#i know i say this all the time but it’s so crazy that my writing gives ppl the same feelings i get from reading fic

[saltynsassy31]

*drags myself through the floor and slams this down*

I present to you

FULLMETAL BARTENDERS AVIAN AU (name pending)

(Rant as to why I chose the White-throated Needletail as Blurr's bird and some minor AU lore under the cut)

And that's not all! It comes with a FULL FLEDGED COMIC!!!!!

I spent a whole fucking week on this

I haven't done a comic in 4 years now, I can't believe this is my come-back XD. Though, on that note, know that I probably won't be pumping out any more comics - not any time soon, at least. But I do got more stuff planned for this au! If you ask about it, I'll 100% rant about it LOL

Tw// ⚠️mild gore in the 3rd panel⚠️

While exploring the woods with his team, Swerve had an unfortunate encounter with a crazed hunter. In an attempt to escape, he got injured, but it seems he wasn't the only one caught in the crossfire...

.

.

Okay

So when you look up what the fastest bird in the world is, Google with show the Peregrin Falcom

But there's a catch

The Peregrine is only fast when diving

When it dives to catch its prey, it can go up to 389km/h

Which yeah, pretty fast

But when casually flying, it only goes up to 120 iirc

The Needle Tail?

It can go up to 170km/h

Some have even recorded going over 300! (Close to the Falcon's dive, I believe)

Additionally, these birds only fly. Their habitat is literally listed as "the air," and some even believe they sleep while flying! They only ever land to brood and mate, and then they're off again. Their legs are so short that, if they ground, they can't fly again because it doesn't give enough room to flap their wings.

It fits Blurr perfectly!

It also has a blue-ish colour pattern I can work with lol (it's green, but it looks blue, lol)

Though, also, he isn't 100% like the Needle Tail, just based off of it. I still want avians to be sorta their own species and doesn't have to be exactly like their bird counterparts cuz they aren't them, they're their own thing.

That said, Blurr is one of the shortest from Avians population, still.

They're pretty big.

Another trivial detail of the design!

I was stuck between having his arms be his wings or have them be separate

Until I saw a drawing where they had both, and I realised, "Wait, why isn't that done more often! That's so cool!"

So that's sorta what I did

It's mainly to catch small prey when grounded and to stay better perched up on trees since they're much bigger and having extra fingers helps a lot. Or when they're climbing against a tree to pick up fruits, it gives them an extra boost and can better hang from it

But they're pretty much useless besides that lol

Just neat lil design choice

Other lore stuff. The time in which the au takes place is vaguely modern? But with fantasy aspects? I still haven't decided lol

Technology exists, but not in the way we have it sort of deal, idk, this au is pretty bare bones right now, so go wild with it XD I don't mind it, I love brainstorming it with people. I know this au isn't as big or complex as some others out there, but it's fun, and I hope yall like it too fjsjajaj

[peachway]

My Fault: Lando's version <3

✦ characters - fem!reader x Lando Norris ✦ warnings - mention of drugs, bit violence and little blood                    ✦ word count - 4.1k

A/N - I do not own the plot and except for few, all the characters belong to Mercedes Ron. The London Nick has my heart and he's literally Lando Norris so I decided to write a My Fault: Lando's version <33 I have changed the plot just a tiny bit. And in the series i have a used nickname for the FEM OC, 'FRESA' (meaning strawberry in spanish) happy reading ✨                                                                

Third Person’s POV -

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and blueberry muffins filled the air as Charlotte platted everything with beautiful flowers. She wanted to make breakfast for her daughter all by herself. She knew Fresa was going through a tough time after her recent breakup, and Charlotte was determined to help her daughter heal and move on.

With a warm smile, Charlotte carried a steaming mug of coffee into upstairs, where her daughter was curled up on her bed, lost in her thoughts. The sight of her little girl made her heart ache.

"Hey, sweetheart," Charlotte greeted softly, placing the mug on the bedside table. "How are you feeling?"

She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and a faint smile touched her lips as she saw her mother, "I'm fine mom. I called Theo but he didn't pick." she sniffs.

"Oh it's okay, it's just a little break. This happens in long distance." Charlotte said stroking her hair

"Why does it feel like we have broken up?"

"It's going to be fine, give it a little time." Charlotte soothes her, "Now come on, breakfast is ready."

"Mom, I'm not hungry," Fresa said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Come on, baby," Charlotte coaxed, her voice soft but firm. "You haven't eaten anything since yesterday."

"Just the coffee is fine," Fresa replied, retreating further into the cocoon of her blankets.

"I have a surprise for you," Charlotte offered, her smile widening, a spark of mischief in her eyes.

"Come join me downstairs." She said.

Fresa finally agreeing slowly got out of bed and followed her mother downstairs.

"Oh wow these muffins are really good."

On the kitchen island was Fresa's bestest cousin, Chloe.

"Chloe!!" Fresa screamed, her face lighting up with immense joy. She ran and threw herself into Chloe's arms, the two girls hugging tightly, their laughter filling the room.

"Surprise!" Chloe giggled.

The joyous reunion then settled into a comfortable hum, all sat down for breakfast.

"Wow mom you made everything?" Fresa smiled, impressed by the efforts.

"I can cook you know!" Charlotte laughed.

"I did made the muffins...I well helped with the batter." she admits and to that everyone chuckles.

"So baby I was thinking," she began, "Chloe is here for 3 days. So you both can go wherever you like, whatever you want to do, you can go crazy....and since it's your vacations, you can go to London with Chloe."

"London?" she asked with wide eyes.

"Yes. You know to see your dad." she said.

"Mom?" Fresa protested because her and her father's relationship wasn't in very good terms.

"You love Chloe right. Dad loves you too. I know he's done some stuff but he loves you baby." Charlotte says, "And you can also surprise Theo!"

"I don't know mom." she mumbled, taking a bite out of croissant from her plate.

"It'll be fun." she encouraged.

Fresa was initially hesitant, eventually agree. She did need some fresh air. And above that, she wanted to surprise Theo so bad.

Just as they landed Chloe informs that her dad had to go out on an important meeting and he was out of state and it brought a sigh of relief to Fresa. She still had to face him via FaceTime, however.

"Flight was alright, princess?" Clifford asked, his image flickering on the screen.

"Yes Dad." she replied.

"I'm out of town so stay with your sister for some time hmm?" he said, "I'll be there in few days."

"Okay." she replied.

"Call me if you any problem at all okay?" Clifford smiles. "Yes daddy." she nods.

"Chloe.." Clifford calls out.

"Take care of her. I don't want her to be involved with those guys. You Understand?" He warned.

"Understood uncle." she smiled.

"What was that about?" Fresa asked as soon as the call ended.

"Nothing." she dismissed.

"Listen baby, my boyfriend and I have take some time off work and are we currently living in one his villa near the forest."

"Okayy.." Fresa nods.

"So I'm gonna take you there. But please don't tell this to your dad. Please I request you." Chloe says.

"Why?" She asks.

"Because my boyfriend's father is kind of a rival to your dad and it's very messy. So please.." said Chloe.

"It's okay it's fine." she nodded.

Within an hour they had reached the beautiful villa. It was too perfect, mesmerising and straight out of a fairy tale. The modern white architecture blended seamlessly with the verdant darkness of the surrounding forest. Inside, the air was cool and subtly perfumed with the scent of flowers.

The first thing Fresa noticed was a framed photograph hanging on the wall in the living room: Two boys, standing on a race track against a race car. She could see the intensity in their eyes.

"Is nobody home?" she asked as only the butlers were present.

"Well, Liam is at work, and I think his brother might be in his room." Chloe replied, He's a dick. Don't fight with him,"

"Why would I?" Fresa raised an eyebrow.

"He doesn't particularly have a good influence. He's a good guy, but don't get too involved with him, okay?" "Okay." she nods.

"You can change and relax a bit, then we'll go somewhere nice in the evening." She said removing a strand of hair from Fresa's cheek.

"Can I just go to my room and disappear with my books?" Fresa said.

"No absolutely not. I won't leave you in here like a gremlin rat." Chloe laughed.

Y/n puts on her bathing suit and decides of read her favourite book by the nice warm sun. She sat by the edge of the pool, her bare feet dangling in the water. She opened her book, the gentle breeze rustling the pages, it was very peaceful and soothing. She felt a little good after months.

But her calm thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, explosive splash in the water. The splash drenching her and the book. She glances over to see a grinning idiot in the water.

"Sorry!" he called out.

He propelled himself towards the edge. His broad shoulders slick with water. Dark, wet strands of hair clung to his forehead, and the sun gave his skin a golden hue. But his eyes— were the prettiest blend of green and blue.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"This is my house. Who are you?" he countered, hoisting himself out a little. The water cascaded down his hair.

Fresa’s eyes narrowed. "Either you're Liam or his...dickhead brother."

"Lando," he said, the grin widening. "The dickhead brother. I was told you were coming. Not so nice to meet you?"

"Fresa," she replied, with a curt nod.

"Wow worse than I imagined." He laughs to himself.

"Why were you on the swimming pool edge if you didn't wanted to get wet." he asked.

"I just wanted to read and now you ruined my favorite book." she said as water dripped from pages.

Lando's grin only widened. He came a little closer, "Come on, Fresa, lighten up. It's a pool, meant for swimming, not sunbathing with literary casualties."

The tension was broken by the sound of the back door sliding open. Liam and Chloe emerged, hand in hand.

"I get you two have met?" Liam chuckled, glancing at Lando. "Fresa, this is Liam, my boyfriend." Chloe introduced.

"Hi!" she smiles backed.

"Well her name is actually y/n but we call her Fresa since she was 2 because she loved strawberries.." Chloe explained.

"Strawberries seriously." Lando snorted.

"And that is my asshole brother." Liam chuckles with a playful jab at Lando.

"Are you done?" Lando sneered and dives back into the water.

Later at the brunch table Liam and Chloe discussed about the next plans since Fresa had come to spent her vacations there. Lando sat across from her, his wet hair now dried and curled, framing his face. He looked at her taking a bite of toast and smiled. Fresa rolled her eyes, trying to ignore him, and focused on her omelette.

"So we can go out for a nice dinner tonight." Liam suggested.

"Oh no listen bro tonight-" Lando began, but Liam cut him off, "No! Anna is coming today. You're not going anywhere."

"Who's Anna?" Fresa asked.

"His girlfriend." Chloe teases.

"Thank you for answering" Lando smiles mockingly.

"Lando you can't run from it. We're going out, dinner at 7. And you can't leave the house till then." Liam ordered.

"You're not dad." Lando retorted, standing up and leaving the table.

The evening approached and everybody was ready to go out. Fresa went with Liam and Chloe whereas Lando went separately in his McLaren. Fresa was nesteled in back seat, imagining Theo face when she’ll surprises him tomorrow and about all the things they’ll do together. It was cheery drive. But the good time was limited. Fresa receives a text from her friend who was in London, attached were the photos of Theo kissing another girl. Fresa's head started hurting and she couldn't control her tears as they overflowed her eyes. She didn't wanted to ruin the mood so she didn't say anything to anybody.

After reaching the restaurant Fresa tried to be composed and to stop her emotions but she failed. She stared at the menu, the fancy letters unreadable to her.

"Chloe?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Just then, Lando's phone rang, a sharp chime that cut through the restaurant's soft murmur. He excused himself and moved away from the table.

"Yes, baby?" Chloe asked "Can I go home?" she said.

"Is everything alright? You don't look good." asked Liam. "Just a headache," Fresa lied,"Can we please do this dinner later?"

Chloe squeezed her hand, her touch comforting. "Of course, no problem. I'll call you a uber." Her eyes, though, were sharp, searching. "But if there's anything at all, you can tell me, okay?"

Lando returned, his expression tight. "Listen, Liam... I have to go." "Where?" Liam asked.

"Work," Lando replied. "I swear to god, if you're again going to that bloody—" Liam began, but he cuts him off, "No, this is important. It's Lion. He called, he wants to meet at his place."

"Okay, go." Liam's shoulders relaxed slightly, "Wait, take her too," Liam ordered, gesturing towards Fresa.

"No. She can go by herself!" Lando shook his head.

"Lando!" Liam sighs.

"She's your girlfriend's sister, your problem not mine." He argued.

"Come on Lion's place is on the way to our home...go drop her home, then you can go wherever you want." Liam insisted.

"Fine." Lando rolled his eyes, "Come." he said to Fresa, his tone rather rough, offering no comfort, only a means to an end. The night, which had started good was now a mess of broken trust and forced companionship.

The silence in the car stretched. A little uncomfortable, as Lando sped away from the restaurant.

"So you like racing?" Fresa asked to break the silence.

"I loved it. Me and Liam both," Lando replied.

"That picture.." she said, remembering the photograph on the wall.

"It’s me and Liam. We used to go karting and racing together." Lando nodded.

"You don't go anymore?" she asked.

"No, I left. He made me." a shadow passed over Lando's face, "My dad." he said.

"Your dad?" Fresa looked at him.

"Please don’t talk about him. I don't talk about my dad," he said, his voice clipped.

"Why are you getting all prickly and irritated. Such a Typical spoiled brat." she said.

Lando's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. The car swerved slightly, and Fresa braced herself. "What did you just say?" His voice was low. "Aren't you a spoiled brat too? Doesn't talk to Daddy but is still here to meet him. She hates him but loves his money." He said.

"You know nothing about me," she said, her voice a low, tremor.

"You know nothing about me either. Yet you judged me. I'm not a spoiled kid" he countered.

"Okay leave it. I don’t know what I just said." Fresa gave up.

"Is this your way of apologising? Because you're terrible at it." Lando scoffed, the bitterness clinging to his tongue.

"Why should I apologise? I've been told you're a dick and you're kinda proving that right now." she said.

"You're the one who started it," he snapped.

"I told you to drop it," she hissed.

"I would have if you had simply just apologised." said Lando.

"I'm not apologising." Fresa glares.

"Get out." he suddenly says, his voice cold and flat.

"What?" Fresa stared at him.

"I said, get out of my car," he repeated, his eyes fixed on the road. "I'm not taking you home."

He pulled the car to the side of the road.

"You're not serious?" Fresa's eyes widened.

"Dead serious," he said, his voice hard. "Get out."

They were far from the city, on a dark, deserted stretch of highway.

Fresa glares him, she gets out of the car and slammed the car door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet night. Lando drives away leaving her all alone.

He rushed through the dimly lit streets. The roads seemed the type where all the illegal shit happens. He reached at the location and pulled up beside the Camaro there. Lion was slumped in the driver's seat, his face pale and streaked with blood. "What the hell happened to you?" Lando growled, his voice tight with anger.

