#i just talked to the potential ghost and told it to give me my stuff back

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Can someone please tell me how I manage to lose all of my shit. I haven't seen my glasses in weeks. Today I walked in the door with a stick of deodorant, and five minutes later I can't find it. I live in a very small apartment. There's not a lot of space for things to hide. So where. The fuck. Does it all go.

[thefirstknife]

Hi! I was wondering if you could explain the lore surrounding Saint and how he says he looked up to us? That whole time fuckery always confused me + the Vex apparently made him a tomb? What was that about? I really just have no idea what happened in Season of Dawn

Yes!

So, we should start with Osiris being exiled from the City (some time around the Twilight Gap, unclear when exactly, but vaguely at that time). Osiris packed his stuff and left to go do his research in peace; he went to Mercury for the Infinite Forest.

This upset Saint a lot and he decided to go after him. He even left a letter for him which destroys me every time:

Ship's Final Log: Osiris. I hope whatever you find in this place is worth it. My recommendation to install you as Vanguard Commander was not a gesture to stroke your ego. It was an order to stay and help the City achieve all that it could. An order you refused to follow. News of my demise will no doubt reach you late. I can already see your response—the guilt that will follow, however fleeting. I thought you had changed after Six Fronts; that seeing your people on the brink of destruction and spared from death would be reward enough to stay. To fight. I'll fight in your stead one last time.

However, note the following at the end:

To my inspiration. Your final gift to me I now send back to you. It will be good to see you again.

This was very bizarre at the time because there was no context to this. While we knew some little bits and pieces of Saint's story before, it wasn't until Curse of Osiris that we got the proper introduction.

Fast forward, Saint entered the Forest after Osiris and got lost in there. He wandered a lot, fought the Vex, eventually got them so upset that the Vex put all of their resources into constructing a special Vex Mind that was capable of draining Saint's Light. When they succeeded, Saint died in the Forest. The Vex were so impressed that they came to respect him enough to make a tomb for him in the Forest:

Finding this tomb was a quest in Curse of Osiris: links to the full questline. When we got to the tomb, we took information from Saint's body and used it to forge his gun: Perfect Paradox. The lore on it is also very peculiar, addressing someone that Saint looked up to. Again, we could only speculate at the time because we didn't have the whole story, but it appeared there was some sort of weird shenanigans here that potentially involved us, the player. Important:

All I have left is this weapon. The Cryptarchs say you crafted it yourself, built it out of scraps and Light and sheer will, inside the Infinite Forge.

We did indeed do that. But how can Saint know that and why is he addressing us? We've never met him; he disappeared into the Forest long before we existed.

It would take 3 years for this to be resolved, in Season of Dawn. In Season of Dawn, Osiris revealed that following our discovery of Saint's tomb, he went to work on creating the Sundial. The sole purpose of the Sundial would be to essentially allow entry into Saint's personal timeline and past, to find him in the right moment, and save him from certain death. Osiris tried to do this himself and failed. For some reason, he could not find the right Saint in the right moment. He begrudgingly gave up and put the Sundial away.

When it was discovered by the Psions and used for their nefarious purposes, Osiris told us about this briefly and let us give it a shot to try and find Saint. He advised against it and deemed it "an impossible task." However, unknown to him (and us), we were the link needed to make this possible.

We went in there and we found the right Saint in the right moment. We found him desperately fighting against the Eliksni on Mercury in his personal past, during the Dark Age. We met up with him and helped him win. After that, we talked to him. Saint seemed super defeated and hopeless, but Ghost then told him about the future where people are safe and showed him a projection of the City from the future. We also gave him the Perfect Paradox. Our Ghost pulled our weapon that we made and gave it to Saint.

The Shotgun you crafted in the Infinite Forge is reacting to the Sundial! An onboard transponder is broadcasting coordinates: a path through the Sundial, crossing two time periods. The prophecy blueprint you used to create the Perfect Paradox must have included this broadcast.

This was the link between us and Saint that allowed us to use the Sundial to save him in a way Osiris could not. The gun is a bootstrap paradox: it exists "out of nowhere" basically. We give it to Saint in his past and we pick it up from his body in the future and then we take it back to the past and give it to him. Saint had information needed to craft it because we gave him the gun, but we only gave him the gun because he had it in the first place.

Saint takes the weapon and we leave him in his personal timeline, but to him, at the time, we're a hero who saved him and showed him a future where the City thrives and people are safe. He kept that hope with him and considered us someone who inspired him to do better and to fight. He could never explain who we were, because for everyone else we did not exist yet: Saint only met us because we showed up from the future to meet him.

We end up going back to the Sundial to find Saint again in the right time when he's found by the Vex Mind designed to drain his Light. Only this time he doesn't fight alone and we save him, essentially changing the course of time. Saint doesn't die; we save him and he's able to stay in the Forest until we can open it from the outside years later in the present day.

Saint never forgot about us and how we saved him and gave him the shotgun. He spent his life with us as an inspiration; someone who appeared out of nowhere and promised him that one day the City will be safe and people protected. It kept him going, even when nobody really understood what he was talking about. Osiris also mentions this when we finish the quest:

In his youth, he talked often about the Guardian who inspired him. I should have guessed it would be you.

Osiris I promise that it's okay that you couldn't guess that Saint was talking about a Guardian time travelling from the future.

I definitely recommend checking out both quests for this whole thing, they're really cool, especially the ones from Dawn because they're more expansive and also Saint is alive there. But the setup from Curse of Osiris is really neat because they heavily hinted at Saint coming back since then. Both the exotic ship and the shotgun itself have lore that clearly reference Saint having already met us, a plotline that we waited 3 years to resolve.

Hopefully that makes a bit more sense!

[lonelym00n]

The End.

Part five of The Devil Likes the Pirate Series

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 8.9k

Summary: All good things must come to an end, even if the path to get there is a difficult one.

Warnings: Spoilers for Scream VI, some violence, and a few buckets of angst!

A/N: That's it, it's done! For my first ever series, it's not terrible! Sure it could be better, but I'll happily settle for it being good. I never would've thought that my silly oneshot would've turned into this, but I'm so glad it did!

The Carpenter’s apartment goes from being quiet enough to hear a pin drop, to the loud thunder of arguing voices. 

Sam orders Tara to pack a bag, to get all of her stuff together quickly so they can take off.

Tara refuses, stating that Sam is overacting and that she doesn’t want to disrupt her life here in New York.

While the sisters are locked in a battle of crossed swords, you are preoccupied with your own feelings of unease. Mindy has been eyeing you with something akin to skepticism for the past few minutes and you are desperately trying not to panic under her scrutiny.

You have an idea of the conclusion that she’s likely come to. The attacks occurred last night, the same night that everyone was conveniently accounted for inside the apartment. Everyone but you.

All the current signs point to you and as daunting as it is, you can’t deny that if you were in Mindy’s shoes, you’d suspect yourself too. It didn’t take a mind as sharp as Mindy’s to piece together what it might mean that Ghostface reappeared at the same time that you were absent.

A sliver of luck is evidently on your side, because no one else but Mindy has stopped to consider potential suspects. 

You know that it’s going to be hard to talk Mindy out of her distrust in you, but you have to attempt to sway her opinion before she notifies the rest of the group. 

Without alerting anyone else, you cautiously wave Mindy over to you. 

Begrudgingly, she makes her way across the room. Her arms are crossed firmly over her chest while you chew your lip nervously.

“I know how it looks, Minds, but it wasn’t me.”

She snorts, “You do realize that’s exactly what the killer would say, don’t you?”

You attempt to swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat. This conversation was going to be harder than you thought. 

In the days that you were avoiding the rest of the group, Mindy had opened up to you about her trauma. She’d relayed that her uncle was known as the expert, the guy who knew just what to do to not only survive the killer, but to expose them. A ghost of a smile had appeared across her lips when she told you that she’d followed in his footsteps and taken up the same role. 

The task of convincing the expert that they’re wrong is overwhelmingly difficult, one incorrect move and no one will trust you for however long these attacks last.

“I swear that I went back to my room.”

There’s a wide and pleading look in your eyes, but it’s going to take a lot more than that to persuade her.

You’re scrambling for anything that can back up your alibi. “My roommate saw me! I can text her, shit I’ll call her.” 

Before you can dial the girl’s number, Mindy’s hand lands on your wrist. You snap your eyes up to meet hers.

“Alright, stop. I know how much you hate talking to her, you don’t have to call her.”

You heave out a sigh of relief. 

“You’re not off the hook completely, maybe you were at your dorm but there’s still a chance you could be lying. It’s not enough to check you off my list entirely, but I’ll leave it alone for now.”

“I get it,” swallowing thickly, you nod. 

 “Good.” 

Mindy turns to return back to the group, but stops short.

“You’re my friend and I care about you, but I won’t give you a second chance. If you screw up and do anything else that I find suspicious, I’ll make sure that none of us ever talk to you again.”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, but you don’t need to. You know she’d keep true to her word, and so you can only hope you don’t find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time again.

You remain in your spot against the wall for a while. It’s in your best interest to try and blend in, so you’re in no rush to reenter the room.

Most of the others are still sitting on the couch, Sam’s pacing back and forth on the phone. Tara stands in the entryway of her room with her arms crossed defiantly. 

Sam turns to face everyone, “I’m going down to the station.”

She strides over to the door and Tara speeds over before she can exit. 

“I’m coming with you.”

Sam goes to argue, but Tara cuts her off, “We’re supposed to stick together, aren’t we?”

Though you are situated directly adjacent to the entryway, neither of the Carpenter sisters spare you a glance as they leave the apartment.

A sense of apprehension creeps up into your chest, and though it’s glaringly obvious, you have a sinking suspicion that everything is about to go terribly wrong, terribly quickly.

Attempting to ignore the fact that you’ve now become a character in a real life horror movie, you survey the rest of the room once more. Mindy and Anika are hushedly whispering between themselves, Quinn has returned to her room, and Ethan is distracting Chad with some video on his phone.

You want to leave, to lock yourself into your dorm room to process the fact that there’s a pretty high chance that you might die at the hands of a knife-bearing psycho in a halloween costume, but you can’t. You can’t risk being alone right now, not only because you’d be privy to an attack, but because Mindy’s words haven’t stopped swirling around in your head. No second chance.

So, despite your want to be alone, you trudge over to the couch and perch on the edge of it. Your hands come up to cover your face as you try your best to think of anything other than the worst case scenario of the situation you’ve found yourself in. 

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you and the other occupants of the small apartment, another attack has occurred in the rundown bodega up the street. 

Sam and Tara, who just barely evaded the long-barrel of Ghostface’s shotgun, are now sitting in the precinct’s interrogation room, accompanied by Detective Wayne Bailey.

Once he receives both of the Carpenter’s alibis for the attack the night prior, he shifts his questioning to the other members of the group. 

Mindy and Chad are promptly vouched for, leaving you, Quinn, Anika, and Ethan vulnerable to Bailey’s queries. 

The gruff man asks about everyone else’s whereabouts last night, excluding Quinn who, as her father, he can check off the list.

A reluctant conversation silently takes place between the sisters.

Sam gives her sister a sorrowful look, as if to say, ‘We both know who wasn’t there, we have to tell him.’

Tara’s eyes widen, signaling her response, ‘But Sam-’

Sam places a heavy hand on Tara’s shoulder, patting it lightly. She turns to Detective Bailey.

“Anika, and Ethan stayed over at our apartment after the movie night.”

“And Y/N Y/L/N?”

Sam pauses, trying to avoid catching her sister’s pleading glance.

“She left late last night, we don’t know where she went.”

Bailey jots something down on his notepad before looking back up at the two sisters.

“We’ll call her in for questioning.”

Tara stays frozen in her seat, unmoving. All the while, her mind is shouting at her to jump to your defense. 

Her lips, however, remain pressed together in a thin, disconcerted line. She wants so badly to believe that you’re innocent, but a tiny nagging voice sings songs that you’re guilty and that you’re out for her blood, out to finish what Amber Freeman couldn’t.

Distantly, Tara notices that Bailey gets up to leave the room. She and Sam sit in silence, the older girl afraid to say anything in fear of upsetting her volatile sister.

Twenty minutes or so later, Detective Bailey returns.

“Before you ladies go, there’s someone here who wants to see you.”

The sisters stand and exit the room per Bailey’s instruction. A blond-haired woman shuffles forward. 

Sam’s eyes light up, “Kirby!” 

The blond chuckles, “Sam!” 

Kirby greets Tara, the small girl giving her a tight-lipped smile in return.

As the two catch-up, the sight of a figure being led in by an officer snags Tara’s attention. 

Back with the rest of the group, you remained in your own little bubble while everyone else chatted amongst themselves.

Following the pattern that has been laid out for you, your peace was quickly disturbed.

You had nearly dropped your phone when it rang loudly throughout the Carpenter’s apartment. You answered the call, only to be told by the police that you were to report to the station. The call was kept brief, but you knew the reason behind it nonetheless. 

Things only declined from that point forward. 

You were nervous, extremely so. You didn’t kill the film teacher, nor did you kill Jason or Greg, but the fact that you were being treated as a suspect for the murders had you anxious enough. 

You stood up on shaky legs, fumbling towards the door. Mindy pulled Anika closer to her at your haste, while Chad and Ethan merely side eyed you. 

No one said anything as you left, and despite the want to sob into your hoodie, you kept your head high and bit your tongue.

The officer who led you into the station was nice enough, her eyes didn’t scream guilty guilty guilty like your supposed friends’ did.

You kept your eyes firmly on your shoes throughout the walk. A tiny, familiar gasp made you stop short in your path.

You looked up and met Tara’s eyes. You were conflicted at how you felt when you looked at her, your usual longing and adoration joined by several other emotions. Heartache, desolation, and gut-wrenching hurt. 

She didn’t say anything to you, just blinked back at you with those gorgeous deep brown eyes, her expression completely unreadable.

You understood well enough that the cops were only aware of your potential involvement because someone had mentioned your name to them. You’d thought that Mindy had somehow silently tipped them off at first and sure, you were wounded by it, but the knowledge that it had been Tara? Well that nearly devastated you beyond repair.

If Mindy giving the police your name was a stab to the heart, then Tara having been the one to do it was six shots to the head and a complete dismemberment of your body. 

You were entirely conscious of what the girl had gone through with the Woodsboro attacks, and how her previous girlfriend had been the one behind it all. But even so, was it fair for Tara to be treating you this way?

Since you've fallen for the girl, she’s done nothing but emotionally harm you. It started with her flirtatious teasing that drew you into her like a blissfully unaware moth to a too bright flame. She’d had you hook, line, and sinker, but to worsen your infatuation, she’d kissed you. You were trapped by then, drowning in everything that came in the small package that was Tara Carpenter. 

Just as fast as she’d pulled you in, she’d pushed you away. She left you to piece yourself back together, and once you finally repaired the cracks, she was back, admitting that she’d wanted you all along.

And now, immediately after her admission, she’s accusing you of murder.

Though your head spun from the back-and-forth, you knew that you’d stupidly always be patiently waiting for her to reel you back in.

So no, it probably wasn’t fair for Tara to be treating you this way, but it wouldn’t stop you from wanting her all the same. How could you possibly distance yourself from her when she was all that you’d ever wanted? 

Your eyes sting with the familiar need to cry at how pathetic you feel. You’re hopelessly in love with the girl who thinks you’ve committed murder. Isn’t that just spect-fucking-tacular.

You throw her a dejected look and allow the officer to continue ushering you into the interrogation room. 

If Tara glances your way at any point after your nonverbal interaction, you don’t stop to notice. 

You have bigger fish to fry than your ill-advised love for her, like the fact that not only do she and all of your friends see you as a potential murderer, but the NYPD does too. 

You’re sitting in the room for a while, left to fester in the stale air. You’ve watched Criminal Minds and Law & Order, you know that this is a common tactic used to make criminals grow skittish. Though you are not a criminal, the biting silence in the room makes the tactic work on you all the same.

Your lip has been chewed raw and as you begin to faintly taste the sharp copper of blood, the heavy door swings open.

Two people walk in, introducing themselves as Detective Bailey and FBI Agent Kirby Reed.

Your skin pales at the title of the woman and the flash of her badge. They’d brought in an FBI Agent to question you?

They pull out the chairs in front of you and take a seat.

Detective Bailey clears his throat, “Y/N, we understand that you’re a friend of Samantha and Tara Carpenter.”

You nod tightly.

“We have reason to believe the sisters are under attack by a copycat Ghostface killer. Are you aware that both Carpenters were recently ambushed at a bodega near their apartment?”

The blood drains from your face at the mention of Ghostface by name. Wait-

“Tara was attacked?”

Kirby and Bailey exchange a look at your failure to include Sam in your question.

You, on the other hand, are mentally losing it. Tara was attacked, she must be so scared, so shaken up. It was easy to be distracted by your own involvement in the attacks, but god, this was Tara’s second time going through it. 

Seeing how panicked you are, Kirby has to refrain from placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“She’s okay, Sam too. Just a few cuts and scrapes here and there.”

The fact that she hadn’t been heavily injured comforts you. You nod to Kirby in thanks. 

Bailey, on the other hand, doesn’t care too much about your emotions. It’s clear that he’s taken over the bad cop persona, while Kirby plays the good cop. 

“So, where were you tonight?”

Oh right, you’re here to be interrogated for murder. Any thoughts of Tara’s wellbeing float away at the reminder that she gave your name to the cops for potential murder. 

“I was with Mindy, Anika, Chad, and Ethan, at Sam and Tara’s apartment. I came here as soon as I got the call.”

Bailey grunts and scribbles your response onto the notepad in front of him.

Once he’s done, he lifts his gaze up to meet yours and raises a singular, probing eyebrow.

“And what about last night?”

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling very fidgety.

“I went back to my dorm room and went to sleep.”

“Did anyone else see you? Can anyone confirm that?” Bailey stares you down, a tad bit menacingly. 

“My roommate, she saw me this morning before she left.”

Detective Bailey reluctantly accepts your answer, and requests your roommate's contact information to confirm that she’d seen you. You give it to him readily.

Kirby speaks up, voice gentle, “I just have a few more questions, and then we can let you go.”

Something about the way she’s treating you so kindly makes you even more anxious. Whether it’s that or her status as an FBI Agent, you aren’t sure.

She speaks slowly, like your English Lit professor does when she wants the class to catch on to the author’s analogy buried deep beneath the text.

“I specialize in determining whether certain murders have any connection to Ghostface. I know a lot about copycat killers, and what might motivate someone to put on a mask and become a ghostface.”

You get what she’s trying to convey. Boiling it all down, she’s good at telling Ghostface apart from non-ghostfaces. She can tell the guilty apart from the innocent. Wait that means-

Suddenly, you’re no longer scared of Kirby.

