#genuinely how he looked on that stage no lie

[darl-ingfics]

Feveruary Day 21: From Better to Worse

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Seungkwan (cold)

Caregiver(s): Joshua (feat. San of ATEEZ and Yeji of ITZY)

Word Count: 1,460

January had been a hard month for Seungkwan. From prepping for and performing at award shows to serving as a MusicBank MC to promoting with BSS to regular Seventeen practices and album preparation, not to mention maintaining a semblance of a social life with his friends and family… it was a lot, to say the least. So many interviews with jokes to make, fans to charm, conversations to focus on. An endless stream of hair and makeup noonas so kindly making him look flawless, and the fear of messing up their work after. Shedding one stage outfit just to put another on. A constant shuffle of protein bars gobbled down on the car ride from one building to another, coupled with ibuprofen and extra vitamins to fight off the cold he was vaguely aware was creeping up on him. Far too much coffee and barely enough water. So few hours of dreamless sleep that kept his body physically moving but left him just as bone-tired as when he’d collapsed onto the bed. 

Seungkwan was positive that he had developed the ability to completely shut off his body’s complaints as an evolutionary necessity. When he was on camera or on stage or even just chatting with his industry peers backstage or on set, smiles and casual chatter came naturally. He was a mood maker by nature; his reputation as Seventeen’s energizer bunny wasn’t manufactured in the slightest, but simply Seungkwan being Seungkwan. Besides, his job as an idol didn’t allow him the time or space for self-pity; he chose this job, and he was going to do it well, no matter what. 

Even when that cold overpowered his immune system. But it wasn’t anything Seungkwan couldn’t handle. He’d muscled through harder schedules with worse than a sore throat and the sniffles. This was child’s play. And he told his ‘worry wart’ (his words) members as much when they voiced their concern to him, begging him to slow down, or at least sit down. Sure, he didn’t fight Hoshi or Jihoon when both unit leaders told him to mark his movements and high notes during rehearsal, nor did he refuse any of the countless remedies pushed on him by his hyungs. He didn’t lie about how he was feeling either; he acknowledged being sick and genuinely didn’t feel bad enough to warrant taking a rest. So his members had no choice but to watch him, their hands ready to catch him should he fall. 

And fall her did. 

On January 15th, the day before his birthday, Seungkwan’s schedule was as packed as could be: group practice from 8 to 11, then Music Bank for MC rehearsal from 11:30 to 1, then there were a series of interviews packed in from 1 to 3, which was when he had to be back at Music Bank to prep not only to MC but also to perform with BSS. 

Everything had been going well. The tea with honey he’d had that morning and the decongestants he took routinely throughout the day were doing their job. The rehearsals went smooth. The interviews were fun. He’d been a perfectly professional MC. He’d shined brightly on stage with Soonyoung and Seokmin. 

And then the cameras had stopped rolling. Soonyoung had been pulled away to film dance challenges. Seokmin was chatting with some friends. Seungkwan, left in a moment to himself, felt all the noise in the room beginning to fade into the background, his focus narrowing dangerously to the sound of his own heartbeat. He walked backstage, feeling like he was underwater as he bowed politely and smiled woodenly at all of the staff and colleagues he passed. He entered the hallway, flinching at the suddenly too bright lights, walked a few steps, sat down on a bench. Took a deep breath. And fell apart. 

Hands shaking, Seungkwan crumpled over his knees, unable to handle the awfulness overtaking him. His entire body felt too hot, skin crawling underneath the layers of makeup and clothing and sweat. His head was pounding, sinuses specifically aching as if he’d been on a plane. His throat was screaming and his chest felt suddenly tight. His body refused to be ignored another second, and he couldn’t handle that. 

“Seungkwan, you down here? Kwannie?!” The worried cry vaguely broke though Seungkwan’s haze of misery. He didn’t look up until he felt hands on his knees. Seungkwan opened his eyes straight into Joshua’s warm, waiting gaze. He had no idea his hyung was coming to the show tonight (it had, in fact, been a surprise all along, something Seungkwan would learn later). “Seungkwan-ah?! What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel good.” Seungkwan shook his head. 

Joshua frowned, thumbs stroking gently against Seungkwan’s knees. “I thought you said you were feeling better?”

“I am! I… I was…” Seungkwan’s expression crumpled. He dropped forward, covering his face with his hands. And he sobbed. Having Joshua here, knowing that someone who loved him was present in this space with him, looking at him like that, was enough for all of Seungkwan’s defenses to crack. 

“Oh, angel,” Joshua murmured, voice silk soft as Seungkwan fell into his arms. Joshua wrapped his own arms around his dongsaeng, one wrapping around Seungkwan’s back while the other wound upward, supporting his neck, fingers tangled in his hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Hyung, I wanna go home.” Seungkwan’s voice was so desperately soft, so heartbreakingly exhausted and feeble and not their usual sunshiny entertainer. He sniffled harshly, pulling back from Joshua just enough to scrub at his eyes. 

Joshua moved a hand to brush sweaty bangs off of the younger man’s forehead. “Of course you do, love. You’ve had a looong day. How about we get you back to your dressing room, change your clothes, and head straight home. How does that sound?” Seungkwan contemplated the offer, biting his lip as he forced his weary brain to work. Just as he nodded his head, footsteps rounded the corner. 

“Seungkwan-hyung! There you are!” came the bright voice of Choi San. Both Seungkwan and Joshua looked up to see the ATEEZ member walking towards them, Hwang Yeji next to him. Both of their smiles faded the closer they got. “Hyung, what’s wrong?”

“Is everything okay?” Yeji asked, looking worriedly between the pair. Seungkwan grasped Joshua’s hand and squeezed. 

The elder vocalist knew exactly what that meant. “Everything will be okay,” Joshua answered with a reassuring smile. “Kwannie’s just had a long week, and everything’s hitting him right now.”

San pouted sympathetically, a look Yeji mirrored. “I’m sorry, hyung. I hope we didn’t add…”

“No!” Seungkwan exclaimed, irritating his throat and prompting a cough. He shook his head. “No, you two were probably the highlight of this very long, very tiring week. I would not have traded this for the world.”

“Well, it’s been an honor working with you, so how can we help you now?” Yeji asked, hands planting on her hips, ready for action. San mimicked her pose and determined expression. 

Seungkwan paused in thought, eventually just squeezing Joshua’s hand again. The older man smiled, standing up as he addressed the other two, “Can you go round up Hoshi and DK? We can’t leave without them.”

“On it!” San mimed a salute before crouching to pat Seungkwan’s knee. “Feel better, hyung. We’ll see you next week?” Seungkwan nodded affirmatively as Yeji swooped in to kiss his temple. And then it was just him and Joshua again. The elder vocalist, thankfully, hadn’t let go of his hand yet. 

“Why is everyone so nice to me?” Seungkwan asked, teary eyes looking up at his hyung. 

“Because it’s so easy to love you, Boo,” Joshua replied. He chuckled to himself as a single, fat tear rolled down Seungkwan’s cheek, brushing it away with his thumb. “Come on, let’s get you home. I can have dinner waiting for us when we get back, anything you want. And I’m sure Cheollie can arrange a day off for you tomorrow.”

“But I’m not that sick…”

“Bullshit. You’re running a fever now, bud, that’s veering towards ‘stay home’ territory.” Seungkwan looked away guiltily. “And even if you were fine, it’s always nice to get a little time off for your birthday.”

Seungkwan’s palm smacked his forehead none-too-gently. “Oh my gosh! How could I forget my own freaking birthday?!”

Joshua chuckled again, pulling Seungkwan to his feet and latching a protective arm around his shoulders when the younger man wobbled. “We gotta get you a lighter schedule soon, or these month-long colds are gonna fry all your brain cells.” Seungkwan pinched his side, but rested his head against Joshua’s shoulder, finally feeling a sense of calm return to him after half of a month of chaos. 

[babyleostuff]

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝜗𝜚 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄: fluff, established relationship, down bad wonwoo (he’s a certified simp) 𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: idol!wonwoo x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎��𝐍𝐓: 1.6k

⦗💌 ⦘ though it didn’t bother wonwoo that his girl wasn’t a gamer like him, he was over the moon when one day she proudly declared she started gaming. one thing he forgot to ask - what kind of games she was playing.

𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: guys if i play dress to impress does it mean im finally a gamer?

wonwoo was having a stroke. 

months ago, when you first started going out, he of course had to mention his love for gaming and computers, no matter how lame it made him - he figured if it bothered you then you simply weren’t fit for him. but, thankfully, you didn’t find it unappealing whatsoever, you even asked him questions about games and whatnot, sounding genuinely interested. 

and he wouldn’t lie - it’d be cool if you were a gamer as well, but… 

“no, it’s not for me,” you said when he asked if you played. “i don’t really get the hype, and to be honest i just suck really bad.” 

…but wonwoo understood that you didn’t have to share his every passion, besides - you had your hobbies, he had his, and that was perfectly fine. he was more than happy to indulge in activities that you enjoyed and getting to know you even better through them. 

during the course of your relationship you still didn’t show any interest in his games. well, maybe except for when you wanted cuddles, then you suddenly took a great interest in what was happening on his computer, but wonwoo didn’t mind. it was cute how you tried to keep up with the game though you had no idea what it was about, especially when you were sleepy.  

sometimes, though, you felt bad that you didn’t share his passion, that you didn’t know about all of the new updates, and gaming terms, or what the different keys on the keyboard were responsible for, but wonwoo was always quick to shut down those silly thoughts of yours. “i don’t mind, honey,” he always said and kissed your cheek. “i really don’t”. 

so it was safe to say that he had never expected to hear, "i'm a gamer now, baby. i play games," with a proud smile on your lips. 

wonwoo’s day had been long and hard, his muscles were aching from the hours spent on dancing and moving around the stage, and his head was begging for a moment of silence from all the yelling and yapping of his members. 

but that, that just woke him up like no amount of coffees or red bulls could. 

“huh?” he managed to say in utter confusion. 

he didn’t like how you were smiling. there was something sinister about it. 

“there’s this game everyone is playing now. i saw some videos on tik tok,” you had to stifle a giggle seeing your boyfriend’s expression upon the mention of the app he considered cursed, “and it looked fun. so… i’ve been playing it ever since you left for work.” 

well, maybe you did find it on tik tok, but a game was still a game, so wonwoo figured he should count that as a win. 

“let me show you,” you declared and took his hand with an excited grin, before he could say anything else, let alone ask you what kind of game you were talking about. 

you quickly pulled him into his bedroom, totally dismissing mingyu’s “hello”, and made him sit on his gaming chair. 

“i know you don’t like it when people touch your computer-,”.

“you can use it, honey, i don’t mind,” he cut you off and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. as ecstatic as wonwoo was about your breakthrough in gaming, he could wait to go to bed and finally get his well deserved cuddles from you. 

“okay okay,” you said and unintendedly ran your fingers through his hair. “so here it is,” you pointed at the screen behind him. 

wonwoo had no idea what game could have finally caught your attention. even the adorable characters from animal crossing weren’t cute enough for you to spend more than five minutes on the game, but what he saw on his computer...

"what, uh," he gulped. "what is that?"

“dress to impress!” 

well, it certainly did not impress wonwoo. 

“it’s like a dressing up game,” you added, when your boyfriend didn’t say anything. “here.” 

you rolled him a bit away from the desk so you could take your designated place on his lap, and disconnected the headphones from the computer, which made everything so much worse. the music that was playing in the background had to be one of the worst sounds he had ever heard. 

“look,” you pointed at the timer at the top of the screen. “the game is starting.” 

he could feel how you were buzzing with excitement, clapping your hands in tiny, waiting for the time to run out. 

“okay, see? here’s the theme,” wonwoo nodded sceptically, but nonetheless tightened his grip on your waist. 

album cover. 

then the screen changed to what looked like a large walk-in closet the size of his and mingyu's apartment. a bunch of other characters were running around, and the god awful music was still playing, and you started to run around as well, and, “oh my god, what was going on?”. 

“who should i dress up as?” you bit your nail, clearly very focused. wonwoo took a peek at your furrowed brows, and small pout and for a second he drowned out the annoying sound coming from his computer, just to focus on your adorable expression.  

“i can do you!” you said, and turned around to quickly place a kiss on his cheek. “from the “face the sun” concept photos. technically it’s not an album cover, but… no one here is ever on theme anyway”.  

wonwoo could only watch as you slowly changed your outfit into something that was supposed to resemble one of his concept photos, only in a more cutified version, because as you said, "you're a babygirl". with the minutes ticking by, he couldn’t help but smile at you being so focused on putting the whole outfit together. 

"okay, it's done," you said, leaning back so you were resting against wonwoo's chest. "now it's show time."

one by one, the characters walked the carpet, presenting their… whatever their outfits were. 

“ugh, this fit sucks ass,” you groaned, and nuzzled your head into his shoulder. “wait til one of them hits the twenty eight pose,” you said, and by the tone of your voice wonwoo did not want to see that. 

“why are you giving everyone one star?” he asked, confused. “that one wasn’t that bad,” he pointed at the character that dressed up as ariana’s dangerous woman. 

“you never give anyone more than one star,” you stated as a matter of fact. “oh, look,” you squealed. “it’s me.” 

indeed it was you, and for what it was worth - your outfit looked the best in wonwoo’s opinion. but then again you were best in everything to him, so his opinion didn’t count. and then the screen turned black again. 

the winners are… 

“now we’ll see who placed on the podium,” you explained, and grabbed his hand that was still resting on your waist. 

wonwoo nodded and put his chin on your shoulder. “i’m sure you’re going to be first, honey.” 

“huh,” you huffed. “i wouldn’t be so sure about that.” 

and yeah, you were right. in the first place there was a character that wasn’t dressed up at all, in the second someone with the vip sign dressed as if they were going to the circus, and in the third there was a very creepy character of a man.

you clicked your tongue annoyed. “told you.” 

well, that was an experience wonwoo had never thought he’d have the, uh, pleasure to go through. 

“so,” you got up, and just when wonwoo was about to whine about the lack of your warmth, you straddled his lap. “what do you think?” you cupped his cheeks and smiled at him brightly. 

he wasn’t sure he was thinking at all, at this point. 

the annoying music? unbearable. the clearly not on theme outfits? hideous. the weird poses that freaked him out? he was sure he’d get nightmares from them. 

wonwoo must’ve been thinking too long about his answer so as not to hurt your feelings, because the smile slowly started to disappear from your face. "you think it's weird, right?" you asked and looked down.

"what? no, it's not that, it's-,".

"sweetie, i understand," you laughed quietly. "it's a game for kids, and a little cheesy at that but-,".

"no no," wonwoo quickly said and grabbed your face in his hands so he could lift your head. "i just didn't expect this. you always said you didn't like to game and i didn't know what to expect."

"yeah, but still-,".

"oh could you be quiet for a second?" he smiled when he saw the corners of your lips lift up. "i didn't mean to make you feel bad and i'm sorry if it did.” 

yeah, the game might not have been his style, and he would never have played it himself, but you liked it. and that was all he cared about. he had never seen you smile like that when he was gaming - your eyes were practically heart shaped when you were dressing up your character, and if this wasn't the most adorable thing ever he didn't know what it was. 

if it made you happy, then it made him happy too.

"you have no idea how glad you found a game you like," he ran his thumbs over your cheeks. "and you know what? if i played myself i'd definitely give your outfit five stars."

you giggled, and wrapped your hand around one of his wrists. "thank you, wonwoo."

"of course," he muttered and pecked your forhead. "now tell me, is there a way we could play it at the same time?"

"wonwoo, you don't have to-,"

"but i want to," he said.

for a moment you just looked at him with a raised brow, as if you were trying to figure out if he was really telling the truth. and he really was. wonwoo would survive any horrible outfit and that annoying music just to see you so excited and happy again.

"are you sure?"

he quickly nodded.

"okay, then let me get my computer."

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[gghostwriter]

Death of a Love Affair

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t.

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: this felt oddly personal to me this is my first time writing in the Y/N perspective and in a one shot format so please be kind. I kinda left a possibly for p2, not sure about that yet, but let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Main masterlist || Part 2A (happy end) || Part 2B (sad end)

The first time it happened, you completely understood. 

You had an inkling as to what you were getting into when you started dating a 187 genius who graduated at a young age and who was scouted straight from college by the FBI. It wasn’t hard to comprehend these external circumstances mixed with his internal need to prove himself worthy of belonging with the big boys would result in missed personal events. It was a given, you expected it.

You just didn’t count on him missing your graduation. After all, he gave his word that he’ll be there to see you walk the stage and receive your diploma. He promised you and yet, as you scanned the crowd of loved ones hugging the attendees, there was no sign of his tie wearing, button up lithe form weaving through the crowd, no sign of his slicked hair, meticulously tucked behind his ears and no sign his doe eyed hazel eyes shining with pride as you joined the ranks of adulthood and unemployment.

You reach for your phone, now finally free from the nerves and adrenaline of going up the stage, with a single unread message from the one you wished to be here with you.

I’m sorry, angel. There’s a case and Gideon needs me. 

You sighed with a mild smile sprouting on your glossed lips as you sent back a reply.

No worries! We can celebrate when you get back. Be safe, I love you.

“Oh honey, I’m so proud of you!” Your mom exclaimed, reaching for a hug. “You graduated and with so many achievements—I mean look at all these cords hanging around your neck!”

You laughed as you stepped out from her warm embrace and watched joyful tears gather under her eyes. “Thanks, Mom! Hopefully all these cords help me get a job soon, huh, or else I’ll be moving back home with you.”

“Oh honey, stop joking! As if I wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms,” she quipped back. 

A hand holding a bouquet of flowers shot up to your face. It was a bundle of your favorite, carnations, in ranges of different colors. 

“Congratulations, lil sis,” your older brother, Trevor, breathed out. “Do I get a hug too or is that just for Mom?” 

You giggled as you stepped into his arms, happy to be sharing this moment with your ever loving protector of a brother, no matter how busy he might be as a head chef for his own highly rated restaurant.

“Hey big brother, thanks for being here,” you mumbled in his tight grasp. “Did you pass along my invite to Dad?” 

You felt him subtly shake his head causing your smile to slightly falter. You knew better than to expect the man who gifted you half of his genes to show up—a workaholic, absentee of a father whose love language was to deposit checks to your bank account from his fattened pockets as a lawyer for the rich. It was the cause of your parents’ separation when you were five years old. The matriarch tired from taking up the mantle as both the paternal and maternal figure for both you and your brother. Your mother exhausted from repeatedly believing broken promises uttered to herself and to her babies.

Having seen first hand how each lie wrapped as an oath chipped a piece of the loving and bright woman who gave birth to you and your brother, you vowed to never let that happen to you. It was a cautionary tale engrained in your mind. A fable—a curse really and in hindsight, you should have seen the markings of history repeating itself.