Lion's palms were sweaty, his eyes wide with fear. "Nothing, man, I tripped. But forget that, I have a bigger issue!" He held up a medium-sized package, his hands trembling. "My brother told me to deliver it here and told me not to open it, but I'm an idiot. It's cocaine!"

"What the hell Lion! If you wanted money, you could've just asked me. Why are you doing these kind of things?" Lando cursed, his frustration boiling over.

"Forget about that, man, help me out now!" Lion pleaded, his voice cracking. "Don't go in there then," Lando said, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the pub.

"They'll kill me, Lando!" Lion cried, his voice laced with panic. "Well what do you want me to do?" Lando asked, his patience wearing thin.

"Come with me, I will mess things up! I need some support," Lion replied, his eyes pleading. "No!" Lando shook his head

"Okay, let's go back home. The person I was supposed to deliver this will come after me because this is worth 1 lakh pounds! And I will die just because you didn't come with him there!" Lion said, his voice rising in desperation. "God, you're so dramatic. Okay, Fine." Lando sighed.

Just as they were about to go in Fresa slid into the back seat of the car. "What the hell are you doing here?" The already angry Lando snapped.

"I left my phone in your car!" she countered, a simple shrug dismissing his expressions.

Lion, perched back. "That's your new girlfriend?"

"Shut up!" Lando retorted, his face flushing. "I had called you a cab and rather than going home you followed me?"

"Yes. I had the location on so it was pretty easy." she replied.

"You could have waited for me to come back home!" he scoffed.

"You irritated me so much, now I’ll irritate you. What are you doing here anyways?" She asked.

"We need to go—" Lion began, but Lando cut him off with a sharp glare. "This isn't a game, Fresa. You need to leave. Now." he ordered.

"No" she replied with a hint of defiance.

"Ugh, my god. Okay, stay in the car. We'll be out in a few minutes," Lando said but was she going to listen? No.

While Lando and Lion disappeared into the dimly lit back room to deal with Ronnie, Fresa, alone, wandered to the front of the club. She tried to blend into the shadows, but Ronnie's brother, Robert, had already fixed his gaze on her. He slid into the seat beside her,

"Hi" he greeted.

She doesn't say anything, just smiles back.

"Not much of a talker I see."

"Drink?" He said pushing over a gin to her.

With the anger over Theo she gulped it down without thinking much.

Meanwhile, in the back room, tensions were escalating. Ronnie had discovered a discrepancy in the weight of the package Lion had delivered.

"It's opened," he growled, his eyes narrowed.

"Dunno. I just delivered it as it got," Lion stammered, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously.

"It's missing 100gms ," Ronnie said, placing the package on a scale.

"Come on man it's just 100?" Lando said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"You know how much it costs? That's gonna cost me thirteen thousand pounds," he glared.

"Thirteen thousand??" Lando repeated, his eyes widening.

"It's uncut. Pure." Ronnie said, "now I need my money."

"Fine. I'll get the money to you by tomorrow," Lando retorted, trying to maintain a composure.

"Tomorrow?" Ronnie shook his head.

"Look I can't just magically get that kind of cash okay? There's a limit on the ATM." Lando argued, frustration taking over him.

"Alright, fine. Go," Ronnie nodded, his eyes still holding a threat.

Lando and Lion sighed in relief, eager to escape. They hurried back to the front of the club only to see Fresa stumbling towards the exit door with Robert’s arm draped around her shoulder.

Lando ran over and pushes him away.

"Easy there boy" Robert yelled.

"Fresa!" Lando called. He cupped her face, his thumb gently tracing her cheek.

"She's a beauty isn't she." Robert smiled smugly.

"Fresa, look at me," Lando said, his concern growing into a burning fear.

"Lan..." she slurred, her words barely coherent. One drink couldn't do that and as far as Robert's reputation goes, he definitely drugged her.

"Here." Lando carefully lifted her onto a nearby table. Then, he turned to face Robert and his goons, his eyes a cold, unwavering stare.

"What?" Robert sneered.

With a swift, brutal movement, Lando's punch landed Robert's face. When the first blow didn't bring the man down, he struck again, this time breaking his nose. The guy falls down on the ground with the force and the temperature in the room rises.

Robert wastes no time in giving the fist back to Lando. From then it all became a chaos. Ronnie came to the front and joined in the fight. Everyone started hitting each other like crazy, they'd hit with whatever is nearby, the glasses, alcohol bottles, chairs and what not.

Nobody touched Fresa. She was just sitting in the corner, not understanding what was actually happening in front of her. When she saw a woman pointing a knife at Lando's back, she quickly grabbed a glass from the table and breaks it onto her head.

"You bitch!" The woman shouts. She slashes Fresa in her stomach and Fresa punches her back, both fell down to the ground fighting further.

"FRESA!" Lando yells as he tries to fight off Ronnie.

Suddenly faint siren could be heard outside and it wasn't long before the cops got there.

"POLICE, STAND DOWN!" The officers barge in with guns.

They got hold of Lando, Lion and Fresa and some others but Ronnie and Robert had slid out the back door. "Damn you officer, those goons ran away." Lando cussed.

"Lando Norris, you are enough for us." The officer said snapping handcuffs around his wrists.

This was bad. He was trying to get way from these types things as much as he can and now Fresa was a part of this too. She was trapped in a war she didn't understand. He needed to get her out of this. He needed to fix this. Ronnie already hated Lando and he surely won't let this slide.

As soon as they reached the station, Lando reached out to his lawyer friend, Anna. And secured their release by the following afternoon. Lando decided it was best for Fresa to stay away from her home right now so he took her back to his villa.

Fresa cleans up and sat on the kitchen island, her head pounding, her stomach churning. The aftereffects of the drug were still lingering, blurring her thoughts and making it difficult to focus. She felt disoriented and vulnerable.

Lando came in from upstairs and glanced at her as he made some ginger tea. "Here, it'll help," he said, giving her a steaming cup. "How are you doing?"

"Me? I just got drugged, stabbed and arrested. In one day! Oh I'm doing awesome!" she replied.

"I'm sorry." Lando apologises, his eyes filled with genuine regret.

"Where's Liam?" She asked.

"Dad called him back for an important case so he and Chloe went back. But they'll be here anytime soon."

"Does he know how much of a saint his little brother is?" She chuckled.

"No please don't drag my brother into this. He's clean. He'll kill me if he knows I'm involving in such things. Sorry please." Lando pleaded.

"It's okay. It was really my fault." She said.

"You told me not to come but i didn't listen and took that drink. God how stupid am I....I guess I was angry."

"On whom?" Lando asked, his voice gentle.

"My boyfriend, Theo....It was almost over between us when he moved here in London and I was trying to mend it. I thought it was because of the long distance thing but it turns out he was cheating on me."

"What a loser." Lando scoffed.

She chuckles and then hisses as she shifts in her chair and feels a sharp pain. Last night's wound.

"Can I see it?" Lando asks.

Fresa lifts her shirt and and he saw the red bandage gash above her waist, to the side. "You're bleeding through." Lando said, his brow furrowing. He hurriedly grabs the first aid box and guided her to the couch.

Then he carefully cleaned the wound. His touch surprisingly gentle. Fresa gripped Lando's shirt as the antiseptic stung, a sharp, clean pain. "I'm almost done," he reassured her.

The scent of antiseptic filled the air, an oddly comforting aroma. Fresa's gaze drifted to Lando's face, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was so close, every detail of his expression magnified.

As he finished bandaging the wound, his fingers brushed against her skin, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down her spine. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers.

The silence continued with only the chirping of birds outside. Lando's gaze lingered on her lips. He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek. She closed her eyes, feeling his lips brushing against her cheek.

Then his lips moved to hers, a soft, tentative exploration. The kiss was gentle, hesitant. But as she gave him access, the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate. Her hands found their way to his hair, her fingers in the soft curls.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. A soft smile played on his lips. "Do you want go to a party?" he asked.

"A party?" she chuckled.

"No no! Not like last night. Liam and Chloe will be there too!" He laughed.

"So you're not angry at me anymore?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

"Yes, still am," she replied, a playful smirk playing on her lips. "But maybe tomorrow, right now I'm in a little pain," she smiled.

"Wow, Chloe, look, the house is standing," Liam laughed as he entered with Chloe. Seeing them, Lando moved away, and Fresa adjusted her shirt back.

"What you kids do when we were out?" Liam asked, settling onto the couch.

"Played in the sand" Lando sneered.

"What happened to your hands?" Chloe asked, noticing Lando's reddened knuckles.

"What happened to you?" Liam asked, seeing Fresa's forehead wound.

"I, uh, don't know...I think I was drunk and I fell," she stammered a little.

"And you went for a boxing match, didn't you?" Liam glared at Lando. "You do boxing?" Fresa asked, looking at Lando. "I've told you a million times to quit, but you never listen, right?" Liam continued. "You didn't take Fresa with you, did you?"

"No!" Lando and Fresa replied in unison, their voices too quick, too synchronized, making them even more suspicious.

"Anyways where's Anna?" Liam asked.

"She's late, she had some important work so she'll come by tomorrow morning." Lando answers and Liam nods.

Anna. The words echoed through Fresa's ears. Did she just kissed Lando despite him having a girlfriend? Guilt washes over her.

[4.1k words]

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

A Curse [Chapter 6: Tarzana]

A/N: Where has the time gone??? We are officially halfway done with this series! Thank you so much for reading, besties. It has been an honor to curse you all 🥰🪄

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap situationship, T.J. Maxx, Chinese food, a phone call from Minnesota, illness, entertainment industry misogyny, Jace is clueless, Becca bakes bread.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

“What happened to your foot?” Baela asks from the kitchen. She’s doing yoga poses in the middle of the floor. Jace is noisily pawing around in the refrigerator. His iPhone is on the counter, and from it emits a horrible throbbing Charli XCX song that sounds like something they would use to torture prisoners at Guantanamo Bay.

“Yeah, I wanna dance to me, me, me, me, me,

When I go to the club, club, club, club, club…”

You are lying across the orange couch with your left ankle elevated on a stack of pillows and covered with an ice pack. You flip a page in one of those heavy coffee table books with lots of pictures from Barnes & Noble; Baela’s parents bought it when they were furnishing the apartment, and again you are reminded—the weight in your hands like solid gold—of how much they believe in her. The book is about the history of Los Angeles. “Becca pushed me.”

Jace gasps and looks up from the refrigerator. “Why would Baela do that?!”

“No, Jace, Becca,” you say. “My agent’s fiancée Becca. That’s who pushed me.”

“Oh,” he says, and resumes rummaging around in the refrigerator until he finds a cannister of Pillsbury biscuits. He cracks it open and begins plopping pucks of dough on a baking sheet.

“Did Becca find out?” Baela asks you as she does the Reverse Warrior pose. “About the…you know…”

You shrug, guilty, defeated. Your swollen ankle pulsates hotly. You are bone-tired and wholly uninspired, a foreign feeling that makes you wonder if the part of you you’ve always assumed was eternal could die after all. “I guess. I kind of tried to confess but she seemed to already have it figured out.”

Baela snaps upright and gawks at you. “Why would you confess?!”

“I thought you said what I did was wrong.”

“Well yeah, it was, but that doesn’t mean you tell his fiancée! You don’t know her! What if she’s crazy? What if she’s like that astronaut lady who put on a diaper so she could drive nine hundred miles to pepper spray her ex’s new girlfriend?!”

You frown morosely down at the book. “You’re right. It was stupid. I just felt bad.”

Jace slides his baking sheet of Pillsbury biscuits into the oven. On the kitchen counter, your sunflowers are beginning to wilt and shrivel in their vase. You have fed them and meticulously trimmed their stems at an angle as Google recommended, but still, they cannot last forever. Perhaps you’ll dry them and they will endure perpetually in some other form, trapped in a pressed flower frame, arranged into a wreath.

Now Baela is sympathetic. “Are you in a lot of pain? Your foot’s not broken or anything, right?”

“It’s my ankle. And according to Google, it’s probably just sprained.”

“Do you want me to take you to an urgent care place for an x-ray? Or get you a brace from the Rite Aid down the street?”

“I really don’t think I need an x-ray…and if my parents see the health insurance got billed, they’re going to freak out and call me asking why I’m burning through even more of their money. But a brace sounds awesome!”

“Okay,” Baela says, and gives you an encouraging smile. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. You’re going to slay the Marvel audition on Friday.”

“How’d you know about that?”

She points to the calendar. “You wrote it on there.” And sure enough, you did: red ink in a small black box labeled Friday, July 11th. That’s two days from now. Baela says to Jace: “Come on, we’re going to Rite Aid.”

He is distraught. “But I have to watch my biscuits!”

She groans. “How long do they need to bake?”

“Fifteen more minutes.”

“We’ll walk fast,” Baela says, and drags him out the door. Blessedly, Jace takes his iPhone and its disturbing Charli XCX music with him, now playing a song that sounds like television static.

As you lounge dispiritedly on the velvet orange couch, you return your attention to the book about the history of Los Angeles. A hundred years ago, Elysian Park was an oil field, lattice-like wooden rigs peppering the hills that now host Dodger Stadium, narrow sloping streets of working-class homes, Aegon’s unpretentious half-duplex, and you wish you weren’t thinking about him but regrettably you usually are these days.

You grab your phone and open Instagram. You are startled to see Becca’s profile picture in the row of stories at the top of the screen. She must have accepted the follow request you sent her weeks ago.

Why the hell would she do that now?

Surely, there are no benign reasons. After a moment’s hesitation you can no longer resist and click on Becca’s story to view it. It’s a photo of her giving Aegon a kiss on the cheek; they’re both laughing, his nose is scrunched up, it’s honestly pretty adorable. You tap the X in the corner of the screen to escape the image as quickly as possible, and yet it remains: red neon glowing on the backs of your eyelids, flames of arson in your throat.

You go to Becca’s profile. A quick browse of her stories and posts reveals homemade baked goods, scenic outings in nature, faux-candid selfies, and lots of home decorating. She has a blog that is linked in her bio—rebeccawilsonwrites.wordpress.com—like she’s freaking Gwyneth Paltrow recommending jade yoni eggs on Goop. She also has three Pekingese dogs, woefully inbred wobbling wheezing creatures, and you are reminded of your mother’s colony of Akitas.

Becca’s most recent culinary masterpiece is apple cinnamon bread. The loaves look flawless, golden brown and scrupulously sliced. Her caption reads: Made with delicious Honeycrisp apples, picked fresh at a local orchard! @superstargaryen loved them! Then there is a series of emojis: apples, hearts, bread, more hearts.

