#maybe your parents make a choice for you in who you should date and you just - go along with it

[poppy-metal]

do you know how hard it would be to be patricks enemy - its easy to piss him off, he runs hot, his fuse is short - but he lets shit go, just as quick. you'd have to really break his heart, be someone so fucking fake you make his skin itch just to be around you, so against being honest he wonders if you're even real or if you're just a puppet.

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[ham1lton]

omg i had a similar idea about how yn’s birthday would be what exposed lewisyn but i didn’t send it bc i didn’t think you’d like it 🫣🫣🫣 i was just thinking that he’d get her something REALLY nice and everyone’s like 🤨🤔 whose boss would get them this….(as a kpop girlie my headcanon was that he flies her to coachella to see blackpink vip LMAO but honestly your choice)

author’s note: LEWISYN LEWISYN *we all chant in unison*. this is a part of the dream girl universe but can be read as a stand alone! also i’m posting the oscaryn fic tomorrow! so keep an eye out for that :D

liked by bestie1, alexandrasaintmleux and 728,928 others.

yourusername: when your boss pays for an all inclusive holiday for you and your girls for your birthday, but you miss his dog so you force him to send you updates every day 😔

view all 47,982 comments

user1: happy bday girl but this isn’t normal 😭

-> user2: bye she’s so real for this because if i could get exclusive lewis hamilton selfies I WOULD 😭

user3: you posted a darry ring box on your story? who bought it for you?

-> yourusername: lewis! :)

-> user4: hey babe… that’s literally INSANE

-> user5: idgi? what’s a darry ring? why is it insane? it’s just jewellery 🤷���‍♀️

-> user4: you can only buy ONE darry ring per LIFETIME. they make you submit your id so you can never buy another. it’s meant to be for your soulmate 😭 and lewis bought one for his ASSISTANT 😭

-> user5: nah, they GOTTA be fucking.

-> user4: worse. they’re in love.

carmenmmundt: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEET GIRL ♥️

-> yourusername: i can’t even believe it but thank you babe!!! mwah!! we’ll go out as soon as i come back!!! :D

-> user6: my fav wags :(( gonna miss yn when lewis goes to ferrari :((

bestie1: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BESTIE!!! SEXIEST GIRL EVER!!!!!!11!!!111

*liked by yourusername.*

user19: people talking about the darry ring like what about the HOLIDAY TO HER FAVOURITE PLACE??? like that is literally CRAZY???

-> user19: … you hiring? lewishamilton 👀

-> user21: fuck that, do you have an opening in your relationship? lewishamilton yourusername? 👀 bitch scooch over!! i want y’all 🤷🏻‍♀️

user20: what f1 driver wants to have a weird codependent relationship with a romantic subtext with me?

-> user21: i didn’t realise how much of a wattpad ass trope lewisyn is 😭 rich older famous hot boss and younger funny pretty employee who does whatever she wants while the boss is just fondly endeared.

-> user22: THAT SHOULD BE ME!!!!! 😔

-> user20: we can still do it oscarpiastri

-> oscarpiastri: no thank you! 🙂‍↔️

user28: yourusername are you and lewis dating be honest?

-> yourusername: NO 😭 i am definitely still single. lewis and i are just close friends that’s it!

-> user29: he said ‘happy birthday to my favourite girl, i want to spend all the rest of them with you’ in his post to you…. THATS A BOYFRIEND ASS QUOTE DONT LIE 😭

-> yourusername: that’s really normal??? like i’m sorry that you don’t have a decent relationship with your boss? 😭

user10: this whole bday thing is so funny cause why is yn trying to pass this as a normal employee and employer relationship 😭

-> user11: like you don’t see charles taking his assistant on romantic candlelit dinners do you 😭

-> user12: maybe if he does that, he’ll win a wdc. lewis does it, and he won eight, to ME!

user26: her insta stories are packed with all the gifts he bought her omg. someone tallied it all up and why did it amount to 2.7 million?!????

-> user27: IM SO JEALOUS

alexandrasaintmleux: next time brunch is on me ! 🥰 happy birthday honey 💕

-> yourusername: ily alex :(

-> user7: 1644 got the baddest bitches i know that’s right!

user13: lewisyn be normal challenge: FAILED!

-> user14: lewisyn be hopelessly in love with each other and co-parent lewis’ dog together challenge: COMPLETE!

user15: everyone talking about how weird it is that lewis spoils yn for her bday but why can’t we NORMALISE this?????? i want MY lazy ass boss to see shit like this and feel so ashamed that he books me on a cruise or some shit 😭

user17: LEWISYN CONFIRMED !!! WE CHEERED !!

-> user18: did you see his birthday post to her? babe it’s BEEN confirmed 😭

user24: im new to this. is yn lewis’ wag?

-> user25: no! she’s his assistant.

-> user24: don’t believe it. sorry.

user16: to everyone thinking this is weird, lewis’ team are like family to him. yn has been with him for almost a decade. like ofc he’s gonna reward loyalty? especially when she’s gotten offers from other celebs and brands. she could have pivoted to being an influencer but she likes working for lewis and it’s clearly mutual?

*liked by yourusername.*

landonorris: did you get my flowers?

-> yourusername: no?? :(

-> lewishamilton: roscoe ate them. my bad.

-> user8: MESSY ASS 😭 that dog did not eat those damn flowers.

-> user9: roscoe at home rn like … what he say fuck me for 🐶

-> yourusername: dw lando!! we’ll still have our weekly movie night when i come back!!

-> landonorris: :D

— dream girl taglist: @flowergirl1134 @laur20a23 @greantii @rafebun @sumlovesjude @papayadays

— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryyy @aliciaablueprint @lennnooshh @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @theblueblub @lavisenri @marshmummy @23victoria @ourlifeforchaos @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @tsireyasgf @landososcar @yongi-lee @maxlarens @velentine @m1892 (if you were on more than one of the taglists, i’ve only tagged you once! :) also if you’re on the solo lewis taglist, i’ll tag you in the mentions as tumblr limits mentions at 50 per post!! :( and if you’d like to join either taglist, fill out this form! make sure you read the explanatory box, fill the form out correctly and allow your account to be tagged or i can’t tag you!)

[cheemscakecat]

Fun/Interesting details in Expiration Date

Heavy knows that Pauling is calling them, and lets Scout be the one to answer. Also, road safety because he’s not distracted driving.

Medic is so hyped about tumor bread.

Hoovy smelling the sandwich and deciding it’s safe to eat [or that it doesn’t matter at this point].

Pyro standing like that. He don’t know what’s going on, but he’ll still be polite. Also, Sniper just chillin in the back with a poker face the whole time.

Medic smiles at Soldier as they walk past. Engineer’s got that Conhager death-cheating focus at the moment.

Spy’s eyes widen angrily when he realizes it’s Scout at the door and then he smirks like; “Oh hi! Twelve hours was enough time for you to get bored of my absence, then?”, not expecting a sincere apology [maybe one orchestrated by the other teammates, but not Scout].

There was some vitriol behind that “***”, look at his nose. He does not want Scout to gloat, try to prank him again, or give a fake apology. And that’s valid, since the team dying is something Scout should have taken seriously, and the last wishes handled with respect. He crossed a line that Spy doesn’t take lightly.

Dad, I threwed up. But in all seriousness, that’s the “My family is dysfunctional, and I don’t know how to be emotionally honest with people” posture.

See my bucket scene analysis for more on these two.

He didn’t say “You’re terrible with girls” in a snide or smug tone, he said it with like actual parental concern. “Scout, no you have three days! Do you want to die rejected or die before you can enjoy being together? No. Don’t do this to yourself.”

Look at that cup, he did not need a refill. This fake smirk and disinterest is Spy’s way of checking how serious Scout is about this last wish and taking his advice. And when he goes “This never leaves this room” Spy perks up.

Medic was taking a sample of bread tumor puss [or injecting it with something].

They have a whole entire wrestling ring, how did I never notice that?

This is one of those multiple choice questions where you can choose more than one answer and have it be right. But the chicken in combination with the other options looses you points, and just taking the chicken is like the token wrong answer.

Spy sighs when he realizes Scout chose just the chicken. Like chile, I gave you multiple options and you still went with your go-to that doesn’t work!

This room has a gym floor, which implies Spy took a bunch of fancy stuff from one of his rooms just for this date training. Also shoutout to the other teammates for helping with this.

Okay, so most of these decorations came from Pyro, who Scout is terrified of. Archimedes came from Medic, who Scout also doesn’t want to make angry, and the grass cutouts are potentially part of the base camouflage. But that disco ball? That belongs to Scout, he just doesn't want anyone to know he’s real into that. [The team would not judge, but his brothers would, so.]

Man when he gets his heart broken, I hope he finds the right girl for him. He deserves better than Pauling always making excuses to turn him down instead of telling him like it is.

Foreshadowing Solly being romantical towards Zhanna. Look at this content man.

Spy holding his knife like this. There’s no reason for it to be a threat, so he’s just genuinely in the habit of doing this while listening. Or while nervous, which also makes sense.

[princessbrunette]

How did midsummer go with pogue!rafe and kook!reader? Did he fight jj because he tried to talk to her? What was her parents reaction? Did she let him put it in her butt?

˖⁺‧₊˚🧁˚₊‧⁺˖

he was a little bashful to be honest. i mean he’s a huge guy — may i reiterate pogue!rafe specifically stands at a whopping 6’5 so there’s no way for him to effectively just blend in to the corner. he attracts eyes anywhere he goes.

he cleans up nice but he’ll roll his eyes if you say anything, turning up in his rented suit to drive you to the country club where midsummer was taking place. he swings the door open for you, and when you hop out you’re instantly on him— fixing his collar and his tie, any excuse to press yourself up on him, hands roaming.

“quit it alright, not even inside yet and you’re touching all on me” he shrugs you off, walking ahead. he’s agitated and a little more touchy than usual but it makes you smile. your rafey was nervous. he sighs as he walks, knowing you’re picking up on his mood. whatever — he’d do it for the promised anal sex.

he loosens up a tiny bit after a drink is placed in his hand. he’s a little surprised, the man in the suit at the door didn’t look at him funny or like he wasn’t supposed to be there. he even called him sir.

you hang off his arm, swanning around chatting and socialising as he stands in disinterest like a stony-faced accessory. you’re grinning ear to ear after a glass and a half of wine because his hand is on your lower back and sometimes, perhaps without even realising he rubs big warm circles on it. you just wanted him all to yourself.

“damn, who let this dude in?” jj’s jokey voice rings out and rafes all tense again, glaring at the fellow pogue dashing about collecting empty glasses on his tray.

“kind of unprofessional to be harassing guests on the job— alright, matter of fact where’s your boss maybe i uh, maybe i should let them know—” rafe is immediately in his face, tongue in cheek, looking down at the blonde like he was ready to throw hands so of course you’re slotting yourself between and urging him away. you couldn’t have that kind of tomfoolery tonight.

the second wave of tension came when your parents had finally stepped away from their social circles for a moment to revel in the shock of you bringing the handyman as your date. perhaps you didn’t really think it through, maybe they’d put two and two together and they’d certainly stop inviting him round to fix things which was annoying, as it was the few times you actually got to see him.

your father asks you to come on a little ‘walk’ with him, in which you reluctantly leave rafe’s side for a moment — just praying he behaves himself and jj stays out of his way. the thought of you returning to scrambling bodies on the floor and smashed plates and glasses had your body tensing.

the two of you stroll through the grounds, admiring all the fairy lights and dancing tipsy country club members paired with small talk before he finally breaches what he really wants to ask — being “why him, sweetheart? why rafe cameron our handyman? there are plenty of nice, respectable young men who come from a more… well, a background that just reflects you, a little more honey. what do you even have in common with this guy?”

“you don’t understand, dad. i like him, he’s different and the guys round here are weird and — and stuck up! you know i don’t like that dad, i told you!” you feel yourself regress, feeling like a scolded child again as you attempt to put your foot down, pushing through with your complaints even when you see your parent shaking his head in disapproval.

“i am just trying to protect you — rafe is a huge guy, to put it gently i don’t want my little girl getting hurt! you know how pogues are they’re… they’re undignified! what if he hurts you, huh? you wouldn’t be able to fight him off!”

“he’s not going to hurt me and i’m not a little girl. i’m an adult, and i can make my own choices.”

you don’t give him a chance to respond, already storming back down the golf hill the two of you stood on and back towards rafe — looking a little out of place yet somewhat slightly relaxed. his brows jump into a frown, blinking in confusion when he see’s your state — the most wound up he’s ever seen you.

