#life has been insane and it’ll be a lot. but it’s fine.

[treecakes]

one of my friends messaged me like a week ago but genuinely i keep forgetting to message her back and every time i remember i’m exhausted and don’t have the energy for the conversation i know will ensue 😭 i love my friend she is awesome but this will likely be a long conversation because there’s so much to catch up on and a lot to talk abt. and i’m both excited to talk to her but also filled with dread because there’s things to talk abt that i also don’t really want to talk abt and i know she’ll ask and that i’ll have to explain. and it’s complicated. but she’s my oldest friend at this point and i want to talk to her.

[shawnxstyles]

free session

DATE: AUGUST 8, 2023

summary: tom hurts himself a little at the gym, but luckily, you’re there to reassure him that everything’s fine. when he finally comes back, you decide to show him what a free session is all about.

request: yup!!

words: 7k

warnings: SMUT (slight praise kink, protected sex, dirty talking), language. this was a quick one

note: okay so i don’t do threesomes lmao, but i didn’t state that until after i got this request (this request is 8 months old i’m sorry). i chose to do tom, but i changed a lot, so i’m sorry if this isn’t even what you asked for at all… i hope someone likes it | NOT EDITED

gym!tom x trainer!reader

—

Tom had a steady routine; he went to the gym in the morning, ate, did his day plans or work, ate again, and then went to the gym at night again. Some people thought he was insane for going to the gym so much, but it felt like his second home. Mainly because the gym was his brother’s, Harry.

Harry and Tom were unbelievably close; out of all their siblings, they were definitely the tightest. Tom assisted Harry with renting, paperwork, and anything he needed for his little business, which wasn’t so little anymore. Once he got popular in town, Tom let his brother handle himself after all his constant nagging. Then Tom was off doing his own thing, worrying about his own life and job. It got consistent, tedious, and boring to say the least.

But on a random summer day when Harry called Tom to deliver the bad news, Tom regrets ever thinking that his simple routine was boring.

“Tom, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to find a new gym.”

“What? Harry, what are you talking about?” Tom drops his gym bag on the floor of his apartment, stopping short with Harry’s words. He presses the phone up to his ear, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip.

“I didn’t tell you before, but all my “loyal” customers have fled to the new fitness center down the street. You know, the one by the café?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s only temporary. I need to refurbish and find some more sponsors, and then hopefully, I can reopen.”

Tom sighs slowly into the empty air of his home, looking up at the ceiling in distress.

“I was trying to figure out how to tell you—”

“It’s alright, Harry. I’m glad you told me now. I’ll just… find a new gym.”

“If you go to my competitor, I won’t blame you.”

Tom replies with a hefty laugh.

“It’ll only be temporary.”

So, that’s what Tom has been doing—going to his brother's competitor. However, it was only supposed to be for a few weeks. But it ended up being a few months. Tom’s adjusted to the new gym quite nicely. He likes the wide variety of machinery and how many options he has. When he first came in, he was using machines he’d never even seen before.

Even though his gym was switched up on him, Tom is a routine kind of guy. It only took him a week to adapt to his new environment and get comfortable with everything. He developed a new schedule for his morning workouts since he can no longer go to the gym in the evening. He wasn’t necessarily a morning person, but for the gym-induced high, he would do it.

He had a specific day for arms, legs, chest, back, shoulders—everything. Over the years, he’s done his research on the body, and even took anatomy in high school.

Did that even help him?

To say he’s gym-obsessed isn’t too much of an overstatement, even if Tom disagrees. He would say he’s obsessed with his dog, but not the gym. He refuses to put himself in the category of “gym-bros” and dumbasses that live off protein shakes. Yeah, he likes those shakes too, but he wouldn’t die if he had more than one cheat day in a week. Tom likes to live his life outside of the gym, unlike those people.

Tom worked an average job with a good salary, and relatively lived an average life with good people. He didn’t go out much because he didn’t have many people to hang out with besides his brothers. Harrison has been his best mate since high school, but with both of their work schedules colliding, it’s hard to find the time. Plus, he’s been way too busy planning his wedding.

Yeah, a wedding.

Tom’s not surprised by the fact that Harrison’s getting married. In fact, he’s not surprised at all. Of course he’s happy for his best friend. He’s just… envious in a subtle way. Both Tom and him are 28 years old, and while Harrison met the love of his life and is starting a future with her, Tom is yet to even date a girl for longer than a few weeks.

He’s been on dates here and there, even had a few one-night stands in the past year, but after some time, he just gave up completely. Sometimes, a girl will smile at him or look him up and down, but he doesn’t even try to pursue them like he used to. For the few times that he is out with his friends or brothers and a girl is all over him, he’ll take the opportunity and bring her home.

But it never goes farther than that. And Tom is afraid he’ll never have more than that.

Shaking off the terrible thoughts to start his morning, Tom walks through the glass doors of the gym. He passes the front desk and towards the clean machines that are practically calling his name. The barely rising sun can be seen through the huge window panes along the entire building, making the scene look peaceful.

There were a couple of bodies in the area, but besides the delicate music seeping through the speakers, it was quiet. To Tom, this was tranquil.

After a few simple stretches, Tom snatches the jump ropes. He jumps until his muscles are loose and warm and they’re just itching to be challenged. Today, he decided to do legs with an additional ab workout just because. He was a little extra energized, and he craved for his body to be sore. He doesn’t do this often, but he needs to change it up once in a while, right?

Tom goes straight towards the leg press, knowing that that machine will fire his legs up immediately. When he starts his reps, he already feels the burn. He knows today is going to push his limits, but he’s ready.

—

About halfway through his workout, he wants to give up. But he knows that’s exactly when you need to keep going.

He’s struggling with his squats, really trying to lift these three plates that are taunting him. He can do two easily, which means he has to add weight if he wants to actually gain and keep his muscles. He takes a deep breath before trying to squat for the second time. He slides the padded bar over his ready shoulders. The weight is dawning and plummeting his own body to the ground.

As he lowers his legs, squatting with the best of his abilities, his lower back aches immensely before he drops the bar onto the matted floor. The plates clang against each other in the relatively quiet gym

“Fuck,” he groans and chucks off his headphones, clutching his lower back near his tailbone. This is now the second time he’s failed, but the first time he’s felt this pain. It wasn’t a shooting, sharp pain, but it was aching enough to warn him that he was positioning himself wrongly.

“Are you okay?” A woman’s voice asks concerningly a few feet behind him. Tom turns around too quickly, making his back hurt a little more. He tries to hide his hiss behind clenched teeth when he sees you.

Your eyes were wide with worry and your head was slightly tilted. You were sporting a tight sports bra with matching shapely leggings. You had a towel dangling in your hand and a black shirt in the other. Maybe it was because of his small pain, but Tom couldn’t help dragging his eyes down your body in awe. He hisses at the sight unconsciously.

“I’m assuming that’s a no,” You squint your eyes with a slight tease as you walk up to him. Tom nods while also fixating in the present. He had a tendency to drift off into his head if his imagination wandered enough.

“Yeah, I think I hurt my bad a bit,” he smiles while trying to stretch by twisting left and right.

“Maybe I can help? If you’d like me to,” You offer as Tom stares at you. Your eyelashes are fluttering almost innocently, and Tom is beyond intrigued. He nods with a charming smile, one that you just had to reflect back. It was easily one of the most gorgeous smiles Tom has ever seen.

“Just so you know, I kind of work here. Well—I mean—I do work here. I’m just new,” You rambled. You were a bit nervous. You were a certified trainer, but you’ve never trained someone outside of your schooling. Yes, you’ve done family and friends, but not a stranger. A random stranger who actually needs your experience. You’re not sure how you landed a job at this seemingly high-end gym, but you never question the good things that happen anymore; you just let them happen.

“Good to know. Since you offered, I assume you know what you’re doing,” Tom teases and you roll your eyes playfully. He eased some of your nerves.

When you ask how he was squatting, he explains what he was doing and when and where the pain was occurring. You nodded along to his words, collecting all of it and connecting it to your knowledge. You come to a conclusion long before he’s done and gaze at his body. You know a lot about anatomy and you’ve seen a bunch of bodies throughout your life.

But staring at his ripped and sweaty body has you feeling all warm and tingly. The morning sunlight seems to shine perfectly over his perspiration, twinkling as a few drops slide between his rigid muscles.

“I think you strained your back,” You say simply without blinking right as he finished talking. You shake your head as if you weren’t just ogling his muscles. What is wrong with you? You were supposed to be a professional.

“Oh,” Tom finally says with a slight frown to his face.

“Does it hurt when you turn as well or just when squatting?”

“Mainly just squatting,” he answers.

“Okay,” You give him a once-over as if analyzing him. You were analyzing him, just not in a very professional way. There was nothing professional about how your eyes turned hungry as they gazed at his blessed figure. “The best thing to do is to not sit. Or stop what you’re doing basically. I would say no more squats for a while or anything that strikes pain. But don’t terminate all your exercise. That will actually make it worse.”

Tom nods along to all that you’re saying with understanding. Everything that you’re telling him makes perfect sense, so there was a good minute where he zoned out and just stared at you. Your matching set makes your skin look smooth and defines every curve of your body. The way your hands moved as you spoke had him mesmerized like he was under hypnosis.

“Got it?” You ask as a heat floods up your neck. Tom blinks rapidly and mumbles a yes, but he looks all too distracted. He didn’t hide well that he was staring at you, but he didn’t seem like he was trying to either.

“Is there anything else?” Tom questions as the air between you two gets tense, voice lower than before. Panting and echoing machines are all that are heard in the space around you. You swallow your sudden nervousness that was about to cough up a whine. You wondered if he wanted you to say something else.

Maybe he wanted you to confess. Confess something that you were both thinking, but you both didn’t know.

“N-No,” You slightly stutter out when you answer, smiling to try to cover this feeling that’s bubbling up inside of you.

“Well, I guess I’ll just do the treadmill before I head out.”

“Right. Sounds good. Have fun!” You ramble as he walks away, chuckling with each step he takes. You turn away and your smile instantly falls as you groan to yourself, “Have fun? Why did I say that?”

You run your hand over your face as you try to regain your lost pride. When you walk back into the coach’s area, you slip on your uniform shirt, so people are aware you actually work there. You take a deep breath and mentally slap yourself in the head for being so unprofessional. You barely just started working here and you’re already breaking rules! You’re not allowed to have relationships with your clients. Wait, that’s a rule, right? Now, that doesn’t make much sense…

But you know for certain that thinking about someone sexually after just meeting them, rule or not, client or not, it’s inappropriate. You’ve never looked at someone and just completely melted at the sight of them. You can’t stop picturing the way his leg muscles flexed as he carried the heavy weight of the squat bar. Or the way his cheeks reddened and hollowed out air as he pushed himself to stand up straight.

Although you watch and help people work out for a living, you’ve never found it entertaining. But for some reason, your mind is just so utterly fucked over by this random guy that you’ve never seen before. He looks like he’s been doing it a long time, especially with that figure. Has he been at this gym for a long time? He seems like he has.

Your mind likes to wander and wander as you do busy work and wait for the day to end. From your area, you weren’t able to see the front doors, so you never saw the stranger again that day. You assume he left soon after your departure, but you wish that you saw him just once more. Maybe you’d get the confidence to catch his name and even offer a session. Free of charge, you imagine yourself saying accidentally because you’d be so distracted.

Throughout your shift you helped a few people and even assisted in the group exercise class. Though, you loved when you had one on one trainings the most because you got to see your client grow their strengths and their weaknesses.

As your shift came to an end, you collected your bag with a heavy sigh. It was only the afternoon, but of course you didn’t have any plans. You had spent a year working to become a certified trainer, but brought no one with you along the way. You took a gap year when high school ended to try to figure out what you wanted to do, and then you discovered training and you felt comfortable. You had some friends, but none were strong enough to stay with you. It was really just you, with the occasional hangout with your older sister who lectured you sometimes.

You felt lonely sometimes, but it’s not like you really tried to fix it either. You went out every blue moon, waiting for some magical miracle to occur. Nothing sprouts; no love, sex, relationship, or friendship spawned at your feet when you’re out late at night in a bar or club. So, you kind of just stopped going. Was it sad to say you kind of lost hope in dating and sex?

Besides the point, when you entered your apartment, you were alone. Just like most days when you weren’t busy researching ways to start a business.

Oh, was that mentioned?

You wanted to start your own business with your certification. However, it was hard because you had little to no experience in business. Your dad knew good tips and tricks, but he wasn’t experienced enough either. And since you were quite lonely, you hadn’t made many connections to people that might have loads of talent in the field.

One day, you would actually talk to someone, you swore. And they would help make your dreams of a business come to life. It’s not that you didn’t believe in yourself to make it happen; it was more than a reasonable goal. It’s just that you’re so unmotivated right now because of your lack of connections.

Ugh, why does life have to be so difficult?

—

Tom wakes up early with groggy eyes and a sore back. He had done some research online last night on how to sleep with a strained back. He was told to lay on his side with a pillow stuffed between his knees. But of course when he woke up in the morning, his body was flailed across his mattress like an eagle, pillows completely disregarded from him.

When he tried to sit up too quickly, a sharp pain erupted in his back, making him sit right back in the bed. Maybe he should just take his time like the woman at the gym said…

You were slightly disappointed you didn’t see the good-looking stranger again on your shift. You shamelessly glanced around the machinery, hoping to recognize his bulky shoulders and defined muscles, but they were nowhere to be found.

You got to see a few good bodies, but there was something about that stranger that just made your insides tingle.

Again, so unprofessional. This is why you can’t start a damn business!

—

Tom didn’t go to the gym for a week. A week!

His back was just in too much pain and lifting heavy weights sounded tortuous. He still went to work and went on evening walks with his dog, but he felt pretty lazy. He forced himself to take a week off of the gym to heal, and thankfully it worked. His mind kept lingering to the pretty woman who talked to him, but he kept excusing it with his pain. He must only be thinking of you because you gave advice he needs to remember, right?

By the next week, Tom was already back in the gym. He walked through those glass doors again, quickly checked in, and headed towards the machinery. He moved slowly as his eyes subconsciously tried to find you again. Tom had this… need to tell you that he’s okay and that your advice worked. Again, it was just an excuse, so he could talk to you again. Maybe he would see your name tag this time, or just ask for it blatantly.

