#i'm well aware that if we do it'll still probably be the last one

[jdorian]

tbh the st denis renewal isn't much of a news, they were as good as confirmed when it started airing

[alphabetboyluvr]

HUSH | MYG - TWO

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)

premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!

wc: 10k

for more details, pls see the master list (x)

note from holly: if you've read hush over on wattpad, then you've already seen this! sorry!! but this is everything that was on wattpad--the next upload will be 100% fresh hehe

warnings: alcohol, foul language, creepy men in bars, sexting (minimal!! very brief!), yoongi is both an asshole and a good guy, oc and yoongi are dumb!! and argumentative!! we learn a teeny tiny bit more lore for the night that never was!!

the app (x) | the band (x) | part one (x)

minors dni!!!

GOLDEN CLOSET STUDIO Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"Back again so soon?" Jungkook grins when you traipse into his studio the next morning. 

Slumping down onto the sofa with a groan, you get comfortable like it's a second home to you. Only just gone midday, you're exhausted. You'll tell anyone who asks that you went out for a morning run, but you'll be lying through your teeth.

See, what made you tired may have given flushed cheeks, but sadly no cardio was involved. Just some pixels. Words. Another goddamn video call of a bedroom you know so damn well but have never stepped foot within. From his belly button down, you'd recognise your Damocles boys in a heartbeat. Wonder if you'd be able to tell if you saw him in the wild, fully clothed. 

You doubt it.

No, what's made you so tired isn't the things that get you up in the morning, but rather the things that keep you up all night.

Or just 'thing'.

A singular.

You're not sure you want to classify him as a person, because currently he's just pixels on a screen - but the images those pixels so often make? The dirty words that form in negative spaces just for you to see?

Yeah. You think that he's too good to be true. Can't be a real man.

"Meeting," you mumble into the cushion of the chair. "You know how many logistics are involved in taking you guys on tour? It's mad."

"Logistics?" He snorts, knowing your job has nothing to do with that side of the business.

"I'm shadowing," you reply. "Jinyu sweet-talked someone she knows in that department. Following one of the planners around for the week."

"Really tryna work your way up, huh?" Jungkook asks, before quietly musing, "Hope Jinyu'll sweet-talk me some time."

He's not wrong. About working your way up, that is. Jinyu will never sweet-talk him.

Big Hit is a great stepping stone - an industry outlier, built from the ground up - but you don't want to be in your brother's shadow for too long. 

You fear it'll look like you're complacent; as if you want an easy life that you don't have to work hard for. Get some experience, get a good reference, and get out; that's the plan. Maybe work somewhere overseas, away from the confines of your family name.

You don't entertain Jungkook's musings, instead opting to shuffle a little further into his sofa. It's leather and still smells brand new - not because it is, but because Jungkook is meticulous in his cleaning regimes. Will probably wipe it down after you leave. Is perhaps the neatest rockstar you've ever known - not that you know all that many. 

And that's exactly your issue; even if you want to get out of Seokjin's shadow, you've no idea where to turn to. Bright light saturates everything else. Here, you're hidden. Safe. Comfortable.

Well, comfortable except for one particular thorn in your side.

"Get your song sorted with Yoongi last night?" You ask, genuinely curious about it. You're also incredibly nosey, and Yoongi is a dick. What you'd like to hear is that he's annoyed and frustrated, because that's how he makes you feel. 

It's selfish to think that way. The album cycle is well and truly underway, and the boys are cramming every spare moment into perfecting it. You aren't too aware of the process, you just know that Yoongi speaks to you even less now that the stress is mounting.

They're made for the stage. Would spend all day every day performing, if it was sustainable. Don't enjoy the downtime - but you think it's because the slowness of it all interferes with their live fast, die young bullshit.

Jungkook shakes his head. "It's missing something. Can't figure out what. We're gonna leave it until after the Europe dates. Hopefully will have found some inspiration over there."

You accept his answer without a response. Know that any advice you could give would be redundant. You don't know the first thing about music production, and think it would be a waste of energy to float ideas for a song you've not even heard.

"Think Yoongi needs to rest," Jungkook muses a little mindlessly. "Was here till stupid o'clock last night."

You mumble a response, and Jungkook takes it as an indication to continue.

"Last email he sent was at like, what? Three in the morning? How his brain could've still been working, I've no idea."

"He's a night owl," you hum, as if it's a new discovery. "Works better that way. It's like you work best after a good sleep. He works best a little sleep-deprived."

"Yeah but how?!"

"I dunno. Brain science. Ask Yoongi. He probably knows. Psychology n shit."

Jungkook just rolls his eyes. He won't be asking Yoongi.

Just like he also won't be asking Yoongi if he wants to join you all for drinks later that evening. 

That job? Yeah, that's up to you.

Neither you, Jimin, nor Jungkook wanna ask Yoongi, mainly because you all know he'll just say 'no.' What's the point?

A fierce battle of rock-paper-scissors had been fought earlier that evening, and you'd been the poor sod declared as the loser.

Already half a bottle down, they're drinking in Jungkook's studio (even if Hoseok strictly forbode it the last time they got legless at work (as if his orders have ever stopped them from doing anything they wanted)) when you finally meet them again. 

They're getting a headstart on the evening's festivities.

It's nothing special. Just a chance for them all to hang out properly after the Seoul shows.

They rarely ever 'hang out', 'cause work often feels like that anyway. It's only when they take a break that they realise how much they enjoy each other's company. A few days rest from one another is always welcome - but exceed three days, and they start to get withdrawal symptoms.

"Ready to go?" You ask, but are met with curt shakes of their heads.

Jimin passes you the bottle of beer he's been nursing on. As you take a swig, he reminds you, "You've not asked Yoongi yet."

Lips pressed to the rim of the bottle, you roll your eyes. Have half a mind to backwash in retaliation, but you don't fancy bickering this early on in the night.

Shaking your head, you swallow down the froth. "He'll say no."

"Buuuuut," Jungkook sings, as if he thinks he can serenade you into asking Yoongi. "What if he says yes?"

"Well, one of you can ask!" You whine. Yoongi's studio is the last place you want to go to - especially after the messages he sent you last night, warning you about your relationship with Jungkook. "Give him your doe eyes, Kook. It'll work."

A game of rock, paper, scissors is legally binding, though. Jungkook tells you so. Says if you don't go and ask Yoongi, he'll be forced to take you to court.

"I've got Big Hit lawyers," he reminds you.

"Is this a threat?!"

"Yep. Now go ask Yoongi!"

You argue a little longer. Jimin takes two shots during that time. Jungkook interpretive dances whenever you make a compelling statement as to why you shouldn't be the one asking. You frown whenever he does the robot.

And so, mainly to get away from any more of Jungkook's bizarre hip-gyrations, you traipse down to the end of the corridor, where Yoongi's so-called Genius Lab resides.

The wait at his door is awkward. You question yourself, what you'll say, how you should stand. First impressions are everything, and if he's greeted with shitty energy, he'll give it back in return. You know him well enough to know this for a fact.

After a lifetime of waiting (27 seconds, to be exact), there's a mechanical whir of the lock coming undone.

"Hey," you offer a smile as you're greeted with his typical face of thunder. "Been sent to retrieve you. We're going out tonight. All of us."

He knows the plans. Is in the group chat. Ignored the messages for a reason.

His stare is a little frosty but not unkind. Just uninterested. "Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both?"

You might be deluding yourself, but you think he smiles slightly when he says that.

"Ah, but you can and you will go to the ball, Cinders," you joke, giving him a small curtsy. "All work no play makes Yoongi a dull boy."

You're joking, but you believe it. He's been miserable the last few months. Keeps himself hauled up in his studio when they're not on the road, and avoids social interaction like the plague. It maddens you. How is he gonna write songs about life and the importance of living one, if he won't let himself do the same?

He's hard to read as he sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Shakes his head, then opens his door a little wider. Encourages you into his space.

A candle burns on his desk, faintly vanilla in its scent, making it feel far cosier than actually is. The room is sullen; dark greys and little else. In fact, it surprises you he's gone for such a pretty cream candle. LED lights that are hidden in the walls glow a deep blue, and it's no wonder he's so miserable. There's no passion in his little pit. No life. Just him, some screens, and the whir of computer fans.

"Will you give something a listen?" He asks, quite clearly seeing you as a last resort - but when you hit rock bottom, the only direction you can go in is up. He knows you're not musical, not like Jin, but perhaps he needs the ear of a consumer, not a creator. "Been wracking my brain trying to think of what this needs. Have listened to it so many times that nothing sounds right anymore. I just- Could you?" He pauses. Looks quite uncomfortable when he adds, "Please?"

You assume the file up on the central screen is the song he's been working on with Jungkook, so you oblige. Kick your shoes off and leave them by the mat. It's been a while since you've been given the luxury of access to the Genius Lab. You used to know the code.

Things with Yoongi used to be different, though.

Not much has changed within his four dark walls since then. He's gained a new painted canvas in the corner of the room, stacked behind the existing ones. It's deep navy blue. Sort of like him, you think. The blue continues. Illuminates his work area. No wonder he never sleeps. The mood lighting is cold. Alert. Is bound to fuck with his brain.

There are more speakers than you can fathom, and switchboards you can't even begin to understand. The programs that Yoongi's running on his computers are familiar, though. You've seen them enough times to get a rough idea of the composition. Can see tabs labelled for Jin's vocals.

Yoongi turns his chair as the door clicks shut, automatic lock whirring into place. There was a time when that sound would have excited you. Not for any lewd, scandalous reason - just for the fact there used to be a time, many moons ago, when you thought Min Yoongi was the hottest man to have ever graced the earth.

And can you blame yourself?

His midnight hair gracefully frames his face, perfectly waved, dark eyes stark against his pale complexion. His skin is dewy, cheeks a little puffy from his lack of sleep and the fact all he has in his system is an iced americano and blue Powerade - yet still, his features are sharp. A white shirt hangs off his broad shoulders, dainty bracelets sitting on his pretty wrists.

Every bit the heartthrob, he's only gotten better with age - but you've grown up, too. Are wiser now. Understand that devastatingly handsome men will always inevitably devastate you, too.

It's for that reason Min Yoongi doesn't bother you in the same ways that he used to. That, and the night that never was.

As you said, devastatingly handsome men will only ever devastate you, too. He's proven that point already.

He points to his chair. "Sit."

The way he's so demanding with his tone annoys you. You shake your head. Choose to stand. "It's cool. Just play the song."

You don't mean to be so sharp. So curt. You're just thinking about how unbearable he's been recently - especially last night. He'd left you on read. Obviously wasn't happy with your response, not that you care.

"Please don't be difficult," he says softly. "Just sit so you can listen properly."

Why your stature could possibly impact your ears and their ability to listen, you'll never know - but you don't argue. As much as Yoongi's contempt for you these days annoys you, you don't want to make it any worse than it already is.

The leather of his chair is warm from his perch. Kind of nice how despite his cool demeanour, he's always a little toasty. He brings the heat of Daegu with him wherever he goes.

"I'm all ears," you tell him, and watch as he presses down on the play button.

"It's not the full song," he says over the melody of an upbeat track. "You'll know the bit I mean though. It's like, not bad, but-"

"Yoongi, shush," you smile, making sure you catch his eye as you do so. Don't want him to think you're snapping. You just wanna hear the sections he's uncertain about in context with the rest of the song.

Quiet as the track begins to echo out, there's an uncharacteristically quaint piano faintly guiding the track. You know he plays, but it's rare for it to be a focal part of the songs he creates.

You understand immediately which section Yoongi's having trouble with - not because it sounds bad, just because the drop before the final chorus doesn't hit quite right. It builds and builds but the arrival at the final chorus is underwhelming.

"Rewind it a bit," you say, wanting to hear it again. Confirm that it's the right part.

Yoongi does as you ask, leaning over you slightly, and says, "Somethings off, right?"

Nodding, you listen for a third time. "Take away the guitar," you say.

He does. It's better, but still not right.

"Maybe you've overcomplicated it?" you muse, thinking that he needs to strip it back entirely, but not wanting to offend him.

"Hmm," he hums. "You think?"

He mutes a few more layers on the track. Plays it again. It's getting there.

"Better, right?" you ask.

He nods as he stands up straight, listening to it over again. Frowns. "Still not quite there."

"I think it might benefit from some distance," you suggest. "Come out with us tonight. Get your mind off this track. Might even get some inspiration."

Shaking his head, he watches as you stand and head towards the door. He's not been out with you since the night that never was. Doesn't enjoy the prospect of risking it all after a couple of drinks inevitably turns into a couple of bottles again - of which he knows it will. If you and Jimin are together, it will be messy. Just how it goes. Throw Jungkook and Tae into the mix? Disaster waiting to happen.

"Look," you sigh. "I know it's not really your thing - but the rest of the boys are game. They all want you there. Just think about it, okay?"

He purses his lips together. Smiles, and turns to face his computer screen once more. "Thanks for your help."

And just like that, you're dismissed. Considering the way he'd messaged you about Jungkook the day before, it went pretty well, you think. Try not to dwell on the fact he couldn't be less interested even if he tried.

It's funny, 'cause as Yoongi stews in his chair, rocking ever so gently, he sighs. Shakes his head. Grumbles to himself quietly: "'they all want you there'... but do you want me there?"

The boys aren't so disappointed when you return with no Yoongi behind you. They all knew what his answer would be, and only sent you so they didn't have to deal with his rejection.

"Took your time," Jimin notes.

You shrug. Deadpan. "Yeah, sorry, got distracted. Too busy shagging him."

"Really?!"

"No, of course not," you laugh, as if it's the funniest suggestion in the world. You sort of think it is. "Nah, he just wouldn't be convinced."

And so it comes as a surprise to everyone when Yoongi shows up at Jimin's place a couple of hours later with a bottle of whisky in hand.

"Shut the fuck up," is all he says as he walks into an absolute commotion, practically everyone in the room elated by his decision to join in. He hides his smile poorly, occasionally letting his teeth show despite his protests.

From the sofa, you catch his eye. Nod. He bunches up his face a little. Nods back - but is quickly distracted by Jimin holding up a clear shot glass filled with fuck knows what. You, too, find yourself distracted by chatter with the rest of the boys and a couple of the girls from the artist liaison team.

In the corner of the room, your phone is plugged into a charger. It's been there since you arrived. You've no need to check it - but you can never leave it too long.

You smile, butterflies kissing your tummy and making their way through your body when you eventually check it.

D4m0cl3s: got a work thing tonight, so probably won't be able to message much gonna be thinkin' about u tho don't miss me too much, clemmie x

The smile is hard to hide. You blame it on the alcohol.

Kind of like how Yoongi smiles half an hour later when he checks his own phone.

Cl3m3ntin3: been a busy bee today, sorry :( all work, no play? :( it'll make you dull, damocles boy x

But then he watches you as you laugh with Jungkook about something trivial. Reads over his messages again. Shakes his head.

Remembers you trying to convince him to join for the evening. How you'd called him Cinders. Told him that all work and no play made him dull.

His heart thuds in his chest. He swallows harshly. Pours a whisky. Swallows that, too.

Breathes a sigh of relief as he taps through a message - 'it's a play thing for work. promise i'll behave x' - and watches your phone after it's marked as 'delivered' in his chat feed.

Your phone is screen-up on the kitchen counter, just within his line of vision. It doesn't light up. Doesn't vibrate. Receives no message.

"Thank fuck," he mumbles, the sinking feeling in his chest lifting as he grabs a fresh whisky.

He quickly walks away from the scene of a crime that never was. Sort of like the night that never was. Is so pleased, in fact, that he's happy to sit beside you on the sofa as Jungkook sets up a drinking game with Jin.

Silly, really, how a few drinks seem to make him forget the concept of 'do not disturb' mode.

"Hey," you smile and he comes to sit down. "Glad you made it."

"Me too," he nods, lips thin, chin dimpling as a shy smile graces his face. He's a little whisky tipsy. Doesn't feel the need to keep such a strict distance from you, now.

"To a good night," you raise your glass to him, and he reciprocates. Clinks them together.

"To a good night."

STAIRWAY BAR Itaewon-ro, Yongsan-Gu

♪ // You First (Re: Remi Wolf)- Paramore

"You're never gonna be this young and this hot again," Jimin slurs after a few too many lemon drops. It's his third time making this point, because it's the third time you've shooed away a guy trying to make a move on you.

They've all been perfectly fine. Nice enough guys, you're sure, but you aren't interested in random hookups. The night really isn't about that. All you want to do is let your hair down with the boys you've known for most of your life.

As Jimin whines about the fact no one is ready to move onto a club yet, bored of the bar, part of you considers the novel idea that one of the men in your rejection pile could have been your Damocles boy. A funny thing to think about, really. He did say he was busy tonight. Said it was for work, but everyone knows how rowdy work dinners can get after the boss leaves.

He could be here. Could have his tail between his legs. Could be looking at you right now, without a clue.

The reality of that wouldn't please you, for it would mean he's out there searching for other women.

While he'd be well within his right to, you selfishly find that that you don't want him to. In fact, all you wanna do is send him a message. Let him know you're thinking of him. That you wish you were at home right now, alone in your sheets with nothing but an internet connection and that damn app to keep you company.

You're with friends, though. Can't open the app without fear of endless ridicule - and not to mention the fact your brother is with you. Not worth it.

As you come to join them, a fresh drink in your hand, you're easily distracted. Are brought back to reality by your favourite people. Neon lights on the ceiling, and relics of time spent in the bar pinned to the walls. Photobooth pictures, foreign currency. Life is embedded into the seams of this place, and it's reassuring, in a way. Makes your dependency on your Damocles boy a lot less intense. You can forget him. Live life. Neglect to check your phone.

"Objection!" Jungkook chimes, following you and Jimin to the corner booth of the bar where the rest of your friends sit. "Older women are, like, so hot. So damn hot. Damn." And then he's thinking to himself. Brows furrowed, pouty lips whistling out a hearty sigh as he shakes his head. Thinks about Jinyu. A couple of the older women at the record company. About Jimin's mother. Laughs. Nods. "Yeah, older women are where it's at."

Both of you look at him with an air of confusion, and yet neither of you question it.

"What did I miss?" Jin beams when he rejoins you, as a member of the bar staff follows him with a bottle of Ciroc resting in an ice bucket. Another staff member will soon bring you cans of drink to use as mixers, but you know damn well these boys will be shotting it down straight.

The bottle won't be on the house, but you know Jin will have charged it back to the company. Will get a bollocking from Hoseok the next time he's in the office. Doesn't care, cause he knows the band makes the record company more money than anyone else on the roster at the moment. The way he sees it, it's their money anyway.

"Jungkook's just declared his love for older ladies," Taehyung deadpans from the sofa opposite yours. "Nothing new."

"Better older than younger," Jin asserts, playfully pushing against your forehead as he walks past you and back to his seat.

As much as you're your own person, you're still his little sister, and the rest of his unruly group of friends will do well to remember that.

Jungkook snorts. Throws a smirk in your direction. "I can make exceptions."

"And I can get away with murder, Kook," Jin assures him - and he's probably right. As much as they like to play into the rock and roll lifestyle, they've got power. Fame. Something that hides them just as much as it projects them. "Don't even think about it."

There's laughter and chatter amongst everyone at such a declaration, but you can't help but wonder if a certain pair of eyes glanced your way upon hearing that.

It's not like Yoongi doesn't know Jin harbours such feelings. Told you the exact same thing, once: that Jin'd murder Jungkook if anything ever happened between the pair of you.

But you also remember what came next.

Even if it's never been spoken about since, you know that remembers, too. The way he refused to reply to your last text is testament to it.

See, he's been avoiding you since long before you got your little job with the company. Would turn down plans if you were in attendance. Declined invites to dinner, and bailed on drinks. Once you started working in such close proximity, it was harder to keep his distance, and so he built up walls.

They're steep, and they're topped with barbed wire. Impenetrable, or so it would seem.

