#none of these things are really what I know the most about

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 10 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: A fight turns into something beautiful. Turns into what could be your last day on earth.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/rape/death, hinting at suicidal thoughts (only briefly and not really serious, but I'll put it here nonetheless), body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities and desires, smut, (rough) sex, oral sex, switch, degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics, daddy, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

The tight smile.

It was all you needed to see to know you were in great, big trouble. It was really disappointing though, considering how good the day had started.

When you woke up, right after having a short, restless sleep, you saw him lying beside you. And for once, ever since you had gotten here, he wasn’t awake. No, he was deep asleep. His beautiful  eyes shut tightly and his expression one of peaceful relaxation. You hadn’t ever seen him this perfect before.

It was nearly ridiculous. Just a few hours earlier, he had ravaged you in a way that left you feeling sore and used, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but somehow you had a feeling last night was different. It wasn’t the sex per say. It was the way he got angry and you felt you couldn’t get through to him, even if you truly wanted to. And what was far worse than all of it, was the threat.

The threat.

What did it even mean?

I would never kill you. At least not unless you gave me a reason to.

It wasn’t even a subtle threat. He didn’t try to hide that he was twisted and dangerous. Dangerous for you, if you pushed the right buttons. You had done so quite some times by now, but luckily you were still around. But how much was too much?

What would make his mind go blank and cause him to swing an axe at you?

Shoot you right in the face?

Gut you in the middle of the-

You shuddered and took a long, deep breath to calm yourself. This wasn’t going to happen. You wouldn’t anger him to that degree. And yet, you couldn’t keep yourself from thinking about it.

What could possibly piss him off enough, to trigger such an extreme reaction?

If you went out and fucked someone else?

Or if you spilled milk on the coffee table?

You took another slow breath and looked back at his peaceful, sleeping form. It was hard not to love him, when he was like this. Sweet. Peaceful.

Vulnerable.

You hadn’t even seen vulnerable, regarding him. Not really. You didn’t know his name, his family, his backstory or anything else that truly mattered. All you knew was which buttons to push and it would make him slap you. You had his age. And his sexual preferences. You knew he had some kind of dangerous job, but you had no idea what it was about. And you knew he was twisted.

Utterly and entirely twisted.

But you saw none of that as you watched him sleep. All you saw was a handsome man, the most handsome man you had ever seen, even with the faint trace of a scar on his cheek. You still hated the sight of it. Not because it would have done anything to his attractiveness. No, he was very obviously still perfect. It was the fact that he got hurt.

Someone hurt him.

You were surprised just by how angry the thought made you. He was always so confident. It was his choice to either be angry and take it out on you or to be gentle and spoil you with affection and gifts. But it was his choice. He was the man. He was in charge. He was the epitome of strength.

And someone hurt him.

Him.

A part of you was almost tempted to think yours.

Someone hurt your man.

But you pushed the thought away just as quick as it came. He was hardly your man.

Your bane, your curse, your horror. Yes.

But not your man.

When he stirred slightly, you were pulled out of your thoughts. It didn’t take longer than a few seconds for him to blink his eyes open. When he finally looked up at you and met your gaze, a hint of surprise flashed over his features. But he schooled his expression into a soft smile effortlessly.

“Good morning, my little owl.” He purred. “You’re up early.” He raised a brow and smirked slowly. “Were you watching me sleep?”

Your face flushed, but you didn’t feel the need to deny it. It was pretty obvious anyway.

“I did.” You said quietly. “I couldn’t help it. You looked so…peaceful.”

He hummed softly and propped himself up on his elbows, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear with two fingers. “Peaceful? Doesn’t sound like me at all.”

He didn’t seem angry or even irritated that you watched him. If anything, he seemed amused or maybe even strangely flattered.

You shrugged.

“Have you been up for long?”

You shook your head.

He frowned slightly and held your chin in his hand, brushing his thumb over your skin in a gentle way. “You didn’t sleep well. You look like you didn’t sleep at all.”

You averted your gaze. What could you possibly tell him? That you spent all night, asking yourself not if, but when he would finally snap and snap your neck the same?

“Look at me.”

You hesitated, but eventually you met his gaze again. His expression was one of thoughtfulness and curiosity and you knew you had to give him something. He wouldn’t stop pestering you otherwise. You thought for a moment, before you finally gave up. You didn’t trust your ability to lie to him. He would see right through it and punish you for trying to deceive him.

“It’s about last night.” You murmured quietly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but eventually he relaxed his expression and let go of your chin. With a soft sigh, he murmured back: “Was it too much for you? Too rough?”

You thought about the best possible way to answer this. Eventually you came up with something you would have hoped would be the perfect solution. “I’m still ashamed.”

“Ashamed?” He frowned.

“Because a part of me enjoys it.”

He hummed softly. “We talked about this, sweet girl, but I’ll say it again and again. You have nothing to be ashamed about. First of all, it’s not your fault you turned out like this.”

“That’s kind of the problem.” It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely. It did bother you. Just that the life threatening thing was worse. “I feel like you enjoy what we do, because you simply enjoy it. And I think I enjoy it, because I feel the constant need to get hurt and degraded, because of…because of what happened to me.”

He regarded you with a long, thoughtful look. His eyes softened somewhat and he was back. The man who supposedly cared about you came back, after a long, rough night. He sighed and rolled over so that he was on his back and staring at the ceiling. All the while he stretched out his arm and pulled you along, curling you into his side. He didn’t look at you as he spoke and his tone of voice was almost emotionless.

You couldn’t tell if you preferred this over the anger. Probably not.

“Did I ever tell you about my father?”

You froze. What? No. He hadn’t ever told you anything about himself that mattered. Let alone his family. As far as you were concerned, he didn’t even have a father.

But all you managed was a small, breathless shake of your head.

He hummed softly and played with your hair as he spoke, still keeping his voice cool and measured. He never met your gaze. Almost like he couldn’t. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to appear nonchalant or if he truly didn’t care. You hoped for the first one.

“My father had some creative ways of punishment.” He hummed. Oh, God. “Similar to your mother, I might think. Just more blood. And a few…other things.”

You held your breath as he spoke, feeling utterly sick. The fact that he had so subtly and smoothly threatened your life last night was suddenly the last thing on your mind.

“Don’t get me wrong, sweetness. I was always a little different from other boys my age. I wasn’t interested in the things the others were. I liked different things. Darker things. But I’m pretty sure, had it not been for my father…” He hummed. “He did some nasty things. Really nasty. And not only to me. To my mother as well.” He turned to face you fully, while you still lay frozen and staring at him with bated breath. All the while he caressed your face and spoke in this soft voice, like he was reading from a children’s book. It was eerie. “That might be one of the reasons why I am always in control.” He smiled briefly. “Especially sexually.”

You just kept staring at him. He hadn’t said it outright and he probably never would, but you could tell there was something. Something dark and terrible, something that still haunted him, even after all these years. And it made you sick to the core. The fact that his father, his own father, had hurt him, it made you feel nauseous. And especially, angry.

“So, I should probably be grateful to him, don’t you think?”

You knew you weren’t supposed to say anything to that, anything about that at all. No matter how terrible you felt, no matter how badly you wished to comfort him. He would get angry, because he would think of it as pity. You were sure. But you still had to say it.

“Your father is a sick man.” You said quietly. “And you didn’t deserve whatever he did to you.”

“Oh, I’m aware, my sweet, darling girl.” His face lit up in a soft smile. “I was just a boy. A twisted one, maybe. But still a boy.”

It made you feel as uneasy, as you felt relieved about it. At least he acknowledged it. He had no fault in his father’s cruelty. At least not back then.

And at least there was something. A tiny reminder that he was human, that he was real, that there was something akin to flesh and blood that made him similar to you. Not the fact that it had happened. Oh no, you would have changed it, were you in the power to. You would have bled and suffered, if only it meant to free him from the burden of his past.

No, but the thought that he told you about it. He had a father. A mother. A family. He had a childhood. A life. He was real.

You lay in silence for a long while. Of course you wanted to say more, to comfort him and hug him. To kiss away the fear he had probably felt as a little boy. You wanted to take him in your arms and make him whole again, puzzle him together until he got reunited with the love he was so desperately missing all his life. What about his mother? You asked yourself. But you thought now wasn’t the best time to ask. You didn’t want to risk making him angry, when he wasn’t so far. He hadn’t ever shared as much of himself. You didn’t want to say anything. And, you suddenly realized, you were afraid to pressure him.

So you said the next best thing. In the silent hope, that one day he’d trust you enough to let you in.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” You said very softly. His head perked up and his expression softened. No anger in sight.

“My sweet, caring girl. The ghosts of my past are no more than that. And don’t you worry. I got my revenge.”

You bit your lip and rolled onto your side, facing him properly. The thoughtfulness in your eyes turned into something else the longer you looked at him, a mixture of concern and gentleness. He didn’t seem to mind. He let you stare without interrupting your thoughts. It was a peaceful, comfortable silence.

“How did you get your revenge?” You asked quietly, before you could stop yourself.

He smirked and stretched out his arms behind his head.

“I killed him.”

A part of you had suspected as much. But another part of you, the naïve little girl that you somehow still were, felt horrified. He killed his own father. And yet, that other part of you whispered softly in the back of your mind.

Did you expect anything else?

You thought back to your mother. Had you ever had a gun in the wrong moment-

No. Never. You couldn’t kill anyone. Not even a fucking fly. You were the type of person to chase them out of the window, instead of crushing them.

It wasn’t enough to calm you down and he seemed to notice.

“Are you alright, sweet girl?”

You were going to die anyway. Why not speak freely at least?

Forget his father. He’s dead. But you’re not. Not yet at least.

“You scared me last night.”

His brows furrowed. “When we-“

“No.” You said in a soft tone and slowly sat up, wrapping the sheets around your body. “I mean, yes. Kind of. But that’s not the problem. You scared me when you said…when you said you would kill me if I gave you a reason to.” Your expression and your tone of voice were almost child-like. Innocent and curious, not at all trying to guilt-trip him. Just a girl, scared for her life. Her sanity.

Herself.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He said softly as he sat up as well. He reached out to pull you on his lap, but you pulled back. He frowned, but he didn’t protest.

“I was simply-“

“What could get me killed?”

It was so sharp, so matter-of-fact, that it made him pause for a moment. He looked genuinely caught off-guard, like he never expected him to ask him such a question. And like he wasn’t sure how to answer it.

“What?”

“What could I say or do that would make you kill me?” You asked in a soft voice. Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest, but you tried to stay strong. You needed to get a point across. You needed to know.

He thought for a moment, before he leaned back and narrowed his eyes in a thoughtful frown.

“Another man.”

Cheating. As if you really were anything to each other, right?

Such a normal thing. People got killed over cheating all the time, didn’t they?

Or did they really?

“Another man.” You whispered. “Okay. What else?”

He hummed softly. “If you left me.”

“If I left you?” You meant it in a way as if saying; how would I be supposed to leave you? There aren’t even fucking windows here.

He nodded. “When you leave me, you’re no longer my girl. And I don’t have a reason to keep you alive, if you’re not.”

You swallowed thickly. How very refreshing. He was being honest at least. Wasn’t that what you wanted? And you didn’t know if this was better or worse. You had expected as much.

“Anything else?” You whispered hoarsely.

“No.”

Your brows shot up in surprise. “No? If I don’t cheat on you or leave you, you won’t-“

“No.” He said again, in that infuriating, calm tone.

“And if I insulted you?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “If I hurt you? If I-“

“Don’t get me wrong.” The menacing bastard was back. “You don’t get to trample on me, sweet girl. In fact, you know what happens, if you do all that. You’ll get punished. And that didn’t change.” He narrowed his eyes further.

He took a long breath to calm himself and finally said: “I just didn’t want you to be terrified for no reason. I’m sure there are a few more things you can do that will definitely get you killed. So, try not to push my buttons too much. Don’t experiment. Don’t think you get any kind of power. All you are is my girl. Mine. Mine to use. Mine to torment as I please. You’re my plaything. My toy.” He got angrier with every word and you were sure, more than sure, you had done something terribly wrong.

“Mine to use however I see fit.” He gritted out. “Because that’s all you are to me.”

Every word stabbed a wound deeper and deeper into your soul. He didn’t love you. You weren’t an idiot. But a part of you had hoped, hoped so desperately, that you were anything more to him. Anything of meaning. Anything he cared about. Anything he thought about and smiled, when he went off to his mysterious workplace. Anything at all.

But you weren’t. You were his plaything. His fucktoy. His doll.

His girl.

Your face burned in shame and your guts churned painfully. You slowly looked down at your hands and folded them in your lap, while you kept the blanket pulled up to your chin.

“I wasn’t-“

“Yes, you were.” He hissed and roughly pulled your chin up, to make you look at him. “Did you hear me? You’re nothing more than a thing for me to use, a doll, something to dress up in a pretty dress and take my anger out on. Did you get that through your goddamn, thick skull? You’re nothing. Nothing at all.” He spat out.

At this point, you felt indeed like he had stabbed you. The knife was still there on the carpet by the bed. How very reckless. You could have stabbed him last night, didn’t he think about that? No, he was tired or maybe he just trusted himself to have broken you enough not to ever hurt him.

It was true. You wouldn’t ever hurt him. Not like that. That one punch was as far as it could go.

And now, as you sat there and listened to his cruel words, a small part of you suddenly wished he hadn’t bluffed, hadn’t used the knife as a way to find relief in his twisted mind. A part of you wished you weren’t there, to listen to his cruel reminders. The reminder that you were nothing.

Nothing at all.

You felt your hands shake, just the same second your lip quivered.

He was so angry, so furious, he hardly even recognized your presence. He wanted to make some point known.

You understood it now.

He would never love you.

But you? It was too late for you. You already loved him. And he was breaking your heart.

All your life you thought that couldn’t happen to you. You always assumed you were far too numb for these things.

A tear rolled down your cheek and you stared firmly down at your lap. Your hands were shaking furiously and your body shook with the sobs you choked back.

By the time he looked up again and saw the state you were in, his anger immediately disappeared. Something akin to horror took its place instead. He rushed forward without even thinking about it and held your arms tightly, tilting his head down below and staring up at you, to make you look at him.

“Wait.” He said quickly. “Wait. I didn’t mean it.”

You were stuck between pushing him away and letting him console you. But you knew there was probably nothing that could ever bring you back. Your heart, already broken and bruised, had just somehow been pieced back together by him, only for him to crush it again under the palm of his hand, under the cruelty of his words, under the weight of his actions.

You decided to push him back instead. At least for once, you tried to keep a semblance of dignity. It was a lost cause, but it meant something to you.

He let out a surprised exhale, but quickly rushed forward again, trying to get ahold of you, but this time, you struggled.

“Get off of me!”

“No, you need to listen to me!”

“No! No, get the hell off!”

“You need to listen!”

You struggled even harder and pushed him back, clawed at his skin and within seconds you found yourself in the middle of a physical fight. So far, he hadn’t tried to slap you or bring you to your senses anyhow, he just tried to make you focus. And when you hit against his chest or pushed him back by his shoulders, when you scratched his arms and pulled on his hair, he let you. Without retaliating. He let you.

You were just waiting for him to snap. A part of you might even have been hoping to get some kind of reaction out of him, because he had just hurt you so terribly. But he didn’t.

And when you pushed him back against the mattress, he let you.

And when you straddled his lap, he let you.

He even let you intertwine your fingers and press his hands against the bed.

He just let you.

You stopped struggling. Stopped fighting him and stopped trying to provoke anything.

You were on top him, your hair falling over your shoulders and framing your face like a waterfall. Everything else was suddenly gone. All that there was left were him and you. He stared up at you, his eyes wide and his expression one of quiet fascination. Of course he allowed you to take control. After all, all it needed was a tiny bit of strength from him and he’d have you pinned to the floor. But this time, he didn’t. He didn’t protest, didn’t fight back, didn’t even flinch. He allowed you to take the lead. He allowed you to take control of him.

When the thought hit you, you nearly choked on the air you breathed. And you breathed, heavily and quickly, until your breaths mingled into one. You leaned further down, so close that the tip of your nose almost touched his. His chest rose and fell quickly. You could tell, even though you kept your focus on his face.

“You meant it.” You whispered breathlessly.

He stared at you with his mouth slightly agape and then he slowly shook his head. “You’re more.” He whispered back.

More than a toy?

More than a doll?

More than just his girl?

You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t allow yourself to hope, because if you did, the next time he crushed it, it would be ever harder for you to find back to yourself. And did you really want to risk that?

You shook your head, ready to come up with the next bitter, biting response, when his words caught you off-guard.

“You’re not only mine”, he said quietly. “I’m also yours.”

God, this was confusing. And slowly you felt yourself get as dizzy and nauseous as you would have on a rollercoaster. You hated rollercoasters, because you were afraid of them. You hated them, because you never went on one.

“You’re two people at once.” You whispered breathlessly. “How do I know, when your evil twin will be back?”

He smiled slowly. Even now, even when you felt heartbroken and furious, his smile meant so much to you. It made everything seem beautiful. Everything was easier. Nothing hurt.

Until it did.

“I know.” He whispered. “Maybe you could try and put him in his place, every once in a while.”

You stared at him with wide eyes. Did he really allow you to take control? Just like that? Was it a trick? Was it a game? A joke? Something even more evil he’d come up with?

Whatever it was, you were dying to find out. Because you were sure, you’d get punished anyway. So, why not make use of it?

You took a shaky breath and leaned further down, so close, until your lips almost touched.

“You really didn’t mean it?” You asked in the ghost of a whisper.

His gaze briefly wandered down to your lips, before he looked into your eyes again.

“No.” He whispered back. “Not even I am that dense.”

That nearly made you smile.

But just nearly.

Instead you did something else. You leaned further down, until your lips finally touched his. The kiss was feather-light and hesitant. The touch was so gentle, that you caught yourself asking yourself in your head, if it really was the same man.

He was letting you kiss him. He didn’t try anything. Didn’t try to part your lips or pull you closer. Didn’t try to push your legs apart. His hands were still motionless under yours, all that he did was slowly caress the back of your hands with his fingers.

He participated in the kiss. He kissed you back, obviously. But all he did was mirror your touch.

You were in control.

You gasped against his lips. You had no idea what to do. It felt odd. Maybe even wrong. The only things you had ever fantasized about were to get controlled by someone else.

Controlled by him.

And for you to control him, it sounded like an impossible endeavor. It felt like one, even more. But there you were. On his lap. Slowly guiding the pace.

You swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know what to do.” You whispered into the kiss.

He hummed very quietly. “Imagine I’m the good twin.” He whispered back and pulled back just enough to look at your face. “There is no right or wrong. Just do whatever feels good.”