“hey— wh— what happened out there?” he emphasises, and when you don’t respond, just grabbing his arm and dragging him to the bar his mouth turns down, shaking his head with a little shrug at being ignored. “not gonna tell me? alright.” he brushes off, irritated by your lack of communication.

he watches you order another glass of wine, before downing it — the pogue grimacing a little as he watches it trickle down the side of your mouth.

“alright— okay, jesus kid.” he gently bats the glass away and wipes your chin with the back of his wrist, still shaking his head. “can you talk to me?”

“i don’t wanna be with a kook boy. they’re all evil and stuck up and i just don’t like them. i’m a grown up and — and i can make my own decisions and my dad doesn’t have that kind of power over me okay only — only you— you can tell me—” you’re rambling, a little drunk and incoherent as rafe squints at you, bent a little to be able to see you better.

“breathe, alright… m’taking you home. this shit’s not good for you.” the cameron boy wraps an arm around your waist, all but manhandling you in a public- appropriate way toward the exit and piling you into the passenger seat of his car.

the car ride home is quiet aside from a few little sniffles from you, and he doesn’t really know what to say — so he doesn’t say anything. he had a funny way of showing he cares, and is more of an acts of service kinda guy anyway.

you’re still all loose and tipsy when he gets you back to your empty home, still marvelled by how fancy and large it is in comparison to his own. one moment he’s holding a glass of water to your mouth saying “drink.”, wiping you up when it spills down you once more — and then next minute he’s sheepdogging you into your bedroom, glancing around. “now get your little pyjamas or whatever. you’re goin’ t’bed to sleep this off. you’ll be fine.” he drawls, looking round to help you.

upon looking back at you, you’ve already managed to zip off your dress — your mood suddenly a lot more lifted as you bite back your drunken giggles.

“but rafey, i haven’t delivered my promise?” you’re all fluttery lashes and pouts as you touch his chest, the man before you sighing like it was the first time he’d breathed all day. “wan’ed you to put it in my ass all night.” you groan, all high pitched and needy — and fuck does he wanna give in. fuck does he deserve it — should pin you down and take what he wants right now, making you squeal and cry into your sheets, begging for some kind of stimulation in your cunt only to be rewarded with his big hot load in your ass before he tails out of that place before your parents return.

but it wasn’t right. since when did he care about doing what was right?

“nah kid, we’ll revisit that soon alright you’re — you are not in the right state… okay— so just… get into bed. come on.” his voice is a little softer in defeat at his own overwhelming affections and he guides you to the bed, shucking off his blazer and throwing it to the side as he pulls the blankets over you.

“can you stay?” you pout, sleepy as soon as your head hits the pillow.

“…no.” he scratches his cheek, the other large hand resting on your back and rocking you gently like a baby, not sure of how this all works.

you didn’t expect him to say yes, but it still disappoints you. however once your eyes are closed, they don’t open again — and soon you’re waking up in the morning to a hangover and no rafe.

˖⁺‧₊˚🧁˚₊‧⁺˖

[nhlclover]

ALONE | ADAM FANTILLI

summary: after feeling isolated by the lack of support from your own family and friends during your pregnancy, you found a sense of belonging among adam's friends

warnings: pregnancy, technically teen pregnancy, use of made up people who do not exist irl

word count: 1.33k

You had never felt so alone.

When you found out you and Adam were expecting, you were over the moon. It wasn’t in your plans as a couple, but the two of you were more than ready to begin your family. The initial shock quickly turned into joy as you imagined the future together, holding your little one in your arms, and sharing the excitement of each new milestone.

However, when you told those close to you, your friends and family, their reactions were not what you had hoped for. Your parents had been disappointed, worried about what those in the community would think about them now that their daughter was a teenage mom. Their choice of words left you feeling like a failure. Your mother’s disapproving gaze and your father’s silence were more hurtful than any words could be. They seemed more concerned about their reputation than the new life you were bringing into the world.

When you turned to your friends, hoping that their reactions would be supportive and at least slightly better than those of your parents, you were left hurt and alone. They either distanced themselves or openly criticized your decision to keep the baby. The whispers behind your back, the judgmental glances, and the sudden exclusion from social gatherings cut deeper than you could have imagined. It felt like you were being punished for your happiness.

It seemed like everyone had an opinion, and none of them were supportive. The isolation was overwhelming, and each day felt heavier than the last. The weight of their disappointment and judgment bore down on you, making the already challenging journey of pregnancy feel even more daunting.

Now, at seven months pregnant, you had been navigating the rocky path of motherhood almost completely alone. Adam had been a rock throughout the entire thing, his unwavering love and support providing you with some solace in the storm of criticism. He held you through the nights of tears and doubt, whispering reassurances that you were strong. His family, although from a distance, were also supportive, sending messages of encouragement and little gifts for the baby.

However, even their unwavering support felt like it wasn’t enough. The absence of your own family’s acceptance left a void that was impossible to fill. You longed for your mother’s comforting words, your father’s steady presence, and the camaraderie of your friends. Instead, you faced a future that seemed more uncertain and isolated than you had ever imagined.

The journey of impending motherhood, which should have been filled with joy and anticipation, was overshadowed by the loneliness that engulfed you. Each day was a struggle to stay positive and to believe that you could be the mother your child deserved. As the due date approached, the fear of the unknown mixed with the pain of rejection, making you wonder if you could ever truly overcome the loneliness that had become your constant companion.

So when Adam suggested you go to brunch with his friends, your anxiety skyrocketed. You didn’t know these people well, and the thought of facing more judgment was almost too much to bear. Yet, Adam had assured you they were kind, understanding people, so you trusted him.

As you arrived at the quaint restaurant, your heart pounded in your chest. This morning had been a better one in terms of morning sickness and pain, which gave you a sense of ease that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, but still, your anxiety loomed.

Adam gave your hand a quick squeeze as you approached the table, most of his friends already seated. You were greeted by a melodic chorus of friendly voices and warm smiles. Adam’s friends and their partners welcomed them eagerly, pulling out chairs and making space for them at the crowded table.

“Y/n, right?” the girl next to you asked.

“Yes, hi,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly as you took a seat.

“Adam’s told me so much about you, it’s so nice to finally put a face to a name!” she said sweetly. “I’m Lilly.”

Her warmth and genuine smile were a stark contrast to the reactions you had grown accustomed to. You felt a small spark of hope flicker within you, and you mustered a polite smile in return. "It's nice to meet you, Lilly."

As the conversation flowed around you, you found yourself slowly relaxing. The group was vibrant and welcoming, chatting animatedly about their lives, sharing jokes, and asking you questions that made you feel included rather than judged. Lilly in particular seemed to take you under her wing, engaging you in conversation and making sure you felt comfortable.

"So, how are you feeling?" Lilly asked gently, her eyes filled with genuine concern. "I know it must be tough sometimes."

You hesitated, unused to such kindness, but her sincerity made it easier to open up. "It's been challenging," you admitted, feeling a lump in your throat. You glanced at Adam, who gave you an encouraging nod. He’d kept an eye on you the entire evening, making sure you were staying comfortable and making sure you didn’t want to leave. He’d truly been amazing through everything. "But Adam has been wonderful, and I'm trying to stay positive."

“When are you due?” Tyler asked.

“Early August,” you replied, your voice steadier now.

“That's so exciting! Have you thought about names yet?” Sarah asked, her enthusiasm contagious.

You and Adam exchanged a glance, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a genuine smile spread across your face. “We have a few ideas, but nothing set in stone yet.”

The weight on your shoulders seemed to lighten, as you felt that there was a developing support system that you hadn’t expected. As the brunch continued, the questions kept coming, but they were all filled with kindness and genuine interest. They asked about your cravings, your experience with morning sickness, and even shared funny stories from their own lives. You felt yourself relaxing, your earlier fears melting away.

“We're all here for you, you know," Lilly said at one point, her eyes sincere. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. We’d love to help now and after the baby arrives.”

You didn’t know if it was the overwhelming gratitude you were experiencing, or simply pregnancy hormones, but you found yourself getting emotional, tears brimming in your eyes. “Thank you. That means more than you know.”

Lilly gave you a sweet smile, reaching over and giving your hand that rested on the table a supportive squeeze. The meals came and went, stories were told, and Adam kindly paid for the tab. After you said your goodbyes and well-wishes, you walked to the car with Adam's arm around your shoulders.

“So…” Adam said hesitantly. “How was that?”

You let out a deep breath, a smile appearing on your lips. “They were amazing, Adam,” you said. “They’re so nice.”

You felt the pregnancy hormones coming back again, the tears now spilling over. Your emotions had been on a rollercoaster, with the highs and lows often blending into a confusing blur. After being abandoned by your friends and family, feeling like you were practically alone in this journey, the isolation weighed heavily on you. Each day had been a struggle, each moment a reminder of the support you lacked. The once-familiar faces that should have been by your side had turned away, leaving you to navigate this overwhelming experience in solitude.

But now, a shift was happening. You now finally felt like there were people on your side, people you could lean on and fill the void that had been left by those who had abandoned you.

Over the next few weeks, you began to see more of Adam’s friends. They checked in on you, invited you to small gatherings, and even helped you prepare for the baby. Lilly became a close friend, always there with a listening ear and helpful advice. Slowly but surely, the loneliness that had once seemed insurmountable began to ebb away.

[medusapelagia]

Love at first sight

written for @corrodedcoffinfest (Prompt 6: HEARD IT IN A LOVE SONG) and @steddie-week (Day 6, Prompt: Dizzy / drunken confessions) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: none Words: 997

The music pumps in his ears and Steve might have drunk a little bit too much. Not enough to run to the bathroom but enough that he feels dizzy and happy for no reason, so he slams his glass on the bar counter and moves toward the dance floor.

The people are dancing around him like a human tide and all he wants is to go adrift. Someone grinds against his ass but he doesn’t even turn. Steve needs this, a little bit of human contact, the feeling that he’s wanted even if his parents just sent him their last check with a letter saying that from now on he’s on his own.

He should have told Robin, but she was on a date with the pretty barista she had a crush on since forever so he just crumpled the letter and threw it in his drawer, took his keys, and got to his favorite gay bar and started to drink the last money his parents gave him. No better way to spend it after all.

Someone bumps into him too hard and Steve loses his equilibrium. Trying not to fall on the ground he grabs the first thing he can, which apparently it’s a leather jacket.

Fuck.

Leather jackets mean bikers or metal heads, usually closeted ones that will get really angry.

“I’m sorry…” he slurs, “I tripped and…” Steve starts to apologize, but the man that’s looking at him is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. Long curly dark hair, deep dark eyes, and a mischievous smile painted on his face.

“You ok, sweetheart?” He tells him, holding Steve up, “Too many drinks, huh? It happens to the best of us.”

The man chuckles, making sure Steve is stable enough on his feet before turning toward his group of friends, but Steve’s hand is still holding tight on his leather jacket.

“If you could let go of me we could go back to our friends, sweetness,” the man smiles, prying Steve’s hand open.

“No.”

“No? Don’t you want to have fun with your friends?”

“No friends.” Steve tries to explain, and the man frowns.

“You here alone?”

Steve nods, but the sudden movement makes him feel dizzy again. Luckily the other man grabs his arm and stabilizes him once more.

“Sorry… my head is spinning.” Steve apologized, hiding his face behind his free hand.

“Why don’t we sit for a moment, huh?”

“Eddie, come on! This round is on you!” Someone yells next to them, and Steve notices at that moment that he’s not in the middle of the dance floor anymore, but close to the bar counter.

The man grabs his wallet from his back pocket, one hand still holding Steve’s arm tight, “Need to get back to the table. Take what you need.”

“But how can I bring all the beers back?”

“I’ll ask Jeff to help you, don’t whine!”

Steve looks at the dark-haired man and asks, “Eddie?”

“Yeah. That’s me. What’s your name, sugar?”

“Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. Why don’t you sit with me and my friends for a moment?” he proposes, dragging him toward the bar's private area, “We’re celebrating. We just signed our first contract with a musica label.” Eddie winks, “What about you? Something to celebrate?”

“My parents officially disowned me. And I’m drinking the last money they sent me.”

Eddie hums with a sad smile, “I know a thing or two about shitty parents. But maybe getting drunk in a bar alone isn’t the best choice to deal with things like that. People could take advantage of your state.”

“Are you going to take advantage of me?” Steve asks innocently, “I would let you if you wanted to.”

