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random-fandom1984 · 11 days ago

Note

Hey there

Could I please get some Platonic Yandere G1 Soundwave with a teen reader?

Thanks

Since you didn't specify what the reader's gender is, or you just don't care -- by default -- the gender is a girl. Sorry for my male audience.

Clinging to Sanity, or Embrace the Fantasy

It was nighttime. A full moon lighting up the sky, accompanied by the blissing, shining stars. Pushing up the window in your bedroom, allowing the sounds of muffled arguing to echo outside. You dropped a bag, pieces of metal clanging from within upon compact. You climbed out, your hands gripping the edge of the window before letting go; it was only a small drop.

Grabbing the bag's handles and pulling it on your shoulder as you ran. This was almost becoming a weekly thing now. Your parents would argue for god knows how long ever since you were just a little girl. And when they're not, and you're alone with one of them, they'd talk and rant to you about how much they hate the other, like you're the psychiatrist and not their child.

You would secretly leave and head to your own place of Zen, your place of work that's open 24/7, where you would repair things that people would leave you. It can be a boom box, a radio, a record player, the popular cellular phone, even a cassette player. The company you work for is a big business that they give their employees their own offices/work rooms that are reinforced with sound-proof walls, for both privacy and not to disturb their fellow workers.

Walking down the sidewalk with only the streetlamps guiding your path; the cool, crisp air breezing past you in such a calming way, slowly pushing the fresh memory of the angry, loud shouts from your parents from your mind. You wished your older sister was there, but she's off living her freedom away from that damned house. They haven't even called after they left, not even to you. You saw the neon-glowing sign of the workplace up ahead.

Pushing the door open, a familiar ring-ding echoing loudly to get whoever was working at the receptionist desk's attention. The warm air-conditioning hitting my skin, making me shiver from the stark contrast of the outside. Behind the counter was Vannessa, dyed rainbow tips in her hair, heavy mascara and eyeliner on her face, accompanied by two small, light blue bows, with white bunny heads with "X"'s over the eyes, on both sides of her head (Inspired by teenager! Vanessa made by @chloesimaginationthings, lovely job btw). She's fun to hang out with if she isn't in a bad mood.

She glanced up, greeted me with a small wave, a corner of her lips perking up before it returned to its bored, neutral expression, putting her attention back on her phone. I walked past her and down the corridor where the walls are lined with doors to different offices, a couple bathrooms, and a janitor's closet. Once you approached your door, the backdoor was slammed open and entered Jerry with a box of wares. "FOUNDER'S FRIDAY!!" He happily shouted.

"Hell, yeah!" You exclaimed, this day couldn't possibly be any better. You loved Founder's Friday's and so does about every other employee in this building. It's been around ever since Jerry joined, which was a long time before you were hired. It would be a chance of luck if a day like this happens; Jerry would find random, abandoned wares and junk, and once he gets what is considered enough, he brings it here for the other employees to scavenge in, what they do with it is up to them. The choices are to take it apart and use it for spare parts or keep it to repair it and use for your own personal use.

"Hey, Y/n, can you help me with the doors?" He asked. You're always the one he asks because your door is always the closest to the backdoor. You nodded, closing the backdoor as he walked off to the lounge. You walked past his slow-moving figure and opened the door for him. He walked into the lounge and set it on the table, metal clanging from within. "Thanks. Let me guess, bad day at home?" He asked, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead. "Yeah..." You grumbled, already digging into the box. You were good on supplies and parts, so you're looking for something to keep, but so far, nothing has caught your attention.

Then you found something peculiar. It was a tape player, one that seems to play music by looking at the cassette tape in its little window. Its main color was a dark blue, the second main color was white, and highlighted with a purple emblem, one that seems familiar, but you can't put your finger on it. There seemed to be a sticker on the window, a big yellow star.

You walked out of the lounge with the tape player as other employees were approaching, crowding around the table upon entering. You opened the door to your office and sat down at your desk. You opened the cassette and observed the tapes inside. You picked up one and played it, the familiar song plays: We're Not Gonna Take It by Twisted Sister. You set it to the side, next to a little robot that is immobile, and got to work on a ware from a client, slightly bobbing your head to the music.

(Time-skip)

It's been about a month since that day. The arguing has gotten worse that you started sneaking out daily, hanging out in your office with your cassette player waiting. It has become your comfort object. The little robot that was mentioned before, you made it to make yourself think you're talking to someone about your problems at home, about how much you missed your sister and you'd wish she'd be here or at least call, about how much you hate your parents arguing, and with them telling you stuff about the other, it started making you hate your parents.

But your parents started getting couple's therapy, and you brought your cassette with you, to listen to as you do your schoolwork. The arguing has almost disappeared. Almost.

As they were arguing, covering your ears with your pillow wrapped around the back of your head, trying to muffle the sounds. You couldn't take it anymore! In a frenzy, you quickly grabbed your bag, forgetting about your cassette. It wasn't until you reached your work, entered your office that you'd forgotten it. It's fine, you told yourself. "I can get it after work..." You muttered, getting to work on a project to take your mind off of the events.

Once you arrived home, you saw a note that they left to their jobs. Crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash, passing by an old family photo, back then when everyone was happy - you think. Your mother had one kid -- a daughter -- before she married your present father. Her name is Carly, and she's currently attending MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology), took after the appearance of her bio-dad, blond hair and pretty blue eyes. And then there was you in the photo, in a swaddle and only had been born a month ago before that very picture was taken. Looking at photos of the past like this really makes you wish things could go back.

You grabbed some pj's from your room and then entered your bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet and took some melatonin. You changed your clothes, tossing the dirty ones in the hamper. You closed the bathroom door behind you, approaching your bed, got under the covers. With eyelids feeling heavy, you closed them, not even catching the sound of something transforming as you drowsed off to sleep.

---

It was supposed to be a mission to get information through someone who was a family or friend of those human Autobots. But it all changed when he had been forced to stay hidden while in your quote-on-quote possession like an everyday object.

You would always talk to that small but adorable looking pile of junk like it were a living being that's lending an ear, while he was right there. Listening. The one thing he wasn't expecting was heart-wrenching info about your personal life at home. How much you'd wish for your dear sister to be around again. How much for peace in the family.

But he can see it as clear as day and knows you do too, but you keep putting yourself in denial, gripping onto that dwindling hope that everything would change for the better. But they will. At least, in the way he's thinking.

When you accidentally left him at the house, it only took a few more minutes before their arguing drifted on about you, negatively. It filled him with fury. Organics or any other living beings such as them don't deserve someone like you. Every time you'd unknowingly talk to him, he can tell that you have a kind spirit, a childish soul that's slowly dying the more you're around their presences. Those kinds of people that are like you no longer exist in the war that going on; So rare that you'd have a better luck at finding little bits of Dark Energon in the darkest corners in the galaxy. They were either killed or they changed, becoming a cold, serious husk of the bot they once were.

So, he made up his mind. He'd take you back to the Decepticon base, put your consciousness in another body -- a Cybertronian body -- and change your memories; you don't need them if they'd bring you such misery. You're better off being with people who would care about you. His minicons kids have already liked you, they find you interesting. They already know about his plan with you and they'd be happy to be the siblings you deserve, unlike that Carly girl.

Once you were dead asleep, Soundwave transformed into robot-mode, carefully picking up your body and left the house. Then he traveled to Cybertron via spacebridge, and had Shockwave start building you a body as you were put in a stasis pod. Once it was done, you were taken out of the pod, but was still asleep, and were put through the transfer and memory change.

---

PART 2 COMING SOON!! It's already in the works.

#transformers g1 #transformers #g1 #soundwave #reader insert #yandere #platonic #platonic yandere #tfg1 #ravage #frenzy #rumble #laserbeak

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biggerbetterbat · 1 year ago

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WITH YOU [15] WE HAVE CANDIES

Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed

Summary: The searching is interrupted by a tragic accident. Glenn is afraid of his life.

Warnings: language, drugs

Song: Afraid The Neighborhood

A/N: Hello :)I'm coming with an announcement. This week I'll be posting a chapter every two days, so I can write a backup for the next week. I'm going on a trip and I won't have time to write and I don't know if my wi-fi will take this, so…ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!

WITH YOU ON WATTPAD

A loud bang was heard in the air. Charlie's hand almost automatically went to grab Daryl's forearm as he was the closest to her. He looked down at her with furrowed eyebrows."It's okay, it's nothing."

She nodded her head, letting out the breath she was holding and Daryl's arm, so she could look back a Lori, who was turning her head in searching for something. When Daryl felt a lack of her presence, he also stopped and looked behind his back. "We have to move. It's getting dark."

So they did. But Charlie was checking up on Lori from time to time, just to see if they had another worried mother on the board and if she was still with them. When Andrea saw what Charlie was doing, she looked over at Lori."Are you still worrying about it?"

The question made everyone stop.

"That was a gunshot," Lori replied.

Dixon looked around to see if a real threat wasn't approaching them. "We all heard it."

"Why one? Why just one gunshot?"

"Maybe they took down a Walker." Charlie shrugged, trying to be compassionate.

"Please don't patronize me," Lori replied angrily. "You know Rick wouldn't risk a gunshot to put down one Walker. Or Shane. They'd do it quietly."

"Shouldn't they have caught up with us by now?" Carol asked, adding fuel to the fire with this question.

"There's nothing we can do about it anyway," Daryl answered, annoyed. "Can't run around these woods chasing echoes."

"So what do we do?" Charlie asked.

"Same as we've been," said Dixon. "Beat the bush for Sophia, work our way back to the highway."

"I'm sure they'll hook up with us back at the RV," said Andrea, but before moving forward she turned towards Carol. "I'm sorry for what you're going through. I know how you feel."

Charlie was looking at it with one brow raised up. She didn't know why, but the whole act wasn't knocking on her doors. Andrea was trying to be everywhere and that was getting annoying. Because now she might have felt remorse about yesterday and not showing Carol support on the highway. But Charlie knew that it was temporary, in a moment she would do something that would bring them to the point zero.

"I suppose you do. Thank you." Carol gave her pale smile. "The thought of her out here by herself...It's the not knowing that's killing me. I just keep hoping and praying she doesn't wind up like Amy." she cried but then opened her eyes wider as Andrea's face fell. "Oh, God. That's the worst thing I ever said."

"We're all hoping and praying with you, for what it's worth." she squeezed Carol's arm.

Charlie heard the huff next to her and right after that, Daryl was moving towards two women

"I'll tell you what it's worth...Not a damn thing. It's a waste of time all this hoping and praying." he said and Carol almost broke down into tears. "Cause we're gonna locate that little girl, she's gonna be just fine," he told her sure of his words. Then he just turned and with open arms looked around. "Am I the only one zen around here? Good Lord."

Charlie smiled. He was showing his different side to all of them, Daryl was just a big softie. The way he was talking to Carol and trying to calm her down, and in fact actually calming her down. He was slowly becoming part of the group.

"We'll lose the light before too long," he said, trying to get through the high grass.

"Let's head back." Charlie nodded.

"We'll pick it up again tomorrow?" Carol looked at the group with eyes full of hope.

"Yeah, we will find her tomorrow." Lori nodded her head and looked deep into Carol's eyes.

So they headed back to the highway. Charlie was again walking next to Daryl and she observed him carefully, how he was placing his feet, how he was looking around searching for danger. It was all so surreal that he was walking through the bushes as if he was born there. He knew exactly where he should turn and in which direction they should go.

"How much farther?" Andrea asked.

"Not much," he answered. "Maybe a hundred yards as the crow flies."

"Too bad we're not crows."

And Charlie was opening her mouth to answer her complaint, but she didn't have a chance.

A loud scream fell from Andrea's lips. They all started yelling her name and running in her direction. Charlie felt her blood run cold as they saw the woman on the ground with a Walker trying to get to her.

"Lori!" Charlie yelled. "Give me your gun. Lori!"

But her arms were trembling with nerves and before she could do something, the mysterious person on a horse came to the rescue, hitting the dead with a baseball bat.

As it turned out it was a girl who saved Andrea. She had short hair, a blue shirt, and a bat in her hand. The hero nervously looked down at the blonde woman. "Lori? Lori Grimes?"

"I'm Lori," she said while running to where the mysterious girl was.

"Rick sent me. You've got to come now."

"What?" Lori furrowed her eyebrows.

"There has been an accident." the girl informed. "Carl's been shot. He's still alive, but you gotta come now. Rick needs you. Just come. "

"Woah. Woah. Woah." Daryl moved so he was standing between the horse and Lori. "We don't know this girl. You can't get on that horse."

In response, the girl looked at Dixon with firm eyes, but then she looked around and her eyes met Glenn's. "Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl? "

"Uh-huh." he nodded.

"Two miles down is our farm," she said. "You'll see the mailbox. The name is Greene."

After that, she just started riding away with Lori holding her tight. And they were gone.

Charlie looked at Glenn who was looking after the girl and she smiled. He was totally stunned by her, and the funny face expression was plastered on his face to the moment they were back next to the RV.

"Shot?" the man in a bucket hat furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean shot?"

"I don't know, Dale. I wasn't there." Glenn answered out of breath. "All I know is this chick rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori."

"And stole Glenn's heart," Charlie said while passing the older man.

He widened his eyes at the information, turning to Daryl. "You let her?"

"Get out of my asshole man," Daryl answered, passing Dale by, not caring about his nasty looks. "Rick sent her. She knew Lori's name and Carl's. We have to go there as soon as possible."

And he moved away from the group that was still fighting to catch their breaths." Hey! Wait!" she ran after Daryl. "You want us to leave?"

"Yeah," Daryl said while opening the bottle of water. "We have to find that farm. Check up on that boy."

"But what with Sophia? What with Carol?" Charlie asked. "She wouldn't want to leave."

He looked at her skeptically, not knowing what she really wanted from him at this moment. "So?"

"I have an idea." she held her arms up. "What if we split?"

Daryl scoffed and from looking at her almost without blinking, he turned his head away.

"Yeah, no," he said. "We did it once, and look where it took us."

"Daryl, please. That's the only option, you know this." she touched his arm. "We sent some people to the farm and I can stay here, wait through the night and if nothing happens I will join you," Charlie explained.

He was really impressed by how much she wanted to find this girl and how quick she was with ideas. There was also this bright thing in her eyes, that he hadn't seen for a while, and finally, that was was convinced him to just nod his head. He still wasn't a big fan of the splitting up part, but he did know that that was the only way, especially when he heard Carol saying: "I won't do it. We can't just leave."

"Carol, the group is split." he tried to reason at first. "We're scattered and weak."

"What if she comes back and we're not here?" Carol asked. "It could happen."

Charlie and Daryl both knew that chances for that were close to impossible, but none of them had the heart to say it to her. Especially, when Andrea decided to back her up. "If Sophia found her way back and we were gone, that would be awful."

