#just so you can feel at home with some people you’ve never truly Known

[dexalyys]

thinking i might be more active on tumblr… i feel generally a lot safer here (primarily due to the number of npd-positive spaces i’ve found), and also because twitter is kinda just a rancid cesspool for the chronically online. i’m going to lose my mind if i hear one more thing about celebrity cancellations or drama or whatever the fuck people care about these days. never become a content creator as a minor holy shit it will ruin your brain and scar you for life i could not be more serious. more ranting in the tags idk i need to go take a shower

[atxxzist]

sweetest lies | c.s (03)

prev // series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 7.7k

warning: none but lmk

you didn't want to go home because you knew that you'd have to face your sister.

look her in the eyes and see those very lips that yunho kissed and those hands that he probably held on more than one occasions, the wound still too fresh that it all still hurts.

but you didn't think you'd run smack into her before you could even pass the entrance, stopping in your steps immediately with surprised eyes similar to hers, the both of you swallowing down the same time as the air turn an awkward one.

you're about to just walk past her, the day from work leaving you tired and not in the mood for another long conversation about the topic, when your sister musters up the courage to let out a soft, "can we please talk?"

the tone aggravating you more than anything; how she can still sound so sweet and worried after what she's put you through.

you huff and merely roll your eyes, absolutely refusing to look at her although you know it's silly and petty--you being the older one but holding a grudge like no other, so much more less mature than her.

"i don't know what else is there to talk about," you respond, trying your very best to sound annoyed.

but she continues to make you feel worse with an even sweeter tone, "i'm sorry. i really am." and you can already picture the pearls in her eyes and pout on her lips despite still facing the other way.

"i know you like yunho. i do. but..." he's too handsome and charming; too sweet and kind that she also can't help but fall for him. she would never intend to steal him from you if he didn't return the sentiment.

"but he likes you too," you finish for her, something shifting in you that makes you finally look her in the eyes. "i get it. what am i gonna do? you're two grown consenting adults so i'll get over it."

you didn't even think such words could ever come out your mouth, but for the first time sounding surprisingly selfless because maybe talking to san did helped out a little.

there's a silence after that you're sure has marked the end of the topic, striving a step forward when her voice stops you again.

"we're planning on telling mom and dad and yunho's parents over dinner..." she says, delivery timid like she's just the slightest scared of your reaction.

you gulp down the knot, mumbling a dry, "good luck with that." and sliding past her.

you start seeing how truly mundane your life is once the person it used to revolve around is no longer there.

how, it’s a continuous cycle of work and coming home to a big empty house most days and watching reruns of shows until you’re bored out of your mind.

which is how you wind up at a co-worker’s house party, the young woman from the office next to you going by the name of dahyun kindly asking after a conversation with your boss about the paperworks regarding the transfer.

she joined the firm a few months after you but you’ve always known her to be outgoing and a people’s person, recalling the girl’s familiarity with everyone from the floor her second week of work.

it wasn’t like you had anything better to do, so you accepted the invitation and saved the following day for a night of fun, or at least you hoped so.

dahyun had said it’s just gonna be a regular house party; none of that crazy frat bullshit with the chance of someone under 20 attending, so it’s just gonna be chill and relaxing.

fives minutes into your arrival and it’s not too bad but you already find yourself hiding in a corner despite recognizing a few faces from the same working floor.

“if you’re gonna be here, you should at least try and have some fun.”

the familiar sounding voice from behind makes you quirk a brow, barely looking over your shoulder to see, probably the least expected person standing with amusement in his expression.

“seonghwa?” you say in disbelief, your body naturally following your curiosity to stand before him. “the fuck you doing here?”

“attending the party, isn’t that obvious?” he quips, continuing to close the gap before stopping with just enough space.

you scoff and roll your eyes, the sight bringing a smirk onto seonghwa’s lips.

“shut up. you know what i mean.”

“dahyun’s a friend,” he says casually, the answer making you squint.

“seriously? hongjoong and now you?” the complaint rolling off like it’s seonghwa’s fault. you can only cross your arms and sulk.

you can’t even recall the last time you actually saw seonghwa. it must’ve been your graduation or one last coincidental meeting… you don’t remember. it’s been that long.

“yeah, cause you have better things to do?” he pokes fun at the very obvious fact you came alone. “where’s that jeong boy? you know, the one that always got you on a leash.”

between hongjoong and seonghwa, seonghwa’s always been the more calm and level-headed of the two; being the voice of reason when you and hongjoong would lose it.

but on the occasion when he’d just let it go and be snarky, seonghwa could really pull a nerve.

“is that all people associate me with?” you have the audacity to click your tongue in annoyance and scoff like you didn’t do it to yourself.

seonghwa snickers.

“oh i’m sorry. it was just my most recent memory of you,” he says cheekily. voice calm but you know there’s hidden animosity underneath.

he never explicitly said whose side he took, but it was obvious from how he treated you the same as hongjoong did. it only made sense because they’ve known each other before you even came along.

you never fault him, knowing it mostly had to do with your own fuck-ups.

“hmm,” you hum, tone setting into the same sarcastic and dry one he has. “well, it’s nice catching up and all but i don't feel like reminiscing the past, so if you’ll excuse me.”

because you can admit your wrongdoings and also be both embarrassed about it, attempting to brush past him when his speaking voice stops you in track.

“hey, i was just trying to find something to talk about after all these years,” he says, half chuckling and staring at you from the opposite side now that you’ve managed to make it past him.

you snicker lowly.

“what?” you quirk a corner of your lips, continuing with amusement in your voice, “then you’re gonna say sorry? or expect me to?”

he shrugs.

"that's your choice."

but his body language now shifting, that playful look no longer in his eyes or tone, it's almost scary how fast it happened.

the next few seconds is a silent stare off, the only sound is the party music in the background and the slight beating of your heart at the ominous delivery.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying... your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

seonghwa thinks you have too much pride; the same thing you believe to be keeping you intact is gonna be your ultimate downfall because even when you're clearly wrong or you know you're wrong, you never say it.

you're one to keep it bubbled inside and carry the guilt just because you think you should be unbreakable at all times. it's such an unrealistic standard you've set for yourself.

you raise a brow at that, tilting your head in confusion.

"i know how to say sorry," you tell him sternly, attempting to convince him as much as you are to yourself.

“i’m uhm… i’m sorry,” you utter lowly, sounding and appearing ashamed by the way your fingers fiddle with each other at your front, san almost can’t believe it.

“pardon?”

“i’m sorry, about this morning.”

it's beyond comprehension how san must've been the first person you've genuinely apologized to after going so many years of the word kept to yourself.

it must've been the absolute humiliation and loneliness that day that really got to you, breaking you down until you were so vulnerable with nothing but the choice to fold in front of the one person you felt you could still confide in.

san being that person is also beyond what you can explain.

but seonghwa only merely puffs and crosses his arms.

"i just think it would be great if we could be friends again one day," he says, the ominous dropping and voice turning soft and reminiscing again that it makes your eyes go wide before you see a smile turn up on his lips.

"if you ever want to reach out to me or hongjoong again, you know how to find us."

he leaves his last words of the night opened and vague, disappearing off with one last smile before he's out of your sight, leaving you with much to think about--just exactly as he intended.

there's only so much excuses to make or places to be after work just because you don't want to be there for dinner, knowing it's the day both yunho and your sister are gonna tell your parents and his the good news.

know that they're all gonna react with surprise and be so happy for them, erupting in cheers and congratulatory words that the two children they've been rooting for the longest time has finally gotten together.

there really isn't a lot, that you just sucked it up and stayed the few extra hours overtime to make up for all the instances you've slacked off, even starting on work saved for the following day, hoping it's long enough to just miss the dinner.

and just enough it is, you return right as the table's just about to be cleared, the chitters and chatters around loud enough to drown the opening and shutting of the front door with yunho the only one catching your presence standing in the hall.

"they were really happy, yeah..." he says awkwardly, standing before you in the cold chilly air of the backyard.

you really didn't want to talk about it anymore, the subject like beating a dead horse at this point. but yunho had approached you so cautiously and calmly, something genuine in his action that you couldn't say no when he asked to talk for one last time.

"hmm," you merely hum, really not made for comforting or encouraging. most of the anger already dissipated although the hurt's still there, you can't bring yourself to not feel even the slightest happy for him, even if the smallest percentage because you saw the biggest smile ever on him back at dinner.

you contemplate on what to say because yes, you're still hurt and feeling betrayed, but it's not like you can hold it over his head forever. he isn't some stranger you can easily avoid.

he's yunho and you're just gonna have to get over it; not just for his sake but also for yours just so you can feel a little more at peace and move on.

"i'm sorry," he suddenly let out, your head snapping from the ground and to his guilt-ridden eyes.

because though he still stands by what he said, not a single word a lie, the few days apart also allowed him to think outside of the box--especially from your perspective.

how selfish he really was from the start, playing along when he was being dishonest the entire time, and how much pain he could've saved everyone if he hadn't been such a coward.

if he hadn't wanted the best of both worlds and knew he would lose you in some way if you found out how he actually feels.

you have to blink a few times, feeling like a lost puppy under yunho's apologetic gaze because you honestly believe that in comparison, you have so much more to be sorry for.

and as if he could read your mind; your expression speaking for itself because you have a certain look of bafflement or aloofness whenever you feel guilty.

you won't ever say outright that you're wrong, but your body language always gave it out.

it was one of the very first traits he picked up from being around you, having seen it for himself at the starting age of twelve when you pushed a much younger san to his injury and cried--not because you got yelled at by your parents but because you felt bad.

and how distracted you were at the movies the entire time after your fight with hongjoong because you confessed to yunho a few days later that you were being a shitty friend.

you have such a way of dealing with your emotions, he wishes for there to be an outlet for you to deal with them in a healthy and accepting manner.

one that doesn't depend on him or anything else for all the wrong reasons.

"i'm sorry," he says again, eyes now softer but still sincere. "i know i already said this last time but i really got carried away and couldn't finish. but i truly am sorry. i should've told you sooner. i should've never given you any sort of false hope, and i should've just been honest from the start."

he's sure he's out of breath when he finishes, just waiting for you to now say something in return because despite all the ups and downs and shortcomings, you're the one who's been with him through most of his lowest points and he's so grateful for that.

he wouldn't want to lose you over this.

you stay quiet for a few seconds more, a mental battle in your head just so you'll be able to form something coherent when you do speak.

"we both just weren't right for each other," you say, pausing briefly, "in that way... at least."

because yunho hid things from you and you were so in your head you were convinced he was in love with you at one point, always looking at everything through a rose-coloured glass but now able to see for yourself once it cracked, just how destined it was to fail from the start.

"sorry," he mumbles, low and head still hanging in shame, you can't help the dry chuckle that falls from your lips.

"you don't have to keep telling me you're sorry. like what i told minjeong: i'll get over it."

he picks his head up from the more cheery tone, the smallest smile forming on your lips that takes him by surprise because of the illusion it gives off; that you were able to come to terms with it so fast, but he knows you and knows it's all just a facade.

nonetheless, he nods, gulping silently to pass a comment.

"i hope you're taking care of yourself."

you smile, turning your back on him and crossing your arms to stare up into the stars in the nightsky who's currently the witness to the end of your 'relationship' with the boy you've loved your whole life.

"i've considered transferring work. it's not set in stone yet, but i did talked to my boss and he said he'd help me look for an opening if i'm interested."

you think it will be good if you can seek your own independence for once, unable to think of a better time than this one.

and though you can't see yunho, you can tell he's intrigued by how his question squeaks slightly when asking.

"where would you be transferring?"

"japan," you answer, once again facing him. "it's different, but close enough where i don't have to feel like i'm halfway across the world. my boss said i have about two months-ish to make up my mind."

plus, japanese is the only other language you're fluent in. the country a similar but new enough experience and the true testimony to how you'll be, away from the grasp of your parents.

"i see," yunho replies, nodding in understanding; so much to say but at the same time unable to say anything. he wouldn't ever want to hear someone he's close to plans on moving away, but he's almost proud of you for taking that next step.

"feel free to call me up any time if you need help," he adds, a soft smile gracing his features that makes the moment so bittersweet. you wish you have the guts to hate yunho, but you really can't after all he's done for you.

you nod lightly, at the same time allowing yourself to enjoy the breeze and calm silence before letting all your guards down.

"yunho..." you call his name almost timidly, the boy responding that immediate second.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying… your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

"i'm sorry," you finally tell him, to wide and surprised eyes--unsurprisingly.

"i'm sorry for putting so much pressure and baggage on you. i also should've asked about your feelings from the very beginning. i shouldn't have just... assumed."

yunho knows it's the sincerest form of apology without the need to say a lot. from the nervous timbre to the guilt in your eyes, and even the way you start fiddling with your fingers.

he only snickers, much to your initial mixed reaction until you start warming up to it as well, the low but very real giggle leaving you putting a smile on yunho's face.

"apology accepted," he says.

you allow another giggle before cutting it short and looking at him through your blinking lashes.

"if you guys have went to this extent, then i hope you'll treat her right, jeong yunho."

you leave the night at that, a sting in your chest but you know that soon enough, you'll be relieved of it and you won't even think about him anymore.

it's after sitting down for a few minutes that you get a text from san, the funny coincidence that you were just talking about the transfer with your boss as well.

san: yunho told me

san: it's true you're gonna be leaving for japan?

you honestly can't recall how san even got your number. it must've been something you did drunkenly or he must've asked for it from yunho. but for sure, you did not give it to him willingly.

y/n: he really be snitching, huh

san: so it's true ☹️

you roll your eyes and try preventing even the smallest smirk. you haven't seen the man ever since that day and now is when he decides to reach out again.

y/n: maybe 🤷

san: 😔

san: just when we were starting to get along too

y/n: lol. you'll be fine.

shaking your head, you put your phone down to return to work, thinking to yourself there's no way san's actually serious because you're sure even if you did move halfway across the world, he would barely notice you're gone.

ten minutes of silence from your phone and you're also sure he's given up on the act--when your notification buzzes again.

san: ☹️ thought you weren't gonna run away

y/n: i'm not

y/n: i just want to do something different

san: if you say so

san: you free this evening?

y/n: i get off work in about 3 hours

san: wanna do something? 🙂

y/n: well aren't you a changed man 🙃

san: i thought it was nice the other day and i just figured you might need a distraction

you have to admit the fact you were taken aback a little; in a surprisingly good and touching way that san would care about you so much as to consider the after effect of what have happened.

y/n: if you're up for it 🤷 not like i have anything better after work

san: awesome! i'll see you then 😉

--

it's not everyday that you go waltzing into a guy's place; if at all, actually, because you've ever only graced the presence of the house next door because unlike san, yunho never had the urge to get his own place or be away from the watchful eyes of his parents.

it only takes two knocks in total for the door to come apart with san standing before it, a smile on his face and every body language welcoming.

"that was fast," you comment, walking past him to get inside.

"i was waiting," he says, calm and relaxed. "you took a lot longer than you said you would."

you shrug and plop yourself down on the couch, head snapping his way to reply.

"i had to get out of my work outfit."

he acknowledges it with a nod before seating himself next to you, his phone sitting on the coffee table in front of you gone unnoticed until you see him pick it up.

"what to order?" he scrolls through the delivery app, the same time you quirk a brow.

"stew sounds really good right now," you say.

"soft tofu stew?"

"that's fine. but make it spicy."

you weren't sure what you guys were gonna be doing once you came over, but he had just said to hang out and you thought any form of entertainment was better than none.

"any drinks?" he asks, after placing the order and getting up to walk over to the fridge.

"got any sodas?"

"i got some coke."

"that'll do."

he returns with two bottles, setting it on the table with a smirk stickered on his face, you have to reframe from rolling your eyes.

"what? no alcohol tonight?" he teases, his back falling onto the couch with hands behind his head.

"not in the mood," you reply, straight and simple.

"fair enough," he mumbles.

you let your eyes wander for a few more seconds before asking, "so, what's the plan?"

he gets up to sit straight and look you in the eyes.

"i was thinking a movie, video games, or we can just talk over food."

you hum with straighten lips, nodding and making yourself at home when it's your turn to fall back on the couch.

"anything's fine," you tell him, patting at the material under you and adding, "great couch by the way."

"yeah. it cost a fortune."

"good thing that wasn't a problem," you jab lightheartedly, because you always have wondered what the hell san does all day, besides the very obvious fact that he lives off the wealth of his parents and doesn't have to worry about anything when it comes to money... at least.

"i know what you're thinking," he says, not reactive of any kind.

"no but seriously, what do you do all day?" you ask, genuinely curious and interested this time.

he just quirks his lips, responding in the most lax tone, "enjoying life and doing what anyone in their 20s would?"

you scoff and shake your head.

you really do wish to be as untroubled and carefree as san is. the way he deals with and confronts everything as if there isn't a single thing to lose.

“it definitely bothered me at first, but i didn’t see why i should be losing sleep over it. me and yunho are two very different people after all who does our own things. i’m proud of what he’s achieved so far, and he’s always had my back when needed.”

you almost can't help but to have the tiniest respect for him in that regard.

"good to know." you giggle. "but what's the plan after?"

"working on it. but not really in the hurry to rush it or anything."

you nod courtly at that, another sinking thought about how similar, yet different the two of you really are.

growing up, you've never really paid much attention to san, always writing him off as annoying and obnoxious, but when left with no choice but to face him on a deeper level, you can't help but to notice the stark differences despite relating to him more than yunho.

"and you... are you really moving? like forreal?" he says, tone a soft worried that you almost want to believe he would be sad about you leaving... being this adamant and all.

"yeah," you answer, the disappointment befalling his expression completely flying over your radar. "forreal."

"but why?" he pushes.

you shrug, everything about you relaxed--as opposed to the boy standing across as he tries to digest the very big possibility of you going away, and most likely for a long time.

"i told you i wanted to travel."

"that's moving to a whole different country," he states the obvious, much to a laughter from you as the uneasiness on him only becomes more transparent.

you laugh some more, going on to say, "don't tell me you're actually gonna be sad?" your lips forming a frown after to tease him, and for the very first time, you think san might've blushed a little.

he opens his mouth as you watch curiously, but the moment shortly disrupted by the sound of san's phone going off.

"delivery will be here in 10 minutes," he tells you still holding the device in his hand before he tosses it aside.