He makes a quick once-over of the area, and is a bit disappointed when he doesn’t see you lingering. He goes straight towards the jump rope to refresh his muscles that have been resting for one of the longest times since high school.

Tom jumps and jumps and jumps… and then nearly falls over when he sees you turn around after doing a squat. The curve of your ass in those leggings made his mouth water and your charming smile made him crazy.

Before he knows it, you’re approaching him while he’s completely phased.

“Hey, I see that you made it back. How is your… back?” You ask, squeezing the towel in your hand with an intense grip. Your heart started fluttering a little from just the sight of him, and you wondered why you were getting so worked up over a stranger.

“It’s all good now! I think,” Tom chuckles while rubbing his neck. He nervously twists the rope between his fingers, trying to think of a way to keep the conversation going. “I, uh, never caught your name.”

Your heart skips a beat and a smile threatens to take over your face. It was such a little thing, but you’ve been wondering what his name was for the past week. A name to a face to fit your fantasies.

“Y/N,” You smile, but your eyes struggle to meet his face. He was just so gorgeous you felt like you might be blinded if you looked too long. “And you?”

“Tom,” he surely answered with a nod.

“That fits you very well.”

“What do you mean?” he questions and your eyes go a little wide. You hadn’t meant to say that. It sounds creepy and weird; to say that his name fits him… as if you were thinking about him.

“Well—like—I was wondering what your name was when I first talked to you and now that you said it, it makes sense. Not that I was thinking about you all week or something… that’s just creepy!” You awkwardly laugh after your ramble, thinking of the fastest way to leave this conversation so you can regroup. This is why your dating life is so shallow. You can’t hold a conversation for a second without rambling out nonsense or making a fool of yourself. It’s typical, really.

You thought he was going to laugh at you like a bully and walk away from your weirdness. But instead, he softly chuckles at your antics while staring at your face. Noticing that he’s still standing in front of you, you slowly drag your eyes up his body until you finally meet his eyes.

They’re that perfectly golden brown color that looks like oozing honey when reflected off the sun. Since you were only a foot away, you could see his nose was a little crooked and he had an uneven eyebrow. His hair seemed a bit unruly, but all you wanted to do was run your hands through it.

“I’ve been wondering what your name was, too,” he finally admits when the air around you feels like it’s closing in. Your heart was beating as if something was going to happen, but you knew nothing would. Nothing was going to happen in front of all of these people.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Tom hums as he watches your pupils dilate and eyes struggle to look at him. He’s been thinking about you all week, he can admit that, but now you can’t even look at him? He wanted to see your pretty eyes. “I’ve been wondering about a few other things as well.”

“Oh? Like what?” Your voice was slightly breathless and you felt the need to check over your shoulder every second. You felt like you were breaking some rule and you were able to be fired on the spot. It felt so wrong, but you wanted to see where this goes. You were all too intrigued by this glorious man before you.

“Like why you can’t look at me.”

“What? I’m looking at you!”

“Not longer than a blink.”

“S-So? Do you want to have a staring contest or something?” You bite your tongue when you stutter.

“Maybe. I just want to see your pretty eyes,” Tom didn’t plan on calling your eyes pretty right off the bat, but his bluntness is what made you finally look up at him. He saw innocence as well as desire laced within your irises. And he wondered if you really had been thinking about him all week. If you had, that would confirm that you want more. It would confirm that Tom isn’t crazy, and that there is some type of spark in between you too.

Will a one-time thing, like sex, dull the craving spark, or ignite it?

“We can’t here,” You say barely above a whisper.

“Do what? A staring contest?” Tom begins to smirk causing you to groan. He’s got to be one of the cockiest people you’ve ever met, but he has every right to be. Usually, you hate men that know they’re attractive because their cockiness just makes them an asshole. But Tom is the funny type, who pretends to be cocky, but he’s actually really humble.

How did you get all of that from only two conversations with him? And they were barely conversations!

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually. Care to tell?”

“You want…” You can see the way he tries to hide his growing smirk and it tells you all you needed to know. The air thickened between you both, heavy with tension and heat. Your heart was racing and your stomach burned in a way that pushed your courage over the edge. You’ve needed something like this for a long time, you just never knew how long you actually needed it. “You want me to give you a session!”

Tom clicked his tongue at your teasing, slightly chuckling. You blinked your eyes as you flashed your fraud innocence at him.

“What does the session include?” His voice was low and deep. There was a certain rumble in his tone that made your legs feel like jelly and your mind go blank.

“I-I can show you. Let’s go in the back,” You try to remain as playful as possible, but you were absolutely losing it. You just wanted him to take control and kiss you as hard as possible; to do the unimaginable. Of course, the horniest you’ve ever been in your whole life is at work of all places. There’s no way there isn’t a rule about having sex in the gym. You’re sure people have done it before, but never employees. That had to have been prohibited.

But your desire is taking control of all your actions right now as you lead Tom through the gym and into your miniature office. Since you were relatively new, your office was in the back of the gym in a little room. The other offices for the more experienced trainers were near the front and were wide open to the public. You didn’t like how your space was so far away from everything because it made you feel disconnected, but right now, you’ve never been more grateful.

As you guide him into your office, you shut the door and push in the lock. You had a small wooden desk with a single picture frame and a laptop. A few different papers lie across, but you’re quick to stack them and slot them in the first drawer. When you stand back up, Tom is closer to you than ever, hovering right over you.

Your heart rate increases exponentially as his hungry eyes pierce your soul. Your impulses want to rip his shirt dramatically off of his torso, so you can run your hands all along his sweaty, ripped stomach. You’d make sure to kiss every centimeter of skin before landing on your knees for him. You’re almost positive you’d do anything he’d ask. Before you can even blink, he’s leaning in, cutting the distance and inching closer to your weekly fantasy.

“So what do I get?” His voice was breathy as his eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips. You couldn’t help but do the same.

“Anything. Anything you want,” You respond way too quickly, your desperation spilling out from you. Out of instinct, you took a step back from him, making your back bump into the wall. He was crowding your space as much as he could without actually touching you. And it was utterly killing you.

“What a generous trainer,” he placed his hand delicately on the wall next to your head. “Do you do this with all of your clients?”

“Only the fittest,” Your lustfulness made you brutally honest as if you had chugged truth serum. “But no, I’ve never… brought anyone back here before.”

“The first and the fittest. I might just have to book a session.”

“Luckily, a spot just opened. You can have it,” Your eyes meet him again. The second he sees your eyelashes flutter up, there’s nothing stopping him from kissing you. Not the tension, not the voices in his head, not the fear of someone knocking on the door asking for you.

Tom’s lips crash against yours in an eager kiss, lips melting together from the heat you’ve built up. It’s sweet and it’s salty, but it’s fulfilling that nagging ache you’ve wanted cured all week long. Your hands immediately find their way to his luscious curls, lacing your fingers through them just like you imagined. His rough-textured hand cups your jaw, angling you directing into his mouth when he slots a bit of his tongue inside.

His body presses forward against yours, rock-hard, stiff, and hot. The feeling of his heaviness and warmth was even better than you had conjured up in your crazy, little head. His rhythm was easy to rock with, and your body gravitated towards his. You whimpered into his mouth when his growing bulge poked the bottom of your tummy. Tom took that as a sign and popped off of your mouth. He trailed his wondrous mouth down your pulsing neck, causing you to stab your teeth into your lip to keep quiet.

Tom kissed and nibbled your skin without a care of who might see the marks. He didn’t know what would happen after all of this, but he wanted you to have at least one memory when it was all over. When reached your collarbone, he forced himself off of you.

“What do you want?” he grumbled.

“W-What? I don’t know! Anything, just do something, please.”

“You’re the trainer. You’re supposed to tell me what to do, no?” Tom’s teasing sends a tingle down your stomach that hits you straight in between your legs. “Do y’want me to fuck–”

“God, yes. Do anything, please,” You groaned, trying not to sound too desperate, but it was difficult when that’s all you were.

“Alright, alright, don’t worry.”

Tom pushed himself off of your body to remove his shirt. His glorious body was perfectly defined by his packed muscles wrapped in his tan skin. His skin looked so smooth, like a silky blanket. Your impulses got the best of you and before you could even think, they were roaming his god-like figure with curiosity.

“How are you so fit? Who is your trainer and how can I learn from them?” You question both jokingly and seriously. When he laughs, you can feel it vibrate through your fingertips and it makes you feel all fuzzy.

“I train myself, but I know some great cardio exercises I’d be willin’ to show you,” he winks as his hand lands on your hip. It was your turn to laugh now, your voice breaking the tight tension.

“Please,” You begged, tugging both of his hands toward you. It was your way of saying that he could do whatever he wanted now. “Go ahead.”

So he did. You removed your tennis shoes and then he yanked down your leggings. You were so needy at this point you didn’t even bother to discard your snug bra. If anything, you’re going to need its security with all the movement you’re about to do (hopefully).

His hands grabbed the hem of your leggings until they were completely off of your legs. You’re left in your soaking thong while he’s still in his loose gym shorts. Tom doesn’t waste another second because he’s growing just as impatient as you. He can feel himself twitching in his briefs, craving for a satisfaction that only you can seem to sedate.

Without a warning, Tom cups your mound with delicacy, fingers pressing against your aching hole. The gasp you let out is unwavering as your cunt clenches around nothing but your own desperation. He scrunches his palm, rubbing your underwear as you soaked through the fabric.

“Can feel that you’re soaking, darling,” Tom husks beside your ear, sending shocks of heat down your spine. You’ve never been so turned on in your life from someone, especially because of a deep, sensual accent like his. “Did I do this?”

“Yes, yes. All for you,” You nearly whined, but you withheld it with a strain. “Please just fuck me already.”

“What’s the rush, love? Got somewhere to be?” he taunted. You didn’t have anywhere to be and he seemed to know that. He was lucky you didn’t have any clients today or have any appointments. It was like the perfect coincidence that this occurred on this day. You’re grateful for the fate of the universe as he slips his hand into your panties to lace his fingers within your wetness.

“So fucking wet, love,” he grumbled so low you could barley hear it.

“I need it, please,” This is the most submissive you’ve ever been. You can’t recall a time where you have ever been this wet or needy for another man. There’s just something incredibly alluring about the man about you, rock-hard body and all.

“What do you need? Do you need me to put my finger in your tight, little hole? I bet it would just slide right in.”

“Fuck, Tom,” You growled in sexual frustration. His mouth spilled utter filth, but you were loving it. You felt the very tip of his finger nudging inside of you, causing your walls to clutch tightly. “I need you to fuck me. Please. No teasing.”

With an ever-growing smirk, Tom slips his hand out of your underwear and glides the material down your jelly-like legs. Your eyes never leave his hands, too scared to meet his intimidating eyes. You watch him with curiosity and desire as he tucks his thumbs in the waistband. His briefs come into your view and your eyes widen when you see the impressive bulge outline.

You swallow, intimidated by his size, especially since you haven’t had sex in a decent amount of time. He hasn’t even pulled down his underwear yet and you’re already frothing at the mouth.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I, um,” Your eyes wander around to your purse on the floor by your desk and you quickly bend down to pop it open. In one of your secret pockets, there is a nicely wrapped condom. “Here. I hope it fits.”

Tom laughs as he tugs his briefs down with ease. “You’re not good for my ego.”

You wanted to laugh in response, but you were too distracted by his cock. Mesmerizingly, you gaze at his hand stroking his veiny length, seemingly as desperate as you with pre-cum leaking at the tip.

Instead of grabbing the condom from your hand, Tom says, way too gravelly, “I want you to do it.”

So, with shaky hands and doe-eyes, you rip open the package and slide on the latex. The look on your face can easily make it seem like you’ve never even seen a dick before. But now looking at Tom’s, it feels like all the others are down the drain.

Within seconds, Tom has you back against the wall, one hand resuming beside your head and the other on your hip. Your heart jumped and pussy throbbed, waiting for him to break the lustful barrier in between you two.

“Ready?”

“Y-Yes,” You whimper as the head of his cock glides along your thighs before sliding in between them. Your arousal soaks the condom as he grips one of your legs, hoisting you up and around his waist. Your arms instantly wrap around his neck for security as your leg connects to him like a koala.

With one leg on the floor, you try to maintain your balance as he finally thrusts into you. You both collectively groan in sexual satisfaction, finally having your craving fulfilled. When you thought he had pushed all the way in, Tom pumps deeper inside of you, causing you to squeal.

“Shh, darling. Don’t want anyone to hear us fucking in your office, do you?” Your moans contradict his request, but you can’t help it. His hips were flicking up into you so fucking deliciously, and you couldn’t stop yourself from bucking right back into him. “Or maybe you do. You want someone to walk in and see one of their trainers getting their brains fucked out?”

“M-Maybe,” You couldn’t lie, the idea was enthralling. The idea and his dirty words made your toes curl and eyes roll to the back of your head. He knew exactly what to say and when to say it, almost as if he’d studied this.

“But I don’t want to get fired,” You whined a little too loudly.

“Well, then you better be a good girl and quiet down.”

In order to obey his demand, you brought one of your hands to cover your mouth. You allowed yourself to moan in your palm when his pace increased and he bottomed out completely. You could feel yourself fluttering around his cock as he rammed into you like no tomorrow.

His free hand traveled down to your clit and circled the throbbing bud with roughness. You shrieked against yourself, clenching tightly around his thick cock to compensate. Blindly, you are clawing at the skin on his neck and chest. Still, even when he was deep inside of you, you were terrified to look into his dark eyes.

With every thrust, you felt the way his muscles contracted against you. You felt and heard the way you drenched his cock even more with the sight. His muscles and body were the first thing that caught your eye about him to begin with, so you’re not totally surprised that you’re dripping from that.

He looks like a model. A statue. A god.

Small beads of sweat began to form on his abdomen, glazing down his chunks of muscle as he jammed harder into you. Your head hit the wall hard in ecstasy when he lowered himself to your neck and nibbled right below your ear. Every breath and groan that slipped from his mouth just sent you into overdrive and made you insane.

“I’m close,” You breathily warned, squeezing your leg tightly around him to push him even deeper. Tom groaned loudly on accident, too overpowered by the feeling of you.