Climbing has never been a strong point of yours, and scaling walls doesn't feel like a pastime you'd enjoy very much, so Yoongi's safe distance from you is kept. He's feline, in that way; how he'll stalk up trees and sit in amongst the branches, peering down at you. Out of reach, holding all the cards.

Flicking your eyes across to him, you find him embroiled in conversation with Namjoon. He's laughing, which admittedly does make you smile. It's been so long since you've been afforded the luxury of witnessing such a thing.

But you're torn from your thoughts by a sudden, sharp tug on your wrist, and don't even realise Jimin is dragging you out of your seat until you're already stumbling behind him. With a shrill yelp and soft giggle, you let him pull you to the stairs that lead up from the basement bar to the earthly realm above.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, as if you have any choice in the matter. He's got a death grip on you. You're coming along whether you like it or not. "The rest of them are being boring. I wanna dance."

"Maybe I was enjoying being boring!" You argue just for the sake of it, tapping at your pockets to make sure you've still got your phone with you. Not for any particular reason. Just to be safe. Totally not because you fear losing your only contact with your virtual lover. Nothing like that at all.

"Tough," Jimin asserts, not caring where you both end up just as long as there is a dancefloor and a dark corner.

It isn't for any sinister reason, but just because he isn't looking to be the life and soul of the party. His face isn't recognised in the same way that the other boys are, but it doesn't matter. He attracts attention regardless. Goes with the territory of having a face like his. Irresistible to men and women alike. You're yet to meet anyone who doesn't think he's the most beautiful man alive - though Jin certainly does take issue with such a title being awarded to anyone else but him.

But just like Jin, there's a magnetism about Jimin. Moths to a flame, the rest of the boys follow suit and head up towards the street. The entire area code is a cluster of bars and hole-in-the-wall food joints. It's made for this time of the night, when the clouds are shielding the eyes of the moon from all sorts of sin, just a few stray stars guiding the way.

Light pollution bleeds upwards and out. Even if you know the stars are there, you can't see them - and it's not like you get the chance to check either way, for Jimin's already pulling you down the stairs to another basement bar.

This one is larger - two stories. Quieter on the first floor, it's the second level where he wants to be.

A planner in both professional and personal life, even though he seems erratic and all out of order, Jimin has everything under control. Knows the managers of most (if not all) of the bars on this street. Called a favour in this afternoon for one of the downstairs booths, just adjacent to the dancefloor, to be roped off & reserved. Knew that some of the boys would, in his mind, be 'boring', but still wanted everyone together. It's the best of both worlds. He can dance, and they can talk, or whatever they wanna do.

♪ // Desert Eagle - Silica Gel

Min Yoongi doesn't dance. He drinks. He observes. He watches the debauchery unfold from a safe distance, much like he does with you. Sometimes - not always - he thinks. Ponders. Wonders if maybe he's wasting his time by not indulging in the same way other people do. If he's missing out. Considers perhaps his friends are right to revel in such mindless frivolities.

He doesn't debate his choices often, but as he gets comfortable in this new place, he can't help it. Thinks word must have gotten out about their planned attendance, 'cause he notices far more eyes on them than normal. Far more women vying for their attention. Men, too. Whether it be sex or status, their intrigue is always fuelled by something.

The rest of the boys revel in it.

Yoongi doesn't care for it - but there's a reputation to uphold. A brand image that being spotted in clubs and getting up to no good only helps. Seals them as the real deal. Gets them out of the bracket of 'posers' or manufactured, not that it really fuckin' matters.

There are two girls to each of them. Supply and demand. There aren't enough of The Scouts to go around, but people will share. Will take all they can get. Sharp eyeliner, pretty hair, the girls all have their wits about them, and it's potentially the worst part of it all - they're making the conscious, informed choice to lower themselves to a standard well beneath their worth.

The club stinks of sticky liquor and smoke, but beneath the veil they're all wearing the same perfume. Whatever's currently being marketed as 'irresistible' to men. Was vanilla a few years ago. Yoongi is certain it's something muskier now, but isn't sure what. Makes no difference to him.

There's only one perfume he knows he really likes, and has trained himself to despise it by association.

It's a shame that he hasn't trained himself to stop looking in your direction whenever he thinks of you. Is part of the reason he doesn't like drinking around you. Makes such stupid mistakes. His malevolent mask fails to hide him. The facade slips.

Tongue resting in the corner of his mouth, he doesn't realise he's staring. Eyes dark as they watch you with Jimin, Yoongi wonders if you've always had that tattoo just above your elbow. It's small, and dainty. Hard to make out from where he is, but when your arms are in the air, he's fixated on it. Thinks it must be new.

But then your arms drop to rest on Jimin's shoulders, and he's reminded of what you look like when you're all hot and bothered. Reminded of that night. The one that never was. Haunted by the rivulet of sweat that had trickled down your skin in a sauna that neither of you had any business being inside; just you and him in a silent descent into sin, and the smirk on your lips as his eyes had followed the droplet down your body.

His attention is yanked from you when an ice cube lands in his lap. Glacing across to the direction it came from as he pushes it to the floor, Yoongi scowls at Jungkook. "The fuck was that for?"

"Remember the rules," Jungkook smirks. "Look, but don't touch."

"Wasn't fuckin' looking," Yoongi sneers, completely ignorant of the women vying for his attention. "Was just thinking Jimin needs to to sober up. Man's a state. And unlike you, I wouldn't touch her if humanity depended on it."

"I'm a man of the people," Jungkook teases. "If repopulating the earth was my duty, I'd do it. Can't believe you wouldn't."

"She's got where she is today through sheer nepotism and audacity alone," Yoongi counters. "Doesn't have the kinda genes you'd wanna repopulate the earth with."

"Foul," Taehyung laughs. He's the only one of the boys without women hanging off him. Is stern and authoritative in his rejection of their advances; not yet married but wears a ring around his finger to let them know he's deadly serious. Landed himself in hot water a few months back after photos of him talking to a girl outside a bar - no matter how innocently - circulated online. A bad angle and misrepresentation of events had almost decimated the one thing he cares about more than the band: his relationship. Refuses to ever let it happen again. "Absolutely foul, Yoongi. You know you don't mean that."

"He just needs to get laid," Jungkook chimes in. "Has been celibate for so long he's forgotten how good sex is. Used to be a time he'd fuck anything willing with a pulse-"

It's not untrue. He was reckless in his youth - but aren't we all?

"Yeah, and then I grew up, Kook," Yoongi says with little to no emotion, getting to his feet. Taps his pocket to check for his phone, and then taps the other for his wallet. All there. "Should try it."

When Yoongi looks back up to the crowd, you're gone. He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Is almost mentally berating you, as if you've done something wrong - but you haven't, and he damn well knows it.

Perhaps that's the most frustrating part of it all: everything falls back on him. The awkwardness. The cold shoulders. The night that never was. If he would have just made more sensible choices back then, things could be easier now.

It's not that things are hard, as such - just that they aren't how they used to be. Rose-tinted glasses, and all that.

Over by the bar, there's a haze around you: clouded judgement, misted intentions.

The smallest things put a smile on your face, thanks to the alcohol in your veins. Could be the song that's already been played three times coming on yet again. Could be witnessing some random guy get pied by every single girl he approaches. Could be the way your vodka orange takes like juice. Anything and everything feels light. Airy. Breezy.

"What's so funny?" Some guy asks, leaning in a little closer to you - and just like that, your mood is soured. You're not here to make friends, but rather spend time with your pre-existing ones, and judging by the look on his face, he's hoping for a little more than friendship.

"Oh, nothing," you smile politely, crossing your arms over your chest as you angle your body away from his. Hope that he'll get the message.

He does. Just doesn't like it very much.

"No need to be a bitch," he sneers under his breath just loud enough for you to hear.

Normally, you'd leave it. Let him have his little tantrum. Be a big baby.

But you were in such a good mood, and you're annoyed that he's ruined it.

Wanna ruin his, too.

Snapping back to face him, you're about to launch into a tirade, but you come face-to-face with a chest that looks far too good in a simple T-shirt and find yourself faltering, instead.

Yoongi looks down at you, eyes dark, scowl ever-present. Says nothing. Just nods. You think he's asking if you're okay - so you nod back. Won't get into a debate over the fact you were perfectly fine, and have no issue asserting your boundaries with strangers.

Shoulders broad, the guy who had been bothering you is entirely eclipsed by Yoongi.

Glancing across to the bar staff, Yoongi nods. "Hibiki." Glances down at you. Checks the colour of your glass. It's obscured by the bar lights, but he knows it isn't dark enough to be coke, and remembers your order from before things got complicated. Figures some things haven't changed. Looks back towards the server. "Vodka Orange." Passes over his card. Says nothing to you. Just keeps his eyes on yours.

There's a subtle blush dusting his cheeks. The heat, you think. It's unnoticeable for the most part, but sometimes the lights hit him just right, and you're reminded of how warm he can be. How inviting.

He's always been impressive. Taller in sheer presence than he is in stature. Even back in high school, his nature was domineering. Respected. Lips gently parted, you're unable to move. Suddenly, nothing is funny anymore. It's heavy. Thick. Suffocating. You're deaf to the bass of the music that thumps through your body. Ignorant of the people moving around you.

But then Yoongi's being offered his card back, and Jimin bounds on into you like a lost puppy finally finding its owner.

"For me?!" Jimin exclaims as the drinks are slid across the bar, passing the vodka orange to you and picking up Yoongi's whisky for himself.

Shaking yourself from the shackles of Yoongi's stare, you look down. Realign your mind. Glance back over and nod a silent thank you - but then you turn and leave the drink by the bar. Head for the bathrooms. Refuse to look back, so utterly perplexed by what on earth just happened.

In a frank, factual recount of the events, Yoongi just stood beside you and ordered a drink.

In your hysterical, deluded mind, Yoongi just stood beside you and opened the skies; let a flood of water torrent down. Drowned everyone in the process save for you - except you're the one gasping now as you stare yourself out in the bathroom mirror.

Phone still on don't disturb, you pull it from your pocket and check just in case he's thinking of you.

Not Yoongi, no. You push him out of your mind. Think of your Damocles boy. He's the one you wished had joined you at the bar. The one you've been yearning for all night.

And sure enough, he has been thinking of you, too.

D4m0cl3s: there are some weirdos out and about tonight, clem keep yourself safe for me, okay?

It's strange, how guilt needlessly creeps in so silently that you don't even realise it's there until an invisible hand is over your mouth. You're suffocating again, or so it would seem. Drowning, maybe. Perhaps Yoongi wasn't saving you at all; he was dragging you down instead.

You wish you were at home. Wish you weren't so drunk. Wish you could think straight. Wish your balance was a little better - but it's not, and as you try and think of a response that goes beyond 'i miss you' or a 'you should be here', you stumble a little. Lose your footing. Grab onto the sink to stop yourself from falling over entirely, only to send your phone crashing to the floor.

"Fuck," you curse, scrambling down to get it, only to be greeted with a fracture splintering right over the top of your front camera. Pulling up the app, it's very quickly clear that the camera absolutely ruined - but for the most part, your screen is okay. "Fuck."

You think it's a sign: go home.

Even if you're drunk, and you're in the business to make some bad decisions, you know that your Damocles boy is right. There are some weirdos about tonight, and as fucked up as it all seems, 'safe' feels a lot like a message thread with a man you've never met.

Instead of replying to him, you open up your thread with Jimin. Let him know you're going home. Make your way up the stairs and out of the bar without looking back. It's rare for you to cry when you drink, but it kind of feels like you will now, and for no good reason. Just had a little too much, that's all.

The light around fades from the invasive red of the club into the murky blue hues of the streets.

And yet, there's a lovely little red flag waiting by the top of the stairs, unaware of your decision to head home, too.

"You leaving already?" You chirp in surprise upon realising who it is.

The sound of your voice, and the fact it's addressing him, seems to take Yoongi by surprise when he turns to face you.

"I, uh," he pauses. Looks down. Seems to be a little flustered. You wonder what's going inside that head of his, but when his eyes meet yours again, you decide you're better off not knowing. "Can't be home too late. I'm sorta seeing someone. Gotta get back for them."

"Oh," you say quietly.

I'm seeing someone.

"Yeah."

It's not like it matters, it's just that you never expected to hear him say those words. He's married to his music. Always has been. Spends his nights in the studio, not sleeping next to someone else.

Or perhaps he doesn't anymore. Just goes to show how little you know of his life these days.

"That's nice," you chirp, swallowing down your surprise. "Yeah. That's really nice, actually. I'm pleased for you."

In a way, it makes sense. Perhaps his strangeness lately has been less to do with you and more to do with himself and the fact he genuinely doesn't care about the past anymore. Thoughts of the night that never was are genuinely reserved for your brain, and your brain alone. Have no place in his. His warning about Jungkook was due to lessons learned by him.

"And you?" He asks, noticing the slight discomfort in your tone. He wouldn't normally entertain such frivolous conversations with you, but he's only human. Alcohol still gets him a little loose-lipped, too. "What's new in your love life?"

You laugh, now. Good fuckin' question. Genuinely don't know how to describe your Damocles boy, or if you even want to.

"Nothing new."

"No?"

"No," you smile in such a way that Yoongi knows you're not telling the whole truth - but who is he to pry?

"Well," he says, then coughs to clear his throat. Look out to the street ahead of you both. It's full of drunk revellers, and you're certain at least half of them will have The Scouts in their playlists. Yoongi's position in the band means he's never front and centre, so no one notices him like this. If they do, they're being incredibly discreet about it. "I'm sure you'll meet someone soon."

"Maybe," you shrug, knocking your shoulder against his arm. "Be easier if you didn't stand in front of every guy who shows an interest in me."

"It was one guy," he laughs, knowing not to take you too seriously. "And you know he was a creep. Was just standing in for your brother."

"Yeah," you nod, not caring to counter him, or to remind him how fucked up it is to refer to himself like that. Folding your arms over your chest, you're regretting the lack of a coat. Had left it back at pre-drinks, because a little bit of liquor and you suddenly think you're a child of the sun. "You're right. Thanks for that."

"No worries," Yoongi shrugs. Is about to offer you his jacket, when a taxi rolls up. "This yours?"

"Yeah," you nod, recognising the number plate from the taxi you'd ordered via an app when you'd been in the bathroom. "Want a lift?"

He shakes his head. "Gotta head to the studio first."

"Yoongi, you're drunk," you laugh. "What did I tell you about all work?"

"Yeah, yeah, dull boy," he laughs too - but it's not you he's thinking of as he recites it. It's the girl he's heading home for that enters his mind, and how she'd said something similar. Shaking his head, he's confused at how easily thoughts of her intertwine with how easy it can be to joke with you. Puts it down to the alcohol. His head's a mess. "Inspiration doesn't wait. Let Jimin or someone know when you're home."

"Get in the cab," you insist at his need to be difficult. "I'll route it past the studio. Inspiration doesn't wait," you imitate a little childishly, which does get him smiling. "Better to get to it quickly, no?"

He looks around. Looks a little uncomfortable. You don't take it personally. He looks like this a lot of the time around you. Even before it all got weird.

Eventually, he sighs. Relents.

"Route it to yours," he says. "I'll carry on to the studio."

"Studio is closer," you tell him, knocking your head to the side, pulling open the door. "C'mon. The driver will leave if you don't hurry up."

"And Jin'll kill me if you get stolen," he reminds you, as if that would be likely to happen. Even if the taxi driver was a creep, there are cameras everywhere in places like this. You're as safe as can be. "You first. Non-negotiable."

"You're a tough bargainer," you hum with narrowed eyes. He is at least here, and not walking in the cold. Would have to cross the river to get to the studio, and the thought of any of them drunkenly walking along it alone scares you. "Fine. But you better not get stolen, either. Twitter would have a meltdown- no, Twitter would kill me if you get stolen."

"Shut up," he laughs. Knows The Scouts have a fanbase that could scare even political leaders into submission, if they really wanted to. "They don't even know who you are."

But Yoongi is forgetting who your brother is. Forgetting that there's a good reason why Jungkook has 'look but don't touch' etched into his brain. Forgetting that there are Twitter accounts dedicated to posting updates from your socials, just for a glimpse of The Scouts.

And as you let silence simmer into the taxi, not caring to keep up a conversation, you're none the wiser that those exact fan accounts are currently screaming into the void.

The Yoongi-dedicated update accounts, too.

In fact, the entire app is on fire - and it's not gonna be an easy one to put out.

03:31AM

D4m0cl3s: you still out, clem?

Cl3m3ntin3: why? miss me?

D4m0cl3s: never

Cl3m3ntin3: hmmm well in that case, yes i am x

D4m0cl3s: i think you're lying you answered far too quickly

Cl3m3ntin3: i think you should just admit that you miss me and u just caught me at a good time :/

D4m0cl3s: but i don't? and ur nose must be soooooo big pinocchio

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah you do you've missed me sooooo much tonight, havent you? bet you've been all mopey just thinking about me aaaaaaall night me & my proportionally sized nose x

D4m0cl3s: dunno what you mean

Cl3m3ntin3: well, are you home?

D4m0cl3s: almost

Cl3m3ntin3: not even home yet and already texting me... but you don't miss me? you're lucky you've got such a nice cock i wouldn't let your lies slide so easily if you didn't

D4m0cl3s: so you're only with me for my cock?

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm not with you

D4m0cl3s: ouch noted

Cl3m3ntin3: you're the one who refuses to have me, remember?

D4m0cl3s: you know it's not like that, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: i know, babe i'm just fucking with you figuratively (sadly) i'm with friends though - i'll let you know when i'm alone, alright?

D4m0cl3s: don't worry about me enjoy your night trouble message me in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: if this is a ploy to make me message you first, it wont work

D4m0cl3s: finei 'll message you

Cl3m3ntin3: keen

D4m0cl3s: you love it

Cl3m3ntin3: suuuure i do

D4m0cl3s: stay safe, babe drink water before bed

Cl3m3ntin3: you wanna drink some clementine juice before bed?

D4m0cl3s: i dont think they make clementine juice and no you know the rules sleep off the alcohol first then send me pictures of that gorgeous cunt in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: and what will i get in return?

D4m0cl3s: the video i've just taken of myself stroking my big hard cock just for you

Cl3m3ntin3: fuck send it now? pls x

D4m0cl3s: keen and no x

Cl3m3ntin3: c'monnnn :(

D4m0cl3s: in the morning, baby just know that i'm a little drunk but so fuckin' hard

Cl3m3ntin3: no whiskey dick? i'm impressed

D4m0cl3s: i'm thinking about you nothing will ever stop me from getting hard when im thinking about you

Cl3m3ntin3: watcha thinkin about? gimmie specifics x i wanna touch myself

D4m0cl3s: that pretty cunt of yours how fuckin' wet you get god i wanna fuck you nice and slow NO FUCK STOP TEMPTING ME YOU SIREN

Cl3m3ntin3: 🙁

D4m0cl3s: in the morning

Cl3m3ntin3: you promise?

D4m0cl3s: i promise, baby go spend time with your friends message me if you need anything

Cl3m3ntin3: your dick?

D4m0cl3s: anything other than that you'll get it in the morning, clemmie promise x

D4m0cl3s is offline

GENIUS LAB Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"All good?" Yoongi hums as the door to his studio clicks shut. 

He'd left the door on the latch so you could get back in when you went to the bathroom. Could have just given you the code, but he didn't want you to think he'd be making a habit of this. It's a limited-time offer. Not one that can be redeemed whenever you like. It's now, and now only.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, pulling on the back of the spare desk chair Yoongi had rolled up beside his. You don't look at him, just at the screens as you tell a little white lie. "Just let Jimin know I was okay."

Yoongi grunts some sort of agreement, but doesn't vocalise a response as such.

It's not like a complete subversion of the truth. A text has been sent to your group chat. The one with just Jungkook and Jimin. No one else needs to know your business, as far as you're concerned.

It's just that a few more texts have been sent to your Damocles boy—but that's none of Yoongi's business. You're sure he wouldn't care to know.

You're also sure he's regretting the request for help bestowed upon you on the ride back. He'd mentioned the song he was going to work on, and you'd offered to lend an ear again. 

