#mostly because those couple of articles i opened made me so sad

[theculturedmarxist]

These days I mostly avoid being around art spaces and the dwindling population of people that frequent them. This is for the same reason you might duck an old friend who’s been transformed by time and circumstance into a thing that you scarcely recognize. Sometimes it’s better to remember them as they were.

I broke my rule the other night to attend the closing of a theater I built long ago, and it was every bit as sad and disappointing as I would have expected. Hardly anyone came to send her off, and the ones that did could muster nothing better than a couple of beers and off to bed. The whole thing was over by 11.

“Who are you voting for,” a pudgy, bearded, graying Xer, asked me before I left. He was wearing a kind of middle-aged bohemian get-up, right down to the hipster hat, that made him look like he’d just stepped out of a commercial for a new Type II diabetes drug. I’m down to talk my doctor about . . .

“I’m writing in Dave Chappelle,” I said.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the part of his brain that knew how to process a dissenting opinion. Not finding one he sputtered, “But you’re not for Trump.”

“No.”

Then a skinny, wan, pale guy with sunken eyes, and long, greasy black hair, sober as a judge, like someone who’d acquired all the physical attributes of heroin addiction, without ever having had any of the fun, said, “Then you have to vote for Biden, or Trump wins.”

“So what,” I said.

And that was when they both shit themselves and I had to do the whole red-pill/blue-pill thing. By the time that was over, everyone else had gone and I followed suit. Leaving the building for the last time, I thought of livelier days when the whole place, the whole block, the whole city, was full of life and crazy energy.

How did this happen? How did we get here?

This is an article I’ve started, abandoned, and started again a few times over the years. That’s partly because I still had some hope when I began that I might one day be able to return to my craft as a theater director without revealing my opinions. But that was before Due Dissidence had a YouTube show. Now I very visibly express ideas 3-4 times a week that would get me professionally and socially cancelled in about 5 minutes as soon as anyone from that crowd took the time to check out the channel, which of course they would.

Another thing that’s kept this one at the bottom of the digital drawer is lingering affection for a lot of people who are still making the music, lighting the lights, and all that. I have dear friends in the arts and this is going to hurt some of their feelings. Except for the ones who regularly DM to thank me for saying what they can’t without risking career suicide. Those will be greatly cheered by this piece, in the way of a bullied child watching their tormentor take a hard fist to the nose, so I guess in the end that part’s a wash. Here goes.

In the 8 years since the election of doom that transformed me from the kind of guy who wanted to have a beer with Rachael Maddow, to the kind of guy who would protest her book reading, I’ve had lots of debates with lots of people.  Enough to notice a distinct pattern

Conservatives will generally keep it on the issues; they may not agree with you, but as a rule they aren’t going to go right to ad hominem attacks on your character.  Liberals can go either way: they may debate the issues with you, but they’re just as likely to attack you personally as a closet Republican, a Russian plant, or if you happen to be a white man, that’s kind of their go-to.  But the absolute worst people you can find yourself engaging with are members of the arts community.  I know this because I’ve been a member of it since at the tender age of 19, I bullshitted my way into a directing gig at the still extant 13th Street Repertory Theater. 

The artists I worked with then as a kid from Queens dazzled by the bohemian world I had infiltrated wouldn’t recognize the artists of today, and I suspect they wouldn’t like them all that much.  Heirs to a 60’s counter-culture ethos of distrust for authority and institutions, and to an older tradition of the artist-intellectual, they generally thought of all politicians as dishonest psychopaths, and spent more time discussing Kafka than the evils of Soviet Russia, which occupied the same position of public enemy #1 that its successor state does today.  And lest the wokeratti immediately jump to its aforementioned go-to, the scene was far more substantively diverse than what you might find at a theater or a gallery today.  They were gay and straight, old and young, black and white and brown, and in a major departure from the current moment, both penniless and well to do.  There were artists living rent free in the loft above the theater, others renting $250 apartments in pre-hipster Williamsburg who had to walk across the bridge to get to rehearsals for lack of train fare, and still others living comfortably on the Upper West Side.  If there was a failing it was in a tendency towards pretentiousness: when a middle-aged woman pronounced confidently at a post-rehearsal dinner that the principal crisis of the modern age was the “post-Nietzschean vacuum,” I almost laughed in her face.  No one had that problem in my native Flushing, and I suspected that was true most places.  But the problem wasn’t racism, sexism, or homophobia-expressing those sorts of views would have been just about the only thing that could have gotten you ejected in an atmosphere where pretty much anything went, and it was that way in the arts community for as long as I was a part of it.

Generally, I like to heavily source everything I write, ‘cause when you’re offering controversial opinions, you had better cross all your t’s and such.  But because the arts are such a distinct subculture and the kinds of institutions that have the means to conduct a wide survey on questions like: what class background do artists usually come from, or, when did artists start to favor censorship, never would, I must of necessity rely on my personal observations and speculations.  Which makes this, by definition, a personal essay, so take it as you will. 

I’m starting from the premise that something has gone very wrong when you have an American arts community that tends to be politically conservative in the sense of being to the right of general sentiment in the Western world on class and economics; that mindlessly supports politicians like Joe Biden and Hillary Clinton who’s records are at odds with even the identitarian issues that they claim to care about, and that sees de-platforming and cancelling figures like Joe Rogan as a legitimate tactic, never considering the idea that once you let that genie out of the bottle, no one will be more vulnerable to having it turned against them than artists.  I’ve given a lot of thought to how a bohemian scene of intellectuals and misfits turned into something resembling a PTA meeting in Scarsdale. This is what I came up with:

I will concede this to the painfully woke white people that dominate the arts even as they lately denounce their own position: rich white people are the crux of the problem, with the emphasis being on “rich” rather than “white,” as some would have it. The low to no pay circumstances of most creatives are beside the point, even though many of them will point to this as evidence of their moral authority to speak on matters of poverty and marginalization. If “artist” isn’t a Professional Managerial Class job, what is it? It sure ain’t factory work. The pretense of artists to social disenfranchisement calls to mind John Goodman’s line in Barton Fink, where his serial killing salesman tells John Turturro’s slumming writer, “You’re just a tourist with a typewriter, Barton. I live here.”

Most of these folks are just playing dress up for a while before they pack it in for Grad School and take up residence in the same sedate suburban enclaves from whence they came. Just as in every other sphere of American society, the arts are, and always have been, dominated by these kinds of middle and upper-middle class, mostly white people, whose sensibilities reflect that reality.  The higher up the food chain you go, the more evident that becomes.  The same exact advantages of money and connections that favor people in every other industry, favor those who attempt a career in the arts.  Perhaps even more so because the standards are so nebulous.  If you’re a doctor, or an attorney, you either do your job well, or you don’t.  If you’re an artist, the quality of your work is subjective which leaves a lot of room for just hooking up the people you relate to, which in the arts is going to mean a lot of rich white people, hooking up other rich white people.  The net effect of that is, if a lot of bad ideas are coming out of the suburbs, that’s going to be reflected in the work.

When the PMC’s were more rooted in the New Deal, with its focus on class and economics, as was the case when I first entered the scene, so were the arts. Now that they’ve turned to neoliberalism in their economics, and the post-modern turn has unmoored their social activism from observable reality, we have an arts community that has nothing to say about the current moment that strays an inch from what you might hear on MSNBC. This is why, as just one example, in a moment of social strife and economic dislocation, the Artistic Director of Connecticut’s Long Wharf Theater recently seized on the idea of a Black Trans Women at the Center festival as the best use of his platform and resources. The company lost their home of 55 years shortly thereafter.

Whereas in the 30’s a good many artists responded to the Depression by adopting a Marxist-Leninist posture and playwrights like Clifford Odets, (the writer being satirized by the Cohens in Barton Fink), and later Arthur Miller and Rod Serling, began writing plays for the first time that placed working class people “at the center,” this generation of artists greets the moment with only contempt for the struggles of working people, seeing them as reactionary Trumpers who sadly lack the education and sophistication to realize that the economy is great, incremental change is the best we can hope for, and getting all bent out of shape about books full of graphic cocksucking in your child’s middle-school library is totally uncool. Rather than to represent the struggles of average people, these artists offer them nothing but derision and when they do bother to acknowledge them, it is only to portray them as wrong-think culture war enemies.

Adding to the problem, poor people who manage to get to college usually don’t decide to major in something that’s going to almost guarantee that they end up poor.  Being an artist is a luxury most people from economically disadvantaged environments just don’t think they can afford.  You’re a lot more likely to choose it if you have a trust fund to fall back on.  So, essentially you end up with a scene dominated by trust fund babies, no matter what identity group they align with.  Their politics proceed from there.  All these artists going on about white privilege is partly a case of, to use a phrase with which any theater aficionado will be familiar, “Methinks thou dost protest too much.” And as with Diversity Equity and Inclusion efforts in other sectors, this results in pretenses at promoting “representation” amounting to nothing more than trying to find more black and brown people from similar backgrounds to the whites that are already there, and who consequently share the same attitudes. Barracks and Michelles are always welcome, but the Hueys and Assatas make these folks deeply uncomfortable. The theater party I walked into last week, was no more racially diverse than the scene I knew in the 80’s (perhaps a bit less), but it was palpably less wide-ranging in class perspectives.

Another reason the censorious Victorian lady in high dudgeon pose that has become the liberal class default setting over the past 10 years or so, has had so much appeal to this group in particular, probably has to do with the psychological afflictions common to artists, combined with the insecurities inherent in the profession.  This is something else I’d love to see a study on: common psychological illnesses in artists, but lacking such a study, I can only tell you what I’ve observed.  Most people don’t choose a career in the arts because they’re very secure, contented and happy sorts.  The level of personal psychological torment that’s driven them to such an irrational career choice varies, but deep neurosis, emotional neediness, and pervasive self-doubt are kind of a base line.  I do not except myself from this analysis: my head is the kind of snake pit that Indiana Jones has nightmares about.  Proceeding from there, you’ll find a fair amount of narcissism, borderline personality disorder, manic-depression, and just plain old depression-depression.  These qualities are not at all ameliorated by constant rejection and criticism, which is kind of the nature of the beast.  In some ways the people who are attracted to the arts are the least capable of enduring its vicissitudes without severe psychological damage.  So, you have a bunch of deeply insecure, neurotic people, trying to make their way in a profession where the rules are vague and the agreed upon standards of successful work are non-existent, and then you hand them a secular religion that gives them not only rules and standards, but a weapon with which to bludgeon their critics as -ists, phobes, and reactionary heathens.  That’s like throwing crackers at a starving man.  Naturally they jumped on it en masse, without ever thinking through the consequences.  Critical Social Justice gave artists something they haven’t had since Duchamp signed a urinal and called it a sculpture: certainty.  And this group is far too ignorant of the past to know why their forbears rejected the kind of formalism that these standards impose, and what the price paid in quality, creativity and individual expression will be in the long run. Insofar as they embrace Duchamp’s lesson, it is only in using the precedent set by his famous prank to avoid being interrogated on the basis of quality, talent and craftsmanship.

Which brings us to my final observation.

I’m going to let you in on a secret, although if you’ve ever been dragged to a “new interpretation” of Hamlet on the Lower East Side, back when we still did that sort of thing, you probably already know: talent is rare.  That’s why we call it talent.  If it was common, we’d call it something else.  I’ll give you a breakdown from something I have a fair amount of expertise in-auditioning actors.  If you audition 100 actors, it’s going to go something like this: about 10% will be so God-awful you have to wonder where they got the encouragement; around 60% will be passable in the way of people who have had a lot of training; 20% will be very good; 8% will be excellent; a final 2% will be exceptional-in other words, talented.  So, based on my admittedly subjective observations, only about 30% of the people who call themselves “artists” have any business pursuing it.  And only 2% of those are really gifted.  So, the scene is, and always has been, mostly populated by hangers-on who are only one 30th Birthday away from packing it in and getting a Masters in Social Work.  The appeal of a set of standards that remove the basis of evaluating work from its quality to its adherence to a set of clearly defined political beliefs is obvious.  If you can’t out-talent people, you can at least out-woke them.

None of this is to say that representation in the arts isn’t a problem or wasn’t a problem until these meddling kids started performing their virtue for likes and clicks.  It’s always been a problem, particularly at the level of management and project leadership, in the arts as in every other sector of society.  I would posit that DEI efforts are a solution in search of a problem, only in that part of the reason for that lack of representation, has always been a lack of artists of color walking in the door, which in turn has to do with the economic realities I’ve mentioned.  There aren’t a lot of poor white people walking in the door either; I’ve owned 5 theaters in NYC across three decades, and I never met another theater owner or director, who grew up on welfare.  In my experience, that lack of representation never had to do with virulent racism in the arts community. It always had to do with class realities and broader issues of structural racism society-wide that stop POC from ever making it to the door to be considered.  If you were paying any kind of attention, that lack of diversity was always an embarrassment, but you can’t work with people who simply aren’t there because of societal problems that reach far beyond the arts.  If we really want to do something about this, we need to go out into impoverished and marginalized communities, provide training and encouragement to young people in particular, then offer them jobs in our theaters and galleries, instead of only looking for POC from similar backgrounds to the people who are already there in order to assuage their white guilt.  Until we see arts institutions doing that, we will know DEI efforts in the arts for what they are: one more example of rich white people protecting the privileges of their class, even if they have to outwardly denounce them in order to do it.

In the end, the arts scene as it exists today and the institutions that support it may have simply become too sclerotic, out of touch, and irrelevant for saving. The future is with activist-artists grown naturally from their communities, using new technologies and platforms to draw attention to concerns and realities that no gatekeeping clique of PMC’s will ever understand or think to explore. As our self-appointed creators of culture have abandoned us, it may be time that we abandon them in turn, leaving their venues to close as they should, leaving their 501c’s to go bankrupt, as they are doing, and taking the space their collapse opens up to create something new of our own.

[saferincages]

Happy 80th Anniversary to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, ever sweet and lovely, its artistry and grace being the groundbreaking first that allowed the legacy of animated film-making which followed it, its importance and beauty lives on to this day. It is a work of art, no matter how many times I see hand-drawn animation referred to as "archaic," those gorgeous watercolor backdrops and the darling, rounded lines of the characters are what elevated animation into its own genre of spectacular film.

I was hoping there would be at least one celebratory article today, but it turns out the tone of all of the ones I perused was incredibly cynical (why are we never allowed pure enjoyment of anything these days?), which made me...sadder than it should have...and I'm not entirely well enough to write something eloquent myself today, but I will say that I respect and cherish the work that Walt Disney, the animators and artists, the voice actors and reference models, all did to bring this work to life. They worked tirelessly, despite being told that the film was folly, was destined to fail, and when they brought it to fruition, it moved and touched audiences so much (audiences who were suffering through a difficult time and desperately needed an escape, and a hopeful one) that there are documented stories about people crying in the theatres near the story's conclusion, and how phenomenal that impact was, that these little *animated* fairytale characters were powerful and touching enough to move viewers to tears.

Snow White has been such a perennial part of my life that I don't actually have the memory of being introduced to her, but I certainly know the stories - humming the music to myself, requesting a Snow White themed third birthday party, being read Snow White storybooks, insisting on carrying my doll of her everywhere. I am surrounded by mementos and reminders of her daily. And the thing I think so many misunderstand, especially today, where we're constantly told that being a Strong Female Character somehow must equate to unrelenting badassery and emotional detachment, is that her power is never in her beauty or her station - if anything, those are obstacles (the Queen's unfounded hatred is based upon those traits) - her strength is in her gentle nature, the kindness she shows to others without hesitation, her loving heart that persists even though she was brought up in a life of loneliness, misery, and abuse (and essentially indentured slavery in her own castle, a trait shared with other oft wrongly maligned heroine Cinderella). She runs away when she's told her stepmother wants to murder her and this is treated as an action of weakness, but I'm not entirely sure how a young girl is supposed to "fight back" against that level of cruelty, and leaving the situation is a liberating step despite the fear that accompanies it. She is giving of herself with the Dwarfs but also doesn't hesitate to put them in their place (or even tease them, see: Grumpy), she's loving towards her animal friends and, Disney magic style, this leads them to help and protect her. Yes, it's a product of its time, 1937 (and why this is consistently held as a detriment is confusing, everything ever made is a reflection of its specific period, social mores absolutely change, usually for the better, and feminism has come a long way, but holding something made eighty years ago up to today's standards is a false equivalency?). Yes, the Prince does indeed rescue her in the end, because that's a fundamental element of the story's structure. I've never believed she should be dismissed for these things, but she usually is. The rhetoric that we can't possibly look at her as inspirational in any way is such a narrow point of view.

As a little girl who was shy and quiet, with a wavering voice and a soft disposition, Snow White was always a comfort. I felt akin to Belle in many ways too, her delving into books as a source of joy and respite, her "oddness" in her community (and Belle is considered a much more "acceptable" heroine to love), but certain aspects of Belle were much more aspirational for me, whereas Snow White was inspirational. I might not ever be as fierce and brave as Belle, though I could aspire towards her, but I knew I could be as kind and loving as Snow White, and so she was inspiring to my heart, my spirit, my perspective.

(I just had this aspirational/inspirational discussion with a dear friend in regards to Leia Organa and Padme Amidala, and that's a bit of a digression here, but the dichotomy is fresh in my mind and the mirroring contrasts are the same - I love both of those girls with all my heart, and they were both formative, though Leia was introduced to my life much earlier and I was a bit older when Padme came along - Leia is still held up as a symbol of empowerment, whereas Padme is so consistently derided she's almost ignored completely outside of certain parts of the SW fandom. Why is this? Yes, Leia is a leader and a fighter and an all-around awesome lady, but...Padme is a leader and a fighter too, deeply devoted to her people, fiery of spirit when she needs to be, unfailingly compassionate. The key difference is the way they're defined by their femininity. I read an article defending her the other day, and while I didn't agree with everything about the male author's perspective, he did say this: "Femininity, maternalism, affection and gentleness are traits to cherish and celebrate in our world and needn’t result in negative scoring on the chart of aspirational female figures." ANYWAY talking about Padme is an entirely different essay, but this point is relevant here).

I do not expect other women in this world to be overtly feminine or to embrace femininity, it's absolutely valid not to do so. The thing that exhausts me is that the knee-jerk opposite reaction now is that if one does embrace it, is very feminine in presentation or relation to the world, is sensitive and emotional, you are automatically less worthwhile. You are not a feminist. You are failing as a woman. It's hurt me for so long because it makes me feel like I don't have a voice, or that the ideas and feelings I do have aren't valuable, that I can't be welcomed in feminist conversations even though I agree with every stride forward, every fight for rights and equality. There's such a silencing element to it, even though that's contrary to everything feminism teaches.

So, yes, I am soft and delicate in nature, and not particularly confident, and girly and dreamy and silly, and quiet and strange in the shut away necessity life has caused me, and prone to empathetic tears, and I adore pretty songs and romance and cute animals and the hope in the end of the fairytale. Yes, I believe even the smallest acts of compassion and kindness can affect a life. Maybe those actions can't change or revolutionize the world, but there's a quote from the Talmud: "And whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world." So maybe with those smallest of acts, there is always a sliver of salvation. Yes, I believe in love in all its forms, and that it is transcendent, that love is a light. (You know who else reinforced that this year? Wonder Woman, undoubtedly one of the "strongest" fictional women of all.) Yes, I believe there's a way to keep hold of empathy and mercy even when we've faced cruelty from others and the coldness of the world. Snow White was my first fictional friend and teacher in these things, and despite everything that's said about her (which I've had to combat all this time), despite the 1937 aspects of the outlook, I continue to carry her in my heart. I'm not ashamed to be like her. I continue to have faith that being caring and warm is not in vain.

Remember, you're the one who can fill the world with sunshine.

[hualian-blessing]

why mcyttwt does not think some (if not most) of the time when it comes to mcc

if i post this in twitter, i’d surely get hated upon but someones gotta have to say this one day. also this does not target to mcytblr!!! this rant is more of towards mcyttwt!!!

remember how mcyt was so chill before all of this shit? how we would watch our favorite minecraters when the community was so small? or how mcc was an event that both ccs and fans can have some fun and entertainment once per month? and that was only last year too. now look at the new generation of mcyt fans and see why some of the old fans dont really associate the new ones.

as a fan of the old gen mcytbers like DanTDM, SkyDoesMinecraft, Aphmau and CaptainSparklez. heck im a fan of pewds’ minecraft series before dream or tommy or ranboo or the new gen of mcyt ccs blew up (a year before them if im correct), and we dont see drama or bad shit all the time when it comes to their content.

now compare that to the new gen where every single fucking day, a bored fan or anti would post shit drama in twitter where some of the people from twitter moved to tumblr just to not get a headache from the batshit craziness mcyttwt brought forth. and it just snapped more when the mccp21 rolled in.

heres some of my takes about the mccp21 issue:

1) “there’s a lack of representation of lgbtq+ in the teams!!!”

heres something to tell yall about that. scott doesnt have a fucking choice. scott smajor has told time and time again, WEEKS before the announcement of teams, that there are certain requirements and limitations to mccp21 thus there will be difficulty in choosing whos entering or whos not. limitations and requirements such as it will be streamed on youtube or how streamers with twitch contracts aren’t allowed to stream or (god bless scott’s good heart) scott not allowing some of the lgbtq+ streamers in joining the special event due to wanting them to have a chance to stream and experience their first mcc (so to those who said that ranboo should have been in mccp21, shut up ‘cuz scott wanted genderman to have fun streaming his first mcc but cant due to ranboo being a well-known twitch streamer). to those who complained that ant and velvet should be in the mcc, stop being selfish and do some actual research on why scott didn’t include them. a simple question to those two’s fans would answer that they can’t make it due to them camping for a week which within those days is the mccp21. they’re having time to themselves, not wasting it on a minecraft championship. 

take in the consideration that, oh i dont know, not a lot of lgbtq+ ccs applied to the event? its not a free invite championship (in fact, mcc has always been like that), it’s an applied with the sufficient and correct requirements kind of event. the artist who created the icons from the previous mcc for the teams said that scott let in some of the new ccs in last minutes due to lack of applicants not meeting the requirements thus not having custom artworks for the teams if they want to announce the teams in time.

2.) “there’s no lesbians or trans in the teams >:(((”

sadly enough, there’s not much of the players from the lgbtq+ community but to say there’s no trans people in mccp21 is utterly false. by definition, trans mean  denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex. other genders such as non-binary, genderfluid, androgyne, bigender, gender expansive all fall under trans. you define yourself with the gender you personally chose and comfy with from you birth gender. so saying there’s no trans in the teams when there are players from the event like eret or sqaishey who are nb and genderfluid respectively are there to also represent not only the sexuality but also the gender identity of others??? like c’mon, please make sense mcyttwt. 

also, while its sad to not see lesbians, please know that lgbtq+ doesn’t strictly be defined by lesbians. ffs, lgbtq+ literally means Lesbians Gays Bisexuals Transgenders and Questioning (or Queer but im not too sure about that one) which means that there are still other representatives for the community in the event.

3) “technoblade is in the event?!!! WHAT THE FUCK, HES A HOMOPHOBE/LESBIPHOBE-”

utter clowns, toxic twitter users are. do you really think that scott smajor, an openly gay man, would let a supposed “homophobe/lesbiphobe” in an event that focuses in supporting the lgbtq+ community? do you hear yourself? do you even do research where the joke he made was when he was the same age as me and it was based on a historical article back in WW2? or how he passionately supports the community especially the lesbians because a lesbian couple complimented him to which kickstart his confidence? the man willingly went to this mcc event despite being flamed a lot in twitter because he (and everyone) knows that his chat, his fans and supporters, are literal millionaires. if you saw a stream from foolish where he auctioned canonical characters for funs, a techno fan donated thousand of dollars to get technoblade, and that’s only one fan, now imagine a hundreds of thousands of them.

like it or not, technoblade has always been open about his support to the community, especially that majority of his fanbase are from the same community that mcyttwt allegedly swore that technoblade hates.

4) “since this mccp21 is pointless because theres no dteam, quackity, punz or (insert cc name), let’s have a watch party of the previous mccs to spite mccp21!!!” “let’s hope (insert cc name) stream on the 26th so mccp21 doesnt have the same amount of viewership like before!!!” “where are (insert cc name)??? gosh, this mcc is so boring without them!!!”

shut up shut up shut up shut up shut the actual fuck up. are you really seriously hearing yourself? are you willing and proudly boycotting a once in a year special event that is seriously needed by the lgbtq+ community? are you that cruel and selfish to sacrifice a project that helped tons of people just for your sick entertainment and desires? are you that evil to stop others from enjoying and donating to the trevor project? are you that inconsiderate of other ccs that aren’t part of dsmp and calling them boring? and for what? because your favorite cishet streamer isn’t there? oh booofuckinghoo! you’re so fucking petty to even post about this kind of tweets in public.

