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missmonsters2 · 1 year ago

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Mirror, Mirror | Five

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

PART FOUR

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Deleting the video evidence of Wanda's embarrassing confession only goes slightly awry, and in the end, she can't tell if she's relieved or disappointed with herself. Perhaps she can get advice from someone who was once in her position.

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: There's still an epilogue after this!! But after that, it's done </3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~4,6k

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Wanda jiggles her key through the door with a renewed rush. Her hands are shaky, and she should really just take her time. This wasn't making it go any faster.

Darcy had just dropped her off after they ate their McDonald's meal in the parking lot and was on her way back to get access to her laptop to help Wanda.

Finally unlocking the door, Wanda took her shoes off haphazardly and took off towards your room. Your laptop sits innocently at your desk, unaware of all the havoc Wanda will reap upon it if it doesn't give her access to your email.

She pulls out the chair and sits down before she opens it up. The first thing that greets her is the password page. Wanda pulls out the USB that Darcy gave her and plugs it in. All she can do now is wait since Darcy said she'd text Wanda once she made it home.

The next 15 minutes feel like a bottomless pit of hell. Wanda checks her watch every couple of minutes, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Come on, come on, come on," Wanda huffs quietly. She's extremely paranoid about what you might be doing. It's unlikely you'd be returning home tonight, and even if you were, it'd be a couple of hours from now.

Yet, the unhinged part of Wanda wants to pull out her phone and text you, "Hey, what's up? You're still busy sexing up Raye, right? Definitely not ideal, but you're not checking your emails or on your way home, right?

Wanda wishes she made Natasha go stakeout Raye's house to alert her when you were leaving the place. Before she can think more insane thoughts, her phone vibrates in her hand, and Wanda checks it with speed. It was from Darcy confirming she'd made it home and it'd be any minute now.

Wanda looks up at your laptop screen, pushing her finger against the mousepad to ensure the screen doesn't time out. The USB must give Darcy some kind of access because, true to her word, something does start happening.

Wanda watches the screen with mild interest as a separate window pops up. The background is black, but it's clearly some kind of coding as random words begin running. It takes a few minutes, but then asterisks fill your password box. It only takes 3 times before the right password is entered and Wanda's gained access.

"Yes!" She celebrates before she sends Darcy a quick text.

Wanda pulls up your email and finds the latest one sent to you is a link to a Google Drive. There are many videos and some photos, but Wanda recognizes herself in one of the thumbnails and clicks on it.

"I don't see what's so great about Raye—"

Wanda immediately stops playing it, unable to bear the embarrassment of hearing herself. She quickly deletes the clip, also going to the trash bin to make sure it's permanently deleted. Wanda checks everything several times to ensure there are no other clips and any trace of her confession is gone.

Mission completed.

Relief floods her system, knowing that the clip has been deleted.

Wanda closed everything she opened, making sure she changed the status of the email to unread. Once everything is as it was, Wanda closes your laptop and unplugs the USB.

Stuffing the USB into her pocket, she's about to send another text to Darcy when Wanda hears the front door open, and you call out her name. You must've seen her shoes at the door, but Wanda still doesn't answer. She hears you walking back down the hallway toward your room and panics.

Oh, god, she couldn't walk back out that door without bumping into you, and she couldn't jump out the window either with them living on the 10th floor.

Oh, fuck, what does she do? Wanda's panicking as she shakes her hands in hysteria and looks around frantically.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Wanda carefully makes her way to your closet, but it's filled wall to wall with your clothes, and the floor is filled with your shoes and other boxes. There was no room to hide in there.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Wanda's walking around your room and has no idea where to hide. She looks at your bed and internally groans. Dropping to her knees, she scoots herself until she's fully underneath, flat on her stomach, but her head is kept off the floor. She quickly opens her phone and turns it from vibration mode to silence—Wanda refuses to be caught. She would rather die than even try and explain all of this.

The door opens, and Wanda only gets a few of your slippers as you make your way back to your desk. She hears a soft clank on the desk, and Wanda can only assume it's the mug of tea you have every night.

Wanda hears you sigh quietly as you seem to settle in for the night. This is not good. This is fucking terrible.

Wanda can't tell how long she's been stuck under your bed. She's too worried about moving and accidentally making a noise. All she hears is the soft music playing and your mouse and keyboard clicking.

Suddenly, her phone lights up with a notification. It's a text from you.

Wanda bites her lip, trying to decide if she should answer. Ultimately, she decides she should because it's possible you might try to call her if she doesn't, and she definitely can't answer it if you do. Wanda would also feel bad about not answering you if you're worried.

But, god fucking dammit, she's going to have to lie. Again.

Wanda hears a breathy chuckle from you and tries not to smile.

Fuck.

Wanda doesn't know if she should say yes or no. If she says yes, will you wait until she gets home? Wanda can only dread how long she might be stuck under your bed.

The chair you're sitting scrapes against the floor a little. A reply doesn't come for a few minutes, and Wanda wishes she could see what you were doing.

Wanda stares at the text, trying to see if she can decipher your tone from just the words alone. It's something you've told her countless times when she told you she'd be staying at Vision's place. Yet, somehow, this feels different.

You stop replying to her after that. It's both a relief that Wanda could stop digging herself into another hole and a torture she's left without much to do again.

Wanda checks some of her other texts and replies to them, but her battery life is getting exceedingly low, and she doesn't want it to die on her accidentally if you do decide to text her again.

The last time she opened the phone to check the time, an hour and a half had passed. There's almost a desperation to give herself up and come clean to relinquish herself from the sheer boredom, but Wanda holds strong since she reasons she'd already made it this far.

"Hmm," Wanda hears you let out a deep hum. The mouse clicks a few times, and Wanda wishes she could see what you were staring at.

Definitely not her confession video; that much comforts Wanda.

God, she's bored. She's so bored that the fear has long left her body.

It's a miracle when Wanda hears you get up and stretch, a few cricks released from your back. You leave the room, and Wanda hears the bathroom door shut.

Wanda scrambles to get out from under the bed, nearly hitting her head 5 times. She quickly tiptoes out of your room, heading for the front door and opening it. Just as you're coming out of the bathroom, Wanda shuts the door as if she's just gotten in.

"Wanda, is that you?" You call from the hallway.

"Yep! You're still up?" Wanda calls back, laughing nervously to herself about how stupid this all was, but relief she was clearly getting away with it.

"Yeah, just thought I'd get a start on the editing stuff for Tony," you say as Wanda walks towards you.

"Oh, cool," Wanda doesn't inquire further but says, "I thought you were staying at Raye's tonight?"

"Oh, uh," you seem surprised that Wanda asks. "I was having a hard time falling asleep on her bed. The mattress is too soft and gives me the worst cricks."

"Oh," Wanda nods, knowing that your mattress is memory foam but on the firmer side.

"What about you?" You ask back. "Didn't go home with Darcy?"

"Uh, no," Wanda fumbles slightly. "Uh, it was good, but I, uh, was getting a slight stomachache from the McDonald's so I decided to go home."

You frown. "Do you want some tea? Maybe some Tums?"

"Maybe some ginger and honey tea?"

You nod. "Alright, I'll get some ready for you. Why don't you go take your makeup off and whatnot? We could watch some TV before we sleep."

"Oo," Wanda grins. "I think I saw some things come out on Disney+, let's see what they have!"

The rollercoaster of the night comes to a satisfying end for Wanda.

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The next three weeks are odd for Wanda. During the first and second weeks, she was so busy with her clients and a whole PR mess that she barely had time to see you.

She spends more time collaborating with her team about how they will dig one of their clients out of the mess they'd made or if they should just drop the client. She's barely been able to think about her feelings for you and what to do about it.

By the time the third week arrives, everything at work finally slows down, and she has time to herself like a regular person again. Wanda reflects back on her position and the entire video-deleting debacle.

With the fear and adrenaline long gone, Wanda can't actually tell if she's disappointed that you haven't discovered her feelings. Would things have just been easier if you had watched the video?

At the very least, it might be better in the sense Wanda wouldn't be stuck in the same place.

Wanda's sitting on the couch, lazily trying to focus on her book but can't with her mind continuously drifting. You haven't been home as of late—Wanda only realized you've been out a lot for a week and a half now.

Sighing, Wanda closes her book. She was getting bored again. You wouldn't be home until later, and she already spent an hour on the phone with Natasha earlier.

Just as Wanda was about to text you to ask if there was any possibility you'd be home earlier, the front doorknob jiggled, signaling someone was putting in their key.

Wanda smiles, hoping she'll see you walk through the door, but smiles even wider when she sees who walks through it.

Getting up from the couch, Wanda runs and jumps, latching onto the person.

"Oof," the voice was gruff.

"Bucky!" Wanda yells excitedly as Bucky catches her, wrapping his arm around her to ensure she doesn't fall, even though her legs are around him.

"Hi, nutball," Bucky says, but his mouth is muffled by Wanda's shoulder and some of her hair.

Wanda slowly slides back down onto the floor, taking a good look at Bucky. Of all the people she adores besides you, Bucky is at the top of her list, along with Natasha, which is why they both have key fobs to the apartment.

Bucky kind of reminds her of Pietro in certain ways, if Pietro would ever grow up and get a little serious. Bucky seems to know that and has cared for Wanda in Pietro's stead now that the guy has left for Europe since they turned 18.

"When did you get back?" Wanda asks. "Why didn't you call? I would've arranged to pick you up from the airport."

"It's fine. Steve picked me up from the airport and we relaxed a little bit before he had to leave to the station to do some kind of sketch for a case," Bucky says as he takes off his shoes.

They wander back into the living room space and take a seat. Bucky had brought her some coffee and pastries that Wanda delighted over.

"So," Wanda says after a sip of her coffee. "How was California?"

"Hot," Bucky smiles.

"You said you were going to train an upcoming actor in a movie, right?"

Bucky nods, sipping his own coffee. "Yeah, some new superhero movie. Pretty young; I think he just turned 18. Definitely now super ripped for an 18 year old," Bucky laughs.

"Does he need a PR agent?" Wanda grins.

Bucky rolls his eyes with mirth. "Probably not since he has his manager handling everything, but I did pass your card along."

"You're good people."

Bucky snorts, and they spend another half hour catching up before he finally comes to the topic he's been waiting to discuss. "You know, Steve brought up something interesting."

"Oh, yeah?" Wanda raises her brow.

"Steve was bringing up how Bug seems to be seeing someone," Bucky says slowly. "And she looks a lot like you...like everyone else Bug has dated."

Wanda lets out a huge groan. "Steve should eat rocks and jump into the ocean."

Bucky laughs, leaning back onto the couch, and smiles. "So? What do you think?"

"About what?"

Bucky gives her a side-eye, and she groans quietly this time.

"Fine," she grumbles. "It was strange to realize, but like, a good strange. I don't know. I want...I want her to look at me."

Wanda's blushing at the admittance to Bucky. It makes her feel shy, but also good that someone else close to her knows and will be on her side.

"Have you confessed?"

"Not exactly."

"Ah, so you haven't done shit except probably rope people into your weird schemes that turn out poorly."

Wanda's jaw drops. "I have not—okay, well, I mean, I wouldn't say they turned out poorly." She would never tell Bucky about the videotaping incident. She was taking that to her grave.

Bucky eyes Wanda, taking in the small expressions on her face and the muted longing in her eyes as she picks at her nails. "You're so much like me, sometimes I'm convinced that you're actually my little sister," Bucky grins, and Wanda mirrors him. "Don't tell Pietro that, though. He's gets so jealous."

Wanda just gives him an, 'obviously,' look.

"When I started realizing my feelings for Steve, I didn't say anything for a long, long time, and I've known I've liked Steve since we were boys making mudpies," Bucky leans his head back against the couch, the coffee resting between his hands on his stomach. "I kept thinking about what if Steve didn't feel the same? And then there was the whole Peggy situation, and I didn't want to break that up."

"You're better than me," Wanda sighs. "I would break them up in a heartbeat if I knew how she felt about me."

Bucky can't hold his laugh in for that but continues on. "I think a lot of those fears I had paralyzed me. I kept thinking I'd have more time and there was a right moment, or if I did certain things, Steve would feel the same. I just had to wait it out."

"So, what happened?"

Bucky gave her a wan smile. "Steve and Peggy, even though they'd be on and off, were getting more serious. One night, Steve told me he was thinking about proposing."

"What?" Wanda's jaw drops. She's never heard of this. "But obviously he didn't because you guys are together now."

"Yeah," Bucky laughs, "because I totally freaked out. I started saying he couldn't and then kissed him, and then started crying. It was a mess."

"Oh, god," Wanda rests her hand against her mouth. She could totally see herself doing that to you if you said the same thing. Now, she's starting to freak out if you're getting serious with Raye.

"I think you know what I'm getting at," Bucky says, turning his head to look over at Wanda, and she feels vaguely uncomfortable. "You need to say something—now. There's no perfect timing. There's nothing extra you can do to magically know, and you're not gonna always have more time."

Wanda lets her head fall back against the couch, closing her eyes. They start to sting with tears, and she feels that same fear creep into her belly. Yet, Bucky's words resonate with her, and she suppresses that fear until it settles into a muted nervousness.

"Fuck, I swear you and Steve planned this."

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Despite Wanda's talk with Bucky, she says absolutely nothing to you when you arrive home late in the evening. Wanda's eyes are glued to the TV, watching How I Met Your Mother absently.

You seemed to have a long day yourself as you carefully sat next to her on the couch.

The air feels weird, and there's a tension in your shoulders. It starts to make Wanda tense until you suddenly relax with a deep breath. You shuffle in your seat before scooting until you're pressed against Wanda's side, resting your head against her shoulder.

The smell of clean laundry and leaves fills Wanda's nose, and she relaxes against you.

"Wanna order in?" You say.

"Yeah," Wanda replies, pulling out her phone to see what she was in the mood for. The two of you quickly place an order and continue to sit in silence, watching the TV.

You seem deep in thought, but you grab Wanda's hand at some point, holding it with keen interest.

Wanda doesn't say anything. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears are warm as you stroke the back of her hand with your thumb. Her heart doesn't speed up, but it begins to thud noticeably harder in her chest.

It continues like that until the food arrives, and it's also eaten in silence with the background noise of the TV. Yet, whenever Wanda looks up, she finds you staring at her, and you don't break eye contact.

It's strange, and it's making Wanda feel somewhat nauseous.

When the food is done and put away, the two of you settle back onto the couch, but Wanda doesn't think she can handle the silence anymore.

"How was your day?"

You turn your head, staring at Wanda, and reply softly. "Okay...how was yours? Bucky told me he stopped by to see you."

Wanda tenses. "Yeah," she mumbles. "It was good seeing him again."

"It's nice that he's home," you nod. "I'm sure Steve is happy."

Steve doesn't deserve to be happy, Wanda pettily thinks. It was his fault that Wanda felt so nervous that she felt like she would puke.

Wanda needs to say something.

She knows she needs to say something now like Bucky told her to.

All those same fears and anxiety creep up, but frustration has also lingered in her since the day she realized her feelings for you.

Wanda's tired, she realizes. She's also sick of saying nothing and watching you be with someone else. She's scared but would rather say something and be put out of her misery than continue saying nothing.

Just as Wanda is about to say something else, you say something first.

"I broke up with Raye."

Just like that, the wind is blown out of her sails, and Wanda's brain stalls. "What?"

"I," you clear your throat, "broke up with Raye."

"When?"

"A week and a half ago."

"And you're just telling me now?"

Your brow scrunches, and you turn in your seat to fully face Wanda as you cross your legs on the couch. You're fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. "Yes...I needed to think."

"Think about what?"

You wet your lips. "If...if it was worth it potentially ruining our friendship for something more."

Wanda's heart drops like an amusement park ride. Her stomach feels the same way it does when an airplane is ascending.

She had all these things she was going to say to you just a minute ago, and now her head was empty, and all she could think about was what you were trying to say.

"I think it is...if you feel the same, which I know you do unless something's changed in the last three weeks."

"How do you know?" Wanda frowns. Then again, she wasn't trying to be sly about it the last few months. Maybe you've finally caught on.

Wait, Wanda pauses. Three weeks? That was when—

You pull out an SD card from your pocket. Wanda's around you enough to know what that is, and her stomach sinks.

"You know," you give her a small smile. "I was trying to edit the video together for Tony the night after the party, but as I was going through the footage, a third of the photos or videos were corrupted."

Wanda thinks back to the USB she returned to Darcy. Dammit, Darcy! That lying, sneaking, betraying—

"I didn't think much of it, but I had to meet up with the videographer to get the original files. You'd never guess what was on there," you smile wryly. "Or maybe you do since you've somehow deleted it from my Google Drive...and corrupted the other files, so I'd have to get the originals. Very conflicting motives I was getting."

"I didn't mean to corrupt the other files," Wanda mumbles. "But you should probably get your laptop professionally cleaned..."

You give her a weird look but chuckle with a shake of your head. "You're super kooky, you know."

"I do know," Wanda rolls her eyes. "I think you know as well."

