#not that i really understand what's happening. at all. ever

[victhespookygoat]

Full Transcript Below bc Forbes' Website Sucks:

TRUMP (after a reporter asks if he’s too “aligned” with Putin): If I didn’t align myself with both of them, you’d never have a deal. You want me to say really terrible things about Putin, and then say, ‘Hi Vladimir, how are we doing on the deal?’ That doesn’t work that way. I’m not aligned with Putin, I’m not aligned with anybody, I’m aligned with the United States of America and for the good of the world. I’m aligned with the world and I wanna get this thing over with. You see the hatred he’s got for Putin, it’s very tough for me to make a deal with that kind of hate. He’s got tremendous hatred, and I understand that, but I can tell you the other side isn’t exactly in love with him either. So, it’s not a question of alignment, I have—I’m aligned with the world. I want to get the thing sett—I’m aligned with Europe, I want to see if we can get this thing done. You want me to be tough? I can be tougher than any human being you’ve ever seen, I’d be so tough, but you’re never going to get a deal that way, so that’s the way it goes. Alright, one more question…

PROMOTED

VANCE: Hey, I want to respond to this. So, look, for four years the United States of America, we had a president who stood up at press conferences and talked tough about Vladimir Putin, and then Putin invaded Ukraine and destroyed a significant chunk of the country. The path to peace and the path to prosperity is maybe engaging in diplomacy. We tried the pathway of Joe Biden, of thumping our chest and pretending that the President of the United States’ words mattered more than the President of the United States’ actions. What makes America a good country is America engaging in diplomacy. That’s what President Trump is doing.

ZELENSKYY: Can I ask you?

VANCE: Sure.

ZELENSKYY: Yeah?

VANCE: Yeah.

ZELENSKYY: Okay, he occupied our parts, big parts of Ukraine, part of East and Crimea, so he occupied it in 2014. So, during a lot of years, I’m not speaking about just Biden, but those time was … President Obama, then President Trump, then President Biden, now President Trump and, god bless, now President Trump will stop him. But during 2014, nobody stopped him. He just occupied and took. He killed people, you know? What the contact line—

TRUMP: 2015.

ZELENSKYY: 2014.

VANCE: 2014 to 2015.

TRUMP: Oh, 2014.

ZELENSKYY: Yeah, yeah, yeah, so.

TRUMP: I was not here.

ZELENSKYY: Yeah, but…

VANCE: That’s exactly right.

ZELENSKYY: Yes, but during 2014 til 2022, the situation the same that people have been dying on the contact line. Nobody stopped him. You know that we had conversations with him, a lot of conversations, multilateral conversations. And we signed with him, me, like a new president in 2019, I signed with him the deal. I signed with him, Macron and Merkel, we signed ceasefire. Ceasefire, all of them told me that he will never go, we signed with him a gas contract … Yes, but after that he broke the ceasefire, he killed our people and he didn’t exchange prisoners. We signed the exchange of prisoners, but he didn’t do it. What kind of diplomacy, JD, you are speaking about? What do you mean?

VANCE: I’m talking about the kind of diplomacy that’s going to end the destruction of your country.

ZELENSKYY: Yes, but if you—

VANCE: Mr. President, Mr. President, with respect I think it’s disrespectful for you to come into the Oval Office and try to litigate this in front of the American media. Right now, you guys are going around and forcing conscripts to the front lines because you have manpower problems. You should be thanking the president for trying to bring an end to this conflict.

ZELENSKYY: Have you ever been to Ukraine that you see what problems we have?

VANCE: I have been to—

ZELENSKYY: Come once.

VANCE: I have actually watched and seen the stories and I know what happens is you bring people, you bring them on a propaganda tour, Mr. President. Do you disagree that you’ve had problems bringing people into your military?

ZELENSKYY: We have problems—

VANCE: And do you think that it’s respectful to come to the Oval Office of the United States of America and attack the administration that is trying to prevent the destruction of your country?

ZELENSKYY: A lot of questions. Let’s start from the beginning.

VANCE: Sure.

ZELENSKYY: First of all, during the war, everybody has problems. Even you, but you have nice ocean and don’t feel now, but you’ll feel it in the future. God bless, god bless—

TRUMP: You don’t know that. You don’t know—don’t tell us what we’re gonna feel. We’re trying to solve a problem. Don’t tell us what we’re gonna feel.

ZELENSKYY: I’m not telling you, I’m answering on the question—

TRUMP: Because you’re in no position to dictate that.

VANCE: That’s exactly what you’re doing.

TRUMP: You’re in no position to dictate what we’re gonna feel, we’re going to feel very good. We’re going to feel very good and very strong—

ZELENSKYY: You will feel influence—

TRUMP: You’re right now not in a very good position. You’ve allowed yourself to be in a very bad position and he happens to be right about it.

ZELESKYY: From the very beginning of the war—

TRUMP: You’re not in a good position. You don’t have the cards right now. With us, you start having cards.

ZELENSKYY: I’m not playing cards. [INAUDIBLE] Mr. President, [INAUDIBLE].

[CROSSTALK]

TRUMP: Right now you’re—you’re playing cards, you’re playing cards—you’re gambling with the lives of millions of people. You’re gambling with World War III. You’re gambling with World War III. And what you’re doing is very disrespectful to the country, this country. It’s backed you far more than a lot of people said they should have.

VANCE: Have you said ‘thank you’ once this entire time?

ZELENSKYY: A lot of times.

VANCE: No, in this—

ZELENSKYY: Even today. Even today—

VANCE: No, in this entire meeting. You went to Pennsylvania and campaigned for the opposition in October. Offer some words of appreciation for the United States of America and the president who’s trying to save your country.

ZELENSKYY: Please, you think that if you will speak very loudly about the war—

TRUMP: He’s not speaking loudly. He’s not speaking loudly. Your country’s in big trouble.

ZELENSKYY: Can I? Can I answer?—

TRUMP: Wait a minute. No, no. You’ve done a lot of talking. Your country is in big trouble.

ZELENSKYY: I know. I know.

TRUMP: You’re not winning, you're not winning this. You have a damn good chance of coming out okay because of us.

ZELENSKYY: Mr. President, we are staying in our country, staying strong. From the very beginning of the war we have been alone and we are thankful. I said thanks in this cabinet, [INAUDIBLE], I said thanks—

TRUMP: You haven’t been alone. You haven’t been alone. We gave you—through this stupid president—$350 billion—

ZELENSKYY: You voted for your president.

TRUMP: We gave you military equipment and your men are brave but they had to use our military—if you didn’t have our military equipment, if you didn’t have our military equipment, this war would have been over in two weeks.

ZELENSKYY: In three days, I heard it from Putin, in three days—

TRUMP: Maybe less.

ZELENSKYY: In two weeks, of course—

TRUMP: It’s going to be a very hard thing to do business like this, I tell you.

VANCE: Just say thank you.

ZELENSKYY: I said a lot of times, thank you to American people—

VANCE: Accept that there are disagreements and let’s go litigate those disagreements rather than trying to fight it out in the American media when you’re wrong. We know that you’re wrong.

TRUMP: But you see, I think it’s good for the American people to see what’s going on. I think it’s very important, that’s why I kept this going so long. You have to be thankful—

ZELENSKYY: I’m thankful—

TRUMP: You don’t have the cards. You’re buried there, your people are dying, you’re running low on soldiers—listen. You’re running low on soldiers, it would be a damn good thing. Then you tell us: ‘I don’t want a ceasefire, I don’t want a ceasefire, I want to go, and I want this—.’ Look, if you could get a ceasefire right now, I tell you you’d take it so the bullets stop flying and your men stop getting killed.

ZELENSKYY: Of course, of course we want to stop the war.

TRUMP: But you’re saying you don’t want a ceasefire—

ZELENSKYY: What I said to you—

TRUMP: I want a ceasefire. Because you get a ceasefire faster than an agreement.

ZELENSKYY: With guarantees. Ask our people about ceasefire, what they think. It doesn’t matter for you what—

TRUMP: That wasn’t with me. That wasn’t with me.

[CROSSTALK]

TRUMP: That was with a guy named Biden who is not a smart person—That was with Obama.

ZELENSKYY: That was your president. It was your president—

TRUMP: Excuse me, that was with Obama who gave you sheets, and I gave you javelins.

ZELENSKYY: Yes.

TRUMP: I gave you the javelins to take out all those tanks. Obama gave you sheets. In fact, the statement is: Obama gave sheets and Trump gave javelins. You gotta be more thankful. Because let me tell you, you don’t have the cards. With us, you have the cards. But without us, you don’t have any cards.

REPORTER: One more question…

TRUMP: It's going to be a tough deal to make. Because attitudes have to change.

REPORTER: What if Russia breaks ceasefire? What if Russia breaks [INAUDIBLE]?

TRUMP: What are you saying?

VANCE: She’s asking, ‘what if Russia breaks the ceasefire?’

TRUMP: Well what if they—what if anything! What if a bomb drops on your head right now? Okay? What if they broke it? I don’t know. They broke it with Biden because Biden, they didn’t respect him, they didn’t respect Obama. They respect me. Let me tell you, Putin went through a hell of a lot with me. He went through a phony witch hunt where they used him and Russia—Russia, Russia, Russia, you ever hear of that deal? That was a phony—that was a phony Hunter Biden, Joe Biden scam. Hillary Clinton, shifty Adam Schiff, it was a Democrat scam. And he had to go through that. And he did go through it and we didn’t end up in a war. He went through it, he was accused of all that stuff—he had nothing to do with it. It came out of Hunter Biden’s bathroom. It came out of Hunter Biden’s bedroom. It was disgusting. And then they said, ‘Oh, oh, the laptop from hell was made by Russia.’ The 51 agents, the whole thing was a scam, and he had to put up with that. He was being accused of all that stuff. All I can say is this: He might’ve broken deals with Obama, and Bush, and he might’ve broken them with Biden. He did, maybe, maybe he didn’t—I don’t know what happened. But he didn’t break them with me. He wants to make a deal. I don’t know if he can make a deal.

TRUMP: The problem is I’ve empowered you [looks at Zelenskyy] to be a tough guy. And I don’t think you’d be a tough guy without the United States. And your people are very brave.

ZELENSKYY: Thank you.

TRUMP: But you’re either going to make a deal, or we’re out. And if we’re out, you’ll fight it out. I don’t think it’s going to be pretty, but you’ll fight it out. But you don’t have the cards. But once we sign that deal, you’re in a much better position. But you’re not acting at all thankful, and that’s not a nice thing. I’ll be honest, that’s not a nice thing.

TRUMP: Alright, I think we’ve seen enough, what do you think? This is going to be great television, I will say that.

the transcript btw. It was hard to make it out on the video because of the blowhards yelling and me feeling incandescently blind and deaf with rage

oh, to have a leader with the moral fiber and strong backbone that Zelenskyy has

[gpcwsl]

Alexia and r have a 10 year age gap and alexia’s always acting really sweet and boyfriend to r in private but refuses to acknowledge there’s something between them and being cold in public then being apologetic but happy ending please!

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Invisible in the light - adored in the dark

WC: 969

MasterList

Warnings: age gap, ignored? Kiss?

Song: you were good to me - Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

The first time it happened, you brushed it off.

Maybe Alexia didn’t hear you when you called her name. Maybe the restaurant was too loud, or maybe she was too focused on whatever conversation she was having with her teammates.

But then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

In private, Alexia was everything you could ever want in a girlfriend. She held you so close at night that it felt like she was afraid you would slip through her fingers.

She pressed lazy kisses to your forehead in the mornings, whispered sweet nothings in Spanish that you couldn’t yet understand but still loved the sound of.

She traced shapes onto your bare skin, her fingers moving over your back like an artist painting on a canvas.

But in public?

It was as if you didn’t exist.

Alexia wouldn’t look at you. Wouldn’t talk to you. Wouldn’t even acknowledge your presence. She was ice-cold, a stark contrast to the warmth she showed you behind closed doors.

You thought you could handle it. You thought it wouldn’t bother you.

You were wrong.

You’re at a team dinner when it happens again.

Alexia sits at the other end of the table, deep in conversation with Mapi and Patri, laughing at some inside joke you aren’t privy to. You, on the other hand, are stuck in an awkward silence between two of the younger players, stirring the ice in your drink with your straw, pretending that it doesn’t hurt.

But it does.

It’s not just that she’s ignoring you. It’s the way she goes out of her way to do it. The way her gaze dances around you, how she shifts her body away when you try to move closer, how she only speaks in clipped, professional tones if she absolutely has to respond.

Like you’re nothing more than a stranger.

Like you’re not the same person she held in her arms just last night, whispering soft te quieros into your hair.

The thought makes your stomach twist.

You try to hold it in, to swallow it down. But when the team finally gets up to leave, Alexia walking right past you like you’re invisible, something inside you snaps.

The apartment door barely clicks shut before you say it.

“Why do you do that?”

Alexia turns to you, mid-way through pulling off her jacket. “¿Qué?”

“You know what.” Your voice wavers, but you keep going. “Why do you act like I don’t exist in public?”

Alexia freezes. Her brows knit together, confusion flickering in her hazel eyes. “Y/n, I don’t—”

“You do,” you cut her off, stepping forward. “You do, Alexia. You ignore me. You won’t even look at me.” Your voice cracks on the last part, frustration mixing with something more vulnerable.

Alexia exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?”

There’s a long pause. She looks at you, really looks at you for the first time all night, and her expression softens.

“I—” She hesitates. “I’m scared.”

Your brows furrow. “Scared of what?”

She glances away, lips pressing together. “Scared of what people will think. Scared of how they’ll see me.”

It clicks then. The age gap. The inevitable judgment.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“So what?” Your voice is quieter now, but no less firm. “You’d rather pretend I don’t exist than risk people knowing we’re together?”

