#kind of inspired by a conversation i had with international friends yesterday

[missempanada]

10 random facts about Spain you might wanna know for your fan work

My Hetalia hyperfixation came back this 2025 and it's stronger than ever. So to celebrate, I decided to make this post to share with you a little bit of real contemporary Spanish culture and to debunk some stereotypes. If you're writing or creating art about Spain this might help you add some details that will make the character, as well as his relationships with other nations, feel more authentic.

#1. We have two surnames, not a compound one (so it's "Fernández Carriedo", not "Fernandez-Carriedo"). I explained how that works in a post some years ago.

#2. We don't really drink sangría when we go to bars. It's considered a thing for tourists, especially considering how much they can charge you for it. Instead of that, we drink tinto de verano which is a mixture of red wine and either sparkling water or sparkling lemonade (usually the second one). When we do drink sangría, it's usually at a house or student delegation party and the methods we use to prepare it are usually not... very clean or sophisticated. It’s usually just cheap wine mixed with soda, with some chopped fruits thrown in, and it’s often made in a large plastic tub or basin without much concern for presentation or hygiene.

#3. Likewise, the dish that we like the most isn't paella, but tortilla de patatas. You'll find a plate of tortilla in every household when it's time to watch a football match, celebrate a birthday or watch the Eurovision grand final. Also, the only thing this tortilla has in common with the Mexican one is the name.

#4. The olive oil stereotype is way more accurate than the tomato one. We put olive oil in everything. Though if you wanna combine both stereotypes, most Spaniards love to have a toast with tomato pulp, olive oil and salt, either as breakfast or as a snack. The name and preparation of this toast can have slight variatons from region to region.

#5. Most Spaniards don't like bullfighting and even advocate for it to be banned. According to this survey, only 24% of Spaniards like bullfighting and it's usually those amongst the older generations. We usually consider the bullfighter stereotype to be offensive but we also think the imaginery slays (no pun intended) with fashion designers such as Palomo Spain using it in their works (this is the costume he designed for our entry in Eurovision 2022). It's kind of contradicting so take this information as you will. But basically: killing bulls, NO; pretty and shiny costumes, YES.

#6. According to a survey, Portugal (#1) and Italy (#2) are the two countries most liked by Spaniards. According to another survey, those two countries along with Greece would be the ones we'd be the most willing to help in case of a crisis. Can't tell if it's reciprocated, but according to every Spanish student's Erasmus experience ever I would say yes! (If you're not European and don't know what Erasmus is, look it up. Might be useful for a college AU). Also, there seems to be a rise in the idea of Mediterranean/southern European/PIGS pride among youths of any political inclination, often making memes like this one, which may or may not be related to the data I just provided. I'd say we consider the Portuguese to be our siblings, Italians to be our cousins and Greeks to be our distant cousins.

#7. The "th" sound in the neutral European Spanish dialect (the one you hear in movies and shows) isn't a lisp, but a phenomenon linguists call diferenciación. If anyone wants me to explain this in detail, I'll gladly make a separate post about it. If you don't know how it works I suggest you don't use it in fics and stuff because we will point and laugh at you. Especially considering some provinces in Spain only pronounce the S sound, just like Latin Americans.

#8. Though Enrique Iglesias is great, he's not the most popular singer in Spain at the moment, especially since he's retired from music. Spanish girls and gays usually listen to Rosalía, Ana Mena, Lola Índigo or Belén Aguilera, amongst others. Straight people usually listen to Quevedo (ew). David Bisbal was very big in the 2000s and he's still universally loved by all, whether we actually like his music or see him as a living meme. Collaborations with Latin American artists (examples 1, 2, 3) are also very popular and collaborations with Italian artists are becoming increasingly popular (examples 1, 2, 3). I have a playlist of Spanish pop artists (mostly women) that you can check here. If your fic or artwork is set on the 20th Century, you might wanna check this playlist instead. And here's another one for Spanish classical composers.

#9. Doraemon and Crayon Shin Chan are a cultural staple amongst Spaniards raised in the late 90s-2000s-early 2010s. So much so, that there's even an episode of Crayon Shin Chan in which the Nohara family goes to Spain on vacation. I've bonded with Japanese people over this lol

#10. We typically don't use the word "gringo" to refer to USAmericans (though it's becoming more popular now since younger generations are more used to hearing Latin American slang because of both the Internet and recent migrations), we use "guiri" instead. This word is used to describe people who are whiter than us, for lack of a better explanation. So, basically, Central Europeans + Nordics + Brits + USAmericans + Canadians. Like most words in Spanish, it can be considered either a neutral descriptor or a pejorative term depending on the context and intonation. For example, if a Spaniard has an English or German partner, they may call them "mi guiri" (my guiri) as a light-hearted tease. However, if we're talking about drunk English tourists jumping from balconies... then yes, it's definitely pejorative.

I'd love it if anyone else in the fandom does this with facts about their country because I love learning new things about other cultures and peoples. So if you write a post like this, please tag me so I can read it! Also if you want me to confirm or debunk any stereotype let me know and I'll do it in the comments.

Bonus fun fact: Spain is the gayest country in Europe (based on the percentage of people that identify as LGBT+).

[aryadelvich]

Popular girl x nerdy Lulu, Luigi Mangione

(I don’t know if it’s him in this picture but it looks exactly like him)

If you’re looking for more of my work here’s an Updated Masterlist

This one is from this request

You were the new girl at university. You had missed the first semester for medical reasons, but now everything was fine. You quickly managed to fit in, and soon, you became the popular girl—the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one who rejected every guy on campus.

Except for one: Luigi.

He never really tried to talk to you. He was always with his friends, and sometimes, your groups would cross paths and exchange greetings. While the other guys in his group were friendly and eager to chat, he remained distant. He didn’t look at you, didn’t talk to you, and when he did, it was brief—just the usual polite courtesies.

Everyone thought you hated him because he was the only one who didn’t give you attention, but it was quite the opposite. He was the only one who didn’t approach you expecting something in return.

The popularity you had built was just a shield. In truth, you were pretending to be someone else, just to fit in, just to avoid eating lunch alone. But part of you felt heavy, out of place. Every conversation, every topic—you were always pretending.

In high school, you didn’t have many friends. People thought you were too weird. The only friends you had were the other "weird" ones, and though you still kept in touch, they were no longer in the same city as you.

But Luigi—he had no trouble being himself. He dressed however he wanted. Once, one of your "friends" mocked him for wearing this same adidas — which you find so cute— sweatshirt several times in a few weeks. He had simply replied, sarcastically, that washing machines existed. She immediately fell silent.

Inside, you were thrilled. It wasn’t something to comment on in the first place, but you didn’t have the courage to go against your friend. You didn’t want to be pushed out of the group.

Luigi did whatever he wanted, with passion—video games, sports, traveling, outings, museums, books, movies…

You found yourself thinking about him often. He was so kind, yet he never let anyone take advantage of his kindness. And he did it all so effortlessly. You envied him.

And now, it was the moment you looked forward to every day—the moment your friend groups crossed paths in the hallway.

He was there, right in front of you.

"Hey, Y/n," he said, glancing at you briefly before greeting the other girls by name.

He was always modest, never looking down on anyone. He called everyone by their name, and if he didn’t know it, he would politely ask.

And just like that, the moment you had been waiting for was over. The groups went their separate ways.

It was too short. You wanted more. But not in a romantic way—platonically. He was inspiring.

"I matched with Luigi yesterday," one of your friends, Elena, suddenly announced.

All the girls turned to her instantly.

"What? That Luigi? The nerd? He has Tinder?" they asked, surprised.

"Yeah, his friends made him one because, according to them, he really deserves to find love."

"Nobody’s good enough for him," Emma added.

"Well, he chose me," your friend smirked. "I mean, he’s a little awkward but I can change him, give him a makeover." She added, "The other day, he took off his sweatshirt because he was hot, and I saw his amazing abs."

You sighed internally, feeling a little disappointed.

Luigi was interested in her?

He hadn’t had many—if any—relationships before, and for some reason, that had reassured you.

"Why aren’t you saying anything, Y/n? Aren’t you happy for me?"

So hypocritical.

"Of course I am," you forced a smile. "If you’re happy, then I am too."

•••A few hours later•••

You had finally managed to slip away from your group of friends. You had to get to your math club, and you didn’t want them to know. If they found out, your reputation would be ruined.

You cursed yourself internally.

Why were you doing all of this? Be yourself, Y/n. Let go. Stop caring about what people think.

Easier said than done.

You stepped through the door of the club. The room fell silent.

"Uh, the fashion club is down the hall," one of the members said.

"This is the math club, right?" you asked, just to be sure.

"Yeah…?"

"Good. This is exactly where I meant to be. I’m Y/n, and I’d like to become a member."

"We all know who you are," they said in unison.

"Okay, then let’s get started," you said, putting down your things.

"Sorry, but we only accept people who have a good level in math. You don’t exactly seem like someone very committed to studying," the club leader admitted.

Then, a deep and familiar voice cut through the silence.

"At least let her try. You’re judging without knowing."

You recognized it instantly.

Luigi.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Why was it beating so fast?

He looked at you kindly—something no one else in the room did.

"Luigi, we don’t have time. The competition is in three weeks, and she has an entire semester to catch up on," the club leader protested.

"Then let’s give her a problem that covers everything we’ve studied. If she has gaps, I’ll personally tutor her," Luigi suggested.

One-on-one lessons? A little voice in your head told you to make a few mistakes just to get that time with him. But your desire to prove yourself was stronger. Besides, Luigi already had a date coming up, and it definitely wasn’t with you.

"I’ll take on any challenge you give me. I promise I have the skills and the motivation," you said with determination.

Luigi looked at you, amused. The club members exchanged glances before agreeing.

Selena—one of the members—wrote a complex equation on the board. You had twenty minutes to solve it.

You looked at the equation. A heavy silence filled the room. The club members watched you, waiting to see if you were up to the challenge.

Without hesitation, you picked up the marker and started writing. Step by step, you broke down the problem, quickly finding the best approach. The room remained silent, except for the faint sound of the marker gliding across the board.

After a few minutes, you boxed your final answer and turned around.

The club leader checked your work, his eyes scanning each step. Then, he let out a small sigh.

“…It’s correct.”

A few murmurs of surprise echoed through the room.

Luigi smirked. “Told you. You judged too fast.”

The leader hesitated, then finally said, “Alright. Y/n, welcome to the club.”

Relief washed over you. You had done it.

Luigi met your gaze and gave you a small nod of approval. For some reason, that felt like the biggest victory of all.

The only two other girls in the group were thrilled. The guys, however, grumbled.

"It’s normal they’re a bit jealous," Luigi reassured you. "You’re the first one to solve this problem."

"Oh, I see. And to think girls are the ones with a reputation for being catty," you teased.

Luigi chuckled.

"I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you here. This doesn’t really seem like your thing" he said.

"My thing ?” You echoed. “What exactly is ‘my thing’ supposed to be ?"

"No, I just mean… you’re Y/n. The popular girl. You hang out with the most popular group, go to all the parties, all the events…" he explained.

"You hesitated, glancing around before lowering your voice. "Well, I’d rather people not know I’m here, so… let’s keep this between us."

His brow furrowed. "Why?"

You exhaled, already regretting bringing it up. "Because it wouldn’t exactly help my reputation." You admitted.

His expression changed—he was always so expressive—and now, you could tell he was judging you.

"Oh, I get it. You wanna be the cool girl who cares about nothing."

“That’s not true”your jaw tightened.

But even as you said it, you weren’t sure if you believed it yourself.

And judging by the look on his face, neither was he.

Maybe that’s why he barely spoke to you—he had probably seen right through you.

"So that’s why you hardly ever talk to me? Because you think I’m fake and shallow?" You needed answers.

His expression softened slightly, his brows lifting just a little.

"N-no, that’s not it. Trust me. I’m sorry for what I said. It was mean. I just… never mind. Forget it."

"I should get to work before the group kicks me out," you said, ending the conversation.

"I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret," he reassured you.

"Do whatever you want," you muttered. You just wanted to focus on math.

He lowered his head, looking almost ashamed. He hadn’t meant to upset you, but it had been a long time since someone had been that honest with you—not even your so-called friends.

••• Few weeks later

A few weeks had passed. You loved your new club. Everyone was great, and no one looked down on anyone else. Everyone helped each other. At first, they had been distant, seeing you as the superficial girl who thought she was above everyone, but you had proven them wrong. Now, conversations flowed easily.

And then there was Luigi.

Just his presence was enough to brighten your day. You wished he felt the same way, but he never seemed interested in anyone. He never talked about girls, and whenever someone brought up the topic, he completely dodged the question.

The competition was in two days, and you and Luigi had been chosen as the team’s representatives. The members had picked the two most “presentable” people for the so-called "beauty privilege," which had shocked Luigi. He never thought he would be chosen, believing himself to be far from attractive. But he was the only one who thought that. He had no idea how effortlessly charismatic he was, which only made him even more charming.

"Hey, want to meet up tonight to go over our presentation?" he asked.

"Yes, I'd love to," you replied enthusiastically.

"Let’s say 6 PM?"

"See you later." You smiled before heading off.

••6 PM••

Sitting side by side in the library, you were going over the final points for the competition. Papers were scattered across the table, filled with calculations and notes.

"Are you nervous?" Luigi asked, leaning back in his chair.

"A little," you admitted. "I trust our skills, but the idea of speaking in front of a jury stresses me out."

He nodded. "Yeah, that’s always the hardest part. But honestly, you’ve got nothing to prove—you already impressed the whole club."

You smiled.

He was about to add something when someone interrupted the conversation.

"Y/n? What are you doing here? Hey, Luigi."

It was her. Again. What did she want? She walked over and sat next to you.

"Are you taking private lessons, Y/n?"

You didn’t know what to say. But it was so ridiculous—why hide it? Just admit the truth, this isn’t high school anymore.

"Yeah, she didn’t understand much in applied math, so I’m helping her out," Luigi said as an excuse.

"Oh, you give lessons? Because I’m interested too. I’m struggling with chemistry," your friend asked.

"maybe next time?" Luigi replied, throwing you a brief glance.

"Alright, give me your number, I’ll contact you."

"I’ll come to you when I have time," was the only excuse he could come up with.

"But I thought you already had his number?" you asked, curious about her response.

"Why would I have it?"

"Tind—"

"No, Y/n, I don’t know what you’re talking about," she cut you off.

An awkward silence settled. Elena took out her phone, and while you went back to studying, she stayed on it.

"Y/n, Tyler organized a surprise party today, are we going?" Elena suggested.

You really didn’t want to go. You weren’t interested in the first place, and on top of that, Luigi would be there. You’d much rather spend time with him than go to a party where anything could happen.

"Uh… I…"

"Come on! You’d rather do math than have fun?" She tried to convince you.

"You can go alone or ask someone else. I have an important exam in two days, I need to be in shape," you justified.

Why am I even justifying myself? I do what I want, after all.

"You’d rather stay with Luigi, is that it? That’s such a pick-me move."

"What? No," you stammered.

"Elena, I think you’re going a bit too far," Luigi defended.

"No, Luigi, stay out of it. Every time I invite her somewhere, she refuses."

"Because she can’t, why insist?" Luigi added.

"Stop, both of you. Fine, I’ll go with you," you gave in.

You gathered your things. Luigi sighed and crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair.

"Y/n, you really don’t have to," Luigi insisted.

"It’s fine, leave me alone with your math," you said, reluctantly.

Luigi let out a nervous laugh. "Seriously?"

You didn’t reply and left with Elena.

"We’re gonna have so much fun!" she said enthusiastically.

"Actually, I’m not going. I don’t feel well."

"It’ll pass, come on, Y/n! We never have fun with you."

"Then go alone or with someone else. I’m going to my room."

You left before she could respond. You didn’t want to go. She was too pushy.

•••The Next Day •••

"It’s nothing."

His tone was cold, distant. He barely looked at you, focused on setting his bag on the table.

You frowned.

"Luigi… are you sure you’re okay?"

"Yeah."

He took out a notebook and started flipping through the pages like you weren’t even there. It was frustrating. Usually, even when he was tired, he took the time to talk to you. Now, he was clearly avoiding you.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No." He answered too quickly.

He sighed, closed his notebook, and finally met your gaze. He hesitated.

"Yesterday, you were acting weird. Like… I felt like you wanted to stay, but in the end, you followed her just because she insisted."

He shrugged slightly.

"But hey, you do what you want. I just… thought we were friends."

His expression was neutral, but you knew he wasn’t saying everything.

Your heart clenched.

"We are friends," you replied.

He let out a bitter chuckle.

"Yeah… sure."

You wanted to protest, to tell him it wasn’t that simple. But was that really an excuse? He was right. Why did you keep forcing yourself to follow Elena when you didn’t even want to?

You sighed, searching for your words.

"I don’t want to go to those parties. I’d rather be here, with you, with the others in the club… But I’m afraid that if I say no too often, they’ll stop inviting me."

Luigi finally looked at you, as if trying to read your mind.

"And? Would that really be a loss?"

His question caught you off guard. You already knew the answer.

"No," you admitted.

He nodded, satisfied.

"Then stop making things harder for yourself."

His voice was soft, calming. He wasn’t angry anymore, just… tired of seeing you force yourself.

You smiled slightly.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

He leaned over his notebook and opened it again.

"Alright, are we studying, or are you ditching me again for some lame party?"

You shook your head, amused.

"No, I got the message."

He smirked, satisfied, and started explaining an exercise to you.

•••Noon, Cafeteria •••

You walked through the crowded cafeteria, tray in hand. In the distance, you saw your group of friends. You joined them, but quickly regretted it. Elena. She was talking about you.

"She won, didn’t she? She stole him from me."

You pressed your lips together at her sharp tone.

"Stole who?" one of her friends asked, intrigued.

"Luigi, obviously. She spends all her time with him now. Before, he would never have ignored me like this. Every time I try to talk to him, he always has an excuse. What a coincidence."

"Aren’t you exaggerating a bit? They’re just friends," another voice chimed in.

"Please. You can see how she acts around him. She plays the perfect girl, all mysterious and smart, when before, she didn’t care about clubs or any of that. All just to impress him."

You wanted to ignore it. Pretend you didn’t hear. But…

"What’s your problem, exactly?" you asked, exasperated.

She paled slightly before straightening up, feigning innocence.

"Oh, it’s not a problem. I was just making an observation. If you have a clear conscience, you don’t have to feel targeted."

You crossed your arms and gave her a sarcastic smile.

"A clear conscience? Elena, you talk like Luigi is some trophy we’re fighting over. He’s not. If you want him, go ahead! He’s all yours."

She opened her mouth, then closed it, searching for a comeback.

"And Stole? You never even bothered to talk to him."

Everyone was watching. You were the spectacle of the day. Luigi had heard everything but decided to step in only if things got physical.

Elena let out a nervous laugh, caught off guard. She never thought you’d stand up to her.

"You’re crazy. Ever since you joined that math club, you’ve changed so much. I’m disappointed. Right, girls?" She looked at her friends, but none of them said a word.

"Let me tell you something, Elena—no one likes you, they’re all just pretending. Maybe look at yourself before judging others," you said sharply.

"Without me, you’d be alone."

"I don’t give a damn."

You left the table and sat alone. But Luigi quickly joined you.

"Wow, what a show," he said, impressed.

••• Math Competition Day •••

The atmosphere was tense, but Luigi remained calm, hands in his pockets.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As much as I can be."

The competition started. You quickly solved the first problem, a complex algebra exercise. The second, a probability puzzle, took more thought, but you found the trick just in time. The third was the hardest. Luigi scribbled calculations while you searched for a simplification.

"Wait… we overcomplicated it. Look."

You rewrote the equation, and his eyes lit up.

"Brilliant. Let’s submit it."

A few minutes later, the results were announced.

"The winning university is… University of Pennsylvania!"

Cheers erupted. In the excitement, you jumped into Luigi’s arms. He froze for a second before smiling and wrapping his arms around your waist. Shivers ran down your spine, but you quickly snapped out of it. Luigi would never be interested in a girl. He was far too absorbed in his own life.

Later, after the excitement had faded and the crowd dispersed, you and Luigi found yourselves alone outside the auditorium. The night air was cool, the silence between you thick with unspoken words.

“You were incredible,” Luigi finally said, his voice soft but certain. “We made the right choice letting you join the club.”

You smiled, a little flustered. “Thanks, but I wouldn’t have gotten this far without your help.”

“No, Y/n,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t think you realize it—you’re so much more than what people assume about you.”

You hesitated, then admitted, “Honestly, I took inspiration from you. Every time I saw you in the halls, you always seemed so confident, so passionate about what you were doing.”

Luigi’s eyes widened, almost disbelieving. “Are you kidding? You were so radiant, so out of reach, I couldn’t even bring myself to meet your eyes.”

He laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it—like he still couldn’t believe you were standing here with him now. The way he looked at you—half in awe, half in disbelief—made your heart pound.

“You really thought that?” you asked, tilting your head. “That you couldn’t even look at me?”

He let out a soft breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course. You were everything I wasn’t. Confident, popular, surrounded by people who adored you. Meanwhile, I—”

“You were the one who ignored me first,” you interrupted, stepping closer.

His eyes snapped to yours, surprise flickering across his face.

“You think I never noticed you, but I did,” you continued, voice quieter now. “I saw you in the library, buried in your notes. I saw you in class, always knowing the answer and always raising your hand. And every time I tried to say hi, you looked away.”

Luigi swallowed hard. “That wasn’t because I didn’t care.”

“Then why?”

He hesitated, then exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I cared too much.”

The confession sent a shiver down your heart.

“I liked you, Y/n. I still do.” His gaze flickered to the ground before meeting yours again, full of quiet longing. “But I always thought… someone like you would never—”

You didn’t let him finish.

With a surge of emotion, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. He froze, his breath hitching.

“You’re wrong,” you murmured. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Luigi’s lips parted slightly, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. For a moment, he just stared at you, as if waiting for permission to believe this was real.

And then, hesitantly, shyly, he leaned in.

The first brush of his lips was featherlight, uncertain, but when you didn’t pull away, he kissed you again—deeper this time, his hands trembling slightly where they rested against you. He tasted like warmth and hesitation, like someone who had been holding back for far too long.

Then you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath unsteady.

••• Party night •••

The bass from the party thumped through the walls, reverberating in Luigi’s chest as he stood awkwardly in the corner of the crowded room. A red solo cup dangled from his fingers, untouched, as he scanned the sea of bodies for you.

"Hey, nerd," you purred from behind him, and he turned to see you smirking, your eyes glittering under the strobe lights. You were dressed in a tight black dress that hugged every curve, your hair cascading down your shoulders in perfect waves. You looked ethereal, like you belonged under a spotlight, not in this sweaty, dimly lit room.

"Hey," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing as you stepped closer, your hand brushing his arm. "You okay? You look like you’re about to bolt."

"I’m fine," he lied, gripping his cup tighter. "Just… not really my scene, you know?"

Your smirk softened into a smile, and you reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "I know," you murmured, your voice warm. "But you’re here with me, so it’s our scene. Just try to relax, okay? We’ll have fun."

He nodded, but his shoulders stayed tense, his eyes darting around the room like he was waiting for someone to call him out for not belonging. You sighed, your hand sliding down to his. "Come on," you said, tugging him toward the dance floor. "Dance with me."

"I don’t dance," he protested weakly, but you just laughed, pulling him closer until your bodies were almost touching.

"Everyone dances," you teased, your hips swaying to the beat. "Even you."

He tried, he really did, but his movements were stiff and awkward, and he could feel the eyes of the room on him. You noticed, squeezing his hand. "Forget them," you whispered, your lips brushing his ear. "It’s just you and me, okay?"

Luigi nodded, but the weight of the room was still too much. "Can we… can we leave?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the music.

You hesitated, searching his eyes. "Are you sure? We just got here."

"I’m sure," he said, his voice firmer now. "I just… I can’t do this. Not tonight."

You studied him for a moment before nodding. "Okay," you said, your fingers slipping into his. "Let’s go."

The cool night air was a relief after the stifling heat of the party. You walked in silence back to his dorm, your hand warm in his, and he sighed. "I’m sorry," he said as you reached his door. "I didn’t mean to ruin your night."

"You didn’t ruin anything," you said, brushing your fingers against his cheek. "I just want you to be comfortable, okay? That’s all that matters to me."

He nodded, fumbling with his keys. The quiet of his dorm was a stark contrast to the chaos of the party. You kicked off your heels, your movements graceful even in the dim light. "Better?" you asked softly.

"Better," he admitted, his shoulders finally relaxing. "Thanks for understanding."

"Always," you murmured, stepping closer until your bodies were almost touching. "You know you don’t have to pretend with me, right? I like you just the way you are."

Luigi’s breath hitched as you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. "I know," he whispered, his eyes searching yours. "I just… sometimes I feel like I’m not enough for you. Like you deserve someone who can keep up with you."

Your gaze softened, and you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "You’re more than enough," you whispered against them. "You’re everything, Luigi. Everything."

He exhaled, tension melting from his body as he kissed you back, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you closer. You sighed into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened it, your tongue brushing against his.

Luigi’s heart pounded as you pressed into him, your body warm and soft against his. He’d never felt like this before—like he was the center of someone’s world. Like he was enough.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes dark with desire as your fingers toyed with the hem of your dress. "Help me with this?" you whispered.

His hands trembled as he reached for the fabric, his breath catching as he pulled it over your head. You stood before him in nothing but lace lingerie, your skin glowing in the moonlight.

"You’re beautiful," he breathed, his hands hovering over you like he was afraid to touch.

You chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt. "So are you," you murmured, pushing the fabric off his shoulders. "Now stop thinking so much and just feel, okay?"

He nodded, his hands finally settling on your hips as you kissed him again, guiding him back toward the bed. Your touch ignited something in him, something deep and unspoken, something he never wanted to let go of.

He nodded, his hands finally settling on your hips as you kissed him again, your tongue teasing his. You guided him back toward the bed, your hands roaming over his body as they moved, your touch igniting a fire in his veins.

When you reached the bed, you pushed him down gently, your hands sliding down his chest as you straddled him. “You’re okay?” You asked, your voice soft, and he nodded, his hands gripping your waist.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m with you.”

You smiled, your hands sliding up to cup his face as you leaned down to kiss him again. “Good,” you murmured against his lips. “Because I’m not letting go of you anytime soon.”

You kissed him again, deeper this time, your hips grinding against his as you rocked her hips against his. Luigi moaned into the kiss, his hands sliding up your back to unhook your bra. You leaned back, letting the fabric fall away, and he stared up at you, his breath catching in his throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his hands trembling as he reached for your breasts.

You sighed as he cupped them, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. “Luigi,” you murmured, your hips rolling against his, the friction making him groan.

You reached for the waistband of his pants, your fingers dipping beneath the fabric to brush against his hardening length. “Can I?” You asked, your voice a whisper.

He nodded, his breath hitching as you pulled his pants down, freeing him.

As the night unfolded, his doubts faded, replaced by the warmth of your touch, the softness of your lips, and the quiet promise that, for once, he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch. 2

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 4,000+

Masterlist

————————

Sounds of horns and shouting filled the air outside as you stood on the packed bus. Cramped in from every side, it was hard for you to tell where you were going. Not as if you were paying much attention anyways.

“Okay, you left fish and pasta in the fridge… he could use the tv or read a book for entertainment while you are gone…what about…” You ramble incoherently to yourself.

Even though the storm hit Athens hard yesterday, your studio art professor was still having classes today. Forcing you to leave Triton alone at home. You shouldn’t be nervous. There was no reason to. After all, Triton is a god, he was hundreds of years old.

But…, he was still a child. No matter how old or what type of being he is. He could still possibly injure himself or get into trouble. And that single fact alone made you feel sick to your stomach.

“Is this how parents feel leaving their child alone for the first time…?” You groan to yourself, leaning your head forward so it hits the window in front of you.

“Now Approaching *Athens International School of Art*. I repeat, Now—“ The robotic voice announces over the intercom. At the familiar name of your college, you squeeze your way through the other patrons on the bus to make your way to the doors.

Sweet, sweet air, you think to yourself as soon as you exit the bus. It was starting to get way too cramped in there. So much so, you wondered if it was a safety hazard. Though it wasn’t as if you were one to talk, you left a little boy alone—

“Argh!” You scream out, slapping the cheeks of your face. You needed to stop thinking of Triton. He was going to be completely fine. But, what if…

“I’m getting too attached already…” You groan to yourself. It had only been a day. One singular Day. But you were already smitten by the blonde haired child. “It doesn’t help that he's absolutely adorable as well…”

“Who’s adorable?” A voice calls out from behind you, making you jump in surprise. Whipping around, you let out a sigh once you identify who it was.

“Bryce… how many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that…”

Bryce Kroger. He was studying abroad at Athens International School of Art for a year just like you except he was instead an architecture major. You met him by coincidence while taking art history so you didn’t know much about the guy, the only thing being the few stories he told you about his home country of Australia.

“Oi! It’s not my fault you're so skittish!” Bryce banters back with a huff.

“Whatever…”

“Eh? Wait, where you heading?” Bryce questions as he watches you walk away, “I thought you had Studio Art on Fridays?”

“I do. I’m heading to the library first though.” You yell back to the tall male who stayed put where he was standing. Not even bothering to follow you.

“You need to stop studying so much!”

“Shut up!”

“IT’S THE TRUTH!”

“SHUT UP!” You scream back with one final huff before storming off. So what if you studied so much. You just wanted to get good grades in the classes that counted. It’s how you got here in the first place. By working your ass off.

Unconsciously, you feel your hand twitch as you open the library door. So what if you spent hours studying. So what if you didn’t go out with friends that often. So what if you didn’t have a social life. So what—

You feel yourself pause, your expression turning sour. Lonely. That’s what you were. You were lonely. A miserable lonely girl.

“Miss!”

Startled out of your thoughts by the sudden call, you realize you were no longer standing at the front door but instead standing in front of one of the librarians. You must have unconsciously walked up to the front desk while you were lost in thought.

“A-Ah. Sorry, I was just looking for books on Leonar—“

You feel your voice trail off at the end as a book on the counter catches your eye. It wasn’t the gold detailing nor the leather texture. No. It was the simple words of “Greek Mythology: Tales of Zeus” printed neatly on the front.

“…Actually, Do you perhaps have any books about Poseidon?”

You just found something better to do with your time.

—.—.—.—.—

“Damn… this is extremely confusing…” You mumble to yourself as you glare at the pages of notes in front of you. Each book seemed to be a little bit different from the last. “Perhaps I should recap…”

Okay, so what makes sense to you is that Poseidon is the second eldest of three brothers and is the ruler of the seas. The things that don’t make sense are… practically everything else…

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream out of frustration right now.

According to the books, Poseidon has had many consorts over the years. One of them being Triton’s mother, Amphitrite…

“My mother… can be quite mean to other women. Even to some of the female servants around the palace. She believes that they are trying to seduce my father…”

…but that doesn’t match up with what Triton mentioned last night. According to him, it sounds like Amphitrite scared away any women that would even come near Poseidon. This also leads to another flaw in the mythology books. You doubted that Poseidon would be able to have an affair with any other women with Amphitrite antics, nevertheless have 10 other children with them.

“Triton also never mentioned having any other siblings…”

Letting out a groan, which you seemed to be doing a lot today, you banged your head against the table. It seems like these mythology books weren’t going to be of any help after all. Though…. you couldn’t help but wonder why the books were so off in the first place.

Lifting yourself back up from the table, you glare down at one of the book covers. It was blue, almost silvery in a way, with a giant black silhouette of Poseidon right smack dab in the middle. Or, at least, what Poseidon might look like…

“Well, my father is extremely strong and handsome. All the sea nymphs stare at him with big heart eyes half the time. Oh! B-but, father doesn’t pay any attention to them. Father is not a cheater like uncle Zeus…”

“…Is Father…? Oh. He’s alright… He’s nowhere as bad as my mother. He’s never hit me or anything. He’s just… cold. Extremely cold. He really just ignores me half the time…”

“…I do love my father…I just wished he would at least spare me a glance…you know?…Acknowledge his own son…”

“God damn jerk!” You hiss out in anger as you push the book aside. Your blood practically boiling at even the slightest thought of Triton’s father, Poseidon. He doesn’t deserve to have such a good and nice son like Triton.

However, as much as you want to curse out Poseidon more, you realized class would be starting soon and you really had to get a move on.

“Shit. I can’t afford to be late again.”

—.—.—

“Ugh. Why did the professor have to assign me this type of painter…?!” You whined to Yuri. Class had already ended by then with the professor long gone. The only people left were students that were conversing with others or trying to get a head start on their paintings.

“Well, it didn’t help that you barged into class late for the second time this week, (y/n).” Yuri explained with a sigh as she continued to set up her palette, not even sparing you a glance.

Yuri Saito, Or rather Saito Yuri, was an abroad student from Japan. She was the closest person you knew at the college as you both were similar in many ways. Especially since you were both homebodies.

“I get that but at least I showed up in the fir—“

“(Y/n)!” A voice shouts out interrupting your talk with Yuri. You turn around to see Bella Woods, a student apart of your major, approaching you. “(Y/n). You were part of your student council back in high school right?”