Eddie snorts, “Thank you for the offer but I’m the kind of guy who prefers full consent to drunk consent. Hey guys! This is Steve! He’s having a bit of a hard day so he’s staying with us until he feels a little bit better and we can send him home safely.”

“Hi Steve, I’m Jeff. Would you like a glass of water?”

“That’s a great idea. Why don’t you get one for him while helping Gareth with the beers? I gave him my wallet.”

“You gave your wallet to Gar?” another man asks, ginning, “He’s going to spend all your money. I bet twenty dollars he will come back with the most expensive bottle he can find.”

“Not my problem, Freak. You know I don’t really care about money.” Eddie shrugs, sitting next to the tall boy who keeps grinning.

“So you found another stray, Eddie?” Freak asks, scooting over to let them sit.

“I can't tell one from another. Did I find you or you find me?” Eddie replies, turning toward Steve who stares at him in confusion, “It’s a line I heard in a love song, always wanted to use it, never got the occasion. Till now.”

“Maybe wait for him to be sober before hitting on him, huh? Don’t worry. Eddie is dramatic like that, but he’s a good guy.”

“I think I love him,” Steve whispers to Freak way too loudly, and the big man chuckles.

“Look at you, Eddie! You just signed your first contract and already found yourself a groupie!”

Eddie reaches out for the glass of water that Jeff is holding and gives it to Steve, “Drink it all like a good boy.”

“I do.” Steve insists, taking Eddie’s hand and putting it over his chest, “Can’t you feel my love for you? It’s like you said. We were meant to find each other.” 

If Steve wasn’t drunk he would feel ashamed of himself, but what he said it’s true. He never believed in love at first sight, but now he would swear by it.

“Ok. Ok. Now drink your water and if tomorrow morning you’ll feel still in love with me,” Eddie says, fishing a chewed pen and writing a number on a napkin “call me.” 

Now with a second part

[urinarythreatinfection]

Hi, I really like your work with Sanji! Can I request a fanfic where the reader is a person who didn't get love from his parents as a child, but only money? The reader is a woman, if anything! How the reader will try to show her love to Sanji is your choice! Thanks in advance!

This was a bit hard at first but I ended up getting into it eventually. It might've turned out a little more angsty than I thought but I felt like it worked really well. If you aren't at 1053 i'm really sorry I put it in there bc it worked really well too.

Insecure Love

Sanji x Fem Reader. Angst/comfort and some fluff. Major Spoilers for episode 1053. 2740 words.

Sanji adores you, you’re perfect to him. Beautiful, amazing, talented, everything. You are the best woman he could ever wish for. Sometimes he even lays awake at night thinking of the memories the two of you have made, goofy smile on his face he’s so enamored. There is one problem though, just a teensy one, you’re not at all affectionate. You don’t stop him from being affectionate to you, but you don’t exactly reciprocate or initiate. Instead, you give him gifts, which was nice at first but he started to feel a bit conflicted about it the more it happened. He would rather get love from you rather than a material good you’d bought somewhere. What’s worse is that the gifts have stopped, it’s almost always just money now.

“Here.” You say blankly to Sanji while he’s cooking, handing him cash. He spots you and his eyes trail to the berri in your hand, a small frown on his face. “Is it not enough?” He jolts and quickly shakes his head.

“No, that isn’t it. Thank you.” He forces a smile and takes it, pain in his chest. Your boyfriend tries so hard to make you feel loved, cooking for you, complimenting you, showing physical affection, but all you do is hand him cash like payment for a service; like his love was simply something nice you pay him for. He’s tried refusing it before but you had gotten upset, putting it away with a sad expression until he agreed to take it. Now you look at him as he pockets it, telling himself he’ll use it to buy ingredients for a dish you’ll like. After he puts it in his pocket he hugs you, kissing you for a bit before pulling away. “I’m going to finish cooking soon, my love, would you like to stay here?” His eyes are expectant, hoping you’ll stay, but you shake your head.

“I’ll leave you to it, you should focus.” With that, you leave him alone in the kitchen. He looks at the ingredients he was chopping, the money you gave him weighing down his heart. Is this really so one-sided? Has he just been bothering you this entire time? Maybe he’s just a toy you can play with, a music box that sings for you when you put money inside. Those thoughts crowd his head as he cooks until he accidentally lifts a hot lid with his bare hand, burning his skin; but before he can go to treat it... it heals on its own. The cook grits his teeth, clenching his fist. What a creepy ability. He puts his head in his hands and takes deep breaths, it’s okay, he loves you, you’re still together.

“Are you alright?” Robin asks him as he sets food down in front of the girls, including you, completely spaced out.

“Oh, sorry Robin-chan.” He snaps out of it and smiles at her. “I’m doing okay.” The cook leaves to serve the rest of the crew, steps noticeably heavier than normal. The women watch this, then look to you.

“Did you two argue or something? What’d he do?” Nami asks, ready to defend you, but you shake your head.

“I don’t know, I thought he was okay earlier, I handed him money and he accepted like normal.” You’re confused, and they both look at eachother.

“Like normal..?” Nami asks again.

“Yeah, I’ve been giving my allowance to him since we started dating. I know he sometimes struggles with food budget so I like helping out.” You explain and the two girls stare at you.

“(Y/n) what have you been doing so far in your relationship with Sanji?” Robin questions you and you start to talk, explaining that you’ve been getting him gifts since you both started dating; but you ran out of ideas on what to give him so you’ve started to give him money when he makes you happy.

“Wow…That’s horrible.” The navigator states, starting to pity Sanji.

“Like a sugar baby?” Your jaw drops slightly at Robin’s comparison and you quickly shake your head.

“A sugar baby!?” You’re shocked but start to think about it. “Wait, is that what he wants?”

“Obviously not!” The navigator snaps at your obliviousness. “He basically collapses the moment a woman does something for him but you’ve just been giving him money?”

“Wouldn’t you like that though?” You point out and she frowns.

“That’s different.” She considers money an okay gift for her, though even she would get annoyed if she had a lover that would only give her money and ignore anything else. “Plus you hardly show him affection, I thought it was just your guys’ thing so I didn’t say anything but you’re clearly bumming him out.”

“I haven’t refused anything from him though, and I don’t get mad at him for flirting with other women.” The navigator sighs, mentally facepalming, this isn’t working out. You’re too oblivious and Sanji’s too much of an idiot to tell anyone something’s wrong, much less a woman he loves. Robin comes up with something.

“Tomorrow you should come to our room at noon. We’ll assist you” You tilt your head, confused, but agree.

That night, Sanji heads to bed still sad and only getting worse. He can’t sleep, he’s been having trouble doing so since that happened. ‘She was there, she must’ve seen.’ An unnatural thing, becoming the same type of monster he always despised. You must’ve fallen out of love with him, that’s it. He can’t blame you, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t digging a hole into his chest. He curls up into a ball on his bed, grasping at the sheets next to him like you’ll be there.

_________________

The next morning goes as it usually does on the Sunny. Sanji wakes up early to make breakfast for everyone and when they wake up it’s time to eat. The difference now is that Sanji seems off, tired, he doesn’t yell at Luffy or Zoro and his happy comments towards Robin and Nami aren’t enthusiastic. When he sets down your plate in front of you you look up at him, trying to scan his face if he’s sick. He awakened late so it would make sense if his Germa genes weren’t as strong, maybe he’s gotten sick? You’re worried and so is everyone else, except Luffy who doesn’t notice until after eating. He almost says something but is promptly elbowed so he keeps shut. He means well but mentioning it right now will make things worse, plus, the girls have a plan.

Afternoon finally strikes and you walk into the shared girls room, they aren’t there. 'Maybe I came too early?’ You think to yourself, checking the time to make sure it’s noon. Suddenly you hear footsteps and the door opens, revealing Robin, Nami, and your boyfriend. They push him inside and he spots you, looking shocked; but before he could ask what’s going on the door closes. He tries the doorknob but it’s locked, switched so the lock is on the outside.

“Don’t even try unlocking the door or breaking it down. You aren’t allowed out until you two communicate.” Nami states and footsteps are heard fading away. You stare at Sanji’s back, his hands on the wooden door. Does he not want to be with you alone with you this much? Usually he’d be excited to have time to spend with you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him and the cook turns quickly, not prepared for this. He isn’t ready yet! He still needs to prepare his heart for the breakup and practice his apologies for you falling out of love. “Sanji..” You reach a hand out to him and he flinches, pressing his back against the wall like he’s afraid of you. He’s scared to be touched by you, scared that when you feel his skin you’ll retract from fear and disgust from the steel-like flesh. It isn’t right, these misunderstandings cause pain and you bite your bottom lip. What are you doing wrong, what did Nami mean by saying what you were doing was horrible? You step away from him and turn around, the both of you too insecure to speak. Fortunately, being trapped in this room will force you to.

‘She can’t even bear to look at me.’ Negativity clouds his judgment, irrational thoughts filling his mind. “I’m sorry.” An apology, it sounds guilty. This must be a sign.

‘He’s breaking up with me…’ There’s too much stress, him avoiding you, being told something is wrong, and now this breakup. The dam of stone formed by the years of trauma starts to crack, tears dripping from your eyes. Sanji doesn’t see it, but he can hear your shaky breaths. It causes his eyes to widen and his worry for you overpowers his instinct to pull away.

“Mon cœur!?” Your lover walks to you and scans your teary face, his hands cupping your cheeks.

“You don’t have to call me that,” His heart breaks, you’re breaking up with him so he would have to stop calling you that. Your next words confuse him, though. “I know you don’t want to.” …He doesn’t want to? Sanji blinks a few times, why would he ever not want to call his everything what she is?

“What are you talking about? I-”

“Stop forcing yourself!” You yell and he jolts. “It must’ve been hard. Your love for women made you stay with me for so long but I know you don’t love me. Being hesitant about my gifts, not talking to me as much, and you're starting to look tired too.” You step back and put your face in your hands. “You must be staying up late thinking about how you could break up with me.” He stands there, shocked. Him… breaking up with you? The perfect woman completely out of his league? Tears flow from your eyes faster and he tries to make sense of it all, his brain so focused on his own faults that the thought of you being insecure of yours is unable to cross his mind.

“Do you mean the berri you’ve been giving me?” He manages to put together and you nod. He continues to think. “You… it wasn’t payment to you?” He doesn’t know what else to call it so he settles with that word.

“Payment?” You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “Is that why you’ve been staying with m-”

“No, nonono of course not. I thought..” Sanji quickly interrupts you, stopping that thought. This is different from what he thought was going to happen, but it still hurts to speak his mind when it only reminds him of what’s wrong, well what he thinks is wrong. “I thought you were giving me those things as payment because you didn’t want to pay attention to me. So I wouldn’t bother you, that my love was just a transaction.” He says the last part more quietly and your heart drops. This is familiar, you’ve felt this exact way before when you were young. Going to your parents for love and only getting money in return to shut you up and get you away. You start to shake and cry harder.

“I-I, I didn’t know. I’m sorry..!” You’re just like them, but Sanji doesn’t care; hugging you.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” He’s already forgiving you and you haven’t even explained anything.

“No, it’s n-not okay.” You say while shaking your head, it’s nerve-wracking to talk about your past but you choose to. For him. “I… I thought I was doing the right thing. That I was different from my parents who would give me things instead of love, I always made sure t-to never tell you to go away or reject you but I ended up making you feel the exact same way I did!” You pull away and cover your face. “I’m horrible!”

‘The same way she did?’ He processes what you said, what’s happening. The struggle of trying so hard to be different from family only to end up like them is something he knows as well. His hand goes to his chest, pressing down and feeling almost completely dense skin instead of the regular squish of flesh; just like his brothers. “You don’t think I’m a monster…” You quickly shake your head. “Why didn’t you say so? Are you sure- I mean you never wanted to be with me!” Whenever he was cooking or if he went shopping you would just give him money and wave him off.

“I..” You think about that, then start to get embarrassed. “I didn’t want to bother you, what if I get overly clingy and get you mad?” Sanji hears this and it’s like weight has been dropped from his heart, but hearing you say this so insecurely still makes him slowly sink to the ground. “Sanji?”

“Bother me.. being clingy.” Gods, he would do anything to have you cling to him when he’s cooking or shopping. “You could never, ever, not in an eternity, ever bother me by being ‘clingy’”

“But don’t you get busy? You work so hard cooking and when you’re out shopping you’re talking with women, wouldn’t I make it awkward if I butted in?” He hangs his head in shame, the few times that you’ve agreed to go shopping he has flirted with other women; but he had assumed you didn’t care. In a way, he would do it on purpose hoping to get a reaction, even looking back at you. Anything to show a sign you loved him, that he wasn’t a toy, but all he was doing was making things worse. This lack of communication was only causing pain to you both. How could he ever make this up to you? He was already unworthy and now he had dared to cause such suffering to the love of his life. “Baby…” You crouch down and cup his face so he’s looking at you, his eyes are teary.