"Okay. We got a plan for this." Daryl looked at Charlie."I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies." he explained and then did something that made Charlie's brows furrow. "I'll hold here tonight, stay with the RV."

"If the RV is staying, I am too," said Dale.

"Thank you," Carol said, looking at Dale. Then she turned to Daryl and Charlie. "Thank you both."

"Well, if you're all staying..." Glenn said.

"Yeah. Not you Glenn." Dale interrupted him. "You're going with Charlie. Take Carol's Cherokee."

"Me? Why is it always me?" the Asian boy huffed.

"Yeah. Why is it always us?" Reed backed him up.

"You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people, and see what's going on. But most important..." the older man answered.

"What is it Dale?" she furrowed her eyebrows.

"You have to get T-Dog there. This is not an option," he said. "That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm. See if they have any antibiotics. Because if not, T-Dog will die, no joke."

Without a word, Daryl walked away from the group and started looking for something in a bag that was attached to his motorcycle. When he found what he was looking for, he threw a cloth at Dale's face and then put a plastic bag on the hood of a car. "Keep you oily rags off my brother's motorcycle. Why would you wait till now to say anything? Got my brother's stash. Crystal, X. Don't need that." he said and then threw Glenn a bottle. "Got some kick ass painkillers." then he put his hand inside a bag and took out one more bottle, throwing it at Charlie. "Oxycycline. Not the generic stuff either. It's first class. Merle got the clap on occasion." he said and before she had a chance to walk away, he called her name. "And Charlie...you take this. Expect you to give it back though."

He handed her his little gun that was returned by Lori. "Yes, boss."

"Okay, we have candies. Let's go." Charlie as she moved towards the car, grabbing the handle.

"Woah, woah." Glenn stopped his moves and just stood there holding up T-Dog. "You're driving?"

"Yeah. Chill out, Glenn." she smiled and entered the car. "I'm an excellent driver," she murmured to herself, touching the steering wheel.

Asian boy sighed and turned to the group that was left, waving his hand. "Bye, guys! A pleasure to know you!"

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon series

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jodiespolaroids · 11 months ago

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New Jodie interview. Please someone drop the name of her pup.

It's behind a paywall, so if you want to read it, it's below the cut!

It was a gamble that few actresses would have dared to take. After four years making her name as the charismatic psychopath Villanelle in Killing Eve, Jodie Comer rolled the dice — and changed her life.

Having not acted on stage since she was 16, Comer risked her growing reputation to star in a one-woman show in the West End. Prima Facie proved a sensation and transferred to Broadway. And last year the Liverpudlian won the most prestigious theatre awards on both sides of the Pond — an Olivier and a Tony — and, aged 30, entered a new era. The Com-era, perhaps?

Today she is a fully fledged film star, taking her first leading role in The End We Start From — a smart, bold post-apocalyptic indie drama about a mother (Comer) and her baby (not Comer’s baby). The film already has nine nominations for the British Independent Film awards, and Baftas should follow.

Comer is in a car with a lively dog when we talk via Zoom. She is in a black hoodie, with her long blonde hair loosely tied, and seems extraordinarily calm — except when the dog leaps across the screen. Her Zen is worth mentioning because the last time I saw her was when she prowled the stage with fear and fury in Prima Facie, playing a barrister who defends men accused of sexual assault before she is sexually assaulted herself. One woman going full throttle in defence of all women.

“My sleep was all over the place,” Comer says of her stint playing Tessa. “It’s tricky when you do something emotional. You think, ‘OK, it’s not real.’ But there is some part that tricks your body into believing that what you’re saying and feeling is a real experience. It becomes important to take care of yourself. With theatre it’s kinetic. You’re sharing space with 900 people.

“It’s … it’s tough. But clearly something I love putting myself through.” She pauses. “Yeah, I underestimated Prima Facie. Totally. I just didn’t know what to expect.”

It was not her first ordeal either. She’s drawn to gruelling roles, from Ridley Scott’s The Last Duel, in which her character, Marguerite de Carrouges, was the victim of a rape, to Help, the bleak Channel 4 care home Covid drama. There was also Free Guy, a video-games blockbuster with Ryan Reynolds, but when I ask if Comer is tempted to pick something else fun as a break from Prima Facie, she explains that having a laugh is not enough.

“I like to be in a difficult place,” she says. “A place of self-discovery. Where I feel challenged. With Free Guy that part of me that comes away from my work feeling that I had to dig deep was missing … I came away thinking, ‘Wow, I’ve had so much fun.’ And that should be enough. But I like anything that holds a mirror up to this human experience. It’s just what I’m drawn to.”

Which leads us to The End We Start From. The film is directed by Mahalia Belo and takes place in modern-day London, telling the tale of Mother (Comer), whose waters break just as Britain experiences mass flooding. Metaphors à gogo, but the film works superbly as an intimate study of how an individual deals with a global disaster. How can a parent protect a baby as society collapses?

Comer is barely seen on screen without a baby. The crew had to use several because strict rules mean each infant can only work for 20 minutes at a time. (There are agencies that expectant parents use to sign their unborn child up to a film company.)

We all know an actor should never work with children or animals, but a baby is a whole other, wriggly challenge. Comer really does nothing by halves. How hard is it to act with one? “It’s such a lesson,” says Comer, who is not a mother. Did it come naturally? “Oh God, no!”

“The smallest baby was eight weeks,” she explains, smiling softly. “At first my hands were visibly shaking. My younger cousins have grown up now, so I’m not around babies an awful lot. It felt like a huge responsibility. I thought, ‘Wow, they’re so fragile.’ But I became more comfortable, sometimes to my detriment! There are scenes where we needed a baby to cry but I was soothing him instead. The crew would shout ‘Stop!’” She pauses. “I was kind of falling in love with them.”

The film shows the thrill of being a first-time parent much more than the panic. As prep for Prima Facie Comer watched cases at the Old Bailey. What did she do for this? “My best friend had a baby before filming, so I was able to ask personal questions,” Comer says. “I also spent time with midwives — there is a birthing sequence and I wanted to know about the physicality, where you feel pain giving birth. Having not had a child myself, I wanted women to see the truth in what they saw.”

It comes as no surprise that Belo was inspired to direct her first feature film after giving birth during the pandemic. “Your whole body gets taken over by this beautiful thing,” Belo says about being a mother. “Every part of your body is different from then on and it’s not only that — all your relationships are different too. You’ve got this other sound going on, that’s about your children. I wanted to represent that.”

The End We Start From is a film so clearly made by a woman who has young children, you can almost smell the nappies. Post-apocalyptic films usually star a man walking in a desolate landscape alone with his thoughts, and a dog. So it is quietly revolutionary to focus on a woman and her newborn.

“I think so,” Comer says. “What I love is that it’s a woman who is the everyday hero — we always see men with a superhero quality facing this situation. But here it is a woman many will feel they know. She’s not scaling buildings, or jumping over bridges. The story is deep-rooted in her psyche and emotion. It’s refreshing.”

The film also grapples with climate change. “Endless amounts of rain — I can’t see anything out of the window …” Comer says with a sigh as she looks out of the car at a very wet Britain. Belo, who lives in east London, made the film as her neighbourhood in Walthamstow suffered unprecedented flooding. When she consulted flood experts, their conversations were bleak. “Sea levels are rising, rainfall is becoming more extreme. We are an island; things are going to go wrong and we’re not prepared. We know what’s happening.”

For some The End We Start From will just be a stirring story of the lengths that we go to protect our children. Others, though, will locate an edge that is common to so much of Comer’s work. It is another entry on a CV that is trying to make a difference. Does she think that art can actually change anything? “Absolutely,” Comer says. “When I read the scripts they provoked an emotion in me that felt important. I felt engaged and that’s the biggest thing now, isn’t it? To keep people engaged in what you’re saying, and so that you can change things. I witnessed conversations around sexual assault when working on Prima Facie and saw subtle shifts within the law.

“Women and men were telling me what that play had enabled them to do, whether it was to seek counselling or have a conversation with their family. That may seem like a very small change but it is mighty in somebody’s life. You can see what a profound effect watching a piece of art has on somebody. That means a lot to me.”

This desperation to make stuff that really matters is why Comer stands out. She also excels in the 1960s-set The Bikeriders, about gangs and masculinity, out in the summer, alongside Tom Hardy. If you were to put her in a bracket of skill and achievement right now, you could say that she is where Jodie Foster was as she entered her thirties. They share the sass, steeliness and spark that Foster displayed in the controversial courtroom drama The Accused — which deals with the subject of rape — a sort of prototype Prima Facie.

#Jodie Comer #interview #The Times #I know there is an ethical grey area here with reposting behind a pay wall but it's not like it's someone substack or patreon #it's the times

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bluejay-writes · 1 year ago

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Mystictober 2023: Day 7 - Voice like an Angel

You can read/collect this fic on Ao3 if that’s more your speed!

Rating: Teen (Swears, Sex References)

Prompt: Festival / Music

Characters: Zen, Jaehee, GN!OC = Garrett.

Wordcount: 2268

Summary: Garrett hasn't seen Jaehee since they quit school to pursue music. One fateful day at a festival, Jaehee hooks Garrett up with Zen. For music reasons and only music reasons.

Author's Notes: This fic was written for Mystictober 2023, Day 7. I really love how this turned out, and even I'm curious about what's going to happen with Garrett and Zen down the line. Certainly whatever it is, Jaehee will have all the gossip.

Also, I know that the fact that there's no relationships in this means that the vast majority of people won't read it. And I'm actually okay with that. But sometimes a story calls for an aro they/them OC, and not following the muse on that one is like tearing my own heart out.

Garrett was nervous. They weren’t usually nervous, not for concerts, not anymore. But it had been a long time since their little band had performed on a big festival stage. And by a long time, they meant like a decade. They’d been 16 and fearless the last time, and while it had gone fine, they hadn’t been invited back the next year, so who knew how “fine” it had actually been.

This year’s festival was sponsored by C&R International, and while their sponsorship was a surprise, it seemed that one of the C&R Directors was actually running the festival this time. Things seemed to be going well. Ticket sales were up, food stalls weren’t murdering the merch sales with impossibly high water prices because C&R was just handing out water bottles for free.

What that actually meant for Garrett was that they actually knew the person in charge of the stage they were playing on, and that - that - was what had them nervous. C&R’s Stage Liaison for the Cyclone stage was none other than Jaehee Kang herself. Garrett knew Jaehee from Cram School. Okay, from the cram school they’d dropped out of to pursue being a musician full time. And yes, that had worked out. Backing vocals and bass guitar in a band that opened for multiple sold out tours internationally was no joke. And sure, they could be lead vocals. Or in a band that headlined those tours. But they refused to downplay their own achievement by wishing for more.

Jaehee had, however, known them by their dead name. And certainly their visual presentation was no longer the demure girl with long black braids and braces, but an undercut mohawk and androgynous presentation wouldn’t stop the notoriously observant Jaehee from figuring out who they were immediately. None of the band had called them by their dead name in at least five years. But the minute the media caught wind of it, they were likely to be haunted by it again approximately forever but at least a few months.

“Oh my god, Garrett, just calm down.” J.T. said, laughing at them. “Your crush will remember you, I promise.”

Of course J.T. would tease them for that. When they’d tried to explain why they were nervous the other day, the entire band remembered how much time they used to spend studying at the library with Jaehee, and how worried they were about what the girl would think when they quit cram school. In the end, Jaehee hadn’t said anything, just nodded at them and went back to studying. If Garrett had been crushing on Jaehee, those hopes were, well, crushed.

“It’s not like that, J.T. God.” Garrett said, rolling their eyes as they set their bass case down, leaning it against the stage.

“Garrett!” A feminine voice called out to them, and they turned to look. Wait a minute.

“Jaehee?” They asked, uncertain if this glasses-wearing pixie-cut business suit was the girl they used to know, or if it was wishful thinking.

“Obviously.” She pushed her glasses up as she came to a stop just outside the circle of band members. “I thought that was you!”

“Oh. H-hey.” They said, stuttering awkwardly. They weren’t the most social person to start with, but seeing someone they hadn’t seen in a decade was… an entirely different situation.

“I am rather excited to see your show. I arranged for you to be on my stage - there was a bit of a battle between stage liaisons over your band, but honestly, all I had to do was state a preference and they weren’t even competiton.”

“What do you mean?” Garrett said, confused. “I mean, I did wonder how we managed to score the second largest stage in the entire festival, but…”

“Oh, well, being the executive assistant to the director in charge of the festival has its perks.” Jaehee said, and Garrett was sure if she had longer hair, she’d have flipped it over her shoulder.

“Sweet, Thanks for pulling for us, Miss Jaehee!” Arabella, their lead vocalist, practically yelled. “We’ve been hoping to play this festival again, and it finally didn’t conflict with a tour, and then here you are getting us prime real estate like a goddess. Garrett, dude, you totally owe her a date.”

Jaehee glanced at Garrett with a blush on her cheeks, and they spoke in almost perfect unison.

“I don’t date.”

“Absolutely out of the question.”

They shared a look, and J.T. just cackled.

“Aaanyway.” Garrett said, deciding to fix one awkward topic with another. “Jaehee, as much as I hate to say this, I really expected you to dead name me. How did you…?” They trailed off, wishing they’d figured out the end of that sentence before they started talking.

“How did I know your use name? Come on, Garrett. Do you really think the girl you studied with for all of those endless hours wouldn’t keep track of you after you ditched me? I’ve got all of your records. And no, I don’t just mean albums. I even have your first pressing.”

“Wait, you what?” J.T. was staring at her deadpan, and Garrett could feel themself blushing.

“Yes, of course the one with glitter in it.” Jaehee said, pushing her glasses up in a way that made them flash in the light. “I’m a professional fan, you know. When I’m a fan, I’m committed. There’s only one other artist I feel this strongly about, you know.”

“Oh?” Garrett said, trying desperately to deflect the conversation before Ara asked if Jaehee had the one with Garrett’s naked silhouette on the cover. “And who would that be?”

Jaehee’s face flushed instantly. “Zen.” She said, in a way that made Garrett instantly envious of the man.

“Isn’t he that musical actor who’s been recording musical covers on MeTube in his spare time?” J.T. asked, confused.

“The very same.” Jaehee said. “He’s truly one of the masters of our age.”

Garrett didn’t know who that was, but they knew they were going to look into him just to see what Jaehee liked that wasn’t, well, them. Then, Ara giggled, and Garrett knew they needed to change the subject quick before their frontwoman offended their staff contact.

“Sorry to derail. We’ve got all of our gear here, and we’re playing…”

The set had been long, and it was summer. Garrett felt like they were dripping in sweat, probably because they were. It didn’t take long to pack up their bass, and then they were leaning against the back of the stage again, almost as though they existed in two places. On the stage and off of it, ne’er the twain shall meet. Like a video game NPC.