“Uh, Yeah. Why?” You answered hesitantly. You weren’t sure why, perhaps instincts, but you were already having a bad feeling about this situation.

“Well I need your help on something…” Bella explains, her voice trailing off at the end as she grabs something from her bag. It’s a piece of paper, a flier to be exact.

“A…A Cultural Festival?”

Bella nods her head at your words, “Yeah. The college wanted to put something on for the public to show what our art school is all about and Mrs. Yamamoto suggested this. A-Apparently, it’s something schools and colleges do back in Japan.”

“B-But how can I help? Wouldn’t it make sense for someone like Yuri to do this? Since she’s from Japan and all.”

It was the truth. You didn’t know a single thing about japanese culture festivals.

“Hey don’t drag me into this, I’m busy.” Yuri counterbacks with a glare before returning back to her painting.

“Well… you see… The school wanted to change Mrs. Yamamoto’s idea a bit since they really didn’t know anything about Japanese Cultural festivals either. So it’s like a Cultural festival, kind of not.” Bella rambled. You could tell all this information was scrambling her brain as well. “Basically, it’s like a Greek version of a Cultural festival where each major picks a Greek god and plans an event or booth around it.”

“…Okay… So it’s just like a school festival in a way?” You questioned cautiously. This was a lot for you to take in at once.

“Yes. Precisely. We are just taking inspiration from Cultural festivals.”

“Okay. Okay…” You answer as you rub the back of your neck, “I still don’t understand why you need me though?”

“Well, I kind of… kind of saw you reading the mythology books in the library today and we need more people on the planning committee…” Oh, god. It seems like everything is coming back to bite you in the ass, “…Just. Please (y/n), We need your help!”

You let out a small sigh as you watch Bella give you a pleading look, “Fine…”

“Yay—!“

“But…“ You start cutting off Bella’s cheers, “But I’m taking care of something really important right now at home so I can’t always make meetings and things like that. I can help with planning but that’s it. Okay?”

That was correct. As much as you wanted to help Bella and your department out with this festival, Triton was your top priority right now. His care and needs were above all else right now, even your own. So if this would get in the way of that then you would drop this project instantly. Instantly.

“Of course! Oh, thank you (y/n)!” Bella cheers, her body visibly relaxing now that a stress has been taken off your shoulder, “Well, I’m not sure if you're busy right now but… the committee is currently planning two classrooms down… so if you could…”

“I’ll go…” You sighed out. Damn, what’s with you lately. Less than two days ago, people hardly approached you. Now you are as busy as a bee. A person magnetic… Well, more like god magnetic as wel—

Wait, a minute. You feel yourself tense up as a thought flies into your brain. If Gods could travel and spend time on earth, could they live here as well? Just like how Triton wants to?

Shit. What if some that live here are able to identify Triton? You could be in big troub—

“(Y/n)? Are you coming?” Bella calls, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Y-yes.”

It seemed you would have to worry about that later. Not that it mattered right now, you could always just ask Triton when you got home. And even if he didn’t know the answer you would just have to be careful bringing him out of the house. Yeah… you would just do that.

“Guys, I would like to introduce you to (y/n). She’s a fine arts major just like us and knows about mythology. I think she would make a great addition to our group.” Bella introduces you as you enter the room. As you looked around the group of only 4 other people, you realized you really didn’t know anyone.

That is until everyone started to introduce themselves. You never heard of the first three—Brian, James and Kyle—but you found the last name, Marissa Samudra, quite familiar. You wonder if she was that Marissa.

Who you were talking about was Marissa, the hottest girl in school Marissa. Well, at least that’s what all the boys in your major told you. The girl in front of you at least seemed to fit the part. With white silk like skin, light green eyes and dyed coral pink hair, she truly was a sight to see.

“Okay. So shall we get started.” James suddenly spoke up, seeming to want to get the meeting started. You nodded your head in agreement before taking a seat next to Holly. As well as across from Marissa. “Well, I think we should first decide which god we should do. Culinary, Music, Visual performing arts and architecture already have chosen Aphrodite, Hades, Ares and Zeus. (Y/n)…”

You lift your head up at the call of your name.

“…as you know the most about Mythology, who do you think we should pick?”

“Well,…” You feel yourself pause, your palms growing sweaty out of nervousness. You really didn’t know that much about Greek Gods, only the class you took last year and the books you skimmed this morning. You also didn’t expect so many of the main gods to be taken already.

“…How about…”

You needed to think of someone fast. Someone that would satisfy all parties here. Someone that would bedazzle people coming to the festival.

“…Poseidon…?”

Why… Why was that what your brain had come up with? Poseidon? The very god that you were cursing out this morning. Wishing near death upon.

“Fish man?” Brian questioned, letting out a small chuckle at his own joke, “You really want to go with Fish man as our god? Isn’t there anyone better?”

“I think Poseidon is pretty…cool.” You feel a shiver go up your spine as you compliment the man. It was official, you might actually puke. “…He’s the king of the seas. It gives us a lot to work with for his character. Especially since most Fine Arts students are good at realistic elements, we could really do well on painting or using sea life.”

“True… but—“

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

You are shocked as you hear Marissa cut Brian off. When you first sat down, she seemed totally uninterested in the topic at hand. Caring more about her hair and nails than anything else. But now, now, she was paying attention to every little thing. You couldn’t help but wonder why. “Oh sorry. I really like the sea. It holds a special place in my heart… you know?”

Oh, that makes sense. You totally forgot Marissa’s paintings were mostly about the ocean and sea. Never drifting off to other topics.

“N-no. That’s actually pretty cool. You know what, we should totally do Posedin… or whatever the dude’s name is. He sounds really cool.” Bryan agrees as he bashfully rubs the back of his neck. Gross, could he make it any less obvious that he was smitten by her. And not in a nice way either.

You feel yourself shiver as you watch him sneak small glances down at Marissa’s chest area. Disgusting pervert…

“Well, with that decided let’s move on…”

…Great… You could already tell this was going to be a long meeting…

—.—.—.—.—

Again, for what felt like the hundredth time today, you banged your head against the wall. This time however it was against the door of your apartment.

“Seriously… a Café…?”

Yes, a Café. That’s the brilliant idea your group came up with. An under the sea type themed café.

In hindsight it didn’t sound all that bad. You could have a couple of students paint some props and decorations. Then another couple of students who know how to cook plan out the menu. Maybe even borrow some culinary students if you were lucky.

But,… there’s that.

Outnumbered three to two, the boys of your group insisted the girls that are serving customers should wear togas. Togas. They stated it was to bring in more customers but it was pretty obvious they had other intentions behind it. Especially since they didn’t even bother waiting a couple of minutes afterwards to ask if Marissa wanted to be part of the waiting staff.

“Poor girl… I feel bad for her.” You mumble to yourself as you pull out your keys, finally unlocking the door to your apartment. You wished you could just beat all those men senseless with a baseball bat. “That’s actually not a bad idea… Could I bring a wooden club and say that it's part of the character? They seem to not know that much about—“

“Miss (y/n)!” You hear shouted as something comes barreling into you. Knocking you onto the ground right as you enter your apartment. “O-oops I meant to only say (y/n)…”

Even though you got the air literally knocked out of you, you still let out a small chuckle as you reached up to run a hand through the perpetrator’s locks. Triton’s blonde locks. “It’s okay. I only told you this morning to stop referring to me so formally. It will take time for you to get used to it.”

Suddenly, you wince at a feeling of pain as you move slightly. Triton sure was strong. You, honestly, wondered if he held back some strength when he jumped at you. If so, you wondered how strong Triton was nonetheless an adult god.

Speaking of an adult god…

“Hey Triton.” The boy lifts his head up at your call, “Do any gods live on earth?”

The boy seemed to take a moment to think, “Well kind of? Not really Greek Gods though. Most of them are too proud to live with humans.”

“Oh well that’s goo— Wait, a minute! Other gods are real as well!?”

Triton nods his head furiously, “Yeah pretty much all gods. As long as it is considered as one, it exists. There’s Nordic gods…, Indian gods…, Oh! Even Buddha. I like Buddha, even though I’ve only met him once. He introduced me to salt water taffy! It’s delicious.”

“I-I see…I’ll try to get you some then. Another time.” As much as you wanted to hide your surprise you couldn’t. Learning that Greek Gods actually existed was one situation but learning that All Gods existed was a whole nother ball game. Did that mean demons existed as well?

“Hey (y/n). Could I ask you a question?” Triton asks, suddenly seeming bashful all of a sudden.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Could I…” Triton pauses for a moment, “Could I call you…”

You leaned closer to Triton as his voice slowly got softer and softer at the end. His ears and cheeks were bright red as he waited for you to answer. However, you couldn’t answer him as you didn’t hear the last part of what he said.

“I apologize. Could you repeat what you said, Triton? I couldn’t hear the end of it.” You felt bad for asking him to repeat it as his face only seemed to get even more red when you asked.

“I-I… Could I call you… Mom?”

It was silent as his question, or rather request, fell upon your ears. You thought about it for a moment. Especially whether it was morally right for you to have him call you ‘mom’. Even if his true mother was a terrible person, she was still his mother.

Though, then again, She really didn’t act like his mother. Especially in all her hundreds of years of existence of having him. At least from what you’ve heard from Triton. She’s had plenty of chances to show her love for him and she never did.

“Of…Of course you can.”

You feel yourself smile as Triton’s face lit up. And you knew, Deep down inside, that you did the right thing. You would show this boy the love he deserved.

“Hey (Y— Mom.” You giggle at how Triton seemed to practically beam with happiness once the title left his lips.

“Yes, Triton?”

“Could we have dinner right now?”

You feel yourself jump up a little in surprise. Since you stayed later than what you usually would, due to the meeting, you didn’t have anything prepared ahead of time for dinner.

“Ah, yes. Do you think you could wait in the living room while I prepare it?”

“Of course!” Triton answers as he scrambles up off of you. As you make your way to the kitchen—which was technically in the same room as the living room—to start dinner, you find yourself drifting off into your thoughts.

You realized you really hadn’t thought this through. Taking care of Triton and all. Your apartment was small, he didn’t have his own room, he seemed to eat a lot more than a human boy his physical age and so much more.

You wouldn’t be able to buy a bigger apartment right now. Going through college and all. But you could take more shifts at work. After all, it was literally down the street. You were also good friends with the owner of the toy shop next door. You bet he would allow Triton to play with a couple of toys while you worked.

As you continue to list things you would need to take care of Triton especially if it was long term, Triton was watching cartoons on the couch.

“…Wonder cats will be right back!…”

As the show goes to commercial break, Triton feels himself let out a sigh. Television sure was awesome and all, much better than the plays and coliseum matches used to entertain gods, but he despised ads more than anything.

“Who in the world created such a malicious thing…”

Triton’s voice trails off at the end as the ad changes to another. As he stares at the screen, he feels a shiver shoot down his spine. As quickly as he could, Triton changes the channel to another before shakily dropping the television remote. A cold sheen of sweat breaks out all over his skin as he collapses back onto the couch.

To anyone else, the commercial before looked like any normal hair dye commercial seen on Tv. But not to Triton. Especially when he saw something oh so familiar.

“T-that hair color…” Triton feels himself shiver at the thought, “L-looked too much like Aunties. Mom’s…No…

…Amphitrite’s Sister.”

Author Note: Ahhh this chapter contained so much but I knew I couldn’t split it up. Especially if I was doing posting Tuesdays and Thursdays. I was worried that the time frame in between would mess my readers up. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this Chapter. I know there wasn’t a lot of Triton moments but I wanted to get the ball rolling on the plot so that things and certain characters (*cough* Poseidon *cough*) will appear soon. Well that’s it for now, see you next time :)))

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq

[ganymedesclock]

These are questions I've had for some while and it's hard to find someone who'll answer with grace. This mostly relates to disabilities (mental or physical) in fiction.

1) What makes a portrayal of a disability that's harming the character in question ableist?

2) Is there a way to write a disabled villain in a way that isn't ableist?

In the circles I've been in, the common conceptions are you can't use a character's disability as a plot point or showcase it being a hindrance in some manner. heaven forbid you make your villain disabled in some capacity, that's a freaking death sentence to a creative's image. I understand historically villains were the only characters given disabilities, but (and this is my personal experience) I've not seen as many disabled villains nowadays, heck, I see more disabled heroes in media nowadays.

Sorry if this comes off as abrasive, I'd really like to be informed for future media consumption and my own creative endeavors.

Okay so the first thing I'm going to say is that while it IS a good idea to talk to disabled people and get their feedback, disabled people are not a monolith and they aren't going to all have the same take on how this goes.

My personal take is biased in favor that I'm a neurodivergent person (ADHD and autism) who has no real experience with physical disabilities, so I won't speak for physically disabled people- heck, I won't even speak for every neurotype. Like I say, people aren't a monolith.

For myself and my own writing of disabled characters, here's a couple of concepts I stick by:

Research is your friend

Think about broad conventions of ableism

Be mindful of cast composition

1. Research is your friend

Yeah this is the thing everybody says, so here's the main bases I try to cover:

What's the story on this character's disability?

Less in terms of 'tragic angst' and more, what kind of condition this is- because a congenital amputee (that is to say, someone who was born without a limb) will have a different relationship to said limb absence than someone who lost their limb years ago to someone who lost their limb yesterday. How did people in their life respond to it, and how did they respond to it? These responses are not "natural" and will not be the same to every person with every worldview. This can also be a great environment to do worldbuilding in! Think about the movie (and the tv series) How To Train Your Dragon. The vikings in that setting don't have access to modern medicine, and they're, well, literally fighting dragons and other vikings. The instance of disability is high, and the medical terminology to talk about said disabilities is fairly lackluster- but in a context where you need every man you possibly can to avoid the winter, the mindset is going to be not necessarily very correct, but egalitarian. You live in a village of twenty people and know a guy who took a nasty blow to the head and hasn't quite been the same ever since? "Traumatic Brain Injury" is probably not going to be on your lips, but you're also probably going to just make whatever peace you need to and figure out how to accommodate Old Byron for his occasional inability to find the right word, stammers and trembles. In this example, there are several relevant pieces of information- what the character's disability is (aphasia), how they got it (brain injury), and the culture and climate around it (every man has to work, and we can't make more men or throw them away very easily, so, how can we make sure this person can work even if we don't know what's wrong with them)

And that dovetails into:

What's the real history, and modern understandings, of this?

This is where "knowing the story" helps a lot. To keep positing our hypothetical viking with a brain injury, I can look into brain injuries, what affects their extent and prognosis, and maybe even beliefs about this from the time period and setting I'm thinking of (because people have had brains, and brain injuries, the entire time!) Sure, if the setting is fantastical, I have wiggle room, but looking at inspirations might give me a guide post.

Having a name for your disorder also lets you look for posts made by specific people who live with the condition talking about their lives. This is super, super important for conditions stereotyped as really scary, like schizophrenia or narcissistic personality disorder. Even if you already know "schizophrenic people are real and normal" it's still a good thing to wake yourself up and connect with others.

2. Think about broad conventions of ableism

It CAN seem very daunting or intimidating to stay ahead of every single possible condition that could affect someone's body and mind and the specific stereotypes to avoid- there's a lot under the vast umbrella of human experience and we're learning more all the time! A good hallmark is, ableism has a few broad tendencies, and when you see those tendencies rear their head, in your own thinking or in accounts you read by others, it's good to put your skeptical glasses on and look closer. Here's a few that I tend to watch out for:

Failing the “heartwarming dog” test

This was a piece of sage wisdom that passed my eyeballs, became accepted as sage wisdom, and my brain magnificently failed to recall where I saw it. Basically, if you could replace your disabled character with a lovable pet who might need a procedure to save them, and it wouldn’t change the plot, that’s something to look into.

Disability activists speak often about infantilization, and this is a big thing of what they mean- a lot of casual ableism considers disabled people as basically belonging to, or being a burden onto, the able-bodied and neurotypical. This doesn’t necessarily even need to have an able neurotypical in the picture- a personal experience I had that was extremely hurtful was at a point in high school, I decided to do some research on autism for a school project. As an autistic teenager looking up resources online, I was very upset to realize that every single resource I accessed at the time presumed it was talking to a neurotypical parent about their helpless autistic child. I was looking for resources to myself, yet made to feel like I was the subject in a conversation.

Likewise, many wheelchair users have relayed the experience of, when they, in their chair, are in an environment accompanied by someone else who isn’t using a chair, strangers would speak to the standing person exclusively, avoiding addressing the chair user. 

It’s important to always remind yourself that at no point do disabled people stop being people. Yes, even people who have facial deformities; yes, even people who need help using the bathroom; yes, even people who drool; yes, even people whose conditions impact their ability to communicate, yes, even people with cognitive disabilities. They are people, they deserve dignity, and they are not “a child trapped in a 27-year-old body”- a disabled adult is still an adult. All of the “trying to learn the right rules” in the world won’t save you if you keep an underlying fear of non-normative bodies and minds.

This also has a modest overlap between disability and sexuality in particular. I am an autistic grayromantic ace. Absolutely none of my choices or inclinations about sex are because I’m too naive or innocent or childlike to comprehend the notion- disabled people have as diverse a relationship with sexuality as any other. That underlying fear- as mentioned before- can prevent many people from imagining that, say, a wheelchair user might enjoy sex and have experience with it. Make sure all of your disabled characters have full internal worlds.

Poor sickly little Tiffany and the Red Right Hand

A big part of fictional ableism is that it separates the disabled into two categories. Anybody who’s used TVTropes would recognize the latter term I used here. But to keep it brief:

Poor, sickly little Tiffany is cute. Vulnerable. How her disability affects her life is that it constantly creates a pall of suffering that she lives beneath. After all, having a non-normative mind or body must be an endless cavalcade of suffering and tragedy, right? People who are disabled clearly spend their every waking moment affected by, and upset, that they aren’t normal!

The answer is... No, actually. Cut the sad violin; even people who have chronic pain who are literally experiencing pain a lot more than the rest of us are still fully capable of living complex lives and being happy. If nothing else, it would be literally boring to feel nothing but awful, and people with major depression or other problems still, also, have complicated experiences. And yes, some of it’s not great. You don’t have to present every disability as disingenuously a joy to have. But make a point that they own these things. It is a very different feeling to have a concerned father looking through the window at his angel-faced daughter rocking sadly in her wheelchair while she stares longingly out the window, compared to a character waking up at midnight because they have to go do something and frustratedly hauling their body out of their bed into their chair to get going.

Poor Sickly Little Tiffany (PSLT, if you will) virtually always are young, and they virtually always are bound to the problems listed under ‘failing the heartwarming dog’ test. Yes, disabled kids exist, but the point I’m making here is that in the duality of the most widely accepted disabled characters, PSLT embodies the nadir of the Victim, who is so pure, so saintly, so gracious, that it can only be a cruel quirk of fate that she’s suffering. After all, it’s not as if disabled people have the same dignity that any neurotypical and able-bodied person has, where they can be an asshole and still expect other people to not seriously attack their quality of life- it’s a “service” for the neurotypical and able-bodied to “humor” them.

(this is a bad way to think. Either human lives matter or they don’t. There is no “wretched half-experience” here- if you wouldn’t bodily grab and yank around a person standing on their own feet, you have no business grabbing another person’s wheelchair)

On the opposite end- and relevant to your question- is the Red Right Hand. The Red Right Hand does not have PSLT’s innocence or “purity”- is the opposite extreme. The Red Right Hand is virtually always visually deformed, and framed as threatening for their visual deformity. To pick on a movie I like a fair amount, think about how in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the title character is described- “Strong. Fast. Had a metal arm.” That’s a subtle example, but, think about how that metal arm is menacing. Sure, it’s a high tech weapon in a superhero genre- but who has the metal arm? The Winter Soldier, who is, while a tormented figure that ultimately becomes more heroic- scary. Aggressive. Out for blood.

The man who walks at midnight with a Red Right Hand is a signal to us that his character is foul because of the twisting of his body. A good person, we are led to believe, would not be so- or a good person would be ashamed of their deformity and work to hide it. The Red Right Hand is not merely “an evil disabled person”- they are a disabled person whose disability is depicted as symptomatic of their evil, twisted nature, and when you pair this trope with PSLT, it sends a message: “stay in your place, disabled people. Be sad, be consumable, and let us push you around and decide what to do with you. If you get uppity, if you have ideas, if you stand up to us, then the thing that made you a helpless little victim will suddenly make you a horrible monster, and justify us handling you with inhumanity.”

As someone who is a BIG fan of eldritch horror and many forms of unsettling “wrongness” it is extremely important to watch out for the Red Right Hand. Be careful how you talk about Villainous Disability- there is no connection between disability and morality. People will be good, bad, or simply just people entirely separate from their status of ability or disability. It’s just as ableist to depict every disabled person as an innocent good soul as it is to exclusively deal in grim and ghastly monsters.

Don’t justify disabilities and don’t destroy them.

Superpowers are cool. Characters can and IMO should have superpowers, as long as you’re writing a genre when they’re there.

BUT.

It’s important to remember that there is no justification for disabilities, because they don’t need one. Disability is simply a feature characters have. You do not need to go “they’re blind, BUT they can see the future”

This is admittedly shaky, and people can argue either way; the Blind Seer is a very pronounced mythological figure and an interesting philosophical point about what truly matters in the world. There’s a reason it exists as a conceit. But if every blind character is blind in a way that completely negates that disability or makes it meaningless- this sucks. People have been blind since the dawn of time. And people will always accommodate their disabilities in different ways. Even if the technology exists to fix some forms of blindness, there are people who will have “fixable” blindness and refuse to treat it. There will be individuals born blind who have no meaningful desire to modify this. And there are some people whose condition will be inoperable even if it “shouldn’t” be.

You don’t need to make your disabled characters excessively cool, or give them a means by which the audience can totally forget they’re disabled. Again, this is a place where strong worldbuilding is your buddy- a handwave of “x technology fixed all disabilities”, in my opinion, will never come off good. If, instead, however, you throw out a careless detail that the cool girl the main character is chatting up in a cyberpunk bar has an obvious spinal modification, and feature other characters with prosthetics and without- I will like your work a lot, actually. Even if you’re handing out a fictional “cure”- show the seams. Make it have drawbacks and pros and cons. A great example of this is in the series Full Metal Alchemist- the main character has two prosthetic limbs, and not only do these limbs come with problems, some mundane (he has phantom limb pains, and has to deal with outgrowing his prostheses or damaging them in combat) some more fantastical (these artificial limbs are connected to his nerves to function fluidly- which means that they get surgically installed with no anesthesia and hurt like fuck plugging in- and they require master engineering to stay in shape). We explicitly see a scene of the experts responsible for said limbs talking to a man who uses an ordinary prosthetic leg, despite the advantages of an automail limb, because these drawbacks are daunting to him and he is happier with a simple prosthetic leg.

Even in mundane accommodations you didn’t make up- no two wheelchair users use their chair the exact same way, and there’s a huge diversity of chairs. Someone might be legally blind but still navigate confidently on their own; they might use a guide dog, or they might use a cane. They might even change their needs from situation to situation!

Disability accommodations are part of life

This ties in heavily to the previous point, but seriously! Don’t just look up one model of cane and superimpose it with no modifications onto your character- think about what their lifestyle is, and what kind of person they are!

Also medication is not the devil. Yes, medical abuse is real and tragic and the medication is not magic fairy dust that solves all problems either. But also, it’s straight ableism to act like anybody needing pills for any reason is a scary edgy plot twist. 

(and addiction is a disease. Please be careful, and moreover be compassionate, if you’re writing a character who’s an addict)

3. Be mindful of cast composition

This, to me, is a big tip about disability writing and it’s also super easy to implement!

Just make sure your cast has a lot of meaningful disabled characters in it!

Have you done all the work you can to try and dodge the Red Right Hand but you’re still worried your disabled villain is a bad look? They sure won’t look like a commentary on disability if three other people in the cast are disabled and don’t have the same outlook or role! Worried that you’re PSLT-ing your main character’s disabled child? Maybe the disability is hereditary and they got it from the main character!

The more disabled characters you have, the more it will challenge you to think about what their individual relationship is with the world and the less you’ll rely on hackneyed tropes. At least, ideally.

-

Ultimately, there’s no perfect silver bullet of diversity writing that will prevent a work from EVER being ableist, but I hope this helped, at least!

[moonctzeny]

Softer than velvet

pairing: magazine co-editor! mark lee x fem!y/n

genre: smut

warnings: office sex

word count:  2,926

summary: “Mark is a co-editor in the fashion magazine you work for, monopolizing everyones attention with his looks, including yours. Prompted by his vast knowledge about lingerie and his tendency to want to rip them apart, you invite him in your office, and you definitely put him to work”

a/n: inspired by the legendary scene from ‘Community’ and a discussion I had with my bf and best friend about lingerie.

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

He looked dashing again, as always. 

While Monday morning finds most employees in their tousled bed hair, dark eye circles and crooked buttons from hasting to be on time, Mark Lee looks like he jumped out of the fashion magazine you worked for. He was an editor, like yourself, yet the way he confidently strolled through the hallways, capturing everyone’s attention, had executives and employees alike toying with the idea of having him in their bed.

Mark’s shoulders looked even broader in the white shirt he had chosen for the day, neatly ironed and held together with a bright coral tie. A suede brown vest, that would look plain weird on anyone else that would dare pull it off, showed off his tiny waist perfectly, short enough for the workers on the welcome desk to whisper in admiration about his ‘cute perky butt’.

As one of Mark’s many secret fans, you wanted to join in on their giggling, but as his coworker you had to keep yourself from indulging in those dirty thoughts that kept creeping in your head. It was hard to deny this sweet distraction, that perks you up in excitement and turns up the heat of your body.  Like now, that he makes his way towards you in the main lobby, and you wonder how nice his pink locks would look between your thighs.

“Good morning, y/n”, he says when he’s finally standing in front of you, and you almost spill your mug filled with instant coffee in the sound of his raspy morning voice.

“Lee”, you address him almost coldy, but your smirk as you take a sip of the hot liquid gives you away. You can’t stop yourself from checking him out, his new high-end belt begging to be tugged on and used in other ways that it was originally made for. He bites his cheek when he notices your eyes laying on his crotch a second too long but he decides not to mention it.

“Are you going on a cigarette break soon?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes before making sure to lower your voice. “Didn’t you hear yesterday’s briefing? New boss is trying to cut them and apparently so must we. No smoking allowed here anymore.”

“Then you chose the wrong outfit”

He seems satisfied with the little yelp you let out, internally scolding yourself for getting so worked up over his compliment but hell, there’s nothing more you want than to fuck that smile off his face. If that’s what he wanted that’s what he’d get, but you refuse to look all fucked out here in the open just from the mere words of Mark Lee. Not when so many of your assistants were watching.

“We got assigned the lingerie issue together”, you change the subject and start walking towards your offices at the end of the floor. “ I need you to show me your picks later”

“It was hard finding anything worth including, except for Savage X Fenty nothing new is in the game. The La Perla designs are so outdated, and don’t get me started on Fleur du Mal.”

“Wow, you seem to know a lot about lingerie, huh?”, you exclaim, genuinely impressed, and you let him bask in his pride for a little. He runs his fingers through his hair and you catch a whiff of his shampoo, its scent coupled with his cologne highly addictive.

“I love fashion, and it’s kind of my job so I have to keep up. I’m not really a big fan of them, though.”

You raise an eyebrow at his confession, and halt as you arrive outside his office that is a little nearer than yours. Your body is leaning up against the wall, in a way that accentuates the curves of your body and Mark doesn’t try to be discreet in his staring. He might as well raise his hands, go through the layers and layers of palpable sexual tension between you and run them all over your body like you so desperately want.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re pretty”, he starts, and you’re not sure if he’s addressing you, your lips or your decolletage.”But if we were getting down to business and I saw you in lingerie, all I’d think about is how to rip it off of you”

It takes every ounce of self control in your body and the thought of how much you need your salary not to pounce at him, and start removing his clothes right then and there. The masks of professionalism have vanished and so has your patience with him, so you fix his tie, tying it up a little tighter than it needs to be and you love the gasp that leaves his chapped lips. 

“Since you are so knowledgeable Mark, I’m not sure if the lingerie I’m wearing is off-season. How about you come to my office later to hand me your picks and give me your honest opinion?”

He chokes on thin air, the angry veins on his neck twitching from the lack of circulation to his head as he huffs out a chuckle. 

“I’ll be there before the meeting starts”, he promises before slipping inside his office, his hands brushing yours as he slides past you. You bet he thinks he’s smooth, but his reflection on the glass door of his neighboring office betrays him, catching him in the act of staring at your ass as you walk away. You wink at his reflection and he winces when he realizes, but you’ll forgive him. This sweet distraction in the name of Mark Lee was all you needed this boring Monday morning, and you can’t wait to see if your coworker is as skillful as he talks himself up to be.

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

The wait wasn’t long, but it sure was painful, your mind wandering at the conversation you had with Mark this morning and eyes checking the time every five minutes. You’d almost miss his figure in your absentmindedness, standing outside your office, nervously shifting his body weight from one leg to the other. 

The glass separating your office with the main hall was tinted, with a few stripes of clear glass on the very top, giving you a limited view of the people hurrying past. Through those lines you also saw Mark, hesitating to knock and giving himself what looks like a pep talk. You think it’s adorable and decide to take him out of his misery, getting up yourself to open the door.

His mouth drops open when you do, looking like a deer in the headlights with his big doe eyes and binder that is placed -strategically- over his crotch. You smile politely and motion him to come in, your meetup not seeming strange to any passerby, as you have worked together many times in the past. The moment he turns the knob behind him to close the door, Mark drops the designs from his hands, pictures of lingerie flying in the air and landing across the carpeted floor. You barely manage to turn the lock before he pushes you backwards with a hand on your jaw, until you feel the wood of your desk digging against your ass.

You close your eyes and immediately are braced with the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth, the strong aftertaste of cinnamon candy tingling your tastebuds. Bringing him closer by his tie, you let him lift you up the table, legs wrapping around his waist and you verify that he was, indeed, already hard behind that binder. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that”, he murmurs in the kiss and tugs on the roots of your hair suddenly, forcing your head to tilt back and thus expose your neck.

His breath is hot over your collarbones and the feeling of his hardness is driving you insane, so you let your blazer fall from your shoulders before taking off his vest. Mark helps you out by loosening his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt, but you stop him when his chest is almost half-exposed.

“Don’t take it off, you look sexy like that”

He blushes from your compliment, momentarily letting go of his surprisingly dom persona.

“I thought I was supposed to examine your outfit though?”, he asks cheekily and you remove your blouse, revealing the teddy that’s been hugging your body.

It’s black, with a mesh body and velvet lining over the cups and crotch area. The adjustable straps help your boobs look full and round, the velvet strips that are going down, parallel to your body lines, make you look as curvy as ever. 

Mark looks a little lost, like a kid in a candy store and he clears his throat before speaking up again. 

“I need to feel the fabric”, he states, almost too seriously for the situation you were both in currently and he runs his fingers from your belly button upwards to your abs. His fingers toy with the lace adorning the cups and he finally squeezes your boobs. He chuckles at the naughtiness of what you’re doing right now, breaking character, and you’re reminded of how young Mark really is. You free your right boob from its constraint and the sight of your nipple, hard and erect for him, immediately sobers him up. 

His mouth has stayed open in his trance, and you take advantage of it by placing your fingers over his lips, then slowly pushing them in. With his tongue wetting your fingertips, and his big eyes glued on you, waiting for your next move, he really resembles a puppy, and you gloat in the sudden gain of control over him.

When you feel that he’s had enough, or rather, that you’ve had enough, you push your digits out of the comfortable rim of his mouth, coating your nipple with a light layer of his spit.

“So?”, you mewl seductively, “what do you think?”

“It needs to be softer, I think”

You stop massaging yourself, tilting your head in confusion by his critique.

“Softer? What is softer than velvet?”

Mark smirks back at you, hand leaving your breast and travelling south. 

“I can think of something” 

He finds the buttons over the crotch of the teddy, the pieces of fabric they’re holding together damp with your arousal. You shiver when you feel his fingers easily gliding through your folds, teasing your entrance and pinching your clit.

A whine leaves your lips as he removes his fingers momentarily, falling on his knees in front of you. Suddenly remembering where you are, you stretch your body a little in your paranoia, checking if anyone is standing outside your office, witnessing your dirty meetup. But Mark is quick to bring you back up to heaven, with a flick of his tongue over your clit.

“Mmmm, so soft”

He looks so fucking delicious looking up at you, tie discarded on the floor now and lips coated with your wetness and his spit. You can feel the scruffiness of his 5 o’clock shadow slightly scratching the inside of your thighs that are so sensitive and shake in pleasure. Reaching your hands back for any form of stability you knock down some of the stationery, but how can you care when Mark draws circles with his fingers on your entrance?

He pushes in his index, then his middle finger as well, setting a pace that is as slow as it is sinfully pleasurable. Your small office is filled with the sounds of his kissing and slurping, but you can’t ask him to be quiet when you struggle to lower your moans as well. The feeling of the soft pads of his fingers massaging your walls and his tongue sucking on your pussy makes you light-headed, your nails digging in the wooden surface and desperately chasing your high. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and you bite your fist so as not to make a sound, but Mark’s not done yet. 