"I thought I might've seen you on my first date with Raye. That rock that hit that car wouldn't happen to be something you know about, do you?"

"Not at all," Wanda replies quickly. "But if I did, I'm sure the person would want to say she wasn't aiming for the car or your head."

"So, just Raye's head?"

"Once again, not a clue what the intention was as it wasn't me."

You laugh, and Wanda joins in until it fades, and you bite your bottom lip. "I don't know how any of this works, Wanda. I've never dated anyone I consider my best friend."

"I would hope not," Wanda raises her brow at you. "That means someone else was your best friend and you've committed the ultimate betrayal."

You roll your eyes with a mirth and a smile.

"I haven't either," Wanda says softly, slowly turning fully toward you, grabbing your hand, and lacing your fingers together. "But I want to. And no matter what happens, we're gonna be okay. I don't think I'll ever love anyone the way I love you. I think I've loved you for a really, really long time."

"Me too," you mumble, squeezing Wanda's hand, feeling shy. "I don't think I ever really thought about it. I just love you. You're my best friend and I love you."

"Now I'm your girlfriend," Wanda grins, leaning closer and closing her eyes.

"Whoa, okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves now. What if we're not even sexually compatible?"

Wanda pulls back and looks at your face, shocked. It's stony and serious until your lip twitches and Wanda smacks you.

"Ugh, you're such a brat!"

"No, that's you. I'm stinky."

"Stinky."

"Brat."

"Bug."

"Witch."

"Oh, we're bringing back middle school nicknames, are we?" Wanda narrows her eyes at you. You're about to say something else, but Wanda's had enough.

Didn't she think something earlier about being sick of saying nothing? What was she thinking? Saying nothing sounds ideal.

Wanda launches herself across the seat into you, hearing you grunt as she topples you over onto the couch and presses her lips against yours.

It's not a dream this time, Wanda's very sure.

This was much, much better than any dream could give her. It feels better.

Your lips are soft, and you taste faintly like the cookie you split with her earlier.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, Wanda's mind is racing. She's finally kissing you.

Oh my god, she was kissing you!

You were kissing her back!

Wanda kisses you, pressing her lips over yours over and over as your fingers trail over the outside of her thighs and stroke up to her back. You're bolder than her as your fingers dip under her shirt, pressing her against bare skin.

It's thrilling; Wanda almost can't lie still on top of you. Goosebumps are forming, and it's forming everywhere.

You break the kiss, lips caressing her jaw, and scatter light kisses as they trail down her throat.

Your hand moves higher up Wanda's back and pauses.

"No bra?" You raise an eyebrow at her.

"I didn't leave the house today," Wanda mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

You hum. "No complaints here," you resume your caresses of her bare skin but pause again. "Wanna move to the bedroom?"

No, Wanda thinks. She doesn't want to detach herself from this position. She doesn't want your touch or your kisses to stop.

You can tell that Wanda's debating the pros and cons, and you try to persuade her. "A bed will give us more room to do things...and I want to do a lot of things..." You nibble on her collarbone.

Wanda lets out a soft moan, and her toes curl.

"Okay, fine," Wanda acquiesces, getting up and pulling you along with her. "Move quickly, though. No dallying."

"Dallying? I would never," you smile as Wanda pulls you down the hall. "I'll mirror you perfectly."

"I think you always have," Wanda says softly, turning to look at you. "That's why it's taken us so long to get here. We're stupid."

You laugh. "Seems like one of us deviated from our mirror, mirror dance."

The two of you enter Wanda's bedroom, and she falls back onto it, pulling you on top of her.

Your body heat spreads across hers, and Wanda thinks she's dizzy again.

"Good," Wanda mumbles, cupping your face, her thumb stroking your cheek. "I'm tired of us being chickens."

You press a kiss to her, smiling against her lips. One arm wraps around Wanda while the other trails under the front of Wanda's shirt.

"Speak for yourself," your fingers trail higher and higher. "Maybe I'm just stupid." You press another kiss, lingering a moment longer, and then pull away. "Chicken."

"Stupid," Wanda smiles, her lips grazing yours when she does.

"Witch."

"Bug."

"Brat."

"Stinky."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

Wanda feels something so peaceful settle over her. The butterflies in her stomach flutter around from your touch, but she's so happy. She thinks she might cry if she thinks about it too much because this was all she ever wanted.

Wanda focuses on the feel of your hands on her skin instead and how you're making her feel hot. She focuses on the feel of your lips against her skin, the sound of her breaths, and your soft moans.

There's no way the two of you aren't sexually compatible, but Wanda's eager to find out exactly how compatible they are...over and over.

As your lips trail lower and more clothes are removed, Wanda idly thinks that maybe Steve doesn't need to eat rocks and jump into the ocean.

EPILOGUE

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #modern avengers au #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics

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toxic3mmy · 2 months ago

Text

Star Struck

prompt: you get a message from alex on tumblr

hai lovely peeps <3

this is gonna be a short little book type thing with a few more chapters to come

i hope you guys enjoy!

ps- ill try my best to update this series at least once a week!!!

you mindlessly scrolled through tumblr. yes it wasn’t 2015 anymore but you still used the app religiously. you had a good number of followers, too.

you posted about all the emo and alternative music you were into and not to mention the youtubers who you loved.

your number one favorite youtuber was alexis quackity. you related to him in many different ways. he made you laugh on days you weren’t doing too well. he meant a lot to you, even if you didn’t know him personally and it was all most likely just an internet personality.

still, you found yourself talking about his latest let’s talk streams or even his random tweets. you loved having a community of online mutuals that felt the same way about quackity.

____

halfway across the country, alexis sat cross-legged on the floor of his cluttered apartment, surrounded by a sea of empty takeout boxes and energy drink cans. his eyes were glued to the computer screen, the glow from the monitor reflecting off his square-rimmed glasses. his mouse hand hovered over the keyboard, poised to respond to the endless stream of comments that flooded his youtube channel. his thumbs danced across his phone, scrolling through the notifications that seemed to never end.

it had been a wild ride for alexis since he started streaming games and posting videos under the moniker 'Quackity'. the fame had come quickly, and with it, the adoration of millions of fans around the globe.

sometimes alex would take the time and look through his community of devoted fans. he would use throwaway accounts to simply be unknown for once and just see what there was out there.

his fans were so unbelievably talented. many of them were amazing artists making portraits of him or even writing songs for him. some were even exceptional writers and the fanfiction stories he’d come across were actually pretty good.

amidst the digital chaos, one fan seemed to stand out from the rest. y/n, with her username 'Y/NIsNotHere', had caught his attention with her thoughtful comments and unyielding support. He clicked on her tumblr profile, and there it was: a fan account dedicated solely to him.

her profile was a shrine to his digital persona, filled with meticulously edited gifs, screenshots from his streams, and heartfelt notes about how his content had changed her life. Alexis felt a strange mix of flattery and curiosity. he hovered over the 'send message' button, his heart racing with excitement.

what did she look like? what was her voice like? would she be as amazing as she seemed? with a deep breath, he typed out a simple hello.

granted, he was using a secret throwaway tumblr account so he didn’t expect for an immediate response. and yet, the response still came rather quickly.

Y/Nisnothere: hi! whats up?

emoboy666_: nothing much, just surfin da web. so you’re a fan of quackity?

Y/Nisnothere: yeah im definitely a huge fan. there’s just something about him you know? he’s different, he makes me feel okay

alexis’ cheeks heated up after reading the compliment. he smiled softly as he continued to message you

emoboy666_: i totally get you! it’s nice to be distracted from things

Y/Nisnothere: for sure! so tell me about yourself

emoboy666_: well, im in my early 20s.. im mexican, i love video games and art….. oh and you can just call me A

Y/Nisnothere: well im 21, im also mexican, im also really into all things artsy and nerdy and well, emo lol, and you can just call me y/n :3

emoboy666_: i’m glad we have some things in common! your blog is really cool btw, it’s like a hidden gem amongst the cyber world

Y/Nisnothere: aw thanks! that’s really sweet of you to say <3

emoboy666_: no prob (: so, what are you doing right now?

Y/Nisnothere: oh not much, trying to do homework but getting distracted by tumblr and twitter lol. and u?

emoboy666_: oh same here, what do you study?

Y/Nisnothere: i’m studying art

emoboy666_: that’s awesome! maybe you should show me some of your work sometime

Y/Nisnothere: yeah! id love to (:

emoboy666: me too (:

Y/Nisnothere: (: <3

the two of you continued to message each other practically all night. you were happy to have made a new online friend and alexis was happy to get to know one of his fans.

neither of you truly knew who was on the other end of the phone but you still really enjoyed talking to one another. it was refreshing for the two of you.

you fell asleep with thoughts of your new friend, A

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity fanfic #quackity x y/n #quackity smut

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sweetpascal · 6 months ago

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˗ˏˋ A B O U T T H E A U T H O R ˎˊ˗

⤷ hhhiiii. my name is Ally. i'm 22 years old. she/they. INFJ coded. mental health advocate. and my current fandoms are literally anything related to Pedro Pascal. ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

⤷ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. my account is strictly for adults only. all of my content contains adults using explicit language, doing explicit things. some of my works will contain dark content. i am not responsible for what you read and i will not care if you complain about it to me. i'm saying this from a place of love and safety as an adult, so please do not be offended. ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

⤷ please do not repost or translate my works on this and other platforms without my permission. ⭑.ᐟ

⤷ i'm always accepting asks, so my requests are open. if you have an idea that you'd wanna see written and i'm the girl you can come to, please flood my ask box. ౨ৎ

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

˗ˏˋ T H E N A V I G A T I O N S T A T I O N ˎˊ˗

make sure to follow @sweetpascal-notifs and turn notifs on for updates on any fics i post in the future <3

PEDRO PASCAL MASTERLIST (characters so far — javier peña, frankie morales, joel miller, dave york, and general marcus acacius.)

COD MASTERLIST (characters only – simon 'ghost' riley and könig.)

⤷ READ ON AO3

⤷ fic recs ᝰ.ᐟ

⤷ fanfic inspo ᝰ.ᐟ

⤷ pedro pascal pinterest board ᝰ.ᐟ

⤷ NEW POST - 0 8 / 1 1 / 2 0 2 4

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ FWB!DIETER [ new series ]

#pinned ᯓ★#navigation ᯓ★#masterlist ᯓ★#sweetpascal ᯓ★#pedro pascal masterlist ᯓ★

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notroosterbradshaw · 2 years ago

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slow dancing in a burning room - prologue

about: it was so easy to fall in all-consuming love with Bradley Bradshaw... but it was another thing to stay in it.

word count: >1k (we’re just easing it in, friends)

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst (I cannot stress this enough, this isn’t the usually fluffy goodness of this universe), smut, fluff.

masterlist.

six weeks earlier.

“Well, I guess I’m gonna take off,” Bradley raised himself to his feet and flexed to stretch his aching back. It had been such a long night, he couldn’t believe it ended like this. You didn’t stand… you didn’t have the strength in your legs and were trapped by the boxes that were supposed to be moving into Bradley’s tomorrow.

Today. Goddammit.

It was nearly 3am. The removals company was due at 9am. How the fuck were you going to cancel them now? You couldn’t wait to greet sweaty, stinky removalists and tell them you weren’t going anywhere. And duly pay them for the service. “I’m sorry, Bradley,” you told him again and he swore to himself if you told him again how sorry you were, he was going to detonate.

He muttered your name, his voice raspy with exhaustion. “Please stop saying that… It honestly means shit to me right now,” he went over to the bench and collected his keys and phone, pocketing them, ignoring the notifications. “Can you just put my stuff in a box, I’ll grab it when you’re at work or something?” he suggested, chewing the inside of his lip to blood, cutting it open – he reckoned he’d chewed the inside of his cheek to blisters hours ago.

“Sure,” you said quietly.

“All right,” he sighed, rubbing his tired, stinging eyes. “Just know... I never wanted to disappoint you, love.”

“I know. I didn’t want to disappoint you either,” you said softly. But you’d been pushed to a limit you couldn’t cope with. And you’d been explicit on it since the beginning. It was your dealbreaker. Moving to your feet and dancing around boxes to him, you stood close enough to clutch his shirt in your fists.

“Are you really sure this is what you want?” he asked sadly, holding your hips rough, in a desperate last-ditch effort to get you to change your mind. He couldn’t let you escape his grasp this time. He needed you to look into his eyes and tell him explicitly. Spell it out. “How can I make you change your mind? Please, I’ll give you space and anything else you need… just don’t end this,” he pleaded desperately. “You can’t just end this, this – we’re are too good.”

“I didn’t end it, Bradley,” you told him stoically.

His eyes searched yours, but he knew his heart of hearts that he didn’t either. “Can we just try and start again or something?” He was embarrassed at the straw he was clutching at to try and keep you, but he knew he’d lost. You’d checked out.

“It won’t change anything,” you said, reaching to grasp his bearded cheek, and a lone tear slipped from you again and you’d cried so much tonight. And he swore he was doing everything in his power not to break down, get on his knees and plead you didn’t ruin the best thing that ever happened to him. But he had to keep some pride. He’d lost so much in his life. His father, his mother, his only other family in Maverick. He almost lost his life. But you, his sweet girl, his love. You were his everything and now he was losing that too.

His thumb swept the tear away but couldn’t stop the flood that followed, and he held you as you wept into his shirt. He cooed soft nothings into your hair, telling you he loved you, that he wouldn’t know what to do without you until you slipped out of his arms and stood before him, your loneliness overwhelmed him. All the strength from earlier had dissipated and standing was about the only action you could see through while you told him that his job was too much of a risk for you and that simply couldn’t be together anymore. You thought you’d lost him and while you knew he was good at what he did, learning about his crash had changed everything and he had been willing to risk that.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” he sighed, letting you go. He pressed a kiss into your forehead and silently moved towards the door, aching for you. Heading towards the hallway, he didn’t mutter a goodbye as he left your apartment for good but his heart screamed for you to mutter his name, just one last grasp of hope.

When it didn’t come, he closed the door quietly after him.

You collapsed on the couch, just... done. Your eyes were like sandpaper and your skin was stinging, the tears that had freely flowed irritating your cheeks and down your throat and chest. You wouldn’t be able to look in the mirror tomorrow… you probably wouldn’t recognise whom you saw anyway.

How had something so good fallen apart so terribly?

Pulling a cushion to your chest, you couldn’t fathom answering any of the questions that swarmed your brain, the pounding was so loud that no painkillers could help you. You tossed the lone cushion across the room and pushed past taped-up boxes of your belongings to get a glass of water. Your whole body was dehydrated.

“Fuck,” you drawled, kitchen items (including glasses) packed by Bradley and you had no idea where he had put them. Sighing, you figured no time like the present to unpack your life again even as the adrenaline of the last 12 hours waned through you… sleep would not easily come any time soon and with tears in your eyes, you started to undo it all again.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

one.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

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zombeebunnie · 10 months ago

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Trembling Essence [Extended Demo]:💙Quality of life changes + Q&A.💙

Hello and welcome new followers! To show my appreciation for all the support I've received again, here's one of the Valentines Day concept drawings finished! A big thank you to everyone that has continued supporting this through a like, re-blog, fanart, comment, tip jar, share, etc. :,]

I wasn't expecting it to take as long as it did but I'm very happy with the result and how much I've been improving! I'm not too good at drawing angled faces so being able to get it to look just right made me very happy! :,]

I still have this one to go so hopefully at some point I'll have it done!

Quality of life changes:

*Please note that these changes aren't in the [Extended Demo] yet! It'll be something for me to work on adding and I'll let it be known in a update post!

Now that it's been two weeks of the [Extended Demo] being released, It's time to go over some changes to help the player out when going through the game!

I noticed from comments and playthrough's that certain Bad endings/Neutral story progressions were difficult to find, especially the full afternoon route. I don't want players to feel burnt out from trying to search for everything.

I want to add a check-list menu that shows all the Bad/Neutral endings you can get while playing so it's easier to navigate the game.

2. For those that are new or have been here for some time, entering the cabin with Noah starts Day 3 due to the player(Y/N) being lost in the terrain for 2 and a half days which Noah mentions. Sometimes this can get confusing since some consider it Day 1 while the game considers it Day 3.

It's still up in the air about how I'm going to go on about this but I'm thinking about adding a little notification tab in the upper left corner of the game to notify the player(Y/N) of what day it is in the game to resolve confusion.

3. I talked about this last week but I didn't know until recently that the tags I use for Trembling Essence were very unorganized and hard to search through.

I went through and tried my best to re-organize all of the lore and art about Noah/game posts. I also cleaned up the #Trembling Essence tag since it was flooded with game development posts and not much else. I'm also working on a master post and plan on creating some reference sheets of Noah which will be placed under a different tag! :]

#Get to know: Noah : This will be filled with answered asks and lore dump. Sometimes(?) there's random dev-logs that have lore attached to them too. #TE Updates : This only includes dev-logs/updates about the game and development progress. #Trembling Essence : This tag is mainly used to post fan art / art and anything else in general that might belong here which includes lore posts. I really want searching through the tag to be enjoyable and not filled with a bunch of dev-logs.