They were relishing in the shade that the stage itself cast when Jaehee’s voice echoed from around the corner.

“I don’t know, they’re probably exhausted, Z—Hyun.”

“But you promised! And she’s perfect, Jaehee.”

“They.” Jaehee said, a sharp correction. “And I don’t know, it’s an abuse of power to…”

“Just ask them.” he said, pleading. “I will take no for an answer. You know I will. I’m not Echo Girl.”

“Fine. But if they stop talking to me over this I will take it as a personal slight, Hyun.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Garrett pretended to be looking at their phone when Jaehee rounded the corner. If they’d thought that Jaehee was talking about anyone else, the pronoun correction disabused them of that notion really quickly.

“Garrett?”

They looked up. Jaehee looked nervous, and surprised to see them back here already. “I… uh… I have a friend that really wants to meet you. He’s…”

Garrett simply raised an eyebrow and the woman caved immediately.

“He’s a good friend of mine, I promise. He wants to ask you something, and I don’t know how to say no to the man, would you be willing to…��

“Of course, Jaehee.” Garrett said, chuckling. “I don’t mind talking to a fan, especially one you’ve vouched for. J.T. and Arabella will still be a minute, bring him back here.”

Jaehee relaxed like a marionette whose strings had been cut, and turned to leave. “He’s just over here, I’ll be right back.”

Garrett tried not to listen in when Jaehee told the man he could come talk to them, but they were just so good at eavesdropping on conversations at this point, they didn’t know how to not.

“They invited you back, Hyun.”

“They WHAT?!”

“Don’t embarrass me.”

“Me, Zen, embarrass you?”

“I thought we weren’t using your stage name at this festival?”

“Shit. Right. I. Uh. Forget you heard that.”

“Anyway.” Garrett could practically hear Jaehee roll her eyes. “Come on, let’s not keep them waiting. You should have a few minutes to chat with them alone before their band mates finish packing up.”

“A-alone?” The man stuttered, and Garrett smirked, an expression that was still on their face when Jaehee rounded the corner with an incredibly attractive man with piercing red eyes.

“Garrett, this is Hyun. Hyun, this is the bassist you’re so enamored with. You two chat, I have to go make sure the crowd clears a bit so we can pack you out and the next act in.” Having said her piece, Jaehee turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the two of them facing one another.

Garrett, for their part, smirked. “Enamored with?”

Hyun just blushed and shrugged. “She calls it like she sees it.”

“Well, sweet cheeks, don’t get your hopes up, I don’t date.” Garrett said, and he waved his hands as if to wipe away the suggestion.

“No, no. It’s not. I mean you’re hot as hell, and not just in an “it’s summer and you’re outdoors” kind of way. But it’s your voice I’m in love with. Seriously. Why are you just backing vocals? You could be a real star with that tone, babe.”

“Are you trying to poach me? I’m not leaving the band.”

“W-well, no, I just… I was wondering if you’d be interesting in recording a few tracks with me while you’re in town? I need someone to duet with, and I’ve never met anyone with a voice so rich.”

“Duets? You in a band? Wannabe idol, or…?”

“Oh. OH. Uh. I’m Zen.” He said, and winked at them.

Garrett burst out laughing.

“Wait. Jaehee is a major fangirl for some guy she knows? I thought I was a bad enough case, oh my god.”

“You actually know Jaehee too? Not just because of the bullshit stage work that Trust Fund asshole has her doing?”

“Well, yeah, we went to cram school together like a decade ago. How do you know her?”

“We’re in a fundraising charity together. Have you heard of the RFA?”

“Oh, yeah, she wanted us to play for one of their Christmas parties a couple years back but we were in Canada at the time.”

“Haaah. That was you. She was so disappointed.”

“So, anyway. You want me to lay some tracks with you?”

“If you would. I’ve got some duets I want to cover, and I hope this isn’t offensive somehow, but I really think your voice would be stellar for the female lead lines.”

“Oh.” Garrett said, a bit taken back at just how considerate he was being. “No, that’s not offensive in the least. That could be fun, but I’d have to check with my manager about contract stipulations - our contract’s pretty tight at least until we release this album, so…”

“Oh, alright. How about I give you my number, and you can call me?” He looked uncomfortable, and now knowing who he was, Garrett didn’t blame him.

“Yeah, let’s exchange contacts. I’d at least love to get coffee with you and Jaehee sometime.”

Zen held out his phone - They typed in their number, and he turned his phone back to himself and typed out a message. They felt their phone buzz in their back pocket, and smiled.

“Got it.”

“Got what?” J.T. said, throwing a spare hand towel at their face.

“My number, hot stuff.” Zen said, with a wink at J.T., and then a wave in their direction without looking at them. “Garrett, babe. Don’t leave me waiting too long.” He’d put on this air of being incredibly too good for them, and strutted off like the hottest possible model.

Which, to be fair, he was objectively attractive. And subjectively hot as hell, Garrett thought.

“What was that about?” J.T. asked, eyeing them.

“Looks like Garrett got themselves a free ticket to a one night stand with a sexy groupie.” Ara said, smirking.

“Yeah, I’d hit that.”

“Poor guy’s going to be heartbroken when he realizes you’re aro, you know that right Garrett?” J.T. said, with a serious look.

“I promise, he’s not. It’s not…” Garrett sighed. They’d tried to play it up, really they had. “That was Zen. Jaehee knows him from that charity org. He wants to sing with me for his metube. I’m going to check with Mr. Kim about the contact and see what I can do - it certainly couldn’t hurt us to get our name out there a different way, you know?”

“Oh. Well now I feel like shit for insinuating that.” Ara said, sheepishly.

“No, he wanted you to think that, I guarantee it. Man’s a really good actor.” They pulled their phone out of their back pocket and laughed at the message before sharing it with the band.

Hey, it’s Zen. Or Hyun, if you’d rather. Hit me up, babe, you know I’m good for it.

#mystic messenger #MM_Mystictober2023 #Mystictober 2023 #Prompt-based fanfic #oneshot #aromantic #gender-neutral OC #mysme zen #mysme jaehee

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whimsicalmeerkat · 11 months ago

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Top & Favorite Fics by Month - 2023

This is something I did last year and enjoyed putting together. Basically, it's my top fic by kudos in the month it's posted and my favorite. I've left out wips to make it more interesting. For me, anyway. I'm not tagging anyone, but I'd love to see this if other people do it. All the fics & summaries are after the cut. Happy New Year!

🔥 Top

💜 Favorite

January

🔥 graveyard: Teen Wolf, Sterek, 300 words, teen

“I wonder if it has anything to do with that graveyard by the lake,” Stiles muses. “You know, the one with the pentacles and shit.”

💜 midnight: Teen Wolf, Sterek, 100 words, teen

“He said it was due at midnight on the first but is that in five minutes or 24 hours and five minutes?”

February

🔥 💜 again: Teen Wolf, Sterek, 100 words, teen

“Witches took Derek!” Isaac’s panic is clear.

March

🔥 glitter: Teen Wolf, Sterek, 2,760 words, explicit

Stiles stared up at his ceiling, impressed and slightly horrified. “How did I get glitter there?” Someone sneezed explosively behind him, startling him so badly he fell out of his chair. “What the fuck?” He looked over, completely unsurprised to see that it was Derek standing near his window. “Oh no.” ~ In which Stiles accidentally showers Derek in glitter, but it all works out better than expected

💜 enough: The Hollows, Trent Kalamack/Rachel Morgan, 823 words, teen

And just like that, he found himself standing naked in his shower thinking about Rachel Morgan. Again. It would be demoralizing if he was the sort of man to let such things get to him. Or: The author reread Every Which Way But Dead and had the idea to write a fic about Trent jerking off in the shower,

April

🔥 💜 my heart was connected: Teen Wolf, Steterek, 11,329 words, explicit

“Derek, dude, relax. We’ve got this. We’re gonna Hallmark movie the shit out of this Christmas.” ~ Derek brings Stiles home to pretend to be his boyfriend and act as a buffer between him and Peter. That’s not exactly how it works out.

May

🔥 pie, chase, dysfunctional: Teen Wolf, Sterek, 100 words, gen

Stiles stood on the porch of the Hale house and watched the betas chase each other. “What did you do?”

💜 so we remain the same: The Hollows, Trent Kalamack/Rachel Morgan, 2,001 words, explicit

“You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met.” Trent tries to hold onto some semblance of his normal composure, he really does, but it’s hard to sound calm when Rachel insists on biting his lip and all he can think of is how good it feels and what a terrible idea this is. “Yeah, well, you have no morals.” ~ It’s just another night where Rachel is Trent’s security escort and has to save his life right up until it takes an unusual turn.

June

🔥 💜 be gay do crimes: Psy-Changeling, Aden Kai/Vasic Zen, 100 words, gen

“What does it mean?” Aden and Vasic stood in front of a wall spray painted with a rainbow flag and the words ‘be gay do crimes’.

July

🔥 electric, fire, plastic: Teen Wolf, Sterek, 100 words, teen

“I wonder if were-eels are a thing? Imagine being able to shift into an electric eel. What would the beta shift be like, though?”

💜 late, festive, wide: Teen Wolf, Sterek, 100 words, gen

“You’ve been planning this for a month?”

August

🔥 Fucking Witches, Man: Teen Wolf, Sterek, 1,228 words, explicit

Stiles’ phone rings at three in the morning on a Saturday night. It’s the full moon, so he really shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Derek. “Oh god, what now?” is the way he chooses to answer it. ~ A witch blows a mysterious powder all over Derek. I think we all know where this story’s going.

💜 until the Darkness takes us: Black Jewles, Daemon Sadi/Lucivar Yaslana, 3,837 words, explicit

Lucivar stands at the top of the tower outside SaDiablo Hall in Kaleer and looks at the stars. It’s been more than two centuries since he first got to this realm, but it still surprises him sometimes that the stars are the same. ~ Lucivar and Daemon’s relationship shifts and develops over time.

September

🔥 I'll Always Know It's You: The Hollows, Trent Kalamack/Rachel Morgan, 1,488 words, teen

Rachel really was talented with disguises. She appeared to be a brunette with a tan she would only ever achieve with an amulet. From a distance it looked like her eyes were dark and the shape of her face was completely changed. Trent still knew it was her. ~ Rachel shows up to a charity event looking like someone else. Trent wants to know why.

💜 sweater weather: Radiance Series, Evain Marha/Leth ka Tariel, 100 words, gen

“What are you doing?” Leth’s voice makes Evain jump and drop three stitches.

October

🔥 jump, brain, gaudy: Teen Wolf, Sterek, 100 words, gen

“There is a single tasteful rhinestone belt. That isn’t gaudy!”

💜 We Were Helping!: Perilous Courts, Daromir Azri/Vana Dire, Vana Dire & Bellamy Sandry, 1,857 words, teen

“When I said you know better than to play drinking games with a dragonrider, I didn’t mean you should switch to doing shots with a foreign prince who holds a grudge against you instead.” ~ Bellamy is still mad about Rakos’ kidnapping. Vana insists they were helping. Eventually, they come to an understanding.

November

🔥 I think I know a secret: Teen Wolf, Sterek, 3,319 words, explicit

“Oh man, bobbing for apples. I bet you killed at that game, what with the fangs and all,” Stiles exclaims, pulling Derek from his thoughts. “You could clean up at that.” ~ Stiles learns something unexpected about Derek during the fall festival.

💜 in the middle of the night, Teen Wolf, Sterek, 1,680 words, explicit

Stiles leans back against his pillows and hits play on his laptop. He made sure it’s sitting a careful distance away, on the other side of him than the lube. Cleaning lube out of a laptop keyboard is an absolute bitch—ask him how he knows. ~ Stiles is jerking off. Derek shows up. This works out very well for both of them.

December

🔥 Merry Christmas, indeed: Teen Wolf, Steterek, 2,229 words, explicit

Stiles has his hand wrapped around his cock when someone clears their throat. He assumes it’s Derek—he’s stretched out in his bed in the loft, after all. When he opens his eyes, though, it’s to see Peter leaning against the wall, smirking at him. ~ Stiles sneaks into Derek’s loft to surprise him on Christmas. The results exceed his wildest dreams.

💜 then, now, and forever: Radiance Series, Evain Marha/Leth ka Tariel, 3,083 words, explicit

It’s a dark and stormy night and Evain Marha sits contemplating his lover. ~ Nothing to see here but smut.

#year in review #fanfic #teen wolf #radiance series #perilous courts #black jewels #the hollows #psy-changeling #author:whimsicalmeerkat

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justanotherwhineforattention · 2 years ago

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Being Zen Doesn't Make You Not a Bitch

I dropped out my senior year after becoming homeless due to my parent's stubbornness and ignorance. I had also been working full-time my entire high school career and for a brief time two jobs on top of having a pretty good attendance record until I hit junior year. I was also at the ripe age of 14 basically fully raising my sister who at this time was 11. I had been picking up a lot of my parent's slack since I was around 8, and don't get me wrong I regret nothing in fact she is my biggest success, I am not complaining just wish I got a little more credit for what I did accomplish, instead of straight denial from everyone but Tally. I obviously wish I had finished that stupid school year but at the same time, I have experienced so much and learned a ton of lessons in the last three years that I would not trade. Well, you know how everyone has that one family member your parents always used as a lie lesson? Well hi, I am her, I don't know if it was the tattoos, piercings, dyed hair, dropping out, smoking weed, drinking, or maybe that I am now a very proud exotic dancer, but whatever I did to earn that title it really fucking stuck. I am totally cool with that though, alright, enough of the back story, let's get into my day. I attended my baby sister's high school graduation today, and oh my god I am so goddamn proud of her, I am not going to lie I may have choked back some tears. Like I said that is my child. Anyway, we all cheered and screamed like we were not in a sea of people just there to make memories throughout the ceremony. I should also point out that my sister has been staying with my shitty grandmother and the rest of the judgemental clan whose simple existence makes me cringe with hatred. This was the best place for her on account of the private education she was getting from a school in the area. I have not talked to these people for a very long time because I handle idiocracy and hypocrisy in a horrible manner and do not want unnecessary negativity affecting the life I am pursuing and have already gained since going no contact. However, they made their appearance today on her big day and my oh so calm and collected cousin did not leave her pettiness at home. Let me give you the rundown on Skylin. Skylin had always been a golden child, graduated from a private school with a waiting list, got great grades, could only dream of going to the slum public schools I did, is four days older than me, got a job, and immediately started saving, went to college, but still dreams of being an original rebel of some sorts but screams bisexual hipster bitch you would meet in any "low-key" coffee shop. She makes her way over to me and my parents and paternal grandparents who are trying to get some good pictures of her big accomplishment and decides now is the great time to get her shot in. She gets all close behind me, "Wow Tally, how does it feel to be the first graduate in your family" her pretentious voice cracking down on my eardrums. I could feel my arm lift ready to 180 smack the absolute fuck out of this dumbass with a superiority complex. But alas I was not going to ruin this for my baby and so I walked away in complete silence outside. I was trying to calm myself before the feral unstable crazy came spewing out, and I did not want to catch an assault charge on someone who wasn't worth a second thought. But all I could think was wow for someone who feels like they are just so cool, and supportive of everyone she really needs to realize she is actually just an overambitious cunt.

