#listen this is purely self-indulgent sadness because that is who i AM

[corrodedcoughin]

Eddie has a hard time making friends | 2.7k | very self-indulgent corroded coffin centric drabble | not beta-read so i can only apologise, also i'm off sick so if this is incoherent i apologise x2

Eddie Munson lived his life telling himself that no matter what, he didn’t need anyone. That he was better off without friendships and relationships, that in reality, he could do whatever he wanted and please himself. Fuck off at the drop of a hat if he so desired! He didn’t need to factor anyone into his life and that’s the way he liked it. 

The truth is Eddie Munson wanted to be loved. That’s what it boiled down to. The problem was he wouldn’t and couldn’t let himself. That’s what he believed anyway. There was a pattern to Eddie’s relationships, be it romantic or otherwise. And that pattern was that Eddie fucked them up. He was too much. He knew it in himself, he could feel it deep in his bones. Every so often though, he’d forget and would open himself up to somebody new. Always guarded, he’d talk and play his part, getting to know this new person, entertaining them and making sure they had a good time. That’s what his role was and he was good at it. To a degree. Eventually he let a little too much of the real him out and that’s when the other person would see him. They’d see him and the uninterested look in their eyes would appear and the pain of the realisation would come crashing over Eddie like ice water.  The person would have enough and be on their way again, leaving Eddie alone but ultimately for the best. 

Sometimes though, sometimes Eddie let the person in. He’d take a few bricks out of his mile high wall and let the person peek inside. See the real Eddie, with his excitement and happiness but his sadness too, his neediness, the very weight of him and his pain. This never ended well. The problem is, Eddie got attached. He got attached too easily and then he’d make himself vulnerable. Then, the spark of a new friendship would fizzle out. Not for Eddie, never for Eddie, but for the other person, or that’s how it felt anyway. The conversations would get further apart, the excitement to share started to feel one sided. He’d get so nervous about starting a conversation, unsure what to say to how to say. Unclear if the other person even wanted to hear from him, instead sitting in silence and yearning to reach out. The fizzy feeling in his chest would still be there but it would be tinged with this heartache and Eddie would second guess himself, then the whole relationship, and he’d be pulling back so fast he could almost feel the g force of it. He’d push the new friend away after convincing himself that it was all out of pity. That they saw how much time and attention he took from them, that ultimately he wasn’t worth the effort and he’d be left to lick his own wounds as another friendship failed. The issue was that Eddie had maybe too much affection. And when he let that out? Even just a little bit? Reining it back in was impossible. A tidal force of emotion welled up for so long and desperate to be let out, it couldn’t be held back. And so after every time he mistakenly let himself show his true colours, he was left to mop up the deluge. Friendship swept away and another wreck left in his wake. A fresh ache to be added to the collection. 

 —------

He tells himself he is happy on his own, better off that way because the alternative is worse. He doesn’t need a reminder of just how unbearable he is, how unwanted his true self is. Eddie Munson, acquaintance to many, friend to none. Safe. He knows his part and he sticks to it.

Or that’s how he plans to be anyway. That is how he thinks his life will go. But then he gets tricked. 

He gets tricked into caring about three lost losers that wander into his orbit. 

It’s the lunch of the first day of his second senior year and he has no intentions of making friends. Knows he’ll be better off getting through the year on his own. But then it happens. He doesn’t mean for it to happen. But happen it does. There’s a new kid that clearly has no idea where hes going and is giving a valiant attempt at trying to be nonchalant as he cranes his head around looking for a free table. Eddie sits on his own at the table he has marked out for hismelf that nobody else comes near, likelihood that his reputation proceeds him. So he kicks a chair out and tells the guy to sit. And the guy? Looks at Eddie like he’s handed him the keys to heaven, or hell going by the boy’s judas priest shirt, nice.

Eddie is about to leave, gearing himself up for a friendly nod before running to solitude. The new guy isn’t so keen on that though. 

‘Thanks man, somehow nobody ever mentions how shit the time between classes can be when you transfer. Only ever the shittiness of new teachers’ the guy says, offering a smile so warm that Eddie returns it without thinking. ‘I’m Jeff by the way’ 

Lunch passess without consequence, he gets Jeff’s backstory. Listens to how his day has been so far and what he’s got for the rest of his classes. They part amicably enough and Eddie thinks nothing more of it, glad to have helped with first day nerves but mentally starts planning on taking his lunch elsewhere tomorrow, let Jeff get acquainted with the rest of the school and not feel obligated to the first person that was nice to him. 

Only that isn’t how it goes. Jeff finds him in the food line and Eddie, and his Wayne instilled mantra of ‘Munsons have manners’, smiles and engages in the best, albeit stilted, small talk he can muster while simultaneously seeking his escape route. Only he gets involved. He gets pulled into a conversation about guitars and the best bass riffs and honest to god symbolism in lyrics. He gets tricked! Jeff tricked him! And now he’s sitting at a table with this new guy and enjoying himself and he can’t help himself. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’ll pull away and slink out the back door like he knows best and everything will be okay. 

Tomorrow turns into the next day, turns into next week and soon enough it’s two weeks and Eddie is looking forward to lunch so he can see Jeff, conversation gets easy, somehow enjoyable, and he hates himself for it but his heart is so happy he can’t help it. He’s heading to ‘their table’ (when did he start calling it that? Better quit while he’s even marginally ahead) and now there’s three people there, causing an internal panic.

Eddie must have got the wrong table? But no, sure enough Jeff is waving him down as a fluffy haired boy and his friend are flinging their hands around in a heated debate. Over what? Eddie guesses he’ll never find out because he is absolutely not sitting with them. Nope. No way. He is a loner and that’s how he’s going to stay. He’s about to turn on his heel, lunch tray in hand, when Jeff is by his side and pulling him over.

‘Get held up man? No worries, saved you a seat. I invited Gareth and Ian too, met them last week and thought it would be fun.’ Jeff doesn’t give him a chance to answer before he’s pushing him into a chair and getting back involved with the other two. Now Eddie is a loner but that doesn’t mean he isn’t keeping tabs on people. He knows the name of these two but other than that? Not much to tell. 

‘And I’M saying you are an IDIOT if you think Gimli couldn’t bare knuckle brawl with a shithead like smeagol and win’ Ian is passionate with it but he’s fighting a losing battle by the looks of things.

‘Oh! I’M the idiot? ME? DUDE! Last week you tried telling me that Tom Bombadil could win against Gandalf. GANDALF! THE GREATEST WIZARD OF ALL TIME? Fuck off man, thought you were smarter than that.’ Shaking his head, Gareth throws Eddie a look of ‘can you believe this shit?’ 

And before he can stop himself Eddie is interjecting, ‘All the power to Gimli but Gandalf respects gollum for a reason’ which gets him a slap on the back form Jeff as Ian and Gareth go at it again. He knows he made a mistake in this but he couldn’t help himself, he’ll pull back soon. He will. 

Only he doesn’t. He keeps coming back, he keeps talking and laughing and learning more and more about these guys and he cares. He cares so much he feels like his heart might burst with it. He actively looks forward to spending time with the three of them. They spend time together outside of school! Wayne has even made comments about it being nice to see him looking happy, brightening up like the sun when Eddie slips up and mentions plans with the three guys.

That doesn’t stop the pervasive and creeping feeling from reminding Eddie of who he really is, how things go for him. He tortures himself with it, in truth. He tells himself that he knows the pull back is coming so to stop the painful waiting game he starts planning the detachment. Tries to keep it scientific, emotionless. It isn’t easy. It’s the exact opposite of what he wants to do. He wants to spend as much time as possible with these people, talk shit with them, make them laugh, get to really know them, maybe even let them really know him. But still, there is the insipid little voice in the back of his head, telling him what he believes to be true, that soon enough they will have had enough of Eddie. Soon enough they’ll look at him and see the burden that he is. 

It’s a small thing that sets him off, and entirely his own doing. He starts comparing the relationships within the group. Analysing down to the nth degree to try and prove the worst to himself. And he does, of course he does when he’s torturing himself with it. The way he’s now convinced himself to see the group as a strong three. Ian and Gareth already were friends, already have a long history together, nothing is shaking them up. Jeff and Gareth? They can riff off of so many shared experiences after finding out their families are from the same place. Ian and Jeff are like peas in a pod when it comes to senses of humour, can’t help but make each other laugh, truly there for each other. The three of them have such interwoven bonds that means Eddie is left out in the cold. He can offer them nothing so what’s the point of sticking around?

He doesn’t do it slow, knows that ‘all or nothing’ is the best approach so he stops showing up at lunch. Doesn’t turn up to Gareth’s grandma’s house to watch the copy of ‘The Night of the Living Dead’ Jeff snagged from his older brother. Tries not to think about how excited he was for that one. He stops answering the phone and makes sure Wayne tells anyone looking for Eddie that he isn’t in while also not telling Wayne what was going on. He wishes he could say he found the whole process easy but that would be a lie. He doesn’t let himself ruminate on it though. Distracts himself with his guitar, his books, music. The things that have kept him going. It’s lonely, he can acknowledge that but that feeling will fade, he’ll get used to it again. It’ll be fine, in time. 

Eddie knows who he is, how he is and so he settles himself on the couch with the tv and a rerun of Magnum Pi, he’s sad but that doesn’t mean he can’t admire a beautiful man, okay? Sometimes ogling a hairy chest is the best medicine. That and it’s something he and Wayne like to watch together and point out the plot inconsistencies. Thankfully Wayne is home so Eddie doesn’t feel entirely isolated. Wayne’s tried bringing up the friend thing a few times this week but Eddie hasn’t been able to talk about it, just casts his eyes down and changes the subject. He doesn’t need Wayne hearing just how pathetic his nephew is. This is just always how these things go. Everyone else seems to navigate friendships so easily but that ability was clearly left out of Eddie’s skill set. 

He really is trying his best not to think about it but it’s so hard when the physical sensations in chest wont leave him alone. Its a constant churning of ‘Not good enough. Too much. Nobody’s priority. Never right’ that feels like a persistent and solid pain where his heart should be. And this pain is exactly what distracts him from the noise of a knock on the door, from Wayne going to the door, from Wayne opening the door and letting somebody in. Letting three somebodys in that are now standing in front of Eddie who is presenting as a very pathetic curled up mass of hair and flannel.

‘People here to see you, son’ Wayne calls from the door. Completely un-needed because yes Eddie can see them thank you very much Wayne. And they can see him and Why did he let them in??

Eddie slowly brings himself to sitting up on the couch from his position of ‘sad-lounging’. He doesn’t look up, can’t meet anyone’s eyes. Opens his mouth to speak while pushing a hand through his hair to buy himself some time. TO figure out the easiest way out of this. Why are they here?

‘Get the fuck up man, we only have this movie for one night before Jeff has to give it back. Don’t be a dick’ Gareth says rather than waiting for Eddie to begin, even starts pulling him up to his feet before Eddie can stop him. 

‘Guys, no. It’s fine. You’ll have a better time just the three of you. I promise’ Eddie starts his explanation, hoping to get it out so they can leave. 

Jeff won’t hear it though, ‘Fuck off Eddie, you know these two will just end up arguing ad I’m going to need someone to give me running commentary on the actual movie so I don’t get caught up in their shit’ He starts head out the door, Gareth tugging Eddie along and Ian at his back.

‘Thanks for letting us in Mr Munson, is it okay if Eddie stays with us tonight?’ Ian, actual shithead but always a charmer asks as he walks backwards out the trailer, following the troupe. 

‘Fine with me, just don’t feed him after midnight.’ Wayne replies and Eddie can hear the smile in his voice. Can’t help himself but shout ‘WAYNE!’ to the amusement of the guys. 

He gets settled in Gareth’s Grandma’s car? Gareth got his Grandma to drive them here?? And doesn’t let himself think until they arrive at the house. They get settled in the basement, all of them sitting closer than necessary but seemingly comfortable, Ian on the floor, tilting into Jeff’s legs, Jeff next to Eddie on the couch and Gareth sitting on the armrest. 

Eddie’s mind wont rest though, feels fundamentally wrong. Inexplicably bad and needing to fix thing. So he starts, quietly and in the dark as the movie starts ‘I’m really sorry guys, I know I’m hard work and not exactly eas-’ He doesn’t get to finish before Jeff is shushing him ‘Eddie shut the fuck up. Let us be your friends, yeah? But seriously, shut up. Movie time.’ 

Obviously he wants to keep going, apologise again, try to explain himself, opens his mouth to. But then he feels Gareth’s hand on his head, a gentle smack and a hushed ‘Dude, stop’ and Ian reaches over to pet his leg before stealing the popcorn out of Jeff’s lap to a shout of protest. 

Eddie tries to settle down, tries to just let it slide. But the thing is his skin feels tight and like somebody replaced his blood with something fizzy. His tummy is squeezing painfully and his trying his best to contain a laugh that’s begging to be let out. Maybe, just maybe, he’s found his people.

