#carrie is just misunderstood I swear

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

omg i really really love your blog<3 you are such a sweet person and so kind to all your followers and others on here and your writing is absolutely amazing!

i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something for poe dameron? a hurt comfort because in your rules you said you wouldn't accept full angst which honestly is so real of you and i completely agree :D its just, ive read so many fics where poe's best friend or squadron member is either in love with him or fwb with him and he starts dating someone and they look rlly in love but then he leaves the person for the best friend and i cant help but always wonder how the person he left is feeling! and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of this but he doesnt leave the reader and hes not really in love with his best friend or anything im so sorry this became really long but you can totally ignore this or say you cant do it its absolutely alright!<33

thank you sm though and i hope you have a good day!

Anon, thank you so much for such lovely and kind words! You are AMAZING! (Seriously, they have absolutely made my day/week/year!)

This ask has killed me (positive), my subconsciousness had a lot to say, it seems.

Tangerine, Tangerine

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: angst (but with a happy ending), thoughts that a partner is cheating, blood, x-wing fight, swearing (not star wars swearing, because even though Kriff is great, I need to say fuck), Moonbeam as a nickname, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 4494

_______________________________________

It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

You’d misunderstood, you’d read the situation wrong, you’d seen incorrectly. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

Your radio crackled, “Green Leader, checking in. We’re manoeuvring in 5. Call out.”

“Green Two check.”

“Green Three check.” 

 It was just a kiss. 

“Green Four check.” 

 It was just a-

“Green Five check.” 

Just a-

“Green Six check.” 

Just-

“Green Seven,” you swallow. “Check.” 

It wasn’t just a kiss. 

You patted your helmet twice and rolled your neck, breathing deeply as you settled in. On your left, you could see some of Blue Squadron. 

This mission was straightforward - on a holopad. 

Two teams to escort The Harbringer, the resistance supply ship. It had been damaged by a rogue blast from a tie fighter just as it jumped to hyperspace and had had to make an emergency landing on one of Tre’Ral’s desert moons. 

The crew on board had managed to fix all they could. But without proper materials, there was little chance of the ship making it out of the moon’s thick atmosphere and entering hyperspace. So Blue and Green Squadrons had been dispatched. Blue 1-4 had already made contact, jump-starting The Harbringer enough to get it airborne. 

Due to Tre’Ral’s sun and planet density, the gravity on the moons was a little stronger than most world’s atmospheric pressure. 

Green Leader, Sena, had repeated through briefing at how this would affect flying. How to be ready for it. And she hadn’t been wrong, it was different flying here. Tougher. And you loved it.

You’d grown up on Para, a planet with a high gravity density. You’d learnt to fly there well before you’d flown in space. Being here on this desolate moon almost felt like home. Your movements seemed smoother, precise. No longer needing to overcorrect for your naturally ingrained harsh movements. No longer spinning out and fighting low gravity, finally working with the tide. 

The manoeuvre would see the ships escort The Harbringer out of the moon’s atmosphere and then the rest of Blue squadron would form a sort of 3D star formation around the cargo ship. All jumping to hyperspace at the same time to carry it along with them. 

Simple. 

In theory. 

Everyone had spoken about how practically textbook it was, how easy. 

But then, of course, why was Green Squadron going? 

No one at the briefing had asked, why would they when the answer was so obvious. This part of the quadrant was teething with First Order. With a slow, busted supply ship you were all practically screaming for them to come and play target practice. 

You swallow. 

You should be focusing on that, on the mission. Instead of the utter nonsense that was ricocheting around your head and piercing your heart. 

I hadn’t just been a kiss. 

You and Poe had gotten together clumsily, three months ago, your normal awkwardness drowned out by so much Polanis Red that you almost couldn’t see straight. It had been after the battle of Hurthwen, a nasty dogfight that had everyone hyped up on adrenaline. 

He had been drunk when he kissed you, you remembered that. 

Maybe he had thought… maybe he had believed he was kissing her instead. 

It made a lot more sense. 

Sena was the Green Leader, she was a great pilot. One to be reckoned with. She was kind, she was fun, she was beautiful. She and Poe had joined the resistance together, risen the ranks together. Basically inseparable. Always laughing and joking. She had been in the same squad as Poe, under his command before she was promoted to leading one of her own. 

They had always been close. Always. Best friends. 

Sickness bubbled in your throat. 

You remembered Frizz and Hank talking offhandedly, well before you and Poe were a thing. Both of them sure that Sana and Poe were dating or ‘knocking boots’ as Frizz had so elegantly put it. 

“Two people can just be friends, you know.” You’d said, trying to hide your little crush on the commander. 

“Yeah,” Frizz laughed, “But not them. You seen them together?” 

Hank chortled. 

Nonsense. You’d brushed it off then. Allowed it to creep into your thoughts when it was dark and the base was quiet. When Poe’s breathing was soft and light behind you, his arm around your waist. 

Him and Sana just made a lot more sense than him and you. 

“Yeah, but not them. You seen them together?” 

Yeah. Now you had. 

The Harbringer came into view over the horizon. The seemingly endless stretch of desert was cut through in the distance by a fearsome outcrop of crocks, leading up into a field of formidable mountains. 

Blue 1-4 were already hooked up to the cargo ship, all five hoovering moving together as they flew towards you to meet. 

You wouldn’t have said things were difficult with you and Poe. Well, you wouldn’t have said that before. It was complicated for everyone on the base, most staff were on different call schedules, off-world or on a mission at all times. Having a relationship wasn’t straightforward. There were stretches where you wouldn’t even be on the same planet for days, but…

But you had thought it was…

It didn’t matter. 

You’d gone back to the briefing room, just before take off. You’d wanted to tap the main holoscreen twice, for luck. A little ritual you’d adopted early on. Most pilots were a superstitious bunch. 

That’s when you’d seen them. Sana and Poe. Locked in a tight embrace, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss. 

Your heartbeat had thundered so loud you’d been surprised they hadn’t heard it. But they’d been too preoccupied to notice your presence. 

It was cliche but time had almost slowed, calmed and stretched like the moment you take aim, the second before you fired your ship's canons. 

A flash of the control panel had flickered into your mind when you saw them, your fingers twitching as if you had the trigger in your hands. 

You’d turned and left without a sound. Without a word. Without letting them know you saw. Leaving them to… whatever they did next. 

Was it their first kiss? One of many? Had this been going on well before Poe had taken your hand and led you outside so he could clumsily name all the constellations, making up new ones and backstories to make you smile?

“That one here, you see it?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That one’s the best one, best in the sky. It’s orange and it’s right next to that other orange one, like they’re holding hands.”

You’d laughed. 

“That’s me and you Moonbeam.” 

Moonbeam. That stupid nickname. 

You’d gone to your room quickly, the one that you and Poe shared, and taken off the necklace he’d given you. 

“I want you to wear it for luck, Moonbeam.” 

That stupid smile he’d given you as he’d slipped it from his own neck and onto yours. That stupid kiss he’d given you after. You’d thought that expression was cute when you’d seen it, pure. Now it just seemed like he’d been laughing at you, playing some sick joke. ‘How long can I string someone along?’, ‘how far can I go before they realise it’s all pretend?’ 

You’d left the necklace with the ring slipped through on the small set of shelves in the corner, the one Poe normally kept his holopad on. 

It was idiotic, but your neck felt… empty without it. Cold. Every now and then you touched at where the chain normally lay.A subconscious action only brought to the forefront of your mind by the sensation of your own skin instead of metal. 

Something caught your eye in the distance, a flash of sunlight glinting off the horizon. Dread twisted in your stomach as realisation dawned a second earlier than your scanners. The extra gravitational pressure and high quantity of magnetic metals in the sand affected everyone’s ship computers, causing a brief information delay. 

Your alarm sounded out inside your ship, the radar blinking into life as tie fighters approached from the rock outcrop. They’d used the high mineral concentration to hide their energy signatures. 

“Fuck.” 

The radio screamed into life, orders out pouring over orders. Blue squadron rushed into position while Green scrambled. 

“Blue in place now!”

“It’s gonna be rushed, but we haven’t got a choice!”

“No time!” “Incoming!” “Green half split! Evens left, odds right, let’s keep those fighter’s off The Harbringer and Blue squadron! Gamma pattern!” 

“How far away is the Delta?” 

“Calling in attack pattern!” 

You swing to the right, falling in with Hank and Petal and bank hard, it takes less than a second for you to notice that your squad's movements aren’t as precise and well-timed as usual. The stronger gravity throwing everyone, except you, off their game. 

That didn’t bode well. 

You climb for a second, punching hard on the acceleration to get some height and a clear view of the oncoming and flick on your targeting system. The image glitches, doesn’t hold steady even as you focus. Off by half a fraction. 

Shots fire out from both sides, most missing.

“Targeting not working!”

“It’s out!”

“I can’t get a clear shot!” “The read is malfunctioning!”

“Half a click 4/8!” You shout, as you take your shot, hitting two tie fighters head-on. 

“Good shot Green 7!” You can hear the joy and relief in Sana’s voice. “Half a click 4/8, you’ll all have to manually adjust!” 

You dive, swirling around two fighters before skimming close to the ground, trying to draw their attention away from the cargo ship. You spin, slamming your control harder than you would need to in any other situation as you turn and spike past another fighter, taking out one in the process. 

“Wooooo!” Hank yells over the intercom.

You laugh. “Bet you never thought you wished you grew up on Para right?” 

“Every day new things surprise me.” He banks left, you right, Petal dives down. 

It’s too much of a rush, everything all at once, patterns and shots flying, your ship’s systems screaming as you push the engines a little too hard. 

The tie fighters aren’t moving as fast as they normally do, bogged down even more than the x wings by the gravity. They can’t make their normal quick turns and it’s affecting their strike patterns. 

Good. 

But there’s so, so many of them. 

Explosions fly debris out, and you climb higher. Needing a clear view and unable to rely on your targeting systems. 

More shots fly out, The Harbringer is taking a battering but so far its shielding is holding the hull together. 

The radio keeps screaming, overlapping voices that blur into background noise. You’re trained to only hear your call signal, direct messages. You vear off, narrowingly missing a blast to your wing. 

“-On my tail.” Frizz’s voice cuts through the noise, a sharp stab of dread slicing you open as you turn, automatically looking to the reader, it’s still not clear. 

You climb, twist, fall, see a Green ship, followed tightly by two fighters. Accelsorate, bank. You fire. You’re aiming in a panic now, not adjusting right, not breathing through. 

The shot hits one, before you have to swerve to avoid being struck head-on. 

“Thanks 7!” Cril yells over the speaker, managing to shake the other fighter. 

There’s a scream, a crackle of sound over the system. A sound you know too well. You see the ship crash into the desert, exploding before it even hits the ground as the a tie fighter’s shots hit home. 

Frizz.

“No…” 

“Check!” Sana yells, unable to tell who went down with the system glitching. “Green Leader!”

You swerve around another fighter, everything moving so fast, too fast.

“Green Two check!” Cril.

“Green Three check!” Petal. 

Nothing. 

“Green Four!” Sana yells. No call replies. Balna. Not Frizz. 

The momentary rush of relief at Frizz being alive is cut horribly short by the image of Balna’s kind face that bursts behind your eyes. 

You bank left, right, swerve, take aim, twist. 

There’s a chance, a good chance that you’ll win. All of Blue is in place, The Harbringer is moving up with them. The tie fighters are taking more hits than the resistance, their less aerodynamic design hampering them more than usual with this gravity. 

All you need is…

Another alarm. 

“Oh… fuck.” You slam on your intercom. “Z-Fighter!” 

A chorus of yells answer you. 

A Z-fighter, a quick moving ship a fraction bigger than The Harbringer, with two powerful front guns. A few shots would take the cargo ship out completely. 

And with how slow the supply ship was moving, that wouldn’t be hard. 

The Z-fighter storms in, moving fast but not firing, they were obviously having problems with their targeting too, needing a close clear shot. 

“Take out the main cannons!” Sana yells, the panic in her voice cutting through the chaos. You turn, aim, take out a tie fighter but have to veer up at the last second. Twist. 

Someone comes in after you, aiming for the cannons, a fighter clips their side and they can’t correct quick enough. They spiral off, their ship crashing into the Z-fighter. Obliterated on impact. The Z-fighter seemingly unaffected. 

You loop back, adrenaline blinding you to everything, anything that’s not the goal. Take out the canons. Take out the canons. People are counting on you. Take out the canons. 

You fire, a clear shot before you bank to the side to avoid a direct hit to your hull. 

It’s not enough.

You need to pass again, and again. Other x wings flying in, taking shots, the gravity making them slow, imprecise. Only one blast hits and it’s not full on.You’re the only one hitting directly and it’s not enough. 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

There’s shouting and screaming, the zipping of the fighters as they cut through the sky. Someone yells your name and you don’t hear it. 

Another hit lands. One canon out. Only one left. You can do this. The Harbringer is nearly in the upper atmosphere, they can jump from there. Just a few more seconds. You can do this.

“Black Leader!” Poe’s call sign cuts over the dim, followed by the call signs of half of the Red Squadron.

They must have scrambled after first contact. 

The canon’s powering up, a quick glance to your panel tells you that The Harbringer’s shield is barely functioning. They won’t survive a direct hit. With how close they are and the Blue Squadron ships that are attached there’s no way they wouldn’t be pulled down too if The Harbringer fell. 

The canon needs more than one hit to take it down, more than five. No way you can shoot five times before they fire. 

You twist, full force. Pumping the acceleration. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three hit. You don’t slow down. Fire. Fire. Fire. They hit. The canon is still operational. 

Sana is screaming orders, so many shots fire at the canon, none of them hit right, hit full on. 

Two chances left. 

One to fire. If it takes out the canon you just have enough time to serve up, to avoid getting smashed to bits. 

Poe shouts for you over the intercom. 

You don’t answer.

One to fire. If it doesn’t take out the canon then… then you crashing into it head on will. 

Poe yells again, this time cutting over everyone else, sending you a direct call. 

You don’t answer.

You fire. Hit. 

Poe screams for you, his voice painful and panicked. He’s already worked out your plan before you had even thought of it. 

The canon doesn’t go down. 

You cut the call to him. Blocking out his signal. You don’t want Poe to think you did this for him. 

You don’t want him to think you did this because of him.

“Green Seven!” Sana yells, seemingly knowing what you’re going to do. 

Hank screams your name over the radio. It hurts. You think it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Moonbeam!” Poe’s voice is ripped raw from yells, Sana has patched him through over her signal. You were wrong. That was the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

You dip at the last second, not hitting the canon straight on but smashing your right wing into it. The force surprises you, even though you braced for it. The impact sending you spiralling. You try to regain control, try to turn into the spin. Training taking over even though you're a wing and half a ship down. 

Shouts over the radio, you barely make out- 

“-cannon’s down-”

“-Jump!-”

A spark hits, your console explodes into flame, shards hit your side and you yell. Sky and sand tumbling over each other over and over, and you manage to hit the eject button.

The force rips you upwards, free briefly from your burning ship. But you’re too close to the floor, not enough time to slow down your velocity. There’s-

.