"i also just want to try being on my own for a while," you bring the topic back into discussion when it seems like he isn't gonna answer the question.

you add, "if i do get moved, it will be on my own accord and everything will be from my own pockets... not my parents or anyone else. boss said i have about two months and i most likely will have to train the replacement but i think it's all gonna be worth it."

you're unable to read into san's reaction, silence filling the air until he finally speaks again.

"if you want to learn to be on your own, why don't you just get a place first? you know, instead of moving across the country. as someone in the current position, it's pretty nice if i say so myself."

your lips draw into a thin line, not because he's wrong but because you've never actually thought of that. you pretty much did just jumped ship into the next big step.

"i've uh... i didn't think of that," you mumble, the words cracking a smile on san's face before a snicker rolls out.

"jesus, y/n. a bit dramatic aren't you?"

"shut up," you hiss.

as the night goes on, any doubts and worries are long forgotten when the chatters with san would go on even after the food's arrival, both chewing and talking at the same time like you're never gonna run out of topics.

the eating soon turns into a search for something to watch while the two of you squabble about anything and everything, forgetting what the hell you're even fighting him about and being surprised you could even get this worked up without the help of alcohol.

and after you're both finally worn out from the long night; the foods on the coffee table now empty and dry and the tv running for far too long, you help clean the place up when it seems he's fallen asleep and quietly make your way out of the condo shortly after.

tuesday 4:32 p.m.

san: how about this one? looks really nice and is kind of close to my place 🙂

san: *attachment*

y/n: that looks way too fancy and expensive

y/n: i just want something that's enough for one person

it's impressive; the fact san even entertained the idea of leaving everything you've already got in mind to settle for something else, but even more so that you're even considering it.

getting a place of your own and learning to live on yourself would be a lot more doable than moving across the sea and away from everyone and everything you've grown up with.

you suppose it's not a bad idea. you're just not sure if it's the right one.

san: you're not gonna find anything if you're gonna be this picky 🙄

y/n: i'm just looking

y/n: if i'm really gonna stay, i'd do the search myself

san: 😢

you don't even realize how san starts weaving into your daily life and just integrating himself into it; whether through small, mindless texts, or bigger ones like actually inviting you out or over to his place (more frequently, at least).

wednesday 1:20 p.m.

san: what time do you finish work today

y/n: i always finish at 6

san: wanna come over? i got a game we can play 🙂

y/n: it better not that stupid truth or dare

san: ☹️

san: it's not

san: it's truth or dare spin the bottle

y/n: 🥱

san won't admit how fast he came at the sound of the first knock, and you also won't admit that despite him looking very much the same, there's something different about him lately.

something you can't pinpoint but it's almost as if he's gotten more attractive somehow even though you've never really cared about any of that.

"did you wear that to work?" he comments on your outfit as you make way past him and settling inside.

"yes," you answer dryly, tone soon overturning. "what? you think i was gonna get pretty?" you smirk.

he shrugs, mumbling a "maybe" that you quietly let pass to take off your shoes.

"wanna see a few places i've looked up?" he beams, going over to the laptop that was on the kitchen counter and running over to you on the couch with it.

"why not," you mumble, scooting closer, shoulder bumping into his nonchalantly.

you watch him scroll through the abundance of luxurious condos alike his, opting to raise your brow and turn to him.

"why are they all high-profile and in gangnam?" you question.

"pfft," he scoffs, facing you head on, standing the closest he's ever been to you in a long while and remarking, "it's not like you can't afford it. come on, y/n."

"i can't." you move away from him. "if i even get a place, it's gonna be with my own savings, not my parents. i definitely can't afford a place like these. can we please look at something a little less flashy?"

he shakes his head and eventually changes the area, but an hour into the search and you're still not satisfied. the prices are either not doable or the layouts and amenities aren't to your heart's content.

"let's continue this another day," you sigh out, throwing your head back and groaning as san chuckles.

"fine," he gives in, shutting the laptop and moving it out of sight. "you're so picky."

"well you got to be. i'm sure you didn't pick this place out in a day," you say at the same time you look around.

on your own, there's no way you'd ever be able to get anything like this.

"and you don't think it's nice?"

"are you kidding?" you say in disbelief. "it's amazing. if i had the money, it might as well be my dream place. but it's okay. i can also settle for much less as long as it accommodates all my needs."

san can't help but laugh, because he thinks you're both the snazziest person he's ever met, but also the most tame, it's a bit uncharacteristic of someone who grew up wealthy all her life.

"fair enough," he says, standing up abruptly to go grab at an empty beer bottle also on the counter which you're sure he most likely prepared for, given his next set of words.

"how about spin the bottle but no dares. we can only ask questions and the person has to answer truthfully." he places it on the coffee table.

you snap to him at that with something uneasy in your eyes, prompting a comment from him.

"you scared?" he tease.

"what? no," you blow.

"then what are we waiting for?" san doesn't hesitate with one of his hands already on the bottle but you have to stop him in the process to ask one more question.

"what kind of questions though?"

it takes him maybe a second for a light smirk to crawl out of him and with a shrug, telling you, "any."

you eye the bottle on the table anxiously as it circles and clinks; not afraid of the idea of the game but more so that you're playing with san and he's gonna ask the wildest shit.

fortunately, san shoots himself in the foot.

"oh fuck, it's me."

it's your turn to smirk, letting out an almost sarcastic, "yeah."

"knock yourself out. i'm an open book."

you roll your eyes because you know he is, which is why trying to come up with something that will even faze him is gonna be a challenge.

"most embarrassing thing you have done at a party?"

he scoffs it off in amusement, like he can't believe you're even asking that.

"i thought you could do worse, y/n. but sure."

he hesitates and hums for a few seconds more before answering, "got high as fuck and almost kissed wooyoung."

a dry snicker actually escapes from your lips at the confession.

"yeah i always suspected you guys had a thing for each other."

"please don't," he says in pure disgust. "i love wooyoung forreal but no amount of high can get me to kiss the man."

you laugh, now actually the one to initiate the spin because you think it can turn out fun. you think.

and thankfully, it's not you that have to answer a question, again.

"wow," san only silently curses the double misfortunate.

"how many people have you slept with?" you blurt, bold and straightforward, san even slightly taken aback.

"don't ask questions that will break your heart."

"tsk." you roll your eyes. "you could sleep with the entire population of earth and i wouldn't give a shit."

"not even the tiniest bit?" he plays on in that voice you hate because it's always when he's trying to flirt with you.

"i'd give the tiniest shit about everyone else because poor them."

"sharp," he retracts, the amusement all over his face. "but to answer your question, maybe eight? ten? to be honest, i've lost count."

"good to know," you reply nonchalantly, nodding for him to spin the bottle this time, but you know it's only so long before your luck eventually runs out, and so it does.

"ha," he says in victory, the top of the bottle pointing at you.

"i'll go easy, don't worry just yet," he teases annoyingly, you almost want to knock your foot into his.

"what did you think of me when we first met?"

you quirk your lips and pretend to think although you already know the answer.

"well, i thought you were gonna be sweet, but that was until i got to actually know you. then you were just annoying and a pervert."

he bursts out in genuine laughter and yeah, you think he's cute and endearing like this but 95% of the time, he's getting on your nerves.

the game continues on with a back and forth of innocent enough questions; just laughing and scoffing off the ridiculousness, and you're starting to think he might spare you, until the next one turns your eyes a dark one.

"what is it about yunho that made you like him so much?"

and again, you've already stated so many times why you like him. his kindness. his attitude. the way he presents himself. the way he treats you. but if you have to pick one.

"it just seems as if he accepted me for who i am. i don't know."

the way the atmosphere shifts is scary; both of the smiles on your lips wiped and replaced by unreadable expressions as san quiets without a reply, you have to be the one to speak again.

"and you... w-why are you helping me?" you ask him.

"huh?" he repeats just so there's no mistake.

"we don't even like each other and i pretty much treat you like shit but you still seem rather concerned about my wellbeing for whatever reason."

it has gotten so silent by now, you can hear san swallowing.

"you're the one who always says you don't like me. i never said i don't like you."

it's your turn to swallow, staring back at him with nervous eyes because you're not sure how to take the statement just now or what exactly he really means.

"i just thought the feeling was mutual," you mumble, shrugging lightly.

"no. i think you just didn't care enough to ask me," he says with a dry chuckle because he's right and even you know it. your mind at the time too occupied with his brother instead.

"so like, you really don't want me to leave?" you take the opportunity to tease him, a tone on you almost unrecognizable that you think even made san a bit nervous and shy.

"you could say that," he talks lowly, on the verge of stuttering. "i've known you almost my whole life."

"and if i did?" you ask, voice turning a more serious one as the words make an etch in san's heart. it hurts to even think of the possibility.

"then i would be really upset."

you watch his eyes and lips go soft, something so genuine and sincere in his response that makes you just freeze up before breaking the tension with a forced snicker.

"you still have some time to change my mind," you encourage, because you wish for there to be bigger reasons to stay so you won't regret the could of, even if san has to be that reason.

some might call it healing, some might call it a rebound if that even applies at all, but san successfully weaves himself into your life like a routine that you're no longer fazed by a morning text or even a goodnight one.

the way he'd just check up on you during work or call during the weekends to ask how you're doing and if you're up for something together.

it's a bit pathetic he's pretty much your only friend (and even that's a reach) at this point, but you genuinely enjoy his company.

he listens well, is fun to be around, and is almost like a life-long friend who's been missing your whole life.

but while those are the ups of being with san, there's also the downs--such as the long list of girls that'd constantly ring his phone or send him a text while the two of you are together, and while that isn't any of your business, that doesn't stop the few doubts that manages to plague your mind.

are you interrupting anything? does it make you a bitch for hanging with him when he has other girls lined up? does all of this even mean anything when you could very much just be one of them?

that maybe even if there's a possibility, you could never fully give and commit yourself to someone like san because it doesn't seem like he's ready to settle for anyone.

he haven't ever had a relationship that lasted more than a few months and you haven't ever known him to have less than two option on the table.

which might be why you were so much more attracted to yunho, because in comparison, yunho seemed like he would give away his heart and soul for just you.

but you know that, though. you knew that's how san is. you shouldn't have expected anything else, but you still can't help but to feel a strange, unfamiliar sense of loathing when he's distracted by another girl.

"i talked to the landlord a few days ago and she said if i wanted to see the apartment for myself, she would be more than happy to show me," you tell san over a late night eat out; the restaurant about to close in an hour but you're sure he's not listening because his head snaps to the text he got just now.

he still attempts to sound like it's the current topic holding his attention, which you have to give him credits for.

"that's good," he shortly says, fingers fast to type something on his phone before pushing it away. "so how many more days left again?"

"about two weeks, give or take," you respond, poking at your fries with the fork.

two weeks before you'll have to make the ultimate choice to leave or stay.

it's been that long, time just flying before your very eyes to the point where yunho's presence lingering around the house for the sole purpose of your sister almost no longer does an effect to you.

"wow. already?"

"yeah."

san offers to pay for the meal and drive you home instead of the usual catching a movie at his place before the actual end of the night and it's not like you're gonna fight him on it.

he's not your boyfriend and he definitely doesn't have any obligations to follow through any routines or whatever, so why are you all of a sudden feeling so tense about it?

tense and bitter about the fact that after he drives you home, there's a likely chance there's gonna be another girl at his place.

you think you're losing it.

you had let yourself indulge more and more into the possibility of staying, which was how you found the place that you could practically call ideal.

though it's only one bedroom, the modern but warm-toned style of the complex as a whole, as well as the location and pretty much everything else is convenient and accommodates all your needs.

when you had finally set a time and meeting with the landlord, you fell in love even harder in person because the second she opened the door to the place, it was like you knew this is it.

you think it can work out. you think you can see a future in this place; in this city still. and you have been much brighter and happier lately, even telling your boss the following day that there's a big chance you're gonna change your mind about the move given time is creeping up.

you had sent a text to san so excited because you want to tell him in person, every day the chance of you actually staying increasing by the second and he had told you he'd be available tomorrow night.

despite the conflicts swirling in your stomach a week ago, san had made up for it by being attentive as usual and making you feel like he really cares about you that the occasional rings and texts not from you were starting to become bearable.

after all, what does he owe you?

you're content with just having someone to talk and share your day with. you think you can live with that.

but you didn't expect nor think that all it'd take for the doubts to settle in again is to actually face the reality of your situation, making your way to san's place as promised and seeing a familiar face on the way in.

long hair and with a frame you've definitely seen before, it's hard to ignore the sensation she manages to conjure by just merely passing you.

“why don’t you ask the one person that would actually know where he is? or are you too good for that, too?”

you squint, confused, until he nods his head another direction and you follow, landing right into the view of the kitchen and to someone you know all too well just from the back.

his hands on some poor girl’s waist and lips running along with hers as her grip tightened at his disheveled hair, his body pressing her forward onto the counter, the both of them making out like there won’t be a tomorrow.

“no thanks,” you dismiss, managing to reframe from an eyeroll, pushing past hongjoong but not before you catch the smirk on him.

it wasn't the first time you saw her with san, because if it was, your body wouldn't have recognized her so easily as if she's a threat, replacing all the excitement and hope with nothing but old and plain insecurities.

then it's as if everything was a mistake.

choosing to stay because of san and with nothing but the hope that it will all work out... instead of going away on your own for some time and learning to really be independent.

your whole life, you've already been nothing but emotionally dependent on someone else, looking to them as a source of support, and you've realized that this time, it isn't any different.

you've just moved from yunho to san... and you didn't even like san for the longest time.

so how long before it will hit you that staying was a mistake; and especially that choosing to stay because of san was gonna be the biggest one of them all.

you have the tendency to catch feelings way too fast, and even if not romantic which you won't admit in this case (even if it might be), you react strongly to it and the feeling is consuming.

because how long before san will leave you the way yunho did?

everything may seem good for now but they will all meet the same ending. and to think of everything in perspective this way, you know you're not meant to stay.

your parents, yunho and your sister, san...

you don't feel ready for any of them currently, your life stuck at a point where you're not moving. and so you just turn back around and head home.

you think long and hard just to be sure this is what you want; then you think of how to tell your boss tomorrow, and about an hour later, you finally get a text from san.

san: you still coming? you said you have something to tell me

y/n: something came up sorry

y/n: i was just gonna tell you that i've made up my mind and i think i'm gonna go to japan

a/n: i am truly sorry for having been gone a while only to come back with crumbs, but i hope y'all enjoyed this mess & will anticipate it finally coming to an end the following chapter <3 lmk if i missed anyone on the taglist cuz i have not touched it in 4ever fr

taglist: @freeandrealme @shingene @cookiechristie @softie00 @crimson-mia @hexheathen @lixpixstix @atinytease @turtash @moonseonghwa @kkayfan @curryramyeon @justineasian @sannie-pudding @itsokaytobedumb00 @nerdy-kimchi @fannyxmh @acciocriativity @mel-the-mad-hatter @eastleighsblog @diorwoo @devilsmatches @kyume02 @distvrbia @wonwowzers @endeav0rsb1tch @sannwa @brown88 @sangiluvem @eburneon @hotteokhatyu @yeosangsbiceps @sankatchu @lynnsqueendom @harusoraa @ad0rechuu @interweab @revehosh @byunniebaekhyunnie @nabi-sannie @gugggu6gvai @rockstarsanie @shakalakaboomboo @yeosangsbbg @yawnzshit @avantalem @lelaleleb @mountiiny @arinyyy @svintsandghosts @yoongiworshiper @raineadlr @tunaasan @chickenscoups @nevieatiny

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part five.

There’s a part of you that wants to be spiteful and decline his call━ to give him even a minuscule taste of what you’ve been experiencing. It’s hard to just forget days worth of lunches spent locked away in a bathroom stall crying over his radio silence, and if he could feel even a fragment of that desperate helplessness then the fiercely vindictive part of you would be satiated.

At the same time, you also feel like you’ve been shocked back to life. Just seeing his name and catching a glimpse of the grinning selfie he set as his contact image all those years ago, makes you feel like a piece of home has been returned to you. You know deep down that there was never really any other option than to answer.

So you do.

You get halfway through saying his name when he interrupts you━ “Garrett Ward? Of all the people you could date, you choose Garrett Ward?”

The venom in his tone stuns you into silence. He sounds angry━ really, truly, genuinely angry.

Lando scoffs, “I mean, don’t you have standards?”

You’d known there must’ve been a reason for the unresponsiveness, and an ignorant part of you had hoped the unanswered texts and calls were a byproduct of his busy vacationing. You’d wanted to believe that when he called he’d have some wild story of getting lost in the jungles of Bali without signal, or that he’d lost his phone in the wilderness of the Australian Outback.

Ignoring the posts on Instagram proving otherwise was easy enough when you’d been limiting your own online activity to avoid the never-ending hatred splashed across your feed.

Deep down, however, you recognized the avoidance for what it was from the very beginning.

You know you should feel justified in being angry when he has no right to be so judgmental of you and your choices━ if he gets to be petty then so do you━ but the combination of Garrett’s surprise visit and the amendment to your agreement, and now the sudden vehemence of Lando’s own disdainful words have thrown you off kilter. It’s like you’ve taken a step off the worn path and now you can’t tell which way is back to the trail. Everywhere you turn it’s just another metaphorical boot looking to kick you back down.

You want so badly to be angry, and to rage, and shout right back at Lando that he doesn’t know the first thing about what you’ve had to sacrifice to get where you are━ that he doesn’t get to shame you for being with Garrett Ward if it means protecting what you’ve worked your entire life for. But it’s hard to feel confident when so little of your life is actually in your own control, and when someone behind the scenes can take everything you’ve worked so hard for and throw it away with the right words to the right people it makes you feel small and insignificant.

Nothing you do matters if it can so easily be erased.

So instead of yelling right back that Lando needs to watch his mouth and quit spewing shit about things he knows nothing about, you sit there and take it.

“Do you even know what they’re saying about you online?” He keeps talking. “They’re calling you a cheap whore, and a gold digger because why else would anyone in their right mind be with a lowlife like Garrett Ward? Seriously, of all the people, you pick the prick of all pricks?”

Beneath the frustration in his voice you can hear the slur of intoxication, and with anyone else it would give you hope that maybe they don’t mean what all they’re saying━ that the drunkenness is just encouraging him to go on a tangent and exacerbating the teasing he usually takes part in━ except you know that Lando’s drunk words are often his sober thoughts. They’re the things he wouldn’t normally let himself say for any number of reasons, but the liquid courage of whatever he’s had to drink has removed the filter his anxiety normally keeps in place and everything’s coming out whether he wants it to or not.

