#i just want this post to not be a draft anymore 😭😭😭

[sentientstump]

old and new (it might've turned old as well two days ago) low res pictures

oh, forgive me, hylics and hylickers

[25th]

UMM HIIIIII i'm alive

[cheeseceli]

Skz meeting a pretty fan

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, just a tiny little bit of angst, headcanons

Description: their reaction to meeting a pretty fan during a fan meeting

Warnings: kind of love at first sight trope, delusional, some of them are dramatic, they are all idols, not proofread

A/n: the way it's been over a year that this has been in my drafts | daily click

Bang Chan

He was kinda of tired already so he was zoning out

When he sees you he is like "...oh"

He is so invested in your conversation

If you comment about the production behind the music he will be so happy

Genuinely loves when someone acknowledges his work so his eyes will shine and he will smile so hard while explaining everything to you

He is upset when you need to move on to the next member

Sees you laughing with the other members and he's like 🤨

Wonders what they did that managed to make you laugh that much

Lee Know

He would stare at you

You know when his mouth is open and you can see his eyes shining?

Yeah, that's him right now

You say hello and he would give you his nervous laugh before looking at you again with those stary eyes

I swear he is such a softie

Would listen to every single word that you say, you can tell he is paying so much attention

Autographs something for you and makes a funny drawing as well hoping you'd laugh

Side eyes the staff when they say the time is up

Even when you move to the next member and other fan is talking to him, he would still look at your direction sometimes and get so flustered if you catch him looking at you

Changbin

Starts small talk right away

Will 100% compliment you

You ask him an autograph and he wonders how bad would it be if he gave you his number instead

Like he knows he cannot do that

But maybe if he was sneaky enough...

Doesn't do it by the end but he low-key regrets it for the rest of his life

He will wake up one day after five years and be like "damn I should've given them my number"

And he will make that everyone's problem

The boys can't stand it anymore because they've heard enough about you by now 😭

Convinces himself that he will see you again one day

Hyunjin

He sees you before you see him, so he is panicking

Is looking at the line all the time wondering if you will want to talk to him

Asks han if his hair looks good before it's your turn to talk to him

No but fr, he can't take his eyes off you

When you start talking he is like 😯

You look and sound like an angel, he must be in heaven

Even after the fan meeting he can't stop thinking about you

If he's feeling bold enough, he will definitely flirt with you

Low-key forgot he was an idol and was ready to risk it all for you

Han

Might believe in love at first sight after your meeting

Compliment him once and he will get so shy

Like sir, weren't you the one flirting like two seconds ago🤨

Would feel so betrayed if he isn't your bias LMAO

He has like a minute and a half to convince you he's the best stray kids member and he WILL try that

And he hopes that someone will record his flirty antics and post it on tiktok just so he can find your socials

He will make all the boys stalk the internet to try to find you

"but you can't contact them even if you find their account, so what's the point?" idk bro but he wants to see you again somehow

Felix

SUCH A FLIRT

The moment he looks at you he is already trying to win your heart

Kinda forgot he was an idol pt.2

Except he didn't forget

He just doesn't care

He wants to flirt with you and that's precisely what he will do

Will even flirt through his autograph if he can

Uses any kind of excuse to make physical contact with you ✨

And side eyes the staff when they tell him it's time to move on

Like no it's not??

Seungmin

Actually pretty good at hiding his new crush??

The most normal one out here surprisingly lol

He will be able to cover it up as just "good mood" but let's be for real

It's because of you

Anyways

Will smile so much

If you compliment his smile (please do!) he will get shy but so so happy

Also steals glances when you go to the next member

He'll be talking to the next fan but ends up laughing because of something he heard you say to another one of the boys

The fan is like ?? but Seungmin is able to play it off

I.N

So dedicated to give you a good impression

If you tell him your favourite skz song is one of his solos (or that your favourite has that title because of his vocals) this man is in heaven

Forgot he was an idol pt.3 except he didn't forget

He just lowkey very lowkey didn't want to be an idol in that exact moment

Had it been on any normal occasion he would probably try to charm you over

But this was his job

He couldn't possibly get delulu over a fan 😭 although he was already midway to that

Ends up covering a song you said you thought would fit his voice

Sees the comments of the cover wondering each one of those were yours

Masterlist | you'll probably like: unrequited love

Reminder that this is all fiction, this does not represent the members in real life!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto | Images 1, 2 and 3

[bwabys-scenarios]

Vampire kurapika?? ITS BEEN ON MY MIND ALL DAY

Strange Girl(NSFW)

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

Vampire!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

A/N: This post has been in my drafts since October 😭

warnings: slight yandere behavior, Kurapika is possessive/protective over you, fingering, creampie, biting, Kurapika drinks your blood

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

In his few centuries of being a vampire, Kurapika had grown lonely. He hid himself away in the large manor that had been passed down in his family, only coming out to feed at night.

Although, on one of these nights, Kurapika’s life would change forever.

It was late October, perhaps even Halloween night. Kurapika had stopped keeping track of the exact date years ago. It didn’t really matter, he couldn’t feel the cold or the heat on his undead skin, so the changes in months and weather meant little to him.

He wasn’t really that hungry, but had decided to feed that night to get it over with. Honestly, the blonde tried not to feed all that often, preferring to stay in his manor and read to pass the time.

However, he heard the town nearby would be relatively quiet, considering there would be a huge party that all the humans would be attending. That meant he could easily pick off one of the stragglers in the dead of night, giving him an easy meal.

Kurapika roamed the streets, wearing a new coat from one of his latest victims and using the streetlights to read as he walked. It was a new book, some kind of romance novel. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the genre, honestly it just depressed him, but over his 300 years of life, the things he hadn’t read became smaller and smaller. He didn’t have the privilege of being picky anymore.

It was around midnight when he sensed someone else on the path ahead of him. He glanced up from his book for a split second, long enough to see who it was, but not long enough to cause suspicion.

Already, he was feeling bad. It was a girl, a pretty one at that. She was strolling down the street, humming along to something she was listening to in her headphones. The girl didn’t seem to notice him until she got closer, glancing up to give him a friendly smile, pulling off one of her headphones.

“Hi!”

Kurapika gave a quick nod in response before looking away. He didn’t like talking too much with his victims before he drained them, it just left a bigger impact on him to talk to his food before he ate it. “Did you not get invited to the party either? I thought I was the only one!”

He attempted to ignore her, waiting for her to get close enough to strike. “Oh, is that a romance novel? I haven’t seen it before!”

‘This human sure likes to talk.’ Kurapika thought, his scarlet eyes peeking over his book to get a better glimpse at her.

She was closer now, only a few feet away. Now he could tell she was rather plump, and incredibly cute. The woman was wearing a thin silk nightgown with a cardigan thrown over it to keep somewhat warm.

“… why are you dressed like that? Its the end of October, it’s not exactly warm out.”

Although Kurapika couldn’t feel the cold, but he could tell she could. She hummed, stopping 2 feet in front of him. “Oh, sometimes I have trouble sleeping, so I walk around and listen outside and listen to music until I get tired.”

The vampire sighed, looking her over. “You shouldn’t do that. The people say there’s a serial killer on the loose.”

‘That serial killer being me,’ he thought, his eyes scanning her figure.

She tilted her head, seeming to take in his appearance before speaking again. “Hmm? I’m pretty tough I’ll have you know! Look!”

She pulls out a little pocket knife, and it was almost amusing how small and useless it looked. “I’m armed!”

Kurapika looked at this girl standing before him and smiling, and he knew he was going to be leaving hungry tonight. “I see… well, I’ll be off then.”

The woman blinked, quickly turning to grab his hand. “Hey wait!”

Kurapika froze, the soft, warm feeling of her touch sinking into his hand. He almost shuddered. The only ways for vampires to experience warmth was through human touch or blood, so it almost a euphoric feeling to be touched. “What?”

He glanced back at her, giving her a slightly surprised look when he saw she was pouting. “You didn’t tell me why you’re out here all by yourself. It’s not safe for you either!”

Was this little human… worried for him? He wanted to laugh, but instead, Kurapika decided to indulge her. “I guess I’m on a walk as well.”

She seemed unimpressed with his answer, but didn’t push further. “Ah…”

He looked down, noticing she still hadn’t let go of his hand. When she caught him looking, she blushed and pulled her hand away. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

She twiddled her thumbs, glancing up at him. Kurapika found this human somewhat… cute.

“One more thing!”

She smiled shyly at him. “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around town!”

Kurapika thought for a moment. He could lie to her, but he considered lying a sin. It was a little hypocritical of him, considering he killed people to eat.

“It’s Kurapika.”

She smiled, offering her hand to him. “Well I’m (Name), nice to meet you Kurapika!”

And like that, they were exchanging phone numbers. It took him a moment once he was alone to process that she had snatched his phone, gotten his number, and given him hers. He was too distracted by the kissy mark now on his cheek… and the sweet smile she gave him when she left.

This human had caught his interest… and he wouldn’t be letting her slip through his fingers.

———————

(Name) ended up being quite interesting, keeping him entertained. At first, that all she was, entertainment for him until he got bored of her presence.

But after spending yet another night as her personal body guard while she went out for drinks… he felt the creeping feeling of protectiveness beginning to evade his mind. He didn’t like the way the other humans spoke with her, how they touched her with little regards to who she may belong to.

Lately, when she requested he’d join her, Kurapika preferred spending nights in at her home. She enjoyed this as well, calling their meetings “sleepovers”. He hated how he found that cute…

“Kurapika, do you want to sleep on the couch or my bed? I promise I don’t mind sleeping on the couch-“

He stopped her by raising an eyebrow. “I would not kick you out of your bed, (Name).”

She pouted a little, something that always softened Kurapika’s cold exterior. “Do you have any other ideas, my dear?”

(Name) thought for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows. “Hmm… oh!”

Kurapika blinked when she grabbed him by the shoulder. “We can share my bed! Ah, that’s the best way to have a sleepover, isn’t it?”

Oh, his naive and innocent little friend. Kurapika sighed, rubbing his temple. “Dear, I am a grown man and you are a defenseless woman. Are you sure?”

(Name) tilted her head, looking up at him. “Yeah… because you would never hurt me, right?”

If his cold, undead heart could race, it would. He melted, cooing softly as he caressed her chubby cheek. “Of course not, my dear. I would never hurt you, never.”

She giggled, tugging him towards her bedroom. “Then let’s get ready for bed!”

——————

It was hard for Kurapika to concentrate on sleeping when (Name) was curled up next to him, clinging to his side. Did this woman know what personal space was?

He sighed, reaching out to gently caress her cheek. She was so soft, so warm… and she smelled like home. Kurapika had never felt more at ease in his long, miserable life. He only was able to relax and truly be himself when he was with her.

She slept so soundly, even with him, a man eating monster in her bed. Kurapika had told her of his true nature a month into their friendship… yet she stayed with him.

“You’re beautiful, you know…”

Kurapika leaned forward, giving her forehead a kiss. “I love you…”

The words just came out… and he found himself blushing at the fact. He… loved her? Was that what these feelings were?

That explained how protective and possessive he was over her, how all he wanted to do was keep her tucked away in his embrace for all eternity. His lips found hers, and he gave her a gentle kiss as she slept.

When he pulled away, his eyes flashed scarlet. Kurapika wanted her more than anything, and for once his connection to this human had nothing to do with his need to feed.

Kurapika… he genuinely loved her. Her kindness, gentle nature, and understanding mind all made him fall head over heels. No human had ever accepted him for who he was, but she had with ease.

As he gently caressed her cheek, Kurapika vowed to love her for the rest of his life, to keep her safe and happy.

And as the sun rose, he made sure the blinds protected him from its harmful rays. Kurapika didn’t want to hide in his coffin, he wanted to spend more time with her. Now that he knew what he was feeling, all he wanted was to soak in her presence for as long as he could.

“Good morning, my darling.”

She rubbed her eyes, still waking up when she felt his hand on her cheek. “Mmph… Kurapika? Good morning…”

He was still in awe at the fact she didn’t flinch at his touch. “You don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

Kurapika caressed her cheek with his thumb, his scarlet eyes soft with affection. “This. Me touching you…”

She blushed a bit, looking away. “I don’t mind at all… don’t you know how precious to me you are?”

“Precious? To you?”

Kurapika leaned in closer, his undead heart soaring. “You mean it, (Name)? Truly?”

Her cheeks continued to get warmer. “Of course… why would I let you stay with me if I didn’t care for you? I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t just share my bed with anyone.”

It was Kurapika’s turn to blush this time. A vampire as old as him getting flustered over one human? It was embarrassing.

But he couldn’t help but swoon when she touched her forehead to his. “I love you too, you know.”

His face flushed an even brighter red. “Y-you heard that?”

“Felt it too.”

She smiled, pointing to her lips. Kurapika whined in embarrassment, hiding his face. He felt like a teenage boy again, embarrassed by his first crush.

“Mmph…”

His blonde eyelashes fluttered when she captured his lips with hers. Kurapika raised his hands to cup her chubby cheeks, lightly squishing them as he melted into the kiss.

She tasted so sweet, her tongue more delectable than any blood he’d ever drank. He felt almost drunk off of her affection, his eyes half lidded as he pulled her into his lap.

It wasn’t until she whimpered into the kiss and shifted in his lap that he realized he was hard. He felt humiliated, popping a boner from a heated kiss.

“Want you…”

His teeth grazed against her neck as he whimpered out his needs. “Need you, (Name)… so warm, wanna…”

Kurapika slipped his fingers into your panties right as his fangs sunk into your neck. You hissed in pain at first, but the feeling of him stroking your needy cunt was enough to have you mewling out his name. “K-Kurapika!”

He’d never pleasured a woman before, but she wouldn’t have guessed by the way he was touching her as if he had done it a hundred times already. His fingers sank into her just as he retracted his fangs, lapping at the small pinpricks in her neck.

“So pretty, like an angel…”

He pulled down his pajama pants just enough for his cock to spring forward, rubbing it against her needy pussy. “Warm… so warm, all wet for me…”

He pulled her down onto his cock, capturing your lips in a kiss. She could taste the metallic taste of her blood on his tongue, his hands moving her up and down on his cock.

“Squeezing me…” he said with a grunt, feeling her clench around him as she came.

“C-cumming, Pika!”

He kept moving her, his mouth moving to her pretty breast. His tongue flicked against her nipple, quickly taking the (color) bud into his mouth to suck on.

Kurapika left hickeys all over her, occasionally sinking his gangs into her skin. As he continued to fuck into her pretty cunt, his possessive feelings continued to grow until he was growling into her ear.

“Mine, all mine. No one touches you but me.”

He was almost feral, his teeth bared as he came inside of her. She was a panting mess, whimpering as his cum painted her walls.

After giving her a creampie, Kurapika calmed down a bit, feeling like he had claimed her in some way. He let out a soft purr, rubbing his face against her neck and licking the bite marks he had left there.

“Kurapika…”

She clung to him, letting him clean her up and apply small bandages to the bite marks he left. He felt slightly guilty, but that guilt was outweighed by the immense satisfaction he felt so see his beloved covered in his love bites.

“Mine, all mine…” he purred, curling up with her in bed. The two spent the rest of the day snuggling, never leaving each other’s side.

Kurapika had found a reason to keep living his eternal life, and would never let her go. His (Name), his love.

His everything.

[flemingology]

Hi !! :D Following your most recent post I wanted to request smth for Jessie . Basically reader is not used to celebrating Christmas since she had problems with her family growing up which lead to them never celebrating it in their household . Cue to now where Jessie and her are spending their first ever Christmas as a couple , Jessie invites reader to her parents’s for Christmas and it becomes the first time reader gets to celebrate it ? Just really fluffy mostly (idk if what I wrote made sense English is not my first language 😭)

home for the holidays ─ jessie fleming x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: jessie and her family are determined to change your mind about celebrating christmas

warnings: talks of a poor youth, poverty, financial issues, dysfunctional family dynamic but also lots of fluff, i promise

wc: 4.6k

a/n: first part of the christmas series! combined a couple drafts of jessie taking reader to celebrate christmas with her family. hope you enjoy!

Growing up, you missed out on a lot of things due to the precarious financial situation of your family. Your dad had incurred a work-related accident when you were three years old, leaving him bedridden with permanent spinal cord injury. Your mum worked 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, trying her hardest to muster up the money to take care of both you and your father. Nonetheless, your family struggled. You never experienced any of the traditional things that most kids did; no birthday parties, no holidays, no trips to the zoo or an amusement park, and certainly not Christmas. You dreaded the Christmas holidays. It confronted you with the dysfunctional family dynamic, never having the money to buy presents, let alone decorate the house.

The longer you found yourself in the terrible conditions in which you grew up, the more you promised yourself that you would try and break that vicious cycle. From the age of 16, you started looking for a job. You struggled, a lot of employers judging you based off your background, but eventually you managed to get a job at a local supermarket on the corner of your street. When you weren't at school, you were working, and when you weren't working, you were helping your mum with household chores. You didn't have any free time at all, but you kept reassuring yourself it would all be worth it in the end.

By the age of 20, you finally felt like you could look forward a little. You had finished school at 18, and now had been working full-time in the supermarket for 2 years, still helping your mum out with the household and even giving a big part of your income to her to help out with dad's care. Besides that, you opened a savings account for yourself, where you put the remainder of the money you made every month. You felt like you were slowly but surely creeping out the vicious cycle, paving the way for yourself to have a more positive looking future. You didn't have to take things day-to-day anymore. You started doing some charity work for OHOH: Oregon's Harbor of Hope – an institution caring for the homeless people of Portland. When you weren't on the clock in the supermarket, you went out there to help the volunteers. OHOH worked on giving homeless people a safe space, a community, and the essential services they needed to stabilize their lives.

You stumbled across the organization while browsing on the internet on a library computer, and you'd felt the fire in your belly to help them. You wrote down the address on your hand and went to check it out the following day, opening up about your past experiences and about how you thought you could aid OHOH. They took you in, welcomed you with open arms, and you had been one of the main volunteers there for the past three years now. But if anyone had told you that you'd meet the love of your life at one of their fundraisers, you would've never believed them.

OHOH organized fundraisers on every first Friday of the month. They were open for everyone who wanted to come check out the institution and help out – whether that be financially or actual engagement. That's where you met Jessie. Jessie, who also stumbled across the organization while scrolling through her socials. Jessie, who was so eager to help the local community. Jessie, who you bonded with the first time she came around and then she just kept coming. Every first Friday of the month she'd be there, claiming she was just there to help out, but she knew deep down that there was more to it than just helpfulness.

Jessie and you got talking on her first time visiting OHOH. You took it upon yourself to show her around the place, explaining her the ins and outs about the services you offered, Jessie listening to you with care and intent. Before you even realized, you started opening up about yourself to the Canadian. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you and you felt at ease, Jessie not judging you for any of the things you opened up to her about. It was late into the night when you two wrapped up, the only two people still hanging around at the fundraiser. You had an early shift in the supermarket the next day and you already knew you'd curse yourself for staying up late today. Jessie lingered a little while you locked up, and you caught yourself stealing a glance of her every now and then. You said your goodbyes then, parting ways with Jessie's promise that she'd be back next month.

And she was. And then again the next month. Jessie and you had grown closer over her past couple visits. You felt something warm and fuzzy coursing through your body every time you talked to her, a foreign feeling you'd never experienced before and you didn't really know what to do with it. Things with Jessie were easy. It felt like a fresh start, like a blank page ready to be written on. Jessie, on the other hand, cursed herself every time she left the fundraiser without asking for your number. She was in her head about it, thinking she might just be reading in to things, but she couldn't deny her feelings for you anymore. Not when your touch seemed to linger a little bit too long after she pulled you into a hug, not when you memorized the way she drinks her coffee after only making her one once, not when the way you said her name would make her stomach flutter in ways she'd never felt before. So she promised herself that next month, she'd ask for your number. And if you then didn't seem to be on the same page, well then at least she tried.

When next month came around, Jessie found herself trying to make an extra effort to look good on Friday. She usually wasn't really one to be very bothered about her outfits, but she caught herself standing in front of her wardrobe a little too long for what was just a fundraiser she'd been at multiple times. After a quick shower and freshening up a little, she made her way over to Portland's city centre, expertly navigating the roads to a place she'd visited frequently enough to know the way by heart. She noticed you from a little while away, talking to some of the other volunteers by the entrance. You spotted her too, giving her a small wave from across the street, which Jessie readily reciprocated. She scolded herself over how excited she got over the little gesture. She quickly made her way over, greeting everyone before eventually finding herself opposite you. You engulfed her in a hug, the embrace a welcome barrier against the cold Portland wind that nipped at Jessie's skin. "Hey. Thank you for coming," you mumbled against her, slowly pulling back from the hug. "Always."

You went through the motions, as you did every month. Talked to newcomers, caught up with old visitors, gave tours and explanations on what you did at OHOH. Jessie busied herself, talking to people here and there, sharing experiences with the people of Oregon. It was a welcome change for her, being somewhere where nobody really knew who she was. To be taken as herself, as Jess, not so much as Jessie Fleming – the Thorns and Canada midfielder that everyone seemed so eager to get a piece of. That's one of the main reasons she was so fond of you. You didn't know who she was. You hadn't found out yet either, or you were just very good at hiding it. It never came up in conversations, either. The only time Jessie spoke about football was the first time you met each other; when you asked her what her hobbies were. Football. A hobby. If only you knew. Jessie realized that she'd have to tell you at some point, but she liked the calm for now. The comfort.