“Wish I could hear your sweet sounds,” Tom mumbles as he pinches the top of your thighs to make you squeal. He resumes his attention on your clit, so he can distract himself from coming, because he knows he’s milliseconds away from absolutely losing it. “I know you’d sound so pretty screaming my name.”

“Tom,” You whimpered instead, eyes screwing closed. Your back began arching towards his buff chest and your breathing was becoming more rapid, indicating that your release was right around the corner. “I’m coming, shit.”

“Let go, love. C’mon, know you need it,” his lovely accent guided you through it with gravel encouragement. With another skillful rock of his cock, you were coming until you saw stars. Literally. Your eyes were closed so tightly that you saw little white specks in your vision. “There you go.”

Tom took that as his sign to finally relieve himself. As his thrust got sloppier, he helped you through it. With a fist to the wall and head in your shoulder, he came harshly in the condom.

Your body squirmed in his hold, already too sensitive. He gently let you stand on both feet, keeping you steady as you regained your balance. He removed the condom, tied it, and tossed it in the garbage.

“I can take out y’trash if you want me to,” Tom offered as you both slipped on your clothes. The humidity in the room seemed higher than ever, and then to put your clothes back on was just torturous.

“It’s alright, it’s not like anyone will go through it,” You reassured as you struggled to pull up your sticky leggings.

There was a moment of silence that made your heart rate pick up.You were both fully dressed and there was nothing stopping him from walking out. What was he thinking? Was he trying to find the best way to leave without being mean?

“I—” You both spoke at the same time, a flush burning your skins.

“Go ahead,” You insisted, too nervous and impatient for his response. He probably never wanted to see you again and that was fine, this was just a one-time thing that you will be thinking about occasionally. Or every day.

“Okay,” Now, Tom couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. He felt a tad nervous all of sudden as if he’d never talked to a girl before. He’s done this stuff loads of times, but he can’t help but get flustered like a school boy. “Can I… have your number? You can totally say no—”

“Yes,” You probably responded way too quickly, but you didn’t care. He wanted your number and you weren’t going to waste a second pretending to think about it. A smile grows on his face that was even bigger than his devilish smirk from earlier. “What does this mean?”

If you didn’t ask him, you would’ve been regretting it forever. You knew you wouldn't have had the courage to text him that question. What if he never even texted you, and he was just asking for your number to be nice?

“It means I’m going to text you.”

“Okay, well, thanks for clearing that up for me,” You rolled your eyes, but at least he was honest.

“Maybe ask you out too.”

“Really?” Your heart jumped on a trampoline in your chest, excitement bubbling up within you. You have been on a date in about a year, and Tom seems like a wet dream come true. You thought that maybe he wanted a friends with benefits arrangement, but a date? Is this real life?

“Yeah, if that’s something you want—”

“Yes,” You probably responded way too quickly, but you didn’t care. He wanted to take you on a freaking date and you weren’t going to waste a second pretending to think about it.

You did give him a free cardio session. The least he can do is take you out, right? What’s better than a free cardio session? Free food!

—

thanks for reading, this isn’t my favorite thing i’ve ever written because it felt a bit forced… so sorry about that 😭

tags: @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3 @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @theslayerofthevampires @breaxthing @eatshitanddiee

crossed out= not able to tag

[sheluvslani]

Not What It Looks Like Pt. 1

Request: Omg Lani, I’m so fucking high rn and I gots an idea. What about a ghostface Amber fic where she breaks into r’s house as ghostface. I kinda want it to be like in scream 1996 with Tatum where r goes: “don’t kill me Mr ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel.” But like ghostface/amber spares them for s*x in return. And then r finds out it’s Amber bc of the way ghostface is fucking them. ITS A LOT, I KNOW BUT I FEEL LIKE IM COOKING UP SOMETHING HERE- (anyway, I love your work ;3, keep doing yo shi bsf)

Pairing: Ghostface!Amber x fem!reader

Summary: Ghostface breaks into r’s apartment, fearing for her life, r would do anything to survive.

Warning: Ghostface, breaking in, red text color is ghostface talking, set in scream 5 but with certain characters added from scream 6🤓

A/n: okay Walter white, I see you cooking up something other than that weed :3 I love this request tho, istg I gotta get high more often to create ideas this good LMAO! No but seriously, this sounds amazing and thank you for asking me to write this! (Plus, I find it funny that you censored sex)

You were at your friend Tara’s dorm with the rest of your friend group, playing uno and getting drunk. You were sat down between Tara and your girlfriend Amber. She rested her hand on your thigh as she watched the game, sipping on her beer. 

“Uno!” You raised your hands in the air as a sign in victory, the rest of the group groaning and slamming their cards down onto the wooden dining table.

As you cheered and gloated in front of everyone’s face, the news on the TV started blaring, the siren blaring in your ears.

“Breaking News: Blackmore University film student by the name of Jason Carvey was found brutally stabbed in his dorm. The mutilated body of his roommate, Gary Bruckner, has been found crammed inside the fridge. A bloody Ghostface mask was found on the scene, police ran a DNA test and concluded that the mask belonged to Billy Loomis,”

“The infamous Ghostface of Woodsboro,” You and the group finished the sentence in unison. After the Woodsboro attack, the group moved to New York to live a “normal life”

But it looks like the plans gone to shit.

Amber reached over for the remote and shut the TV off. When you looked at her, her expression was stone cold, her jaw clenched as she stared at the blank screen. You originally thought it was from shock, but there was something in the way her lips pursed too hard that made it seem odd.

“It’s probably not even Ghostface this time, just some random looking for a thrill.” Mindy said as she got up to grab another beer.

“I’m sorry, Catherine Obvious, but have you been here for the past year?” Chad waved his hand in front of Mindy���s face when she sat down. “It’s obviously him… they followed us.” He leaned back his chair, drumming his fingers on his arm.

The room was silent for a moment, everyone taking in the information that no one wanted to hear.

“We need to go.” Sam stared down in the middle of the table, her eyes burning holes into the colorful Uno cards. 

“Psh, Sam, it’ll be fine. Don’t be dramatic.” Amber smirked as she wrapped her arm around your shoulder, her attitude completely different than what it was 10 seconds ago.

Sam threw a death-glance at Amber, about to cuss her out before Anika spoke up, 

“Yeah, I think we’ll be fine. If anything, we have cute boy across the street to help us.” Anika smirked as Sam’s face grew a bright red, muttering something under her breath before beelining to her room.

“Well. I say we call it a night.” Chad said as he stretched his arms over his head.

Everyone agreed and collected their belongings while Mindy was (rightfully) the one to help clean up everything.

————————————————————————

Amber had her arm wrapped around your waist as she walked you back to your dorm. When you arrived, Amber softly kissed your cheek as her other hand traveled up your shoulder, her fingers digging into your skin.

“Be safe, y/n. I can’t handle another one of Sam’s hour-long speeches about sticking together.”

You softly chuckled as she swept a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll try. But if anything happens, I’ll call you. Goodnight, Amber.” You softly squeezed her arm before letting go, entering your dorm as you blew her a kiss.

You locked the door behind you, placing your phone and keys on the entryway table. You stretched your arms above your head, your muscles tense from the game and a pounding headache from the news and the amount of alcohol in your system. 

You walked into your bedroom, taking off your shoes before grabbing a pair of pajamas and heading to the bathroom, your steps slow and relaxed.

The hot water of the shower rained down on you, your muscles relaxing from the aroma of the lavender bodywash that Amber bought for you. The soap suds ran down your curves, collecting at the foot of the shower before being washed away.

When you finished and wrapped yourself in a towel, you walked to the sink to brush your teeth. The spearmint toothpaste lingered in your mouth before being replaced with the strong taste of the cool mint mouthwash you spat out into the sink.

You put in a black bra and a pair of black panties before grabbing your pajamas. The blue cotton antic stuck to your damp body as you pulled the shirt over your head and stepped into the matching pants.

You threw your dirty clothes into the weaven laundry hamper, the bin rocking against the wall for a split second. 

You sat down in front of your vanity, grabbing your brush and running it through the knots in your hair. The brush caught on one particularly big knot in your hair. As you struggled to brush it out, the landline that was sitting on your bedside table started ringing.

“Unknown Number”

The words flashed on the tiny screen as the ringing filled the room.

 Once you brushed out the tangle, you reached over to press the “accept” button on the landline.

“Hello? Y/n speaking. ” You called out as you ran a hand through your hair.

“Hello? Is Maria there?” The voice on the other line was adenoidal and croaky.

Maria was your roommate who was currently out of town, visiting her parents.

“No, she’s not available. Might I ask who this is?”

“I’m Joey. I’m in her trig class” The caller cleared their throat.

“Oh yeah? Joey from trigonometry. How come I’ve never heard of you, Joey from trigonometry?” You smirked as you teased the poor person on the other line.

“You sound exactly like how she describes you.”

“She talks about me?

“I don’t think I can really talk about that.”

“What does she say about me?”

“She says that you’re creative. You love reading and TV and movies.”

“Lots of people love movies.”

“Yeah, but she says you love scary movies and that you guys have that in common.”

“She told me the other day, she wonders…” The voice trailed off for a moment before continuing.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Your ear perked up as you faced the landline, the bright green color of the screen stared at you, blinking the numbers over and over again.

“Well, I really liked “X”. It’s great representation of the psycho-biddy genre.”

“Sounds kinda boring to me. Have you ever seen Stab?”

“Once, i think. At a sleepover when I was, like, 12.”

“You lived in Woodsboro when you were a kid and you don’t know Stab?”

Now that, caught your attention. No one exceopt for the rest of the group knew you were from Woodsboro. You picked up the phone, pulling it to your ear as you made your way back into the living room to grab your cell.

“How’d you know I lived in Woodsboro?”

The voice on the other line was replaced by heavy breathing and the sound of rummaging.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Amber.”

“I told you, this isn’t Amber. But you’re looking particularly fetching tonight. Those blue pajamas really fit you.”

“What do you want?” You grabbed your phone and pulled up the dial button, as you pressed in the 9 and 1, the voice boomed again.

“Stop right there, y/n. You call the cops, you die. You hang up the phone, you die. It’s not hard getting into your dorm. Especially when you leave your window unlocked.”

That’s when you felt the slight breeze behind you. As you turned around, you saw that the living room window was wide open, the wind flowing with the curtains.

You bolted to the window, slamming it shut and locking it. You ran into your room, locking the door behind you.

The voice came on the landline again, “Come on, y/n… Don’t be shy, come and find me…”

You searched every nook and cranny in your room, carefully making sure there was no sign of Ghostface here.

When you searched under your bed, you found a bloody Ghostface mask, more blood stuck to your hands the longer you held it… it was easy to recognize this one too…

Mickey Alteri

The 2nd Ghostface

“What the fu-,” was all you could manage to get out before you heard the doors of your closet adjacent to the bed, crashing open. A black-robed figure sprinting at you was the last thing you saw before being tackled to the ground by Ghostface. A knife was pressed against your throat from the person above you, the voice changer crackled with every heavy breath.

“Surprise, y/n.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi :) i hear you give advice and i very much need some. I’m 15 and I live in a pretty (very) conservative christian area.

My older sibling is 19, and came out as trans to me like a year ago. Ngl I didn’t really know what that meant, cause we don’t learn about that stuff (except for your classic, anything that isn’t “normal” is wrong). But he just told me that he’s happier with he/him and with his new name. But he hasn’t told our parents yet, so I have to use the old stuff in front of them when he comes back for visits (he’s as uni) which feels gross cause I know he feels uncomfortable but it’s fine. 

I sort of thought the he/him thing would be weird, since that’s not how i’ve addressed him my whole life, but after a couple of months it was actually super easy. We call each other like twice a week, and I was worried we’d drifted apart after he told me but actually were closer than ever, I feel like I know him a lot better now. 

Oh but his old name, the one parents gave him, SUCKS. And now I can’t mock him for it cause he picked a new one, which seems unfair to me but I can come up with new material, i’m creative.

Anyway, he told me that he’s been saving up and he’s gonna get top surgery. He’s had a pretty good job since  school so I guess he’s been saving since then. I hear it’s expensive. 

But it made him decide to tell our parents. So when he came up and visited, just before he left, he told them.

That was last week. They reacted terribly, as we knew they would. And they’ve both been yelling about it a bunch. Saying stuff like “He (okay no they’re actually using she but I won’t be doing that even in writing cause it feels wrong cause it’s my brother) is totally insane” or “He needs therapy, we failed him.” or “How dare *old name* do this” or “he’s delusional” and a bunch of other awful shit like that.

So I have two options. I can try and encourage them to do little things like use he/him for my brother. Or call him their son instead of daughter. Or actually look at photos of him now (he very much doesn’t look like a girl anymore- idk how they didn’t realise tbh). Or how he always did little things like cutting his hair and hating dresses and other stuff like that.

I’ve often been able to help my parents be nicer about stuff. Like my friend who’s a lesbian, they hated her at first but now they’re nicer about it.

But maybe if I do that they’ll start yelling about corrupting me (as they’ve done in the past) and harass my brother worse and be even worse about it all. 

It’s hard to know which direction it’ll go.

And look I still don’t really get it. But also it makes sense, you know? It’s like the final puzzle piece being slotted in, all those things he used to do make sense now. 

My parents say I can’t interact with lgbtq+ stuff cause they’ll corrupt me. But like- not to be rude but, aren’t they corrupting me? My brother HAPPY. I don’t see how that’s wrong. And they’re the ones telling me I should be actively encouraging him to be- what, sad again? Uncomfortable in himself. 

I don’t know, i’m not totally sure I understand my parents or my brother. I got tumblr in the first place since it’s the only thing I could think of that’s online (so I could hide it) and probably has lgbtq+ people on it so I could- idk get used to it I guess. 

And now i’m here. 

When it comes down to it, I want my brother to be happy, and if he’s happier as my brother than my sister then I don’t see why I should care about him switching pronouns or whatever. 

So I want to try and help my parents see it like that too. And they often do see new sides to things when I point them out. So maybe id be helping.

But there’s also the chance they’d get more mad at my brother for corrupting me and that’d make him upset and that’s not what I want. 

So yeah, any advice? 

It’s kinda scary coming from my small town onto the giant internet of people i’ve been taught are weird. But you guys don’t seem that weird. I mean- you do but weird like i’m weird, not weird like ill. (Sorry if any of this seems rude btw, I might not get it but i’m trying really hard not to judge anyone, since it’s pretty clear to me that some of the things i’ve been taught aren’t correct). 