[manwrre]

i am absolutely ravenous for a jennifer’s body themed harringrove fic. and if i write it, it’ll be purely self indulgent so please don’t make me (make me make me make me).

like, i kid you not, when i say that billy’s the perfect character/candidate for any kind of possession trope. he’s pretty and popular— with his half-wild grin, fervent eyes and untamable hair. he’s smart and charismatic like no one’s business and anyone would be drawn in by him; he’s a perfect homme fatale.

he’s also strong and young. he’s healthy and quick and in his prime, so if a demon really wanted to make an apex predator out of someone, he’d be ideal. because no matter how great of a hunter anyone or anything is, isn’t it all the more rewarding when the prey comes to you?

so i can imagine steve and billy becoming such good freaking friends after the night at the byers’. once he’s sobered up and off the adrenaline high, i know for a fact that the sight of steve’s bruised face would probably make billy sick to his stomach. so he’d apologize, right? and they’d get on like a house on fire because they have sm in common.

it doesn’t take long for them to start crushing on each other (unbeknownst to either party because we love pining). so one night, billy takes steve to this underground metal-grunge club and in steve’s head, it’s a freaking date (and billy’s too). they spend most of the show just wrapped up in each other at the bar and messing around in their familiar, little way that makes steve’s heart race.

until yk, he goes to the bathroom and comes back to find billy’s seat empty. the bartender’s no help, really. he mentions something about billy walking off with a guy and steve’s stumped. he’s hurt because surely, he understood this right, so why would billy leave with someone else? so he waits and waits and waits before heading home, livid.

but imagine his surprise, hours later, when he wakes up to a commotion in his backyard and it’s billy.

billy, whose usually perfect curls are a mess and who looks like he can barely stand on his own two, god-given feet. billy, who snaps his head in steve’s direction at the sound of the door sliding open and stares at him with wide, frantic eyes.

“steve,” his voice cracks and his shoulders slump in what might be relief.

“jesus christ— billy, where the fuck have you been?” steve hisses, dropping the bat and rubbing at his burning eyes because he’s exhausted.

because at the core of it, he’s still pissed that he’d been ditched, of course and so sad and he would hate for billy to see him cry.

that is, until the blonde practically falls into his arms and all steve can do is cradle him against his chest while billy shakes.

he’s cold, like he’s been out here forever in the midwestern fall but he doesn’t seem bothered as he blindly clutches at whichever parts of steve are closest— his shoulders, his arms, his back and presses his face into his neck.

all the while, he’s murmuring something low enough that steve can only pick up bits and pieces; his own name and a mantra of pleasepleasepleasepleaseohgod.

it’s only then that he notices the dark sludge staining the blonde’s clothes and the front of his bare chest; half-dried and pungent and he freezes.

“billy… billy, what’s this? are you hurt?”

and he’s looking him over for a sizable wound because the amount of blood spells nothing less than extensive damage and gore. so it’s safe to say that he’s confused when he finds nothing but a few scratches. nothing that warrants this amount of blood, which means that it’s not his. but,

it’s someone’s.

he doesn’t notice that billy’s stopped moving until he looks up to find the blonde already staring at him, though.

his eyes are damp with unshed tears and he’s got his lower lip caught between his teeth; worrying the skin there. and he looks so far away. closer to the outskirts of hawkins, than here in steve’s backyard.

“steve– i, listen…i just,” he whispers, his brows furrowing and face contorting into something ugly for all of a second; something pained.

when he speaks again, it sounds wet. it sounds wet and he’s so scared. steve’s never seen him this scared.

it makes his own heart race in response; filling the spaces where billy’s must be skipping a beat.

“i think there’s something wrong with me. like really, really, really wrong with me— i dunno what i did, i dunno what to do, god, it was just…i think….”

“steve, i think there’s something inside of me.”

[pretentious-art-love]

Album Reviews #1 - October Rust by Type O Negative

I have been searching for this album for so long, and now that I've found it, I am really happy. It completes a side of music in my collection that has been missing among my five-star ratings: melancholic music. Okay, this album might not be really fully melancholic, but it's as enigmatic and romantic as is intensely wild and demented. Perfect to listen when you are wallowing in sorrow! Its embrace with its ever so enchanting and magical soundscape that feels as cold as the caressing hand of a corpse. The biggest achievement of this album is that it used its cynicism and transformed it to make romance feel more genuine than ever before, it is therefore the one and only album so far that I have seen that has managed to take the very nature of cynism and turn it on its head. It doesn't uses it as a curtain to say it cares less, but as a way to show you more of itself, to say it cares more than anyone ever, to be more genuine than ever, it went past any sort of excuses for apathy and careless to say instead, I love you all this much and I don't care what that implies, I love you, this is who I am. This might be the most freeing statement I have found still under the reigns of romance and sadness. Love not as a construction for a relationship but something hopeful and silly. This album is also the most soothing and romantic music I could play while taking a shower and the closest I have been to feeling being romantically loved by someone else. When I listen to it in full, I sing it fully in a deep, male voice as if I got possessed by the singers and that way we both turn into one.

People say this album "parodies gothic tropes but it also embraces them", a bit of a convoluted way of thinking, don’t you think? Embracing tropes and parodying them—it’s called not giving a fuck! Like, come on, you just know that someone in the scene secretly always wanted to write those cheesy and cringy lines, what did Peter do? He just wrote them! It's also like the time Devin Townsend wore a silly devil costume in his Vampira music video. The tropes exist because they are part of what we love. So, it's incredibly liberating to fully fall into them and push them to their extreme without any care for self-awareness. This album is pure, self-indulgent romance, so naive and candid. It is not afraid and will unapologetically love with all of its silly sides. Letting it love you offers an experience more genuine than any before. From moments that rejoice in their own unwieldy desires and that smile with complicity at your own chosen misdeeds, to instants that share you that happiness of the past while still accepting and reminding you of the derisive and the amusingly bitter future that awaits to the nostalgic mind! Through the bewitching soundscape and its explosive emotion, the carnal edges, and corny feelings, until the rejoice of funeral martyrdom with songs charged with euphoria, and calculating, militant satisfaction that finally turn into intimate, doting sections (the lion might look for its lioness with calculating hunger, but it disarms itself when it gets closer to her embrace), to finally end with an everlasting and astray picture of pure and intense devotion, beyond the confinements of space and time. This is a romantic album like no other and it makes me cry out of the pure love it gives, this is what it feels to be loved, this is what it feels to experience the joy and sadness of love, this, this album.

When there is so much passion in mischief, it completely electrifies me. Don't you hate when songs just fade out instead of properly ending? This album doesn't fade out the songs; it cuts them abruptly—wish granted! The interludes are just as funny, and break absolutely and completely the atmosphere that the album creates, starting with a plain weird noise and a statement that the band members are, in fact, potheads. They don't present themselves as owners of allure, breaking any possible exoticism they might have gained by the making of the record. They tell you they're recording this just for fun and loving it. The first spoken interlude then creates such a huge whiplash with the tone of the first song that its just... I can't even explain it, it feels as if they kept laughing the whole album since that track, it is essential to the experience. Then Love You To Death, Love You To Death, if I do not get married to that song, I am doing something wrong. The last interlude is a semi-ironic bit that hopes you enjoyed the record even if it was too different, but with its casual and lull tone suggesting that if you didn't enjoy the album, well, who cares! Come to the concerts anyway and stay safe! This interlude serves as a letter to dissolve a bit more the ever-evolving myth between artists and the audience and with how abrupt the transition is from Haunted it feels as if you suddenly woke up from a beautiful dream! This is why I love this album so deeply. It is not wholly beautiful, but also utterly puckish and blithe, it embodies pure and unashamed, genuine emotion. To see the fatuity of feeling and not slow down because of it!

Custom tracklist

Bad Ground

[untitled]

Love You to Death

The Glorious Liberation of the People's Technocratic Republic of Vinnland by the Combined Forces of the United Territories of Europa

Be My Druidess

Green Man

My Girlfriend’s Girlfriend

Burnt Flowers Fallen

Die With Me

Cinnamon Girl

Red Water (Christmas Mourning)

In Praise of Bacchus

Wolf Moon (Including Zoanthropic Paranoia)

Haunted

[untitled]

10/10

[littlespoonevan]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thank you @sibylsleaves for the tag!! 🥰

How many works do you have on ao3?

88!

What's your total ao3 word count? 1,205,924

What fandoms do you write for?

Currently just 911 but previously all for the game, skam, shameless, and teen wolf

Top five fics by kudos:

Buy Back the Secrets 

i want your midnights

come out to the sea, my love 

Things Look Different in the Morning

a touch of someone else (to save me from myself)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! i feel mean when i don't lmao but i currently have some to catch up on

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ohh, i mean by nature i am a very un-angsty person???? tbh i don't think i've ever written a sad ending before?????

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

well, as evidenced by my previous response, every fic i write has a happy ending lol but maybe Say Anything...As Long As It's I Love You just because that fic was pure self-indulgent fluff on my part askdjfh

Do you get hate on fics?

no, thankfully!! i've gotten one or two not so nice comments before but it was in a previous fandom a v long time ago

Do you write smut?

i've written allusions to smut lmao but never anything heavily explicit

Craziest crossover:

I've never written a crossover before but i do love me a good au based on a movie if you want to count any of those aksdjhf

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah, a few! I don't tend to give permission for it anymore though since i decided to lock my fics to ao3

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!! one of my first ever fics was co-written with a fandom friend back in the teen wolf days :')

All time favorite ship?

my all time favourite ship is whatever ship is currently altering my brain chemistry the most so right now it's buddie 💕

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

listen, i would loVE to, but i genuinely do not think i will ever write that buddie royalty au. the worldbuilding is just so much effort rip aksdjhf

What are your writing strengths?

mm i think i'm pretty good at emotional development and i enjoy writing dialogue a lot!! but i will say every time someone compliments my characterisation an angel gets its wings 🥰

What are your writing weaknesses?

plot lmao. i am Not creative enough for plot-driven stories at all. she's a character-driven story girl all the way

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I don't really???? have any thoughts?????? if it's relevant for the story? cool, sure, go for it!! but unless the character is a fluent irish speaker it's not something i'll be writing any time soon lmao

First fandom you wrote in?

Glee and those fics do not exist on the internet anymore lol

Favorite fic you've written?

for 911 i'd say i'm someone you maybe might love,  Say Anything...As Long As It's I Love You, nobody knows you, baby, the way i do and Close Enough for Comfort are my personal faves just in terms of emotion/love confessions/descriptions/characterisation etc.

but a special shoutout to my andreil band au And We'll Be Running  bc i will literally never write anything that good ever again in my entire life askdjhf

Tagging: @mellaithwen @fcntasmas @buckactuallys @homerforsure @hattalove @capseycartwright @finduilasclln @bucktommys @hmslusitania and anyone else who feels like it!!! 🩷

[soffpisces]

enhypen as emo bands!!

heeseung- taking back sunday

i'm not super sure if the vibes are there, but just based off of the music he's recommended, it's obvious he doesn't listen to heavy/upbeat music. i can also see him enjoying angsty music every once in a while. sometimes he gives me "angsty teen recovering from a breakup with their first love" yk? "your lipstick, his collar, don't bother angel. i know exactly what goes on."

jay- the red jumpsuit apparatus

he strikes me as a lowkey romantic person. so when he's in the mood, i can definitely see him listening to them whilst looking dramatically out a window lmao! fuckk honestly this is just based on his vibes, i have no more input lol. "i'll be there for you through it all. even if saving you sends me to heaven." i'm crying it's so corny but so good, just like jay<3.

jake- we the kings

okay so... this is purely based on their song "check yes juilet" ; like don't they just give off the same vibes?? we the kings is also an emo staple but they're not known for being actually emo, yk. so, they go well because when i think of jake, i don't necessarily think of sad music. jake gives me "sneaking in your window at night" and just 2000s-teenage-romance-vibes in general. "they'll tear us apart if you give them the chance. don't sell your heart. don't say we're not meant to be. run baby, run, forever will be you and me".

sunghoon- black veil brides

okay, hear me out... i wouldn't have chosen bvb for sunghoon if not for "in the end". sunghoon strikes me as someone who really enjoys the classics. he's always choosing the old but good songs for karaoke, so i have a feeling he could bop to this. i feel like he would have some emo/metal classics in his workout playlist... "as you fade into the night, who will tell the story of your life?"

sunoo- paramore

it was lowkey difficult to think of a band for him, but alas, haley williams appears in my brain. honestly, if he's feeling a little angsty, he could totally enjoy their music. his voice would be so delicious covering their song "all i wanted". "it's not a walk in the park to love each other. but when our fingers interlock, can't deny, can't deny you're worth it."

jungown- fall out boy

the other day, i saw that jungwon recommended a green day song?? like hello?? so random. i considered the two but ended up going with fob simply because green day gives millennial-dad vibes. (don't get me wrong i love green day, but the energy is not there). my inspiration for this match is pretty similar to jake's. jungwon is just so teenage romance coded, so i think the two pair well with each other&lt;3. "i'm just a notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a song."

ni-ki- escape the fate

okay, i was between putting etf or falling in reverse, but i figured most of falling in reverse's music is a little too goofy for ni-ki's vibe lol! and when i say etf, i mean ronnie's era specifically. imagining riki listening to them is making me want to cry; like the idea of the two of them is magical. but yea, this is honestly based purely on the vibes! i know niki has the heart of an emo;3. "how does it feel when your tears freeze when you cry? the blood in your veins is 20 below."

as you can probably tell, this is completely self-indulgent <3. i am desperately trying to make two worlds collide... i don't know if it's working or not, lol! tell me what you think!! emo engenes represent!!!