You bit your lip as you watched him closely. It could still be a trick. But in the back of your mind, you knew it wasn’t. It was an attempt to heal you. Heal him as well, maybe. You were both damaged. Both two fragments, incomplete and alone. Was it possible that you could heal each other?

It sounded strange in your head. You wanted to be controlled. And he survived off the feeling of being in control. But maybe, just maybe, this was what you both needed. A role reverse. A chance to grow. A chance to connote. Just this once.

To become one, whole thing.

You took a deep, shaky breath and brushed your lips over his. You were still nervous. But you tried to do what he said. Just do whatever feels good.

And maybe it would.

You hesitantly, almost shyly, ran the tip of your tongue along his lower lip. His reaction surprised you. He moaned. You really expected him to get off on nothing but cruelty and violence. But somehow the feeling of you, of being with you, in any way, seemed to be enough.

You needed to try it. The shift. The control. Even just this once.

You slowly parted his lips with your tongue and yours met his in a timid, careful movement. He was still the one guiding you. But the biggest reason was, that you had no idea what you were doing. But he was holding himself back. You were on top, pressed against him.

He was yours.

Your man. Your psychopath. Maybe even your lover.

The kiss went on and your movements became more and more confident. You didn’t actually care what you were doing, as long as you heard the soft moans he tried to suppress. And every time he did, you couldn’t help but moan, too. Your tongues tangled in a sinful dance and you slowly slid your fingertips over his wrists and up his arms. Until you eventually reached his shoulders. His neck. His hair. His cheek. His chin.

You hadn’t realized how quickly you were breathing. All the time you expected him to push you away, to reject you, to stop you. But he never did.

Your hand stilled against his face and you pulled your head back to look at him. To see if he was going to stop you. Mock you. Hurt you some more.

But his expression was more earnest than you had ever seen before. You could see the way his throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed and the small, tiny frown of focus on his face. He looked much more mature in that moment than he usually did. When he wore that twisted smile, he looked younger. Carefree. But in that moment, he looked like a man who had seen life.

And death.

And taken a part in it.

He slowly parted his lips, when your fingers stilled against them, inviting you. Your mouth fell open and you inhaled sharply as you felt his tongue dart out.

“God, what are you-“ You stopped yourself and instead released the softest moan, when he ran his tongue along your index finger. His hand gently circled your wrist and he pressed his lips against the back of your hand. Your knuckles. And eventually each finger.

You watched him in awe, realizing you were only ever falling deeper for him.

What was it with that man that you loved him so much, despite all the pain he put you through?

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. The watching, the silence. You squeezed his hand and your head dipped forward. Your lips found his neck and you made a point of kissing each and every spot of skin you found on the way. His eyes fell shut and he took a shaky breath.

“No.” He whispered. “Wait.”

You immediately froze, expecting the inevitable rejection. But instead, he bit his lip and slowly slid his hands under your nightdress. The calloused skin of his palms ran up your back and he gently slid the material up, until he finally managed to pull it over your head and onto the ground. His gaze wandered from your face, down to your neck, where it lingered and eventually further down to your breasts and your stomach.

“God.” He whispered breathlessly. “God, you’re perfect.” He bit his lip again and met your gaze. “Let me worship you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you tilted your head to the side, only to feel his lips brush along your earlobe and eventually over your neck. You closed your eyes and sighed softly. It was the best feeling in the world.

His lips caressed your neck and his tongue occasionally darted out, drawing a moan from your lips. He moved with devilish slowness, a torturous pace, slow enough to make you melt into a puddle of desire on top of him. A part of you almost wanted to beg him. Beg him to go faster, to touch you harder, to take you. But you didn’t. Because another part of you wanted to savor every second of this.

When you felt the wet heat of his mouth move lower and embrace the sensitive skin of your breast, you felt your eyes roll back in your head. The sigh that came over your lips was more of a moan. You gently buried your fingers in his hair and played with it. Every time his tongue slipped out to run over the curve of your breast, you felt your hips press down against his own on pure instinct. You felt how hard he was, painfully so. But he didn’t press his hips up against you, he didn’t even try once. He was skilled at ignoring his own need, when he wanted to. He made you feel like a princess. Like all that mattered in the world were you.

You squirmed and shuddered when he moved underneath you, brushing his tongue down a wet path on your stomach.

His hands encircled the back of your thighs and he held you firmly, his fingers gently digging into your skin. And he moved. Lower and lower. Until you felt his hot breath kiss the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. A soft whimper left you and you bit your lip to keep yourself from begging. He was going to give you whatever you wanted. Today, there was no need to beg.

He slowly but firmly pushed your legs apart, and settled in-between them, still lying on his back and ignoring his own ache. He shot you a pointed look, before he finally stuck out his tongue and rolled it over the warm wetness of your need.

“Oh, God.”

He hit every right spot at the first try and you could no longer stay silent. His grip on your thighs tightened and he silently encouraged you to move. Move. Take what you want.

You swallowed a shaky moan and began to tentatively move your hips. It didn’t take long for you to figure out how it worked, how you had to move. It was so easy and the pleasure rolled over you like a warm bath.

“Oh, God.” You whispered again, tightening your hand in his hair.

He did the most sinful things, sliding his tongue inside you and pulling it back out, running it along every spot, embracing your center of pleasure with his warm lips and it felt like Heaven. He knew where to kiss, where to lick, where to suck and where to flick his tongue. He knew everything. And in that moment, you didn’t care one bit about where he gained that knowledge.

Because he used it on you.

And he’d be using it on your for as long as you were his girl.

And you wanted to be his girl for the rest of your life.

“Yes. There. Right there.” You gasped out, moving your hips again and silently begging him to continue, to give you what you wanted, to give you him.

And he did nothing less than that. He kissed you like he’d kiss your lips, he tightened his grip, he didn’t let you back away. His mouth was firmly attached to your body, eager to give you everything you wanted. Letting you ride yourself to bliss.

Which was exactly what you did. You didn’t even realize it, by how suddenly it happened, but your release rolled over you like a flash of lightning. It felt more intense than ever. You felt everything deeply and he didn’t stop, until he was sure, you were entirely spent and satisfied.

You were still gasping for air, when he finally released his grip on you and looked up at you with a soft expression.

You stared at him, trying to catch your breath. All you wanted was to say something, anything, but no words came over your lips. All you managed was the gentle touch of your palm against his cheek. He smiled slowly and covered your hand with his own. Then he slowly moved back up, so that you’d straddle his lap again.

“How was that?” He whispered.

“Fuck.” Was all that you managed.

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, but no trace of mockery. Just satisfaction and a tad bit of pride. You forgave him. You would have forgiven him anything.

“Can I?” You finally whispered. You needed to know, if you were still in control.

He smirked. He looked so confident. Just like you always knew him. Confident and strong. In control. And yet…

“I’m all yours, baby. Ride me.”

You bit your lip. Your face flushed the tiniest bit, but you nodded. Now, this was making you really nervous. You had seen videos, but were you able to do it yourself?

Why not? You thought. Why not?

You leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss. Still slow and sensual, but you poured all the passion you felt for him in that kiss. And he responded in kind. He didn’t try to take control of your mouth. Instead he moaned against your lips, every time your tongue brushed against his. He ran a hand down your back and squeezed your behind firmly in his hand.

“Fuck, I need you to ride me or I’m going to die.” He groaned as he bit your lip. You responded with another moan. You still felt his hardness press against you, hard and ready and needy.

God, the thought alone. The thought that he wanted you that much. It drove you insane.

You swallowed thickly and carefully ran a hand down his chest, down his stomach, down his waist, until-

You smiled. You missed his throbbing, aching need and brushed your fingers gently along his thigh instead.

He glared up at you, a hint of desperation behind the repressed anger.

“I should have known this would come.” He hissed.

Your smile widened into a grin, as you teasingly caressed his side instead.

“What? I’m just doing what you do.”

He released a frustrated growl.

“You-“

“Come on.” You whispered. “Let me have this. Just this once.”

He was still frustrated, but the look in his eyes softened the tiniest bit.

“But I want you.” He murmured and you swallowed.

“How much?” You whispered. God, this was fun.

“How much?” He asked incredulously. “Can’t you feel how much?”

You hummed in the same way he normally would. So innocent. So devilish.

“Paint a picture with your words.”

He exhaled sharply. But eventually he calmed down and wrapped his arms around you gently.

“I need to be inside of you or I’m going to die. I’m going to die, I mean it.”

“Keep going.” You whispered. “Talk to me.” While you spoke, you shifted slightly on his lap, gently grinding down on him and letting him feel you. Just enough to make you gasp, not enough for him to enter you yet.

He bit his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

“I want to feel you.” He murmured. “I want to fuck you. I want to be one with you. And I fucking want to cum inside you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you sighed.

“Keep going.” You responded in a breathless whisper, as you ground down against him again. The friction was enough for your both to snap your eyes shut.

“I want you to cum.” He whispered back. “I want you to cum so hard, that it’ll make you cry.”

“Fuck.” You whispered breathlessly and buried your face in his neck. “Fuck, yes.”

You swallowed again and pulled your head back up, enough to rest your forehead against his.

“Let me move then?” You whispered. “Please?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “But fucking get to it.”

You released a shaky sigh. You kept your forehead pressed against his and stared into his eyes, intense and deep, while you slowly spread your legs further. You shifted again, your movements a little awkward and insecure, but eventually you felt him press up against you and you felt his tip press against your entrance. And then you slowly lowered yourself down onto his lap. You felt him fill you, but it happened so slowly that you felt every bit of it. And all the time you kept your gaze fixed on his eyes. His reaction. Every moan, every sigh, every twitch. All of it was enough to make you moan in return. You slowly lowered yourself further down, until you felt him all the way. And when you did…You didn’t move. You stayed like that. Just feeling. Just feeling all of him.

And the look in his eyes was worth it.

You had never seen him this soft, this vulnerable before. Not even when he told you about his father. His eyes were softer than ever before and you suddenly realized; you had never seen him this needy. This desperate to feel you. You were sure, just a second more and he would either take control or beg you. But you couldn’t let that happen.

It was his first time to let someone else take control after all.

And you couldn’t have him begging. You couldn’t have him do anything that would make him feel ashamed, when he was so unabashedly doing everything in order to make you happy.

So finally you moved. Slowly and carefully, very unsure still. But you moved. And he moaned. And he moved. And you moaned.

You had never felt him this deep before, this hard, this raw.

“Ride me.” He whispered breathlessly. “Ride daddy’s cock, baby.”

Your face flushed even more, but all you could focus on were his words. You movements became more forceful, more frantic, more desperate. And as hard as he tried not to move at all, it was simply impossible. He pressed his hips up against you, letting you feel him, so hard and God, so desperate.

“Yes. Yes, babygirl, just like that. Let daddy fill you up.” He groaned out.

With every thrust, every move, you felt yourself get closer yet again. It felt like a fantasy.

“Yes. Yes, my sweet girl, my baby, my darling, my love-“

His eyes widened frantically. He panicked. You could tell. So did you. On the inside. But on the outside, you pretended. You pretended all you could, that you hadn’t heard it.

The L-word.

The word that nearly broke you.

No, you hadn’t heard it. He had never said it. It was just a slip-up. A simple mistake. Nothing to get hot and bothered about.

When he realized you didn’t react, he slowly calmed down again and tightened his grip on your hips. His own movements became more and more desperate, until he was pounding into you from underneath.

“Fuck, yes. Cum for me, my babygirl. Cum for me, my darling. Take every drop of my cum.”

His words were enough to drive you over the edge. With a sharp inhale, a breathless moan, you felt your own orgasm hit you again. And he went over the edge right with you.

Your lips just an inch apart and your eyes fixed on each other.

Deep.

And raw.

“Yes.” He growled. “Oh God, yes. Fuck, yes. My girl. My girl, my...” His voice cracked and he came with a roar. He pushed his hips against you with a fervor that nearly left you bruised from the inside and it made your release drag on and on, until you felt you were about to take off to the sky.

It took you a few seconds, but when you both finally came back down from your high, you realized you were still staring into each other’s eyes. You mouth slightly agape and gasping for air, your brows furrowed and your bodies still connected in the most intimate way. You didn’t want him to withdraw yet. You wanted to feel his release run along your thighs. You wanted to feel dirty like that and at the same time you wanted something else entirely.

Stay close.

Stay together.

My love.

The word kept echoing through your mind like a poem, like a curse.

Like a death warrant.

My love.

He buried his hand in your hair and gently tugged on it.

“That…was…”

You had never seen him speechless before. The sight stirred so much in you.

You idiot girl. He hurt you, he hurt you so terribly and all you wanted right now was him beside you, at all times, maybe with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly.

God, you were just as insane as he was. Probably even more so.

He was a psychopath. What was your excuse?

You tried to distract yourself from your thoughts and so you decided to take control a last time. Your head dipped forward and you kissed him. With a tenderness that made your heart ache. And he responded. With a softness that left you breathless.

My love.

Half an hour later, you finally managed to get your hands off of each other. After you finished your bathroom routine, he invited you to the shower with him. You’d join him in a minute, you decided, while you were on your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Your mouth felt dry, your whole body did actually.

You felt sore as hell, but God. God.

The memory of it made you smile. You had never felt more loved in your life. Never felt more special, more desired, more…

A sound made you snap out of your thoughts and you looked up from the ground. What you saw made your heart stop.

The door.

The fucking door.

You mind went blank and your heart stopped beating.

The fucking door was open.

You swallowed thickly. Was it a test? Probably. Did you consider leaving?

You took a deep breath and slowly stepped into the hallway. The front door was open and there was that visitor’s terrace with a glass door attached to it, which led to the great staircase of the apartment complex.

It was a test. Or something equally cruel.

But what if it wasn’t?

What if he truly made a mistake? He was only human after all.

You stared at the glass door like you would have stared at an alien.

This was probably your only ever chance. To flee. Escape.

Get back to…

To what?

To normality, you told yourself.

To safety.

A lump formed in your throat. Did you want that? Did you even want to leave?

Even if it wasn’t a test, did you truly want to leave him?

The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth. It almost felt like acid and it weighed like a heavy stone on your heart. The thought of sleeping alone again, of never seeing his silly smile again. Even the twisted one, you’d miss.

The thought of never feeling his lips on yours again.

His hands in your hair, his voice in your ear.

His everything.

Him.

You were his girl.

You couldn’t just up and leave. What was there in the world for you?

Maybe this was exactly your destiny. Him. Him. Him.

He was all you needed, right? He took care of you. He provided for you.

He loved you. In his own, twisted way.

My love.

You couldn’t, you decided. You couldn’t leave. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t ever-

The sound of someone’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, but to your horror, it wasn’t him. Your eyes widened impossibly when you saw the form of a man approaching.

He looked like a janitor or something like that. A man far past his prime with greying hair and a kind smile.

God, you had missed kindness.

But no, no, you were his girl. You were his girl. You wouldn’t ever leave.

You took a step back like a cornered animal as the man approached and said something to you in Korean. When you backed away even more, he stopped and his eyes widened in surprise.

He kept talking to you, kept speaking in that reassuring tone of voice.

“I…don’t…understand.” You breathed out.

You didn’t even realize how you must have looked, terrified and broken. A faint mark on your cheek. Your clothes crumpled. Bite marks, love bites, more marks on your throat.

He frowned slightly and tilted his head to the side.

“Miss-“ He said in a thick, Korean accent. “Miss- The man that’s live here- The man- Is he-“

In that moment, you felt it. His presence was so prominent, you didn’t need to hear him call out to you. You just felt it. He came in, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet from the shower. He most likely came to look why you hadn’t come yet.

You quickly spun around and met his gaze, your expression horrified. Your eyes were so expressive.

The door was open. He came by himself. It wasn’t my fault. Please! It wasn’t my fault!

Something hard flashed through his eyes, but it was only visible to you and it was only there for the blink of an eye. And then it was gone and it got replaced by the tight smile.

A tight, polite smile, directed at the janitor in the doorway. He spoke to him in Korean and stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You stared at the ground, completely horrified.

Oh no, you thought.

Oh no. This is it.

_____________________________

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@hayakamis-blog Thank you for your lovely request, I loved the idea and I hope it turned out the way you hoped!

Author's note: I'll be honest with you, guys, this chapter cost me YEARS of my life, omg. I wrote 5000 words yesterday and then realized I didn't like what I was writing, so I deleted everything and did this today instead. I hope it was the right decision! On a super exhausted note, I'll try to answer all of your sweet, lovely messages in time!!! I'm not even exaggerating, a few of them really made me cry. Not almost, but for real. I don't know what I did to deserve all this kindness and love, but I really, really love you all! SO much!

[hiwherestheexit]

Fuck, that one hit close to home

When I still lived with my parents, they had three cats. One is still alive and well, one disappeared for four years before popping back into existence two months ago (which still is fucking wild but not what this reblog is about) and the last, the most social, dog-in-a-cat's body of the bunch was found on the road by our neighbor one summer morning

(Now both my parents and I do not let our cats outside, but we didn't know better then)

That loss hit hard. Everyone loved that little weirdo. My parents, my siblings, everyone who spent even an evening at our house remembered that fearless cuddlebug. The worst part is that none of us could say goodbye. She was already gone when she was found

I was already struggling with mental issues then, so that was the rotten sherry on the shit cake. But one miserable month after, I dreamed of her

My dream self didn't really realize anything was amiss at first. But the thing is, I practice lucid dreaming. I don't really have much control over my dreams, just enough that I can just walk away if I have a nightmare

So I do my check, realize I have way too many fingers for this to be real, look back at my cat and thinks "Oh right, you're dead, aren't you"

And this sucks, it's disappointment and loss twice over, but also... my cat is there. She'll be gone again by morning but for now, I can touch her, pet her, hold her, and say goodbye.

When I awoke and lost her again, I felt only relief. I never dreamt of her again.

I joke a lot that she came by to say goodbye too, but while I'm not superstitious, sometimes I do wonder.

tw: death

Have you had any visitors lately? ❣️

[justjudethoughts]

The hardest part about recovering from Religious OCD is that you are eventually going to have to make the most terrifying leap of faith in the world: to admit that you have done all you can, and trust that God is going to take care of the rest.

For someone who has never experienced OCD, that probably doesn't sound scary at all. But believe me, when you seriously believe that your immortal soul is on the line, that kinda of trust take every last thing you have.

To trust that He wants you in heaven more than you want to be in heaven. To trust that He knows how much you love Him, even when you think that you aren't positive that you love Him. To trust that jumping through hoops isn't what gets you to heaven—His arms are.