Also why do my parents think my brothers ill anyway? I know him, i’d know if he’s ill. Also i love history, and trans people are all over history. I mean they’re never said to be trans but watching my brother, it’s pretty obvious other people were like him. 

Anyway, thanks and have a good summer 💖

Hi hon!

I want to tell you, it sounds like you have a really good head on your shoulders and you're an amazing support to your brother. You should be so proud of yourself.

I think you need to think about what is best for you and your mental health. If speaking up to your parents about your brother could end in them getting mad at you, it might not be a good idea. You've been doing amazing at supporting him while staying quiet, and I know he knows you support him. It might be best for yout o quietly educate yourself online without making a fuss, until you aren't relying on your parents as much for money, food, and shelter- kind of like your brother did.

This also might be a good thing to talk to your brother about, too. Like you said, this could affect him, and he probably knows your parents well. He might have some good advice <3 But you don't HAVE to stand up to them if it's not good for you. It's okay to educate yourself, and be an ally in other ways <3

Naming you history anon <3

(also wish your brother luck on his top surgery for me!)

[heliads]

i've got my eye on you

Nico Rosberg has moved on from 2016; the silver war; all of it. So he thought, at least. Lewis is still here, though, and that makes the forgetting so much more difficult.

masterlist

Nico Rosberg is not lonely, most of the time. He’s a busy man; he meets a lot of people, takes them out to drinks or dinner parties, and exchanges LinkedIns as often as phone numbers. It’s a good life. Keeps him sane. 

Sometimes, though. Sometimes, Nico finds himself waiting for something else, something better, something real. That’s when he crosses the line he swears he’ll never touch again and thinks about someone specific. There is a man living in his very same complex, someone who knows Nico better than the scores of environmental activists and Sky Sports reporters, and Nico doubts they’ll ever be the same again. 

They were good in the beginning. Better than good, they were the best and everyone knew it. The silver arrows, finest of the fine. They had identical white race suits and the same exact drive to win. That’s where they ran into problems, of course, because the podium only has space for one king to have a crown. The other has to be left in the shadow, the cursed second place. No one could live like that forever. They certainly didn’t.

Still, they were the same in almost every aspect. Nico swapped up their hats once, towards the end. He had wanted to throttle whoever had the idea to make their merch so similar. They may be on the same damn team, but that doesn’t mean they have to match in everything else as well. Same logo, same colors, and then Nico had taken off his cap to fidget with it and saw Lewis��� name there instead of his own, embroidered into the black fabric with the precision of a machine stitch. 

Funny how Nico can literally walk around wearing Lewis’ name against his skull, and they still have no more claim to each other than complete strangers. Worse than strangers, actually. They had once been everything.

Some days, he thinks about it all the time. Other days, he forces it out of his mind until he can almost delude himself into thinking it’ll never show up again. And, on other, worse days, such as this one, Nico walks into the lobby of his home building in Monaco, both of his daughters holding his hands, and he spots Lewis across the room, pulling a suitcase behind him. Must have been a race weekend. Nico knows it is, of course, fixates over every score like he’s still in it, but. It’s easier to pretend that he could forget.

Usually, Nico’s good at brushing off encounters like this, but they’re just too close for that tactic to work. Nico wasn’t expecting it; last night ended up being late, plus he’s been out with the girls all morning. That’s why he doesn’t just keep walking, why he actually stops and stares. Lewis comes to a standstill around the same time. Must be the jetlag getting to him. That, and the fact that they haven’t been face to face outside of a race or work setting in months.

Nico should keep moving. He doesn’t, even as his girls tug at his hands in confusion. They know of Lewis, certainly, they’ve seen pictures up on the fridge and online, but they didn’t know Lewis like Nico did. No one could.

“It’s good to see you,” Nico says uncertainly. Pleasantries never fail.

Lewis shudders slightly and nods. “Yeah, you too. Hope the girls are doing well,” he adds, as if he can’t see both blonde daughters right by Nico’s side. They’re still holding onto his hands, one apiece, and eyeing Lewis with wide, curious stares. They’ve inherited that from him already, it seems, the inability to look away.

“Do you two want some sweets?” Lewis asks suddenly. “I keep a bag in my luggage.”

Nico frowns, asks something asinine about drivers and nutritionists and fitness goals. Lewis just chuckles and says that he never actually opens the thing, just keeps it in the bag so he can practice self discipline or something else insane like that. God, he always tried to be the best of them.

His girls don’t know any of that sort of life, though, and won’t so long as Nico can help it, so they just clap their hands and plead for a treat or two. Nico gives the appropriate nod when it’s clear that Lewis is serious.

Lewis kneels down to the ground, unzips the top of his suitcase and pulls out a bag. Crisp, unopened, just as promised. Lewis’ resolve held all this time, then broken just now. The plastic tears easily. It doesn’t take much.

Lewis considers the bag. “I’ve always been fond of those. They remind me of some stuff I used to love a while back. They were from some small town, I don’t remember where.”

“Hoddesdon,” Nico says. He states the place aloud like he’s rattling off one of a thousand countries or capital cities, some bright child with a knack for memory games who will grow up into a man who knows too many languages but not enough people with whom to practice. “You’re talking about the candy from Hoddesdon.” Town near the place they used to kart together. Close enough to walk or bike from any hotel or flat. Two boys could do it easily if they were inclined to stay out all day and night, and they usually were.

Lewis’ head snaps up, and the brief look of shock and wonder reminds Nico of when they were kids. It’s the exact same expression Lewis would wear when Nico agreed to buy him some sweets. Even though Lewis would beg and plead with him all day long, the moment Nico said yes Lewis always looked surprised, as if he never truly expected that Nico would go along with it. That Nico would go along with him. Maybe that’s why Nico always caved. It meant he got to see that look again. 

Painfully, it also reminds Nico of how Lewis had looked when he found out Nico was retiring in 2016. They were in the midst of a massive crowd with too many overlapping voices and faces, but somehow Nico had still been able to look out across the crowded room and sight Lewis the moment Nico opened his mouth and announced his retirement. 

It had been the same expression then as now. The brief drop of his stomach like a roller coaster, the smooth spread of a poker face to cover up any emotional slips or wide eyes. All of it. Lewis had never told Nico any of this, of course, but Nico has known Lewis long enough to read his body, his mind, his entire life. It’s why he likes pointing out Lewis’ flaws on Sky Sports; just another way of proving that he’s still got it, that no matter how much Lewis changes, Nico Rosberg still knows exactly what makes him tick. 

More often than not back then, it was Nico. It’s still Nico now whenever they awkwardly run into each other in their complex or Nico analyzes him a little too well on live TV. 

Right now, though, Lewis is not angry at him, just caught off guard. Something in the back of Nico’s brain says that he likes that more. Nico scowls to himself and wonders why he hadn’t shut that voice up years ago. 

“Yeah,” Lewis says at last, after a weighty pause that Nico isn’t entirely sure doesn’t solely happen in the confines of his own head, “Yeah, it was.”

To distract himself, Lewis remembers what he’s promised and hands some individually wrapped candies to the two blonde girls clustering in front of him. Nico remains where he is, watching as Lewis replaces the bag in his luggage again, closes the top, stands up and mumbles something about how he’d better get going. Crazy travel like always. You know how it is.

Nico does know. He nods, giving Lewis the reprieve he needs to head to the lift. Nico thinks that he might actually lose his mind if he was in the same small box rattling up to their floor, looking anywhere but at Lewis, so he diverts his girls to throw their trash away first and Lewis gets away. Another lift comes in a short time. Everything is just as it was before, but– not at all.

His daughters cheer over their new sweets, giggling down the hallway about how they were able to convince Mr. Hamilton to give up his secret stash. Nico is plagued by the sudden thought that if he had married Lewis like he’d wondered about all those years ago, if they had adopted these girls instead of them being Nico’s by bloodline, that he might laugh about their reaction being inherited from Lewis instead of, you know, from him. It makes Nico think about just how much of Lewis is left in him. It makes him question if any of Nico is trapped inside Lewis, waiting to be let free. 

Even after he gets back to his place and locks the door carefully to guard against any unwholesome influences, Nico’s entire train of thought is rattled for the rest of the day. Nico has been trying his damndest to avoid Lewis every time they catch the lift or leave the building around the same time, and he knows full well Lewis has been doing the same. He’s all but admitted to it a few instances before.

This is why they play this elaborate game of hide and never seek, then. Nico lies awake at night, remembering paths he hasn’t gone over in a long time. The start. The glorious first act. How it had all broken to pieces. Nico had said before that he doesn’t regret the rivalry, that it only pushed them to greater heights, and he stands by that now. Still. That doesn’t mean his blood doesn’t run dark with grief to think of everything they once had that is gone forever now.

Nico can remember talking with his communications handler about it one time. He and Lewis had been fracturing for a while by then, but they’d only started showing it publicly for a few weeks. The guy had told Nico that this was good, actually, that people liked the slow burn death of it all. It was like watching a railway crash in slow motion, the guy had said. You know it’ll hurt and you know it’ll end badly but you just can’t look away for the life of you. 

It had made Nico’s veins thrum with the unhappy sickness of needing to prove the truth to be a lie. He’d wanted to spit in the guy’s face; swear at him until he ran out of breath; go drag Lewis in front of a live camera and make out with him until their gums bled, just to prove that they were still totally fine. 

Look where all that pent up self-justification got him, though. Nico and Lewis are hiding from each other in the same complex, too convinced that the other needs to change to ever leave. The comms handler must be laughing at them still, gleeful and victorious after Nico made him rich. 

There was a lot that even the viewers didn’t see. It’s not like either of them really tried to hide it, how they broke apart, but even so. People only saw the same few photos of sun bleached hair and gap toothed grins and unicycles, they didn’t know all of it. Nico thinks that’s for the best. The thought that anyone could know even half of what they had is intrusive and wrong.

When he closes his eyes, he can see all of it at once, overlapped like a thousand magazine clippings. Sleeping over and staying out late and making the same stupid jokes every time. Trying each other’s food and loudly arguing irrelevant details and racing and racing and racing. Small nothings that only serve to make him smile. More important stuff. Secrets Nico has only kept to himself.

Nico has only kissed Lewis once. That’s not counting stupid things like kisses on cheeks, everyone knows those don’t actually matter. That’s why you can get away with doing them in the background of televised interviews, in large crowds, even next to your father. People wouldn’t care, anyway. They’d laugh and say that he and Lewis were European, that’s what they did. It wasn’t real. It could never be real. When you count up how many times Nico wanted to kiss Lewis and didn’t, though— well, that would be like damn near every day. 

The one kiss was different. That was on purpose. He’s thinking about it now. It was late at night. 2015. Abu Dhabi. Nico had wanted to win that championship more than he’d wanted anything in his life. Maybe he’d fucked himself over in Austin, maybe even earlier, but it was still Lewis with the security of that title once the final race was over. He’d driven beneath the waving flag, he’d smiled and cheered in all the photographs, and Nico had felt this terrible sort of rage simmering beneath his bones.

The kiss had been later, at one in a successive chain of afterparties for both Mercedes drivers, technically, but mainly for Lewis. Lewis was the one who got it done. Lewis was the one who made them all proud. Lewis was also the one who pulled Nico aside when everyone else was busy getting shitfaced or screaming their heads off.

It had been dark. No one had seen. Lewis had grinned at him, asked Nico if he was really going to sulk the whole night. Nico had said something stupid like why shouldn’t I and give me a reason to stop and, well, Lewis had. Nico can still feel that night burned into him, taste it like all those times he drank champagne on a podium straight from Lewis’ hands. Salt and sweet and shameless. 

Lewis had pulled away just a little, enough to smell the alcohol on his breath, and asked if he was better. Nico lied, said yes, and swore to himself that he would win the next championship just so the next time this happened, he would not be the one to suffer. Betrayed with a kiss. Nico had made a proper Judas after all. He can still see the faces of everyone at Mercedes after he walked out of that contract, how even Vivian had cautiously asked him if he was really sure this was what he wanted. No one knew Nico Rosberg at all, and that was exactly how he wanted it.

Still, though. Thinking about the past makes him think about the kiss. They may have been somewhere between tipsy and wasted when it happened, but Nico swears that it had been a long time coming since before the fights even started. It just took the ache of resentment to let them cross that bridge and leave it burning.

He shouldn’t think about it anymore. He definitely shouldn’t think about how he’s still in the same building as Lewis, so close. Viv is out with the girls at the moment. No one would know. If Lewis rejects him here and now, well, Nico can always go back to his green energy fanboys and YouTube subscribers to soothe his ego.

This is a bad idea, and Nico can’t help it. He paces back and forth on the hallway he thinks might be Lewis’, dragging his heels like Lewis might be able to sense his hesitation somewhere, wherever he is, and come out at last. At the start of it, Nico has about a thousand different things he wants to say, accusations and apologies and mundane pleasantries all.

At the end, when Lewis does come out of his room, Nico doesn’t say anything. Can’t say anything. Instead, he just sort of nods, raises a hand halfway like he’s doing that weird half-jog at the start of a crosswalk. 

Lewis waits, silhouetted against the threshold of his door, and when it’s clear that Nico won’t be doing or saying a whole lot at the moment, smiles and asks, “What, come here often?”

It’s a stupid joke. Nico laughs anyway. “We both live here,” he says somewhat impetuously.

Lewis tilts his head to the side, considering this. “Not right here, I think.”

Nico narrows his eyes, debating whether he truly has to explain the abstractions of flat rooms versus buildings, but Lewis breaks into that light chuckle of his and Nico lets go of his irritation, he lets go.

“I’m kidding, man,” Lewis tells him, still unable to hide a laugh, “Just trying to mess with you. Can I ask why you’re here, though?”

It’s a fair question. Nico is, in fact, loitering outside of his former friend turned rival turned something’s door like he’s got nowhere better to be. He doesn’t, but that’s beside the point. Truth be told, Nico himself doesn’t entirely know why he’s here. It just seemed like the place he needed to be.

“I was thinking,” he begins, “About a lot, actually. It’s been a while.”