Suddenly, you’re hanging off of her every word like she’s a life raft in the middle of a barren ocean. And metaphorically, she is. She’s your last hope in the series of accusing fingers that have been pointed your way.

Her eyes gleam with the sense that you’ve understood her hidden implication. 

“So,” she pushes a singular photo in front of you, “Can you tell me who this is?”

The photo in front of you is a movie poster, with all the words edited off. A tall man stares down the camera, complete with blue coveralls and a pale white mask with tufts of hair coming out of the top. 

Though you aren’t a huge horror buff, you recognize the character. But is it right to know who he is, or should you lie?

“Um,” you swallow and pause for a second, “That’s Michael Myers, from Halloween.”

Kirby hums, and slides three more photos forward.

The first one has a character that wears a red and green striped sweater, with razors extending from his fingers. Freddy Krueger.

The second picture’s character is donning a menacing grin, and has distinct clown-like makeup on. If the makeup doesn’t give it away, the singular red balloon does. Pennywise.

The third character you are admittedly less familiar with. It’s a bald man with a stark white complexion. A series of nails adorn his head, and he has a long leather getup. In his palm, he displays a glowing box. Pinface? Pinhead?

You lift a sweaty hand to point at the first picture. Your voice is shaky, “Freddy Krueger from The Nightmare on Elm Street.”

You point to the second picture, “The movie IT, it’s Pennywise.”

Finally, your finger lands on the last picture. You’re hesitant, you think you know the answer but you’re still unsure if you should be getting these right or not. Would the killer know all these characters?

“I don’t know the name of the movie. And I’m not entirely sure, but I think that’s Pinhead.”

You think Kirby is pleased with your answer, because she simply collects the pictures and places them back into their folder. 

“I know it's a bit of a weird process, but it actually gives me a lot of information. That’s all I need from you, you can go now.”

Kirby’s face remains impassive, not revealing her current thoughts. Detective Bailey, on the other hand, is looking at you with something akin to a scowl.

You stand up, legs slightly wobbly. Kirby and Bailey get up to leave as well. Bailey continues down the hallway while Kirby holds the door for you. Before you can make it fully past the door frame, a strong hand landing on your shoulder makes you jump.

Kirby glances over her shoulder to make sure Bailey is out of earshot. She pulls a card out of her jacket and discreetly slides it into the front pocket of your sweatshirt. “Call me if you need something, or if anything happens. Especially if it’s anything that could be related to you-know-who.”

You look up at her gratefully, nodding. It’s her close-lipped way of saying she trusts you.

She releases your shoulder with a small pat, and you all but scramble out of the police station.

Once outside, you check your phone for any missed messages. Surprisingly, you see one from Mindy, telling you to meet her and everyone else at the park just off of campus. 

The same park that led to your Tara-related downward spiral. The same park that was home to the catalyst of your current separation from the rest of the group. Lovely, just lovely.

Reluctantly, you make your way over to the meeting spot, completely unsure of what horrible scenario would be awaiting you this time. 

Once at the park, you stop a distance away from the group to take in the scene. They’re seated together on the benches, the only empty seat next to Quinn. Mindy stands front and center, no doubt about to shed her expert wisdom on everyone.

As much as you’d rather turn and walk away, you shuffle forward and make your way over to sit next to Quinn. The group has gone silent at your arrival, but you keep your gaze firmly on your shoes, not wanting to face the judging looks that are being sent your way.

Mindy claps her hands together to break the tense silence, “Okay nerds, listen up. As terrifying as this all is, I’m actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time.”

She takes a deep breath, “The way I see it, someone is out to make a sequel to the requel.”

Anika interrupts with a question, “Um, what’s a requel?”

Mindy gives her a sweet smile, “You’re beautiful sweetie, let’s hold questions til the end.”

 After a few comments from Sam and Tara about Stab, Mindy launches into a ramble about sequels and requels and franchises. You’re listening distantly, but are more distracted by the weight of your own exhaustion. Being interrogated by two officers of the law took a lot more out of you than you thought it would.

Your thoughts are placed on a back burner at Ethan’s voice entering the conversation. 

“Am I in the friend group?” 

Mindy nods, along with a few others.

“Am I-,” his voice breaks slightly, “Am I gonna die a virgin?” 

Mindy laughs through her nose, sharing a look with Anika at the boy’s admittance. 

“Weird overshare, but that brings us to our suspects.” 

You stiffen at the mention of the group’s suspects. So that’s why she’d texted you to come, not just to explain the rules, but to ridicule you in front of everyone.

She gestures towards the flustered boy, “Ethan, the shy dorky kid who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky.”

He splutters for a moment, “Wait- I’m a suspect just because I’m Chad’s roommate?”

Mindy scoffs, “Roommate lotteries can be juked, you could’ve fixed it to get closer to us.”

He remains silent, dumbfounded. Mindy moves on.

“Quinn, the slutty roommate, a horror movie classic!”

Quinn arches a perfectly plucked brow, “Sex positive, but thank you?”

Mindy rolls her eyes at the terminology. “How’d you end up rooming with Sam and Tara?”

“I answered their ad online?” She glances at the Carpenters.

“Say no more!” Mindy barks out a laugh, “You’ve already implicated yourself!”

Sam, sensing that Mindy is getting a bit too carried away with her antics steps in, “It was an anonymous ad, Mindy.

Tara nods, “Plus we vetted her, and her dad’s a cop.”

Mindy’s eyes widen and she exclaims, “‘Cuz having a cop dad is the perfect cover, do you not remember how these movies work, Tara?!”

Tara sits back in her seat, huffing.

Mindy shifts her attention to her girlfriend, “Next up, Anika.” 

The girl blows her a kiss and Mindy catches it goofily. Her face quickly morphs into a straight look, “Never trust the love interest.”

Anika pales.

“And finally, speaking of love interests.” The horror-loving girl whips to your direction, and regards you more seriously than she had the others. You want nothing more than to shrivel up and shrink down to the size of an ant.

“Y/N, who might I remind everyone, we met while she was wearing a devil costume.”

The feeling of everyone’s eyes burning into you makes you want to throw up. 

“We’ve known you the least amount of time, and I can’t be the only one who finds it weird that the only people you’re friends with are here right now. A killer, clearly trying to keep all ties short.”

You flinch and open your mouth to respond, but Mindy continues.

“You were noticeably absent the same night the killings began. And if that doesn’t implicate you enough, your perfect motive will.”

Though you want to scream at how unfair this is, you can only sigh and give in. At this point, you’ve realized there’s nothing you can do to make yourself seem less suspicious. They all think it’s you, so why defend yourself when it would only fall on ears that are unwilling to listen?

 “And what would my motive be?”

Mindy grins, victoriously. 

“You’re in love with Tara, and not just surface level love, no no no.” She laughs to herself, “You’re actually in love with her, and it goes so far deep that there’s no way out of it.”

The urge to throw up and empty your guts is stronger than ever. You’re pissed, but more so shocked that Mindy has stooped so far as to reveal this to the whole group. And right in front of Tara. She knows now, knows everything. The girl who can’t even decide if she wants to be with you now knows the full extent of your feelings for her. Fucking great. 

The last piece of your dignity is gone forever. Mindy speaks again, “She broke your heart when she said she only wanted to be friends. Trampled it even, and you were so upset that you decided to break hers too. Only literally.”

She faces everyone, clearly proud of herself, “There you have it folks, the perfect motive! Break my heart and I’ll break yours, but worse! A flawless romance-horror mashup.”

Everyone remains silent, just blinking at Mindy in astonishment. 

Your restrained sniffles break the silence. 

You rise, not even bothering to hide your tears or wipe them away. You’re broken, worse than you’ve ever been before. 

Before you can stomp away, you meet Mindy’s eyes, letting her see exactly how upset, angry, and ruined you are feeling.

Your tone is even and still as you spit in her direction, “Screw you, Mindy.”

With that, you walk away, uncaring if it makes you look any more suspicious. 

Watching as you move further and further away, Mindy finally decides to talk once more.

“I went too far, didn’t I?” She knew she always had a flair for the dramatics and it wasn’t the first time someone had been offended during one of her killer call-outs. 

Sam had been the last victim to be scorned by Mindy’s words, “Yeah, yeah I think it’s pretty obvious you went too far Mindy.”

Ever the protective big sister, she glances over at Tara to see how the younger girl has taken the news.

Tara is sat as straight as an arrow, eyes wide and blinking slowly. She looks utterly gobsmacked and as much as a little part of Sam wants to giggle like a child at her sister’s expression, the older and more mature version of her wins over.

“T, you okay?” Her voice is soft like a blanket, a tone she reserves just for Tara.

Tara comes back to life at Sam’s question. She shakes her head heatedly, “No, I’m not okay. Mindy, what the fuck?”

Mindy bristles slightly at Tara’s anger, no one likes being on the receiving end of her chihuahua-like biting remarks.

“Tara I-”

“Mindy, why the hell would you tell everyone that? She told you all of that and you just threw it right in her face?”

Mindy’s silence spurs Tara on.

“It’s one thing to accuse her of being Ghostface but to say all that? Really?”

Tara scoffs and pushes herself out of her seat. She starts striding to catch up with you, to say what exactly, she isn’t quite sure yet, but she’ll figure it out on the way.

To her dismay, a familiar hand catches her wrist and twists her around. 

It’s Sam, because who else would chase after an agitated Tara Carpenter?

“Tara, you can’t go after her.”

“She’s upset Sam, and it’s not safe for her to be alone and upset with a killer on the loose.”

Sam frowns, lips almost forming a pout, but nods in agreement. “I know Tara. She’s really upset. But it’s not safe for you to be alone with someone who could very well be the killer.”

Though the shorter girl is still unsure of whether or not you could actually be the one behind the mask, it's the last thing she's thinking of in this moment. A snarl forms on her face, “So you agree with Mindy.”

The older Carpenter is quick to defend herself, “I’m not saying I agree with Mindy, I just don’t think that you and I should split up. Can we keep staying together Tara, please? I can’t let you get hurt again.”

Tara deflates like a balloon, the angry miniature dog that lives in her finally gone. She nods in resignation and lets Sam lead her back to the group.

Meanwhile, you finally make it back to your dorm. You pluck Kirby’s business card out of your pocket and carefully examine it. The only information given is a phone number and her name. 

You debate calling her for a moment, maybe you’d be able to find some comfort in the agent. She was the only one who didn’t think you were Ghostface, after all. 

You decide against it, choosing to instead stew in your overwhelming emotions. You’d finally been granted time to process the onslaught of events, a brief calm in the inevitable storm.

Just as it was weeks before, your bed remains your safe space. You move to plug your phone into your charger, but stop short upon seeing a message.

Tara: hey, we’re making dinner at the apt and having evryone stay over tn.

Tara: u should come

The invitation leaves you frozen for a minute. Why would she want you to stay over with everyone else? Was this some sick move for her to corner you and reject you once and for all?

You aren’t sure what to respond with, so you leave her text unanswered. You can’t think rationally right now, so you plug your phone in, lay your head on your pillow, and succumb to the swirl of your emotions.

You lay there, staring up at your ceiling and sobbing, for what must be a few hours. Your friends think you’re a killer, and Tara knows the full extent of your love for her.

Your phone, ever the annoyance, interrupts your breakdown with the alert of an incoming call.

Groaning, you roll over and pick it up without looking.

“Hello?,” your hoarse voice croaks out.

“Why hello, Y/N. About time we talked, don’t you think?” 

The voice is teasing, like it’s somehow toying with you.

A chill shoots up your spine, and you sit up against your headboard. You sort of recognize the voice, but you can’t place how you know it.

“Who’s this?”

A laugh rings out and it somehow freaks you out even more.

“Since I like you, I’ll give you a hint. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You drop your phone onto your lap and scramble away from it, as if it was purely responsible for how terrified you feel. 

Shit, shit, shit.

Back when you were avoiding everyone, Mindy had insisted for you to watch Stab 1 with her, since you’d never seen it before. You tried to refuse, but she shut you up with just one look. Rolling your eyes, you allowed her to put the movie on.

Though she was providing commentary throughout the entire opening, you’d heard the voice that had spoken with Casey Becker on the phone. 

You heard Casey’s killer ask her the same question you’d just been asked.

Fuck.

It was him, somehow, someway, he’d gotten your number and was calling you.

You were on the phone with none other than Ghostface.

Shit.

The person on the line chuckles, their altered voice muffled because of the way the phone is being pressed into your comforter, “Now I’ve got your attention.”

With trembling hands, you pick your phone up. “What do you want with me?”

“To thank you. Y’know because of you, I get a little more wiggle room. More time to be off on my own, carving up another person or two, or planning out exactly how I’m going to kill Tara.”

“Leave her alone!”

“Oooh feisty, but not a chance. I think I’ll burn her alive and shoot her in the head, just like she did to Amber.”

“Amber was a psycho and so are you!”

“Maybe, but you’re the one who everyone thinks is psycho.”

Clenching your fists, you remain silent.

Ghostface continues, “I think I’ve decided I want to play a little game. A new game I made just for you.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, full of pure fear. “I’m not playing any games.”

“Too bad. It’s a guessing game, it’s simple really. You guess if I’m in your bathroom waiting to spill your guts all over the place, or if I’m under Tara’s bed, ready to slice through her skin at any second.”

Your blood runs cold as you turn towards the tiny bathroom connected to your dorm room. The door is shut, and an eerie silence fills the room. Ghostface could be in there right now, and you’d be dead in seconds. Worse, he could be biding his time for the perfect time to strike an unsuspecting Tara.

“Tick tock,” the killer sings.

You steel yourself and cautiously position yourself upright, ready to bolt towards your door.

“You’re in my bathroom, come out and get me you fucker.”

The bathroom door stays shut, and you’re left poised in a tense position, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, I’m afraid you’re wrong.” Oh god.

“Don’t hurt her!”

“I have to. We have unfinished business.” The words are spat out, clearly in raw anger.

The teasing tone plays through the voice modulator once more, “Thanks for being apart from everyone again, it really helps that you’re always able to take the fall for me.”

Ghostface ends the call. You clamber out of bed, toss on the nearest pair of shoes, and sprint out of the door, though not before grabbing the 3.5 x 2 inch card off of your dresser. 

While racing like a madman to the Carpenter’s apartment, you dial Kirby’s number.

After one ring, she picks up. “Agent Reed.”

“Kirby!” You’re panting as you hurry along.

“Y/N?”

“Yes! Kirby you have to get to Tara and Sam’s now! Ghostface is there.”

You can faintly make out her rustling around, likely collecting her jacket and gun.

“I’m on my way. What happened, how do you know?”

“He called me, Kirby. He’s setting me up!”

“Shit, okay get there as soon as you can.”

“I’m trying!”

This can’t happen to you, not again. Your stupid emotions about everyone thinking you were guilty fucked things up even more. If they didn’t hate you and suspect you before, your absence now definitely cements your fate.

Your only hope is to make it there in time to help defend against Ghostface. 

But alas, luck isn’t on your side. When you arrive at the Carpenter’s apartment, you’re met with yellow caution tape and the flashing red and blue lights of both ambulances and police cars. 

Too little, too late. 

You aren’t even sure what to do, not knowing if it’s better for you to turn and walk away, or to feebly defend yourself like a broken record. You see a body bag being rolled by on a stretcher, and the sight of it makes everything that you’re feeling so much worse.

One of your friends is dead.

You aren’t angry at them for how they treated you anymore, how they turned their backs on you so quickly. You can’t be angry. Not when someone died at the hands of whoever was behind this. Not when you’re being so cruelly reminded that this isn’t a petty fight, or a game night squabble. 

One of your friends is dead. 

You’re sad, instead. So immensely sad. And scared, your limbs still shake from the residual fear leftover from the phone call. The killer was taunting you on the phone, so shouldn’t you have been the next one to go? Whoever died didn’t deserve to, not while you just got to freely exist.

But like Mindy had said, you’ve been brought into a franchise, and everyone has a role in a franchise. Your friend is now nothing more than a notch under the famed killer’s belt, a tally for the rankings of a video titled ‘which slasher villain has the highest kill count?’

And your role?

You’re the killer’s toy, their beat-up ragdoll held together by loosened strings that they’d stopped caring about years ago, but still blame for every mess they create.

You’re the scapegoat, the one to blame, traveling down a path of loneliness and carrying around the killer’s sins for all to judge you for. Just when your innocence is proven, you’ll die, a sacrifice the killer is all too happy to make.

You sigh heavily, the weight of your thoughts resting deeply on your shoulders. You can’t feel sorry for yourself though. Not when you’re still alive, still breathing.

You can’t walk away, because running from your problems has just made everything worse.

The cops are distracted, so you slide underneath the caution tape. You sluggishly drag your feet towards the ambulance, further into the throng.

Mindy’s sitting in the back of the vehicle, a blanket wrapped around her shivering form.

You approach her, moving as shakily as a baby deer.

She sees you out of the corner of her eye. You watch as hers widen exponentially, “Stay the fuck back.”

You halt. The fearful and disgusted look in her eyes at the sight of you swallows you whole. 

Tears cloud your vision, “Are you okay?”

She remains quiet, just staring at you, unblinking.

“Dumb question.” 

Mindy blinks again.

You don’t know what to say, and you don’t get a chance to. You’re being ripped away from Mindy, met with Sam’s blazing eyes.

You can just barely see Tara behind her, looking smaller than ever.

Sam grips your chin, forcing you to look up at her. 

“Where the fuck were you?” She barks.

The murderous glare she’s leveling you with has you shrinking into your skin. “I- I was in my room.”

“Liar!”

“Sam, please. You have to believe me, I’m not lying.” You’re crying now, because she’s still looking at you like an untamed beast waiting to rip your heart out.

Near blubbering, you continue, “He called me, Ghostface called me.” 

The reminder of how scared and alone you felt on the phone with Ghostface makes your cry even harder, and Sam softens slightly, albeit still glaring at you.

“What’d he say?”

“He thanked me for helping him look less suspicious. He said it gave him more time to plan his next kills.” It’s a conscious decision not to include that he’d specifically mentioned how he’d kill Tara. Sam would rip your head off right on the spot.

She stares at you, trying to decipher if you’re telling the truth.

You heave in a breath, preparing yourself to finish your recount, “He made me play a guessing game. He told me to guess whether he was waiting to kill me, or Tara.”

Sam is scarily still. In the distance, you can see Chad harshly slamming Ethan into a van.

If Sam, Tara, Mindy, Chad, and Ethan are here, then that leaves…

Quinn. And Anika. God.

If you weren’t about to be strangled by Sam, you’d likely curl into a ball and sob at the knowledge that the two girls you’d seen earlier today are gone. 

