#nowadays i just feel sad for no reason i’m worried about everything i don’t know

[salsflore]

[jeskoholic]

A Little Piece of You Chapter 18: Black Swan

This is a chapter from an on-going series. If you missed out on the previous entries, you can check my masterlist.

Previous chapter: The Ideal Girlfriend

Word count: 4,975

Tags: Male OC X Secret Idol, Mystery Girl, Library Girl, School Cafeteria Convo, College Scenario

Enjoy

---

Today marks another day that I spent away from United Kwangya, among all other days that I elected to do the same as well. After that one huge major event with regards to Dawn, it really opened huge ways and opportunities for me to catch up with my friends that are not from the new group chat. Yujin was a definite special case; I’ve never felt so grounded again after talking to a friend such as her. It was as if I was on another soft reset with my life that I can finally move forward with what’s given to me. Well, even with that, I still don’t know how else to come back with the rest of the group chat members, in the event that I really decide to come back anyway. Somehow the absence of closure between me and Soyeon is bothering me even in the smallest ways. I still find ways to be worried about her even if I know she’s not thinking the exact same way towards me.

I don’t exactly even know why I’m deliberately distancing myself from the group. I guess I’m shy and still possibly embarrassed with what happened with their friend but then again… it’s not as if it’s entirely their fault that we broke up. It must be a bad thing on their perspective, but I must admit that I am finding solace being away from the limelight that is them. That way I’ve been catching up on a lot of stuff that I can’t normally do when I’m with hanging out with them. The only thing bad was… how am I supposed to head back now that I feel like I’m so far off? I’m sure Kyungsoo might have gotten a bad impression towards me nowadays, especially when I practically declined all their invites for the past days the moment I lost my romantic link on the group chat. The drinking sessions were pretty understandable and yet even I repeatedly declined to share lunch with them, only to regret it later in the afternoon. That seemed to be a repeating cycle that they just halted from asking me again.

The skies were as bright as a day could possibly be. The usual carpet of clouds were absent from the early atmosphere as I boarded the train for the morning. Joohyun-noona, the hardworking woman she is, left me with a prepared meal for the day ahead as she dealt with her job so early on.

Honestly, she’s a huge reason why even with this seemingly lonely life, I don’t feel alone; being able to have some personal space with myself felt so powerful because of everything that was happening around me.

Here I sat again close towards the window of the train watching as the soft scenery pass by in front of me. With the soft barrage of ballad music, of course the idiot in me could feel like it was a scene from a drama, or for that context it was from those sad music videos. All of the things I’ve done to lead up to this point had started to come unto me or I guess everything just started to sink in. Listening to sad songs this early in the morning really was a bad idea but I can’t seem to get rid of it.

Nevertheless, I exited the terminal that morning feeling rather downtrodden. It was ironic, considering I was initially so enthusiastic to leave the apartment earlier that day for a bright morning stroll. Now, I feel like I am at that rainy breakup day again. It was one of those times that your inner consciousness start to get the better of you, with all the actions you did out of impulse starting to sink its teeth onto your skin, making you wonder if it was the right decision; including how different your life had headed to in case you chose the other path.

What the hell am I doing?

I need to fix this mood I intentionally created later within the day because I can’t stay like this until I go home. It would be worse than having to control an uncontrollable mood swing, especially when I don’t have that much of people to talk to. Considering most of my days recently were either anchored on studying (and eventually sleeping) at the school library or doing the exact opposite of that and heading on off a net café and play with Hyojong for what it’s worth… I just might do the latter to shake my mind off of things. I’m veering off into dangerous territory that I don’t have plans on visiting anyway.

“Finding a perfect person definitely involves a bound of luck as well as a good stroke of fate. You’ll never know when you’ll meet her, or if you’ve even met her already. The range of your destiny could be someone you’ve already spent a long time being with to someone you accidentally tripped over on the way home. It’s easier once you let your heart welcome it instead of your mind.”

I guess that works out like that. Of course, Yujin’s voice coming out of nowhere was a good plus especially on a time like this. Odd, but definitely welcome; it was better than me just indulging on my own thoughts.

Man, what am I even thinking about? I did those things for a reason. I’m here in my situation now because I chose it. I just need to keep things together and move on with what’s ahead. Yujin said it herself; it’s easier if I let my heart lead me instead of my mind. I seem to be using my head a lot recently, so I might as well think with my heart, I guess.

I made a mental note to message Hyojong to hang out on later on that day, as well as a reminder to not listen to sad, lonely songs when boarding a train in the morning. I hope that I won’t repeat this really drying start of a day anytime soon.