Lewis stares at him for a moment, eyes wide, and then all of a sudden his entire being relaxes and he opens the door a little more. Good of him for finally recognizing an olive branch when Nico offers it. God knows he’s been practically screaming it every interview they’ve shared, every time they’ve met each other’s eyes in the paddock when he was there with Sky Sports.

“Wow,” Lewis mumbles, “Yeah. That sounds– that sounds good.”

This time Nico can’t hide his derisive snort. “That’s terrible. We’ve been avoiding this for ages. I run into you, we act nice, then run off. We have to face this.”

A brief spark of anger flashes through Lewis’ eyes– good, that’s something Nico can handle, something familiar that they can both feel better about than this strange nothingness– but even that’s gone soon enough. Lewis doesn’t have to put up with him like a teammate, Nico supposes. Whatever they do from here on out is their own undoing, the red purely on their ledgers. He wants to drown in it.

Lewis knows this too, Nico can taste it like blood on a bitten tongue. They stand there for a moment longer, daring each other to take it further. It’s a familiar game, one they’ve played since kids. I’ll go faster if you do. You’ll jump off the bridge so long as I go first.

The heavy pause ends with the gasp of a caught breath. Lewis hesitates a bit, wobbling on the heels of his feet, then rocks back down to earth at last. “You can come in, you know. If you want to.”

The sentence sort of makes Nico sick. There was a time when he wouldn’t have had to offer such a thing at all. The invitation would have gone without question. Nico thinks he lived half of his childhood at Lewis’ place instead of his, in hotel rooms and bedrooms and streets behind houses. The other half Lewis was at Nico’s. The thought that at some point they would be grown and staring at each other, having to wait for a formal question to share each other’s space, is nothing short of horrific.

Still, it’s better than they’ve been for a long time. Nico can still feel Lewis’ gaze washing over him again and again, taking in the details. They’re older, both of them, but not beyond the urge to stare. He can feel the weight of it on his throat, heavy like a chain, and it robs him a little of his faux confidence.

 Nico nods once, the movement jerky and unsteady. “Alright,” he says, smiles, loosens his collar, and follows Lewis in.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

[louscartridge]

⇢ ˗ˏˋselenite

han jisung x gn reader

cw- could be really fucking triggering!! selfharm (cutting, burning, hitting, nail/skin picking, working out), comfort, cuddling, reader and jisung say ily, crying, reader goes on a vent, reader has a bit of an anger and pain problem.

han could tell you were having a hard time with staying clean.

the way you would bite your nails and the skin around them more than usual, the way you would bite the inside of your mouth and tongue all the time, they way you would hit your thighs whenever you would get mad. you wouldn’t tell him anything about it though, you didn’t have to.

when han got back to the dorms, he didn’t expect to see you there at all, let alone see you with your arms hugging your knees to your chest, head buried inbetween them and sobbing silently.

han quickly sets his bag down next to the door and makes his way over to you on his bunk. “jagiya, whats wrong?” he asks carefully.

of course he’d had ideas of what might be wrong, but he also couldn’t know for sure if he was correct. he knew that if he was right, he needed to at least try to help you in some way, but he also knew if he was way off, he had to tread around it carefully.

you take in a long, shaky breath before answering. “i cant do it anymore ji”

jisung’s heart dropped at your words.

“do what anymore?”

“stay clean. i hate it. all of it. everyone keeps telling me i’ve been nicer since i’ve been clean.” you wiped your eyes with your hoodie sleeve before continuing. “which is bullshit, by the way, i dont think i’ve been acting any different. i’m mad. all the time. i mean, i was before but whenever i would get mad i was able to do something about it. now? i can’t do shit.”

your crying begins to stop as you speak and the anger in your voice slowly increases.

“felix keeps telling me i can still do something about it, it’ll just be healthy now. which yeah, you could say that- but it’s stupid. ive tried other things, healthy things. but nothing works. pain was.. is, the only thing that actually helps me. with everything.  pain is the only thing that would bring me back. i would cut and burn and hit to feel it. to see it. to see and feel that i’m real. it would bring my anger back down. i would punch a wall so hard my hand would hurt, i would throw something so hard to where my shoulder would ache. pain is the only fucking way and now i can’t even do that. i need to relapse soon or i swear to god i’m gonna go fucking insane.”  

“changbin hyung says i can go to the gym with him, which i think i might do.”

jisung did nothing but gaze at you and listen until he was sure you were done. something he knew no one ever really did in your life.

when you finished and looked at him, he prepared his response.

“i know you hate it, but it’ll be worth it. eventually. and you have been nicer, to an extent.” han said and moved so he was sat next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“i’m pretty sure thats just how you are though.” he laughs. “and felix is right, in a way. you can still do something about it, it’ll just be healthy. it might feel like it doesn’t do anything but you just gotta get used to it and you will. it’s just gonna take time and this is the hardest part. you gotta put the effort in - you can’t just do something once and expect it to work overnight, you have to put work into it for it to have an affect on your life. something you do a lot is rely on other people.”

“oh but i thought-” you began.

jisung cut you off, knowing what he had said sounded harsh and knowing what you were going to say. ‘oh, but i thought you were ok with that’.

“you can rely on me all you want, that’s fine, as long as you know its not exactly heathy. but you can’t really do that with other people. i know pain has always been a big thing for you, has been since we met. but it’s not something that you should keep doing and you know it. do you think you’ll be able to trust yourself to work out with changbin without turning it into self-harm again?”

“i don’t know, thats why i haven’t gone with him yet. i think if i do it with someone else i would be able to. but probably not if i were to work out by myself.”

han sighed and went to say something but you didn’t let him.

“can we just go to sleep please? i’m so tired and i miss you.” you ask, your voice getting quiet.

“of course jagi.”

han moves behind you and spoons you as you both lay down.

you bury your face in his arms that encircle you.

“i love you. so much. so does chan, and felix, and everyone else in this dorm. just not as much as i do obviously.” han says quietly.

the last part of his sentence made you giggle.  

“you’re becoming yourself again. it might not feel like it yet, but i can see it in you.” han says and kisses your shoulder.

“i love you.” you whisper, kissing his hands as you both fall asleep.

[inquisitor-apologist]

Padmé is such a disappointing character in general, but one of the biggest missed opportunities with her character was that they didn’t explore the idea of her being 14 years old and the Queen of an entire planet at all. Like, in our world, no sane town would democratically elect a 14 year old to any position of even moderate authority, let alone a global leader and representative . It’s just absolutely insane, and if they’d actually worked with that and how that would’ve affected her character, it could’ve been really interesting and would’ve really helped explain the whole Anidala situation.

Maybe it’s the norm on Naboo to start working really early, and they somehow recognized Padmé’s political talents when she was, like, a baby. So she’s been raised and trained for politics her whole life, and she’s good at it! She loves it, it’s what she’s meant to do, it’s her calling… but it’s also so much. She’s been a brilliant political mind since she was 5, she’s never had any kind of childhood, she just kept going up and up and up the political ladder so fast that she’s never been able to have anything for herself. It’s all for her people, for her planet, for the Republic, every day, every minute, she’s working for everyone else 24/7, and it’s exhausting.

She wants a family, she wants to be able to settle down and live on her planet instead of for her planet, but she knows she’ll never be able to. Senators don’t have families, Queens don’t get a quiet life, Naboo politicians like Palpatine are serving well into their 80s, this is her entire life and it always will be, and she hates that. She does love what she does, it very much is what she wants to do, but she wishes it wasn’t all she did.

And then comes Anakin Skywalker, who gets it. Anakin’s also prodigiously talented and has so much responsibility on him. Qui-Gon literally told him when he was 9 that he was The Chosen One, the only Chosen One, the one person who could bring balance to the Force. Anakin knows what it’s like to have the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, he knows what it feels like to resent his purpose as much as he loves it. He understands this thing she’s repressed for so long, this quiet yearning for something else that she’s never told anyone.

She pushes him away at first—she’s scared of anyone knowing that about her. It’s one of her darkest secrets, and she feels so guilty about it. She thinks that if he sees that, he’ll think she’s just an ungrateful brat who doesn’t respect what she has, but Anakin doesn’t. He feels the exact same way, he understands her implicitly, and once they realize that they both want the same thing, there’s no going back. They fall fast and hard, and it’s perfect. The time she spends in hiding on Naboo with him is the happiest she’s been in years.

There’s the allure that they aren’t supposed to be doing this; Padmé can’t have a family for political reasons, and Anakin can’t for religious reasons. It feels like a quiet rebellion against the purposes that control their whole lives, this relationship that they’re not supposed to have or want, and it’s exhilarating. In that context, it’s super easy for her to put him on a pedestal—Anakin understands Padmé so easily, so effortlessly, he must agree with her, so of course he’s joking when he’s talking about dictatorship like it’s a good thing. He gets her, it’s fine.

Until it’s not. Until the Clovis arcs, where she suddenly realizes that he isn’t this perfect person who understands her completely, he’s human, and they disagree about a lot, actually. The last Clovis arc feels very much like an ‘oh shit’ moment for Padmé. This whole relationship was built on a fiction, and she’s just realizing it 3 years in. Then Padmé gets pregnant and she think it’ll save them—this is what they both wanted, a family for themselves, this’ll fix everything.

But it doesn’t. It just makes Anakin more possessive and afraid, and Padmé gets more and more frustrated, on and on until they snap. Anakin crosses lines for Padmé that she never wanted him to cross, he does everything for her and she doesn’t like it at all. By the end of Revenge of the Sith things have spiraled so much that they’re on a collision course, utterly incompatible. Anakin turns to the Dark Side and Padmé finally sees him for what he is and (ideally) goes to kill him. Anakin sees Padmé for what she is (not him), and kills her.

The tragedy is that they never loved each other, they loved themselves and how the other reflected them. Everything else was just pretend.

[kdsburneraccount]

Michael Jordan/Scottie Pippen for the ask game !! 😎✨

Yippee!! Toxic old man yaoi my beloved.

One thing abt me is that I will see nba duos and go “hm that needs to be a ship” so I think I was compelled by that. And ofc they won six championships together and then had a dramatic falling out which is a good reason to ship them.

Ok so apparently MJ was drafted a few years before Scottie was?? I think that sort of explains the dynamic of like Michael being the top dog and Scottie kind of being put into the sidekick role. Would assume they got along just fine in those formative years. Like they had respect for each other while on that ascension to greatness. It is interesting to see how Scottie has shifted his public opinion about Michael over the years, from admiration to publicly calling him a bad teammate. Idk what went on there, probably ego; it’s been said Michael is not one to apologize so maybe Scottie’s stubborn ass wants him to do so, in some kind of twisted sense. Men and their refusal to ever accept being wrong, or whatever.

The Last Dance probably caused a lot of stuff to open up and there was no turning back from there. The two year gap where Scottie was leading the bulls while Michael was having a mid life crisis probably would make for an interesting time to explore, wherein they realize they kind of need each other to succeed so after that period of tension they get back together for… you guessed it… a last dance (well, a couple championships before that). It probably sort of made Scottie a little resentful bc of the narrative that he couldn’t succeed without Michael even tho the Bulls were like fine with him as the main guy. But like he needs him! So they’re gonna win and Scottie will bury that part of himself and it’ll intermingle with his other more complicated feelings about wanting Michael in other ways. Even tho Michael Jordan is very much insane and Scottie isn’t even really sure if they are in “love,” at least in the conventional way.

I feel like a part of Scottie probably knows there is no getting to Michael at this point (men buying sports teams instead of getting therapy) but he still wants to out of some sense of pettiness. Like will they ever have that reconciliation arc idk (unless something drastic happens). However the narrative is still compelling to me bc those two are forever bounded together by their accomplishments together. Don’t think I have any unpopular opinions abt this ship I’m still sort of trying to figure out how exactly to characterize Michael 🤔 like he’s intense but probably not a sociopath in his interpersonal relationships (I think).

[starcanwrecked-confessions]

It always sorta worries me this fandom will get too big and that we’ll start having “large fandom issues”. So many new people who don’t know anything or are just getting into it and the veterans grow tired of them. I mean I don’t think this’ll happen, but I’m worried one day this fandom will just change. Like it’ll be less welcoming, to new and old fans.

I think I worry too much, we are a fairly small fandom but we’re very very passionate. I like that about us. Small but mighty. Then I think about how every new show brings in hundreds of new fans, how some people won’t be happy about how this new show isn’t Hatchetfield or that it’s not exactly what they think it should be. I’m worried this new show will cause a divide between us, I mean there already is one. There’s a side of the fandom who just wants to watch the Hatchetfield stuff, and that’s fine! I respect that of course. But also there will be fans who try and push those fans out because they only like Hatchetfield, how they don’t support starkids other shows.

We’ve given so much to the kickstarter already, it’s insane. I fear that this show won’t be what people expect, that it won’t live up to its high expectations. It seems like this is going to be another world that will be brought to life over the course of multiple shows, now starkid has two universes going at once and what happens when the fandom gets split like that? Not all Hatchetfield fans are going to the Lands That Are, and those new fans or old fans who may not like Hatchetfield won’t be stepping foot in there either. So if they’re splitting their attention while also trying to keep everyone engaged then what happens?