You’d beg and plead with Sam if it meant she’d believe you. “I ran here as soon as I realized he was gonna hurt her. You have to believe me.”

You stare up at her with shiny eyes, praying she accepts your story.

Without warning, you’re released from the death grip that she had on you. Sam backs away from you without saying a word, slinking back towards Tara.

You meet the younger Carpenter’s gaze for one brief second, before you tear your eyes away. You couldn’t afford to decipher how she currently felt towards you. It hurt enough to be painted as the killer, you didn’t need her rejection of your love for her to pile up on top of your already too intense hurt. 

From your spot alone, in the middle of the group, you can hear Mindy telling an apologetic Ethan to get away from her. She tells him how the two of you are at the top of her list, and that she didn’t need either of you near her ever again.

Though you aren’t part of the conversation, her words still bruise. You might’ve called her your best friend once, probably still would, but she’d forever condemn your name.

You wallow in your sorrow while Gale shows up, sharing a regretful exchange with the two sisters. Kirby comes soon after, also checking up on the Carpenters.

Gale announces to everyone that she’s found what’s likely the killer’s hideout, and everyone silently follows along while she leads the way.

You walk a ways behind the group, arms wrapped around your own waist both defensively and protectively. A firm body knocks their shoulder against yours, breaking you out of your daze.

Kirby levels you with a worried look, “You good kid?”

“Don’t worry about me, ask the others.”

She clicks her tongue at your response, “Already did, now I wanna know how you’re doing.”

You reach a hand up and drag it through your hair, “Mindy hates me, probably Chad too by association. I can’t tell how Sam feels, if she thinks it’s me or not. And I can’t even  bring myself to look at Tara, let alone ask her if she thinks I’m out to murder her.”

Kirby shoots you a sympathetic look, “That’s a lot for one person to deal with.”

You shrug, “Yeah well, nothing I can do about that.”

The two of you finish the walk towards the abandoned theater in silence.

Before you enter, Kirby places a hand on your arm to stop you.

“We’re gonna catch who’s behind this eventually. Why don’t you stick with me for the time being?”

Your eyes light up, “I’d love that.”

And truthfully you would. Staying by Kirby’s side will not only be comforting, but will also ensure that you’re no longer left to accidentally fall into a situation that makes you look guilty. For the first time since all of this started, you feel seen, like you finally have a friend that’s on your side.

She smiles at you and the two of you enter the theater. You soon realize that it’s less of a theater, and more of a shrine dedicated to the Ghostfaces of the past.

Everyone fans out to inspect the items. You’re stuck to Kirby’s side like glue, inching your way towards a display case.

She carefully places her hands atop the case, scanning her eyes across the items.

Pointing out a few items, she speaks out to no one in particular. “Charlie stabbed me with that knife, and that’s the same flannel Jill was wearing.”

You hum sadly, what she went through must have been so horrible. 

The rest of the visit to the shrine is lonely for you. Kirby leaves to bond with Mindy, then to check on Tara. You’re left to stand in a corner, trying to blend in with the shadows.

When Kirby returns, the group clusters together, forming a plan.

As you sit by Kirby’s side in the van, the plan quickly goes to shit. The killer’s call is traced back to Gale’s apartment, leaving the Carpenter sisters to race to her rescue.

You and Kirby head back to the precinct for a while, where she combs through her files once more. She gets a call about a new plan, and the two of you hop back into her car, headed back towards the abandoned theater.

Sam, Tara, and Chad stand outside. 

Chad points to you, where you’re standing by Kirby’s side. “Is it safe for her to come in with us?”

You swallow at his retort.

Kirby calmly comes to your defense, “Safer than leaving her alone, yes. Where’s Mindy?”

Sam explains that Mindy got separated and had to take a different train with Ethan.

Kirby quirks an eyebrow, “Okay, well it’s better if we wait inside.”

The others go their separate ways, leaving you and Kirby to stand by the door. She double checks the ammunition in her gun, and makes sure her bulletproof vest is intact. 

A few minutes pass where you’re left to sit and wait. With Kirby distracted with her gun and you distracted with your thoughts, neither of you notice the figure creeping up behind her.

Kirby falls to the ground, groaning before she falls unconscious. Before you can think of screaming, you’re hit hard in the back of the head.

You land next to Kirby on the ground, head spinning as your world fades to black.

You’re groggy as you wake, but you quickly notice that Kirby is nowhere to be found. You stand and take a minute to regain your bearings.

Once you’ve calmed down, you start to make out the faint sounds of voices in the main room. You slowly approach, stopping dead in your tracks once you see what’s going on.

Sam and Tara are clutching bricks, trying to defend themselves from Quinn and Ethan, who are wearing the ghostface robes and taunting the sisters with knives. 

Detective Bailey stands in front of them, waving around a gun as he monologues.

To your dismay, Quinn notices you.

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite accomplice.”

Bailey turns to face you, grinning. 

“Come on over, join us!”

The rest of the group can’t see from where his back is turned, but his gun is aimed at you and his eyes are threatening. You comply, terrified as you inch forward.

When you’re within reach, Bailey reaches out and wraps an arm tightly around your shoulders, the force of his arm nearly knocking the wind out of you.

He turns to taunt the two sisters, “We couldn’t have done it without her. Your little girlfriend was a great help, Tara.”

Sam and Tara look shocked and then betrayal fills their eyes.

You’re confused, caught up in fear and panic.

Sam’s scoffs, “You needed four people just to take me out? That’s pathetic.”

Only now do you realize what’s going on. Bailey’s making it seem like you’ve been helping them all along, still not allowing you to be innocent.

Your eyes are wide and begging for the umpteenth time, “Wait, I didn’t help them!”

Ethan rolls his eyes, a tiny hidden smirk on his face, “Drop the act! This is the fun part Y/N, remember? Like we talked about.”

You try to wiggle out of Bailey’s grip, but he’s unwavering.

Your struggling causes you to meet Tara’s eyes. She looks devastated, like her worst thoughts were coming to life. 

“Let me go! I didn’t help them, Tara please! Please it wasn’t me! They’re lying!”

Your cheeks are wet with your tears. 

Bailey looks between you and Tara for a second before a smirk slowly spreads across his face.

“Well Tara, it looks like it’s up to you.” He tucks his gun into his waistband and pulls out a knife. 

He gestures to you with the knife, “Girlfriend, or killer?”

The knife presses against your abdomen, ready to strike. 

Time pauses for a second, while your eyes are locked on Tara’s. You’re pleading, the most desperate you’ve been up to this point. Your life is quite literally on the line, and if Tara chooses not to trust you, you’re dead. 

Her mouth is agape, opening and closing, as she glances to Sam for help. Sam shakes her head and mouths a trust no one to her sister.

Tara remains conflicted.

Bailey growls, “Girlfriend or killer, Tara. Choose one.”

Tara’s gaze hardens, but you can still see how her eyes are flitting around worriedly. 

She’s biting her lip hard.

You decide to try to sway her one more time, this is the girl you love, who knows how much you love her, though not by your choice. You don’t know if she returns your feelings, but this isn’t the time to be fearful of rejection. At least if she still doesn’t believe your innocence, you’ll die knowing you did everything you could to save yourself.

You don’t sound desperate anymore, just broken. “Tara, I- I love you. And I wouldn’t do this to you, or Sam, or any of our friends. You know me better than anyone else, so you should know I’m telling the truth. I have been all along.”

The room is still and silent. 

Tara looks into your eyes, and whatever it is she sees, it makes her finally open her mouth to respond. She’s looking right at you as she speaks, “I believe you.”

It’s then that the room erupts into chaos.

You’re blinded with pain as Bailey’s knife enters your insides and twists around.

“You got it right Tara, but you’re too late.”

The knife is pulled out and thrusted back in. A trail of blood leaks out of your mouth.

Quinn and Ethan laugh. Tara’s screams ring loudly throughout the shrine, but she is held from running towards you by Sam. 

You’ve lost track of how many times the knife has entered your body. The pain is so intense that you can’t even feel it anymore.

Your vision is spotty, and you slide limply out of Bailey’s grip to crash unceremoniously to the ground.

You’re left to wonder why no one’s ever said how sickening it is to feel your own life draining from your body. Maybe because they didn’t live to retell the pain?

As your eyes drift shut, you think back to the first night you’d met Tara. How you found her to be so alluring, so painstakingly beautiful. You remember the offhand internal comment you made after hours of blushing under her relentless teasing, when you’d said to yourself that this girl would someday be the death of you.

You’d laugh at the irony if you had enough energy to do so.

With the hopes of being reincarnated into a simpler life, you finally stop fighting death’s cold grasp and allow yourself to fade away.

And fade away you do.

Until the paramedics are pumping you full of drugs, their arms flying around you with practiced precision. They’re stitching, and bandaging, and doing everything they can to save your life.

Somehow, someway, they do it. They save you.

A week later, your eyes open for the first time. 

The room is empty, your only company being a vase full of wilted flowers. 

You’re covered by a thin blue blanket from the waist down. You’d reach down and assess the damage, but your arms don’t want to cooperate, still too weak to comply with your brain’s request.

Besides, you’re alive, shouldn’t that be all that matters?

It’s then that you hear two voices out in the hallway, growing louder as they likely approach your room.

The door opens, and you suck in a breath. It’s Sam and Tara, the latter of the two clutching a fresh bouquet of flowers in her uninjured arm.

They haven’t noticed you’re awake yet, still continuing their previous conversation.

“Hi.” You mentally kick yourself for always having the most awkward greetings.

They gasp and turn to face you.

“You’re awake!” Tara flies towards you and carefully embraces you, mindful of your barely healed injuries. You make a small noise in response, though eventually slowly lift your arms to return the hug.

Sam leaves to go inform the nurse of your condition.

The small girl pulls away to set the flowers down, before moving to gingerly sit on the side of the bed.

She lifts a hand to cup your face, silently stroking your cheek with her thumb.

“I owe you a huge apology,” she begins. 

You shake your head, “We have plenty of time to talk about that, let’s just exist for now, yeah?”

She nods, big brown eyes scanning your face nervously. You watch curiously, as she seemingly works up some confidence.

“Is it true, what Mindy said?”

You pale, and meekly nod your head, knowing she’s referring to when Mindy exposed your love for her.

She’s launching herself towards you again, stopping with her lips mere millimeters away from your lips, a silent question of permission lurking in her eyes.

You glance down at her lips, wondering if they’re as soft as they were the first time you’d kissed her.

She takes that as your answer, and closes the gap. You’re drowning again, in everything that is Tara Carpenter, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

There’d be time to talk later, to work through your issues of trust with her and everyone else, but for now? 

You were perfectly content with the blissful feeling of being consumed by Tara, of her expressing everything left unsaid with just her lips.

You’re scarred and hurt, beaten and bruised, but none of it matters.

You’re kissing Tara, and she’s enough. More than that, she’s all you’ll ever need.

Bonus note: Everyone thank @cartierdreamx for the happy ending, as much as I love it, r's death would've really fueled the evil angst rat that lives inside of me. Send me your thoughts, I'm so excited to hear what you all think after reading!

Taglist: @thenextdawn @dreifhraniquo29 @fanboy7794 @thelonewriter247 @simp4natasha @cartierdreamx @btay3115 @friedryes @bananasplits-world @alexkolax @ordelixx @adaydreamaway08 @youralphawolf72

As always, so sorry if I forgot to add anyone to the list that asked to be added! I tried my best to add everyone!! <3

[somewhereincairparavel]

Hazel and Jason's dynamic is SO fucking disappointing now that I'm binge reading the books again. It was so frosty and distant. Jason was literally just mistrusted and "not like what she expected him to be" in 90% of her Hoo POVS it's sad really. I really wish they would bonded properly. So much potential for friendship just down the drain.

Hazel's unwillingness to forgive Jason for suspecting Nico was genuinely pissing me off I'm sorry 😭 like I never thought I'd get mad at Hazel of all people bc she is literally a sweetie, but she's infantilized way too much in the fandom, so her flaws are easily overlooked, but like she literally went all volcano on Jason and held a grudge against him till House of Hades too? Like I get that she worried about her brother and stuff I'd be mad too. But it's the fact that she selectively forgave Leo SO quickly and never even yelled at him (even though he's the one who started the suspicion in the first place even jokingly called nico creepy and stuff behind his back not that I'm trying to fault him or anything I love him)

look I'm not saying it's all Leo's fault or anything, in my opinion, both Jason and Leo were right to suspect nico because of how back and forth nico went from both camps without saying a word and also pretended to not know percy and stuff. So it's realistically shady behaviour from their pov.

But Hazel gets all sweet and soft on Leo because of Sammy and forgives him in a heartbeat, tbh tho she never really directed her anger on Leo in the first place so there was nothing to forgive. But when Jason apologizes, she gets all cold and frosty like accepting his genuine apology is the hardest thing she has ever done?? Like?? Hazelnut I love you and all, but you just accused Jason of unfairly judging nico but you ironically unfairly judged Jason and went all sweetheart on Leo?? Contradiction much?? Either forgive both of them or don't forgive either of them? Why the bias?

Then in HoH she goes on a whole lot of yapping about how she doubts his capabilities as if she didnt just idolize him like 5 minutes ago RIGHT after he encouraged her that she was doing well and included her as a part of the team?? Idk, she was so petty with him and for what?. I just found it unfair that Jason considered hazel a friend but she didn't consider him one and just fully went all judgy mode on him for the rest of the series. she holds on an even bigger grudge than nico lol. she literally did anything but forgive him or give him a chance. so ooc.

Also, In TOA, I found out Hazel told Apollo that she talked to Jason's ghost after he died, to yell at him about how much his sacrifice had hurt Piper :/ like rlly? Out of all the things you could say to a person you idolized who made a lifechanging sacrifice, you guilt trip him for the sacrifice instead of gratitude? Ig she may have been raging out of grief or something but I honestly didn't like the way their dynamic ended. So incomplete. Just another reason of why I found fanon way better.

Hazel coming in terms with the fact that jason is a boy, and not a legend would've been sm better. since the seven basically signifies friendship and comfort. him being a boy with feelings is basically the whole point of his character, but it only gets acknowledged by nico and leo. hazel of all people would've understood jason's internal struggle, she has literally come back from the dead, if anyone knows about struggle, its her.

[violetsiren90]

All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 3: Part 1 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon/f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Word Count: ~6k

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; Talk and depictions of cancer, its treatment, and the symptoms of both; implication of some disregard for personal agency by entertainment industry; character experience and description of disassociation; flashbacks of a distressing situation; soulmate skinship; cursing; conversations surrounding soulmates and sex; character experiences an emotional breakdown; light embarrassment; CONFLICT (you knew it was coming, right?), there is plenty of fluffy stuff too I PROMISE 😂😅

Author's Note: Wow. It's been a minute. If you're still reading this story, thank you for sticking with me, and I apologize for the stretch of time between updates. For the longest time, I just couldn't get this part right...and then it was far too long, so I split it up, and I'm still editing the second, and (potentially) third parts. I got several messages from readers who were worried I might have abandoned this fic, and let me assure you, far from it! I am not a speedy writer, and struggle with doubting if what I'm putting on the page is good enough, so sometimes it takes me a minute to update, but let me assure you, these characters are so special to me and so alive in me, and I ask thank you for your patience as I work to tell their story! Thank you for your lovely words of encouragement and feedback on the story - I appreciate each and every one of them!!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"I needed the light of your energy, I looked around, devouring hope."

~Pablo Neruda

Chapter 3: My Windows Ache

  "FUCKING FINALLY."

    "Hey, Di."

    "How dare you ghost me for the forty-eight most interesting hours of your life?!"

    "Well, I was low-key occupied..."

    "TELL ME EVERYTHING." 

     You sighed, settling down on a shaded bench in the garden grounds of the hospital to which you had escaped for a little privacy and an important phone call or two.

    "Uh oh. That was your 'things are complicated' sigh," Diana prodded.

    Your eyes tracked a swallowtail as it flitted from azalea to azalea.

    "Well, things certainly aren't conventional or straight-forward, that's for sure. But where's the fun in understanding the basic parameters of what you're getting yourself into on a life-altering scale, right?"

    "Ummmm...what does that mean? You met him, right?"

You could barely hear your sister's question over the crinkle of plastic in the background.

    "Yeah, I did. We bonded too."

    "Oh mah gah!!" Diana choked out amidst sounds of crunchy chewing. "So what's he like?"

    You thought for a moment.

    "He's kind and intelligent. Obviously extremely resilient. His presence is impressive, but he has something about him that's very disarming. He's kind of clumsy and at moments almost...shy? Like, I don't know what I expected, but there's this sweetness to him that you wouldn't anticipate from someone in his position."

    "As a cancer patient?"

    "As an idol."

    You sighed again.

    "I don't know...he's..."

    Diana let out a strangled sound and uttered an enthusiastic string of words you couldn't make out.

    "I have no idea what you just said. Could you please decide whether you want to talk to me or consume an entire bag of Doritos?" 

    "Hey, it's dinner time here!" she whined, "And I said," her voice quickly changed to take on a smug sing-song tone, "That last sigh was your smitten-kitten one..."

    "It was not!" you cut her off sharply. "And get every single idea of Namjoon and I as a couple out of that scheming head of yours because he's very much taken. I'm meeting his fiancée for lunch today."

    "What? He's engaged?"

Diana let out an exasperated huff.

"Why didn't they tell you about this right off the bat? You're going to be the soulmate of a married man? What does that even mean? This is bullshit."

    You had a hard time disagreeing with her there. It was, in fact, bullshit that Namjoon's team had kept his relationship status a secret. Would it have changed your decision? Probably not. This had been about saving Namjoon's life, not some bizarre attempt at matchmaking. But having a third person to consider, and so intimately, as part of the equation for the rest of your earthly life felt like something you should have been made more immediately aware of. Navigating your boundaries with your soulmate had already been complex enough without introducing the prospect of being a fixture in his married life. When Namjoon had breached the prospect of meeting her, he had been taken aback at your surprise - he, like you, had assumed that Hybe's representation had disclosed everything of significance.

    "So it's a good thing I came here as a lifeline, not a mail-order bride," you reminded your sister, "And that seems to be working, by the way. His vitals are already stable. They stabilized overnight, in fact. And his white blood cell count was way up this morning, which is good because I guess he was experiencing immunosuppression from the chemo."

    "Oh, nice," Diana murmured.

You had to remind yourself that she was young and excitable, and not to be annoyed at the disappointment that he crept into her tone. However, never one to be down for long, her voice brought its usual bright mischief through the speaker as she posed her following question.

    "By the way...how was bonding?"

    She had said it with an inescapably salacious undertone, which is why, you told yourself, heat had begun to creep up the base of your neck. You stammered, switching the phone from one ear to the other as you bought yourself time to reassemble your decorum. 