“Now, where is your nerdy pipe cleaner of a boyfriend?” He asked as he scanned around the vicinity for a sight of Spencer.

You shrugged, genuinely alright with your FBI agent of a boyfriend missing this milestone in your life. “Duty called. But that’s okay, we’ll celebrate when he gets back.” 

A pair of eyes, similar to yours, inquisitively studied you as if making sure there was no hidden hurt behind those words uttered. “If you say so,” he stated, turning to your mother who was smiling at the both of you—her greatest treasures. “Mom, let’s get out of here. I had John prep the kitchen for a feast.” 

You and your mom chattered excitedly at the passenger back seat as Trevor backed the four-door navy sedan out of the parking and drove off to his restaurant for the promised lunch graduation.

———

It was well into the night as you were settling in bed when the tell-tale signs of the main door being unlocked echoed through the dark green walls of his apartment. 

“Spence?” You called out, letting him know that you were there instead of in your own apartment, 30 minutes away. 

More shuffling was heard before the object of your love and affection rounded the bedroom door with a set of his own flowers on hand. He breathed out your name in reverence as he went for a kiss, pleased that he had still caught you awake.

“Congratulations, my love,” he smiled as he pulled away from your soft lips. “These are for you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” 

You smiled back, gladly accepting his apologies and flowers. “It’s all good, Spence. I know how demanding your job is. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. I told Gideon and Hotch that’ll I’ll be unavailable this weekend. It’s just you and me,” he said as he went in for another kiss, unable to resist any longer. Not long after, his outside clothes and your sleepwear were strewn all around the bedroom floor as both your bodies merged into one and reached a mutual crescendo with your gasps and his groans as the choir. 

***

The second time, you moderately understood.

You noted that the BAU was back in full swing with Gideon being brought back to the saddle after what happened in Boston. As his birthday treat, you both agreed to fly in for the weekend to Vegas to visit his mother at the facility. He never would have gone alone should it not have been for your enthusiasm to come with. You loved talking to Diana about Spencer’s childhood during her good days and you also loved being in her presence still even when she was lost in her teaching past—acting out as a student as you got to hear her lectures about literature. 

The bustling at the airport had you tip toeing up to catch a sight of Spencer, your flight departing in about an hour. It was a late Friday afternoon, travelers were piling in for a weekend trip, and he promised to head straight from the Bureau to the airport to meet you by the entrance. Your head swiveled from left to right, biting your lip as the minutes ticked by with no sign of your boyfriend running towards you.

The phone in your jean pocket rang and your heart slightly dropped at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey pretty boy,” you greeted, naively wishing that this phone call wasn’t a bearer of bad news. “Are you almost at the airport?” 

There were muffled voices heard in the background. “Uhm—actually—”

You sighed, understanding what he wanted to say. “There’s a case,” you stated as a matter of fact. “It’s alright, Spence. I’ll tell your mom something popped up. No worries.” 

“You—you don’t have to go alone. We can always reschedule,” he suggested, the timber of his voice going up an octave as if he was in a panic at the idea of disappointing you.

“You and I both know Diana’s excited about this trip,” you chuckled as you recalled how her doctor had described his mother’s face lighting up every time she was reminded of the visit. “I’ll go and spend some time with her. Maybe even get her to tell me more embarrassing childhood stories about her perfect boy.”

He lightly laughed at your joke to ease the tension and remorse he was feeling. “I could have told you all of it if you just asked.”

“Well, does it include pictures of you too?” You teased as you were checking in at the counter.

There was a stern voice calling for his name in the background, it was Hotch, you silently guessed. 

“Listen, I have to go. The team is about to give the profile,” he rushed out to inform you. “I’ll see you when we both get back. I love you.” 

The call ended without so much of a chance for you to say it back.

As the plane got ready to take off, your mood continued to further dampen. He promised to go—to you and to his own mother via the phone. An ivy seed of doubt was planted in your mind. Did he try to excuse himself from the case to his boss as some sort of birthday gift? It really didn’t work that way, you knew, with how of a high demand his job is but still, you wondered if his team was informed about the plans for this weekend or were they purposely kept out of the loop. That notion wouldn’t surprise you at the slightest, thinking back. The profilers weren’t even aware of his mother’s state and condition. Hell, they didn’t even know that you existed, a girlfriend of two years, until well into his first year at the BAU. 

Deep down you grasped why he keeps Diana a secret. You were aware of the shame and embarrassment he felt for himself, having had to have her institutionalized by the time he reached the age of eighteen. You got that, didn’t mean you understood it but nonetheless, you respected his decision and was even proud of him for reaching out for professional help no matter how much he viewed that action of his cowardly. But what you weren’t really privy to was really why your relationship was kept in the dark. It could have saved him from Morgan’s incessant ribbing of his inability to pick up women.

During one night where your insecurities got the best of you, you asked in a small voice if he was ashamed of the relationship. He vehemently denied it, repeatedly saying that he just wanted to have a secret solace—a happy home to return to that was untouched by the worst human terrors that he encounters on the daily. That was what you were, he explained, a sunlit luscious reprieve filled with flowers and laughter where he could rest his weary bones from the ravaging, dark waves. His own piece of heaven here on earth. He then kissed your fears away that night, hugged you tight into his chest—the vibrations from his humming lulling you to slumber.

———

“I always knew it would take a special girl to understand my special boy,” Diana mused out loud as you plated a slice of cake for her. 

You blushed, sitting down beside her with your own. “He’s perfect. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” 

She affectionately combed through your hair, similar to how her son would. “Thank you. For visiting and being understanding of his erratic schedule.”

“It’s no problem at all, Diana. I love him, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” You stated as the ivy seed of doubt sprouted in your mind—did you really? Did you really understand what you were getting into?

***

The third time, you still tried to understand.

There you were surrounded by the purest celebration of love and matrimony, sans your long-haired, sweater vest wearing plus one. Your brother was getting married to the love of his life, vowing himself to be with her for better, for worse and your other half was in another state catching criminals. Fiddling with the diamond engagement ring adorning your finger, you recalled how you ended up alone, dateless, in this joyous occasion. 

You RSVP’ed with a date when the invitation arrived four months ago. Your brother even calling in to make sure that he, your well-celebrated FBI fiancée, will be able to attend a month before the wedding. You internally scoffed at his repeated checking but in retrospect, maybe he saw the end well before you did. You promised to him, as Spencer did to you, that he’ll be available to watch the union and to save all the slow dances with him. But the day before the wedding, the phone rang for a case in Dallas and you knew what it meant. Without so much of a fight, you kissed him goodbye by the door of his now shared apartment and let the dreary silence enveloped you as you think of how to inform your brother of the new change without hearing the pity and patronization in his voice. 

Nursing a glass of red wine, you watched your brother dance with his newly wedded wife and in your peripheral, you spotted your mother approaching you at the table. 

“Now why are you being such a sourpuss during this festive event?” She chimed out as she pulled a chair beside you. “You should be out there, dancing and getting to know our new extended family.” 

You shrugged, unsure on what to say. She was right, of course. All the guests were enjoying themselves and basking in the warm, infectious glow of the happy couple but you didn’t have the courage in you to mask the despondent emotions inside of you.

Your mother sighed and took your left hand in hers. “You know, when your dad and I were going through the proceedings of the divorce, I had moments when I wanted to back out from it. I loved your father, still holds a piece of my heart till this day, and I thought the small moments of happiness when he was around would be enough to tied me through the days when he wasn’t. I thought those times and our love for you kids were sufficient to keep our love from wilting. If I poured out affection and devotion to the home we once built, it wouldn’t crumble surely. But you know what I forgot—”

You turned to face her somber eyes, looking into yours as if searching for something that seemed to no longer be there. 

“—I forgot to take care of myself. I gave a pieces of me away so willing and so many times that when I reached the end of the marriage, I no longer knew who I was. Where the piece of me started and where it ended. You’re withering, my flower. The vibrant life that I once longed to protect in your eyes is slowly dying. I don’t want you to reach the finish line and not know how you got up there. How you ended up giving all yourself away with not a flower bud left to blossom just for you.” 

You felt your hackles rise to defend the relationship. In hindsight, this was you denying the truth that was staring you right in the face. “It’s not like that with Spencer, Mom. It’s just—the job is hectic and it’s been his forever dream. He had finally started to gain his footing when Gideon and Elle left and then the kidnapping happened and that pushed his progress back a bit. But he’s getting there now. We’re stabilizing and we had a discussion—there’s less broken promises. It’s just that this recent case in Dallas was urgent and they needed the team to solve crime. I don’t want to take him away from the country and the people who needs his help and from his dream of solving crimes. I love him, Mom, in all of his entirety and he deserves all the respect and understanding from me as his partner.” 

She squeezed the hand in hers—the left hand adorning the ring, the material manifestation of his vow to you that you had happily accepted. “I‘ve grown fond of Spencer. I see him as another son of mine but darling, sometimes the love you feel for each other is not enough. A relationship takes continuous work—a task that both individuals must pull in the effort and prioritize. Just think about it,” she stated as she stood up. “Now, no more of this depressing talk and this serious energy from you. Go around, dance with your brother, and enjoy.” 

You mustered up a smile as you proceeded to do just what you were told until your feet were sore from all the dancing. But no matter the joyous occasion, it didn’t stop the realization in the form of ivy from taking roots and slowly covering all corners of your mind. 

***

And the final time, you could no longer understand.

The grandfather clock stationed at the corner of the dimly lit apartment struck at two. Your figure was still dressed in your purple fitted dress as you waited for your soon-to-be other half to walk through the door. It was another night of getting your hopes up and broken promises and you were no longer sure how much you could take before the love you held in your heart festers and turns into resentment. 

You promised yourself you’d never be in a situation that you had seen your mother once be in. You became the careful daughter of a careless man who gave little to no effort to cherish the love a woman had freely given to him. You thought with all your cautiousness and logical thinking, the mistakes of the mother would never be repeated. That was naive thinking—you realized now. By actively being aware of the past, you’d forgotten to look ahead and fell deep into the pitfalls of doing the same as your mother did.

Spencer once mentioned that there was a high divorce rate in his line of duty. How he worried and vowed that you both will never join that rate. And that was a promise he’ll be able to keep, you scoffed to yourself, as you spun the ring on the table.

Another shared piece of information floated to the forefront of your mind. How Haley had recently served Hotch, his unit chief divorce papers. You’ve grown close with her over the years, being the only two constant partners to someone working in the BAU. You’ve seen first hand all the missed milestones in Haley’s and Jack’s life as her husband flew around the country with the cavalry, saving the innocent one case at a time. Never taking the time to realize that the once solid foundation of their marriage was crumbling down with every flight he took. Similar to what was happening in the doctor’s own home. 

A set of keys unlatched the mahogany door and a fresh batch of florals were the first that entered through, followed by Spencer looking sheepish as he noted your presence by the sofa. “Angel, I’m so sorry I missed your promotion dinner.” 

Silence greeted him as he stumbled to get to where you were. “Carnations for you.” 

Tears started to form under your eyes. You didn’t want to break but the reality of your decision was setting in. You wanted to falter, to change your mind, to give him another chance but you knew you couldn’t. You’ve given too much of your understanding away and you doubted you have any more to give to this beautiful man who once promised to make you his top priority. 

“I can’t accept them, Spencer.” 

His eyebrows furrowed and his body tensing as if sensing the finality behind your words. “Why not? They’re your favorite.” 

“They are but—” you took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “—I think we should stop.” 

“W-what? No. No, please,” he stammered out as his own set of tears started flooding his eyes, blurring you from his vision. “I’m sorry I missed the dinner. I’ll make it up to you—I promise just—”

The dam of your emotions broke causing you to freely sob out all the sadness and anger that had collected in your heart. “I’m tired, Spencer. You can’t promise anything to me anymore. You’ve broken so many promises that you’ll only end up breaking them again.” 

He took your hands into his, letting the bouquet fall crushed on the hardwood floor, recognizing the ring missing in your finger. “This time, this time it’ll be different. Please, don’t leave me.” 

“The country needs you, the BAU needs you. But I need you too, Spencer. I love you, I really do but I can’t be your third priority anymore. I don’t deserve that—don’t I deserve to come first before the country and the job?” 

He tightened his hold on your hands as if afraid that you were slipping through his fingers, denying the reality that you already had. “I love you so much. I don’t want to live without you by my side. Tell me how to fix this. Do you want me to leave the BAU? I’ll—I’ll do it, just stay with me, please.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave the FBI. Your ambition and integrity is one of the facets that I loved about you and you might end up resenting me down the line if you leave now. It’s not yet your time to leave the BAU, you and I both know that,” you pulled your hands away and slid the ring in front of him. “This belongs to you, I’m giving it back.” 

His shoulder caved in on itself, the weight of it all too much for him to carry. “I don’t want this to be our end. I just don’t.” 

“I don’t want this too, but I need to,” you whispered as your hand reached out to push shoulder length hair out of the way. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe in the future we’d meet again and continue the pages of our love story but for now, I have to do this Spencer. I can’t keep giving a piece of me every time your top priority needs you, I’ll end up hating you if I stay.” 

You leaned in for one final kiss. A salty, tear filled kiss of death to a future you had once envisioned with the beautiful boy before you. A white picket fence with children laughing at the backyard—the American dream fading into nothing as you start to pull away.

“Goodbye for now, Spencer.”

He stared at all the curves and dips in your face one last time as if etching every detail into his already perfect memory.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

[silverthehedgehogcharacteristics]

Silver the Hedgehog Key Characteristics

Strong Sense of Justice: Silver is a righteous hedgehog of justice that is outraged by suffering and devastation. Seeks to settle scores(Sonic Forces, IDW Sonic) to get back for those that have been wronged and make evildoers pay for what they’ve done. Is very confrontational because of this as he has zero tolerance for injustices or things like breaking promises and will quickly take on anyone or anything to right wrongs and help those in need, however “His wish is to maintain peace, not to eradicate evil”(Sonic Channel). Silver wants to become a hero because it means being someone that can “protect smiles”(Sonic & Silver).

Optimism: Silver is an optimist and embodies hope just as Sonic embodies freedom. He always looks to a brighter outcome, does not give into despair no matter how dire the situation and believes “There’s always hope as long as you don’t give it up”(JP Sonic Forces quote). Inspires hope in others during dark times(Sonic 06 last episode, Sonic Forces, helping Elise through her performance anxiety in Otherworld Comedy) and spreads happiness during peaceful times as he is said to engage in Cheerful Activities after the historical change in 06(Sonic & Silver). If he is down it does not take much to bring him back up(Sonic Rivals 2). Silver has a positive way of life that inspires people and makes them want to cheer him on(Sonic Channel).

Kindness: Silver is an Altruist with a strong desire to help others and is always thinking of someone else’s happiness rather than his own(Sonic & Silver). Silver wants to “protect smiles” and make people happy because he grew up in a world filled with despair. His altruism is the source of his mission and the only thing that can make him break from it as he can’t say no to a sad face or ignore those in need. Silver actively does things like serving apple slices(Wallpaper Comedy 2022) and giving gifts as Santa(Sonic Pict) because his greatest joy is seeing smiles. Silver put the spirit of the pilot Renzo to rest by pretending to be an airplane for him in Town Mission 4. Silver is selfless and acts for others, he has no regard for his own safety and is willing to sacrifice himself without even thinking(Sonic Comic Pumpkin Trigger). When Eggman attacks in Sonic Comic Act Final Stage, Silver instantly acts to shield everyone.

Honest: Silver is a pure and genuine person that is very Forthright, Straightforward and Honest to a fault to the point of being blunt. He can’t tell a lie, wears his heart on his sleeve and has an “Honest, unpretentious and kind demeanor”(Sonic Channel Staff Column). Silver is very humble and does not think of himself as a hero(Sonic & Silver). Silver is an Enhancer(someone that is determined and simple, never lies, hides nothing, is straightforward in their actions and thinking, whose words and actions are often dominated by their feelings and is very focused on their goals),

Brash: Silver has a brash and flippant personality that is even more brash than Sonic’s(even Sonic says Silver has an attitude in Sonic Rivals). Silver is so straightforward and honest that he is also rude and blunt. He has no filter and will call you an idiot to your face if he thinks you’re an idiot and is so direct that he can often ignore manners and social customs(06 NPC dialogue, Sonic Rivals series). Silver is very snappy, abrasive and sarcastic, being quick to insult or sneer at any opposition(06, Rivals series, Riders Zero Gravity, Olympic Games, Eggman’s theme park in Colors DS). Has a confident, somewhat smug attitude about his abilities and is very Competitive(almost fights Blaze when they start one-upping each other over who could deal with Orbot and Cubot on their own in Colors DS). Silver is said to have Mischievous Side(Sonic Channel Commemorative Illustration series). Silver is Headstrong(almost fights Blaze when she treats him like an amateur in Otherworld Comedy) and can be quick to start fights for both serious and petty reasons(Colors DS, Rivals series, Jet and Bowser Jr in Mario and Sonic, Infinite in Forces). Silver is very ill-mannered in general which is more apparent in Japanese where he has various informal rude mannerisms including using “Ore”(informal masculine “I”), “Anta”(Impolite “you��) that signifies he speaks bluntly, pointing directly at people he speaks to(confrontational gesture) and crossing his legs while sitting(roughly the Japanese equivalent to putting your feet on a table). Silver is rash and impolite in contrast to Future Trunks. Silver’s blunt rudeness, honesty and overall traits are the complete opposite of Eggman Nega’s over-politeness, deception and overall traits. Despite this however Silver is still outgoing and approachable.

Naive: Silver has a black and white perspective and is innocent in his ideals. Expects people to believe him when he says he’s from the future or explains outlandish situations simply because he knows them to be true(Which causes people to not believe him). Sometimes takes things literally and doesn’t understand jokes but has an angry “What’s so funny” attitude when he doesn’t understand things(Says “Yes, why?” when Espio asks “you want me to believe that?” in Sonic Rivals 2 and “What’s so funny” when he didn’t understand people what people were laughing at in Otherworld Comedy). Silver is young and immature according to Shun Nakamura.

Emotional: Emotionally immature, unregulated and unfiltered. Sometimes Silver tends to deal with things too head-on because of the strength of his feelings, or he tends to take everything on himself, which can make him reckless and rash/impulsive(In the Japanese version of 06 Blaze describes him as running wild rather than insecure). Short-tempered, easily angered and has a wrathful temper like Blaze. Gets indignant when people don’t listen to him(Sonic Channel) and punches things when he is frustrated(06, Mario & Sonic series). Feels joy and rage loudly but sadness and contemplation quietly. Silver is generally High-Spirited, puts his all into what he gets invested in(I’m giving this everything I’ve got!). Can get carried away or needs to be calmed down/held back when he gets riled up. Silver is hot-blooded and rash while Sonic and Shadow are calm and cool(Sonic & Silver Sonic Channel story).