(edit: did yall honestly thought that without your favorite streamers that the mcc is not worth watching because they aren't there? well let me tell you, im a ranboo fan. ive watched him when he first entered the dsmp and watched him spinning in his unicorn chair for 5 minutes. the boo community waited for so many months for genderman to join mcc yet we didn't even do that kind of disgusting action and behavior every time he isn't in mcc. 8 months. that's how long ive watched him. ive waited 8 months for him to be in the event yet i still watch other povs like tommy's, puffy's, wilbur's, and etc., because it's fun and entertaining to watch them despite the beloved not participating in the games.

if you're that spoiled to not even watch mcc because (insert cc whose not part of mccp21 name here) isn't part of the roster then you most likely have a one dimensional humor because there will always be someone more funny and entertaining than them. i like dsmp don't get me wrong, but i found parrot's school smp funnier than dsmp yet you don't see me insulting both series, do you? learn to keep yourself if you're calling ccs as boring or dull or not entertaining enough due to not having the same big platform as the dsmp members.)

you don’t deserve to call yourself a fan if you’re doing this kinds of actions. in fact, people like you should be kicked out from the mcyt community because your kind of people are the reason why we look so bad from the outside. your toxic and self-entitled to these content creators are the reason why famous ccs like sbi, purpled, tubbo and almost ranboo left twitter/implied strict rules to their subtwts. you drove out an entire friend group that tons of fans found comfort in from the platform and you still have the audacity to this kind of shit? honestly, just leave before you give me a headache.

what im sayin’ is that mcyttwt is one of the worst, if not THE worst, subtwts out of the other subtwts in twitter. having no actual research or evidences or spreading false information is common in twitter where you would have to take what they said with a micro size grain of salt. mcyttwt already ruined the fun and spirit of mcc during its comeback in mcc14 due to the glitch and beta testing shit (ey i still stand for the ranboo beta testing but i know that will be worthless since theres hints of him joining soon in mcc15). if you’re still in mcyttwt, i suggest to get out of there while you still can. we’ll never know if there’s a bigger shitstorm than this in the mcyttwt that may happen in the future.

edit! hi bella again, ive been told by a polite and cool user that not all people from mcyttwt are toxic and/or cruel. im going to clear something up here. ive written this during the heat of the announcement of mccp21 teams. so there's a lot of complains and/or entitled people in the app (you can even see it in my previous post too if you want evidences!) that gave off mostly negative vibes towards the event.

ive seen the cool ones who actually took the consideration for scott's side and the criticism of the lack of representation of other communities within the lgbtq+ umbrella (ive even share some parts of it above so im also a bit upset to the lack of numbers in the community). and some of them are correct about recruiting lgbtq+ creators in youtube but! like i said, it's an applied event and not invitational one, so its up to that content creator if they want to join or not. the amount of cishet in the roster are just those who want to support the cause and/or backups/stand-ins in case scott and noxcrew can't find enough ccs in time!

just wanna clear this up because mcyttwt these days are covered by really cringe fans (ive noticed a pattern of them mostly new ones but there are still awesome new fans (like my irl friend who just joined this year) within the community) that covered the good ones where they enjoy, have fun and share some neat ideas and thoughts to the community within the platform!

when i said to get out of the mcyttwt while you still can, i meant to get out of there to avoid drama (that is really small contrast those who really need to address the issue) and take a break from it. it's still your choice if you want to be surround by it or not or if you want to come back to the app. all im saying is to buckle up for the shitstorm cuz this is not the last time that the twitter side of mcyt will cause negativity to the community.

[billiejeanenthusiast]

Boobiegate masterpost

We know what they did this summer - and oh boy, was a it a wild summer that - unfortunately for us - stretched into autumn and beyond any reason.

I will first go over everything as it happened and then - because when you look back at everything you realise some timelines overlap - I’ll try to clarify some stuff and put it into perspective.

NOTE: I’m writing the dates from a GMT time zone point of view (aka. UK time)

So let’s start from the beginning. 

Briana breaks up with Brody Jenner after dating him for some random attention seeking period. (June-September roughly)

Here’s an article talking about that irrelevant relationship. https://www.yourtango.com/2020334835/who-brody-jenner-girlfriend-briana-jungwirth-louis-tomlinson-baby-mama Now let’s fast forward a bit to September. 

September 23rd

So on September 23rd we’re flooded with articles about Brody and Bri breaking up and Bri getting back together with her “on-again off-again (boy)friend Nick” and the biggest surprise “BRI IS ENGAGED”

So the story is: 

Bri ended her relationship with Brody because “they were moving too fast” and he had “already met Freddie” 

She then gets back together with her on-again, off-again bf Nick Gordon 

She, her family, and Nick go on a “whirlwind” trip to Las Vegas (MIND YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF A PANDEMIC) 

Bri and Nick get engaged during those Covid inviting few days in Vegas (September 21st- September 23rd) 

Articles drop about how they’re engaged and she’s broken up with Brody (Sept 23rd) 

Bri, family and Nick all share a huge amount of Vegas pictures of them in love, Bri’s ring, Bri and Nick being a couple (pictures obviously taken before Vegas to hopefully make someone believe that this in no way is a whirlwind engagement after just knowing each other a few weeks. Did they convince anyone? Well if you are convinced - I’m worried for you) 

Here’s the tmz article:https://www.tmz.com/2020/09/23/brody-jenner-split-briana-jungwirth-engaged/ Here’s some pics of them we were all subjected to while they were in Vegas. And Nick’s new public profile when it just got made. Was he trying to start an influencer career and say goodbye to being a firefighter? Was he trying to get a night job taking off that all firefighter gear for money? Magic mike was a big movie after all….Who knows.

September 28th

At first the engagement pictures on Nick’s IG were just him and Briana and he used the #/shesaidyes. After a few days and probably after they realised it would be a smart move to acknowledge her kid she claims to have too (👀) he deleted those and on September 28th posted new pictures with a new caption and new # of course. This time “theysaidyes”.

The pictures are below.

But, moving on.

As soon as the engagement news drops, we have Nick - our “good-guy firefighter” making a new and public IG account, flooding it with pictures where he professes his love for Bri and soaking up the d-list association fame.

So in the coming weeks we get a lot of Nick, Bri and their families on IG. They post a lot about being constantly together.

What was the most interesting they really pushed the “dad” image on Nick. He was constantly posting about Freddie and even in Bs or Tammi’s stories he was always seen interacting with F the most.

Then after it seemed like the new fiancees had settle into their soon-to-be married life and everything seemed rosy for them - we get hit with the whammy BOOBIEGATE.

Because hell hath no fury like a sugar daddy scorned.

October 15th

On the 15th of October celebtm a gossip site, posts the next picture and caption on IG:

Basically, they’re saying a guy - his name unknown yet - contacted them to tell them how Briana scammed him out of money she borrowed to get a boob job. Specifically 5k USD. He claims he filed the case in court and it’s dated January.

They ask if anyone else has similar receipts or anything about her and that they’re investigating and will be writing a story. And the comments have a lot to say about Bri.

October 19th

4 days later on October 19th celebtm posts another IG update about how they have the court filing and how their article is in progress.

October 21st

2 days after the last IG post celebtm finally posts their article - on the 21st of October

https://celebmagazine.com/louis-tomlinson-briana-jungwirth-sued-over-boob-job/

(It’s on the web still - if it ever gets deleted let me know I have screen recordings of it)

The article is accompanied by this (below) IG post:

Also on this day we get Briana and Nick deactivating their IG profiles. Nick still kept his personal private IG and the only person who stayed public is Tammi.

October 22nd

A day after the article dropped there’s another IG post with the following picture and caption. Apparently, Sugar Daddy shared his receipts - specifically AmEx - with celebtm.

October 26th

On October 26th celebtm posts the second part of the article. It’s messier, with a more confusing timeline than the first, but tries to “spill” more details on Sugar Daddies relationship with Briana and her life in general.

Also by now we know his name - Michael Strauss. An investor in Warwick club in LA.

https://celebmagazine.com/louis-tomlinson-baby-mama-briana-jungwirth-double-life/

(Again this is the link - if the article gets taken down and you want to see it - DM me)

October 27th

Then a day later we get another IG post - no new article - just more excerpts from what the Sugar Daddy told celebtm.

Then it’s quiet for a few days and when you think this can’t get even more trashy - low and behold the circus that is called October 29th.

October 29th

So after a few days of silence celebtm strikes again, but this time they bring in TV’s most loved judge - Judge Judy. Apparently the TV show was willing to take this litigation and air it as an episode.

As always, they post an IG post and a caption, and the article mentioned in the IG caption below is basically an article written for clicks about Louis and Harry because they saw the larrie part of the fandom was getting them clicks. I’ll leave the link to the article here for documentation purposes, but honestly there’s nothing in there worth giving them clicks for. Not a thing. The title of the article is “A Complete Guide to 1D Members Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles’ Rumoured Relationship”

Article: https://celebmagazine.com/louis-tomlinson-harry-styles-relationship/

November 6th

We see the sudden return from social media exile of Bri to IG. She’s back - with a post and the description ironically saying “I’m back”. I refuse to post it because does anyone really want to look at her face-tuned selfies? 

November 9th

Then after weeks of radio silence, the return of Bri to IG, we get what is apparently the - very underwhelming - like Bri’s boobs to Sugar Daddy who never got to see them - conclusion to this Sugar Daddy drama. This following article which is basically a letter from Michael to Briana telling her how he’s giving up on the lawsuit, taking this as a life lesson and how he hopes no one else falls for her scams. Article below:

https://celebmagazine.com/michael-straus-briana-jungwirth-open-letter-to-one-direction-louis-tomlinson-alleged-baby-mama/

(Again this is the link - if the article gets taken down and you want to see it - DM me)

And of course - the article is accompanied by an IG post by celebtm.

So, here we currently are. After watching that circus show no one wanted not paid for (well except the Sugar Daddy, and he didn’t even get to see the thing he paid for - so sad.) we’re in November and the Jungwirths and company are back to their carefree posting on IG. 

Current status:

The lawsuit seems to have been dropped. 

Everything seems to be in process of being swept under the rug.

Nick - the loving fiancee - is back to IG too. All of his happy, loving pictures with Bri still up (some deleted) - so we must assume their love survived Boobiegate.

As for overlapping timelines:

The timelines overlap mostly during the months March-October with it being said Bri dated Brody, but was also taking money from Boobie Daddy who was helping her during the pandemic, and was later also apparently starting a serious relationship with Nick.

What actually went on - I don’t know. And I’m honestly not interested to find out. This is being mentioned just so anyone coming across this post knows that yes - you didn’t read it wrong - the timelines do overlap with different people saying different things and Bri being tied to all three men at those times without any real clear timeline for the relationships.

So far this is all there is to this mess. If there’s more - I’ll do a part two or addition.

I’d like to end this with saying - these masterposts are 95% just me making them for myself because I forget stuff, and so much goes on in the fandom that if I want to keep up with it all, I need a nice timeline for things. I’m posting this for anyone wanting to make sense of this circus too or just to put it into a timeline. I did fact check all the dates, posts, IG pics, links and so on - but mistakes can happen - if there is one feel free to let me know.

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | epilogue

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue

word count: 4.4k

description: it’s been five years since the Miroh Heights murder cases came to a close — and five long, bittersweet years since you’d caught a glimpse of Han Jisung. Things in Miroh Heights have changed drastically since then — but when Felix sets you up on another blind date in an attempt to help you move on from the past, you realise that, once again, you’ve signed up for much more than you bargained for.

masterlist

recommended listening: stray kids - “sunshine”

epilogue.

“See ya, Miss l/n!”

You turned to wave back at the little girl who had called your name, her round eyes visibly bright from the waiting room of your clinic. Seven years old, front teeth just beginning to come in. One of her hands clutched a half-unwrapped lollipop as her mother held onto the other. 

The first time you had seen them, the child had been unwilling to speak — bullied relentlessly at school, her mother had informed you through a veil of desperate tears — but now, her laughter filled the warm air, traumas that had once been etched into a too-young face already beginning to heal and fade.

Evening sunshine warmed your cheeks the moment you stepped out of the building’s doors, a light breeze rustling the papers in your hand as you quickly tucked them into your bag. “Five years of graduate school hasn’t made you more organised,” Felix often teased you, and you would smack his shoulder in retaliation.

Five years hadn’t changed your friendship in the slightest, either—and you had to admit you were beyond grateful for that.

As always, the city around you was humming with life: evening rush hour, with people darting here and there, frantically flagging down taxis and catching their buses. Usually, on days like these, you should have been hopping into the first cab home and collapsing like a corpse as soon as you reached your apartment. But today, you remembered with a sigh, was not going to be one of those days. 

“Hey, Doctor l/n!”

You whipped your head towards the voice, a smile spreading across your tired features as you saw who it belonged to. In a slightly jaded Mini Cooper—second hand, of course, but worked just like new — Yang Jeongin waved at you from the driver’s seat.  

“I’m not a doctor, ‘innie,” you reminded him playfully as he unlocked the passenger door and let you climb in.

“Not a doctor yet,” he corrected you, grinning. “Besides, ‘child therapist’ doesn’t have as much of a ring to it.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing, and waved at another one of your patients as Jeongin started the engine. “You really didn’t have to offer to drive me, you know — the streets are a nightmare during this hour.”

“It’s not that far,” Jeongin protested, “Plus, I barely get to see you now, you’re so busy.” You didn’t have the heart to argue. The kid loved being behind the wheel so much, he made it seem like you were doing him a favour.

You watched Jeongin turn onto the main road, squeezing the car in between a van and a motorcyclist. He really had grown up over the last few years — his hair was darker now, remarkably sharp cheekbones overtaking his once-rounded cherub cheeks — but in some ways, nothing had changed at all. He still had that natural knack of brightening whatever room he stepped in — the Yang Jeongin effect, Hyunjin called it. And his heart was still too big for his own good: you remembered how he had adamantly refused to take the money Jisung kept offering him after the case had finally closed, and when Hyunjin had asked him why, Jeongin had simply replied, “After everything that’s happened, it doesn’t feel like he’s the one who owes me.”

On the other hand, Jeongin had been more than happy to take Prosecutor Kang’s compensation money instead, and had finally visited a car dealership with you and Hyunjin. 

The moment he had seen the Mini-Cooper — a beat-up thing from the 90s that you were amazed was still running — the younger boy’s eyes had lit up. “It’s just...it looks like the one our family used to have, before...the incident,” he had explained sheepishly, making you and Hyunjin exchange a look. And so, after a fiery back-and-forth between you and the salesman—not to mention a few sleepless nights at the mechanic’s — the rest was history.

The light turned green, and you spotted a photograph wobbling on the dashboard — a laughing child you recognised immediately as Jeongin. Behind him, a woman with a familiar wide smile had her arms around a man with eyes resembling a fox’s, with none of the slyness. “How’s your dad these days?”

“Mostly stays at home taking care of my mum, but he swears he wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jeongin turned his head to you excitedly, as if a thought just hit him. “She got out of bed a couple days ago, you know? The first time ever since my dad left.”

Your mouth fell open in a surprised smile, and Jeongin continued, “He’s real excited he got to teach me how to drive, too. I think he feels like he missed out on a lot of things, like...walking me home from school. Teaching me how to ride a bike. Graduation.” He shrugged. His words might have sounded sad at first, but you could see the way the lines of Jeongin’s face were more relaxed now, at peace. 

“Mind if I make a quick stop?” Jeongin asked abruptly, and you checked your watch before shaking your head lightly.

“I’m still about twenty minutes early. We’ve got plenty of time.”

He turned onto a familiar street, and you rolled down the window as Glow Cafe slowly came into view. It was just as busy as it had ever been — even the cars were stalling by the curb — but Hwang Hyunjin spotted you almost immediately, waving through the glass window. Quickly hopping out, Jeongin popped the trunk open, and you watched him haul two crates of coffee beans into the bustling cafe. The once-famed “delivery boy” of Miroh Heights only really did deliveries for Glow Cafe now, after Hyunjin had offered Jeongin a position as a barista until he graduated—and although he wasn’t the best with his hands (or his memory, for that matter), Hyunjin didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Him being here is more than enough for business. You should see the students flock in here every morning just to catch a glimpse of him.” The former barista snorted. “What’d I tell you? They’re eating him right up.”

They waved at Jeongin now as he jogged obliviously out of the cafe, Hyunjin’s laughs muted by the glass as he threw you a knowing wink. He had graduated himself, two years ago, officially inheriting the business after his grandmother had passed away. Glow Cafe had since come a long way, with Hyunjin always at the forefront of new design ideas and enthusiastically telling you about his plans to expand even more in the future.           

“Get this: ‘CEO Hwang, the most eligible bachelor of Miroh Heights,’” Felix held up his hands as if picturing a giant headline, giving his signature wolf whistle as you burst into laughter and Hyunjin kicked the blond man in the shin. “Ow!”

“How did you even get into the press with those cheesy titles?” Hyunjin  groaned.

“Not just ‘get into the press’, ‘jinnie,” you reminded him, giggling, “he’s the head journalist now!”

It was true—with his impeccable wit and seamless way with words, it came to nobody’s surprise when Felix maneuvered his way to the top of the local press in a matter of years. The head of the press still loathed him with a biting passion— “I can feel her glares all the way from her office,” Felix retorted — and rumour had it that the two seemed to fire shots at each other all day long. The image of a powder-faced, middle-aged woman bickering with your notoriously insufferable best friend made you laugh, but you also knew deep down that Felix always took his job more seriously than he let on. His eloquent articles had gotten his name out across the city in no time,  and so you took comfort in knowing that — no matter how hard the head of the press bared her teeth—nobody could touch Lee Felix now. 

Five years, you thought to yourself wistfully, eyes catching a familiar detective’s office as Jeongin drove past. What a trip down memory lane. You’d seldom come by this part of town since then, and seeing the familiar buildings sent a flood of memories and mixed feelings stirring in your chest. 

The well-loved Detective Bang, much to the disappointment of adoring students and professors alike, had moved abroad to a bigger city—whether he had been taken by a new precinct, or a new big case, you couldn’t be sure. “Rumour has it he’s doing undercover work now,” Seungmin had mentioned to you once in passing, “We haven’t heard from him in a while, but he’s making a big name for himself out there, that’s for sure.”

The District Nine police station whizzed by you in a blur, and more of the prosecutor’s words rang through your head.

“Meanwhile, the chief of police keeps insisting he’s glad to be rid of him, but we all know he secretly misses Chan.” Seungmin had shaken his head, and you had smiled at the image of the stoic police captain—chief, now—grudgingly sulking over the loss of his best friend.   

Jeongin made one last turn, and the narrow buildings opened up into the heart of Miroh Heights—the oldest part of town, where the roller rink, record shop, and the diner were. The sight of Mia’s Diner made you sink down instinctively in the passenger seat, and you couldn’t keep the raw dread out of your voice as you let out a long sigh. 

Jeongin gave you sympathetic look. “For someone who’s going on a blind date, you don’t sound too happy.”

“That’s because I’m not, Jeongin. I don’t even know why Felix keeps insisting on these. The last time I agreed to one was—” you broke off before you could finish what you were saying, the unspoken words echoing in your mind. The last time I agreed to one was when I met Jisung.

That’s right—the last official blind date you had been on, you had met Han Jisung — and he had turned your entire world upside down. For years afterwards, you had told yourself that you wouldn’t take that day back for the entire world, but now...now, you weren’t so sure.

After all, how could you be sure of someone you hadn’t heard from in over five years?

The rehabilitation centre didn’t allow letters in or out— you had learned that the hard way after your first letters had been sent directly back to your doorstep. Usually, they had told you, if things went well, patients could start correspondence again after a year or so—but you had gotten absolutely nothing. Not a single word. 

Five years—he should have been out by now. He could have been anywhere, doing anything—but he certainly hadn’t remembered to write or even call you. 

Had he really forgotten about you?

“Five years is a long time, y/n,” Felix told you gently, after you had adamantly refused the blind date he kept insisting on. “People...change, and maybe he’s—moved on.”

Moved on. 

You didn’t know how to tell Felix how much the thought of that hurt more than you were willing to admit, how this was the sole reason why you hadn’t been able to go on a single date for the past five years. You didn’t know how to tell him that Jisung hadn’t left your mind since the moment he had disappeared from your sight, five years ago, in the corridor of that courthouse. 

“I’ll be waiting,” Jisung had said.  And yet he was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, Felix wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“You’re in your mid-twenties now, y/n. Loosen up a little, yeah? You’re allowed to go on dates, for goodness’ sake.”

“I’m hopeless, ‘lix. I’m pretty sure the stray dog on the street has a more interesting love life than me.”

“Maybe,” Felix mused, “I think I saw it running around with a litter of puppies the other da—ow!”

“You okay? You look kind of sick,” Jeongin remarked, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Got everything you need?”

You resisted the urge to laugh. If only Jeongin knew how you had prepared for this date—by mapping out all the ways you were going to end it as quickly as possible. Faking food poisoning? Check. Arrange a time for a friend to call you and pretend an emergency came up? Check— although Hyunjin had had a strange glint in his eyes when he had agreed to it. Worst comes to worst? Pepper spray, check. You let out a slow exhale. “Sure. All set.”

You thanked Jeongin with a hug and hopped out of the car. Just as you began walking towards the diner, you heard him call out behind you.

“Oh, yeah, Felix told me pass on a message — from him to you.” You turned back, and Jeongin gave a boyish grin that was half apologetic, half laughing. “‘Go get ‘em, tiger!’”

You gave an exasperated cry and yanked open the diner door.

━━━━━━━━

You were beginning to wonder if you’d been stood up.

Mia’s Diner was usually busy, bustling with students and townspeople alike, and tonight it truly was: booths packed with couples both old and new, laughter and the smell of food wafting through the warm air as friends and families celebrated the start of summer. The jukebox was on and playing an old disco song you liked but didn’t know the name of, the checkered floor tiles clicking with the sounds of brisk waitresses’ heels and dancing feet.

You didn’t know why Felix had insisted on coming here, of all places, what with the mixed emotions and memories you had tied to it, but you had to admit that the jovial atmosphere of Mia’s Diner on a Friday night never really disappointed. You found yourself relaxing slightly—just slightly, bobbing your head lightly to the music.

“Mia’s Diner?” You repeated incredulously. “Seriously, Felix, do you only know one date location? For the so-called ‘Matchmaker of Miroh Heights’, you’re sure lacking in the variety department.”

“Easy, tiger. Just trust me on this one, okay? You’re gonna owe me one.”

“I’m not—” you began indignantly, but Felix continued.

“Plus, the poor guy in question hasn’t been on a date in years, either. You both need this.”

“Years? Are you setting me up with a hermit?” 

“Oh, yeah. A big-time loser, seriously— but don’t tell him I said that. Just — indulge him a bit, okay, y/n? I promise you won’t regret it.”

And so, for the second time, Felix’s schemes and pleading puppy eyes had gotten you here—sitting at an empty booth, waiting for a blind date. He hadn’t even bothered to show you a picture of the man in question. You couldn’t help the smile from slowly slipping from your face as each minute passed, and you nibbled your lip anxiously.

Your date was thirty minutes late.

You peered out the window, at the lights of the town glowing a faint neon  against the clear evening skies. Each time a car filled in a parking space, you sat up, craning your neck to see if it was him—before slumping back down in disappointment. Five years, you thought to yourself glumly. Five years, and you still had no luck with dates. Maybe you just had no luck with love, you thought dryly. You imagined Felix laughing later when you told him about it and sighed, a twinge of worry replacing the dread in your gut.

Had something gone wrong?

After turning the waitress away for the eighth time, you fished out your phone from your pocket, tapping on the foreign number Felix had given you. Zero new messages, zero missed calls. At least I can tell Felix I tried, you thought glumly. Maybe I should just call Jeongin again, and ask him to pick me up. And then you could drop by Glow Cafe for a bit, before trudging back to your apartment like a fallen soldier.

Just as you were punching in Jeongin’s name, feeling a sense of guilty relief wash over you, you vaguely registered the diner door swinging open beneath the lively music, and a pair of footsteps trying to shuffle past the dancing couples.

For a split second, you thought you saw a pair of tattered black Converse—laces untied, soles worn—but the mirage disappeared, and was replaced by a pair of dress shoes that eventually came to a stop at your booth. You sighed, fighting back the tears that had suddenly threatened to well in your eyes. Shit. This is not the time to be thinking about him. Why were you still thinking about him? And why on earth had you agreed to this? 

You lifted your gaze, trying to muster up a smile, hoping your disappointment didn’t show on your face— 

And immediately froze.

“Hello.”

Standing before you, looking almost like an apparition — a golden silhouette against the backdrop of the dim diner — was Han Jisung.