    "Ah...I mean...it was...intense?"

    "Ooooohhhh," Diana trilled, only making you more uncomfortable as the heat spread from your neck to your cheeks, "Intense, huh? Like in a good way?"

     You squirmed uncomfortably where you sat, thoughts of Namjoon's pleasure-stricken face and the strength of his hand and how his skin felt against your own hitting your hippocampus like a flash flood.

    "Y/n?"

    "It was fine, okay? And it worked - so that's what's important."

    "....Okaaay..." Diana drawled skeptically.

You scrambled for another talking point.

    "That kid visited. The one who came to the States - Jungkook. And another one of the members too - Jim...Jimin? I'm still trying to get their names straight. Some of them don't go by their actual names on stage - Namjoon is RM...but you knew that. Anyway, I digress. Both the boys were really sweet. Seems like they're all very close. I'm supposed to meet the rest of the members at some point next week at dinner. They wanted to have a sort of 'last supper' for us since we're probably going to start rejecting food soon."

    "That's cool, you get to meet the whole team! Oh my gosh, you're just going to casually have dinner with BTS...this is still so unreal!"

    "Yep," you affirmed, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Namjoon had hit you with a couple of whoppers last night, but this was one you were actually looking forward to. You told Diana all about your first two days in Seoul - about the impressive hospital and its kind staff. About meeting Namjoon, and his condition. About how everything was still so fresh and new. About how so many things were still unsettled, so many questions unanswered.

    "So are you nervous?"

    "About what?"

    "Meeting his girlfriend."

    You had been so wrapped up in filling Diana in on it all that you had actually forgotten about the impending lunch date. As you pulled the phone away from your ear to check the time, your stomach lurched. 

    "Shit, I better get going. It's almost eleven-thirty." You sprang up and started quickly back toward the building.

    "That wasn't an answer," Diana scoffed, "But, hey, sis?"

    "Yeah?" You pressed the "up" button on the elevator.

    "Don't be."

    You smiled.

    "Love you, Di."

    "Love you too. And so does anyone worth a damn."

    After deciding that you smelled like outside, you showered quickly then slipped into caramel-colored corduroys and an off-white tee. You rummaged around the small suitcase Matt had brought from the hotel for you in search of a sweater. After several exasperating minutes of unsuccessful digging, you heaved the bag of laundered clothes that had been returned to you by the hospital staff this morning, having gone through much of the what the Hybe staff had initially pilfered from your luggage in the last two days.

You grumbled in relief as you pulled out your dark green cardigan and slipped it over your shoulders, wondering what the hell the hospital laundry services had done to stretch it out so badly. But, you didn't have time to fuss - so you bunched up the sleeves and headed to the opposite end of the hospital's outdoor grounds where you suspected Namjoon and his guest were already waiting. 

    The hospital grounds were extensive and beautiful, sporting a garden that extended from the western wing, and a lawn punctuated by traditional pavilions to the east. He had pointed out the one he had reserved to you last night - tucked away in the shade of the large gingko trees flanking the little man-made stream that delineated the border of the grounds.

As you made your way toward the shady spot you chided yourself for being so uneasy - everyone surrounding your soulmate had been as lovely and warm and welcoming as he had been, and the woman he loved would likely be no exception. After Namjoon had disclosed that she was a musician like he was, you had done a bit of online recon before going to bed that night.

Her given name was Kim Hyung-seo, but her stage name, by which she was well-known, was Bibi. She was four years Namjoon's junior, but seemed nearly as ambitious. From what you could tell, she seemed to share a similar drive for artistry and honesty in her musical process as her future husband, and though her tendency for loose-canon candidness had landed her in hot water more than once, her earnest sincerity had engendered her to the hearts of her peers and fans alike. In an industry that seemed to often censor and restrict women, Hyung-seo didn't seem to give much credence to the rules. You liked that. You were actually kind of excited to get to know her a bit and ask her about her art - you had always been a woman's woman, and being in the company of strong feminine energy was something you found deeply empowering and grounding. You anticipated that your soulmate's girlfriend was someone you could respect, and you allowed yourself to venture to hope that feeling would be mutual.

    You trotted up the steps of the pavilion and took in its contents. The center had been fitted with a low, round table bearing a colorful and mouthwatering spread of gogi, bibim guksu, gimbap, and banchan. Cushions had been placed on the floor for seating, but none bore the lunch companions you had been anxious not to keep waiting. You were about to take your place at the table when a figure moving near the creek caught your eye.

You moved to the far side of the structure, to see your soulmate deeply engaged in conversation...with a duck.

He was standing near the edge of the water, his tall figure clad in silky modern navy blue hanbok. The top was untied and hung loosely over a white tee - the only contrast to the deep muted tone apart from his cognac loafers. He wore a dark beanie pulled low on his head, which was bowed in affectionate greeting to a juvenile Gadwall who had paddled away from his family to sample the little bits of starchy fluff that the stranger had sprinkled onto the water.

You pressed your palms against the painted wood, taking him in with a smile as he crouched down, extending a bit of bread between his fingers slowly toward the curious little water foul.

This man, you were learning - this erstwhile underground rapper, this leader of men, this brilliant intellectual and genius artist - this great, powerful, impressive man could be called out of his poise in an instant by the sweet and tiny things of the world.

You watched as he waited patiently, the little duck swimming in to-and-fro circuits and drawing closer and closer to Namjoon with each pass, until finally it was close enough to snatch its prize from him and scuttle off quickly to rejoin its mother and siblings. Namjoon chuckled, smiling fondly as he watched the duck make his way back down the creek.

This man, you thought to yourself, could not possibly be real.

    "So you're a Kpop idol and a Disney princess, huh?" you called, causing Namjoon to startle and rock back on his heels, landing on his posterior in the damp grass.

    You slapped a hand over your mouth to repress the laughter that threatened to bubble up at the site of his large well-dressed figure tipped back haphazardly on the creekside. He huffed a sheepish laugh as he stood, swiping at the back of his pants.

    "Give a person a little warning?" he chided lightly, approaching you where you leaned on the railing.

    "Sorry," you chuckled, "I didn't want to scare your little friend."

    "So you settled for scaring your soulmate? I see how it is." 

    You smiled and ducked your head.

    "Sorry," you murmured, flicking your gaze back to his.

He looked up at you, fixing you with his warm brown eyes and bringing his hands to grip the railing on either side of yours. Suddenly, you felt shy. You shook yourself.

    "Hey, hang out with the ducks and you'll end up with a wet tail," you teased.

Namjoon's eyebrows drew together in mock disgust.

    "Yikes, you're almost as bad as Seokjin hyung," he remarked disparagingly.

    You shrugged, smirking.

    "I have no idea what that means, but whoever Seokjin is, he must have a superior sense of humor."

Namjoon was opening his mouth to respond, but was cut short, as the tiny motion of your shoulders had slid one of your hands just a centimeter down the railing and barely flush with his own. The slight contact was enough to send sudden little tingles of comfort shooting up your arm and across your chest. In a millisecond you felt yourself relax where you hadn't realized you were tense. You could have imagined it, but you thought you felt Namjoon press his hand just a fraction more into yours as he swallowed and heaved a deep sigh.

You reminded yourself for the hundredth time since you arrived that this was biological. Clinical. The means to an end. Damn, he felt good though.

You found yourself snatching your hands away to push up your cardigan sleeves and then stuff them into your pants pockets where they would stop confusing you. You distracted yourself from Namjoon's subtle look of disappointment with an apology.

    "Sorry about your pants," you rocked back on your heels as you looked out over the little ribbon of water rippling over its stony bed behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder and brushed himself off again before waving a hand in dismissal. Your eyes focused back on the blue silk.

"I didn't realize this was a fancy lunch. I feel under-dressed."

    "You look nice," Namjoon rebutted, as he glanced over your attire. Then his brow pinched as his eyes halted on your torso, flitting over your arms and shoulders. "But isn't that -"

    "Joon?"

A voice behind you caused you to turn.

Standing at the top of the steps was the woman it belonged to. She was tall and beautifully slender - her svelte figure draped in a slinky chrome dress with a triangular cutout that displayed the smooth skin of her upper abdomen. Her glossy raven tresses were styled away from her face in a high ponytail, drawing sharp attention to her sultry features. Her smoky eyes glanced over your form with a lazy intensity, lids half-raised over dark irises, and her pouted lips pursed in appraisal. You wondered just exactly how many ridiculously beautiful people traveled in Namjoon's circle.

She stepped toward you, her chunky pink heels marking her confident strides on the floorboards, before bowing and extending a small hand with sharp white acrylics and icy sliver rings.

    "I'm the girlfriend!" she hummed, her deep, velvety voice matching her features.

    You bowed in return before shaking her hand politely.

    "So nice to meet you," you smiled, "I'm -

    "The soulmate," she cut you off, glancing over your shoulder at Namjoon, who still stood outside the pavilion, "of that weirdo." '

Namjoon circled around to the entrance of the pavilion before joining you with a wry smile. He introduced the two of you formally, before being the first to take a seat at the table. Hyung-seo joined him, shimmying her cushion closer to Namjoon's as she used a pair of chopsticks to load her plate with selections from the spread. 

    "Oh my god, I'm STARVING," she gushed, staring at Namjoon impatiently as he took a bit of kimchi fried rice and a few slices of samgyeobsal.

    "My stomach feels like it could take some real food for the first time in a while," he said with eager enthusiasm, glancing up at you with a smile of gratitude. 

    Hyung-seo tapped her chopsticks against her plate as she watched you survey the dishes before you. You took some kimchi fried rice and carefully ladled out a small bowl of doenjang-jjigae. You pulled your hands into your lap and watched the steam rise from the fragrant broth.

    "Ah, unnie..." Hyung-seo began before Namjoon shushed her and lightly tapped her knee.

You glanced between them in confusion. Namjoon merely smiled at you, and you smiled back, glancing down from his warm gaze to your plate.

    "Oh for the love of god, would you take a bite?"

    You looked up rather startled at Hyung-seo, who was leaned forward, her desperate eyes tracking your movements, and the chopsticks clutched in her right hand hovering over a plump, sweating mandu.

You blinked, fumbling for your chopsticks as your soulmate admonished the woman next to him. You took a heap of fried rice onto your chopsticks and brought it to your lips, looking questioningly between the two across from you. Hyung-seo groaned in impatience, her head lolling back.   

    "In Korea, the eldest eats first," Namjoon offered in soft explanation, his features trained in apology.

    As realization washed over you, you all but shoved the rice into your mouth, hoping to swallow your embarrassment with it, followed quickly by Hyung-seo, who popped two mandu into her mouth consecutively. Her eyes rolled back as she let out a groan of appreciation. You watched Namjoon carefully savor a piece of samgyeobsal. He smiled a dimpled smile. You smiled to yourself as you tucked into your fried rice. Namjoon's fiancée watched you both. Her cheeks were full, but she wasn't smiling.

Your little trio ate in contented silence until your visitor, having satisfied her belly, fixed her eyes on you with a different sort of eagerness. The time for questions had come, you realized. You set down your chopsticks, taking a drink of water.

    "I'm sure there is so much we'd like to know about each other," you offered with a smile.

    She pulled her lips into a brief grin, sipping from her own glass as her eyes trailed over you. You cleared your throat.

    "So, I read that y-"

    "How does it feel?" she interrupted, starring at you raptly. You blinked.

    "I'm sorry?"

    "When he touches you." She licked her lips. "I heard it's like cumming. I heard it's better."

Namjoon slid a large hand over her thigh. You saw it squeeze.

    "Jagiya..." he murmured.

    You glanced at him and gave him a reassuring grin which he returned, though not as readily as before. Not the start to the conversation you had hoped for, but she was living up to her brusque reputation. You let yourself laugh a little at the question, and saw Hyung-seo's mouth curl up a bit at the corners, though it didn't reach her eyes.

    "It's nothing like sex, actually," you mused, trying to be as forthcoming as possible without abandoning politeness. "Strange, I guess, because it is all about physical exchange and contact. But...it's more like...nourishment? I don't know...I haven't had long enough to think about it."

You had had quite long enough to know that it was ineffable, but in the most intoxicating, magnificent way - and a hell of a lot better than most of the sex you'd had. This, however, wasn't the time and place for descriptions of the bond that could be ripped from the pages of drugstore romance novels.

    You found yourself turning to Namjoon with a questioning gaze, as if to ask if he had anything to add. He nodded in response, not meeting your eyes.

    "Yeah, it's different," he murmured succinctly.  

    Hyung-seo hummed in assent, chewing on her lip, her gaze still roving over you. You decided to try again.

    "So how did you m-"

    "How do you do it?"

    You stifled a small sigh that threatened to escape your lips.

    "Do what?"

    "Use the bond. Like, do you hold hands, or...or what?"

    You looked to Namjoon who murmured something in Korean that sounded like a warning. This wasn't going as you'd hoped. Her questions were natural ones, but not the first you thought you'd be asked, and not so pointedly. In fact, they were ones she should probably have put to her partner. Had they not spoken since you arrived?

    "The bond works with any physical contact. When I first got here, I had so many questions myself. The hospital personnel were very informative while helping us navigate our questions. I still know very little, but as someone whose partner is bonded, I'm sure they would have someone who could better answer these types of questions than I can," you offered.

It was the opposite of forthcoming, but you were absolutely not prepared to launch into a conversation about you and her fiancé spooning in your undergarments. The trajectory of the exchange had to go elsewhere, so you resolved to take the wheel.

    "Is there anything you'd like to know about me? Maybe I could tell you a little about myself. My job in the states wasn't glamorous, but I loved it. I was -"

    "A social worker, I know," she murmured with a sigh, and Namjoon's head snapped toward her.     

You could feel your confusion pulling into a frown. In your beat of silence, the woman in front of you gave into another impulse as she placidly launched into an answer of your unasked question.

    "You're a social worker from the West coast, oldest of three kids. Your father died when you were ten. You graduated summa cum laude, and chose a career in women's services. You support your mother's living - you have been, long-term. Your brother is an engineer and your sister is in nursing school. You've never committed any crimes, but you were arrested once in college at some political protest about immigrant rights. Your blood type is O positive. You don't seem very good with your money, but you've never asked for financial assistance. You've never been married." 

    Silence.

    Your ears were ringing.

    You blinked as you tried to focus, grappling for something on which to stabilize your composure. This isn't how this was supposed to go. You felt your control slipping as the words pierced you in echoes that knocked you back down each time you reached out to steady your mind. 

    "Your father died when you were young..."

    "...You support your mother's living..."

    "...You don't seem very good with your money"

    Your mind whirred as the silence closed in, and for a moment you were suspended.

        Diana and Henry weren't pillars, you thought - they were tiny little babies as your mother clutched them on either side of her prone, shaking form as shovels of dirt were shifted back into the gaping hole that held a pine box covered in flowers. You looked down at the flag in your hands, and then up at the white flowers, still fresh and blooming, being caked and sodden with damp soil. You felt something rising up in your chest - something that never reached the surface. You turned from the wound in the earth as Dianna reached out and tugged at your arm. The babies looked afraid. You couldn't see your mother's face from where it was buried in her skirts. You tucked the flag reverently under your arm and took the little hands.

    Somewhere outside the amniotic sack of your mind, you saw Namjoon's figure stand. You heard his garbled voice speak to the woman beside him. He was angry, his voice pitched low. Hers in response was sharp and high.

    You took a deep breath and exhaled. Your chest was beginning to labor and your inhaler was on the fifth floor of a building on the other side of the property.

You willed yourself back into this world you had chosen. This place which, like the others you had inhabited, would discover its new tenant didn't take long to adapt. She was built to withstand.

    "Namjoon," you called softly, as you looked up at your soulmate. His eyes snapped to yours, his face showing subtle but unmistakable signs of distress - eyes reflecting remorsefully and jaw flexing.

You smiled at him gently, reassuringly.

    "It's alright," you insisted, your eyes not leaving his.

You saw his shoulders sag, and his head bow. His hand came up to scrub over his face. You realized then that she was looking at you. Hyung-seo's expression was apprehensive, her eyes scouring your face.

    "This must be an extremely difficult thing for you, whatever the reason," you offered earnestly.

    She regarded you in silence, her eyes flickering like the flame of a candle.

    "I would say, 'I understand', but I don't. I have no idea how hard it must be to fall in love with someone only to watch them suffer at the hands of disease, and to suffer so greatly and to come so close to losing them that you turn to finding a person who can save them, and who - if they are saved by - they will need and desire for the rest of their natural life. A person who isn't you." 

    Her eyes quivered as they held you in their gaze.

    "I know I'm supposed to be a saving grace," you continued, having gained your ground, "But I know I could also look a lot like a threat. Trust me when I say that you can be open and honest with me about how you feel. This is a difficult situation where we're going to feel burdened by things we shouldn't. Namjoon and I discussed this."

    You smiled again at your soulmate, who was watching you with relief and something else in his features. You wanted to call it admiration, but you had only known him for two whole days.

    "Whatever fears you're carrying that make you feel like a burden in this moment, could I ask you to set them aside? For a chance to get to know me in the real way that you deserve? This isn't a trap. Or a cage. We've all chosen to be here."

    You regarded Hyung-seo in the silence that followed. Her eyes had fallen from your face - they glanced over toward where Namjoon stood, barely raising toward his figure, when she suddenly dropped her face into her hands and began shaking with sobs.

    You let out a sigh of relief too soft to be heard by the others.

    "Fuck...." Hyung-seo choked out against her palms, "I'm such a piece of shit..."

    Namjoon moved to place a hand over her back and assure her she wasn't. You wondered what she felt when he touched her. Your heart ached with pity for her. Namjoon drew her into his chest and held her as she cried her makeup off. He stroked her hair as her regarded her with weary, worried eyes. You couldn't help but feel that you were encroaching on a private moment...expect that you were a part of this as much as they were. Was there a lifetime of this feeling to be endured? You sighed again.

    "I'm gonna give you guys a minute," you whispered as you clambered to your feet.

    Namjoon nodded silently over the woman in his arms. 

    You watched scattered leaves from the boughs overhanging the far side of the stream spin as the were swept away. Your eyes tracked one in particular, twirling as it sailed around a protruding rock and under an arching root, only to be stopped as it was doubled at the middle by a thin, swaying reed. You found your feet moving to where the water rushed around it as it billowed helplessly on both sides of its obstruction like a flag of surrender. You slipped off your shoes and rolled up your pants. You waded into the cool, clear water and, reaching out, tugged the little leaf free. You watched as it sailed on, disappearing around a bend in the waterway. You glanced back up at the pavilion. If you could have been sure it was the right move, you would have left altogether, but you wouldn't want your sudden departure to be taken the wrong way.