[clairerobbin-blog]

The Shape of Grief - Monologue

(Lights up. A single figure stands centre stage. The space is sparse. They take a breath, hesitant, as if testing their voice for the first time in a long time.)

I don’t know when it happened—what age, what moment—but somewhere along the way, I stopped feeling like I could truly speak.

Maybe it’s because everyone is carrying so much—politically, emotionally, physically. Maybe it’s because life quietly taught me that my sadness isn’t big enough to take up space.

(Beat. A shift in breath, heavier now.)

My dad is going into hospital tomorrow. But in many ways, I’ve already lost him.

The man who shaped my world—who filled it with deep curiosity, music, and pure magic—who made me feel safe simply by being Alvin… is fading.

And as he disappears, piece by piece, I feel something slipping from me too.

His identity isn’t just his. It’s mine. Nestled deep in my bones, in the way I think, in the way I see the world. And now, as his sense of self unravels, I feel untethered. Like a part of me is unravelling too.

(A beat. A sharper inhale. They push forward.)

The hardest part?

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know about the surgery. He doesn’t know what’s coming. The pain. The confusion.

And I can’t explain.

I can’t tell him. I can’t prepare him. And the cruelty of that... the sheer unfairness of it—

(Pause. They shake their head, struggling to contain it, then soften.)

And yet—what shames me most is how much this hurts.

I’m not a child anymore. Not even a young adult. Shouldn’t I know how to handle this? With grace, with dignity, with some quiet strength?

I tell myself—people suffer worse. Far worse. People lose fathers younger. Some never have one to lose. And here I am—relatively old, relatively young—falling apart over my old dad.

(Bitter chuckle. Small, dry. They shake their head.)

It feels selfish. Indulgent. Embarrassing, even. To grieve this much for someone who still breathes, still laughs, still feeds bread to birds.

(A beat. Something unsettled lingers in the air.)

How did love—something so pure—get tangled up with this much shame?

(They look out, searching. A moment of fragile honesty.)

But grief doesn’t listen to logic.

It doesn’t care how old someone is. It doesn’t compare itself to the suffering of others. It simply is.

And maybe… maybe that’s what makes it unbearable. Not just the grief itself, but the damn shame of it. The embarrassment of being this sad, this lost, at a time in my life when I should know how to get on with it.

(Beat. A shift. A quiet admission.)

But I am, after all, a writer.

And in these moments—when I feel squeezed of expression, when it seems like my voice has vanished entirely—I write anyway.

(A flicker of something—nostalgia, longing.)

I miss the days when I could take the weight of existence—the sorrow, the fear, the love—and scribble it into a song. I miss standing on a stage, guitar in hand, letting it all spill into something real. Something I could see, something I could hold.

Back then, I didn’t feel embarrassed to be sad. I didn’t feel swallowed by shame.

(A breath. They shift, looking out at the audience, direct now.)

Do you ever feel like that?

Like the world has convinced you your grief is too loud? Too unseemly? Too much?

Like you should be quieter, smaller, more palatable in your sadness?

(Pause. The weight of the silence hangs between them and the audience.)

This isn’t a plea for comfort.

I don’t need reassurance. I don’t need sympathy.

I just needed to put words to the silence inside me.

To give this grief a shape—

(A breath. A final thought, held, then released.)

Even if only for a moment.

(Lights fade to black.)

[aquz]

js read your fic with the shizuku-like reader and loved it! (not the same anon tho) may i request a mafuyu-like reader with riddle, trey, cater, lilia and silver? ty in advance if you decide to do this request!

MAFUYU-LIKE!READER ─ R.R; T.C; C.D; L.V; SILVER. (￣_￣)・・・

haii this might be kinda self indulgent because i am an ABSOLUTELY MASSIVE mafuyu kinnie and I Am Her Biggest Fan.

gender neutral reader, hints of depression and loss of self identity (?), kinda short headcanons, no established relationships

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS ─

at first, riddle admires you a lot. he thinks your dedication to study is admirable and the way you're able to balance so many activities and still keep up such a calm, helpful attitude is amazing. this is obviously before he sees... the real you.

the day he saw your true feelings, he felt sympathy. he honestly couod relate so hard that he cried with you, on the floor. having to always put everything else before yourself and happiness was such a tough thing to deal with, especially when someone is stopping you from truly enjoying life. throwing away your hobbies if they're not related to academics, always forcing high expectations on you and constantly making you feel as if you're nothing without a stupid A+ letter grade. riddle wants to help. he wants to help you find yourself and understand your feelings, but he needs help too. you both can figure it out together.

if you like to make music, especially music that helps you express yourself, riddle is so happy you can at least do that much. he might even like it,, (ahem, bitter choco decoration) even if you work in a group much like nightcord, riddle still praises your efforts. he loves you so, so much and wants you to know that no matter what you decide to do, as long as you're happy, it's a good choice.

TREY CLOVER ─

as soon as he sees you, he can tell something is off. after riddle's overblot and being cater's friend, he can tell you're definitely not who you seem to be. after helping adeuce study, you leave heartslabyul and trey happens to be outside tending to the bushes. as soon as you believe you're alone, he can see the honest exhaust in your eyes. the light in them dims and trey feels upset.

when you finally break, trey is not surprised. he sits with you on the floor and holds you as you cry into his chest. it's not easy being so dependent, he knows. the pressure of school is getting to be a lot for you, along with your struggle to find out what you really want in life. are you happy working towards a goal you didn't set yourself? are you still enjoying making music? trey asks many questions with YOUR opinion in mind. hopefully a bit of self reflection on your end can clear things up in your mind. (though, he knows simply just asking questions won't help you realize your true feelings. it will take time, time he's willing to spend with you.)

trey loves your music. he can feel the absolute emotion in it, and he applauds you for that. being able to express yourself artistically is surely a step in the right direction. trey makes sure he listens to all of your songs when they drop.

CATER DIAMOND ─

cater probably knows you from your music. somehow, he was able to find out it was you who made the saddest bangers he listened to every night. cater feels a sense of uneasiness when he realizes you both aren't too different after all; cheerful façades that drop into pure agony.

cater cries with you when you break. he understands it so much; forcing yourself to fit everyone elses ideals and losing yourself in the process. not being okay but having to seem like you are. wanting to disappear. he gets it. like riddle, he also struggles with similar issues so you both can heal together. for now, though, cry with him for hours and hours at night. this might he the first time he's felt truly understood.

cater obviously listens to your music! i mean, the songs are so damn relatable and they're the perfect sad-hour material. even though, he still fears for you mental state when you drop a new song. he knows you're in pain and your music reflects that; so he likes to treat you after every song you drop. simply to let you know he cares.

LILIA VANROUGE ─

lilia is capable of reading people easy, as well as technically stalking with his powers. at first, he thinks you're another overachiever but at second glance, you're more than that. he's deeply intrigued.

his father instincts kick in when you cry. your perfectly okay façade falls and you breakdown; you cry all about how tired you are. how you hated all your academic "goals" that you didn't set. you hated the disappointment you received when you wanted to do something other than study or when you didn't get a top grade. you hated constantly being confused on who you were and what you were feeling. you hated it all, the feeling of wanting to disappear growing stronger by the day. lilia comforts you like a father to his child; he hopes he can provide some kind of support.

he supports your hobbies!! especially if you make music because??? HE DOES TOO!! he literally loves listening to how talented you are and the emotion in your music is priceless. he really does care for you and he'll support you no matter what.

SILVER ─

silver knows you because you seem to be everywhere he is. when he's doing club work, you're there for whatever reason. you sit at the table next to his at lunch and you're near him in every class. of course he knows you, the charming and caring (name)!

he sees you break and he's scared. what does he do in this situation? he hugs you tight while you cry; you want to disappear. you want to be able to enjoy your hobbies without facing some kind of repercussion, you want to be normal, you want to be normal. silver provides advice and kind words he hears from lilia all the time. he can't help much at the moment but he'll fall asleep holding you, and hopefully you're tired from crying because he is HARD TO MOVE.

silver likes your music, he says you remind him of his super awesome father. he honestly wants to know how you make music. it might be a little boring and he might fall asleep but it's the thought that counts?

[bigteefsmallbrain]

SOULMATE AU HEADCANONS

So, Soulmate AU where when you talk out loud to yourself, your soulmate can hear you and vice versa, but actively trying to have a conversation with them doesn't work. I'm here, it's 8:43 in the afternoon as opposed to 3:29 AM when I first came up with this.

SOULMATE AU HEADCANONS FOR: Shoto Todoroki, Rin Okumura, and Sakura Haruno

Shoto Todoroki

Aha, good luck finding out you have a soulmate in the first place with this one

He literally does not speak out loud to himself

Not at first that is

He also is clueless about soulmates, like, as soon as he hears your voice he’s google searching “Why is there a voice in my head talking about how their family is disrespecting Ramen?”

When he does realize that it’s his soulmate, he won’t actively pursue speaking to himself or finding you

Actively being the key word here

He wants to believe he doesn’t care and that his soulmate, whoever they are, will just get in his way

But that doesn’t stop him from focusing solely on you when you talk

Or trying to reply to you sometimes

And it certainly doesn’t stop him from subconsciously starting to speak to himself

Which, by the way, scared the piss out of you the first time

You didn’t even know you had a soulmate till that point

so hearing a male voice in your head go “I can’t believe they only serve hot soba here”

Would understandably frighten you

He doesn’t even realize it at first until his father gets pissed at him for mumbling

And he’s just like “oh” and immediately stops, as soon as he realizes from then on

Like you’ll be going about your day, hear him start to speak, then cut himself off

Which is disappointing

His sudden radio silence changes drastically after his fight with Midoriya

Like after getting knocked out by Bakugo and being put into the infirmary, he decides to check over himself while mumbling or if Recovery Girl lists his injuries for him, he’ll repeat them under his breath

Which, scares you obviously, but you’re also glad he’s not dead or something

He starts rating cold soba that he has or has had in the past

Reviewing his day

Talking about Midoriya

Which worries you, does he have a crush? Are they just good friends? Is this ‘Midoriya’ going to steal your soulmate

I stg, Midoriya has become a love rival and the poor boy has no idea

You’re stalking him on the internet trying to find anything you can on him to make sure you can outdo anything he does

He can knit? Oh look, professional lessons and equipment

He does Yoga? Aha, you have never been more flexible in your life

Anything he’s done? You are now doing it better than he ever could

Todoroki doesn’t have this same fear, his parents weren’t soulmates, and he fully trusts you, you’re made for each other, literally

When you finally meet, it’s so unexpected, and he blue screens

Here? Now? Who? What’s yesterday?

He’s not functioning

Todoroki.exe has crashed

Person too pretty

You’re not any better though

Honestly, have you seen this man? He’s model material

Worth millions

You both stare at each other for a good while before Midoriya comes and breaks the silence

And Todoroki makes the mistake of going “Oh, hey Midoriya” and paying attention to him

The fire has been lit, RIP Midoriya Izuku, an innocent man

Rin Okumura

You have a collection of recipes

He talks A LOT when cooking, like, he’s a walking cookbook, going through each step and ingredient

Even for recipes of his own creation

Which he never writes down and frequently forgets

So when you meet, he’s convinced he died and went to heaven

All his beautifully crafted recipes and instructions, he may cry when you show them to him

He also reads out loud to himself, so prepare for that

All the Manga, any book he may read, some new recipe he found on the internet

He reads it out, and sometimes does different voices for other characters

Which is great and all, but since he’s a dropout, it’s literally at all the worst times

Doing a math quiz? He’s crying while reading a romance manga

Trying to study? Good luck with that, he’s dramatically reenacting a action manga panel

He watches Hell's Kitchen and other cooking shows

And RAMBLES

He’s talking about how this technique would be better

Or how he should try recreating that dish later

Critiquing how something turned out

Making a dish along with the show

Now, for him, every time he hears your voice, he freezes

Like, physically freezes

No thoughts, head empty, only soulmate

He will not respond until you’re done talking to yourself

And he commits whatever you say to memory

If you talk about a certain food, he is IMMEDIATELY in the kitchen either A) Learning the recipe for it, or B) Making sure he can still cook it

I can, nearly guarantee, that this man will invite you to his home for breakfast/lunch/dinner when you meet, and cook literally everything you’ve ever mentioned

And continue to cook for you after that

Like, he goes from “I wish to eliminate my birth father” to “The way of the house husband, Okumura style”

When you both meet, he pounces on you

No, I mean literally

He leaps on top of you

No hesitation

As soon as he hears your voice

It’s a immediate cuddle session on the floor

Or if you manage to stay upright, he’s clinging to you like a koala

No, you can’t escape or avoid

And if you DO stay upright, he will continue to lunge at you every time he is within jumping distance

Sakura Haruno

Yes, she may be seen as annoying or useless, but I like her, so I’m going to self indulge, and you can’t stop me

That doesn’t mean I'm gonna sugar coat this though

THIS GIRL GOES THROUGH ALL FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF IN THREE HOURS, AND MOST OF IT IS CRYING

She has spent who knows how long pursuing a toxic, probably Naruto-sexual, duck lookin emo DISASTER only to find out he’s NOT her soulmate?