You had to blink several times to realise you weren’t hallucinating again. He looked...different, and yet in some ways, he looked entirely the same: his hair was shorter, but tousled as it had always been, cheeks flushed and breathless as if—as if he’d been running through a storm.

You felt your body moving before any intelligible thoughts could form in your head, pulling you forwards like a magnet until you were standing face-to-face, your shaky eyes darting across his features, not daring to believe what you were seeing.

All of a sudden, the glint in Hyunjin and Jeongin’s eyes made sense, Felix’s words replaying in your head as overwhelmed tears began welling in your eyes without warning.

“The poor guy in question hasn’t been on a date in years, either.”

“A big-time loser, seriously — but don’t tell him I said that. Just — indulge him a bit, okay, y/n? I promise you won’t regret it.”  

“Y-you—are such a dork,” you stammered out, one hand weakly hitting Jisung’s chest as you felt the tears finally spill down your face. “Han Jisung, you are such a d—” 

Your words were cut off when Jisung pulled you into his arms, his head falling to rest in the crook of your neck. Your shoulders shook with muffled sobs as you buried your face in his chest, memorising everything about this feeling, not wanting to take a single second for granted, memorising everything about him. Jisung no longer carried with him that scent of gasoline and fire — instead, he smelled faintly of lemongrass, and a hint of warm, fresh laundry.

“I missed you,” you finally whispered hoarsely, “I just—missed you, so much.”

He chuckled in your ear, the low, familiar hum stirring faint, faraway memories in your head, and you gripped onto his shirt harder, as if he would disappear completely if you didn’t hold on tight enough.

Jisung had found you in the crowded diner before you had seen him — just like the first time he had met you. And just like the first time, he had felt his breath hitch in his throat, hands hesitating on the door, wondering if he should turn back instead. He had watched you bob your head gently to the music, a small, tentative smile on your face.

You looked good — no, amazing. Different, and yet entirely the same. Kind, worried eyes catching him completely off guard, like the flash of a camera.

Just as bright.

Just as brilliant.

The truth was, there hadn’t been a single day where he hadn’t thought of you — of your voice, your touch, your laugh. Jisung had asked Felix for help the moment he had gotten released, but what he hadn’t forseen was your reaction.

“She won’t go on a blind date, mate,” Felix had informed him exasperatedly, “Took weeks of convincing. Good news, though — she finally caved. You sneaky, hopeless romantic bastard.”

She might have forgotten me, Jisung had thought. And even if you hadn’t, you might not even welcome the sight of him—after all, he hadn’t been in touch since he had left, all those years ago. But in the end, the inexplicable pull in his chest had grown unbearable, and he found himself walking towards you, wading through the crowd, feeling the ache in his heart softening with each step he took. All the way back to you.

You pulled away slowly, vision blurry as Jisung lifted a hand to cup your face, never taking eyes off yours. He had grown in the time you had been apart—he was taller, his once-lean frame stronger—and, most of all, there was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured softly, and you laughed in disbelief, “I think you’re my blind date.” 

“How—w-why—”

“I told you I wanted to do this all over again, didn’t I? And I promised that I would try to do it right this time.” Jisung smiled apologetically, wiping your tear stained cheeks with his thumb. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

You shook your head, eyes widening when you saw what he had been carefully clutching in his other hand: a small bouquet of sunflowers, their golden yellow petals as tousled as Jisung’s own blond locks. 

“Apparently they symbolise new beginnings,” Jisung said, pulling a stray petal from your hair and chuckling, “Keeping promises. Eternal happiness. That kind of thing.”

“Why didn’t you write?” You whispered, as Jisung tucked the bouquet into your hands. 

“I wanted to...to heal. In every sense of the word. I didn’t want to show you, until I...knew I was really better. Believe me, I wanted to.” Jisung’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if he were fighting back tears. “I wanted to, so, so badly.”

You shook your head, mumbling something about how much of a stubborn idiot he was, and Jisung’s laugh made a hesitant smile tug at your lips. As if sensing the lightening atmosphere, the waitress had promptly appeared behind Jisung and meekly cleared her throat, setting down the menu. Jisung turned back to look at you, his grin growing playful.

“I hope you’re hungry?”

The diner seemed to come back to you all at once in a flood of senses, the music and murmur of restaurant goers sending a pleasant hum through your veins as you and Jisung sat down. The night went by in a warm blur, Jisung telling you about his life at the institute, the unlikely friends he had made, the dreams he hadn’t realised he had. 

“I’m going to go back to school,” he admitted, one hand rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “I’ll be a bit behind, but...I want to study something I actually like this time.”

You had told him about how you had been working in a child therapy ward ever since you had graduated, about all the children you had met and loved and cared for. As you talked about them, you saw a wistful look in Jisung’s eyes, and a thought crossed your mind. “Have you heard anything from—from Minho?” 

He gave a small smile, but shook his head. “Rarely. It hasn’t been long since he was released, but he said he was planning on going abroad. Doing some travelling. I think...he’ll reach out when he’s ready.” He then added, as an afterthought, “And if he doesn’t, I wouldn’t blame him.”

The sad simplicity of Jisung’s words stirred a strange feeling you couldn’t quite place in your chest, and your mind flashed back to the cold-eyed coroner and his stiff smiles; then, to the raw pain that had cracked through his strained features the last time you had caught a glimpse of him. Maybe you would meet again one day, or maybe that truly would be the last you ever heard of him.

Healing of the mind, you knew, was a strange process—one that always took much longer than you would expect. There were always scars that reopened along the way, old hidden wounds that surfaced right when you least expected them. There would always be answers you might never find, you mused sadly, closure you might never get.

But sometimes, you thought as you listened to Jisung talk, memorizing the feeling of his fingers interlaced with yours, sometimes we can only hope to hold onto what we already have. 

The end of the night drew closer, and when Jisung and you had stepped outside the diner, the city was swimming in the dark ochre of the setting sun. Eventually, the two of you ended up back in the wide garden behind the hospital, your laughs and giddy conversation slowly hushing into softer murmurs. In the distance, the rush of cars on the main road grew sparser, the windows of the buildings around you flickering to life one by one like young stars. Here, though, as you rested your head on Jisung’s shoulder beneath a willow tree, the world seemed to stand still, and all was quiet.

You heard Jisung yelp suddenly and looked down to see a familiar dog pattering around your feet—a stray, with scraggly fur like an overgrown teddy bear that had been through the wash one too many times. It immediately pounced onto Jisung, beginning to lick your boyfriend’s face like no tomorrow.

“Oof! Hey there, old buddy.”

You laughed, scooping the dog off—only after it had gotten a few slobbery licks in—and shivered slightly as a cool night wind swept past you. Noticing, Jisung shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders as you raised a teasing eyebrow at the cliche move.

“It looks good on you,” Jisung insisted, and you laughed incredulously.

“Your jacket?” You asked, ruffling the dog’s ears as it curled up at your feet.

At that, Jisung looked back up at you—seeing the faint outline of your smile in the dark, your eyes sparkling as you looked back at him expectantly, obliviously—and in that moment, Jisung wondered what he had ever done to deserve someone as perfect as you. 

After a beat, he replied, “Happiness. Happy looks good on you, love.”

Your mouth parted in surprise—both at his words, and at the unexpected name—and Jisung took the chance to lean in and kiss you, pressing his soft lips to yours. Gently, at first — carefully, but as you began to kiss him back, you felt Jisung slowly relax. You kissed him the way you had wanted to for so long, feeling the years of distance, of heartache, of endless waiting finally unravel beneath your lips. His hands reached up to gingerly cup your face, pulling you closer into him as if he never intended to let go. 

Happy looks good on you, too, Han Jisung, you wanted to say once you pulled away, forehead still lightly pressed to his. And you deserve it, more than anything. You watched Jisung’s features come back into focus beneath the dim moonlight. His gaze was fixed on yours, filled with nothing but pure adoration, and you felt a sudden surge of warmth coursing through your chest. 

I love you, you wanted to tell him, more than you could ever know — but something in the warm yet playful look in Jisung’s eyes told you that he was already thinking the exact same thing.

So you just smiled, and leaned in to kiss him again.

                                                YOUNG GOD | END

ryu says: to you — yes, you, who has reached the end of this series! this epilogue is my way of saying a big thank you to those who stayed along for the entire wild ride that was young god. thank you for loving the characters, the world of miroh heights, and of course, the story! there are easter eggs and full-circle moments all throughout this epilogue, so i hope you enjoy and have fun finding them all ^^

disclaimer: in my opinion, all epilogues are open to interpretation: i’ve left some characters’ stories untold, some loose ends untied for this exact reason. miroh heights’ story has finally come to a close here, but what happens to the characters from this moment on continues in the reader’s mind now. 

all that cheesy, pretentious stuff aside, i hope to see you in the next story!

[sineala]

The gay Invaders

Hi, internet! Today I'd like to talk about one of the chronologically-first canonically-gay couples in Marvel Comics history: Brian Falsworth (the second Union Jack) and Roger Aubrey (The Destroyer). (I mean "chronological" in terms of in-universe timeline rather than RL publication date; I'm pretty sure Northstar is still the first to publication as far as unambiguously-gay Marvel heroes go.)

If you are a fan of reading or writing about Captain America being queer, you should care about Brian and Roger, because they were two of Steve's fellow Invaders in the 1940s, meaning that they are two of the people on the list of Steve's Old Gay Friends And Teammates, because, yeah, Steve sure had a lot of canonically gay friends during the war. Probably more than you'd think he would have had in the forties! (The other two are Percival Pinkerton, who's part of Nick Fury's Howling Commandos, and of course Steve's childhood friend Arnie Roth. Pinky is gay by word of Stan Lee, IIRC; Arnie was as canonically gay as DeMatteis could make him in the early 1980s, so they didn't say the word "gay" but it's really, really not subtle. Steve compares what Arnie feels for his "roommate" Michael to what Steve feels for his girlfriend Bernie. Yeah.)

I previously made a Tumblr post about Brian and Roger, rounding up some of the canonical evidence of their relationship, but that post is six years old now, and in the intervening years, Marvel has thoughtfully put the rest of the 70s Invaders run on Unlimited as well as the two Citizen V miniseries that star Roger and retcon his relationship with Brian as romantic. So I've read them now, and I've got panels.

Okay. I should probably begin by saying that Brian and Roger are not canonically gay in their first significant appearance together, which is in Invaders vol 1 #19 and #20, published in 1977. Roy Thomas does not seem to have intended them to be a couple, and they aren't canonically one in any of the original Invaders run. However, if you enjoy gay subtext, it's very nice.

This whole arc is the one that introduces Roger in modern canon. He's been brainwashed by the Nazis and the Invaders rescue him and get him back to his normal self. But in #19 we get his backstory in flashback, as related by Montgomery, Lord Falsworth (Brian's father; yes, MCU fans, the name should look familiar) and it turns out that Roger and Brian were basically best friends since childhood:

They were the dearest of friends!

Anyway, they both ended up captured by Nazis, they presumably changed their minds about appeasement as a policy, Brian got out and joined the Invaders, then they had to rescue the brainwashed Roger, and it's a fair amount of fun in a two-issue arc.

The subtext is even more prominent in Invaders #34, in which they find out that someone going by the Destroyer (which is Roger's codename) has been doing villainous deeds, and the Invaders worry that Roger's gotten himself brainwashed again. Brian immediately insists that it can't really be Roger because he knows Roger and Roger Would Never:

Unsurprisingly, Brian is right. It's not really Roger; Master Man is impersonating the Destroyer, and the villains have taken Roger captive, and the Invaders break him out and there is an extremely significant moment where it just so happens that Roger has to catch Brian, saving his life for a change, and they stare deeply into each other's eyes and Brian seems to be having difficulty finishing his sentences:

Some people who read this therefore concluded that Brian and Roger were extremely gay for each other. While ordinarily this sort of shipping is mostly confined to fandom, in this particular instance, one of the people who started shipping Brian/Roger was Fabian Nicieza, and Fabian Nicieza, as you probably know, writes comics for Marvel. I think you see where this is going.

However, first I must inform you that, sadly, Brian has been canonically dead for years. Captain America vol 1 #253-254 -- the two-parter about Baron Blood in the Stern/Byrne Cap run in the 80s -- establishes that Brian died in a car accident in 1953. (This is also the run where Joseph Chapman -- a friend of Jacqueline Falsworth's son Kenneth -- becomes the third (and current) Union Jack.)

(Roger then appears in a bunch of T-Bolts issues; I assume there's nothing interesting there on the gay front because I feel like someone would have told me. I should probably read more than three T-Bolts issues someday.)

So, anyway, in 2001, Fabian Nicieza wrote a miniseries called Citizen V and the V-Battalion. Roger, who is still superheroing as the Destroyer despite being pretty old by this point, is part of the titular V-Battalion, and he has a very prominent role in this miniseries. And in #1, we have the usual splash page of character backstory, and there's a very, um, interesting line there:

Regarding Brian and Roger's relationship, the narration informs us: "It sounds much gayer than it probably was."

This is interesting, obviously for a couple of reasons. One is that, up to this point in canon, as far as I can tell, literally nobody thought any of this sounded the slightest bit gay at all. (Other than, I guess, Fabian Nicieza.) The other reason is that, as we soon find out, it actually was as gay as it sounds. Thanks, Fabian!

In 2002, Nicieza wrote a second miniseries, Citizen V and the V-Battalion: The Everlasting. Issue #1 opens with a flashback set in 1953; specifically, we see Brian's funeral:

Roger is extremely sad, and when Lord Falsworth expresses his sympathy about the death of Roger's "friend" and saying that he knows how much this hurts him, Roger mutters under his breath that he doesn't have the slightest clue:

All is revealed on the next page, when one of the other characters tries to ask Roger about superhero business and Roger snaps at him because, as he says, "I just watched my friend die in my arms."

Except "friend" isn't the word he starts to say:

Yep. That would be "lover." So Roger nearly outs himself. So, yes, now it's absolutely canon. Hooray.

Later on in the issue, which is set in the present day, we have a couple pages of Roger staring at pictures of the two of them and continuing to be sad:

Yeah. They were a couple.

So the question you -- being a Captain America fan -- might ask yourself is, okay, did/does Steve know about any of this? (The reason I started looking all this up was because I wanted to know if Steve knew.) I don't know if we have a panel of Roger specifically admitting any of this to Steve (and if we do, I would like to know about it), but I would be comfortable saying that Steve probably knew back then -- because, well, he seems like the kind of guy who would actually have been fine with it in the 40s, what with all his gay friends -- and also that I can't think of a reason why he wouldn't know now. Because he's definitely worked with Roger again in fairly recent comics, and also Roger is very much out, these days.

In fact, New Invaders #4 (2004) opens with Roger attending Pride:

So, yeah, he's out.

(Then he has to fight, as far as I can tell, homophobic Nazi vampires. They're yelling slurs in German. Great.)

In All-New Invaders #10, which is from 2014 (and which is not the same series as New Invaders), Roger shows up to help out the Invaders, and in passing, he just happens to mention to another character (Joseph Chapman, the current Union Jack), that he is in fact gay:

He and Joseph don't really like each other much; as far as I can tell, their acquaintance in New Invaders consists of Joseph being vaguely homophobic and Roger being bitter about him being Union Jack because he actually wanted to be Union Jack himself to honor Brian's memory -- you know, that thing superheroes sometimes like to do to honor their dead superhero significant others, viz. Hank when Jan was dead after Secret Invasion -- and now Union Jack is this annoying kid and not, y'know, the love of his life. This exchange from New Invaders #4 seems pretty representative of their relationship:

Anyway, yeah, he's pretty obviously out.

Steve isn't actually present for this conversation in All-New Invaders, but he mentions in a later issue of this run that he knows what Roger and his pals have been up to, plot-wise, so I feel comfortable assuming that he's talked to Roger at some point in the previous ten years or so, and therefore, since Roger is completely out at this point in canon, there's no reason Steve shouldn't know now.

On an unrelated note, it's also a fun issue if you're a Steve/Tony fan because this is clearly running in parallel with Hickman's Avengers run, which means that he spends half a page telling Namor that he's mad at him and the rest of the Illuminati (but mostly mad at Tony because... he's just obsessed with Tony in this run, I guess?) about the mindwipe:

This is the sum total of my knowledge about Brian and Roger. No, wait, I know one more thing, which is that Brian was a character in the late, lamented mobile game Avengers Academy, in which he was also actually gay; Roger does not seem to have been there. There's a CBR article that you can read about the whole thing, which mentions some of these details from the comics in passing. (I have no idea why it says that their relationship was alluded to in the Stern/Byrne run; unless I missed something big, the only thing those issues do is establish Brian's death. As far as I can tell, no one is gay in them.)

So, yeah, that's Brian Falsworth and Roger Aubrey, the two gay Invaders. Steve sure has a lot of gay friends.

[chaoticdesertdweller]

This house. Another "haunted" house from my childhood. I'd like to talk about this house for a moment.

For a brief time, approximately a year, I lived a block over from this house. I'm guessing a year because that's typical duration of a rental lease and mom moved us a lot! Anyway, I was 8 or 9 years old when this house made the local news for the worst case of animal cruelty I'd ever heard of. I haven't had any luck finding a copy of that newspaper article so I'm going on my memory. I want to say it was May of 1991 but I won't swear to it. The house was for sale. A realtor showing the house opened the door to a house of horrors. Apparently the couple who last lived at the house were former employees of the local animal shelter and had been hoarding animals in this large home. But when they moved, they didn't take the 40+ animals with them. I can't remember how long the house had been empty but the 40+ animals were decomposed to the point of skeletal remains. I'll never forget that photo on the front page. It showed the realtor standing in front of a fireplace littered with bones. Animal remains were found on every single floor of the house except the attic. The story shook me and haunted me. How could anyone do this to so many defenseless creatures? And how didn't any neighbors hear the barks and howls coming from the house? They certainly didn't die quietly and most likely fed upon one another. I had so many questions. Like the Amityville murders, no one heard a peep...

So I did what any outcast loner 9 year old would do. I clipped the article and became obsessed with the house and those poor cats and dogs. Even though we lived nearby, we never passed by that house on our daily routine. So I asked mom to drive by it out of admitted morbid curiosity. I felt such a sorrow, such a heavy sadness as we drove by. There were brown paw prints on the windows. The front door and several windows were open. I suppose they were airing it out. This was just a few days after the article came out.

I had gotten the next door neighbor's name from the article so I looked her up in the White Pages. I was sleuthing at 9. She answered the phone and I told a white lie that I was doing a story for my "high school" paper. She was very kind, friendly and answered my questions. But she told me very little new information and mostly repeated what she told the Roanoke Daily Times. She was elderly and couldn't hear or see well and swore adamantly that she had no clue about the abandoned animals next door. And she reiterated that the former tenants were friendly and wonderful and she couldn't imagine them doing such a thing. It was very cliché of true crime documentaries i.e. "you'd never suspect he had bodies in the basement" etc. She told me to please call again soon but I didn't.

Not long afterwards I moved on to another obsession but never entirely forgot the house and what happened. I think I read that the tenants were charged with various crimes stemming from this story but I believe they received probation and fines. This was the early 90s. Animals didn't have as many protections then as they do now. And it's still not good enough. Their lives still don't matter to as many as they should.

I've searched online for the original article. I lost my copy long ago. I may have to go to a local library and search microfilm. Any time we're in the area, I think of that house. I've driven by it a few times. The vibes feel a lot lighter now. Hopefully those souls are at peace. I can't help but wonder if the past and present occupants know it's morbid history? I'm not sure if it's required to disclose. After all, it wasn't 40 humans. I think I'd want to know.

The photo posted isn't mine. It's from the most recent real estate listing.

[kpop-zone]

Blackpink reaction to their s/o being insecure because of shippers

Jisoo

Jisoo had noticed that something was bothering you for quite some time already. You didn’t speak up about your worries though and she didn’t want to pressure you into talking. Therefore, she kept quiet and simply opted to observe you in case your state would worsen. But overall, you seemed to be fine, so weeks passed without Jisoo ever figuring out what was wrong, and it took a stupid TV commercial to open her eyes.

The two of you were watching some TV when the teaser for the upcoming KBS Music Festival came on which caused Jisoo to chuckle.

“Great, now the shippers will go crazy again.”

She laughed amused, because the clip was cut very unfavorable and showed Jinyoung and her in the same scene.

Since they had been the special MCs for an award show together, countless dating rumors circulated, and a surprisingly high number of fans actually wanted to see them together. For Jisoo, this situation was really funny. She liked Jinyoung, he was a decent guy, but she couldn’t ever picture herself with him. Mostly, of course, because in her head, you were a fixed part of her future, but also because she didn’t think that Jinyoung and her were a good match. Therefore, she sometimes read all the weird conspiracy theories by the fans when she wanted to have a good laugh.

Apparently, however, you weren’t able to laugh about this situation. When Jisoo glanced at you, she could see that you were gulping thickly as if you were choking down some tears. Her demeanor immediately changed, and she reached out to grab your hand.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

She asked concerned, but you only shook your head in response.

It was clear to Jisoo though that something was bothering you. Intently, she thought about what could have caused your sudden mood change until the penny dropped at last.

“Jagiya, you’re not worried about Jinyoung and me, right?”

You stayed quiet for a while, confirming Jisoo’s assumption which made her feel guilty for not realizing it sooner.

“I’m not worried that you’ll cheat on me. But the rumors always remind me how much better than me you could do and that your fans would probably tear me apart if they knew that you are dating someone like me.”

Your words knocked the air out of Jisoo’s lungs, and she almost gasped in shock.

“What are you talking about? Please don’t say something like that ever again. You are the only one I want to be with and the only one that can make me happy.”

She stated clearly, wondering whether she hadn’t made her love for you obvious enough in the past.

“If you want to, I can talk with the management and ask whether they can make an official statement, denying the rumors.”

Jisoo wouldn’t let any possibility slide to make you realize that the rumors were absolutely ridiculous and that she didn’t want anyone else beside her but you. If those shippers were making you sad, she had to find a way to handle them.

Jennie

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Your question ripped Jennie from her train of thought, and she cursed herself inwardly for not being able to hide her emotions better.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

She smiled, hoping that you would believe her. It would be selfish of her to complain about a thing that she knew was making you insecure. Exes were a delicate topic in every relationship, but those conversations were even harder when there were thousands of people out there that still wanted to see you together with your ex.

“I can see that you’re lying, Jennie.”

You softened your voice and laid one hand on her thigh in order to catch her attention.

In defeat, Jennie sighed, but still avoided your gaze. She couldn’t make a scene now, but if she saw the concern in your eyes, she knew that she would probably break down.

“It’s nothing important; just the same old. Rumors have spread again about...Kai and me. Just because we’ve been spotted in the same part of the city on the same night.”

Only saying those words were making Jennie feel nauseous. They brought back the memories about all the hate that she had received during her dating scandal and now every ship with another idol that she was being associated with made her anxious.

“Oh.”

You answered simply, causing Jennie to feel guilty for bringing it up.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I swear, I would have never gone to that restaurant if I had known that he was in the area too.”

She immediately apologized, feeling tears starting to pool in her eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jennie. None of that was your fault.”

You tried to flash her an encouraging smile, but Jennie could still see the insecurity in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry that you have to go through all of that because of me. If I could make it all stop, I would.”

She grabbed your hand and you squeezed hers tightly.

“It’s ok. I guess we both have to learn how to live with all those rumors.”

You sighed while smiling sadly.

Jennie wished that there was a way to stop people from stirring up both of your insecurities over and over again, but there was none. The only thing you could do was to try giving each other strength. Therefore, Jennie pulled you into a hug while apologizing once more for causing all that trouble.

Chaeyoung

New dream couple? 10 reasons why BTS’ Jungkook and Blackpink’s Rosé are a perfect match

When Chaeyoung read the headline of the newest article on one of South Korea’s most popular news pages, she rolled her eyes. For some reason, there seemed to be an army of shippers out there that wanted to see her and Jungkook together and were analyzing every little “interaction” of theirs to the smallest detail. In the beginning, she had ignored them, because there were a million rumors about her going around and she couldn’t pay attention to all of them. But when the voices of the people claiming that they were dating got louder and louder, she began to be bothered. Not because of herself, but because of you.

It was obvious that you were starting to feel insecure, because of the countless fans and reporters that were claiming that Jungkook and her were the perfect match. This article would only rub salt into your wound once more, causing Chaeyoung to feel endlessly guilty. Therefore, she immediately rushed home after work with your favorite takeout and some flowers in her arms.

“Hey baby.”

She greeted you happily right when she entered the apartment before snuggling up to you, causing you to chuckle.

“Hi to you too. What have I done to deserve all this love?”

You joked, but Chaeyoung just played it off.

“I love you and only you. That’s all.”

She smiled, but in that moment, you seemed to have realized what all of this was about.

“So this is about the article...”

Your expression changed immediately, and instead of your cute smile, a heavy frown was decorating your face now.