Q&A / Ask box is open:

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask here please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!

I really wanted some of the lore to be found through playing versus me just answering everything. :]

If you've already sent in a ask, I did see it I just need time to answer since I like to respond with doodles/drawings and helps me practice. :]

That's all I have to share right now! Thank you for the continued support, I wholeheartedly appreciate it. :,]

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vibratingskull · 1 year ago

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Love match

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23

Tags : brawl, much needed discussion

FemaleReader x Thrawn

You made up your mind and decided to talk one last time to Thrawn. But what if he decided otherwise?

You yawn.

You slept like a rock, without any dream. You stretch deliciously under this heavy cover and on this soft mattress. Maker, you could stay here forever. You open your eyes slowly, looking at the ceiling.

Today is the day.

You’ll come to Thrawn and get things straight. Then you could go and happily marry Arzel.

This is the good thing to do.

You sigh before rising in a seated position. You look up your comlink. No call from Konstantine, nor any notifications urging you to come back on the Relentless. You're officially still on vacation. You scroll through your contacts and select Vez.

“It’s been a while. Let’s catch up with a drink. It’s on me!”

You get out of bed with regrets and pass a fuzzy dressing gown over your babydoll. You walk to the dressed table on the patio yawning and shuffling your feet. You need caff. When you arrive you find nobody.

Odd.

You search the house, calling for Thrawn and Arzel, worries starting to rise. When you get closer to the gym you hear groans and muffled sounds like hits were exchanged. You pass your head through the door and discover them right in the middle of a boxing match. Surely the rematch from that time at the bathhouse.

You come closer with crossed arms, observing them in effort, their flexed muscles and powerful blows. Azrel is a real battery of energy, jumping from one foot to the other, taunting Thrawn with feints, and delivering quick hits. Thrawn is more on his guard, keeping his energy with more grounded supports and powerful punches.

They stop as you approach the ring.

“Hello, my pearl!” exclaims Arzel

“Good day, Lieutenant Commander (Y/l/n)” a more reserved greeting from Thrawn.

You sadly smile at this greeting, but you're not especially surprised. You didn’t go see him last night to check on him, instead you took an icy cold bath in the lake. You look at them exchanging some punches, Thrawn broadly has the upper hand but Arzel puts up a good fight, he even manages to slide behind Thrawn and sink his elbow in the right trapezius of Thraw, earning a painful groan. Thrawn loses his balance for a second but manages to spin and throw a punch in the ribs of Arzel.

You wince at every hit, this fight is nasty. But Azrel seems in surprisingly good spirits, speaking to you at the same time.

“By the way, my pearl. I have found the perfect day!”

“The perfect day for what?” You ask yawning.

“For the wedding!”

At that second, Thrawn freezes imperceptibly and throws a devastating punch in the jaw of Azrel that flies into the cords. You scream of surprise and horror.

“Arzel! Arzel!” You scream.

Blood starts flooding off his mouth. He’s unresponsive. You start shaking him in a panic. Thrawn remains behind, panting.

Azrel’s suddenly shaken by jolts, and jump like a devil out of his box. You hold him back, preventing him from moving too much. He coughs and spits blood.

“Ow… I thought it was a friendly match?” He ask with a painful chuckle

“And I thought you would evade.” Thrawn placidly says.

You look at them both, worried. How could this get out of control like that. You help Arzel rise up with difficulty, his hand covers his mouth that pours blood, the ring is soiled. Thrawn held the cords open for you both to pass and follow out of the ring in a heavy silence. A droid alerted by the noise comes to see his master. You go to follow them at the infirmary, but Azrel holds you back.

“No, it’s okay, my pearl. I can go with my droids.”

“But…” He shushes you with a finger on your mouth

“Rules of politeness demand we don’t let a guest alone. I will be alright, tend to our guest.” He leaves, a bit trembling.

You spin towards Thrawn, shaking with anger. He looks at you a bit contrite, trying to massage his painful shoulder.

“I am sorry.” He finally says.

“Are you?” You ask.

He remains silent, sitting down to get back his breath. You sigh and place yourself behind him.

“Let me do it.”

He takes off his black tank shirt and indicates to you where it hurts. You start massaging him, applying pressure on certain points of his shoulder, trying to ease the pain. He let out a sigh of relief, you can actually feel a knot in his muscle.

You realize this is probably a good moment to talk.

“Thrawn… About what happened…”

He takes and holds your hand over his shoulder.

“I know. I shocked you.” No need to precise what you're talking about, you both know really well. “And I am sorry. I should have been more tactful in my proposition.”

You can’t help but laugh, embarrassed

“Oh, well, you know, I rarely get offered one night stand with such decorum, so all in all it was a good try.”

“A one night stand?” something in his tone makes you stop your movements.

He slowly rises and turns toward you. His gaze is incredulous and hard. What did you say? He approaches, you step back.

“(Y/n), do not tell me you thought I proposed for just one night?”

“Yes? I think?” You feel your cheeks burning.

He towers you with all his height, looming over you with his eyes burning with the backlight. He takes another step and you find yourself against the wall. What’s happening? He stares at you with an indecipherable expression.

“You…” He starts.

His eyes widen like he has a sudden realization. He holds the bridge of his nose and sighs, leaning against the wall with one arm.

“Maker, how could I let this derail this much?” He mutters to himself.

He looks at you straight in the eyes.

“(Y/n), I was not proposing only a passionate night.”

“What?” Your voice is a bit strangled.

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles.

“(Y/n), I was declaring you my love.”

Your mouth opens agape. You have no words. Is he…

He takes your hand to his cheek and brushes it with a pleased sigh.

“(Y/n), was it not obvious?”

“But… No!” You explode “Nothing about you is obvious! You talk about love but are you really sure of that?! You can’t just pop back into my life and deliver such a bomb, like that! You…” You have so much emotions bubbling up that you lose your word and just push him back and evade. “I’m engaged for maker’s sake!”

He doesn’t budge.

He presses his second arm on the wall brutally, trapping you between his hands.

“Then permit me to be brutally honest.”

He leans forward a bit to be at eye level with you.

“I can not let you say I do not know what I am talking about while this sentiment is eating me alive, making me make the most unreasonable decisions of my entire life.” He detaches the last words.

You squirm under his gaze but you don’t lower yours. You close your hands in fists.

“This is my fault. I thought I was obvious with you. You seemed receptive to my intentions so I thought my sentiments were shared.”

Of course you noticed his intention and you indulged in it! But you thought it was human behavior rubbing off on him and your friendship becoming more relaxed, you indulged in it with delusions imagining it was love in your fantasies, not thinking for a second he was serious.

“I love you, (Y/n).” He says without batting an eye.

Your heart flutters, your cheeks are setting ablaze

“I can’t, I’m engaged…” You try again, trying to get out of this mess.

"Then tell me" He answers softly "In the eyes, tell me that I do not have a single chance and I will let you be. You will never hear about me again, but you must tell me, (y/n)"

You're at loss of word

"I…"

He brings your hand to his chest and holds it.

"This heart beats for you, and I can not believe yours does not"

You feel your legs go weak, and your hands trembling. How can he say things like that? He slowly unknot your dressing gown, leaving you time to stop him. But you're too lost in your confusion to do anything. He sighs with pleasure at the sight of your babydoll, and holds your waist, caressing your flank with his thumb. Your skin is set ablaze where he touches you.

"You're too late…" You finally articulate. "Arzel already proposed to me."

"But did you agree?" He demands, inquisitive.

You remain silent.

"Did you agree?" He insists, hissing.

"I asked for time…" You concede in a breath.

"I see." He smiles, "So I still have time to tilt the scale."

Your mind is racing. This is not how it was supposed to end. You were supposed to ask about that night, getting confirmation it was just a one night thing without tomorrow, having a good laugh about it and going back into Arzel's arms without regrets.

But now…

Now you're effectively crossed between two fires.

He gently presses himself against you, smelling your hair with a satisfied sigh, his hand snake into your back, pulling you into his embrace. You try pushing back, but you have no conviction in your arms. You’re being squeezed into his arm, his musk filling your nose.

“Let me convince you.” His hand brushes your thigh, delicately grazing its way up to the hem of your babydoll..

You gasp.

He tenderly kisses your temple, the tip of his fingers following your jaw line to tilt your chin. He parts your lips with his thumb, you feel his breath on them.

“The ring, you kept it?” he strokes your lip.

“Yes…” You admit, gulping.

“I knew it.” He grins.

He slowly lean towards you

“Let me help you make a choice.” he murmurs.

Your lips are millimeters away. Your stomach is in knots. You’re panting…

“No!”

You push him back with both hands. He looks at you surprised and mute.

“No… If you want to convince me… “ You’re out of breath. “I don’t want to betray Arzel…”

You look at him.

And open your eyes wide.

He is smiling.

He looks at you like he already won.

“Is it a challenge?” He grins. “Because I feel especially in a competitive mood.”

“It's…” You feel like you wake up something dangerous.

“So be it.” He decides. “I will not force you to betray your fiance, I will make you choose me. You will put an end to this relationship yourself.” His hands brush your neck and come hold your cheek. He pulls you closer forcing you on your toes and looks you in the eyes. “Mark my words. Our friendship ends today. Whatever happens next, it will never define what is between us.”

“Then… What is it?” You ask a bit scared.

“This…” He kisses your forehead. “This depends on you.”

“You’re a cruel man...” you murmur.

“I know.” He chuckles.

And he releases you.

He left you panting, leaning against the wall for support. Your trembling legs can’t support you anymore and you have to sit down. You close back your dressing gown, feeling nude and exposed. You hold your head, a hand on your palpitating heart.

What now?

All your plans are on shambles.

You gulp, taking back your breath. You rise on your two feet, as good as one can and walk, shaky, to the dressed table. Thrawn is already seated, drinking a cup of caff, like nothing happened. Thank for your sanity he put back his shirt.

You put your weight on the chairs back to get to your seat, shaking.

“What might happened to you, for you to behave like this?” He asks with delectation in his voice.

He’s proud of himself, the son of a Bantha!

You remain in a dignified silence and serve yourself breakfast with trembling hands. He’s drinking his cup innocently, scrolling through his datapad, like he didn’t set fire to your soul. You eat little bite by little bite but serve yourself a large glass of juice. You’re so thirsty and still panting.

As you munch on your bread, your gaze keeps getting back at his stern and haughty expression. It’s not fair that he gets to break you like that. Do you have a way to even the plain field ? A malign thought makes his way to your head.

You sigh deeply, in an intended titillating way and open back your dressing gown, displaying your babydoll to his eyes. That sure catches his attention. He looks you up and down like he’s wondering what you’re on about.

“It’s so hot today…”

You fan yourself with one hand and play with the braces of your undergarment, letting them slide along your shoulder.

He stopped drinking mid-movement, clearly entranced. You see his chest rising as he deeply breathes, eyes glued to your sliding braces. His fingers fiddle with the handle of his cup, it’s the only sign of an internal turmoil, his face as unbothered as ever, if only for his rising eyebrow.

Arzel arrives with an ice pack pressed on his jaw, and a grumpy look. You immediately rise to see how he is, simpering with puppy eyes, you delicately hold his jaw and pepper kisses on it.

“Oh no, are you alright?”

Thrawn glances at you both, imprisoned in his mutism.

“I’ve been better…” He maugreates

“I’m so sorry…” You kiss him on the lips “...My love.”

A clanc resonates in the air. Thrawn put down his cup too hard. You both turn towards him, wondering what is up about him, even if you don’t have to wonder. Despite that if he’s frustrated or angry he hides it perfectly. His eyes are back on his datapad, he appears stiffer than usual, but you can’t say for sure.

“Not only that, I got an impromptu meeting that just added itself to my agenda.” Arzel sighs. “Looks like it’s me who will be forced to shorten my vacation.”

You look at him perplexed, a bit disappointed and a bit relieved.

"So it is the end?"

"It makes me feel bad, it's me who proposed those vacations. I can't throw you out like that." He passes his hand in his hair. "Does it bother you to stay alone together for some time ?"

You go for saying something but Thrawn is quicker.

"Absolutely not, Governor Satlov.” He rises from his seat. “It came to our attention that we had a lot of things to talk about.” He places himself next to you and wraps his arm around your exposed shoulders. “Go with an appeased mind, I will take great care of your fiance.” He says with a polite smile but the tip of his fingers caress your naked skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You feel goosebumps on your skin, and your breath gets shaky. Arzel looks at both of you.

“Well…It’s not like I have any choices anyway. I will entrust you with the mansion. I hope you won’t get too bored in my absence…” He explains with a sorry face.

“I had some physical exercises in mind, but (y/n) strictly forbid them.” Thrawn throws without missing a bit.

You tense up at the innuendo, what got to him to say things like that?

“If you intended to punch her like you did with me, I get why.” Azrel grimaces, massaging his painful jaw with the ice pack.

“Oh, I am not worried. I am sure (y/n) would make for a… competent and hardy adversary.”

ENOUGH, you’re gonna die of embarrassment and raw lust if this conversation continues. Quick, a diversion.

“What just came up?” You ask with a smile you hope is agreeable and not tense.

Arzel sighs again.

“It is about the feast. The organization is proceeding as planned but there are some inconveniences that slow down the all process. We have an agitator and we need to take care of it too.” He pouts. “I am truly sorry to abandon you like that…”

Thrawn presses you against him more.

“I am sure we will find plenty of ways of… amusing ourselves.”

You glance at him. Look at this smug bastard, with his satisfied grin plastered on his face…

Arzel shrugs and looks you up and down, frowning. He jumps on you and closes back your dressing gown.

“Roween, what indecence! The Grand Admiral surely doesn’t want to see that!”

I’m sure he does, you think but don’t say anything. Thrawn releases you and moves away, letting you some space with your fiance. You feel your stomach tied in knots, and the needle of culpability pierce through you. Arzel finishes arranging your gown, caressing your arms.

“I’m sorry.” he repeats.

“It’s okay.” You gently smile. “You’ll come back soon?”

“As soon as I can.”

He hugs you tightly, and as you give him back his embrace you feel the burn of a gaze on you. Under the arches, heading towards the interior ot the mansion, Thrawn is devouring you with his eyes with an indecipherable expression.

Your eyes meets.

You think you see hunger and something else.

Something…

… visceral

But above else you see loneliness and longing.

He disappears behind the wall, without uttering a word.

You gulp.

In what mess did you entangle yourself into?

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull

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yourchemicallyimbalancedromance · 1 year ago

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Something (Un)Familiar

Ship: none? Unless you count this as platonic LAMP lmao, also possible prinxiety?

CW/TW: heavy dissociation themes (like literally the main theme of this entire story revolves around dissociation.), also swearing

Summary: Roman wakes up in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night and panics, calling Virgil for help.

———————————————————————

The fluorescent streetlights above Roman were blinding; cutting, white circles. They pierced through his windshield and flooded into the car, lighting up the leather seats.

Roman had his head pressed against the headrest, barely conscious. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he immediately covered them with his arm, sucking in a breath at the light harshly beaming down on him. As the pressure in his eyes decreased and finally became adjusted to the light, he looked around, squinting, trying to look for cues of where he was.

The parking lot was empty, the only thing accompanying it being locked stores, rattling leaves on the pavement, and him.

Waves of fear racked his body, he saw his phone in the open glovebox and grabbed it, noticing that it was powered all the way off. He didn’t do that, did he?

His breath hitched further, he had no clue where he was, he was lost and he had absolutely no way of knowing how he had even gotten there in the first place.

He held down the volume and power button on his phone watching as it lit up and presented a passcode screen. He typed it in as fast as could, and with his entrance being accepted came hundreds of missed calls and messages. He scrolled through them.

Virgil: where the hell are you????? Patton is worried sick, literally. Text back soon, please.

Logan: Roman I think it’d be best if you answered your phone. No one is going to be upset at you, we are just concerned for your safety.

*13 missed calls from: Virgil* his lucky number, shit, he really fucked up.

Those were only a few of the multiple notifications from Virgil.

Patton hadn’t bothered texting, which made him feel nauseous.

With shaking hands, he quickly clicked on Virgil’s contact and began typing.

He deleted the message and began retyping again, and again, and again. This cycle repeated for a few minutes before he finally sent the message.

‘I’m fine. I don’t know where I am but I’m fine.’

The message was read immediately, a gray text box following hurriedly after it.

‘Holy hell you’re okay’

‘What the fuck Roman, you can’t just up and leave without explanation’

‘What do you mean you don’t know where you are.’

Roman shook his head, nerves still all over the place, the queasy feeling in his gut never left, only got increasingly worse.

He pressed the call button under Virgil’s contact and prayed to god he would answer. He picked up on the first ring.

“Virgil? Virg I don’t know— I don’t know where I am, I’m in my car but—“ he looked around, “I can’t see anything, it’s dark, I can’t read any of the signs. I- I don’t know how I got here”

He heard voices and then a muffled “Roman, Roman listen to me, we’re tracking your phone right now, it’s okay. Stay in your car, are the doors locked?”