Alexia’s eyes snap back to yours, and there’s something raw in them. Guilt. Regret.

“Y/n…” She steps closer, reaching for you, but you don’t move.

“You can’t have it both ways,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t treat me like I’m the most important person in the world when we’re alone and then act like I’m nothing as soon as other people are around.”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy.

Then Alexia sighs, shoulders dropping. “You’re right.”

You blink. “I am?”

“Yes.” She takes another step forward, closing the space between you. This time, you let her. Her hands find yours, fingers curling around your wrists. “I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you.”

You swallow. “You were.”

She nods, gaze full of remorse. “Lo siento, mi amor.”

You sigh. “In English, Alexia.”

A small smile tugs at her lips despite the tension in the air. “I’m sorry, my love.”

You hold her gaze for a long moment, searching for any trace of insincerity. You find none.

Then she’s pulling you into her arms, wrapping herself around you like she’s trying to shield you from the world. “I’ll do better,” she murmurs into your hair. “I promise.”

You exhale against her shoulder, the weight on your chest easing just a little. “Okay.”

She pulls back just enough to cup your face, her thumb tracing gentle circles against your cheek. “I love you, Y/n.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. She’s said it before, but never like this—never so openly, so unguarded.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

And then she kisses you.

It’s slow, tender, full of unspoken apologies and silent vows. She kisses you like she’s making up for every second she’s ignored you, like she’s trying to prove with her lips what she failed to show in public.

And you let her.

When she finally pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours. “Cuddle with me?” she murmurs.

You can’t help but smile. “Only if you actually acknowledge me tomorrow.”

Alexia chuckles softly. “Deal.”

You curl up together on the couch, her arms around you, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear. And for the first time in a long time, you feel seen.

Because in the end, love isn’t about the whispers in the dark.

It’s about the way someone chooses to hold your hand in the light.

[writeriguess]

Can you write a Dabi x female reader, where reader is Katsuki's sister and in secret relationship with Dabi?? Reader is not a prohero and doesn't have any quirks. Katsuki is sssssuper protective of her and Dabi just lives for it. He throws hints about her and their relationship while fighting Katsuki, but he doesn't catch up, he thinks it's just some nonsense a crazy person would say. This is probs stupid but I'm just... crazy about Katsuki's sister reader x Dabi trope and I wish there was more of it 😩

author's note: Oh I love this scenario and I loved writing this fic <3

Burned in Secret

You’ve spent your whole life in the shadow of someone explosive—your brother, Katsuki Bakugo. It was never easy being the quirkless sibling of a pro-hero, especially not when that hero was the loudest, most aggressive, and most protective person you knew. He had a way of acting like the world was out to get you, like you were made of glass and would shatter if he wasn’t watching. You loved him for it, but at the same time, he didn’t understand that you weren’t some delicate little thing. You could handle yourself.

And, well… you handled yourself right into the arms of the last person Katsuki would ever approve of.

Dabi.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened. Maybe it was because, in some ways, he was everything your brother wasn’t. Katsuki was all fire and noise; Dabi was quiet destruction. Where Katsuki burned hot and bright, Dabi burned slow and deep, dangerous in a way that sent a thrill through your veins. You met him through circumstances that should’ve never led to romance—he was a villain, after all. But something about his smirks, the way he looked at you like you were something interesting, something real, had you falling before you even realized it. And despite his nonchalant attitude toward most things, you found that he actually cared in his own twisted way.

The relationship was a secret, of course. If Katsuki ever found out, there’d be hell to pay.

Which is exactly why Dabi loved to drop hints.

The battlefield was in ruins, buildings crumbling, smoke filling the air. Katsuki stood in the middle of it all, blood trickling down his forehead, hands still crackling with residual explosions. He was glaring at the man standing across from him, the one whose stitched grin hadn’t wavered once throughout the fight.

“You just don’t shut up, do you?” Katsuki snarled, flexing his fingers like he was resisting the urge to blast him into oblivion.

Dabi smirked. “What can I say? You’re fun to mess with.” He rolled his shoulders, barely fazed by the heat in the air. “Though I gotta admit, you’re a little denser than I expected.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dabi let out a low chuckle, tilting his head just enough to let his bangs fall into his eyes. “Just thinking about how protective you are. Cute, really.”

Katsuki’s scowl deepened. “Shut the hell up.”

“You act like you can keep everything precious to you locked up tight, but people have secrets, Dynamight.” Dabi’s tongue flicked out over his lower lip, dry and cracked. “People do things in the dark they’d never do in the light. Even the ones closest to you.”

Katsuki barely stopped himself from lunging. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Dabi just grinned, the kind of grin that set Katsuki’s teeth on edge. “Nothing. Just thinking about how funny it’d be if someone close to you was keeping a little something from you. Something big.” He raised his hand, wiggling his fingers as if in thought. “Like, I don’t know… a secret relationship?”

Katsuki froze for half a second before shaking his head violently. “You really are a lunatic. What the fuck are you even talking about?”

Dabi just shrugged. “Just a thought.”

With a snarl, Katsuki launched himself forward, palm sparking. Dabi dodged effortlessly, laughing under his breath as if this was all a game to him. In some ways, it was.

Because he knew the truth.

He knew that the moment this fight was over, he’d find you waiting for him in the shadows, worried and scolding him for teasing your brother. He’d get to hear your voice, feel your hands fussing over his burns even though he told you not to bother. He’d get to be with you, touch you, kiss you. And your precious big brother? The one who thought he had everything under control? He had no idea.

And Dabi lived for it.

Later that night, when you met him in your usual spot, you smacked him lightly on the arm. “You were messing with him again, weren’t you?”

Dabi chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Maybe.”

“You’re going to slip up one day,” you huffed, though your hands still rested against his chest. “And he’s going to actually kill you.”

“I’d like to see him try.” He leaned down, brushing his lips over yours. “Besides, what’s life without a little risk?”

You sighed against his mouth, knowing this was just who he was. Knowing that, despite everything, you wouldn’t change him for the world.

And knowing that when Katsuki finally found out, all hell was going to break loose.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

If you feel like „It gets better“ was all a lie, this letter is for you: 

It’s understandable you feel that way. After all it felt like such an omnipresent promise for the young folks in lgbt+ spaces: hey, it gets better! The world is becoming a safer, more accepting place. Laws will change for the better and so will mindsets. We just need to wait it out while things move forward! …. But we just need to turn on the news and we see that promise not coming true. 

We see things going backwards, laws changing for the worse, queerphobic mindsets becoming more normalized. Trump in the US, the Afd in Germany, the scary far-right surge in so many countries: it’s very easy to find reasons to feel hopeless. 

I’m actually not going to tell you to stop feeling that way. These are frustrating, heartbreaking, scary times. Swallowing your pain and pretending it isn’t real, that would be horrible advice. You are allowed to feel disappointed or angry or even betrayed. In fact, you need to allow yourself to feel these feelings. 

But, and this is an important but, I’m also not going to tell you that you are right. Valid, yes, but not completely right. I still believe in „It gets better“. I don’t think it’s a lie. Maybe it’s just a little bit too short. 

It gets better - because we make it better. 

It gets better - because we fight for that. 

It gets better - and we need that hope to fuel the fight. 

Things are not just naturally going forward. We can’t just wait it out until it all magically gets better. Homophobia and transphobia won’t just die out as the time passes by. And that’s painful to accept, especially if you really clung onto this idea for comfort. But that acceptance may also make room for its own (and maybe better?) kind of comfort: a hope that’s more active than passive. 

No, that whole „getting better“ thing won’t happen magically and naturally. But we are doing our best to make it happen. More people are out and proud than ever before, and they are willing to fight back. There are still things changing for the better, small or big, because people fight for it. There are still communities and safe spaces because people are building them. There are still people that vow to uplift and protect each other - and we are not going away. 

So, what can you do? You can feel that betrayal, you can feel your anger and pain. And take it as fuel. You can keep in mind that the progress we’ve made is not erased. We are still here. You are here, and you’re not alone. There are still so many of us fighting for us, loving each other and building a future where we can thrive.

It gets better. Not magically, but because of us. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[theoretically-questionable]

Ecstatic about how season 2 is apparently going because. Season 1 absolutely ganked me with the vast potential scope of its analogies.

Like. Just on a first watch, it resonated in like five different ways.

It was an exaggerated portrayal of what it feels like to carve out a separate "you" when you work a tiring, uninspiring job. How every day in the office feels like you never really left because you're just tired and flat outside of work so nothing happens. But also every time you're out of work it feels like you've always been sitting alone on the couch.

And also it felt like what I remember being a child can feel like (especially an autistic one). Everyone who has power over you is inscrutable. Their mood changes and you never really know why. You make them so angry sometimes just by existing or not understanding things that nobody ever really explained to you. Everyone assumes you exist to learn to be productive and should get on with that and nothing else. Sometimes people hurt you and that's just the way the world is. You depend on them and know nothing else, after all.

And of course it's about more than that. It's about what labour takes from us (family, connecting with our own children, self-expression), how it deliberately wants to render us helpless and insists who we are outside of work has to be left at the door. How even if we love and are good at a job, the structural forces at play of profit and labour heirachy are stealing from us.

It's about how capital-holders desperately want to convince labourers that they are lucky to work. That work gives their lives purpose, meaning. We're all just a big family, after all. Its about how the machine will use this affinity to prime you to despise or mock or shun or fear those who are trying to escape the very thing that's making you miserable.

And it's about offloading. It's about how money is power and power's goal is to offload every single bit of life that isn't immediately gratifying. It's about the invisible labour that supports all of society. It's about the griding gears behind a cukture that tries to convince every person, even those with little power, that they should be offloading. That life should be easy and maintenance-free by default. That you are entitled to a life free from upkeep labour and recurring, boring, tedious, inconvenient tasks, and if your life has any kind of maintenance in it, then that's a sign you have to work harder to find a way to offload it onto someone lower down than you so you can have that friction-free life you're owed. That highlight reel of a life.

And so far, every part of S2 seems to play off and expand on this all without narrowing scope. Augh. Eargh. Ough.

I just can't get over that after years of reddit speculation about how MDR's work must be 3-D printing brains into clones and putting souls in goats or whatever it turns out to just be...rich people trying to find a way out of the human experience. subjugating one or two or six people you will never meet to an existence of pure suffering so you don't have to be inconvenienced or feel a negative emotion ever. it could never have been anything else

[chxnsgirl]

황현진 & 한지성 ─── pas de trois 3

♡ pairing ៸៸ ballet dancer!hyunjin x ballet dancer!jisung x afab!reader ៸៸ genre ៸៸ love triangle, ballet academy au៸៸ cw ៸៸ none, lmk if anything needs to be a warning !! ♡ synopsis ៸៸ in the world of ballet, every step is choreographed—but love never follows the script. what happens when you get accepted into the ballet academy of your dreams? MAKE SURE YOU READ PARTS ONE AND TWO FIRST (HERE & HERE) a/n ๑ new part hehe. r u guys excited for where the story is going? ♡ masterlist

after class, the tension from earlier still clung to the air like a thick fog. though everyone tried to act normal, there was an undeniable undercurrent of curiosity, especially regarding hyunjin’s sudden departure. you, celeste, yeji, and the rest of your group moved toward the cafeteria together, the low hum of conversation filling the hall.

“i still can’t believe she’s here,” yuqi muttered, stretching her arms above her head. “madeline picard. that’s insane.”

“i know,” lia added, adjusting the strap of her dance bag. “people would kill for the chance to work under her. this could be huge for whoever gets cast.”

your stomach twisted slightly at the thought. as incredible as the opportunity was, it was overshadowed by what happened earlier.

felix sighed. “hyunjin looked like he was ready to break something.”

minho, walking a step ahead, clicked his tongue. “tch. can’t really blame him, though.”

you stayed quiet, your mind still replaying the way hyunjin’s expression had darkened the second he saw her.

as you all passed by one of the smaller practice rooms, a voice caught your attention.

familiar. soft. and painfully sweet.

“…i’m really glad you’re back.”

the group instinctively slowed down, eyes flickering toward the cracked-open door. you exchanged a glance with yeji, who raised a brow.

it was madeline.

no one said anything, but your curiosity got the better of you. you edged slightly closer, just enough to peek through the small opening. inside, hyunjin stood with his arms crossed, his back facing you. madeline was a few feet away from him, her expression open and hopeful.

“i want you in manon,” she continued, taking a small step forward. “you know as well as i do that you’d be perfect for it. i can talk to emile—”

“no.”

hyunjin’s voice was cold, curt.

madeline blinked, clearly taken aback. “what?”

“i said no.” he shifted slightly, his jaw tight. “i don’t care what you want, madeline. i’m not interested.”

a beat of silence passed between them.

“i don’t understand,” she said softly. “this is everything you ever wanted—”

“what i wanted?” hyunjin let out a bitter scoff, finally turning to face her. his eyes were sharp, filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “that’s funny. because last i checked, what i wanted never mattered to you.”

madeline flinched, hurt flashing across her delicate features. “hyunjin…”

“you don’t get to waltz back in here and act like nothing happened,” he went on, his voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “you left. you made your choice.”

she exhaled, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “i didn’t want to leave you—”

“yeah?” hyunjin tilted his head, a humorless smirk playing on his lips. “well, you did. so congratulations.”

madeline’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something—maybe to argue, maybe to apologize—but nothing came out.

another tense silence.

hyunjin shook his head, running a hand along his hair. his shoulders were stiff, his entire body seemingly wound tight with frustration. “just drop it, madeline. i’m not doing your ballet.”

and with that, he turned on his heel, walking toward the door.

your heart nearly stopped.

panic surged through you as you quickly grabbed yeji’s wrist, yanking her forward. “let’s go,” you whispered urgently, making a beeline for the hallway. the rest of the group scrambled after you, pretending as if they hadn’t just been eavesdropping.

just as you rounded the corner, you heard the practice room door swing open behind you.

you didn’t dare look back.

the dining hall was buzzing with conversation as you and your friends made your way to your usual table, trays in hand. despite the lively atmosphere, there was an unspoken weight hanging between you all—everyone was thinking about what they had just overheard.

celeste was the first to break the silence, stabbing her fork into her salad. “well, that was… intense.”

