#did i just wrote that much on the labyrinth

[soobnny]

labyrinth — lee minho.

trope. best friends to lovers. college au. slow burn. angst. fluff. a story on second loves.

synopsis. sometimes, the path towards healing involves not only mending your heart but trusting in the love of those who have been there all along, or alternatively, in which lee minho teaches you to love again

word count. 20k words

warnings. drinking, mentions of vomiting, curse words, intoxication, the aftermaths of heartbreak, not feeling good enough

note. hello it’s me again! have this semi self-indulgent lee know fic i wrote

one.

When Mark breaks your heart in the first weeks of summer, Minho doesn’t say “I told you so”. Instead, he becomes your gentle refuge, sitting still and letting you cry on his shoulder. 

He’s careful to touch you, doesn’t want to shake you out of the pretense of composure you’ve built for yourself. Though, it only takes a brush of his hand before the inevitable scrunch of your face that follows into a sob. His hands pull your waist closer, running soothing circles down your back.

You bruise yourself for your naivety. 

In the tapestry of first loves, it’s easy to be bound to the intoxicating notion that he will be all you’ll ever know. When you fall, you think it’ll last forever. The memory of him emerges from around you, slipping in like sand through your feet. Most of it passes quickly, but some moments sink on your skin, desperately pulling you down and forcing everything down your throat—–the sound of ocean waves bathing the seashore when he held your hand, barefoot and laughing, the birds singing from outside the window as you spend the morning in, the scent of coffee in the morning, the sound of laughter in grocery stores, and the feeling of rain dripping down your clothes as you run for the night train where you tell each other everything. 

How are you supposed to forget pieces of him you’ve cemented in your heart? 

Loss is too terrible to grasp at once, especially when unexpected. Especially when you had thought the world of him only to have your heart shattered. 

Pain only stems from the comfort of memories. It snags on you, clinging onto you and reminding you that they will just be memories now. You will only remember him now, remember falling in love over and over again, remember your first kiss and every single one after. You will only remember how he looked at you, with so much love in his eyes, you thought you would last an eternity. 

“I’m going to kill him.” Minho’s voice is soft despite the connotation behind his words. He has his arms firm around you, bringing one hand to pat your hair down. 

“You don’t even know what he did.” You mumble, voice coming out shaky and incoherent from sobbing the past few hours. There’s snot running down your nose and staining his shirt, and your prickling tears still haven’t stopped. His favorite shirt is soaked, but he couldn’t be less bothered.

“He—,” Your best friend pauses, taking a deep breath in. It’s something he does when he tries to recompose himself. “He made you cry.” He breathes out, taking the back of your head and pushing it further into his chest. He doesn’t think he can bear the sight of your tear-stained eyes, doesn’t think he can handle the quiver in your lips. 

“Maybe I just wasn’t good enough. If I was prettier–” 

The words sound practiced in your lips, slipping far too easily that it breaks Minho’s heart to think it must’ve been something weighing in your mind for a while now. He shakes his head rather fervently, carefully peeling your head back from the crook of his neck so your eyes meet.

“I don’t want you to finish that sentence.” His thumb swipes at the tears falling from your eyes, and while Minho hadn’t had the time to switch on the living room lights when you had knocked on his door at close to midnight, you can still see anger swimming in his eyes. You know it isn’t directed to you, know that he’s trying his best to subdue his rage and not drive and crash into Mark’s house right now. 

“He’s going to hell for even letting that thought run through that little head of yours. There’s already barely anything in there, and he dares plant something so painfully untrue?” You notice his lips are twitching in effort of a teasing smile.

Despite the unbearable pain, you can’t help but laugh at your best friend’s words, even though it comes out sounding more like a sob. “My head has a few things in there.” You manage to croak out, and Minho pockets the accomplishment of making you laugh to think about later. 

“Of course, of course. Definitely not differential calculus, but there are a few things in there.” His eyes are soft when he speaks. “One of them is that you’re enough, and it’s that fucker’s loss for letting you go. Want to hear you say it.”

He follows along with you, accompanying you with every word. “I’m good enough.” He nods his head, urging you to continue speaking. “And?” 

“And it’s that fucker’s loss for letting me go.” You almost cry when you say it.

“There you go.” 

Minho pulls you back in his arms, wrapping you in his scent and the entirety of his comfort. He says nothing, only listens to your heavy inhale and exhale. You’ve never been here before, never felt this pain before so he lets you feel your emotions. It’s an ache that doesn’t need to be taught, but is inevitable to learn. 

“Thank you, Min.” Your voice wavers, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m…” An apology sits on your tongue, but you know your best friend won’t let you. He’s picked you up multiple times before–failed tests, college admissions, family arguments, and never once has he let you apologize for crying. “Thank you.” You say through the clatter of your teeth. 

He doesn’t say anything, only squeezes you in his arms. It’s two in the morning now, and Minho can hear your quiet snoring. It’s prominent, sitting louder than the few honks of cars outside. You must’ve barely gotten any rest these past few days. 

Your face is still wet when he lays you down on his bed, pulling his covers over you and letting it fall just by your chin. Minho falls asleep on his small, run-down couch. 

two.

The process of disentangling Mark from you is a lot harder than you thought it would be. The first time you cross off his favorite candy and brand of milk from your shopping list, you sobbed for two straight hours. At one point, when Minho was accompanying you, you had started crying in front of the sweets section and he’d had to whisk you away embarrassingly and calm you down in his car. 

Since the break up three weeks ago, you’ve refrained from doing anything that remotely reminded you of him. For one, you’ve stopped wearing his favorite hoodie, the one tucked away at the back of your closet. You don’t know how to return it to him yet. It’d be too hard to face him when you can barely hold yourself together even by just the sight of it. You stopped viewing his Instagram stories, after making the same mistake a week ago. Minho has told you to block him, but it’s too big of a step to take right away. 

Though, you think the most painful was seeing Juyeon on your way to class. You don’t know whether to greet him or not. He was Mark’s friend over yours, but you’d like to think you’d gotten along quite well to consider him a friend. Though, it seems too much of an overstep towards the boundaries created when Mark had called it quits. His friends will take his side on the breakup, and your friends will take yours. It’s no longer a shared “our” friends. It's just yours or his now. 

The realization stings so badly that it physically hurts you, and what starts as stabs of pain evolves to a dull ache. You crave for the time to come where days without him would feel far, especially when you can’t sit still at this stupid restaurant without recalling your second date and how you’d spent everyday thinking forever of him.

“(Name)? You okay?” Felix’s voice is piercing, reverberating through your thoughts. 

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, sorry.” You swallow, propping your elbows on the table and leaning forward to seem more present. 

“You spaced out a little bit.” He laughs, taking a sip out of his service water. “Is it cause you miss Mark? I know you had one of your dates here.” His voice is teasing, and you shiver a little at the mention of your ex-boyfriend. 

Minho shifts in his seat, scooting a little closer and ghosting a hand behind your chair. He’s looking at you now, unrecognizable expression on his face as he waits for your response. He hadn’t told any of your friends, kept his promise when you had asked him, but he doesn’t like the way you’re cornered into a response. 

“Oh…” You blink, eyes scanning each person from the table before dropping down to your glass of water. “We— we broke up actually.” You swallow again, taking the glass but not quite bringing it up to your lips. 

There’s a recollection of Mark sitting adjacent to you, his voice sodden and repeating. And you don’t like all the eyes frozen on you as you share the pathetic end of a relationship you thought would be everlasting. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Felix feels guilty, voice growing smaller and smaller with every word. You’re quick to reassure. 

“It’s okay. It happens.” You shrug, even though it’s not okay. Even though it wasn’t supposed to happen to you. You were supposed to be an exception to fate's horrible hands. 

Everyone’s eyes buzz, and you know they’re thinking of it. You bite your lip, eyes searching for Minho’s in desperation. For a barrier. For someone to break the pity dripping from everyone’s features. It makes you feel small. 

Minho’s head peps up, smile pulling on his lips as he suddenly claps his hands. “Hyunjin-ah, do you remember the last time we were here?” 

“Why are we suddenly having this conversation?” His friend groans in embarrassment, but rides on the conversation anyway.

Hyunjin pretends not to remember even though he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the shame of mispronouncing the names of the dishes while you, Minho, and Jisung were stifling in your laughter. You’d almost forgotten the way you laughed until your stomachs hurt when the waitress finally walked away after a cruel 15 minutes of asking Hyunjin to repeat himself. 

“The one I ordered was pretty good though. I have a pretty good eye for food.” Jisung joins in on the conversation, heart clenching at the way you quietly retreat in your seat. He’s always had a soft spot for you. 

“Yeah, sure, you have eyes, I guess.” Minho replies without hesitation, which has Jisung dropping his mouth and staring at the boy in disbelief. “Excuse me?” 

Laughter falls in laughter as everyone stares between the two, who are bickering back and forth. You turn to them with a smile on your face, grateful to break away from the impending conversation about Mark. The attention is elsewhere now, and you feel like you can finally breathe properly.

“As if you didn’t order something horrendous too. It was a silly time.” Minho leans towards you with challenging eyes at your input in the conversation. It’s abrupt, the way he suddenly twists his body so he’s facing you, and so Minho-like.  

“You had fun.” He points at you. “You had so much fun. You had fun.” 

“Okay, okay, damn. You’re being really aggressive right now.” You laugh a little, falling back in your seat and pushing his pointing hand away.

“We enjoyed ourselves.” He says one more time as a matter-of-fact, just as the food arrives. The conversation takes a short pause as hunger hits, long arms reaching out to grab as much food as they can on their plates. 

Jisung stares at the variety of dishes, mouth watering as he holds a critical stare–as if he’s about to make life-altering decisions with the food he chooses. There’s everything you could name, variants of chicken and beef and noodles and seafood all plastered on the table. You quietly take a few portions when it looks like no one’s going for the same serving spoon. 

“Oh, oh, yes, try that (Name). I tried it a while back, and it’s so good.” He waves his spoon around, eyes lighting up at your choice and you laugh at the way everyone moves away from the table to avoid getting hit by the splattering sauce. 

Jisung only stops holding you hostage when Chan moves to distract him.

By the time you fill up your plate, Minho is already digging into his food, chewing diligently with furrowed eyebrows. The steak he ordered for himself looks good, and a smirk forms when he senses your prying eyes. He plays dumb, like he always does, slicing the meat in an annoyingly slow pace before sticking his fork into it. 

“Your order looks good.” Your smile is nothing but innocent as you stare at his fork without shame. He mirrors your grin, sly as he picks up his fork. 

“I thought you said the food I ordered was horrendous.” He interrupts, lifting up the slice of meat and waving it around cartoonishly. He is so annoying with his rolled up sleeves and his hooded eyes. 

“That was before. I’ve changed!” 

“No.”

You pout, stuffing a piece of fish in your mouth at failing to coax Minho into sharing his food. All efforts against Minho always end in vain, but you’ve always held pride in the way he takes a second longer to reject you. You’re just about to twist some noodles in your chopsticks, terribly hunched over posture, when a fork is shoved in front of your face.

Minho doesn’t say a word as he waits for you to eat the slice of steak, free hand hovering just under your chin in case the food falls. Your eyes fall on his, horribly failing to hide the smile on your face as you lean forward to bite the meat off. 

“Oh, it’s so good.” You huff, chewing carefully with widened eyes. It’s a close second to the steak Seungmin and Minho cooked for you on your birthday last year.

Though, it’s only taking the Number 1 spot because the criterion was solely based on who made it, and how they took time out of their day to cook one of your favorite meals for you. The taste of the steak in this restaurant wins by a landslide, but you don’t think they can replicate the love put into your birthday steak. 

Minho makes that face exclusive to his friends when he wants to put up mock annoyance at being forced to do something out of his will, like sharing his food, yet everyone’s accustomed to his cold exterior. 

“Have you ever—” Jisung starts after your table becomes a victim of silence, stuffing his mouth with a few chips. He doesn’t finish his thought, though, reaching out for Hyunjin’s glass of water after having finished his before the food was even served.

“What?” Changbin asks the question brewing on everyone’s throats.

“Nevermind. I’m gonna keep it to myself because you guys are gonna say it’s gross.” 

The ongoing conversation falls deaf in your ears. You hate to admit you were too busy weighing your options on whether you should have shrimp or not. It takes you a feverishly long time to peel them, and everyone might as well have finished their meals before you can make it to five shrimps. But the sight makes your mouth water, and you’re stuck at a crossroad. Maybe Jisung was onto something when he had stared at the food earlier, as if it was the most important decision in his life.

“Woah, woah, woah. I peed on a tree recently if that makes you feel any better.” Jeongin says without a stutter in his sentence, and everyone pauses from their meals. “Now, what was that gross thing you wanted to talk about?” He nudges Jisung’s shoulder.

“....Have you ever wondered if there’s snot flavored chips?” 

“Jisung!” Chan chastises as everyone else shares judging stares. Hyunjin is having a hard time holding his laughter, and Changbin almost spits his water out. Minho is too busy peeling his shrimps to give the conversation the time of day.

“We shouldn’t have allowed you to talk in the first place.” Seungmin grimaces.

You’re too immersed in still deciding whether you should eat shrimps or not to notice Minho transferring the seafood he had peeled on your plate. He doesn’t say anything when he reaches for your plate, doesn’t even look at you when you glance at him. Instead, he resumes eating and listens quietly to the ridiculous conversation from his friends. 

“This is why I didn’t wanna say it!” 

“Yeah, you definitely should’ve kept that to yourself.”

The breach of silence from Jisung doesn’t last long as the noise quiets down into chewing and Minho’s quiet yet persistent “eat more” when he sees small portions on your plate. He knows you haven’t been having the appetite to eat lately, but he still makes sure you’re at least intaking a healthy amount to sustain your body. 

An hour and a half later, you find yourself in the passenger seat of Minho’s car as he drives you home. He lets you connect to the Bluetooth, lets you control the music despite preferring to drive in silence. Though, he’s ill-prepared for you to actually start singing.

“You are an expert at sorry and keeping lines blurry, never impressed by me acing your tests—”

Minho groans, briefly gazing in your direction before keeping his eyes on the road. A half second is enough to see you moping with your head leaned against his window. 

“All the girls that you’ve run dry have tired lifeless eyes cause you burned them out.”

“When I gave you control over the music, I didn’t expect you to start playing Taylor Swift.” He shoots you another glance, one hand on the steering wheel and the other just behind your headrest. He’s giving you a judging look, as if he hadn’t blasted Adele when he had his first heartbreak years ago. 

“Deal with it.” You stick your tongue out childishly before turning to your mini karaoke session. “Don't you think I was too young to be messed with? The girl in the dress, cried the whole way home—”

It takes four more songs from your Spotify playlist titled Taylor Swift but you’re heartbroken before Minho’s finally pulling up to the front of your dorm building. You know he’s so fucking done with you, with his eyes closed and head rolled back as he waits for you to finish sulking. He doesn’t kick you out of his car, though. He only crosses his arms with his lips pressed into a bored line until you’ve decided you’re done singing for the night. 

You don’t think you can take the quiet. Without music blasting in your ears, you’re confronted by a suffocating silence. There is no relief when you see how the night sky looks so peaceful outside his car window because why can the night sky bask in calmness while you have to sit there in this excruciating hurt? 

So, you stay there for another two songs. You are too fragile to be nudged right now, and Minho doesn’t think it’s an appropriate time to confront you about the band-aid you’ve stuck to temporarily keep your heart together. 

three.

Time doesn’t stop for your grieving. Everyday, the same sun will mockingly look down at you, reminding you that days would go on without you. That despite the squeezing pain in your sternum, time will not stop for your hurt. People will go on about their days unknowing of your suffering. 

Ironically, while time stops for no one, it does move excruciatingly slow. When you’re in love, time passes by you so quickly that you don’t know it’s the last time. You’re never given a warning. Endings are always so sudden that it makes no sense. When love unclasps its grip from you, days and nights drag on longer, stretching out the pain. There is nothing to do but rot over your break. 

The past two months have felt like a year. It’s strange how one moment you could be in the middle of clinging onto your lover’s hand, and the next it all feels like a very long time ago, and none of it is ever coming back. How are you supposed to cope with the loss of someone you know too much about as life continues to progress around you?

You don’t understand how you’re supposed to endure this. There is nothing to do but to stare at your ceiling until you feel horrible about yourself. 

You’re curled up on your bed like the day before, and the day before that, when the sound of your door opening jolts you awake. Though, Minho’s voice is quick to reassure that a stranger hadn’t broken into your dorm. You didn’t know he was back from his parent’s house. He had even invited you, a few days ago, telling you a change of scenery might do you good but you were pretty adamant on crying through your hurt in your dorm room alone.

“I’m walking into your bedroom. You better not be naked.” Your best friend announces before his familiar silhouette emerges from the dark of your make-do living room. He has his arms folded across his chest as he leans against your doorframe. 

“What do you want?” 

“You’re coming with me to do groceries.” He speaks with vindication, pacing inside your room in search of something for you to wear in your closet. 

“I don’t want to.”

He throws a hoodie to your face, standing by the edge of your bed expectantly. You thrash around for a few seconds, mostly for dramatism, before stubbornly sitting up to wear the hoodie he had thrown at you. “What do I even get out of this? Just let me suffer in peace.”

“Vitamin D.” He’s still hovering. “Your bones are gonna break if you don’t see the sun, and we promised we’d race each other when we’re eighty.”

Your heart rises to your throat at the recollection of when you were seventeen and unaware of what the future would hold for the both of you. It had been some stupid agreement you’d come up with when you had snuck a bottle of soju into Minho’s parent’s house. Perhaps it was the excitement from drinking for the first time or the numbness from losing your grandparent just a few weeks ago, but the alcohol had made you cry. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else, not your parents, not your friends, not Minho. The introduction to loss was so overwhelming, and you hated how permanent it was. In an attempt to make you smile again, Minho had promised to buy you a house if you could outrace him when you’re both eighty and frail. Prideful and under the influence, you accepted.

“I’m getting that house.” You say with a lazy grit, unmoving from your spot. He laughs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, dragging you out of your bed. 

“I’m not gonna go easy on you even if you’re old and wrinkly. Now, hurry up. I’ll cook for you if we get back before 4pm.”

“Seafood pasta and steak?” Your eyes light up for the first time today, and Minho lets out a long sigh at your request. 

“Yeah, whatever.” He scrunches his face. 

“And you’ll make it spicy?”

“Hurry up before I take it back and let you starve.” Minho takes his leave, turning his back around heading for your front door as you make it out of your bed in record time. You hate to admit that it’s the first time you’re leaving your house in days. And while you were planning to spend the rest of the break like this, Minho’s temporary accompaniment and the meal awaiting you is very much appreciated. Otherwise, you would’ve let your limited supply of cup noodles suffice and seafood pasta outweighs instant noodles by a mile. 

The trip to the grocery store is short, but it’s enough to play a song and a half. When you arrive, Minho makes a beeline to the frozen section to restock on his pudding. You sigh, bowing your head faintly and following the bunny boy. 

You have to admit, the lighting from the lined up refrigerators does well in making Minho look adorable with his pink nose and a smile that frames his two front teeth. It’s a shame he only ever directs this look to his cats and oddly enough, pudding. 

He throws a few cups in his shopping cart before moving along to another aisle. You match your footsteps with his, walking next to him as he pushes the cart along. The grocery store is dangerous. There are ways to find Mark everywhere. So, you look anywhere but aisles–the ground, Minho’s back, his cart. Anything but his favorite candy and the brand of milk he uses. 

“Want anything?” You look up at your best friend, and he looks at you with pointed eyes before gesturing towards the bags of junk food lining up. 

“I thought you said this was unhealthy for me?” It’s with incredulousness that you look at him. 

“Do you want me to take back my offer?” 

Smiling sheepishly, you reach out to grab a few bags of popcorn and some honey butter chips before adding it to the pile you hadn’t even noticed. It seems he’s gone through half of his grocery list as you stared aimlessly at the ground. 

He tells you to stay there and have a look around if you want anything else, and by the time he comes back, he has two cartons of milk in his arms that he places in his cart. 

You skip past the dairy and sweets section as Minho finishes up. 

“I’m gonna have a piece of chocolate as a treat. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it.” 

“You’re giving yourself a piece of chocolate?” Minho asks, pulling you back by your wrist to stop you from wandering around. 

“Yeah, I think I earned it for leaving my dorm today. I think I earned it.”

“No, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You ask defensively. “I don’t understand.” 

“Not good enough reasoning.”

“Oh, but I worked so hard today. I feel like I really earned it.”

Betrayal seeps through your features as you head towards the cashier, and your shoulders sag in defeat as you begrudgingly help place the contents of your cart on the counter so it’s easier for the cashier to scan. Though, as Minho runs to grab an ingredient he’d forgotten for the meal he had promised you, you notice a box of chocolates tucked under his other arm as he returns. The price of the chocolate is added to his total bill, and he doesn’t look at you as he puts it in the shopping bag with your chips and popcorn.

Minho drives you back to your dorm, and you busy yourself with putting his frozen goods in your refrigerator so it doesn’t melt while he cooks. He can take it out later when he goes back to his dorm. 

You admit to being a little useless in the kitchen, so you sit still as Minho shuffles through the ingredients. He looks mesmerizing, save for the Hello Kitty apron too small for him that he had borrowed from you. It does add to his charm though as he moves around like he takes up the whole space of the kitchen. You can tell he’s used to this by the way he moves and the way he uses a knife. He looks focused, radiating. He always has this look on his face when he’s concentrated, plush mouth parted a little with furrowed eyebrows. You’d teased him about it once. 

It’s habit the way he cooks, the way his hand shapes around the knife, the way he chops vegetables and measures in a heartbeat. And it’s pattern that he checks on you once in a while, eyes traveling from the boiling pasta towards where you’re seated on the kitchen counter. From time to time, he walks towards you with a wooden spoon, hand habitually falling under your chin so the sauce doesn’t drip. 

Minho hums in satisfaction when you make a noise of approval, eyes widening as you nod your head with fervor. He turns away, licking his lips as he returns to finishing up his cooking. The sizzling of the pan, the bowl of the water, and your quiet humming is the sound of his heart right now, and he smiles to himself at the visible peace of being in the kitchen. He doesn’t have much time to cook these days. 

It takes almost an hour for him to finish, but it doesn’t feel that way. Unlike the past two months, time moved at a hare’s pace just in this moment, with Minho presently on your heels as he sets the plates down on your dining table. 

“Min, this is so good.” You note at how good the sauce tastes, and how the spice ties everything in. The way Minho prepares food is nothing like the ones you eat at restaurants. It’s better.

“I know. I’m the one who made it.” His response almost makes you scoff if not for the fact that he’s feeding you right now. So, you stay silent as you eat. Piece by piece, bite by bite, that you almost forget the last time you’ve sat on your dining table. 

You prefer to eat your meals anywhere but—the couch, your bedroom, the kitchen floor. The last memory leaves a bitter recollection on your throat. Dinner used to almost always be with Mark. He’d bring takeout and you’d spend the rest of the night updating each other on your days. Then, those nights became sparse and you were left with Facetime calls until they were nothing at all. There’s still a space for his shoes by your doorway, and you have yet to throw away the spare toothbrush he kept in your bathroom. There’s fragments of him in your dorm, and you hate it. 

The past hangs a heavy air around you that you don’t realize the gutted look of heartbreak on your face and the tears slipping past your eyes until you move to wipe them on instinct. You don’t know if it’s the chili oil on your fingertips or the sudden trip down memory lane, but you start to cry even more as you stuff your face with seafood pasta. 

“Is it too spicy?” Minho gently leaves his spot adjacent to you, puts his utensils down in favor of standing by your side. “You okay?” 

He laughs when a choked ‘yes’ leaves your lips before you’re stuffing even more pasta down, chewing animatedly as you try to blink the tears away. Though, when you make a move to rub your eyes, Minho is quick to grab them, pushing your arms away from your face. 

“Be careful. It’s gonna sting even more.” Pulling down the sleeves of his hoodie, he carefully uses the fabric to wipe the tears off your cheeks. He’s gentle with his movements, consciously mirroring your gutted, frowning look in his usual teasing. It makes you laugh, dropping your hands to your sides before suddenly letting out another sob. 

It’s a funny sight, seeing you laugh and cry at the same time and Minho can’t stop the periodic chuckles that escape his lips as you whine out for him to stop laughing at you. It only makes him laugh harder, patting down his sleeves on your eyes. 

“Do you want to keep eating?” His tone is significantly softer when your tears finally subside. “Do you want to finish it later?”

“Keep eating.” You mumble.

“Keep eating? Okay.” Disappearing to the kitchen, he hands you the glass of water, and takes your hand in his to start wiping away the chili sauce from your fingers with a tissue. It’s only when you finish gulping down the water does he return to the seat across from you.

“You’re babying me.” You sniffle, staring down at your food before twirling some noodles into your fork. 

“Because you’re a baby. Stop pouting.” His lips curve into a smirk. “Want some more steak?”

You grumble, and Minho rolls his eyes as he takes the steak he had sliced for himself and transfers it on your plate. “Come on, eat up. I didn’t waste my time cooking for you not to finish my food.” 

“Thank you.” He brushes you off, though, it’s with a small smile on his face. 

“Do you think you can stay here tonight?” You ask in small. Under normal circumstances, he would have called you clingy. It’s the answer you’re waiting to hear when the question slips out of your mouth. You don’t expect him to just hum, answering, “okay”. 

There’s a short pause after his response.

“But only because I know you’ll spend the night crying if I’m not here, and you look stupid when you cry.” It’s his own way of telling you to stop crying. Though, you still sigh for show.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“What, what?” He acts oblivious, and when his eyes blinks, it’s almost caricature. 

“I just love this.” Sarcasm drips heavy, but your heart flutters anyways. You don’t remember the last time you’ve smiled like this, so much that your cheeks start to hurt even if you’d just finished crying. 

“Right!” He grins.

Minho cares in ways that others don’t recognize. You can only see it when you pay attention, can only hear the quiet and gentle underlie in his words. He’s loud with his teasing, but he doesn’t need words for you to know he cares. 

It’s nice to be cared for.

four.

Autumn sends a harsh breeze as it takes over Summer without much of a warning. It marks a shed of the things that had transpired over the previous season, almost a big red button labeled restart. You have every intention to use it well, to usher in change alongside the changing color of the leaves. 

But what kind of heart doesn’t look back?

You wonder, do the leaves hang on tightly to not fall? Do they beg the trees not to let them go, to stay a little longer?

You sigh. The cycle is neverending, and you’ll have to spend the next seasons without Mark. 

“Are you even listening to me?” You’re tugged back to your body at the sudden breach.

Minho’s voice is whiny, plush lips pulled in a pout at having caught you spacing out while he was mid-story. He had made an effort to be especially animate with his story, after numerous previous complaints from you that he was a boring storyteller, only for you not to listen.

“I am, I am!” You’re nowhere near convincing as you defend yourself, trying to recall the last words you had heard from him before you had lost yourself to your thoughts. Something about Jisung and fruit punch? You’re not quite sure. 

It was a horrible idea to try and balance your best friend’s stories with your own thoughts, letting the former slip so easily. Now you’re being called out for it.

“Then what did I just say?” 

“That… you want to buy me coffee?” You ask with a sheepish smile, head tilted slightly to mimic a feigned innocence. 

Minho’s lips press into a line in response.

“I’m sorry!” You apologize almost immediately.

It’s funny the way you give up your act right away, pressing your palms together as if begging the boy to forgive you for your inability to listen to him. You were technically listening, synching your movements with his and staring at the way the words rolled out of his mouth. It wasn’t your fault they had fallen short before reaching your ears. 

“You just lost a point on my friend tier list.” He walks a little ahead of you now, refusing to match your pace in the name of dramatism. 

“You have a friend tier list?” You snort. “That’s kind of lame.” 

“Did you just call it lame? At this point, you’re at bottom place with Kim Seungmin.” 