As the night furthered, you two started gravitating towards each other more and more. From fleeting glances whenever you passed her with a new group to guide around the building, to quick conversations in between catch-ups, to full on spending the last hour of the fundraiser tucked away in a slightly more quiet corner, talking to each other like it was the easiest thing in the world. Neither you could deny the feelings that were starting to build inside you anymore. The fuzzy feeling remained, and now your skin felt tingly whenever Jessie's touch was on you. It excited you, really, but it made you oh so nervous. Scared, even. You'd never felt this way, not in your 24 years of doing life had you ever felt like this about someone. You didn't know what love was. Your mum loved your dad, you could see that, but that got lost in the dysfunctional dynamic of the family. Platonic love isn't something you experienced either throughout your youth, your peers had never been fond of you. You'd gotten used to that, grown accustomed to being alone. Not lonely, though, you didn't mind being alone. But this was different. Jessie made you feel all kinds of things and she made being alone feel like the worst thing in the world. You wanted to be around her, be alongside her, be with her.

You'd noticed a nervous touch in Jessie's behaviors that night. A little more restless than usual, a little more jumpy, much less controlled. Controlled. Jessie was always controlled. Although, that's what she thought. She liked being in control. In control over her thoughts, emotions, her behaviors. But the way she was fiddling with her fingers, the way she kept tapping her feet and how she seemed to stumble over her otherwise so composed words, you knew something was off.

"Are you okay, Jess?" You'd just locked up the building as the fundraiser came to an end, another successful evening wrapped up. You'd been building up the courage to ask her the question all evening, much as she had been trying to build up the courage to ask for your number – unbeknownst to you. You glanced at her over your shoulder when she didn't give you a reply. "Jess?" You raised your voice a little bit, seemingly startling the freckled Canadian. "Hmm?" She cocked her eyebrows, a nervous glint in her eye. You chuckled and made your way over to her, stalling opposite of her. "I asked whether you were okay. You've been a little... off tonight, or something? I don't know. I just wanna make sure, you know." You carefully approached the subject, not knowing if you were just overthinking things or if something was genuinely up.

Jessie cleared her throat. "Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I don't know. Bit off, I guess," she said distractedly. "You sure?" You decided to pry a little, inching closer towards her, your fingers nearly brushing hers. She chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she met her gaze again. "Yeah, it's fine, I promise. I think- I've just been in my head a bit this evening, I'm fine." A frown painted your face as you listened to her words. "Mhm, okay. You wanna tell me what it is? I hope I didn't do anything to upset you." You wracked your brain trying to think of a moment in the past couple hours that could've possibly upset the Canadian, but you blanked.

"No, no, God, no, it's not that. Please, don't worry about that," Jessie chuckled before continuing, "it's not you. It's me, I swear." You cocked an eyebrow at her. "'It's not you, it's me'? Really, Jess?" You couldn't contain the uneasy feeling that started to grow inside you as the conversation progressed. It seemed like Jessie didn't want to talk about what was bothering her, but she gave you just enough of an insight to keep you on your toes – it was almost annoying you. "No, fuck- I'm making it worse." Jessie rubbed her hands down her face and lifted a hand when she saw you were going to speak again, ordering you to wait. "I've been in my head tonight, yeah. But it's nothing to do with you. Well- in fact, maybe it does. But, not like that. You know? I'm just-" "Jessie Fleming, what are you trying to say? Get it over with."

Jessie took in a deep breath, trying to compose herself, before she opened her eyes and a waterfall of words left her mouth. "Wouldyoumaybewanttogivemeyournumber?" You slightly tilted your head and gave her an amused look, cocking an eyebrow when her gaze fluttered down. "Jess, I couldn't make much of that, I'm sorry." You couldn't help the chuckle that crept up your throat, you'd never seen the Canadian this unsure. "Would you maybe want to give me your number?" Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you took a moment to process her words, but Jessie assumed your silence was your way of denying her request. "I mean, you don't have to, really, I was just asking because- uhm, because, you know, things for the fundraisers and stuff. It's okay, honestly-" You cut Jessie off by a placing a hand on her chest and searching for her gaze that was flicking everywhere but to your face. "Hey, take it easy. Take a breath, okay?" Jessie's eyes were filled with concern but she did as you asked, feeling her chest expanding and deflating a couple times underneath your hand. "I'd love to give you my number."

Safe to say that you and Jessie struggled to find your way with one another. You, not used to romantic love, or love in general, you struggled with accepting Jessie's affection. But in the end, you made compromises, communicated with one another about what worked and what didn't, and you had been in a relationship that you could only describe as perfect for the past 8 months. Jessie and you complimented each other. You fit together. She got you up when you were down, and vice versa. You learned very quickly about her career in football, something that took you completely by surprise when she told you. You adjusted, you compromised, and it worked. You were happier than you'd ever been.

Your first big argument with your Jessie didn't come until December, near Christmas time. Jessie insisted that you came with her back to Canada to celebrate the holidays with her and her family, but you insisted on staying home. You didn't want to be a bother, and as much as your girlfriend had tried to convince you that you wouldn't be, the thought remained firmly planted at the forefront of your mind – whatever Jessie did, not helping to get rid of it.

You'd told Jessie about your upbringing. How it hadn't been the best, how you'd missed out on all the traditional things. You never went into much detail, not wanting to relive your past, preferably living in the now, but Jessie knew. That's the reason why she always treaded very carefully when approaching the subject, not wanting to pry or ask too much leading to you closing yourself off. It wasn't until after one particularly rough night with your girlfriend – the both of you spending the best part of 30 minutes fighting about the whole ordeal – that you thought it was best to just get it over with and tell Jessie why you were so reluctant.

You told her about how you spent most Christmases at home. No Christmas tree or Christmas lights because they would cost too much, no Christmas films because renting one was way out of the budget, never any fancy meals as the holidays were just another period of trying to survive off stale bread and canned vegetables. You told her how you'd felt jealous in school, embarrassed even, your peers gushing about the presents they received or the family dinners they went to, while you had nothing to bring to the conversation. Not that they wanted you to be part of it, anyway. You explained to Jessie that you just didn't know how to celebrate Christmas, and that you didn't want to be a burden to your family and to herself. You didn't know how to replace those feelings of resentment with new ones, forever feeling guilty at how much better you had it now than then.

The Canadian assured you that she understood, but she also saw an opportunity that she was ready to take with both hands. She tried convincing you one more time to come with her, how she would make sure to take care of you and be gentle with introducing you to all the Christmas traditions. That you didn't have to worry about her family, who always seemed to think 'the more, the merrier' when it came to these types of days. You'd met them before, twice, when you accompanied Jessie on her occasional weekend going back home, and you knew they liked you. It wasn't that that you were worried about, it was more so that you just didn't know how to act during these types of days. What do you do? Say? What do you wear? Should you get something nice or do they prefer you to just wear something cozy? How do you behave? What presents do they want? Many questions and so very little answers.

Eventually, after some more raised voices and a lot of frustration, you agreed. Agreed on accompanying your girlfriend to Canada, the prospect of being with her and her family much more enticing than having to be on your own in your shared apartment for 3 weeks. When you finally, albeit reluctantly agreed, Jessie couldn't wipe the grin off her face even if she tried. She gently cupped your cheeks and leant her forehead against yours, pressing a soft kiss against your nose. "I promise it'll be good. It'll be so much fun and we'll take everything slow. Your pace, hmm?" She pressed a couple more kisses against your nose, before leaning down and pressing a gentle, fleeting kiss against your lips. You exhaled deeply and closed your eyes, leaning your forehead on her shoulder. "Yeah," you sighed, "yeah. We'll be fine. It'll be fun." Jessie sensed the hesitance in your voice, and promised herself then and there that she'd do everything in her power to make the holidays a fun time for you.

Traveling to Ontario wasn't that bad. No delays, no abundance of traffic, no problems with baggage, your 3-week getaway had gotten off to a perfect start and it did wonders to relieve you from some of the stress you'd been dealing with the past couple weeks leading up to this trip. Jessie and you had hired a car to drive yourself from the airport to her childhood home. You could've taken a cab, but figured it would be easy to have an extra car at home for if you wanted to go somewhere, just the two of you. You'd been in London before, but Jessie was adamant to reintroduce you to all the spots she'd shown you around before, insisting that it would be a completely different vibe now that everything was decorated for Christmas. The drive went smoothly, your plane arriving a little past 8 meaning you just about dodged the flurry of evening traffic. Your eyelids were growing heavy in the car, exhausted from the long plane journey, and with the low hum of the engine and Jessie's fingers tracing soft patterns on your thigh, it didn't take long for you to doze off against the car window.

You didn't wake until a few hours later, when Jessie put a hand on your shoulder and lightly shook you to try and wake you from what had seemed quite a deep sleep. "We're here baby, wake up," she whispered, putting a couple strands of hair behind your ear that had fallen across your face. You grunted, eyes still closed but you stretched, sitting up straight and leaning into Jessie's touch. "Tired," you grumbled. "I know, baby, it's late. We can sleep when we're inside, yeah?" You opened your eyes and looked at your girlfriend, who was sporting a small smile on her face. "You're cute when you snore." She gave you a small wink and pressed a kiss on your nose, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning across you to open your door. Any protests that were forming in your head about how you were not a snorer died in your throat as you felt the cold wind coming from outside nipping at your skin. You hurried outside, any propositions to help your girlfriend with the bags waved away as she carried all three of them comfortably to the front door. You rang the bell, not allowed any time to complain about the weather as it took no longer than a couple seconds for Jessie's mum to open the door.

Michaele sported a beaming smile and her eyes were brimming with unshed tears as she pulled her daughter in a heartfelt embrace. It'd been a while since they saw each other. Jessie opted to stay in Portland after her domestic season had ended, the environment motivating her more to stick to her training plans than if she'd gone home early. She also still had a couple Canada camps to attend to, so she needed to stay on top of her fitness if she wanted to perform. It'd been close to 4 months since she'd been home, and you could tell that it had been weighing on her. Jessie had always been very family-oriented, so her excitement to come back home for the holidays was second to none. Especially since she managed to convince you to come too.

Ever since Jessie introduced you to her family, they took you in as part of the family. Her parents never questioned anything, loved you as one of their own and you managed to bond quite well with Tristan and Elysse. You truly felt at home with the Fleming's, a feeling you never managed to experience within your own family. It lead to a lot of uncomfortable feelings at first, when you realized that you felt more comfortable with strangers than with your own mother, but Jessie reassured you that it was okay. That it was okay to feel those things, to be upset, but that you'd never have to worry about experiencing such love ever again. She'd make sure of that.

Safe to say that Jessie kept her promise of making sure the holidays went by smoothly for the two of you. Your first week in Ontario went by quickly, the two of you re-exploring the city in which Jessie had grown up so many years ago. You visited coffee spots, strolled around her elementary school, went for dinner at her favorite burger restaurant and spent a lot of time with her family. Game nights, movie nights, going out for walks together, you name it. Jessie's family dynamic was so different to what yours had been, it was a breath of fresh air. It was healthy.

Your getaway went by quick and before you knew it, you were reaching the final week of the year. You woke up on Christmas morning with a weird feeling in your stomach. You knew everything would be fine – Jessie assured you it would, but you couldn't help the nerves that were settling in your stomach the moment you stirred from your sleep. You'd bought everyone a present, it wasn't much, but you hoped it would suffice. You didn't want to come empty handed, especially not when Jessie's family let you stay with them for the best part of a month. The feeling of being an intruder in their house had long faded, a heartfelt conversation with Jessie's mother aiding to you feeling at home within their house.

Your girlfriend must've sensed your restlessness that morning and woke up not long after you, pulling you down in a warm cuddle before agreeing to get up together. You made your way downstairs and were pleasantly surprised to see you were the first ones up. Jessie made you and her a steaming warm mug of coffee, before cuddling up with each other on the couch. You looked out across the garden, snow wrapping the town in an icy blanket of cold.

"You wanna make cookies?" Jessie's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "Cookies?" You weren't opposed to the idea. It was nice to be alone for a moment, doing something together – just the two of you. "Yeah, cookies. I can't say it's a tradition, we don't do it every year, but sometimes my mum makes these Christmas cookies. Her own recipe. They're really good." Jessie raked her fingers through your long strands of hair from her position behind you on the couch, your back resting tight against her front. You craned your neck towards her. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

You and Jessie got to work in the kitchen, combining your forces to try and make sure the cookies would be as good as when Michaele would make them. You followed the recipe step by step, measuring and mixing the ingredients that would soon come together in small, bite-size, Christmas sugar cookies. It made you feel at ease, to have a little moment with just Jessie, before the prospect of what would surely be a busy day. Just the two of you, cuddling up to each other in the kitchen while making something that reminded Jessie of her childhood. It felt good, it felt right, it felt like home. A minute or 20 later, you put the cookies in the oven. 18 of them, 3 each.

Elysse and Tristan had already made their way downstairs, with Jessie's parents following suit only a couple minutes later. You all made some small talk, Jessie now also providing coffee for the rest of her family members. Before long, you all gathered in the living room where the presents would be given out.

"We've got the stockings first, as always," Michaele announced. She opened a bag that was sitting near the edge of the sofa and started giving them round, everyone receiving a stocking with the letter of their first name. What you didn't expect, though, was you to get one yourself. So when everyone had gotten their stocking and Michaele reached back into the bag to get one for you, it was hard to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat. Jessie noticed this, placing a comforting hand on the small of your back as you thanked and hugged her mom. You'd never felt more loved, more part of something than in that moment. You were part of their family, part of their home and everyone wanted to make sure you knew that.

The rest of the day went by so much better than you could've imagined. The Christmas cookies turned out perfect, some more family members came over for lunch, you went out for an afternoon stroll and then you all watched a Christmas movie on the sofa together late at night. You were feeling apprehensive about many things before you both took off to Oregon, but it's safe to say that Jessie kept her promise of trying to turn Christmas into something joyous for you.

Ever since that year, you hadn't missed a holiday season with the Flemings ever again. And you wouldn't want to have it differently anyway. Because after all, they were your family.

[bangchansslut6]

[11 : 32]

Chan's been very busy lately. But not with what you think. He's not staying up till 5am working oh no. He's staying up till 5am watching porn videos of men completely suffocate by their partners thighs. Chan realizes that this..this is what gets him going.

Your in the kitchen coming up some ramen for yourself since sitting on the couch has been making you hungry. An adorable kitty apron on as you wait for the ramen water to warm up. You don't hear Chans heavy footsteps enter the kitchen you only notice him when he hugs your waist tightly from behind.

"Hi baby.." He says quietly whispering in your ear. His hot breath fanning against it. You fail to notice the bulge pressing against your thigh..

"Hi Channie!" You awnser looking back at him kissing his cheek only then do you realize the bulge pressing against you as he grinds his hips into you.

"Hm. Need you baby..need you so bad.." He whisperes plush lips kissing down your neck to your shoulder.

"C-Chan baby I'm cooking-" You try to say but slowly your panties are turning damp. "Cooking can wait please I need you so fucking bad.." Chan mumbled his mouth still working on your shoulder.

This is how you ended up in this situation. Chan was laying on your guys shared bed. Your plush thighs caging in his face. How many times have you came already? It doesn't matter because Chan is still hungry.

"Another one baby I wanna drown in it.." Chan mumbled tounge already lapping up on your sensitive folds.

"C-Chan ah! I-I seriously can't anymore..i-i can't feel my legs!" You whine and whimper but still grind against his tounge and beautiful nose.

"F'me..hold on for me" He mumbled eyes closed completely pussydrunk. His plush lips wrap around your clit and harshly start to suck making your back arch and thighs tighten around Chans head even more.

"C-Chan I'm gonna cum..o-oh please Chan..i-i can't anymore-" Once again you can't finish before your gushing around him.

You think it's over panting as you calm down..suddenly two veiny hands are gripping your thighs making you grind.

"C-Chan!" You whimper eyes closing.

"I told you. I want to drown in it"

Authors note - I'm posting this absolute crap rn because I just CANT think of anything! I've had this in the drafts for a bit so please enjoy! Even though it's REALLY BAD😭

[wand3rlustm3]

can you do best friend txt x reader confessing love for each other with a bunch of tooth rotting fluff/smut 🙏🙏🙏 (sorry if this isn’t very detailed i’m very tired 😭) love your work btw 🫶🫶🫶

Writer's Note: Thank you so so much, anonnie <333 I love you and appreciate your kind words very, very much. I'm so sorry for my late response, I actually saved this in my drafts a long time ago and forgot to post it. I am sorry if this isn't what you asked for, if you want me to change it I will happily do so, also I will upload part 2 soon! :)

Warnings: angst :( SORRY, fluff, smut :3

CONFESSIONS OF AN ANGEL Pt 1.

Soobin

It seemed like these days you couldn't get through to him no matter what, It just didn't make sense. Why was he actively going out of his way to avoid you? You missed him, you missed his presence, you missed every ounce of him because being with him became a habit. It was to the point where your other friends kept asking you where he is, and you were tired of answering with the same, "he seems like he got busy"—a blatant lie to keep others assuming that your best friend is not even your friend anymore.

Soobin seemed to find any and every excuse, but it wasn't because he hated you. It was because of the very opposite, he knew that if he was around you for any longer, he simply couldn't take it. He'd have to confess to you that his feelings are much deeper than the feelings a person should feel toward their best friend, and he didn't want to ruin what he already had with you. In that fear, he'd coop up in his apartment and scratch his head at the many questions dabbling in his head. What if you didn't love him back? What if you'd be disgusted at his advances and find him creepy? What if— just too many "what ifs".

So at this point, you had to take matters into your own hands and angrily drag yourself to the doorstep of his apartment demanding an explanation. You were not letting him off so easily, there was no way that you'd let someone like him go without an explanation. So logically, you knock on the door multiple times, but since he doesn't open it, you speak through the door.

"Soobin, open the door. I need to talk to you right now. I don't know what's happened between us but you need to explain to me if I did anything wrong since the past two weeks you've been ignoring me. You haven't responded to a single message I've sent you, you haven't even been taking care of our cute little digital pet, you haven't even reached out once or at least told me what happened. Not only am I worried about you, but I'm scared that I'll lose you..." you spoke with a strong tone, but your voice cracked at the end and Soobin could just tell that you were going to cry.

"Y/n—please, go home." Soobin attempted to respond in a monotone voice, but you heard his voice shake as well.

Hot tears begin to roll down your face at his response. "Am I that terrible—? A- am I that terrible that you won't even say goodbye?" You stutter and speak through your light sob.

In that moment, Soobin can't control himself anymore. He pulls the door open as fast as he can and he pulls you into the tightest embrace. His strong arms wrap around you almost as if you'd slip away any moment, and he only lets go of you to put a hand over your chin to tilt your face upwards to him. "Y/n, it's actually the complete opposite. I'm so sorry, I'm an absolute idiot, aren't I? I didn't avoid you because I hated you, I've been avoiding you because—well, because I love you more than a best friend, I want to spend the rest of my life with you but I was scared that I'd lose everything I already had with you. So please, just....don't leave me y/n." His voice was shaking and there were tears rolling down his face.

You gently hit him in the chest and cry into the nook of his shoulder. There could be no better situation for you than for him to be in love with you, someone as perfect as him and kind could only be seen in fictional settings.

You speak as you sniffle, "Soobin, I love you too."

So the next thing you feel is his large hands gently cupping your cheeks as he leans down into you for a kiss. It's salty and sweet because of the tears that you taste on him, and you don't let go. It's almost as if your lips were made to mold together, as if your entire life—this is where you were supposed to end up, in his arms.

"I need to make you mine, please y/n?" Soobin breathed out as the bulge in his jeans became more evident as he grinded against you. His sexual frustration had been evident from his feelings being pent up for so long.

"Please take me, Soobin. I've been yours all along." You softly smile at him as you peer up at him. He makes you wrap your legs around his waist as he pushes you to the nearest wall, kissing down your neck as he deftly removes each piece of clothing of yours. He gently puts you on the ground only as he removes the last piece of clothing he has, until you're wrapped around his waist once again.

"You're soaking wet for me, y/n. A- ahhh, feels like—fuuuuck....feels like you were made for me." Soobin moans out as he dives his cock into you.

"Nnghhhh...soob please— I'm so close..."

"I'm—I am close as well...Cum with me y/n. Please baby, please do it for me. I love you, I love you so much, can't mmmh- can't live without you y/n..." Soobin almost begs you as he holds you so tight.

You're unable to register when it happened, but all you could see was white as you came all over his cock. His cum dripped out of you and down his cock as he was still inside. The warm spurts of his cum filling you up as his hips stutter and buck into you.

"You know that I can't live without you either, Soobin." You say as you kiss him once again.

Yeonjun

You had always known that your best friend was popular with girls since whenever you'd go around with him, you'd notice the nasty stares the girls would give you even more than usual.

There was an abundance of whispers that were intentionally loud enough for you to hear implying that you weren't good enough to be with him, and even more who would silently judge you. But, you'd brush it off since you were his best friend anyways. It had absolutely nothing to do with you, and could bother you less, but you had Yeonjun by your side and there's nothing more you could ask for. He was available at every call and beckon of yours, and neither of you questioned it. It was almost like it came to him naturally.

What you'd not understand is why so many people thought you were a couple when you were simply best friends. If only you'd have noticed the glimmer in his eyes and how they'd soften each time they landed upon your beautiful features. How his fingers would wrap around yours tighter when you'd walk across the crosswalk, or simply the change in his expression when he'd notice other men staring at you. Yeonjun realized that you're absolutely clueless to his feelings, despite thinking that he made it obvious.

Regardless, when you go to your favorite café to pick up your order, you suggest a way to pass the time quicker.

"Junnie, Let's have a staring contest! Winner gets to bake something and loser gets to wash the dishes, okay?" You speak in an excited tone, he wishes to express how he loves when your voice goes up a few decibels simply because of how excited you are, but he sticks with giving you a pretty smile of adoration instead.