For a Catholic, that probably looks like trusting your loved ones when they tell you that you don't need to go to confession. "Okay, but what if I did that time, and it happens to be the ONE time I wasn't obsessing?" 1) the likelihood of that happening is slim to none BUT 2) if it did, do you really think a God Who is love and mercy itself would hold that against you? Don't you know that He knows how confused and scared you are? Don't you know that He knows that you are trusting your loved ones because your brain can't be trusted? Don't you know that He knows that you love Him so much you want to never, ever, ever hurt Him, and you are just trying to be healthy? That is the leap of faith you have to make.

For an Evangelical, it likely looks like doing your best to dismiss questions about whether or not you are saved. You did what you knew to do. You repented, you were baptized, you love God and you are continuing to seek Him out. "But what if I didn't repent right?" --- If you weren't repentant, you wouldn't be worried about it. You love Jesus with everything in you. I know you do. Because if you didn't, you wouldn't be sobbing over the sinner's prayer, trying to say it "correctly." Jesus knows. Jesus knows Your heart, and He came to earth for you, and the misfiring neurons in your brain are not going to be what determines your eternal salvation. He wants you. And you want Him. And that's enough. That's your leap of faith.

And some point, you have to throw your hands in the air and say "Jesus, I did everything I can. I'm scared, and I'm confused, and I don't understand anything, and I don't know what to do anymore. So will you figure it out for me?" And rest in that. Because He will figure it out for you. You don't need to be solving all those mental puzzles. He knows the answers.

He is not mad at you for being confused. He is not upset with you for being scared. He is not angry that you don't have all the answers. Righteousness is not necessarily determined by clarity. He is not impatient with you for being a little lost. He does not begrudge you for your illness.

That is the scariest leap of faith you will ever take. But brothers and sisters, there is freedom on the other side. There is joy on the other side. And Christ will catch you when you jump.

[wonderjanga]

Why’s Cap Acting like an Asshole?

Thavma and Billy have been separated for about two weeks now.

Without Billy, Thavma is simply the Living Lightning. Sure it’s alive, but it doesn’t have morals, opinions, none of that. Instead, all of that is shaped by its host. So, without Billy, Thavma doesn’t really care for anything.

Though, that doesn’t stop it from trying to care about the stuff Billy does.

Thavma: *standing outside of a burning building*

Mother: “My baby! My baby is still inside!”

Thavma: *closes its eyes and takes the biggest breath, sounding so done because he does not want to help*

Baby: *wailing*

Thavma: *floats into the building to save the baby and anyone else with an annoyed expression*

To be honest, all Thavma wants to do is protect the Rock. And Billy. But mostly the Rock. The reason for this is because of the fact The Living Lightning was solely made to protect the center of Magic. It does not care for saving people, but it does care about eliminating threats to the Rock, which most of Billy’s villains are. If that ends up helping anyone but the Rock, that was an extra bonus.

Speaking of villains, like stated earlier, a few of them are threats to Magic. Such as Black Adam. In Thavma’s mind, that means he automatically has to be eliminated. No mercy.

That’s how Black Adam was greeted with the Champion actually trying to kill him and almost succeeding. He’s never seen the man so bloodlusted and silent during a fight before. He’s also never seen the man use the full extent of his abilities. In other words, Thavma is much more in tune with its own strengths and weaknesses and was whooping Black Adam’s ass with extreme efficiency. This is because while Thavma doesn’t have any morals and such, he still has memories from previous champions, and although they had different gods as patrons, their strengths and speed and all that were the same.

In short, this was a guy with about 5000 years of experience fighting a guy with over 100,000.

Anyways, the fight got so bad that the JL pulled up as Thavma was literally about to force Black Adam to say Shazam with MIND CONTROL MAGIC that neither Adam nor the JL have ever seen him use before.

Supes: *sounds disturbed* “Since when can you do mind control??”

Thavma: *looks over to them with a judgmental eyebrow raise cause why’re Billy’s little friends here*

Batman: “Captain, please step away from Black Adam.”

Thavma: *torn between protecting the Rock and not wanting to mess up Billy and the JL’s friendships*

Thavma eventually decided that when Billy became his host again, the boy might be upset about losing these people. The boy being upset could affect his ability to protect the Rock in the future and so he reluctantly stepped away from Adam.

Thavma: *steps away but does a little annoyed sigh reminiscent of a moody teenager*

Black Adam: *flies away, glancing over his shoulder every now and then*

Flash: *zooms over* ”Cap, buddy, what was that?”

Thavma: *really doesn’t want to talk to these guys at all* “Nothing. I must take my leave now. Good day.” *tries to speed walk away*

Flash: *wondering why he’s talking like that* “Dude, wait up!”

JL: *all follow after him kinda like ducklings*

Thavma honestly didn’t know how his host put up with these mortals. They ask so many questions.

GL: “Cap, you haven’t shown up to the last few meetings. What’s up with that?”

Thavma: “I forgot.”

Supes: “Forgot? I thought you never forgot things. You said something about the Wisdom of Solomon making it so that you couldn’t. Has something been making you that busy?

Thavma: “Yes.”

Wondy: “What is it? Some kind of villain?”

Thavma: “It’s nothing, and no.”

The “nothing” in question has just been it lounging around the Rock because that’s what it was made to do: protect the Rock. Being around it often is the easiest way to ensure that. The Champions not staying often was something Thavma always found idiotic. Why did they care about their villages or cities when their duty was to the Rock? At that thought, Thavma could only sigh and shake his head. Mortals.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Love Sweet Love

Hi guys!

Happy Steph's day ♥

I'm sorry, I haven't posted for a very long time but I'm working on it. I hope you will love this new Chapter of my Steph's series. You don't have to read the first two, but it's a plus I think.

You can find them here : Lightning Love | Struck By Love

Please enjoy ♥

And Happy Birthday to Steffy ♥

TW : None

When you come back from the USA, after your injury against Colombia, Steph makes you live in her house. Officially to help you with your injury and because she doesn’t have any stairs in her new house. Which is really a good point, because almost all of the other people who could have offered their help actually have stairs in their home.

Steph and you have been friends since you were teenagers, so no one asks any questions when you mention that you are living with Steph for now.

With time, your things found a specific place in Steph’s house, and she even made some more space in her closet for your clothes. Your Tottenham jerseys are washed with her Arsenal ones, you share the vegemite pots that your grandmother sends you and you sometimes wear Steph’s shirt to sleep.

You love the intimacy between you and how everything is so easy with Steph. She is the most easy-going person in the world, and you are falling in love even harder with her every day.

You’re a little afraid of when it will be time for you to go back to your own apartment. It will probably be soon, because your cast has been removed two weeks ago, and you now have an ankle splint to help you walk. You are supposed to still use your crutches, even if you don’t when you are home. You prefer jumping around on one foot.

It drives Steph crazy.

Steph isn’t home for two days now, she had a game in Liverpool and left with the Arsenal squad. You weren’t able to go to watch her because you had to go to your rehab. So, you went to watch Tottenham playing at home instead, cheering for your teammates. Charli and her fiancé came with you to walk Calvin those two days and for the others walk you just stayed around Steph’s house or went in the garden with him.

When you come back home after the game, a look at the clock tells you that your girlfriend will be home in one hour.

You are so grateful for Steph, her patience while you were injured and all the little attentions she had for you during this time. So, you decided to thank her with a real good meal tonight, with all the romanticism you have in you.

You set the table with a red tablecloth, a vase with some roses in the middle of the table and some candles. You listened to the florist talking about the number of flowers for the bunch of flowers, not even knowing before that the number had a meaning. Coming back home, you thought a little bit about your ex-girlfriends and wonder what they would think about your behavior.

You kind of explained to Leila what happened with Steph, without giving her the name of your girlfriend. But you needed to explain to her the reality of your feelings and why things didn’t work between you two.

For dinner, you chose Steph’s favourite meal, and you ordered the ingredients needed to be delivered to you here. It’s way easier for you like this, doing your shopping in crutches would have been way too complicated.

Steph’s car wheels squeak on the gravel in front of the house several minutes after. You jump between the fridge and the table with the starters when Steph opens the door.

A cream and red flash passes next to you when Calvin runs to great Steph, making you smile softly. You distinctly hear Steph cooing and greeting Calvin back, before coming in your direction.

“No! Don’t come here! Close your eyes!”

“Why? What have you done?”

You jump on one foot in her direction, seeing that Steph had in fact closed her eyes. She looks so cute with her low bun, her scarf and her training clothes that you can’t help yourself but steal her a kiss.

You feel her smile against your lips and then kiss her cheek when she talks.

“Is it to distract me about the fact that you are walking without your crutches?”

“No” you giggle. “Can you walk without opening your eyes please?”

You take her bag from her hand and put your hands on her shoulder to walk easier towards the table. You make her stop and move to be able to watch her reaction.

“Ok, now you can open your eyes” you say when you are in the right place.

You totally ignore the table you settled a little bit before, your eyes only looking at her. Steph’s eyes go wild for a moment while she takes everything in sight. You are suddenly nervous, wondering if it’s maybe too much. Or stupid? You never talked about it finally, but isn’t a girl supposed to like being surprised?

Maybe it’s not a good idea finally, after being away Steph maybe just wants to take a shower and go to bed.

“Did you do all of it yourself?” she asks finally, turning to face you.

“Yeah” you nod, fidgeting with your fingers. “I wanted to thank you properly for the way you took so good care of me while I was just like a burden hurt teenager. I am really thankful for you and your patience and your kindness”

You are totally rambling now, talking a little too fast and almost breathless. You weren’t looking at her while talking, looking at the flowers in the middle of the table. But when you feel her grab your hand, you look at your girlfriend again.

“You have nothing to thank me for, I did it because I wanted it. Even if you are terrible to look after, you little troublemaker”

You smile shyly and let yourself relax when she hugs you. You pass your hands around her neck, taking advantage of your position to breathe her scent. You really missed her.

“Do you mind if I go take a shower quickly before we eat, though?”

“No, it’s a great idea. You stink” you smirk.

You giggle when she smacks you behind your head, clinging against her when she pretends to push you away.

“You’re so mean”

“Yes, but I made diner”

She rolls her eyes and smiles before you let her go. She doesn’t smell at all, but you totally understand the need to take a shower and refresh herself after a long travel day.

You lean on the furniture behind you, looking at her leaving to go to the bathroom.

“Steph?” you call her just before she closes the door.

“Yeah?”

You look at her curious face exceeding the port frame two seconds before smiling softly.

“I really missed you”

Her eyes go soft, and you would literally die for the smile coming on her face right now. There is a tenderness in her eyes, and you sometimes are still surprised when you realise that it is destined to you.

“I missed you too” she says softly. “I’ll be quick, okay?”

“Yeah” you smile back.

You look at her going inside the room again, before jumping back towards the kitchen.

“Use your crutches!” you hear her shout from the bathroom.

You roll your eyes again before deciding to oblige and go to look for them. You don’t really know where you left them, and you finally spot them next to the door of Steph’s bedroom. Then you go back to the kitchen and start to warm up a little what you will eat after the starters.

A little lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear Steph coming back. She takes you by surprise, passing her arms around your waist and kissing your cheek at the same time. You almost jump off your skin, which she seems to find very funny.

“You’re so annoying” you grumble, even if you are smiling.

You just can’t resist her laugh.

“I’m sorry. What can I do to help you?”

“Just put your ass on that chair, Catley”

“As you wish”

You weren’t expecting her to take you in her arms, carrying you like a bride, to the table. She then puts you in your chair before sitting in front of you. That wasn’t exactly how you were picturing things, but it’s maybe better like this. At least you aren’t scowled one more time because of those damn crutches.

You have to admit that you are pretty satisfied about how you were able to cook everything. You like cooking, you sometimes don’t have the time or even the energy to do it. But today you really liked cooking for your girlfriend.

After the diner, you went for a quick walk with Calvin and then to the living room. Arsenal men are playing, and it probably will be a good game. You take advantage to snuggle against Steph, happy to find her arms back. She absently strokes your back under your shirt while watching the game, talking sometimes about something that comes into your minds.

“Dean wrote to me earlier today” Steph says casually.

You feel your heart missing a beat and a strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach. All the fun you had after sharing Calvin's last mischief in the park is now very far away.

“What did he want?”

Your tone is flat, probably giving Steph a hint that you may not be handling this information as easily as you should.

“He wanted to see Calvin”

You can feel her eyes on you, but you look straight in front of you, looking at the TV screen without really looking at it.

“I thought Calvin was your dog only, not his?” you frown.

“He’s mine only, but he still wants to see him again”

You just hum for any answer. You don’t believe it for a single second, in your opinion it’s just an excuse to be able to see Steph again. You know that your girlfriend is the one who ended the things between them. Now that some time has passed, maybe he wants to see if they maybe could get closer again.

You don’t like the strange feeling, now not only in your stomach, but in all your body. You maybe are with Steph for several weeks even months now, but you still don’t take your relationship for granted. You are fully aware that you can lose Steph at any time. Few people know about your relationship after all, it would probably not mean much in the eyes of the world. To yours, however, it would be worse than anything.

On another hand, you can’t tell her that you don’t want her to see him. You won’t take that right.

You raise your eyes on Steph when she pokes at your ribs, to see that she’s still looking at you.

“You know that if I ended things and cancelled my engagement with him, it’s for a good thing, right?”

“Of course” you mumble, looking at the screen again.

She already told you that he might have a thing with a girl he was talking to while they were still together. But other than that, you never really asked about him. Steph never mentioned him either, to be fair.

“Are you still talking to him regularly?” you ask finally, raising your eyes on her again.

“Nope. It was the first time he wrote to me since Christmas. You’re the one being friend with your ex”

She’s right here. Since the confessions you made to Leila, you and her are friends again. She started throwing teasing comments on your Instagram’s post again and you call each other from time to time.

“If it bothers you…” you begin while sitting.

“Not at all” she smiles “It was just to point out that you are still in contact with one of your exes too. But I trust you.”

“I trust you too. But Leila knows we are together. Your ex doesn’t even know that you aren’t single anymore.”

“I’ll let him know, okay?”

She’s looking at you with so much affection that you can only smile back at her. You feel your body relax again and you cuddle closer to her again.

“Okay” you say, burying your face in her hoodie.

********

Several days later, you are finally able to walk without any crutches, having received the green light from the physio team. You don’t feel any discomfort in your foot anymore and it’s a really good point.

In fact, you were even able to train with the rest of the team today and that makes you happier than ever. You probably won’t be able to play that weekend, but it’s obvious that it will be okay for next week.

You are practically hopping when you come home that day, parking your car next to Steph’s one in the driveway. You frown when you see that there is another car too, not recognizing it like Beth’s car or even one of her teammates. In your memories, no one is driving a Skoda.

Like usual, Calvin comes to greet you when you arrive, this time silently stroking himself around your legs. You pet him, before hearing voices coming from the living room.

“I just… It doesn't make any sense to me. I thought you were friend with her, nothing else”

Dean. What the hell is he doing here? You frown again, taking two steps to be able to hear better what is happening in that living room. None of them heard you coming in.

“Nothing ever happened while we were together, Dean” you hear Steph sigh.

“Still. She just waited for us to be over to shoot her shot?”

“Not at all. She doesn’t even say anything, I kind of pushed her to know about her breakup at Emily’s wedding and… Well, you don’t have to know everything, but I was the one figuring out alone her feelings for me. Then all clicks and it was like evidence”

There is a beam of silence, only broken by Calvin chewing with application one of Dean’s shoes. You let him do it with a cold satisfaction. You don’t like the way that man tries to make you pass for the one corrupting Steph in the wrong way.

In contrast, you love the way Steph doesn’t share everything with him. It belongs to you and her, not him.

“And just for the record, you were the one getting over it very quickly with that girl from your medical team”

“It wasn’t serious. She was just a rebound”

“You were talking with her when we were still together.”

You can easily picture Steph, her eyebrow arched, and her arms crossed on her chest.

“It was a mistake” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have done that. If I knew it would push you to end things between us, I wouldn’t even have looked at her.”

“She wasn’t the reason for our breakup. I mean maybe a small part of it, but it wasn’t the big deal. What I said at this point was valid and still is. I just don’t have any love feeling for you anymore”

Must be painful to hear, but at least you have to give credit to Steph for standing her ground and being clear with him. You empathise a little bit with him though, you will be destroyed if Steph ended things between you. Even if you never will talk to someone else like he did.

“Okay but what will you do when you will want to start a family? You won’t even be able to do it together”

Okay, we are now finished with empathy. Maybe now is the best time to make your appearance. You go for the door again, opening it without any discretion.

“Love, I'm home!” you shout happily while almost slamming the door.

You take off your shoes quickly without even untie the laces, petting Calvin’s head.

“Living room” you hear her answer.

Deciding to put it more in the show, you start to talk while you are still outside the room.

“Did you know that Hayl… Oh. Hi.”

Dean and Steph are both standing in the room, separated by at least two meters from each other. You look at the both of them, taking the situation. He seems upset and doesn’t answer anything, and you drag your gaze away from him when Steph talks.

“Hi Sweets. How was training?”

“Great”

You smile at her and hesitate to go for her, but when she raises her arm to invite you to hug her, you don’t hesitate. You pass your arms around her waist, kissing her cheek softly. You don’t want to push things too far either, you know she won’t like it.

You cringe a little at the silence coming after that, exchanging a glance with Steph. You want to know what the hell is this guy doing here, but you don’t really know how to ask that question.

“Dean informed me that he found some of my things in his boxes and wanted to give them back” Steph informs you.

You probably will be forever grateful at how much Steph knows you and seems to read into you. You just nod before turning your eyes toward him. He was already looking at you and you know that look perfectly. He seems to be jealous of your proximity, but you won’t move.

Maybe it’s a stupid thing to want to mark territory, but you don’t want him to pop randomly at Steph’s door, now that he knows where she lives. Anyway, you don’t take your hand off of your girlfriend’s back.

“Lucky you were home” you finally answer.

“I didn’t realise I needed to ask for approval to see my ex-fiancée” he growls.

“She lives here too, actually” Steph intervenes before you even can open your mouth “She has her words to say”

You use your better poker face at this, because you totally aren’t living here officially. Now that you are able to walk correctly you could probably go back to your home, but you never really left. Steph never asked you to do and never made you feel like you were too much here.

“I have to go” Dean finally says. “I have training”

You don’t move but Steph nods, saying goodbye too. You can’t hide the smile creeping on your face when you hear him grumbling when he finds his chewed shoe, Calvin now sleeping peacefully on his bed next to the couch.

You love that dog.

When the door is closed, you feel Steph take a deep breath and lean a little more against you. You realised how tense she was, but you are surprised by such a relief.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, kissing her temple.