It's not an unheard-of thing. There are a couple of tracks on the last album that have been tweaked as a result of your ear, including their biggest single. You're not listed in the credits, but you never asked to be. Was just helping out a friend—even if said friend then decided to become an asshole when they started making a name for themselves.

You're tipsy, and so is Yoongi. It's easier to forget how fraught things have become when you're like this. You wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't had a few too many drinks. 

You also probably wouldn't be trending all over twitter, but you're still blissfully unaware of this.

"Same track as before, right?" You ask, kicking your shoes off to get a little more comfortable on the chair.

Again, words fail Yoongi. You're forced to decipher his small noises, 'cause it's all he tends to offer you. It's not like it's a uniquely you issue—the boys have learned to speak in Yoongi-code, too. 

"Okay, play it from the start," you tell him. "Show me what we're working with."

There's a cautious nature to the way Yoongi works. So preoccupied with creating perfection, he hates letting people hear his work before it's reached his self-imposed arbitrary standards. There's only a very small circle who gets the privilege of seeing how his brain works.

Despite his ever-present disdain for you, it seems like you're one of the lucky few. He'll never acknowledge this. Never admit that he favours your opinions, because he genuinely doesn't think he does.

You're frank with him. Will tell him how it is. Don't sugarcoat it. Aren't seeking his approval, so don't care to lick his ass just to keep him happy—not that he ever wants you to lick his ass. Could think of nothing worse. Not because he isn't into it, but because the thought of being with you repulses him in a way he can't quite describe. Even thinking about it makes him shudder.

But maybe that's the issue. Maybe the shudder is indicative of something else entirely.

"Yoongi?" You ask, drawing him from his thoughts. The song has finished, but he doesn't even really recall listening to it at all.

"Hm?" He hums. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"The lyrics," you say. "What's the song about? 'Cause at the moment, musically, it sounds like a heartbreak song and love song all at the same time, and I think that's what's confusing about it. It can't decide what it wants to be."

Yoongi frowns.

"It's not really either," he supposes.

In the dim lighting of his studio, Yoongi is at his very best. Focused, he's shrewd in his astute calculations. Can put together different sounds and construct melodies you wouldn't even be able to dream of. For all of his issues, there is one undeniable truth: the man is a musical genius.

It's why this is all so perplexing to him. He hates not knowing how to make things right. This is his job. It's what he excels at—and yet he's failing.

"Well, what's it about?" You softly ask, turning to look at him. "Do you have the lyrics?"

Guard clearly up, the way Yoongi looks at you is puzzling. Whatever he's written isn't something that he wants to share.

"What?" you laugh, trying to not make a big deal of things. You know how quickly he closes up, and can already sense it happening. "You told me you're seeing someone, remember? God forbid you accidentally expose the fact you're a human being with real feelings."

You half think he might smile.

He doesn't.

Instead, he reaches across his desk for a small black notebook. A little weathered, it's clearly seen a lot of thoughts in the past. The leather of the cover is tarnished, and there's a faded sticker from some instrument brand wrapping around the spine.

"Just don't ask any fuckin' questions," he grumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you gladly accept the book. Tuck your thumb between the pages where a natural divide occurs. It's testament to how long Yoongi has spent agonising over the same words.

His handwriting never changes much. Always messy. Always hard to decipher.

Or at least, it's hard for other people. You've never found it to be too taxing.

What's curious this time are the little doodles on the page. Blossoms and small fruits.

"Cherries?" You ask, chirping with a little curiosity. It's hard to work out exactly what they are, but cherries seem like the most likely thing.

Yoongi just grunts.

Getting anything from him is like getting blood from a stone.

"How the fuck do you have a functioning relationship?" You mutter, casting your eyes back down to his words. The way he refuses to converse with you is infuriating.

"I said no questions," he curtly reminds you.

The way you roll your eyes this time is far less kind. Tossing the book back down on the desk, you reach for your shoes and get to your feet without a word.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," you tell him, as your hand reaches for the door handle. "You asked me for help, Yoongi—but I can't do jack shit if you won't let me."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for critique on my relationship, did I?" He snaps back. Feels his skin get all hot. Clammy. Relationship. That's not how he'd define what he's got going on. He doesn't know why he did call it that. Doesn't know why he didn't just ignore you, when you're clearly trying to wind him up.

"You're impossible," you tell him, patience thin. The alcohol made it easier to be friendly with him, but it also makes it easier to fight, too.

"And you're unbearable!"

"Me?!" You say with such offense it almost surprises Yoongi. Turning around to fully face him, you let go of the the door handle. Let it whisper shut, the lock softly clicking into place. You're willingly trapped in the confines of his studio. Could just leave. Instead, you choose to fight. "Oh, you have some fucking nerve—"

"I thought you were going?" He cuts you off, responding to your change in position by getting to his feet too. He's not one for confrontation, but there's something about you that just gets under his skin. Makes him wanna fight right back. "So why don't you just fuckin' go?"

"I am," you assure him. You should have known that this would end in disaster. "But maybe if you channelled some of this pent-up frustration into your music, maybe you'd actually get somewhere."

"I don't need you telling me how to do my job," he sneers. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm doing perfectly fine without your unsolicited advice."

Unbelievable. Was he not the one who asked for your help? Repeatedly?

"Holy shit," you scornfully laugh. "Listen to yourself, you deluded prick! You asked—"

"Yeah, well if you didn't insist on sticking your big fuckin' Pinnochio nose into everything—"

"My big nose?! Oh, you are such an asshole."

"You're no fuckin' daisy, either," he snaps. Doesn't even really know why he's being so rude. Just knows he doesn't want to back down. Doesn't wanna let you win. "Just do us all a favour and quit before the tour. No one wants you there."

It's never been a secret that Yoongi harbours contempt for the way in which you got your jobs, but you know damn well that you've proven your worth. If it was anyone else saying these words, you'd probably be offended.

Instead, you just shake your head. Laugh. Walk a little closer just to piss him off. Encroach upon his personal space.

"Tell me, Yoongi," you say quietly, picking off a little dust from his shirt just to see how he reacts. To your surprise, he lets you. Just looks down at you. Watches to see what you'll do next. Eyes flicking up to his, the air between you is frightfully thin. "If I quit, how would you explain it to Jin? Hmm? Would you tell him the way you speak to me?"

"I've got nothing to hide," Yoongi replies just as quietly. There's an intimacy to be found somewhere hidden between your mutual disdain and heated anger. The kind of coldness that can only come from someone you once knew to be warm. "He knows you're a piece of work."

This does make you laugh. "Nothing to hide, huh?"

"Nothing," he says. His jaw is tense, and his eyes are even more so. "Nothing happened that night."

"Yoongi, I didn't even mention that night," you remind him with a smirk, pleased at your ability to get under his skin. 

That night has lingered with you both: the scent of damp cedar wood and the sensation of sweltering heat against your clammy skin. It's not the kind of thing you forget, even if you never speak of it. Not with Jimin, not with Jungkook, and especially not with Yoongi.

"Just get out of my studio," he growls, eyes centred on yours. He's unwavering in the way that he stares you out; unashamed and uncompromising.

"Gladly," you say as you pull away from him.

You're not gonna beg him to be cordial with you. This atmosphere is a product of his own creation, and as miserable as it is, he's gonna have to be the one to fix it. Both as stubborn as one another, you know damn well it's gonna stay like for a while.

The door slams shut. No amount of soundproofing can obscure the way Yoongi curses into the void left by you.

But right on time, as you reach the door that leads out onto the street, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It's a little longer than the vibration of your other apps, so you know exactly what it is. Who it is. Solace is found in the form of notifications from him. Satisfaction, too.

D4m0cl3s: fuck it i need you, now, clem

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

end of part two

[sanjisboyfie]

suguru's cherished mornings

-> geto suguru x male reader -> really short sorry idk i just had to publically show how much i love him.

-> still jjk universe but the one where this babe doesnt become anakin skywalker and defect away from everyone <3333 because i like to imagine this alternate universe a LOT

his black hair sprawled over the sheets, unfortunately getting painfully pulled by you when you're still sleeping. he winces as he feels it being pressuredly pushed down onto the mattress, giving a slight tug to his sensitive scalp and affectively waking him up.

he doesn't have the heart to even be remotely annoyed or angry with you. not when you look so peaceful sleeping. not when you're so effortlessly handsome it feels almost like his heart physically stops beating at your effortless charm.

he is just that in love with you.

the way you could make doing nothing but sleeping look like art was something special only to his eye, because he was the only one that had his eye on you. or, at least, that's what he tells himself to sleep better at night (he would very much rather not think about the probably high number of individuals that also find you attractive, it'll just put him in a sour mood).

he won't wake you up. instead, he props his head up onto his palm and continues gazing at you lovingly. sure, it can be a little bit creepy, but...okay, it is just creepy, but he just loves you so much. he might pick up the book that's resting on his bedside. he'll sit against the headboard as he reads, smiling softly when you so naturally shift your body to now be hugging his legs and resting on his lap.

one hand will hold the book up for him to read whilst the other traces mindless shapes on your back.

suguru loves touching you, whether it be in the smallest grazes of his fingers or those more heated moments, he loves, loves, loves touching you. it makes him happy - genuinly.

it's his own way of grounding himself, reminding himself that you're really there with him, next to him.

his large hands will run up and down your back until you eventually wake up. the book he's reading returns back to the bedside and he immediately focuses all of his attention on you.

"g'mornin', baby," he'll gently say, shuffling to hold you in his arms and kiss the top of your head, "did you sleep well?"

a tired hum is all he gets in response, but you can still feel him smiling against your skin. you return the question, your voice gravely as you speak.

then he's pressing his face into the crevice between your neck and shoulder, humming in delight as he gets to really take you in, through all of his senses.

he has you in his arms, obviously he can see you, and the last is that he is drowning in your natural scent.

he's obsessed, at this point.

"slept perfectly, as always," when i'm beside you - that's the last part of the sentence that suguru doesn't voice, for some reason.

his arms tighten around your waist. and now you're the one carding your fingers through his hair, to sooth him and relax that tight grip on your body. he doesn't know it, but it's practically suffocating.

gently, as you predicted, his hold does loosen up and allows you to sit in his lap now without him cutting off your circulation.

"should we stay in for a little while longer, babe? are you still tired?" he asks you, but doesn't get a response. all he feels is your body comfortiably slotting in with his and the arms you had around his neck loosely falling into your lap.

"silly boy," he chuckles, finding your habits endearing and amusing. you woke up, just to get comfortable in his lap and then fall back asleep. "i love you,"

there's a low hum that comes from your chest and he takes that answer with glee. he knows you would have said it back if you had the energy or that keen awareness.

_

when the two of you finally do have the energy to get out of bed, the morning finally starts in the bathroom. you're brushing your teeth standing next to each other, suguru sometimes childishly making funny faces at you in the mirror.

you almost choked on the toothpaste in your mouth when he fulls a particularly funny face. some other mornings you're sitting on the bathroom counter with suguru comfortably standing in between your open legs. his one hand will rest on one side of your lap with the other moving the toothbrush in his mouth. that hand near your lap will sometimes go underneath your shirt and start playing with the flesh of your hips.

it sometimes earns him a warning look, which he rolls his eyes at, but eventually does pull away to please you. the other times, though, when you let his fingers dance on your skin - those times he loves.

sometime in your morning routine, one of you will get a phone call from someone in jujutsu society to call you for a mission. usually, it's you since you're not a special grade like suguru. that means you're more high in demand for lesser grade curses.

he doesn't like that, though, so he often tags along with you wherever you have to go. doesn't like being away from you for too long. it makes him angsty. makes him worried.

he wants to be there for you if anything happens. or else he wouldn't be able to live peacefully.

but on the rare mornings, you don't get beckoned for work, the two of you are lounging in your small living room. two steaming cups of coffee are on the table as suguru watches the television with you scrolling on your phone.

your legs will most likely be thrown over his lap, a subtle way of letting him touch you. his hands will always find the skin of your ankle and calf to caress, going up and down your leg as if he was trying to lull you to sleep again.

he may or may not actually be trying to do that too, he wants you to stay here with him and only him for a while longer. and when you're sleeping, you're doing just that. it's his own little secret, though, as he'd never confess these underhanded methods he uses to monopolize your time and attention.

and its usually at times like that: the light pouring in through the opened window, the cups of steaming coffee in front of you two, that skin to skin contact, when suguru feels the most thankful for having you.

you make the mundane mornings something worth living through. he doesn't have to struggle and find reason to get out of bed, not when he has you there to hold his hand through the motions of it. you make his life exciting and he loves you dearly for all that you unknowingly do for him.

"hm, love you, [name]," he'll say out of nowhere.

it makes your head lift up from the couch cushion and away from your phone screen. he catches your e/c eyes with his own, smiling softly at your adorable face.

"love you too, suguru, always," you easily respond, sitting up to kiss his cheek and leaving a lingering scent of coffee on his skin.

but he doesn't wipe it away, he never would.

you collpase back onto the couch cushion into your comfortable position and suguru can't help but note how homey you look.

he loves when he gets to spend his mornings with you because those are the best parts of his day.

the mundane turned special in its own way, all thanks to you and the love he has for you in his heart.

[baby-stoner-butch]

Road Trip

Been thinking lately about long road trips, the kind where you're driving through the middle of nowhere for hours and hours and hours and how the only people passing through along with you are other road trippers or long haul semi trucks. Thinking about all that time alone in the car, all the run down gas stations and rest areas you end up stopping at while driving through nowhere that don't feel real. Thinking about what me and my Passenger Princess could do to pass the time driving through farmland with shitty radio stations and no cellphone service

We'd leave early, like 4 AM early. I'd pack up the car, luggage in the trunk, backpacks in the back seat, and a cooler on the floor within arms reach while we're driving. I'd let my baby sleep as long as she could before I wake her up and tell her it's time to go. As we pull out of the driveway, she falls right back asleep. I'll still get her a refresher when I make my first coffee stop, it'll be waiting for her in the cooler when she wakes up. She won't know that I added a couple shots to the drink before I put it away

Maybe she'd wake up again around 9am or so, whenever I have to make my first gas stop. We'd pull into one of those big truck stops that's nice and clean and has lots of snacks and decent breakfast sandwiches and all that. The last nice big truck stop before the next rural stretch. I'd let my baby wake up and walk around and pick out something for breakfast and feel like she's starting her day before I let her know about the present I have for her in the cooler. Once the car is gassed up and my baby is settled into the passenger seat we'd hit the road again

About 20 minutes into this drive, she'd have eaten her breakfast and drank most of the refresher and she'd start to wonder why she feels kinda tired and spacey. "That's just how road trips are, love, I'm feeling kind of tired too. You just didn't sleep as well in the passenger seat. Why don't you lay the seat back and get comfy, we still have a long way to go,"

I'd let her drift off and feel her buzz for a while, let her think she's still just not completely awake. It's been a long time since she's been on a road trip like this, so I'm probably right that being in the car so long just makes you feel tired and weird. But as she lays there she's more and more aware that she feels disoriented and dizzy. She starts to believe she's carsick and asks me to pull over.

The only place to pull over is a weird little rest area off the highway. One of the ones that might have a vending machine and a clean bathroom, and a handful of picnic tables out in front. There's maybe a dozen cars and trucks parked around, but only one person I can see walking around in the parking lot. We'd sit at a table outside and I'd have my princess drink some water and tell me how she's feeling. She says it's like the world is moving faster than her, like she can't quite gather all her thoughts. I'd tell her that's what it felt like for me the first time I got carsick too. "That's all it is baby is carsickness, you're just dizzy because you fell asleep in the car and got all confused. But I heard that weed can help with car sickness, and I have some edibles in the glove box." She'd try and argue and say that doesn't sound right, but she also can't think very clearly anymore. It's easy to convince her that getting high would solve the problem. She takes an edible as we pull back out onto the highway

About an hour later the gummy kicks in and my baby complains that it's not doing anything to help her carsickness. She says it's hard to focus her eyes and that's making her dizzier and we need to pull over again. "We can't baby, we still have to make decent time. The more we pull over the longer you have to stay in the car." I convince her to hold out a little longer for me. There's a bandana in the glovebox she can use as a sleeping mask, and she ties it tight over her eyes for me so obediently. I reach over and rub gently up and down her thigh to help her calm down

While she snoozes I talk to her so softly. "You're doing so good for me baby, relaxing in the passenger seat. Feel how the car rocks you back and forth, listen to the white noise of the road. Such a good girl for me keeping me company in the passenger seat," Soon enough I can tell she's starting to fall back asleep

Slowly and quietly I take my hand from her thigh and reach into my door pocket where I hid her vibrator. She doesn't notice as I turn it on and connect it to my phone. She only lets out a small moan when I tuck my hand under her skirt, into her panties, and place the vibe right against her clit. She's so wet for me already, she must have been dreaming about something like this all morning. I'm not going to start playing with her yet though, it's a long car ride and I want to save some of the fun for later.

The tank is about halfway empty when she wakes up again and tells me she feels a little better now. If I didn't know any better I'd assume she actually did feel better, but she's still to high to notice the vibrator against her wet pussy. I tell her that it's been a while and she should probably take another edible so she stays feeling better. She takes one without question

It's around 1pm when we pull into a little middle of nowhere diner for some lunch. I walk around to open the car door for my baby and help her out of the car. She leans on me with enough weight that I know if I wasn't holding her up she'd be stumbling around at best. At least this way she can save face and I look like a gentleman.

At the gas station, she waits in the car while I fill the tank and go inside for road drinks. I get a 4 pack of spiked sodas for my baby and an energy drink for me. She's too high to read the label when I hand her her first. It's 2:30pm when we hit the road again.

While my baby sips her soda we chat. I ask her how she's feeling now that she ate and she says she feels good. She thinks the weed is helping. I ask her if she's going to be okay for another long stretch and she says yes. "Did you notice the way everyone was looking at us in the diner, baby? You were holding on to me so tight, I wonder what they were all thinking. I wonder if they could tell how high you are. I wonder if they could see the vibrator under your skirt."

She looks at me confused for a second before her eyes go wide in shock as I turn up the vibrator on her clit. She gasps and squirms in her seat, putting on a cute little show for me. She would have spilled her soda if the bottle wasn't so empty. She looks like she's about to reach down and turn off the vibrator. "Don't touch." She whines and moans but she does what she's told.

"Finish your drink baby," I turn the vibrator down to its lowest setting so she can focus on her task. When she finishes I reach back into the cooler and hand her another. "Finish this too." My baby's always been such a good listener when she's crossed

She drinks about half the bottle before she finally decided to read the label. "Babe did you know there's alcohol in this?" Her speech is slurred and slow, like she really has to fight to use her words. I tell her I don't know what she's talking about. She still finishes the bottle like a good girl

The next hour on the road I have one hand on the wheel and the other playing with her vibrator. Every time she gets close to cumming I turn it back down on the lowest setting and tell her to sip her drink. She's not allowed to cum until she finishes all 4 bottles. She finishes her last one a mile before the next rest stop

I pull off the highway and park the car as far away from the door as I can, just so I can watch her stumble through the parking lot a bit longer. Before I help her out of the car, I pop another gummy between her lips. It's for the best since she finished all her soda

There's one other car in the parking lot, and a semi truck parked along the on ramp. Neither driver is in their vehicle.

I help my baby out of the car, but I tell her I forgot my phone in the car and make her walk by herself this time. She sways slightly when I let her go and takes slow steps towards the door. She almost trips stepping up to the sidewalk and catches herself on a light post. She bends over to steady herself and I can see her soaking wet panties peak out from under her short little skirt. I'm so glad she didn't question the outfit I laid out for her this morning

I take my time catching up to her, but when I do I grab her arm to steady her and walk her inside with me. I can feel the stares from the other travelers when I pull open the door and push my baby through. I don't think she's aware enough to realize anyone saw her. She's so adorable when she can't walk straight!