Your reaction is funny despite shitting on his tier list: mouth dropping, eyes boring on his back as you struggle to keep up with his long limbs, hurrying to catch up to him. 

“Okay, now you’re taking it too far. First of all, I do not bite you so that should nudge me up a spot.”

“If you say it nicely, maybe I will.” 

You know he’s messing around when he starts to slow down his pace, waiting for you to reappear beside him before resuming his walk. 

“No, but seriously, what were you saying?” There’s laughter laced in your voice, elbowing Minho gently to coax him into repeating what he had said earlier.

“I asked if you were going to Jisung’s party later.” 

Minho notes the way your face visibly scrunches at the thought. As if it wasn’t enough, you pair it with a shake of your head. 

“Absolutely not. I hate the taste of alcohol.” You pause, head snapping towards him before adding, “Why? Are you going?” 

His eyes don’t hide his disinterest, narrowing in judgment as you ask him. 

“No. We have a 9am class tomorrow.” He mutters. 

You begin to laugh, always amused by the way your best friend expresses himself, but then you stop. It wasn’t immediately made clear to Minho why your demeanor had suddenly shifted so hastily, as if someone had forcefully switched it, and why your eyes were suddenly glazed. The cogs only stop when he follows your line of sight after having noticed it was drawn somewhere behind him. 

Mark’s butterfly tattoo isn’t hard to miss. It’s so potently his that you vaguely register his hand holding someone else’s. Someone that wasn’t you.

She looks beautiful, so radiant that it almost blinds you. She looks like she has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t feel that horrible for hoping she’d break his heart the way he did yours. Though, anger is temporary when pain starts to sift through—especially when Mark is looking at her with the same sparkle in his eyes when he used to look at you. 

You try to make the hurt look calculated, the way you will your eyes to draw away, the way you purse your lips. Perhaps you were trying to convince yourself that you were over it, that you were emotionally mature. And while it is half true, there is still pain. No one teaches you how to deal with this. There is no guidebook to tell you what to do when you see your ex with someone else only months after he had called it quits. 

It is difficult to look at them without breaking.

A haunting silence settles, before Minho’s scrambling to break it.

“Ah, let’s go. I’m suddenly hungry.” 

Minho watches as your shoulders slump in relief when he speaks, turning away from Mark in favor of looking at him. “And my legs are getting tired from standing around. Come on.” 

It’s meant to be teasing, but you do not miss the anger in his eyes. It’s always painstakingly obvious when Minho is angry. He didn’t say painful words, never did anything hastily, but his eyes would always tell you he’s angry. They have a look to them, and when they were glassy, you’d know he was angry. 

There’s a tap on the back of your hand before he takes it in his, pulling you away from the scene of the crime. It makes your whole face look up at him, and your heart softens when he offers a small smile. It does something inside of you. 

“Have you eaten anything since lunch?”

You only shake your head in response.

Minho doesn’t say anything at the sudden drop of your mood, though he doesn’t find any pleasure in seeing your attitude change so quickly. He just squeezes your hand in his. And you’re sure you’re imagining the way he intertwines your fingers because your best friend hates skinship. Lee Minho is always so repulsed when you attempt to take his hand, so why is his hand on yours? 

“Don’t think I care about you or anything, but let’s get something to eat first? You know, before we meet up with the guys.” 

You hum in compliance, and also because you know he’s teasing you. His hand feels warm. 

It’s silent for a while, save for distant honks and the echo of your footsteps. Soft, blinking eyes look down at you when you finally make it to the small food stall, tugging on your hand to get your full attention. 

“Come on, get whatever you want.” You lean forward, tilting your head to look at your options.  “I’m not doing this again, by the way.” He jokes, looking down at you. 

Minho doesn’t eat despite being the one who had said he was hungry. Instead, he hovers next to you, hands in his pockets as you quietly eat your food.

“Are you full?” His voice softens when he speaks. 

“A little.” You mumble.

“Okay, now go pay for what you got.” There’s a smug smile on his face when you glare at him, and he only laughs at you when you pull out your wallet from your bag.

“You dragged me to eat here because you’re hungry, and you’re letting me pay.” Your feet hold your ground, flipping through the compartments on your wallet before pulling out a bill—for your pride, more than anything else. 

“Of course! What kind of best friend would I be if I paid? I need to teach you independence.” 

You scoff. “A good best friend.”

Minho is looking at you up and down as you stretch your hand towards the man to pay for your food, mapping out how he can remember this moment. 

“Ah, miss. Your boyfriend already paid.” 

“Huh?”

There’s laughter from behind you, and you humiliatingly turn back around and shove your wallet in your bag before slapping Minho’s arm. He flinches, but his laughter doesn’t stop. 

“Thanks for paying, I guess.” You mumble, heavy footsteps walking ahead of him the way he did with you earlier. It’s touching, really, and there was a nudge in your heart when the man had told you Minho had already paid. Your best friend’s laugh is too maniacal to ignore, though, so your slap is well deserved.

Kim Seungmin’s face is nothing but irritated when you and Minho finally show up to your meeting spot, hand lifting and pointing an accusing finger at the pair of you for being late. The rest of the boys except Jisung and Jeongin are all sprawled on the empty parking lot’s concrete floor, and you can hear a faint mumble from Minho–something about how the ground was dirty for them to be sitting on it. You sort of agree, already cringing at the thought of rubble sticking to your clothes and the prospect of dusting them away. 

“They’re finally here!” Seungmin puts an emphasis on the word ‘finally’, and he’s about to berate you even more when he spots the skewer in your hand. “You guys ate without us?” 

It’s so loud and relenting, but Seungmin’s by your side in a second and opening his mouth for you to feed him the remaining of the food Minho had bought you earlier. You suppose you owe him this much for delaying their wait. You know Seungmin’s not very known for his patience. 

“We’re all going to Jisung’s party, right?” Chan finds himself asking, head perked up as he plays with his car keys between his fingers. 

Seungmin mumbles something incoherent, still glued to your side and still stealing your food. When he moves to grab the stick from you, Minho slaps his hand and tells the boy to leave you and your food alone. It’s like a scene straight out of a sitcom, and all you have to do is stare at the non-existent camera directed at the three of you.

“I don’t think (name) and Minho are?” You hum in confirmation at Felix’s response, spotting him get up from his place on the ground. He asks Hyunjin to dust off the specs of concrete sticking to the fabric of his pants. 

“What?” Changbin’s voice is loud, in contrast to the sooth of Felix’s, and he looks his squinted eyes with yours—as if you had wronged him for not going to the party. “Why not?”

Though, the thought of drinking doesn’t seem all that horrible to you anymore. You refuse to acknowledge it might be because of what you had bore witness to earlier, but it is one-hundred percent the reason why. A drink wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“Actually… I think I might.” Your eyes are still on Seungmin as he finally finishes the skewer you’ve been holding, though, your gaze shifts in a split second towards a shrieking Changbin who has jumped from his spot on the ground at your change of mind.

“Really? Let’s get it!” He cheers, hands clapping temporarily in a way that is so fitting for him. His smile is etched, pulling you towards where the others are. The exaggeration makes you laugh a little, at how something as simple as you suddenly agreeing to drink has Changbin giggling and smiling. You know he’s always loved when you guys hang out together.

Similarly, Felix and Hyunjin are cheering alike.

“So, you’re coming too then?” In the span of time it took to confirm your attendance, Chan has dragged his feet towards where Minho is standing, nudging his side and looking at the boy expectantly. 

Minho sighs. “I guess I’m coming too.”

“I don’t think we’ll all fit in Chan’s car, though?”

Chan’s fancy 6-seater car would have sufficed for them. However, with the sudden addition of you and Minho, there’s a need to adjust the seating arrangement. It seems Seungmin’s realized the problem right away when he hovers by the front seat, basically denying entrance from anyone that isn’t him. 

“Let’s just eliminate people instead. Kim Seungmin, start walking.” Minho is too quick with his response, as if he had already been thinking about it. Seungmin stays unbothered, though, still at his post at being Chan’s passenger princess for the afternoon.

“I can sit on Changbin’s lap.” Felix proposes as Chan unlocks his car. It triggers a sinister smile on Seungmin’s face, and you can tell that whatever he’s about to say next will not benefit Minho in any way after your best friend’s comment earlier. 

“And (name) can sit on Minho’s lap. Okay, that’s settled, let’s go.” As predicted, Seungmin is already seated at the front, tugging at the seatbelt to solidify his position before Minho can stomp on his newly bought pair of converse for revenge at the proposition. That boy and Jeongin really need to cut down on their shoe purchases. 

“Is that fine for you, (name)?” Chan asks, opening the backseat door for you. You nod, not missing the way Minho’s eyes travel to yours in confirmation of your comfort. 

“Is no one going to ask how I feel about this?” Minho asks as the boys start to hunch over and take their seats in the back. Seungmin simply says a ludicrous ‘no’ as he twists his body so he can see the way everyone struggles while he has the front seat all to himself. 

Minho pulls you and seats you on his lap, as Changbin does with Felix. The position is extremely uncomfortable, with your back slouched and your cheek pressed against the headrest of the driver’s seat, but it isn’t something you haven’t done before. In fact, you remember a time when even Jisung and Jeongin were present in this same car. Although, you don’t recall much of what happened, just that your neck hurt so much from being craned the whole ride. 

“I’m not holding you by the way, so if Chan breaks suddenly then you’re on your own.” Your best friend feels the need to inform you, his arms pressed to his sides to offer you no support while Changbin has his arms wrapped around Felix’s torso. 

You know what happens to kids that don’t wear seatbelts. 

“Hyunjin, can I sit on your lap instead?” 

Hyunjin laughs, staring at the two of you before jokingly offering his hand to hold onto. You doubt it’ll be much help. 

The rest of the ride is spent engulfed in Minho’s warmth and the joint scent of everyone’s perfumes which is a little suffocating. And untrue to his words, when Chan does make a sudden break, you find Minho’s arms suddenly wrapped around your waist and tightening around you so you don’t stumble forward. 

Chan mutters something with a smug smile as he looks into the front view mirror, though you can’t hear anything over the loud beating of your heart.

five.

The music echoing around Jisung’s house thrums loudly in your ears. It’s the type of volume that solicits yelling just to hear each other, and you’re unsure if you’re prepared for the amount of screaming you’ll be doing tonight just to be heard by your friends. 

Jisung is the first to greet the seven of you, a bottle of beer in hand and loud laughing as he tugs all of you in for a hug. You can feel his insobriety, can smell it off of him, but he looks so adorable with excitement basically leaping out of him at seeing his best friends. 

Though, his eyes do narrow with a curious brow at the sight of you and Minho who had texted him earlier that you couldn’t make it.

“You made it!” It’s endearing the way his smile grows even more, cheeks protruded as he leans in to hug you. He does the same for Minho, and you can see him whisper something to the boy which earns him a harsh push. You can’t hear it though, and you doubt it’s anything serious when Jisung simply laughs in response. 

“Come on, let’s get you guys something to drink.” He yells over the music. 

The base from the speakers offers a steady rhythm as you navigate your way across sweaty and drunk college students, and it allows you the time to give the space a good gaze. It’s amiable, as expected from Jisung, and he doesn’t seem to have any form of fear at the lack of supervision of his things during a party. Though, you suppose he must’ve locked up anything important down in his basement. 

“Here we go.” He grabs a few bottles for those who ask for a beer, and offers cups to those who want to venture into the unknown mixture of alcohol in the fruit punch bowl. Jisung also apparently has a shot glass, and tells you where he hid the bottle of vodka in case the seven of you want any. He doesn’t want anyone else touching his precious stash of alcohol. Jisung’s lips wrap around the rim of his bottle, chugging down a few gulps, and then he’s pumping his fist up into the air to tell you guys to start drinking. 

Chan and Changbin start to take swigs, popping the cap from Minho’s bottle. It’s second nature to them that they don’t even bat an eyelash. You wonder how many times they’ve done this before. Meanwhile, you, Hyunjin, Felix, and Seungmin take a chance at the mysterious concoction. 

Chan scolds Felix for smelling it, immediately discouraged by the familiar scent of alcohol.

With a cup in hand and a countdown falling from Changbin’s mouth, you bring it to your lips and take a big gulp. The taste is strong, scorching down your throat as you swallow it down immediately the way you’re taught. There’s a tinge of spice, and the disgusting bite on your tongue solicits a scrunch on your face. 

“Oh my god, I actually hate alcohol. Why am I doing this to myself?” You exhale, pushing the cup away from your lips and squinting your eyes in disgust. It’s a mixture of vodka and some type of juice, but it seems they half-assed the ratio of juice so it’s majorly the hit of hard alcohol. You’d kill to have a Cola in hand as chaser.

Felix mutters the same remarks, and you laugh at the way he puts the cup down. At most, Felix is a sweet boy, and he could never swallow down anything as vile as alcohol so he goes to find some more juice to dump into his mixture while you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin force yourselves to empty the contents of your solo cups. 

It doesn’t really take long for the tipsiness to kick in, especially with whatever the hell they put in that bowl because before you know it, everything looks a little hazy and the simple scrunch on Felix’s face has you doubling in laughter. Everything is always funnier when you’re tipsy. 

“I’m definitely hit.” You bite down at your lips, teeth gliding and chewing. You feel nothing but numbness, and that’s how you know you’ve taken more than you can handle. “Min, you should be drinking more.”

“Min, you should be drinking more.” Minho repeats your words, almost mocking. In his grip is his second bottle of beer, and he stands by your side unperturbed by your swaying and your yelling over the music so your friends can hear you better. 

“Are you mocking me?” You’re on your toes, poorly trying to match his height to confirm whether he had repeated your words in mocking or because he can’t hear you properly. You know it’s the former. “Are you serious? You guys heard that, right?”

“Yo, that was so disrespectful. Personally, I wouldn’t stand for that.” Of course, Seungmin is the first to respond. He’s always the one instigating arguments, though, he can’t do it to the best of his ability when Felix is resting his head on his shoulder, grumbling about how awful the alcohol tastes even after he had dumped every juice he could find in Jisung’s refrigerator. 

You almost stumble when you bring yourself back to your original height, and Minho’s arms are around you in reflex. Though, they’re quick to let go so he can laugh at you. “Are you really already drunk off of, like, three cups?”

“Where’s Jeongin anyway? He should be suffering with us.” Felix peels his head from Seungmin’s shoulder, breath intertwined with alcohol before dropping his forehead back, eyes half-lidded.

“Crying over his minor subjects.” 

Your small circle falls into laughter at Seungmin’s response. Minor subjects were hell, especially when your professor treated them as if they were a major one. You could still recall barging into Minho’s dorm to cry over a project. Thinking back, you really could’ve half-assed it and still passed the class.

“Oh, that poor boy. I remember crying over Foreign Languages.” Changbin’s laugh doubles in volume at the memory of Jisung crying while mumbling some Russian gibberish. 

“No, because why would you think to take Russian of all the languages offered? You were setting yourself up.” The way Changbin’s voice cracks at laughing too much is contagious and has everyone clutching their stomachs in laughter. 

“I took German with Hyunjin. What did you guys take?”

“Spanish. I’m actually really good.” You boast, laughter slowing down into broken chuckles as you guys try to recollect your breaths. 

Seungmin passes you your newly refilled cup. “Okay. Tell us something in Spanish then.”

“Si Papi!” 

There’s a pause before all of you laugh your loudest for the night. It’s the type that makes your ribs hurt, bending over with aching cheeks from smiling too much. It even has Minho almost spitting out the beer he had just sipped from his bottle, taken aback by your response to Seungmin’s question. He had spent the night nursing a beer bottle in hand and listening in to your conversations, almost looking bored, though, you always find ways to solicit pure amusement from the boy.

Only you would ever say anything like that. 

Minho has to bite down on the back of his hand to stop him from choking over his own laughter and the beer he had almost spat out. 

“Yeah! That sounds… yeah! You nailed it!” Felix interrupts with more laughter. 

You’d give anything to stop time at this moment. Perhaps it’s because you don’t want to have anything in your mind but the happiness that you feel right now. You allow yourself the time to enjoy yourself, to take away the scorching image of Mark in your head and replace it with the overwhelming volume of the music. 

Hyunjin, who has grown more extroverted after chugging down his cup, pulls you, Jisung, and Felix to where everyone else is dancing. Chan’s gone to look for another bottle of beer while Changbin is singing along to the music at the top of his lungs, your personal karaoke as he sways from side to side just right next to the three of you dancing. Minho is the only one sitting up straight from your group, and while the look on his face can be deceiving, you know he’s having fun watching over everyone. 

When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking at you, unblinking. He throws you a thumbs up with an arched eyebrow and you nod your head before returning your attention to the music and the way you’re jumping around and singing along to 2000s pop hits with your best friends.

Exhaustion hits pretty fast. You can smell the fatigue on yourself after having jumped around for almost an hour. You stumble your way to where Minho’s seated, and he brings your chair closer to you so you don’t drop yourself on the floor. The way you attempt to sit straight is a pretentious act that you aren’t out of it, but you are, and your stomach’s starting to not feel so good. Your blurry vision and the overwhelming lights and music doesn’t really help your case either.

“Minnie.” You hiccup, putting away your cup on the table and bowing your head faintly. “I don’t feel so good.” 

Now the alcohol doesn’t seem that much of a great idea because the after effects are hitting you, and you know tomorrow will be much, much worse for you. At least you were offered a short getaway to stop thinking for a while. The temporary accompaniment was good until it wasn’t.

Minho frowns, having already made his way next to you and helping you up. “Come on, I’m taking you to Jisung’s room. Is that okay? Are you done having fun?” 

It’s endearing the way he asks if you’re done, though you can’t fathom any other form of response except for a grumble and the way you almost collapse into his arms from your wobbly legs. You don’t really remember how you end up on his back, but when you peel your eyes open, you’re moving past the crowd with your cheek pressed against the top of his head. 

“What’s wrong?” Jisung hiccups, making his way to the two of you and helping move people aside so the path towards his room is easier on Minho.

“I think she’s had too much to drink. I’m taking her up to your room, is that fine?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Minho is strong in the way he carries you with his hands on your thighs, crouching down and hoisting you up when you feel like you’re about to fall. When he successfully makes his way to Jisung’s room, Minho makes sure to knock loudly on the door, ear pressed against the door. “Nobody better be making out in here!” And it’s only when silence greets him does he allow himself to twist the doorknob open. 

“Sit down for a moment.” You burp when he places you down, body swaying alarmingly as you move to lay on the ground instead. Minho bends down to sit you back up so you don’t accidentally choke on your own vomit. It’s happened before with Chan, and he is not about to have a repeat. 

“Just let me get a few of Jisung’s clothes for you to change into. And I should probably get you water. It’ll help you sober up, kay?” 

“No, Min… wait!” The sudden movement has you clutching your head and forgetting what you were going to say to the boy. “Ugh.” 

“Are you okay?” He takes a look at your heavy eyelids and your disheveled hair, and the way you hold your head in the palm of your hands. Minho moves from his place by Jisung’s closet to crouch down next to you instead. “Why did you drink so much?”

“Stop scolding me.” You hiccup. The music is more drowned out hidden in the four walls of Jisung’s room, and you know Minho’s teasing you by the tone of his voice.

“I’m not scolding you.” His eyes hold yours, and he speaks softly. 

Your faces are a few inches apart, and even in the hazy way you’re seeing things, you can still admit that Lee Minho is beautiful. His hair is a little sweaty from the warmth of the overcrowded house, and his cheeks are dusted pink from the alcohol, but you know he’s not hit. 

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You clear your throat before he can say anything else.

“No, you’re not. I am not cleaning anyone’s vomit. Not today.”

Minho lifts you up from the ground, taking you to the bathroom so you’re seated directly in front of the toilet. He pulls the hair tie around your wrist, taking it from you so he can tie your hair up in case you do end up vomiting.

Tears prick in your eyes in your attempt to puke, though nothing but choked coughs come out. It makes you feel pathetic, so much so that you swat away Minho’s hand that’s rubbing your back. You don’t want anyone to look at you like this, teary eyes and hunched over so you bury your face in your hands where no one can see you. 

“I’m so miserable and so unlovable.” You mumble incoherently, banging your head again and again on the wall before it meets contact with Minho’s palm instead. His free hand guides itself across your face, peeling away your fingers so he can see you better.

“Don’t be stupid. You’re not.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m misera—”

“Unlovable. You’re not unlovable.” There’s a pause as he exhales. 

“How would you know?” 

There’s an unreadable expression on Minho’s face when you ask. He looks like someone you’ve never met with the way he stares at you, although familiar. It’s clear that he’s thinking, but of what, you have no idea. He looks so concentrated.

“I just do.” 

He’s so soft-spoken that you can’t bring yourself to rebut. And he doesn’t seem to wait for your response when he bends down to scoop you back up in his arms after making sure you showed no more signs of vomiting. 

“I’m gonna get water. It’ll help you sober up.” He repeats, placing you down on Jisung’s bed and you immediately roll over to get yourself comfortable. Minho notes to change the sheets for the boy after classes tomorrow. 

When he comes back, you’ve already fallen asleep.

six.

“Wake up.” 

Minho’s shaking is unforgiving, peeling the comforter away from you despite your protests. He cringes at the way you grab the pillow, gripping it over your face so his whining would come out filtered and a little mumbly. Though, you fail to consider the way the pillow can easily be yanked away from you, especially from someone like Lee Minho.

His shaking are full-blown shoves now, and his voice is growing louder and louder despite the grumbling from Seungmin who had apparently also stumbled into Jisung’s room and fallen asleep on the floor some time in the night.

“Wake up, or we’re going to be late.” 

The mention of class causes you to abruptly sit up, and Minho is about to drag you away from the bed when you fall back down, hands clutching your head and eyes squinted. “Oh my fucking god, my head.”

Too much is happening for your liking. The trance of sleep is still lingering in the way you blink slowly, and the headache you’re suckling under is hard to ignore. This is what you get for drinking on a weekday when you have 9am classes the next day.

The sight of your disheveled hair and the terribly grumpy look you’re sporting almost makes Minho snort, but he focuses on the mission at hand, and it’s to get you out of your bed so you don’t miss the only class you have for the day.  And, as much as you want to be pissed off at Minho, you know he has your best interest at heart.

“Drink this and go take a shower.” 

You rub your eyes, resentfully sitting up once again with Minho’s helping hand on your back. It’s only now you notice his damp hair, and the way he’s standing there with a plain black shirt and the gray joggers he wears almost everyday–you swear he owns ten pairs. He’s holding a whole pitcher of water too, shoving it in your direction as you blink away the restlessness.  

You drink straight out of it even though the water seems to want to expel out of your body. You’ve had a few drunken nights to learn this, and it’s best that you finish it so you aren’t dehydrated for the rest of the day. Something about alcohol and the way it causes excessive urination which makes you lose more fluids than you should.

There’s barely any time to adjust to real-time when your best friend starts shoving you to the direction of the bathroom, throwing you a pair of Jisung’s joggers when he was in high school and an oversized hoodie that the boy had stolen from Minho. You don’t process how you manage to take a shower with your headache and the lack of sleep, only remembering the way the cold water felt and how relieving it was to brush your teeth to try and rid the scent of alcohol.

“You ready?” Minho runs a hand through his hair before pressing it down, eyes meeting yours just as you stumble out of the bathroom. He already has Chan’s car keys in hand. 

You follow him tiredly, keeping your head hung to try and remedy the aching, all while Minho is gently shaking Chan’s passed out shoulder on the couch. “Channie, I’m taking your car.” The older boy just stirs, hand lifting in approval before it falls limp on his chest. 

“Alright, in you go.” Minho reaches over, grabbing your seatbelt for you so he can fasten it. The position is a little compromising, and he’s inches away from you that you get a waft of his scent. He smells like Jisung’s soap, the same one you had used on yourself. Though, you don’t want to obsess about how close he is. 

When he’s sure you won’t topple over in the case that he breaks, he stumbles out of your space and positions himself in the driver’s seat. 

He doesn’t need to make much adjustments to anything considering he and Chan are nearly the same height. So, he takes the handbrake off and pulls on the gearshift before he’s guiding you out of Jisung’s parkway and towards the direction of the university. 

Lee Minho is attractive as he drives steadily down the highway, eyes never leaving the road. His posture is sharp, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and turning it in perfect control when he needs to. It’s a little addicting to look at, and you’re sure you would’ve spent the entire duration staring at him if not for the lingering headache that causes you to veer away from your staring and close your eyes instead. It makes you grumble, head falling back into the space between the car window and your headrest.

“You sound like a dying mouse being suffocated by a small knife.” It slips out of his mouth, and even without looking at him, you know he’s wearing a small smirk on his face. 

“...You need to go to a psych ward.” 

You spend majority of the ride trying to recall what had happened last night, not that you remember much. You vaguely register laughing over Jeongin’s demise, dancing a lot, and Minho’s voice while you tried to retch out what you had for dinner over Jisung’s toilet. “What the hell even happened last night?”

“Do you really want me to tell you?” 

“Why? Was I that embarrassing?” You open your eyes for a second to glance at your best friend, though his eyes remain glued on the road. It only makes you whine even more when he nods, shutting your eyes back closed after feeling dizzy over the strain of lights on your vision. “This is why I should never drink ever again.”

“You really don’t remember anything?” Minho tries asking. 

“I remember pieces and chunks of it. I… uh, remember dancing and eating ice cream? Dude, I don’t even know. I think I tried to pick a fight with someone at one point.” You start. “And in the bathroom, when… oh.” You smack your lips together at the sudden memory, a pit in your stomach suddenly forming at the recollection. 

You’re not unlovable. His words ring in your ears, hovering over the honking of cars and the bustle of business outside as people start their days. Did he really mean it when he said that or had he taken pity over your self-wallowing? Was he only saying it to comfort you? He didn’t feel cold when he said it though. While you don’t remember much, you can feel the faint warmth and the gentle lull in his voice when he spoke to you. 

“What?” He eggs you to keep going, but your mouth suddenly feels bitter, pressed together in trial of sealing the words in your mouth. 

It was embarrassing enough to yap about it drunk to Minho last night, you don’t need to repeat it this morning. Clenching your fists, you bring them to shield your eyes, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m leaving you on the side of the road.” 

You sigh. 

“DoyoureallythinkI’mnotunlovable?” You shuffle out the words as per his request, head tilted away from him so you’re facing the window instead. 

“I literally cannot understand you, please learn how to speak.” He deadpans.

“Do you really think I’m not unlovable? Do you actually mean it?” You repeat, slowly this time, like he’s asking of you. You don’t see the way his grip tightens around the steering wheel. 

There’s a pause, and he’s silent for a moment. You almost regret bringing it up again had you not remembered that this was a usual thing for your best friend. There’s something about him–in the way he presses his lips together, front lip tutting out, and the way he blows his hair away from his eyes and peeks at you for a second before leading them back on the road. It’s indicative of when he thinks, when he ponders over teasing or being genuine. 

“Of course I do.” If you listen close enough, you would’ve heard the way his voice cracks a little at the latter part of his sentence, though it’s well hidden beneath an exhale. “A lot of people love you, (name). The boys love you, your family. I— Soonie, Doongie, Dori too. You aren’t a reflection of what one stupid fucker thinks of you.”

You can’t help the quiet, airy laugh at the way his voice significantly grows softer, free hand patting your thigh for a second before returning on the gearshift. There’s something about the way he says it that makes you feel something inside, a small silver lining piercing through your heart. 

“Wow. I didn’t think you would actually… that you had it in you to tell me that.” Your eyes meet his side profile, and you can tell he’s taking quick glances at you before he heaves a heavy sigh.

“Don’t act like I don’t care about you.” He mumbles, and there’s a little hoarseness in the way he said it. You think you might be imagining it.

“You don’t care about me.” You say as a joke, and almost out of impulse at the way Minho is making your bones rattle right now. Maybe if you moved the course of your conversation somewhere lighter, the rattling would stop.