“It was the first time I saw him since I left our home” she explains to you. “I told him I was seeing someone without saying your name, but he didn’t want to leave before knowing how you are. I’m sorry, I don’t think we will be able to hide our relationship for any longer”

“It’s not a problem for me” you shrug. “People have known that I love women since my teenage era. What about you, though?”

“I don’t know” she begins slowly. “I haven’t any problem with Kyra knowing it to be honest. But maybe I’ll need to talk about it to my family first”

“Okay. If you need me, just tell me, yeah?”

Stephs smile softly at you, and you kiss her for good this time. The kiss is soft and slow, and you feel her thumb stroking your cheek softly.

“So, what did Hayley do?”

********

Later that day, you are looking at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts. Even if you tried all the rest of the day to forget about Dean and what he said, some things are dancing in your mind.

Did Steph and him talked about starting a family? And if it was the case, why does it bother you so much? They planned to get married; you shouldn’t be so disturbed with that. You know you are lucky to finally be with the girl of your dreams, but that strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach won’t go away.

You tried to distract yourself by cooking with Steph, playing some video games with her and telling her about your first training back since your injury, and it went pretty great to be honest.

But now with Steph under the shower and Calvin sleeping, you are alone with your thoughts.

“I was waiting for you to come with me”

Steph’s teasing voice makes you smile softly. You turn on your side to look at her when she enters the room, wearing a big shirt and probably panties, even if you can’t see them given the size of that shirt.

“You are the most beautiful girl in the world” you mumble.

Your smile grows wider when she rolls her eyes and makes one grimace of her own. You love her with her hair down.

“That’s true!”

“It’s not” she giggles while coming with you under the cover.

“Yes it is”

You let her have the time to lie on her back before you lay on her, sighing with ease. It’s your favourite spot in the world. You enjoy her stroke in your hair while she scrolls on her phone for several minutes, before starting to draw shapes on her hips with your fingertips.

“I can hear your brain boiling, Sweetheart” Steph finally says. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lips softly, looking for a way to approach things. Because she doesn’t know that you heard a big part of her conversation with Dean, and you don’t want to upset her. Your silence pushes her to try to guess what’s in your mind.

“Is it football related?” she asks first, and you shake your head no. “Is it about us?”

“Kinda” you hesitate. “I just…”

“Is it about something you heard earlier?”

Damn. You look at her, stunned, torn between guilt and amazement. You can see the ghost of a smile on her face and her eyes shining with fun.

“Do you think I really don’t know you?”

You roll your eyes with a smile, accepting the teasing easily. She doesn’t seem mad, and she waited for you to show something to talk about it. You really don’t deserve that girl.

“I didn’t want to intrude. I didn’t know it was him” you shrug.

“I knew it the second you passed the door” she smirks, making you smile too. “Plus, I don’t have anything to hide from you. What part of the discussion is playing with your head?”

Sitting on her hips, you pass a hand in your hair. You don’t know how to express yourself and how to tell her things. Once again, you don’t want to fight with her. But you promised each other early in your relationship that you will always discuss and talk about things, not to drag any misunderstandings along.

Steph waits patiently, looking softly at you while playing with the edge of your shirt. You finally decide to go straight to the point, it will be easier like this.

“When he talked about having a family. Is it something you discussed together?”

You try hard to fight against the pictures coming in your mind, focusing on your girlfriend’s pretty face.

“Not really” she frowns. “We were both into sport and I don’t think it was time for us to have this conversation. He was very traditional you know, first dating then living together, then engagement… One thing at time”

It does make sense actually. You nod softly, trying to process this information.

“But was it something you wanted?”

You watch her looking at you with a little bit of… angst maybe? That doesn’t seem good and just when you were going to tell her that you finally don’t want to know the answer to that question, she starts to talk again.

“No, not really. It’s very selfish but I wanted to finish my career before even thinking about it”

Oh. That wasn’t what you were expecting. It’s probably strange to feel a little relieved about it.

“It’s not selfish” you assure her with a smile, redrawing the features of her face with your fingers. “We, women, have to choose between sport or baby. It’s so stupid”

She nods softly, suddenly lost in her thoughts. It looks like things were exchanged because several minutes before you were the one thoughtful. Now you feel lighter than ever.

“What is it?” you ask, tilting your head on the side.

“What about you?”

“I was never serious enough in my relationships to even talk about it” you roll your eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to have kid one day”

She has a point. You feel your cheek getting redder because to be honest, the idea of you and Steph with a little kiddo running with Calvin in a big garden is something you would love. Maybe even back in Australia, who knows.

“I do want kids, but not carelessly. I want to have time for them, all of that…”

“Okay” Steph smiles softly.

“And a great mummy to raise them with me” you add, winking at her.

“Okay” Steph says again, laughing this time.

“But not now, though”

“Not now”

Steph repeats your sentence before suddenly grabbing you by your hips to change your position, making you lie under her while she straddles you.

“We have something else to discuss first” she says.

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah. What do I need to do for you to live officially here? Lose your keys? Burn your house?”

“You just have to ask” you laugh.

“In that case… Would you like to live here with me?”

“I’d love to”

She smiles at you with so much tenderness that you feel your heart almost burst with love. Taking her gently by the collar of her shirt, you drag her towards you to kiss her. She doesn’t wait any second to kiss you back, making you smile against her lips.

“You’re such a dork” you giggle shortly after.

“You love me, though” she answers, her head now on your shoulder.

“I do. You don’t know yet how much I do”

“I love you too.”

[mr-mandalorian]

ghost proposing, a little angst but very very sweet

they have the night off and he’d already be devouring her whole if she wasn’t so excited about going out. it’s a shit bar close to base, but she reasons it’s a good change of scenery.

and boy is it, terrible karaoke heard a mile away. the military wives, or rather soon to be, taken over. a bachelorette party of at least six women, loud and obnoxious.

soap and gaz find it to be the most hilarious thing in the world, applauding a brunette on stage over her disastrous performance of careless whisper. but ghost can’t help but watch y/n, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. throughout the night he silently dissects her, his assumption it being some sort of yearning for female company. but as one of the women come up to their table, asking if anyone from the squad could take a picture of the rowdy group, ghost swallows harshly. y/n jumps at the opportunity, congratulating the bride like they’ve know each other their whole lives.

they never discussed the nature of their relationship. hell, the word relationship was never even voiced out loud. but even a stranger could tell how they moved in sync, his reflection and her shadow. in their line of work it was best case scenario and simon never allows himself to think about there ever being more.

but that is until y/n asks to see the ring. it’s almost comical, the gigantic diamond blinding, making her squint. ghost finds himself scoffing behind the mask, he could easily read y/n’s compliment a lie. she would never wear anything like it.

the following months ghost finds himself ring shopping. fucking hell, what is he thinking, really? his tongue can’t even roll the world girlfriend. and yet here he is, glaring at the poor saleswoman like she’s supposed to know none of these expensive rocks are good enough for his y/n.

when the ring is finally chosen, he doesn’t quite know what to do. he’s horrified of y/n finding it so the ring stays on his person at all times, even in the field. he’s less talkative than usual, if that’s even possible, always looking for the right moment. brushing their teeth together in the morning, ghost buried between her thighs in the evening. he nearly does it one late night, y/n perched on the window sill of her room. swimming in moonlight, she looks ethereal. he’s done unimaginable things in his life, taken and saved lives. none of the gore ever phased him, but the sight of her has his stomach turning.

so he chickens out. regret begins to gnaw at him as the very next mission goes haywire. y/n barks at him through the comms, the sweetest sound in the world, even if she’s telling him to get out, explosives ticking in the building. he’s trying, he really is. his gear seems to get heavier by the minute with a broken rib threatening to seize his lungs. he can make out her silhouette by the exit, but it’s out of reach. the floor crumbles beneath him.

when ghost wakes up, he immediately spots soap pacing back and forth, as much as the tiny ward of the hospital would allow him. y/n is passed out in the chair next to his bed, his balaclava clutched to her chest.

“good to have you back, lt.” soap whispers not to wake the sleeping soldier. “how ye feeling?”

“was she hurt?”

“no.” soap shakes his head, knowing how important the answer is before he can move on to his long awaited teasing, pulling out a velvet box out of his pocket. “i suppose it was foolish to question who this belonged to then. didn’t take you for the marrying kind, lt.”

he wasn’t, but if it pleased y/n, he’d marry her a thousand times. and even though ghost wants to be annoyed with the sergeant, he’s already decided to promote him to best man for finding the ring before y/n could.

when ghost gets released, it takes time to find courage to open the velvet box. it’s barely holding together, taking most of the damage to protect what’s inside. the ring is chipped, the intricate band of petite diamonds has at least five distinct cuts. they’re surprisingly neat, but asymmetrical and obvious to they eye. he can only curse, what a fool he was to convince himself that there could be something more.

“what’s that?” y/n is right next to him, her stealth impressive as she appears unnoticed in his room.

he can tell her awe for the ring is genuine, eyes eyes lighting up at the piece of jewelry. she pries it out of his hold, standing close to the window to examine the gems reflecting daylight. she disregards the cracks completely, telling him it adds character to it. the sincerity of her smile makes it hard to breathe.

“so who’s the lucky girl then?” she asks, never once trying on the ring.

“who- who’s the lucky girl? bloody hell woman, who do you think?”

they’re both dumbfounded, y/n by the answer and ghost by the question. and ghost knows he said the wrong thing as y/n shrinks in her spot, her gaze glued to the floor.

“i mean- i- i really don’t know.” she stutters, growing shy likes he’s never seen her before.

“try it on.”

“what?“

“come here.“

y/n allows him to hold her hand, sliding the ring on her finger with utmost care. it fits perfect, just her size and taste. her eyes jump between him and the ring, mind going a mile a minute.

“what do you reckon?“ his voice is low and quiet, and that’s all he says. it dawns on her that he’s really doing this, proposing in the most simon riley way possible.

“i didn’t even know we were dating.” she can’t help the jaw numbing smile that overtakes her, gently squeezing her hand in his.

“‘cause we’re not. we’re engaged.”

[olderthannetfic]

I saw a really good post about David Lynch's films after his death and how they were so cathartic for OP in how they depicted assault and survivors, and then some dipshit shits all over it with something like "don't you understand that HERO WORSHIP like this is how Neil Gaiman happens? you don't know what Lynch was like in his private life!" The thing is that while obviously don't put creators on pedestals, I think that expecting someone not to be a serial rapist is in fact not a pedestal. It's baseline faith in humanity. We shouldn't be so hypervigilant that we end up wrapping around to suggesting that Gaiman's behavior is normal, by acting like it is a thing that one has to "expect."

It's not parasocial to hope Terry Pratchett didn't know (especially when we know a lot of Gaiman's famous friends who are still living didn't), and to think based on no evidence to the contrary that he likely would not have approved. Most human beings would not! I think that should be your default assumption. We've completely lost the plot on "parasocial" relationships. Parasocial is taking it as a personal betrayal that an actor you like cheats on their spouse, or other personal-life stuff that is none of your business. You don't have to care about Gaiman any which way to be horrified by what's in that Vulture article. the answer to this is not to just stop admiring artists or other famous people who make things we like, and it's not to shame people for feeling that way as though they are either somehow responsible or making themselves more vulnerable. I think if that's your take away then you kind of missed the point entirely.

--

Yeah, seriously. There are plenty of famous people who were crappy spouses or even just had very mutually-caused relationship problems or who were grouchy coworkers or otherwise not a paragon of virtue. Most of them aren't serial rapists.

[antivanwine14]

I see the posts asking what Rook brings to the squad. What is Rook good at when the rest of the Squad are experts in their fields? Rook isn't necessary to the rest. This isn't true.

A) Rook is probably the most skilled out of all the protagonists we've had. You can head canon things, but the truth is the HOF and Inquisitor were not masters in their fields before they got supremely unlucky and landed with a skill they didn't really want. Hawke really was just a person who developed over time. Rook starts as a hero who is very skilled in their craft. I'm going to speak on this from Crow Rook POV because that is who I know best, but this does apply to the others as well. Crow Rook took down 20 Antaam alone. That is not something the average Crow can do. That is skilled enough to impress Varric and get the role to work with him.

B) Rook knows how to get themselves into and out of trouble. Yes, Rook does know how to get into trouble, but Rook also sees opportunities others miss. In the opening, Harding's plan is to fire on Solas. She doesn't consider other options beside the one she is most comfortable with. Neve tells Harding no, but she also doesn't give a better solution either. Rook is the one who looks around to find other solutions.

Additionally, I wish this was commented on more but other characters acknowledge this skill of finding opportunities. Varric says to an unromanced Inquisitor that Rook is very good at Wicked Grace, a game all about cheating and opportunities. If Rook de Riva abandons Treviso, Viago also comments on this skill, that Rook would have found a way to help their city. Rook sees opportunities others miss. This is a very important skill that the other companions don't really have. There is a phrase, to a hammer, everything looks like a nail and our companions do that. Our companions are very skilled at what they do, but that means they don't usually look outside of the solution that fits their skills best, ie: Harding is always looking for the shot, Lucanis's solutions usually involve daggers, etc.

C) Rook has the soft skills to lead. Soft skills are completely underrated in life. Some people just assume that the person with the best skills at something should be the leader. This is how we get really awful leaders who have no people skills and treat their teams like crap. Leadership takes skills and none of the companions have those skills at the start. Davrin and Neve end the game as leaders, but both start having the same issue of being lone wolves who struggle to trust others. They need to learn how to trust others. Harding would probably be the best of the rest, but she is dealing with her own internal struggles with her new stone powers and the anger the titans are feeling. Rook might have some issues with confidence as being a leader, but Rook has great soft skills that allow the team to open up to them and trust them with the team's issues. Rook's confidence issues goes away with time as they get used to the role and it is the soft skills that make Rook so valuable.

Rook built the team. Remove Rook and the team would never have functioned as well as they did because of the work Rook did. Yes, they were able to accomplish a lot while Rook was in the Fade Prison, but that was because Rook had done their job. Rook had built a great team that knew what they had to do, were able to work together, and were able to do it until they could get Rook back. They trusted what Rook had done because they trusted Rook. I don't see them getting nearly as far without Rook and so Rook is absolutely essential for the squad.

[cupidbedsy]

୨୧ just what you needed ; pb5

➪ summary: your winter break had a handful of friend drama that you were sure was just caused by your overthinking, but nonetheless, paige knows exactly what you need to be cheered up

➪ warnings: none !

➪ word count: 1.6k

➪ cupid's notes: idk what to say except i hope you enjoy !

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

Being an introvert, making friends has always been hard for you. Which is why you were always content with the few friends you did have, having them was enough for you, you never needed anything more than them. 

Your friends proved to be a distraction from the fact that you had a hard time making friends in the first place, they made you seem like you were the most outgoing, extroverted person they had ever met, and they made you feel somewhat normal about it, specifically.

You had met Fiona earlier in the semester, she was a transfer student from Ohio who simply just wanted to be closer to home. The two of you had gotten along really well, bonding over similar interests and the random things you two had always seemed to find yourselves talking about. 

But recently, with being away from most of your friends due to winter break, your overthinking capabilities seemed to work overtime, reading into every single thing they did or didn’t do. You had always told yourself that that had been one of your biggest flaws and that that was the thing you needed to work on.

You pushed the thoughts out of your head, snapping back to the present where you were sitting in your dorm room reading a book. It was the first week back in Connecticut since break had ended, and you were settling in as well as you could have with how much your mind was reeling. 

Before you could send yourself down another spiral of self-deprecating thoughts, a knock on the door pulled your attention, slipping your bookmark into your book and placing it on your desk, making your way over to the door. 

You opened the door, you couldn’t have been more thankful to see who was standing on the other side of it. Paige was there, grocery bag and duffle bag in hand, and a wide smile on her lips, “Hey ma, how’s my favorite girl doing?”

You mustered up a small smile, leaning your head against the edge of the door as you stepped aside to let her in, “Could be worse, could be better.”

She was quick to step past you, throwing her duffle bag on the ground and setting the grocery bag on your bed. When she turned to face you again, her face instantly softened, you looked exhausted. “C’mere,” her voice murmured, opening her arms for you and watching you with a sharp gaze.

You couldn’t help how fast it took you to walk into her arms, wrapping your arms around her torso, grip tight. You buried your head into her chest, trying to stop the emotions that rushed through you from coming out. The tears that threatened to spill over were kept in my how tight you squeezed your eyes shut, determined not to let Paige find out what had happened, at least not yet. 

“Missed you.” Her voice was gentle as she spoke, something you were positive only you were accustomed to.

“Missed you more.”

You felt the vibrations of her light chuckle against your head, subconsciously tightening your arms around her in response. She pulled away anyway, moving to cup your face with her hands, leaning her forehead against yours. 

And for a few minutes, the two of you just stood like that. Paige takes in every detail of your face; your freckles, the slight bags under your eyes accompanied by the growing dark circles, the dimmed spark in your eyes, the lines on your forehead, the soft pink tint to your cheeks.

“So, what’s going on?”

Your eyes widened almost comically, only pulling away slightly to look her in the face, “What? Nothing wrong, what do you mean?”

You knew she saw right through your defensive demeanor, moving her hands down to yours, encircling your wrists, and rubbing small circles on the insides of them. She raised an eyebrow, her lips slightly downturned at your deflection, “I know you well enough to know that something is bothering you, y/n/n.”

The groan you let out echoed through your dorm, “I hate how well you know me.”

Paige smirked as she watched you bite your lip somewhat anxiously, intertwining her fingers with yours and bringing the other hand up to tilt your chin to look at her, “And I love how well I know you.” She cocked her head to the side slightly, looking you up and down before speaking again, “C’mon, spill it, ma.”

Once again, hesitancy cluttered your mind, stopping you from speaking. Maybe you should keep your thoughts to yourself, you have always been one to overshare and that includes your overthinking abilities. This could all just be a simple misunderstanding and you could be reading too much into it and- 

“Baby, talk to me. Please.” Paige’s slight pleading voice broke your trance, and you stared at her, looking into her eyes that shone with worry and protectiveness.

“It’s just friend drama… I guess.” You muttered, trying to take the simple route out of this conversation. But you should’ve known better when your girlfriend’s hand dropped to your waist to pull you closer.

Her frown grew at the short phrase, trying to get more out of you, “You sure that’s it?”

You sighed, fully prepared to know that this was going to be a much longer conversation than you had hoped for. You rested your forehead against her chest, closing your eyes as her hand came up to tangle in your head, scratching at your scalp as you spoke, “Technically I wasn’t lying, it is friend drama.”

“Must be more serious friend drama than what I’m used to hearing about, I take it?” Her chin rested on your head, continuing her previous actions. 

“Involves me.”

She hummed quietly, “I assumed that, ma. What happened?”

“Remember Fiona, the transfer student?”