"Okay y/n—1, 2.....3, start." He gently speaks as he intertwines his hands with yours and looks into your eyes. The both of you not blinking as you sit quietly in the middle of the café, easily being mistaken for a couple by any passerby once again. But, Yeonjun gets an idea to kill two birds with one stone. His expression softens even further, as he pulls the back of your hand to your lips and gives it a kiss.

"You drive me crazy, y/n." Yeonjun says.

And somehow, you start blinking to piece together what he means. He's told you he loves you before but not like this, he's kissed the back of your wrist lovingly, but not like this.

"W- what, what do you mean junnie?" You stumble over your words out of curiosity and shock.

"I mean it. I love you y/n, I want you to be the woman I wake up to every morning. I can't keep hiding my feelings for you anymore, I have to come clean and tell you the truth. I don't know how—but you never notice the smile on my face whenever someone asks if we're dating fade as you quickly call me your best friend. It's almost as if it's a horrible reality check, and I can't keep living like this. I want you to be my woman, I want you to be proud when you're walking with me on the street. And, more importantly, I need you." Yeonjun softly speaks to you as if every word of his was coated in honey, sweet and soothing.

The ride back to your home was extremely quiet and Yeonjun was as patient as he could be with you who were still shy from his confession. You hadn't uttered a word from that moment, and your face was hot to touch. After you got home, Yeonjun was afraid that he might have made the wrong move by confessing to you so suddenly. He didn't want to push you away. So, he slowly opened the door to peer into your room to ask if you're okay and apologize if it was out of line of him to say what he said.

"Y/n? Is everything okay? Did I make you uncomfortable?" He spoke with his signature pout on his plush lips in a sulky tone as he sat down onto your bed.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, I mean— junnie, it's just that I'm shocked—b- but in a good way! I d- didn't think y- you meant it in that way—" You stutter and the words stick to your tongue as if they're afraid to come out. But, Yeonjun's attentive eyes that have studied your expressions for so long know exactly what you're trying to say.

"Y/n, can i kiss you?" Yeonjun politely asks with the cutest smile on his face.

You simply nod yes, and that's enough for his lips to be on yours. As his lips slot right into yours, he drinks the taste of you in as if you were the most expensive and rare bottle of alcohol, he gets drunk off of you fast and can't seem to get enough. "Y/n....fuck. I've been waiting so long to tell you, I can't seem to get enough of you mmmh..." He speaks between his kisses.

"Junnie...please..." You say as you squeeze your thighs together now that he's hovering above you. "My baby wants me to take care of her? I've got you my love." Yeonjun knows all of your sensitive spots as he kisses them, making you feel a way only he can. Something so special behind each kiss he leaves behind, every kiss different from the previous. Yeonjun slowly lifts the hem of your shirt and looks into your eyes to check if there's any signs of hesitation, only taking it off when he knows you really want him as well.

Once all of your clothes are off, Yeonjun places you in his lap straddling him. His belt undone as he lifts his hips to rid himself of the confinement that are his stiff jeans, giving his boner no place to breathe. You drip onto his cock as he splits you apart with his hands tightly gripping your hips, slowly moving you up and down on him. "Mmmh—junnie...can't take it anymore!" You plead, and Yeonjun understands as he speeds up and bucks into you to match the way your hips move on him.

"Fuck baby—m' all yours...give it to me. Give me everything, you're mine—nnngh!" Yeonjun grunts as he spills into you, and you feel fuller than ever. You remain in his lap even as you shake in his embrace, so safe and so happy. And most importantly, you're all his, and he's all yours.

Beomgyu

Beomgyu and you had a lot of history, I mean, you basically knew him your whole life. If anything, you've memorized every expression, every tinge of emotion, every sarcastic comment, and most of all, his way of being himself. You couldn't tell if it was your intuition or what, but you felt as if something had shifted between you and Beomgyu. It wasn't that he was acting any differently— he was still beating you at every single game you played with that classic cocky smirk on his face, he was making you laugh just as much, and everything was the same. You brush it off as simply overthinking and change the topic, "Gyu! Give me your controller, the player one title is putting you at an advantage!!!".

"What if I said sitting next to you is already putting me at a disadvantage?" Beomgyu looked into your eyes and said it in his usual tone, so why did it make you so sad? It made no sense.

"W- What do you mean, gyu? Do you want me to sit somewhere else? I can g-" You sulk and say as you shift away from him on the loveseat you sat on, until you feel a warm hand gently but firmly grasp your wrist. With the stern look on his face, tears threaten to spill from your glistening eyes. "Gyu— please...I'm sorry for being annoying, I'm sorry for sitting next to you and being so loud, I'm sorry for being annoying, I'm sorry—"

"Y/n, no— that's not what I– just please stop crying, baby"

The silence in the room was so thick that you could almost hear your teardrop fall down your face. Did he just call you baby? Were you hearing things now? Beomgyu mentally cursed himself multiple times because, firstly, he made you cry. Secondly, he just accidentally (on purpose) called you baby.

"G- Gyu? D- Did you just—" You ask until your words are cut off by the feeling of Beomgyu's lips on yours. They're so soft and you forget why you were crying. You believe that if heaven had a feeling, it would feel something like this. Beomgyu reluctantly pulls back to finally tell you what he's wanted to for years now.

"You always talk too much, think too much, and jump to conclusions. why can't you just listen for once? I said it's a disadvantage to sit next to you because I can't focus on the TV screen, your eyes suck me in like some black hole and i just can't look away from all of those cute expressions you always make when you can't win against me. And, it's not even that, I lose my mind each time you call me by my nickname. You don't even know what you do to me." Beomgyu's hand lightly snakes up the side of your face as he wipes your tears away with his thumb. "Please stop torturing me, I need you to be mine."

You give him the same smile you did when you both first met long ago, and he swears that he feels exactly the same he did, he never seemed to get used to how it seemed like you were made for him. "Then why did you not give me a hug properly earlier? I've been thinking you're angry at me." You speak between sniffles.

"It's because I can't stand it when your body is pressed against mine, It physically hurts to feel how warm and soft you are and not be able to have all of you." Beomgyu spoke in a serious tone while looking into your eyes hazily. You felt horrible now, because you now realize why he always has a pillow on his lap when he comes over.

"Gyu m' sorry, let me make it up to you", with the cutest look in your eyes, you drop to your knees and get on the ground in front of the loveseat. It wasn't out of guilt or pressure, you just felt pathetic because you knew how frustrating it was to try to get yourself off after he left as you moaned out his name. "Y/n...." Beomgyu sighed.

As you sit eye level with his hips, you realize how bad it was for him, only making you move faster as you unzip his pants and pull out his leaking cock from the confines of his underwear. Your hand strokes him a few times as he lets out whiney moans while you continue your ministrations. "Ahhhh y/n mmh, fuck" Beomgyu moans out as you take him into your mouth as your tongue traces the veins on his cock as if to memorize those as well.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck. Oh my god. My fucking woman, my goooood, my pretty baby...hah—gonna fuckin cum. Take every last drop.....take it. take it. take it fuuuuuckkkk." His hands lace into your hair, somehow using the last bit of self control he has left to not start fucking into your throat. You continue bobbing your head as you suck him dry and swallow every single drop. Beomgyu's mind foggy, but only with the idea of how he's going to make sure you know how many feelings he's been holding to be exact.

"I'm going to show you just what you mean to me, baby."

-

\(>_<)/ ty for reading

[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 3) / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 16.1K (again...? somehow?) / navigation / inbox

A/N: ...surpriiiise! this is not the end 😭 i'm sorry to deviate from my original plan, but life got in the way a lot, so now there will be four parts to this series, this is the second-to-last. I'm sorry to keep you waiting, it just didn't work out the way I wanted it to. The real final part to this series will be posted one week from today. I hope you all understand, and I hope you enjoy this part and all of the drama that comes with it!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Your eyes blink open far too early. It’s due to your side, there’s a draft that’s worked its way over your skin and raised tiny goosebumps over your thigh. You’ve woken up differently than how you’d fallen asleep ,and you suspect that you’d wormed your way into Bradley’s chest again in your slumber. You can’t blame yourself, it’s a comfortable place to be.

You push against his abdomen to wriggle your way out of his embrace and reclaim the blanket that’s fallen, but his hands tug you closer in an instant. Too fast, you decide, as you peer through the darkness of your bedroom, eyes adjusting groggily to the light.

“Brad?” You whisper, “Are you awake?”

He takes a moment to answer, and you think he might be pretending to be asleep. But eventually you feel him nod against his pillow, “Yeah.”

“Oh, honey,” You strain to reach the bedside lamp from your spot in his grip, especially considering any distance you create between the two of you, he closes. Once you finally click the light on you see his bloodshot eyes, red and rosy from their lack of sleep.

“What’s the matter?” You croon, your voice still thick with sleep as you cup his cheek in your palm, “Why are you awake, did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” He rasps, something desperately sad in his voice, “I never slept.”

“What-” You whirl your glance around to the bedside clock that reads 2:30, “Brad, you’ve been awake the whole time?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” He defends, his fingers curling around your waist, “I- I don’t know how anymore.”

“Baby,” You feel a thick wave of nausea rising in your belly at his state of distress, feeling nothing but anguish for the broken boy; your broken boy, “It’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe now, you’re home. You don’t- uh, do you remember anything new?”

“No,” He shakes his head, eyes downcast as he swallows tightly in his throat, “No, but my brain is coming up with a thousand different ways it could have gone, and I can’t stop.”

You hope his brain hasn’t conjured the correct possibility. That he’d gone down truly alone.

“Poor baby,” You whimper, somehow more choked up than he is, “Come here.”

As he settles in your embrace, his head against your chest now, you reconsider: maybe you were made for holding him, and he was made to be held by you. Or maybe your roles are the same, each made to hold and be held by each other. Whatever the universe designed for you, it’s working, as his face presses into your collarbones like a puzzle piece snapping into place. He fits perfectly, and you feel the prickle of his mustache as he sniffles, once.

“You’re okay,” You hum, hoping that the vibrations of your voice through your throat sing him to sleep. Your nails scrape through his hair, long-since dried from his shower, though still smelling strongly of shampoo. You can feel him breathing, shakily so, against your skin, and the breeze fans through the neckline of your top, warm and soft in its rhythm. 

In, out. He’s alive. In, out. He’s here. In, out. He loves you. In, out. He wants you to stay.

In, out. He doesn’t know. In, out. He could remember at any second. In, out. He could hate you.

In, out. He won’t hate you. In, out. He’ll want to work things out. In, out. He’ll want you to stay. In, out. He loves you.

“Baby,” You croak, your throat thick with tears that are part anxiety, and part anguish for your poor boy, “I love you.” 

His hands tighten around your waist after a split second of silence, then he murmurs against your collarbone, “I love you, too.”

“Sleep,” You insist, resuming your soft strokes through his hair, “Sleep, Brad. You’re safe, you’re home.”

“You’re home, too.” He adds, and you realize it’s an affirmation on its own. That you're together; that he didn't die alone in a cockpit.

You nod, swallowing a sob, “Yeah, baby, I’m home too. And I’m not leaving, I’m gonna park my ass right here until you get eight hours of sleep, at least. Got it?”

He laughs weakly into your skin, “Got it, babe.”

“Good,” You whisper, keeping up a steady rhythm through his hair, “Good, honey, now sleep.”

You can’t seem to close your eyes until Bradley closes his own. You feel the flutter of his lashes against your skin, Then they cease their motions and the upper strands settle over the lower ones, brushing your chest in tandem. The longer you go without feeling them twitch, the better, and you don’t stop combing through his hair until his breathing has been soft and even for ten minutes minimum. Then exhaustion creeps back over you, and the knowledge that Bradley’s finally sleeping eases you into another few hours of your own slumber.

What wakes you up for the second time isn’t the series of knocks on the front door, but, yet again, a phone call. It's seemingly a pattern of late. This time your phone rings in the kitchen though, where you’d left it last night while eating. You’re surprised it hasn’t died, but you hear the ringing fade out while you lay in Bradley’s embrace. Your brain struggles to process the past 48 hours, but you know enough about the situation to know that it’s probably Carole knocking at the door, as well as calling you when you don’t answer.

Bradley’s still sleeping, thank god, serene when his eyes aren’t open to showcase the deep anxiety they hold. You can’t imagine how he feels, clueless and terrified, like a little kid. You’re glad he’s getting at least a few restful hours, even if you’re sure his dad and yours’ voices will boom far too loud through the house the second they step through the door.

Rushing to answer the door is hard to do silently, but when your face pops into the window panes set in the wood, you hold a finger over your lips.

Shush, you warn, then with a jerk of your thumb backwards towards the bedroom, he’s sleeping.

Carole, the one who needs your warning the least, nods jovially, a pretty smile already set on her face for the day. She’s a ray of sunshine, and you’re lucky to have her at this moment especially. Nick and your dad salute you, and you’ve never let out a more exasperated sigh than the one you greet them with.

“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty,” Nick grins, barging in like he owns the place (which he did, for a while), “Brad still conked out?”

“Yeah,” You nod, opening the door wider to let everyone through. Carole’s carrying an insulated bag, your dad has a few totes of groceries, and Nick's got a heavy cooler strapped over his shoulder like a purse.

“My god,” You marvel, “Did you raid a Trader Joe’s?”

“You said there was nothin’ in the fridge,” Carole grins, “We brought stuff for breakfast, and whatever else you need, we can run out for later.”

“Thanks,” You gush, taking the bag from her despite her protests, “Is there milk in here?”

“And eggs,” Your dad nods, holding up his own bags, “And bread, and fruit, and-”

“And I wanna put this thing down,” Nick groans, heading for the kitchen with the cooler, “You talk too much, Mav.”

“Me- I talk too much?” His voice raises a hair as he heads for the kitchen in tow, and you and Carole shoot him the necessary disapproving looks, “This, from the guy who missed his flight to Hawaii because he was too busy telling the gate attendant that his son won student of the week in preschool.”

The two conveniently bicker, leaving you and Carole alone in the entryway. She sends you a questioning glance, no words needed.

“Not yet,” You mutter, and her eyes dim in disappointment, “I just- I wanted one night. One night to pretend like nothing happened at all, but I promised him we’d do it today. I told him,” You sigh shakily, pinching at the bridge of your nose, “I told him I wasn’t trying to hide from him, or anything like that, but- but that I just wanted a normal night. He said it was fine, he agreed. I wouldn’t have just gone to sleep if he pushed.”

“Honey!” She scolds, like there’s not a thought in your head, “Since when has he ever pushed you? Of course he said it was fine, you asked him for it! He'd let you run him over with a train if you asked to. You have got to stop this,” She narrows her eyes at you, the expression accompanied by various only-slightly-muffled banging sounds from the kitchen “I know it’s scary. I know it could go a lotta different ways. But you owe this to him now. Now that he knows, now that he’s askin’ questions, you’ve gotta answer ‘em. You’re the only one that can, you’re the only one that knows!”

Neither of you have noticed your dad standing in the kitchen doorway. But he’s not stealthy, and his broad frame catches your eye. You turn, panicked, but his face reads confusion.

“You’re the only one that knows what?” He queries, one thick brow raised. Carole waits for you to answer, and you build the courage in your chest.

“Nothing, dad. I’ll- I’ll talk to you about it later. In private.”

He remains concerned, his light eyes darkened in worry, but he trusts you, and Carole doesn’t fight back against your solution. He nods once, then clears his throat, “Nick can’t figure out how to work your stove. He wants to make pancakes.”

“Ooh, that man,” Carole huffs, more exasperated than upset, as she storms into the kitchen, “Honey, it’s the dial in the back!”

Technically, you’re in private now. Your dad seems to realize the same, shifting towards you, but before he can ask, there’s a thud from the bedroom.

Fear stabs your heart like a sword, blade sharp and venomous as you imagine an injured Bradley unable to get himself off of the floor. But you aren’t able to take two steps towards the bedroom before Bradley comes stumbling down the hall, nearly tripping over the too-long pajama pants you’re still matching in.

When he sees you and your dad, he freezes for a moment, posture tight. You hope he’s not embarrassed to be caught in his holiday pajamas, but you’re more concerned about why he was sprinting in the first place.

“Baby,” You call worriedly, making your way over to him across the carpet of the hallway, “Baby, what’s wrong? DId you fall? I heard a thud.”

“No, I-” He shakes his head, blinking hard for a moment, “I heard someone in the house. I don’t- I thought someone had broken in. Sweetheart, I- I didn't even realize you weren't in bed," He chuckles sheepishly, "I thought I was protecting you.”

You squeeze his arm with a fond smile, though you're still worried about him, adoration swelling in your chest alongside concern, "Poor baby."

“Sorry, Brad,” Your dad laughs softly, heading back towards the doorway to rejoin the others once he realizes you won’t be sharing just yet,  “Your dad can’t find his way around a kitchen.”

“Should have known,” Bradley huffs, curling an arm around your waist, “If my mom ever left him he’d never eat again.”

You welcome the privacy that this gives you and Bradley, and your hands find the broad expanse of his chest as you stare worriedly up at him.

“Brad,” You hum, lifting one of your hands as his settle on your waist. You lay it over his cheek and he leans into the contact like a touch-starved puppy, “Are you sure you’re okay? You seemed really freaked out. And- and your ribs are still broken, don’t they hurt? I think you should get back in bed. We can-”

“Hey,” Bradley murmurs, mustache tickling your palm as he lays a kiss to the heel of your hand, “It’s alright. You’re spiraling, babe. I’m okay.”

You like that about him, the way he kisses you anywhere. It doesn’t seem to matter if he catches your lips, your hand, your elbow; it’s all there for him to love on.

“I am not spiraling,” You defend weakly, “I just want to make sure you’re alright. Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” He shakes his head, and when you move to pull your hand away from his face, one of his own flies to catch it. His hand fits just as well against the back of yours as it does the front, and you let him cradle your palm to his cheek.

“I’m okay,” He repeats, a promise that reassures the deep ache of worry in your chest, “Thanks for helping me sleep last night, honey. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You swallow the weight of his words, feeling them settle like boulders in your stomach. They’ve tangled strings around your heart, tugging and yanking at the organ until it sinks low in your body. Today’s the last day you can pretend you’d never walked away.

“You’ll have me forever,” You hum, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips that you hope distracts from the tears in your eyes. You sigh shakily against his mouth, relishing the feeling of his lips against your own. It’s comforting, and he keeps it chaste but meaningful, humming sweetly into you. When you break away only your lips part, foreheads and noses still flush like snapped-in puzzle pieces.

There’s some inexplicable force sticking you together, blood magnetized to each other’s from how long your hearts have beat as one. You let your eyes slip shut in his hold, hoping with everything in you that today isn’t the last time you’ll get to hold him like this. There’s a countdown ticking away in your brain, one that makes your blood run cold and your stomach churn, but the smell of pancake batter tears you away from watching the numbers run out.

“Pancakes,” You whisper softly against his lips, “You wanna eat?”

“Yeah,” He nods, but he makes no move towards the kitchen. He’s standing still, like you’re a cat that’s decided to snooze on his lap and he’s afraid of spooking you. His hands are still holding your waist, dragging you into him and supporting your weight against his own. It’s comfortable there, serene as you breathe in tandem, drinking each other in after a rough night. You’re glad Bradley’s gotten even a little bit of sleep, and with a nap later, you’re sure he’ll be well-rested enough to talk, even though you wish you didn’t have to. This is a fantasy you want to get lost in, one that you wish wasn’t starting to crack and splinter under his discerning gaze. It’s endearing that he knows you well enough to know that you’re lying to him, but not now that you want them to be the truth.

“You still haven’t remembered anything?” You ask, grateful to be cupping his cheek where his hand holds your own.

“Nope,” He shakes his head as much as he can with it pressed to your own, kissing at your top lip. It doesn’t require reciprocation, it’s barely-there and fleeting, “Doctor said it could be weeks.”

“He also said it could be minutes,” You mumble, voice hazy with worry, “Let’s go eat, Brad. Our parents brought along a buffet.”

It’s only now that either of you finally move, hands sliding across each others’ skin to join together. You walk as your fingers intertwine, and he holds back to let you step into the kitchen first.

“There he is!” Nick cheers at his son’s dramatic entrance, “Hey, Brad, watch this!”

He yanks the pan off of the stove, standing with his shoulders squared and his knees bent, like he’s preparing to bat at a softball. He jerks the pan up and out, dislodging the pancake from its resting place and sending it into the air when he pulls the pan back down again. It flips gracefully, but Nick catches it less so, half of the gooey side of the pancake landing on the rim of the pan and splattering onto his hand.

“Shit,” He hisses, and Carole buries her face in her hands with a sigh, “Mav, get me a paper towel.”

“Nice one, dad,” Bradley drawls, letting you stifle your laugh into his shoulder, “You could go pro with that.”

“If you make fun of me I’ll spit in the batter,” Nick grumbles as your dad swipes away the batter dripping inches away from his watch, “Thanks, Mav.”

The paper towel and pancake mishap are forgotten as you chat in the kitchen, standing around like a proper family. You’ve always been one, and you hope you always will be. You find an easy home tucked into Bradley’s side, feeling his thumb stroke at your waist and his lips press to your hair every few minutes. The pancakes go surprisingly fast, and Carole refuses to let anyone help her slice fruit, which is probably a good idea, at least for your dad, who’s fond of showing off knife tricks he hasn’t yet mastered.

Bradley’s perfectly capable of dressing his own pancakes up, but you feel the need to. Maybe it’s girlfriend duty, maybe it’s the fact that his ribs are still achy, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re trying to overcompensate, but whatever it is has your hand delving into the bowl of freshly washed blueberries, grabbing a handful and sprinkling them over Bradley’s buttered stack of pancakes. Then you take a banana, leaving Carole three more to slice up into the salad.

You slice the fruit towards your thumb, the blade pressing gently to your skin as it cuts through the banana. It doesn’t hurt, but Bradley reaches for your hands, pulling the knife away and holding the affected thumb.