“I don’t care?” He scoffs, but you can tell he’s chaffing by the way his voice increases in volume. “I… don’t… care?” It’s incredulous the way he says it, mouth dropping as if you had dropped the biggest, wrongful accusation his way. 

“Okay, okay, okay, maybe you care a little. It’s touching that you give me coffee.” 

He hums. “Because for coffee, there’s a minimum order amount.”

You merely laugh.

“That’s right. I guess I’m just a means to match the minimum order amount.” 

“Okay, but seriously, you aren’t unlovable, okay? You’re just sad and a little bit angry. Let’s have some coffee after class, hm?” The pace of the car slows down as he puts Chan’s car on hazard. You recognize the building to be his dorm. His words make you look down at the sleeves of the oversized jacket you’re wearing, stomach tying in knots. “Now, wait here. I just need to get my homework.” 

That surely makes your head spring up. 

“Homework?” 

“The one Miss Kim assigned us last time? You know, when she left class early and had us do a few equations.” 

“Oh my god.” When your exasperation meets his gaze, he laughs. 

“You didn’t do it?”

“I didn’t do it!” You say in panic, eyes widening as he hurriedly jogs into his dorm room to grab the paper hanging on his desk before he shoves his answered worksheet to you. You catch it, immediately rummaging your backpack from the day before for a pen and paper so you can start copying off of Minho.

You don’t finish by the time you make it to your building, and Minho has to push from behind you as you look nowhere but your paper. You don’t even realize you’ve made it to your seats until your best friend pushes you down to sit while he mindlessly scrolls on his phone.

“Minho, Minho, Minho.” You don’t look at him as you call his name, still scribbling down numbers and equations you don’t understand. “If she comes in, please distract her. I’m only halfway done, please, please, please.”

“What do I get in return?” He cracks a vexatious grin, one you want to wipe off his face so bad because of course he’d find a way to profit off of your suffering. He puts down his phone, fixing his gaze on your hunched over figure with the same stupid smirk. You almost want to stab the pen in his eye.

“Please, I would take back every insult I’ve ever said to yo— Actually wait, you’re the one that insults me. I’ll forget every insult you've ever said to me if you do this, please.”

He sighs, body falling limp on his chair in defiance. He’s acting like a three-year-old when their parents don’t get the toy they’re begging for in the mall. “You’re taking me to that cat cafe that just opened.” 

“Fine, just do it.” You respond harshly. 

It’s with perfect timing that Minho arrives at the entrance to your classroom, just as Ms. Kim walks in and the students start going back to their seats from having gossiped with their friends. This prompts you to look over at your best friend, seeing him pull out his phone and shove it in your professor’s face. You would have laughed if not for the homework that’s staring at you maniacally. You try not to fuck up your numbers. 

Minho glances up at you from time to time, and when you’re still bent over the table, he knows he has to keep scrolling through his photo album appropriately labeled Soondoongdori. You better be paying for his coffee later in exchange for the stupid things he does for you on a daily basis.

“Don’t you have a cat too, Ms. Kim?” He asks, tone sickeningly sweet as he forces her to look at another video of Doongie meowing in front of his door. In the first minute, it’s actually kind of cute and sweet for him to show her endearing photos of her favorite animal. That is, until six more minutes pass and he’s still showing her photos when she’s supposed to have started class by now. 

“Oh, wait. But look at Soonie and the hat he’s wearing.”

“Lee Minho. I appreciate you showing me photos of your own cats, but please go back to your seat so I can start the class.” She tries to keep an even tone, and Minho all but smiles in faux innocence as he finally returns to his seat next to you just as you finish. “I’ll send you a Google Drive if you’d like!”

She dismisses his offer.

“Alright. Pass your homework.” Ms. Kim announces, and you let out the sigh you didn’t know you’ve been holding as Minho takes both of your papers from you so he can put it on your professor’s table as instructed.

“You’re paying for my coffee.” He whispers threateningly, chucking his phone back into the pocket of his sweatpants before crossing his arms and relaxing in his seat in preparation for your 2-hour lecture. 

You would’ve thrown him a gentle punch in retaliation for attempting to steal money off of you, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Lee Minho is your lifeline, and you’re sure you would’ve dropped out of college if not for his constant nagging and the way he saves your ass every single time you need it. In fact, you were fully convinced you would’ve fallen prisoner to your breakup if not for the way he forces you out of your dorm to do something as simple as grocery shopping or eating dinner with him. 

“Alright, fine.” You say, turning your attention to your professor as she begins her powerpoint presentation. 

You risk one last glance at your best friend, lips jutted out the way they do when he’s concentrated and bored eyes directed to the front. It’s awkward timing to be grateful for him while your teacher rants about something, but it can’t be helped. 

It’s uncommon to come across a Minho in your life. Perhaps all the reincarnations of you before had suffered tremendously for the lack of luck on having Lee Minho, so you suppose the price of coffee will suffice in hinting at your appreciation for the boy for the lengths and hoops he goes through for you. 

If you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get him again in your next life.

seven.

The Cat Playground is a cafe that recently opened a month ago just outside your campus. You’ve been meaning to head there for quite some time, however, the initial buzz of a newly opened establishment is terrifying. Whenever you and Minho had passed by it, a truck load of people were filling up the space, and you really didn’t want to stress out the kittens. 

Though, it’s a little more bearable now that people have gotten over that fizzle. As promised, you take him to the coffee shop for the “embarrassment” you had put him through earlier this morning. Plus, coffee will do the light dizziness you’re still nursing. 

The inside of the small building is cold, though the sun does a wonderful job reflecting through the huge glass windows to perfectly balance the temperature. You coo instantly at the sight of the cats, pacing around and jumping to sleep in their little wooden cat houses. There’s a sort of friendliness the place houses that’s striking to you. The paintings lined up give the place a character of its own, pillows on the floor and tables surprisingly stout. You suppose it’s so that it’s easier to play with the cats, though, there is space in the back with normal-sized furniture. You don’t pay it mind. You know exactly where you and Minho will be seated. 

You continue to walk a few meters as Minho lines up for the both of you, instructing you to find a seat. The closer you got to where the cats stayed, the more you could distinguish their scent, and there are a few toys sticking out that only look familiar to you because Minho has them back at home for his own cats. 

Though, a sharp squeeze turns in your sternum when you spot an empty space only for a huge butterfly painting to decorate its wall. Your throat dries up at the sight.

Oh.

You contemplate whether or not you should just suck it up and sit here, eyes unmoving from the painting that you don’t notice your best friend until he places a hand on your shoulder and pushes you past the painting towards an empty space not far away. 

He drops on a beanie bag right away, hand outstretched to start calling the attention of the cats. They come stumbling in, purring loudly and situating themselves by your feet. You wonder if they can sense cat owners, almost convinced they can by the way they comfortably sit by Minho. 

One of them jumps on his lap, patting down on his stomach before flopping down to lay down. On instinct, Minho reaches out to rub its head, moving down to its chin and neck. “What are you doing on my belly, hm?” He mumbles, leaning down to bump his nose with the cat’s. 

The sight you’re subjected to makes your heart soften significantly. 

“Your order is horrible, by the way. How the hell do you drink that?” Minho laughs, face scrunching in faux disgust when you start sipping on your drink. It has way too much cream and sugar for your best friend’s liking. You simply roll your eyes. 

“You literally drink straight black coffee. I don’t know who thought that was good for human consumption. Ahh—” You’re immediately distracted by the cats passing by you, trying to coax them to come to you but they don’t. You pout, holding both your arms out to the little group settled around Minho. “They don’t like me very much.” 

“They don’t?” Minho coos, eyes full of mirth as he reaches down to one of the cats. A british shorthair. “Can you go to her and make her feel better, hm? She’s being a little sulky right now.” 

On command, the little kitten paces towards where you’re seated, hovering around you before you finally scoop the little boy in your arms and place him on your belly, mimicking Minho. Your eyes fall towards the cat before making contact with your best friend’s, big smile on your face so much so that the apple of your cheeks are visible. 

“See, they just needed some time, but they like you too.” 

The softness in Minho’s gaze takes great effect in whatever the hell you’re feeling inside that you have to avert your eyes back to the small cat lounging on your stomach. This cat, and Minho, and the hot coffee waiting for you on your table makes you so overwhelmingly happy, as little things often do. It’s new, this feeling of contentment. 

It’s quiet and nice to just be with your best friend, and the cats, and your coffee. They make you feel like everything will only get better from here on out, make you realize that sometimes happiness is this simple.

“Mark didn’t like cats very much.” Your voice softens, hand scratching the kitten’s head. “So… this is nice.” You mumble the rest of your words, but it’s at the right amount of silence that Minho still hears you. 

“Hmm… should’ve ended things right then and there.” He murmurs.

You laugh at his response. “I should’ve. I hate that I can’t— like some things will never be the same.”

Minho scoots his seat closer to where you are.

“Like what?” He asks.

“Like—” You sigh, biting your lips and staring down on your lap. “You’re gonna say it’s stupid.” 

Minho raises his eyebrows, not diverting his gaze anywhere but on you. “Only if it is.” 

“Like butterflies.” Your shoulders slump, and there’s a dejection in your voice. “We were gonna sit there, but then it reminded me of his stupid tattoo and I just… He took away something beautiful from me— I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” He places his hand over yours, stopping you from fiddling with your fingers. The contact makes your heart jump. “Do you think it’s something you can regain?” 

You look down at his hand on yours, carefully taking it to play with the ring he wears, pulling it out and pushing it back in. When you look up at him once again, you’re met with his softening stare. 

“I want to… I hope to. It doesn’t hurt as much when I buy milk.” 

“That’s good. Hopefully, you’ll be able to feel that more than you feel haunted by it.” 

You swallow, nodding your head. “I’m trying.” 

Minho doesn’t say anything else, taking your order from the table and handing it to you so you can satiate your thoughts temporarily with the taste of coffee. Then, he positions himself next to you so you can rest your head on his shoulder the way he knows you want to. It’s quiet, aside from the gentle chatter of those around you and the purring of the cats walking around. Minho still has a cat in his arms, his knee would nudge yours from time to time just to check on you. 

Then his phone rings. It doesn’t look like he wants to make a move to pick it up, groaning at the sudden breach of his peace. Sighing, he finally picks up the call and presses it to his ear just as the cat hops off of his lap. 

“What? Don’t call me if you don’t need anything.” He hangs up just as quickly as he picks up the phone and you laugh a little at the abruptness and his urge to return to the moment with you.

“Min?” 

“Hm?” He hums, pocketing his phone and turning to look at you. The sound of his name falling from your lips always makes him perk up like this. 

The irritation on his face has dissipated, and he looks at you with nothing but gentleness. You treasure these moments with Minho. He might not look like it, but really does care about the people around him. You’re lucky he let you into his circle.

“Thank you.”

You don’t need to specify for what. He already knows. 

eight.

Finals season for the semester marks the arrival of winter, sweeping in mounds of snow. 

Your university is blanketed in white, frosted windows as students hurry towards their next exam wearing layers upon layers of coats. The winter’s breeze settles heavy, harsh winds nipping at your dorm window. Though, you can’t quite hear the frigid weather over Minho’s unabashed laughter, meshing with the chilling winds outside. It’s so infectious, that if you hadn’t ensnared yourself into this situation, you would’ve been laughing with him.

“Will you stop laughing?!” The perplexity etched upon your face only seems to make Minho laugh harder, one hand clutching at his stomach while the other grips tightly around your notebook. “Minho, I am going to fail!”

You drop on the ground, piles of papers and notes surrounding you. You suppose this was on you for mistakenly thinking your Calculus exam would take place after your winter break, only realizing it was actually in three hours when Chaeryeong had texted you with a picture of her notes, asking you if it was included in the coverage for the exam later.

You called Minho in a panic, knowing he had taken this class a year before. However, when you had told him of your predicament, he had fallen into a fit of laughter. He knows your distress is genuine, yet he can’t help but find it funny. This would only happen to you. 

With your face buried in your hands, you kick your feet around messily, akin to a child denied of things they wanted their parents to buy. 

“Get up. Come on.” He interrupts himself with more laughter, kneeling down next to you and slapping your legs so you can get his message. “Get up, we can do this! We still have three hours!” 

“I didn’t know the exam was later. I thought it was after the break.” Your muffled cries are punctuated by Minho's choked laughter. He’s still shoving your legs, persistence heavy until you actually sit up from your place on the ground. 

“Focus!” Minho’s laughter finally subsides, eyes scanning over the pages of your notes. “Okay, you know how to write polar equations in parametric form right?” 

“Dude, I don’t know.” 

“Oh my god, you’re actually so fucked.” 

“Minho, please!” There is no way in hell you can scold the boy. You need his help. Otherwise, you’d have to fail your exam without so much as an effort to even get a passing grade. And you were not about to retake this class next semester. 

He’s laughing again. “You can use the standard transformation from Cartesian coordinates to polar coordinates. Come here, look at this.” 

He finishes up writing out the equations and formulas on your notebook, propping it up for you to see better. “You just have to memorize these, and you’ll pass. I swear.” 

“This is so ridiculous.” You whine, grabbing the notebook from his hand and staring at it as if your life depends on it. You’re desperately wishing you had just checked on your schedule again, clarified with a classmate, absolutely anything that could’ve gotten you out of the hell of cramming formulas you don’t understand in three hours.

“You’re a lost cause.” 

Minho flinches when you attempt to hit him with your notebook. 

“I know I am, but one of us has to be optimistic and as my best friend, you’re going to be playing that role.” You drop your head back down on the floor, although the collision isn’t as harsh when your head makes contact with Minho’s head. 

“Why are you trying to hit your head? You’ll lose everything you have left in there.” His eyes are mirthful, and you know there’s laughter brewing at the tip of his tongue. 

“Minhooooooo!” You whine.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you. You’re probably going to fail this test. It’s not that I don’t have faith in you, but there’s just nothing we can do about it now. Besides, you still have that final project, right?” You feel a section in your brain twitch and Minho lifts his hands up when you direct a chilling glare at him. 

“Maybe Seungmin can be my new best friend.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Minho!”

“Okay, okay! Memorize the formulas and you’ll at least pass.” 

You do better than you expect, and it’s all thanks to Minho’s stupid list of formulas.

nine.

You hate that it hits you randomly. 

It had been 2 months since you last saw Mark, back when you had gotten so drunk at Jisung’s party. The pain isn’t so much over him, but the powerlessness that you feel. You’re sure you’re over him, but insecurities are so hard to banish when the breakup acts as a fuel to send everything in flames. 

When you feel this way, something as easy as your bracelet snapping can set you off. It’s a silly thing to be worked up over, but you are. 

It’s how you find yourself in front of Minho’s dorm, nose red from the nipping snow and snowflakes littering your eyelashes and your hair. There’s visible puffs when you breathe, and you’re sure your tears have frozen over from the harsh winds, though the tug of the breeze does nothing to hide how swollen your eyes are.

Snow pollutes your vision, and it’s a little difficult to trek through the heavy snow, but you make it to his dorm building. He doesn’t expect to find you crying in front of him at eleven in the evening.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His voice wavers, gently tugging you into the warmth of his dorm room. He positions you by the heater, grabbing the blanket he had been using and wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Min…” You try to speak, but your face almost breaks.

He sucks in a deep breath at the sight. “Don’t cryyy. It’s okay, come here.” 

Minho dusts away the snowflakes on your hair, tugging you to sit on the couch. He’s careful with his steps, guiding you forward as he walks back. 

“Be careful, the floor’s slippery. I just mopped it.” He brings his palms together, rubbing them and blowing into them before resting them on your cold cheeks when you’re finally seated on the couch. There’s a prominent furrow to his eyebrows, but his eyes are soft. 

“It’s broken.” Your face twitches, staring down at your clenched fingers. 

“What’s broken?” He murmurs, hand wrapping around your wrist to bring your fist closer to him. 

“My bracelet. It’s…” You have to bite back the sob that bursts from your throat, opening your hand to reveal the broken string and a few beads that had fallen off when it had snapped earlier. You’re feeling so much—embarrassment, frustration, everything. 

“Okay, it’s okay.” He draws himself closer to where you’re seated, wrapping the string around your wrist. “I’ll fix it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Your vision is distorted as Minho ties the string around your wrist, head hung inches away from yours as you stare down at his hands. His elbow nudges your chest gently as he works on your broken bracelet, and you can feel a few strands of his hair tickle your cheeks at the proximity. 

“Is that better?” It’s temporarily fixed, string tied in knots just enough so it’s clinging onto your wrist but it’s enough. “See, all fixed now. Nothing to worry about.” 

At his words, you start to break into another silent sob, face scrunching as you bow your head so he can’t see you properly. Your free hand goes to fiddle with your temporarily fixed bracelet, sniffling as you feel a few tears dripping down and sinking into the skin of your arm.

“Hey, look at me.” Minho coos, but it only makes you cry harder when you finally lift your head to meet his gaze. You wipe your eyes with your sleeves, taking in a deep breath as you struggle to keep eye contact. 

“Have you eaten dinner?” 

You shake your head.

“Do you want to eat now? I can cook you something really fast.” He whispers.

You sniffle, blinking back your tears until you can see him enough. “Okay.”

Minho rushes to the kitchen, leaving you with the rabbit stuffed animal you had given him in your senior year of high school. He says it’s to keep you company while he cooks, and that you should take in slow deep breaths with Leebit.

He does return fast, bowl of hot food in hand that he blows into before handing it to you. “Careful, it’s hot.” He blinks at you, voice as soft as you had heard it that time you had cried over his spicy steak and pasta. 

“Good?” You nod, chewing into the food slowly. There are still tears bunched up in your eyes, but they don’t fall anymore. 

“Of course it is.” There’s a teasing edge to his voice as he leans forward to brush your hair out of your face, soothing it down, and it makes you laugh a little like it did before. 

The boy reaches forward, decides to wipe a stray tear away as he sits cross-legged beside you on his couch, eyes staying on you as you continue to quietly eat the food he had made for you. There’s still a lingering feeling in the pit of your stomach, but Minho makes you forget about that.

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out shaky. “I don’t— I don’t know why I was crying.”

“Oh, this poor baby.” There’s an intonation in the way he speaks, setting down your empty bowl on the table as he pulls your head to rest on his shoulder. His heart clenches at the way you instantly succumb, eyes dropping from exhaustion as you nuzzle your head on his shoulder.

“Stop babying me.” You whine. “You always baby me when I cry.”

“You make it so easy, though.” He murmurs.

A warm hand comes up to your chin, stroking it like he would a cat. And you don’t understand in the slightest, but it lifts a pressure off your chest just being here with him. It feels familiar here with him, so comfortable. You’ve always been made to think that crying makes you weak, but it’s never been a problem with Minho. 

You’re thankful for exactly who he is, and for offering a type of relationship you would have only dreamed of when you were a child. He makes you feel easy to love, that you don’t have to try and make yourself digestible so people will love you more. 

You’ll do what makes you happy, and that’s all he’ll ever ask from you. 

ten.

You spend the night before New Years at Minho’s dorm room. 

He’s out buying a few things for dinner, and he comes home to you staring outside the window. Your lips are parted, like you want to ask him something, but no words come out. He lets you be, feet waddling to stand next to you as he tries to see what’s outside that has so much of your interest.

“What’re you looking at?” Minho stirs, piping down to try and see things clearer, but all he sees is snow. 

“Why? Are you so interested in the things that catch my eye?” He looks down at you with a judging eye, lips drawn together into a line. 

“I’m going to stick my fingers in your eye.” 

“I wanna go out and play in the snow.” He knows the question hanging in your statement, knows you want him to come out with you. But he also knows that you know he’s not the biggest fan of winter, and the heavy snow, and how it’s prone to make someone sick. 

“No.” Minho responds, moving away from the window to start arranging his groceries in the kitchen. You drag your feet to follow him, pouting up at him. It’s manipulative, you’re trying to manipulate him with your stupid pout, but it isn’t working. 

“Please! I wanna go outside, and it’ll be boring to play in the snow alone!” 

“I know a really nice place where we can go.” He suddenly grins, the kind that meets his eyes in a haunting manner, but you know him better than that. You know exactly what he’s going to say.

“You’re gonna say this dorm, aren’t you?” You mumble. “Okay, fine. I’ll just go outside alone.”

“Really? Great thinking!” Minho laughs directly in your face, and it only makes your pout grow. Even reserve psychology isn’t working on him. 

“Minhoooooo.” You whine, tugging at the ends of his shirt and smiling bright at him—almost as if a politician begging for his vote. 

He finishes putting away his groceries, head hung back as he lets out a sigh. “You are such an old woman. Fine, let’s go.” 

“That’s the spirit! You know, I think this should be your year of yes.”

“I say yes to everything though.” 

“Yeah, but like begrudgingly.”

“And that’s the best I can do. Now hurry up, you’re taking too long.” He’s already waiting for you by the door, arms crossed as you struggle to put on your coat and your boots. 

When you attempt to run outside, he tugs you back before grabbing an extra pair of gloves for you to wear. You smile at him thankfully before running outside and instantly dropping to start playing with the snow. Minho stands by your side, watching as your eyes stay focused on the falling snow. It’s an endearing sight, the way you crouch down and gather as much snow you can in your gloved hands. 

He’s not too eager for the season as much as everyone is, doesn’t find the appeal in freezing your ass off, doesn’t have the time to scoop away the snow just to get his car out of the driveway. He’s almost everything that you aren’t. Though, he thinks he can make an exception by the way you excitedly show him the snowball in your hands. You look like an example of pure, unadulterated happiness brought by the season, and in the moment, Minho sees why people enjoy the snow so much. 

“Alright, come on, let’s build a snowman.” Your head snaps in his direction, smile so bright that you have to bite down at your lips to hold the giggle that’s trying to escape your mouth. A winter ago, you had complained to him about how Mark never wanted to build a snowman with you. He had taken his side at the time, having hated the snow himself.

“Actually?” Your eyes are wide as you ask him. 

He thinks you look like an idiot as you drag him to where there’s a few piles of snow, but he’ll be mute with amusement as you actually start to build one together. He travels the distance of where you are to his dorm twice just to grab a carrot and buttons for eyes as you scour around to look for a few sticks as arms. It’ll be worth it when you jump back in amazement at the snowman you had built.

To be frank, Minho thinks it looks a bit scuffed. His arm is about to fall off, and his head is way too small in proportion to his body, but he watches with an unconscious grin on his face as you excitedly take photos of the snowman. 

When your face starts to flush red, Minho ushers you back inside his dorm. “Let’s get back inside. It’s time for you to go into the oven.” 

You laugh.

“Thanks for coming out with me.” 

He clears his throat at the sudden sincerity. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

You jump back when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. It’s his silent revenge for you dragging him out into the cold he dislikes so much. “Your hand is so cold! Get it away from me!”

“Ah, I must be passing away soon. My temperature keeps dropping.”

“Can you stop saying stuff like that!”

Minho laughs at the way you throw the gloves you had worn at him, a cute string of chuckles with his habitual ‘ah’ right after. He catches it with ease, setting them aside on the table in case you feel another sudden spur to go outside. 

He makes you hot chocolate a few minutes later. Another begrudging yes upon your sudden request. Leebit keeps you company as he cooks up something for dinner. 

eleven.

Winter settles heavily, and you’re handed the hot chocolate you were promised. You eat dinner over quiet conversations, new year's resolutions spilled after small sips of the wine Minho had opened. Though, around an hour before the calendar restarts, his voice falls mute in your ears. You just nod at the right times, smile when he does, and focus on the way the words fall out of his mouth.

This is the most relaxed you’ve ever felt. 

You suppose you should feel guilty for your inability to listen to him, but there is something enchanting about the way Minho laughs. You didn’t know it looked as beautiful as this, starting from his throat before bubbling out in a boyish chuckle. You would’ve never noticed otherwise.

The moment only unmutes itself when he pinches your arm. 

“Ow!” You yelp, drawing your hand back. “What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening to me anymore.” He whines, setting his empty wine glass down.

“I’m sorry, I’ll listen now. I swear”. You laugh, staring down at the space between your thighs before looking up at your best friend. He’s wearing a pout, but you can tell there’s a small smile threatening to pull at his lips. 

“Was just talking about how we should ruin children’s dreams by telling everyone Santa Claus isn’t real.”

It’s such a Minho thing to say, and you can only laugh at the boy fondly as he pushes himself to his feet. You’re about to ask where he’s going when he tells you to wait a second, disappearing into his room with a purpose in his eye. Though, when he comes back, he says nothing as he resumes his place next to you.

“Close your eyes.” He finally says. 

“Why?” 

“Just close them.” 

“The last time you let someone close their eyes, you had violently shoved tissues down their mouth.” You accuse, recalling the time when Hyunjin had fallen victim to your best friend’s antics. A smile ghosts on his face at the memory. He truly is a psychopath. 

“I don’t have any tissues on me, so close your eyes before I shut them myself.”

“Jesus, alright, I’m closing them. How have you gotten away with this behavior for years? You should be locked up somewhere.” You joke, finally shutting your eyes. 

“Give me your hand.”

“Minho, I swear to God, if you put a bug on my ha—”

“Give it to me.” He interrupts you, taking your hand. You feel a weight being pressed down on your hand. It’s light, and it feels a little scattered. 

“Alright, open your eyes.” 

You feel yourself freeze momentarily, staring at the bracelet on your hand. You had expected him to pull some sort of gag, to put a fake plastic bug on your hand, not a bracelet that looked identical to the one you had broken almost a month ago. It leaves you speechless, looking up at him but he instantly breaks eye contact. 

Minho is looking down at his feet, scuffing it around his floor. His lips are parted like he wants to say something, but it looks a little hesitant. Pondering even. And he does intend to say something, but of the thousands of words he has learned from the day he was born up until this moment, he doesn’t think he can find the right words to say to you.

He still tries.

“I know that Christmas is over, but it took me a really long time to find the exact one you had broken.” He settles on something teasing. It’s what he knows best. “I know, I know, I’m the greatest best friend in the world.”

You look down at the bracelet that he quietly wraps around your wrist. You can only blink, frozen in your spot. He’s wordless as he encases it, and it’s only now you see that something’s different about him. There’s a small butterfly charm sitting at the center, beautiful and dainty. Your heart squeezes.

“The butterfly…” You start.

“Is to regain it. No boy has power to take away the things you find beautiful. I hope… in this way, it can be yours again.” He finishes for you.

You’re sure the nudge in your heart is easily seen in your expression. His name falls from your mouth, looking down at the bracelet before back at him. He looks so beautiful. His smile is too pretty, hair too soft. It’s hard not to look at him. It’s even harder when he does things like this, little by little making your heart feel whole again. He introduces you to a warmth you’ve never known. 

“What’s with that face? Don’t get emotional. I’m not saying this to move you.”

His response makes you laugh when he says it because it’s just so him, but even his words contradict with the way he’s holding back his smile.

10…9…8…

There’s silence right after your laughter subdues and you hear nothing but your muted breathing.

“I’m really happy I’m spending New Years with you this year.” 

He makes you feel like flying that it feels like you need to hold onto him to keep you grounded. With bated breath, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him. It’s hard to express how grateful you are for him, so you hope that your thoughts get closer to his heart if you hug him like this. 

Minho jumps back in surprise, hand gingerly resting against your hip for a split second before wrapping his arms fully around your waist and pulling you closer to him. His fingers dig into your skin gently in a warm embrace. 

7…6…5…

Minho’s gesture is still taking root in your heart, everything he’s done for you from the moment you met, and all the things he continues to do. It’s all still processing in your head when something registers in your head. Blood rushes to your ears at the realization. This can’t be right. 

A million thoughts rush through your head. Maybe it began with a few brushes of contact, so fleeting that if you blink, you’ll miss it—a hand on your back, a shoulder brushing against yours, thighs pressed together. Maybe it was in your stomach, the butterflies fluttering around that you had thought you’d imagined. Maybe it was in your heart, in its constant thrumming and the unidentifiable nudge you felt once in a while.