“I mean, do you know what this could do to your reputation? The comments are just filled with people tearing you apart and saying anyone could probably have their way with you because you’re a slut.”

Everything he’s saying now is what he believes.

“Obviously I know you’re not a slut, and the people we work with know you’re not a slut, but nobody else knows you the way I do━” he clears his throat. “We do,” he corrects. “Which means they see those comments about you sleeping with every athlete you work with, and that you’ve only got your job by fucking your way to the top, and they believe them. And I don’t want them to believe them, because you’re not a slut.”

He groans, “But Garrett Ward? Garrett fucking Ward? Like, were you drunk or something when he asked you out? Because nobody in their right mind would soberly agree to be Garrett Ward’s girlfriend.”

Honestly, you wish you would’ve been drunk when you’d succumbed to Garrett’s threats. Maybe it would’ve softened the blow a bit, or at least given you something to blame it all on━ remove the shame by passing the responsibility off onto a bottle of wine, a few shots, maybe a martini or two.

“I thought you were smarter than that,” he scoffs, continuing with his vitriolic rant. “You of all people should know that getting involved with athletes is risky, but especially guys with reputations like his. He’s been caught by the paps going to three different girls’ houses in a single night. Is that the type of guy you wanna associate with?”

You’d thought you would be okay with being berated and yelled at if it just meant getting to hear his voice again, but you’ve realized by now that there’s probably nothing more painful than having Lando be genuinely upset with you.

He pretends to be upset a lot, when he’s joking around. He once spent an entire weekend talking to you exclusively by using Carlos as a middle-man when you’d posted a picture of him for April Fools that hadn’t been the most flattering, and he’d only broken at the end when you mentioned you’d be sure to get his good side, to which he’d chimed in predictably that all sides were his good sides.

Apart from a handful of rare moments that are few and far between, you don’t think you’ve ever actually seen Lando genuinely mad━ and never at you specifically.

It makes you miserable.

And the reason why it makes you miserable makes you even more miserable.

You aren’t sure when it happened━ can’t place it exactly, the change was so gradual━ but at some point in time, the feelings you felt for Lando stopped being platonic and started being more. More than what friends feel for each other. More than what friends should feel for each other, especially friends that work together in an industry where everything exposed to the public eye is scrutinized and studied beneath a microscope to be criticized and torn apart.

When the realization hit you, however, that the butterflies in your stomach, the giddiness in your heart, and the overall sudden behavior change to that of a girl with a schoolyard crush was all for Lando, you shoved it down and locked it away with the thought that if you didn’t acknowledge the feelings, then they might eventually disappear as so many of your other crushes had in the past.

The only issue was that you still worked alongside him and he was still himself, and instead of the feelings fading away with time, they just got stronger. Stronger, more obvious, and harder for you to ignore.

But for the sake of your friendship and your career, you did. You had to.

You kept it all hidden away and played the part of the perfect friend, content that if you couldn’t have him in the way you wanted then at least you could stay by his side in the way you already were. You’d get over it eventually━ you would have to. He’d find someone else, and that would be the end of it.

It doesn’t make things any easier, though.

There’s a voice that sounds suspiciously like Daniel in the background on Lando’s end, but whatever he’s saying is too quiet for you to understand. All you gather is that whatever it is, Lando disagrees, and then the call drops and you’re plunged back into the unsettlingly loud quietness of your office.

There’s a different man’s voice echoing in your head now, and you’re loathe to say it, but you wish it was still Garrett’s.

Just a few hours later and you’ve made it to the end of the day, but it’s still a few hours that you’ve had to sit and stew with your emotions. The frustration and hurt has simmered low in the pit of your stomach and now it burns high, transformed into rage. It feels like a fire curling up within you━ blazing at your insides, leaving everything it can reach singed with the heat of your anger.

If Lando wants to play this game, you will play along.

You’ve played a role for years now━ hidden your real feelings behind the kind of feelings that are appropriate for friends to have, said the things friends are supposed to say, did the things friends are supposed to do. You’re not a stranger to wearing a facade, and this thing you have with Garrett is just another role you’ve been reluctant to accept.

But if Garrett gets something out of this agreement with you, then you might as well get something out of it for yourself as well.

If he wants you to be a good little girlfriend, then that’s what you’ll be, and if it gets on Lando’s nerves then even better.

You find Garrett in the physio’s office, scrolling through his phone with a pack of ice resting on his foot. There’s no one else around, so you figure he’s at the tail end of his appointment and is just following the last of the instructions given to him.

He looks up when you open the door, and raises an eyebrow.

“Can I help you?”

“Actually, you can,” you answer. “I’ll play along with this little plan of yours, like, really play along, be a good girlfriend, the whole shebang. But I want something out of it.”

He scoffs, “ More than the reputation of being a footballer’s girlfriend?”

“If I’m giving my all, then so will you.” You say instead of answering, taking pride in the way his brows dip down low and his eyes narrow.

Your phone pings in your pocket, and you spare a glance down at it.

“Sorry about Lando,” says Daniel’s text. “He was drunk and didn’t know what he was saying. Don’t listen to him.”

You swipe out of it without answering. What’s done is done. Neither of you can go back.

When you look back up at Garrett, he’s appraising you thoughtfully, and then he nods.

“Deal.”

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━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings

━━ a/n: this part took so long to write, partly because i was struggling with just how i wanted to do it and then partly because i have just been so busy the past few days and didn't have time to work on it. the last little bit with garrett was actually written on my phone at a club earlier, so if it seems rushed or out of place, that's why, please forgive me, i was just did not want to work on this part any more 🥲

[tht0nesimp]

indulgent Drabble…

Idea: so have any of you guys seen those AU things where it’s like being a Yandere is a normal thing, so if you’ve seen season four you know about the wrong timeline things so like what if they ended up in one of those or this was one or something, this is probably not very well written…

tw: spoilers but not like specific instances just like information,Yandere bcs…it’s my blog, kidnapping, non consensual…everything?, normalized stuff idefk , Five is inspired by a Yandere five fic I read once I won’t even lie

thinking of them all having their little darlings and how they treat them >.<

Luther’s darling is getting it probably some of the best, he pays, and he really wants them to love him! Really! He just…don’t get mad when he breaks all your stuff, he knows that you had an ex and that the object was important, but you can’t be mad! People see you two and are probably a little off put because likely you are dwarfed by him unless your a body builder or something, he doesn’t mind, just please don’t make him do anything….:(

Diego and a little spitfire, they’re likely someone Hellbent on fighting it, clawing and biting. Hair frazzled, likely to have a hole or tear in they're clothes—he doesn’t really mind, even when he has to drag you into the mansion, the others having some level of understanding of what he’s going through because…they’ve all done it, to varying degrees of lengths and extremities. He never felt healthy love before and it’s damn sure his dad don’t love ‘em so he truly doesn’t understand why you can’t just accept love?

Allison who makes sure her precious little mannequin is well known as hers, people envy you, an amazing actor with enough money to last a lifetime?! You might be able to run off and find a closet to huddle up in at home, but she won’t be patient with misbehavior in front of the media, you will find yourself on the wrong side of a chain if you try anything. Probably not a big fan of introducing you to people personally, she loves the flashy couples stuff; at least 2 dozen roses might make up for it? Right?

Klaus is barely making it, his other siblings likely pay for and/or babysit for him. He doesn’t snap very often like his siblings, he sees you as an angel! But, not a person. Truly, I think not only would the being forced to be around a very active addict but he won’t let you do anything outside of a hobby or two! He rarely leaves you alone, and to be honest he probably uses a chain or restraints all the time because even if he can come back, he’s not physically the strongest guy—but past that, he’s always eager to help you with bathing or eating or baking or drawing or writing or drinking or meditating or relaxing or sleeping or making the bed or cleaning up or driving or going outside(ofc with him, can’t have his little martyr running around! What if someone recognizes you as his and and and the debt collectors collect you!?) or any possible task, he’ll learn to cook or bake so you don’t have to! Just ignore the small white grains on his credit card….please! He won’t get angry commonly, if ever, but in the very rare chance he gets angry it’s best to just shut up and try not to make the voice begging him to tie you back up any louder.

Five and the little doll he carries around, always looking lost and glazed over, or maybe a girl who is eerily like him, either way, he’s dressing them up in whatever he wants. He likely drugs them pretty consistently, it makes him feel good to have someone who will thank him when he takes care of them, even if they don’t know what’s going on whatsoever. His siblings are surprised at the ice cream dates and picnics he sets up, people smile at him when he goes to get you a milkshake, the guy behind the bar laughing when five pours a little packet of powder into your drink and stirs it—happily accepting the man’s offer to top up your whipped cream, so you don’t get distressed about it—all in all, atleast his darling will never have to do anything for themselves…ever again

Viktor happily plays instruments for you, learning your favorites so he can serenade and impress you. He tries to be as accommodating as possible, so patient and okay with your panic that he succeeds in comforting you. He’ll even let you help him at the bar once you get settled in, people find it adorable when you and him work together you don’t really do anything

They probably don’t have playdates very often, but the most to least well behaved would probably go

Viktors darling—Viktors humanity pays off, and his darling likely comes to terms pretty quickly, asking him nicely for things and even letting him touch them willingly!

Luther’s darling—All in all, they probably don’t have all too much to complain about. They’re awkward, but the darling isn’t clawing at him or anything

Allison’s darling—no cameras? Her darling is probably playing a Nintendo switch on a couch somewhere in the mansion, avoiding the wackos

fives darling—He’s trying, and so are they, but they’re a little out of it most of the time. I won’t give them credit for behaving because they don’t even know they’re doing something good by clinging to torso they wake up on every morning or by not biting the hand that feeds them dinner every night

Klaus Darling—Trying to run like all hell, but klaus just pulls them into whatever room has been set up for the meetup and wraps a friendly arm around them for the rest of the event

Diego’s darling—Biting at him, breaking things, all hell will break loose and he will be chuckling at his siblings as his darling tries to stab him with a fork

—

Maybe I should write more in depth personal series about it??? Who would yall wanna see first??? All of them?? SEASON 4 IS STUPID AND I HATE IT >:(

[dancermk]

HELLO MY FELLOW TRAVELERS!

I, like many viewers, have been completely entranced by Hawk and Tim’s love story in Fellow Travelers. As a mature queer person, this show has been very emotional, and I am deeply invested. (I WILL riot if Tim doesn’t get to die in Hawk’s arms, and know that he is, and has always been, loved by Hawk.) But I digress.

Something that I have been fascinated by are the differing opinions that have surfaced about the characters, especially Hawk. I’m not looking for any arguments here, everyone is entitled to their opinion, and this is simply mine. To me, Hawk falls hard and fast for Tim. He breaks all his own rules for Tim - they topple over like a house of cards.

When we are introduced to Hawk, he’s cold and heartless with the men he hooks up with - they are nothing more than a body to fulfil his sexual needs and desires. He doesn’t do repeats and he doesn’t bring them home. But Tim, he instantly begins returning to, gets him a job, then allows him into his own apartment, etc. When Tim pushes back, Hawk relents further, letting him in emotionally, sharing parts of his past, crossing lines by introducing him to others in his circle, and so on.

Hawk is a traumatised man, carrying guilt and anger and shame, and a bucket load of fear! Yes, he has some internalised homophobia, but interestingly, he’s also extremely righteous about his homosexuality -and I don’t believe he thinks being gay is wrong in any way. (His response to his father is indicative of this).

I can personally say that I’ve never thought it was wrong to be queer, yet I spent much of my life hiding who I was and feeling shame. It’s an odd thing! Perhaps it is that the shame forms purely from what is outside of us, while what is inside of us can love another person of the same sex, knowing it is right and pure. Perhaps these contradictions between self and society are what causes so much pain and conflict?

But back to Hawk. Hawk is undoubtedly most affected by his teenage first love experience. A love that he fucked up through his own fears (fear for many men is unacceptable and a sign of weakness), and now carries the burden of believing he is responsible for their death. Hawk doesn’t allow himself to love again, until Tim. And we see many times throughout the show how much Hawk fears losing Tim. And in the end he’ll have to face that fear. I think that, in part, not attempting to have a life with Tim, is also fuelled by his fear of fucking it up and losing Tim - so it’s easier to just not attempt it! In episode 7, when he loses his son, part of that spiral is Hawk recognising that he can’t really prevent loss, and he wasted his life trying to be something he’s not - still losing his child and Tim along with it.

But Hawk is a survivor! And no one has the right to hate or judge him for it. I don’t think some young people truly understand what it feels like to live in a world where who you love can put you in jail, and destroy your life. I grew up in the 70s/80s and my experiences were bad enough, but I try so very hard to think about what it was like before that! When being queer was a crime and a mental illness! That’s pure terror! And for Hawk, he chose to survive the best way he knew how, and he wasn’t able to change because that’s fucking hard when all you’ve known is living in constant ‘fight or flight,’ and when have chronic trauma and experience collective trauma.

I think in episode 8 we’ll finally get to see Hawk grow - I certainly hope so - because he deserves to be free. Our beautiful Skippy has been free for some time, and while we mourn for the cruelty of a world that would take such a truly decent man, I am glad he got to live freely. Being closeted is the worst kind of suffering- a compartmentalised and fragmented existence where you are never truly whole, and therefore can never be the best version of yourself.

Before I go, I just wanted to also talk about being in a closeted relationship-which I experienced in my youth. I think that Hawk and Tim’s intense and toxic and exquisitely beautiful relationship, in part, arises from this. Because two closeted people in love live their relationship in secret, in a bubble, only in certain rooms, with none of the outside world reflected back at them. It becomes the two of you against the world. It’s so insular. Hawk and Tim literally live their 1950s relationship within two rooms - their apartments. All their memories are held within those walls. And it only belongs to them. They know each in ways that no other living soul does. It’s all-consuming and often unhealthy, but also stupidly romantic.

Anyway, sorry for this long winded post that no one will read and is likely full of grammatical errors because I’m tired! This atheist is praying we get everything we need from episode 8! Acceptance, forgiveness, understanding resolution, healing and a whole lot of love! ❤️

Cheers queers! 🏳️‍🌈

PS Matt and Johnny are exquisite on and off screen and I am so thankful to them for bringing these characters and this story into our lives!

[bartxnhood]

another life | c.b

colby brock x fem!ghost!reader

summary: on a certain investigation, colby finds himself oddly intrigued by the mystery surrounding your passing. so, he tries his best to help you move on.

warnings: sadness, angst, murder, bittersweet ending.

a/n: hi loves ! long time no see ! i haven’t been writing like i usually do, to lack of inspiration and motivation. i hope this can make up for it. also my first time writing for colby, so i hope i did okay ! if you’d like to see more let me know !! also this was slightly inspired by corpse bride especially the scene at the end. iykyk. enjoy <3 feedback is appreciated !

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2022 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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the thought of the idea of something after life always intrigued you. what happened to someone after passing? or did your life begin again after death? but after passing, you were hit with the reality that you’d be bound to the house you died in; and living the same thing almost every single time.

after a couple years the constant investigation it was getting very annoying. at first, you’d interact the best you could but when they’d take it too far and taunt you, you’d slowly begin to stop giving them what they want. they’d always seem to be disappointed and often left not believing. you’ve come to understand the why humans think, trying to prove the existence of the after life. you know if someone truly believed they wouldn’t be so aggressive.

no one had toured the house in what felt like a long time. on one night in particular you heard commotion outside, so, you peeked out the curtains seeing a group of people, around your age. they all took a step back and panned what you had come to recognize as a camera towards the house. your eyes caught a blonde girl as she scanned the windows but her eyes landed on you.

as the sam panned the camera on the victorian era home, amanda noticed you. her eyes locking with yours before you vanished into the blackness behind you. she thought about mentioning your presence but she decided to wait until they were inside.

they were greeted with a guild which you were also familiar with. they had stopped in first two rooms downstairs before coming up to the third floor.

the guide lead them up the spiral staircase into the mist anticipated room of the night. your bedroom.

“now, you may notice the energy shifting in this room, it’s much darker and heavier.” she started “the mystery surrounding y/ns death is still pretty much unsolved” she stood at the foot of your bed. “people suspect she died of a broken heart, but there is also a theory that she was murdered by her sister to get with her fiancé” you stood in the corner behind her, she stepped to the side showing a photograph of the man. sam zoomed in on the photo while the guide continued to give misleading details about your story. “most people don’t believe this story to be true as there is no evidence of a murder happening. so, we may never know.”

amanda pipes up, “is she known to be active?.” the guide shakes her head, “when we first opened for investigations she was our most popular ghost and was the most active one but eventually she just stopped. so, people would often leave disappointed. some people would try to taunt her, but it only made her not want to interact anymore.”

the group nodded. “y/n, if you’re here we want you to know we aren’t here to harm you, we’d love to talk to you more tonight if you’re down.” colby said, looking around the room, hoping you’d be listening. “lets check out the rest of the house shall we?” sam asked and they all nodded.

you watched as the group returned to your bedroom, setting up the camera before going over their last investigation.

“the energy is so different from the rest of the house.” nate started, filing in behind the blonde boy. “i feel just this heaviness on my chest. like i could cry” he added. colby nodded in agreement, “yeah, i feel like that earlier. it’s very overwhelming.”

if you still had a heart you knew it would ache, watching colby, the taller and darker headed man walk around in your bedroom admiring what used to be yours. you watched the man who reminded you of the man who you once loved with all of your heart.

“the guide said everything here is all original to y/n, correct?” sam nodded, reaching into his bag for the two flashlights. “yes, everything here is the same as it was when she was alive.”

your felt especially sad, spectating these people in your area, saying everything they could but you were still stuck in silence.

you knew the blonde girl could see you but it had been so long since someone could see you, you were afraid. ironically. “she’s sad”

amanda stood across from you, “she wants to communicate with us but doesn’t know how. she feels lonely.”

“so these are flashlights, i will sit these on the dresser and basically you can use your energy to turn these on and off for yes and no.”

you moved from your bed to the dresser and tried out the flashlight. it took a few seconds but you eventually got it on, it took more energy than you thought. “she’s here!” nate chirped.