You return to your main feed and scroll manically through the photos and video clips there, desperate for a distraction. You see a post featuring a quote from Robin Williams—I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy—and a foggy memory is evoked like the rippling distortion of heat refraction rising up off a freeway.

You think: Didn’t Robin Williams die by suicide because he had a terrible disease?

You go to Google, conduct some basic research, and confirm the details. Then you search: Viserys Targaryen Lewy body dementia. But you find no relevant results.

You open your email, and at last you have your distraction: a reply to a message you sent yesterday night, an invitation for an interview.

~~~~~~~~~~

Her office is on the third floor. Early afternoon daylight floods in through the glass walls; there is a large tropical orange flower in one corner of the room, a specimen that could never survive here in the arid Southwest without shade from the sun and religious misting. Marion May Davis, Mari for short, is in her mid-fifties and has lines in her face and natural grey hair cut into a tidy Anna Wintour bob. She looks her age, and she looks real, two things you liked about her when you found her online. Mari is an agent. Maybe she’ll even be your agent soon.

“Oh, I love Maroon 5,” she sighs romantically as she scrutinizes your resume.

“Me too!” you lie, smiling so forcefully your cheeks are beginning to ache. You don’t want to leave Aegon, but you have to. He’s torturing you, he’s killing you. The Marvel audition is tomorrow, and you cannot bring yourself to care about it. There is a pink neon sign on Mari’s office wall that reads in whimsical cursive: good vibes only. Not terribly original, but you appreciate the sentiment.

You tap your black ballet flats anxiously against the bamboo floor as you watch Mari contemplate your resume. You have hidden your ankle brace in your purse. You are wearing a simple sleeveless grey sheath dress that Baela saw at a Brooks Brothers and bought for you—It’s so classic! she had said—and matching cool-toned eyeshadow: sparkly lilac Betrayal by Urban Decay, silver Iced Out by Huda Beauty.

Mari asks: “Did you have any trouble finding the office?”

“No, not at all! But I did have to park super far away because I am awful at parallel parking, and somehow it feels even hotter than usual here.”

“Well, we’re so far inland.”

You are in Tarzana, and it is Thursday July 10th, and you have the sense that time is rapidly ticking down, not just to the end of the year when your parents will summon you back to Minnesota but to September when Aegon is getting married on Turks and Caicos. From outside you can hear cars and pedestrians on Ventura Boulevard, an east-west asphalt artery of shops, hotels, and offices in northwest Los Angeles, the site of a former ranch established in 1919 by Tarzan author Edgar Rice Burroughs.

Mari puts your resume down on her transparent glass desk, naked except for a MacBook Pro. Frigid air pumps out through the vents on the ceiling. “Okay, I’ll take you.”

“Really?!” you squeal; and yet you cannot ignore that this feels bittersweet. Aegon’s really getting married? I’m really leaving him? “Yay!”

“Yeah, I like your energy. And your outfit is great, very European, very chic. The makeup, well…” Mari chuckles. “They’ll do that for you at shoots. But tone it down a bit more for auditions. They want to see you as a blank slate they can scribble all over.”

“Sure,” you agree instantly. “I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your best client ever!” I won’t even hook up with you and thereby enrage your significant other!

Mari is typing on her MacBook Pro. “Give me a few days to send your stuff out and see what I can find for you. I love that picture of you with the sunflower…where was it taken?”

“The Flower District,” you say, thinking of the day you went there with Aegon and got ice cream afterwards, and he had remembered that you like vanilla.

“Delightful.” Mari is still typing. “I’m also going to email you the contact info for a friend of mine. He’s a plastic surgeon, he’s fantastic, I recommend him to all my clients. I’d like you to do a consult with him.”

You are ripped out of your not-so-distant memories, your effortful enthusiasm, and you have to be intentional to not seem offended. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate that, but I’m not interested in breast augmentation.”

“Oh no, I was thinking of your face.”

You stare at her. Reflexively, you touch your fingertips to your cheek. “My face? You want me to change…my face…?”

“Not change, dear!” Mari says. “Just enhance. Just make little tweaks here and there. I think you could really benefit from a rhinoplasty, and maybe something around the brows too…a lift? John will know when he examines you. He’s a magician! Have you seen the before and after pictures of Blake Lively? Or Mindy Kaling, or Taylor Swift? You’ll still look like you. You’ll just be an even better version of you!”

Outside, some tiny dog is yapping from a stroller or a purse. In this office, icy air blows down from the ceiling vent. You study Mari: undyed hair, no face or neck lift, probably not even Botox or Juvederm. “But you…you haven’t had any procedures done, have you?”

Mari smiles patiently, like she’s trying to explain a hard truth to a child, the fact that parents don’t always stay together or that pets inevitably die. “I work behind the camera, dear. Not in front of it.” Then she resumes typing on her MacBook Pro.

You watch her for a few seconds, listening to cars whooshing by on Ventura Boulevard. Then you grab your black Michael Kors purse—borrowed from Baela’s closet, at her suggestion—and stand up. Your wounded left ankle gives a shriek of protest. “Thank you for your time, but I don’t think this is a good fit. Have a great weekend!”

“What?” Mari says, peering up incredulously at you from behind her laptop, like she’s not used to being the one who gets dumped. You are already at the doorway.

“Bye!” you call with a wave, and sprint to the elevator at the end of the hall. You hammer the circular button and run inside when the doors open. Once you are alone and descending, listening to an instrumental version of Despacito, you take your ankle brace out of Baela’s Michael Kors purse and put it on. Then the elevator doors open again, and you are in another cold sterile hallway, and you hurry through a glass revolving door and escape out onto Ventura Boulevard.

The sun is blinding, the heat like an oven, your heart pounding heavily in your ribcage; your ankle throbs through the dose of Advil you took this morning. You stand on the sidewalk, jostled by women carrying shopping bags and men striding importantly by as they talk on their phones, and you try to remember which direction you came from.

I don’t want another agent, you think dizzyingly, nauseatingly. I want Aegon. But he’s driving me insane, and he’s hurting me, and soon he’ll be gone.

You get your bearings and walk east. It must be a hundred degrees. The palm trees are sparse and very tall and cast almost no shade; sweat drips down your face, your underarms, the ridge of your spine. You can’t tell if you’re panting because of the heat or because you’re freaking out or both. It’s probably both.

Your phone is ringing. You yank it out of the Michael Kors purse and answer in a breathless huff. “Hello?”

“Hi, honey!” Mom chimes. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” you say, although you’re certainly not. The sun is beating down like you’re a lizard under a heat lamp. “I just had an interview with—”

“Listen, we have to get you home for bridesmaid dress shopping,” Mom continues briskly. Ambiently, you can hear Clara chatting away about different fabrics, chiffon and tulle and satin and lace. “I’m looking at flights right now. How’s the first week in August?”

“Well, Mom, I’m really not sure because my schedule is changing all the time and I never know when I’m going to have an appointment or an audition and my manager Josh yells at me when I don’t put in enough hours at Cold Stone and—”

“This is important,” Mom snaps. There is the click click click of her manicured fingernails against her laptop keyboard. “Your sister only gets married once.”

“I know it’s important.” But what I’m trying to do out here is important too. “And I’m really happy for her and I’m thrilled about the wedding. I love weddings.”

“Then act like it.”

“I just honestly don’t have a regular schedule right now and missing a week can make a big difference. Do I have to be there in person for the dress thing? Can I just send you my measurements? You and Clara have a vision for this, so just pick whatever you want me to wear.”

Mom sighs impatiently. “No, we can’t do that! Honey, you know you have difficult proportions. We need to see the dress in person and order any alterations.”

“Okay,” you concede, feeling woozy and leaning against a streetlight that burns your arm. “Fine. Yeah. The first week in August is great.”

“And it’s especially vital that you look your best because you’re going to be the maid of honor. Yay! Isn’t that exciting?!”

You touch your furrowed forehead; it’s slick with sweat. Your period started this morning, and that can’t be helping the situation. “Does Clara want me to be her maid of honor?”

Faintly, you can hear Clara saying something about her best friend Kinsley, and your mother shushes her. “It should be her only sister,” Mom tells you.

“…Is that a no? Because Kinsley can do it, I really don’t mind. If I land a role I’m not necessarily going to be able to fly back for planning and parties and stuff—”

“You will be the maid of honor,” Mom insists. “Your father and I are paying for the wedding. We want you to be the maid of honor. Friends come and go, but family is forever. That’s the end of it.”

“Okay,” you say, and it comes out like a whimper; the heat is overwhelming. “Mom, I have to go, I have to try to find my car. I forget where I parked.”

“I’ll email you the tickets once I buy them.”

“Thanks!” you manage weakly, then hang up and wobble on your sprained ankle in the direction of your Honda, eastward, away from the ocean, back towards the Midwest from which you once made your botched exodus.

Suddenly you feel violently ill, and your vision begins to go dark, and you know you need to sit down before you pass out on the sidewalk and roast to death. You dart into the nearest building, a T.J. Maxx, and flee through throngs of shoppers to the furniture section. You collapse into a leopard-print armchair and sit there slumped and gasping, glistening with sweat, the room spinning around you. There is a fawn-colored shag rug on the floor that reminds you of one of Becca’s Pekingese dogs. You lean over and vomit the contents of your stomach onto it: a piece of toast with a teaspoon of peanut butter, a banana, some red grapes, a lot of Diet Coke.

Oh God. Oh no.

You look around to see if anyone has noticed yet; it doesn’t seem like it. Then you quickly roll up the shag rug and shove it under a dresser. You return to your leopard-print armchair and cover your flushed face with your trembling hands, your blood like boiling water beneath your skin.

Do I have to change my face to be an actress?

You shake your head, trying to expel this thought like seagulls from a picnic, sharp bold beaks pecking mercilessly for crumbs.

I have to get out of here. I have to get back to my car.

Your 2003 Honda Accord is parked no less than a ten-minute walk away. You wait a little while to give yourself time to cool down—a T.J. Maxx employee asks if you need assistance and you politely decline, then he frowns down at the floor as if he’s thinking: Isn’t there supposed to be a rug here?—and then you venture back out into the heat. Immediately upon leaving the shade and air conditioning of the T.J. Maxx, your nausea returns with a vengeance and you stumble as the sidewalk sways beneath your black ballet flats. People laugh at you like you’re drunk or high. You retreat back into the T.J. Maxx and seek refuge in the leopard-print armchair.

What am I going to do?

You fumble your phone out of the Michael Kors purse and go to call Baela…then you remember she’s currently on a transcontinental flight to Paris to film Yorgos Lanthimos’s new movie. You call Jace three times, but he doesn’t pick up. Maybe he’s in class. Maybe he’s asleep.

Aegon?

“No,” you mutter to yourself. “No way.” Out of ideas, and not able to think all that well anyway under the present circumstances, you call Mason. He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey!” he says excitedly. “You back in Minnesota?”

“No, sorry, I’m in L.A.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “How’s that going?”

“Actually, not that great at the moment.”

“Yeah, you sound weird.”

“I’m really sick. I think it’s the heat. I’m trapped in a T.J. Maxx and I can’t get to my car, and even if I could I’m worried I’d crash while driving home.”

“Damn, that sucks,” Mason says distractedly, and you can hear that he’s typing two thousand miles away in his Minneapolis office.

“What should I do?”

“Call an Uber?”

This is sensible, and yet you moan helplessly in your armchair. A T.J. Maxx employee is sniffing around the dresser where you’ve stowed the soiled shag carpet, grimacing. “A ride all the way down to Harbor Gateway is going to cost over a hundred dollars. And my parents will see the charge on my card. And what if I pass out and the Uber guy robs me?”

“Call your agent?” Mason suggests. “He probably won’t rob you.”

“I can’t call him.”

“Why not? Isn’t that his job, to take care of you?”

You blink dazedly at a rack of baby clothes, sailboats and elephants and ladybugs. “It’s complicated.”

“Well I can’t drive to L.A. to pick you up, so you gotta figure something else out.”

“Okay,” you surrender. “Thanks anyway. Bye.”

“Bye. Let me know next time you’re home for a visit!”

“Totally.” But you have no interest whatsoever; you can’t even envision kissing him. You are, to your misfortune, very much so a one-dude type of girl, as Aegon put it.

You stall for a moment, opening random apps on your phone, scrolling blindly through Instagram. Now you feel less sick and more exhausted, like you could fall asleep and never wake up, although you’re developing a powerful hammer-like thudding just above your left eye. Another T.J. Maxx employee asks if you need help finding something, and you pretend to be considering buying the leopard-print armchair. A manager is using her radio to ask if anybody knows where the shag rug went. Out of alternatives, you call Aegon.

“Hello?” he says when he picks up, like he’s surprised to see your name on his screen.

“Hi,” you reply miserably. “I’m dying.”

He snorts a laugh. “You’re not dying. Where are you?”

“I’m stranded at a T.J. Maxx in Tarzana. I think I have heat sickness or something. Every time I try to walk to my car I almost pass out.”

“Yeah, you’re not used to temps like this, are you?” Aegon sounds kind, gentle, wise, and you hate how much you want to like him again, to be friends, to be more than that. “Well, you’re in luck, because I’m just finishing up a shoot in Studio City and I can probably be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Cool!” you cheer feebly.

“A T.J. Maxx, right?”

“Yup. On Ventura Boulevard.”

“Okay. See you soon, I’ll let you know when I’m close.”

“Thanks,” you murmur drowsily.

“No problem,” Aegon says, and hangs up.

You drag yourself to the bathroom, splash cold water on your face, gulp some down to clean your mouth out and immediately throw it up into the sink. You hide in a stall and rest your head in your hands for a while—ankle throbbing, skull aching, cramps in your lower belly—and only leave when Aegon texts you that he’s two minutes away. As you stumble past the leopard-print armchair now damp with your sweat, you see an employee discovering the shag rug under the dresser and unrolling it. He recoils and shouts: “What the fuck is that?!”

Just outside the T.J. Maxx, Aegon is double-parked and receiving jeers and honks from his fellow motorists. He ignores them. Aegon has closed the top of his Chrysler Sebring convertible and inside the air conditioning is on full blast, an Arctic tundra, the ice cream freezer at Cold Stone Creamery. You throw yourself limply into the passenger’s seat and pull the door shut, which feels like it takes immense effort. Then Aegon surges into traffic and barrels down Ventura Boulevard. You rest your head against the car window and close your eyes.

Aegon prods you with a large chilled bottle of blue Powerade he must have grabbed from a 7-Eleven or something.

“I can’t drink that,” you say dimly.

“Yes you can.”

“Do you have, like, a sugar-free version or—?”

“Shut up. Drink the Powerade.”

You take the bottle, twist off the top—again, this seems to take far more strength than it should—and swallow several gulps, hoping they’ll stay down. Almost immediately, the hammer strikes just above your orbital socket begin to dissolve away, and you feel a little more alert, and your nausea does not make another appearance.

“Better, right?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” you admit, touching your skull in dull amazement.

“It’s the magnesium. It’s good for headaches. And the salt helps you rehydrate. What the hell are you doing all the way up here in Tarzana, anyway?”