“Don’t do it like that,” He explains, raising your thumb to his lips. He kisses it once, his lips pressing to the smooth pad of your finger, mustache tickling your skin, “I don’t want you to cut yourself.”

“I was careful,” You insist, but the last thing you want to do is pull away from Bradley, so you let him curl his fingers around your own, interlocking them as he holds your hand.

“I’ll cut it,” He squeezes your hand, leaning in to peck softly at your lips, “You’ve done a ton for me these past few days, babe. I can cut my own banana.”

You worry you’re coming off as smothering, that you’ve suffocated him with care. But the thought of never being able to do it again, and being deprived of the option to for weeks, has made you more of a helicopter girlfriend than anything. 

You let him cut his own banana, just in case he’s feeling resentment towards you for being so overbearing. But you don’t think he’s angry, not as he slices the banana down onto the cutting board and takes it between his thumb and forefinger. He holds it out for you, right up to your lips like you shouldn’t even be asked the effort of leaning forwards to eat it. You take it carefully from his hand, and you lament the fact that you’ll get banana mush on his thumb if you try kissing it. 

The fruit is flavorful on your tongue, but it’s a small slice, and you finish it quickly. You let the aftertaste linger in your mouth as you head for Bradley at the counter, pushing your face into his back and slinging your arms around his waist. You’re careful to keep pressure off of his aching ribs, and he leans into your touch instead of flinching away.

You settle your cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt, head turned so that you’re facing your houseguests. They’re all smiling at you, Carole most of all, and you offer them a sleepy one back.

“So, Brad,” Nick muses, plating the final pancake with a flourish that, thankfully, doesn’t send the stack toppling to the ground, “What are you gonna do today?”

“Nap,” Bradley blurts, and he uses the time that your family chuckles in unison to slip you another banana slice. It’s an awkward angle that his arm has to achieve, but you take it from him happily, jaw working to munch on the fruit while you nestle against his back once more.

“I dunno,” He hums, nearly through chopping the banana, “Maybe a movie or something. Hey, we could finish season 5 of The Office.”

“Mm,” You nod with a mouthful of banana against his back, “Yeah.”

You’ve been watching the series together, having finished Friends already. It’s a good show to watch before bed, because it gives you something to snuggle up together and giggle at. You’ve only got a few episodes left in the season, so you should be able to finish it in no time with Bradley’s extensive bedrest.

“Alright, my loves,” Carole croons, dropping the last two pieces of watermelon she’d been cutting into the bowl, “That’s the fruit! Are we ready to eat?”

A round of excitement circles the kitchen, and you cling to Bradley for as long as you can. He lets you, doesn’t try to shake you off as he drizzles syrup over his pancakes.

“You wanna split ‘em?” He offers, and you nod. He can’t see you, but he feels the movement against his back, and even if he wasn’t able to, he knows you well enough to know you’ll want bites of the food. You reluctantly let go of his waist when he picks the plate up, and you trail behind him to the dining room. He’s finally able to see the decorations you’d hung, and he stops to admire them in the doorway.

“Welcome home,” You coo, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

Carole stands proud beneath the banner, “Do you like it, baby?”

“Guys-,” Bradley chuckles sheepishly, setting the pancakes down at his place just beside yours, “I love it. Thank you, even though I was only gone for two days.”

“It was the longest two days of my life,” You gripe, but you suppose your days have been unpleasantly long for weeks now, “That’s what I was referring to, by the way, when I said your mom was scarily agile. I came out from the bedroom to find her standing on both the couch and the table.”

“Jesus,” Bradley huffs, bewildered. Nick looks a little concerned, Carole bashful, and your dad impressed. 

Eating around the table together reminds you of when you were younger, dinners and breakfasts and lunches alike being shared around the table. It didn’t matter who’s, you could turn a Denny’s booth into your home with a few plates of food and the laughter that’s never in short supply within your family.

Bradley cuts his pancakes himself, probably happy to have something to do with his hands. He’s eager to return the favor of feeding you, grabbing chunks of pancake on the end of his fork and guiding them into your mouth. You’re reminded of a picture you’d passed up in the photo album yesterday, of Bradley spoon-feeding you as a baby. His utensil-airplane impression was probably scarily accurate thanks to his dad; you wish you could remember it. Maybe, if you don't break up tonight, you'll see him feed your own kid that way.

You’re happy to sit and be fed, even letting him wipe syrup off of your chin like you’d done for him. You’re sure the only reason he doesn’t kiss it off of you is because your dad is there, and his, too. They have a tendency to make fun of you, even if it’s all good-natured.

“D’you need more groceries, baby?” Carole points her fork in your direction, pointedly swallowing her mouthful of watermelon before speaking.

Her husband doesn’t offer you the same courtesy, speaking through a messy mouthful of eggs, “Pro’lly not. We damn near bought out the store.”

Before Carole can reprimand him for his less-than-perfect etiquette, you nod, “We need produce. We might be okay on fruit if there’s any of this left,” You gesture to the bowl of fruit salad, “But we need vegetables. And eggs, we probably used them all. I’ll make a list later, once I clean up.”

“Once we clean up,” Bradley corrects you, “I’ve been in bed for two days straight, I need to do something.”

“You’re gonna need to be in bed for a lot longer than two days,” You narrow your eyes at him, “You need rest, baby,”

“I’m rested! And I’m gonna rest later when we watch our show,” He pleads, “Just let me help?”

“Why doesn’t he help me with the dishes?” Your dad intervenes, scraping his last bite of pancake through a sticky puddle of syrup on his plate. It’s boysenberry, and a drop nearly falls to your tablecloth as he brings it to his mouth.

“You wash, I’ll dry and put away. That way you can keep your arms down. Deal?”

“Fine by me,” Bradley nods, and you shoot your dad a thankful glance. 

“I’ll sort through the fridge then,” You decide, “Nick, Carole, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

“We’re gonna keep bummin’ ‘round here ‘til you stop feeding us,” Nick decides, “Whaddya say honey, ‘think we can move into the guest room?”

“Oh I’m sure they’d love that,” Carole plays along, a wry drawl in her voice, “They’d have to hear your snoring all night.”

“He snores, too,” You jerk an accusatory thumb at Bradley who doesn’t even try to deny the allegation, “Like father, like son. It must come with the mustache.”

“Speaking of my mustache,” Bradley’s hand flies to his lip, feeling cautiously at the patch of hair atop it, “Did they- shave part of my mustache?”

A guilty look is shared around the table. You speak up in a meek voice, “Yeah, baby. To get the breathing tube in there.”

He groans, “Next time, just let me die.”

“Don’t say that,” You hiss, stomping on his foot beneath the table. The yelp that he lets out is almost comical, but Carole’s face is still scrunched in a disapproving frown at her son.

“I’m sorry!” Bradley cries, “I’m sorry, jesus, are you wearing steel-toed boots under there?”

“No, but if you keep making jokes like that, I’ll put some on and kick you in the balls.” You threaten, and Bradley thinks it might be a promise.

“It’s not funny,” Carole insists, voice weaker than yours, “Brad, you- you almost did die.”

“Mom-” He sighs weakly, posture deflating, “I’m sorry. Really, it was a bad joke. I won’t do it again. Are you okay?”

She takes a minute to think, blinking at her plate instead of meeting anyone’s eyes. Then she stands, nodding hastily, “I’m alright. I just need a minute.”

Bradley tries to follow after her but Nick stands at the same moment, waving him back down into his seat.

“She’s okay,” He promises, smiling sadly at his son, “But she really was scared. I’ll handle it, you finish eating.”

Bradley slumps back into his seat, the sinking feeling in his gut at making his mom cry probably similar to the one in yours from lying to him. You’ve become scarily fond of this temporary life of yours, where you’re still dating Bradley, and you’ve got a family again. Lying comes easy now, and if you don’t think about it, you’ll forget you’re even doing it. You’re the actor most dedicated to their craft, believing even your own performance because it means you get Bradley back. 

Lying is much easier when you love doing it.

You hear a rogue sniffle from Carole down the hall, and you clatter your fork against your plate to cover it up. It probably doesn’t work, as Bradley stares forlornly at his own almost-empty plate, and you don’t think he has the appetite to finish it.

“Are you done?” You nudge his knee, and he glances up dazedly at you.

“Yeah,” His throat is dry and his voice is weary, “You want the rest?”

“I’m okay,” You shake your head, turning to your dad, “Dad? You all finished?”

“Yeah,” He smiles weakly, trying to break the awkward silence, “Ready to clean up the kitchen, Brad?”

“Alright,” He hums, standing from his chair. His movements are slow and sluggish, and you don’t think he’ll be at his best until his mom comes out with dry cheeks and a smile. In the meantime, you dig in the cupboards for a tupperware to put the fruit salad in.

Cleaning is tense, even if you and your dad try acting like nothing is wrong. Bradley’s not talkative anymore, and you resort to going about your business silently, packing the fridge with what little leftovers there are and making sure Bradley isn’t straining himself at the sink.

When Nick and Carole emerge from the bathroom, peering tentatively into the kitchen, Bradley nearly drops the last plate he’s washing into the sink. He hastily dries his hands, moving in for a hug from his mother while she smiles sheepishly at him.

“I’m sorry,” He repeats, and Nick smiles on. You try not to stare, not to ruin their moment, but you can’t help it; you and your dad share a happy grin.

“I know, baby,” She promises, combing a hand through the back of his hair, “I know, I just- I just get worried about you, s’all. ‘Specially when you land yourself in the hospital.”

“No more jokes,” Bradley promises, and she gratefully parrots him, adding 'and no more crashes,'.

“Alright,” You hum, when it’s appropriate to speak, “I’m gonna run to the store. Brad, you should get back in bed, but- uh, again, you’re all welcome to stay for longer, if you’d like.”

“I’ll go with you,” Your dad steps in, almost too close to be casual. You realize why, and that sinking feeling you’d been trying to ignore the entire morning comes back; He wants to know your secret.

“Okay,” You nod, trying to keep your composure even if your hands suddenly feel sweaty, “We won’t be gone long. Babe, get some rest, I mean it.”

You narrow your eyes at Bradley, then turn to Nick and Carole, “If you stick around, will you be on babysitting duty? Don’t let him wander around too much.”

“Will do,” Nick nods once, firmly, “Come on, Lieutenant, you heard your orders.”

“Alright, alright,” He gripes, rolling his eyes exasperatedly as Nick pats his back. He moves towards you, stepping across the kitchen tile to kiss you goodbye.

“Get me some cheetos,” He pleads, face only inches away from your own. He leans in and his mouth moves against yours as he speaks, “The jalapeno ones?”

“Okay,” You giggle, dragging out the last syllable. You use his lips to chase away your nerves, letting his sweet touch drown out the thoughts in your head. You kiss him briefly once, then twice, and send him off to bed with a quick nudge of your nose against his own.

“Bye,” Your dad flashes one hand in a quick wave as you call, ‘Be back soon!’.”

He doesn’t make his move the second the door shuts, he waits until you get going down the road in Bradley’s Bronco before opening his mouth.

“So,” He tries coming off as casual but you wouldn’t buy it in a million years, “What was Carole talking about earlier?”

“I didn’t want to tell you,” You confess, suddenly very invested in checking your blind spot even though it’s clear, “I wanted to keep it private. I didn’t even want her to know.”

“Well, she knows everything,” Your dad shrugs, discerning eyes glancing at your own guarded ones through the mirror, “And I’m usually out of the loop. Can we change that just this once?”

“Dad-” You scoff at his persistence, running a hand over your face and slapping it back onto the wheel, “Something happened between Bradley and I before the crash.”

“Something happened,” Your dad muses, brain trekking heartbreakingly positive routes, “You… paid off the cars? You bought a pet? You- oh god, don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

“No!” You gush, but it’s not for a lack of sex, merely your use of contraceptives, “I- um, he asked me to marry him.”

You feel cruel when you see his face light up. It’s like the inflation of a balloon, features rising in joy until his eyes shine like the sun, “Oh, honey, that’s amazing. Congratulations! Have you set a date, or- or a venue, or-”

“I said no.”

The balloon deflates slightly. A tiny puff of air escapes it, like you’ve released your fingers around its spout for only a second. His eyes dull slightly, and his smile is cautiously still stretching his cheeks.

“What?”

“I said no, dad.” You repeat, voice aching in your throat, “I said no, and I left him.”

“You left him?” Your dad’s voice mirrors your own, bordering on shaky as his brain reprograms its image of you two, “You- you said no and you left him?”

“Yeah,” You whimper, the word coming out far weaker than you wish it did. Your mouth turns down so that you can bite the inside of your bottom lip, desperately withholding a sob.

“Why?”

That’s the million dollar question. The one you know the answer to, but don’t want to admit to anyone. You left because you were scared of getting hurt, and now you’re lying to everyone because you’re scared they’ll see you as a coward. You’re scared they’ll think you’re scared.

You’re scared they’ll know you’re scared.

You want to tell your dad that you don’t know. You want to tell him that it had been a fit of insanity, that you’d been cured with a walk around the block and that you’d kissed and made up just that night. But you swallow your nerves, squaring your shoulders as you make a right turn, “I was scared.”

You’d admitted it to Carole in the hospital, but she’d seen right through you, she’d forced your confession. Doing it now, by choice, makes you feel like you’re taking a step forward. It’s like you’re actually cracking down on the promise you’d made to yourself days ago, that you’d stop running just to self-destruct. You’re not facing your dad in the seat but it feels like you’re facing off with some sort of formless, panic-driven entity that encapsulates him, and slowly you’re chipping away at it.

“I was scared because marriage seems so much more than dating does. We’ve been dating- forever. The only thing marriage would have changed was that we’d have a paper telling us we loved each other. I mean,” You laugh, but the sound is reminiscent of a sob, “-we always joked about being too lazy to get married. That we didn’t do it for 20 years because we already practically were, and we didn’t wanna waste gas money for some preacher to tell us we were. But- but anyways, after Javy’s crash, I was remembering Nick’s, and I started worrying about Bradley. I was sad and scared for Nick and Javy, I couldn’t imagine being in that situation with Bradley. So when he asked me to marry him, it felt like if I said yes I’d be signing onto that. I- I know that’s dumb, and that’s not what saying yes meant. But I had this awful panic running through my head; that he could crash at any point in time, and if I didn’t get out soon, I’d be heartbroken and terrified like everyone else was, and I didn’t wanna go through that again. So I- I said no, and I told him I couldn’t love him anymore, and I left, because I thought that I’d be okay if I just didn’t marry him. Like I could have- moved on in the two days I wasn’t living with him, or something. Like if I just wasn’t formally dating him, or married to him, I wouldn’t be hurt if he was.”

“And-” You break away, voice trembling and nose running, “It didn’t even work. I walked out, and he still crashed, and I still got hurt. I didn’t solve anything, I- I made it worse. I made it so much worse, dad.”

You’ve turned into the grocery store parking lot, and a terrible, stiff, heavy silence hangs over the car while you park it. You wait until you shut it off, engine puttering out and body no longer humming, to look at him.

He’s staring at his lap, crystal-clear tears sliding down his cheeks. He isn’t looking at you, but you’re sure he knows you’re looking at him, and it turns your stomach in a nauseous whirl.

You stare for five seconds before he speaks. Five agonizing, soul-crushing, terrifying seconds where you think you might be on the verge of being disowned.

“I was never good at commitment,” His small voice breaks the silence, and the breath that he drags in to push the words out is shaky, “And- neither was your mom. Obviously. So I shouldn’t be surprised that it runs in the family. But- but Y/N, you left? You have been in love with Bradley since before you could say the word, I mean he- he was the only one that could get you to stop crying before your naps as a kid! You wouldn’t sleep unless he was in the room, I’m surprised Nick and Carole didn’t move him in with us.”

“I know,” You croak, but he’s not finished.

“I- I understand your thought process.” He assures you, “It’s flawed, but I understand how your brain conjured it up. You were trying to save yourself, and I understand that instinct. I just can’t believe it happened between you two. I mean, you were fated, I thought you two would set the world record for longest relationship. You were gonna go gray together, you were gonna have a thousand kids, and-”

“Dad!’ You cry, a sob shaking your chest, “I know. I get it. You’re making this worse.”

“How could I possibly make this worse?” He laughs incredulously, but there’s not a shred of humor in his voice, “Y/N, I-” He lowers his voice, cutting some of the exasperation out of his tone, “I don’t even understand, why is he- oh.. my god.”

“He doesn’t know,” Your dad concludes, head knocked back against the headrest, “He doesn’t know you left him because he has amnesia.”

“Yeah,” You confirm, voice meek and shameful, “I- I was gonna leave after I knew he was okay. But then- then Carole figured us out, and she said it would be better if I pretended for now, because he was probably scared and he needed my comfort in the moment. She said to just let him remember on his own time and then address it, to- to not overwhelm him with a plane crash and a breakup.”

“But I- I thought he’d have his memory back by now,” You sniffle, wiping your nose with your hand, caring little about the mess, “The doctor said minutes, I didn’t think it’d go on for days. And now I’m starting to get worried, will- will he ever remember? Am I supposed to lie to him for the rest of my life? Or am I supposed to leave again, to confess and break his heart a second time? I don’t know what to do, dad!” You feel like a little girl, sobbing in her father’s lap, “Please, I- I don’t know what to do.”

You’re immensely relieved when he reaches over to take your hand. You’ve spent the last two weeks disgusted with yourself, and for your dad to react the way he did, you were afraid he felt the same. But he squeezes your hand tight, and you’d complain about how it squished your fingers together if it were any other situation.

“Honey,” His voice trembles, and you recall the only times you’ve ever seen him cry. After Goose’s accident, of course, when you’d broken your arm at the park when you were twelve, when the dog he’d gotten for you as a birthday present passed on. He’s a man of very little tears, so seeing them now moves you.

“I love you,” He promises, and you’re glad that hasn’t changed, “And I’m always going to, even if you do the wrong thing. And this was wrong, that- that was the wrong thing. But I think you can make it right again, and if you need my help doing that, it’s yours.”

“Thanks, dad,” You gush through a faceful of tears, a wet mess sliding down your chin and soaking through the neckline of your shirt, “I- I want to make it right. Carole thinks he’ll take me back if I apologize. And I want to, I want to apologize.”

“Yeah,” Your dad’s brows raise and he sniffles, wiping a tear from his face, “Yeah, that’s a good start. I think he’d forgive you for just about anything, I- I don’t know that you could ever drive him away.”

“That’s what Carole said," You recall, and you feel guilty for the hope it gives you.

“But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt him.” Your dad reminds you, and you nod.

“I’m gonna grovel.” You decide, “Like, hardcore, begging on my knees, ‘I’ll-do-anything-for-you-to-forgive-me’ groveling.”

“I think that’s your best bet,” Your dad lets out a huff of laughter, smearing away another tear, “I think you can do it. But I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

“I know,” You lament, “But- but I don’t care. I’ll do it even if it's hard. He’s worth fighting for.”

“That’s my girl,” Your dad grins, squeezing your hand. It feels like you’re back on the peewee soccer field at age four after scoring a goal. You squeeze back, and have a sudden hankering for orange slices.

“Okay, let’s stop fucking crying,” He breathes, wiping at his eyes overzealously and sniffling hard. You should have known he’d pump up the dramatics, even in serious situations.

“Alright,” You laugh wetly, the sound infused with hope you wouldn’t feel if it weren’t for your dad, “Do you think they’ll be able to tell we were crying?”

You share a quick once-over with your dad, clocking his red eyes, puffy towards the bottom, and equally rosy nose. You’re sure your face is just as swollen, and he cracks a grin.

“Nah,” He shakes his head, “Definitely not.”

The next thing you share is a laugh, cranking the car’s AC on high so that your tears dry up quicker. Maybe they’ll even freeze right on your cheeks, so that you can save them and defrost the memory later to feel your dad’s love again.

--

“You heard the lady,” Nick calls to Bradley when he reaches for the dish he’d abandoned in the sink, “Head to bed, Brad. I’ll finish the dishes.”

“It’s one plate!” Bradley gripes, but Carole’s dangerous glances towards him works just as effectively as it had when he was younger, and he grumbles, “Fine.”

“Sweet dreams,” Nick jeers after him as he shuffles back to your shared bedroom, but Carole nudges him towards the sink with a scoff.

“Stop teasin’ him, and get to work, busboy. I expect the counters wiped, too!”

“Call me goddamn Cinderella,” Goose grumbles, but he’d wipe down the floor before every step she took if she asked him to. He gets to work with no protest.

Carole treads carefully down the hallway, hoping her son is dressed sufficiently for her presence in the room. She finds him swapping out his pillow for yours, and she lingers in the doorway with a careful smile.

“Hey, babycakes. Gonna nap?”

“Maybe,” Bradley nods, hair already mussed from the pillow, “Thanks for staying, mom.”

“Of course, baby,” Her heart aches for her son, being on the brink of death and not even remembering it. Being so close to losing his life and not knowing how it felt. Just knowing that it happened; knowing that it didn’t happen.

“You told me when you were twelve that you were too old for me to tuck you in,” She pushes off of where she’s leaning against the doorway, coming around the bed to Bradley’s side to fuss with the blankets, “But you’re probably still weak from the crash, and you couldn’t push me away if you tried.”

He lets out a laugh, one that’s rife with exhaustion but genuine all the same, as she digs her hands beneath his sides, tucking the comforter beneath him. She braces her hands on the mattress to lean down and kiss his forehead, and when she does, the tips of her fingers are pricked by the sharp corner of something she can’t see under the pillow beside him.

“Ouch! What-” She hisses, nearly face-planting over Bradley’s shoulder as she lifts the pillow. She stiffens when she realizes it’s a picture of you, framed in black wood and probably missing from his nightstand.