“I hurt you.”

“We ended up hurting each other.” You wipe his tears with your thumbs. “Do you still want to be with me? Even if I've been messing up?”

“I should be the one asking you that, treasure. My love.” Sanji hugs you, pulling you close to him so you’re on his lap. You can feel his hesitance, the fear that you’ll pull away because he’s different now, but you don’t. Instead you press closer to him, lifting your head up to look at him. You don’t really initiate kisses, so you’re nervous as you place your lips on his. He’s only shocked for a moment before he kisses back, resting his hand on the back of your neck. This is the longest series of kisses you’ve had, almost a minute before you have to pull away. “S-Sorry, I’ve gotten better at holding my breath lately.” A bit awkward it’s from something he dislikes, though.

“So I don’t have to worry if I kiss you alot?” You ask and his pupils basically turn to hearts.

“No, you don’t.” Before you two can kiss again there’s the sound of the door unlocking, making you quickly get off of Sanji’s lap as he stands up so Robin and Nami don’t see you in an awkward position. They almost think that nothing has happened but seeing the two of you clearly panicked changes their mind, making Robin smile.

“It went well, then?” Robin chuckles happily as the two of you flush. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

_______________

Sanji hums as he cooks, a good mood from making up with you so amazingly. His ears perk up when he hears you come inside, not needing to look to know it’s you. “I’m almost done, my love.” He states as he expertly flips a steak. You don’t say anything, which confuses him but before he can turn around he feels your arms wrap around him and your body press against his back. His girlfriend, who hasn’t shown real affection until yesterday, is clinging to him while he cooks. Is this a dream?

“Don’t turn around, I’m still a little shy.” You say quietly and it echoes in his mind. Shy… shy… Gods, you’re too cute. His face goes red and he falls to the side, blood seeping from his nose. “Sanji!?” You manage to stop him from slamming fully onto the ground, shaking him. He’s in heaven, this is heaven.

[citrustan]

slipping through my fingers [2] (myg)

title: and the hits just keep coming 1.0

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut

summary: you lean on your friend for support and an escape, but the reality of your situation keeps flashing before you.

warnings: [there's a prologue and part 1 that should be read before this one!] just some insecurity, some sad vibes, you know the drill.

Taehyung fails to dodge the fifth pillow you launch at him. "Let me explain!" Repeatedly begging you to stop, he crashes into your kitchen counter.

A pillow to his leg.

"Wait! Please!" He's dodging for his life.

Another pillow to his chest.

"You're an angel! Pleas-" Headshot!

"Ough! Not the face..." He pauses to soothe his aching nose.

By now, you're out of energy too. But, there's still a lot of anger in your stomach. You're too guilty and too tired to let it out on the wrong person.

You spent over twenty minutes reprimanding him for hiding Yoongi's fiancée from you.

Finally having a fraction of a minute of peace, your friend sits you down by your dinner table.

He disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to cradle and console your heart by yourself.

You hear a few utensils clashing and see him juggling four things in his hands; your cat mug, his designated frog mug, a bottle of white chocolate liqueur and a carton of what looks like chocolate milk.

Pointing your finger at the tetra pak, you protest, "Excuse you, that's the expensive chocolate milk and it’s for Nao."

He looks at the half-empty carton in his hand and back at you.

"You're telling me Nao drank more than half of this bottle in a day? And you let her?" Taehyung deadpanned.

...

"Yeah." Your eyes wander as you insist poorly.

He ignored you and poured you a glass of the milk.

Sitting across from you, he grew solemn, "_____, I swear I didn't know it was like this." - "But you knew about her?" You asked before he said anything else.

Taehyung couldn't deny it, "Yeah. But I thought she would just be like the others."

Yoongi had others.

All grumpy, you sigh. "The others?"

Momentarily, he froze and exhaled. "Yeah, there have been a few. He was... I don't know. He kept saying he was serious about each of them but nobody ever... stuck around? So, we thought he was lying or something." Taehyung regretted his choice of words.

You want to believe him, but you both know that Yoongi isn’t someone who lies like that. Let alone big lies, Yoongi won't even tell little white lies.

Over the years, you naturally assumed he was dating around, but you didn't know. Nothing was confirmed. You never asked and he never told you anything himself.

"Who all knew?"

"Everyone. But nobody even imagined that they'd be getting hitched." He shook his head in disbelief.

“Obviously. This is Yoongi you’re talking about,” you pause, “But didn’t you notice anything different with them?”

“I’m telling you, _____, we had no idea.” Taehyung cringes after taking a sip of the sweet liqueur. “I think he wanted to tell you first.”

You wish he never had.

"What are you thinking?"

You dip your head in between your palms, “I feel terrible. It’s like I know I want to cry but I’m so emotionally stunted right now, I cannot get it out. It’s like a stuck yawn.”

Taehyung caresses your arm, "Can I do anything to help?"

You shake your head, "I don't think so, Tae."

"Oh! Do you want to watch 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas?' Maybe that will help you cry." He tilts his head, eyes filled with hope.

At that, you let out a surprised laugh, "Taehyung, no!"

Basking in the little moment of success (by making you laugh), Taehyung internally pops confetti.

But, the moment was just that. A moment. Your happiness faded away as quickly as it came.

So, he pulled his phone out and placed it in front of you.

Taehyung’s hesitant to ask you this but he does it anyway. “Do you want to see her?”

You don’t know. (You’d rather pretend she doesn’t exist.)

If it weren’t for Nao, you’d have no problem ignoring Yoongi’s girlfriend. Even thinking of the words ‘Yoongi’s girlfriend’ makes you want to end it all.

It’s no secret that you’re still madly in love with your ex-boyfriend.

This situation felt so ridiculous to you, you couldn’t digest it. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening to you.

As a young girl, you never thought it was in the books for you to go through this kind of pain. And, you don’t have a whole lot to lean on. So, Yoongi has always been it for you. He always told you he’d be there for you no matter what.

Even after your breakup, he was by your side.

When you unexpectedly caught the chicken pox from Nao, he took care of you. Even when Taehyung insisted on helping you instead, Yoongi sent him away.

You shared every birthday with him. He’d throw you a small party. Every year, it was a different theme. This year was ‘enchanted garden.’ He always ordered you a custom cake from out of town. It made everything special.

He even helped you open your quaint little bakery. Yoongi was the one who helped you finalize your menu. He tasted everything and even got himself sick because of it.

He stood by you when you got sued by your competition, another old-timey cake shop, for stealing their clients and recipes. He acted as your lawyer free of charge.

Now, you wonder if it was all out of convenience or… an obligation. Had you read it all wrong? Was he simply being polite because you’re the mother of his daughter? Would he stop doing things for you now? Did he ever do those things for you? Or were they simply for your daughter by extension?

Would he be too focused on his wife now?

Even for Nao’s sake, you never once got the urge to know the woman who did the unthinkable.

As a co-parent, you trusted Yoongi. You knew Yoongi would never let just anyone around Nao. If he wants to introduce his daughter to a woman, you knew it was safe. She could be the next Mother Teresa for all you know.

All this blind trust has been earned by him throughout the years you’ve spent with him, you’re not a careless mother.

However, as a woman and Yoongi’s ex-flame, you weren’t eager to know the woman who replaced you. You don’t want to see or meet her. In your eyes, she was able to compel Yoongi to do something he wouldn’t do even after you begged him to. Maybe she didn’t even have to try. She was probably just that perfect for him.

This is apart from the fact that he fell in love with another woman after you while you’re still hung up on him.

You don’t think you can afford to willingly take a hit to your self-confidence like that.

Nao looks up to you. You know you cannot lose yourself when you have so much relying on you.

Taehyung was kind enough to let you get lost in your thoughts.

“No.” You finally answer his question.

You did not want to see what she looked like.

Taehyung nodded once, “Okay. That’s fine.”

Just when Taehyung’s about to put his phone back into his pocket, it rings.

And on the screen pops this gorgeous woman. She looked like she stepped straight out of an issue of Harpar’s Bazaar or even Vogue. You weren’t surprised, you smiled and involuntarily snorted. Taehyung did have a type.

He hurriedly tried to pull his phone off the table, knocking your (thankfully, empty) glass of milk in the process.

“You don’t have to hide her from me, Vincent.” You tease him, using his artist alias. “Is she your new muse?”

Taehyung awkwardly laughed, blatantly ignoring your question.

Suddenly, he changes the topic, “Oh! Do you have to go into work today?”

Your smile drops a little. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

He offered a strained smile, “It’s like I can feel the alcohol in my veins.”

“Heyyy... What’s up with the model babe? Why are you deflecting?” This time you pout.

You hear his phone ring once again. But he immediately declines.

“Taehyung… What’s the matter?” When he refuses to acknowledge you, you grow more concerned.

“You don’t have to stay, you know?” You continue to reassure him.

“It’s not,” he cuts himself off, “That wasn’t my girlfriend.”

Taehyung hopes he doesn’t have to face your inevitable question in line.

“Well, who was that the….” When you trail off mid-response, he knew you had figured out who that woman really was.

The two of you are silent for a moment.

Sullen, you whisper, “That’s his fiancée?”

Taehyung wishes he never came over to your place. He didn’t want to be the one to make you feel this way.

He nods once. Not that you needed that confirmation.

Quickly moving on to your next thought, you question, “Why is she calling you?”

Already on it, Taehyung visibly cringes at the messages on his screen when you push yourself forward to peek into his phone. This time, he doesn’t try to obstruct your vision.

Hyejin (3)

Sorry! I forgot you were at _____’s. It’s nothing important, I just had a question about Nao-chan. Does she like lemon cake? How is _____ doing btw?

Your mouth dropped open.

You don’t even acknowledge the fact that she’s speaking about you so personally; as if you were a friend or even an acquaintance.

You ignore the fact that she’s fucking stunning, owning the most symmetrical, aesthetically pleasing face you’ve ever seen on a grown woman.

You don’t even dwell about how you do not stand a chance against this woman.

The only thing you see is her nickname for your daughter. You squeak, “She calls her Nao-chan!”  

That’s YOUR name for YOUR babygirl.

“Angel…” Taehyung begins but has no idea what he could possibly say to comfort you.

Pull yourself together. You mentally discipline yourself. It takes a minute for you to get there.

Instead of dealing with whatever you just felt, you push it away in an instant and beam at your friend.

“Whatever. Let’s get cheesy naan and shrimp skewers!”

Of course, your faux smile didn’t fool Taehyung, but he went with it anyway.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡tears are in your eyes by yo la tengo ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: i hope i'm doing this series justice lol the ideas in my head run too wild for me to actually make note of them. please let me know what you guys think!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Backstory

Backstory - the history of the character.

It addresses the following:

Who the character is

Why the character is the way he or she is

It’s an origin story, pure and simple.

The most comprehensive backstories start from the very beginning of the character's life and ends the moment that your novel begins.

It’s generally in chronological order, but not necessarily written in narrative form.

It can be a collection of data, such as keystone events, names and dates.

The backstory doesn’t always need to be shared

Most backstories are just for your eyes only.

You can create a complex, rich, hauntingly beautiful backstory for your characters, but that doesn’t mean it should be in your novel.

Far too often, authors try to insert a compelling backstory into their novel. The result? It weighs down the story and slows pacing to a grinding halt.

Resist the urge to add your backstory to your novel unless it’s something that the reader truly needs to know.

You reader probably doesn’t need to know the names of your character’s parents, or other mundane details— but you do. You need to know everything that the character knows. This is how you can write from the character’s point of view effectively. 

Otherwise, you’re phoning it in and writing from sketch, not from portrait.

Depending on the scope of your novel, it may be a good idea to inject some of your backstory into the main story. You’re never going to give everything you know to the reader.

If you dump all of those facts without the benefit of context, it will overwhelm the reader and make it difficult for them to see the story.

As the writer, you take all of the facts you know, carve them into a beautiful work of art, and make the moral of your story obvious.

That’s what makes you the artist, and the editor an essential partner in the process.

Start with a present day character sketch

Even before you start writing, you already have a vague idea of who your character is currently.

Maybe he’s a crusty, old curmudgeon. Maybe she’s a optimistic, but naive, teenager.