“I went on this diet, and for what? Nothing”

“I bet it’s wrong, it has to be, right? Sasuke can’t NOT be my soulmate, RIGHT!?”

Yeah, she’s in a sad/denial state for about a week after that

And even after, she’s still salty

It’s not until Sasuke leaves, telling Sakura to go pursue HER soulmate instead of some stupid skin deep crush that she really begins to get OVER him and get INTO you

Except you’ve had enough of her Sasuke BS, so she not only needs to let go of her long time crush, but also make it up to her soulmate

The first time she says something about getting over Sasuke and wanting to be with her soulmate, you laugh, and she hears because you DON’T want to talk to her

“Does she really think one sentence is going to fix years of heartbreak?”

Now, when you put it like that, she cringes, and realizes that there's a lot of damage she caused

Honestly, when you two meet, you don’t recognize each other immediately, due to the fact that you don’t speak to her often or care to remember her voice

You probably found her with her head in her hands, probably eating away her woes at Ichirakus

You slide in, very smoothly, might I add, and ask what’s wrong while ordering yourself a bowl

She tells you the surface, that a friend ran from the village, which is true, but not what she’s sad about

You give her advice, chit chat a bit longer, getting to know each other, before paying for both her and your bowl and heading off

Never gave any names, just friendly conversation

You run into each other more frequently, growing closer with each talk, finally knowing each others names

Never mentioning meeting each other when talking to yourselves though

Eventually, using your advice when Sakura mentioned her soulmate was mad at her, you grew to forgive your soulmate

The two of you got such Deja Vu because of it too, since you were talking to each other and listening to the other ramble to themselves

Till one day, one of you mention the others name

And the other is like, “Oh my gosh [Y/N or Sakura] is my soulmate”

And then you both know

And the next time you see each other it’s a bit awkward, until Sakura says “So uh, I used your advice”

And you burst out laughing, conversation flowing as it would from there

You do hold a vendetta against Sasuke though, and after getting to know Sakura, it just gets 10 times worse

Like you’re ready to knock his teeth in if you ever see him

The pure, unadulterated rage you hold for him grows with every hate crime against Sakura he makes

Like, she tries to help him, now platonically, and he tries to kill her

There is no end to your rage

Everyone knows not to mention his name around you now

White boy better run and run fast if y’all ever meet

Yes, I do simp for pink haired characters, what are you gonna do about it?

If you’d like to see more headcanons, be that for this AU, or something else, feel free to submit an ask or comment! I hope you enjoyed these little headcanons!

[dancingazaleas]

jean kirstein | supportive

so this was completely self indulgent. i also wrote this because i’m tired of reading really unrealistic writings of what having a depressed lover is like and how you should take care of them. i’ve been diagnosed with MDD, so i’m just getting tired of seeing misrepresentation for it. i tried to make the reader as neutral as i could, i apologize if i couldn’t. also i don’t feel like using capital letters, i apologize. also sorry the spacing is weird, i originally wrote this when i was half asleep on my notes and just copied and pasted. i have a lot to apologize for.

notes/warnings: depressed reader, mentions of s3lf harm, cursing, reader & jean are 18, slight angst, pure fluff

“(name)... (name).... babe? c’mon, i need ya to wake up for me,” a voice you recognize says as they knock on your bedroom door.

you stumble over the clothes in your room and over to your bedroom door, struggling to open it. despite said struggles, you do manage to open the door. and you end up scurrying back to your messy, and comfortable bed.

jean walks in, one hand holding onto the strap of his backpack and the other holding onto a plastic bag with stuff that smells like snacks. he’s got a soft smile that instantly shifts into shock, disgust, and then into a frown.

your room was a mess. you hadn’t cleaned it since the start of your depressive episode, the same for yourself. you left the trash of fast food bags, unfinished sodas, and crumbled up bags of cheese-it’s. the fact you had been farting in your room and wouldn’t leave the door open to air it out made the smell worse.

he opens his arms, giving you the decision of if you wanted a hug or not, to which you accept. you’re cuddling your face into his chest, and you’re absolutely positive that you rank of BO and greasy hair. he doesn’t joke about anything yet though, he knows not to.

“you okay,” he’s so quiet, you barely hear him.

you respond with a shaky mumble, “no. sorry if i worried you.”

he pulls away and shakes his head at the claim you’ve just made.

“you didn’t mean to. it’s okay,” he kisses your forehead.

“have you eaten today?”

you think a little before you answer, “not much... haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“okay, i got us some snacks if you feel up to it. do you want to start cleaning your room before or after you eat,” he kicks off his shoes—he always waits until he’s in your room since he spends most of his time there.

“after, my stomach might feel fucked if i eat before. even though i’m not really the one cleaning,” you groan, going back under your covers.

“wanna talk about why you’re upset before or after we eat?” he’s tugging the covers off of your body, he knows you’ll try going back to bed.

“before. i’ll get hungry after crying.”

“okay,” it goes silent for a moment, and then, “i love you.”

“i love you too. thank you, and... sorry if i don’t seem appreciative of this, i don’t know what to say other than thank you.”

“i know you appreciate it. anyways, i’m gonna start picking up some of your clothes and maybe some of the sodas. wanna get in the shower while i do that?”

“yea. if you need to air out my room, open the window. close the door while you clean, don’t like my mom knowing you’re cleaning for me,” you sigh, getting out of bed and walking to your dresser to get underwear, a shirt, and shorts.

“okay. don’t miss me too much,” he’s suddenly hugging you from behind, and it makes you think he’s the one who will miss you. his stubble is tickling you a little as he rests his head on your shoulder, he just started growing it out.

you turn your head a little to look at him, taking notice of how long his hair was starting to get. he’d be turning 19 next year and would soon be getting an apartment with you.

and dear god, you were so ready for that to happen. you hate living with your mother.

“i love you,” you whisper to him once again, and for once your mind feels at peace for just a moment.

“i love you more,” he kisses your clothed shoulder and smiles.

“let me go shower so i can stop smelling like shit,” you chortle a little, grabbing a ‘Queen’ shirt—which used to be jean’s but you’ve stolen it—and some shorts.

he rolls his eyes, but obliges and lets you walk out of your room into the bathroom. you try avoiding the mirror as you get naked but it proves to be pointless when you catch a glimpse of a pimple. you almost want to kill jean for not pointing it out, but you know it would only hurt your feelings. you’ll take care of that after you shower.

he’s putting your clothes in the laundry hamper when you’re coming back into the room with the ones you just had on. he takes them from you and you started putting on deodorant and do your hair routine. you’ve taken care of your skin in the bathroom.

jean’s turning on your TV and pulls out a can of cold (favorite soda), placing it next to your hand on your—now—clear vanity.

“thank you,” you smile a little, wanting to laugh at how he’s standing behind you and watching intently.

“‘m almost done, jean.”

“did you brush your teeth? i don’t want to be in a comfortable snuggle position only for you to get up to brush your teeth,” he ignores the comment you’ve made.

“oh shit, no. thanks for reminding me. i haven’t brushed them in a couple days,” you sigh, scurrying off to the bathroom again and jean decides to pull out the vacuum he knows you keep in your closet.

he plugs it in and started vacuuming the best he can, and as he does so his mind shifts to levi. ‘i hang out with him too much...,’ he thinks to himself as he turns the vacuum off to see if the filter is clean.

you walk back in, “what the hell are you doing?”

“vacuuming,” he says nonchalantly, squatting a little to see if he got the floor under your vanity.

you laugh again, “i’m sorry. you don’t gotta do that.”

“i know. just wanted to,” he shrugs, unplugging it from the outlet and wrapping it back up.

you jump onto your bed, which now has clean sheets because of jean, and scoot toward the wall. jean closes your window and grabs your drink and scoots in behind you. he puts your drink onto the nightstand—his is already on it—and shuffles awkwardly to lay behind you.

“you wanna talk about it,” he asks, leaning on an elbow and looking at you.

“yeah...”

“whenever you’re ready, babe,” he takes ahold of your hand and kisses it.

“so, like, other than the shit about my mom i told you about, i don’t know. i don’t know what’s wrong, and i had that urge to just hurt myself. it scared me so bad. and what scares me is that i almost acted on it. like, am i okay? what the fuck is going on with me?? a-and i just kept pretending to be sick to my mom so i didn’t have to go to fucking school,” you start off slowly and start to cry as you think about what caused jean to come here, which was the abrupt disappearance of your presence at school.

“you’re okay. and i am so incredibly proud of you for not giving into the urge to harm yourself and for messaging me. unfortunately, you can’t avoid school until may. i need your dumbass to graduate,” you both giggle a little.

“i just.... i feel so bad about worrying everyone at school. like i didn’t mean to, but i fucking did. eren’s so fucking pissed at me right now, i just fucking know he is. god, i just want to be happy,” you sob and jean rubs your arm with his thumb to help soothe you a little.

“eren’s just pissed because he’s worried, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to be an ass towards you. you’ll be happy, my love, i know you will. you’ve just got to wait—let me finish—and i know you’ve been waiting for a long time, but it won’t just happen overnight y’know,” he smiles with an eyebrow raised at the end, nudging you with his elbow a little.

“maybe start being nicer to yourself, huh? you’re absolutely gorgeous, and i love you just the way you are, but my opinion shouldn’t matter. the only opinion on yourself that should matter is your own. and try speaking up more when floch and ymir hurt your feelings on accident,” jean tells you while he draws patterns into your skin with his fingers.

“it doesn’t feel like that, y’know? and like—i don’t want to be selfish or hurt anyone else or worry anyone else, cause what if that hurts them?”

he shakes his head, “babe, when it comes your own happiness, you’ve gotta be selfish sometimes. and calling floch and ymir out won’t hurt their feelings, sure, they’ll be a little pissy about it for a second but then apologize. it’s not like you’re telling them they’re cunts and to go fuck themselves. also, everyone will understand you being selfish in order to be happy. it might hurt or piss someone off in the moment when you make an action that’s selfish but in the long run, they’ll understand. and if they don’t, they’re a fucking doucher. answer this one question i’ve got for you.”

“okay...?”

“at the end of the day, who’re you gonna have?”

“myself...?”

jean starts nodding rapidly, reaching over to wipe snot off your face, “you’re going to have yourself at the end of the day. preferably, i’d like to say myself, but there are going to be times where i hurt your feelings unintentionally or where you’re pissed at me, and that’s okay. you’ve gotta start being selfish and i know it’s hard, but i promise you it’ll be so rewarding in the end.”

you sniffle a little and nod while you listen.

“and about being sad in general without provocation. it happens. it’s okay to be sad sometimes babe, it’s a normal human emotion and it just means you’re living correctly. but if you’re sad because of nothing for weeks on end, then maybe it’s time to try to do something. it’s okay to ask for help. maybe talk to your mom about increasing the dosage of your anti-depressants and going back to therapy?”

“i don’t know how.”

“you could write her a letter and tape it somewhere you know she’ll look. if you can’t talk about it face-to-face, write that in the letter,” you nod again at him, quietly asking for a hug.

he responds by just giving it, and hums happily.

“i love you so much,” he whispers, squeezing you tighter.

“i love you too,” you laugh and whisper at the same time.

jean knows this isn’t going to immediately make you happy, but sometimes what you need is to just be reminded that it’s okay to feel this way and that in the end it’ll all be okay. and for right now, that’s all you really need.