“I- I’m sorry.” She mumbles as he lays frozen and awkward in place, “I didn’t mean to pry. It just- it was sharp, and I was confused. If I'd known-”

“It’s alright, mom.” Bradley promises weakly, clearly embarrassed by her discovery, “Don’t worry about it.”

Carole is worried. She moves in again for the forehead kiss, letting it linger against Bradley’s forehead for a second longer than she needs to. She fights back tears when she pulls away, barely able to muster a smile.

“She’s just goin’ to the store,” She teases sweetly, “She’s not shippin’ off to war. That’s your job.”

“Yeah,” He laughs weakly, “I know. I just miss her.”

She agrees as she combs through his caramel-colored hair with one hand, “Yeah? Tell me about it, baby. What’s going on?”

She wants to hear it from him. She wants to know exactly what he’s thought of your careful deception, and see if she can offer him even miniscule relief towards your possibly suspicious behavior. It’s hard playing a double agent, but she loves you both too much to pick a side.

“Mom,” He takes a long pause before speaking, gnawing on the inside of his cheek like it’s gristle he’s working through, “I lied.”

She racks her brain, were the pancakes not good? Did he not want her to tuck him in? Does he wish they’d gone home so that he could have a moment of silence?

“Oh, yeah? About what, baby?”

“I…” Bradley starts, looking like the words are making him nauseous, rolling his stomach as they crawl out of his mouth, “I remember everything.”

Carole’s the one that’s going to be sick. Her stomach has only dropped so fast twice in her life, receiving the news of both of her boys’ crashes. It’s the hardest thing in the world to keep a straight face, but she allows it to drop slightly so that it looks like she’s just shocked by the news.

“What?" Perhaps her voice is louder than it should be, but she can't control it, "Your memories are back?’

“Yeah. I- I remember it all. And Mom-”

“Brad,” Nick calls from down the hallway, barreling into the room in his typical dramatic , “You- she said your memories are back?”

They freeze like he’s torn an irreparable hole in the delicate conversation. He’s always had a habit of bringing life into a room, but the subject matter had been killing them both, and his energy is the opposite of what they both need to finish it.

“Yeah, dad.” Bradley breathes, a sheen of uncontrollable tears glazing over his eyes that he prays no one sees, “I remember everything.”

“That’s great!” Nick cheers, giddy demeanor slowly dying as no one else smiles, “...Isn’t it? What’s- why are you crying, Brad?”

Carole turns to see for herself, and swallows a sob as she reaches over to wipe the single tear away that had managed to escape down his left cheek. At her touch his face crumples, and what must be a million more tears flood his face.

“Woah, hey,” Nick sits at the end of the bed, face finally drained of all happiness, “What’s the matter, Brad?”

“S’okay baby,” Carole promises, her own voice shaky, “You’re okay, Bradley. You can talk to us, you can tell us anything. What’s the trouble?”

“She left.” Bradley whimpers, overhead light illuminating every single crystalline tear that rushes in a waterfall down his face. He gasps for breath, choking on a cry when he tries to speak over it, “She- she left me!”

“Bradley,” Carole rushes to soothe him, smoothing her hands over his cheeks and slipping one behind his neck, “Sit up baby. Come here, sit up, talk to us.”

He lets Nick help her tug him off of the mattress, and he slumps forward into Carole’s embrace when she pulls him into a hug. He doesn’t even turn his head to bury his face into her shoulder, he just cries against her, limp like a ragdoll.

She presses rapidfire kisses to his temple, tears flowing down her own cheeks. She heard your side of the story first, she knows you had your reasons and your fears and your regrets, but watching Bradley fall apart is planting an ugly seed of anger towards you within her chest. She hates it because she loves you, but she wants her son to be okay again.

“Brad-man,” Nick splutters warily, “Y/N? Bud, she just went to the store. She’ll be back in, like, an hour, tops. No need for tears, son.”

“Nick,” Carole hisses, wishing she wasn’t so angry with him for not knowing the truth. She shouldn’t either, so she pets Bradley’s hair down to distract herself from giving anything away, “Baby, what do you mean?”

“She left,” Bradley repeats, crying defeatedly, his posture slumped and his tears thick and plentiful, “I asked her to- to marry me, and she left.”

Nick is finally silent. His spine stiffens, and Carole guesses a shiver ran up it. He looks at her bewilderedly, bordering on horrified, and she stares back, wishing for the third time in her life that she could turn back time.

“Brad,” Nick starts carefully, voice weak, “Do you- do you think you might be misremembering things, bud? I trust you, and- and obviously this means a lot to you. But that- maybe your concussion’s messin’ with your head. Are you sure that happened?”

“I’m sure, dad.” Bradley had the option to respond with a lot more malice than he chooses to, the words coming out miserable instead, “She left me, and now she’s pretending she never did, because she thinks I don’t remember.”

“She left you,” NIck repeats, still skeptical, “And she’s- she’s lying? Why would she-”

“I hope she never stops,” Bradley croaks, throat raw from sobs, “I hope she lies to me forever.”

Carole’s breath is knocked out of her chest. She manages a soft, teary, ‘What?’, and Bradley straightens up from where he’d been lying in her embrace.

“She left two weeks ago,” Bradley recalls, a stray sob bouncin his chest, “And- and it was hell. I lived in hell for two weeks. I thought she’d stay with Phoenix or something, but I- I checked, and her location was always some cheap motel. At first I thought- well, I was worried she was seeing someone else, or something. Y’know, motels have,” He sniffles, “-bad reputations. So I didn’t go see her. I thought she was over me or something. But she’s- that’s not her. That’s not my girl. So I was going to show up on Friday, give her until the end of the week to cool off, and bring her flowers. Chocolates, ice cream, movies-” He rambles, “Whatever. I wanted to make her fall in love with me again. But- I mean, that didn’t fucking work, did it?”

Carole’s too distraught to scold him for his language. He deserves it, he deserves to climb onto the roof and shout ‘fuck!’ as loud as he wants. The situation is truly fucked, there’s no other word for it.

Her chest ripples with a sob, and Nick’s hand comes to rub her back. Up and down, in soft, soothing motions that remind her why she fell for him. 

“And- and then I woke up in the hospital, and my head was fuzzy, and my memories were gone. And the doctor told me I had amnesia, and she- she freaked. She ran off, she made that shitty bathroom excuse. I thought she was just going to cry, and- and didn’t want anyone seeing her. But everything came back to me while you two were outside,” Bradley glances guiltily at Carole, “-and- and I was gonna beg her to stay when she came back. But then- she asked to kiss me,” He whimpers, face held tight in a twisted grimace as he tries not to sob again, “-and I had a choice. I realized she was pretending, that- that it never happened. And I could choose to confess to remembering the truth, and lose her all over again, or-” Bradley shuts his eyes, squeezing a tear out of the left one, “Or pretend I didn’t know. And I wanted her- I needed her, so I pretended. I let her kiss me, and I let her-” He sniffles hard, “I let her hold my hand, and I let her feed me, and I let her lie to me. I loved it,” He cries, shoulders shaking with sobs, “I loved it when she lied to me. And I don’t want her to stop. At- at first, I thought she’d confess. That she’d tell me so that we could forgive and forget, or- or at least move forward. Because I want to, I want to forgive her, I already have, but she just won’t tell me anything happened. She was so-” He considers, voice heavy with despair, “So sweet in the hospital. It felt like nothing had happened at all, and I thought we could go back to that. We got so damn close,” He recalls, “We were- we were in the hospital room, alone, and she was just starting to tell me, and a fucking nurse walked in. We were this close!” Bradley sobs, fingers held a few tantalizing centimeters apart, “But now- now she keeps dodging the questions, and I started realizing that she-” He sniffles roughly, “-she might not want me back. She might leave if she knows I know. She’s doing it out of pity,” He chokes on his words, “So now I can’t tell her. Now I have to lie unless I want to lose her.”

Nick looks sick to his stomach, and Carole feels the same. They’re sharing horrified glances, but neither wants to berate him for lying to them. Nick reaches out to hold Bradley’s hand, and he squeezes it reassuringly.

“I get it, Brad. I do. I- if you don’t mind me asking, why did she leave? I thought-” He trails off, picking back up with even less confidence, “I thought you were soulmates, or something.”

“Yeah.” Bradley breathes, nodding, “I did, too. But she- she told me she couldn’t love me anymore. And I didn’t want to make her.”

“She told you she couldn’t love you anymore?” Nick rears back to stare questioningly at Carole, “What does that mean?”

“She’d been weird lately,” Bradley admits, “Sort of withdrawn. She wasn’t as enthusiastic in the mornings, when I’d go to work. But she always seemed fine when I came back- great, even. And I just figured she wasn’t sleeping right. But- but since Coyote crashed, I've been... scared. I had this sort of epiphany, that I could die any day and she’d be left all alone. I could die before we got married, I could die before we had kids, I could die before I got to grow old with her. I mean, I knew it was a risk,” He reasons, “But that was real. I watched that happen, and I watched his girlfriend sob in the waiting room, and I realized that could be Y/N. And I didn’t want my girlfriend terrified outside my hospital room, I wanted to say goodbye to my wife. So I thought-” He wipes a tear from his cheek, rough enough to leave it stained red, “I thought if I married her, things would be better. More secure. And she’d know that even if I died, I’d love her forever. Because that’s what marriage is, that’s- that’s what we were.”

“So I ignored the way she was acting,” Bradley laments, “I- I pushed it aside as sleep deprivation, and I pulled out a ring, and I asked her if she’d marry me. And she- she just flipped. Her eyes got all wide, and I kept waiting for her to say ‘yes’, but- but she stood up instead, and she said no. She said she wasn’t ready, that- that she couldn’t do this. That she couldn’t marry me, that she couldn’t love me anymore. And I was-” He breaks into a sob, “I was so confused. I was so hurt, because- because what? What- where did that come from? I thought she loved me,” He cries, “I thought she’d love me forever. And all of a sudden, she just can’t anymore? What happened, did- did she not want to be with me forever? Was twenty years not enough? To convince her that I was enough? I was so terrified, and I had this disgusting, sinking feeling as she was rambling about it, and she headed for the door, and I- I panicked.”

Bradley pants between sentences, breathing heavy and labored as tears spill down his cheeks. “I followed her, and I caught her by the door, and I- I begged her not to go, I told her that we could work it out, that we didn’t have to get married, that I’d make everything okay again. But she still left,” Bradley cries, “She still left me, and she didn’t come back.”

“Bradley,” Nick breathes, a hand on his knee, “Shit, Brad. I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” Carole croons, leaning in to brace her forehead against his temple, “Baby, I’m so sorry. She’s- I wish she hadn’t done that.”

“Me too,” Bradley laughs, a humorless huff after he’s gotten enough control of himself to where he doesn’t sob, “But- but she’s pretending now. And if I confess to remembering, she’ll stop. And she’ll leave. She’s- she’s doing it out of pity,” Bradley drearily repeats, “Because she doesn’t want to drop a bomb on me after I fell out of the sky. And I know it’s not right to take advantage of it, to- to lie, but if it’s what I have to do to keep her with me-”

“No,” Nick shakes his head, “Brad, you can’t lie forever.”

“I can,” Bradley insists, “Dad, I have to.”

“You can’t,” Nick urges, “Brad, think about it. You really think she’d be kissin’ you if she didn’t love you? You think she’d have slept in here with you last night if she didn’t want to? You listen to me, boy. I don’t know why she left. I don’t know why she ‘couldn’t’ love you all of a sudden. But I know it’s bullshit, ‘cause she does. Something happened, and you need to talk about it with her. But spending your entire life living a lie isn’t right. That ain’t fair, to you or her. Tell her, Brad. Tell her you know.”

“I can’t! Not yet. I’ll- I’ll make her fall in love with me again. I know I can do it, I know I can convince her I’m worth it. That she can keep loving me. I’m not going to hold her captive, I just- I just want enough time to make her fall for me again, and then she won’t be lying about the love, then it’ll be real love, and that’s what I want. I can’t tell her yet, not until she really loves me again.”

“You have to tell her now, baby,” Carole concludes softly, gentle with her son’s broken heart and panicked brain, “Wouldn’t it be better if she knew? Then you could talk, and- and kiss and make up, that sort of thing. This is- a lie, Bradley, even if it's only temporary in your mind. You’re both lying to each other, and that’s not love."

“It’s all I’ve got,” Bradley breathes, tilting his tear-stained, blotchy face towards the light overhead. His eyes are shut, delicately so, and his lashes are clumped with tears. He sniffles, nose scrunching, and takes a deep breath before looking back at his parents.

“I know she said she can’t love me anymore, whatever that means. But like I said, I’m gonna win her over again, mom. I need her to love me, and if my options are letting her lie to me, or losing her, then I’m gonna let her lie to me until she doesn’t have to anymore. Until it’s real.”

Carole wants to scream at her son. She wants to sit you down beside him and scream something along the lines of ‘Would you confess already? Tell each other the truth, and get married!’. But she chooses a gentler approach, leaning in to wipe away what she hopes is the last of Bradley’s tears.

“I don’t think you should avoid it, baby,” She hums, keeping her voice soft and sweet so that Bradley takes it as friendly advice, and not a mother’s nagging, “I think you should tell her that you remember it all, and ask her what went wrong. Ask her why she felt like she couldn’t love you anymore, figure out what the problem was. Because if you know what the problem was, you can fix it.”

“But what if I can't-?” Bradley hums, and Carole snaps.

“Oh, of course you can fix it.” A residual dry sob splits her thought in half, “You two could fix world hunger if you did it together. Your dad’s right. She still loves you, even if she thinks she can’t. You might have to help her see that she still can, Brad. That she still does.”

“But I could lose her.” Bradley concludes glumly, “And I can’t lose her. So I can’t tell her the truth. I- I thought I lost her today." His shoulders tighten as he remembers, "I was trying to stay awake the whole night, just in case she tried slipping out before morning. But she caught me, and she-” He lets out a sob that hurts his throat, “She held me, and she lulled me to sleep, and I’ve never felt safer. But then I woke up, and she was gone, and the bed was empty, and- and I ran out to see if I could find her, and she was just in the hall. Talking to Mav. But I thought-” He can’t finish his sentence, shaking his head instead and starting over, “I can’t tell her the truth yet. I’ll lose her.”

They’re all running in circles, and it’s making Carole insane. She bites her lip to stop from confessing, then rises to her feet, Nick following after her.

“Sleep on it,” She suggests, smoothing out the bedsheets where she’d sat,  “And she’ll be back by the time you wake up. I think you should tell her,” She repeats, “She loves you, Brad. Goodnight.”

Nick takes his leave as well, nodding at his wife’s words. Bradley slumps back against his- your pillow, one hand already snaking beneath the opposite one to retrieve your picture.

Nick barely waits until Carole’s shut the door behind her before turning on her, “What the fuck?”

“Move,” She urges in a hissing whisper. She grabs his bicep, dragging him away from the door. She doesn’t feel safe talking anywhere in the house, paranoid that Bradley could hear, but she pushes NIck down into a seat at the table, and huddles close to him to murmur, “I knew.”

“You- you what?” Nick’s voice goes up in volume, and Carole is sure she spits a little bit when she shushes him.

“I knew,” She repeats, “I knew she left him. She told me at the hospital.”

“Why am I never in the loop?” NIck groans, looking thoroughly confused, “Wait, so you knew the entire time? Like, from day 1?”

“Day one of the hospital,” She nods, “She didn’t tell me when it happened, she waited until I asked where her ring was after his crash. I knew he was gonna ask her, but he told me to keep it a secret ‘cause he wanted to do a big reveal. But I noticed she didn’t have it on in the hospital, and I asked, and she burst into tears. Started ramblin’ about how she was freaked out, and how she fled, and wasn’t ever brave enough to come back.”

“Why,” Nick presses, “Why was she freaking out? What’s the ‘can’t love you anymore’ bullshit?”

“She got scared after Javy went down,” Carole recalls, “She said it took her back to your crash, and she realized all of a sudden that it could happen to Brad, too. And she didn’t wanna do that again, 'didn’t wanna sit in a hospital chair and wait to see if someone she loved had stopped breathing. So she’d been freakin’ out since Javy crashed, then all of a sudden Bradley proposes, and- bam,” She sighs, “Everything fell apart. I mean it was a recipe for disaster, the crash made her pull away, and it made him want to be closer than ever, and they never addressed it, so when they clashed, it just-” She rubs her temples, staring up at Nick through her lashes, “Unraveled. But this is good. This is- this is really good, Nick. He wants her back, he wants another shot. And so does she. We’ve been talkin’, and she wishes she’d never left in the first place. I told her she should confess later tonight, now- that was before I knew he already knows, of course. But- but they’ll talk tonight, and she’ll tell him what happened, and she’ll ask to fix things, and he’ll want that, too. It’s gonna be okay, Nick, they’re gonna be okay. They’ll be fine by the end of the night, I guarantee it.”

“My head is spinning,” Nick scoffs, dragging a hand down his mustache and tugging lightly on the ends, “So- so they both know, they just don’t know they know, but we know that they know, and we know that they don’t know they know, and-” He gives up, “I don’t know.”

“That’s about right,” Carole nods, eyes bugging for a moment before she heaves another sigh, “I think she’s tellin’ Mav about it now. He overheard us talking about a secret, that secret. So when he volunteered to go shopping with her I figured he was gonna ask. And I don’t think she’d lie to him, I don’t think she could if she tried.”

“This is all so goddamn complicated,” Nick laments, clearing a crumb off of the table, but ultimately just flicking it onto the floor, “We were easy, babe. I mean, we locked eyes and I was having visions of you in a white dress.”

“Stop,” Carole gushes, but a smile is growing on her face, “Love is complicated sometimes! Doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

“I’m just glad none of this shit happens to us,” Nick grins, holding out a hand, “You and me, honey, we’re easy love.”

“Don’t say it like that!” Carole gushes, though she gives him her hand willingly, “What are we, hippies?”

“I said easy, not free,” Nick laughs, “Nothin’ about our wedding was free, baby.”

“But you’d pay it all again, for me, wouldn’t you?” She narrows her eyes unamused at him, and he squeezes her hand.

“Honey, I’d spend every cent to my name just to be able to marry you over again.” Nick swears, and it’s the truth, they both know it. Carole gives him one of her sweet smiles, the one he’d fallen in love with, and each has renewed hope for you and Bradley. You’re in love just the same as them, and if they’ve got it worked out, so will you.

--

Grocery shopping with your dad is harder than you’d remembered, because now you’re the adult paying with your own money, and he’s the child throwing cookies and chips galore into the cart. You’re surprised you have any money left when you exit the supermarket, but you’re sure to pack 3 bags of Bradley’s cheetos into your stash. You wonder how he’s doing; if he’s asleep, if he’s fighting his parents to stay upright while they try to get him to rest, if he’s suddenly remembered everything he’d forgotten and now they’re helping him pack his things.

The thought of him leaving you makes your stomach burn white hot with fear, and you consider speeding home. But the load of groceries you’d gotten might have depleted any money you’d be able to pay the fine with, and you’re not keen on going to prison. So you and your dad drive home within the speed limit, and he helps you carry the bulging bags inside.

You’re simultaneously desperate to see Bradley, and hoping that you don’t when you walk in. On one hand, you hope he’s resting, napping in your bed like you’d asked him to. But on the other, if you don’t see him when you walk in, that means he might not even be in the house, and maybe you were right to catastrophize, maybe he’s gone, maybe he’s left you and asked his parents to drive him to the airport, and maybe he’s blocked you and told his teammates how awful you are, and-

And his parents are sitting on the couch. They turn back to smile at you when you come in, and both stand to help you with your bags. Your dad insists that he can manage all five that he’d lifted out of the car, but you’re eager to let Nick steal two of yours, and Carole takes the last one even though you tell her you can manage.

You busy yourself with putting the groceries away, and your dad busies himself with raiding the bags for the snacks he’d picked out. You’re sure he’ll slip a $20 into your purse later, he’s never let you pay for him, but he loves teasing you like he’ll dine and dash.

“Alright,” He announces, with hands full of junk food, “I’m outta here. I’m gonna head back home, I need to stock my pantry, then make dinner.”

“And that dinner wouldn’t be mint chip oreos, would it?” Carole raises an unimpressed brow at him and his junk food stash, and he rolls his eyes fondly at the woman.

“No. Penny has requested a very complicated pasta dish for tonight that I need at least three hours to make in case I mess up the first batch and need to restock ingredients to try it again. I think she’s testing me.”

“Good luck, buddy.” Nick claps your dad on the back, “Hope you pass.”

“Yeah,” Your dad’s eyes go wide, a sigh escaping him, “Me too. Y/N, uh-”

“Tell him.” Carole cuts in, eyes as intense as you’ve ever seen them despite the smile on her face. You know she means business, and you don’t blame her.

Nick doesn't look confused by her cryptic, vague statement, and you assume she’s filled him in. You suppose it’s only fair, because your dad knows now, too, but you hadn’t planned on making it a public affair. Nick doesn’t seem to despise you, though, in fact he sends you a reassuring smile as he herds Carole to the door.

“We’re going, too. He’s asleep,” He nods toward your bedroom, “Tell him, honey.”

Your suspicions are confirmed; he knows. You nod hesitantly, watching them pile into the entryway and take their empty grocery bags with them. All except for your dad, of course, who packs his snacks into one. You’re hit with an overwhelming sense of being blessed, not necessarily with divine miracles, but with people who just might be them. They’ve come, they’ve given you food, love, and encouragement, and they’re leaving so that you can have a chance at fixing up the best part of your life. 

If they notice your teary eyes when you wave goodbye, they don’t mention it.