The impact of the ground hurts. Pain explodes along every nerve despite the ejection seat dampening. You scream. 

Agony is everywhere, everything. You can’t feel anything else, can’t comprehend anything except floods of pain. 

You hit your belt, falling out and to the desert floor. Looking up just enough to gauge where you are, where your ship fell. It’s an exploded, fireball mess far off. At least it’s not an immediate threat. You crawl to the side and sob. 

There’s blood falling into the sand from your head, the right side of your face. You can’t see properly out of your eye and your left leg is definitely broken. Shattered. Still, you drag yourself forward, digging your hands in and pulling as something ribs and tears in your side, warm liquid soaking into your fight suit. 

The resistance will jump to hyperspace, they’ll get out. They’ll make it. 

You just needed to get away from your ejection seat, when the First Order doubles back they’ll see it, they’ll see you. You just needed to get to an outcrop. Hide. 

Make it look like you had a weapon. 

Make them shoot you first instead of taking you for questioning. 

Can’t let them take you alive. 

There's the faint sound of a ship somewhere above, landing gear coming down. 

For a second you freeze, panic gripping your heart, you dig into the sand hard, pull, pull, pull  yourself closer towards the outcrop of rocks. The air seems to be leaving your lungs, your breathing ragged and hot. 

You cough, red hitting the dirt, iron hitting your tongue. 

You crawl, pull. The pain is making you light-headed. You gasp, trying to get in a full lung full of air. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enou…

.

When you open your eyes your first thoughts are simple. Clear. 

I'm dead.

You were either shot in the head in the sand or simply succumbed to your wounds. 

But then things begin to feel… fuzzy. Not painful, but not right either.

And that's when you smell the Bacta. And then the light starts to change to distorted shapes, and finally, you recognise Hank sitting next to you.

“You better not be dead too,” you whisper your voice dry from lack of use. 

Hank jumps up, goes to grab your hand and then stops himself. There are tears in his eyes. He softly places his fingers on yours and you squeeze back. 

“You're a fucking idiot you know that?” He grins and you laugh. Which hurts a little, but feels good. 

“One sec,” he moves away just to speak to someone outside before he comes back. “I'm the one that picked you up, you know?” 

“Now who's the fucking idiot?” You smile but your chest aches, heavy with the weight of his words. “You shouldn't have done that.” You whisper. 

“What?”

“You were under fire, you should have just jumped-” 

“I saw you eject. Saw you moving. You think I was just gonna leave you there?” He sits. “Besides, I was closest. The commander would have blown up the whole planet to get to you.” 

You swallow, turning away slightly. Going cold at the mention of Poe. 

Hank mistakes the look for guilt, and squeezes your hand again. “Hey, look,” he smiles, “you took out the canons, you're a fucking idiot but you know how to fly in heavy gravity.” 

You snort. 

He smiles. 

“Who did we lose?” 

Hank sighs, “three…”

You nod, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“There-”

There was shouting from outside, a crash and then Poe stormed into the room, med staff close behind him.

You swallow, sickness building in your throat.

He looked awful, drawn out and worn thin like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His eyes red. 

He rushes forward, Hank moves out of the way, so Poe can take your hand in his. He leans forward and kisses you softly, carefully stroking your cheek, being gentle with your bandages. 

“Moonbeam…” he mutters and you flinch back from him. He looks at you with sad, confused eyes. 

“Look, I can only allow one visitor in here.” The med staff member says.

Hank stands, and speaks when you frown. “I'll see you later, Poe’s the one that hasn't left your side. The only reason he wasn't here when you woke was because I made him go take a shower.” Hank smiled, “you can thank me for that later.” 

Both you and Poe are quiet as the others leave. Poe searching your face for something, while you look away. 

“Moonbeam,” he says again softly, but there's an edge to his words that you're not used to. “What the fuck happened on that mission? What the fuck is this?” He holds up his hand, his necklace and ring wrapped around his palm. His eyes are shiny as he speaks. “Were you trying to kill yourself? What the fu-”

“Poe,” you breathe. Best to get it over quickly. “I saw.”

He frowns. “Saw? Saw what?” 

“You and Sana, in the briefing room… before take off.” 

The small frown on his forehead relaxes slightly for a moment as his eyebrows raise. “You… saw?” 

You nod. 

“You, but, I didn’t see you when I pushed her away?” His voice cracks at the end, a splinter running into the muscle of your heart. 

“You pushed her away?” 

“You didn’t see that?” He frowns again, blinking hard, “you just, just saw and walked away and what? Took this off?” He holds up the necklace again. A tear falls from his eye and he rubs it away furiously as if it had scorched his skin. “Just, just left it and… and…” 

“I didn’t know you didn’t want it…” You say quietly, emotion is making your chest tight and constricted. “I didn’t know you didn’t want her…”

“What?” He breathes, moving closer and squeezing your hand. There’s disbelief in his voice, confusion. Anger, it’s deep down and controlled but it’s there. “No, look, she kissed me. I pushed her away, I, I even logged a report, I’ll pull up the god damned camera feed to show you.” 

He’s not lying. His gaze is unwavering and he’s got that painfully earnest look in his eyes. 

“You thought…” he shakes his head slightly, his voice pained, “you thought I’d-”

“You both make sense together.” You blurt out. “She’s… and you’re…” you shrug and sigh, on the verge of tears yourself. “You’re both the best of us.”

“No,” he shakes his head fiercely, “Moonbeam, no.” He wipes roughly at his eyes again, glancing down for a moment and you lightly touch his head. 

He looks up instantly as you stroke his curls, still lightly damp. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Poe shakes his head again, grabbing your hand and kissing your wrist. “I’m sorry.” He kicks off his shoes and clambers into bed next to you a little awkwardly. He’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt you but needing closeness so badly it’s suffocating. 

You scooch to the side as quickly as you can in your current state and lean into him as he wraps his body around you softly and kisses you sweetly. 

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeats after every kiss, pressing his lips to every part of your skin that he can reach.

“Why are you sorry?” You mutter as he holds you, “I’m the one that messed up.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry that I don’t make you realise how special you are, how perfect.” He kisses your cheek, “you’re the best of us Moonbeam.” 

You tut but his grip tightens and he holds you tight. 

“And one hell of a pilot.” He grins. 

You scoff. 

“You are.” He kisses you again. 

You nuzzle against him, settling into his touch. Knots have formed in your chest, pain that’s loosening. His warmth is comforting. Home. 

“Sana said she didn’t know I was in a relationship,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if that’s true, but… I do believe her.” 

You nod. “She’s a good person.”

He moves so he can look you in the eyes. “Please, Moonbeam, I… don’t,” he bites his tongue, closing his eyes for a long second. “I want to tell you, I want to say, don’t ever do something like that again… don’t… don’t put yourself at risk.” 

You touch his cheek lightly. 

“But it’s not fair is it?” He smiles sadly. “We both do that every day… You know you were gonna be in my squadron at first?” 

You shake your head in surprise and he nods.

“You were, but… well,” he blushes ever so slightly. “I was so embarrassingly head over heels in love with you,” he laughs lightly. “For months I could hardly talk to you, you know I had to down five Polanis Red’s in a row after Hurthwen just so I could ask you out? I knew I wouldn’t be able to function right if you were in my squad. I knew that I’d put everyone else at risk because if it came down to it… if there was a choice between everyone in the squad dying, everyone on the base, or you… I’d let the resistance burn instead of lose you. Every single time.” 

You close your eyes, fighting the emotion that needs to break through and squeeze his hand like a lifeline. “I love you.” You whisper. 

Your fingertips brush against the necklace, the ring hooking around the first knuckle of your index finger by chance. 

Poe slowly moves his hand from yours and unwinds the necklace from his palm before carefully placing it over your head, giving you plenty of time to move away if you wanted. 

“I love you Moonbeam,” he mutters, his voice low, reverent. Then leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back with all your heart. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[youreyeson1y]

still got so much to find out

pairing: bang chan x producer!reader(f)

title:i like it by stray kids (album: ate)

cw: swearing, mentions of drinking/getting drunk

synopsis: chan thought there was something between you both, but when he saw you put your arms around hyunjin's waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he began questioning the whole situation.

tags: fluff, mutual pining-ish, miscommunication-ish heh, stubid :( and petty chan, minor minho + chan bonding, loong exposition, hwang siblings = real siblings (!!)

link: ao3

note: there were some issues with the povs I faced while writing this, so for the first part, it'll be in 2nd person, while the last 3/4th of the story is in 3rd person. sorry for the confusion !

word count: 2.9k

enjoy !

“I think you need help, man.”

“What’chu talking about, I’m fine.” The man you were basically carrying on one shoulder tried to stand up, tripping over his feet and words.

“See?” He stumbled, standing up on one foot to prove his sobriety. “Are you proud of me now?” He flashed an endearing smile at you. Your face flushed at the sudden eye contact. You covered it with a groan as Chris fell right into your arms again. 

Instead of the quiet evening you had planned, you had never imagined that you'd end up spending your Sunday night at a restaurant watching over eight guys drinking as if it's their last day and telling a very drunk Christopher that you were proud of him for standing up.

You turned around as you heard a click sound behind you, and saw a chuckling Felix clicking pictures of their leader. 

“Aw man,” Jeongin looked over his shoulders. “That has such good blackmail potential.” 

“Or a really cute birthday post.” Felix cackled. 

“Hey, come on now guys, don’t—” Felix turns his screen towards you with a smirk. “—forget to send that picture to me. Anyway, instead of smiling like fools, come here and help me get him in the car.” 

Changbin and Jisung walk towards you, followed by Minho and Seungmin, who were the most sober of the bunch, and helped carry Chan off of your shoulders. 

“Hey, no, wait,” Chris whined as soon as Changbin pulled him off of you, his senses seeming to come back to him. “Let me drop you home, y/n.” 

“Chan,” Your eyes went soft with a smile. “I would love to, but neither of us are sober enough to drive, and I—” 

“She's coming with me, man, not with your drunk ass,” Hyunjin walked over, casually draping an arm over your shoulders. “Lets get going, y/n. We can't be late.”

As you gave Christopher’s hand a squeeze and walked over towards Hyunjin, it felt as if you had squeezed the life out of Chris. 

Had he misunderstood you this whole time? 

As Chris sat sandwiched between Jisung and Changbin in the backseat, he saw you and Hyunjin get into another car while you were giggling with an arm casually wrapped around his waist. 

As you got into the car, he saw Hyunjin hand you a present. 

Chris thought you and him had something going on; he didn't know what, but he sure felt something. And those feelings were stronger this evening, when each smile he brought out of you made his heart ache and his lips twitch up. 

But was it only him who was feeling that way? 

“You okay, Chris?” Minho called out from the driver's seat, looking over at him with concerned eyes. “I've never seen you drink so much.” 

“Ah, yeah, don't worry about me,” He rubbed his face with a groan, the effect of the alcohol making him tired. He smiled as he felt Changbin and Jisung’s heads fall on his shoulders with a soft thud. “You know how hectic it has been with the new single. I guess I just wanted to let loose for a moment.” 

“I get it,” Minho paused, debating on whether to continue or not. “I just… I hope you're not pushing yourself too much, Chan. We're here to help you if you need… and y/n’s here too. So just, reach out, okay?” 

“Mhm,” Chris smiled. “I will. Thanks, Minho.” 

Usually it would seem weird that they were having a heart to heart after a night-out when one of them was sober, but Chris understood where Minho was coming from. 

It was unusual for Chris to drink, let alone get drunk, so he might think that something was on his mind for him to drink like that. 

But little did Minho know, it wasn't something, but rather someone. 

Chan wasn't even planning on drinking, knowing he had a producing session the next day, but when his stupid friends suggested a game of a shot for a secret, he couldn't help but comply, intoxicated not by the soju, but by the need to learn more, to know more about you.

But as he remembered seeing you wrap an arm around Hyunjin as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Christopher didn't know what to feel. 

The only thing he was sure of now was that no matter how he felt, the feelings of his brother came first; he could never do something that would hurt Hyunjin, or put you in an awkward position. 

Y/N, although a fairly new producer at JYPE, was already popular amongst other artists. She had almost received a celebrity status, when even the public knew a song produced by y/n was sure to top the charts. 

But as a kpop fan since her younger days, for y/n, her job was more like a paid hobby, where she got to meet and collaborate with other artists.

So, when she was proposed to co-produce several songs for Stray Kids’ new album, she jumped at the opportunity; not only because of the group’s popularity, but also because she was a die-hard fan of the group. 

She was obsessed with their music, their  vision and the momentous impact they’d had on artists and fans around the globe— she felt honored that she would be able to leave her mark amongst their talent. 

She was excited to work with them; even while casually greeting them in the halls of the building, she found their energy to be highly contagious. And that feeling remained when she became close friends with the members only after a few weeks of working with them.  

While becoming friends with all the members, y/n couldn't help but want something more with a special member. 

Maybe she did have a tiny crush on him even before they started working together; greeting him in the elevator or bumping into him while getting coffee used to be the highlight of her day. 

But after spending more time together, it wasn't just his extremely handsome face, but he became incredibly attractive to her once she saw the way he treated those around him, his commanding but caring personality and his charming aura. 

Being co-producers, she always had to spend time with him, and looking at him in his element, his passion is what made her look up to him as a fellow artist too. 

Y/n was down bad, but how couldn't she be?

Because the person living rent free in her head was Christopher Bang of all people. 

But what excited her, was the fact that maybe she wasn't the only one feeling that way— 

From asking her to hang out with them during dance practice, to purposefully going on coffee-runs together, or going on late night drives on the guise of dropping her home when both of them knew they had drivers.  

Y/n couldn't help but feel delusional and believe that Chan was doing these small gestures as a way to spend more time with her. 

And maybe. Just maybe, her suspicions were proven right last night, when in a crowded restaurant, it felt like it was just the two of them. 

As the group decided to go out to celebrate, everyone expected Chan to look after them, as always, and stay relatively sober for his session the next day. But contrary to popular belief, when y/n saw him gulp down shot after shot to know more about her, y/n couldn't help but feel special. 

As the other members were immersed in their own conversation, Chris and y/n were in a different world.

They shared their hopes and dreams and desires, and the moment that y/n knew that this moment counted for something, that it was different, is when Chris told her, the most relaxed and genuine she had ever seen him, that “It's nice being just Chris, for once. Thank you for not being bored of Christopher y/n.” 

She knew as a leader, and as a performer in general, how much responsibility Chris had to shoulder on a daily basis. And hearing him say that made y/n feel somewhat proud of herself, for letting him let go for once. 

In the dead of night, when half the city was asleep, she whispered in the softest voice, almost unknowingly, as she helped him walk out of the restaurant. 

“I think I'm in love with you, Chris.” 

But as he stumbled over invisible rocks, y/n felt thankful for drunk Chris because spilling it out like that felt like a mistake. 

But once hearing it out loud, she understood these feelings were here to stay, so she decided she would have a conversation with him once he sobered up. 

But now, roughly an hour had passed of them sitting uncomfortably in the recording booth, and for the life of her, y/n couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with Christopher Bahng. 

As she had entered the recording booth an hour ago, she’d felt herself smiling instinctively as she saw Chris sitting on the couch, nervously clutching the hangover medicine in her hands.