---HOURS LATER---

Considering he never really wrought plans to join anyone else in the lunch, as the noon approached, Yoon Jae-in struggled once again to find an eatery that would serve two purposes for him: be as quiet and as peaceful as it could in order for him to continue the series he began to watch, while in turn be on a secluded place that he can spend it peacefully without anyone recognizing him. In his head, he already was on utmost priority to finish the series, so he might as well go all in and generate a good atmosphere for himself. Of course, he had to give another excuse to Shinwon. As much as it really did not feel good to be shutting out on his original friends from high school, he wanted to think of it as some sort of a ‘recovery period’ even if there was not entirely anything he wanted to recover from, particularly on that doomed relationship with Jeon Soyeon.

Also, Jae-in managed to recover the mess of a mind he had earlier that day that he wanted to reward himself of what he originally intended to do earlier in the morning.

Yoon Jae-in exited the school library after spending the free time catching some unnecessary sleep, with the place unintentionally being his new best friend on recent days. Of course, with his last encounter on the school’s local athenaeum ending on an awkward note, it was bound for himself to be cautious. However, there was a part of him that hoped to see the girl he bumped once again; not to continue talking to her but to apologize on a better note and not on a short rush. It did felt like a stretch, including most of the thought he’s been putting just to evade the encounter with his friends, but he still wanted to count on the chances it came with.

That day, however, fate had other plans for him.

Noon approached on the clock and Jae-in still had no real idea where else he could spend the lunch on. All of the places he’s been through felt very dull on his taste buds with how often he’s been going there recently. His body, especially his tongue, craved more than just a similar taste. In a quick decision to cut all thought of places to head on to, he went with possibly the least interesting place to in for a North Liner: The school cafeteria.

Going back to NLIU’s cafeteria with his recent memory of Soyeon’s breakup there was perhaps the least motivating thing to have with him. However, in that current moment it was the most plausible option. Not only was it conveniently nearer than anywhere else, but also given a good spot he was practically invisible to the rest of the school. At least for that day, he could do and watch the planned series to let time pass a bit better. The best part was if it would unfold uninterrupted.

However, it was already established that fate had different plans for him. The chances of Yoon Jae-in getting what he wanted that day were as slim as it could get.

Apparently, the day he decided to head onto the cafeteria was also the day that the school’s athletes were practicing hard for the respective inter-school games. That unfortunately unleashed a huge load of people towards the cafeteria for their exclusive lunch courtesy of the university itself. With such a huge privilege given to them, Jae-in could see why most of the white-walled architecture of the cafeteria began to be filled with jerseys and uniforms of mixed white, blue, and gold scattered all throughout. It was difficult to even check on a vacant seat and table with the flood of student athletes all over the place. Jae-in could only imagine the non-athlete students already occupying the tables to be there way before the commotion even began.

Well, I guess things really went south this day. I don’t want to go to another place because I’m already feeling my stomach curl out of hunger, so I have no choice but to endure it.

Is there a place to eat here though?

As much as the place was filled with noises and commotion that he could even barely follow through, the queue line towards the lunch was far more open that he initially thought. In fact, he was not even standing five minutes onto the queue of four people ahead of him before he finally got to order. It was about in just a moment’s notice that he finally had a tray of seafood and all the good stuff that came with it. Now comes the harder, probably most important part of that lunch out which was looking for a seat to eat comfortably. But like anyone else, Jae-in thought that perhaps walking around like an idiot holding a tray of food on his hands ought to shake some of the occupants already sitting there, especially those who are done and have no business to be there any further in hopes of giving the seat to someone who actually needs it.

He persistently walked around the cafeteria but to no avail. It was perhaps where the canteen received the full saturation of the athletes, as everyone one else were seated in threes or fours with a potential vacant seat filled with all their bags stacked on top of each other. The only real option was to walk upward, ascending the metal stairs that headed to the second floor. Similar to most of the aesthetic of the university, it was a typical loft design wide enough to have two tables to stay close to each other, while still maintaining that wide spread view to the ocean of blue and white below.

Jae-in scanned the place once again, this time most of the seats were at least occupied by his fellow, non-university sports-affiliated colleagues. Despite that, most of the place was still filled with a lot of people with their friends and left no real opening spots for him to even dine with. As he treaded towards the other half of the overlooking terrace, he started to lose hope and begin to get desperate; wondering if there’s at least a good amount of people there who would not mind a third or a fourth stranger eating in the same table with them. He never thought that actually looking for a seat on the place he seldom went to would end up to be that stressful.

And then he found it.

There was a table at perhaps the farthest, most hidden corner of the cafeteria that only housed a single person with a vacant seat next to them. The table, for the most part, was filled with various papers and fairly familiar book covers. Jae-in turned towards the person seated… and his shoulders immediately sank.