Roman looked beside him, down at the little buttons on the car door, the lock button was pushed down, the lights streaming on it. “Mhm” he said, hushed.

“Okay, good. Do not get out of the car, do you understand? We just pinged your location. Roman—why are you in a bare parking lot?”

To this, Roman broke out into tears “I don’t know, I just— I woke up here and— Virgil, do you think I’m crazy?”

“You just—“ Virgil started, “The possibility of you being mentally deranged is extremely low, Roman. You are fine, this may be a case of amnesia due to dissociation” Logan butted in.

“Disso— what?” Roman choked out

“Dissociation. There are many types. For example, there’s Dissociative Identity disorder which has different subtypes such as OSDD which stands for Other Specified Dissociative Disorder and there’s DPDR which stands for Deperson-“

“Logan.” Virgil says sharply.

“Sorry. Right. Roman, what you are struggling with is dissociative amnesia, not being able to recall information about oneself, usually due to longterm stress and/or trauma. In this instance, you cannot remember how you found yourself where you are, and that’s okay. You are okay.” Logan explains all of this calmly, as if it is just another day, as if explaining why Roman is stranded is as normal as breathing to him.

Romans cries have died down to sniffles, and his eyes are darting around for any possible threats in the sea of darkness he finds himself in; the streetlights are slowly turning off one by one.

“Okay—okay just— when are you coming to get me?” Roman asks timidly, almost as if he’s not in the silence of his own car, no one around to hear him.

“You’re about 15 minutes away,” Logan says, “we’ll text you when we’re close so you can turn your headlights on” there’s a silence between them before he adds, “to make it easier to find you.”

Roman nods even though Logan can’t see him, he realizes this and adds a soft “okay”

———————————————————————

It felt like hours before Roman got the message Logan was talking about.

Logan: ‘We are a minute away, please turn your headlights on.’

Roman fumbled for his keys and put them in the ignition, turning them and jumping at the sound of the engine running.

He turned on his headlights quickly as he heard a car pull up beside him and park, the gravel on the lot kicking up and landing a few feet away in all directions.

Logan was driving the car while Virgil was holding Patton in the backseat, who was still visibly shaken.

Logan got out of the car, putting little pressure on the door to close it; Virgil and Patton followed behind.

Roman opened his door immediately and clung to Logan. He didn’t react immediately, just froze for a second before patting him on the back. “It’s alright, Roman. you’re okay.” He whispered soothingly.

Anyone else would’ve heard nothing but a monotone voice speaking into the cold air, but he heard it; the delicateness, the careful wording.

Roman let go and was immediately pulled into the embrace of Patton who was almost crying. It was a silent and drawn out hug, neither side saying anything; almost as if everything they needed to say had disappeared once they saw each other; Patton let go.

“If you ever scare me like that again I’m going to murder you I swear to god.” Virgil grumbled, only half joking.

Roman looked uncomfortable and fidgety at the mention of death considering anything could have happened to him while unconscious, he didn’t say anything about it, just said “sorry..”

Logan cleared his throat, “if I may interject for a second,” he looked around to make sure everyone was listening, “Roman I am extraordinarily content with the finding that you are alive and well but it is approximately 37 degrees outside. We need to get you home.”

Roman nodded in agreement.

“Alright, Let’s go. Virgil and Patton, you ride with Roman and make sure he’s well; I’ll take my car back and follow you.”

Everyone scattered to their cars and the sound of doors slamming shut filled the air. Roman was now in the passenger seat instead of the front seat, Virgil was in the front; He slowly backed out of the parking lot and headed towards their home.

Out of impulse, Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand. It was cold, but he didn’t mind it, he liked the psychical contact, it reminded him of the fact that he was alive and safe.

Virgil smiled, trying to hide it by looking in the rear view mirror, pretending to check for anything behind them. It was a dumb idea, really, it was 12:30 AM and no one would be out that late where they lived; he liked how hard he tried though.

Patton didn’t say anything the whole way home, only gave Roman the occasional glance to make sure he was okay.

He was fine with it, the silence, the lack of words. He didn’t need it, only needed their presence, only needed to hold and be held by the person he loved the most, Virgil, even if it was just hand-holding; he was fine with that.

And he didn’t know it, but Virgil was too.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #ts patton #patton sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #dissociation mention #ts anxiety #ts creativity #ts logic #ts morality

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ali-anne-undertale-stoof · 3 months ago

Text

Aaaaaaand here's the second half of chapter 5!

First half

Chapter 5: Bone To Be Popular:

"THIS SONG IS TRENDING RIGHT NOW??!!!"

Papyrus cannot fathom what he is hearing. It's like some poppy, washed out remix of some other song from 20 years ago. This is what the kids are listening to?! It's nonsensical at best!!!

"THE MUSIC INDUSTRY THESE DAYS... OH, WELL!! IF THIS IS WHAT IT TAKES TO MAKE FRIENDS ONLINE, THEN SO BE IT!!! THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL GO VIRAL!!! I WILL!!!"

It took Papyrus a while to learn all the steps, but with hard work and dedication, he managed it. Once he finally uploaded the video, he felt proud. It was awkward, and certainly not the first thing Papyrus himself would do, but if it will make him popular, he's willing to do whatever it takes to-

DING!

Papyrus gasped in joy. A notification! Did someone like his video?! Papyrus eagerly opened the Undernet app and...

It was a selfie of Sans outside of the library, his smug smile peeking out of the left-hand corner as he points up at the misspelled sign. Underneath it was a caption.

'hey, bro, did you do this?'

...

Papyrus didn't want to risk throwing his phone out of the window again, but the prospect was too tempting.

CRASH!

That poor window.

20K?! 20K likes?! Overnight?! When Papyrus saw the notifications flooding both his phone AND his computer, he thought his mandible was gonna fall off his cranium!

"I... IT'S... I'M FINALLY... POPULAR!!! POPULAR!!! POPULAR!!!" The delighted skeleton couldn't help but dance around the room in a flourish, "delicately tapping" his toes, which caught the attention of a certain sleepy skeleton that was TRYING to take a nap downstairs, but was now peeking his head around Papyrus' bedroom door.

"sup, bro?"

The first thing Papyrus did was dive towards Sans and show off his likes. "SANS!!! I FINALLY DID IT!!! I FIGURED OUT THE SECRET TO FRIENDSHIP!!!"

"oh, wow. that's a really nice video, bro."

"I KNOW, RIGHT?" An ecstatic squeal broke out of the hyperactive wannabe star, before he started running up and down the room. Sans couldn't help but let out a light chuckle.

"I THINK I FINALLY GOT IT!! TO MAKE FRIENDS... YOU HAVE TO DO WHAT EVERYONE ELSE LIKES TO DO!!!"

Sans squinted at that sentence. This could either go really well or really bad. "uhh, you know that's just-"

"SHUT IT, SANS!!! YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS THAT YOU'RE NOT AS POPULAR AS I AM!! I HAVE FIGURED OUT THE ART OF BEING 'TRENDY', AND NOW THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM A MASTER... I WILL BE ABLE TO MAKE ALL THE FRIENDS IN THE WORLD!!! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!!!"

"well... okay. whatever makes you happy, bro. just don't do something stupid, okay?"

"OH, SANS!!! I WOULDN'T EVEN DREAM OF IT!"

"heh, alright, then. i trust you," Sans yawned. "speaking of dreams... i think i'm just gonna get a little more shuteye."

"SANS, DON'T BE RIDICULOUS! IT'S ONLY 6AM!"

Sans cannot fathom how Papyrus has this much energy so early in the morning. He gave Papyrus a curious, yet fond glance before leaving. With Sans out of the way, Papyrus glanced back at his phone.

"ALRIGHT!!! NOW WITH THAT, I SUPPOSE IT IS TIME FOR MORE 'TRENDS'. I CAN'T WAIT TO PLEASE MY NEW FRIENDS!! NYEH HEH HEH!!!"

12K, 4 followers. Papyrus found this trend where monsters took random objects and turned them into pants. He found a box of scarves and turned them into pants. The likes he got from that post was almost worth the relentless teasing and laughter from his brother. That said, Papyrus thought he looked good in his homemade scants. Yes, that's what he called it. No, it's not ridiculous, what are you talking about?!

A few comments asked Papyrus to try a special dance from a couple of years ago. Something to do with crossing your wrists, bouncing your hands up and down and skipping around? It looked silly, but Papyrus was in for it!

16K, 13 followers. The dance was so much fun, and the music was top notch too, even though Papyrus didn't understand the language. Heck, even Sans joined in... Before he knocked the camera over and ruined the whole thing. But it got Papyrus some new friends, so he was willing to let that one slide.

Someone requested that Papyrus does the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Apparently it's for raising awareness for a human condition called ALS! Well, how could he say no? Sure, Papyrus has no idea what it is and had never seen a human in his life, but he knew how compassionate monsters can be. He couldn't help but wonder how monsters even found out about this trend in the first place, though. Nonetheless, The Great Papyrus is up for anything!

The challenge took place outside their house. Papyrus stood right next to the mailboxes (one of them was quickly filling up with bills), and Sans stood on a stepladder, struggling to keep the full bucket upright.

"HELLO, MY WONDERFUL FOLLOWERS! IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, COMING AT YOU WITH ANOTHER TREND KNOWN AS THE ICE BUCKET CHALLENGE!! NYEH HEH HEH!!! I HAVE MY BROTHER HERE, ALSO, WHO WILL ADMINISTER THE POURING OF THE ICE WHEN I SAY 'GO!'"

"what? go?"

"NO GO."

"go?"

"NO GO!"

"go?"

"NO!!!!" Papyrus couldn't tell whether Sans was joking or he was just being literal. "NOW, I AM NOT QUITE SURE ABOUT WHAT THIS ALS IS, BUT I KNOW IT IS VERY IMPORTANT FOR HUMANS TO BE AWARE OF IT!! SO WITH THAT, I NOMINATE ALL MY FOLLOWERS TO GO TRY THIS CHALLENGE AT HOME!!!"

"go?"

"NO GO!!!"

"go?"

"NO GO!!!!!" Papyrus shot Sans a threatening glare. It wasn't very effective. All Sans did was provide an innocent shrug.

The tall skeleton sighed before continuing. "IF ANY HUMANS END UP WATCHING THIS... I KNOW OUR TWO SPECIES HAVEN'T SEEN EYE TO EYE IN THE PAST, BUT I HOPE THAT WITH OUR SUPPORT, YOU CAN STAY DETERMINED AND PUSH THROUGH THIS TERRIBLE DISEASE!!! OH, AND ALSO, MAKE SURE TO DROP A LIKE, AND GO FOLLOW ME ON-"

Splat! There goes the bucket of snow, right on Papyrus' head, bucket and everything. Wait, snow? SNOW??? Papyrus practically vibrated with fury.

"SSSSSAAAAAAAANS!!!!!"

Sans shrunk into his oversized, black hoodie. "what? you said 'go'."

Papyrus bit his scarf, trying to keep his COOL. "SANS. I WAS OBVIOUSLY TELLING THE VIEWERS TO GO FOLLOW ME."

"oh, whoops. sorry, wasn't paying attention."

Papyrus' anger should have dissipated, but it didn't. There was something else he wanted to discuss.

"WHY IS THIS BUCKET FULL OF SNOW? IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE ICED WATER."

"well, snow's kind of like ice, right?"

Papyrus' body shook so hard it started rattling with fury. His strange googly eyes bulged out of his head, and their pupils didn't shift from Sans' own eye sockets.

"uhh... bro?"

"SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANS!!!!!!!!!"

The video cut off from there. Papyrus was hesitant to upload it, due to him still being so angry at Sans for not doing the challenge right, but apparently his followers found that absolutely hysterical, so he let it pass.

22K, 19 followers. Someone had requested that Papyrus throw a magic bullet at someone while they're sleeping. Apparently it's a trend. Well, if it will get him more friends! Sorry, Sans!

Papyrus launched a bone at a sleeping Sans. - 0 HP.

He retaliated with a blaster to the face. -1 HP.

Worth it!

22K, 26 followers. Loads of comments were demanding that Papyrus tries wearing denim clothes. Someone, please, end his suffering.

It got him plenty of likes, but Papyrus was happy as ever to burn those clothes in the backyard with Sans afterwards. So itchy and scratchy! How could anyone stand them???

22K, 28 followers. People were, very loudly mind you, requesting that Papyrus tries the cinnamon challenge. Apparently one has to eat an entire spoonful of cinnamon. Papyrus wondered if that was even safe. Either way, his followers want him to, so...

He began recording.

"HELLO, FELLOW FRIENDS AND FOLLOWERS!!! IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, ALSO KNOWN AS COOLSKELETON, AND I'M BACK WITH ANOTHER REQUEST FROM YOU LOVELY PEOPLE!!! THIS TIME IT IS THE... CINNAMON CHALLENGE?!?! I MUST ADMIT, I HAVE NO IDEA WHY SOMEONE WOULD SHOVE A SPOONFUL OF STRAIGHT CINNAMON INTO THEIR MOUTH, BUT IT'S ALL FOR FUN, SO... I SHALL JUST HAVE TO MAKE IT GREAT!!! AS I USUALLY AM!!! NYEH HEH HEH!!!" He hesitantly lifted the spoon up to his mouth. He knew from Sans that consuming cinnamon like this wasn't the best idea. But it's too late to turn back, now that he's a superstar social media influencer.

Speaking of Sans, he didn't notice the short skeleton walk through the kitchen doorway, only to find his brother trying to consume a spoonful of cinnamon.

"hey, bro, whatcha doin'?"

Papyrus' surprised gasp caused the spicy powder to fly straight up his nasal cavity. And before Papyrus could even respond...

"A... ACHOO!!!"

He sneezed straight into the bowl of cinnamon on the countertop. As he opened his eyes, Papyrus realised that the brownish powder was now absolutely EVERYWHERE. On the walls, on the counter... even on Sans' face! Still, Sans didn't seem bothered about that. He was more bothered by what Papyrus was attempting to do. He didn't show it, of course. Typical Sans. But Papyrus would say he is pretty good at reading Sans anyway. After all, he was stuck with him for pretty much their whole lives. You pick up a thing or two about someone when you're with them for that long.

"S-SANS!!! W-WHY DID YOU INTERRUPT MY VIDEO??" Yeah, that's right! Cover your shame with irritation! That's totally going to work!

"uhh... i just wanted to see what you were up to. guess i accidentally... spiced up the kitchen?

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

Sans chuckled nervously. Despite the lighthearted banter, he couldn't help but glance at the camera that Papyrus is using to record his video on. It looked pretty old. Why doesn't he just use his phone? Either way, he had to stop this before Papyrus hurts himself.

"say, uh, do you mind if i look at that camera for a second? i think it's got some cinnamon on it."

"OH! OF COURSE!"

Sans turned off the camera.

His popularity was stagnating. Those four words played in a loop in Papyrus' head, as he laid there in his race car bed, staring at his phone, Peekaboo with Fluffy Bunny on the nearest table, in the darkness of his room. Papyrus knew it was nighttime, only from the darkness, the sound of Sans' sleepy mumbling and snoring from the neighbouring bedroom, and the numbers on his phone staring at him.

01:52 AM. Despite the bedtime story, Papyrus couldn't sleep. Not tonight. He was too busy thinking about what to do to earn more followers. To earn more FRIENDS. Being friends with everyone sounded so easy on Undernet. So why? Why is it so hard?

He enjoyed doing those trends... with some exceptions. But Papyrus couldn't help but notice that whenever he wasn't doing those trends... Whenever he just wanted to do his own thing... He didn't get as many likes as he got when he was doing those trends.

It's fine. It doesn't hurt at all. He's still great, whether he's doing those trends or not... right?

That's what Sans said. And Papyrus trusts Sans more than anyone. His brother is smart, so... He has to be right.

Papyrus decided it was best to distract himself for a minute. He searched through other accounts on Undernet.

One account was full of terrible jokes. Papyrus remembered the username, SN0W3. He hopes his mother's okay.

Another showcased what life is like on a snail farm. Those two ghosts there. They look happy together. He doesn't know their names, but they seem to be related. Papyrus cracked a smile. It reminded him of him and Sans.

Then there was an account run by some kind of anime-loving yellow lizard. From what Papyrus could gather from the photo, she likes hanging out in some kind of trash dump area with a cat monster and a crocodile monster. They were decked out in anime merch. Papyrus isn't a huge fan of anime, but good for them.

His eye sockets darted to the amount of likes these photos got. They weren't very popular. No help there. He followed the lizard's account, anyway. She seemed charming enough.

Papyrus internally sighed and rolled to his side, this time scrolling through the home page. So much content. So many people with so much cool content, with so many friends...

Yes, he did say to himself that he had to distract himself. But no matter what he did, Papyrus always thought back to the numbers on his posts. The followers... The friends he could make. Friends he has to please. He keeps scrolling, determined to find something, ANYTHING, to ensure that people like him.

That's when he spots it.

The Bleach Crackle Challenge.