[themusedump]

emilie autumn + opheliac (2006) sentence memes because I’ve been listening to it a lot since it was put back onto spotify. contains a lot of triggers regarding violence, sexual assault, and other sorts of things. so please read at your own risk

opheliac

“I've been so disillusioned.” “I know you'd take me back but still I feigned confusion.” “I couldn't be your friend, my world was too unstable.” “You know the games I play and the words I say when I want my own way.” “You know the lies I tell.” “You know how hard it can be to keep believing in me when everything and everyone becomes my enemy.” “There's nothing more you can do. I'm gonna blame it on you.” “It's not the way I want to be.” “I'm open to attack.” “But I don't want to hurt you.” “That's no concern of yours now.” “You know how hard it can be to keep believing in me.” “There's nothing more you can do.” “I'm gonna blame it on you.” “Intelligent girls are more depressed because they know what the world is really like.” “A devil or an angel with no in between.”

swallow

“But I'll come back to haunt you if I drown.” “If I had a chance to change my mind, I wouldn't for the world.” “Can I trust you?” “I don't want to be a legend.” “Oh well that's a god-damned lie.” “To say I do this for the people, I admit is hardly true.” “You think this torment is romantic?” “But would that do any good?” “Then what am I so afraid of?” “The brighter the light, the darker the shadow.” “I've made up my mind.” “Go away“

liar

“I want to be your faithful one.” “I want to show you all the beauty you don't even know you hold.” “I'm hurting you for your own good.” “I'd die for you, you know I would.” “I want to mix our blood and put it in the ground so you can never leave.” “I want to earn your trust.” “You'll never be deceived.” “Liar, liar, liar, liar.” “I want to heal you pretty sweet.” “I'll spend eternity comparing all my poetry to yours.” “I want to see love through your eyes.” “You'll never have to compromise.” “I'd give up all my fame to fight your demons and your bloody wars.” “Are you suffering?“ “I want your suffering.” “I want your beautiful suffering.” “I want to see your pain.”

the art of suicide

“The pain too pure to hide.” “Why live a life that's painted with pity and sadness and strife?” “Why dream a dream that's tainted with trouble and less than it seems?” “Why bother bothering just for a poem or another sad song to sing?” “Why live a life?” “Why bother bothering?” “Well they should be disturbed.” “Because there's a story that ought to be heard.” “The world is full of poets. We don't need anymore.” “The world is full of singers. We don't need anymore.” “The world is full of lovers. We don't need anymore”

i want my innocence back

“I will cut you down.” “I want my innocence back.” “And if you can't pacify me I will break your bones.” “You think I'm bluffing just try me.” “I will never forget the words you used to ensnare me.” “You'll suffer for this I swear.” “And I demand you put my heart back in my hand.”

misery loves company

“I'm just another pretty face.” “You're not the first.” “You're not the last.” “Don't even ask.” “Do I need you? Yes and no.” “Do I want you? Maybe so.” “Did you plan this all along?” “Did you care if it was wrong?” “I'm not for you.” “You're not for me.” “I'll kill you first.” “You wait and see.” “You're one more selfish lover.” “You're so easy to read but the book is boring me.” “Pray for me if you want to.” “Pray for me if you care.” “Pray for me you fucker if you fucking dare.”

god help me

“I don't see how I can live this way.” “Won't you shine in my direction and help me?” “Won't you lend me your protection and help me?” “Believe me, this wasn't what I wanted.” “Am I guilty or am I just waiting around for the tide to come in so the truth can come out?” “And if I had a dollar for every time I repented the sin and commit the same crime, I'd be sitting on top of the world today.” “Just maybe I'll learn to help myself.” “Places, everyone, this is a test.” “Throw you stones, do your damage, your worst.” “But that doesn't compare to what I do to myself when you're not there.” “Don't make me choose, I've got too much to lose.” “I've got to much to fucking lose.”

shallot

“This room's gonna be my grave.” "There is no one who can save me.” “How long can I live this way?” “Is there no one I can pay to let me go?” “'Cause I'm half sick of shadows.” “I wanna see the sky.” “Everyone else can watch as the sun goes down.” “So why can't I?” “I've been waiting for the day I will surely die.” “I've been told that I'll die before I'm old.” “And the wind I know it's cold...” “But still I've got to get out of this place.”

gothic lolita 

“How old are you?“ “My life was ended by your hand, the kind of murder where nobody dies.” “The law won't arrest you.” “The world won't detest you.” “You never did anything any man wouldn't do.” “I'm just a dead little girl.” “So it's my fault?“ “You made me what I am today.” “A bundle of broken nerves. A mouthful of words I'm still afraid to say.” “Now that I'm old enough to love I couldn't begin to.”

dead is the new alive

“Despair's the new survival.” “You play the game. You'll never win.” “So take me now or take me never.” “I won't wait.” “You're already late.” “Choose your fate.” “How else can we survive?” “What is day without a blessed night?“ “What is peace without a blessed fight?”

i know where you sleep

“I know, the sickening thoughts that slither around your head.” “Manipulate me if you can, go on and fool me like your biggest fan.” “I know, the arrogant pride that poisons the truth you hear.” “Go on and show them who you really are.” “I know the secrets that you keep.” “I know, the tedious need to turn all your love into hate.” “You poor pathetic paranoid, is it just me or do you secretly enjoy it?“ “You play the victim very well.” “You build your self-indulgent hell.”

let the record show

“Why did I turn to you?“ “I only gave you the chance to prove the rumours true.” “I'm paying with my life.” “Don't think no one understands.” “It happens every day.” “Get them off and they'll let you go.” “You're jealous.” “Why it's a simple excuse for a complex crime.” “So write this on your soul or don't waste my time.” “I've got no evidence to prove my end and so you'll walk away.” “Nope, wrong again!”

306

“If it was a game why couldn't I play?” “Like the story I heard a lifetime ago.” “My reasons to live were my reasons to die. But at least they were mine.”

thank god i’m pretty

“Every skill I ever have will be in question.” “Every ill that I must suffer merely brought on by myself.” “t's lucky I hate to be taken seriously.” “I think my ego would fall right through the cracks in the floor if I couldn't count on men to slap my ass anymore.” “Thank God I'm pretty.”

marry me

“I'll hide my behavior with wine as my savior.” “But, oh, what beautiful things I'll wear!” “So I'll fuck who I choose for I've nothing to lose.” “We're coupled together through hell, hurt, and hunger.” “So why do I wish I was...“

[entishramblings]

The Miscalculated Whittled Elk [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: So I’ve been having terrible writers block and you guys were totally right: I needed to change my scenery and switch up my topic. Hence why I decided to take a mini break from my fanfic and write this Drabble/Imagine/One Shot or whatever you want to call it.

Request: @queenofmankind​ - hi there! Can I request a Legolas X Fem Elf Reader where she’s in love with him and does something to initiate a courting between them but Legolas turned her down because he thought he was in love with Tauriel just to find out that it’s actually the reader he’s in love with? but she already left Greenwood because of heartbreak & may be planning to sail to the undying lands? Thank you!

Paring: Legolas X Fem Elf Reader

Summary: (Y/N) confesses her love to Legolas after BOTFA but his emotions and mind is clouded by recent events. Happy Ending :)

Word Count: 1,456

Warnings: rejection, fluff, cuteness 

MASTERLIST

It was almost dusk; the sun was setting and the colors of the sky peaked through the leaves of the forest of Greenwood. The pink, orange, and purple ethereal light reflected off the water droplets that had collected among the branches from the day’s rain.

(Y/N), an member of the Mirkwood Guard, sat high in the branches of an old oak tree. She listened to the sound of nature as she whittled wood with her silver knife. The birds were singing and the gentle breeze that brushed through the air provided a space of tranquility. She gently pressed her blade against the dark spruce wood that she held nimbly in her hand. With impeccable accuracy she drug the sharp mental against it; a thin sliver pealed off and fell to the ground below her. 

She continued the process until the spruce wood took the shape of an elk. She smiled softly at her work. 

(Y/N)‘s childhood confidant, Prince Legolas, would be returning home from fighting a battle between five armies with his father and most of the Mirkwood guard. He had been gone for many moons and his absence revealed to her the feelings of her heart. She was always quite fond of him but over the years the platonic friendship began to alter into something deeper. She had made up her mind that she could not conceal her emotions any longer. She decided it was time to unveil her affection. 

The elleth heard the loud blare of the Greenwood horn indicating the arrival of the kingdom’s fighting force. 

(Y/N) felt her heart pound faster at the thought of seeing her friend again. She placed her knife back in her weapon’s belt and held the small elk in one hand. She easily swung down from the tree and took off in a sprint towards the castle. 

She arrived slightly out of breath and full of adrenaline. She gazed at the beat up and bruised warriors warily walking through the gates. She had missed one hell of a fight. Her eyes eventually laid on the blue eyed Prince and a smile crossed her lips. 

She pushed through the worn out elven warriors until she was face to face with her friend. He stopped moving and looked down at her, for he was quite a bit taller. 

“Legolas! I am glad to see you well!”

His eyes seemed dull and his jaw was clenched. His face was one of utter disinterest and disappointment. 

(Y/N) faltered. The battle must have been rough for he was not his usual joyful and content self. She thought maybe her gift would bring him some happiness. 

As the two elves stood still in the mob of disgruntled warriors, (Y/N) lifted the whittled elk up towards her chest. 

She glanced down at it before looking up once again into the blue pools of uncertainty and confusion. 

She spoke with a pure and gentle tone, “I carved this for you.” Her delicate fingers began to fiddle with the small figure in nervousness. “It is made of spruce—like the dark wood we would play in when we were young.” 

Legolas gazed intently at the intricate wooden carving in her hands. The design was elegant and simple but expertly done. His hands softly brushed against hers as he took the elk. 

“(Y/N), it is beautiful.” 

His lips parted when he realized what was intended by this gift. 

“But, I cannot accept it.”

He saw a flicker of sadness in her eyes and the tips of her ears flushed pink. Her heart was filled with disappointment and embarrassment. 

“Oh,” the feebly response escaped her lips quietly. If Legolas wasn’t an elf he would never had heard the soft sound. 

The Prince felt guilt rise in his chest. He sighed, “I apologize (Y/N). Things are complicated right now with Tauriel and I do not think this is the best of times.”

Tauriel. The name echoed in her ears. She should have known. She should have picked up on the Prince’s longing gazes and shifting attitude. 

(Y/N) shifted her gaze from him. “I understand,” she uttered quietly. She pushed past him, leaving the miscalculated affection and whittled elk in his hands.  

She could feel the tension rising in her chest and the blood rushing through her ears. Self-consciousness and dread shuttered through her body as she quickened her pace. Oh what a fool she was. Her heart ached and regret settled in her soul. 

(Y/N)’s pace quickened to a run as she made her way towards the stables. She couldn’t be in Greenwood any longer. She couldn’t see his sympathetic face everyday and be reminded of the rejection. 

She mounted her white horse and urged the gentle beast from the stable. (Y/N) wiped a tear from her cheek as her horse‘s hooves pounded against the ground towards Rivendell. She could not live in this world having given her heart away and it being brushed aside. It was known that a ship was sailing to the The Undying Lands within the next moon cycle, for that would be her heaven. She left the leaves of Greenwood behind as her heart shattered into millions of pieces.

 .......

 Legolas was left in the horde of exhausted warriors in shock and regret. He hands grasped the wooden elk as elves bustled around him. (Y/N)’s small form had been enveloped in the chaos and she was lost from his sight. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as his fingers grazed over the crevices of the spruce figure. He had used to be in love with (Y/N) but he had abandoned his desires centuries ago when she had shown no romantic interest in him. ‘Twas years later when Tauriel caught his sight. He had thought if he couldn’t pursue his deep affection for (Y/N) he would have to find love elsewhere. He cursed at himself and his ignorance. His words from minutes ago haunted him—what had he done? He would much rather give his heart to his first love than to Tauriel who had just been a distraction. 

Legolas’s head turned in the direction that (Y/N) went. His blue eyes glanced down at the elk in his hands. Oh what a fool he was. 

The blonde haired Prince took off after the elleth. He pushed through the crowd as he searched for a glimpse of her glimmering hair or a flash of her bright eyes. But alas, she had disappeared within those around her. 

He quickly made his way to the outdoors and the Elven Prince let his eyelids flutter closed in regret. The scent of fresh rain and earthy dirt filled his nostrils as the sound of leaves brushing together filled his ears. Oh a food he was indeed.

His eyes flew open as he caught the echoes of hooves reverberating through his mind. His heart cried out in pain when he realized what that meant. 

Legolas ran to the stables and mounted their fastest horse, Arod. He compelled the beast to dash after the elleth hastily. His heart pounded like the hooves of his dark brown steed as he caught sight of (Y/N)’s small frame. He pushed Arod to quicken his pace. 

The Prince was gaining on (Y/N) and she knew it. He urged Arod to run ahead of her and halt in the middle of the path—forcing her to stop dead in her tracks. 

He dismounted and stood await for her to do the same. He could see the hesitance in her body language and facial expression. Legolas’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked upon her with hopefully eyes. 

(Y/N) sighed but slipped of her horse where she stood firmly. 

The Prince rushed towards her and grasped her face in his hands. She felt his hot breath on her skin as he muttered a simple sentence, “Oh what a fool I’ve been.”

Legolas smashed his lips against hers. For a moment (Y/N)’s world froze in shock and confusion. But she soon sank her body against his. Their mouths moved in a gentle rhythm and she hungry pushed back. Their lips battled for dominance until they molded into one of union and closeness where they shared one singular breath. His hands wandered down to her waist as her’s tangled themselves in his soft blonde hair. Legolas felt a fire burn within his chest as he yanked her body closer to his—not that they could really get any closer. His teeth gently scraped against hers and he pulled on her bottom lip. She allowed his tongue entrance. She felt a slight blush creep up to her cheeks as she indulged in her passionate desire. The heat between them grew as their mouths moved together. 

Oh what fools they both had been. 

[sxfterhearts]

39. [9:18 pm]

➳ pairing: jinyoung x reader

➳ genre/warnings: the usual dose of fluff, office romance!au, accountant!jinyoung & lawyer!reader

➳ word count: 1,078 words

➳ summary: 39. “I like your laugh.”