“y/n if this is you can you turn off the flashlight?” sam asked, you began dimming the light and eventually it turned off. “y/n, you’re free to use our energy if it helps you communicate.”

once again, you turn the flashlight on again, but a tad quicker this time. colby grins, “this is crazy. okay, y/n. i’m colby, this sam, nate, and that’s amanda.” he introduced everyone. “we want you to know we don’t want to force you or push you into anything. we just want to know who you were.” the one you came to know as nate said.

“how about we move to the bed?” nate added, for a change of pace.

now colby was lying on what was previously your bed and carefully you laid next to him. “holy shit dude” he looked at nagw. “what?” sam said, who was filming. “swear to god i just felt the side of the bed dip like she is laying next to me” “holy shit, for real?” he asked, couldn’t nodded. “yes.” he then paused, “y/n are you laying next to colby?” the four looked at the flashlights now on the bedside table.

you turned it on. then off

“y/n, would you like to talk to us?”

you turned it back on signaling you wanted to talk more

“okay, we’re going to pull out a spirit box and you can talk through it using the channels.”

“hi” you started the session with. finally feeling relieved being able to finally talk.

nate asked “y/n, are you lonely?”

“yes” “very”

“do you miss interaction?”

“of course.”

“y/n, how do you feel about us being here?” amanda questioned.

“happy.” “comfort”

“do you mean you feel comforted?”

“yes.”

“y/n, did you die from a broken heart?”

it fell silent for a few seconds, you begin reliving that night. “no.” you answered.

“we’re you murdered by your sister?”

“yes.”

sam and nate shared glances them looked back at colby.

“we’re sorry that happened, y/n. you seem like you were very sweet and to be surrounded by all of this sadness is very overwhelming. i cant imagine how you must feel.” amanda could feel the pain radiating from your energy.

“thank you, amanda.” you said, knowing if you could you would be crying.

“are you trapped here?” sam stood up from behind nate.

“i don’t know”

“have you tried leaving?”

“no”

nate hummed, “maybe she feels the need to stay here, like it’s her duty? she doesn’t have anyone waiting for her so maybe she just needs the okay for her to move on” he conspired, the rest hummed in agreement. “that could be a big possibility” colby says.

“yes” you answered from the spirit box, they all shot up to look at each other “yes!” sam repeated your answer throwing his hands onto his head. “wow, that’s a lot” nate added, laughing after.

“amanda and nate, do you guys wanna take the basement? i’ll take the second floor and colby can stay here?” sam suggested and everyone else agreed.

the rest of the group left, leaving you alone with colby and a few pieces of equipment.

“y/n, looks like it’s just us.” he announced, closing he door.

the flashlights were left on the bedsides and he walked over to your bed. “is it okay if it sit on your bed?” you turned on the flashlight closer to him, answering his question. he sat down and laid the spirit box next to him letting it run through channels. you suddenly came through the box “hi. colby.”

“hi, y/n” he smiled, glancing to the camera to make sure it was still recording. “i know you like to touch people, so feel free to touch me or use my energy if you want to talk more. we aren’t here to harm you.”

you smiled, answering. “thank you.” you carefully sat next to him, not wanting to startle him like last time. but, he still noticed. “holy shit. i just felt the bed sink next to me.” he talked to the camera, he took a deep breathe calming himself. “this is insane” he added. there was a few seconds of silence. you took this opportunity to finally to physical interaction. hesitating, you rested your hand on his which was laying on his knee.

colby froze, a huge wave of emotions flooded his mind. his heart began to ache feeling your sadness. his hand was ice cold, “is this you, y/n? are you touching my hand?” for just a moment, if he had closed his eyes and focused enough, he could picture you sitting next to him. though you didn’t answer, you only sat there still holding his hand.

“this is insane guys. i’ve never feel like this before” the camera, which was in his other hand was now panning to his hand. “my hand is freezing. i feel so many emotions right now.” he said, taking in a deep breath. “i’ve never felt like this before” he explained. you admired him, his kind soul, his gentle presence and peace of mind. “thank you, colby” you used the last bit of your energy you had so he could hear your voice.

he shot up from the bed and dropped the camera on the nightstand. “oh my fucking god” he mumbled, now pacing back and forth. “guys i don’t know if the camera caught that but i swear to god i just heard a voice” he ran his hands through his hair, feeling tears welling in his eyes. “holy shit guys.” he walked back and picked up the camera, documenting his tears. “that’s insane.”

you kind of felt bad, not expecting someone to cry so suddenly. “i’m sorry” you spoke from the spirit box. “no, no don’t be sorry. that was amazing. thank you for that y/n.”

the sound of an alarm went off and colby checked his phone which meant the group would return to colby.

colby was still emotional when the rest of the group returned, sam was the first one to see him. “dude? what happened?!” he asked. “you’re never going to believe this sam”. colby started but didn’t tell the story until amanda and nate came back.

colby turned the camera off before rewinding to the part you spoke in and there it was, clear as day. your voice. something you hadn’t heard in many years. “dude!” “bro!” “oh my god!” the othe three exclaimed. “that’s actually insane, colby. no wonder you’re tore up” amanda added.

“i’ve never felt like this before. just the pure wave of hurt, pain, loneliness, and sadness is just overwhelming. i cant even put into words how it made me feel. and after i heard her voice, knowing she is here is just so insane. that was an amazing experience”. sam agreed, keeping focus on colby as he spoke.

colby added “so, thank you, y/n for talking with us and sharing your story. you seem to be a wonderful soul and you deserve so much more than being trapped in this house. i want you to know that it’s okay to move on now, you can be at peace. the world will know your story now.” he wiped his eyes, now coming down from the overwhelming emotions.

you smiled, standing in front of the group. the sudden feeling of warmth and comfort surrounded your spirit. turned you head to look at amanda, “thank you”. you closed your eyes.

“she said thank you.” the blonde said, she also now felt emotional watching you find peace.

closing your eyes you fell your body being surrounded by light, and your soul was now at peace. you were able to move on now, all thanks to colby.

[sadcoms]

“the doctor didn’t tell rose anything about gallifrey/the time war/his previous companions/his family etc” i do not actually believe he never mentioned his home planet to rose and i think she had to know at least a bit about the time war after everything with the daleks but

sometimes you need someone who doesn’t ask about your past, especially when it is dark and difficult. and i think that is part of why the doctor and rose had this instant recognition and understanding of and about each other. i assume the doctor knew about jimmy stone (though not the actual details for quite a while) but not the way mickey and shareen and jackie did. yes they still loved her but they also knew all of her mistakes; they knew her when she was a sobbing, robbed sixteen year old and a lot of people just would have known her as “rose from the powell estate” or “rose, jimmy’s ex” and i think she felt trapped by that just as much as she felt trapped by feeling purposeless or powerless.

so of course rose isn’t going to push him for more about the time war, she knows enough. she clearly recognises that he’s trying to move forward and just reminds him that he has her beside him. and that’s what they give each other, not just a future but a future they actually think is worth living. when they first meet they’re both living on autopilot because they don’t really know what to do, and then suddenly there it is. something to genuinely move towards.

and i think the transition from nine to ten is kind of like when you’re daydreaming because you’ve had a really nice day and you’re like “oh the world isn’t actual hell” and then you wake up the next day to apply for that dream job or paint your bedroom yourself or bake cinnamon scrolls from scratch even though you only ever make packet brownies. and actually it’s hard: you don’t have the practise and you need to buy a shit ton of paint/brushes/ladders, or you don’t actually want to sit through 7 rounds of interviews, and rose is still going to die someday. but god, you still want it. and for the first time in forever you can actually tell her something about that life before you met her, when you were a dad once, and it’s the first time you’ve been able to say something like that without feeling like the floor has collapsed under you. rose has loved you without knowing all of your past, so maybe it can’t hurt to tell her more.

and then of course he loses her anyway and spends all of s3 being unable to go anywhere without being confronted with some reminder of the past, both rose-related (which, based on gridlock, he on some level sought out) and not. and it’s so much darker and unsafer than it was with rose, so much more hopeless. he no longer wants to talk about the future or even particularly on the present, and it hurts to talk about the past too, especially the past with rose (which he describes in utopia as “a lifetime ago” and “the olden days”, never mind that it can’t have been more than a few years between s1 and s3. he just feels so distanced from it all, that level of contentment he had as nine). no wonder he’s stuck.

and he stays that way until he finally gets everything he wants with rose, that future where they get to grow old together and he gets to truly have a family. or, until he becomes the past itself, regenerating into a new person

[heliads]

Hello 💕🌸 can you do a Thomas modern au fic when the reader is not well, sad. And Thomas come to her house to shower her «  the boyfriend package » : hug kiss, etc… the reader is adopt sister of Brenda, Teresa is Thomas twin sister. Newt is their best friend (who also had been matchmaker before they dated..) can you do à maximum of fluff please 🥹🥹

'boyfriend checkup' - thomas

masterlist

Being sick is terrible, isn’t it? From the second you felt the first threads of the cold start to clog your throat and nose, you knew it was all over. Mentally, you signed your death certificate: Y/N L/N, passed away today, gone from the most horrific cough known to man. That’s how it felt, at least, yet you’re still expected to get up and act as if nothing was the matter. Those kids with tuberculosis in the Victorian age who got to lie around in bed all day while their parents treated them like royalty didn’t know how good they had it.

Thankfully, you have at least a couple of days to feel better before you really have to be productive. You started feeling poorly on a Friday, barely managing to stumble through class before heading home as quickly as you could. Not wanting to complain and spoil the good mood of everyone excited about their weekend plans, you had tried to tell as few people as possible. Specifically, you hadn’t told your boyfriend, Thomas, but now you’re missing him more than ever.

It’s not like you’re intentionally trying to keep things from him, you just don’t want him giving up whatever fun things he was supposed to do this weekend so he could hover over you. You love your boyfriend more than anything, honestly, but when it took you so long to admit your feelings for him because you were certain he would never like you back, small things like this make it even easier to talk yourself out of thinking he’ll want to know about it. Thomas is the varsity cross country athlete, the popular one. He loves you, and he’ll tell you that as many times as it takes so you believe it, but some part of you will always wonder why.

That’s why you haven’t told him, not yet, although you have a feeling that he’ll find out sooner or later. Your adoptive sister, Brenda, is best friends with Thomas’ twin, Teresa, and they trade gossip like no one you’ve ever seen before. Both of them have repeatedly assured you that Thomas is head over heels for you, but what if he’s not quite infatuated enough to want to drop his weekend plans to take care of an invalid?

As the cold progresses, though, you start to wish that you had bothered him anyway. You’ve shut yourself up in your bedroom with all the lights off, just lying there and reminiscing about the golden days when your nose had worked as it was supposed to. You had taken so much for granted, and now you’re afflicted with a truly terrible fate indeed.

You’re miserable even on a Saturday, which is how you know things have truly taken a turn for the worst. Not even the weekend, the blessed release from work, can lift your spirits. Your best friend Newt was the only one who knew that you were going through it, and he’d made you promise to call him the second you started feeling better so he could plan a friend group movie night or something. Newt’s always the one on top of stuff like that. You doubt any of you could accomplish anything without his work behind the scenes to keep you all organized. He holds all of you together and keeps anyone from straying too far.

You had hoped that Newt would forget that you were feeling down, but it’s half past noon when your phone buzzes with an incoming call from the blond boy. You briefly consider just letting it go to voicemail, but that would alarm him even more than if you admitted that you still aren’t feeling your best.

You end up giving yourself a second or two to put on your best fake smile before answering the call. Thankfully, Newt had elected to go for just a talk over the phone instead of FaceTime, so you only have to disguise your voice and not your expression, too.

Newt’s voice rings over your phone. “What’s up, Y/N? How’re you doing today?”

You’ve never planned on a career as an actress, but when you answer Newt as happily as you can, you start to consider it. You sound chipper and excited, surprising even yourself. “Doing fine, Newt. How about yourself?”

Maybe this is actually doable. Maybe you might be able to convince your friend that you’re fine so he doesn’t do something terrible like try to get involved. Right now, you just want to be left alone to wallow in your dark room until you’re physically forced out of it.

Newt clicks his tongue in disapproval, sending a rush of static crackling over the phone. “Y/N, are you being honest with me?”

You start to sputter in surprise. Hadn’t your ruse been perfect? “What? Of course I am!”

Newt lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Sure thing. We’ve been friends for years, I know when you’re lying. You want to let me know how you’re really feeling?”

“Really, I’m great,” you eke out. “You’re being paranoid, Newt.”

“Am I?” He asks.

“No,” you admit. “I’m still miserable. My head is killing me, and I haven’t left my bed for more than a couple of minutes all day.”

Newt sighs. “That’s what I was worried about. Is there anything I can do? Maybe rally the group to swing by your house to cheer you up?”

“No, honestly. I don’t want to do anything. Hopefully I’ll get better soon, but until then, I don’t want any crowds around.” You tell him.

Newt pauses for a moment, thinking, then asks, “What about just one person?”

You frown. “Are you offering? I thought you were busy all day.”

“I am,” Newt clarifies, “But Thomas isn’t.”

You go silent. Newt, always the perceptive one, sighs again. “You haven’t told him that you’ve been feeling under the weather, have you?”

“No,” you admit, “but I didn’t want to bother him, that’s all. There’s nothing Thomas can do about this. I don’t want him to worry about something out of his control. He’s already got enough on his plate already, you know that as well as I do.”

Although this conversation is happening over the phone, you can picture Newt’s look of disappointed consternation anyway. “No, he would be furious with me if you were sick and I didn’t tell him. I’m letting him know immediately.”

“Newt, don’t you dare,” you admonish.

He just chuckles. “Too late. Texting him now. With any luck he’ll be over within the hour.”

“You’ve betrayed my trust. You’re a terrible friend,” you admonish him, but only half heartedly.

Newt laughs openly. “No, I’m a fantastic friend and you know it. Did I not use everything in me to get the two of you together?”

You giggle in spite of yourself. “You did indeed. I remember you bringing that up many times.”

“As I deserve,” Newt grumbles. “The two of you fought me all the way despite supposedly wanting this. He had better make you happy now, I’m not ruining all of my hard work for a bad cold.”

You smile. “Thanks, Newt. I’m very glad that you suffered so much for us.”

“You had better be,” he says, but he’s laughing when he hangs up.

Seconds later, you get a text from Thomas: On my way ASAP. Might be breaking the speed limit.

You grin and text him back. Don’t get pulled over.

Never, he answers, and he’s true to his word, a knock sounding on your front door about five minutes later. The rest of your family is out of the house, so you have no problems creeping down the hall to unlock the door and let him in.

Thomas swoops in immediately, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pulling away so he can get a good look at you. “How are you feeling, Y/N? Dizzy? Feverish? You look alright, if a little tired, but let’s get you back in bed at once.”

You laugh. “I’m not dying of the plague, Thomas. I’ll survive standing up for a few more seconds.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to,” he says. Pausing briefly to leave his shoes at the door, Thomas proves his point by picking you up in bridal style and carrying you back to your room despite your protests, which are admittedly pretty halfhearted.

Once Thomas has gotten you back in bed again, found a glass somewhere to bring you water, insisted on watching you drink all of it, run back downstairs so he could fill it again, and returned, he perches on the side of your bed, gently squeezing your hand.

“Well, Doctor Thomas?” You ask teasingly. “What’s your diagnosis?”

He grins and plays along. “Not terrible. I recommend bed rest, and maybe also letting your boyfriend know when he needs to take care of you.”

This last bit is delivered with increasing passion, and you’re left sheepishly smiling at him. “Alright, maybe I should have told you in the first place, but I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worrying is my job,” Thomas says, “I am excellent at it. Also, if I think you’re not telling me when you need extra love, I’ll worry even more than usual. The only way to keep me from worrying is to let me know when you’re sick or hurt. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agree, and smile when he kisses your cheek.

“You should get some rest,” Thomas urges you. “Here, I’ll close the door so the noise from downstairs doesn’t bother you.”

He moves to stand, but you reach for his hand and he freezes at once. “Stay with me?” You ask hopefully.

“Of course,” he smiles, and, careful not to disturb you, climbs into bed next to you, lying down on top of your blankets to keep his street clothes off of the mattress. You curl into him, letting your eyes shut as the steady beat of his heart lulls you to sleep. Once you wake up, you’ll feel better, and be more open to conversation, but for now, both of you are quite content with the silence. Peace is good for both of you.

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[browneyedboys]

will you walk me home

you can find my other work here!

Pairing: rafe cameron x reader

Warnings: cursing, frat parties, light discussion of alcohol, overall fluff (let me know if you find something else)

Word count: 2.3K

Synopsis: Second chance encounters with Rafe Cameron lead to discussions of fate and the idea of what happens when you go to frat parties. (second part to libraries after midnight)

a/n: okay so maybe this will be a series?! I'm having fun with this concept and I still promise nothing, feedback is always appreciated! 

The next time you see Rafe Cameron, only a few days later, you’re celebrating. The conclusion of midterms means that you’re slightly less stressed on a daily basis, a cause for celebration. You manage to convince Paige, your big, and some other girls to go to a Phi Gam party with you, only slightly hoping to run into your favorite golden boy. 

An hour or so passes and you’ve managed to go from sober to a flushed, giggling mess. Alcohol always manages to get your blood pumping to exactly where you don’t want it. The loud bass booms through the house and seems to come to rest in your lungs. It’s as they’ve developed their own beat. The slightly suffocating feeling manages to suck you back into reality; you need some air.

“I’m going to step outside for a few minutes,” you call to Paige, watching as she nods and turns to some of your sisters you both had been dancing with before. Shoving through the crowd, you pick up on the panicky feeling in your chest. There are too many people close to you, it’s too loud, and you’ve already had a big week. 

You finally reach the back door of the house, pulling it open in time to quell your beating heart. You usually excel in social situations, well at least enough to where you enjoy yourself. It seems with the intensity of the week a party wasn’t the best idea. Finding purchase on a brick retaining wall, you bring your knees to your chest and settle your head into the space between. The 4-7-8 count of breath that you learned for your anxiety helps a bit. 

Four seconds you breathe in, seven you hold it in, eight you let it go. Crowds never were your thing. Alcohol never really lets you free, it just makes you more giggly or sad, depending on the week. This week it leaned more towards the latter and the crowd around you came crashing down. 

“Hey, you okay?” You’re pulled from your breathing exercise, and in consequence from your thoughts. Lifting your head out of your knees, you find the perfect picture of Rafe standing before you. He holds a drink in his hand, his eyebrows pulled together as he maintains his gaze on you. Blinking, you extract your gaze from him, returning to your shell. 