    You sighed. You pulled your phone out of your back pocket as you waded back out of the stream. Dead. You were bad about keeping it charged, and your conversation with Diana had drained its aged battery. You wished you had a book. Glancing about, your eyes caught a fairly large patch of clover flowers a few yards down the bank, and crossing the soft grass, you sank down in its center.

You smiled weakly to yourself as you plucked one of the little white buds near the base of its stem. You and your siblings would spend hours at the park under the shade turning sprawling patches of the puffy blooms into garlands, crowns, bracelets, and rings. You picked another flower and tied its supple stem into a knot just under the other flower's head. 

    By the time Namjoon came to join you, sinking down across from you in little clover patch you had fashioned yourself a crown and a necklace, and were working on a garland to send to Diana. You set down your handiwork to look up at him. He was regarding you with soft, somber eyes and a little smile that looked like one he didn't have the energy for but couldn't help besides. He picked a flower and twirled it between his fingers.

    "I'm so sorry," he murmured, "If I would have thought that things would go that way, I wouldn't have insisted on her meeting you before she left. She's going on tour and I thought...well, I thought if she just met you her anxieties would be eased."

    You nodded thoughtfully.

    "Thank you for your patience and kindness. She was out of line saying those things to you like that...you were...that was everything she needed to hear, I think."

    You cast your eyes down as you tied off another knot in the garland.

    "Is she okay?" you asked quietly.

    Namjoon sighed.

    "She's...embarrassed. Ashamed of herself. She wasn't in any condition to finish that conversation, so I suggested she go home."

    "Understandable," you assented, nodding again.

    Silence hung between you for a moment before you raised your eyes to his again.

    "Namjoon...there are some things I think we should discuss."

    He nodded earnestly, his eyes falling, brow creasing and tongue pressing into his cheek.

    "I know we haven't had much time," you continued, "And we have literally the rest of our lives...but, I think we should be on the same page about what we've been told about each other. I think it will make this whole process easier? I don't know. There are some things you assume you'll have to tell someone at a certain point in knowing them - some things that are...deeply personal..."

    "Aren't things between us already that way? Deeply personal?"

    You looked up and those half-lidded brown eyes were looking right at you in a way you weren't prepared for, in a way that flooded your veins. Soulmate. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to feel him and what he brought to you. You wanted him to feel it too. But you didn't know him, and he didn't know you, and he needed healing, which is why you were here. He loved someone who loved him whose lives you were disrupting. This feeling was basal, you knew - came with the territory...but you were going to need some strong boundaries if this was going to function. You were going to need honesty, for a start.

   "They are," you relented slowly, "But I have questions that I need answers to. Your trust in me is clear, and I appreciate that...but...I need time to get my footing here."

    Namjoon nodded in assent.

    "I get that. So, what do you want to know, specifically? I'll answer any question you have."

    You nodded gratefully.

    "Thank you. Do you think I could take a little time to think about what I want to ask? I'm kind of still processing everything that just happened."

    "Of course," he was quick to answer, "Whenever you want to talk, just let me know. Did I say how sorry I am?" he asked smiling weakly as he looked up from where he struggled to knot the stem of one flower around another, suddenly looking down again when its stem snapped between his fingers.

    You huffed out a little laugh.

    "Yes, you did," you did, you answered, offering him a rueful grin.

    He picked another flower only to realize he had cut its stem too short for his purposes. He tossed the little blossoms back into the grass.

    "Can you make me one?" he asked pathetically, pouting at the garland in your hands.

    You chuckled as you tied off the one in your lap and leaned forward to slip it over his head. He adjusted it around his neck, looking down at it with a pleased expression.

    "You know...if you can believe it, we actually got lucky in there," he smirked, his forehead creasing as he raised his brow.

    You gave him a look of confusion. His eyes trailed over your torso again before flitting back up to yours.

    "She didn't notice that you're wearing my sweater."

    You froze. Then you blinked down at the giant green cardigan that had, in fact, slipped down off of one shoulder. Then you gaped at him.

  �� He snickered.

    You scrambled to yank the sweater over your head, even as he laughed and protested, you blustered apology after expletive after apology.

    "Shit, it was in my laundry bag!" You whined in explanation as you shook it out and began to fold it in your lap.

    "Stop, just keep it on," Namjoon insisted, still clearly amused at your state of panic.

    "I have one just like this. Like, identical but obviously smaller. I just assumed it had stretched out in the wash..." You extended the sweater toward him.

    He shook his head.

    "Just give it back later, you'll be cold." He looked up at your exasperated expression and started laughing again.

    "Stooop..." you whined in embarrassment, and when he only laughed harder, you tossed the sweater in his face. As he balled it up with a smile where it fell down into his lap, his smart watch trilled. He glanced down at it.

    "I've got labs scheduled now," he sighed.

    "Hopefully they'll bring more good news," you offered, at which he nodded. "I seem to be getting the job done, if I do say so myself," you teased, leaning back on your hands and offering him a smug look.

He nodded, tongue in his cheek, then pushed to stand - with effort, you noticed - and extended a hand down to you. You didn't realize what the little smile on his mouth was for until you accepted his hand with your own, by habit, and were nearly knocked back off your feet as the bond surged through you like a wave of mind-numbing euphoria that left you unable to process information outside of what was sent coursing through your every cell from where he touched you.

    You blinked up at him as you got your wits about you, and he was looking down at you through little slits in his barely-open eyes, head tilted back and mouth hanging open - little smirk still tugging at its corner. You pursed your lips, trying not to grin back.

    "You did that on purpose," you chided, trying and failing to train your features in a scowl.

    His smirk deepened.

    "What? I was just being courteous..."

    You rolled your eyes.

    "I'm feeling a little weak, I think it would be best if you helped me back to the room," he muttered slyly, turning to head back toward the building.

The smile that was dimpling his cheek and creasing the corners of his eyes did something to your stomach that had you yanking your hand out of his grasp.

    "Yeah, right," you huffed, forging a few steps ahead of him, "You're putting a lot by your poorly reputed coordination to think you could walk while I was touching you." 

    He let out a laugh behind you. It was loud and bright and had you biting back a smile to match it.

    "What happened to getting the job done, sweater thief?" he called after you teasingly.

    Shit. Yeah. Boundaries. You were going to need them.

_________________________________________________

Well, they met! Next part to follow soon.

Thank you for sticking with me here!

Tag list: @butterymin @little-dark-empress @aretha170 @kamilamb @jlee97 @thephotoend @callmenoona25 @felicityroth @softforyoongles @berlianv @honneypies @deadrose287 @n0pesir

[macravishedbymactavish]

Social Butterfly | Antisocial Moth (Keegan Russ x GN! Reader)

TW: A little bit of swearing? Total imposter syndrome for the social butterfly bits as the authors personality aligns closer to Keegan's. Creative liberties taken in backstories as there's next to nothing from the games.

Blog HQ

What do laws of physics and horoscopes have in common? Both say opposites attract.

Which may be the reason why you're sitting at lunch in the mess hall, chatting with the 3rd person that approached your table while your boyfriend sat silently beside you. In the span of 30 minutes.

"No way, of course did." You smiled, laughing at Harper's story about her middle child -- Noah who has been desperately trying to keep up with a girl he likes during gym class. Because if we run together af the same speed, then I get to talk to her more.

"He's gotten better, told me he shaved 5 seconds off his total time last week" the two of you chuckled. Your food barely touched, despite your boyfriend being almost done his. "Oh anyway, I should get going and let you eat. See you, bye Keegan!" He gave a short nod and awkward smile, as you bid your colleague goodbye.

"Oh my gosh, I love her. Her kids are so cute" you smiled over to the quiet man beside you. Like with your past 2 interactions at this lunch alone, Keegan was provided with context and background on all of them. Such as:

Parker - who recently got a new dog named Ranger. 6 month old Husky who argues with him on the daily. The dog is so cute babe, can we get one? Our dog and his dog could be best friends! Then Logan can bring Riley over for a playdate and all the dogs would be so happy. Please!

Then Finn - his girlfriend, Raven (your favourite mechanic on base who he will HAVE to meet) just got home from visiting her friends from back home. He really wants to propose but isn't quite sure if this is a good time for them. I think he should do it because they are literally soulmates.

Did he really care about any of this information? Not overly. Keegan was your opposite. Preferring a smaller, tighter knit social circle than knowing everyone on base. Even if that meant you teasing him about his social circle consisting of his team, even then he didn't know a whole lot of details about them.

"I know plenty about them" He argued one night while getting ready for bed.

"Yeah? Like what?" You challenged, leaning back on the bed, watching your boyfriend roll his eyes. He was the antisocial moth to your social butterfly.

"Uh Merrick started in the seals before he was a Ghost. Knew me since I was 18, so he's pretty much my family. Loves cats, camping and his kids" You raised an eyebrow, internally adding that his wife was the best baker you've met, and that his son played hockey for many years while his daughter played soccer.

"Ajax is the most stubborn, kindest asshole I've had the pleasure of working with. Extremely smart, one of the best mentors and friends I've had" His in-laws also own the local bar downtown and donate meals to the local homeless shelters every week. His partner plans on taking over the buisness one day to continue the good deeds.

"Uh Elias knows his stuff. I couldn't ask for a better commander. Been through hell and back but continues putting the team first, he's also the one who recruited me onto the team". He also lost his wife 8 years after his youngest was born and has been balancing his life between raising 2 sons and commanding a team. He feels bad every so often feeling like he didn't give them a proper childhood, or forcing David to grow up a little too fast to take care of his brother. Even though he loves the bond the two have formed. He is the dad friend of every social circle.

"Logan is good, young and full of potential. Doesn't say much, but knows what he wants out of life and is working his ass off toward getting it. Picks up on things extremely quick, has your back at all times, loves Riley and any other animal he comes across. A bit on the quiet side but that's not a bad thing" You laughed softly, realizing every single description Keegan has given you so far is 95% work related; so continuing in the current format. You bit your lip, in an attempt not to add that Logan was a very sweet kid, of minimal words as your boyfriend pointed out, sure. But he told you once that he hoped to make his family proud with what he was doing. Then got extremely red the day you and his brother told him just how proud everyone is of him.

"What's so funny over there, chuckles?" Keegan smiled at you, walking over to join you in the bed. Opting to lay between your thighs with his head on your stomach. Fingers automatically going to his hair, you felt him relax into your touch.

"I think it's funny that everything was work related. They do lead lives off base, like you and me" you felt him shrug silently. "You forgot about Hesh and Kick". Not bothering to move, he continued.

"Everyone in California knows Hesh's life story, and Kick is just a smartass". He had you there. "And not everyone is as open and talkative as you hun."

--

"Hey, it's been so long I've seen you. How have you been?" Another competitor entered the ring that was your shared table.

"It's been tiring, honestly. Coming back to work from extended leave has killed our motivation" hand finding Keegan's under the table, you were immediately engulfed in conversation with another face he didn't recognize. Lunch forgotten as your interest in the subject grew.

It was when Hesh Walker (the only person on base who held a candle to your social attitude) joined that Keegan decided he was done with lunch. Squeezing your hand 3 times under the table (a silent "I love you") he got up.

"See you guys" he responded to the 3 voices bidding him goodbye, as he went to drop his tray off before leaving.

"Tell me, how is it that the quietest soldier ended up dating the one of the loudest ones?" He heard Kick ask from behind him, walking alongside Elias and Merrick. "Your person could talk to a brick wall and become best friends with it in under 5 minutes". Keegan shrugged, falling in step with the group.

"They bring out the best side of our dear old Keegan though" Merrick clapped him on the shoulder with a mischievous grin. He found it rather comical watching you and Keegan out in a social atmosphere.

You working the room, chatting with anyone and everyone. Remembering random details about most people you've talked to. Him quietly watching you from across the room, or by your side nodding along to conversation. Things none of the senior team would've expected from their sniper 3 years ago, before he met you.

"Yeah. They're pretty great" Keegan smiled, allowing himself to fade into the background and listen to the conversation in front of him turn to whatever sports game the guys watched last night.

Your personalities may be day and night from one another, but he wouldn't give it up for th-

"Keeg! We aren't done talking about the dog we're going to adopt" he heard you yell from somewhere behind him. Causing him to freeze in place as the men in front of him began laughing. Feeling his face burn, knowing all passing eyes were now on either him or his ball of energy jogging up behind him.

But what can he say, opposites clearly attract.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @ai-luni

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for ghosting my bandmate?

I (27F) swear I didn't mean to make her (24F) worry!

Aight, so between two and three years ago I thought we had reached the peak of our careers. We'd stopped handling the local sports news broadcast after hosting a very influential festival and upgraded to the world stage—and we made it big all around the world! But I felt like we'd stopped progressing at that point, y'know? My bandmate was just happy to keep performing and preferred to play it safe with our usual style, but we HAD finally agreed to pursue new genres and never conform as a band at that last festival I mentioned. So where's the change, yo?! So yeah, that resulted in a musical clash—and I just left. Straight up no more drama, I just headed out.

I didn't just give up on the band, by the way! Shell no—I would never abandon my bandmate like that! I just needed time to come up with something fresh. We usually did electronic pop with some hip-hop, but I've always wanted to try out rock again—so I started watching tons of videos and stuff, yeah? And eventually, I found some young guys with tons of potential—and I knew I had it! I told my bandmate I had found some sick dudes and that we could be the next big hit, LOL. And guess what—I was right on the money! We've been all good since then. We switched and spiced things up and we were doing a world tour doing vocals for this aspiring rock band about about a year ago. It was exactly what I felt we needed!

But here's the thing, though—I didn't tell her I was leaving or talk to her until I found those guys. At the time, my mind was completely focused on the grind, I guess, only rock on my mind and all—but I'm realizing it might have been a bit of a jerk move? Maybe it looked like I didn't care about her feelings, huh? She was probably worried about me and hurt that I'd left like that.

So AITA here? I swear I had no ill will, I was just reckless! Should I just move on from that since all's chill now? Come to think of it though, something's clearly been bugging her since our world tour. She has been getting a bit more… philosophical. Maybe it's just the pressure? I dunno.

[lord-of-geeks-and-subs]

Sir? I... I'm looking for guidance? If you can? I have someone who's trying to be my dominant... but he doesn't care... about me? Like when I was sick not long ago (nothing too serious, just a lot of coughing and not feeling well), he didn't check in on me. Just said he 'needed me.' Even after I put into place that I required a platonic relationship of some sort for a dynamic, he has kept pushing for a sexual only one. When I reiterate, he responds with, "I told you I'm a dominant." I'm not... I promised I won't ghost but... I... don't feel safe (emotionally). He constantly feels like a battle. Including deciding that he could push my boundaries without any sort of communication (breath play is super... iffy for me) "I thought I could just ease you into it." No apologies or anything of the sort

I know you tend to lean towards harder kinks, and I enjoy some of those quite a bit and this is much softer stuff than what you post a fair amount but I feel unseen where I'm at mentally and emotionally

Okay, let’s start with the beginning. 😇 This is a big message with a lot of concerning things to unpack. So sit down please. And listen. I’m going to try to be as clear as possible. But this is going to be a lot.

Let me get straight to the point instead of building up to it.

This guy you are talking to is not a Dominant. He is a walking red flag.

A Dominant is always putting his partners wellbeing first. Regardless if you are a sadist, a rigger, into soft kinks or hard kinks or even a more strict Master type of Dominant. You always care about your submissive. Always. You always respect her boundaries and limits. You always show care when something is up. You don’t need to love your partner. You don’t even need to be friends with them, if that’s what you both discussed and agreed on. But if he’s trying to be your Dominant, then that means he has to take responsibilities for you as his sub as well. Meaning they need to take care of you, help you with guidance, put your wellbeing first and also just care about your mental and physical wellbeing. Men that say they are “dominants”, but only for the nudes, sex and nothing else are really not Dominants. They are just guys that… honestly… don’t know much about real kink. They are posers… just dudes that..Don’t get much female attention or attraction, thus online use the kink titles of “daddy”, “master” and “dominant” to trick inexperienced submissives into doing whatever they demand. Even if the things they demand have nothing to do with actual dynamics or kink. They are nothing more than fakers that ruin the name of actual Dominants and who selfishly ruin potential submissives interested in kink. They are disgusting individuals.

Now back to your post. If he doesn’t show care towards you then he’s not the right person to be your Dominant. Or not suited to be a Dominant at all. A Dom cares about their submissive. Just to give some examples from my own experiences. I’ve been in a handful of D/s dynamics. And also had a bunch of flings and casual situations with submissive people. I’ve always shown care. Obviously I invested more energy in the people I was in an actual dynamic with. But even with the casual flings or kink friends I would check in on their wellbeing, be considerate towards their mental health and make them feel seen and understood. Because that’s the bare-fucking-minimum. As for when I was somebodies Dominant. The moment you become somebodies Dominant things become real. It’s not about just a hook-up and thats it. You are now guiding this person. Responsible for them. Sexually and non-sexually. I’ve traveled 2+ hours to wait another 2 hours in the rain to make sure a previous sub/partner was okay, after she went through some distressing personal events and communicated with me that she was struggling. I’ve done regular calls with previous partners and even helped them sleep by staying in a call with them as they tried sleeping while listening to my voice, because they were struggling with sleeping and depression. And my voice is calming. I take my partners wellbeing serious, respect their boundaries, try to help them through life, create a safe space for them to vent, cry and be vulnerable. Support their mental health struggles. And make sure they feel seen, cared for and supported. Both in their kink journey as in their general mental health/wellbeing. Because again, that’s literally the bare-minimum. And something a Dominant partner always should do.

If you communicated that you need some form of platonic relationship, and he wants to be your Dominant but only on a sexual level. And you both have different needs in this. Then you are also just not a match needs wise. Move on.

Again. The guy is not only not a dominant. He’s also fucking clueless. Dominance and being a Dominant isn’t about just sex…you also guide your partner in their day-to-day life. And often to have a layer of control, guidance and such in their “normal non sexual” life. Not for the Dominants sake, but to support the submissive. Obviously how much a Dominant gets involved in these things depends on their submissive’s needs and comfort as well. Some D/s dynamics are mostly within the bedroom and that’s okay. But to say “I’m a dominant” as a reason to why he wants to keep it only sexual is fucking stupid and shows his ignorance. To use myself as an example again. I’ve had submissives who struggled with anxiety and choice making, so during those moments I would for example help them pick foods or groceries. I’ve also guided submissive in creating healthy life habits (with things they struggled with, wanted to prove on and gave me consent for!) like having a better sleeping schedule, spending more time on relaxation and self-care or working more regularly on school-work. That is the role of a Dominant as well. To create healthy habits, routines and establish protocols outside of the bedroom. You need that (platonic or romantic) relationship for that.