…Or rather, his heart skipped a beat because he instantly recognized who the person was. He, however, did not expect to see her on a place like that, precisely on a time like that as well. Perhaps fate’s playful string-pulling brought him to that exact time to meet her once again.

This is going to get awkward, but I have no other choice. I’m already hungry and I need a seat.

Jae-in closed his eyes, gave one last sliver of encouragement for himself and then proceeded to head on off ahead to speak to the girl in a rather shivering voice.

“Umm… excuse me… do you mind if I take a seat…?”

---

My heart was pounding so hard inside my ribcage I could already feel it bursting out of my body. Who knew that asking for a small favour took all my courage into doing so? It kinda shows that I don’t do this too often to get practice.

Maybe she’d recognize me…. I don’t know if it’s better that she did or she didn’t.

As much as it took almost all of my effort to even ask that question out, the girl seated opposite me sat silently, clearly occupied on whatever she was writing on the table. Upon closer inspection I realized that she had her ears covered with earphones; the constant supply of music perhaps cleverly eliminating all sorts of noise that came from the cafeteria. It was probably something I would do as well, so I was not really surprised that she didn’t hear me. Well, the problem was how to reiterate the same message without sounding really rude. The girl was so immersed in summarizing a text from a book, including drawing what looked to me as interconnected hexagons; a discarded scientific calculator lay next to her papers housing a solution with eight decimal places after a scientific notation.

I moved to gently tap on the surface of the table, just enough to get my message across while not being entirely brash about it at the same time. She seemed to have gotten my message as she raised her head up, revealing a really beautiful face hidden behind huge, thin-rimmed spectacles as well as a crown of wavy, black hair. Her face was small, enveloping an eye-catching visual composed of a small face, heart-shaped lips and small details of beauty marks that added to her really alluring presence. She supplied me with a completely innocent and inquiring gaze which quickly unfolded into self-consciousness when she realized that I stood there with a food tray on my hand.

“Y-yes…?” she said with that same, soft-toned voice, almost barely even audible with the crowd of the cafeteria below. “Can I help you?”

“U-umm… sorry for disturbing you b-but… the r-rest of the place is full so I wonder… I w-was wondering if you’re with someone else…”

Holy shit my voice is creaking so hard I feel like I’m going to faint. How do I make it sound as if I’m not hitting on her?

“I mean… you’re the only table w-with f-free chairs so I w-wonder if there’s s-someone else… everywhere e-else is f-full so…”

The girl’s humble yet confused gaze lingered on my eyes for a good while before she caught of the situation and nodded softly. Her eyebrows rose as she did with her body, straightening herself up from the slightly slouched position she was in previously.

“Oh, of course… P-please go ahead. I’m not with s-someone. Please take a seat.”

“T-thank you…”

I was really relieved to find out that she was alone, but now that I was offered the free seat while she moved the rest of her books to give me space, I felt so shy all of a sudden. My body moved ever so slowly to fit my butt onto the stool, and I could have sworn my entire being was shaking down to my very core. I never figured that it was way more awkward to sit opposite her after just interrupting her out of the blue. She seemed so concentrated before I shook her off of her trance.

What should I do now?

Do I talk to her even if know that she’s working on something?

I placed my tray over the space she cleared for me and awkwardly shifted my chopsticks to begin eating. Initially, I expected her to delve back right into the work that she was doing and pay no mind to my presence there, which was fine by my part considering I was the one sharing a table with her. However, she instead shifted her gaze from the tables that surrounded us before knitting her eyebrows in another expression of confusion.

“Umm… I t-think you were d-doing something… P-please don’t m-mind me. I’ll m-make sure that I won’t make any noise, whatsoever.”

“Oh, no, please don’t think about it that way,” she said with a wave of her hand and then supplying me with a very gummy smile. “I am just surprised with how crowded the place had been since I came here. I have lost track of time since I ate about an hour ago.”

She’s been here for an hour?

“Yeah about that… there’s an event and the canteen is teeming with school athletes for their lunch. You know… athlete privileges and all that… Umm… t-the tables below were pretty much occupied by t-them so I… I came up here…”

“That’s… wow… I’m sorry for not responding to you on the first time,” she once again said. “I thought you were just passing by close to my table… I did not intend myself to be rude for not responding immediately or anything…”

“Oh no, please don’t… it’s totally fine. I’m… I’m already comfortably seated here so… I guess it is okay.”

Fuck, it feels so awkward to eat right next to her. It’s as if I just woke her up and there’s nothing she could do afterwards.

A prolonged and awkward silence ensued after that exchange, which mostly revolved around her organizing the stuff that ended up being messy while she was studying. It looked pretty normal to me, but with how frantic she was on gathering the right things to put on her bag, I thought that she was already leaving. I had that idea until her organizing eventually ended on a single notebook as well as a pen placed over the table. I felt really awkward paying attention to her that long that I merely focused back on my meal.