No matter who your character is, start with what you know already and go back from there.

Ask and answer the following questions to start crafting a solid backstory:

What is this character’s biggest flaw? What’s the origin of this flaw?

Where is the character from?

Where are the character’s parents from? How did they come to have a child and under what circumstances? Was it a happy union or a chance encounter?

What is the character afraid of? Trace the answer back to the character’s childhood and explain why.

What makes the character happy? Trace the answer back to the character’s childhood and explain why.

What does your character believe about himself and how did he come to this conclusion?

What are his goals? Why does he have these goals?

Pinpoint a life changing moment

Everyone, your characters included, have select moments in their lives that completely alter their choices.

These times are rarely announced with fanfare.

Example: It’s not the wedding day that changes your character’s life, it’s the moment five years earlier when your character meets her spouse-to-be in the line at Burger King.

Thanks to the 20/20 vision of hindsight, you can see how the character’s present day life was shaped by seemingly random encounters and events that took place years ago. Remember that all of her previous choices take place in, and are a reaction to, her backstory.

Those choices made her into the person your reader meets in your novel. How did her life’s experiences shape her into the current character?

Explore the gray

No character is completely good or completely bad.

Resist the urge to paint any character as all evil or all angelic.

Even a villain is the hero of his own story.

Remove your black and white filters and look at the character as someone who exists in shades of gray. If he has experienced kindness along with pain, then your backstory should reflect that.

Use it as motivation

The backstory should always motivate the character - positively or negatively.

The character either stands on what he knows and has experienced, or he’s running away from what he knows and has experienced. Either way, it can make a compelling plot for your novel.

Creating a backstory takes time and thought, but you’ll find that the quality of your writing will improve. Knowing your characters inside and out will make them more real to you and, as a result, more real to your readers.

Source ⚜ Writing Worksheet: Character Backstory Writing References: Worldbuilding ⚜ Plot ⚜ Character

[such-expensive-mistakes]

Superpham AU (part 7)

Masterpost

A short one today, but I thought this section was funny (until it got sad again).

-----

It’s a quiet evening in the Lane-Kent household: Lois is trying to turn her notes into an article, Clark is going over Jon’s math homework, and Jon is watching a show Lois is only half-following.  It features lots of gunfire and explosions, though Lois’s— unfortunately extensive— experience with witnessing real violence makes the version on TV look cartoonish.  She suspects that is part of the show’s appeal.

Danny is paying about as much attention to the TV as Lois is, engrossed in something on his phone.  At least he’s in the same room as the rest of them, instead of sequestering himself away.

“Hey Lois?” Danny suddenly asks.

Lois looks up from her work.  “What’s up?”

“Did you know the internet thinks you’re Superman’s girlfriend?”

Lois knows that if she looks at Clark, he’ll be turning red, the way he always does whenever this particular subject comes up.  Lois herself is barely holding back a laugh.  Jon’s wrinkling his nose, looking thoroughly embarrassed by his parents.

“Well, I am,” she says, barely keeping herself composed.

“No, I mean—” Danny begins.

“You mean people say that I’m dating Superman and married to Clark?”  Lois glances at Clark, who is now hiding his face in his hands.  “Someone forgot to check for cameras after rescuing me a few years back, and we got caught kissing on film.  It was let people think Superman is a homewrecker or let them think I’m in a polyamorous relationship with my husband and his alter ego.”  

“That’s… really weird.”  Danny is giving her the kind of judgmental look only teenagers can give.  

Lois does laugh at that.  “It is, a bit.  But it helps protect Clark’s secret identity, so I don’t mind.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Clark finally says.  “There were other ways to handle that situation; she just thinks this is funny.”

“Even your parents think it’s funny,” Lois says.  Clark just sighs, faux-aggrieved.  

“It’s not even the weirdest thing on the internet about Superman,” Danny says.  “It’s just the weirdest thing everyone agrees is true.”

“Please do not tell me what else you’ve found,” Clark says.  

“You can tell me,” Lois says.  “We can just make Clark leave for a bit.”  Reading conspiracy theories about Superman is her guilty pleasure, though if anyone asks, she does it to keep tabs on anyone who might have a viable way of hurting him.  

Danny just laughs, and something in Lois’s chest seizes up.  Is this the first time she’s heard him laugh since he came back?  She thinks it might be.

She doesn’t want to call attention to it; like as not, that would just make him pull away again.  Instead she says, “Superman doesn’t even get the best conspiracy theories.  Those are all Batman.”  That’s because Bruce purposefully cultivates them, of course, but that’s not important.

“Which one is he, again?” Danny asks.  

It’s not that Lois ever forgets that Danny has spent most of his life in another dimension.  But little offhand comments like that… they really drive it home.  There are plenty of superheroes, even Justice League members, that most of the general public has never heard of— but Batman is not one of them.

She's saved from answering by Clark.

"You'll meet him eventually," Clark says.  "He's a good friend of mine.  And Jon and Kon are close to his two youngest sons, Robin and Red Robin."

Danny nods thoughtfully.  "Right.  I think Red Robin's in the group chat Kon added me to."

Lois reminds herself to thank Kon next time she sees him.  He and Danny seem to have connected, and Kon seems to have made it his personal mission to keep Danny from slipping too far into one of his funks again.

"Speaking of Kon," Clark begins.  "Ma and Pa want to know when we'll be able to make it to Smallville to visit."

They've been trying not to overwhelm Danny by introducing him to too many new people at once, but maybe that was the wrong choice.  Maybe they should be pushing him to get out more, to connect with this dimension.  Besides, Kon spends most of his time in Smallville, and they already know that he and Danny get along.

Lois re-evaluates the article she’s been working on.  Perry would probably appreciate it sooner rather than later, but if she turns in a smaller article this week, she can probably swing a weekend off.  If not, she can always work on it from Kansas.

“This weekend should work,” Lois says.  “If that’s alright with you, Danny.”

Danny looks a little surprised to be consulted.  “I— yeah, that works.  Not like I have anywhere else to be.”  He laughs a little, but the joke falls flat, and Lois resolves to double down on helping Danny connect with more people here in this dimension.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Second Chance

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You’re invited to a Halloween party that Peter may or may not be at. Peter, your ex-boyfriend who you’re still in love with.

Squares Filled: ride for @spider-man-bingo

Author’s Note: this is for any actor who has played peter parker!

x

You’re not even sure if you want to go to this Halloween party. All your friends are going to be there but there is one person who might show up that makes you question if you should go or not. Your parents are out of town so your aunt is taking care of you even though you don’t need a babysitter. She claims she needs to get out of her house and spend some time with you but really, your parents are paranoid that you’re going to bring boys over and party for the entire time they’re gone.

Like you have the energy for that.

You would have stayed home in bed but your aunt kind of forced you to go to this party. She hates seeing you cooped in the house all day. When she heard about this party, she practically bought everything you’re wearing. Now that you’re in the car, you’re questioning if you should get out of it.

“Would you smile? You look like you’re about to cry.”

Maybe you want to.

“What if Peter is there?”

It even hurts to say his name.

“If he is, then you can either ignore him and have fun or you can talk to him.” Your aunt looks at you in thought. “There is no way you two are getting back together?”

“Aunt Jamie…”

“I’m just saying. That boy really loves you.”

That only makes this that much more difficult. You’re in love with him, too. You never stopped. But romance doesn’t always work out for every single couple no matter how they feel for the other. You’d never ask Peter to stop being Spider-Man for you, but it was straining your relationship. At first, you understood that he couldn’t always be with you, that he had to cancel on dates because of some emergency, and he had to put you second sometimes.

It’s just that every single one of those canceled dates and waiting up for him until the early hours of the morning added up. You couldn’t do it anymore. You hated staying up for him not knowing when he was going to come home. You hated wondering if he was even going to make it home. You hated seeing him with cuts and bruises because seeing him in pain put you in pain. He almost died twice, and you couldn’t handle the stress anymore.

You miss him like crazy but he can never stop being Spider-Man, so you can’t be with him.

“We’re not getting back together, Aunt Jamie. He made his choice. That choice wasn’t me.” Your aunt pulls up to the house that’s full of kids from school dressed in different Halloween costumes. “The party ends at midnight but I wouldn’t mind if you picked me up earlier.”

“I’ll let you know,” she chuckles.

Even as you get out of the car, you know she won’t. She wants you to be more social instead of being holed up in your room all the time. She’s gonna make you stay the whole time here. You smooth down your Tinkerbell costume after you shut the door, and you wave to her as you walk up the long driveway. 

Some rich kid’s parents are out of town so naturally, he throws a party in their absence.

The party is in full swing when you walk into the house. The place is so full of kids that you think you might be able to avoid Peter if he is here. He was never the one for parties so he might either be at home or out being Spider-Man. You push past the sea of people to get to the kitchen where your friends are waiting. You plus them equal the fairies of Pixie Hollow. The costume idea was yours and they all loved the idea of dressing up as fairies.

“You made it!” your best friend, Tiana, squeals and pulls you into you.

“Nice Iridessa costume.”

“Thanks! My sister helped to make it. I’m proud of how it turned out!”

“You should be! You’re hot!”

“You’re hot. Damn, that is a short skirt.”

“You know Tinkerbell. Always wearing short dresses.”

“Hey!” Your friend who is dressed as Fawn exclaims. “Let’s play beer pong!”

To think the fairies of Pixie Hollow are playing beer pong. The alcohol was provided by the rich kids’ parents who may or may not know a bunch of underage people are drinking it. Still, you’re not going to complain. Beer doesn’t get you drunk so you can safely play beer pong and drink a few beers without feeling anything.

After two rounds of beer pong, you’re buzzed enough not to care if Peter is here or not. Most of your friends have broken off and gone in separate directions, so you decide to give the game a rest to go find them.

“Y/N! Come join us!” you turn to see Tiana sitting in a circle of people with an empty bottle of beer in the middle. “Come on! Just one round!”

“Why not?”

You need to get over Peter and what better way to do it than kissing random strangers? You join the circle and Tiana grabs the bottle to spin it. She ends up kissing four guys over the course of the game while you have kissed none yet. Even two male best friends had to kiss. One was more into it than the other, but you think he was only like that to mess with his friend. The thing with this game is whoever spins it, gets to pick who gets to kiss the person who the bottle lands on. Tiana is hot and popular so every guy wants to make out with her. She spins the bottle for a final time and smirks when it lands on you.

“You have to kiss someone dressed as Spider-Man.”

This fucker. There is not a single person in the circle who is dressed like Spider-Man, so you’re confused why she would say that.

“There isn’t a Spider-Man here.”

Someone clears their throat behind you and you freeze in your spot. You turn to see Peter standing there in his real fucking Spider-Man suit. No one is the wiser about it since this is a Halloween party. Tiana has always been an advocate for your relationship with Peter. She’s always shipped you two together.

“He’s not even playing the game!”

“Sorry, rules are rules. Unless you’d like to take two shots.”

She knows how much of a lightweight you are when it comes to alcohol. You have no choice but to play the game. You get up and approach Peter who lifts his mask slightly so that only his mouth is exposed. He has a stupid grin on his face that you’d love nothing more than to slap off.

“You’re an ass, you know? No tongue.”

Peter pulls you in by your hips and plants his lips over yours. You part your lip from shock at feeling his lips after all this time, and he takes this opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He gets refamiliarized with the taste of you and now that he has, he doesn’t want to let you go ever again. He let you walk away once. That was his worst mistake. He pulls away from you only to throw you over his shoulder.

“Peter! Put me down! This isn’t part of the game!”

“It is now. Game over!”

Peter takes you upstairs to one of the bedrooms that have a balcony that overlooks the front yard. He lets you down and you push him away from you in frustration. He takes his mask off so you can look into his beautiful eyes.

“What are you doing? We’re broken up.”

“Not anymore.” You open your mouth to respond but he cuts you off. “Look, I was stupid to let you go once. I’m not doing it again. I love you.”

You get tears at the thought of doing this with him all over again. To open up old wounds.

“You know how I feel about this, Peter. I love you but I hate not knowing if you’re going to make it back to me. I admire what you do and you should help those who need it, but I hate being put second all the time. Maybe that makes me selfish,” you sigh.

“It doesn’t. I’ll be more careful. I can’t promise to always put you first, but I’ll make a better effort to. I won’t always go out looking for danger. I just… I need you back in my arms. The bed gets lonely without you.” You truly don’t know what to say to this. He pulls his mask back on and uses his webbing to pull you into his body. “I know what will change your mind.”