One thing that is crucial with every D/s dynamic. Is feeling safe emotionally and physical with your Dominant. They should literally be the embodiment of a safe-space for you. You should be able to trust them completely. Feel safe with them emotionally. Be able to feel vulnerable with them. Obviously this is easier for some than others. Trauma makes stuff difficult for some. But this is something that over time can grow and flourish. But if it starts with feeling (emotionally) unsafe… then wtf are you doing? Run? Leave?! How can you be feeling emotionally unsafe with somebody, but still wanting to put your body and wellbeing in their hands. Even if you only do “light” kinks. Kink on its own can be extremely intense. (AND DANGEROUS.) Imagine having sub-drops and this guy not caring about you?? You’ll literally be putting yourself in emotional and physical danger. You mention breath-play. Do you even know if he knows the dangers of breath-play. How to minimize the risk of brain-damage? So many people participate in breath-play and choking. But do you know how many subs become paralyzed or die because they trusted the wrong guy/person?? A lot more than you thought before. Him putting even the slightest pressure on your throat and doing it incorrectly could have already damaged you, and most probably already has.

Breath play is literally one of the riskiest kinks out there. I partake in it too. But you have to be extremely careful and conscious of the risk. And just “to do it” without communication. Without your consent. While this was your limit??? Is a HUGE red flag. If things would have gone wrong you could be paralyzed or worse right now. And do you think he would care or take responsibility?

Making mistakes is one thing. I’ve made those as well. Even recently. Sometimes there are misunderstandings, miscommunications or general slip ups during scenes. But as a Dominant you never want to put your submissive in any sort of danger. And if you realize you did something that she was not ready for or if something didn’t go well. You apologize. You take responsibility. Say sorry. Ask questions so you understand what went wrong, what her needs are and how to avoid it happening again. And you give her the proper after-care she might need.

Regardless of the kinks and how intense they are there are always a few basic things that should ALWAYS be in place. If you as a submissive miss a few of these. Or don’t see them in how you get treated by your (potential) partner? RUN. I’m not joking. Run. You are putting yourself in danger. Because:

A Dom should always show care towards their submissive. Not only when it comes to the sexual aspect, but also towards your general wellbeing, mental/physical health etc.

A Dominant should always respect your boundaries and limits and never ignore, neglect or push them.

Making sure you are and feel safe and feel understood/ seen is a Dominants priority.

A healthy dynamic always consist of mutual communication, care and consent. These are the three c’s that matter.

A Dom should never put you in physical danger without your full consent and the knowledge of the risks.

A Dominant always checks-in on their submissive.

These are some of the basic-bare-minimum things. There’s more. I might make some posts about D/s dynamics, safety and expectation soon. Because I feel like a lot of you inexperienced subs are putting yourself in extreme danger by getting yourself involved with these sort of people. Regardless sweet anon. You did nothing wrong. You deserve to be seen and understood. You deserve to be supported and guided in a safe way. You deserve to be cared for. By a proper Dominant who wants to help you grow and flourish. Not used by a dickhead guy that is faking it.

Stay safe. Choose for yourself. Protect yourself and your own boundaries!

[halinlangan]

A birthday letter

dont know how to write a perfect introduction to a long ass birthday post so let me throw in a not-so-fun fan theory, did you know that 27 of Fall Out Boy is a reference to the 27 Club (artists who died at age 27)? I jokingly claimed 27 as my song last year not knowing that my whole 27th year existence will make me consider suicide more often than I can ever imagine. If I am able to post this, (I really hope that it is the case), please be continue reading because you might be able to pick up something that will help you save a life. Hehe, The Fray.

My 27th started with a heartbreak and it was so cliche in movies that I failed to process what I really felt. I've cried a lifetime's worth of tears from everything that has happened after that day and I am still crying as I write this, whatever this is. I'm depressed and bipolar (diagnosed) and I am not sharing that because I want you to pity me or take my side, it is just what I am... or atleast what I am now.

So, how did a depressed, heartbroken woman spent her 27th year? Struggling. While most of the people in my age group write success stories, wedding vows, and wins, I am stuck begging for something good to happen, something to look forward just to extend my life. I spent most of my time looking and learning (stalking) potential triggers, trying to assure myself that every horrible feeling that I've felt was not horrible enough to throw in the towel, seeking validation from people, and making myself smaller and smaller so people won't leave me because I'm so small now that crumbs of love, respect, and basic human decency feels like a gift.

I will not tell you how sad it is to live a life where you feel like you're replaceable and worthless, instead I will tell you how I tried to cope up with it. I became a people pleaser, and yes, I know that word even before taylor's song haha. Money, time, energy, everything that I can give I let go as if I don't need it, even though most of the time it leaves me empty. When it is not enough, I gaslight myself that I am okay with whatever. "I'm not a ghost, people are just busy. I'm not ugly, it is just easier to compliment other people. It is not because they don't care when you sad post or hint about committing suicide, they probably think that it was just your type of humor. It is just microcheating. It is just cheating, atleast he is still with you." If you make it a drinking game and take a shot for every time I try to gaslight myself, you'll be either alcoholic or dead. Just like if you make how many times I think about jumping or od-ing my way out of this miserable life, a drinking game you're probably rolling on the floor now. "Si OA" you might think but to give you an idea how bad it is I told my boss that I can't go to work because all I can think of that day is jumping. I don't get sick that often so if I said that I'm too sick to do something I'm probably lying and is just suicidal. I've been like this so often that in silence I can hear it. To be honest, I want to stop writing this now and just do it but writing this is how I cope. I write a lot of shitty notes on my phone. Incoherent stuff just like this. I tried to learn spanish, to paint again, to travel, to go to concerts, to listen to good music, to be healthy, to be pretty, to be smart, to be good, to be dependable, to be whatever and whoever it is that people need. I tried my very best to be the best friend but you still dont see me hanging out that often. I tried to be the best girlfriend but I got cheated on and lied to, not once, but god know how many times now. I tried to be a good person but I am still being demonized by people who know nothing about me. If being mean and nonchalant became the trend, I swear I was sleeping in my tiny room completely clueless.

Anyway, I'm starting to dissociate and as much as I want to write more, there is really nothing more to talk about. I just want to tell you that the best way to save a life is to be honest. People will know if you're just making an excuse, if you're lying, if you are just making something up and they are not dumb if they chose to believe you anyway. Anxious people observes more, listens better, and see much more than what you are trying to show and tell them. We know. We know how unwanted we are, we know that you don't prioritize us and we definitely know when you are taking us for granted. We know and we still gaslight ourselves just to soften up the blow. At some point being good and understanding becomes too much that we start to pity ourselves. At some point, it will drive us mad. and then, what?

Happy 28th birthday to me. I'm not really happy but I'll take birthday greetings as a win because who knows when it will be condolences and good byes.

[dzpenumbra]

3/27/23

I have to be brief here tonight. Who knows if I actually will be, I rarely am. But like... this is the third night in a row that I've been sleep deprived and thinking to myself "I really need to take advantage of this to reset my sleep schedule". And now... I'm just starting this and it's 12:45. Rather than like... 4.

I woke up after 5 hours of sleep from a nightmare. Not viscerally intense, just... generally upsetting, unsettling. I was talking with my former "friend" K who... has always had one form of drug problem or another. Hunger, self-control issues, that kinda thing, I guess. Chasing endorphin dumps her entire life. Hedonism, I guess, mostly drugs and sex.

I have no idea why I was friends with her, looking back. I was straight edge, I was a skateboarder. I guess we just had a similar sense of humor and she represented a lot of the bohemian things I wanted to explore in life. Specifically the spiritual stuff - at that age, ghost hunting, ouija, stuff like that - and the craft stuff. She always had hemp necklaces and tie dye shirts and cool glass beads and shit. That side of life, which she was directly tapped into, which was completely absent from my life... was so influential and appealing to me that many components of that life are still major components of my life to this day.

But she would constantly get herself into trouble. Constantly overspending, constantly using harder and harder drugs, constantly hooking up with people... often for those drugs, or just in the presence of them. Though I remained aloof to a lot of it, and kept my nose out of the stuff I did know about. I wanted nothing to do with it. I had male friends like that too, I just... changed the topic whenever they brought it up. It's not my thing and it's very awkward for me, not something I was used to at all and it would make me very uncomfortable. I am very one-on-one, I focus my attention on one person at a time, in all respects of life. It's just how I function, and how I get the most satisfaction in life, and for me, it produces the best results by far. Instead of giving 10 people 5% of my energy, I give one person 50% of my energy. And that... just means a lot more to me, even if it does hurt tremendously to lose those bonds. Or have them taken advantage of.

In this dream, K was younger. I don't know when this was supposed to take place, but it was before the "homeless arc", when I saw her last. Again, when I last saw her... she was smoking some form of hard drug by the river in the park where I used to go pretty much every day. She looked like a literal skeleton. As long as I've known her (since she was like... 17?) she was overweight, but I could like... see her damn cheekbones. I literally did not recognize her.

I was at the river to visit the spot where I spread my dog's ashes. And she was there smoking crack or something like 10 yards away. And she told me she lost custody of her 5 kids, and was facing criminal charges in another state for smuggling fentanyl across state lines. And told me a lot of horror stories. As I just stood there like a deer in headlights, she just dumped Requiem for a Dream-level stories on me one after another. And... it broke me. For real. I was terrified. I didn't go back to the river for like a week, and when I did, I was looking over my shoulder the whole time. I didn't want to leave my house. I was scared. She knew where I lived at the time. I was scared to sleep. I didn't know if her or her fucked up drug friends might come by my house and try to break in and steal my shit.

I remember when I walked back from the river to my car that day - very fast, mind you - I had one hand in my pocket the entire time, holding my keys between my fingers like Wolverine claws. A tip someone taught me way back as like... improvised self defense if you're in a city. It fuckin shook me.

In this dream though, I was just... once again... trying to show her the potential she has. And it ended right around when I was very directly emphasizing that she was a slave to the drugs, really. She worked for them, not the other way around. That she's always been an addict, and that's just what it is, and at some point you really have to accept that to be able to move forward and actually have a life. Because there are tools out there to make it work, there are addicts that live functional lives. It is possible. But it doesn't happen on its own, you have to fucking want it. I didn't get that far into explaining to her, I'm just elaborating here, I basically broke the news that drugs have been ruling her entire life and she decides when that ends. And then I woke up upset.

I didn't record the dream. I don't know why. I think I immediately went into analysis-mode instead of short-term memory recall mode, and ended up losing the memory milestones.

5 hours of sleep, then just decided to get up. Today I kept it really low-key. A lot of Valheim. I put together this thing that mounts my computer to my desk that my mom got me... 2 of? For some reason? But now my mouse is all wonky, I think the desk interferes with the wireless signal. I think I'm overdue for a mouse-keyboard upgrade anyway. I recorded some music, which was pretty good. Rounded out the night with some Session. Avoided Twitch. And now... I think I'm gonna try to get to bed at a decent hour.

I hope I can get to the skatepark tomorrow. Maybe it's just the sleep deprivation, maybe it's the isolation, but I'm starting to get pretty deeply depressed. That whole "not really enjoying anything I'm doing, feeling like I need to be doing literally anything else, but nothing specifically I want" feeling? Yeah, it was big today, still is. Stress and depression, most likely. Exercise will be good. Being around people who are hopefully chill will be good.

I have a lot of things piling up on the To-Do list, so... tomorrow might be a big one. It all depends on how the night goes. And honestly, I can't really remember the last time I went to sleep when it was dark out, so... I have no idea how this is going to go. Fingers crossed.

Positive Note - I watered my orchid, I'm still shocked that thing is still going strong. And I'm pretty well settled on the astrology chart for the back of the hoodie, but I didn't do any work on it today. It'll happen when it happens. :)

[literary-potato]

Ok so my brain is not in writing mode right now so I’m just gonna throw out worldbuilding stuff and people can ask me questions about it.

The world is a donut. It maybe used to be a very very flat ellipse and then Shit Happened. Still figuring out what the Shit in question was.

There is a supreme creator deity named The. I’m thinking there will be some kind of formatting to distinguish it from the regular article word.

In this world, there are two types of magic. The names are still a work in progress. There’s real magic where people can call on objects or non sentient creatures by their real name and get them to do exactly what the magic user intends. Then there’s invocation, which is where intention doesn’t matter at all, you have to describe EXACTLY what you want to do and in exactly what way, and if you don’t describe it then it’s effectively a wild card and it has the potential to go Very Badly.

The created the former and bestowed it upon people. The first man and first woman made the second under the suggestion of a dragon. Specifically a bad dragon.

Dragons are basically angels. Good and bad. They can change form but they always appear kind of unnatural or fantastic because they don’t have bodies, or if they do they are not spatial or perceptible to humans. Default appearance is usually a dragon-dragon when they’re big, a walking talking humanoid statue if they need to be smaller and interface with humans. (Think if an unpainted Greco Roman statue came to life, still made of marble, but also moving and having rippling clothes and hair and such.)

In addition to having a weird relationship with space & matter, they have a weird relationship with time. This is one complicating factor in their communications and interactions with humans.

The other complicating factor is that they don’t really speak. They give very precise impressions in the mind that are difficult to render as text — like when a writer is formulating a sentence, and they have in their mind several different ways they could phrase it, some of them stronger and some of them weaker, each with subtle nuances, all coexisting at once. As such, their “speech” is typically rendered as several iterations or slight variations of the same idea one after the other, separated by slashes, with the understanding that the message’s recipient is perceiving all these variations at once.

Back to magic. The reason the first man and first woman made invocation is that the bad dragon told them about this scary thing they didn’t understand where their time in their paradise would end and they would go away somewhere else, but he could show them a way to magically make it so they describe VERY SPECIFICALLY what they want to happen, and then DON’T go away from their world.

It…technically works. But not in the way they expected. They basically bind their bodies in a way that they stay on the world and don’t leave…only they didn’t specify what happens to their soul, so when they’re supposed to move on to whatever was supposed to come after (a process that was supposed to be painless and natural), they are instead torn apart as something tries to carry them on while the spell keeps them stuck to their world.

So now their descendants die and their ghosts wander the world, mostly imperceptible to the living. And also their descendants can’t do real magic anymore — once their ancestors STARTED doing the nitpicky invocations, that was all they could do. They broke magic and twisted it into something else.

Some of their descendants tried to get clever and bind their spirits to their bodies so they wouldn’t get torn apart and would just carry on living forever. This did not go as planned and now there are sometimes zombies.

I specify the descendants of the first man and first woman — there was also a second man. The first man’s best friend. He did not partake in the twisted invocation magic, so he doesn’t die and he can still sort of use real magic (though it weakened when the Twisting happened). However rather than passing on to whatever was intended to come next, he asked The if he could be permitted to stay rather than abandon his friend, and his request was granted. The second man had descendants of his own, who like him did not die of natural causes and could partially access the real magic, but they were not immune to Hubris and Evil and the rest. Also they bred with the first man’s kids, so you end up with a bunch of people who are a little of both.

The second man’s descendants create a couple of different empires and kingdoms over the centuries—some good, some evil. They rise and fall. The last empire that fell did so in such a catastrophic way that they left one half of the donut a desolate wasteland. (Basically they got really good at researching invocation, learned about the natural world and physics, and came up with a way to tell atoms to split apart. It went about as well as you can expect due to the Hubris.)

More later.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Graveyard Siblings (3)

Some for revenge and some sibling bonding.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)

-------

Adrien was next to be visited. Plagg woke him up from his sleep.

-------

“Kit, wake up. I want camembert.”

“Plagg, silence. You are not getting any cheese if you do that.”

“Sorry, Adrien but you are not my ‘master’ anymore.”

“Plagg? Why are you here? Where’s the ring?”

“The ring is as far away as possible and kept safely away. I am here because someone wants to talk to you.”

“Who?”

A cloaked, hooded figure stepped out of the shadows to his room.

“Kitty. My Chaton. Did you miss me?” A sweet, familiar but yet so terrifying voice came from the figure.

She pulled down the hood to reveal Ladybug with a wicked-looking black mask with white lenses.

“What am I talking about? You do miss me. Your Bugaboo. Too bad I don’t feel the same, Adrien.”

Lightning flashed and it started to rain. The mask was gone, revealing his dead classmate, Marinette with chilling red eyes. The pigtails grew longer and curved upwards, giving the illusion of her having horns. Twin blades flashed and she leaped towards him. (Damian gave them to her with some lessons in exchange for spending time with, babysitting, the kwamis.)

Adrien scrambled away from the bed in the nick of time. A sword impaling the spot where he just was.

“Plagg, help. Where is the ring? I need to transform.”

“Sorry, kitten. I am not telling you. Even if you did have the ring, it’s not going to be much help.”

“Kitty, stay still. Then, we can be together. Just like you wanted.”

Adrien continued to dodge.

“What do you mean?” He all but screamed at Plagg.

“Pigtails, here, is a vengeful spirit. She’s not going to stop until she is satisfied. How about asking her what she wants?”

“Ladybug, what do you want?”

“What I wanted was a partner I could rely on, someone I can trust with my life, someone who wouldn’t stab me in the back for his own selfish gain. I wanted a friend who would have my back and not tell me to keep quiet at the price of my mental health and my relationships with people I care about. WAS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!”

She managed to get a cut on his left cheek.

Soon, he was on the ground, bleeding out on the round.

“Tell Hawkmoth that he better watch out. Because-” lightning struck and Plagg and Ladybug had disappeared, “his downfall is coming.” Her voice echoed through his room.

Adrien laid bleeding until Natalie opened the door after hearing a crash from the room and came to check on him. As she called an ambulance for Adrien, she wondered if it wasn’t too late to ask for redemption and be spared from Ladybug’s wrath for her part in her murder.

Adrien had the word ‘TRAITOR’ carved into his back. Forever reminding him of his crimes.

--------

He wasn’t in school for a week after the incident. They all were told that Adrien had an accident while fencing.

Gabriel was a little panicking now.

He hired an exorcist, (John Constantine got a hefty amount and did a few flashy magic tricks to appease Gabriel but he didn’t lift the curse Maria put on the place. She is not someone to be on the bad side of and he thinks that he can’t lift it even if he wanted to.)

Emilie gets a little sus at Gabriel when he brought this strange man with a British accent into their home after their son got attacked in his own room with security tighter than Fort Knox.

She doesn’t buy that ‘accident’ bullshit that her husband, son and even Natalie tries to sell her. She thinks it is connected to what happened while she was in a coma.

-----

Adrien has a curse too.

(Credit to @raeuberprinzessin for giving me an idea)

He couldn’t act like the ‘Perfect Adrien’ in public anymore. Acting more like Chat Noir at first then, later a spoiled brat. His friends thought that he was finally rebelling against his father and encouraged it a lot.