You nod, a bit too quickly to be convincing, then resume your attempt to regain your breath. “I just…” you pause, marveling at the breeze on your arms, “I’ve never really gotten used to being in a crowd of people yet never feeling more lonely, you know?”

Rafe exhales, you watch him shift foot to foot through the little crack between your legs. His feet then step and disappear as you feel the warmth that radiates off of him settle beside you. A hand comes to rest between your shoulder blades, thumb tracing the juts of your spine. 

It’s so quiet behind the booming house you can nearly hear his breathing. You make your best effort to match your own breath to the rhythmic pace of Rafe’s thumb. As it swoops up the valley of your spine you pull air in, down you purse your lips and exhale. Little else seems to pull your thoughts from how nice it is to find peace in another person’s presence.

You’re so used to putting on a front or willing more energy to meet the expectations of others. All your life, it has felt like only a select few people truly manage to see how you are. Unbothered in the natural state, you feel at ease with this boy you’ve only really talked to twice. It’s an entirely cliche thought — but it feels like you’ve known him your whole life. You’re not sure if romantic soulmates exist but they have to in some capacity. People just seem to fit together in such unique ways, it can’t be only a billion coincidences. 

It would crush your soul to learn that the little connections in daily life happen due to mere circumstance. Like people on their deathbed call out to god — you can’t go about your life with no strings. It’s a terrifying thought that nothing draws people together. Fate has to exist. 

“What’s pulling you from life?” Rafe voices barely louder than a whisper. The rises and falls of his speech fits right in with the atmosphere around the two of you. 

You lift your head from your legs, resting your chin on your knees. You tilt your head to the side until you’ve squished your cheek just slightly, taking in the way Rafe’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Does it freak you out how many people live on this spinning ball? How every decision you make affects the entire trajectory of your life? How you could pass by the person you belong with because of something stupid?”

“Woah,” Rafe exhales, softly grinning at you, “That’s a minor crisis, I try not to think about everything too much. It’s so much easier to go about day to day life not in my own brain but sometimes I do think about that. I like to think that everything happens for a reason, even something stupid.”

You nod along with his words, if anything, Rafe seems to agree with you. 

“I mean even just me walking out here at the moment when I saw you could be seen as some twist of fate. It’s really easy to get lost in the world at times but I try to not overthink everything. How would you even know that they’re the person you belong with until you take the time to get to know them.”

“But fate has to play a part, right?” You question, lifting your head from your knees. You shift to sit like a pretzel carefully balanced on the wall. 

The uncertainty of your voice throws Rafe for a loop. This version of you is starkly different to the girl who told off his dad a few days ago. The crease between your eyebrows beckons him to solve all your problems like you tried to do for him. With a gentle manner, he smooths out the creases with his thumb. “That’s up for you to decide, honey. If fate is something that makes you feel better about the world then there is no harm in believing in it. What’s the difference between believing in fate and believing in a god? Both offer the same reassurances about what we don’t know.”

“Sometimes it feels like I don’t know a whole lot.” You murmur, the air gains a chill as your words leave your lips. October means the changing of the seasons and a whole lot of things to look forward to, but right now it's all a bit too much. Life feels so demanding. 

Rafe’s thumb traces your brow, pausing on your temple. Warmth cascades down the side of your face before his hand eventually settles, cupping your jaw. “You don’t have to know anything,” Rafe hums, “I mean you’re what, 20? You still have the rest of your life to figure it out.”

“I’m usually a giggly drunk,” you complain, leaning into the warmth of his hand on your face. Your eyes flutter every so slightly as the week seems to catch up to you. It’s so nice to have somebody out here with you. It would be too cold on your own. Even the pause between your own speech feels right. You don’t overthink your every movement around the golden boy. “What happened to me?”

The weight of your head in his hand prompts Rafe to shift closer to you. Your knee overlaps his thigh as you lean into his touch. “I’m sure you’ve had a long week; you’re probably exhausted and then you got overstimulated in there.” He’s so tempted to draw you into his arms and never let you go. He could spend a lifetime protecting you, like the way you did against his dad. “Maybe you should get some rest, call it an early night from the thrills of Phi Gam.” He proposes when the moments when your eyes are closed outweigh the moments they’re open. Rafe feels a new tug in his chest. He thinks an invisible string might tie your pinky to his. 

Your eyes meet his. You trace the shadows across his face, sharply contrasting to how he looked the last time you saw him. Maybe if you spend enough time noting the way he looks at you you’ll understand what it is you're feeling. The feeling that prompts you to ask, “Can you walk me home again?” 

Rafe’s quick to agree, with a short, “Of course, honey.” It turns your insides gooey like his term of endearment. You could get used to Rafe’s company. As you both stand, his hands leave a cold trail in their absence. 

The boom of the party increases as you make your way back towards the house. The lawn, green in the way that only money can achieve, is littered with far more people than when you first pushed through the doors. Perhaps everyone realized just how suffocating the air is inside. You glance over your shoulder as you step back inside, double checking that Rafe is behind you. Or maybe it's just an excuse to take another glimpse at the golden boy. The too warm air rushes into your lungs. It stinks of too many bodies who are at least a little wasted. 

He smiles at you, dropping his lips to your ear. “Do you need to make your rounds and say goodbye?” Rafe’s whisper elicits goosebumps. You shake your head; you can just text Paige that you went home. It’s not like you’re the designated driver or that you were incredibly drunk. It’s too loud for you to vocalize your entire thought process so you just continue through the house. Rafe’s hand find’s purchase on the small of your back as the people get denser. His thumb resumes its pace from earlier, moving back and forth. 

Rafe has come to recognize the scrunch between your eyebrows as a stress indicator. Watching the way it dissolves slightly as he guides you through the house, only for your brows to pull together as a person stills your path. Preston, Rafe’s fraternity brother stands in front of the pair of you. 

“Cameron!” Preston calls out. “I’ve missed you buddy. Where’ve you been?” He sways back and forth with the constitution of a giraffe. Rafe has always had a soft spot for Preston; they went through rush together and endured some stupid shit. He is the closest thing that Rafe has to a family out here. 

“Hey Preston, I’m going to walk Cory home and then I’ll be back okay. We can hang out after that.” Rafe answers in what he hopes will be both his first and last response. He can tell you just want to go home. 

Your eyes follow Preston as he stills, seemingly realizing that you’re right in front of him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Cory, Rafe’s asked me a hundred questions about you since that one night.” The implication of his statement hangs in the air, swirling with the idea of Rafe thinking of you as much as you think of him. 

“Oh, it’s great to meet you too!” You flash him a smile before glancing over your shoulder, wanting nothing more than to catch Rafe looking even a little bit flustered. It’s nice to know that you’re not the only one a little hung up on your shared interactions. Rafe meets your eyes with a faint grin. He doesn’t look pink but you miss the way he shook his head when Preston said what he did. He’s had a few seconds to recover, for which he is eternally grateful. 

“Well good night,” you duck around Preston, who has grown distracted by the lights dancing across the ceiling. Once you make it to the front of the house your idea of the night comes crashing back on you. Midterms and their conclusion was supposed to mean a break from the chaos that is your life but you seem to attract just a bit of chaotic energy wherever you go. 

The air has grown chillier in the few minutes you made your way through the frat house, or perhaps you got used to the stale air inside. Either way goosebumps creep up your arms, something Rafe notices with a surprising amount of speed. He shifts closer to you as you walk towards Pi Phi’s house, moving his arm from your back to your shoulders. He draws you ever so slightly towards him. 

Something about the ease you seem to instill in him causes Rafe to be a bit more direct. “Preston really did just call me out, but he’s right, in all his tipsy truth, I do like you…”

His honesty catches you off guard. “Rafe.” The short walk concludes as the pair of you draw on the start of the walkway to your house. You step out of his bubble, “I—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupts with a finger gracing your lips, it tugs your bottom lip with a comforting heaviness, “I just wanted you to know. You’ve had a long night and I’m sure you need a few days to process everything. Goodnight Cory.” Rafe takes a step back from you, his finger falling from your mouth. He hesitates just out of reach. 

Against his better judgment he quickly takes a step forward and presses a chase kiss on your forehead. Warmth blooms from the spot where his lips made contact long after his figure retreats back to his frat house. It stays even after you wash your face and put on your matching pajama set. In bed you trace the spot with a memory, smiling yourself into a dream filled night. 

[peachesofteal]

I don’t understand how anyone could think that Darling needs some sense slapped into her???? Have you never felt anxiety? Self doubt? Like you don’t belong? Have you never been told that your art skills are amazing so you try out for an art show, and you find yourself surrounded by the most talented people you’ve ever met, they all live and breath masterpieces and you can’t believe you felt you belonged there for a single second. So you leave, and yet, picking up a paint up brush is second nature, your hand misses the feeling of the canvas, every where you go you inhale the scent of ultramarine blue and ivory black. It’s impossible to just stop, to just let it all melt away, once you add a line to a paper can you truly erase it? Sure the charcoal is gone but what about the imprint of it? Please, leave my sweet Darling alone.

This was so lovely? Hello? And you’re so right.

I think it’s so easy for some to be frustrated with Darling and that’s fine, that’s their experience with the fic and I wouldn’t tell them they’re wrong, but…

I would reiterate that Darling is just a girl who’s in love and wants to be loved. She wants to feel safe and stable and secure. She’s never known what it’s like to be in a relationship where’s she’s accepted for all that she is until the guys. She easily feels like an outsider in her own home, and yet still desires to have a place there. She doubts herself every second of every day. She’s not perfect. She’s Darling. And the guys love her for it, even if she feels like she’s on the outside looking in.

🖤

[jhuzen]

Hi!! I wanted to make a request if you're taking them right now! (Sorry if you aren't, feel free to just ignore!!((in love with your writing by the way it's amazing)))

My idea is Zhongli with a partner who is very usually very cheery and chaotic but very emotionally closed off. Until they get drunk for whatever reason and sobbing to Zhongli about how much they're in love with him and how he's the best thing that ever happened to them etc.

Basically just very mushy drunk reader.

Anyway, hope you're doing well, make sure to drink water and be nice to yourself!

truth serum [gn/m.reader]

asmsiskdkcmeimcwdc?? not me absolutely having fun with this godsend ask. like. tysm anon. i love it. you have no idea how amazed and happy i am to see this ask. good shit. another big brained anon ftw. also i hope i did it some justice 😭 i really enjoyed writing their chemistry,, it’s so cute hehe

𖦹 a pinch of angst, drinking, alcohol, an attempt at a cute scenario

In all the years that Zhongli has known you, there was nothing short of joy and amusement that you brought into his life. Since the day he met you up on one of the mountains he’s shaped and created, you’ve enticed him and drew him in so effortlessly and he complied, growing closer like a moth to a flame. You were the sun that everybody looked forward to — him more so.

And he wasn’t wrong with his judgment, you gave what you offered. You were the gentle glow and the warmth that radiated on the nights that he’s cold. Always blessing him with that smile of yours — how ironic was it that he was the famed archon, and yet he looked to you and worshipped you far more than anyone in the people of Liyue could ever do so with him. To him, you were the unsung deity, the person that deserved a throne but never needed one, your benevolence exceeded anyone’s expectations and anyone wouldn’t be ashamed to have you.

You are Zhongli’s pride and joy, the only one capable of forging the embers of passion that sweltered within him. You are his everything.

And even with such a kind attitude, you were no downer. You exhibited a form of exuberance that immediately drew everyone in. With that warming smile of yours, everyone wanted to be near you for a chance (though Zhongli still with the characteristics of the draconic Morax would refuse anything closer, you were his even before he staked his claim).

Said exuberance of yours often turned you into a mad riot — a whirlwind of pure excitement that anyone could barely keep up with. Zhongli had to stifle a quiet laugh when he had to come get you from Wanmin restaurant, Guoba scolding you as you tried to beat Xiangling on who can eat the most Jueyun Chilis. You lost to young girl, but Xiangling wasn’t doing any better. You tried to reason out that you were losing on purpose, but with your labored breathing and your adorably red face, Zhongli could tell otherwise.

Often times, Zhongli would get dragged into such schemes, to the point that he has to save you from plummeting down into Osial’s prison when you tried to propose to him to be your lover in the stone forest. It truly was memorable for all the wrong (and right) reasons.

You’ve endeared him when you took the leap of faith and came to him with open arms, ready to finally have him after the long-winded pining, the hinting glances he would give you, and the way the former archon only seems to care about you and only you far more than anyone else.

Being with you was nothing short of delightful. Everyday, Zhongli would wake up to your breathtaking smiles and home-cooked breakfast. You entertained his endeavors and stories that could last for days, even making remarks of your own. You bought him trinkets that ranged from something simple, to something he knew even Tartaglia’s bank would quiver at. You were perfect.

Well. Generously speaking.

By all means, you weren’t a bad partner or a lover, you gave him everything, from the material possessions, down to the intimate moments you and him shared.

It was only that there are times, when Zhongli would be left in the silence of your shared home, he would zone into those moments that were so intimate emotionally and found… that it was only him that ever shared the appreciations, the loving gratitude, and the genuine love that he feels for you. And you accepted it wholeheartedly, only to turn the other way and continue on with what you’re doing.

It worried him greatly.

Even more when his thoughts were proven right as you held him so closely as you and him laid under the shade of the tree, with him comfortably resting on top of you. He could hear your heartbeat from your chest, as he laid his ear on it, quiet thumping can be heard and if he were to listen close enough, there was a timber of kindness and love inside it.

He sighed, content and at peace within your arms, “I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated life more than now…”

“Hm? Why do you say that?” You asked, hands slowly removing itself from his waist as you played around with the strands of his hair. “You’re not dying on me, are you?” You jested and he only scoffed with no malice. Ever the joker you are, it’s ridiculous how he fell for such charms.

“I am merely appreciating the finer things in life. Madame Ping has urged me to talk more about it,” a mere white lie for him to coax out your vulnerability. Madame Ping was far too aware of his happiness now that he has you — she was always the one on the receiving end of his talk of fondness about you.

“Oh? Then what makes you appreciate this life then?”

“Complications are far behind me now that I’m no longer the one in control… everything feels so much simpler yet so intricate,” he looked up at you, chin resting on your chest as he flashed you a small smile. “All of it because now I have you. I love you, [Name]. I would give you all the stars if I could, and slay a thousand beasts to keep you from harm… you are my everything and without you, I can no longer see myself as something…”

He watched with glee as your eyes widened at his words, no doubt taken by surprise. Zhongli can feel it, your vulnerability, ready to bare itself to him with the same level of intimacy as he’s displayed. Just that, and he can be the most content man in the world.

“I— ah, that’s good.”

Zhongli blinked owlishly as you stumbled over your words. Struggled even. He felt your muscles tense up beneath him.

“Good. I’m glad you’re happy, dearest.”

He couldn’t shield you from the way his eyes flashed a smidge of hurt at your response. And you weren’t an idiot. A bit reckless to the point of trouble following you, sure, but you were far from ignorant. Especially to your lover. You frowned a little and tilted his chin up, “Hey now, don’t make that face. I’m glad you’re feeling okay in the life that you’ve been living. And I love you too,” you tried to salvage what you could but even you were aware at how lacking it was.

Zhongli wasn’t unappreciative of your efforts, but he could only nod and stomach the gnawing worry inside him as he felt your lips brush against the skin of his forehead. Surely there’s a way to pry you open, right? There was something holding you back… and he doesn’t know what.

He was aware already that despite how accepting you seem, no one has ever seen you so vulnerable. You were an individual so full of life, but you never once wore your heart on your sleeves. And if people could look past those smiles of yours that are just so full of life, they would’ve known just how closed off you truly are. It was confusing, really, and Zhongli was starting to doubt things.

If he can’t even know your true feelings… then what’s stopping you from suddenly going up and leaving, only to never come back? Zhongli was heartbroken at the thought, he can’t lose you, not in a million years and even more than that.

But how… in Teyvat is he going to pry you open?

“ALCOHOL!!”

Zhongli almost yelped as he watched the poor you crash into the cobble streets of the harbor, jolting at the sight of the infamous Crux Captain on top of your back, with an incredibly huge smile on her face. He grimaced at your weak groan. He knows you can stomach a little pain. He knows that after he watched you confront Azhdaha to help the traveler into coaxing him to give them some materials for something important.

“[Name]!! I’ve arrived with a hundred souvenirs and a thousand more kegs! Courtesy of the rich lady up top, of course.” Beidou cackled as she finally got off of you, helping you up to your feet. “Oh! Hey there! Hope you don’t mind me borrowing your beloved for awhile!” She winked at Zhongli… but from her one eye, it only seemed like a mere blink.

Zhongli tilted his head a little as the look of confusion crossed his features, “Pardon? What do you mean by that, Captain Beidou?”

You dusted off the last bits of dust on your clothing and laughed a little, “Ah, I almost forgot. Y’see, before Beidou left, she told me I owe her a challenge.”

“A challenge?” The former archon cocked an eyebrow.

“A challenge!” Beidou parroted with a loud laugh, patting your back rather strongly to the point that you almost went back down to kiss the ground. “I challenged [Name] into the greatest drinking contest ever! Them against me, of course! It’s finally time for us to prove who’s the one that can hold the most liquor in the world!”

Zhongli looked at you questioningly, and you returned it with a shrug, “It’s what she wanted. And she won’t leave me alone until I say yes. If I didn’t I probably wouldn’t have been able to leave the ship.”

“Like there was even a chance for you to say no!” Beidou laughed again before patting your back and Zhongli’s shoulder, “Alright, I’ll see you in Liuli Pavilion! The booze is waiting and I don’t want my rival backing out!”

You had to rub your back from the soreness and sighed, “Though I doubt she’ll win, you have to admire the captain’s spirit. It’s hard not to honor her request.”

Zhongli stepped nearer and fixed up the lapels of your suit, smiling a little, “You know it’s a rather unfair match, right? While the Captain is amazing, you’re basically impossible to even get drunk.”

“That may be true, but hey, who knows?”

Who knows, indeed — is what all Zhongli could say as he gawked at the many barrels of alcohol that were stacked upon each other. The captain was not kidding, she secured barrels of it even, and the spark of glee that was within her eyes was relatively alarming. He merely tagged along so he can at least help clean up, but now curiosity was lingering at the back of his mind.

