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the-reader-insert-gazette · 5 months ago

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Through Time and Together - F!Reader x Caelus

Honkai Star Rail

Caught in a relentless time loop aboard the Astral Express, Reader must relive the same day over and over, with her only hope of escape tied to confessing her feelings for Caelus.

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[Name] had been through enough anomalies in her life, but this—this was something new. She awoke on the Astral Express, the soft hum of the train and the faint scent of brewing coffee signaling the start of another day. Except, it wasn’t just another day. It was the same day. Again.

She groaned, sitting up in her cabin and rubbing her temples. The first time she’d noticed the repetition, it had been mildly frustrating. By the tenth loop, it had become maddening. No matter what she did, the day always ended with her standing on the observation deck, watching Caelus disappear into a shimmer of light after a particularly heart-pounding confession… that she never managed to return before the loop reset.

Her goal was simple: break the loop. The problem? She had no idea how to do it.

Loop 11 started the same way: Pom-Pom knocking on her door with their usual chirpy, "Good morning, [Name]!" She groaned inwardly but forced a polite smile, knowing it was pointless to argue with the adorably stubborn conductor.

As she wandered to the dining car for breakfast, she caught sight of Caelus sitting alone, his usual air of quiet determination making her stomach twist. Somehow, this loop always revolved around him. Maybe the universe had a sick sense of humor.

“Morning,” he said, glancing up at her with a small smile. “You’re up earlier than usual.”

She slid into the seat across from him, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Yeah, just… couldn’t sleep.”

“Something on your mind?” he asked, his tone genuinely curious.

[Name] hesitated. She could tell him the truth, but the last few loops had taught her that being blunt only led to confusion—or worse, dismissal. Instead, she tried a different approach. “Just a weird feeling. Like… déjà vu.”

He raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, March bounded into the car, her usual enthusiasm cutting through the tension. “There you are! We’ve got an adventure today, remember?”

Ah, yes. The mission. It always played out the same way: the crew traveled to an abandoned planet, stumbled upon an anomaly, and nearly got themselves killed before Caelus made some grand, self-sacrificial gesture that left her reeling. And then… the loop reset.

This time, [Name] decided to mix things up. Instead of following the usual plan, she stuck close to Caelus, subtly altering the timeline. She made sure they didn’t split up during the exploration of the ruins, intervened when Dan Heng’s equipment malfunctioned, and even convinced March to let her take the lead when they encountered the anomaly.

But as the day unfolded, she realized the core problem wasn’t the mission—it was her inability to confront her feelings. Every time she tried to speak to Caelus, the words caught in her throat. She’d defused bombs, analyzed ancient artifacts, and outsmarted interstellar criminals, yet telling someone how she felt seemed impossible.

By Loop 23, [Name] was losing patience. She stormed into the ruins ahead of the others, determined to get answers from the anomaly itself. Caelus caught up to her, his brows furrowed in concern.

“[Name], what’s going on? You’ve been acting strange all day.”

She turned to him, frustration bubbling over. “What’s going on? I’m stuck, Caelus. I’m stuck in this stupid time loop, reliving the same day over and over again, and it’s your fault.”

He blinked, taken aback. “My fault?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “Every time, it’s you—your sacrifice, your stupid heroic nonsense, and I’m left standing there, unable to stop you or tell you—” She froze, the words catching in her throat.

“Tell me what?” he asked softly, stepping closer.

Her frustration melted into exasperation. “That I—” She bit her lip. This wasn’t how she wanted to say it, but there was no backing out now. “That I care about you, okay? That I can’t stand watching you leave. And if this loop keeps resetting until I figure this out, then fine—I care.”

Caelus stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a horrible moment, she thought she’d miscalculated. But then, he smiled—a warm, genuine smile that made her chest ache.

“You could’ve said something sooner,” he said lightly, his voice tinged with amusement.

She gawked at him. “What?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel for weeks,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But every time I tried, you’d get this look like you were ready to bolt. So I backed off.”

[Name] blinked. “You… you feel the same way?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone soft. “But I wasn’t about to pressure you. Figured you’d come around eventually.”

Her cheeks burned, but before she could respond, the anomaly flared to life, bathing them in a golden light. The ruins trembled, and for a terrifying second, she thought the loop was resetting again. But then the light faded, leaving them standing in silence.

“Did we just… break the loop?” she asked, glancing around.

Caelus smirked. “Looks like it.”

Relief and exhaustion washed over her, and she laughed—a genuine, cathartic laugh that eased the tension in her chest. “Finally.”

He reached for her hand, his touch grounding. “So… where do we go from here?”

She squeezed his hand, her smile softening. “Anywhere but back.”

And for the first time in weeks, the day moved forward.

-----

The following morning on the Astral Express felt… different. [Name] woke up with a sense of lightness she hadn’t felt in weeks—or rather, in loops. The day wasn’t resetting, and she could finally move forward. As she stretched and got ready, a small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered the previous night.

Caelus had held her hand the entire walk back to the Express, his warmth a quiet reassurance. They’d talked late into the night, sharing stories and laughter, and for the first time, she allowed herself to let her guard down completely with him.

By the time [Name] made her way to the dining car, she spotted Caelus already seated, casually sipping his coffee. His silver hair was still slightly tousled from sleep, and the sight made her heart do a little flip.

“Morning,” he said, his voice warm as she slid into the seat across from him.

“Morning,” she replied, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Their usual banter was still there, but there was something undeniably different in the way he leaned toward her, the way her gaze lingered on him. It wasn’t long before the change caught the attention of the others.

March, balancing a tray of pancakes, stopped mid-step. Her eyes widened, and a grin slowly spread across her face as she noticed how close they were sitting. “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, plunking her tray down at their table. “Did I miss something? Are you two…?”

[Name] glanced at Caelus, whose calm demeanor didn’t falter in the slightest. He simply shrugged and gave March a knowing smile. “What do you think?” he asked, his tone teasing.

March gasped dramatically, looking between them. “Oh my Aeons, you are! You’re together! This is the best thing that’s happened all week.”

[Name] rolled her eyes, though the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “March, calm down.”

“Calm down?!” March practically vibrated with excitement. “This is huge! Dan Heng! Get in here—you’re not going to believe this!”

“Believe what?” Dan Heng’s voice came from the doorway. He stepped in, his calm expression shifting to mild curiosity as he approached. “What’s going on?”

March pointed at [Name] and Caelus like she’d just uncovered the galaxy’s biggest secret. “They’re dating!”

Dan Heng raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between the two. “Dating?” He studied their expressions, then gave a small nod. “Makes sense.”

March’s jaw dropped. “Makes sense? That’s all you have to say?”

Dan Heng shrugged, his tone matter-of-fact. “They’ve had chemistry for a while. It was only a matter of time.”

[Name] groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Can we not make this a spectacle?”

“But it is a spectacle!” March insisted, clasping her hands together. “You two are, like, the perfect couple. How did it even happen? Was it a grand confession? Did someone almost die? Wait, don’t tell me—was there a kiss in the rain?”

Caelus chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Something like that.”

“Oh, come on!” March pouted. “You’re holding out on me.”

“Let them have their privacy,” Dan Heng interjected, though there was a faint hint of a smirk on his face. “Not everyone wants their life narrated like one of your dramas.”

March sighed dramatically but relented. “Fine, fine. But I expect details eventually.”

Throughout the day, the shift in [Name] and Caelus’s relationship became more apparent. They moved as a seamless unit, their usual bickering now tinged with playfulness. During their next mission briefing, [Name] leaned slightly into Caelus’s side without realizing it, and he absently rested his hand on the back of her chair.

March kept nudging Dan Heng with exaggerated winks, while Dan Heng, ever composed, simply raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment.

It wasn’t until later that evening, when the crew gathered in the parlor car for a game of cards, that March couldn’t resist teasing them again.

“You know,” she said, shuffling the deck, “it’s so nice to see you both smiling so much. Love really does change people.”

[Name] narrowed her eyes, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her. “March, if you keep this up, you’re going to regret it.”

“Regret what? Supporting my favorite new couple?” March grinned, clearly enjoying herself.

Caelus leaned back in his chair, utterly unbothered. “She’s just jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what?” March huffed.

“That she doesn’t have someone to share her pancakes with,” Caelus quipped, his tone deadpan.

The table erupted in laughter, including Dan Heng, who rarely showed such open amusement. March crossed her arms, pretending to sulk, but her smile betrayed her.

-----

That evening on the Astral Express had settled into a comfortable rhythm, the crew’s laughter and the shuffle of cards filled the car. [Name] leaned back in her chair, watching Caelus bluff his way into another win, his smirk betraying his feigned confidence. She was mid-eye roll when the door opened, revealing Welt and Himiko entering with their usual composed demeanor. Pom-Pom followed close behind, their small frame practically radiating curiosity.

Himiko glanced at the table, her sharp eyes immediately catching the relaxed closeness between [Name] and Caelus. “What’s this?” she asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Seems like we’ve walked in on something interesting.”

Pom-Pom tilted their head, their antennae twitching. “Ooooh, are we playing cards? Can I join?”

March was the first to answer, her grin lighting up the room. “Oh, Pom-Pom, you can definitely join, but first—you missed the big news!” She turned to Himiko and Welt, clearly relishing the moment. “[Name] and Caelus are a thing now!”

[Name] groaned, slumping forward onto the table. “March. Please.”

Himiko arched an elegant eyebrow, her lips curving into an amused smirk. “A thing, you say? That’s quite the development.”

Welt stepped closer, adjusting his glasses as he observed the group. His gaze lingered on Caelus, who, to [Name]'s surprise, looked entirely unfazed by the sudden scrutiny. “Interesting,” Welt said thoughtfully. “Though, I can’t say I’m entirely surprised.”

“Not you too,” [Name] muttered, peeking up from behind her hands.

Pom-Pom hopped up onto an empty chair, their voice full of excitement. “Wait, wait! Does this mean you’re boyfriend and girlfriend now? Like, officially?”

Caelus chuckled, his tone teasing as he replied, “Well, I did think saving each other from time anomalies was a pretty good start.”

[Name] shot him a glare, though the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Only because your reaction is so adorable,” he quipped, leaning back in his chair with a grin that made her want to simultaneously roll her eyes and smile.

Himiko let out a low laugh, taking a seat across from them. “I have to say, this is a side of you I don’t often see, [Name]. It’s nice.”

[Name] straightened, determined to regain some semblance of composure. “It’s not that big a deal,” she insisted, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.

“It’s a huge deal,” March chimed in, shuffling the cards with theatrical flair. “You two have been dancing around each other forever. I’m just glad the universe finally pushed you together.”

“Pushed might be putting it lightly,” [Name] muttered under her breath, though she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

Welt’s expression softened as he regarded the pair. “Sometimes the universe has a way of aligning things when we least expect it. And from what I’ve seen, you complement each other well.”

“Wow,” Caelus said, his grin widening. “That almost sounds like a blessing.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Welt replied dryly, though his eyes glimmered with quiet amusement.

Pom-Pom, still buzzing with energy, clapped their tiny hands together. “So, are we celebrating? This feels like a reason to celebrate!”

“We’re already celebrating,” March declared, dealing out the cards with enthusiasm. “The best way we know how—with cards, competition, and shameless teasing.”

Himiko leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think I’ll join in. Watching [Name] try to keep her cool sounds like too much fun to pass up.”

[Name] groaned again, but this time it was accompanied by a laugh. She met Caelus’s gaze across the table, his eyes warm and steady, and she realized she didn’t mind the teasing as much as she thought she would. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

[Name] shook her head, muttering something under her breath about the Express turning into a soap opera, but the faint smile on her lips betrayed her. Caelus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as March dealt the next hand.

“Alright, everyone’s in,” March announced, her grin practically sparkling with mischief. “Pom-Pom, Himiko, Welt—prepare to lose. And [Name], try not to let Caelus distract you too much.”

“I will end you,” [Name] shot back, narrowing her eyes at March. Her tone was dry, but there was a playful edge to it.

“I’m just saying,” March teased, “you’ve got that dreamy look in your eyes, and it’s not gonna help your poker face.”

[Name] opened her mouth to retort, but Caelus cut in, smirking. “She always has a dreamy look when I’m around.”

The table erupted into laughter. Even Dan Heng let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he observed the chaos unfolding. Himiko leaned back, clearly enjoying herself, while Welt’s small smile suggested he was filing away this interaction for future amusement.

“Pom-Pom!” March called, waving at the conductor. “What do you think of our new power couple?”

Pom-Pom tilted their head, tapping a paw against their chin. “Hmm, I think it’s nice! But as the conductor, I must say, any excessive PDA on the Express could be a distraction.”

[Name] groaned, her head dropping into her hands. “I can’t believe I’m getting a lecture on professionalism from Pom-Pom.”

“It’s an important part of running a ship!” Pom-Pom replied with a sage nod. “But, um, I guess a little hand-holding is okay.”

“Good to know we have your approval,” Caelus said smoothly, reaching over to take [Name]'s hand in his. She glared at him, but the faint blush on her cheeks gave her away.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered.

“And yet you like me anyway,” he quipped, his grin downright cheeky.

March clapped her hands together. “Okay, okay, back to the game before this turns into a romance novel. Welt, your turn!”

The game resumed with its usual blend of banter and competition, though it was impossible to ignore the way [Name] and Caelus occasionally glanced at each other, their expressions softer than before. Even when the teasing quieted down, the shift in their dynamic was undeniable, radiating through the room like a subtle, comforting warmth.

Himiko leaned toward Welt as the game progressed, her voice low but audible enough to [Name]. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day. [Name], of all people, finally letting someone in.”

Welt nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a good thing. She’s always been so self-reliant, but even she needs someone she can trust completely.”

[Name], overhearing them, shot them a look. “I can hear you, you know.”

Himiko didn’t even blink. “Good. You should hear it. We’re proud of you.”

The sincerity in her voice caught [Name] off guard, and for a moment, her usual wit failed her. She glanced at Caelus, who gave her hand a reassuring squeeze under the table. His silent support steadied her in a way she wasn’t used to—but found herself welcoming.

Later that night, as the others drifted off to their own routines, [Name] and Caelus found themselves alone on the observation deck. The stars stretched out endlessly before them, their light dancing across the dark expanse of space.

“So,” Caelus said, breaking the comfortable silence, “how does it feel to be the center of everyone’s attention?”

“Exhausting,” [Name] replied, leaning against the railing. “But… not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “I think you handled it pretty well.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who made it bearable,” she admitted, her voice softer than usual. “I don’t know how you stay so calm with everyone poking at you.”

“Years of practice,” he said, his tone light. Then, more seriously, “But it’s easier when I’m with you.”

[Name] turned to him, her usual sharpness tempered by something gentler. “You’re good at this, you know.”

“At what?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Making me feel… okay. Even when everything feels like it’s spinning out of control.”

He smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “That’s the thing about us, [Name]. We make each other okay.”

Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let herself lean into the moment, into him. And as the stars shimmered around them, she realized that, for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

~Fin~

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Yup, double-protag posts. Happy Thanksgiving to my US readers!

#hsr #honkai star rail #caelus #caelus x reader #reader x caelus

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morganski-19 · 7 months ago

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Chills Right to the Marrow Part 40

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 37, part 38, part 39

Steve’s not at work today. Dustin went to Family Video to see if there was anything new, the rest of his friends at the arcade down the block. But Steve isn’t here. Robin is, but he isn’t.

“Where’s Steve,” he asks. Urgency in his voice.

“Called out today, something came up.” There’s only confusion in Robin’s voice. Like Steve not being here is something normal. “Why?”

“Is he ok?”

Steve doesn’t call out for no reason. Dustin’s seen him be here slipping pain killers under his sleeve while he has a migraine. Turn the lights off in between customers and close the blinds. But he was still here.

It’s only been three weeks since “the big one.” Another one couldn’t have happened this soon. Nancy would have told him if he had one. She promised him that she would. Unless she doesn’t know about it either.

How much does Steve hide things when it goes wrong? How many layers does Dustin have to search just to find answers? How long will Steve have to be in pain for him to realize that it hurts other people too?

“Yeah, he’s fine. Like I said, something just came up.”

Dustin doesn’t believe him. Fine means nothing. Fine could mean blood draining out of his face and falling on the floor. Fine could mean trapped in bed because moving seems impossible. Could be stuck in a loop of panic that won’t stop, no matter how hard he tries.

Fine with Steve almost never means fine. Dustin knows that.

He turns on his heel and heads out of the store. He walks down the street to the arcade, to his bike that’s chained up outside.

The wind almost knocks his hat off, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care when his walkie crackles in his backpack. A faint voice asking where he went. It doesn’t matter right now.

All that matters is the spiral in his mind. The belief that if he can’t see it, then he can’t know it didn’t happen. Faces of death molding together into one. All warning him of what could happen. Of what did happen. Of what should have happened if the luck ran out.

A tear catches on his lip. The saltiness the only reason he knows that he’s crying. Vision blurring as Steve’s house comes into view. As he drops his bike onto the grass and struggles to find his key. Hand shaking so much, he has to steady it with his other just to get it in the lock.

“Steve,” he yells when the door opens. Running upstairs, not bothering with taking off his shoes. “Steve.”

His bedroom is empty. A made bed with nothing else. He isn’t here. He isn’t stuck there.

“Steve,” he calls out again. Hearing his voice bounce off the walls, echoing. Drawing out his cries for a seconds longer than it should. Emptiness surrounding him.