You felt her nod, taking the motion as the cue to continue, “I introduced her to my friends and we were all having a good time and hanging out and whatnot. But recently, I just- I think she’s been ignoring me. I’m probably reading too much into this, it’s stupid. Forget I said anything.”

Thoughts of being a burden enveloped you, trying to back out of the conversation again. You always read too much into things, that’s what your parents had told you. Read too much into people’s actions and what they said, could never just settle on a simple meaning. 

“Don’t- don’t do that. Talk to me. I’m not going to judge you, I’m here for you, even if that means fighting your little realities you got going on up there.”

Her words earned a chuckle out of you, you could feel the tension in your shoulders ease and your mind became a little less overwhelmed. When you looked back up at her, she smiled at you, signaling for you to go on.

As you talked you could feel her grip on your hair tighten slightly when you would mention something particularly frustrating about the situation, or something that had upset you. You could feel the small circles Paige drew on your lower back with her thumb from when she had casually slipped her hand under your shirt to rest it there.

She listened intently to everything you said, keeping her fingers moving through your hair with the occasional head scratch. She didn’t speak, not until she was sure you were done talking and had exhausted yourself from the small rant you had gone on. 

You blinked slowly once you finished, letting out a small breath of relief, your brain felt less crowded and cluttered now, and all you could think about was cuddling up with Paige and letting her take care of you. 

With what little energy you had left, you looked up at her, catching her gaze immediately. You could see the way her face softened once her eyes locked on yours, giving you a soft smile, “How about we order some food and watch a movie?”

She always knew exactly what you needed, so you nodded, allowing her to lead you back to your bed as she handed you the grocery bag she had placed there earlier. When you opened the bag, you couldn’t help but grin at all of your favorite candy and your favorite drink she had in there. Looking over at her, you watched as she placed an order for what you could only assume was your guilty pleasure restaurant, her brow furrowed in concentration. 

You leaned over, kissing her cheek before settling into her side, navigating your TV to the streaming platform that had your favorite movie, missing the way her lips replicated your smile as she glanced at you. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The food was taking longer than you would like it to and you were all for letting it show, a pout on your face as you watched your favorite movie. And Paige, of course, was finding this amusing as always, laughing every time she would look over at you. 

“Baby stop pouting, it’ll be here soon.”

“Not soon enough.”

She rolled her eyes at your level of impatience, drawing you closer into her, arm wrapping around your waist to do so. She placed a kiss on the top of your head, she murmured, “You doing okay?”

“Better than before.” You replied, and it was the truth. While you weren’t completely back to your usual sarcastic self you were close to getting there and it was because of her and how she always seemed to know what you needed to feel better.

PB5 MASTERLIST ; WBB MASTERLIST

TAGLIST ; NAVIGATION

[pompompurin1028]

The Painter and the Sitter

Summary: Dazai once again agreed to be a sitter for a new painting of yours

Pairing: Dazai x Painter! Reader

Genre: Scenario, Hurt/Comfort-ish

Warnings: None

A/N: Inspired by an idea I had suddenly one night earlier this month. In between me getting this idea and me writing it, I had been reading some Virginia Woolf so I was kind of inspired. Also a reference to Dorian Gray is in this fic too because why not. This is entirely self-indulgent, wrote this on a whim because I felt like it, didn't really read it over to see if there are any errors :D

My Masterlist

Although sitting and posing for hours was a bit of a bore, Dazai never said no to your requests to paint him. He knows you enjoy having him as your sitter, whether you would admit it out loud or not for you had painted him more times than you can count.

He interested you, he can tell that much at least. Every time you paint his portrait, you seem to be trying to capture something… Something intangible perhaps, maybe even abstract. But Dazai knew it was not quite so simple. To someone more oblivious, it may seem as if you are trying to capture a certain idea, a theme to go with his portrait. But Dazai knew better. He knew you were trying to figure him out, to capture him on paper, to paint a portrait of him as closely as you could muster.

This knowledge should scare him, knowing that someone is trying to dig deep into his depths, his secrets, and potentially see the darkness that lies beneath his smiling mask. But at the same time, part of him enjoyed it.

It was perhaps not quite the idea of being known that enchanted him. No… if he had been focusing on that aspect, he was much more fearful about being with you. No, he was much more intrigued by your portrayal of him, he wanted to see the colours you chose, the style you selected and listen to you as you explained your thought process behind the artwork. Though you would never admit you were trying to study him, he knew, and perhaps you knew that he knew as well. And yet, you still attempted to continue your search and so, Dazai allowed it.

Your study of him did not come without a price of course. It is said that it is not the sitter who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself. So, to Dazai at least, the exchange is mutual--he allows you to attempt to dig into his depths, spending hours with you weekly, conversing with you, while you do the same, and reveal your thoughts on the world, your ideologies, your attitudes on life on the canvas you paint.

But Dazai knew it likely wasn't a fair exchange on your part and maybe one day, in the near future you will notice it too as you continue your search. He knew you were trying to paint a portrait of who he is… inside. But he knew the true answer. What you will eventually find, beneath all the layers you slowly draw apart is but an absence, a hollowness that most of the time Dazai feels can never be filled.

This was much unfair to your sincere self whose paintings were a site of vulnerability. He knows it well; you never did display your work publically, in fact Dazai hardly really knew what happened to the paintings after you finished painting them. But, despite whatever it meant to you, you still showed them to him, explained your thought processes to him, perhaps as a sign of gratitude for being your sitter, or maybe for something more. All he knew was, there was no suitable name for your relationship. Artist and muse perhaps? But no, he knew you saw him much more beyond a mere means for inspiration. Friends then? No, that was much too intimate and besides, Dazai did not simply call a person a friend easily. And to be lovers is beyond the question. But one thing was certain, there was a level of intimacy and vulnerability between the two of you, one with has yet no name. Maybe it is better to leave it nameless. This bond will not last long, at least that's what Dazai had thought. But he was much too selfish to let go of what little connection you have built. Though he knows he is only torturing himself since he knows you'll leave him eventually, once you've found the answers you're looking for, once you have found the true nature of the man you were so allured by.

As Dazai's focus was reined back to being the sitter for your portrait when you called his name. The newest portrait was finished, and as per usual, you chatted with excitement and great passion.

“This time I used a much different colour pallet than I usually do. You always request to be painted with dark colours but I thought some oranges and yellows suited you. I think it suits you much more-” You spoke eagerly, seeming very proud of your newest creation. Dazai doesn't think he's seen you this excited over one of your pieces so early on after finishing it and he couldn't stop the smile from creeping up to his face at the sight.

“Hmm, maybe you're right. I do look quite handsome in this colour pallet.” He replied smugly, staring at the painting. But if he were to be honest, he wasn't quite sure what to think of your artistic decision on this portrait. He wasn't sure how to feel seeing himself painted in such a light. It felt… unfamiliar, defamiliarizing even.

As he stares at the painting, Dazai wonders if he had misunderstood your intentions for painting him all along. Though he prides himself with being able to read others like a book, and to be able to assume what moves them most of the time, he is much like other humans--he can never access the interiority of other human beings, at best, he can infer and deduct. And the thought that he might have been mistaken for so long alarmed him.

But he took a deep breath. He knows you didn't have bad intentions, you never once showed any signs of malice. And he knew, despite everything, at least to some degree, he could trust you. But he didn't expect you of all people to throw him off guard. But with only the exteriority of people available to oneself to judge and guess, how much can we truly learn about other people? Perhaps such limitations are the manner of our seeing, and such are the conditions of our love.

Although walls and barriers still separated the two of you, for you had yet to fully understand him, and him you, Dazai felt your relationship had become if not a little bit more intimate. Perhaps within every conversation you two had, there were parts where you talked past each other, but you were still trying… trying to communicate, trying to connect. And maybe, for now, all of this is enough.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 27: Ghosted and Launched

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: All's fair in love and basketball, right....

Welcome to the chapter 27 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

Reader's POV

The aftermath of KK’s Instagram live was overwhelming. My notifications were flooded with DMs, tags, and edits from fans trying to piece together whether Paige and I were actually dating. Between that and the teasing from the team, I decided to take a break.

I logged off all my peesonal social media platforms, only leaving the uconn account up so I could do team posts and such. Paige wasn’t thrilled about it, but understood why.

“So, you’re just going to leave me out here to fend off the crazies alone?” she joked, sprawled out on my bed, hair still wet from her post practice shower.

“You’ll be fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re Paige Bueckers. You’ve survived worse.”

She laughed. “True. But still, I’ll miss seeing your name pop up in my DMs.”

“Text me like a normal person, P. Like be for real” I teased, throwing a pillow at her. She caught it with ease and tucking it up her arm before turing her head to speak to me. “Baby, I'm the most normal person you'll ever meet.”

Paige’s POV

While Y/N went ghost, I became more active on social media, well more than I already was. It wasn’t on purpose at first, but then KK, started teasing me about it.

“Paige is soft-launching her relationship like she’s in a rom-com,” she said during one of her many Instagram lives.

Aubrey and Ice giving a knowing look to each other before bursting out in a laugh in all the way from the kitchen.

“Am not!” I argued, though I knew she was right.

It started with a blurry picture of Y/N’s camera sitting on the coffee table, captioned, "She’s been busy 💕."

Then there was the photo of her hand holding a bowl of popcorn during movie night, the caption reading, "Movie nights hit different with the right company."

The comments were wild.

@uconngossip: “WHO IS IT, PAIGE?!”

@teamhuskyforever: “The hand looks like Y/N’s 👀.”

@paigebucketsfan: “Nah, it’s gotta be Azzi. They hang out all the time.”

KK wasn’t helping. Every time she went live, she found a way to tease Y/N and me.

“Y’all want to know who Paige is soft-launching?” she’d say, zooming in on me.

“Ignore her,” I’d groan, covering my face.

One time, Ice “accidentally” shoved Y/N onto my lap during a live. I turned bright red as the comments exploded.

@paigebucketsfan: “CONFIRMED!!!”

@courtqueens: “This is the content we deserve.”

@icebradyysmuse: OK, but Aubs, and Ice laughing in the back though....

@wbbwhore: it's Ice pushing her into Paige’s lap for me...

Reader’s POV

By the time movie night rolled around, I was over the speculation. Paige and I had been talking about going public, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready.

“I think it’s time,” Paige said, sitting beside me on the couch.

“Time for what?” I asked, though I already knew.

“To post. For real this time.”

I hesitated, biting my lip. “You think people will be cool about it?”

“Most will,” she said, taking my hand. “And the ones who aren’t? We’ll deal with them together.”

I smiled, squeezing her hand. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Paige’s POV

We agreed to post at the same time. I picked a picture of her from the first I was with her back in Georgia, but she chose a picture of me asleep in her bed after the family BBQ.

Her caption:"double or nothing, Superstar 🏀💕"

Mine: "All's fair in love and basketball, photographer extraordinaire 📸💕"

The comments came flooding in almost immediately.

@ice.bradyy: great now KK can shutttt up

@kamoreaarnold: girl boo @ice.bradyy

@uconngossip: “KK WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG.”

@teamhuskyforever: “Granny really started this whole thing.”

@paigebucketsfan: “We love to see it! Y/N and Paige = endgame.”

@ballerjade_23: Not the Love and Basketball quotes @yourusername

@yourusername: @ballerjade_23 bestie, pookie it's really fitting if you asked me... now call so I can spill the teaaaa

Reader’s POV

The team was thrilled when they saw our posts. KK, of course, was the loudest.

“FINALLY!” she shouted, throwing her arms around both of us. “Y’all had me carrying this secret for too long.”

“Secret?” Aubrey teased. “You’ve been dropping hints every chance you got.”

Paige laughed, wrapping an arm around my waist. “She’s not wrong.”

Paige’s POV

The next day, during the post-game press conference, the inevitable question came up.

“Paige, your Instagram post last night caused quite a stir. Can you confirm your relationship status?”

I smiled, glancing at the reporter. “Yeah, I can confirm. Y/N and I are dating, and I’m really lucky to have her in my life.”

Reader’s POV

That night, I called Granny to thank her—for the unintended push and for always believing in me.

“You’re welcome, baby,” she said, her voice warm. “But don’t thank me too much. KK’s the one who really made it happen.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I know, she won'tlet us live it down.”

Granny chuckled. “Oh, dear she reminds me of my dearest friend Avión, Kk...she's good people keep her in your life.”

Before I could react, KK’s voice came through the dorm as she walking in the room.

“Nanna! Let me tell you about all the chaos you missed while she was ghosting you nanna!”

I groaned, but I couldn’t help smiling. Life with this team—and with Paige—was never boring.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 , @0phantom0 , @starlighttsv , @authentic-girl03 , @sevyscoven .... (more to be added... if you wanna be added to the list comment )

[thanosscross]

All for show 2/? - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x reader

Summary: After growing bored at home, you finally decide to sneak off and surprise Seung Hyun for his birthday, only to get a surprise of your own.

Warnings: None lovelies! <33

Not having any more shows, it was starting to drive you nuts, especially with your manager adding another three months to your break, like you were a child in timeout. You were basically stuck at home, doing over the phone interviews and photoshoots for brand deals. You spent most of time at home, either writing new songs, or finding stupid silly things to send a picture of to Seung Hyun. You both had started a little habit, anytime Seung Hyun saw something beautiful or captivating, he'd send you a picture, and you'd always find the weirdest funniest things to send him pictures of.

You had been trying harder to learn more Korean, thankful for your new friend for always helping you whenever you needed, Seung Hyun was always happy to help you, it charmed and flustered him that you were willing to make that big of an effort just to be able to speak with him more clearly. You were slowly getting better with it, still having hiccups and issues every now and then, but you always ended up getting it in the end. The boys knew, they needed to keep your and Seung Hyun's friendship under wraps, knowing your style of music and dancing wasn't exactly the thing, YG would want to see associating with his boys, not right now at least. You weren't concerned about it though, mainly just focused on Seung Hyun, his friends whenever they'd pop into the room during your calls, and your music, if your manager wouldn't let you perform, you were at least going to make sure your fans were getting new music while they waited.

Seung Hyun on the other hand, was being tossed from tour shows, to interviews, to variety shows, and rehearsals. Despite all of his running around, he'd still always find time to speak with you, you just seemed to make him feel better about his stress. As he plopped onto the recording studio's couch, Seung Hyun tapped your contact, pressing the small 'facetime' button by your name. "Aein! What are you doing!?" He laughed loudly, as soon as the call was answered, Seung Hyun was met with you sitting on top of one of the doors in your house. You were grateful for your overly tall ceiling, allowing you to always sit on the doors or just climb around on the awkward architecture parts of your home. "나는 스파이더맨이야! (I'm spiderman)!" You shouted, proud of yourself for repeating the phrase you had spent the last three hours trying to learn, Seung Hyun couldn't contain his laughter "Aein, Please! You're going to fall!" He pleaded, trying his best to get you to get down, not wanting to see you fall and hurt yourself. "I'm okay! See, like thirty pillows under me!" You giggled, turning your phone to show him the mountain of pillows and blankets sitting on the floor, beneath you. "You're so silly" He chuckled, turning his phone towards Ji-Yong who sat not far away from him "Is that where Americans sit in their free time?" He joked playfully, watching as you stuck your tongue out "For me? Yes" You replied before leaning your chin on the top of the door as you watched Seung Hyun appear back into the camera's frame.

"How's your day been, Aein?" He asked softly, resting an arm underneath his head as he watched you drop your phone down, before climbing down off of the door, ready to show him your latest creation of music. "아주 좋아, 새로운 노래를 만들었어 (Very good, I made a new song)" You smiled softly, making your way into the in-home studio you had built for the exact reason of Christopher being a dick. "Your Korean is getting really good! Are you learning from another person?" He teased, smiling as you blushed hiding your face for a moment "No, I just have a lot of free time, and I enjoy talking with you" You smiled, sitting down in your office chair as you set your phone up on your desk, trying to find the file on your computer. "So, I have a music video idea for it, but I was wondering...if you boys were free, and able to, if you would want to come help shoot for it?" You smiled softly, picking at your night pants nervously, you hadn't asked anything like this before, usually you left it all to Chris, but you really wanted the boys there, specifically Seung Hyun. "I'll talk to YG, see if we can't make it happen" He smiled softly, watching as you jumped up excitedly, squealing and doing a lap around your recording studio as you cheered "They haven't said yes yet!" He laughed, you just sat back down in your chair giggling "Yes but you said you would talk to them!" You smiled, pulling your knees to your chest as you took in every feature of Seung Hyun's before he had to end the call. "당신은 아름답습니다, 나의 뮤즈 (You're beautiful, my muse)" He muttered, smacking Ji-Yong and Dae-Sung's legs as they made playful kissing noises next to him. "No! You can't say that!! I worked for almost two hours to learn how to call you my muse!" You shouted laughing, jumping up into your chair, covering your face, of course he would pull that line before you could. "Aww, I'm your muse?" He smiled, holding a hand over his heart as he watched you "Yes, you are, is that a problem?" You giggled, picking up your phone as you finally found the audio clip from your last recording session "Nope, no problem" Seung Hyun replied smiling, hoping you wouldn't notice the blush on his cheeks "So! This song is..very different, and I want the boys around you to hear too! You guys have listened to my music before, so, I tried making a song that I liked making, not Christopher basically writing it for me, and I haven't had time to edit everything, so the music hasn't been added" You explained nervously, setting your phone down to face the computer screen as you hit play, you paced nervously behind your phone as your voice started to play through the speakers.

Whenever the recording finished, you squealed pausing it as the recording of you playing around in the recording booth started to play "Wait! Wait! That was my song!" Seung Hyun laughed, recognizing his lyrics for one of his singles, you just shushed him loudly, sliding into the floor as you snatched your phone from the desk "No it wasn't, you're hearing things" You protested, giggling as he just gave you a questioning look, you just sighed smiling "it's fun to do that" You admitted shyly, watching as he just chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. "I like that song, it was pretty" Seung Hyun replied softly, smiling whenever you jumped in your spot slightly in excitement "Really? You really liked it?" You gasped excitedly, moving from the floor over to your desk again, smiling brightly. "I did, you sound beautiful, and the song itself is beautiful" He smiled softly, glancing over as Tae-Yang stepped out of the recording booth, pointing towards Seung Hyun, letting him know he was next to record. "Thank you, It means a lot, especially coming from you" You smiled softly, a bright blush covering your cheeks as he gave you the usual sweet smile, he would anytime you'd say something sweet or endearing to him. "녹음을 해야 해서 곧 집에 돌아가면 전화할게, 알겠지 아름다워? (I have to record, so I'll call you when I get home soon, okay Beautiful?)" Seung Hyun replied sadly, watching as your face fell "Fine, I guess I'll let you off of the phone.." You whispered playfully, giggling loudly whenever Seung Hyun playfully poked his bottom lip out in a pout "I'm sorry, Aein, but I must go, I'll talk to you in a little bit, byee~" He smiled softly, you just smiled sweetly "당신을 사랑해요, 여보, byee~ (I love you, honey)" You replied quickly before ending the call, squealing loudly as you processed what you said. You had both been steady friends for a few months now, talking almost every day, along with falling asleep on the phone together, while you flirted and teased each other, neither of you went as far as saying 'I love you' until now.