➳ author's note: this is purely self-indulgent cos jy is my emotional kpop support boy 🥰 plus the song is pretty and i miss writing fluff!! enjoy~

➳ listen to: new light by NIve ♬

A half-eaten piece of butter and sugar bread. An emptied mug decorated with lipstick marks and dried stains of coffee. An abandoned maroon scrunchie, Jinyoung’s favourite, especially when it was tangled within your curled locks. Papers, papers, and even more papers littered all over what was once the third-floor meeting room table. Bits and pieces of sticky notes and ‘Sign Here’ flags in every colour of the rainbow stood out amongst the monotonous documents, resembling flicks of watercolour on an artist’s canvas. A web of cables connecting your laptop to its second monitor and to the power outlet hung haphazardly on the very edge, threatening to fall off the table.

And there you lay, in the middle of what you would call an organised chaos, with your head resting on an outstretched forearm. Jinyoung could already picture how your face would scrunch up in discomfort when you woke up, triggered by the pins and needles in your limbs. With his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his slacks, he walked further inside for a closer inspection of you in your natural habitat – slumped over a desk, exhausted, and surrounded by the work you loved so dearly.

Ever since high school, Jinyoung preferred numbers and account balances and general ledgers over words and legislations and cases. That was your forte. He could never understand how you willingly stayed up to skim through mountains of case materials without developing a head-splitting migraine. His head would spin and his eyes would go out of focus at the mere sight of your work. Not understanding was not the same as not accepting, though. Sure, if an executive offered him a million dollars to switch places with you, he’d politely decline, but Jinyoung was nothing but supportive of your career from day one.

That’s love, isn’t it? Two people will undoubtedly have their differences, disagreements, and misunderstandings. What’s most important, however, is that these two lovers can come to accept and embrace each other with their entire being. Jinyoung sees it as him doing his thing and you doing your thing during the day, yet coming home to each other during the night. He sees it as him chopping the vegetables and slicing the meat, while you fire up the pan and stir-fry the ingredients. Sure, individually you could make something decent enough to satisfy your hunger, but together… Together, you could create a hearty meal, a labour of love.

Tempted, Jinyoung sat down beside you as quietly as possible and faced you, mirroring your posture. While the two of you worked in the same building, there was never much of a reason or excuse to visit the other during office hours other than the occasional lunch or office-wide gathering. The opportunity to just sit with you and watch you was too precious to pass up.

So he did. He watched, mesmerised by the way the wrinkles on your forehead and the frown on your lips that you wore so often were ironed out completely; entranced by how your smooth skin contrasted with the glistening diamond pendant of your necklace, the one he got you for your last anniversary because you didn’t like promise rings; amazed by your lengthy eyelashes, your soft tresses, your chapped yet pink and utterly kissable lips.

Jinyoung wanted to kiss you, then. He missed the kisses you shared, even though you most definitely locked lips for quite a while when he joined you in the bathroom first thing this morning, still dazed and sleepy. He missed them for a whole other reason. He missed how he could feel your lips involuntarily rise to form a smile, which, although he couldn’t bear witness to due to his incredibly close proximity to your face, he was certain could light up his entire day. He felt his heart squeezing within his chest.

“I miss your happier self.” Jinyoung muttered to no one in particular. A hand reached out to brush against the edge of your lips with a feather-light touch, swiping away a trace of drool. “I like it better when you’re happy. I don’t like it when you’re sad, or stressed. I wish I could take all of that away for you.” His fingers were acting on its own accord at this point, stroking over the apples of your cheeks, soft and tender. “I like your smile. And I like your laugh, even though you sound like a dying seal most of the time.”

You stirred slightly, repositioning yourself to get more comfortable. His fingers halted immediately, eyes wide with alarm, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his whispered confessions. It reminded him too much of the time he first confessed his feelings for you, and you left him hanging for a full fifteen minutes to answer an urgent phone call for your boss.

“At least I can easily identify my girlfriend from her laugh when we’re out with friends…” Jinyoung continued his monologue, withdrawing his hand while grinning to himself.

A soft, annoyed whine emitted from your lips. You buried your face into your arm, curling your body inwards in a desperate search for warmth.

Perhaps you were cold, Jinyoung hypothesised. Reminding you to bring a cardigan or an extra layer of clothing was an integral part of his morning routine. His eyes scanned around the room but failed to find your knitted grey cardigan.

“Cold…” You complained, eyelids batting as you slowly woke from your nap. “Hmm? Jinyoung?”

A shiver ran through your body, forcing you to fold your arms inwards to compensate for the chilly air blasting out of the air-conditioner. This didn’t go unnoticed by Jinyoung, who was rushing to remove his blazer. He carefully placed it on your curled-up body and gave your shoulders a light squeeze before starting to organise the scattered papers.

“Why… How come you’re here?” You paused, letting out a yawn. “What time is it? Are you done for the day?”

He reached for your lame excuse of a sandwich and threw it out without a second thought. “I am, I packed up and came to check on you.”

Jinyoung shot down your pained expression at the wasted food with a stern look of his own, the one that made interns cower in fear. You knew better than to get intimidated, of course, and made a silly face at him. He shook his head at your silliness, poking your side as revenge. You squealed. “Move your butt, babe. Let’s get you home.”

[liquefied-cat]

I posted 154 times in 2021

23 posts created (15%)

131 posts reblogged (85%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 5.7 posts.

I added 34 tags in 2021

#acking chats - 17 posts

#comfort - 3 posts

#tokyo rev x reader - 2 posts

#holy shit im not okay - 2 posts

#ackingsmoots - 2 posts

#kung lao - 2 posts

#he hits different - 2 posts

#mk11 - 2 posts

#im done for - 1 posts

#aahhh - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 36 characters

#jekwksnsnsnsjkung lao 😭😭💗💗💗💗💗

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

lowkey want to hold Fujin or Kung Lao and just cry

12 notes • Posted 2021-04-18 05:27:12 GMT

#4

somebody help me Im turning into an Enmu fucker

20 notes • Posted 2021-06-15 12:03:20 GMT

#3

you think kabal is fast enough to be dippin n dodgin on them credit card payments

43 notes • Posted 2021-05-21 21:37:50 GMT

#2

Oh So Special.

copium with bonten mikey because i am superior and sad

Synopsis!: Mikey takes you out for sweets :')

Warnings!: None, just fluffy stuff that's pretty sweet.

A/N: so sweet i could cry. this is purely self indulgent, based on my emotions when i was sadge so it may seem ooc sorry y'all but enjoy 💙

See the full post

121 notes • Posted 2021-11-29 05:21:57 GMT

#1

Coming Home Late

Just a little Kazuha x Reader for comfort. Hope you enjoy!

It was late. The days had gotten longer, and the nights shorter. For you right now, your only thought was whether or not the one you loved would be coming home. As much as you didn't like thinking of it, your beloved was a fugitive. Not only that, he often set sails with Captain Beidou on The Crux. You didn't like to think about it, but the thought of him not returning home often plagued your mind. Due to these thoughts, resting at night would often be seen as a difficult task. You couldn't bear it. You try to remind yourself that he does possess incredible fighting skill, but as he once told you about his friend, even the greatest can fall.

When you met him, him leaving or rather, fleeing Inazuma was how you both saw each other anyway. He found his ways through Liyue, where you currently lived, and because of this, you both became rather fond of each other quite quickly. Before long, you both began to start a relationship in due time. Every day with him was the best it could be, listening to him play a soft song on his leaf-made instrument would be better than that of any Tavern song from Mondstat. Not to mention, he would only play songs that he thought of when you crossed his mind. It was like, they were made for you and you alone.

After joining Captain Beidou, however, he seemed to be away a lot more than you'd like. He comes home still, but it's the time separated that drives you wild. His touch when he hugged you before he left lingered for life, and his voice echoed throughout your mind to tell yourself that he was safe. That he would come home. Today, was different. He hadn't come home yet, and it was starting to get past Midnight.

You could barely think. Barely sleep. Each time you closed your eyes, your memories of him would play in your mind. His soft, gentle touch grazing your body, the way his lips are when he speaks of you, and his voice being as tender and kind as it is. You hated being away from him, and sleep wasn't coming to you because of it. Just when you thought you'd never rest, the door to your complex suddenly opened.

Ever so slowly, did the man you loved dearly begin to show himself. His Scarlet eyes peeking through the crack of the door. He saw you were awake, saw how broken and distraught you had looked. Locking eyes and seeing you in pain, brought him more hurt to his heart that he could ever imagine. He rushed in, closing the door and locking it so no one else could come in before slowly starting to undress himself. Naturally, your face started to burn red. He looked like he had been worked out of his mind, tired and ready for sleep himself.

"Kazuha..."

You softly muttered, before being hushed by the man who was now behind you.

He was undressing bits of clothing so he could get in bed with you. He understood that he took too long to come home and caused you to worry. Kazuha didn't want to wait another second to feel your warm skin again. He snuggled close, behind you as the big spoon despite being a little short himself.

"Kazuha.. I'm.."

"It's fine, Dear. A little issue came up with The Crux, and the Traveler came by to get to Inazuma. I was safe, and the winds of yearning allowed me to get back to your arms."

You rarely understood what he meant when he spoke like that, but it brought you ease when he did today. Kazuha Kaedehara, your beloved fugitive.

"Forgive me for making your night restless... It shan't happen again, my Sakura Blossom."

The nicknames he gave you were often from plants, but this time it seemed strangely comforting.

"I-I love you, Kazuha."

Kazuha burried himself within your neck, and you could feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

He still isn't used to being told that, huh? Wrapping his arms around your stomach, Kazuha kisses your neck while he's burried in it, laughing softly to himself.

"I love you too, my Dear."

125 notes • Posted 2021-07-31 20:29:41 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[sunflowerhae]

Lifeboat

N.J (2k)

A/N• this is purely indulgent. It also has quite heavy themes, but at this point are any of us surprised. I want to make something clear, the reader doesn’t do what she does bc of what happens with her and Jaemin (I’m trying not to spoil). I mean, that’s just a tip of the iceberg type situation. That being said, if you are having similar thoughts as our dear reader, please call your countries suicide hotline, and/or talk to someone you trust in your life. ALSO, I am not trying to romanticize any of the topics I wrote about, I’m trying to show that even the people that seem to have it all can be just as lost and broken as the rest of us, also that the most important thing you could be to a person is someone who asks them if they’re okay. Sometimes, that’s all a person needs - Someone to listen.

READ!⚠️angst, suicide,character death, drugs, heavy self-hating words, depiction of depression/mental illness, not specified, but insinuates⚠️

{🎵SOTS☁️; Lifeboat, Elle McLemore}

The world seemed to close in on you as you stared at the boy who stood before you with a hardened gaze in his eyes. While you only stood a good 3 feet away from him, you could feel the anger and helplessness radiating off of him, transferring itself onto you in sadness and heartbreak.

“Why?” Was the only thing you could manage to get past your lips.

“Y/n, it’s not that I don’t like you, of course I do. We’ve been dating for 2 years, but I’ve just been... uncomfortable almost the whole time. It’s not your fault, it’s just, your life. I can’t handle being with one of the most popular girls in school. You seem to have it all figured out, and everyone loves you, and I feel pushed to the side sometimes.” You didn’t understand why Jaemin was mad, but the small space under the bleachers where you both stood was enough to suffocate you to the point where you didn’t care to ask.

He didn’t understand.

They never understood.

No one.

You wanted to fight to save your relationship, but the words choked into the back of your throat, just like they did when Soojin would bully people in front of you, and you wanted to scream at her and pull the other person into your arms and whisper that it will all be okay and apologize apologize apologize, but you stayed rigid on her flank, silently trying to survive until you could get to Jaemins arms, or to the bottom of a beer bottle at yet another house party you were constantly forced to attend with your other two friends.

You choose to swallow your spit, and ask him, “is this because of soojin? Did she say something to you?” You knew your “dear” friend had a certain distaste for your long term boyfriend, because - as she had worded it - his kind doesn’t belong next to someone that Soojin had deemed acceptable enough to befriend (you); “His kind” being not necessarily the most popular. Him and his other friends were amazing people, and you wished you would have befriended them on the first day of freshman year, instead of the blonde girl in your Art 1 class that always had a red scrunchie. When Jaemin introduced you to them, you could tell they were hesitate to let you into their life - what with your position within your schools hierarchy system. You honestly didn’t blame them. However, after a while they warmed up to you, and you felt like you finally fit in with people. You thought these people would become your life long friends; long after you’ve left high school and forgotten all about the life you unwillingly lead.

You suppose that is no longer the case.

“No, yes, god I don’t know, y/n. It’s just, everything! You have friends that are bitches, and I never know when you’re just going to leave me and spread some terrible rumor about me!” He was silently yelling now. It was after school, and the football team was on the field - the other side of where you stood - practicing. There were people running on the track, cheerleaders practicing next to the field, leftover students wondering the grounds. Everyone was living, moving on with their lives and turning along with the Earth - why did you feel frozen? Why did you feel like nothing was ever going to keep moving and be okay and the world was never going to be beautiful again?