“I’m so sorry about that, Y/N. I don’t know where that is coming from again. I swear, I haven’t done anything. You are the only one for me. I would never do anything to fire up those ridiculous rumors. Please don’t worry about them.”

Chaeyoung started rambling, but she simply needed to make sure that you weren’t feeling upset. She knew where those insecurities of yours were coming from and they were absolutely valid, but she still wanted to free you of them; not only now, but sustainably.

Therefore, Chaeyoung started to be even more careful in the future. Not that she would have done anything to encourage the rumors in the past, but now she was paying even more attention to everything she was saying or doing. At award shows, for example, she always made sure to stand as far away from BTS as possible, so that there was not a single picture released that showed Jungkook and her in the same frame. In return, however, that lead to a number of opposing headlines.

All about the breakup of Jungkook and Rosé

Why do BTS and Blackpink hate each other?

Chaeyoung couldn’t care less about those articles though. As long as they helped to ease your insecurities, she would bare the hate.

Lalisa

“Which one sounds better, babe? LaBam or BamLisa?”

Lisa laughed while reading the newest articles about another addition to her countless ships; with her best friend BamBam. It was really amusing to her to watch all those fans colleting evidence to prove her relationship with the other Thai idol. Although she had to admit that if she wouldn’t know better, she might have believed those rumors too. Their stories sounded pretty conclusive sometimes.

“I didn’t even notice that I was looking at him!”

Lisa gasped before giggling when she looked at another Twitter post that made it look like she was looking at her friend in awe.

Her amusement soon died down, however, when Lisa realized that she wasn’t hearing any laughter from you. Confused, she averted her gaze from her phone to pay attention to you. You were staring ahead while the glistening in your eyes almost made it seem like you were about to cry.

“Y/N?”

Lisa called out your name in order to shake you from your trance.

“You would make a cute couple, wouldn’t you?”

You smiled, but the sadness in your eyes was giving away that you weren’t joking.

“What?”

Lisa asked perplexed, being caught off guard by your insecurities. She had never known that you were thinking about such things. The two of you were so happy together and Lisa had never even thought about dating BamBam.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Look, Leo is climbing up the curtain!”

Quickly, you tried to play off your statement by drawing attention to the cats, but while Lisa had to rush off to save her curtains, your question was still stuck in her brain.

This didn’t come from nowhere; you must have been seriously insecure all this time. A massive wave of guilt immediately washed over Lisa and she knew that she had to make it up to you. Therefore, she got off work early the next day in order to spoil you and treat you to a nice, homecooked dinner later that night. It took her several hours and some tries to get it right, but in the end, she managed to make some dishes that were actually enjoyable, and everything was ready for you when you came home.

“What is this??”

You gasped astonished and Lisa immediately wrapped her arms around your waist to pull you into the apartment.

“A token of my love and a thank you for always being by my side. I wouldn’t want to conquer this crazy world with anyone else.”

Lisa smiled, causing you to blush cutely.

It seemed like she had to surprise you more often from now on.

[gossipchii]

Drive to survive

FF.net: here / AO3: here

Characters: Ishida Yamato

Words: 5100+

Notes: I promised this on twitter, and here as well and well, it happened. A Digimon story on my latest obsession. the Formula 1.

It’s safe to say I got excited, this is my longest story in forever!

Anyway, hope you like it as much as I do. Enjoy!

He was making history; he could not let himself forget it. Not ever had there been a Japanese driver to win podiums, and so far, during that season only, he had five. He had been working towards where he was right now ever since he was 8, when his dad had taken him to a kid’s go-kart circuit in Tokyo and had found out his heart had never beaten quicker. His mom had gotten scared when he told her how much he had liked it, and that he wanted to go back.

The owner of the place, a former engineer for Formula 1, was impressed as soon as he placed his eyes on him.

“He’s got talent,” he had told his mother, she shrugged it off. It was only a hobby, it had to be.

When his grandparents had gone visiting from Paris, Yamato had insisted on them seeing him race, he was only ten at the time. His grandfather knew he raced go-karts from his calls with his mother, but since she had insisted it was just a hobby, he took it that way. Of course, as an old French man, he was a big afficionado of car races, and nevertheless he was impressed by how fast his young grandson was.

“He’s a natural Natsuko, you must understand this is not just a hobby.”

Yamato traveled back to France with his grandparents, after he had heard them discussed with his mother about him taking a shot at race teams in Europe, professional ones. He had never been a professional before, he was not even sure what that meant, since Formula 1 was not a popular sport between his classmates, it was all about soccer and baseball, he did not know people could get paid by racing.

Michel, his grandfather, had a friend, who knew a friend, who was a part of the recruiting team of Renault’s quarry, and as soon as they saw 10-year-old Yamato behind his tiny wheel, they knew he was a natural, good enough to start training as soon as possible with their team.

It all happened too fast for him, he had to go back to Tokyo to pack up his life and leaving for good. He was not even certain if he were feeling sad or nostalgic, all he knew was school would turn into something he could do at home, and in French, and that he would be racing all the time. It all sounded like a dream, really.

“Don’t tell your grandma I’m telling you this but go kick those English kids’ butts!” had been the encouragement words coming from his grandpa before his first-ever professional race. He was 13 at the time, already gaining enough attention from the media, especially from his home country, despite only stepping foot in Japan once a year.

He tried not to read anything regarding himself, they tended to be mean, and underappreciating him. He knew after the first article he had read, he would never read it again, what was the point anyway?

“Next time I see anyone writing something mean they’ll be fired, even if they work elsewhere,” his dad had threatened.

“It’s okay, I don’t even care anymore. Let them talk, all I care about is getting podium, again.”

And so, he did, until he was old enough to jump to the bigger leagues. From Formula 3 to Formula 2, and finally, with only 21 years old, signing a five-year contract with the team Michel had always admired: Scuderia Ferrari.

Sadly enough, he had not had the chance to see him drive in red, because he had passed away due to a heart-attack, his grandmother passing away shortly after. People said she had died from heartbreak. Yamato only took it as another reason why he had to prove his best. His management team had told him media were already calling him the best Japanese driver in history, and that was nice, but only if he made it reality.

Yamato had helped Ferrari pound back to being the first-place team once again, after years of competing against Red-Bull and Mercedes. But he had only been the fifth best racer, not good enough if he wanted to make history.

That week he was back in his homeland, Japan greeting him as a hero for the Japanese Grand Prix. It was scary how much his face was everywhere he looked, even more so than pop-icons. He was glad his team respected his choice to remain mostly private, and when they wanted advertising, his team-mate, an Austrian dude who was six years older than him, was more than happy to do the interviewing.

It was safe to say he was not pleased when they asked him to do a photoshoot for a local fashion brand, up and coming worldwide, apparently. Yamato did not care much about fashion, despite him being called the best dressed racer a few years in a row. Not that he knew about it, plus he usually put on an all-black outfit and he was through.

“Why can’t Lechner do it?”

“They want you specifically, Ishida.” His manager said softly, “even the Japanese embassy is paying for this partnership. Aren’t you proud to be Japanese?”

“Of course, I am, asshole.” He smirked, rolling his eyes as he decided it was the perfect timing to visit his brother.

As expected, he was on a tight schedule, this could never count as a vacation visit to Japan, but he had asked his team to send him into Japan two days earlier to visit his family. It was a tradition he tended to do ever since he started racing world-wide.

He took his ever-loved motorbike and drove as fast as he could to Odaiba. Driving a motorbike had been what he could call his hobby, since karting had turned into his job, having built a couple of them while living in Italy.

“He better be home,” he stretched his arms as he opened the door in front of him, knowing damn well his brother always made the mistake to leave it unlocked. He heard him singing in his bathroom, which meant he was finishing taking a shower. He looked around to confirm his mother was not home and shrugged it off. He had drifted apart from her when he initially moved to France with his grandparents, and even more so when his parents (finally) got divorced.

“Don’t you dare opening that door if you’re naked.”

“YAMATO?” Takeru opened the door wearing nothing but his tiny white trousers.

“I truly do not feel like seeing you naked,” but of course his younger brother could not care less and ran to greet him with a hug. He was the only person on earth allowed to hug him.

“What a funny way of admitting how much you had missed me!!” He gifted him one of his traded white smiles, the warmest smile Yamato knew. “Nervous for this weekend?”

“As long as it doesn’t rain, I don’t see why I should be.”

“Even when it rains you succeed, you’re always making everyone proud!”

“Even you?” he served himself oolong tea. He was surprised to see beer in his mom’s fridge, forgetting for a second his younger brother was legally allowed to drink.

“You know I’m your number one fan, those old-rich men are nothing compared to the original Yamato Ishida stan!” Takeru walked into his room to get dressed, for Yamato’s relief. He had offered his mother if they wanted to move to a bigger apartment, considering he now had the money to provide her and Takeru with something better, but she had refused, and he gave up after the third time.

“Going out?”

“I was going to, with the good-old gang, but that was before I knew you would pay me a visit.”

“So Hikari and company, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, even Taichi is coming, you should come, too!” Taichi was his oldest friend, the only one he missed when he moved to Europe.

“Nah, you know I don’t drink.” And it was not merely because of his strict diet, he was not a fan of what alcohol did with his mindset. “But you go and have fun, I must get back to my place, anyway, and be as early as possible in Suzuka tomorrow morning.” Takeru looked disappointed, Yamato felt a pinch of guilt for not being what a fun older brother was supposed to be. “But I’ll text Taichi! Remind everyone they’re invited this weekend, VIP seats and all!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, brother.” Yamato smiled softly before playing with Takeru’s hair like he used to when they were kids, even if he was almost his height.

He took a chopper ride from Tokyo to Suzuka the morning after. He had much rather taken the train, but Ferrari strictly prohibited him from doing so.

“Are you insane? People would eat you alive, you’re pretty much as famous as Hello Kitty is in this place!” He ignored his comment, it was always annoying to Yamato when they were in Japan, because most of his team-mates were foreign to Japanese culture, and he did not have the patience to educate every single one of them.

It was Thursday, which meant he could do strength exercises before the testing race the next day.

“How’s my superstar doing?” the mere voice of his manager irritated him, but he had another year signed up to him, afterwards he had decided to work by himself. After all, he still had another three-year contract with Ferrari.

“He’s extremely focused,” and he was strength training was the hardest to him.

“Don’t forget you have that photoshoot I had mentioned you in an hour, and I wouldn’t like you to go there all sweaty.”

“Do you think I would forget?” but in fact, he had forgotten it, his mind had probably erased the memory of that specific event.

“I’m glad we’re finally on the same track,” he winked at Yamato, before shutting the door of the hotel’s gym.

Yamato did not have much of a choice, so he took a cold shower before heading to one of the hotel’s meeting rooms. It had all been transformed for it to look like a Sakura garden. In reality, it was October and Sakura’s were far from blossoming. He would be lying if he did not admit it looked rather breathtaking.

He had heard about this up-and-coming brand. They had turned the Japanese typical attire and turned it into mainstream. He had to admit he was a fan.

He had also heard the brand had been started by a young student from Bunka Fashion College, under the wings of a bigger brand. He had heard, not that he cared, really, that the founder was around his age. Suddenly, he was curious.

“Ishida Yamato, what a pleasure to finally meet you!” a man around his thirties greeted him rather enthusiastic.

“You must be…?”

“Oh, you’re a funny one! Yoshio Fujiwara, of course!” And the Fujiwara branding was the bigger one who had taken the young designer under his wings, he wondered where she was.

“Of course, of course,” he bowed, always traying himself to remain close to his Japanese customs and traditions. “A pleasure to meet you, Fujiwara-san.”

“No need to be formal with me, I’m very used to western traditions, having spent most of your life in Europe, I would have killed for an opportunity like that!” Yamato tried his best not to roll his eyes, faking his best smile. “It is our biggest pleasure that you have accepted to be the face of our newest collection.” Yamato saw a petit figure running around the room with pieces of clothing covering her, he wondered if that was Fujiwara counterpart.

“It’s always delightful to put Japan’s name high, you know.” He cleared his voice, “so, am I also going to meet Takenouchi-san?”

“You absolutely will, she must be somewhere around… Sora!?” The fast-paced person finally stopped, uncovering her face from the piles of clothing she was carrying. “Don’t be rude and introduce yourself to Yamato.”

“Sure thing, just let me finish up the final touches and…”

“Now?!” Yamato noticed a subtle sigh coming from her lips. She surely seemed young, barely his own age. For the first time since the encounter started, he felt safe.

She ran right next to him, her attention still clearly on the mess she had left. He could immediately tell how passionate she was about what she was doing.

“It’s a pleasure, Ishida-san. I would love to lie and say I’m a fan, but truth is this is my first time having an encounter with races, or cars in general…”

“Sora! You’re being rude!”

“Sorry, I still take the subway and I never got a driver’s license!” Yamato snorted, in those five seconds he decided that redhead was his favorite person in the room.

“Well, I’m glad to admit this is not my first encounter with your brand, I’ve read so much.” Her eyes lit up; Yamato could have even sworn he spotted a subtle blush in her face.

He was rather awkward in front of the cameras, never quite a natural. Another reason why his team-mate was the one to do most of Ferrari’s advertisements. But Sora helped him feel in his element, somehow. He liked how much she got into her character, almost ignoring him by how much she cared on how her designs looked on him.

“I think we’re good, we shouldn’t take much more of your time.” By then, Fujiwara had left the room, Sora was certain he had slipped into the hotel bar.

“That must have been the less stressful photoshoot I’ve ever had, thank you, Takenouchi-san.”

“Oh, don’t call me that! I’m not older than you are.”

“Then you must accept to drop the formalities with me as well.” A grimaced appeared on her face, clearly unsure.

“But you’re a client, that would be completely unprofessional!”

“I promise I won’t tell anybody,” Sora liked that, a dirty-little-secret.

“Fine, but if Fujiwara is around, I’ll go back in character.”

“Deal,” Yamato grabbed a bottle of water and doubted if he should say what his mind was begging at him to do. “Are you staying for the race?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I had no idea how this worked.” She shrugged, clearly embarrassed. “I don’t understand why it lasts so many days, it’s confusing. This whole sport is confusing.” Sora liked sports, for instance, sports where a ball had to go from one side of the court to the other, not cars and tires.

“It’s not that hard, you’ll see,” they took a seat on the fake grass Sora had built for the photoshoot. “The first day is merely for us to get familiar with the track, nothing formal. The second day the places for the actual race, which is on Sunday, get settled. And that’s pretty much it.”

“And you get to travel the world for that?”

“People can be very serious about their cars.”

“Incredible,” she locked eyes with Yamato, she was not familiar with his sport but she sure was with his face, and not only because it was everywhere she looked around the city’s billboards, but because she had studied it for the whole photoshoot, and even for the particular line she was about to launch.

“It would be fun if you stayed, some friends around our age are coming too, so it won’t be that weird for you.”

“Okay, but I’ll stay for fun, not as a part of my job schedule.”

“Great!” He said way too enthusiastic, regretting it right away. “I can get you great tickets, so don’t worry about that.” She chuckled, taking out her VIP pass.

“Don’t worry, I have that part settled.”

“Of course, you do,” he felt stupid, all sponsors got the best tickets, even better than he could even get most times.

“So, I’ll see you around? Do you say break a leg for this?”

“Absolutely not! But I appreciate your luck wishes.”

He was glad on Friday’s there was never much of a crowd, that way he could stay focused on what mattered: getting comfortable enough with the track. Whenever he raced, he felt an almost out of body experience, where he could disconnect from his current reality and be one with his car. Ferrari had nicknamed him the racing samurai, for how dramatic his recovering could be whenever he was behind on the race.

Japan had never particularly been the biggest crowd when it came to Formula 1, but ever since he had started getting podiums, and making a name out of himself, it had a 180 degrees change. Ferrari could not be happier with the now 23-yeard-old racer, he was smart, analytic, and cold headed.

When he got back to the Pits, he was greeted by his family, not expecting to see them until the day after.

“You were pretty fast out there!” his dad said, as awkward as he usually was.

“This was merely the boring race, we were just testing the track,” he smiled widely, greeting him by what could be considered a hug, or sort of one.

“But Hiroaki is right, you were extremely fast. That car you’re racing, is a beauty,” seeing his mother was always an adventure for Yamato. Ever since he left home, at such a young age, they had drifted apart. Naturally, she was worried for her older son, racing and putting his life at risk every time he did so. Yamato had heard her fighting with his grandpa countless times, until she finally gave in. She was never going to win, Yamato loved karting the same way she loved writing.

“You were tremendous there, superstar!” his manager came to greet him, as much as he annoyed him, he was not a bad person, he just clearly loved the money Yamato made him gain. “You better keep up the pace the rest of the weekend.”

“That’s the plan,” Yamato served himself a cup of tea, while he took a seat in front of the screen that was studying his track performance. He was nearly obsessed with improving, never not paying attention at even the slightest mistake.

“Before I forget,” his manager was French, and spoke a very heavily accented English. His family, apart from Takeru, barely spoke any English at all, hence why they did not communicate with one another. Yamato despised that, considering he could speak four languages. “Young Takenouchi asked me to give you her number, Romeo.” Yamato’s cheeks flushed, as he took with both hands the business card he was being given.

“I’ll quickly go to my room,” he excused himself with his family, promising he would meet them for a quick dinner.

He wrote and re-wrote his text message towards Sora, not wanting to appear desperate. Formula 1 drivers, at least some of them, had the reputation of being more than successful with the opposite sex, however Yamato was rather unlucky. He put so much effort into his performance inside the track, he tended to neglect everything else. Hence why it felt nice to have a close to normal conversation with someone his age, a woman his age.

“This is Yamato, I heard the rumor you wanted to have my number,” he finally sent, wanting to throw his phone over the window right after.

“How come we spent so much time talking yesterday and I had to ask your manager for your number?” she replied right after, Yamato felt relieved.

“I guess we lost track of time.”

“Hey, I had to come back to Tokyo, business matters. But I’m not one to break any promises, so I hope you still save a seat for me for the big race on Sunday. Did I say that correctly?”

Yamato immediately felt disappointment, but he had to understand he was not dealing with someone unoccupied; this was a young entrepreneur with a worldwide successful fashion brand.

“Are you sure you want to make a four-hour trip to see some car racing?”

“As I said, I’m not a promise breaker. Plus, is not Formula 1 supposed to be the best car racing in the world? I won’t miss it, and I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry, and your spot on Scuderia Ferrari will remain untouched.”

“Great, I’m actually pretty excited! You have turned it into such a big deal for the country, I’ve never seen such a media coverage on the sport before. How was the tracking test?”

Yamato’s stomach made a turn. He did not want to focus on the pressure it meant to be in his home country, he just wanted to do what he always did, which meant to give his 100% performance, and get better every time. He just really hoped it would not rain on Sunday…

Him and Sora kept texting for the rest of the day, and the morning after as he got ready for the weekend’s second race. His goal was to qualify on the front row, that was always a determining factor for the final race. His mom had been right when she mentioned his car was a beauty, because it may not be the fastest car, that would still go to Mercedes, but if Ferrari had something no other team could fight with, was beauty.

He was not one to make many friends, but he was always amicable with the rest of the drivers. He saw them more than he saw his family, and even grew up with a big amount of them, but he always tried to focus on what they really were: his competition.

The weather so far had looked hopeful, a rainy race was one of his biggest fears, he had already had more than one rainy accident, and they had been hard to get over. He tried not to put too much thought into it, how he put his life at risk every time he got into the car, because there was no point in doing so, considering he was not going to stop, racing was the most important part of his life.

He got behind his wheel and his team assured his car was ready to go for the last time, and he got into driving mode, forgetting everything else, the pressure, the people, the weather, his friends. He almost disassociated from everything, but the track, and his team speaking whenever there was something to say, like which place he was on at the moment.

He had gotten so used to Ferrari, after being over two years on the team, that he could go as far as to describe its motor as a part of him. The first few laps were always the most stressful ones, and were most of the accidents happened, everyone tried to gain that valuable P1 as fast as possible, but Yamato thought of it as a waste of energy, he would rather stay behind for the first few laps and give it all in after. It had worked for him so far, avoiding the turmoil behind it.

There were 53 laps in the Japanese track, not that he counted them, but he always studied the tracks of wherever he was at. He just focused on staying in track, passing the rest of the drivers and being fast, and his team made sure he did not forget where his position was at the moment, which was a P5, his teammate was currently second. Fifth was not a bad position, it was still second row, but it was not his goal, he truly wanted first row. In the end he had managed to end up fourth, which his team congratulated him for, he still was not happy.

Back in Ferrari’s box, he had a bigger crowd greeting him, not only his parents and brother, but some of his closest childhood friends.

“Man, how does it feel to be able to fly!” Taichi said before giving him a big hug, which Yamato did not mind, he guessed he was also allowed to hug him.

“What I wonder is what that amount of speed can do with your body, I read you lose up to 3 liters every time you race,” Joe patted his shoulder, the soon-to-be-doctor never missed to drop a random anatomy fact on him. “And sorry, but it seems to Koushiro your car’s machinery is way more impressive than you.”

His third friend, a genius redhead, had been talking non-stop with his team’s engineers, asking questions Yamato could possibly never answer.

He spent the next few hours doing interviews, as much as he hated them, it was on his contract to do them before and after every Grand Prix. He also took more time studying his career, and where he could improve. He wanted to get podium on his home country more than he had ever wanted before.

But of course, he also took the chance to spend some time with his loved ones, catching up about their crazy adult lives.

“Koushiro could soon enough buy one of these teams, you know? He’s getting so rich!” Taichi had a big mouth, but they had gotten used to it. And to be fair with his brunette friend, he was not wrong, considering Koushiro’s software startup had gotten public, and the dude was only 22.

“And Jou’s about to be a doctor, and you, well, you didn’t get kicked out of Uni!” They all laughed, Taichi rolled his eyes. Yamato had gotten so comfortable with their conversation, he got scared when his phone began ringing.

“Yes?”

“Guess who’s just landed in Suzuka!” it was Sora, his heart skipped a beat. “I’m glad I made it a few hours before I had promised, I truly didn’t want to miss tomorrow’s race.”

“Where are you exactly? You should come join us! I’m at Ferrari’s tent with some childhood friends, I mean, if you’re not too tired.” His friends started yelling embarrassing things to him, as friends did whenever you spoke on the phone with someone, even if that someone was your own mother. Except, of course, it was not his mother.

“Great! I’ll ask the driver to drop me off.”

They spent the next few hours chatting, and laughing, and making fun of Yamato with embarrassing stories Sora was rather intrigued to keep on listening. Of course, Sora had hit it off with his friends, she was a great talker, they all had liked her, he could tell, especially with Koushiro, considering the man was the clearest book when it came to first impressions. He felt disappointed once he checked his watch to confirm it was time for him to go to bed, the big day was closer than ever.

Suzuka was one of the last races on Formula 1’s schedule, which meant every single point counted even more. He was disappointed when he checked the weather, there was a rain forecast, but there was nothing he could do, he still was willing to give the best race he had given in his career span. His friends and family wished him the best of luck, just as he dressed up in the famous red suit.

He had never felt this overwhelmed before, as soon as he stepped a foot outside of Scuderia Ferrari’s box, the crowd chanting his name was like nothing he ever heard before. He bowed shyly, turning the shouts even louder. Fame had never been something he had been looking for once he started racing in Formula 1, but he thought at the end of the day it was only inevitable. He really wanted to make his co-nationals proud.

P4 was not a bad place to start racing, yet he could hear his heart beating up to his ears. A rainy race was always messy, and there was always a bigger risk for accidents, not just for him, but for the other racers as well. He had to drive smartly; speed was not all that mattered in that moment.

His eyes were fixated on the checkered flag, as soon as it went down, his feet went all in. Suzuka’s Grand Prix finally starting.

As it was expected, some cars lost control on the very first curve, him being noticed by his team on the other side of the microphone. He hoped nothing bad had happened to them. On a rainy race it was important to have extra control while reaching a curve, and absolutely never trying to overpass another racer while on them.

By lap 30 he had improved to P3, the engine of the previous third place had had some issues, which pushed him into the pits. The Ferrari engine had significantly been improved for the current season, and it showed. It had been a while since the red team had had both of their cars in podium position, and he was doing quicker laps than the last year’s race.

Everything appeared to be going according to plan, Yamato wanted to win, of course, but he was not unhappy with the third place. Yet, the unthinkable happened on lap 49, when his teammate lost control of the steering wheel. It all happened so quickly, Yamato could barely avoid the inevitable crash, which was bad enough for them to call a red flag, every racer had been sent back into pits.

His teammate had been fine, he could even walk by himself; however, his car could have been confused with garbage. A shame, really, everything had been better than what they could have imagined. Now every podium expectation fell on his shoulders, and he could hear the public screaming his name even louder, as if he was some sort of rock star.