He places one hand sturdily on your hips, the other cupping your left boob, successfully helping you keep your balance. He keeps lapping up your arousal, sucking on the swollen bud and you swear you see stars. You’re thrashing around in your overstimulation, too close to screaming from pleasure and you grab Mark’s hair to push him away. 

His eyes are blown out from arousal, mouth gasping for air and chin wet with your juices. The desire to have him is animalistic, and you force him up by his collar, replacing his place on the floor.

“My turn”

Unbuckling his belt in swift moves, you manage to free his member from his boxers, bright red and leaking for you. Placing his tip on your tongue, you can taste the saltiness of his precum, and Mark sighs at the warmth of your mouth. You rest your hands on his thighs, looking up to see his pretty face contorted in pleasure when you swirl your tongue around his length. 

“Oh my god, just like that”

Determined to return the favour, you gulp around him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You ignore the burning feeling on your knees and throat and keep him there, until tears are threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. After bobbing your head over his cock, listening to his swears over and over again you can tell he is close, and you start jerking him, slowly picking up your pace.

He lets out a guttural groan when you start palming his tip and he slaps your hand away, taking his dick in his own grasp. “Show me something worth cumming for. I want to see your body”

You fumble with the cups of your lingerie, trying to free your boobs but it’s hard, with the straps getting in the way and the fabric being too sturdy to stretch so far. Mark gets impatient with you taking so long, so he crouches forward, bunching up the mesh in his fists and ripping it in half.

Shocked yet turned on by his action you let the garment drop from your body, leaving you in only your skirt that is bunched up over your hips. Passing the mounds on your breasts you let your hands move lower, and you start to play with your pussy for Mark to see. You’re still so sensitive from your orgasm earlier and you let him know, moaning his name as you expose yourself fully for him.

As he moves his wrist frantically over his shaft, his eyes are glued on your lower lips. They are a raging red at this point, and he’s losing his mind over the look of pure lust painted on your face. He wishes he could paint it with something else but he knows you’re in the workplace, yet nothing can keep him from entertaining the thought.

“Where do you want it?”, he huffs out just a second before he’s reaching his own high and you open your mouth, giving him a silent invitation. He moves his hips closer to you, tapping his tip over your eager tongue and he watches intently at the ropes of cum that are slowly filling up your mouth.

You raise your thumb on your lips, collecting the drops that are spilling from the corner of your mouth and you swallow before Mark can even hand you the metal bin next to your desk. He seems to be in complete ecstasy, chuckling for no reason as he puts his softening member back into his underwear and helps you back into your clothes (or whatever is left from them).

“I’m sorry for ripping your lingerie”, he mumbles finally and you want to coo at how cute he sounds, “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise”

You laugh lightly, helping him at picking up the pictures of the lingerie pieces that are scattered on your floor. “It better be one of your picks”, you tease him, waving the burgundy set you were holding and he licks his lips, picturing you in it.

“Sure. How about I give it to you over some dinner this weekend?”

His offer excites you, so you nod in agreement, and you shuffle awkwardly in the heavy atmosphere of the room. As you pick up the last picture, placing it neatly inside Mark’s binder, you feel his hand wrapping around your waist, bringing you close against him. Instinctively, you kiss him, allowing yourself to get lost in the movement of his lips, that mostly taste like you and you nibble at them lightly. Mark was in the middle of squeezing the softness of your ass, humming in appreciation, when a beep comes simultaneously from both of your phones. It’s the meeting he was talking about this morning and you groan for having to let him go.

He hands you a piece of gum when you both enter the hall and you take it, praying that no one will smell his cologne all over your skin, or notice that you’re going commando under your clothes. One of your co-workers and Mark’s buddy, that you address with a nod every time you cross paths in the office kitchen catches up to you, and throws an arm over his shoulders.

“Mark, my man, you’re glowing today! Wanna grab a bite after the meeting?”

The boy turns his head in your direction, giving you a once over and winking your way, before answering with a smile that is so evident in his voice.

“Nah, thanks. I already ate”

[straighttohellbuddy]

how the light gets in {Corpse Husband}

2. you’ve gone way too fast for way too long.

Summary: Supernatural Creatures AU. Them/Them Reader. After the success of your first stream, you find yourself wanting to get back to your YouTube roots, and what better way to do that than with a cover by one of the bands who holds a special place in your heart? And maybe you’re using it to distract yourself from thinking about how coming back to YouTube means coming back to the things - the people - you’d left behind. 

Maybe it’s selfish, but Corpse kind of wishes you hadn’t come back to YouTube; honestly, if anyone else had taken the world by storm, he wouldn’t complain half as much, except it’s you and he’s still mostly convinced that you might be an angel like him... Except better. Because of course you would be a better angel, you’re talented and driven and personable and essentially everything an angel should be, and - bar the talented bit, Corpse at least knows some of his worth - you’re everything he’s pretty sure he’s not. Except it seems like everyone loves you, and he doesn’t exactly have a good enough reason to be bothered by you the way he is, so he has to act like he isn’t. Which is a lot easier said than done, when you barely say a word to him and it feels like all of his suspicions are confirmed. 

A/N: 8471 words. Reader in the fic is stated to be 24. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SUPERNATURAL THE TV SERIES. me, trying to walk the line between 3rd person omniscient narrator and trying to make the narration feel like its somewhat coming from the POV character?? it’s more likely than you think! as always, i really appreciate feedback.

{ m a s t e r l i s t }

Taglist: @nanasort @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @theboywhocriedlupin @taikalinna @jaychirps @bingusmode @divine-artemis @realmejay @lovemelikepercy @balla-deer @miniritzcrackers @loraleiix @ppopty @easygoingtheatre @insanedeathwish @siriuslystupid @losvertown @janiathecat @wineandionysus @moonlightsimp @allylyew @chokingonflxwers @sicnesa @xxniksxx @mishisamess @preciousskye @yashinosakura @meleekabenjamin @whatamievendoinghere01 @lxurxn-02 @liljennyx3 @the-fusionist @benjaminka @lilysdaydreams @a-lonely-bic @letsloveimagines @melmachh @tama-chan-suneater @shio-yuki @fairywriter-oracle @easygoingtheatre @pixelbxtch @dreammoutlouddd @abysshaven @mediocrearistophanes @tsukishimawh0re @inkbyajm @jordiee95 @honkcorpse @kaiihaan @takenbyheartstrings @mrtony-stank1 @dangeroustreebread @xibrokensunriseix @corpseglider @artsyally @ellsbells2143 @machine-gun-casie @marvelsmurphy @bigmac-papi @danielle143 @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @starstruckllamapuppy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @fee-btheweeb @parkerpeanuts @fanfictionenthusiast @evans-dejong @pancakebinnie @minbunbun @sabrinarahaman @thefangirl05 @jades-bullshit @fo-love @roses-and-grasses @thirstyfangirl @lovelysmp @325575 @wrongcielo @lukathecrime @lunariasilver @delicrieux @rebloogggs @kookiesandtae7 @mizxkii @effielumiere @happyyyandcrazyyy @teenageguitarist @prettylittlealiengirl @aroyalharknessblr @kylie-writes-stuff @annshit @haunteddeputymugpersona 

taglist is always open! message me if you’d like to be added xx

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The day after your song drops, it’s on Spotify’s Top 50 Viral playlist, it’s charting on iTunes, it’s splattered across the internet, according to your manager, who sees fit to text you, congratulating you on what she assumed to be a masterful marketing tactic; releasing the song and immediately streaming alongside huge YouTube creators who have a wide and diverse fanbase, all plugging your music. She thinks it was a carefully calculated move, which makes you feel all kinds of scummy, like you were using your new friends. Thankfully, when you fire a somewhat defensive response about how you had no ulterior motive, that all you wanted to do was have fun and make friends, your tone apparently reads loud and clear, as you receive an apology a few moments later. Backtracking, she simply mentions that, even unintentionally, you had great timing, and she’s glad you had a good time, which is better, and you try not to dwell on your initial assumption. Years of your life had been spent worrying that the people you were close to just thought you were using them for views or fame; her words did little to quell that worry, so instead you tried to distract yourself, or at the very least, focus on the good that yesterday had brought about.

The best, of course, was Sykkuno, the hellhound who’d endeared himself to you almost immediately. Something about him makes you feel safe, though perhaps it’s that you’re unused to someone feeling so familiar; you like to think you’re a good judge of character, so for now, you’re trusting in your instincts, trusting in Sykkuno. The next best thing was a tie, between friends and freedom. Yesterday you’d been doing what you wanted to do, not what you thought you should be doing, not what was on brand, or carefully scripted; you were messy, stumbled over your words, and you laughed and deceived your friends as was the aim of the game, it was so freeing to be unfiltered. People kept saying it was nice to see you smile, to hear you laugh again. Huh. Part of you really doesn’t like that you know exactly what they mean, and more importantly, why people are saying that at all. But things are different now, are freer now; your brand was built on you, it’s nice to get back to that.

By mid-morning, you’d been sprawled out on your sofa for almost an hour, glad to be alone, to not have to worry about being seen, as you’ve phased your tail back into reality, and have it holding up your phone as you scroll through Twitter with one hand and fidget idly with the other. More and more you’re seeing supportive comments from people gushing about the few bars you’d sung of 5 Seconds of Summer’s Youngblood on stream yesterday. First your chat had loved it, now it seems the general consensus was that people would love for you to cover more than a few bars. While you tried not to listen too much to what other people wanted, you couldn’t help but admit that it was something you definitely wanted too.    

When you text your manager, new idea already taking hold of your focus, your earlier unsavoury text conversation seemingly forgotten, your manager reminds you that you should be working on your new album, putting together the tracklist for your EP. Ugh. 

It’s not that you didn’t have ideas, quite the opposite; you’re exploding with ideas, brimming, overflowing with them, for songs you wants to write and feelings you can’t express any other way, but the songs and collaborations you’ve already completed, their mp4 files sitting neatly on your desktop, you wanted to save them for the full album, like it was some sort of penance for getting to collaborate, getting to become friends with people you looked up to, people who inspired you. To you, their contribution was worthy of your full album. 

Well, that was part of the reason, the other part was that the songs you had designated for the album had a different vibe to your EP songs; albumtouralbumtour and imposter syndrome had both been written in lockdown, about very specific concerns you were having at the time. The EP was shaping up to capture a very specific moment in time, while the album was so much more than that. You couldn’t put read at five am on the EP, the collaboration you’d done with Troye, a lyrical-lament with a dissonant, upbeat melody, an apology for when you’re the one who cuts off contact with someone you’re close to and don’t know how to say why, and don’t know how to come back; yes, the fact that you and Ethan are talking again means that the song is technically relevant to this period of time, but it’s three years of regret and indirect apology compressed into in three minutes. It’s going on the album. 

But being stuck at home all day for months had made you all nostalgic for your roots, for when you’d started uploading all the way back in 2012, at 16, with no idea what a few videos would lead to. You missed covering songs you loved, the songs other people had written and that you had still connected with, the songs that made you want to write your own. Yes, you loved your own content, obviously, but from idea to video publishing, you knew a low-effort cover would take you maximum a day and a half if you were particularly inspired, which you clearly were. By now, you’d been doing this for so long that you knew the legality of it all like the back of your hand, and were in a stable enough place to be more than happy to pay royalties to the band you’d co-headlined alongside for your first international tour.

“What if I call the boys and ask them?” You decided to just call your manager directly, tail curled securely around your phone where you’d put her on speaker, pottering around your kitchen trying to find something to eat. Alison, on the other end of the line, sighed deeply, having been fielding these sorts of calls from you about once a fortnight since lockdown had started.

“Have you finished moment before impact yet?” She countered, and you wrinkle your nose; its as if she can hear the expression through the phone with the way she continues on, not giving you a moment to cut in, “listen, I won’t tell you what to do, but you need to make a decision about your EP tracklist soon, okay? The label’s breathing down my neck, you know you have more than enough songs for it.”

“Alison, the vibes -”

“The vibes, Y/N, I know,” she sighed deeply, but you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.

“I promise I’m working on my own stuff; I think moment before impact is gonna be a collab, but I’m not sure who with yet, but if it makes you happy, once I record this 5SOS thing, I’ll work on a demo of moment for the EP,” you concede, and you hear her hum in approval, “I promise I have all the songs in my head, I just gotta make sense of which ones are the right ones for now, you know?”

“I really don’t,” you could hear her actually smiling now, so you let yourself relax for a moment, hands braced on your kitchen counter as you looked to your phone, “but I suppose that’s why you’re the musical one and I’m the manager.”

“My favourite manager,” you told her sweetly, and her answering laugh is more of a snort. 

"Call the band, maybe they can work something out for you regarding royalties, if you plan to monetise it," she suggested, and you hummed, "keep me updated, okay? Make sure you're still working on your own stuff though."

"Alison you're a national treasure," you tell her feelingly; you don't even have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes.

But you take her advice, sending 'what if I covered Youngblood and posted it to YT? I'll pay you royalties' to the mostly dormant WhatsApp group you have with 5 Seconds of Summer, despite it being about six in the morning in Australia. Callum sends back a thumbs up almost immediately. Its all the confirmation you need to get started.

As you’re hunting through your house for a pick, turning over cushions, looking through junk drawers, you hear your phone go off, and you take a moment to check, surprised by what you see. A message from Sean. Huh.

[I see you’ve finally decided to join us in the gaming community, took you long enough 😊 If you ever wanna play something, just gimme a yell, you know Id be glad to have ya on my team.]

Considering the fact that it had been three years since you and Sean had properly been in contact, you find the message both surprising, and strangely heartwarming. There were a few people you’d purposefully fallen out of contact with, plagued by your own fears and self doubts. The people who you’d seen in person almost daily were the ones who you’d felt the absence of the most, but Sean, just by his close association with those people, along with a few other international friends, had been regretfully left behind also. Here and now, you can feel just how much you’ve missed him, how guilty you feel for giving in to your own anxieties and the negativity spewed by others. 

But you know you can’t dwell on the past, on your mistakes, all you can do is be grateful for the opportunity to reconnect, and take it.

[ID: A tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter and @goldeny/n, followed by a single tweet by @ZeRoyalViking, and a tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter, and @5SOS.

@yourtwitter: someone yell at me for doing another cover instead of my original stuff. quarantine got me feeling 17 again. might do the cinnamon challenge next. or finally do that Roast Yourself trend 4 years too late. | @golden_y/n: BRUH YOU BEST NOT BE PULLING OUR LEGS | @golden_y/n: I would empty my bank account to see you roast yourself. | @yourtwitter: Please Don't Do That YouTube Is Free | @golden_y/n: 😳💀💖

@ZeRoyalViking: stream today with some familiar and not so familiar faces!!

@yourtwitter posted an image of Griffin McElroy from the My Brother My Brother & Me TV show. Griffin is a Caucasian man wearing glasses and a blue checked shirt. He is visible from the chest up and is sitting behind a desk with one arm in front of him, with his thumb out, as if counting. The image’s subtitles have been edited, now reading ‘My friends are very much into the following: Bullying me on TikTok.’ | @yourtwitter: @luke5SOS is just mad im gonna sing his song better than him. he doesn’t use twitter anymore so i have the upper hand here. | @5SOS replies with a gif of Jason Momoa, who is incredibly muscular, with dark hair down to his shoulders, a black tank top, and sunglasses on, holding a microphone, standing in a confrontational manner, captioned ‘No, no, no. By all means, speak your mind. You got a problem with my boy?’ | @yourtwitter: HE WENT LIVE UNPROMPTED TO TELL PEOPLE ABOUT HOW I WROTE NOTIMETOSLEEP IN THREE DAYS WITH NO ACTUAL SLEEP, OPENED FOR THEM IN ARIZONA, AND IMMEDIATELY PASSED OUT FOR 16 HOURS AFTER WALKING OFF STAGE | @5SOS: we just miss you tho... and it is kind of funny. | @yourtwitter: the minute im allowed to safely leave lockdown im coming to australia to german supplex the lot of you. ❤️

End ID.]

Corpse’s whole ‘not thinking about you’ plan goes down a lot smoother when you’re not actively stealing his friends- what kind of Angel goes around stealing another person - another Angel’s, no less - friends?! Except, right, he doesn't actually have proof that you're an angel, just a hunch he’s apparently committed to... and, okay, you don't know you're stealing them... Sykkuno and Rae are allowed to have more than one friend. Obviously.

"Honestly, I'm still kind of riding the high from yesterday's stream," Sykkuno’s all kinds of elated in the voice chat, and Rae's quick to chime in, matching his tone, his energy, as she agrees.

"I cannot believe Y/N played with us! I’m sorry you missed it, Corpse, I think you'd love them," Rae is adamant, to which Corpse, from behind the safety of his monitor, makes a face.

"What makes you say that?” Even as he says it, as he tries to keep the negativity from his voice, his nose wrinkles, the expression shifting his eyepatch just a little.

“I don’t know, just something about...” Rae’s voice turns thoughtful as she considers, though Sykkuno takes the chance to pipe up, voice brimming with his trademark sincerity.

“You guys have weirdly similar vibes, like kind of a similar energy?” He tries to explain before a faintly embarrassed laugh escaping him, even with Rae humming in agreement, “not the exact same, obviously, but like, I don’t know, I think you’d really like them.” The problem with having Sykkuno for a friend is that he’s almost always trying to be genuinely kind or helpful. The problem is that Corpse can tell he believes what he’s saying. 

An angelic ability that often goes overlooked, even by angels themselves, is the innate ability to tell whether or not someone’s lying. It’s like a faint buzzing, low grade tinnitus, at the sound of a lie, something that can actually be pretty effectively ignored and forgotten, but right now, the lack of buzzing with Sykkuno’s words is frankly irritating. Not that Corpse can say that, he has no real reason to be jealous of your fast forming friendships with his friends, well, not any reason he can admit to on stream.

"You know what,” Sean muses, finally joining the conversation, “It’s been a while since I properly spoke to them, but I totally get what you mean,” fucking great; of course he agrees, “did anyone invite them to play; would love to have them here if they’re up for it.” 

"I think they're working on a thing today, but I can message and ask?" It’s Sykkuno who speaks up, the barest hesitation in his voice, and to that Rae makes a proud little noise in the back of her throat. 

"You met yesterday on the stream that I organised, and suddenly you're all best buddies? Gonna be honest, I’m a little jealous,” she admits, to which Sykkuno huffs a soft laugh, uncertain of what to say, though Rae’s tone is fond and she continues on, “seriously though, good for you, dude, finally getting the recognition you deserve -"

And on the one hand, yes, Corpse would agree that Sykkuno deserved infinitely more recognition and praise than he currently received, but on the other, the speed at which you two had aparently become close - a day! It had been a day! - sets Corpse’s teeth on edge. It was all he could do to keep quiet as the others chimed in, all their sentiments mirroring Rae’s.

All this frustration and resentment was almost definitely unhealthy, he was more than aware, but something about you had fixed in his mind; if it had been anyone else, anyone less talented or personable or productive, he could have probably handled it, but you...

All he gets is two games worth of peace before Sykkuno announces that he’s gotten a reply. Aparently you’re in the middle of recording a cover. Something about knowing that fills Corpse with discomfort, with envy, like he should be working on his music instead of being here. 

"But they say they're gonna take a break in an hour or say, so they might join us for a few games," Sykkuno’s tone betrayed his bright smile, and suddenly the voice chat was flooded with excitement from almost all in attendance. 

"Wait, really? Just like that, we'll be playing with Y/N?" Leslie sounds disbelievingly hopeful, but thankfully it’s only a few moments until the next game beings. While none of the others had picked up on Corpse’s silence, his chat seemed confused. Purposefully ignoring their questions and comments on the matter, he instead gives a few comments on the game, trying to come off lighter than he was feeling. 

He’s not quite sure what he’s going to do if you join the stream, he’d never actually considered that he might one day talk to you, have to confront the person whose very existence got under his skin, who might very well be the only other person like him on this side of the world. Unsurprisingly, his head’s not in the game.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?” Rae feels the need to ask when whatever response he’d given in a meeting had just come out as an incoherent mumble. Of course he straight up laughs at her question, which is answer enough, and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, “you’re impossible.”

“Have you drunk any water today -?”

“Sykkuno you’re dead,” Sean interrupts Sykkuno, who had broken one of the main rules of the game simply to question Corpse about his health; he’s far too caring for his own good, but moments like this make for good entertainment, “dead people can’t talk,” Corpse is grateful for all of five seconds before Sean turns on him, reiterating Sykkuno’s question like a traitor; “Corpse, have you drunk water today?” In lieu of a proper response, Corpse groans, playing at being annoyed.

“I say we vote him out because if he is the imposter, we win, and if he isn’t, he has time to go drink a glass of water,” Rae proposes matter-of-factly, which just leaves Corpse spluttering with disbelief.

“That’s fucking stupid; I’m not the imposter, you’re basically throwing the game -” but the votes are already popping up, and unfortunately, for the first time all stream, everyone seems to be in agreement.

“Drink water, Corpse,” Rae, clearly the leader of this mutiny, orders, as Corpse watches his character get flung into lava, and very begrudgingly heeds her words. He takes his sweet time drinking a full glass of water and refilling it to take back with him, intermittently glaring from his kitchen at his computer, despite the game still going on; he’s got several tasks left, if they don’t catch the imposters, they’re doomed, and honestly he doesn’t care. Once the game ends, with the crewmates’ loss, as he’d suspected, they all find themselves back in the lobby. Maybe they’re waiting for him. They can wait longer.

As he settles himself back into his office chair, he pulls on his headphones in time to hear -

“- earlier than I thought because of a whole thing on TikTok and then Twitter, and then my manager texted me telling me-” It’s like he’s turned twenty again at the sound of your voice; you, bright, earnest, rambling to probably Sykkuno or Sean or Rae, probably not even aware of him, but he’s never been more aware of you. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but your second EP, hyperfocus, had been in heavy rotation on his Spotify since he’d discovered it, since he’d listened to the crack in your voice, the exhaustion with which you spoke on i’m going through some stuff when Lofi had just been taking off as a genre. He’s... conflicted, going through an internal crisis while you keep talking, blissfully unaware, “- anyways, I think she’s just worried that I’ll end up threatening to German Supplex Harry Styles, or the late, great, Prince, and I’ll end up cancelled.”

“Y/N,” your name sounds equal parts amused and concerned as Sykkuno says it, with the air of someone who’s been privy to you and your antics far longer than just one day. The response you give is just as bright and cheery as your rambling had been, assuring him that you wouldn’t threaten to German Supplex Prince.

“You sure about that?” Sean was obviously grinning, judging by his fond tone, “sounds like something you’d try -”

“I’ve changed, Jack- Sean- fuck,” your muttered swear undercuts your attempt at earnestness after you correct yourself, clearly not used to calling him by his actual name. To that, Sean gives a fond chuckle, before going right back to ribbing you.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still video evidence of you trying to square up with Mark in person,” Sean points out, to which you grow huffy and defensive, playing up your frustration. 

“Well, that was for a completely reasonable reason!”

“Which was?”

“I thought it would be funny,” tone flipping completely, the words come out so sincere and bright it’s almost tooth rotting; if he didn’t know any better, Corpse would probably find himself being endeared by it, “and it was! Plus,” though here you give pause, and something about the tone of the conversation shifts as you chew on the words you’d almost said without thinking, “it was funny,” you said, softer this time. Sean, sensing the shift, does his best to pick the mood back up, reminding you that both you and Mark lost the competition you’d been taking part in anyways, and asking if you really had changed.

Before you had time to answer, however, Rae spots Corpse’s avatar moving ever so slightly, and immediately jumps on him.

“Corpse! Did you drink water?” She asks. He unmutes so they can all hear his deep, beleaguered sigh. “I can and will bully you into taking care of yourself,” her heart’s in the right place, and it is mostly a bit, so he can’t be too put out by the fact that she cares.

“I can’t believe you all voted me out because of it,” he chooses to respond instead, and Rae’s cackle echoes through the voice call.

“She also was the imposter, so...” Ze trailed off, a little sheepishly, to which Corpse rolled his eyes, not that anyone can see. Of course she was. But he’s not even given a moments before -

“You must be Corpse!” The moment the words leave your lips, every single goddamn nerve in Corpse’s body feels like it’s alight; everything overwhelming, unfamiliar,. white-hot, he’s suddenly desperately trying to keep his various abilities in check, since he really doesn’t want to short out his whole system, end the stream early, and probably cause his building to go into a blackout, just because of whatever this is. The whole world has changed with four words; better and worse and more more than anything. It’s... it’s a confirmation of some kind, and he tries to hold onto that vindictive feeling in his chest. You are familiar, you are something he recognises like no-one else he’s ever met before; you are like him. Is it better or worse now he knows it’s the truth?

“Must I be?” He manages to respond, keeping his voice as level as he’s able, shooting for vaguely amused and trying not to let any of the past few seconds sudden overwhelming panic and triumph bleed into his voice. But the moment you hear him, there’s a sharp gasp; that same something, understanding, recognition he’d felt, you feel it too.

“Y/N, you okay?” Ze had asked, and you made a vaguely muffled noise of unconvincing confirmation. Out of sheer, idle curiosity, Corpse opened a new tab and searched up your YouTube channel where you were streaming.

“Maybe we should have warned ya’,” Sean offers with a light laugh, before lowering his voice, immitating and announcer as best as he could, “warning! Corpse is about to speak!” Which at the very least got Corpse to laugh, though he refused to give anything away as your stream loaded, and the banter continued in his ears.

“Har har,” you muttered sarcastically into the voice chat, right as the stream finished loading, and - you. Well dressed, face in your hands, heels of your palms pressed against your closed eyes; honestly, he doesn’t exactly have any prominent initial thoughts about you, watching you scrunch your face up in your hands, dealing with the same thing he had to, though your face was live to thousands. Beside you, the text chat for your stream was going almost too fast to read, but he managed to follow a few threads of thought here and there.

[an eye thing! they’ve got an eye thing!] [someone @ y/n_creature_spec on twt!!] [who has an eye thing??] [lmao love that they were so shocked hearing corpse that it set off their eye thing] [hello!! vampire here!! we have eye things!!] [u cant be a vampire it’s the middle of the day] [THERE ARE COUNTRIES OTHER THAN AMERICA YOU KNOW] [i am willing to put MONEY on the idea of them being fae of some kind.] [^^yeah they just didnt want us to see their eyes sparkling like an anime character.] [that feels like smthn corpse could bring out in people]

And then you’re blinking back to reality, bringing him from his thoughts as for one terrifying moment, it’s as if his gaze locks with yours. Expression so bright and inviting, despite the way your eyes were watering just a little, you hold eye contact with your camera for a moment before looking at your screen, mumbling something about an eyelash in your eye; Corpse lets out a shaky breath. Chat seems unconvinced, but at least the other streams take you on your word. For a few more moments, he quietly watches you, watches the way your eyes roam your screen as you order your thoughts, and for all that he’s thought of you, he’s never properly looked at you. It’s taken him until now to acknowledge that there was definitely a reason for your success beyond just your talent; certainly you could have become successful from your music alone, but your career certainly wasn’t hindered by the fact that you’re actually quite- suddenly, Corpse is overcome by the sense that he’s intruding, exiting out of the window immediately, even going so far as to push back from his desk, fingers spread wide, braced against the edge, trying not to think too hard about... any of it. If he thought too hard about what it meant to have another angel in LA, he would drive himself mad.

“Well, Corpse, it’s good to meet ya, been told great things,” to him and him alone it’s so clear you’re trying so hard to play it cool, though Corpse couldn’t fault you for that, doing the exact same thing; again, when you speak to him, it’s like his whole being is hit with a rush of warmth; it’s less overwhelming this time, somehow scalding but bearable now.

“I see Sykkuno’s been spreading lies about me,” Corpse fires off instinctually, to which Sykkuno splutters protests at the implication, despite your bright laughter, and Sean’s shout to the contrary.

“Don’t be mean, Corpse, Sykkuno would never lie about you,” Sean is adamant, and Corpse can tell he’s being honest, just as the tell-tale ringing in his ears knows the next words from Sean’s mouth are utter lies; “me on the other hand? Y/N whatever you do, do not listen to Corpse’s music, it’s just the worst.” Before the implication, the reality of what he’s saying sinks in, for just a moment, Corpse feels a rush of affection for Sean, so clearly and earnestly plugging his music, right before your voice re-joins the chat and Corpse remembers exactly who Sean is plugging his music to.

“Fuck you, J- Sean, I do what I want,” while you played along, amused and light, Corpse himself was at a loss for words. You ask him - him specifically, he knows, he knows with absolute certainty you’re asking him - if he’s a musician, and everyone else chimes in before he can even think about finding his voice.

“Don’t search him on Spotify! Don’t do it!” Sean, on the verge of laughter, seems delighted by the turn this conversation has taken as the sound of aggressive typing fills the chat from your end. What the fuck. What the fuck?! No matter his thoughts and opinions about you and your possible supernatural origins, you were still Y/N, literal Grammy winner and Golden Child from the Golden Age of YouTube, playing along as Sean used the world’s worst reverse psychology on you to get you to listen to his music. Oh fuck, this is not how today was meant to go.

“I don’t wanna hold up the game, I’ll listen as I play,” you tell them, almost painfully polite, though Ze agrees to start the next game. If Corpse’s mind wasn’t in the game before, there’s no way in hell it was now.

Three minutes into the first round and he’s failing miserably at card swipe when he chances a look at his chat; people were spamming lyrics from Miss YOU! and Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life! which was sweet but nerve wracking, since he’s pretty sure it means you’ve already listened to one and moved on to the next. If you’re an angel, and you know he’s an angel, what in the hell would you think of his music? Honestly, even if you weren’t an angel, you’re still you, and his music was... well...

When the first meeting is called, and it’s discovered that you’ve been murdered, there’s a strange sense of relief that comes with it, even as he’s being accused of your murder. He’s got a solid alibi, so they end up voting out Sean, and the game continues. Despite the brief reprieve from your possible judgement, his heart still feels as though it’s skittering erratically around his ribcage. 

Rae comes along when he’s doing Simon Says, and shoots his little avatar. The moment he becomes a ghost, he lets out a long breath, giving himself a moment to relax, to collect his thoughts, catching back up with some questions with chat  he hadn’t quite realised he’d been holding, and chances a look at his chat again.

“Of course I’m tense,” he finds himself musing quietly to his chat while the remaining players were arguing over the top of each other in a meeting, “pretty sure most of hyperfocus has been in my Spotify wrapped every year since it was released,” for a few moments, it doesn’t even occur to him what he’s said, or that he’s said it out loud, but when it hits him- oh, oh no, it feels like too much to admit, and he has no idea what to say next, how to backtrack, how to at least pretend like he doesn’t think about you or your music any more than any other person would. However much he may resent certain aspects of it, he still knows he has a reputation to uphold, and panic and denial have never been a part of his reputation.

So he keeps his mouth shut, bites down on the half-hearted excuses and explanations that keep springing to mind, keep pressing against his teeth. He does his tasks quietly, thanks the people donating, and pretend it never happened until the round ends, heart in his throat. He knows, the same way a human survivor in a zombie apocalypse movie knows, that he’s just putting off the inevitable, and that someone’s definitely already clipped it and is probably uploading it to Twitter or Tumblr faster than he could protest.

“Y/N I’m so sorry!” Sean’s the first one to talk when they’re back in the lobby, which leads to your laughter filling the voice chat, telling him it’s okay.

“I didn’t even care, honestly I was just vibing,” the smile in your voice is almost enough to distract from the strained edge to your words, something not quite right, but so faint Corpse isn’t sure if it was really there, and he’s not quite sure anyone else heard it either. Except -

“Y/N?” Sykkuno says your name like it means something that no-one but you and him can decipher, something concerned, almost a question, checking in without being too obvious. 

“Yeah?” There’s that strained tone, just a little more audible this time, before you process who’s talking, how he’d said your name, and - “yeah,” firmer, calmer, a reassurance. 

“Vibing?” And he says it like that was his question all along, like the two of you hadn’t had a full conversation in three words. When the others started asking about what you thought of the music, it’s clear none of them have picked up on the hint of strangeness that had been in your tone, and you deliberate before answering.

“Am I- is it- it’s weird if I quote it, isn’t it -?”

“Jacksepdicy how I whip that!” Sean practically yells into his microphone, cutting you off and somehow making the line sounding even more Irish than he himself did naturally, which startles a laugh from Corpse, “it’s my name in a song, I think about it daily,” he announces, voice oozing pride, and despite the situation and headspace he found himself in, Corpse feels his heart grow warm knowing that even a line like that had brought Sean joy.

“I thought,” you pause for a moment, presumably to double check which song you were about to reference, “I thought Miss YOU was a whole mood,” you admit, the faintest smile in your voice, and something tightens in Corpse’s chest at that.

“You not gonna quote it?” Rae teased.