According to this website, The Bleach Crackle Challenge consisted of taking a shot of bleach and gargling it, causing a violent reaction in their magic, usually in the form of sparks. Papyrus wanted to cringe at their coughing, spluttering, and throwing up, but then he looked at the numbers again. Maybe... Maybe this will please his followers. It's worth a shot. And what's the worst that could happen? He's a skeleton! It could just fall out of his ribs for all he knew!

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he will do this.

Because making friends.

Is about.

Doing.

Whatever.

They WANT you to do.

And knowing his followers... They were going to request this eventually.

So he might as well just give them what they want.

The camera's on.

"H-HELLO, MY LOYAL FOLLOWERS!!! IT IS I, THE G-GREAT PAPYRUS, BACK WITH ANOTHER CHALLENGE!!! NYEH HEH... HEH..."

Holding the shot of bleach, Papyrus can feel his hands shaking. He tried not to let any liquid pour out as he spoke.

"SO, I FOUND THIS POPULAR TREND ON THE UNDERNET. APPARENTLY C-CONSUMING... THIS... WILL HARBOR SOME C-COOL EFFECTS!! IT'S, UM... I-I HAVE NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT, REALLY!!! OBVIOUSLY, DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME... B-BUT I AM A SKELETON, A COOLSKELETON AT THAT!!! NYEH! SO, UM, THEORETICALLY..."

He held it up so it lined up with his eye sockets.

"I S-SHOULD... BE... F-FINE..."

He can feel the stench creep up his nasal cavity and into his eye sockets. He didn't want to do this... He didn't want to do this! But it's too late to turn back now.

Papyrus shakily brought it up to his teeth. Oh, god. He could feel it already, and he hadn't even-

Uh oh.

That was not a welcome sight to see.

Sans. Standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Deep, black eye sockets.

Papyrus was in big trouble.

Before he could lower the glass, Sans bliped right next to him and gently took the glass. Those empty sockets... He knew his brother wasn't playing around.

Sans carefully poured the bleach back into its original container and put the shotglass in the sink. Next, he turned off the camera once again.

Papyrus didn't know why, but he felt a deep sense of resentment and... is that shame? Whatever it was, it was boiling up inside him. He squeezed his eye sockets shut, suppressing an undeserved yell. He had to keep reminding himself that Sans was just trying to protect him. He can't be reasonably angry about that. He can't...

"GOSH DARN IT, SANS!!!"

His eyelights steadily returning, Sans spoke with a delicately soft tone. "papyrus... is something-"

Papyrus immediately brushed Sans off. "RAARRRGH!!!" And stormed upstairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

What... What just happened?

A cautious knock at the door.

A deadpan response. "COME IN."

A loud, but not obnoxious creak as the door slided open.

A worried brother standing at the door.

"heya."

A tear-stained skeleton who cannot even spare the worried brother a glance. He's just too busy working on his resume. And by "working on his resume", it means he's tapping the C key over and over as a nervous tic. Papyrus hated to see his brother upset. Especially because of him.

"listen, i just wanted you to know... if you ever wanted to talk about somethin'-"

"I'M FINE, SANS."

Sans' eyelights fell to the carpet, disbelieving. "are you sure?"

"DON'T WORRY. IT'S... NOT THAT DEEP."

"so... why?"

"IT WAS JUST A TREND. THE WHAT-DO-YOU-CALL-IT, BLEACH, CRACKLE THING."

The eyelights disappear again as Sans spoke in a hushed whisper. "you tried the bleach crackle challenge?! the challenge that got 5 kids hospitalised?!"

Papyrus lost his deadpan tone. "WELL, I DIDN'T KNOW IT GOT CHILDREN HOSPITALISED, SANS!!!" He swiveled around to glare at his brother with tears in his eyes.

"bro, i hate to tell you this, but that was-"

"STUPID?!"

"well, yes."

Papyrus huffed. He knew he had no right to be angry at Sans, but... but...

"ARRGH!!! WHY IS MAKING FRIENDS SO COMPLICATED?!"

Sans' worried thoughts skid to a halt. So THAT'S what this is about?

"all of this was for clout, wasn't it?"

That did it. Papyrus squeezed his eye sockets shut, gesticulating violently with his hands.

"WELL, I'M SORRY!!! I JUST WANTED TO BE POPULAR AND HAVE LOTS OF FRIENDS AND RESPECT AND RECOGNITION AND LOVE AND PRAISE AND HUGS AN-AND EVERYTHING GOOD THAT COMES WITH A FRIENDSHIP, AND Y-YOU KNOW, TO HAVE FRIENDS, YOU HAVE TO GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT!!!!"

"did... people really ask you to-"

"NO!!! BUT... IT WAS SO POPULAR, I FIGURED IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE THEY DID, YOU KNOW?" Papyrus hiccupped. "A-A-AND I HAVE TO MAKE THEM HAPPY, OTHERWISE I'D NEVER... I'D- MY POPULARITY LEVELS WILL REMAIN STAGNANT!!! AND... AND..." He slumped.

Something in Sans began to stir, more than ever. A heavy, achy feeling settled in his ribcage, and it was only becoming more and more unbearable the longer he looked at his precious brother in this state. Without even thinking about it, Sans slowly walked up to his distraught brother, and sat on the floor beside him.

"papyrus..." It took a few seconds to figure out what to say, "there's a difference between followers and friends. you know that, right?"

Papyrus sniffled, still glaring at the floor. "IT'S THE CLOSEST I'VE EVER FELT TO HAVING SOME."

"really, now? did it make you happy to get those followers?"

Papyrus opened his mouth to speak, before Sans raised a hand to interject.

"speak wisely."

Papyrus paused. Was he happy just focusing on the likes and followers? Looking back, all he could remember feeling was stress.

"say, uh... i'm not saying don't follow the latest trends. it's not something i would personally go for, but i can understand the appeal. after all, some of those things you did were pretty fun, right?"

Papyrus stopped shedding tears in favour of a blank face. Come to think of it, the pranks, the silly dances, the ice bucket... Those were pretty fun to do.

"YEAH..."

The ache in Sans' ribcage began to dissipate.

"heh heh... people like doing those trends because they're fun. so perhaps it's worth putting aside the likes and start focusing on the fun side."

Oh, Sans. You always know what to say, Papyrus thought. He flashed Sans a grateful smile.

"YEAH... YEAH!!! IF THEY WERE REAL FRIENDS, THEY SHOULD LIKE ME REGARDLESS OF WHAT GOOFY STUFF I POST ON UNDERNET, RIGHT?"

"that's right, buddy." Sans gave Papyrus' knee a gentle pat, before standing up. "say, bro?"

"YEAH?"

"i have an idea. why don't we make something new together? no clout. no stress. just two bros, having fun and doing goofy stuff on the internet. whaddya say?"

The smile of gratitude just became a smile of joyous anticipation.

"WOWIE, SANS!! I THINK I WOULD LIKE THAT... A LOT!!!"

With that, Papyrus swivelled back to the computer and changed tabs. Sans stood by, trying to peek over his shoulder.

"whatcha doin'?"

"DELETING MY OLD ACCOUNT. I WANT TO START FRESH! HOW DOES 'COOLSKELETON95' SOUND TO YOU?"

"you know what, bro? i love it."

Click, click!

The first video Papyrus uploaded onto his new account was a cover of his favourite pop song! The twins dressed up in ridiculously poppy outfits and sang and danced their heart out. And the entire time, Papyrus was only focused on the song and his brother. The dancing, the laughing... It was all really fun! Papyrus was so happy to have Sans doing this with him. This marked the beginning of a new era... As far as the internet went, anyway.

3 hours of editing later, Papyrus finally uploaded the video on his new account. And... Nothing yet.

Papyrus smiled anyway. He made something he was proud of. Something fun, that didn't put him in danger or under any pressure to keep creating things that only his followers wanted. This was truly a place where Papyrus can express himself. And who knows? Maybe even some real friends will come flocking to him... one day.

He heard Sans calling from downstairs. "hey, bro, i found this sick console in the basement. you wanna see if we can fix it up?"

Oh, well! The Great Papyrus' job is never done! Papyrus happily sprung out of his office chair and marched out the room, filled with a newfound sense of true confidence.

...

The video got one like.

#undertale #papyrus #sans #fanfic #my writing #snowdin adventures

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polyamorouspunk · 2 years ago

Note

I'm new to tumblr as of literally earlier this week and while I think I've mostly settled I'm still trying to figure things out and maybe you could give me a hand lmao

I'm seeing some cool little things on peoples blogs/posts and I'm trying to figure them out myself but I have a feeling they're only for the webapp/desktop

Things like that are

Links that are underlined

A fun little ask box button

Also trying to figure out a pinned about me post that's not like, cringe

Figuring out when/what to tag

How to turn off notifications for when I reblog things

How not to see myself on my following page

Linked posts and ask box customization are both on desktop, correct!

All about me pinned posts are cringe, that’s the point, feel free to roll with it.

Tag anything that’s a “sensitive topic” at least with “[topic]”, “[topic] trigger warning”, or “[topic] TW”. Make sure the word goes first though! And don’t put commas in tags. I, personally, always try and tags things that are eyestraining and anything with flashing lights. It’s important to me that epileptics stay safe on my blog. If you want to tag anything else, go ahead. People usually have a tag to track asks like I do, people usually tag fandom posts, people tag personal/original posts vs reblogs, people tagged queued posts, etc.

Notifications on mobile are tricky, I have turned off notifications for the entire app, same with Instagram. I just don’t need to be flooded with notifications. I wish I could turn on messages only.

Not sure why you see yourself on your following page, but you can hide that from other people.

Anyway, thank you so much for following! I’m honored I’m one of the first blogs you’ve followed!

#punk gets mail

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takethejourney · 7 months ago

Text

mobile friendly guidelines

hi there! my name is sunny, i’m 32 years old, i use she/they pronouns, and i live in the central time zone. i appreciate you taking the time to follow my blog and read through these guidelines. i’ll try to keep them short.

this blog is 18+ only. minors, do not follow me. i will block you on the spot if i find out you’re underage. followers that don’t display their age somewhere on their blog will also be blocked. i’m not going to take that risk.

nsfw is welcome here. that said, all nsfw interactions will be put under a read more and tagged with ‘nsfw tw’

personals, do not reblog my interactions. you can follow me, like my posts if you enjoy what you’ve read, and even send in asks and/or interact with me in instant messages if you want to ask my muse questions or chat, but if you reblog my threads, i’m blocking you without further warning. it messes with my notifications and might make me miss replies.

please don’t spam-like my posts either. again, it floods my notifications and might make me miss something. i’ll ask you to stop if i see this happening. if it doesn’t, i’ll be blocking you.

if possible, please reblog art and askbox games from the source. this isn’t always able to be done since blogs or original posts get deleted, but if you can, please do it to help keep my notifications focused mainly on roleplay.

i am mutuals only. this is purely for my own peace of mind. if your rp blog is a sideblog, i expect that information to be somewhere easily visible on your blog, or for you to tell me outright in my ask box or instant messages.

if you are a mutual that no longer wishes to be mutuals, please hard block my blog. this will force me to unfollow you, and hard blocking means i won’t get confused, think the unfollow was a glitch in the system, and refollow.

i am multiverse & multiship. this means all romantic interactions will be separate from each other and do not mingle.

i love romantic relationships between muses. they make me happy. if you’re interested in shipping with my muse, chances are i’ll be interested too. that said, i ship with chemistry; a relationship needs to be built up through interactions. i usually can’t do anything pre-established, though there have been exceptions.

i tend to take a while to respond to threads and asks. if i haven’t replied to our thread in about a week, feel free to ask me about it. i can tell you if it’s in my drafts or queue. on that same note, i am trying to put most of my replies on a queue system. there are exceptions, but expect this to be the norm.

my only trigger is visuals of animal abuse/needless death. this is especially true for cats. i also have squicks, but they aren’t nearly as important to tag as the trigger. my squicks are: real world politics, rpc drama, anon hate, constant negativity, and visuals of eye or neck gore.

i think that’s it! if i think of anything else, i’ll add it in here. thanks for reading! <3

#( ooc )

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prathapokleaslevelmediastudies · 1 year ago

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Storyline

Research and Planning

This is my storyline.

Eva the protagonist is a dedicated self made designer .

laying on her bed with an emotionless face and she looks at the stick note placed on the wall addressing that the design needs to be submitted on 26 of September in her mind she should have been done with the draft but, in those starting days all she did was sat in a dark room with a table lamp in front of a blank sheet and laptop screen staring at it for an hour rethinking and questioning all the decision she took, tries to sketch something but crumbles it and throws it away in a over flooded trash can . breathes and gets up hopelessly climbing up her bed. She's on a bed moving like a child in a womb as if she's growing like a baby. a message pops up on her phone from her boss regarding the status of the project.

She goes to the kitchen and her phone notification comes up “5 missed calls from Sam” her boyfriend she fills a glass with water and the phone rings MOM calling she cuts the call and moves. Days passed with those sleepless nights where she wanted to work and finish the task, but her mind and soul was drained out. as a single day passed, she drew a cross on the calendar.

a day later Suddenly her bell rings and she open the door looking at her boyfriend with baggy eyes and dark circles, opens the door. He comes in, they have a huge fight, and he leaves. Her phone rings, mom calling, she picks and shouts at her and says, “why are you calling me again and again if I'm not picking up the call that means I'm busy”. The bell rings and she get up, opens and finds a parcel on the doorstep.

She slid the door, but it was slightly open. She gets the parcel in and tries to open it, takes a knife as the parcel is packed tightly it doesn't open easily. She throws the parcel towards a shelf, and it falls. she looks at the knife then her wrist repeats this for two times and then she looks at herself in the mirror and has an emotional breakdown. She gets up, goes in front of the sink and washes her face trying to calm herself down but the tears are not stopping. followed by her laying on her bed. Suddenly a man comes into the room and touches her hair softly (flashback: she slides the door, but it is slightly open).

She looks at him and feels a sense of relief knowing that he was Sam. Eva asks him “why are you here, i told you not to come”. He was quiet, cleaning her room, opening the curtains and arranging all the mess on her desk. He went into the kitchen and started preparing coffee for her, came into her room and placed the coffee on the desk, played a song and changed the dead sunflower with the fresh ones. She gets up and hugs him from behind as she hears the lyrics Loving and fighting, accusing, denying I can't imagine a world with you gone, hold on by chord Overstreet. She goes back to her work (fade through black).

They are sitting on the sofa in a cozy blanket watching a movie notebook, a half-eaten pizza box and a glass of coke placed on the coffee table. Suddenly a mail pops up from her client addressing how brilliantly her work was. She's feeling happy and grateful, she looks at Sam and smile and he kisses her on the forehead and says, “I'll always be here.”

End

The images are added for visual representation only.

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dadtrap-the-nonbinary-pirate · 1 year ago

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Again sorry for flooding my followers/mutuals dashboards/notifs with user boxes if I did!

#sorry!#Acc creator speaks

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frmthe-air · 2 years ago

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Green Pastures (turf is not grass)

It was a beautiful spring day outside, birds chirping, the wind gently whistling. I was inside in my mom’s living room sitting in the dark with my work laptop on a tray table. The screen glaring hard into my face increasing the intensity of my headache.

I was fighting back tears and struggling to even move my hands to type. The emails and notifications just kept coming in. I couldn’t do it. My head was throbbing, my brain felt like it had gotten into a boxing match with Mike Tyson. The pings just kept going.

Ba Boom

I could now feel my heartbeat in my head. I was going crazy. I texted my girlfriend a short text message.

“My head is killing me”. She quickly responded — “Babe just tell them you have a migraine and call out for the day”.

I knew that’s what I needed to do but I was just so afraid to call out. My girlfriend saw that I read the message then quickly followed up with another sharp text, that would pierce me.

“Since the day you started working there, you haven’t taken a single day off, just take a break”.

She was right, it had been nearly 6–7 months of work where I did not call off. Had the migraine not been so painful I wouldn’t have texted my supervisor that I needed the day off.

When I sent the message via Slack my supervisor gladly relieved me of my duties. “It was that easy?” I said in my head.

Half-a-year earlier when I had taken this job I was fueled with so much happiness that I was running twice a day just to burn off the energy and excitement I had. Now the reality I was facing was completely different.

All the euphoria I experienced of being on the other side in a reputable company was costing me my physical health and sanity. As I grabbed the Tylenol out of the bathroom to rest and ease my mind, a flood of thoughts rushed to me.

In the previous article I talked about the episode of Spongebob when he was trying to get in the Salty Spitoon. The question “How tough are you?” was multiplying all across my head. I wasn’t that tough that day and I realized I was too excited to get into the club not seeing that it wasn’t even my type of party.

I thought to myself — this can’t be the life my friends and colleagues were living. I had this false image that the grass was greener on the other side. Some of the benefits I wanted were true. When I checked my bank account I was comfortable so I had gotten some of the pie. I was just unaware of what that pie would cost me.

That day taught me these two things.

Love your life. the good the bad and the ugly. Everyone’s life looks good from a LENS but you don’t know how it feels to exist in their WORLD. Had I been more loving to my journey I wouldn’t have jumped to join someone else’s.