“Only 4 laps left, you can do it,” and he was now put in second place, a bittersweet feeling inside his gut.

The final lap felt like the longest he had driven, all he truly wanted was for it to end. He was less than two seconds away from the first place, which his team kept repeating. He knew he could do it, if he tried and overtake him near the end, right after the final curve… And so, he did, winning a podium for the first time in his short Formula 1 life career. He had not done it for himself only, but for Lechner as well. It felt insane, he was no longer feeling the ground, he was still flying somehow.

Champagne soaked him as soon as he stepped out of the car, being hugged by everyone on the famous red car team. He was not easily to make cry, but he could not help the tears coming out, and he wished, if he were ever going to cry again, it better be as good of a feeling as he finally lifted the trophy for Suzuka’s Grand Prix.

[princessmadafu]

That Book (excuse the long post)

I didn't want to jump into the fray without first thinking over the published extracts of FF and the various critiques and synopses in the press. I'd just like to send huge thanks to YankeeWallee and everyone that YW herself thanks for the collated screenshots of the excerpts and RoyahNikkah's review. I'll do what the rest of you do and state here that these are my personal opinions and anything quoted comes under "fair usage", etc. Long live free speech!

My over-riding reaction is, what an absolute pile of lies, lies and more lies. Starting with Scobie's sources, of which he says there are at least two per nugget of information. I believe most of the book has come directly or indirectly from MM herself, and that any "sources" have MM's blessing, sanction or outright order to disclose. FaceTiming in the bath? How would Scobie know? Unless he was in the bath with her, this can only have come from herself or the friend being FaceTimed. There is too much of a highly personal nature for it to be Scobie's own investigative work. So there's the first lie, straight from the weirdly-toothy Sussexy horse's mouth; of course she collaborated!

Some of us had our reservations right from the start of Harry and MM's relationship, but we were prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt and join in the welcome of a biracial, divorced American actress. Right-wing, left-wing, a-political or not-royally-bothered, we all thought, Let's give the pair a chance to see what they can do.

How about this article from Spiked on the engagement of Harry & MM from 2017:

Meghan Markle: Generation Woke's Princess Diana - spiked

"...look no further than the fawning response to the engagement of Prince Harry and American actress Meghan Markle – one of those rare occasions in which both the Telegraph editorial team and the identity-politics set erupted in simultaneous celebration."

How quickly the celebration wore off as the pair of them squandered our goodwill. Another article from Spiked from July 2019, less than two years later, is harsher, when we've all been insulted, preached at and condemned as racists by PH&MM:

Meghan Markle is the worst kind of snob - spiked

"With the possible exception of a few sad social outcasts, no one has a problem with the fact that Meghan’s mum just happens to be black. No, Meghan is criticised for being snobby, elitist, hopelessly out of touch and possessing all the self-awareness of a flea. It’s not Meghan’s skin colour that annoys people, but the fact that she thinks nothing of donning an outfit that costs more than most people in the UK earn in a year and then getting her minders to order the public not to take photos of her. [...] There are heaps of reasons for people not just to criticise Meghan and Harry, but to ridicule their hypocrisy and puncture their pomposity. And not one involves the colour of Meghan’s skin. Meghan comes in for criticism because she is the worst kind of snob who condescends to tell others not just what to do, but also what to think. The fact that she is biracial is completely irrelevant. Of course, there is an obvious solution for Harry and Meghan if they do not like the public attention and criticism. Harry could denounce his claim to the throne. They could give up the titles, move out of the palaces and fund their own lifestyle. I can’t for the life of me imagine why they don’t."

Prescient, no? Six months later and they announce they're off. She played him like a fiddle. The raptures she went into over Botswana and wanting the spend the summer? Did she feed his fantasies of moving to Africa permanently? How strange that Africa became Canada, which then became Los Angeles? Strange my perky little bottom! She had this planned all along. I don't know if PH is with her over there, but she certainly seems to be feeding the illusion that she is now Hollywood Royalty. If she couldn't cut real Royalty, she definitely won't cut the LaLaLand version which is a lot less restrained in voicing its opinions of jumped-up wannabes. Especially the Markly ones who cut, dump, run and show no loyalty or staying power.

The following points, in no particular order, are mostly from an assortment of DM writers and comments from members of the public.

"The book claims the so-called ‘old guard’ tried to undermine the couple and ‘were concerned that the global interest in and popularity of the Sussexes needed to be reined in’." A little self-aggrandisement here, possibly? Global interest, maybe, of the rubber-necking car crash variety, but global popularity? When was that, exactly? Royal staff are all well aware that the purpose of the Royals is to support HMTQ; that is their job. If the Sussexes needed reining in at all, it was because they weren't doing their job properly.

"Harry and Meghan believed ‘few inside the palace were looking out for their interests’ and felt that most courtiers could not be trusted with their sensitive information." Ditto, the courtiers' job is to look out for the interests of HMTQ; PH&MM's job was to look out for the interests of HMTQ, not themselves.

"They believed that these ‘men in grey suits’ were stifling their attempts to launch their initiatives, and when they tried to air these frustrations ‘the conversations didn’t lead anywhere’." I mean, come on! PH is 6th in line. He knows that. There is no "they" involved here - it's all MM again, isn't it, thinking she's more important because she's more popular and she famously gets what she wants... She thought she could snap her fingers and make whatever she wanted happen. She ignored the hierarchy and the protocols, and probably (I suspect) got dimwit Harry believing that she knew best, and that together they could change the world.

"One source said Harry felt that some of the old guard at the palace ‘simply didn’t like Meghan and would stop at nothing to make her life difficult’." I can well believe that staff at the palace didn't like her - she showed her true colours quite early on - but deliberately making her life difficult? I suspect this is what MM told Harry. Twisted the truth, naturally. I'm guessing she made a few ridiculous OTT demands, or wanted some unworkable project, and the staff, knowing their jobs as they do, tried to point out the flaws in her ideas, prevent her making a fool of herself, or otherwise politely protect her from herself. Goodness knows, she made a fool of herself often enough, barging in front and all that...

"The book concludes that Meghan was ‘totally foreign’ to this group of advisers, who ‘could sometimes be even more conservative than the institution they guarded’." They were guarding an institution with over a thousand years of history from someone with neither understanding of nor respect for British history, the Monarchy, or the duties of the RF; and she made no effort to learn.

"Another insider said: ‘The fact is that Meghan was welcomed with open arms and everyone did their best to offer their help about how to navigate such a tricky public role – advice she would often choose to ignore." The arrogance of the woman! And she was welcomed. She just believed that she knew best.

"Omid Scobie said Meghan’s high-profile career as an actress and the fact that she was a divorcee left her ‘ripe for exploitation’." High-profile career, mwah! Actress, mwah! Divorcee, so what? Charles and Camilla are both divorce/es, Anne is a divorcee, so is Andrew, and a whole bunch of other lesser royals. As for being ripe for exploitation, I think we all know how this panned out and MM wasn't the one being exploited! Far from it. She milked every opportunity and opening her new title and her new husband could bring her.

"During one of their final engagements as senior royals, Meghan was ‘purposefully snubbed’ by Kate in front of a global TV audience, the authors claim." Well now, where to start on this one? MM threw a hissy fit because she wasn't allowed to walk in the procession with HMTQ, C&C and DDoC. The DDoC decided to appease MM by pulling out of the procession and taking their seats. Now I don't know what DDoC thought about that but I can just imagine them comparing MM's behaviour with that of their own beautifully behaved kids. I can just imagine them thinking thank God she'll be gone soon! I doubt there was any purposeful snubbing at the service but MM has no manners and no idea how to behave, not even in church. The DDoC are too well brought-up to "carry on" in a place of worship, nor would they lean across seats for a happy little chat, just a quick turn round for a friendly word with Edward and Sophie immediately behind them before the arrival of C&C and HMTQ. Churches are not places to be gossiping and grinning inanely, and you definitely don't push your way through the chairs when the service is over! She is so rude and ill-mannered.

"The book claims Meghan and Kate’s ‘cordial but distant rapport’ was apparent when the pair appeared alongside each other at the King Power Royal Charity Polo Day last summer." I don't remember the dates exactly, but I should think by this time DoC was well and truly fed up with MM's shenanigans; the doe-eyes she'd been pulling at PW, the rumours she and the SS had been fanning about PW and une petite liaison with a long-time friend... Cordial but distant was probably the best MM could hope for at this stage; DoC was hardly about to play Happy Families with the troublemaker.

"The couple were dismayed when no photograph of them and their son Archie was displayed during the Queen’s Christmas speech last year." It was quite clear that the photos on display represented the direct line of succession, from HMTQ's father through to her great-grandson - five generations of the Monarchy. I truly believe that MM wanted to "modernise" the RF to such an extent that PH would be elected King! With MM at his side, dripping in all the jewels she could get her greedy mitts on! I realise it must be hard for PH to get to grips with his status as "Pretty Much Relegated Former Spare", but she must have been really feeding his insecurities if she got him upset about the absence of a photograph.

"Prince Harry was the first to say 'I love you' in his relationship with Meghan Markle, with friends revealing the couple were 'immediately obsessed' with each other, according to the latest extract of a bombshell biography." Oooh, how would Scobie know something as intimate as this? Immediately obsessed with each other, I can well believe; MM with his status, title, money, the palaces, the jewels... and she reeled him into her fantasy world with lies and perfectly posed KamaSutra yoga until he was obsessed with this chameleon woman, at the same time both mother-figure and hot, sexy, adoring, sophisticated, intelligent, humanitarian animal lover. Oh the lies, the lies; "Will you walk into my parlour, said the Spider to the Fly."

"They enjoyed a romantic dinner, with staff taking great pains to ensure their privacy, whisking them in through a staff entrance usually used to bring in fish discreetly." This is their second date at SoHo House, and again, how would Scobie know little details unless MM had told him herself? I like the hint of shade by the writer noting that the entrance was used to bring in fish discreetly - there's definitely something fishy about MM!

How about some comments from DM readers?

"Every single shameless self-serving tabloid "leak" and publicity stunt she has orchestrated has backfired specularly. Hence why Harry has gone from beloved military man and active working Royal to a national embarrassment within two short years! Her efforts at aggressive self-promotion are no match for her lack of talent or perspective in that area. She could have heeded advice from other, more dedicated Royals, but No. Meghan knew better and decided that she was deserving of instant worship fit for her 'celebrity' expectations. The Duchess of Cambridge has earned respect over years with quiet dedication to her causes. Meghan felt entitled to all the glory instantly, and was clearly slighted to learn that respect is not something to be commanded. She is a culture vulture with no respect or understanding of the very people that she promised to represent." [Jace T Adams]

"The narrative of the relationship is laughable. Everyone knows they first met in Canada when Harry was there for Invictus. He needed a girl for the night and Meghan was arranged for him. She must have been impressive as they had a date the next day and the rest is history." [Lady M]

"You can't work with someone you don't trust and these two have proven untrustworthy." [ellegrav]

I have no inside information on any of above, but people better placed than I am are making similar judgments on the contents of FF; people who've spent their working lives following and reporting on the RF.

"The Queen’s former press secretary Dickie Arbiter told the Mail: ‘I think it has their fingerprints all over it. We had a similar scenario in 1992 when Diana swore blind she hadn’t helped Andrew Morton and yet a year later it came out that she had indirectly helped him so history is repeating itself. ‘There are too many things that we have seen in the serialisation that could only come from the horse’s mouth, like deciding to gatecrash Sandringram when they landed from Canada."

And Jan Moir: JAN MOIR on the Meghan and Harry biography that has put ...

What did the pair of them want or expect? Top billing, it seems. What is remarkable is that Harry’s whole life and entire upbringing have been devoted and calibrated to him being a prince. Surely he understands how it works? Surely he could have explained the system to his vexed new bride? Primarily, that being royal is a form of active service, with ranks and a hierarchy so uncomplicated that schoolchildren throughout the realm understand the line of succession and its importance to the Windsors — and to us.

And Robert Hardman: ROBERT HARDMAN: Harry and Meghan are ... - dailymail.co.uk

Yet Finding Freedom is a struggle against protocol and seating plans. It is based on the perceived unfairness of a pecking order which has governed — and preserved — the monarchy for 1,000 years.

We can't all be wrong!

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

hey hey you yeah, I don’t like your girl(boy)friend

summary: The Daily Bulge publishes a not so good article of Spider-man with Black Cat, y/n is pissed because that’s her boyfriend not only flirting but not catching her, so she decides to take matters into her own hands but it’s not that easy, because I mean Felicia is…well you will see.

word count: 4.3 k

author’s note: This was supposed to go one way, hence the title but the 20% of bi in me changed it once I saw like a one hour video of Felicia Hardy, AKA Black Cat on the PS4 game. I mean DAMN girl’s got game. Anyway, like and reblog and leave me requests like whatever you want and I DON’T KNOW HOW THE HELL THOSE TAG LIST WORK but I'm just going to try and do it. There’s going to be a few mistakes that ill be correcting them once I’m not burned out of this story since I wrote it like in record time. Love, -J.

                                                   ___________

“What is this?”, you place your phone in front of Peter’s face who was laying down in the living room of the Avengers Compound.

He had been training with Bucky and had actually gotten his ass kicked by him since Bucky had gotten a new vibranium arm from T’Challa and Shuri, he was even stronger which annoyed Peter. Plus, he was already a trained assassin which made it difficult but with a vibranium arm? Nearly impossible.

“What?” Peter asked as his eyes fluttered open, he didn’t even know what he had to see since you had plastered the phone too close to his face.

And then they focused:

THE DAILY BULGE: Spider-man in a relationship with Black Cat, the same one who has been *terrorizing* New York the last few months. We request NYPD to investigate this romantic relationship or alliance.

Peter’s eyes opened like plates as he scrolled down and found attached to the article a rather… racy photo of him and Black Cat. Black Cat had Peter against a wall from a random rooftop in Queens, her arms were around his neck and her knee was between his legs really close to… well. It didn’t look good.

Fuck, Peter thought.

“Care to explain why my boyfriend is having a make-out session in a dark rooftop with Black Cat?”, you asked as you glared down at him. “Who, coincidentally, we have never even gotten this close to catch her for like a month?”

Peter sighed as he stood up and took a hold of your hand.

“Y/N, you know that it’s not what it looks like”, Peter said as he looked at your face, scowling.

You knew a lot of things in life, inheriting the genius genes of Tony Stark, you liked to think that you knew a lot. But one thing you knew, and you were sure about was that Peter Parker definitely adored you. Every glance, every touch, every moment, every word, hell you were sure that he would die for you. But this photo, this situation, definitely stroked a chord in you.

Peter was hot, he had grown out of that nerdy and shy guy he was when you first met him, and he was starting to become the leader you always knew he was, and girls notice it too. Gwen Stacy was all over Peter every time they ran into each other, plus girls sometimes couldn’t keep their eyes off of Peter when you walked with him. But here was the thing, if Peter was hot, Spider-man was hotter. Spider-man checked all the boxes for many girls: Fought against crime, had THE body that looked GREAT with that suit, safe everyone, risk his life, was an avenger and was extremely close and great to everyone that met him, I mean he was even polite to villains. Spider-man was winning the race for Avenger with more fan accounts, you were a close second and Thor was third.

But this? This was a whole different level.

“So why didn’t you bother to tell me about it?”, you asked as you snatched the phone from Peter’s hand and walked towards the kitchen.

Peter rolled his eyes and he followed you. As a couple, this was a first and Peter Parker, being as oblivious as he was, never thought something like this would actually happen.

And less with someone like Black Cat.

                                                         …

Peter had been doing patrols alone since you had been extremely busy the last few weeks, Peter knew you were an important person, but it had been out of controlled lately. Firstly, you had to study for university since your academic achievements were your second goal in life, plus law school wasn’t easy; Then, Pepper and you had actually started a project with Starks Industries about giving free classes to women and girls interested in STEM careers for them to earn a kind of degree that could start-jump their own projects or even work at Starks Industries; Moreover, you had been getting together with Fury and all the other Avengers about information regarding hydra nests in Europe and Latin America. And so, patrolling fall back at the end of your list, which was actually sad since it had been a way of spending time with Peter since you began avenging at fifteen.

But Peter had let it go, he didn’t want to be another thing for you to worry about, you would see each other every night and sleep together in your room at Stark’s Tower, and he was doing it fine alone, I mean it sucked being alone but nothing too big had happened and he managed himself, at least until Black Cat appeared.

“You look good”, a silky voice woke Peter out of his thoughts as he was watching Queens in a random rooftop he had recently swing to.

Peter turned around, startled when he saw her, and boy, she was something to see.

Grey or almost white hair wrapped up in a tall ponytail, with two strands of hair framing her face perfectly, complementing her sharp jawline while her almost purple eyes shined from behind her mask. Then her black leather costume with soft white lines was, well, tight everywhere. It framed her body perfectly and it looked like almost a second skin. Her body was voluptuous and beautiful, and her hands looked like claws with those nails, they seemed like they could cut ice.

But for Peter? She had nothing on you.

Peter stayed silence, he had been completely taken by surprise and he tried to prepare himself for his next moves. He definitely needed to catch her.

See, you had actually been having a lot of problems with her lately. At first, they were art robberies or to really rich people in Upper Manhattan, which was concerning but mostly it was something that the NYPD could take care of, but recently like all criminals she escalated. The latest ones were to Oscorp Industries and Hammer Industries, which was concerning considering that the information that these companies held was extremely delicate. Peter and you were really worried about what she could do to that information or more accurately, who she would sell that information to. Pepper and Happy were especially worried about any security breach to Stark Industries or even the Avengers compound but you had reinforced the security for both of those.

Therefore, it had been priority number one to catch her but here was the thing, she was sleek as hell and always escape before you could actually do anything about it.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue?”, she asked softly as she got even closer to Peter. Her eyes gleamed with malice and smirk was drawn on her face, as Peter struggled to find the right words and at the same time think how he could take her down.

“How, how did you find me?” Peter managed to get out as his body stiffened when she gave a cartwheel and landed in front of him, on the edge of the building.

She giggled as she stepped forward Peter, who barely gave a step backwards into the air. She was closer than ever, and Peter swallowed hard as she placed one of her nails in his chest, playing with it.

“I’ve been watching you, you seem like my type”, Black Cat whispered as she drew little hearts and strings on Peter’s chest. “A strong, polite and hot gentleman I could negotiate with”

Peter felt her getting more relax and knew this was the time to act.

“Then, I’m definitely not your type” Peter answered as he took a hold of her wrist and shot a web towards a wall in the door’s rooftop, his plan was to stick her up completely to the wall.

But as before, she had an advantage and as soon as he shot his web towards the door, she retaliated. It was different than most fights Peter had because she was simply smooth as anyone could be and he barely realized when she placed a hand on his shoulder and step over his knee. He even dared to say she was smoother than Natasha since, at this point, Peter was unaware until she managed to get off his grip on her wrist, climb over him and then push him on the ground while she did a backflip towards another rooftop.

Peter groaned as he hit the floor but quickly reacted as he shot another web and pushed himself into the other rooftop where Black Cat had jumped. When Peter landed, he didn’t saw her, and it was just an empty rooftop, he cursed under his breath. He had lost her, again.

But then he felt it, in one swift motion she catch his wrist as he turned around to see her behind him, grinning, biting her lower lip while she giggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, but I really think you are”, Black Cat whispered as she suddenly pushed him against a wall, flesh against flesh and pressed his wrist a bit harder than before.

From one second to another, blue sparks started to appear on his web shooter as Peter watched in disbelief. Ok, now he was pissed. He shook her grip on him and he quickly places one of his hands behind her back, attempting to push her into the floor and then cover her on web from his reminding web shooter.

“Okay this isn’t funny anymore” Peter whispered as he pushed with all his strength, thinking that she would fall on the floor.

But a hold on his arm quickly showed Peter she wasn’t following on his plan when his arm pushed her to a side she managed to do a backflip and they ended up in the same position, as if nothing had happened, except she now she had her hand -paw- on his chest, holding a small button and she pressed it like she meant it.

And Peter felt his muscles were starting to go numb, itching all over his body while blue sparks appeared all over his suit.  Black Cat smiled, a playful look drawn on her face. She pressed her flesh against him and quickly separated his legs in one swift movement.

“I would really like to know the face under that mask, you must be eye candy”, Black Cat whispered as her hands quickly went behind his neck and her knee rose between his neck.

Peter couldn’t move, he simply couldn’t, and he felt like he was blushing more and more as each second passed almost at the same rate as his frustration with this lady. She was indeed beautiful, and he hated that he had been distracted by it and now this was just plainly uncomfortable with him as he felt self-conscious about their closeness, how she was moving on him.

“I have a girlfriend”, Peter growled as he tried to escape, to move but he couldn’t, and he couldn’t stop looking at those gleaming purple eyes that were looking at him keenly. “What do you want?”, he finally let out in a sigh.

Black Cat smirked as her lips ghosted over Peter’s lips that were behind the mask.

“Lucky her and like I say I want to do business with you”, she responded, her voice sounded like honey as she got little closer Peter and toyed with the mask. “Think about it stud, I do business and pleasure”

She gave a back handspring and Peter felt into the floor with a groan, he was feeling a lot more now, but he couldn’t exactly move like before.

As soon as he could get up, she was gone.

                                                              …

“And you didn’t care to tell me all this before?”, you glared at Peter with disbelief from the other side of the kitchen counter.

Peter opened his mouth for a moment and then shut it, he looked down. He really wanted to tell you, it had happened yesterday, but he was somehow nervous about how to bring out the subject, especially the part where he let her go.

You rolled your eyes, you couldn’t believe how Peter was acting. You knew he was polite and try to do the best thing in every case, but this was as if she had taken advantage of him which made your blood boil, even more, this was your boyfriend and your job, and no one would distract you from it.

“Okay that’s it, I’m going with you today and we are going to catch her”, you stated as you looked at Peter, a little bit softer than before.

This was Peter’s cue.

“We are going to babe”, Peter said to you with a smile as he climbed over the counter and landed directly at your side. “I love you”

He took a hold of your hand and pulled you into him, so you were looking directly at his lips and he placed his hand on your back and pulled you closer. He loved you, he loved you so much and he hated the idea of disappointing you or you getting somehow upset with him.

But you still couldn’t get over it, you still weren’t done being upset so when Peter pulled you in for a kiss, you quickly turned your head and his lips hit your cheek.

He whimpered.

“By the way, you need to talk to the press department about this, because it doesn’t look good”, you said before you placed your phone on his chest and quickly escaped his hold on you.

He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath, now he was really upset.

                                                       //

You watched Queen’s from the same rooftop that Peter had been the day before, it was actually one of his favorites. It had a great view of one of the main streets in Queens, which was perfect for him on an avenger level but even better as it had a movie cinema that he loved, Delmar’s, a pizza place that was declared the best by MJ and more. You had been at that rooftop countless times before as Tony allowed you to start going on patrols with Peter to Queens for you to have a little bit more practice in the real world and actually help more people. If it was a slow day, you would even get snacks and have a little picnic here.

But today, it wasn’t a slow day as you stoop up from the edge of the building, pressing your necklace so your suit would return to the capsule on it. You had been here approximately three hours and there was still nothing. Peter, meanwhile, was studying for his A.I. class that hadn’t been his best subject lately, not because it was actually hard for Peter but most of all because he had been missing class because of Spider-man duties.

You watched him as he had his mask folded on his face, just above the nose while he chewed on his pencil and typed quickly on his laptop. You smiled, you always thought he looked cute when he did that and you loved kissing him like that when you were on duty, it almost came with anticipation, Peter gazed at you and smiled, but you turned around -still a little bit upset about what had happened-. Peter rolled his eyes, you hadn’t kissed in what it seemed forever and well, Peter was all over you most of the time.

But then, he felt his spider senses going off on his right, he quickly pulled his mask down and packed his laptop on his bag.

“Y/N”, Peter said, and you turned around, watching him preparing. You tapped the charm on your necklace and quickly your suit began spreading all over your body, finally your mask closing.  Peter ran towards you and remained on your side.

From one moment to another a shadow appeared on the rooftop, there she was.

“I liked our picture in the article, we went viral you know?” Black Cat grinned as her hips moved from side to side as she walked towards you.

Now, you more or less understood what had happened yesterday, there was something about her that just seemed intoxicating.

“I wouldn’t exactly say it went viral Cat” Peter spat out, as he backed a bit from her while she walked.

“Well well, what a surprise, you did what I asked and brought me the one I really needed to bargain with?” Black Cat said as her focus shifted on you, who had remained silence watching her every move. “And she’s a cutie”

Peter turned around to watch you as the nanotech disappear from your face, so you could really talk to her.

“Okay Cat, I’m running out of patience, could you maybe stop flirting with him and get to business?”, you hissed as you walked towards her calmly. “What do you want? Is Stark Industries' next target?”

