#i hope i remember to just block people that are reblogged from that have takes i don't like

[agentemo]

yeah i need a break from tumblr

i really like taylor swift's music

as a person of color living in poverty, i am privvy to all the ways she sucks

i am seeing her live in 5 months

see you wednesday for dimension 20

[python333]

hi! i’m not sure if you’re taking requests atm but if you aren’t feel free to ignore this!

anyways, i was thinking what would it be like if you were back on base and did something nice for everyone and made their fave coffee/tea while you’re all relaxing after a long mission? like how would the 141 react and what would you make for them?

that’s all but i hope you have a great day and i absolutely love your writings!! they seriously are so detailed and amazing, you do a beautiful job w each one💌

unwind — python333

— — — —

synopsis the 141 + you are back from a super long mission and u make them their fave coffee/tea!!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

word count 3.6k

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], gaz being a little shit.

note thank you so much for the req!! i am taking them right now, but apologies if i post them 2+ days after i get them, my writers block is slowly creeping back into my mind and im fighting it off the best i can! also, thank you for the compliments :3 ilysm youre too nice!! i saw ur reblog of bedbound too and i was so sjdfksdfks!! hope u have a good day too and hope you enjoy this fic, it's all fluff and way too in depth descriptions of making tea/coffee!!

As soon as the electric kettle clicks, signaling to you that the water inside of it has been boiled, you unplug it and pour the water into a mug you’d pulled from the cabinets. It still surprised you that there were any mugs left, with how many people kept stealing to put on their desk to hold pencils—by people, you mean Soap, and only Soap—but you weren’t complaining. 

You set the kettle back down once the mug is filled up just an inch below the brim and grab the tea bag you’d grabbed earlier, wrapping the string around the handle of the mug a few times before putting the bag itself into the water. Almost immediately, you see small tendrils of dark brown flow out from the drowned tea bag into the originally clear water. 

As that happens, you walk the small few steps over to the small fridge from the kettle and open it, grabbing the small carton of cream and closing the fridge shut. You walk back over to the mug and unscrew the cap of the carton, pouring some cream into the mug, adding a half inch of height to the liquid already in the mug before screwing the cap back on and setting the carton down.

You don’t bother to grab a spoon and mix anything yet, instead reaching over to the small terracotta container beside the coffee machine that contained sugar, and taking off the lid. 

You think for a moment if you should grab a spoon for this, but ultimately decide against it, instead just tipping the container over the mug and letting what you hope is two teaspoons of sugar spill over into the mug.

Afterwards, you put the lid back on the container holding the sugar and set it back next to the coffee machine, and grab the cream to put back into the fridge. 

Once the cream’s been put back, you open the drawers in the counter and grab a small spoon, one that’s just tall enough that it won’t be fully submerged in the tea, and put it into the mug.

You close the drawer and give the tea a few stirs before picking up the mug, being careful of the scalding heat and holding it solely by its handle. You carefully walk out of the snack bar extension of the kitchen and head towards Price’s office. 

After a year or two of working with him, you’ve learned a lot about his tea preferences—he likes Yorkshire tea, the original one, not the gold. He only likes cream and sugar in his coffee, just to make it smoother and make it a bit sweeter, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

You vaguely remember him telling you he’d never had honey or any other sweeteners besides a bit of sugar in his tea, and remember more vividly you thinking, God, that’s such an old person thing to say, but not saying it out loud. 

Once you’ve reached his office, you knock a few times and Price’s tired voice calls out, “Come in!” 

You open the door, careful to keep the mug from spilling in your hands, and walk in, closing the door behind you. Price looks up from his computer, presumably writing a report on the mission you’d all just come back from an hour or two ago, and offers a small smile when he sees you. He’s about to say something before he catches sight of the mug in your hands. 

“Did you…” He doesn’t finish his question, but you know what he was about to ask, and you nod in response. 

“If it’s too sugary let me know,” You tell him, setting the mug down a safe distance away from his computer, “I can remake it.” 

“I won’t make you remake it,” Price looks at you, almost offended, “You didn’t have to make me anything in the first place, but thank you, I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem,” You hum, walking away, saying over your shoulder, “Hope you like it.” 

You open the door without another word and walk out, closing it behind you, heading right back to the snack bar. Now for Soap. 

Soap typically preferred coffee to tea, despite tea’s popularity in Scotland. He’d told you that he really couldn’t taste the difference between different coffee blends, but upon hearing that there was a Scottish blend, he declared he’d only drink that one, because of course he did. 

He pretended he could tell if the coffee he was drinking was of that Scottish blend, but you knew he couldn’t. How did you know? You’d only ever given him Scottish roast once. Every other time since then, it’s been French roast. 

He’s never really used a coffee machine for himself, going to cafes or coffee shops most of the time for coffee, keeping his usual coffee order written in his notes app because he couldn’t remember it for the life of him.

He’d sometimes modify his order if certain coffee shops didn’t do certain things that he usually got, but his order stays mostly the same every time he gets coffee. Medium (or grande, if he’s at Starbucks) latte with a double shot of espresso. 

Typically, he’d get some shortbread too, but you didn’t really have any in the base, so he’d have to do without it today. 

Once you enter the snack bar, you grab another mug from the cabinets above the counter and place it under the coffee machine. You open the cabinets right by the ones that contained the mugs and grab a bag of ground French roast, pulling it out and putting it on the counter. 

You open it up and find that there’s conveniently already a small cup in there to scoop the coffee grounds up, and use your free hand to grab a new coffee filter from the same cabinets you got the coffee grounds from, swiftly putting it into the machine. 

You use your other hand to scoop up some coffee grounds and put them into the filter, closing the top of the coffee machine afterwards and turning on the machine. You’re grateful there’s more options listed on the small digital screen that lights up on the machine than just plain black coffee, not really in the mood to try and steam milk right now.

You tap on the ‘latte’ option and watch as the screen changes and hear the coffee machine start to whir. 

As it does that, you put away the coffee grounds and open up the cabinets that contained mugs once again, pulling out a small espresso glass and setting it onto the counter.

You wait patiently for the coffee to brew, and once you hear the small beep sound from the machine that signals that it’s done, you pull away the steaming hot coffee and set it down right next to the coffee machine. 

You quickly put the espresso glass under the machine and start it up again, this time tapping the ‘espresso shot’ option—surprised that’s even an option, honestly—and hearing the familiar whirring noise start up again. It doesn’t take nearly as long as brewing the latte did, the small beep coming much sooner than it did just a minute or two earlier, and you pull away the small espresso glass from the machine almost immediately after you hear it. 

You pause for a moment, looking at how much the latte part had filled up the mug, and look around for a moment before opening up the same drawer that contains the eating utensils and grabbing a straw, putting the straw in the still hot latte—is that a good idea? No. Did you do it anyway because you physically can’t think before you act? Absolutely—and taking a long sip of it.

You pull the straw out once the liquid in the mug is at a good inch below the brim and then pour in the espresso shot, setting the glass down after you do so.

You look around for a second for a trash bin and find one just a few steps away from you, quickly throwing out the straw you’d used and then walking back over to the empty espresso glass, picking it up and setting it down by the sink. God forbid we get a dishwasher in here or something, You think absentmindedly as you pick up the mug and carefully walk out of the snack bar with it, Would it hurt to at least get some dish soap in here or something? 

You make it out of the snack bar without burning your fingers and start the much longer walk to Soap’s sleeping quarters. You’d caught him walking out of his office in that direction earlier, so you can only assume that he’d gone there. 

Once you make it there, you knock on the door a few times and wait for Soap to call out to you and allow you to come in before twisting the door knob and opening the door. He’s laying on his back on his bed, thumb paused on his phone screen as he looks over at you as you enter. He notices the coffee and sits up a bit, grunting as he does. 

He wasn’t really as talkative after long missions like the one you’d all been on earlier—usually it took him a day or two to be more social and back to himself, so you didn’t take much offense to him not greeting you as loudly as he usually did. 

He nods at the coffee, “Is that for me?” 

“Mhm,” You hum, handing him the mug, “Be careful, it’s hot.” 

“Got it,” Soap carefully takes the mug into his hands, and softly blows on it before looking at you again and grinning at you, “Weel, thank ye for this. Ye really didnae hae tae.” 

“Price actually said the same thing,” You muse, almost to yourself, before speaking a little louder, “No problem.”

“Oh did he?” Soap asks, raising an eyebrow, before his expression shifts and he feigns confusion, “Wait, how come he got a drink afore me?”

“Because his office was closer to the snack bar,” You explain, crossing your arms. 

“… Nae, it’s definitely ‘cause ye hate me,” Soap disagrees, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “And tae think I thought we were friends.” 

“It is no— you know what?” You begin to argue, before sighing and rolling your eyes, “I do hate you, and we were never friends, you ungrateful piece of shit.” 

Soap laughs, quieter than he usually does but it’s still a genuine laugh. He looks down at the coffee again and back at you, before saying, “Thank ye. Again.” 

“No problem,” You replied, walking back towards the door and opening it, walking out of Soap’s sleeping quarters and closing the door behind you. Now for Ghost. 

Ghost typically liked tea more than coffee, but you think that’s just the British in him talking. Realistically, you could give him either or, and he’d say a polite ‘thank you’ and move on.

From years of being apart of the 141, any preferences or additives he liked to put in his tea or coffee slowly dissipated and instead he just drank either one plain. Which should make the tasks you’ve forced yourself to do today easier, but knowing you, you just couldn’t take the easy route with this. 

You remember a conversation with him that happened several months ago where you had been talking about your own tea and coffee preferences. Ghost had commented that he didn’t often put any additives in his own hot drinks anymore, but back before he’d joined the military, he liked to drink keemun tea occasionally with nutmeg in it. 

Keemun tea—which was fucking expensive by the way, costing around sixteen pounds for twenty tea bags in every store you could find them in—wasn’t too hard to find, so the next time you went on leave after that conversation, you’d bought a box of bags of keemun tea leaves and some ground nutmeg. 

You didn’t let Ghost know about it, and kind of forgot about it just a week after you bought it, but now the memory of you buying it and storing it in the snack bar behind a few other boxes of tea bags has resurfaced and it’s the only thing you think is appropriate to give Ghost at a time like this. 

You get back to the snack bar and almost robotically you pull a mug out from the cabinets above the counter and set it down on said counter, deciding to grab another one just so that you wouldn’t have to do it later, and setting that one down right next to the other. You open the cabinet beside that and move some of the boxes out of the way to find the keemun tea box in the very back, right where you last left it. 

You snatch it out of the cabinet and open it, pulling out a small packet and opening it up to pull out the tea bag inside. You go ahead and put the tea bag inside of the mug and put the tea box back in the cabinet, closing the small cabinet door afterwards.

You then grab the electric kettle that’s right by the sink and pop open the lid, putting it under the faucet and turning said faucet on, waiting until the water fills a quarter of the kettle. Once it does, you turn off the faucet and put the kettle down right by the outlet on the wall. 

You put the lid down and wait for it to click into place before you plug the kettle into the outlet and press the small button below the handle to turn it on, and listen as it starts to make a small whirring noise. You don’t waste too much time just standing there, waiting for the water to finish boiling, instead putting the other mug you’d pulled out from the cabinets under the coffee machine and turning it on. 

You tap on the ‘decaf flat white’ option and watch the digital screen change and another whirring sound starts up, now coming from the coffee machine.

You were starting to make Gaz’s while making Ghost’s drink because Gaz often made the mistake of drinking his coffee before it was cool enough to not burn his tongue, so if you made it earlier, it’d have more time to cool, and Gaz wouldn’t have to wait as long before drinking it, therefore solving the whole ‘burning-his-tongue-because-he’s-impatient’ problem he has. 

Gaz liked simple flat whites, and sure, he liked tea too, but nothing could top a good flat white for him. He’d get them anywhere and everywhere he can, and you honestly admire his dedication to getting a flat white everywhere he goes. 

The coffee machine finished up quickly, a small beep sounding from the machine as it stopped its whirring and a few more drops of coffee made it into the mug before it completely stopped. You pull the mug out from under the machine and set it aside for now, just waiting for the water to finish boiling in the kettle. 

Once the kettle clicks and the whirring from that machine stops, you unplug it and pour some water into the empty mug you’d picked out for Ghost, waiting until it’s filled up about a half inch below the brim of the mug before taking the kettle away from the mug and pouring the rest of the unused water into the sink. 

You set the kettle down beside the coffee machine where it belongs and check the drawer below the one that held the eating utensils, looking through some of the spices and drink additives in it before finally finding the ground nutmeg you needed. 

You unscrew the cap and tilt the small spice jar over the mug, letting some of the powder spill into the mug before tilting it back and screwing the cap back on. You put it back in its spot and close that drawer, now opening the drawer above it and grabbing a small spoon, closing that one after you’ve grabbed the spoon and putting the spoon into the mug to mix the spices in it around a bit. 

You leave Gaz’s mug on the counter, hoping that nobody steals it while you’re away, and instead pick up the mug meant for Ghost, carefully walking out of the snack bar with it. 

Ghost’s office is fairly far away, but you still manage to get there without burning your fingers or anything on the mug. You knock on the door a few times and wait for Ghost to call out permission for you to come in before you open the door and walk in. 

Ghost immediately looks over at you and spots the mug in your hand, but ignores it for now, instead opting to ask, “Did you need something, [c/n]?” 

“Not really,” You shrugged the best you could while holding scalding hot tea, “Just needed to give you this.” 

You set the mug down on Ghost’s desk before he can say another word, and watch as he eyes the mug with curiosity and confusion. 

“What’s this?” He asks, carefully picking up the mug, holding the top up to his nose to smell it. Before you can answer his question, you see his eyes widen and he questions a little louder, “Is this… keemun? With nutmeg?” 

“You can tell just from the smell?” You ask, mildly impressed, watching as Ghost’s gaze turns into one more in awe of the mug. 

“Yes, I can,” He mumbles, smelling the brim of the mug again, before looking over at you, “How did you know I liked keemun with nutmeg in it?” 

“You told me about it, like, a few months ago. Six months ago, maybe? I dunno.” 

“How do you remember a conversation from six months ago?”

“It was an important conversation, I guess?” You shrug, crossing your arms. 

You watch in silence as Ghost eyes the tea and you take that as your sign to leave, walking towards the door, stopping right in front of it to twist the knob to open it before you’re interrupted by Ghost. 

“Wait—” You turn your head and look at him over your shoulder, and immediately upon seeing his face, you think, oh my God is he tearing up? “Thank you, [c/n]. I really appreciate it.” 

You offer a small smile and reply, “Yeah, no problem. Enjoy your tea.” 

You open the door without another word and close it behind you, taking a deep breath before continuing down the hall back to the snack bar. 

You’re relieved when you get there and see the mug, still steaming a bit, still on the counter. You quickly walk over to it and pick it up, walking right back out the door with it and heading straight for Gaz’s sleeping quarters. You remember him being so tired from the mission—you don’t know whether to hope he’s asleep and getting some rest, or to hope that he’s awake so you can properly hand him his coffee. 

Once you make it to his sleeping quarters, you knock on the door, and there’s no response for a few moments, making you think he might actually be asleep, but then you hear Gaz’s drowsy voice call out, “You can come in!” 

You open the door and see him rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up on his bed, looking over at you. His lips twitch up into a small smile once he sees you and he lets his hand drop into his lap. 

“Hey, [c/n].” He looks over at the mug you’ve brought with you, before raising an eyebrow, “You brought something for me?” 

“Very bold of you to assume it’s for you,” You close the door behind you and walk closer to him, “But yes, it is.” 

Gaz perks up a bit at that and happily takes the mug off of your hands once you hand it to him, and his smile grows significantly bigger once he sees you’ve brought him a flat white. 

“It’s decaf, don’t worry,” You say, as if reading his mind, “I figured you’d still want some sleep after drinking it.” 

“Always so considerate,” Gaz sighs teasingly, raising the mug to his lips like you’d thought he would. Thankfully, his tongue doesn’t burn this time after he sips the coffee, and you let out a small sigh of relief at the fact. 

“You know me,” You respond dryly, crossing your arms as you watch Gaz take a few more sips of the coffee. 

“Thank you for this, by the way,” Gaz thanks you, taking another sip of the coffee before stating, “I hope you know you’re my favorite now.” 

“Your favorite what?” 

“Just my favorite, in general,” Gaz hums, “This is the best flat white I’ve ever drunk. Ten out of ten.” 

“Thanks,” You thank him flatly, “It was made with love and a coffee machine I learned how to use yesterday.” 

“I can just taste the love in it.” 

“Not the coffee machine?”

“Well, it’s a bit concerning if someone can taste the coffee machine in their coffee, innit?” Gaz raises an eyebrow at you before taking another sip of his coffee. 

“Not if it’s the one I used.” 

“Whatever you say,” Gaz mutters, taking yet another sip of his coffee, making you huff out a small laugh. 

“You enjoy your coffee,” You say before walking back over to the door, closing the door behind you as you walk out and letting out a tired breath, starting to head back to your own sleeping quarters.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: I'm a sleepy babay.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

There’s a finality to the tap of your thumb. You hold the block button for a moment before you let it go. The window pops up asking if you’re sure. Yes. Certain. This is just a mistake and when you’re older and wiser, you’ll be thankful you made it. If you even remember it. 

You lay back and put your phone down. Done. Over. No more Jacob. No Andy.  

Maybe you’ll go back and see Kara again, or she can come here, even if she hates this town. You can at least be thankful that it reconnected you two, and you have to be grateful to learn a hard lesson. Don’t mess with strangers online. You’re better off alone. 

You close your eyes. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and yes, physically. Who knew scooping ice cream could be so much work? 

When you wake up, you’re sore and still groggy. The sun peers in at you brightly in the slat between the curtains. You groan and hide under the pillow. Your shift starts at noon. You can’t spend all morning doing nothing or the whole day is wasted. 

You drag yourself out of bed. Your grandma is still asleep. You’re sure she was up until dawn with her latest haul from the used book store. You clean up the cluster of wrappers around her chair and tidy up the kitchen, dumping the old coffee and brewing a new pot. 

You go to grab your phone and pause as you see an unusual notification. Your email? Huh. You don’t really use that besides for school. You open it up, thinking it might be about enrolment. No. It’s him. Andy. Holy moly. 

You scroll up and down, skimming the blocks of text. Oh god. You hit delete. You’re not reading all that. You said what needed to be said. 

You have your coffee and load the machine for whenever your mother gets out of bed. You eat and wash up, catching up on some Youtube before you make yourself get your uniform on. You head out, walking to work to enjoy the sunshine, and key in between tying on your apron and chatting with Gavin, the high schooler who does half-shifts every now and then.  

He leaves at four and you have your complimentary cone just after five. Peanut butter chocolate; classic. You eat at the window as you watch the mostly empty street. Your phone vibrates and you slide it out, hoping to take advantage of the lull. 

WhatsApp request? No way. The shammy recruiters always want a piece of you. At least you never fell for that. 

You bite into the cone and your phone suddenly blows up with Insta notifications. Bots! Ugh. So annoying. Every new follower is faceless with some generated name. You mute the notifications and put your cell away. You really are a boring person. 

As you look up, tires crush over a patch of gravel and your barely catch a glimpse of the car as it rolls just around the corner. You feel like you’ve missed something. Maybe your grandma is right about you always having your nose buried in a screen. Who is she to talk? She lives in her novels. 

Your shift ends at eight. You lock up and stop by the convenience store down the block. Nothing special, just a tray of carbonara you can shove in the nuke. As you pay at the counter, the door chimes to signal another customer. You accept your meagre meal as the other patron strides into the aisle. You don’t look over as you go directly for the door. You’re starving for more than a scoop. 

Your footsteps seem to echo through the dull streets. The frozen meal makes your hand hurt as your other holds your cell phone close. You text Kara as you finally get through the essay she wrote about Calvin’s latest antics. You wish you could convince her to play something. You feel aimless without an analog stick under your thumb. 

There’s a scuff, close behind you, loud enough to make you jump. You fumble with your phone and glance over your shoulder. You don’t see anything but the thick oak outside Luella’s. Ugh. Alright, you need to eat and lay down. It hasn’t been a busy day but still a long one. 

You pass through your grandma’s front door. She’s where she always is, in her chair, but something’s off. Something’s different. The smell of pollen hangs in the air and a pot stands on the coffee table with several white orchids tall in the soil. You frown. The last time you got her flowers, she didn’t even put them in a vase. 