You sip your Powerade as you stare out the window, watching buildings and palm trees soar anonymously by. Aegon gets on the 101 heading east towards Elysian Park. You know that’s where he’s taking you without needing to ask. “Do you think there’s something wrong with my face?”

“What?”

“My face. Like my nose and my eyebrows. Do I have weird eyebrows? Is that why no one thinks I can be an actress?”

“Your eyebrows are fine,” Aegon says, glancing over at you, confused. He’s wearing the black suit that he dons for film sets, a skinny tie, a half-untucked white shirt. He notices the brace on your left ankle. “Damn, Sunshine, you’re a mess today. What happened there?”

You drink your Powerade as you debate whether to tell him about Becca. You decide against it. “I tripped and fell because I’m an idiot.”

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“So my new agent will take me seriously.”

Aegon must be startled—he turns to look at you, then back to the rushing five eastbound lanes of the freeway—but he stays calm, dispassionate, like he’s trying not to scare you away. “Is that who told you to cut up your face?”

“Turns out I don’t like her, so. Never mind.”

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” Aegon says, sounding a bit relieved.

“I am.” And maybe you’re relived too. “For now.”

“You down to get lunch?”

“I don’t want to vomit in front of you.”

He smiles. “I’ve seen worse things, I guarantee it.”

“What about my car?”

“Where exactly did you leave it?”

You have to think for a while, finishing the Powerade and letting your mind become useful again, and then you recall that you parked on a side street by a dog daycare, Dog-E-Dayz or Dog-E-Den or something like that.

Aegon picks up his phone and calls his receptionist Brandon. “Hey, Brando! Listen, your favorite client left her car in Tarzana. Yeah, I know. Way out there. So it’s parked near a dog daycare about a half-mile from the T.J. Maxx. Can you look up the address and get a tow guy to pick it up and take it down to the garage at her apartment building? Great. You have the model and plate number and everything? You’re a genius. And I’ll pay you extra for the inconvenience. No, no, I insist. Talk to you later. Bye.”

Then Aegon plugs his phone into the aux, and for some reason he puts on an Eminem playlist, and you doze against the cool clear window until you get to Chinatown.

The waitress Lanying asks Aegon about his siblings—“How is Aemond? What about Helaena? Okay, and what about Daeron?”—and Aegon smiles and nods and patiently reiterates that they’re all fine. You are led to the usual spot by the fish tank, massive black-and-orange oscars floating behind the glass and glowering at you, their bulging eyes reddish and hostile. Soon the table is cluttered with a tea kettle and two cups, wonton soups, your moo goo gai pan, Aegon’s boneless spare ribs. You eat cautiously, each bite slow and groggy. A family seated nearby has a baby girl, and she giggles and smacks the table with her tiny chubby hands each time you wave at her. Aegon watches this, oddly wistful for someone who admittedly has never wanted children.

“Here,” Aegon says, offering you a forkful of his boneless spare ribs. “Eat.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You look droopy. You need fat and sugar and deliciousness.”

You acquiesce and let him feed you the morsel of pork, sweet and fatty and rich and sublime. You chew very slowly, and still it’s gone too soon.

“You have to eat more,” Aegon says. “I think that was part of the problem today.”

“Thank you for rescuing me. I’m pretty sure it was just the heat. And I was kind of upset about the appointment with the agent lady, and my mom called and stressed me out about Clara’s wedding. And oh, by the way, I got my period so no need to worry about that. Whoo hoo.”

Aegon doesn’t seem to appreciate the joke. He gazes at you thoughtfully, then uses his fork to point at the baby girl at the next table. “Do you want kids?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. I love kids. But I have like fifteen more years to reproduce, and if I want to be an actress I kind of have to do that first.”

“I figured. You worked at summer camps in Watts, right?”

“After-school programs. All the other employees hated me, I never wanted to yell at the kids or tell them what to do, I’d just get down on the ground and play with them. I’m so great at Uno.”

Aegon smiles. “Yeah?”

“And Sushi Go, and Scrabble, and Apples to Apples.”

“Apple girl from Appletown,” Aegon says, skimming the zodiac calendar written in red ink, twelve animals and their descriptions, attributes, shortfalls, perfect mates. Then he taps it. “Which one are you?”

You flinch, cave in, feel tremendously low. He really doesn’t remember. It didn’t matter to him, I didn’t matter to him. You stab at your moo goo gai pan with your fork, looking down so he won’t see how upset you are. “You are so fucking mean.”

But Aegon is bewildered, like he’s not sure what he’s done wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Monday, July 14th, and you are ringing up a Gotta Have It-sized Cookie Doughn’t You Want Some for a Los Angeles Southwest College student when Aegon walks into Cold Stone Creamery, the string of metal bells jangling against the glass door. You go to meet him by the ice cream freezer, where Aegon scans the menu of Signature Creations. He is carrying a manila folder and wearing a yellow t-shirt with a tan jacket thrown over it, dark jeans, and white-and-gold Nike Killshots. He seems confused.

“You don’t want an Our Strawberry Blonde like last time?” you say. You haven’t seen or heard from him since your Marvel audition, which was pretty dismal. Aegon stood in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest, and even though he put on his black sunglasses and grinned at you when it was over, you could tell he didn’t mean it.

“Oh yeah,” Aegon says. “Yeah, I do, thanks. That’d be perfect.”

You make his ice cream, Aegon pays in cash, and then you ask Josh if you can take your fifteen-minute break now. Aegon evidently wants to talk to you; he sits at the table by the window and watches you expectantly. Josh reluctantly agrees and you take a seat across from Aegon. He holds out his spoon and won’t speak to you until you take a bite. Eventually, you do: chunks of fresh strawberries, sticky caramel, rich fluffy whipped topping, jarringly sweet and cold and perfect, even if it’s not what you’d usually order.

“Well, you didn’t get the Marvel job,” Aegon says.

“I’m not shocked. They barely looked at me.”

“But I might have found you something else.”

“A dog food commercial? A brief and soulless flashback of somebody’s dead wife?”

“A feature film,” Aegon says, and you stare numbly at him.

“What?”

“Indie, Sundance. Starring role. First billing. I got you an audition.”

You snatch the balloon down just as it begins to float away. You’re trying to prepare yourself for disappointment. “They’re not going to like me.”

“They might,” Aegon says. He lays the manila folder on the table and slides it over to you. “I’m not supposed to let this out of my office, so don’t lose it.”

“It’s the script for the audition?”

“It sure is.”

This can’t be happening. “How did you get them to agree to put me on the list?”

Aegon shrugs. “I didn’t do anything. They reached out to me.”

You place your palm on the folder to make sure it’s real. “What’s the movie about?”

He smiles as he licks strawberry ice cream from his spoon. “Vampires.”

“It’s horror?”

“Kind of horror. Kind of romance. I think it’s just right for you.”

“When’s the audition?”

“This Saturday.”

“Okay,” you say, savoring it, this liminal hope you can’t stop yourself from feeling. You’ve always been an optimist. Perhaps no number of curses can change that. “Okay. I’ll be ready, I promise.”

“Don’t forget about the charity gala,” Aegon reminds you. “It’s Saturday night, the same day. But there are like ten hours in between so it shouldn’t be a problem, even if the audition runs late.”

You peer through the window at pedestrians walking by outside. It’s twilight, and streetlights are turning on, and neon tubes glow with cold chemical fire. “I don’t think I want to go to that.”

“You have to. It’s work. I can introduce you to industry people.”

“Is Becca going to be there?”

“Of course. But she won’t bother you.”

Why does he cheat? you think forlornly, and then you remember something Aegon said the day you first met: Life is short. I try to keep it delicious. “I’ll go,” you agree under duress.

“You sure will,” Aegon says, and scrapes the last of the ice cream from his bowl and gives it to you, his plastic spoon heavy with melting pink magic.

When you return to your apartment well after 11 p.m., Jace is sprawled across the orange couch in his pajamas and watching Blade. He is noisily slurping Pad Thai from a takeout container. You kick off your work Sketchers and remove your ankle brace. It still twinges, but you’re healing.

Abruptly, you recall Aegon’s paranoia concerning Jace’s presence at your 4th of July festivities. “Hey, Jace?” you say, getting an idea.

He glances lazily over at you. His dark hair falls in chaotic curls around his face. “Yeah?”

“I have to go to a charity gala on the 19th. That’s this Saturday. It’s very fancy and very formal, and I don’t really want to go alone and have no one to talk to. Do you want to go with me?”

You had imagined this might take some convincing, and yet Jace is immediately amenable and has only one question. “Will there be free food?”

“Yeah, I assume so. Probably an open bar too.”

“I’m in.” Then he winks and makes a joke. “It’s a date.”

[yumeflower]

Chance x Reader who just acts like a crackhead.

Basically, imagine every shit post meme and... That is Reader-

♥️♦️Chance X erratic! Reader

IM RESPONDING TO THIS SO LATE AUGHH BUT YEA!!!1!1!1

Trigger warnings-smoking

(Builderman lowkey hates you,he also talks in yellow)!!

———————————————————————

Builderman looks at chance. Who’s watching you say random stuff to the other survivors,you scare them. Every single one of them.

EVEN two time. Builderman crosses his arms and sighs,raising an eyebrow. “Really that’s whatch��r goin for?” Chance listens to you ramble on and go batshit wild again. Gosh he’s smitten

“Hey,leave my baby alone. Sure they might be a little….cookoo.” Builderman has never been more concerned for chance,if he was ever concerned for him at all before this whole relationship with your crazy self.

“Really,nobody else comes to mind when you think of a potential partn’r ??yer waistin your time with that trailerpark.”

Chance lights a cigarette and admires you from afar saying something about …property’s in Egypt?? Whatever…He just knows you look good doing it. Whatever you’re doing.

“Dont’cha think you’re a little too old to be judging my lucky baby?? Hmm..kinda don’t like the way your talking about them right now builderfella” Builderman inevitably sighs. Gosh everyone’s a handful.

———————————————————————

I waited so long to write this on sorry😭😭

[daylighted]

omg!!. i love how u write sam and love baby!reader !! im so excited to see journal!reader and more sam :]]

I LOVE N ADORE YOU !!! this is the perfect excuse to write for lore & sam rn thank u beloved.

not the start chronologically ... but sam meeting lore HEHEHEHE

"dean, what is this?" it's comical, how similarly sam reacts in the face of the exact same thing he'd already once been through. this time, instead of the winchester family car standing in front of him, it's baby and another half-naked girl. you. what the hell was sam's life right now?

you smile widely at him, your hands flap in the pockets of your big brown coat, flailing excitedly. "hi, sammy!"

sam's eyes flit over to dean, then, narrowing in on him. "what is this?" repeated again, because dean's silence was loaded with answers sam probably didn't want to hear but needed to anyways.

you don't even seem deterred by him refusing to address you properly. like, how were people supposed to address journals? you didn't know. this seemed fine. anything sam did was fine.

dean's head drops to look at the ground, his dimples deep in his cheeks, giving away his grin even as he hides his expression. "listen—"

"dean."

"baby was lonely..."

baby was oddly, uncharacteristically silent until then, when she chimes in, of course, to defend dean. she always does. it's not a surprise that she jumps in but a surprise it took her so long. "i was!"

"so..." dean doesn't even try this time to stifle his amusement. he's laughing. sam's staring at him like he's grown two new heads, and he has, just in the form of girls that didn't used to be girls, and dean is laughing. "so she told me—"

"i did. i did tell him." baby grabs your hand, lifting it into the air and dragging her toward sam, to which sam instinctively recoiled a step. "this is your dad's journal."

a lot of pieces were missing. baby tended to do that, too: defend dean, and forget the rest of the story in favor of skipping to the ending. trying to teach her to read some of sam's favorite books was a nightmare.

it takes him a long minute to process the end of the story she'd said, too. he stares at her, a little disbelieving laugh falling out of his mouth. "what?"

his gaze flicks between you, to baby, to dean. again, he asks, "no, what?" dean's shoulders lift in a shrug as if he wasn't partially liable for whatever this was. "dad's journal? that's not true. can't be. i left it on—"

"the desk," you speak up for the first time since arriving here, that same warm smile on your lips, "you left it on the desk over there, and at 11:03 am, baby put it in her pocket."

baby nods fiercely. "my pockets are very big. it fit right in there."

"and dean took her to a witch," sam's eyes narrow at that part of your story, flicking back up to dean's with blatant irritation. dean fucking giggles, the bastard. "and baby asked very nicely to turn the book into me! so you had someone, too!"

the fact that this was a normalcy, now, in sam's life was completely fucking baffling. he bypasses dean and his little bursts of giggles and turns his attention to you, fully.

your coat looks familiar. almost like the one he'd brought with him from college, just a little more worn and faded, somehow. a pair of glasses rest on the bridge of your nose, stains that look suspiciously like coffee and beer on the big cream-colored t-shirt you wore. your legs—

sam did not, in fact, look at your legs. he caught a glimpse of tattoo ink on the bare skin and promptly looked back up, clearing his throat. "this is insane."

you break into a grin, clapping your hands together. "insanely good!"

he did not forget about baby. dean was to blame for encouraging and entertaining baby's ideas, but it was baby who started this. he puts on his best stern face, trying to pretend that he wasn't for a moment thinking that it was sweet that baby had done all of this for him.

"you can't just go to witches and demand they turn things into people for you." what a crazy sentence to say, but okay. this was just sam's life now. "you could have... i dunno, bought me a tamagotchi instead, if you wanted me to have something to care about." sam knew he would have killed that tamagotchi, but you didn't need to know that, and neither did baby. he is trying to instill good behavior into the chaos that was the both of you, damn it. "but it is very nice, that you thought i needed..."

he trails off, his eyes drifting back over to you again. what, exactly, did baby think he needed? she usually spelled it out to him in harsh, honest words, not knowing any better. in any other case, baby would have just told him straight up, like, you need to write better. i can't learn to read if you are just scribbling, which was something he'd heard plenty of in the last few weeks.

but this? he couldn't tell her intentions, or dean's intentions on going along with it. instead, all sam had to go off of was you standing in front of him, looking like a dream and like you thought he was a dream too.

"lore," he whispers it, like it was a thought that just occurred to him, sticking in his brain and unrelenting. "it's nice to meet you, lore."

with baby, she'd been absolutely hellish about calling her anything but the name dean gave her. with you, your face seems to light up at the name. as if it lived inside of you all along, the name melds into your features and sits as easily on your skin like your glasses do.

"technically, you already met me," you say, moving the t-shirt collar away from your clavicles and pointing at yet another scrawl of ink, this time— sam falters.

an idle doodle he'd done as a kid, sitting on the corner of the table while john scribbled notes into one side of the pages, and he'd been left to draw in the margins on the other side. three messy, uneven hearts over your left clavicle, and his even messier handwriting, spelling his name.

his smile is involuntary, dragging up on his lips and punctuating in his cheeks. "well, come on," he says with an exaggerated sigh, nodding toward the rest of the books sitting on the desktop, "we've got a case to work on."