Know who you are. Just because an opportunity seems exciting or everyone seems to be on it doesn’t mean that’s it for you. Go to the parties where you’ll have fun and not just look cool.

An extra thing this scenario taught me was about rest. I’ll have to cover that another day. Stick around to here my story about how my life changed when I decided to get more sleep.

Thanks,

Frmthe air

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skzhocomments · 2 months ago

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Thank you for reading <3 Here: Alternative Ending to heal your broken heart

---

Chris's head is pounding with pain as he opens his eyes and realises that the place looks eerily familiar.

His neck starts hurting the moment he sits up in his chair, but he doesn’t pay the pain much mind, as he is more confused than ever. He recognises the place as his old studio back when he was still working at JYPE. How many years ago was that? Way too many.

The confusion only intensifies when he looks at his hands and sees them devoid of any wrinkles and dark spots, and he immediately gets alerted. He pinches his skin, as if to see if it would hurt, and the pain comes immediately. If this is a dream, it’s a way too realistic one.

He sees his phone lying on the table and stretches to grab it, and once he unlocks it, the picture of you, his favourite, is staring back at him. He swears he was at the cemetery and saw this exact picture on your gravestone just the other day.

The next wave of confusion comes when he notices the date and time. It’s way past 12PM, and the date is your death anniversary, the same year you passed. Only this time around, his phone is not flooding with notifications. The only unread messages are from you, and you seem worried.

“I can’t believe you didn’t come home last night. Do you really want to break up?”

He shoots up the moment he reads it and stops overthinking, dialling your number instead. If this is really a dream, he’s happy he gets to see you one last time.

“Yes.” You answer, your tone slightly annoyed.

“Babe.” His eyes swell up with tears when he hears your voice.

“What?”

“I love you.” He bursts into crying. “I love you. I’m so, so sorry for what I’ve said last night. I need you more than anything. Where are you? At home?”

“Wow, I was expecting you to apologise, but…” You chuckle briefly. “Yes. Are you coming for lunch?”

“Yeah.” He wipes his tears. “I’m coming. Please wait for me.”

“Of course. Love you.”

“Love you.”

Chris has never run as fast to his car before. He barely sees the roads and even if it’s been decades, he still remembers the drive between your shared former apartment and the studio. He gets back home in 10 minutes, a record, as the drive usually takes him 20 at least.

He types in your old passcode, and as the door opens, you’re there.

You’re there.

He can’t believe it.

You’re there, alive, and breathing. There are no empty plates and half-drunk glasses of water stained by your lipstick on the table. He looks at the sink, and they’re currently drying. You’ve washed them.

There is no box of tampons on the counter, no jewellery on the coffee table. Your hairbrush is clean, your face serums rearranged. The bed is made.

You’ve cleaned up.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask after you follow him erratically moving from room to room.

“I’m… oh, God. Baby, come here.” He comes and hugs you tightly, starting to cry again.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You frown, a bit taken aback by his behaviour. Sure, you’ve fought, but still.

“How… how did you get home last night?”

“Well, initially I was super upset and wanted to walk back home to clear my mind, but I saw a cab in front of the building and the driver called my name, so I assumed you ordered me one. Didn’t you?”

“I… oh, my God. I can’t believe this.” Chris cries even harder, hugging you tighter, until you eventually pull back, truly concerned.

He starts kissing you, apologising over and over and over, and he’s never felt more grateful.

You’re alive. He’s been given a second chance.

The Five Stages of Grief - Bang Chan Oneshot Fanfic

(And a second cover because I couldn't decide)

General Masterlist

Pairing: Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x OC/Reader (Story is written in 2nd person, no name is mentioned)

Genre: angst

Word Count: ~10k

Warnings: death, devastatingly sad, mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts. No comfort, although it does end in a positive note. Ending is hopeful if you squint.

This is just a story that doesn’t describe Bang Chan or other mentioned Stray Kids’ members true characters in any way. It’s just a product of my imagination and should be treated as such.

This story is also on Wattpad (click here) and AO3 (click here)

---

A/N: As any other writer out there, I would appreciate reblogs and your comments on this story. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and most importantly, have fun!

---

The Five Stages of Grief

---

“Hey Channie!” You entered his studio with a smile plastered on your face, that soon enough turned into a frown when you noticed your boyfriend of almost 5 years hasn’t even acknowledged your presence.

He tended to do that a lot, especially when working on new comebacks. His whole focus was on that damn computer which you were sure by now was your life-sworn enemy. It’s hard having to compete with a screen to get your boyfriend’s attention, but such was life sometimes, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You knew the risks that came with dating an idol, you just didn’t know how much worse it could be if you were to date a workaholic, perfectionist idol.

This was Chan.

He spent hours and hours and hours cramped in his small studio, perfecting beats, arranging vocals, switching up different rhythms and trying to figure out what could work out and have the most success between his fans.

“Have you eaten?” You asked, kissing his cheek, and only then did he notice you’re there, and pulled out his headphones.

“Oh, hi. Didn’t see you come in.” Was all he said, his face scrunched in concentration. “Did you say something?”

“Just asked if you’ve had dinner yet.”

He must’ve, right? It was well past 11 pm, but one of his bad habits was working himself to death, and more often than not, he would skip meal times entirely simply because he wasn’t good at keeping track of time.

“I had a protein bar earlier.” He shrugged.

“Want me to order you something? Or even better, why don’t we both head home?” You asked with a smile, trying to be convincing enough for your boyfriend.

It usually worked.

He would normally laugh off your attempts to be nice and realise that you’re just trying to take care of him, and he would comply and go home with you for the night, then resume his work the next day.

Once you’d be home, he would crash immediately, proof of how tired he’d been and how much he’d ignored his body’s needs. His sheer determination was scary.

However, none of this happened tonight. He rolled his eyes and muttered a small “There she goes again.”

You played it off, though, realising he probably didn’t mean for you to hear that. Brave on his part, you thought, in such a small quiet studio.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked, your tone still friendly, as if you were joking with him.

What you didn’t expect was for him to turn his whole chair towards you, his expression angrier than you’ve ever seen him.

“You heard me. God, it’s so frustrating having you come here all the time bossing me around. Eat! Sleep! Stop working! Can’t you see I’m busy?!” He ranted, pointing towards his computer screen.

“Wow, sorry, Mr. Busy.” You chuckled, despite being slightly angry with his words.

He doesn’t mean them. You told yourself. This is another one of his bad habits: bursting out and speaking cruel words whenever he’s extremely stressed and has tight deadlines. It hadn’t happened often, only a handful of times in your years long relationship, but it hurt nonetheless whenever it did.

“And there you go mocking me.” He rolled his eyes at you. “It’s like you don’t even care about the work I’m doing.”

“It’s not that, Chan. You know how much I value your work, it’s just-”

“Yeah, bullshit.” He laughs. “If you would, you’d stop barging in here demanding things from me when you know I have stuff to do.”

“Hey, I know you had a tough couple of days with the comeback and all, but there’s no need for you to take it out on my like this.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest, this time feeling genuinely upset. It’s like he’s escalating it on purpose.

“No, it’s not just a tough couple of days. Don’t you get it? You do this shit all the time, and I’m frankly sick and tired of it. Can’t you just leave me be for once and stop being so controlling?”

“Controlling?” You asked, baffled. “How am I controlling, huh? By making sure you eat and sleep when you’re supposed to?”

“How do you even know what I’m supposed to do?! You always think you know best, but you never fucking consider any of my needs and wants.”

“Literally everything I do is fucking consider your needs, Chan.” You answered coldly.

“No. You’re just too deep in your head and can’t fucking figure out when to back down, so I’m telling you. Stop telling me what to do and leave me alone if I’m busy. God, I don’t need this shit.”

He mumbled the last sentence and put his headphones back in, turning his attention back to the screen.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done what you did next, but he hurt you, and you didn’t like the way your conversation apparently ended. You wanted to know what he meant, so you grabbed his headphones’ wire and pulled them out of his ears forcefully.

The way he turned to you and the look he threw you almost made your blood freeze, but you were far too upset to care about upsetting him anymore.

“What exactly don’t you need, huh? What is this shit, exactly?!” You gestured with your hands.

“You can’t fucking let it go, can you?” He laughed in a baffled way.

“No, unless you tell me what this shit is.”

“This. Us. Everything. I’m really fucking done with how overbearing you’re being. I was doing fine before I met you, and I sure as hell do just fine without you over my head every fucking minute of the day.”

“Oh, is that so?” You asked, expressionless.

He hurt you, but by his anger still present on his features, you realised it’s all pointless. You’re not going to see eye to eye tonight.

“Do you want to break up?” You let out, the words burning your tongue, and Chan’s eyes widen.

“What? No! Fuck, you twist my words.” He sighs, exasperated. “Just leave. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

When he doesn’t say anything else, you let out a shaky breath and watch him put his headphones back in.

“Oh, and this?” He starts, pointing to one end of the headphones. “Never do this shit again.”

You watch silently how he turns his chair to look back at the damn screen, without caring that you’re still there in the room.

The discussion is over.

“I see. Fine. I’ll go.” You let out, tears beginning to spill down your cheeks. He didn’t see them, and it felt like he didn’t even care that he’s made you cry.

You quietly made your way out of the room, your sight too blurry to see anything, and you headed home.

---

Denial

---

Chan’s eyes are beginning to sting painfully, and after rubbing them and checking the time, he figures out why.

It’s way over 5 AM when he decides to finally leave the studio, and although it’s still dark out, the streets are already starting to get filled with people hurrying to whatever painful morning shift they are scheduled for.

It takes him about 20 minutes to get back to your shared apartment, and when he does, nothing seems unusual at first.

The house is expectedly quiet, it being so early in the morning, and he already imagines how deep in sleep you must be by now.

He feels guilty for how he treated you, that he let the anger consume him once again, and he regrets it. He always regrets it when he lets stress get the better of him.

As he heads towards the bathroom to wash the harsh day off his skin, he starts thinking about how he could make it up to you. Should he buy you flowers and bring you breakfast in bed in 4 hours when you’ll most likely get up?

Although he hasn’t slept at all.

Should he take you out on a date after he’s well rested? There was this restaurant you mentioned a couple of times that you wanted to try, but he didn’t have enough time to take you there to eat yet, not with all the planned comebacks and the work that keeps piling up.

Maybe tomorrow is finally the day.

He finishes his shower and rubs his eyes again, and God, how tired he is, just as usual when he pulls out all-nighters. Everything seems ordinary, but as he opens the bedroom door, however, something is unusual.

You are not there.

Confused, he takes out his phone to check for any messages you might’ve sent him, but upon noticing there’s no new notifications, he throws the phone on the bed, screen down, defeated.

Did you really think he wants to break up? Did you finally have enough and left him?

He knows he treated you badly tonight, but he thought it’s just a small drop in an ocean of happiness. Arguments are unavoidable, unfortunately, and he can’t always be the perfectly composed man he’s striving to become.

Would you really leave after a couple of cruel words he didn’t even mean? He starts asking himself as he gets into bed. Surely you know how much he loves and needs you there for him. It was just a bad night, that’s all.

Maybe you just wanted some space, and decided to head to a friend, or to a hotel or something.

He thinks about calling you, but with how late it is – or rather, how early – he knows he’d just disturb you or any of your friends you would’ve gone to if he were to call.

He decides to go to sleep instead and figure it all out tomorrow morning, when his mind is clearer, and when you’ve both had enough time to cool down.

His head is pounding with pain as he opens his eyes and feels multiple pulsations against all sides of his skull.

This is the worst migraine he’s ever had, and he realises how right you were when trying to convince him to go to sleep early. He really needed more sleep.

He grabs his phone to check the time, and when he does, he sees it’s flooding with notifications. His manager called him about a dozen times, starting at 8 AM and continuing up until 15 minutes ago, and he has multiple missed calls and messages from all the members.

Ugh, it’s only 10.

Did I have a schedule I’ve forgotten about? He wonders, rubbing his eyes confused, but checking the date, he knows it’s his day off.

He decides to head to the bathroom and freshen up, while picking up his phone and dialling his manager’s number.

He reaches the bathroom and puts toothpaste on his brush, and by the time the phone rang two times, his manager picks up.

“Chan! Where are you?” He asks, his voice hurried. “Why haven’t you picked up?”

He begins lazily brushing his teeth and checks the date again, and sure enough, it’s his free day. There’s nothing in his schedule.

“Huh? What do you mean?” He asks, his voice still ridden with sleep, still tired from the lack of rest. “It’s my day off.”

“Are you at home?”

“Yes. Where else?”

“Good. That’s… okay. Have you talked to anyone yet?”

“No…? You’re acting weird. What’s going on?”

“Listen, Chan. Something… something bad happened. I need you to sit down for a moment, okay?”

“Okay...?” Chan nods absent-mindedly, continuing to brush his teeth, oblivious about what’s coming.

“Last night… God, I don’t even know how to break this to you, so I’ll just say it. Do note that the company will do its best to assist you and-”

“Cut to the chase. What’s wrong?” Chris asks, starting to get worried. He finishes brushing his teeth, and just as he prepares to put the toothbrush down, his manager’s next words make him drop it to the floor instead.

“Your girlfriend passed away last night. She was hit by a drunk driver on a crosswalk, and although an ambulance got there in less than 2 minutes, she was already… I’m sorry.”

The line falls silent as Chan tries to process what his manager just said. The only sound in the room is made by the toothbrush hitting the bathroom’s white floor tiles.

Chan heard wrong. There’s no other explanation.

“That can’t be.” He dismisses his manager completely. “She was just with me in the studio last night, and then she came-”

Home. But you weren’t home.

“She must’ve gone to a hotel or something.”

“Chan… I’m truly, truly sorry. As I said, we’re going to support you through this tough time with everything we’ve got.”

What tough time? Chan wants to ask but stays silent instead.

He picks the discarded toothbrush from the floor and throws it away. How careless he’s been, dropping it.

He wants to chuckle at his stupidity, and he can’t wait to tell you about it. You’re going to nag him again for being careless and dropping things. This is the 3rd toothbrush he’s changing this month.

“Oh, God! Again?” He can already picture you with an amused expression on your face, your arms crossed. “You’re always dropping stuff on the floor!”

The thought brings the ghost of a smile on his face, and he starts wondering again where you might be. Surely your manager is mistaken.

“Her parents tried getting in touch with you, but they said you didn’t pick up. You should give them a call.” His manager continues to say. “From what they’ve told us, the funeral will be held tomorrow morning. JYPE offered to pay for all expenses. Anyways, this must be too much information to swallow for now, so I’ll come pick you up in 20 minutes and we can go to the company together. The rest of the boys are already here.”

“Okay, see you in 20 minutes.” Chan replies, not really understanding what’s happening.

He ignores the countless missed calls and messages and opens his call history to dial your number instead.

It goes straight to voice mail.

“Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?”You chuckled, asking him with an unsure look on your face.

“Yes. The beep-”

“Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!” You cheerfully said, ending the recording with a small laugh.

“Are you going to keep it like that?” He asked amused.

“Why not? It’s straight to the point!”

“You left my voice in it, though.”

“Oh, does it bother you? I can record again if you want me to.”

“No, no need. I just – isn’t it a bit weird?” He chuckled. “You even forgot to say your name.”

“Whatever.” You waved a dismissive hand in the air. “If they called my number, they know who they’re calling.”

“Fair enough.” He laughed.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

He chuckles absent-mindedly at the memory of him teaching you how to record a message redirecting your callers to leave a voice mail. You’ve never been good at technology.

“Hi, babe. Can you please call me? I need to talk to you.” He says, deciding to leave a message, even though he isn’t convinced that you’ll get to hear it. You usually forget to check your voice mail.

He tries calling again, just for good measure.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?’

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for-‘

And again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly’?

Yes. The beep-‘

And again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?’

Yes.’

‘Hello! You’ve called…’

‘Hello!’

He throws his phone on the bed exasperated. Why aren’t you picking up?

You didn’t even come home last night, why is your phone turned off?

Do you want to somehow punish him for being cruel and make him worry?

He shakes his head confused and begins changing his clothes from the comfortable pyjamas to an appropriate enough outfit to go to the company.

It should be a crime to have to go so early in the morning anywhere on your day off.

When he’s done and he looks somewhat presentable, he picks his phone back up and dials your number again.

‘Hello! You’ve called-’

He cancels the call just when he hears a knock on his door, and opening it, his manager is looking at him sombrely.

“Hi.” Chris speaks first, but his manager doesn’t say anything. He just pulls him into a hug that lasts way too long, Chan thinks.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” He finally says after pulling away.

Chan doesn’t know what to reply, so he opts to just stay silent. His manager’s words don’t register in his head anyway; maybe he’s still tired.

He did go to sleep way too late.

They head to the car, and although the ride to the company only lasts 20 minutes or so, the 20 minutes feel like an eternity.

It’s just as his manager said, and everyone else is already at the company. When he sees the boys, they come rushing to him, their faces tear-stained and their clothes black.

“Oh, Chris…” Felix hugs him tightly and starts crying, and Chan starts comforting him by patting his back a few times.