“Oh, those are pretty,” you say. 

“Mph, not mine,” she grumbles, not looking up. 

“Not... who’s...” 

“Delivery man said your name. I didn’t read the card. I’m not a snoop.” 

You nod, thankful at least that she isn’t nosy. You go to the table and examine the pot. Who would send you flowers? 

You take the card off the tall pronged stick and open the envelope. You slide out the paper and unfold it. 

‘I know I’ve told you a million times, so I’ll show you how sorry I am instead. Yours always, Andy.’ 

You nearly drop your handful. Your eyes flick up to the pot and you have to stop yourself from pushing it off the table. What the hell? How... how does he know where you live? You never even mentioned what town you’re from. He only knows your college and it’s so small, he wouldn’t have heard of it. 

It’s enough to unsettle you. That he knows where you live is bad enough but the flowers themselves make a point. It’s not over. He’s not walking away but what else can you say to make him? Didn’t he get it? You think were pretty nice considering. 

“You got some boy?” Your grandma raises her eyes from the page. You can’t remember the last time she even bothered looking at you. 

“Not exactly,” you tuck the card away and put it in your pocket. “I’m going to make my dinner.” 

“Eh,” she grumbles, “fine. Get them flowers somewhere else. They stink.” 

You lift the vase, hugging it around the pot, and carry it from the room. You balance it against your hip and go into the kitchen. You use your free hand to pull open the freezer and put the pasta inside. You’re not so hungry anymore. 

🎮

The irises are pretty. The pot they came in is fancy, probably expensive. It underlines once more the gap between you and the real Jacob. Between you and Andy.

It only reminds you of how ridiculous you must have sounded. So, you just can’t understand why he’s doing this? Why is he still trying? For you? A girl with dwindling hopes of even finishing her low-tier college degree. 

You try to forget. You don’t have a shift that day but you can’t just sit around. Usually, you would. You’d hole up in your bedroom and play video games. Not anymore. He ruined that. You’re disappointed you’re letting him. 

You got down to the library for a while and wander around. There’s nothing there you’re very interested in. They still haven’t got the latest release in the series you’d read in high school. Oh well, you’ll wait around until one day you learn the fate of those revolutionary spies. 

You walk the main strip of the town. It isn’t very extensive. There’s a coffee shop and the used bookstore which also carries hobby supplies. There’s the same diner that’s been there since you were a kid and the interchangeable business that open and close year after year. 

There’s a vibe in your pocket. It’s not Kara. Another WhatsApp request, more Insta bots, and Discord. You haven’t been on the server in ages. You couldn’t keep up with all the channels and most of it was arguing about mining strategies. 

It’s Andy. Frig. You should’ve blocked him there too. You just hadn’t thought of it. 

‘Did you like the flowers?’ 

You don’t answer but he’ll see that you read it. It isn’t long before he’s typing. 

‘I am still very sorry. I wish you’d talk to me. Hear me out.’ 

Hear him out? He said everything. His son is dead and he lied to you. That’s not anything you can hash out. 

‘I know you’re not working today. I’ll make a new world and we can chat there.’ 

No. That’s not going to happen. Over. O-V-E-R. It’s done. You’re not going to be like Kara. When you cut the cord, it’s snipped. 

You won’t answer. That’s just bait. He’ll keep nibbling if you do that. You press the chat settings and block. That’s better, you can’t breathe. 

You put your phone on silent and back in your pocket. You wish you had the money to try the sushi place. It won’t last long in the bodunk town so you probably won’t ever get to. Oh well. Back on campus, they sell decent California rolls at the cafeteria. Decent, not necessarily good. 

You go home. To your grandma’s house. It doesn’t always feel like home. You know she’s counting the days until you leave. You are too. 

You wish you were brave enough to apologise. To say sorry your mom and dad didn’t want you. That she got stuck with you. It feels like saying it out loud would be worse. Just wallow in the unspoken resent, one day you won’t ever come back and maybe then you can both be happy. 

In your room, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your Switch taunts you from across the room. You want to mine or race or even scare yourself with some Hellblade. You can’t. More Youtube. More wasted time. That’s what people like you do; people from small towns with no one who loves them and no money; waste time. 

The mindless videos help you relax but not forget. You just can’t get rid of the little tickle at the back of your head. There’s a tinge of shame that remains and a sliver of guilt. It will go. It has to, one day. 

You catch yourself staring at the orchid. You can smell it. You want to throw it away but that feels rude. Even if Andy would never know, even if you shouldn’t care. He hurt you, didn’t he? He lied. Well, you could give it to Mahalia next door, she loves flowers. 

You lay in indecision. You don’t want to do anything but lay there. Now that you’re still, you have no strength. Your day off is chipped away in your laziness.  

The next day awaits you with another shift at the booth. And the day after and the day after. 

Your fourth day in a row and you get a new Discord message. You know even before you open it, even by the blank avatar and nondescript username. It’s him. Just leave me alone. Let it go. Let me forget. 

‘I know you don’t want to hear from me but I need you to hear me. I can’t stop thinking of you and what happened. I can do better. Please, let me apologise.’ 

Blocked. Again.

Work. Again.  

You’re half asleep as you fill cones with soft serve. You smile and swallow yawns, faking it for the hyper children and cheerful couples. 

When it slows, you work on cleaning the freezer, switching out empty containers with ones from the deep freeze. As you check the soft serve, there’s a tap on the open walk-up window. Oh shoot. You should’ve been paying better attention. 

You turn back to greet the next customer but as you approach the window, your chest deflates. Frozen, like the tubs around you. You stare at Andy as he smiles at you. He wears a short-sleeve button up with blue, grey, and white stripes. His hair blows in the soft breeze. 

“Do you have butterscotch ripple?” He asks brightly. 

You blink and hesitate. You don’t know what to do. How did he get here? How did he find you? Why is he here? 

You reach for the window and before he can stop you, you shut it. You lock it from the inside and step back. His face falls and his brow arches as he stands straight. He says your name, his voice muffled by the glass, and puts his palm to the barrier. 

“Please,” he begs. 

You shake your head and turn your back to him. If your manager was here, you’d be in shit. That’s a no-no. Never turn away a customer, only shut the window when you lock up. 

You ignore him and go back to tidying. There could be a line up out there but you don’t care. Your hands are shaking and it’s not just the temperature.

You just can’t believe he’s there. You can’t believe he won’t just give up. You don’t want to believe it because you’re afraid. You’re terrified and he seems entirely clueless about how scary he’s being. 

Flowers are one thing but showing up at your job? That’s a flaming red flag that even you can see. Not only because you told him plainly that you don’t want to talk to him again, but because he’s a grown man. Fortysomething and he can’t take a hint. Why would a man his age want to talk to someone as young as you? That’s another red flag on its own. As if catfishing you wasn’t enough. 

[blitzwhore]

I just saw Blitzø get called Stolas stockholm victim I can't with this fandom anymore😭

😂 As outrageously incorrect and stupid as that take is, I'm going to go on a tangent here. I hope you don't mind.

I think every fandom has annoying people with awfully terrible takes in it. People with zero media literacy. People who hatewatch. People who think they're entitled to the exact show they would've wanted, which has nothing to do with the actual, existing show.

This is especially true for queer media, and especially true for queer cartoons. (Hi, yes. I was active in the Adventure Time, Steven Universe, Voltron, and She-Ra fandoms when those shows were airing, respectively. I've seen some stuff). Some people just can't handle queer cartoons, period. If the queer characters/ships are soft and wholesome, they're infantilising and boring, and if they're complex and nuanced and actually have conflict, they're abusive and problematic. You'll hear the same recycled arguments over and over again. Like, the shit some people are saying about Blitz and Stolas after The Full Moon? Is literally almost word-for-word what they said about Catra and Adora post-season 3 of She-Ra (and even at the end of the show).

Here's the thing, though! Those people and their bad takes are not what I want to think about what I think about a fandom. Those aren't the people I want to call the fans. They don't deserve that title. Not when so many other people are out there dedicating their time to making gifs and art and meta posts, and writing fic, and commenting/reblogging to show support, and sliding into people's DMs to scream and squee together about a thing they love.

At the end of the day, "fandom" is just a lot of people each doing their own thing. Which people you engage with and allow to stay within your line of sight will determine your fandom experience. Fandom can be a huge, convoluted, online space full of people who are constantly arguing with one another and whose takes make you unfathomably angry... Or it can be you and your 5 friends and mutuals who scream gleefully at one another in 2-note posts. You can't control what others post online, but you can control your engagement with it.

How? Well, here's what I personally do to avoid getting upset by people's stupid opinions online:

Filter 'critical' and 'anti' tags (eg. #anti stolitz #anti vivziepop #Helluva Boss critical #HB critical #vivziepop critical). Many people actually do tag their critical posts because they know it's the respectful thing to do!

If I come across a post that has one or more of those tags, obviously, I don't click through to see it under any circumstances.

If I stumble across a stranger's untagged post with hate/criticism that upsets me: I stop reading and BLOCK. Immediately. I don't look back. I don't finish reading. I don't engage. I just block block block. I <3 the block button, seriously.

If I feel my mind reeling from a bad take I just came across: I take a step back, close my phone, breathe, remember life is beautiful sometimes. Go back and watch an episode I really like. Clean my living space a little. Vent about it to a friend (but only if I really need to, because if not, I'd rather not dwell on it).

If I'm starting to feel the need to reply to someone's bad take (directly or via my own post), I instead make the decision to channel that energy into making fandom posts out of love. (I don't do this just with fandom. If I see something transphobic online, I usually react by reblogging a bunch of trans art or trans positivity posts on my main, for example). I like to think of it as putting some positivity out into the world to compensate for the negativity I just saw. So, for example, if I see someone shitting on my blorbo, I may make a silly post just saying how much I love blorbo. Or I'll make (or draft) a post about how interesting I find some of blorbo's actions. Or reblog another person's positive/interesting post about blorbo.

And finally, I stay the hell away from Twitter. Or at least, if I go on Twitter, I try my best to avoid any tweet that has text in it instead of just art. Even the people who have good opinions spend too much time arguing with the people who have bad opinions on there. I don't want to see people's bad takes! No, not even while reading founded and perfectly articulated criticism of those bad takes! So I just limit my time on Twitter. And again, if someone is putting bad takes on my TL (even if it is to counter them), I unfollow and block as needed.

All this to say, yes, it really fucking sucks to read the opinions of people who don't understand and who hate the characters and ships and worlds you love. Gosh it's the worst. But you can curate your fandom experience. You can focus on the things you can control. You have the power to decide if your fandom experience is draining or fun!

And because I don't know how to finish this, here, have a Stolitz kiss to heal you:

We will keep winning and there's nothing the haters can do about it. 😌

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 3 :

Heaven being a hot tennis (sorta) gf before she saw her (sorta) man lose:

Note: Okay, once again, thank you so much for the love you guys have shown this story. I'm really inspired by Challengers right now and think I have a lot of ideas for this story. Once again, this oc is not meant to be perfect, she is just as messy and just as young as the characters in the movie. She is a college student and will act like an (albeit messy) one. I'm very grateful for all of the replies, likes, reblogs and interaction in general. It really inspires me to see what you all think and see that people are enjoying it. Regarding the tag list, I am going to try this again, but for some reason, every time I do it seems to not work for people, so let me know if it works this time. Finally, MDNI, like for real, not playing, stay out of grown folks business, if I find out you'll be blocked. Love you all and hope you enjoy! <3

Warnings: Sexual content, strong language, slight themes of cheating(idk if it counts yet)

Taglist: @spookystitchery @anehkael @fkaams @butterflyybabe @sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384

“Holy shit.” Tashi murmurs under her breath as she climbs the cobblestone walkway to the address Heaven had given her. This was gonna be their first time hanging outside of the gym or school. Tashi knew they lived in different neighborhoods, but they share a school zone, she hadn’t realized Heaven’s family had money. The girl didn’t seem different from her. They both liked the same games, same music minus the classical that she kept playing that Tashi found herself falling asleep to recently. 

She turns and waves to her dad, trying to encourage him to pull off before she rings the doorbell, sighing as he stubbornly remains still, watching her get up to the door from his car window. 

The large, wooden door opens as some obnoxious bell rings into the house, the noise spilling outside. The sound of heels clacking gets closer and closer until the door opens revealing a woman with a stern look on her face. Her brown hair is slicked back into a bun and she’s wearing a crisp white button down shirt with pressed jeans and heels. Tashi can’t remember the last time she’d seen her own mother wear heels. She looked so…put together. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Tashi Duncan. I’m Heaven’s friend, we go to school together. She hasn’t been in school the last few days, so I have her make-up work. I called and asked her if it was okay if I dropped it off and she said yes-”

“Heaven is training right now. I can take that, and she’ll be back in school when we get back from our trip.” The woman offers a smile but otherwise quickly takes the binder from Tashi’s hands and goes to retreat into the house only to be stopped by a voice behind her.

“Mom, wait-” Out from behind the woman comes Heaven. Her skin is glistening from sweat and her hair is curling at the nape. She’s dressed in a black leotard with worn, tan ballet shoes on her feet. She smiles brightly as she sees Tashi, pulling her into a hug despite her unkempt state. “Tashi, hey, thank you.” 

Tashi is almost hesitant to hug the girl back in front of her no nonsense appearing mother, but opts to return the hug regardless, letting Heaven intertwine their fingers as she pulls back. “No problem.”

Heaven’s brown eyes scan Tashi’s own outfit and her smile drops a little. “Were you about to go play tennis? Mom, Tashi’s the best tennis player ever. She’s gonna be like Serena Williams.” 

“Is that so?”  Heaven’s mom’s brow raises as she looks down at the girl standing at her door. 

Tashi got it. It sounds like a lofty goal. Even at such a young age, Tashi was confident in her abilities. She knows what she can do. But Mrs. Whitlock had never seen her play. If she did, she’d know that Tashi Duncan is tennis. For now, Heaven stating it like it’s a fact is enough to satisfy her. “I just got back from practicing. And yes, ma’am. I’m the best.” 

Mrs. Whitlock looks impressed at that, pursing her lips and nodding in approval before nudging her own daughter. “I’d bet she’s the best because she trains. Which is what you’re supposed to be doing.” 

Heaven bites her lip, rocking on her feet, causing her shoes to make a clack sound on the floor. “Can Tashi watch?” she grabs her mom’s sleeve and pleads harder at the disapproving look on her face. “Please? She’ll help. She helps me run drills at the gym all of the time. I haven’t gotten to see any friends all week. I’ll keep practicing, mom.” Her fingers tighten around Tashi’s in a way that has her clenching back, glancing at her Dad’s car to see him climbing out, noting that he probably hadn’t expected this to take so long. “Please, mom.”

“I can help, Mrs. Whitlock.” Tashi adds. “I promise, I won’t distract her.”

After some begging, from Heaven and promises to be useful from Tashi, Mrs. Whitlock allowed them 90 minutes. As long as Heaven kept practicing while Tashi was there.

Apparently, Heaven’s dance company was putting on Sleeping Beauty and this was the first year that Heaven has been old enough to play Aurora. Tashi learned that last year Heaven had been snubbed for Cinderella and made a Season Fairy instead. In Heaven’s words, if she ‘earned Cinderella, she should’ve been Cinderella’. But this year, there was no excuse. She was a little taller, she was 13 and she wouldn’t let them take it from her. 

“Again.” Tashi says, stepping away from Heaven, folding her arms. 

If she’d thought Heaven’s family had money from outside the house, she knows they do now. Here she stood in Heaven’s ‘dance studio’. She concedes that it’s just a room with mirrors, ballet bars and wooden floors, it looked pretty damn official to her. It’s not like her parents had failed to provide. She’s a member of a tennis team, has two coaches, and frequently attends the courts in town. But to have it in her home? She’d give anything. 

“Water. Then again.” Heaven huffs, walking over to one of the mirrors and grabbing her water bottle. 

The Rose Adage. Arguably the hardest part of Sleeping Beauty the ballet. Heaven showed a video of a professional performance to Tashi and still pointed out mistakes. The dance is all about stamina and balance. As far as Tashi could tell, Heaven had mastered all of it except the last part.

The balance. 

She’s hitting every beautiful move, every pose. But the last part.  The very last part of the dance where Aurora has to rely completely on her partner to be steady enough to guide her as she’s en pointe in attitude pose. She’s essentially meant to be a figure in a music box. Heaven had done it at least 20 times since Tashi had arrived and started being her stand-in partner. 

But her leg. Her damn leg kept quivering in the last few seconds. She doesn’t fall out. She doesn’t lose her position. But her goddamn leg quivers in the turn. Tashi sees it. She sees it. 

Neither of them are satisfied.

“Talk to me about something else. I’m getting annoyed.” Heaven says, taking a deep swig of her drink. She hands the bottle to Tashi, leaving the mouthpiece up for the other girl to get a drink too as she walks off to grab her towel.

Swallowing a gulp of water, Tashi shrugs, sitting on the floor and criss-crossing her legs. “Jacob and Tammy broke up again.”

“Really?” Heaven tosses her towel to the corner and goes over the bar closest to Tashi, perching one leg up on it. Holding true to what she promised her mother and continuing to practice. “They just got back together last week. That means Jacob’s gonna ask you to go to the dance with him next week.”

“Shut up.” Tashi scoffs with a smile, watching her friend stretch. 

“He will.” Heaven hums. “You gonna say yes?”

Tashi laughs, stretching her own back before laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “Why would I do that? I don’t like Jacob, he’s boring.” She turns her head to look at Heaven again. “I figured we were going together.”

“Why would you think that?” Heaven grunts as she switches legs. “You haven’t asked me.”

Tashi rolls her eyes, pushing off of the floor and moving back to the middle of the room. “Break time’s over, let's go.” 

“I didn’t take a damn break.” Heaven laughs, nonetheless moving over and getting into position. “You’re not gonna ask me?”

“Straighten your back.”

“It’s straight.” Heaven says, going up onto her single foots, eyes following Tashi as she spins her in place, not even noticing how much time is passing. “Fine. I’ll do it then, come to the dance with me.”

Tashi stops spinning the girl, stepping back once again, this time with a smug smile on her face. “Sure why not. It’ll be fun dancing with a princess.” 

Heaven lowers her foot slowly and as the realization hits her, her own smirk forms on her face. She’d done it. And her leg didn’t shake.

“Let’s show your mom, maybe she’ll let me come hang out more when she sees that I’m basically teaching you ballet.” Tashi jokes, only to be pushed by Heaven.

“Shut up and spin me again.”

“Call me when you make it back, okay?” Heaven smiles, removing her arms from Tashi’s neck and stepping back. “Love you.”

“You call me when you get the lead.” the girl smiles back, pulling Heaven in for a brief peck before walking over to get back into Patrick’s car. “And I know.”

Art doesn't manage to look away in time for that one, but quickly turns his head away as Patrick pulls the girl in, teeth grinding as he hears their lips separate. 

“I’ll visit after the first leg of my tour.” His friend mumbles behind him. Art can feel his lip curling as he tries to work a neutral expression onto his face. As he looks at the car he can see Tashi looking back at him with a pensive stare and immediately turns his back to say his own goodbye. 

He tries to wait until Patrick is standing at the window of the passenger seat, speaking to Tashi to pull Heaven a little further away. “Hey, are we gonna talk about before?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Heaven.” Art says, a pleading in his voice that drags her gaze back to him.

The girl shifts on her feet, glancing over his shoulder at the car and back at him. “Okay, we kissed. So what?”

“So what? Is that how you feel about it? So what?” Art asks, the hurt in his voice is clear as he looks down at the girl, brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m just saying we had a moment.”

“Fuck.” Heaven breathes, shaking her head. “Yeah. Okay. Are you gonna tell them?”

He straightens at that. He wants to say yes. He wants to be selfish, and ruin whatever the fuck is going on between the three of them. He doesn’t even know what he’d do once he did, he just knows he wants whatever this is, with them, to stop. 

But how can he? Looking at her face, pleading up at him. Watching her all morning, curling into Tashi and Patrick like it would undo what happened the night before. Like it would change the looks they’ve been sharing over their shoulders all morning. “You asked me not to.” he says softly.