“no kidding,” yeji murmured, picking at her food. “i didn’t expect madeline to waltz in here and act like nothing happened.”

“she has some nerve,” yuqi huffed, leaning back in her chair. “did you hear her? ‘i’m glad you’re back, hyunjin’—as if she didn’t rip his heart out and stomp on it.”

lia glanced at you, sensing the way you were quietly processing everything. “what do you think?”

you hesitated, twirling your fork against your plate. “i don’t know. she sounded… sincere.”

yeji raised a brow. “you believe her?”

“i didn’t say that,” you corrected quickly. “i just mean… what if she really does regret everything? maybe she’s trying to make amends.”

celeste scoffed. “even if she is, that doesn’t mean hyunjin has to forgive her. did you see the way he stormed out? he looked pissed.”

your stomach twisted at the memory of his tense shoulders and clenched jaw as he left the room. you’d never seen him like that before.

minho and the guys walked over then, their trays clattering onto the table as they sat down. “you all look like someone died,” minho remarked, taking a sip of his drink.

felix sighed. “we’re talking about madeline and hyunjin.”

jisung, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since joining, finally spoke up. “i mean, can you really blame him for being mad?” his voice was unusually firm. “she broke his heart, and now she’s back like nothing happened, expecting him to be in her ballet? it’s messed up.”

you blinked, a little surprised at the bitterness in his tone. “you really don’t think people can change?”

jisung’s eyes flickered to yours for a second before he shrugged. “i think some people don’t deserve a second chance.”

the statement lingered between you both, heavier than it should have been. you couldn’t shake the feeling that jisung wasn’t just talking about madeline and hyunjin.

felix exhaled, stretching back in his seat. “either way, this is going to make things messy. if hyunjin refuses to dance in manon, they’re gonna need a replacement.”

minho smirked. “guess that means one of us might have a shot at the lead role.”

your stomach twisted again. another ballet meant another chance for you, but it also meant working under madeline.

and worse—if hyunjin really did refuse, it meant watching someone else stand where he was supposed to be.

would you be okay with that? would he?

as you poked at your food, your thoughts drifted back to hyunjin’s face before he stormed out. the anger, the pain beneath it.

after lunch, while the others lingered in the dining hall, chatting about class and upcoming auditions, you found yourself walking in the opposite direction—toward the quieter, more secluded practice rooms.

you weren’t entirely sure why.

maybe it was the way he had stormed out earlier, anger carved into every sharp movement. maybe it was the way jisung’s words at lunch lingered in your head—some people don’t deserve a second chance.

or maybe it was something simpler.

maybe you just wanted to see him.

the hallway was empty as you approached one of the smaller studios, the faint sound of music playing from inside. the door was slightly ajar, and when you peeked in, you saw him.

hyunjin sat on the floor, his back against the mirror, his long legs stretched out in front of him. his phone lay discarded beside him, and a half-empty water bottle rested near his hand. his expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed downward, lost in thought.

you hesitated before pushing the door open further. “hey.”

his head lifted slightly at your voice. for a moment, he didn’t say anything—just looked at you, as if debating whether he wanted company. but then, with a sigh, he nodded toward the floor beside him. “you can sit, if you want.”

you stepped inside, letting the door close behind you, and sank down beside him. the room smelled faintly of wood polish and sweat, the air thick with lingering tension.

a beat of silence passed. then another.

finally, you spoke. “you left pretty fast.”

hyunjin let out a dry chuckle, tilting his head back against the mirror. “yeah, well. not really in the mood for a reunion.”

you studied him carefully. the hyunjin sitting next to you wasn’t the confident, teasing guy you had come to know. he wasn’t the flirt, the golden boy of the company. he looked… tired. guarded.

“she said she’s glad you’re back,” you murmured.

his jaw clenched. “yeah. funny, isn’t it?”

you hesitated before asking, “do you believe her?”

hyunjin exhaled sharply through his nose, running a along his hair. “i don’t know,” he admitted. “i don’t know what she wants. but i do know that i can’t just pretend nothing happened.”

you nodded slowly, tracing invisible patterns on the floor with your fingers. “and the ballet? manon?”

he scoffed. “i don’t know about that either. she really thinks i’d want to be in her production?”

“she might just want to work with you because you’re talented.”

he turned his head slightly, his gaze locking with yours. “or she just wants control over me again.”

the weight behind his words settled deep in your chest. you didn’t know the full details of their past, but you knew enough to understand why he’d be wary.

“i don’t think she deserves that power,” you said softly.

hyunjin’s lips twitched into a small, humorless smile. “yeah?”

you nodded. “yeah.”

for the first time since you sat down, the tightness in his shoulders seemed to ease. he let out a slow breath, tilting his head back again. “thanks,” he murmured.

the silence that followed wasn’t as heavy as before. it was comfortable.

after a moment, he nudged your knee with his. “you didn’t have to come find me, you know.”

“i know.”

he turned to look at you again, his dark eyes searching yours. “but you did.”

your pulse skipped. there was something about the way he said it—like he was trying to figure you out, like he wanted to understand why you cared.

you held his gaze, the space between you suddenly feeling smaller, the air warmer. but before either of you could say anything else, the door creaked open.

both of you turned as emile poked his head in. “ah, there you are, hyunjin.” his eyes flickered to you briefly, but he didn’t comment on it. “come with me. we need to talk.”

hyunjin’s expression shifted instantly—back to the mask, the composed dancer, the golden boy. he stood up, brushing his hands over his pants before glancing back at you.

“i’ll see you later,” he said, and this time, his voice was a little softer.

you nodded, watching as he followed emile out of the room.

and as you sat there alone, you realized something.

even with all the uncertainty surrounding hyunjin and madeline—about whether or not he would take the role, about what she really wanted—there was one thing you knew for sure.

you weren’t just starstruck by him anymore.

you cared.

maybe more than you should.

hyunjin followed emile down the hall in silence, his jaw tight as he braced himself for whatever was coming. the older man’s office was tucked away in the administrative wing of the building, away from the main practice rooms. when they arrived, emile pushed open the door, motioning for hyunjin to step inside.

the office was neat, as always—stacks of neatly arranged papers on the desk, a single framed photo of a past production hanging on the wall. the windows let in soft afternoon light, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor.

emile shut the door behind them and turned, folding his arms as he studied hyunjin.

“you want to tell me what that was about?” his voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

hyunjin exhaled sharply through his nose. “i don’t think it needs explaining.”

emile arched a brow. “walking out on class? storming out like a child? that’s not the hyunjin i know.”

hyunjin’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “i’m not a child. but i also don’t have to sit there and pretend everything is fine.”

“no one’s asking you to pretend,” emile countered. “but you are expected to act like a professional. you think you can just walk out on class because you don’t like the guest director?”

hyunjin let out a dry laugh. “i don’t just not like her, emile.”

“i know.” emile’s voice softened, if only slightly. “i know the history. i understand why you’re upset. but personal grievances or not, madeline picard is directing manon. and you—” he pointed a firm finger at hyunjin “—are going to be the male lead.”

hyunjin’s brows shot up. “excuse me?”

emile walked around his desk, leaning against it. “you heard me.”

“no.” hyunjin scoffed. “no way. you can’t be serious.”

“i’m very serious.”

hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. “you want me to be her lead?” he let out a humorless laugh. “after everything?”

“yes.” emile’s tone left no room for argument. “you are the most talented dancer in this company, hyunjin. the best. no one else comes close.”

hyunjin clenched his jaw. he knew he was good—he had worked himself to the bone to be where he was. but this?

“you expect me to just go along with this like it’s any other role?”

“i expect you to see the bigger picture.” emile straightened. “you being the male lead isn’t just about you. this is a workshop. if we have you in manon, every girl here will want to audition. it raises the stakes. it guarantees a better cast. and it keeps this company’s reputation exactly where it needs to be.”

hyunjin’s hands twitched at his sides. “so i don’t have a choice.”

emile sighed, rubbing his temples. “i’m not forcing you, hyunjin. but i am telling you to be smart about this. don’t let your feelings cloud your judgment.”

hyunjin stayed silent, his thoughts racing.

emile watched him carefully before speaking again. “take the night to think about it.” he turned back to his desk, signaling the conversation was over. “but i expect an answer tomorrow.”

hyunjin scoffed under his breath, shaking his head as he turned toward the door. he yanked it open, stepping out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him.

his mind was a whirlwind.

madeline wanted him in her ballet. and emile wanted him to agree—for the sake of the company, for the sake of the production.

but could he really do it?

the cafeteria hummed with life—students talking animatedly, utensils clinking against plates, and the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the space. you sat with celeste, yeji, and jisung, half-listening to their conversation while your mind drifted to the looming auditions.

then, yeji abruptly nudged your arm. “look.”

your head snapped up just in time to see hyunjin weaving through the cafeteria, heading toward a table near the center. sitting there, poised and elegant, was none other than madeline picard.

your stomach twisted.

celeste raised a brow. “didn’t he storm out of class the second he saw her yesterday?”

jisung crossed his arms, watching closely. “yeah. so why is he voluntarily going up to her now?”

the four of you fell into silence, your gazes locked on the interaction unfolding across the room. hyunjin stopped beside madeline’s table, hands in his pockets. she glanced up at him, her lips parting slightly in surprise before she smirked.

hyunjin said something, his expression unreadable. madeline tilted her head, twirling her fork between her fingers as she listened.

your fingers tightened around the edge of your tray.

a few heads in the cafeteria turned, clearly noticing the two as well. it wasn’t every day that two of the most well-known dancers in the academy shared a conversation—especially not with the history they had.

then, to everyone’s surprise, hyunjin pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

yeji’s eyes widened. “okay, now i really want to know what they’re talking about.”

you did too. and a part of you—the irrational, insecure part—hated that he was sitting with her at all.

as if sensing your gaze, hyunjin briefly glanced in your direction. but before you could decipher the look in his eyes, he returned his focus to madeline, speaking again.

hyunjin leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but firm. “i’ve decided.”

madeline arched a delicate brow. “oh?”

“i’ll do it,” he said. “i’ll be the male lead in manon.”

a pleased smile ghosted across her lips. “i knew you’d come around.”

hyunjin’s expression didn’t change. “i’m not doing this for you.”

madeline chuckled softly, unfazed. “of course not.”

he exhaled through his nose, then leaned back against his chair. “there’s something else.”

she tilted her head. “go on.”

hyunjin didn’t return the sentiment. he was here for business, nothing more. “i want to talk about the female lead.”

madeline arched a delicate brow, folding her arms. “oh?”

hyunjin scooted closer. “i know you probably already have names in mind, but i think you should seriously consider someone.” he held her gaze. “y/n.”

madeline blinked, clearly not expecting that. “y/n?”

“yes.” his voice was firm. “she’s the best fit for the role.”

madeline hummed, mulling over his words. “she’s talented,” she admitted. “but she’s young. inexperienced.”

“so was i, once,” hyunjin countered. “that never stopped you from choosing me.”

she exhaled a soft laugh. “you always were ambitious.”

“she’s good, madeline,” he insisted. “and you want this ballet to be the best it can be, right?” he met her gaze pointedly. “she’s the one you should cast.”

madeline studied him for a long moment, then a knowing smile played on her lips. “you care about her.”

hyunjin’s jaw tightened. “that’s not the point.”

“isn’t it?” she leaned in closer, searching his expression. “you never put in a word for anyone before. not even when we were together.”

his expression remained unreadable. “i’m telling you she’s the right choice.”

madeline watched him carefully before exhaling softly, her arms falling to her sides. “i’ll think about it,” she finally said.

“that’s all i ask.”

hyunjin didn’t wait for anything else. he turned on his heel and strode toward the cafeteria doors.

as he passed your table, madeline called out, her voice soft but certain.

“it’s nice to have you back, hyunjin.”

he paused, but he didn’t respond.

instead, he started walking again, staying on his path to the door.

the atmosphere in the studio hallway was thick with anticipation. dancers huddled in clusters, whispering in nervous excitement as they waited. every few seconds, someone stole a glance toward the door, where miss cassandra was expected to emerge with the casting results.

the wait felt excruciating. you stood with yeji and celeste, your stomach churning with a mixture of hope and dread. jisung was nearby, hands shoved in his pockets, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

finally, the door creaked open, and miss cassandra stepped out, holding a crisp white sheet of paper. the hallway fell into a hush as she walked toward the bulletin board, each click of her heels echoing off the walls. without a word, she smoothed the paper against the corkboard and pinned it in place.

"congratulations to all," she said, glancing over the anxious crowd. "rehearsals begin tomorrow. make sure you’re prepared."

the moment she stepped away, the crowd surged forward. bodies pressed together as everyone strained to see their fate.

you inhaled sharply, pushing through with yeji and celeste at your side. your fingers trembled as your eyes darted across the list, scanning frantically until they landed on your name.

manon

manon – your name

des grieux – hyunjin hwang

des grieux understudy / supporting role – jisung han

the words blurred for a moment as your breath hitched. your heart pounded against your ribs. you blinked, making sure you weren’t imagining it. your name. next to hyunjin’s.

a soft gasp escaped your lips. yeji, reading over your shoulder, shrieked. "oh my god! you got the lead!"

celeste let out a triumphant laugh. "i knew it! i knew you would!"

your body felt light, almost detached from reality. this was it—this was everything you’d been dreaming of.

yeji quickly found her own name under another ballet. "yes!" she cheered, grabbing minho’s arm. "we got the lead together!"

celeste beamed as she pointed at her own role. "felix, we’re partners."

laughter and celebration erupted around you, but your eyes instinctively searched for jisung. you found him a few steps away, his gaze locked on the list. his expression was unreadable at first, but then his jaw tensed. his shoulders sagged just slightly.

you swallowed hard.