The groceries are put away, and you have no desire to take down the decorations. Not when you’re aching with fatigue, not when your emotions have gotten the best of you for two weeks. You don’t have much energy for anything anymore, and you haven’t since you’d left Bradley. You wonder, if the worst happens, and he doesn’t forgive you, will you ever stop being tired? Is it Bradley that energizes you, is it the love that he’s so ready and willing to give you that keeps you going? 

You’d like to think you’d be able to pick yourself back up, dust yourself off, and move on with your life, but after twenty years of loving Bradley and being loved back by him, you know this is the only life worth living.

You drag your exhausted limbs down the hallway, cracking open the door to find that Nick was telling the truth - he’s fast asleep.

He’s on his stomach, his cheek squished sideways against the pillow. He’s snoring lightly, a sound that you should despise, but that prompts a grin over your face. You feel nothing but soft, sweet love for him in this moment, your snoozy boy.

You’re more than happy to crawl in beside him, barely remembering to take your shoes off before getting beneath the sheets. It’s warm beneath the blanket, the safe kind of warmth that draws you in with the promise of drowsy cuddles and whispered proclamations of love. You do just that as you snuggle up to Bradley’s side, adoring the way that he moves in his sleep to curl around you even if he doesn’t know you’re there.

“I love you, Brad,” You whisper against his temple, kissing his hairline and the prickly whisps that sit at its border. He’s roused from his sleep from how close you’d spoken to his ear, and it looks physically painful for him to open his eyes. He does, though, lifting his face so that his chin perches on your chest. He blinks blearily at you, once, twice, probably drowsy out of his mind. 

“Hm?”

His voice is groggy, thick with sleep. It’s the most endearing sound you’ve ever heard, and you crane your neck forwards to bump your nose into his as you repeat it: “I love you, Brad.”

His typical puppyish aura becomes more cat-like as he smushes his face into your own, nose smearing against your skin and forehead bumping into yours. He hums deep in his throat, happy to have you beside him as his hands wind tightly around your waist.

“Love you too, babe.” He rasps, “Gonna sleep w’me?”

“Yeah,” You whisper, smoothing his hair out of his face, “Lay down, baby, I’ll rub your back.”

His only reply is plopping his face back down into your chest, cheek chubbed up where it rests on your shirt. He’s out like a light almost as soon as you start raking your fingers up and down his back, ghosting them over his skin like you’re trying to do it without him knowing.

You know he’s sleeping by now, you know he doesn’t need you to keep doing it, but the fact that you get to feels like a gift, and you occupy yourself with the task of scrawling random designs over his back for a few minutes longer. Swirls and waves turn into a curve down his spine, and then you connect it with an identical one over his other side; a heart. One heart becomes two, then three, and all of a sudden he’s covered in them. You’re carving paths into his skin, digging heart-shaped trenches down his back like you’re walking the same path in a dirt road every single day. You wonder if he’d look good with them tattooed, an expansive mural of your love on his back for only you to see.

All of a sudden hearts aren’t enough.

I

LOVE

YOU

You trace letters into his back, your nail scraping slightly on every curve of your finger. He shivers slightly at the bottom half of the ‘y’, and you bite back a giggle as he nestles further into you.

You don’t stop there. 

YOU

ARE

CUTE

It seems only appropriate with the way he’s snuggled up to you like a sleepy puppy, desperate to press every inch of his body against your own. 

I

LOVE

YOU

Again, then- your breath catches in your throat as you remember.

I’M

SORRY

Tears prick at your eyes when his arms tighten infinitesimally around your waist, a sleepy hum oozing from his throat like sweet honey, slow and sugary. You’re worried he’s awake, that he’s caught onto what you’re doing, and wants to talk. You know you have to tell him, you just don’t want to.

But he settles without so much as the blink of an eye, and you wait only a quick second to start using his back as your diary once more.

I’M

SORRY

I 

WISH

I’D

STAYED

I

LOVE

YOU

You feel absolutely pathetic. Tears have leaked down your face, sideways into the bases of your ears, creating an uncomfortable wet sensation that you’d rather there not be. You’re trying to hold in a sob so that you don’t wake him, but it hurts. Your throat aches from holding in your anguish, and your chest aches with the knowledge that everything you’ve done with Bradley over the past few days could be your last time doing it with him. This morning could have been your last morning with him, this nap could be your last nap with him, the kiss you strain to press to his forehead could be the last kiss you ever give him. It’s all too much, and your finger tapers off in its pursuit of tracing your love letters onto his back.

You wrap your arms around him instead, a difficult position to maintain while simultaneously trying to sleep, but all you want is to drift off in his embrace, just in case this is the last time you’ll ever do it.

Between your exhaustion and your despair, the former wins out. You finally drift off into a dreamless sleep, burdened by the ever-present threat of this being the last day you can pretend like this. You’re talking tonight, whether you like it or not, and the thought plagues what could have been a very relaxing, rejuvenating nap with your lover.

Instead you wake up possibly less refreshed than before, bleary eyes blinking despite a pounding headache behind your eyes. The sun has shifted over the blankets you’re under, and Bradley isn’t on top of you anymore, he’s by your side. You’ve swapped positions, and you don’t know how he’d managed to maneuver you onto his chest without waking you, but he’s always exceptionally careful with you, so you’re sure you’d slept like a baby the entire time.

He’s still in his fuzzy pajamas, and you wish you were, too. He’s holding his phone above your head, presumably scrolling through social media, or news headlines he’s forgotten about since his accident, and his eyes are fixed on the phone screen. You have a quick second to admire him before he realizes you’re up, and your eyes rove over his features. His lips are quirked up delicately in the corners, his mustache dipping down ever-so-slightly over his bottom lip. His eyes hold a fond look that reminds you of honey, paired excellently with his caramel-colored bedhead.

His color has returned completely; if you didn’t get the call that he’d been an inch from death, you wouldn’t know now. But you know his injuries are more internal, and you’re worried about how he’s laid you over his chest. 

You’re in no rush to let him know you’re awake, so you ogle him some more. He swipes left a few times at the screen, and you think he might be looking between pictures. Of what, you’re not sure, maybe a tiktok slideshow of cute cats or of Hangman’s nieces at the playground. You’ve never met them, but the amount of pictures he sends of them makes it feel like you yourself gave birth to them.

He gets a notification and glances at it, but when his eyes drop back to the subject on the screen, they go lower than he’d intended, and he sees your open eyes blinking owlishly at him. In a second he’s forgotten about his phone, but he keeps it in his hand to avoid dropping it on your head.

His face doesn’t light up, it blooms. There’s no jarring explosion of happiness, no sudden firework show of joy, but his grin widens smooth and steady, like a vine crawling a garden wall. His eyes ooze with adoration, and you’d kiss them if that wouldn’t hurt him. His free hand tightens where it had been thrown around your waist, and he looks residually sleepy as he smiles down at you. He must not have woken very long ago.

“Hi, angel,” He hums, and you feel his slightly raspy voice vibrate through his chest. He leans forward to nudge his nose against yours, and you reciprocate like a cat in need of affection. You wriggle up by his side, peering at his screen while simultaneously nestling yourself against him. 

It’s a picture of the two of you together.

You’re at the zoo, and there’s a giraffe behind you, eager to see if Bradley’s phone contained any lettuce. It didn’t, but after the animal had tested its theory Bradley’s right speaker wouldn’t work until he got it replaced. It was a very pricey snack. He gives you a moment to admire it, then swipes to the right, back to one of the pictures he’d been looking at before. It’s you pressed up against the glass at the penguin exhibit, one of the little birds curiously following your finger against the glass. He swipes rapidly now, all through photos of you, most containing him as well.

You realize he’s looking only at pictures of you, and your heart just about stops in your chest. It doesn’t know whether to swell with love for the boy, or shrivel at the knowledge that he might delete them when he knows the truth. 

“Oh, Brad,” You breathe, “You’re looking at pictures of us?”

“Mostly us. A lot of just you, though,” He admits, “I’m trying to jog my memory.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You nod, “Is it-” You break off with a yawn, “Is it working?”

“No,” His smile dims, “Uh, not really. I don’t know. It’s like- I want them back, so this chunk of my life isn’t just missing. But I almost died- and,” He stops, eyes no longer focused on the screen, merely staring through it, “I don’t think I want to remember that.”

“I’m sorry, Brad.’ You tell hum, because you are. You’re sorry he can’t remember anything, you’re sorry he will remember everything, and you’re sorry you remember everything. “I’d swap with you in a second,” You promise, but it means more than you let on. You yearn for amnesia, you wish you didn’t have to remember making the stupidest mistake of your life and losing your love. You’d fall out of the sky if it meant you could forget what you’d done to him that night.

“I wouldn’t want you to,” He smiles sadly at you, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll get through it. Whatever happens, s’long as I’ve got you.”

You hope he doesn't hear your voice tremble when you reply, “Yeah. You've got me.”

Bradley resumes scrolling through pictures, and his lips quirk up more at each image he sees.

“Remember this?” He angles the phone further towards you, “When Mav almost fell off of that fishing boat, and my dad almost fell in trying to stop him?”

“And your mom almost fell in laughing,” You grin, tucking the expression into his neck, “We should go fishing again, sometime.”

Hope blooms in his chest at your suggestion. He’s being extra endearing today, intent on reminding you just how much you used to love him. He wants to make himself worth it for you, he wants you to want to love him again, and the fact that you’ve suggested a future outing gives him hope that you might share that future together.

“We should,” He agrees, swiping to see a photo of you in his baseball cap, holding up a fish you’d caught with a giddy grin.

“Good catch,” He praises you, rubbing his arm up and down your side, “He looks surprised.”

“I would be too, if I ate a worm and it dragged me to some giants in a boat,” You shrug, “Plus, I let him go after. He was fine.”

“You’re a very ethical fisherman,” Bradley muses, “My dad only let his go because it flopped out of his hand.”

“He’s accidentally ethical,” You giggle, “The tail almost slapped him in the face.”

“I would have paid a fortune to see that,” Bradley gushes, his fingers digging ticklishly into your side, “Let’s hope he fishes up an old boot or something this time.”

“Like in a cartoon?” You rear back to laugh incredulously at Bradley, “I don’t think people really fish up boots, Brad.”

“I’ll chuck a boot in the lake just to see his face,” Bradley promises, and the giggles you two share harmonize the twang of your heartstrings.

The next photo Bradley swipes to is a New Year’s Eve one, your traditional pose with a much more confident kiss, this time around. It’s from this past year, and you marvel at how much you’ve both grown since the awkward teens you’d seen earlier.

“Oh, that reminds me,” You gush, almost kneeing him in the already-cracked ribs as you scramble for the photo album on the bookshelf, “Let’s look at these, Brad, they’re so cute.”

He almost points out the failure in your logic, even if he does want to see the pictures. He nearly asks you why you’d look at incredibly old pictures to jog recent memories, but then all of a sudden he’s hit with the thought that those might help his case, and he shuts up. He wants you to remember how much you used to love him, or, if you still do, how it was once worth it for you to do so. How once upon a time, you could love him, and maybe if you see enough baby pictures of the two of you together, loving each other since you’d opened your eyes for the first time, that maybe you’d decide you could love him again.

You rush back to the bed with the cover already cracked, though you show it off with a gooey grin, “You were enamored with me from the moment you saw me, Brad.”

“Of course I was,” He laughs, ringing his arm around your neck to hug you tight to his side while you flip to the first page. He peers at your scrunched-up baby face, vague memories of kissing your nose flashing through his mind from when you were younger, and it was the only thing that could get you to stop crying.

“You’ve always been the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” He swipes a finger over a photo of you together, stroking it along your cheek where he was feeding you mushed-up green beans. “See? I was so entranced I didn’t even notice you were about to kick me.”

He points to your tiny foot, clothed in a onesie with dogs on it, and poised ready to fire. You’d bet money that right after the photo had been taken, you had launched your foot into his knee, and you hope little Bradley wasn’t brought to tears over it. 

“Sorry, baby,” You hum, voice just as sticky-sweet as your kiss is against his cheek. He leans into it, but you’re not expecting it, so you smear a bit more spit over his face than you’d intended to. However, when you laugh incredulously and try to wipe it off, he wriggles away from your shirtsleeve, insisting on keeping the mark.

“No! I fell out of the sky three days ago,” Bradley gripes, head held high, “I get to keep all of the gross kisses you give me.”

“I’d launch a gross kiss attack if I wasn’t worried about hurting your ribs,” You lament, settling back into his side, “Oh, Brad, look at this one!”

It was your first Halloween together. Bradley’s sporting a yellow hat in the picture, with bear ears on top, and a red shirt over his chubby baby belly. His pants are the same shade as his hat, and you’re the Piglet to his Winnie the Pooh as you sit in a pink onesie and matching ear-hat in his little lap.

You tug the photo out of its sleeve, reading Carole’s neat inscription on the back: Bradley cried just a few minutes after we took this, because we looked away for a second and when we turned back he was feeding Y/N a snickers bar. We didn’t mean to yell, but we freaked out and spooked him, and he wouldn’t stop crying unless we told him he could finish the rest of the bar. Winnie the Pooh does NOT like raised voices.

“Crybaby,” You tease, and Bradley groans.

“I was a kid! They yelled at me! Of course I cried!”

“Poor baby, you just wanted to feed me chocolate,” You croon, turning sympathetic at the sight of his exasperated brown eyes, “You’ve always been good to me, Brad.”

“Always,” He promises, squeezing you tighter, then pointing at the next page over, “Aw, look at this one. They dressed you up as the turkey for thanksgiving.”

“We fell asleep in front of the fire,” You recall, not from memory but from the stories you’ve been told, and the pictures you’d seen, “We were both milk drunk and stuffed from dinner.”

“Still nappin’ together all these years later,” Bradley grins, leaning in to brush his nose against yours.

“Let’s nap together forever,” You sigh as you nestle your cheek back against his arm. His confidence builds the more you suggest a future together, and he thinks that what his dad had been telling him might have been right; maybe you do still love him, maybe it’s not a lie. Maybe you do just need a little convincing, and he’s happy to show you how great he can be for you.

“Here’s my first snowman,” Bradley hums, pointing to a picture that’s exactly as it was described. You’re on vacation together and he’s the snowman, bundled in a thousand layers of winter gear and still shivering from the cold as Nick piles snow around him in three tiers. You're sitting off to his left, eating a chunk out of his icy side.

“Your little nose is so red!” You croon, nearly melting in fondness for baby Bradley, “He was so mean!”

“I’m surprised I didn’t get frostbite. I bet my mom gave him the lecture of a lifetime for that one.” Bradley snickers, “Mav probably had to take us both into the other room so she could swear.”

“She swore at me the other day,” You recall, and Bradley’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“What? Why?”

You realize too late that you can’t really tell him the reason, but you shake your head dismissively, “It was when we were at the hospital. She was just stressed, ‘s all.”

Bradley’s half worried about his mom, and half worried about you. He’s concerned that his accident had stressed her out enough to swear, something she never did, but he’s concerned that it had been at the wrong time for you, that she’d only made your secret situation worse by snapping at you for something unrelated. 

You just hope he never finds out that she’d known from the start.

“Look,” You prompt, “There’s another picture of us napping in here, right-” You flip through a substantial amount of pages, “Here.” 

Your finger lands on a photo of you and Bradley at fifteen, harboring crushes on each other almost too big to hide. It seems like everyone but yourselves had known you were going to get together, and you flash your dad’s inscription on the back at him with an exasperated smile.

Next time, I’m making them leave the door open when they study.

You’re definitely not doing anything scandalous, but years in the navy had taught your father to be hypervigilant around men. He’d rather you be with Bradley than absolutely anyone else in the world, of course, he knew the boy was kind-hearted, but he was still a boy, and it was difficult for him to be one-hundred percent on board with the situation while you were still teenagers.

You’re slumped against each other on the bed, being held up only by the other’s opposite weight. You’re balanced precariously, and if either of you had shifted slightly, you’d both have toppled. But it seems you’d dozed off while reading a Physics textbook, and you don’t blame yourself at all. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt the phrase ‘walking down memory lane’ to be more accurate. Each turn of the page, each rectangular piece of photo paper tucked beneath its cellophane sleeve really does transport you back in time, and you feel like you’re holding Bradley’s hand while strolling through your memories. You want to steer clear of the dark, gaping hole on his own lane, and to do so, you flip to his twenty-first birthday photo.

It’s not one that your parents had taken; they don’t know it exists. Bradley’s crouched beneath you as you spit a shot into his mouth, probably spilling some onto the gray fabric of his t-shirt. You had still technically been twenty at the time, and you’d had his birthday party at your mutual friends’ apartment, with much less strict of a bouncer than the one at the bar. You’d both gotten hammered that night, and he doesn’t remember much, but Bradley can confidently say no one else got their shots by drinking them out of your mouth.

“That was hot,” Bradley informs you, “We should do that again soon.”

“Yeah, I don’t think concussions and alcohol mix,” You scoff, knocking your head against his own, “Ease up on the booze, Brad.”

“Oh, you’re such a worrier,” He teases, knowing full well you’re correct, “Look, there’s graduation.”

The college photo of you two is printed smaller here, and if you were an artist, you could draw it from memory. Every detail, the sprig of grass stuck to Bradley’s left sleeve, the slight squint to your eyes from the sun, everything is memorable because you’ve stared at it so many times. 

“This is the one I keep under your pillow when you’re deployed,” You admit in a soft murmur, “It’s my favorite.”

Bradley means to respond to that, he really does. But there’s nothing he can think of saying that would be sufficient, nothing that could possibly convey the love and adoration he feels for you. Nothing that could tell you how lucky he is to love you, and to have been loved by you for all these years. And how terrified he is to lose you. The word deployment strikes a sour chord in his chest, and all of a sudden he’s wondering how he ever left you in the first place. Being at home while you were at the grocery store sent him into a spiral, he doesn’t know how he ever made it months without seeing you, hearing you, holding you.

“You gave up the Naval Academy for me,” You recall when he doesn’t respond, your voice quivering like a thin rope stretched tight, “I told you I was scared to go by myself, that I'd miss you, and you withheld your application from the academy. For me. Brad, you gave up your dream for me.”

It doesn’t take him any time at all to respond this time around, because the answer is easy and honest: “That’s not true. You were my dream, angel. You still are.”

“Brad,” Your face crumples, and you have to bury your face in his shoulder to withhold a sob. You clutch at the fabric of his shirt sleeve, heaving a heavy sigh once you’ve collected yourself, “I love you, Bradley. I- I want to fill out the rest of this book with you,” You reach for the pages, sticking your thumb into the spot between them where the album goes thin. You flip to the empty pages, “I want to sit in a home with you and stuff this book full with pictures of us all old and gray.” You sniffle, “I want to be with you forever, I- I want our grandchildren- no, our great-grandchildren to take the last pictures in this book,” You blubber, “I- I just love you so much.”

I love you.

I want to fill out the rest of this book with you.

I want to be with you forever.

I love you so much.

He hadn’t planned on rushing it. He wanted to draw it out, spend the next few days, weeks even, showing you how loved you are, and hoping you crawl out of your shell again, reciprocate the way you used to. But he can’t wait anymore, not now that you’ve told him you’re in this for life.

“Sweetheart,” Bradley gropes for the first drawer of his dresser with a blind, frantic hand. He locates the ring in no time flat, his other arm nearly crushing you into his side as he yanks the jewelry free of the sock it had been hidden under. He shoves it towards you, unceremonious, rushed, and messy, but with all the tender sweetness in his heart:  “Y/N- Marry me?”

just a reminder in case you didn't read my author's note: life got in the way and I wasn't able to include their big talk in this part, but i've just extended it to a fourth part that will be posted next week! i'm sorry to keep you waiting longer, some very heavy stuff has gone on in my life lately and it was very hard to work on this. i hope you enjoyed, and i hope you understand! i'm sorry again for not finishing it when i said i would </3 buttt did you see the plot twist coming? i'm eager to hear what you think >:))))

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[whyse7vn]

CLINGY -

[ kim seokjin min yoongi x reader ]

SEOKJIN -

jin: i’m going to bed now if you even care

resting my body after a long hard day at

work if that’s even important in your eyes

almost died today if you even give a shit

it’s 2 am and i’m JUST going to sleep without you (my girlfriend) messaging me (your boyfriend) goodnight if you even care a little bit

you have 5 missed calls from jin!

jin: be honest do you care?

y/n: no

jin: you didn’t say gn

y/n: it’s 2 am

jin: no u right you don’t even care that’s what’s up

y/n: what

jin: no lol i get it whatever

y/n: what do you want

jin: a goodnight would be nice

y/n: it’s 2 am

jin: yeah???

y/n: am

as in morning

jin: awww who died

here for u 💓

y/n: morning not mourning

jin: can you say gn pls so i can sleep

you have 1 miss call from jin!

y/n: CAN YOU FUCK OFF

jin: CAN YOU SAY GN

y/n: no joke ur 5 seconds away from being blocked

jin: just say you don’t care about me at this point 😭

y/n: i do not care about you at this point

jin: um

y/n: at all

jin: ok well that bit wasn’t necessary

i think i got ur point

y/n: i’m glad

jin: i guess i’ll just go to sleep then

without a goodnight from my lovely girlfriend

sighs

you have 10 miss calls from jin!

y/n: jin

jin: yeah

you can no longer send messages to this contact!

jin: 😧

YOONGI -

yoongi: miss you

delivered 5 minutes ago

yoongi: wow that’s crazy i’ll just jump off a cliff then

y/n: that was kinda dramatic

yoongi: sorry do i know you?

y/n: get a grip

yoongi: reply faster

do you even love me anymore?

y/n: well

yoongi: that’s not funny

y/n: do you see me laughing?

yoongi: take it back

y/n: i take it back

love when ur clingy >.<

yoongi: i’m not clingy

y/n: you just threatened to kill urself cuz i didn’t reply to you instantly

yoongi: that’s basic respect

i message you

you reply within the next second

y/n: that’s unrealistic

yoongi: no it’s not

you do it most of the time

lately you’ve been slacking tho

y/n: excuse me????????

yoongi: ur excused

y/n: and if i slap you?

yoongi: i’ll enjoy it

y/n: YOONGI OMG?/):).£

LMAOOOO

are you dying????

what is wrong with you

ur acting like you love me or something

yoongi: don’t say things like that

makes it seem like i’m a bad boyfriend

y/n: looks left looks right

yoongi: i’m a good boyfriend

y/n: looks at audience looks back at you

yoongi: stop

i am a good boyfriend

y/n: yeah!

yoongi: and if i slap YOU?

y/n: GASP

good boyfriends don’t threaten domestic violence

yoongi: neither do good girlfriends

y/n: are you saying i’m a bad girlfriend?

yoongi: looks left looks right

y/n: how low of you min yoongi…

i am NOT a bad girlfriend

yoongi: ur not a good one either

so where does that leave us

y/n: i’m the best?

yoongi: lol!

y/n: is this ur fucked up way of calling me a good girl

yoongi: ok where tf did you get that from?

ur really bad at reading the room

y/n: i’m in no room

yoongi: it’s a saying 🙄

y/n: ignoring you just rolled ur eyes at me rn

i’m SAYING we should kiss

yoongi: wow so clingy

y/n: what can i say!!!

yoongi: can you acknowledge what i open our conversation with pls

y/n: no

yoongi: ok kys bye

y/n: ur clingy

yoongi: k

now come home

—

idk the jin one was the first draft for the jin part in delivered i think and idk where the yoongi one came from just found her has said hey this is ok ig… thought they kinda gave the same vibe so posted them together better than nothing right? SIGHS sorry idk WHO WANNA BUY ME A NEW PHONE WHO⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

i’m spiralling and have no storage pls forgive me

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @earth2ela @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae @jksgirlfrl @yeetedandoboi

[feliciasharpclaws]

✯ 𝑺𝑶𝑪𝑰𝑨𝑳 𝑴𝑬𝑫𝑰𝑨

we met because you didn't understand the language | m. verstappen

max verstappen x fem! ex kpop idol! reader

faceclaim: seo soojin*

summary: max moves out of monaco after breaking up with kelly and goes to a new destination where he would meet an ex (not so ex anymore) idol that would changed his life.

a/n: hi. my first language is spanish, not english, so there are most likely spelling errors. if you like it, please tell me so i can keep writing things like this. also this probably will have several parts idk.

warnings: use of the translator for the korean, mention of j*s verstappen (cause that man needs a warning himself).