“Is that what you expect me to do, Jaemin? After two years of knowing me, is that what you think of me?”

“God, y/n, maybe! I see who you align yourself with so I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a bitch just like them!” You understood he was just hurting, like you, but that didn’t make the words hurt any less. You took a couple steps back from his figure with slow nods, before turning around fully and booking your way to your car.

Jaemin watched your retreating figure with tears curling into his eyes. He left not long after you did, still thinking about you on the way home. He didn’t know this at the time, but that was the last time he ever saw you. His first love, his first heartache.

You felt guilty.

You always did. You always had this insistent chewing at your intestines; this constant voice in your head telling you that everyone was better than you, and that you didn’t deserve the praise you got for being a good person.

You tried to fight the words and the icky feelings off with trips to the volunteer center - usually with Jaemin. You went that night, hoping that this constant pain in your heart after hearing jaemins smooth, venom-filled words would choke back and leave your system, like the terrible feelings usually did when you helped people. However, no matter how many people smiled at you, and no matter how many lives you got to help, the feeling only grew more and more.

You are worthless, y/n.

You only do charity work for your own need.

No one likes you.

You’ll never be loved.

Not even Jaemin loves you.

These ill thoughts were a normal occurrence for you. Usually, Jaemin would lay you down, rub your stomach, and whisper in your ear how beautiful you were to him, inside and out.

You were a nuisance and a waste to him, y/n.

The feelings never left, and you could tell people knew something was wrong with you, so you chose to leave the center early. On your way out, a familiar face had asked you where Jaemin was. You pretended you didn’t hear them.

Your room was dark. Usually, if you couldn’t have Jaemin, you would go to your parents. However, they were away at a dinner event for your mother’s work. You would never go to Soojin, and while you loved Haeyong, she had a tendency to tell Soojin about what you two privately talked about; always trying to get brownie points with the blonde girl who seemed to secretly hate her. You figured there was someone you could go to, and it didn’t hurt to try.

Y/n [10:57pm] u up???? I kinda need someone to talk to rn hAha. Read

Y/n [10:59pm] hello? 👉👈 Read

Y/n [11:02pm] Haechan why r you leaving me on read bro?? Ik he’s your best friend, but we don’t have to talk about him, I just need someone to talk to pLS pls. Read

[MISSED CALL FROM Y/N] 11:02PM

Haechan [11:03pm] listen y/n we shouldn’t talk anymore, I’m sorry. You were a good friend, but Jaemin was and always will be first to me. And he’s right, we never know when you’re going to do a 180 on us and tell all of our secrets to everyone. We can’t - and never have been able to - trust you. I’m sorry, really. You’re a popular girl. You don’t need us, you’ll forget. When we became friends with you, we didn’t really want to, Jaemin kinda forced us to, I hope u understand. :/ we’ll forget about u, u forget about us. Deal? Read

Y/n [11:04pm] um ok. Sorry for bothering you all, have a good night Read

Y/n [11:03pm] when will u be home?Read

[MISSED CALL FROM Y/N] 11:04PM

Mom [11:06pm] not for a while, ask Jaemin to come over if you’re scared of being alone. Read

Y/n [11:06pm] mom i hate to be annoying but can u and dad come home rn??? I need u Read

[MISSED CALL FROM Y/N] 11:06PM

Mom [11:08pm] are you dying? Has someone broken in? Are you unsafe?Read

Y/n [11:08pm] um,,,,no Read

Mom [11:10pm] well then no y/n. You know how much this award means to me, I’ve been constantly working lately and finally might get recognized for it. If I leave now, I might not get it. Can whatever you need wait? Read

Y/n [11:11pm] Um yeah. I love u Read

Mom [11:12pm] u too💖 Read

Why were you never first?

Why was there no one who asked you if you were okay?

If there was, what would you say?

See y/n? No one likes you.

You’re a bother to them.

Maybe you should fix that.

Maybe if you made their lives easier, they would love you.

You didn’t deserve their love, but maybe?

Maybe the pills could love you.

They were always there for you.

Maybe, they could help others love you too.

Love love love love.

Maybe.

Maybe.

They say your parents found you in bed.

They thought you were sleeping. I mean, all your lights were off, it was late.

But in the morning, when your mother came to wake you up and saw that your eyes were wide open, well....

They found the note on your desk across the room.

It was dated a year before.

You had written it a year before.

Everyone admitted that it was such a beautiful note. Heartbreaking? Yes. gut-wrenching? Of course. But beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

They gathered everyone into the gym the next day in intervals. Freshman, who didn’t understand what was really happening, but had heard your name and definitely knew who you were, and could put two and two together.

Next, the sophomores. Like the freshman, they only had heard of you. Some had met you, some cried. You were kind, they knew.

After them, the juniors. Chenle and Jisung were sitting in the corner. Jisung was sobbing into Chenle’s lap, while silent tears fell down the olders’ face. You had always been willing to play video games with them, and were such a kind hearted person. They remember last night, when they were all sitting together and haechan had read your texts you sent out loud, and all of them were so busy feeling for Jaemin, that they blindly informed Haechan on what he should say. On how to break your heart. Chenle wished Haechan had called her.

Finally, the seniors. Soojin and Haeyong sat in the back, as always. They were both upset because you had not been answering their texts.

Renjun, Haechan, Jeno, and Jaemin were sitting on the other side. They had not been told what the assembly was about, but when the teacher got the call about it, halfway through math, she sat at her desk for a couple of seconds with her head in her hands. They knew whatever the assembly was about was not good.

Haechan was the first to react out of the four.

He whispered your name silently with wide eyes rounded on his face. His mind went to the first time you met him. You played him in a round of Overwatch to get him to warm up to you, and easily beat him. Besides Jaemin, he was probably the one you were closest to.

Jeno just kept looking at his lap with evident tears denting dark spots onto his jeans. Renjun, who was sitting next to Jaemin, couldn’t take his eyes off the boy to his right, terrified that he would faint.

Jaemin felt sick. He knew he looked pale, and his head felt a bit dizzy. He tasted metallic in his mouth, and finally registered that he was biting the inside of his cheek so hard, he was drawing blood. He wanted to leave, but he was too far up on the risers to get down.

Soojin cried. It was uncharacteristic of her, but at this point she didn’t care. How had she not seen it? Was she that self centered that she had really not seen it on you? Her best friend?

Haeyong wished you had called her, wished you had told her. But why would you? She knew she didn’t deserve to hear your heartache, but she still wished.

They read out your note. Your beautiful, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching note. They read it. And the student body listened.

I float in a boat

In a raging black ocean

Low in the water

And no where to go

The tiniest lifeboat

With people I know

Cold,

Clammy and crowded

The people smell desperate

We’ll sink any minute

So someone must go

The tiniest lifeboat

With people I know

Everyone’s pushing

Everyone’s fighting

Storms are approaching, there’s no where to hide

If I say the wrong thing

Or I wear the wrong outfit

They’ll throw me right over the side

I’m hugging my knees

And the captain is pointing

Well who made her captain?

Still, the weakest must go

The tiniest lifeboat

Full of people I know

The tiniest lifeboat

Full of people I know

Lemme know if you’d like a part two? Idk. Like I said this is purely indulgent so it’s not that good sorry :///

[clairerobbin-blog]

To Give This Grief a Shape

When Did I Lose My Voice?

I don’t know when it happened—what age, what moment—but somewhere along the way, I stopped feeling like I could truly speak. Maybe it’s because everyone is carrying so much in all political, emotional, and physical ways. Or maybe it’s because life quietly taught me that my sadness isn’t big enough to take up space.

My dad is preparing for the hospital tomorrow. In many ways, I’ve already lost him. The man who shaped my world, who filled it with deep curiosity, music, and pure magic, who made me feel safe simply by being Alvin—is fading. And, as I watch him lose his identity, I feel like I’m losing a part of my own.

His identity isn’t just his; it is nestled so deeply into the atoms of me and into who I’ve become. And now, as his sense of self unravels, I too feel untethered, like a part of me is disappearing with him. The hardest part is he doesn’t understand what’s happening. He doesn’t know about the surgery or any pain he’ll have to endure. And I can’t bear the cruelty of that—of not being able to explain.

And yet, I feel so ashamed of how much this hurts. I’m not a child anymore, or even a young adult. Shouldn’t I be able to handle this with grace, with more bravery? Shouldn’t I be strong enough to carry it quietly? My dad is relatively old and relatively young. He’s lived a full life. There are people far younger than me, facing unimaginable losses, and yet here I am – relatively old, relatively young—falling apart over my old Dad. It feels selfish, grossly indulgent, and frankly disgusting and embarrassing to be grieving so deeply for a man who still breathes, still laughs, and still feeds bread to birds. How did those despicable feelings ever get tied up in the love I have?

But grief doesn’t listen to logic. 

Grief doesn’t care how old someone is or how much worse other people might have it. It doesn’t measure itself against the pain of others—it simply is. And maybe that’s what feels so unbearable—not just the grief itself, but the utter damn shame of it. The utter damn embarrassment of feeling this sad, this lost, at a time in my life when I should know how to get on with it and navigate it all.

When I should know to just shut the hell up.

But I am, after all, a writer. And in these moments when I feel so squeezed of expression, when it seems like my voice has vanished entirely, I’m compelling myself to write anyway.

I miss the days when I would take the weight of existence—the sorrow, the fear, the love—and scribble it illegibly into a song. I miss standing on a stage, with a guitar, letting it all spill out into something tangible, something I could make and share. Back then, during a time I can hardly remember, I didn’t feel embarrassed to be sad. I didn’t feel silenced by shame or swallowed in self-doubt. Now, I feel muted, as though my voice has been stolen by time, by life, by this unwritten rule that says grief should be small and polite.

I find myself terrified by questions I can’t answer. Is it pathetic, foolish, or ‘too sensitive’ to feel this way? To hold onto this sadness so tightly? Or is it brave to admit that grief, no matter how it comes, is always profound because it’s born from love?

Grief is a chisel— revealing the shape of what mattered most.

And yet, even knowing this, I feel so afraid to speak. Do you ever feel like this? Like the world has somehow convinced you that your grief is too loud, too unseemly, too much? Do you ever feel silenced, not by others, but by the weight of your own shame?

This isn’t a plea for comfort or answers. I’m not looking for reassurance or sympathy. I just needed to put words to the silence inside me. To give this grief a shape, even for a moment.

[shotosprincess]

When he loves me — Iwa ♡︎ Oikawa

LISTEN TO: “ CLOUD 9 “ — BEACH BUNNY

ART: UNKNOWN ( i found it as a sticker on picsart since i couldnt find any good iwaoi screencaps so if yk who the artist is plspls lmk !! ty !! )

｡･:*:･-: ✧ :,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

pairing: iwa x oikawa

summary: iwa shyly plays oikawa a song he wrote on a whim ,, and years later ,, after they fell apart ,, oikawa attends one of iwa’s concerts and hears their song,, the song,, once more .

genre: angst + fluff !! <3 ugh i love oikawa my bby but i absolutely love him and iwa together sm too ajjdjjf

a/n: 3am writing for comfort innit (•̀ᴗ•́)و smhsmh it’s lowkey so dramatic ?? idk why i was feeling so melancholic ?? but i live for the yearning anyways lmao <//3

“ Hey...wanna...hear something I’ve been working on? “

Iwa’s voice shifted to one of a far softer tone, unusually uncertain of himself as he gripped the bedsheets beneath him in an anxious hold, turning away from Oikawa whilst a deep vermillion blush tainted his shy-stricken face.

The hazel-haired setter lifted his mouth into a gentle smile, skin mirroring a similar red to Iwa’s. His head lolled to the side, and Iwa swore he felt something flutter within him. The fist which he clutched the bedsheets within closed even further.

“ Sure, Iwa-chan! “

A hard gulp. Iwa swallowed his nerves down, fingers hovering over the strings of his freshly-purchased guitar, hesitant. Trembling, even.

Light wisps of brown swept just over Oikawa’s eyes as he put down the volleyball he had been mindlessly spinning, and covered Iwa’s hands with his own. He looked up with a reassuring grin, deepened-honey gaze colliding with one of the enchanting midnight sky.

“ It’s okay. It’s just me. But of course, you don’t have to play if you don’t wan— “

Iwa swats his hand away. “ Of course I wanna, dumbass! “ He barked.

With a frustrated huff, his fingers find a home amongst the sound as they begin to delicately strum the translucent strings. His eyes fell closed, lost in the music, albeit fairly cliche, as he wordlessly played the song which was most special to him.

For what reason it held such a cherished place in his heart, he did not know. Not truly, at least. Admittedly, he had written it purely on a whim, clutching onto the fleeting remnants of a foreign euphoric high. The crazed rush of fingers furiously clacking against the keyboard filled the silence of his room, lasting well into the evening. He had so much to say, so much to express, and yet it was only through the words appearing on the screen in which he could ever hope to communicate it.