"jisung..." you said softly, stepping toward him.

he turned, schooling his features into something neutral. "hey," he said, forcing a small smile. "congrats."

you hesitated. "i… i thought you would get a lead."

he shrugged, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "i guess they thought i was better suited for supporting." he let out a small, humorless chuckle. "and an understudy. in case hyunjin suddenly forgets how to dance."

you frowned, guilt gnawing at you. "you deserve more than that."

"it’s fine," he said quickly, waving it off. "i’ll still be in the ballet. it’s not the end of the world." but his voice lacked conviction.

your stomach twisted. you knew how much this meant to him. he was always so confident, so lively—but now, he looked… small.

before you could say anything else, movement in the crowd caught your eye. hyunjin stood off to the side, leaning casually against the wall, watching the reactions unfold. his expression was unreadable, but when his eyes met yours, he gave you a slow, knowing smile.

your breath hitched. this was real. you were going to be partners.

jisung followed your gaze and exhaled through his nose. "looks like you and hyunjin will be spending a lot of time together," he said, his tone light but laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

you turned back to him, unsure of what to say. but before you could respond, emile clapped his hands, calling for attention.

"congratulations to everyone," he announced. "rehearsals start tomorrow. bring your best, because i expect nothing less than perfection."

the hallway buzzed with chatter, but a strange unease settled in your chest.

this was everything you had worked for. so why did it feel like something wasn’t quite right?

the rehearsal studio was alive with movement, dancers stretching, adjusting their shoes, and murmuring about the newly assigned roles. the atmosphere was thick with anticipation, the weight of their new responsibilities settling on their shoulders.

you stood near the center of the room, nervously adjusting the straps of your leotard. this was it—your first rehearsal as the lead in manon. your heart thudded against your ribcage as you stole a glance at hyunjin. he was across the room, tying the ribbons of his pointe shoes, his expression unreadable.

“all right, everyone, places,” madeline’s voice cut through the chatter, and the room quickly fell silent. she stood at the front with a clipboard in hand, her sharp eyes flicking between you and hyunjin. “we’ll begin with the first pas de deux. let’s see what we’re working with.”

you swallowed hard as hyunjin finally met your gaze. he smirked, pushing himself up from his seat before sauntering over to you. he moved with the kind of effortless grace you had always admired—and envied.

“nervous?” he murmured as he came to stand beside you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

you straightened your posture, refusing to let him get under your skin. “no.”

hyunjin chuckled under his breath. “you’re a bad liar.”

madeline clapped her hands once. “we’ll start with the lift.”

your stomach twisted. the lift.

it was one of the most challenging parts of the duet—hyunjin would have to sweep you off your feet and spin you before carefully lowering you into his arms. you had rehearsed lifts before, but never with him.

he extended a hand toward you, waiting. you hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing your palm in his. his fingers curled around yours, firm but careful.

“just relax,” he murmured as he stepped closer. his free hand slid to your waist, fingers pressing lightly into your side. you shivered under his touch, the warmth of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of your leotard.

you barely had time to process the closeness before he moved.

with practiced ease, hyunjin lifted you into the air, his grip unwavering. for a fleeting moment, you felt weightless, suspended between the ground and his arms. but then—

“too stiff,” madeline’s voice rang out, making you flinch. “loosen up, (y/n). trust him.”

you barely registered the way hyunjin’s lips quirked into a knowing smirk.

“trust me,” he echoed, his voice dripping with amusement.

heat rose to your cheeks, but you nodded. you let yourself relax, allowing your body to mold against his movements. this time, the lift was smoother, more natural. when he lowered you into his arms, his face was just inches from yours, his breath ghosting against your cheek.

for a moment, it felt like the world around you disappeared. his dark eyes locked onto yours, and there was something unreadable in them—something that made your pulse race.

madeline’s voice shattered the moment. “better. again.”

hyunjin let out a low chuckle before pulling away, but not before his fingers lingered on your waist for just a second too long.

you exhaled shakily. this was going to be a long rehearsal.

the studio was nearly empty now. most of the dancers had filed out, murmuring about their aching muscles and plans for the evening. jisung sat on the wooden floor, untying his pointe shoes with more force than necessary.

felix plopped down beside him, stretching his legs out with a sigh. “man, that was brutal.”

jisung let out a dry laugh. “yeah.”

brutal was one word for it. torturous was another.

he had spent the entire rehearsal watching you in his arms. watching the way hyunjin’s hands traced over your waist, the way he lifted you with ease, the way your body followed his lead like you had done this a hundred times before.

and the worst part? the way you looked at hyunjin.

jisung had seen that look before—had seen it in your eyes when you talked about how talented hyunjin was, how much you admired him. but seeing it up close, right in front of him? it stung in a way he hadn’t been prepared for.

felix nudged his knee. “you okay?”

jisung exhaled sharply, dropping his shoes into his bag. “yeah. just—” he stopped, raking a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “it’s just hard to watch, you know?”

felix’s expression softened. “yeah, i know.”

jisung leaned back against the mirror, staring up at the ceiling. “i mean, i get it. hyunjin’s a good dancer, and they need chemistry for the ballet to work, but…” his voice trailed off as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “it’s not just the dancing. she likes him.”

felix was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “and you like her.”

jisung let out a bitter laugh. “yeah. and it sucks.”

felix studied him, his blue eyes thoughtful. “why don’t you just tell her?”

jisung opened his mouth, then shut it.

tell you? now?

the words sat heavy on his tongue, pressing against the back of his throat. he imagined pulling you aside after rehearsal, imagined the way your eyes would widen as he finally said the words that had been burning inside him for months.

i like you. more than a friend should.

but then he thought about hyunjin. about the way you had smiled at him during practice, about the way your body fit so effortlessly against his.

jisung clenched his jaw.

“it’s not that easy,” he muttered.

felix raised an eyebrow. “why not?”

jisung let out a slow breath, running a hand down his face. “because i don’t want to make things harder for her. she’s already got so much going on. and besides…” his voice dropped slightly. “she’s already looking at someone else.”

felix frowned but didn’t argue.

jisung pushed himself to his feet, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “it’s fine. i just need to get over it.”

felix stood as well, crossing his arms. “yeah? and how’s that going for you?”

jisung laughed, but there was no humor in it. “terribly.”

with one last glance at the empty studio, he turned on his heel and walked out, felix trailing behind him.

and as much as jisung wanted to convince himself that he could move on, that he could just let his feelings fade, he knew the truth.

he was in too deep.

and watching you with hyunjin was going to break him.

the studio was alive with movement, the grand mirrors reflecting every extension, every pirouette, every carefully rehearsed moment of passion. it had been a few weeks since rehearsals for manon began, and by now, you had expected to feel a deeper sense of connection with your partner. but something was off.

hyunjin had changed.

you noticed it in the way he carried himself—his steps were still precise, still beautiful, but there was something missing. the hyunjin you once knew, the one who made every touch, every glance electric, had started to dull. he barely looked at you when you danced together, his hands settling on your waist or wrist only when necessary, never lingering. his presence had once been magnetic, but now, he felt distant, cold.

even now, as you moved through a particularly intimate scene, you could feel it. the moment required a delicate interplay of emotions—love, desperation, longing. but hyunjin’s grip was detached, his gaze unfocused. when his hand brushed against your cheek, the touch was empty, mechanical, nothing like the heat you used to feel from him.

“hyunjin,” you whispered under your breath as you moved through the steps, hoping to catch his attention, to draw him back in.

he didn’t respond.

your stomach twisted as you fought through the rest of the sequence, trying not to let his detachment throw you off.

jisung was watching. you caught the flicker of his eyes from across the studio, his expression unreadable. he was warming up with the other dancers, but his attention kept drifting toward you and hyunjin.

madeline clapped her hands, signaling the end of the run-through. “alright, take a five-minute break before we go again,” she instructed.

hyunjin dropped his hands from you immediately, not even sparing you a glance before turning away. he grabbed his water bottle and moved toward the back of the room, running a hand along his hair in frustration.

you took a deep breath, stepping away as well. that was when jisung approached, his towel slung over his shoulder. “you okay?”

you hesitated before answering. “yeah, i just…” you glanced in hyunjin’s direction, watching as he wiped sweat from his brow, his posture tense, his expression dark. “…i don’t know what’s going on with him.”

jisung’s jaw tensed, and he let out a small scoff, though it wasn’t directed at you. “i could take a wild guess.”

your brows knitted together. “what do you mean?”

jisung sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. he hesitated, as if debating whether to speak his mind. his eyes flickered toward hyunjin, who was leaning against the mirror with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“look, i don’t know exactly what’s going on with him,” jisung admitted, lowering his voice. “but it’s obvious he’s… different.” he glanced at you again, his gaze searching. “and you’ve noticed it too.”

you swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. of course you had noticed. but hearing it from someone else made it feel more real.

jisung shifted his stance, gripping his towel a little tighter. “maybe he���s just stressed. maybe it’s the pressure of the lead role. or…” he paused, exhaling sharply. “maybe it’s something else.”

“like what?” you pressed, your heartbeat picking up.

he hesitated again, his lips parting like he was about to say something important—but then, at the last second, he clamped his mouth shut. instead, he shook his head, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“forget it,” he muttered. “it’s not my place.”

the words left a bitter taste in his mouth, but what was he supposed to say? ‘it kills him to watch you care so much about hyunjin when he can’t even see what he has? that he can’t stand watching hyunjin push you away while he’d do anything to be in his place?’

no. he couldn’t say that.

instead, he forced a light chuckle, nudging your arm. “just… don’t let him ruin this for you, okay? you deserve to enjoy this.”

before you could respond, madeline’s voice rang out, calling everyone back. jisung shot you one last look—something lingering in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite place—before stepping away.

you turned back toward hyunjin, but he still wasn’t looking at you.

and for the first time since rehearsals started, you felt a sinking feeling settle in your stomach.

the theater buzzed with quiet anticipation, the dim glow of backstage lights casting long shadows on the walls. you slipped past a few crew members, carefully navigating your way to the side of the stage, where you could catch a glimpse of hyunjin without disrupting the performance.

you had thought about this all day—how you wanted to surprise him, show your support, and remind him that you were here for him. lately, something had been off. you weren’t blind to it. but maybe he just needed reassurance. maybe he just needed to know you still cared.

your heart pounded as your eyes landed on him. there he was, in his element, his body moving with the kind of precision and grace that left audiences breathless. he looked stunning under the stage lights, his expression intense as he danced alongside his partner, completely immersed in the performance.

for a moment, you forgot about everything else. his coldness, the distance he had put between you—it all melted away as you watched him, captivated.

and then, as he turned with a flourish, his gaze flickered toward the wings. toward you.

your breath hitched.

but instead of surprise or warmth flashing across his face, his expression hardened. his movements didn’t falter, but the second he exited the stage for a quick costume change, you saw him make a beeline in your direction.

“hyunjin!” you whispered excitedly, but the look in his eyes stopped you short.

his jaw was tight, and his face was unreadable as he towered over you, his skin glistening with sweat. “why are you here?” his voice was low, clipped.

the coldness in his tone stung. you blinked, taken aback. “i— i wanted to surprise you,” you said softly, forcing a small smile. “i thought you’d be happy.”

his lips pressed into a thin line. “you shouldn’t be backstage,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. “i’m in the middle of a performance.”

you frowned. “i know, i just—”

“look, i don’t have time for this.” he cut you off, already moving past you. “enjoy the show, alright?”

and just like that, he disappeared back into the flurry of stagehands and dancers, leaving you standing there, stunned.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to brush off the interaction. maybe he was just in performance mode. maybe he was just tired, overwhelmed. that had to be it.

you shook off the uneasy feeling in your gut and made your way to the front of the theater, deciding to wait for him after the show. surely, once it was over, he’d explain. he’d apologize for being short with you, and everything would be fine.

right?

the performance ended, and the applause thundered through the theater. you waited by the stage door, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

and then, after what felt like forever, the door finally swung open.

hyunjin emerged, still in his stage makeup, his hair slightly damp with sweat. but he wasn’t alone.

your stomach dropped.

a girl followed close behind him, giggling at something he said. she was beautiful, elegant, with long, toned legs that told you she was likely another dancer.

you stiffened, gripping the strap of your bag tightly. he didn’t even notice you standing there.

didn’t even look for you.

your breath caught in your throat as you watched him place a hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit.

he walked right past you.

your chest tightened, a lump forming in your throat.

you opened your mouth to say something—anything—but no words came out.

and just like that, hyunjin disappeared into the night with her, leaving you standing alone in the cold.

taglist: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin @tirena1 @nickgurl4life @geni-627

series taglist: @estella-novella @stayjinnie @wavetohannie @jehhskz @thecutiepieme @rousslut @mariteez @yeetmehome @stay3096 @akindaflora ♡

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[mulderscully]

Momentarily breaking my hiatus to further discuss the issue with the new collector edition of RWRB and why Casey's response (or lack therof) is disappointing.

Here is a link to the post I made detailing what is going on. Please read if if you are unaware.

Now, a direct quote from RWRB,

"And I'm not white like she is, can't even pass for it. People are always gonna come down harder on me."

Casey wrote these lines in the book so if they ever made a film/tv show they did not cast a white passing person to play Alex. This statement is in the annotated version of RWRB that you can look up online.