He runs back down the stairs, calling out again. Nothing again.

A list forms in his mind, and he checks it off. Steve’s car was in the driveway. His shoes are by the door. His keys are on the table. His bed it made. There are dishes in the drying rack.

He has to be fine. He has to be ok. He has to be.

“Dustin?”

There Steve was. The final check off his list. Standing straight, looking like he slept. Put together. Alive. He was alive.

Dustin crumbles. The panicked sob breaking out of his chest. Steve rushes forward. Holds Dustin upright as his knees start to bend. Push the hair out of his face and ask him if everything was alright. If he was hurt. What happened.

“You.” Dustin can’t voice himself properly right now. He means to say, you’re ok. Or maybe something else. Maybe place the blame on him for making Dustin like this. For making him come all this way.

He gets brought to the living room and forced to sit. Until the breath evens out, actually fills his lungs. Until the tears dry on his cheek. Until he’s calm again.

A cold glass gets pressed into his hands. He drinks the water. Returns to normal.

Steve is sitting next to him. Alive. Perfectly fine. Nothing is wrong.

“Your radio was going off like crazy,” Steve fills the silence. “I told them that you were alright, where you were. You scared the shit out of them.”

Bold words coming from him, Dustin would say. If he could. If his mouth would cooperate with him.

“Do you want to tell me why you biked here?”

Dustin takes a deep breath. Feels the stretch in his chest. The relief as he releases it slowly.

“Why weren’t you at work?”

“That’s what this is about?” Steve doesn’t mean for it to come out the way that it does. The apology of his face says that. “I called out. Eddie has his physical therapy appointment today and Wayne has to go to work right after. He can’t move that much after therapy, so I took off to help him.”

“Oh.”

It was so normal. It was so normal, and he blew it out of proportion. He just panicked. Saw something that wasn’t right and immediately went to the worst. Right back into that hospital room. To all those times before.

Steve turns to him. Face full of concern. Full of worry. “Dustin, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“No one tells me anything,” he exclaims. “I have to find out everything from someone else, or days, or weeks later. I never get told anything by the person themselves. I’m always the last to know.”

“Dustin-.”

“No. I’m tired of the excuses. I’m tired of you saying that it’s not my thing to worry about. Because I do. No matter how hard you think you shield me from it, I worry about it. Every day I wake up and wonder if your head is killing you. If when I see you later, you’re going be how you were before, or a ghost of yourself. If I’m going to look at you push yourself for my betterment. When I know that you’re in pain.”

Steve looks at him like he doesn’t know what to say. Even if he did, Dustin wouldn’t give him the chance to. He’s not done.

There’s so much he needed to say.

“You’re like a brother to me, Steve. You’re family. I don’t know why you think you can just get away with hiding this from me, but you can’t. Because I love you and all I’m asking is to know what is going on with you. Is that such a big thing to ask?”

Before Dustin can take a breath, Steve hugs him. Holds him close, sniffling. “I’m sorry.” He takes a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Sucks, right?”

Steve snorts. Pulling back. “I’ll be back in a second.”

He leaves the living room, going up stairs and returning with a small book. A planner. He hands it to Dustin, motions for him to flip through it. Its pages are filled with notes. Some days are blank, some are overflowing. There’s a mix of different hand writings.

“Every time I get a migraine, I write it down. The severity, if I had to take any pills. If I called out from work, if I went home early. On days when it gets really bad, Robin fills it in. She writes down what I eat and when. If I was nauseous, if I left my bed at all. Everything.”

Dustin lands on three weeks ago. To the day after Eddie came home. That day was marked at an eight. The next day a nine. The one after that, also a nine. Then an eight. Then it went down slowly over the next day.

“It started after Starcourt, when I got them more frequently. The doctor suggested I keep a journal for a few months, to make sure nothing else was going on. That it wasn’t getting worse. I’ve kept one ever since.”

“This,” he points at the date. “This was the big one?”

Steve nods. “It’s the most painful, lasts a few days. I get then about once a month. They average at three days, building in the days before and then being really bad, before going down again. The bad days is what we dub ‘the big one.’ I don’t really count the build up to it, because it’s normal. Until it isn’t.”

None of this was normal. To most people, this wasn’t normal. But it was to Steve. He walked through life like this. Where he can’t go a week without a migraine. Or even just a small headache. This was his normal.

“I can’t promise I’ll always tell you when they happen. When it gets bad, I can barely open my eyes, let alone want to speak. But, if you really want to know, I keep this on my desk. You can look at it anytime.”

It’s everything he wanted, right here in his hands. Worse than he was thinking, but he knows.

“Thank you.”

Steve nods. “I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you. I really didn’t want you to worry about it. And I didn’t know how much it was affecting you. I would have told you if I knew sooner.”

The front door opens, Wayne calling out that they were back. There’s shuffling in the hallway. A muffled argument. A slammed door.

Steve sighs. “Give me a minute. Then I can drive you home, ok.”

Dustin nods. Closing the book and running his fingers around the corners. They were all going to be ok, he tells himself. They were all going to be ok.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

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@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

#chills right to the marrow fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #dustin henderson #dustin pov #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson needs a hug #he's been going through so much #pre steddie

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livesworthlivingau · 7 months ago

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Behind the Vale Chapter 31

ISAT/Two Hats Spoilers below! CW: Mentions of brutal death, Lots and lots of crying (both the characters and the writer as well)

"This traveler had been alone for a very long time. They had lost their family, their home, even their own name." [You continue to stare towards the floor. You won't dare make eye contact with any of them. You feel Stardust hook their arm into yours, likely in a show of solidarity.]

"Then they finally found friends, and it was the happiest they'd ever been... so happy in fact, that they made a wish. They wished that it wouldn't have to end, they wished to stay with their friends... Ironically, that very wish is how they'd end up losing every one of them..." [You feel a strain in your throat, desperately trying not to break down as your story just began. Nille grips your hand tighter. You take another deep breath, shaky as it may be.]

"They found themself trapped, stuck in time and forced to fight a hopeless battle... forced to watch their friends slain mercilessly by the King... dozens, hundreds, thousands of times... more than they could count.... It seemed hopeless, impossible. Until one loop, they finally did it. They finally defeated the king..." [You can't hold it back anymore, your throat straining to speak, tears rolling down your face.]

"When it all finally seemed over... they suddenly woke up in that same damned field where it all started... This broke them. They couldn't take it anymore. So they made a second wish, they wished for it to be over. They wished for someone, anyone to help them. They begged the universe for help, and they were answered with a star."

"So they ate it... and it destroyed them, turning them into a star themself... It's fitting really, they were already destroyed on the inside, why not lose their husk of a body as well~?" [You let out a manic little laugh, more tears flowing down your face. Stardust hugs you on your side suddenly, wrapping his arms tightly around you.]

"It's okay... take all the time you need." [You start to wipe your tears, still not daring look towards the others. You're just thankful they haven't tried to interrupt at all. You take a minute to regain your composure, then continue again.]

"So they were sent the help they asked for, by becoming it themself... or maybe there simply wasn't enough left of them to be helped... So now they were stuck guiding a copy of themself through the very thing that broke them. Forced to watch as their friends... their family... were taken by somebody else. Forced to watch as they got your happy ending, the one you fought so hard for-" [You can't conjure any more words, just sobbing leaves your throat now. You bring a hand over your face, trying to keep what little dignity you could as you break down in front of them all.]

"Vale..." [You hear the fighter's strained voice above you, shadowed by his large figure. You look up at him in surprise, not having realized he was suddenly in front of you. Tears rolled down his face as he yanked you into a tight hug.]

"I'm so sorry we couldn't help you..." [You struggle weakly in his grasp. You want to shout, you want to get him off of you, you want to break free of his burning touch. Yet you can manage no words in this moment as you just sob heavily. You soon feel Nille and Stardust join in on the hug, crying harder as you give up your struggles. You even feel the Housemaiden join in after a moment. The burning slowly fades into light warmth... They may not be your real family, but this is the closest you'd ever get to them, and right now you're far too weak to fight that. You even feel the Researcher's hand on your shoulder not long after...]

[Once the hug breaks it simultaneously feels like it was an eternity, and only a short moment that you'd beg to keep going. The Fighter clears his throat after crying so much.]

"Okay! We should all probably get some rest and process all of this... You're welcome to stay here, Vale." [He offers with a light smile through his sad expression.]

"Th-Thank you..." [You barely manage to choke out even those two words. Nille still hasn't let go of your hand this whole time, squeezing it comfortingly again.]

"Do you want some company tonight? Or do you need some time alone?" [You shake your head lightly, trying to force a little smile as you continue to only manage a word or two at a time.]

"Go."

"Okay, if you're sure. Just come knocking if you need me, alright?" [You nod to her, everyone slowly leaving the room to head to their beds for the night. Stardust tells the Fighter they'll be a second as they remain behind. They wait until everyone was gone to speak.]

"... Did you really watch the King kill everyone?... Every time?" [You wince at the question, and hesitantly give a nod in response. Stardust practically tackles you with another tight hug.]

"Thank you... for sticking around, Vale... it really means a lot to me." [You slowly wrap your arms back around them to return the hug. You let them remain this way as long as they like... You even consider pulling them back in when they finally let go.]

"Get some rest, you probably need it after all that... Good night, Vale." [You watch them head upstairs, finally leaving you all alone. You lie down on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. You wait for sleep to claim you, though it never quite seems to reach you.]

-----------------------------------------

[You're not sure how much time has passed, but you're snapped out of your sleepless daze when you hear someone coming down the stairs. You peek over the couch to spot Flare descending them. You doubt they'd want to see you after your last interaction, so you quickly lay back down, closing your eyes and pretending to be asleep.]

[You hear them stomp past you towards the kitchen, dragging a chair somewhere, opening a cabinet, then closing it and dragging the chair once more... They stomp closer over to you and stop.]

"... Hey..." [You blink your eyes open, finding them standing in front of you, holding a bowl filled with something... it smells delicious whatever it is. They hold it out to you, looking away all the while. You slowly sit up and take it from them, curiously looking at it to find a plate of... malanga fritters...]

"I made these for Frin... I heard what you told everyone, so I thought you might need them more..." [They say with a bit of a pout, their arms crossed and still avoiding looking at you.]

"I... Flare... Thank you..." [You're certain the only reason you haven't started crying again is because you've already dehydrated yourself from it all earlier.]

"I'm still mad at you for hurting Frin!... S-So don't think you're just forgiven!" [They shout softly as to avoid waking anyone up.]

"O-of course... I don't blame you..."

"Well good!... Stupidvale..." [They mumble before starting to stomp back up the stairs. You can't help but chuckle a little at their reaction.]

[You pick up a fritter and take a bite... and a tear flows down your face again.]

#lwlau #lives worth living au #isat au #isat spoilers #isat fanfic #isat #in stars and time fanfic #two hat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #isat two hats #behind the vale #btvau

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modernsuperhero · 1 year ago

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Tbh as much as i love seablings i like the idea that lizzie's death has nothing to do with jimmy's curse more. Lizzie's death was her own. If we want to talk about jimmy's curse, instead of lizzie's tragedy, then let's talk about how it was broken on accident.

Consider this: every game has been the same except this one. Certain "curses" are attached to certain people - Jimmy the canary, Skizz the boogey, etc. But not this time - or, well.

Last game was the first time, according to martyn's canon, that two players were so damaged from the watchers' overfeeding on their significant traumas (pearl witnessing scott's suicide, cleo's own traumatic death) that the listeners were able to intervene and temporarily swap their souls out with, ofc, lizzie and gem, to give them reprieve to recover.

I like the perspective that instead of there being one death loop that restarts over and over, there are multiple happening all the time. They overlap. The watchers are of course constantly feeding - and perhaps this is why the members of each loop vary slightly over time. Adding ingredients, removing others, as time wears on. Lizzie was not actively in a loop during limited life - but that does not mean she hasn't been in death games in the meantime. Perhaps even gem has, too, though i believe possessing cleo was her first time.

Also last season, grian was yanked out of his body by the watchers, attempting to remove him from stunting the growth of their anguish farm (making it a game instead of a saw trap, as @stalarys so aptly put it). But he managed to keep his claws in the game, even going so far as to break beyond the literal borders of the game - "we're already dead," as he said, leading the nosy neighbors beyond the veil - because grian is nothing in any universe if not stubborn in the face of authority.

We know from last season that the games are already unstable. The listeners' influence is growing, and grian is proving to be more and more of a problem. (He definitely doesn't know about the listeners' existence, but he's likely unaware of how he may be helping them, and they him.)

Jimmy is not dead first. But he dies so soon after - the second body to fall.

The game, the watchers, the farm - it course corrects when things go wrong.

Grian, who has broken the rules this season not once but thrice - allowing an exception for scar to reroll, even allowing breaking of his own rule on helmets (for both scar and mumbo), and falsely rolling a success last session, is given a chaotic impossible task. (Grian tends to doom his allies - curse or simply bad choices, he is teamed with etho, and their rerolls are entwined. They seem personal, don't they? Etho ran from grian's wither once before. Grian died leading out a warden.) He succeeds, on one heart despite everything, only to be slain on top of the button itself.

He's stuck in spectator. Isn't that perfect? The game, HIS game, GLITCHED. His grip on his in-game body, the part of him he wedged into the mechanics of this death loop, slipped. He regained it, sure, but now he is forced to course correct: he comes back green when he should be yellow.

And grian has just seen the price of breaking too many rules. Jimmy's funeral was too soon. He switches back to yellow, rerolls for his deserved prizes at the cost of his own chances of victory.

(Because victory, while still a goal, is not the point. The point is to break the game.)

(Last season, tango watched one of his closest and most common allies sacrifice himself for his team. This season, he allies with him again. It's ironic that they're giving away their hearts to others - similar to giving away their time. Maybe skizz's death impacted tango too harshly. Maybe his pain fed a bit too much.)

(This is the first season since skizz, an angel, died so full of divine bloodlust that it manifested as the boogey curse, that he has been here and his curse has not. Two curses now, tentatively broken.)

(Martyn feeds the watchers more when he is an unguided hand, wandering and hurting, so ren has not been in this particular loop for a while now. He is available to replace tango, just for a bit, just like how gem and lizzie replaced cleo and pearl.)

Last season, the games finally started to break.

This season, we get to see the cracks.

(The watchers are more obvious this season. The keeper's symbol, grian's lack of achievement entering the end... They're grappling for control as it is slowly but surely dragged away from them.)

#secret life smp #secret life spoilers #jimmy solidarity #martyn inthelittlewood #grian #skizzleman #tangotek #renthedog #trafficblr #traffic life series #traffic life smp #third life smp #eyes and ears #<that's what martyn's canon is called right?#canary curse #watcher grian #anyway I'm having a BLAST #slsmp

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qin-qin16 · 8 months ago

Note

We need more Classic in this household and I'll help you with that.

How about this, just Sans being himself, punny and funny skeleton in reader's house but then they suddenly ask him to let them see his soul and touch it.

Getting his permission and they do just that, bcuz they are just being curious about how soul works while making sure not to make Sans uncomfortable.

Just fluff and mild suggestive to satisfied reader's curiosity. I'm counting on you with your beautiful writing 🤭

cw.: Classic Sans x Reader, Alphys is mentioned, fluff, bam! Kabedon scene, they're both a blushing mess...

note: I'm trying out a new type of writing, let's see how it goes. I'll make a part two of this! So let's say this is a prequel :D

In the past days, a recurring question haunted your thoughts from time to time: what would Sans's soul be like? Sure, in a way, you knew exactly what a monster's soul looked like; there were no mysteries! An upside-down heart with a pattern color.

Even though it was fascinating to imagine that monster souls might, though rarely, have a color other than white, it still remained an impossible theory — at least, that’s what Dr. Alphys told you when you pondered the differences between human and monster souls out loud.

You can still hear her stuttering in an endless loop, a never-ending monologue filled with technical terms and theories that she contradicted during the conversation (which you participated in only as a listener later). Unfortunately, you could barely remember half of the information she threw at you — if your memory serves you right, Alphys deliberately mixed the topic with some shoujo anime she was watching at the time. If that served as some kind of analogy, you don’t remember.

In any case, one of the few pieces of information Dr. Alphys shared that really stuck with you was that viewing someone else's soul is an extremely intimate act — on a level of interpersonal relationships that spans years or even decades, according to research conducted in the Underground.

Since then, you found yourself constantly watching Sans, following him around the rooms until he went to work or locked himself in his office — always using the same excuse of working from home, but you were beginning to suspect that he simply didn’t want to handle the paperwork outside the house.

He seemed to take pleasure in vanishing every time you gathered the courage to ask the long-awaited question—only to open your eyes and realize you were speaking to yourself. But this time, Sans wasn’t going to escape.

You had devised the perfect plan, and the moment to put it into action had arrived.

"Well, my break’s over; looks like I’ll have to work to the bone now. Heh." Sans remarked nonchalantly, shrugging as he made his way to his infamous hideout, the office (which had originally been a recreational area until Sans had slyly taken it over with his stacks of paper and dirty socks).

Time to put the first part of your plan into action.

Before Sans could even touch the doorknob, you rushed toward him — almost losing your balance as you had to sidestep his favorite pet rock.

Bam! The door slams shut with the palm of your hand, startling both you and the skeleton, who was still facing away with one hand on the doorknob. Without hesitation, you press your other hand against the door as well, pinning both of them against the wooden surface and effectively trapping Sans.