“Too nervous to follow Sean,” you fired back.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there one day, Y/N,” Sean laughs fondly, and you all joke around, playing up the bit, while Corpse’s mind is stuck on the fact that you never once addressed him when talking about his music. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it meant he didn’t have to deal with the sudden, fiery sensation your voice brought with it, so not bothered, persay, if anything he’s glad to know you liked it... But it’s weird that he knows so acutely -

“Hey,” and you don’t even say his name, but there’s that feeling again. Each time it grows less intense, like he’s been inoculated, and no instead of his nerves being ablaze, it’s as if he’s suddenly sitting beside a bonfire, each and every time you speak to him. The others voice their confusion at your sudden vaguness, but Corpse answers without even thinking, because of course he knows.

“Yeah?” 

A few moments pass, while the others carry on amongst themselves for the moment. The two of you sit in this one moment together, neither quite sure how to feel about it.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you point out, though there was only the barest him of the earlier strangeness in your voice, now overpowered by something that made it almost sound like you were pleased. At this, however, even more confusion arises when the others figure out that Corpse had ‘guessed’ correctly, that you’d been talking to him. But he can’t really hear them, or, well, he finds himself tuning them out, swallowing hard before he pushes to talk.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” He asked, trying to ignore the weirdness of it all, keeping his tone light.

“I’m just surprised; it’s your music after all.” 

“You like hearing my voice?” Despite the surprisingly cocky way with which he speaks, he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, wincing internally. Of all the people he could have said that to...  

“I never said that,” and though your own tone matched his, something teasing, something that could almost be misconstrued as flirty in the right circumstances, he’d heard the faint thread of discomfort, feeling it all too much himself. But your words, and thankfully your tone, was overshadowed by both Sykkuno and Sean jumping in to assure Corpse that they enjoyed hearing his voice.

“If you and Y/N ever collaborated, you know it’d break the internet, right?” Rae interjects, all kinds of smug and knowing, followed by a chorus of approving voices all broke out in unison as the rest of the lobby considered the possibility.

“Rae, you know our Twitter mentions are going to be going off for the next month now, don’t you?” You groaned.

“Maybe it’s a sign!” Rae exclaimed, delighted, before her tone turns teasing and fond, “and besides, aren’t your mentions always going off?”

[ID: The first four posts on Y/N’s Tumblr dashboard.

blueheart-anon hearing y/n and sean interact again after like 3 years unlocked memories like im a fucking sleeper agent. having war flashbacks to 2017′s ‘y/n is septiplier’s kid’ phase. how do i lock the memories up again im going to die of embarrassment why were we like that [tagged: #y/n #y/n y/l/n #jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin #i WILL NOT add the ship tag i mentioned #blue talks] [7 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

fangloriousbastard  ↪️fangloriousbastard fangloriousbastard Rae: Y/N & Corpse Collab When? Y/N: 🔪 - fangloriousbastard Y/N IMMEDIATELY MURDERING RAE AND THEN CORPSE I- - fangloriousbastard Y/N MUTTERING THE JACKSEPDICY LYRIC WHILE MURDERING HIM WTF IS HAPPENING?? - fangloriousbastard SYKKUNO NO BBY IM SO WORRIED - fangloriousbastard Y/N IM BEGGING U TO STOP SAYING CORPSE LYRICS BEFORE U KILL UR FRIENDS - fangloriousbastard WAIT WHAT Y/N AND SYKKUNO BOTH VOTING FOR THEMSELVES INSTEAD OF EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard “ride or die guess im gonna die” y/N PLEASE U MET HIM YESTERDAY - fangloriousbastard y/n’s still listening to corpse’s music we love to see it - fangloriousbastard WAIT NO ZE KILLED SYKKUNO IN FRONT OF THEM AND THEY WON OMG SO MUCH IS HAPPENING DID THESE MOTHERFUCKERS QUOTE AN ACTUAL THE OFFICE MEME AT EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard Y/N: YOU KILLED MY BOY Ze: you’ve known him A Day! Y/N: you don’t have all the facts Ze: which are? Y/N: I love him. Y/N: Not in a weird, shippy way tho, but like, come on, man, look at him! Sykkuno’s avatar: 🌱                          👁👄👁 Sykkuno irl: 🥰 - fangloriousbastard ahem anyways corpse & y/n collab when? - y/n 🔪❤️ - fangloriousbastard 👁👄👁 - fangloriousbastard aren’t you supposed to be streaming?? [tagged: #HEWWO??? #among us lb #why do i only remember they’re following me when i post outrageously stupid content #btw y/n if u kill sean again i’ll cry] [43 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

fyahproof-y/n  ↪️ selkiey/n selkiey/n y/n’s explicit ‘i love him but not in a weird shippy way’ is the LOUDEST fandom vague i’ve ever heard in my life [286 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

crpshsbnd  ↪️ 221b-theres-a-bee crpshsbnd hope corpse is feeling okay he’s been kinda quiet this stream - 221b-theres-a-bee if someone suggested i make music with a grammy award winning artist i might be kind of quiet too - crpshsbnd asjdskldfjkdsf u right, still, hope that’s the reason. [tagged: #how do i always forget they won a grammy #actually i know why i keep forgetting #because every time i remember they won a grammy i remember the video where they jousted corndogs with joe sugg #and the winner had to deepthroat theirs for the camera #and y/n won but felt like an asshole for making joe deepthroat his corndog alone #and they ended up almost throwing up because they went too far with it #so hot #so talented #so very stupid sometimes] [3 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

Twitter is kind of a hellscape, Corpse decides, scrolling through his notifications as the stream’s winding down, seeing about a thousand different people tagging both you and him, asking for a collab, or seeing fit to show you both every single time one of you had mentioned the other in stream. Or had simply interacted. He’s not quite sure how to feel about hearing you mutter ‘make it rain, leave her wet, like a snowflake’. Unsurprisingly, a considerable few people had thought to clip the interaction where he’d apparently instinctively known you were talking to him, which he thoroughly regrets. There’s enough speculation about him online already, he doesn’t need people cluing into the fact that he might not be entirely human as well.

So now, he’s sitting idle in the lobby of the game as everyone’s thanking each other, discussing when they might get together to stream again; he’s quiet, disconnected from it all even though he knows he’s still live, he can’t help but stare at his phone, frown at your Twitter profile. You’re not following each other. A lot of his friends follow you, are mutuals with you, but you and he are not following each other, and he’s not sure if he’d like to change that. But it would make sense, right? It’s what’s expected.

Your pinned tweet is the single you released yesterday, which he still hasn’t listened to. The cover is cute; you’re - fuck. He refreshes the page. In the few moments since he’d clicked on your profile and now, you’d tweeted, thanking everyone for joining the stream, while you’re still in his ear, alongside everyone else, distinctly not addressing him. Maybe he should DM you, be upfront, ask about what you are, if his suspicions are true.

He hits the back button and goes back to scrolling through his mentions. 

“Hey.” Your voice, soft and earnest despite that warmth that crackles through him; he’s half distracted, hand moving instinctively to push-to-talk, and -

“Yeah?” God fucking damn it. Not again. He’s really gotta stop answering on instinct just because he knows you’re talking to him. He hates that he knows.

“Good to meet you, Corpse,” and there was a strange sincerity in your voice, and he responds in kind, but his heart’s not in it. There’s too much on his mind, too conflicted in his heart to tell the truth; his own words makes his ears ring. He can’t even lie to himself.

So he says his goodbyes, waits for the lobby to clear out and chatters away to his stream about when he might be on next. Upon ending the stream, he immediately opens the latest email from his producer, his latest project glaring back at him from the screen. 

Yes, his various ailments have his body aching, but the interactions he’s had with you are giving him a headache when he thinks too hard about them, and he feels woefully unproductive. Never Satisfied stares back at him, so close to being finished, mocking him. Scowling harder, he listens to what he has so far, making tweaks and notes, glad for the distraction, glad that his producer had as chaotic of a sleep schedule as he did. This was the home stretch; one more all-nighter and it would finally be done.

He texts Heartful that he’s getting to work.

It’s four in the morning when he finally stops for a break, his good eye starting to itch from staring at a screen for so long. With a yawn, he leans forward, out of his chair, groaning as he straightens up to a mostly standing position. Hands braced against the edge of his desk, he lets out a resigned sigh and wills his wings into existence. The weight of them curled up tight against his back, as was customary for them to be when non-corporeal, has him leaning a little further forward. Another yawn and he lets them uncurl, lets them stretch out behind him, knocking over an empty microphone stand as they went. He’d get that later. A grateful groan escapes him, it’s been far too long since he’d even had a half-assed stretch like this, wings helping to stretch all the aching muscles in his back that were simply impossible to stretch otherwise, no matter how much he’d twist. Even so, his studio wasn’t big enough to properly stretch them, and he really didn’t feel like laying on his living room floor right now; he’s kind of concerned he’d just fall asleep there. Instead, he kicks his chair to the side and hits shuffle on one of his Spotify playlists, doing what he can for himself in the limited space, and finally going to forage through his cupboards for something resembling a meal. Maybe drink water, Rae’s damn voice in his head.

At least with his wings around he didn’t need to bother turning on any lights; he’s gotta find joy in the little things.

Today, or well, the past twenty-four hours, was a series of cruel jokes, he decides, all leading to the moment he curls up his wings and sits back down at his desk. The moment he puts his headphones back on, he’s greeted by your voice, and he almost jumps a foot in the air, concerned that you’d called him.

"- who I became, dreading when the music stops, what if I just fade away?” In the split second he’s realised that it was just a song, just your voice, crooning, gentle and sad against a soft beat and the sound of rain, as i’m going through some stuff playing in his ears, it’s too late. Already his aura had gone off, and his computer cuts out, as his monitor cuts to darkness, so suddenly all he can see is his own, exhausted reflection in the monitor, backlit by his own wings... Not exactly flattering. 

Thankfully, it was only his computer that was affected, as he can still hear his refrigerator humming in the other room, so he wedges himself beneath his desk to reset the breaker for the power board that his whole system was connected to, grumbling to himself the whole time. 

If he was being honest, however, he was glad he didn’t have to hear more than a few seconds of your song. For a long time it had been one of his favourites, though at this point he’d rather die than admit that. Yes, it’s a good song, but it’s the last thing he needs to hear right now. If he listened to you voice half the fears he still tried to ignore, well right now it may kill him, and he was so close to being finished with Never Satisfied. So close.

Instead, he gives himself the moment in which his system is rebooting to scroll through Twitter and Instagram on his phone, checking his mentions for good fanart to appreciate, only to stumble across one of your stan accounts tagging both you and him in a clip that he hadn’t seen earlier. He’s not sure what possesses him to click it.

“Don’t follow me baby, swear I’m going to hell,” Corpse’s own words leave your lips as you’re focused on the game, on being imposter, leading Sykkuno into electrical to fix lights, and something about it sounds wrong and he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’d heard other lines of his leave your mouth, clips from the stream he’d been tagged in, and it always manages to surprise him. When you sing his songs, even just a little bit, something in the back of his mind, something that had appreciated you as an artist all this time, it’s grateful, it’s excited, it’s overwhelmed. He wouldn’t deny that part of himself, he couldn’t, it didn’t feel right, but upon hearing this line, that grateful part was overshadowed by a visceral bitterness.

The line had been a moment of self deprecation, the only Angel he knew of who, granted it was by some of his own choices, was almost certainly going to Hell, if you believe in that sort of thing of course. But you? Every single part of you seemed to be the exact antithesis to him; you’re what an Angel should be, and him? Well, the line said it all really. It’s just... it feels like you’re mocking him at every turn now that he knows, or well, strongly suspects. With evidence. Which you’re probably not; if you’re an Angel, you wouldn’t go out of your way to mock another angel, so now he’s all in his head, frustrated at himself for being frustrated at you for just... liking his song? 

He really should message you about earlier, clear things up, get out of his own mind and stop jumping to conclusions. Finding another angel was big, no matter his personal reservations, he should try and take this opportunity, right? Except that you hadn’t reached out to him either.

Damn it; he knows he needs to stop thinking about you and focus on his own shit. He turns off his phone and gently tosses it to the floor, out of sight out of mind. 

Maybe he’ll feel better when he finishes his song, feel more productive, feel... complete for just a few moments. Maybe he’d stop comparing himself to you. Maybe.

[ID: Two tweets, one from @sp00kybihh, and one from @yourtwitter, followed by a retweet and reply conversation between @ashton5sos, @yourtwitter, and @y/nirwin.

@sp00kybihh: why did y/n’s smile every time corpse just knew they were talking to him without them having to say anythign make me feel things?? u no we love day 1 ride-or-die y/nkunno, but corpse & y/n just seem to get each other wtf 🥺🥺

@yourtwitter: australians are asleep post forbidden youngblood cover

(Thumbnail of Y/N sitting in front of the camera, dressed casually, visible from the chest up. There is a black microphone on a stand in front of them that they’re holding. Their mouth is open, as if halfway through singing, their eyes are closed, their background is a simple, white wall. Above Y/N, in black, VCR font, is the word ‘youngblood’. There is a large play button in blue and white in the middle of the thumbnail, to indicate that it is a link to a video.

Link: youngblood - 5 seconds of summer | y/n y/l/n cover i miss my boys. i miss people. thank you 5sos for being cool about me covering this <3</i> twitter: @yourtwitter 🔗youtube.com)

@ashton5sos retweeted the link and commented: Y/N you said it was gonna be low effort, this is killer! All it’s missing is some drums. Reminds me, I’m still sad we never got to record that thing we wrote in New York. | @yourtwitter: ASHTON IT IS 8AM I HAVE HAD NO SLEEP AND WAS NOT EXPECTING SUCH A QUICK RESPONSE I WOULD DIE FOR YOU | @yourtwitter: also lmfao i forgot about that ny thing that was good, from what i remember. do u still have that recording of us?? i may or may not have forgotten everything about that night apart from it being a blast #bringbacknewyork | @ashton5sos: Calum has it but also its 2am and he’s asleep, which you should also do. You know the boys are gonna love this... #bringbacknewyork | @y/nirwin: thank u both i have decided to pass away effective immediately #bringbacknewyork

End ID.]

[starshapedkookie]

“everything i’ve wanted.”

CONTINUATION OF: “i’d rather be dead.” 

pairing: jungkook x female reader 

summary: The aftermath of Jungkook breaking up with his long term girlfriend hasn’t gone how you were expecting. After all, you believed with her out of the picture, everything with Jungkook would be easier and he would finally be yours. Turns out, Jungkook’s guilt for what he did may be the one thing that’s stopping him from fully giving his heart to you.

genre: angst, smut, little fluff, college au

word count: 10.7K

includes: mentions of cheating, swearing, drinking, smoking, unprotected sex (wrap it up gentlemen), dry humping, hair pulling, feelings of being used

note: hi welcome back. if you haven’t already please read the first part (i’ve linked it above😊) this was written on a whim of inspiration to continue one of my favorite things i’ve written. less smutty details in this one but that’s fine lol. please give me some feedback if you want & enjoy the shitshow!

.

It had been exactly one week since the party. One week since you found out Jungkook had broken up with his long-term girlfriend. One week since he had taken you back to his place and made you his—finally. Or so you had thought. One week, seven days, 168 hours, and 10,080 minutes since you had last seen or spoken to him.

You had tried to reach out at least once day, sending him a call or text only to be left unanswered. In the two months you had known Jungkook, you hadn’t gone one day without at least texting each other. The first time exchange numbers was to keep up with a friend in the class you shared, only later down the line to turn more inappropriate. You hated this. You weren’t sure what was wrong with him. You only wanted to help him and be there for comfort, but he obviously needed space.

You had bit your nails down to the quick before you realized and had skipped more meals in the past week than you ever had in your life. You didn’t know why you were being like this—you and Jungkook weren’t dating. The circumstance far from that. After all, he was the one who had just left his girlfriend of nearly two and a half years—he has a right to feel down. 

You had thought after so much time of him longing for you—fucking you—after she was out of the picture that the two of you would ride out on a stallion into the sunset. Maybe you misread the situation. But after so long, you wanted Jungkook—you wanted him to be yours. You waited long enough—it wasn’t fair for him to shut you off like this.

“Earth to Y/N,” a snap takes you from your thoughts. You blink your focus to Min Yoongi and Mina—your roommate and best friend—along with the new black haired friend that’s in one of Mina’s classes. Yoongi was a nice guy—quiet and reserved, but super thoughtful and always telling it like it is.

“Sorry,” you laugh, stabbing at the salad in front of you aimlessly, not planning on finishing it.

Mina eyes you curiously, “Are you okay? You’ve been acting kind of strange,” she says tilting her head slightly. Even Yoongi who hasn’t known you but for a few weeks max, would agree with Mina.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you brush it off, “I’m just really stressed about midterms,” you say. It was partially true. You were stressed about Jungkook, but even more stressed about your next round of exams mainly because you had yet to start studying—because you were busy worrying about Jungkook.

Mina only half believes you. “Okay, just let me know if anything’s wrong?”

You know she means best, but sometimes you wish she wouldn’t go creeping into your personal life. She knew about yours and Jungkook’s situation and was not a fan, obviously. You couldn’t help but fear she knew exactly why you were acting strange—no matter how much you tried to fool her.

“I’m gonna get a coffee,” you announce standing up from the table, “Want anything?” You ask Mina and Yoongi. They both shake their heads before looking back at their laptops.

You walk over to the coffee shop, squeezing through the crowds of people. Peak lunch time was the absolute worst in the dining halls on your campus. Freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors all trying to eat at the same time was a horrifying sight. Especially for someone like you who didn’t want hundreds of pairs of eyes looking at you.

You place your coffee order, plain black with three sugars, before someone catches the corner of your eyes. It’s Jungkook. He hasn’t noticed you and you feel your heart racing just from one glance his way. He’s picking up a Grubhub coffee order and before he can walk away you say—

“Hey,” you offer with a small smile. Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to you and his face is unreadable. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly before speaking.

“Uh hey,” he says monotonously before turning on his heels and walking away from you. You watch his back as he walks away from you and you don’t think your heart has ever felt like this before. The sharp pain in your chest is hard to ignore and you can’t help but wonder; what have you done?

You grab your coffee before walking back over to the table where you and your friends sit. You don’t even get fully in your seat until Yoongi is asking you a question.

“You know Jungkook?” He asks. You nearly freeze and you ignore the way Mina’s eyes flicker up from her computer.

“Uh yeah,” you say, “We have a class together,” you leave it at that.

“Gotcha. We’re frat brothers,” he says and you stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Of fucking course they are. “He’s been kind of MIA this week, acting weird and shit.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Really?” You act like you don’t know what he’s talking about.

“Yeah apparently him and girlfriend broke up, did you know her too?” he asks. You have to fight the urge of your skin wanting to heat up. Mina is looking dead at you right now and you choose to ignore her fire-bolt of a stare.

“Uh, no not really,” you clear your throat awkwardly.

“I just didn’t know if you knew what was going on with him,” he says, “Not that you guys care,” he laughs dismissing the subject.

You look at your watch before gathering your things up. “Well I have class in ten minutes. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you say.

“Wait up, I’ll walk you. My class is on the way,” Mina says gathering her things too. You internally groan. Fuck.

“Alright, see you later,” Yoongi says waving the two of you off.

Once you and Mina are outside away from the commotion, she immediately begins to question you.

“Jungkook and his girlfriend broke up?” She presses, “Did you know this?”

You had failed to relay this information to Mina as you weren’t sure how to approach the conversation. If everything was normal between you and Jungkook it would have been an easy conversation to have—a relieving one at that—but we see how that’s turning out.

“Uh yeah,” you say kicking a rock as you walk.

Mina’s eyes nearly pop out of her head, “What the fuck and you didn’t tell me?!” She scolds you.

“Why do you care so much?” You shoot back at her.

She rolls her eyes, “Um maybe because my best friend had been fucking him behind his girlfriend’s back for two months, that’s why I care,” she half whispers, “Is this what’s been going on with you?”

“I’m fine Mina,” you say.

“Bullshit,” she spits, “Shouldn’t you two be happy about this?”

As much as she hated the circumstance—she knew you and Jungkook just clicked.

“He hasn’t spoken to me in a week,” you say simply approaching the building your class was in. Mina’s eyebrows furrow.

“Wait… seriously?” She seems just as confused as you feel.

You nod, “I don’t know what’s up with him,” you sigh, “I’ll see you later okay?”

She lets you go and once you get to class, you don’t even open your laptop, staring at the back of the chair in front of you the whole time.

______

You thought you were dreaming when you got a text from Jungkook the next evening around 8:30 PM. Your mouth goes dry and your hands clammy as you fumble with your phone.

[Jungkook 8:32 PM] what are you doing

[You 8:34 PM] Nothing much

[You 8:34 PM] What about you?  

You bite your lip nervously as the bubbles show up of him typing.

[Jungkook 8:35 PM] can I come over?

You think your heart skips a beat and you don’t think you can reply fast enough.

[You 8:35 PM] Of course

Mina was out studying in the library therefore you were by yourself. You could use the company and Jungkook is easily the first person you could think of you that you want to be with right now. You tidy up the messiness that’s consumed your room the past week and make sure the living room and kitchen were clean enough for your liking. You’re throwing on a sweatshirt as you hear a couple knocks on your door.

You hurry over, opening the door quickly. Jungkook stands there dressed in all black—black sweatpants, a large black long sleeve shirt covering his frame. His dark hair is messy and his eyes are tired. You probably look the same to him.

“Hi,” you squeak out, stepping aside for him to come in.

“Hey,” he says, seeming much more relaxed than he was at the coffee shop yesterday afternoon. His eyes glance around your apartment, “You here alone?” He must have taken note of the silence within the walls.  

“Uh yeah,” you shut the door, “Mina’s out at the library with our friend Yoongi,” you explain watching his frame carefully.

“Min Yoongi?” He asks, his gaze turning back to you.

You nod, “Yeah… he’s in your frat right?”

“Mhm,” he nods, “I like hyung a lot.”

“Yeah he’s nice,” you say and you swear the tension rises after each passing second of him being here. It’s suffocating.

You lead Jungkook back into your room and shut the door as he lays down on your bed with a deep exhale. He covers his eyes with his arms and you sit down on the edge of the bed, eyeing him carefully. He seems distressed and you aren’t sure what to say to him.

“H-how are you?” You ask him hesitantly. He removes his arms from his face, looking at you and then over to your desk scattered with school work.

“Not good,” he says, again monotonously, but truthful.

“I figured,” you are careful with your word choice and you keep your tone low, barely audible. He laughs and you can’t tell if it’s sarcasm.

“Why do you say that?” His eyes finally meet yours and stay locked. His tone isn’t serious, but it isn’t exactly playful either.

You bite your lip, breathing heavily, “I mean… you haven’t spoken to me in over a week so I just thought…” you trail off, not sure how to finish what you’re saying.

His eyes don’t leave yours and his gaze is too heavy for you. You look away as he speaks again.

“Y/N,” he says, getting your attention again, “I’m sorry… I’m just going through a lot right now…”

You turn back to him, shifting your body to face him more. His hand is right by your leg and your tempted to grab it—and you normally would have—but you don’t this time.

“You can tell me anything Jungkook, you know that,” you tell him honestly. He knows this and you shouldn’t have to tell him.

He stays silent. He looks as if he’s trying to find the right words to say, but he doesn’t know how to formulate them. He looks down at your body before putting his hand on one of your legs that’s bent towards him.

“I just thought this would be easier,” he says, his thumb rubbing small motions on your bare skin, “It’s been hell.” You think he’s nearly on the brink of tears but he pushes them away quickly.

“Jungkook,” you say putting your hand on his, “It’s the process…” you pause, “I know what you’re going through—“

“No you don’t,” he snaps, pulling his hand away from you. His eyes are narrowed and burning holes in your skin, “Don’t fucking say that Y/N.”

Your lips part in shock. He’s never raised his voice at you, this being the closest thing to that. You ease your gaze on him, not wanting him to be angry at you. Everyone has gone through a break up—and the healing process is the fucking worst, but it’s something everyone goes through—he can’t say you don’t know what it feels like when you do. You don’t defend yourself though, wanting to deescalate his mood.

“Jungkook just let me help you,” you say in almost a whisper, feeling your emotions beginning to creep up the more you look at him. He’s so goddamn beautiful and perfect in your eyes, you couldn’t stand seeing him like this.

His eyes are stormy and he looks as if he’s debating something. He sits up more on his elbows, reaching one of his hands out. You take it slowly and soon he’s pulling you on top of him. Your heart drops into your stomach at his touch—fuck you’ve missed it.

You sit perched on his abdomen, his hands firmly around your waist as the two of you stare at each other, waiting for someone to make a move.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly and you shake your head instantly.

“Don’t say that,” you tell him and he licks his lips quickly and a little too tempting for you.

“Come here,” his voice is deep and you swallow harshly before leaning down to close the gap between the two of you. When your lips meet after an entire week, your whole body sets ablaze. His lips are always so damn soft, sometimes chapped, but not today. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you two move with each other, his own hands slipping underneath your sweatshirt to grip your waist better. You already feel hot and want the material off of you but you want to make sure this is what Jungkook wants before you do anything furthur.

“Jungkook,” you pull away from him momentarily, “Are you sure?” You don’t know why you’re asking because you already know his answer.

He nods quickly, moving the sweatshirt material up from your frame. “Yeah, I’ve missed you so much,” he says and you help him pull it over your head leaving you in your sports bra. He leans up again to close the large gap between you two. You tangle your hands into his hair when his tongue dips into your mouth, once and then twice, sending your core a shockwave. His lips move from your mouth, to the corner of your mouth, to your jawline, and down your neck slowly and tortuously. With the grip in his hair, you pull him impossible closer to you and you shift your weight from his tummy down to his crotch, settling where he needs you the most.

You move your hips experimentally against his sweatpants and he sends a small groan into your ear. You do it again and you groan at the feeling. He pushes your bra up and over your head and quickly attaches his mouth on your left nipple. You continue to grind against his growing member, your clit being stimulated slightly.

Jungkook detaches his lip from your nipple and he quickly rids himself of his shirt before kissing you again. His hands rest against your ass and he pushes you to grind on him again. He moves his hips to meet up with yours and you let out a moan against his lips when part of his shaft hits just where you need it.

You feel an orgasm already approaching as you rock yourself onto his clothed length and you want him inside of you as soon as possible. You need it.

“Fuck, Jungkook I think I’m gonna come,” you breathe out, your forehead resting against his. He rocks up into your clothed core a little harder this time and it’s becoming too hard to stay quiet.

“Come on punkin,” he says against you, “Come for me baby.”

With his words, you find yourself over the edge and your jaw drops as your orgasm quickly washes over you. No—it’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had but it feels damn good after so long. He covers your mouth with his as you moan into him, your body stifling above him.

“I need to fuck you,” he groans and his brown eyes look almost black as he stares into you. You nod quickly and you get off of his lap, quickly pulling down your pajama shorts and underwear, him doing the same with his sweats and own underwear.

“I don’t have any condoms,” you tell him and he nearly knocks the breath out of you when he flips you over on your stomach.

“It’s fine punkin,” he says and he’s already lining himself up with your entrance. The small friction sending a chill down your spine and you nearly collapse onto your elbows. He slowly enters you, both of you sending harsh groans to each other. Your hands grip the bedding, Jungkook’s left hand gripping your hip just as tight as his other guides his length fully into you.

Once he bottoms out,  he has to breathe heavily to stable himself. You look at him over your shoulder and he’s looking right back, his chest heaving up and down. He starts to move in and out of you slowly and your head falls into your pillows.

“Fuck—shit,” he groans throwing his head back, watching the way he enters and leaves you through slitted eyes. His pace is agonizingly slow and you yourself start to move back onto him, fucking him from the front. You moan deeply as you feel all of his length fill you up. Jungkook watches as you fuck yourself onto him as he listens to your small ministrations. From this angle, his tip hits the right spot deep within you and you’re picking up your pace before Jungkook halts your hips against his.

“Jungkook,” you whine, needing to feel him fast and hard.

“What’s wrong punkin?” He teases and you groan as he slowly pulls out of you and back in again.

“Fuck,” you can’t hold yourself up anymore and you go down on your elbows, trying to focus on your next orgasm that’s slowly building up.

“Want me to fuck you harder?” He says deeply and he leans forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling your face up from the mattress.

“Yes, Jungkook—goddammit,” you’re almost frustrated the way he plays you like this. It’s all he needs to hear before he picks up his pace, thrusting himself in and out of you quickly but not too fast for either of you. He pulls on your hair each time he sinks into you, his other hand kneading your ass between fingers. His own small whines have picked up as he fucks himself faster into you and you feel your toes curling at the familiar sensation of your climax coming. To your surprise, Jungkook’s hand smacks down onto your ass quick and hard, once then twice, which causes an animalistic groan to come from his mouth.

You reach up in between yourself and rub your sensitive bud to send you over the edge and once it comes, your whole body feels like it’s shattering from the sensation.

“Jungkook…ah, fuck,” you whine loudly and he lets go of your hair, both of his hands holding you firmly against him as he chases his own high.

“Almost there baby, jesus—fuck,” he stills deep within you as he cums. Your name and a string of curse words flowing out of his mouth quietly. You collapse against your bed as he pulls out of you. You’re spent and you nearly don’t have enough energy to turnover. When you do, you almost ask Jungkook to spend the night until you see him gathering his things, pulling on his underwear.

“A-are you leaving?” You ask him, covering yourself with a small blanket on the end of your bed. Jungkook’s eyes glance at you before finding his shirt.

“Yeah… I gotta chapter meeting… for the new pledges,” he says, not really paying much mind to his words.

Your mouth parts, “Oh.”  

You expected him to stay—you wanted him to stay. It was always either one of you leaving after you fucked—but you thought that would be over once he broke up with her.

“I’ll text you okay? I promise,” he’s slipped into his shoes and he leans down to your face, kissing your lips gently but not long enough for your liking.

“O-okay,” the disappointment is evident in your tone and Jungkook notices, but he pretends he didn’t hear it as he leaves your room, closing the door behind him.

You stare at the door, unable to process what just happened. You feel yourself start to get emotional, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. You cover yourself with your blanket more, feeling lonely, used, and vulnerable. As the first tear falls from your eyes, you don’t stop the others that follow. For the first time in a long time, you’re spending a Saturday night by yourself, crying your eyes out, unable to get those brown eyes out of your head.

_____

Jungkook never texts you. Not Sunday, not Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday. It’s starting to look like another week is going to go by without hearing from him. You were worried to say the least. Jungkook had never ghosted you and this was now becoming so out of the ordinary, it was something you couldn’t brush off anymore.  

Thankfully on this Thursday afternoon, Yoongi offered to grab some food with you as you study together. You were quiet once again and Yoongi couldn’t help but ask what was going on.

“Y/N,” he says and you look up from your notes to meet his gaze.

“Hm?” You mumble under your breath.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” he pauses, “I haven’t known you that long but you’re kind of worrying me…”

Your shoulders and face visibly drop. “I swear I’m fine, I just—“

“You don’t have to lie to me you know,” he interrupts you, his eyes burning holes into yours.

You glance away from him, slumping back into the chair you are currently sat in.

“Can I assume this is about a guy?”  Min Yoongi was a quizzical person—a very smart person at that. Deep down, you wonder if Mina had mentioned anything to Yoongi about yours and Jungkook’s situation, but you know she would never do that.

“Sure,” you answer bluntly, not bothering to hide the displeasure in your tone.

His mouth goes straight before almost curling into a smile, “Wanna talk about it?”  

“Not really,” you mutter. You couldn’t talk about it.

“C’mon,” he starts, “We’ve both taken basic psychology classes and we both know ignoring your problems doesn’t make them go away.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “Are you volunteering to be my shrink?”

He laughs before speaking again, “I charge five dollars an hour, that covers my Starbucks order.”  

For the first time in awhile, you send him a genuine smile. You stare back down at your notes, knowing you aren’t retaining any of the information so possibly a study break would help. Perhaps you would open up to Yoongi some—but leaving out some minor details.  

You breathe out heavily before shutting your notebook, leaning onto your elbows. Yoongi watches you carefully, doing the same as he shuts his laptop to give you his full attention.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” you warn. Yoongi looks at his wrist that doesn’t have a watch sitting on his skin before saying—

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he smirks and you roll your eyes. “Time is a social construct so I’m all ears.”

“So there’s this guy,” you pause, thinking about your word choice carefully, “We met a few months ago in class and I would see him around at parties. And uh… we both hit it off together well, but then a bombshell dropped that he had a girlfriend, one for awhile at that.”  

Yoongi nods his head, signaling you to continue.

“Um, well skip through a couple weeks and,” you pause, getting ready for the embarrassment that’s about to flow through your body, “We hooked up… like hooked up, hooked up.”

Yoongi’s face falls some, tilting his head to the side, “So…do you feel guilty? Is that why you’re acting weird?” His voice is calm and not demeaning like you were expecting.

You shake your head slowly, “Well… the thing is we kept hooking up, for a couple months,” your voice is uneven and shaky. You hated to admit being the ‘other woman’ but in your moments with Jungkook you couldn’t have cared less.

“Hm,” Yoongi says, “Okay… can I ask why? I mean you knew he had a girlfriend…?”