Seung Hyun would be taken by surprise by your statement, he felt giddy at your words, smiling brightly as he made his way into the recording booth to do his verses. Taking notice to his friend's smiley, giddy state, Ji-Yong raised his phone, recording a quick video before sending it to you with the caption 'What in the world did you do to our boy?'

You'd giggle loudly whenever you'd watch over the video that Ji-Yong sent you, replying back as you smiled brightly 'I did nothing, other than learn Korean :)' You'd turn to focus on your next plan, a secret plan, that nobody knew, other than your assistant, You were flying to South Korea, planning on surprising Seung Hyun for his birthday next month. Thankfully, Dae-Sung was happy to help you, and happy to keep a secret for you, making your plan go through so much smoother. Whenever the day would come to fly out, you'd keep your head down, not wanting to be spotted by paparazzi, they'd immediately snitch you out to your manager and then your plan would go down in flames.

You had been working so hard as you boarded the private plane, convincing Seung Hyun that you had forgotten his birthday entirely, before going on a 'mental reset retreat' for the day. It broke your heart seeing how disappointed he looked that he wouldn't hear from you anymore until tomorrow, but you knew it'd be worth it whenever you got to see him in person again. As your plane landed, and you made it through security and everything else necessary to enter the country, you were immediately greeted by Dae-Sung and his security. "Y/n!! I've missed you!" He squealed, hugging you tightly as he smiled, grabbing your bags quickly from you as he smiled "Ready to go see Seung Hyun? He's got no clue, he's actually been listening to your music since you got on your flight, I think he's hating the not talking to you" He giggled softly, motioning towards the doors where a car sat outside waiting for you all "나도 너를 그리웠어! 정말 준비됐어, 승현이랑 보내는 시간이 그리웠어. (I missed you too! I'm really ready, I missed spending time with Seung Hyun)" You replied, relaxing a bit now that you were finally on the ground and not thousands of feet in the air. "당신의 한국어가 정말 잘 하시네요, 빨리 배우시는 것 같아요. (Your Korean is really good, I think you're learning it quickly.)" Dae-Sung smiled, holding the door to the car open for you, before climbing in behind you, you sat nervously as the car slowly approached a rather larger home, entering the gate before it came to a complete stop "Holy shit" You whispered, following Dae-Sung as he stepped out of the car "Just stay behind me, He's got a fancy doorbell, so he might check it and see you" He explained smiling, you just nodded excitedly, holding onto his arm as he walked up to the front door, ringing the bell before placing his hand over the camera of the doorbell "Seung Hyunnn!~ It's Dae-Sung!" He called through the door, not wanting to freak his friend out by the lack of view in his camera on the doorbell. As Dae-Sung heard the locks start to undo, he was quick to step back smiling at you "You have to come see us before you leave, have fun! Don't break our Hyung!" Dae-Sung teased before rushing to hide in the car, excitedly watching as Seung Hyun opened the door.

"Aein! What in the world are you doing here!?" Seung Hyun gasped, pulling you into a tight hug, smiling brightly as you hugged back "I wanted to surprise you for your birthday! Did you really think I forgot!?" You giggled, nudging his shoulder slightly as you pulled away softly "Honestly?..A little bit" He smiled, before stepping back opening the door wider to let you in "I would never! You're my best friend, Seung Hyun, of course I'm going to remember your birthday" You smiled, looking around, marveling at how beautiful his home looked in person. "I just- You're here!" He laughed excitedly, hugging you again causing you to giggle loudly "I am! For a whole two weeks!" You smiled, he just hugged you tighter, too excited to do anything else at the moment. You just hugged him back the entire time, feeling your heart swell, not having that many friends or family, you never really had anybody that was ever excited to see you, yes you had fans, but nobody in your personal circle. So Seung Hyun being over the moon excited, made you feel truly loved and wanted, especially whenever Seung Hyun treated you the way he has.

Whenever Seung Hyun finally stopped hugging you, you both sat down on the sofa, smiling as you went through your bag, trying to find the envelope you had managed to keep track of for the last three weeks. You had taken forever with writing it, wanting to make sure you could write it in Korean before you gave it to him. "생일 축하해, 내 사랑 (Happy birthday, my love)" You whispered with a soft smile, Seung Hyun just laughed loudly as you handed him the letter, holding a finger up as he rushed to his bedroom, coming back out with a similar envelope "I swear! We have the same amazing ideas!" You giggled, covering your face as Seung Hyun handed you the letter he had written for you. "Okay, Read them at the same time? Or..?" Seung Hyun smiled softly, you thought for a moment, before moving over to the other side of the living room "Okay, now read it" You giggled opening the folded piece of paper, smiling softly at Seung Hyun's neat but also messy handwriting, it was always cute to you.

'Y/n,

Meeting you was something I never thought I would do, and yet, you walked into my life, and have taken over every thought I've had since then. You're so amazingly sweet and caring, you always know just the thing to make everybody laugh. Your personality is the most beautiful thing I've ever had the honor of experiencing; you've lightened up every dark part of my life, and I can't thank you enough. I've never felt like I was meant to be happy, or like I deserved that much time or effort from people, but just in a handful of months, you've learned a whole new language just to have deeper conversations with me, and that means everything to me and more, sweetheart. you spent almost an entire day making sure you could say 'I love you' perfectly in Korean, for me. You're absolutely breathtaking at every moment of everyday, always stunning me and leaving me speechless, anytime I see you. I've never told you, my love, but you are the most amazing woman I've ever met, the amount of love and care you have for the people you meet, is something that amazes me everyday. Your voice and laugh make my day absolutely amazing, even on my worst ones, and I find myself missing the sound of them almost every day that you're gone and busy. I also find myself falling in love with you, every time I have the honor of speaking with you, Y/n, and I don't know how much longer I can keep it a secret, I want to tell everybody I know and meet how amazing you are. How absolutely thoughtful and selfless you are, and how amazing you make me feel. I love you, Y/n, every single thing about you, I promised that you'd be loved and accepted for yourself before I left to come back home, and little did I know, I'd be the one to fall in love with you.

Yours truly, with all of my love,

Choi Seung Hyun

'Seung Hyun,

I'm not sure how to thank you for everything, you're my saving grace, you found me in a really dark part in life, where I was debating on giving up music as a whole. I was giving up on trying to show the world who I was really was, until you came around. I've always fought my entire life for people to see me as anything other than a 'sexy body' and I didn't even need to try with you, you saw through everything, and I never had anybody do that. Nobody's taken the time to want to talk with me unless it had something in favor of them..but you always seem so excited and happy to talk with me, and the most we've done was flirt together. Seung Hyun, even if you fight me every time I try to tell you, you are a good, amazing, handsome, work of art of a man. You've been through a lot from the stories you've told me, and the fact you're still just as amazing as you are, makes me so proud to call you my best friend. In just the months I've known you, you've changed my life and mind for the better, you've single-handedly showed me I'm so much more than just a voice and body. I used to hate myself, a lot, everybody around me always putting it in my head that I'm stupid, or useless for anything other than performing, that if I don't dress a certain way, I'll be hated; You've changed that though, you helped me see that I'm capable of so much more than people say, that I can be loved and beautiful just the same in either a performance outfit, or my sweatpants and hoodie. You helped me start to love myself again, and it's started making me fall in love with you as well, everything about you makes my life feel so much lighter and happier, like nothing stressful or scary can ever get me whenever I'm around you, I feel safe, loved, and seen, and I have fallen so far in love with you for that, Seung Hyun.

Your favorite American <3

Y/n

As you both finished reading your letters, your gaze met Seung Hyun's, trying your best not to let the sob slip from your lips as you noticed the tears going down his cheeks. "Aein?.." He whispered, wiping the tears on his face the best he could, as he moved to kneel in front of you. You just let yourself cry, wrapping your arms around him tightly as you leaned down, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he tried his best to not cry again from the sounds of your sobs. "You deserve to be happy, My love" You whimpered, clenching the back of his shirt in your fists tightly, trying to calm your breathing as you spoke again "I-I love you, you're so, so sweet to me" You added on, squeezing him tightly before he pulled away, gently wiping the tears from your face "I love you, Aein, but please don't cry" He whispered softly, cupping your cheek as you sniffled slightly "I-I can't help it, y-your letter was really sweet" You whimpered, leaning into his touch as you managed to stop crying after a moment "Thank you...I wrote it the night you said 당신을 사랑해요, 여보 (I love you, honey)" He whispered, caressing your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb, you just blushed softly, hiding your face in your hands as he stood up, moving to sit next to you. "I'm glad I wasn't the only one then, because I wrote that whenever I was learning how to say it" You admitted giggling sheepishly, resting your head on his shoulder as you interlaced your fingers with his. "I meant what I wrote, Y/n..I'm in love with you" He whispered softly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead "I know...나도 당신과 사랑에 빠졌어요. (I'm in love with you, too)" You whispered, looking up to meet his gaze smiling softly, blushing whenever you felt his lips connect with yours, Seung Hyun couldn't help it, he wasn't going to lie, whenever you spoke in Korean to him, it made him proud, you had learned that, for him, plus it was pretty hot. As he moved his lips against yours, he couldn't help but smile, slowly pulling away to meet your gaze "You're so amazing" You whispered, panting softly as you tried to catch your breath, Seung Hyun chuckling as he pulled you close to him before leaning back, causing you to fall, laying on his chest. You both laid in silence for a bit, just enjoying the feeling of being around each other again, before you giggled softly "Hey, Seung Hyun?.." You giggled out, smiling as he glanced down at you, through the strands of his hair that had fallen in his face "Hmm?" He hummed softly, running his fingers up and down your back as he waited for a response "Happy birthday..." You whispered, smiling as he chuckled softly "Thank you, Aein, one of the best birthdays I've ever had" He replied, his voice slightly deeper as he started to feel himself growing tired, you just smiled, laying head on his chest again as you rested your hand on the side of his neck, yawning. "I'm happy then" You whispered, taking a deep breath as you felt yourself starting to doze, letting yourself be overtaken by sleep as you held onto Seung Hyun tightly, not wanting to risk this all being a dream.

--

What do you think, lovelies?! Let me know what you think!! As always, I'm so excited to hear back from you all!! <333

Also! If I got any translations wrong, please let me know! I'm very rusty with Korean, but I am trying to learn! <33

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Taglist!!

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@c1delight

[nownahc]

31/32 with Seungmin from skz. I’m thinking he does something embarrassing in front of reader, maybe trying to impress them? I imagine him being so shy when trying to flirt for some reason!

idiot | kim seungmin

seungmin x reader

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prompts list send in an ask to request

▶• ılıılıılılıılıılı. mr. angel by tommy newport

notes. i saw a post about someone booking a hotel room in another country and couldn't think of something else

warnings. none

prompts. “You weren’t supposed to laugh!”/“This is, by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“This is by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

A few hours prior.

Seungmin was a wreck, opening closing the same application on his phone every few seconds, he sat on your couch waiting for you to come out of your room. After weeks of tucking his tail between his legs, and pushing the date of asking you out, this was finally it… or so he thought. The thing was, you didn’t know it was a date, in his defense, he had really thought that his demand of going out with you, just you two, was clear enough. Apparently, in between his blabbering and messy line delivery, you had mistaken this as a simple friendly hangout. Friendly. That word sent chills down his spine. How had you not realize that none of his feelings for you were just friendly? Sure, he was aloof most of the times, hell some might even think he despises your guts but, it was Seungmin and, anyone who was close to him, knew how his brain worked. He teases what he likes, bothers what he loves, and apparently, he’s also a huge mess when it comes to asking people out.

At least, where the first steps of this new adventure were far from perfect, he knew he had dealt with the entire organisation side of the final product flawlessly. He had managed, calls after a calls, to book you two a table at a nice restaurant that kept popping up online, with only praises and good reviews, nothing too expensive but the food was apparently excellent. Afterwards, he had planned two tickets for this new film you had been talking his ears off about. Really, everything was perfect, so perfect, he hoped you might realize that one doesn’t usually put this much effort in a simple friendly hangout.

Finally, you come out of your room, dressed casually, but by all hell, you could sport a patchwork of ugly cloths and he’d still be in awe of you. He tries to play it cool, nonchalant even as he guides you out of your place, leading you through the streets. Whereas you were relaxed and behaving as usual with him, his eyes kept glancing at his phone to make sure he took the right route to the restaurant… something was up though. It has now been 20 minutes that you’ve been walking, and you swore you passed by the same store twice already. You tried to ask him if it was the right way, but, poor Seungmin all nerves and anxiety kept affirming that he knew what he was doing when quite frankly, he didn’t know shit about why they hadn’t reached the restaurant yet.

At some point though, reason come back to him and he sits on a bench with you, desperately fidgeting with his phone to understand what the deal was. He doesn’t notice when you pull out your own phone out to type in the name of the restaurant. He does notice though when you bark out a short laugh.

“This is by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

He blinks twice as he looks at your side profile and he wishes that there wasn’t another stupid thing he had done, but it was useless now as you show him the screen of your phone, pointing to the address. Japan. He had booked a table for a restaurant, in Japan. Was the world against him this much or was he just plain stupid?

“What?” You can’t help but stiffle your laughter as Seungmin’s reaction adds in to the nonsense of the situation. “You weren’t supposed to laugh!” Seungmin is almost offended by your reaction as he furiously refresh the restaurant page, as if by magic the country would change. “And we were supposed to be in a restaurant right now, we don’t always get what we want.” This was perhaps, far more entertaining then if you had actually been in that restaurant. To see Seungmin like this, helpless and dumbfounded was funny in a way. “I swear, I checked a thousand times…” “Maybe you should have checked a thousand time and one more then.” He glares at you then, knowing you were just taking the situation lightly, as you should, it wasn’t even that big of deal but, he really hated himself for messing up everything from beginning to end.

Leaning back on the bench, he checks the tickets for the cinema too, if he had made a mistake for the restaurant reservation, he hopes he hadn’t made one for the movie theatre. What he sees on his screen is something he’ll never tell you. He had booked the film alright, simply, it was for the day before. Luckily his embarrassed tinted cheeks go unnoticed by you in the night as you turn to him, that damn smile still on your face. “So… What had you planned next then?” “Nothing… I planned nothing.” Seems like this dream date of his, have to be postponned.

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[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

The Stranger That Knows Me Best is a heartfelt story about connection, vulnerability, and taking chances on the unexpected. Through letters and shared experiences, two introverts discover that sometimes, the person who understands you best is the one you’ve never met.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: none really, mostly fluff and some angst

Masterlist

The first letter arrives on a Monday, stuck between a credit card offer and a pizza coupon. You stare at the plain envelope for a moment, debating whether to open it right away or let it sit on top of the unopened pile stacked up on the kitchen table. Honestly, you wouldn’t even be holding it if Wanda hadn’t forced you to sign up for this pen pal thing.

“It’ll be fun!” she exclaimed as she leaned dramatically across your desk while you tried to study. “You need to talk to someone who’s not me for a change. And how exciting to meet someone across the country!”

You rolled your eyes at her and muttered something about spam emails and book characters being more your speed. But she was insistent. “Imagine it. Getting to know someone without all the noise of social media. Just words. Just paper. It’ll be good for you.”

Now, standing in the kitchen, envelope in hand, you weren’t sure if she’d done you a favor or set you up for the most awkward exchange of your life. The return address displays Brooklyn, New York, in handwriting so neat it almost looks printed.

On the other side of the country, Bucky sits at a worn, small kitchen table in his tiny Brooklyn apartment, mouth turned down at the envelope in his hands. His roommate and best friend, Sam, somehow roped him into this, using every trick in the book to sign him up.

“You’re too serious all the time,” Sam teased. “You need to lighten up, meet new people or at least, like, write to one person.”

“I meet people,” Bucky muttered, already regretting the argument.

Sam laughed. “Right. The way you avoid everyone at parties? Sure, bud.”

And now here he is, a couple of weeks later, holding a letter from some stranger in Oregon and wondering if Sam had a point. Bucky has never been good at opening up, not even with people he knew. The idea of putting his thoughts down on paper for some stranger to read made him uneasy. But at the same time there was a comfort in only writing–no faces, no judgments, just words.

The truth is, Bucky doesn’t have a clue what to say or where to start. He agreed to this so Sam would get off his back about meeting new people. Bucky is tired of the monotonous routine of the same frat parties every week. How is he supposed to get to know someone through blasting music and dozens of beers? He’s never been a fan of crowds or casual conversations. 

Maybe that’s why he’d said yes when Sam showed him the ‘Around The World’ pen pal website. To meet someone genuinely and in the most organic way his social anxiety will let him. 

You sit down at your kitchen table, coffee growing cold as you carefully peel open the envelope. The paper inside is simple, lined like the kind from a spiral notebook. Nothing fancy, just a letter. The words on the page surprisingly feel honest. 

Hey, I’m not sure how to start this. I guess an introduction is a good place? My name’s Bucky. Well, technically, it’s James, but no one calls me that. I signed up for this because a friend of mine said I should give it a shot. I don’t know if I’m good at writing letters, but I figure it can’t hurt to try. So, uh… hi.

Somehow Bucky’s awkward words bring a faint smile to your lips which makes you feel a little less self-conscious about your first letter.

Meanwhile, Bucky unfolds his letter in the quiet of his apartment, reading the loopy handwriting of his mystery pen pal.

Hi, I guess this is the part where I tell you about myself? My name’s Y/N, and I live in Oregon. Honestly, I signed up for this because my best friend wouldn’t let it go. She thought it would be fun, and I figured… why not? So here I am. I’m not sure what else to say yet, but I’m looking forward to hearing from you.

He let out a soft huff of amusement, almost smiling. There’s something disarming about the tone, like you are just as uncertain about this as he is.

Neither of you expected much from those first letters, just a few introductory words sent across the miles. But as you sit at your table, thinking about what to write back, you start to feel something you haven’t felt in a long time: curiosity.

And across the country, Bucky feels the same.

Only a week later, the third letter arrives with something extra—a pressed flower, its petals delicate and pale blue. It slips out from the folded paper and lands softly in your lap.

I found this on a walk and thought it was too pretty to leave behind. Don’t ask me what kind it is, I’m terrible at flowers. But it made me think of something you might like.