4…3…2…

You look up at your best friend, taking a good look at the small smile on his face. When he catches you staring, his mouth morphs into a smirk, but it doesn’t look as teasing as it usually does. His features are softened. You think it might be in how gentle his eyes look, gaze so soft. 

There’s a look on his face when he looks at you, and you only realize it now—the look he reserves for his cats, and his stupid pudding. There is no better feeling than having the hope of reciprocation.

1…

“Happy New Year, loser.” He mumbles, and the way he’s smiling down at you right now could mute all the fireworks decorating the sky. 

Oh no. 

You’re falling in love again. 

twelve.

Spring arrives overnight, like an unexpected guest. With each budding flower and unfurling petals and the chirps of birds early in the morning, you’re only reminded that things do get better. Spring’s sudden flurry signifies the coming of change in a sweet promise of healing. The barren branches of winter snow now adorn young flowers

You do nothing about your feelings for three months, allowing them to cement themselves deeply into your heart until you’re sure of how you feel. But you’re unsure if you can keep it in anymore, not when the petals of cherry blossoms float around Minho who’s walking next to you, like he always does. 

It feels different, like there has always been a premonition of love sitting on your chest until it was the right moment. Like the young flowers growing from the barren branches of the winter snow, you feel your heart adorn a feeling that is blossoming.

It’s quiet, save from your footsteps and the rustling of petals around you. His eyes glisten with a certain warmth that no one can replicate, and it’s something you’ve grown familiar with. A confession is brewing in your throat, and you try to make it look like your mind isn’t reeling. You fail to consider the way Minho knows you like the back of his hand, watching you closely as your brows furrow purposefully. 

“Something on your mind?”

The prospect of confessing to your best friend is scary, almost uncharted territory. The realization that you’ve fallen in love once again is even scarier. Your first love had left you with a kind of sadness that took some time to recover from, but being with Minho had made you believe in everything again, at a time when you thought your whole world had crashed down on you, at a time when you thought you’d never feel this way again. 

He makes you happy, so screw everything else. Screw that fear. There is nothing else to do, but—

“I think I like you. No, I think I…” You blurt out, stabbing the silence.

The word is sitting on your throat, but it’s much harder to say out loud. Minho’s eyes widen, caught off guard by your words. He feels the need to reassure you, can see the way you’re bruising yourself over being unable to say it.

“Hey, you don’t have to say it right now.” 

“But I do. And I… I need— I need to know how you feel… about me.” Your voice grows significantly quieter. You try to maintain eye contact, but it’s a little difficult when he’s looking at you like that. Doe eyes and soft lips parted. 

He meets your eyes, as if searching for something. He looks so entirely Minho that it has your heart tumbling.

“I love you.”

“I… What?” Your heart fills with hope.

“I love you.” He says so easily, as if they had been words sitting in his mouth for a very long time. You look into his eyes, searching for any sign that would indicate any teasing, but you don’t find anything. You only find a type of genuineness and softness unique to him, when he’s stripping himself vulnerable in his truth. 

“Do you really mean that?” Your breath is shallow, staring at him straight in the eye. You step closer to where he’s standing.

“I do.” Minho’s face visibly relaxes. “Ever since you visited my house for the first time and met Soonie, Doongie, and Dori.”

You remember that day as if it was yesterday. He’d been so excited to finally let you meet his cats, bag slung over his back as he tugged you towards his door. He’d stopped and stared when you crouched down to his cats’ heights, pulling out a few treats you had bought for them when Minho had told you you’d be meeting them. You thought nothing of it, nothing of the way his eyes flicker from you to his pets, lips curved into a small smile and eyes softening significantly. And then you realize that had been years ago. He had been in love with you for years.

“But that was… that was way before. That was…” You stutter over your own words, unable to believe that he had been harboring these emotions for such a long time, far longer than you could fathom.

“And I have loved you every single day after. Even when you wore those god awful bright red parts almost everyday.” He says, taking your hands in his. You snort at the memory. 

“Minho, stop joking around.” 

“Me? Joking around? I would never.” He brings your hands to his lips and presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “I’ve loved you, and I’ve loved past those pants, and your snot when you cry, and when you were puking over your toilet after drinking for the first time, and the crumbs you leave on my couch when you eat your chips.”

A soft laugh escapes you, and you jut your lips out in recollection of every single memory. He mirrors your laughter, eyes forming crescents. He’s been so good at hiding how you make him feel, but maybe if you looked close enough, you would’ve seen it. 

“Now you’re just embarrassing me.” 

“Hmm, but I love you.” 

You crack a smile, even though it feels like you’re about to cry from the way your heart is aching from the overwhelmingness of Minho’s softness. It doesn’t take long before the tears start to form, laughter cracking in a stubborn way when a bubble forms in your throat. 

“What are you doing? Are you crying?” He teases, letting go of your hands so he can hold your face in his hands, so he can see you better. There’s no need to answer him when it’s painfully obvious by the way he swipes at the tears on the corner of your eyes. 

“I’m not!” You sniffle, letting your hands rest atop of his that’s still cupping your face. “Stop looking at me. This is so embarrassing.” 

“Even more embarrassing than when you cried over milk when we were doing groceries?” He murmurs, thumb stroking up and down your cheeks and lips brushing over your face that it makes your heart contract.

“Okay, we don’t have to bring that back.” You pout, trying to will the tears away from your eyes. You fail, but it does make Minho laugh. “Why didn’t… If you loved me for so long, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“Because you were hurting. And I’ll always be your best friend before someone who’s been in love with you.” His words take root in your heart, injecting itself as he leans in even closer. Now you feel all soft and putty in his hands. 

“Do you really mean all this?” You’re having a hard time believing that any of this could be true. Your voice falters as you speak, staring into his eyes but all he was fixated on was your lips. 

“Mhm. I love you. Get used to it because I’m never saying this again.” His eyes light up, and it squeezes your heart. Then, his eyes flutter closed and he pulls you gently to his lips, finally closing the distance and allowing himself to fall into you freely, in the open. It’s slow and sweet, and it almost makes you tumble that you have to hold onto his shoulders to keep yourself standing.

He kisses you like he wants you to feel the love he’s kept locked up just for you, and you think you imagine the whimper that falls from his lips against yours. Minho keeps his hands on your cheeks, unable to touch you anywhere else, unable to act out on how in love he is with you. So, he keeps kissing you, and kissing you until he can cement every detail into his head. 

When you break away from the kiss, he doesn’t fight back the giddy smile on his face, he doesn’t mask the softness he’d bared himself in front of you. Minho only rests his forehead against yours, leaning down to press a few kisses to your face. 

You’ve never been this happy, never felt more love than in this moment. Second loves don’t get as much credit for the way they’re able to rebuild a heart you thought would be shattered for a long time. They don’t get enough recognition for the way they teach you that maybe your first love hadn’t been your first love after all. That maybe everything was meant to happen to lead you down a single winding path towards Minho’s heart. Maybe this has always been your predetermined destination.

In a few months, summer will come again, and you’ll be ready to move past the seasons with Minho, the way it was always meant to be. 

note. u have made it to the end !!! let me know what you think :’) i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it 

[evmrellie]

Labyrinth | s.r x gn!reader

summary: You're scared about your feelings for Spencer. Insp by labyrinth from Taylor Swift.

genre: fluffly and hurt/comfort. pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader (I'm a girl so I wrote going on this way, but I think I didn't gave any descriptions abt being one, so it's totally safe for gn!readers <333 if I did, I'm sorry, I didn't notice.) words: 1,3K warnings: family issues, inexperienced!reader, reader never being in a relationship before, insecurity, anxiety, mention of toxic relationships (not between reader and anyone else) notes: hiii, this is my first oneshot so plss be nice 😭✋🏻 im not used to write like this, but I'm so obsessed with Spencer and I had this idea and I couldn't just let go. English it's not my first language, so forgive me if any mistakes or if u guys don't understand smth. not proofread. hope you guys like it !! <3

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

You've never trusted relationships, not that you had experienced any, but what you saw growing up? What you were used to? Didn't make you want to get into one in the first place.

You never denied that you've dreamed about that; finding a true love and a nice, healthy relationship since you saw all your friends living it. That hurted you a little, but you learned how to live with it.

Breathe in, breathe through

Breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be getting over you my whole life

You tried to catch your breath, adjusting it as much as possible. You were used to unlearn the ability of breathing when you were around people who made you nervous, especially if you had a slightly crush on them. Actually, you unlearn every normal thing that humans do when they interact, it's like a part of your brain stops working and refused to turn it on again. He loved to make you embarrassed, especially in front of pretty nerd ish boys.

The first time you met Spencer it consumed all of your brain chemistry. Day and night making fantasies of how it would be meeting the boy again with the help of destiny, falling in love and maybe being obsessed with you the same way you were with him. But you knew that it was just a fantasy and it would never happen, it was just your brain trying to distract you from the real world and your real problems.

It was a nice escape though.

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

Everything happened so fast in your time vision, it terrified you of how easy he was able to get through it. You were always scared of relationships because, yeah, it was nice and easy to fantasy about it, but to actually live it? That scared the shit out of you. All your Inexperience, insecurities and traumas couldn't be fixed from one day to another.

Everything that you learned from your parents was that if you dived in too quickly, it would be a mistake. Not only from your parents, but also from people you were close to, seeing their relationship rise too fast and going effortlessly and awfully down.

You never understood why they keept doing it, sinking into the same situation over and over again, sometimes with the same or a different guy. How they kept being pulled and compelled by it? You didn't understand because you never felt it.

It was so scary how relationships could rise so fast and sink at the same speed.

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

You understood why they kept like that in the worst — best— way possible.

When it first hit you that you were falling in love with Spencer felt like a harsh slap in your face, leaving red bruises and a terrible burning in. You didn't want to accept it, it was frightening to actually let it in.

Was getting hard with the passing time, he wasn't getting any easier and neither were his loving and caring acts. I mean, how could someone like him be so.. careful with you? You felt like a broken piece who would never be loved and receive this kinda of treatment, it was starting to confuse you.

You knew he wasn't the type of person who liked being touched or touching other ones, but with you? Every possibility of being close to you, hugging you, touching your hand and giving a sweet cuddle in that same spot was driving you insane. He made sure that any free time he had, he spent with you. Or even at work, in his free time that he used to call you.

Reid talked to you about his mom and his abandonment issues with his father so openly that made you open yourself with him too. You didn't want to scare him telling him about your family situation or make him think you're a weird, problematic person, but you couldn't let him vent to you and not say a thing. He hasn't change with you. In fact, it only bought you both closer.

You ended up accepting what you felt for him, you didn't want to fight against it, deep down was a comfort feeling. For the first time you felt what everyone around you always talked about. And oh god, it really was an amazing feeling. But no, you would never tell him that. The thought of how this could end so fast after telling him that because probably it wasn't reciprocal, hurted you so bad that keeping it to yourself was the best decision you could make.

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His voice called you off of your own thoughts, his Cheshire Cat smile growing as he saw your face turning into a shade of burgundy.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like a deer lost in the headlights.” He snorted a laugh.

“What?! I'm not-“

He interrupted you, getting up from the chair where he was lost doing his usual puzzles. Spencer walked over to you, resting one of his hands on your face while the other one brushed away a few strands of hair that fell into your eyes. You automatically snuggled your face between Spencer's hands, smirking and closing your eyes, enjoying the gentle caress his fingers made on your cheeks.

“Tell me, please.” He begged you, you could easily hear the smile into his words. He was always so polite, it made you want to scream into a pillow and kick your feets in the air.

You sighed, tired to hide how you felt.

“Honestly? About you. I think I already fell for you.”

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

You were scared of his reaction, to look at him and see his eyes falling in pity for you; About him suddenly telling you to go home because he didn't felt the same and saying that this wouldn't work between you two. But to be honest, you couldn't hide anymore, not for him and not for yourself. You needed to break free from this labyrinth you created on your mind, there's no way you could keep up with this and stay cool like it didn't made your chest burn everytime you looked at him.

He surprised you by just laughing softly.

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

“Well, i’m pretty sure i am terriefiedly in love with you.”

You swore that if this was a joke you would combust and turn into a million pieces of yourself, no one would ever find you again.

Your eyes caught up at his sparkling hazel irises that conveyed how much he begged for the same answer. You always felt something carving like a dagger inside your chest when he looked at you like that, like you could break him with any wrong do.

It was absolutely terrifying how easy he broke you to this, to this situation where you could never lie and deny that you felt the exactly same for him. You were head over heels for him. Not in a million of worlds you could imagine that Spencer Reid felt the same thing you did for him, but you were also pretty sure that you were the one who would end up with the heart completely shattered if this ever come to an end.

“I love you so much, Spence.” You said, and then his lips parted open and you were able to feel his sweet taste coming into yours.

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER day 4

pairing: witch!wanda x fem!reader

summary: trick or treat? definitely a treat!

warnings: smut!!!, dark!wanda, dubcon!!, anal, overstimulation, edging, grooping, kinda voyeurism, inserting tentacles, over all dark themes! if you find anything else - I’ll add it!

words count: 3.6k

an: to be honest im not really sure what i did here, umm this fic was written with the biggest block ever, so I do apologize, also it wasn’t proofread, so yeah

(italics = your thoughts)

!MDNI!

Enjoy this spooky time and be safe!

"I´m coming! Just a minute," was heard on the other side of the door as soon as you knocked. Every second bring your body more anxiety, so you try to shake it off by fidgeting with your ring.

After few minutes the door finally opens - and a pretty tall lady, with red hair and aboslutely georgous black dress smiles at you. Your eyes scan her whole look under a second and you look back into her eyes. Her emerald green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, glisten with a captivating emotion. Her gaze is drawing you in with a mysterious charm. These stunning green eyes seem to reflect the beauty, but also the mystery that comes with the readhead infront of you.

"Trick or treat!" you say as you smile back at her.

"Oh sweetheart," now it´s her turn to look you up and down. Her smile is raplaced by a confusion. "um... and what are you supposed to be?" The redhead tilts her head.

"I- uh a witch." You try to answer with confidence, as you bring your wand up to show her your full fit.

You wouldn´t win an award for the best costume this Halloween, but you tried and everything is homemade, so you should definitely get some bonus points for that. Full black outfit with some spider webs around your torso sounded like a good idea, but maybe it was really hard to tell who are you trying to be.

"Oh- i see now." She nods, but you can see the disappointment in her face. She throws some candy into your bag, but you notice right away that it was only a licorice sweets, which is the worst thing she could give you. "Where is the rest of your group?" She asks as she looks behind you as if she´s waiting for someone else to come.

"Uh... it´s just me. No one wanted to go with me, since they think my outfit sucks." You sigh as you look down, deep down feeling like they might be right.

"Oh no, sweetheart. None of that." She steps closer and her soft fingers touches your chin, lifting it for you to make eye contact with her. "How about I´ll help you with your outfit and at the end of the night you´ll have every candy you ever dreamed off?" Her fingers gently caressing your chin.

"Really?" Your eyes spark with excitement. So much excitement.

"Come on in." The redhead let go of your chin and steps away from the door so you can come inside.

"Thank youuu-" Your eyes met hers again.

"Please call me Wanda." She smiles.

"Thank you, Wanda." You smile back.

As you come inside you can notice that her house is magnificent, everywhere you look you can see architectural details and many ornate decorations, especially on the stairs. It feels kinda like a labyrinth of richly hued tapestries, ornamental vases, and mirrors that capture the light just perfectly. Every corner of the house is a organized, with towering bookshelves that look like a billion dollars worth collection of books, with lots of knowlage in them. The overall ambiance is like a old charm, a sensations of history and elegance. To be honest you wouldn´t be shocked if an 150 old lady lived here, not a beautiful young lady like Wanda.

"Ohh so you like witches too?" You look through her library, reading some of her book titles.

Spells - and everything that comes with them, Spreading your power, Flying around the world: positions, Potions - third edition (extremly addicting)...

Wanda hums as she watches you being interest in her books. "I wrote most of them myself." She says, her voice was still sweet, but you could hear the little harsh tone she added to it, raspy growl with an accent, once subtle and charming, and now pronounced and intense. But you couldn´t put the accent anywhere, maybe somewhere in Europe? East? West? You really didn´t know where to point.

"So you´re an author?" You turn to her.

"You could say that, yeah." Wanda nods.

"That is so cool," you mumbled as something weird and pitch black caught your eye. It was a really dark book, more like a journal that definetly had some history, "what´s that?" you took it from the shelf.

"That is a something like my personal journal." The readhead steps closer to you.

"Oh sorry, I didn´t meant to invade your privacy!" Her hand fall on yours as you wanted to put the book back, where you took it.

"It´s okay, I don´t have any secrets. You can read it." Wanda smiles again.

As you open the book you notice that even her handwriting is so neat and beautiful. It suits her somehow, but as you continue to flip the pages her writing went from tall and pretty to harsh and short. Reading few sentences seem like a good idea, since you had Wanda´s approval. Your face went from smile to confussion real quick. But then it hit you. The woman infront of you you, known as Wanda, is a witch. Despite this revelation, you find yourself not scared but rather intrigued by the truth.

This whole time Wanda was looking at you, waiting for you to speak first.

"So... you´re also a witch?" You try to ease the situations by a joke.

"Also?" She chuckles. "Darling, this poor outfit looks on you more like a trash bag then a costume." Her words hurts. More than you want to admit.

Is my outfit really that shitty?

"Do you want an honest answer, sweetheart?" She steps closer.

Oh so she can read minds now, great.

"I can do more than just read minds." Her accent is very strong by now.

"I- can you not read my mind?" You look at her, noticing she got really close to you.

"Your thoughts are really loud, sweetheart. It´s kinda hard to resist." She almost whispers.

Are they? I can´t think- how do i stop thinking? Oh she´s really close. I don´t mind that. Fuck. (Y/N), not now. I would take her. On a walk, definetly on a walk. No in other way.

Wanda just laughs at your poor tries at calming down your thoughts. "Im glad you´re not afraid of me. That will ease things."

What things? Am I afraid? No. Maybe a little. Who knows? She does.

"Well helping with your new outfit, silly. Which will also help you make more sweets throughout the night."

"Oh! Right!" You nod, immediately following her to her living room, you guess.

You both enter the living room, a space illuminated by the warm, flickering light of few lit candles. Your eyes caught a few wine glasses, each bearing the mark of different shades of lipstick on the enormous wooden table. However, your attention remains fixed on Wanda, who is eager to assist you in making your new Halloween costume.

"Sit over there and I´ll bring some stuff." Wanda smiles and with that she leaves the living room.

You get bored very easily so not even after two minutes you´re on your feet again, glancing around the room. Your eyes are drawn to a paintings adorning the walls. Each canvas is a totally different theme. A dark landscape with rolling hills and a small lake makes you to step into its peaceful scene. Beside it, a bold, abstract burst with vibrant colors, evoking a sense of energy and excitement, which is something you definitely wouldn´t put in a place like this. The figurative portrait of a dark figure seems to watch over the place, which freaks you out a little, since you feel like it´s watching every single one of your steps, even though you can´t really see its face. As you watch these paintings, you don´t even hear Wanda come back.

"I thought I told you to sit over there." Her tone was once again very harsh, which made you feel like a kid that didn´t listen to their mother.

"Sorry, I was just admiring art." You shrug as you sit back, where you were in the first place.

Wanda didn´t say anything, she just started to take things from her bag and list through a book. "Here it is! This will definitely earn you bags full of sweets." She looks at you. "If you´re still in?"

"Yes, of course!" You nod and before you even fully stand up Wanda push you back down with her magic. "Oh wow, that was... so cool." You smile as you notice the red mist flying around.

Wanda smiles at your fascination and comes closer to you. "I need you to close your eyes and trust me, can you do that?" She tilts her head.

"Yes, Wanda. I can do that, if I´ll have a lots of sweets by the end of the night, I will do it!" Your eyes are sparking with bigger excitement than before as you imagine all the chocolate you will eat.

"Okay." She helps you lay down on the couch, which feels really soft on your skin and it makes you close your eyes instantly. "Good, just no matter what, I need you to have your eyes closed, I want it to be surprise." Wanda´s whispers trailing right down your spine.

"I love surprises, I will keep my eyes closed, I promie. Pinky promise!" With your closed eyes you held out a pinky. Almost punching her in the face, but she quickly dodge it. Wanda just smiles at your antics and extends her pinky to make a promise with you.

It took you one more shift on the couch to feel fully comfortable. "I´m ready." You mumble to let Wanda know, even though she can read your mind. Right after the magic start to float around once again.

You feel a lot of silly sensations right away, it feels like a tickling, which in fact makes you giggle out loud. "Tickles!" You say between the laughs.

"I know, it will be just a minute, darling." She smirks, knowing that the tickling feeling is just her magic taking your clothes fully off. At the same time Wanda reagulates your body tempeture with her spells, so you don´t feel even the slightest changes.

The ticklings stops and you fully relax on the couch again, taking a deep breath in and out. Nothing is happening for a few minutes, so it´s very tempting to open your eyes and look what´s going on.

Did she left? Um... should I-

"Absolutly not! If you can´t keep your eyes closed I´ll help you with that too, since I believe you can´t do anything on your own." Wanda scoffs and slides a blindfold over your head. Even if you tried opening your eyes now, you would see pitch black.

The spells and magic start to float around again, red mist tangling around your body. Wanda just sits in her fluffy chair on the other side of the living room. Glass with red wine in her hand as she watches you with hunger in her eyes.

As you open your mouth to talk, you let out a moan. You suddenly feel a warm rush of embarrassment wash over you, your cheeks turning a shade of crimson. It's as if a spotlight has been directed on your momentary lapse, and you can sense the weight of her eyes on you. You fumble for words and wish for a way to disappear into the floor, but the awkwardness lingers.

You feel something touching your body, something that is soft, yet very hard. A delightful sensation begins to spread across your entire body, as if invisible hands are gently caressing your skin. It's like a soothing, expertly executed massage, relaxation and comfort. This wave of bliss sweeps through you, releasing tension and stress with every touch, and you surrender to the embrace of calm that envelops you.

What the hell is that?

"What is what, darling?" Wanda asks, you can hear her voice on the other side of the room, so she can´t be the one touching you. "Oh that? It is just measuring spell, for your outfit to fit perfectly, sweetheart."

"O-okay." You kinda whine out. "I thought that-"

"Oh don´t be silly!" She laughs. "Just stay still." She adds with her raspiness again.

You´re staying still as much as you can. The sensations coursing through your body are unraveling the knots of tension that once held you captive. Muscle melting into a state of pure relaxation. Each touch seems to release a sigh of relief from deep within, and you sink further into a state of blissful repose. "I need you to be relaxed, otherwise it´s not going to fit, darling." Wanda adds.

Fit? Fit what?

"All the accessories." Once again she answer your inner question.

Wanda felt like you were ready and like you can and will take whatever she give you as a addiction to your costume.

You can feel something spreading your legs a bit and moving you little of the couch. The warm feeling never leaving your body, it´s the other way around actually, it´s just increasing. It’s weird how come you can feel a touch all around your body, when Wanda is on the other side of the room. You can hear her cutting out some cloth and time to time her soft humming.

"Oh my god-" you yelp as you can feel something wet between your legs.

How come I´m this wet? Did I pee myself? Oh my god! What is going on?

"Everything okay, darling?" Wanda asks as she´s looking at your hips, slowly going up and down. Your pussy is leaking and she didn´t even touch you.

"Yes! All good!" You´re hoping you´re just feeling things, but Wanda would already say something if things wouldn´t be okay. So it is just silly feelings. Oh you know what it is, it´s the little axienty from being blindfolded, now it make sense. You’re just anxious.

Wanda listen to your thoughs as she´s having the time of her life. It´s time for the actual fun to begin. She extends her hands, conjuring four crimson, ethereal tentacles of pure energy. These serpentine tentacles undulate, glowing with the passionate and dangerous red hue, slowly extending toward their target, you. It's a captivating display of Wanda's magical skills, a vivid manifestation of her power.

As each of them lay on you, you can feel a little wetness, that sticks to you right away. It feels... good. Really good. Whatever measuring device this is, you want to feel it in you-

'Your wish is my command' is Wanda´s first thought. One of the tentacles are slowly teasing you on your inner thighs. Moving slowly up and down your leg. "I need to measure your thighs, darling. Just to make sure your costume is the perfect size. Just give me a moment." She say from the other corner of the room, sipping on her wine.

How come I can feel her, when she´s over there?

Your thoughts are quickly swap away as you feel something really hard enter your already drenched pussy. And before you can think things through, you felt absolutely nothing in your head, just pleasure. The world seems to align perfectly with Wanda´s and yours desires, creating a warm and euphoric feeling, gentle you could say. Or moan at the current state your in.

You feel like your in a dream. A very good one may Wanda add.

The enormous thing is going in and out of you like it was nothing. Wanda´s eyes are on you as she watches in awe how you didn´t resist at all. How naive you´ve been the whole time. How come little thing like you survived for such a long time in this cruel and scary world by yourself? It´s a miracle and Wanda already knows she can´t risk your well being any much longer. It is just the right time for someone to take care of you. And she´s doing a really good job at it.

As you think nothing can make you feel better, you feel the same wetness that is going in and out of you, sliding up and down your ass. Subconsciously you move, so your in better position for whatever is coming. And trust Wanda, there is always something coming.

It´s way slower and more gentle. Your mind is waiting only for one thing, a slight push. But Wanda wants to tease you for little bit, she wants your body to beg for it, when your head is too foggy to do so. You don´t feel embarrassed anymore, you don´t care. You need everything that Wanda will give you.

Wanda is still sipping on her wine as she watches you struggle, but she is feeling generous tonight, especially when she found you in this poor state, scared, weak, but mostly alone with no one who would saved you, but that will change, starting tonight at this moment.

She let her magic finally push in. As one tentacle is going in and out your pussy at the speed of light, the other one is sliding out of your ass so slow, that you start to move your hips for more. The third tentacle is slowly making its way to your clit, making you feel overstimulated.

And if Wanda was afraid you´ll be overthinking too much, now she knows you won´t ever think again. The sight of you, ruining her expensive couch with your juices is something she will make you do often. Because this is what you´ve been made to do.

You´re close and your voice is cracking from all the screaming you did tonight, Wanda finally stands up, putting her glass on the table and walks over to you, her hand finally touching you and going up and down your stomach as her red tentacles doing their own job. When her hand touches you, it's like a soothing embrace, that is also very harsh. You can feel the warmth radiating from her touch. In that moment, the outside world fades completly away, leaving you with the sensation of her touch.

She knows your close and she would love to see you fall apart, but she knows she can´t rush things. So after few squeezes of your tits and light pinch to each of your nipples, she stops. Completely. Everything. All of her magic disappearing and she makes a step back.

If you´d had any energy left you would scream, but right now, you´re just shaking on her couch. As the cold sensation envelops you, it's as if a thick dark fog descends upon your mind. The chill seeps into your thoughts, causing confusion and a sense of detachment. This cold, fuzzy feeling blurs your senses and creates an unsettling disconnect from the warmth and clarity you once knew. This is totally different from your fuzzy mind before, because at that time you were in pleasure, but now? You don´t have even that.

After a few minutes of you just laying there Wanda takes off your blindfold and you´re back in some clothes, that feels very soft. You blink a few times.

"What´s wrong, darling? You don´t like the new costume I made you?" She shushes you and wipe your falling tears. You look down, touching your new outfit, that honestly looks way better than the one you made yourself. You've got a long, black, flowing dress and a purple cloak with cool silver designs next to you. "I assumed you wouldn´t want a hat, since you didn´t had one earlier. But I made you this..." She gave you a small version of her pitch black journal.

"I- um..." You´re still shaken up from what happened before.

But what even happened before?

"You fell asleep, silly. It was hard to put those on, but look at you now!" Wanda smiles.

I slept?

"You had an intesne dream?" Wanda looks at you with concern and all you could do is just nod.