And then, the tables were turned. As I moved to eat the rest of my lunch, she already had her eyes planted on me. Her gaze was so strong that I could feel my senses tingling.

I raised my head up and our eyes immediately met. This time, her expression was curiosity painted over her face. She eyed me with concern yet it was so full of inquiry.

I really don’t know what else to respond to that so I just smiled and hope that I didn’t get any residue food sauce on my mouth as well as of my face.

Don’t make this weird. I have to ask her something.

“Is… is everything alright?” I asked out of curiosity as well as wonder.

“Oh umm… sorry… I… sorry if I stared too long but… okay, I need to ask you because you look so familiar… I feel like we’ve met somewhere that I just could not remember, but I could be wrong. Have we met before?”

There it is. I’m glad that she opened it up. At least it would make this conversation a lot less awkward…

“Actually we have… I’m actually the guy that bumped you at the library before.”

---

The young girl’s eyes widened in surprise, apparently dropping the pen she was holding down towards the surface of the table. She held her mouth with her right hand as she supplied Yoon Jae-in with a look of utmost shock.

“Omo, is that true? Are you really that guy from the library?”

“I… well I am,” Jae-in replied with a chuckle, mimicking her movements by placing his chopsticks on the now-empty food tray. “It’s… honestly it was a part of the reason why I elected to… to interact. I figured it would not be entirely that… first of a meeting, I guess…”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you! I knew you had that sense of familiarity with you, and that you’re not just someone who had a familiar face to begin with… I knew it. I knew that I talked to you from somewhere; I just can’t quite put my finger on when we talked. Oh my, I should have known!”

“No, no, it’s fine… it was just easier for my part, I guess. It’s no big deal. Besides, you seem to be more…”

Jae-in glanced towards the bag that she had with her.

“…You seemed to be more occupied on a lot of stuff than me, so there’s that as well.”

Jae-in’s so-called ‘library girl’ returned his statement with another gummy smile, unconsciously tucking her hair behind her right ear until she eventually excused it with a soft head scratch.

“It’s… it’s nothing… It’s crazy that… that we met almost in the exact same way. We saw each other again when I’m occupied with all my academic stuff… you must think that I’m a book worm or something…”

“If that’s the case I don’t really think that it’s necessarily bad… plus, I don’t really think that way. We’re all looking for some ways to study, right? I guess I’ll just have to thank that you’re not doing it at the library during this time. At lease I got a seat for it.”

 “I can’t agree more to that… otherwise you’d end up eating while standing, right?”

With that, the pair of them smiled at each other and then proceeded to laugh.

I’m feeling so strangely at ease with this conversation. It’s amazing.

“So,” Jae-in opened up, now in better confidence with the comfort of the conversation. “I recognized some books you had a while back; including those when I accidentally collided into you before… are you studying in engineering as well?”

She nodded in response, rather enthusiastically that time which was followed oddly by a short silence.

“Yeah… I’m taking Chemical Engineering. How ‘bout you; are you in engineering as well?”

“Actually I am… I don’t think it shows that much but I actually am.”

“Ah, I had that impression about you. What major?”

“Haven’t quite decided yet but I’m heavily leaning towards Mechanical. It kind of interests me to do so.”

“I see… if you’re still not decided, does that mean you’re in your second year?”

“Umm… yeah…? You talk… as if you’re… not… are you?”

Jae-in’s  library girl nodded silently and rather softly, carefully retreating from her chair as she moved to recline on the backrest, all while taking her glasses off in the process. She then rested her elbow on the table’s surface and proceeded to support her chin with her palm. It was, especially to Jae-in, an act that was unexpectedly cute; quite more emphasized on the curiously amused expression that came with it. However, it made things a bit awkward in the silence, not until she finally spoke once again.

“I think, judging by the subjects alone, that I’m actually a year older than you… I can’t be sure.”

Oh, is that right?

Wait…

Fuck, I’ve been talking so informally since I began to sit with her!

I didn’t know that she was my noona!

“Oh sorry n—“

“Wait, I know what you’re thinking and don’t proceed with it,” Library Girl interrupted while raising the hand that was not under her chin. “It is fine and I didn’t find you rude. It made the conversation a lot easier to follow as well. And no, you don’t need to change how you talk to me. I’m quite young, maybe started school earlier than most would so I bet if I’m older than you, then it maybe just be a couple of months so no big deal.”

“A-are you sure about that…? It would not be weird…?”

She shook her head.

“It would be weirder if you decide to call me ‘noona’ now that I just asked you to drop it, wouldn’t it? It’s okay. I really don’t mind.”