Adrien started criticizing other people, strangers at first then to the people working on the photoshoots to his fans to his other school mates, people in his class and his friends. (The curse planted ideas into his head about what he should say and he said them all without thinking about the effect it has on other people)

People started avoiding him not liking his attitude and his comments about how they should behave and change something about them because he doesn’t like it that way and guilt-tripping them when he doesn’t get his way. Even Nino started to distance himself after he saw how Adrien talked to a fan.

The public thought it was a phase but as he got progressively worse, people started despising him. Adrien doesn’t realize this of course so far, happy that his father let him get away with ‘ruining the Agreste image.’ (Gabriel was worried about a potential vengeful ghost and making sure his wife didn't know about his stint as a supervillain. There was also the fact that the Afterlife made more sales than him again and managed to get on the cover of Vogue when he should have, dammit.) He was finally able to say what he wanted to without repercussions. Until he realized when Nino and everyone else cancelled for a hangout for the third time that week that he was slowly losing his friends.

He panics and tries to fix the situation. He didn’t want to be alone again.

He talks to Nino about it and to his horror, he couldn’t stop himself from saying many things that were a little hurtful. (Second part. The moment he realizes he is going to be alone. He is going to find out that yes, lies can hurt people. He is going to see it happen firsthand.)

Nino moved seats and told Adrien that their friendship was on hold until he apologized.

Soon, nearly every time his mouth opened, lies and insults about his friends or their embarrassing secrets came spilling out. Everyone hated him now and Mme. Bustier tried to give him a reprimand about his behaviour, which when he tried to defend himself, he found himself unable to speak.

He managed to explain to his father what caused his unpopularity by writing what happened to him. Unfortunately due to his poor behaviour before the second part of the curse was activated, his fan base was dwindling and people didn’t like him anymore so there was a hit on the Gabriel brand.

He no longer has to do modeling, clearing his schedule. But no one would spend time with him.

The best solution he could do with his predicament was to keep quiet and endure the loneliness and the glares of his classmates at school. Adrien was relegated to the back and nearly everyone avoided him. He was now a social pariah.

Even Lila avoided him because of her own curse which made Adrien turn into one of her previous victims. (She also didn’t ponder why Marinette rarely appears compared to the others.)

If Adrien felt a tiny bit remorseful or guilty for making Marinette keep quiet or betraying Ladybug, he can gain a little control over what he says.

The curse can be broken if he apologizes to Maria herself or to her grave.

------

The first few months, while Marinette adapted to living with the Waynes, Jason stayed over at Wayne Manor because having Maria living with him at his apartment wasn’t a good idea and he had no clue how to take care of a teenage girl.

On paper she is adopted by Bruce because Jason can’t. (Some CPS reasons.)

Making Jason a little more salty towards Bruce. “I found her first. I called dibs.”

Brought Maria to meet the other Outlaws and they adopted her too. “Hey, guys. She’s my sister first.”

Jason was the one to teach her how to shoot a gun because he was ‘the most capable’ of teaching her.

The first few months were a little tense with Marinette not fully trusting them and the same with the rest of the Batfam.

Jason warmed her up a bit to him by telling a little of why he took her here.

He was also the one to book them flight to Paris with Bruce’s credit card so she can tell her friends that she wasn’t dead in person.

They bonded more after stopping some nefarious plot in Paris while they were there. Let’s say Gentleman Ghost and something involving the catacombs in Paris. (I watched some Batman: Brave and the Bold for childhood nostalgia.)

Kwamis were animal-shaped and they were interesting creatures to be around. And very very curious.

There was a stressful day for Maria when all the Kwamis decided to play hide and seek. Damian somehow got roped into helping her as the only available person in the Manor and he will deny that he enjoyed it.

Damian is the little brother she always wanted and she is more tolerable compared to his brothers. There is also the fact that she trusts him with the kwamis and deep down, he feels super-honoured. (I just love older sister!Mari)

Tim and her being insomniac/coffee buddies. There has been many many interventions to stop this.

I get that Marinette is this selfless person and loves making people happy but she has siblings now and them eating the stuff she made for herself to enjoy, should get on her nerves after a while.

She makes a box with booby-traps in which she puts in her cookies and food.

There are many different layers of traps because this is the Batfam and each of them is non-lethal and more ridiculous.

Okay, I once read a fic about Marinette making a bear-trap style box to hide the Miracle Box so this box is also like that but kept for food. (Traps and Sneaks by quicksilversquared)

Someone (I vote a hungry Dick or Jason, maybe a suspicious Bruce) made a mistake of putting their hand into the box and the first trap activated.

Screams filled the house.

Everyone came down including Marinette.

Bruce asked, “Who did this?”

“It was me.”

“Why?”

“They kept eating the cookies.”

“There are other ways to stop them from doing that you know like a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign not a death trap box.”

“They are non-lethal.”

Bruce locked it away but Tim later stole it to tweak it and store his coffee. ------ (Part 4)

[versadies]

Heya! May I request a childe x reader where the reader is an influencer who does 3am challenges (like stormedy)? Like when childe shows her his foul legacy form and he’s floating she thinks it was the ghost and screams ‘OMG YOUR POSSESSED BECAUSE YOUR FLOATING! HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN THO I SWEAR I SAID BYE ON THE OUJABOARD-‘ and childe would be like ???> Or maybe at 3am childe wakes up to his s/o screaming ‘WERE ALL GONNA DIE SIRI IS GONNA KILL US!’ anyways thank you ^^

POSSESSED (modern!au, hc scenario)

penpal: hope you don't mind me making this sort of a crackfic. this prompt made me laugh a lot ngl

pairing/s: childe x gn!influencer!reader

warning/s: spoilers to liyue archon quest (all acts) and mentions of spirit-related stuff (please do not try to use the oujia board!)

sypnosis: one night while you two are getting ready to go to bed, childe decides to show you his foul legacy transformation, thinking that you might leave him because of it. that is until he accidentally scares you, making you think your lover is possessed by a spirit you talk to in the ouija board.

note: i decided to make this au like the one i did with ningguang x reader anniversary fic whereas teyvat is more modern but still has its special stuff (like the adeptus, visions, archons, etc.). with that aside, enjoy!

-> out of all the things childe didn't expect himself to do, he did not expect himself to date an influencer.

-> at first, he was confused with the purpose of your content and has so many questions about it– you're actually willing to risk your life for those who watch your videos? do you actually sleep? how do you know if there's a ghost or not?

-> it wasn't until he sees your reactions that he starts to understand why so many people love your videos. although half of your viewers don't believe that what you're doing is true, they only watch solely to be entertained from your reactions.

-> he honestly doesn't mind the screaming and the noises you'd make while he's trying to sleep. in fact, he'll sometimes actually join you on your so-called adventures and finds himself having fun with you. if you beg for it, he'll even record you.

-> surely with him accepting your career even if it affects his sleeping schedule, you'd also accept his despite what he did throughout his job, right?

-> ever since childe told you about his job, he was thinking if whether or not he should tell you about his delusion. he's honestly relieved that you didn't mind him being a harbinger, but is it safe to say that you wouldn't mind him having the one thing that could potentially kill him if he's careless enough?

-> after countless of thoughts that won't go away, he decided to tell you about his second secret one night when you're not recording another video.

"where are you going?" you ask, sitting up from your bed as you watch your lover walking out to the door, not bothering to turn on the lights. "i'm going to uh, show you my secret?" childe explains, not taking a glance of you as he walks out.

as soon as he closes the door, you were alone. you would be lying if you said you don't want to at least take a peek of what childe is doing outside of the room. does he have something you don't know of? is he actually just making an excuse to give you another expensive gift? or was he just trying to scare you?

suddenly you heard the door creek open, causing your breath to hitch in surprise.

"...childe?" you asked, trying to turn on the light. you took note of how his footsteps are oddly.. loud along with how he's being quiet. is he purposefully stomping on the ground?

as soon as you turn on the lights, you screamed.

"OH MY GOD!" you yelled, frantically crawling backwards from the now floating creature. "BEGONE SATAN! B-BEGONE!"

"y/n wait, it's me, childe–" you scream even more in surprise from the creature's voice. how can a voice go that deep?! you thought to yourself.

"OH MY GOD CHILDE IS THAT YOU?! ARE YOU POSSESSED?!" you shriek, falling from your bed without realizing it. "I'M SO SORRY CHILDE, I SWEAR– I SAID GOODBYE TO THE OUJIA BOARD, I MADE SURE OF IT!"

as you continue to try to back away from childe, he watches in both confusion and amusement. "y/n calm down, it's just my–"

"OMG DON'T WORRY CHILDE, I'LL GET THAT DEMON OFF FROM YOUR BODY!!"

he then sighs. this is going to take a while.

30 minutes have passed, the two of you finally settled the conversation calmly– with childe having to turn back to normal in order to calm you down from the fright.

"uh, are you alright now?" he asks, giving you a glass of water as the both of you sat down by your shared bed.

"uhm, yeah, yeah." you replied, voice hoarse from screaming so much. "sorry about that, that was uhm.. uncalled of me to react inappropriately."

"oh it's fine, it's uh, understandable really."

the both of you slowly went silent, both embarrassed and awkward with the situation you're in.

"so..." you place your drink by the night stand. "do you usually... use that form whenever you fight??"

childe shook his head, his shoulders tenses. "not exactly. it's only for emergencies since it uh, has some side effects if i use it too long."

your eyes widens slightly. "oh."

he looks at you nervously. "...do you... hate me for it? for having it?"

you shook your head instantly. "no, no. if anything, i think it looks... cool." you confessed, chuckling to yourself. "i was just really surprised because it wasn't exactly what i was thinking when you said you want to show me something."

he smiles, relaxing his shoulders. "well, your reaction is hilarious–"

"w-well in my defense, i was playing with the ouija board the other night! you know how i am." you defended yourself.

before childe could comment, the both of you heard a loud thump by the room beside yours, causing the both of you to flinch.

"...please tell me that's one of your side effects for your uhm, other form."

"...only if you actually have a footage of yourself saying goodbye to the oujia board, then i might answer your question."

[thefanficmonster]

corpse x reader headcanons where reader is a companion android that his sister bought for him? (android as in like in detroit become human)

Ooooh omg I love that idea so much! Here are some headcanons 🤗

~ Enjoy 💕

Companionship

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Android!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Mistrust, Angst 

Genre: Angst to Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

- "Why can't you at least try to tolerate me? Won't that be easier than avoiding me when I'm in the same damn apartment with you? And this apartment isn't particularly large, mind you."

- "If the apartment isn't big enough for the both of us I'm not the one that should leave, you machine."

- Trying is your strong suit, not his apparently

- Not that it leads you to much

- It always brings you to this almost scripted exchange with Corpse

- Your tries are worth little when he is not willing to try too

- And by 'try' I'm talking about him actually giving you a chance instead of assuming you're evil and harboring a hidden agenda of killing him

- The thought is so fucking ridiculous to you but you can't really blame him for what's going through his head considering it's been implemented there by the news he hears and reads

- Sometimes you can't help but scoff at that: you're the android yet he's programmed by others more than you

- The media has brainwashed him into the side that fears your kind

- And what humans fear they aim to destroy

- And those not brave enough to destroy the potential threat settle for despising it with all their might

- Yeah, Corpse is one of them

- He spends the majority of the time in his recording room, pretending you're not there

- Thankfully, he at least understands his sister had only well-meaning intentions when she got you for him as a gift since she was moving to New York for college and didn't want him to feel so lonely

- There's the thing though, one thing you noticed despite his barriers and walls surrounding him: he's constantly lonely

- And, worryingly enough, he doesn't mind it whatsoever and doesn't try to do anything to change it

- You're an Android but you still understand the need a human has for a companion in their life

- But it all changed one night

- You saw him in a different light 

- When you heard him cry at some ungodly hour of the night

- That’s one human trait you think you’ve had since day one, before you even had any human interaction: compassion

- No matter how often or how hard he pushed you away, you still wanted to be there for him, still wanted to be the companion you were meant to be

- Because you too were lonely, but admitting that would lead nowhere considering no one would believe an Android can feel such an emotion

- So, with no hesitation, you immediately went to his aid, though your movements were cautious, unsure of how to handle the situation

- “Hey...what’s wrong, Corpse?” it was obvious he wasn’t ok so what was the point in asking him how he was doing, you just dug right into the issue

- “So much. So fucking much.”

- He proceeded to tell you all that’d been on his mind as of recent

- All that bothered him

- All that he hated about his life and himself

- And you just listened, each word of his hitting you in the device that served the purpose of a heart in your system

- You may not feel pain like humans do, but there’s a whole chunk of you that’s more human than most people and it was more than enough to feel for him and feel the need to comfort him

- Luckily, he let you

- And even more luckily: it worked

- That’s what changed everything between you

- That night’s events turned your companionship into something more alike a friendship and not the previous status of roommates who ignore each other

- One question he couldn’t resist though

- “How do you know what loneliness feels like? Did they program it into you when they made you?” Corpse asked after a long moment of silence following the drying of his tears

- You couldn’t help but laugh: “No silly, no ‘soft’ emotions were implemented in me when I was made. However, you yourself implemented that loneliness with your behavior. Imagine not being able to do the only thing you’re meant to do: be there for someone is that thing for me. And you refused to allow me to fulfill my duty. It made me feel useless and like a lost cause, you know.”

- Another long moment of silence followed meant for Corpse to process all you just told him. Such dark things with such a lighthearted tone

- “I’m so sorry” he said eventually, unable to look at you, “But...if we’re gonna be friends I don’t want you seeing it as a duty you must fulfill, Y/N.”

- “Deal!“ You surprised him with your enthusiasm, “But you gotta promise not to push me away cause it fucking sucks. I won’t kill you, my kind won’t take over the world, I’m not evil and I know how to work the washing machine, unlike you - I see no reason for us to not be friends.“

- This managed to get a laugh out of him, a genuine laugh that brought a smile to your face

- “Alright, alright, deal.”

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[maximons]

Into The Sanctum

Chapter Summary: Doctor Strange brings Y/n into the sanctum as he explains to her the situation at hand. However, the introductions to the team don’t go very smoothly.

Word Count: 3,021

A/N: Here we are with chapter 2! This one is a lot shorter than the first, and honestly the rest of the chapters will likely be around this length lol Hope you enjoy!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

“Y/n Fenton. 26 years old, acquired her abilities in 2019 after a lab accident.” Wong started explaining as he brought up multiple images and video clips of you throughout the years, using his magic. “Known abilities; Able to switch between human and ghost form at will, Invisibility, Intangibility, Flight, Able to overshadow other humans, Super Strength and Speed, Can summon ghost energy in a ‘ghost ray’, and Cryokinesis.” The sorcerer finished, leaving everyone in a moment of silence, not sure how to proceed after all that information.

“Whoa, that’s awesome.” Peter said in awe, but no-one else shared his excitement.

“We’re going to recruit a ghost...to fight other ghosts?” Loki was the first to ask.

“Fight fire with fire and all that.” Strange responded.

“How do we know we can trust her? Isn’t she one of them?”

“Yes, but she’s also human. Besides, just because she’s a ghost, doesn’t mean she’s automatically bad.” Wanda now piped up. “And you’re one to talk, Loki. Aren’t you technically a Frost Giant?”

“Yes I am, and look how well I turned out. Not exactly a good sales pitch.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Strange interrupted. “This isn’t up for debate. The ghost realm is bleeding into our world more and more every minute, and Fenton is our best shot.” Strange slipped on his sling ring and began opening a portal. “I’m going to talk to her.” Before anyone could respond, Strange stepped through, portal closing behind him.

Everyone stood in silence for a moment, before Peter spoke up. “C’mon, I can’t be the only one who thinks this is cool.”

“The very fabric of our reality being at risk and our world being overtaken by ghosts is ‘cool’ to you, Peter?” Wong asked, causing Peter to scratch the back of his neck shyly.

“Well, when you put it like that...”

Amity Park

You and Tucker were walking down the street, heading to your favorite donut shop. You stared at your phone as you walked, not really worried about bumping into anyone or anything as you used your powers to subtlety phase through them.

“Hear anything?” Tucker asked and you shook your head.

“No, haven’t heard in hours now. She’s really mad.” 

“Well, you did manage to almost get yourself killed the other day.”

“I’ve been doing this for years now, I know what I’m doing. Besides, I’m already literally half dead.”

“Not the point.” Tucker sighs. “C’mon, you’ve been dating her for over a year, and have been best friends for even longer. You should know her by now. She’s scared.”

“I’m not faulting her for being scared, but I can’t keep going through fight after fight with her for just doing my job.”

“Is it really your job though?” Tucker shrugged, causing you to stop in your tracks. Him following a second later. “I’m just saying, there are a bunch of heroes back now after the blip. It wouldn’t kill you to take a few days off.”

“They can’t do what I do. And they don’t know what we know.”

“You don’t gotta be all cryptic” Tucker laughed and you couldn’t help but chuckle along.

“Yeah, maybe not.” You shrugged. “I don’t know though, we’re the only ones who really know how to deal with these ghosts. I love helping people, but I’m tired of this too sometimes. I’d love to be able to leave Amity Park, really start my life, but...I can’t. All the ghosts come from here, and I gotta do my best to keep it that way.”

Tucker opened his mouth to form a response, but before he could, a bright orange light appeared. The light began to form into a portal and a man with white and black hair, dressed head to toe in blue robes and a read cape, appeared.

“Y/n Fenton?” He asked, which took you and Tucker aback. You looked to your best friend before looking back at the man.

“Uh, who’s asking?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, and-”

“Wait, that’s you?” You interrupted, eyes wide.

“Yes? I assume you’ve heard of me then?”

Your eyes hardened at this. You knew the name Dr. Strange a little too well. He, along with Iron Man, had been part of the reason behind the death of your parents, having been part of that fateful fight in New York. You knew logically that this man didn’t go out of his way to kill your parents, and that he likely didn’t start that fight, but still. You didn’t appreciate the reminder. 

“Yeah. I have.”

Strange noticed the shift in your tone and tilted his head in confusion. You two stood in a stand off for a few moments before Tucker coughed beside you.

“Sorry, but uh, you’re one of the Avengers right?” He asked as he started to fanboy.

“I guess you can say I was, though they aren’t really around anymore.”

“Still, that’s so cool! Hey, did you know Iron Man before he-”

“What do you want?” You interrupted as you crossed your arms, eyes still glaring at the wizard.

Strange regained his composure as he continued. “I need you to come with me. It’s quite literally a matter of life or death.”