I walk her into the bathroom with me, one hand on the small of her back and the other holding open the door. As soon as we're inside I turn the deadbolt. I force my lips onto hers, standing on my tiptoes just a bit, and use my bodyweight to pin her to the wall. One hand caresses her jaw so carefully and the other finds it way under her skirt. She's soaked though her panties and I can feel her twitch as I tease my fingers along her slit. I bring my lips close to her ear and whisper "Stay still baby"

Pull away from her face I sink to my knees in front of her, pulling her panties down with me. She whimpers when I pull the vibrator away from her clit and pocket it. I guide her carefully to step out of them, making sure she's still standing before I reach up and shove them inside her drooling little mouth. "Don't drop those sweetheart"

I love when she gets so desperate and needy, I know she needs to cum so bad and she's been so patient while I've had my fun with her. Her thighs are so wet from her leaky cunt, I run my tongue slowly up her leg to tease her, and stop just before I reach her cunt to leave her some pretty bite marks. She's going to bruise so beautifully

She grabs a fist full of my hair to steady herself. I put one leg over my shoulder and hold her to my face by her hips. I blow a slow cool breath over her pussy and feel her shift more of her weight onto me. It sounds like she's trying to beg through her panties. "Be good for me baby, don't drop your panties"

Finally I give her what she wants, I pull her hips forward and push my tongue so deep inside her, letting her drip down my chin. She whines so loud for me as I tease her clit with my thumb, but my good girl doesn't let her panties fall from her mouth. Her muffled "please please" gets louder and louder as I taste her wet cunt

I grip her thigh with my free hand and press her harder against the wall. She's so close to cumming that she's dripping down my chin just the way I like. I won't stop to give her permission to cum, but I'll force her to cum anyway. She screams so loud around her panties in her mouth and tightens her grip on my hair as I thrust my tongue in and out of her. I lift her just an inch off the ground as she clenches so tight around me, I don't slow down while she pulls my face closer and she cums

I feel her ride her orgasm as I gently bring her back down to the ground. Her legs are shaking as she's forced to stand on her own once again. I keep one hand on her waist as I stand to meet her unfocused gaze. "Open" I command as I remove her panties from her mouth. Those go in my pocket too. I lean my weight against her into the wall and I whisper in her ear "That's my good girl" with a gentle nip at her earlobe. All she can do is whimper in response

As we leave the bathroom she hangs off me for support and keeps her eyes to the ground. I notice only one person remains in the rest stop, presumably the truck driver. They must have heard everything. "Lets go my love," I whisper to my baby, "we still have a long drive ahead of us"

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Okay, I've Read Worm: A Retrospective Part 1: How The Fuck Did I Get Here?

I don't know exactly what I'm going to be doing with all these posts, but at a minimum, we will be having the following, not necessarily in this order:

A discussion of some of the parts of Worm I liked most. Some genuine and well-earned praise for Wildbow.

An analysis of Amy Dallon as she exists in Worm, though more for unpacking my own thoughts in one place rather than some deep literary stuff.

A discussion of things I was genuinely surprised by in the Text itself versus the stuff I picked up via fandom osmosis and fanfic. Expectation vs reality and stuff.

A discussion of just who the fuck the target audience of Worm actually probably maybe was, and what the fuck I just read.

And a detailed (for my own unpacking of thoughts than to convince anyone of anything) discussion of why I'm not going to read Ward. Nothing new there, but still, it'll be nice to put it all one one place.

But first, let's take a step back and answer one very important question: How in the bloody fuck did I end up here? How the fuck did reading Worm even happen? Because as I've said before, superhero media isn't my thing, I'm definitely not the target audience for Worm, and while I enjoyed it, only liking it 60% is a barely passing grade, as it were.

So how the blue hell did I end up here?

I don't know exactly when I first became aware of Worm. What I do know is that I was loosely aware of it by 2019, because I was active on SpaceBattles, and of course, Worm is all over there. I'd see the name, and I knew it referred to a work of fiction, but that's about all I knew. It might have been before 2019 that I first heard the name, it might not have. I say by 2019, because I know that sometime in 2019, I was in a discord server associated with one of the many spinoff sites to Spacebattles (I believe it was Frozen in Carbonite, which was honestly a pretty noxious website but I didn't know that going in) and I made a post using this meme:

And I got an answer that was something to the effect of 'It's an edgy villain protagonist superhero story'. And so I shrugged, and I moved on. Not my speed. Superheroes aren't my thing, not really, not in of themselves. I first got into AoS watching it with my then GF back in... 2015? And then I got into shipping Skyeward in it. Then I watched Arrow because some of the people I followed from Skyeward were into it and again, pretty much stayed for the shipping and certain characters. Flash and Legends of Tomorrow and Supergirl were entered into as branching off from Arrow.

And yes I've watched a good chunk of the MCU, but mostly because why not watch a movie and there's a handful of characters I liked. But I've never read a single superhero comic book, as far as I can recall, and I've never really been super into any superhero cartoons, just watched them if they happened to be on Cartoon Network when I was a kid.

At some point between then and this year, I found a Worm CYOA on r/nsfwcyoa, and despite never having read it, gave it a look, played around with it, and picked up random errant facts about the story and characters therein. I would revisit this CYOA and similar ones as they got updates, and along the way got my first exposure to the whole 'fanon' problem of the Worm fandom, when one of the options in one of the CYOAs was to make certain popular fanon true for the version of Earth-Bet 'your character' appeared in for the CYOA. Things like making Woobie Amy true, or turning Vicky into the Collateral Damage Barbie she's cast as by some people, et cetera.

And then, at some point probably late last year or early this year, I think, I was on Questionable Questing (the pervert uncle of Spacebattles, as it were) and I saw a fic get posted that was Worm - so, prepared to ignore it - and then I saw it was also tagged with several of my kinks. And I've read smutfics that aren't for one of my fandoms if I really like the kinks and it's just a smutfic, so I gave it a show. How much do you need to know about the source canon for a smutfic, eh?

I don't remember much about that fic, or even which of my kinks in particular it had, but I would read a few other such stories here and there until sometime in... probably May or so, maybe late April, when I made an errant post on QQ in a thread discussing stories you considered but never actually read, that I had considered Worm (because by then I had, ish, after some of the various go-arounds with the CYOA and picking up bits of osmosis here and there) but that the whole thing sounded too bleak and grimdark and depressing.

This spawned a conversation about Worm, and if it was really grimdark (one person I think went so far as to say it wasn't even depressing or bleak, and oh to live in that person's world) and if it was really a deconstruction or a love letter to superhero media or a takedown of superhero media or w/e. And at some point, someone made a comment about Wildbow having disdain for his fans, or something like that.

And I was like 'I feel like there's a story there'. And yes there was. One of the things that came up were the so-called 'retcons' of Ward re: Amy (whether or not they are actually retcons is beyond the point of this post, please don't discuss it here). And here's the thing, my thought then was: I've been there.

I've been there when characters have been set on, or are seemingly being set up for, some kind of redemption arc, and then some new installment pulls the rug out from under the character in a way that feels very, very deliberately aimed at fans of the character. Grant Ward is the most notable case of this for me. 2015 and 2016 me had quite a few things to say about that. 2024 me lacks the energy or desire to go into detail.

It's not fun, either way. So I sympathized. And I figured that probably meant Amy Dallon would be my sort of character. But I didn't want to read Worm - it sounded depressing, it was 1.6 million words, Taylor didn't sound super appealing and I knew she was the main POV, and superheroes aren't my thing.

But it wouldn't leave my head. So I started poking around on places like r/parahumans (a den of bad takes and noxious fans if there ever was one) and r/WormFanfic and the Parahumans wiki and looked through a few threads on SB and started trawling the Amy Dallon tag here on Tumblr and developed some thoughts.

Amy Dallon, and the injustice of what happened to her in Ward had crawled inside my head and it wasn't going anywhere. I ranted to my friends about all the shit I'd learned and was like 'I HAVEN'T EVEN READ THIS WORK AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I WANT TO AND IT JUST WON'T LEAVE MY BRAIN!'. I remember seeing a post saying something about how someone who had read worm couldn't relate to people who hadn't and weren't constantly thinking about Amy and I reblogged it saying 'I haven't even read Worm and I'm constantly thinking about Amy' and I think the OP of the post reblogged my reblog and called me a whole new kind of person or something. I don't remember and don't care to go digging.

The things that held me back the most continued to be the sheer length of Worm, a fear that Taylor would be insufferable and the fact that it still sounded godforsakenly depressing. (2 out of 3 ain't bad, as Meatloaf Says). So eventually I decided to go poking around and read some fic to get the idea if I'd actually read it. I don't remember all the ones I read in this period, but they included: I, Panacea, Desperate Times Call For Desperate Pleasures, Queen of Blood and More Than Meets The Eye. It was around this time I also started getting multiple Worm Fic Ideas, which was... fun. Because you know, it's one thing to read fanfic without knowing the source canon, but I've always loathed in previous fandoms when people say they're writing a fic for a canon they've only read fic from (and was always an immediate X-out for me) and I have too much dignity self-respect as a writer to do that myself.

Now, fic ideas don't mean I have to write them. I have ASOIAF and TVD fic Ideas I'm never going to write, and my notebooks across the ages are littered with fic Ideas I had and then put aside and never wrote. Some still haunt my dreams like Edgar Allen Poe's Telltale Heart. But still.

Eventually, after someone made a comment to me to the effect of 'with all due respect, if you haven't read Worm, shut up about it' I decided to at least make an effort to read it. Spite was my original intent - I wanted to see if my opinion about Amy's storyline in Worm specifically would remain the same (and it broadly has) and if so, I would feel satisfied I'd been right.

(For the record, It did remain the same (pretty much, more on this in a future post) and I do feel satisfied that I was right.)

And so, on June 16th, half on a whim and half because I knew I'd have things to say and I wanted to section them off my main blog, I made this blog and began reading Gestation 1.1. I gave it even odds in my head I'd give up before I was more than a few arcs in.

Wasn't even tempted until Arcs 12 and 13. Then was tempted again in the absolute nadir of the work, 17-19. And then again during the Behemoth fight. Once I got past that, I was never temped.

So that's I got here. Existing adjacent to Worm for years, some osmosis, an ill-timed comment, some snarky responses and a character that burrows into my brain by hitting all of my buttons.

[reikunrei]

feeling incredibly averse to posting this but i'm just gonna drop my kofi link here in case anyone wants to help me get out of my increasingly shitty situation living with my parents

more info below ig

after having given my parents nearly $100k over the last four years, i'd love to be able to actually leave. my future job situation is still up in the air (i've submitted for about a dozen positions and the only one i've heard back from and interviewed for hasn't gotten back to me yet), and i haven't been able to build up any savings because, again, i was (and still am) helping my family afford rent and bills, and probably the taxes my parents are behind on, but if i think about that, i'll get too angry. no joke, i've given my family, at the bare minimum, 85% of my income over the last 4 years. the rest of it has gone toward medical stuff and, now, my car

at this point, with the combo of my mom refusing to lower her standards and my dad's seeming refusal to hunt for a new full time job, i don't see how they won't continue to bleed me dry. my dad even has a bad habit of taking money out of my old savings account that he's a joint owner on or whatever from when i got it set up when i was 16, even when i stopped actively putting money in it, so now any time it gets its automated $1 transfer from my checking account, he'll just take that $1 without consulting me. i'm not exaggerating, even if it has $1-2 in it, it'll be gone within a week

i've even put off starting on testosterone because of this. i wanted to start it like 3 years ago, but kept putting it off because of money issues and wanting to save as much as possible. i got really close to actually starting it this year, but because of how messy everything is, i put it off again bc having one more thing on my plate, especially when my parents are already weird about me being trans, was not something i wanted to deal with

not to mention, we're still currently not living under a lease in our house that we're, as far as i'm aware, still tens of thousands of dollars behind in rent on (again, my dad refuses to disclose our financial position honestly with any of us) and it's developed many, many issues bc the landlord, even before we were behind on rent, is shit and refuses to actually fix anything. and my dad loves to just ignore things unless we beg him to do something

i'd love to be on my own (in the, much more affordable, midwest) by the end of summer. i by no means want to rely on donations and i have other avenues i'm working with to make money (i still have my current full time job, but i'm going through my old belongings and selling a lot online), but i'll take any help i can get atp because i'm truly at my wits end. i'd start doing art commissions again if i could, but doing that from 2020-2022, partially on top of my full time job, absolutely wrecked my right hand and i'm still in enough pain that i can't make it a regular activity

idk how much else there is to say. there's more i could say but... i don't really wanna air all my dirty laundry here. i'm miserable in so many ways and it's just become increasingly clear that my dad expects me to constantly cover his ass. my younger brother gives money too, but he manages to go on big cross-country and overseas trips with friends, so i think i've been stuck with the burden of giving the most money. there's so many more things going on in the world rn and everyone is stretched thin so i don't expect much, or anything, but. idk. might as well throw it out there, right?

i’ve also since taken down the gfm i set up last year when we got our first eviction notice bc, while we still need the money, i don’t feel right keeping it up for multiple reasons, including “i don’t want to give any of that money to my family” and it feels too… serious to keep it up when i could just throw out my kofi instead

i just want to make sure i have some sort of safety net to catch me if i move before anything job-wise is finalized. i need to be able to afford a place to live for at least a month so i can job-search while physically being in the area i wanna move to, which would ultimately make it easier for me to find a job at all. i'm working on being more firm with giving less money so i can actually have the means to move and be safe and comfortable, but... that never lasts long in this house

anyway. that's it, i guess. thanks for reading

[snippychicke]

It's Just Business -- Four

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen so far

Pairing: Sanji/Reader

Warnings: No real warnings, but god, I hope you like pining

Summary: You felt like you had known Sanji forever, considering your family had been the main merchants Zeff used to supply the Baratie. You had a small crush on him, but knew it was hopeless considering you were the one woman he didn't seem to pine over. 

It was fine. Or so you thought until you ended up on the Going Merry as a bookkeeper and supply manager. Being around him 24/7 was a lot more difficult than just a few days a week.  

(Please note 》°《 denotes a scene in the past while -*- will be a regular scene break. Because yeah, I like my non-linear story telling.)

Masterpost | Ao3

Coco village was freed of Arlong after several long years. You had already talked with several of the townsfolk about restarting trade routes to help restore their village-- they did have some of the best tangerines in the region, after all. Plus, being the closest to the Baratie meant even fresher items for the restaurant, as well as a large boost to their own economy. 

Business was your trade, and one of the very few ways you could help out. You also helped Sanji prep food for the entire community as a celebration, which challenged the small set of culinary skills you did have. Still, you would take it any day over the fight had left you wondering how you were even standing. 

(You also desperately tried not to think that this might be the last time you watched him cook. To see the light in his eyes as he mentally went over his recipe, assuring everything was going to be perfect. 

Eventually the evening wore into the middle of the night and you found yourself sitting at one of the few bonfires still burning. You were nestled between Nami and Sanji (Well, closer to Sanji than Nami) with the rest of the Strawhat crew circling the fire as well. You enjoyed just listening to the others, the events of the day leaving you tired. It was probably more than okay for you to slip away to bedrolls Nami’s sister had prepared for the crew, or even trekking back to the Going Merry to crash, but you felt reluctant to leave. Even if you were struggling to keep your eyes open. 

"It'll be nice not to be the only girl onboard," Nami sighed during a lull in the conversation, making you frown as you glanced over at her. "Being surrounded by those three was hard enough, let alone Chef Flirt."

Sanji leaned forward, giving the redhead a wink. “Just want to make sure you’re aware how beautiful you are, Nami dear”

Your chest tightened. You had assumed she had known, but then again, Luffy was still insisting you were part of the crew. "Actually…I'm not staying." Your words caught the attention of everyone else, and suddenly you had five pairs of eyes staring at you, making things even worse. "I came to make sure you idiots got here safe and sound,” You insisted against the looks of disbelief that everyone was giving you. “I can't just abandon my job and become a pirate." 

Even if Sanji was doing the same thing. Even if Zeff himself had encouraged you to embrace the chance if you had found it appetizing. And… you kind of did. Even with the fighting, you enjoyed being around the Strawhat Crew and could see yourself becoming quick friends with all of them.

"But you're part of our crew," Luffy was the first to actually protest. "Even with our Navigator back, we need you at the helm! Plus you’re the bookkeeper!" 

“Your ship isn't that big that you need both a navigator and a helmsman,” You argued. “And surely between the five of you, you can manage your own supplies and ledgers." 

"We have a thief, a liar, and Luffy," Zoro of all people pointed out, opening his eye that had been closed before. "And I'm not keeping track of anything." 

Before you could argue, Sanji nudged your shoulder. "You really want to keep ferrying supplies back and forth to the Baratie the rest of your life? The same thing you've been doing since we were kids?" 

Your stomach twisted at the thought. At seeing the firelight reflected in his eyes as he gave you a pleading look. "Well, no," You admitted slowly. Especially considering he wouldn't be there anymore. You loved Zeff, Patty, and everyone else. But… No Sanji to talk and tease? It would be like the restaurant lost its heart…. 

But it was the responsible thing to do. It was good, steady, profitable work. 

"What's your dream?" Luffy asked, staring at you intently from across the fire, the flames flickering in his dark eyes. (There was just something about this boy you couldn't put your finger on that both scared yet compelled you at the same time.)

Dream? You huffed at the thought as you shook your head. You never really had a dream; just short term goals. You had been happy enough with life that you never really questioned what the future could hold. You had listened to Sanji talk about the All Blue through the years with fondness as well as envy. Nothing brought you passion like that. Nothing called you so much to daydream about it day after day, year after year. 

"I don't have one," You admitted quietly with a half-hearted shrug. 

But Luffy refused to take that as an answer. "Surely there's something you want?” he pressed. “More than anything?" 

Something you wanted more than anything? More than anything, you… just wanted to be happy. But compared to Luffy’s dream of being the King of Pirates, Zoro’s goal to be the world’s best swordsman, and Sanji’s own dream of finding the All Blue, your ‘dream’ (if it could really be called that) would likely fall flat. No matter what Nami and Usopp’s own dreams were. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “Not really? I mean, seeing new places would be fun," You offered, hoping no one could tell your cheeks were darkening in the firelight. “But I don’t know if it's enough to compel me to leave everything I know behind.” 

~*~

Sanji swore he could feel his heart drop into his stomach as you dug your heels into your refusal. The bright future he had just been daydreaming of suddenly grew dark as you faded from it. 

Were you really so against the idea of joining the crew? Of becoming a pirate? Despite pirates being the cause of your parents death, you hadn’t seemed to hold any ill-will to the so-called profession itself. Plus you had just admitted that you didn’t want to stay in the same routine for the rest of your life. 

Without thinking, Sanji placed his hand over yours, bringing your attention to him. Those wide, bright eyes that he loved so much, now filled with doubt, worry. 

“What about finding the All Blue together?” he asked softly, squeezing your hand softly. In all of his daydreams of finding the uncharted area, seeing the mixture of all the four seas together, you had been right there beside him. To the point he couldn’t  imagine the All Blue without you there, grinning ear-to-ear and just as excited as him. 

You bit your lip as you looked away, though you squeezed his hand softly. He could tell you were lost in thought, allowed you a moment to go over the pros and cons in your head as you always did, debating if it was worth the risk. 

(Please, he prayed, let him be worth the risk.) 

You sighed in defeat, leaning against him suddenly with your head on his shoulder. “Okay, fine. I’ll join your crew.” 

He heard the other cheer, but it mostly fell on deaf ears as he untangled his hand from yours so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly as he pressed a kiss to your hair. “Thank you,” he whispered to the crown of your hair. 

"I've sailed the same stretch of water all my life,” you stated just as softly. “It'll be neat to see other places for once."

Sanji was determined to show you the world as you searched for the All Blue. Whatever it took so you didn’t regret your choice. He’d hunt down every natural and man-made wonder to make it up to you if need be.  

》°《

"Oh god, you're gonna be one of those," You swore when you found Sanji on the back deck of the Baratie that was restricted to staff only and mostly filled with crates and barrels of overstock. 