“Okay then…”

RING

Whatever saves Jae-in thought after that sudden revelation, it was immediately flushed down the drain as he was interrupted by the school bell. Clearly, it was the hourly school reminder bell, quite more prominent now that he was in the main building of the campus. It was so shrill and loud that it stunned his ears for a short bit while it lasted.

To his surprise, Library Girl actually moved to gather the final pieces of her school supplies into one pile and carefully placed them back on the bag, along with the other books and research notes she had when Jae-in first arrive there. She then proceeded to brush her shirt clean, shook her hair off in waves to even them out, and then proceeded to speak to Jae-in once again.

“It was nice to finally meet you, but I’m afraid that I’ll have to go now. I actually was staying here to kill time because I have a bit of a free time before my subject. So, at least then you can enjoy the table to yourself.”

“Oh, no worries… thank you for letting me sit down and chat for a bit. At least I didn’t bump you again.”

She chuckled

 “At least this time, we mutually bumped into each other, right?”

She finally stood up and supplied him a smile once more like it was a farewell, and then moved to pick up her food tray devoid of dishes left waiting on the side.

“Wait, wait,” Jae-in interrupted. “Please just leave that. I’ll take care of it once I turn in mine. It’s just the least I can do to thank you for letting me share the table with you. I got this.”

“Alright, alright,” she replied as she withdrew her outstretched hand from the tray. “I appreciate that. You don’t really need to thank me, but I appreciate it nonetheless. I’ll be the one to thank you. I’ll be heading off then. Please enjoy your day!”

Jae-in and the aforementioned Library Girl mutually bowed in courtesy with the young girl replacing the chair she used back on the table’s seat. She then turned around the round perimeter of the table and passed Yoon Jae-in one last time, moving towards the very entrance path that he came in almost half an hour ago.

And then there was a jolt to the young man’s mind. For a split second, he felt his heart stop upon realizing a very vital thing he nearly missed on that very encounter.

“Wait, please wait,” he said once again. That time he finally rose from his chair and darted towards the young girl in attempt to still reach her. Luckily for him, she hadn’t really picked up her pace yet and the two of them met quite a few tables away from where they originally sat on. The Library Girl turned in place to face him once more, her eyes in visible confusion as her face was held in inquiry.

“Sorry,” Jae-in began with nod. “I didn’t get your name last time because I was in such a rush. I can’t just remember you to be the Library Girl from now on, can I?”

She chuckled in response, quite amused with the ample nickname given to her.

“That would be funny if you did remember me that way,” she replied as she finally stretched her hand, offering a handshake to Yoon Jae-in.

“I’m Mina… Myoui Mina. It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Jae-in… Yoon Jae-in…” he finished for her, taking the outstretched hand of Myoui Mina to finally shake it, honestly having her soft palms rest against his to be quite a relieving sensation.

“Yoon Jae-in… okay; I’ll remember that. I’ll make sure to remember you the next time we see each other as well. I’ll see you around, Jae-in. Please take care.”

“See you around, Mina.”

And then he stood there, watching the figure of the one Myoui Mina he just met withdrew her hand and pace out of the cafeteria after him. He didn’t café if he looked weird standing in the middle of the busy crowd or in the view of the currently dining students; he simply had that unexplainable elation upon finally knowing the name of the said girl from the library, finally having a face as well as a name he could include to his memory.

Myoui Mina… that’s a really beautiful name…

Next Chapter: One-Eyed Owl

[romanear]

Dear Reader,

It’s been a while, and right now? I feel nauseous. Sort of like I’ve been empty forever, and I didn’t know until now. It was like I had been lying to myself for years to the point I didn’t even notice it. I have been feeling sort of- gross for the past week. I’ve been unsettled and I wasn’t really sure why until I actually sat down and processed what I had been digesting online for the past week or so.

As anyone who knows me- I have always struggled with love. Either I love too hard, and most of the time it wasn’t earned, or I can’t even bring myself to at all. Even when I do let myself love, I have so much self-protection I can’t even properly show them, I’m just closed off, which I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned, yet it’s been so long since my first post I’m not quite sure anymore.

A point here, is I thought I knew who I was, but having to be alone for as long as I have been- everything is lost to me. I don’t even know who I am, I’ve noticed things about me that break my heart. I can’t love unless it's an obsession, and I can’t be loved. I somehow won’t allow it. I don’t trust anyone, to the point I can’t even trust God himself like I wish to because I somehow feel like I’m not worth that the one person who would never betray me- won’t betray me? Like I’m not good enough for anyone to truly love me. Which I know is something that just isn’t true. No one deserves more or less love than the next person.