“Hey,” Y/n stood in front of him with an uncharacteristically nervous smile. “How are you? Yesterday was wild, right? I brought hangover medicine for you… I wanted to make sure—”  

“Oh, I'm okay.” Chan replied nonchalantly, not looking up from his phone. “Just so you know Changbin and Jisung will be late, so you can probably save it for them, I guess.” 

This was different.

Chris, no matter how busy or preoccupied he was, always made an effort for the other person, may it be the other members or a polite barista. 

The thought hitting her like a pile of rocks, y/n realized what if he had actually heard her confession last night and this was his way of rejecting her? 

But no matter what, they still had to work on the songs together, and y/n thought maybe this was for the best, so that they could still continue working together as if nothing had happened, because no matter what, y/n did not want her own feelings to meddle with Stray Kids’ performance. 

But as an hour had passed with them making little to no progress on the new song, y/n was fed up. 

They usually had such good chemistry, and it felt like their production and arrangement styles merged perfectly, but honestly, she felt like Chris was being a major asshole now. 

Chan was working as if she wasn't even in the room, or when she made a suggestion, he added it without as much as a thought, making her feel as if he was just humouring her. 

Okay, maybe it was hard to work with someone you know has a crush on you, but did he have to act as if he couldn't even stand when your hands brushed together? 

Y/n was hurt, but as a workaholic, she was also frustrated by his closed-off behavior. She was surprised too, because she knew how much Chan valued his work, so it made no sense for him to be acting this way. 

“Okay, man.” Y/n finally snapped, when they'd been replaying the same three second audio clip from the last fifteen minutes. “What's your problem?” 

“What's my problem?” Chan had the audacity to act surprised. Y/n hated how she still found his accent attractive in this situation. “I don't know, maybe you'd like to answer that when you've been the one silently just sitting here s—”

“What else do you expect me to do when you don't even want to acknowledge my presence in the room?” 

“What do—” 

“Okay you know what,” Y/n had to address the elephant in the room, or else they'd be going back and forth the whole day. “I know I fucked up, okay? And I guess you must hate working with me now, but can we just forget about it and act like nothing happened? I swear I won't do anything weird.” 

“Wait a minute, back up;” Chan’s face flushed. “Can you tell me exactly what you're talking about? Did… did something happen last night?” 

“What the hell, man” Y/n wished the ground would swallow her at this point. “You want me to say it aloud? Is this your way of making me more embarrassed than I already am?” 

“No, I—” 

“I confessed, okay? I said it.” She blurted. “And now you're uncomfortable, I understand, but please try to—” 

“You confessed… to me?” 

“Are you dumb? Of course, Christopher, who else?” 

“Wait but,” He didn't know what to feel, happy or distressed. “What about Hyunjin?” 

“Hyunjin? What about him? I—” Y/n was confused, but then her eyes opened wide in realization as she covered her mouth in shock.

“Oh my God, are you with Hyunjin?! Shut up, I'm so sorry! He did tell me he was with someone but I never thought… Oh my God, Chris, I never meant to—” 

“What the actual fuck? No?!” Christopher stopped her, unable to hear her talk about this for another moment. “I'm not with Hyunjin, okay? We're literally like brothers. And why aren't you mad… aren't you dating Hyunjin?” 

“Me… and Hyunjin? Ew, no!” Y/n looked like she was about to throw up. “He literally is my brother. Well, my cousin, but still. What the hell, what made you think we were together?” 

“Hold up, you guys are cousins?” 

“Well, yeah. I mean we didn't want to be public about it because people may think I got the job only because of him. Honestly I thought he told you guys, but it may have slipped his mind.

"And I didn't think it was my place to tell you guys, so I guess its kind of like a secret?” She scratched her head. “But what made you think we were together?” 

“Well,” It was Bang Chan’s turn to be embarrassed now. “Last night I saw him give you a present and you both went together to—” 

“Don't even finish that sentence.” She made a mental note to have a talk with Hyunjin and the members and finally tell them about their relationship, otherwise she was going to loose her mind. “It's Ye-ji’s birthday today, remember? Since the three of us are close, Hyunjin and I had planned a little something for her to wish her at midnight. So the present you saw was for Ye-ji, not me.” 

“Oh.” The silence that followed was the most awkward moment of Chris’ life. 

After what felt like eternity, it felt like the ice had finally been broken has they broke out into unfiltered laughter once they met each other's eyes. 

“Wait,” Y/n smirked. “Does that mean you were jealous, Chris?” 

“Whatever,” Chris gave her an endearing smile, the same one from last night. “I was okay? I was jealous, and I'd never felt anything like that before. I just didn't want to put either of you in a difficult position, which now I realize was a pretty stupid move from my side because I guess I could've simply just asked either one of you.” Both of them chuckled. 

Chris gently took y/n’s hands in his as he continued. 

“So, I tried to distance myself from you. But I realized, I just couldn't. We're a great team, and I think it's because we truly understand and know each other, which is a surprise, because I've never felt like this about anything or anyone in a long time. 

“And not only that, you're one of the most talented and amazing people I've had the honour of knowing. Unfortunately, I do not remember what you said last night, so, I'm going to shoot my shot and hope i don't make a fool of myself.

"I think I'm in love with you, Y/n. It may be a risk, but you're a risk I'm willing to take. So I want to ask you, y/n, would you please—” 

Before he could finish, Y/n, misty-eyed and overjoyed, reached forward to kiss him, and she felt relieved when she felt him smile against her. 

“I guess that's a yes?” Breathlessly, Chris smiled. 

“Yes, yes, yes… A thousand times yes, Christopher Bang!” Y/n laughed. “I think I'm in love with you, too. You—”  

The two of them jumped in their seats as they heard something fall. As they turned their heads, they saw Changbin and Jisung standing near the door, looking at everything but them. 

“Oh, hey, guys, didn't notice you there!” Jisung said in an extremely high-pitched voice. “How are you?” 

Changbin, the voice of reason for once, smiled knowing. “We were going to say that we're sorry we're late, but I guess you did not really feel our absence.”

Chris knew that smirk— it was that of him winning a bet. “We can complete this song another day if you want.” Changbin said, smacking Jisung on the head for acting so dumb. 

“It's okay guys,” Y/n wanted to die. She knew she was never going to live this down. “We were just waiting for you—” 

“No, you know what, thanks, Binnie.” Chris held y/n’s hand with a smirk as they stood up and walked towards the door. Chris knew they were not going to live this down anyway, so he might as well take this opportunity. “We'll let you know when we'll be free. Don't call us!” 

As Chris and y/n walked out of the room in a fit of laughter, they heard Changbin laugh just as loud. 

“Sweet!” Changbin cackled. “I’m gonna be 50 dollars richer!” 

a/n: honestly i never really thought how hard it would be writing an xreader fic, because at one point i literally started using you as a name instead of a pronoun lol. literally was so much harder and i had actually written a snippet weeks ago before i abandoned it due to writer's block but then ate dropped (go stream y'all !!) and the new era has been living rent free in my head, so that gave me the motivation to finally get back to that and make it what it is today lol.

my first xreader and honestly channie was the best person as my muse ♡ i can only say i may write more hehe

i hope you enjoyed and please lmk what you thought and leave comments in my ask box, on ao3 or the tags !! requests are also welcome ♡

untill next time 💌

bang chan masterlist

[glassica]

Surprise boyfriend

Notes: M!yan x F!reader, non-con, sexual language, cursing, pregnancy trapping, blackmailing threats

"Hey Y/N, heard you go out with Ray right?"

You spat out the remaining cold brew. You? Go out with whom???

People must've assumed you were into him after seeing your exchanges at the party. But you swear that wasn't that serious at all! You were just fooling around to kill time!

- No. Who told you that?

- Ray posted about you all over his insta. Yeah right you don't use that app... But what do you mean you two aren't dating!?

You took one look at your friend's phone. Lo and behold, countless pictures of you and him holding hands and acting all lovey-dovey like a real couple. Your brain juggled through the hazy memories to see when the selfies were taken but oh dear, you were so drunk off the mind on that night to recall everything.

- Ray, excuse me. Do you have a moment?

- Sweetie I always have time for you. What do baby want from me now? ~

His cheesy line brought shattering earthquakes to your brain. God this man had zero shame, or you had been cursed to carry the embarrassment baggage on his behalf. "If we were alone I'd rip his ass off right instant." - you thought. "And I'll never have time for your goofy ass."

- I believe you misunderstood our relationship. I must've said something deceitful to you during at the party and I'll take responsibility for that. I don't plan to date you or anyone, Ray. I'm so sorry for misleading you.

You spoke in a remorseful tone. Though not able to recollect what nonsense the mouth had blabbered, you felt like owning him an apology regardless. Kids this was why you should never let peer pressure get to you and drink over limits, you never knew if one day you accidentally being entangled with some jackass.

Surprisingly Ray's expression didn't seem to fazed for a bit. On the contrary, the grin on his face got even more ominous and deranged, alerted your sixth sense that nothing coming out from this man was any good: It was a grave mistake involving him in your life.

"My baby wanna break up with me? Oh sweetheart how could you abandon me like that? Have you forgot your little promises to me about love and loyalty? Didn't you say I was your type, that your greatest wish was to be wrapped in my arms every night and showered your body with plenty of kisses?"

Freak. Weirdo. Creep.

How could anyone breath in the same direction of this guy and not get their skin crawled for a second? You were both amused and pissed off witnessing this whole circus show, wondering how out mind you were last Friday to be attracted to this walking joke of a man.

Get this over quickly, or you would end up committing some atrocities on that stupid face.

"I wasn't sober at the time. I must've been spewing rubbish. I'm really sorry for lying to you Ray, but can you please take down those pictures?"

"Why should I? I need to show off everyone my Sweetie's already taken, so that no one could touch you. Besides," - Ray tucked his head over your shoulder, the eerily off-putting grin grew even wider as he whispered softly to your ears, "those pics aren't the only proof of our unshakable bond."

He trailed off, calmly put a hand on your belly.

Your mind went blank.

"BITCH! YOU FUCKING RAPED ME!?"

"Now now. You hurt my heart, Sweetie. How could you accuse me of such heinous crime when all I did so much to give you such good time on bed? And don't lie, your pussy was cumming hard for my crotch. I still can recall those pretty little buds-"

Just then, Ray felt a burning heat on his left cheek. You were done. Completely dropped off manners. Eyes flaming with disgust and resentment while both hands clenching fist furiously, you became a wild animal determined to chew off its prey to the bone. You didn't care about anything else, any consequences after, your absolute goal at the moment was to tear this asshole to shreds.

But Ray was infuritatingly nonchalant, cocky even. He wasn't bothered for a bit when facing your wrath. Rubbing hand on the reddish cheek, he continued:

"Don't you believe you can brush your hand away from me, love. I don't like anyone seeing my angel in her purest form, but I have no problem releasing those clips."

A sadistic chuckle let out of his mouth observing the bloodthirst drained out from your face. If you didn't want him as your prince, then he wouldn't hesitate becoming the big bad villain tainting your life forever.

Ray caught your lifeless body in a loving embrace, just like that Friday night, and many more nights in the future.

[hyunjinners]

✧:･ﾟRunaway → Stray Kids headcanons˚₊· ꒰🌿꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊During a serious argument he attacks you, raising his voice with hurtful words.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊hyung line x fem!reader

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊angst, sad, established relationship, fights.

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊possible trigger, fight, offensive words (maybe swearing? idk)

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊2,3k (I got a little carried away ;)

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊I really love sad themes, I think it makes me immerse myself in the story in a cool way. Remembering that these are just fictitious situations and that nothing in this chapter matches reality, in other words, just an imaginary scenario created by a fan, nothing is linked to the boys' real attitudes or personalities! Hope you like it, Remembering that English is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any grammatical and/or spelling errors. Have a good read! feedbacks are welcome. 🤍

⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist❜ɞ

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 ¡!

You two are definitely what people identify as the perfect couple, always understanding and understanding each other, But that doesn't mean you don't have your differences. You guys don't really like to fight, usually just silly fights or small vows of silence that are eliminated at the end of the day with a warm hug and kisses with vows of love. Chan wasn't one to raise his voice and neither were you, but perhaps due to the stress of the day, this discussion became loud and noisy.

You just wanted to spend time with him, as you were busy with your work throughout the week and barely got to see each other, but he just tried to explain how much he needed to finish reviewing some tracks and that he was too tired to do that. You rebutted tiresome arguments until he simply exploded at you, "CAN YOU PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE? SHIT! I just want you out of here, can't you see that I never wanted you here?" He shouted at you and you remained static in your place. Your eyes widen and you can't swallow the lump that forms in your throat. You couldn't speak, in pure shock and, as incredible as it may seem, he was no different. Regret and worry fill his chest in an overwhelming way instantly and he feels nothing short of guilty.

He opened his mouth, stammering failed attempts at an apology, his eyes glistening with tears that matched yours, that overflowed and ran down his face. Chan's heart sank as he realized that the cause behind your tears was him, wishing you would realize that he didn't really mean it. "...all good. I'll leave you alone, if that's what you want." You spoke softly, unable and tired of debating with him. "No- love…I'm sorry, I- that's not what I meant, please…" He whispered, trying to get to you, but it was too late. You were leaving his apartment with a broken heart and a new insecurity hanging over you, wondering if during your relationship he had thoughts like this, if he felt uncomfortable with your presence. It could have been a misunderstood mistake for Chan, words spoken without thinking that he bitterly regrets, but for you, it was a new milestone in your relationship.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ¡!

Your relationship from the outside has always seemed a little strange. Minho is not the type to show affection in public and loves to make jokes to annoy you, but you know he means nothing and you know he respects and loves you above all else, so you never really cared about it, always taking it in stride. However, this nagging side of him gains strength when it comes to arguments and you find it particularly irritating. He has a strong temper during fights, being stubborn in his ideas and opinions, making it impossible for you to reach an agreement. You don't fight often, but when it happens, it takes you days to resolve it, out of sheer stubbornness and pride on both sides.

The stray kids' comeback was just around the corner, less than a month away and everything was moving quickly. Minho, who has always been committed to his work, he was working hard this week and his mood was technically sensitive, so to speak. You, being a good and understanding girlfriend that you are, He thought about something throughout the week to try to alleviate some of his tension, usually affection placed on your private person made everything better.

When he didn't show up at the dinner you prepared especially for him, you tried to be understanding because you knew Minho's physical and mental exhaustion. It was almost midnight when he appeared tired and sullen. He had stated that he would arrive on time, so you asked him why he was late. You remained calm throughout the conversation, but when he said he preferred to go out to eat with the boys and forgot about you, you felt the burning start to rise in your throat, "Minho, I really don't understand you. I really tried hard to see the good in you and you just act dismissive like it's nothing, as if we were nothing…” the anger was evident in your voice, but you couldn’t fight back, and apparently neither could he. He sits on the living room couch, leaning with his elbows resting on his knees as he runs his hands over his face and hair. He stands up looking into your eyes and you could see a different glow in his eyes, he was exhausted and angry.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT IF YOU'RE SO NEEDY! I'm tired of this, if you're going to be clingy like this, stay far away from me." Her eyes flutter unconsciously, your vision blurred by the tears that accumulate. You bite your lip in an attempt to contain them, you didn't want to cry in front of him. Minho clenches his fists as he slowly watches your reaction, scared of himself. He couldn't say anything, but you knew he wanted you to stay. He was sorry. You let out a shaky breath nodding your head, “right… whatever you want.” Minho felt helpless watching you forcefully close the door of a now cold and empty apartment, his absence making him feel incomplete. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't find words in his mind, only the fear of losing you, because he knew it was all his fault. And you, the uncertain doubt as to whether this would be a lasting relationship.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍 ¡!

You have been friends since you were very young, always supporting and helping each other and that was a good reason for you to almost never fight and if you do, They make up very quickly, reaching a consensus that they both made a mistake at some point. He was always very sweet, so usually he would apologize first, unsure that maybe you would abandon him and that hasn't changed since he asked you to be his girlfriend. And that fact scared you because of what happened. He was never really jealous, it was more like fear and insecurity, but you always assured him that you loved him and he always trusted you. But this time it was different and you didn't understand where it came from. You have been invited to an alumni reunion at your old school where you graduated from high school.

You met many old colleagues but there was one in particular that you both were somewhat uncomfortable with. The boy was an ex-boyfriend of his and tried to start a conversation with you. The atmosphere during the event got a little heavy when he clearly looked at you in a way that made you uncomfortable. At the end of it all, Changbin rushed you home and when they arrived you immediately questioned him, worried about his change in mood. Of course, you weren't stupid, you knew everything was involved in this specific situation, but you were still worried about whether he would be okay. You thought he was angry because the guy was clearly inconvenient, but when he confronted you asking why you were paying attention to him you were confused.

It was supposed to be just a conversation, but it all piled up and became a noisy mess. You didn't want to change, but he knew it was unfair for him to place non-existent blame on you and he wanted to defend himself. "Binnie, I don't understand what I did. I swear I-"��

"Don't you understand?" He interrupts you, anger overwhelming him and making his next words come out unconsciously, "YOU WERE CLEARLY HITTING ON HIM! I don't even know why I'm still wasting time being with you, honestly." Silence. You watch him in silence. You felt like you didn't need to say anything else because apparently everything that was stuck in your throats was carelessly deposited one above the other, weight forming on your back. Still scared by his response, you pick up your bag that was on the coffee table and quickly walk towards the entrance. You stop abruptly when you feel your wrist held by Changbin, strong but still light so you can let go. "My love, please- I, I don't know what came over me... forgive me but please don't go." Tears roll uncontrollably down Changbin's face and it makes his heart hurt even more, but you remember that he was the reason your heart was broken in the first place. "...I need to get away from you for today, Changbin." You go out. Now there were two hearts broken by an insecurity that unconsciously generated another.

𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 ¡!

Hyunjin is definitely a hopeless romantic, so it's almost impossible for you two to fight. Of course, there is no perfect relationship, but your fights, If you can call it that, they are small arguments over silly things and, if they fight over something serious, It's discredited in a short time since you can't stand being away from each other, especially if you're fighting. You've been together for almost a year, but even with this considerable passage of time, Hyunjin hasn't taken you to meet his parents. Of course, you didn't care so much, you knew and respected the limits imposed by Hyunjin, knowing that he just wanted to be sure if it was meant to be. But with your one year anniversary approaching, you couldn't help but feel a little insecure, naughty thoughts about herself invading her head like an avalanche of worries.

It was quite late when you were sitting in your room studying as usual. You were so immersed in your duty that you missed the sound of the front door. Not long later, you hear the clanking of dishes in the kitchen and notice Hyunjin's presence. Entering the kitchen, you watch him prepare some ramen for himself, a tired expression was visible on his face and sighs constantly left his lips. He looked exhausted and your heart squeezed seeing him like this. He doesn't seem to notice his presence, huffing impatiently at the water that was heating up. You surround him from behind, your arms hugging his waist and placing your head on his shoulder. He trembles a little from the fright, leaving it a little stiff. "Hey, my love. Relax, it's me." You laugh, patting his right shoulder.

"Sorry, I'm really tired today, y/n." He walks away to get the cutlery from the cabinet, you sigh, moving away to respect his space. "You know, Jinnie… I've been thinking and our anniversary is coming up, in less than a week." He looks at you for a few seconds, seeing where you're going and then goes back to what he's doing. Okay, his disdain brought a small pang to her heart. "And I thought maybe, just maybe, Can you take me to meet your parents." His voice was a little louder than a whisper and he stopped what he was doing. He ran his hand abruptly through his hair, looking at her with a different light in his eyes. "Look, I just want to eat this ramen and sleep, I don't have time to listen to that shit again." You were trying to be understanding, but you insisted. “I know, but- but I’m afraid you’re… ashamed of me. That's why I'm insisting on the matter. I know you're tired-"

"SO WHY DON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE? If you're well aware that you're being a pain in the ass, just shut up and leave," he says all this with a humorless laugh on his lips, "Maybe I don't really want to take her to meet my parents, maybe this will make me rethink whether our relationship is really worth it." That was the last straw to spill the water in his cup of anxiety. You could no longer blame it on tiredness. You didn't mind crying in front of him, but you felt helpless. You take a step back, uselessly drying your tears. You go up and grab your bag quickly, heading towards the main door, not bothering to look back. Hyunjin pulls her towards him, lightly holding your arms and looking into your eyes. "My love, please, please don't, don't go! I was wrong, I- I really shouldn't have said that-"

"But you said it, and you can't take it back. I'm going to sleep at my friend's house. I want to get away from you as soon as possible." You cut him off, now you were the one who was tired. You hurt him too, but he cut you first and plunged the knife deep into the wound.

────────────────────────────────

𝗔/𝗡 - I'll be posting the maknae line soon! I confess that I didn't intend to write something long, but I really can't write something with less than 500 words 😭 I hope you liked it. Please don't forget to leave comments, I'm happy when I hear your opinion on my chapters ;) like × reblog!¡ original by:: @hyunjinners ^-^

[dixons-sunshine]

Imagine this…. for the young daryl X young reader au

Reader has a camcorder which she carries around when her and daryl go on little trips and they end up finding it again after years for whatever reason and it’s a nice little fluffy scene where they relive earlier times together before everything

A Trip Down Memory Lane | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: While unpacking your things for your new apartment with Daryl, you stumbled across an old video camera you had used to film little moments between you and Daryl in your teen years. A visit down memory lane gives Daryl the push he needed to ask you something important.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre outbreak.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams universe.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 1.5k

A/n: This request was so cute! I hope you don't mind that I paired it with another idea I had. It just seemed like it would fit perfectly. And I made Daryl romantic in this because he's a romantic deep down.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Dear god, what the fuck was I thinking? That style was horrible!”

Daryl laughed at your comment, pulling you closer into his side. “I think ya looked cute. Kinda like Minnie Mouse in a way.”

“That doesn't make it any less horrible. Polka dots and frilly pink headbands are not my thing,” you laughed, skipping to the next video on the video camera you had found.

You and Daryl were in the midst of unpacking the boxes with all of your things. The two of you had just recently found a cheap enough apartment to rent and were busy organising everything when you had stumbled upon an old video camera that you had used when you were teenagers. Everything else was quickly forgotten as you and Daryl sat in the middle of what should be the living room, surrounded by a bunch of boxes as you took a trip down memory lane.

“Fuck, please tell me tha' ain't me,” Daryl groaned when a younger version of him appeared on the screen. “Jesus, buddy. Ya ever heard of sunlight? It'd do ya good to work on yer tan. Ya look like a fuckin' sheet of paper.”

You chuckled at the comment, nodding your head in agreement. “You do kinda look pale in this.”

“Looks like I needed at least 50 blood transfusions. M'surprised I didn't drop dead back then,” Daryl agreed, shaking his head in disapproval of his former self. “Can't believe s'already been a decade. Feels like jus' yesterday when we were back in yer mom's trailer.”

“Time flies. Now we're moving in to what is hopefully our last apartment for a while. You've got a great job down at that motorcycle repair shop and I've got a great teaching gig,” you replied, placing the video camera down next to you.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm,” he agreed, before giving you a playful smile. “Dun' know 'bout yer gig, though. Those five year olds are gremlins. They're gon' eat ya alive when ya start on Monday. Ya dun' stand a chance.”

You faked an offended gasp and shoved him lightly, eliciting a laugh from him. “I'll have you know, Mr Dixon, that I'm more than capable of handling a couple of five year olds. I've been doing it for two years.”

Daryl smiled and pulled you closer into his side, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Yeah, I know. S'those high schoolers yer plannin' on teachin' one day tha's gon' eat ya up. Teenagers are the real ones ya should look out for.”

“Luckily that won't be for a while. I'm quite content on just teaching the little ones for now,” you responded, nuzzling your face into his chest. “And teenagers aren't that bad. Most of them are just misunderstood. Some of them are in situations a lot like—”

Despite cutting yourself off, Daryl knew exactly what you meant. If it were any other person, Daryl would've gotten pissed, but it wasn't just any other person. It was you, the love of his life, the person who's stuck with him despite everything, because of everything. He wouldn't fault you for one slip up. God only knows he'd said so much worse a couple of years ago, but you forgave him.

You were amazing to him like that.

“Situations a lot like wha' I went through,” Daryl finished for you, letting out a deep sigh.

“Sorry,” you hurriedly apologised, pulling back slightly to look into your boyfriend's eyes. “I didn't mean to bring it up. I—”

A tender kiss to your lips shut you up instantly. When Daryl pulled back, he gave you a reassuring smile. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel like he'd get mad at you for one minor slip of the tongue.

“S'alrigh',” he reassured you. “M'not mad. And yer righ'. There's way too many kids tha' go through wha' I went through. Tha's why any highschool would be lucky to have ya. Ya could help a lot of kids in situations like tha'. No, ya will help a lot of kids in situations like tha'. Jus' like ya helped me.”

You smiled and gently cupped his cheek, bringing him into a sweet kiss. “I love you,” you whispered when you pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

“I love ya too. More than ya'll ever know,” he responded, before pulling away and reaching for something in his pocket. “But maybe this will give ya a glimmer of how much I love ya.”

You gasped in surprise, happy tears welling up in your eyes. A choked up laugh escaped you, ecstasy flooding through your body as your eyes flickered between the man you loved and the small, round object he held delicately between his fingers.

A ring.

“I know this ain't the most expensive ring out there, and it dun' have some big diamond in the middle tha's worth more than this apartment, but m'hopin' s'enough. If I could get a better one, I would, and I will someday. Someday when I finally get promoted and yer teachin' high schoolers, when we dun' have to worry 'bout rent and shit like tha'.”

You smiled through your tears, another small laugh escaping. “Daryl—”

“Nah, please let me finish 'fore I chicken out,” he cut you off. When you nodded, he continued. “Ya've always been there fer me. Ever since we were twelve and ya started joinin' me by tha' river. When I needed ya the most, ya were always there with a reassurin' smile and a willin' ear. Then ya became my girlfriend ten years ago, and despite everythin', ya've stuck with me. Despite my outbursts, my baggage, my brother...”

You laughed at that. “I really don't like your brother.”

Daryl chuckled and nodded. “I know, but ya stayed. Fer ten years now, ya've been by my side. Yer my best friend, my partner in crime, the love of my life, and there's no one I wanna spend the rest of my days with than the beautiful, kind, funny, smart woman right in front of me. Yer my ray of sunshine, the one who always manages to make me feel better.”

Daryl adjusted himself until he was on one knee in front of you. Your breath got caught in your throat, and you scrambled to sit on your knees, your eyes sparkling in wonder as the ring glinted in the light.

“Sunshine, would ya do me the honour of bein' my wife?”

Words completely eluded you at that moment. You quickly grabbed his face and brought him into a kiss, that particular kiss conveying more than words ever could. When you pulled away, you smiled softly at him.

“Yes, I'll marry you. You didn't even have to ask.”

Daryl let out a sigh of relief and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “God, tha' was nerve wrackin'.”

You laughed as you pulled away from the hug. “I bet. You know, for a man of few words, that speech was kind of incredible. It definitely beat the one I had planned for you.”

Daryl frowned in confusion. “Wha' speech fer me?”

Nervously, you reached into your own pocket and pulled out a silver band. Daryl's eyes widened in surprise as you showed him the ring you had.

“I was kinda getting fed up with waiting for you to pop the question, so I was gonna take matters into my own hands.”

Daryl let out a laugh of surprise and shook his head. “Wow,” he mused. “Gender roles be damned, huh?”

“Damn straight,” you agreed, before motioning to the ring in his hand. “You can slip the ring on my finger, Mr Dixon.”

Complying with your request, he slipped the ring onto your finger. Before you even had to ask, Daryl extended his left hand to you. You smiled and slipped his own ring onto his finger.

Looking at the ring, Daryl smiled fondly. “Ya continue to surprise me everyday, Mrs Dixon.”

“I'm not a Dixon yet,” you reminded him, allowing him to pull you into his arms for the millionth time that day. “But I could be one soon. Maybe tomorrow, even.”

“Ya suggestin' we elope?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at the idea—an idea that sounded absolutely perfect to him. “Yer mom would kill us if she found out.”

“Well,” you began, admiring the ring on your finger. “It's better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Besides, we don't need some elaborate wedding to show how much we love each other. All we need is each other, and someone willing to officiate. We can go to the courthouse tomorrow.”

“Tha' sounds absolutely perfect,” Daryl agreed, pressing a kiss to your head.

“By the way, if you buy me another ring in the future to replace this one, I will be pissed. This ring is perfect.”

“Whatever makes ya happy, Mrs Dixon. I love ya.”

“I love you too.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[cherubispunk]

NEPHILIM - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the disturbing comforts the disturbed.

a note from Lucy: I swear there is fluff! I swear, I swear, I swear! You just have to squint *reeeeaaaalllly* hard. Yes, I read the book of genesis and the book numbers along with some extensive Wikipedia deep diving for like…a paragraph of lore. But is it really ever enough?

playlist | moodboard

wc: 2498

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DARK CONTENT! no use of y/n, I tried to keep her body type as generic as possible but he might be slightly skinny coded so please let me know and I’ll change it in edits, reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, verbally constipated Joel Miller, brief gore descriptions, heavy religious imagery and references to the bible, biblical lore, bombastic age gap!!! yahhhhh! (reader is in her 20’s/ Joel is in his late 50’s), smut, p in v sex, creampie, fingering, rough sex, possessive!joel, dom!joel/sub!reader dynamic, you know the drill with my writing, there’s probably some form of cannibalism as a metaphor, or brutal violence as a metaphor, religious imagery as a metaphor, etc. (aka, fancy word vomit)

series masterlist | m.list

Genesis 6:4 The Nephilim were in the earth in those days, and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them; the same were the mighty men that were of old, the men of renown.

The reality of it was, you and Joel were two people who lived in the same small town. Who’s paths crossed once to save your life, and the others when coincidence would grant you that small pleasure. He carried you to the care of an old man with blue eyes now milky in cataracts. Jude. Who nursed you to health in a metal framed bed of an old family home— now the town clinic. The knife that sliced open your side had been dirty, and sepsis soon spread in the bloody gash. Only with Joel finding you in the snow, and Jude delivering you antibiotics, did you recover back to health.