You know exactly what is going to happen. You love it when he does this. You wrap your arms around his neck and he jumps off the balcony. You don’t hit the ground because he uses his webbing to swing away from the party. Your wings flap in the wind as if you’re actually flying. Peter keeps an arm wrapped around you, holding you flush against his body.

He swings you two to the top of the Empire State Building, and you gasp at the view no one else will get to see.

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right this time.”

You know he’s grinning even though you can’t see his face.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, baby.”

x

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[sugar-omi]

I don’t think I read cove putting on a condom in that virginity loss post. Do I sense Cove having to awkwardly buy MC plan b? 😏😏🤭

[part 1]

listen. it's up for interpretation✋️😌🤚 maybe the parents left some rubbers in the house bc who KNOWS what'll happen. but that's exactly what i was thinking too🤭

you're both too eager to even think rationally, logically.

by the time he's ruined you with his tongue and stretched you open with his fingers, and the thought finally occurs to you two, you can't just let him go.

you promise him it'll be okay, that it's just one time and today should be safe. that you can just get a plan B and it'll be alright

his brain is too fogged to even disagree. because right now, his dick throbbing at the thought of losing his virginity raw. especially with you. to even think about all the lectures his parents gave, or even think about the consequences and how complicated his feelings are as a big fay teenage accident

tries to put up a bit of resistance, asks if you're sure. if you're really sure.

please don't try to reason with him by saying "well, if we do it raw the first time, i won't get curious when doing it with anyone else..."

because now he has to agree.

because fuck. what if the temptation is just as strong now, as down the line. what if he's too dazed to think straight. maybe, just maybe, feeling how hot and wet your pussy is around his cock will give him a bit of reason if he ever has sex with someone else..

finally he'd just growl lowly, curses and says "okay, fuck.. okay..." because now you've won him over. he can't go back now

thinks he's ruined just when the tip of his cock alone pushes past your entrance, that this is it. he's totally fucking pussy drunk for the rest of his life. there's no way he'll ever be able to recover for the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing around him, your legs and arms tangled around him and your thighs trembling and squeezing around his hips

all he'll be able to think of for the rest of his life will be how your eyes rollback, how they they flutter, and how his name sounds on your lips, all breathy and soft and whiny. it's a fucking symphony and he needs you to keep singing it

pants and inhales like he's running a fucking marathon with every cm and every inch of cock he sinks into you.

he's not small, and he hopes he stretched you enough, and of your hymn is still intact before now, he really hopes this doesn't hurt you too much.

it's so suffocating and hot. and even with tears welling up in your eyes, a tear or two running down your cheeks, he can't help but feel so fucking happy that you're under him like this, clinging onto him. whining and moaning his name. crying about his dick, how he's too fucking thick to fit inside you, how he's nudging your cervix once he's fully inside...

tries to ignore it but he's so happy you're doing this with him.

what if some other asshole had you under him like this. and then ran off and bragged, embarrassing you. or shamed you when you fought for how you cried and clung onto them like a needy whore

really tries to ignore the primalness rising in his chest. but fuck he has to admit his confidence is getting bigger by the second. has been ever since you said he's the only guy you trust to take your virginity and not regret it. that if you had a choice, you'd give it to him.

he's never cared about the whole virginity thing, and purity and all that... just wanted it to be with someone he trusted, and he's glad you feel the same

but now that you're here.. fuck it's flipped a switch inside him

right now, he doesn't know if he wants to give you up. your bodies are connected now.. you're taking him to the hilt, crying his name, and begging him for more.

just minutes ago you begged him to make you cum on his face.

he doesn't want anyone else to see that.

but that's so selfish, and disgusting. you're not even dating. this is just.. both of you taking precautions to not regret your first sexual experience

but fuck.. fuck if he doesn't feel like your souls are connected at this point. if he doesn't feel like you own a piece of him now..

which in fact. you do. and he does too.

he's the first to see you so vulnerable, so intimately.

no one else has seen you like this. you haven't called anyone else's name in that sultry voice and he's the first person besides yourself to make you cum.

he owns those firsts. and you own the same from him.

it's not like it's the first thing you've ever done together, really it shouldn't be this fucking life changing.

but not all best friends tell each other they want the other to pop their cherry, and not all best friends beg the other to please put it in, that that's enough and you're ready for it.

not all best friends moan out each others name, leav dark hickeys on each other, and definitely don't hold hands and kiss like lovers as they gently fuck into the other friend..

God he hopes he's your only best friend. at least the only best friend who can do this to you.

you're hardly accustomed to the intrusion before he picks up the pace. he had just kissed the tears off your cheeks and told you it's okay, he has you, you're doing so good..

and now he's slamming his hips down, his body weight pushing you into the mattress, and his face is buried in your neck, muttering apologies in your ear as if that'll make up for his cock bullying your sensitive, deflowered insides

you're so sensitive from your previous orgasms, and this is a whole new sensation. it's too much, he's so mean, but if he really was that mean, why is he holding your hand and kissing you, squeezing his hand between your body to rub your clit...

cove's always so sweet, so you can forgive him for being a bit of a bully tonight. even if your cervix and pussy is so tender afterwards, you can get over it because fuck it's too good to be mad at him

he's hitting all those spots you can't reach with your fingers, his cock dragging along every spot and his fat cock top nudging that delicious spot between your walls

he thinks he's gone to heaven when you lock your legs around him, begging him to keep hitting that spot. of course, he obliges, adjusting his knees and trying to keep a god rhythm as he fucks into that spot that has you crying so loudly, your nails dragging down his back...

you feel so fucking good.. and he groans when he looks between your bodies and see the creamy ring around his cock, strings of slick and cum connecting your pussy to his abdomen and the mess is all over both of your guys thighs.

it's sloppy. and dirty. dirtier than those sloppy French kisses you engaged in earlier, and cove didn't think he could get any harder until right now

between the mess and the way your pussy clings to his cock, the obscene shlicking noises, the way your cunt accepts him and gushes around him like you're made for him, and he's made for you..

he can't hold it anymore. especially when you cry as you cum around his cock, your legs locking behind his back ad your ego him to keep going.

cages you in his arms as he uses your pussy to bring him over the edge, running tight circles around your clit.

you're not letting up, even when he says he's gonna cum, that he should cum outside.. fuck it probably doesn't matter if he pulls out at this point.

all the pre cum his fat, pretty cock drooled inside your pussy, and if you made him cum before you went all the way, his cock was already sticky and wet with his semen, it's far too late to be cautious now.

his eyes roll back and flutter shut when he cums, groaning and he can't help but bite into your shoulder, not even thinking twice about it whole he dumps his fat, thick load inside your poor cunt..

he's totally painting your walls white, and it's spilling out around his cock.. you didn't think he could cum so much, didn't think it'd be possible..

it'll definitely be impossible to clean out later. you can feel how thick and clingy his cum is, you're going to be fingering and scooping out cum fron your sensitive guts for so long...

you have to ignore that dark part of you that says his cum is perfect for getting you pregnant. that it'd fill your womb up so nicely, that if it didn't take the first time it'd be a fucking miracle.

you choking around the primal urges filling up your chest, your brain.. you have to get him off you before you beg him to fuck you again. before a second round turns to three, than four...

you've been so irresponsible. but at least you can curse yourself about that instead of having your first times with assholes, right?

and at least cove will buy the plan B himself, or at least pass you the money for it. he's still a better gentleman than any other guy out there, so you definitely can't be mad about your first time...

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter tags/warnings: not much yet, age gap, fluff, reader being horny (c'mon y'all it's me what do you expect), Javier being gorgeous, erotic novels honorable mention, mentions of cheating, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Chapter summary: You meet a beautiful stranger at the farmer's market. Is he what you need to get back on your feet?

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so very excited about starting this series! I have so many plans, and I can't wait to share them with you! Please keep in mind that this story will get darker the more it progresses. Thank you for reading!

***

You’ve been back in your hometown for about three months now. Three miserable and exhausting months. 

You’ve been working on the family farm four days a week, ten hours a day, every week since you got back. You figure it wouldn’t be so bad if you got to have the other three days off, but no. Those days are spent at the local farmer’s market, sitting in a stiff plastic chair in the sticky Texan heat. 

It doesn’t even matter that you wear a tank top and shorts to the market, you feel like you’re going to melt every damn time you have to go. The same goes for working on the farm, only you’re less fortunate in that situation. You know it’s smarter to wear jeans out there, so most of the time you do.

You’re trying to be grateful to your parents, you really are. They just make it so damn hard sometimes. Sure, they gave you a job when you needed one, but they never stop talking about how they were right. And they were, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. 

Your mom and dad never approved of your boyfriend, and had told you as much. You chose to ignore that fact considering they said that about every boyfriend you ever had. How the hell were you supposed to know if they were actually concerned, or if they just didn’t want you to date?

They had warned you about him. Told you that he wasn’t genuine, that you need to be careful. They told you the same about your so-called “best friend”, who was the person you found your boyfriend balls deep inside of three months ago.

But, of course, despite their protest, you had moved out with him anyway. Spent your savings on renting an apartment that he put practically nothing into. In retrospect, you really should have known; there were so many signs. You were just too damn stubborn to see them. You never would have guessed that he would go as far as to cheat on you.

Your own poor choices are what ultimately landed you back here, getting out of your dad’s old truck to unload a creaky table to set up the stand at the farmer’s market. Again. You roll your eyes and pop your earbuds in, putting on your favorite playlist. 

You open the back of the truck and start to drag the plastic table out. It slides across the bed effortlessly thanks to the morning dew it’s been sitting out in. Unfortunately, that detail is another pain in the ass more than anything, because you end up getting half-soaked as you haul it into the giant tent that makes up the market.

You get it set up in an empty booth, smacking the rusted hinges to get it to stand without risk of collapse. After you lean on it to make sure it won’t fall, you return to the truck to start the endless trips of carrying produce to the stand. You usually make your younger sister help you with this part since she often tags along, but, being a senior in highschool, she couldn’t make it today. 

Once you have everything put together and displayed on various shelves, you take a seat in the foldable chair you had brought with you. You expect it will be a slow day, as Mondays usually are, so you brought a book to pass the time. 

You rarely sell anything on weekdays, you have no idea why your parents are so adamant about you coming all the way out here every monday since you got here. Maybe it’s just to get you out of the house—you wouldn’t put it past them.

You take one more look around the market to make sure there’s nobody approaching your stand before you open your book to the first page. It’s a newer, trashy romance. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but you like what you like. 

Sometimes you swear your love life is awful or boring enough for you to actually wish to be in the place of the girls in your books. At least the fictional men seem genuine. Less likely to cheat on you with your best friend, you think bitterly. 

Less likely to manipulate into moving into an expensive apartment without helping, Less likely to treat you like shit. Plus, you probably wouldn’t mind the fact that they all seem to be absolute hunks and amazing in bed.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from your spiraling thoughts, your cheeks reddening once you realize you have been staring blankly at the same page for a good few minutes. 

You have to steady yourself so you don’t drop your book on the dirt below you, which has you almost falling out of your chair in the process. 

You glance up at the stranger as you situate yourself, which doesn’t do much to help. The man is drop-dead fucking gorgeous. He’s staring down at you, clearly amused. His full lips are tugged up into a half-smirk. You think for a second that he looks familiar, but you would for sure remember seeing a man like this.

His hair is dark, a bit long and shaggy, but in the way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. He wears sunglasses, you notice with disappointment. You don’t know why you have such a strong urge to see what’s hidden under there. You’re guessing they’re brown. He seems to carry a kind aura, it’s a fitting idea that his eyes would be warm.

Even though you sense such a kindness emanating from him, there’s an annoying nagging from the back of your head that makes you uneasy. His stare is almost imposing, the way he carries himself adding so much to the effect. Your stomach bunches up in a frustrating way that signifies both anxiety and lust. You don’t really care much to figure out which is dominant at the moment. 

All you know is that you’re drawn to this man like a moth to a flame, and that after all you’ve been through, you deserve to admire him at the very least. It’s not often you come across such a good looking man. A fictional looking man. 

He cocks his head after you stare for what could probably be considered a second too long. Your face must be about the shade of a tomato at this point. The weight of an object in your hand quickly reminds you of the task at hand. 

This is a potential customer. You need to stop staring like a schoolgirl. Besides, he must be what… ten, fifteen years older than you? God, you can’t even tell. He looks mature, but somehow ageless at the same time. He has strong, masculine features, but a sort of boyish quality, too. If someone told you he was some kind of a god himself, you would have no trouble believing them.