After a few minutes of complete silence Wanda comes back with a big bag full of sweets.

"Oh my god!" And your little mind is now occupied with sweets. Everything is good now.

"It´s all yours... like I´ve said. Your new outfit will make you bag full of your favorites." Wanda smiles and hands you the bag.

"Oh my god, thank you!" You take it without a beat.

"No, I thank you, darling. You know where to find me if you want more." Wanda winks and you feel this ache between your legs.

"I- uh huh." You nod once again.

As Wanda closed the door behind you, she knew right away, that you will be back soon. She needs you to come back by yourself, if she captured you now, it wouldn’t do a single good. And till that time, her magic will follow you everywhere, to make sure her new thing is safe. And that your mind is always occupied by really important things.

Wanda comes into the living room to clean, she looks at the couch that is still very wet and as she´s in her head a group of people appears behind her.

"How the hell do you always do this, Maximoff?" A tall blonde asks with jealousy in her voice.

"You always have the most naive ones and they literally come to you!" Other lady snarks.

Wanda smiles and turns around. "Well I think that this one will be open for some sharing. Literally." She smirks at her own joke.

Knock knock.

Wanda opens the door and to her surprise it´s you.

"Hai, um... i was thinking- I really like this one chocolate, but i found only one in the bag you gave me so uh, do you have maybe another one? I can trade it for something!" You smile at her.

Wanda is just looking at you with smile on her face. As you came way sooner and she doesn’t know what to say.

"Of course! We have plenty of those here and we will happily trade it with you for something else!" The blonde one almost pushed Wanda out of the way.

"Great! Thanks!" You happily walked back in.

Let´s just say, that after that night you had every sweet you ever wished for. And they had their own.

Oooof this was something. I need to get my writing spirit back, cuz this ain’t it.

Anyways thank you for reading!!!

[rfswitchart]

Obligatory Huntlow post for ASIAS anniversary

So, I might as well do an anniversary post for Any Sport in a Storm, shouldn't I?

Pop quiz: When did Willow Park fall in love with the Golden Guard? There's a lot of answers you COULD say for this. Maybe she started realizing it when they were in the Human Realm. Maybe she realized when he grabbed her out of the sky or was in the detention pit with him.....

You COULD say that.... but you'd be wrong. She realized it the moment Hunter stood between the Entrails and Darius. "Wait, how do you know that?" you might ask. Simple. Because as a writer of 25 years and someone who has had many crushes and relationships... I know that kind of body language and tone of voice well.

"After all, it will be 52 weeks until 'Caleb's' next day off..." Note the way she SAID that. Sly, coy, definite tongue in cheek. The way she's looking over her shoulder back towards him. I mean COME ON, there's a heart shaped cloud just above her head. Hearts being between the two of them is a big tell for that. It's called THEMING. "Ok, but that's just one moment..." Au contraire, did you think I'd come into this with one example? Remember, I WROTE THIS ALREADY. Now, pop quiz #2: Why did Hunter, who had only ever met Willow ONCE know the difference between the real and fake one?

After all, there is no way he could have known that after just one encounter. You can not determine a person's entire personality based on a sole encounter, no matter how much of an impression it left on you. The answer, again, is simple...

Because they had been talking over Penstagram since ASIAS. Probably took a while due to Hunter not being used to typing and stuff, but I cannot imagine they weren't talking since that night. It also explains why Willow trusted him so easily during the scout invasion of Hexside. Because it couldn't JUST be the breathing technique that swayed her. After all, Hunter had lied and betrayed her and her friends before.

...Again with the hearts. THEMING! Anyway, even if we discredit ASIAS and Labyrinth Runners, or how she totally went to kill Kikimora for trying to hurt 'him' (and stopped when she could have hurt him) and ran after 'him' specifically when 'he' was captured (remember, it was Luz, she just THOUGHT it was Hunter) Fine, let's forget all that then...

Because even if you discount those things, she definitely had a thing for him while they were trapped in the human realm. How do I know? Ok, time to teach you kids about flirting 101.

"I'm gonna borrow that book when you're done with it! ;)" She's not saying "I want to read that" because she's curious about Cosmic Frontier. She is saying "I want to know more about your interests," and saying it with a tone that says "I want to turn this into a date if I can." Even before when she's taking a picture and shutting down Amity's snarking on Hunter's costume, her body language, her words, her tone. They are all suggesting there's more than just 'friendship' there. When it comes to flirting, it is not WHAT you say, it is HOW you say it.

Also, while I'm on the subject. Willow is canonically Pansexual, she is not Ace. Also, she is not Demi/aromantic, she is heavily guarded and has trust issues from years of bullying and nearly everyone looking down on her or using her as emotional support. I have the same problem for the same reasons, and I know for a fact I am not aro. I am guarded because I've been hurt before, same as Willow. Hunter is the only one who ISN'T like that.

He doesn't see her as weak and frail, he doesn't rely on her for stuff, and he wouldn't be caught dead hurting her or looking down on her. That is HIS captain, and he'll be damned if he won't see her as anything short of incredible. And boy did he let her know that, more than once.

Anyways, sorry for rambling. Let's all appreciate these two amazing, powerful witches who really do compliment each other's lives.

[storm-angel989]

Don’t try to force yourself to make content, okay? Self care is way more important than putting stuff out, even if it makes others happy! Us fans will gladly wait until you’re mentally and emotionally ready!😉 Also drink water and eat real food, not just snacks!!!

Hi Friend,

Thank you so, so much for your kind words- I read your message as soon as it popped into my inbox and I did exactly as you said <3 I took the weekend, had some real food, rode a few horses and all of the sudden, a story I've been working on clicked (and I wrote a few more!)

As with all things, I expect it to ebb and flow but I appreciate everyones love, care a support more than words can express! Please enjoy below story and thank you again so so much for your love and patience!

<3 Mandy

Angel recognized the sound, and apparently Valentino did too. 

The noise in itself was a concern. But it was Valentino’s reaction to it that interested Angel the most. In the middle of what was supposed to be an important shoot, Angel watched Valentino rush off down the darkened hallway only to reappear moments later with a look on his face Angel couldn’t quite distinguish. Softness, maybe? Whatever it was, it disappeared the moment Valentino sat back down.

“Angel, what the fuck are you doing?” Valentino snarled as he raked his glowing eyes over the set. “Lay down and read the fucking lines.” 

As with all things, Angel obeyed. 

Now, as Angel stood in the entryway to his dressing room, that same noise from the week prior floated down from the hallway. Soft, childlike giggles in an empty studio. A sense of unease washed over Angel.  As abusive as Valentino was, he still had boundaries- and allowing kids in his studio was a hard one. Surely, Angel had to be hearing things. Maybe an actor or actress with a childlike voice. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. If there was, in fact, a kid running around in here it would be easy to get lost. Hell, sometimes he even found himself turned around and he had spent years here. 

Hesitantly, Angel walked down the familiar labyrinth of halls and rooms. 

“Hello?” he called out softly. 

Silence answered him.

“I have gotta stop drinkin before shoots,” he muttered to himself as he turned away.

“Papi?” A girlish voice came from behind him. “Papi!” 

Angel jumped and whirled around as tiny arms grabbed at his waist. Blonde hair, blue eyes, human like- Angel couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He opened his mouth to ask her who she was, but she began before he could get a word in.

“You’re not Daddy. You’re a stranger,” the child shouted as she jerked away from him. “I want Daddy.” 

Angel bit back his surprise. “Does..does your Daddy have a name?”

“Daddy.” 

Of course. Typical kid answer. Angel wracked his brain as memories flooded through. Images of his own baby sister, from his human life, floated through. Painful reminders of a distant past he tried to keep pushed down. With a deep breath, he knelt down to her level. 

“Okay kid, what does your daddy look like?”

“Daddy is tall. And he wears heart shaped glasses. And a big cozy red coat. But only when he goes to work. And I think this is Daddy’s work.” She answered confidently.

Angel felt his stomach drop. Val had a kid? Fuck, Val had a daughter? Shit. What should he do now? If he brought her back to Valentino, would he get punished? Forced to work extra hours for daring to find out his secret? But as he looked at the little girl, the sinking feeling grew sharper. He couldn’t leave her here. It wasn’t safe. And if he tried to send her back to where she came from, she’d probably end up lost- or worse. Seeing no other option, Angel took a deep breath.

“Come with me then, kid I’ll take you to yer dad. You got a name?” He offered her his hand. 

To his surprise, the little girl took it and walked next to him. “Reader. What’s yours?”

“Angel,” he replied as he focused on the hallway ahead. The feeling of her small hand in his, the familiarity of a tiny voice, a little human by his side. Flashes of his own past, his human life. Painful fragments that shattered through his mind like glass shards. He tried to swallow them back with each step they took towards Valentino’s office. 

“Daddy!” 

The little girl’s yell jerked Angel back to attention. He let go of her hand as she raced across the empty studio and to his shock, she jumped into Valentino’s arms. Angel watched as the overlord of lust and depravity wrapped the little girl up and kissed her on the forehead. 

“Bebita princessa, where were you? You have your Uncle Vox all worried!” Valentino scolded in a voice Angel had never heard him use before. 

“You promised Daddy! You promised a piggy back ride and you left!” She shrieked in response as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You promised!” 

Angel thought for sure Valentino would hit her. Or at the very least, scold her the same way he did his employees. Instead, he watched Valetnino’s expression soften. 

“I know mi amore, I’m sorry,” he told her, “but you have to go up to Uncle Vox now, Papi has to work. Later tonight, I promise.” 

Suddenly, as if he instantly became aware Angel was watching, he jerked his head up. Their eyes met and Angel couldn’t read the expression on Valentino’s face. Anger? Appreciation? 

“So, uh, you have a kid?” Angel asked as he crossed his arms. “I, uh, found her in the back. Down the hallway. She was lookin for ya.” 

Valentino’s expression changed to one Angel knew inherently well. Cold, merciless impassion. 

“If you tell anyone, I will fucking kill you,” he stated. “Don’t think I won’t.” 

That, Angel didn’t doubt. He opened his mouth to promise he wouldn’t, but before he could get a word in, Reader’s voice floated through the empty room. 

“Daddy? What’s fucking mean?” 

Angel watched as Valentino’s expression went from cold to…unsure? Uneasy? Angel couldn’t tell. 

“I, uh, don’t worry about it baby, it’s,” Valentino stammered.

“An adult word. Only adults can use it,” Angel answered quickly. 

To Angel’s surprise, Valentino looked relieved at his explanation. The ping of the elevator and Valentino turned away. 

“Angel. Don’t be here when I get back.” Valentino said sharply. “I’ll call you when I need you again.”

“Does that mean I get the night off?” Angel called to the retreating figure. 

No answer. Angel shrugged and back in his dressing room, he pulled on his jacket. Might as well spend the rest of the night at the hotel. After all, Fat Nuggets could use a little extra attention.

[madame-fear]

mmkayyyy now time for angsts 🤝

you and enzo know each other best. even after your next break-up with your most recent partner, he is the first person you call.

𐙚 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄, 𝐈𝐅 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔.ᐣ

ೀ amira speaks.ᐟ : on god,, author is self cringing at this, circus music pleaseeee 🤹‍♀️ its been months since I last wrote for Enzo, BUT i hope it was what you expected my darling babe, and that you enjoy it !! 🥺♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request above. ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 811

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : hurt/comfort, slight angst, fluff, drabble. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Enzo Vogrincic x (fem!)Reader.

All that time spent on your relationship. And what for?

All that endless love given, all the devotion you constantly offered blindly, almost tossing aside your own self merely to focus on your boyfriend— just for all of that to be thrown into a trash can so carelessly. The sweetness bought in your relationship turned into dust, slipping away from your life. It rapidly slipped away from your fingers, with each passing second.

Desperation could only linger in the present moment of your life. Desperation to get that harrowing, stinging pain in your chest to fade away. But it was easier for you to reminiscence on what it had been… On what it could have been, rather than letting go, as your now ex-partner had done. You were at the brink of losing your sanity, which currently hung from a thin, fragile thread.

Withdrawing yourself was the very first impulsive instinct overwhelming you. You were as if on a labyrinth— stuck in a constant limbo of pity, outrage, and self-loathing. Had you done something wrong to deserve this? No, you must have done something. How could those thoughts not gnaw your own head so dreadfully? It consumed you on the inside slowly.

Along the feelings of withdrawing yourself, in order to properly and fully process the event, came along the need to vent out all those built-up emotions. And who else could be better to attentively hear and comfort you, other than Enzo? The one and only who knew you best, as you knew him better than anyone else did.

And that was exactly what you had done as soon as you could free yourself from the brief shock of the situation— call for him. Whenever you called, he went to wherever you went, for whatever you needed.

“Ay, chiquita.” his voice softly muttered, noticing the state you were in. Good thing he always managed to visit you at home as quickly as possible. You could barely tolerate another second being alone, slowly drowned by sorrow. His mere presence already brought comfort, and all you could do at the moment, was lift your sight to stare at him with an almost pleading look in your eyes. “Come here,”

It only a took a second for Enzo to widely open his arms invitingly, and wrap them around your body rather tightly— allowing you to unconsciously throw yourself at him, embracing him back as firmly as you could. Your head rested against his chest gently, feeling as if all the emotions that had grown inside of you were beginning to be spilled out. It didn’t matter anymore if you allowed your tears to escape in front of him, not in such a disappointing moment.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled weakly, faintly beginning to sob. You couldn’t help but think at the moment, just how silly your reason to cry was— but it really wasn’t, much less for him, who was willing to be your emotional support whenever you needed it. The warmth of his arms engulfed you tightly, pressing you against him.

The embrace was accompanied by a small little peck being placed on top of your head, his lips lingering on the spot for a few seconds before pulling apart slowly. “Why are you apologising?” you heard him asking, being very gently rocked to the sides with a soft movement. “You weren’t properly appreciated by someone you genuinely loved.” he continued, “You have all the rights in the world to feel sad, even upset.”

A weak smile quivered on the corner of your lips helplessly, a wave of comfort washed over the angsty emotions overwhelming you. This man knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. You even dared to say that not words weren’t always needed for him to be able to comfort you, but simply his mere presence.

“He didn’t deserve you, forget about him. You only bring the purest sweetness and love— a little piece of light amidst darkness.” a small scoff spurred from you, sniffing all the escaping tears away. “Thank you, but you only say that because you do love and care for me.” you joked, being answered back with another scoff. The sadness that had been lingering in the atmosphere managed to fade away leisurely.

“You’re right, but I also mean it. You don’t deserve any less of what you give.” the Uruguayan man retorted softly, placing his chin on top of your head. There was no denying that you were a special sweet little person in his life— how could he not constantly show it to you? It never mattered if you had to be reminded a thousand times of how much you were appreciated by him, he would still do it.

“I promise, I will always reciprocate all the affection you give. And I’ll show you, just how loved you are by me.”

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` taglist .ᐟ

@luceracastro @castawaycherry @creative-heart @cyliarys-starlight @deepinsideyourbeing @chiquititamia @koiibiito @lastflowrr

[pjo-tvs-version]

I wrote another Percabeth fanfic! After seeing that you all actually liked the first fanfic, I decided to write another one. This one is about Annabeth's POV of the scene in The Last Olympian where she gets stabbed by a poison dagger. Title is from Willow by yet again Taylor Swift (it's one of my favorite songs). Happy reading!!

Life Was A Willow and it Bent Right To Your Wind

"Percy!" I yelled. "You've already routed them. Pull back! We're overextended!" Percy was being too heroic at the moment. Just one look at my surroundings told me that we had to retreat. I saw the crowd at the base of the bridge. The retreating monsters were running straight toward their reinforcements. It was a small group, maybe thirty or forty demigods in battle armour, mounted on skeletal horses. One of them held a purple banner with the black scythe design. The lead horseman trotted forward. He took off his helm, and I recognized Kronos himself, his eyes like molten gold. The Apollo campers and I faltered involuntarily. Luke I thought. No it was Kronos. Luke did not have those cruel, heartless golden eyes, Kronos did.  But I couldn’t help but think about my memories of him- all of which broken in my mind because of everything he did. Focus Annabeth, see the battle around me. The monsters we'd been pursuing reached the Titan's line and were absorbed into the new force. Kronos gazed in our direction. He was a quarter mile away from us. 

"Now," Percy  said, "we pull back." The Titan lord's men drew their swords and charged. The hooves of their skeletal horses thundered against the pavement. Our archers shot a volley, bringing down several of the enemy, but they just kept riding. "Retreat!" Percy told the group of demigods. "I'll hold them.'" In a matter of seconds they were on us. Michael and his archers tried to retreat, but I stayed right beside me, fighting with my knife and mirrored shield as we slowly backed up the bridge. I couldn’t leave Percy alone in a situation like this and after our last experience in the Labyrinth, I never will. Kronos's cavalry swirled around us, slashing and yelling insults. The Titan himself advanced leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. Being the lord of time, I guess he did. I felt tears brimming at the corner of my eyes. Luke had been a brother to me when no one even cared about me. Whatever he did and is doing is beyond wrong but still I cannot make myself believe that we have to kill him soon enough or we are doomed. Ugh why are thoughts distracting me so much today? I try to concentrate on the fight so as to escape my depressing thoughts.

  I felt a stab of pain in my heart as I looked at Luke’s no Kronos’ army. I tried to wound his men, not kill. That slowed me down, but these weren't monsters. They were demigods who'd fallen under Kronos's spell. I couldn't see faces under their battle helmets, but some of them had been my friends. I slashed the legs off their horses and made the skeletal mounts disintegrate. After the first few demigods took a spill, the rest figured out they'd better dismount and fight me on foot. 

Percy and I stayed shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite directions. I felt a spark of warmth at the familiarity. Ever since the labyrinth, we weren't the same and I missed the many things we did together. I will never admit it out loud but Percy was the best battle partner I could ask for. I kept on blocking the attacks of a dracaenae when I saw a demigod, a knife in hand ready to plunge. .He wore an eye patch under his war helm: Ethan Nakamura, the son of Nemesis. He was alive only because of Percy’s generosity. I followed his gaze which was difficult considering I was already battling a reptile woman.  The knife was not aimed at me but at Percy. Panic arose in my mind and my thoughts were speeding inside me. I had a few seconds but my mind was running in different directions. Percy is invincible, I chided. But I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease inside me. I had to make a decision now. I had to make a similar choice back in the labyrinth. However I regretted it so I corrected my mistake now. I won’t let Percy get hurt again if I can help it. I take a deep breath and hurl my shield at the dracaenae. After that was done, I hurled myself in front of the knife.

I braced myself for the pain to hit. I had anticipated that it would be pretty bad considering the force with which Ethan plunged it and I just added more momentum by hurling myself in front of it. It was way worse. A scream arose which I couldn't control.I reflexively clutched my shoulder which was now oozing with blood. The blood had seeped through my camp t-shirt. My head felt dizzy and my knees buckled. 

Behind me, Percy shouted "Annabeth!". I couldn’t think thanks to the wound but there is something else too. The pain got more intense with every passing second and I could feel myself shivering. Percy’s face showed every possible emotion he was feeling. Confusion, concern,anger and worry. Percy locked eyes with the enemy demigod. Perhaps he was regretting his decision to set Ethan free. To my astonishment, Percy slammed him in the face with his sword hilt so hard he dented his helm. My vision is getting blurry now. From the pain? From tears? I had no idea.

 "Get back!" Percy slashed the air in a wide arc, driving the rest of the demigods away from me. "No one touches her!" I had a feeling that the pain was making me so delirious that I was hearing things. Did Percy just say “No one touches her” or was it just me hallucinating. I had never seen him so vehement about anything. Through my fuzzy vision I saw Luke (no Kronos)  towering above us on his skeletal horse, his scythe in one hand. “Interesting,” he said. It sounded downright ominous. "Bravely fought, Percy Jackson," he said. "But it's time to surrender . . . or the girl dies." No, I couldn't  let him surrender. Not now after all the training and preparation. After all the sacrifices. I find my voice and manage to croak the words "Percy, don't". It happened so fast, barely in the blink of an eye. "Blackjack!" Percy yelled. As fast as light, the pegasus swooped down and clamped his teeth on the straps of my armour. We soared away over the river, into the sky.

I must have passed out from the pain midair because right now I was covered in blankets, lying down on a lounge chair, on a balcony. Under different circumstances I would've loved the view from the terrace. It looked straight down onto Central Park. The morning was clear and bright—perfect for a picnic or a hike, or pretty much anything except fighting monsters. My thoughts race and my thinking process is still not clear because of the stab wound. My first thought was Percy. Was he okay? Is he alive? Did he die again because of me? My Athena heritage isn't helping much either. The many logical facts and the unfair odds threaten the hope I have about Percy being alive. I hear crying and recognize it at once. Silena Beauregard, daughter of Aphrodite, was sniffling and speaking. I heard her saying “... better come quickly with a healer from the Apollo Cabin. Hurry Percy.” 

So Percy is alive. Thank the gods. At once I am threatened by another thought- Did he surrender. Then a wave of pain washes over me causing me to grimace. My thoughts are scattered and I feel  as though my wound is burning. My forehead breaks into sweat and Silena places a cool cloth on my forehead. She is crying, sobbing and apologising. I try to ask her why she is so miserable but the words stay stuck in my throat. “I’m sorry Annabeth. I’m so sorry.” she sniffles. I am puzzled. Why is apologising? She wasn't even there when I got hurt. “It isn't your fault Silena.” I try to reassure her through my broken voice. “Rest now Annabeth, she said, feeling my forehead.”

It was difficult to abide by Silena’s request. I kept on drifting into unconsciousness and consciousness, unable to ignore the throbbing pain in my shoulder and the burning sensation I felt around the wound. It must have been a while when I heard panicked footsteps approaching towards me. I try to turn my head with all my remaining energy to see Percy running and Will Solace behind him.

He looked aghast whilst looking at me. Was I looking that beat up? “Annabeth-” he choked. He looked so concerned, so guilty that I tried to lighten the mood a little. “Poison on the dagger, Pretty stupid of me. Huh?” I mumbled. Will undid the bandages. He exhaled with relief. "It's not so bad, Annabeth. A few more minutes and we would've been in trouble, but the venom hasn't gotten past the shoulder yet. Just lie still. Somebody hand me some nectar." 

Percy grabbed the canteen of nectar faster than I could have said Seaweed Brain. Will started applying the godly drink on my wound and as if on reflex. I grabbed Percy’s hand, squeezing it. The pain was too much. Will had told me to lie still which was becoming more difficult with every passing second. "Ow," I said. "Ow, ow!". Silena muttered words of encouragement. Will put some silver paste over the wound and hummed words in Ancient Greek—a hymn to Apollo. I felt better. The pain was relatively less intense and the poison’s burning sensation had been significantly reduced.Then he applied fresh bandages and stood up shakily. The healing must've taken a lot of his energy. He looked almost as pale as me. "That should do it," he said. "But we're going to need some mortal supplies." I realised that I was still gripping Percy’s hand (which had now turned purple because I gripped it a tad too hard) and let go awkwardly.

Will  grabbed a piece of hotel stationery, jotted down some notes, and handed it to Malcolm. "There's a Duane Reade on Fifth. Normally I would never steal—" "I would," Travis volunteered. Will glared at him. "Leave cash or drachmas to pay, whatever you've got, but this is an emergency. I've got a feeling we're going to have a lot more people to treat." Nobody disagreed. There was hardly a single demigod who hadn't already been wounded . . . except Percy. "Come on, guys," Travis Stoll said. "Let's give Annabeth some space. We've got a drugstore to raid . . . I mean, visit." The demigods shuffled back inside. Jake Mason grabbed Percy’s shoulder as he was leaving. "We'll talk later, but it's under control. I'm using Annabeth's shield to keep an eye on things. The enemy withdrew at sunrise; not sure why. We've got a lookout at each bridge and tunnel." "Thanks, man," Percy said. He nodded. "Just take your time." 

He closed the terrace doors behind him, leaving Silena, Percy, and me alone. Silena pressed a cool cloth to Annabeth's forehead. "This is all my fault." "No," I said weakly. Why did she keep blaming herself? "Silena, how is it your fault?" "I've never been any good at camp," she murmured. "Not like you or Percy. If I was a better fighter . . ." Her mouth trembled. Ever since Beckendorf died she'd been getting worse, and every time I looked at her, it made me worried even more about her. Her expression reminded me of glass—like she might break any minute. "You're a great camper," Percy told Silena. "You're the best pegasus rider we have. And you get along with people. Believe me, anyone who can make friends with Clarisse has talent." She stared at Percy like he had just given her an idea. 

 "That's it! We need the Ares cabin. I can talk to Clarisse. I know I can convince her to help us." Silena beamed. "Whoa, Silena. Even if you could get off the island, Clarisse is pretty stubborn. Once she gets angry—" Percy tried to say. "Please," Silena said. "I can take a pegasus. I know I can make it back to camp. Let me try." He exchanged looks with me. I nodded slightly. I didn't like the idea. I didn't think Silena stood a chance of convincing Clarisse to fight. On the other hand, Silena was so distracted right now that she would just get herself hurt in battle. Maybe sending her back to camp would give her something else to focus on. "All right," Percy told her. "I can't think of anybody better to try." Silena threw her arms around Percy. Then she pushed back awkwardly, glancing at me. Well that was weird. "Um, sorry. Thank you, Percy! I won't let you down!" she added.

Once she was gone, Percy knelt next to me and felt my forehead. He had so much concern in his eyes. The expression on his face was endearing. Maybe the poison did something to my head because the next words just sprouted out from my lips. "You're cute when you're worried,". "Your eyebrows get all scrunched together." My thoughts were unclear, but here I am complementing Percy on his looks after being stabbed by a poison dagger. It was true after all. His eyes reminded me of a cute baby seal and his hair was tousled making him look cute. No Annabeth, I chide myself, I am not going to go over my feelings with battle going on. "You are not going to die while I owe you a favour," Percy retorted. 

"Why did you take that knife?" He said nothing about my comment. It hurt a little considering the events of last summer (I’m looking at Racheal here). I sigh, hope doesn't come without a cost (the cost here being my broken heart but lets ignore that, we are at war).  "You would've done the same for me." It was true. I guess we both knew it. I stare at him and he looks at me dead serious, the twinkle in his eyes was lost. I realised then something else more serious must be going on in his mind because he was seldom this serious. 

"How did you know?" he asked, panicking. "Know what?" He looked around to make sure we were alone. Then he leaned in close and whispered: "My Achilles spot. If you hadn't taken that knife, I would've died." My heart skipped a beat as he leaned. Why do I always feel like this around Percy? Then my ears caught on the words ‘Achilles spot’. So he took a dip in the Styx. That was such a risky and stupid thing to do. But it was exactly the type of thing he will do. He would sacrifice himself for anyone close to him.  Even though I call it stupid, it was indeed a smart move. Maybe I’ll tell him that if (no when there can be no if) we come out alive from the war. He looks at me and suddenly I remember that I should answer his question. "I don't know, Percy.” I admit. “ I just had this feeling you were in danger. Where . . . where is the spot?" 

I didn't expect him to tell me his weakness though. I could be fatal and I would understand if he didn't want to tell me either (though it would hurt on the inside but let's forget about that part.) He should know that he wasn't supposed to tell anyone. "The small of my back." he answers. He told me? He told me his one weakness? His one fatal liability? I was in utter shock. I didn't expect  Seaweed Brain to trust me about something this fatal. But he did and that surprised me.

I guess curiosity is an ingrained trait of the Athenian brain. I wanted to know exactly where. Without thinking, I lifted my hand. "Where? Here?" I asked.  I put my hand on Percy’s spine, and my skin tingles from the warmth of the touch. Why do I keep feeling sparks every time I’m even close to Percy?  Percy moved my fingers to the one spot that grounded him to his mortal life. I shouldn't be feeling like this but  I will confess that I loved the intimacy that this moment carried. "You saved me," Percy said. "Thanks." I could practically hear the gratitude in his voice. It made the pain worth it. I cannot believe that I am saying this but I would have taken another poisoned dagger in a heartbeat for him. As much as I hated it, I removed my hand.  But I kept holding it. I am not going to lie, it made me feel surreal when it shouldn’t.  Small gestures by him send jolts of electricity through me. But I shouldn't feel like this. He saw me only as his friend and battle partner, nothing else. So I just switch to our usual banter.