Peace: Silver lives and fights for World Peace. Silver is devoted to peace because he hails from a hellish ruined future that was filled with darkness, devastation and suffering. Silver has great empathy for the state of both people and environments so devastation saddens and upsets him while beauty and prosperity leaves him breathless. Blue Skies and Smiles are especially important to him, blue skies make him feel at peace, and he can’t help but smile when seeing smiling faces. The quills on Silver’s head are patterned in the shape of a Japanese Red Maple Leaf which represents peace and prosperity.

Sentimental: Silver is also very Sentimental. He finds great beauty in nature and serenely appreciates both the wonders of the world and the little things that most people take for granted. Silver enjoys sightseeing and going on journeys(Sonic Colors DS, Olympic Games, Sonic Pict) because of this. Silver relaxes and chats with his friends during downtime(Sonic & Silver). Silver has a somewhat wide-eyed curiosity and likes seeing cool and interesting things(“Interesting”). Silver feels serene and at peace when seeing nature, happiness and prosperity. This side of him ties into his peace themes due to his ability to appreciate beauty and serenity which the Momiji/Japanese Red Maple also represents.

Fighter: Fought and struggled for half his lifetime(possibly since he was Cream’s age) through the disaster future(Sonic & Silver). Silver hails from an extremely hostile environment filled with darkness, large Iblis enemies and constant disasters. He has high aggression because of this and has very intense determined expressions and aggressive body language with constant fists even during competitions or just tasks he's focused on. Silver has angular sharp pointed eyes like Sonic’s other rivals which represent intensity and danger in character design. Shadow describes Silver as a Fighter in Team Sonic Racing. Silver is extremely powerful being able to evenly physically fight Sonic and Shadow to a standstill in 06 and the Rivals series, and repeatedly destroy both the gigantic Iblis and small armies by himself in 06 and Sonic Pict. Silver both Enjoys Fighting and has an Instant fight response when surprised in Sonic Generations. Silver “sometimes calls forth great power without mercy”(Sonic Channel).

Determination: Silver has relentless Determination that allowed him to fight through the apocalyptic future. Doesn’t give up easily(got exact hedgehog apple slices after 40 tries). Has no regard for pain/massive pain tolerance(Kept fighting undeterred after being kicked in the head by Shadow and skipped across the street like a rock by Sonic in Generations and endures excruciating "pain beyond description” caused by his powers in Sonic & Silver). Silver is bold and undeterred by any threat(says “We can take them all on!” when facing Eggman, Knuckles and Rouge in Rivals 2 and “I’ll just destroy him everywhere at once” when facing Solaris in Sonic 06) as he fought against disasters and large Iblis monsters in dark dangerous environments from a very young age and throws himself at every enemy from Iblis to Infinite without hesitation, even if they are stronger than him.

Straight-to-the-point mentality, hates distractions and petty details(Doesn’t care what the plan is called, only that it works in Forces). This can make him impatient towards things that get in his way or waste time. Silver is Goal Focused(even during things like competitions he says the Jade Ghost Wisp is the only item he likes because it lets him disappear and focus on racing in the Team Vector interview). Takes things much more seriously than Sonic and sometimes gets mad at Sonic for not taking things seriously or messing around(JP TSR, Sonic 4 Panel Manga). 

Silver is very direct and Proactive as he spent most of his life trying to defeat Iblis and find out how his future came to ruin when no one could tell him how and actively investigated Dodon Pa and Eggman in Team Sonic Racing.

Silver is pragmatic and somewhat ruthless. Opens both his fights with Sonic in 06 by trying to sneak attack and snipe Sonic with psychic energy balls. Has fought dirty by playing possum to hit Sonic in 06, snuck past Soleanna guards to get to Radical Train in 06. Mugs Tails in Sonic Rivals 2(he’s okay with stealing), has no qualms with fighting kids like Tails or Bowser Jr. Leaves his enemies to die even if they beg for life(Sonic Rivals 2/IDW Sonic). Has the “get-it-done” mindset of Future Trunks and will do whatever it takes to save the future.

Challenger: Enjoys challenges and ways to test himself(Sonic Colors DS, Mario & Sonic Series). Makes steady efforts to train and improve offscreen(Sonic Channel Comedy). Silver is a very skilled person that takes offense to being treated like an amateur(Otherworld Comedy) and is able to do various jobs around Soleanna(06 Town Missions), become a delivery boy(Sonic Pict), a butler, a top class ice skater, and a genius skating coach(Sonic Channel) and has sharp shooting among the best in Soleanna’s 1500 year history. One of his catchphrases is “I’ll take you on”. 

Intuitive: Silver sometimes deduces things that other people do not and every central game role Silver has from 06 to TSR is about him searching for truth and he has successfully figured out the schemes of Eggman and Eggman Nega before anyone else each time. Silver can be very sharp, perceptive and crafty; he figures out Eggman Nega’s disguises by noticing small details in his mannerisms in Sonic Rivals, intuits Blaze trying to control her great power when seeing it for the first time in Sonic Channel and changes his fight with Sonic into a race to collect Chao instead to advance his mission in Sonic Rivals 2.

Often shown/implied to like Apples(he ate apple flavored calorie bar rations in the 06 Iblis future according to Sonic Channel Sonic Pict) suggesting they are his favorite food. Apples also symbolize sweetness, beauty, and hope for prosperity in Japanese and Jewish culture.

Lives in the good future the same way Blaze lives in the Sol Dimension when not in Sonic’s time(spends most of his time there as he doesn’t get to see Sonic very often according to Team Sonic Racing). Also implied to live in Soleanna(He was originally going to be named Venice simply because he lived there, implied to live there in Sonic & Silver and Otherworld Comedy Act 4 Sonic Channel stories).

[anantaru]

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ synopsis. reminiscing about the start of your relationship // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡ cw. mentions of guns, tw guns, fluff & established relationship, a/n. this is just a random idea that came to me, not proofread, gn! reader ♡

the unfolding of a relationship can truly be something magical.

with a warm contentment, you settle yourself against boothill's chest as you indulge the drifting thoughts in your mind, humming lightly into your chest as you felt a large palm cradle your hip.

you cannot lie to yourself, can you? but you're rather nostalgic about the early stages of your relationship with your boyfriend and how the two of you got to know each other.

at that, you realise it's a fun story, a great one even.

to boothill, you were the first person he's had a genuine interest in having a relationship with, and remembering how he thought he should tackle it— well, it was almost tragic, in a humorous way.

people who saw him as a dangerous individual weren't necessarily new to him. he'd be naive believing that he wouldn't be scary to look at.

the man understood that his risky occupation, aside from his outside demeanor could come across as unsafe and frightening to the outside spectator.

what boothill didn't realise, however, was that no matter how hard you try, you cannot hide yourself.

you see, boothill doesn't lie— although frankly, he did try to make himself seem a little less intense to you. especially on your first dates.

it all began with his job and how it doesn't fit with your usual cookie cutter profession. in order to appear a lot softer and less frightening to you, he wasn't the most honest about what he's been doing for a living, nor did he actually plan to reveal it to you right away.

reflecting back on it, his cheeks instantly burn of embarrassment— the sheer confidence he must've experienced when he believed, for a single second, that he could be able to claim and sell the lie of him having a bakery would actually fool you in the slightest bit.

quoting his exact type of wording; a renowned bakery owner with a strong liking towards lemon cake.

well, perhaps you bringing it up from time to time and teasing him with it was a consequence of his own actions now. yet, his sweet sense of humor made you fall in love with him the most.

it's adorable, he is, yet it ended up being slightly dangerous— with such words shrouded in your mind, you're thinking back at one specific moment where you accidentally found one of hid guns.

naturally, he's tried to downplay it immediately, hands turning sweaty as he couldn't keep eye contact with you while working himself through a story of claiming that, well, it's not a real one silly, see? but a fake one, okay? that he's been using for an upcoming, top secret, performance he's been planning for a while now.

for his bakery. you know.

little did he realize you accidentally pulled the trigger right when you were about to hand over the weapon and shot a bullet through the wall, right into the living room— you were fortunate enough that the knock back didn't hurt your shoulder too much, it stung a little, yes, but you were able to recover from the shock quickly.

yeah, it's safe to assume that this was a clear awakening to boothill, that he most likely needs to let you in on a couple of silly, little details about his life.

well now at least, after being in a loving relationship for a good couple of years already, you tilt your face and prop yourself up by your chin as your boyfriend shakes his head the moment you mention it to him again, "don't remind me of that," he begins to panic, a big and embarrassing smile plastering across his mouth as his heart drops to the pit of his stomach, "hey! we promised not to talk about this again,"

he's shrouded with a sudden feeling of helplessness, scratching the back of his neck before you slant yourself closer with an airy laugh brushing against his lips, "but it's our origin story," you smile and hoist your body up so you could be on his eye level.

you continue to affirm, knowing it makes your boyfriend weak in the knees, "and you're so sweet when you're embarrassed," before applying a sultry kiss on his cheek, breath holding, mind numbing, as boothill quirks up the sides of his mouth softly at your plush lips touching him.

truly, how beautiful it was that no matter what, he knows that you are one and if anything, a story such as yours only brought one closer.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[swetblom]

⟡ ◌ .ﾟㅤ‪ ∿ FOREVER DAYDREAMING OF . . 𑁯੭ BRIAN MOSER & ANGEL! READER ˚ . 𔒌 ⊹ ۫

❜ ׄ 𓏲 au work content, female! readers race not specified, dark content ( none done to reader — ice truck killer actives ), some nsfw content.

BRIAN MOSER & ANGEL! READER who are wall-to-wall neighbors in their building. they’ve never spoken to one another longer than 5 minutes and only exchanged a couple sweet smiles when crossing paths going to their apartments. BRIAN MOSER who doesn’t let the sweet woman go unnoticed when she’s near. noting that she always gives him the most genuine farewells he’s heard from a stranger and how soft her features are before seemly forgetting about her after entering his apartment. while . . ANGEL! READER thinks “on my god, he’s a cutie” every time he sees him. adores how his hair and eyes are nearly the same deep brown and never misses an opportunity to send a short wave his way.

BRIAN MOSER & ANGEL! READER who only began to really speak to one another because brian continuously makes a lot of noise in his apartment interpreting her sleep most nights. and every time because she’s too sweet to be upset, she leads with a gentle “sorry to interrupt” and “know m’ bothering you again but . .” when asking him about turning it down a bit.

he fakes his sincerity and doesn’t bother to change his actions the first couple times she asked, keeping in mind she never really asks exactly what he’s doing unlike all the other neighbors who demand answers. until one night she comes to his door with sleepy features and a soft pout. “m’ sorry to bother you again but could you just stop for a little bit? so i can at least get into the first stage then you can continue, i swear.” he enjoys her. how she negotiates instead of out right demanding him. how she assumes the best of him, believes he’ll listen if she asks nicely enough. and for the first time, he actually quiets down.

when she comes to thank him the next morning with full eyes and asking his name he found himself giving her his real one, “brian but call me rudy” while holding out his hand. she squints at him unsure as she take his hand, “where did rudy come from?” unknown to her, he lies with a soft smile on his face, “nickname from when i was a kid.” but she believes it.

BRIAN MOSER & ANGEL! READER who’s relationship dynamic is the perfect twist of epic dreams and nightmares. the epic dreams being full of soft, deep kisses like her making him feel as though he doesn’t have to fake who he is, him giving her sweet presents with small, red, bows tied on each one or her actual gaining the nickname angel by him when he’s teasing her about something. his voice soft and low as he looks at her with dark, dreamy eyes, “come on, angel.”

while the nightmares run deep, they hold their relationship together the most because his urges prompt him to lie, he doesn’t tell her to hide them but to keep her exactly where he wants her: in his arms. when the moon is full, he brings women to his apartment and looks at them as though they’re his world until the door is shut and they have their guard down. if they get too loud when he’s strangling them he covers their mouths and whispers, “sh sh. don’t want to wake her”. keeping her in mind even in the midst of his ugres. if she comes over and hears or sees something he’s quick to make up an excuse that she’s quick to believe because he hasn’t made her believe other wise. “you promise?” he gives both her eyes the perfect amount of affection, shifting from one to the other as he swears, “promise, angel.”

jealous! brian * sweet surprise little moments

© 2025 swetblom — don’t try to imitate or use my work to your benefit.

asks are open for these two! read guidelines before submitting or i’ll just delete you’re ask lol.

— to see visuals, asks or answered questions about them, click the first tags!

[berfgrimm]

sharp dressed man | choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x reader

pairing: choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x f!reader

warnings: smut, oral, cheating, deepthroating, dirty talk, friends to lovers

note: this is a request that i promise started out as white haired Seunghyun. then i remembered this performance existed and i panicked. i’m so sorry but I hope you enjoy!!

———————

You have to know what Seunghyun tastes like. The thought is stuck in your brain like it’s a broken record, repeating over and over. You shouldn’t think about it. You’re both seeing other people, albeit very casually, and on top of that, you’ve been friends for years. Still, the loop plays in your head because of one stupid fucking gesture.

Your friends invited you to their performance on Inkigayo, and of course you accepted the invite; you loved to see them on stage, in their element. What you didn’t expect, however, was to watch Seunghyun grab a handful of his crotch mid-performance. A handful. The crowd screamed and you would have too if you didn’t feel like you were going to pass out.

But why? Who cares that Seunghyun grabbed himself? Why should it matter to you? If anyone asked it definitely didn’t matter to you, and you did not think about it for the rest of the evening. But now you find yourself alone in a dressing room with Seunghyun, and it’s the only thing on your mind. His bandmates had decided to get dinner after the performance, but Seunghyun stayed behind; you opted to stay with him, to see if you can will yourself to stop feeling like this. After twenty minutes of near silence, Seunghyun finally speaks.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you look at him quickly. He has a look of genuine concern and it’s the first time you become aware of how you may be presenting yourself in that moment. Your body feels tense and your face tight, having been more focused on your thoughts than your appearance.

“Uh, yeah, I’m cool,” you reply, relaxing your shoulders and straightening out your back. “Sorry.”

“You’ve been acting strange all night,” he pushes. “You weren’t like this before the performance. Did you think that it was bad?”

“What? No, not at all!” You turn to face him, pulling one of your legs up onto the sofa with you. “I love watching you guys perform,” you continue. “I have no complaints.” The last part was a lie; if you were in the right state of mind, you’d tell him off for making you feel even a fraction of what you’re feeling right now.

“I can tell something is off about you,” he insists. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“I’m fine,” you say, with a smile. You realize that you have your hand resting on his thigh, and have no idea when you placed it there. “Fuck, sorry,” you say, retracting your hand as if it was on fire. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”

“Hey,” he laughs, turning to you and grabbing both of your shoulders. “Calm down. You look like you’re—”

You kiss him. Fuck, why did you kiss him? You pull away almost as quickly as you kiss him, and you can’t bring yourself to look in his eyes. You feel your heart pounding and your eyes water, panic setting it.

“Fuck, I am so fucking sorry, Seunghyun,” you say, shaking your head looking down at your lap. “I don’t…I don’t know why I did that. I mean, I know why, but I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. I have no idea what came over me. You were out there on stage and you touched yourself like that — I don’t know! I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Fuck, I’m sorry.” You ramble so much, you don’t give him the opportunity to say anything in response, but his hands still hold onto your shoulders.

“You…” Seunghyun begins to speak but he trails off for a moment, and you can hear him pull in a slow breath. “I touched myself on stage, so you kissed me?”

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat, your skin flushing and the weight of his hands now becoming unbearable. You shove his hands off of you and stand from the sofa, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. “My mind started to just…wander,” you continue, pacing back and forth as you still refuse to look at him. “I don’t know why; I can’t explain it. I watched you touch yourself like that, and I wanted to know…what you would feel like, and what you would taste like. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. If I could not feel like this, I would. Trust me. I don’t like to feel out of control like this. Now, all I keep thinking is how I want you to talk dirty to me, like you could say whatever you want, I wouldn’t care. I need it to be nasty. I shouldn’t…fuck, I shouldn’t have said that either.”

You can’t stop yourself from rambling, not until you finally lay eyes on Seunghyun. He still sits on the sofa like he was before, his eyebrows furrowed — he’s confused. You pull in a deep breath, letting it out slowly to try to stop yourself from shaking, which is a new development. You’d hoped that if you said everything you were feeling out loud, then you’d realize how it sounded and could just get over it, but now it’s worse. You feel like you’re going insane, completely embarrassed; you have to get out of this room before you do something stupid.

“I’m going to leave,” you say, taking a few hurried steps towards the door, but you feel Seunghyun lean to catch your wrist, stopping you. When you look at him, for a moment, he looks as torn as you feel, his eyes studying your face for something but then his expression changes.

“Lock the door,” he instructs. “Then get on your knees.”

All of the blood feels like it rushes between your legs, and you could realistically pass out. You lock the door quickly and move around to the front of the sofa to kneel down in front of Seunghyun parted knees. You’d never noticed how slender his fingers are but now as his hands unfasten his belt, you can’t help but pay attention. He keeps his eyes on you as he unbuttons his pants and drags the zipper down, untucking his shirt in the process. Seunghyun pushes the waist of his pants down enough so slip his other hand inside of his briefs so he can wrap his fingers around himself.

“You know that I’ve been seeing someone,” he begins, pulling his hardening length from the confines of his tight pants. “But you don’t care about that? You don’t care that I’ve been sleeping with someone else, do you?” He’s not really asking, but is almost degrading you for wanting to blow someone who’s taken. It shouldn’t be hot, but you love how his voice sounds.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, your eyes trained on his hand that slowly strokes his cock.

“Haven’t you been sleeping with someone, too?” Seunghyun continues, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a small smirk. “Is he not taking care of you? Is that why you’re crawling to me like this?”

“I can’t…” You shake your head, unable to come up with any response that will be remotely reasonable.

“This is all you can think about?” Seunghyun nods his head towards his lap, and you immediately nod. Of course he smirks at your response — why wouldn't he be amused when you’re this pathetic?

Seunghyun keeps stroking over himself, making sure you keep your eyes on either his erection or his face. You can actually feel how wet you are and your first instinct is to touch yourself but that’s not really what you need. All you want is to feel him in your mouth, so maybe if you tell him that, along with some other stuff…

“Fuck, I can’t wait to taste it,” you mutter, and you swear you can see Seunghyun falter just a little, his hand stuttering in one of his strokes. That’s when he stops, beckoning you over with a crook of his fingers; you don’t think twice, inching forward until you’re between his spread knees. You need to get a better view, a better way to get a grip on him.