You smile, gently picking up the flower and holding it up to the light. The sunlight streaming through your living room window turns the petals almost translucent. It feels strange, how something so small can carry so much meaning. In this moment, it wasn’t just a flower, it’s a glimpse into how Bucky sees beauty in the world. 

You tuck the flower carefully into the pages of your journal, pressing it between the lines of a half-finished poem you have been struggling to complete. Somehow, it seems to fit perfectly there, like it has been waiting for you to give it a new story.

You pick up a new blank page, finding yourself writing more freely than you had before. You practically spill out everything you’re thinking at the moment. You tell him about the books piled on your desk, the way your apartment smells like coffee and your favorite hazelnut candle, how the flower petal reminds you of a poem you read recently for class. You include a few lines of said poem on a piece of homemade paper you created a few days ago (a skill you learned from a YouTube video), a small gift in return for his. 

Evening light slants through Bucky’s half closed bedroom window as he opens your next letter. 

A muted tone bookmark slips out first. 

I thought you might need this for all your textbooks. Kinesiology sounds intense, so hopefully this will help keep your place when you’re too tired to keep going.

He turns the bookmark over in his hands, studying the intricate design—a swirl of blues and greens, almost like a wave frozen mid-motion. It’s sturdy, practical, and yet oddly personal in a way that catches him off guard. In both of your previous letters, you learned about each other's majors.

Bucky is studying Kinesiology and you, creative writing and English literature. 

He glances at his own textbooks scattered across his desk, a half-empty mug of tea sitting close to the edge. The long nights spent studying, the endless diagrams of muscles and tendons, the impending need to study for an upcoming test overwhelming his mind. 

He doesn’t say it out loud, but it feels nice to be thought of.

Bucky pulls out the old cigar box he keeps on his bookshelf, the one where he stashes little things that matter—ticket stubs, Polaroids, a dried four-leaf clover. Carefully, he places the bookmark inside, alongside the growing pile of letters.

Later, as he writes his reply, he mentions how the bookmark reminds him of summers at the beach when he was a kid. 

My mom used to drag me and my sister there every weekend. I pretended to hate it, but I think I loved it more than I let on. The waves were calming, you know? Kind of like the way your letter felt. Thanks for that.

He hesitates for a moment before folding the letter, then slips a small photo inside, an old snapshot of his hometown beach at sunset. He doesn’t remember exactly when he took it, but it felt like the right thing to share.

As he seals the envelope, his smile grows. A private gesture that no one else besides Sam usually sees. For the first time in a long time, the act of sharing doesn’t feel so hard.

Did you ever climb trees as a kid? There was this big oak in my backyard growing up. I used to climb all the way to the top, even though my mom always yelled at me for it. There was this one branch that stuck out just right, and I’d sit there for hours. It was the one place I felt like I could breathe.

When you read his words, something clicks in your memory. The reminder of your grandmother’s magnolia tree comes flooding back. Its branches were low and sturdy, perfect for climbing, and the flowers always smelled faintly sweet, even when they were just starting to bloom. That tree had been your secret world, a place where you could escape everything else and just… be.

You respond, telling about your afternoons of sitting in the tree with a journal, scribbling drawings and stories no one else has ever seen. 

It was the first place I felt like I could dream. Funny how trees do that for you too, huh?

Bucky leans back on his couch as he reads about your memory. He hasn’t thought about that tree in years, not since it was cut down after a bad storm. He closes his eyes and tries to remember the texture of the rough bark under his fingers and how the world seemed so small from up there. 

That night, instead of going straight to bed, Bucky finds himself sitting by the window, staring out at the sparse trees lining the streets below. The city doesn’t have the same kind of quiet his backyard had back then, but his memory of that oak tree now feels like it was something he could reach out and touch.

Your conversations about trees continues. In your next letter, you mention how you used to take a backpack filled with snacks and book up into the magnolia tree, like you were setting off for some great adventure. You confess how you fell asleep up there one afternoon and scared your grandmother half to death when she couldn’t find you. 

Bucky’s laughter fills his bedroom as he reads that part, trying to put a face to you as he imagines that scene play out. 

I used to stash stuff up there too. Snacks, comics, even a pair of binoculars I borrowed from my grandpa. It felt like my own little hideout, you know? Like the world couldn’t touch me when I was up there.

As the letters went on, the conversations turned into something deeper. You start talking about the feeling of having a place to escape, a space where the world feels manageable. For Bucky, it used to be the oak tree and now the gym, where he can lose himself in the rhythm of movement and focus. For you, it’s always been words—books, notebooks, even napkins when nothing else was around.

Do you ever feel like you’re still climbing? Like you’re still looking for a branch high enough to sit on, where you can finally just… breathe?

Bucky stares at that question for a long time. 

Yeah. But sometimes I wonder if I’m looking in the wrong places. Maybe the branch isn’t what I need anymore. Maybe it’s just knowing there’s someone out there who gets it.

When you read those words it’s like the miles between you two has gotten a little smaller.

You must write a lot for your classes. Creative writing sounds… intimidating, honestly. I don’t think I could do it. I’m better with structure, you know? I like knowing how things work, how muscles move, how the body functions. It feels concrete, there’s always an answer.

You giggle at his admission. It’s not the first time you’ve heard that writing seems almost impossible to accomplish but to you, it’s almost the easiest but scariest thing in the world. 

Concrete sounds nice.  Writing feels like a brewing storm you can see from hundreds of miles away but as it creeps closer the weight of what to do next has you frozen on the spot. It’s easy in the sense of how subjective it is and everyone always has something to say. The scary part is being brave enough to expel your own thoughts or imagination for the world to have an opinion on.  But I can’t imagine kinesiology being any easier. Do you ever feel like you’re carrying too much? Like the weight of learning all this stuff about the human body just… piles up?

Bucky nods to himself as he reads, his pen pausing above the paper. He hasn’t told anyone, but sometimes, the pressure of being in his program is overwhelming—the constant exams, the endless memorization, the unshakable feeling that one mistake could mean letting someone down in the future.

Yeah, it gets heavy sometimes. But I think about what it’s all for, and it makes it easier to keep going. What about you? What keeps you writing?

When you read his question, you stop to think. What keeps you inspired? The answer seems obvious–it was just something that came naturally to you, from a young age. But the longer you sit and dive deeper into his question, the harder it is to really put it into words. 

Because I don’t know who I am without it.

You didn’t expect those words to carry a weight you didn’t know you have been holding. 

It’s not always easy, though. Writer’s block isn’t some fantastical word people use as an excuse. It’s brutal. Trying to put the right words in the right order drives me crazy most of the time. But even when it’s hard, it’s the only thing that makes me feel like… me, if that makes sense.

Bucky thinks about how he feels when he is at the gym, or working with the human anatomy models in class. He doesn’t always love the grind of school, but there’s something about the act of moving, of learning how things worked, that makes him feel like he is on solid ground. He taps his pen against the table, thinking before continuing his next letter.

That makes a lot of sense, actually. I don’t know if I feel the same way about kinesiology, but I get what you mean about needing something to hold on to. For me, it’s movement. It sounds weird, but when I’m working out or studying how the body works, I don’t feel as… stuck, I guess. Like I’m figuring out the puzzle one piece at a time. And yeah, sometimes the puzzle sucks, but I think that’s just part of it.

He hesitates before adding:

Do you ever feel like writing is your way of figuring yourself out? Like it’s not just about telling a story, but about finding pieces of yourself you didn’t even know were missing?

His question lingers in your mind for days. It isn’t something you’d ever admitted to yourself, let alone anyone else, but he’s right. Writing isn’t just about creating, it’s about uncovering. 

You write back:

All the time. It’s like every time I write something, I leave a little piece of myself on the page, but I also find something new. It’s terrifying sometimes, to feel so exposed, but I think that’s why I can’t stop. It’s the only way I know how to make sense of the world and myself. What about you? Does movement ever feel like that for you? Like it’s not just physical, but… more?

Bucky’s next letter was slower this time, but when it arrives, it’s longer than usual.

Yeah, I think it does. I never thought about it like that before, but now that you mention it, maybe that’s why I’ve always been drawn to it. When I’m moving—running, lifting, even just walking—it’s like the noise in my head quiets down. I don’t have to think about everything all at once. It’s just me and my body, and for a little while, that’s enough.

He pauses, then adds:

I think that’s why I want to help people. I want to give them that same feeling, like they’re not trapped in their bodies, but free because of them. Maybe that’s the piece of myself I’m trying to figure out.

With his next letter, Bucky includes a small, fraying string bracelet. It’s clearly worn from age, some threads are thinner than others, and a few have almost completely unraveled. 

I used to wear this all the time as a kid. It’s nothing special just something a friend gave me back when life was simpler. I don’t know why I’ve kept it all these years, but I figured maybe it’s time it meant something to someone else.

You hold the delicate bracelet, running your fingers over the worn strings. The softness of the fibers and each fray holding a story Bucky hasn’t shared yet. There’s a weight to it, not in size, but in meaning. The way he decided to pass it down to you. It makes you think of the small tokens you’ve saved over the years–notes from old friends, concert tickets, friendship bracelets–those scraps are pieces of who you are, fragments of a past you’ll never be ready to let go of. 

You didn’t want to just thank him for the token. It deserves more than that. 

You decide to package a worn, dog-eared paperback book, edges wrinkled from the years of being opened and reread. It’s one of many copies of Pride & Prejudice you have. The first book that made you fall in love with writing. You can remember all the late nights you spent highlighting lines, making notes in the margins. 

This was the first book that made me want to be a writer. It’s been sitting on my shelf for years, and I think it’s time someone else enjoys it. Maybe it’ll mean something to you too.

You hesitate for a moment, a knot swirling in your stomach. It was something small, seemingly insignificant but also personal. The book was more than a vintage piece of writing. It’s a piece of your past, something that has shaped who you are. 

Bucky opens the package carefully, turning the book over in his hands. It looks like it’s been loved, its pages soft and curling at the corners. He can tell it’s been read over and over again.

He smiles genuinely. He’s never been a huge reader—always preferred the practicality of learning from textbooks or manuals—but this book makes him grateful to have a part of your world that you’re willing to share with him. 

Bucky flips to the first page, the ink of your handwriting spells out a note ‘I hope this means something to you’ 

With a sigh, Bucky carefully places the book beside his bed. He’ll start reading it soon, maybe later tonight. There’s something comforting about knowing that, through these letters and small tokens, you are building something real, something that isn’t defined by distance or time, but by the simple act of sharing.

I’ll start reading it tonight. I can’t promise I’ll be as into it as you are, but I think it already means something to me. That bracelet I sent you, it isn’t just a piece of string. It's a piece of me, one I wasn’t sure how to share until now. I don’t know why I’ve kept it all these years, but I’m glad you’re the one who has it now.

He folds the letter and slips it into the envelope, sealing it with the same quiet smile that has been creeping into his letters more often. 

Over the next few weeks, your letters became less about what you both do in a day and more about the things that have shaped you. Bucky told you about him joining his school's track team and local races all the kids in the neighborhood would have every summer. You told him stories about how you would write stories for your stuffed animals and act them out alone in your childhood room. 

With each letter, it’s become harder to imagine not knowing Bucky, who in so many ways, is still a stranger. But also the one person in the world you feel free enough to share parts of you that you can’t with the closest people you see daily. 

Your heart clenches at Bucky’s next admission:

It’s not that I don’t like people, but it’s like there’s this invisible wall between me and them. Like I’m always watching, but never quite part of it.

You couldn’t write that feeling any better. 

I guess I’ve always been more comfortable in other people’s worlds than my own. Books made sense when nothing else did. I could lose myself in them and forget everything else—even for just a little while.

One day, his letter comes with a sketch tucked between the pages. It’s rough, the kind of drawing someone might do absentmindedly, but it has this subtle energy to it. It’s a street corner in Brooklyn with buildings stacked close together, fire escapes twisting up their sides like veins.

You’d like Brooklyn. There’s something about it, almost restless but steady at the same time. The city’s always moving, but if you look close enough, there are these little pockets of stillness. I think you’d find it inspiring.

You could almost imagine it. The sounds of the city, how different the air might feel. You’ve never been to the east coast. Your finger traces over the sketch, admiring the little piece of Bucky’s city he offers you. 

That night, you feel inspired. You pull out an old journal and try to put words to his drawing. Imagining what Brooklyn must feel like, blending his description with your own ideas. You aren’t sure how cohesive your stream of thoughts are but you don’t take time to edit it. You rip the page out and fold in, slipping it in with your letter. 

When Bucky opens the envelope and finds your poem, he reads it twice, then a third time, trying to imagine his own city through your eyes. You make Brooklyn feel less gray and crowded. As he sits by his favorite coffee shop window, he draws another sketch of what’s in front of him, he even includes a sticker the shop sells. 

Your letters have become a map of sorts. A shared exploration of places neither of you have been to but can picture so vividly because of each other’s words. You print a picture of your favorite spot back home, a cliff overlooking the ocean where you’d sit for hours. 

Writing on the back of the photo: The kind of place that makes you feel small but full of light.

In his reply, Bucky describes a park in his neighborhood where he goes for runs when he needs to clear his head. 

There’s this one bench under an old sycamore tree. Sometimes I stop there and just sit for a while, watching people go by. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s quiet. Peaceful.

With every letter, the walls between you seem to shrink. And yet, there’s still so much you don’t know about each other, so many questions left unspoken, fears left unsaid. Would the connection you’d built survive outside the pages of these letters? Or was it something that only made sense in this space you’d created?

You’re sprawled across the couch in your shared apartment, a blanket draped over your legs as Wanda flips through a magazine on the other end. The soft glow of fairy lights makes the room feel cozy, even as the stack of textbooks and your half-drunk coffee mug on the table scream anything but relaxation.

“You’ve been smiling at that piece of paper for ten minutes,” Wanda says, not even looking up.

You glance down at the letter in your hands, catching yourself before you grin again. “No, I haven’t.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table. “You totally have. That’s a ‘someone special wrote me something adorable’ smile if I’ve ever seen one.”

“It’s not like that,” you mumble, though your cheeks are already heating up.

Wanda scoots closer, pulling the letter out of your hands before you can stop her. She scans it, her face softening as she reads. “‘You’d like Brooklyn. There’s something about it—restless but steady at the same time.’” She looks up, her expression a mix of curiosity and teasing. “Okay, first of all, swoon. Second, who is this guy, and why haven’t you told me everything about him yet?”

You groan, snatching the letter back and holding it to your chest. “He’s just my pen pal. You know, from that website you made me sign up for.”

“I strongly encouraged you,” Wanda says with a smirk. “And clearly, I was right. You like him.”

“It’s not like that,” you repeat, but even you don't seem to believe your words. “We just… get each other. Like, in a way no one else does. It’s hard to explain.”

Wanda grins, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Oh, it’s not hard at all. You’re totally falling for him.”

You roll your eyes but can’t deny it. Because maybe, she’s right.

Bucky’s sitting on the edge of his bed, the photograph of the cliffside you sent him in his hands. His thumb traces the edges of the picture absently, his eyes fixed on the jagged rocks and the expanse of sky above them. Sam sprawls in the armchair across the room, one foot lazily rests over the armrest. The faint sounds of the video he’s watching on his phone fills the room. 

“Is that the photo your pen pal sent you?” Sam asks, nodding toward it.

Bucky glances up, startled slightly. “Uh, yeah.”

Sam smirks. “You’ve been staring at it for, like, twenty minutes, man. What’s up with that?”

Bucky shrugs, setting it carefully on the nightstand. “She said it’s her favorite spot near where she grew up. Told me she used to sit there when she needed to clear her head. I don’t know—it’s just… personal, you know?”

“Yeah, it sounds like it,” Sam sits up a little. “So, what? You’re into her now?”

“She’s just my pen pal,” Bucky sounds unconvinced by himself. 

Sam laughs, leaning back again. “Don’t even try it. I know that look. It’s the same one you had when you started watching that baking show and tried to convince me it was just for the ‘techniques.’”

Bucky shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not like that,” he mutters. “She’s just… easy to talk to. Like, I don’t have to explain everything, you know? She just gets it.”

“Yeah, you sound totally detached,” Sam’s grin widens.

Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a pillow at him. “Shut up, man.”

But as he picks the photo up again, studying the way the sunlight played across the rocks and the faint edge of the ocean in the distance, he knows Sam isn’t entirely wrong.

The next morning, you’re sitting at your desk, chewing on the end of a pen as Wanda brushes her hair in the mirror.

“So, what’s his name?” she asks casually.

“Bucky,” you say before you realize. 

Wanda freezes mid-brush. “Bucky? That’s his real name?”

You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “Technically James but he prefers Bucky.” 

“Okay, first of all, iconic. Second of all, why aren’t you, like, booking a flight to meet him?”

You look at her shocked. “Because that’s not how this works.”

Wanda frowns, turning to face you. “That’s so stupid. What if he’s your soulmate or something?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not that deep.”

But later, as you reread his latest letter, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to meet in person. 

Meanwhile, Bucky is walking to class with Sam, the book tucked under his arm.

“So what’s her deal?” Sam asks.

“She’s a writer,” Bucky says. “Creative writing and English lit major.”

Sam whistles. “Damn. She sounds deep. You sure you can keep up?”

Bucky smirks. “Shut up. It’s not like that.”

But as he heads into class, flipping open the book to one of your underlined passages, he knows he’s not fooling anyone—not even himself.

I know this pen pal, letter sending thing is supposed to hold some kind of anonymity but sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to meet you. Don’t worry—I’m not suggesting anything crazy. It’s just… you’re such a big part of my life now, and it’s weird to think I wouldn’t even recognize you if I passed you on the street. I’d probably walk right by and never know.

Bucky pauses as he writes his next letter, staring at the words he’s written, debating whether to cross them out. Instead, he adds more

Have you ever thought about it? What would it be like if this wasn’t just on paper?

When you read his words, something inside you shifts. Of course you’ve thought about it too—what his voice sounds like, what kind of expression he wears when he writes to you.

Sometimes, I imagine what it’d be like to meet you too. It feels strange to think about, like breaking some kind of rule we’ve been following for three months. But if I’m honest, yeah, I’ve thought about it. More than once.

You hesitate, chewing on the end of your pen before adding:

What if we start small? Like a phone call? It’s not the same as meeting, but maybe hearing your voice wouldn’t feel so strange. What do you think?

Bucky sits with your letter in his hands, rereading your suggestion. A phone call. He’s thought about hearing your voice before, but seeing it written makes it real in a way he hadn’t expected.