“I-I’m so sorry, let me just put this down,” you say to the god, trying not to stumble over your own words after getting caught ogling. 

“No problem at all, sweetheart,” he says, clearly unbothered. Fuck, his voice. It’s deep and rich, and he has some sort of accent,  like he grew up speaking another language. Spanish? Probably spanish. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Down, girl.

You take a breath in through your nose, willing yourself to relax as you set your book down on the table in front of you. You resist the urge to shut your eyes out of embarrassment as he looks down at the erotic cover, and then back at you with an arched brow and an amused smile. You move quickly as you snatch the book back to flip it back-side-up.

“What can I get for you, sir?” you quietly attempt to move on from that interaction, trying to reign in some of your composure. He’s standing with one hand on his hip, which is jutted out just slightly. He licks his plush lips and stands up mostly straight before he speaks. He pulls a piece of paper out of his snug back pocket and starts to read off of it. 

Your face keeps a nice flush as he reads off of his list. Your core throbs every now and again as he talks, making it a bit hard for you to concentrate, but you’re pretty sure you got everything. 

You nod at him to let him know as much before you get up to collect everything. Who knows if your voice even works right now. You do your best to ignore the weight of his stare on your back as you move around.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” he says, obviously wanting to start a conversation. “You been here long?”

“No, not really,” you say, trying to level your voice as you place produce into bags. “Well, kind of. I grew up here but I moved away a few years ago. Only been back for a couple months now. I’m staying to help my parents for a bit before I can get back onto my feet,” you finish as you secure the last bag. 

You look up as you place the goods on the table, this time meeting the man’s uncovered eyes. Brown and expressive, just as you imagined. You smile absentmindedly, and he mirrors your action, making your stomach twist once again. What a fucking smile. 

“Well, welcome back, then,” he says. “I’m Javier. Prefer it if you would call me Javi, though.” 

“Javi it is,” you say, liking the feel of his name on your tongue. You tell him your name and he nods. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” 

Fuck this man, he has to know what he’s doing. 

“Thank you,” you say, trying to control the pitch of your voice. 

He watches you as you place his bags on the table in front of you, now full of his requested items. As you catch his gaze, everything around you seems to fade to black. No sounds, no movement. All you can focus on is the sudden electric current that is born between the two of you. 

A nervous flutter starts in your stomach, but you just can’t bring yourself to look away, as if the attraction would be broken and gone forever if you did. The two of you hold eye contact for what could be a minute or ten before someone walks past your stand, drawing your attention back to reality.

You both let out a breath you’ve been holding, yours probably more shaky than his. You shake your head and start to add up his total after wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts. He stands back on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you work.

It only takes a moment. You tell him his total and he slides his wallet out, handing you the exact cash. You both thank each other at the same time, making you giggle. He smiles wider at the sound. 

“You’ve got a nice laugh, sweetheart,” he complements warmly. 

“Thank you. I made it myself,” you joke. Javi chuckles to himself, almost like he’s surprised to hear you make a joke. “Sorry,” you say, laughter in your own voice. “That was kind of lame.” 

“No, that was pretty clever, actually,” he says through his smile. 

You let yourself get one more good look as you reciprocate the gesture, fully expecting him to part ways. He doesn’t though, instead he asks you the one question you had hoped that nobody would ask you. 

“What brought you back here?” 

Your smile drops slightly and you consider lying to him, telling him that your parents wanted your help and that’s all. You know you can’t, though. There’s no point in trying to hide the truth. Nothing stays hidden in this small town. 

So you don’t. You sum up every stupid, unfair thing that made you return home. There’s a flash of sympathy in his gaze that makes you want to shut up, but some sick part of you craves that sympathy at the same time. 

It only takes you a couple minutes to have everything out, but he stays quiet and patient the entire time. Never interrupting you once and nodding along at all the right parts to let you know he’s listening. 

You haven’t felt this seen in a long time, It feels good. It makes you want to wrap yourself up in this total stranger’s arms and beg him to hold you. Fuck, now you’re picturing that. You need to not picture that. Luckily you don’t have much of a chance to, because he’s responding to you only a few seconds after you finish. 

“Well, that’s a damn shame. Fuckin’ boys don’t even know how to treat a sweet girl anymore.” Javi says, making you blush once again. 

The attention he gives you feels the same as jumping into a cool pool after being in the sun all day. It’s unbelievably refreshing to hear something like that instead of the usual scolding and ‘I told you so’s.  

He seems to put thought into what comes out of his mouth, and it genuinely makes you feel like he cares. Like he wants to make sure you hear what you deserve to hear.

“What makes you so sure I’m sweet?” you ask playfully, trying to change the topic to ignore the craving for more kind words. Might as well flirt a little while you’re at it, you figure. What can it hurt?

“Just a hunch,” he says, his tone the same as yours as his smile crinkled eyes bore into yours. You nod a little, your adoring smile never wavering.

 You both notice the small line of people beginning to form behind Javi at the same time. He almost looks disappointed at the sight, like he doesn’t want to leave just yet. 

“Just one second, honey,” he says, digging the scrap of paper from before out of his pocket again. Once he has that laid against the table in front of him, he supplies a pen from the front pocket of his shirt. He uses it to scribble something down onto the paper. 

You crane your neck slightly to try to catch a peak, but you can’t tell with how fast he’s writing. When he’s done, he folds it once, slides it your way, and gives a singular nod. 

“See you around, sweetheart,” he says as he starts to leave. 

“Yeah. See you,” you mumble under your breath as you watch him stride away, bags of produce in hand.

A woman walks up to the table, and you quickly turn to her. 

“So sorry about that. How can I help you?” you ask quickly, eyeing the paper Javi left behind.

It only takes you a little while to get everyone who was in line checked out, but it feels like it could have been hours. As soon as the last customer starts to walk away, your hands are on the note, shakily unfolding it to reveal Javi’s (suitably) scratchy handwriting. 

You see what you can only assume to be his phone number, and above it, there’s a note. 

“I would love to see you again, sweet girl. Give me a call?” 

Your heart flutters as you bite your lip and read the note over again. There’s no way you’re not taking up that offer. 

***

Thank you so much for reading!! I would absolutely love any kind of feedback so I know where everyone's at on this!! I have a tag list open for this series if anybody would like to join <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @survivingandenduring @kewwrites (pls lmk if these tags worked!)

[gracemarkss]

i really do think we lose out on a lot by cutting ethan from the pilot. so much of what we learn about scully in subsequent episodes and seasons - her relationships with her father, with jack, with daniel; her experiences in never again and how she describes her relationship to authority; the themes of normalcy and expectation, desire and fear, what you should want vs what you actually want, letting yourself want; about having a life and drawing lines and getting out of the car…once you learn about jack, ethan makes so much sense.

how much time passed between her time at the academy and dating jack and her assignment to the x files? months, a year at most maybe? with the revelations in lazarus, you start to wonder, what made her go from a superior decades older than her who’s intensity is his downfall to a regular run of the mill guy in her peer group? when she talks about other fathers in never again, taken with everything she’s said about wanting “a life”, it becomes a bit more clear - this was a course correction. it’s all the more clearly drawn in all things, another taboo relationship with a man she could never bring home. is it “normal” to date your teacher, have emotional affairs with married professors twice your age? is that what good catholic girls do? can you bring these men to sunday dinner with your parents’ pastor? so ethan is a conscious choice. an experiment in normalcy. an attempt at the clean cut boyfriend that you can bring home to dad, with an eye on the house in the suburbs, the picket fence, the 2.5 kids. she doesn’t not want it. she wants to want it. it’s what girls from her background are expected to do. missy certainly isn’t going to. so it’s up to her. and she’s already rebelled so much already, with her career choices. she can do this. she can want this. she can be a good daughter. she can make this work.

but then there’s the assignment. then there’s mulder. then there’s passion and intensity adventure and a fierce dedication to the truth, to helping people, to a dogged pursuit of justice (whatever form that might take). there’s the adrenaline rush over lost time beside empty graves in the rain. there’s this strange man you just met being so careful with your vulnerability, and handing his to you in kind. how can a weekend out of town with ethan compare to this? what’s the house and the fence and the sunday dinners compared to this?

so ethan is is out. the experiment in normalcy has failed. but the fear lingers. there are still expectations to meet. there are still parts of her that wants it. she could get it if she really tried. it’s something that she comes back to over and over again, fear vs desire, the contradictions in all the things she wants and needs, the heavy weight of expectation, both from others and her own. and i think it’s all communicated that much more clearly and powerfully when ethan’s presence is maintained in the pilot.

[yuri-is-online]

Thinking about the future kid au and Jamil!Yutu (help his tsum is so cute, i love the tsum events)

Like...you said Jamil! Yutu wishes he wasn't born so his dad wouldn't have been executed because some Asim relatives guilted him (desoite them being the ACTUAL reason he died)

Needless to say his relationship with his dad is complicated , but I can't stop thinking about Yutu being of two minds about his parents like "I'm gonna get in the way of your plans for the evening because I don't want either of you to get close and eventually die because of me" but also somehow everything he attempts doesn't work

Because Jamil isn't one to give up easily (none of the boys are) and he just- feels so much freer and happier than he ever has when he gets to trade snarky comments, silly puns and honest praise with Yuu. And he won't let this mysterious guy get ik the way of that, he pretends to enjoy his remaining years at NRC to the best of his ability thank you very much. Plus he's working on gaining his freedom and Yuu is his number one cheerleader at this don't tell Kalim tho he'll be sure to cranck up his enthusiasm if you do ofc he won't stop talking to them nor dreaming of what could be, it's all he has to avoid going mad

Yutu however is losing his mind because every time there's danger he gets reminded of his dad's corpse being dragged around and he keeps worrying this time his dad will die trying to protect Yuu from harm

Little does he know Jamil would rather give his life protecting Yuu than any Asim because that's his CHOICE and that's the person who chose HIM over everyone else. Cue Yutu recovering from the battle, looking around frantically for signs of either of his parents and seeing Yuu patching Jamil up, bantering lightly and sharing such soft looks. They look so happy despite their bruises and suddenly Yutu gets this nauseating feeling of dread because he can see why they fell in love, which means maybe he's too late to stop it now

And then Grim complains that he's hungry after the fight and they both share this look and Yutu gets the little sadness of "oh, this is what it would've been like"

Just- aaaaaaahhhhhhh this au is so good and so angsty but also I wanna add just a little bit of fluff for these poor boys (my original thought was of Yutu seeing his parents meeting in the town and following them to try to sabotage their not-date only to end up making each scenario more romantic until he gives up when they start dancing in the middle of nowhere and he recognizes the dance from when Yuu taught him many years ago)

Happy Birthday Jamil (so sorry this is late), the tsum part of this post really shows you how old it is I am so sorry. Jamil is a real cutie though, his birthday message this year is him thanking Yuu for being someone he can trust to give him something without having ulterior motives. Post OB! Jamil should have a special sort of respect for Yuu I think. He understands what it is like to have to care for someone who makes a lot of problems against your will, but maybe not that you could love that person in the way Yuu loves Grim. Lots to think about with JamilYuu, lots to think about... so this one gets to have two parts as well whoops.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, CW lots of self hatred and thoughts of death, body horror, major character death, bullying, and brief mention of suicide. This post features some o.c.s created by @archetypal-archivist for this ayuu. More information about the ayuu can be found here, here, and here. Masterlist can be found here

The early morning is a sacred time for your little family.  When Yutu was little you would sneak into his room to make sure he was still asleep.  He never was, he'd developed some sort of sixth sense for when his favorite person was home and would wait patiently snuggled into the red scarf he used as a security blanket to surprise you.

“Boo!”  The scarf would go up in the air and you would let out an exaggerated gasp of surprise as your son giggled in manic delight.  “I got you!”

“You got me!”  He'd been little enough to lift up into the air then, you miss those days even though they were difficult.  

Your son still “spooks” you when you come home in the morning.  His former blanket has become a part of his wardrobe, and he's much too big for you to lift up over your head anymore but he's not pretending to be asleep anymore either.  

“Boo!”  Today Yutu has made some tomatoes and eggs, you think you smell coffee but that's not a smart thing for you to be drinking right now.  

“Thank you, little light.”  You settle down at your kitchen table and Yutu excitedly tells you about his plans for the day.  When he does this you always feel lucky, as if you didn't expect him to be such a normal and happy child.  As if there was something other than poverty and your illness that would hold him down and deny him any sense of self or success.  Yutu has never felt like there is anything he cannot do so long as he tries, he's very ambitious, your little light.  You've told him more than once you hope his spark never dims, that you are so proud of him for not letting his circumstances dictate his goals.