The tremble in your hands is noticeable as you reach towards the waist of his pants. Your fingers curl around the fabric near his hips, catching the elastic of his briefs as well and tugging; Seunghyun lifts his hips enough to help you pull the material down to his thighs.

You start with his balls, massaging them gently for a moment before you wrap your free hand around him, near the base so you’re able to angle him just a bit. You drag your tongue from the base all the way to the head of his cock, the tip of your tongue taking special care to tease the dip where his shaft meets his head. He sighs, spreading his knees just a little wider to welcome you in.

Your tongue swirls around the head of his member, before you spit over him carefully so you can get him slick. You stroke slowly at first, your hand enveloping every inch as your other hand sets on his thigh. You flick your tongue over him to get a taste of his precum and already you feel yourself desperate to go faster to get to taste even more. You take his tip into your mouth, sucking on his gently, your hand shifting to massage his balls softly again.

“Fuck,” Seunghyun mumbles, so quietly, you almost miss it. You lift your gaze to meet his, blinking as innocently as you can manage while you take him just a little deeper into your mouth. His gaze is unflinching, focused on the way his cock enters your lips.

Your hand moves higher now, wrapping around the base of his shaft again and slowly stroking to meet what you don’t take into your mouth. It feels so good to have him in your mouth, listening to the way his breathing changes as you quicken your pace just a little — so you whine.

“Is this turning you on that much?” Seunghyun asks, his hand cupping your jaw to lift your head up, causing him to drop from your mouth. Your hand picks up the slack, stroking him fully at the same pace but adding in a small twist with each pump. “You were moaning on my cock,” he says, his thumb rubbing over your lips. “You didn’t even realize it. You’re strung out on a little bit of precum, and you’re hungry for more, hm?”

“I love giving head,” you say, slightly breathless as you gently bite the tip of his thumb. He smirks, pressing his thumb between your lips and past your teeth; you keep your eyes on him as you suck softly on his thumb, all while you still stroke your hand over his length.

“I think you just love having something in your mouth,” Seunghyun suggests, and you grin around his thumb. He pulls the digit out of your lips with a pop, and you tease the head of his cock with your tongue, swirling it around slowly.

“The feeling of a big, hard cock shoved into my throat, making me choke on it,” you press, an animalistic feeling overtaking you. “It’s like a fucking gift. I feel like I’m being rewarded.” You notice the way Seunghyun’s thighs clench when you speak so you keep your eyes on him, slowing down the movement of your hand and instead leaving kisses nearer the head of his cock.

“Is that what you want right now?” he asks, voice low and raspy. “You want me to reward you?” It makes your mouth go dry, the lazy way he speaks, so you swallow hard, which you’re certain he notices.

“If you think I deserve it,” you respond, placing another kiss to the head of his cock, just to tease him. Seunghyun lets out a huff of breath, breaking eye contact when he closes his eyes.

You take the opportunity to slip him back into your mouth, taking him deeper this time. Your mouth begins to do most of the work, bobbing up and down so you can take him deeper into your mouth. Your hand strokes what you aren’t what you’re not prepared to take yet. Seunghyun lets out a small groan, slightly strangled like he’s trying to keep quiet. That’s not what you want; no, you have to hear what you’re doing to him, you need his moans.

Your hand on his thigh shifts between his legs, massaging him again, and you feel him fucking twitch in your mouth. It makes you moan and that does it; he starts to groan deeper in his chest, the sound coming through clearer this time.

“You love giving head, hm?” Seunghyun asks, his voice deeper now but shaky as he tries to stay composed. “Are you already wet just from having me in your mouth like this?”

“Mhm,” you hum around him, and his hips twitch involuntarily, shoving them upwards so he forces himself deeper into your mouth. When you gag around him, Seunghyun takes hold of your head, pulling your head back so he can peer into your eyes. “Fuck, don’t make me stop,” you plead, panting and desperate. “I was just getting to the good part.”

Seunghyun smirks at your words, and brings his hand to your jaw again, slipping his thumb between your lips and past your teeth. You take the hint and open your mouth for him, awaiting your next instruction.

“Wider,” he mutters, and you listen, feeling yourself get wetter from the tone of his voice alone. “Wider. If you want it deep, you’ll have to make room for it.”

God, why does that make you whimper? Was it even sexy, or are you that overwhelmed with desire? That’s for you to figure out later, because now you have to open your mouth as wide as you can for him, sticking your tongue out. Seunghyun places his hand on the back of your neck, near the base of your skull, urging your head down to his cock again.

You take him into your mouth, not quite all the way, but you hold him there for a moment, hollowing out your cheeks. You slowly pull back, applying the same amount of suction as you go until you only have his tip left.

“You were begging for it and now you’re teasing,” Seunghyun chuckles, breathlessly. You pull him out of your mouth and purse your lips to blow cool air over his tip just to watch how he reacts; his thighs tense and he lets out a huff of breath, giving you a warning glare.

As you move to take him into your mouth again, you notice a smirk on Seunghyun’s lips. You bob your head faster, taking him even deeper and deeper, your saliva dripping from your mouth and coating his cock. You didn’t realize that you were salivating like this for him, that you would be this pathetic when you finally got a taste, but right now, you don’t care.

When he starts to reach the back of your throat again, you moan in excitement, gently scraping your teeth over him just a little and he inhales sharply through clenched teeth. He grabs the back of your head, guiding you down to keep taking him all the way to the back of your throat. You gladly relax to be able to accept the intrusion he presents and take him over and over as you bob faster.

“F-fuck,” Seunghyun stutters, gripping your head firmer and pressing.

You take him deeper, the absolute most you can and fuck, you’ve never had anyone push your throat to the limit like this. You struggle to keep him there as long as you can, your gag reflex fighting against your efforts, but you grab his thighs, your fingers clenching as you struggle. Your eyes begin to water, feeling your limits begin to break, your gagging becoming more difficult to ignore.

“Jesus,” Seunghyun moans, still holding your head until finally you can’t take it anymore. You squeeze his thighs to signify for him to let you go, and he does, allowing you to sit up.

You cough, and swallow, trying to calm your reflexes but tears still trickle from your eyes. Seunghyun cups your face with both hands, tilting your head up so he can look into your eyes. He looks unlike you’ve ever seen him, overcome and desperate to find some semblance of composure. You breathe hard, trying to catch your breath but you get lost in his eyes for a moment, finding slow breaths even harder to reach.

“You’re sexy like this,” Seunghyun whispers, wiping some of the tears from your eyes. “On your knees, choking on me.” Your hand grasps his cock, stroking at the same pace as before, but you keep your eyes locked with Seunghyun’s, watching the way that he struggles to keep his gasps and moans quiet.

You sit up higher on your knees now, resting taking his hands and lacing your fingers together so you can pin his hands onto the sofa cushions. You open your mouth and flick your tongue over his tip for one more tease before you take him into your mouth again. This time, you go fast, using only your mouth and the motions of your head; you bob quickly, taking him all the way to the back of your throat each time.

You can tell he’s getting close. The way he can’t keep his legs still, his hips thrusting up to drive himself deeper into your mouth. His moans sound so fucking good, the sexiest noises you think you’ve ever heard. Your panties feel absolutely drenched, your nipples are fucking hard, your head spinning because, fuck, watching your friend fall apart like this for you is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“You want me…fuck, where do you want it?” Seunghyun asks, his voice tight. You don’t answer because you need to keep him in your mouth. “God, you want it down the back of your throat? You want to swallow it?”

You hum an affirmative around him, and his grip on your hands tightens so firmly it hurts. You have to pull one of your hands free so you can touch him again, massaging him to help encourage him along. You feel the way he throbs in your mouth and you salivate even more in anticipation.

You quickly pump your hand over him, still sucking on what you can as Seunghyun’s moans grow louder, deeper, vibrating through his hips and into your mouth. Until he moans your name amongst a string of expletives, as he finally comes. You can’t help but moan because he taste salty, and sweet, and so fucking good. You keep working over him, pumping everything you can from him and swallowing every drop.

“Fuck, oh, my god,” Seunghyun groans, when start to slow to a stop. You pull your mouth from him, licking your lips as you look up at him. His cheeks are red, his eyes struggling to stay open, his hands in his hair; this is the hottest he’s ever looked.

You lick your fingers clean of what you didn’t catch in your mouth, savoring the taste of him one more time. You can see Seunghyun’s eyes following your movements carefully, the quick rise and fall of his chest beneath his silky shirt not slowing down. You grin, using the edge of the sofa to support your weight as you stand on your shaky legs.

You try to play it cool but you can feel how aroused you are as you walk towards one of the makeup tables to grab some towels. You wipe your face dry, trying to think of an excuse to leave because now you’re thinking about the conversation that might happen. You aren’t ready to discuss things; you’d rather savor the moment as long as you can and maybe never speak about it again. You’re not sure, but until you figure it out, you know you want to keep the upper hand — if you could call it that after how pathetic you acted. You move back towards Seunghyun to toss a towel onto his chest, then pull your phone from your pocket to pretend to read a text.

“You should get cleaned up,” you say, looking at Seunghyun. “Wouldn’t want that girl you’re seeing to find you like this.” He looks surprised, his jaw slack as he tries to think of something to say in response, but nothing comes out. “Thanks, this was fun,” you say, slipping your phone into your pocket again. “I’ve got to meet up with someone.”

You cross to the exit, disengaging the lock and pulling the door open without sparing him another glance. As you make your way through the building in search of the exit, you try to think of what outcomes you could face. A part of you hopes that you got this feeling out of your system and you won’t have to talk about this with Seunghyun again. But another part of you makes up a dozen different scenarios of what could happen the next time you see your friend. Either way, you know your next move is back to your hotel room to take care of this ache between your thighs before you change your mind and run back to that dressing room with Seunghyun to beg him for help.

[repulsiveliquidation]

If I have to ask, I don’t want it.

Alexia Putellas x Reader [ANGST.]

Years into married life, Alexia gets bored of you. Based on a quote from Frida Kahlo.

//

I’m not asking you to kiss me, nor apologize to me when I think you’re wrong.

“Where the hell were you?” you ask Alexia, confronting her after she walks into the house way past midnight. It’s four hours past she promised to be home, having gone out with the girls for a drink after training. You were home all day waiting for her but she sounded like she needed some time to relax after being cooped up at home from her surgery so you told her to have fun and sorted yourself out. She had promised to only be an hour or two, but it turned into six hours without even a phone call or text.

“Don’t start with me, I’m not in the fucking mood for one of your lectures,” she growls, throwing her bag down and walking into the house without even a glance at you. Your eyes fill with tears, hands clenched into tight fists by your side as she slams the bedroom door behind her.

You follow her, tears flowing down your face. She’s in the bathroom brushing her teeth, rolling her eyes when she sees your crying state in the doorway.

“What does that mean?” you ask her, arms crossed before wiping away your tears.

“I wanted to drink, it’s none of your business what I do.”

“You promised me you’d be home by 8.”

“I’d rather be out with them than stuck at home with you.”

//

I won’t even ask you to hug me when I need it most.

Tears rolled down your cheeks when the doctors told you you couldn’t have children. Your heart shattered into a million pieces when he uttered those words to you and your wife. Alexia looked almost distant, you figured that she was simply devastated by the news and didn’t know how to process it. The moment you got home though, she had lots to say.

“You’re telling me you didn’t fucking know?” she yelled the moment the front door closed.

“Ale, I’ve never had problems before! I-”

“Save it. You know I wanted to start a family and now you fuck things up.”

“Ale, I’m sorry…I’m so so sorry,” you tell her, moving closer to her. you reach out for her hand but she flinches away.

“Save your apologies for someone who cares.”

//

I don’t ask you to tell me how beautiful I am, even if it’s a lie, nor write me anything beautiful.

You’re at an award ceremony with Alexia, she’s sat at the table chatting away with Aitana while you are backstage waiting to receive an award. The beige dress you had on matched Alexia’s suit, there were many compliments hurled your way the entire night. One person hadn’t said anything to you yet, not one compliment from the person that mattered the most to you. Even if you knew that you didn’t come close to being hers.

“She looks stunning in that dress, doesn’t she?” Aitana compliments you as you walk out on stage. Alexia is on her phone, texting someone who’s clearly more interesting than her wife receiving an award on stage.

Aitana slaps her arm, getting more and more annoyed at her friend.

“What?” Alexia says angrily, Aitana just rolls her eyes.

“Alexia. She’s looking at you.”

Alexia looks up at the stage just in time to hear you thanking her for being her beautiful wife and for sticking with her through all the rough patches throughout your career. She forced a smile, knowing that there was surely a camera on her.

You know her well, and that itself hurts because it’s when you walk off stage and you see her smiling at her phone that you know you’ve lost her.

//

I won't even ask you to call me to tell me how your day went, nor tell me you miss me.

Three days. It’s been three days since you last heard from Alexia. You were both on international duty, the England camp was going smoothly when Sarina called for a quick break. You sit beside Leah and go on your phone, hoping to see if Alexia has texted you. Nothing. Your shoulders slump a little and your best friend notices, a look of concern across her face.

“What’s up?” Leah asks, genuinely curious.

“Nothing, it’s,” you contemplate telling her. telling her that you know Alexia is seeing someone else. Loving someone else. Kissing someone else. Fucking someone else. But you hold your tongue. You force a smile like you’ve seen Alexia do in front of you lately, hoping it’s enough to convince your best friend. She doesn’t buy it but knows not to pry, especially when she can see that you’re hurting.

“It’s nothing.”

//

I won’t ask you to thank me for everything I do for you, nor care about me when my soul is down.

“Dinner’s on the table,” you tell Alexia as she walks into the kitchen. You look up to see her all dressed and ready to go out, your expression changes to one of sadness.

“You go ahead,” she says, grabbing her car keys. “I’m meeting someone for dinner.”

“Is it the woman you’re always texting?” you ask quietly, back turned to her. You were a coward, your mind told you; you couldn’t even bear to see the expression of pure surprise on her face that quickly turned into one that was serious.

“I am texting no one,” the front door opens, “Don’t stay up.”

//

I won’t ask you to support me in my decisions.

Having requested to be loaned for the rest of the season, you were excited to see what clubs would want to have you for a while. Arsenal had always been interested in you, having played alongside Leah in the academy when you were younger. So when their legal team got into negotiations with Barça, you immediately agreed.

Things at home hadn’t at all improved, you figured that some time apart would be good for you both.

“Can I speak with you for a second?” you sheepishly ask Alexia who was sitting in the living room on her laptop working away.

She doesn’t even look up at you, nodding her head for you to continue.

“I’m moving to Arsenal for the rest of the season.”

“Why?” she asks with a sharp tone, eyes narrowing in an accusatory fashion.

“They don’t need me here at Barça, besides, it’s not like you need me either.”

“So your solution when we’re having issues is to run away to England? You’ve always thought about yourself and not the team.”

“Don’t you dare say that, I have given this team my everything.”

“And yet here you are, throwing it away because you’re mad at me!”

“Who the hell says I’m doing this for you?” she looks taken aback when you raise your voice. You rarely did, and it takes her by surprise.

“I am doing this for us. You can’t even LOOK at me without looking like you’re disgusted by me. I am going, whether you fucking approve or not.”

//

I won’t even ask you to listen to me when I have a thousand stories to tell you.

“She’s having the time of her life there! Did you see that goal she scored over the weekend, that’s goal of the year material no?” Patri talks to Lucy and Ona about you, the girls missing you, and having spent the weekend bonding and watching your game against Watford.

“Sí, it was perfect. She is thriving at Arsenal, but I hope they give her back!” Ona says with a light chuckle, leaning into Lucy’s side in the locker room after training.

Alexia walks in, Patri yelling at her to join in on the conversation. It was her wife they were talking about anyway.

“Did you talk to your wife at all today? She called me last night and said that she misses you.” Lucy tells her, watching the captain sit in her cubby and undo her shoes. Alexia shakes her head, immediately getting on her phone.

“No, I didn’t have time last night. I’ll text her.”

“What could you possibly be doing except sulking when she’s not at home? You didn’t have a drink with us either, quite frankly you seemed eager to leave after watching the game yesterday.”

“What I do or where I go is none of your fucking business,” Alexia stands and walks across the room to them. She shakes with rage, eyes filled with pure anger at the insinuation of her being unfaithful. She was, but the thought of her friends finding out that she was doing this to you ate at her. You were perfect in their eyes, the person who would be there for anyone, no matter what. And there she was, being the very thing she promised never to do to you the day you got married.

//

I won’t ask you to do anything, not even be my side forever.

Divorce. That was where your marriage was headed. As you sat in your lawyer's office drawing up the documents, you were devastated. Pictures of Alexia with another woman surfaced just before you got home for Christmas. The plane ride was the worst 2 hours of your life. Alexia and you were through. She hadn’t loved you for a very long time but you had tried so hard to ignore it and convince yourself that it wasn’t true. Those pictures were a slap to your face.

She looked happy with her.

She looked content with her.

She looked in love.

You set the papers in front of her at lunch with the girls. They sat in silence as she read the stack, slowly realizing what you had just handed to her. She tried to get you to take them back and work things out but you firmly held your own.

You knew your worth.

You didn’t need her anymore.

You didn’t need to ask for her love ever again.

Because if I have to ask you, I don’t want it anymore.

[djevelbl]

I feel like explaining how Branzy's mannerisms look like in my head is SO. HARD bc he feels like SUCH a peculiar and specific type of person, that even if I TRIED there wouldn't be a fully correct way to string words together to paint the picture. But fuck it we ball — lemme try anyway

(ofc, I'm here talking about his character and personality as he portrays himself in his videos; the same goes for any other youtuber I namedrop as I'm yapping. I don't feel like I have to clarify this, but still. covering my own ass out here, media literacy, yadda yadda, you get it)

In the LifeSteal videos I've watched where he participates/is the main focus of (the Heart Factory + Amusement Park saga mostly, so not a lot lol) he has this... This showmanship, this stage presence, like he's standing alone on the stage floor, the spotlight's on him and the little earpiece hung on him has told him "it's showtime." It's like he's the opening number for the Broadway Musical you came to watch, like he's the circus master of the show; he's all you can focus on once he starts talking, really: he's hilarious and charismatic, disarming with that devilish charm of his, that has endeared him to the deadliest player of the server — even if you never see his face, you can hear his smile every time he talks.

For having been on a Minecraft server that prides itself in death, destruction and preying on players' insecurities before shaking hands on a good season played, Branzy wears his emotions very plainly in how he speaks: he doesn't hide his fear, or his amazement, his excitement, his bloodlust. It's how he is, of course — hiding who you are is hard, but Branzy also plays this all up in his favor: faking his reactions when necessary, blatantly able to disregard his current emotional state to match the attitude of those around him (main example being him matching Clown's attitude even through his own fear of the guy), being able to lie through his teeth about pretty important things (like the state of Carnival Mode to Squiddo at the end of season 5), and others.