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foundhealth · 2 years ago

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The Zen of Depression: How Meditation Fights The Blues

Progressive forces within the mental health services encourage meditation. My personal experience convinces me that meditative practice can help a person learn to cope with dark moods and sorrow. It can teach one to appreciate the full spectrum of human emotion rather than always striving to feel ‘good.’

My meditative work began in 1987 soon after I first attended Alcoholics Anonymous and faced the program’s advocacy of spiritual growth. I realize now my good fortune in finding AA at age twenty-eight, since the twelve-step movement was perhaps the earliest major mental health program to advocate meditation as a tool for psychic wellness.

But AA’s theological language troubled me, because my scientist father had raised me as an atheist. I did not feel comfortable with overt references to God as a divine and omnipotent personality. In working through these conflicts, I tried a number of churches and spiritual traditions.

I soon discovered a Quaker meetinghouse near my apartment. Because my maternal ancestors had all worshiped within the Religious Society of Friends, and because I’d been raised to respect the values of that group, finding the Fifteenth Street Meeting a few blocks from where I lived in New York felt like a godsend. Sitting in silent worship without scripture or sermons worked perfectly for me. I became a committed meditator in the Quaker mode. The Friends’ emphasis on right behavior and the contemplative experience of spiritual presence helped me find direction and meaning in life. My more hopeful outlook helped ease my burdens, but my depression still frightened me, and I fought hard against it.

Much more recently I started to hear that meditation helps people cope with mood issues, and I expanded the goals of my practice. Rather than meditating solely for spiritual realization, I started practicing to improve my ability to tolerate and benefit from uncomfortable emotional states. I soon learned that addressing my relationship to moods actually helped my progress toward mystical transcendence. I began to understand, in a deep way, how my suffering with depression was a manifestation of a deeper spiritual confusion.

Interestingly, this wasn’t the first time I’d used meditation for a practical purpose. In 2000 I had taken classes in Jon Kabat-Zinn’s mindfulness techniques in order to deal with chronic physical pain. Through direct experience, I’d learned that inwardly observing somatic distress makes it more bearable. Rather than running from pain, I began to consciously explore it and found great comfort and relief in doing so. Physical discomfort ceased being a frightening enemy, and became a teacher.

However, sitting with depression proved more challenging than relaxing into pain. So much ancient sorrow lay buried in my soul that at first gales of grief threatened to blow me off my intended course. My tolerance for mood extremes started out low, so I could only endure a little sadness before needing to distract myself with pleasant visualizations or other calming techniques. But gradually I acquired the confidence to delve deeper into my depression.

Visit here for more about The Zen of Depression: How Meditation Fights The Blues

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thefactualsphere · 2 years ago

Note

Another small trill from the touch.. It was beginning to realize that THIS machine was a better option. Warm and soft, and full of power to live on. That battery wasn't gonna last it much longer anyway. It would get up, closer to the source, but it has been such a long time since it's been warm like this.

"Kinsa looks like uh... a headcrab..? Way.. stranger looking... I ain't never seen a baby one or... one that's... blue.."

Neil bristles.

"What the FUCK is a headcrab...-?!"

"....Jeez, You fish this one out from a bomb shelter or something? Do you even know what a "Xen" is? Or a combine?"

"Duh..?! Zen is a state of calm attentiveness brought on by meditation, and a combine is a big metal horse that the greeks used to steal the Trojans' grain-!"

"Oh my God..."

Rick didn't sleep well. His head felt all too full, stuffed with bees, maybe, as he slept. Mixed images of his day, and many days before that were recalled and consolidated.

He didn't remember the man's face, but he could remember his voice, begging him to care for his daughter. Rick remembered that he had been told not more than a few days later that he had slipped. That was all it had taken.

He'd saved a life, but around every corner he had ended what seemed like dozens more. Rick remembered them, their voices. A man who had begged tearfully, those who didn't understand until he had led them into the depths of those labs.

The voices consumed him, echoing in every corner of his mind. They begged him to let them go, to release them, some stayed silent, whimpering or crying as he led them. Just as he felt himself about to snap-

He woke. Almost thirteen hours later. His body ran hot enough to heat the metal surface of Neil's form, his chest rising and falling in shallow motions. To anyone else, he might have felt feverish. Rick could barely think past the heat already, both physically and mentally.

@adventuregunsphere

Fact hadn't slept all too great either that night. It was incredible to be here, up on the surface and breathing in that fresh air; that was part of the problem.

His jitters had really gotten the best of him. Everything was too new, too fresh. And those nerves of his were a lot more eased when he was down in those labs. Down in that bunker. It wasn't safer, no no, completely opposite. But it was familiar. Neil had known exactly what to suspect at every moment and there had not been one noise he didnt know the causation of; now? Now he was hearing crickets, and something bumping in the night. He hears the "Cooo, cooo" of some strange animal in the distance.

He blinked in and out of sleep all night. And that was perfect to catch his lover's body beginning to burn up. It was horribly uncomfortable, and even as he adored sleeping with his partner he had to get up. It had started to hurt afterall.

He awoke much faster than his partner had; and that means he's been able to feel all those eyes on him. Every single person staring upon his metal body, against the creases where his casing met- Scanning over every little detail of his body. He hates every fucking second of the whole lot of it... So when Rick wakes, hes quick back to his side.

"Thank GOD you're up..."

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bard-dadsquared · 5 years ago

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Nothing like a death in your close family to make you go

YOLO

This is the year I speak more openly about how I feel about things I guess.

Doing so while tired and Cranky as fuck?

Prrrrooooobably not a good idea.

#blue.txt #sorry to everyone suffering to or from the affects of my rampage #im tired im cranky #and it seems my aunt dying as awoke my asshole side #because life is short #i just wanna enjoy it yall #im full of existential dread and i wanna enjoy stuff #i wanna be happy #and god dammit thats what im gonna do.#idek how to explain it but #my emotional reaction to even small things is #*EXPLOSIONS* and for that i do apologize #ill calm down and find my zen again soon i hope.

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mamamilki · 3 years ago

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Chi Sangwoo x reader (HC)

Warnings: sliiiiight nsfw, sangwoo slander on my part, sue me, he’s hella hot ‘sir kink??’ (still hate him)

During the squid games, he’d acknowledge you but wasn’t interested in talking. He just wanted the money and get out.

Oh god after the first game he was terrified, a bit shaky as well. But you? (YOU DEAD) you were as calm as a zen garden. You were freaking out but on the inside. Sangwoo was shocked you made it don’t get me wrong. This guy is a bit of a doubter.

When he finally talks to you, you both were already a match made in heaven. Conversations go by smooth and no awkward moments. Sangwoo absolutely adored that about you.

He’d double check if the game you both are playing would be an absolute win, he’d fell for you. Hard.

Gives you his food if you weren’t full, always ALWAYS makes sure you’re ok and ready to go before the next game.

You’re on your period? A makeshift pad, thanks to the attractive in dept business man :)

He’ll stay with you during the fight at night and pulls you close so you won’t get hurt

He goes full Docter and examines you if you get hurt

“Where does it hurt?” “Are you sure you’re fine?” “Lift up your shirt, let me see the damage…come on, I don’t bite”

He’d be an unintentional flirt, it’s crazy how he wouldn’t notice you getting flustered from his words

If you can’t sleep, you can pester sangwoo about it. “Oh..you can’t sleep?” He’d sigh “come here.” With his groggy voice

Big spoon 10000%

All I’m saying is, if y’all do get together and do the devils tango he’d be the man everyone wants

“If you keep looking at me like that I’ll have no choice but to fuck you harder understand? Say it. ‘Yes sir”

Loves you with all his heart

He’d win the money and spend it all on you, and a home.

“I love you so much.”

#squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid games #sangwoo #sangwoo x y/n #sangwoo x reader #squid game

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varietydisco · 3 years ago

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Pairing: Michael de Santa/Trevor Phillips

Additional Characters: Franklin Clinton & Lamar Davis

Rating: T

Tags: Referenced weed usage, kissing while kind of touch starved

Word Count: 3400

Description:

While spending Christmas Eve at Franklin's, Michael and Trevor exchange gifts and feelings.

A/N: merry christ & happy holidays, this one's for my bestie @doomguyy ❤️

Preview:

They said they weren't doing gifts this year. The only thing they would do for Christmas eve was gather for dinner and then drinks at Franklin's place. Something calm and mellow.

Michael had full intentions of not getting gifts, because he was kind of sick of the whole Christmas thing in general. Years of spoiled children and a sometimes ungrateful wife had left a bad taste in Michael's mouth. So far this year had been better than the last ones, but bitter feelings still remain. That being said, however, Michael had caved.

As Michael pulled into Franklin's driveway, the headache brewing behind his eyes reached a peak. He cut the engine, and immediately opened the glove compartment to find the bottle of Advil he kept stored there.

A blue velvet ring box stared back at him. Michael looked at it a moment, before grabbing and pocketing it. He then continued to dig through the clutter of paper and napkins.

Yes, he caved. Against his better judgement, Michael had gotten Trevor a gift. He saw it in the jewellery store and it spoke to him. He still couldn't believe what a pushover he was.

Who was to say that Trevor would even want it? He didn't exactly seem like a ring guy.

Finally Michael found the Advil bottle. When he twisted off the cap, he found that there were exactly two left. He snorted.

"Christmas freaking miracle," He muttered to himself. He threw the pills in his mouth and chased them with a shot of lukewarm bottled water.

Michael closed his eyes and settled back. He just needed a second for the painkillers to hit before he dealt with the rest of today. Not that hanging with Franklin was bad, just that Trevor could be a lot sometimes. God.

Michael tried to clear his mind of everything, to zen out before he went inside and kick-started the Christmas celebrations. However, a sudden commotion outside his car kept him from achieving tranquility.

He heard yelling through the windows. And then, faintly, he noted a scorched smell.

Michael wrinkled his nose. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

Franklin's front door burst open. A thick wall of smoke billowed out. Franklin staggered out from the smoke; he had his shirt pulled up over his nose, and his other arm stretched out ahead to feel his way. He stumbled off the doorstep and into the driveway. Trevor also emerged from the smoke, shortly behind Franklin. He wore an obscene Christmas sweater that looked like it had been set ablaze; part of the design on the front was melted and torn, and the entire left sleeve was missing.

Against his better judgement, Michael threw open the car door and stepped out. He stared, agape, at the smoke pouring from Franklin's house.

"What the hell happened?!" Michael cried. "What did you do?"

"Homeboy started a fuckin' grease fire!" Franklin yelled back, over the blaring smoke alarm behind him.

"Jesus, T!"

Trevor curled his lips into a snarl. He threw his hands dramatically between Franklin and Michael, and the smoking house.

"What? What?! You never deep-fried a turkey before?"

#my fic #GTA V #gta fanfiction #trikey #michael de santa #trevor philips #franklin and lamar have some choice dialogue too #peace and love when djd tumblr remove the readmore #sorry if yall fknd any errors im fucking sick dude

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shadowywerewolfqueen · 4 years ago

Text

The Meadow

Dean watched the flames flicker as they licked at and consumed Castiel’s body. He watched them reach for the sky before slinking back down. If it were for any other reason, Dean would say the kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and yellows were beautiful and graceful as they moved. As he stared at the burning pyre in front of him, he thought it the ugliest sight he had ever laid eyes on.

Sam glanced at his brother and softly said, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you.”

Dean grunted. “He was your friend too.”

“He was my friend, Dean, but for you, he was so much more than that,” Sam replied. “I know whatever it was… was left unspoken between you two, but it was obvious.”

“Yeah, well, doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Dean asked, his voice full of bitterness and pain. “He’s gone, Sam, and I don’t think Chuck is worried about bringing him back.”

“We’ll get him back, Dean. We’ll figure out a way like we always do,” Sam said, trying to reassure his brother, wishing to give Dean some small bit of hope.

Dean finally turned away from the pyre to look at his brother. His eyes were red and tear-filled, and for once, Dean didn’t bother to wipe the wetness away. “Don’t try and give me hope, Sam, because there is no hope to give. Mom is stuck in the Apocalypse world, we have to track down the son of Lucifer, and Crowley and C-Cas are dead. That’s it; there’s no bringing them back.”

Sam sighed but didn’t say anything, knowing Dean was unreasonable at the moment. Deciding to give his brother some space, he said, “I’m gonna head back up to the cabin. See if I can’t figure out where the kid went.” He turned around and walked away, not even asking if Dean wanted to tag along, already knowing what the answer would be.

Hours later, when the tears had dried up and had left behind jagged tracks on his cheeks, Dean finally stirred as the early morning rays of sunlight crested the horizon. The flames had long since died, leaving behind nothing but a pile of dark ash. Dean went to the cabin and returned a few moments later, an empty jar in his hand. He was silent as he carefully scooped the ashes, all that was left of his angel, into the mason jar before sealing it tightly shut.

He headed to the Impala and slipped into her front seat, setting the jar between his legs, wanting to ensure that it didn’t break during the drive. He turned the engine on, but for the first time in his life, the sound of classic rock drifting from the radio did nothing to soothe his frayed nerves. Dean shifted gears and pulled out of the trees, away from the cabin and onto the road. He drove aimlessly, looking for something that he couldn’t and didn’t want to put a name to.

The sun was high above the treetops when something caught Dean’s attention out of the corner of his eye. He glanced out the window and saw an old windmill, its blades turning leisurely in the gentle breeze. Dean pulled the Impala off the road and into the small, tranquil meadow. He put the car in park and swung the door open, standing to his feet with the jar nestled safely in his hands.

Dean looked around, surprised to see a garden at the base of the windmill. The corner of his lips quirked up when he saw a few bees buzzing around, flitting from flower to flower. He looked to his left, trying to pinpoint the source of the soft babble of water he heard, and saw a small brook winding between the tall grasses. Dean took a deep breath and tilted his head back, letting the warmth of the sun seep into his bones. As he stood there, Dean felt calm and peaceful, and he knew he had found the place to spread Castiel’s ashes.

As that thought crossed his mind, the jar in Dean’s hands suddenly felt massive, and he was struggling to hold it. He dropped his gaze to the glass in his hands and felt a tear slip down his cheek. The black ashes were all he had left of his best friend, his angel, the man he was desperately in love with.