I want to discuss what being white passing means. I am a white passing latina. I have direct family members who are not white passing. My DNA just worked in a way where you see my Spanish ancestry more than my African or Native, but I have all three. Because of this, I benefit from white privilege.

However, it is important to keep in mind that passing as white now sometimes does not mean what it did historically. White passing means you can pass as white so that racist white people will not deny you certain opportunities based on your ethnicity or race. It was and sometimes still is something POC choose to do. For example, Oscar Isaac uses a passing stage name. Choose to pass. It is a denial of part of who you are to further your endeavors in a world built of oppression. Now it also means someone may look at you simply assume you are white, but that is NOT all that it means.

And even I, with my pale skin, sometimes say "I know I'm white passing." and immediately have (usually white) people say something like "No, you're not. I immediately knew you were latina when I saw you."

Now, I take people recognizing me as latine as a positive. It makes me happy because I am proud of my identity. But there is the other aspect of me not being as passing as I think I am, even though my skin tone is really light. A racist "real" white person would still descrimate against me because my blood is not "pure."

I'm mentioning this because I have seen multiple people say that the art inside this edition is fine, because Taylor Zakhar Perez is white passing.

Taylor is not white passing.

He has talked multiple times his difficultly in getting roles, the moment in the movie where he discusses prejudice against latinos is from personal experience between him and Matthew. I want you to understand that it is not only about Taylor being brown or not brown enough to play Alex, it's about his name, it's about his facial feature — his warm skin tone, but also the shape of his beautiful nose amongst other things — that make it clear that he is a man of color. Looking at Taylor, it is clear that he is a latino man with middle eastern and mediterranean ancestry as well.

But this isn't even about Taylor because we are talking about the book.

In the political world a character like Alex would never ever be mistaken for white. Alex probably never is unaware that he isn't fully white. That is what "can't even pass for it." means. It means since his mother became president, everyone knows her kid is Mexican, is brown, is not what is considered "white." by US American standards.

Remember, latino is not a race. Colorism is rampant. And since Alex is half white he is probably lighter than other latinos, esp afrolatinos, as we see on the original pink cover of RWRB. He's clearly darker than Henry there, though!

In the two arts Casey approved and endorsed not only is his skin tone various shades lighter than TZP's in the one that used his likeness, but he is given european features in the other as well. They chose to sell a book — for $80 — where Alex is drawn as white/white passing when the entire reason they wrote that line was to avoid something like this happening.

For over a week now fans (mainly latinos) have been imploring Casey to say something about this, because it's very unlike them to do this — but they haven't. This is upsetting because Casey is not latine. Not white latine either. Not latine AT ALL. If you are writing a character that is part of a community you are not a part of you have to show up for that community to the best of your ability.

At a time like this, Casey's behavior is really disappointing and the only person to blame is Casey for that. Not Taylor's casting. Casey for approving this edition and promoting it on their Instagram.

I think it was probably a fuck up, and now they're frozen and unsure how to handle it. I like Casey, I LOVE their books and think they seem like a good person. But this has opened some discussions that I think are being mishandled in various ways.

I'm logging off again for a bit, but I wanted to share my feelings on this a week out. Take care everyone 🩷

[chainelunaire]

Hi, can you write a virgin Dabi headcanon? Or like his reaction to getting his first blowjob by the reader?

(this is kinda heavy and not smutty at all)

dabi's so repulsed by the idea of sex, it's funny (it's very much not).

growing up in a home where he had not witnessed gentle heartwarming love between his parents, then being traumatized by near death experience, which then resulted in a constant body horror in every sense of the word, and Then for years trying to survive on streets while simultaniously keep training hard - yeah, i think he kind of haven't had enough time or energy for anything other than his Great Goal.

(from here i believe it can go two ways, one him being so closed off physically, and the other is for another post, if ever interested)

his mind is set on revenge, his entire soul is dedicated to a great cause, and while this all is true, it is also true that he clearly understands how scary (read, ugly in the eyes of others) he looks. he lives in this new body designed for him specifically not so long, yet he already knows every little disgusting detail about it, and every day he's finding a new one. deep deep inside he is terrified to the core. not only is he experiencing a major body dismorphia issues, but this also comes with a fact that this body was quite literally sewed together, replacing the burnt parts with flesh he doesn't want to ever question where came from. this body fails him every day. he lost his nails not once, but many times. he expericenced almost every infection known to mankind due to constantly open wounds. he frequently steals clothes, because they end up getting stained, in some parts slimy, and he's a clean freak, he kind of needs to be to survive. once he left a small piece of his ear on a pillow in one of lov's hideouts and was freaking out after. because the police could figure out his identity (not quite, he later realised, since they were not really his ears), and because he was really fond of the lost earring. compress later gifted him a new one. you get the picture.

he himself made the decision to cut off anything that will bring him any pleasure in life (sex included). it's a plethora of reasons why he doesn't want any of it, the main being is that of course, he doesn't believe anyone would genuinely want him in that way, and the second one, very vulnerable and naive, is that he realises that that will make everything harder for him. he's living this life on a hell mode already, he doesn't really need any more disappointment. so he build his later life so that it would be easy for him to let go in the end. and believing that someone found him attractive enough to have sex with him without any ulterior motives would make it harder (not that it'd ever happen, of course!). he's smart enough to understand that.

so he, of course, has much more important business going, and so you know - he's not interested. no one would be interested in that. no one in their right mind would want that, because there's nothing to want.

and you would think it'll take forever for him to fall for you, but it's easier than it seems. him still being that depending on what others think of him, still wanting the so long delayed approval and attention, it really won't take much of you for him to like you. he's so sensitive to kindness, especially when it's not towards him personally (that would make him alarmed, if anything) but rather casual small things, it really does something to his hardened heart. make no mistake, him liking you does not equal trusting you, that's a different story for another time. for now, he tries to hide it and he does it really well. so well in fact that for a long time you're quite sure that he wants you dead. he kind of does. but he still likes you.

fast forward to the subject of sex: he tries his best to avoid it at any cost. by that time, being in a relationship and trusting you enough to simply entertain the thought of it, he still thinks it's better if he dies on the spot rather than try. all of his insecurities come alive and well the exact time he thought he got rid of them.

the thing is, he doesn't necessarily want sex in itself, but he surely wants love. he wants to be loved so much and to him you seeing his body and running away in horror is a very real fear. he knows he won't be able to survive this, his mind would be completely broken. he's self-aware enough to understand that even knowing he's not the most sane person in the room. he will be able to live without sex, he was living like that and he was fine, but he won't be able to move on if he'll see the disgust on your face. if you'll find out what he truly is, it will crush him.

he will make it incredibly hard for you. he doesn't want to be a walking emotional rolling coaster, but he can't help it. he's terrified. one day he thinks that it's not a big deal let's go and later in the evening he'd disappear for a week. one moment he kind of wants to catch up and at least learn something on the matter and second later after opening the first link on google he's embarrased, disgusted and wants to set himeslf aflame. in general, he kind of wants to cry the whole time. he's angry at his dad, his mom, psychos that sewed him together, you, who's still by his side being annoyingly patient, but most importantly, he's mad at himself. he's already doing great mental gymnastics in favor of his own life, which he hadn't consider his for more than a decade. turns out, it could be very painful to realise how much you were robbed of, even after claiming for years that you didn't even want it.

needless to say, it'll take more than one shot for you, but eventually he will come around, probably on a random tuesday. tries to be nonchalant about it, but he is so chalant actually. after so much talking about everything he was capable of muster, after so much reassuring and constant showing of love and respect, he could one day wake up and suddenly realise that that fear while not fully gone, but he's at least capable of trying through it. you always knew he would be a sweetheart, him, however? not so sure.

in the end, you are right.

by that time, he's a lot more calm and collected. tells you to be serious and stop giggling, his ears red as a flame when you start laughing full chest - sometimes you are nervous too, he realised later in your relationship, even though he still doesn't understand why, anyone would want you. learnt to accept the fact that complete darkness won't save him in the end, but still asks for a very dim light. he doesn't really care about himself, but he tried to learn more so it would be good for you at least. compensates the lack of experience with observing every reaction he can get out of you (and he has a mental list from all the time before too). he's slow - because he's shy and inexperienced and afraid, - annoyingly so, but he's surprisingly precise and selfless. he would never be rough, especially the first time. needs gentle encouragement, which is perfect - not only he gets to hear your voice more, but his thinly veiled praise kink is enjoying the attention too. cracks some joke about begging the god not to lose his second earring in the middle of it, and you actually laugh so hard he needs to stop because now he's laughing too. the whole time not once has he found in your eyes something he was so afraid of finding. you look at him with nothing but love and adoration, hold his face in your hands, your palms warm and soft and tender, and his chest is tight with pain and with the lightness of it all. at some point he thinks that he really was right, it was easier to just die than to experience it all. he wants to cry, again. he can't really explain why, so he lays in your arms silently, letting you hold him, caress his hair and skin until you fall asleep. it will take all of his willpower not to run away in the middle of the night, he stays because he doesn't want to hurt you like that.

interestingly enough, in the morning without doing anything at all he feels significantly better. he can't help but smile when he enters the kitchen, seeing you preparing the breakfast and brewing hot black coffee. none of you mention the night before, yet you both are smiling at each other when you start to eat.

in this scenario, he'll need quite some time and hard work to only warm up about the idea of a blowjob. he'll forever be disgusted of the body he's currently living in, the best he can hope is to grow neutral about it, which is very real possibility with time. yet, he probably realises he's not ready to take this step now. he's not even sure if he ever will.

[crunchesloudly]

🥀Ink Stained Petals🥀

A Hermit tattoo/plant shop socmed au-

Part 9:

-

Cleo’s never felt so nervous.

As she walks down the street towards Moss Magic she keeps her eyes on her phone, unread messages staring back at her.

Her boyfriend is not one to ignore her. She knows something must have happened in order for him to act this way. His cryptic tweet solidified this theory even more.

Opening the door, both Lizzie and Pearl’s heads whip towards her. Their eyes wide with worry and fear.

“Cleo!”

It’s Lizzie who speaks first

“You need to talk to him. He went in there with Etho and then when he left he locked the door and told us to go away!”

They fear if they speak right now it won’t be anything helpful, all the anxiety bubbling inside them threatens to be released in a less than kind way. She chooses to save their words for Bdubs.

Nodding they walk forwards towards the office, she raises her hand to knock.

“Go away Lizzie!”

Her brow furrows, chancing a glance behind her the other two simply look back at them with sad expressions.

“It’s not Lizzie. It’s Cleo. Can I come in?”

There’s a moment of quiet and then shuffling footsteps and the click of a lock. Cleo takes this as an invitation and opens the door.

They are met with a beautifully decorated office lush with plants and fairy lights.

It screams Bdubs.

Speaking of Bdubs, the man himself is sitting on the couch that takes residence by the office window. He is staring out of it with a look of contemplation on his face.

“Hey Dubs.”

He turns his head towards her, mouth fitted in a hard line. He looks so unlike himself at this moment. Bdubs is always smiling and happy.

“He kissed me.”

This takes Cleo by surprise. They love their boyfriend more than anything but the man is anything but forward. It took Etho over a month to understand Cleo’s flirtatious advances.

Cleo walks over to the couch. Sitting on the opposite end she speaks.

“Did you not want him too?”

Bdubs face shifts, he sighs.

“Of course I wanted him too. I wanted him too so bad Cleo”

“So why did he run Dubs?”

Bdubs closes his eyes and leans his head against the back of the couch.

“He said he shouldn’t have done it and left as soon as it happened. He didn’t even take any of his freakin stuff with him!”

It’s then Cleo notices the pages of tattoo designs scattered across the table.

Designs she’s very familiar with as Etho has spent months perfecting them.

She reaches forward grabbing one of the sheets.

“Did he tell you about these?”

Raising his head and sitting up, a small smile appearing on his face, Bdubs grabs another sheet from the table.

“He was so nervous.”

He chuckles.

“He told me he’s been working on these for awhile and that he didn’t want me to feel pressured to actually get them tattooed but that he wanted me to at least have them.”

Cleo smiles.

Bdubs runs his fingers gently over one of the lines in the design he holds.

“I told him that they are so beautiful. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen him design before. He took his mask off. He was smiling so wide Cleo. I know I was staring.”

They look at each other. Cleo can see where this is going.

“And then he leaned in and kissed you right?”

“Yeah. At first I was shocked but I kissed him back. It lasted for a bit and then the second we broke apart he was gone.”

Cleo reaches forward and grabs Bdubs hand.

“He’s scared.”

Bdubs brow furrows.

“Why? I'm not gonna do anything he doesn’t want me to.”

“He’s scared because he loves you.”

Bdubs eyes widen almost comically.

“He-he does?”

They nod.

Bdubs looks down, not making eye contact, he asks.

“And. Um. Do you?”

Cleo smiles.

“Do I what Dubs?”

He looks up at her now.

“Do you love me as well?”

Her smile widens and she leans in closer.

“Bdubs. I'm so in love with you, Lizzie and Joel got so fed up with the pining they tried to make us jealous in order to get us all together.”

Bdubs begins to laugh. They join him in the laughter for a few moments before shuffling impossibly closer.

“He really does love you Bdubs. We talk about it all the time.”

“Then why’d he get scared and run?”

“That is something you’re gonna have to talk to him about. I can’t speak entirely for him.”

Bdubs nods. Before looking up and into Cleo’s eyes.

“You said you love me.”

“I did say that.”

“So. Can I do something?”

“What exactly do you want to do?”

“This.”

He leans forward and joins their lips together in a soft embrace. They kiss him back with vigour.

The kiss lasts for what could have been hours but really was just a few minutes before they pull apart from each other.

“You’re good at that.”

Cleo can’t help but kiss him again then. A chaste peck that has him chasing her lips.