A few tears escape past his eyes as well by seeing all the boys so gloomy, but he still doesn’t seem to be able to wrap his hand around it.

“Her parents said the wake is taking place at their house, so that’s where we’re headed now. I thought it’s better for you to not go alone.” His manager blurts out.

Chris looks dejected for a few seconds, before taking out his phone again and dialling the familiar number. This time, he types it himself. He knows it by heart.

With a shaky hand, he puts it against his ear and waits to connect.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

It makes no sense.

You couldn’t possibly… have died.

You are so young. You have so many plans and so many things you still want to do.

He is supposed to apologize to you and pamper you the whole day just to make up to you for being an asshole last night. He is supposed to take you to that restaurant you’ve been bugging him about for weeks.

You can’t possibly be gone, just like that.

Your parents embrace Chris as soon as he steps through the door. They’re sobbing loudly, and there are so many people present – some, he recognises: old friends from middle school you’ve shown him pictures of, some other colleagues from university, some coworkers he had the pleasure of meeting at the last Christmas party held by your company, a few family members…

There are also many people he doesn’t recognise; people your age, and Chan gets reminded once again of how young you are, with your whole life ahead.

He shakes his head once he notices a coffin on the large table in your parents’ living room; the same table you’ve both ate at just two weeks ago when you’ve last visited.

“My baby, Chris is here to see you.” Your mother cries, approaching the coffin and pulling his hand to guide him towards it as well.

It’s closed shut, and on top of it, your picture stares at him with a happy smile. You are so beautiful; he’s always loved this picture of yours. He’s the one who took it, just after you’ve graduated Uni and he handed you a big bouquet of your favourite flowers, rose peonies. You said your eyes wrinkled in a weird way, and never liked it, but he absolutely adored it. It’s been his wall screen ever since.

The coffin is made of dark polished mahogany, and its lid is adorned with golden handles.

You can’t possibly be in there.

Although beautiful, how could such a small coffin hold the large essence of your soul?

It makes no sense whatsoever.

Your parents’ cries seem real enough, though.

He touches the top of the coffin and wonders why it’s closed. Why would it be closed, when you are so gorgeous? People should see you, not a simple picture.

He decides it must be because you’re simply not in it. Or if you are hiding in there, maybe it’s all a joke and you’re going to open it from the inside and yell Surprise!, shocking everyone in the room and making your mother faint. It’s something you’d do.

So, he waits.

He waits, and waits, and waits, and his feet grow tired and his back starts aching after so many hours on his feet. People come and go, paying respects, patting his shoulders and trying to make some small talk, talking about you in past tense.

“She was such a wonderful person.”

“She was so full of life.”

“Her laugh was so intoxicating.”

“Her work ethic was admirable.”

“She was so smart.”

He listens and nods to each of their words. They are right. You are a smart, wonderful person, you are full of life, your laugh is the best thing he’s ever heard. He’s wished more often than not to record it and put it in one of his tracks, but every time he’d mentioned it, you called him silly.

By the time your father brings him a chair and places it next to the coffin so he can sit down instead of standing, it’s already night out.

“You should get some rest, Chris. I’ll stay with her.” He tells him, placing his strong hand on Chan’s shoulder as to attract his attention, but Chan just shakes his head.

How could he go sleep when you might decide any time to wake up?

Would you panic, with the lid closed and all? You’ve always been claustrophobic. Why is it closed, anyway?

It’s already morning when one of your relatives approaches Chris and urges him to get out of the living room to change his clothes.

They’ve brought him a white suit at the request of your father; wedding attire, since you didn’t get the chance to get married before you passed.

He is reluctant to put on the white pants and uncomfortable suit jacket, but he does it anyway. Your mother cries when she sees him, and your father pats his shoulder and thanks him for doing this.

The priest comes, and a lot of your friends visit your home again, to lead you on your last journey, apparently.

It takes the priest about half an hour to finish praying for your soul, and then your coffin is loaded in the back of a hearse. The car moves slow enough for everyone to be able to follow, and Chris is walking right behind it, next to your parents. Felix is behind him with Lee Know and Changbin, and the rest of the boys are somewhere far back. He sticks out like a sore thumb, dressed in all white while everyone else is wearing black.

Each time the car passes next to important places in your life, the hearse stops and people throw coins on the ground. They pass by your kindergarten and your old school, and with each step, your mother cries harder. Your father tries his best to stay composed, but even he bursts into tears when your mother starts talking about your life and what a happy kid you were.

Chris doesn’t shed a tear. He follows the hearse blindly, and when it reaches the cemetery, he watches as his members take out the coffin and place it on the ground next to a large, freshly dug hole.

The priest begins a final prayer, and soon enough, he watches how the coffin disappears inside the hole. People start throwing soil and flowers. He doesn’t know how a couple of roses get in his hands, but he begins throwing them one by one on top of the coffin that keeps getting lowered down.

You’ve never liked roses that much. You like peonies. Why did someone hand him roses?

There is also some music – hymns, or the sorts. Something you wouldn’t like. He doesn’t like it either.

A few moments later, some people begin covering the coffin in dirt, and he watches the scene expressionless. It gets covered fairly quickly. People start crying even harder, and his ears start ringing.

He feels sick to his stomach, so he decides to take a few steps back as soon as the whole gets filled to the brim with the freshly dug soil.

“I can’t believe she’s truly gone. She was so young!” He hears a woman say from somewhere behind him. He doesn’t bother turning his head to check if he knows her or not.

“Right? We were talking just yesterday morning at work about going shopping this weekend.” Another woman replies in a quiet tone.

“They didn’t even open the casket.”

“How could they? Didn’t you hear how she passed?”

“No! What even happened?”

“She was apparently crossing the road and a car came out of nowhere, hitting her with more than 200 km/h. It threw her like 30 metres in the air.”

“Oh my God! I heard it was a car accident, but this…”

“Yeah! It’s insane. There was barely anything left of her… only shattered bones and flesh, nothing resembling a human.”

“Shh, what if someone hears you say that?!” The other woman tried to silence the first one.

After hearing these details, Chris feels even sicker.

He wants to throw up.

“Son, we are going to the reception now. Do you want to come with us in our car?” Your father approaches him, and Chris simply nods.

He hugs him for a few seconds, and then they wait for your mother to come, and the ride to the restaurant is filled with her sobs while your father and Chan remain expressionless.

He sits at a table next to your parents. Felix is on his left, and the rest of the boys and other members of JYPE are sitting nearby.

There is an empty space to his right, and in front of it, the table is full of your favourite foods, snacks and drinks.

His eyes are stuck on that empty seat.

“Wow, they really brought me a lot.” You chuckle, looking at Chris with your head supported by your right hand, your elbow against the table. “How am I supposed to eat all of this?”

He watches the scene stunned.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why the long face?” You ask, the smile on your face wider, raising a hand to caress his cheek.

The next time Chris blinks, you’re gone.

The seat is empty.

The boys insist that Chan comes with them to the dorms, or that at least some of them come home with him.

“It’s not good to be alone.” Hyunjin says sympathetically, and Chris simply shakes his head.

What if you come back home tired and want to rest, but the boys are there visiting? He asks himself. It wouldn’t be fair to you.

So, he goes home alone, after much bargaining with them that he needs some time on his own.

The silence that greets him once he opens the door to your shared apartment is deafening.

He first goes to the bedroom to check if you’re back yet, but the sheets stay as empty as when he woke up two days ago, so he pulls out his phone to dial your number again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

The beep sound follows soon after, and he begins talking.

“Babe, I know you’re mad at me. I was wrong. I’m sorry. It’s time to come back home now. Please?”

A second beep follows, signalling that the time to record his message is over, so he ends the call. He ignores the countless notifications piling up on his screen, all the Condolences messages he’s been receiving, and he places the phone in his pocket and starts making the bed.

“Wow, well done, Channie! I’m impressed!” He can almost hear you chuckling, and turns his head towards the door, fully expecting you to be there laughing at him and praising him for doing the bare minimum, but there’s no one there.

Once the bed is made, he heads towards the living room. A half empty glass of water is on the table, its margins stained by your lipstick, next to a plate full of breadcrumbs.

Tsk, how messy. He rolls his eyes, knowing exactly why you haven’t cleaned up. You must’ve eaten in a rush again, this bad habit of yours.

You’re always complaining about stomach aches, but you keep eating on the go while getting ready for work in the morning, and never enjoy your meals.

He takes a picture of the crime scene and opens his phone again, shooting you a text.

“Forgot to clean up?” He asks, then attaches the picture of the plate and glass.

He knows you’ll probably laugh and start excusing yourself once you see it. If he were to check his gallery, half the pictures are surely of the dirty plates you simply forget about on the table.

Chris always washes them, but never fails to remind you of it.

This time, too, he takes the plate and glass to the sink and turns on the hot water. He rubs the plate with a dish sponge with way too much dish soap on it, and he hears your voice in the back of his head again:

“My, Channie! You’re so wasteful! You only need a drop. A single drop!!! What are you using so much dish soap for???”

He starts laughing as he grabs the glass and throws the half-drunk water out, but before washing it, he notices the lipstick stains again. He smiles to himself and sets the glass aside, wiping it off with a napkin, careful to not accidentally remove the stain.

Your lips left such a pretty mark, he doesn’t want to part with it yet, even if you are going to give him an earful later for not washing the glass properly.

When there is nothing else to do around the house, he opens his laptop and starts sorting out his emails. All of their schedules for the month have been cancelled, and their upcoming comeback postponed indefinitely.

He doesn’t think it’s necessary, but at the end of the day, the company’s rules must be followed. You’ve complained about him working too much anyway. Maybe this is the chance for you two to spend a bit more time together.

All he has to do now is wait for you to come back.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits…

Felix visits with Jisung and Seungmin the next day.

And then the next, Jeongin comes with Changbin and Hyunjin.

Minho drops by every morning with enough food to last Chris the whole day.

His manager comes once a week and makes sure to call him daily.

Whenever he’s on the phone, he paces around the empty apartment and looks around. He sees the jewellery you left on the coffee table; your sports shoes are still on the doormat in front of the door, your face creams and serums stay untouched in the bathroom, your hairbrush lays by the sink filled with loose hair, and there’s a half-ironed shirt on the ironing table in the dressing.

You don’t like other people touching your stuff, so he leaves everything just like that, waiting for you to come back and fix it all.

The glass with your lipstick stain on it is still there on the counter, next to the sink.

He’s texted you about a dozen of times since he first messaged you about it and the plate that’s long been washed, but you haven’t replied to a single text. Your phone still goes directly to voicemail, but worst of all… no matter how much he’s waiting…

… you don’t come home, and the apartment stays empty.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right!’

‘Hello!’

---

Anger

---

It’s been more than a month, but Chris still sets the table for you each time he eats what Lee Know brings him.

He wouldn’t bother eating much, if Minho wouldn’t have insisted to tag along to practically every meal after he noticed that he’s barely touching the food.

He always places one more plate on the table, right in front of him, at your usual spot.

“Just in case she comes back and gets hungry.” He explains to Minho, but he’s had enough of this.

“Hyung…” Lee Know hesitates. “She… she’s not coming back. You know that, right?”

His tone is quiet, and he tries to approach the subject as gently as possible. However, it’s time for him to do something. You’ve died more than five weeks ago, but Chris hasn’t moved any of your belongings, not even to store them.

There’s a box of tampons on the kitchen counter, but he won’t even move that, for fuck’s sake. He keeps waiting for you to come home, as if he doesn’t realise the fact that you’ve passed away.

“No, she will.” Chris says firmly, daring Minho to challenge him more.

“Hyung… She… she died. She’s not coming back.”

“You’re wrong!” Chris shouts all of a sudden, hitting the table with his fist strong enough to make the tableware bounce. He knows Minho is right. After waiting for you for weeks on end without you coming back, after dialling your number about a million times, after sending countless texts with no reply from you… he knows. But…

“Chris…” Lee Know stares empathetically.

“You’re all wrong! She… she’s coming back, goddamit!” He shouts again, this time grabbing the table’s edges and flipping it. The empty plates fall to the ground and shatter in the process, and Minho’s pot spills on the carpet, staining it.

Chris tries to cling to the last bit of hope he has regarding you, but he knows you’re dead. Everyone else was right, and he was wrong. You’re really gone.

“I’m sorry, Hyung. You… you need some help…” Lee Know continues with a shake of his head, bending down to grab the broken pieces of glass.

When he’s done cleaning up the carpet and the floor to the best of his abilities, he takes one more look at Chan. He looks like a ticking bomb, ready to explode again any second now.

Lee Know doesn’t know if it would be good to give Chan space, or if he should insist again that he comes with him to the dorms.

He decides to ask him anyway, and to his surprise, Chris nods and packs a small bag with clothes and hangs it on his shoulder.

They made their way out to Lee Know’s car, and once they’re at the dorms, they say goodbye as each goes to their respective apartments. Chris used to live with 3RACHA and Hyunjin, so that’s where he’s headed.

The dorms are as messy as he remembers, but they bring him comfort nontheless. His old room brings him solace as well.

There are a few pictures or you on the small desk in his room, and he looks at them fondly. You’re smiling beautifully in all of them. It’s the you he remembers. You, at your first date; you, the first time he took you to an amusement park; you, when all your fingers were coated in chocolate after you attempted to bake him a cake.

It’s you.

God, how he misses you.

How dare you leave him alone?

How dare you?

Why didn’t you fucking look to the left before crossing the road? Even if the traffic light was green, you should’ve fucking looked.

You’ve always been careful to look, so why…?!

Watching the pictures no longer makes him happy. It makes him angry, and out of anger, he punches the wall behind the desk with all his strength.

It makes no sense, really, but the pain in his fist takes away from the pain in his heart, so he punches the wall again.

He decides to try and calm down after hitting the wall two more times, and he hops into his old bed, shutting his eyes tight and thinking about the night you died.

‘I’m really fucking done with how overbearing you’re being. I was doing fine before I met you, and I sure as hell do just fine without you over my head every fucking minute of the day.’

Those were some of the last words he’s said to you.

Since you’ve died a few blocks away from the JYPE building, it happened right after you left.

You died thinking he doesn’t love you.

You died thinking he doesn’t need you.

He does.

He needs you.

If only he’d gone home with you that night, as you asked him, you would’ve never died.

It’s his fault.

It’s his fault you’ve died.

He killed you.

He lashed out on you and blamed all his stress on your attempts to take care of him, and he killed you.

Fuck, it’s all his fault.

For the first time since the funeral, he bursts out in tears, and he is unable to stop. It’s like all of his repressed feelings for the past month and a half come biting him right in the ass.

It’s so hard to breathe. He’s getting suffocated.

He can’t.

He can’t breathe anymore.

You’re on top of him, suffocating him.

“You killed me.” You say, blood running down your face.

He can almost feel the drops hitting him, with your face so close to him.

“It’s your fault. “You knew what you were saying. You killed me.” You say again cruelly, and Chris shuts his eyes even tighter.

His cries soon turn to wails, and he’s being loud enough for Changbin to hear him and get alerted. He opens the door without knocking, and upon seeing Chris, his heart breaks.

He just goes to the bed and throws himself on top of Chris, as if to shelter him somehow from the intense grief he’s feeling.

When his cries quiet down, Changbin takes a look at his friend and sees his injuries.

“Holy fuck, your hand is bleeding. Are you okay?” He asks in panic, standing up quickly to grab the first aid kit to bandage his fist.

“It’s all my fucking fault!” Chris screams at the top of his lungs, and his destructive mood comes back. He stands up, wanting to destroy it all. Every damn picture, every fucking thing in this room.

He wants to set it on fire and let it it all to pieces, letting himself burn as well. It’s what he deserves for killing you.

Sure, the drunk driver that hit you was directly responsible for taking your life, but the way he acted that night… nothing would’ve happened if it weren’t for him.

He killed you.

Changbin sees right through his erratic behaviour and anticipates his moves, throwing himself once more at Chris, holding him tight and not letting him move, no matter how much Chris lashes out. He doesn’t let go until his friend calms down again, and even after he does, he decides to camp in the room with him and keep him company.

---

Bargaining

---

It’s been three months, and Chris still has some difficulties accepting that you’re truly gone.

He probably shouldn't be here so soon, but it’s like he has to make sure again that you’re… that you’re dead.

Your parents did a great job with your grave; your gravestone made of marble stands tall , centred right in front of the ground you’re buried deep within, and the intricate designs of sculpted vines and flowers reminds him of you.

Oh, right. Flowers.

Chris remembers he brought a bouquet of pink peonies with him. He’s been holding onto it tightly ever since he bought it and stepped in a taxi to come here, but as soon as he got to your grave, time stopped, he couldn’t breathe anymore, and he forgot about the flowers in his hands.

It’s not like you need any more; there are so many fresh flowers all over and around your grave. Your parents also planted lots on top of the soil above your coffin, decorating your rest place beautifully.

You’ve always said you wanted a garden, and now, you have one: your little space in the uncomfortably large cemetery at the edge of the city.