He had never even planned on sharing it. After all, it was merely a crappy, rushed song put together purely by the rawness of an unknown emotion, and during ungodly hours of the night out of all times. It was nothing special, really.

To him, at least.

And yet in a hushed, timid tone, he began to sing:

“ I don’t wanna seem the way I do...but I’m confident when I’m with you... “

Oikawa’s lips parted in sheer awe. The delicate swirls of the instrumental blended flawlessly into the angelic quality of Iwa’s singing. His muscles tensed. He shook it away.

What the hell is this? Was he...nervous? No, no, it can’t be. This is Oikawa-fucking-Tooru we’re talking about!

He could do nothing but stare intently in a silent adoration as he allowed his heartbeat to meld with the smoothness of the melody, sweeping him out of Iwa-chan’s bedroom and into a whole other universe entirely. One where there exists no pain, no sadness, no fear. One where tears dried before they could even splatter upon the ground. One where everything was happy and perfect and...good.

—

IWA

Five years have passed, yet I miss him all the same. If anything, the ache has only grown to, somehow, prove itself increasingly unbearable over the time we’ve spent apart. My stare falls upon my guitar. Not the new one, which is this modern, flashy model with a bold red design, but my first-ever guitar, boasting its worn-out strings and dulled body. The hole in my heart digs itself impossibly deeper.

We had dated not long after that night—the night I played my song to him, and suddenly it became our song. We would whip it out like a handy party trick whenever we’d hangout with the rest of the team, and it was...nice to say the very least. Well, while it lasted, of course. Highschool love, teenage love, is constantly fleeting. Temporary. That was my philosophy at least, until Oikawa Tooru appeared and changed everything. I disregarded every sense of rationality, and all for the blissful rush of romance which he offered. The sneaking out, the small notes snuck into each other’s lockers, the way he draped his jacket over me when I got cold, the tender kisses shared in a darkened room.

I loved it. All of it. And when I lost him, I missed him too. All of him.

I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised, though. After all, teenage love is but a transient feeling, is it not? I had to drill the reiteration of my old motto back into my head when we split, so that I may never allow myself to yield to the temptations of love, or at least the attractive promise of one, ever again. Eventually, we had to go our separate ways. He pursued volleyball, and I chased relentlessly after a different growing passion of mine, though honestly rather unexpected; music.

And now here I am. Sitting backstage at my own show, waiting patiently for my cue. My foot taps a random rhythm against the floor as I mentally debate with myself whether or not my choice for the opening song truly was the best option.

I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?

He might be watching.

Fair, but would he even recognize me? Does he even remember me at all? I mean, it’s been so long...

I think he’d remember something as sentimental as the song you first played him. I mean, you were the first guy he ever dated.

Yeah, keyword: “ dated “. He’s probably moved on by now.

Shit, do you think he’s found someone new already? What if he brought them to the show?

Nah, nah. That’s highly unlikely. Impossible, even. The latter, that is. It’s not exactly that popular of a show.

Right, you’re right. So there’s nothing to worry about. Hakuna-fuckin-matata, right?

I suck in a sharp breath as the lights come on, laughing dryly.

Hakuna-fuckin-matata.

—

OIKAWA

My hands fiddle with one another as I push my way past the busy crowd to find a spot amongst the front row. A cheery girl with astonishingly-saturated red hair and an almoat-overwhelming brightness about her, greets me. I scoff, amused.

A fangirl, no doubt. Charming.

“ Oikawa! Ohmygoshohmygosh, Oikawa Tooru!! Hi!! I’m—I’m— “

I glance at the front row, which is only a few steps away, as her blubbered words start to blur together. I laugh.

“ A fan, right? Want my autograph or something? A picture, maybe? “

Her eyes light up vastly and she begins to bounce up and down with the same enthusiasm I’ve noticed to be common among practically all fangirls.

“ YES! Ohmygosh, yesyesyesYES!! “

My grin widens as I click my blue pen, which I carry around for autographs ( oh, the pains of being famous ), and hurriedly sign my name on her collared shirt. It was a fairly pretty garment, I’ll admit, but at this moment I didn’t really care, and I’m sure neither did she, judging by the way she squealed excitedly and took a spam of what had to be a million-and-one selfies with it.

I finally find a place among the jumping people at the front, taking in the atmosphere. The lights dim, and brighter white ones turn on in their place.

The show is about to start.

—

IWA

“ Hey, everyone. I— “ The mic whines with feedback. I wince, wrapping my free hand around it and trying again.

“ I’m—I’m opening with a song that’s very dear to me. I wrote it way back in highschool, but it’s always stuck with me, kinda like a safety net...of sorts. I uh, hope you enjoy. “

Shit, why am I being so damn awkward? I’ve never been this awkward before a show. Maybe it’s because of that damn opening song. Oh well. Too late to back out now.

Irritated, I push the thought away, wetting my lips as the drowning claps and whoops from the crowd cheer me on. My hand hovers just over the strings. It’s shaking. No matter. I close my eyes, and imagine him holding them. Him encompassing my hands within the warmth of his, just like he did all those years, which were now lost in the past. Him looking at me, him telling me it’s okay. Him.

I breathe all my nerves out.

Him.

And I begin to play.

The awkwardness melts away almost instantaneously as I pour every dripping ounce of my heart out into the song, the music swelling wildly with every emotion I had forced in for the dreariness of these five years. My eyes shoot open when the chorus hits. I feel like I’m king of the world.

I catch a familiar set of eyes. Richly brown. Deep.

Oh shit.

My breath hitches when I realize who they belong to; Him. His. He-

No, no, it couldn’t be. Could it?

It felt too real, as if I’ve somehow managed to reduce his very existence to nothing but romanticized self indulgent daydreams of what we once had, woven into the vast vagueness of song lyrics with a naïve hope of what could’ve been. And now here he was, at my concert of all places, for god knows what reason. The colourful lights fell upon his face in the most flattering manner, though admittedly I suppose anything would be flattering on him either way. But under this light especially, at my concert, he looked nothing short of perfect. Of lovely.

But of course he was. This was Oikawa-fucking-Tooru, after all.

The chorus hits with a sharp accent. I belt with all that I am, for the boy who took a rough sketch of a dream and made it reality, for the boy who found an unmatched sense of home among those of his highschool volleyball team, for the boy who wound up so foolishly falling in love with his best friend. For him, for my fans, but most of all, for me.

“ But when he loves me, I feel like I’m floating, when he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody— “

I maintain eye contact with him. It’s scary, burning holes into my tattered soul, which I had pieced together so carefully with cathartic lyrics scratched into the pages of creased notebooks. I’m secretly scared that his gaze will somehow break it all down again. But that’s when I finally understand; it’s him. This, this song, it’s about him. It’s always been about him. There will be no one else, could be no one else for me. That...sheer elation, the unfiltered emotion which sparked this song to begin with—I understood now. That was love. More specifically, love which my chest held for Oikawa. It’s as if I’ve been harshly disillusioned to see what I’d been unconsciously denying all these years, seeing him here. It’s always been Oikawa. How could I not have known? After all, I’m constantly recalling the day he held me in a tight embrace after one of our best matches, happy tears staining my damp jersey as he whispered in my ear the praise I’ve subconsciously always wished to hear.

“ You did good. “

Though it seems painfully mundane, simple to anyone else, it was...different, coming from his lips, hearing it in his voice. I took that compliment and kept it close to me for all eternity, immortalizing it within the varying notes of this song. I stare right back at him with a newfound fervour, an unknown intent, a epiphanic strength.

“ Even when we fade eventually to nothing, you will always be my favourite form of lovely. “

His eyes widen.

—

OIKAWA

My heart clenches as Iwa freely powers through the rest of the song. But during this moment, it feels as though it was created solely for us. As if the universe, as if fate itself had decided that despite the harshness of this world, and every little force fighting to keep us apart, this one moment, if anything, was ours. Truly ours. Our song, our moment. Ours. Time suspended itself indefinitely as the onyx hearth of his gaze finally met with mine. Unexpectedly enough, it stayed there.

And everything fell into place.

The song didn’t take me to a paradise without tears, or pain, or sorrow anymore. It took me to a place with Iwa in it. I realize now that...I want the tears. I want the pain. I want the grief. I want the good and the bad and the light and the dark, so long as I can have Iwa there with me through it all. I want him. All of him. I’ve want to love him enough to love his “ unglam “ moments and his admirable aspects all the same. I want to be there with him through every body-wrecking tear, every hearty laugh, and every glimmer of happiness. I want to be able to see the face he makes during a scary movie, to open an umbrella for him during the rain. I want to see the sunlight glow upon his cheek, I want to count the stars with him until I fall asleep. I want everything about him, for to me, he is everything. And it’s this song...this damned song which brought it all back.

It was ours. And I realize now...it was about...me. I mean, I’ll admit that I’ve always been a little more on the conceited side, but how could you deny it? It had to be. It had to. Had to. I wanted it to, at least. I wanted it to be about me so desperately, it sent a cold pain through my chest. A single, lonely tear falls down my cheek as the crowd around me erupts into a sea of laughter and off-tune singing from the audience.

What if it wasn’t? I mean, you guys broke up. You told him you moved on. Yes, it was a lie to lessen the pain, but he didn’t know that. What if it was about someone else completely and you’d just been an idiot this whole time? What if—

The concert comes to a close much faster than I thought it would, much faster than I would’ve ever wished for it to. I don’t know what I’m doing, what I’m thinking, but my legs move before I even have a chance to question them. I’ve always been one to think before acting, hence why I’m such a star on the court, but this time, my emotions seem to be taking over. I don’t know what’s come over me, what this unusual, hot feeling is. It’s exciting and intimidating all at once, and I hate it because I know what it must be. In a hot flash, I find myself standing at the door of Iwa’s changing room. How many bodyguards I must have recklessly shoved out of the way to get here in the blur of adrenaline, I don’t even want to begin to think about.

My hand freezes over the door. “ Iwa “ is engraved in bold gold letters with a deeply-etched star sticking out at the bottom. Taking a deep breath, I knock frantically.

“ I-Iwa-chan? It’s uh...it’s Oikawa. “

—

IWA

I pause in the midst of buttoning up my shirt. A solid three are left undone. But his voice...how could I ignore it? Ignore him? I haven’t heard his voice in what feels like eternity, but I’d be kidding myself if I had said I’d forgotten it. The constant yearning was always so irritating. Such a pain. At least it made for decent music, I mean, I’ve been booking shows. But alas, one problem before another.

“ O-Oikawa? “ I slowly pace to the doorknob as I twist it open.

Holy shit.

It is him after all. He hasn’t changed a bit. He remains the charming, handsome man I remember him to be, even after all this time has passed.

“ How’d you get—why are you here? “

“ Iwa, there’s...there’s just...there’s something I need to ask. “

“ Huh? “

“ That song...our song.... “

“ Shit, right! I, uh...sorry. I didn’t ask you about it because I honestly didn’t expect you to show up at all. It’s been what, five years? “ I stumble subtly over my words, rubbing the back of my neck.

He turns away sheepishly. Almost...longingly, even.

“ Yeah...it has. “

He clicks his tongue.

“ Who, uh...who was that song about? The curiosity’s been eating at me. “

A heat rises to my cheeks. A pause.

“ I—It—Ugh, fuck it. “

I’ve never been the best at talking directly to Oikawa, not since I realized that what I felt for him extended to something past the bounds of friendship. So I decided to do the only thing I knew to do in that moment—show him instead.

My lips crash against his as he slams the door behind him. The palpable tension between us is shattered immediately, and everything is faded out into insignificance. All that matters is the man in my arms, the man I’d been longing so desperately, so hopelessly for all this fucking time. I kiss him against the smoothness of the door, hands immediately trailing to his soft locks. I twirl and twine them as I see flashes, bright hues of heaven itself. His lips upon mine are the most perfect fit. His touch is painfully intoxicating, and I show him, wordlessly, with an unparalleled fervour—just who the song was about. He melts into it, matching my energy with a foreign sense of passion.

—

OIKAWA

“ Do you think...the universe is gonna try to separate us again? “ I ask softly, voice barely even a whisper. Tears wet my lashes at the very thought of being without him again. For those five years, though I was living my dream...it didn’t feel complete. Not without him. I blink them away aggressively, focusing on the night sky above us. My head is resting in his lap, and we’re simply...existing together beneath the curtain of darkened pools which hung above our twined bodies.

Iwa strokes my hair nonchalantly as he interlocks his fingers with mine. “ Of course. It always will. But we found each other didn’t we? And even after...even after this life has passed and we’re reduced to nothing but ash, I’m convinced we’ll meet again. One way or another. “

He tucks a straying tuft of hair from brushing my lashes.

“ Even then...even then you’ll still be my favourite form of lovely. Or whatever. “ He scoffs at his own over-poetic response, looking away with a tiny smirk.

“ Okay, Mr. Songwriter! “ I tease, nudging his side in a playful manner.

He rolls his eyes, bending down to kiss me once more.

For the first time in a long time, I feel complete. I’m on cloud 9.