“Nah-uh!” you counter, watching him turn around with one bony eyebrow raised, looking more intrigued than surprised by your stance. “I know your meeting schedule for today, and you don’t have any meetings right now!” Your triumphant smile doesn’t escape Sans’s notice.

He chuckles before turning fully toward you, leaning his weight against the door. “Heh, looks like someone’s been watching too many anime.” He gives you a lazy wink, glancing at your arms pressing against the wall, one on each side of his head.

Even though he was the one cornered against the door, it was you who felt your own face burning, probably flushed after receiving such a rare wink from your boyfriend. Despite your composure slipping slightly, your hands stayed firmly pressed against the wall as your eyes roamed over Sans’s face — from his relaxed smile to the bright dots in his eyes.

“N-N-No, it’s not that, it’s just that—um…” You hadn’t expected to be this nervous when you came up with the plan, especially under Sans’s attentive gaze. “I-I…” You stammer once more before letting your eyes drop to the floor, focusing intently on it.

“C-Can I… see your soul? Please?” You never thought your voice could come out so softly, almost like a whisper meant to go unheard, timid and gentle.

You didn’t want to repeat the question, but after receiving no response—not even a half-hearted laugh — for a while, you glanced back up at his face, hoping to see his bony eyebrows furrowed in confusion or a hint of hesitation in his signature smile.

But all you see is a skull bathed in blue, with Sans’s eye sockets looking more widened than usual (was that even possible in a skeletal structure like his? Apparently, yes). As if mirroring him, your own eyes widen in surprise at seeing such an unusual expression on his typically relaxed face.

“What?” Unlike you, Sans spoke in a loud whisper. It seemed your question had completely unsettled him..

You inch closer to him, careful with your approach — as if you didn’t want to startle him further with your “unusual” actions. One of your hands glides down the door until it gently presses against Sans’s ketchup-stained shirt. Without realizing it, your face is now only inches from his, nearly brushing against him in a touchless caress.

“I want to see your soul…” you repeat, a bit louder this time, but still gentle and tinged with shyness. “I can show you mine first, if you’d like…” you add, gazing intently at the fuzzy lights within his eye sockets.

For a moment, you close your eyes, trying to muster the courage you had before. When you open them again, Sans is no longer in front of you — vanished like every other time you tried to ask that same question to him. All that’s left is the office door and the rapid thumping of your own heart.

Inevitably, you let out a long sigh, feeling the weight of defeat on your shoulders. You gently bump your head against the door, knowing that sooner or later, Sans would have to face you, and if he were a good boyfriend, he would answer your question with some decency.

This turned out worse than I thought, you think aloud as you step away from the door and return to the old sofa in your home — your solace after the failure of your meticulously planned (or at least, in your mind, meticulously planned) scheme.

#sans x reader #sans x yn #sans x you #undertale #sans #i love him #sans undertale #qinqin stuff 💖

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clubdionysus · 11 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #36] DENIAL

warnings: drinking, star lovers (the drink), star lovers (the people), v wholesome! v lovely! loverboy jjk, the bday chapter

a/n: just one tonight 'cause im a bit pressed for time :( I'll upload some extra ones tomorrow hehe

wc: 9k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Stay," Jeongguk lazily whines into his pillows, hair a tousled mess, skin clammy and glowing in the dusky haze of an early spring morning.

Light pours in through his unclosed curtains, the city intruding on your peaceful state of slumber, stealing you from the sanctuary of shared dreams. His arm is looped around your waist, your back to his chest.

He's keeping you close. Doesn't wanna do anything, just doesn't wanna be alone. More specifically, he doesn't want to be without you.

Is paralysed by a new fear, it would seem; one in which you leave.

He wants to keep moments like these bottled up. Safe. Unbreakable.

An empty bed is really nothing to fear, but he's had a taste now of you with someone else. Has seen you with another man. Has met your ex. The guy you once thought was your forever .

Jeongguk isn't sure that he's capable of thinking that far ahead, but he has watched The Notebook upwards of a hundred times with Jimin. When he thinks of Noah, he thinks of Allie, and when he thinks of Allie, he thinks of you.

See, Jeongguk is more than capable of thinking that far ahead.

It's just that he was trained by the girl who used to hold his heart that forever was a silly concept. It's a slow process, but gradually, he is unlearning it. He didn't ever get his heart back from her; instead a new one bloomed in his chest where the empty space once was. It's armoured, this time. Little squares of silver glass act as a protective casing.

If it were ever to break, the pain would be catastrophic. He might just die.

And so Jeongguk would like you to stay.

As much as you'd like to, you know you can't - Danbi and Hoseok have pre-booked you in for a 'friend date.' Under absolutely no circumstances are you allowed to bail on it, even if it does mean leaving an incredibly sulky Jeongguk to survive his hangover alone.

You're not sure at which point last night you both decided that sex wasn't on the agenda. It was never discussed. Just never happened.

Instead, Jeongguk had kissed you.

Again, and again.

Until your lips were numb, and yet you could feel every deliberate coming together of your bodies. Soft declarations of affection, reserved only for the gentlest forms of love. Something of which you know better than pretend you could have with him.

It's well established, now, that Jeongguk is simply breaking down your intimacy boundaries. Is showing you that you can do all these things you deem to be intimate, without them actually having to mean what you think they do.

In theory, it's working. Kissing Jeongguk doesn't scare you.

In practice, Kissing Jeongguk does terrify you.

Not for the act itself. You do that willingly. Wantingly.

But for the fact that you're unable to think straight when you look at him, these days. It's not working. You can't separate the intimacy from the act, but you're so far gone now that it's almost impossible to go back, so instead you're stuck in this limbo.

You never want anything to change, but you're doing this all because you're trying to encourage change. It's fucked. Utterly, undeniably fucked.

These two entities - who you both are during the daytime, and who you both are when the sun goes down - are converging at rapid speed. It's getting harder to distinguish which is which.

All that's certain is that two orbiting stars will eventually, always, inevitably crash.

It's a countdown. Celestial union, or blackhole. Both feel equally terrifying.

Much better to pretend as if it isn't happening.

Easier.

"Can't," you whisper. Reinforce boundaries that have long since been broken. "Told you, I'm a busy girly. Book me in for a friend-date next time you wanna see me."

The phrasing is deliberate. A reminder of where you currently stand with one another, as declared by him more times than you care to remember.

"We had a night out," he sulks. "It automatically is a two-day affair. Always is."

"No, it's not," you softly laugh, getting out of his bed and finally putting your clothes back on. Your outfit from the night before is pretty basic, so you don't need to steal one of his shirts to protect your dignity. Disappointing .

You're out the door by midday, leaving Jeongguk to fester in his hangover pit alone - of which he does. For hours .

It's partially the hangover. Mainly the fear-induced paralysis that has overtaken his body. All he can do is stare up at the birds and wonder how the fuck it got to this point.

By the time Taehyung shows up at Jeongguk and Jimin's place that evening, Jeongguk's wearing clothes. Has managed to go a whole thirty minutes without complaining about his hangover. It's a record. Jimin knows. He's been counting.

It's bad. Skull-splitting, eye-dehydrating kinda bad. A hangover he wouldn't wish upon his own worst enemy.

This is a lie.

He wishes Seokjin nothing but hangover headaches for the rest of eternity. Scowls when he thinks about Seokjin. The tension of his muscles further exacerbates his headache. He knows it serves him right for thinking such negative thoughts - but as far as he's concerned, it's just another to be annoyed at Seokjin for. Prick.

Throughout the day, you've sent him pictures of your incredibly sorry state - glitter everywhere, hair piled on top of your head. Kind of matches his hair, of which is still tied in a scrunchie that you'd put him in the night before.

The last picture you'd sent through had dropped into his inbox fifteen minutes ago. Was read immediately.

Carrying a soda the size of your face, you're with Danbi and Hoseok, as promised, heading into a movie theatre downtown. He can't remember what you'd said you were seeing. Some superhero movie, he thinks, that he knows he'd care way more about if he didn't feel like such ass.

In fact, Jeongguk thinks he'd rather die than be at a movie theatre right now - but he also does like the idea of a dark room right now. Perhaps you aren't entirely insane.

Jimin had insisted on something 'healthy' to get Jeongguk out of his hangover slump, which is why, as Taehyung chucks his coat on one of the bar stools in the kitchen, he's stuffing his face with a chicken teriyaki wrap.

"Fuck me," Taehyung laughs. "A little worse for wear?"

Jeongguk just grunts. Hair all over the place, still haphazardly half-tied up by one of your scrunchies, he's covered in glitter.

There's no mistaking who he spent the night with - not that he cares to hide it. Can easily explain that you put the glitter on him, if anyone asks. The scrunchie, too. And if they don't? Fine. Let them assume what they like.

"How's DB?" Taehyung follows up, stealing a little lettuce from the chopping board, before plonking himself down next to Jeongguk - which earns another groan.

"Fine," he says through a mouthful of chicken and tortilla wrap. It really is not his finest hour. "Said she wanted to die just before they got to the cinema, so I'm sure she's gonna have a great time."

Funny, how those little phrases and intricacies of your identities seem to weave together these days. You're apparently constantly on the verge of death, and he's perpetually covered in glitter. Quite the pair, you make.

"S'pose that's what birthday weekends are for, aren't they?" Taehyung shrugs, not really thinking much of it, and not noticing the way Jeongguk seems to freeze.

Mouth full, wrap in hands, he almost chokes.

Jimin just asks, "It's Danbi's birthday? Why didn't you mention it? We could have-"

"Oh, no. It's not," Tae says, narrowing his eyes in confusion. He tilts his head. Why on earth would Jimin assume that?

The confusion is contagious. Not a single one of them understands exactly what's happening.

"Danbi's birthday isn't until the summer," Tae continues, a little caution in his tone. Has had it in his calendar since the first date. Is already planning a trip away for them both. Looks at Jeongguk, who is still frozen in position, like a frame in a cartoon that the animators forgot about. And then, he realises. "Gguk..."

"Oh, fuck," Jeongguk says. It's a miracle he doesn't choke, mouth still half full, even if he has tossed the rest of the wrap back down onto his plate.

The penny drops slowly, and then all at once.

"Oh, holy shit," Jimin says, getting to his feet, 'cause apparently the shock is that severe.

"You didn't..." Taehyung gasps, not finishing his question. "Gguk!"

"I didn't!" Jeongguk insists, swallowing down the bite of his wrap that had been suspended in his mouth for far too long.

And he really didn't - didn't forget , that is.

You've never told him your birthday. He's never asked.

"Fuck."

"Fuck," Jimin parrots.

"Fuck," Tae also echoes, but adds, "Dude... what the fuck?!"

Jeongguk stands. Begins to pace. Moves his hands in bizarre little motions as if he's trying to piece everything together.

Not once have you ever told him your birthday, he thinks.

"I swear, she never mentioned it," Jeongguk whines.

And he's right.

You haven't.

It's not without reason.

In a few short weeks time, it'll be a year since your first purple starfucker.

Though it was Hoseok's break-up you'd been commiserating, your own hadn't long since passed. The wounds still stung and it was better to lick salt off the back of your hand before a tequila shot than it was to sprinkle it in your emotional damage instead.

Drowning your sorrows had led you to Dionysus, your heart break just as fresh as the lemon that followed the tequila shots. The bitterness of the fruit didn't compare to the bitterness in your heart.

Hardly a surprise, though.

Break-ups are never easy - just like forgotten birthdays are always sad.

When your boyfriend asked to reschedule dinner plans and then showed up to your apartment at just gone midnight with no apology? No realisation of what he'd done so terribly wrong? A little ruby red rouge on his earlobe that you both knew came from the lips of someone else?

Oh, it was tragic .

Counter arguments of 'if it meant so much to you, why didn't you remind me?' frustratingly cursed in the dead of night, and pleas of 'I shouldn't have to beg you to give a shit about me' framed your demise.

And so Jeongguk has never experienced your birthday. Can't forget it, if he never knew it, you theorise. Not like Seokjin should have done.

Jeongguk doesn't know the flavour of cake you'd pick, or if cake is something you even choose to have on your birthday. He doesn't know how you do your makeup, 'cause he knows most girls go for glitter on their special day - but by that metric, every day would be your birthday.

You're thankful to have not had to discuss it. Part of the reason you like spending time with Jeongguk is the fact that he lets you forget ghosts of the past - and this time last year does still, regretfully, haunt you.

It's not like you properly celebrated Jeongguk's birthday with him, either.

Granted, it had been a boy's night - and a pretty quiet one, at that - but still. It was six months ago, though. Longer, in fact. So much has transpired since then.

The entire fabric of your friendship has been embroidered and embellished to the point of it being unrecognisable. What once was cheap tulle is now layers upon layers of glittering, sequin-emblazoned material, stitched with the finest of threads. There are constellations in your hems, and stardust between the seams. One of a kind. Impossible to replicate. Many will try; all will fail.

"Was it today? Yesterday?!" Jeongguk frantically asks Taehyung, 'cause he seemingly knows more. This acknowledgement pisses Jeongguk off. He should know this shit. Taehyung shouldn't. "How do you know?!"

"There's a bunch of birthday cards in their apartment-"

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans.

"Was literally yesterday-"

"YESTERDAY?" Jeongguk shrieks. Stops dead in his tracks.

If the Rock, Paper, Scissors battle had gone a little differently, he'd have known.

If he'd have insisted on taking you home, he'd have known.

So many tiny, meaningless decisions had led you back to his place last night. If he'd have been wiser or smarter, maybe he'd have realised. Maybe you had been giving him signals, and maybe he had missed them all.

And then his mind is jumping from conclusion to conclusion.

Did Seojoon know? Had he gotten you a gift? Oh, God. It's all so fucked.

But then he's thinking about Seokjin. Has seen white roses and a calling card on more than one occasion. Not for a while, granted, but he also saw the look on Seokjin's face when he'd insinuated that you'd moved on.

"Roses," he panics. Looks at Taehyung with such horror in his eyes, that it's a miracle he doesn't burst a blood vessel. "White roses. Were there any at their place?!"

"I don't think so?" Taehyung guesses, trying to remember what the apartment looked like when he last left. "I mean, I don't remember noticing any."

Jeongguk nods. Puffs out a breath from his marshmallow cheeks. Holds his knees as he keels over a little, body ravaged by a stress he doesn't quite understand. He resumes his posture a little too quickly, the pain of his hangover shooting straight back to his brain.

"Right. Shit," he curses. Then curses a couple more times. Pushes his hand back through his hair and then looks at his friends.

Though they're both well aware that missing a birthday is never good, Taehyung and Jimin are surprised at just how badly Jeongguk is taking this.

Feeling bad is one thing. Looking like he's just committed crimes worthy of jail time? A little excessive.

As Jimin smirks, Jeongguk snaps, "What?"

"Nothing. You're just acting like-"

"Don't," Jeongguk warns.

"-You're in love with her, or something."

He doesn't deny it.

Just rolls his eyes. Doesn't have time to waste debating the true nature of his feelings right now - especially not when he knows Jimin would never believe his denials, regardless.

"She never told me," Jeongguk steers the conversation away from matters of the heart. Wants to focus on logic instead. "Was with her all evening, and she literally didn't mention it once."

He explains the night before. Leaves out the part where you were his favourite date of the evening. Also leaves out the part where he held your hand on the entire cab ride home, and the way he'd kissed you once you were finally in the confines of his room.

There were no expectations; no illusion that it would lead to anything beyond a kiss.

And it didn't.

He'd kissed you just to kiss you. Slowly. Intentionally. Kept his dick well away, 'cause he knows how often the pair of you escalate things beyond the point of no return.

It had confused you at first. Made you worry a little - but the way he encouraged you back in whenever you pulled away let you know just how deliberate he was being.

"Shut up," Jeongguk had smiled into your lips when you'd given a small hum of perplexion. "Just kiss me."

And now he's standing in the living room, stroking at his bottom lip as if he's trying to remember the way you felt; if the poutiness has been from pleasure or disappointment.

"Okay. So?" Jimin just shrugs. Really does think Jeongguk should chill out a little, but knows that he won't. "She must have not wanted you to know."

Jeongguk doesn't like this. Scowls. "Why wouldn't she?"

"Some people just don't like birthdays," he shrugs again.

"Nah, Danbi baked her a cake," Taehyung interjects. Laughs to himself. Is disgustingly fond. "Danbi is great at many things, but baking is not one of them. I don't think she would have gone to all of that effort if DB doesn't like birthdays."

Just one look at you is enough to know that you're the kind of girl who enjoys birthdays. Of course you do. The pomp and pandemonium of party poppers? How could you not enjoy such occasions?

"Fuck," Jeongguk curses as he begins to pace once more.

On the one hand, it's not the end of the world - but on the other, he feels awful that he didn't make a fuss. Didn't get you a present.

But then there is also the worry - what if you had told him? What if he's just forgotten? What if the only reason you didn't mention it was because you wanted to see if he remembered?

The aching lull of his hangover subsides. Is overthrown by the stress of failure.

Jeongguk is uncertain as to whether or not you like surprise parties - but he does know the effort you went to for his final exam celebrations. Knows that what you did for him is likely the sort of thing you'd like to be done for yourself.

After all, people show their love in the ways they wish for it to be reciprocated. You're both acts of service kinda lovers. Nothing is too much trouble. Anything to make the lives of the people you care about easier. Better. Happier.

"Okay," Jeongguk eventually sighs as thoughts begin to formulate. "We need to do something."

We ? They think, but don't voice. This is not a group project. This is a Jeongguk thing.