I feel like there are going to be a lot of people who compare this musical to tgwdlm later on. The start of a new world for starkid and all. For a show we know very little about I think it’s crazy how there’s already discourse. Headcanons for characters we hardly know. I love seeing them, don’t get me wrong. I love watching this fandom be so excited, it’s thrilling. I just worry that the fandom will be sorta divided after this new show

I’m rambling, this has just been on my mind I guess. I love this fandom, I love it a lot. I like the way things are now, this in between period where npmd is slowly fading from the forefront and CC is coming in to take its place as the new exciting show. its a great time to be a starkid fan, I hope things stay this way

~~~

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

!!!!00:00!!!! 🥳🎈🎁🎂🎉

my most precious little mouse! it's midnight where i am and that means it's OUR MOST BELOVED CEO OF MICE'S BIRTHDAY!!!! another year around the sun. happy birthday to you!!!! i'm so proud of you. spending the last near year getting to know you and watch you grow into your interests has been such a delight. i love you so so so so so so so so so much. i can hardly contain it! i've been so lucky to find you n spend time with you. you've introduced me to life changing works 🙂‍↕️ i'm convinced you're part sun!!! the way you make everywhere you go shine. one thing i miss so much about being here is seeing ari rambles. anywho, i'm oh so proud of the person you are! who you've been! who you're becoming!!!!! your twenties will be a happy mess of moments n i so hope you enjoy/find endless value in them all!!!! please enjoy your day so fucking much!!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH CEO N CHAIRMICE 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡 WE ALL DO!!!!! a true poet!!! an inspiration n a delight. i can't properly put in words how much you mean to me 🫂 squeezing you tight!!! never ever ever letting you go.

WITH EVERY DROP OF MY LOVE!!!!

io 🤍

:((((((((((((((( IOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I MISS YOU SO MUCH . this fully made me cry btw. i don’t even know what to say you just mean so much to me and i’m so lucky to have gotten to know you ;;;; i miss you every day . i feel like a widow . 😭😭 i don’t want you to come back to tumblr if it’ll impact your mental health in a bad way but i hope you know i’ll always be here waiting in case you come back, no matter what 🥹 you’re one of the people i’m closest to on this site and talking to you has always been so much fun …… you’re a literal angel and i’ll never stop being grateful that you let me into your space :’3

wah . i’m already getting so sappy ;;;;; but i really do mean it ….. i love you……. thank you so much for your bday wishes my actual angel there are tears in my eyes as i’m typing this :’))) i could NEVER explain how much you mean to me and how soothing your presence has been on days i’ve been feeling sad or lonely :((((((( if i’m part sun then you have to be part moon because just you being around makes me feel so at home . and so comfortable. i hope you always always remember how loved you are by me and so many others!!!!!! how insanely talented you are, how much you’ve inspired us (and me in particular)…… okay so i might be crying again that’s fine i’m fine

SORRY I KNOW I’M ACTING LIKE YOU’RE DEAD LMAO i just . miss you so bad :’)))))) pls smile a lot. and eat tasty food . and pet your dogs. pls know there is a mouse who is cheering you on for every second of the day. pls know you are loved by me!!!!

squeezing you SOOOOOO tightly until the end of time……. until the stars go out ………… my most belovedest io . mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah

^ every time i see this picture i think of you!!!!! i like the idea that even if i end up leaving tumblr years in the future i’ll stumble upon it and remember all our talks <33

[the-boy-meets-evil]

tell me how it got this way | ch.5

pairing: jungkook x f.reader, hoseok x f.reader genre: fwb to lovers/friends to lovers, love triangle | angst, smut, fluff | non-idol!au chapter rating: mature, minors dni warnings: drinking, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), jimin is a little shit (affectionate), swearing, i think that's it word count: ~6k a/n: other idols pop up in this chapter (ateez & seventeen), they're really just used as names. ages aren't relevant and you can assume they're all generally around the same age. the final part (at least for what i have planned) is also finished and i'm going to post that next week! prev | masterlist | next

When Namjoon had initially pitched the idea of selling the movie rights for your books, your answer was immediate. No. Movies rarely, actually, came out as good as the books and you felt like you lost so much of the finer detail. If you had wanted to see your work on the big screen, you would be writing screenplays instead of full-length novels. Which, okay, that sounded pretentious even in your head, but whatever. Namjoon got the picture and the conversation was tabled temporarily.

About two months after that, Namjoon had found what he called a compromise. You weren’t sure how it was a compromise since it was your work and you didn’t want to sell the rights. Until Namjoon reminded you that the publishing company also had a stake. Point: Namjoon. It was a good point, though, because a streaming service wanted to pick up the rights to just the first book as a test and do a limited-run series as opposed to a movie. Namjoon was very clear on the differences here. The budget, in some ways, would definitely be smaller, you aren’t looking at big superstar names, and, most importantly, you have to either sign on as a co-writer for the screenplays or fully sign the rights over. They were fine with either option, they just knew that there wasn’t enough in your book for the standard 8-10 episodes.

And that answer was just as immediate. Yes. These were the kinds of chances that authors hoped for. Yes, it will still be different from the book. This just gives you much more leeway to include the important details and even flush characters out more in a way that’s just too much for a book. You’re not Stephen King over here releasing his “unedited” version of The Stand, which, if you’re being honest, was kind of (read: insanely) self-indulgent. Not that you’re comparing yourself to Stephen King, either. To each their own and all that.

So, with Namjoon’s guidance, you signed a deal where you’d co-write the episodes with a team who actually have a lot of experience doing just that. Really, you know you’re just there to keep everything true to the world that’s lived in your head for years. That’s why they want you. Some people will stumble onto this show never having heard of the books (and Namjoon hopes it’ll make them buy a copy), but others will tune in expecting it to come off the same way they’ve been imagining, for characters to make decisions that feel authentic. 

You actually kind of loved the writing sessions. It was really amazing to see how things came together and to be in a room where you didn’t need to shout to be heard. Everyone there was genuinely interested in your feedback, and you tried to be conscious of when to just let the process unfold. It was collaborative in the best way. The only hard thing was keeping it all under wraps from almost everyone. The whole team had decided that they wouldn’t announce the news until the rough copies of the scripts were finished enough to move on to casting.

Now, that you’re having to sit through casting auditions, you’re rethinking your entire life that has led to this moment. No, that is not dramatic. You gave the casting team literal pages on pages for every character that needed to have any sort of significant role in the show and had even worked with someone for fucking *mood boards* for the main characters. There were days when you barely slept because you had to churn things out for casting. All so you could turn the rough scripts into final copies. What else did they want from you? 

To sit through casting calls, apparently. So fine. You can eat craft services with the best of them.

After a few days, you do start to see the point in it all, see the times when the casting team liked two people for a particular part and looked to you as the deciding factor. While it felt like a lot of pressure, it also allowed you to make sure everything felt right. It was never just about physical appearance, that was always fluid. You also didn’t want Kristen Stewart in the Twilight movies with one damn expression the entire time. (No shade to Kristen Stewart, it just wasn’t anyone’s best look in those movies).

The one positive is that you’ve managed to meet a few people you actually kind of like. And, okay, yeah, they’re mostly assistants to some of the more important people in the process, but those people are stuffy and very unlikely to gossip with you around the water cooler. Since you’ve never had a normal office job, this is a very important part of actually getting to work with people. Namjoon scoffs a lot at this, says that it’s probably good that you haven’t had a normal office job. He spends a lot of time letting you know actual office jobs aren’t anything like sitcoms, which is funny considering the office where he works. Maybe he doesn’t gossip around the water cooler, but you’ve definitely seen the assistants gathering. Even heard his name come up a time or two. Heard how attractive they all seem to think he is. They’re not wrong.

Your new friends are also the type of people who insist that you absolutely have to join them when they decide happy hour is the perfect way to end the day. As San points out, you have the morning off tomorrow anyway. When you ask why it would matter if it was just happy hour, Wooyoung promptly elbows San hard in the ribs and says it doesn’t. You don’t miss the conspiratorial look on their faces, but fuck it. Happy hour sounds good.

Your head is pounding and it feels like you got hit by a freight train. You don’t even remember getting that drunk the night before. The whole evening is kind of a blur of shots and bright lights and off-key karaoke. It was just supposed to be happy hour, which you learned quickly was your first mistake. There was no such thing as just happy hour with San, Wooyoung, and their insanely chaotic group of friends. And as the sleep is wearing off, something else creeps in. There is an arm draped over you. You’re not alone in your bed. Peeking one eye open, you’re immediately struck with the fact that these aren’t your walls, not your sheets, this isn’t your bed. You’re praying on everything that you don’t believe in that the arm belongs to one of the other people you’d gone out with the night before. You remember thinking one of Wooyoung’s friends was cute and tall and smiley, a little flirty and a little shy too. And then you see the hands. And the rings. With a careful glance back, you confirm it’s Hoseok, shirtless (you don’t need to check if it’s wearing anything else).

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It’s rushing back. You quickly learned San and Wooyoung had no intention of letting you go after just happy hour. They were all convinced you were too stressed and that what you really needed was a patented WooSan (yes, they had a couple name, despite not actually being in a relationship) night of fun. You briefly considered protesting, but really, what was the point? And fuck, they weren’t wrong.

So happy hour turned into multiple stops. Wooyoung was on a karaoke mission and although you had never heard him sing, you instinctively thought drunken karaoke was never a good idea. (You were wrong, he had the voice of an angel to match his personality of the devil.) Karaoke meant meeting up with more of their friends. And somehow, because fate was cruel, one of their friends had brought along his friend Hoseok. You remember staring at him like a deer in headlights before declaring everything was fine and hitting the shots. There also may have been a lot of flirting with Wooyoung’s tall friend with the shy smile whose name you couldn’t remember.

Now, in the light of day, it was not fine. You gingerly slide out from underneath his arm and carefully get out of the bed, tiptoeing over to what you can only hope and assume is a bathroom, phone snatched off the nightstand on the way. You’re thanking drunk you for not making it harder to find.

Once you’re in the safety of the bathroom, you sink down to the floor and take a couple of breaths. You’re not sure if it’s the hangover rearing its ugly head or just the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You: Yoongi are you up? You: Please be up, I need you! You: This is important! Like one of those most important things in the world.

Yoongi isn’t answering and you’re starting to panic. You need someone to talk you through this. So you call him, knowing that it might get his attention. The first call goes to voicemail and so you try again. This time after the second ring you hear him grunt a frustrated “what?” and then hang up.

Yoongi: What the fuck? You call twice and hang up on me? You: Because I need you

Missed call from Yoongi

Yoongi: Then answer the fucking phone You: I *can’t* You: Yoongi, I fucked up, like really fucked up Yoongi: What’s going on? You: I went out drinking last night and ugh I did something really fucking stupid Yoongi: Whatever it is, it’s not that serious You: I just woke up next to Hobi… You: Like I’m in fucking university again Yoongi: … Yoongi: I’m going back to bed, you’re being dramatic You: I’m *not* this is SERIOUS Yoongi: It’s not that serious You: I’ve spent 5 years trying to get over the way he treated me, so yeah it’s a big deal Yoongi: it’s just drunken sex and I’m tired You: oh my god, give the phone to Jimin Yoongi: Just text him You: Yoongi, please

You stare at the phone and try to figure out what else to say when the screen lights up again.

Yoongi: I have a very grumpy boyfriend You: Jimin, thank god Yoongi (Jimin): what is it my little problem child? You: Just read up Yoongi (Jimin): You bitch, you went out and got drunk and didn’t invite me? You: Jimin can we focus please? Yoongi (Jimin): Who did you go out with? You: Is this really the time? Yoongi (Jimin): I’m waiting You: Fuck Jimin, just some people that are working on the show You: Now can we please talk about this colossal mistake? Yoongi (Jimin): I’ll be there to pick you up and take your hungover ass to get breakfast, which is more than you deserve since you went out WITHOUT ME You: Thank you and I will never go out without inviting you again Yoongi (Jimin): Better

You’ve taken way too long in the bathroom and you know there’s a chance Hoseok will be awake now. But you can’t bring yourself to leave the bathroom until you get the text from Jimin that he’s downstairs. Bless him for being an absolute angel, even when it’s his horns keeping the halo upright. 

Despite being a colossal pain in the ass about nearly everything in life, Jimin does actually come through and take you to one of the best meals you’ve ever had. Or maybe you’re just that hungover. You don’t really know. He’s also somehow managed to bring you a change of clothes (which, you’re not really sure if they’re actually yours or where they came from, but the outfit looks remarkably put together) and makeup so you don’t have to go all the way home. You try to ask why he’s so prepared and he only gives a vague answer about how you didn’t know him before Yoongi and smirks. You’re immediately filing that away for another day when you do remember to invite Jimin out to drink with you and whatever group you’ve been dragged into. 

When Jimin drops you off at the studio (another point to Jimin) where your car is still conveniently parked from the night before, you’re feeling and looking significantly more human. You know you owe him, he doesn’t have to say it. But he’s Park Jimin so he says it anyway and you just smile.

The auditions feel a little less tedious with a stomach full of greasy food the day after a much-needed night out (where you will be pretending that you did not fuck Hoseok again). You’re looking for some more minor characters today. If things go well and you end up doing a second season based on the second book, they could play a much bigger role. For now, though, it’s still small.

Realistically, you’re not hungry because Jimin really did hook you up. Then again, the food is there and it’s free, so you’re looking over to decide what you might actually want to try. Someone approaches the other side of the table, looking tentative. You immediately recognize him as one of the guys you pointed out as fitting the right look for one of your characters. He was sweet, kind of endearing, but with really striking features.

“Hey, I just wanted to introduce myself,” he says and you look up. “I’m Chan.”

“I remember,” you say and you’re being honest. You were insistent that he be kept around to audition.

“Wow, I didn’t think…well that’s great. I’m excited to get the chance. Thank you so much,” Chan says and you realize this might be a big deal for him.

“No problem, you just remind me of him,” you say.

“I was talking to my dance teacher before the first audition,” Chan starts and you raise an eyebrow. “Oh, I know this isn’t a dancing part, I just like to take the classes.”

“That’s fair,” you say.

“And I was really worried about the audition and how it would go,” Chan says. “But my dance teacher, he’s awesome, he said he had gone to school with you and used to be friends with you and all that and that you were really nice.”

That one statement brought you up completely short. What the fuck?

“Who’s your dance teacher?” You already know the answer because really, who else could it be? Still, you need to hear him say it.

“Oh, Jung Hoseok,” Chan says quickly and you force a smile. “Do you remember him? He gave me all this great advice about the audition and said he’d try to reach out to you if it made me feel better. He’s so nice.”

“Yeah, he was. It’s been ages since I’ve spoken to him though,” you say, hoping that you succeed in the attempt at nonchalance. 