Even still, despite knowing I’m not a hideous person, despite friends, family, coworkers telling me how pretty I am, I just can’t believe them. I somehow just don’t think that if I actually loved someone, that they wouldn’t immediately pick any other option. I know some of this stems from my inability to understand or communicate with others. I’m not the kind of person that can just pretend to be interested in someone, or who can just talk about the weather. I’m not the kind of person that can just exist to exist. I feel immensely, I feel to the point it overwhelms me. That means when I love, I love until I can’t anymore. When I feel sadness, I grieve as though I’ve lost everything. On the rare occasion that I’m angry, it’s not something that is easily able to be forgotten, yet I will forgive with all the strength God has given me to do so.

This sort of thing has always been something I admired in myself, because I believe that loving hard is a rare trait nowadays, and knowing that a lot of my love comes from Jesus, it makes it seem like something I can’t live without, that I don’t want to. Yet, nowadays it seems so misplaced. It seems that no matter who I give my love to- whether it be someone I have feelings for, someone I just want to have in my life, or just- as a way to protect myself- someone famous that I can put that energy into, that I can have hope for without having to ever meet them, something happens and I see their true colors. Sure, not always evil, or bad, but something that I know I would never be able to really give the world, or just that one person, values that I just can’t have.

You see, due to a lot of my issues, I’m not a very.. Sexual person. I have my moments sure, but even before I decided that I wanted to be patient for religious reasons, I’ve never been able to open up to people like that. It actually gave me such immense anxiety to think about showing someone a part of myself such as that. Now, I’m not too worried about how it affects others, but for a while it really bothered me. It was like my fear somehow made me unworthy of being loved, because everyone did it, I was somehow not human enough for not wanting to just- be- with anyone. It was a big reason that I'm only just now finding myself in that regard.

Still having discovered what it was I want, I still struggle with that sort of thing, of trusting anyone in that regard. As stated before, I’m not an ugly woman [ not that I believe anyone is ], and body wise- I've been told a lot I’m attractive. Yet, all those comments, I’ve never been able to care about any of that. I’ve always found myself searching for the soul in others. I’ve always wanted to find someone because of who they are, and I’ve never been one to care what others looked like- half the time I couldn’t even tell you a basic physical attribute about someone unless I was practically in love with them. Maybe that sounds self centered, but it’s not. For me, it was always how they made me feel. If I felt loved, or safe. That’s the only way I could even want to be that way with someone.

That way of loving is great, and I’m never going to feel bad for that being how I view things. It’s always been that way for me, my soul over my body. The problem was, it’s never been that way TOWARD me. For a while that was okay. I liked being alone, and I sort of still do, not having to worry about if someone was willing to be patient enough with me, or if they actually liked me, not just the outside version of me that’s not even going to last past death.

Especially as a single woman in her twenties with these issues, one who has left and returned to the dating market multiple times, it can be very disheartening to be unsure, at least for me. It is also very disheartening when you discover how you can’t even truly see someone’s soul, and the ones you choose to trust, or you choose to let affect you- are the very thing you were trying to avoid. It puts you right back at the beginning, because if you can’t even trust your own judgment, who can you trust at all? Especially when the most disheartening thing of all is that no matter where you look- you are told that if you can’t open up to someone sexually on the first date, you aren’t worth the time. Ignore it all you can, like I’ve attempted to, but it still chips away at you.

I was told that God will not put it on your heart so strongly if he didn’t plan on providing you with it, and I’ve held on to that for so long. I held on to it because I have always been someone in love with the idea of romance and love since I knew what it was. I’ve also always been a very imaginative person, and I certainly did daydream about it as much as my young mind could allow. It just seems though that this world doesn’t enjoy the idea of love anymore.

And, listen, it’s not like I’m indifferent to sex, it’s not like I’ve never experienced it, that I wouldn’t like to experience it again. It’s just never been my main concern, nor is it even in my top five. It’s simply the icing on the cake, but I’d rather enjoy the cake, if you understand what I mean.

At this point, I’m not even really sure what I’m talking about. I just needed to get this all off of my chest. Even if I don’t see the appeal of myself- I feel too loud, too fat, too not really normal or pretty enough- I want to get to that point. I want to love myself and others, and get back to enjoying love like I used to. It’s hard in today’s world, because as I would rather be told that someone enjoys my company, I am instead told that my ass looks good in the pants I wear to work. Or instead of saying I look kind, I get told I look fuckable. Instead of being told you thought about me while seeing something on the shelf at the store I might enjoy, I get told you thought about screwing me in your dream while our friends watched. Instead of flowers, I get groped. It’s not that I hate sex, as stated before, but it’s really hard to enjoy it when you're nothing but a body to them, one that sometimes they don’t even respect enough, and that is something that has been eating at me forever now. I can’t be just a situationship or a hookup. I’ve done it, it only left me empty, and I definetly can’t be the girlfriend of someone who doesn’t like the parts of me that make me me.