 "So you owe me," I said weakly. "What else is new?" We watched the sun come up over the city. It felt peaceful and I was content for a moment. I wanted to savour the moment. In battle you appreciate the rare quiet times one gets. But of course my thoughts wonder as I study my surroundings.

The traffic should've been heavy by now, but there were no cars honking, no crowds bustling along the sidewalks. Far away, I could hear a car alarm echo through the streets. A plume of black smoke curled into the sky somewhere over Harlem. I wondered how many ovens had been left on when the Morpheus spell hit; how many people had fallen asleep in the middle of cooking dinner. Pretty soon there would be more fires. it made sad to see such a busy town being reduced to a battlefield by the Titans… and the Gods. Oh gods, Percy must be feeling terrible seeing his town in such a condition.  Everyone in New York was in danger—and all those lives depended on us. 

Did Annabeth sound a little too lovergirl in this? I don't know. Phew, this was a long one so it will probably have a lot of mistakes. As always positive criticism is appreciated. Hope you liked it!

You can read it on AO3 here

[bbieangel]

”𝐴𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛”

No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first time ever publishing something I wrote in english. Please be kind! English isn't my first language so I can't guarantee you won't find mistakes! Also this was inspired by the scene in Labyrinth where David Bowie sings "As the world falls down" to Sarah. The protagonist and Joel are wearing very similar outfits as the ones they used in the movie. I hope y'all like it and if you have any suggestions, let me know!

Summary: Your friends convince you to go out to a masquerade ball and, while you wander by yourself, you encounter a mysterious man; Joel Miller.

Word count: 9k (kinda long ik)

Tags: Joel is a gentleman, pinning against a wall, reader doesn't really like going out because of a previous situation, kisses, fluff, no angst or smut, lots of compliments and cute pet names.

There's no smut on this one, just trying out for fun and see what I'm more comfortable with:)

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It was the perfect summer night.

"C'mon! You never go out with us!" Chelsea had told you and.. she was right.

You couldn't deny it. You weren't really the type to go out. Not after that particular night.

But the way your friends insisted made your heart go softer and you finally gave in, gaining a round of cheers from them. The situation sparked a little bit of hope inside of your chest. And that spark quickly turned into a fire.

So.. you had said yes, actually excited to go out for the first time in a long while. You couldn't stop thinking about what you would wear: what do people wear to a masquerade ball anyways?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As the evening of that day came, you were deep inside of your closet, looking for something to wear. Until.. you saw it.

That dress. The one you had never worn before because you kept telling yourself that the occasion wasn't 'special enough'

But it was perfect for this night. The gown is predominantly white, with a bit of shimmering silver that catches the light just right, adding an ethereal look to it. It has beading and sprakling embellishments that made you look straight out of a fairy tale.

You sighed as you saw yourself in the mirror. Was it too much? You asked yourself. But the excitement and adrenaline rushing through your veins was enough to pull those thoughts away from you. It fit your body deliciously, your curves looked amazing in it. It was like it had been made for you. And you knew it when you saw it at the thrift store, wondering how someone could let go of such a jewel.

You put your hair up in a tight bun, a few curls coming down your face and adorning it.

And the mask, of course. A white mask, simple as that. It was a perfect match for the dress.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As soon as you saw the place you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp. It had been so well decorated, the ambiance and the music making goosebumps go through your body. Your girlfriends were enamoured by the way you looked.

"Like a porcelain doll." One had said.

"Straight out of a painting." Another one of them complimented you. You weren't sure of how to thank them enough for hyping you up that way. Your cheeks turned red as well as the tip of your nose did, making all of them laugh as they found it really adorable.

When you walked through the door you could see people staring at you, which was no surprise as you wore a magnificent dress that complimented your figure. But it wasn't really helpful as your mind had been playing tricks against you, reminding you of uneventful nights that looked a little too much like this one. Making your stomach twirl, you weren't able to have more than a drink. Anxiety always creeping behind your back, making sure to have you walking on eggshells.

But as time passed and you laughed and danced, your body and brain relaxed as you decided to actually enjoy the night. To enjoy how gorgeous you felt.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You decided that it was time to catch a break, so you told your friends and off you went into the bathroom. Obviously, you had a hard time pulling the dress to do your business but the task was completed, and you got out of the tiny room with a wide smile on your face, mask still on.

A pair of eyes caught yours. It was a man; broad shoulders, wearing a white, ruffled shirt that made his biceps stand out. Black pants that complimented his legs and had you glaring at his crouch a few times. His hair was slicked back, curls almost coming in contact with his shoulders at the base of his neck. Some gray hairs standing out. His beard and moustache were the same, and his prominent nose had you staring at him up and down.

The best part was his coat: a dark blue tailcoat adorned with some embroidery and metallic accents, something you wouldn't see often.

But his eyes.. his brown, amber eyes. It reminded you of the coffee you always took every morning, the one you couldn't live with. And from that moment, you knew you didn't want to live without his eyes either.

You were paralyzed, almost against your will. He was looking at you, too, taking in your body, your dress, your hair.. your slightly parted lips.

He smiled slightly, gesturing with a hand to follow him.

You tried to follow after him as he nodded at you. But there was too many people qnd suddenly, you were trapped in between of the crowd, all of the couples dancing together, each in their own little bubble. A sigh came out of your throat, frustrated that you had lost him. You looked around trying to find him to no avail.

When you were about to leave and look somewhere else you felt a pair of hands softly land on your shoulder, making you turn around.

It was him.

"You lost me for a minute, darlin'." He whispered close to your ear and gave you a grin. His southern accent wasn't something you were willing to ignore.

"I did, yeah.. There's a lot of people here." You managed to answer and swallowed hard.

Suddenly, the music changed into a more romantic and slow one, making you snap out of that state of pure amusement you found yourself in.

"As The World Falls Down" by David Bowie could be heard in the background.

Oh, how you loved that song.

As a little girl you couldn't keep your eyes away from the man in the television playing "the goblin king", or turn away your attention from his thick british accent, or his honey dripping voice. You always fantasized about meeting a man like that, who would give you everything. But inside you knew that it was just a silly teenage dream that wasn't going to happen.

The mysterious man grabbed your hand, taking you somewhere less crowded and gently placed his hands around your waist.

"Will you dance with me?" He asked, his voice a deep tone.

"Y-Yeah.." You mumbled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Your bodies swayed softly, your dress moving with grace as you tried to calm down your nerves and enjoy what was happening. He was wearing a blue cape around his shoulders and you couldn't help but brush your fingers softly against the velvety fabric.

"What's your name?" He asked, his grip on your waist was so gentle it made your heart flutter.

You told him your name and he repeated it. It sounded like the most precious name when it came out of his mouth.

"That's a beautiful name.." He mumbled and looked away, shyness seemed to have taken over him.

You chuckled and placed a hand on his cheek, the feel of his beard made your hand tingle.

"What's yours?" You asked in a sweet tone of voice.

"Joel."

Joel. It fitted him perfectly.

His eyes sparkled as the lights were illuminating them, making your knees feel weak when you looked into them.

He pulled you closer, breaths almost mixing. He smiled at the way your breath hitched.

"Come outside with me for a moment, yeah?" He asked and you nodded, taking his hand and going into the beautiful garden.

"Can I see you without your mask?" You asked, eager to see what he hid behind it.

"I don't mind takin' it off, sweetheart." He said and took it off with a smile. Your eyes widened and your pupils dilated at the sight.

He was even more handsome that you had imagined, wrinkles forming at the sides of his eyes when he smiled at you.

You took off your mask as well, feeling that it wasn't fair that only one of you had to take it off.

He approached you slowly, not making any sudden movement or touching you as he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"You are.. breathtaking, honey. Like a princess, straight out of a fairytale I might say." He whispered and gave you a wink, his knuckles softly brushing against your cheek. You could sense the heat going up to your neck and the apples of your cheeks, and he let out a soft chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Well.. I have to say the same about you, I–" Your words cut you short, as they weren't enough to describe him.

"You're so.. so handsome.. And captivating." You mumbled, trying to keep your composure and not give away the heat forming at your lower stomach of the way that your knees weakened.

Then your phone buzzed, startling you. It was one of your friends, wondering where you had gone to. When you explained breafly the situation in a short text, she smiled and told you to let her know if you felt uncomfortable or unsafe.

As you looked back at him, you noticed he had come closer. You gulped, your breathing shaking softly as you couldn't help but take a look at his plush lips.

You weren't much of a 'love at first sight' believer but faith had proven you different this time. You wanted to keep him in your life, even if that meant embarrassing yourself and asking for his phone number.

He approached you slowly, pinning you against the wall behind you. He placed a hand at the side of your head, on the wall behind you and tilted his own head a little, glaring at your lips occasionally.

Leaning closer, and closer, it felt torturous. You wanted him to kiss you right then and there, to stop taking his sweet time but you wouldn't ask for it.

He lifted your chin to look at him as he took in the way you looked, so flustered, cheeks tinted pink.

"Can I..?"

"Yes." You cut him off.

He chuckled and softly pressed his lips against yours, a gentle and tender kiss. You slowly brought your hands up to the back of his neck, playing with his curls in a gentle way as you kept with the pace of his kiss. But when he licked your bottom lip asking for permission, you parted your lips open and he started exploring your mouth.

You hummed at the feeling, bringing him closer and pressing your bodies together. Still, he was a gentleman, as he wasn't touching you anywhere you didn't want him to.

His hand went up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing it ever so softly which made you feel like you were melting under his touch.

He pulled away and you breathed out in hot pants, feeling your stomach twirling and heat building up in your chest just because from that kiss.

When he looked at you, you couldn't help but look away for a minute. He tilted your chin to look back at him, which made your breath hitch.

With a low chuckle, he asked:

"What? Feeling shy now that I don't have my mask?"

You could your body tingle at the way his voice sounded. Deep enough to cause a warming sensation to your core.

As you tried to answer him, nothing but incoherent sentences and mumbling came out of your mouth, making yourself even more flustered.

He took that as a chance to lean in and place a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes widened at the soft, gentle touch of his plush lips against your skin. His moustache tickling your upper lip.

"You are.. a tease."

You whispered and turned your head to peak his lips.

"Well.. can't help myself when I see such beauty in front of me, darlin'."

He winked at you and you could swear your knees were going to give up on you at any moment.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After letting your girlfriends know you were okay, you spent the rest of the night chatting with Joel. A deep connection was between the two of you, and you weren't the only one who noticed it; the way he sometimes couldn't keep up his flirty, tough man façade gave away the fact that he felt just like you. His eyes sparkling, the summer breeze brushing his hair with grace.

"I don't want this to end."

He suddenly confessed, taking your hand between his.

"I mean– I don't want this to be a one time thing. But if ya do, I won't be mad."

He spoke quietly, being the gentleman he was.

You shook your head slightly and a smile tugged at your lips.

"I don't want this to end either, Joel.."

You gave him a soft smile.

After spending some more time together, he pulled out his phone and handed it to you, where you made a contact with your number.

"I hope that date you've been talking about really happens."

You said, before saying your goodbyes.

"You have my word."

He spoke and your smile became wider, as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Joel."

You whispered with a smile and gave his hand a soft caress before turning to walk away, and enter the party again. It was like you were stuck together by glue, a strong force that begged you not to leave. If you could, you would've spent the rest of the night with him. But it was a night with your friends after all.

"Bye, sweetheart."

He mumbled before letting you go. A sense of sadness dawned on him, pressuring on his chest. His own friends quickly came after him and he smiled like nothing had happened, like something inside of him wasn't longing to be with you again. But he had to be patient, he knew that.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Back home as you laid comfortably in bed after taking off your makeup and dress, a ding was heard, coming from your phone.

You grabbed it and immediately knew who it was, even if you didn't have his number saved.

"Hey, darlin'. You awake?"

The text read. And you couldn't help but let out a squeal into your pillow, the biggest smile adorning your face beautifully.

"So, when's that date you were talking about?"

[hayleythesugarbowl]

so I know you like just did a Angela x reader one shot and IM SO SORRY LIKE SO SORRY BUT COULD YOU DO ANOTHER ONE can it be like a really sad on like a realllllllllllllllllllllllly sad like I’m saying reallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllly sad if you could 😭 pls thanks bae and if you need some ideas I got you so what if reader like was in love with Angela but we found out she was going out with someone but we didn’t know it was like only for like two days and didn’t really like them and so we started to distance ourselves from her and it got so bad to where we stopped showing up for try not to laugh or eat it or yeet it to the point where we asked to be a editor or something off screen and that’s all I can think off but have a lil fluff at the end please thanks bae love you have a great morning afternoon or night too❤️❤️❤️❤️

Love Hurts || Angela Giarratana x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ summary: oneshot where you have been in love with angela for months and upon finding out that she is dating someone else, heartbroken, you start to distance yourself from her and everything else in your life

word count: 3.9k

warnings: angst

a/n: i hope you enjoy this love!! i tried to make it sad enough for u, i hope i succeeded 💋 also, since i wrote most of this while listening to taylor swift, i think this is very much i can see you, gold rush, labyrinth, and lover coded in that order!! also i have a smosh masterlist now so you can find everything there 🎀🍓

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     You took a deep breath.

     Today was the day. The day you were finally going to ask Angela Giarratana, your cast-mate at Smosh and crush of the past three months who was maybe, possibly the love of your life, out. 

      Ever since you’d started working at Smosh, you’d been drawn to Angela and her beautiful smile and charming, exuberant personality. After months of admiring her in secret, you finally decided to make a move.

     You liked to think you two were getting closer. Talking more and more and quickly  becoming good friends. You couldn’t be sure how she felt, but you had to take a chance 

     It was now or never.

     You turned a corner, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets as you walked swiftly down the hallway. 

     What’s the worst that could happen? You thought. She could say no. Humiliate you. You could ruin your friendship.

     Internal monologue, not helping, You thought. 

     Shaking the ideas from your head, you tried to focus on something else. You had to be confident. And your own doubtful thought weren’t doing you any favors.

     You rounded the next corner, seeing Angela and Chanse in the middle of a conversation several feet away.

     “Tell me everything!” You heard Chanse say. 

     Angela tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a movement you had observed many times. “There isn’t much to tell!”

     She turned her head, catching sight of you standing there and smiling at you.

     “Oh, (Y/n), hey!”

     “Hi, uh,” you started, “I was just going to—can I talk to you for a second?” 

     No turning back now.

     She walked towards you, “Of course.”

     “I’ll catch you later,” Chanse said, “ when you will finish telling me about last night.”

     You looked inquisitively at Angela.

     She rolled her eyes at Chanse, waving him off, and told you, “Just this date I had last night. So what is it you wanted to talk about?”

     You felt like you’d been punched in the stomach. “What?”

     “Oh, it’s just this person I’ve been seeing, and Chanse wants to hear every a run-down of every date and every detail of our relationship.” 

     This couldn’t be happening. You tried to say something else, but couldn’t find the right words to say.

     Finally, Angela spoke up, “So you wanted to tell me something?”

     “Um, yeah I just, wanted to say that—I have the schedule for tomorrow if you want to see it. I know you don’t check your email often and so I printed out the schedule for you.” You finished, defeated.

     “Oh,” Angela seemed mildly confused, “Ok, thanks! I’ll come by to get it from you later.”

     “Great,” you said, trying to smile. Trying not to show your disappointment. Trying to take even breaths and get out of there.

     “Hey, are you okay?” Angela said, “you seem like something’s on your mind.”

     You. “Nope, everything’s fine,” you got out, “I’ll catch you later.”

     And before she could respond, you turned and speed-walked away from Angela and your conversation. 

     Once you were a good distance away, you let yourself deflate.

     Despite yourself, tears started to cloud your vision as you made it to the first door you came upon—which happened to be the bathroom—and you shut yourself in, leaning against the door and letting yourself cry.

     Stupid. Irrational. You told yourself. Angela had the right to date whoever she wanted. You hadn’t even asked her out yet. But a part of you had thought she’d say yes. That she’d felt the same way about you all this time as you’d felt about her. That you hadn’t been in love with her for months only to have it come to an end like this. And to top it all off, you remembered, now you had to print out your schedule for tomorrow to give to Angela, successfully backing up your lie.

     You pressed your palms into your eyes and willed the tears to stop. 

     You heard footsteps outside, and quickly ran into a stall, locking the door. You honestly weren’t sure if you were in a men’s or women’s restroom, but either way you didn’t want anyone to see you like this and have to explain what was going on. 

     You waited until you heard whoever was in there with you go in and out before stepping out of the stall, rushing to the door, and quickly stepping back into the hallway. You knew you had to film Eat it or Yeet it in a few minutes. But you didn’t know how you could bring yourself to face Angela again—just thinking about your last conversation made you sick. 

     Reluctantly, you made your way back to set and scanned the room, trying not to look like you’d been crying. You saw Courtney in conversation with one of the crew members, Damien and Shayne laughing at a joke one of them had just made, and Amanda taking a sip of her coffee.

     No sign of Angela. Yet. 

     You looked over just in time to see Amanda walking over to you. 

     “What’s up, (Y/n)?”

     “Uh, nothing much.”

     “Have you seen Angela?” Amanda asked you when you didn’t elaborate, “She should be on set.”

     “No, I haven’t,” you lied. You couldn’t deal with reliving the past few minutes right now. 

     As if on cue, Angela walked into the room. “Hey guys! Sorry I’m late,” She called out.

     You looked up at her, but looked away quickly. 

     “Angela!” Courtney called out, rushing over, “Chanse tells me you’ve been seeing someone behind our backs? Spill!”

     You dug your fingernails into your leg.

     “I haven’t been doing anything behind your backs,” Angela said, grinning, “and yes I’ve been seeing someone but—”

     Just then you all got called to start the show and the conversation dissolved.

     “Well, we all want to hear about it later, right (Y/n)?” Courtney looked to you for help. 

     “Um, I—”

     You were saved from responding by Angela exclaiming, “I’ll tell you later, I promise!”

    It was going to be a long day.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     “(Y/n), are you ok?” 

     You spun around, coming face to face with Angela.

     “What?”

     “You just seemed…distant during Eat it or Yeet it.”

     Distant was one term for it. Living a nightmare was another. 

     You had struggled to make it through the episode, sitting next to Angela and trying not to notice—willing your heart not to race—every time your shoulders brushed or she looked at you. You tried to tell yourself this shouldn’t feel any different—you were still friends and you still loved her in secret. 

     That much hadn’t changed, You thought wryly. 

     Except that you knew she was seeing someone else.

     You squeezed your eyes shut before answering Angela, attempting an ‘I’m fine’ look.

     “I’m just tired.”

    “Alright, well, I’ll see you later to get that schedule…” 

     Shoot, that’s right.

     “Sounds like a plan,” was all you said. 

     “Great!” She leaned in for a hug and you hugged her back, unable to not notice how her hair smelled like mango and flower blossoms. 

     Curse her, You thought, curse her and her perfectly shampooed hair.

     After a moment, you watched her walk away, thinking it was going to be nearly impossible to make it through the rest of the week. You’d just have to go on pretending. Act supportive of Angela and her partner. Act like nothing was wrong. Act like you weren’t a mess inside. 

     Act like you weren’t in love with Angela

     ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     The rest of the week went about as well as you thought it would. 

     You’d spent the whole time practically avoiding Angela. Turning the other way if you saw her coming. Making up excuses to get out of conversations she was a part of. Keeping your answers short.

     Everything was a reminder.

     Shoots were harder. When you had to act like everything was fine in videos and put on a smiling face for Angela and the public. 

     You didn’t want to distance yourself from her. But it was hard to be around her when all that ran through your head when you saw her was She doesn’t love you and she never will.

     Your other cast mates had started to notice you acting differently, if the “are you ok?”s and the “are you sure you don’t need anything?”s were any indication. You appreciated their concern, you really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell any of them the real reason for your distraught state. Still, the worried questions kept rolling in. From everyone but Angela, because you never stayed around her quite long enough to let her inquire.

     “(Y/n), did you hear me?” A voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you looked up, out of your daze, quickly.

     “Sorry Damien, what were you saying?” 

     He looked at you with a frown, “It’s ok, I was just asking if you—”

     Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Angela walking into the room and headed in your general direction. 

     You stood up quickly. “I have to go, I’m sorry.”

     Picking up your bag, you fled the room, leaving Damien standing there, mid-sentence.  

     “(Y/n), wait!” You heard someone call you.

     You kept walking, hoping you could pretend you didn’t hear the voice you knew had just said your name. 

     Angela.

     Eventually, she caught up to you and you were forced to spin around.

     “Ok, I don’t know what’s up, or why you’ve been avoiding me all week…”

     She trailed off, waiting you to explain, and when you didn’t she kept going. 

     “Did I do something?” She looked at you expectantly.

     “I—no, you did absolutely nothing, I mean I haven’t—” 

     “If I offended you in any way, I’m sorry,” she said. “And I’m also worried about you, you haven’t seemed your self lately at all.”

     You sighed. “No, it’s nothing like that, I’m just really busy and I—I have to go.”

     You turned the other way and kept walking, not looking back to see the concerned expression on Angela’s face. 

     Great. Just great. On top of it all, now Angela thought you were mad at her. 

     If she only knew that couldn’t be farther from the truth, you thought.

     You turned a corner and almost ran right into Shayne, heading in the opposite direction. 

     “Hey, (Y/n), didn’t see you there! You ready for TNTL. I’ve got this awesome new bit—ok, imagine a shark goes to medical school…”

     You didn’t hear the rest of that sentence. You’d completely forgotten there was another shoot today. You internally groaned. You’d much rather go home, sit in your pajamas, and enjoy your much-anticipated date with ice cream and Pride and Prejudice. 

     “…and anyways obviously the cheesecake can’t be eaten, which is why the whole place explodes. What do you think?”

     “Um, sounds great,” you said, having missed half of what he said. You continued to walk with him to the set of TNTL. When you got there, an animated conversation was already taking place.

     “I did not say it like that!” Angela was saying

     “Sounded like it to me,” Courtney said.

     “Totally said it like the heart-eyes emoji,” Damien agreed, imitating the face.

     “No,” Angela corrected, “all I said was that Alex was coming to guest star on Try Not To Laugh. Do you hear any heart eyes?”

     “No, no heart eyes. Just Alex, my true love, my one and only, the fire of my loins—” Amanda went on but you couldn’t listen to any more.

     No. This couldn’t be happening. The person Angela was dating couldn’t not be coming here. Now. 

     You couldn’t do the show. You turned to Shayne, “I forgot something, I’m going to go back really quick.”

     No one else had seen you yet. You rushed away from the set, opening the first door you found—a storage room—and sat down on a box, burying your face in your hands. Could this week get any worse?

     And you were crying again. For the—honestly you’d stopped counting how many times since the day. 

     You felt really bad skipping a shoot like that. This was your job! But you couldn’t bear to see Angela with the person she’d been going out with. 

     Hearing about it was one thing. But actually seeing them acting like a couple in front of you—you might actually be sick. 

     You had to figure something out. You couldn’t stay in this room forever. You couldn’t keep ditching shows, and moping around, and avoiding Angela for the rest of

your life. As much as you’d like to. 

     You didn’t know how long you sat there in that closet, letting the tears fall as you contemplated your situation. Finally, when you figured someone would probably start looking for you soon, you got up, wiping the tears from your face, and opened the door. 

     You didn’t know where to go from there.

You were contemplating this when suddenly you heard a noise and, turning around, were met with at least half a dozen faces staring at you from down the hall. You noticed Angela among them.

     “(Y/n)!” 

     “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

     “Where have you been?”

     “You never showed up for TNTL, what’s wrong?”

     “What we’re you doing in there?”

     Never showed up for TNTL. That meant you must have been in that closet for much longer than you thought.

     You didn’t know who’s question to answer first. Or how to answer any of them.

Completely overwhelmed, you did the only logical thing.

     You ran.

     Ok, maybe it wasn’t the only logical thing. But as you dashed towards the back door and your waiting car in the lot, you decided it was worth it. You’d come up with an excuse later, even though it would be hard. 

     But if it meant not having to face Angela today, then skipping one TNTL shoot wasn’t that big of a deal.

     Right?

     ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     It wasn’t long before one turned into every show Angela was in. 

     The first time you’d blamed it on food poisoning. But by the eighth or ninth you were running out of excuses. Once you skipped one shoot, it became easier to do it again and a lot harder to work up the nerve to be that close to Angela with things the way they were. 

     You knew you shouldn’t be skipping, but the idea had just become so tempting. It wasn’t that you wanted to, it was more that you physically couldn’t bring yourself to show up. 

     You contemplated these things as you sat across from Ian Hecox, your boss, waiting for him to say something.

     “(Y/n), I think you know why I need to talk to you. You’ve missed…a lot of filming. It’s becoming a problem.”

     Your knew that. Which is why you had come to a decision about what to do. 

     “I know, and I’m sorry. I was thinking…I don’t think I want to be a part of the cast anymore.”

     You let that sink in. It killed you. You loved your job and what you did. This decision didn’t come lightly. But for your mental state, it had to be done. Besides, you were probably going to get fired anyway if you missed any more work.

      You continued, “I have loved being a part of the cast here and If there’s any way it could work, I’d like to apply to be an editor. I think I have the credentials to do it and I feel like it would be best for me.”

     Ian contemplated you, “Well, I don’t know what’s brought on this sudden change but if you think it’s best, I can probably make something work. We do want to keep you around, you know. I know everyone’s worried about you.”

     You swallowed hard. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Can I?” You motioned to the door behind you.

     “Go ahead.” Ian smiled at you. 

     You rushed out of the office and shut the door behind you, leaning against the wall. 

     You couldn’t believe you just did that. You’d worked so hard to get where you were. And now, there you were, throwing away your entire career. You steeled yourself. You made this decision, and you were going to stick with it.

     “So, editor, huh?” 

     How had you not noticed Angela standing on the other side of the office door?

     “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just waiting to talk to Ian and I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said, sheepishly.

     “Yeah, I uh, I just think it’s best,” you told her, trying to stay composed. But something about the decision you’d made mixed with Angela standing in front of you looking all warmhearted and beautiful made something inside you break. You couldn’t stop the tears from threatening to pour out and so you turned away.

     “Hey,” Angela said, catching your arm, “what’s up?”

     “It’s nothing,” you attempted.

     “It’s not nothing, you’ve been acting weird these past few weeks and I want to know what’s going on.”

     You tried to respond, you really did, but the tears were falling harder now and you couldn’t make out a response. 

     “(Y/n), come here,” she led you to a chair and crouched down in front of you. “What’s wrong?”

     You couldn’t possibly begin to tell her. “I—I can’t.”

     “(Y/n), I’m your friend and I care about you, you can tell me anything.”

     She was looking at you so intently now. So intently you almost told her everything.   

     How you had been devastated and heartbroken when you found out she was with someone else. How you couldn’t be around her without wanting to cry when you knew she’d never feel the same way about you as you did about her. How you’d began to distance yourself from everything and everyone around you. How you had basically ruined your career over all of it.

     How she could quite possibly be the love of your life, even still. 

     As you stared into her warm, brown eyes and thought, What if I could?

     “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

     “Sorry? For what?”

     “For ignoring you and…and avoiding you.”

     “I knew it! I told Shayne I knew you were avoiding me, and I was right! Dude owes me five bucks,” she looked down sheepishly, “but not the time, I get it.”

     You almost smiled. That was what Angela did. She made people feel better by making them smile, making them laugh. 

     You swiped at your cheek with the sleeve of your sweater. “I’m sorry also for not telling you why I was avoiding you. I promise I was never mad.”