His poker face is a smile — all crow's feet and charming show of teeth, something happy and elated as he shows his newest killing contraption and explains it out to his soon-to-be victims. And they fall for it hook, line, sinker. A practiced dance everyone follows Branzy's lead in, subconsciously or otherwise. Because how deadly can it be if it's Branzy who made it?

Not just that, but he's very energetic and has a brand of attitude and sass that kinda reminds me of JT Music in The Details in the Devil (stay with me. I SWEAR this makes sense) — it's the over-the-top singing, the way he goes from a higher pitch to a lower one, the way JT Music's voice rasps around the edges; it all has the same vibe and attitude to me as Branzy's showman persona: all glamour for the camera, a big smile to attract new clientele, charm that oozes out of every pore and you don't even notice that it's a deal with the devil you're making. Until he's gone and you're left to pick up the pieces — even then, sometimes you just don't. notice.

A maybe (hopefully) easier to picture example

To me, in a sense, Branzy feels like the in-between missing link of AM from I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream and Caine from The Amazing Digital Circus: all the bloodlust, anger, and sadistic tendencies from AM, and all the genuine, kind, goofy showmaster personality of Caine — a weird combo, for sure, but Caine is already based off of AM so like, thought it was as appropriate of a comparison I could make; especially bc Caine is a ringmaster, and Branzy does give ringmaster vibes to me so idk

Ofc, this is him at his peak, in his element, where he controls the playing chips — he's playing 4D chess and everyone's using checkers pieces. This is him gathering and casually using the power and influence he lords over the server — I mean, have you seen how ppl react to his mere appearance?? People love him, that's where he thrives: where people have an attachment to Branzy, Branzy has power; people kept coming back to the rollercoaster bc it was fun and a challenge and bc it was Branzy who made it — throw the credit onto Clown, ManePear, FlameFrags, any other pvp-skilled player, and watch as people run the other way. Branzy is the perfect combo of charismatic, charming, boyfailure-coded, somehow still competent, and fun to amass server-wide cred that wouldn't be broken no matter how many lives he claims via his machinery.

Clown is dangerous, sure — he's good at pvp and intimidating, he can do his fair share of manipulation when needed, but he's ultimately relatively easy to avoid: he follows a set of rules and while he doesn't vocalize them, if you observe him enough you'll eventually learn them. You'll eventually understand what the triggers are, which convo topics are best to avoid and how to best gain favor with him.

Branzy, though? He's very much a loose canon — beyond keeping his good relationship with Clown for protection (and bc he cares, let's be honest here) and whatever he deems fun today, I doubt he cares about much else; these two things are THE. MOST important to him, and there's little you can personally do to control either, if anything at all.

Branzy is SO interesting to me bc he's outwardly all smiles, happy-go-lucky in a sense and a coward — everyone knows this, it ain't no secret, and if it ever was meant to be we've left that station SEVERAL seasons ago. Yet inside there's a raging beast that begs to be released — the only reason we don't see it too often is LITERALLY bc Branzy is HORRIBLE at pvp; we STILL see it though: in how he encourages people to keep trying his deadly park rides, how he dangles prizes in front of their faces so sweetly and so casually so they keep coming back. In how he doesn't hesitate to betray his team so he can gain favor with Clown, a character he believes will be a bigger protection than his team was beforehand. In how he didn't even bat an eye as he bold-face lied to Squiddo about Carnival Mode being broken when it was most beneficial for Clown for it to "be broken". In how he casually makes a bragging joke about having easily killed two of the strongest players without lifting a finger to battle, because they wanted to play his carnival games.

Branzy has two loyalties: first to Clown and second to himself. Everyone else be damned

So coming back to the mannerisms thing — in my head he's extra extra: I'm talking "dangled upside down from a tree branch to scare someone as he introduced them all to the Chicken Launchers" type of extra, I'm talking "he did a handstand on the rollercoaster cart (with his elytra on, he isn't stupid I swear) as it jumped over the tiny lava pit to introduce people to the attraction" type of extra, I'm talking "he designed a mechanical crossbow he could wear on his arm so he could shoot the door locking mechanism trigger at the bigtop tent the most dramatic way possible" type of extra. He's a theater kid at heart, I just know it — he's dramatic and extra and so fun, so of course he'd have fun with it all! He's an adrenaline junkie (honestly? Why else is he still a sucker for Clown?? Adrenaline junkie + that's his work bf) and he will do a dramatic full split in front of Fleshy's to introduce people to the food stand and you cannot change my mind

So. Yea! In my head Branzy's mannerisms are a combo of showman enthusiasm, theater kid dramatics, acrobatics fueled by his adrenaline junkie ways, and random rubberhose-like body movements that are uncanny on like. an ACTUAL normal human body bc he reminds me of Bendy and I. Don't know. How else. To cope with it, so deal with it.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Midas Man Reaction

I watched this using a google drive version from @skydiamonded thank you, thank you!

Spoilers under the cut!!!

Weird looking at this guy and trying to tell myself he's Brian. He's a very Brian type of guy but still he's not Brian. 

I do love the first person narration and the instantly shattered fourth wall.

I love seeing his Jewish faith and culture in a way that wasn't publicly as prominent when he was alive. 

Honestly didn't know adding a significant record store to their furniture store was Brian's idea. I'm looking every new thing I learn up because biopics can be very misleading, but this is fun!

I am absolutely Reveling in the contrast between crisp, classy Brian and the squalor of the cavern. So good! 

Guys I'm a sucker for this stuff. John comes on stage swigging something talking in awful German and then there's Paul whoring it up flirting having a personal conversation with some girl in the crowd. And the John/Paul banter! I'm falling for it so hard. 

(John girls I will give it to you, you guys got shafted with the looks of this actor)

Same, Brian. I get it. I'd be in love with them too. 

The incessant mocking of his posh accent Thank You!

Paul's face. I've definitely seen this irl. He loves watching John do his acerbic wit thing. Reminds me of that one quote that basically said Paul used John's cruelty to his own advantage. 

The confidence of Brian just deciding to be a manager. The actor is doing such a good job of capturing that duality in Brian of part timid awkwardness part brazen optimism. 

The Spain dialogue! How can they tease that and not include the trip?!?! Also John dropping Hemingway and Brian's pleasant surprise. Just you wait, Brian. 

“My Gran takes pills for that” genuinely got me.

The way they look at each other is accurate even if John doesn't look a thing like himself

“I think you're special. I think you'll go all the way. And I promise I will look after you.” Whether Brian said it that way out loud at the time or not it's what he felt. And that was so so important. They needed someone to say that and mean it so badly. Look how he's looking at them!

“Like family. Only better. No secrets from each other.” Break my fucking heart not even twenty minutes in why don't you? Brian you deserved to live in the future. I'm so sorry you had to be put here in the time you were.

I will say the makeover breaks my heart. I get that it was necessary, but it hurts. 

Ringo's grey steak and his accent and his friendly tough older cousin demeanor!!!

You hear Paul singing as they drive up, fantastic. And the little shoulder pat as they go in, “alright Brian.” John's little line about the time jump is fun too. 

Pete's drumming is patently bad. Thank You!

The whole John railing on Brian and Paul telling him to leave off I think is probably accurate, but. With all the quotes I have in my documents about Paul actually being the one who gave Brian the most trouble, I have to wonder if we're going to see that complexity or if we're going to stick to the “mean John, nice Paul” stereotypes. 

But also Paul definitely does not stick up for Pete. (Who he also picked at much more than John irl) Anyway I love to see the strategic reigning in or letting loose of John's temper for me.

Again with the class contrasts!!! These fucking snobs talking down to Brian I can't. It's just another proof of the boys’ need for him and his management. And not just because he's socially higher than them, but can you see John handling that shit well? No. That ass hat would get decked. 

The pride with which he says “My boys” to those douchebags after all of that!!!

“Asked you and Daddy for a car” is a great line.

I got so scared when that guy came up so suddenly like that because I know how violent some of those encounters were. It breaks my heart for him. 

And then the pills. It got so cold so fast. 

Those secretaries should be in charge of those record companies is what I'm getting here. 

I knew he was going to lie and say that he got them the contract. I wonder if he did irl. Something else I'll have to look up but it does make sense with what I know of Brian. He just loves them so so much. “I can't bear their disappointment when they feel I've let them down.” 

The George actor overdoes the accent a bit but I really love the facial expressions. I've seen that one a million times. 

Also love that John and Paul are facing each other. Very nice. 

No one is going to hold a candle to the actual Paul's voice but what are you going to do? 

They've got Paul's need for John's approval right though. John's already said all sorts of positive things and Paul's immediately fishing for more.

Yes! Paul is George Martin's very special favorite baby boy and it would be wrong to play it otherwise. 

I should've said this before but it's driving me crazy in this scene. Why is George's hair significantly lighter than John's? 

Interesting that it doesn't even show Brian talking to the others about sacking Pete. 

“It's my sound. They're all doing it now. Ringo.” What is this bullshit? Insinuating Ringo copied Pete's sound? Why did they put that in there? Ew, take it out!

Look at him, already so at ease and happy. I love you, Ringo! 

See I knew it was going to get more violent. Ugh it twists my stomach. And his poor terrified face when the guy says he knows him. He was so scared of his secret life having a negative affect on the boys career. And then Brian telling us straight to our faces about being brutally beaten and helping the man afterwards. It's cutting. Such a contrast from the upbeat, prideful Brian of many of the other camera-facing narrations. 

The sharp turnaround of Alastair overhearing the end of Brian's little aside here though! I love the way this movie is playing with perspective and curtains. Very much a nod to Brian's behind the scenes work on behalf of the biggest group in the history of the world. 

Love how the Beatles are annoyed that Brian doesn't offer any details about them when he's going through his lineup! Very clever, very them!

Cilla clearly knows Brian's gay and she's the first one that's made that clear. At least to me! Maybe the scene with the prellies and the Beatles teasing him about that was something. But she's the first where it's obvious she knows. And he's so moved that she's just casually okay with his sexuality.

Then we get him apologizing to his family right after. It's getting to the point where I'm like I don't know what there is to say. 

Paul being the class-conscious one. Very good, very good. 

John “might even swear” Brian “please don't” Paul “he won't” Okay I know where they're going with this it's obviously going to be the rattle your jewelry” line. But they're going with the stereotype here of Paul reigning John in when really he was backstage daring John to say it. 

Achhhh this does bug me. Okay I know I'm the most insufferable Paul girl and it's Brian's movie. But! John's little look to the side as he says that line is at Paul, not Brian. Because, like I said before, Paul had been egging him on, and he's like “see I'm doing it” 

The scene with Ed Sullivan in the burger joint is reminding me of the Elvis movie. And it's nice. If anyone else is reminded of that it'll be a stark contrast between Brian and the general or whatever his name is. 

So happy that he can connect with Nat in this way even though they're from completely different worlds in every way other than their Jewish backgrounds. 

Still overwhelmingly annoyed they took out the romance with John to invent this Tex character. For multiple reasons. It's just not the truth for one thing. For another, it's a less interesting story. Brian is less complicated. The romance is flatter. Not a fan. 

But. In one way it's nice that he gets to be in a less complicated real relationship. Unless this is going to be like the Tex from the comic book which doesn't end well at all :/. What am I saying of course it can't end well. Ugh. 

Ringo’s tummy troubles! Ringo calling John a posh puddin! Thank Fuck!

It is very much driving home the fact that they're a rare bright spot in his life. 

John starting the pillow fight all agro and then instantly backing off “now lads take it easy” we love the accuracy!

Oh. Colonel. I knew that. 

Another thing I'm going to have to look up. Did they really have to stop the show twice due to a jelly bean barrage? Actually so many fun details in this little narration. A fish truck? Really? You couldn't have chosen any other vessel? hashtag acab. 

“I” made it clear? They're saying it's Brian's decision they won't perform to segregated audiences? Mkay. He's fantastic enough with his actual progressive actions and ideals. You can give the boys some credit for their own actions without losing anything for Brian. 

Brian screaming with all the girls. Cute! I do just have to say this is a George Martin story. But I'm sure Brian did it at some point too.

That stings! Going from all this huge success Brian of Brian's to his dad looking proud, making a toast, and I assumed it must be a party in Brian's honor but no. It's his brother's wedding. 

Wait I'm confused now. Does Cilla not know? 

I do love that she's concerned for him and expressing that. Because we know the boys aren't going to do that. 

Poor baby he's absolutely elated that Tex is here.

I don't want to shame like I have read that Brian liked it rough although who knows if the writers of these statements are homophobes leaning into stereotypes of the time anyway there's obviously nothing wrong with rough sex. But I want Tex to be sweet and gentle with him because it looks like Brian is flinching and why wouldn't he be after what he's been through?

Also I hate that he's like “how can I get him to love me and stay with me etc” and he says he'll make him a star even though obviously he can't promise that and he's so so stretched thin already. 

Yep I hate Tex more and more. The yelling is awful holy shit.

Clearly Brian is only happy when he's with the Beatles. 

So this is them trying to put a little “vibe” between John and Brian? Having them have a "deep looking" discussion from a safe distance at a crowded party? Not really working imo.

But this is nice. I've seen this picture before. Look at cute cuddly Ringo. I adore that about him. For the one of them with the toughest background to be the most comfortable and easy with his affection. It's beautiful. 

What the fuck!!! Tex is openly just chatting up someone else at Brian's party and Brian sees him as he's bringing them drinks and just retreats like that's what he deserves. Somebody give this sweet man some actual love!

The stark contrast between the silly, upbeat -- hectic yes -- but happy 64 tour narration and this. It's almost black and white it's so dim and muted and though the music is slow, Brian is talking very very fast and the drinks and pills are much faster than last time too. 

Again. Interesting that it's presented as Brian who declined Marcos in the Philippines. “They grab the boys and they drag them away.” I've never heard an account say it was that bad, but maybe it was? I don't know, I think if it was, John and George would've said so at some point post break-up. 

This is very interesting cinematic work. I don't know shit about anything but it strikes me as a very interesting choice to make this terrible time gradually fade into extremely sharp colorless chaos. The cute little maps and cut aways to contextualizing scenery are gone and it’s just Brian panicking backed by silhouetted violence.

And then he forces himself to get it together, talks slower, straightens himself out, presumably because he does what he has to do to protect the boys. 

“Right. Are you coming in?” “Do you think that I would let you out of my sight, John?” It's so good. I hope this is what it was. 

Paul's protective press conference answer comes off a bit more "team player" than "angry boyfriend" for one reason. IRL he jumps in, on this occasion and many others, without being addressed at all. Here, they ask specifically for a comment from the other three and George's comment comes first. Annoying. But overall t's very well done. And Brian is so proud of them all for being so strong in the face of all this stupidity. 

I love that Brian is protective of them and supportive of their decision to stop touring. I wonder how much of a say they actually gave him in that. 

“The press misquotes them, they can't be themselves, and if you can't be yourself . . .” He's so sweet. This takes me back to the family without secrets thing at the beginning. It's all so “well I know how awful this or that can be so I'm going to spare them from that” 

I didn't know creme or the who were involved with Brian too. Another thing to look up! 

Thank goodness for Nat Weiss. If only he and Brian could've been together. 

I know it's not fair to expect too much of them with everything they were going through but I kind of hate all four Beatles right now. Brian crying about Paul not coming to a party and Paul's letter (well- meant that man had a very fucked up perspective on love and other complexities himself) about Brian just choosing not to be depressed is echoing in my head. 

Yes, Brian's shit father. There was something you didn't give your son. Only the most important thing there is. 

Eek they look so shockingly different. I wonder if it was that jarring for him. Why is it John that doesn't have the mustache? It was just Paul that had it, then the other three immediately followed, then just Paul that shaved it. Who knows what they're thinking here. Probably just didn't think about it, or maybe the John actor was just too hideous with a mustache?

“And I have a proposal.” “Brian, I do.” “Finally!” See, that dialogue could've worked so much better if they'd been truthful about the sexual side to John and Brian's relationship. 

“I think I'll be leaving the band now,” says George, at the mention of a film. I'm dead. 

Why is Ringo wearing tons of blush and eyeshadow? 

This little moment is great though just because it's John and Paul interested and participating in the direction of the band and George and Ringo along for the ride. 

The Paul actor did such a great job. His little giggle at John's dad joke is perfect. That's exactly what Paul sounds like.  

Why are they leaning so hard into George being the funny one in this movie? This whole movie it's him with the little quips. The phone thing is very Paul's humor though. Good, good. God I'm so annoyingly obsessed with him. 

It's very much leaning into the argument that Brian's death was accidental. I like to think that's the truth and there's certainly a strong case. The big plans with the Beatles and outside them too. The fact that his mother very much needed him after his father's death and he's got plans to take care of her. But there are also sources that say he was actually hospitalized due to suicide attempts. So. I don't know. 

Now we do the Buddhist bit. Arms around. That's something very different. But this makes me think of that quote, and I hope they did this too and I hope they included Brian.

John's just so tiny lmao I'm actually obsessed!

I love that the last line was about Brian saying he was “on top of the world”. 

You know what, I think we can choose to believe what we want about Brian’s death, and until someone presents me with empirical untenable objective evidence, I’m choosing to believe it was accidental. Doesn’t mean it’s not absolutely tragic. Doesn’t mean he didn’t have serious mental health problems. But it does mean he wanted to stick around despite all the hardships in his life for the good he was able to do and the joy he took in doing it.