It’s why I hide myself away in fiction, in stories, because there you can control the narrative, you can give yourself the love you value and you can show others the love you are looking for. It’s sort of a messed up way to look at it, but if it means I hold on to some sort of hope love is still out there, then so be it. I know it’s still out there, because I still love.

Overall, the oversexualization nowadays has just been difficult for me to process. If you’ve read some of my poems [ doubtful as I really don’t promote the book, but it is on Amazon still ], you’ll know that I am supportive of what others do with their bodies, and how they choose to express love, I just sort of wish I was able to do the same, because then it would all somehow be easier. I know deep down though that it wouldn’t really make me happier. Not unless it was who I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I know it’s okay to feel that way, but it sometimes feels like I’m the only one.

Anyway, this sort of got away from me and turned into some sort of pity post. I don’t want it to feel that way, because conflicting and hard emotions are normal, and someone expressing them is perfectly fine. In fact to me- encouraged. I want people to know my mind and my spirit, for someone to love it, and I want to be able to return that to others. That’s always been the intimacy I seek, and even with the sickness I feel from the things I’ve heard and seen from this world, I’m going to continue to try to find that. Hopefully, my poetic, and somewhat really annoying nature- isn’t annoying to someone eventually.

So anyway, that’s what has been weighing on me lately, and that’s what I had to get off my chest. If you’ve actually read this, thanks! As it’s just a random woman’s thoughts about things she can’t control. Much love, and know that your thoughts, heart and soul matter, and you should always be able to express them without judgment, as long as your not purposely hurting others with them of course.

love, romanear

[screampied]

hiiiiiiiiiiiii!!! that’s okay, don’t worry, hope you had a wonderful rest 😌

yes, we do match a lot. i really like talking with you because i feel so energetic to just yap and yap and yap. some things happened last night and this morning regarding a mutual i have-used to have and now i’m not in the mood to keep interacting with people. except, obviously, you. i don’t know, some people in here are so…weird. it got me really sad, i almost decided to deactivate, but said fuck them, i’m not in here for people i’m here to post my silly little thoughts about not so little silly men.

sorry for they small personal rant!

ON GOD, my pc is an old fella, and i mainly used the guy for playing the sims. his name is harold, by the way. he did very well on the first month, but boy was getting feed too much CC so he told me to fuck myself and stopped working, what a cunt. i had a beautiful sapphic couple, and one of them got pregnant on accident and i got sad because it’s so boring to have babies and they are so ugly?

nowadays i only watch one streamer and he is from my country, which on any other circumstance i would tell you, but i’m afraid i’m the only person from my country that writes in here for jjk. at least that i know of.

THATS THE REASON I HAVENT YET DOWNLOADED IT 😭 i use my tablet for designing and studying so it would fuck me up real good, and it’s samsung so it glitches so much it pisses me off so bad.

i think you will find out. you see, i really like sending anons to people, but you are the first one i’m consistently sending to the point of having a name (which, btw, i melted with my name on your anons, it’s so cute!!). going back on track, whenever i send i try to make sure it doesn’t look like it’s the real me, but with you i do. as i said, i like talking with you, i feel comfortable, so i just let me be me.

jason is smelly af, just like brahms, you know? but toji jason would smell of that mainly sweat, woods, pines, any type of shit that would probably make me not run away that fast. i don’t have that much of a survival instinct, and if the killer is a almost two meters male i am going nowhere.

wait, ☝️ nutty 🥺 cute.

I THINK YOU SHOULD DO IT, i love crack fics, i love your fics and loser or virgin satoru (both) is so kcjdkdndkekd got me biting my toes off. pls do, like seriously, i think it would be so cool and fresh. also, the name was perfection. satoru really fixes perfectly in the bimbo box, with the b of bitch. one time i described him as if michael scott and mean girls mom had a white haired baby, and i don’t think i’ll ever come across this type of enlightenment again.