Black Cat laughed loudly and with a touch of elegance as her paw went towards her chest.

“Oh no baby, I wouldn’t mess with you. But I’m having trouble thinking why you would want to help Oscorp or Hammer industries if you really knew what they were working in” Black Cat said as she did a handstand forward rolled and got closer to you, she licked her lips when she landed in front of you.

“What do you mean?”, you asked her as she started surrounding you, as her hips rolled and undulated. She stopped for a second as she looked at you and then her gaze went back to Peter and then back to you.

“Wait, does it bother you Stark? Me flirting with Spider-boy? And here I thought that TMZ had reported that you already had someone special”, she giggled as your eyes narrowed.

Being the daughter of Tony Stark didn’t come at a free price, you had been in the media since you were little and knew it was something you had to handle. Mostly, with the security your dad had placed on you, you never actually suffer a lot in your childhood, that was until he became Iron Man. Which not only double the security but the media attention as well. You tried to keep off of it but there were moments when you were caught on camera, going to a party or walking in New York, one of those moments was holding hands with Peter when you were visiting Coney Island one October afternoon. It had been taken by fans and it was mostly blurry, so you couldn’t really see Peter’s face but the pictures where telling: you two holding hands, a peck here and there, hugs, Peter’s hand a little too low on your back. It had been a whole thing since you needed privacy in order to keep avenging without fear that someone could come for Peter or Aunt May, a cease and desist letter was involved, hell it wasn’t pretty.

“Your answer it’s telling, so I guess I can make my move now” Black Cat continued as she placed a hand on your suit, you stiffened at her touch and watched her carefully.,

“What?”, Peter asked and as she turned around to answer, you made your move.

You squatted and with one swift movement you swiped Black Cat’s legs, she quickly fell into the floor and you stood up pointing at her with your repulsor, but before you could say anything she did a side split and quickly wrapped her legs onto your whole arm, she pulled you down and you fell on the floor. You quickly gave a rolled and ended up squatting while she stood up on the other side, your mask quickly appeared on your face as Peter shoot webs to her legs but failed multiple times as she gave full turn jumps and performed leaps until one of them caught. Peter smirked as he pulled her towards him, causing her to flop on the floor with a groan while you flew where she landed attempting to immobilize her hands with vibranium bracelets, but she threw something at you as you fire one of the bracelets and it restrained one of her arms.

While Peter reinforced it with more webs but soon both of you were distracted when blue sparks started to flash from your suit and it quickly began to dematerialize. Black Cat then threw one at Peter but instead of just affecting the suit, it sent electric shocks at Peter who fell into the ground, his legs giving up, the same feeling as the day before. Suddenly, without being able to get off the floor but with enough space to move, Black Cat quickly did a candlestick and then a split, wrapping your waist in her legs and then pulling you down over her. She giggled as you fell completely over her as you still tried to wrap your head with the fact that she had made your suit retracted, but you quickly tried to fight her off by taking a whole of her free hand and pulling it in the position that Nat had taught you in order to break arms, so you didn’t bat an eye when you heard her whimpered but before you could do anything, she did a V-sit and knocked both of your heads, leaving you a bit dizzy as she changed positions.

It happened too fast, even for Peter to somehow react a little and it was too late once he removed the pin from his chest. When he intended to fire his webs and immobilize her, she was already sat on your lap, hovering over you while she held both of your arms.

“Oh yeah, I swing both ways darling” Black Cat teased Peter as she looked down at your lips and then at your eyes.

You blushed a little bit and groaned as you tried to get her off you.

Peter tried to walk towards you, but Black Cat quickly reacted by placing her index finger, the one who had the longest nails, that actually looked like a knife on your neck, pressing a little bit and you felt like it was barely puncturing your skin.

“No no handsome, Stark and I have a business to talk,” Black Cat said as she shook her head and pressed a little bit harder, a drop of blood fell from your neck and you whimpered. Peter freeze at that moment, he felt his whole body stiffened and he clenched his fists, his breath became a little short and remained quiet. “Atta’ boy” Black Cat sang as she then focused on you, removing her nail from your neck.

You sighed, knowing it wasn’t going to be easy.

“How could you damage my tech or immobilize Spider-man? Our tech is impossible, my dad created those”, you said making the effort to sound reassuring. “Plus, Spider-man’s metabolism doesn’t give up that fast so how did you create shock waves that could put him down?”

“Now we are talking business”, Black Cat said as she giggled. “How do you think I got it? I know I’m smart but not tech smart, street smart you see. Talking of smart, I thought you were smarter to know never to trust competition”

“Oh, I am smart but I’m having trouble wrapping my head around why would Osborn and Hammer want the Avengers down unless they were creating …”, and then it hit you like a train.

“…something that the Avengers would definitely shut down as soon as they saw it.” Peter blurted out as he watched you, you furrowed your brows while you looked at Peter.

“Aw, seeing you two solving mysteries together is extremely cute. I guess you do have a special someone” Black Cat grinned as she finally let go of your arms and you simply laid there on the ground as you began thinking what in the hell both of your supposed allies where thinking about it, but your thoughts quickly dissipated as you watched her purple eyes gleaming at you.

“And what do you gain with telling me this?”, you wondered as you placed your hands on her legs.

She smirked and then lean down into you, her lips ghosting yours as her eyes never left yours.

“Call me a stan, especially for you Stark, but I support you guys more and anyone who is smart enough knows better than going against The Avengers”, Black Cat accepted, and you felt shorter of breath as you realized how close she was to you, you felt electricity on your body but then…

SLASH!

Peter broke the webs and deactivated the vibranium bracelet, releasing Black Cat quickly as she pulled you away from her, holding you tightly.

Black Cat rolled her eyes as she squatted in front of you, she smirked while watching Peter who was holding you defensively. If she could see him, he was definitely glaring at her but you, you were basically in awed because she, at the end of the day, gave you a major tip on a move these two assholes where planning.

“Easy, Spider-boy we were having a moment there”, Black Cat goaded as she looked at you with her purple eyes. “If you want to work with me, you know how to find me, my name is Felicia”

Quickly she did an arch and then stood up, she winked at you before performing another backflip and then falling between the buildings.

Peter finally relaxed and let you go while you stood up and tapped your com.

“H.A.P.P.Y, check out what happened to my suit and Peter’s please and get any dirt you can find in both Hammer and Osborn” you stated as you kept gazing at Queen’s view, not stopping to think about what Black Cat or well, Felicia had said.

“Was she hitting on you? Peter asked in disbelief behind you, wrapping you in his arms and you smirked. “Now you see what I mean!” Peter finally let out from behind you and your smile, pulling his mask up and pulling him in for a kiss.

Now you knew what he meant.

_______________________________________________________________________

TAG LIST: @spideylovin​ @eridanuswave​ @featuringcone9

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Six - To Wish Impossible Things

It was the sweetness of your skin

It was the hope of all we might have been

That fills me with the hope to wish

Impossible things

The Cure - To Wish Impossible Things

It was a sunny Saturday morning, filled with sunshine and countless aromas coming from restaurants and food stands. Victor and I were visiting the bookshops in the old part of town, browsing for childcare books. Later that afternoon, we would be attending Diane’s baby shower, and despite already having bought a designer diaper bag as a gift, my mom had recommended some books that she swore would be helpful for the mother to be. And as a good friend, I would make sure Diane would get them.

I wish I could say that I was taking Diane’s pregnancy like a normal healthy person, but I knew I wasn’t. Being recently married, and knowing that I could never give Victor the child I was sure he wanted soured my soul, and all I could feel was jealousy and regret. I was happy for her, I really was. But I couldn’t help but also feel angry at the fact that this moment would never come for me, and mostly because of a lousy choice. Ten minutes was all it took to change my life forever, I concluded, as I let myself dive into a painful memory.

It was late in the afternoon when I called my mother on that nightmarish day, and even later when I went home to pack and go to my mother’s house. I had decided to leave Daniel for good, because of the child that I thought I was carrying. I wouldn’t allow him to beat me again, to reduce me to the nothingness he wanted me to be. Despite feeling incredibly weak and hopeless, I would choose strength for someone who couldn’t have it on his own, my unborn child.

However, after everything was packed, just when I was getting ready to leave, something came to mind. Bad person or not, Daniel was still the father of my child. It wasn’t right to just leave and take his child with me, without a single word. I took a pad and a pen and started writing him a goodbye letter, where I stated my reasons for leaving, and how he was still welcome in our child’s life, provided that he would follow some rules. Those ten minutes I spent carefully choosing my words and writing them down, that show of respect and kindheartedness, was the sealer of my fate. As I was getting up from our dining table, leaving the letter behind, the lock on the door turned, signaling Daniel was home.

“Is this the one you were looking for?” Victor questioned, showing me a book. I blinked at it, jarred with the sudden jump to present reality. “Are you ok?”

“Yes, that’s the one I couldn’t find.” I smiled weakly at my worried husband. “Come, let’s pay for it, I want to go get lunch.”

“Where do you want to have lunch?” Victor held my hand as we left the bookstore. “We could get some takeout sushi at that place you like.”

“You don’t care for sushi.” I smiled at him. “We can cook at home or take something else instead.”

“Alright.” Victor wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Takeout sushi it is.” He gave me a sweet look.

It was evident that Victor knew what was going on with me, and since he was never good at talking about feelings, he tried to help me the way he knew how, by acts of service. His way to show me he loved me was to always make sure I was taken care of, and pampered in ways I never deemed possible. That entailed eating sushi he didn’t really care about, taking a morning stroll through stores when he could be playing tennis, and going to baby showers when he could just make an excuse and spend his afternoon watching one of his old movies or reading.

Back at home, we happily ate our sushi, Victor unusually doing most of the talking, trying to distract me. I listened to him intently, but couldn’t find any words to say. We hadn’t gone to the baby shower yet, and I was already exhausted.

“We don’t need to go if you don’t want to.” He broke through our shared pretense that everything was fine. “I can call Goldman right away and make an excuse.”

“I want to go.” I lied. “This is important to Diane, she wants me there.”

“Andy…”

“Will you clean up the table while I go wrap the books?” I changed the subject. “Diane will get mad if we show up late.”

I went to the office, looking for the gift bag I had bought for the books. As I was wrapping them in pink satin paper, one of them fell on the floor, open. It showed the picture of a mother breastfeeding her baby. I picked the book up, noticing the article about the benefits of breastfeeding and naming some curiosities about it, like, how the taste of the milk would change according to what the mother eats, which helps the baby starting to get acquainted to new flavors, even before getting other foods. Or how the milk adapts to the needs of the infant, some studies indicating that the milk carries more antibodies and white blood cells if the baby is sick, and more serotonin by the end of the day, to help the baby sleep better.

I was marveled at how a woman’s body was so perfectly designed to take care of a baby, chemistry and hormones and instinct creating the perfect caretaker, so all the baby’s needs are met. Being a mother, being able to create and nurture life was one of the things I liked the most about being a woman. It was miraculous. I was so distracted reading that book, venturing in all the facts that composed motherhood, that I didn’t even notice Victor leaning on the doorframe, watching me.

“Are you ready?” He was watching me closely, his gaze sweet and with a hint of worry.

I immediately closed the book, wrapping it quickly before inserting it in the gift bag.

“Yes, let’s go.” I grabbed the gift bag, bolting to the door.

Our trip to Goldman’s house was silent, Victor and I both lost in thought. When he finished parking the car, he turned to me.

“We don’t have to stay here all afternoon.” He offered, taking my hand. “I can give some excuse so we leave early.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” I shrugged. I didn’t want to be that petty person who couldn’t be happy for her friend because she couldn’t have kids. And I didn’t want people to worry about me. I was a full-grown woman, I would be fine. Sometimes some things hurt, and that’s life. I just had to toughen up.

Goldman and Diane’s house was a big cloud of pink, with pink balloons, and diapers, and storks everywhere. The house was already full of people when we arrived, some from LFG, some being Diane’s and Goldman’s family members. Diane approached me with a big smile, her baby bump bigger than it was last time I saw her, a few weeks ago.

“Our favorite couple!” She hugged us both, Goldman coming right after to greet us. “Welcome! Make yourselves at home, we have plenty of food! Henry, get our CEO a drink! Andy, do you want anything?”

“Wanting to get me drunk already? Isn’t that how you made that child?” I teased, showing her my big bag with my gifts. “Here. To spoil the mom-to-be.”

“Thank you so much! It means so much to me that you guys are here!” Diane gave me a tight hug. And it looked like someone else wanted to join the party.

“I think Penny kicked me!” I smiled, charmed with her belly. “Can I touch it?”

“Of course!” Diane smiled. “She’s been excited all day, it’s like she knows there will be a party!”

“Or maybe it’s because of all the sugar you’ve been having.” Goldman offered.

I touched Diane’s pregnant belly with careful hands. Inside, there was a human being, sweet Penny, waiting to be big enough to come to this world. And she was indeed excited, jumping inside the womb, trying to poke my hands.

My husband was by my side, holding my waist lovingly, trained eyes on my hands, smiling sweetly. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was picturing that my hands were his, and Diane’s pregnant belly was mine. I felt tears coming, so I swiftly brushed the thought aside. The doorbell rang, diverting the attention from me, Diane busying herself with other guests.

“There are pink margaritas in the kitchen. Go help yourselves.”

As expected, the entire afternoon was baby-themed, from diaper changing races and sharing labor stories to the opening of gifts, and bestowing of best wishes to unborn Penny. Although I did try to have fun and relax, each activity only reminded me of what I couldn’t have, and I began to feel increasingly worse about myself. I was a bottomless pit of sadness and self-loathing: not only was I miserable because all those things were impossible for me, I felt bad for feeling that way, and not being able to fully enjoy this very important moment in my friends lives. I was a shitty person, and probably deserved everything bad that came my way.

To make matters worse, I could feel my husband’s eyes on the back of my neck, searching for any sign of distress on my part, ready to jump and act if necessary. Although I loved him to pieces for that, I was growing a little uneasy with it. If Victor was protective before, the marriage just magnified it even more. There was a part of him that was sweeter, more relaxed and open, but there was also another part of him that was borderline domineering, always wanting to know where I was, always scared to leave me to my own devices. And this time, although I knew I could count on him, although I knew he would always stand by me, I wanted to be left alone, and keep this ugliness of mine just to myself.

But this was Victor, and he was one of the most observant people I had ever met, especially if he was worried about something. After a while, he was by my side, checking up on me.

“Would you like to leave?” His hand rested lovingly on my shoulder.

I have to admit having him care for me felt good. Yes, I was admittedly a hypocrite.

I nodded, too emotionally tired to talk. Victor took my hand, pulling me from my seat.

“We should get going.” Victor apologized to Diane. “My aunt had a situation at the ranch, she needs our help.”

Despite what I predicted, knowing Diane Goldman AKA Momzilla, in less than five minutes and with only a few sentences, we were in the car, driving home. After a moment, Victor broke the silence.

“I don’t understand the need to share labor stories.” He commented, disgusted. “If anything, those should be cautionary tales, not things to share willingly at a party. I do not need to know how many stitches one can get in her… You know.” He shuddered.

Even with a heavy heart, I had to laugh at his honesty.

“That older woman was saying she broke two of her husband’s fingers while he was holding her hand.” He continued. “Everybody laughed. How on earth is that funny?”

“Imagine the birth announcement: Johnny Boy was born on day x, weighting y kilograms. Mother and baby are ok, father is severely injured.” I joked, making us both laugh.

“The whole thing was a parade of reasons not to have a baby.” Victor declared, looking shocked. “Parents not being able to have a full night’s sleep for years . Clothes being belched and puked on, poop that goes to the baby’s neck, babies peeing and spitting on their parents. How is that cute?”

“Cholics, sudden fevers, tantrums, teething.” I continued. “I remember my mother telling me that Josh and Cristina were on the verge of insanity at one point.”

“The labor itself is a mess. A woman’s vagina stretches to the point of passing a human head through it, tears, gets bloody and infected, and stitched up. Goldman is never having sex again.”

“And even if Diane is in the mood, they won’t have time for it. The baby will need them all the time.” I offered.

“In the meantime, we will be traveling, enjoying life to the fullest, and I’ll be making you scream my name in every penthouse of every luxury hotel in the world. Or in every surface or wall at our apartment. There are a few we haven’t tried yet.”

“You’re keeping count?” I chuckled.

“Who do you take me for?” Victor raised an eyebrow at me. “Of course I am.”

I laughed again.

“You know what, you are right.” I spoke with confidence. “Who says couples should have kids? Our life is pretty amazing. We both love our jobs, we have successful careers, we love each other and have amazing moments together. It’s no use to wish for impossible things. We should be counting our many, many blessings.”

“My point exactly.” Victor smiled.

I was putting the dinner’s dirty dishes in the dishwasher, back at the apartment, when the thought assaulted me again. I remembered Diane’s pregnant belly and Penny jumping inside it, trying to interact with the world outside. I imagined myself bearing that belly, and Victor’s hands caressing it, his eyes bright with joy. I pictured us putting together baby cribs, buying baby clothes, going to ultrasound appointments together. I imagined our faces as we watched our child inside me, playing with the umbilical cord or sucking her thumb. I could imagine Victor having a picture of that ultrasound next to the ones of us together on his desk.

And maybe during labor, I would hold his hand a little too tight, and end up a bloody stitched mess because of it. We would have endless stories of poop and pee, and dark circles under our eyes, but that wouldn’t matter, because every little milestone achieved in our child’s life would be like a Nobel prize to us, documented with the same pride. We would look at our child and find things from both of us, and we would love her for that. She would have Victor’s eyes or raven hair, and I would love her more because she reminded me of the man I loved. And Victor would look at her dark curls or prominent cheekbones and think of me, and he would love her more for that. She would be the testament of our love, the proof that Victor and Andrea Lee stood on this planet, and they loved each other.

Only when I saw my tears staining the black marble counter did I notice I was crying. I was wishing for impossible things, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted a child like I never wanted anything in my life, I couldn’t ignore it. And I wanted to fight for it.

I felt Victor’s arms circle my waist from behind. I turned to face him, my eyes filled with tears. He gave me a knowing look and pressed my face against his chest, silently telling me to cry it all out.

“I’m a hypocrite.” I confessed between sobs. “I do want a baby. I want to be a mother.”

“I know.” He spoke softly, tightening his grip on me, his hand on the back of my neck, caressing my hair.

“I don’t want to give up just yet.” I looked up to him, suddenly feeling steady. “I still have my ovaries, there is a lot that we can still try. Will you try with me?”

I couldn’t quite read his expression as he looked me in the eyes, pondering my question. A moment after he held me tighter again, pressing me against him again.

“Yes.” I heard his low voice rumble in his chest. “I will.”

[krreader]

MONSTA X reacting to you being gone the morning after only to be found in a different room.

pairing: monsta x x reader fandom: monsta x warnings: mentions of sex genre: fluff ; angst ; hints of smut word count: 1.4k+

a/n: heeeey babes, I hope you like it!!!

ask box | masterlists | faq | twitter | ko-fi | REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

son hyunwoo

Hyunwoo actually wouldn't have even realized that you were gone if it weren't for your laugh echoing through the apartment.

A quick look on his phone made him get up despite the early hour in the morning, wondering what the hell was going on.

And when he entered the kitchen, he found you and Changkyun chatting with a cup of tea, laughing like you were the best of friends, despite never having met each other, since you and Hyunwoo had only started dating about four weeks ago.

“Hyung, why did you never tell us about (Y/N)? She's awesome.”

“I would have,” he said, then wrapping an arm around your shoulder to, probably, prove a point, “Eventually.”

The corner of your mouth curled into a smile at how protective he suddenly was, but not even in an intimidating way, more of in a.. cute one.

Changkyun continued to smile, “I'll leave you two to it, then. It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you waited until he was gone, then you turned your head to your boyfriend, “You were a little loud last night, apparently.”

“What?! I thought nobody was home!”

“You thought wrong,” you giggled, even harder when he blushed.

shin hoseok

Hoseok didn't panic when you weren't next to him the morning after your first night together, mostly because you've been with each other long enough to know that you weren't after sex only and also, because you had been screaming your goddamn lungs out last night, so you definitely enjoyed yourself.

No, he found you standing in the kitchen and making him breakfast.

His arms wrapped around you from behind, gently beginning to kiss your neck.

“Smells good.”

“It's pancakes.”

“I meant you,” he grinned.

“Cheesy,” you turned around in his arms, a soft smile on your face, “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” he had been so exhausted, he fell asleep right afterwards. And since he did not have a schedule today, his plan was to just stay in bed with you all day long and just.. relax.

Which he deserved..

lee minhyuk

Minhyuk and you had been seeing each other for a while now, but only yesterday did you sleep with each other for the first time.

It was romantic, it was glorious and he had never had a more intense orgasm than with you last night.

But when you weren't with him the next morning, he knew that something was wrong. Call it.. intuition.

He kept telling you that you were his soulmate, so maybe that's why he always knew when you were upset or the likes.

He found you in the living room, a small tear escaping your eye and Minhyuk immediately sprinted towards you and wrapped you up in his arms.

“No, no, no, no, what's wrong? Tell me!”

“Someone must have seen us at the restaurant last night.. they took pictures and..-” you showed him.

The hate.

Not even the articles, you didn't care about those. You just saw all the hate that was suddenly directed towards you.

“(Y/N), you know how this works. This will be a thing for a few days and then everyone will have forgotten about it,” he threw the phone to the other end of the couch and pulled you closer, “Don't let them ruin our happiness, love. The haters don't deserve that.”

He was right.. of course he was. But it still took a lot of cuddles and forehead kisses to make it go away, at least temporarily.

yoo kihyun

Kihyun reached out across the bed, thinking he'd find the warmth of you that he felt so close to him last night, but instead his hand was met with cold and empty sheets.

He tried to force his eyes open, tried looking around for you while he sleepily lulled out your name a couple of times, only to hear nothing but silence in response.

Were you okay? Did something happen maybe? Last night was your first time, but he had been extremely careful, he had stopped midway when he felt your discomfort grow and you were so thankful then, told him you enjoyed it nevertheless.

So it couldn't be that.. right?

Kihyun, now a lot more awake, pushed the blankets aside and wandered through the apartment.

But he didn't have to look far, because there you were, in the living room with a bowl of cereal, a blanket draped over your legs and wide eyes when you saw him enter.

Kihyun furrowed his eyebrows, looked to the TV, then back to you.

“It's the season finale.. I couldn't wait, they uploaded it an hour ago,” you said and even though it probably wasn't intended, the way you said it made Kihyun want to squish your cheeks because of how cute and innocent you were in that moment.

He chuckled and sat down next to you, “Let's watch it together, then.”

chae hyungwon

Hyungwon wandered through the apartment like a zombie, his mind not being fully there yet, but still wanting to check on you.

He searched for you in every room, only to figure out that you were in the bathroom.

“(Y/N)?” he knocked, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.”

And what he found was you sitting in the bathtub with a book and a smile on your lips.

“Are you.. enjoying yourself?”

“Very much so,” you grinned, “I was a bit sore, so I figured this would help.”

“Is it bad?” he sat down on the edge of the tub, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“No, it's okay.. it just gave me an excuse to try your super expensive bathtub.”

Hyungwon was still tired, but the thought of getting into that bath with you awakened certain parts of him that made him get up, lock the bathroom door and then join you.

At first there were only giggles, then silence and eventually moans that could be heard from within the bathroom.

lee jooheon

Jooheon wanted to cuddle. Something that he was so excited about last night when you fell asleep in his arms, was how you would wake up in them again and how he could pull you close and..-

Nothing.

Because you weren't there.

He was so disappointed, because his immediate thought was that you had left.

And given your circumstances and your 'relationship', he would have understood.

You and Jooheon had been playing this game for months. You weren't really a thing, last night it had just ended in sex. But he liked you, more than he could ever admit to you.. for now at least. Maybe, just maybe, he had thought, that this would be a step forward in your relationship.

He laid there, wallowing in self-pity, until the door to his bedroom got opened and you walked in.

Jooheon looked at you with big eyes, whereas you just laughed.

“What's that look for?”

“I.. thought you left.”

“Left? No, I just went to the bathroom,” you chuckled, laying back down and cuddling into his side like he had wanted you to.

Maybe this was a chance after all.

im changkyun

Changkyun was upset, maybe even a little angry when you weren't there. You had told him countless of times that this wouldn't be just a one-night-stand, but maybe you had been lying all along.

He angrily made his way into the living room where he had left his phone last night, only to stop when he heard your voice. You were talking to someone.. on the phone maybe?

“Is there nobody else that can do it? I'm.. a little busy today,” a moment of silence, “No, sir, I understand, it's just..- Yes, sir. I'll be there.”

And when you turned around with a sigh, you saw Changkyun standing there.

“What's going on?”

“My boss,” you said with a sad smile, “Even on my day off he needs me.”