[projectjasper]

so, in the midst of me constantly thinking about and analysing phum, i didn't write that much meta on peem or really think about his reasoning too much. for a long while, i dismissed his slightly erratic behaviour as a response to phumpeem's initial meeting and how their relationship has been set up because of it, but this episode solidified the fact that that's not it.

instead, for whatever reason, peem is insecure.

the most damning piece of evidence for this, i think, does not involve phum at all (and that is exactly the reason why it's such good evidence). though the majority of this post will still be about phumpeem lmao.

so, when peem claims that there is nothing going on between him and phum, kluen says that means he still has a chance, which gives us this confused face:

nothing in the world could produce this reaction in these circumstances, aside from insecurity. kluen isn't phum. he and peem don't have any bizarre backstory together, and he is very direct about his romantic pursuit. he explicitly said he came to the camp to hit on peem in front of all his friends and he reiterated the sentiment by saying what he did in this scene. the only kind of person who would need a clarification, when things are laid out that clearly is a person who is insecure and therefore has a hard time being sure about the fact that someone likes them and/or is actively trying to hit on them.

now, onto the star of the show: phumpeem! what do we know about peem's pov of their relationship at this point? 1) he has fully admitted that he likes phum, to the point of literally calling himself out on even trying to deny it. 2) he is happy about the fact that he likes phum. we are leagues away from the possibility that he has any issues with phum or the fact that he has a crush on him, which we have so much proof of, whether it be him actively enjoying the fact that phum is trying to get his attention, him looking at phum as if he hung the moon and calling him prince charming, him literally giggling and kicking his feet at that memory the next day, him instantly forgiving phum because he genuinely trusts him and thinks he is a good person, even if he makes mistakes sometimes, or any of the other clear signs that he is enjoying what's going on between them, both in the moment and in retrospective.

and now, let's take a look at all the moments from today's episode through the lens of peem's insecurity in himself and security in his feelings / phum:

him acting a little weird and distant after hugging phum the whole night, very reminiscent of the way he acted the day after their first kiss. both times after moments when peem made the first move.

him acting genuinely confused about phum's behaviour towards kluen, despite getting a fairly clear confirmation that phum is jealous when he literally bribed a child to get peem away from kluen. this is definitely not a "what a weirdo" face, this is a "wait, what's going on here?" face. he does not get it.

him claiming there is nothing going on between phum and him, despite clearly wanting that something and being in the depths of the talking stage, which is definitely a real relationship stage to him, as that was how he described chain and toey to q.

him looking a little heartbroken, when phum says he wants to call off the deal, as if that would actually mean that they stop spending time together.

him confirming that that is indeed his fear, when he literally looks terrified at the prospect and fully asks to continue being phum's "slave".

him not being able to admit why he kept the flowers

or making up a lie about not having finished the painting, even though he definitely has, because he literally said so to his aunt.

and him answering a question with a question, needing to hear the fact that phum likes him directly first, before he confesses back. which, in all this context, just doesn't read as stubbornness.

all of this makes sense, if you consider the fact that peem is insecure and is afraid of reading into other people, when what he's trying to glean is their opinion of him specifically.

one big thing that he constantly repeats (this moment is far from the only time he says that in this episode alone) is asking phum to tell him what he thinks directly. mind you, unlike phum, who is just constantly deeply confused about everyone and can't take implications for shit, peem is actually absolutely incredible at understanding what other people's feelings are, even when they don't tell him directly, as long as the feelings in question aren't about peem.

he also manages those small bursts of confidence, like kissing phum first or reaching out to him, but they are not long-lasting and are often followed by bursts of denial and shyness, which is extremely common for someone who is insecure but also impressively brave.

and here is your key to pre-relationship phumpeem and the reason why we are on episode 10 and they are still not dating. insecure x insecure can be hard at times. they both need the other to outright state their feelings, and that is just not easy for either of them. but they are getting there. together 🫶

[cosmorandom]

I hope we get to see more of Aster's acting capabilities from a more introspective view point. It's so fascinating to me how he and Morvay are almost opposites when it comes to communicating with real emotions.

Morvay is joked around to be insatiable and shameless with how horny he is, but that's because he's so honest that it becomes his detriment. Morvay is so accepting of his own emotions, how he functions and presents himself that what people might think of him is a mere afterthought. I'm sad that a lot of people miss it, but Morvay acts largely by his own emotions and desires, it's only at really important moments that he sets aside his own wants in favor of the most optimal outcome. And even then, he'll show hesitation or a clear distaste for it. It's not just lust, Morvay is so unbelievably honest to both himself and the world that it gets used as a punchline for innuendos. And because of this, Morvay can't lie (at least, lie by himself without instruction or guidance) or act to save his life.

Aster on the other hand is harder to read. In his SSR intimacy rooms (as well as his R room I think) Aster states that in order to keep up the appearance that he's a human being, he's had to stage his own death and pretend to be his own descendant. Because of this, Aster had to learn how to talk, act and present himself differently across his fake lives. Not only that, but most obviously, Aster is a businessman, a morally questionable one at that. We've seen multiple time throughout events and stories that Aster has the ability to manipulate and pull strings for the convenience of both himself and Eiden. Aster would also need to act in these cases. He needs to put a front, make himself look desperate or powerful. Make it seem like he's on his last legs or have exactly what the other party wants.

Even outside of business, Aster acts. He's kind of a brat, loves attention, pretends to be angel while being into hardcore BDSM with him as the Dom.. And I can't help but wonder... What if the writers addressed this on a deeper level? With both morvay and aster.

Imagine an event or a chapter with Aster questioning his own honesty. When Eiden praises him, is it real gratitude or is it him desperately clinging onto a master's love? When he makes money, does he truly enjoy the feeling of income or is it the feeling of owning something, controlling something, that makes him happy? When he parades himself to be cute, generous, wise and a person worth adoring, is that a true display of ego or is Aster reassuring himself? Reassuring himself that he's a person worth loving because of all the years of solitude and neglect? You could say the "pretending to be okay" has been done by Eiden, Edmond or Olivine, but those guys are usually aware of themselves to a degree. They pretend to be okay for the comfort of others, but in Aster's case, it's pretending for the comfort of himself.

Imagine if we could tie this into Morvay as well. Because Morvay has been true to himself since his birth, surely Aster would want to know what that's like. To simply be yourself without consequence, to be that "shameless". Hell, Morvay could probably help Aster realize his baggage in this way, though he may not be fully aware of it. Even though they've been living together for nearly a century, the way they live is so different from one another. Morvay has always been himself despite his ups and downs, and Aster has changed in order to cope with the pain of being abandoned. Imagine Aster, genuine and confused, asking Morvay "How do you do it? How do you live purely as yourself and not like anyone else?"

And y'know what, let's add Eiden in here as well!! Because as much as Eiden knows about the struggles and traumas of his clan members, the game very unfortunately hasn't gone very deep with him and his familiars. I hope to god Chapter 16 goes into them more, and addresses what Huey's disappearance has done to these poor men. Aster especially. Morvay is open as a public bible (ironically), but even Eiden misunderstands or can't get a full read on Aster. He knows the familiars desperately miss Huey, and were devastated at Huey's disappearance, but imagine Eiden finding out just how much deeper their trauma goes. Imagine Eiden holding his familiars close and promising that he's not going to abandon them, not going to leave them without a word, and that he loves them dearly. That would especially destroy Aster.

This particular statement may age poorly, but imagine if Aster and Morvay never once heard Heuy say that he loves them? Like, yes, he may have shown gratitude and praised the familiars doing their jobs, but imagine if they never got a full blown "I love you" from the man? And what if Eiden was the one to finally deliver that message for them? God. DEVS HIRE ME I'LL WORK FOR FREE SSRs (/j)

[zukosdualdao]

hakoda being a genuinely loving, supportive father to katara and never invalidating her feelings but still comforting her is something that can be so important <3333

especially, as many as have pointed out, as it contrasts with zuko’s hollow reunion with ozai, getting conditional and tenuous praise while still nervous, knowing he’s on thin, dangerous ice, and on his knees in a pose that more or less looks like he is awaiting judgment.

one of the ways this really gets highlighted is that katara spends the episode needling hakoda. just a little, just here and there—he just heard me call you dad didn’t he? and it’s sokka’s invasion plan both spring to mind—and i don’t think even she understands why she’s doing it. she seems sincere and surprised when aang suggests katara’s mad at her dad. but it’s definitely there, and it maybe was there for a while, because there was a weeks-long time skip we didn’t see.

but there is never, not for one moment, a point at which katara thinks needling hakoda in this way might put her in danger, or a point at which the audience is supposed to be worried for her on that level. it doesn’t even cross her mind (because hakoda is a good and non-abusive dad), and the only reason it crosses mine now is because of how it contrasts with the zuko and ozai scene.

there is tension between them, sure—we see hakoda reacting with some sad/confused expressions but still appeasing her—but even as hurt and confused and angry as she does feel, katara feels 100% safe to express it all to hakoda without any fear of retribution or danger.

contrastly, zuko is… you know, i said nervous before, but terrified would be a more apt word. everything from his expression, to the ominous music, to the staging as ozai looms over him is supposed to show us that. he’s terrified. and the audience absolutely is supposed to be worried that zuko is in danger here because we’ve seen why he’s terrified and know he has every reason to be and that the situation is inherently tenuous at best: zuko would never and could never poke at his father, the way katara does hers in this episode, because it wouldn’t be safe to do so.

zuko spends most of his interaction with ozai completely silent, in fact, and when he does speak up—what did you hear?—he’s walking on eggshells to navigate the lie azula’s told, and the danger he’s finding himself in anyway.

also, just to be clear, this is not katara hate, i literally love her. i love that katara gets to act this way because it’s such an honest portrayal of a teenage girl with complicated emotions, and i find her reconciliation scene with hakoda to be one of the most cathartic scenes in the entire show. and like, i’m glad that she never has reason to even consider that hakoda might harm her in some way, because that’s not a situation that any kid should ever be in. the point is the parallel with zuko, who very much does have reason to worry about what his father will do, is as fascinating as it is tragic.

[luveline]

𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part one | part two 

You don’t mean to make an enemy of Eddie Munson — he’s handsome, and talented, but he’s the biggest jerk you’ve ever met. Eddie thinks you’re infuriatingly pretty, emphasis on the infuriating. Too bad you just can’t seem to leave each other alone. 

fem!reader, enemies-to-lovers, rival rockstars, mutual pining, slight miscommunication, angst, hurt-comfort, eddie has mixed intentions, sexual tension, TW bullying (in case), TW recreational drug use, drinking, smoking, swearing. disclaimer: I can’t play an instrument

𓆩❤︎𓆪

The Coral Apartments, California, November 1990

Eddie Munson looks good on TV. You try to convince yourself that it's the blurry imagery, the three-toned LED's, but you know it's because he's plain good-looking. Rockstar suits him. Glam suits him; eyeliner, ripped shirts, ever-bruised knuckles and cut up fingertips that speak of a wrought dedication to the music he plays. 

You look away from the TV and push the sheets down with your feet, naked legs flat to the mattress and covered in your own cuts and bruises. It's not entirely Morgan's fault, but every time you see the shiny scar on your ankle you get mad at her again. She'd been sloppy on stage, pulled her mic tight and sent you reeling over it like a tripwire. You'd cut up your legs, sprained your wrist, and split your chin. On national TV. In front of thousands of people. 

Your ego is pretty bruised too. 

Worse was the bouquet of flowers you'd been sent the day after, huge and bursting with colour from a certain dark-haired thorn in your side. 

Saw you ate shit. Stop day-dreaming about me during sets and you'll be fine. EM 

You'd trashed the card but hadn't had the heart to fob the flowers. The last survivors of the bunch wilt slowly on the nightstand beside you, a much too pretty reminder of somebody you're trying to forget. Or rather, erase. You won't admit to yourself what happened at Monsters of Rock, because admitting it means he's winning. 

Morgan pushes your door open with her hip. If she's perturbed to find you in your underwear she doesn't say a word, making a beeline for your bag. She takes out your Newports and taps the carton against her chest. 

"What's up?" she asks, sliding a cigarette from the box and propping it between her shiny lips. "You still feeling sorry for yourself?"

"Morgan." 

She lights her cigarette, laughing through an exhale of smoke. "How many times do I have to say sorry?" 

"Once would be nice." 

"Babe." Morgan sits at the end of your bed, in a good mood for once but still herself. "I'm sorry you fell over my mic." 

She likely doesn't even see what's wrong with her apology. You accept it for what it is and hold your arm out for the pack and lighter. Knees pulled up, you settle against the headboard and light a cigarette yourself, but snuff it out after a shallow inhale. Nothing feels worth indulging in when the knot of anxiety in your chest keeps on tightening. 

"Where's Ananya?" you ask. 

"You're watching this again?" 

You glance at the TV where Corroded Coffin play through their Monsters of Rock set. 

"M'just waiting for us," you lie mildly.

"Sure… You know, you shouldn't feel bad about your spill last week. Look at Munson. Biggest crowd of his life and he's tripping over an E major." 

She snorts, the two of you watching as the Eddie on screen looks to the left of the stage and misses his mark. 

"How do you flub that?" She rolls her eyes. "Boys." 

How did he flub it? You'd been standing on the side stage cleaned up and smiling like you were half in love with him. The recording is proof — whatever power it is that he has over you, you have something similar over him. 

"Anya's in the lobby waiting for us." 

You sit up. 

"Why?" 

Morgan points at the alarm clock on your nightstand with the smouldering tip of her cigarette. "It's Friday." 

"It's Thursday." 

She smiles at you. If you didn't know her, the look of pity on her face might almost feel genuine. As it stands, she's a magnanimous bitch when she wants to be. She's lucky that it suits her. 

"It's Friday, babe. And we're," —she tilts her head to one side, the bemusement in her eyes unmissable— "ten minutes late." 

"Shit. Shit." You stand up on wobbly legs. "Fuck." 

"Don't worry! I got you something." 

With Morgan, you aren't sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But you don't really have a choice. 

—

Eddie won't admit to anybody why he finds himself in California. The band isn't touring, award season is mostly over. He should go home and see Wayne because fuck he's a bad nephew, a bad son, and Wayne deserves a whole lot better than one phone call a week when Eddie's too hungover to actually listen to what his uncle is saying. He should head back to Hawkins and make sure Wayne's actually cashing in the cheque's Eddie's been sending. 

He shouldn't be hanging around parties hosted by people he only knows from TV looking for you, that's for sure. 

The good thing about being semi famous is that introductions don't matter. Either somebody already knows you or they don't, and everybody assumes you already know them. Eddie can't count how many times somebody's pulled him in for a one-armed hug and said "Good to see you again," when they've never met before. 

It could be the coke. It's probably the ego. 

Eddie isn't extremely introspective or anything, but he hopes to fuck that he isn't an asshole. He knows he is in superficial ways. He's said some hurtful shit to people — to you — he wishes every now and then that he could take back. In the moment it had felt right to tease you, to belittle you as he thought you'd belittled him. He'd wanted to put his hand out and ask how high you can jump. But then he remembers how your bandmates had spoken to you, or your glitzy smile. He remembers the twisting pain in his chest when you'd fallen over on stage a week ago (though if anybody asks, he heard about it from somebody else). You'd smashed into the floor with a cruel force, arms twisted trying to protect your guitar, not a second spared to save yourself. You'd got back on your feet with blood dripping down your chin and played the rest of the song without complaint. Not one person had stepped in to clean you up. 

It drives Eddie insane. He can't help it. He hates you and he wants to linger on the sidelines and watch you play. He can't stand the despondent look in your eyes when you look at him, when you look at the floor. He needs you to know that you're better than they tell you, but he can't make himself say the words. 

So he'd sent you flowers and made a lame joke, hoping for hot and coming off desperate no doubt. He'd regretted it as soon as he'd hung up the phone, but he hadn't cancelled the order. Something colourful, he'd said. What flowers cheer people up? 

The florist had laughed at his awkward tone and said that all flowers do the trick. 

God, he hopes so. 

Which isn't to say Eddie likes you. He can't stand you, actually, come to think of it, standing in the sticky pit of some actress' kitchen as he pioneers the radio and flicks through to Roller FM. Resentment burns like fire as the dial clicks beneath his fingers, turning the volume up enough to hear the radio host introduce your band. 

"And tonight, a month before their new studio album hits the charts, Godless are letting us be the first to hear the second single. The outpour of hype after their first, Down and Out, was no small feat, and we have the lovely ladies here tonight to walk us through that fresh sound. But first, let's spin that new single. Ladies and gents, this is Silver Ringed…" 

Godless are about as cohesive as Corroded Coffin. They have a unique sound as most chart toppers tend to have, and as much as he thinks your front woman is a total hack, she can sing. Her voice moves from sultry and quiet to aggressive and rasping. She isn't afraid to scream when she needs to, and you and Ananya obviously won't let yourselves be outdone. Your music is visceral. It's good. Not Corroded Coffin good, you don't have the clean cut sound they do, but Eddie knows that isn't the point. It's supposed to be a little dirty, and since they let you on the writing floor it's getting worse. Better. Whatever. 

Eddie rubs his face with both hands. 

When the song ends, the radio host asks some questions about the new album, inspirations, touring, promotional album covers, the works, and Eddie hates himself for waiting to hear your voice. He grows irritated at the sound of Morgan's raspy nonchalance. 

"I mean, you guys are really stepping into a new genre here." It's true. Godless and bands like yours are more energetic, more aggressive than what Eddie plays. It's a divisive subject. Eddie likes it, but he knows a ton of metalheads who think it's immature. It's certainly not traditional. "Your first album was a whole lot different. And it was good, Godless broke into the scene! But this is new. You guys are more original and more popular than ever. Why the change?" The host laughs. "Well, she's sitting right here." 

Eddie thinks he can hear you inhale, but it's Morgan who speaks. 

"I wanted more for us, you know? Our first record, we just wanted to prove we could do it. This time we want to prove no one else can." 

Jamison scoffs. Eddie looks up from the radio and finds his bandmate with a beer in hand. He tries to steal it and gets an elbow to the chest for the effort. 

"Dick," he says. 

"Get your own." Jamison tilts his head toward the radio in a show of tuning in. "Can't tear yourself away, huh? How's your girlfriend?" 

"Christ," Eddie hisses. 

"You need him. Aw, she sounds so sweet." 

Eddie startles back to the radio, and sure enough you've finally been allowed to talk. Your voice is soft with nerves. 

"It's a lot to adjust to, I think I'm slow to- uh, get with the program. But I'm so happy to get to make music and to be a part of something this sick. Uh, this amazing, I mean." 

Poor girl, he thinks. By the end of your answer you sound like you want the ground to swallow you up. Thankfully the host is a professional, and laughs warmly. 

"It's a big lifestyle change! We talked a little about influence, is there a track I can play you guys out with? What's your favourite?" he asks. 

"Me?" you ask. 

"Yeah, you." 

"Oh, uh…" You laugh, sounding frazzled and sweet at once. "It has to be Black Sabbath, right? Do you guys have, um, The Mob Rules? Mob Rules is my favourite." 

Eddie needs to get very drunk, he decides, and he does. He drinks until he can't taste the difference between the shitty craft beer and seven hundred dollar cognac. Until he forgets why he was drinking in the first place, to erase the sound of your voice and your Sabbath recommendation — who the fuck picks Mob Rules over Heaven and Hell? He's tipsy and he won't remember, but he wants to fuck you stupid just for that (affectionately).

He loves Mob Rules. 

They move from one party to another, sloshed in the back of a car he still can't afford with his rockstar paycheck, more than drunk in the bathroom of a Studio City mansion kissing powder off of his fingers. Whatever he's been given doesn't last very long (though it hits hard), and he comes back to reality on a huge fancy couch surrounded by people, some he knows and most he doesn't. 

"I need a drink," he says. 

And he gets the shock of his life.

"I don't think that's a very good idea," you say gently. 

Eddie swings his head to yours, finding you in a nice dress, the gem of a necklace fallen down the valley of your chest. The lights are high and blaring and he can see the fine hairs of your face, the shine of your lipgloss like a siren call. 