notes. i cannot go a post without forgetting something on god !!! anyways here is lore <3 !!! if u saw this without the taglist pls mind ur business. i am a busy woman rn ok !! i should could maybe write an intro for indy & soldier boy later but i also need to lock tf in ON SO MANY OTHER THINGS. my writing schedule is so chaotic but brings me sm joy

tags. @titsout4jackles @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @jensenacklesballsack @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @angelicalm3ss @nperoconelcositoarriba @impala67rollingthroughtown @h8aaz

[cherrysurf]

What. The. Fuck. s.hinata x reader

this is inspired by the tt trend “They say shooters shoot, Duke Dennis what’s up with you?” [im not sure if anyone did this before but if so lmk.]

Hinata Shoyo was your favorite MSBY player; you had been to a few games and were amazed by how cool and energetic he was. Recently, the "They say shooters shoot, Duke Dennis what’s up with you?" trend had been going around, and few people got noticed by their celebrity crushes or TikTok celebrities. You found the trend so interesting and comedic that you decided to make one of your own for Hinata Shoyo. It didn’t necessarily matter if he saw it or not; it was simply just for fun. In case he did see it, though, you made sure you looked your best because you never know, right? You finally posted the video after three tries. You added a few tags, but nothing crazy. After that, you put your phone to charge and went off to do your nightly ritual of showering and reading to detox your brain from your phone to sleep easier, which was a habit of yours that was hard to break at first.You fell asleep wondering about the possibilities of that video and perhaps fantasizing about a life with Shoyo Hinata because you’re just a girl, after all.You woke up at noon. It was Saturday midday when you picked up your phone and headed to the bathroom to brush your morning breath out of your mouth. As you opened TikTok to mindlessly scroll, you were reminded of the video you posted last night, which had a lot of likes and comments.You laughed at some people relating and some "toxic fans," and then as you went deeper, you found comments saying, "HE LIKED AND REPOSTED YOUR VIDEO." You were now internally freaking out as you stared at the many comments saying this. Then, you saw a familiar name with a blue mark next to it.

Hinata Shoyo: nothing much, what about you? 😉

Your toothbrush fell out of your mouth. Although the comment didn’t quite seem like his, it was cute to see him comment. You quickly ran to his repost, and sure enough, there was your video. Was this real? You thought it was too good to be true and way too easy to get his attention like that.You quickly exited TikTok to head to Instagram to get your mind from going haywire. That was until you checked your DMs to be met with that same name yet again.

"Hey! It’s me, Shoyo. Sorry about my TikTok comments. Atsumu said to put that, but I came to reach out because I'm not really like that 😅 I'd love to get to know you if you were serious about what you said on TikTok?"

"What the fuck!" you exclaimed as your phone fell onto the counter; you splashed yourself several times before you saw this was all real.

i genuinely don’t know how i feel abt this it’s mostly js so my brain can start writing again because i haven’t in awhile.

mostly for @dearru and me

gen hq list: @heartmaddie @livteracts @vertejay @massacremars @bakery-anon @na-i1 @nanasrkives @sexylexy12 @softpia

[cyberqueenpatrol]

TF!141 GIVING YOU GIFTS?

cw!: a little bit of smut!, female!reader

Price!: He is a man of antiques. Will probably gift you a cute lil god-knows-how-old memory box with a hand written letter in it. And Oh, it’s your birthday! That man won't miss this opportunity to gift you something valuable and thoughtful, like a piece of jewellery. He won't even look at the 'Price'. He thinks it's pretty, and would casually sneak the 24 carat diamond necklace while you are sleeping. Price loves that shocked and surprised look on your face, as you whine about how expensive it must be. You innocently ask him how you can repay him. Oh! Another opportunity that he can't miss! So what's next? Soon, you are bouncing on his thick fat girthy cock, thanking him for his lovely present as the diamond necklace bounces along with your tits. What a lovely scene Price has before his eyes!

Simon!: Oh boy, this guy doesn't know what he should gift you. But don't worry, he's a fast learner and a good observer. He sees you turning the pages of a book that you want but you can't buy it? Voila! It's at your doorstep the next day. Probably with a hand written note too. He 'accidentally' saw you browsing through a list of vibrators because you are sexually frustrated? That's it, you find the most expensive vibrator on your bed after you return from work. But hey! Here's a thing. Simon expects you to repay too, after all it's a fair game. And here's how you find your pussy being tortured by the vibrator and your clit being overstimulated by the pads of this thick, calloused hands. And don't forget! He might even whisper how his fat cock will take your weeping pussy, inch by inch.

Johnny!: My, my! This man won't even look left or right, up or down when it comes to gifting you. You want that one pretty scented candle that you saw last week? He brings in 10 of them. You just take a look at that pretty shade of lip gloss? Boy, he buys a lifetime stock of it. He doesn't mind you scolding (not too much, but in a cute way) him, because he knows that he will later see you using them.He gets crazy,seeing your pouty little lips wearing that lip gloss. Poor boy, he wants to ruin it so bad with his own lips(which he does). One more thing here! He will whine about rutting his desperate cock in you as he sucks the life out of your pussy, all the while he is grabbing every inch of the fat on the sides of your hip.

Kyle!: This guy is thoughtful, he knows what you like. He likes giving you quality time, like watching a movie and having chocolate covered strawberries. You feeling down? Oh boy, he will order your favourite dish, heat it up himself without letting you do anything and serve it in way as if it was served right in the restaurant. He'll give you whatever you want, but hey! He is a man with feelings too, right? He won't hesitate to tell you what he expects from you, and you too get shy because he says it in his sweet, loving tone. After all, he loves you and you won't think twice as he has already gifted you that Chanel perfume that you wanted (you didn't even tell him, yet somehow he knew that you wanted it). That's how you find yourself sucking the tip of his large cock, as he whispers sweet nothings about how he's gonna treat your already wet pussy, how he's gonna take you slowly and lovingly.

This is my first time writing such stuff so just excuse me if I am wrong anywhere!😅 (God, this is such a bad drabble, I hope you understand what I mean😭😭😭)

Please let me know your opinions on this pov so that I can improve!

LOVE YOU ALL COD LUVVIES!!!💟💞💝💖💗

Special thanks to @simonriley09 for replying to each of my irritating messages and request! Ilysm💗💝💟💞💓🎀💟💞

[forsaken-headcanons]

You know what? I mustered up the courage to come off of anon just for this. (Not gonna tag myself, but knowing my writing style, it’s probably gonna be obvious who I am lol.)

So uh. I’m fine now, but for some context: I was kinda upset earlier. And like a perfectly normal person, I wrote some self-indulgent rarepair stuff to make myself feel better. And now I’m sharing it with you all! Hope you don’t mind :]

Elliot / John Doe

Elliot once ‘tamed’ a feral John by feeding him pizza. It was a complete accident, too. He was trying to give it to Shedletsky, but John got in the way. 

It didn’t stop him from attacking the others, unfortunately. But he did leave Elliot alone for the rest of the round.

Being able to neutralize a threat like that is a big deal, so you bet that Elliot tried that shi again. Through trial and error, he discovered that John’s favourite is a plain old cheese pizza.

John’s memories while feral are fuzzy at best, and complete blanks at worst. Thus, he enjoyed getting properly aquatinted with Elliot after he managed to snap out of it about halfway through a round.

Using that one ‘the killers share a cabin across the water from the survivors cabin’ hc, John and Elliot will sometimes “meet up” between rounds by standing on their respective docks and shouting across the water at one another. They’d chat for as long as they could about the most random of things, just enjoying each other’s company.

Elliot once found a way to get a box of cheese pizza over to the killers side, and the gesture almost brought John to tears.

Noob / 1x1x1x1

Since there’s only four killers (as of writing this), I imagine that there’s barely any breaks between being chosen for rounds. And if the Spectre’s feeling particularly mean, one killer might get chosen over and over and over- (totally didn’t experience a server once with like 4 or 5 Mafiosos that we got back to back.)

See where I’m heading with this? The Spectre ends up favouring 1x1x1x1 for a while, which leads to him being worked to the bone. I’d say ‘poor guy’, but this is probably karma at this point…

No one really thinks much about it until 1x just straight-up collapses of exhaustion during a round. That was the moment that everyone realized that the killers weren’t these unstoppable machines of death; that they were bound by the same rules mortals were.

Maybe it’s naivety. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s something else entirely. But regardless, Noob’s the only one brave (or stupid) enough to approach a killer like this. The embodiment of hatred was clearly unhappy, but it’s not like he could hurt anyone in this state.

While the others did their thing, Noob kept watch over 1x. Mostly to make sure he didn’t start killing again, but also because a small part of him felt bad for the guy.

Even after the round ended and 1x got the rest he needed, Noob didn’t seem to fear him as much after that. It initially annoyed 1x1x1x1, but he eventually started to see the noob in a slightly different light when they offered themselves up after realizing that he hadn’t gotten a single kill in like, four rounds (not back to back this time, luckily. But still.)

1x eventually confronted Noob on their behaviour, and you know what he said? Noob admitted that he thought 1x could be a better (and less murder-y) person if he just had a friend. 

And the crazy thing is, they were kind-of right.

There. I said my piece. I was oddly scared about sharing these for whatever reason, but yeah. I like imagining these goobers doing silly things together, and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t/lh

(I should honestly write a fic for this or something. I have way too many ideas with these guys-)

Ahh, you're the fella who I see liking all of my posts. Hello there.

Really nice headcanons and really nice rarepairs. I hope you're alright now and whatever upset you is now dealt with.

[naebaetwsog]

「・RIIZE as your boyfriend°×

genre.Fluff

warning.Ot7(ig that’s a warning??)

pairing.Bf!Rii7e x fem!reader

note.If I say that I was crying writing this, and I was also crying while choosing the cover photo, I really miss our 03liners. Anyways, this is my fist riize fic, reminder that you can request other groups too!!

Shotaro

Your #1 fan, personal hype man, and ultimate softie. You are his literal baby—no exceptions. He spoils you endlessly, never showing up empty-handed on dates, always surprising you with little gifts. If you’re apart, he demands FaceTime calls at night, whining, “I can’t sleep without your presence…” Your personal space? Doesn’t exist. His clothes are now yours, and he loves seeing you in them. Dancing everywhere, even in the grocery store? Mandatory. You don’t know how? He doesn’t care—he’s twirling you around anyway. He showers you with compliments 24/7, making sure you never forget how much he loves you.

Eunseok

Cool and composed? Only with others. With you, he’s a total softie. But make no mistake—he’s crazy overprotective. If someone so much as glances at you the wrong way, he’s already cursing their ancestors. He spoils you without hesitation; you don’t even need to ask—just look at something, and it’s yours. You are not safe from his dad jokes, though. You could be in the middle of cuddling, and he’ll drop the corniest joke, leaving you groaning while he laughs at his own humor. He loves making you mad just because he thinks you’re adorable when you pout.

Sungchan

Simp? Understatement. You say sit, he sits. You say jump, he jumps. Honestly, he’s barking for you. Just thinking about you puts him in heart-eyes mode. Everyone knows how much he loves you—he makes sure of it. Someone stares at you for too long? He’s ready to throw hands. His personal space? Doesn’t exist when it comes to you. He even holds your hand when you go to the bathroom “What if you get kidnapped?!”. One week into the relationship, he’s already talking about marriage. But don’t be fooled—he will tease you, especially about your height, and be the most annoying boyfriend ever in the best way possible.

Wonbin

Mysterious? Only to strangers. With you? He’s a full-on clingy baby. If he’s not glued to you in some way, he’s simply not functioning. He spoils you to no end, handing you his credit card before you even ask. His clothes are automatically yours, and your mood? His mood. If you’re upset, he feels it. He’s confident, but still gets jealous—even though he’s literally one of the most handsome men alive. He tries to play it cool, but the moment someone gets a little too friendly, he’s suddenly extra affectionate, pulling you closer and reminding everyone that you’re his.

Seunghan

Simp Pt. 3. He’s obsessed with you in the most wholesome way. Personal space? What’s that? You’re never alone—if you turn around, he’s right there. Matching outfits every day, not negotiable. He only has eyes for you; no one else even exists in his world. He expresses his love in a million small ways, from adjusting your scarf in the cold to remembering your favorite snacks. If you’re feeling down, he drops everything to comfort you, whispering how much he loves you and will always be by your side.

Sohee

He tries to act all cool and manly, but let’s be real—he’s a total softie when it comes to you. He’s not big on physical affection, but he needs some part of him touching you at all times—whether it’s a pinky linked with yours or his foot brushing against yours under the table. Instead of physical touch, he expresses love through acts of service and words of affirmation. Good morning and good night texts are a daily routine. He surprises even himself by being the first one to say, “I love you.”

Anton

The biggest simp of them all. His brain is permanently on “reader brainrot” mode. If he’s not thinking about you, he’s making memes about you. You have so many inside jokes that one look from him can make you both burst out laughing. He always gives you his oversized hoodies because you look ridiculously tiny in them, and he lives for it. Spoils you way too much, especially if you’re into collecting cute things (“One more Sunny Angel won’t hurt…”). The way he adores you is unreal—he just wants to make you the happiest person alive.

[midnightshindig]

I need to see Donald being a wingman for Cecil 🙏 Like maybe the reader is also a high-ranking member of the GDA and Donald knows they both have trouble opening up? Ty!

omg finally getting to my requests omg!! happy days, everyone

I love this request, I LOVE Donald as a character I'm so happy to write for him ^^

hcs under the cut

You were one of the GDA's lawyer, inspecting the place to make sure-- legally-- everything was as airtight as possible. Suing a superhero is much more difficult than suing the government, after all. And the people want an outlet.

Your job was to make the GDA as un-suable as fucking possible.

And Cecil admired you for it

You provided a valuable service, you were always courteous to him and his subordinates, and you looked pretty good in a suit

What wasn't to love?

So you saw him quite a bit, it was an easy enough job with your team doing most of the difficult paperwork for you

It wasn't unusual to see you chatting up Cecil or Donald or really any higher up about the ins and outs of the process-- PURELY for research, obviously, and not because you're just cool and friendly

You would talk to Cecil quite a bit, inquiring into the functions of his job and just generally picking his brain about anything and everything

It was nice to have someone be so interested in him, Cecil couldn't help but grow fond for you

Instead of his initial annoyance, he quickly become excited when you entered his wing of the Pentagon.

"Heyyy big man! What're your thoughts on that attack this morning? Crazy stuff, right?"

He subconsciously moved to straighten his tie and fix the cuffs of his suit jacket, looking back at you with a wobbly, unpracticed smile

"Yes, Y/n. It was interesting all right- I have Donald and the boys at the lab working on samples from the monsters dna right now."

A beat

"Care to see?"

And so Cecil slowly grew to trust you more, not enough to show you the White Rooms by any means, but that wasn't personal, that was national security.

This had gone on too long, it was messing Cecil up

he liked you, he was grown up and mature enough to accept that fact