He wouldn’t visit you directly. He would visit Jude and glance at you through the doorway as he passed the hall to the elderly Man’s office. To distract from the man you read stories when bedridden. Parts of biblical scripture; Read the book of Genesis; Read the book of Numbers. Jude being a religious man who had the fortune of holding God in his heart, kept them among his medical journals and books. And the former was far more interesting than the later in your opinion. For in them were mentions of anthropomorphic creatures born of flesh, blood and divinity. Towering tall over common trees and temples built in the name of Lord God. You were no religious woman, but you found comfort in the fables of the Old Testament. And likened Joel to the Nephilim in all ways.

Joel Miller was something of a biblical figure to you. A small glimpse into the past of something archaic, untold, and harbouring on the dangerous. You liked to imagine him as one of the Nephilim. A son of god, offspring borne of a fallen angel and man. A giant of misunderstood nature. Who’s soul had been cast down on earth in punishment. His large hands had bloodshed on them, or so people had said. They whispered it quietly in the spaces between. The places he didn’t occupy often. But he was always on your mind…so there was no place for those whispers there. If he was all that bad…why did he save you? You saw his need to care, protect, understand. Not be understood. But just understand. You would let yourself dream of taking his rough edges to the smooth plane of a whetstone. People claimed you cannot buff brass into gold. That it will only be as such in your head. That it was a fools game, but the fool is rich in content, and poor in sorrow. For the fool has little to worry about while they live in ignorant bliss.

What wasn’t written in any of the books of the holy scripture was this; ‘The disturbing comforts the disturbed.’ But it might as well have been. It was practically the way god intended life to be. You are shaken, and you are weaned on being shaken, until stillness is a discomfort and your body begs to be rattled again. But harder.

—

You took a while to find your feet. Joel took it upon himself to wordlessly help you with any medial or manual task. You were given a house on the edge of town, up a hill in some remote street that was always quiet. It seemed the less social souls resided there. Not that you minded. It was jarring to say the least. Being cast out into the hostile wild. And then brought back into the warmth. Here you had clothes, food, a roof over your head, and community. It stung in the same way it does to run your hands under a scalding tap after labouring out in the cold. It made your fingers numb before they regained feeling. Stiff. And a trouble to flex them back and forth, closed fist, open palm; Closed fist, open palm.

It’s how you earned ‘Bambi’. A name only Joel would ever call you. Dear doe on her wobbly, spindly legs. He’d keep you upright. Despite being a good thirty year sicker than you. Dirty old man. Ditsy little girl.

Your time together was silent. And while he never said he cared, he showed it. By waiting for you each time you were in the stables. And he would walk through town with you a safe distance from his side, up to the top of the hill your house was on. The snow would crunch under his heavy boots and he wished he was lighter on his feet like you. Not a large bulk of a man with heavy feet and even heavier hand. Maybe Joel wasn't large by the world's standards, but he was still a giant to you- muscular, and broad shoulders. With hands that could engulf yours, or cradle the entire crown of your head with a single palm. His arms were strong, and large from manual labour, and tightly knotted with tendons and grizzly muscle like thick twisted ropes that held up sails. What you liked most, however, was his softer belly. Perhaps the only soft thing about him from what little you had seen, or heard, or assumed. You felt an intrinsic satisfaction in knowing he was well fed. And Joel didn't mind it either. It was a reminder to himself what he was in fact as safe as he could be. Anything to not go hungry again. He still kept his brawns either way. Kept his hands and mind busy with patrols and the odd job around town. Fixing roofs, garden sheds, building tables with spare lumber from the woodhouse, and chopping firewood for the colder months. At the beginning of winter he would spend most of his free time ensuring you had enough. He spent hours out in his backyard, swinging that axe down on log, after log of wood. Then carry it up the hill in a wheelbarrow to your front door. He did it for nothing. Nothing but the peace of mind that grew from the seed of knowing you were warm. But he was greeted with something you had baked, or sewn, or knitted, or grown in your empty hours alone. Apple and rhubarb pie, thick woollen gloves, sourdough bread with crunchy, thick crusts that crunched when he broke his bread.

“It’s nothin’.” He would say, and shrug, hands on his hips while he looked back at the finished product of whatever work he’d slaved over that entire afternoon. Be it a pile of firewood, raised garden beds, or a fixed gutter. “Just…do me a favour?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“Keep that smile on y’face, Bambi. Don’t let anyone take it away from ya.” His face was stern. As if he was telling you, not asking you. But if you were to ever stop smiling he thought he’d keel over and die a little bit inside. Or part of him would anyway. The part of him you now had in your chest unwittingly.

You watched the mountain of a man, Big Bad Joel Miller, warm up. Day by slow day. He was on the threshold of it. Right there. But the toe of his thick winter boots never ventured onto floorboards. He stayed out in the cold. After a while you dared Joel to touch you. Tired of him only meeting halfway. He was a man of few words, but a man of so much action. And when you challenged him with your tongue, he countered with his touch. That night was hell under the guise of heaven for his restraint.

“Y’so bad for me, Bambi.” Joel grunted, his entire weight smothering you against the mattress of his bed. His cock dragging in and out of you slowly. “Old sinner like me ain’t made for you.” So slowly the anticipation ached in the joints of your toes that curled. His grip on your hips casting his handprint in a watercolour bloom. “That’s it, fuck– takin’ me so well.”

You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, back arching in a deep curve off the bed while his hips altered their pace. Just a tad quicker as you bucked up into him. The two of you climbing in tandem to the high. “That's it,” He repeated in a hiss, followed by a growl into your neck, “Keep archin’ that back for me.” You did just that, holding onto his forearms for leverage as you curled your spine a little deeper. A word came to mind. One you’d heard once before. Only once. But I held such a comfort to be able to label it. Hiraeth. He was that. And what you felt was that. A longing for a home. He treated you like you wouldn't break. But spoke as if words would lacerate you. One punctuated thrust, aided by your own slick was all it took, a moan for him deeper. A tear slipped from your eye and you let gravity do its work, pulling it from you. It slipped from the corner of your eye, and down your temple. “Good girl, Bambi.” He crooned, splaying both of his palms over your hairline and sweeping the hair that stuck to your forehead in the sheen of sweat atop your skin. His large hands dragged over the top of your skull to the crown of your head, down the back of your neck, and gripped. That soft fleshy part at the base of your skull and the top of your still curved spine.

It hurt. It deeply hurt. His calloused fingers, textured by the trigger of a gun, or the handle of an axe, pressing into your malleable skin. But you’d let Joel drag you to hell if it meant he would hold your hand. You didn't care how he touched you– how he was inside you. He could be buried to hilt in your cunt, or knuckle deep in an open wound. As long as he was there. You'd give the heavens, and the earth, and rot in hell if it meant he stayed. Joel swore you had the space for his heart next to yours. But you didn't have the stomach.

You gripped the skin of Joel’s back. Searching for a part of him to hold that would turn off the cynic in him. Or at least try. You gave up on that idea. Because the man that fucked you— the man that loved you in action and not words— was not kind. He was not gentle. He was bold, and sharp as broken glass, and blunt all in the same being. You knew the crease of his brow. You had it memorised.

He hooked a leg over his shoulder, opened you up to his greedy eyes. They misted into dark hickory at the sight of you taking him so well inside of you. Messy little cunt for him to play with whenever he pleased. His nostrils flared as he pressed deeper. And your reaction was as he planned. A cry of his name. Your sex drenched and accommodating every inch. “A cunt made for me.” He gritted through his teeth, leaning forward to sink his teeth into your bottom lip and lick into the wet cavern of your mouth; Take the taste of you back with him when he retreated again; Righting his hips and the angle he fucked you in.

“Made for you.” You agreed in a garble and a slur. As if drunk off the last dregs of his kindness that lay at the bottom of the bottle. Licking it dry for all it was still worth.

“Say it again.” Joel grunted, demanded.

“Made for you.” You repeated.

“Good little Bambi.”

From there it was the crescendo. And it came broken in two halves of two separate waves. The first wave was one of numbing pleasure. The one that fizzled through your legs until you were nothing but a mere speck for a second. And the second was the one that broke you. Had you shattering. It tightened in your womb, behind the mouth of your cervix, and then released in slow flutter; Your walls relaxing and then contracting. And he came after with a groan and spilled inside of you.

He was no gentle lover. In fact, he wasn’t a lover at all. When he fucked you that night…it felt like he was trying to love you— but couldn’t. He was too conditioned to violence. It showed the ache he left behind. Nevertheless, you would take more than he was willing to offer. But what he dropped in your palm you stored away and hoarded like a greedy magpie with shiny little trinkets. He was warm. But not warm like a campfire. He was warm like hellflame. And you were okay with that. You would take your time with him, and slowly pry open a gap in his ribs to slip past. To love him to the marrow. Even the mangled parts. Find him at his very worst — The part humanity suffocated in. And love him there. Silently.

Joel ran a hand over the flank of your ribs and then curled around your navel to pull your back to his chest. Then kissed the crook of your neck in a silent apology to your skin for each mark or tender bruise he may have left. One that wasn't really needed, but you accepted it by reaching behind you and running your fingers through his thick greying curls. In times like these after it all, in the clot and space in between, you came to realise loving him was like loving being hungry. It felt good to want things. To feed yourself you swallowed your fear instead. You lay there, exhaustion heavy in your bones, a hand of his slipping between your legs to feel the evidence of him being there inside you. His spend sticky and thick and warm between your legs. You couldn't fight the impulsive twitch that jolted your spine when he pressed on your swollen, slick clit and drew lazy circles. “Mine now, Bambi.” He murmured into the skin of your shoulder. He didn't kiss the skin there, but rather trailed his chapped lips over your flesh in such a light touch it felt like it was hardly there. More a trick of the sex hazed, lust crazed mind. “Understand that?” And you nodded in silence with a small smile, watching out the frosted up window pane as the dawn stained the sky a burnt orange and angry red. It refracted and smeared in the crystallised ice. A thin sheet that obscured the image of the sycamore tree outside his bedroom window. The bare branches looked far more like the bones of skeletal fingers than a tree bare of leaves. Its bleach white bark only emphasised your image of it. Your vision. Nevertheless; The blackbird would sing, once again on its branch, a morning song you knew by heart.

[ron456]

AHHHHH- IM SO SICK OF THE BS I SWEAR-

FIRST OF ALL-

He doesn't "act naturally" or "normal" because HE'S AUTISTIC-

Will Roland portrays him as AUTISTIC so he's gonna act AUTISTIC-

ALSOOOO- IT'S BROADWAY, BABE- THEY NEED TO BE OVERDRAMATIC AND VERY EXPRESSIVE OTHERWISE THE PREFORMANCE DOESN'T CARRY THROUGH THE WHOLE THEATRE-

AND ANOTHER THING- Jeremy is supposed to be a "loser"-

he gets bullied and is misunderstood by his peers because he is, well, NOT CHILL-

HE'S "CHALANT" AS HELL-

He gets bullied because he cares about things too much, he's anxious, he's loud-

And in regards to the "can't hold a note for too long"- have you heard Loser, Geek, Whatever? Or More Than Survive? Or Two Player Game??? Song where he holds notes for quite a long time- ALSO- to say that Will Roland can't reach the same notes as Will Connolly is just... not true.

And one of the reasons I think some people think Will Roland is "a worse singer" is because, sometimes, stylistically, Will Roland will use a sort of falsetto/head voice (which I LOVE BTW AND IM SICK OF PEOPLE CALLING OTHER PEOPLE BAD SINGERS BECAUSE THEY USE HEAD VOICE- IT'S BEAUTIFUL, IMPRESSIVE, AND REQUIRES GOOD BREATH CONTROL TO MAKE IT NOT SOUND CRAPPY AND WILL ROLAND DOES IT AMAZINGLY) like when he says "hero" and "Rob Dinero" (idk if that's how you spell it 😭) in More Than Survive.

It's not that he's a bad singer, he is taking the brunt of his voice during those parts and also, given that it's this little solo/soliloquy moment for Jeremy, I think that Will Roland's choice to use a light head voice there is perfectly well-placed. It feels kinda personal, I guess. And I love it <3

Not to say that Will Connolly's way of singing it isn't also great. It's awesome! But like, guys, we can't keep getting pissed when a new actor in a show doesn't have the exact same singing voice as the original 😭 That's just silly, guys. 😭

(LIKE WHEN PEOPLE GOT PISSED AT ELIZABETH TEETER'S LYDIA FOR SOUNDING TOO MUSICAL THEATRE-Y?? LIKE. HUH?!? GUYS, IT'S BROADWAY- WHAT DO YOU MEANNN??? Sorry, I have feelings- Also, Shoutout to Elizabeth Teeter, btw, cuz' she slayed <3)

Anywaysss- back to Will Roland's voice- he is very much capable of hitting the notes that Will Conolly hits- if not higher (IT'S NOT A COMPETION THO, GUYS- PLS DONT COME FOR ME). For example, the acoustic version of Loser, Geek, Whatever on Spotify which, I believe, is a key higher than usual!! This man can belt some high notes when the situation calls for it! And also, (these are not really bmc related but whatever) during the harmony or whatever at the end of "Sincerely, Me", that is none other than WiLL RoLaND (!!!) hitting that high E (I'm pretty sure it's an E. I hope it's an E. But regardless, it's still a SUPER HIGH NOTE) at the end! And in "Amphibian" on Joe Iconis' album titled, well, "Album", Will Roland hits some insanely high notes!!! ( EVEN IF THEY ARE HEAD VOICE. I REPEAT, HEAD VOICE DOES NOT MEAN BAD SINGER!!)

Also, as a little additional statement to my "Jeremy is autistic/ autistic-coded so Will Roland played him as autistic"; this is not to say that Will Conolly didn't add some "autistic flare", if you will, to Jeremy. I mean, just yesterday I was freaking out with my friend about a gif of Will Conolly's Jeremy doing the autistic flappy hands :))). And I think that he was a good baseline for other Jeremy's to build off of!

Also, I feel like the people that are saying that Will Roland's portrayal of autism/neurodiversity is "ableist" or "incorrect" or "too dramatic" are sorta failing to understand/acknowledge that autism/neurodiversity is a spectrum. Not every person with autism or another kind of Neurodiversity is gonna act the same. And I think that's something really beautiful that we should all cherish. It is GREAT that we are all different but also, in many ways, the same!

And to see myself and my uncontrolled speaking voice and weird noises and such represented by Will Roland on stage is such a beautiful thing that I think 'ought to be cherished.

[ilguna]

☼ cerulean pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick Odair is an irritating presence, but he knows how to make it up to you, even if it means he takes a hit from the press.

warnings; swearing,

wc; 2.3k

part one

--

Finnick Odair could not make his intentions any more obvious. 

You’re not sure what part of ‘not falling for the same trick twice’ he misunderstood, considering you thought it was pretty straightforward. Yet, here you are, with a bouquet of fresh flowers sitting in front of the apartment door. 