It wasn’t the first time he had lost Cas, but Dean felt that this would be the last. There was no weapon or spell that was going to save Cas. There was no God or secret ally who would pull Cas back from wherever it was angels went when they died. No, Cas was gone, and this time, Dean didn’t even have his coat to haul around in the back of the Impala.

A sob wracked his body as Dean slowly unscrewed the lid on the jar. He dipped his fingers into the featherlight ashes and felt his throat constrict; it was the last time he would ever touch his angel again. Dean took a shaky breath, turning the jar over and starting to sprinkle the ashes on the ground. His vision was blurry as tears filled his eyes, and he stumbled a few times, thinking his legs were going to give out underneath him. He dropped the last of the ashes by the garden, knowing Cas would want to be close to his beloved flowers and bees.

When the jar was empty, Dean stood there, too emotionally drained to take another step. He forced air into his lungs before slowly pushing it back out. He ached, ached deep in his soul, and he knew it would never go away. Dean had lost a part of himself, and Cas’ absence left a hole in his heart that would never be filled.

As Dean stood there, staring up at the windmill, watching the blades make lazy circles, he felt an overwhelming desire to leave behind some notice that this was Castiel’s final resting place. He dropped the jar and fumbled for the knife in his pocket. Dean pulled it out and moved closer to the windmill, carefully etching something into the tough wood. He stepped back after a few minutes and admired his work.

Here lies Castiel, Angel of the Lord

A warrior, a friend, a brother

Beloved by Dean

“I hope you like it, Cas. It’s kind of the perfect place for you. It’s all zen-like and full of trees and flowers and all that other nature junk you love so much. And there are even bees for you,” Dean whispered. His shoulders shook as another sob traipsed through his body. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. And I’m sorry for all the shit I said to you… and for everything I never told you. You deserved so much more than me; hell, you deserved the world.” Dean fell silent for a moment before saying one last thing. “I love you.”

Unable to stay any longer, Dean tucked the knife back in his pocket, grabbed the jar, and walked back to the Impala. Before he pulled back onto the road, Dean glanced one last time at the garden beneath the windmill. “Goodbye, Cas.” He drove away, never returning to the meadow, but thankfully a few weeks later, Castiel makes his way back to Dean.

@destielficbasket @cocklesdestielfiction

#My writing #Destiel #This turned out way longer than intended #I made myself tear up writing this #archervale #userstarry #bluefirecas

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exosmutfactory · 3 years ago

Text

Six Phases 006 Pt 6

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: I couldn't find a picture to match Baekhyun's appearance—so I chose one that fits his mood instead 2.0 😅 ♡

[ contains: angst ] Two’s a couple, Three’s a crowd 💔

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1) P(2) | Part 6 P(1) P(2) —– P(3) P(4) —– P(5) P(6) ✓ ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1) P(2)

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

My heels click rhythmically on the sidewalk, in perfect sync with the song I’m humming. I’ve taken a liking to listening to new music lately instead of sticking to the same old artists that I’ve heard a thousand times. Trying to expand my horizons and replace sob-inducing ballads with uplifting trap beats.

It’s going okay so far: moving on. Learning how to navigate the world while riding solo. It’s not like I haven’t done it before—sleepless nights aren’t new. Lack of appetite isn’t either. A breakup will never be the end of the world, no matter how excruciating it is. So why should I let it hold me back and define me?

Birds chirp merrily in the trees, bringing a smile to my face, especially when I catch sight of a little hummingbird enjoying nectar from a patch of flowers. If there’s one thing I can say that has helped me during this time, it’s nature. Simply looking out at the world from my apartment window and taking long walks around the more remote parts of this city have calmed my soul more than I can express with words.

I’m watching the squirrels scurry around on the other side of the street while waiting for the crosswalk light to turn green when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I sigh, so much for a moment of tranquility.

I pull my phone out of my tiny jean pocket, furrowing my brows at the caller ID. Jongin…? That’s strange, has he ever called me before? I rack my brain for answers. Nope, this is the first time he is calling me. Flashbacks of our distant friendship since that one summer fight I had with a certain someone flashes through my mind... I press my phone to my ear before I can overthink it any longer. "Hello?"

"Riley." Jongin’s smooth voice filters over the line.

"Hi," I mumble, continuing down the street, noticing a beautiful blue and green butterfly flying by with a smile. The pitter patter of a water fountain in the distance has me falling back into my 'Zen’ mode. "What’s up? How are you?"

"I need a favor." He drops; straight to the point. Sending me right into a panic.

My phone nearly falls to the ground. "...You didn’t break a leg or something-"

"No, no," He immediately responds, recognizing the high pitch of hysteria in my voice. "It’s nothing bad."

Thank fuck, the last thing I need right now is bad news. It may be the end of March, but I’m not really feeling this 'Spring’ season. My mood shifts faster than the strong wind. The only stress I try to have nowadays are always work related because if I stop and think about my personal life for a moment I am fucked.

I take a deep breath, leaning my back against a light pole before replying to him. "Okay."

"There’s a dance competition in June," He slowly explains, "and I need a partner."

"Oh..." I blink a few times, straightening back up. "Huh… I’m sorry, I’m not really good at choosing candidates. I’m not a professional-"

"I mean you." He interjects, background music drifting over the line. "I want you to be my partner."

I pull the phone away from my ear for a moment, looking at it in disbelief, "I'm sorry—What?"

"I have a routine already," His voice takes on a warmer tone, pure persuasion dripping from his honeyed words. "With your name all over it."

"...Eh??" I look off to the side, trying in vain to find something—anything to distract me from the tingles zapping down my spine at the sound of his voice. God… what the fuck? "Don’t you have like a million other people who specialize in-"

"I made the choreography for you."

My heart hammers in my chest. "And why the heck would you do that?" I demand, tightening my grip on the phone. Something out of the corner of my eye suddenly captures my attention, dragging my eyes over to it instantly. The sight that greets me has my throat going dry, gulping as my hands shake.

It’s Baekhyun—and he isn’t alone.

He’s accompanied by a tall, beautiful woman, the same height as him in her flat sandals. Her black hair reaches the middle of her back, contrasting against her light blue overalls and swaying softly in the cool wind. They lean against a brick wall next to a cute coffee shop with matching coffee cups in their hands.

Jongin’s words fade into background noise while I watch them. My vision blurs when she laughs, resting her hand on his arm. The way she easily initiates physical contact with him speaks volumes; this isn’t their first meeting. It’s been 2 months since January, and yet...

My heart constricts painfully in my chest, I suck in a deep breath. Lightheadedness hits me full force, I quickly cling onto the pole when my body sways off balance. Shit… I must have been holding my breath.

"Riley?" Jongin’s muffled voice drifts from my distant phone. Thankfully it fell onto the parking meteor next to me and not on the ground. "Riley!"

Burning a hole into the back of Baekhyun’s silver-haired head, I bring the phone back to my ear. "I’ll do it," I mumble lowly.

"I’m sorry?"

Staring at Baekhyun and his new friend, I make my decision. "I’ll be your partner."

•••

Okay… Maybe I was too hasty in agreeing to this whole dance competition thing. I should have waited to make a decision when I was in a better state of mind.

It’s been a good four weeks since I agreed to be Jongin’s partner—four weeks of pure hell.

If I had known what kind of dance moves were incorporated in this routine I never ever would have agreed. The choreography appears simple and subtle enough on the surface, especially thanks to Jongin’s gifted skills, but that’s the problem. It’s not simple; it’s a fucking ankle breaker. It’s pure well-organized insanity and I don’t know how much more of it that I can take.

"From the top," Jongin’s voice echoes in the dance studio. He presses a remote to start the song over again. I try to stay focused, ignoring the looming figures of the other hostile dancers in the room. Why they all gathered here to watch us practice today, I have no idea, but it isn’t helping me at all.

The bass booming from the stereo speakers vibrates the wood under my feet. Sweat permeates the air. Their predator-like stares break me down from the inside out. The memory of Baekhyun with that woman pops into my mind...

"5, 6, 7-"

Shit!

Gasps echo around the room when it happens: I collapse onto the floor, clutching onto my throbbing ankle.

"Riley?!" Something about the alarm in Jongin’s voice makes me wince, curling in on myself as everyone’s whispers float into the air.

"Oh my god, is she serious...?"

"See what I mean! She has two left feet. Why is he wasting his time on her?"

"Dumbass can’t even do a single number, let alone a simple choreography. The way he chose that over me…"

I try my best to reel in my emotions, to keep the hurt from being seen on my face, but there’s only so much I can bear—there’s only so much I can take.

Tears pelt down my face while their loud gasps and delighted giggles fill the air. I make a move to climb to my feet, ready to bolt out of here and never step foot in this place again when a gentle hand on my shoulder stops me.

"Riley." It’s Jongin, crouching down to meet my eye. "Are you okay?"

I can only shake my head, losing my breath as their taunting voices swirl around my head like a whirlpool, consuming me whole.

"Riley, stay with me." Jongin rests both his hands on my shoulders, directing my eyes to his whenever I look away. "Talk to me. What’s wrong?"

"I-I," I choke, covering my face in my hands before I sob pathetically on the hardwood floor. The throbbing of my backside and ankle only makes it worse.

"Ri-"

"Look at her! Pathetic at it’s finest."

Jongin stiffens, I don’t even need to see him to know that he’s gone rigid. His hand slips off my shoulder as I watch his silhouette rise from the spaces between my fingers, standing to his full height.

"Mind sharing with the class what you just said, Kim Nora?" He looks at the woman in the middle of the 5 dancers leaning against the far wall, his jaw clenching.

"I-"

"If you have something to say, say it."

"I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for years. Years, Jongin!" She snaps, her shrill voice bouncing off of the walls. "I’m on time for every rehearsal. I practice until I bleed. Why does this no-name slut get to come in here and take it from me when she can’t even stand on her own two feet?!"

"Kim Nora." The way he says her name has everyone on edge. My back prickles in fear and secondhand embarrassment. He’s not even directing that stone cold tone at me and I’m hella uncomfortable sitting here.

"Who’s dance studio is this, Nora?"

"Yours-" She looks away, not brave enough to meet his eyes anymore. "-M-Mr. Kim..."

Jongin hums, holding his hands behind his back while pacing up and down the floor. "Who’s name is on the sign out front, everyone?"

"Yours, Mr. Kim." They chime in sync with meek voices. A look of regret painted on every single one of their faces.

"Mine." He concludes, satisfied before turning his dark eyes back onto Nora. "Let me explain something to you, Nora."

Her eyes stay focused on the floor.

"This is my practice, my building." He stops pacing, stretching his arms out to showcase the room. "You are under my roof." He looks dead at her, eyes colder than ice. "You are here because I let you. Do you understand that?"

"Y-yes, sir, but I-"

"Next time," He cuts her off, "You decide to be immature. Next time, you decide that your knowledge is anything close to my expertise." He steps closer, and I’ve never seen a person standing 3 feet away have such an impact on an individual. "Next time, you decide to mock one of my friends." He lowers his voice, and I can feel the heavy promise coming off him in waves. "You are gone. Do you understand me?"

Nora babbles something unintelligible, tears brimming her eyeliner caked eyes.

"Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes!" She sucks in a breath, snot clogging her nose as she directs her eyes back to the floor. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He steps away, turning on his heel before rushing back over to me. "Riley," His voice is softer now, much like the Jongin who helped rescue me from my birthday party 2 years ago.

"Hey..." I hush, lowering my hands to my lap.

"Are you okay?" He hands me a clean towel, his brows furrowed in worry. "How’s your ankle?"

"I-It’s fine."

He raises a brow, reaching out a hand to me. "May I?"

"Yeah." I sigh, noticing the familiar look of concern on his face.

Jongin takes my ankle into his hands, handling it carefully and pressing a few places. "Does it hurt?" His frown deepens when I wince. "And here?"

"Yeah," I nod, my face pinched up in pain.

"From 1 to 10," He continues, looking me dead in the eyes, "How much pain are you in?"

My lips part to answer, but I pause, biting the bullet and wiggling my ankle around to see how bad it actually is. "F-four out of ten." I grit out, still so sensitive that tears sting my eyes again.

"It’s sprained." He concludes, gently lowering it back to the floor.

"W-what does that mean?" I ask fearfully. Whatever it means, it doesn’t sound good with the contest 6 weeks away. Shit, why am I such a fuck up? What if I can’t perform let alone learn the choreography in time? I’m such a failure, I-

"It’s not bad," He reassures, resting a comforting hand on my arm. "A few days off of it and you should be good as new."

"R-really?"

Jongin nods, smiling softly. "Nothing a few days off can’t fix."

"Oh, thank you," I whisper in relief, wrapping my arms around his neck to mask the tears that escape my eyes. "Thank you, thank you."

"No," Jongin shakes his head, hugging me warmly, whispering just as quietly in my ear. "Thank you."

•••

After that day, none of the dancers have bothered me, let alone showed up to any more dance practices. Jongin made sure of that. No one fucked around with him either after the way he resolved the issue. An angry Jongin is a scary Jongin; that much I know now.

Sighing softly, I look up at the fluffy clouds overhead, trying to salvage the calm that washes over me in wake of April’s flourishing weather. The flowers are more alive than ever. Small animals and other critters run around for food on the ground. The world around me is the picture-perfect example of nature at its finest—so why is there an uneasy feeling weighing on my chest?

Work is going well and the book we had spent months and months preparing was released last week. I’m on my way to the nearest bookstore to grab a copy for myself. To check that no grammar related errors got past my keen eyes or because I genuinely enjoy the novel, who knows. I want to see the final product for myself and check out other releases. It’s about time I pick up another book besides the one I stayed up countless nights making sure everything was finalized.

A cute bell chimes when I step through the door, hit with the aroma of fresh coffee. Every time I go to a bookstore or library, it’s like I am stepping into another world. The shelves filled to the brim with hundreds, maybe thousands of literature, all at the touch of your fingertips.

From ebooks to the dusty classics, I love them all. I may not read everything; I might be one of the pickiest readers out there, but I appreciate the blood, sweat, and tears that go into every completed book. Good or bad, the author has big balls for trying and putting their name out there. I have mad respect for that.

Venturing further into the shop, my eyes catch the Fantasy section with ease. I make my way over, already seeing a colorful display set out for the newest releases. The sight of the book I’m looking for brings a smile to my face. It feels different to see it in a store instead of reading the rough drafts in the comfort of my bed. Damn the graphic designers put their foot in the cover; it captures the personalities of the main characters perfectly. I couldn’t be more proud.

My smile widens the closer I get to the display, realizing that there is only one copy left of the book. Deserved; everyone from the author to the marketing team have done their best to make this book a big seller. Thankfully the universe left one just for me.

Just as my fingertips touch the edge of the paperback cover, someone else’s hand brushes against mine.