“So you didn't just leave because of last night?”

“What? No!” you immediately took three big steps until you were right in front of him and could wrap your arms around his neck, “What I said last night was the truth. I want this to work.. but I just.. have responsibilities, just like you do.”

“I get that,” he nodded with a sigh, “Maybe stop by later tonight? We could have dinner together?”

“That sounds good.. very good.”

[st-crylo]

Rebound

Part 2

A/N: I’m gonna try to keep this updated weekly, especially since the response to it has been so good :,). Thank you guys so much, I really appreciate y’all for taking time to read my fics!!

Warnings: mostly just swearing, alcohol mention, tobacco use, infidelity

Word Count: 6.2K

Tagging:@haylaansmi @nankstasty @thomasscresswell

Masterlist

As you walked through the door, you saw your mom waiting for you in the kitchen, reading some article in a magazine. When she heard the door close, she looked up and smiled at you.

“How was the first day back?” she asked, a little too enthusiastically.

“Not terrible. Made some new friends,” you replied before heading up the stairs to your room, trying to avoid any more questions. You didn’t want to have to lie to your mom about the new friends you’d made, especially since she saw Kylo how everyone else did. 

Closing the door to your room, you heaved a sigh before throwing your backpack onto the ground, and plopping down on your bed, pulling out your phone to see an email. Curious, you opened the notification, then groaned when you saw who the sender was.

(y/n), we really need to talk. I understand that you probably have me blocked, so I had to go to drastic measures. As much as there is I want to say to you, a lot of it can’t be said over an email. However, I do think you should know that I really don’t think you should be hanging out with Ben Solo. He’s not the kind of person someone like you should hang around, and he’s nothing more than a common criminal. I’m only looking out for you. I love you, Shawn.

You wanted to throw your phone across the room, scream at the top of your lungs, and maybe break something. The rage inside you was boiling hot, and you felt like a kettle, left on the stove too long. What kind of desperate asshole decides an email is a great way to contact the girl you cheated on? Why did he even expect a response from you? Most importantly, how dare he claim to love you. The whole thing had you heated, but you held your composure as you deleted the email, and pulled the little slip of paper with Kylo’s number on it out. 

You stared at the number, and thought about Kylo’s idea. If you were being completely honest, Shawn’s email made you consider it more seriously. After all, it was obvious that the idea of you even hanging around Kylo set something off in him. If the two of you were to “date,” he would probably lose his shit. Admittedly, the idea of watching Shawn implode like that would be kinda fun. 

At the same time, you didn’t know this person. Not Kylo, you’d known him so long, even though today seemed more like a reintroduction instead of a reunion. No, you weren’t sure you knew who you were. You’d never wished ill upon someone like this, and certainly never considered going through with something so major in order to upset someone. That had never really been your style, and you’d always looked down at people who did stuff like that.

But did you really know yourself at all?

You’d been with Shawn for three years, all of high school, really. Those were the most formative years of your life, and they’d been shaped by your boyfriend. Were you really this suburban good girl, who only had good friends, had never even been to a high school party, and certainly never rebelled against even her parents? Or were those things that Shawn had shaped you to be? After all, the more you thought about it, the more you realised his opinions had affected a lot of the way you acted. So now, you were left at an impasse. Were you really who you’d acted as your first three years of high school, or were you someone else entirely that you’d never gotten to discover?

You created a contact for Kylo on your phone, and typed up a message.

What exactly would us “dating” entail?

You started at the screen of your phone as you watched the dots appear as Kylo started texting back. There was a little bit of anxiety in your chest, but the idea of “dating” Kylo filled you with a sense of thrill as well. 

We wouldn’t be “dating” right away. We’d pretend to flirt for a while and then start dating. Do basic couple shit at school, but especially wherever him or his little friends can see.

Made sense. It wouldn’t be smart to jump straight to dating, that would be too suspicious. Admittedly, you weren’t entirely sure how to flirt, but you were sure you could get some advice somewhere. You pulled up your keyboard to respond.

We should also make sure to go on dates, too. That way, we can convince your parents we’re dating too. 

After all, Kylo had to have something in it as well, and he said he wanted to convince his parents he was improving. 

Shit, I forgot about that. I’ll have to bring you around Gran and Granpa too, if that’s okay with you.

Yeah, that’s fine. 

So is that a yes?

You thought for a moment. Was this really the decision you wanted to make? Then, you thought about the picture, and thought about the email.

Hell yeah.

***

The next morning, you didn’t have to fight so hard to get out of bed. You actually took the time to throw on some jeans instead of leggings. Most importantly, your heart didn’t feel so heavy. It was like you finally had an inkling of hope in the form of revenge. Looking out of your bedroom window, you noticed how the sky was still overcast, but there was no rain. However, just to be on the safe side, you threw on your jacket and made sure to bring your umbrella. 

Walking down the steps, you peeked into the kitchen from the top of the stairs, making sure the coast was clear before continuing your descent. Your dad was there, sipping his morning coffee and reading something on his phone, but your mom was nowhere in sight. Letting out a small sigh of relief, you continued down the stairs, noticing your lunch bag and a small note on the island.

“Morning, (y/n),” your dad said, not looking up from his phone. 

“Morning,” you responded before picking up the note. 

Morning, dear. I had to head to work early today, but I went ahead and packed your lunch. Have a good day at school! Love, mom.

A small frown pulled the corners of your mouth down a little. You loved your mom, but she had been trying too hard to cheer you up instead of letting you simply wallow in your misery for a couple of days. You neatly folded the note and put it in your pocket before taking your lunch off the counter. 

“Bye, dad,” you said as you headed for the front door. Your dad gave you a final wave goodbye before you opened the door, heading out into the world.

Unsurprisingly, Kylo was sitting there, presumably waiting for you as he leaned against the back of his Mustang, smoking his morning cigarette. He must’ve been out there for a while, because he dropped the butt onto the ground before stomping it out and picking it back up. When he came back up, he noticed you and smiled.

“Want another ride?” He asked, standing straight and running a hand through his long hair. 

“Beats walking,” you said, walking up to the Skywalker driveway and climbing into the car as Kylo threw his cigarette butt away. Kylo climbed in next, starting the car as soon as he closed the door.  

“So my uncle told Gran and Granpa that you and I have been hanging out,” Kylo started as he pulled out of the driveway. “Can you believe they already want you over for dinner?”

You shook your head with a smile on your face. Even though they were your next door neighbors, you hadn’t really spoken to Kylo’s grandparents. “Sounds like fun. When?”

“Friday,” Kylo responded

You simply nodded in response before staring out of the passenger window. Then, you remembered.

“Do you want to hear about something Shawn sent to me yesterday?” you asked, turning to Kylo. He furrowed his brows in confusion as he glanced at you from his peripherals. 

“Did you not block him?” he asked, the same confusion he wore on his face mixed into his tone.

“No, I did. He sent me this through email, if you can believe it,” you said.

“Go ahead, I’m all ears,” he replied.

You recalled the contents of the email to the best of your ability, and as you did, you watched Kylo’s knuckles slowly turn white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. 

“And after all of that, he has the nerve to say he loves me? After everything he’s put me through, he has the balls to say he loves me? Apparently not, if he’s perfectly okay sticking his tongue down some other girl’s throat,” you said with an angry huff, as tears threatened to fall. They weren’t sad tears, however. No, these were the tears of pure unbridled rage that only became realized when you talked about the situation out loud. It was weird, but admittedly the feeling was welcome. You were tired of being sad, and angry was a much better improvement. At least with anger you could stop moping around.

“I hate that shit,” Kylo commented as he stopped at the red light at the end of the neighborhood. “They always try to tell you they love you, but if they loved you they wouldn’t have cheated in the first place. Fuck that.” 

“My sentiments exactly.” There was another good thing about Kylo; he could relate to you. You knew that none of your friends had ever been cheated on before, so it was a lot harder to talk to them about it. Kylo, though, he knew the pain, the resentment, everything. He would know exactly how you were feeling and not make any judgments-not that he would do it whether or not he’d experienced it anyways. It was such a different change of scenery, it was honestly refreshing. 

Not that you didn’t love your friends, you treasured them dearly. There was just something about knowing someone who’d had the same experiences as you.

The light turned green and Kylo drove forward into the school parking lot, maneuvering into his spot. When he placed the car in park, there was a small ding from his phone, and he grabbed it, checking the notification.

“Milo’s gonna drop Sami and Alan off, so they’re gonna hang with us before class. Means you can meet Milo,” Kylo said before texting a reply. You didn’t know why, but you had a really good feeling about Milo. After all, he was a friend of Kylo’s. 

It was about five minutes later when a grey Honda Civic pulled up beside the two of you. Needless to say, that was not what you were expecting. You watched as Sami and Alan stepped out of the Honda Civic, followed by who you assumed was Milo.

He was maybe an inch taller than Kylo, his hair bleached white with dark brown barely peeking out at the roots of his hair. He had a cigarette between his lips, and you wondered if that was where Kylo had picked up the habit. When Kylo rolled down your window, he leaned against the car and peered in through the window while Alan and Sami climbed into the backseat behind the driver’s seat. Once they were in the back, Kylo set the seat back, settling in and closing the door. 

“You must be (y/n),” he said, holding out his hand to you. You shook his hand and smiled up at him.

“That’s me,” you answered before dropping your hand onto your lap. 

“So, are we still on for Friday?” Milo asked, turning to Kylo. Kylo frowned before letting out a sigh.

“Shit, I forgot. Told my grandparents that me and (y/n) would have dinner with them. If you wanna go later though, I can probably sneak out,” Kylo responded, running a hand through his hair.

“That’s fine, just don’t get caught. Wanna come along too, (y/n)? Sami, Alan, Phasma, and Pat are coming,” Milo said, turning back to you.

“Where exactly?” you asked, turning to Kylo.

“Jordan’s place, she graduated with Milo. She’s having a kickback before heading to Coruscant for college,” Kylo explained.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you started, a little uncomfortable about being invited to the house of someone you didn’t know.

“If you go, Kylo might not have to sneak out,” Sami suggested from the back. “Besides, Jordan’s really chill, I think you’d like her.”

“How would her going with me make it to where I don’t have to sneak out?” Kylo asked, turning around to face Sami.

“Well, no one really expects (y/n) to go to a party. She could just tell your grandparents that the two of you are going to study,” Sami offered. As you thought it over, it was a pretty decent idea. You didn’t really have the party reputation, and everyone knew it. 

“I’m game,” you answered. Kylo looked at you with a look of surprise, but simply shrugged as he pulled out a cigarette from the box.

“Sick. I’ll see you Friday then. I gotta go, I have a shift in thirty minutes. See ya, Alan, bye babe!” Milo said before blowing a kiss to Sami. She smiled back at him and waved goodbye as he climbed back into his car, driving off out of the parking lot.

“Oh, (y/n), you might wanna tell your parents you’re staying at my place on Friday night,” Sami said as Kylo lit his cigarette. “Jordan usually has drinks at her ‘kickbacks.’” You nodded as you looked back at her.

“So did he ask you yet?” came Alan’s voice, his eyes refusing to leave the screen of his phone.

“As a matter of fact,” Kylo said after taking the first drag of his cig. “I did. Me and (y/n) are planning to ‘date.’ And Sami thought I wouldn’t have the balls.” He blew the smoke out of the window, before taking another drag.

“I never said that,” Sami said with a frown. “I just said that your explanation of your plan seemed a little lacking. I’m glad you agreed, though, (y/n). Shawn’s a piece of shit.” 

“You’re telling me,” you said as you let out a sigh. “Can’t wait to see the look on his smug little face when I start ‘dating’ someone he hates. Wasn’t aware that Kylo shared his plan with everyone, though.” A small flush arose in Kylo’s cheeks, and he didn’t make eye contact with you.

“You would be surprised, when he’s not being an emo prick, he won’t shut the fuck up,” Alan added, looking up with a smirk. Kylo looked back at him with his brows furrowed. 

“Like you’re one to talk,” Kylo huffed out. He finished up the last of his cigarette before checking the clock. It was 8:00 already.

“Shit, let’s get going, punks,” Sami said, lightly kicking the back of Kylo’s seat.

“Fuck, I’m getting out. Hand me my bag,” Kylo said as he tossed the cigarette butt into the car’s ashtray. Without warning, a black backpack went flying towards Kylo and hit him on the chest. “Fuck you, Sami.” He grabbed his bag by the straps and stepped out of the car, bringing the seat forward so Sami and Alan could climb out. You stepped out of the car and closed the door behind you, putting your backpack onto your shoulders while you waited for everyone to step out. Kylo walked forward first and you fell into step beside him.

As the four of you walked into the building, you could feel people turn to stare at you, and you remembered your reputation. You weren’t the kind of girl to hang out with Kylo Ren and his ilk, you were one of the good girls. A small voice in the back of your head resented that. 

Alan split off pretty quickly, bidding his farewell before heading to his first class. Sami was next, saying she wanted to be early to art, so she said her goodbye before speeding away. 

“Guess I’ll see you at lunch,” Kylo said as the two of you parted, and you headed for your econ class. 

Much like yesterday, the pace of which your first two classes moved was painfully slow. You weren’t surprised, the first day of actual class was horrible, but you tried to stay focused and take notes. Whenever you got distracted, though, you kept thinking about the plan you and Kylo had established. It felt like the perfect revenge, “dating” someone Shawn hated. However, the more you thought about it, the more you wondered why exactly Shawn hated Kylo. Kylo had said it was because he’d punched Shawn, but you felt like there was something there that you were missing, some truth that Kylo didn’t want to say.

You couldn’t worry about it too much, though. It was Kylo’s business, and you didn’t want to pry if he didn’t want to tell you exactly what had happened. You definitely weren’t going to go to Shawn for the reason, and you doubted that Shawn would tell you the truth anyways, so it would have to remain an unsolved mystery in your mind. 

Lunch could not have come sooner, and as you flowed into the cafeteria with the rest of the people who had third lunch, you looked around for your new group of friends. You saw Phasma first, who waved at you to come over to her. As you walked closer, you watched as she stepped out to the outdoor seating, and you followed, noticing everyone else sitting there too. There were only a handful of other groups outside as well, so it was much more quiet and calm than being in the loud cafeteria. 

“Man, Mr. Jinn’s class is kicking my ass,” you heard Alan say as you sat down between Phasma and Kylo.

“How, it’s only the second day of classes?” Phasma asked before biting into a roll. 

“Have you ever had Mr. Jinn’s class, Phasma?” Kylo asked, putting a bookmark in the book he was reading.

“No.”

“Then don’t say shit. He’s a cool guy, but damn he gives a lot of homework. Alan, if you need help, don’t come to me,” Kylo said, leaning against the table. Alan frowned as he looked up at Kylo.

“Wow, thanks, Kylo, you’re such a hero,” he quipped. 

“So, (y/n), how was the beginning of your second day?” Sami asked, pushing aside her untouched lunch as she leaned forward to talk to you.

“It was alright, but I’m getting tired of people staring at me,” you responded. Even though you’d tried your hardest to focus, the whispers were still hard to ignore. It almost felt like you were being punished for Shawn’s actions.

“People don’t know how to mind their own goddamn business,” Phasma stated. “They just want shit to gossip about. When you’re not the fresh gossip anymore, they’ll all but forget you exist.” 

“I can’t wait for that to happen. I’m tired of hearing rumors about something involving me. Especially since I basically don’t know shit,” you admitted. This caused Sami to raise her eyebrows.

“How do you mean? If you don’t mind, of course.” For a second, you pondered on whether or not you wanted to talk about it, but your doubt washed away pretty quickly. It was amazing how comfortable you felt around these people. You did look around the courtyard though, to make sure there was no one there that you didn’t want to hear what you were talking about. When you decided the coast was clear, you let out a sigh before you spoke.

“Well, on Thursday, I was sent a picture,” you started, feeling the pang in your chest, but not as fiercely as you did yesterday. “It was of Shawn making out with some girl. I’m guessing it was one of his friends who sent it to me, but it wasn’t from a number I had saved. I’m also assuming that whoever it was that sent the picture also sent it to a lot of people. I got a lot of messages that night from people I’d maybe spoken to once about what happened, but the thing is, I don’t know what happened. I didn’t want Shawn’s explanation, because I didn’t think he’d be truly honest, and I wasn’t sure who to ask about it. Shawn’s friends would probably defend him.”

Sami’s face turned to one of deep thought, as if she was trying to solve some kind of puzzle. 

“Did you think about texting the sender?” Alan asked. When he said it, you felt kind of dumb for not thinking about it.

“I did not,” you admitted.

“I can write something up for you,” Sami offered. “That way you don’t have to look at the picture again.” You shrugged, and handed your phone to Sami, who took it in her hands, bringing it close to her face. She tapped on what you assumed was the conversation with the sender, and for a moment, you could have sworn there was shock in her eyes. If it had been there, it didn’t last, as her face instantly went back to the one of thought. She hesitated a moment, then started typing away.

“How does this sound: Hey, I want to thank you for sending this. Do you mind telling me how you came upon this picture?” She said aloud.

“Yeah, that sounds fine,” you said. Sami tapped the screen again, sending the message, before handing your phone back to you. A part of you felt a little anxious. On the one hand, you wanted to know the story behind the photo, but at the same time, you wanted to remain willfully ignorant. It mostly branched from a fear inside you that he’d been cheating for a long time. 

However, the rest of lunch passed, and you hadn’t received any messages. While it was a little relieving, it still added on to the anxiety that had settled in the pit of your stomach. You tried to ignore it though, as you and Kylo headed to physics, the two of you walking in a comfortable silence. 

When you got to Mr. Windu’s class, the two of you took your seats, while people whispered from around the room.

“Can you believe she’s hanging out with him now?”

“She really shouldn’t lower her standards like that just because of what happened.”

The last one had you whipping around, trying to find the person who said it. Everyone looked away when you did, though, so there was no clear suspect, but it didn’t prevent you from glaring at everyone around the room. At least, you did until you saw Shawn walk in. Once you caught even the slightest glimpse out of the corner of your eye, you turned back around, boiling in your anger.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kylo said softly, unbothered by the whispers. “I’m the town disappointment, of course they’re going to say that.” You looked up at Kylo and frowned. 

“What makes them so holy to pass judgement like that? I’m sure they’ve all done fucked up shit too, their parents just aren’t as in the spotlight as yours,” you huffed out as Mr. Windu began to take roll. 

When Mr. Windu’s lecture started, you were your normal studious self, taking detailed notes and making sure to get any equations down. Every once in a while, you would look over to Kylo’s notes and noticed the bare minimum of notes being taken. At one point, you looked at him incredulously. He simply shrugged before writing in the margins of your notes.

I’ve always been good at science. You let out a small huff of air before writing back.

Lucky. Kylo smiled before looking back up at the board, where Mr. Windu was writing another equation. 

When the bell rang, you quickly shoved your stuff into your backpack, and waited for Kylo so the two of you could get to fourth block. Once Kylo had his stuff packed, the two of you were off. You were free, at least that was what you thought. The notion of freedom disappeared when you felt a hand on your shoulder, causing you to stop in your tracks, and for Kylo to stop as well. Turning around, you had to resist the incredible urge to punch Shawn in the face.

“You haven’t been responding to my messages,” he stated. He was obviously trying to sound hurt, but you could hear that hint of anger in his voice. It was something you were familiar with, but it was weird for it to be directed at you.

“Fuck off, Alvarez,” Kylo said, stepping forward, his figure looming over you. You looked up at Kylo and shook your head. 

“I don’t remember asking your opinion, Solo,” Shawn said, trying to puff out his chest. It was kind of funny to see, honestly, because he was at least six inches shorter than Kylo. Despite how funny a part of you found Shawn’s response, though, you stepped between them. 

“Have you considered that the reason I haven’t responded to you is because I don’t give a fuck about what you have to say?” You finally said, crossing your arms as you looked at Shawn. Looking at him straight on like this for the first time in a week was causing your stomach to churn, and your heart to clench, but you were tired, in every sense of the word. You just wanted to be left alone to deal with your emotions, and not have him harassing you every three seconds.

“You have to let me explain myself-” he started, but you let out a laugh, one of those laughs that dripped of sarcasm and anger.

“I don’t have to let you do shit. You cheated on me, end of story. Please, just leave me alone,” you said before turning around and walking off. After a few seconds, you heard Kylo begin to follow you, catching up to you with ease and falling into step beside you, not saying a word. You appreciated that, as you were trying your hardest not to cry. As much as you thought your anger had taken over your sadness, it was really just a blanket. At this moment, it felt like you were shriveling from the inside, and anything said to you would immediately cause you to start sobbing. It was a special kind of hurt, being cheated on. So many emotions ran through your head, but the one that remained in your heart always lingered; why weren’t you enough?

The two of you walked into fourth block not but two minutes before the bell rang. You took the same seat you sat in yesterday, and settled in your seat, breathing deeply to keep yourself calm. You saw Sami and Phasma both look at Kylo, confused looks on their faces. Kylo merely shook his head before pulling out a notebook. Taking one final deep breath, you did the same, sitting straight as you waited for Mr. Skywalker to call roll.

Once he’d done so, he picked up a crate, placing it on the desk nearest to him.

“Alright, go ahead, come up, and grab your copy of Beowulf,” he said.

“I’ll get them.” Kylo said as he stood, walking up to the crate and waiting behind your other classmates as he waited to grab the books. When he came back, he handed a book to each of you, and you gave him a half smile. It was all you could really manage, but Kylo matched it with a little more enthusiasm than you. 

Once everyone had their books, Mr. Skywalker decided to go into the history of Beowulf. However, during his explanation, you began to zone out. You really just wanted to go home, curl up in your room, and sleep until tomorrow came. You did feel a hand tap you, and you turned to Kylo, who was holding out a slip of paper to you, while keeping his eyes on the board. You took the folded paper from his hand, and opened it up. On the paper were two phone numbers, the top one being Phasma’s, and the lower being Sami’s. You typed both into your phone and sent a simple “hey” to each number. Sami responded back.

You okay?

With a sigh, you started typing on your keyboard.

Yeah, just had a run-in with my ex. You watched Sami out of the corner of your eye as she read your message and responded.

Shit, I’m sorry. She then sent a picture of a ridiculously fat cat, which actually did make you smile. 

The rest of class passed by pretty quickly, even after the class started the beginning of the poem aloud, which, like anyone else, you had to admit was the worst part of class. When Mr. Skywalker had decided the class had done enough reading, everyone began to pack up as they waited for the final bell to ring to let them out of class. Phasma and Sami both turned around in their seats to strike conversation for the last few minutes of class. 

“Glad that’s over,” Phasma said, frowning. “Why do we have to read aloud in the first place?”

“Torture,” Sami said sagely. “We’re meant to suffer.”

“Pretty sure it’s so that people can gain confidence reading aloud and speaking in front of a crowd,” Kylo said as he leaned back in his seat, looking at his phone.

“What academic input, truly an improvement for such a delinquent,” Phasma quipped, causing Kylo to look up from his phone, eyebrows raised, before returning to staring at the screen. “So, I heard you’re coming to Jordan’s on Friday.” Phasma now turned to you.

“Yeah. I’m actually pretty excited,” you said, leaning forward to feel more present in the conversation. 

“As you should be, Jordan knows how to have fun,” Sami said, making herself sound like an expert in the subject of Jordan. You laughed as the bell rang, standing up and stretching before slinging your backpack onto your shoulder. You watched as Finn, Poe, Rey, and Rose all walked by, waving at you as they went. You waved back to each of them, but frowned a little once they’d passed. You hadn’t really spoken to them much since Thursday, and you felt kinda bad about it. You would talk to them tonight, you decided. 

Soon, the four of you filed out of the classroom, walking at a comfortable pace as Kylo and Phasma walked together, talking about skating. You and Sami walked side by side in silence, until Sami leaned closer to you, so that the two in front of you couldn’t hear.

“I think I know who the girl in the picture is. Text me when you get home,” she said before drifting away again. You felt your chest tighten, but you only nodded, deciding to change the subject.

“I’m gonna tell my mom I’m staying at your place Friday night when I get home. She’s a little weird about sleepovers, so she might want to talk to you,” you said as your group reached the front of the school. 

“Hey, I can probably just tell my grandparents that the three of us are gonna study at your place,” Kylo offered. 

“Yeah, that works. After all, I am the only one of your friends who hasn’t wound up with the title ‘delinquent,’” Sami quipped. Kylo gave a frown in response, before stopping in front of the entrance to the school. 

“Well, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Kylo said. The two of you waved goodbye before heading to Kylo’s car. There was silence at first as the two of you climbed into the car, and Kylo started the engine, but it was broken with a sigh from Kylo.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. If Shawn’s just gonna harass you for even being around me, it isn’t really worth it,” he said, pulling out of his parking spot. You couldn’t help but let out your own sigh.