"Yeah," he thinks out loud, totally in his own world. Jimin and Taehyung watch on as he triumphantly nods to himself. "Do something. Okay. Fuck. Do what? What would B like? Fuck."

And then he groans. Throw his head back. The motion is a little too fast. His hangover pounds, reminding him of his fragile state - so he reaches for the chicken wrap he was half-way through demolishing when Taehyung dropped the birthday bomb on him. A little bit of brain food will surely do him good.

"You know her better than us, mate," Taehyung shrugs. Knows what he'd do for Danbi, but also knows Danbi is the type to arrange her own surprise party. "You're the best judge. You and DB are basically attached at the hip these days."

"Okay, one - no we're not," Jeongguk scoffs.

"Yeah, you are," Jimin objects through a mouthful of chicken. Is glad he's not the only one who's noticed. Yoongi's been so busy with wedding preparations recently that he's not been around to shake his head in despair at you both.

"We're not," Jeongguk insists.

"Danbi reckons you are-"

"Oh my god, let me breathe," Jeongguk whines. Rolls his eyes. " You're the one who's always with Danbi."

Taehyung smirks. Raises a brow. "Yeah? She's my girlfriend, Gguk."

The silence that follows is left vacant by Jeongguk. There's no response he could possibly give that would convince either of his friends that he doesn't feel a certain type of way about you.

It's written all over his face whenever you walk into the room; how Jeongguk fucking glows in your presence, glitter sparking on his once pristine skin. You've corrupted him, and he hates to imagine life in which he doesn't notice specs of glitter on his skin in the early morning light. He's a better man for knowing you. He thinks his friends would agree.

Undeniably, they would.

"Whatever," he eventually dismisses. Sighs. "How the fuck do you throw a party for the living personification of a disco ball?"

"Maybe you don't," Jimin suggests. "Maybe she is the party."

Jeongguk isn't sure what Jimin means by this. "Huh?"

"I don't know," Jimin admits. "Just thought it sounded cool. Disco balls are, like, the centre of everything, right?"

He's not wrong - at least not in a party setting. The disco ball you'd been gifted for Secret Santa is proudly hung up in your bedroom, and whenever the light hits it right, the walls are dappled in the most glorious of sparkles.

You really are the embodiment of one, Jeongguk thinks.

And as if he's just been hit with a dozen speckles of refracted light, Jeongguk gets an idea.

"Tae, have you got the code for their place?" He frantically asks, to which his friend nods.

Jeongguk has your door code, too. Knows it from the times you've invited him over and told him to just let himself in. Doesn't want to admit to that, though, which is why he asked Taehyung.

"Okay, text Danbi," Jeongguk says. "We're breaking in."

"We?!" Jimin exclaims. "I'm not breaking the law just so you can get your dick wet-"

"Jimin!"

"What?" He feigns innocence, as if he's not airing Jeongguk out like a freshly washed load of laundry.

"This is not about getting my dick wet," Jeongguk says in disbelief. "We don't even fuck-"

"Bullshit."

"-And shut up, she's your friend, too. We're all breaking the law, because that's what friends do for one another."

"We literally all know you fuck. You've got an incredibly warped sense of friendship, Jeongguk," Jimin assures him. "And committing crimes definitely doesn't fall under the dictionary definition of it, either."

"It's not breaking the law if I've got the code," Taehyung interjects, though if he's being honest, he's not really sure of the law. Just assumes it's fine. "What are we doing, though? Why are we breaking in?"

Jeongguk declines to answer. Instead, says, "Text Danbi. Tell her we're going there. They'll easily be another, what, two hours? At the cinema, right?"

Shrugging, Taehyung supposes that the timeframe is probably accurate.

"Okay," Jeongguk nods, head down, brain trying to order things succinctly. "Let me just shower really quickly. How far out is the place you get your art supplies from, Tae?"

"About forty minutes," he explains. Jeongguk's been with him a couple of times. It's always been Taehyung driving on those occasions though, so he doesn't really remember the location. "It's on their side of the city."

The plan is beginning to formulate in Jeongguk's head. Dots are connected. One big idea is trickling down into achievable steps.

"Alright. If I give you a list, can you run there and pick some things up? Jimin, you good to come with me to their apartment? To set things up?"

He doesn't elaborate on any of his plans. Will just waste time if he does - and the boys know not to delay a frantic Jeongguk. Will just make him even more irritable, and he's unbearable enough with a hangover.

"You didn't throw me a party," Jimin huffs - but is reminded that Jeongguk did in fact pay the bar tab for a night of extremely heavy drinking in Dionysus, instead. A week's salary? Pissed away. "Yeah, fair enough."

"Anyways," Jeongguk adds. "This isn't gonna be a party. Just us three and those three, I think. It's a bit too last minute for anything big."

"What about Nabi? Hayun?" Taehyung innocently asks - but the glare thrown his way by Jeongguk for even thinking to ask such a question says everything he needs to know. Eyes wide, a soft smile on his lips, Taehyung holds his hands up. "Hey, was just asking!"

"Well, don't," Jeongguk offers.

There's an ambiguity to Hayun's place in Jeongguk's life, these days. A couple instagram reels sit unopened in his inbox from her, 'cause he doesn't care to entertain her. The last time he'd seen her was at the surprise party you threw after his exam. The same one he left early, 'cause you weren't there and it made him feel all funny inside.

On occasion, he wonders if he's being too harsh. Wonders if maybe he should just talk to her; explain that he's not the guy he was. No better, no worse. Just different.

"She said you've been ignoring her," Taehyung adds. Doesn't doubt it.

"We've just got nothing to talk about these days." Jeongguk shrugs. He's in no mood to even so much as think about Hayun. This weekend is yours. Thoughts about her aren't welcome. "Anyways, doesn't matter. She's not Byeol's friend. There's no need for her to be there."

Taehyung pushes it no further. Respects Jeongguk's reasoning.

"Right you are. Give me your list before your shower," he says, wanting to get a head start on whatever it is Jeongguk's got planned. Doesn't wanna be the reason it fails. Knows Jeongguk seems to have a lot of emotion riding on this, and he wants his friend to succeed. Thinks it's about time a little happiness came his way.

Just like Danbi thinks you deserve it, too - which is why she insisted on going straight home after the cinema. The plan had been to go for a drink, or grab food - but Taehyung's slightly ambiguous but very desperate texts were all she needed to see to change the plan.

"Careful," Danbi laughs with you as you meander up the stairs to your apartment, a little uneasy on your feet because you're still feeling a bit rough. Popcorn tub in hand, you've barely touched it - which is unheard for you. No matter how large the serving size is, you nearly always finish it before the films even started.

You just couldn't hack it today. Put it down to the hangover. The sweet scent of the popcorn usually has you salivating, but it made you feel slightly sick today.

"If you don't want it, I'll have it," Hoseok offers, not wanting it to go to waste. He's already demolished his own popcorn and half of Danbi's. Just loves it. Think it's the closest thing humans have got to magic.

"Not so fast!" You say. "I will eat it - just need my stomach to settle."

It's the only big symptom of your hangover that's still lingering. Usually, it's your headache that is the most stubborn - but the surround sound of the cinema bullied that right out of you. Showed no mercy. Forced you to confront it head-on.

"If you let it go stale before you let me have it, I'll end the friendship," he warns - and you do know he'll absolutely be a baby about it. Will most definitely have a little tantrum, but nothing that would serve to end your friendship. He might just not share his own food for a few weeks.

"I won't," you insist. "And hey - it's my birthday weekend. You can't be giving me ultimatums like this, Hobes. Totally unfair. You should be, like, worshipping the ground I walk on."

Danbi checks her phone as you and Hoseok babble nonsensically, tailing just a little behind you to make sure you don't see her message thread. Sends one to Taehyung.

Home soon x

It's reiterated to Jeongguk and Jimin, who quickly get into formation - which is really just a straight line blocking the view of the coffee table.

Nibbling down on his bottom lip, there's really no need for Jeongguk to feel such anxiety - it's just that he knows he shouldn't know about your birthday. Knows he shouldn't be in your apartment right now. Knows you won't be expecting this. Knows that he runs the risk of upsetting you, just in case there's a more substantial reason as to why you withheld your birthday from him.

"Fuck," he whispers, hearing the three of you amble up the stairs. "Do you think we should go?"

"Gguk," Taehyung deadpans. "It's a bit late for that."

"I know but-"

"Shush," Jimin laughs, as the sound of your conversation grows closer. "They're near."

Nodding, Jeongguk does as he's told, bottom lip kept stable beneath his top row of teeth. Tongue toying slightly with his lip ring, he doesn't even know how to explain what you're about to walk into. Decides it's better to just simply stop thinking at all.

The beep of your door code being entered echoes the thump of his heart, until the lock clicks. Bolt retracts. The door is pulled open, and Jimin counts a quiet, 3, 2, 1.

The way in which all three of them - Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung - burst into a chorus of 'happy birthday to you' is comical - all singing at slightly different tunes, volumes, and tempos. It's a jumbled mess, and they all refer to you by different names - but as you stand with a bemused smile by your door, Jeongguk knows it's worth it.

And finally, he begins to smile, too.

The anxiety and nerves are replaced with the unadulterated joy that comes with seeing you - and given the way you had said goodbye to him earlier that morning, he's glad that you seem equally as pleased to see him.

It's not that you'd had an unpleasant goodbye. Not in the slightest. If anything, it was too pleasant.

Jimin hadn't yet woken. The pair of you had been standing in his doorway; you fully dressed and ready to go, Jeongguk in a pair of sweats and nothing else, save for the scrunchie of yours still in his hair.

The pair of you had been a mess of giggles and 'go,' despite him pulling you back. 'I'll text you later' and knowing nods, but then 'wait, come back.' Grabbed waists and stolen kisses that neither of you had any business taking from one another. So many kisses. Pretty, dainty kisses, on his pretty, darling lips.

He'd held your hand as you walked away from him for the final time. Was a broken man when you eventually let it fall from your grasp, turning around with a coy smile as you headed for his elevator.

Glitter in his dishevelled hair, stars in his dark brown eyes, Jeongguk had been everything . Had been the boy next door, with his sweet giggles and appled cheeks. Had been the bad boy you know you should stay away from, with his messy locks and tattooed skin. Had been the mirror of you, with his glitter-covered skin and love-drunk gaze of adoration.

You'd spent a great deal of your time in the cinema fretting over it. Overanalyzing. Overthinking.

What if it was too much? What if he knew just how violently the butterflies had been swarming in your diaphragm? What if he'd just been reciprocating your actions because he hadn't wanted to make you feel bad?

Yet when you see him now, you know that none of those questions, nor their answers matter. Whatever is happening between you both simply doesn't matter.

You don't want clarification. Don't want to open yourself up to hurt. Just want things to stay exactly as they are.

Funny, really, how Jeongguk had been fretting just the same. Worrying that he had done too much. Is aware of how deeply intimate you regarded kisses to be. Should have held back. Should have fucked you last night. Should have done a bird. Stuck to the rules.

Instead, he had just kissed you.

Is well aware of the message it sends. Has been worrying that it perhaps isn't a message you wish to receive. Still doesn't know for sure - but knows that he'd like to keep things exactly as they are.

Just like you do.

Might be reading different books, but you're on the same page. It's like being in a mysterious book club. Just gotta wait until one of you decides to read aloud - but neither of you wants to be the first to go.

"What is this?" You laugh, utterly confused by everything in front of you.

Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung stand in a row, adorned in the silliest of photo booth props - party hats, feather boas, novelty glasses. The room around them is dressed to the nines - steamers, lights, bunting, things hanging from the ceiling - and there are half a dozen packets of polaroid film for your camera.

"It's your birthday party," Jeongguk says a little shyly. Looks behind himself, as if to check it's all still there. Smiles when he looks at you again. "You really thought you could get away with it, huh?"

Puffing your cheeks out with a little air, you scrunch up your face, surprised that he's scolding you - albeit very playfully - in front of other people. Flirts like this are typically reserved for your time spent alone together.

"Don't know what you mean," you smile, as Danbi and Hoseok encourage you further into the room. Looking around, you can't hide just how touched you are by the chaos surrounding you. There's something new, something different everywhere you look. "This is insane."

And it's only even more overwhelming when the boys part ways, and reveal the coffee table to you. On it are a dozen different papier mache shapes - Roman letters for your initials, ambiguous animals, and different-sized spheres - and what must be thousands of tiny mirrored squares. There are adhesives in abundance. Everything you need to make your very own disco balls - or some sort of iteration, at least.

"Guys," you say softly, appreciation lacing your voice. Have stars in your eyes, not just around them. "What is all this?"

When you pout in their direction, hands over your heart, Jeongguk thinks it looks like you might cry. Hopes you won't. Fears you will. Pulls you in for a hug to remedy it. The rest of your friends talk amongst themselves. Greet one another. Enthuse over the state of the place. Give you guys a second to one another.

"What the fuck?" You laugh softly into his chest. "Gguk, you didn't have-"

"Shut up," he smiles. Presses a kiss against your hair. Is discrete enough that no one notices. Smiles. "It was your fucking birthday , B."

"So?"

"So," he emphasises as he pulls away, holding your shoulders. "Birthdays aren't about the birthday person. Not really."

"No?" You laugh.

He beams. "Nope. They're for the people who love the birthday person."

It shouldn't come as a surprise that your best friend loves you. It should be expected. Shouldn't make you feel the way that it does. Oh, it's all so beautifully fucked.

"Kinda like a funeral," Jeongguk ponders out loud, not dwelling on the unintentional mention of love. "They're a time to show appreciation for the deceased. Birthdays are just the same."

Laughing, you shake your head, and let him manhandle you a little further into the room to have a better look around. "I don't think birthdays and funerals are that similar."

"Well," Jeongguk says. "You didn't tell me about your birthday, and I doubt you'll be the one telling me about your funeral, either. So they'll be similar in that regard."

Cringing, your shoulders tense slightly. Jeongguk simply rubs them, easing your awkwardness. "You've got a point."

"I know I do," Jeongguk laughs. Drops his hold on your shoulders to grab you a glass of the premade drinks. There are six of them. Long, not short. Purple. Raising your brow as you accept it, Jeongguk nods. Confirms your assumptions. "The long version of a star fucker. Star lover, I think we called it."

Fitting .

Joining your friends to sit around the coffee table on the floor, music humming from the speaker, you're lost for words.

There are no actual words that can be used to express your gratitude, you think. Nothing you can say to articulate how much this means to you.

"How did you even plan all of this?" You laugh, unable to contain your happiness.

"Don't look at us," Jimin laughs right back. Nods over to Jeongguk. "He's the mastermind, over there."

Glancing across to Jeongguk, you can't help but let yourself indulge in the nonsensical idea that his starry eyes are reserved for you, and you alone. He shrugs.

"You didn't give me much choice," he asserts.

"Wait," Hoseok interrupts, finally piecing it all together. Had just been in a bemused state of 'what the fuck' since arriving. Looks at you with horror. "You didn't tell him it was your birthday?!"

Awkwardly scrunching your face up, you shake your head. "I just didn't wanna be a bother."

It's not entirely a lie, but it is also an incredibly superficial explanation. There are layers to your reluctance to share your birthday with Jeongguk. Reasons. Past disappointments. Ones that Hoseok and Danbi are well aware of.

Even though he thinks of it, Hoseok doesn't mention last year. Doesn't reiterate his opinion of Seokjin being a heinous asshole for what he did.

Instead, he accepts your answer. Does tell you that you're an idiot, though.

"Hey," you whine. "It's my birthday weekend. You have to be nice."

"He's right, though," Jeongguk backs him up.

The smile he gives you is fond. Could call you the nastiest names he likes, but with a gaze like that? All you'd hear is a sweet melody reserved just for you, sung only by him.

Laughter echoes around the room as the evening settles in. All opting for slightly different shapes, your disco balls are truly an embodiment of who you are. Danbi is decorating a T, and Taehyung is decorating a D. It's all very vom-inducing - but they're too sweet for you to take the piss.

Jimin does it enough for everyone, anyway. Tells them that they're the most disgusting couple he's ever known.

Funny, how this attestation makes Jeongguk glance in your direction. Wonders what he'd think of you two as a couple. Knows that he'd probably also think you were disgusting if he saw how the pair of you behave together, sometimes.

Hoseok has gone for one of the animals. It's just the head. Can't decide if it's a cat or a dog, but decides it doesn't matter. Tells everyone it's definitely a squirrel. Nobody else can see his vision.

Jimin was going to do a J, but upon seeing Danbi and Taehyung's couple letters, opted for a cube instead. Disco balls go against all of his interior design desires, but he'll make an exception for you.

Traditional in his choice, Jeongguk is painstakingly trying to perfect an actual disco ball. Chose the second biggest size. Wanted to do the biggest one, but also wanted to use this as a practice run. Maybe he'll make a hobby out of restoring broken disco balls.

Beside him, you're also doing a sphere - just a much smaller one. Cuter. Daintier.

"That's so unfair," Jeongguk pouts when you finish your first row of mirrored squares. He's barely even begun. Wishes he'd set his sights on something smaller.

"Go big or go home," you remind him - then head to the fridge to get the jug of Jeongguk's special cocktail. Topping up everyone's glasses, you know exactly how this night is gonna go - and you couldn't be more pleased.

"You're trying to get me drunk," Jeongguk grins when you finally reach his glass. "Trying to sabotage my disco ball making skills, aren't you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sorts," you assure him - but honestly, you think the imperfections, if any, would only add to the charm. "You made the drink. It's on you if you can't handle it."