"Oh! Sorry-"

"Ah, I’m so sor-"

My heart plummets and my head snaps up to look at them at once. Puppy brown eyes that I could identify out of countless others and a million stars stare wide-eyed right back into mine.

Fuck.

"Riley?" He breathes, his handsome face painted in disbelief.

I can only wheeze, my chest throbbing as if my heart will explode.

Fuck fuck fuck shit fuck—

Before he can say another word, before I can crumble in front of his questioning orbs, I turn on my heel and sprint out of there like a bat out of hell.

I’ve been doing better, I’m slowly healing from it all, but the moment I see his face—his sweet, tired, kicked-puppy face, I fold quicker than an umbrella in an incoming hurricane. It hurts worse than the force of an 18-wheeler. My whole world full of its fragile edges and duct tape unravels under the weight.

Normally, I wouldn’t do this.

…

Okay scratch that—I used to do this. All the damn time, but with the way our lives have changed and that one conversation we had back in March 2 years ago I… I haven’t been able to bring myself to talk to him. I’ve made it my mission to avoid Sehun.

I know what he will say the minute I tell him what’s up: I told you so—the bane of my existence. That one phrase alone is enough to keep me from confessing so many things. I rather suffer in silence than hear that sentence, but… This is different.

No matter how much it pains me and paints me in shame, I need to tell my best friend what's been going on. After everything he has done for me since our childhood... I owe him that much. So here I am now.

I chew on my bottom lip and knock firmly on his apartment door, waiting for someone to answer with bated breath.

It opens a few minutes later, revealing his unmistakable tall form as he dries his hair. Sehun does a double take. "Shorty?" He breathes in disbelief, pausing in ruffling his messy black locks.

I laugh a little, warmth sparking in my aching heart from the nickname. "Yeah," I breathe, managing a wobbly smile, already feeling tears prickle my eyes. "That's me."

We stare at each other for a long moment, nothing but the distant swish of driving cars and the muffled conversations happening beyond the open balcony on his floor fills the silence. Ah… My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I shouldn’t have come here. He’s probably busy enough as it is-

As if reading my mind, Sehun’s gaze softens. He throws the towel around his neck before opening his arms. "Come here."

I bury myself in his chest without hesitation, soaking the fabric of his black t-shirt with my tears. "I’m sorry," I croak, holding back sobs.

"Hey, hey," a low, soothing voice chimes in, resting a hand on my arm. "What happened?"

"I don’t know," Sehun mumbles, rubbing my back as I shake in his arms. "But whoever did it will be missing an arm."

"N-No need, Hun," I sniffle with a shaky sigh, pulling away from his embrace. A chill covers my skin with goosebumps the moment I step away. It’s been like this all week; feeling hot to the touch, yet shaking like a leaf at the same time. I have no idea what is going on, and at this point… I don’t want to know. I can say that for a lot of things.

Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I turn around, smiling apologetically at the brown-haired man standing in the doorway. "I’m sorry for popping up out of the blue, Lu."

"Nonsense," Luhan shakes his head, his curly hair partially covering his worry-filled eyes. He takes my hand between his, "Come in, I’ll make us some tea."

"Okay," I whisper, shuffling into their apartment. I take the tissue box he offers me, following him into the spacious living room. He goes into the kitchen while I sit down on their couch, my breath hitching from the emotions budding in my chest.

Sehun closes the door, noisily walking on the wooden floor in his flip flops. He sits down next to me, questioning me with his unwavering stare, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eye. I… I don’t know where to begin; I can’t even find the words. The squeal of the teapot in the other room fills the tense silence between us.

"Alright," He sighs, propping his foot up on the coffee table and resting his arm on his knee before giving me a hard look. "What did Byun do?"

I choke, snapping my eyes to his, "How do you know?"

"You never visit," He points out in the driest of tones. "And when you do, you always call first."

I can only lower my head, pulling my knees to my chest.

"You don’t usually cry after seeing my face either. I mean," He continues, nudging me with his elbow. "Am I ugly or something?"

I snort. "Shut up." Shaking my head, I sigh deeply. "I just… A lot has happened." Risking a peek at him, my shoulders relax at the worried furrow of his brows and the care in his sharp brown eyes.

He nods, smiling the softest that I’ve seen in a long time. "I got time."

I smile a little, my chest bursting in gratefulness for having a friend like him in my life. No matter what happens or what I get into, I can always count on Sehun to be there.

…

If only I didn’t have so much baggage to bring to his door.

"I…" Come on; I ball my hands into the fabric of my shirt. Say it.

Sehun keeps his eyes on me and I struggle more to get the words out, my chest starting to heave. Should I be here? Should I be doing this? What will he say? What if this just makes everything worse—

No.

Sehun is my best friend. We have shared so many memories together, the good and the bad. I was the first person he came out to. He was there when my father walked out of my life. I cheered him on as he climbed the ranks of his weight training team. He helped me catch fireflies in my backyard when all I could rely on was my poor eyesight.

It’s always been him and I against this cruel world. One man—one boy, won’t change that overnight.

"I broke up with Baekhyun."

"What?!" Sehun leaps off of the couch. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah..." I drag out, looking him up and down in confusion. Panic hits me in the gut. "W-Why? What’s wrong-"

"Dude!" He exclaims, tangling his hands in his hair, the most comically distressed expression on his normally 'bitch’ face. "I thought he broke up with you."

The thought of what would have happened if Baekhyun had been the one to dump me makes my heart hurt so much I feel the color drain from my face.

"H-Hey," Sehun immediately takes notice, waving his hands around. "Not on the couch, anywhere but the couch-"

Luhan suddenly appears behind him with a tray of drinks, lovingly smacking the back of his head. "Here," He soothes, ignoring Sehun’s pelulant whines while setting down the tray on the coffee table and offering a mug to me.

"Thank you, Lu." I breathe, smiling when the scent of lemon and ginger hits my nose.

Luhan takes the seat on the other side of me, resting a comforting hand on my knee. "We’re here." He nods, sharing a look with Sehun before focusing back on me with the gentlest of eyes. "Whenever you are ready."

Gulping, I curl my fingers around my mug, the warmth of the tea and their soft eyes giving me the strength to open up.

I am finally able to put everything into words… I just hope we all make it out unscathed.

Closing my eyes, I start from the very beginning, updating them on what has happened since the year we started dating. The summer fight I never told Sehun about, Baekhyun’s ex Haneul following me around. The French lady at the photoshoot, the model behind the scenes. Our fight that reached the public. What went down at the Byun’s house… And finally… how I ran, and never looked back.

Sehun’s facial expressions shift from one extreme to the next throughout my confession. At one point I have to look away from him, stuttering the more I see the disappointment in his eyes. By the end of it, I’m mumbling to the lukewarm mug between my palms rather than them.

My words trail off into silence, nothing but the ticking of Luhan’s treasured grandfather clock making a sound. I’ve grown to hate this the most: the empty space that leaves room for my thoughts to sneak up on me again.

"You were hiding all of this..." Sehun speaks up, betrayal joining the disappointment in his eyes. "All this time."

A lump forms in my throat, "I-"

"You kept this to yourself for years." He grits out, his voice growing sadder by the minute. "Years, Riley."

"I’m sorry," I sob, curling up into a ball, choking on my tears. "I’m s-so sorry."

"Why?" He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I-I didn’t wanna bother you," I babble, gasping so much for air I choke even more. "You’re busy with work and your own love life, who am I to bother you with my problems?" Tears blur my vision and stain my glasses, rolling uncomfortably down the bridge of my nose. "Isn’t that what growing up is about?" I whisper, staring lifelessly down at my untouched tea. "Learning how to depend on yourself?"

"Riley, I don’t care if you’re fucking 80." Sehun barks, scaring me until he opens his arms, forgiveness swirling in his softened brown eyes. "You can come to me for anything."

"O-Okay," I mumble, hiding in his chest.

"Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"I don’t care if you shave your relaxed hair, adopt a cat, or the world is on fire." He proclaims sternly. "No matter what, you can always come to me."

The comforting smell of fresh laundry on his clothes has my shoulders relaxing, my sobs quieting down to small hiccups. "Okay."

"Good. Now take these sweaters back."

His words take a few moments to register in my sluggish mind. "Huh?" I blink, lifting my head off of him, sitting up fully and immediately recognizing the bundle of clothes in Luhan’s hands. "No," I shake my head, ignoring how dizzy I suddenly feel. "Sehun, those are yours-"

"And I want you to have them."

"I-" My heart constricts in conflict, "But-"

"But nothing. You act like I don’t know that your ass gets cold." He mutters grumpily, crossing his arms. "Keep them, alright?" Being the observant guy that he is, he picks up on my weary glance at Luhan. "Lu chipped in some of his too."

"Mine are comfier," His boyfriend jokes, smiling cheekily.

"Yah."

"You know it’s the truth."

"Only because you—yah! Why are you crying now?!"

"I just…" I sniffle, laughing softly. "I love you guys."

Luhan’s smile brightens while I whine over Sehun messing up my hair. "We love you more."

•••

May passes by in the blink of an eye, mature plants welcoming the upcoming summer heat. I love and hate this for two reasons. One, it’s a certain someone-who-shall-not-be-named birth month. Two, the dance competition is two weeks away. Two weeks. It is literally May 20th and I am sweating my hair out over it.

Why did I agree to this forsaken competition again? Oh right—I decided that a two-step routine is the equivalent of a love triangle. Nice going, Riley.

I sigh, wiping my forehead with the back of my arm. Two weeks until the competition means that my schedule is more packed. Yeah Park’s Publishing may be on an "easy going" break from publishing books right now, but I’m not getting a breather.

Nope, the moment I jokingly told Jongin how I didn’t know what to do with all my free time, he brought up daily dance practice—no, he down right demanded it. And when I started to complain:

"What? It’s not like you have anything else better to do."

I’ve been seething over that for a week.

Huffing at the memory, I plop my bag not-so-subtly on a chair before looking at Jongin on the other side of the room.

"Glaring at me won’t help you perfect the choreo faster-"

"Suck my dick."

"Oh, baby," He grins, raising a brow. "I would if I could." He saunters his way over to me, his beautiful bronze skin already glowing in a thin sheen of sweat when he leans down to face me, "but I don’t mind either way."

I push him away with a hard roll of my eyes, "Let’s get this over with."

"Feisty," He humors. "Someone is feeling better today."

"Better enough to kick your ass," I mutter, tying up my hair in a messy bun.

"Let’s rehearse the second verse," He takes a swing of his water bottle, a serious expression on his features. "Then we’ll talk."

"Bring it on," I lift my chin, playing tough despite the nervousness washing over me.

He nods, grabbing the stereo remote and getting into position. "Show me what you got."

We go over the steps one last time before we begin. The first half of the choreo goes smoothly… and then I stumble the moment the second chorus hits.

"Let’s take a break."

"No," I shake my head, resting my hands on my knees.

"Riley."

"One more time." I pant, trying to catch my breath. "I swear I got it, just-"

"We’ve been at it for 30 minutes."

"But-"

"Break. Now."

I flop to the floor in a tired heap, groaning loudly to annoy him. I’m grateful he called for a break though, my flat feet are crying for mercy like no one’s business. Maybe I should—"Ah," I sigh in relief.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking off my shoes," I mumble, throwing him a look over my shoulder, not liking his attitude. "My feet are dying over here."

Jongin raises a brow, leaning against the mirror on the other side of the room. "Your parents didn’t see a pediatrician about that?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Born and raised in America," I chirp. "The land of the free, Mother fucka."

Both his brows shoot up. "Are you feverous?"

"No," I mumble, fiddling with a loose string on my shirt. "It’s really hot out."

"Have you been sleeping?" His eyes narrow at my lack of response. "Riley?"

"Oh would you look at that, the ceiling tiles have a noticeable gap between them-"

"Sit down."

"I’m fine." I sigh, reluctantly dragging myself over to the only chair in the room.

"You won’t be if you keep this up." He points out, more than a little peeved. "Have you been drinking enough?"

"I-"

He thrusts his water bottle in front of me. "Drink this."

"But you drank from it!"

"I’ll give you mouth to mouth too if you don’t sit your ass down."

I blink, giving him a long, wide-eyed stare. "Why so serious?" The fed up expression on his face is enough of an answer. "Okay—okay! Fine." Inspecting the bottle for anything floating around on the bottom, I tilt my head back to pour some water in my mouth, mumbling with stuffed cheeks, "There, happy?"

Jongin just sighs, turning on a rotating fan. "Stay here. I don’t want you moving until you finish that bottle."

"Sir yes sir," I mutter, giving a little salute. Grinning when he glares sternly at me. He sighs before going back to the other side of the room.

Watching him practice his solo parts in the mirror, I leisurely sip from the bottle, noticing how his shirt sticks to his fit body. Jongin is tall, a bit broad, and lean. He has a dancer’s body and muscle in all the right places—I can’t imagine his diet. I shiver at the thought of it, checking my forehead. I’m not picky about fitness; I’m a bit on the curvy side myself. I rather have something to sink my fingers into. Speaking of which...

"Hey, Jongin?" I call him tentatively, continuing when he hums. "Why… Why did you make a choreo with me in mind?"

He doesn’t respond for a minute, and I wonder if he will until he goes over to retrieve something from his bag. "I always wanted to dance with you," He admits, throwing a towel around his neck. "To know what it was like to view your beauty up close." He bends his knee, bracing his foot against the wall as my eyes widen. "The way you move, twirl around, and glide across the floor. The blissed out expression on your face… You are at home on the dancefloor, and it shows." He looks up at me then. "You shine brighter than a million stars."

I forget how to breathe for a moment, staring at him with wide eyes and a racing heart.

"I’ve never been envious of Baekhyun but..." His sultry eyes meet mine again. "When it comes to you, it’s hard to fight my jealousy."

My lips part a few times, endless questions dying on the tip of my tongue. Realizing I’m gaping like a fish out of water, I settle for looking down with a hot blush.

Jongin chuckles, tossing his towel onto his bag. "Come on," He pushes off of the wall, walking over to me and taking me by the hand. "Let’s finish up for today."

"I can stand up on my own, you know?" I grumble. "...Thank you."

He just smiles before we take our positions in the middle of the room.

We take it from the top again, soaring through the routine without a hiccup. I put all my energy into not missing a step, dancing beside and around him with ease—

"Stop."

"What?" I blink, turning around to him. "What’s wrong now?"

"That."

"What?" I repeat, my eyes narrowing.

"That." He emphasises, gesturing to me. "You’re too tense. You need to relax."

"How do you expect me to relax, Jongin?" I mumble heatedly, hurt swelling inside of my chest. "I broke up with the love of my life. I had a shitty week. I can barely do the second verse of the choreo without breaking my ankles-"

"You can’t relax," He speaks up, suddenly standing in front of me. Staring into my eyes with his determined ones. "Because you don’t want to."