It’s a good thing you told Gloss last night that you had this morning handled, you can’t imagine how he would’ve reacted to this. Or what he would’ve said to you.

A sigh escapes you, as you set your bag on the table next to the door, crouching down to grab the beautifully engraved vase. It’s heavy, due to the sheer amount of flowers that have been stuck inside. Still, you lift it and carry it all the way to the kitchen counter.

The Avox, who is standing next to the light switch, doesn’t move, or so much as eye the flowers. You, on the other hand, turn the glass carefully to see each and every one of them, curious on what he’s picked out. You find classic red roses, peonies, orchids and carnations. 

All of them convey the same message; he’s deeply in love with you.

You find something stuck in the petals right as you’re turning to leave. You reach over, plucking out the yellow notecard with your name neatly printed in cursive in the middle. 

You clear your throat, “Will you put this in my room on the dresser?”

She—the Avox—doesn’t speak, of course, just moves forward at once to grab it. You begin to walk away, heading back to the front door. You flip over the card, reading, ‘For the most beautiful girl here, — Your Dearest Finnick’. You pause next to the front door to grab your bag.

He can’t possibly be delusional enough to think that… Well, he is. For the past week, he has done nothing but bombard you at every chance he’s given, thinking that it’ll make the air between you breathable again. When in reality, you’re doing everything you can to make sure you don’t cross paths for more than a second.

This isn’t entirely out of character for him, and it isn’t the first time he’s gifted you something, either. You’ve received several pieces of jewelry with your birthstone in it, which was surprising to see. You don’t even remember telling him when your birthday is, much less the stone that represents the month. He had to have done the research to figure that out on his own.

You suppose this is his way of telling you that he cares, and he listened when you were together. At the time it was refreshing to have someone genuinely interested in what you had to say. When he went and told the Capitol everything, you assumed your words fell on deaf ears. 

You close the apartment door behind you gently, approaching the elevator. It makes a noise when you press the button, and less than a second later, the doors are opening to let you in. You move to take a step forward, but stop when you see who’s waiting there.

Finnick gives you a smile, moving to hold the elevator doors open for you. “Well, good morning, beautiful.”

You can feel your eye twitch. “I’m going to take the stairs.”

“Don’t, I promise I’ll be good.” He winks, pretending to zip his mouth shut.

You take in a deep breath, staring at him, debating if you can take his word for it. The truth is probably not, as soon as the doors shut, he’s going to open his mouth. Which would be enough for you to leave, except the ride will only last a couple of seconds. The elevators move quick.

“Fine.” You say, stepping inside, choosing the right side.

Finnick removes his hand from the doors, allowing them to close. The button for the Betting Room is already glowing, meaning you won’t have to press it, yourself. The elevator begins to move downward. It’s warm in here, caused by the sun shining directly inside, the glass casing, and the lack of air conditioning.

“I see you’ve gotten your flowers.” Finnick says without turning around.

Your eyes land on the back of his head, squinting at his bronze curls. You don’t bother to ask him how he knows this, he got a good view of the hallway while you were deliberating. The bouquet is clearly nowhere to be seen. Which could mean a number of things—like Gloss or the Avoxes stumbled upon it before you could. 

If the yellow notecard weren’t sticking halfway out of your bag, it would be believable, too. “Mhm.” You hum. “Coming off a little strong, don’t you think?”

He cocks his head to the side, you can only imagine the shit-eating grin on his face. “Well, I distinctly remember you telling me your father did something similar for your mother…” Your lips part, now Finnick turns to see your face. There is no smile, just raised eyebrows. “She’s a florist, right?”

You cross your arms over your chest, turning your head to look out the window, while you try to figure out why he knows this information. Where would this have ever come up during a conversation? It makes no sense. You and Finnick were seeing each other for a month, why would you have told him about that?

“We were talking about grand gestures.” He says, reading your mind.

“What for?” You ask, looking back at him.

He’s turned to face you slightly. “Gloss and Enobaria.”

It dawns on you then, you press your lips together, giving him one big nod. That explains it, actually. Last year, Gloss had a thing for Enobaria, and he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend by announcing his love for her in front of the fountain in the Betting Room.

It wasn’t awful, but Enobaria clearly didn’t like it. It’s one of the reasons why they’re not dating, because she called him a moron and told him to get down. It hasn’t ruined the friendship between them, though, that’s why they’re still comfortable to be around one another.

You vaguely remember talking about this with Finnick one night, laying in bed with him, when he asked you for the story. You told him, since you’d witnessed the entire thing, and followed up by telling him you wouldn’t take a grand gesture like that, either. He asked you what you would accept, and you told him about the story of your parents.

Your mom’s a florist, she has been her entire life. She knows the meaning of flowers inside and out, because it’s her passion. Your dad had tried several attempts before to get your mom’s attention. It wasn’t until he had put together a perfect vase of flowers from his family’s personal garden, did he finally get it.

Finnick must be following your train of thought. “Did it work?”

“Clever.” You admit. “But no.”

Finnick presses the button that’ll stop the elevator in the case of an emergency, causing the alarm to go off briefly. You grab onto the railing when it jerks to a halt, letting out a loud sigh. You should’ve just taken the stairs.

“What can I do to make you forgive me?” He asks, taking a step toward you.

You shake your head at him. “I told you—”

“I know, I know.” He breathes. “I’m sorry, (Y/n). I never should have done that to you. I didn’t think…”

“That you’d ever think of me as more than just a fling?”

“No, that you’d ever let us be more.” He says, emphasizing the word. “Because of the rivalry.”

You snort. “Well, if there’s one thing for sure—it’s that thinking isn’t your strong suit. If you’d talked to me before I left, we could’ve figured it out. There’s no way that’s happening now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No matter how many times you say that word, your actions don’t change.” You tell him, tired of going in circles. You approach him, he straightens. You slap the elevator button again, causing the alarm to go off, before it begins to move again. When you back away, his shoulders slump. “I hear you; you’re sorry. You know what I say to that? Prove it. And I don’t mean through birthstone jewelry and flowers proclaiming your love,” You hold up the notecard. “If you want me, fix what you’ve done.”

His eyelashes flutter slightly as his face relaxes, thinking. 

The doors open, finally. You begin to head out, but stop in the doorway to look back at him to give him another hint. Before you can, Finnick reaches up, placing his hand in front of the doors to keep them from shutting, as if it’s second nature.

“I’m holding onto something.” You tell him, he meets your eyes. “You said so yourself, don’t you remember?”

You step out, Finnick’s arm falls. The door shuts between you.

—

A door slamming in the apartment rattles the picture frames hung in your Capitol-provided bedroom. You look up from where you’re sitting in the corner, book halfway closed, wondering whether or not you should get up to see what the dramatics is about.

“(Y/n)!” Gloss roars, voice echoing through the quiet place, solving the question.

You shut the book, irritated that you’re being interrupted. You get to your feet, tossing what you were reading onto the seat before making your way out of the bedroom. You meet Gloss halfway, as you’re about to step foot into the dining room, and he’s leaving the living room.

“What?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

He’s huffing, “(Y/n), I just had a conversation with Isadora,” She’s your guys’ Capitol escort this year, “Tell me why we got issued a warning about stopping the elevator.”

Your face twists, shaking your head, “That wasn’t me, that was Finnick. I was the one that got it started moving again.”

He squints at you. “You and Finnick were in a stopped elevator together?”

You point at him. “Not willingly.”

“Why?”

“I was going down to the Betting Room and he was already on the elevator.” You shrug. “He stopped it because he wanted to talk to me. It was like that for a minute, maybe two.”

He’s coming toward you. “About what?”

“What do you think?” You throw your hands up. “I warned you that this was going to happen!”

Gloss stares at you for a long moment. “This wouldn’t be an issue at all, if you’d listened to me last year.”

“Honestly, Gloss, I don’t understand why we even have a problem with him and Mags in the first place. It’s stupid.”

“You don’t see why? (Y/n), you’ve got to be kidding me.” He laughs. “Last year wasn’t enough proof for you?”

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath, and then slowly releasing it. “Gloss, if you wanted to avoid this, you would’ve sat next to him at the interviews, instead of Enobaria.” You open your eyes. “You told me I have to deal with the repercussions, and here I am, dealing with them. And I have come to realize that a rivalry with the Four mentors is stupid.”

“Then, by all means, (Y/n), fix that relationship. It won’t matter, because our tributes won’t be mingling with theirs.” He shakes his head at you. “And it won’t change what Finnick said about you on television.”

“I’m well aware.” You hiss.

—

When you come into the main room this morning, ready to eat breakfast and get down to the Betting Room, you’re met with Finnick’s voice. For a few seconds, you’re convinced that he’s inside of the apartment. It isn’t until you come out of the hallway, do you realize that he isn’t.

He’s on television with Caesar Flickerman.

“Oh shit.” You murmur.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today we’re joined with our favorite darling, Finnick Odair. I hear he has a confession to make this afternoon?” Caesar asks, turning in his chair to look at Finnick.

Finnick is dressed nicely, in a clean white shirt and a pair of black slacks. His hair has been combed back to give him a mature appearance. “Yes, actually. It’s pretty hefty, regarding one of my fellow mentors.”

You cross your arms, slowly coming down the steps. 

“What could that be?” Caesar asks.

“Well, last year I came here to talk about (Y/n), and the relationship I had with her.” He starts. “It was all a lie, and I came here to get it off my chest.”

You blink, eyes widening.

“A lie?” Caesar asks what you’re thinking. “How come you’d come on here—”

“I was jealous.” Finnick cuts him off. “(Y/n) is truly a wonderful and sweet person. I tried to pursue her, of course, but I couldn’t handle being rejected. So, I came here to talk to you.”

Caesar doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Finnick, I don’t want to be interpreting you incorrectly, here. Are you telling me that what (Y/n) said in response at the train station was true?”

There’s no hesitation in his actions, he nods fairly aggressively. “Yes, and I can’t sleep at night knowing that what I did is still hurting her.”

You roll your eyes, now he’s laying it on thick. 

“Still? How so?”

“Oh, I hear a lot, it’s hard not to with a face like this.” He winks at the camera. “I know that forgiveness can be a long road, but I’m hoping it starts with this.”

You cross the room, leaning over the couch to grab the remote off the cushion. As soon as the television is off, you feel better, like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. In truth, you weren’t expecting for him to go and pull something like this. Actually, you aren’t sure what you wanted him to do at all, but this is probably the best thing he could’ve done.

He must really want you to forgive him.

[simplygyuu]

Teddy Bear - 26 : i don't like lily, i like you!

*⁀➷synopsis ! : on your birthday one of your best friends, soobin, gifts you an adorable teddy bear. you keep it all day once he gave it to you, carrying the adorable thing around for your entire birthday day and going to sleep with it that night. the next morning you wake up with.. a man in the place of your precious bear?! he doesn't have a name and he looks at you like you hung all the stars and.. did he just say he WAS the bear?

wc : (1.0k)

Beomgyu couldnt help his continued glances in your direction, he was worried and well could you really blame him? You'd never been so distant and after his talk with Lily he was even more nervous. Have you really misunderstood? He never meant for it to seem that way after all. But how could he bring it up to you?

So for the rest of the movie Beomgyu sat there quietly, giving you the space you seemed to want as he tried to come up with a plan. He isnt very good with emotions or serious talks but it was understandable, he's only had about two, maybe three months to even get used to having true emotions. So he didnt really know how to approach tbe topic.

Should he just jump in and say, ‘Do you think i'm dating Lily?’ or would that be too blunt? Should he frame it as a question, like he doesn't know what you may be upset about? Something along the lines of ‘Did I do something wrong?’ and then he could just hope and pray that you'd be truthful? It was hard to choose, both seemed bad.

“I'm going to bed, ‘kay?” Forced him out of his thoughts and he snapped his head towards you as you began to stand up. He needed to be quick before you left, hed lose his mind if he dwelled over this any longer.

“Wait!” Beomgyu exclaimed, a bit too loudly which caused you to stop and face him. “Are you like.. mad at me? Or upset?” He decided on asking, not thinking of much in the moment besides keeping you here to talk. Maybe he was seeing things, but it almost looked like your eyes softened a bit at his question.

“No, what made you think that?” You asked, moving to sit back down on the couch. No matter how much you were overthinking and how jealous you felt, Beomgyu still came first. If you thought he seemed upset then you would drop everything to comfort him.

“It's just.. uh.. you've been more distant recently.” Beomgyu explained hesitantly, fiddling with his fingers as he sent a quick glance your way before looking down. His nervous fidgeting was a bit endearing. “Is it like.. because I've been hanging out with Lily too much? Does it seem like I'm replacing you?”

Beomgyus beginnings of a ramble caused your eyes to widen just a bit. How could he already pinpoint the cause in your change of attitude? What now? Was he going to get mad at you for being jealous of his girlfriend? No. That wouldn't happen, Beomgyu seems more nervous than upset now.

“Me and Lily.. were just friends, yknow? You're much more important to me.” Beomgyu continued on softly, “If.. if it makes you feel better I could stop seeing her so often. Would that help? Would you stop being distant if I did that?”

And if you said that didn't make you feel horrible, you'd really be lying. Did Beomgyu really feel that bad about all of this to the point of him sacrificing his friendship(?)/relationship(?) for you? You could never ask him to do that, especially since you could tell how close he was with Lily. It made you feel like some possessive, over controlling partner and the two of you weren't even dating!

“No, no Beomgyu dont do that. Just.. keep doing what you're doing. You like her, don't you? It'll work out if you keep it up.” You forced out a small smile as you spoke, even if each word pained you to say. You wanted him to be happy even if it meant being with Lily.

“But I don't like her, yn. I swear I don't.” Beomgyu argued back softly, frowning.

“No need to pretend, Beom. I see how you two act, it's normal!” You continued despite his protest. Maybe he was just shy about it since it's his first crush after all.

“No, yn you don't understand! I don't like Lily, I like you!” Beomgyu suddenly exclaimed louder than before, seeming almost fed up with how you kept dismissing him.

As soon as the words left Beomgyus mouth, he knew he had fucked up. He's heard all of the stories, all the people who tell their best friends they like them before everything is ruined because of it. Even Soobin mentioned it having happened with an old friend of his. Beomgyu didn't want you twos relationship to be ruined, that's the last thing he ever wanted! Yet here he was, big mouth blurting out everything.

What if you were so weirded out, so uncomfortable that you kicked him out? Where would he stay? How would he even function without you? You're all he's ever known as sad as it may sound. He's almost like a small duckling, imprinting on the first thing it sees which happened to be you.

You had yet to respond, sitting there in silent disbelief. Beomgyu really liked you? He actually reciprocated your feelings? You were struggling to process the information, especially after preparing yourself for the heartbreak of him having a girlfriend. Unfortunately, Beomgyu took your silence the wrong way. Quickly he stood and grabbed his phone, scurrying over to the front door. That seemed to snap you out of your trance.

“Wait, Gyu!” You called out, also standing but before you reached him he was out the door. Eyes wide you ran over to follow him out, it was way too late for him to be outside alone. Where would he even go? But by the time you opened the door he was gone and it was much too dark to see anything.