But your focus was on the thin white cigarette in his mouth, the lit tip bright in the shadow cast by the restaurant. A lot of the cooks smoked, so it wasn't surprising to see Sanji had picked up the habit. Yet you couldn't help wrinkle your nose--mainly just to give him grief. 

"Oh shut it. I've heard enough from Zeff," He grumbled as you perched yourself on the crate he was leaning on. 

"He means well." Sanji merely grunted at your defense of the older man. Silence fell and blanketed the air as you both looked out at the ocean, listening to the waves gently lap at the sides of the restaurant. 

"I guess I should break the news," You sighed, and watched his shoulder tense as he took a deep inhale of the cigarette. It had been a few weeks since the death of your parents-- since you found your way back to the Baratie where you had been accepted with open arms by the crew, proving they were every bit the family you had felt. Yet you knew you weren’t one to stay in one place, used to having the wind in your hair as you headed to the next destination. Bussing tables, waitressing, all the jobs you were qualified for on the Baratie drove you up the wall after doing it for a few days in a row. 

He knew you couldn’t stay still, and you knew he didn’t like the idea of you leaving. 

But the suppliers Zeff had reached out to proved that they did not hold to the same kind of quality that you believed the restaurant deserved. "I'm going to take over my parent's route. My vessel will be smaller, so I'll have to make more frequent trips, but like Zeff said, that just means fresher ingredients for the restaurant." 

The relief in Sanji's frame was easy to see, warming your heart. You even caught a small smile on his face as flicked away the ash into the ocean. "Aw, were you worried, lil' eggplant?" 

He rolled his eyes, though his smile didn't fade even as he looked up at you. "Didn't want to have to deal with some random idiots that don't know what they're doing. That's all." 

"Mmhmm," You hummed doubtfully as you slid down from your perch to stand beside him, nudging his shoulder with your own. (You were a little irritated that he had reached his growth spurt and was now taller than you.) "Either way you're not getting rid of me that easily. You're gonna be stuck with me forever." 

You couldn't imagine leaving the crew after everything. Just being alone the few days between the restaurant and port made you nervous enough. But you had to pull your weight, prove that while you may not serve the restaurant directly, you were vital enough to keep around. 

What you weren't expecting was Sanji suddenly wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him to the point your back was pressed against his chest as he muttered in your ear. "Is that a promise, lil' miss." 

Your heart was pounding in your chest from the near-sultry tone. You knew he was just playing, just seeing if he could get you flustered. A game of chicken. That's all this was. You pushed away the butterflies and twisted in his grip and wrapped your arms around his shoulders with a devious grin, hoping your blush didn't betray you. "It's a threat, my good sir." 

Sanji smirked, his gaze lingering on you for a long moment before he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. A friendly gesture… or so you had convinced yourself as he let you go. 

Because there was no way he saw you like the fancy ladies that visited the Baratie. Not when you had known each other for so long. You were friends. Friends that playfully flirted just like you bantered and cussed each other out. 

 Right? 

[merakiui]

HOLY!!!!!!!!! Can i have Floyd with "what's up with not calling me back?"??? if you're still doing the fwb dialogues!!!

(fwb dialogues)

For most of the week, Floyd's committed himself to following you around like a lost puppy. It was amusing the first day (and ominous to those who weren't aware of his involvement with you), but now it's Friday and you're beyond fed up. It was one thing to watch him seat himself beside you at lunch, thereby snatching Ace's usual spot, but it's another entirely to have him wait outside of Ramshackle to pick you up.

He's determined. You weren't expecting he'd last through the week. You're not particularly entertaining when you're so focused on your own priorities, but somehow that hasn't deterred him.

"Do you need something?" you ask, shutting and locking the door. Grim left before you, but now you almost wish he was here. The tension, though not as thick, is still troubling to navigate.

"Nah. Just wanna shadow ya today."

"You've done that all week."

"Shrimpy's been interesting all week."

You roll your eyes and stride ahead. He easily falls into step beside you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. It's quiet for all of two minutes before Floyd decides to break it.

"So what's up with not calling me back?"

"You'd know since you were following me all week." You peer up at him, arms folding sternly over your chest.

"That's just it. I don't."

"I was busy, Floyd."

"Busy," he parrots with a slight frown. "Mmkay."

"I need to study for a few upcoming exams."

"I getcha."

"So you can't distract me."

"I'd never."

"I'm serious. I need to get my grades up. I'm on the verge of falling behind."

"So I'll study with ya."

"Absolutely not."

Floyd pouts. "It ever occur to you that I wanna spend time with you outside of sex?"

"Not once."

"Well, I do."

"I highly doubt that." When he doesn't justify that with a retort, you add, "I haven't been ignoring you if that's what you think."

"I never said that."

"Okay... So why're you so hung up on me not calling you back?"

For a slim second, you think he looks conflicted. There's doubt in those normally bright two-toned eyes of his. But then it's gone, quick as a flash, and Floyd's back to wearing his sticky smile.

"'m not hung up. I was gonna ask ya somethin' real important."

"And you couldn't text it to me?"

"Nah. Calling's better." Floyd skips ahead towards the building. "You doin' anything for break?"

"Probably not."

He turns to look at you. "Cool."

You hurry to catch up, taking the stairs two at a time. "Why? Are you?"

"Yeah. I'm not gonna have my phone, so we won't be able to call."

"What? But... Oh, right. The sea." You wonder if you'll miss him during those two weeks. It'll definitely be quieter. "Have fun."

The both of you come to a halt in front of your classroom. He smiles at you. It looks sincere enough, almost hopeful.

"You could come with, y'know."

"To the sea?"

"Where else? Jade 'n I will show ya around. Take ya to our favorite spots."

"I'll think about it."

"Aren't you writing a paper on merfolk? You could study 'em up close if you came with. I'll even letcha check me out for your research."

You raise a curious brow. "Is that the 'real important' thing you wanted to ask me?"

"Maybe. I'll tell you if you come with. I'll get Azul to make you a potion. He'll do it."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch."

"Where would I stay?"

"My parents' place. They'll let you. Won't be a problem at all." He tilts his head at you. "Sooo, you comin' or not?"

"Um... I don't know. I'll think about it."

"Sure. Lemme know when you decide." Before he takes his leave, he adds, "I bet your paper'll be a real hit. Might even get you back to passing."

You scoff. "I can write it without your help."

"Of course you can. I never said you couldn't." And then he's slinking off to his classroom, his giggle still bouncing around inside your brain.

When you find your seat in class and dig your textbook out of your bag, a startling thought hits you: Wait. I'd stay with him at his parents' place?!

Just what are you getting yourself into? More importantly, why do you feel so inclined to agree?

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Three

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Another update this week?? I'm as shocked as anyone else, but hopefully this one will make up a little for the last! It's longer and a little less, um, idk, I can't say emotional?? because that would be a lie:/ Still, there are some developments! Also, it'll make sense a lot later but the 2nd image and the use of a Ride song are used in this one!

Hope you enjoy! Also thank you for all the love on this current series, it means a whole lot and keeps me writing xx

Warnings: similar to that of the last post! so pls look back there if you'd like to know!:)

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

“I said no.”

Stressed was a feeling beyond words at this point. The past couple of days all I’d had was press hounding at me, calling and texting, emailing at all hours of the fucking day. They wouldn’t let up, even after I’d stayed silent. Adi reckoned it was mostly down to Teddy’s involvement in the whole thing. I didn’t want to think much more about it, although I knew she wasn’t wrong.

“Give me a reason at least?"

I shot a scathing glare over my shoulder before turning back to the filing system I’d taken to reorganising. It was my first morning back at the studio since... yeah, well Finn had Teddy- another factor to my current load of stress- whilst Adi was off doing something or other. I hadn’t asked, fearful of putting more of a strain on her current friendship- relationship??- with Ross, so instead I’d just chosen to tidy and rearrange the entire setup we had going on here. Because that was perfectly normal. And not a fucking way to evade talking or thinking about the mess that was my life. Okay?

“I don’t need a fucking reason, I just don’t want to.” I retorted, hissing slightly when I suddenly cut my thumb on the edge of a document. I withdrew my hand quickly and raised it towards my mouth, letting my eyes slip close for a moment when I heard a footfall step closer.

“Let me see.” Jamie sighed, probably thinking I’d done something worse to my hand than just a papercut. To be fair, the cabinet was old. One of them filing types from the ninety’s that we’d gotten for a score down at some boot sale, so I wouldn't be surprised if one of us did eventually end up losing an arm.

I shook my head and pushed the cabinet drawer closed, “It’s fine, just a papercut.”

Jamie huffed an amused chuckle before settling down on the edge of the desk nearby. It was Adi’s, you could tell from the sheer amount of shit she had accumulating it.

“One thing after another with you.”

My head tilted towards him with a deadened expression, “Ha ha.”

The older man raised his hands up in a mocking surrender, showing he hadn’t meant any real harm. “Too soon?”

I kicked at the toe of the leather boots he wore in retort as I moved towards the kitchenette, aware that he was just trying to lighten my horrendous mood but not really in the right mind for it. 

“You want a brew?” I asked, not bothering to give him an honest reply to that question of his. Too soon? Yes, that was all too fucking true.

“Have a coffee if there’s one going.”

I dipped my head in a slight nod, filling the kettle and setting it to boil before snagging the coffee often reserved for guests on the show from a shelf nearby.

Jamie moved to better face me on Adi’s desk as I did so, wearing that same expression he’d turned up in, all concerned and weary. It bothered me a bit, seeing as though it was all I had garnered since the press had had their field day with my life, but I could also understand why. They all just seemed to feel for the idiot stupid enough to fall into another of Matty Healy’s traps.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” He wondered around a light chortle at my demand, hands falling to rest between his thighs.

I gestured towards his face whilst I poured a splash of milk into my mug, “Looking at me like that, like I’m gonna break or something.”

With a sigh, he pressed his lips together. “You know it’s not like that.” I rolled my eyes in return but he just bounded on, “You know it’s not, I just care is all.”

I forced out a breathless chuckle, “That why you’re here trying to get me to hear him out then?”

To be fair to him, Jamie had come right out with it when he’d first popped by, having messaged me asking after my whereabouts earlier this morning. I’d told him, having spoken to him quite a bit over the last couple days, and then found him on the doorstep. 

Jamie had been good with everything. He’d let me vent, rally against one of his friends and clients, question his own motives- and hadn’t even complained one bit. But now he was here asking me to give Matty a chance, a lot like he’d done that first time around in that small cafe all those months ago.

“I know you’re angry, you have every right to be.”

“Of course I’m fucking angry!” I immediately shot back at him, the rattle of the teaspoon ringing out as I dropped it into a mug, “I wouldn’t care if it had just been me he’d gone and fucked over! But he brought Teddy into this shit, Jamie. My son! So tell me, how am I supposed to hear him out after he’s done something like that and then lied about it? For weeks, mind you.”

Jamie looked back at me, wearing that ‘this meant business’ mug of his. I slumped at the sight, pressing my knee against one of the lower cabinets to continue stirring the drinks. I didn’t care, I didn’t care, I didn’t care.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Mouse.”

My eyes slipped closed at his words and I took a second to just breathe. Because I wasn’t angry, not really. I was hurt and humiliated, and just so fucking sad. Fed up with it all, if I was being honest. Enough so that I knew that Jamie was being truthful here- and not just because it was a fact that I hadn’t spoken to Matty since things had fallen apart, but also because I hadn’t had the heart to ask Teddy about things yet. Or if ever.

The kid was four. Four, and asking after a man every night before he fell asleep and then as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning.

He knew something was up, he was smart like that. But what was I meant to do- to say? When I was just as confused as he was.

I’d ended up leaving him with Finn today, having had no other choice in the situation because the nursery was closed for an inset day, or some shite like that, and it seemed I had no other friends than the few around me. 

Could quite literally count the lot of them on one hand. 

But still, Finn and I’s relationship had still been rather rocky after that whole incident with him and Matty, and hadn’t improved since. In fact, he’d been a little unbearable about everything, always one to toot his own horn whenever he was right about something. But it was always slyly and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was a constant dig, like even when he wasn’t commenting on it he was still thinking it whenever he looked at me.

Which felt so horrible to think, let alone say out loud. He was my best friend. So I’d kept my mouth shut and just dealt with it, like I did everything else in life.

“He’s messed up about it.” Jamie then spoke, his voice having startled me a tad, breaking me out of my musings. He was watching me again, only when he did it, it didn’t feel as condescending as everyone else's. Like he understood my position. And I guessed that he probably sort of did.

“I bet.” I scoffed quietly, an airy titter escaping through my nose, and then I turned to toss my teabag away.

“It’s true.” Jamie shrugged, then nodded in thanks when I pushed a coffee his way. “He’s been ‘round Ross’s ever since shit hit the fan, hasn’t left the flat. Driving the lot of us mad, but he’s torn up, Mouse.”

Tongue in cheek, I wrapped my hands around my cup and propped my hip up against the counter, staring into the still swirling liquid. “Serves him right, I guess.” I replied with a soft shrug of my own, though we both knew I didn’t quite mean it.

Jamie looked over towards one of the windows to the right, most of them were either way too long or too tiny for the space, an odd build, but this particular one gave way to the skyline lying over the remainder of the city. I often wondered what the lower levels might look out at, thinking it was probably the majority of the surrounding buildings, and couldn’t help but feel a little thankful that we’d managed to snag this unit.

When he glanced back over at me, I took a sip and let him speak.

“A lot went on, that much I know, and it’s your choice how you deal with it. But, I saw the two of you. I saw him change. Which is stupid to say, I know, but it doesn’t stop it from being true. He was different with you, he actually tried in other aspects of his life and not just with the band and the music. He looked genuinely happy.” He smiled softly at the eye roll I gave, but it didn’t appear to deter him. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you didn’t fucking cure him. Don’t work like that, does it? But you helped. You and Teddy both.”

I looked away then, back towards the window, unable to really help it, and instead allowed my eyes to trail over the clouds which powdered the dusty blue sky. 

“It was different. Things were different, and I know that there was love there. There couldn’t not have been. The way he looked at you…” Jamie shook his head ever so slightly as he breathed out, unaware of just how deeply his words had cut. But then he peered over at me and I found myself already looking back, air caught somewhere in the swell of my lungs. 

“Don’t.” I choked out, the grip on my mug having tightened tenfold. “Just,” I shook my head.

Jamie put his coffee down on the desk and moved to stand, hands raised to convey he wasn't a threat. “I’m not saying this to hurt you more, love. Just telling you how I saw it.”

I licked at my lower lip, casting my eyes downwards. Our silence stretched and all could be heard was the odd car horn and chirp from beyond the walls of the studio, until-

“Anyone here?”

I blinked back the tears which had started to well in my eyes and sniffed, head shooting up just in time to spot a familiar giant ducking their head under the beam of the doorway, limbs following right after.

George entered but then stopped short when he spotted his manager stood by me, and I laughed to myself at the way the pair of them seemed to eye one another, before stepping in, “Didn’t hear you ring the buzzer.”

Kind eyes darted over to find my soft smile then, welcoming him in, and so George finally moved in closer, laying the jacket he wore to rest over one of the armchairs.

“Yeah, someone was just leaving and let me in.” He answered my unasked question, shrugging as he added, “Dunno whether they recognised me or if they just let anyone up.”

“Probably the second,” Jamie piped up, seemingly having broken himself from his previous bout of surprise, “This lot ‘round here don’t give much of a shit about crap like that.”

I rolled my eyes, but was glad to have a reason to smile slightly. “Or they spotted the BFG making his way over and wanted to avoid pissing him off.”

Jamie cackled whilst George just shot me a narrow-eyed look, “Hilarious. That pot just boiled?” He asked me as he wandered over. I nodded in turn and moved to grab him a cup, only faltering when he lowered my hand with his own and shook his head. “I got it.”

I dipped my head slightly, blinking before taking a step back to let him work. He made a quick go of it, rummaging around the cupboards briefly to find what he needed and only asking for the spoon I still held for some odd reason when he was near done. 

Jamie appeared to have been watching him too, a calculating glaze to his eyes, and he chose that next moment to speak up, “How you been anyway, George? Not seen much of you lately.”

Something unspoken passed between them when George glanced over at him, but I couldn’t tell what.

“Good, busy.” Was what the taller decided on, throwing Jamie a quick smile when he crossed to toss his own teabag in the bin before settling on the counter to the left of me. “You?”

It almost sounded sarcastic, not how he said it but simply because he’d asked it at all, knowing everything that had recently occurred. It must have been a right nightmare for Jamie these last few days, what with him being the band’s main man.

Jamie just laughed though, goodnaturedly, though it was apparent that he was still trying to suss out what was going on, what with George’s sudden appearance. Seeing as I’d never once mentioned him to Jamie.

See, things with George had all started after that studio session Teddy had attended, followed by my wishing him a happy birthday just before Matty had gone and done what he did best. Wrecked it all.

Teddy had become all too smitten with the drummer since he’d first been introduced to the band and their many songs and music videos. He enjoyed the guitar he’d been gifted an awful lot, often playing with it and practising, but each time any sort of song played on the tele or the radio, or even in the car, it wasn’t hard to note the way Teddy instantly mimicked George’s swift movements, pretending to drum along to whatever beat heard. 

George had messaged me on Instagram later that same day, seeing as how apparently Teddy’s appearance at the studio had stuck with him, and asked after him a little. It seemed strange worded like that, but George reckoned that Teds had a real streak of a musicality about him, even as young as he was, and wanted to see if Teddy would be up for learning some more. 

Which had been a Godsend, honestly, what with how the next couple of days had gone down. I’d given him my number via dm just before the storm had started and then the afternoon that had followed the plethora of articles he’d called.

He’d asked how I was at first, almost consoling me in that easy way of his, so full of little words, which had been all too refreshing in truth.

I’d had texts and calls off of practically everyone I knew, even Ronan, the utter prick. And none had managed to soothe me quite like George’s had, seeing as the man had been there too. Not quite in my position, sure, but near enough. He’d even let a little of it slip when he’d popped on over that same day, bringing a bag of takeaway and a roll up drum mat as a gift for Teddy, who had been cooped up with me on the sofa for most of the afternoon. 

The two of them had bonded over it rather quickly, Teddy having been caught off guard by George’s sincerity almost as much as I had been. But then I'd found myself getting to know the drummer too and very much appreciating the unnecessary gesture he’d made for me, even with the pair of us not knowing one another as well as we could have.

I had no idea what was going on between him and Matty, I hadn’t had the balls to ask, but he’d mentioned he hadn’t heard much of anything from him since the night of his party, as well as the fact that his girlfriend, Charli, had been just as annoyed with everything that had gone down.

I knew he’d be stopping by at some point today, we’d made plans to get lunch once he’d heard I was back at the studio on my own, but not recording. I reckoned he was concerned and this was his way of showing it, but it was hard to tell with him most of the time seeing as he’d made it out as though I was doing him a favour here. An effort I came to find I much appreciated. 

“Work, you know how it is.” Jamie replied after a long pause. He was still standing in the same position he’d been in since George arrived, but seemed to move then, picking up what was left of his coffee and pouring what remained down the sink. “But I’d best be going, got a couple calls to make. You gonna be at the studio tomorrow?”

George hummed around his next sip, pulling away with only a dip of his chin. “Should be.”

Jamie smiled, nodding, “Good, I’ll let the rest of them know then.”

I caught George’s slight wince at that, though he didn’t protest his manager's comment. It made me wonder.

Jamie turned to me then, shucking on his jacket. I perked up, not having realised that he really was rushing to leave now. “Remember what I said, alright?”

I blinked, but then nodded. How could I forget? I wanted to ask, but instead said, “You don’t have to head out so quick.”

He sent me a reassuring grin as he flipped over the collar of his coat. “You won’t miss me much,” He then teased before roping me into a hug, “Weren’t lying when I said I had a couple calls though, so it’s best I get out of your hair whilst I still can.” 