He’s never once seen you drunk. Often times, it’ll be him already mumbling about on the occasions that you and him would go out and drink to unwind (often in the company of one harbinger who would always challenge you and subsequently lose). He’s even seen you offer a handicap and drink Snezhnaya’s fire water in one bottle and Tartaglia still got wasted first.

You simply held your alcohol so well. Zhongli figured maybe this was the reason for Beidou’s challenge, to finally outdo you.

And Zhongli would have called it a night if it hadn’t turned for the unexpected.

But before that, expectantly, Beidou was out. She couldn’t beat you, and probably not even a million years. But she managed far more than any other human out there, swigging drink after drink with little to no care, keeping up with you all the more. It was almost inhuman, really, to see her empty the huge beer glass with so much gusto, the accompanying snacks as chasers left to the crew members who were also around to witness their captain’s victory.

And when she finally tapped out, surprisingly, you… you were already drunk.

Zhongli waited in bated breath as you and him were the only ones awake in the establishment. He was positive even the owners had to have dozed off with how long this competition has been going on already.

“Z…Zhooooong…zhongzhong…” you murmured and he was already by your side in a flash.

“Dear? Are you alright?” The concern inside him was quelled as he watched your flushed cheeks brighten even more. You’ve had one too many to the point that you were barely coherent. He was surprised to say the least — seeing you so feverish and so drunk.

“Zhonnnngggzzzzzzzli,” he blinked as you looked up, letting go of the beer glass you had in your hand. “Did I… win?”

“Sure did. We’re the only ones awake.” He laughed.

You raised a wobbly and weak fist in victory, “H….Hhhh…. Y-Yep. D-Das’right… I am the… undefeated champ,” your fist landed softly on the back of Beidou’s head, bonking her slightly with a slurred grin, “Take that… you… sea lady thing…”

Zhongli sighed a little, it was definitely in your fashion to get yourself into this kind of situation. Definitely your style to agree to something as ridiculous as a drinking contest and get drunk for the very first time. A smile tugged on the corner of his lips, “I will go get you some water and carry you home, yes?” He said and you nodded.

Only that when he did stand up to get water, you pulled him back down from his coattails, making him sit on your lap.

“[Name], I…”

“Shhhshshshshhh, no. Shush.” You huffed, enveloping his waist with your arms as you buried your face into his chest. He let out a breath, “Shush.” You chided and Zhongli obliged, trying to breathe quietly… however that’s done.

You and him stayed in silence, and he relished in the feeling of you within him. It was a sight to behold, something he will definitely remember for all eternity.

“Zhongli…” you murmured into the fabric of his coat, he only let out a quiet hum in response, playing with your hair like you did with him before. “I love you.”

“I know, dear. And I lo—”

“No!” You suddenly yelled and one of the crew members stirred at your volume, but you could care less. You lifted your head from his chest and held his shoulders, pulling him back a little as you looked at him square in his eyes. “I. Really. Love. You.”

Zhongli smiled a little and nodded. But you cut him off before he could say it back again, “I don’t think you realize just… how much… I love you. It’s ridiculous. I love you so much that it’s soooo annoying,” you drawled and the former archon had to wonder what you meant.

Lucky him that you were going to tell anyway. It seemed as though a moment of sobriety and clarity came upon you, as your lazy slurring left your system while you spoke.

“You… are probably one of the best things that ever happened to me. I know I don’t say it much, but,” you hiccuped and Zhongli only then saw the tears cascading down your face, “I really, really, really love you so much. You have no idea how much it broke me when I saw your face before. You looked so sad, Zhongli, so, so, soooo sad. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before, love. I don’t know what came over me, and I—!”

“Oh dear,” an airy chuckle left Zhongli’s parted lips as he watched you suddenly break open the emotions you held in your indestructible dam, flowing through like the tears in your eyes.

“I just— I just… I just!!! I just love you so much, man! Y-You treat me so well and give me all that I hope for!” You wailed so dramatically and Zhongli had to wonder if anyone woke up (he hopes not for the sake of your dignity and that he only wishes to be the only man to see this side of you), “Zhongli, I will marry you. It’s not even a want to do kind of thing anymore, I-I feel like if I don’t have you, I will die.”

It wasn’t even your intention, but soon tears pricked at the ends of his eyes, sniffling at your display, “Let’s hope we do not come to that point, yes?”

You pouted a little, “…Yes… Anyway… I’m… sorry I couldn’t say much… it’s hard for me, I guess,” you confessed and Zhongli understood. He always will for you. “But please understand… that if I also could, I would bring you not just stars but all worlds, that for your safety, I will not just kill a thousand threats but also build the strongest home… I will do it all for you…”

Suddenly, the fears within Zhongli were quelled and sent away as you finally gave out, letting him know that his worries were nothing but anxiety and that he will always have a place in your heart. He could feel his cheeks warm at your proposition earlier of tying the knot, even he couldn’t resist the giddiness that flooded his system at your drunken promise. It was enough for him to know that you still loved him even when it was expressed through a drunken honesty.

“…I love you… Zhongzhong…” you took your final shred of consciousness to breathe out your little declaration, eyes finally closing as you gave into the blissful slumber.

He cupped your cheeks and pecked your lips with a content smile, “I love you too, [Name].”

Zhongli was right about himself when you finally laid your feelings to him so openly. Because right now, he can confidently claim that he is most content man in the world.

[loverlunaire]

in step ; atsumu miya

m.list ; back ; next ; playlist

horns up! ♫

you had just arrived at school it was 7:10, call time was 7:25 but if you actually arrive at 7:25 you’re already late, there was this unspoken rule to always be there before fall time but you already made habit to be at the school earlier than it anyway. you opened the door to the building that housed all the performing arts classes, it might as well just be your second home and with the amount of time you’ve spent with the members of the band, it felt like home, it felt like a family. more so than your actual family.

the early morning light poured through the windows as you walked the hall, taking in the sight of the barely risen sun against the soft pinks and oranges that came with the rising sun. you noticed how the soft and fluffy clouds adorn the morning sky. it was a sight you’ve seen many times before, it didn’t make it any less beautiful. or at least it didn’t to you. times like that made you wonder how it would feel to wake up next to your lover, to watch the sunrise together, to run your fingers through his blonde hair, soft because he had just washed it the night before. while watching the sunrise your lips would come together, smiling after they part. and after the kiss you’d find yourself staring into his eyes, the warm sunlight reflecting against them so beautifully. his eyes were a deep brown that would sparkle when he would play volleyball or when he-

there in that very hallway at 7:13 am you had realized that you did want something out of your crush with atsumu miya.

it started as a silly adoration that you never paid much attention to, perhaps you were scared of the day where you had to come face to face with your feelings about the boy. right now you’re standing in front of your locker, the case of your instrument ready to be picked up but, you stand

there, lost in thought. you loved him, such an odd and scary thing to admit, but in spite of that.. it feels natural to do so. even if you didn’t interact often. you knew you loved him and this isn’t some empty and baseless realization. you’ve observed him, you’ve spent so much time watching him at volleyball games that you know his behaviors, not on a personal level but to the point where you were able to fall in love with him.

and at first it was a chore, the marching band had been asked to go to all the volleyball tournament matches each day as a pep band. it cut time that could’ve been used to practice, but it quickly became less of a chore when you were able to watch atsumu play. you had heard about him, the best high school setter in japan, what a feat! but you had also known of his charm and fan girls you had experienced the latter firsthand.. you weren’t charmed by his appearance alone, it was mostly on how he treats others that made you weak in your knees. it wasn’t the condescending jabs or provoking comments that made you swoon... it was his ability to see the best in people and his determination to make them flourish that came with it. that was what made your crush on the setter bloom. when you look past his bitchy attitude, it was just plain and simple that he just wanted to bring the best out of his teammates and others. though the way he executes it might be selfish and just for his own personal gain, but you can tell he truly cares for the people he plays with whether he admits that or not is a different story. he has too much pride to admit that, but we all have our own faults. pride and perfectionism might just be his.

atsumu has this hunger when playing volleyball that would only be satisfied by being the best. and you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t find that itself attractive. but besides being an extremely talented volleyball player,he was also just a boy, you’ve seen him off the court more times than you’ve seen him on it. you found yourself endeared with his seemingly childish rivalry with his brother. it reminded you of how young you were, that we are not the same people we were the day before, people’s goals and dreams are ever changing.

maybe you should have realized your crush on atsumu had grown into something more once you found yourself observing him outside volleyball games. you never really interacted besides the good mornings you gave to each other as you passed each other both of you on your ways to your morning practices. you weren’t in the same class but he has recognized you as someone in his brothers class, he was friendly despite what others have told you about him. you’ve been told he acts like a jerk to others and you won’t lie he does, but so does nearly every boy your age. atsumu is just one of the many boys you could have fallen for. despite his attitude he’s funny, attentive, cunning, and dedicated. traits you found yourself looking for in a partner..

you have entertained the idea of a future lover before and you hate to admit it you have spent some time thinking about how much you would like to hold atsumu’s hand, to be the one he looks for after a match, you always pushed them down saying that those were silly and childish things to think about but, part of you wanted it and you should’ve realized that your idle crush on him would leave you daydreaming of waking up next to him watching the sunrise and sharing a kiss together. though you are nervous to how you will react to this realization when you have the time to think about it but, you’re glad that it’s atsumu miya who you’ve fallen for.

and you hope that your silly fantasy of waking up next atsumu miya would one day be true.

extras;

♫ all region band is an audition only ensemble!! which is a big deal ! only second to all nation band which is also audition. but you can only audition for that if you made regionals.. both are hosted by jboda (japan band and orchestra directors association)

♫ in both audition processes it’s a faceless audition! the proctor doesn’t see you and you don’t see them !! you have to preform three études (from that years set which are provided by jboda) two major scales that differ between instrument and your chromatic scale!!!

♫ enough about auditions.. tsukishima had to put up with kageyama and y/n with their crushes. he’s sick of both of them (lovingly)

♫ kuroo has already moved practice that would’ve been next saturday so he and akaashi can go watch y/n.. he just wants to support his fellow nerd 💔

♫ y/n isn’t freaking out yet… they will start tweaking once marching season is over and they kinda don’t want to think about it. they know they love atsumu but what to do about it… that’s a future y/n problem!!

♫ call time is in the morning bc the band runs through their show at least three times before getting ready to ride the bus to the comp, ichibayashi is about two hours from inarizaki but they perform in the evening because they’re a big band have a high seed because they’re one of the best in their division !!!

taglist;

@soobin1437 @kenmacantakemeaway @diorzs @whimsybloom @does-directions @jojo23allegra @dazqa @zazathezaer

[writerblue275]

Collaborating with Heartsteel!Kayn (ft. the rest of Heartsteel!)

Inspiration: Music by Against the Current. Specifically “Burn it Down,” “Again & Again,” “Blindfolded,” “that won’t save us,” “Wildfire,” and so many other of their songs. Been super into their music lately.

Character: Heartsteel!Kayn (but also the rest of Heartsteel is mentioned)

Genre: Headcanon

Type: Fluff. Slight angst at beginning due to plot but it resolves.

Gender: Gender Neutral reader!

Tw: slight angst. Slightly low self esteem at parts. Shitty “friends” (not Heartsteel). Swearing.

Note: Honestly up to reader’s interpretation if there are romantic undertones in this or not. Truly I’m writing it neutrally where I can see either the reader and Kayn having only a platonic, but close, friendship, or have things develop into something more through/after the process. Up to you, besties.

You’ve known Kayn for years. Your musical stylings were very similar and your band and his old band ran in the same circles, though his former group was far more popular than yours while he was still a member.

You were the bassist/vocalist for your group and he played guitar for his.

Because of that genre overlap, overtime, you and him developed a friendship and often just hung out together, enjoying each other’s company.

Most of the time these were just hangouts in one of your rooms, improvising/riffing, having fun, and writing songs.

As you did, overtime you two discussed releasing some sort of project together, but the timing never seemed to be quite right.

Then well…Kayn was kicked out of his former band.

So all professional collab ideas were put on the back burner as you quickly and heavily focused on being there for your friend as he went through the toughest spot in his career.

Even when things got a bit ugly, you made sure he knew you were there to support him and that you believed in him and his talents.

Knowing someone was in his corner really helped him get to a better place again and he really thinks very highly of you because of what you did to support him.

In fact, when Kayn was approached by Aphelios about joining Heartsteel, he even asked for your opinion because he trusts your judgement.

And of course you encouraged him to go for it, knowing how much he missed performing.

You also had a good feeling about the group, especially if they wanted to have Kayn join even after all the shit that went down with his past group. It just felt like Kayn and Rhaast would be welcomed, and that made you happy.

You’re one of the very few people who he’s comfortable being Rhaast around. You’ve never judged him for his creative process and in fact have always been willing to accommodate it without judgement.

So needless to say, Kayn grew to respect you immensely.

As he settled into Heartsteel, he was happy to watch as your group continued to grow more and more successful. It also seemed like, even with the rising fame, your band all got along with each other.

That joy was something he appreciated even more now that he found his own group he felt at home with (Heartsteel).

Between your group’s rising fame and Heartsteel’s, that did mean you and Kayn weren’t able to hang out as much as you used to, and occasionally there were long periods of time where the two of you weren’t able to chat and keep each other up to date on stuff.

Which was why Kayn was stunned when he saw a social media post from your band announcing your departure from the group and who your replacement was.

The way the band worded the post, it seemed like the decision was mutual for both parties.

So Kayn was even more shocked to see a post on your personal accounts detailing how no, it wasn’t amicable, actually.

You were pushed out from your position in the group to make room for the lead guitarist’s sibling who also sang and played bass.

A situation of classic and full blown nepotism. It was a decision made behind your back and your former band didn’t even have the decency to talk to you about it before posting the announcement.

You found out about your removal via socials at the same time the public did. (That’s fucked up fr.)

Understandably, you were livid.

You were always a true professional when it came to both your music and your behavior while in the group, and you were regarded as one of the most talented bassists/vocalists in the genre. To hear you were pushed out due to nepotism was a shock for everyone in the industry.

(It also caused a lot of people to lose quite a bit of respect for your old band.)

While your captions of your posts on the topic remained professional, the hurt you were feeling was very clear in your words.

You’d considered your former band mates to be some of your closest friends. Them disregarding and disrespecting you like this stung a lot.

Thankfully so many of your fans immediately showed you support on your socials.

You’ve always loved and appreciated your fans and have always been vocal regarding your gratitude when it comes to their support. Because of that, you personally had a passionate subgroup of fans within your old group’s fan base.

Even with their support though, this was obviously a very rough time for you.

Kayn couldn’t help but feel upset for you. He knew how this situation felt and it definitely wasn’t great.

He left a comment on your post: “Fuck them and fuck that bullshit. You’re too talented for them. Let’s talk.”

That caused a lot of whispers. Most fans weren’t aware of your years-long friendship with Heartsteel’s main rebel.

The press went crazy. “Are they together??” “How do they know each other?” “Does this mean we’re getting a collab between (Y/N) and Heartsteel??” (Spoiler alert: Yes. Yes it does. 😂.)

(While you found the rumors and whispering silly, they did make you smile and laugh so that’s good.)

So you found a time to meet up with Kayn and just catch up on how things were going for each other.

He really was so supportive of you, making sure you realized you did nothing wrong and giving you the space and time to vent out everything you were feeling about the situation.

Kayn was getting his chance to repay what you did for him (though he hated that circumstances arose where he had to do so).

While chatting with you, he asked about some of the music you’d been writing, curious to see how things were coming along since he’d last seen you.

You showed him some of the songs/lyrics you’d been writing to process your grief and anger at the bullshit you found yourself in. Music had always been your comfort place and, despite the shitty situation, that hadn’t changed.

Kayn was super impressed by your work and he had an idea.

Kayn leaned forward across the cafe table you two were situated at. “What if we collabed on something? Like actually released a song together? Or shit, we could do an EP. We talked about doing so in the past. I think now is the perfect time. You can show those traitors you don’t need them.”

You looked surprised. “Really? Do you think we could? You have your Heartsteel obligations and I’d hate to take you away from those. Not to mention we don’t have enough people for it. I’ve got bass and vocals covered and you have guitar on lock, but who would play drums for us?”

He grinned. “(Y/N), I think it’s because of Heartsteel we’d be able to release something like this. The guys know I’ve been writing other stuff besides raps and they agreed to help me with any sort of solo or collaborative project I’m passionate about.”

Your eyebrows went up. “Oh really? That’s extremely supportive of them. I’m glad you have that.”

Kayn chuckled and nodded. “Things have definitely been looking up for me lately. But anyway, as for drums, Aphelios recently asked if I needed drums for anything. He’s been dying to break out his set again. So he’d definitely help us there.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Glad to hear that. But what about the sound production and mixing side of things? I only know the very basics.”

“Yone is one of the best producers in the industry and Aphelios has also been working alongside him on our projects. Between the two of them, I trust they’ll do right by us.”

You bit your lip before tapping your notebook. “Kayn, do you really think there’s enough in here for a solid EP? Would people listen?”

He tapped your note pad, “The lyrics in here are excellent, (Y/N), and knowing you, you already have melodies planned out. Besides, you and I were both pushed out of our former bands. That alone will create an insane amount of intrigue around any collaboration we do. I can tell you’re nervous about this, but let’s take a risk. Who knows what good might come out of it?”

His excitement and passion made the decision easy. You’d do it. You’d collab with him/Heartsteel (as long as the others were ok with it, especially Alune, Yone, and Aphelios).

They absolutely were. Yone loved the idea of producing more rock/alternative tracks. It was a genre he hadn’t really dipped his talents into yet.

Phel? Oh he agreed IMMEDIATELY when you and Kayn asked him to be the drummer for the project.

(A/N: I have such a vivid image in my head of Heartsteel!Aphelios just rocking the fuck out on drums and it’s GREAT. If only I could draw, damnit!)

And Alune thought the project would be a great way to drum up publicity for all involved, so she was all for it.

As were the other Heartsteel members. They helped out in their own ways too!

They’re really surprised (in a good way) by Kayn’s passion when it came to helping you. If it was such a big deal to him, they were going to do what they could to make this happen successfully!

K’Sante and Ezreal worked together to plan and direct a music video for the lead single (nothing extravagant. Just a cool looking performance video.)

Ezreal also helped with background vocals on the tracks.

Sett and K’Sante designed and helped make outfits for the MV and any performances you guys did.

You were super touched by how much they all helped you on this. Even though you were essentially a stranger, all of Heartsteel enthusiastically welcomed you in as a new friend and collaborator.