“You can do it as much as you want later. Now. We have an Etho to find.”

She’s up and offering him a hand before he can say anything more.

They leave Moss Magic, waving to Lizzie and Pearl on the way out and set out towards Cleo and Etho’s apartment.

Walking hand in hand down the street Cleo senses Bdubs nerves.

She hopes Etho isn’t spiralling too much.

Gosh she hopes he’s even at their place.

Whatever awkward and uncomfortable conversation awaits them when they do eventually find Etho will be 100 percent worth it if the resolution is more Bdubs in their lives.

They think that with her two boys by her side she could handle just about anything.

-

[bradleysass]

Prison - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 819

James Potter isn’t afraid of prisons.

He’s been in holding cells before—stupid teenage pranks, a couple of bar fights, that one time he “accidentally” stole a police horse (he swore he was going to return it). He knows the routine. Cuffed wrists, bored officers, bad coffee, and the threat of a record he’s somehow always managed to dodge.

But this prison? This one is different.

It’s cold in a way that seeps into his bones, the fluorescent lights flickering like they don’t really want to illuminate what lurks in the shadows. The air smells of bleach and something stale, like a place that’s been scrubbed down but can’t ever quite wash away the things that have happened here.

James shifts beside Regulus, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “I don’t like it here.”

Regulus doesn’t look at him, just keeps walking with the kind of calm that comes from familiarity. “You didn’t have to come.”

“I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

Regulus sighs, something fond but exasperated. “And?”

James watches as a guard unlocks a heavy metal door ahead of them. “And I don’t like it here.”

The visit room is small. Just a single table, two chairs on one side, one on the other. The walls are a sickly shade of gray, covered in scratches that James tells himself aren’t tally marks.

Barty Crouch Jr. sits on the other side of the glass, grinning like he’s just been waiting for them. He’s thinner than the last time James saw him, his hair longer, eyes sunken but still burning with something sharp and alive.

“Reggie,” Barty drawls, leaning forward like he’s about to share a secret. “Brought your boyfriend this time?”

Regulus doesn’t react, just takes the seat across from him. “James wanted to see you.”

Barty hums, tilting his head toward James, eyes glittering. “And? How do you like our little sanctuary?”

James swallows. He doesn’t like it at all.

But Barty is watching him, waiting, a smirk playing at his lips like he can already see the unease curling in James’ gut.

James leans back in his chair, crosses his arms. “It’s charming,” he says, flashing a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bit cold, though.”

Barty chuckles. “That’s the ghosts.”

James doesn’t believe in ghosts. But something about the way Barty says it—like he’s not talking about spirits, like he means the echoes of things that have happened here, the weight of them pressed into the walls—makes James shiver.

Regulus is unbothered, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his coat. He taps one out, sliding it across the table. A guard doesn’t move to stop him. James wonders how many times they’ve let this happen before.

Barty picks up the cigarette, rolling it between his fingers. “You always know what I like, don’t you?”

Regulus doesn’t answer, just lights his own and exhales a slow curl of smoke.

James watches them, watches the way Regulus leans back, relaxed in a way James can’t understand. He’s been visiting Barty for years, long enough that this—this bleak, awful room, this conversation with a man who looks half-feral—doesn’t even rattle him.

James clears his throat. “So, uh. How’s prison life treating you?”

Barty laughs, full and delighted, like James just told the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, you know. Same shit, different day.”

James forces a grin. “Glad to hear it.”

Barty leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes flickering over James like he’s a puzzle to be solved. “You’re uncomfortable.”

James shrugs. “Maybe I just don’t like being in places with no exits.”

Barty smirks. “Or maybe you don’t like being in places where you aren’t in control.”

Regulus, who has been silent, finally speaks. “Don’t toy with him.”

Barty looks at him, eyes bright with something James doesn’t like. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

A beat of silence. The hum of the overhead lights.

Regulus stands, snuffing his cigarette out in the tray provided. “We should go.”

James doesn’t argue. He stands quickly, eager to put as much distance between himself and this place as possible.

Barty watches them, amusement flickering over his face. “Come again soon, Potter.”

James doesn’t reply.

As they step out into the hallway, the heavy door clanging shut behind them, James finally lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Regulus glances at him. “You alright?”

James runs a hand through his hair. “I am never coming back here.”

Regulus hums, lighting another cigarette as they step outside. “Probably for the best.”

James looks at him, really looks at him, at the way Regulus exhales smoke like he’s done this a thousand times before, like it’s just another Sunday.

James shakes his head. “You’re insane.”

Regulus smirks. “And you’re dramatic.”

Maybe. But as they walk toward the car, James doesn’t shake the feeling that the ghosts Barty mentioned are still watching.

[kazuko-stuff]

The Things You Didn’t Notice

Synopsis : You thought back about your feelings and look back at the past. You wonder how many things you didn’t notice about Caleb back then and how it matters in the present and the future ahead

Warning: This takes place after Homecoming Wings Chapter and will have spoilers from Caleb’s myth, Hidden Waves and Painful Signal

Notes: This is my take of the aftermath of Homecoming Wings chapter. MC reevaluating her childhood with Caleb and understanding on what she is feeling. She is not only learning to accept the changes of Caleb but realizing the little things see may overlook in her younger years with her growing up with Caleb. This can be seen as some sort of character analysis as well.

“I am done playing the role of being the ‘loving older brother,” Caleb confesses as he faces you, holding you tighter, unwilling to let go of you.

The words have echoed in your mind ever since your return to Linkon from Skyhaven.

A lot of things have happened since then.

Mia, Kevi… and Caleb affiliated with EVER in some way.

You were eventually given a few days off from the Association from Jenna, seeing you overworking due to the stress of the sudden events.

‘Is this really Caleb?’ you thought to yourself.

No.

You didn’t really know his real self.

You didn’t understand him.

Because you didn’t bother to

You realized that you subconsciously play the role of the sweet little sister who sees her brother, who is kinder and more fun than anyone else. Out of fear of what he truly sees you as, as well as the circumstances behind them.

Just like why he played the role of the kind older brother.

And how he wondered if you realized if you knew how he felt, as his feelings for you had gotten stronger over the years. He didn’t say a word back then because of those fears.You hurt him without realizing it, and that is what hurts you even more. The same turmoil he is feeling right now.

You depended on him too much because he was always there for you, just like any younger sibling does.

But did you really see him as a brother?

Truthfully, you weren’t sure.

Like why you didn’t want him to have a girlfriend when you two went to high school and how he promised he wouldn’t get one.

And why you eagerly played his girlfriend in college, unknowingly making him wish that this were to be true.

You wanted to run from these feelings, but for some reason you can’t.

It’s a truth about yourself that you have to face.

A shocking revelation of the real, true, hidden feelings of his and yours.

Temptation, guilt, yearning, and sin.

And he shouldered all these burdens and feelings alone for God knows how many years.

It’s because you felt the same way.

You were in love with him.

In some twisted way, you wished this wasn’t true.

As you confront these feelings at last, tears start to fall. You accepted the truth of the feelings that had piled up in your heart and how long you had kept thinking of Caleb when he supposedly died.

You were as responsible for his pain and suffering because of your ignorance.

Maybe because of the sudden separation, he couldn’t be as open as he was in the past and the events in Skyhaven. You started to see things that you didn’t notice in him before.

—

When you went back to Skyhaven to meet with some high school friends, Caleb was already there in the rain at night to take you back to his place.

The first thing you didn’t notice before is how much your needs come before his. He should have waited in the cafe and texted you a message, but he didn’t.

He waited in the cold, rainy night just for you due to Skyhaven’s patrol issues at night. Because of that, he ended up sick with a cold.

This was the first time he was sick in bed with a cold with you. Yes, he was sick before, but Grandma always took care of it.

When you were sick, he was the first to take care of you and made sure you weren’t lonely. Oh, how he sang off-key when you were young, but that didn’t really mind you. You knew he was attempting to cheer you up.

Despite Caleb’s protests, you decided to take care of him. He was always ready to put your needs first; now you want to do the same.

As you cooked some porridge, you thought back on all the things he did for you when you were sick.

You took care of him and gave him porridge in hopes he would recover soon.

“You enjoy taking care of sick people, huh?” He looks at you as he points to the bowl.

You were confused by the statement he made.

‘You’re taking care of him because you care for him. Why can’t he see that?’ as you thought to yourself, as you set the bowl on the side.

As you decide to go back to your room to give him time to rest, he grabs your arm, “Don’t go,” he pleads weakly.

“Uhh”

“You can sleep here,” he suggests, as he moves a bit to create room for you.

It was like old times, where he sleeps with you whenever you're sick. You lay on the bed with him and rest on his right arm.

As the two of you looked back on fond memories, you couldn’t help but check his temperature again. He touched his right cheek with your hand and gave a slight smile that his fever is going down a bit.

You then got up on the mattress and cupped his cheek with both hands.

“You still want to confirm it? You’re even copying what I do when you’re sick,” he sighs as you bring his forehead to yours to reassure him.

You let go as he rests on the bed board with a cough, still sullen from the fever.

You looked at him worried, “Caleb, what can I do to make you feel better?” you asked in concern.

“When you were sick, you never wanted to be alone. You made me sing for you. Then you complained, saying I sucked and covered my mouth,” as he smiled at the memory fondly.

“Then I’ll sing for you,” you respond with a soft smile, as you sing a lullaby from the past.

“Many summers ago”

“A little base”

“That secret that only belongs to two”

“Hidden in a lush place”

You finished the lullaby as he looked at you with longing in deep violet eyes. You blushed in response, “Was it bad?” you asked shyly.

“Not at all,” he responded softly. To him, your singing always provides comfort to him and makes him feel at ease. He raises his hand and barely touches the bottom of your lips with his fingers and looks away, as if he is hiding something.

“Caleb, you’re still messing around. You’re not letting me see your weakness,” slightly annoyed that he is still reckless when he’s sick, causing you to attempt to leave the bed only for Caleb to pull you back to his chest.

“… Don’t go,” he pleaded weakly.

“I never kept anything from you. The same can’t be said about you, though.”You huffed.

“I can’t have any weaknesses. Then you’ll feel safe relying on me.” He looks away in guilt.

Was this why he initially refused you for help earlier? Is this what he thinks if he sees him like this?

“But I don’t want to stand behind you. I want to stand by your side,” you answered back in a softer tone.

Caleb looks at you with soft eyes and places your hand on his heart. “Do you feel it? This is my weakness,” feeling his heart race on your hand. “She’s here.”.

“For a long time, she’s been here,” he confessed when you lay on his side, as you two embraced each other.

Another sacrifice he made was hiding his burdens away from you just to take care of you.

You just want to tell him it’s okay for you to take care of him because you felt the same way about wanting him to feel and be safe.

——

Once more, you and Caleb spent time together, this time in Lincoln. Caleb was wearing a disguise due to him still being legally dead to those who knew him in Linkon.

You two went to the cemetery to visit Grandma’s grave. You also ended up encountering Gideon in the process, leading to having him tag along to catch up at a nearby cafe.

The day went fast, leaving little room for the two of you to spend time alone together, much to your disappointment. When Caleb is about to go back to Skyhaven, you two make a promise to spend time together alone another time, whenever you two are off from work.

Later at night, after having dinner, you heard a chime from a nearby radio.

“Three hours ago, the Coelum Express, bound for Skyhaven, experienced unexpected Protocore energy fluctuations. The cause remains unknown.”

Caleb was on that express three hours ago, causing you to slightly panic in worry. You attempted to contact Caleb but were only sent to voicemail. You contact Gideon in an attempt to find out about Caleb’s current whereabouts, but the only thing you get is that Caleb had a serious arm injury in the accident and didn’t go to the hospital afterward.

This made you even more worried, and you went straight to Skyhaven to check on Caleb at his residence.

You look around the apartment for him and notice his clothes and phone on the sofa and nearby coffee table.

As you were about to look up nearby hospitals within the area, you felt a breeze within the complex and noticed the wall had a hole that wasn’t there before. You tentatively entered in hopes of finding clues, and there he was, sitting on some sort of medical chair, grunting in pain.

Caleb notices you behind him. “Stay back,” he warns, causing you to halt in place.

“Repair Complete” as the two of you look at the computer screen. You then notice that his left arm is a bionic arm; remember that Gideon informed you about Caleb having his arm injured in the accident earlier.

You tentatively continue to step towards him with his back towards you. “I almost forgot…You never listen to me during times like these.” He huffs in response.

You touch his shoulder to get him to look at you and grunt in pain.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just didn’t expect you to find out like this.” He looks at the floor in shame as you come closer to him.

“I barely feel any pain. Unless it’s under repair,” he explains as he raises his bionic arm to hold the hand that reaches out to him.

“I …can’t even feel you anymore” as his bionic clutches your hand.

With the same hand, you hold the bionic hand to comfort him.

“Caleb… Sometimes, I wish you were always in pain,” you admitted, not knowing what to say as tears started to form.

Hearing and seeing your tears, he raises his real arm to hold yours in an attempt to feel the warmth from hands.

“If that’s what it takes to feel you, I’ll accept it.” He looks at you with guilt in his eyes.

“But most of the time, I wish your pain could be lessened” as you let go of his bionic hand to feel the rest of the steel arm of his.

“Is this the Fleet’s doing…? They won’t get away with this.”You turn in anger, but only for Caleb to restrain his arms in pain.

His heavy breathing increases as he stands to hold you back with his real hand. “You think you can just…come and go as you please?” clutching his bionic hand.

“Is that so?” you retaliated and suddenly jumped to hug him tightly.

“Then hold me, Caleb. Do it tightly,” you begged as you looked at him in the eyes with tears, clutching his bionic hand. “Use your right hand.”.