Heaven nods quietly at that. “Thank you.” And with that she turns, arms wrapped around herself as she goes to climb the steps to get to her building door. Art watches her back. When he gets in the car he’ll make something up. He’ll say he just wanted to make sure she got inside safe. He definitely wasn’t waiting, hoping, praying she’d look back. Give him one more look. Something. 

She doesn’t.

But a few days later while he’s on the court practicing with one of the guys from the team, thinking for the twentieth time that Patrick may have been a little right wasting time considering he was absolutely destroying the kid with about half of his effort, he gets a text from an unknown number. 

12:41 p.m. : I got the lead.

He can’t help the smile that starts forming when he sees it on his screen.

“Donaldson, are you up for another set or what?” 

Heaven huffs in irritation as her leg bounces on the bleachers. Shifting in her seat again her cheek dimples with a frown as she watches Patrick’s racket go flying. “Fucking ridiculous.” she sighs, crossing her legs.

She’d been in school for a couple of weeks now and Patrick had a match not too far from her. She’d decided to be a good..whatever she is to him and come out and show some support. Tashi is preparing for her own match coming up, and to be honest, his performance on this leg hadn’t been impressive enough to encourage her to want to come see. 

Heaven was trying to be supportive. Despite his broke boy act, he had sent her flowers to her dorm the week of her auditions. So had Art, something that the girls in the dorm had been scandalized by when they realized the cards were not addressed by the same person. Tashi had called her to remind her of her schedule that week, meditated with her over the phone. She wanted to give the same support to them.

When the match ends she’s already reaching for her phone and sure enough, its vibrating in her purse. “I know.”

“Did you see that shit?”

“I know. I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing. Seriously.” Heaven stands from her seat, scooting passed the small crowds of peeople and making her way down the bleachers.

“Fucking around. He gets lazy-”

“In the third, yeah. He was better than this guy.” She squints to see him storming his way into the building to go the locker room and starts following him. “He’s pissed.”

“He should be embarrassed.” There’s the sound of something snapping closed on the other end and Heaven knows Tashi slams her laptop. “He was off screen for me, how are you seeing him?”

“I drove out here, it’s pretty close.” She says, balancing her phone on her shoulder with her cheek as she pushes the door to the building open and starts looking around for the men’s locker rooms. “Figured he could use the support.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a moment and Heaven pauses in her steps, waiting for Tashi to say something. “Hm.”

“What?” Heaven sighs, leaning against the hallway, waving away an employee politely that seemed alarmed that she was on her way into the men’s locker room. “Babe, what?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry you didn’t get to see a win. He wasted our time. You could be rehearsing.” 

“S’fine, he just needs to get his shit together before-”

“I’ve gotta go.” Tashi cuts in. “I’m gonna hit the ball with Art. Hang out a little, we’ve been busy. Tell Patrick to call me later.”

Tashi hangs up before Heaven can say anything else. Breathing out in irritation, she pushes off of the wall and enters the locker room, putting a hand over her eyes and laughing at the men either scrambling to cover up or pausing to check her out.

The guy Patrick just played against wraps a towel around himself, making his way over to her with a smile. “You lost, sweetheart?”

Keeping her hand over her eyes she giggles, making her voice sickly sweet. “No, I’m a really big tennis fan, and I wanted to see if I could get that really hot guy Patrick Zweig’s number.”

“What?” He asks. 

One of Patrick's tourmates peaks his head out from behind a locker and rolls his eyes. “Zweig, your girlfriend’s here.”

Heaven can’t help but think to herself that as Patrick rounds the corner he doesn’t know exactly who he’s talking about. It makes her wonder, is that what she is? She, Tashi and Patrick have been hooking up since after his match with Art and it’s been fun. She likes him. He’s funny, and snarky, talking to him has been like…being with a male Tashi. 

But does she consider herself his girlfriend? Does he? She knows he dumped the girl he’d been seeing when he’d met them, but does he still hook up with girls while he’s on tour. And even then, is she a stop on his tour? 

Suddenly, she’s feeling a little like what she was just pretending to be. A groupie.

“Oh fuck yeah, hey.” He grins when he sees her. He’s changed out of his clothes from before into a ‘fuck you’ t-shirtand sweats. He immediately throws his arm over her shoulders, knocking her hand from in front of her eyes and replacing it with his own. “What do you think this is? A peep show? Huh? I missed you.”

Heaven laughs as she lets him guide her out of the humid room out into the hallway again, once they’re there, pulling his hand away and hugging him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He smiles, pressing his lips to hers. Heaven pushes up onto her toes to meet him, giving him a few more pecks before pulling back. “You came up here by yourself?”

Translation: where’s Tashi. “Yeah…but, um, she wants you to call her later.”

“She was watching?” He asks, placing his arm back around Heaven and walking them back outside toward concessions. “Okay, so you both saw, that was bullshit, right?”

Yeah, we saw some bullshit. Heaven squints, trying to read the menu at the stand despite the sun beating down, trying not to look Patrick in the face. “Did you get tired or something?”

“No, but the calls were fucking stupid, they were robbing me.” 

“Hm.” Heaven raises one shoulder and drops it, turning back to the man at the stand. “Small vanilla ice cream please. 

Patrick laughs humorously, reaching in his pocket and pulling out his wallet. “Large.” Turning back to Heaven he shakes his head in disbelief. “You guys are just alike, you know? What does ‘hm’ mean?”

“I just think you could’ve beat him, he was fuckin’ scared of you the first half of the match.”

“I should’ve won.”

“I agree.” Heaven huffs, crossing her arms. 

Patrick, raises his eyebrows and throws his arms out a little, “Okay, so…”

“I just think you didn’t because you didn’t care to. It got hard so you made the decision to give up.” 

The older man in the stand clears his throat, holding out the cup of ice cream out with one spoon, eyeing the arguing pair. “Did you all need another one?”

“No.” Patrick says, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to leave. “She can have the whole damn thing.”

Heaven’s eyes widen as she watches him walking away toward the building. She grabs the ice cream from the man walking over to a bench just outside of the courts. 

He’s walking slowly. He doesn’t wanna really leave. He’s just fucking like her. 

“I’m not fucking gonna chase you, Patrick.” Heaven chuckles, scooping some of the ice cream into her mouth. She watches from her seat as he stops. “And you’re proving my point. But I drove all the way here to see you. Are you gonna leave me on this bench?”  When he doesn’t immediately turn, Heaven nods to herself, taking another bite. “M’not getting up, Patrick.”

She watches as his shoulders rise and fall with his deep breath and he turns to face her again, marching back over and sitting roughly on the bench, jostling her a little but she keeps her face neutral. “I should have won.”

“I still agree.” Heaven says, scooping some of the treat onto the spoon and holding it to his mouth, knowing he was cooling off when he accepts it. “So why didn’t you?”

The brown haired man just sighs, dropping her head back against the bench with a thunk, staring up at the sky. “I dunno.”

“He was pissed at me.”

Art nods his head along as he steps out of the shower, wiping the condensation gathered on his phone on the towel before wrapping it around his waist and bringing the phone back to his ear. He knocks his hand on his suitemate’s door to let him know he’s out of the bathroom before he makes his way to his own room, closing the door. “He didn’t leave you out there, right?”

“No, he just did that thing he does, you know, storms off. But he calmed down and we had some fun. Could’ve done without the fight though.” 

Art wets his lip as he places the phone on speaker on his desk, letting Heaven’s voice fill his room. He never asked her what made her get his number from Tashi’s phone. He figured he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. They’d been texting every day since he’d gotten it, talking on the phone every other day. They’ve talked about everything. 

Where they’re both from, their families, interests outside of tennis and dance. He learned her favorite colors are baby blue and bright orange. That she used to want to cheerlead too but her mother made her choose ballet because she preferred it and said she couldn’t do both at the same time. That her dad left when she was two but she has a great relationship with her stepfather. 

She learned that while Art loved tennis, he’d tried to quit his boarding school three different times when he first got there, but each time he’d won a match and the sport pulled him back in. That he, despite complaining, loves seeing his grandma because she was the one who really raised him because his parents were busy. That he always wanted a younger sibling but never got one, so when he was still at the school, he and Patrick would help teach the younger students tennis when they weren’t dicking around. 

What she doesn’t know is that he could do without talking to her about dating his best friend.

 “I’d bet.”

Heaven laughs ruefully on the other side of the phone, and the sound has him melting immediately. Sits at his desk, letting himself air dry as he listens to her giggles ring out. “I’m being shitty. How’s school, Arthur?”

And that sends a shiver down his spine. He clears his throat, sitting up as he stares at the phone as if she was in its place. “It’s good, you know, I’ve been staying busy. Between classes and tennis. The guys here are kinda shitty, beating them doesn’t really mean shit.” 

“Well, not everyone can be Art Donaldson. You must be hanging out with Tashi too much, you’re sounding cocky over there.” 

“Nah, it’s just that bad,” he says. Determined to steer the conversation away from Tashi, Art thinks hard. “What ballet are you doing? I gotta make sure I know what I’m watching when I come watch you.”

“You’re supposed to watch everyone so you can understand the story.” she says. He can hear the sound of creaking letting him know that she’s climbing into her bed. Art follows suit, pulling on his boxers and pushing up into his own twin sized bed.

“Heaven, if you’re there, I’m gonna be watching you.” he breathes, smiling to no one but himself.

There’s a soft, ‘Okay’ on the other side of the line, and then nothing. Just the soft sound of her breathing. When they have moments like these Art feels the sting of knowing that he lost to Patrick and in a way Tashi, that day in a different way. I should’ve won. I don’t know why I didn’t win. All I’ve done since then is win. “So, um, we’re doing Romeo and Juliet. Off the record I think the choice is corny, but as a principal dancer, Juliet, I love it and can’t wait to do it.” 

“Lucky Romeo.” he jokes, earning him another breathy laugh. He can’t help it. He tries not to say anything and clenches his jaw tightly, kicking himself for opening his mouth again. “I’m sorry, did you tell them that you got the lead?”

“Art-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…you drove out there for his match. I couldn’t even go. Did he ask you how your auditions went? Did she?” 

“She told me I should rehearse, that’s how we talk to each other.” she says.

“And him? Did he ask?” 

“I’m not talking about this with you, that’s not why I called, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t vent to you about him. Or her. I know how you feel about her.” Heaven sighs.

“Do you know how I feel about you?” He asks. Silence. “Heaven, come on-”

“What would you do differently?” 

“Wh-” At first he doesn’t know what she’s asking. And once he realizes it, he knows she’s made it vague on purpose. Giving him an out. Giving herself an out. Asking too upfront would make it too real. But he wants it to be real. And he’s not gonna miss this opportunity. “I’d have been there the day you auditioned. You have a process and I know that, so I’d have called you before. Wish you luck. Tell you that you were beautiful. That I knew you’d get whatever part you wanted. And then I would have been there when you got out. I would’ve given you flowers. I’d tell you I’m proud of you. And I’d take you to get dinner.”

“Okay. Where?”

“We’d get your cheat food. And I couldn’t have it because I’m starting my season and I know you wouldn’t let me, but we’d get seafood and ice cream, and take it back to your room because you were probably so tired.” Art pauses then, waiting to see if she wants him to stop. He would stop, if she wanted him to stop, he would stop. This could be innocent. This could be advice from a friend who thinks she deserves better. But, that’s not what he wants. That’s all he thinks he has to offer her. “Heaven?”

“I’m…still here.”

“And…” Art thinks back ironically to all of the times Patrick has told him to take what he wants. To be forward and put himself first. “We’d take a shower together. I’d kiss you and massage you while I got you clean. Because, you deserve to relax, and you worked hard. And you were probably so sore, baby.” He hears Heaven’s breath hitch and shifts on his bed, continuing tentatively. “I’d touch you so good, Hev. I’d massage your breasts and kiss your neck. I’d mark your perfect skin. I…I’d want people to see it. To know who made you feel like that. To know who took care of you. I would put my fingers between your legs and make you feel so good. I’d hold you up so you don’t have to do anything. And I’d watch your face while you come for me.”

Art can feel his own labored breathing. He tries to tune the sound of himself out, only wanting to hear the whimpers that have started to come from his phone. He swallows back the last ounce of guilt he has as his hand slides down into his shorts, grabbing himself and biting back a moan as he thinks about his hands on Heaven, hearing her in his ear, feeling her under him. On top of him. Any way she wanted. 

“Fuck.” she gasps.

Art bites his lip briefly, willing away the jolt in his lower abdomen that comes from her sound, muscles flexing as he seizes upward slightly. He slows his hand on himself to a stop, pulling his hand out. Not until I hear it. Not until I get her there. “I’d carry you to your bed and lay you down. And I’d start at your feet. I’d kiss my way up your beautiful legs. People dream about your legs, Heaven, I dream about them. When you dance, when you walk, the way they look…fuck-” he groans, digging the hand that hadn’t grabbed the phone into his hair. “I’d push them apart and put them on my shoulders, and I’d taste you. I know you taste amazing, baby. I’d do anything to taste your cum.”

“Art-” she whines, and he lets his eyes slip closed. Behind his eyelids he can see her. In the bed, touching herself to him. Biting her pillow and crying out his name. Arching her back because it feels so good.

“Tell me it feels good, Heaven, please.”

“I…it feels good, Art.” 

He’s close. He can tell, with every sound she gives him, he gets closer, barely holding it together. He needs more. Just a little more. “Again.” he demands softly.

“You feel so good, Art.” she cries before dissolving into gasps and whimpers of his name.

He almost feels like he blacks out. Art doesn’t think he’s ever come so hard in his entire life. He literally rolls over onto his side to try to catch his breath and quiet his moans. He doesn’t think he could live it down if his suitemates came knocking at his door and he had to explain that he was trying to get his friends’ girlfriend off and accidentally worked himself up to the thought of taking her on a date and eating her out. 

Then there’s quiet again. The only noise is their shared rapid breathing crackling through the phone. They stay like that for a few minutes and Art thinks about how badly he wishes that it wouldn’t be absolutely crazy to tell her he wanted to drive the hours to UCLA, do exactly what he said on the phone and then hold her while they fall asleep. But, he knows better. And she speaks.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah.” Art breathes, sitting up grabbing tissues from his desk and starting to clean himself up. “I know.” 

He’s not gonna be the one to hang up. He wants more. He wants her voice. He wants her breaths. He wants to falling asleep on the phone. If she’s ready for the call to end, she’s gonna have to end it.

But she’s still here. 

“Art, I did tell them and…I don’t really know why but…I told you first.” 

Click.

[blueparadis]

❝ GHOST TOWN ❞ + GETO SUGURU ❪ playing ⌗4, ⌗5& ⌗6 ❫─── via radio line ❛ anatomy of emotions ❜〳 from this is what ____ feels like !

[ content & themes ] ::abo au + modern au, f!omega!reader,strangers to strangers sharing one-night-stand, unrequited feelings,abo marriage & courting rituals, hurt and angst, misunderstandings, smut, mcd. 10k word count.

[ synopsis ] :: Years after, you get a wedding invitation from one of your childhood friends; hoping to rekindle some old flames, you decide to attend the wedding yet the looming shadow of tragedies still followed you. But this time, there was someone who would lick your wounds. 

[ notes ] :: i started this wip around june and since then it has been full of battles for me. Feels good to finish the first part of this. I really hope that next year is kinder than this one. thought i would not be able to finish until the Feb'2024 but here we are, so enjoy and tell me how you liked it :)) & if you have made this far then, congratulations. Stay tuned for next part, dk when will i'll be able to start writing on it, but I do wanna write part two badly SO please don't jinx it. \\ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED \\ tagging @onisae @orchid3a

This year again, there is spring; flowers are blooming on every branch of those lonely trees, the sun is smiling, and the chirping of the birds can be heard. People are soaking themselves in this nice weather, they are welcoming it as they should, walking hand in hand in the neon-pinned streets during evenings, leaving footprints on the sand, taking selfies, and making memories to remember for the years to come, as they should; as they hope it to be. Yes, Everything is so hopeful; everything is outrageously lustrous. But for Geto Suguru, it is not. For him, the earth had already stopped turning since the advent of last spring as if the cogs of the winter suddenly started to rot with rust and now it is just blocked; the winter never stopped weeping since then and the spring never came to soothe the mourning. Geto takes a glance at the clock in the room. Nanami is busy picking up the dresses and sorting them by the hierarchy as well as the theme of rituals of the marriage ceremony which is about to commence within an hour.

“C’mon, you can’t leave just like this. The ceremonies. . . the rituals. They’re going to start soon. You can’t just leave. We need you. You’re important.” Kento finally stopped fidgeting with the clothes when Geto bothered to glance at him through the mirror amused by his tone. It is not common for Nanami to lose his composure. He is always calm and collected and never loses his cool. But today is different. Today is his day. He is going to marry the love of his life, Miss Haibara. So, he is supposed to panic, isn't that right?

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Geto conceded, adjusting his hair to tie it up in a bun. Nanami’s mouth parts in a form of protest but he is slower than usual. Before Nanami could follow him, Geto was already out of the dressing room lost in the crowd.

"But where exactly are you going, Geto-san?" Yu Haibara asked blocking his way as he turned up through the back door.

"To meet a friend," Geto remarks in a low growl and leaves.

Seeing his dearest friend, Nanami frowns he quips, "That's okay. Worry not when I'm here,"  keeping his hand on Kento's shoulders as a sign of assurance.

"Shouldn't you be with your sister?" Nanami quipped with pinched eyebrows.

"Well, boys are not allowed there." Haibara saunters around the room and then settles on an armchair situated on the balcony. "Plus you look like could use some help."

“I just need a house tour,” Nanami claimed as he shuffled through his clothes again. His eyes peered and stilled at his soon-to-be brother-in-law. "do you know your way around here? I mean have you been in Geto-san's house before?"

"Oh! you can trust me on this one." Haibara chuckles nervously realizing how his dearest friend and soon-to-be brother-in-law asks for that one thing he can not help with. Nanami smiles. It is amusing how he is so worked up for his sister's wedding and is trying his best to keep it together rather than sabotaging it, unlike certain someone.

"Sure. Whatever you say, Pal." 

Geto hops onto his jeep staring at the crowd of the elderly people who came to give their blessings. He specifically went through the back door of the house to avoid any kind of attention, especially attention from those elderly people who would not hesitate to question his whereabouts. And that is exactly what he needs to avoid for now. Questions. Stupid questions. He had enough of his own on his plate that demanded answers. With all the waves of memories crashing at the shore of his mind he passed through those familiar streets of his hometown. It has been a year and a half since the incident yet it lays heavy on his mind, like a freshly dropped flower. He halted near the graveyard. The Sakura trees surrounding the graveyard are blushing. He walked into the cemetery, hearing cries and howls of agonies as he passed by some gravestones. There is something with these hospitals and cemeteries that always makes him uncomfortable. Of course, it is supposed to make anyone uncomfortable; death and loss are two sides of the same coin. You can not go at the expense of the other. He has always hated visiting his mom at the hospital when he was a kid. His mother was at the hospital not because she was sick but because she was expecting, but at such a tender age Suguru could barely understand the seriousness of it all. For, his mom left him and when she came back, she would be with his father and his baby brother. But they never came home, just like the spring. When he halted in front of a particular burial his cassette of vague childhood memories ceased to play.

The tombstone read:

SATORU GOJO.

7TH DEC 1989 - 27TH DECEMBER 2016.

“THE ONE AND ONLY.”

Geto tasted bile at the back of his throat. It has been a year and six months already. Still, he has not checked any of the things that Satoru left behind, not even talked to his mother and neither was at his funeral. This is the first time he is visiting Satoru’s grave. During their high school years, there was not a single instance when Geto looked at his right side and found it empty. Satoru was always there beside him, whether busy talking the on phone or busy picking on him or was just there. Now, Geto stands with no one by his side. After high school, they parted ways due to work. And one day, when he collected his phone from the icing centre on his way home after a long day of work, his phone had died with messages, voice missed calls and emails. All of them said one thing: 'Satoru Gojo is dead.'

-

Solitude is lethal. It is very addictive. It becomes a habit after one realizes how peaceful and calm it is. It is like when one does not want to deal with people anymore because they just drain energy in the end. But noin yn has grown bored in the bubble she has created around herself. Now all she wants is to burst the bubble without hurting anyone, not even herself. But on the other hand, if thinly did take a wild turn then what more could add to your irrevocable loss that would hurt you to the point of disintegration?