“Shit… shit, shit, shit.” You muttered, anxiety skyrocketing. It wouldn't be smart to just run after him in this dark late at night, especially not as a woman. He was a tall guy who managed to look intimidating if he tried, he could handle himself, you told yourself for some semblance of comfort.

Instead, you hesitantly closed the door again before running over to pick up your phone. Maybe the others would know where he was going, he'd have to at least tell them. Right?

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

previous ! masterlist ! next !

notes ! : theres only one or two chapters of teddy bear left now... </3

taglist ! : @lynnfv @openingssequence @wonioml @lunaavity @sunarintoes @bluebearybeom @invusblog @forever-in-the-sky2 @woncheecks @captivq @i8lhee @tatanbin @rynryn2 @qluvrv @wccycc @f4iryho0n @fancy-whitedwarf @totallynotbella @n0-thisispatrick @aeulia @zaeeeee @jungwon-kitten @sserafimez @lynanist @mazeinthemoon @valentinurz @zoe8stay @thisisnotjacinta @lonewolfjinji @moavill97 @yuhjoeyuh @nagyaons @rikismiel @luvmeatballs4ever @beomgyubeomgyu @beomomb @enhyjin @jwnghyuns @tae-ology @luvdokja @sweetpoetrypersona @squiishymeow @ddenoudepression @moonlight-at-nighttime @asters-abditory @fatoompie @ikaeryn @jayyyynieeee @chuuinggummy @nnniika @iluvvkkh @koeuh @fanfangying1304 @90steele @edenfray @fallenstar11 @reveworld @mywonie

taglist is now closed! <3

[barefoot-a-pregnant]

What has the husband taken into account about his wife?

Thats the tile from a german website, that I found years ago! *laugh* I will try my best to get it to you in english, because I know not many speak german here. Please forgive mistakes, as english isn't my first language. "Never forget that your Wife is a Lady too. Don't allow yourself to be inconsiderated forwards her; you woudn't be inconsiderated forwards another woman. * Don't hurt her feelings with swear language *Don't made yourself the house Tyran, that everybody fears *Don't let yourself go slop. Groom yourself. *Don't carry the trouble of the workface into your home. *Please your wife sometimes with a little present or special attention. Don't forget her birthday or namesday; even so your wedding date; and think hard and thoughtful about her presents. It will look bad, when you just give her money to buy her presents, so that you don't have to trouble yourself. Go on a Date once a while, because your wife will love the change of scenery and attention. Don't always look at your wife as housewife and housekeeper, but as a companion and comrade too. Don't make fun about her Hobbys, especially if these are intellectual or artistic nature; but try to share them or at least respect them. Don't allow yourself an unpleasant Comment about her or her comments in the seight of others. Always remember your kids, even the adult ones, to respect and reverence her. Do for her, what you would do to other woman too. Stand up to greet her; pick something up, when it falls down; give the better seat to her; help her into her clothes; let she going first (except when you enter an restaurant); always be as thoughtful forwards her as you were before marriage. Trust your wife in therms of money and never let she guessing about your financial situation.

Measure your household money adapted to your circumstances; never let her beg for it. The same goes for her private needs; that will her and you save tons of unpleasentries. The love between husband and wife will get polished trough good manners. If the Housewife is working outside...

Today it will happend, that the married couple or even the wife alone will provides the income. Than it isn't good, that the woman have the burden of the household all alone. This will damage her health in short time. The husband, in such times, will try his best to lessen her burden. In the war- and after war times many couples were exemplary in doing these.

Note:

*Being in a heated state should never be an excusion for bad behaviour *"Whatever Thing, talk about it to your wife; and if she's small, bend over to her." (Talk to her on her "eyelevel" and not from above.) *Misunderstood woman are often ignorant woman *Talking badly about your husband to others is the first step to cheating *Ongoing needles made more pain, than one serious wound (just don't nag and nag. If something is wrong, name it clear and loud.) Quelle: Erinnerungswerkstadt Norderstedt (Found it in the book: "Der gute Ton" from Konstanze von Franken. 1953)

[the-angriest-author]

Writeblr intro

Hallooo..

not sure if I'm doing this right... tbh, idek what to put on here. Anyhow, I've been writing for about two years now (YAY!!). I mostly write poetry although as I write this most of my posts are short stories of the fantasy variety. I like reading swoon-worthy romances so if you write anything that makes me blush and kick my feet like the teenage girl I am, I will follow you and maybe stalk all your posts. If you are the grammar police I must warn you that you will be forced to arrest me after reading my posts (I'M WORKING ON IT, not really tho).

I've been on Tumblr for idk how long but I keep ghosting the app (Life and whatnot) I'm craving community, especially with fellow authors, maybe ones with more writing experience (I am a newbiiieee). Guys... I swear I won't ghost again 🤭.

And here are all my labels for all my lovely people:

She/Her

WOC

Queer (bi or pan idek man this sexuality shit aint for the weak of heart)

Retired Stoner (Moved to a place where I can't smoke)

Raging bitch (Moved to a place where I can't smoke)

Capricorn Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Capricorn Rising (Raging Bitch)

Not actually a raging bitch, just think it's funny (Please like me)

ADHD (Prone to run on sentences and overusing parentheses)

Chronically misunderstood (Capricorn)

Very Annoying (Sagittarius Moon)

Certifiably Woo-Woo (Hence the astrology references)

Not Funny (I think I'm hilarious and spent 5 minutes straight laughing at this little section)

Current WIPS

To The Stranger Who Stumbles ~ A collection of poetry written during a time of my life when I was experiencing some intense change and coming to terms with certain childhood events that were... not so fun.

Genre: Poetry

Word Count: 5953

Stage: Beta Reading (message me if ur interested)

The Mad ~ Mildred the Mad and her crew of dangerous and mythical women are charged with kidnapping and delivering the Seelie Prince to the Unseelie kingdom. But with every plan comes complications, some in the form of brooding king's guards.

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Action

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Found Family

Current Word Count: 4434

Stage: ROUGH DRAFT and planning

P.S. My messages are open! Let's connect!

Published Works

The Hidden (w)Hole of a Heart ~ Literally my whole heart shat out onto paper. But seriously tho it's available on Amazon now and I would appreciate any support. In actuality, it's a story about a young woman (Yours Truly) coming to terms with her deeply feeling nature and Depression. The poems describe the heaviness of emptiness and the overwhelmingness of intense emotions.

Excerpts:

Haunted House

Feelings stick to my walls like ghosts,

How is an exorcism performed on a memory?

How do I let them pass through me?

An Apology to The Crone

Pressing my tiny fleshy palms to my ears,

I refused to hear the wisdom of the crone.

Her voice was scratchy with use,

As she warned me of my journey.

I’d close my eyes with every disaster.

The niggling feeling would whisper a wrong,

And I’d pray to God my feet were swift,

So, they could carry me away.

I’d refuse to harden,

Reasoning that beauty is only found in the soft.

I waited to be taken by my knight.

I never cared that the gleam in her armor was an illusion.

I stand unprepared for the cruel world.

Preserved in my maidenhood.

Having grown tired of disobedience, 

The crone has abandoned me.

Only now do I see the clarity of your wisdom,

I will forever be sorry.

A Terrible High

on occasion

there are quiet moments

where minds begin to fill blanks

when small things grow

rock to boulder

smashing me against the ground

flat

nothing 

2D

I’m nonexistent.

If I were nonexistent

the boulder would simply blow through

and I’d be nothing.

And I’d be okay.

[monpalace]

Okok, so my brain is not working with writing rn BUT i will finish that “reader and time pinning” thing that i was doing I PROMISE

BUT for now imma just share some thoughts of Time because he is THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AND I NEED TO RANT ABOUT HIM

*ahem*

Ive said before (on my blog) that Time uses really old and kinda cringey petnames because 1, he genuinely loves them and 2, because he LOVES making the boys squirm in second hand embarrassment. SO, have a few more of those nicknames :D -> snookums, sugarplum, baby cakes, muffin, foxy, and toots

Young time (like teenage/young adult) was an absolute bastard BUT when he falls in love with someone, he is an absolute sweet heart! Think the ‘i hate everyone but you’ trope :3

Young! Time did not know romance AT ALL! That boy was raised by a tree and a bunch if spirit kids, he has know idea what a ‘date’ is. This leads to him just acting the same around his crush but being a little nicer to them

Is then very confused as to why they dont know that he likes them. “It was so obvious? I gave you a piece of my apple pie! I was so clear with my signs 🙄🙄”

He THEN reads all the romance novels he can get his hands on (legally and illegally) just so he can impress them! Completely misunderstood everything and now he just has to straight up tell them, cause how their hair is on fire…somehow

(Modern) Time is totally the type of guy that ‘doesn’t like drama shows’ but if his lover was watching one, he’d stand behind the couch and watch. But when his lover offers to move so he can sit hes like ‘no, im not even watching it. I was just bored’ and the proceeds to watch the next 3 episodes while standing.

(Modern) Time has a leather jacket that he LOVES!! Like he will cut someone for that thing, do not fuck with it. No one is aloud to wear it expect him….And his crush/lover but SHUSH!

Time enjoys polishing his armour/sword while you read a book out aloud. You both find it rather relaxing. Until something dramatic/a polt twists happens, all if the sudden the armour/sword is dropped to the side as Time is BAFFLED by this. “They killed Aaron?! Wh-what? Why!? He was the best choice for Max!” (Hes so invested, his duties are now discarded until you two finish this chapter)

I wanna do more but this is kinda chunky :3

I love dis man so much 🫶🫶

THE WAY I PHYSICALLY AND VERBALLY CRINGED AT FOXY??? bro's the type to say "hey foxy mama" when you walk into a room unironically, he literally has no shame whatsoever whenever someone points out how dated that sounds to

time would fit the secret admirer trope so well though? but he wouldn't even be secret about it?? the lon lon sisters def gave him the advice to "just be himself" and that gave him the idea to take stuff from his woodland-spirit background

"link, why is my house filled with flowers from floor to ceiling."

"that's not a declaration of adoration here? huh."

AND HIM TAKING THE ROMANCE BOOKS? personally, i feel like he's the type to sneak into the library when (supposedly) nobodies looking and just taking whatever he can carry before sneaking back out-- but in actuality it's just that nobody cares

someone asked zelda if he was allowed to take the books because they've been coming back in a damaged state (it's not bad, but while he's workshopping how he's gonna bring words to reality, he messes up a little) and she just says its fine so long as he isn't committing crimes with them (which he has done. several times. no one knows)

ofc there are questions as to WHY he's taking the romance books specifically, but the guards and librarians just chalk it up to him entering his weird boy phase ™️ and not because he has an interest in somebody because him?? having a love interest before half the other people in the castle??? Nah.

you catch modern! time watching a (raunchy) reality show once (like love island, or jersey shore-- maybe even teen mom) and he swears up, down, to the golden three, and to the sand goddess that he just kept it on for noise and that he's paying all his attention to his work even though you caught him ON VIDEO having the most expressive reactions to certain moments

BUT THE LEATHER JACKET ONE?? someone walks up to you while you're wearing it (your relationship with time isn't common knowledge yet) and they make a joke about him burying them alive if they mess it up-- no less just because you're wearing it.

time pops up out of literal thin air making excuses that you were cold (you were not), he was hot and didn't feel like carrying it (his goosebumps say otherwise), he thought there was a tear and he wanted to try and fix it (.. yeah, okay.), he only gave it to you because you said it would go with your outfit (that is not the only reason he'd give it to you), and everything else just to try to hide the fact that he's soft

(also, bonus points if you made it??? now not even the goddesses could touch it. he's about three seconds away from giving into the inner ferality of his childhood self and biting someone if they even look at it)

but tell me why i just imagine time getting ready to like, get in a fight or something, you read something so earth-shatteringly shocking in the book, and he's immediately like "the battle can wait. [opponent] was gonna lose anyways. we have to figure out what the devil is about to happen"

i'm literally scooping ur brain from ur skull, putting it on a table, and i'm gonna examine it for the rest of ur ideas mwah

[vilentia]

Misunderstood Affection

Daryl Dixon x reader

TW: I've never posted any stories before, so I don't know if trigger warnings are needed here. Feel free to let me know if I should add any.

***

You had always known that Daryl Dixon was a complicated man. He was rough around the edges, fiercely independent, and seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Despite all that, you had fallen for him. Hard. You two had started dating after the fall of the prison and you had never been happier. That was, until you found something that made your heart shatter into a million pieces.

It was a beautiful spring day in Alexandria and you had woken up earlier than usual. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. After a quick shower, you headed to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. As you were waiting for the pot to finish brewing, you heard a soft noise coming from Daryl's room. You hadn't heard him leave, so you figured he was still in there. You pushed open the door, expecting to see him sound asleep, but instead, you found him on the bed, wrapped up in the arms of another woman.

You felt like someone had just punched you in the stomach. You couldn't believe it. How could Daryl do this to you? You had thought he was different from all the other men you had dated, but it turned out he was just the same. Your heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces as you stumbled out of the room, tears streaming down your face.

You spent the rest of the day in your room, trying to make sense of what you had seen. You couldn't stop the tears from flowing, no matter how hard you tried. You felt like you had been so stupid for thinking that Daryl was different, for thinking that he actually cared about you. It turned out, he was just like all the others. He had used you and then moved on to someone else.

You decided to confront Daryl about what you had seen, but when you went to his room, he was gone. You searched the entire community, but he was nowhere to be found. You felt like you were losing your mind. You were trying to come to terms with the fact that the man you loved was a cheater, when you heard a knock at your door. It was Daryl.

He looked terrible, like he had been through hell. He told you that he needed to talk to you, that there was something he needed to explain. You felt a glimmer of hope in your heart, but you tried to push it away. You followed him to the courtyard and he sat you down on a bench. He took a deep breath and then started to speak.

"I didn't cheat on you. That woman you saw me with, she's a friend of mine. Her name is Carol and she's going through a really tough time right now. I was just holding her, trying to make her feel better. That's all. I swear to you, I would never cheat on you."

You felt your heart start to beat again. You had never thought of Carol as a romantic partner for Daryl, but you had never really considered her a close friend either. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, but you still needed to be sure.

"Daryl, how do I know that's the truth? I saw you in bed with her, wrapped up in her arms. How can I believe you?"

"I know it looked bad, but I swear to you, it was just a misunderstanding. Carol was upset and I was trying to comfort her. That's all. I would never do anything to hurt you."

You looked into his eyes and you could see the truth. You could see the love and the sincerity in his gaze. You knew, without a doubt, that he was telling the truth.

[lunaprincipessa]

ENTRY SEVENTY-FOUR

Despite having a wide range in music taste, there's only a handful of bands that have really stuck with me through the years, getting me through the bad and helping me celebrate the good.

My top three of this handful are Nine Inch Nails, Tool, and Type O Negative.

A couple of days ago, I came across a comment section discussing Peter Steele's death. Something that was said, that was agreed with and emphasized on by multiple people, has been bothering me to my core since I read it.

Many people feel that Peter Steele would still be alive today had he "been with someone who gave a shit."

We might still have him around today "if he had someone who cared enough to get him to the hospital on time."

My heart sank and my stomach dropped after reading this. I immediately logged off. That didn't sit well with me at all.