“Yeah, he said that. I think he was just trying to help me feel better, offering to reach out,” Chan agrees. “I get it though. You’ve had so much success as a writer, so it makes sense you wouldn’t still talk to everyone from college. It’s so cool they’re turning your book into a series and you’re so young!”

“I feel like I’ve been writing for like 20 years with how much it ages me sometimes,” you say to distract yourself from thinking of Hoseok.

“I actually…read all the books when they came out, I’m a big fan,” Chan says and blushes like it’s embarrassing to admit. You think it’s sweet. One of the PAs calls out for you, though.

“Good luck today, Chan. It’s been really great speaking to you,” you say and excuse yourself.

Honestly, you can’t believe the audacity of fucking Jung Hoseok to say what he had to this poor kid. Playing it off like he knows you, making it seem like you just used to be friends. And what was he thinking, offering to reach out to you on behalf of this kid?

That’s when a truly sickening thought settles into your brain. Takes root in a way that you know you can’t shake it. One of those intrusive thoughts that shouldn’t ever exist. Was that what this all was? Is this why he reached out? Does he just want to help one of his dancers get a role in your new series? That would be seriously fucked up if that was the case. And you hate thinking he could be capable of something like that. The reality is that you used to know Hoseok, while the guy who wrecked you was a complete stranger and there’s no way of knowing which one had shown up now.

The rest of the day is kind of a wash from a concentration standpoint. You’re a million miles away and thankfully, nobody seems to call you on it. You’re not sure if it’s because they’ve worked with writers before that had their heads in the clouds or because you’re still answering all the questions asked of you. Either way, you’re not really there at all. 

Over the next day or so, you decide the best way forward is to continue ignoring Hoseok (despite him texting you multiple times wanting to talk about what happened after karaoke). Instead of talking to Hoseok, you do the completely rational thing and talk to every other person you trust. How can you decide on the next move without multiple opinions? 

You can’t.

Yoongi is first up and he’s exceptionally grumpy since you woke him up before he was ready to be a person. It may not have been that early by normal human standards, but Yoongi is only part human and part gremlin, you think, so he’s never really followed normal hours. Once he’s done being grumpy, he takes his time being thoughtful. As far as he sees it, this was just some drunken sex. It isn’t like Hoseok actually asked for anything, that you remember. And you insist you remember everything from the night.  For all you know, it was just stress relief for both of you. No point in getting worked up.

Since Jimin is there and incapable of being ignored, he also gets to weigh in. Which is welcome, actually, because Jimin can be really calculating when he wants to be. He asks a lot of questions, both about the guy you were friends with and the fight that ended it all. You’re just about ready to call this conversation a day when Jimin says he doesn’t think it sounds like something malicious. There’s only one way to know for sure, though, and he suggests that you just talk to Hoseok like an adult with multiple published books and a streaming deal. There’s Park Jimin for you.

Part of you wants to ask Namjoon, but thinks better of it. The Affair incident is fresh in your mind and you really don’t need to give him another reason to question your sanity. There are enough of those just in everyday life. And you just had to relive the entire fight with Jimin so you’re not too eager to explain all the backstory to Namjoon.

Which makes the final person you ask Jungkook. His opinion is so incredibly important to you, yet it’s the one that you’re least excited about getting. It means you also have to tell him about sleeping with Hoseok, a fact that you have carefully avoided. Not that you owe Jungkook every detail of your life, because you’re not actually in a relationship. It’s just that, sometimes, with how much you depend on each other, it feels like something more. Feels like it’s much more than just some friends-with-benefits type situation. 

In true Jungkook fashion, he takes the news in stride and doesn’t linger on you fucking this stranger that reappeared at the Gala and hasn’t seemed to go away since then. He’s thoughtful, Hoseok has come up a lot in your conversations lately, so he doesn’t have to ask questions like Jimin. And you tell him how frustrating it was to answer them, anyway. There’s no escaping it when Jungkook comes to the same conclusion, though. 

“Just talk to him,” Jungkook urges, “you’ll feel so much better being able to gauge his answer.”

“I’m really sorry,” you say and Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow at that. 

“For what?” he asks.

“Getting drunk and making a stupid fucking mistake by fucking him,” you answer, avoiding his eyes. 

“It’s really not a big deal for you and me,” Jungkook says.

“Are you sure?” you ask. You hate how small your voice sounds.

Jungkook closes the space between you and kisses the top of your head. “I’m sure. I’m here for whatever you need.”

This brings you to texting Hoseok.

And that brings you to sit down in a coffee shop with him, because apparently you can’t just text or go to each other’s apartment, like normal people. Which is nice too, actually, because it gives you a chance to see more of the city than just your apartment or the studio where you’ve been working. It allows you to people watch, see those rushing by in a haze mingled with those taking their time. Let’s your overactive imagination come up with a story for each of them. 

You still aren’t even sure if you want to forgive Hoseok for everything that happened all those years ago. And with all the writing sessions and casting calls, you haven’t exactly had a lot of time to even think, let alone talk to anyone outside of your small circle. Which isn’t totally out of character, you’ve never been one for a huge circle of friends or social engagements. It just makes everything a little more complicated now as you’re trying to sort out feelings. 

Hoseok beat you to the coffee shop this time, seemingly by a bit since he’s going to get his second cup just after you sit down. You spare a passing thought that maybe he’s nervous about talking to you. He certainly seems like he is. Weirdly it makes you less nervous. It makes you feel somehow more in control of the situation because you do know what you want to say.

“So,” Hoseok begins after he sits back down, “about the other night…”

“Actually, that isn’t exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,” you say, watching his eyes go wide.

“What?” he stutters out.

“I mean, I guess it’s kind of related? But also not,” you say. “I met Lee Chan at a casting call the other day.”

Whatever Hoseok was expecting, it’s not this. He tries to connect the dots for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Okay? He’s a great kid, I’m glad he decided to go to the auditions after all.”

“That’s it?” You’re watching him for a reaction that just isn’t there. Maybe, despite The Fight, he’s still more or less the person you were friends with.

“I’m not sure what else to say about him,” Hoseok admits.

“Okay, cards on the table,” you say with a confidence you don’t entirely feel. “Did you show back up in my life to help your student get a part in my series?”

Hoseok chokes on his drink when the question comes out, turns into a coughing mess and takes a minute to clear his throat. “What the fuck? Is that what you think? Come on, you know me…”

“I don’t though, do I? Not anymore,” you disagree and there’s finally an emotion on his face that you can place: hurt. He’s hurt and you’re not sure how to feel about that. Your feelings about him are still so mixed up. A big part of you wants to comfort him, though. Which isn’t exactly the response you’d expected.

“Maybe I deserve that, but it still hurts,” Hoseok says. You chew your bottom lip while you think.

“It hurt to have the thought it was possible too, trust me,” you say. “But it was weird timing, you know? Chan introduced himself during his second audition, later the same day I woke up in your bed.”

“I would never sleep with you to help a student get something out of it,” Hoseok says earnestly. “I’d never sleep with you to get anything out of it.”

“I want to believe that,” you admit.

“I had no idea that you’d be there. Another guy from the studio who teaches but also takes my master classes is friends with your friends that invited you out. He asked if I wanted to come out, I wasn’t busy, so I figured why not?” Hoseok explains. “And then I wake up and you’re gone.”

“Hoseok,” you say, a quiet warning.

“Actually, I wake up and you’re sneaking out without saying anything,” he amends. 

“I needed to not be there,” you say because it’s all you can say.

“I get that, I know you’re seeing someone, but we needed to talk about it,” Hoseok says.

“Yeah, Jungkook knows,” you say and feel your heart constrict a bit at the way Hoseok pales.

“What?” Hoseok asks. When you don’t say anything, he continues. “Please tell me you’re kidding, he looks like he could kick my ass and barely break a sweat.”

“He would never,” you disagree. “My…relationship, if you wanna call it that, with Jungkook isn’t exactly what you think? Like he’s not my boyfriend, we’re not exclusive or anything like that.”

“But you let me think you were?” He doesn’t look upset, just confused if anything.

“Yeah, I know,” you say and he’s still watching you carefully. “It was just easier and honestly, I didn’t feel like I owed you an explanation for my personal life after all these years.”

“I - yeah, okay, I guess I have to respect that,” Hoseok agrees. “But we still need to talk.”

“I’m not ready,” you say immediately, try not to feel anything when he deflates. 

“I guess I just thought…since you asked to meet me,” Hoseok says, trailing off.

“I needed to know if you really just did that for a student,” you offer.

“You believe that I didn’t, right? That I wouldn’t?” Hoseok asks with so much hope that you’re not sure you can take it.

“I do, yeah,” you say. You’ve barely had time to process, but you know you do believe he wouldn’t do that. It’s about all you know when it comes to him now.

“I really do need you to know how sorry I am,” Hoseok says and you start to open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Please, you don’t have to say anything, just let me say this? Please?”

He looks so much younger, so vulnerable for a moment. All you do is nod.

“I know sorry isn’t what you need to hear, I get that. I know that I can’t go back and change that fight and all the fucking stupid shit that I said. Stuff that I didn’t mean. And I do hear you that you’re not ready. I just want you to know that I’m so sorry,” Hoseok says.

You let out your breath. “I do know that Hobi, at least on some level.” 

“I’ve, well I’ve done a lot of thinking about that day. I talked to a lot of people, both friends and a therapist, actually. There aren’t any excuses for what I did, no matter what was going on in my head. If I’ve learned anything over the past few years, it’s definitely that. So I want to make sure you know that when you are ready, if you’re ever ready, I won’t make any excuses. What happened was entirely my fault and I completely acknowledge that,” he says, so earnestly. 

“I appreciate that,” you say because it’s all you really can think up.

This was supposed to clear your head up, which it has in some ways. You feel a little silly for even thinking that Hoseok would do something like sleep with you to help get someone he only kind of knows a role in a TV series. And you’re also questioning your friends since none of them pointed out you were having a full breakdown over a man. Not your finest moment. 

But with that one, small thing cleared up, your mind immediately goes back to the bigger issue: Hoseok has reappeared in your life and you really need to figure out how you feel about that. You’ve missed him, of course. You’re not going to deny that very obvious truth. On top of that, you also very clearly have some sort of feelings for him. After all, you’re not stupid college kids anymore. It’s not like you can pretend the sex was meaningless. 

Hoseok, showing some definite growth from your college days, accepts it when you say that you just can’t talk about all the very real things you need to right now. Accepts it when you say that you believe him but you have to go. Accepts that you’re running late for something. The only problem is that you’re not running late. It’s not like you actually planned for after your talk with him. It was too much to even think about how the conversation was going to go.

Now it’s over, though, and you don’t really want to go home to be alone with your thoughts. One of the few times that you don’t like that you live alone. Don’t like that you don’t have a built-in person that can just be there without you having to explain what you’re feeling or that you don’t want to be alone. Which is when your brain goes to Jungkook. He’s become that person that you go to when you don’t want to be alone or when you need to get out of your own head.

Except you’re not really sure that’s fair to him. Not really sure if seeing him right now is going to help you. Since the Gala, he’s been nothing but supportive and understanding. This is too much, though, isn’t it? Sure, you and he have never really wanted to bother labeling things, both just happy with the way things are. Things have naturally kind of evolved, but you haven’t stopped to talk about any of it. Sure, Jungkook always assures you that it’s fine, that he’s happy to be there whenever you need him. 

The healthiest thing to do is go home and actually try to sort out your feelings. The second healthiest thing to do would be to call Yoongi and tell him that you actually need to talk to him (which you do, desperately, need his help). 

None of the healthy options include texting Wooyoung to see if he’s got any plans that night. The healthy ways to process definitely don’t include agreeing to go out for happy hour knowing full well what that means with Wooyoung. At least this time, you invite Jimin to avoid one disaster.

(Jimin agrees to come and agrees to your terms that he’s not allowed to ask if you’re okay or if you want to talk. Agrees that he won’t tell Yoongi even if he thinks you’re making reckless decisions. He also finds a way to tell Wooyoung’s friend not to invite Hoseok this time without outing you. When you’re sober, you’ll probably thank Jimin. Maybe. There is always his ego to consider.)

“I feel like I’ve seen you around somewhere,” San muses, looking at Jimin.

Jimin just smiles his most mischievous smile and shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “Probably.”

“Jimin is one of my best friends, he’s been by the studio a few times,” you say when it’s clear Jimin isn’t going to provide any more context. He sighs and rolls his eyes dramatically.

“I’m also dating her platonic soulmate, so she’s stuck with me,” Jimin adds and you snort.

“Is that what we’re calling Yoongi these days?” you ask. Jimin smiles a real smile, eyes crinkling. 

“Honestly, yes, your friendship with him is so sweet, it makes me sick,” Jimin says with nothing but affection. 

San seems satisfied and Wooyoung just looks enamored by anything Jimin says. Which is actually kind of cute because you can tell he’s not even interested in Jimin like that, just genuinely wants to be his friend. And you definitely get that. Jimin is one of the sweetest, most charismatic people that you know. Yes, he can be a devious little shit, but when he’s like this, it’s impossible to not like him. 

That’s just kind of how the night goes. Thankfully, it’s not quite as crazy as the last time you went out with this group. You learn the tall guy’s name is Mingi and for some reason, he seems weirdly shy around you. It’s cute and he’s incredibly sweet. Jimin fits in seamlessly, which isn’t a surprise to you with how many times you’ve seen him like this. 

What is a surprise, though, is that Jimin keeps demanding you get up and dance with him. Since, of course, happy hour turned into going someplace else. It wasn’t just Jimin that wanted to dance and now you were just along for the ride. He also insisted that you were a safe choice to dance with and also gave you a sob story about how Yoongi would never dance with him at the club. 

(Probably true, crowds and people and this kind of thing were definitely not Yoongi’s first or second or even last choice. It’s also true that Jimin is a really amazing dancer and you’re a little intimidated by him. You’re also, thankfully, just buzzed enough to not really care.)

It’s the early hours of the morning when you finally head home, feeling a lot lighter than you had after leaving Hoseok. In fact, you haven’t checked your messages since meeting up with Jimin, Wooyoung, San, and the others. There’s something freeing about just putting everything on Do Not Disturb and enjoying the moment. 

By the time you get out of the car at your apartment, the alcohol haze is already wearing off. Which ends up being a good thing when you open your door to see someone sitting on your couch. There’s a half second of panic, of your brain calculating fight or flight, before you realize that it’s just Jungkook. Sitting on your couch, watching TV like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Jesus Christ, Jungkook,” you say, hand on your chest like you’re about to die. A little overdramatic, maybe, but your brain is still a little hazy around the edges. 

“Sorry,” he says, eyes immediately going comically wide. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” 

“No, it’s fine,” you say as you toe off your shoes and drop your keys and bag on the table by the door. 

“I really am sorry,” he says. It’s easy to believe when he looks that bashful. “I don’t even know why I came over. I just, well I texted you after I got out of my shoot to see how things went and you didn’t answer.”