"Oh fuck off," he laughs, challenged. Takes a sip. A really fucking big sip. Nearly finishes it. "I'm a bartender, baby. I can handle it."

Laughing, you pretend to have not heard the way he just called you baby. He was just messing around. Didn't mean it.

"Sure you can," you tease, filling his drink back up. And so he repeats it. Half-flirting, half-competing against nobody. And so you top his drink right back up again. "Someone's got something to prove."

A second night of drinking in a row isn't what you'd been anticipating, but you welcome it. Think that you need a couple of drinks to handle the confusion of how you're feeling.

As the disco ball construction descends into chaos, and no one is quite able to get the spacing or positioning just right, you realise that this is the magic of a disco ball; how the broken can still be beautiful.

Yet when you look at your small creation, you're pleased. Sure, the lines are a little uncoordinated. There's a wibble wobble here and there - but it's yours .

Danbi and Taehyung manage to make theirs look pretty good, and Jimin's isn't too bad either.

Hoseok protests. Say they had it way easier.

"You chose that shape," Jimin laughs. "Don't blame us!"

For all of his artistic talents, disco ball crafting is not one of Hoseok's. It might also be that he's had six of Jeongguk's little cocktails.

He's had to remake the cocktail twice already, given how frequently you're all topping up for glasses from the jug. It's gonna be a messy night - but for once, there's no uncertainty over whether or not Jeongguk will be going home with you, for he's already here.

"It's my day off," Jeongguk jokes on the third remake. "Should be paying me."

"I'll make it up to you," you quietly promise him with a smirk, out of earshot from your friends.

He looks at you with inquisitive eyes as if to question what on earth you could possibly mean by that - and decides he's better off not questioning it. Will revel in the ambiguity of whatever the fuck is going on between you. Enjoys the flirt too much, especially when he's a little tipsy.

"Wait, wait - a little to the left!" Danbi instructs Taehyung as they begin to string up the makeshift disco balls in the meantime.

It's a labour of love, but it's worthwhile. Eventually, one by one, all of the creations take their rightful place, haphazardly tacked to the ceiling with tape that's a fair amount stronger than Jeongguk's washi tape. The sunset lamp you and Danbi rarely use is turned on. Pretty pink and peach reflections cascade all over the walls, dappling you all, too.

The clandestine touch of your hands as you pose for pictures is hidden from your friends.

There's an awareness that the way in which you're behaving is not normal of friends; that the lines between who you think you are, and who you truly are, have become blurred. There's a giddy silliness to it all, and it's why neither of you want it to stop. Childish, and stupid, it may be - but it's freeing, too. A farewell to the expectations that have kept you both in boxes for so long.

By the time you've drunk home bar dry, Hoseok is already asleep, and Jimin isn't too far behind. They're crashing in the living room, so you fetch their duvets and bedding, while instructing Jeongguk to go to your room.

"I can sleep out here," he offers. Doesn't wanna make things awkward for you - but you shake your head.

"Always save on the heating bill when you're here," you tell him. It's not a lie. It's also not why you want him in your room, either.

Thing is, you're both fucked. Jeongguk's mixing was getting stronger and stronger with each new pitcher. There's nothing either you can do to fight the drunken sleep that takes over as soon as you're beneath your sheets.

It makes it even more shocking that when you wake up the next morning, you're without a headache. If anything, you feel worlds better than you did the morning before and it worries you. Likely means that you'll crash later on in the day.

Jeongguk's not awake, so you slip out to grab water for you both. It's still dark, curtains drawn, but you can see light seeping in through the cracks. There are no curtains in your living room, and your phone is dead so you've no idea of the time. Dread to think of how long Jimin and Hoseok might have been awake.

"Oh, holy shit," you whisper in surprise as you walk into the living room, greeted by Jimin, sitting on your couch like a meerkat, posture perfect. He's wrapped in a soft blanket, face puffy from last night's lack of water and abundance of vodka.

"Mornin' DB," he croaks, channelling his best ET. Keeps his eyes glued to the television - where Allie and Noah are talking about birds.

"Notebook?" You ask, not that he needs to answer. You've watched more times since you've met Jimin than you have in your entire life.

He nods. Croaks. "You got any paracetamol? Dunno what Jeongguk put in those drinks but I think he might have been trying to kill me."

Before you can answer, a sleepy and dishevelled Jeongguk emerges from your room, shaking his hair out with his hand. He yawns, and says, "I was."

"Knew it," Jimin groans, flopping down to lie on the sofa. He's really not made for hangovers. "What were we even drinking?"

Jeongguk comes to stand beside you, hand on your hip as he reaches around to grab the phone charger plugged into the socket by the toaster. Speaks to Jimin as if he's not driving you insane. "Star Lovers."

He cements the name. Gives it delineation. A place in your life. Squeezes your hip as he says it. Wonders if you notice. If you're aware of his intentions.

You are - you just tell yourself he doesn't realise what he's doing.

"Tae and Danbi up yet?" You ask. Jimin just grunts. Is obviously feeling just like Jeongguk did the night before. "Where's Hobes?"

From the bathroom, you hear another grunt.

"You good?" You laugh, calling through to your fallen friend.

Another grunt.

"Put you down as a maybe," you say, but get him a Powerade from the fridge regardless. Pass it over to Jeongguk. "Can you give him this?"

Jeongguk looks at you with a little confusion.

"Don't wanna walk in on him if he's got his cock out," you say. In the past? Probably wouldn't have phased you. Now? Still wouldn't - but you don't wanna have to witness anyone else's cock right in front of Jeongguk, for some reason.

"Well, nor do I!" He protests, and passes it right back.

"Cock's not out," Hoseok whines from the bathroom. "Gimme fuel."

You narrow your eyes at Jeongguk, then proceed to deliver Hoseok's drink, only to nearly fall over laughing at his sorry state. He had somehow managed to retrieve his disco ball in the night, and is now hugging his ambiguous animal head tight to his chest, curled up around the toilet bowl.

"Think you killed our friends," you tell Jeongguk when you retreat to your bedroom, toothbrush in your mouth.

Jeongguk sits on your bed, shirt off, duvet pooled around his waist. Hair a mass, a lazily lopsided grin on his face, he's sin in the most heavenly of ways.

He shakes his head. Declares innocence. "They did it to themselves."

Now you shake your head. "You assisted."

"You're alive," he says. Is chancing his luck. Looks ever so pretty as he does so. "And I'm pretty sure you drank just as much as they did - so it's their fault. Not mine."

Humming some sort of disagreement, you leave the room to go and spit out your toothpaste, hopping over a still half-alive Hoseok.

When you return, Jeongguk's looking through some of the polaroids from the night before. You've no idea how many were taken - but imagine most of the new film is ruined with extreme closeups of Jimin and Hoseok's faces. They were doing that for, like, maybe ten whole minutes.

"Look at this one," he smiles, passing it over to you. "You should keep it safe."

It's one of you and Danbi, caught off guard, giggling about something. You rarely have pictures together - spend your time enjoying the moment instead of preserving it - so to have such a candid moment is precious.

Joining him on the bed, you don't really think much of the way you're sitting; staddled over his legs, looking down to where the pictures are on his lap.

"Hello," he says quietly.

"Hi," you whisper back.

"Come here often?"

"More than I should," you smirk, the double entendre dangerous for you both.

And yet Jeongguk licks his lips. Looks down to yours. Is shameless as he says, "Not enough. You should come here all the time."

"Well it's not like I 'come' anywhere else," you shrug, then cheekily correct yourself. "Sorry, not like I 'go' anywhere else."

Jeongguk is about to flirt back, but is thrown off by the way your body suddenly jerks a little.

Sucking air between your teeth, your hand presses against your abdomen. The swift pang of discomfort isn't unusual. You have ovaries. They don't always play ball. It's not the end of the world.

"You good?" Jeongguk asks, cocking an eyebrow. Strokes your hip. Wants to soothe whatever is wrong.

Nodding, you sweep aside his concern. "All good."

He doesn't buy it. "What's up?"

"Nothing," you insist - and you genuinely mean it. A skipped month here and there really comes as no surprise. Your body isn't a machine. Sometimes it doesn't do what you expect it to, but for the most part, you're fine.

It's not until Jeongguk's brows furrow, head tilting, that you think perhaps you should be concerned.

"When did you last-"

"It's fine," you dismiss immediately, not really wanting to discuss your menstrual cycle as a form of foreplay.

Your body just does this occasionally. Nothing feels out of the ordinary. The pain was a little sharper than usual, granted, but you were also drinking the night before. Your liver is probably throwing a tantrum.

"B, don't fuck around with shit like this," Jeongguk says, his tone not one you're used to hearing. It's direct. Stern. A little sexy, if you're being honest, but the look on his face would suggest now is not the time for a little flirt.

"I promise," you say instead, giving him a soft smile, hands cupping his jaw. "If I thought anything was wrong, I'd be the first to freak out. Just a couple days late. No biggie."

Jeongguk nods. Is seemingly soothed by your touch. Knows that what you're saying is likely true. Knows that you'd have already been to a pharmacy by now, if you had any reason to believe your skipped period was the result of his cock.

"If anything happens..." Jeongguk starts, but trails off. You wait it out. Let him gather his thoughts - of which he eventually does. "Just let me know when you get your period, m'kay?"

With a nod, you promise you will. "If it's not here within a day or two, it'll probably mean I've skipped this month. I can take a test if it will make you feel better?"

Without hesitation, Jeongguk nods. "Why not just do one now? Get it over and done with?"

"Because if I do a test today and get my period tomorrow, I'll be annoyed," you laugh. A single day really doesn't make that much difference in the grand scheme of things. "Plus it's a Sunday."

"So?" Jeongguk laughs.

"Lazy day," you smile. "I don't wanna do anything that requires heavy thinking - and let's not forget how much alcohol I've had in the past 48. I've definitely killed off any lingering pests."

Jeongguk scoffs. "My sperm aren't pests."

"Pests are annoying," you say. "And you are also annoying. Do the maths."

"You're literally sitting on my lap," he shakes his head.

"You can be annoying and sexy."

"You're unbearable," he tells you, but the softness of his smile and the dimples in his cheeks would suggest that he doesn't think that in the slightest.

Nudging your nose up against his, you smile. "And yet you're holding onto me for dear life, aren't you?"

His grip only tightens. Hikes you further up his lap. Reaches down to discard the polaroids. Gets you right where you belong. "Think your blood alcohol content is high enough to kill pests, still?"

"So you admit it?" You tease, ignoring his question. "Your cum is an annoyance?"

"I'll admit it if you stop begging for it every time we fuck."

"Let's try now," you whisper. Let your nose nudge a little further against his. Don't kiss him - but you could . It drives him insane. "Let's see how I do."

He's about to lift the hem of your shirt. About to retrace the steps of a dance you know by heart at this point. Is about to disregard any and all of his initial panic of the morning - but then you're both distracted by a subtle thud.

Glazing over to the wall between yours and Danbi's room, it doesn't take a genius to work out what's happening. There's a second thud. A third. Fourth. A sound that is a little different, but incredibly human.

"Oh, fuck," Jeongguk laughs.

Whatever is happening in Danbi's room is exactly what was going to happen in your room.

"Oh my god," you laugh along with him. "Shit - Jimin."

"Let's go," Jeongguk taps on your thighs for you to get off, and you do so without hesitation.

The flirt had been fun, but it's not worth the humiliation of Jimin finally hearing you fuck. Jeongguk adjusts himself. Only has a semi, so it'll go down fairly quickly. Nothing to worry about.

"Oh thank God," Jimin hisses when you get to the living room. "Thought it was you guys."

"We don't fuck!" You both say in unison, and then look at each other as if you're offended by the quick denials.

"Right, yeah," Jimin mocks. "Totally believable. Good job, guys."

"Shut up," Jeongguk laughs, coming to rough house with a very delicate Jimin. They're as boisterous as brothers; testament to their friendship formed before they were tall enough for roller coasters. Gets him in a headlock. Jimin bites his arm. "We're just friends."

Jimin says something, but is still biting Jeongguk's arm, so it's completely muffled. With a big grin on your face, you just turn the TV up and plonk yourself down beside them. "Grow up."

And just like your denial earlier, Jeongguk and Jimin pull apart to look at you with great offence, and both say, "You grow up!"

You're certain that the boys will never outgrow how childish they are, and it worries you that the same could be said for you and Jeongguk.

Looking up to the disco balls in your living room, you notice the small swirl at the bottom of Jeongguk's mirrored tiles forms a small heart, and wonder how intentional it was.

He'll never tell you. Will keep it a mystery.

The world's worst kept secret: how much Jeon Jeongguk adores you.

A silly little thought to have. Implausible. You've seen him around girls he's loved. Don't think you into that category.

The most stupid thing at all is that you're even thinking about it. Why would you care to be loved by him? Why would you want your favourite person in the whole world to adore you? Why does it make you feel all nervous and yet remarkably calm all within the same second?

And when you look over time, and catch his eyes, why does his smile make your heart hurt?

But then your ovaries act up again. Give you a little pinch to remind you they're still there, even if they're not doing their job properly.

That must be it, you think. Just heightened hormones from your cycle being out of sync.

A knock at the door startles you from your thoughts, but Jeongguk offers to get it. You let him. Watch on with great curiosity as he takes a second to assess what's been delivered.

He looks down. Shakes his head. Scoffs. Lets out a laugh that sounds anything but humorous. Pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

Is bitter - jealous - as he simply says, "It's for you."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

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eksvaized · 11 months ago

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Part One Ghost / Reader [ Previous ︱Next ] AO3 ︱Wattpad taglist (if you want to be added - let me know!)

A/N: this fic is a result of bunch of chick flicks that I've watched recently

I usually write stories containing darker themes, but I wanted to try doing something different this time ‘cuz I need a break from yandere!simon

“Are you going to tell me your name now?” Simon asks, his voice barely more than a breathless whisper in the tranquil hush of the room. His hands uncurl from the curve of your hips and fall away as he succumbs to gravity, collapsing onto the mattress beside you. His chest heaves lightly. Sweat glistens on his forehead, each bead glowing like a tiny diamond under the soft moonlight that filters through the thin curtain.

On this sweltering, broiling night, the heat clings to everything like a second skin, oppressive and all-consuming. It’s a night where the air is so thick it could be cut with a knife, making the small, cramped hotel room feel more like a furnace than a refuge. The window barely opens, offering only a tiny crack for any trace of a breeze to sneak in. Yet, despite the dry heat, the simmering tension between you and Simon, built through stolen glances in a dimly lit bar, reached its boiling point — it was impossible for you and Simon to resist each other any longer.

The pull between you two was so strong, so utterly irresistible, that before you knew it, you found yourself lost in the sea of crumpled sheets of a stranger’s bed. In fact, you were so caught up in the whirlwind of passion that you didn’t even bother to ask for his name. It seemed an irrelevant detail in the face of such raw desire.

However, in the midst of your tangle of limbs, with your legs looped over the stranger’s broad shoulders and your nails digging into his forearm, he murmured his name in your ear. It was clear he wanted you to know it, to whisper it, to moan it as he drove his hips into you with a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart.

You didn’t dismiss his breathless request. Instead, you embraced it with fervour, letting his name roll off the tip of your tongue like a sultry melody. You surrendered yourself to him, losing yourself in the depth of his gaze and the strength of his touch…

“If I do, will it change anything?” You say, your words dripping with a hint of sarcasm. Slowly, you sit up on your knees. The sheets cascade down from your body, revealing your bare skin. Your fingers find their way to your hair, combing through the tangles and knots. As you do this, the strands separate and peel away from your neck, revealing the flushed skin underneath.

“I told you mine,” Simon counters, his voice carrying a playful edge that mingles with the thick tension in the room. He tilts his head to the side, studying your expression with an unreadable look in his eyes; his gaze is piercing yet gentle, like a predator observing its prey.

Simon shifts, rolling slightly to the side. His hand starts to wander, tracing a path from your knee, winding its way up to the soft curve of your thigh. His fingers dig into your flesh, kneading it with a tantalizing mixture of gentleness and urgency. He can’t seem to get enough of touching your silky smooth skin, as though each contact is imprinting you deeper into his memory. And each feather-like touch, each slow stroke of his fingers, draws you further into the mattress, causing air to get stuck in your lungs.

If only the stifling heat wasn’t so unbearable that it filled the room with a heavy atmosphere. If only his muscles weren’t screaming in protest. Then, by now, you would already be on your fours, your head buried in the soft pillow, your back arched. His name would be the only sound breaking the silence. The only sound escaping your lips.

“Only because you wanted to,” you retort, not missing a beat. You lean forward, breaching the distance between you two, and steal another lingering, one last kiss. The intoxicating taste of him, a cocktail of mint and bourbon, still clings to your lips as you slowly pull away, a soft sigh eluding you.

Without uttering another word, you slip out from the bed and begin to walk towards the bathroom. The air of the room prickles your naked skin. Goosebumps ripple across your arms and legs. You can feel Simon’s gaze following your every movement. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine. With a small, playful smile dancing on your lips that he can’t see, you intentionally move your hips just a bit more than necessary, adding a little extra tantalizing sway to your step. And just as you hear the mattress creak, as soon as you hear Simon’s feet hitting the ground, you disappear behind the bathroom door and lock it.