     She waved it off, “I get it, I’m loud.” She shrugged, smiling.

     “No, no that’s not why. I—it’s just—I can’t tell you.”   

     “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to—I just want to make sure you’re ok,” she gently rubbed your arm. You leaned into her touch.

    You took a deep breath. Sitting here crying in front of Angela while she consoled you, a thought ran through your head. A crazy one, but a thought still.

     What did you have to lose? 

     “You Angela, It’s you.”

     “Me?”

     “I know you don’t know this, but the day I heard you said you were involved with someone I was—” 

     You looked up at Angela, awaiting the rest of your sentence. You could do this.

     You continued. “I was on my way to ask you out and—and I know it shouldn’t have mattered to me that you were seeing someone but I couldn’t bear to picture you with someone else and after I knew it was just hard to see you when everything was a—reminder and so that, that’s why I avoided you and stopped showing up to set and I just, I was a mess—I’m still a mess and—”

     You broke off as your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt Angela wrap her arms around you, rubbing your back. You rested your head on her shoulder, letting all the things you’d felt and kept in for the past few weeks out.

     You lifted your head, sniffing. “Sorry, I’m probably ruining your shirt.”

     “Don’t be, it’s Courtney’s anyway. Don’t tell her,” she added.

     You laughed, the first real laugh in many days. 

     As wonderful as this moment was, you remembered what the conversation was about and the fact that Angela was dating someone.

     “I didn’t mean to tell you any of this, ever.

I know you’re in a relationship and I don’t mean at all to—impose or anything—”

     “(Y/n), stop—Alex and I aren’t dating anymore. We haven’t been for weeks.”

     What? “But—”

     “When you heard me talking to Chanse that day? Well we broke up that night. To be honest, I didn’t even want to go on a second date let alone a fourth but,” she threw her hands in the air, making a face. 

     Your couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was she saying that this whole time, she hadn’t even been seeing anyone? But—

     “You invited Alex to TNTL, I just thought…”

     “Alex is an aspiring comedian, I was just helping out.”

     You wrapped your arms around yourself. “Wow, sure makes me look stupid, huh?”

     “Hey, you’re not stupid (Y/n), ok?” she tilted your chin toward her. “You know that right?” 

     You nodded, but looked away quickly.

     “(Y/n), I just, I had no idea,” she shook her head. “How you felt this whole time and all that you’ve been through recently…”

     “I guess I’ve effectively ruined our friendship now, haven’t I?” You awkwardly wiped the rest of the tears from your face.

    Angela looked at you, really looked at you as if she was contemplating something. You remembered all over again how easy it was to get lost in her eyes.

     She leaned forward, until you were inches apart.

     “Well, I’m glad,” she said, her voice quiet, “because if you’ve already ruined our friendship, then it can’t hurt to do this.”

     She leaned in and kissed you softly. You kissed her back with the longing of months and she wrapped her arms around you. You did the same, savoring this moment.

     Everything was a blur. You couldn’t believe mere moments ago you’d been certain that you and Angela could never be. You’d spent months in a depressed state, heartbreak turning into numbness and spiraling and a perpetual sadness. You’d confessed all of this to Angela and found out you’d been making assumptions this whole time. 

     And then you’d kissed her. Were kissing her. And it was everything you’d hoped it would be.

     She pulled away, saying “And that’s a yes, (Y/n), I’d love to go out with you.”

     You smiled at her, a real smile, and said, “I love you, Angela.”

     “Love ya more,” she kissed you quickly and then jumped up, grabbing your hand. 

     “Now let’s go tell Ian that you want your job back.”

     “Sounds like a plan,” you told her, grinning from ear to ear.

     You looked down at Angela’s hand in yours. You looked at the way she was smiling at you, eager to fix your mistakes. You looked at all of the possibilities and all of the memories yet to be made and the love that could only grow. 

     And you were happy. For the first time in nearly a month, you were happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope this was what you wanted, happy to give you the smosh + angela content you deserve <3

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 24

All righty, folks! Before we get to Steve, we have the band on tour and Eddie is really, really gonna go through it this chapter.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23

****

Once they were on the road and the euphoria of getting the job offer of a lifetime wore off, a sense of unease settled in Eddie’s gut. He knew he should feel excited. He was doing the one thing he always dreamed about doing ever since his mom gave him his first guitar. A sweet little acoustic that he had written “This Machine Slays Dragons”. He still had it, but right now it was safe with Wayne.

But he didn’t. He just felt empty. Not good or bad. Just...empty. Like a bottle leftover from some party. Once part of a good time, now just an empty shell.

Eddie looked over at his friends. Jeff and Brian were talking, while Gareth was asleep. He pulled out his sweetheart. The way he always did when he got down.

He closed his eyes and began to play. The chords where slow and mellow. He wasn’t sure how long he played like that, just pouring his soul out into his music, but when he opened his eyes he saw that all three of his friends were staring at him open-mouthed.

“Holy shit, dude,” Brian said after closing his mouth with audible click. “Where did that come from?”

Gareth waved a piece of paper in his hand. “I wrote down as much as I could, because seriously, that was fucking incredible.”

Eddie ducked his head and blushed. “I guess I just needed to work out some shit.”

Jeff and Brian shared a glance and then Brian moved over and sat next to him.

“I think I know what you mean,” he said. “And I think you should write the lyrics too.”

Eddie looked up at him and then at Jeff and Gareth. They nodded.

“I just don’t know,” he said. “It all feels too personal to write down.”

Jeff scoffed. “And that’s exactly why you should. Because it’s personal. There’s a damn good reason that you’ve written ninety percent of our songs, man.”

Gareth nodded. “Because you’re fucking brilliant at it. Write the song. I think everyone needs to hear it.”

Eddie nodded. He got right to work on the lyrics. Taking what Gareth had transcribed and reworking the song with the lyrics. He was nearly done by the time they stopped.

Brian patted his shoulder. “Hey, man. Don’t worry, we’ve got this. You continue working on your song. I’ll send someone to get you when it’s time for the sound check, okay?”

Eddie let out a shuddering sigh. “You guys sure you don’t need an extra hand?”

Gareth laughed. “Fuck we need several, but don’t worry about yours. They’re doing the important part.”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, we’ve got this.”

*

Eddie wasn’t sure how long he was lost in his head working on the song, but he had just put down his pen when there came a knock on the door.

He got up to answer it and saw a small Hispanic woman standing out there. “Yeah?”

“It’s sound check time,” she said. “And the drummer said something about a set of headphones or something?”

Eddie looked around and spotted the sound-canceling headphones by the table. He picked them up. “I’ve got them. I’ll make sure he gets them.”

He closed the door but it hadn’t closed all the way because he heard her say, “God, what kind of loser wears noise canceling headphones to a metal concert.”

Eddie’s blood turned to ice. He picked up his guitar and carried it out of the bus.

Thankfully she wasn’t around otherwise he would have blown up at her.

He made his way through the labyrinth that was the backstage to get to where he needed to be for the sound check.

Gareth came running up to him. “Oh thank god! I thought I lost them already.”

Eddie scoffed. “Nope, just left them on the bus like a dork.”

Gareth stuck his tongue out at him.

Eddie got to work setting up for his kit. He was almost done when a sound guy came up to him.

“We’re having trouble syncing our sound to your drummer’s headset,” he told him. “Does he need them for this?”

“What’s the problem?” Eddie asked. “They didn’t have trouble in Indy.”

The guy sighed. “Our system is newer and it’s causing feedback.”

Eddie pulled out fifty bucks from his wallet. “Go buy a pair that works. And if that doesn’t cover it, I’ll pay you back.”

The guy just rolled his eyes and did as he was told.

They played that night to a sell out crowd. They were only opening for Metallica, but damn the crowd got them going. Afterwards he called Steve and chatted about their day. His day was more exciting to be sure, but he loved hearing about the client that passed out at the sight of the needle. Apparently they hadn’t realized that tattooing in involved the pesky things and had an absolute fear of them.

Then someone was tapping him on the shoulder telling him had to go. He said goodbye to Steve and was rushed out the door.

Even though they only had three shows in those two weeks, they were quickly learning that playing wasn’t the only thing a band had to do on the road.

There were parties, and talk and radio shows, and photo shoots, and signings.

Sometimes he would get to speak to Steve, but most of the time it was leaving voicemail after voicemail.

All around him he kept hearing:

“Three weeks isn’t a relationship! It’s a fling!”

“He’s not a fan of metal? What is he a fan of?”

James came up behind Eddie and clapped him on the back. “Everything okay back home?”

Eddie stared at his phone. He had just left his third message that day with Steve.

“Yeah,” he said, voice shaking a bit. “It’s just we were so new to the relationship part, we were friends before that, that I worry being on tour has hurt us in someway.

James nodded. “It’s hard being on the road, away from family. It’s why most of us take them with us when we can.”

Eddie chewed on his lip. “It’s hard because he has his own tattoo shop and recently took on two apprentices so he’s like super busy.”

James pursed his lips. “That can certainly make it hard. What time is he off?”

“Eight.”

“Tell you what,” he said. “Instead of doing on encore tonight, why don’t you boys bow out and spend time talking to your families. It’ll be good for morale all around, I think.”

Eddie sighed gratefully. “Yeah. I’ll bring it up to them and see what they say.”

James squeezed his shoulder and went on his way.

“If the drummer doesn’t like noise why did he chose drums as an instrument?”

“A drummer that startles at loud noises? Get a new drummer!”

Lars paused them on their way to the sound check in Houston. “Hey, I know you guys are only doing a couple more shows, but after that fiasco with the Chicago guys me and the boys decided to spring for everyone to get a set of these.”

He handed the case to Eddie.

He opened it up to reveal little black earbuds. “What are these?”

“It’s what all touring artists wear,” Lars explained. “They’re fitted to cover the full inside of the earlobe to drown out the sounds around you so you can hear your own music.”

“Oh wow, that’s neat.” Eddie put one in and was amazed at the quality. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Lars grinned. “It’s mainly for your drummer. Everyone deserves accommodations for any kind of disability and if the loud noises bother him, it makes it hard for everyone else to concentrate because you guys are worried about him.”

Eddie smiled. “Thanks!”

“It’s a pity that tattoo will never be finished. I could give you the name of my artist if you want!”

“It’s a shame that your tattoo artist wasn’t good enough to finish the tattoo before you left, maybe you could get covered with something else. Something better than that.”

The band was admiring Eddie’s back tattoo.

“I’m really liking the details, man,” Kirk said.

Robert nodded. “Hell yeah. Who’s your artist? He does some really sick work.”

Eddie blushed, grateful his back was too them. “He’s my boyfriend, Stevie.”

“Damn, you’ll never have to pay for another tattoo ever again,” Lars said. “Lucky.”

Jeff laughed. “Nah, knowing Steve, he’d probably charge Eddie an extra mayhem tax.”

Kirk and Lars shared a look and then nodded unison.

“Fair,” the said together.

Eddie yelped, “Hey!”

He turned to Gareth and Brian, but they agreed with Jeff, too.

“And they said I’m the menace.”

“Ooh, honey, let me take you somewhere private. Your boyfriend will never know.”

“It’s a shame he’s gay, all the girls are just gaga for that doe-eyed look of his.”

Eddie turned down another request to share his hotel room. Never mind that he was sharing with all the other members of Corroded Coffin and wouldn’t have had any kind of privacy. Never mind he had a boyfriend back home. Never mind he was gay.

It didn’t seem to matter with these people. Hot rock star equals slut apparently.

“How the hell do you do it?” he asked James. “You have been married to the same woman for twenty five years and you still get women throwing themselves at you.”

“It’s hard,” James said with a shrug. “But she’s more important then any roll in the hay ever will be.”

Eddie nodded, pursing his lips. Steve was more important then any roll in the hay. He could hold on to that.

“I know he’s your friend, but maybe it’s time to get a touring drummer. He can still record with you or whatever. But he’s really holding the band back right now.”

Gareth isn’t just some guy. He was family. He wasn’t even Corroded Coffin’s first drummer that dubious honor went Kyle Creevy, a snot nosed, freckled kid whose arms were barely thicker than the drumsticks he played with. But he moved right before Eddie’s ninth grade year and Gareth just slid into their lives.

They may have been playing at the Nightmare Holes for seven years but the band been together for much longer than that. They had been playing for over a decade. And unless they had someone that could learn their music in mere months were Gareth had taken years...they could fuck off.

God, the members of Metallica had been playing together for forty years and the only change they’d made was when a member fucking died.

“That back tattoo of yours is really not a good look. It’s the biggest part and no one will ever see it.”

Eddie couldn’t make them understand the tattoo wasn’t meant to be seen, it was meant to be felt. To put to feeling growing up as a small town pariah and making it out. Not ending up in jail like his dad or dead like his mom. To be the Freak and turn it into something special. To finally find his wings.

Steve understood. God, he missed Steve so much and he felt like he was pulling away. It was like a rubber band being stretched. It might snap or might not, but whatever happened it would never be the same.

The members of the band’s team shooed these people away when it got to be too much for him.

“Fame and fortune wait for no man. It’s time to lose the dead weight.”

He came close to punching that guy. Some haughty agent they met in Houston.

It was thrilling to watch security throw him out.

“The long hair went out in the eighties, darling. I really think a half shaved look would be better for you.”

Eddie laughed at that last one straight in their face. Kirk fucking Hemmet still had long curly hair, they could fuck the fuck right off.

But then the tour was over. They were going home.

****

Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

[eclipsejynx-writes]

Kist Day 2024 - Cigarette Break.

I, personally, hate to brag, but I wrote 7 pages (if you put it on Google docs).

i'm not really obsessed with this, I don't like how their personalities came out, but then again I knew about Kist day literally yesterday at 7pm so- enjoy!

This is also my first writing on this blog, so yippee!^^

Summary - Dust and Killer never got along together. So when they both wake up in the middle of the night and run into each other, the have a cigarette break. However, will either of them reveal why they were up?

TW - Killer x Dust, cigarettes / smoking, hallucinations (Dust's Papyrus), bloodlust / L.V. high, mentions of attempted murder, g a y

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Killer and Dust were two sides of the same coin; Dust was calm and quiet, never speaking too much, always caught up in his head. He was never caught twice slacking in his work, because though he may hide it well, he was always wary of those around him. Killer was loud, never thinking twice about what he said or did. It was safe to say he was arrogant with his spot as Nightmare’s right-hand after Cross left. He was never concerned about his actions’ consequences. Of course, that led to ‘punishments’ from Nightmare, but he never learned his lesson.

It was late at night, around four in the morning, when Dust woke up from a restless slumber. The voices he heard were more violence-craved than usual, causing him to panic and wake up in distress. It wasn’t anything unusual compared to the countless times he woke up with his magic on with summoned bones. He remembered one specific day vividly. He summoned bones in his sleep that attacked a wall and damaged most of his room. Killer and Horror rushed in and he almost killed them with a gaster blaster. Nightmare came just before it hit them and made a wall to protect them. Nightmare focused his energy towards Dust, or so he’d been told, to divert the negativity away from him to feed off. He remembered waking up in a panic and jolting up from his bed, only to be met with Nightmare scolding him for waking up everyone. He didn’t care too much about the insults, the yelling, or the punishment for not eating for a week and gaining the harder missions. What truly pissed him off was the grin Killer was wearing the whole time while he saw him being chastised. He clenched his fists while glaring, but Killer’s smirk just widened at the sight. It was clear he enjoyed the scenario in front of him, and he didn’t give a damn that Dust was in trouble. He wished Nightmare didn’t block the gaster blaster from Killer’s stupid target soul. That was the day when he declared he officially hated Killer.

His footsteps patted against the wooden staircase as he descended from the third floor to the second. When Nightmare first recruited him, he was easily lost through the twisted labyrinth of the castle. He remembers when he first met Killer outside of Nightmare, he was aimlessly walking around the castle, trying to get a feel of the layout. Killer approached him and, without warning, started teasing his clothing, saying he looked just like Sans. It ticked him off, and Killer could tell. Did that make him stop? No. If anything, Killer just got more persistent. When Dust didn’t react to the insults as much, Killer randomly threw a knife towards him. A fight broke out until Nightmare came and separated them. The whole situation just made his hatred for him grow.

Thinking about Killer made Dust more stressed. It always bothered him how nonchalant Killer was about the whole situation. He took his hood and pulled it further down his head, feeling self-conscious about his face, his identity. He was never comfortable knowing those other versions of himself, so carefree and happy, could’ve been him.

‘Feeling down, Sans?’ Dust sighed at the familiar voice.

“Go away, Papy. I can’t right now,” Dust said deeply, determined to ignore the voices and their pleas for bloodlust.

‘But Sans,’ complained Papyrus, his bodiless figure swirling around Dust, ‘I feel that you feel what I feel! I know you feel the urge-’

“No is no. It’s late.” Dust pushed himself forward, forcing himself to drown out his decapitated brother’s head.

His brother was pissed off. ‘Sans! Now isn’t the time to joke around you lazy skeleton! You’re L.V. is rising, I know it!’ Sans Dust didn’t respond. ‘Who knows?’ Papyrus said, getting closer to Dust’s face. ‘Maybe you could just kill some of your friends-’

“Not my friends,” Dust interrupted again, turning away from his dead brother. “They’re my… teammates, I guess.” Papyrus sighed, floating beside his brother as they stalked the corridors.

The walls were an ashy gray, giving the illusion of being trapped in a void. The only light source was the full Moon shining light through the giant windows on the walls. Dust tried to ignore Papyrus’s nagging by focusing on the other sounds and sights in the castle. However, it was painfully quiet tonight, and nothing interesting in the castle beside him and his brother’s head.

‘It’s pathetic,’ said Papyrus, continuing with his speech. ‘You’ve worked here for… how long? Months? Years? And yet you all hate each other. Isn’t it embarrassing?’

Dust sighed. “I don’t hate Horror. Just Killer and Nightmare.”

‘That just makes him an easy target!’ Papyrus exclaimed, trying to get his point across. Dust looked at Papyrus like he was crazy. Papyrus huffed and corrected himself. ‘Killer’s an easy target, not Nightmare. Killer doesn’t like us either, so it wouldn’t be shocking if you attempted it, anyway. He’s just an emotionless oddity and a loyal dog. We can take him!’ Sighing, Dust just accepted he wouldn’t get out of this conversation no matter how hard he tried to ignore him. ‘When has he ever done anything for us, huh? He hates you. He’s always mocking you, your personality, your traits, everything.’ Papyrus floated in front of him and stared him dead in the eyes. ‘If anything, you should just do it now. It’s not like he’ll be missed, anyways.’ Papyrus scoffed.

“Please, stop,” Dust pleaded. He looked down at the floor, avoiding the gaze of his dead brother as he continued walking the halls.

‘Unless, of course, you’re growing sof-’

“Dust!” A voice echoed through the hallways, snapping Dust out of his trance. Dust perked up and looked around. Papyrus wasn’t in front of him anymore. Unfortunately, what was in front of him was a skeleton with gray shorts with a white stripe, a black, sleeveless shirt, a messy red target in front of his chest, and black tears falling from his eyes in messy strokes.

“Killer,” Dust replied, nodding his head as a greeting. His tone was quiet, not wanting to talk longer than needed. After all, he spent most of the day arguing with him.

Grinning as usual, Killer approached him. “So, watcha up-” Killer started speaking, but Dust was walking past him, attempting to leave the conversation. However, Killer wasn’t much for social cues and turned around to follow. “Geez, rude much?” As if he wasn’t the rudest person Dust met since Papyrus.

“I’m not in the mood,” Dust admitted.

Killer huffed. “Well, that attitude isn’t gonna bring you anywhere.” When Dust didn’t respond, he rolled his eyes and walked beside him. The two roamed the hallway. “So, what are you up for anyway? Unless you’re in a depressive episode as usual, then that would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Killer snickered slightly, but Dust remained quiet. The only noise that filled the air was the sound of trees rustling in the distance, the leaves shaking in the wind. Killer’s grin fell into a frown. It was always hard to tell what Dust was feeling. His hood always cast a large shadow on his face, covering most of his expressions.

“You’re always so boring,” Killer said, his void-like eyes narrowing. “Also weird, but we’re also murderers, so that makes sense, doesn’t it?” It’s not like he was expecting a response. Killer gave an exaggerated groan, flailing his arms up. “You’re so quiet. I don’t like this silence.”

“Well,” Dust argued, “I do.”

“That’s because you’re boring.”

“Oh, shut up.” Dust, deciding he had enough of Killer and his annoying antics, took a sharp corner to a balcony. Maybe he’ll finally have some peace around here.

The night outside was peaceful and quiet, shades of blue, all blurred together like someone took a brush and mixed a bunch of watercolors. The stars were like speckles of paint splattered randomly around the sky, making intricate patterns. The balcony on this floor had a beautiful view, but the balcony itself wasn’t as nice. It was made of gray concrete, just like the rest of the castle, but slightly cracked and chipped. Dust was surprised that it hadn’t collapsed yet.

Dust sighed heavily and leaned on the railing. A nice breath of fresh air was just what he needed. He shoved a hand in his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes.

“Y’know-” Killer started behind him- “those aren’t very healthy.”

“We’re skeletons.” Dust took out a cigarette and flicked the tip. In an instant, the cigarette’s tip lit up with a blue flame. “We don’t have lungs.” Dust put the cigarette in his mouth and slightly relaxed at the familiar feeling of nicotine. Killer huffed but didn’t say anything. Dust was grateful for it.

The two stayed out on the balcony, surrounded by a calming silence. Dust was confused about how Killer could stay so quiet, but he didn’t question it. He didn’t want the fragile silence to shatter the moment he started asking questions. Without saying a word, Killer stood beside Dust, staring into the sky. The wind was a gentle breeze, barely moving Dust’s hood. It was quiet. Too quiet that he could’ve forgotten Killer was there.

Dust couldn’t help himself and mentioned. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Killer chuckled. “What? Worried about me?” There it was. Dust scoffed and blew out a puff of smoke, not even looking in his direction. Killer chuckled. “Can’t take a joke?”

“Not if that joke comes out of your mouth,” Dust shot back, regretting speaking.

Killer frowned and leaned a bit closer to Dust. “Aww~ Did I piss off the emo?” Dust groaned and took a few steps farther from Killer. Snickering, Killer moved closer, trying to get into his personal space. “C’mon! You know I was joking, don’t cha’?” Killer raised his ‘eyebrows’ expectantly, trying to look into Dust’s face.

Instead of responding, Dust took a puff of his cigarette. Maybe if he ignored Killer long enough, he’ll back down. Killer’s smile slightly fell. “... Right.” Noticing the behavior change, Dust glanced toward Killer’s soul and noticed it was shaking slightly. This wouldn’t be unusual when he was fighting, and the opponent was close to him. He’s seen it happen with Outer and Color. Seeing his soul like this in the middle of the night was weird.

Sighing, Dust finally caved in. “Why are you up?” Killer tore his gaze away from the stars and looked at Dust, shocked that he responded.

“Oh, uh… just, couldn’t sleep,” he replied.

Dust hummed, looking down below from the balcony’s view. “Do you want one?” Dust held out the cigarette pack, gesturing for Killer to take it. Killer looked at it before gently taking it out of Dust’s hands. It was almost like he was afraid it would crumble under his touch.

“I don’t have a lighter,” Killer said dryly, holding it back to Dust. “And I don’t smoke.”

“Well,” Dust said, taking a cigarette from the box and flicking the tip, making it light up, “you don’t need one.” Dust smiled, his grin sly as a fox and devilish as a wolf. He handed it to Killer as he eyed the cigarette suspiciously. After carefully taking the cigarette from Dust’s white-gloved hands, he plopped it in his mouth.

Killer looked out into the sky. “Thanks,” he said quietly, still curious about why Dust offered him the cigarette. Dust nodded in a way of saying ‘You’re welcome’ and looked out to the sky with him.

The silence was comforting for Dust. Killer’s foot was tapping the ground rhythmically, making small noises. Of course, it bothered Dust slightly, but he forced himself to ignore it.

“You never answered me,” Killer reminded, trying to fill the void of noise. He took the cigarette out his mouth.“Why are you still awake?”

“I could say the same for you.”

“I did answer!” Killer was a bit annoyed at Dust hiding things.

“You did,” Dust said, “but that doesn’t mean it’s the truth.” Killer opened his mouth to argue, but couldn’t think of anything. Dust could see right through him.

“Pshh, whatever.” Killer put the cigarette back in his mouth, frowning slightly. Dust looked at Killer, his gaze going towards his target soul. “Fine, fine,” Killer said, noticing Dust staring. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and spoke. “It’s just because of this stupid nightmare.” Dust looked up and stared at Killer.

Before bursting out laughing.

Killer groaned. “It’s not funny!” Still, Dust cackled, his cigarette dropping on the balcony. “Dust! You’re making me regret this!” Dust’s laughter slowed down, but he kept snickering. Killer sighed as his soul started to shake and vibrate a bit more. “It’s not that funny.”

“I think it’s funny that you’re so worked up over nothing.”

“Seriously?! I preferred you when you were quiet, Dust.”

“I thought you hated silence,” Dust said, chuckling. He stomped on his cigarette. “Besides, it’s pretty funny.”

“It’s not.” Killer put his cigarette in his mouth and looked away from Dust, crossing his arms over his chest. Dust rolled his eyes, not that Killer could see it, and walked a bit closer to Killer.

“If it makes you feel better, I woke up cause of voices.”

Killer took the cigarette out of his mouth and looked at Dust, confused. “Voices?” Killer questioned. “So, voices are less crazy than a bad dream?”

“Don’t make me punch you.”

“But you love me!” Killer gasped dramatically. “Are you saying our relationship was forged upon lies?!”

“What relationship? You mean you being an ass to me and me dealing with it?”

“If anything,” Killer started, smirking, “that’s the peak of friendship.” Dust scoffed and looked away, not wanting to hear it. “Oh, c’mon Dust! We’ve known each other for over a year! You should know by now that if I annoy you, it means love.” Killer put the cigarette in his mouth and made a heart shape with his hands, smiling childishly.

Dust sighed. “Yeah, right.” He took the cigarette out of Killer’s mouth and put it in his own. “But that’s not my love language.”

Killer, taken aback at the sudden snatching of his cigarette, looked at Dust with wide eyes. His mouth was slightly opened as he stared at Dust smoking the cigarette that used to be his. Dust snickered, his voice deep and gravelly. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“I- You-” Killer stammered, not being able to process what just happened. “You- You practically kissed me!”

Dust looked at Killer like he was crazy, not like anyone could tell. “It’s just a cigarette. Not like we’re making out right now.”

Thoughts still jumbled up, Killer tried to speak against him. “Yeah, but- I mean-”

“If you think this is intimate, then it’s clear you’ve never dated someone before.” Dust took out the cigarette and blew a puff of smoke into Killer’s face. Killer coughed and waved a hand in front of his face, the smell burning his ‘nose’. “You always have a big mouth. It’s weird seeing you so speechless and silent.”

“Well,” Killer started, clearing his throat, “maybe I want to be quiet for a change.”

“That’s laughable.” Dust leaned on the railing once again, the smoke from his cigarette floating into the air.

Killer looked at Dust with a strange expression. Dust side glanced at it. His head was hung lower than usual, and his hands were messing with the bottom of his shirt.

“I’m sorry!” He blurted out, making Dust turn his head completely. When Dust looked at Killer, his cheeks were slightly red. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, “I’m not completely sorry, I just…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. “I mean I’m sorry for always… jabbing, at your back, and… The- The dream I had, that’s why.” Killer looked at Dust. When he didn’t make any movements or signs of reaction, he looked back down. “The dream was that you went crazy and killed me. You were on an L.V. high or something and a gaster blaster hit me.”

“That’s why your soul was weird?” Killer looked at Dust, offended, but nodded anyway. “Hm.”