That made the entire creative process easy for you, which is what everyone wanted. You were stressed enough.

Recording the EP was so fucking fun? Truly your recording sessions were you, Kayn, and Aphelios rocking out with each other and doing what you do best. Performing some damn good music.

(A/N: Listen Kayn playing electric guitar has me in a fucking chokehold. He’d be so sexy with it and Jdnfjrnsnfjxkxnfjrkdnfjdk.)

After the recording sessions finished, you and Kayn were heavily involved in the production/mixing process with Yone and Aphelios. They always took your suggestions and thoughts seriously, and they genuinely had a lot of fun producing this project for you and Kayn.

With your past group, usually you just recorded and then your record label made all the important post-recording creative decisions. You just showed up where and when you needed to.

So having the ability and power to be so involved in the creative process/decisions for this project felt really liberating and wonderful. Heartsteel always made sure you felt seen and listened to when you made your opinions known.

(And the one time someone a prop-maker for the MV did kinda brush off your opinions, Kayn immediately backed you up.)

Speaking of creative decisions, usually you’re not a petty person…but you and Kayn decided to release the project around the same time you knew your former group was planning to release their own project. Because why the fuck not?

And when it came to deciding the logistics of the release (who it would release under/any features, etc…,) they gave you first artist credit. (It was Kayn’s request, but he didn’t have to try to convince the rest of them at all. They thought it was more than fair.)

Honestly Kayn, Aphelios, and Yone tried to convince you to just give them feature/production credit but you downright refused.

This was a true collaboration and you wanted to make sure people knew that. You were beyond grateful for Heartsteel’s role in this project.

The HYPE and anticipation surrounding this RP? Absolutely insane. People could not stop talking about it. And any sort of teasers/behind-the-scenes stuff you released on social media received so many interactions and comments expressing support for you and excitement for the release.

It made Kayn happy because he just KNEW your former group must be beyond annoyed. But in his eyes, fuck them. They didn’t care about your feelings when it came to kicking you out of the group so why should you take theirs into account? (<- He definitely said that to you more than once throughout the whole creative process.)

And once the EP was released (along with the lead single’s MV? Holy. SHIT. Things absolutely popped off.

Both fans and critics praised your work, particularly the raw and relatable emotions in the lyrics you wrote. Of course the music itself was praised too. Yone and Phel rightfully received a lot of kudos for their roles in the production of the music.

As did Kayn, ofc! Fans were thrilled to have Kayn back on guitar again and loved seeing him rock tf out with you and Phel in the music video.

The MV was also praised for its simplistic but impactful emphasis on the performance of the song. The visuals were amazing, though understated, and people thought your outfits looked cool as hell.

So many media outlets asked for interviews and such! It was wild! But it was super fun to explain to the public how you and Kayn knew each other and how this EP came to be! And Kayn always let you take the lead on questions since in his mind, this was your moment and he was just happy to be along for the ride. (One of the few times Kayn has ever been truly humble.)

(Also, lmaooo, Kayn definitely was throwing subtle shade onto your former group throughout all the interviews and when he did talk. You might not be a typically petty person, but he was. And he held quite a grudge against them now.)

You, Kayn, and Phel decided to do a mini series of concerts performing the project. Definitely not a full tour or anything, but it was just a chance for you to keep performing these songs that mean so much to you.

And every single concert? Sold out very quickly after tickets went on sale.

Those concerts were an absolute blast btw. You’ve never had so much fun performing before them. (Shout out to Alune for making sure each concert ran smoothly. You always made sure to thank her and buy her food after every concert, so now you are definitely on her favorites list!)

Also, because of your EP and concert series, you were scouted by a different band, another really well-respected group in the genre, who just lost their bassist/one of their vocalists. They really loved your lyric writing on the EP and wanted that talent on their team. (And of course they love your voice and your talents on bass!)

So even beyond this project, now you have a new group to call home! WOOHOO! (Kayn was so fuckin excited when you told him. His level of excitement was very unexpected but sweet!)

Needless to say the project was a total personal and professional success (and completely overshadowed your old band’s release hehehehehehe).

It allowed you to keep finding your joy in music even after a shitty situation, and you got to reconnect with someone you cared about (Kayn, duh).

Also working with Kayn and the other members of Heartsteel was just so fun.

They enjoyed working with you just as much. Through Kayn they let you know they’d be down for another collab, with you alone or with your new group, if you ever wanted to do another one.

(And while he didn’t say it out loud, Kayn’s definitely thinking: please collaborate with ME SPECIFICALLY again. Please please please please please *deep breath* please please please please.)

And you let him know you’d love to!

Thank you so very much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I apologize for the infrequent posts. Life is very hectic at the moment but I’m still here, loving my fandoms! I’m hoping to start writing a little more since I’ve been feeling inspired lately!💙

[star-girl69]

Cruel World

Shin Hati x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: hi everyone and welcome to the first chapter! as i mentioned, i’m just getting into star wars so i will get some things wrong!! i don’t know all of the lore yet, so please feel free to tell me something i missed! i hope you all enjoy!!

also, i took a little bit of creative liberty here regarding the nightsisters of dathomir, so don’t be surprised!

warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of death, imprisonment, swearing, mentions of insanity, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter One - Sweet Long Nights

Chapter One - Sweet Long Nights

—-

The Empire had fallen only a few weeks ago. You and mother had been holed up in some small planet, some small shack, waiting, biding your time.

Your mother said she just needed a second to think. To figure out some sort of direction, something. There had to be something she could do, to restore the power that had been taken from her.

And in the darkness of the night, while the wind blows dirt and dust through the small holes, a voice calls to her.

Thrawn will bring the Empire back. Thrawn will bring your power back. If you can get to him.

—-

Before the world had shown you cruelty, you had never known it. You lived in a lavish home on a tropical planet, far away from any prying eyes. Most people didn’t even know you existed, the elusive whispers of Morgan Elsbeth’s daughter, always destined to remain shrouded in secrecy.

You had tutors to teach you the fine arts of the most important planets, the politics of the Empire, language and math- but the really important lessons, the true power, was reserved for your mother.

She taught you not only about power in terms of what it meant to everyone else- but what it meant to the two of you. Descended from the Nightsisters of Dathomir, you were called witches, sisters, ladies of pure darkness.

And over the years, the bright green energy that bursted from you hands turned to uncontrollable surges of power into something that felt like it was yours. Your power. Something only you could control.

Then, the Empire fell. All of your mother’s assets were stripped away, including your beautiful home, all of your tutors, and everything you had ever known.

Adjusting was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. And you did it, missing the comforts of home all the while. It was something inside of you, a gaping hole, pure darkness that you apparently rule over- but it really rules you over.

That same darkness is inside your mother.

You both want that life back. You both need that life back.

There are black holes inside of your chests, and they need to be filled and filled with power.

The pursuit of your old life has led you here.

The room is metal and dark, shackles twist around your arms. You sigh, trying to find a comfortable spot on the metal bench made into the wall, but you can’t.

You miss softness.

“Are you sure this guy is going to come?”

Your mother looks away from the still closed door and to you, remnants of a true mother-daughter relationship on her face.

She cares for you. She just cares for power more. But as long as you have the same goal- you are her and she is you. One in the same. Mother and daughter.

“Yes,” she says, simply, and it seems like there is no more room for argument. “He’s a mercenary. And I paid him well.”

You shoot her an unimpressed look, but in your heart, you know this is the best she can do.

Her composure softens ever so slightly.

“I know,” she says, almost motherly, almost comforting. “I know it’s hard. But the path to power is a hard one, my daughter. We wouldn’t have come this far if we weren’t truly made for it.”

You smile, awkwardly, an acknowledgment of her words, and her lips press together tight, returning the awkward grimace.

The minutes pass by in silence, and you mother stares at her hands in her lap, shackled, and you stare at your own. You flex your fingers. No green sparks from your fingertips.

“Fucking weird-ass rocks,” you mutter, tempted to bang your hands into the wall over and over again until the power-dampening shackles snap off. You doubt they will, but who will blame you for trying?

You heard stories from your nanny’s when you were younger- one of them even descended from the Nightsisters as well. Her bloodline was much younger, much weaker, but she could still entertain you with small tricks and stories she had heard.

She told you that without their power, Nightsisters fell into madness. They would rake their hands down their face, rip their hair out. Away from their home planet, from the magic in the ground, they would slowly lose themselves.

Your mother had prevented that.

After the massacre of the Nightsisters, her and a few others had done powerful magick that you couldn’t even dream of. They had taken ichor from the planet, condensed it, and cut open their chests to rest the stone inside their rib cages.

You had been cut open while you were still a baby, but the stone still rested inside of you.

You look back up towards the closed door. You look towards your mother. And you look up towards the sky and say a prayer to the Winged Goddess.

Then, you can hear something. It’s faint. But it’s the sound of bodies falling, a lightsaber swishing through the air.

The sounds grow louder, accompanied by guns, bullets, one after another. Your mother remains apathetic, a blank, waiting look on her face. She says she isn’t capable of looking into the future- but you often wonder if somehow she is.

You take your seat next to her, shifting anxiously, trying to look as neutral as your mother.

The lock clicks, and the door opens, retracting upwards.

A man waits in the doorway, illuminated by the bright white hallways, dressed in all black. He reaches up and pulls down his hood, revealing a pale face and a full, gray beard.

Your mother stands up, holding out her chained arms.

He points, gestures, and they snap off. You watch your mother rub her wrists, before she turns to you.

You snap out of your amazement.

You lock eyes with the man before you, and he does the same thing, and your shackles fall off. Immediately, you can feel it under your skin. The power. The one from your ribs, passed down through the Nightsisters.

“Baylan, you are true to your word,” you mother commends, the highest compliment she could ever give.

He nods his head slightly. “And well paid for it, Lady Morgan.”

He reaches his hand out, and you stand, rolling your wrists, flexing your fingers, tempted to let green sparks jump out.

Your mother steps forward, and he helps her step over the threshold, then takes your hand and helps you step over it as well.

“Lady Y/N,” he says, and you don’t dare say thank you- because your mother didn’t. And she never would.

She walks briskly, and you find your way next to her, Baylan quick behind the two of you.

“The Jedi who captured me seeks the map.”

Your mother had only basically explained what the map was, how it will lead you to Thrawn, the other galaxy he is mysteriously trapped in. You know it was enough to imprison you over.

“She knows about Thrawn.”

“Who is this Jedi?” Baylan asks, a bit of arrogance creeping into his voice- he is better than whoever, surely. You’ve heard her name a hundred times before. Your mother cursed it when they locked you up.

She looks at you.

“Ahsoka Tano,” you hiss, sparks crackling at the ends of your fingertips. An enemy of your mother is an enemy of yours.

—-

The three of you board the ship in the dock, and as Baylan sits in the captains seat, you expect him to close the doors and take off. Your mother next to him, you behind her, an empty seat next to you.

But he doesn’t. He waits, until you get bored and anxious to get off this ship.

“What are we waiting for?”

He doesn’t look at you. Your mother taps her fingers against her seat.

“My apprentice.”

Footsteps echo up the ramp, and you turn around in your seat, only to find a girl, about your age, with chin length light blonde hair, and a spot of blood on her cheek.

Her eyes meet yours. She stops and stares at you, and all you can do is stare into her bright blue eyes, wide and rimmed with black makeup.

You’ve had lovers before. Weak humans with no powers, just servants in your home or the neighboring ones. But the lightsaber on her hip makes your heart skip a beat. She makes your heart skip a beat, and you stomach flip, and you can’t even feel stupid for the feelings in your body.

She nods, sitting down next to you, and you look her up and down, her armor, the spot of blood on her chin, the small braid resting on her shoulder.

The doors click up, and you can’t take your eyes away from the blood on her cheek. Finally, she looks back at you as the ship lifts up, seemingly a little confused and offended, glaring right at you.

“You have blood on your cheek.”

She looks down and wipes her cheek with her hand, smearing it, and she looks at the blood on her palm.

“Hm,” she says, no expression on her face, and you smile.

—-

That night, on your own ship, your mother asleep in the room next to you, you stare at the ceiling and think of your blonde savior. And you think about the way that if you focused, you could hear her heart speed up as she looked at you, and you could see her pupils dilate.

It’s a sweet long night thinking of her.

—-

send a message, an ask, or comment if you would like to be added to the taglist!

[cxsmicbaby]

little bit - 2

CHAPTER TWO OF A SERIES 

chapter 01

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings : mild description of blood/injury; cursing throughout. enjoy :) dm if you wanna be added to the taglist! 

word count : 3.5k

miguel gets hurt during a mission. he doesn’t want your help, but you give it anyway. things get a little bit heated. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

If I had it my way, I would never go home. It all just feels so stale, and boring. After getting a taste of something like the Spider Society, it’s difficult to return to a place where half the city hates you. 

Truly, that’s not even why I don’t like coming back. I mean, that’s apart of it, but there’s a far more real, physical problem that makes me dread walking through the portal today; the man waiting for me on the other side. 

Strange is not a bad guy. Sure, he’s got his quirks, but at his core he is just as determined to help people as I am. It’s just that he’s become a bit insufferable since I joined Miguel and the others; insufferable, like I cannot stand to be around him for longer than 10 minutes before feeling like I’m going to implode. But I can’t spend time on my Earth without reporting back to him, because if I don’t do it myself he’ll just find me, anyhow. 

“Look who decided to show up.” I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my tongue, feeling irritation already brewing in my chest. Taking a deep breath, I turn to face the doctor. He’s wearing a grey robe—a normal one, not a magic one—pajama pants, and slippers. It’s 3pm. 

“Can you get off my case, just this once? I had to deal with something.” I certainly did. Hobie and I spent the entire morning and early afternoon scrubbing away at the damage we did on Monday, despite objections from the other spiders. I was right, everyone thinks the lobby is too sterile. But of course, Miguel knows best. 

“Something? Is that something tall and annoying?” 

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, Strange. You’re not that tall.” 

He stares at me like he’s going to start laughing, and then he just sighs, walking past me. “Come on, let’s get this over with. I have something to do later.” 

“Something? Is that something... a lady?” 

The doctor scoffs, waving his hand to tell me how stupid he thinks I sound. To be fair, that wasn’t as good as his, but I couldn’t think of anything else. But he doesn’t say no, so I assume that this is his way of letting me know he’s going on a date later. Even though Strange and I have our differences, we’ve known each other for long enough that I can be happy for something like that—his last date was more than a year ago, and it ended with a slap and a suit soaked in red wine, so I can only hope this one goes better. 

“You’ve been gone for longer this time,” he says, as we enter his study. For a man that claims to be so uninterested in material goods, he seems to have spared no expense in the decor of his living space. Sure, the sanctum was already pretty lavish, but I know for a fact that some of the shiny objects I’m currently looking at were not in here last time. 

“It’s fine. It’s different for the others ‘cause a lot of them don’t have other heroes, but we’ve got the Avengers! The city doesn’t really need me that much,” I counter, taking a seat in one of the plush burgundy chairs. The cushion sinks a little under my weight, just enough to be comfortable. I need to invest in some better furniture for my apartment, because this is the best chair I’ve ever sat in. 

Strange shakes his head, and takes a seat by his desk across from me. “It’s not about that. People are noticing that you’re gone, you know. And not just civilians.” 

My eyebrows raise. “That’s ominous. Who’re we talking about here?” 

“Tony, for one. God, that guy is irritating. I’m starting to wonder whether I should just tell him, so he stops calling.” 

It takes all my willpower not to remind him just how similar he is to Stark, but to be fair, Tony annoys me more than Strange ever has. It baffles me how some of the other spiders actually work with that guy. Maybe he’s cooler in their universes. 

“Just tell them I’m on vacation or something. That’s normal, right? Even heroes take vacations,” I suddenly feel like I can’t sit anymore, so I stand and start to fiddle with the things on his desk. A heavy blue sphere that looks like crystal catches my eye, and I pick it up without asking, turning it around in my hands. I can see my own reflection. 

“Yeah, but not without saying anything. And put that down. It’s my paperweight.” 

I look up at him to see he’s being entirely serious, and I regretfully do as he says. What an extravagant paper weight. 

“So, what am I supposed to do? Get on Jimmy Fallon and announce my temporary retirement?” 

Strange takes the paperweight from the place I’ve left it and starts turning it around in his hands. Asshole. “Just don’t spend as much time there as you do. You need to balance it, or else this isn’t gonna work.” 

It sounds like he’s trying to tell me what to do. That’s an issue of his; always trying to be in charge of everyone and everything around him. I used to fall in line with that, but I have two control freaks in my life now and the newest one doesn’t really leave room for anyone else. 

“Listen, Doc, everything’s gonna be fine. If Stark gets too nosy, I’ll just come back and make something up. You have more important things to worry about than where I am, and I have more important things to worry about than you,” I fire back, narrowing my eyes slightly as I watch for his reaction. He doesn’t seem fazed by my defiance; he’s more amused. Doesn’t matter—it’s time to get out of here and get what I really came back for anyhow. (Boba. The Spider Society has every drink imaginable in the cafeteria except boba.)

“Alright. You do what you want, but just be careful. You’re messing with things beyond your understanding, you know. Even beyond mine.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” 

Before he can launch into a rant about how this is very much not a ‘whatever’ situation, my watch vibrates. I think that it’s probably my empanada alarm—I set one so I can bring Miguel food everyday at the same time, because I noticed that if I bring it after or before he gets too busy to eat it. But it’s not. It’s from Jessica, and she only calls when there’s something serious going on. I almost feel guilty for thinking that this is the perfect escape from this tedious conversation. 

“See ya, Strange. Duty calls.” 

And just like that, I’m gone, barreling through a wormhole on my way back to my new home. I think it’s pretty much gotten to that point, anyhow. I’ve probably slept in my apartment on Earth-72 like 3 times since I joined up.

When I step out, I’m greeted by more chaos than usual, which is saying something. The room is filled with panicked shouts and spider-people running in every direction; including up and down. Hobie is nowhere to be found, and neither is Miguel, or Jessica. A chill runs down my spine. Something is wrong. 

I see Ben talking frantically to someone else and I rush over, beginning to panic a bit myself. “Ben, what happened? Is everyone okay?” 

He grimaces. “Miguel, Hobie, and Jessica went to take care of an anomaly. It turned out to be worse than they thought it’d be, and we sent back up, but nobody’s come back yet. They’re all dead, man. They’re all gone...” When he trails off, his eyes unfocus and his eyebrows furrow, obviously getting lost in his melodramatic bullshit once again. 