but there was no way you-- some hot shot lawyer with an intelligent mind and knack for conversation-- would find him worth your time

Position as head of the GDA be damned, he didn't think he could pull you.

He's too much of a rock to say anything, but Donalds entire job is to observe Cecil and his needs, to keep the GDA running smooth

"You know... I hope this isnt' out of line, Sir. But Y/n has taken quite a liking to you."

Cecils eye twitches with stress "What...?"

Donalds eyes widen a little, trying to save the situation "I just mean that it is unusual for Y/n to spend so much time here. With you. Data shows elevated heart rate and dilated pupils when they see you. It would make sense, is all."

Cecil let out a frustrated sigh, leaning against a desk "And what do you propose I do about it, Donald? Fire them?"

"No!" Donald was frantic, fixing his glasses and recomposing himself "The opposite, actually. I think it would be beneficial for both parties as well as the greater good of the GDA if you asked Y/n out to coffee."

Cecil was skeptical, like he always is, like his job requires.

But Donald knew it would make the both of you happier

Maybe you just needed a little push?

The next few days are torture for everyone working at the GDA

everyone can see you enjoying Cecil's company, and even casually hitting on him, and Cecil losing his edge over it

He's frazzled by you, shaken a little by Donald's suggestion he ask you out

But he steels himself and presses on, content to ignore his silly crush

Donald ain't having none of that shit.

So he finally confronts Cecil

"Cecil, sir, with all due respect, you need to make a move."

"What."

"This whole pining thing is disrupting everybody else's work, nobody can focus with the will-they won't-they sitcom happening."

"Donald please, Y/n is a professiona-"

"They really aren't. Ask them out. I'm serious." and Donald leaves, leaving Cecil disincensed and frazzled

So, two days later and you're back for a visit

but things are different?

the GDA analysts and office workers are all quiet around you, not in a gossipy way, just.... quiet?

You go to find Cecil, wanting to pick his brain about something you saw on the news

When you get there, Cecil looks nervous, not anxious per se, just.... hesistent?

"Hey Cecil! What's going on today? Everyone's super quiet... did I miss something?"

"No, y/n... uhm-" he pulls at his tie a little "Everything is fine, have a seat? I have something I want to talk to you about."

You raise an eyebrow at his formality, taking a seat in the leather chair across from his desk

"Y/n...." He sucked in a deep breath, clearly nervous

"What? Is there some huge lawyer scandal I'm not aware of?" You try to lighten the mood, cracking a smile

Cecil sighs, combing his hand through his hair "Y/n, would you...." he looks past your head to see Donald giving him a thumbs up through the door window

jesus christ

Ugh- fuck it-

"Y/n, can I take you out?"

silence.

"Like...." you start cautiously, a concerned look on your face "Like on a date? Or like...." You drag your finger across your throat, poking your tongue out to mimick death

Cecil's eyes widen as he stands up, placing his hands on the desk "Like a date! Not- ugh.... I should've phrased that better..." he seems so defeated, deflating back into his chair.

Much to his surprise, you perk up and grin "Sure!"

"What? Really?"

"Yeah! I've been waiting for like weeks for you to ask me out. What do you say to coffee?"

He blinks in surprise, straightening his tie and sitting up straighter "I would like that."

BONUS:

As you leave, you notice Donald standing casually outside the door to Cecil's office, presumably needing to tell him something important

after you leave, Cecil comes out himself, giving Donald a side eye

"Donald."

"Sir."

"....Thank you."

Donald gives a small smile and adjusts his glasses "You're welcome, sir."

[maclediumzeyheri]

How I Draw: PART 1

Hello, this is Zeyheri. While I was happily drawing, I suddenly realized, "Oh no, the new school term is coming! Once I start going to school, it'll be hard to draw! And my promise to share how I draw will be delayed so much!!! (I'm doomed!)“

...So, even though I haven't finished my drawing yet, I thought I should at least upload a post to prevent my trust from shattering into pieces.

I’ve noticed that authors always include words of gratitude in their book prefaces (so I’ll imitate them!). I sincerely thank the two people who’ve helped me a lot in writing this post and who will continue to help with many questions in the future. I also love all the users who constantly take an interest in my drawings!

As you probably know, I’m not a professional illustrator. The only formal art training I’ve had was at an art academy in elementary school! So, it’s probably not a great idea to expect to learn much from my writing. However, anyone can enjoy drawing even without formal training. "The act of appreciating art" is an even more accessible field to enjoy. If you read this and felt intrigued or inspired to try something experimental, then that is exactly the purpose of this post, and I will be happy.

-

(1) Tools & Programs

I use three programs to draw: PaintTool SAI2 / Corel Paintshop Pro / Corel Painter. Oh, I almost forgot-The tools I use are the love-hate Surface Pro 8 and the Huion Kamvas Pro 16 (4k).

-Rough sketching, inking, base coloring, adding shadows, and initial corrections: PaintTool SAI2

-Adding paintbrush effects: Corel Painter

-Other corrections: Corel Paintshop Pro

(*If you're wondering why I don't use Clip Studio, it's because my beloved Surface laptop might die from it! "Then how do you use Corel Painter?" you ask? The moment I open Painter, lag starts, and the fan goes crazy. If you value your laptop's lifespan, take my advice and avoid it!)

In fact, about 70% of the process happens in SAI. So, in this post, you’ll only see me using PaintTool SAI2.

(2) Rough Sketch & Line Art

Rather than creating a detailed rough sketch, I prefer to draw lines while adding rough sketches when needed. The first image is proof of that! For me, the rough sketch stage is less of "the first step in drawing" and more of "getting the atmosphere right."

For the lines, I use the SAI pencil, adjusting the brush density to around 75-85. Other than that, it’s probably set to the default settings, at least as far as I remember. (It's Korean, but I believe you can understand what it means by location)

If you look at my line art, you might notice faint shadows sometimes. This isn’t because I adjust the brush density; I adjust the layer opacity instead.

(2-1) Drawing Hair

Now, one of you asked me a question: "How do you draw hair?" I’ve created a simple resource to explain!

As always, there are exceptions, but when I draw hair, I tend to make the shapes angular. This way, the hair looks solid, almost like stiff RNA strands.

After that, I add lines following the flow of the hair, giving it a fuller look. I usually add these lines when I’m refining the inking stage.

Sometimes, if I’m feeling it. I add thin strands of hair around the edges to give it a more "hair-like" appearance.

(2-2) Drawing Eyes & Coloring

There was also a question about how to draw eyes. I’m not the type to add sparkling glitter for a glamorous look, so my approach is very simple.

In the picture, I’ve divided it into several steps, but honestly, it’s a very quick process. Start by shaping a hexagon and keep adding multiply layers while coloring. The key point is in the 6th step, where you cover the entire eye with a light pink multiply layer. Doing this creates a much more eerie, painful, and melancholic look! (I was really excited when I first discovered this! Yay!)

(3) Coloring

Now it's time to add color. Typically, I would choose colors that fall within the left square area, but if a highly saturated color seems more fitting, I use colors from the right square area. If you ask me why I choose these colors, I'm not sure. I just feel like I like low chroma colors.

Be thorough in coloring, and once you're done, apply textures lightly to finish it off. (You’re asking what texture I use? Well, since I’m not a texture creator, I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about it publicly. But if you send me a private message, I’ll answer you secretly. I think it was over $30.)

While coloring, using an Overlay layer to test can help when adjusting the color tone later on.

-

Thank you for reading. Please look forward to our next post as well! Feel free to let me know if there are any awkward expressions or anything you would like me to add to the content of this article!

[minkie-fury]

My Cookie Run Kingdom sona 😊

im not a writer but im tryna write out his lore but the gist of it is like?

- used to be Goldfish Cookie and was a researcher at blueberry yogurt academy back when blueberry milk/shadow milk founded it and they were like besties n shit maybe more teehee

- researched and wrote books on the witches and wizards on how they made cookies

- he had a secret lab where he would obsessively try to recreate the way the witches and wizards made the cookies and made life of his own so though he looked like just a nice little librarian he was low key kinda crazy but he didnt intend to be

- it went RONG and now he made these vaguely cookieoid half sentient creatures that are in constant pain and they KILLED HIM REALLY HARD OH IT WAS BAD

- the witches were like wait this guy is kind of awesome lets just bake him again but turn him into a fish lol

- so then he became Clownfish cookie and grew up in Tearcrown to become one of White Pearl Cookie’s attendants and then he fell in love with her awwwwwwwwwww how kawaii but he was like super ashamed of it because he thought it was indecent and that White Pearl should be with someone of her status

- AND THEY ALMOST KISSED BUT THEN he got harpooned and fishnapped by Abalone Cookie’s crew and they were like oh its a guy not a gem mermaid just throw him with the common loot lol. that ship managed to get away before white pearl went all emo

- bote fled to beast yeast and it was BAD BECAUSE THERE WERE THESE HUGE SQUIDS AND THEY EAT THE BOAT. IT WAS REALLY BAD

- so then the boat broke which clownfish cookie used as an opportunity to get out of the ship and into the ocean but the ocean was scary as hell like there were these big monsters everywhere so he just fled to land instead which was also a bad idea because he had to drag his tail everywhere but it wasnt as bad as dying to monsters so it was ok 🌷 (he was in the faerie kingdom btw) so shadow milk was in the silver tree right and he was like HOLY SHIT IS THAT WIFE? so he started talking to him telepathically and shadow milk is like I AM SHADOW MILK COOKIE and clownfish is like ? idk who that is

- shadow milk was like ohhh poor little me all alone trapped in a tree and he said ok so if you see to it i get outta here i will grant you a new home and clownfish was like 👍🏼 also he forgot he was pierced clean by a harpoon so he passed the fuck out OH HOW JOYOUS

- woke up in the faerie kingdom and elder faerie let him stay out of pity and i THINK he also met white lily there briefly????¿ but he spent most of the day ‘talking to himself in front of the silver tree’ and as the days went by he slowly started to change (into his beast yeast appearance) everyone kinda thought he was tweaking tf out and elder faerie was mad sus of him but figured hes literally a fish on land so he was kind of defenseless and didn’t have the heart to send him away

- during episode 1 of beast yeast he does kind of unintentionally warm up to pure vanilla & co. but hes mainly there to plant a seed of doubt in elder faerie’s narrative about the beasts and the silver tree

- and the.n shadow milk like rips open the tree and hes like OOHHHHHH IM SO HAPPY TO FINALLY MEET YOUU and starts yapping about how he knows so much about him (for obvious reasons) and clownfish is busy shitting his non existent pants because that was a whole jumpscare

- SHADOW MILK SEEMS SO FAMILIAR TO HIM BUT AT THE SAME TIME HES LIKE WHO ARE YOU AND WHY DO YOU KNOW SO MUCH ABOUT ME???? and hes weirded out by it so when the time comes he starts doubting his allegiance to shadow milk and debates on if he should stay with shadow milk or join pure vanillas side but shadow milk promised him a safe haven and that’s what mattered to him the most in that moment

- cue the doomed yaoi live laugh love shadowfish i say to myself and like maybe 2 other people

- he becomes the guy to be able to spot the cracks in shadow milk’s front and realize just how lonely he is but while shadow milk seems to be all over clownfish he does keep him at arm’s length in a way because he HAAATES being vulnerable

- so now hes like ohhhhhgh i miss white pearl but ogguhhgghhh i love shadow milk but oughhhhhh pure vanilla

- candy apple secretly reads shadowfish yaoi idc

like and subscribe hit that bell turn on notifications 🔔🔥 heres more of him

[thranduel]

this post has been in my drafts for a while and i started writing it before finn said this at a recent convention, but i'm posting it now because he mentioned E.T. again and has confirmed several times now that there's no love at first sight and that mike was basically fascinated by el because she has powers + is the only girl that’s given him attention. even lucas says this in the show:

anyways, in the stranger things worlds turned upside down book from YEARS ago (here is a photo of the page), finn says this about mike and el: “at first, he finds this girl and treats it like ‘oh i discovered something really cool’. then he kind of realised halfway through the second episode [that] this is an actual girl. it’s not E.T. it’s a person. he’s never even really talked to a girl, and now he’s teaching a girl to talk. i think he’s just drawn to her because one, she’s the first girl that’s ever had interest in him, and two, he has crazy interest in her and what’s going on in her brain”.

also, even without finn saying it himself more than once, we already knew there wasn't any love at first sight in the woods because...

sometimes i see people defend the 1x02 scene and say “mike only said this in front of lucas and dustin to sound cool because he was embarrassed about bringing a girl home, but didn’t mean it”, but he literally directly tells el this exact plan to her face IN THE SAME EPISODE 😭 he did mean it. this is a stranger to him and his best friend was missing, which was his priority. the next day when it’s just mike and el in the basement, he literally tells her to go to the front door and ring the doorbell and reassures her his mother will know what to do. this is the same plan he shared with lucas and dustin.

also, these screenshots show that he did get angry at her many times because he was so worried about will and he even says “lucas was right about you all along”, and again, lucas and dustin weren’t in the room here, so he wasn’t just saying that to impress them - he meant it. he was truly upset, angry and scared and his emotions were even more intense because of how worried he was about will.

and let me make this very clear - i’m not sharing this stuff to imply that mike doesn’t love el. i am very aware he does love and care for her as a person and they eventually do grow close. i’m just pointing out hypocrisy, lies and contradictions in the writing and making it very clear that mike’s monologue was not completely honest. parts of it didn’t even make sense and he only exaggerated and said those things in the moment because he was stressed and didn’t know what else to say, and it’s just frustrating seeing people act like it was the most “beautiful and romantic love confession” when it wasn’t, for SO MANY REASONS.

[littledeathdove]

Aah those headcanons were so good! I'm having such Miri brainrot x3 could you maybe write some hcs about Crow Wife and a partner who is very fragile and sickly?

I have such a weak immune system I swear I'm fighting some type of sickness like every other day atp xP

𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 ᯓ★

Scenario; Miranda with a sickly and fragile lover

A/N; EEEK thank you so much, I’m glad that my headcanons for MM made you satisfied! Also I love this request because Miranda with any topic of sickness? Yes give me it cause imma make some good fluff or angst with it 🫡. I don’t know if your currently sick anon but if so I hope you get better, I’ll feed you some brain rot food to help ofc

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