The cab halted with a huge jerk. Turning his head the driver bore an apologetic smile. After a few futile attempts, it was evident from his face that the cab broke, and that too in the middle of nowhere. Still, you hoped for him to fix it because it would be a hassle to carry all the luggage towards the venue. The place is morbid and dull. You travelled as far they could and Bingo!  There was a Jeep parked outside a cemetery but other than that there was not a single soul. You, the driver, and the broken cab. The Jeep suggested someone should be nearby but after walking a few steps toward the end of the long stretch of the cemetery, you did not see anyone. Running out of options, you checked the destination on Google Maps. It is almost okay. But with all the luggage it would take you half an hour and booking another cab or waiting for another supplementary ride seemed tiring. After ten hours of flight, you just longed for sleep. Without wasting further time on thinking you started to walk reluctantly. After almost ten minutes you heard the noise of a car, a Jeep. You waved in the hopes of getting a lift but he did not stop. He took the turning into a smaller road. With his sunglasses on you could not tell if ly saw you or not. It is hard to miss a person on an empty road but you're experienced to be different. His lips were moving, so he might be busy talking and seemed to be in a hurry or a rich jerk who was perhaps humming ignoring a damsel in distress.

When you reached the venue you noticed the same red jeep parked in the backyard. The numbers are the same. Realizing the guy is also a guest in this marriage ceremony made you scrunch up your nose. Of course, what did you expect? Wherever you go, trouble follows. The preparations were still going on. You stood at one corner scanning through the crowd hoping to see your friends. A staff was distributing banners and some guests were getting ready for photos. He handed one to you. The place was crawling with alphas and omegas. Even Betas. You still could not see any familiar faces and certainly, it made you restless. You turned on your heel to ask one of the staff for help but something blocked your path. A man, tall and broad, radiating off an awful scent shamelessly; an alpha. You looked up, up and blinked once, twice and thrice. He is wearing a thin white shirt and black slacks, a typical staff uniform but he can not be just a staff here with a lavish red jeep and an aura full of arrogance. His buttons are unevenly done, plus, there are lipstick marks under his collarbones. This man who ignored you at the turning of the road extended his arms as if he were to carry you in bridal style.

“Excuse me,” you yelled, taken aback by his behaviour.

Geto Suguru who noticed you from afar, your restlessness scooted backwards. “And, then the girls say we, the men, don't listen to women.” Pointing towards the banner you held in your hand he pouted. It read — “PICK ME UP” Reading it you let out an awkward laugh. “Oh no! I was just standing here. And one of the guys handed this to me— Suguru closed the gap between you and him again, extended his hands in the pretence of scooping you again. “Hey. Listen to me. I — am — still — talking,” You stammered leaning away from him. Suguru smiled at you, amused at your reactions and the symphony of his laughter managed to reach your heart. He looked like the moon who was searching for the sea waves.

“Y/N.” Your ears perked up on that familiar high note. You would not forget that voice even if you wanted to. “Utaah!” you screamed merrily running towards your saviour. Utahime hugged you. Shoko, who was hiding behind Utahime, peered at you. Her eyebrows jumped twice in amusement. She has not changed a bit, the same unbothered eyes and lack of enthusiasm in her body.  “What took you so long?” The bride squealed, dragging Shoko in a group hug.

“Sho, are you okay?” you asked. She always used to run away from hugs. Guess, people do change in the company of others. Shoko managed to pull out her hand to give you a thumbs up with a smirk laced upon her face. She has not changed, not even a bit.

The bride, Miss Haibara immediately called a few staff to help you with the luggage and your room. She did not even have to say anything. All she did was to wave her hand and you knew you did not have to worry anymore. For a Beta, she is one of a kind. Everything is sorted now. You need not worry anymore except for one thing. That guy; managed to get on your nerves earlier and is now actively involved in the preparations, quite interactive with the groom. From their interactions, you could tell they had known each other for years.  Maybe since childhood. Things are not looking good from this angle.

-

The guests kept arriving till the evening. Generally, it would have been different if this was an actual wedding venue. But, a week ago the manager informed Nanami that they booked the wedding venue twice on the same date. There were some technical faults in the system due to which the software did not show that the date was already booked so, one of the parties had to cancel. Unfortunately, it was Nanami and Haibara's family. Surprisingly, one of Nanami’s friends owned this massively gorgeous house to do the deed without any hassle. But, they had to make some changes and now here you are, sitting by the pool going through your schedule as they fix the lights in your room. Five days. Within five days you should be hearing from the company you applied for the job. Locking the phone, taking a deep breath, and stretching your muscles you intended to go to your room, but a squared blue sachet caught your attention. It was near one of the feet of the table. ‘DUREX’ was written on it. A moment later you saw Geto coming outside and scanning the place. He strolled towards the table. You hid the condom under your notebook as he inspected the table. Not to seem suspicious and rude you asked, “Are you looking for something?”

“Yeah. A friend.” Geto responded with a reflex as he looked under the table.

“Uhm, under the table?” You exclaimed with a meek laughter, unable to hold it in anymore.

Geto stood near you tilting his head at you. He supported his weight by keeping one of his arms on the table and leaned towards you. “Where is it?” He asked, his voice deeper than usual.

“What was the name of your friend again? Doesn’t it start with ‘C’?”

He crouched down a bit, repeating his demand. “Give.it.back.” You could almost hear him growl.

“Didn’t you forget to say ‘please’ ?”

The crease on Geto’s forehead increased further. He stood with his hands resting on the back of his waist, his tongue swirling inside his mouth thinking if there would be any store open nearby. He would rather buy another one than say please but then again, he hates to keep the omega waiting. “Can I have it back?” He bit the corner of his bottom lip before finally caving in, “Please?”

“Good boy.” You chimed looking away from his piercing gaze, shifted the pages of your notebook so that he could take it. He snatched it in a flash and walked back towards the building.

“You’re welcome. Have fun” You yelled, making him pause. He probably rolled his eyes again but you could not have known that.

“Oh, I will.” He shouted back. “I definitely will,” Geto said under his breath, growling.

-

It was two o’clock and you have been staring at the ceiling for a while now. The network was down otherwise listening to music and going to sleep would be easy. Shoko and Utahime were probably sleeping like a log. Your friend and bride was perhaps awake but tomorrow is her day so she probably took a pill and went to sleep. You were barely ten when you met them, and the cogs of fate turned against you when you had to leave this town at the age of fifteen. But those ten years would be the most refreshing ones you had in this lifetime before the tragedy befell. With all those memories bubbling at the back of your mind, you could not sleep. Maybe a walk in the lawn might tire you out. With that in mind, you headed out of your room into the pool area. The adjacent grassy lawn was crowded with lights. They were flickering but as you walked past those lights, they stopped flickering. Those lights were not there before when you were drawing the designer dresses. There was also a glass of chocolate milkshake on the table. Without bubbles sedimenting on the skin of the glass suggested that it had already reached at room temperature.

“Not bad,” A voice turned up. As you turned around you were blessed with the sight of the man who managed to tick you off this morning. “Could have been more beautiful but yeah, that will do.” He added fixing his eyes on you and then gauging you that did earn him a glare as well as a questioning tilt of your brows. Geto understood the congestion of your confusion. You must be thinking how audacious of him to try to flirt with you just after having freshly fucked.  “Oh no. not you. I meant the lights,” he added. You did not budge.

He offered, “Chocolate milkshake?” holding the glass. Still no pinnable reaction. You walked towards him and stopped at an arm’s length saying, “I think you need it more.” eyeing him up and down, from his well-built shoulders to his torso and then, backwards. “For stamina,” you added. With that as you walked past him.

“Why don’t you check it by yourself?” he whispered but you could hear him anyway. You bit the inner flesh of your lip holding back the response at the tip of your tongue because you knew he is just testing the waters, caging you into a corner and assessing your reactions, your heightened senses, and everything. You would hate it if you purposely gave what he wanted, whatever he desired from you to get by ticking you off. You will be leaving this god-damn town in a few days, forever and the last thing you want is a random hook-up that could keep your hopes up. You clicked your tongue. Swearing under your breath you murmured, “I’m already bored anyways.”

The next morning when you woke up, Shoko was already in your room. She was sitting at the foot of your bed scrolling through her phone. “Morning butterfly.” With her stoic face, she kept herself busy on the phone while you rolled to a side soaking in the warmth of the blankets and half-asleep state. “It’s already 8:30. You’re late.” You sprung up on your bed like a cat with its mouth hanging open. Shoko smiled. “Oh dear! Do you still fall for this? You’re still such a baby.” Your heart was pounding against your chest, blood rushing through your veins vigorously as you were still sinking into reality.

“Shooo, I was having a nice dream,” You whined getting out of bed. After taking a shower and getting ready you accompanied her for breakfast. Utahime, Haibara, Nanami and his bride were already there. Someone was missing but given the circumstances of the last night if he did not show up at all during breakfast you would not be so surprised. Greeting everyone good morning you took a seat next to Utahime. Shoko sat beside you. This mansion, owned by that guy, looked so different during daylight. There were no people, no hubbub no prying eyes and most importantly, no questioning faces and company which seemed to be present in abundance at such occasions like this.

“Nice house.” You remarked with a smile looking at Nanami. You have only seen him in video calls, whenever your friend used to call you but now that you are seeing him in person you can feel how much he is every bit of the goodness she spoke of.

“It’s Geto’s.” He responded taking butter toast from the master plate.

“What’s his full name?” you asked drinking in the beauty of his house as you fidgeted with your plate.

“Suguru Geto.” a male voice emerged from your back.

“What?” You gasped. Suguru was standing behind you. His presence was so overwhelming. He was standing right behind you and you did not even feel it like other times, like those two encounters. So, he has control on his pheromones; he is not just some spoiled rich brat.

“My name. Suguru Geto” He repeated as he stood beside you for a second, locking his eyes with you, and then continued to walk away from you to take a seat opposite to you. You smiled to yourself as embarrassment seeped deep into your bones. Shoko cleared her throat giving you a knowing look. Suguru kept piling up food on his plate while you were almost done with your breakfast. Six slices of butter toast, two half-boiled eggs, and a bowl of chicken soup. When he looked for the salt, his eyes landed on yours which were on his plate.

“I have a big appetite this morning.” He uttered in low breath reading your thoughts. Your eyes immediately flashed at him, nose inflated as you grabbed a glass of juice shooting him a warm smile. You excused yourself as soon as you could. Any longer than this, and you would have to talk with him. You better flee before he tries to spin another web of his chram around you. Something tells you he is not good as he seems to be.

-

Nanami is dressed in hakama, wearing a face mask covering his eyes and nose, not the mouth. The bride has the same mask but of different color, color of her choice. He stares at the phtoframe laying on the bed side table. It has a picture of a woman, he knows her. Suguru enters his room, halts noticing Nanami fully dressed and staring at the phto.

"isn't this gojo-san's mother?" Nanami asks looking at Suguru who is busy adjusting his hand cufflings.

"Yes."

"Oh! these anklets, i remember these anklets." Nanami points out touching her feet in the picture. "Gojo-san had all of us begging to get him these from his mom and then finally he asked you." Nanami looks at Suguru posing a question, "don't you remember?"

"Yes. I do." Suguru answers gravely taking the photo from Nanami's hand and giving him a box. It contains a necklace which he is suppossed to give it to his bride, tonight.

Nanami's lips went flat, he knows he is stepping into a place where he should not yet he asks, "don't you know to whom Gojo-san gave those anklets?" Suguru keeps the photoframe inside the cupboard feezing in place. The door of the cupboard is still open and he has not turned around. He knows, if he does he has to face something he does not want to, his last meet with himself, his last words to him, a constant loop he often sees in his sleep.

"Let's go, everyone." Haibara yells filling the deadly silence. "The ceremony is about to begin." And then walks away shooting both of them a smile. Nanami clear his throat and checks himself for one last time in the mirror.

"Don't worry. You look just fine," Suguru exclaims with tight smile on his face. Nanami just shakes his head releasing an exhale and then, leaves. Suguru closes the cupboard and follows. The less he opens that particular cabinet, the better.

People have gathered here for this auspicious ceremony. Nanami and Miss Haibara will be tieing threads on each other's hands after removing the mask that they were supposed to wear throughout the whole ritual. Geto watches them as they slowly walk towards the centre of the venue, thinking was it all so necessary to do this? He even asked Haibara about it and he said how some traditional rituals are need to be done to be a part of the clan, and they themselves wanted to do it so the other family members are just showing their support by being present in the ceremony. The main modern wedding would be held two days later. Geto notices that you walk away holding a glass of chmapange as soon as the ceremony begins. You have been drinking for a while, he has noticed it. You went towards the exit, outside the house where there are no crowds, no eyes, no people and no questions.

Haibara leans towards Geto whispering, "Now, they're going to exchange traditional jewellery that has been passed down since generations."

Geto just gives him a nod and suddenly, Nanami's words echo at the back of his mind,"don't you know to whom Gojo-san gave those anklets?" He gulps, his vision becomes blur for a second and before it gets worse he stands up, smiling towards Haibara he excuses himself out of the ceremonial arena. He walks towards a less crowded place where nobody can see him, nobody will know about him and then he picks up a sweet alluring scent. He lets his eyes scan the place around,and then spots a woman dressed in red dress standing by the pavement.

"Hi" Suguru greets and his eyes go wide seeing you. He notices a whole wine bottle in your hand. Ahh!that's why. He must admit you have a very oddly sweet scent. But why are you here? Maybe you are waiting to meet someone, perhaps your lover, or your alpha otherwise why would you let your scent hit the air so freely. He can not help but think why you are alone, here, out in the cold.

"Oh! hi" You greet.

"waiting for someone?"

"what?" You say and then pick up on his cue. "No, no. Just having some fresh air,"

"Do you mind?" He asks letting his eyes scrutinize your body from head to toe extending his hand to his collar, freeing the button.

"what?" You yell."absolutely not. what're you even thinking?" Suguru scoffs as you misunderstand his intentions, giving you the shawl to you. "This is ridiculous." You add and then turn on your heel to leave but a warm shawl wraps around your body. You look at him and find him inches away surprised that he picked up on the fact that you were cold; not only that, you were cold and drinking to keep yourself warm, even got your hormores worked up for that, but generally it is said that an alpha's presence soothes an omega but what exactly would you hope for when everything around you keeps dying?

"I don't know if it's the alcohol, but you don't seem that bad now." you mutter.

"Thanks?" Geto shoots you his heartwarming smile. "How drunk are you?"  He can smell the alcohol on you now.

"Can I kiss you?" 

"WOAH! A lot, okay." he exlaims with utmost amusement but then, notices that you are staring at him, and as you do your smile keeps stretching. 'okay. now YN is just teasing me'. You laughter finally breaks as you finish the rest of the champange.

"Are you really laughing at me Miss Y/N L/N?"

"umm-hmmm" you nod and glup before saying, "What're you gonna do about it?" Geto looks at you, studies you, thinks you really do not have any idea who exactly you are you messing with. He takes a few steps towards you taking the bottle from your hand.

"Nothing. do you want me to do something about it?" There is a pout on your face; your eyes are not at him anymore but a little downwards, on his hand upon the bottle he is holding.

"No,"

"but you're thinking about it," Geto presses further.

"nope." You shake your head in denial.

"so, you do not think about me?"

"nuh-huh"

Geto inclines a little, near your ear and whisperes, "but i have so many improper thoughts about you,YN." As he retreats he watches your eyes go wide, eyebrows stretch upwards and lips part. Geto could not control himself anymore. It was his turn to laugh seeing your face fall like that as if you have seen a ghost. "God. i can't belive you fell for it," You let him drink in the petty victory he just had and then carefully ask so that he does not mis-hear neither misunderstand.

"what did you mean when you said you had improper thoughts about me?"

"It was just a joke-he says and you take a step towards him. He backs away. As you take another step you notice him grabbing the bottle of the neck firmly and step away.

"So," you utter,"you think about me? Well, there is nothing wrong with that but," You pause and he waits for you to continue.

"What would you do if i said yes?" Geto asks unable to bear what were you about to say next and whatever that may be.

You smile and it ticks him off further. "How about i show you how improper are my thoughts about you?" He watches your smile fade instantly and then silence surrounds you both but not for long, "Its such a shame, that i can't show you 'cause i don't think you can . . ." He mouths the rest, "have sex with me."

Naturally you protest. Nobody likes losing at bed so Suguru grabs your hand and drags you to the nearest room in this mansion. It is a spare room perhaps, at least its clean and there is a bed.

"what're we doing here?" He asks pushing you onto the bed. You sit at the edge of the bed.

"you tell me," Your words slur a little. "you dragged me into this room." Your heart beats pick up the light-speed as he locks the door.

Geto chuckles at your half-drowsy state saying, "If you are so hesitant to say the word, will you even do it right ?" He stands at the edge of the bed, tucking your hair as you look at him . . . so blur with each blink . . . and so big

"Why not? Why not I do it? I do it multiple times," Geto licks his lips holding back his smile.

"And what's that gonna be?" He puts emphasis on 'what' pulling away the shwal that covered the beauty of your off-shoulder dress. He gets on his knees to get a very view of your expressions, because you keep avoiding his eyes. It's adorable.

"Sl-sl-sleepex"

"What?" Geto's laughter echoes in the room. "You can't even say sex,"

You glare at him and wrap your arms around his nape. "sleepex" you repeat.

"Stop. you're making it sound cute,"

"Say that, i'm hot."

"i'm hot," Geto says with stren voice, serious look on his face watching you glow in laughter like a pearl in an oyaster. "Y/N, are you sure you wanna do this?" He carefully lays you on the bed with one of his toned muscular arms wrapping around your waist while your hands wrap his shoulders.

"Of course i'm. i'm not doing this because i dont have to prove anything to anyone. I'm doing this for myself. I'm strong enough to do this," You move your eyes towards him, continuing "it's supposed to get better, right? but when? when does that happen? and when it happens please tell them. will you tell them?"

"umm-hmm" Geto just hums.

"Yes, please tell them." You murmur, your chest heavs and then as you exhale exhaustion lulls you into sleep.

"Y/N?"

The next morning as you wake, a terrible weight attracts your head back to pillow.

"Morning babe," A deep voice jerks you awake. Geto Suguru, half-naked, standing near the bed holding a glass of maybe a hangover cure

"what're you doing in my room?" you tartly ask. "and why aren't you dressed?"

"well, i wish i could only if you give me back my haori,"

"what exactly happend last night?"

"don't you remember?" Geto sits at the edge of the bed, his hand chinning you up. "I have never heard my name in so many acoustics," Your eyes go wide and just when you are about to say something Geto puts a finger against your lips, but does not touch them. "You were drunk, you fell asleep and i slept in the other room,"

"who changed my dress?" you ask doubting him unable get off this feeling of uneasiness.

"I did," Shoko answers entering the room. She pulls Geto's ear saying, "why did you tell her so soon? The fun was just getting started," Geto grabbed her hands and pulled her into the bed, and the jumping out of the bed. Before disappearing, he exclaims, "I'll tell why,what, where and everything if you tell me about how long you and Utahime have been fucking?"

"You stupid boy. Its called dating," she protests and jumps out of the bed following him leaving you alone with your thoughts. what the fuck just happened? moreover, uta and sho are fucking, dating? for how long?

Today there is no ceremony but a celebration for annoucning the wedding in different clans. Those who value and only prefer traditional wedding, they are here today. When you finally join the guests, you spot Geto swarmed by men you do not recognize. He looks a little disturbed, restless. You have not been able to talk to him since the failed prank night. Part of you is grateful for not taking advantage of you in your drunk state, while the other part is just curious to know what would he have done if you were not drunk. So, you cook up some courage and finally when he is alone you walk up to him to talk.

"Hi,"

"Hello"

"I just wanted to thank you for-"

"-for not taking advantage of your drunk state?" He finishes your line and then bites his bottom.

"Yeah. however, improperly you thought of having me," You add further.

He clicks his tongue,"about that," and then a chuckle follows.

"Getou-san," You call him pasuing his laughter, having his eyes on you, "I'm not drunk today,"

"Yeah? but we have a lot of -

"Perhaps you didn't hear it well,"

"I'm not drunk today," He repeats your words realizing the meaning behind it but then his eyes shift towards Miss Haibara who is currently speaking to Mahito. Mahito, that fucker, who invited him here?