I then tried looking it up. I felt discouraged and silly, giving up rather quickly. I thought I didn't know how or what, in specific, to search for anyway. I also thought there's a chance that it might not be true, that it's just talk, rumors, that kind of thing.

"Maybe people were just saying that because they don't like her. I have no clue!" Now I'm starting to question myself. I log back on to look for the comment section but everything refreshed and I didn't catch the name of the page that made the post.

True or untrue, the thought alone really fuckin disturbed me. I mean, it really did. He deserved someone to care for who he was outside of the celebrity. I hope to the Gods that those comments weren't true.

Peter Steele, aside from "musical genius" and "one of the most influential," was described to be kind, generous, helpful, supportive, inventive, and a hard worker.

When I'd see interviews with him on TV back in the day, and seeing interviews today when venturing around on YouTube, I found him to be very interesting, intelligent, and insightful. His dark humor was always fun too. And, of course, he was drop dead gorgeous. 🥰😌 The man was a living god, just saying.

Needless to mention the passion in the music he wrote and in the performances he gave (thank you TV and YouTube for letting me experience that by the way, I never got to see Type O Negative live).

He believed showing the world his heart would draw people to the band, and he was right. He said he wanted to be remembered as someone who helped people through hard times, and he is. It makes me sad to know he was sobered up, excited to make more music, and hopeful for the future just before his passing. Gut-wrenching when you think about it, and when you think about all the things he went through before that as well.

Being misunderstood, struggling with addiction, and the mental health issues involving Bipolar disorder, grief, depression, dealing with the aftermath of lockup, and feeling betrayed by his family. He also said himself he had huge problems with abandonment and loss, probably because he experienced those things more than we know.

In addition, being unlucky in love still blows my mind to this day. Especially knowing how he was worshipped by women all over this country, including me. How many of us out here would've worshipped the ground he walked on? And you mean to tell me some of the women that actually had a chance, screwed it up? Considering things like taking the breakups hard and being cheated on, he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, wasn't he? Some souls are just too good for this world, I swear. And his was one of them.

But that's what terrifies me... He was unlucky in love, so what if the comments are true? Literally makes me sick to think about, especially since the band, his childhood friends, tried to reach out to him when he was sick but was only able to speak with her. There's a dark aura all over that.

Someone please tell me it's a rumor, that he had a good woman at his side in those final days. Hearing about toxic exes shows where a person was lost and hurting, and he deserved better. He deserved peace and quiet and comfort. He deserved protection.

Men like this, regardless of how big and tall and strong they are, need to be protected. Their bodies are hard but their hearts are fragile. People that are kind-hearted will often suffer the most in life. The way he loved his women and the way he loved his animals showed he felt everything so, so deeply. He needed to be protected. Yes, men are biologically stronger than we women are, but they need us to protect them too, just in a different way.

My guess is that Peter's spirit is still with us, silently urging us all to never forget about Type O Negative. And we never will. RIP 💔

More thoughts later.

[toon-tales]

Alright, so, I noticed I'm not the only one who wants Velvet to apologize, because she's not that bad, alright?

She is NOT evil! She is just WILDELY MISUNDERSTOOD!

Anyway, I tried to handle her character, hope it came out well

Redemption arc

"What's with her?" Floyd asked, gesturing towards the green-haired girl slumped over the jail's wall.

Veneer looked at her and shrugged, smiling slightly. "It's nothing," he said simply. "She thinks orange isn't her color."

Viva and Poppy exchanged glances upon hearing Veneer's words, and they took a step closer, Viva clearing her throat to get some attention.

"I don't know who told you this, but orange looks fantastamazing on you."

Poppy nodded. "Yeah, it really suits you."

Velvet rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

Her twin sighed, then turned to the others with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about her, she's just feeling…off, you know?"

"It's alright, really," Floyd said. "She can be a lot sometimes."

"Hey." Veneer's voice came out as a whisper, his tone carrying a hint of warning only Branch seemed to notice, given the way he looked terrified from the former-pop star for a second, before he continued, his tone softer, "I know she can be a lot, but she's my sister, and I know her more than anybody else, so trust me when I tell you that she is sorry."

Floyd was speechless. Velvet? Sorry? Now, these two words never went together in one sentence, unless it was negative. He wouldn't lie, he didn't hate her, not entirely. Maybe he was just…mad? He didn't know for sure. He peeked behind Veneer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy's twin, and he did.

Velvet seemed distressed, to say the least. Her arms were crossed, and her finger tapped against her arm in a pattern he couldn't quite pick on, and he could swear she looked slightly guilty for a split second, before she finally noticed his gaze, and her expression shifted to annoyance.

"What are you looking at, Floyd?"

The red-haired troll froze. "N-Nothing!"

Did she just call him by his name?

"That's what I thought," Velvet replied coldly.

"So, how have you been, Veneer?" Branch interjected, sensing the air growing tense.

"Oh, yeah, everything's been good," Veneer replied, beaming. "The food is edible, we're not getting as much hate as we used to, and…i feel real."

"I'm really happy for you, Ven."

"Thanks, Flo."

"Wow," Branch said skeptically, not bothering to hide his smile. "Nicknames already?"

His older brother looked at him and ruffled his hair. However, Branch didn't shove his hands away, instead, he chuckled.

"I'll have you know, B, me and Veneer actually used to talk a lot during those two months."

"Yeah!" the boy nodded. "We talked about, like, everything!" He approached the glass barrier between him and the trolls, lowering his voice as he said, "Especially about Velvet's bad hairstyles."

Everyone burst into laughter, except, of course, the troubled Mount Rageon in the background, who just groaned, a clear sign of a soon-to-come breakdown.

Everyone seemed to have missed her distress. How could they notice? Why would they? It's not like they cared about her, did they? No, of course not. She wasn't the kindest person, she knew that, but she was sorry, as much as she hated to admit it. The more time she spent trapped between these walls, her freedom taken from her, made her realize just how cruel she was with the Pop troll.

She didn't mean it. Okay, maybe she did a little bit. But it did trouble her at times when she went to bed at the end of the day. People only saw her as the meanie, arrogant, spoiled girl ever since first grade. Thinking about it, she never had real friends, and neither did her brother, did they? So how did he turn out like this, when she turned out like…this? She was just being a good older sister. She just wanted Veneer to have friends, something she never grew up with, nor even knew how it felt.

All Velvet wanted was someone who can talk to her without being worried about her reactions. Someone who wouldn't judge her silly dances. Someone who would listen to her, understand her.

She looked up, and, she's been bossing that person around. She hasn't been the sister he deserves, yet he never stopped loving her. What did she do to deserve him? Nothing. And how did she repay him? She got them both in prison. Both of them.

"I'm sorry."

All heads turned towards Velvet.

"I'm sorry, alright?" she repated, unsure of what else to say. She turned to her brother, who nodded, encouraging her to go on.

"Look, Floyd," she started. "I know you'll probably never forgive me, and I don't blame you, but just know that I'm sorry, okay?"

The room went silent. Velvet was actually apologizing?

"It's okay-"

Velvet interrupted him, defending herself, "Besides, you should know how fame can make you do stupid things, you're famous."

Floyd looked at the trio behind him. Viva had a confused yet suspicious expression, Poppy had a 'I believe everyone can change' smile, while Branch seemed unsure of what to do.

The troll took a step forward, "I understand-"

But again, he was interrupted by the female twin. "I mean, don't tell me you didn't do anything stupid before."

Branch. That's the first thing that crossed Floyd's mind when the words escaped her lips. Stupid decisions. He was no new to the word. Branch had crossed his mind every. Single. Day. Yet he never showed up. He did do something stupid, something he couldn't forgive himself for doing, even if it seemed like the victim in this scenario was surprisingly welcoming, as if he's been waiting his entire life for this moment. And unknown to Floyd, he has.

"I'm not mad, Velvet," Floyd finally managed to say. "And…i really appreciate your apology."

Velvet shot a glance to her brother, whose smile widened as he gave her a thumbs up, mouthing a sincere 'I'm proud of you'.

"So, uh…where are the rest? John Dory? Spruce? Clay?" She asked hesitantly, trying to get the attention away from herself for a while.

Floyd smiled. "Oh, John Dory and Clay are in the book club, and Bruce is in Vacay Island."

"Bruce?"

"How do you know their names?" Branch cut in, his tone gentle and somehow demanding.

"I just do-"

"It's not like Floyd will just give our names," he pointed out, and his brother nodded.

Veneer leaned forward. "She's a big fan of Brozone!"

His twin's eyes widened. "I am not-"

"She knows all the songs!"

"She does?! We too!" the Pop sisters exclaimed in unison, jumping up and down.

"I do NOT-"

"We know, like, every song they've ever sung!" Viva said excitedly. "We have all of them!"

"We can throw a party when you guys get out!" Poppy added.

"And we'll get Brozone to sing!"

"And invite Brandy! And Bruce Jr.! And-"

"Poppy!" the dark-haired troll interjected gently, taking his girlfriend's hand in his.

Poppy took a deep breath, looked into her boyfriend's eyes, then turned to face the twins, saying softly, "We can't wait for you guys to get out."

"Yeah…whatever," Velvet stammered, struggling to hide the blush that painted her cheeks.

"Time's out!"

Veneer, Floyd, and the pink duo pouted, staring at the source of the sound with disappointment. It was time for another temporary goodbye, much to everyone's, silently including Velvet's, dismay. However, just as they were about to make their way out, the Putt-Putt trolls leader stopped in her tracks and rushed to Velvet, shoving an almost-microscopic piece of paper into her pocket without a word, before rejoining the others.

—------------

"What is that?" Veneer asked eagerly, reaching for the tiny piece of paper in his sister's hand.

She quickly crumbled it, trying to suppress a smile. "It's nothing!"

The boy chuckled. "If you say so, Vel,"

Velvet nudged him, returning the piece of paper back in her pocket.

—------------

'Dear Velvet, I didn't want to admit it back there but your hair looks so fantastamazing. Maybe we can have a sleepover when you're out? We'll spend the whole night braiding each other's hair. Can't wait to visit you again.

Love, Viva and Poppy'

[beacarrot]

Dirty Loves.

You say you're sorry,

But your songs aren't sadder than mine,

So what if they think it was just a short time?

There’s a scar, right in my sternum,

That I covered with ink, with a tatto on a night of excess,

A drunk night,

When I turned eighteen, that alone would be equally eternal, l'd think our love would be blessed,

I swear I see it in my mind,

Walking low, hiding your pride,

"You’re almost sick," you’d reply,

In a daydream behind the lies,

So tell your friends it’s all the same,

It’s winter, like every another game,

You walk past streetlights, nothing's changed,

With the soundtrack of bursts,

Your mind in self-sabotage mode announces a shooting at every step closer to me,

And that’s the issue with dirty loves...

The answering machine's gone silent,

No longer takes messages from my end of the state,

I wonder if it’s too late to repent?

Is it too early to let go for good?

They’re talking marriage, misunderstood,

Sipping bitter coffee, lost in the wind,

The altar, the veil,

"Forever I'll love you," written, but it's just a fucking pretend,

Yeah, maybe I should tie the knot,

Married,

But it’s not her, and that’s your the spot,

And you know what?

I wish it were her, it’d be less of a fight,

Love without having to blow out every candle,

To love you without dimming the light,

But I have irons in my fists and a gag between my teeth,

And I know I’ll still feel each of them being pulled out.

So grab the typewriter, write it down,

And write twenty pages of poems that would go to the bonfire if we were in 1842,

More ten that’d make us drown.

I’m here, naked, tell me true:

Does it hurt you like it hurts me?

I’m here, hopeless, burning slowly, trying to see,

Did fate always hate us both?

Did you never take the promised affection?

Did you never feel the love we had?

Blame the world, your problems, the gods above, but don’t make it bad.

So is it true, a tale poorly spun,

Is a tragedy delayed, and we’re done?

Cover me gently with the cloak of all your addictive lies,

I have a feeling you don’t care for all the precious stones I gave up for us...

Each price that only my side was willing to pay,

That only me bore,

You were scared, I had a passion about to overflow, and I wanted more,

And that’s the issue with dirty loves.

I can’t think straight, but I wish you well,

Be happy,

Just not happier than you were with me,

No like you were with me,

Go find someone,

Twist the knife,

Soften the blade, yeah, do it,

Break the cup into millions of pieces,

Let the glass cut my heart lethally,

Put that ring in her palm tonight,

I don’t hate her, but save a bite,

Save one of the fingers to honor me.

Yeah, I hope you’re happy, it’s bittersweet,

Even if it didn’t end as we’d meet.

I can’t let you go,

Can’t touch you now,

When I think I’m in control,

There’s always something coming,

I can’t forget you,

But what if I could?

I can’t forget, but what if I tried?

Rolling in lies, where dreams collide,

A lonely faith,

Your haunted departure,

My summer eyes, my spark that was only yours,

You’re the love of my life,

But I’m not yours...

The seat is cold, I look down low,

I can’t hang with friends,

They’re yours too,

It should be easy, just a little wall,

But every every narrowed gaze, feels like a fall,

Every crossed word, every unspoken comment,

I stopped everything just to carry on,

I paused to read what’s left behind,

But I read the lyrics kept in the "unfinished songs" folder,

Lyrics in one more folder, twisted and blind,

We knew they’d never be decoded,

Memories captured, love eroded,

The old times,

I wander the city, trying to mend,

Waiting for dust to settle just to throw myself onto it again,

Losing my mind, but never finding my soul,

The one you kidnapped just for yourself,

When you still had me in your palm,

Over every crooked line of your hand.

What was I supposed to do?

Can you fix things when all you see are cracks?

Next year, will you wish me happy birthday?

Will you even care?

How can you forget how we almost had it all?

Every silent "I love you"...

How can you not miss me still?

How can you not recall the thrill?

How do you not miss St. Ermin's Hotel?

My view under the lights of room 1428,

How that eager boy,

Turned into such a cowardly man?

How didn’t you leave me a trace?

Now I’m exposed, not ready to face,

And the feathers that covered our Achilles' heels?

Now I’m back, open for any backstab,

What will I do with that note so cruel?

You loved me first,

But I loved you more,

You fell for me, swearing until your death,

But it was me who fell harder,

And that’s my view,

I’ll still see this until the day I die,

I’ll carry this weight till my last breath,

And when each heartbeat fades away, and there’ll be no regret,

I gave you my all, still think it’s slight,

I killed my ego, and still think not everything was buried,

As if somewhere inside me this isn’t completely finished,

So I look at this writing,

And I can’t get out of bed,

Because now something is dead...

I’m dirty,

You’re dirty,

And all we are together is a dirty affair,

It’s true,

We’re just a case of blue,

And green maybe,

A dirty love,

And that’s the issue with dirty loves.

(This poem is not about me, not even close. It is about people I know from afar, from a beautiful, sad, confusing and never 100% confirmed story. Putting myself in the point of view of a narrator who tells his feelings in the first person that is not me was exciting and challenging. It was like imagining the situation that was given and the "characters" and thinking "What would he say about this situation?". And to be honest, I was even impressed with the result.)

Signed: Beatriz Ranzonni 🩵.