"Why are you here?" he asks. 

You shrug. He watches your shoulders. 

"I need a drink," he says again. 

"Like, a beer? I don't judge but I think you’ll get alcohol poisoning if you drink anything else." 

"Like a beer." 

You look like you might stand up and get him one, for a second. He's ultimately glad that you don't. You twist around, elbow over the back of the couch, and your face beams like a star as you call, "Hey, Dornie? Could you toss me a beer, please?" 

Eddie worries he'd wanted to see you so badly you've appeared as a hallucination, and he hates himself and it's all old news anyways, but you turn back with a cold as ice beer in hand and press it into his arm until he whines.

"I'm sobering you up," you tease, again so gently. He does not like how you're looking at him, like you feel sorry for him. 

He takes the beer though the second sip makes him feel sick to his stomach, and tries not to look at you. 

"What, you don't want to be my friend anymore?" you ask. 

What has he said? 

"Sweetheart," he says, focusing very hard on sounding solid, "a friend is the last thing I want from you." 

"Could've fooled me… Hey, you wanna know a secret?" 

"What?" 

You lean in close, smelling of perfume, your face undeniably touchable. "I heard from somebody who heard from somebody else that they're kicking Tony Martin to the curb." 

He blinks. "Sabbath?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Why the fuck would they do that?" 

"Think on it, baby." 

If he couldn't smell the flowery punch of your perfume, or see the individual lashes that shield your waterline, he'd definitely think you were a dream. You're here, and you're talking to him like you like him, looking at him like you did, you cruel, awful thing, that day at Monsters of Rock when he'd pressed you up against a wall and kissed you until his lips burned. You'd kissed back. You'd responded, your lips pressing against his with more enthusiasm than made any sense. 

Now you're calling him baby and telling him secrets, your knees tucked together and the outside of your thigh warming a stripe under his jeans. It feels surreal. Your body heat is sinking into his skin. 

Somebody across the coffee table entices you into conversation. Eddie listens to you talk. Maybe high Eddie is a nicer guy than sober Eddie (unlikely), because you don't seem repulsed by his company. Considering how you left things, your little corner shop spat and his bruising kiss, he hadn't been expecting a warm welcome. 

"Did you–" he starts, insecure and hiding it as best as he can, fingers itching for a cigarette, for something to do, "did you like the flowers?" 

"You already asked me that." You peek down at his beer. "Could I have that?" 

He hands it over numbly. 

"It's not a good idea, you know? Drugs and drink, mixing them together. It messes with your heart," you tell him. 

"Don't act all innocent," he says. 

"No, I know, I'm not trying to lecture you 'cause I do shit I shouldn't do, but– you looked one bump from a heart attack. Seriously." 

"Why do you care?" 

You laugh. Your nose wrinkles. "I don't know." 

It's not the answer he wanted, but it's the one he deserves. 

He's spent weeks talking to himself, imagining conversations between you both. He's memorised defences, shamefully readied a few insults in case you'd prepared your own, but nothing comes to mind now. He's speechless. 

You drink his beer and he thinks about how his lips had been at the mouth of it not ten minutes ago. It shouldn't matter. You've already kissed him. It shouldn't. 

"I don't think I took what I meant to," he admits. 

"Me neither. Morgan said they've been cutting with procaine around the hills. Did you get super numb?" 

He can't remember. He doesn't want to talk about any of this with you. "I heard you on the radio." 

"You did?" 

"You were scared." 

"No." You tear the tab off of the beer and put it in his hand. "I like high Eddie, he’s honest." 

"I'm not, really…" 

"Should see your pupils." 

Maybe he is, then. That could explain why he keeps saying what he's thinking without pausing to check if it sounds cool. He has his defences up to the ceiling usually, wouldn't ever let you or anybody else in, not here. 

He's staring at you. 

You brush the side of his arm with your fingernails. 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asks. 

Your small smile flattens into a line. "I don't know, Eddie. Who are you gonna tell? Who'd believe you? As far as the tabloids and- and our friends are aware, we hate each other." 

"It didn't feel like you hated me." 

"I didn't."

"But you do now?" 

You stand up. Eddie gets caught in your smile, charming with something worse lurking beneath. You brush the hair out of his face and station your hands at the base of his neck, dropping your head toward his ear. 

"Not telling," you whisper.

He thinks for a moment you're gonna kiss him, his ear or his neck, but you scratch his scalp lightly and leave as he's getting to grips with the feeling of your breath against his skin. 

—

Dolly Floor, California, December 1990 

Dolly Floor is a club in West Hollywood frequented by movie stars. You're pretty sure you only get in because of Morgan's snow trail incident months ago, and you almost wish they'd sent you packing when you see how densely hedged it is inside. The temperature hikes up with every step you take inside, and soon Morgan's dropping your wrist in favour of one of her friends across the way, leaving you totally alone. 

You're dressed in too much clothing for the occasion, a dress with sleeves and a leather jacket that isn't yours, big boots to protect your feet from crushing crowds. Morgan had thrown a pair of kitten heels at you in frustration. For once you'd told her no. She's been oddly friendly lately, letting you do as you please with nothing more than an irritated huff, and so you've got tights and socks alike stuffed into your shoes — you're sick of aches and pains. 

If anybody steps on your toes tonight, you're going home. 

The air is thick with humidity, exhaled breath, the scent of alcohol explaining the stickiness under your footsteps. You don't know many people, but you know Dornie and, irritatingly, half of Corroded Coffin, so you beeline for the band where they're holed up at the back and hope one of them will give you a drink. 

There's gotta be thirty different people hanging out. How they can hear each other talk is a mystery. Dornie puts his arm out when he sees you and you slide into his side, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his pale cheek. 

"Careful," he says, "you'll make someone jealous." 

You're affectionate with Dornie 'cause he's nice. Just plain nice, which is hard to find in Hollywood. He's the very first friend you've made that's yet to break your heart, and better, he hasn't tried to sleep with you.

Not that you think you're some unresistable notch. 

"Who'd be jealous of me?" you ask. 

"Of me." He rubs your shoulder through leather. "It's good to see you, doll. Your chin's healing up nice, yeah? Or is it make-up?" 

He taps your chin. 

It unlocks a reluctant memory, the shadow of a different hand, heavy with intoxication but painstakingly gentle. 

"It's a bit of make-up," you admit, lifting your chin so he can see it. 

"Still, it's getting better. How are your knees?" 

Hiding behind your tights. "They're gnarly. Doesn't hurt to walk much now though." 

Dornie grins. He has a pretty smile with white wonky teeth and three lip rings on one side. His hair is shorn short, unlike most of the guys here rocking hair to the ears or even longer. His eyes are a light brown, emphasising the bruising bags under his eyes. He looks tired. 

"Don't look, but I'm getting some serious glarage from your favourite guitarist." 

"You're my favourite guitarist," you say, and you mean it. His arm is a comforting weight. It feels so good to have a friend. 

"Your second favourite." 

You step completely into Dornie's view and look up at him. "How's he look now?" 

"Chilling. Want me to guide you over to the bar like we're lovers?" 

"Don't say it like that." 

Dornie pulls you across the floor back to the bar, where blessed cool air seeps down from the air-conditioning and the drinks leave pools of condensation the second they're put down. Dornie buys you a mystery cocktail that tastes more like water than juice. You sip at it happily, using your more neutral vantage point to get a good look at Eddie. 

He's sprawled against a booth wall with one arm behind his head, a cigarette sending smoke up to the wall. He looks better than the last time you'd seen him. There's colour in his cheeks, though that might be the lighting. Dolly Floor is a strange venue, like a strip club without the workers, or a restaurant without food. It doesn't feel like a club, but there's a small stage around the corner from the bar where good music plays live, and it doesn't take much convincing for Dornie to come and watch the show with you for a bit. Some of his friends join you, a woman called Natalie, a man named Matfield, and they're both as nice as he is. 

"We heard the new record!" Matfield says across the high table, the golden watch on his wrist a beacon under the reflections of the harsh stage lights. 

"Hated it?" you ask. 

He chuckles. "All the screaming isn't for me, baby, but that shit doesn't matter. It was good. How's it doing?" 

"I honestly haven't looked," you say, opening your box of Newports and offering them out like candy. Everybody takes one. 

"Better not to know tonight," Natalie says agreeably, her perfect black hair curled toward her face like a seraphim shifting as she leans in for a light. "All you have to do is celebrate." 

You'd wanted, foolishly, to celebrate with the girls. Ananya had dipped as soon as she could and you get it, she has her own friends, but Morgan knocking the door of your room had been a great relief. If at least one of them wants to spend time with you, that's enough. Only, Morgan had made it clear as she was sifting through your clothes that she was going to try and find, "like, someone who's actually interesting." You'd taken it about half as personally as you would've a few months ago. 

Hence Dornie. You'd called him on the landlines and he'd said, "Yeah, babe, I'll meet you there." 

Thank whatever's watching for Dornie. 

He buys you another drink and then another, says your money's no good and tonight's about you. His friends are great, including you in all their jokes and smiles, and when the lights go down and the music gets louder you head out onto the glowing tiles and dance with them. 

Eddie finds you not long after. Slinking up from your peripherals, hand in his pocket. 

"What Eddie am I seeing tonight? The nice one?" 

Eddie doesn't flinch at your sudden question. "You look good." 

He'd approached from the left. You'd felt it rather than heard him, and you'd guessed right. He steps further into view, not smiling, not not smiling. He looks good too. 

"I heard the album." 

You hate how much you care. "Yeah?" 

"It was good. It wasn't metal, but it was good." 

You're laughing before he's even finished, turning away from him in a feigned sense of superiority. I don't care what you think. 

Eddie doesn't grab you. You wouldn't care if he did. He follows by your elbow and says, "Come on, you know it isn't." 

"Just 'cause it doesn't sound rooted in the 70s," you say with a smile. 

"That's the whole point. It's baseless, there's nothing traditional in it. It isn't metal, but it's rock, and it's good, and–" 

"Slow down, Munson. A girl'd think you liked her." 

"I'm objective." 

"You're not."

"I'm not, but my opinions are right. Everybody says that, but when I do it's true, so…"

You look at him properly. He looks present in a way he hasn’t before in front of you. There’s a total clarity behind his eyes that you yourself don’t have tonight. He looks sober. Not that you thought he was an addict, not that you didn’t. There’s a certain blasé attitude to substance abuse when you get a kick of fame. Everybody has something in their pocket and you’ll admit to buying into it, taking stuff you shouldn’t in unfamiliar places. You know, of course, that drugs are fucking dangerous. But you hadn’t been freaked out by them until the other night, when you bumped into Eddie outside of the bathroom in Dornie’s friend’s house and he hadn’t recognised you for a solid ten seconds. 

He’s chewing on nothing. 

“I didn’t do it to hold over you,” you say.

“What?”

“Look after you. It wasn’t… I mean, I wasn’t making fun of you. And I’m not gonna tell anybody.”

“Generous.” His eyes narrow subtly. 

“So if that’s what you’re doing.” You look down to his neck where a silver chain rests, thin, new and hidden under his shirt. “Checking to make sure, I’m not.”

“You think I’m here to make sure you don’t tattle?”

You’re too tipsy to feel embarrassed. “You’re here to buy me a drink, then. I want a cherry margarita with extra shiny cherries and all the salt on the rim, please. Please,” you add, because the second one hadn’t felt polite enough. 

Eddie nods and half turns. “Shiny cherry?” he asks. You almost miss it, his soft tone nearly lost in the noise.

“Maraschino… they’re pink.”

“You’re not gonna come with me?”

“Get lost often?” 

Eddie holds his hand out. You’re supposed to think of how his hand looks, his callouses, his rings, the cut across his thumb, the size and length of his fingers. You think about them enough when he isn’t around, but now, right now, your heart thuds against your chest. Your thoughts are a mess until they aren’t — hold his hand. You put your fingers against his palm and he squeezes them together like he’s collected them, tugging you out of the crowd and across the room to the slick black bar. 

You’re still angry with him. You’re wounded, knife to the gut and all the red blood because he’d been right, you’re a dog, you do what people tell you to, you’re doing it right now, but then he squeezes your hand with a light enough pressure that you’re sure you’ve imagined it until he does it again, leaning up against the bar as he gives your order. “Extra cherries,” he says to the barkeep with a smile, letting your hand go in favour of his own drink. 

The crowd surges with a new song and people brush your calves as they walk around you. You and Eddie stay at the bar. He sips on a bottle of water. You wait for your margarita. 

“Your cut’s healing up,” he says. 

You try not to notice your touching arms. “It was bad, right? It must’ve been. You felt so sorry for me,” —the words burn— “you sent me the biggest bouquet I’ve ever gotten in my life.”

“I didn’t feel sorry for you, sweetheart, can you read?”

“Between the lines, yes,” you say, nodding your head once, emphatic as you accept your margarita. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t feel sorry for you. Felt bad for you-“ He holds up a pale palm. “My fault an’ all, I’ll try to be less daydream worthy.”

“I wasn’t thinking about you. Did you see it? She tripped me up with her mic doing a shitty Stevie Nicks impression.”

“Wrong genre.”

You laugh at him. “Exactly! That’s the point.”

“Yeah, I saw it.” 

You raise your eyebrows. Eddie’s head tips forward and his hair hides his cheeks, the subtlest impression of his cheekbones lost to a curtain of curls. He twists one of his rings around his finger.

“She- You should be more careful,” he says. 

Everything’s raw with him, criticism most of all, but you’re feeling generous. You fish one of your shiny cherries from the margarita glass, surprised to find its stalk intact, and break the delicate skin between your teeth. You mull over what he’s saying as the sweet flavour aches in your jaw. You could’ve been more cautious. You’d been having fun, and you’d thought you could trust the people you work with to have your back. It was a little silly to assume; neither Morgan nor Ananya have ever shown you much second thought.

“Yeah, I think I should be,” you say finally, putting the cherry stalk in your mouth.

“What are you doing?”

You ignore him and try to tie a cherry stem knot. You keep trying until you think you’ve got it. You pull the stem from your tongue. 

“Shit,” you curse, glaring at the curved stem. “Thought I had it.”

Eddie grins and leans into your space, fingers quick to pinch a cherry from your margarita. 

He brings it to your mouth. You keep your lips pressed closed and search his face for a trick. Nothing peaks out, not a hint of cruelty to his pinked lips or flush of soft lashes. You try not to breathe as you open your mouth, and Eddie pushes the round of the cherry over your bottom lip slowly. 

You bite down. 

Eddie takes your stalk and places it on his own tongue. He closes his mouth, and within five seconds he’s taking out a knitted stem with a prideful buzz about him. Any smugness he’d held dissipates. He looks adorable. 

“Beat you,” he says. 

“Arrogant doesn’t suit you.”

“Arrogant absolutely suits me,” he argues, the corners of his lips twitching up, up, up. He’s smiling so much. He reminds you of somebody. “Sore loser doesn’t suit you.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“What’s that mean?”

“What’s that mean?” you repeat. “I smile at you across a stage set and you push me up against a wall.”

“Smile? That’s what you’d call that?”

You’re facing each other now. Eddie inches closer as he speaks, each word said with a precision that can’t be unpracticed. “I’m playing in front of near enough a hundred thousand people, kind of crowd I fucking dreamed of as a kid, in front of actual real life rockstars, and you stroll up to side stage dressed like–”

He cuts himself off. An olive branch. A stopper. A dam. His inhale infuriates you. 

“No, go on. Dressed like what, superstar?”

“Like a fucking groupie.” 

You know he’s only said it to try and get a rise out of you. He knows that you know. He looks like he wants to take it back. 

You want him to push it further. 

“And you liked it,” you say, angry. Quiet. “You liked it and you couldn’t get a handle on it.”

“No,” he says, knowing what you’re implying, voice hot and fast, “I kissed you because I knew you wanted me to. I knew what it would do to you.”

“I wanted you to?” you ask. 

“Didn’t you?”

“I wanted to mess with your head ‘cause you fucking harsssed me–”

He cuts you off, “You wanted to mess with me because you hated that I was right about you. Not everything, but enough. Those girls treat you like shit. And you let them, or you’ll be the next Millyana, sitting at home watching the rest of us on TV wondering why you couldn’t make it out.” Something in his expression flickers like a rubber band has struck his skin. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time, you mean it. You worked hard to get here, had people treat you a whole heap worse than Eddie’s hot and cold, than Ananya's indifference and Morgan’s narcissism. Hours in buses with your neck craned against a short ceiling scribbling music and days toeing the line with a guitar falling apart in your hands. You scrimped and saved and starved for this. 

Eddie smiles at you. For the second time that night, he looks like somebody else. 

“I know,” he says. “I think we’re finally on the same page.”

—

Eddie buys you another drink. Your tipsiness had felt so far away when things got heated, but now your bubbly smile is back, and you’re actually talking to him. About music, sure, but the movies, the weather, the fancy apartments the record company put you up in. 

“Finally got my own room so Ananya can stop complaining about the noise,” you say with a wink. 

He chokes on his water. “The noise?”

“I’m a very dedicated player.”

You let a small silence pervade before bursting into giggles, hand patting his upper arm. “I’m kidding! She gets mad ‘cos I’m trying to learn YYZ but it is so, so hard.”

“Shit is hard,” he says. “Do you even have time for that? You start touring again in a month, maybe you should, you know, slack off?”

“No, because if I’m doing nothing I’m nothing.”

Eddie — fuck fuck fuck — shouldn’t pry. 

“You’re not nothing.”

You wrinkle your nose at him and he loves when you do it. It’s not cute, really, but everything you do is cute in a way he refuses to unpack. “No, I’m not, I don’t know why I said that.”

“I get it, though. You feel like… maybe it's all gonna stop one day. Wake up with a bad case of the yips and no matter how good you were…”

“Yeah.” You take a very noisy slurp of margarita. “I’m so afraid that I’m gonna be nothing that I can’t stop.”

Eddie throws his gaze around the room. It’s no coincidence that your friend Dornie keeps looking his way; the night is winding down and there’s barely anybody dancing. It’s home time. 

“You won’t be nothing,” he says, easing the margarita out of your hands. He might’ve bought you one too many. “I’m sorry for, uh, getting you drunk.”

“I got myself at least three parts there. Out of five.”

“At least three parts,” he agrees.

He wants, very badly, to touch your face. Hold your cheek in his palm. “Hey,” he says lightly. “Uh, you got something. On your cheek.”

You brush your dewy skin with an embarrassed look about you, shoulder risen and eyes all droopy with booze. “Here?”

“Higher.”

He watches you scrub at nothing. He’s tricking you. He feels awful. 

“Still haven’t got it?”

“‘Fraid not, baby.”