A phone call sounds… terrifying, if I’m honest. But also kind of exciting? I mean, I want to hear what you sound like. I want to know if the way you talk matches the way you write. If you’re sure, let’s do it. Just don’t laugh if I sound awkward—I’m not great at this kind of thing.

You’ve never been good with phone calls. Honestly, you surprised yourself when you offered the suggestion to Bucky along with your phone number. But, knowing that Bucky feels similar, eases some of the nerves. 

When the time comes, you sit on your bed with your phone clutched in your hand, nerves fluttering in your stomach. You exchanged numbers in the last letter, but staring at his name in your contacts feels surreal. After a few deep breaths, you hit the call button.

“Hello?” His voice was quiet, a little hesitant.

“Hi,” you respond, smiling even though he can’t see it. “It’s me.”

Bucky let out a small laugh. “Hey. This is… weird, right?”

“Yeah, but in a good way.” 

There’s a moment of quiet, the kind that might feel awkward with anyone else, but with Bucky, it’s comfortable. Like the pauses in his letters, deliberate and thoughtful, holding space for meaning.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually call,” Bucky admits. “Not that I thought you wouldn’t. I just… I don’t know. It’s different hearing someone’s voice after reading their words for so long.”

“I know what you mean,” you reply, tucking your legs under you. “It feels like meeting you all over again, in a way.”

He hums in agreement, and you try to picture what he looks like by his voice. “So… what’s new?”

You laugh at the simplicity of the question, but it’s grounding in a way. “Not much. I’m still fighting my way through this writing project for class. I swear, my professor has a personal vendetta against me.”

“Or they just know you’re good at it and want to push you,” Bucky offers, his tone lighter now. “You ever think about that?”

You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

“What’s the project about?”

“Character studies,” you reply, leaning back against the pillows. “Creating these detailed backstories for characters we’ve made up. It’s harder than I thought it’d be.”

“I bet you’re great at it,” the sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you say softly, caught off guard by his compliment.

Bucky’s sitting on the edge of his bed, phone balanced against his ear, a faint smile tugging at his lips as you tell him story of the stay cat you see everyday on your way home from class. “So, what’s the cat’s name?”

“I don’t know. He’s not mine—he just hangs out around my apartment building. But I’ve been calling him Poe.”

“Poe, like the writer?”

“Exactly.”

“Of course,” Bucky chuckles. “I should’ve guessed.”

“What about you? What’s new in your world?”

“Honestly? Not much. Sam tried to make lasagna last night. I’m pretty sure he invented a new species of food poisoning instead.”

You laugh loudly, the sound hitting a spot in his chest unexpectedly. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” he says, grinning. “I think the smoke alarm’s still traumatized.”

The conversation drifts, covering everything and nothing at once. You talk about your classes, your friends, your routines. He tells you more about his favorite places in Brooklyn, the way the city feels alive even when he feels anything but.

And soon, the nerves melt away completely, replaced by the same ease you’ve always feel through his letters.

“You know,” Bucky says after a long pause, “I think I like this. Talking to you.”

Your heart skips at his words, and you’re grateful he can’t see the flush creeping up your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says simply. “It’s nice. Like… you’re real now. Not just words on a page.”

You smile, staring up at your bedroom ceiling. “I like it too.”

When your call ends two hours later, you sit for a moment, staring at your phone. The world feels quieter, smaller, like it doesn’t quite matter as much.

And on the other side of the country, Bucky feels the same, staring at your name in his recent calls and wonders how someone so many miles away feels closer than ever. 

What started as one phone call quickly became a routine. 

Some nights, you call Bucky while sitting at your desk, the sound of his voice filling the quiet as you work on an assignment. He talks about his latest lecture or the annoying guy in his study group, and you share stories about your professor’s dramatic poetry readings or the characters in the story you were writing.

“You have a nice laugh,” he compliments, during a late-night call. “It’s different than I imagined, but in a good way. I like it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a smile tugging at your lips. “I think you’re the first person to ever say that.”

“Well, I mean it. You have a good laugh. It makes everything sound less… heavy, you know?”

You sit back in your chair, glancing at the screen of your laptop, but your focus is entirely on the phone now. “I guess I could use a little less heaviness. Especially with my current assignment. I swear, my professor’s idea of ‘creativity’ is to make us write the most pretentious stuff imaginable.”

“I think every professor thinks they’re shaping the next great mind,” Bucky states. “Mine’s the same. My last one made us analyze a yoga position and turn it into a thesis. Like, what is this, ‘Kinesiology 101: Zen and the Art of Muscle Movement’?”

You giggle at the absurdity of it. “That’s both weird and kind of genius. Imagine doing that for one of my stories. The whole plot could be a yoga class, but with a secret mystery and forbidden love.”

“Now that’s a story I’d read,” Bucky jokes. “But seriously, I get it. It’s like they try to make everything sound deep and philosophical when sometimes… it’s just about getting through the day.”

“I’ll drink to that,” you agree, tapping your pen against the desk. “But hey, at least we’re doing something we enjoy, right? Writing, studying—whatever it is, it keeps us busy.”

“Yeah, but I think what really keeps me going is knowing that there’s more to it. I’m not just learning about muscles or how to help people move. It’s like a way of understanding how everything fits together—how the body moves, how it heals, and maybe even… why it breaks down in the first place.”

“I get that. For me, it’s the stories. I want to figure out why people do what they do, what drives them. Sometimes I feel like I’m trying to find the puzzle pieces and just waiting to put them together.”

“And when you do?” Bucky wonders, tone softer now.

“When I do…” You trail off, unsure of how to explain the feeling. “I think that’s when everything clicks. Like, the world makes sense, even if just for a moment.”

“I think that’s the best part of what we’re doing,” he adds thoughtfully. “Trying to understand how we all fit together in this world. You know, why we’re here.”

Another comfortable pause stretches between you.

“You know, sometimes I wish I could just leave all the work behind and go somewhere. Take a break from everything, just for a little while. Do something completely different.”

“Yeah, I get that. I think I’d like to go somewhere quiet. Maybe a cabin in the woods, or… a secluded beach. Somewhere I could just… breathe.”

“That sounds perfect,” he agrees. “No expectations. Just… space. Maybe one day we’ll both get to do it.”

You smile at the thought, imagining the peace that comes with leaving everything behind, even if just for a few days. “Maybe one day.”

Even without the ability to see one another, to meet face-to-face, you’ve found a space where you belong, right here with Bucky, in this quiet corner of the world you’ve created together.

The phone calls haven’t replaced the letters; if anything, they made them more special. You still send small items tucked into the envelopes, like pressed flowers you found on a walk or the postcard from a local bookshop with a note scribbled on the back: ‘This place feels like it belongs to you.’

Bucky sends things, too—a tiny seashell he’d found on a rare trip to the beach with Sam, one of his favorite protein bars (“I’m convinced these are the only reason I survive exams”), or a handwritten note on the back of a kinesiology diagram he thought you’d find funny.

I’m glad we started talking on the phone. It’s weird, but I don’t think I realized how much I needed it.

The next time Bucky’s name appears on your phone, you find yourself talking for hours, the way you always do. Bucky tells you about a new project he’s working on for class and you share the struggles of keeping up with your creative writing assignments. You laugh together about how you’ve both procrastinated on something important, even though you know you’re going to pull through in the end.

“You know,” Bucky says, his voice a little softer now, “I never really realized how much I needed to hear from someone like you. It’s just… easy, you know? Talking to you.”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “I feel the same. I didn’t know I could talk to someone this much without feeling like I’m overdoing it.”

There’s a silence for a moment, and then Bucky’s voice comes through, more vulnerable. “Do you ever think about what it’d be like if we could meet in person? Like… I don’t know, maybe take a trip or something?”

Your heart skips a beat. You hadn’t expected the question, but it feels like it’s been lingering there for a while. “Yeah,” you reply slowly. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about what it’d be like to actually meet you. Maybe we could go to that bookshop you told me about, or that café you go to all the time.”

“I think that would be nice,” Bucky agrees, mentally curating a day for you both like it might happen.

You sit on the floor of your room, your textbook open in front of you, but your mind is far away. Wanda, sprawled across your bed, scrolls through her phone.

“So, you’ve been talking to Bucky on the phone a lot lately, huh?” Wanda says casually, glancing down at you.

You look up from your book, the words of your professor blurring in your mind. “Yeah, a lot. Why?”

She raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Because it sounds like you two are practically a thing now. You’re sharing things that nobody else knows, stuff you haven’t even told me, and that’s… kinda big.”

You feel your cheeks warm, but you try to act nonchalant. “It’s just easier, you know? With him, it’s different.”

Wanda leans forward, setting her phone down, her expression turning serious. “So, when are you actually going to see him? I mean, for real, not just through letters and phone calls. You’re both in different states, and I get that it’s complicated, but... aren’t you curious? Don’t you think it’s time to see the real thing?”

There’s a knot in your stomach at the thought of meeting Bucky in person. “I don’t know. It feels so risky. We’ve got this thing, this connection, and I don’t want to mess it up by... meeting and finding out it’s not the same.”

Wanda sits up, her voice soft but insistent. “I get that, but listen to me, this thing you have, it’s real. I can hear it when you talk about him. You don’t have to know everything, but maybe it’s time to take that step. Meet him, see if what you feel is the same in person. If it’s worth it, you’ll know. And if not, you can go back to what you have now. But you won’t know until you try.”

You look down at your hands, the words swirling in your mind. “I don’t know if I can just... show up there, though. What if it’s too much?”

Wanda leans forward, giving you a meaningful look. “You’ll never know unless you do it. And what’s the worst that could happen? You go to Brooklyn, meet up with him, and find out if what you have is more than just letters. If it’s real. You deserve that, okay?”

You bite your lip, thoughts racing. Deep down, you know she’s right. But still, the idea of taking that leap is terrifying.

Bucky leans back against his chair as he closes the kinesiology textbook on the kitchen table. Sam is working on his own assignment, typing away across the table, though his eyes are trained on his friend, the expression on his face full of mischief.

“So, have you talked to her lately?” Sam asks, not looking up from the laptop.

Bucky shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, we’ve been texting. Calls, too. Same as always.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You sure? ‘Cause every time you pick up that phone, you get this dopey grin on your face. Like, way too much of a dopey grin.”

Bucky shoots him a look, but it’s hard to keep the smile off his face. “Shut up, man. It’s just easier to talk to her than anyone else. She’s cool. It’s... nice.”

Sam stops typing and leans forward, his tone shifting. “Look, Bucky, we’ve been best friends for years, and I can tell there’s something more there. You’ve never talked about anyone like you talk about her. You’ve been sending stuff, taking time to connect with her, and now you’re talking on the phone like you’ve known each other forever. What’s holding you back from making it real?”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, clearly wrestling with the idea. “I don’t know. It feels too soon. I’ve only known her for like five months, and I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to be that guy who shows up, and then everything falls apart. What if it’s different in person?”

Sam leans back, crossing his arms. “What if it’s better in person? You’re both out there, being real with each other. But you’re still holding back. Maybe meeting her, seeing her face to face, will show you something you didn’t even realize you needed.”

Sam smirks. “Bucky, she’s probably thinking the same thing. You’ve built something real, and now it’s time to see if it stands up in person. If you really care about her, you should at least give it a shot.”

Bucky looks down at the table, conflicted. “I don’t know, Sam. It’s a lot to ask of her. I don’t want to make things too complicated.”

Sam’s words weigh on him, and he can feel the pull, the desire to take that next step, to finally know what it would be like to stand face to face with you.

“You’re right,” Bucky mutters after a pause, his resolve slowly hardening. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll make it happen.”

Sam grins. “That’s what I like to hear, man. Just don’t wait too long, alright?”

The fall air outside is crisp. You’re favorite time of the year. You sit on your porch swing, finishing up your morning coffee. You’ve been buried in finals for the past few days, and it feels like the weight of them is starting to catch up. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, but you ignore it for the moment, reaching instead for the stack of mail that you checked this morning.

You sift through the usual bills and flyers until something catches your eye—a familiar handwriting. Your heart does a little flip when you recognize Bucky’s name on the envelope. The anticipation surges as you rip it open, the paper inside feeling heavier than usual.

A ticket slips out. A plane ticket to be exact.

You freeze for a moment, not quite able to wrap your mind around what you’re holding. You unfold his letter quickly. 

Y/N, I’m not sure how to even begin this, so I’ll just say it plainly: I’m sending you a plane ticket. I know this is sudden, and I completely understand if you think this is too much or too soon. I don’t want to pressure you into anything, and if it’s not something you’re comfortable with, I won’t be offended in the slightest. It’s a refundable ticket, so no pressure, I promise. But if you’re open to it... I’d love for you to come visit me in Brooklyn. I remember you telling me your Fall break is coming up, and I’ve been thinking a lot about how much I want to show you everything here—the parks, the food spots, the places that always make me feel like I’m home. I’ve even made a little map of things I thought you’d enjoy. It’s not the grandest of plans, but I think it could be a good start. I’m giving you the time to decide, but if you do decide you want to take this leap... I’ll be waiting for you at the arrival gate, next Saturday. I’ll make sure I’m there early, just in case. And if not, I completely understand. You’ve been amazing, and I wouldn’t want to ruin what we’ve got, whatever it is. I hope to see you soon —Bucky

You blink, the words blurring together for a moment. The excitement is a bit overwhelming. He’s giving you space, no pressure, just an invitation. The ticket, the map—he’s really thought all of this through. And the idea of being in Brooklyn, of standing face-to-face with the person who’s been your constant for months now, feels... possible. 

You glance down at the ticket again, your fingers trembling slightly as you trace the flight details.  You take a deep breath, setting the ticket down beside you and run your fingers over the map he made, the carefully marked spots where he hopes to take you. You smile at his gesture. It’s simple, thoughtful... real.

You think of Wanda’s voice, urging you to take the leap.

Are you ready for this?

Thank you so much reading <3 Please let me know what you think and reblogs always help!!

[thatsadguymochi]

here's my answers for Moch!

Family: yes! they have a few siblings (none go to school with them) and lives with their parents.

Thoughts on Quartz: Doesn't really understand what her deal is but is interested because Moch thought she looked kinda cool! Although I have a feeling that Moch's attempts at trying to find out more has usually failed ;-;

Thoughts/relationship with Azul: Azul literally just answers most of the things they ask so he's usually a go-to if the day is bland. Moch totally considers him a friend but it most likely is one sided.

Relationships with other characters (i'll just stick with the twst characters since I don't really know yet how they'd interact with everyone else's ocs ;-;)

Floyd- Moch has a crush on him but is way too intimidated to stay in a conversation with him so they kinda stay away when he's around.

Jade- Moch is also intimidated by him but also is interested in him in the way you study something

Riddle- Moch has bothered Riddle so many times that he probably actively avoids them

Idia- Moch keeps trying to befriend him but keeps popping up out of nowhere to talk with him and accidentally scares him all the time. they consider him a friend!

What grade/year is Moch in: 2nd year! (they are 17)

Goal for the school year: Know as much as possible about their classmates (why? who knows!)

How do they react if they were framed for murder of another student by Quartz and do they know it's Quartz: Moch would be devastated and would desperately try to find all the proof they can that they didn't do it- I doubt they'd know Quartz would do this either.

What do they do if they find Quartz with a weapon in their skirt pocket: Moch would be worried at first and probably not mention it yet- What can they say? It's a scary world! people need protection! But if someone else brings up something similar or they get something out of it then they might tell someone.

Where are they during the school day: Moch is quite elusive during school! They go to classes sometimes and other times wander the halls or sit around in random spots doodling in their notepad. During lunch, they will eat in any spot that is open to sit at! They usually only join groups during lunch if invited to, so that means that's usually the time they are on their own.

How are their grades: bad.

I also have asks open if there's any other questions for Moch!!

(No Yan Sim AU) Questions for OCs! + Quartz and other characters' lore

You don't have to do these if you don't want to! You can write and answer how ever you want (3rd person or as the OC)

These answers are just examples and they also give lore to other TWST characters in the AU

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

Riddle currently lives with his mother. Because of her influence, he is the strictest in the student council (which consists of the dormleaders.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

[You can yap about it here since I already used Quartz as an example in the fourth question]

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

Jade is Azul's right hand man. He assists Azul with a lot of student council work and is mostly by his side with Floyd. They are friends from their middle school days and up to their highschool days (although the three of them won't admit it).

Jade found Azul's hardwork and scheming nature very exciting so he and his brother always stayed by Azul's side to see what fun events would happen.

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

[They are speaking about Quartz as example]

Floyd: "Who again?"

Floyd doesn't really acknowledge Quartz since she's so quick out of his sights. Genuinely believes there isn't a person named that but is suspicious.

Jade: "Oh, that shy girl? She's a little funny."

Definitely suspicious of Quartz but they don't interact much so he has no other information about her. He probably needs to be more skillful when studying her.

Riddle: "Quartz?.. Uh.. I-I don't recall who that is."

Quartz rarely interacts with Riddle.

Ace: "Ah? You mean that girl who's always so weird? I've seen her watch Azul. Pffftt! Do you think she likes him?"

He notices her sometimes because he thinks her appearance is a little flashy.

Idia: "I-Isn't she one of Azul's admirers?... She's the shy type right? She's a little strange though.. Sometimes she takes photos of me! W-Wait.. Maybe she's into me instead?! EEEKK!! H-HOW SCARY!!"

Completely misunderstands Quartz's actions but he's quick to know how weird her actions are. He stays away from her if Azul isn't present.

5. What grade/year is your OC?

Azul, Jade, and Floyd are all 2nd years (17).

Leona has been held back so he is still 20.

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

Quartz wishes to kill Azul 🙏

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

Floyd is jumping her.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

Riddle is absolutely reporting that! He's calling the cops and everything 🫡🫡🫡

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

Quartz is always in class but she'll come right before the bell rings since she was.. busy. She doesn't have a particular place she goes to all the time. She's never in one spot.

Quartz's lunch spot varies because she's always spying but her usual spot is in the courtyard.

Riddle is assigned being a hall monitor so he usually watches the halls when he is able to. He usually eats lunch with Trey and Cater.

Leona is always found napping under trees and skipping his classes. Ruggie manages to find him and give him his lunch from the cafeteria.

Rook is watching you.

10. How are your OC's grades?

Deuce tries, ok. (Awful)

[olderthannetfic]

I had an interesting conversation about online scams with three of my older friends (late 60s/early70s) a bit ago. None of them know what Tumblr even is, but all three of them compared the fundraiser scams to the romance scams that apparently run rampant on Facebook preying on single older women.

Both share the core concept of constructing a character and scenario that the mark will sympathize with and want to connect with, and, most importantly, trust.

Romance scams are longer term cons and fundraiser scams are quick grab-and-dashdeals, but the predatory storytelling thing really is the same.

--