My heart is steadily climbing up my throat. For the first time, I find myself unable to sit through this with him, because for the first time, it’s actually scaring me. “Shut up and tell me where they went.” 

He doesn’t even time to come up with something dumb to say before the room is suddenly lit up in oranges and pinks, swirling for just a moment before they collapse in on themselves, and out come just the people I was panicked for. First comes Hobie, and despite a slight limp he seems just fine. Then Jessica, with no physical wounds, but a look on her face that tells me the worst is yet to come. 

And then Miguel pours out, almost collapsing onto the floor before he clutches his stomach, forcing himself to stay upright. I can see a dark patch of what I assume to be blood on his right ribcage, and though his mask is on I can tell his face is twisted in pain. My hands almost reach out, as if I could grab him from my distance, but I settle instead for an expression that must look like I just witnessed yet another tragic family death. 

“What the hell happened?” I say, quickly walking over to the three. Spiders that must’ve been sent as backup exit the portal quickly after, all groaning and sporting some sort of injury. Jessica’s eyes go hard and she pins me down. 

“You should’ve been here. We needed you,” she scolds. Every time she talks to me this way I always feel like a little kid, despite our ages not being too far apart. Guilt chews away at me the longer I stand there, trying not to turn my attention to Miguel and the way he’s trying to hide how badly he’s hurt. 

“Give her a rest, she’s been workin’ hard. We got it done, didn’t we?” Hobie chimes in, his voice slightly strained. I wonder just how badly this fight went for everyone to have gotten hurt; the need for any backup at all is startling, seeing as usually it only takes one of us to finish an anomaly off. 

“With a lot more collateral damage than there needed to be. Someone take Miguel to the infirmary, he’s banged up bad.” 

I turn to him, but he’s already started stalking off. 

“I’m fine,” he calls, but I can hear the weakness in his voice; it’s lacking that dominance, that certain tone of his that makes you want to obey every word he says. So I follow behind him. 

“Miguel, let me help. I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

“No.” It comes out as more of a whimper, which I’m sure was not his intent. I swallow at the way my stomach flutters and continue to walk by his side, unsure of where he thinks he’s going. There’s no way he’s going back to work like this. For god’s sake, he still has his mask on, so he must not really be going anywhere. He’s just trying to get away so he can wallow in his suffering and refuse all help. I won’t let him, not today. If I can stand up to Strange, I can stand up to him. 

I move so that I’m blocking his path, and cross my arms in front of my chest, hoping to hide my heavy, nervous breathing. 

“I’m not asking, I’m telling. You need medical attention, but if you won’t let a professional help you, I’m going to.” 

Miguel studies me. I can tell he is, even though he still has his mask on. His eyes narrow and his posture slumps just the slightest bit, like he’s given up. For just a moment, a thick tension hangs in the air, pressing hard on my chest, but then Miguel inhales deeply and breaks the spell. He doesn’t say a word; he only nods, and pushes past me. This is professional. This is me helping a friend. Me helping my boss. So I should treat it as such. Right?

                                                     𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

Miguel wishes he let himself bleed out. 

That would be preferable to the situation he has put himself in instead, he thinks, as he watches your face. He’s seated on a chair in his room, his suit peeled down to his feet so you can have access to all his cuts and bruises. He has imagined himself like this with you so many times; you nestled between his thighs, your fingers dancing across his abdomen as you carefully sew his gash shut. In his mind, it’s always led to more sinful activities, and those images are playing on a loop behind his eyes as he watches you. He swallows hard. He remembers a few nights ago when he let himself get off to the thought of you, and he almost recoils from your touch. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask, glancing up at him with so soft a gaze he feels like he’s going to melt into a puddle at your feet. 

“No.” Miguel figures that speaking plainly will aid him through this, because if he lets you hear but a tremble in his voice he’s sure you’ll know. 

You’ll know that his heavy, labored breaths are not because of pain or exhaustion, and that his grip on the arm of the chair is not to brace for each movement of the needle. You’ll know that he’s thinking about how pretty you look on your knees. You’ll know that he wants nothing more than to grab you by the shoulders and kiss you, hard, to slip his tongue into your parted mouth and squeeze all the softest parts of you. 

“Ok,” you say, smiling. “Tell me if it does. I can be gentler.” 

He’s not sure you can. 

It’s torturous, how slow you’re going. You don’t want him to feel pain at your hands, the idea of which pokes worryingly at his heart, but Miguel thinks if he sits here with you for any longer he’s going to lose his mind. 

“Did you guys, uh...” you trail off, some semblance of guilt clouding your pretty face. “Did you guys actually need me?” 

Oh. You’re ashamed that you weren’t there. Miguel will not tell you this, but he’s glad you weren’t there. If you got hurt like he did he would have ripped the anomaly apart with his bare hands. And that would be a little hard to play off as just normal boss duties. 

“No,” he starts, and you brighten up for a moment before your expression sinks once more. He didn’t mean it like that. “If you were there you would’ve just gotten hurt like the rest. You would’ve gotten in the way.” 

Why, oh why, did he say that? It’s not even true. From an objective standpoint, you being there would have helped them immensely. Even Miguel acknowledges that you are one of the most talented spider-people he has recruited—though, the only person he acknowledges it to is himself. 

“Oh,” you say, your voice soft and quiet. The sound makes his chest ache. 

Miguel wants to say something more, but he stops himself. 

You sew him up in silence, which he thought would help, but now he can only focus on your breaths that fan over his bare skin, and your tongue that is poking against the corner of your lips as you concentrate. He feels his cock ache just the slightest bit and his eyes go wide, realizing that the worst possible thing that could happen right now is very, very close to happening. This needs to be over, now. 

“That’s enough.” Miguel tries not to sound panicked, but he’s sure some of it slips through the cracks. You pause and look up at him with confusion. 

“I’m almost finished. Just sit tight, it’ll be over soon.” 

You move to continue, and in his fear he pushes your hands away. “Don’t. I told you, I don’t want your fucking help.” 

He can see you’re hurt by that. God, what a fucking mess this is. The last thing he ever wants is to hurt you but it seems in order to keep himself from you, that’s what he has to do. The day you find out about the perverted, disgusting ways he thinks of you is the day he will disappear forever. He would sacrifice anything to keep that from happening. 

“I don’t understand. Why do you hate me so much? God, why do you hate everyone? All we ever do is try to help you.” You back away from him, still on your knees, and your hands fall frustratedly to your sides. Miguel is surprised by this reaction, because he’s so used to you letting everything he says slide right off your back. But he’s gone too far now, he can see that. Your eyes are shiny and your forehead creased in defeat. 

He can’t say anything, because if he does words will come out that he needs to stay hidden. So Miguel just watches you with eyes he’s sure are hard and cold, and he sees your face fall even further, your tongue poking at the inside of your cheek as a bitter laugh escapes you. 

“Fine. Do it yourself.”

You toss the needle onto the table with the rest of the supplies and stand, moving to leave. And this is what Miguel wants, right? He wants you gone. But he betrays himself, because before you can even reach the door, he finds words bubbling in his throat and he’s unable to stop them. 

“Wait. Don’t... you can stay.” It doesn’t even sound like his voice. He sounds weak, weathered by a raging storm that refuses to let up. You pause, but you don’t turn, crossing your arms in front of you as you sway from side to side. And Miguel’s body is aching to reach for you, to tell you the truth. That he is so infuriatingly infatuated with you that the very idea of you leaving makes him twitch. 

“I’m...” it feels like his throat is constricting, trying not to let the words out. “I’m sorry. That was... unnecessary.” 

You still don’t move, and Miguel’s sure you’re going to leave anyway. But then you do turn, and the smile on your face is so wide that he panics for a second that he’s said something more exciting than what he really has. 

“It was mean. But, I accept your apology. Thank you, Miguel.” You’ve said his name hundreds of times before, but this time he feels a surge of something strange in his chest; but not like before, in the shower, or when you were between his thighs, staring up at him. Something stronger than that. Something scarier. 

He swallows hard. “You can, uh. You can finish up now.” 

You’re between his thighs again. One of your hands is flat against his stomach, keeping the skin taut, the other sewing away, your elbow resting on his thigh. His chest is heaving again. But he’ll fight it, if it means you’ll smile. You’re still smiling. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask, glancing up at him again. 

Miguel sighs sharply. “A little bit.” You smile a little harder. 

“Sorry. I’ll be gentler.” 

Again, he’s not sure you could. 

                                                     𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

CHAPTER THREE

[thatgoblin]

It Doesn't Matter

Summary: You work for the 141 in the office as a researcher. Your job is important and needed, but you still feel empty. You're invisible to your coworkers, no one can remember your name, all of it adding up to a spiral with only one end in your mind.

Warnings: ANGST, but with a good ending, suicidal ideation, lots of depression, lots of talk of suicide. You've been warned.

Sitting in front of your computer and staring at the blank document had taken up nearly a half an hour of your time. It wasn’t that you didn’t have things to say, but you didn’t see the point. It was about birthdays and doing potlucks and such for events. Nothing off base or too expensive, but you truly didn’t see the point in giving what you liked to eat or drink or enjoy. You had known it for a while now, suspected it even longer, that no one cared about you. You were invisible to everyone on base unless they ran into you.

It was sad enough that you knew the trope meant you would become an evil villain should you gain superpowers. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t even use them if you did have them. What would you do? Become the next super soldier and be in the field fighting terrorists? You’d probably end up getting the power of invisibility and truly disappear from the world. 

Exiting the document, you went back to work. It was the only thing that gave you purpose because you were one of the very few people who could do it in the world. Without it you probably would have sank into the inky blackness of your brain long ago. Sending off the report to Laswell, you went onto the next task and then the next. Soon you found yourself looking at the clock with bleary eyes to see it was nearly 1 AM. Not out of the ordinary, but your back was screaming and your stomach making angry noises. It was time to head home. Locking up, you walked out into the empty hall, automatically moving if something was in the way. No one was around to say good night or had checked in with you. 

At home it was the same situation. Quiet and lonely. You followed your routine of eating cold take out from the day before, showering, then passing out after sending a few emails from your phone. 

When you wake up, the cycle starts all over again. No one talks to you and if they do, they forget your name every time. Laswell is the only one who knows who you are and what you do. She helped start the task force with Captain Price, but you’ve never met the man or the team. You understood why, for safety reasons, and didn’t get curious. That you saved for your job. 

Even that feels pointless some days. Sure, you were one of the few who could do it, but you could still be replaced. No one would miss you. How easy would it be to just log off and never show up again? Laswell would only ask if the reports weren’t coming in. They’d try to find you then, but it would be too late. 

It would be so easy. 

“Fuck!’ You hissed, the hot coffee scalding your hand and you for not paying more attention. 

“You alright?” A voice asked as you grabbed a towel to clean the spill up. 

“Fine, just not paying attention,” you said, not even looking up. It doesn’t matter. They won’t remember who you are in five minutes. They never do. 

“Alright, just checking.” 

You were proven right, yet again. The person moved in quickly and you were left sinking even lower into the bubbling pit of your brain. 

Going back to your office, you sit at your desk. You want to cry, you want to scream, you want to be noticed, to have someone fucking care and reach out because you are clearly not okay. You want someone to see you. But at the same time you don’t because you don’t want them to see how weak and broken you are. How selfish and bitter you can be. 

It starts out as you thinking it was a good form of therapy. Just writing it out. Not on your computer because you knew how easy it was to trace things. In a notebook at your desk. It’s a composition notebook with shiny, gold stars and moons on a purple background. It was an impulse buy and something you just liked looking out. As soon as the thought had come to you, the notebook was perfect. 

The paper would be your sin eater, gobbling up everything you gave it and then some. The blue ink made it seem less dark. ‘No one ever wrote a suicide note in blue ink,’ you thought to yourself. It was always in black on a coffee stained page or ripped from a spiral journal. It was clear those were serious notes while the ones you wrote were just to pour out some of the overflow so you didn’t feel like you were drowning anymore. 

At first it helped, like watering plants every day, you would tip some of yourself out. But like all things for you, it became a chore and it was less about trying to stay afloat and more about you holding rocks to stay under. You used to put words like ‘sorry’ or ‘forgive me’, but you didn’t anymore. The words became colder, more solid. ‘This is where I am and where I am going.’ There was finality because you knew it was becoming more final in your drafts. 

That was what they were. Drafts. All along, you had lied to yourself about it being therapeutic and not practice. 

When you reached the end of the notebook, you had one last blank page. No more waxing and waning, no more begging for someone to care or for forgiveness. You wrote out your details of your job, gave information needed to replace you, and lastly, you put your address and a spare key so it would be easy to find you and take care of everything. Leaving the notebook on your desk, you walked out of your office. 

Once you finished locking it, you turned to leave for the last time only to collide with someone. 

“Careful!” The gruff voice said as firm hands caught you before you could fall. “Sorry, guess I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s okay,” you said, not even looking up to see who it was. It doesn’t matter. “I was just leaving and didn’t look up. My fault.”

“You were standing still. I should have seen you,” the man said as you dug out your car keys. Then he said your name. Your eyes shot up to see his face. “That’s your name, isn’t it?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you said, stunned. “Sorry, people don’t usually talk to me. I’m the behind the scenes person.”

“Really? Well your report got us closer to AQ than we had in months,” the man said with a soft smile. “Oh, right, uh, I’m Captain Price.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, it’s been a long day,” you said, shaking your head a bit. “Well it was nice to meet you, Captain Price.” 

“Likewise,” he said with a nod. “Keep up the good work, we wouldn’t be able to do it without you.” You want to believe it, to accept the compliment, but you knew it wasn’t true. 

“Thanks,” you said with a nod, turning away quickly. Practically speed walking out, you went right to your car then home. 

It was time. You had put it off long enough. Something inside you knew it would always come to this. This would give you the relief your body had been aching for. 

Except you couldn’t. 

Sitting on your bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to lift a finger to start it. You were waiting for something, for someone, to stop you. To prove you weren’t really alone like you were certain you were. It broke your heart to know that no one was coming, to have all your fears confirmed. 

It doesn’t matter if you lived or died to anyone, not even yourself. 

Just as you’re about to lay down in the darkness to pass out, there’s a pounding at your door. The sudden noise startled you up. Hurrying to the front, you opened the door just as Captain Price was about to use a key to open your door. 

The key you had taped to your notebook that you had left at work. 

“Oh thank God,” he breathed. You stared at him wide eyed and in panic as you realized he had read your notebook. “Let me in, please.”

“No-no, it’s okay, I promise. Just go,” you said, terrified as you tried to slam the door on him. His combat boot was already in the doorway, trapping you. “Look, whatever you read, it’s just therapy notes. Okay? Just go, please,” you begged as your chronic dry eyes were starting to fill with tears. You didn’t want him to know. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not till I know you’re safe,” he said. “Have you done anything? Taken anything? Please let me in.”

“No, no, no, I haven’t done anything, just pretend you didn’t see anything, please?! Please!” You sobbed, unable to hold back as you lost it. “Please just pretend I’m not here. You won’t have to worry about anything, I promise!” Full body wracking sobs allowed him to gently push the door open as you stepped back. “Please.”

Captain Price’s words were soft and even, like luring a spooked animal closer. He didn’t move suddenly, didn’t accuse you of being weak, he just kept you in his sights. 

“Listen, I know you don’t want me here, but I have to know that you’re safe,” he said, closing the door behind him. “Is there someone I can call for-”

“No! There’s no one! There never has been anyone!” You yell at him. “I am alone and no one cares!”

“I care,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I care, that’s why I’m here.”

“No, you don’t,” you sob, shaking your head. “You care about keeping me alive because it would make you feel bad if you didn’t try to stop me.”

“Yes, it would,” Price said with a nod. “But more than that, I care because you are a person. A person who needs someone to care, to show they give a shit.”

“And? You’ll be gone again soon,” you said. “On another mission and I’ll be back to being alone. Even if you weren’t, what would you do? Ask me out for drinks with friends? See a football game? You don’t know me. You don’t know if you even like me as a person. You don’t know if you would get tired of me or get fed up because I’m not what you thought I was.”

“How can if you won’t let me?” Price asked. “Does it matter if I would find you interesting or funny or a good person if you won’t let me get to know you?”

“You don’t want to know. No one does,” you whimpered. “They forget my name after five minutes, no one cares if I’m there except for Laswell and that’s because I work for her!”

“And me,” he said. “You also work for me and I try my damndest to make sure my people are safe and good. I fucked up. I over looked you and I’m so sorry. You’re right under my nose and I didn’t stop to think about it.”

“I’m not your responsibility,” you snarled. “I’m not some pet that you forgot to take out for a walk!”

“I know, I know, but my people are my responsibility. I have always thought like that,” Price said. “Whether or not you believe it, I want to help you. It won’t end with you being fired or locked up, I promise.”

“How can I trust you?” You asked. “How can I know for sure none of that will happen? I’ve never even met you before today and suddenly I’m your top priority?”

“My top priority is always to save as many people as I can,” he said. “If I can keep even one more person alive and they have a better chance than before, then I did my job. I want to help you, will you let me?”

After everything, the silence, being forgotten, no one reaching out, here was what you wanted. All you had to do was let yourself have it. 

“You matter,” he said, stepping forward as you relaxed your stance a bit. “You really do. More than you know, more than I know.”

“I. . . I want to,” you said softly, your body aching for that reassurance, that physical weight to ground you and keep you from being swept away and pulled under. “I want to matter.”

“You do,” he said, reaching out slowly to rest his hands on your shoulders. It was like someone pulled you up for the first time, letting you gulp fresh air that wasn’t poisoned by your mind. Looking at his face, it was too genuine to be a lie. 

Laswell had said that. That he was genuine and kind and determined and fought hard for his people. She was right. 

Choking out a sob, you wrapped your arms around him and held him tight as you sobbed into his chest. The pitcher was truly pouring now, taking away from the dam before it burst. Price held you just as tight, rubbing your back as he let you get it out. He probably wondered how long you had gone on like this or if you had always held this weight. 

Minutes went by before you pulled away even slightly. Sniffling, you saw his shirt had large wet blotches from your tears. 

“Sorry, I got your shirt messy,” you said, feeling lighter than you had in probably years.

“You’re fine. It doesn’t matter,” he said with a soft hum.

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