I smiled softly at the sound of his lighthearted chuckle and nodded before following him over to the door, “Stay safe.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, all too used to my typical parting now, though amused by it all the same. “Can’t promise anything.” He retorted with a smirk, shuffling over the threshold whilst his eyes flickered back to where George still stood once more. “So, about before?”

I inhaled shakily, though Jamie didn’t seem to notice, fingering the pockets of his jacket in search of his mobile. “I’ll think about it.” I told him.

He flashed me a grin at that, pleased, then let his heel trail over to meet the top step of the metal grating. “Talk to you later then.”

I nodded and watched for a second as he descended the staircase, head bobbing down the first set before he turned and disappeared from view. Sliding back inside, I shut the door quietly behind me, taking a second to steel my nerves before facing the room again.

During that time, George had seemingly gone and made himself comfy on the settee, his mug settled on a coffee table coaster. I moved to join him after putting both mine and Jamie’s cups under the tap to rinse before just leaving them to soak.

George was fiddling with something when I sat down beside him but shuffled over a tad to allow me to get more comfortable, “So what was that about?” I questioned.

“With Jamie?” He asked and I nodded, even though I reckoned he already knew what I was on about. 

He shrugged slightly and I noted the way his finger trailed over a slip of folded paper, it was creased as though it had been played or fiddled with a dozen times too many. My brow seemed to furrow at the sight of it. 

“He tried phoning a few times but I’ve not been too keen on answering, learnt that I’ll just get dragged into the drama if I do.” George finally answered, and for some reason I felt a wad of guilt pool in my stomach upon hearing it, even though I hadn’t been the one to cause this mess.

Or maybe I was just kidding myself.

“Sorry.”

George huffed as he turned to peer over at me, elbows resting on the tops of his knees. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He told me and then gifted me a sweet smile, “None of this is on you. Just thought we were in the clear, you know?” He looked away at that and his smile dimmed into something smaller, almost sadder. “Figured I wouldn’t have to go dodging my mates calls anymore, or be roped into cleaning up everyone else’s messes.”

He reached a hand out to settle on my knee then, probably having noticed the way I was chewing on the insides of my cheek, or maybe the fact that my lip was now trembling. I’d never felt so shitty. So at fault for something I hadn’t really seen coming, nor could I prevent.

“Not your fault, remember?” He reiterated to me, squeezing my joint softly before pulling away. I sniffed before looking up at him with a tiny smile. 

“Promise I don’t usually cry this much. Just been a shitty week is all.” I told him, laughing pitifully as I toyed with the hem of the jumper I’d put on earlier that morning when I’d purposefully avoided the hoodie that had been left on my desk chair, as well as the cupboard full of clothes that didn’t belong to me.

I felt the settee dip slightly before I found him sitting right beside me, lifting an arm to wrap me up in a hug. His cheek came to rest on the side of my head and I felt my heart break that little bit more, because it reminded me that in a second, or two, I wouldn’t have that sense of protection he now offered, shielding me from the rest of the world.

“You’ve been put through the wringer.” George murmured and I had to laugh just a little bit, he laughed too, the sound of it reverberating through his chest to where my head rested. “Fucking cry if you want to, alright? No judgement here."

I spluttered a little on my next chuckle, smiling as I wiped at my eyes. George’s arm just tightened its hold by a fraction, as though he knew it would make things that little bit easier. We both sat there like that for a while, and I appreciated the fact that he was okay with a bit of quiet. That he didn’t run scared from it or try to start up an awkward conversation simply to fill it.

Silence was something I’d come to realise that George often favoured. Because sometimes that was all you really needed.

I don’t know how long we continued like that before he shuffled and pulled that same piece of paper from earlier back into view, holding the corner of it between his forefinger and thumb. I pulled away slightly, looking down at it and then back up at him with a small frown.

“What?”

George merely blinked, staring down at the paper with an odd look before he finally placed it in the hand I had resting on my thigh. My frown only deepened.

“What is it?” I asked him, finger trailing over an edge just as he had done when I’d first spotted it. When I went to unfold it from the opposing corner, he stopped me. 

Confused, I turned to raise a brow at him, only to find him already looking back at me. He bit into his lower lip and then flattened his mouth into a stern line, “I found that when I was last in the studio.”

My chest tightened for some reason, but I was still so baffled. “Okay?”

We were sitting up better now, George’s arm having slipped from my shoulders to come to rest in his lap, fingers trailing over his left hand’s rigid set of knuckles.

“I figured you should see it.” He added in his usual drawl, though his eyes flickered up from the paper to catch mine then and I realised it must've been important. He seemed wary enough to warrant it.

I went to unfold it once again, but then his hand really reached out to stop my own, “I don’t know if I should be here when you do.”

That alone made me even more curious, although there was an edge of caution that now warred at me. “Why?”

George gifted me a gentle smile, the hand that still laid over top of my own squeezing kindly. “I’ll go grab us some food, alright? If you want to open it then do, if not. I won’t mention it again.”

He moved to stand then but my hand shot out to grab at the sleeve of his arm, “George.” But I didn’t know what else to say, I knew I was fearful though.

His fingers moved to meet mine, resting there for a short moment, “It’s your choice. Just, I couldn’t keep it from you.”

I swallowed thickly as he pushed to his feet, the scuff off his heavy boots bouncing off the hardwood floors. Slowly he moved to grab his jacket, giving me time to say no, to deny his offer. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do much of anything really.

The door shut behind him with a soft click a minute later and the quiet of the studio suddenly consumed me. When I glanced back down at the paper I held once more I saw the slight tremble of my hands. I forced myself to exhale, but even that was shaky.

I was careful as I unfolded it, listening to the rustle it made before scrawled lines that had bled through to the other side caught my attention. Pausing, I took a moment to just look at them and then thoughtlessly hurried to reveal the rest of it, taking in its full form. My throat tightened at the sight of familiar scribbles.

You had me from the start  Pulling all the stops out  On the down low, secretly  But I think you knew your psychology  Was working on me  Infatuated  And doing this all wrong  You've got  My number and my name  And you've got me going  Yeah, you've got me going  Can I see you every day?  Do you love me  Like I love you?  Ah, you've got me going  Yeah, you've got me going

(Song: Ride - Future Love)

It was as if something in me had shifted and then turned, sparking itself its very own flame on a bone too sharp and growing and growing until its singed edges burnt and blackened every part of me. 

I must've sat there staring down at it for ages. Crying silently and alone in an empty room, something I’d been avoiding doing since this had all started. Though I supposed it had been inevitable.

His words. His thoughts. Bared to me on a single page. Him none the wiser to any of it. Probably having not even realised it was gone, or missing. And George had read it. He’d seen it and still, after everything, had given them to me.

A tear dropped from my chin then, blotting the page and I could only watch on as the dark ink appeared to cling to it, seeping further and further into the paper. Smudging the ‘Do you love me’ enough so that my breath stuttered and I was suddenly moving all too quickly for my mind to catch up with my thoughtless actions.

Not even a second later my phone was in my hand. 

Messages now To: Jamie O (glasses!) When can he meet me? 

–

Matty had always had a thing for Sundays. 

There was just something about them. Not all that Godly shite that people preached about it being holy and the first day of the week, ‘cause to him Monday would always hold that title- and Monday’s fucking sucked dick. 

No, it was because there was just something peaceful that settled on Sundays, it took him back to simpler times, of days when he’d just been a kid and roast dinners were spent ‘round his nana’s house. Or when Newcastle would play on afternoons and his dad would finally be home to watch with him. 

There was just something about them, you know. He didn’t much believe in luck, typically only the bad sort. But if someone held a gun to his head and told him he had to claim a day which would forever work in his favour, it would just have to be Sunday.

Still, he was unsure on where he currently stood with that sentiment as of late. Seeing as how he was currently in the backseat of a cab, jittery hands clinging onto shaking knees whilst rows of houses, broken up by hues of green and blue, rolled on past him.

It hadn’t been a last minute thing, but it felt much like it. The anticipation was getting to him, he knew that much, sweat licking at the back of his neck whilst his shoulders worked their way up to the lobes of his ears.

Jamie had somehow managed it.

Called him up late last night just before Ross had headed off to bed to tell him that she would finally see him. Jamie’d asked if he’d be alright going alone or if they’d prefer a buffer there, but Matty had immediately declined. So he was doing it alone. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a misstep on his part, if it would have made things easier on her having someone there, or maybe just given him some semblance of relief as the car slowly drove its way over to her house. The very place he hadn’t stepped foot in since the night of George’s birthday party.

But he hadn’t earnt that reassurance. Felt wrong to bring somebody else along either way. So he was stuck, toying with his phone, hoping or praying that a text wouldn’t come through saying that she’d gone and changed her mind.

It had been just under a week since he’d last seen her. But it felt as though time had dragged out slowly, mocking him or maybe even torturing him for all of his many wrongdoings. 

He fretted over what she might say when she caught sight of him, he himself having only spotted the state he’d worked himself into when he’d been getting ready that morning.

There were heavy bags set beneath his eyes from where he hadn’t really slept and his cheeks were hollowed in that way that they used to revert to when he’d have a particularly hard weekend way back when. If the papers caught wind of him he already knew what the first articles would say, what they would so obviously claim. But he knew the truth, just hoped that she would know it too.

He was startled from his mind at the jerk of the car pulling up onto the nearest curb. His eyes widened in sudden alarm when he realised just what that meant and then caught the look of dismay that crossed the driver’s face when the bloke looked back to announce that they’d arrived. If the man didn’t already think he was on something, then now he definitely did.

Matty swallowed stupidly and then tried for a smile, struggling to undo his seatbelt with the kickstart of shaking that overtook his hands. The driver took pity on him though, turning away to fiddle with something up front that probably didn’t need fiddling with, and finally Matty’s thumb managed to catch the button.

Releasing himself from the confines of the car, he paused just before the door could slam close behind him, handing the man a couple notes in tip, if only to apologise for his edgy behaviour or buy himself a little more time if the driver had somehow managed to suss him out even with his hat, hood and scarf. “Cheers.” He said.

The man blinked at the onslaught of cash and then nodded repeatedly, “Yes, thank you.”

Matty exhaled shakily and then dipped his chin in another goodbye, stepping back onto the curb and watching the cab pull away before he found himself alone once more.

This was it, he supposed.

The street hadn’t changed much in a matter of days but his mind made it seem as though it had. As though suddenly he didn’t belong. The odd man out.

He shoved his hands into the confines of his pockets, pivoting on his heel to face what he’d come here to do. But nothing had prepared him for the way his stomach suddenly bottomed out at the sight of her front door.

The sound of a car horn a way away spooked him, causing him to jump, but did eventually force him forward off the curb and onto the cracked pavement. He stared down at all the dips and curves they had to offer him the entire way up the path until finally, he reached her front steps.

If anyone asked, Matty would tell them it was as though he’d been working on autopilot when he pried the silver knocker up from the wood and let it rap twice. Though that would be an utter lie. His head screamed at him the whole while and his fingers blurred before him when he’d raised them up to grasp at the chilled metal. 

He’d never felt so sick, just standing there, the seconds slowly trickling into minutes, or perhaps even hours. It honestly felt as the day was slowly growing colder the longer that he stood there, staring at a coat of familiar paint, before finally hinges creaked and the door opened, revealing a sight that would’ve surely cured sore eyes, if only it hadn’t gone and broken his heart first.

It wasn’t immediate, the effect the past couple days had had on her. It was more in the way she held herself, the sadness which clung to her every fibre, the way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eye.

She stared, caught in a standstill, and for a long moment did nothing before silently and slowly she withdrew enough to allow him through.

Matty didn’t dare utter a word, let alone breathe. Careful to avoid brushing against her or stepping on her toes as he slowly crossed over the threshold to get in, though the hands he’d hidden in his coat pockets curled into fists to keep himself steady.

The first thing he noted upon first entering was the significant state of the flat, it wasn’t messy or untidy by any means, but looked nothing at all like a house typically inhabited by a child should, or at least a monster as chaotic as he knew Teddy to be. It was almost as though Mouse had been expecting a letting agent to pass through with a couple dozen couples, what with how clean it was. He almost reckoned that if he were to crouch down right there he’d probably be able to make out the seam of his jeans in the reflection of the floors.

“You can just hang your-”

“I know.” Matty whispered, not intentionally meaning to cut her off but unable to help himself anyway. 

It hurt, feeling as though he was just a guest in a place he had practically considered home not too long ago. He coughed lightly and shrugged off his coat to do so anyway, hanging it up where he usually did, something which made him pause for a split second, wondering whether this could possibly be the last time he’d have the privilege of doing so.

“Right.” Mouse murmured somewhere behind him, snapping Matty out of his thoughts. She stepped on by him just after, eyes trained on the end of the hallway until they reached the living room, “Erm, I’m just starting on a brew. You can wait here if you want.”

He wanted to follow after her, to fall down onto his knees and fucking sob there at her feet, but he was scared he’d dirty her floors or more than likely end up looking like a total knob. He would. Fucking felt like one just from thinking it. So he did as instructed, moving towards the sofa, taking note of everything and anything the room had to offer him. 

Matty’s eyes flickered over to the kitchen doorway when he realised she’d stopped there, fiddling with her nails before she caught him looking and dropped her hands. “Just realised I didn’t ask if you wanted anything.”

God, it was so fucking strained.

He took a short breath in and attempted to smile, “Tea sounds good.” Was all that he said, and watched on as her brow wrinkled, head tilting with it.

“Uh, I still have that coffee you like. The one you brought over, if you’d prefer.” She told him and he recognised her confusion for what it was, or maybe it was just her weariness over letting him know that his stuff was still where he’d left it. Or, maybe, just fucking maybe he was reading way too much into everything.

“Tea’s good.” Matty murmured, feeling a little less tense now that he knew that she was sort of sitting in the same boat. “But thanks.”

Her chest rose and fell with her next breath and he watched her nod with difficulty at him, still not meeting his eye. “Right, just be a sec then.”

She disappeared past the door with that, whilst he simply stood and listened to the run of the tap and then the flick of the kettle, feeling stupid for having missed something he hadn’t even realised he’d taken note of before. 

But that was just typical, wasn’t it? To miss something so mundane now that it was no longer expected.

Once he heard the clink of mugs Matty allowed his gaze to roam, trailing over the bundle of neatly folded throws settled on the wicker basket by the sofa, ones he knew that if Teddy was here would still be scattered all over the floor before the tv. 

There were a couple of coasters laid out on the coffee table, though the fruit bowl had since been removed, something he knew Mouse did whenever there were only a few pieces left or none at all. There would probably be grapes or something of the sort in the fridge though.

She had a couple of receipts left out on the shelf below the mirror she’d hung up on the wall when she’d first moved in, and the picture frames beside them were still the same. Only one was missing, and he knew which. 

He noticed that the candles over by the lamp were new though, expensive if he remembered rightly because he was sure that he’d spotted them round someone else’s place recently. He wondered briefly over who could’ve gifted them to her, knowing that she much preferred her usual scents, only ever splurging on the larger Yankee Candle jars they had to offer in the local Debenhams.

He found himself smiling at the thought.

It was then that she shuffled back into the room though, stalling his observations. She carried two mugs in her hand and a small plate loaded with biscuits on her forearm. Immediately Matty moved to help her, taking the plate from her even with knowing that she had it handled.

“I could’ve managed.” She murmured, though not unkindly, and then thanked him quietly once she’d gone and placed the mugs down. 

Matty followed her lead, settling the biscuits near the edge of the coffee table, between the two coasters, before fumbling for a second over where to sit. Squeaks seemed to take to one end of the settee so Matty perched on the other, though closer to the middle crease than the arm.

“You got hobnobs?” Matty finally asked, breaking the silence again, eyes flicking over to the plate he’d just held before shooting back over to find her.

She blushed faintly at his comment, then shrugged. “You like them, don’t you?”

Matty scoffed lightly, a soft smile limning his lips, “Yeah, but you hate them. Once claimed that they were like digestives only after being shat out.”

She wrinkled her nose at that, though Matty was quite sure he could spot the mirth that flickered across her face. “Want them or not?”

Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation and knowing not to push it, he picked one up and settled in a little more comfortably into the sofa cushions.

The silence would’ve been almost unbearable if she hadn’t had the foresight to have turned the tv on low before he’d arrived. So whilst a documentary played on one of the many BBC channels, Matty struggled with himself to find the best thing to say. Though he needn’t have bothered, she was always one step ahead.

“So, I think I should start by saying that I um, I know I held a lot of expectations.” 

Almost simultaneously, Matty frowned.

She just wrung her hands together once before thinking better of it and laying them flat in her lap. Matty merely wished to reach out and take them in his own. “And I get that it must’ve been a struggle for you, to basically go from like one end of a scale and then jump right off the other side. But, I-”

“What are you on about?” Matty interrupted, unable to help himself in truth, so beyond baffled by the sudden speech she’d started. She stopped and blinked over at him, finally looking him in the eye. At last.

“What do you mean?” She retorted with a pinch between her brows, “Listen, I planned this all out, alright? So can I just get out what I want to say?”

Matty stared, then forced out a breath of air. “Squeaks,” She shuttered at the name, closing off slightly, enough so that Matty took quick note and wished he hadn’t said a thing, but yet, he still carried on. Desperate to save any blundered attempt he’d make. “Look, this weren’t on you. None of it was, okay?”

Her eyes trailed back over towards him at that, though her expression was almost unreadable. Matty struggled with that bit the most, he’d always been able to read her for the most part.

“So, this crap about expectations and me struggling with whatever idea you’ve made up in your mind is stupid.” Her eyes narrowed then and he watched her work her jaw, obviously none too happy about his retort. He withheld a heavy sigh, “I’m not- Look, I’m not trying to be difficult I’m just saying that- What I’m trying to say is, that every relationship has goals or expectations, that’s normal. But nothing you ever did forced me do what I did. That shit? It was all on me. It was me being insecure and scared, yeah? So, don’t go trying to excuse it. Because I’ve had people do that for me for far too fucking long now and hearing it come from you...” 

He sort of felt himself slump at that, a little bitter and resentful over the fact that she’d since come to think of it that way. As though his mistakes were all just down to her and her inability to do right by him. He realised though, belatedly, that if anyone else had done exactly that, or even attempted to, in any other scenario he just might have taken up the offer and ran with it. But this was her, this was Squeaks. 

She was quiet for a time, then she picked up her mug, eyes trained on the movement of it before, “What then?” 

“What?” Matty frowned once more, shuffling forward in his seat in an attempt to catch her eye again.

“Why did you do it then? Why’d you lie, why didn’t you tell me about Teddy?”

That knot he’d been feeling for weeks now. The one at the very end of his tongue, all tied and tangled in the back of his throat, suddenly shrivelled up and slackened, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a plethora of guilt behind.

Matty’s gaze wandered over to the window, to where Teddy’s guitar sat in its stand just before a heavy set of grey curtains. He withheld the urge to pick at his nails as he searched for the right words to give her, wanting so honestly to tell her the truth, to give her a play by play of what had happened in detail, as well as every thought that had gone through his mind. 

“It wasn’t what it looked like for a start.”

Mouse scoffed a little at that, and Matty couldn’t be mad at it. If he was sat on the other end of this he’d been doing more than just that, he’d be up in arms, tossing shit about and raving to all who would listen.

Still, his eyes trailed down to where his hands now laid in his lap and he pressed his thumb to his palm. “We were on the highstreet, on the way back here.” He started, voice quiet as his stare tracked the faint lines of his hand, “The guy you saw in the pictures came out of nowhere really. Me and Teds had just been at that ice cream shop a way down, I didn’t even spot him until he was there, in my face.”

Matty wet his lower lip, mouth suddenly going dry. Mouse just waited.

“Teddy was quick to hide behind me, you know? The loudmouth didn’t even really notice him until the last minute. But you have to know, all I wanted was to get him out of there. To avoid staying too long and attracting the wrong sort of attention. Okay? So I’d said I had to get going as soon as he'd spoken, told him I didn’t have time to stay and chat.” 