“My favourite flowers. Aren’t they pretty?” He swears he can hear your voice, and turning to his left side, his breath hitches in his throat, choking him.

There you are, holding the bouquet of pink peonies he bought with a large smile on your face, but just like last time, he blinks, and the bouquet is in his hands, as it’s been the whole time, and you’re nowhere in sight.

A tear rolls down Chan’s cheek. He wishes he would’ve bought you that house and garden you’ve been dreaming of, instead of the convenient apartment in the city centre.

He wishes he would’ve proposed, and that you’d build a little family together. After all, you were his solace in the midst of all the chaos of his life. The sole person bringing him purpose and comfort.

But now you’re gone.

He wishes he wouldn’t have always put his job first. Especially now, as his schedules stay empty due to the company fearing for his well-being, he realises how much free time he could’ve had if only – if only he’d listened to you.

He regrets all those late nights in the studio when he could’ve been home sleeping next to you.

He regrets every breakfast, lunch and dinner he’s missed because he was too busy with making a new song, learning a new dance, or preparing for a new comeback. Now, none of it matters. You’re gone.

He could’ve postponed all of them. He could’ve done so much differently, and he regrets it all.

You’re gone.

He places the peonies in a little vase near your gravestone, next to some daffodils someone must’ve brought you a few days ago.

Then, he raises his gaze and reads the inscription in the headstone’s marble. It’s your favourite poem by Clare Harner.

Good choice, he thinks, as he goes through the lines of Immortality and traces each engraved letter with his fingers.

‘Do not stand by my grave and weep

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints in snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning's hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand by my grave, and cry--

I am not there, I did not die.’

You stopped reciting the poem and took a deep breath, looking expectantly at Chan.

“Isn’t this poem beautiful?” You asked him, your eyes sparkling.

“A bit morbid, but yes.” Chris chuckled as he placed the freshly made pasta dish in a large plate and served you dinner.

“Aww, thank you. Smells so good!” You grinned in delight, your eyes closing into crescents, as they always did whenever you smiled brightly.

He couldn’t help but press a quick chaste kiss against your lips before he sat down as well.

“So, pasta master, show me how it’s done.” You encouraged him, nudging his elbow and handing him your fork and spoon.

“Tsk, you’re so spoiled.” Chris tutted jokingly, but complied nonetheless and started twirling the pasta with the fork. Once it became an appropriate bite-sized portion, he raised the fork and supported it with the spoon as he brought the food to your mouth.

“Mmmm, so good!” You exclaimed with a few quick, excited small claps, as soon as you started feeling the flavours.

“Of course, what were you expecting?” Chris chuckled.

“Only the best from you.” She praised, petting his head fondly. “So, about the poem. Do you think it’s good enough for my presentation?”

“For Uni? Yeah, of course. Anything you’d pick is good enough, babe. You have your way with words, and you recited it very beautifully.”

“You think?” You beamed at his words, and he nodded. “Thank you, Channie. I really really like it, but I was afraid it wasn’t appropriate.”

“No, it is. You can use it.”

“If the lyrical genius says so, it must be true.” You stood up briefly and kissed his cheek, before returning to your seat and starting eating the pasta.

God, how many years ago was that?

Chris bursts out crying for the millionth time this month, and grabs the headstone with both his hands, feeling his knees grow weak.

On the brink of collapse, he uses your gravestone for support as he weeps louder.

“Can’t you come back?” He asks, his voice shaking. “Please. Please come back. Please. I… I promise I’ll do better, hm? I promise I’ll no longer stay as late in the studio, so please… please…”

The headstone can’t support him enough when his hands go weak as well, and he falls to his knees right in front of the poem.

“If only – If only I’d left with you that night. If only we hadn’t fought. God… please, please come back. We still have to make up.”

He cries for what feels like hours, and his body grows cold.

“Please… please…” He forces out again. “Come back… come back… we have so much we want to do… come back… I need… I need more time with you, please. Please.”

And he cries again.

And again.

And again, until he feels a hand on his shoulder a while later, and he turns his head around hopeful, thinking you might’ve somehow heard his pleas and returned to him.

His expression falls as he sees Seungmin looking concerned at him, and then he frowns even more noticing the pathetic way he looks in his eyes’ reflection.

Seungmin falls to the ground next to Chan, hugging his side tightly. Then, he helps him stand up and balance on his feet.

Chris is grateful for Stray Kids being there for him, but he just wishes… it would’ve been you standing next to him instead of Seungmin.

---

Depression

---

Chris has never experienced such an intense fatigue before. Every part of his body hurts, and it’s like his muscles are screaming at him each time he stands up. He is lethargic and looks haggard and in desperate need of rest, but rest doesn’t come by too easily as of late.

It’s 5AM and he’s in the studio again, but instead of doing anything productive, like finishing up that song he’s started working on two months ago that he keeps beating himself up for, he watches how beautiful you looked in the picture on his desk.

You used to be so full of life and so gorgeous. Your smile could make anyone happy, and your laugh – God, how much he misses your laugh.

He misses your voice.

Sometimes, he can’t even remember what it sounds like, and he thinks it’s absurd; it hasn’t been that long since you passed. Only about a year. He shouldn’t forget it so soon.

He grabs his phone and manually types the digits to your number. He still hasn’t forgotten it, and with how deep it’s been ingrained in his memory, he doesn’t think he ever will.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

He hasn’t cried in some time while thinking of you, but now, he’s on the verge of tears again. You used to sound so carefree.

You used to be so happy.

He doesn’t know when he started referring to you in past tense, but as soon as the realisation hits him, he lets a couple of tears stain his cheeks.

Chris is tired. He hasn’t slept in… God knows how many days. He’s always had trouble sleeping, but nowadays, his insomnia has been getting worse and worse. His doctor prescribed him some pills that are supposed to help, but he can’t even be bothered to take them anymore. They don’t help him rest anyway. If he takes them, he wakes up confused, disoriented, and with an even worse headache.

His phone is still in his hand and his finger brushes over his screen. He didn’t have the heart to change his lockscreen picture. It’s still you.

He hasn’t seen you in what feels like years. The first few months when he’d been haunted by your ghost were tough, but now that he hasn’t seen any glimpse of you in months, day to day life is getting harder and harder to navigate.

You don’t even visit him in his dreams anymore, on the seldom nights he sleeps. If he takes the small white pills, he doesn’t dream of anything, and he so desperately wants to see you again, to touch you, that he refuses to take them. That’s the other reason he doesn’t.

Fuck, this is hard.

Are you supposed to feel so devastated after a whole year?

Back then, years passed by so quickly – it meant comeback after comeback, work, work and more work, and time with you was scarce but very appreciated. Time used to fly, and without him knowing how much time passed, you’ve celebrated your 5th anniversary. He was planning to propose to you soon. He was looking at rings, but then you…

Time doesn’t pass by as quickly anymore. This year stretched for so long, it felt like a decade instead of barely 12 months. With each passing month, it was like nothing was changing at all for Chris, but now, looking back, everything feels different.

He’s a completely different person than the one that was staying in the studio up until 5 AM last year, and he blames himself so, so much for his unchanging bad habits.

He blames himself for your death still. It’s his fault, and this thought only makes him more hopeless and more depressed.

He’s lost weight. A lot of it, to the point where the company had to have an ‘intervention’. Whereas last year his body was toned, his abs perfectly sculpted and his form admirable, he now looks like a ghost of himself.

If he eats, his stomach immediately starts hurting. He threw up 3 times this week alone.

Your death still has such a big emotional toll on him, and he’s tried it all. He went to therapy. He still goes four times a week at his company’s requests. He’s on medication that makes him groggy and unable to think, medication that shut down all his feelings – not just the negative ones. He is numb, and when he isn’t, he feels utterly devastated and lost.

What is he supposed to do now, without you?

How come a year has already passed without you by his side? He’s even contradicting himself. Sometimes he feels that the year passed by slowly, and sometimes he looks back and doesn’t understand how he was able to live a whole year without you.

He needs you.

Fuck, he needs you so much, he still can’t believe he even insinuated that horrible night that he didn’t.

Life no longer has any purpose, and everyone around him is growing more concerned by the day, as this once optimistic man has left together with you, leaving in his place only a pessimistic, desperate person.

He realised how badly he wants to die exactly 6 months ago, when your sudden disappearance finally started sinking in for real. When he stopped bargaining with God or with whatever cruel higher power there might be in the sky to let you come back, even if just for 10 minutes, for enough time for him to kiss and hug you and tell you how much he’s missing you.

6 months ago, he started decorating his thighs with unsightly marks, some of them faded, other fresh. He can’t do it anywhere else, no matter how much he’d wished to cut his wrists open, for fear of anyone else noticing.

So, he takes his despair out on his poor thighs, pressing the small blade against his skin until he feels something, anything. Until blood starts pouring down and the shower’s water pools down at his feet completely red.

He winces in pain every time he does it, but at least he feels something different than the numbness that grows bigger and bigger in his heart, consuming everything in its way. His whole soul feels absorbed by it, crushed under the pressure.

On the rare occasions he’s not numb, he feels the immense grief your absence left. He now knows that you’ve not only taught him how to love, but also how it is to lose what you love, and it hurts. It’s excruciating, and his heart is being ripped apart still, each and every time he thinks of you, and your absence is tearing him apart from the inside out.

He is physically sick. His headaches are worse than ever. He can’t sleep. He can’t eat. He can’t do anything anymore. He doesn’t want to, either.

The only thing he wants is to die, but even this wish feels selfish. He sees the way his friends look at him, how they’re walking on eggshells around him, to not somehow mention anything that could trigger a bigger depressive episode than what he’s already going through. He only pushes through it because of them, because he knows how it feels to lose someone you truly love, and he doesn’t want them to have to live with this black hole in their chests.

But… the loneliness he feels is simply merciless. It’s pouring down on him like unyielding unforgiving rain, not showing him any pity, and so he tries to fills his days with something that would make him forget about the gap in his soul.

The company let him come back to work a while ago, but they didn’t plan any comeback for Stray Kids for the time being, nor are they planning any for the near future. He’s grateful they’re giving him time, because he’s in no shape or form ready to do anything, not when he’s withdrawn himself so much from everything he used to love.

It’s difficult to compose any up-beat songs, or any song, for that matter. It used to come naturally for him, but not anymore. Changbin and Jisung are doing their best to support him and make up for his lack of concentration, but it feels like he’s not bringing anything to the table anymore.

He’s missed practice over and over again. The Kids meet up every two days to dance to their older songs, and as they don’t have anything new to work with, they even started learning the dances of other popular songs, or creating choreographies that would fit western music. Chan never went. He stopped dancing 12 months ago, and he hasn’t even stepped in the practice room since you died, not even once.

He hasn’t sung since you died either, and no one said anything about it. No one blamed him at all. Not even his company, who he was sure was going to fire him in the first 6 months after your death.

They said they trust him, and that they’re going to give him as much time as he needs to recover. They talk about him like he’s sick, but he’s not sick. They don’t seem to understand that.

He’s not sick, he’s just devastated, and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to be able to live again, to sing and dance on stage and to work hard, because this is no longer his dream.

He only dreams of death, and the thoughts of it are the only ones bringing him any solace. His therapist said he needs more time, and he quoted Lois Tonkin more times than he can count. He said that life will soon begin to grow bigger around grief, and that the intense sadness he’s feeling is just another expression of love for you. One that is permanent, but that will diminish as time passes and as he starts enjoying life again.

He doesn’t believe any of it, though.

How could he begin to enjoy life again, with you not there by his side?

---

Acceptance

---

He met someone.

For the first time in years, he felt genuine happiness again.

It took him one more year to start reengaging in some of his older hobbies and in his work. He started gradually going to the gym with Changbin and Lee Know, and eventually felt ready to start dancing and singing again. Another year later, he was ready to get back on stage and face all his fans, who’ve thankfully shown an unwavering support of his journey with grief.

He started feeling a bit better, and even though you were on his mind all the time, he was no longer dwelling on the pain of the loss of you. Your memory started bringing him more happiness, and he started looking fondly at all the sweet moments you’ve both shared together.

He started appreciating being able to have met you, to have lived 5 beautiful years next to you, and even though he still feels it is unfair that you’ve been taken away from him so cruelly and way too early, he no longer blames himself.

He still regrets the argument you had on the night you passed away, but he started slowly coming to terms with the fact that there was nothing he could do about it anymore, no way to take his words back. He started accepting that this is the one regret he’s going to have to take to his grave with him.

It took him one more year to start embracing life again, to start looking forward to his future with Stray Kids and to start actively making plans. He realised there was so much more he wanted to accomplish, and his dreams started coming back to him little by little, with the support of his friends and family.

He’s met her two years later.

When it happened, he was still not ready to give love a second chance. He thought it was way too soon, that he was disrespecting you by catching feelings for someone else. He felt like he was emotionally cheating on you.

He decided it’s time to join a support group at the recommendation of his friend, and he’s met a lot of people of all ages: some younger than him, some way older. The way they spoke about their former partners warmed up his heart, and they made him realise that loving again is not an affront to your memory. He can still keep loving you while loving someone else as well. He can still honour your memory.

He opened up to her, and he’s told her all about you. She wanted to know who you were, and she even visited your grave with him, holding his hand and talking to you at your gravestone. She told you she loves him and thanked you for being there for him while you were still alive, for giving him precious memories to hold onto.

She apologized for life being so unfair and taking you away from Chris so abruptly, and she assured you she’s going to take care of him to the best of her abilities.

She was really patient with him. She gave him as much time as he needed to come to terms with his feelings. He let him set the pace on what he was comfortable with doing. The first time they slept together was after more than one year of dating, but she didn’t mind waiting for as long as he felt necessary.

She loved him, and he loved her.

He proposed to her almost two years later, and they welcomed a child one year after their wedding.

He visited your grave on your 10th death anniversary with his son in his stroller, a baby boy he’s given your favourite name. You were still present in his thoughts, and his love for you never subsided.

He now simply has additional people to love and to grow old with, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss you still.

He decided to visit your grave again, even if walking has become a bit too difficult. Still, he manages the way from the car until your grave just fine, even if he has to support himself with a crane.

He is now old enough to be called ‘grandpa’, and not just as a joke between him and his friends. His hands are shaking, and his legs are a bit wobbly; his face is adorned with deep lines and creases, his forehead is wrinkly, and each fine line contributes to his now years-long life and experiences. The skin dropped around his cheeks, but every lady in the nursing home assures him he’s still a handsome man.

Your grave is no longer as tidy and beautifully adorned with fresh flowers. The soil has been overtaken by weeds and is in dear need of cleansing. He hasn’t visited in a while, unfortunately, his health issues making it a tad too hard, and with your parents long gone, there is no one else to take care of your resting place.

He makes a mental note to hire someone to clean it up and plant some flowers, but for the time being, he simply sets the bouquet of rose peonies in the small, chipped vase next to your headstone.

The inscription in the once immaculate marble is no longer as visible, but he doesn’t need to read it in order to recognise Immortality by Clare Harner. He still remembers the poem by heart, and also all sorts of other small, insignificant things, like your old phone number that’s been disconnected decades ago.

He looks at your smiling picture, the one he took when you’ve just graduated from university, and he realises as if for the first time how young you were.

He’s grown old; he has multiple wrinkles, his skin sagged everywhere, and his body went through each transformation it was supposed to when advancing in years.

But you?

You’ve stayed young. You’ve stayed beautiful, cheerful, smiling. Your face stayed clear of any creases.

You’ve remained just as he remembers you.

You are immortal.

“I’m sorry for not coming in a while.” He speaks with a soft smile on his face.

“That’s fine. You are probably very tired.”

He swears he could hear your voice. Maybe the poem is right, and the whispers of the wind transform in your saccharine voice he’s so dearly missed.

“I’m truly sorry for what I’ve said.” He continues, feeling the need to apologize again for his harsh words that night. No matter how many years have passed and how many time he’s already apologised, he’s never forgiven himself.

“But I’ve forgiven you long ago.” The wind whispers, and he closes his eyes and nods his head.

“I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. I hope you know that.”

“I know.” The sunlight caresses his back, warming him up as the wind strengthens. “And I’m waiting for you, whenever you’re ready to meet me, my love.”

~The End~

---

(A/N) Obligatory song: 11 minutes by Halsey and YUNGBLUD.

youtube

When my best friend showed me this song, I immediately fell in love with the concept of the music video, that’s based on the five stages of grief. I thought to myself that I simply must write a story like this, but of course, that was months ago and I’ve completely forgotten about it, as I usually do with most random ideas that come to mind that I don’t write down lol.

I couldn’t really sleep for the past few nights, so my mind kept brewing ideas and scenarios to keep me busy and hopefully lull me to sleep.

It didn’t work, because the five stages of grief came to mind and I knew I had to immediately write a story about it and not let the idea go this time, so I got out of bed at like 6:30 am and wrote and wrote on and off for a total of 13 hours, until this 10k words of pure despair have been created.

I hope you enjoyed it even though it probably sent you spiralling into depression. Thank you for reading nonetheless!

Love,

Storm

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