"excuse me, i'll just be back in a minute," As he excuses himself you notice him talking to the bride for a while and then he dashes out of the arena. When you follow him, you find him standing against the pool side alone looking at the water.

"Geto-san?" you call but he does not answer. So, you touch his arm and he jerks it off instantly. "Relax, its just me," you say but when his eyes fell on you, it is so distant as if you are seeing him for the first time. He seems like a totally different person.

"Tsk," Geto clicks his tongue and then leaves without saying a word. You stood there for a while and then, quitely you joined your friends. Yeah, that is what you have been doing since day one, talking and chatting with friends, catching up with them. But they are all busy, Shoko and Utahime are together at a table, Haibara is talking and attending the guests, Mei-Mei busy getting some guy's attention. He must be someone rich. You are just all alone. Your eyes scan all the guests and then stills at a particular figure. A tall man with white hair, eye so as blue as the sky, wearing a wedding suit, the diamond shining on his ring finger and he shoots a smile at you. You start to walk towards him but something stop you, Shoko's hand. "Y/N you okay? you look as if you've seen a ghost," she is so blur right now. You close your eyes and then open looking at his direction; he is gone. It has been a while since Satoru has not visited you for a while. Even now, as you try to uproot him from your life he comes boucning back. When this is going to end? when will be over him? why did he had to leave anyways that day?

It is almost midnight. You are as usual at the pool side, but today you are here for a reason. The sky tonight is adorned with stars and among those million stars two of them would be your parents. You heard a set of footsteps knowing full well in your gut that who could it be. "can't sleep?" You registered his presence as he sat beside you but you did not bother to answer him right away. "I was looking for you," Suguru added; turning your head in his direction you smiled. He swore his heart just stopped for a second. Maybe you are angry or gonna yell at him or slap him or maybe do nothing at all, just ignore him which is the worst.

"In the middle of the night? what for?" You pause to inspect his expression for a moment. Suguru tries to say something. He still feels bad about how he walked away from you in the middle of the ceremony. He will get an earful from Kento and Yu tomorrow for abandoning the ceremony like that, but what unsettles him is the fact that he hurt you; he knows he did, and he can see it on your face even now. He has fucked omegas, even betas before and never before has he had to cross so many bumps. Perhaps, it is harder because you are connected to his friend's circle.

Suguru's eyes glanced downwards. He picks his nails before grabbing your hand to pull it upon his face, "I wanted to see you."

"I think I missed you." There is confusion lingering in his eyes as your palms remain fisted. You slowly let your fingers touch his skin pushing him to the point of closing his eyes. His head arches, and tilts before his lips peck your palms.

"I don't have your friend with me tonight." You say and it seems that he knew what exactly you meant. He does not answer just stares, longer than usual. Did he think that you'd let him fuck without protection?  It is such a shame that you think so; did Suguru want to see you just for the sex, just to keep the end of his bargain or whatever silly challenge you two had? He is now more confused than before; like are you angry at him or just upset? He stands up without letting go of your hand.

As he guides you to his room, you remember the previous failed attempts but his deep, commanding tone interrupts. "Don't worry. I have it with me." He lets you enter the room first, still holding your hand; placing a kiss on your cheek he makes you twirl once and lets go of you. He pushes the door with his foot without averting his eyes from you, leaning against it.

"What was that for?" You chuckle and ask. There is slow jazz music playing. You look around till you find the source, an old vinyl player.

"Wanna dance?" Suguru asks. "With me?" and all he gets as a response is a dip in between your eyebrows, a long hum and an upside curve of lips. He chuckles at your expressions and walks towards you.

"I don't know, can you?" you say as he tries to put his arm around your waist.

Another challenge. So amusing. You bite your lip as he leans towards you. There is a fair amount of space between you and him, still, you swayed back, just a little. "um. You wouldn't know unless you try," he said flattening his palm before you. You narrow your eyes on him, giving him a look full of scepticism but as you keep your hand in his he lets out a throaty chuckle.

"what's wrong?" you ask but that just expands his laughter.

He cleared his throat, and scratched his nose before saying, "Your hands are so small." You look at your hands and think how funny it is that he noticed it now even though he had a lot of chances to map his hand against yours. Your nostrils flair up in embarrassment with a slight tinge of anger making you pull away your palm and step backwards.

Suguru's instincts kick in. "Backing down from a challenge so soon, huh?" He asks holding tight on to your hand before pulling you into his body. He seems so firm against you. No wonder your small hands made him laugh. You wanted to say something but as you opened your mouth to speak, you realized how dry your throat is. Wetting your lips you guide his hand around your waist. As both of you start to dance, it seems that your body is practically glued against his. The feeling of skin against the skin with just the barrier of clothes in between, breaths hitting each other, and some wild thoughts running behind those eyes as they look into each other. His hand which you guided at your valley of waist has now travelled upwards enough to undo the zip. You think he is gonna unzip your dress but rather he lets you one slow twirl and then pulls you into his body again. He leans into your ear and you think he is finally going to kiss you. Maybe there is a 'no kiss on the lips' rule or he starts with a neck, or behind the ear but you hear his hoarse whisper, "Are you on suppressants?" You open your eyes, surprise takes control of your body. You blink, and you bite your bottom lip.

NO. "should I have been? I mean people don't generally use suppressants anymore. And, my heart cycle is not unruly but maybe I should have been. . . but who knew I'd sleep with an alpha...and your thoughts keep spiralling. Geto takes your silence as a 'YES' and takes this opportunity to grab your face and kiss your lips. The sweet scent of wine lulls your spiraling thoughts and you grab onto his wrists deepening the kiss. You whimper as he pushes his tongue. Okay, so he likes to take things fast. why did you think it otherwise again? He unzips your dress swiftly. Without finding the hook of your bra, he breaks the kiss, a little bashful about how ready you are: oozing with a desire to mate, not taking suppressants; he wonders if he will find a panty under your dress if he ran his fingers up along your inner thighs.

"Kiss me again," you demand and as both of you recollect breaths, you stand on your toes trying to kiss him but he moves his face away. Suguru licks his lips. You are going fast, and he does not want that. He wants this to be agonizingly slow, so slow that you have to beg him and when this is all over everything will be drilled in your mind. The rejection does not surprise you, nor hurt you but it does make you nervous. Maybe he is the type to fuck only after getting a blow job. Your hands are now upon his chest and his around your torso but when you try to push him away, you fail; he does not let you. What he does sure tingles your skin. He keeps up with your eager curious eyes, and his index and thumb pinch your half-aroused nipple. Just another whimper escaped from you before it became fully aroused. But your parting mouth, closed eyes as he touches you more, squeezes your boob harder threatens him to give you what you want and silence those needy whimpers but instead, he lets his instinct take over. Suguru kisses your neck, slowly, as his hand abuses your boob. Your body arches a little and he pushes his leg in between yours. The sucks start to get strong before his teeth come to play while his knee nudges your vagina. As your hands run through his long shoulder-length hair he presses his knee against your cunt and he feels your warm juices coating his slacks. He takes a break from bruising your neck anymore only to say, "Seriously? no pants either?" Just how desperate are you, yn?

"Ugh! I had no idea that we'd do this today after you-" You pause noticing a crease in his eyebrows and regret accumulates at the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah, about that. I just needed to cool off." He lets his nose nestle against your cheeks as he whispers, "Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." You let out a short-lived chuckle thinking how he thought it hurt you. It did, but not too much to lose your sleep over it so that Geto finds you sitting by the poolside at midnight.

"umm-hmmm," a quiet hum before his hands travel under the skirt of your dress. He cups your bare cunt before ruthlessly pushing his finger inside you. You grab his loose t-shirt as he starts to move his finger, slowly, in and out. The veil of pleasure slowly starts to encapsulate you making your legs weak. Unable to hold himself back, he starts to kiss you again because every time he does your nose and lips become a little red. You can not see them but he can; the parted lips, reddened nose and lips, and that panting face craving for more is just the other side of a full moon.

"wanna take this to bed?" he says pulling just a thread away from your lips. You just give him a nod. He cleans his middle finger by licking them, watching your face fall. "What?"

"never do that again," you exclaim with surprise as he drags you to his bed. There is an adjacent bedroom where Suguru generally brings his girls but not tonight, tonight is not just special but just different from his other one-night stands. He sits at the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap effortlessly. It takes you with so much surprise that he has such strength in him.

"You think, we would do this again?"  he asks pulling your legs to one side.

"what? no"

"why 'no' why not 'oh yes' ?" and both of you share a laugh before he sternly commands. "put your hands around me, in."  And you do, you listen to him. You curl your arms around his shoulders and at the same time, feel two of his fingers push inside you. He does not make you wait much as he picks up the pace. Two fingers move up and down, rashly and your mind becomes mushy again. Suguru lets out a chuckle as your hand grabs onto his shirt. You let out a sharp moan, feeling his teeth on your nipple over your dress. He desperately sucks on to them over the cloth.

"wait, lemme just," and you push your dress down to your waist without any hesitation. Sure, Suguru likes bold girls but you are not just bold, you are a little unaware of the consequences of such bold, unfiltered coupling and that too without being on suppressants. Suguru takes his fingers out of your cunt and grabs your boob which has been neglected till now. While his mouth sucks the other, his palm starts to massage. Part of him thinks, maybe you are entering your heat cycle. Sometimes coupling with an alpha might commence an omega's heat cycle; the other part of him thinks that a feisty girl like you would be able to sense if one is entering into a heat cycle. Besides, it would be a hassle to have sex with an omega who is about to enter her heat cycle. Some people might love to do it, but not him. Some omegas become too demanding at this state and with the minimum time he has spent with you, it would be a gamble to predict how you would be in bed during the heat cycle. Suguru pulls away from sucking your tits and looks at you. You let his hair lose, carcasses through his wavy locks, skim through his hair and finally tug at his hair exposing his neck this time. He has you now seated cross-legged on his lap. He feels the strain in his sweatpants. All he wants to do is to have you all on fours and fuck you till he feels the high of it. But he lets you do what you are trying to do: following his patterns. Omegas generally do it, while being in the heat or the advent of it but you would not do it. You are not in your heat cycle, are you? As you kiss him, suck his skin and bite near his collar bones one of his hands supports you while the other aid to the strain in his pants but he fails at that deliberately because every time you buck your hips.

"Wait, stop. Lemme just make it easier for you." He barks and scoots backwards against the headboard. You get rid of your dress and discard it on the floor. Suguru's eyes travel up and down your body. Your body is not spotless, there are moles, stretch marks, and cuts and he leans forward to find out how it would feel against his lips and tongue you stop him. You run your hands from between his collarbone and his navel bottom. "Haha fair enough," he says and gets rid of his t-shirt. You take his cock out of his pants rubbing the foreskin, touching the tip before adjusting it to your entrance. Suguru grabs the condom from the drawer but sees you struggle to sit on his cock, the same question reverts in his mind. The answer to it could only be yes and at the same time, you would not realize the gravity of your state would be because this is the first time you are having sex with an alpha. So, carefully he chins up your face and asks, "Yn, is this your first time with an alpha?"

"Yes." Finally, you said something instead of nodding. He was starting to get worried. Wait. what? You said what? A yes? Oh, a thousand heaven fucks!

"Is that bad?" You ask seeing him glitching like that.

"Nope. Not at all," He quipped. He scratches his forehead in frustration with his thumb because he is sure he is responsible for your current state since you were sober and perfectly in your senses just a while ago; Fuck! he knew it was a bad idea to fuck you in his room and also not to let you take suppressants. He curls his arm around you immediately he lays you flat on his bed. "Alright! yn. Listen to me and Listen to me very carefully," He says and you smile like a baby, like that day when you were drunk. He hates this. Oh God! he hates this so much. "If you feel anything is gonna hurt you, just tell me. You get it?" He stares down at you as you watch him intently with your eyebrows congested. He pushes aside your hair and clusters them in his hand. "You understand. You nod." You give him a nod, saying, "Sure. Got it." You thanked the heavens for being able to respond properly. Not only this is your first time with an alpha, but also like the 'first time.' ever. Geto is gonna flip out if he finds out about that too. He grabs two pillows, one he places under your head and the other under your lower back. He captures all his hair and ties it in a bun. "Tell me if it hurts," he says before pushing the crown of his head inside your feminity. You grab the pillow in anticipation but slowly feel him pushing inside you, filling you and you release a full long breath as he starts to move in and out, slow and steady so it would ease your entrance. He hunches down, his nose grazing against your hot skin along your cheeks and he starts to pick up the pace a little."You okay, yn?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." You answer and feel an immediate strong push against your hips. Suguru grunts feeling you sheath him. "Suguru," you call his name softly, hesitantly.

"Am I hurting you,yn?" He asks with a worried tone.

"Uhmm. no. no. I think you didn't wear a condom," you exclaim showing the packet. And it strikes him that he could use your state to his advantage. Your senses are dull, you are vulnerable, needy and so very tempting. why should he resist you when he is barely holding back?

"Well, shouldn't you have told me before I put us inside you?" he exclaims menacingly watching the light in your eyes fade. "Don't worry I'll pull out." He scoops you into his lap starting to buck his hips against you. "I'm good at that,"  Well, of course you are, Mr.Cassanova; that worried you for a second, bringing back flashbacks that you ought to keep sealed, flashbacks that seemed memories of another person, flashbacks that are like yellow snow.

"you can get louder, can't you?" Geto rasps before he grabs your forearms, tightly as you bob up and down. You bite the inner flesh of your bottom lip tp hold off your smirk. Looking down for a bit, you notice that half of his cock is still not inside of you and, all you want is to milk him dry, fuck him till he passes out. You look at Suguru again, asking, "I can?" resting your hands over his shoulders testing his waters now. He just shoots you a cocky smile before putting his mouth against your skin. This time its so abrupt, so brutal that it makes your eyes go white, teeth abusing your lower lip and hands trying to push him away. Suguru feels your nails scratch his shoulders as he goes down taking your pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking it so hard that it makes you release a welp followed by a shriek. "See. You can do a lot better" He says peering at you. The glisten in your eyes makes his heart thrum faster. "Ahh!fuck this," he growls before shifting his hands on your waist to provide more force to your thrusts. And after a few long and strong thrusts he leans against the headboard watching you pick up the pace. It just hits the right spot with so much precision that keeps you going. Watching you bounce, seeing every lavicious expression you make. . . he is so going to come back to this memory if he ever has to take care of himself. His watches you as he interlaces his fingers with yours. He can feel it, how close you are, the stronger your grip grows in between his hands, the slower your thrusts get pushing you closer to the high and then, as you recoil like a bow wetting his cock it becomes harder not to blow his load inside of you.  "Sorry," he mutters under his breath before freeing one of his interlaced hand from yours to hold you as he lays you flat on the bed again. You squirm, you writhe as he plunges deep inside you. You just came, and now feeling his cock move in and out, it aches your muscles yet you still grab onto his biceps, nails digging as he thrusts his hips. He is panting so hard, you could feel his breath hitting your face everytime he thrusts; without thinking you curl your free hand around his nape, pulling him into a kiss, sucking his lips and pushing your tongue while he keeps thrusting. But the moment you wrap your legs around his torso, he starts to get vocal and fidget. Pulling away from the kiss, he unwraps your legs and holds your calf muscles, gently and keeps up with his loud estatic pumps until he finally lets his head arch back, let go of your legs, pulling his cock out of you spreading his seed over your belly and bosom. Both of you stare at the ceiling as both of your breathing becomes even.

Suguru gets up from the bed and checks his watch. It is almost three in the morning. Yeah, he might just miss tomorrow which would have some grave consequences. "water?" he asks turning around finding you standing behind him. It startles him. You have cuurently taken hostage of his favorite shirt. It fits you perfectly, just a little oversized. You are still oozing with desires, he can sense it and he feels horribly guilty for doing this to you. At dawn, when you will be rested and fresh, it would all come back to you. He closes the gap in between you two, " drink some water," You hesitantly take it and finish the whole water bottle.

"i'm hungry. i should just go back to my room, freshen up and eat something." You murmur to yourself handing him the bottle. You feel estatic, lighter than usual, yet you feel each and every vein running under your skin is on fire.

"Nah! don't go, yn." Geto exclaims hugging you from the back, "This is my house, remember? you wouldn't know where to find food at this hour." He says placing a kiss on your forehead. He puts something on and tells you to freshen up before disappearing out of the room.

When he comes back, he finds you standing in front of the balcony all refreshed, dressed in a white short frock with frills. He has never taken care of someone when they are in heat. He keeps the tray full of food and stands beside you watching the stars. There is a shooting star sailing across the sky and you say, "when i was a child, i used to think that my mom and dad are gonna travel back to me, like that." A scoff and then you look at Geto. "Thanks for the food you say," before grabbing the tray full of food and sitting on divan that had an extension to use as a table. Before you start to eat, you say, "I've already drawn a bath for you. Go freshen up,"

"Yeah right."

"Oh!" you exclaim grabbing a grape, " and suguru. . ." you throw the grape to his direction and he catches with his mouth. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Geto keeps on chewing the grape knowing perfectly well what you were trying to say.

"No, I don't think so," he exclaims with a smile stretching up to his ears. is he blushing?

"cool then," you concentrate back on your food.

Standing under the shower Geto traces back his decisions. He should not have fucked you today or tried to keep you off suppressants. He never should have pursued you because now all he is filled with is nothing but the guilt of pushing you into heat. Wait, isn't that a good sign? He  to never fucked an omega without them being on pills, but now that he did it was only natural that it would turn out this way. He will just ask if he can help you with it or not when he gets out of the shower. Geto hears a sharp click and he starts to feel empty like one side of an hour glass. He quickly wraps a towel, and walks into his room but he does not spot you anywhere. You were just gone. Surely, he would see you at the breakfast but at least you could have said something before leaving or could have slept with him. He would have kept you warm, comfortable and sane rather than some pills. Why didn't you think of that? Well, whatever he could just ask you tomorrow that if he can help with 'it' since he is responsible for it; going to your room now would make him seem too desperate, he does not want that. He takes his phone to text you. should he? His eyes fall on the shirt that he made you wear on the prank night and picked up his phone.

[ you forgot your dress, ] and with that he went to sleep. Tomorrow he is gonna ask about how he was he. . . and one more thing.

A few minutes later, the phone awakes; a reply came : [ no. i didn't. at least check before you say that . . . or is it that you miss me already? ]

[jaylver]

GOLDEN HOUR — S.JY

synopsis: a lovesick jake wasn’t going to stop himself from being impulsive and say those three words that he has been saving for another time. seeing you during the golden hour, sun beaming on your skin, looking ever so perfect, he couldn’t hold himself back. how could you blame the poor guy anyway?

pairings: non-idol!jake x afab!reader

genre: undertone of friends to lovers, fluff, cheesy confessions, romance

warning(s): profanities

wc: 889

a/n: a little self indulgent fic hehe. hope you'll enjoy this! please leave some feedbacks and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah <3

masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.

Jake was in love. 

It wasn’t those typical teen romances where people dated just for the sake of experience, no, it was something more than that. A connection deep enough to etch into the skins of one another, pulling you to him and him to you, there was an undying spark that continuously lingered without extinguishing.

Jake was the embodiment of love. He was love itself. 

It was one of those days where it was only you and him, alone in his car right after he had picked you up and drove you home. But instead of leaving right away, the car was parked a few blocks down from yours, Frank Ocean’s ‘Blonde’ playing on shuffle in the background. The sky was a hue of pink and orange, telling you that it was time to head home, yet you weren’t willing to.

“Thanks for driving me home … again,” you laughed, feeling slightly embarrassed for having inconvenienced Jake, but he was thinking the complete opposite of being inconvenienced.

“It’s no problem,” Jake smiled, and no matter how hard he tried, he was still nervous around you. Maybe because he was dying to profess his love for you, confess and get you to be his, but he was holding himself back. “It’s along the way back to my house anyway,” it wasn’t.

Jake could already imagine the missed calls from his mother, text messages asking about his whereabouts, making it a routine for him to be home a little later than usual. 

“Still, I feel bad sometimes,” you shrugged out of earnest. “But I’m really grateful, though,”

“I want to do this, Y/N, don’t feel bad,” his hold on the steering wheel tightened, watching the sun hitting your skin, making it almost glitter-like. You were the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

You nodded, biting on your lips thoughtfully. “I don’t really want to leave,”

Jake swore he felt his heart stop and revive, then proceeding to beat at ten times speed. The effect of your words surely made him light headed. “Then don’t,” he joked lightly, highkey dying internally. “‘Blonde’s’ still playing! Plus, ivy is next, isn’t it your favourite song?”