*°:⋆ₓₒ• First off, the Miranda that everyone knows is not the one you have come to see daily. Miranda can be very cruel, dismissive of things that don’t catch her interest, and overall selfish with her time and energy — since obviously she has more important stuff to care about. All of this? Yeah, all of these features of Miranda just go out of the window when she is with you.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• Miranda is very caring — as she can be — and attentive of you. While she already doesn’t have that much time to herself, she would sacrifice even that little bit of time to devote herself in watching over you and your state of health whenever needed.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• Miranda knows how gentle she must be with someone as fragile as you, so she is overall very gentle and cautious with her actions throughout the relationship. But there is times where that rougher side of her can show, usually it only comes out in two situations. First one is that you go against her orders which could possibly cause you to get sick.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• Miranda hates when you do this, definitely not because it reminds herself of her own stubbornness actions when the Spanish flu was going around which lead to a death you know very well about. Miranda is strong and confident in her abilities to make sure you never get too deadly sick, but she still has that lingering fear that you could end up in the same situation Eva was in.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• The second situation is when the frustration of her unsuccessful attempts to get her. This situation is always the worst to go through since Miranda would distance herself for a while but she will still take care of you from this distance. Now Miranda doesn’t apologize but she shows some subtle actions of apologizing, they are very subtle though.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• Now there is times where Miranda could be seen as neglectful but that truly only when you are in a better state of health and she is able to spend more time in the laboratory thanks to that. Honestly you do have to learn to just get used to this since Miranda still is learning on how to manage her time wisely with this relationship. Plus, Miranda would automatically believe you would just understand her need to be in the laboratory for such extended periods of times from the get go.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• Miranda would be very obsessed over keeping your health as perfect as possible. I swear that woman goes into a state of tension whenever you fall back under the weather. Is it because of Eva situation? Well yeah. Anyway, this woman will be doing daily checkups on your health almost as soon as she gets out of the laboratory/village and you into her hands.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• To just explain how obsessive this insane woman can get over your wellbeing, let me highlight a new change she caught.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• We all know by the state of her laboratory that Miranda is likely not the cleanest person, definitely not dirty but just likely to let shit clutter up. Well that is the second most drastic change in Miranda, cause now that woman keeps the place as clean as possible. She doesn’t even let dust stay on something for to long, it’s a crazy to see, but also so cute.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• Miranda is a curious person I will say, so she is usually always questioning you about something over your health. Rather it be how you feel to predictions of when you could get sick again. So hopefully you’re ready to experience that cause she will make you answer every question to the best of your ability.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• Trust these questions do come in handy to keep you from getting too sick since Miranda can usually figure out what’s wrong with your body just by simple answers and knowledge on small symptoms in certain illnesses. The woman is VERY intelligent after all and that smart brain don’t just come in handy for the mold.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• When it comes to your fragility Miranda doesn’t play when it comes to who you’re around. Honestly you will be staying in the house more just because of how paranoid and anxious Miranda could get over you getting possibly hurt. She knows first hand how someone fragile can meet their demise with a small slip up, and Miranda refuses to be in the situation of watching someone she loves experience the consequences of this slip up again.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• Thankfully Miranda is a very devoted and thoughtful — enough — lover when she is in love, so she makes it her mission to make sure you don’t get too bored when she demands you to stay home for the sake of your health. She will have her crow’s entertain you with silly actions, she’ll buy you books from the Duke (that she of course looked over before she accepted that they were of approval), and maybe even get you a tv that only takes films/DVDS if your more of a watcher then a reader

*°:⋆ₓₒ• While Miranda is definitely one prone to brag and show off, she will show you off more vocally then physically. It’s not like she doesn’t want to, but she just can’t risk the possibilities. She might take you to a lord meeting or two, maybe even to some meetings with Alcina — since Alcina takes it very serious to make sure your health stays safe by making the maids clean everything spotless, all to Miranda request of course.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• The winter lasts more longer in the village, and Miranda treats winter as if it’s the end of the world when it comes to you. She would buy you so much clothing that will be suitable for the cold weather, and if she has to go to such extremes she will even demand ask Donna to make you any clothing you need to stay warm. This is especially when you want to certain look in your new warm clothing.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• Soup season goes crazy with Miranda, I believe making soups is one of the top things Miranda is best at cooking. Miranda makes sure to make soups that will give you as much nutrients that you need to help you stay at least a bit more healthy.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• Though Miranda prioritize your nutritional intake she will still wish to satisfy your preference. So funnily enough this will lead to you being sat down at a table and becoming basically a judger of the soups she plans to make for you in the future. And Miranda is pretty strict so she’ll make sure to milk out all of your opinions of the soups she’s feeding you. (Also a showing of her perfectionism, but you didn’t hear that from me) This leaves you no excuse to eat all of the soup when gives it to you later on.

*°:⋆ₓₒ• Now let’s say that you somehow caught something from someone like in the village. Crash out Miranda will be coming out as soon as she finds out, cause of course it would that woman is always one step off from doing some crazy shit. I don’t even have to tell you what she does, but just know it’s bloodshed that night.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

A/N: Yelp that’s all I got! Loved making this little post, again it’s always interesting to have the trope of a sick lover with Miranda. Anyway,

I do hope you enjoy these headcanons anon!! 🫶🏾

[moonsdrs]

MY 60S FAME DR DREAM BLUNT ROTATION

BOB D. JOAN B. JIMI H.

inhale. cough. wheeze. laugh. pass.

"your turn." the blunt is passed from joan to bob. from bob to jimi. jimi to me. i wave my hand, shaking my head and opted to simply sip on my beer but jimi nudged his elbow into my side.

"go ahead." is what he says. i roll my eyes. must be like cigarettes, right? so, i take a hit and fucking choke. absolutely the fuck not.

"the fuck?" is all i can muster before i cough again, passing the blunt to joan who is just laughing her ass off at me. i get water in my hands before i can register it. take a sip. before i know it, the blunt is right back in my hand, reaching to my lips but this time with guidance of how to do it. not like cigarettes. not one bit.

"there ya go. better?" bob asks and i nod. the rotation goes like that for the next..well..i don't know how long. all i know is i'm laughing, having the time of my life and now there's a whole three boxes of pizza calling my name.

circa. summer 1968

note. i don't know how to smoke weed guys. or smoke in general. i don't even drink (apart from the occasional margarita when i'm feeling crazy). if anything looks wrong about how smoking works uh- yeah, cause i don't know how it works. this is just a scenario from the inside-my-head script i got going on that's messy as fuck and disorganized so sorrryyyy if it looks just as messy MY APOLOGIES.

also p.p.s. i haven't written a blurb scenario in literal years. i forgot how to write proper paragraphs for dialogues and shit. tbh i don't gaf but just apologizing for it being messy.

[maskedcrawford]

Hidden Secrets

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: Fate has a funny way of working things out.

Warnings: Angst, panic attack, fluffy fluff

A/N: To make this a little easier on myself I'm posting both chapters 6 and 7 tonight. I really hope you enjoy and I appreciate everyone who has ridden this insane rollercoaster so far. I also thank you for the love and support for my work, I put my all into it <3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6- Fate

It was a month and a half after your blow up with Jiyong and he still hadn’t gotten over it. He’d seen your calls, gotten your voicemails and he even would read your texts, letting you see that he read it, but he wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t, not when he made the promise to you that he was done. Not when he promised himself, he wouldn’t let you destroy him anymore.

Jiyong stares at the envelope he receivedfrom the mail man that morning on the counter. It had his name in your hand writing on it. He took a shot before deciding to open it.

“Ji, I know I’m the last person you want to hear from right now, but this wasn’t something I could put in a text. I miss you, a lot. I know you said you’re done, and I don’t blame you. I just really really miss you. I don’t deserve it, after what I did, and I don’t blame you for shutting me out, I deserve that. But I would really like the chance to talk. I’ve had a lot of time to think, alone in my apartment, and I’ve realized some things. Please at least consider it.

Xoxo

Y/n, FKA Your Girl.”

He sighs and sets the note down, noting the small tear marks on the page. He wanted to see you, he wanted to believe you’d changed or at least that you’d want to. Not having you beside him these last 6 weeks has been crazy, the sudden transition of seeing you everyday for years to now not talking has been extremely difficult and in all honesty, he had time to think too. Time to think about his own mistakes, time to question if he really did everything he could, but he wasn’t sure of the answer.

Despite his brain screaming at him, telling him its a mistake, he picks up the phone and presses your name. It rings a few times before he hears your hesitant and soft voice pick up.

“H-hello?”

“Hey,” is all he can mutter.

“I um,” he clears his throat, “I got the letter,” he squeezes his eyes tight, unsure of whether or not this is the right choice.

“I’m open to talking,” he says lowly. Your breath hitches and he waits to hear you respond.

“You still there?” he asks when he doesn’t hear anything.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here, um what about today?” you ask still unsure. He pinches the bridge of his nose in stress.

“Yeah, I can be there in 45 minutes,” he sighs.

“Ok, I’ll leave the door open.” He hangs up the phone and gets in the shower, allowing the hot water to beat his skin, trying to clear his mind. He constantly wondered if he was making the right choice, he wasn’t sure if he could trust you. He gets himself dressed and gets into his car.

Stopped at a red light, he sends you a text saying he’s 5 minutes out. When the light turns green all Jiyong can process is that its his turn to go. Then there's a loud crash and suddenly his body is lodged between the driver side door of his car and his console.

You pace your apartment; it’s been 15 minutes since he sent that text. You didn’t want to bug him, but you were concerned too. Jiyong was nothing if not punctual. After another 5 minutes you pick up your phone. You just want to know he’s safe. He’d understand that, right?

Before you can press the call button, his name comes up on your phone.

“Ji, I was just about to call you,”

“Uh,” you hear a random man’s voice begin to speak.

“I’m sorry who is this?”

“I’m officer Park, your friend here has been in an accident, you’re the Emergency Contact in his phone so we wanted you to know he’s going to ASAN Medical Center if you would like to see him.”

“Oh, wait, what, ok,” is all you can stammer out as your heart drops into your stomach.

“Is he alive?” your voice is filled with fear.

“Barely, your friend here got lucky. An inch closer to his door he would’ve been dead on impact,” your body shakes slightly with the anxiety coursing through it.

“I’ll be at the hospital in 10 minutes. Do I go to the ER side or,” you can’t think your mind is so jumbled.

“We’ll give the front desk your name at the hospital and they’ll bring you to him.” The man is sympathetic. You mumble a thank you and speed down the hospital.

You walk in, give the front desk woman your name she doesn’t have it.

“But, the guy, officer-officer Park said he’d give it to you, please I need to see him,” you plead with her.

“I don’t even see him in the system,” she looks at you helplessly.

“What,” you breathe out and hunch over some before you pass out or start hyperventilating. Your body feels like its shaking from the inside out. Just then you hear a man giving the woman your name and you stand straight up.

“I’m y/n, where is he?” the fear and worry in your eyes can’t be hidden. He gives you as solemn look and the woman opens the doors that lead back to the ER area. You go down the halls like a rat in a maze, growing more anxious by the minute. When you finally get to his room, the officer stops you before you open the door.

“He’s not going to look like you remember. It was bad, really bad,” you search his eyes. They’re sympathetic towards your plight.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” you nod your head and purse your lips in a tight line. You take a deep breath before you gently open the door and walk in.

You gasp at what you see, his hair is sticking up, bruises and cuts to his face, he’s unconscious with a tube down his throat. Your eyes water at the sight of his body. You slowly walk over to his beside and sit down in the chair beside the bed.

“Oh, baby I’m so sorry,” you sob quietly.

“If I hadn’t asked you to talk, you never would’ve left, and you wouldn’t be here,” you grab his hand gently. It’s warm, but lifeless. You look at him with blurry vision.

“Hi, I’m his nurse for the evening. You must be his wife,” she smiles. That’s a shot to the chest.

“Actually, I’m his ex,” you utter.

“Oh,” she offers you a smile that you aren’t sure is genuine.

“Well, he’s going into surgery, we need to get him prepped.” Your eyes grow wide.

��Sur-surgery? What does he need surgery for?” your vison once again starts to get blurry.

“He’s got multiple broken bones and some internal bleeding and a punctured lung.” She lowers the railing to his bed. The tears continue to fall to the cold floor beneath you.

“Oh, aein, I’m so sorry,” you whisper as you kiss his forehead and rest yours on his for a brief moment.

“I love you, my sweet boy,” you whisper to him, “So so much,” with one last kiss to the forehead you tear yourself away.

“Please take care of him,” you say with a weak voice and she nods.

“We’ll do our very best.” You give him one last look and walk out of the room. There are nurses and doctors rushing by you and you watch as they go into the room. They wheel him out and the nurse informs you that you can stay put in the room if you’d like. You nod your head and decide to call Taeyang to let him know what’s going on.

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes,” is his response. You go out to the lobby to wait for him and when you see him, all you can do is embrace one another.

“How is he?” Taeyang was always like a brother to you, he cups your face looking into your eyes.

“I don’t have an update yet,” you say solemnly. You both walk back his room.

“What the hell, y/n,” he mumbles.

“What?” you ask caught off guard.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong you guys had your share of issues,” he trails off.

“Yeah, and?”

“I just never thought I’d see the day you guys didn’t talk. That you weren’t apart of each other somehow someway,” your guilt pings in your chest.

“Yeah, well, here are now. So can we please focus on that until its settled,” you can’t meet his gaze. You both sit silent for a minute before he speaks up again.

“I let the guys know, they asked me to let them know when he’s out of surgery.” You nod your head.

“It’s been over an hour; you want anything to eat or drink?” you shake your head no. You couldn’t think of eating anything when your worry and guilt was eating away at you.

“I’m going to grab something, call me if there’s a change.” He leaves you alone with your thoughts. You can’t control the sobs that burst out of you when the door closes behind him. You start hyperventilating and luckily a nurse comes by the room and she notices you gasping for air. She opens the door and brings you a brown paper bag to help you breathe.

“In and out, there ya go.” She stands at a distance, giving you space to calm down. You slowly start breathing normally again, the bag helping and she offers you a small smile before stepping out.