"I-"

"You fear what will happen if you do." He continues, holding me captive with his piercing gaze. "You fear the unknown."

"D-Don’t I have the right to...?" I hush, feeling my heart race the longer I look into his observant brown eyes. A part of me hates it; being read like an open book. My vulnerabilities and weak points on display without me wanting them to be. But this is Jongin.

He stares deep into my eyes, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. "Not on my watch."

There’s nothing to fear.

He selects a song for the stereo to play, and the moment a certain afrobeat instrumental plays through its speakers, I feel the urge to move my body deep in my soul.

"Let go," He encourages, turning around to meet my eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

Woman

Let me be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I can be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I’m intimidated by my reflection in the mirror. The sight of me with messy hair, dewy skin, baggy clothes, and my bare feet makes me feel like the wildest looking woman in the world… until I see the sadness and fear visible in my own eyes.

Let me be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I can be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

Slowly, I move my hips to the beat, getting a feel for it while watching myself in the mirror. My awkward posture makes me tsk, shifting into a more flattering and stable position.

What you need?

She give tenfold, come here, papa, plant your seed

She can grow it from her womb, a family

Provide lovin' overlooked and unappreciated, you see (Yeah)

The lyrics… A sense of empowerment washes over me in waves, motivating the swirl of my hips and the smile forming on my lips. The melody of the song begins to seep into my very bones, warming me up from the inside out.

You can reciprocate

I got delicious taste, you need a woman's touch in your place

Just protect her and keep her safe

Baby, worship my hips and waist

So feminine with grace

I touch your soul when you hear me say, "Boy"

Let me be your woman

Winding my waist feels like the most natural thing in the world, circling my wrists while bringing my hands back down to my sides. I can see Jongin’s proud smile from the corner of my eye.

My movements get more energetic as the chorus plays again, the repetitive lyrics flowing like the blood in my veins, felt deep in my very being. Hitting me on a level that very few things ever could.

I glide across the floor when the second verse begins, letting my hair loose and throwing my weight around. The soreness of my waist only makes me shimmer harder, fighting against the aches trying to hold me back—against the chains locked in my mind.

Princess or queen, tomboy or king (Yeah)

You've heard a lot, you've never seen (Nah)

Mother Earth, Mother Mary rise to the top

Divine feminine, I'm feminine (Why?)

Throwing my hands up, I smile as Jongin starts complimenting my movements, playing a smooth rhythmic cat and mouse game with him all over the dance studio. My bare feet on the wooden floor propels me forward, making me feel more connected with the Earth around me, with the woman I want to be.

I’ve caught up to him by the time the song ends, breathing heavily with giddiness pumping in my veins. For the first time in months, maybe even years, I feel like me again—I’ve found myself again.

A hand tucking hair behind my ear has my eyes snapping up to Jongin’s, the adoring expression in his chestnut brown eyes making me feel small and appreciated at the same time. He cradles my face in the palm of his hand, rubbing his thumb over the apple of my cheek. Tingles erupt on my skin; my heart swells with something I haven’t felt in a long time when he starts to lean in.

"You were out fucking Jongin."

I flinch away, pressing my back to the wall, my heart in my throat. "I-I," I look away, hot embarrassment painting my face red. "I don’t want to make you a rebound." A thought occurs to me at that moment: how much taller and stronger Jongin is than me. The consequence of my actions. The vacant practice room. Fearing the worst, I hold my breath, squeezing my eyes shut.

Nothing happens for a while, the silence dragging on for so long that I start to grow lightheaded, cursing myself for agreeing to all of this in the first place.

Are you happy?

I pause, thinking hard for a moment. Despite the rain cloud constantly hanging over my head, I am doing something that I love. Regardless of me looking like pure shit, Jongin sees a light in me. And against all the fucking odds, I… I feel liberated. I feel free.

With that, I open my eyes, staring fearlessly at the man in front of me.

To my surprise, Jongin smiles. "I don’t want to overstep my boundaries," He mumbles, resting his forehead on mine.

A smile breaks out on my face, putting my secret dimples on full display.

It’s finally D Day—the dance competition is just about to begin, and I can’t for the life of me find my bracelet.

"Do you really need that?" Jongin carefully ruffles his styled hair, squinting with one eye over at me.

"It’s for luck," I justify, searching both our bags.

"You depend on a silly little bracelet to give you luck?"

"My grandma made it for me," I snap, my blood pressure skyrocketing.

"Okay, okay—you," He gently takes me by the shoulders, directing me to his chair. "Sit. I’ll find it."

Finding that all-too-familiar 'no nonsense’ expression on his face, I sigh, carefully covering my eyes with my hand. Both of us got our makeup done for today. He’s got on a golden glimmer of eyeshadow to bring out the sultry brown of his eyes, and I’m rocking a burgundy shade that makes my eyes have their own sensual glare in the mirror.

Tucking my hair-sprayed hair behind my ear, I wince at the thought of washing it out later, but the end result is worth it. My brown hair is bone-straight, complementing Jongin’s lavender-gray, middle-parted hair. Not gonna lie, he’s a total eye-candy right now in that red jacket and mesh shirt, and his stage presence is to die for. His oozing confidence just pumps me up even more.

Watching him pull out my bracelet from some hidden department that I have never seen before in my life and come over to strap it onto my wrist with the gentlest touch has newfound hope blossoming in my heart. We came to perform and we came to perform well.

As if hearing my thoughts, Jongin looks up at me at that moment, nodding firmly.

I nod right back, smiling softly. Win or lose, we are going to give it our all.

We make our way out of the dressing room, listening for our cue from the staff member next to the gap leading out onto the stage. They give directions to someone in their headset before giving us the signal.

I can hear the crowd as we step onto the stage, vibrating the floor under us and my whole being with their excited cheers. Nerves aren't pumping furiously through my veins. No, pure adrenaline guides me forward, and the reassuring smile Jongin sends my way makes me at ease all the more.

When the lights dim and the music starts, my hands are already in my hair, my hips popping to the beat.

Just let it flow as it is for me.

As it moves, show me.

I slide down into a crouch, spreading my knees before rolling my neck to the beat. Quickly standing back up, I slowly run my hands through my hair, swaying my hips side to side. I stop moving to let the crowd focus on Jongin, watching him with a smile.

The party has been getting boring.

Jongin starts doing his own thing while I beckon him closer with a body roll, strutting to him on the other side of the stage. I strike a different pose along to the beat, rubbing my hands over my body and rolling my hips.

Don’t hide it anymore for me

Sliding my hand down my chest, we lock eyes before the chorus hits.

The reason that hides your heart

Do you feel it triggering me a bit?

Here comes the fun part; we sync up our dance moves. Shooting each other little smiles while staying on beat. My long hair sways in the wind; the feeling of being free—free to be me striking me with a sense of comfort in this moment. Jongin catches my eye as if he feels it as well, his killer smirk morphing into a heartwarming smile.

Baby don’t play with me

I slow down to sway my hips to the beat while Jongin slides behind me, pressing his firm chest to my back. The ripples of his abs brush against me through the fabric of his mesh-shirt, warming my sun-kissed skin under the light heat of the partially cloudy sky. His hand tucks under my chin when I face him for the next lyric, "You’re my VIP."

(She talkin’ about)

We sync up again for the next part of the choreography, making me giggle in delight, beaming over the fact that I might have cried a hundred times practicing this choreo but I can finally say that I can dance it without breaking my ankles. And the proud smile on Jongin’s face adds onto that fact.

He points out to the crowd and we change positions as the pre chorus starts again. Jongin acts like the cool, smooth man that he is while I roll my way back to him, matching his moves before blowing a kiss to the crowd when the chorus kicks back in again.

Top down ya

It could be you and me, it could be you and me

I place my hand on Jongin’s shoulder, strutting around him while he shrugs off his jacket. Preparing for the bridge that we changed last minute. Now it’s his time to shine.

Now let me give you what you want tonight

You told me

I take a step back, focusing on complimenting his movements while he has his moment to woo the crowd. Those charming smirks and attractive smiles can steal the heart of anyone, especially the cheering people standing in the front row. There’s a lot of things I’ve learned recently about Jongin, and his unmistakable stage presence is one of them.

The chorus comes back one final time and we go all out. Dancing until our feet ache and the wind picks up around us. The sweet smell of tteokbokki and summer breeze in the air brings another smile to my face. Jongin gets down on the floor while I kneel on one knee to straddle his lap, looking into his eyes with his finger tucked under my chin as the last lyrics of the song fades away.

There’s a long moment of silence, and then the crowd erupts into cheers. Applauding so loud it overwhelms my sensitive ears. Jongin and I step forward to take one last bow, smiling at each other before making our way off stage… but a certain, persistent stare has my eyes flickering back to the crowd. The glimmer of silver hair in the front row is all I allow myself to see before hurrying to leave.

"That was," I start, gasping for breath by the time we reach the dressing room. "Fucking amazing!"

Jongin smiles, glancing over at me, "You liked it, huh?"

"Dude—I fucking lived for it!"

He laughs and it’s super cute, especially with his wide smile.

"That was so cool," I sigh, flopping down onto the couch.

Jongin raises a brow, a smile still on his plump lips. "Would you do it again?-"

"Hell no!" I squeak. "Well… Not unless it’s with you." His eyes dance under the painfully bright lights. "Stop smirking, I take it back."

"Don’t worry." He chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans back against the vanity table. "You’ll be the first one I call next time too."

We’re called back up onto the stage before I can reply, but the smile I beam his way speaks volumes. However, nerves are plaguing my mind this time around. There’s no mistaking the silver hair that I saw in the crowd.

Just as I thought, when we are standing next to the other contestants, there he is. Front and center. I close my eyes with a deep sigh. What the fuck, man? Why are you everywhere?! Can I catch a break from him please? Please?!

Tension builds in my body, but then something cracks.

You know what—

I clench my fists. Fuck him. It doesn’t matter if he’s here or not; he’s no longer a part of my life. Why should I care?

My eyes don’t stray far from the judge and Jongin, even with the constant itch of Baekhyun’s stare. Take a picture, it’ll last longer, asshole.

The minutes seem to drag on as the judge gives his big speech, listing the criterias and rubric for calculating the winner. A whole lot of gibberish that I have no interest in listening to; I hope Jongin is paying attention. The knowing look he gives me when we briefly make eye contact confirms it. Yep, I smile sheepishly. Sorry.

That damn ticklish sensation on my skin still hasn’t moved while the couple in 3rd place steps forward to receive their reward. I swear to the heavens, Byun Baekhyun—

Snapping my neck around, I glare right at him despite my heart dropping at the sight.

He stands in the front row, sticking out like a sore thumb from the rest of the crowd in his black hoodie and dark jeans. The only thing that makes him pop is his ever-silver hair… and the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

My heart races. Are those—

"And the winner is: Jongin and Riley!"

The crowd roars in excitement, everyone standing up to applaud us as the judge hands Jongin the trophy and a helper places a ribbon around my shoulders. I can’t help but beam at Jongin, both of us smiling wide enough for our mouths to hurt later, but I don’t worry about that now. This is our moment. I throw my arms around him, laughing loudly when he sets down the trophy to spin me around in the air.

"We did it!" I wrap my arm carefully around his neck, pumping my fist in the air.

Jongin sets me back down, keeping his arms loosely around my waist. "You," He plants a kiss on the top of my head, "did it."

I can’t erase the smile on my face or the glee in my heart even if I tried. My eyes glance back out at the crowd while he goes around congratulating the other contestants, immediately locking onto those soul-sucking, puppy brown eyes. Half a year later and his eyes never fail to make me feel nothing and everything all at once. But I won’t let that define me: I’m not Baekhyun’s woman anymore.

Spectators in the crowd around him are buzzing with energy, dancing to the outro music they are playing overhead while he continues to stand stock-still, his brown eyes focused on me.

My mind drifts for a second, imagining what it would have been like to be standing up on this stage with him, winning the competition with him by my side. I acknowledge it, let my mind have its little reminiscing moment—and then nip it right in the bud.

I don’t want to live a life of 'What ifs?’ anymore—I want to experience those 'Why nots?’ instead.

I sense Jongin before he steps closer, his chest brushing against the back of my arm. "Are you ready to go?" He asks, his lips grazing my ear.

I continue to lock eyes with Baekhyun, laughing inwardly at the unreadable expression on his face and the lack of a sparkle in his eyes. And when that tall raven from months ago runs to pull him into a hug, my gaze doesn’t waver from his in the slightest. "Yes." I turn my back on him and rest my hand on Jongin’s bicep with a swirl of my hips, peeking at him from under my eyelashes.

He smiles down at me, understanding dawning in his eyes. We link our arms together while walking backstage and out of the stadium.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1) P(2) | Part 6 P(1) P(2) —– P(3) P(4) —– P(5) P(6) ✓ ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1) P(2)

A/N: Team Jongin or Team Baekhyun? After that dance practice scene, my heart is stuck somewhere in between 💔

Hiya! Long time no see (^-^)

I don't have much to say ahh (>.<) my brain is fried. The emotions in this chapter came from a week of sleepless nights and a marathon of Doja Cat's Planet Her <3 I still got 10 scenes to finish up before Six Phases will be completed. This isn't the end! Just the best cliffhanger I could do with a 100+ page doc (thanks to my nearsightedness. font-size 16 is a lifesaver)

I might suddenly drop the Finale out of nowhere :'D everything depends on Riley~

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story!! 🥺🥰🌸💗 Writing this baby (haha) is my favorite thing to do and to share it with all of you means the world to me <333 Alright, I'll stop being mushy. Have a great weekend, lovelies! See you as soon as the Finale is done~

Happy two years of Un Village & city lights!!

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Thank you endless Baekhyunee for inspiring me. I wouldn't be here without you ❤️

#baekhyun angst #baekhyun romance #baekhyun fanfiction #bbh-net #baekhyun #Team J or Team B?#Six Phases

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bluejay-writes · 2 years ago

Text

A sort of Fairy Tail - Chapter 3

Rating: T / PG-13, SFW. Fandom: Mystic Messenger Relationships: 707/MC (Jaena)/Saeran Chapter 3 Wordcount: 2899 Summary:

Freelance Hacker by day, cosplayer by weekend, Jaena Grey was living her best life. One fateful convention, she meets a scarily talented fellow costumer and his friend Zen.

When Jaena finds herself embroiled in the usual Mint Eye apartment plot, Seven panics to see someone he knows. Hijinks ensue, including Jaena spending the majority of her time cosplaying as 707 in his own bunker to hide herself from Vanderwood - for better or worse.

You can also read this on AO3! <- Also a good place to check tags.

Chapter 3: Crafting 606

“So… you’re a long ways from Comic Con.” he said, once they were in his car, speeding away from the apartment.