“You remembered!”

Of course he did. He remembered everything about you like second nature.

“It's nothing,” he laughed, waving you off, but internally feeling giddy when he saw your beaming face. You were so, so pretty.

“It is something to me,” you said softly and truthfully, staring into those puppy eyes of his.

“I like you,” Jake blurted out, as if the words were poured out before it even went through his mind. He did not expect himself to do this at all. Fuck. 

Your wide eyes and gaped mouth only made him anxious, short silence filling the space between you two. Say something! Say something!

“I like you too, Jake,”

There it was.

“W–what?”

“Hm?” you tilted your head, looking back at Jake’s shock expression. “Did you expect a rejection instead?”

“Well—kinda—no—uh—” he was stuttering. The famous charmer Jake Sim was actually stuttering and losing his composure. 

“I like you, very very much,” you said it again, each time making Jake’s heart flutter insanely. 

“God, Y/N, you’re—” he exhaled, in disbelief that he had bagged his crush, “—everything, absolutely everything to me,”

Jake reached over for you and pulled you into his arms, squeezing you tight. The moment he let go, his eyes wouldn’t leave your face. He was taking every part of you in, gaze wandering every inch of your features as if he was memorising them.

“I—uhm—should leave, shouldn’t I?” you broke the momentary silence, noticing the time gradually slipping by. “As much as I want to stay, I don’t think my mum would approve,”

“O–oh, yeah! Sorry, I forgot,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, managing a lopsided smile for you. 

“It’s okay. Text me when you reach home safely, will you?”

“I will,” he squeezed your hand in reassurance. “You should get going now,”

“I probably should,” you nodded, holding onto your things tightly. “Bye, Jakey,”

“Bye,” he breathed out, staring at you with so much love that no one else could amount to. But then, he remembered something.

“Hey—” he went to stop you before you could exit his car, “so, summer’s coming up and I was wondering if you’d like to go somewhere with me,”

“Something like a date?”

“Very much so,”

“I’d love to,”

“Cool,”

“Cool,” you repeated, snickering a little at Jake’s reddening ears. “Make sure to tell me about your plans. Bye!” you snuck a quick peck on his cheek before exiting the car and slamming the door shut, turning around to wave him goodbye before disappearing behind your front door, all while the only thing Jake could do was stay in shock.

His fingers lingered on the spot your lips had made contact with, giddiness welled up in Jake’s stomach, butterflies swarming and heart going crazy. You just had that effect on him, always, undoubtedly.

It was just two lovers, sitting in the car, listening to ‘Blonde’ and falling for each other. Tension finally broken and true feelings revealed, Jake could die a happy man right there and then. You were his golden hour, his radiant beam in the night, the love of his life, and he wouldn’t trade anything for it.

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog

[flowerandblood]

ONE YEAR OF FLOWER&BLOOD

✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙

Exactly one year ago I posted my first chapter of the My Best Friend series. Nowadays I think it's something awful and I don't even try to edit it because I'd have to write everything from scratch, but I've left it for people who feel attached to the story. I remember getting about six likes and one comment on the first day and that huuuuge interest made me eager to create chapter 2 and then all the others.

I remember the excitement with which I waited and then replied to comments, not believing that people were actually waiting for the next chapter. At the time I was literally not following anyone, which was good because I wasn't comparing myself to anyone.

Eventually I felt I was ready to try writing other series and a few were successful enough that I decided to stay here permanently and create because it made me happy. Up to that point, everyone had been very kind to me and I started following more and more blogs, wanting to feel part of the fandom, to make friends with everyone. Now I know that was the biggest mistake I made.

Seeing things that didn't interest me, fanfic's whose way of writing couldn't draw me in, I felt frustrated, while at the same time fearing that if I stopped following someone, that person would see it as an affront. At the same time, The Impossible Choice, my biggest project until The Fall from the Heavens (which I'm currently editing and re-editing, while inserting on AO3), began to be written.

Just when I thought I had reached the pinnacle of my abilities (which wasn't true), I also started to clash with anonymous hate messages, probably the worst of which were those vilifying me and my husband, and those regarding my one-shot with Micheal Gavey. I know now that taking it personally and getting involved was my big mistake, and the fandom was shaken by drama that got out of hand.

I was a few steps away from deleting my blog at the time, but my husband talked me out of the idea (thankfully, as my stories aren't saved anywhere else − I'm only now moving them to AO3).

That's when I first realised that some people here I don't even like, and they probably don't like me. I wondered, why are we following each other then? Why are we pretending to have any courtesy? It was only later that I realised that to be considered someone's friend, you have to reblog their work and preferably agree with them even when they write hurtful things.

Since I've depleted my circle of those I follow to about 20 people, since I've blocked dozens of people and tags, there's been blissful silence (with the exceptions of when I write about behaviour in the fandom that I find toxic and someone accuses me of causing drama, but I'm used to it now). I've also never written happier than I do now.

Ideas come to me on their own, I don't feel uptight about what other big people will think of me, whether they reblog it, approve of it or not. I don't give a shit and life is beautiful! Although I can be emotionally unstable, I'm only 70 people short of crossing the next milestone of 3,000 followers, and that's BIG for me. It amuses me that I keep getting messages that someone is going to block me or stop following me, and you guys keep coming. It's gratifying.

I'm going to keep writing for you guys, and I'm sure during season two you'll also see my posts describing my impressions after the episodes in which I hope to involve my husband. I'll also keep you updated here on how I'm doing with my book I'm creating in my private life.

Apreciation

@ewanmitchellcrumbs

Ange. I know that sometimes I'm fucked up, but I want you to know that you've made this place so much more bearable for me that I can't imagine it without you. What I appreciate most about you is that you can talk and discuss, that you always try to understand the other side, that you are empathetic, warm and kind. I feel that, like friends in everyday life, we can also tell each other about things we disagree about, and there are not many people like that here.

On top of that, you are very talented and your stories are always a pleasure to read, even when they are short, you are able to build the plot and atmosphere perfectly, something I have always admired. Thank you for every kind word and understanding.

I still remember your first message to me via ask, referring to the fact that I didn't want to write a pairing with a mermaid because someone else was writing about it at the same time. My heart melted then, it was so nice!

@targaryenrealnessdarling

Liz, Queen of Angst! Your calmness and composure puts me in awe. You're disgustingly talented when it comes to writing and you have a super-sweet personality. When you started following me I began to squirm with delight, and when you started reblogging my stuff? My goodness!!!

@persephonerinyes

You've been engaging and reblogging my stories for as long as I can remember. Always involved, your thoughts make me smile. Thank you for being with me for so long!

@zenka96

You've been here with me since the dawn of time. You know that I love you. Your support from the very beginning really makes me feel like I have a friend here.

@huramuna

I am so proud of you! I remember your asks when I wrote Glass Cuts Deepest, your illustrations for me and your uncertainty about whether you should start writing yourself. I'm so happy for you and that you are so successful! You deserved it.

@black-dread & @aegonx

You are my favourite gif makers. Your work always leaves me in awe, you are amazing! I know how much work you put into it and somehow you make even the worst lit scenes look wonderful!

@summerposie; @0eessirk8; @melsunshine; @immyowndefender; @bellaisasleep; @kckt88; @thedamewithabook; @happinessinthebeing; @queenofshinigamis; @travelingmypassion; @mefools; @fan-goddess; @toodlesxcuddles; @ammo23; @troublesomesnitch; @mariahossain; @out-of-life; @apothe-roses; @heavenhatesme; @whitearemydarkestnight; @liv-cole; @blackswxnn; @echos-muses; @watercolorskyy; @at-a-rax-ia; @tssf-imagines; @snh96; @hiatuswhore; @exitpursuedbyavulcan; @darylandbethfanforever9; @the-dendrophile-bookdragon; @opheliaas-stuff @zaldritzosrose

Your comments and reblogs make me want to keep writing. You make me laugh, you comfort me and you support me. I know I'm definitely forgetting someone, but I want you to know that I love everyone who comments on my stories and there is nothing better for me than responding to your reactions and questions! I have known some of you for so many months that I truly consider you my good friends!

lottie-blue-star; aveatquevale-; aemondtargaryenwifey marvelescvpe; alphard-hydraes-blog; herejusttostan; li0nn3stuff; alexandrawho; vilmakamunen; angelinap09; theloveablestargirl; rose-blue-19; xxxkat3xxx; flosaureum; mandiiblanche; librawh0re; jasminecosmic99; ivvypg; rojocarnation; killmanduh; tokkiiidoll; wolfdressedinlace; angelofvivianne; nina2697; starwarsgirlsimmer1; katsucker; ipostwhtifeel; aemondsdelight; ilswemoon; tigrigri; pasta-rask; roselibrary; lystargs; gemini-mama; nikstrange; tempo-rary-fix; coffeeobsessedtrencher; gwuinivyre; dreamerbythewayx; diiickbrainn; mothmankit

And everyone else I missed and whose icons I would recognize from afar. I know that you have been with me for many months, often in silence or communicating anonymously. Your silent support and presence is something wonderful for me, knowing that you have been with me for so long and read all my posts!

Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!

[romanarose]

Triple Frontier Write-A-Thon

Hosted by @romanarose and @for-a-longlongtime

Hello everyone! March 13th of this year is the 5 year anniversary of Triple Frontier, a movie that was underrated but very precious to all of us. To me, it is a comfort movie and something that through fics and fandom has helped me process a lot of things. 

Charlie Hunnam announced recently that there is potential for a sequel and he is trying to get it in production and has signed on as a producer. Me and @for-a-longlongtime want to both drum up a little noise and celebrate this media we all love so much!

How it works

Write a fanfiction of Triple Frontier, following the content rules listed below. This is for both art and fanfiction. We encourage you to utilize twitter or instagram if you’d like to share either, and #triplefrontier or #triplefrontier2019 on any site you post on. If you don’t want to make art or write, we encourage you to use social media platforms with the hashtags to help make some noise.

We are highly encouraging LGBT themes and for you to think outside of x f!reader. 

All fics that fall under the rules are encouraged, so if you write Santiago Garcia x afab!f!reader, that’s great! But we’d like to take this time to encourage gay/bi pairings, trans readers, or even trans interpretations of the boys. Branch out!

When you post, tag @triplefrontier-anniversary on tumblr and we will reblog it there. We also may reblog onto our main, so consider tagging one or both of us so we know what’s up! Please follow that page to see what other people are writing! In the tags, please tag it triple frontier write a thon, just to make everything easily found.

If you want to post art that tumblr doesn’t allow like nude art, link the content in a tumblr post, like a twitter link, and we’ll reblog that!

If you exclusively write on ao3 or wattpad or other, you can either make a link on a tumblr post and tag us. Other option is to message me (RomanaRose) privately and I’ll make a post and link you and reblog it to the page.

Rules

We will run from March 1st to March 14th. Fics and art posted before or after will not be counted.

This is not a dark event, sorry! Some of us enjoy dark content but wanted to keep this particular event mostly non-dark. That being said, we will allow dub con in the context of mild alcohol use, power dynamics etc. Kidnapping/arranged marriage etc is fine as long as consent is given for anything sexual. Mostly we are looking to avoid non-con/violence. If you have questions, don’t be afraid to reach out to us!

All participants must be 18+, although smut is not required

No incest, including Millercest. None of the usual ‘no’s’, such as underage content apply in addition to no dark.

We have the right to exclude any fic that makes us uncomfortable. It’s our event.

However, we will NOT be excluding people for personal biases, unless it encroaches on our boundaries. I.E. If we have you blocked, please don’t try to enter the event. However, if we’ve had petty beefs or you and one of our mutuals don’t like each other, we generally will include your work. This event is to promote Triple Frontier, not about us.

LGBT themes are highly encouraged, not required.

Tom is allowed. We’re not gonna tell you not to include him if that’s what your little heart desires. However, we highly encourage that your work includes at least one of the usual 4

Leave me alone I love Arrested Development, RIP Carl Weathers.

We hope everyone has fun and this drums up more Triple Frontier fics, in which we are severely lacking!

Remember to reblog and comment to support artists!

Please come to us with any questions!

[athingofvikings]

Two More Stalkers

So I'm drafting this post on October 19, 2022, hoping that I won't have to use it, but getting it set up as a contingency. Just in case.

Lots of screenshots under the cut, but TL;DR:

I have two stalkers who feel entitled to my work and writing, and have been stalking me because I didn't write their historical blorbos to their personal satisfaction and because I haven't written queer characters to their exacting specifications (specifically, they want what amount to Gold Star Lesbians with modern-style adopted children). In the course of their stalking, they have made a hate-blog specifically to target me with insults, and when that failed to get a response, escalated to making a new AO3 account specifically to write hatefic of my work and "gift" it to me.

If you see this post having gone live, I ask you to please review it and reblog it, because I am preparing this contingency in case they escalate to the point of trying to publicly defame me, and if I've hit "post", that means they're actively trying to get people to hate me.

So, without further ado...

Here are screenshots of their intro posts (still available on my Discord server if anyone wishes to see the evidence). Essentially, they came because of their interest in the historical King Macbeth and the mid-11th century, which is where and when my story, A Thing Of Vikings, is set. The basic concept of the story is that the first How To Train Your Dragon film is dropped into Real Life history in the 1040s AD in the Scottish islands, and events ripple out from there, changing history as a result.

Some red flags began to wave in regards to these two, as nessie wanted to know what the status of his historical blorbos would be in my writing, and did not take it well that they would either A) be dead, B) be reduced to insignificance by changes in the historical timeline, C) be someplace else, or D) not exist at all, due to changes in the timeline. He ended up quietly leaving after the following discussion:

He then left a few days later on Aug 28th.

Fast forward to October 2nd.

the threat of tortellini starts a discussion as follows:

At the end of this exchange, the threat of tortellini leaves the ATOV Discord server. To sum up the above, they wanted for me to jettison the core conceit of a piece of writing that I have been working on for six years because they wished to see specific developments catering to their personal desires happen in the text. In short, "Screw your writing integrity, I want you to write it for meeeee!" and then stormed off the server when they were told no.

Two hours later, I am followed by @courtlycringe. Now, I vet my followers for personal safety reasons, due to having experienced harassment and stalking in the past, and immediately saw that this new follower was... unique.

For obvious reasons, I promptly blocked the two people in the notes for these posts, as well as the courtlycringe blog itself. The next morning, October 3rd, I remembered nessie's fixation, and promptly pulled on the threads with the intro posts, putting together that @themischiefoftad is the threat of tortellini and that @malcolm--of--scotland is nessie. (Note the dates on the posts, too; Nessie had this hate blog already going before his friend stormed off of the server)

Confirmation came after a few of my friends interacted with them:

(Although it should be noted that I don't believe that courtlycringe is/was run by anyone other than my two stalkers, given the timeline).

I do a little more work, track down their AO3 accounts, and block them. I expected that to be the end of it.

It wasn't.

In short, these two made a new AO3 account, MillieMilkTea, and wrote some extremely nasty hatefic using my characters and targeting my work. The Necessary Components For The Fall Of An Empire is a giant middle finger to me personally, with my male main characters being brutally and graphically murdered by the female characters (especially their personal blorbos) and having everyone cheering for the deaths, and the female characters going off to be good pure lesbians. Nothing more and nothing less.

I declined the "gift", and have reported them to AO3 Abuse as of the writing of this post on Oct 19.

However, given that they have written thirty-three thousand words of targeted hatefic, likely just in the past few weeks (the account itself was created Oct 11), I am sure that they will continue to escalate. I will keep this post updated and ready to post in case they shift from targeted harassment to defamation and libel.

[little-silly-bear]

Roles of stuffies

Hi kiddos! Many of you asked me about the different roles that a stuffie can have so I made this post to make it more clear, hope you'll like it! If you want let me know what roles your stuffies have!

I want to clarify that I see every object alive, it's both part of my spiritual belief and my view on life as well. I truly believe that everything has a little sparkle inside, that's also why my stuffies are so important for me. Please don't make fun of this post or how I see them because I'll sadly block you without explanation, it's a sensible topic for me. Thank you now enjoy!

Comforter

- A stuffie with the main role of comforting you. They're usually old stuffies or related to a specific period of your life, they give you a sense of a calmness when you're tiny or upset. They usually help you ground yourself when you're crying or they can give you strength when you hug them, the truth is that they love being with you.

Protector

- A stuffie with the main role of protecting you both emotionally and physically. This stuffie usually stay the most by your side, they protect you from nightmares, monsters under bed, bad people, social anxiety when you're outside,etc...They're very tough and love their job.

Memory holder

-A stuffie with the main role of holding a specific memory or sensation for you. This type of stuffie usually can hold a single memory but it's strong enough that when you look at them you can't forget it. For example: A trip at the zoo, a friend, a date with a caregiver, a good day, a parent,etc..They're very sensitive and when you look at them they loves to see you smile.

Silly amplifier

- A stuffie with the main role of making you laugh or being carefree again. They're usually related to something you love and that makes you instantly tiny, when you look at this stuffie you can't stop giggling and jumping. They're infused with a magic spell that is full of love and joy and all the good things, it's a rare and beautiful magic and They're honored to use it with you.

Caregiver

-A stuffie with the main role of being your caregiver. This type of stuffie usually represents a parental figure, they come in your life if you have a dysfunctional or absent parent. They're what you needed as a kid. For example: They're like a caring and loving mom, a supportive dad, a great sibling, someone that take care of you in an healthy way. This type of stuffie literally see you as their offspring and they love you unconditionally.

Telepath

-A stuffie with the main role of understanding you or talk with you without words. This type of stuffie are very strong and wise, when you're tiny and you can't communicate you can still look at them they would know what you need. When you're outside and there's too many people you can look at them and they can telepathically send you encouraging words. If you're lucky enough to have one of these stuffies in your life, you have like a shiny in the pokemon world!

Sidekick

-A stuffie with the main role of helping another stuffie doing their job. This type of stuffie usually comes unnoticed, you probably don't play much with them or they stay displayed in a shell but you never touch them. It may seems sad from the outside but they're actually okay! They help other stuffie fulfill their job when they control everything and make sure we're all safe! They have no desires to have a bigger job or doing more stuff, They're just happy to help like this! Also occasional kisses and cuddles are always accepted!

Remember that you CAN like and reblog my posts but you CAN'T repost even with credits or use the tag #mine under this post!

[betryl]

Hampden College dashboard simulator

(credit to @barnbridges too for some of the ideas :))

🧣 françois-abernathy follow

🥃 mcaulay-ch follow

@ richard-papen ?

📚 richard-papen follow

???

📚 richard-papen follow

no.

📚 richard-papen follow

who DOES keep voting yes????

📚 richard-papen follow

who even are you people reblogging this??????

#please stop.

351 notes

🐇 thebunster-deactivated follow

drew tihs

🥃 mcaulay-ch follow

this is really nice bun

👓 H-M-Winter follow

No, you did not draw this.

🐇 thebunster-deactivated follow

SHUT

🥃 mcaulay-ch follow

oh

🧣 françois-abernathy follow

HAHASJHASHJA

7 notes

💅 ritch-bitch-jpoovey follow

real talk what do you guys think is ACTUALLY going on at the lyceum atp cause like i've heard too much weird stuff about those freaks......

💅 ritch-bitch-jpoovey follow

not richard btw!! he's fine he's cool

🦌 mcaulay-cam follow

He still won't sleep with you anyways. Let it go. Get better soon 💕

💅 ritch-bitch-jpoovey follow

what do you and your creepy ass brother want from me OMG leave me ALONE

#i'm blocking ALL five of you jfc

120 notes

🌝 hampd3ncore follow

AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO REMEMBERS THAT MUTILATED FARMER THEY RANDOMLY FOUND IN THE WOODS IN NOVEMBER?? WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT IT ANYMORE?????

#like hello??? #that WASN'T normal #why isn't the police investigating...... #hampden #mystery #unsolved

666 notes

📰 The-Hampden-Examiner ☑️ follow

Edmund "Bunny" Corcoran — everything we know so far about the case of Hampden's missing youth:

https://www.thehampdenexaminer.com/disappearance-of-edmund-bunny-corcoran-1627125.html

🏫 student-council-president follow

‼️IMPORTANT!! STUDENTS OF HAMPDEN PLEASE REBLOG THIS!!!