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, charlesleclerc and 935,184 others

maxverstappen1: goodbye monaco you have such nice moments on my mind. i'll see you again at the monaco grand prix.

view all 638,108 comments

charlesleclerc: bon voyage mate! 👋

↳ maxverstappen1: thanks charles

↳ username: LESTAPPEN!!

↳ charlesleclerc: no.

↳ maxverstappen1: no.

username: 'goodbye monaco' he's leaving?

↳ username: seems like it

↳ username: i would leave too if i had too much memories with my ex girlfriend there

danielricciardo: i can't believe I had to found out this way man 😑

↳ danielricciardo: just wherever you're going don't die there

↳ christianhorner: be safe, you still have a contract till 2028, max

username1: @/christianhorner you should not remind your son he still has a contract. 🤷

↳ username: max is not horner's son

↳ username: i know but horner seems more like a dad to max that j*s

landonorris: see you soon mate 🙂

maxverstappen1 liked this comment

yourusername

liked by yourfriend and 189,385 others

yourusername: 또 만나 네요 :) we meet again :)

view all 463,167 comments

username: y/n!!!!

yourfriend: 괜찮아서 다행이야 glad to see you're okay

username: MOTHER IS BACK!!!

username: we missed youu 😭😭

username: she looks beautiful

username: does this mean she will debut again?

↳ username: i hope so

↳ username: i don't think so

↳ username: yeah i think that in korea her scandal still is something bad

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, christianhorner, charlesleclerc and 653,167 others

maxverstappen1: hello japan, i hope you have good intentions with me.

view all 367,482 comments

username: JAPAN⁉️

username: does he even know japanese?? 🤔

danielricciardo: amazing pic man!

↳ maxverstappen1: i'll thank the photographer

↳ username: EXCUSE ME??

↳ username: HE'S NOT ALONE??

↳ username: perhaps he met someone fron there

username: that looks like the chill part of tokyo

↳ username: nah it looks more like nagoya

↳ username: hold on where's nagoya??

↳ username: it's like hour and a half away from the suzuka circuit

yourusername

liked by yourfriend, em1lian and 983,027 others

yourusername: new city, new me

view all 102,152 comments

username: am i crazy or is the 3rd pic the same one max verstappen recently posted???

↳ username: who?

↳ username: a formula one redbull driver

username: mother and that vroom vroom guy 🤔

↳ username: NO.

↳ username: am i the only who kinda ships them? 🤨🤭

↳ username: probably yes

username: em1lian like max emilian verstappen??

↳ username: you right now:

a/n 1: I FINALLY GOT TO POST THIS! (honestly i forgot it was on my drafts). I used the woman who pulled me into kpop CAUSE SHE'S ICONIC AND SOOO MOTHER!! Her name is SEO SOOJIN, right now she's a soloist (she used to be on a girl group), she has a beautiful voice and she's an amazing dancer. If you like go check her out on Spotify or wherever you want.

a/n 2: is most likely that there's gonna be a second part, i don't now when am i gonna post it *cough start writing it cough* but i'll try.

That's all thanks for reading :) likes, reblogs and comments are always apreciated <3

[blitzwhore]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cieloclercs]

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 6/? (read part 5 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

warnings. yet more angst, you guys asked for more suffering and i’m here to (hopefully) deliver 🫡, y/n is lowkey a bad bitch in this one, i would say you might start feeling sorry for charles but y’all are evil so i really don’t know 😭

pairing. charles leclerc x artsy!reader

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. OK I LIED it’s not the last part… originally it was supposed to be but you all asked for more charles suffering and i didn’t feel like there was quite enough in the first draft so… here we are !! 😃 just a side note tho, this IS going to have a happy ending for y/n and charles (bc i’m weak like that) so if that’s not what you guys wanted i’m sorry i tried i just can’t do it 😭

four weeks later…

liked by pierregasly and 2,736,936 others

charles_leclerc 26 with ma famille 🤍

view all comments…

arthur_leclerc tu es vieux 😨 / you’re old

lorenzotl Joyeux anniversaire petit frère ❤️

*charles_leclerc liked this comment

leclerc_pascale 😍❤️

*charles_leclerc liked this comment

pierregasly joyeux anniversaire calamar ❤️

*charles_leclerc liked this comment

carlossainz55 feliz cumple cabrón 😘

*charles_leclerc liked this comment

scuderiaferrari Happy birthday, il Predestinato! ❤️

*charles_leclerc liked this comment

joris_trouche joyeux anniversaire 🫶

*charles_leclerc liked this comment

username charles is so dry just liking all these comments and not replying 😭

username he’s probably depressed y/n’s not forgiven him yet

*arthur_leclerc liked this comment

username ARTHUR STOP EXPOSING HIM 😭🤚

username not even an y/n like? yikes 😬

username i genuinely think it’s over like, y/n’s not even here?? and she’s not with the leclercs either?? she ALWAYS spends his birthday with the leclercs 😭

username i really don’t want it to be true but i think you’re right 🥲

username the irony of charles abandoning y/n for a girl and then when he comes crawling back she just straight up ignores him 😭😭

username she’s truly an icon

username i wish i was as strong as y/n 😔

username i want to know what went down at the club tho?? what did he say to her to make her miss HIS BIRTHDAY??

username idk but whatever it is it must have been bad 😭

username whoever said ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’ was so real because look at charles’ eyes the man is CRUSHED 😫

username i want to be at this family gathering

username i can literally feel the tension through the screen lmaooo

username hahah i can just imagine what pascale has said to him 😭

username confirmation she likes y/n more than charles 😌

username as she should !!

yourusername

seen by charles_leclerc and 14,726 others

liked by f1gossip and 8,637 others

formula1updates Anyone else getting deja vu? 👀 Charles Leclerc crashes out of Q1 for the United States GP — he’ll start tomorrow’s race from P17 on the grid 😬

view all comments…

username i don’t even know what to say anymore

username i want to keep defending him because i know this is all because of the y/n situation, but he really needs to learn to put his personal problems aside when it comes to racing 😭

username normally i’d tell you to shut up and let the drivers do their jobs but in this instance you’re totally right 🥲

username well his reaction says it all doesn’t it?

username can we please just forget this season ever happened 🫠

username it started so well though 😭 just these last few races have been an absolute shitshow :(

username he’s never going to learn is he

username this is genuinely getting embarrassing now. y/n’s moving on with her life, yet charles is so hung up on his mistakes that he’s always going to let them get in the way of racing 🙄

username if he wants to be world champion he really needs to start changing his mentality 😔

username did you guys see him in the post quali interviews? i think he was crying ☹️

username WHAT no i feel so bad 😨

username i want to say he deserves it but this feels kind of cruel now…

username he’s literally brought this upon himself. it’s just karma. if you can’t deal with it, go cry somewhere else 😒

username in that shitbox he’ll be lucky to even get in the points :(

username am i the only one that has a really bad feeling about tomorrow?

liked by charles_leclerc and 68,735 others

y/nsart i can’t believe i’m saying this, but my exhibition ‘flow’ is now being shown in the fine art gallery of monaco! i want to take the time to thank every single one of you who has supported me over the years 🤍 i’ve been working to achieve this dream since i was a little girl, but it’s YOU guys that have helped make it happen !! 😘 thank you all once again from the bottom of my heart x

view all comments…

leclerc_pascale Personne ne le mérite plus que toi, ma fille ❤️ / no one deserves this more, my girl

y/nsart je t’aime maman 🥹 merci d'avoir toujours été là pour moi / thank you for always being there for me

username omfg their relationship is so wholesome

username i love them 🥹

username the way she literally loves y/n more than charles lmaooo

arthur_leclerc THAT’S MY SISTER EVERYONE

arthur_leclerc SI FIÈRE DE TOI 🫶 / so proud of you

y/nsart arth stop you’re making me cry 😭

username LMAO WHAT HAPPENED TO ARTHUR SLANDERING Y/N EVERY CHANCE HE GOT

username the switch up is INSANE 😭

arthur_leclerc just showing some appreciation for my favourite sibling 😌

username PHAHAHAHHA IM DEAD

username he’s truly picked his side 😭

lorenzotl @arthur_leclerc excuse moi

y/nsart @/lorenzotl the truth hurts 😘

username crying they’re so iconic

yourfriend can’t believe i get to call this absolute GODDESS my best friend 🥹

y/nsart 🥹🥹 je t’aime tellement

username the most talented girl 💗

*y/nsart liked this comment

username so proud of the growth you’ve shown in the past couple of months ❤️ you deserve all the happiness and success in the world, my love !!

y/nsart thank you so much i love you 🥹🥹

username this girl really has no haters huh

username why should she? y/n has already proven she’s one of the nicest, most talented people on the damn earth, EVERYONE should be a fan

username say it louder for the people in the back !!📢📢📢

username when i say i would sacrifice my SOUL for y/n’s happiness i’m not joking this woman is the love of my LIFE

y/nsart aww i love you 🥹🥹 but please don’t actually do that 😭

charles_leclerc proud of you, amour

username ugh not this bitch again 🙄

username excuse me AMOUR?? charles PLEASE you’re embarrassing yourself 🥴

username charles bffr y/n doesn’t want you here 😭

username he’s not giving up is he?

username this is just getting embarrassing now

username charles is taking grovelling to a whole new level 😂

yourunifriend si belle ❤️ / so beautiful

y/nsart ☺️☺️

username HELLO??

username EXCUSE ME SIR WHO ARE U?? AND WHY ARE YOU CALLING MY WIFE BEAUTIFUL??

username wait wait guys is this the dude that was on her story? 🤔

username omg it might be

username i can HEAR charles sobbing rn 😭😭

username there is SO MUCH going on in this comments section like 😭😭 charles is back AGAIN basically grovelling at y/n’s feet??? y/n’s (potential?) bf has appeared out of the blue??? plus that adorable arthur x y/n sibling moment??? i am LIVING FOR IT

liked by yourusername and 2,647,936 others

charles_leclerc COTA23, streaming now on all platforms 🖤

view all comments…

username BABE WAKE UP NEW CHARLES SONG JUST DROPPED

username oh shit he’s depressed

username we all know y/n did the post friendship break up depression better but slay ig

username y/n liked… 🫢

username make up coming soon? 🤷‍♀️

username girl bffr

joris_trouche on repeat 🔁🖤

username we love supportive bf joris 🥹🫶

username joris >> any other wag

arthur_leclerc i wonder who the muse is 🤔

username ARTHUR STOP 😭😭😭

username pls he’s so unserious 😭

username charles will never get any peace as long as arthur’s around to remind him who’s fault all of this is 😔

*arthur_leclerc and charles_leclerc liked this comment

username ENOUGH BOTH OF THEM???

username i can’t figure out if this is another round of grovelling or accepting defeat

username hope it’s the first 🤞🤞🤞 i need my otp together

username nooo charles doesn’t deserve y/n

username i mean charles’ songs have always been a little bit depressing but this is taking it to another level 😭😭

username he’s in his obligatory heartbreak era and i hope it never ends 😈😈😈

username stoppp the funniest thing is the majority of people saying shit like this ^ are actually charles fans im dead 😭

username we wouldn’t be true fans if we didn’t wish him a little suffering when he fucks up 🫶🫶

username i don’t think that’s how being a fan works but you do you i guess 😭

leclerc_pascale 🖤 Vous savez ce qu'il vous reste à faire, Cha / you know what you need to do, cha

*charles_leclerc liked this comment

username uhm excuse me?? 🤨🤨🤨

username mama leclerc coming in with the cryptic comment…i’m sensing drama…

username @/leclerc_pascale WHAT DOES IT MEAN??? 😫😫😫

➜ part 7

taglist: @cxcewg @incoherenciass @formula1mount @allywthsr @meabhcavanagh @driveswiftly13 @zzblooda @gaslysainz @be-your-coffee-pot @siovhanroy @hwienv @xoxozoedagyal @alireads27 @glow-ish @eviethetheatrefreak @nmw-am @buendiabebeta @laneyspaulding19 @imthebadguyyy @marialovesf1 @f1wintermoon13 @topaz125

if there’s something wrong with your url please let me know!

ps if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just leave a comment asking on this post!

[artxsticsuper]

[AU] 4☆Town: BirdTown & Headcanons

The long awaited 4*Town AU is finally here! I honestly forgot I had this in my drafts. Although I’m not so active in the fanbase anymore, I do want to share this in case if I don’t return any time soon. But the designs of each member may still be in development. So enjoy!

Also, if I do return to the 4*Town fanbase and expand on this AU, I might add more headcanons to this post in the future.

About BirdTown is an AU where each 4Town member is a bird species linked with their spiritual and symbolic meaning based on personality. All members are able to shapeshift into their bird and they have their own outfits based off of them which will be posted later in the future. I’m still working on their designs!

The personality traits are part of my headcanons for all members but they are specifically linked with the bird itself.

NOTE: This AU is only made for fun just to get an idea of what bird each member would be related to. A good portion of the headcanons are a bit random but they are created to closely fit with the members.

Robaire - Indian Peacock

Personality: outgoing, confident, friendly, dramatic, expressive

Symbolism: royalty, confidence, strength, power, divinity, respect, honor, beauty

Headcanons

✰ Robaire is an absolute show-off; like the peacock, he’s the type to constantly put on a show by expressing himself with what he does. One thing Robaire and peacocks have in common is being able to attract others.

✰ His outfit and feathers match his signature color but still has similar colors to the Indian peacock.

✰ 100% a Charmer

✰ He’s somehow able to fly with his big ass tail and he loves carrying people bridal style when he does.

✰ Robaire is romantic and an absolute flirt. He can become a tease by brushing you with his own tail feathers or revealing his entire chest if you do manage to become his soulmate.

✰ He sometimes even bounces his pecs 😳

(it’s rare for him to do that publicly because his fans go absolutely apeshit when he does that)

✰ If you do tend to stare at Robaire (specifically his chest, abs, feathers, etc.) for too long, he would say things like “My eyes are up here mon amour.” or “See something you like?” This man likes to tease you moments before you snap out of it [if you get flustered, he finds it cute so don’t worry about apologizing].

✰ Robaire can be extra, but he means well. He doesn’t do this in an arrogant manner.

✰ He can sometimes be dramatic, sometimes in order to gain the band their attention; if any of the other members pluck at least one of his feathers, he will either act like he’s in pain or release a full out moan [Robaire mostly does this jokingly]

✰ But the chances of him moaning are low since he only does that when the feathers are pulled too hard.

[T would probably yank the feathers on purpose just to get him to moan 😭]

*in a whiny voice* “Broooo, be careful with the feathers!”

“Dude, I didn’t even pluck them that hard!”

✰ Robaire can be overprotective with his tail but he doesn’t mind if anyone wants one of his feathers as long as they don’t overdo it. He will tell them to be careful because he is sensitive.

✰ Speaking of his tail, he has a big one 👀

✰ The tail length is around 6’2” if you count his full body (I think he would be around 5’9”). Because Robaire is still a human, his tail is longer than the average length of a peacock.

✰ When touching his tail, it usually feels soft. This man takes care of himself 👍

✰ When Robaire opens his tail feathers, he will do a “mating call” (specifically just starts singing) to grab people’s attention, especially if he finds someone he likes or his future soulmate. If his target is uninterested or annoyed, he will eventually stop.

✰ Robaire can still somehow dance whether his tail is opened or not, but it becomes more challenging due to the extra weight.

Jesse - Mountain Bluebird

Personality: Intelligent, territorial, patient, gentle

Symbolism: Joy, fertility, loyalty, fulfillment, hope, prosperity, serenity

Headcanons

✰ Jesse is a gentle, but slightly overprotective soul. Bluebirds almost enjoy people’s company as long as they’re not a threat to their territory.

✰ His outfit is covered in different shades of blue, mixed with white and a little bit of cream.

✰ Usually, Jesse would wear light teal sapphire jewelry.

✰ His forearms would usually be covered in paint but they have small little patterns that resemble a mini version of his feathers.

✰ His kids absolutely LOVE playing with his wings. They sometimes even use them as blankets whenever Jesse lets them sleep in his room.

✰ Jesse would sometimes carve little drawings into trees. Besides being able to do pottery, he is an artist.

✰ Jesse’s feathers are definitely soft, especially after he takes a shower and dries himself.

✰ He’ll let you touch his wings but he might start blushing if you end up touching around his marginal covert feathers. He gets caught off-guard by it and he may be a bit ticklish in that region.

✰ The size of Jesse’s wings are large enough to cover up most of his whole body.

✰ His feathers can puff up when he’s in a flustered, alert, or embarrassed state.

✰ If you were to be his soulmate, he finds it adorable when you bury your face in his chest or his wings 😭💕 It makes him feel safe and it urges him to protect you at all costs.

✰ He would sometimes make gifts for you! (Decorated cups, mugs, some of his feathers, etc.)

✰ While he’s alone, he loves singing with other birds.

✰ He has the ability to mimic some bird species, usually by his whistling.

✰ Jesse can also be as extra as Robaire, but only to a degree. He can be neutral about what fits with his style and tries not to do too little or too much.

✰ He loves the rain! If he finds out you also love the rain, he’ll offer you to dance with him 👀 Jesse can dance without the rain but he has a thing for it (unless it’s heavy rain cuz he’ll get fussy)

✰ We all know Jesse smells like literal milk chocolate and wet rocks right? His scent is all over his body, including his feathers. It rarely leaves him.

✰ Speaking of rocks, he has a habit of skipping them in lakes while he’s either bored or watching the view.

Tae Young - White Dove

Personality: Friendly, loyal, empathetic, gentle

Symbolism: Love, peace, freedom, renewal, transformation, hope

Headcanons

✰ Tae Young’s a sweetheart, no exceptions… UNLESS you piss him off; he can spit out a handful. Doves are usually gentle and friendly as they represent a symbol of love, peace, renewal, and spirituality.

✰ This is a bit of an obvious pick since Tae fosters injured doves. But he definitely gets along with them and other birds. He also gets along with other animals 💕

✰ Tae’s whole outfit mainly consists of white and pastel shades of pink.

✰ Similar to Jesse and doves, Tae is also gentle for the most part.

✰ He is usually quiet but doesn’t mind a quick chat with a few people.

✰ As much as he is usually not the type to be aggressive, he can get irritated easily when people test him, including those who treat him like a child.

✰ Definitely an animal guy 🐾 He has the ability to charm other animals. He’s kind of like the Pied Piper of New York who was able to summon raccoons with a flute.

✰ His wings are mostly white but the feather tips are pink!

✰ Some of the feathers on his wings look so fluffy, they almost resemble fur rather than actual feathers.

✰ Tae has a thing for hanging out in trees. One time, he tried rescuing someone’s cat from a tree. It took a few tries but he eventually got in the hang of his own grip.

✰ If you tend to spot him in places like parks, do expect him to sometimes feed birds he comes across.

✰ Just like Jesse, he loves singing with birds alone. He may have a few of them sitting on his shoulders or his head.

✰ Bro somehow manages to be friends with the whole entire forest regardless of how much effort he does.

[He might secretly be Snow White 😳]

✰ Tae can get startled easily; when in this state, his feathers puff up similar to Jesse’s.

✰ He has a thing for lotus flowers! If he manages to give you one, TAKE IT.

✰ Literally the only reasons why he has doves on his head is because 1. His hair is so damn soft and 2. He would occasionally put seeds up there while feeding them.