After a swift rinse under the lukewarm droplets of the shower, you briskly dress up and leave without saying goodbye to Simon. You rationalize this choice by reminding yourself that there’s no real point in prolonging the inevitable - you have no intention of seeing the man again. Besides this, you are already running perilously late: your stuff is still strewn about your room, waiting to be packed. The notion of missing your flight looms ominously in your mind. You know that if you wish to catch the same flight as your co-workers and finally escape the conference that’s lasted a week, you need to hasten your pace…

* * *

As Simons settles onto the couch, his mind lost in thought, he absentmindedly traces the contours of his fiancée’s hand. His brown eyes drift down to the glittering engagement ring on her finger. The diamond sparkles under the soft lighting of the living room. With a feather-like touch, he slowly brushes his fingertip over the gem, feeling the smooth coolness of the stone against his skin, as a sigh escapes trough his parted lips.

Simon Riley is soon to be a married man. The idea seems so outrageous, so outlandish, it could very well be the punchline of an April Fools’ joke. Yet, he must remind himself of the reality. That this isn’t a joke, or an April Fools’ prank. This is real and truly happening. In just a short month or so, he will be a married.

The idea of sinking into the comfort of a conventional lifestyle was always as foreign to him as an unfathomable alien landscape - barren, devoid of the thrill and adrenaline he thrived on. The thought of buying a quaint, picturesque house nestled in the heart of a peaceful suburban neighbourhood, of exchanging his motorcycle for the mundane practicality of a family car, had never been part of his future plans. He had always seen himself as a lone wolf, never meant for long-term relationships or the compromises they entailed.

Simon’s stubborn nature, his steadfast refusal to openly express his feelings or display vulnerability, made him a difficult man to understand, let alone love. He had long since accepted the fact that his seemingly harsh exterior and emotionally distant demeanor might not fit neatly into someone’s idea of an ideal partner. The very notion of compromise? For Riley, that was a foreign concept. It was always his way or the highway, no questions asked. So what kind of woman would willingly accept a man like him, scarred both physically and emotionally, and dare to love him despite these jagged edges? Definitely not a sane one.

Yet, against all odds, a woman who saw past his hardened exterior, who looked beyond the scars etched on his face, body and soul, and saw the man beneath, had walked into his life. And now, she was about to become his wife.

Emily was a gorgeous woman, with her slightly crooked nose, a warm smile that could light up the darkest room, and her big eyes that told a thousand unspoken words. Initially, she and Simon were just neighbours, and he found her to be quite annoying - probing too much into his life and generally being involved in his affairs more than he would have liked.

However, as time wore on, a bond developed between them. It was not something that they had planned or anticipated to happen. Yet, whenever he returned from his deployments, each more grueling and tension-laden than the last, he found himself inexorably drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. They started spending more and more time together, just being in each other’s company, sometimes barely even talking.

Emily had a way of making him feel grounded, of making feel normal amidst the chaos of his life. Over time, one thing led to another. Their feelings for each other grew stronger, and without either of them ever explicitly acknowledging it, they found themselves in a relationship.

Simon was well aware of Emily’s dreams - her desire to get married someday, to build a family with the man she loved, and to live in a charming house with a white picket fence and a spacious backyard. He also knew that he couldn’t provide her with those things. He was aware of the fact that someday their paths were destined to veer apart, with life steering them in different directions. However, life doesn’t always go according to plan, especially not the one Riley made, and there came a day when he found Emily in the bathroom, her eyes swollen with tears.

Seeing her in such a state was heartbreaking for him, but she refused to share what was causing her distress. It took her an entire day to gather the courage, but by evening, she confessed that she was pregnant. The news hit Simon like a tidal wave; the shock making it feel as though the very earth beneath his feet had been violently torn away. Without uttering a single word, he stormed out, leaving her alone. He spent the entire day wandering aimlessly through the city streets, chain-smoking and grappling with the enormity of the situation.

As dawn broke, painting the sky with soft hues of orange and pink, Simon returned home, a ring in his hand, and proposed to Emily. After all, it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Simon was not the kind of man who would create a situation like this and then leave Emily to deal with it on her own. He knew she wasn’t going to terminate the pregnancy - he wouldn’t even dare suggest it because it was her body, her choice. And since she was going to keep the baby, the only feasible course of action, the only path he could see himself taking, was to offer her marriage and make her dream come true, even if it meant sacrificing his own.

“Is she really coming tonight?” Simon asks and pulls out the phone to check the time.

“Yes,” Emily replies with a resigned sigh, sinking into the plush couch cushions, her gaze distant. “But she operates on her own schedule. She’s never been very punctual, so I wouldn’t start worrying just yet.”

Emily’s older sister was due to arrive at their flat any moment now. She was coming to stay with them for a while, primarily to help Emily in planning the wedding because Emily realised she needed all the assistance she could get. Especially since she believed that Simon, bless his heart, was quite inept when it came to these matters.

To Emily, Simon’s wedding ideas were like a child’s drawing, far removed from the elegant masterpiece she had envisioned for her special day. For instance, red-coloured napkins were, in Simon’s opinion, a perfectly acceptable choice, as was serving cake on paper plates that they could later just throw out. Emily, however, found these suggestions utterly appalling. And although Simon didn’t quite understand all the fuss, he was willing to bend to his fiancée’s wishes. After all, she was carrying his unborn child, and he would do anything to ensure her happiness.

When the weight of wedding planning began to press heavily on Emily, like a towering mountain threatening to crumble, Simon offered an alternative. He had proposed the idea that they might consider getting married after the baby was born. Perhaps a year or two down the line. But Emily was quick to dismiss this, insisting that she wanted to walk down the aisle before her belly started showing: she dreamed of wearing a beautiful, elegant and definitely the most expensive wedding dress she could find. Luckily, Simon was not only understanding, but also financially capable of making her dream come true.

As another hour slips by, a sudden, sharp rap at the front door punctures the silence like a gunshot. Emily’s face immediately lights up. She springs up to her feet with an agility that catches Simon off guard, leaving him rooted in place, a spectator to her sudden burst of energy. Emily dashes towards the hallway with a speed he didn’t know she possessed—she was usually a clumsy woman, prone to tripping over her own feet, making this display all the more surprising.

By the time Simon manages to shake off his surprise and catch up, Emily is already pulling a woman into an enthusiastic embrace. Her words bubble over in her excitement, too fast and too joyful for him to catch.

When the two women separate, their laughter still echoing in the hallway, bouncing off the walls and infusing the house with warmth, Emily steps to the side and spins around. Simon’s muscles involuntarily tense, his back growing rigid as he watches the newcomer, the woman standing in front of him.

“Simon, this is my older sister—” Emily introduces, her hand gently guiding her sister forward.

Simon’s lips part, yet no words escape. He is speechless. How could he not be when he’s facing you? He thought that he had buried the memory of you deep within his mind, convinced himself that the image of you in his hotel room was just a fragment of his imagination. After all, more than three years had passed since your last encounter. But seeing you now, more beautiful than he recalls, watching your eyes rest on him and a blush creep onto your cheeks as you politely extend your hand, makes his heart sink. Do you not remember him?

“Y/N,” you say, a feeble smile on your lips. “It’s nice to meet you. Finally.”

Simon, not wanting to dredge up memories and thinking it might be better that you don’t seem to recall his face, nods. Struggling to control his overwhelming emotions, but somehow managing to keep his voice steady, he lightly shakes your hand. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

* * *

As the moonlight pours into the room, you toss and roll in the bed. The mattress is too firm; the pillow is too soft. The sheets twist and turn around you, feeling like knots of rough ropes. They wind and tangle around your limbs, tightening their hold, suffocating your body in their constricting, serpentine grip. A wave of heat suddenly washes over you. Was this room always this hot? You struggle to remember, but the increasing warmth is smothering, clouding your thoughts like a thick fog. You angrily kick off all the blankets, sending them to the foot of the bed. The pillow follows next, thrown to the side with a huff of frustration. Your fingers hook under your shirt, pulling it slightly upwards. You expose your navel to the cool room air, and the sudden temperature shift sends goosebumps rippling across your skin.

A few weeks ago, on some early Sunday morning, you were awoken by the excited voice of Emily crackling through the phone. She was bursting with news, eager to share her joy with you. She had just gotten engaged and was anxious, but in a good way, to start planning the wedding. And she wanted you by her side, to help her prepare for the impending nuptials. At that moment, when you agreed to come and stay with her and Simon — you could never say no to your little sister, especially when it’s something as monumental as her wedding — you had never imagined it would turn your life upside down.

Emily, with her usual candor, had spoken at length, in great detail, about Simon, her now-fiancé. Her voice was always filled with admiration and affection whenever she mentioned him - she was never shy about singing his praises, about the way he showered her with attention, about how he lavished her gifts. She would often talk about his comfortable financial status, too. It was a factor that allowed her the luxury of indulgence in her every whim and fancy without the slightest concern or anxiety over how to pay for it. Whether it was something as mundane as a monthly subscription to the gym or something as extravagant as a new pair of expensive earrings that she had been eyeing for some time, Simon was always there to provide.

Sometimes, when she called you, there was an air of show-off in her voice, as she boasted about the lovely dinner she had with Simon at some upscale, pricey restaurant, or the new designer handbag he had gifted her. And deep down, beneath the surface, you could feel a little twinge of jealousy. How could you not? You worked long hours, lived alone in your small apartment, and barely had the time or energy to date. Not that you were desperate to find a long-term partner or anything, but still, it was a stark contrast to Emily’s life. And you definitely could not yet afford to live a lifestyle where you could buy whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, without the slightest worry about your bank balance.

The stark contrast between your lifestyle and your sister’s was sometimes a little too glaring. Yet you tried not to think about it too much or too often.

Emily’s wish for you to meet Simon was no secret, too. She had frequently brought it up in conversations, hinting at the idea, yet for a myriad of reasons, a formal introduction had never come to pass. Perhaps the lack of free time on your end was to blame, or more likely, you had never prioritized creating that time. After all, Emily’s choice of a life partner was her own, and as far as you were concerned, it didn’t particularly matter who she chose to marry, as long as the man she picked treated her with the respect and love she deserved. Your only concern was Emily’s happiness. Which is why, as long as she was not spending sleepless nights crying over petty arguments, you were content to stay in the periphery of her romantic endeavors.

Even when Simon and Emily moved in together, you never made the effort to visit and meet him in person. This was mainly because you harbored serious doubts about the longevity and seriousness of their relationship. This skepticism was fueled by Emily’s frequent grievances about Simon’s reluctance, and how he had categorically labelled himself as a man who was not meant for marriage—you believed that a proposal was highly unlikely.

But now, as you lay in the guestroom of Simon and Emily’s flat, a bitter regret gnaws at you. You wish you had made a different choice. You wish you had taken the time and effort to meet Simon, even just once, because perhaps then, you wouldn’t be in this painfully awkward situation that you currently find yourself in. Perhaps then, Emily wouldn’t be on the precipice of marrying a man who, still unbeknownst to her, was once your one-night stand.

You know, deep within your heart, that you shouldn’t let yourself care. It’s a truth you’ve been grappling with, a reality that you’ve been trying to accept ever since you stepped into this flat — you are not with Simon and, in fact, you never were. Yet, it still feels incredibly strange, almost surreal, to acknowledge the fact that he is now the man your sister is going to be spending the rest of her life with.

The part that stings the most, the piece of this strange puzzle that seems to hurt more than you anticipated, is not just his engagement to your sister. It is the fact that he appears to have completely erased you from his memory. Over the course of the late-night dinner that the three of you shared tonight, not once did he give an inkling of recognition, not a single hint that he had ever crossed paths with you before. It made you wonder, Are you really so easily forgotten?

You know, a lot of time has passed, but you had harbored a tiny flicker of hope that you had made at least some kind of impression on him. Because after you saw him for that last time all those years ago, when you quietly slipped away from his hotel room without uttering a word of goodbye, his face stayed etched in the deep recesses of your memory for quite some time afterwards. After all, forgetting a man like Simon, the tantalizing way his touch was a paradox of gentle yet rough, hungry yet patient - it was akin to attempting to erase the sun from the sky.

But perhaps it’s for the best, you begin to think. His apparent forgetfulness, although initially hurtful, might actually be a blessing in disguise. It means there’s no need to dredge up the past, no need to revisit those memories. There’s no awkwardness to navigate, no turbulent undercurrents of tension to swim against. You don’t need to worry about him or Emily feeling uncomfortable with the knowledge that, in another time and another place, you both slept with the same man.

After spending another restless hour tossing and turning in bed, you decide to get up because forcing yourself to sleep is becoming painful, both physically and mentally. You rummage through your yet-to-be-unpacked suitcase, a dishevelled heap thrown carelessly near the door, and retrieve a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes. Despite your recent attempts to kick the habit, right now all you can think about is the desperate need for a cigarette. You hope it will soothe your frayed nerves and hopefully lull you into the elusive sleep that you so crave.

Slipping from your room, you are aware that the balcony is off-limits - that would entail walking through Simon and Emily’s bedroom - while the thought of descending the elevator only to ascend again after five minutes seems equally unpalatable. Getting dressed would be too much of a chore right now. So, clinging to the hope that Emily and Simon are deep in slumber, you tiptoe to the kitchen and push the window open as wide as it can go.

After moving a flowerpot out of the way, you gingerly perch yourself on the windowsill. The street below is eerily deserted, with only the occasional car breaking the silence as it zooms by. In the huhs, your thoughts wander, and you find yourself yearning for the familiar chaos of your own flat. You miss the cluttered living room, littered with books and knick-knacks, and the comfort of your own bed. The idea of spending the next month here is daunting, almost overwhelming. The only solace you find is in the hope that helping Emily with her wedding preparations will keep you so occupied that you won’t have much time to interact with Simon.

Before you can even consider managing to stay in the same room as him without your heart racing, you need to confront your own tangled feelings. You must face the hard truth that all of this is not some elaborate, fevered dream, but an undeniable reality.

“Are you planning to jump?” A low, gravelly voice asks from behind you. Every muscle in your body tenses like a tightly coiled spring, and you sit up straight, your heart starting to pound in your chest.

In a futile attempt at nonchalance, you try to lower your hand, hoping to camouflage the lit cigarette you’re holding. Yet, the unmistakable, pungent smell of burning tobacco, which fills the kitchen like a heavy fog, and the tiny trail of white smoke spiraling upwards and dissolving into the stuffy air like a ghost, betrays you.

“Don’t think so,” you reply, your voice barely louder than a whisper, a soft murmur that almost gets lost amidst the persistent hum of the refrigerator and the distant tick-tock of a wall clock.

There’s a moment of hesitation, similar to a deer caught in headlights. You remain frozen in place before you gather enough courage to turn and look at Simon as he approaches you, his footsteps echoing loud and clear in the otherwise silent kitchen. You had somehow convinced yourself that you were safe here, that neither Emily nor Simon would find you, but you were obviously wrong. It feels like the universe just played a cruel joke on you.

And now, as you sit there, enveloped in the awkward silence and under Simon’s unwavering gaze, you can’t help but think that maybe remaining in your room, continuing to lay in the warm bed, would have been a much better choice than being here, forced to talk with Simon.

His gaze, sharp like the edge of a knife, meets your hand, and you brace yourself, thinking he will scold you because the kitchen now smells like smoke. But, to your surprise, instead, he reaches out, snatches the still-burning cigarette from your grasp, and takes a deep drag. The bright tip of the cigarette casts a ghostly glow in the dimly lit kitchen, painting everything with a hazy orange hue. You press your back against the wall when Simon leans closer to the open window, his palm resting on the windowsill, dangerously close to your leg. He exhales a thick cloud of smoke into the cold night air, each puff disappearing into the inky darkness.

Simon is not wearing a shirt. In fact, the only piece of clothing that adorns his body is a pair of loose boxers, decorated with tiny white skulls that are a little faded. You try, and fail, not to stare.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks another question that ripples through the still air like pebbles cast into a calm lake, but you just shrug, choosing to keep your thoughts to yourself. It wouldn’t be wise to admit that he’s the reason behind your insomnia, and in your current state of mind, you don’t have any other reasonable explanation to offer.

In silence, the two of you continue to chain-smoke. The cigarette gets passed back and forth between your fingers, and you are cautious of where your fingertips touch — you avoid grazing his skin as though it was a burning ember. A part of you, a desperate part, yearns to continue this quiet. But there’s a question, a nagging doubt, that has been lurking in the back of your mind. It feels as though it’s burning a hole in your skull, demanding an answer. You want, no, need to know - how can he not remember you?

But you aren’t a person to be so straightforward, so blatant with your questions. So, instead, after a minute or two of wrestling with your thoughts, and failing to suppress the question any longer, you say, “You know, I knew someone named Simon once.”

He turns to look at you, his brown eyes darkening. His gaze, initially wavering, drops for a brief moment before it slowly travels back up, taking in your entire frame. Every instinct in your body screams at you to curl into a ball, to roll your shoulders inwards and lower your chin, letting your eyes fall into your lap. Yet, you muster all the strength you can find to sit still, to not let his attention intimidate you. Especially when Simon, with a wicked glint in his eyes, decides to draw out the silence, making each passing second feel like an eternity.

“Funny,” he then says. “I also once knew a woman that looked awfully a lot like you. Wish I could tell you her name, but she never gave me it.”

The intensity of his gaze sears into you, becoming too overwhelming to bear. You finally avert your eyes, pretending to look at the street below. But the sound of his voice, the way he speaks, makes it difficult for you to breathe, for you to slow down your hammering heart. “She said something along the lines that we would never cross paths again,” he continues, his voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.