🎀 bunnysbarnbridge follow

💔💔💔 Please guys help us find him...

👩🏻 dearest-sophie follow

^^^ reblog!!! i really hope he's fine... share if you know anything that might help!!

🚗 flipper follow

What have those greek guys got going on 😭 it's always them everytime something happens istg. let's hope they find him and all's well tho...

5.389 notes

🏛️ has-bunny-corcoran-been-found-yet follow

YES.

#04/14/1983 #THOUGHT IT WOULD TAKE LONGER OMG #it's not even been two weeks #this is crazy... #i can't believe he actually died #rest in peace #bunny corcoran #hampden #hampden college

2.473 notes

🏫 student-council-president follow

Guys they found Edmund Corcoran... He's dead...

🪞 stauralaura follow

HE'S DEAD????

🏫 student-council-president follow

The Examiner just confirmed it. They're saying it was an hiking accident. He went in the woods near college for a walk and fell down the ravine... It was a girl with her dog who found him the other day when the snow had melted and she called the police. Broken neck and everything...

🔍 truecrimeenjoyer63 follow

You still believe it was an hiking accident? lmao come on. There's clearly something else behind this. Not to mention NONE of his friends have ever spoken about it or anything. Ain't that suspicious for anyone else? They have to know something.

🏫 student-council-president follow

Stop using his death as an excuse to start fights and get clout omg... You people are horrible. Maybe let's not make assumptions on things we know nothing about and just be respectful towards him and the people grieving???? The police will take care of it it's literally not your business

⛓️ spik3yy follow

whatever he was awful tbh he deserved it

🏔️ mount-cataract follow

no he didn't?? what the hell? did you even know him

⛓️ spik3yy follow

you're all ridiculous he was an ass and you know it, no one could stand him and now everyone suddenly pretends to miss him just cause he's dead, be fr now 💀

🏫 student-council-president follow

If you think Bunny deserved what happened to him just block me. I'm so serious I don't want anything to do with you.

#i hate this school sometimes #if it was your family member or your friend you'd be devastated #maybe think about that before opening your mouths #bunny corcoran #justice for bunny #hampden #hampden college

3.749 notes

🚬 invisibilitycl0ke follow

stop spreadin shit aboyt bunny btw. he wsa NOT involved in drugs.

🚬 invisibilitycl0ke follow

ME NEITHER. jsut so were clear yk haha

🚬 invisibilitycl0ke follow

i swear

🚬 invisibilitycl0ke follow

listen to my pdocast

🔥 blazed 420 notes

🌝 hampd3ncore follow

THAT ONE HUGE GUY FROM THE GREEK CLASS SHOT HIMSELF??????????

🚗 flipper follow

?????? NO WAY IT'S THEM AGAIN

🏫 student-council-president follow

Yeah it's true... Chilling...

https://www.thehampdenexaminer.com/hampden-college-student-dead-by-suicide-3683920.html

🇺🇸 bornintheusa follow

Nah that place is cursed I tell you 😭 first that Corcoran guy they found in the ravine and now this... No wonder they shut the class down

✨ aesthetic-academic follow

they really did fuck around and find out with all that cult shit they were into 💀 bet they really got themselves some curse or something messing with dyonisus or the devil whatever it was 💀💀 crazy people. who cares the college is better off without them tbh they're creepy

🏫 student-council-president follow

Not the same discourse again... No one cares about your opinion on them. He died. TWO of them died. And you're here speculating on them and still treating the whole thing as a joke?? Gross.

🏔️ mount-cataract follow

no fr y'all did the same with bunny corcoran when he went missing and now you're doing it again... i don't care if you didn't like them i mean they were kind of weird but... at least just try to be a decent human being in front of an actual tragedy. all you people should be ashamed of yourselves.

🔍 truecrimeenjoyer63 follow

I CAN'T be the only one thinking there must be some kind of connection between these two events right????

#idk maybe i'm crazy but hear me out #just think about it #it's barely been a month since corcoran and now THIS happens?? #like yeah maybe he was just #depressed?? for corcoran???? and so he did that #idk #but it sounds REALLY weird to me #plus what was the whole fuss with julian morrow just #randomly leaving college out of nowhere?? #AND let's not forget mcree either like????? #WHAT IS HAPPENING #hampden #hampden college #bunny corcoran #henry winter

1.479 notes

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 9)

Tw: monty being a fuckin creep, vomiting, the girls are fightingggg, so blood and violence, yves being a dick and elitist, using the word queer in a derogatory manner

DAMN i was expecting the votes to be like to go to the uni cause Yves is hottest choice rn

anyways if u guys read the original series where Monty was from, u would know he's like a sub but his behavior depends on the reader, he's actually a switch

tanks for reading, pls send in anon asks, reblog or comments i love 2 hear yalls thoughts and it keeps me going PLSPLSPLS I AM DESPERATEEE

Part 10

The mall it is. You've been visiting the university too much to escape your home and to take your dreaded exams, despite having air conditioning, you're going to feel miserable there. You barely have friends in the university aside from Yves. A change of scenery would be nice, to note down the things you wanted for yourself.

You tried to decide how you feel about Yves. The urge to run away from him and hide is there, but it's not as strong anymore. Because he already saw it all. The mold, your room, your tears, your puke... you can't possibly embarrass yourself again to that degree, right? The worst should be over.

And, he did say it himself; he is interested in you too. So... it should be safe to proceed with this weird relationship. You think. He's already doing way more than what a lover typically does, let alone someone who you barely went on a first date with.

You shouldn't be afraid of bumping into him. He's not going to bite your head off, you hope.

And speak of the devil, you received a text from him.

"(Name), this is Yves. I hope you slept well. Please reply to me as soon as you wake up."

You bit the inside of your cheek, you held onto your bag tightly as the bus drove over a hump.

It's not like he could see that you read it. You don't know what he is going to say next, once you respond.

But it's rude to just leave him hanging like that. He's probably going to find out you're ignoring him anyways.

Might as well text him back. You told him that you're now awake. He must be a fast typer because you received a message a few seconds later.

"Good afternoon, how are you feeling?"

You replied that you're feeling fine.

"I assume you are currently resting at home?"

You don't know if you should lie. But then he could easily find out the truth by asking your housemates. So you let out a defeated sigh and told him the half-truth. You said no. That was it, you didn't elaborate further.

"Where are you? Did you at least apply sunscreen?"

You replied that you're now getting off the bus. You're going to text him back later. After that, you put your phone into your pocket.

You walked away from the bus stand and looked at the billboards littered all over the area. It takes a six-minute walk to get to the Mall, maybe a bit longer because your usual path is blocked by a construction job. The workers gave the pedestrians an alternative pathway to travel.

As you start walking, you wonder why was the bus stop never built directly in front of its entrance. It's such a nuisance to get there if you don't own a car.

You frown because the sun is beating against your head, you're among a group of people being funneled into this other path and you're starting to overheat. You remembered Yves packed a UV ray-blocking umbrella, so you went ahead and took it out. You opened it and shielded yourself from the rays, sighing in relief as you felt coolness instantly wash over you.

You were minding your own business and fighting your own inner demons until suddenly a large hand clamped itself onto your shoulder. You let out a surprised yelp and a jolt at the unexpected contact, this cannot be Yves's because it's too calloused and careless, mildly hurting you in the process.

"Joe?"

Who?

You turned whipped your head to the back and saw the person who paid for your poisoned meal. He took your umbrella off your hands, making you hiss at the sun.

"It really is you!" His eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth curled up into a wide, happy grin. "How ya' been? I didn't see you yesterday. Where were ya?"

You eyed him up and down, he's in uniform.

"I'm on my break right now." His hand guided your back. "C'mon, let me treat you lunch."

You said that you had food poisoning from the place you ate with him. And you asked what he meant by "Didn't see you yesterday".

His jaw dropped in shock at your words.

"It really sucks to hear that, so that's why you look a lil' too thin today. I guess you're just not used to their cookin'. I was fine and dandy." You and him seem to move along with the crowd aimlessly.

You repeated your question about what he meant by not seeing you yesterday.

"I came by your school 'cause I got you some Chinese. I couldn't find ya' and no one seems to know who the hell was I talkin' about. Why didn't ya' call me? I was waitin' all night for your voice."

Luckily you gave him the fake name of "Joe M." on your first meeting with him. But it's not like he would have gotten any information on you anyway, you're invisible in your university. Unless he happened to come across Yves, which you doubt he will divulge him about you.

You just said 'oh'.

"Hope you're feelin' better though. Hey, I know a great place to get some hearty chicken soup. It's gotta be good for your belly, it sure helped me when I'm sick as a dog." You took notice of his deepening southern accent.

You're starting to feel uncomfortable around this man, he's wrapping his arm around your shoulder like he's your boyfriend.

You said that you were full, you had something to eat earlier.

"Aw shucks. That's fine, I'll just hang out with you till my break's over." He ruffled your hair affectionately, laughing as you tried to smoothen it out.

You don't like him. Who does he think he is? You're barely even acquaintances with him. But you think it's safer to play along until you find an opportunity to escape, there is no way you could fight off a 6'5 man who lifts steel pillars for a living.

"You got any plans this weekend? I wanna take you out to have fun, you must've spent all your time studyin', and that's good! Education is important. But you gotta loosen up a little 'cause life is short!" Montgomery is either oblivious to or disregards your uncomfortable body language.

You said you made plans already. He momentarily looked dejected, but he reverted back to his cheerful self when he thought of something.

"What about next week? I heard there is a festival goin' on by the pier. There's going to be a Ferris wheel, cotton candy, funnel cakes--"

You decided to rip the bandaid off and straight up tell him that you're not interested in pursuing a relationship with him. Since there were witnesses, you wriggled out of his hold and waited to see what he would do to you. Hoping that he would just respectfully leave you alone but expecting to be angrily punched right in front of everyone.

He was stunned, speechless for a moment until there was a strange glimmer in his eyes that was concealed by his shaggy, brown hair.

"...You're playing hard to get."

A horrified, incredulous look crossed your face. Absolutely not! What makes him think of you that way? You took a couple steps backward as he tried to get closer.

"I see how it is, sweetheart. You want me to chase you, don't ya'?" He playfully pinched both of your cheeks. You wince, struggling to pull his hands off.

You genuinely do not understand why he has this impression of you. As anyone would do, you vehemently denied it.

"Aww, look at you. Red-faced and all." He giggled, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you away from the main foot traffic so he could toy with you in private. "If you weren't into me, you would have left me to die that night. I may not be the richest or the most handsome..." his smile faltered when it came to the topic of his looks. "...but I know you saw something in me! I'm gonna make sure you don't regret saving me!" You're already regretting being born.

You called him crazy, anyone would have helped him! You're no one special, he teasingly rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, beautiful. Anything to help you sleep at night."

You were adamant that you're not interested and you already have a boyfriend! But this doesn't seem to faze him, he just bent down to your level and placed his hands behind his back.

"Oh yeah? Where is he then? Get outta here, you don't have one. At least, not yet." He winked at you.

Yeah. He is impossible to reason with.

You argued that you do. In fact, he is right behind Montgomery!

He's definitely not believing you, but he turns around anyway to see... no one, as expected.

"I don't see him, do you-- huh?" He was momentarily dumbfounded when all there was in front of him was air.

You managed to blend in with the crowd and successfully entered the mall. You ran into the nearest retail store and hid behind one of the shelves. Everyone was too busy shopping to care what someone shaking like a leaf was doing crouching in the baby and maternal department.

Your hand trembled as you pulled your phone out to see Yves sent you another text.

"Take care. Send me a text message as soon as possible. I will give you a call fifteen minutes later if I do not hear from you by then."

It's been 12 minutes since he sent that text. The next reasonable course of action is to seek comfort and safety from Yves. You thought Montgomery was unhinged and delusional, he thinks you're his just because you saved him that night. You cared as much as everyone else, no one wanted to see another person die if they could help it! But he took it as some ultimate love confession for him.

Then you realize that you should have run as soon as you first rejected him. You hit yourself on the head, he must have thought all the attention you gave him trying to explain yourself was a green light for him to go forward!

You called yourself stupid for not catching this earlier. There's not much you could do now except tell Yves you don't feel safe.

You texted Yves your exact location, even down to the aisle and section. Your texts are a series of panic-induced typos begging him to pick you up because you're scared.

"I will be there in 15 minutes. Is it safe for me to call you?"

You disregarded that text and just dialed his number.

"(name)?" It was so good to hear his smooth, calm voice. Your blood pressure momentarily dropped but rose back again after remembering why you called him in the first place.

You frantically explained what had happened, even your first meeting with Montgomery and the takeaway that gave you food poisoning. Spilling everything even though you didn't mean to, but you're just scared and trapped in a store. You felt upset that he had the umbrella, you apologized and-

"Raise your hand above your head for me, please." He cut you off. You did exactly what he asked, now distracted from your ranting.

"Inhale, following my count." He counted up to four.

"Hold." He counted to seven.

"Exhale." You breathed out for eight seconds. He repeated the cycle a few more times until he could tell you calmed down. Montgomery wouldn't find you from where you're hiding.

"Very good." He praised. "You may put your hand down."

You forgot about that, so you quickly retract your arm to your side.

"I will stay on the line with you until I arrive. Do you understand, (name)?" You gulped and said a shaky yes.

"Stay where you are. You're safe there." He continued. Yves sounded so confident in his answers that you can't help but trust him fully.

You wished you had friends. You wouldn't need to solely rely on him if you did.

"What did you think of the breakfast I made for you?" He asked, in a tone and cadence as if he was casually chatting up with his partner about their day. But you can tell he's speeding through the highways by the intense humming of his car engine.

You said that it's nice. You thanked him for taking care of you.

"I'm happy you enjoyed it. I will be making chicken soup for you tonight, did you apply sunscreen before leaving the house?"

You paused for a while, trying to remember what you did. You eventually tell him no.

"It is important for you to protect your skin. Remember to do so next ti--"

The call suddenly dropped. Your heart started beating wildly again, what happened? You pulled your phone away from your ear and looked at the screen.

You let out a visceral scream that caught everyone's attention, your phone battery is dead.

Seeing that you caused a scene, you flee the store out of embarrassment, forgetting about Yves telling you your original spot is the safest place for you to be in. Now with no means of contacting your savior and being out in the open like this, your brain starts to short-circuit. You begin running aimlessly in no particular direction.

All this stress and explosive physical exertion on you right after a bout of illness is making you queasy again.

But you kept going, just... roaming around while periodically looking over your shoulders. Customers and staff alike were staring at you, thinking that you were suffering from some sort of inner turmoil or drug abuse issues. However, they knew better than to intercept.

However, you focused too much on your back, and not too much on the front.

You slammed into a sturdy pillar, lost your balance, and fell back onto your rear.

"Whoa! You alright?" Except that pillar can speak. And it was the last person you want to see right now. Concern riddled his face as he crouched down to help you up. "This is fun and all, but you gotta watch where you're goin-"

At that moment, your stomach decided to empty itself onto Montgomery's chest. He grimaced as you continued to spew and release more vomit from your mouth.

--

Yves knows where you are. He knew your phone battery died, Yves is just mildly annoyed he didn't catch the fact that one of your room outlets was faulty. It so happened to be the one you used to charge your phone.

Yves pushed the door of the mall's clinic open, glaring daggers at Montgomery as he spotted him waiting on the bench, covered in your puke; noting his filthy fingers wrapping the handle of your bag. He was taken aback by this sudden hostility from an apparent stranger, he looked at Yves confused, what did he ever do to him? Was he offended that he happened to be covered in someone else's throw-up? What a stuck-up bitch!

Yves took his wallet out of his handbag and walked up to the receptionist. He shared a few hushed words with her and spared a couple of unkind glances for Montgomery. The woman behind the counter had both eyebrows raised momentarily before she nodded and picked up a phone. While speaking to someone unknown on the other side of the line, she accepted Yves's credit card.

Soon after, she handed him a clipboard and a pen. He had to sign something before receiving a receipt.

Montgomery looked him up and down with equal animosity, his eyes trailing behind Yves as he took the seat opposite of him.

The dark-haired male elegantly crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knee. Now a blank expression took over his beautiful face. Montgomery took note of his feminine demeanor including his usage of makeup. He somehow deluded himself that he was better than Yves even though he was hunched over, resting his forearms on his thighs while spreading his legs.

Montgomery tried to look away and ignore this stranger. But he couldn't, because Yves was burning holes through his head with his constant stare.

This really ruffled Montgomery's feathers. He's clearly trying to start something.

"What the hell is your problem?"

All eyes landed on Montgomery. Young or old, they're now invested in this sudden outburst.

"What do you mean?" Replied Yves calmly as he tilted his head to the side to feign ignorance.

"You're lookin' at me like you wanted to fight!" Montgomery finally sat up straight while accusing Yves. Meanwhile, the graceful man placed a hand on his chest to express disbelief.

"I do not understand this explosive reaction from you, I have done nothing wrong." Yves's long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, already winning the hearts of the public. It ticked Montgomery off so bad. For some reason, this androgynous person is making him angrier than usual. Maybe it's because Yves's old money aura reminded him of every city girl and boy who fucked him over emotionally, socially, financially, or physically.

It was quite unusual, Montgomery would usually just not engage with these citizens. But today, Yves is exceptionally infuriating while doing the least. He even smelled the same as those rich bastards, they all must be using the same cologne.

A mere five minutes had elapsed since they first met, yet Montgomery despised him with every fiber of his being.

Yves knows his own effect on the construction worker.

"Don't play with me! You had that stupid look on your face, what have I done to you, huh!?" He rose from his seat.

A ghost of a smile graced Yves's otherwise serious face. That simpleton took the bait.

"Please calm down. You're causing a scene out of nothing." Yves continued provoking him. Mothers began to leave the room with their children, and other patients quietly changed their seats to be further away from the two men.

"Why you-" Something distracted him from his rage.

Yves turned his head and saw you slowly dragging yourself out of the hallway, carrying a prescription slip in one hand and cradling your stomach in the other. You look pale and exhausted as you limp towards the waiting room.

"Joe!" Montgomery called out for you. "Are you alright? What did ya' doctor say?"

You were spooked, you froze in your tracks. Not noticing that Yves is a few steps away from you.

"Dear." You snapped your neck to the source of the quiet but assuring voice. Yves is now standing tall, his arms open for you to run into.

And so, you did. You buried your face in his chest, refusing to see the other man. Yves had a pleased smile as he picked your prescription script from your hands, he slid it into his handbag. Right after, he wrapped his arms around you.

The room was eerily quiet. Everyone was holding their breaths, wondering what was going to happen.

You felt Yves stroke your hair. But you couldn't see or hear anything. So you lift your head a little to see what was going on, he rested his palm on your shoulder.

Montgomery has his eyes open so wide staring at your boyfriend. His mouth is open but soundless. The veins on his forehead and arm were throbbing while he trembled uncontrollably.

"Do you know him, my love? He seems dangerous. You know you shouldn't mingle around men like him, they're usually raised by dysfunctional families- sometimes, they don't even have one." Yves asked you, soft enough for no one else to hear, but loud enough that his pathetic excuse of a rival absorbed every word. This was the last straw for Montgomery.

Finally, he dropped your bag to the ground before launching himself against Yves. Your boyfriend pushed you out of harm's way as he allowed himself to get tackled by the unstable male.

Yves closed his eyes as he took a devastating punch to the face, he was flung to the side from the force and it left a reddish mark on his once pristine face.

"Fuck you! The fuck you mean that's 'your love', you don't mean shit to them!" Montgomery yelled in Yves's ear, and a struggle ensued between them.

Screams and shouts filled the clinic, and the patients present all ran out of the room. Those who stayed tried to film the tussle. Some doctors and customers poked their heads out of the consultation rooms to see what the commotion was all about.

Whereas you grabbed your bag and went outside, securing your safety behind the tempered glass walls.

"You think you better than me?! I'll teach you a fucking lesson to be humble!" Montgomery swung at him again, but Yves dodged in time and utilized his long, slender legs to trip him. Now that he has gotten what he wanted out of this scenario, Yves allows himself to defend his own body.

He got up fairly quickly and tried to land another punch, but Yves grabbed his wrist on time and used minimal force to twist his arm against his back. Montgomery cried out in pain as his limb was contorted to an unnatural position. Being an opportunist, Yves took his chance to strike his broken rib using the side of his hand.