Your hard glare faded and in turn you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Ghosts are pouring into our world, their reach is now far outside of Amity Park.” Your eyes widened when the wizard said this. You figured you shouldn’t be surprised that Strange knew of this, but you really weren’t sure how to react. “And I know you’re a little more than familiar about ghosts...considering your biology.” Now you really didn’t know how to react. You dropped your arms as you tilted your head towards Tucker.

“So much for that day off.”

Sanctum Santorum

Wanda stepped out of the room as the back and forth between the boys started. She needed a moment to herself to think, she needed air. She made her way to the rooftop and leaned on the edge, looking over the city.

She knew that her life would always entail having to deal with potential world ending threats. It was that way when she was an Avenger, and even more so now after becoming the Scarlet Witch. It got tiring, but she wouldn’t give up the responsibility. Not after Westview. Besides, it beat the alternative that Agatha had predicted for her, destroying the world.

But damn, a break would be nice.

Ghosts? Seriously? She guessed that she really shouldn’t be surprised that they exist, over the last year she’s seen some crazy stuff, but ghosts seemed like a scary concept. And not in a ‘Halloween spooky’ kind of way, it was more of a fear of the unknown. If all ghosts had the same capabilities as the Fenton girl had, she had no idea how she would be able to combat that.

Speaking of the Fenton girl, she couldn’t help but be intrigued. From what she’s seen and heard, the girl knew what she was doing, so she failed to see why she and the rest of the team had to get involved. Still, she figured that they should do whatever they could to help stop this threat.

She also agreed with Peter in that she was ‘awesome’, but she wasn’t about to voice that.

She took a deep breath as she bowed her head, calming her nerves. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe it could be easily fixed and they could all get back to their lives quickly. She knew that was unrealistic, but she had to have a sliver of hope every now and again or she’d go insane.

“Wanda!” She heard Peter’s voice in her head, way too loudly. She cringed as she held her head.

“Peter, we’ve talked about this. You don’t need to be so loud.”

“Sorry, Wanda. Doctor Strange told me to tell you to come back down. Y/n is here.”

“Okay, thank you Peter.” She felt the boy’s presence leave her mind as she picked her head up. She shook her head, ridding herself of the pain while preparing herself as she headed downstairs.

A Few Moments Before

The telltale orange sparks started forming in the main hall of the Sanctum. Soon after, a portal opened and Strange had stepped out, but this time was followed by two people. A woman who was looking around in a mix of confusion and awe, and a man who seemed to be bursting with excitement.

“Whoa! What was that!? That was so cool!” The man turned to the woman in excitement. “Was that magic!?”

“Yeah Tuck, but we gotta be cool here, okay?” The woman told ‘Tuck’ in a hushed whisper.

“Right, sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I had the same reaction.” Peter piped up with a smile. He walked over to the two new figures, hand stretched out. “I’m Peter Parker.”

“Tucker Foley.” Tucker’s smile reappeared as he shook the boy’s hand excitedly.

Peter turned to the woman standing next to him. “And you’re Y/n Fenton, right?” You chuckled as you grabbed Peter’s hand, shaking it as well.

“I guess I’m famous around here.” 

“We just found out about your existence an hour ago, but I suppose you can call it fame.” Loki piped up, and you turned to him. Eyes widening a second later.

“Holy shit! Aren’t you the guy who led the alien invasion in New York?”

“That was over ten years ago, darling, let’s leave the past in the past.” Loki shrugged. “Besides, I’m doing the whole ‘hero’ thing now.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“It varies.”

“Okay that’s enough for the introductions, now-” Strange started before Peter cut him off.

“Wait, what about Wanda?” 

“Get her down here while I catch our new guests up.” Peter nodded as he began to call to Wanda with his mind. “Now, Y/n, you’ve done a lot of good over the last few years. Keeping the ghostly threat contained to Amity Park while the rest of the world remains none the wiser is quite impressive.”

“Aw, thanks.” You smirked with a shrug.

“However, those efforts might have only delayed this.” Before you could ask what the wizard was talking about, he brought up an illusion showing ghosts starting to spill through tears that were seemingly in mid air. “The Ghost Realm is starting to tear into our own.”

“Wait, the what?” You asked, causing Strange to falter slightly.

“The Ghost Realm?” He responded with a raise of his brow.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Um, where all of the ghosts are coming from? The source of your powers? You’ve been dealing with it for years-”

“Oh!” You shouted, finally realizing. “Yeah, we’ve been calling that the Ghost Zone.” You started to chuckle, Tucker joining, but everyone else remained silent for a moment.

“Right...” Strange proceeded. “Well the ‘Ghost Zone’ is starting to become a problem everywhere. We need your help.”

You coughed as you regained your composure, turning serious. “How is this even possible?”

“We were hoping you knew.”

“Look, I might know a lot about the Ghost Zone, but I don’t know everything. I’ve kinda just been dealing with it as it came for the last five years.”

“Well, it looks like you’re about to get a lot more proficient.” Loki said. Before Y/n could respond though, a new presence entered the room.

Wanda walked into the main hall where she found everyone in a heated discussion. She walked in further when she finally spotted the two new faces. A nerdy looking man, and the woman who she recognized as Y/n Fenton. She took a moment to observe her. She was in casual clothing, a white t-shirt covered with a red sweat jacket with jeans and red sneakers. A brown messenger bag slung across her body, indicating that she was on her way somewhere before she was brought here.

Wanda had only really seen Y/n in her Phantom form, since that was the only relevant part of her that they needed to know at the time, but she couldn’t help but think that the human side was captivating as well.

Wait a minute, what?

No, she wasn’t supposed to be looking at other people like this. Not after Vision. She never even thought someone else could turn her head again for one, but she also felt like she was betraying Vision and all they had by even simply staring at someone else for too long.

She coughed, as she tried to get rid of those thoughts, but in doing so she garnered the attention of everyone else in the room.

“Oh, good. Y/n, this is the Scarlet Witch. Otherwise known as Wanda Maximoff.” Strange had introduced her, and she gave a small smile along with a shy wave in response.

You, however, did not have the same welcoming response. You straightened up as your face tightened, eyes widening slightly. You recognized that name. “Wanda Maximoff...as in ‘Westview’ Wanda Maximoff?” You asked the room, however your eyes never left Wanda, who’s face now dropped.

The room stood in silence for a moment before Peter spoke up. “Yeah, um, we don’t really bring that up.”

“Yeah? Well, I am.” Before anyone could register what was happening, You changed into Phantom and blasted a powerful ghost ray towards Wanda. 

The blast hit her square on, knocking her to the ground. The witch shook the attack off quickly as she stood up. The awe that she had previously while staring at you was now replaced with anger, as she shifted from her current outfit into the Scarlet Witch. Hands and eyes glowing red, as your own hands and eyes glowed green. The two women stared each other down as the men stared in varying states of shock. 

Tucker was the only one who seemed to know what was going on as he brought his hand up and grabbed the bridge of his nose. “Oh man.”

“What the hell was that for!?” Wanda asked, almost shouting in anger. Your face didn’t waver however. You gritted the next words out, as you were also seething in anger.

“My sister was there.”

Everyone stood in silence for a few moments after the revelation, not sure how to continue. Wanda remained standing, but the red faded from her eyes and hands. Her gaze fell downwards for a moment as she straightened up. After no-one spoke for several moments, you continued. “I hope your little sitcom fantasy was worth it, cause Jazz is still going to therapy because of you.” You scoffed. “You didn’t even have the decency to give her a speaking part. Just one of your little extras.” 

Wanda sighed as tears started to spring to her eyes at the reminder. She shifted back into her normal clothing. “Look, I really am sorry for the pain I caused. I truly didn’t know at the time.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You scoffed before turning to address the rest of the room. “She’s a fucking terrorist. Actually, now that I think about it, what the hell am I doing in a room with all of you!?” 

You looked around briefly before pointing at Loki harshly. “You’re a fucking psychopath who almost took over the world!” Loki shot his hands up in surrender as you turned to point at Strange next.

“You were part of the fight in New York that killed my parents!” Strange’s eyes widened slightly at the revelation, but he didn’t get to say anything as you turned to Wong. 

“I know you were there too!” You finished by landing on Peter. 

“And you-” You cut yourself off as you realized you didn’t have anything against the kid. Still, you were stubborn and too into your rant to stop there. “I actually don’t know anything about you, but I’m sure you’re no good if you’re hanging around these freaks!”

“We’re the freaks?” Loki asked incredulously, as he couldn’t help himself. “Sweetheart, you’re basically dead.”

“Better being dead than a fucking murderer.” You seethed out. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t care. My responsibility is to my home and to those I love, that’s it. I never signed up for this life, and even if I did, I definitely wouldn’t wanna work with any of you.” You began to float and move over to Tucker, who had been watching the whole exchange in silence. You grabbed his arm, taking you up with you. “Good luck, sounds like you’re gonna need it. I’m out of here.”

With that you began to fly up, Tucker in your arms. You sped up heading towards the ceiling. You were about to go intangible to phase out of the building, when suddenly, your ghost ring appeared around your waist and separated, turning you back into a human.

Your eyes widened as you and Tucker began to plummet back to the floor, but before you both hit it, red wisps surrounded you both, breaking the fall. They didn’t last long though, as a second later the disappeared, making you both hit the ground harshly. Tucker rubbed his arm as you brought your hands up to look at them, wondering what happened.

“What the hell was that!?” You asked as you looked back up to the people in the room.

“I went into your mind and triggered your transformation.” Wanda answered, and you could’ve sworn you saw a slight smirk on her face. Your face hardened once again.

“Stay the hell out of my head.”

“Alright, enough!” Strange shouted, finally putting an end to this. “Y/n, I understand your hesitation. I do. You don’t have to like us, you don’t even have to trust us, but believe me when I say we cannot do this without you. You may be angry at the world, hell all of us are, but we need you to put that aside.” 

You stood up, offering a helping hand to Tucker, but your gaze remained on Strange. You sighed, knowing you couldn’t ignore the severity of the situation. No matter how much you wanted to. You hesitated for a moment before finally speaking up.

“Okay. So what do we do now?”

[kenmasangel]

Fight ; Ushijima Wakatoshi

characters : ushijima wakatoshi, f!reader

synopsis : you and ushijima had your first real lowkey hardcore fight as a couple

genre : angst, fluff

ps : i am trying my best lol, i am new at this if you any remarks my dm's are open. hope you enjoy <3

masterlist

both you and your boyfriend, ushijima play volleyball that is actually what pulled you closer and ushi couldn't be happier

you've always enjoyed playing volleyball; it wasn't your passion and you wouldn't dedicate your life for it like ushijima but you still did your best all the time and you were pretty good

you actually were captain of the team for a while but then just decided to be a normal player

you practiced really hard; you didn't want to disappoint your boyfriend who was a great volleyball player

it really stressed you out though, especially when people would compare you or make really uncalled for remarks (this was maybe even one of the reasons you quit as a captain)

anyway these last days you haven't been feeling really good, the exams were upcoming and you wanted to keep up your excellent grades so you could attend the college of your dream

and not to make things better you had a practice match with you-don't-know-what-team and you couldn't care less

even if you were attending practice you were still kind of lacking, you wouldn't give it your all as usual and your teammates noticed that, you tried conving your coach into keeping you on the bleachers but he just wouldn't give up on you and your amazing serves

so here you were, sleep deprived, stressed out about school work and volleyball and your boyfriend didn't seem to notice anything, he would ask you times to times if anything is wrong but you would brush him off since you knew he was already preoccupied with the nationals

ushijima wasn't dumb though, he knew something was off with you but since you kept telling him not to worry he thought he would give you time unil you feel completely comfortable talking about it

he would kiss your forehead and tell you that he is here anytime

i ship you guys so bad wtf 😔

and as if the universe was against you, the day before your practice match you had an important exam, “at this point i should drop out and become a stripper” you thought to yourself as you were cramming informations into your brain

after your exam you headed to the gym to practice, you and your team stayed until late night and needless to say you only had few hours of sleep because you also had to wake up early to practice your serves, you didn't even have time to see your boyfriend so he could encourage you

you were exhausted, your brain was about to explode and your coach would still not let stay on the bleachers. the only thing positive was that ushijima sent you a good luck text message the night before

the match started, you were trying so hard to stay focused and to fall asleep; your serves were not as sharp as usual, you would miss the ball many times and the coach finally decided to change you with someone else

what you were not aware of is that ushijima and tendou came to watch the match and support you, they were weirded out at the way you were playing, it clearly was not in your habits to play that way

your team won the match but you couldn't care less, you just wanted to go home and sleep for one week straight

there were still a few people in the gym, you were getting ready to leave; you didn't even notice that the trio was coming your way

“y/n!” you heard tendou call you, “oh, hi sorry i didn't notice you were here” you replied, closing your bag “what's up?” you ask

“what's up with you? are you okay?” tendou asks, “what ?” you didn't know they saw everything, you kept staring at them until it hit you “oh, so you guys watched the match”

“yes, and what was all that about?” asked ushijima. “we can't always play well, you know” you shrugged, they were staring at you kind of shocked

“what? y/n did you see your serves ? did you see how many times you missed easy balls? it was almost as if i was watching a beginner! the team almost lost because of you” ushijima replies

“okay and ? i told the coach not to put me on the field yet he did. not my fault” you answered, it stung hearing him say that but it was true and you knew it

“thank god #8 came in, she saved the game ” he adds, what started annoying you. the last thing you wanted was to fight with your boyfriend

“good for them,” you clapped back in a cold tone what sent shivers down tendou's spine. he didn't want to get in between you two and he didn't know how to react since it was his first time seeing you like that

“you are my girlfriend, you know better! you should know this isn't only about others but the whole team! i heard people say stuff i didn't want to hear when you were playing an-” he couldn't finish when you cut him off

“ i know what people say ushijima! i know i am not dumb. and what if i am your girlfriend ? does that make me obliged to be a good volleyball player like you ? volleyball isn't my dream as far as i know i also have other dreams and other goals ushijima, but do you even care ? do you even bother asking me what i am passionate about ? and if you're ashamed of me, the so-bad volleyball player why don't you just go out with other great players ?” you snapped, what made the gym go quiet and all eyes stare at you and your boyfriend.

you gave him a last glance , took your stuff and went home

him and tendou stood there, alone now that everyone have left, still trying to comprehend what just happened, “wow, i’ve never seen y/n-chan like that” tendou broke the silence between him and ushijima. he didn’t answer tho, his mind was still replaying the fight you two had

you never fought; you guys were both mature and dealt with every situation you had to go through rationally so this fight really made ushijima tense up, something that tendou noticed

“ushijima,” tendou started as they were walking back to their dorms. “did you notice that y/n wasn’t feeling good right ?”

“hm? what?” the green eyed boy looked at him confused

“y/n is definetly not feeling good, you could tell just by looking at her face,” he stopped a moment before he continued “you can’t be oblivious to your girlfriend feeling bad, can you ?”

“look, i am not one to tell you what to do ushijima, this is your relationship but take good care of y/n before you loose her. she is a wonderful person and i know people who are just waiting for the right moment to have a chance with her,” he finished, sighing

“i don’t know what to do, we’ve never had a fight like this before and i sure don’t want to loose her,” finally stated ushijima burying his face in his hands, “i know i am lucky to have her, but you know how i suck at this relationship stuff...”

“give her time to cool down, but not too much time too. anyway goodnight” tendou pats ushijima’s shoulder before getting into his dorm

the days after you tried to keep it lowkey; you didn’t go to practice, you’d spend most of your time alone in the library or at home

your friends tried to contact you but you went on ghost mode, ushijima and the vb team too but you didn’t have enough strenght to deal with anyone not even your own parents

yet one night after everyone had finsihed practice you decided to head to the gym, you had so much frustration that you wanted to get rid off and the only thing that could help you was to hit in a ball

so here you are, at 10:30 pm serving in your highschool’s gym with all the power you had

what you didn’t know is that someone was there, watching this whole time hitting them balls with all the power you had wondering if they should come and talk to you or not

saying he missed you be an understatement, he missed your touch, the sound of your voice, your silly fights with tendou over who ushijima loved the most, the way you would hold his hand with no warning, the way you came to his practices and his teammates would all want to catch your attention. he was craving you and he couldn’t do anything but blame himself on how he lacked as a boyfriend

“man up, wakatoshi,” he opened the door yet didn’t catch your attention as you were still serving your mind obviously somewhere else

“uhm, hello?” he clumsily tries to catch your attention, which he succeeded  in

you turn, kind of startled but lowkey relaxing at his sight. “hi,” looking at his face you realized how much you missed him but the fight you had was still replaying in your head. “i was leaving, i just need to clean the gym” you said shaking off your pianful thoughts

as you walked by him he held you wrist making you stop, “y/n, let’s talk it out... please” his face slowly turning around, your eyes meeting his

he was right, you couldn’t just ghost everyone for the rest of the year, you just nodded and looked away

still holding your hand he took you to sit on a bench, facing each other. both of you wondering what will come out of this conversation

“y/n, i miss you, i was a horrible boyfriend i should’ve noticed how bad you were doing and comfort you instead of being a total douchebag, it’s just that...” he stopped for a while, thinking of the right words to say. “i just want the best for you, and i should’ve known vb isn’t your dream but i know how much potential you have and i just want the best for you.”

you couldn’t help but soften and the bluntness of your boyfriend, you knew he was genuine

“i don’t want to loose you y/n, and i promise to do my best to be a better boyfriend. please accept my apology,” you couldn’t help but breakdown infront of him

that’s it, you reached your peak and here you were sobbing in your boyfriend’s arms who was rubbing your back, trying to comfort you

he sure was taken aback when he saw you crying like that, he had never seen you like that and he never dealt with this type of situation but somehow he knew you needed to let everything out

he kissed the top of your head, whispering things like “everything is gonna be fine”

“i just got so stressed out, volleyball, academics, relationships... and i wanted to be the best but i couldn’t handle this much pressure and i should’ve told you how i felt but i bottled up thinking i could handle it,” you managed to say between your sobs. “ i love you too and i don’t want to loose you toshi,” he hugged you tighter after this sentence

“it’s alright love, i should’ve been here for you that’s the point of being together, it’s to lift a certain weight on each other,” he cupped your face in his big hands, wiping your tears, “no more secrets now, we’re here for each other,” you nod and he gently presses his lips against yours

“i love you, and i am here for you, please stop crying i hate to see my s/o this way especially when i suck at comforting you,” he made you chuckle

you’ve never  seen this side of ushijima, you knew he was trying his best right now, but you were glad you saw it today; it proved that he really loved you and you felt happy to have him by your side

“i love you too, toshi,” you hugged him tight and he kissed your forehead

both of you feeling relieved to know that your relationship was strong enough and you’d be able to count on each other and go through anything by each other’s side