“Obviously, she was wrong,” you interject and summon the courage to look at him. Only for a moment, though.

“Obviously,” he echoes, a smirk curling the corners of his lips, but as soon as your gaze lands on him, he quickly wipes it off his face.

Even the faint breeze that sneaks in from the open window begins to feel like a winter’s bite, stinging your skin with its icy touch. So, he remembers you. You don’t know how to feel. A part of you can’t help but wonder if he, too, like you, is mentally replaying the night you two spent together, because you certainly are. Your mind is a reel of candid moments, every detail etched in your memory.

Despite the physical distance between you and him, a mere few steps that feel like an abyss, you can almost feel the phantom of his touch. His fingertips seem to be gliding over your skin once again, leaving trails of heat where they touch. You can almost feel the warm puff of his breath tickling your neck as he presses a kiss, and then another one. These thoughts, these memories, they send a cascade of shivers down your spine, an electric shock that jolts your senses. This is not good, terrible, awful. You berate yourself silently, feeling like a terrible sister.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” You ask, seeking some form of conversation to distract yourself from the increasingly unsettling thoughts swirling in your mind: the more you focus on your thoughts, the more inappropriate and lewd they become. You desperately need to shut off your mind, to clear it, and the only way to do so seems to be to immerse yourself in something else. Even if that something else is an awkward, tension-filled conversation with Simon.

Simon’s reaction to your question is a slight roll of his eyes. But there is no hint of annoyance in his voice, no sign of frustration or anger. Instead, what you hear is a sense of calm resignation. “Didn’t think it was a great idea to bring it up. Was sure Emily wouldn’t appreciate finding out that I had slept with her sister some years ago and never told her.”

As he speaks, you feel a knot forming in your stomach. Against your will, the words that you would rather swallow down and never utter find their way out, “We should forget about it. Probably.” It’s not what you want, not really, but it seems like the only right thing to do in this situation.

“Probably. Given her current condition, any additional stress wouldn’t be good for Emily.”

Your eyebrows furrow deeply in a mixture of confusion and concern as you struggle to understand what he’s referring to. “Her condition?” You repeat his words, trying to make sense of them.

Simon’s lips part and close slowly before he asks. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” You ask again, your patience wearing thin.

“Can’t tell if you don’t know,” he replies, and a frustrated huff escapes your lips, disappearing into the shaky air between you.

“Tell me. She’s my sister. I need to know if something is wrong,” you say, not willing to let this go without a fight. Your mind races as you try to think of what Emily might be keeping from you. If she’s fallen ill, you demand—no, you require—to know. She’s the only family you have left, and Simon is still yet to become a part of it. He is still an outsider in many ways. Thus, he has no right to keep things from you, especially important information that directly concerns your sister and her wellbeing.

Simon sighs heavily. He runs a hand through his messy hair, ruffling it further, before he saying, “Nothing is wrong. She’s just… she’s pregnant.” He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, and also to gauge your reaction to the unexpected news.

When you remain silent, he takes it as a cue to continue. “She didn’t want to tell anyone, not yet. She mentioned something about not wanting to celebrate prematurely before we know for sure that everything’s okay—she still needs to see a doctor.”

You know your initial reaction should be one of joy. Emily has always been vocal about her desire to start her own family. But as you look into Simon’s eyes and see your hazy reflection in them, you can feel a lump forming in your throat. Your body goes numb, and it feels as if you’re losing something, something you never even possessed.

“Don’t tell her I told you,” Simon says after you mumble you should be going back to bed.

You cast a lingering look over your shoulder, feeling a sense of heaviness weighing down your heart, and slowly nod. “Of course not.”

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #love triangle

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salty-autistic-writer · 3 months ago

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Tommy’s coma dream please!

Ok, so, the idea of this fic is that Tommy is in a coma (post-break-up era) and stuck in some kind of loop. Every time he tries to escape, he's thrown into another (lonely) horror scenario of his life and first, he always doesn't know it's not real, but there will be someone from his life showing up who's like "You have to get out of here in time, otherwise you'll die". Bonus: They are all people who actually visit him during his coma and Tommy's subconsciousness realises that he's not as lonely as he thought he was.

Snippet:

It's fine. This is the right thing to do. It's been inevitable. Tommy tries to convince himself, but by the time he steps outside, he feels so heavy, that it seems impossible to drag his body the short distance to his truck waiting in that too-perfect-to-be-true parking spot. It's alright. He just has to make it home, where he can open a bottle of something strong and - "Where do you think you're going?" Tommy perks up, breath hitching. That voice ... It's not possible. But there he is, Sal, standing in front of Tommy, his hands crossed over his chest, expression stern. "Sal?" Tommy asks, confused. "What ... What are you doing here?" "Doesn't matter," Sal says. "Only thing that matters is that you have no idea what will happen if you don't get your ass back inside." "What?" Tommy asks, dumbfounded. "What are you talking about?" "You'll die, idiot," Sal tells him dryly. "Tick tock, Kinard."

#wip games #replies #bucktommy wip

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thisapplepielife · 9 months ago

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Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Sweet Talkin' Lola

"Who's Lola?" Jeff asks, hands resting on the front of his guitar as they wait, and wait, and wait. Band practice is always more waiting than playing, it seems like. Someone is always running late. Someone's instrument needs to be tuned or re-stringed.

Hurry up and wait. That should be their band motto.

"What?" Gareth asks, looking up.

"You're singing under your breath. Who's Lola?"

Gareth seems to be running through what song is stuck in his head, before landing on:

"How the fuck should I know who they wrote it about?" Gareth snaps.

Jeff laughs, and starts plucking out the melody to Sweet Talkin' Woman. Gareth's got the lyrics wrong, and he's not going to squander this opportunity to rib him while they wait for Goodie and Eddie's asses to finally turn up.

Sure, Eddie's got the hookup for weed, and at a discount, but it also makes him late for practice more often than not while he deals ditch weed to the popular jocks and the burnouts, in equal measure.

"Sweet talkin' lover," Jeff sings, very exaggerated, to get his point across.

Gareth bristles, "There's no way he's singing lover instead of Lola. You're wrong."

Jeff's not. He knows he's not. But he's not sure how to prove it.

"Okay. Excuse me while I kiss this guy," Jeff sings, and Gareth throws a stick at him, which Jeff dodges, and it clatters against the concrete. Now Gareth is gonna have to chase it out into the driveway.

Sucker.

Jeff starts playing the guitar intro to Purple Haze, and Gareth pulls a backup drumstick out of thin air, and is right with him, not missing a beat.

He's good. Prone to throwing stupid, cocky, loud fits, just like Eddie, but he's a damn good drummer.

Goodie comes in, and puts the drumstick he must have spotted in the drive, down on the workbench, then immediately gets out his bass, and falls right into the song. They're just a high school garage band, in bumfuck Indiana, but they are good. They play well together, that's for damn sure.

It's chemistry.

And it can't be faked.

The song ends, and Goodie looks at Jeff, "Since when do we play Hendrix? Not that I'm complaining."

"Since Gareth is mishearing lyrics," Jeff teases.

"To Purple Haze?" Goodie asks. "Everybody knows that's a misheard lyric."

"No, not that. To Sweet Talkin' Woman."

"ELO?" Goodie questions, "Lola?"

"Lola," Jeff confirms.

"Fuck you both," Gareth laughs, and starts playing a little fill, as he starts making up a song about Lola on the fly.

They both listen until they have the groove of it enough to join in, and by the time Eddie rolls into the garage, they have the beginnings of a song. A real song. Even if it just started as a joke.

Goddamn.

When they stop, Eddie looks at them, "This new?"

"Yeah. It's about Gareth's girlfriend. Lola," Goodie says.

And Gareth laughs.

"She's a real sweet talker," Jeff adds, and Eddie just looks at them like they are dumbasses.

Which, they kind of are.

But they're having fun, and this is definitely gonna become an inside joke.

"Well, loop me in," Eddie demands, and they do just that.

The Hideout regular gig is what they look forward to all week. It's how they practice playing in front of an audience. Even if that is just a handful of drunks.

It's practice, just like in the garage.

Just in case they ever want to take this show on the road. They talk about it, dream about it, even if that seems sort of impossible most of the time.

They are good for what they are, but Jeff's not sure they're actually good enough to leave the garage, The Hideout, for greener pastures.

They kept their scheduled time for Hellfire on Friday night, wanting to finish it up before Spring Break starts. If they don't, they'll have to wait on Mike to get back from California. So, that means Lucas is gonna miss the final battle. Which sucks, but Eddie has dug in his heels, and there's no challenging that. It'd be a fool's errand.

After, they all pour out into the parking lot of the school, whooping and hollering, celebrating the end of another successful campaign by Eddie.

He's good at what he does, that's for damn sure.

Eddie beat them all out of school, and Jeff heads for the van, trailing Eddie, like he always does, but Eddie holds up his hand, stilling him.

"I have an appointment," Eddie says.

Jeff rolls his eyes. That makes sense, Eddie hurried out of there like his tail was on fire. Jeff knows what that means, what it always means. And unless he wants to sit in the van and wait for Eddie to deal to most of the celebrating basketball team now that the season is over, he better find another ride home.

Gareth will probably take him home, and Jeff hollers at him, motioning, asking with his hands.

Gareth nods, waving him on, as he's standing there with the El Camino door wide open, still talking to Goodie.

Rehashing the night they just had, Jeff's sure.

Jeff looks back at Eddie, "I'm good. Gareth's got me."

And Eddie smiles.

"Band practice still on for Sunday?" Jeff asks.

"Wouldn't miss it," Eddie says, then looks away, and Jeff follows his line of sight, right to Chrissy Cunningham waiting over in the dark, all by herself.

Interesting.

He didn't know she was a customer of Eddie's.

Jeff looks back at Eddie, "The campaign was good, Ed. Thanks."

"It was, wasn't it?" Eddie asks, a glint in his eye.

Jeff nods.

"The next one will be better," Eddie assures, and Jeff doesn't doubt that. Not one bit.

"Looking forward to it," Jeff says, and then looks back at Chrissy. Still there. Not a mirage.

"Better not keep Lola waiting," Jeff teases, and Eddie tosses his head back, cackling.

Then, Eddie squeezes his shoulder, and he's gone.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt nineteen: in the garage #gareth stranger things #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #freak stranger things #corroded coffin fic #ccf day nineteen: in the garage #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 1 year ago

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hi there! im wondering if you have any fics recs for an au where peter doesnt get blipped? or also any OP/insanely strong peter fics you enjoy? i’m fairly new to reading spiderman fics and would love any recs! thanks!! 💖

Hi!! Sorry it took so long to respond. It's been a busy couple of weeks!! But I totally have a few BAMF Peter Parker fics in my bookmarks! And one very good fic where neither Tony nor Peter blipped.

🕸 to fear and to fly by idyllic_dae Rated T

“You’ll come to learn that there’s only one thing worse than having nothing.” Trying to hold onto his fight, Peter shoots back, “Yeah? And what’s that?” “To have nothing, after being able to believe you could have everything.”

The streets are dirty, crowded, and the jagged bumps in the asphalt are hardly comfortable to sleep on. They’re home, though.

Peter is just about finished with New York City. It’s gotten impossibly harder to find even a scrap of food, and what little belongings he does have are unlikely to keep him alive through the winter. And the memories. God, the painful memories here.

So he saves up. Makes a plan to get out of there.

Then, somehow, he accidentally saves Tony fucking Stark from a gang of eight mercenaries, and the majestic plan disintegrates into ash.

The worst part about it, he knows, isn’t even that he met Tony. It’s that Tony met him.

^^ This one is incomplete still but it is SO VERY GOOD.

🕸 Trojan Teenager by Sara (ctrsara) @ctrsara Rated T

Tony, Peter, Happy, and Daren make a trip to California during Peter's Spring Break, both to get some business done at SI-Malibu, and to look into another hotspot for the human trafficking ring they've been trying to break down. As it often does when self-sacrificial Spider-kids are involved, things go a little off the rails.

^^ This one is part of a series but can be read alone. However, I highly recommend the whole series! It's crazy creative and super well-written.

🕸 turn back the clock (and I'll try again in the morning) by madasthesea @madasthesea Rated T

Peter gets stuck in a time loop. In it, he lives through some of his worst nightmares, only to wake up that morning and have no one remember. He needs Tony to help him get through.

And if that isn't bad enough, his identity is revealed over and over, every day.

^^ This fic has me on the edge of my seat every time I read it, I swear

🕸 The Worst Field Trip by mak5258 Rated G

Peter's kidnapping (Before You Go, chapter 40) from other POVs.

^^ This is part of a much larger series but can be read alone. It's sooo good! If you're looking for a longer read, it's parent fic, Before You Go , is also great.

🕸Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spider by Bergen Rated T

“Tony fucking Stark,” Clint says, and he points at the black smoke. “Did you blow up that base, you piece of shit?” “Absolutely not. I almost got blown up with it.” Clint is not alone. A few yards behind him, a scrawny figure halts and squints at Tony from underneath a frayed baseball cap. Sunken eyes. Dressed in a black undershirt and cargo pants. Can’t be older than eighteen. “What are you doing here?” Clint jerks his head at the boy behind him. “SHIELD mission. Extracting a hostage.” Tony glances back at the teenager, whose face has now morphed into something entirely impassive. “He seems thrilled about his rescue.” — Tony is roped into a mission to transport a teenager to safety. But when things go south, it soon becomes more and more puzzling who the teenager is and what ‘safety’ means for him.

^^ Oh my goodness. This one has a super strong stoic Peter, who also manages to (eventually) be so super soft. I love everything by the writer, honestly.

🕸 Peter Protection Protocol by JAWorley Rated T

"The hell?" Knife guy breathes. He looks at Tony, and then back at the suit. Ned can hear the wheels spinning in his mind. If I have Iron Man, then who is in the suit?

There’s silence for a second, then another. Everyone waits with baited breath until Peter’s tinny voice comes out of the suit. “Give me back my Tony.”

Peter’s class barely makes it in the door to Stark Industries for their field trip when they find themselves in a hostage situation. Peter and Ned know exactly what they have to do to save Mr. Stark from the bad guys. A short fic that’s supposed to be fun and easy to read. Not crack, just fun. Minor angst near the end.

^^ This author has SO MANY super fun and amazing fics, but this one definitely fits the BAMF Peter Parker bill.

Insane Mistakes Everybody Makes by Fluencca Rated T

The Avengers' kids are kidnapped for leverage and ransom. Tony tries to find them, while Peter--who somehow is part of this mess--tries to keep the kids safe.

^^ Love this one so much. It has all the amazing BAMF Peter.

🕸 Survivor's Guide to The Galaxy by fanfic1892 Rated T

Space rock crunched under Peter’s armor-clad feet and he dropped his hand from his eyes, turning to Tony. "Mister Stark," he said softly. "What do we do now?”

The question was entirely reasonable, Tony supposed, but being the one expected to answer it was like an infinity gauntlet punch to the gut. (Now there was a unit of measurement he could submit to the CGPM.)

Or: In a billion-to-one cosmic fluke, Tony and Peter both survive the snap and are left alone on Titan with an alien spaceship and no plan in sight. Peter’s presence brings Tony to make a tough call: diverting their course away from Earth in search of food and fuel. With the galaxy in shambles and no clear route home, the two survivors must carve out a path of their own somewhere in the great infinity.

^^ This is one of my favorite fics of all time.

As usual, I could go on for days with fics I love and would love to share with others. But we'll stop here for now. lol. And look! I didn't even self-promote this time! Thank you so much for asking. Don't forget to leave kudos and comments!!

#irondad fic rec #irondad fic recs #bamf peter parker #peter parker #tony stark #marvel #spider-man #iron man #mcu #irondad and spiderson #fic rec list #must read!#some o my favorite stories

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sweethoneyrose83 · 5 months ago

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Escaping the Hotel Writing prompts:

1. The Vanishing Guests

Every room in the hotel was booked solid last night, but when morning comes, the entire place is eerily empty. The guests have vanished, leaving behind half-eaten meals, unfinished drinks, and items strewn about as if they left in a hurry. You're one of the few still here, but you have no memory of what happened. The exits are all sealed, and strange symbols have appeared on the walls overnight.

Prompt: What happened to the guests, and how do you escape before you meet the same fate?

2. The Time Loop Trap

You check into an opulent old hotel for a quick overnight stay, but after falling asleep, you wake up to the exact same moment you checked in. Every attempt to leave the hotel resets the loop. As you explore, you notice small changes in the staff’s behavior and unsettling messages written on mirrors and walls that weren't there before.

Prompt: Can you find the trigger that resets the loop and break free, or are you doomed to relive the same day forever?

3. Locked Floors

The hotel’s elevators are supposed to go to every floor, but whenever you try to reach the ground floor, you’re taken to a floor that doesn’t exist on the directory. Here, you find dilapidated hallways, flickering lights, and strange sounds coming from the shadows. The only way out is to find the key to the hidden service elevator that’s rumored to lead to freedom.

Prompt: What horrors or secrets lurk on the forbidden floors, and how do you find the key to escape?

4. The Haunted Hotel Suite

A late-night storm forces you to take refuge in an old, Victorian-style hotel. The moment you check into your room, you notice everything is vintage, almost too perfectly preserved. As the night goes on, the wallpaper begins to peel away to reveal bloodstains, whispers echo through the vents, and the hotel's history begins to haunt you in terrifying visions. The staff denies any strange occurrences, but your room door won’t open.