This made Montgomery's legs buckle on itself. You silently cheered for Yves as he subdued the creep on the cold hard tiles.

He pressed a heel against his chest, right behind on fractured bone. So Montgomery was powerless against him.

Yves reached for his handbag and pulled his phone out. He dialed emergency services and reported Montgomery as being aggressive, being a danger to the general public.

"Bullcrap! Fuck you asshole! I will kill you!" Screeched the man currently being stepped on and humiliated in front of his object of obsession. Unfortunately for him, the operator heard his threat towards Yves, increasing your boyfriend's credibility.

He tried to grab his leg, but Yves only drove his sharp heel deeper into his ribs, knocking the air out of him and making stars appear in his vision.

At the same time, the mall security arrives with their batons.

They took over from there, it took more than ten of them to try and get Montgomery under control. He was like a bull seeing red, only goal was to try and disfigure the pretty boy's face as much as possible.

He was forcefully expelled from the premises while kicking, howling, and straining. You saw the tears of anguish in his eyes as he cussed everyone out for treating him as subhuman, he wished horrible fates on all who witnessed but stood by. He was shouting incoherently about having everything stolen from him by the rich, he had one thing good going on but a billionaire had to come along and take you away from him.

He vowed to take what was rightfully his and punish the bad, especially Yves who he referred to as "That fucking queer freak".

Eventually, though, his yelling became inaudible as he got further and further away. The others returned to their day, dispersing as nothing else interesting was going on.

You walked up to Yves, who is now gently dabbing his bleeding nostrils with a folded piece of tissue. He smiled at you, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

"Well done." He praised. Disposing of the soiled napkin into a trashcan nearby.

You said you didn't contribute to anything good. In fact, you're the one who caused all this.

"Don't think too lowly of yourself." He picked up a hairbrush from his bag and started fixing your hair. You looked at his face.

The patch around his nose and under his left eye is already starting to bruise, swelling to a degree that he can only see out of his right. Red dripped down his chin and onto the floor, splattering into many dots.

You look around and see the broken pot, flipped chair, and scattered magazines.

You shudder, asking Yves if you could go home.

"Not yet, (name). The police should be here soon, they have to take my statement." He invited you into his arms, and you snuggled into him as his blood dripped onto you too.

"I packed you something to eat." He softly pried you off him. Reaching for his handbag once again, he retrieved a square container before handing it to you.

You opened it to see a sandwich. It's intentionally bland to accommodate your current weak stomach. As if on cue, your belly growled. However, Yves stopped you from devouring it.

"Always sanitize your hands before eating." He squeezed a good amount of hand sanitizer on your palms. Yves only handed the meal back to you after he was satisfied with your application.

You sit on a chair as you take bites off it. Yves sat next to you too, this time he was tidying his luscious black hair with the same brush and compact mirror.

You continued munching on as you heard distant sirens growing louder.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: hump day, wooooo.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Strange how you never found comfort at home. Well, it never felt like one for you. You were always just a hanger-on. A burden. 

As you enter your grandma's house, you can't help but exhale the tension you've been holding in. She's in her chair, reading, not a word at your arrival. You go into the kitchen, set on eating the frozen meal you lost your appetite for the other night. 

You peel back the corner on the tray and shove it in the microwave. As you shut the door, you nearly wince at the unexpected figure in the doorway. You don't know if you're really surprised or if Andy has you jumpy. Both. 

"Want some coffee?" You offer your grandmother, hoping to appease her. "Tea?" 

She grumbles and waves you off, shuffling across the tile in her slippers. She crosses her arms and her lip sticks out, "nice of that man to come all the way down here like that." 

You turn your attention back to the countdown and shrug, "yeah." 

"He didn't need to just for all that. For you, did he?" She prompts. Her interest both irks and worries you. She never cared about anything. "And after losing his family." 

"Right, yeah, it's tough," you twiddle your fingers at your side. 

"Don't sound so heartbroken," she scoffs, "Christ, wasn't that boy you're friend?" 

You face her as the microwave beeps, "grandma..." you can't tell her. If she even bothered to listen, she wouldn't believe you. She doesn't even know Andy and she's already taking his side. Typical. "Yeah, I'm sad. Guess I'm a bit in shock." 

You turn back and take the too hot tray out, holding back a hiss at the singe in your fingertips. You spin and cross the kitchen to grab a fork. Your grandma huffs and putters after you.  

"He sent them flowers," she says. 

You stir the noodles and cheese, "he did." 

"Fancy. Expensive." 

You don't really get why she's still harping on. She didn't put so much mind to your prom or graduation or even when you got your job. Yet you can't be surprised where she's strayed; she's always been on you about money.  

"Seems to me he's a bit lost," she says, "you're..." she weighs her words before she speaks, something she rarely does, "maybe he's tryna find some direction. He might... might wanna take care of ya." 

"Huh?" You make a face and glance at her from the corner of you eye. 

"Like, I dunno, I watch those talk shows, grief is something nasty. I would know," she goes on. You can't remember the last time you heard her talk so much. "He only got-- had the one kid. You're about the same age... maybe he's tryna, I dunno, replace what he lost." 

You nearly laugh in her face. Really? This is what she cares about? You stare at her and furrow your nose. You could tell her. You could try. She's listening. For once.  

"I don't think... it's not... I'm not his responsibility and I don't wanna be." 

"You're barely your own responsibility," she sneers, "can't see a good thing in front of you." 

"Grandma--" 

"Well? Pretty sure there's more where those flowers came from," he tuts, "you got a few hard lessons to learn, girlie. 

You look down at the macaroni. You're not hungry anymore. You grab the tray and walk away. 

"Yeah, well, maybe you shoulda tried to teach me some, huh?" You toss over your shoulder and stomp out of the kitchen. 

You go into your room and kick your door shut. How is he doing this? How is everyone, even a woman who hasn't lived in reality for twenty years, on his side? 

You put the tray and fork down and go to the other side of the bed. You sit facing the window and drop your head into your hands. The only person you have is too far away. Besides, you don't want to drag her into this. Not any more than you already have. 

🎮

For once, you’re anxious to get to work. You welcome the distraction from everything else; debt, grandma, and the biggest problem of all, the one you won’t even name. You stroll up to the ice cream booth as Luis stands outside the window, chatting to Jessie as she stands at her vigil inside. You frown. You don’t see the manager often. Only when he hired you. 

“Ah, there she is,” Luis spots you and waves you over, “right on time.” 

As he checks his watch you pull out your phone. You’re early, like always. His presence is more than a coincidence. You have this ripply feeling in your stomach. You black your phone and cross your arms, hiding it under your elbow. 

“Hi, how’s everything going?” You ask as you approach the kiosk. 

“Everything’s great,” Luis smirks, “sunshine’s out, customers too.” 

You glance around. The picnic tables are mostly full. It is the perfect weather for a scoop. 

“Yeah, gonna be a busy shift,” you pander with a smile. 

“Hey,” Luis wags his finger as if remembering something, “before you start, let’s have a chat.” 

“Oh, alright,” you agree. 

He waves you away from the window as more customers approach. You follow him to one of the tables. You wait for him to sit before you do the same. He looks around from behind his black lenses and tilts to reach into his back pocket. He slides out his phone and brings it forward to cradle in both hands. 

“So uh, how are you liking it? The work?” He asks. 

You’re uneasy. You stare at his cell then look him in the face. 

“It’s good. Steady,” you answer as you keep your own phone in your lap. 

“Mhmm,” he hums and once more glances around, “look, this is never easy but I got a complaint--” 

You blink slowly. You’re not surprised. You figured it would happen. Still, you thought maybe Andy might be above that. Or anything at all. 

“Obviously, I take these things seriously. This business is all about customer service, especially with the Dairy Queen down the block,” he explains, “but I do try to give the benefit of the doubt. I checked the cameras.” He pauses for effect as you shrink down, “you closed the window.” 

You sigh and heave out a breath, “I did.” 

“You know we don’t do that,” he reprimands. 

“Sir, I know but... the customer... he wasn’t a customer. He’s... bothering me.” 

He pokes his tongue into his cheek and scratches his neck, “oh? Didn’t look like that type. When I spoke to him, he didn’t even seem upset. He just asked me to check in, really, but it’s not his shop. He don’t gotta worry about the bottom line. I do.” 

“It won’t happen again,” you wisp out. 

“I know it won’t,” he says. 

You sit, waiting for him to continue. He just stares at you. You shake your head. No. 

“Sorry, I gotta let you go.” 

“What? It’s my first complaint--” 

“This is an ice cream shop, how many of those do you think we get? Not very hard to keep the people happy so if you’re getting unhappy customers, well, that’s all I need to know.” 

“Please, Luis, I need this job--” 

“Shouldn’t have closed the window. I’m sorry. That’s the one rule.’ 

“God, I--” you huff and snarl, “whatever. Fine.” You stand and untie your apron, “get your bottom line.” 

You toss the apron on the table and swipe up your bag. You turn without waiting for another empty apology. Fuck. It’s shitty but hey, there’s always the DQ and now you have experience, right? 

🎮

You fill out an application for the Dairy Queen and a few other places. Your job hunt has been chronic as it is. It’s only that your search for a second gig, is now back to square one. You have only your last check coming to you before you’re digging into your meagre savings; the money meant for tuition. 

Your grandma is back to living in her novels. Good. You didn’t realise until before how much you preferred it. 

As you close yourself in your room, your phone vibrates. You look down at the message. It’s him. He’s been messaging, still thinking he might talk you into it. He is a lawyer but this isn’t his court. This is your life. 

How pathetic. A grown man meddling in the affairs of a nineteen-year-old. If you could let go of the catfishing, everything else has assured you of his character. You flop onto your bed and swipe away his texts. 

You wallow there for a while. In self-pity, in futility, in listlessness. You don’t know what to do. Everything is at a standstill. You have no job, you don’t know if you can pay for next semester, let alone the year, and you’re stuck in this deadbeat town. 

You put on a video to try to drown out the incessant anxiety. Today, you’re just going to let yourself sink. You can deal with everything tomorrow. You close your eyes and yawn, drifting into a haze that makes your head fuzzy. 

You’re roused by another vibe of your phone. You ignore it. He’s not going to get an answer. He can keep skirting around your blocks but you’re not wasting your energy. You’ve told him enough times to leave you alone. He has to get bored eventually. 

You roll over and bury your head in the pillow. You hear your grandma clunking around in the kitchen. You hate this place. You hate your life. The more you think about it, you can’t deny how horrible it really is, especially in the shadow of your dwindling future. 

What did you do to deserve this? You’re a good person. At least, you’ve always tried to be. It feels like a lot of karma for that Twizzler you stole when you were eight. 

Your grandmother keeps up the racket and your phone keeps on buzzing. You flip over and sit up. You snatch up the phone and stop yourself from flicking your thumb sideways. It isn’t him. It’s Kara. You never did call her back. 

You answer and put her on speaker, “hey, sup?”  

“Hey,” her voice is shaky, “uh, I don’t know.” 

“What?” You sit up straighter, “is everything--” your voice trails off as you listen to the commotion on her end; chatter you can’t make out, movement obscured through the speaker, “what do you mean you don’t know?” 

“The cops are here,” she murmurs, “I don’t know. They just showed up. Said they got a call from the landlord or something. Cause it’s the property owner, they can just come in or whatever. I don’t know, I don’t know...” Her voice quivers with panic, “me and Calvin were just hanging out...” 

“That’s... why would they--” 

“Shoot, I think...” she lowers her voice, “they must’ve found his stash. Shit, shit.” 

“Kara?” Your heart races as you try to keep track of what’s going. 

“Miss, can you please hang up the call? We need to question you,” a deep voice interjects. 

“One second, I’m just on the phone with--” 

“Miss, hang up or you’ll be charged with obstruction.” 

The line cuts and you gape at your phone. What the hell? You try to dial back, the call rolls through but doesn’t pick up. You try again and again. You get out of bed and pace, texting Kara helplessly. Shit, shit! How is this happening? Over what? A tiny dime bag? Everyone smokes, not that you’re the biggest fan. Too smelly for you. 

You put your hand to your forehead. What do you do? You can probably get a bus ticket. Even if you get to her, the bond is going to be way more than you can afford. You doubt you’ll even be able to scrape it together.  

Do you call her parents? No, they’d kill her, then she’d kill you. 

You shake as your legs turn to jello. You sit back down and close your eyes. Holy crap, this can’t be real.  

Your phone vibrates. It doesn’t stop. You look down at the incoming call. Unknown Caller. You’re not stupid. You know it’s him and his timing assures you he had something to do with this. This isn’t a coincidence. Those don’t exist. If there was any sort of luck in this world, you would have found some by now. 

“What?” You put the phone to your ear and snarl. 

“I can help your friend,” he says. 

You’re silent. You want to scream at him. You want to swear at him. You want to call him every nasty word you can. But this isn’t about you, not just you. You brought Kara into this mess, even if you never meant to. You won’t let her pay for your stupidity. 

“Meet me at Oxford and Maris. There’s a restaurant--” 

“Fine,” you snip and hang up. 

You lower your phone and shudder. He won. Given his career, he must be used to that. 

[hartlesshart]

I have something to say - If you aren’t going to read the whole thing, then skip it. But I really hope you do. My intention is not to cause drama. I just felt this was important to say because I love this community and I want it to be the best it can be.

A few days ago, a very unfortunate thing happened on a certain post about Talanah and Seyka. I called someone out on what was a case of weaponizing a racist incident. Instead of having a meaningful discussion, my comments were deleted and called “inappropriate accusations.”

Long story short - several reblogged and commented on this post about how Talanah was constantly being tagged as Seyka. To be clear, this is not a good thing and I believe every single one of those post to be valid in their frustration. But I have also seen it happen the other way around to my own work (Seyka tagged as Talanah). None of this is okay but while it is exhausting, remember that mistakes do happen.

So I made a comment about my experience and my comment was dismissed because apparently it “hadn’t been seen.” I responded to this with an honest truth of how dismissals of experience affects people like me.

The thing about racism is that it doesn’t happen in a vacuum. You don’t get to pick and choose who it happens to just to fit your narrative. Dismissing it because you didn’t personally see it is harmful, especially to fans from marginalized groups who may not feel comfortable sharing their experiences in the future.

My comment was deleted and later referred to as an “inappropriate accusation” and “harassment.” Was it an accusation? Yes. Was it inappropriate? No. Was it harassment? Absolutely not - I took time to respond so it wouldn’t be seen that way. However, the comments involving Talanah mistags were kept. The comments defending a fictional character. To be clear, I am not saying these comments are not justified. It is incredibly frustrating to work so hard on a piece only for it to be tagged as another character. However, the fact other comments (including my personal experience), that challenged the narrative that these mistaggings were only happening to Talanah, were being deleted is problematic and a form of silencing. Intentional or not - this is a racist microaggression - and yes, I do deal with stuff like this in real life.

It became immediately clear to me that the goal here wasn’t to raise awareness or do anything about the racist misnaming but instead use it to put down a group in this community. And judging a whole group by the actions of a few bad apples is literally where prejudice begins. All of this pettiness stemming from - let’s face it - an unnecessary shipping war in a FICTIONAL STORY. I was incredibly disappointed and saddened because I know we are better than this.

I am not speaking out because I want to cause drama. Undoing systemic racism is something I am deeply passionate about because it affects so many people in my life. If someone calls you out on a problematic take, please take a moment to listen and reflect, even if it makes you uncomfortable. Do not follow the impulse to block or delete. This work is extremely exhausting for everyone, but it is SO important. We all carry prejudices and biases. We are human. But we can also learn because we are all human. I have been called out many times in life by my friends. I have made so many ignorant comments and mistakes. And I will still make them. Hearing I have is not easy at all but it is all part of growing.

Speaking out like this isn’t really my thing but I felt the need to make a comment that can’t be deleted by anyone. I love the Horizon community and I want it to be a safe and inclusive space for everyone no matter where you are from. That is what these games are about. Understanding people from different backgrounds, opinions and traditions in order to work together. 

You don’t have to be fans of the same characters. You can love or be disappointed with the canon. You can respectfully give and listen to critiques of these characters. And you can celebrate representation even if it’s not the direction you wanted Horizon to go in.

Whatever these games have given you is yours to keep.

Just don’t be an asshole about it (at least in public, what you do in private is none of anyone’s business so…) -> that goes to all fans in all groups. It is never okay to harass or hurt anyone - and especially over fictional characters.

(Also please respect the devs - we are lucky they are able to pour their hearts into this game for all of us to enjoy and frankly the direction is their creative choice)

This vibrant community is full of so much talent and love for this amazing series. I have made some truly incredible friends, worked on some hilarious and delightful collaborations and have seen wicked talent come together to make something special. Just look on the horizon, and you’ll see a certain 100% fan-made game coming soon, which has a little something for everyone!

Keep creating. Ignore the bad apples. Don’t be an asshole. I’m going back to drawing silly things. - from the hart 

[gluion]

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ jacob bae

jacob bae x reader, slight lee hyunjae x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with jacob.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, afab reader (no-gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hyunjae is your ex, changmin and kevin appearance :'), elements of the last of us (don't support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u're remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by @wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo's the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ my life changed forever reading shawna's piece. thank you for letting me write a piece based on your work (if you haven't read it, go check it out!) just like you, i am a sucker for apocalypse aus :')) hope i did justice to your beautiful work. anyway, love wins all coming out yesterday was a miracle because it's definitely made for this fic </3 thank you to @heemingyu and @deobienthusiast for betareading a bit of this! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last? 

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans, taking them away from the lives they’ve lived, everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hyunjae’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember hyunjae’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, hyunjae was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and hyunjae found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hyunjae was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hyunjae. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hyunjae would be with you.

still, time continues to move. hyunjae knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and hyunjae met changmin, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hyunjae was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to changmin, you and hyunjae got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hyunjae decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. changmin became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and changmin reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hyunjae fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, hyunjae glanced at changmin, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moves, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but changmin kept his arms around you, holding you back from letting the infected reach you, from letting hyunjae come back to you.

the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hyunjae, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, changmin dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hyunjae, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, changmin saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to changmin, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named jacob.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hyunjae left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hyunjae’s last words to you play on repeat—the ones he failed to say, the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“changmin, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hyunjae’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “jacob! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, changmin caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way hyunjae did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still, lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of jacob’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails. 

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

jacob still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and jacob got used to the new dynamic; while he goes hunting and you’re tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night would come, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to jacob who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—changmin, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met changmin a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, jacob never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own. 

“i resented changmin after what happened.” you moved your gaze to jacob whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hyunjae’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw changmin,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told jacob that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of changmin; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of hyunjae you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, jacob listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and jacob found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he was born the same year as hyunjae, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, jacob promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and jacob who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “it was my graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i was next in line to go up on the stage until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hyunjae.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of jacob’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hyunjae and changmin now stay. your mouth turned dry as jacob’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber. the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hyunjae’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hyunjae being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save hyunjae that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress. 

the voice was caught in your throat. how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects? how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of changmin that once caressed your face, the lips of hyunjae that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were jacob’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

jacob took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is. 

half a year went by. jacob still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; jacob goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and jacob decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you on the couch, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm. 

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the jacob’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun. 

jacob’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left you as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm, the movement of his chest against your back, the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hyunjae’s death, you considered it. 

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes—they glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours. 

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named kevin, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and jacob grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hyunjae still lives?

but one glance at jacob was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” kevin asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met jacob’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. jacob was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and kevin to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with jacob.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how jacob shines.

you needed to get some sleep is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left jacob, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by, and another goodbye had to be done. kevin stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were jacob’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told kevin before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot. 

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and jacob found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached jacob’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how jacob’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his brother, and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a pear and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of green and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house. 

you then stood in front of your old house with jacob by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two. 

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hyunjae. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw jacob crouched in front of the console table with eyes. trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hyunjae with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside jacob. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind. 

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at jacob and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hyunjae, and 11 months since changmin told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with jacob, choosing to survive with him. 

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hyunjae; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from. 

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in jacob’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and jacob stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how jacob came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “jacob, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger, and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw jacob holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “jacob!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing jacob’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up—making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how jacob’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears. 

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“jacob!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as jacob was with you. 

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and jacob fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but jacob came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, first-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how jacob holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

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