He took a quick breath with that, eyes still centred on the deepest groove of his palm. “But then he, then he brought up Luke. Said something about the funeral he didn't go to and wanting to celebrate his life.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Squeaks’s hands still from their previous bout of fidgeting. “But I told him I was clean. He didn’t believe me at first, which,” Matty huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, “Well, I can’t blame him for that, what with my track record.”

He heard her inhale then and looked up, it seemed as though she was going to say something but thought better. So Matty bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from asking before he exhaled slowly, digging a nail into that groove.

“He got a bit aggy, started calling me a toff and whatnot, because I 'spose I was just a rich boy who bought him a couple grams of coke every now and then.” He clucked his tongue thinking about it, but eventually shrugged. “Then I don’t know, he must’ve looked down or something ‘cause that’s when he,” Matty paused and his gaze shot over to her, then away again, “That’s when he spotted Teddy.”

Mouse wrinkled her mouth, then tried to nod, obviously wanting him to continue. Though she kept her eyes trained on the rim of her mug.

“That’s when he said some shit and I reacted.”

“Said what?”

Matty startled a little at the sound of her question but was hasty in his attempt to answer. “Just, he reckoned that Teddy was mine and that I had to have knocked someone up. So now they were just using me for the money.”

Her eyes slipped closed and her fingers tightened their grip on her cup.

Swallowing thickly, Matty went to continue, “I shoved him and told him to do one- that’s what they caught in those photos. I didn't take anything he offered, I didn't even look back after. Just walked away, thinking of Teddy, trying to get him out of there. The bloke, he kept on shouting, saying some crap about this and that. But I carried on walking.”

Matty was proud of that fact, even with everything that had happened since. Not too long ago, a different version of him would have handled it all too severely. It was a step, a tiny one, sure, but it was progress.

“Then what?” Mouse voiced, prompting him along with just a look.

“Then we walked home.” Matty replied, feeling that familiar cloud of shame dawn over him. “We didn’t really speak, I- I was a bit of a mess, trying to figure out what to do next, what to tell Teddy, to say to make it right again. But Teds, he,” Matty hauled in his next breath, all too fucking close to bawling, that he could admit. “He called for me and I looked down at him. All I could say was sorry, Mouse.”

She nodded tightly, the knuckles she had wrapped around her tea cup had whitened.

“He,” Matty felt the corners of his mouth lift as he remembered the bittersweet memory of Teddy trying to soothe him, “He told me it was alright, that we were okay, but I just kept on saying sorry. He said that the bloke was just a bad man, and I assured him of that. Wanting him to know that we were okay, that the guy was long gone. But then he-”

Matty stopped altogether then, a picture of Teddy's little face coming to the forefront of his mind, and Squeaks immediately took note.

“Then what?”

Her eyes were so full of emotion, but which ones he wasn’t too sure. Still, the sight tightened every muscle in his chest as he forced himself to finish what he’d started. “He said we couldn’t tell you.”

Matty knew he couldn’t have imagined the sharp inhale that sounded from her then, as though she'd just received a blow to the chest. And he so desperately wanted to reach out, to wrap her up and just fucking hold her. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place.

He watched on as she licked at her top lip though, blinking back the wetness that shone in her eyes, “Why?” Her voice cracked on the question but she did not cry.

It was a simple answer. “He didn’t want to hurt you.”

Mouse stood then, placing the cup down with some force before she hastily made her way over to the front window. Matty stayed seated, unsure if he’d be welcome near her.

“It fucking broke me, Squeaks.” He admitted after a moment, his lips now tingled with the sheer amount of effort it took for him to not let his emotions get the better of him. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You should have told me.” Was her reply, sharp and cutting, enough that it fucking wounded. Because Matty knew that she was right.

“I know.” He answered.

“You should have fucking told me, Matty!” She repeated, turning then to face him. He saw the tremble of her shoulders, the curve of her mouth and how it quaked. He stared, couldn't bring himself to look away.

“I know.”

He swallowed, throat almost aching as much as the hole that made up the majority of his chest. 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“I don't know.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

[i-still-mask-because]

in the wake of all this new information during COVID, do you feel that maybe we should all just be masking all the time, COVID of no COVID? I mean it can't be the only airborne disease out there and immunocompromised ppl have always and will always exist so like. Following that thinking even if we don't have COVID we could still be risking other people's health (and lives) with other diseases we may have right? Idk I'm stressing a lot about this do I just need to wear a mask outside forever cos. Masks mess with my breathing and sensory issues and stuff but. I don't wanna?? Kill people by accident??? Aaaaa

Hello, thanks for reaching out about this.

I saw this ask about a month ago, and I needed time to think about how I'd respond to it (so I want to thank you for the patience!).

I'll try to answer all of this to the best of my ability, and I thought I'd answer this by going backwards (responding to the last things you said and then moving up with responding to the first things you said).

Everything is below the cut because this is very long!

First I'll try to summarize what I think you're asking here:

"Vulnerable people exist in this world all around me, therefore does this mean I'm constantly posing a threat to those vulnerable people's safety when I don't mask? The thought of this brings me feelings of stress, fear, and anxiety."

I find this is hard to answer candidly without risking stressing out you or anyone else who's aware of the consequences of their choice not to mask. Nonetheless, my honest answer is: yes, choosing not to mask means risking the lives and safety of vulnerable people, i.e. the disabled, immunocompromised, elderly, children & babies, and those that intersect those groups. That risk can take place directly (such as interacting with an immunocompromised elder) or indirectly (such as interacting with the parent of a disabled child).

I also want to add that it's not only those groups that need protecting. I firmly believe that regardless of your age and/or whether or not you self-identify as disabled or immunocompromised that everyone is at risk of the long-term consequences of this rapidly mutating, vascular, and immunosuppressive virus. No one is invincible to this, and I'll add: not even if you're vaccinated (still get vaccinated if you can, but know that you can still catch covid & develop long covid regardless of your vaccination status).

1. "Masks mess with my breathing and sensory issues."

I understand how that can be difficult to deal with, trust me. There are specific masks (such as most standard KN95s) that irritate the hell out of my face after a certain point. The way those specific masks brush against the hairs of my cheeks just make me want to rip the mask off my face completely. Finding alternatives has been a lifesaver, and they've allowed me to get through the day without wanting to maul someone lol. I don't know what masks you have tried out already, so I'll just recommend the one's I like as well as the one's I've heard good reviews on from people that also have sensory issues:

NIOSH 3m Aura N95 Respirators

Flo Mask

GATA Mask (Haven't tried this one yet, but I've heard a LOT of people say this has been a game changer for them because of how comfortable it is & how it doesn't trigger much sensory issues at all due to its silicone material. Probably the only con I've heard is the chance of the build up of moisture in the mask after a long period of use & water possibly dripping on your face— this happens to me sometimes with my Flo Mask. Edit on Sept. 26, 2023: I tried GATA Mask, and I personally have a tough time getting a comfortable fit & seal with it, even when getting the small/medium size for adults to see if it'll make a difference, and the nose bridge shape not fitting well for me is a huge con. Customer service is just suggesting I spend more, so I'll just give this one a break, for now at least. A lot of other people seem to like it though.)

Halyard FLUIDSHIELD [ASTM Level 3] Mask (My mom works in a hospital, and these are masks she brings home from work. They're VERY comfortable for me, especially when I'm masking at home. I recommend finding a way to tighten the loops that go around your ears to prevent as much gaps around the mask as possible. If tight loops hurt your ears easily, I recommend a mask brace.)

O2 Nose Filters (I haven't tried these out yet as well, but I've seen videos demonstrating how effective these are at filtering out SOOO many unseen particles. I don't recommend using these alone of course, because there's still a risk of inhaling harmful aerosols through your mouth. I would recommend using this as a reinforcement of the protective measures you take. For example: adding on a comfortable surgical mask— ideally one with a high filtration efficiency like the previous suggestion— with the nose filters. I think these nose filters would be great if you're removing your mask real quick to take a sip of water or if you're outdoors with enough distance from crowded areas & groups.)

In the ideal world, more people would mask during this on-going pandemic so those that deal with sensory issues and/or those that straight-up can't wear a mask due to medical reasons wouldn't have to worry so much about choosing between existing & risking their health. For now, we just have to find alternatives.

2. "Do I need to wear a mask outside forever?"

My answer to this is: yes until further notice. There's no foreseeable end to this pandemic right now, but it would be worth the patience to wait for adequate tech, treatment, and cures for covid-19 to be released before even thinking about getting loose with masking.

Societal mandates have been dropped way too soon, and public health in regards to covid-19 is being forced on us as an individual responsibility. As a consequence, this gives this rapidly mutating virus a lot of wiggle room to spread and do whatever it wants. This means doctors and experts don't have much answers yet for adequate treatment because there's a MAJOR lack of containment (such as masking & quarantining) and documentation (such as testing & reporting). This isn't to say there hasn't been any advancements whatsoever: for example, Washington University just developed a breath test for covid that gives results in just 1 minute! This is great news! And this is just one reason why it's very necessary for those who can mask to mask, so scientists are given more time to roll out helpful solutions & tools sooner.

Another thing I'll add is if you're symptomatic and/or are positive for covid, you should 100% be wearing a mask no matter what, point blank period. I say "and/or" because it is VERY much possible to have covid and not experience any symptoms at all; this is a major reason why it's necessary to mask up in public consistently, because you can't always know who you bump into that may have covid or not.

3. "Even if we don't have covid, we could still be risking other people's health (and lives) with other diseases we may have right?"

Yes, there is a possibility of spreading airborne diseases to vulnerable people unknowingly— without the protective & preventative tools that is.

I can only speak for America because that's the cultural zeitgeist I grew up in, but: I feel like many of us can agree that, unless you worked in a healthcare setting, what was "normal" (in America) before 2020 when it came to airborne illness prevention was definitely not the regular use of a mask. American health education mainly taught us if we're coughing & sneezing to try to do so in a tissue or into your elbow, as well as frequently wash our hands. That doesn't account for the way air actually works though. For instance, if someone with the common cold coughed into the inside of their elbow, the particles they coughed out are still able to linger in the air because their elbow isn't creating a tight seal around their mouth (their elbow may have caught the droplets from their cough— which are bigger & heavier— but the smaller, lighter aerosols would just spread around similar to how smoke does); it's the difference between 😪 vs 😶‍🌫️. The only sure way for the germs they've coughed out to be blocked from spreading to other people is if they wear a well-fitted, quality mask/respirator.

I feel like health education from a young age should include the benefits of masking; that way it would be easier to adapt to the need to put on a mask to protect ourselves & others as a collective. It would be phenomenal & wonderful if we as a collective were used to masking the same way we're used to putting on socks before putting on our shoes.

4. "Immunocompromised people have always and will always exist"

Yes, that is true. And that means necessary measures taken to protect them, as well as other vulnerable people, should be the standard.

5. "[Covid] can't be the only airborne disease out there"

Of course not. There's plenty of them. However, not all airborne diseases are the same, nor should they be treated as such. What's been observed in regards to the long-term effects of covid is not at all the same with other airborne diseases. Covid is a highly contagious virus that is more than just a respiratory disease. Its goal is to attack your immune system, nervous system, heart, brain, and/or other vital organs. That's what viruses do. They act smart and sneaky, and they have the capability to trigger illnesses in your body that you may not have had pre-infection:

Chickenpox is known to lead to shingles

Epstein-Barr is known to lead to mono

HPV is known to lead to cancer

Covid-19 has been found to lead to:

POTS

ME/CFS

Stroke & Heart attack

Alzheimer's

Dementia

"Brain Fog"; Memory & Concentration Problems

The list goes on, and these are only what we know of. Covid may not be the only airborne disease, but it definitely is a dangerous one with serious, long-term negative effects.

6. "Do you feel that we should all be masking all the time, whether or not covid-19 exists?"

In regards to masking with the existence of covid:

Yes. Masking is a vital method in the prevention of catching & spreading covid-19, because it is primarily spread through the air.

In regards to masking without the existence of covid:

See my answer for number 3, and also: given the fact wearing a mask can only do more good than harm for most folks, I don't see why not. Imagine a world where we don't have to worry about flu season or allergy season anymore because those aerosols are filtered out from consistent mask wearing. Sounds like the dream to me lol.

-

I hope this made sense! If anyone has anything they'd like to add to answer anon's questions, please feel free to share!

Thank you for reading 😷

[libertineangel]

A history & overview of communist groups in Britain

I've done so much reading into all the different splinter groups here, trying and failing to find one worth joining, that I might as well make all this accrued knowledge useful in case anyone wants to know what the situation is like (spoiler alert, it's a shitshow). I'll put it under a cut 'cause it'll probably get fairly long, and I'll tackle the Marxist-Leninist and Trotskyist sides separately 'cause they split in about 1932 and have barely had any crossover since.

I will not be unduly neutral or polite in my assessments, because Mao would call that liberalism and also it's no fun, so get ready to roll your eyes a lot and understand exactly what made Monty Python do the People's Front of Judea bit.

The (ostensibly) Marxist-Leninist side

In 1920, several smaller Marxist groups merged to form the Communist Party of Great Britain, the official British section of the Third International, and immediately set to work arguing with itself about the viability of parliamentarism, eventually adopting Lenin's position on the temporary utility of reformist unions & parties, which led them to spend several years trying - and even succeeding in a couple of seats - a strategy of entryism into the Labour Party, which is a phrase we will all get tired of by the end of this post; when Labour then lost the general election in 1924 it blamed the Communists and banned all their members, which sounds awfully familiar.

The CPGB did gain a fair bit of support & swelled its membership during the general strike of 1926 though, albeit in a handful of specific areas and industries, and then lost most of them again during the Comintern's Third Period because the workers didn't want to abandon their existing trade unions in favour of revolutionary ones. Did a couple of decent things in the 30s, fought at Cable Street and raised a small battalion for the International Brigades; they went back & forth on their stance on WW2 in line with the Comintern, supported strikes, actually reached their peak membership (~60,000, still tiny compared to their European comrades) during the war because they were the loudest anti-racist, anti-colonial voice around who did do a fair bit to raise public awareness of Britain's horrific treatment of India.

In 1951 they issued a new programme, The British Road to Socialism, which is pathetic reformist bollocks that insists peaceful transition to socialism is possible and sensible, and five years later the Soviet suppression of the '56 uprisings caused a massive split that saw a good 30% or so leave the party, causing them to return to the good old tactic of trying to push Labour and the unions leftward.

Nothing material really came of that and the Party declined further with the Sino-Soviet split, after which a minority of pro-China members left to form the Communist Party of Britain (Marxist-Leninist), which has since turned Hoxhaist (also surprisingly anti-immigration, and I'm fairly sure they're transphobic). Throughout the 70s they got increasingly Eurocommunist until even more revolutionaries got sick of them, and in 1977 another split saw the formation of the New Communist Party of Britain, which claims to still be anti-revisionist while also having spent the last 24 years insisting everyone vote for Labour (also from what I've heard they don't even email potential recruits back, so I doubt they'll survive beyond their current old membership, not that they'll be much loss because I don't believe they've ever actually done anything). Tensions between the Eurocommunist leadership and the Party membership continued to rise through the 80s until a final split in '88 produced the Communist Party of Britain, which is still extant today and still uses that silly electoral reformist programme from the 50s, and as an indicator of how that's going they earned 10,915 votes in the London Assembly elections this year, the third fewest of any candidate, less than half even of the fucking Christian People's Alliance (also their youth wing the YCL has marched alongside TERFs up in Scotland, they're the party that one author endorsed over Labour).

The CPGB finally folded in '91 and its leaders founded a series of steadily softer left think tanks, while other self-declared Leninists went on to form the Communist Party of Britain (Provisional Central Committee), which is so small and insignificant I can't even figure out when they actually started; nowadays they are, to quote someone off Reddit, "a small and almost entirely male group of Kautsky enthusiasts and leftist trainspotters with a knack for the fine art of unintentional self-parody, who regularly publish articles defending Marxism against the feminist menace."

Entirely separate from all that shit, in 1972 a group of students inspired by Hardial Baines formed the Hoxhaist Revolutionary Communist Party of Britain (Marxist-Leninist), and honestly I don't really know much about them because nobody online seems to have any idea if they do anything and looking at their website burned my fucking eyes. There's also the Communist Party of Great Britain (Marxist-Leninist) (yeah a different one), formed in 2004 when a bunch of people got expelled from infamous union leader Arthur Scargill's party; they are so rabidly transphobic it makes the CPB look welcoming.

Finally, there's the Revolutionary Communist Group, which surprisingly formed out of the Trotskyist International Socialists (which became the SWP, we'll get to that soon); they're not a formal Party because they don't think the revolutionary situation here is developed enough for one, but they are fairly active in protests and pickets. Unfortunately, back in 2017 they dragged their heels investigating a member's sexual assault and then let the perpetrator back in after a two-month suspension and apology letter.

The Trotskyist side, if you can stomach it after all that bollocks

Modern British Trotskyism descends entirely from the Revolutionary Communist Party of 1944, formed by the merger of two smaller groups at the request of the Fourth International. They split after three years over the viability of entryism into the Labour Party, with the majority correctly seeing it as bollocks. Unfortunately, the majority RCP did fuck all afterward and grew disillusioned enough with the leadership to throw their lot in with the minority breakaway known as The Club, who kicked them all out again and proceeded to never do anything of note whatsoever (they eventually changed their name to the Workers' Revolutionary Party and imploded in about nine different - equally irrelevant - directions in the 80s when founder Gerry Healy was expelled for having serially abused women in the party for decades).

Followers of notable RCP member Tony Cliff (formerly the 4I's leader in Palestine) joined him in his new Socialist Review Group, devoted to Trotskyism but breaking from orthodoxy in favour of Cliff's theory of state capitalism that's silly even by Trotskyist standards that I don't think even the party itself really adheres to anymore. They changed their name to International Socialists in 1962, tried to appeal for left unity and got roundly ignored by everyone except a small Trotskyist group called Workers' Fight, which joined the IS, swelled their own ranks, tried to challenge the leadership and got thrown out again; they still cling onto existence as the Alliance for Workers' Liberty, whose existence I had completely forgotten until I saw a poster of theirs down my road and remembered I was in fact at the London Young Labour conference which banned them for refusing to properly investigate the repeated abuse of a teenage boy in their youth faction. The IS still tried to grow, but expelled what would become the aforementioned RCG in '72, expelled the faction that's now Workers Power in '74 (whom I have never heard of, which at least means I don't know of any awful shit they've done), tore themselves in half in '75 when Tony Cliff decided older workers were reformist and recruitment should focus on the youth, and in 1977 they renamed themselves the Socialist Workers Party. The SWP did do a few decent things, like form the Anti-Nazi League and organise Rock Against Racism, but to be honest those had a much bigger impact on the British punk scene than actual politics. Using charities and campaign groups to jump on bandwagons for shameless self-promotion is mostly what they're known for these days, along with making placards for any protest anywhere no matter how irrelevant they are to the party's platform; their membership and image among the left took a tremendous blow in 2014 after the Comrade Delta scandal, in which they were found to have covered up the National Secretary's repeated sexual abuse for years.

Followers of other notable RCP member Ted Grant joined him (after their expulsion from The Club) in his Revolutionary Socialist League, which believed in entryism into the Labour Party, and in 1965 it split with the 4I (because the 4I thought they were shit) to become Militant. They actually managed to take control of Labour's youth wing and successfully pushed the Party to commit to nationalising the country's major monopolies, but when Labour - on a platform of spending cuts and reformist liberal appeasement - lost the election to Thatcher in '79 they blamed it on the Communists and in December '82 they got blacklisted (which sounds awfully familiar). Took a while for that to sink in though, and Militant-affiliated members actually managed to take over Liverpool City Council through the mid-80s - they planned a massive amount of public works building, cancelling redundancies and other such things that sounded good but they really couldn't pay for, and tried to play bankruptcy chicken against Margaret Thatcher, which went as badly as you'd imagine and embarrassed them on the national stage (even if the people of Liverpool still supported them). Their last act was to help instigate the Poll Tax Riots in 1990, but that was one good deed to many for a Trotskyist group and they finally split in '91 - a majority decided they should finally sever ties with Labour and strike out on their own, while the minority insisted that entryism into the Labour Party really could net real national success if we just keep trying come on guys let's stay on the sinking ship history has taught us nothing!!!