Prompt: What dark secrets does your room hold, and what price will you have to pay to escape it?

5. Guests of the Dead

You’re attending a lavish hotel party, but halfway through the night, the lights go out. When they come back on, the once-bustling ballroom is now decrepit and covered in cobwebs. The other guests are now pale, skeletal figures dressed in antique clothes, their eyes glowing a sickly green. The staff insists everything is normal, but you’re the only one who seems to notice the change.

Prompt: How do you convince the other partygoers to help you escape before you become one of the undead?

6. The Unending Hallway

While searching for your room, you find yourself stuck in an impossibly long hallway that twists and turns, with each door leading back to where you started. Strange shadows dart across your vision, and the sound of footsteps grows closer with each passing minute. The hotel’s intercom crackles with distorted messages urging you to find the “exit door.”

Prompt: What’s the secret of the unending hallway, and can you find the true exit before whatever’s chasing you catches up?

7. The Disappearing Staff

During a winter storm, you’re stranded at a remote mountain hotel. At first, everything seems normal, but one by one, the staff and guests begin to disappear. The hotel manager claims they’ve simply “checked out,” but you know that’s impossible given the blocked roads and snowed-in conditions. You start to notice strange smells and hear odd noises coming from the basement.

Prompt: What’s happening to the staff, and will you be next if you don’t uncover the truth in time?

8. The Mirror Maze

You wake up in a luxurious hotel suite, but the only exit leads to a labyrinth of mirror-lined hallways. The reflections in the mirrors show a version of yourself that seems to be trying to communicate with you—or is it trying to deceive you? Occasionally, you see other figures trapped in the mirrors, silently pleading for help.

Prompt: Can you decipher the messages in the reflections and find your way out of the mirror maze before you become one of its trapped souls?

9. The Sinister Concierge

The hotel concierge is charming, helpful, and… far too invested in keeping you at the hotel. The moment you mention checking out, he subtly changes the topic or offers you “complimentary” services you never requested. When you finally insist on leaving, you realize that none of the exits work, and the phone lines are dead.

Prompt: What dark agenda does the concierge have, and can you find a way to escape his grip before it’s too late?

10. The Room That Shouldn't Exist

While exploring the hotel, you stumble upon a door that isn’t on the map. The number on it is faded, and it’s heavily chained, with warnings not to enter. But when you try to walk away, the door appears around every corner you turn. Something from inside is whispering your name, promising to reveal “the truth.”

Prompt: Do you dare enter the forbidden room, and what will you find inside that’s worth being kept a secret?

#creative writing #writing life #on writing #writing #writer #writing exercise #writing inspiration #writing ideas #story prompts #writing prompt #prompts list

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sae-something · 5 months ago

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Wanted to make a little update post of some sort but it turned a little long. I also write about the mdsa stuffs so consider this a heads up.

This week I've just been feeling broken and exhausted. Some new flashback or something popped up in therapy on monday. If it holds truth, it could mean that the mdsa stuff went on a lot longer than I thought til now. I shouldn't be as surprised because there had been flashes and fears before, but I just really, really wanted to suppress that and be like "okay, if it happened at all, at least it was only for like two years". That suddenly stretched to the possibility of a period of (at least) 5 years.

Had online A today and just cried, a lot. The little detective part (trying to understand, make sense) is bleeding through a lot. Also a lot of grief about A being so kind and caring - today some part asked her, 'Why was it so hard for mom to be nice to be when it seems so easy for you to do?'. I immediately added, 'Well, of course, maybe it's not easy for you at all, I don't know'. But A made it very clear that it is easy for her to care about me.

And then she offered to check her email 'once or twice' next week (during her week off), so we can 'keep a bit of connection'. I checked if she's really sure I won't ruin her vacation, but she insisted. It really means a lot to me, though I don't know that I'd have words.

At some point some part cried out, 'I'm just so scared of having to go back [to mom] when the year is over' (the no contact year technically ends late january). Haven't really had time yet to talk through the details with A, but I really don't feel like reconnecting with my parents. This part talked a little bit about 'being bad' for not going back, and A said something about how that probably explains a bit about why (as a kid) I kept going back to her, kept looking for her.

I interrupted and said, well, I feel the same way now - I fear people might have understood me taking a break, but making it more definite will make people go 'how can a daughter do that, abandon her mother like that'. I cried and said how scared I am A will think that. She replied something along the lines of, 'When we talk about this more I will tell you that I don't think you are ready to go reconnect yet, there is so much still happening, you are not at a point where you can hold yourself and connect with her'.

We didn't really dive into it but it meant a lot to me that she said that. It brings some space and relief. And I know we'll talk about it more over the coming weeks & months as that anniversary comes up.

Anyway. This has been a bit of an update. I've just been in pain (?body memories?) and exhausted. I would never tell anyone else this, but the little detective part is just constantly repeating "but if this happened at 8, I would have remembered, 8 is so old! You don't just forget things when you're 8!". I just can't understand it. I feel like lots of strong little magnets that I just can't push together. Everything is bouncing off of each other and nothing connects.

And also the actual content of the ?flashback? from monday just feels disgusting and impossible. Nothing, like, new or extreme or anything. Just, how could she? How could she stand next to my bed and stroke my head and chat about my day, while also, while also there was a hand beneath the blanket doing things that were not happening, things that were not felt, things that were not real. But it hurt and it hurt and it hurt and it hurt. How could she have been like that? How can someone do that? Act so nice and have a monster hand doing monster things?

(I know those are dumb questions. I know many people all over the world do all kinds of horrifying things to little kids. The questions are just stuck on a loop inside my brain...)

I'm so tired. Gonna have to fix some food now and then just flop on the couch.

#personal #therapy schmerapy #mdsa

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thehypnone · 2 years ago

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Why Have You Waited So Long? Chapter 2

Chapter 1

WC: 2380

Tags: Suicidal Thoughts, Near Death Experience, Hurt/Comfort

Phantom was getting worse. The solitude had made him sick, he knew it would happen. It wasn’t in ghoul’s nature to be alone, his system was protesting, begging Phantom to get help.

Notes: due to a popular demand I present part two including some comfort. just a bit though because I do love angst, OKAY???

Read chapter 2 under the cut or on AO3.

Phantom was getting worse.

The solitude had made him sick, he knew it would happen. It wasn’t in ghoul’s nature to be alone, his system was protesting, begging Phantom to get help.

It wasn’t only his quintessence sounding alarms, trying to hold his small body from breaking with all its might. He saw himself rotting, he was getting paler and paler every day, skinnier too, his eyes were dull, barely any colour left in them, the tips of his horns were cracking and breaking off, crumbling into dust. Every day he woke up with more of it on his pillows.

He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, so he broke it, pieces of shattering glass assaulting his fist only adding to the sick satisfaction.

He had been barely leaving his room the whole break between European and American tours, only when absolutely needed. To get some food, once every two weeks or so. To sulk through additional rehearsals, pretending he was alive and well.

He wasn’t neither alive nor well.

Phantom felt bad about getting sick, at the beginning, thinking about how his sickness could ruin the rest of the tour. But then he thought Aether could get back, it would be an emergency. Did any of the people that would be met with problems after Phantom’s death deserve him feeling bad about it?

He wanted to say no, but he could never really hate anyone, so he told himself yes. Yes, he was awful for getting sick and yes, he’d be awful for dying, only causing problems.

But Phantom did survive the break. Somehow.

That was even worse than if he wouldn't, now he had to go and act like he was fine not only in front of himself or a few ghouls and Papa, no, now he had to fool thousands.

He didn’t think he’d manage.

He‘d been quiet during their journey, on the bus, in the hotel. He was too tired to speak and no one would listen to him anyway.

The day before the first show Phantom slept as much as possible, forcing his own quintessence to all but knock himself unconscious. He stumbled through preparations for the Ritual, through the soundcheck.

He squeezed out some quintessence that was not concentrated on keeping him alive to give himself somewhat of an energy boost, just before they stepped on stage. He never had any issues with handling the Fantomen, but that night it weighed him down impossibly more.

He just needed to get through the show, he could do that. He’d certainly try.

The lights were so bright. Too bright, even with the darkened lenses of their helmets.

It was too loud, the crowd, the music.

Phantom’s clothes, even being looser than originally because of how much weight he had lost, were somehow too tight, too constricting.

He couldn’t breathe, he felt impossible weight crushing his chest.

It hurt so much.

His head was pounding, vision blurry, the sound of blood pumping in his ears nauseating.

Phantom was sure that was it.

He felt awful for it. He couldn’t possibly be such an attention whore to drop dead in the middle of a performance, could he? He had to hold on, he didn’t want to ruin anyone’s night.

The show seemed to last forever, he thought it’d never end. That it’d be his punishment for being such a failure - being stuck in an endless loop of misery and agonising pain.

But it did end, finally.

Phantom doesn’t really remember chucking a bunch of picks at the audience, getting gifts from the fans, the bows. It was easier to zone out, not remember.

Because he’d have to remember the burning of a hand gripping his own, too.

He remembers getting off stage, tumbling down a few small steps and the thud his helmet made as it collided with the floor.

He made it through that one show… but no more.

“Lus, I- I can’t b- believe, how did we-” Phantom heard someone sobbing. Aurora, he thought, but he couldn’t make a sense out of her choked out words.

Wait.

Where was he?

“I know, sweetheart,” it had to be Cumulus now. Her voice also sounded… wet. “We failed, all of us, but don’t take it out on yourself.”

Phantom was… he was warm? Why was he warm, it was always so cold, what-

“Shhh, don’t freak out,” someone whispered, right into his ear. He panicked, suddenly too warm, too hot, melting. His only instinct was to run away, clawing at what tried to hold him in place. Or who.

Phantom scrambled away and bumped into something that was probably a corner of... wherever he was. He curled into a tight ball, tail wrapped around his body protectively and hissed. He didn’t want to look up, look around. He didn’t want to know where he was, who he was with.

He just wanted to be gone. He didn’t want to hurt anymore.

“Phantom, hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re safe,” was it Swiss? It sounded like Swiss.

Why was saying that, why was he lying?

Phantom lifted his head, just a bit, just enough to peek from behind his arms. It was Swiss.

“Do you want me to get someone else? One of the girls? Rain?” he felt himself shaking his head. It looked like they were in the back lounge of their tour bus, it was turned into a big nest. The multi ghoul was crouching by one end of it, Phantom curled in the corner furthest away from him.

That warmth… was he- was Swiss touching him?

“Breathe, bug, deep breaths,” he said and Phantom was so tired, so weak, he couldn’t not obey. He tried to breathe, sharp inhales followed by shaky exhales, over and over again.

Swiss was watching him like a hawk, barely even blinking. Phantom tried to curl into himself more, to hide from that intense stare, the attention he was not used to.

It seemed like ages had passed before the quintessence ghoul could be considered even relatively calm. Swiss didn’t move, only offered soothing words from time to time.

Phantom wanted to hate him, hate them all, but he was so exhausted and so lonely, he clinged to every single sound that escaped Swiss’ mouth like a lifeline. He was finally getting something, he finally got noticed. He had to treasure what he was getting now, it’d be over too quickly.

“There you go,” Swiss sighed, all sad. Why was he so sad? Did Phantom ruin the show after all? “Are you back with me?”

Phantom nodded. Was he, really?

“Okay, good. Can I come closer?” He thought about it for a moment? Did he want Swiss to get closer? To touch him? He thought he wanted nothing more in the world but what if it… what if it hurt? “I’ll be gentle, I promise, bug. I need you to trust me.”

Phantom nodded.

Swiss smiled softly, even though his eyes were betraying his sadness. He slowly crawled over to the quintessence ghoul, one hand carefully reaching out. It hovered over Phantom’s knee, Swiss searching for any signs of hesitation on the other’s side. He let it gently fall when he found none.

Phantom flinched, there was no way to prevent that, but soon sobbed in something like… relief.

“Good?” Swiss asked and received a nod in return. “More? Would you like a hug?”

“P- please,” he choked out, his throat tight, eyes burning with tears.

The multi ghoul slowly but surely wrapped his strong arms around Phantom’s shaking form, covering him whole with his body. He immediately went limp, wails tearing out of his throat as Swiss held him. “That’s it, let it out. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, bug. I’ve got you now, I won’t leave.”

Phantom could barely breathe, he was choking on tears, body convulsing in Swiss’ grip as he clinged to the multi ghoul like he’d turn to dust and disappear and Phantom would never be held again.

“Everything will be okay, I won’t leave you. I won’t let it get bad again, I’ve got you,” Swiss whispered, rocking them back and forth, doing his best to release some of his own quintessence into the room, even if now crying himself.

How could he, all of them, be so blind, ignorant, awful? How did they miss all the signs, how did they let it get so bad? Why didn’t they take care of him from the beginning? What the fuck was wrong with them?

“N- no, you- you can’t give me h- hope, I can’t hope anymore,” Phantom cried and despite his words clutched Swiss tighter.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I-” Swiss sniffled, “there’s nothing I can do to fix it but-”

“Y- you can’t just- just decide to fix it n- now," the quintessence ghoul’s wails only increased in volume. How did they miss how broken he was? “It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know, fuck, I’m so sorry, lemme- please let me try to make it up to you, let me try to make it better, please, Phantom, I’m begging you, let me try.”

“You j- just feel bad I nearly flipped, it- it’s not real,” his words felt like a punch in the guts but Swiss knew how justified it was. He failed so fucking bad.

“No, it’s not- I mean, of course I feel fucking bad, you have no idea how bad. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to feel loved, it’s not- fuck, I don’t know what to say,” Swiss’ voice cracked. He thought that if Phantom really did die, he’d go right after him. How did they fail so badly?

“Just… just try, but I-” Phantom was hyperventilating, there was no breath left in his lungs. He hoped it wouldn’t get wasted by the things he wanted to say. “‘M not gonna survive another one, I’m fuckin’ stupid but I- it needs to be real, Swiss. I can’t take any more.”

“Baby… oh, sweetheart,” the multi ghoul sobbed, “I promise you, I’ve got you, ‘m not gonna let anything happen to you, you won’t be alone ever again, fuck, I’m so, so, sorry.”

Phantom didn’t have any more words, neither did Swiss. He could apologise over and over again but it made no sense. He cradled the quintessence ghoul in his arms, tears and snot soaking into each other’s clothes, held him for what seemed like hours. It probably was.

Swiss didn’t know when Phantom blacked out, he thought he did too. He remembers Rain staring down at them from the bus’ corridor with tears flowing down his own cheeks. The multi ghoul nodded at them with a pleading look, silently asking him to join.

Rain got down on his knees and crawled over to Phantom and Swiss, helping the latter to rearrange them to somewhat of a more comfortable position. They then glued themself to Phantom’s back, squeezing the ghoul between him and Swiss.

Some time later they heard socked feet shuffling in their direction. Dewdrop.

Even before he fully laid down behind Rain, Mountain appeared in the doorway, and it didn’t take much for the three ghoulettes to make their way over to the nest too.

They should all fall onto their knees before Phantom and beg him for forgiveness, but he didn’t want that. He may be stupid for still allowing himself that tiny droplet of hope but all he wanted now was love. He wanted, needed, to be loved.

He truly wouldn’t survive more heartbreak.

Fans seemed to enjoy Phantom getting more lively, more confident on stage, finally allowing himself some more… intimate interactions with his bandmates. Finally being allowed touch.

But he couldn’t not feel like all the attention he was now getting was just a way for the ghouls to not feel bad about nearly letting him die. He was fine if he didn’t think about it, but at the end of the day he was just a stray animal that had stumbled into their home and they took him in out of pity, to not feel like they were awful people, to not feel guilty.

It would surely end when they got back to the Abbey, he had to soak all the comfort on the road if he wanted to have any chances at living on.

Phantom couldn’t believe it was real when they did return and he was still being seen. He was being invited for cuddles, for movie nights, game nights.

Never left behind, anymore. Never being forgotten.

Touch didn’t burn anymore, it warmed him both outside and inside in the best possible way.

He was… happier. Way happier, even though he felt like a fraud, like a mismatched puzzle piece forcefully shoved among the others. He caught himself thinking about it all ending, a lot. It was a reasonable fear with how it used to be.

Months later, years, when he’d be alone, he’d be vulnerable to the words the vile voice in the back of his head would throw at him. And he would believe them.

He’d remember his first year on earth and realise his pack had never actually cared for him, they were still pretending, still feeling guilty about his past loneliness, the sickness they missed until it was nearly too late.

But now every time Phantom cries someone hears him.

They don’t let him feel alone, don’t let him be cold.

“What’s on your mind, bug?” Swiss stopped his racing train of thoughts. Phantom burrowed further into his side. Rain, glued to his back, mumbled something incoherent into his neck.

“Nothing,” the quintessence ghoul sighed.

“You sure? Everything okay?” It was no wonder Swiss worried, they all did now. They were all afraid of doing something wrong, of breaking Phantom again.

“Would you mind shutting up? Tryin’ to sleep here,” Dew snarled with no real venom from Swiss’ other side.

“Let them be,” Mountain scolded him, tightening his hold on the fire ghoul.

“I’m sure,” Phantom whispered into Swiss’ chest and let his eyes slip shut again.

His pack would never forgive themselves for neglecting him like they did, they’d keep doing everything in their power to make him feel loved, cared for, cared about.

And maybe in some time Phantom would stop doubting it was real.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #hypnone writes #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #swiss ghoul #angst #hurt/comfort #fanfiction

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