You bite your lip nervously, “Well every time we were together, he told me that he wanted to be with me and he didn’t know how to end things with his girlfriend.”  

“He sounds like a pussy,” he scoffs with a laugh and you have to fight the temptation for your cheeks to fill with heat. “Are you still hooking up with him? Does he still have this girlfriend?”

You shake your head, “No, he broke up with her recently and… I thought that everything would fall into place now that she’s out of the picture,” you pause, “But he hasn’t really spoken to me since they broke up. I’ve only seen him a couple times since he called it quits.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow, seeming to be somewhat confused. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words immediately come from it.  

“I wish I could tell you why this guy is doing this, but honestly I can’t,” he responds, “Do you know if he told his ex about you?”

“I’m not sure… I’d hope not,” you rush the last part.

“Wouldn’t you want to you know? I mean if your partner cheated on you?” He asks. Cheating. Probably your least favorite word in the dictionary.

You shrugged thinking carefully about your answer, “I’m not sure… maybe if I suspected something?”

Yoongi’s eyes soften, “Maybe his ex suspected something? And now that she might know why he broke up with her, he feels guilty about it now.”

A confused look spreads across your face. You’re not really following. Jungkook didn’t seem to feel guilty anytime his dick was inside of you, why would he feel guilty now?

“I mean maybe he’s pushing you away because he’s trying to cover his ass. Like I said, if she suspected something, seeing her ex with a girl right after they broke up would probably confirm any suspicions she had,” he rationalizes and once you hear those words, it makes sense as much as you don’t want to admit it.

“I guess that makes sense,” you mumble, staring down at your horribly picked cuticles. “I just wish he would say something to me and not leave me hanging like this.”

Yoongi debates saying his next sentence—but he’s not one for a filter.

“You probably don’t wanna hear this but I don’t think you should be this upset over this guy. He cheated on his girlfriend and then strung you along and has left you like this… sounds like a guy you shouldn’t want to be with anyways, single or not,”  he says truthfully.

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Maybe you had been so infatuated with Jungkook and his huge dick—you couldn’t see that maybe he isn’t what you need right now. Maybe Yoongi’s right?

“Maybe you’re right,”  you mutter, slumping down fully in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Have you told Mina any of this?” He asks.  

“Yeah, she found out pretty quickly what was going on.”

“What does she think?”

You frown slightly, “She hated the fact that I was demoted to homewrecker but she said if we made each other happy…” you trail off looking at your now cold coffee.

Yoongi chuckles, “Well, don’t settle for the class of a homewrecker, you’re better than that.”

You give him a small smile again, “Thanks.”

“What are you two doing this weekend?” He asks with curiosity.

“I don’t know yet, not sure about her either,” you answer.

“Well, we’re having a party to welcome in the new pledges. You two should come,” he smiles ever so slightly.

You think about protesting when you remember that Yoongi and Jungkook reside in the same frat but that soon passes your mind when you realize you’re in desperate need for some fun. You’re sick of sulking in your room watching The Office for the umpteenth time.

“Sure,” you say, “I’ll let her know.”

He nods and you almost don’t hear him when he says, “You better.”

A smirk creeps up on your face, “Is Min Yoongi sweet for Mina?” You tilt your head jokingly.

“Yeah, yeah fuck off,” he flips you off from across the table before pushing his chair out, “I gotta get another coffee if I’m sitting here with you for another hour.”

You laugh, “Get me one!”

_____

Never in your time at university had you put so much effort into your appearance to go to a fraternity house. Alas, here you were trying on your 10th outfit of the night and double touching up your makeup.

“Y/N! Come on! Our Uber’s here!” Mina yells from your living room and you groan loudly. You look at your black jeans and black blouse that shows some of your cleavage before running out to the living room, holding your booties in your hands.

“I’m coming!” You respond, grabbing a water bottle of vodka in your other hand. You follow Mina out to the Uber and she sits up front while you hop in the back. You quickly slip on your shoes so you’re not barefoot anymore as the driver begins to speed off to the familiar fraternity house.

Knowing you should have started drinking an hour ago, you twist the lid off of the vodka bottle and tip it back into your mouth, making sure the driver can’t see you in the dark. After a big gulp, you pull away and a shiver sends down you spine. Fuck, you hated vodka—why were you doing this to yourself? Then you remembered—Jungkook. You had to get him out of your head to enjoy this night and the only way to do that was to get absolutely plastered. You take another swig and Mina eyes you from the front seat with a judgmental look before laughing to herself.

You had not told Mina about the conversation you had with Yoongi. You weren’t planning on it either. Should would probably kill you if she knew you told him your deepest darkest secret. Granted you were smart enough to leave Jungkook’s name out of the picture but she wouldn’t have cared.

Another ten minutes go by before the driver pulls up to the curb in front of the house. You and Mina thank him before walking up to the scene. It’s about 10:30 PM and there’s already a plethora people here, the music loud, and the smell of different types of smoke coming from all directions.

“Mina! Y/N!” You are greeted at the door by non other than Park Jimin. The hunky guy you nearly hooked up with a couple weeks back before Jungkook obviously changed the plan and fucked you in one of the bathrooms at this very house.

“Hey! What’s up?” You give Jimin a side hug, holding your vodka bottle close to your chest. He also gives Mina a small embrace before pulling away.

“I’m on door duty tonight so no alcohol for me,” he says with a pout, “But don’t let me stop you!” He smiles and steps aside from the door to let the two of you walk in.

The hallway is crowded and a Drake song plays loudly over the conversing. You hold onto Mina’s hand tight, dragging you through the corridors to go to the dance floor. Before you get there though, you run smack dab into the chest of Min Yoongi.

“Oh. Shit, hey guys!” He smiles brightly and you’re sure he’s buzzed.

“Hey,” Mina hugs him quickly.

“You guys wanna drink?” He leans down between you to half yell his question. Both of you nod and he gestures to follow him. He leads you into the kitchen/bar you are quite familiar with before digging into a cooler to fetch some drinks.

You take another shot from your bottle and then hand it to Mina—her needing to catch up with you.

“Here you go,” he hands over a classic hard seltzer and you gladly take it.

“There’s a lot of people here tonight,” you say louder than usual.

He nods, “Yeah all these pledges invited pretty much anyone they looked at this past week,” he laughs. You offer him the vodka bottle but he shakes his head quickly, “I gotta DD at 2 AM, I can’t get shitfaced as much as I’d want to.”

“Gotcha,” you turn to Mina and she takes another shot. After she’s finished, her pointer fingers goes to you and she signals for you to come closer. You lean into her, her mouth near your ear.

“Have you talked to Jungkook?” She asks trying to keep her voice down so Yoongi won’t hear.

You shake your head, “No, why?”

“No reason,” she shakes her head and you furrow her eyebrows at you.

“What are y’all whispering about and why am I not a part of this conversation?” Yoongi butts in and both of you push against his chest.

“It’s nothing Yoongi,” she sends him a sweet smile and you’re sure his eyes melted at the sight, “Come on, we’re gonna go dance,” Mina says grabbing your wrist.

“We are?” You ask.

“Yup, c’mon,” she pulls you away from Yoongi before you can object and you finally feel the effects of the alcohol fogging your brain.

An EDM songs rips through the walls and before you know it, both of you have let loose and released all your stress in the world. All you know is that you needed this. After the two weeks you’ve had—this was only the beginning of your night and it wasn’t ending anytime soon. You and Mina continue to pass the bottle back and forth, sipping on the harsh liquor until half of it is gone. Mina’s hands are on your shoulders as both of you scream the lyrics of the current song into each other’s faces. Although your head spins and each time you jump up and down you stumble, it’s the happiest you’ve felt in a long time.

Between everyone’s yelling of the lyrics and yours, time suddenly feels like it stops when you meet a familiar set of brown eyes across the room. 

The sight of Jungkook makes you head to a full spin but when you realize who is standing beside him—you feel like you could hurl—his ex-girlfriend. What is she doing here?!

You steady yourself onto Mina, breaking Jungkook’s gaze on you before turning to her.

“I’m gonna g-get another drink,” you stumble your sentence and she nods quickly before she leans to you.

“I’m gonna go talk with Hanna, I haven’t seen her in awhile!” She tells you and you give her a thumbs up before walking away from her and Jungkook’s line of sight.

You get back to the kitchen and find that Yoongi hasn’t moved—he’s now talking to a handsome guy who you’ve only ever seen around the frat.

“Y/N!” Yoongi greets you again, “Have you met Taehyung?” He asks.

You shake your head, steadying yourself against the island in the kitchen, “No, hi… I’m Y/N,” you introduce yourself as sober as yourself will allow it.

Taehyung has a boxy smile—it’s cute. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

“I need a drink,” you announce, stepping between the two frat brothers, heading straight to a cooler. Yoongi notices the way you stumble and almost fall onto your face before he’s grabbing your hand.

“Wait, Y/N come on, let’s slow down,” he offers seriously. You jerk your hand away from his.

“No I think I want a drink,” you tell him pointedly before digging around and pulling up another carbonated beverage. You crack the can open and smile to Yoongi, “Cheers.”

You down half the can in one gulp and Yoongi again grabs at your arm to pull the drink away from you. 

“Fuck off Yoongi,” you step away from him and look back at Taehyung, whose eyeing you up and down. Maybe you’ll have this one tonight. Yoongi notices the way you’re practically drooling over Taehyung and he rolls his eyes.

Yoongi says something in Taehyung’s ear before he nods to the older brother, giving you one last glance, and walking away from the two of you. Your mouth falls open.

“Are you fucking kidding me Yoongi? I wanted to talk to him,” you pout and cross your arms.

“I think you wanted to do a little more than talk,” he narrows his gaze, “Come on, finish that drink and be done—“

His sentence breaks when he notices your gaze shift behind of his back, your face falling at whatever you’re staring at. He looks over his shoulder and sees Jungkook walk into the kitchen, seemingly looking for something to drink. Yoongi looks back at you and the way your gaze softens, your lip nearly trembling at the sight—Yoongi begins to piece what he was suspecting together.

He steps close to you, leaving little to no room to breath, “Is it Jungkook?” He asks you. Yoongi hadn’t said anything when you spilled what was on your mind to him—but he had an inkling that your said “guy troubles” were over someone he knew very well.

“What?” Your gaze breaks from Jungkook, your heart settling when you see he’s alone and not with her. He hasn’t spotted you himself yet.

“The guy you told me about… it’s Jungkook isn’t it?” He asks again. Your head is spinning but once you realize what Yoongi is referring to, you swear it sobers you up some.

“How do you know that?” Your face drops, “What did Mina tell you—“

“She didn’t tell me anything,” he cuts you off. “Am I right?”

You look back over at Jungkook who is talking with some other brothers before you begin to nod slowly.

“Yeah, it is,” you say slowly, trying to control your breathing and your emotions all at once. Jungkook was all you wanted and seeing him standing there looking breathtaking as ever—your heart ached for him. “Why is he here with his ex?” You ask him.

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows, “Is he?” He looks behind him once more, but doesn’t see her so he wonder’s if you’re that drunk you’re seeing things.

“I saw them together, like five minutes ago,” you say. “Do you know if they’re here together?” Your voice is desperate and rushed.

He shakes his head slowly, “No I don’t know…”

Your jaw clenches the longer you look at Jungkook and you feel your blood boiling but your heart skipping beats simultaneously.

“I should talk to him,” you announce.

Yoongi’s eyes widen, “Y/N come on,” he laughs, “Are you sure you want to do that?”

You nod your head, “Yeah… yeah I do,” you give him a flat smile and before Yoongi can stop you, you are marching your way over where Jungkook stands with his mates.

As if you’re a magnet, Jungkook’s eyes immediately fall onto your approaching frame and he shifts uncomfortably when he sees the small perk of your boobs from your shirt. You approach the group with a small smile.

“Hey guys,” you say, “Jungkook.”

“Y/N hey,” he says with an uneasy tone, “Guys do you know Y/N?” He asks his friends and you nearly roll your eyes. You needed to speak to him—alone—not with these goons around.

“Jungkook do you have a lighter?” You ask him as nonchalant as you could in your intoxicated state.

“Uh,” he feels around his back pockets, “Yeah, here,” he hands it over to you but you only stare at his hand without taking it.

“Come outside with me?” You give him a weak smile and ignore the pointed stares from the other guys standing around you. Jungkook hesitantly pulls back the lighter before nodding.

“Alright,” he says, “I’ll talk to you guys later,” he dimisses himself and he grabs your hand to pull you outside. Though he doesn’t intertwine your fingers, his touch alone is enough to send flames through your veins.

He leads you onto the all too familiar back balcony where hardly anyone else is outside. Perhaps the chilly, autumn weather being that culprit for that or the party is just too good no one wants to venture elsewhere. Either way, you were glad no one else was around you and Jungkook right now.

You lean against the balcony, pulling out a cigarette from your bra—a clichéd classic. You put the cigarette between your lips before Jungkook pulls it out of your mouth.

“Hey! What the hell—“

“Don’t do that nasty shit,” he scolds before pulling out some of Juul-like device from his front pocket, “Here,” he hands it to you and you gladly take it from him. You inhale the strawberry—you weren’t quite sure due to your drunken state—vapor once, twice, and then a third time before you hand it back to your onlooker.

“Thanks,” you say shooting him a lazy smile. You full take in his appearance as he’s dressed in light denim jeans and a sweatshirt that’s a least a size too big for his frame.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” his voice is low and timid. You sway side to side slightly as you get lost in druken thought.

“Yoongi invited me,” you answer him bluntly. He’s not standing too close to you as he’s got about a foot in between you.

“Oh,” he mutters, his eyes looking away from yours briefly.

“You haven’t texted me you know,” the liquid courage was strong with that one. Jungkook’s face contorts as he obviously wasn’t expecting your statement. He tries to say something but you cut him off. “Have I done something?”

Jungkook notices the way your eyes are glassy and the way your lip quivers when you ask the question. It makes a sharp pain shoot up his chest into his throat. He’s cornered and he has no idea what to say.

“No,” he finally says something after a too long silence, “You haven’t done anything.”

“Why are you here with her?” The question that’s been hanging on your drunken tongue finally comes out.

“We’re not here together,” he says almost defensively.

You narrow your eyes at him, “Then what are you doing Jungkook? You can talk to your ex but not me?”

Jungkook knows you are drunker than you need to be and that this isn’t a conversation that should be held right here, right now. After all, he didn’t know if anyone could be listening in on the conversation.

“Y/N I should you take home, you’re really drunk right—“

“Why so you can fuck me and then leave again?” You spit your words at him. You wanted him to know how awful he made you feel last week. 

“No Y/N—“

“Because I’m sick and tired of that Jungkook,” you pause and there are now tears threatening to spill out of your eyes, “I just thought that n-now it would b-be different,” anger laces through your words and Jungkook can’t ignore it this time. “You’re fucking cum was still inside of me when you left,” you seethe your words and Jungkook flinches some. 

“Please Y/N can I take you home? We shouldn’t do this right here,” he says as a stray tear falls down your cheek. “Fuck no, please don’t cry, it’s okay,” he steps closer to you and pulls you into a hug.

“J-Jungkook,” you mutter into his chest and try to hold in the rest of your tears. As drunk as you were, you knew he was right and that you two shouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Your arms are tight around his torso, “Will you take me home?”

He nods, “Of course.”

Everything going on in Jungkook’s head was raging full speed right now. He’s thinking about you, his now ex-girlfriend, the cheating—it’s all too overwhelming. But with you in his arms threatening to spill tears everywhere, his heart is pulled in your direction and he just wants to get you home safe. Jungkook manages to call an Uber with you hanging off of his arm and he escorts you out front to ignore from going back inside. He knew you would be embarassed being seen like this and thankfully he cared about you and he wasn’t going to let that happen. Your Uber arrives and as soon as you get in the backseat, you rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder, your eyes closing into a snooze.

_____

You’re stumbling up the stairs to your apartment with Jungkook holding you up with ease. Despite his slim frame, he was all muscle and you were pretty easy to keep up. Your short lived nap in the Uber went by all too quick before Jungkook was pulling you from the car. You felt slightly sick, but you tried your best to hold down whatever was rumbling in your tummy as he opened the door to your apartment.

You nearly tumble over when you begin to walk towards the kitchen, but once again, Jungkook is there to catch you.

“Hey hey,” he pulls you up from your waist, “Be careful okay?” His eyes meet yours and you feel like you could melt into his arms. He rests you against your kitchen counter and as he tries to walk away you pull against him to keep him close to you.

“Kookie,” the nickname drips from your mouth with a pout as you place your hands on his upper chest and shoulders, “I’m really drunk…” you rest your head against his chest.

“You don’t say punkin?” He laughs resting his head on your head but you soon pull away quickly.

“You don’t get to call me that,” you press, pushing him away from you some, “Not after the w-way you’ve t-treated me.”

His face softens at your words and he looks down at the space between you two. He grabs your hands gently before saying, “You need some water… and maybe some food.”

You want to protest but your dry mouth says otherwise, so you nod in response. You lean against the counter to steady yourself as Jungkook steps away to get a glass of water for you. He also takes a look in your cabinets to see if you have any quick food to fix. He finds one cup of instant ramen left in your cabinet and he decides to fix that for you quickly. You watch his every move and despite how drunk you are, you hated being like this, this was not fun. You felt like a child as he took care of you and frankly, you probably didn’t deserve it, but you were inwardly grateful nonetheless.

Jungkook mixes in the flavor packet quickly before stepping back over to you. You smile at the cup in his hand and you’re about to snatch it from him before he pulls it back.

“It’s hot,” he says giving you a watchful eye.

“So am I, we’re a perfect match,” you say seriously and he only rolls his eyes in response. He sets down the cup before turning back to you, placing his hands firmly on your waist. You’re about to ask what he’s doing until he’s hoisting you up to sit on the counter, him standing between your legs. He grabs the ramen once again before he picks up a small amount of the noodles, holding it up towards your mouth. You stare at the curly noodles for a few moments before Jungkook speaks.

“If you’re just gonna stare at them, I’ll eat them,” he says and you shake your head quickly, taking the noodles in your mouth in one gulp. The taste is just what you needed to coat your vodka intruded tongue and stomach. You half moan at the the food when you swallow it and Jungkook watches every move you make. He takes his own bite of the noodles and you nearly scold him but remember he fixed them, so he should have some.

“Thank you,” you tell him in a low voice as you continue to share the noodles. You soon feel the drunkenness slowly move out of your body, more coherent thoughts invading your headspace.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he responds after he finishes chewing. The longing look on your face is obvious and Jungkook curses to himself when he notices it. He looks down at the almost empty cup, “You want the last bite?”

You don’t even have to debate it in your head before you nod quickly with a smile. Jungkook returns a soft smile before feeding you the last of the noodles. Your stomach feels a lot more settled now and you feel like you could have a deep conversation with Jungkook right now, but honestly—you just wanted to go to bed and you wanted him to stay with you.

“I wanna go to bed,”  you mumble playing with the strings of his hoodie aimlessly

“Come on,” he says grabbing ahold of one of your hands to pull you from the counter. Before you two can go anywhere though, you speak again.

“Stay with me tonight,” you plead into his dark eyes. His face is blank and unreadable, but he squeezes your hand tightly.

“Okay.”

Your admiration for Jungkook only heightens when he undresses you carefully and slips over a large t-shirt over your frame and ties your hair up for you since you claimed your arms were too tired to do so. He even brushed your teeth for you and you were sure in this moment, he was angel from heaven on earth. You practically throw yourself on your bed with him following in the sheets after you. In all the time you two had known each other and hooked up—never once had you stayed at each other’s places. With the then ominous threat of his girlfriend, it was impossible, but right now—this was all you needed. You cuddle up to Jungkook’s bare chest, one of his arms snaking around you.

“Goodnight Kook,” you mutter closing your eyes as you listen to the slowed heartbeat in his chest.

“Goodnight punkin,” he breathes out heavily, staring down at your limp frame. He laughs to himself—you hadn’t even heard him as you had passed out that quickly. He watches you for a few more moments, focusing on your breathing as a way for him to relax. He almost couldn’t believe he was actually here right now, spending the night with you—after all this time. But at the end of the day, he couldn’t help but still feel saddened and bothered by his thoughts—he felt like a horrible person and he wasn’t sure he was ever going to get over it.

_____

You woke up early with a groan, a slight hangover pulsing through your head. Jungkook soon followed you in waking up and you nearly forgot that he stayed the night with you. His close proximity from behind of you was unfamiliar but comforting. You had leaned back into his chest as his arms pulled you closer to inhale your scent. It was as if the two of you were making up for lost time of being able to stay with each other because not even 10 minutes after waking up, you found yourself sinking onto his thick and pulsing cock.  

“Mm, fuck,” Jungkook moans as he watches himself disappear inside of you. Your fingernails claw into his shoulders and his hands grip your waist tightly through the t-shirt you were wearing. You couldn’t wait long enough to take the material off but Jungkook liked it as if gave him some leverage.

“Jungkook, oh my god,” you bottom out and it doesn’t take you long to start moving up and down his length. Jungkook’s head falls back against your headboard as he helps you move along him at a steady pace.

He felt so good—better than you even remember. Your insides are sensitive and you feel him everywhere, taking up space you didn’t even know existed. Your moans are loud and your chest is heating up, as is his. Jungkook’s hands crawl beneath the cotton material and grip your hips where they bend against him to shove himself as deep as he possibly could. You slow yourself against him as you lean foreword to rest your forehead against his own. Both of your lips connect at the same time, gentle yet harsh as you cover each other’s whines.

One of Jungkook’s hand trails down to your front to find your clit which he does with ease—he could do it in his sleep as he knew your body like the back of your hand. You break the kiss with a loud groan as he begins to rub you, your toes curling at the sensation.

“Fuck Kookie,” you lean back against his thighs as you begin to pick up your pace, desperate to reach your high.

“Feel good punkin?” He manages to get out as he relentlessly chases his hips with yours, his thumb moving against you the way you like it.

“Y-yes, yes,” you breathe out and you’re almost there, “God, I’m gonna co-come.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop and soon your climax hits you like a wall and it’s a good one to say the least. You clench around his length in pulses which nearly sends himself over the edge and he watches the way your eyes close tightly to relish in the feeling. Without a warning, Jungkook manages to flip you two over, him beginning quick thrusts in and out of you. Your are over sensitive but it feels so good as you wrap your legs around his back to shove him deeper. His head is craned in your neck, his lips and teeth nipping the soft skin, as another hand is placed around your jaw to hold your head down.

“God you’re always so tight,” he says in disbelief, “I fucking love your pussy,” he groans into your ear and with his words you can already feel another orgasm coming soon. “It’s all mine, yeah?” He lifts his head to look into your eyes and you nod quickly.

“Yours,” you choke out as he gives you a particularly hard thrust.

“Fuck I’m gonna come,” he says, “You gonna come with me again punkin?”

You nod quickly, “Yes, please Jungkook.”

With three more thrusts in you and you grinding yourself against his pelvic area, you both reach a climax together. He’s loud and it’s like music to your ears when he stalls inside of you to feel you clamping around him again.

He’s breathing heavy and he looks at you again before kissing you deeply again. You return the kiss instantly, your hands tangling themselves into his hair. You don’t know how much longer the two of you kiss before he’s pulling out and away from you. He flops down beside of you and you don’t ask to cuddle up to him as you turn on your side and throw an arm around him.

Silence engulfs the room—an unspoken tension between the two of you. You stare out you window while Jungkook stares at your ceiling, breaths heavy from both of you. You could fall back to sleep but you would rather not, so you look at him after a few moments. His eyes follow yours but he still doesn’t say anything.

“You okay?” You finally ask him breaking the ice.

“I don’t know,” he’s being honest. He looks at you and sees a future, but he’s not sure he he can get passed his previous mistakes.

You frown at him, “Please just tell me what’s bothering you.”

He closes his eyes briefly before pushing himself up on your bed. You pull your blanket over him as he sits up against the headboard. Your eyes stay focussed on his face as you adjust your body to look towards him. He fumbles with your hands in his lap and he seems like something is agonizing him. You can’t help but get frustrated towards him. He’s never been like this in the few months you’ve known each other. He seems more distressed now than he ever did when he was sneaking behind his girlfriend’s back.

“Why were you with her last night?” The question tumbles from your mouth before you can think about it. As drunk as you were, you vividly remembered seeing the two of them together and the thought made you sick.

“We didn’t come together if that’s what you wanna know,” he speaks timidly.

“That’s not what I asked you,” you say matter of factly. He sighs in deep frustration before tilting his head slightly.

“I—“ he stops for a second, “I just saw her there and I thought I should say something to her,” his excuse is lame but he didn’t even know the exact reason why he went up to his ex.

“Jungkook come on,” you shake your head at him. He narrows his eyes at you and he sighs again. ‘

“Y/N I really don’t need you questioning me about her like this, it’s none of your business,” he drops your hands from his with some force before leaning his head back against the bed frame.

Your mouth slightly drops open, “Are you fucking kidding me Jungkook? Last time I checked this is part of my business. You’ve been fucking me for months behind her back and you just recently broke up with her so I think this is my damn business,” your words are harsh and angry. Perhaps Jungkook’s biggest flaw was his inability to be a little selfless at times and it was instances like this that prove that to you.

“Well what the hell do you want me to say Y/N?” his tone raises slightly.

“I just want you to be honest with me Jungkook!” You raise yours right back, “What the fuck is going on with you? And the what the fuck is going on with us? I’m sick of being treated like an object by you,” you have to steady your breath as you feel your emotions taking over you.  

Jungkook shakes his head at you, “You know you’re not just an object to me, don’t fucking say that,” he spits just as angrily as you, “I don’t even know what’s going on with myself Y/N so how am I supposed to tell you?”

You don’t immediately respond because you’re not sure what to say. You keep pressing him about his feelings but if he’s confused do you really have a right to question him just yet?

“Y/N listen to me,” he grabs your hand reluctantly again, “I care about you so much, but I also still care about her—and I always will. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for what I did to her, she didn’t deserve what I did…”

You feel like you’re going to get sick as the tears come to your eyes. He notices and wipes them away just as quick as they came.

“I wish I would have never dragged you into my shit, there isn’t enough apologies that I can come up with for you,” his words are sweet and genuine and you feel like you two are finally getting somewhere.

“Jungkook you know I care about you too,” your voice breaks off at the end, “I don’t care about how we met or the situation we were put in—“

“But I do,” he interrupts, “I think about it all the fucking time. What if we met when I didn’t have a girlfriend? What if we met before I even met her? But we didn’t and I ruined my relationship.”

His words are hurtful, but you know it’s the truth so there isn’t much else you can add. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on his roots a little too hard.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask him trying to ignore his harsh tone. He closes his eyes briefly, as if he’s not sure what to say next, but what he does say causes your heart to drop in the pit of your stomach.

“She found out Y/N,” he finally lets his secret slip past his tongue. “She fucking found out after I broke up with her okay? I’ve never seen someone look more hurt than when she confronted me about and yeah, I feel fucking horrible.”  

“H-how?” You asked shakily.

“She said someone she knew saw us at a party together one night,” he stares at his hands, sounding upset and covered with guilt. Yoongi was right after all. “So sorry if I seem fucking upset,” he’s being sarcastic with his words.

You don’t say anything else. You only stare at his hunched over frame and suddenly, you were torn between two paths. You wished that you had never met Jungkook and created this mess with him. On the other hand, you were glad Jungkook was in your life, no matter the circumstance.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice at you,” he says after your moment of silence.

“Don’t apologize,” you shake your head. “I should be the one apologizing.”

He looks at you once again, “Don’t say that. It’s all my fault.”

You genuinely feel bad for him. While towards the end of his relationship with her, he obviously wasn’t happy and wanted other things, he is still obviously hurt by the situation. You get bold and scoot closer to him, wanting to comfort him as much as possible.

“You know how I feel about you right?” You ask. He nods slowly and you speak again, “I don’t want anything to change between us but Kook, if you need some time and someone to talk to you know I’m here.”

He runs a hand through his hair, “I wasn’t lying when I said all those things to you.” You let your mind drift to his words that have been drilled in your head for months now.

I want to be with you.

You’re everything I’ve wanted.

I promise it’ll be over soon.

Don’t doubt my feelings for you.

“I know that,” you say honestly.

He pauses grabbing your hand gently, “I just don’t think I should jump into this right now when I’m still trying to figure out what to do myself.”

You nod slowly trying to take in and understand his words.

“I get it,” your voice sounds weak and you let go of his hand. “I just don’t want to be dragged around any longer Jungkook…”

He inhales deeply before nodding, “I know… it’s not fair to you I get that,” his tone is rushed, “But I promise I’m gonna try to fix this.”

“What’s there to fix?” You feel angry all of the sudden.

He furrows his eyebrows at you, “Y/N please don’t get mad, I don’t want you angry with me,” he pleads. “I want to be to be with you, I really do, but I also need you to be patient.”

For once, Jungkook is being the sensible one between the two of you. You soon understand you don’t really feel like you have that much of a reason to be angry with him. It was only selfish to do so. After all, hadn’t you been selfish long enough?

“Okay,” you glance at him, “Just please don’t leave me in the dark again.”

He sends you a small smile, pulling you into a deep hug, “I’ll try not to.”

Jungkook was being honest. He knew he had dug himself into a hole that was going to take a long time to crawl out from. He felt absolutely horrible for what he had done to you and his now ex-girlfriend. As holds you close and tight for clarity, he knows what he wants but he isn’t sure if that’s what is best for you. He felt what he did wasn’t acceptable of forgiveness—no matter how much you said you didn’t care and as much as he wanted to make a home out of you, he wasn’t sure he could let himself ruin you any further.

[meteor-sword]

wuko fic outline 🥺🥺

ok this is probably a wuko fic i’ll write sometime. 3 parter >:D 

chapter 1:

post season 4, wu sends a letter to the police station in republic city for mako (beifong gives it to mako and suggests he give wu his address or beifong will have to start screening them) 

it’s a basic update letter, but mako is surprised by wu’s eloquence in writing. maybe he’s a little intimidated by it and he doesn’t want to sound bad in writing so he doesn’t respond

so a second letter comes two weeks later kind of rehashing the same thing but saying he hoped to hear back, hopefully this letter made it to the right place! 

so mako writes back (after having anyone willing read over what he wrote) (and yes i think he had a similar process for writing to korra) 

so every week they’re getting new letters from each other, both expanding discussion topics to more and more personal. 

and then wu drops “i miss you” 

and mako didn’t consider that? that looking forward to getting these letters and taking it so seriously to write back might mean he misses wu too? 

and it evolves from there. maybe mako never considered feelings other than like. resigned obligation to wu-- but he thinks about it after sending another letter and realizes he is not replying to wu out of obligation?

so when wu’s next letter confesses feelings for mako, he internally combusts and coolly takes 2 weeks to write a response and admit he felt similarly (this time he does not have anyone read it over, which adds to how long it takes him to send it)

(CHAPTER 2 + 3 OUTLINES UNDER CUT)

chapter 2: 

wu is visiting republic city

wu is visiting republic city

mako has not spoken to anyone about the revelations their correspondence has brought up, and he doesn’t know what will happen when he sees wu

mako meets wu not far from where he comes off the train and they go to wu’s favorite fusion restaurant in the city and it’s weirdly normal. wu’s new bodyguards are seated at the table and wu keeps the conversation very... shallow. maybe wu changed his mind about mako? :/

they go back to mako and bolin’s apartment for tea and the bodyguards stand outside the door, and it’s instantly easier to talk. mako puts the kettle on to make tea. they stand in the little kitchen together

"so, our letters...” wu starts as the kettle starts burbling. mako grabs it off and puts it on a heat pad

“what about them?” mako asks, pouring the water into the teapot, and wu isn’t looking at him but he

he says “well i was wondering if” and he puts his hand on the handle of the teapot next to mako’s “you meant everything you said” 

AND THEY’RE STANDING SO CLOSE AND MAKO LOOKS AT HIM SURPRISED AND WU LOOKS UP AT HIM and then they are making out in the kitchen against the counter in the way only 3 years of constant contact followed by 6 months of long distance pining can inspire

[fade to black] so then they’re in mako’s bedroom chillin and mako goes “oh no the tea!!!” and grabs it and they drink tea in his room and wu sleeps over :) 

chapter 3

mako wakes up cuddling with wu :) and then remembers the krew was getting brunch together and wu was invited, and bolin might have stayed out late the night before but he was definitely home and awake now so shit

shakes wu awake “hey how comfortable you climbing out a fire escape because you have to do that and we can’t let anyone else know we already met up” 

so um yeah wu climbs out the fire escape and mako gets up and eats a big breakfast with bolin and is entirely totally completely cool and does not give off any odd vibes

[here’s a secret. this apartment may be the first time mako and bolin lived together but had separate rooms, so there are very tenuous boundaries. maybe bolin read the newspaper that morning and went to mako’s room to show him and saw a mess of brown and black hair and froze in the threshold before turning tail and running or maybe not]

so the bros pick up opal from the docks and go to the restaurant they’re getting brunch at with korra, asami and wu. those three are already there, chatting away

so there are at least 2 silent conversations struggling to happen between all 6 of them (mako to wu “have korra and asami figured anything out??”) (bolin to opal “holy shit i have to tell you something”) 

brunch goes smoothly though, and then they’re just hanging out chatting. wu mentions something about the restaurant he and mako ate at the day before and korra points out that she thought he arrived late last night or early this morning

cue panic

bolin sees his opportunity and is like “yeah mako i thought you worked yesterday early morning shift but i didn’t see you at all yesterday?” 

essentially they catch them in the lie, but also bolin isn’t cruel so they leave it at “wow so wu arrived early and only visited mako? i didn’t realize you two were such good friends. ig there were those letters i proofread for you. good for you guys” [bolin doesnt know about the more sensitive letters mako wrote later] 

-- probably cut to the end of wu’s visit, after two weeks of almost constant dates to make up for the 6 months they didn’t see each other and the next 6 months before wu will be able to visit again, and they decide to tell their friends that they’re an item. 

sorry i literally just love the image of wu having to sneak out of their apartment LSKDJF

[hlupdate]

Variety’s Grammy-nominated Hitmaker of the Year goes deep on the music industry, the great pause and finding his own muses.