“You get it.” You brandish your cheek.

Eddie keeps a good distance. He knows what he’s doing is weird, he just wants to touch you for a second. He rubs the pad of his thumb down your face, tracing the path of a tear you haven’t shed. Eye to chin. 

“You’re good,” he says, dropping his hand. 

“Thank you.”

You’re slurring. He thinks you’re more tired than you are tipsy (though you are, undeniably, inebriated), and he wonders where all the time went, how it’s suddenly been an hour with you and your conversation. There’d been a moment where he thought he’d fucked it and your eyes had shone with hurt, but you’re smiling, he’s smiling, and Dornie looks aggrieved. All good things.

“I think you better get going,” he murmurs. 

“Sick of me?” you ask, not teasing. 

“No. Your friend’s waiting for you.” 

You look over your shoulder and your smile glows. You start babbling about how that’s your friend Dornie (he knows, you’ve only told him five times) and how Dornie is sooooo nice. You deserve somebody being nice to you right from the start. Eddie’s trying to make it right but he’s said some shit he can’t take back. He wants you to have someone who’s a hundred percent sweet on you, he just doesn’t wanna have to hear the adoration in your voice when you talk about it. 

Eddie’s a dick. Self-admitted. 

You go home with an arm looped around Dornie’s waist. (Dornie said high-pitched, wide-eyed.) Eddie pulls a handful of bills from his wallet to pay for the drinks he’d bought, stuffing the change in a tip jar on the way back to the dregs of the coffin crew. Jamison’s long gone and Jeff didn’t wanna come, but Gareth’s smoking a cigarette with another guy’s hand mysteriously lapward. 

He clears his throat. “I’m going home and taking the car.”

“Wait for me?”

Eddie cringes. “Sure.”

Eddie sits in the car. One hand on the wheel, the other in his pocket. He thinks about tonight, your hair, your smile, the way your arm had brushed up against his. He wonders if this is the right move. Eddie’s not mad at you anymore for forgetting who he was, for your teasing at the Prover Theatre or your rookie comments. And Monsters of Rock, that had been half spite and half bravado. Spur of the moment bravery. Idiocy. Yeah he’d kissed you to piss you off, but he’d also done it because he wanted to. 

He sighs and takes your discarded pull tab out of his pocket. He thumbs the rounded edge, thinking harder than one guy should ever think about anything that isn’t metal. Shit, he thinks. I gotta go home.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

note: they are not done hating each other I am just warming up! thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed <3

[solarmorrigan]

Actually infertile omega!Steve for the WIP ask thing

Y'know what, you're the only person who's asked about this and this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I don't think I'm ever going to develop it past this point, so! I'm just gonna give you the whole thing

Fair warning, I did write this in the midst of an anxiety attack sometime after one in the morning. It's been edited! But that's pretty much the vibe

[CW: ableism, internalized ableism, uh... sexism? is that a thing I need to warn for in omegaverse? I dunno, it pretty closely mirrors real-world misogynistic views, so heads up]

-

Give me omega Steve who genuinely will never be able to have children. Who is tentatively excited after the Upside Down and Vecna and everything to get out from under his parents' influence and stop taking the harsh, heavy-duty suppressants that he was too young to have ever really been on in the first place and to get to actually be who he is. To get to freely express his designation

And instead he finds out that his body is fucked up and he'll never have a normal fertility cycle and he'll never be able to have kids

Give me Steve being told by a shitty, prejudiced doctor that it's basically all his fault for all the damage he's done to his own body over the years - the head injuries, the broken bones, the mysterious flesh wounds. Clearly these things upset the balance of his Delicate Omega Body and that's why his reproductive system is all fucked up (couldn't possibly have been the extended use of those suppressant drugs during his developmental years, oh no)

And Steve isn't exactly devastated at first, but he does feel ashamed. He only admits what's happened to Robin and no one else, and no matter how indignant she gets on his behalf, no matter how hard she tries to push him to get a second opinion, he refuses. He doesn't want to hear how bad he's fucked up from anyone else, thank you very much

The devastation dawns on him later, in stages. It occurs to him slowly what he'll never be able to do, the ways in which he'll always be othered by a society that often still values omegas for their fertility, the way his dream of a big family has been completely shattered

And it occurs to him that he'll never be considered a good mate, damaged in so many ways, unable to even offer children in exchange for whatever other shortcomings he has - which means that as soon as Eddie starts showing interest in him, he has to shut it down as quickly as possible

Because of course Eddie's going to want a family one day, and Steve thinks he'll be a great alpha and a great dad, and he deserves that - he deserves someone who can give him that, who can give him all the things A Good Omega should. So no matter how much Steve wants to be with Eddie, no matter how safe and at ease he feels around him, he can't let Eddie think he's a viable option, and pulls away

And Eddie - well, look, if Steve really doesn't want him, then he'll respect that. He can take no for an answer. But Steve has never really given him a clear no so much as he just started distancing himself. Making himself unavailable, no longer sitting next to Eddie when the whole group hangs out, no longer unconsciously curling into his side on movie nights, just - ghosting, essentially. And that, Eddie will not take

So he confronts Steve; he's not aggressive about it, of course, but he makes it clear that he's not leaving until he gets a straight answer. Tells Steve he's been getting some real mixed signals, and does he want Eddie or not?

Steve says Eddie doesn't want him. Eddie calls bullshit. Of course he wants Steve, he's never wanted anything, anyone, in his life like he wants Steve

But if Steve can look Eddie in the eye and tell him that he doesn't want to be with Eddie, then Eddie will go

And Steve - he's never been a good liar. Not when it comes to feelings. He's never been able to lie about that, so he breaks down and admits the truth, instead: he's a fucked up excuse for an omega, he can't have kids, he doesn't really even know how to do the social shit omegas are supposed to know how to do, so. There. So Eddie shouldn't want him

And Eddie is horrified. Not because Steve is "broken," but because of all the hurt he's taken on over the years, because of the way he seems to think it's all his fault, because he thinks his only worth as a mate is in bearing kids or caring for others. As if anything like that would put Eddie off - as if Steve has nothing else to offer

It's a slow process, after that, getting Steve to accept that he's desirable for who he is and not what he can do

It starts with Robin and Eddie teaming up on Steve and eventually getting him to go to another doctor, a better doctor, who promises Steve that what happened to his system is in no way his fault. It goes on with constant reassurance, which Eddie never minds providing (dramatic little shit honestly loves the opportunity to wax rhapsodic about whatever he loves, which very much includes Steve), with an unconditional acceptance from the rest of the group, with the realization that Steve already has a big family (and multiple children; like, seriously. how did he miss that. Eddie loves to tease him about it)

And eventually, when they're ready, it goes on still with the promise that they can adopt, or consider surrogacy, or just kidnap their friends' pups (Steve laughs at the last one, but Eddie notices that he doesn't say no). There is no right way to do it, no perfect way; as long as Steve just keeps being himself, Eddie will never be disappointed

[99hook]

Heartbreak Diaries

A/N: it’s been a minute y’all. This is something I wrote a little while back about the lovely stages of heartbreak. Sorry if you relate, and as always I hope you enjoy babes, and remember that healing isn’t linear.

For months, she was trapped in a fever dream. A realm border lining delusion, and anyone could’ve told her that but it was no use. She wasn’t going to listen when all her mind was wrapped up in were thoughts of him.

Despite how many times she had to lie to the ones that she loved, trying to convince everyone that he wasn’t who he appeared to be. He wasn’t as bad as what he may have seemed.

Despite all the tears she’d cried for him, always over the same thing because he’d made so many empty promises to change for her, and for some reason she believed him every single time.

Despite all the red flags waving directly in her face every time he got angry, caught up in his own lies, or he spewed dishonesty so smoothly that he could convince anyone of anything imaginable, and she knew that.

She still stuck with him, holding on as tight as she possibly could’ve. The equivalent to wrapping your bare hands around barbed wire until you eventually lose all feeling, and the damage leaves you numb to it all. Only then did she finally let go.

There’s only so much that one person can take before they finally decide to break the chains that are binding them, but all the memories come flooding back and it’s hard to decipher if you genuinely miss that person, or just the person that you wanted them to be.

It wasn’t her fault that she had seen the good in him. He was amazing at putting on a face, but eventually the mask started to slip and what lied beneath the soft brown eyes and charming smile, was never something that she had expected.

Anyone else probably could’ve seen it coming from a mile away, but they didn’t know him in the most intimate moments. There was a delicacy to him that he’d shown her, almost as if he was an old soul deep within, but he covered all of that with a hard, cold shell.

She’d asked him why he rarely showed that side of him, he’d always say, “It’s easier this way.” But in the earliest hours of the morning, when they would be cuddled up underneath her bedsheets just talking about anything their minds could muster up, she’d get that side of him.

Even though when the sun would rise his cold exterior would activate like clockwork, she would hold onto that little sliver of hope that maybe she could break down those walls once and for all. The empath in her was drawn to the darkness within him, and the little shimmers of light that shined through a few cracks in his shell.

Looking back now, she knows that was her first mistake. Thinking you can heal someone who doesn’t want to be healed. Thinking you can teach someone how to love when they never got to see what it truly meant to love or to be loved correctly.

But at the time, you couldn’t tell her that. She was content where she was at, wrapped up in his strong arms with her head on his chest listening to him tell her stories about his childhood and his high school best friend until they both drifted off to sleep. That’s where she wanted to be, but she wasn’t the only one.

The same fingers that were tracing little hearts on her back belonged to the same hands that would be wrapped up in another woman’s hair the night before. The same lips that were kissing her forehead were the same lips that were leaving patches on another woman’s neck.

She didn’t know it at the time, and he didn’t have the nerve to tell her until his guilt got the best of him. His stories rarely added up when he had planned to stay with her for three days and suddenly had to be back home a day early for work.

She had a weird feeling in her gut, which she tried to fight against. He’d look her in the eyes, cradle her face and kiss her with so much passion before he’d leave, promise to call her as soon as he lands and she believed him.

She never would’ve expected that he’d be making a stop to another woman’s house as soon as he left her. While she’s checking her phone, waiting for a call, wondering if he’s okay, he’s letting someone else kiss him, touch him, taste him with her fresh on his lips.

When she finally found out, she felt like a dumbass. The signs had been there, even her best friend had called them out multiple times. She just didn’t listen. She wanted to believe that the man she thought he was, was the man she was truly falling for.

He groveled and he begged for days for forgiveness. He swore it was all a mistake, and he would never do anything like that again. He came clean about everything, and made so many promises that if she gave him another chance, he would show her just how much he loves her.

So she did, and for a little while, he did keep his word to her. He started to open up to her about all the things that he kept locked deep inside. He gave her all his time and his attention, surprised her a couple times just to see her smile when she opened the door and he was standing there with a bouquet of white roses and a boyish grin on his face.

She struggled to put everything behind her though. Maybe it was because of how easy it was to trust him at first. He had something about him that just made her feel so at ease, like they’d known each other for so many years already.

Once that trust was broken, they could never be the same again. She couldn’t help but to ask him about his plans just to see if his story was going to change. She questioned everything he said. She compared herself to this other woman, wondering why she wasn’t enough for him herself. Truth of the matter is, she was going crazy and he didn’t like it too much.

They started fighting a lot. It went from being so excited to see each other, making up for lost time to immediately glaring at each other as soon as their eyes locked.

He used to have a gleam that shined in his eyes every time he looked at her, but it died. She noticed that when they were getting ready to go out on a date, and the silence in her room was speaking volumes.

He used to compliment her every chance he got. He’d say something like, “Do you know how gorgeous you are?” Before he’d wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her forehead, her nose, her cheeks and finally her lips.

He stopped doing that, and she missed it but her pride was always her biggest downfall. She put on a nice outfit, probably not a coincidence that it was one of his favorite dresses on her, but when he looked at her, his eyes were practically lifeless.

She stood a few feet away from him, smoothing down the end of her dress while she watched his eyes slowly roam her body, just for him to tilt his head to the side and stuff his hands in his pockets, mumbling “So you ready?”

She started to realize that things were only getting worse from that point on. He didn’t kiss her the same, touch her the same, even look at her with any sense of love or adoration like he did before.

It started to eat away at her, and that only fueled her craziness, or so he called it.

One night they were sitting on the couch watching a movie in silence. He was sitting a few inches away from her and the small space between them was enough to make her feel like they were a hundred miles apart. He used to always have his hands on her somehow, but that all changed so quickly.

In an attempt to try to feel closer, she turned towards him and said, “Hey, can we talk for a second?”

He didn’t immediately respond. He was silent as he paused the movie and dropped the remote on his lap. He didn’t turn to face her, and only hummed back to her.

She avoided the pain that it caused, and pushed forward with the conversation anyway.

“I just feel like we haven’t really been as close as we used to be.” She started, and already saw the tick of his jaw.

“Yeah?” Was all he said, lolling his head to the side to finally look at her, his eyes casting pure boredom.

“Yeah.” She whispered back. “I miss you.”

“You don’t act like it.” He told her, and she felt a jab in her gut because she knew it. She knew that she was the biggest reason why they were having so many arguments and so many problems, but she was still hurt by what he did, and she still had too many questions left unanswered.

“I want to.” She sighs. “But I’m still struggling with everything that happened.”

As soon as he heard those words, he was getting off the couch with a huff, storming to the bedroom and slamming the door behind him. She sat there dumbfounded, staring at that door and waiting for him to walk back out, maybe after he cooled down he’d be ready to have a conversation, but thirty minutes went by and he never came back.

She found him sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He didn’t look up at her when she walked in.

“I don’t want to fight, Tyler.” She told him in the most gentle voice she could manage in hopes that it would dissipate the tensions, but it didn’t.

“Then why do you always start your shit with me?” His eyes snapped up to hers, and she could see the anger bursting through them.

“I don’t try to start a fight but there’s still some things that bother me-“

“And how many times am I supposed to say I’m fucking sorry?” He snapped back. “How many times have I told you that already? If you’re still stuck on that shit and you can’t get over it then maybe you just don’t need to be with me anymore.”

That was the last thing she wanted though. She just wanted to know that he wasn’t going to betray her trust again. She wanted to trust him and for things to go back to the way they used to be.

So that’s what she tried to do. She apologized for all the times that she brought it up, and from that point forward she never brought anything related to the other woman up again. It still fucked with her, but she wasn’t going to let him see that.

And surprisingly, they started doing better again. They started laughing with each other again, going out and having a good time with one another. He started complimenting her and kissing her every chance he could. Things had gotten better again, and even though she still couldn’t fully trust him, she acted like she did.

And then, he ruined it once and for all.

It was completely out of the blue when she woke up one morning with a text from him. It was a long paragraph but she only got through the first couple of words before she realized that he was breaking up with her.

He had said so much about how they had hurt each other and needed to grow apart in order to come back stronger in the future, but her heart told her it was all bullshit. She knew it, her best friend knew it, he just didn’t have the guts to give it to her straight.

She was exhausted by this point. She didn’t try to fight for him or what they had, even though she really wanted to. She just let him have it his way. Summer was coming up and she had the feeling that he just wanted to have a fun little summer without being tied down. Everything else he said was just a way of letting her down easy.

The craziest part of all of that was the fact that when she accepted it, and she didn’t try to fight for him, suddenly he wanted to be with her again.

He showed up to her house in the pouring rain with wet puppy dog eyes like he thought it was some kind of movie. He sent her letters when she blocked his number and found every little way to communicate with her.

Of course, she gave in to him one night when all the memories came flooding back. He came over and they danced to a couple slow songs in the kitchen. He told her he loved her and he’d do anything to make it work with her, but he just wanted to get her back underneath the bedsheets, and unfortunately he knew all the right ways to do it.

The way he looked at her in the morning, like he was conflicted and didn’t know what to do. She asked him something that had been weighing on her heart since he left her, and for once, he gave her honesty.

“Are you trying to choose between me and someone else?” The words burned when they danced on her tongue. She knew the answer, because why else would he be in her bed trying to figure it all out otherwise.

He looked at her with eyes that softened, a hint of sympathy glazing over them before he looked down at the sheets draped over his stomach.

His silence was the confirmation that she needed.

It hurt like hell to be sitting next to the man that she loved, knowing that he didn’t love her, but he knew just how to make her think he did.

It killed her inside knowing that when he leaves, he’ll just be running into someone else’s arms. He’ll be weighing his options, writing out a little pros and cons list in his head and seeing which one of the women checks the most boxes.

Never in her life had she felt so destroyed emotionally, mentally and physically. She couldn’t do it anymore. She didn’t deserve it and he didn’t deserve her.

“I’ll just make it easy for you.” She whispered, waiting for him to look back into her eyes, but he couldn’t.

“It’s not like that.” He shook his head, but she didn’t believe anything else he said. She couldn’t allow herself to.

“If you’re choosing between two women at once, just let them both go. No woman deserves to be in competition for a man. If a woman is the love of your life, then it wouldn’t even be a question for you.”

His lips parted but he didn’t speak. His chest heaved and he stared down at the sheets, unable to conjure up anything to say back to that.

It remained silent in that room for a while, until he finally looked over at her and grabbed her hand.

“I wanna be with you. Just you.” He said, but as soon as he leaned in to kiss her, she turned her cheek.

He froze, his lips grazing her skin. His hand slowly slipped out of hers and he dropped his head down to her shoulder.

She had to fight back the tears. She couldn’t look at him. Even the feeling of the ends of his hair tickling her skin made her want to burst into tears, but she knew what was best and she knew she had to let him go.

“I’m not an option anymore.” She whispered. “I never should have been in the first place. If you wanted me and only me, then you never would’ve gotten with anyone else.”

He sighed heavily, reached up and wiped a tear off his cheek before he picked his head up. His eyes were tinged red and eyelashes wet, a sight that cracked her heart in two, but she couldn’t let that change her choice.

They looked into each others eyes for the last time. All the memories they made, all the late nights they shared, all the promises they never got to live up to. It all came crashing down on the same bed they used to make so much love in.

He sighed once more before he tore his eyes off of her and silently got out of the bed. She didn’t watch as he slid on his sweatpants and grabbed his keys and his phone off her dresser. She didn’t want to watch him walk out of her life, making it look so damn easy while she was internally crumbling to pieces.

All she did was wait until she heard the front door close, and she buried herself in the same sheets that smelled like him, crying and sobbing and feeling sorry for herself until she finally fell asleep.

And then, when she woke up, she stripped the bed of all of the sheets and the comforter and the pillows and she threw them in the washing machine with way too much laundry detergent.

She took those white roses off the kitchen counter and threw them in trash. She did her best to erase every trace of him, and even though she knew his memory was going to be the last to go, she wasn’t going to let herself sink any deeper than she already had.

It was time to heal and move on, and hope that one day he’d just be a boy she dated in her 20s.

————

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