✰ Similar to Jesse, Tae makes gifts for you! However, he would occasionally send little messages, especially if he’s willing to hang out with you.

Aaron T. - Scarlet Macaw

Personality: Playful, active, outgoing, energetic, affectionate

Symbolism: Power, visibility, good fortune, grace, ease, peace, trust

Headcanons

✰ Aaron T. is an absolute goofball and very extroverted. Scarlet macaws are known to be energetic and can get affectionate when being with loved ones.

✰ Bro’s outfit and wings are FILLED with bright colors. Very colorful and stylish ✨ he’s like a walking rainbow.

✰ It is uncommon for this man to be quiet for at least a day. If you see him being more than quiet than usual, then something is wrong. Unless, he is alone or just bored.

✰ T can be loud at times, but he can pipe down a bit after annoying the shit out of people, especially if he is annoying any of the other band members.

✰ Just like Robaire, he can be a show-off with those bright ass colors on his wings. They pop out a lot better during the day.

✰ He Doesn’t mind getting messy, but still takes care of himself.

✰ Speaking of messy, HE CAN PAINT. I can picture him doing paintings for and with his siblings.

✰ He loves taking people out on flights! Keep in mind, he can and will go fast. That’s his usual speed but T can go slower or faster when asked.

✰ T may go overboard at times while flying but he makes sure anyone he takes out is safe.

[This man is not up for lawsuits or jail time 😭]

✰ I can picture him flying with all of his siblings. Just like Jesse’s kids, they love playing with his wings! Except, they’re a lot more energetic. They would be constantly begging T to fly with him until he accepts it. But trust me, it is rare for him to say no.

✰ He can be a bit of an attention seeker; everyone can be minding their own business and then T would try something like balancing himself on a skateboard with only his hands or try out anything he finds on the internet. He does this publicly, but mostly with the band group because he already knows how his fans behave.

✰ Expect him to be a drama king like Mr. Robaire over here; a drink or something he’s enjoying spills on him or the ground, he’s devastated. He’ll be dead inside.

✰ He sometimes takes his siblings on flights! Not anything too extreme though.

✰ Like Tae, T has a thing for trees. Like he has no problem going up a tall tree and then proceeding to hang upside down or do several positions on the branches.

✰ T can be very impressionable when trolling the fuck out of people. He won’t be saying shit like the n word though because that’s an immediate death wish 💀

[His race isn’t specified but I think him being hispanic works best]

Aaron Z. - Victoria Crowned Pigeon

Personality: Shy, territorial, docile, intelligent

Symbolism: Prosperity, fertility, transformation, peace, faith

Headcanons

[This was a bit of a hard pick since there is not a lot of bird species I could find with the personality that matches him. So to any Aaron Z fans, sorry if you don’t like this bird or if you don’t think it fits him.]

✰ Aaron Z. can be a bit shy and territorial at times, but can still handle socializing with people. Victoria crowned pigeons are usually docile by nature and can be gregarious (sociable).

✰ He has a crown! Each side contains a set of crest feathers.

✰ Z’s outfit is covered in shades of dark blue to purple and hints of burgundy.

✰ His feathers are shiny, especially at night ✨

✰ When they’re soaked, they look even more beautiful. Luckily, the feathers aren’t shiny enough to blind you if he’s ever surrounded by light.

✰ Z would be the type to be annoyed sometimes when Robaire gets extra with his looks, even in situations where it is unnecessary.

✰ HE LETS YOU GIVE HIM HEADPATS 💕 btw, if you ever give him head pats or play with his dreadlocks, he’ll lose his shit (in a good way). Now that’s when you bring out the sweet side of him. He’s almost like a cat because don’t get me started on the kind of noises he makes 😭

✰ The tips of Z’s dreadlocks are dyed white and purple to match his feathers.

✰ I can see Z and Robaire combining their feathers and swapping their outfits. They’re both similar but Robaire shows a little more skin than Z.

✰ Similar to Robaire, Z is also a charmer.

✰ His voice; borderline, ANGELIC. I can see him doing a little serenade with you, kind of like that one scene from The Book Of Life

✰ He definitely takes care of his own feathers [All of the members do usually take care of their feathers]

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hi, i hope you are having a good day! I wanted to ask for writing tips, though sorry if I'm not too specific. You see, i notice you tend to show so much personality of characters, especially in the way they speak. Do you have any advice on how to write dialogues and how you give each person a distinct voice? Maybe also how you manage to show certain characteristics of a person (like flirty, playful, confident, shy, etc) through the way they talk? Thank you very much in advance, hope I'm not bothering you, and feel free to answer any time, of course if you want and have the time🩵

Ehh, once I find my writing tips I will reblog this - I made a kind-of-not-really-masterlist when it comes to my writing tips - (as always, please keep in mind: I study biology which means I am currently not taking any language courses, I haven't been in an English class for ages, so, yeah, I may not be the best person to give advice).

Usually, my writing process is pretty easy to put into words - that's the only reason why I was able to give some sort of writing tips in the past. When it comes to dialogue, though, I am not so sure how to explain it.

I usually follow certain "rules" regarding structure or the use of stylistic devices etc. I've mentioned that in my prior posts (which I will reblog once I find them 😭), but for dialogue, there isn't really a guideline (not to my knowledge at least).

Which is why I mostly picture a movie scene with the setting and the characters I want to write and the dialogue just uhh happens. (I am so sorry that is such a lousy explanation.)

But maybe it's more useful to use an example (this is from a draft):

"You're quitting?" the villain asked and the hero nearly jumped out of their own skin. They had had quite the day and the last person they had expected to see in their own living room was the villain.

"Jeez- yes-" They felt their pulse in their throat and when they set down their plate, their fingers shook. Right. They hadn't told the villain.

It was stupid that they felt - to some degree at least - obligated to tell their nemesis that they weren't interested in wearing the cape anymore. In all honesty, that feeling of obligation only existed because the hero wanted some comfort.

"You're quitting?" the villain asked again and the hero only frowned softly.

"Yeah."

"Bullshit."

"No, I am done. I am done with this." In return, the villain let out a huff and crossed their arms in front of their chest.

"You can't just quit," the villain said, as if they had any say in this. It was refreshing, though. Most people had encouraged them. Hell, their parents had begged for years, colleagues called them incredibly lucky and friends only sighed in gratitude.

But the villain didn't seem to accept this.

Here is all the dialogue:

"You're quitting?"

"Jeez- yes-"

"You're quitting?"

"Yeah."

"Bullshit."

"No, I am done. I am done with this."

"You can't just quit."

So, the very first thing I try to do is to decide on the hero's and villain's personality (sometimes that changes in the middle of writing, so I go back and rearrange the dialogue etc.). First of all, it's important to decide how much the characters are talking.

Because, not only the quality but also the quantity of dialogue can tell you much about a character's personality. About their characteristics, their maturity, their age even. (That can also be subverted for comedic effect, though. A child being mature and talking like an adult can be quite funny.)

Different quantities can also create a certain power dynamic, for example between a superior and a subordinate. But that doesn't have to be.

Are they talking a lot? Are they rather quiet? Do they use long and complex sentences? Or are their answers very short and clear?

A very quiet character may be shy but they can also be intimidating - actions speak louder than words, after all. An intimidating character might not need to give a long speech to explain themselves. Their words aren't supposed to be questioned and conversation might be something they deem unnecessary.

How characters talk pretty much depends on your creativity.

A flirty character might try to interpret a lot into simple actions to frame them suggestive ("I bet you showed up just to see me."), they might make a bunch of assumptions ("You missed me, didn't you?"), they might be a very bold character ("Let's give that chatty mouth of yours another task.").

Shy characters can tend to talk very little or try to avoid conversations - that doesn't have to be the case, though. Some shy characters can be very chatty and social, but when confronted with a certain subject (e.g. their own accomplishments/interests or romance), they might lose their confidence and with that, all their words.

So, there isn't really a rule like a confident character is xyz. A confident character can be xyz but they can also be abc. It totally depends on the characters you're writing. Try to observe people you know. How do they act? How do they speak? Would you say they are confident? Shy? Flirty? Mean? Kind?

Above, you can see that the villain doesn't ask once but twice if the hero is quitting and even when the hero confirms this twice, the villain still simply says "Bullshit."

This already tells us the villain doesn't believe or doesn't want to believe that the hero is quitting. That goes even further when the hero says they are done and the villain tells them "You can't just quit."

The villain is clearly agitated about the hero quitting. So, we have a somewhat (co-)dependency here or at least some attachment from the villain towards the hero (because quitting = not fighting the villain = leaving the villain). That already tells us quite a bit about the character dynamic. When we look at the characters independently, it's quite clear the villain is very persistent about this (asking twice + telling the hero they can't quit) and the hero is at first shocked the villain is there (jeez-) but still willing to answer their question. The hero doesn't explain why they quit, they simply say "yeah" or "I am done with this." So, they either don't feel the need to talk to the villain about it (which they could have told them, like "it's none of your business") or they don't want to talk about it because they are upset.

(It's the latter.)

As you can see above, dialogue works better when you attach some action/description to the scene you are writing.

For example, when the hero realizes they haven't told the villain: They felt their pulse in their throat and when they set down their plate, their fingers shook. Right. They hadn't told the villain.

So, telling the villain is difficult for the hero. Why is up for your interpretation 🤭

"You're quitting?" the villain asked again and the hero only frowned softly. In this line, the hero frowning softly can be interpreted as confusion. Maybe because the villain is being very persistent and the hero is somewhat surprised by this...idk idk...

"No, I am done. I am done with this." In return, the villain let out a huff and crossed their arms in front of their chest. Apparently, the villain finds this action ridiculous which is why they say "You can't just quit."

Ultimately, I tried to put this into words. Like I mentioned before, I am not thinking "oh, yeah, the hero is upset so I will write this action and this as dialogue" but instead I direct the scene in my head and write it down.

Nonetheless, I really do hope this could help you in some way. Please tell me if there's something incoherent or illogical. Or ask if you have another question.

Thank you for asking!

[nvuy]

How do you write so well? I'm trying to get into writing because I YEARN to create, but it is very difficult. Do you have any tips? I try and create, but it feels like there is a brick wall in my brain 😫 I also struggle to come up with ideas 😭😭

oh worm thank you so much im so honoured… i don’t want to just say ‘practise,’ even though that is half of quite literally improving in anything.

i am going to long post now. you’re welcome. this is my little guide to writing. in no way am i saying my writing is perfect and world class five stars, but this is just some things i learned along the way that helped me get better!!!

now this is all assuming considering you read my works that you also want to write reader inserts, but even if that’s not the case, i think all this stuff applies to normal writing as well.

what i do like to think is that ‘good writing’ is very very subjective. for example, i prefer much more philosophical pieces, ambiguous endings, extensive world building, and things like that, and i like to put it in my writing.

however, what you may like about my writing could be what someone else absolutely hates. not everyone can be bothered to read 4 pages on a heavy description of a quiet deserted street in the rain, or a dusty old library , or the bustling atmosphere of a cafe. some writers like to do scenarios without fully developed plots. some do.

WRITING IN A NUT SHELL

what really helps is to find where you lie on this spectrum. do you prefer overtly poetic descriptive writing, or straight to the point, no beating around the bush? or does it depend?

i know it’s sounds taxing to write heavy descriptions and worldbuilding and this and that, but if you like to read it, chances are you may also like to write it yourself.

this is a tip i lowkey thought was common sense, but i’ve spoken to moots on discord and other platforms about it, and a lot of writers just… don’t know about it?

basically it’s that A First Draft is a First Draft. this has been said time and time again. j.r. tolkein didn’t write LOTR in a day, rowling did not write the entire harry potter series in one shot. nobody did that.

as well as this, my first drafts never start out as fully fledged stories. most of them look like this:

notice the obnoxiously large gap in between? yep! two entirely different scenes, but under the same concept. you don’t need cohesion in your drafts. that comes with time. get all your ideas down first.

my first drafts are awful. they’re absolute dogshit. most of the time, i abandon a lot of my works altogether. but i never delete anything, because sometimes i may come back and suddenly get inspiration again.

most of my first drafts look like this:

notice how it lacks with everything. there’s no flavour here. it’s incredibly dialogue heavy, and it’s clearly supposed to have some sort of surreal feeling to it.

come back to it later only when i feel like it and rewrite it only when you feel like it:

same concept, same exact scene, but now it has more emotion. because i’ve written it a second time, or maybe even a third, or fourth (anymore than that, and im sorry, but drop it. it’s doing you more harm than good). so many people hit this writers block because they want their first draft to be perfect and it won’t ever be.

don’t focus on the itty bitty details. get the idea down first. you can always come back later. it really really helps to get out of ruts and stuff.

another thing: You Don’t Need To Start With Writing Fanfics Right Away. and i wouldn’t recommend it. not doubting you, or any other young bright-eyed writers, but fanfics are gruelling work that require lots and lots of planning.

i would honestly recommend getting started and finding comfort with one shots and/or headcanons, or drabbles, or whatever else short fics are called, because they require a lot less dedication, and it’s a lot more fun, because you can spring from one idea to another. majority of my works are short fics for a reason. it’s a lot easier to write, and i personally find it more enjoyable :) try it out!

IDEAS: WORLDBUILDING

(this next segment is assuming your fic wants to take place in a different area than canon) (otherwise, check out descriptions/images/videos of the place your world is supposed to be set in!! same idea!!)

if you’re unsure about worldbuilding and what exactly this place you’re creating is supposed to look like or how it might function, browse pinterest! there’s so many real and/or fake & rendered places on that site. is your area really cold and constantly snowing? search up some art with those key words. it could help you gain a clearer image!

let’s use an example: say the world im building my fic is based in a very cold, always snowing, always icy town. we go on pinterest, have a bit of a look around, and then we go Ooh this looks interesting!!

this is a painting by alexander andriyanov.

who are these people? where are they? what’re they doing? is horseback and carriage their primary mode of transport? do these people have access to vehicles like cars? do cars exist in my world at all? what are the surrounding buildings? etc etc.

TLDR: what im trying to say is if it helps you, look at something, listen to music, watch a movie, and then ask the question How Do I Make This About Me?

this speedpaint by darek zabrocki helped me get an idea of what snezhnaya in my multi chapter fic on ao3 was supposed to look like. obviously snezhnaya isn’t released in genshin just yet, so it allows me a lot of creative freedom in that regard.

you can always always use other people’s works as inspiration. why do you think so many songs these days use samples from older tracks? it’s basically the same thing. obviously, don’t downright copy, that’s plagiarism, but seriously. if you’re struggling to create this world in your head, pinterest is your best friend.

IDEAS: PLOTS & THE CENTRAL CONFLICT

in terms of coming up with actually plot ideas, i said it before and i’ll say it again. movies, shows, games, other people’s stories, other fanfics/books, paintings and other forms of artwork, history, etc.

if you’re writing a fanfic, most writers like to take the canon route, and you’re welcome to do that.

if you’re worried about your own ideas being lacklustre or you can’t think of anything, but the canon storyline is good for your fic, canon divergence is always fun!

for example! i haven’t posted it here, but i always did have this idea of a neuvillette centric fic based on the love letter he received in one of the world quests. so you take something that happened in the game, and then you ask AGAIN: How Do I Make This About Me?

in terms of thinking up an entirely different idea or concept or prompt or whatever you want to call it, there’s honestly no right or wrong way of doing it. it’s really, really difficult though. i have so many ideas that are more suitable for one shots that fully fledged fanfictions.

again, read books you like. read other people’s works. read lore of the fandom you’re writing about, or better yet, sometimes i go off of a fleeting thought that a random NPC said at some point in the storyline that had little to no effect on the story.

what constitutes as a good plot and a bad plot is a matter of opinion. as long as there’s evident improvement (or the opposite, if that’s your fancy) of your characters in your story, whether that be their personality, relationship with others, or whatever, then you’ve successfully written a cohesive narrative.

how most of my works start is actually because i randomly come up with one scene in my head that haunts me. i call them Brain Rots™.

for example, in my scaramouche fic on ao3, the scene that started the entire thing was of some sort of solider that presented a ring to the doctor in a very cold and barren wasteland.

and then i asked, what is the significance of this ring? is the solider injured? should the doctor care? why are they there in the first place? where is this place? where do they go after this?

hopefully you get the picture.

TLDR: figure out what makes your Brain Rot™ about the particular scene that’s playing on repeat in your head, find your inspiration through any sort of media you enjoy consuming that you find directly links to your ideas (because most likely if you enjoy something, you’ll be inspired by it more than you would with something you actively don’t like) (and this ‘media’ ranges from pictures, real life anecdotes/stories, video games, other fics, music, art, etc.), ask questions (How Do I Make This About Me), and then answer them yourself!!!!

and also just practise and practise and practise!!! you will subconsciously develop new skills by consuming media and reading other people’s works that you really like. it all comes with time :) !!!!!

[definitelynotshouting]

fic writer interview!

shamelessly yoinking from @karliahs bc this looks fun as hell to do :]

How many works do you have on AO3?

32 fics total, between my main and rough draft pseud!! which feels like a really small amount, honestly-- i think my private WIPs list is MUCH higher 😂😂😂😂 if we're counting my very first (and very abandoned) ao3 acct too, then that number is bumped up to 35!!

What's your total AO3 word count?

163,211, and a good 65k of that was written this year somehow??? according to my statistics ._. lowkey crazy to think about

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

paid for it with all of my blood (BNHA | 8,452)

at times so self destructive (BNHA | 4,554)

lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) (HC/LIFE | 3,618)

or we can just have conversation (MSA | 1,834)

the art of rawgabbitry (BNHA | 1,609)

if youve been following me since my bnha fics in 2018 you deserve a veteran's discount

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i used to answer every single comment i got, honestly, unless it came by years after i posted it-- the only reason i dont as much anymore is because it gets REALLY overwhelming for me to respond to everyone after the initial barrage 😅😅 the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak etc etc. but i do read every comment and appreciate them SO SO MUCH, and whenever i find one particularly moving or want to just reassure people im still working on something i'll respond to those :]

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

not counting the wips that just never got finished and left off before their main shit could resolve, id say at times so self destructive (BNHA)-- i mean i LITERALLY ended it with izuku potentially dying 😭😭😭😭

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

tbh i dont think i write happy endings so much as i write hopeful, bittersweet, or open-ended ones-- i tend to like catharsis more than fluff when it comes down to it. but out of my fluff fics i think honey it's starting to storm (HC) is one of the genuinely sweetest ive written. my runner-ups on that would probably be when the smoke does finally pass (TMA) and or we could just have conversation (MSA) :]

Do you write crossovers?

not typically, and ive never published any, but i am definitely not immune to them 😂😂😂😂 i think my most niche crossover ive actually written (never to see the light of day) was a Nine Lives of Chloe King and Supernatural fic that was the definition of self-indulgent rot. only a little less niche than that was a Mortal Instruments and Supernatural crossover (theres a running theme here lol) lying in snippets on an ancient google doc in my oldest gmail acct. reread that one recently and its shockingly coherent for being written in like. 2016. id even call it decent (though theres a lot id change up if i were writing it now)

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

idk if it'd be considered hate but once i wrote a fic inspired by someone else's when i was very new to ao3, let them know (i didnt know about the "inspired by" option back then), and they got mad at me in my comments section because in their words, "its better than mine" 😭😭😭😭💥💥💥💥💥💥

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

YOU COULD SAY THAT

as for what kind, honestly whatever strikes my fancy-- usually character/relationship studies, or just a fun focus on character intimacy. love 2 be asexual<3 love 2 write asexual sex<3

i had a discussion with my qpp recently about how in all honesty the smut i write is pretty tame, its just the character emotions written behind it that makes it feel a bit deranged. smth smth scarian is a chemical explosion. u understand

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge!!!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yeppers!! the art of rawgabbitry (BNHA) received a translation to Russian, which i always found a bit funny because rawgabbitry is. one of my least favorite works ive ever written, if only for the type of comments it tended to receive back in the day 😭😭😭😭

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

ive never managed it honestly-- i get a bit precious about my process, which can make it hard to collaborate on that level. but its something ive always wanted to grow enough as a writer to try :]

What's your all-time favorite ship?

not so much of a singular OTP type of guy as i have favorite pairings per fandom im in-- that being said rn its scarian :P

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

pretty much all of my dsmp wips honestly. i may surprise myself someday, but for now i just have zero urge to actually finish any of them

What are your writing strengths?

like my pal karliahs im gonna rip these from the comments ive received 😅😅😅 but id definitely say imagery is my strongest skill!! i have a very strong imagination, and tend to see fic scenes as movie scenes in my head which i then transcribe into written format. id like to say im also really skilled at characterization and realistic dialogue that captures character voices very well!! and frankly i just love emotional realism so much i cant NOT write it, its always leaking into everything i do

What are your writing weaknesses?

i tend to get a little too funky and abstract with my descriptions sometimes-- that can work for some scenes, but grounding everything so that it feels more real and makes actual sense to the reader is something i often have to do on the second, third, and final passes

also to every person who has to crack open a thesaurus to understand what i write, i am so fucking sorry😭💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

no thoughts beyond if its not a language you're proficient in you should probably get that checked over by a native speaker, just in case :P

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

fairy tail..... ff.net was a dark place

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

crying sobbing wailing as i desperately beg my brain to start writing that post-canon siffrin and odile relationship study. unfortunately i dont think i can have more than one longfic on my docket at a time so it shrimply must wait

What's your favorite fic you've written?

to the surprise of absolutely nobody, i'd have say lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) (HC/LIFE) :]

No obligation, but im tagging: @raichett, @kayawolfhorse, @boonbeenblade, @sillyfairygarden, and @grimfey !!! And anyone else who wants to do this ofc :]]]❤️❤️❤️❤️