“Oh yeah, I went out for drinks with Jimin and some friends from the set,” you say and Jungkook nods. 

“Yeah, he actually texted me,” Jungkook admits and you just chuckle. Of course he did, you think. “But I was already on my way over here and your apartment is more comfortable than mine. I can leave though?” 

“No, it’s fine, it’s late,” you say as you collapse on the couch with him. “One rule, though.” 

“What?” he asks.

“I don’t wanna talk about the conversation with Hobi right now,” you say quietly as you nestle into Jungkook’s side.

You miss the way that he tenses for a minute at the way the old nickname falls so easily from your lips. Miss the way it takes his arms a minute to wrap around you. Miss the way his face falls a little at you not wanting to talk to him about something. 

“Of course, whatever you need,” Jungkook says. 

You don’t hear the way his voice sounds a little hollow, a little less animated than it usually does. He wants to mean it, wants to keep being there for you however you need him. It’ll be fine, he tells himself. He can do this. 

all of them are kinda going through it right now, but please let me know your thoughts <3

[crownedtargaryen]

i will be posting soon! i haven’t been posting due to the reasons listed below. i have aegon angst being written, but i really wish to write a daemon oneshot soon.

TW: refusal to eat, body dysphoria, mentions of car crash

truth be told i’ve been feeling sick and refusing to eat for the past few days due to body dysphoria and being unhappy with the weight i’ve gained. i feel insanely disgusting and i’ve grown emotionally unavailable and unhappy with myself in general which thus leads to lack of motivation and in turn i don’t give you guys content. i literally feel like i’m abta die that’s how bad my stomach hurts but i know it’ll pass and i’ll be fine. all of this on top of my grandpa getting into an insane wreck in his race car. he’ll be fine but his car got totaled and it was def a traumatizing video to watch.

i’ll get back to writing soon, i swear. too much is happening currently and i can barely keep myself healthy enough to stay functioning. i’ve been sleeping a lot less and on the verge of passing out daily but up unable to genuinely sleep (today i took two naps and i still feel like my body isn’t rested enough.) i just hope my brain can stop being rude so i can provide something for you all. i don’t want to post once every blue moon but life has gone so downhill. 🥹 i love you all so so much.

[the-phantom-author]

it’ll take me a while to fully digest TTPD because it’s a LOT (probably my favorite album of hers, besting reputation which says a lot because that’s always been my number one) but just a few things about popstar!gf right now.

this was an excruciatingly honest look into her brain and it seems like a lot of people can’t handle it. they think it’s too much and the general public isn’t going to really look into what her lyrics mean. it was really brave of her to put this out into the world while being at some of her lowest times and now at her highest with hasan. this album is for people who want to understand her. her true fans and a good chunk of hasanabi heads are with her and supportive.

she’s feeling really vulnerable. she had let hasan hear a few songs before it’s official release but she wanted him to experience it altogether. so when it’s officially out, they’re laying on his couch alone in the house. just the album on, for two hours they lay together and listen. hasan is immediately overwhelmed because 1. he’s proud to be with someone who is so intelligent and turns her own life and struggles into something beautiful and poetic 2. he knew a lot about the bad times she was having and continued to have while they were just friends but he didn’t really understand. listening took his understanding of her to a whole new level. 3. he’s heartbroken that any person would treat her the way she’s been treated but also has to appreciate how strong she is and she’s on the other side of that now. he assures her he hopes to never ever treat her like that. he is careful with his words, avoids saying “i’ll never” or “i’ll always” because that might feel a bit scary and like an empty promise but he’s there for her.

she’s really in her own head the next few days, just writing a lot in her journal. she’s also been on twitter which is NEVER a good thing. she knows how great the album is going, her team has been keeping her in the loop, she’s breaking records. but actual people? her seeing their own opinions and people’s think pieces, a lot of it being negative, hits her in a certain way. she tries to not focus on the negative but it’s like a little nagging feeling she can’t shake off. it’s starting to eat at her. her journal entries are going to become a bit sadder and also more idgaf what anyone thinks, i’m damn proud of this album. if people think im on the news so much, if im doing too much, fine. you won’t see me.

but the positive right now is that all of her friends and family and all of hasan’s are super proud of her and think she’s done something truly incredible. although hasan tries to get her to go on fear& she won’t, but she’s appreciative of hearing from will and qt and austin and more that they think she’s an insanely talented artist.

she’s just kind of in a weird place. she has a tour planned but of the public opinion of her is going down quickly… she’s afraid she might just cancel the whole thing. she cancels interviews and appearances. she just needs some time to be with herself and hasan, friends and family. away from the public eye. maybe she will return soon. but maybe the public will continue to come crashing down on her and force her into living completely out of view.

The way it'll take me like a month to listen through the album. But I definitely say that it's going to up in my favorites, folklore is one hell of an album.

Not only does the general public think it's too much, it's too honest, it's too intimate, it's too long, it's simply too much. They also don't like how big of a change it it from what they know of her. She is a pop princess, Red and Guts have firmly put her in that position. However TTPD, is such a departure from her previous albums that a lot of people who aren't her fans don't like. Heaven forbid a female singer have a diverse sound. And some of her "fans" only like the pop music she makes and then not getting any of it, makes them very upset.

But as you where saying, it's a very vulnerable album, and she knows it. I can see them on the couch, or even the bed, she's resting her head on his shoulder, his arm over her, as she fiddles with his rings. While they listen to it together.

This is the start of Hasan's adventures into figuring out the delicate balance of giving her all the reassurance that she needs (which is a lot), but not saying the wrong things (which is basically anything to do with the words "forever, never, and I promise).

Hasan is always on a process of gaining respect for her. He has always had a great deal of it, but the more he knows about her the more his respect grows. Like yours so talented and smart, and capable, but no one should be treated the way.

I can imagine after getting done listening to it neither really know what to say, she wants to make sure that Hasan gets the chance to take it on without her influencing his opinion in any way. And he was to make sure she knows how much he's not going to pick up their relationship, but can't quite get the wording right. He just holds her tighter.

[rianafying]

had a rlly rough start to today. was up by 9:30 which is a decent time to wake up, considering my sleep schedule has been as over the place this week. i woke up to a text from someone i worked with recently pointing out a mistake i had made, and as awful as it initially made me feel, i gathered myself, apologised and explained the situation etc. i felt terrible, like i do when even the slightest thing goes wrong. i’m always anticipating failure anyway, and besides i knew about the mistake, it just that it’s mostly beyond my control. i have very limited resources. anyway, yeah they responded by saying this doesn’t affect us working together and that he’s more than interested in continuing to work with me, just that he thought it was important to discuss so we could have it in mind moving forward, which i really appreciate. but the part in me that loves to be anxious and think the worst of myself, is trying to take this opportunity to make me sink back into a spiral, but i know it’s not that deep, people make mistakes, and it has already been resolved. i don’t need to worry about it. worry is my worst enemy. even things that shouldn’t cause concern make me sweat from concern. i can’t take it easy i can’t sit back and relax, i live inside a personal hell. there is no rest from this madness. i need a fucking break. i’m exhausted. from the moment i wake up to crying myself to sleep and even in sleep i have nightmares everyday, i wake up exhausted from being anxious in my sleep all night. for the past few years i have been exhausted, i have been feeling like i’m going crazy. i am going crazy. oh god there’s so much stuff. i feel as if i will never see success in my career, i will never be independent, i will never recover from my past, i will never see peace and safety, i feel like i will spend my whole life worrying and grieving and suffering, even in my deathbed, i’ll be plagued with anxiety. and im so lonely, not in a i don’t have friends way, i do have amazing friends, but im lonely in the way that everyone is lonely sometimes. in the way that in this world we have ourselves. lonely in the way that nobody will know exactly what it’s like to live how i live, feel what i feel, or what i’m thinking. nobody will understand me the way i do, and i have to use my words to communicate it, to try to bridge the gap between language and reality, between the outside and my insides. and yet in a way, everything is the same, everyone who has ever lived has had feelings. i’m doing the best i can. everyone is. i guess. in their own twisted way. it’s too early to call anyone and i find that im very dishonest about my feelings via text as opposed to how vulnerable i am when im speaking over a call. i pretend to be happy and fine, for two reasons, 1) i try to fake it till i make it, 2) not to cause unnecessary trouble or concern.

i just got offered a gig on the 22nd, but it’ll be 42 degrees that day, i’ll actually die of a heatstroke because that studio doesn’t have air conditioning. i don’t know what to do. i know ill have a flare up but i hate not being able to go or having to turn down gigs.

okay wtf look at what the costar app just sent me:

that is so insane. co star is crazy for this fr. they always send me something so related to my day. jesus. almost makes you think astrology is real.

anyway yeah, so i have a lot to do but ill probably end up watching tv and buying unnecessary groceries today. which is honestly a perfectly normal thing to do when on holiday. i’ll try not to feel guilty about it.

[buttercup-goodluck]

Spoilers for Rick and Morty s6 ep10!

I have never understood Rick and Morty’s character more than I do right now, after this episode aired.

It mostly confirmed a lot of my own notes on Rick and Morty’s character development and psychology.

I really like that the writers look to be doing a “Walk down the road to hell together” storyline. Don’t get me wrong I adore it when it looked like Rick was going to to clean himself up and be better for Morty. But this fucking gut punch of an episode sold me completely on Rick ruining the one good thing in his life, no take backs (well at least no take backs for a while). Also even though I like good nice Rick I want him to fucking earn it and from a writing perspective making him earn it or watching him fail to do so makes sense.

For anyone who doesn’t know a “Walk down the road to hell together” storyline is what it says on the tin. It’s when two characters know and whiling walk the road to hell (destroy themselves to reach a goal, becoming the monster they feared, etc.) idk if I made that name up or not but that’s the name we’re going with.

For Rick this his him hitting Rick bottom. He says it in the episode he’s become the thing he hated most. It’s not like he can stop now, he’s made himself irredeemable, done to many horrible things. He can’t stop now because what would have it all been for. He’s literally driven himself insane for this.

For Morty it’s him becoming like Rick. A parallel, he’s becoming the thing he hated most too. Rick is and has been Morty’s primary care giver. No hate on Beth and Jerry, Rick made sure this was the outcome and made it stay that way. He’s been doing it since season 1. Rick has been raising Morty and he’s doing a shit job of it.

In the end Rick made him like that, and even though Morty hates it, Rick really his the only one who could understand what’s he going through. Their each others only real friend. Even if it’s all toxic as fuck.

It’s all a desperate bid for understanding. That also long as you’re with me it’ll be fine even when it’s not.

So their walking the road to hell together. With Rick being the sinner and Morty being the one to be dragged down with him. With them either ruining themselves completely or somehow being each others rock and getting through it.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

whoops the ppl on the fanfic Reddit were talking about villain motivations and I went overboard talking about how I personally write c!dream (seriosuly everyoje else gave like 1-2 paragraphs but how do I describe the insanity of my boy in 1-2 paragraphs) I love him too much

What defines him most of all is his crippling loneliness. He feels deeply isolated from people he once considers friends, and took them even slightly distancing themselves from being around him 24/7 as a sign of betrayal, which deeply hurt him and lead to him basically cutting everyone off, only worsening that horrific loneliness until the point he was desperate for a friend, any sort of human contact.

He's also intensely curious, and is very much an ends justifies the means person, who's been studying death and revival in various cruel methods because he thinks he can make things better with them. Having control over that, along with his own deteriorating sanity, has left him fully convinced he’s a God, and that the people around him should rightly be his followers. He can barely even recognise them as living, casually using them as tools because he can’t conceive of that being morally wrong anymore, and expects them to be fine with that and fall over themselves fawning with happiness and adoration once he “fixes” things, even if it’s something no one but him wants.

He feels like he's indestructible, and the only way he can ever lose if is he chooses to give up his power. The times he’s been genuinely badly hurt and traumatised, he’s convinced it’s solely due to that perceived lack of power. To him, strength is everything, and if you show a little bit of weakness, everyone will hate and abandon you. If he’s aggressive, and shows force, people will hate him but listen to him, and in time he can turn that into love. If he shows even the slightest bit of a crack in the facade, then they’ll rise against him. People in general, to him, are predictable variables due to that, and he doesn’t really care to distinguish between them, unless they have a specific use to them or if he thinks it’ll get the reaction he wants. Even those closest to him he'd discard if they proved useless or disloyal without question, and replace with someone else. He's not mentally healthy enough for fulfilling, stable, and equal relationships, but craves them desperately.

There’s one person who he does have a level of lasting attachment to, because he'll consistently defy him no matter how suicidal the odds, and therefore, in the villains head that makes him special and unique, as opposed to most people he’s sorta started seeing as a homogenous mass. He simultaneously sees him as a scapegoat yet the closest thing to a potential equal, and cares about him in a very very fucked up, dehumanising and infantilising way, seeing him more as a prized possession to be abused and broken into being an ally than an actual person (a task he takes great joy in). This person is also a sixteen year old boy, and so he sees himself as sort of a mentor/older brother figure (even though he’s barely older, himself, and a lot more immature than he lets on), and the abuse and suffering he puts the kid through as “lessons.” He sees himself in the past in him, and views his kindness, empathy, and cheerfulness as naïvety he needs to be broken of, and doesn’t view him as at all responsible to make his own decisions, seeing him as a corrupted child and not a teenage boy with a level of autonomy of his own. He’s convinced he'll remove all defiance if he controls him, but also views that defiance as a product of a poor upbringing, one he seeks to “fix”.

He is also incredibly cruel and enjoys hurting others, both physically and mentally, but he’s in deep denial about that and is convinced he’s the hero of his own story, forced to commit the actions he revels in, because if he ever had to realise that he caused even a bit of the hurt that tore his life apart it'd break him completely, so he throws himself into all his goals obsessively and directs all the blame onto a teenager despite having to actively rewrite history to place him as the sole perpetrator. He can’t hate him, or get rid of him, because if he did he’d have to confront himself, so he’s developed this very toxic abusive codependent friendship with a kid who hates him but is Stockholm syndrome'd to hell and back.

(This is basically how I write him in all my many fics, though it’s not always clear since it’s often from said sixteen year olds POV and he's just convinced he’s a one note evil monster who hates him and lives only to see him suffer, which like… fair he abused him really badly, fully his right and not something he should be the one to work on.)