“Wait,” you call and she turns on her heel.

“Is there any update on my boy- ex boyfriend,” your voice is hopeful but she nods her head no. Your shoulders sink and you nod. You close the door to the room and try to take your mind off the current situation.

Another few minutes later the doctor walks in.

“So, we were able to stop the bleeding, but he’s going to need help, a lot of it, he’s got some compressed nerves that are limiting the function of his hands and legs. Due to the extent of the compression it’s going to take at least 6-8 weeks to get some of his feeling back, if not a little longer. His body is in a lot of pain and its pretty broken even with our efforts. He won’t be able to do much on his own. Are you able to stay with him?” the doctor says and you raise your brows.

“I, uh, I’m not sure, I mean I will if no one else can, but I’m not sure he would want me there,” you glance at the floor.

“If he wants to live and have any quality of life again, he’ll take what he can get.” The doctor says.

“We’ll bring him down in about an hour. He’s waking up now,” you nod and thank the doctor.

Taeyang comes back in the room just as you’re about to call him and you explain what the doctor said.

“Can you stay with him?” you know it’s a long shot with his family.

“Not constantly.”

“It was worth a shot.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Can you, can you call his mom and sister?” You ask hopeful.

“Ji would kill me,” he jokes but seeing your face confused he explains, “He never wants them to worry, even when they would have a reason to,” you nod. He never really did like when people fussed over him too much.

“Listen, it might be awkward, but you’re the only one with the time on your hands,” he gently explains.

“I don’t know, Youngbae,” you sigh.

“We were supposed to talk but then this happened,” you trail off looking into the distance.

“Then that must mean he was at least willing to hear you out,” he reasons.

“Yeah, but this would require me to literally live there again.”

“So, do that. As friends and only friends,” he scolds as he wags a finger at you. You direct your gaze to the floor. You guys wait for the next hour and when the door opens and his bed rolls in you can see a groggy Jiyong with his eyes half open looking and smiling at Taeyang. You stay seated as he walks over to see his best friend.

“You look rough,” Taeyang jokes and Jiyong tries to laugh, but he lets out a groan.

“We’ll give him something for the pain,” the nurse says gently and you both nod at her and Taeyang makes eye contact with you. Jiyong notices and follows his gaze to see you sitting there sheepishly. His eyes open a little more.

“I’m going to call the guys and let them know you’re out of surgery and they can come up tomorrow to see you,” he puts a hand on Jiyong’s shoulder and exists the room. It’s silent, an awkward silence but you decide to stand up anyway. He watches you tiptoe to him, holding your arms over your frame, as if that makes this less intimidating. You instinctively reach out and touch his cheek, but he pulls his face away.

“You can go,” his tone is angry, harsh, and the words, they sting.

“What if I don’t want to,” you ask sitting on the edge of his bed. He looks at you, and for the first time you get to see the damage done in detail. A black eye, bruised cheek, a cut the lip and small bruises on his forehead. You exhale when he just stares at you, cold and unfeeling.

“What if I want you to?” he glances up from the blanket he was looking at when he spoke.

“If that’s what you want, tell me to leave and I’ll go.” You stand up, bracing yourself for the words. He parts his lips for a moment, but he can’t make himself tell you to leave. He closes his mouth and purses his lips with closed eyes. You exhale a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You relax your shoulders and sit down on the bed again.

“Doc says you’ll need help once you get out of here,” you mumble after a moment of silence.

“I’ll figure something out,”

“I don’t mind helping, Jiyong. That is, if you want it,” you can’t look at him, but instead the floor of the emergency room.

The nurse comes in before he can even try to protest.

“We need to get you moved to a room. You’ll be here for a few days so we can monitor you.” The nurse takes the bed and you update everyone on what’s happening.

In the room you sit beside him in one of those reclining chairs beside the bed. He dozes off from the pain medication and you start sketching something in a book you brought in your purse. A nurse brings his dinner in and she politely brings something for you as well.

“Ji,” you touch him as gentle as dove, trying not to hurt him. He stirs and opens his eyes to look at you.

“Hmm,” he mutters.

“Your dinner is here,” you point at the table sitting above his bed. He looks at it and tries to pick up the fork but his hand won’t grasp it.

“Shit,” he says under his breath and for a moment you watch him, unsure if you should step in. After a couple of failed attempts he turns his head to the side.

“I’m not hungry,” his voice is quiet but frustrated. You lower the railing to his bed and he looks at you surprised. Quietly you get some food on his fork and hold it to his mouth. He looks in your eyes with a frustrated look.

“If you’re gonna survive this, you gotta eat. Plain and simple,” he slowly opens his mouth with furrowed brows, looking like a small child.

“You don’t have to feed me,” he says with food in his mouth.

“No, I don’t,” you get another bite for him.

“But I’m going to.” You grab a napkin and dab his mouth. You both stare at each other. You clear your throat and turn your attention to his tray. You pick up a drink for him and he takes a sip. Once he’s finishes you sit down and eat the small snack the nurse brought for you.

“Go get something to actually eat, I’ll be fine.” He says.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Y/N,” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Ji, I’m not leaving you.” Your stubbornness evident.

“Not again,” you mumble to yourself.

“Then at least order some real food,” he stares at the TV.

“Will that make you happy,” you ask and he glances at you.

“Wouldn’t make me angry,” he slightly shrugged before wincing in pain.

“Being a sarcastic smart ass is gonna cost for a little while,” you smirk and he rolls his eyes. You order something to eat and as you go to put your card info in, he protests.

“Just use mine, I know it’s stored,” he says his eyes not looking away from the TV on the wall.

“I have my own money, I don’t need,”

“Just like I don’t need you here helping me, but you’re doing it anyway.” He look at you with a small smirk, using your own logic against you.

“Ji, really,” you try to protest.

“It’s fine, just use my card. You relent just using his money get something to eat. It arrives and you go to the nurses station to pick it up. Walking back in he watches you closely.

“Here, don’t tell the nurse,” you wink as you set the vanilla shake down on the tray. He quirks a brow up at you.

“I didn’t ask for-”

“No, but you also didn’t ask for this,” you motion around the room, “and I’m trying to be nice.”

He sighs in defeat, once again wincing in pain. You check the clock.

“I’ll grab the nurse, it’s time for your medication.” Before he can even protest you’re out the door looking for one.

She comes in a dispenses the necessary pain meds and leaves once he takes them. The room is awkwardly silent again.

“Thank you,” he mumbles when you come over to put the cup up to his lips.

“For what?” you ask confused.

“For being here, staying, here.” His voice is quiet and you offer him a sweet smile.

“There’s no where else I’d rather be.”

That night the two of you get little to no sleep, the chair there is completely uncomfortable and the nurses keep waking him up to get his vitals. You hold on to his left arm anytime they need to get his blood pressure because of how bad it hurts and you’re trying to offer him some comfort.

The next morning comes and the guys all show up to the hospital with gifts from the gift shop and Taeyang brings a bag over to you.

"Some snacks and a word search to help pass the time." He shrugs.

“Thank you,” you hug his neck and for a moment you feel like everything might somehow wind up being ok. The guys stay for a while and you decide to take a minute to get some fresh air. Seunghyun follows you out.

“Hey,” he calls as you get on the elevator. You offer him a smile.

“Thanks for taking such good care of him, if we could,” he offers you a sincere look.

“I know,” you nod and sigh.

“I just didn’t expect this to be, what it is.” You can’t really describe it because you don’t really know what it is. Is it awkward, is it easy, is it stressful? All of the above.

“It’s not easy,” he puts a hand on your shoulder. You rub your forehead.

“And I feel like it’s my fault he’s even here. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“If I hadn’t asked him to talk,”

“Hey,” Seunghyun’s arm goes around your shoulder pulling you into his side.

“He offered to come over, this isn’t your fault and this isn’t his fault. It’s the dumbass driver who hit him. He ran a red light.” He tries to reason with you, to ease some of the guilt.

“You really should go home, even if it’s just for a little while. Take a nap, get some actual rest. I can stay today until you can come back.” He offers.

“What if something happens? No, I need to be here.”

“IF something happens, I’ll call you myself.”

“I just don’t want to be away from him,” you mumble as you step outside into the cool spring air.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later. Rest while you can, because he’s likely to be a handful at home.” You nod your head knowing he’s right.

“Call me in an hour,” you point at him. He nods as he walks you to your car. You go back to your apartment for a quick nap, or at least that’s what you tried to do. You kept tossing and turning your mind slowly starting to process the craziness of the day. You stare at the ceiling before deciding you can’t sleep. You pick up your phone and see a text from Seunghyun.

Doctor came in, said Jiyong looks good and he can go home tomorrow morning. Ji wants me to help you move some of your stuff back to his place so you have what you need.

You get up immediately and call him.

“Hey, I’m on my way to your place now.”

“Is someone with him?”

“Daesung is staying, calm down.” He chuckles.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you grumble.

“Relax, I wouldn’t leave him by himself, knowing him, he’d try to get up and walk out now.” You both chuckle at his stubbornness. Seunghyun gets to your place and you guys start boxing stuff up.

“From now on, I’m living out of boxes,” you joke and he smiles nodding his head.

“You know,” he starts as he packs some of your clothes in a box, “He really hasn’t been the same since you left.” You freeze and look at him through the vanity mirror where you were gathering up your makeup.

“Seunghyun, I,”

“Just listen,” he asks but in a way that’s telling you to do so.

“Don’t get me wrong you two are no where near perfect, but when things were good, it was obvious and he thrived.” You smile fondly on the memories.

“But when things were bad,” you dared to ask.

“It was obvious in his countenance. But he still talked about you like you were the love of his life. Even after he told us about your big blow up.” You nod sadly.

“At the hospital,” he beings as he tapes a box up for you as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“He was talking about how you were there and he didn’t necessarily need you, and we all jumped his ass for it because he knows he does.” Seunghyun shakes his head.

“And he admitted something that you can’t tell him, not yet at least.” You turn around and put your full attention on him.

“Despite everything, he admitted he misses you and that it’s going be nice to have you, and I quote, ‘home’.” Your heart skips a beat and for a moment your breath hitches and you can’t breathe.

“But, don’t tell him you know. He isn’t ready for that conversation yet. The doctors also said he needs to stay as calm as possible. So no teasing,” he scolds playfully. You give him a genuine hug.

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Come on, let’s get this stuff back to his place, so you can unpack and get settled before he gets home.” You drive in your car to familiar house that sits back off the road. Opening the door it smells like home, it smells like what you remember. Princess Zoa even comes to greet you at the door.

“Hi, baby,” you coo as you set the box down and scratch behind her ears. She purrs and meows at you endlessly as she goes in between your legs. After a moment you make sure to put her up so she can’t get out while you unload your things for a second time in this house.

As you spread a blanket out in the living room, you do a double take. You notice a familiar painting in a beautiful gold frame.

“He-he framed it?” you ask yourself.

“Oh, yeah, you know when he first saw that, he went on and on about it. He even took a picture of it and sent it to us.” Your eyes water and you blink it back.

“I can’t believe he kept it,” you mumble. And you can feel Seunghyun’s gaze on you, carefully. He smiles feeling a sense nostalgia.

“We should get this finished,” he mumbles tapping the box in his hands with his fingertips.

“Yeah,” you sniffle slightly. You hadn’t expected the gesture to hit you so hard.

“He really did love me,” you say to yourself with a deprecating laugh, your voice is sorrowful.

“Yeah.” Seunghyun agrees.

“And I was horrible to him,” you whimper as you cover your face. He looks at you for a moment before wrapping his arms around you.

“It’s not too late to start fresh,” he reminds you.

“He said he was done forever, Seung,”

“I know what he said.” He strokes your hair trying to help you calm down.

“Look, just do what you’ve been doing. Show him the love you really have for him. And when the time comes, after he’s healed and feeling better, talk to him. Explain it all.” You nod and pull away from him. He smiles at you and after a few hours everything is unpacked, even your art supplies and canvases.

Back at the hospital that night, Jiyong and Daesung are chatting.

“Man, if you miss her just tell her that,” Jiyong cuts his eyes at his bandmember.

“Ok, or don’t,” he trails off and darts his gaze elsewhere.

“You know why I can’t tell her that. I told her I was done, that we were done forever. So regardless of whether or not I miss her, I need to keep my word,” his voice is serious.

“Dude, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” Jiyong shoots his brows up and his eyes are big as saucers.

“What the,” he’s interrupted by his friend once more.

“You're going crazy without her,”

“I went crazy with her!”

“Yeah, fair point, but you still love her and you know it,” he points at his friend. Jiyong looks at his hands in his lap. He doesn’t protest. He knows he does. Part of him can’t wait to have you back at home, but part of him is scared too. He just got used to how quiet the house was without you. Now you’re coming back and he had no idea what was going to happen.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Daesung calls out. You and Seunghyun walk in and you have on a large jacket with a bump under it. Jiyong eyes you suspiciously as a soft meow comes from it. Before you know it, Zoa has popped her little head out and meows looking around.

Jiyong can’t help the genuine smile that grows from ear to ear, causing his eyes to squint slightly with a soft laugh. You put the cat in his lap gently and she purrs.

“I can’t let her stay long, but I figured she missed you and you missed her,” he looks at his fur-child with all the love in the world and for the first time since this morning, things felt somewhat calm and under control.

There’s a knock on the door and you scramble to grab Zoa who hisses when you try to pick her up. The nurse comes in and spots the cat, eyeing you guys suspiciously. You give her an awkward smile, one that’s trying to apologize for sneaking in a cat.

“Just get her out of here by the time shift change happens. Which is in,” she looks at her watch, “An hour,” she says and you nod.

“Thank you,” you wave her off and Jiyong, while he can’t pick much of anything up due to numbness in his hands, pets his cat the best he can. The room is silent for a minute other than the sound of the purring from Zoa.

“Thank you, he says suddenly, “For bringing her.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem," you gently smile.

“Were you able to get everything moved in?” He doesn’t look at you, only at his furbaby as the guys stand there feeling like they are watching an awkward movie.

“Yeah, Seunghyun was a big help and I got everything squared away.” You rock on your heels looking at the guys who look just as unsure as you do.

“As much as I want to keep her here, take her home. I’ll see her tomorrow,” he gives the cat a few kisses and snuggles before handing her to Seunghyun.

“You don’t want me to take her back?” you ask with a quirked brow.

“No, I want you to stay." Your breath hitches in your throat.

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I'm working on Chapter 7 now and I'll tag you guys when it's out later today.

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