“You’re the only one…who can ease my pain,” he murmurs softly to you, hugging you tight.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but for one thing, you know whatever EVER is doing, though the fleet isn't good.

Whatever EVER wants from you and the aether core, Caleb paid the ultimate price to keep you from temporarily harm’s way.

But how long would this last for? You know Caleb would just be a pawn in EVER’s game and would discard him eventually once they achieve something through him.

What did they do to him during the past few months after the explosions? You didn’t know, and frankly you don’t, since the answer is already there.

“After the explosion, I spent a long time recovering in a hospital.” Caleb reveals as he lessens his grip on you, “At the time, this arm could still feel another’s touch. It could still feel warmth, the cold, anything and everything, but…” Seeing his expression sullen. “After the modifications, all that vanished. Only extreme pain could be felt, feeling his weight pressing down on your shoulder, but you didn’t mind.

“Is that why you asked me to pinch you harder…?”recalling the events from earlier of him wanting you to pinch him.

“It was the only way this arm could feel you. Even if it’s pain… As long as it’s from you, I want it.”

A frown comes on your face; you didn’t want him to be in pain because of you. How much does he have to suffer for?

Over the first few weeks after the events at Skyhaven, you begin looking back at your childhood with Caleb. Analyzing those memories for things you had missed back then due to ignorance. You want to help him with his burdens, and now knowing what he is going through, all you want to do is be his source of comfort for once.

“But… I don’t want to hurt you,” wrapping your hands around Caleb’s back and welcoming his embrace. You press your forehead against his trembling shoulder. “I also don’t want you to be numb to my presence,” you murmured.

“In that case, you can’t call it hurt.” He gives you a small smile in an attempt to make a joke. “You always find a way to sway my mind…” you kissed him on the lips to shut him up, shocking him in the process.

It took him a few seconds for the kiss to register in his mind, but he returned your kiss, this time with more passion, yearning, and longing.

The kiss between you two heated up even more. Your bodies are pressed together, breathing heavily as your lips press together. Caleb envelops you in a hug in the same motion, and you fall deeper into him.

You felt the slightly chapped lips against yours. Just like how he felt your own soft, silken lips pressed against his.

You briefly recalled your first kiss with him a few months back. You only wished it wasn’t under those circumstances. Once again you hurt him without realizing it. But this kiss, however, felt different. Caleb feels it too. No holding back, and no secrets are being kept.

Caleb feels some of the weight off of him lifted as he holds you tighter into his embrace. You felt warmth blossoming in your chest, sparks igniting as the kiss deepens, with more devotion than Caleb thinks he deserves.

[meelusinees]

this was one of the sweetest things ive ever read???? hello???

He pauses, tiling his head, considering. "And since our perception is limited by our optic nerves, no one really sees their own eyes the way others do. Which is a shame, because if you could see yours the way I do, you'd understand why I can't help but stare.'

SIR???? SIR?????? like i knew for a while about that fun eye fact, but i never thought to make it romantic like that????

You used to think brown was such a simple color. But then you met him, saw his eyes, now it's in everything. Wet earth after rain, cinnamon dusted over coffee, burnt sugar on your tongue.

this is absolutely so sweet what 😭 it reminds me of me and my girlfriend, bc this sounds exactly like something she’d say to me

"The universe has been expanding for 13.8 billion years," he murmurs, fingers trailing along your jaw. “But I don't think it's ever made anything more beautiful than you.”

HELLO?? HELLO??? SIR SPENCER SIR WHAT THE HECK MAN

“The Heart Nebula exists purely because gravity and radiation dictate that it must. But you..." His gaze softens. "You exist because of a thousand tiny impossibilities stacking on top of each other. The odds of you, of this, are so astronomically low that it shouldn't have happened at all.”

this is geniunely one of the sweetest things ive ever read 😭 this is my new standard of romance and exactly how i shall be romantically talking and writing from now on, thank u for changing my brain’s chemistry with this piece

short n sweet but we need one where spencer loves head scratches and getting his hair played with

Heart Nebula - S.R

summary: spencer tells you every atom in your body was once part of a star, but you think he's the celestial wonder worth studying. pairings: spencer reid x reader warnings: fluff galore, existentialism, star-gazing, astrophysics inaccuracies im so sure wc: 2.1k

"You'd be so proud of me today, you know."

You scoot closer, disrupting the careful folds of the blanket. The fabric bunches beneath your legs, damp soil seeps through, not quite wet enough to be a problem, but enough to make you aware of it. A blade of grass tickles stubbornly at your ankle. You wiggle your foot once, twice, it stays. Some things do.

Your pinky grazes his, the barest of contact, but he turns his head anyway. The night seems to fold him in shadow, softens his features, makes him look almost ethereal. His eyes give him away, glinting back at you, tiny shards of cosmos blinking back at you. It should be impossible to feel jealously of the sky, and yet.

"Yeah?" The familiar crease settles between his brows, a well-loved marker in the pages of him. His head tilts, waiting, not impatiently, already certain he's going to love your answer. "Why's that?"

Your smile jumps ahead of you, swells into one of those too-big-for-your-face grins. The kind that crinkles your nose, bunches your cheeks, makes your face ache after a while.

"I learned about a nebula."

Spencer's laugh starts in his chest and works its way out, rattling through his ribs, shaking his shoulders, until the momentum knocks his knee into yours.

"Look at you," he says, all teasing admiration. "I am proud. Which one?"

"I think It was called the Heart Nebula?" You glance at him, waiting, watching, half-hoping that he'll recognize the name, that he'll give you that little nod of confirmation.

He does. You beam.

"I saw a picture earlier, and it was just—," You trail off, eyes tipping upwards, letting the sky steal whatever poetic explanation you were about to give. "I don't know. Too beautiful to be real."

Spencer had been so excited when you told him you wanted to stargaze, his eyes had practically glowed, already rattling off a dozen facts about atmospheric conditions and celestial visibility, and why tonight was perfect.

He barely took a breath before he had been launching into a dozen more reasons, winding himself up so tight with words that the only way to release them, apparently, was kissing you. Feverishly.

Like he had no other way to translate his excitement into something tangible, something felt.

It made you want to promise him everything, to tell him you'd do this forever, that you'd let him drag you under the stars a thousand times over if it meant being kissed like that.

Spencer glances at you, his mouth twitching like you've just said the punchline to a joke you don't realize you're telling. You're here, waxing about a sky full of ancient light, calling the Heart Nebula too beautiful to be real, and he's looking at you like you've missed the most obvious part.

You narrow your eyes, but he only shakes his head, like whatever crossed his mind was his to keep.

"The Heart Nebula is full of newborn stars," he tells you, gaze still pointed on the sky. "Their radiation makes the gas glow red, pink. The whole thing shifts under stellar winds, reshaping itself, over and over again."

His voice wades its way through the parts of your brain, finding its place. He has this way of explaining things, of turning something infinite into something intimate. 

And you love that. Love how he does that. Love the way he sees things. Love him.

"It's about 7,500 light-years away. Which means the light we're seeing now left before humans even figured out agriculture." A small, disbelieving laugh escapes him. "By the time it reaches us, whatever we're looking at doesn't exist the same way anymore. It's already changed. Probably unrecognizable."

His fingers twitch against his thigh, probably resisting the urge to gesture. "Space is weird like that."

"I don't know, Spence," you tease, fingers pinching the sleeve of his shirt, catching just enough of him to feel real. His dimple carves into his cheek and your heart stumbles, caught between beats. "It kind of sounds like you're telling me I can't trust my own eyes."

"Well, technically you can't." He turns fully toward you, dimple still firmly in place, eyes flicking, too quickly, too obviously, to your lips. "The human eye takes in scattered bits of light, and your brain—" he taps your temple for emphasis "—fills in the blanks. Adjusts for shadows, alters colors based on what it thinks is there. Your eyes are compulsive liars."

He pauses, tiling his head, considering. "And since our perception is limited by our optic nerves, no one really sees their own eyes the way others do. Which is a shame, because if you could see yours the way I do, you'd understand why I can't help but stare."

There are moments when Spencer says something so casually devastating that your brain just empties, and this is absolutely one of them. Your mouth opens, then closes again.

"That's—" Your voice catches, so you clear your throat, shake your head, try to reassemble your thoughts. "That's a really unfair thing to say, you know."

Spencer blinks, like he’s running back through the conversation in real time, replaying his own words to figure out what, exactly, made you forget how to breathe. 

"Why?"

"Because some of us have a very delicate hold on their emotional stability, and you—” you point at him, accusing “— just shattered it in two sentences."

"Technically, that’s the limbic system at work. The amygdala controls emotional reactivity, but the prefrontal cortex tempers it."

You would try to unpack that, really, you would, but then his hands find your waist, and suddenly the ground isn't where you thought it was. You gasp, giggle, crash right into him, catching yourself with shaking hands against his chest.

"So really," he continues, as if you aren't sprawled across him, "if your emotional stability was shattered, you should blame your neural pathways, not me."

Your fingers twist in his hair as you lean in to kiss him, deeply and thoroughly, like proof, like inevitability maybe, a thought forming in real time, one you can press straight into his skin. 

"Maybe my neural pathways are just adapting to something worth remembering," you whisper, and the way he stills, the way his lips part just slightly, makes you think you might not be the only one.

Spencer makes a small, pleased noise against your lips, something that was half sighed and smiled, and you feel it, all of it, in the way his throat moves beneath your fingertips as he swallows.

"That... might be my favorite use of neuroscience yet."

You flash him a grin. "And you thought I wasn't paying attention when you ramble."

"I should've known you'd find a way to weaponize it."

You let your full weight settle onto him, chin perched on his chest, his heartbeat a slow song beneath your cheek. Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through soft strands, nails scraping lightly over his scalp, testing a theory you already know the answer to.

Yeah. Definite reaction.

"So that's what it takes, huh?" you tease, lips curling against the material of his shirt. You scratch again to be sure, and his next breath comes slower. "Just a well-placed brain chemistry reference?"

"From you? Yeah, that'll do it."

"Noted." A pause. Then, softer. "Keep talking to me about space."

"You know, you're kind of demanding." Spencer's fingers skate along your waist before he squeezes, firm and quick, like a punctuation mark to his sentence. 

Your head lifts, eyebrow quirked, fingers hovering just out of reach, close enough for him to feel the absence. "Excuse me?"

His smirk vanishes instantly, wiped clean, replaced by something perilously close to distress. His hands twitch at your waist, fingers moving like he can pull you back, like he can make you continue if he just wants it badly enough.

"Wait, wait, I was kidding," he rushes out, voice just shy of frantic. “Don't stop."

You grin, tilting your head like you're considering it. "Hmmm. Apologize."

"I—okay, I'm sorry, you're perfect, please—" his breath hitches, his laugh a little wild, a little helpless, "please keep going."

You giggle, fingertips weaving back into his hair. His response is immediate, a low, shaky sound that buzzes against your skin, something so content it makes warmth spreads through you like a lit fuse, spilling all the way down to your toes.

Spencer smirks, fingers drumming against your waist.

"You really don't let a guy off easy, do you?" He pauses for a second, glancing past you at the sky like he's taking in his options.

"Alright. Here's a fact you might like, every single part of you was once part of a star. All the heavier elements in your body, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, they were formed in the core of ancient stars, forged under immense heat and pressure, then scattered across the galaxy when those stars died, reforming."

His words drift to you, but you don't catch them all. You're too busy watching him.

Out here, in the absence of light pollution, you can see him more clearly than ever. The starlight doesn't just touch him, it claims him, dusting his skin in silver, catching in his lashes, turning the slopes of him almost unreal. Like if you blink too long, he might disappear, slip back into the night where he belongs. A constellation carved into the shape of a person.

You used to think brown was such a simple color. But then you met him, saw his eyes, now it's in everything. Wet earth after rain, cinnamon dusted over coffee, burnt sugar on your tongue.

And now, he’s teaching you it’s also carbon and oxygen forged in the cores of dying stars, pieces of the galaxy that had traveled billions of years to become chocolate flecks on a beautiful face.

He was right, it is a shame people never see their eyes the way others do.

"But how?" you ask. "Like... how does something go from being part of a star to being part of us?"

Spencer exhales softly and you can see the way he loves the question.

 "It's a long process. Billions of years, actually. When a star explodes, it sends all those elements out into space. They mix with other interstellar material, forming new stars, planets, and eventually..." He taps a gentle finger against your stomach. "You."

"That's kind of incredible."

Spencer huffs a quiet laugh, grinning, that beautiful grin, the one that makes your chest feel too small for your heart. His fingers find your temple, trail gently down to your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Then, without pause, he leans in and presses the gentlest kiss to your nose.

"It is," he murmurs, thumb brushing against your cheek. "We're built from pieces of space, borrowed, passed down, stitched together by time."

"So you're saying we've been part of the same universe forever? That's kind of romantic, Spence."

"It's also backed by astrophysics. Science just happens to be romantic sometimes. "

"Well, good," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his neck. "I like knowing there's proof... but I think I would've believed it anyway."

You barely have time to register the flicker in his eyes before, he moves. In a second, you're on your back, the sky stretching endlessly behind him. The stars flicker, countless and beautiful, but right now, they might as well not exist.

Because all you see is him.

He hovers over you, gaze intent, studying you, like you're a phenomenon he never expected to witness up close. Like he's sure now, more than he's ever been about anything. Like you are the discovery of a lifetime.

"The universe has been expanding for 13.8 billion years," he murmurs, fingers trailing along your jaw. "But I don't think it's ever made anything more beautiful than you."

Heat blooms beneath your skin. "More than the Heart Nebula?"

It should sound like teasing. It doesn't.

Spencer exhales, almost like he's amused by your doubt.