“We’ll dance again,” Harry Styles coos, the Los Angeles sunshine peeking through his pandemic-shaggy hair just so. The singer, songwriter and actor — beloved and critically acclaimed thanks to his life-affirming year-old album, “Fine Line” — is lamenting that his Variety Hitmaker of the Year cover conversation has to be conducted over Zoom rather than in person. Even via videoconference, the Brit is effortlessly charming, as anyone who’s come within earshot of him would attest, but it quickly becomes clear that beneath that genial smile is a well-honed media strategy.

To wit: In an interview that appears a few days later announcing his investment in a new arena in his native Manchester (more on that in a bit), he repeats the refrain — “There will be a time we dance again”— referencing a much-needed return to live music and the promise of some 4,000 jobs for residents.

None of which is to suggest that Styles, 26, phones it in for interviews. Quite the opposite: He does very few, conceivably to give more of himself and not cheapen what is out there and also to use the publicity opportunity to indulge his other interests, like fashion. (Last month Styles became the first male to grace the cover of Vogue solo.) Still, it stings a little that a waltz with the former One Direction member may not come to pass on this album cycle — curse you, coronavirus.

Styles’ isolation has coincided with his maturation as an artist, a thespian and a person. With “Fine Line,” he’s proved himself a skilled lyricist with a tremendous ear for harmony and melody. In preparing for his role in Olivia Wilde’s period thriller “Don’t Worry Darling,” which is shooting outside Palm Springs, he found an outlet for expression in interpreting words on a page. And for the first time, he’s using his megaphone to speak out about social justice — inspired by the outpouring of support for Black people around the world following the death of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police in May.

Styles has spent much of the past nine months at home in London, where life has slowed considerably. The time has allowed him to ponder such heady issues as his purpose on the earth. “It’s been a pause that I don’t know if I would have otherwise taken,” says Styles. “I think it’s been pretty good for me to have a kind of stop, to look and think about what it actually means to be an artist, what it means to do what we do and why we do it. I lean into moments like this — moments of uncertainty.”

In truth, while Styles has largely been keeping a low profile — his Love On Tour, due to kick off on April 15, was postponed in late March and is now scheduled to launch in February 2021 (whether it actually will remains to be seen) — his music has not. This is especially true in the U.S., where he’s notched two hit singles, “Adore You,” the second-most-played song at radio in 2020, and “Watermelon Sugar” (No. 22 on Variety’s year-end Hitmakers chart), with a third, “Golden,” already cresting the top 20 on the pop format. The massive cross-platform success of these songs means Styles has finally and decisively broken into the American market, maneuvering its web of gatekeepers to accumulate 6.2 million consumption units and rising.

Why do these particular songs resonate in 2020? Styles doesn’t have the faintest idea. While he acknowledges a “nursery rhyme” feel to “Watermelon Sugar” with its earwormy loop of a chorus, that’s about as much insight as he can offer. His longtime collaborator and friend Tom Hull, also known as the producer Kid Harpoon, offers this take: “There’s a lot of amazing things about that song, but what really stands out is the lyric. It’s not trying to hide or be clever. The simplicity of watermelon … there’s such a joy in it, [which] is a massive part of that song’s success.” Also, his kids love it. “I’ve never had a song connect with children in this way,” says Hull, whose credits include tunes by Shawn Mendes, Florence and the Machine and Calvin Harris. “I get sent videos all the time from friends of their kids singing. I have a 3-year-old and an 8-year-old, and they listen to it.”

Styles is quick to note that he doesn’t chase pop appeal when crafting songs. In fact, the times when he pondered or approved a purposeful tweak, like on his self-titled 2017 debut, still gnaw at him. “I love that album so much because it represents such a time in my life, but when I listen to it — sonically and lyrically, especially — I can hear places where I was playing it safe,” he says. “I was scared to get it wrong.”

Contemporary effects and on-trend beats hardly factor into Styles’ decision-making. He likes to focus on feelings — his own and his followers’ — and see himself on the other side of the velvet rope, an important distinction in his view. “People within [the industry] feel like they operate on a higher level of listening, and I like to make music from the point of being a fan of music,” Styles says. “Fans are the best A&R.”

This from someone who’s had free rein to pursue every musical whim, and hand in the album of his dreams in the form of “Fine Line.” Chart success makes it all the sweeter, but Styles insists that writing “for the right reasons” supersedes any commercial considerations. “There’s no part that feels, eh, icky — like it was made in the lab,” he says.

Styles has experience in this realm. As a graduate of the U.K. competition series “The X Factor,” where he and four other auditionees — Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson — were singled out by show creator and star judge Simon Cowell to conjoin as One Direction, he’s seen how the prefab pop machine works up close. The One Direction oeuvre, which counts some 42 million albums sold worldwide, includes songs written with such established hitmakers as Ryan Tedder, Savan Kotecha and Teddy Geiger. Being a studious, insatiable observer, Styles took it all in.

“I learned so much,” he says of the experience. “When we were in the band, I used to try and write with as many different people as I could. I wanted to practice — and I wrote a lot of bad shit.”

His bandmates also benefited from the pop star boot camp. The proof is in the relatively seamless solo transitions of at least three of its members — Payne, Malik and Horan in addition to Styles — each of whom has landed hit singles on charts in the U.K., the U.S. and beyond.

This departs from the typical trajectories of boy bands including New Kids on the Block and ’N Sync, which have all pro ered a star frontman. The thinking for decades was that a record company would be lucky to have one breakout solo career among the bunch.

Styles has plainly thought about this.

“When you look at the history of people coming out of bands and starting solo careers, they feel this need to apologize for being in the band. ‘Don’t worry, everyone, that wasn’t me! Now I get to do what I really want to do.’ But we loved being in the band,” he says. “I think there’s a wont to pit people against each other. And I think it’s never been about that for us. It’s about a next step in evolution. The fact that we’ve all achieved different things outside of the band says a lot about how hard we worked in it.”

Indeed, during the five-ish years that One Direction existed, Styles’ schedule involved the sort of nonstop international jet-setting that few get to see in a lifetime, never mind their teenage years. Between 2011 and 2015, One Direction’s tours pulled in north of $631 million in gross ticket sales, according to concert trade Pollstar, and the band was selling out stadiums worldwide by the time it entered its extended hiatus. Styles, too, had built up to playing arenas as a solo artist, engaging audiences with his colorful stage wear and banter and left-of-center choices for opening acts (a pre-Grammy-haul Kacey Musgraves in 2018; indie darlings King Princess and Jenny Lewis for his rescheduled 2021 run).

Stages of all sizes feel like home to Styles. He grew up in a suburb of Manchester, ground zero for some of the biggest British acts of the 1980s and ’90s, including Joy Division, New Order, the Smiths and Oasis, the latter of which broke the same year Styles was born. His parents were also music lovers. Styles’ father fed him a balanced diet of the Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, the Rolling Stones and Queen, while Mum was a fan of Shania Twain, Norah Jones and Savage Garden. “They’re all great melody writers,” says Styles of the acts’ musical throughline.

Stevie Nicks, who in the past has described “Fine Line” as Styles’ “Rumours,” referencing the Fleetwood Mac 1977 classic, sees him as a kindred spirit. “Harry writes and sings his songs about real experiences that seemingly happened yesterday,” she tells Variety. “He taps into real life. He doesn’t make up stories. He tells the truth, and that is what I do. ‘Fine Line’ has been my favorite record since it came out. It is his ‘Rumours.’ I told him that in a note on December 13, 2019 before he went on stage to play the ‘Fine Line’ album at the Forum. We cried. He sang those songs like he had sung them a thousand times. That’s a great songwriter and a great performer.”

“Harry’s playing and writing is instinctual,” adds Jonathan Wilson, a friend and peer who’s advised Styles on backing and session musicians. “He understands history and where to take the torch. You can see the thread of great British performers — from Bolan to Bowie — in his music.”

Also shaping his musical DNA was Manchester itself, the site of a 23,500-seat arena, dubbed Co-op Live, for which Styles is an investor and adviser. Oak View Group, a company specializing in live entertainment and global sports that was founded by Tim Leiweke and Irving Azoff in 2015 (Jeffrey Azoff, Irving’s son, represents Styles at Full Stop Management), is leading the effort to construct the venue. The project gained planning approval in September and is set to open in 2023, with its arrival representing a £350 million ($455 million) investment in the city. (Worth noting: Manchester is already home to an arena — the site of a 2017 bombing outside an Ariana Grande concert — and a football stadium, where One Love Manchester, an all-star benefit show to raise money for victims of the terrorist attack, took place.)

“I went to my first shows in Manchester,” Styles says of concerts paid for with money earned delivering newspapers for a supermarket called the Co-op. “My friends and I would go in on weekends. There’s so many amazing small venues, and music is such a massive part of the city. I think Manchester deserves it. It feels like a full-circle, coming-home thing to be doing this and to be able to give any kind of input. I’m incredibly proud. Hopefully they’ll let me play there at some point.”

Though Styles has owned properties in Los Angeles, his base for the foreseeable future is London. “I feel like my relationship with L.A. has changed a lot,” he explains. “I’ve kind of accepted that I don’t have to live here anymore; for a while I felt like I was supposed to. Like it meant things were going well. This happened, then you move to L.A.! But I don’t really want to.”

Is it any wonder? Between COVID and the turmoil in the U.S. spurred by the presidential election, Styles, like some 79 million American voters, is recovering from sticker shock over the bill of goods sold to them by the concept of democracy. “In general, as people, there’s a lack of empathy,” he observes. “We found this place that’s so divisive. We just don’t listen to each other anymore. And that’s quite scary.”

That belief prompted Styles to speak out publicly in the wake of George Floyd’s death. As protests in support of Black Lives Matter took to streets all over the world, for Styles, it triggered a period of introspection, as marked by an Instagram message (liked by 2.7 million users and counting) in which he declared: “I do things every day without fear, because I am privileged, and I am privileged every day because I am white. … Being not racist is not enough, we must be anti racist. Social change is enacted when a society mobilizes. I stand in solidarity with all of those protesting. I’m donating to help post bail for arrested organizers. Look inwards, educate yourself and others. LISTEN, READ, SHARE, DONATE and VOTE. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. BLACK LIVES MATTER.”

“Talking about race can be really uncomfortable for everyone,” Styles elaborates. “I had a realization that my own comfort in the conversation has nothing to do with the problem — like that’s not enough of a reason to not have a conversation. Looking back, I don’t think I’ve been outspoken enough in the past. Using that feeling has pushed me forward to being open and ready to learn. … How can I ensure from my side that in 20 years, the right things are still being done and the right people are getting the right opportunities? That it’s not a passing thing?”

His own record company — and corporate parent Sony Music Group, whose chairman, Rob Stringer, signed Styles in 2016 — has been grappling with these same questions as the industry has faced its own reckoning with race. At issue: inequality among the upper ranks (an oft-cited statistic: popular music is 80% Black, but the music business is 80% white); contracts rooted in a decades-old system that many say is set up to take advantage of artists, Black artists more unfairly than white; and the call for a return of master rights, an ownership model that is at the core of the business.

Styles acknowledges the fundamental imbalance in how a major label deal is structured — the record company takes on the financial risk while the artist is made to recoup money spent on the project before the act is considered profitable and earning royalties (typically at a 15% to 18% rate for the artist, while the label keeps and disburses the rest). “Historically, I can’t think of any industry that’s benefited more off of Black culture than music,” he says. “There are discussions that need to happen about this long history of not being paid fairly. It’s a time for listening, and hopefully, people will come out humbled, educated and willing to learn and change.”

By all accounts, Styles is a voracious reader, a movie lover and an aesthete. He stays in shape by adhering to a strict daily exercise routine. “I tried to keep up but didn’t last more than two weeks,” says Hull, Styles’ producer, with a laugh. “The discipline is terrifying.”

Of course, with the fashion world beckoning — Styles recently appeared in a film series for Gucci’s new collection that was co-directed by the fashion house’s creative director, Alessandro Michele, and Oscar winner Gus Van Sant — and a movie that’s set in the 1950s, maintaining that physique is part of the job. And he’s no stranger to visual continuity after appearing in Christopher Nolan’s epic “Dunkirk” and having to return to set for reshoots; his hair, which needed to be cut back to its circa 1940 form, is a constant topic of conversation among fans. This time, it’s the ink that poses a challenge. By Styles’ tally, he’s up to 60 tattoos, which require an hour in the makeup chair to cover up. “It’s the only time I really regret getting tattooed,” he says.

He shows no regret, however, when it comes to stylistic choices overall, and takes pride in his gender-agnostic portfolio, which includes wearing a Gucci dress on that Vogue cover— an image that incited conservative pundit Candace Owens to plead publicly to “bring back manly men.” In Styles’ view: “To not wear [something] because it’s females’ clothing, you shut out a whole world of great clothes. And I think what’s exciting about right now is you can wear what you like. It doesn’t have to be X or Y. Those lines are becoming more and more blurred.”

But acclaim, if you can believe it, is not top of mind for Styles. As far as the Grammys are concerned, Styles shrugs, “It’s never why I do anything.” His team and longtime label, however, had their hearts set on a showing at the Jan. 31 ceremony. Their investment in Styles has been substantial — not just monetarily but in carefully crafting his career in the wake of such icons as David Bowie, who released his final albums with the label. Hope at the company and in many fans’ hearts that Styles would receive an album of the year nomination did not come to pass. However, he was recognized in three categories, including best pop vocal album.

“It’s always nice to know that people like what you’re doing, but ultimately — and especially working in a subjective field — I don’t put too much weight on that stuff,” Styles says. “I think it’s important when making any kind of art to remove the ego from it.” Citing the painter Matisse, he adds: “It’s about the work that you do when you’re not expecting any applause.”

[poliel]

Surprise Egg: 6/13: Adoption

They could’ve perhaps gone straight to Gramble and asked him to adopt the egg but while they were both reasonably sure he’d say ‘yes’ putting that kind of pressure on him wouldn’t have been fair. And it potentially would’ve gotten the town rumor mill going and even in a small town, rumors could get out of control very quickly. They could’ve also gone to each person individually and asked everyone but that was a lot of work and again letting that kind of news possibly spread around unsupervised wouldn’t be wise. So the best and easiest course of action was to gather everyone in town and tell them all at once, asking for volunteers while doing so.

Filbo, amazing and wonderful as always, volunteered to be the one to deliver the news without Buddy even having to ask him to. Which was doubly good because it freed them up to keep watch how everyone reacted and hopefully observe how judgmental they were all likely to be. Buddy had encountered enough hostility from others over expressing their desire to never have kids when it was merely hypothetical, such judgment was only bound to be much worse when there was an actual egg in the equation. They weren’t going to tolerate it if it arose, especially since Filbo had already expressed feeling guilty over the decision.

“As you guys already know, Buddy and I have an egg,” Filbo said as soon as everyone had gathered in the center of town. Given how unsure he’d been just a little while ago, his voice was impressively almost steady, for him anyway. “We had a talk about it after they woke up and we have decided that being parent isn’t a good fit for us and that we should uh… put the egg up for adoption. Which is where you guys come in since you’re the only ones here who could possibly adopt it. So uh… any volunteers?”

The look on most everyone’s face was surprise. As expected, the expressed desire to not be a parent was a rare thing, even more so when an egg had already been born. No one looked mad or offended right off the bat though, seemingly so anyway because Cromdo always looked kind of angry.

Gramble unsurprisingly was the first to step forward. He didn’t get a chance to speak though as Cromdo stepped forward too, cutting him off. “What kind of grump actually wants to give their child up and never see them again? That just don’t make sense.”

“Geez Cromdo,” Beffica cut in, “you seem awfully into this egg. First you’re giving Filbo advice on how to take care of it and now you’re offended he doesn’t want to. And you got that dad tie in your hut, I was sure it was for a scheme but now I’m starting to think it might not be.”

He turned to growl at her. “What are you doing snooping around my cabin? That tie and why I have it ain’t none of yours or anyone else’s business. But…” he snapped back around to face Buddy and Filbo again, “if you two assholes really don’t got what it takes to care for that egg, I’ll do it.”

“No!” Gramble finally spoke up. “I want it. I’ve always wanted an egg but uh… Just let me adopt it, okay?”

“Well if Gramble wants it then I do too,” Wiggle came in with her almost sing-songy tone. “Maybe taking care of a little one will be the exact thing my muse needs to get kicked into gear.”

“You two know I’d take better care of it then Cromdo,” Gramble said. “Especially with Wiggle’s help.”

To nobody’s surprise Cromdo had an objection to that. “Nuh-uh, you’re half-starved and Wiggle just said she wants to use the grumpling solely for inspiration so how could you two possibly do a good job raising a kid?”

“Uh… for what it’s worth,” Triffany cut in before Gramble or Wiggle could do more than gasp in offense, “me and Wamby just had a quick talk and we got experience with raising youngins, two of them in fact and they turned out great. We was thinking about having another but uh… waited a bit too long it seems. So we’d like to be considered for adopting the egg too please.”

“Heck, I volunteer also,” Beffica said, raising a paw.

“You? Really?” Cromdo said, almost as incredulous as Buddy felt.

“Yeah. It’s none of your business why, but I think having a little grumpling might be nice.” Ah, yeah, probably something to do with her expressed belief that she was always gonna end up alone if Buddy had to guess. “Especially since with so many others here who want it too, I’d probably have plenty of help taking care of them and stuff, right?”

“That’s a great idea Beff!” Filbo cut in, pointing at her. “Since all you guys want it, you can maybe all adopt it? And like take turns with it or something. It wouldn’t even be that hard to do with how everyone’s practically neighbours here. And that way Buddy and I don’t have to choose. And, there’s that ‘it takes a village to raise a child,’ saying. It’s probably true, right? So… if everyone’s cool with that…” he trialed off, opening his arms in a gesture for one of the potential adoptees to speak again.

“Well,” Wambus spoke up, “it’s your egg. If that’s how you and Buddy want us to do it then we could probably give it a go. It’d let me and Triffy continue focusing on our own stuff a lot too.”

Filbo turned to Buddy, the question on his face. Trying not to notice how everyone else was staring at them now too, they shrugged. “It can’t hurt, can it?”

Filbo turned back to face everyone else. “I guess that’s how we’re going to do it. You guys can figure out the specifics amongst yourselves, right?”

“Yep! And dibs on pouching the egg first.” Before she’d even finished speaking, Beffica was making her way over to Buddy. “Hey Bestie, I’ll take good care of them, I promise. I’ll make sure the others do too.”

“Thanks,” Buddy said as they handed the egg over with an internal sigh of relief. That had been surprisingly easy and quick to get taken care of and other than Cromdo no one had gotten openly angry at them. The whole thing was almost too good to be true.

As soon as it was safely in Beffica’s paws and before any of the others could get here, they turned and left. Fast walking away because they were done with all that and had important stuff to get back to.

“Wow, that went really well,” Filbo said as he fell into step with them.

“Yeah. No regrets, right?” Buddy certainly felt none.

“Uh… no actually. I still feel kind of bad about doing it or uh… wanting to do it I guess but… it’s a huge relief too.”

“Good.”

A few seconds later, they reached Filbo’s hut. Inside, they pulled their backpack up off the floor and opened it up to pull out Sprout. He seemed rather miffed about having been left in the dark for so long if his frantic skittering around against the walls of his buggy ball and agitated tone in his voice was anything to go by. They pushed him back into their pouch where he belonged, quieting him down immediately. Hmm… they were more attached to a strawberry with googly eyes than to their own egg. That was certainly a bit strange but it didn’t really matter, everyone was happier this way.

Next, they pulled out their camera and hung it around their neck. Then, after zipping the pack closed, they checked to make sure all their hunting equipment was firmly attached to it and that their notebook and recorder were safely in the side pocket before heaving it up onto their shoulders. They then turned to towards the exit where Filbo was standing watching them with a concerned expression on his face. Uh oh.

“You’re uh… not planning on heading out, are you?” he asked even though the way he was blocking the door made it pretty clear he already knew the answer and didn’t like it.

Buddy had to hold back a sigh at yet another delay. “I need to find the Snaxsquatch again and see if I can’t get it to communicate with me more.” And thank it for helping them out. “And I also need to hunt for food for everyone. And I still need to find Lizbert, remember? She’s kinda important for my story and your best friend so you should want me to find her as soon as possible.”

Filbo shifted his stance a bit so that he was blocking the door a bit more. “I do but… you literally gave birth yesterday. You need to rest.”

“I rested plenty already.” That had been the longest they’d slept perhaps in their whole life, especially if one didn’t count the half-awake state they’d been in when stumbling out to raid Wambus’ garden as being properly awake. “It was like midday yesterday when I went into labor and it’s past midday now. That’s like a whole twenty-four hours wasted already.” Not to mention all the time they’d wasted over the past few months because providing for the formation of the egg inside them had drained so much of their already sparse resources. Now that it was outof them, they could devote themself even more to finding Lizbert and completing their story.

Filbo’s frown deepened, making Buddy feel bad because they just wanted to make him happy. “Please. Just… for the rest of today. You can get back to work tomorrow after breakfast but… just take it easy for a little while longer.”

Buddy took a breath to insist on going out now because it was important. The story and finding Lizbert for her sake most of all but the sooner they finished, the sooner they could go home and eat real food again too. If they pushed hard enough, they could probably get Filbo to fold and let them go or perhaps he might firmly stand his ground for once, that’d be nice to see. But… they were still really tired and sore, their pelvis most of all but definitely they just hurt in general too. And they didn’t want to test Filbo’s newfound limits, not yet anyway, not right after the emotional conversation they’d just had about the egg and possibly breaking up over it. So… with a sigh they took their pack off and let it drop to the floor with a thump.

“Does this mean you’re not going out?” Filbo asked with hope and maybe a bit of pride in his voice.

“Yeah.” They put their precious camera away again, not bothering to hide the fact that they were unhappy about this. They reached down to pull Sprout out of their pouch too but… no, he got to stay just because. So instead they turned to look at Filbo again. “As soon as I’m up tomorrow morning, I’m heading out.”

“After breakfast.”

“No. I’ll eat breakfast while on the go.” It would give them an excuse to walk slow.

Filbo looked like he was going to protest but ultimately sighed and finally stepped away the door. “Okay, I guess that’s probably the best I can hope for, huh?”

“Yep.”

~

I'm allowed to dip into the same well of inspiration twice; half the town adopting the egg is inspired by the Adopted Egg AU. Conversations about that started up around the time I was getting close to writing this chapter and I liked it so half the town adopts it because that kind of thing is cute. Though, unlike the Adopted Egg AU, it doesn't eventually extend into everyone having a turn with the egg, only the group who spoke up have adopted it here.

Also, this was were the fic was supposed to end but it didn't feel complete yet especially with Buddy's instance on being like 'now that that's taken care of it's time for me to go run around and do stuff again' even though they'd just finished going through a surprise labor like 24 hours ago. So I continued writing until the physical fallout of the pregnancy and birth while they're so malnourished and stuff reach a conclusion as well.

[hldailyupdate]

This Charming Man: Why We’re Wild About Harry Styles

Variety’s Grammy-nominated Hitmaker of the Year goes deep on the music industry, the great pause and finding his own muses.

“We’ll dance again,” Harry Styles coos, the Los Angeles sunshine peeking through his pandemic-shaggy hair just so. The singer, songwriter and actor — beloved and critically acclaimed thanks to his life-affirming year-old album, “Fine Line” — is lamenting that his Variety Hitmaker of the Year cover conversation has to be conducted over Zoom rather than in person. Even via videoconference, the Brit is effortlessly charming, as anyone who’s come within earshot of him would attest, but it quickly becomes clear that beneath that genial smile is a well-honed media strategy.

To wit: In an interview that appears a few days later announcing his investment in a new arena in his native Manchester (more on that in a bit), he repeats the refrain — “There will be a time we dance again”— referencing a much-needed return to live music and the promise of some 4,000 jobs for residents.

None of which is to suggest that Styles, 26, phones it in for interviews. Quite the opposite: He does very few, conceivably to give more of himself and not cheapen what is out there and also to use the publicity opportunity to indulge his other interests, like fashion. (Last month Styles became the first male to grace the cover of Vogue solo.) Still, it stings a little that a waltz with the former One Direction member may not come to pass on this album cycle — curse you, coronavirus.

Styles’ isolation has coincided with his maturation as an artist, a thespian and a person. With “Fine Line,” he’s proved himself a skilled lyricist with a tremendous ear for harmony and melody. In preparing for his role in Olivia Wilde’s period thriller “Don’t Worry Darling,” which is shooting outside Palm Springs, he found an outlet for expression in interpreting words on a page. And for the first time, he’s using his megaphone to speak out about social justice — inspired by the outpouring of support for Black people around the world following the death of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police in May.

Styles has spent much of the past nine months at home in London, where life has slowed considerably. The time has allowed him to ponder such heady issues as his purpose on the earth. “It’s been a pause that I don’t know if I would have otherwise taken,” says Styles. “I think it’s been pretty good for me to have a kind of stop, to look and think about what it actually means to be an artist, what it means to do what we do and why we do it. I lean into moments like this — moments of uncertainty.”

In truth, while Styles has largely been keeping a low profile — his Love On Tour, due to kick off on April 15, was postponed in late March and is now scheduled to launch in February 2021 (whether it actually will remains to be seen) — his music has not. This is especially true in the U.S., where he’s notched two hit singles, “Adore You,” the second-most-played song at radio in 2020, and “Watermelon Sugar” (No. 22 on Variety’s year-end Hitmakers chart), with a third, “Golden,” already cresting the top 20 on the pop format. The massive cross-platform success of these songs means Styles has finally and decisively broken into the American market, maneuvering its web of gatekeepers to accumulate 6.2 million consumption units and rising.

Why do these particular songs resonate in 2020? Styles doesn’t have the faintest idea. While he acknowledges a “nursery rhyme” feel to “Watermelon Sugar” with its earwormy loop of a chorus, that’s about as much insight as he can offer. His longtime collaborator and friend Tom Hull, also known as the producer Kid Harpoon, offers this take: “There’s a lot of amazing things about that song, but what really stands out is the lyric. It’s not trying to hide or be clever. The simplicity of watermelon … there’s such a joy in it, [which] is a massive part of that song’s success.” Also, his kids love it. “I’ve never had a song connect with children in this way,” says Hull, whose credits include tunes by Shawn Mendes, Florence and the Machine and Calvin Harris. “I get sent videos all the time from friends of their kids singing. I have a 3-year-old and an 8-year-old, and they listen to it.”

Styles is quick to note that he doesn’t chase pop appeal when crafting songs. In fact, the times when he pondered or approved a purposeful tweak, like on his self-titled 2017 debut, still gnaw at him. “I love that album so much because it represents such a time in my life, but when I listen to it — sonically and lyrically, especially — I can hear places where I was playing it safe,” he says. “I was scared to get it wrong.”

Contemporary effects and on-trend beats hardly factor into Styles’ decision-making. He likes to focus on feelings — his own and his followers’ — and see himself on the other side of the velvet rope, an important distinction in his view. “People within [the industry] feel like they operate on a higher level of listening, and I like to make music from the point of being a fan of music,” Styles says. “Fans are the best A&R.”

This from someone who’s had free rein to pursue every musical whim, and hand in the album of his dreams in the form of “Fine Line.” Chart success makes it all the sweeter, but Styles insists that writing “for the right reasons” supersedes any commercial considerations. “There’s no part that feels, eh, icky — like it was made in the lab,” he says.

Styles has experience in this realm. As a graduate of the U.K. competition series “The X Factor,” where he and four other auditionees — Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson — were singled out by show creator and star judge Simon Cowell to conjoin as One Direction, he’s seen how the prefab pop machine works up close. The One Direction oeuvre, which counts some 42 million albums sold worldwide, includes songs written with such established hitmakers as Ryan Tedder, Savan Kotecha and Teddy Geiger. Being a studious, insatiable observer, Styles took it all in.

“I learned so much,” he says of the experience. “When we were in the band, I used to try and write with as many different people as I could. I wanted to practice — and I wrote a lot of bad shit.”

His bandmates also benefited from the pop star boot camp. The proof is in the relatively seamless solo transitions of at least three of its members — Payne, Malik and Horan in addition to Styles — each of whom has landed hit singles on charts in the U.K., the U.S. and beyond.

This departs from the typical trajectories of boy bands including New Kids on the Block and ’N Sync, which have all pro ered a star frontman. The thinking for decades was that a record company would be lucky to have one breakout solo career among the bunch.

Styles has plainly thought about this.

“When you look at the history of people coming out of bands and starting solo careers, they feel this need to apologize for being in the band. ‘Don’t worry, everyone, that wasn’t me! Now I get to do what I really want to do.’ But we loved being in the band,” he says. “I think there’s a wont to pit people against each other. And I think it’s never been about that for us. It’s about a next step in evolution. The fact that we’ve all achieved different things outside of the band says a lot about how hard we worked in it.”

Indeed, during the five-ish years that One Direction existed, Styles’ schedule involved the sort of nonstop international jet-setting that few get to see in a lifetime, never mind their teenage years. Between 2011 and 2015, One Direction’s tours pulled in north of $631 million in gross ticket sales, according to concert trade Pollstar, and the band was selling out stadiums worldwide by the time it entered its extended hiatus. Styles, too, had built up to playing arenas as a solo artist, engaging audiences with his colorful stage wear and banter and left-of-center choices for opening acts (a pre-Grammy-haul Kacey Musgraves in 2018; indie darlings King Princess and Jenny Lewis for his rescheduled 2021 run).

Stages of all sizes feel like home to Styles. He grew up in a suburb of Manchester, ground zero for some of the biggest British acts of the 1980s and ’90s, including Joy Division, New Order, the Smiths and Oasis, the latter of which broke the same year Styles was born. His parents were also music lovers. Styles’ father fed him a balanced diet of the Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, the Rolling Stones and Queen, while Mum was a fan of Shania Twain, Norah Jones and Savage Garden. “They’re all great melody writers,” says Styles of the acts’ musical throughline.

Stevie Nicks, who in the past has described “Fine Line” as Styles’ “Rumours,” referencing the Fleetwood Mac 1977 classic, sees him as a kindred spirit. “Harry writes and sings his songs about real experiences that seemingly happened yesterday,” she tells Variety. “He taps into real life. He doesn’t make up stories. He tells the truth, and that is what I do. ‘Fine Line’ has been my favorite record since it came out. It is his ‘Rumours.’ I told him that in a note on December 13, 2019 before he went on stage to play the ‘Fine Line’ album at the Forum. We cried. He sang those songs like he had sung them a thousand times. That’s a great songwriter and a great performer.”

“Harry’s playing and writing is instinctual,” adds Jonathan Wilson, a friend and peer who’s advised Styles on backing and session musicians. “He understands history and where to take the torch. You can see the thread of great British performers — from Bolan to Bowie — in his music.”

Also shaping his musical DNA was Manchester itself, the site of a 23,500-seat arena, dubbed Co-op Live, for which Styles is an investor and adviser. Oak View Group, a company specializing in live entertainment and global sports that was founded by Tim Leiweke and Irving Azoff in 2015 (Jeffrey Azoff, Irving’s son, represents Styles at Full Stop Management), is leading the effort to construct the venue. The project gained planning approval in September and is set to open in 2023, with its arrival representing a £350 million ($455 million) investment in the city. (Worth noting: Manchester is already home to an arena — the site of a 2017 bombing outside an Ariana Grande concert — and a football stadium, where One Love Manchester, an all-star benefit show to raise money for victims of the terrorist attack, took place.)

“I went to my first shows in Manchester,” Styles says of concerts paid for with money earned delivering newspapers for a supermarket called the Co-op. “My friends and I would go in on weekends. There’s so many amazing small venues, and music is such a massive part of the city. I think Manchester deserves it. It feels like a full-circle, coming-home thing to be doing this and to be able to give any kind of input. I’m incredibly proud. Hopefully they’ll let me play there at some point.”

Though Styles has owned properties in Los Angeles, his base for the foreseeable future is London. “I feel like my relationship with L.A. has changed a lot,” he explains. “I’ve kind of accepted that I don’t have to live here anymore; for a while I felt like I was supposed to. Like it meant things were going well. This happened, then you move to L.A.! But I don’t really want to.”