The majority formed the Socialist Party, who have done nothing of note ever, and in 2013 they failed to adequately respond to sexual harassment within their ranks. In 2018 their international, the Committee for a Workers' International, experienced a split which it looks to me was over the old established leadership not getting with the times when it comes to women and LGBT+ people, and the majority went off to form the International Socialist Alternative, with the Socialist Alternative being its British branch; just last April the Irish section disaffiliated with the ISA because of its poor handling of abuse allegations against a leading member.

The minority stayed in Labour under the name Socialist Appeal, under the leadership of Ted Grant & Alan Woods, never really doing anything, and in 2021 Keir Starmer's left purge finally banned them, which was totally unrelated to their decision to finally strike out on their own this year as the Revolutionary Communist Party (yeah a different one). They're a money-grabbing newspaper-obsessed cult who've harboured abusers in five different countries, and to be honest I don't even see why they still exist now that they're no longer devoted to entryism considering that was the entire reason they split from the rest of Militant in the first place, they might as well reunify with the CWI or the ISA but far be it from me to expect insular Trotskyist control freaks to make sensible, practical political moves or to ever get the fuck over a split.

[sawyer-is-eepy]

MaDD and plurality

okay so we're MaDD, right?? and we're also plural??

NOBODY talks about how freaking hard that makes communicating omg.

constantly i'll be trying to talk to someone and then i drift off and suddenly they are completely drowned out OR they're ALSO daydreaming!! it's so frustrating, because it means that to even semi-effectively communicate, i have to talk out loud. if i have to communicate something important and we're in a public place i just have to focus REALLY hard on internal communication and it sometimes STILL doesnt work.

on top of that, we have ADHD so it's even harder, and talking out loud still doesn't work that well because without another person physically here to snap me back to reality whenever i'm daydreaming, if i start daydreaming, i'm just stuck until i realize, which can be anywhere from within a minute to literally 20+ minutes. usually they're able to get my attention by that time, but it's hard because our communication is not easy for anyone but the host(me, who is ALWAYS fronting) to initiate, so unless i actively open myself to communicate with them, it's hard for them to get my attention. sometimes my daydreams even last hours, but that usually doesn't happen when i'm not actively deciding to daydream. so yeah, it's really difficult because i've already got issues focusing, and adding basically irresistable urges to daydream at random that get triggered way too easily on top of that, inner communication is SO HARD.

anyways, this makes making a tulpa really fucking difficult because forcing is really hard.

but here are my tips, for other MaDD, especially anyone making a headmate/alter/tulpa/parogen/whatever themself -

incorporate your daydreaming into the communicating/forcing. like daydream you and that alter hanging out and then communicate via that. this does not ensure that you won't start daydreaming about anything else, but it lessens the chances. if you try to force yourself to not daydream at ALL the urges are gonna be much harder to ignore, at least for me. if you're ALREADY daydreaming, and it gets interesting enough, minor distractions are gonna catch your attention less and less because you WANNA focus on this one daydream. it becomes much more enjoyable.

this kind of like the last one, but this is more specific to tulpa/parogen forcing. don't really view it as a chore, which i've accidentally been doing more and more. not a chore i dislike, but i've been viewing it like something i have to do every single day for x amount of time other wise it wont work and it'll fail horribly and everything will be ruined, when it shouldn't need to be that. it shouldn't be on a to-do list, unless that really works for you(which if that's the case that's freaking awesome and you should probably ignore this tip). idk about everyone else, but it's much easier for me to daydream if i'm treating something like something i need to do because it's so much more tempting to just go live somewhere else for a minute while i do things i need to do. i often daydream doing chores because it's not interesting enough to keep me grounded. so, to make sure it gets done, i drift off while i'm doing it, so i am doing it in the real world but to me i'm in another world or in one of my stories. but for forcing, to be able to do it, you HAVE to be constantly aware and present. if you view it like you're just having a fun little conversation with them, it becomes like whenever you're bored or lonely just like you would reach out to a friend, but instead you're getting some talking to your head friend in. even if it's not traditional forcing, it works and develops them more, even if it's just a bit here and there. idk about everyone else, but i think partially because of my ADHD and partially because of my MaDD, whenever i have a chore i need to do i kind of put it off if i'm already doing something. i don't really *want* to put it off, but i just can't get my body to move. especially when I'm daydreaming. because, why would i get up and do the boring thing when i can watch my story in my head ? it's so much easier to sit and do nothing. but as we all know, that ADHD paralysis is so so SO stress inducing, the best option is to always get up and try to force yourself to. idk if non-ADHD MaDD will relate at all though, because that paralysis is mostly exclusive to those with ADHD afaik, but for me, my MaDD makes it much worse. anyways, that probably didn't make much sense sorry

write down what everyone is saying. this makes it much easier to keep track of what they are saying and stay present, but it also documents the conversation as well. so even if you weren't that present during the conversation, or you're worried you'll forget something important, you'll have a record to read back on later if you need! and also with created alters/headmates, keeping track of their progress is always incredibly important!!

don't listen to music! this one might be a bit of a given but unless it's like instrumental music that you genuinely won't pay that much attention to but still helps you focus, DON'T listen to it. songs are an easy gateway into a daydream. ESPECIALLY songs with lyrics, even ones that you can't understand because they're in another language, which by the way for literally any other thing you need to focus on, that's a great tip, listening to music in other languages, because you can still focus with interesting music in the background but the lyrics arent grabbing you at all. anyways back to plural-related MaDD tips, yeah, don't listen to music. even if that song usually doesn't catch your attention. for me, if i'm talking, internally or externally, and there's music with lyrics playing, i reallyyy cannot focus on what i'm(or others, again, internally or externally) are saying. idk, might just be some sort of auditory processing issue related to my ADHD but i cannot focus on it, and because it's hard, i just need to pick one, and sometimes my brain picks the song and i just. stop talking. and start daydreaming.

idk what to do if you're not fronting and trying to communicate with whoever is fronting, because i've not switched(like i mentioned before, the host, who is me, has never not been the one fronting), but if anyone has any other tips either related to that or the ones i already have here, please feel free to let me know because i'd love to hear them and i'm sure others do too!! anyways, i hope i helped, idk this might be too specific to me.

[isa-ghost]

Why do I feel like CC!Phil is reading your fic and is taking notes.

Dude so many people have joked about this now both in his chat, in my friend servers and on here LMAO.

There's no way he is imo. Cause like. Yeah he has a Tumblr, but he and Kristin (usually Kristin) only look at the fanart. And I think they only use the fanart tag, which my fic isn't in.

And that's like, as of 3 years ago at this point. Nowadays who knows if they look at Tumblr at all. Given the recent Tumblr vs Tubbo drama and Phil being made aware of it at one point, I don't think he's looking here at all present day.

He also had no idea the fic existed before the last stream when I lovingly yelled at him on TTS about a) plotting chapters 7-12 in greater detail and obsessing over it and b) jokingly telling him to stop coincidentally following chapter 1 to the letter. That and generally speaking, he semi-purposely doesn't look into things he's told about on TTS. Case in point: song recommendations.

But it's still WILD that last stream was so close to chapter 1. Like. Here's the things I completely by chance predicted:

The massive loot trip while the kids slept for a long time

Rationalizing unnecessary loot he was grabbing

Eventually saying fuck it and demolishing entire chests and taking ALL loot instead of just what he wanted

Tallulah grilling him about it all and him playing it off as nbd

The Ender King themed backpack (though Phil made it in the fic, it wasn't a gift)

LIKE. I WAS SCREAMING ALL STREAM LONG. And at least 10 chatters asked me to whisper them the link to AMFMN since I kept having a stroke about it in chat.

But realistically, Phil nor Kristin are in the places where AMFMN is being posted (here and ao3). And to our knowledge, they haven't read fanfics from the community in years.

Though, I am acutely aware of how there are at least 2 iconic crows I can think of that are VIP in his chat and/or well-known in the community for their fanworks, one of which is a fic writer. So like. The chances he'll read/has read AMFMN are extremely low but not zero.

Which terrifies me. Especially given the fact that AMFMN has an animatic from @offscot now that's gonna be posted when I post Chapter 2 later today (I'm finishing it atm). Because THAT animatic is something he could totally see, especially if by some insane stroke of luck, it was featured on a QSMP Movie Night. We DO know he loves looking at animatics. If my friend has QSMP/Philza in the title of the animatic, it'll probably pop up when he searches for it.

[tgrailwar-zero]

*deep breaths* Alright, alright, this is a stupid risk considering we're letting you approach us with a scalpel and our history together, but we still need to try asking...

Is there a way to get into the depths of the Solar Cell and destroy what's lurking there WITHOUT destroying the whole place? We were sent here because whatever is in those depths is going to come out and destroy everything. Everything in the Solar Cell and Humanity included.

Our two choices are either: A) destroy the Solar Cell and save humanity, or B) let the Solar Cell be and let everyone on it AND humanity die anyway.

If there's a third solution where we don't need to do any of that, that you're privvy to, then we'd love to hear it. We're aware you're a Lair Servant so you'd probably know about it better than the Red or Blue Faction.

Our Servant can attest to this, we were SUPER annoying about it earlier during the fight with Lune. Isn't that right?

If you're not willing to talk about it then fine, we'll just do the check up and go.

"I don't believe you, and I'm only doing this check-up because I'm inclined to do so as a doctor. Now..."

It seems like the DOCTOR's opinion of you is… pretty negative. Wonder why.

You hear a voice in the back of your head...

A NARRATING VOICE: [ "Yikes, this is hard to watch. There's a way to shmooze Servants, you know. You're somehow both way too loose, and way too tight. Play it like an erotic dating sim with far too many routes, and also none of the erotic parts, especially if you want him to join your side. Since you all have the collective charisma of a dying moose and he's pricklier than the insects swarming in to devour said moose, maybe it'll be easier if we make this into a click button minigame? Just lemme mess with your UI a bit..." ]

After a long pause, you looked at the DOCTOR again. There was no way this was going to last, but it did seem to ease the tensions a bit.

"…I feel like something really stupid is happening."

"You're getting that feeling too?"

A NARRATING VOICE: [ "There we go. Don't say I've never done anything for ya. Now, as he's doing his little check up, you pick one of these ready-made options, and you'll be golden if you pick the right one! If you don't. Well... at least I can say I tried. Okay, bye, don't try to follow up on this- I WILL NOT respond. Seeya!" ]

[queen-scribbles]

For the Intimacy Prompts! 27 for your choice! 😁

Some Ardrali for you <3 [27. Hug from behind] ----

Endrali's resolution to tone down on tracking people through the Force was being severely tested after she checked the third of the usual places with no sign of Arcann. She restrained herself because it wasn't like this was an emergency, it was just weird. Arcann tended to stick to certain areas of the base and she knew them all and--

There. Even with her awareness curtailed close, she could pick up the pulse of his presence in the Force. The next hallway over, one of the smaller observation decks.

What's he doing there....? She shook her head. No point wondering, she could just ask him.

He was alone, standing at the far edge of the deck, leaning against the rail to look over the canopy of trees stretching near-unbroken to the horizons below. "There you are," he said without turning around.

"Me?" Endrali laughed, crossing the deck to hug him. "I've been looking for you."

A rumbling chuckle chased Arcann's shiver at the warmth of her pressed to his back. "And it only took slightly longer than expected for you to find me."

"How long have you been out here?" She could feel the morning chill seeped into his shirt, and it made her grip around his waist tighten, pressing herself closer. "And why?"

"A couple hours." Arcann moved his hand from the rail to cover hers. The skin was so chill Endrali immediately folded his hand between hers to warm it, prompting another chuckle as he answered the second part. "I thought to have a change of scene for meditating."

She gave a faux-offended gasp. "Without me?"

"You were sleeping." He paused. "Or so I assumed. Chances for that are rare; I did not wish to disturb you."

It had been nice to sleep in, even a little bit. She couldn't remember the last time she had the opportunity. "I was, and thank you." She kissed the center off his back, grinned at the shiver that had nothing to do with their contrasting body temperatures. "And this seems to have worked well for you."

There was a sense of peace to him that, while becoming more frequent, was still too often absent in her opinion. She was glad he'd managed to find it today.

"Mm," Arcann hummed. His hand flexed in her grasp as if to curl around the one under it.

"What made you pick here?" Endrali asked idly. "Why the change from our regular spot?"

"Not many come here, it seemed a good choice for solitude. And..." he hesitated, releasing the rail and turning to face her. "I tried the clearing, but it felt... odd without you."

She cocked her head. "Honestly, I'd probably say the same." She giggled. "Funny how fast we adjust to new routines, isn't it? To people being there."

He nodded, studying her face. "Endrali, I..." A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Even with some time, it's still hard to believe it isn't a dream that you... care for me."

"That I love you, you mean?" Endrali grinned at the flush that crept up his neck. She moved her hands to rest on his chest. "It's only been a week, Arcann. Give it more time, it'll sink in." Her fingers curled in his shirt and arched a brow playfully. "And I'm always happy to reassure you, if you need it."

A wry smile curved his lips. "I've no doubt you are," he murmured. He raised his hand to cup her cheek, fingers now warm as he traced her scar. "You are better than I deserve..."

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that," she said softly, and used her grip on his shirt for balance as she pushed up on her toes to kiss him. At least until I talk you around...

Arcann leaned into it, letting her settle back flat-footed. His left hand pressed the small of her back, cool metal sinking through her shirt as they parted with matching gasps.

"Did you have need of me?" he asked, a tremor in the quiet words as they whisked warm across her skin. There was a pulse of satisfaction from him when she didn't find her voice immediately. "You said you were looking for me. Was that for a purpose beyond saying good morning?"

"Oh. Right. Yes." Endrali cleared her throat. You sure don't kiss like someone who thinks he doesn't deserve me. "There's something I need to look into. Should be able to handle it diplomatically, but just in case I can't, I wanted you along for backup."

"Of course," Arcann nodded. He disengaged from their close proximity with plain reluctance. "Allow me to get my things and I shall join you. Is this...?"

"It doesn't seem connected with the other unrest, no." Endrali shook her head. "But you never know."

He inclined his head, catching her hand to kiss the palm before departing.

She let herself follow the sense of him longer than she normally would, enjoying the feel of him... content, if not happy.

She looked forward to the day that wasn't unusual.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Dearest Ange,

The penultimate episode is upon is. And maybe I was delusional in believing something great was coming when I saw people from SDCC saying it was really good, the best, better than Rook's Rest. I don't know how divisive this opinion of mine will be, but- it was not. Not close. I usually try to start our little tradition by putting some positives first and to be honest, I find it really difficult to do this time around because of the staggering way this episode was split- I can count the team green scenes on one hand, and that annoys me to no end- so I'll try and do it at the end. And the thing is, I'm not a book purist in the slightest. I believe that when changes are made, once they're for the better, then I'm for it, once the essence, themes, and overarching messages are still there. And yes, I'm aware that Fire and Blood is written as an unreliable historical account. But to me, the entire Dance of the Dragons, among many things, is about how regardless of who you think is the rightful heir to the throne, Rhaenyra or Aegon, is that both these factions commit atrocious acts in times of war, most of these characters are not cartoonish villains, or a faultless hero, a superman or sorts. They are ambitious, prejudiced, and many of them are uncaring of how the war impacts the smallfolk, because their emotions and ambitions drive them.

Their faults and complexities make them as likeable or as unlikeable. Aemond's cruelty makes him unlikeable to some, but then that unwavering love and loyalty to his family, that makes us like him. Rhaenyra loves her children, her family, and when Lucerys dies, she lets go of reason and becomes "Maegor with Teats"- and people would root for her. Yet she's also as entitled, and prejudiced as the rest of the nobles- this makes her a unlikeable. These are just two examples, yet their show translations seeks to amplify the villainous traits of Aemond, and downplay Rhaenyra's faults, because she serves the 'higher purpose' of the Conqueror's dream. We only get shrivels of Aemond's complexity because of Ewan's stellar acting, and Emma, despite having any complexity of her character stripped away to be the pinnacle of moral greatness in the show, does well with what she's given, too.

And I know that these are thing's we've hashed over and over, and I had put them aside but this episode just....bored me. The entire dragonseed plot, while yes, is a book event, does take place, was just boring to me. Was it cool to see more dragons? Yes. Was I on my phone more times than I'll admit during the episode? Yes.

And I wanted to like it, I did, even though much of me is watching for love of the actors- some of which I hardly see. I remember during the episode I kept tapping the screen to see how much time had passed so many times, because I was like okay? We've been at Dragonstone for like forever? Show me Aemond at his council, more of him interacting with Helaena and her daughter, or Alicent, or Aegon, or even him alone, anything. Sorry if my little review felt overly negative this week, Ange. Here are my positives:

Aemond on a horse- it made me giggle idk why

Vermithor and Silverwing, even though I always pictured Silverwing as more shimmery

Alys, even though she's not in this episode

Gwayne, even though he's not in this episode

Aemond on a horse....again

Helaena and Aemond in the preview (We both know it'll probably be just a tease to nothing, like the last time, but I like to delude myself it seems)

One more to go, Ange, and though I'm disappointed, I do like sending my little post-show asks. Interacting in fandom has hurt me in the past, but our little thing's making me come out of my shell more and more.

-🦋 anon

Oh, and I hope Ryan Condal sleeps with both sides of his pillow humid, hot and miserable, like he's made me watching this season.

I am so glad these exchanges are helping you to come out of your shell, and I am beyond flattered that I am able to provide a space in which you feel comfortable doing so! I hope you continue to once this season finishes - honestly, once the season ends is when the fun stuff happens. People's brains switch from taking in and processing every episode, to creating for what they have seen, and I think we have been given a bucketload to work with this season. I'm excited to see what people are inspired to create, as well as getting stuck in myself.

Onto my episode thoughts!

What on earth was the point of Alicent's depression camping trip? Visually stunning, but utterly meaningless to the plot. Yes, she's fallen out with Aemond, but Aegon and Helaena both need her and she's fucked off to skinny dip and sulk in the woods. UGH.

I do not understand the timeline we are working with at all here - last episode, Aegon resembled a half cooked pizza, his leg was still broken. Now Orwyle has him up and about, and attempting to walk? His burns look healed? WHAT???

That scene of Jasper telling Larys about Seasmoke was utterly pointless and I'm angry that it was laid over the top of one of the only Aemond scenes we were given this entire episode.

No Helaena. Otto isn't back in King's Landing yet. Why are they hiding the Greens from us?!

I thought Rhaena would claim Sheepstealer this episode. I would like to see more of her tracking him. I feel like when she actually does get him to bend his neck to her, it's going to feel rushed. This is something they could have spread out over a few episodes, and I wouldn't have minded.

I loved seeing so much more of the dragons this episode. They all have such interesting designs. I think I find Syrax the most aesthetically pleasing, because she looks like a Boglin and it's cute.

In this episode I do feel we got a glimmer of Rhaenyra being as cruel and callous as Team Green have been portrayed to be - simply shutting all of those people in with Vermithor, knowing they would likely die, and having given them no instructions for how to actually lay claim to a dragon is wildly irresponsible, and she didn't seem at all perturbed by the fact that he was burning and eating them all alive. Unfortunately, to mainstream viewers that will be perceived as something to be revered than to be critical of though.

I'm glad that Daemon's storyline has been pushed along, now that he has the fealty of the River Lords, despite the fact they all fucking hate him lmao fingers crossed that that is the last of the hallucinations.

I very much enjoyed Aemond's two thirds of a Valyrian triathlon - the horse, and then dragonback. His physicality is so interesting to watch, and it was cool to see him panic at the sight of all of the dragons on Dragonstone.

This episode was hit and miss for me, and I cannot help but wonder what sort of a cliff hanger they are gonna end season two on! There's going to be a death, I can sense it...