“That’s not the reason he’s harassing me,” you started. “He’s harassing me because he thinks he can still control me, and convince me that he didn’t mean it. Honestly, the easiest way to get him to leave me alone is if we stick to the plan.” It was a frustrating realization, but it was certainly true. If Shawn thought you had moved on, he was probably more likely to leave you alone. Sure, he’d probably have some choice words to say about you, but you seriously doubted that he’d say them to your face. 

The rest of the drive home was spent with the music loud, Kylo occasionally singing along softly. When the two of you pulled into the driveway, you waited before stepping out, and turned to Kylo.

“Thanks for sticking up for me again. You really don’t have to do that,” you said. Kylo shook his head and ran a hand through his ebony hair.

“You’re my friend, (y/n). I’ll always stick up for you,” he responded before turning the car off. You gave him a small smile before opening the door.

“See you in the morning,” you said before stepping out.

“See ya, bright and early,” he responded with a smirk. You shook your head as you turned to head to your house.

Upon walking in the door, you saw your mom sitting at the dining room table. She was looking at what looked to be some documents from work, but she looked up when you closed the door, and gave you a warm smile. 

Here goes, you thought to yourself before returning her smile, and walking up to the table.

“How was your day, honey?” she asked, shifting her attention to you. 

“It was good. Actually, my friend Sami invited me to stay at her place on Friday,” you responded. You actually felt a lot of anxiety in your chest, but you were trying your hardest not to let it show. You’d never really lied to your parents like this before, and it was strange for that to start your senior year, but you actually really wanted to go. The opportunity to hang out with your new set of friends, not to mention Kylo, was so exciting.

“Oh, is this that new friend you were talking about yesterday?” she asked. It almost looked like there was a great deal of happiness in her eyes. They practically lit up, and you couldn’t really say you blamed her. After all, after you’d gotten home on Thursday, you had shut yourself in your room, refusing to come out. Making new friends and being invited to one of their houses? It was definitely an upgrade. 

“Yeah. She’s really cool, and she’s trying to get into art school,” you said, smiling at your mom.

“Alright, but I want you to message me throughout the night. Are you gonna head home with her that night?” Your heart dropped at that. You hadn’t mentioned anything about Kylo- obviously- and you were supposed to be having dinner with the Skywalkers on Friday as well. There really was no point in lying about that, it would be too easy to get caught.

“Actually, I’m supposed to have dinner with the Skywalkers next door that night, too. I’ve been getting rides from Ben, and his grandparents invited me to dinner,” you said, waiting for shit to hit the fan. Surprisingly, your mother’s face didn’t turn red, but she did frown.

“I don’t know about you hanging around with Ben Solo…” you could tell she was trying to be delicate, but there was no mistaking in her voice that she felt the same way about him that all the parents did. You knew another lie was needed in this scenario too.

“He has been giving me rides, and they really just want us to be friends because they think I’ll make him be a little more responsible. But he did offer to take me to Sami’s house too. I promise, when I get there, I’ll take a picture with Sami and send it to you,” you said. You could see the cogs turning over in her head as she thought it over. When she finally let out a sigh, you knew she had relented.

“Alright, but I want to see you after dinner, before you leave for Sami’s, okay?” she said. You smiled and nodded before turning on your heels, heading for the stairs.

“I’m gonna go ahead and get started on dinner,” she called as you practically skipped up the stairs. 

When you got into your room, you let your backpack fall to the ground before plopping onto your bed and pulling your phone. You had two messages. One was from Sami, and you remembered what she had told you earlier. With a pang in your chest, your excitement for Friday extinguished, you decided to look at the other message.

It was from the sender of the picture.

[atths--twice]

Onto the next chapter! I hope you are all enjoying this new journey. : ) 

The Sixth Month 2b/6

Chapter Two 

A Houseful of Memories 

At a request from Scully, Mulder makes a stop and picks up some things from the past. 

Walking out of the elevator, they were both still smiling. Mulder gripped her hand in his and headed back outside. Back to the afternoon heat, although it felt a bit cooler. He felt so happy. So at ease.

The baby was fine, Scully was fine and apparently he had some insatiable sex to look forward to again. God, when she was pregnant last time, she had been an absolute animal when it came to sex. Their sex life had been amazing right up until he had been abducted and then presumed dead.

That put a damper on the old libido, he thought with a smile.

But when he came back, after being dead for months, he had felt out of place. Like he did not belong. He was even unsure of the paternity of the baby and not sure how to broach the subject. The IVF had failed, how was she pregnant?

Until she had sat him down, told him he was being a fucking asshole, that she knew he had been through a lot, but so had she, and he needed to knock it the fuck off, did he understand how angry she had been. Angry and so scared. They had not been them and finally she had reached her breaking point. They had talked, really talked. About the baby, about everything.

After that night, they had started getting back on track. Things were better. They had gone back to touching and kissing, but not until the Lamaze class did they really fall back into the sexual aspect of their relationship. Boy, did they ever. And now he had that to look forward to again? He was older, but he was most definitely up to the challenge.

He looked at her, at her radiant smile, the afternoon sun shining behind her and lighting her up. She smiled as she caught his eye, squeezing his hand, and holding his arm with her other hand. The wind blew and she closed her eyes. Happy. She was so happy.

“So, how about we head home, make something delicious for dinner, and see where the night takes us?” Mulder said, as they got closer to the hospital.

She smiled. That sounded great, but she was about to throw a wrench in those plans. A big one.

“Mulder, I have to get back to the hospital for a little bit. There are some things I need to check on before I leave for the weekend. Just a few things. I should be home about seven, eight at the latest,” she said, giving him an apologetic look.

“Oh. Well, that’s okay. I can head home and pick something up on the way. Do you want me to get something to make or pick something up?” he asked as held her hands in his.

“Well, it’s almost 4:00 now, and I have a favor to ask of you. Kind of a big one. You can say no, but I would really appreciate it if you did it," she said, with a hopeful look.

“I’m all ears, Scully. At your beck and call. You can bend me to your will. I am your willing servant.” He grinned cheekily at her.

“You good?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. He smiled and bowed his head. “Okay. So, I stopped by my mom’s house yesterday.”

He squeezed her hands, knowing that she stopped by there sometimes. Mrs. Scully had left the house to Scully when she died. They were still going through the stuff at her house. Pictures, boxes of memories, old outdated clothes, furniture. All of it held meaning to Scully.

“I was walking around, looking at things. Maybe some things I’d like to move to our house. Some photos, maybe some things that could go in the babies room... I don’t know. But, I found some boxes with my name on them. I don’t know what’s in them and I didn’t want to lift them. But, Mulder, I’d like to have them and see what's inside.” She smiled a sad smile and he touched her cheek.

“You want me to stop over and get them for you? That’s not a problem at all Scully. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it. I think there are like five, maybe six at most. I’m pretty sure they will all fit in your car.”

“Well, if they don’t I can make another trip. If it makes you happy Scully, then I’m happy to do it.” He cupped her face and kissed her, then pulled her in for a hug.

“Oh, I need to get you the key,” she said as she pulled back, her eyes a little wet.

“No need, I have one,” he said showing it to her on his key ring.

“When did you get a key?” she asked surprised that he had one. Usually if he went, he was with her and she used hers.

“Your mom gave me one years ago,” he said. “Didn’t you know that she did? In case she needed something or.. if I did. To talk or just visit.” He looked sad and she pulled him to her. They held each other, both with their own memories of her, but both mourning a mother. One from birth, the other from respect and then love.

She pulled back and kissed his cheek, letting go of him and walking back to the hospital. She turned and looked at him just before she walked inside and smiled.

A little while later, he pulled up to Mrs. Scully’s house. He sat in the car, at the curb, and stared at it. He had not been completely honest with Scully. Coming here was not really something he liked to do, especially by himself. It made him feel sadness in a different way than being in his own parents homes.

He had to deal with his parents estates when they passed. A lot of the items he donated, some he put in storage, but anytime he was there, he could not wait to leave. Too many unhappy ghosts running around in the house to make him feel any ease.

Scully had come with him a couple of times years ago. She helped him sort through which things he would keep, though most of the time he had just shrugged his shoulders and she had to make a guess. He did not have memories tied to items like Scully did. His memories were dark and mostly sad, not exactly something that would look nice hanging on a wall.

But being here, at Mrs. Scully’s, he had felt the love he had missed out on as a child. Felt accepted and his presence had been welcomed. He stared at the house and told himself to stop being such a pussy. He got out of the car and walked into the house.

The air inside was stale and warm and he hated it. It felt all wrong. Mrs. Scully’s house had always smelled inviting and welcoming, a floral smell that was never too heavy.

He stood in the foyer, looking into the sitting room. He had paced that room when Scully had been missing. He had shown up at odd hours, unable to sleep, to concentrate on anything but finding her. Mrs. Scully had always let him in, no matter the time. She had sat silently in her chair and listened to him rant, watched him as he paced. She did not try to offer him comfort, not at first. He needed to let it out and she knew he needed to do it.

He would eventually tire out and fall to the floor, crying, apologizing to her. She never yelled, never got angry with him. She would come to him and hold him as he cried. She would murmur her comfort then, offer her strength to him, but he would never accept it. This was his punishment and he deserved it. If his past taught him anything, it was how to take on the pain and suffering. How to accept the punishment.

He stepped further into the room and stood exactly where he had when Scully was suffering from mind control. When she thought he was the enemy. Mrs. Scully had stood by his side and then in front of him. Protecting him, as well as Scully. If Scully had shot him, Mulder knew she would have never forgiven herself. Her mother knew that, too. She knew that offering herself in Mulder’s place, would be enough to give Scully pause. To make her give up and see reason.

He felt tears in his eyes as he remembered the image of Mrs. Scully walking to Scully and holding her as she crumbled. That image would be burned in his mind forever. The power of a mother’s love.

He kept walking in further. The dining room table where they had so many meals. Where they played Scrabble. Mrs. Scully laughing as he and Scully got into an argument over acceptable words. She would drink a glass of wine and watch them bicker until one of them would cave and move on.

The kitchen where Mrs. Scully made the most delicious food. She always had enough to feed an army, making sure Mulder had as much as he wanted, and sending them home with leftovers, every time. That food had been his sustenance when Scully was at the hospital working long shifts. He would come out of his office, starving from missing meals as he pored over articles. Finding those little containers of plastic ware full of delicious food, had kept him going. His heart ached as he realized he never quite properly thanked her for that.

He walked back toward the front door and up the stairs. The upstairs bathroom held a special memory. He had come up there to escape Bill one year. Bill had been poking at him all night. Jabs about his job at the FBI, or his past one, seeing as he did not have a job anymore. How was Mulder going to provide for his sister? What was his plan?

Scully had jumped in and told Bill to shut his fucking mouth. She was a doctor and she did not need anyone to “take care of her," had not needed it for years. Bill had yelled back that she was wasting her life with a fucking loser like Mulder. And then Scully had slapped him. Hard.

Mulder had quietly slipped away, catching Mrs. Scully’s eye. Not because he was scared or weak, but because he did not want to cause a problem in her home. He had wanted to punch Bill in the face and he knew coming upstairs was a better choice. He had been pacing in the bathroom when someone knocked three times. Scully.

He opened the door and she shoved her way in. Her eyes were blazing and she was angrier than he had ever seen her. She had paced and then grabbed him and pulled his face to hers. She kissed him roughly, their teeth and tongues clashing. She had pushed him back and hopped up on the counter. She had pulled him to her and locked her legs around him, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him back to her. He had rounded second and was going for third, when someone else had knocked on the door.

Mrs. Scully’s voice had come through the door telling them it was time for dessert. Mulder had waggled his eyebrows at Scully and she grinned. She had called to her mother they would be down in a minute, as Mulder helped her down. As she had stepped past him, she brushed her fingers over his crotch, making him jump. She had whispered she would take care of that later and began to readjust her clothes; getting her breasts back in her bra, tucking in her shirt, smoothing down her hair.

They had walked downstairs and to Mulder’s surprise, Bill was still there. His cheek had been very red which Mulder found highly amusing. He sat at the table and Mrs. Scully brought him a piece of cobbler. He noticed it was a bit larger than Bill’s and he looked up at her. She glanced at him and then rubbed his back.

His fondness for her grew in that moment. She was telling him, once again, that he was welcome, he did belong there, and she knew how much he cared for Scully. That he was enough.

He felt his breathing pick up, almost like a panic attack when he heard his phone beep. He jumped and cursed. The past meeting the present, as he saw a text from Scully:

“I realized I didn’t tell you which room the boxes are in. The first bedroom to the right, top of the stairs. They are in the closet. Thank you again for doing this for me. I know you don’t like going over there much, especially on your own. Too many ghosts, huh? But I appreciate it. Thank you, Mulder.”

He smiled as he read her message. So she knew. He did not have to tell her, she just knew. Of course she did, it should not surprise him. His phone beeped again with another message from her.

“Big, small, and every way in between, Mulder.”

He grinned and sent one back to her:

“Bring home some earplugs.”

He put his phone away and closed the bathroom door. He went into the first bedroom and saw the boxes in the closet. Scully was right, there were five of them. She had failed to mention one thing though. Not only did they have her name on them, but his as well. “Dana and Fox” in Mrs. Scully’s handwriting.

These must be from when they were first hiding out, laying low, fugitives from the law. He never really thought about what happened back home. His main thought was for Scully’s safety, then his own. He did not think that people were back home, taking care of things. Packing and making sure their combined homes were seen to. Obviously, Mrs. Scully was there, making sure these boxes were safe. Keeping them all these years, never asking for the closet space back.

He touched the boxes where her handwriting was, their names boldly written across it. Too much. It was too much. He dropped to his knees on the floor, his head against the boxes and he wept. Deep wracking sobs.

Two and a half years had passed since she died and it hit him like a ton of bricks in that moment. She was gone. The mother he never deserved but who never gave up on him. Always accepted him. Always loved him. The woman who went out of her way to get him wonderful birthday and Christmas gifts. The woman who trusted him to hold her daughter’s heart and did not hate him when he broke it.

He wept knowing that she would never know they had found William. That they had stood in a gas station and watched Scully on a surveillance tape, having a conversation with him, but unaware it was him. That Mulder had tracked him down, held him.. and then they saved him. Together they worked to bring their boy to them. He could no longer think. It was too much. He just let the tears fall.

He had no idea how long he knelt there, but he felt drained and at peace simultaneously. He staggered off his knees and looked at the boxes again. He put his hand on the top one and whispered, “thank you” before taking the first box down the stairs. Up and down he went until they were all in the foyer.

Then back and forth he went until they were all in the car. He came back and stood in the foyer again. He closed his eyes and he could hear Scully’s laugh ring out at some crazy thing he had said and Mrs. Scully’s laugh answered hers. He could smell the floral smell of the house, the wine they drank, the food they ate.

He opened his eyes and the air was still again, heavy. He took a deep breath and turned to leave. He looked back and once again pictured her standing there, between him and Scully. Their protector. The mother he never expected, but the one he had always needed.

“Thank you.. Mom,” he said quietly. His words hanging thickly in the heavy air.

He walked out the door and locked it behind him. He got in the car, buckled in, and looked to make sure there was no traffic coming before pulling away from the house.

He looked in the rear view mirror and for a second, he could swear he saw her standing there on the porch, waving goodbye like she had done hundreds of times. When he turned his head, the porch was empty. He checked his mirror again and it was still empty. But he knew what he saw. He saw her smiling at him and waving. Her eyes shining with happiness.

He smiled, but felt a lump in his throat. He looked at the boxes and realized something. He was not just bringing “things” home with him. It was love. The love they had shared in her apartment. The love Mrs. Scully had put into keeping these items safe. The love Scully had for not wanting to part with this house just yet. Needing to keep her mom close to her still. His love, for coming over and facing his feelings even if he did not like it.

His love for Scully would make him walk through fire. Whatever was in these boxes, already held a special place in his heart.

One last glance in the rear view mirror and he took off. His heart felt light and happy. He rolled the windows down and let the breeze blow through the car. He turned left and headed for home... bringing love to his love.

____________________________________________________

So, just a side note, I do not believe that Mulder would drive that Mustang. It’s impractical and so not “him” to me. He has an SUV. The one he had in TLAOFS and RM9... something that can hold a sleeping bag, or a blanket roll in the back, for those nights he wants to take Scully camping, but she insists on a bed of sorts, because she doesn’t deserve to sleep on anymore forest floors. And soon that car will be the one that takes his OTHER girl camping and on many amazing adventures.

That Mustang was ridiculous for HIM, let alone a family.

[a19yearoldtryinherbest]

A Starry Night. [Bill Hader]

   Masterlist

Prompt: Bill is reminded of the age difference he has with the love of his life.

Pairing: Bill Hader x OFC

Warning: Swearing, fluff.

A/N: I was stuck between this and another title The Age Of The Stars. but I thought that this one works better with the text. idk

Next up McLoving Part 3!

Word count: 2005

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

He had woken up a few minutes before by his alarm and was waiting for her to wake up. He looked at her in awe like if he was looking at every star in the galaxy. She was beautiful and she was laying in bed next to him. She had been every night for the past four months and Bill still couldn’t wrap his head around it. He saw her scrunch up her face a little before she slightly opened her eyes. She smiled the second she saw him looking at her. She closed her eyes, still smiling and moved to snuggle against his chest. Her right hand placed itself almost by inertia on his waist while the left one stayed with her, holding herself from the waist. Her head was against his chest, letting her hear his heartbeat and breathing.

He felt his heart fluttered, and the hand on his waist grabbing him ever so softly was only making him smile wider — Good morning. — Sarah mumbled, her voice a bit ruff and tired but he still found it endearing.

— Good morning, sweetheart. — he replied. He let his right arm under his own head, so it would stay out of the way, and put his other hand on top of the one she left on her waist, grabbing her hand an caressing her skin with his thumb.

They stayed like that for a moment talking about the things each had to do that day, Bill only moving to leave a kiss on her forehead every couple of minutes, taking the chance to share he affection in other way than caressing her skin.

After almost forty five minutes laying together -which still felt like it wasn’t enough- they both had to give up their intimate moment and get up to start their day.

Bill always showered before bed, so when Sarah entered to shower Bill went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Taking advantage that the kids weren’t there and he didn’t have to make a healthy, balanced breakfast, he started making pancakes. Some with blueberries for her, others plain for himself.

He was half done when he heard her come into the kitchen and felt her arms slid on his torso to hug him. She rested her cheek against his back for a brief moment, almost like she was snoozing off an alarm just to put her head on top of the pillow for five more minutes. He smiled and intertwined his fingers with her’s leaving only one hand on top of his stomach, flipping pancakes with the other — How was the shower? — he asked with a soft chuckle, rubbing her knuckles slowly, as a way to bring a bit of the soft mess of caressing, kissing and laying together in bed to the kitchen.

She smiled brightly and kissed his shoulder blade — It was great. How are the pancakes?

He smiled a bit, noting her playful and teasing tone — I hope they’re good.

Without moving their positions too much she swung to her right and looked to the pan where the pancakes were — They’re not burnt. — she observed, jokingly saying it as it was some sort of unbelievable event.

— Alright. It happened only once. — he teased back, getting the pancakes of the pan and putting them in two different plates — And, to my favor, — he turned the stove off and turned around, her hug not breaking but leaving her with her chin on his chest, not far from his face — they weren’t really that burnt.

— Honey, they looked like coal. — she teased a bit before releasing him from the hug and taking both plates to the table, he laughed softly and followed her with the orange juice, the butter and syrup. They ate chatting about new movies coming up, their schedule for the upcoming filming season and the girl’s school grades.

It always amazed him how much calmer he felt around her. It didn’t matter what they were doing, he felt calm. She was, to him, the equivalent of a quiet and warm starry night. When he looked at her was like looking at the stars, everything seemed to make sense because of it, every problem felt a thousand times smaller and it just made him feel as if he was where he was supposed to be, it just felt right.

Soon they both had to leave, Bill was writing season 3 of Barry and Sarah went filming a tv series she was working on. His office wasn’t far from the set she was filming on, so they would always do little lunches or dinners to see each other on the day. They saw each other at lunch were they arranged she would get back to the house, since she was leaving earlier, and if Bill didn’t left too late and tired they could watch something and have a dinner.

The rest of the day went by easily and Bill was lucky to get back home early. When her entered their house the lack of music or tv sound struck him immediately. Making him know that something serious was going on. He went to the living room and saw Sarah sitting on the couch, her legs stretched across, a large t-shirt she supposedly borrowed from him on and looking into her cellphone with concentration — Hey. — he said, surrounding the couch to face her.

Sarah looked up from her phone, he could see she was reading an article but it didn’t seem like a fancy one. A conflicted and sad look in her eyes where what made him concerned — Hey. — she pulled her legs slowly close to her body, leaving a place for him to seat near her.

He sat on the couch right next to her. He looked at her face, almost as if he was looking for clues — What happened? — he asked, getting a lock of hair behind her ear.

— They found out about us. — she stated before stretching her legs above hi legs and laying her head on his shoulder. Her left arm slithered around his back, softly grabbing his torso. Bill’s arm surrounded her torso and grabbed the shoulder that was left exposed to the warm night, keeping her closer to him. He thought of it for a second. He didn’t mind people knowing. Not one bit. He tried to understand why she seemed upset but he wasn’t sure what she would be so he rested his free hand on her leg and waited for her to explain it — It’s just- they’re saying mean stuff. About both of us.

— They are? — he asked. She looked for her phone and he pressed his lips against her forehead. He didn’t care what people would say but he could see that she did, to some degree it affected her. He had learned to ignore those click-bait articles about people’s lives but she was fairly knew to the weird stoplight they were in.

41 year old actor Bill Hader seen having romantic lunch with 23 year old actress Sarah Kaufman.

And, without even reading it he knew what it would be about. But he read it anyway. They gave details about his life taking special attention to the fact that he had been married and had children, and that she hadn’t had any public long lasting relationships. They centered mostly about the age gap between them, basically saying that she was a midlife crisis to him and he was a help for publicity to her.

He felt guilty for a moment, seeing Sarah with her look lost in the air, probably thinking about the situation and how to handle it, evaluating all the choices. He felt guilty because, every bad thing they said about her was because of him. Because he was older, because of their age.

He knew about the age difference. Of course he knew. It had tortured him since the day he met her. She was almost half his age, he had felt like and asshole when he realized it. She was twenty-three. Eighteen years younger than him. That number was like burden everyday he fell in love with her, except when he was with her, except when she talked and carried herself in a way that seemed more mature, more mature than anyone he had ever met. She would always be patient, understanding and giving but not to an extreme where one could take her as a fool, she could stand up for herself or others without hesitation and she would do it, she was more familiar with feelings and could express them in a way everyone would understand. It’s said that one can’t be young and wise, well, she was the exception. It wasn’t that she made him feel young, it was that, for them, there were no numbers, there was no age, they were soulmates, nothing past that mattered. But he still felt guilty.

— I’m sorry. — he said, making her snap out of her train of thought. She turned to him, straightening herself, looking concerned and confused — About this… getting out. All the thing they’re saying about us. About you. It’s all wrong. I’m sorry I put you into this.

There was a look in her eyes he had seen a million times. It was understanding. But it wasn’t that she was just sympathetic for him, she actually understood what he meant, where he was coming from. It had always been easier with her, understanding, listening, talking. Bill had always found it hard to understand other people, to communicate with them, but she was something else. He could understand her, even if nobody else did.

— Bill, stop. — she shushed, taking her hand from his back and resting it on his cheek — You didn’t but me into anything and you shouldn’t be apologizing for anything. I want this. I don’t care what they say. — he looked at her, his eyes darting between both of her eyes. Some sort of sadness and hope glimmering in his eyes. He settled herself and looked at him, he played attention to her every move and every word she started to utter— Look, for the most part of my life I just wanted somebody to be there with. I would get on my bedroom window and look at the stars and hope that one day someone would sit there with me. I always thought that it could be anyone, but it can’t be. It doesn’t feel right to just be with anyone else. You’re the only one that it makes it all just- feel right. You’re the one, alright? — she shook her head, letting a smile light up her face — And it doesn’t matter what anyone says about us because it feels right. Because, no matter where I am, I feel the breeze from my bedroom window and I see all of the stars if I’m with you, Bill. I love you.

He felt his breath stop for a second. It was the first time any of them had said it but there was no hesitation, no doubt in the air, they both knew they loved each other — I love you, too. — he saw her smile and found himself in absolute glee — And you’re the one for me, too, Sarah. — he was sure she knew but he said it anyway. She smiled sweetly and leaned in to kiss him softly. After a few seconds they broke away from the kiss and looked at each other, seeing every beautiful detail and every minimal imperfection, they felt as if they were looking at the stars in the middle of a dark, vast field. It was sublime. It felt calm and oddly familiar but it awakened a wide sense of wonder and amazement from within. They both stayed like that, completely marveled by the love of their life