Is it any wonder? Between COVID and the turmoil in the U.S. spurred by the presidential election, Styles, like some 79 million American voters, is recovering from sticker shock over the bill of goods sold to them by the concept of democracy. “In general, as people, there’s a lack of empathy,” he observes. “We found this place that’s so divisive. We just don’t listen to each other anymore. And that’s quite scary.”

That belief prompted Styles to speak out publicly in the wake of George Floyd’s death. As protests in support of Black Lives Matter took to streets all over the world, for Styles, it triggered a period of introspection, as marked by an Instagram message (liked by 2.7 million users and counting) in which he declared: “I do things every day without fear, because I am privileged, and I am privileged every day because I am white. … Being not racist is not enough, we must be anti racist. Social change is enacted when a society mobilizes. I stand in solidarity with all of those protesting. I’m donating to help post bail for arrested organizers. Look inwards, educate yourself and others. LISTEN, READ, SHARE, DONATE and VOTE. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. BLACK LIVES MATTER.”

“Talking about race can be really uncomfortable for everyone,” Styles elaborates. “I had a realization that my own comfort in the conversation has nothing to do with the problem — like that’s not enough of a reason to not have a conversation. Looking back, I don’t think I’ve been outspoken enough in the past. Using that feeling has pushed me forward to being open and ready to learn. … How can I ensure from my side that in 20 years, the right things are still being done and the right people are getting the right opportunities? That it’s not a passing thing?”

His own record company — and corporate parent Sony Music Group, whose chairman, Rob Stringer, signed Styles in 2016 — has been grappling with these same questions as the industry has faced its own reckoning with race. At issue: inequality among the upper ranks (an oft-cited statistic: popular music is 80% Black, but the music business is 80% white); contracts rooted in a decades-old system that many say is set up to take advantage of artists, Black artists more unfairly than white; and the call for a return of master rights, an ownership model that is at the core of the business.

Styles acknowledges the fundamental imbalance in how a major label deal is structured — the record company takes on the financial risk while the artist is made to recoup money spent on the project before the act is considered profitable and earning royalties (typically at a 15% to 18% rate for the artist, while the label keeps and disburses the rest). “Historically, I can’t think of any industry that’s benefited more off of Black culture than music,” he says. “There are discussions that need to happen about this long history of not being paid fairly. It’s a time for listening, and hopefully, people will come out humbled, educated and willing to learn and change.”

By all accounts, Styles is a voracious reader, a movie lover and an aesthete. He stays in shape by adhering to a strict daily exercise routine. “I tried to keep up but didn’t last more than two weeks,” says Hull, Styles’ producer, with a laugh. “The discipline is terrifying.”

Of course, with the fashion world beckoning — Styles recently appeared in a film series for Gucci’s new collection that was co-directed by the fashion house’s creative director, Alessandro Michele, and Oscar winner Gus Van Sant — and a movie that’s set in the 1950s, maintaining that physique is part of the job. And he’s no stranger to visual continuity after appearing in Christopher Nolan’s epic “Dunkirk” and having to return to set for reshoots; his hair, which needed to be cut back to its circa 1940 form, is a constant topic of conversation among fans. This time, it’s the ink that poses a challenge. By Styles’ tally, he’s up to 60 tattoos, which require an hour in the makeup chair to cover up. “It’s the only time I really regret getting tattooed,” he says.

He shows no regret, however, when it comes to stylistic choices overall, and takes pride in his gender-agnostic portfolio, which includes wearing a Gucci dress on that Vogue cover— an image that incited conservative pundit Candace Owens to plead publicly to “bring back manly men.” In Styles’ view: “To not wear [something] because it’s females’ clothing, you shut out a whole world of great clothes. And I think what’s exciting about right now is you can wear what you like. It doesn’t have to be X or Y. Those lines are becoming more and more blurred.”

But acclaim, if you can believe it, is not top of mind for Styles. As far as the Grammys are concerned, Styles shrugs, “It’s never why I do anything.” His team and longtime label, however, had their hearts set on a showing at the Jan. 31 ceremony. Their investment in Styles has been substantial — not just monetarily but in carefully crafting his career in the wake of such icons as David Bowie, who released his final albums with the label. Hope at the company and in many fans’ hearts that Styles would receive an album of the year nomination did not come to pass. However, he was recognized in three categories, including best pop vocal album.

“It’s always nice to know that people like what you’re doing, but ultimately — and especially working in a subjective field — I don’t put too much weight on that stuff,” Styles says. “I think it’s important when making any kind of art to remove the ego from it.” Citing the painter Matisse, he adds: “It’s about the work that you do when you’re not expecting any applause.”

Harry for Variety. (2 December 2020)

[yangrr]

dear no one [q.kun]

⇾ pairing : qian kun x reader

⇾ summary : love is worth the wait,especially when it’s your favourite food store aunty’s grandson

⇾ wc : 2k

⇾ genre/warnings : implied soulmate! au,inspired by Tori Kelly’s Dear No One | mild swearing

+if i may add,i want to dedicate this to @nctream​ who has always been the writer whom i admired for the longest time.thank you for being the sweetest person i came across this hellsite,though i never actually communicate with you but you’re so incredible and i hope you know that.much love!

All your life,you’ve wanted nothing more than to meet the one,the soulmate who was allegedly entwined with your soul before your time on Earth even began ticking.Everyone has someone,it was just a matter of time before you meet them.But that was also exactly why you were impatient,counting down daily on the crossed-out boxes of your yearly calendar,most of your friends had met theirs by now.Some married,some even with kids---or just happily dating.All but you.

It sucked really.

Going to work in the wretched company every day was like a punch to the guts when everyone around you was all about love.Mrs Kim on the marketing department always showed off her vacation photos--it was always jolly and exciting,grinning faces of her twin boys seemed to mock you for your lack of relationship.And there was also Mr Lee,a young intern who was at least 4 years younger than you but had already found his one and only.

And how about Mr Park,the old bumbling guy nearing his retirement age?His sweet plump wife never forgets to pack him lunch,constantly reminding him to wear his tweed coat in case he catches a cold in the draughty security room.

What about you?No one to come home to,no one packing your lunch or was there a partner for holidays.Twenty-three pushing twenty-four with no felicity in love.Lady Luck never smiled at you much,you could say.Maybe it’s your resting bitch face,it could probably scare off the fortune bearing deity and leave her quivering in her robes.

The day was cold as it is,heavy rain started its relentless onslaught on the wooden roof of the rickety store off the main road.You were craving hot soup after work and thought it would be a good idea to drive off course to visit the dear old lady who ran the shop on her own.She was an amiable creature,forever ready to offer a radiant smile that let her old beauty trickle through.The granny would probably be one of the few people you were genuinely nice to,which explains your big chunk of discount every time you stopped by.

But it wasn’t a good idea of course.Nothing you ever did was a good idea.

Your engine couldn’t start up after running in the rain for your car.Other than damaging the leather seats of your vehicle,your heels sunk deep into the slushy mud and broke right when you yanked upwards to get it out.Groaning in frustration,your fingers latched onto the tresses of your wet hair,the half-cracking nail getting caught between them.You forgot to cut them last night,and now it had turned its head back to bite you in the arse.

The you that made your way back into the shop shocked the small-framed lady,your disheveled appearance a huge contrast to the sleek you that had left the store a few minutes ago.You probably gave her little heart the dose of pump she never needed.

“Dear,what happened?”She exclaimed,scurrying over to you with two thick towels. “You’ll have to dry off,or you’ll be sick!”

She sat you down on the chair behind the counter,while you attempted to shield your ratty image from the prying eyes of her customers.It didn’t really work though,they still locked glances on you,curious and hushed gossip brewing among the group of malevolent looking ladies who look upon you with their beady eyes.

“Come,”She urged,ushering you towards the baby blue curtains that led into the kitchen,maybe.There was a “STAFF ONLY” hanging above the entrance,and the sound of pans clanging gave it away.

“Qian Kun!”Her frail voice shrieked in Mandarin, “Qian Kun,where are you,you lazy boy,”Tugging you by the arm,she led you further into the cooking area.The smell of cooking was making your full stomach rumble again,and you once again longed for the hot herbal soup with noodles. “Are you on your phone again?”

“I’m not lazy!”Was the reply.A fairly built man emerged out of nowhere,eyebrows furrowed in confusion when his eyes rested on your straggly form. “Who’s this?The new cashier?”He queried,wiping his wet hands on the rag by the table.

You couldn't answer,your usually sharp tongue felt prickly and numb.You only stared back absent-mindedly,but he looked about as enamoured by you like you had been by him.

You knew the old lady told him something,and with the way she was yelling at him,you figured he was too zoned out to concentrate.Both of you tore your gazes away from each other when his grandmother reached up to his broad shoulders to give him a good shake.

“You never listen to me.” She grumbled,huffing indignantly. “All I told you to do is to lend them something to wear,and drop them back.”

The granny gave Kun a small shove, “Naughty boy,and you were so cute back then.”She muttered,retying her apron hastily and hurrying away to wait on the unattended counter.

“I’m still cute now.”He mumbled,looking sheepish in front of you. “I-uh-I apologise,that was embarrassing.”

“No worries.”You let out a small giggle,waving his comment off. “Your grandmother is cute.”

The corners of his mouth pulled up in an amused smile,while he gestured for you to follow him. “I hope you can fit into my granny’s clothes,they are a little old-fashioned but I think you can make it work.”

The door behind the pantry led up to a stairway of wooden steps,and then into a fairly warm lounge.There was a small couch,and a bed accompanied with a shelf of books and board games.You supposed that this could be their resting place of some sort when they closed temporarily for the day,lunch break, or whenever someone feels a little out of it.

“This place looks really comfortable.”You remarked,shifting your black button-up from sticking onto your skin.It clung on like leeches,making this whole ordeal more unpleasant than it already is.The nail was giving you excruciating pain,the shard of the broken end digging vehemently into your fingertips.

“It is,my granny made sure it’s the best condition so all the employees would feel comfy here.” Kun rummaged in the closet to the left of the bed,fishing out a pair of loose black pants and a plain white tee. “Here,she didn’t leave any shirts here,but I hope you’re okay with mine.”

You nodded thankfully,reaching out to take them from him.The shirt smelled nice,your nose picking up on the lavender-scented detergent wafting from the material.

“Then I’ll drive you home?” The warm tone of his voice felt homely, sending hot waves across your body,making you feel like a lightheaded teenager talking to their crush for the first time,tongue heavy with nerves.But yet at the same time,the attraction that bloomed in your chest felt more matured and controlled than the seventeen-year-old you,age muffling the lovesick squeals that you would’ve let out when you’re alone in your room.

You had felt something when you first landed eyes on him,a familiar feeling stemming that made it impossible to wound your mind around.Maybe it was your affection deprived self that was being delusional,and it would pass like one of your many fleeting crushes.

But you couldn’t help but let your mind wander,thinking about what if he was the one you’ve been waiting for?

+

If there was a chance to hit the pause button,you would, in half a heartbeat.The quiet fragments of conversation shared brought you a sense of ease that you’ve never felt in a long time,with white noises and soft tunes of guitar strumming playing from the car radio was almost ethereal.The drizzle of the rain incorporated flavour to the moment like the topping to your favourite dessert,it was the perfect addition that completed the time shared.

“I’ll drop by tomorrow to return the clothes.”You said,unbuckling the seatbelt as he stopped in the lobby of your apartment complex.

“Alright,I guess I’ll see you tomorrow again?”Kun smiled,the kind that made your organs go mushy and all gooey,like someone stuck a ladle in you and began to stir aggressively.

“For sure!Thank you for the lift.” You limped out of the car slowly,careful to not cause more impairment to your shoes.You didn’t fancy going up the elevator looking like someone ran you over with a truck,but there wasn’t much of an option.

All you could think of that night were Qian Kun and his calloused fingers,deep timbre voice and gentle smiles.Maybe you were going crazy,but again,there wasn’t much of an option either.

+

“You seem very happy today.” Mrs Kim from the marketing team mentioned,the cheerful grin almost blinding you.You couldn’t help but spot the striking resemblance of the smile to her sons.Now,it suddenly appeared more kind and less scornful than you thought,and you felt a little bad for always being grouchy towards her.You realised it was nothing but your loneliness coming into play,and you would even admit that you were envious of her happy family life. “Had a great day yesterday?”

“Not really,no,”You told her. “But I guess it wasn’t all that bad.”

So the tales of yesterday’s misfortunes came pouring out of you,from the dreaded engine to the antagonising broken nail,Mrs Kim was more than shocked to see the unconscious tug of your lips upwards.

“And you’re still smiling after all that?”She laughed. “I’m gonna say that you met someone.”

Your eyes widened a bit,trying to cough it off. “I didn’t!It was just the store owner’s grandson.”

“So there is someone?”Mrs Kim waggled her eyebrows at you. “You cannot hide from me,child.That’s the face of an infatuated person.”

+

The bell jingled when you pushed open the glass door.Stepping in,you opened your mouth to greet the granny like usual,but was met with an unknown face gaping at you.It was a boy,around a few years younger,round marble eyes curious yet welcoming.His booming tone greeted you,far too much enthusiasm for your liking.

“Hello,welcome!What would you like today,miss?We have chicken noodle soup for today’s special and--,”

“Lucas,please stop talking so loudly.”Kun’s voice reverberated from behind the thin curtains. “You’re gonna scare all the customers on your first day.”

“I’m here to see Kun.”You spoke to the giant of a human,glancing swiftly at the kitchen entrance,slightly intimidated by his tall stature.He gave you a quick once-over,looking a bit confused.

“Are you his girlfriend?”He questioned,shooting you a broad smirk. “Kun ge is so lucky,I’m--”

“Lucas,what’s taking so long?”Kun appeared again like the first time you met him,drying his damp hands on a small rag. “Oh!”

“Oh,indeed.”Lucas said,mischief written all over his face. “Is this your girlfriend,gege?Should I let granny know about this?”

Kun scowled at him,murmuring something along the lines of ‘if you don’t shut up,I’ll make sure you don’t have a job by the end of today.’

“Hey.”

You passed him the neatly packed parcel, “I’ve washed everything.Thank you again for being so kind to me.”

“I say this calls for a celebration.” Lucas interrupted,peeking from behind the cash register. “Kun,remember that sushi place you wanted to try out?The one near the local university.”

Kun hummed, “What celebration?”

“That someone is finally into you for the first time in twenty-four years?You should appreciate this effort made by this very beautiful individual.”

“Would you kindly shut the fuck up?”Kun hissed,the frown intensifying.

“Well,if you need someone to go with,I know a person who would very much like to.”You interjected,growing more bashful by the second.

“Great!Now you two settle between yourselves.I’ve got work to do!”Lucas said brightly,darting away.

Kun smiled,tucking his phone away in his pocket,glittering irises not leaving yours.

“I’ll call you.” He promised,and somewhere in you just knew he would.

And as you made your way out of the store,the keen sense in your being told you that something very special was about to begin.

Good things truly do come to those who wait,after all.

[anemonenemerosa]

The Spare - Chapter 7

Hello again,

here we go with the next chapter.

The fic is still inspired by the lovely @lumosinlove

TW for mentioned homophobia, past (and present?) abuse, mental health issues.

Chapter 7

Regulus quietly eased himself down on his bed, not making a noise, struggling to grasp what he just overheard. And it was a lot. His brother was, erm... dating the person he called after dinner. The voice on the phone was somewhat unintelligible but clearly male... named Remus. Sirius is dating a man. He was gay... playing in the NHL. Holy shit.'

After a moment of comprehension, Regulus pushed the newly found insights in his brothers’ sex-life aside. There was so much more. Sirius did not just go and found himself a new family six years ago. He felt as abandoned by his family as Regulus felt by Sirius. He feared their parents. Was the brave attitude Sirius would show Regulus just to keep him calm and happy, to protect his little brother? The beatings didn't end when Sirius was fifteen, as Regulus was always made to believe and he was going through therapy because of the psychological damage it caused. All the time Sirius told him he did not understand, Regulus drove him further away but his brother was right all along. Regulus did not understand, and he could kick himself for not getting this earlier.

But Sirius left Regulus there instead of explaining to him what he did not understand.

“I wouldn’t trade places with him though. I wouldn’t give up the Lions for anything.” His brother had said. Regulus wouldn't want to trade places with himself either.

This made clear that Sirius had no idea how Regulus' life went and how leaving him alone did not ease the pressure off of him. On the contrary. Do other families actually talk about such things? Probably, but we did not talk and now the damage is done.

Then, another aspect of the conversation demanded attention. Sirius had found someone. A team, some kind of family he actually wanted to spend time with and not just showed up out of sense of duty. And this Remus, who seemed to deeply care about him. Him, not his career, not his status. That man might even love him.

Regulus felt his eyes burn. He hadn't cried in years but the bare idea that relationships existed where people cared for each other like that, without expectations, showing support and giving comfort, left him longing. He remembered the feeling of being cared for by Sirius when he was young and realised that he was secretly craving it. Envy mingled with the burning the remorse of all he ever did to his brother while tears ran down his face.

                                   ............................................

The next day went by in a blur. Regulus was confused and hurting. His carefully maintained walls broke down yesterday and he was struggling to get them up again. He still couldn't look into his brothers’ eyes, he was off kilter and felt too exposed. But he knew he needed to get a grip, needed to talk to his brother before he left the next morning.

Regulus wandered around again at night but not in the house. He couldn’t walk past Sirius room again before he was ready. Instead, he put his running shoes on, climbed out of his window and started off along his favourite path. He'd run it so often, it didn't even make a difference that is was dark. He put Sirius' sexuality on the back burner, deciding that it was more important to get a concept of how he felt about his brother after all the input from last night. Letting the call replay in his head, Regulus tried to make a note of the feelings that surged through him. It hurt horribly but he pushed through and began to classify his emotions halfway through his second laps.

He felt sorry for his brother. Sirius was abused, felt just as abandoned as Regulus, stood under enormous pressure from the media already and oh, he was a closeted gay NHL-Captain dating his teams' -almost professional NHL-player- PT. The name Remus stroked something in Regulus' memory and he had looked him up earlier that day. Somewhat typically Sirius: Never one to do things by halves. But back to the feelings-endeavour.

There was shame, quite a lot. Regulus was being big-headed, naive and too eager to please his parents, the Snakes, too eager to escape Sirius' success pressing down on him until he couldn't breathe. He had let himself get blinded.

Despite the re-evaluation of their last years, Regulus still felt abandoned by his big brother and unbearably hurt. Although he began to fathom why Sirius put so much distance between himself and the family, he promised Regulus to always be his brother, to be there for him. And then, he wasn't. This wasn't all Sirius' fault of course, there were so many layers to their relationship that his head spun and he didn't even know everything that happened to his brother.

Regulus took a short break from running and feelings before he began his fifth laps, wishing he had thought of water.

Envy was the next feeling on the list. It was a not a knew occurrence but while it usually focused on his brother’s career, he now envied Sirius for something completely different. For having friends as close as a family, a team that supported him and seemed to genuinely like him as a person. Jealousy threw itself into the mix with a pang. All these people were in company of the Sirius' happy and caring side. The side that once was reserved for Regulus only. But maybe, it was possible to deeply care for several people. That Sirius finding real friends didn't mean he had nothing left for his baby brother. But Regulus drove him away and lost his claim. As quick as the jealousy came, it was overshadowed by longing for true affection and loss of how close he once was to his brother.

Remus. The name sprang up in Regulus' mind. Sirius hadn't just found a home, he found love. Something, Regulus grew more and more aware that he himself was undeserving of such strong affection. Any affection honestly. After all he had done, no one could possibly like him. The realisation just increased the longing and gave it a painful twinge.

 As if it wasn’t bad enough already.

Regulus gave up running after the fifth laps and settled on lying on a park bench in the middle of nowhere instead, like a proper creep.

Maybe I could do with a bit of therapy too, at the very least to sort through this mess, he thought dryly.

Then, there was the sexuality part. His brother was gay. This thought should have evoked repulsion in him but it didn’t. He briefly considered the common slurs and dirty jokes in the locker-room and on ice. Regulus was not sure how much of it was supposed to be harmless chirping but without doubt, it would become ammunition of certain players, if they knew it was actually true. And his parents made decidedly no effort to sugar-coat their opinions.

                                 ......................................................

"Sports is stooping lower and lower these days!" Regulus remembered his father’s agitation during the Olympic winter-games in Sochi.

Tim Stevenson, a Vancouver City Councillor, urged the International Olympics Committee to add "sexual orientation" to the Olympic Charter. The politician was openly-gay and married to Gary Paterson, the equally openly-gay moderator of the United Church of Canada.

"They shouldn't have allowed that in the first place" Orion hissed while succumbing into a rare fit of rage.

Regulus, of course, couldn’t remember the marriage in 2004 but his parents would never fail to show their distaste and indignation.

                                   .................................................

Regulus had always believed blindly what his parents told him, once out of naivety, later out of self-preservation. A mode of action he began to question deeply by now. The blind trust towards his parents was crumbling quickly, and Regulus felt himself uncertain of what to do now that his moral concepts and alleged knowledge were dissolving at an alarming rate. But as many tumultuous hard feelings as he allowed himself against Sirius for abandoning him and escaping, he did not think that being gay changed something about his brother...

Wasn't sexuality something you can’t help? That has always been like this? Then, hadn't he always been gay and knowing about it did not make him a different person. But Regulus hardly doubted that most of the NHL shared this train of thought, let alone their parents.

This can ruin Sirius' career... but isn't hockey supposed to be about the game and the game only? His mantra came back from the dead.

Why should it be of any importance for his game where he put his dick, or let other people stick their dick, for that matter? Regulus shuddered at the thought that his brother had a sex-life but he found himself not cringing at the idea of Sirius liking men. It was more the fact that he had sex in general. He denied that brothers, just like parents did this at all. Being the living proof that his parents had definitely had sex, was irrelevant.

Regulus decided to keep his brothers secret. He would not hurt him any more than he already had.

Coming home, around three in the morning, tired but much more at ease he found himself able to really sleep for the first time in what felt like years. Come next morning, he would grow a pair of metaphorical balls (he already had actual ones, thank you very much) to tell Sirius about the Interview and apologise. He would not talk about his brother’s sexuality, didn't want to intrude. It was not Regulus' business after all.

Regulus never overslept but this very day, he did. When he woke up, his brother was already gone. Thats that. I hope you liked it :)

Stay safe and channel your inner Hufflepuff

[gaiapaia]

Kermit and Friends: Lizzie with Flesh-n-Bone and Onision

Fun fact about Gaia Paia: I grew up a fan of hip-hop music as far back as I can remember. It started innocently enough at 5 or 6-years-old when MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice were at the top of the charts. Fast forward a few years later, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony would release Crossroads and I was hooked from that point forward. My mom let me get the single on cassette since there were no curse words and the song was about Heaven... I played that thing non-stop.

So when Elisa told me Flesh-N-Bone from Bone Thugs-N-Harmony would be a guest this week, I was pretty excited!

Flesh did not disappoint. He was open and candor about his feelings regarding the current political environment in America. More importantly, Flesh shared about his past troubles with the law and how he lost 10 years of his life to prison due to a false conviction. Despite that and his very rough childhood, Flesh remains a big positive ball of energy just looking to improve the World in the way he personally believes it should be improved. He was very inspiring, honestly.

Flesh has a beautiful recent single/music video out called Dedication, which you can check out for yourself by clicking this sentence. It’s very Crossroads like, so any fan of that song should love this one.

Flesh was absolutely tremendous and it’s awesome to see him become one of Kermit’s new friends. I have a good feeling we’ll be seeing him back on the show very soon. Maybe we can get him to perform a live rendition of Dedication! 

Lizzie Harding also joined Kermit and Friends this week. She was featured on Andy Dick’s first KAF appearance back in January (you can read about that here) but it was Elisa’s intention with this episode to allow Lizzie to get into more detail about Lizzie’s unbelievable story.

Lizzie’s story includes her being falsely arrested multiple times, being held in solitary confinement for 5 days despite never once seeing a day in court, having her kids kidnapped from her, her husband allegedly being a pedophile while her kids remain with him, her rental house being burned down this past week after appearing on Infowars, and having all her money stolen by her husband.

If this sounds like an absolutely crazy story.... it is. Most of the chat didn’t believe Lizzie’s tales but I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt because A) she was so sincere and passionate, and B) her husband is an extremely successful, high profile lawyer in the state of New York. If anyone can get away with truly heinous crimes, it’s people in his powerful position.

However, after dealing with Lizzie first hand... I’m starting to believe she creates delusions about her situation. Don’t get me wrong, Lizzie genuinely believes what she’s saying, but that doesn’t necessarily make it true (if it is all true, I would feel horrible about saying this stuff... this is why #BelieveAllWomen is a thing).

A good while after Lizzie’s interview, Elisa would play an Eric masturbation video as she’s been doing every week. Lizzie flipped her lid and started texting Elisa in a very harsh manner, saying we promised Lizzie that there would be no sexuality on the show. That is 100% a false statement by Lizzie.

I talked to Lizzie after the show and told her had we knew something like that video would offend her, we would have put it off for a week. Lizzie told me to read our past messages to prove she warned us, so I did and there was nothing about that or anything close to it... yet, she still believes we had this conversation that we never had even though she cannot provide a screenshot of the things she claims we discussed.

Regardless of all that, I wish Lizzie well and hope she gets in a better place soon, both mentally and physically. She’s in a lot of pain right now and that’s always sad to see. Plus, Lizzie was an amazing guest before jumping off the rails, sharing her compelling story with unbridled passion. I doubt we see her on KAF again but she’s someone we will NEVER forget.

Onision made his return to Kermit and Friends this week as well if you can’t already tell from the title. He mainly ruffled Flesh and Lizzie’s feathers by questioning their stories and political opinions. Not to say Onision was disrespectful by any means... he was not, but they did not like his line of questioning, especially Lizzie. However, Onision was terrific because Elisa’s not the type to challenge and question someone on their beliefs or the stories they tell. I think there’s great potential in Onision bringing that kind riveting content to Kermit and Friends regularly if he chooses to become a mainstay like I hope he does.

Everything about this episode was a rollercoaster blast except for one part.

Elisa admitted that she checked herself into the hospital a few days ago. Apparently she had some serious chest contusions and was having trouble breathing. After not finding anything wrong internally, the doctors chalked it up as an anxiety attack after forcing Elisa to stay there for over 8 hours.

To give you a timeline of events... last week, Elisa finally had enough of Andy Dick after he moved in for a few hours and treated her like dog crap. Or did she? It wasn’t 24 hours after last week’s show when Elisa was tweeting “Hi” to Andy, trying to get his attention. It was about 24 hours after that when Elisa was on a date with Andy on his Instagram stories. Then about 48 hours later, Elisa is getting checked into the hospital thanks to the anxiety she claims Andy has brought into her life.

So what happened on that date and the days following? Unfortunately, we didn’t get any answers. Maybe we will next week. But I’m truly fed up with seeing Andy bring so much heartache to Elisa’s life.

Elisa wrote this very beautiful song and made a sweet video tribute to Andy and played it during the show. Why? Why does he deserve that? Maybe it’ll help give Elisa a sense of closure and she’ll be able to move on from him. Maybe not. If so though, then I’m all for it, but part of me doubts that’s the case.

Unfortunately, Elisa is not a fan of my take on Andy right now, which is that she needs to stop trying to help someone who doesn’t want to help himself and who doesn’t treat her kindly. Elisa needs to focus on HER mental health and HER personal hardships rather than burdening herself with Andy’s, which just piles on and on relentlessly until boom... you’re being checked into a hospital. It will only get worse if she keeps putting effort into this guy.

Andy’s lover Lucas called into the show to try to pawn off Andy to Elisa, doing his best to guilt trip Elisa into taking Andy back. To Elisa’s credit, she told Lucas no and it seemed like she meant it. However, last week it seemed like she meant it when Elisa said she was done with Andy, so who knows if she’s serious this time.

It’s very tough for me to watch Elisa destroy herself all because of this poisonous clown Andy Dick. I guess you could say I should take my own advice and stop trying to help someone if they’re not willing to help themselves. The difference is, I’ve loved and supported Elisa for 6 years. I’ve been there for her at times when I know for a fact no one else was there for her. Not because I want anything from Elisa, but just because I genuinely love this woman and I want to see a beautiful/wonderful soul like her be happy.

Elisa has known Andy for not even 6 months. She loves a version of him in her head that does NOT exist. She cannot turn Andy into the person she wants him to be, and the harder she tries, the more heartbreak and devastation it’s going to bring to her life. So I pray Elisa can find the strength to move on from him and any other person in her life that’s dragging her down.

Moving on... Johnny B did a great karaoke performance of What A Wonderful Word by Louis Armstrong, Laurie was back to do the KAF Wrap-Up Show even though she had no clue who Flesh-N-Bone is and didn’t want to look him up, Kermit made a new friend named Alex G, Sharmin Smith went on a passionate rant about COVID, and Hud Isaacson fell asleep during the show with his new girlfriend by his side.

Let me just reiterate that this was a classic episode. I really mean it. Flesh was awesome, Lizzie was mind-blowing, Onision was perfect, and the chat was the most active it’s been since the Spreecast days. I don’t like kissing the ass of chat because sometimes they think they’re more important than they actually are... but they deserve to have their asses kissed after yesterday’s show! Chat was absolutely on fire and that’s really all the validation you need to know that this Kermit and Friends episode was a very special one.

[rikumorimachisgirl]

So, I started writing this Mystic Messenger fic last year but lost the inspiration to continue. I finally finished it today, so I hope you like it.

Oh, and I commissioned this lovely artwork from @hydeine last year, too. I said I'd tag her when I finally post the fic. I suppose today's the day. Here we go...

Title: Strawberry Pancakes

Pairing: Jumin Han x OC (Iris)

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2,665

Author's notes: Some of the scenes were faithful to the game.

Disclaimer: I do not own Mystic Messenger, but I own the idea of this fanfic.

It started with pancakes. Those thick, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth fluffy stove-top cakes that both of them - apparently - were both fond of. 

The first time they talked about it got him into a spot of trouble. Over an utterly dull lunch date with his father and his latest conquest, amidst the rich ambiance of the Michelin star restaurant where only the who's who in society were spotted, Jumin Han chose to indulge in a little tête-à-tête of his own at the RFA chat room with her. 

Her. Iris  - RFA's accidental member, unofficial party organizer, everyone’s cheerleader, and about the only other person who resonates with him. Jumin quietly as he waited for her to respond to his last message. Over the last twenty minutes, they have gone from talking about Elizabeth the 3rd’s grooming habits to his favorite breakfast food.  

| ‘I like chocolate chip pancakes.’  He felt his lips stretch sideways as he read her message. It was strange, he thought, how he's been joining the chat room more often since she joined. In the two weeks that they've been chatting, he felt closer to her than he's ever been with anyone in his life. 

| ‘I figured you would.’ He typed and sent.

|’Huh?’

|’You seem like the type who'd indulge in something with high sugar content early in the morning.’

|’That was a lucky guess, Jumin.’

|’But I don't believe in luck.’

|’Oh, and I suppose you think you've got me all figured out already? If you're so smart, tell me what I’m thinking at the moment.’ He smirked at her cheeky response. 

| ‘Iris, I'd like to remind you that I’m a businessman, not a fortune teller. If you’d like me to infer based on our conversation though, I'd say you're thinking that I like buttermilk pancakes, to which the answer is no. I prefer strawberry pancakes.’

Silence. 

| ‘Am I really that predictable?’ Her message finally came in two minutes later. He chuckled. In his mind, he imagined she probably would’ve pouted as she replied. 

“You seem rather amused, son. Did something happen?”

The sound of his father's voice snapped him out of his daydream. The young executive silently cursed himself for carelessly dropping his guard. Clearing his throat, Jumin straightened up and ran a hand through his dark locks. 

“My apologies, father. I had urgent business to take care of.” He tucked his phone in his pocket while wishing that Iris would understand why he hadn't gotten back to her. 

“Judging by your smile, I take it that business is going well?”

It took all of his willpower not to roll his eyes at his father's new girlfriend. Glam Choi was it? And what was it that she did? Judging by how she managed to turn heads, he deduced she must be some kind of celebrity. Nothing special, he thought; after all, his father, the Chairman of the Board of C & R International, seemed to have dated them all - socialites, celebrities, models, beauty queens - some of whom were even a year or two his junior. 

“Jumin? Are you all right, son?”

He silently cursed himself once more. While he was silently judging his father’s new girlfriend, he had once again dropped his guard and gave the older man the opportunity to call him out. 

“My apologies.”

“That's twice you've apologized. My, what an interesting day it is indeed, ” the stately older man said curtly. “Is our company not to your liking, son? Please just bear with us for a few minutes more. After all, your assistant told me that you won't have an appointment in the next hour or so.”

Jumin took a deep breath and sighed. If he had only known his old man’s agenda was to introduce his new girlfriend, he would’ve begged off right away. God knows he’d much rather be eating pancakes with her now than having a full-course meal in this place. He shook the thought away for a moment. Now wasn't the time to dream of her. Fixing his grey eyes at his father and the young celebrity he decided to date, he feigned a smile. “Very well, father, you have my full attention until then.” 