Killer waited patiently for any other response, but none came. When he looked back at Dust, he just saw him smoking like nothing happened. “... That’s it? No ‘I forgive you’ or ‘In hell I’ll forgive you’? Nothing?”

Dust looked slowly back to Killer before looking out into the sky again. “It’s almost dawn,” he said. “We must’ve been here for around two hours now, huh.”

“I-”

“And here you are, worrying about some dumb dream.” Dust looked at Killer. Though his face was completely covered by his hood, Killer could feel there was no malice in his words. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it by now.” Well… Dust is Dust.

“But you do, don’t you?” Killer looked at Dust like he was stupid. “I’ve always been a pain to you, since…” He thought. “Well, since I met you! I’ve always insulted you, your appearance.”

“Especially my appearance.”

“Heck,” Killer said, ignoring Dust’s interruption, “remember that one time when I gave you a mental breakdown because I took down your hood?”

“Ah.” Dust felt the memory rushing back to him. Killer was poking at his hood too much and eventually pulled it off. It’s where his fear of letting people near him comes from. “Like it was yesterday.”

“So- So why?! Seriously, how-”

Dust grabbed him by his collar and yanked him towards him. Killer was now directly in front of Dust. So close that he could faintly make out his appearance. “Because we’re teammates. I may hate it sometimes… Most of the time, but we’re stuck together. We don’t have to be friends for me to not want to kill you.”

“I beg to differ.”

“K i l l e r .”

“Alright, alright!” Killer shoved Dust’s hand off of his collar and quickly backed away. “Geez, you’re scary.”

“My L.V. is 20,” Dust confirmed. “You should be scared. I could kill you right here, right now, and Nightmare would just replace you with another timeline.” Killer looked at Dust with fear. Dust’s eyes started to glow as his purple magic started to surround his aura.

Dust could hear Papyrus whispering in his ear.

“You’ve insulted me the moment I got here, and you’ve continued with it ever since. You’ve humiliated me, agitated me, and I could make your death anything but swift and painless.” Dust started to approach Killer until his back was against the railing. Another step and Killer would fall over the edge.”

Papyrus’s whispers grew louder.

“But I won’t.”

Papyrus’s whispers faded away into the wind. Killer looked at Dust, his fear replaced with confusion.

“The reason I’m up is because Papy wanted me to kill you. His whispers were loud. Louder than usual.”

Killer looked at Dust, and after so long, he felt an emotion.

“I got up and went out of my room because they hurt. I was scared I would’ve killed you like last time. Remember that day when I almost killed you with a gaster blaster in my sleep? That was him when I was on an L.V. high. I couldn’t control it.”

Killer felt pity.

“I just hate how emotionless you are. You’re always so loud and obnoxious, you never care about consequences. But I do. It also pissed me off how you didn’t care when I got punishments like it was amusing.”

Killer felt shocked.

“But that day, despite how annoying you are, that could’ve gotten you killed, okay? One day I won’t be able to control myself and you’ll get killed. I can feel it. Papyrus almost made me kill you. Yet, you didn’t think much of it.”

Killer felt grateful.

“That scares- Are you even listening to me? I thought I was having a moment with-”

Killer felt loved.

Killer gave a giddy smile and lunged at Dust, hugging him tightly. His arms were wrapped around Dust’s waist as he twirled around in circles on the balcony, laughing in euphoria. Dust yelped in surprise, but Killer didn’t care much. “Killer-! Put me down-” But Killer didn’t dare let go of Dust. He kept spinning around with Dust in his arms.

After a few minutes, Killer set down Dust on the balcony. Dust latched onto Killer’s arm for a bit, feeling dizzy. “S-Sorry, Dust.” Killer laughed awkwardly, helping Dust stand up straight. “I just… I don’t really know.”

“It’s… fine?” Dust was honestly really confused. That was strange.

“Sorry, again. I didn’t mean to be so… emotionless. I don’t really control it-”

“I’m sorry,” Dust said, cutting off Killer. “I know it’s not your fault. We all have… issues, don’t we?”

Killer snorted. “Issues? More like trauma caused by a human child.” Dust sighed. The emotions problem wasn’t going away any time soon, but he’s dealt with it for a year. He’ll live, for the most part. Killer grabbed Dust’s gloves hands in his own, the fabric feeling cold. “But… Thank you. For- For forgiving me.”

“Forgiving… That’s a bit far.” Dust tensed up slightly at the sudden contact, but didn’t move. “It’s more like… a mutual love-hate relationship?”

Killer gave a small gasp. “You love me?”

Dust rolled his eyes and pulled his hands out of Killer’s grasp. “Do not misinterpret my words, Killer.” Killer’s smile turned into a frown. Dust scoffed. “You’re not pulling the puppy eye’s card. It won’t work.”

Killer’s frown turned into a sly smile. “Aww, I thought my puppy face was cute! Disappointing.”

Sighing, Dust took out his cigarette and tossed it over the balcony. Killer frowned. “Hey! What’s the point in taking my cigarette if you’re just gonna throw it away?”

“To be fair, it was mine first.”

“Still-” Before he could say another word, Dust grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him forward. Dust’s lips met with Killer’s in a lustful, rough kiss.

The moment felt surreal. For Killer, at least. Killer gasped through the kiss as his arms slowly wrapped around Dust’s waist, careful not to overstep boundaries. Once his arms were completely around Dust’s waist, he pulled him closer so their bodies were together and close. Dust’s hands guided themselves, tracing over Killer’s neck before wrapping around to put more force into the kiss. Their mouths moved in sync, the taste of cigarettes lingering in their mouths in a burning sensation. Killer felt hungry for the affection and love he longed for, but never received. Dust wanted comfort and reassurance, knowing he wouldn’t lose control from a high.

They both struggled with LOVE.

As Dust tried to pull away, Killer kept pushing forward, not wanting the moment to end. Dust gave a light laugh as Killer’s lips drowned it out.

The two made out on the balcony until the first peak of dawn, the golden bursts of sunlight shining on their faces. Still, they didn’t care. They just stood there in each other’s embrace.

When they finally let go, they stared at each other; Killer’s black eyes shining in the light, and Dust’s face visible, his eyes a crimson red and neon blue. Killer finally spoke. “Did… did you really just kiss me?” He was shocked, but a cheeky grin slowly spread onto his face. 

Dust rolled his eyes. “Surprised I didn’t throw up.”

“Doesn’t answer the question, Dust Bunny.”

“I don’t know,” Dust admitted, pulling down his hood to reveal his face even more. Killer blushed when he saw his face more clearly. Every inch of his face was beautiful to him. “I think you have to kiss me again to find out.”So they both stood on the balcony and kissed again, this time full of passion and L.O.V.E. love.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

oopsie daisy, almost forgot about the ending part-

so, yeah! that's it- It's cute I guess, but I never like what I make so I have to say I hate it- lol. hope you enjoyed! this was a nice one- took me two days, too- thanks to my friend who gave me the idea <3

[salvadorbonaparte]

2024 in Films - Part I

I watched too many films again this year so here's some reviews from the first quarter of 2024

January

Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (1998) - Pretty much the opposite college experience as depicted in 3 Idiots and also there's a scene where a child spontaneously converts to Islam to keep a wedding from happening and that works

Rocky (1976) - I got a little too into that series this year

The Karate Kid (1984) - Turns out the original is actually pretty good and I just watched the bad reboot as a kid! Oops!

Face/Off (1997) - This feels like it should be a fake film within a different film. Why is the face transplant plan A? There are some great scenes though, like the wife not recognising her husband, that made me question if this is actually a really deep exploration of identity. And then it got silly again.

Theater Camp (2023) - Almost makes me wish summer camps were real

Gone are the Days! (1963) - I watched this for Alan Alda's terrible high pitched southern accent but stayed for Ossie Davis infectious energy

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) - Manic Pixie Dream Girl Amnesia. Joke aside, why is it that I can't stand Jim Carrey in comedies but love him in dramas

Moonstruck (1987) - This won an Oscar????

February

That Touch of Mink (1962) - homophobia stops insider trading apparently

Carol (2015) - This probably would have given me a sexuality crisis in 2015

Ay Carmela (1990) - no scene in any film will portray the horror of the civil war and fascism as well as the half eaten dinner table in the abandoned house

Rope (1948) - people only focus on the gay subtext (which is real) but can we pleeaaase talk about the politics of the film

Catch-22 (1970) - did a pretty good job in adapting a book that is really difficult to adapt

Platoon (1986) - This was another entry in my grad school watch list

Pan's Labyrinth (2006) - I wanted to watch this since forever but wanted to wait until I could understand it in Spanish. Well worth the hype.

Rocky II (1979) - a sequel that initially made me go "was this really necessary" but then brought me a lot of joy

Rocky III (1982) - Intricate Rituals

Rocky IV (1985) - A metaphor for the Cold War but also. Bad.

Rocky V (1990) - Bad

Rocky Balboa (2006) - Better but like what the fuck was that editing during the fight

March

Hannah Gadsby: Nanette (2018) - I love when stand up comedy is recommended to me with "this will make you cry and change your life" and then it's true

The Holdovers (2023) - Liked it so much I watched it twice but the guy playing Kountze looked too modern like he definitely knows what an iPhone is

The Zone of Interest (2023) - the banality of evil is kind of a cliché phrase by now but it's real

American Fiction (2023) - clever satire, if I say more it probably turns into an essay

Capote (2005) - Rip Truman Capote you would have loved true crime podcasts. Also this was a continuation of my Philip Seymour Hoffman haunting

An American Werewolf in London (1981) - I love when a werewolf film doubles as survivors guilt

Poor Things (2023) - Horrible

Creed (2015) - Pretty much just Rocky but with a 2015 soundtrack and I'm not mad about it

A Fantastic Woman (2017) - a wrote a long ass review on letterboxd about this film is about loss

Creed II (2018) - As haunted as a sports movie is allowed to get before having to add real ghosts (please tell me there's sports films with ghosts). It's about "like father like son". It's about legacy. It's about being defined by your family names. It's about fatherhood. It's about breaking the cycle.

Creed III (2023) - Finally a film that asks the brave question "what if Rocky V was good?"

Dune (1984) - I liked the worms

The Joel Files (2001) - the story of two families in the third reich and one of them happened to be Billy Joel's

Oppenheimer (2023) - Would have made me insufferable during my teenage physics phase

Shiva Baby (2020) - a film that's also an anxiety attack

Searching for Sugar Man (2012) - insane!!!

Menashe (2017) - first Yiddish film I ever watched

Fruitvale Station (2013) - haunted

I, Tonya (2017) - a film keenly aware of the unreliability and subjectivity of both interviews and biopics, this is a sports biopic but also a moving story about the human need for love and the cycle of abuse and it's also damn funny.

Nosferatu (1922) - both scarier and more boring than the novel and also uniquely blood libel flavoured

Mädchen in Uniform (1931) - people were right this is gay

Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) - Lovecraftian horror for cottagecore lesbians

I do not care if we go down in history as barbarians (2018) - history repeats itself, first as a tragedy then as a farce

La Haine (1995) - I watched this because of my professor :)

A Most Wanted Man (2014) - Philip Seymour Hoffman Haunting Continuation

Ödipussi (1988) - "Mommy calls me Pussi" is an actual quote

13 Little Donkeys and the Sun Court (1958) - Yeehaw???

[iamrizaka]

the symbolism of my headcannon is that before the death of Lee and Michael/as a child, Will wore his hair long.

Long hair symbolizes childhood and innocence, in ancient Greece, boys wore long hair until they reached adulthood and then cut it off and sacrificed to Apollo.

in my version of Will's backstory, until the age of 13, he was a protected and beloved child - at first, his mother Naomi was very loving and did her best to protect her child from bullying because of his dyslexia and social stigma due to the fact that she gave birth to him unmarried.

Then, when he got to the camp, Lee and Michael immediately fell in love with their younger brother and tried to protect him as much as possible - do not let him into the forest, do not let him treat the too seriously injured, make sure that the children of Hermes do not come too close to him.

And Will wears his long hair in pigtails and decorated with flowers as a symbol of his innocence and security.

Then Lee dies and the war begins, Will grieves, cuts off his hair and sacrifices it to his brother, he partially loses his protection and innocence because Michael is all here now.

But when Michael dies and Will finally loses his innocence and protection, he cuts off the rest of his hair and becomes an "adult" - the headman of his cabin and a lovingly-protective older brother/parent figure.

the headcannon

oh yeah, that makes way more sense than whatever i wrote then.

michael and lee helping will with long hair, arguing about what flowers to use for his braids. and will just laughs, swimming in love.

and then the battle of labyrinth happens and lee is dead. his brother is dead.

will cuts his hair and burns it along with his brother's body. he would never have him combing through his hair again.

michael was still with him though- or not, he sacrificed himself on the bridge. will is standing in front of golden shrouds, some of which do not cover a body, like michael's.

will cuts his hair with a dagger - his only weapon, something lee helped him pick - and burns it, just like his siblings' bodies and shrouds are set ablaze.

he is the head counselor, long hair will only be a burden. adults can't be a burden.

[bloody-wonder]

mid-year book tag

1. Best Book You’ve Read So Far in 2024? i have read so many good ones this year but no particular one stands out to me as The Best so i'll name top 5 instead (in the order i read them in): a thousand stitches, doctrine of labyrinths, in other lands, big swiss, my brilliant friend - so, quite a range of genres and tones, as usual :)

2. Best Sequel You’ve Read So Far in 2024? the virtu is definitely my favorite part of doctrine of labyrinths and the tropic of serpents, the second book in the memoirs of lady trent, was just a perfect historical fantasy adventure novel - it's like if jane austen wrote indiana jones except it's also a nature documentary about dragons. last but not least, empire of the damned which came out in march solidified jay kristoff's empire of the vampire as my favorite vampire book series. you might have heard me screaming about it from the rooftops. all three of these sequels, i find, are even better than the previous book in their respective series.

3. New Release You Haven’t Read Yet, But Want To? i'm saving kj charles' death in the spires for the fall since it's a spooky campus murder mystery (i think?) and i also want to read apostles of mercy and so finish lindsay ellis' sci fi series (which i have lost interest in somewhat tbh but i'm nothing if not a completionist lol). i was curious about the familiar but the reviews i've seen don't look too promising so i'm probably not going to prioritize it.

4. Most Anticipated Release For Second Half of 2024? i'm looking forward to kj charles' new romance book, the duke at hazard, as well as the new evander mills mystery, rough pages, but the piece of fiction i'm anticipating the most is actually the radioapple southern gothic au by my favorite fanfic author reminiscentbells. she's going to write the whole thing this summer and start posting in september - i'm so excitedddd😱

5. Biggest Disappointment? emily wilde's encyclopaedia of faeries is the book equivalent of a ghoul wearing the skin of your beloved. i wasn't a fan of a deadly education either😒 was very excited to read gaywyck but the expectations of "jane eyre but gay" which the cover of that book gave me were unfortunately not met🤷‍♀️

6. Biggest Surprise? i didn't think i might be into extreme horror and neither did i fancy myself a sally rooney girlie so i was quite surprised that i liked her conversations with friends as well as the sluts by dennis cooper. will definitely read more from both authors next year. an even bigger surprise however was solitaire which i picked up on a whim after tori came out as ace in the last heartstopper volume. i have a complicated relationship with alice oseman's books mostly due to the fact that i'm years past the target demographic age but still feel compelled to read them bc it seems they're the only mainstream books with prominent aro/ace rep out there. so i didn't expect much and was astonished to discover that tori spring is like looking at a mirror reflection of my 18yo self - uncanny in a fun way. ig i shouldn't be so surprised this turned out to be my favorite oseman book since it's the one with the most mixed reviews lol people like to hate a depressed teenage girl😬

7. Favorite New Author? i have devoured doctrine of labyrinths and the cemeteries of amalo in february so now i can safely say sarah monette aka katherine addison is one of my favorite authors. each of her series has a different tone but there are consistent themes of real or magical disability and non amatonormative relationships which are explored in creative ways throughout her stories. i also like her worldbuilding quite a bit, especially the naming systems and fantasy terminology. i read more books by celeste ng as well as by vale aida - both are likely to become favorite authors too. in the latter's case - provided she writes a sequel to hostis. if not, i shall never forgive her😅

8. Newest Favorite Character? okay this is just impossible to narrow down! first of all, liathe from empire of the damned bc i want her Gender: wearing a porcelain mask and a splendid crimson coat, formally bowing to her adversaries before she beats the shit out of them with her blood sword, referring to herself by the royal we and hissing every time she speaks - character of all time material right there. behold my beautiful girl who has done nothing wrong!🥰

(official illustrations by bon orthwick)

secondly, elliot schafer bc he's the most obnoxious prickly boy in other lands and yet everyone wants him carnally lol. i adore his internal monologue - probably the best i've read in ya. his dialogue too tbh - his cutting repartee game is off the charts. honestly, he's just my favorite type of character: a mean bisexual gremlin who scolds people so creatively that they fall in love with him on the spot. what more can you ask.

finally, i have to mention that to my great surprise i liked mildmay more than felix harrowgate🤯 idk felix is this cunty traumatized savant which is a character archetype i'm used to liking so it was a safe bet. the opposites attract sidekick or love interest of such a character is usually not my cup of tea but mildmay is the exception that proves the rule ig. mostly it's bc of his unusual manner of speaking with those funny slang turns of phrase and just generally the contrast between his expressive internal monologue and his reserved demeanor. as a result, he easily rivals felix as the most interesting guy in the book. such excellent character work! taking my hat off to monette🎩

9. Newest Fictional Crush? i reserve this question for that special kind of obsession only a very particular character can inspire and this year it's alastor from hazbin hotel. which, i know, is not a book but i have read so much alastor fanfic in the last few months that he's basically like a book character to me at this point lol

💕Best Ship💕 elliot schafer and luke sunborn are very cute. i don't usually go for cute but here we are. especially after reading that short story from luke's pov i realized i just need more of these two together😌 felix and mildmay with their unholy magic bdsm union - need i say more? forbidden ship that watered my crops. last but not least, i'm currently trudging through the realm of the elderings bc of fitz and the fool and as of assassin's quest it finally started paying off: i'm being queerbaited and asking for more🥲

10. Book That Made You Cry? a thousand stitches is such a wholesome cozy book and it made me cry multiple times the way that a nostalgic movie from childhood can make you cry sometimes. especially the pug scene😭 the scenes of thara celehar walking the corn maze in the cemeteries of amalo made me cry a lot too. the symbolic depths addison is able to achieve with the labyrinth motif, the exploration of grief and forgiveness and letting go - unparalleled🤌

11. Book That Made You Happy? a thousand stitches made me happy! especially the pug scene!!😅 honestly it was like watching a disney movie back when they were good except also more relatable bc atwater's characters read neurodivergent and aspec-coded to me. love how she maintains that the kiss of true love that breaks the faerie curse doesn't have to be romantic. re-reading the three musketeers made me very happy too - it's one of my top 10 favorite books of all time and i was kinda nervous i might not like it as much as an adult. well the joke's on me bc now i can confirm it's one of the best books ever written😊 reading in other lands and big swiss cheered me up a lot too bc they're just so damn funney😄

12. Favorite Book Adaptation You Saw This Year? haven't seen a lot of adaptations so ig dune part two wins by default. twas a fine movie. the wheel of time is also a nice show in my opinion but i didn't read the source material so idk how good it is adaptation-wise🤷‍♀️

13. Favorite Review You’ve Written This Year? my favorite ones are probably the ones i wrote about the three musketeers and in other lands but i think i also wrote some good critical/negative reviews of the mask of mirrors and of the vorkosigan books i read this year (1 2 3)

14. Most Beautiful Cover? behold the cover of the voyage of the basilisk!🤩 i want to frame it and hang it on my wall so that i can gaze at it adoringly and connect with my inner ishmael

(art by todd lockwood)

i also like this vintage romance cover of gaywyck and the uk covers of the farseer trilogy. it's a shame that the books are not as good as the covers led me to believe. especially in the case of gaywyck - this cover is Such A Vibe! but alas

15. What Books Do You Need To Read By The End of The Year? in terms of series i want to finish the memoirs of lady trent, read one more witcher book, at least a couple vampire chronicles and then reread swordspoint and hopefully complete that series too. other fantasy i want to get to at last is fire & blood and the hands of the emperor - both are big and intimidating tho. for my classics challenge i need to finish a couple of tomes i'm reading slowly throughout the year and then also read the name of the rose. american psycho and mona awad's bunny have been on my tbr for ages - maybe i'll finally read them this fall. and i also want to finish reading kj charles' backlist bc the completionism drive is stronger than the fear of having no kj charles to read lol

i never do things a normal amount - every time i take up new media i go all in. so i had a musicals phase, a movies phase, a tv show phase - each lasting a few years and then i barely watched any of these once the phase ended. which is why i've been wondering if my current Book Phase is about to wrap up soon but, given how many books i managed to read since january, it sure doesn't seem that way. instead, it feels like the more i read the better i am at finding books that i'm likely to enjoy - which leads to more reading. and i cannot complain about that tbh😁📚

tagging @magpiefngrl @doh-rae-me @oliviermiraarmstrongs @fugitoidkry @pinkasrenzo @counterwiddershins @figuringthengsout @sugarbabywenkexing @fandomreferencepending @venndaai @weirdsociology @sixappleseeds @theodoradove

please tell me what you've been reading this year (if you want)! one can't have too many book recs👀

goodreads │ old mid year tags 2020 2021 2022 2023

[blood-orange-juice]

Since you asked me, I have asks for you! And I'll do anything for an opportunity to pick your brain:

5. Share one of your strengths

13. What's the best writing advice you've ever come across?

14. What's the worst writing advice you've ever come across?

33. How do you feel about crack? (The fanfic genre, not the stimulant)

37. Talk about your current WIPs

38. Talk about a review that made your day

That's quite a compliment ^^'

5. Share one of your strengths

I've been told it's side characters. They just spawn in the text and charm everyone.

13. What's the best writing advice you've ever come across?

That the best way to learn is trying to imitate writers you love. Simply rereading already helps a lot, and my favourite exercise is taking a paragraph I've already written and rewriting it in someone else's style. It teaches you so much

Also (can I have two favourite ones?) one I actually took from Russian lit class in school. The teacher talked about how Chekhov was very dry in his descriptions (the Western world mostly knows him as a playwright but Russian kids study his short stories first) and that summer night has already been described thousands of times, we know how a summer night looks. It's enough to write "shattered glass glittered in the moonlight"

So I try to ask myself whether a thing I want to show has already been described by enough people. Sometimes it works better to focus on a fun detail and let the readers' imagination do the rest

14. What's the worst writing advice you've ever come across?

It wasn't really an advice, just a popular attitude that you need to cut everything from prose that doesn't serve the plot

Yes, kill your darlings and yeet that sentence to the scrap pile, texts need to be condensed. But also texts need to breathe and plot-irrelevant details help with worldbuilding

33. How do you feel about crack? (The fanfic genre, not the stimulant)

I greatly appreciate the genre and I think it's the hardest thing to write

37. Talk about your current WIPs

Labyrinth Warriors chilumi edition, I'm stuck at trying to learn how write innuendo. Turns out I can't write romance to save my life

Also I'm trying to rewrite the 3rd chapter of Transcendere because I deviated from the original plan there and just wrote angst instead of unhingeness

38. Talk about a review that made your day

I refuse to pick one

When I asked Saoki if Transcendere was over-the-top angsty and they replied with "no, it reads as the story of someone that was handed a knife without a hilt and told to not come back without a bushel of grass". I still think about it (it's a lovely review to get but also it sums up the character so well)

Also when you were quoting parts of Ephemeris that were about understanding/kinship with comments like "why did this turn me on". MY AUTISTIC ASS WAS VERY HAPPY

Also when Lim wrote the progression of their reactions to Alexey because oh my god :D

Also Ray awarding me a PhD in Childe ^^

Thank you for the ask! <3

ask game

[brookbee]

I know people are either following me because I used to post about Star Trek constantly or because I post about Bowie a lot, so here’s some random David Bowie and Star Trek connections I’ve been collecting for the past year or so. This is purely self-indulgent, but if you find this sort of thing interesting, here you go.

This is from an unpublished interview for Zygote magazine from 1971 where he was discussing the meaning of various songs. The particular song he's talking about here is "The Supermen." In case you don't want to read the full article for context, he mentioned Star Trek to act as a comparison, he was not saying that that was the initial inspiration/meaning.

This ad has song notes that Bowie wrote for the album Hunky Dory. The one of relevance is “Bewlay Brothers,” which is at the bottom of the list. It says, “Another in the series of David Bowie confessions — Star Trek in a Leather Jacket.”

You might be wondering what this means, well Bowie never really gave a consistent answer as to what this song was about. And according to Ken Scott, the producer of the album, Bowie purposefully wrote it to give a song to Americans who were reading too much into things (this was in the era of the Paul McCartney actually died and was replaced conspiracy lol). Bowie did say at different points that it was more or less about his own half-brother, but who knows if he changed his mind about that.

Although as a side note I will say that some of the lyrics sound like they could be describing Star Trek episodes lol

My Life With Bowie: Spider From Mars by Woody Woodmansey (drummer for the Spiders From Mars, Bowie’s band during the Ziggy Stardust era). He’s describing the bar in The Rainbow Room, as they were rehearsing for the most elaborate of the Ziggy Stardust concerts in August of 1972.

Mick Ronson talking about the Ziggy Stardust boots, the clip is from the documentary Beside Bowie: The Mick Ronson Story. Angie, in case people don’t know, was Bowie’s first wife.

Side note about this one though, Bowie compared his own boots to wrestler boots (see image below). But Mick’s shoes weren’t far off from the Star Trek boots.

Book page from Moonage Daydream: The Life and Times of Ziggy Stardust, which was written by David Bowie and photographer Mick Rock.

Bowie in Brussels in 1978 doing (his best attempt at) the Vulcan LLAP salute, photo by Gie Knaeps.

Because I’m me, I’ve been trying to figure out what song he did this during—with certainty I can say it was during the second half of the set after the intermission. That would make it so that they were either songs from Ziggy Stardust or from Station to Station.

My guess (and it really is only a guess) is that it could have been during “TVC15.” When he performed it live he’d often sing “she’s my main creature feature” and sometimes do devil horns with his fingers and whatnot. Seems like a plausible spot, anyhow. The other one is potentially the song “Ziggy Stardust,” but just based on how he usually performed that one, such as where he’d add gestures and how he tended to convey the emotions of the song, I find it more unlikely.

But I wasn’t there and these are literally just guesses. On the off chance someone was there and that they inexplicably remember this, I would love to know.

Gates McFadden, before being Beverley Crusher in Star Trek: The Next Generation, was the choreographer for the film Labyrinth, where of course Bowie played Jareth the Goblin King.

And to avoid possible confusion, she was not the choreographer for "Magic Dance" at least when it came to Bowie's moves, as that was Charles Augin. She was, however, the choreographer for "As The World Falls Down" with the ballroom scene.

Lyrics from one of the Tin Machine albums (Bowie’s band in the late 80s-early 90s, which Bowie wrote most of the lyrics for, minus a few songs).

Additionally Iman, who Bowie met in 1990 and married in 1992, was in Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country as Martia. She was on set filming at least in April of 1991 in LA, as you can see in this filming schedule I found on an auction website. I don’t know how long she was filming for, though.

(Side note, Bowie was in LA at least towards the end of April/beginning May as he talked about how he and Iman saw the riots that happened then. No I’m not saying he visited the set, since for one Shatner says he never met Bowie, but I still think it’s neat he was generally around when she was filming).

And a little snippet from one article (the screenshot is from one of those interview compilation books).

It’s not actually that much in the grand scheme of things and more than anything just shows that Bowie was a fan of the show. It should also be remembered that Star Trek wasn’t ever really cited as a huge influence for him in terms of aesthetic, which is a rather common assumption people make, but I thought that these were fun nonetheless. I’m sure I also missed/forgot stuff, so if I come across more I'll probably add to this later on.