There's some relief in knowing you aren't here to see him hiding behind his scarf again.  It would hurt you to see how fast he shrinks away from the lich descending from his throne, putrid rotting flesh assaulting his nose even through the silk guard.  This is his fault, he can find no other logical explanation.  You would disagree, he has no idea what the corpse in front of him would say, but neither of you lived to see what he has.  He's not so full of himself that he thinks the world ended with his birth, but yours most certainly did.  

Yutu is a smart and polite child, the sort of little boy who makes old ladies swoon and insist that his parents are so lucky to have him.  That was a point of pride for him before arriving in Twisted Wonderland.  He never had too many questions about his father, he could see he wasn't the only one of his peers who was being raised by a single parent which was enough reassurance for him.  Maybe he'd meet his father one day, maybe he wouldn't.  He was much more concerned with making friends and learning everything he could.

He loves school in general, but his favorite subject is the stars.  It starts with him trying to amuse himself while waiting for you to come home from work and evolves into a hobby as he gets older.  His first proper expensive present is a refurbished telescope you spent a lot of time researching and asking questions about.  That's the first chip at his self confidence when he's alone in Twisted Wonderland; you worked so hard for that gift and he didn't bring it with him.  Sure, he didn't know what was happening but he knew something was off.  He should have grabbed it and kept it close…

Star gazing isn't his only hobby, he really likes cooking and experimenting with coffee.  He took up cooking because he was tired of waiting for you to come home and make food and expected it to be boring but there's something fulfilling about eating food you've made yourself he really likes.  The fact it makes him more attractive to his classmates is not something he thinks about at all, not one little bit.  You've never found him making extra food for a particular “friend” with a familiar determined smirk on his face.  “Your father used to do the same thing.”  You say it absentmindedly, the look of embarrassment you're met with is also quite similar.  “Not.  Another.  Word.”  

Money is tight, but Yutu still finds ways to participate in extracurricular activities.  He wants them on his college applications, sure, but he also wants friends, his own little group of people who won't care too much about his parent's reputation. Cooking club and drama class end up being his home base, you've got an unwilling front row seat to so much pointless highschool drama it gives you a headache.  He likes playing pickup basketball with his friends but joining the team isn't something he got a chance to do before getting isekaid.

The little bits and pieces you remember about his father make him out to be extremely normal. You remember his favorite food, that he liked cooking and playing basketball. You tell your son he takes after his father in how talented he is; Yutu is proud to be like his father, he assumes that he will get the full story from you someday. Maybe his dad died, maybe you never told him that he was going to be a father out of fear and never got a chance because you lost your memories in a tragic accident. Either way, Yutu is sure that one day he will find out who his father is and he'll be able to help you reconcile your relationship, whether it's by processing his death or reconnecting your friendship.

There's nothing particularly special about the day you remember.  He felt like trying something new with his hair and you had offered to turn his scarf into a turban, memories of fireworks sparking your hands into motion while Yutu tells you about what his teacher wants the school play to be this year.

“Careful!”  Yutu whines as you pull his hair through the cloth.  

“I am being very careful.” You laugh, the look on Yutu's face is familiar. Just like... “Jamil bought this for me, you know.”

“Jamil?” Yutu has never heard that name before, but he can tell it's important. He's never heard you sound so tender before.

“I think we were joking about push presents and he was offended thinking he had to wait until you were born to get me something nice.”  There was meant to be a matching piece of jewelry with Yutu's birthstone he thought you didn't know about, but then…  how could you have forgotten that?  You were going to make fun of him for how sloppy Yutu's birth was making him.  He was losing his touch, the old Jamil never would have been so obvious with a surprise.

“Is that such a bad thing?  You're giving me a gift.” Jamil is looking up at you confused, but it's not Jamil, it's your son. Your little light who- "You look so much like him." Your hand shakes, the world around you fades to black and Yutu begins to scramble.

~~~~

When Yutu opens his eyes he's in a dark room in front of a mirror with a mask hovering in a sea of green flame, there is noise buzzing around him that must be conversation, but try as he might he can't reign himself back into focus. You are still, eyes glassy and unresponsive to his calls. There is a man shaking him, trying to pull him to his feet as he calls for... the word he uses is healer and that allows Yutu to settle himself. "... a healer and take Yuu to the hospital wing immediately!" The Headmage snaps and a woman with brown hair immediately bolts to obey. The person next to her reaches out, but does not follow; the boy's presence is throwing cold water over a particular part of the crowd they would be wise to keep watch over. That isn't the right word so Yutu must be dreaming, he gives the man in the fur coat his attention and obeys, stepping forward to allow the mirror to judge his soul.

"Scarabia." If Yutu was not so convinced he was dreaming he would notice the way the person who approaches him looks, the meaning behind the fur coat's insistence he stay put and wait for him in the mirror chamber. But he does not. So when that person extends their hand, welcomes him to Scarabia and asks him to follow he thinks nothing of it. This is all a bad dream, you will shake him awake and tell him more about Jamil.

Not that he really needs to wait.

The first hit is a slap, the second is a basic fire spell but he doesn't know that when it sears his skin. He doesn't even know why these students are so angry, doesn't recognize his own last name he just thinks the word Viper is being used as an insult. When smoke begins to surround him he assumes the other students have decided to stop toying with him. He's going to die. He just found out his father's name, magic is real, other worlds are real, you are dead. You are dead and there's a foul smelling smoke around him; he's never really thought about what it would be like to die but Yutu finds himself surprisingly calm. "We'll be together soon, [parent]... father are you waiting too?"

"I would hate to waste a necklace on the likes of you." An authoritative voice cuts through the smoke, Yutu recognizes this person as his attackers scatter. The strange one who tried to stop the woman who ran off after the man in the fur coat spoke. They are wearing a lot of jewelry, necklaces and bracelets with strange symbols that seem to thrum with power in a way that sends a shiver down his spine. A rueful smile crosses their lips for a brief second. "Not that it would be a waste of course." Their focus turns to the cause of the smoke, a kerchief they give one more good shake before tucking it back into a pouch with even more strange necklaces wrapped around it.

"Where am I?" Yutu sounds so small, he curses himself silently for it but how else is he supposed to feel when the mysterious stranger looks at him with so much pity?

"Exactly where you belong." They say with authority, as if they are attempting to shut out any doubts before they can form. "But, as much as it shames me to suggest it, that might not be the safest place for you right now."

Misbah is how this person introduces themselves. Their friend, who is beyond stressed to see Yutu so disheveled and insists on healing him before allowing him to see you, is named Sehrish. Explanations can wait until Yutu has had time to say his goodbyes, but the look the older students exchange when you ask them to make sure your son isn't treated like Jamil once was tells him there must be a lot of them. Of the three adults, no one agrees how to give him those explanations either. The only thing they do agree on is that it is unsafe for him to be in Scarabia right now, but there won't be a problem with Ramshackle Dorm even if it's name suggests to Yutu that there really probably should be.

Crewel takes him there, explaining along the way who he is and what he was to you; a professor turned reluctant mentor who cared very deeply about Yuu and Jamil's future. He's reluctant to think of himself as a grandfather, he's just not that old he insists and Yutu laughs just the little bit, but if Yutu has questions about Yuu and your time at the school he is more than welcome to ask. On his father he doesn't say much, simply that he is dead. Murdered actually, but the use of that word is complicated by the circumstances of it so Crewel does not suggest Yutu speak of his family to anyone other than Misbah and Sehrish. Yutu learns, later much later, that Crewel didn't wish to traumatize him further. That he wished to take his time in explaining things. A good idea, but no one that realistically was going to work.

Ramshackle Dorm is unlike the other dormitories at NRC, all the students save him are magicless exactly like his parent. They all know a lot about his parent too, much to his surprise you are something of an idol to these people. None of them mind that he can use magic, it's just neat to be able to talk about the magicless prefect with someone who also thinks they're super cool; some of them have family or family friends that went to NRC while you were here and saw how you handled the overblots, others learned of you when they came here as refugees and were offered a place in the program. "Ramshackle is for misfits and outcasts!" A particularly messy third year proudly tells him when he asks him why they don't mind. Yutu doesn't really know how to feel about that. He never manages to figure it out.

Sehrish is a graduate student and Misbah is a fourth year, which as Misbah explains to him means they spend most of their time "in the field." They wished to say everything from the start, Sehrish wanted to explain herself and her family but did not think herself qualified to say anything more. Was uncertain of how her story would make him feel, afraid of it. The Scalding Sands is their primary focus, that would have been his homeland too had Yuu not been disappeared. Currently it is under the rule of a phantom of the Sorcerer of the Sands, one of the Great Seven Yutu will learn about as his classes progress. Misbah does not hesitate to tell him that this phantom once possessed his father when he was a student, and it is believed that this time it is possessing his corpse. It's a thought that sickens Yutu, how could this have happened? And why?

The why is explained to him in parts. Sehrish starts with the history of the Al-Asims, of the city they helped to build and the relationship between her family and his. She describes his father's burning resentment of his station matter-of-factly. His father was a servant from a well liked and respected family, but that reputation came at a cost. The respect was not for him or his talents, it was for how well he served his master and it drove him mad. The desire for freedom and recognition transformed into a phantom, his parent had fought against it and seen it defeated but somehow it had returned to rule over the Scalding Sands.

Overblotting is something Yutu thinks he has begun to understand, his professors have focused on it heavily so he knows what a phantom is. He's even seen a few small ones, but a phantom large enough to rule over a kingdom resembling one of the Great Seven is... frightening. The other students are all more or less aware of their existence and Sehrish takes the rest of her time to explain where and who the other Phantoms used to be. "We don't know why this happened." But people have theories. There is a timeline he learns from other students whispering behind his back, how his parent disappeared and then suddenly Kalim Al-Asim was murdered.

The living Al-Asims aren't at NRC, there is a rival school across the Island where they chose to stay. They don't speak to Sehrish, the only people he can speak to with any level of authority are the one or two older servants who worked with his grandparents. They speak fondly of the Viper family, though of Jamil they offer little specifics. Murder is again the word used for what happened to him, quietly after looking over their shoulder. Yutu had an Aunt named Najma. She was lively, talked about Jamil's business and constantly made fun of him while being proud of his accomplishments. The Vipers were an honorable family. They didn't want trouble. Did not want to rock the boat. But his father must have otherwise he wouldn't have wanted to overblot...

Yutu wasn't quiet before Twisted Wonderland. He thought of himself as outgoing, you would be so sad to see how small his friend circle has gotten. As time passes, as he fights smaller phantoms, ventures into the Queendom on his first real mission, as he looks in the mirror and realizes he has scars now. His scarf has protective sygils embroidered by Misbah to repair the holes, he's met a merman with pointed teeth who mixed him a drink and told him a story about his father that made him sound... human in a way that scared him out of asking for more.

Yutu has seen what his father became, looked a rotting corpse into what remained of it's eyes and listened to it try to speak with a windpipe welded together by ink. The lich sorcerer of the sands is his father. Yutu has spent enough time listening to his Ramshackle dormmates explain their medical studies to see he died young; there are traces of poisons in the hairs he returns to Idia that make even him shudder. He will never get the full story, never get more from his classmates or the Al Asim representative he meets when returning Kalim's body about how this happened. Just that it was deserved, that none of this would have happened if Jamil had known his place and never obtained his freedom. That isn't something Yutu can bring himself to agree with. His father had every right to want the same say in his life that you had worked so hard to give him, and you...

If you asked Yutu when he started feeling like he did not deserve to exist, he wouldn't be able to give you a specific answer. He certainly never felt like he didn't belong in your world, the general sense of disbelonging he felt he always attributed to his ignorance of his father's identity. But that was a fixable problem, he so firmly believed he would one day get to meet his dad and other family and then all those burning cultural questions would be patched up. But Twisted Wonderland was another matter entirely, the harsh welcome made him feel unwanted even if the Ramshackle students went out of their way to try and mitigate that. But all of that acceptance, all of that love was tied to you. The living Al Asims looked at him and saw a pest, expected him to show deference and repent for his father's misdeeds, while the older servants saw a tragedy. A child so fondly spoken of and wished for but doomed to wander in a broken world none of them expected to survive. Either way, the only message Twisted Wonderland had to offer him was one of rejection. Whenever he made up his mind, by the time he made it to the past and was settled into your version of Ramshackle Dorm he was determined to keep you from making the mistake of staying with his father.

Part 2