“So are you.” She said, but relented. “I’m on vacation. Came to take a spring session at SKY University about Special Effects work and I’ve got two weeks left here for normal tourist bullshit before I go home.”

“Why just tell me all that?” He said, smirking.

“You’re a hacker. That’s all surface level, and you probably already knew it, or well assumed the latter based on flight dates.”

“Oof, ya got me.” He said, chuckling. “You seem familiar with the hacker life.”

“Did you think cosplay was my career?” She said, smirking.

“No. You’re not jaded enough to be a full time "content creator”, either. So… filthy rich, maybe? Admittedly, I didn’t dig too deep into the mystery woman because, well, you’re you. I couldn’t just leave my cosplay buddy in a room with a bomb.” His eyes blew wide and he slapped a hand over his mouth.

“A bomb?” Jaena asked, raising an eyebrow, but trying to tamp down her reaction otherwise.

“Yeah. Rika made me set it up for information security, but… there’s probably something more than just guest information there if she wanted something like that.”

“Oh, fuck. I thought you were joking.” Jaena said, a chill running down her spine.

“I mean, I do that a lot, but… not about this. It’s why I dropped everything and came to get you. You’re just lucky I was out grocery shopping when you appeared in the chat. Hope you’re up for a decent car trip, we’re about an hour out from the bunker, if I speed.”

“Only speed when it’s fun.” Jaena said, and leaned her head back on the car seat. “Can we stop by my hotel for my things? Wait, are you kidnapping me? Should I be worried?”

“We can’t go now, I need to get back before Vanderwood realizes something’s up, but I’ll make time later tonight or tomorrow to drive you back there. And I guess you’re kinda being kidnapped? You already were, and now I’m holding onto you to keep you safe.”

“Oh, for real?” Jaena couldn’t help but channel her inner Chad. “That’s fine. Doesn’t change my plans at all. Might even save me money.”

“Honestly? I don’t know how you’re as calm as you are.” he said, shaking his head.

“Believe me, I’ll break down later, once I feel safe.” She said, sighing. “This is a lot. Not at all what I wanted from my vacation, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope I’d run into you here.”

“Me? Why here?” he sounded confused, but a quick glance told her he was smirking.

“Well, you were with Zen that day and this is his hometown. Also I didn’t run into you again that entire con circuit so it was unlikely you were one of his ‘local’ friends or something. Besides, you mentioned customs about your Unbreakable costume.”

“Oh, you knew it was Zen, then?”

“Lucy did. She’s still mad that she didn’t manage to score his number.”

“Oh my god he has not stopped whining at me about blocking him.” Luciel laughed, and Jaena realized she really loved the sound of his laugh. “Maybe I can have you give his number to your girl, if she’s trustworthy and not likely to screw his career over.”

“Lord no, she’s the most respectful fan you’ll ever meet.” Jaena paused and then added “At least in public. I’m sure she’d disrespect the hell out of him in the bedroom.”

“You did not just say that!” Luciel crowed, smacking his hand against the steering wheel.

Jaena woke a little bit later, not realizing she’d fallen asleep until the sound of the phone ringing through the car speakers startled her awake.

Luciel turned and looked at her.

“Don’t say anything. Don’t breathe loud. Okay? I have to take this. It’s… work.”

Jaena nodded to show she understood, and laid her head back against the seat again, figuring that would make him more comfortable.

“What?” he said, after he’d tapped to accept the call.

“Zero Seven, where are you? That grocery run should have had you back here an hour ago, at the latest.”

“Sorry, Vandy, I ran into a friend at the store and we got to talking. You know how it is.”

“Don’t call me Vandy. And stop spending so much time with those RFA Nerds. I have to go make a house call. You’d better be home and working by the time I call you again.”

“I’m like ten minutes from home. I’ll get the job done tonight, just like I promised.”

“You damn well better.” The voice, ostensibly ‘Vandy’ seemed irritated, and the call cut.

“Sorry about that.” Luciel said after a minute. “The life of a hacker is trash.”

“Tell me about it.” Jaena said, with a roll of her eyes. “I was really looking forward to this vacation.”

Luciel eyed her. “I want to dig deeper into that statement but first I gotta handle this situation.”

“What situation?”

“Welp.” Luciel sighed. “I’m not supposed to have friends. Vandy tolerates the RFA because I work better with them around than I did before I started working with them, but…”

“The who?”

“Oh. That’s the chatroom you were in. I’ll give you the rundown on that once we’re settled at home, but. I’m definitely not supposed to bring a distractingly cute girl home. So.”

Jaena blinked. Distractingly Cute? Like, she was easy enough on the eyes, she supposed, but that was a nice compliment he’d paid her. Not that he gave her a chance to say anything before going on.

“I was thinking since you’re so good at cosplay…wanna just cosplay as me? See how long we can fool Vanderwood?”

“Uh. What’s the bad ending?” Jaena asked, immediately imagining herself in his current outfit.

“Well, worst case, Vanderwood thinks you’re an enemy plant and tases you.”

“Zap-dead or Zap-tingles-oh-god-ow?”

“The latter. He doesn’t kill unless he has to.”

“Well, then I think this is a hilarious plan and I’m into it. but do you have a you-wig? I don’t want to cut off my hair.”

“Yeah, well, cutting your gorgeous hair would earn me a fate worse than death. A tragedy. A travesty. The worst timeline.” Luciel said, grinning. “Oh. And you should get used to calling me Seven.”

“Seven?” She blinked. Zen had called him that, so had people in the chat. Also the agent.

“Well, technically I’m Agent 707 EXTREME.”

“…extreme?” She smirked at him.

“I was twelve, cut me some slack.”

“Oof, that’s too young, babe.” she said, laughing, and had to think back on what she’d said when she realized he’d gone as red as his hair. “Oh. I. Um.” Now she was blushing. Great.

“It’s fine.” he said quietly, and she just let it pass.

“Okay.” He said, grinning like an idiot. “This is my cosplay cave.”

Jaena didn’t know what she was expecting when he led her down to yet a deeper basement, but a fully furnished entire floor walk-in closet full of (irritatingly well organized) cosplay paraphernalia was not it.

“Vanderwood doesn’t come down here, says it scares him, so I figure we’ll set you up a place to sleep and game or whatever.”

“First thing I’m going to do is see if I can’t track down Unknown.” Jaena said, her voice tense.

“Oho! Another hacker! I thought that’s what you were getting at earlier.” He slung an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe cosplaying God Seven is a perfect choice then.”

Jaena laughed, but it was somewhat forced. “I might need to stay in that chat room and pretend nothing’s different if we want to convince Unknown that I’m still in the apartment.”

“There are cameras, he already knows you’re gone. Besides, I said I was coming to get you.” Seven said, dropping his arm. “But you’re right that keeping you in the chat isn’t a bad idea. Hell, then I can chat with you even when Vanderwood is here. V seems convinced that Rika wanted this, which… fuck, I am going to have to explain everything about Rika and the RFA now.”

“Wait.” Jaena said, “One thing at a time. Let’s just get me back in the chat, and you can tell them you took me somewhere safe, and we’ll let them explain the way V wanted them to. Less work for you. More time for me to track Unknown without having to explain what I’m doing.”

“Alright. First thing’s first, turning you into me.” Seven walked over to the wall of wigs, and grabbed one that was in fact a perfect replica of his own hair, and handed it to her. “Caps and pins are by the mirror on that wall. I’ll be right back with my spare hoodie.”

Jaena didn’t take long to get her hair braided and up out of the way under the wig. Her own hair lent a bulk under the cap that actually made it look more like his messy hair than she expected. Next step was seeing if he had anything she could use to bind her chest. Sure, he wore loose fitting clothes, but not loose enough to hide her obvious feminine features.

Strolling over to what looked like the complicated underpinnings section of his closet, Jaena was simultaneously surprised and confused to find binders in multiple colors and fabrics. Weirdo. She chuckled, carefully stripping off her shirt and bra, and settling herself into a binder with a sigh. It had been awhile since she’d worn one of these, but they always made her feel safe. Contained. Hidden.

Behind her, Seven cleared his throat. “You aren’t wearing a shirt.”

Jaena turned to look at the ginger, a pile of clothes in his hands, and a light blush on his cheeks. “Silly boy, You’ve seen me in less. In public.”

“It’s oddly different when you’re in my home, though.” He tossed her a shirt, and she carefully slipped it on. “Also I don’t know how we’re going to hide your hips. I hope my jeans actually fit you. They might be too big. I didn’t think about that…” Seven trailed off as Jaena shed her own jeans without a second thought for modesty.

Jaena shrugged. “People see what they want to see.” She held out her hand, and he held out the jeans. “Oh, these should be fine.” she said after a glance at the size tag.

Seven of course had turned away, red as a tomato at Jaena’s lack of concern with him seeing her in various states of undress. When he dared to turn back, Jaena was once again fully clothed. In his clothes. She held her hand out for the hoodie and slipped it on, noticing something clink together in the pocket. When she pulled it out, she saw a set of contact lens bottles, with Seven’s gold color floating in them.

“They’re blanks. I don’t know if you wear actual contacts or anything, but…”

“Nope! I have a smidge of farsightedness, but nothing worth correcting.” Jaena said, as Seven directed her over to the cosplay bathroom.

“I’ll have to move some things so you can use this as an actual bathroom… no shower down here, but you can use mine…”

Jaena tried not to smile at his rambling, while sliding lenses in her eyes. Some part of her knew he could have put something in the contact solution, but she doubted he would. He’d made a point of handing her sealed containers, after all. She turned back to him and he beckoned her out of the bathroom space.

“Do a little spin?” He gestured, and she did a little spin.

“What do you think?”

“Well, you’re no 707, but…. 606 maybe.”

“Aw, what’s wrong?” Jaena looked herself over, pursing her lips.

“The voice, Scarlet.” he said, laughing. “So maybe don’t talk to Vanderwood. Or whisper?”

“Okay.” she whispered, and Seven wrapped her in his arms and spun her around. She laughed, his joy was contagious.

“Now, I have to work lest Vandy actually tase me intentionally.” he said, pouting. “Come upstairs, I’ll get you set up with a laptop while I get some things running.”

<707 entered the chat> <Jaena entered the chat> Yoosung★: They’re back! 707: Sorry for the delay, figured if we didn’t want an intruder in Rika’s apartment, and the intruder also didn’t want to be there, best bet was to get them out. V: I’d like to explain what we’re about, and what we’d like from you. Before I go.

Jaena watched as the chat explained, each in their own words, about the RFA and the parties they host, and what they’d hope she’d be willing to do. She hadn’t the heart to tell them that she was due to fly back home in two weeks. Maybe if this was something she could do from her condo, but…

V: And I have to run. Take good care of our new member, everyone. <V left the chat> Yoosung★: Just like that he’s gone, like he was never here. Jumin Han: He is a busy artist. Jaena: V’s departure aside, thank you for all of that. Also I’m sorry for being rude earlier. Jumin Han: Oh, it has manners. ZEN: It’s a she. Jumin Han: Still haven’t proven that to me. Jaehee Kang: Nice to have another woman around, Jaena. Yoosung★: Wait, Seven, so Jaena is definitely a girl? 707: Hey wait Jaena, can I….?

Seven’s voice echoed down the stairs, “They want to see pics. I have ones from con?”

Jaena wasn’t sure how that would help them believe she was a real person, but also she’d looked heckin good at that con, so there was no reason not to.

Jaena: I guess? 707: [shot of Jaena as Erza, as he met her] Yoosung★: Seven… that’s just you in cosplay. ZEN: Seven, that’s just that girl you were crushing on last comic con. Jaena: …crushing on? ZEN: Oh yeah. Seven met this girl and hasn’t stopped talking about her basically since. Yoosung★: Oh yeah! His perfect Scarlet! 707: omg guys can you not… Jaena: Perfect Scarlet, eh Seven? 707: Oh no 707: uh 707: [Depressed Emoji] Yoosung★: omg is it actually her ZEN: WHAT?! ZEN: [Shocked Emoji] Jaena: I can’t send photos on this chat, but…

Jaena’s cheeks were hot, but she knew if she didn’t make herself look like a real person in their eyes they were going to disbelieve in her very existence. She bit her lip as she flipped through her selfies and grabbed one of the ones she’d taken to prove to Lucy that she was alive, and sent it to Seven’s number from her real phone, which had multimedia messaging still enabled, unlike the thing that was practically a brick with a messenger attached.

Yoosung★: Seven make it so she can send us pics! 707: Oh, she sent me one from her actual phone. Here, current Jaena. 707: [Selfie of Jaena with Boba on SKY campus] Yoosung★: Hey that’s my school! Jaena: I was auditing a class there this last semester. Too bad we never ran into each other! ZEN: Seven would have been jealous. Jaena: Anyway that’s me. Sorry for dropping in on your chat like this. Jaena: Or I guess, getting kidnapped into your chat for some reason. Jaehee Kang: That is concerning. Jaena: Don’t worry, I’m not kidnapped anymore, I think. ZEN: Seven, you aren’t pranking us, right? ZEN: You weren’t Unknown, were you? 707: I am not Unknown. 707: I am grateful to him for bringing my Scarlet to me though! 707: [Heart Eyes Emoji] Jaehee Kang: I have too much work to do for whatever this chat is turning into. Jaehee Kang: Jaena, do reach out if you need some girl talk, though. Jaena: Back at you! Jumin Han: Yes, I too am going to excuse myself. <Jumin Han left the chat> <Jaehee Kang left the chat> ZEN: No offer of girl talk from Jumin, though, I see. Yoosung★: Wait, does that mean Seven has a girlfriend now? Jaena: Whoa whoa whoa Jaena: Nothing like that. 707: We’re friends though 707: We’re having soft tacos later. Jaena: ok catbug 707: nyaaa ZEN: NO CATS. ZEN: I’m leaving. ZEN: But not because of you, Jaena. <ZEN left the chat> Yoosung★: I have to go too, the land of LOLOL is calling. <Yoosung★ left the chat> Jaena: Well, that was an abrupt end to a hectic conversation. 707: We don’t think it be like that, but it do. 707: I gotta work. You gotta work. Text if you need something. Jaena: Yes, sir! Perfect Scarlet, signing off. <Jaena has left the chat> 707: God help me, I’m never going to live that down. <707 has left the chat>

Later, sitting on her makeshift bed on the floor of the fancy-dresses section, Jaena stared at the image on the screen. She’d managed to hack into surveillance cameras near where she’d been when she ran into Unknown. Either he was cocky, or he was an idiot. She’d managed to get a shot of his face from the nearby bank’s camera.

“Hey, Scarlet.” Seven said from the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey, Seven.” she said, not tearing her eyes from the screen. “Do you have a twin?”

#mysme #mystic messenger #fanfic #chapter fic #choi twins #707/MC/Saeran

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