OoOoO

The second time they talked about pancakes was more of an afterthought. It happened right after their first kiss. 

Their first kiss. The very thought of it still made his heart race. He remembered every little detail as if it were yesterday. He had Assistant Kang to thank for arranging everything for him. Thanks to his efficient employee’s quick thinking, he was able to meet Iris a week earlier than the rest of the RFA members, although if he had a chance to do it over, he wouldn't be as flustered as he was when he first laid eyes on her the night before.

He watched in awe as she stepped into the foyer. She was everything he’d imagined - slender and graceful, her brown hair cascaded down her back, and her dark brown eyes looked back at him with the same level of wonder. 

“Jumin, i-it's so nice to finally meet you.”

He swore he’d never felt his heart beat faster than it did at that exact moment. ‘Get a grip, ’ he scolded himself, as he schooled his emotions before it got the better of him. He must not lose his footing, after all, he was Jumin Han - businessman, philanthropist, future CEO.

“You’re beautiful.” The words slipped from his mouth quite naturally, and he immediately regretted it when he saw her cheeks turn several shades redder. 

“I’m sorry, ” he cleared his throat. “What I meant to say was that I hope you traveled safely. If I had known Assistant Kang was going to ask you over, I would’ve sent out my driver to pick you up.” 

And then she smiled, and he knew right away that he was going to do whatever it takes to keep her. 

“Who is this woman and what is she doing in your house?”

Jumin gazed at the shameless woman his father had been forcing him to marry and resisted the urge to throw her out of his penthouse himself. 

“Sarah, please don't be like that. I'm Jumin's friend -”

“And what kind of friend comes a man's house alone? By the looks of it, you probably stayed the night, too!”

If Iris was the least bit upset at the insults hurled at her, she did not let it show. Unfortunately, he was far from being gracious. 

“This is dragging on far longer than I expected. I'm actually quite surprised I hadn't thrown you out the door the minute you showed me that fake cat picture. My security will show you out.”

“What? No, you can't do that. I'm your fiancée,” Sarah cried out incredulously. 

“Oh, please,” he said haughtily. “If you think that we'd  gotten engaged just by exchanging a few words, you're clearly delusional.”

“So, you're choosing her over me?”

“I don't know why you're even asking,” the dashing Chief Director of C & R International said, as he turned his attention to the willowy brunette who stood quietly in the corner. Something about the way she looked at him urged him to come closer to her. With each step he took, the answer became clearer. He stopped in front of her and smiled. She was a good head shorter than him, and she looked adorable gazing up at him with those big brown eyes. 

“It wasn't like I had another choice to start with,” Jumin finally said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Iris,” he whispered, as he lifted her chin and closed the gap between them. He could've sworn he felt a shock wave run through his body the minute his lips touched hers. Suddenly, the sound of Sarah's protests faded, and all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat - or was it hers? He really couldn't tell - but every single one of his senses zeroed-in on the beautiful woman in his arms.

Her lips were the softest he’d ever kissed - not that he’s had lots of experience - as a rule, he only kissed women because he needed to close deals with them and the kisses they shared were always cold. This, however, was different. As his mouth moved over hers, again and again, all he could think about were two things - how her kisses taste like strawberry pancakes, and that he could never get enough of her. 

OoOoO

The third time they talked about pancakes was a memory guaranteed to make her blush almost immediately. He remembered vividly - Provence in July, a month after they'd gotten married. He promised to take her on an unforgettable honeymoon anywhere she wished. He thought she'd choose to go to Paris, Santorini, Milan, or even Ibiza, and he’d be happy to take her there; but instead, she chose to go to his newly-purchased winery so he could still oversee their daily operations while spending time with her and Elizabeth the 3rd. 

That's so like her. 

He woke up alone in bed one Sunday morning. Frustration marred his beautiful face as he ran his hand over her now-empty side of the bed, and found it still warm. She couldn't have been gone for long, he thought. And Elizabeth the 3rd, who usually enjoyed sleeping late, was not in the room as well. Still half-asleep, he forced one eye open to glance at the clock on her nightstand. 

‘Six-thirty, ’ he groaned silently, as he rolled on to his back. What exactly could his wife be up to this early? Sighing, he rolled out of bed and left the room in search of the beautiful woman who disappeared from his side before he even got to kiss her good morning. 

The house was quiet except for some movement coming from the kitchen. Raising an eyebrow, he quietly made his way to the large French country-style kitchen his wife loved so much and found himself entranced at the sight of the lovely brunette he now called wife, stirring something in the mixing bowl while their pet sat on the counter, looking curiously at her. 

"I hope I get this right, Elizabeth the third, " she told the cat softly. "Jumin's pancakes always taste good, so I hope he'll like these."

Her innocent declaration made him gasp. She was making pancakes for him. And that realization made him pick up his feet and head over to where she was at. 

"I see you both are up early."

"Jumin -, " she cried out in surprise, as she felt his arms wrap around her waist from behind. "Good morning, my love. I didn't expect you to be up so early."

"I could say the same about you, especially after we made love several times last night, " he responded, as he planted soft kisses on the side of her neck. Her cheeks turned red at the thought of their passionate night together, and he smiled, knowing how embarrassed she was. "You're blushing."

"I can't help it…, " she murmured. "And I think you've disappointed Elizabeth the third." 

He watched their pristine white cat jump off the counter and saunter out of the kitchen. "I think she's just giving us some privacy. Don't worry, she'll be fine, " the dashing young businessman said as he stopped kissing her, but kept her in an embrace. "So, tell me what you're up to." 

"I was going to make strawberry pancakes for you, " she started, her face still flushed. "But I'm not sure they're as good as the ones you make."

"Is that so?" He unwrapped his arms and moved closer to the counter where the mixing bowl was. "I suppose there's just one way to find out." 

She watched in silence as he dipped his long and slender finger into the bowl and scooped up a tad bit of better. Carefully, he brought his finger near her lips, while watching her gently. "Say ahhh…, " he said and laughed at how dutifully his wife complied. "Well?"

"It's sweet…"

Cocking his head to one side, he smiled at her wryly. "Is that so?"

"Why don't you taste for yourself?" 

His eyes twinkled with excitement, as she failed to realize how enticing her offer was. Cupping her face with his hands, he leaned forward and whispered, "I suppose I will, " before he ravished her mouth - and all of her body - over and over just like the night before. 

The pancake batter was left untouched until later that day. And as she had placed ointment on the scratches she had left on his back, he feasted on the strawberry pancakes she had made just for him. 

OoOoO

The fourth time they talked about pancakes was on Valentine's Day - the first of many they'll be spending together. He thought of many ways they could be celebrating this together and spent a lot of sleepless nights thinking of the perfect present for her. Never once did he think they'd be spending the day spooning her in bed, with one hand caressing her swollen belly. 

Thirty-eight weeks. She had been carrying their first child for nearly nine months, and despite her growing belly and her slight weight gain, she continued to look even more beautiful. 

"I really want pancakes, Jumin."

His hand stopped moving, and he raised an eyebrow at her upon hearing her request. "Darling, I asked you what you wanted for Valentine's…"

She snuggled closer to him as she felt his low voice vibrating on his chest. The gentle sound of his voice always soothed her and the baby, and she wanted to hear more of it today. "And I told you I want pancakes."

He frowned, feeling a little upset at her answer. In truth, she could have anything she wanted - jewelry, cars, all the designer items a woman could get her hands on - but all she wanted to for Valentine's was his home-cooked pancakes. "That's all you want?"

"That's all I want, " she hummed. A few seconds later, she felt the baby kick and the sensation made her giggle. "See? Even the baby wants pancakes."

"But the doctor said you should lay off sweets…" He should have known better than to speak those words because no sooner had he said them, she immediately turned to him with sad puppy eyes. He sighed. He knew at this point that he had lost to her once again - after all, he could never resist her - but he wanted to make her victory a little harder. "As I was saying, the doctor said…"

"But Jumin, I haven't had anything sweet since we found out I was pregnant, " she said, pouting. "And I'm really craving the strawberry pancakes you make."

"Will that make you happy?"

"Very much so."

Sighing again, he untangled himself from her and rolled out of bed. "All right. I suppose I can alter the recipe a little bit. You just lay there and rest, okay? I'll be back with your pancakes."

Elizabeth the third jumped from her bed and walked beside Jumin as he stepped out of the room. "How long do you think before she rolls out of bed and follows us?" He asked, glancing sideways at their precious feline as she mewled her response. "Ten minutes? That's too generous. She's been too fussy lately, but something tells me you're spot on, so we need to move fast."

And true to form, a very pregnant Mrs. Han waddled out of their room ten minutes later, enticed by the mouthwatering scent wafting from the kitchen. 

"Those smell heavenly, " she said excitedly, as she made her way beside her husband and stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Thank you, Jumin, " she whispered before she waddled towards the cozy little breakfast nook she had designed for them. 

He smiled, as he watched her walk away from him. She had no idea how happy she's made him, how lucky he was that she came into his life, and how thankful he was for all the many things that brought them closer together. Especially strawberry pancakes.  

The end. 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {2}

Summary: Ethan wakes up to a whole new set of challenges with his soulmate, but he had no idea just how deep the trouble she would get into would be. With a medieval infection in the hospital, Ethan only thinks of her.

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, swearing, medical descriptions of things some might find nauseating, infectious disease

Word count: 5.3k

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is! 

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

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Pistanthrophobia - fear of trusting others

Waking up alone is the last thing Ethan expected, but to wake up alone and nearly five hours later was definitely unbelievable. Not a single page? Not one of his interns fucked up so badly that they paged him thousands of times? Maybe he misjudged this generation after all?

"Nah", Ethan mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he pulled himself up to sit. Rubbing his cheeks, he tried to stop himself from smiling, to stop the warm feeling in his chest where she laid atop him but he couldn't. Even if she left before he had woke, Ethan was happy with their progress, although leaving him in bed alone seemed to have become her memo.

Dragging himself out to get a cup of coffee during this tireless double shift, Ethan wondered if she'd be waiting for him close by or if she was feeling better after losing her first patient, but he found himself disappointed when he couldn't find a single trace of her. His phone vibrated and even if he wanted anything but to pick up the call, the only person he knew was persistent enough to wait for the last ring was his brother and he always picked up Grayson's calls.

"What do you want?" Ethan grumbled, slipping a few coins into the vending machine for that cup of coffee he was dying for, not in the mood to speak but he thought it might be important.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine." Grayson chuckled, waiting to hear his brother groan or growl on the other line and he didn't have to wait for long.

"Just wondering if you misplaced something? Or someone?" Grayson teased as if he didn't know his brother isn't a morning person and he was definitely not in the mood for games.

"What are you talking about?" Ethan frowned, grabbing his cup eagerly as it fills up.

"Just heard one of your interns ask for a transfer and they told her no, but she seemed adamant that the cardio resident she's assigned to isn't right for her education here." Grayson licked his lips, aware he's pulling at the right strings because even if he never saw the elusive Y/N, he felt like her description matched the girl Ethan told him about a year ago, his instincts screamed it was her, and he was quite unhappy with his brother's lack of sharing for he would have expected at least a text from Ethan about his soulmate being his intern.

"What was her name? Did you hear that?" Ethan cleared his throat, pursing his lips nervously because he really fucking hoped the progress he thought he made wasn't just erased. Did he scare her off?

"Y/N Y/L/N. Your soulmate?" Grayson clarified and Ethan leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. He managed to fuck it up, he just didn't know how.

"Did she see you?" Ethan asked, gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip, annoyed with himself because it seems as if every step he takes toward her, she takes two back.

"Nope, but I did tell the nurse I'll take your interns over for the day. They should see the miracle of life before they see death. Thank me later." Ending the conversation, Grayson moved to meet the interns at the changing rooms, eager to meet the little Miss who drove his brother up the wall. In a way, Grayson was fascinated by this woman who seems to disappear like a ghost every time Ethan was near and he didn't understand why she was fighting this unmovable force of nature.

"So, uh, I heard you killed a guy on your first day." Cocky intern leaned into Y/N who was just trying to tie her shoes and get on with the day. Escaping Ethan's arms wasn't easy, especially when he seems to have a death grip in his sleep. But she had to go, to leave and find a way to switch mentors before she fell for him, the guy who clearly wasn't falling for her.

"I'm Brett and I like girls who get their hands dirty." His cheshire grin made her sick to her stomach because as attractive as he is with his pale blue eyes and blonde hair, she had absolutely nothing but disgust for him.

"Leave her alone, asshole. She doesn't care who you are." The only other female intern spoke up and Y/N chuckled lowly, nodding in agreement.

"I'm Alex." The blonde settled beside her, shooing Brett away with her hand until he rolled his eyes and left to get dressed.

"Y/N. Thanks for getting rid of the fleas." Y/N leaned back on the wall as Alex laughed and Brett turned back just to make an annoyed grimace at the two.

"So, how was the boss yesterday? Was it easy working with a hot genius like him? Did you have sex in the on call room?" Alex whisper shouted in excitement and Y/N's face fell, realizing Alex won't be the friend she hoped she would be a moment ago. She just wanted gossip.

"He's a talented surgeon and a good teacher. As for the rest, this isn't Grey's anatomy, on call rooms are for rest not sex." But before she has a chance to get up, someone walks in - authoritative and eager; way too eager with his pink scrubs.

"Good morning. My name is Grayson Dolan and I am to be your boss man for the day." The moment Y/N looked at him, her heart stopped. There are too many similarities between Grayson and Ethan and she was realizing one irrefutable fact.

"There's two of you?!" The words escaped her and she slapped a hand over her mouth as quickly as possible, just not fast enough to stop herself from becoming an embarrassment.

The left corner of Grayson's lips curled up, forming a smirk as he turned his attention to Y/N, taking a good look of what destiny had chosen for his twin and he knew she was trouble even without Ethan's complaints about his torn up heart. She looked like she was made for heartbreak but also the loveliest nights.

"My brother and I may wear the same face but there are very few similarities between us which I'm sure you will learn in time." Grayson winked, before turning his eyes to the rest of the room. "You all will. After all, we will be seeing each other weekly from now on. One of you will be mine for a week until you have your OBGYN hours filled."

Swallowing thickly, Y/N looked away nervously as she fidgeted with her stethoscope. She felt warm, as if her body forgot to regulate her temperature and she could hardly breathe.

'Did it get hot in here? Or is this guy's sunshine personality setting every room aflame?' She wondered silently, thinking how as awkward as it was around Ethan, at least he didn't force conversations and he didn't seem like the overly curious type that pries into people's lives as Grayson does. He looks like the kind of a person people go to in order to feel better, for his warmth and cheerfulness to transfer onto them - he was the definition of sunshine, a cure for dark and depressing people and Y/N was certainly one of them. But she didn't want a cure and she didn't want him to meddle. For the first time ever, Y/N wanted to spend time with Ethan, in the comfort he gave because he didn't force happy onto her and she felt safe in feeling what she feels, knowing she didn't have to adjust, to change. It was the first time she hoped for Ethan, but it wouldn't be the last time.

And lucky for her, he showed up right on time, just as she started losing her shit.

Fingers snapped in front of her face and Y/N gasped, blinking fast as her eyes refocused on identical twins that stood before her. "Hey! Are you listening to any of this?" Grayson questioned with a slight smile, genuinely entertained by her and her dreamer personality because he was sure it would both annoy and compliment Ethan's personality. Ethan is a dreamer too, but never at work and that would surely be a challenge for the pair.

"Um. Missed the few last minutes. Probably should get a cup of coffee." She raised her eyebrows, trying to seem convincing because she didn't want to be unprofessional but she also didn't want to piss off two of her teachers.

"Well, let me sum it up. You're in the pit today, page me if you find any pregnant women in need of a consult or any cardio patients. That's when you -" Stopping him mid-sentence, Ethan jumped in. "That's when you page me."

With a nod, Y/N pressed her lips together and pushed her hands into the front pockets of her lab coat, hoping they would just stop staring at her so intently, as if they're expecting something of her and she can't understand what that is.

"Got it."

She rushed out of there faster than humanly possible, needing room to breathe because for whatever reason, the Dolan twins made it impossible to draw in a proper breath during that short interaction.

Expecting insanity in the ER, she had managed to eat a granola bar before heading into a rather calm emergency room. Using the chance, she introduced herself to the staff, learned the proper numbering of beds and trauma rooms and a few hours in, she finally got a proper case.

"I'm doctor Y/L/N." She smiled, gathering information from the patient while doing a checkup.

"So you're an exterminator?" She kept her voice airy, her tone pleasant as she noted the man has a fewer, complains of chills, muscle aches, diarrhea, cough and fatigue.

'Likely the flu', she presumed.

"For the last thirty years. Used to be a banker, a painter and a writer in my three hundred years." Hearing that sparked jealousy in her heart. She shouldn't be jealous about other people managing to do all they wanted to in their long lives, but she was. She had plans of her own and they seem unlikely with her current soulmate situation.

"Sounds like quite an adventurous life." She smiled, checking for swollen lymph nodes. Finding quite swollen, tender but firm lymph nodes, Y/N frowned, cold sweat forming at the back of her neck as the man coughed. Managing to turn her head to the side, she grasped for a facemask and placed it for protection as she prayed. Caution is always better than reckless endangerment.

'Surely it can't be...'

"Is everything alright?" The man questioned, startled by the sudden change in her stance and the odd look in her eye.

"Can you please take your socks off?" She asked, hoping it won't be what she thinks it is because that would be just her luck.

However, the moment this man took his socks off, he took a few fingers off in the process and no matter how many times she had read about gangrene, she still wasn't prepared to see it up close and personal. The foul smell of rotting flesh made her stomach turn and she struggled to keep her composure. You're supposed to be calm and collected but they don't really prepare you for this in med school.

"Oh, God!" She exclaimed, looking around wildly to figure out what to do.

"Stay calm, sir!" She told him but she seemed more upset than he did. As if he knew it was in such a state, as if he had come in for the gangrene in the first place - the 'by the way' syndrome at its best.

With shaky hands, mask in place, she stumbled to the nurse's station and lowered her voice, careful not to touch anything or anyone.

"I have strong suspicion that we have a case of the Black Death...the pulmonary type, and I've been exposed. Make sure all the patients are isolated just in case and then make sure so am I. I'll take samples for the lab, send them as emergent testing, I'll write a CITO order. And disinfect every inch of this floor." Y/N ordered, her voice shaky as she set herself back to see the patient again, preparing to take samples to confirm her diagnosis. She hoped to God she managed to get that mask on in time, swearing under her breath for being reckless and assuming it's the flu and that she'd be fine. She finally got her immune system up, she finally got her vaccines and she got cocky, thinking she's untouchable and now while everyone else is delivering babies or having once in a lifetime surgeries, she'll be in isolation because she got a patient with a medieval diagnosis. Just her luck.

And while Y/N was being quarantined along with the three patients who had the misfortune of being in at the same time and one nurse that admitted the patient, the entire ER closing for disinfection, Ethan and Grayson were drinking coffee in peace.

"She's definitely a piece of work." Grayson chuckled lowly, raising the cup to his lips casually as if Ethan wasn't snorting at his statement, aware of that fact even without his brother pointing it out.

"Young too. She's a baby surgeon, Ethan." Grayson deadpanned, taking a sip before putting his cup down. Curling his fingers around the cup, he scrunched the plastic cup easily, something he did with every plastic cup he drank from.

"Is there a reason why you're stating all known facts?" Ethan sassed back, sarcastic undertones very clear and matching his annoyed face. While Grayson sat back relaxed, Ethan tapped his fingers on the desk continuously, telling just how difficult Ethan finds the situation at hand. He wanted to know this girl so badly but she didn't seem to share that want. How do you love someone who doesn’t want to be loved?

"Yeah. I'm tryna’ help you bro. She's young, meaning she didn't have a hundred years like you to do her thing first. She didn't have time to be her before being your soulmate. Besides, did you even tell her you're her soulmate? Does she even know it's you? Because if you're not ready to risk your pride and heart for her, why are you expecting it from her?" Grayson raised an eyebrow, waiting for Ethan to open his mouth and say something right, something that would lead him on the path toward her and just as his lips part and the lost look in his eyes fades, Alex, the intern he barely remembered by anything except her being the only other woman with a fancy stethoscope, walked in with news he never wanted to hear.

"Y/N, I mean one of your interns is in quarantine!" She screamed more than spoke, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

"What the fuck do you mean by quarantine?!" Ethan jumped to his feet in an instant, feeling as if a bucket of ice cold water fell on his head and he had never been as wide awake as he is now.

"It's the black death."

Autophobia - fear of being alone

Loneliness had never bothered her before. Accustomed to the lone wolf kind of a life, Y/N had started questioning the unsettling feeling in her chest. After all the time she had spent on her own, she was scared by the coldness inside her that lived within ever since she snuck out of Grant’s apartment where she had left her underwear along with her virginity. That feeling of coldness was gone since he had appeared in her life again and now when she found herself isolated, alone again, she felt the cold grasp at her insides once more and for the first time in her life, Y/N wasn’t prepared to be alone again.

“Hey there. Feeling good?” She didn’t meant to smile when she heard the sound of his voice nor did she mean to let her eyes light up with the sight of his pretty brown eyes on the other side of the glass. She hadn’t expected her heart to jump inside her chest nor did she expect her cheeks to flush considering she’s wearing just a hospital gown and while she managed to hide her ass, she still felt exposed, indecent.

“Yeah. Already started myself on antibiotics before the CDC came in.” She shrugged slightly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she approached the glass slowly, wondering if he’d be proud of her for managing to handle the situation so well. Or as well as it was possible in the moment. She didn’t expect Ethan to be anything but.

“Great!” He exclaimed with a smile that quickly turned sour and her own smile fell, the light in her eyes fading as he started yelling. “NOW I GET TO SCREAM AT YOU FOR BEING SO RECKLESS!”

Pacing left and right, he managed to keep his eyes on her, his hands shaking as he questioned her.

“I’m not sure what the hell you were thinking going to talk to a patient with a flu without a mask or why you were even seeing a flu patient when you’re a surgical intern! Now I’m down an intern and when we said some of you won’t make it till the end of the training, we didn’t mean you should go and recklessly handle patients until you catch a deadly infectious disease!” Throat hoarse, aware of the wandering nurses’ eyes that held judgement and the slightest bit of entertainment, Ethan stopped to take a deep breath and at least try to stop the never ending pounding of his heart and maybe it’s wrong of him to yell at her when she’s in a stressful situation of her own, but she is his soulmate and he barely had the chance to love her and he is scared to death he never will. So yes, he is angry and he is struggling to understand her and the dustiest parts of her soul but it’s beyond him. She’s beyond everything and everyone he has ever met.

“Reckless?” She snorted, folding her arms across her chest, shifting her weight onto her left foot before she too had something to say and while she wasn’t necessarily shouting, she wasn’t quiet either.

“I had my flu shot so I though approaching the flu patient without a mask might be less frightening for the poor man. Also, there was no one else in the ER to see the patient but me! Was I supposed to prolong his suffering when I’m perfectly capable of doing a physical myself? I did what any doctor would and more considering I made a rather remarkably rare diagnosis so quickly that I prevented that man from getting the rest of the hospital staff exposed! You should be proud of me, not pissed off!” Eyebrows knitted together, her eyes narrowed at him and lips pressed together, Y/N stood her ground, refusing to apologize for what she did because she didn’t think she made a mistake. Sure, the mask was a miss, but she would learn from her mistakes…if she gets the chance.

“You page me if she gets symptoms!” Ethan didn’t even spare Y/N a glance as he ordered the nurse and left her alone in that glass room that felt like a prison. He just stormed out, like a man with a paper sword that couldn’t handle losing an argument. For a girl who was all too used to hospitals, she wasn’t quite prepared to go through yet another period of time in a hospital bed.

“Do you need anything else, sweetie”, the nurse asked her, handing her a thoroughly cleaned stuffed animal to hold, her favorite one. A girl of mere ten years facing such a monstrous disease that grew within? It made the nurses cry after every shift. All the kids in the department did, as rare as it was.

“Are my parents coming?” Y/N asked quietly, her voice hoarse. Anyone’s voice would be hoarse after throwing up for five days straight, unable to keep anything down.

“I’m sorry baby, not this week.” The look of pity on the nurse’s face was what Y/N hated the most. She hated being treated like a baby, like a delicate little porcelain doll that couldn’t handle the world. She had faced more in her short life than those who chased immortality. She was very aware of the toxic relationship her parents shared and how they prioritized each other over her. She had learned to accept that.

“That’s fine. At least I have Mr. Cuddles.”

Y/N wished she had Mr. Cuddles now, to just have something or someone to hold. She wished she could relieve the sadness and the annoying sense of abandonment Ethan’s abrupt leaving left her with. She wanted him to stay a while longer for he made her feel lighter without even trying and she hated him for being an ass to her and even more so when he didn’t visit her for the next two days.

Thantophobia – phobia of losing someone you love

However, she didn’t know he was there whenever she was asleep, watching her with a worrisome heart and a tired mind. He knew she was a little troublesome, but he didn’t know she would make that tiny streak of silver hair turn into a full set of grey hair. It’s what he’d be facing in less than a year if her behavior continues as it is.

What he didn’t expect is for her to open her eyes in the middle of the night, finding him on a chair with his head resting on his numb propped up hand. She rolled her eyes at him instantly, pushing herself up with some difficulty before detaching her own IV.

“Scared I’ll die?” She asked groggily, taking a sip of her water to soothe her dry throat. She was definitely starting to feel ill, hating how her body turned weaker and weaker as it did when she was on her treatments. She didn’t want to go back to being the poor girl who sat alone in her room with no family to see her. Making friends with other patients was easy, but they could never touch, never risk getting each other sick. They were social distancing by sitting on opposite beds or coming to each other’s rooms and sitting on a chair by the door when one was too sick to get out of bed. But she didn’t have any patients to make friends with now.

“Yeah. But not from the plague.” Ethan huffed, swallowing before speaking. “Your tests are still being done, will probably be negative but you do have strep, so we’ll have to treat that unless you want to be on my table in about thirty years with faulty heart valves.” Standing, Ethan nodded to the penicillin she had inside her room, hinting it’s better she takes it on her own, although he didn’t mind getting into a hazmat suit if it meant seeing her ass again.

“Great. So if I do have it, I’ll be dealing with two diseases at once. Nice. Nice luck I got here.” Sarcasm dripping with every word she formed, Y/N grabbed the prepared medicine and groaned. She hated getting shots, even more so penicillin ones because they always hurt like a bitch. However, she had a fairly high pain tolerance after everything she’s been through. The nurses used to say when she complained of pain, they immediately called doctors to check up on her because her six was usually a ten on other kids’ pain scale.

Palping, she found the site she’s supposed to stick a needle in. Closing her eyes as she shakes her head, Y/N let out a dry chuckle at the ridiculous situation but she was ready to do it anyway. She didn’t care about Ethan being there, he couldn’t see her ass from where she was standing, but he could see her face. So, she took great care not to make a face when the needle pierced her skin nor when the penicillin started burning, her entire leg feeling like it would give out. Slowly, she injected the medicine, breathing a little shallow but she was proud of herself for remaining calm and collected, even with Ethan there.

“Wow. Actually did it. Impressive, rookie.” Ethan teased, his arms crossed and his face smug. Y/N didn’t like that. “I was sure you’d tap out in the last second. I’m actually surprised you weren’t late giving yourself the medicine like you were on your first day!”

But she wasn’t in the mood for jokes and he missed that.

“Un-fucking-believable! Now?! You want to keep taunting me now? I have no words!” She screamed at him, her hands up in the air in frustration as her nostrils flare and her eyes widen with a new thought. “Oh! Wait! I’m thinking of some! Jerk! Ass! Arrogant! Man-child!” Her throat felt raw and her face hot, but she was ready to fight even if her legs did shake in his presence…or was it her rage? Maybe the infection? She couldn’t tell anymore, especially when he raised his index finger and his face was overtaken with a wide smile and a chuckle followed soon.

“Hold up! Man-child?”

“YES! A fucking man-child!” She repeated herself and that’s when his smile faded and he remembered he’s supposed to be her mentor and this is supposed to be his hospital. Soulmate or not, he couldn’t tolerate this behavior.

“I’d caution you to watch what you say to your boss. You better shut your mouth if the next words coming from you don’t include an apology.” Ethan warned, his hands folded before him and he was no longer Grant as she saw him as most of the time. This was doctor Ethan Dolan, the man she was sure would make her life miserable and while she wanted to keep yelling at him, she couldn’t.

It wasn’t because she had a moment of clarity or because she thought kissing his ass would get her somewhere, figuratively not literally as she had already done that and she knew he had a pineapple on it. No, she felt something different, something she read about but never saw let alone felt. Her throat started closing up and her lungs burned for oxygen she couldn’t provide no matter how hard she tried.

Holding her throat, her eyes wide and bulging, Y/N fell to her knees, unable to hear Ethan who screamed for the nurses from the ringing in her ears that made her deaf to the world. Her face swelled up, her eyes closing and she could no longer see or hear, only feel and she felt herself slipping, falling to the ground, desperately heaving for some air.

Ethan couldn’t wait, couldn’t follow protocol and get himself in a hazmat suit before panic opening the room with his key-card, grabbing the emergency kit as he entered, collapsing on his knees beside her, an adrenaline shot in hand. Administering the adrenaline, bronchodilators, corticosteroids, antihistamines and an oxygen mask, Ethan finally felt like there might be hope as the swelling started to go down and he could hear her breathe again. He had her back on the bed, second line of medication set to drip in her IV.

Shaking uncontrollably, he had stared at every movement her chest made and listened intently to every intake of breath she had made, terrified his worst fear might still come true and he might lose her, rendering him alone for the rest of his life. Sure, Grayson would be insulted with these thoughts of his, but having a soulmate as you age is what life is supposed to be about, not a twin who’d make remarks about every line he gets on his face or how saggy his balls must be getting. She was what his whole life has come down to and hundred more years couldn’t counter the happiness he got to experience in a single night with her. That would never change.

Hours passed and he finally relaxed, not enough to sleep but enough to sit down and breathe.

Exhaling loudly, Ethan looked around for a chair or something to brave the night in, aware he’s now stuck in the room with her for as long as it takes for the tests of her swabs return which would likely take a few more hours at this point. He didn’t regret his actions and he understood why she defended her own so fiercely earlier. It was funny how he understood her soon after every fight they have and they had quite a few squabbles in this double shift – the first of many. She has a breathtaking, wildfire heart and he absolutely loved her for it. He had infinite tenderness for her. He always will. As long as he lives.

“If you get the plague and die, I will kill you.” Grayson threatened from the other side of the glass, his own fear of losing Ethan showing in his deep brown orbs, even more so in the frown he couldn’t hide. And Grayson Dolan was many things, but not a man who frowns easily.

“You can’t make me feel guilty over something I don’t regret.” Ethan shrugged, pressing his lips together before closing the distance between them. The glass stood as a barrier, one that would keep Grayson safe in case Ethan does catch a deadly illness but he had faith it would turn out to be nothing.

“I know. I’d have done the same.” Grayson shrugs sadly, a small smile gracing his lips as he looks over Ethan’s shoulder to see Y/N. “How is she?” He too cared for the girl, too quickly but he did. He saw her as a sister, someone to protect. He saw her as an extension of his brother’s soul.

“Good for now. The allergic reaction stopped but we have her on some meds to make sure it doesn’t enter into the late stage. As for her strep infection, I’ve got her on other meds that won’t kill her so that should be fine too. I expect her to be fully capable of chewing me out in the morning.” Ethan chuckled lowly, turning around to make sure she’s still asleep and while he had no intention on telling her about them just yet, he couldn’t stay away from her. Not ever.

“Why? Did you tell her you’re her soulmate?” Grayson clasped his hands in excitement and he reminded Ethan more of a high school cheerleader than doctor with more than a hundred years of experience under his belt. He loved how positive Grayson is, but he needed to keep his voice down when he’s spilling state secrets, especially when the subject at hand is only a few meters away.

“SHHH!” Ethan whisper-shouted, wishing he was on the other side of the glass to smack his brother over the head and teach him a lesson.

“She doesn’t know and I don’t plan on telling her. She’ll figure it out herself and until then, I want her to know me without the pressure of having a soulmate bond. Bro, I just want her to see we’re made for one another and not run from me every chance she gets.” Ethan rubbed his forehead in frustration, glancing over his shoulder at her stirring figure, unaware she managed to catch a few words the two have spoken about her and while she may be under the influence of more than one drug at the moment, she knew it was important to remember that Ethan and Grayson have both muttered the words she feared most of all – soulmate.

However, moments later for her, minutes for Ethan, she felt a knuckle against her cheek, gently dragging along her skin before the warmth of touch disappeared and she decided she wanted it to last longer, her hand moving on instinct, grasping Ethan’s.

Smiling in the darkness, Ethan settled beside her in a chair, his hand holding hers for dear life.

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Tags: @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @ethanhes @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12 @fxkthatdairy @zeusgrayson @libradolan @justordinaryjen @pineappledolan @graysavant @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan

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