"The Heart Nebula exists purely because gravity and radiation dictate that it must. But you..." His gaze softens. "You exist because of a thousand tiny impossibilities stacking on top of each other. The odds of you, of this, are so astronomically low that it shouldn't have happened at all."

Spencer just looks at you for a moment. You don't move, don't breathe. And then he kisses you.

It crashes over you, stealing your breath before you even realize it's happening. His hands tighten at your sides, pulling you closer, like the space between you is unbearable. It's not rushed nor desperate, but it is consuming, the kind of thing that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

When he breaks away, he doesn't go far, forehead resting against yours. "If the universe was capable of making something more beautiful, it would have done it by now."

And maybe that’s true. Maybe the universe, for all its galaxies and nebulae and infinite expanse, never did anything better than this. Not just you, but you and him together. 

Or maybe the universe will never quite get it right again. Because maybe this was its best work.

But it won’t stop trying. It never does. Even after you’re gone, even after you and Spencer are nothing but scattered atoms, the universe will keep going. Creating. Expanding. Changing. New stars will be born, dust will settle into something new, planets will form, galaxies will stretch apart. And maybe, somewhere, the pieces that were once you and him will find their way back to each other. And maybe, if the universe has any kindness left in it, they’ll get to love like this.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[humanjarvis]

my happy is your happy

synopsis: luke thinks sylus should make more friends. but does he really need them?

tags: fluff, kinda comfort?, unintentional family dynamics (idk what came over me i didn’t expect that to happen), potential unrealistic use of sylus’s evol bc what does “energy manipulation” even mean, reader is protective of sylus, sylus overhears, asterisks to denote pov shifts bc i didn't want to use dividers pairing: sylus x reader word count: 774

a/n: it’s been like 2 days of people calling sylus a friendless loser on twitter and that’s fine but IIIII don’t think ur a loser, sylus. wrote this on a whim in the last 2 hours, questionably proofread

“Have you ever noticed that Boss doesn’t have any friends?” Luke’s youthful voice rings out, putting a swift end to your peaceful night of reading on the couch. 

Folding your half-finished book over your lap, you look up at his masked face, raising an eyebrow. “He has you.” 

Luke scoffs. “I don’t count, obviously.”

“He has Kieran.”

“We’re practically the same person. Try again,” he says, waving a hand dismissively.

“…He has Mephisto,” you offer, an innocent grin on your face. 

He doesn’t even dignify that one with a response. 

“He's still in his 20s, for God’s sake! Don’t you think he should go out more? Party a little, meet some new people?” Luke asks, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

“Not if he doesn’t think he needs to,” you say simply. 

*** 

Sylus had just stepped out of the shower when he overheard your tired voice from the living room. Not if I don’t think I need to…what? he ponders, mulling over the possibilities. Increase their monthly allowance? Install lasers into Mephisto’s eyes? Entrust Onychinus to the twins in my will?

“But no friends?” Luke asks dramatically, snapping Sylus out of his thoughts. “None? Not even one?”

Oh, Sylus thinks. That. 

Realizing you were defending his…comfortable lifestyle, Sylus feels something warm and tight and slightly wistful squeeze in his chest. Smiling to himself, he shrouds his body in the dark wisps of his Evol and moves closer, watching the rest of your conversation with interest. 

*** 

Exasperated, you run a hand through your hair. “Luke, I think you’re overthinking this. Not everyone wants to go out and party and meet people. What about Sylus makes you think he wants to go out and party and meet people? You put him in a room full of cheap club music and cheaper beer, and he’s going to evaporate into thin air. Or cause a mass casualty incident,” you say, only to be met with silence. 

Sighing, you start again. “Look, I understand that you care about him and want to make sure he’s happy—I do too—but Sylus’s happy isn’t Luke’s happy. It isn’t Kieran’s happy, or Mephisto’s happy, or even my happy. It’s his. He’s the only one who can decide what makes him happy, and he’s the only one who can decide if he is or not.”

When Luke’s mask droops—a telltale sign of a pout appearing—you switch tactics. “And maybe it’s not that he doesn’t have friends. Maybe you guys are just enough for him—did you ever think about that?” 

At this, the beak of his mask perks back up, and you know you’ve got him. 

“You think we’re…enough for him?” he asks, a hint of wonder in his voice.

You nod. 

And then you try to ignore the way his hands twitch in excitement, fighting with all you have to keep your giggle from surfacing. 

“That’s…” he clears his throat. “You know what? You’re right, Y/N, my bad. You’re really smart, you know,” Luke responds gruffly, an incriminating wobble in his voice. 

Smiling, you stand up to pat his hooded head. “I know.” 

“Well,” he starts, a new vigor in his steps as he heads toward the door. “I’m gonna go find Kieran. We just got this huge shipment of explosives that w—”

“Nope!” you interrupt. “You’re not getting me in trouble again. The less I know, the better.”

Shrugging, Luke disappears into the hallway, and you shake your head fondly. 

“What a heartwarming conversation,” a deep voice rings out. 

Jumping from shock, you whip your head around. “Sylus?!” you whisper-yell. “How long have you been there?!”

Emerging from the shadows of the bedroom behind you, Sylus strolls toward you, a soft smirk on his face. 

“Just long enough to hear your passionate defense of me,” he quips, wrapping an arm around your waist. “How much is your lawyer fee?”

Embarrassed, you swat his chest, bowing your head slightly. “I know he meant well, but I just…don’t like it when people try to take your life out of your hands,” you admit quietly. “It makes me sad.” 

“Well we can’t have that, can we, kitten?” he rumbles, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “Let me cheer you up—I very much enjoyed hearing you speak up for me.”

Lifting your head up, you look into his warm garnet eyes. “You did?” 

“Mm,” he hums, pulling you closer. “I do hate cheap beer, and you all are enough for me. You know me very well,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“But for all your expertise, you were wrong about one thing,” he whispers against you. “My happy is your happy.”

[orimuraa]

I loved you from the start - Lee Heeseung

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆even after the heartbreak your best friends gives you, you just can’t stay away from him ⨾

۶ৎ childhood best friends!heeseung x fem!reader┆comfort, angst, some fluff┆crying, a kiss, petnames┆wc 795

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: uhh so hi?….i’m here again ahha….here’s part two after all these decades…

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

part 2 to this fic

from the time that you left heeseung’s house to now, you weren’t exactly sure what had happened.

it was all a blur. maybe it was all the tears that were rapidly pouring down your face.

why? why? why did the world hate you so much?

but what did you expect…why would heeseung ever love someone like you when he could get any girl in the world?

a sob raked through your body and you bit down on your lip, hard. what were you thinking? honestly, heeseung would never see you as anything more than a best friend.

but little did you know, heeseung was in a very similar state as you were.

the minute he locked eyes with you and as the girl pressed her lips against his, he knew. he knew it all. that it was you who he was waiting for his whole life. that it was you who he loved.

“i-i i have to go,” is all he says to the girl who he suddenly can’t remember the name of, before he dashes out of his yard.

was he too late? did you never want to talk to him ever again?

once he made it to your window, he saw the faint glow of your night lamp through your window.

he needed to get to you. so, his solution is to pick up a couple pebbles and throw them at your window—classic, i know.

tick! tick! tick!

the sounds made against your window cause your head to rise, tilting to the side as you try to figure out what the noise was.

you walk over to your window, opening it and before you could help yourself, you let out a gasp.

heeseung is standing there, his eyes look red and a worried look plastered on your face.

“heeseung?? what are you doing here?” you manage to get out, whisper shouting because you didn’t want to wake your parents.

“angel…i need to talk to you..please. i understand if you don’t want to hear me out but i just need to at least..tell you these words,” he pleads, his expression breaking your heart.

never in all of the years that you have known heeseung has he ever had that much pain in his expression. his does eyes are glazed over from what you could tell and his eyebrows are scrunched together.

with a sigh, you slightly nod.

“the front door’s unlocked. try not to wake my parents.”

now you’re not quite sure what to do. heeseung is sat on your bed, next to you, and you both sit there in silence.

“y/n…i-i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, i was so blind and i just couldn’t see what was really going on. but now, now i do. i get it now,” he starts, taking your hands into his.

you can’t bare to look him in the eyes yet. not yet.

“i’m in love with you y/n. and i have been forever but i was just too blind to see it. i’m so in love with you that it hurts to see you like this. to see the tears i’ve caused you. angel, i’m so sorry..” he exhales, his eyes getting glossy once again.

that’s when you look up at him. his eyes were so..sad. you don’t even know the words to express the emotions you saw in his eyes.

lee heeseung loved you. he loved you and only you. but he was so blind that he couldn’t see it. what?

“hee….is that really how you feel?” you ask softly, too scared that if you spoke any louder, this dream would come to an end. no. not yet. not before he can tell you he does love you.

“oh angel..i’m so sorry i ever made you doubt it, i love you so much it hurts.” heeseung reassures, rubbing soft circles on your hand.

and that’s how it is.

you two sit on the edge of your bed, your head resting on heeseung’s shoulder. and that’s the way you like it. that’s the way it’s always been but now, now you two are in love.

“stay a little bit longer..” you mumble, not sure if you were ready to let heeseung go yet.

“baby, i’m never going anywhere. i’ve got you,” he says, turning to look at you and sealing his words with a sweet kiss against your lips.

“i don’t think i could ever hate you l, even if i tried so hard,” you breathe, hating the way that your words were just so true.

heeseung was the one who got you most. he was the one who loved you most but you were both unable to see it until now.

“thank you for loving me angel..thank you for being here from the start of it all.”

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic

[esmereldapearl]

Okay, okay, okay— theory time.

They said plot twist, SO, here’s my theory on that. Here’s what we know;

1) Will wears a cool toned shirt, most likely purple on the cover

2) Will won’t be killed off (and I doubt anybody else)

3) People will be mad

My theory? Will and Nico switch camps the same way Annabeth and Percy did. I think that it would probably be best for the both of them— will probably has a lot of trauma from CHB and Nico probably wants to be with his sister- and I think what truly kept Nico at CHB is Will and Jason and if Will wants to go then that’d probably be what they do. I can’t see Nico wanting to stay away from his sister like that after all that they’ve gone through. I think Kayla and Austin would understand too, especially since Will is almost to the age where campers leave anyway. It’d be safer for them both especially after Tartarus.

Worst case scenario with this is a long distance relationship but I really don’t think that would happen. I think Nico would go where ever Will goes, or that Nico wouldn’t want that because of all the stuff he’s had to have a distance with (his mom, Bianca, his dad, everybody.)

People probably would be mad about this but it wouldn’t be a “omg you killed Will off how could you!” And I doubt it’d be a breakup since Mark is helping to write their relationship.

With this, Will would be able to not be the head medic. Not have EVERY responsibility as a doctor at CHB where there’s like almost no Apollo campers. He could finally rest after not being able to. Find himself, find what he likes, and explore it with Nico. They could continue to help the monsters and help other demigods, just less stressfully.

Also, from Nico’s New Year’s resolution, I’m thinking they’re gonna road trip there and possibly visit Will’s mom since Nico wanted to travel w/Will— also wouldn’t Will be closer to his mom in California (she’s in Texas I think)

[fromchaostocosmos]

My mother had an ectopic pregnancy which meant that I at some point in my life learnt what that was.

Now even though this happened long before I was ever born it was still something I learnt about and was educated on as a child.

So when my school did it is really basic explanation of periods in either 6th or 7th grade I of course brought it up.

To which I was told that was not a thing.

The person who doing this presentation/explanation was a doctor.

I was very confused why I was told this and went home for a long time thought maybe I was wrong.

I don't know why I was told I was wrong. Maybe because she, the doctor, didn't want to scare or confuse us. Maybe because she didn't want to get into reproduction. I don't know.

I do know that it was wrong to tell me that I was incorrect that there was such a thing.

Because there was.

There is lack medical literacy in general world wide, but especially so in the USA. We do no one any favors by not educating ourselves and the future generations in medical literacy and also science literacy.

Sex ed falls under that and understanding miscarriages does too.

I have met people who thought I was lying when I said that miscarriages in the first few weeks of pregnancy are very common and often can occur before the person even knows they are even pregnant themselves.

I consider myself to be very lucky that both my parents at one point were in the medical field, now just one parent, because that means I grew up surrounded by medical literacy and people to go to when I had questions, and still do.

We owe it to each other and to those who come after us to ensure that we all properly educated and have full understanding on these things. So that people know what is happening to them and the ones they care about.

But also because the more understanding you have, the more educated you are, the more medically literate and scientifically literate you are the less likely you may fall for a scam or a mlm or some faux medical/science product because you will understand why it is bogus and how it is trying to take advantage of you.

And it also means that you will hopefully be better able to advocate for yourself and loved at the doctor, help you feel more confident in asking questions, etc. Because sometimes it can feel scary or hard to ask questions, self-advocate, say no to certain treatment plans, etc. I too go through that.

I firmly believe being more educated, understanding more, and being more medical and scientifically literate will only help and improve all our lives.

We should teach children about miscarriage during sex ed. Here’s why

I feel this in my bones

Miscarriage and still births are still so taboo, which contributes to/exacerbates the feelings of isolation and despair which often follow. And it's not at all helped by the misinformation that's out there.

Some of the most unhelpful types of advice I frequently see involve versions of 'avoid stress', which, if you think about it for more than a minute is not only something of an empty platitude, but also makes no sense given the number of full-term babies born into extremely stressful conditions throughout human history

Properly understanding and talking about the potential vagaries of pregnancy might also go some way to challenging anti-abortion rhetoric, which tends to fetishise pregnancy (always at the expense of the pregnant person. And reality). It was quite apparent that some of them don't understand how pregnancy works when those US politicians started waffling about 're-implating foetuses' during in ectopic pregnancies... I dare say people like that have never heard of a molar pregnancy, for example.

Basically, we need to demystify pregnancy for everyone's sakes