OH, QUEEN IS EVERYTHING. i remember how me, being a younger little shit, would hate everything my older sibling liked, and queen got attacked by me. in my defense, whenever they like some band/musician, they listened to it everyday. first it was fun, then panic at the disco, then queen and now elton john. but soon as they skipped to the next fixation, i became obsessed with their oldest one. also, this boy in high school thought he was the shit because he saw the movie and knew the songs, so i was in the chapel (christian school) with him and finished the lyrics to bohemian rhapsody and he goes “omg, you know queen?” BOY I WAS BORN AND MY PARENTS WERE BLASTING IT ON THE ROOM NEXT DOOR, TF. EVERYONE KNOWS QUEEN.

born to die is my ride or die, my favorite from it is this is what makes us girls because it reminds me of my teenage years, but my favorite of them all is young and beautiful, i am obsessed with the great gatsby and my brain chemicals have never survived the scene about daisy and gatsby past.

sabrina seriously is feeding my writing ideas with this new album. bed chem with gojo, juno with nanami, oh…fucking hell. we really are the same person, i love it !!!

i am petrified of tsunamis. they are impossible to happen in my country, but i still have nightmares regarding them and waking up all frightened. once i had one where people went up to the mountains and still it wasn’t enough.

oh… hm, well, i want to say something but i can’t yet. brasil is beautiful, i get it. my dream place to go is anywhere that i can see northern lights. fuck, like, i don’t know how to explain but just the thought of having the chance to stare into the sky and seeing those lights that look like magic makes me want to cry. another country would be chile, in the desert you can see the milky way 🥺 i’m a big astronomy nerd, so that’s just enough to make me happy. you will never catch me saying this on main, but i would enjoy going to the usa so i could eat their high in calories and unnecessary food. there is something about it that grosses me out but also makes me go hmmm.

question for today is what was your first work posted here and what’s your favorite season?

nutty anon.

NUUTTTTY BAE

that’s valid 🤒. interacting w ppl can get overwhelming sometimes so i understand. im glad u didn’t deactivate ‘n ur still here tho <3 but THATSSS THE SPIRIT. noooo ur fine rant as much as you want this is a safe spaceeee xx

ARGGHHH in the meantime you can always watch playthroughs of lads online !!! like you can watch certain scenes n stuff bc im sure ppl recorded that stuff.

of course you’re on my anon list i just had to make u an official squirtling 🤭🤭. IMSO GLAD I MAKE U FEEL COMFY.

stotppppf ur making me have brain rot about jason!toji now, jus imagine the breeding kink, manhandling, he def gets off at rubbing the end of his machete against our cooch.

THANKYOUU 🤒🤒. omg maybe i’ll do it, i love writing silly shit every once in a while bc why not 💔💔💔. that is such a unique compasrasion to satoru i love it

LOVEEEEE QUEEN. i gen wish i was bored in the 80s or even the 70s. the style always has me gagged like ???? i love how a lot of old vintage styles are coming back also. so real 😭. i grew up around a low of heavy metal / rock & indie. ooh i haven’t listened to patd in a min, elton johnnn ugh i still haven’t seen rocketman. SPEAKING OF did u see bohrap? apparently ppl have mixed opinions on it / rami’s portrayal of freddie but i rly liked it 🧎‍♀️

so true i wanna see the northern lights badly. i also wanna visit scotland for some reason? chileeeee that seems like that would be so fun to visit also !!!!! ur an astronomy nerd that’s so cute 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️. PAHAHA same i wanna visit the us too, i’ve never been outside my country but a lot of my moots are from the us and it seems cool. the first state id had to visit would have to be nevada so i can go to las vegas bc hahahah.

my first work i posted was my fantasize, the fwb satoru fic with the silly cliffhanger hehe. its crraaazy how much time its been since nov. ‘23 i still feel so new 🤧. MY FAVVV SEASON is either winter or fall !!!!

[divinefireangel]

They Just Don't Know You

Soft Yandere! Seo Moon-Jo x F! Reader

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: A 2nd longer fic for our lovely cannibalistic psychopath. I hate that I'm attracted to him. Someone please be my therapist. Or psychiatrist. Honestly doesn't matter. My brain is fucked anyway.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 16+ and written for female reader, but all can read. (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Except that I've mentioned reader is short, cuz LDW is tall 🥰. There is a brief mention of sex, but no actual smut. Reader kinda highkey hates on her parents and younger sister. Read it to know. Age gap between reader and Moon-Jo. Slight obsessive thoughts. Manipulative words. I tried to put plot twist in the end, probably you won't notice it 💀. Please please tell me if I need to add more warnings. Do not read if you start to feel uncomfortable. I apologize in advance 🥺

❗��PLEASE READ WARNINGS ❗❗

Pre-Requisite / Summary: Just a fic based on the song They Just Don't Know You by Little Mix. After watching Strangers from hell I related this song to him for some reason. Reader and Moon-Jo are in an established relationship. And reader's loved ones don't approve.

2.3k ish words My longest fic till date 🥳

" You know that he's too old for you. You can settle for younger, much younger guys for your age sweetheart. If you can't find anyone eligible enough, we will find one for you. And you don't even know if he has intentions of marrying you. What if all he wants is just a fling or some time pass relationship. Hmm? What are you going to do then? "

Sipping her tea silently, Y/N sat next to her dad on the porch swing, listening to all the criticisms he had about Moon-Jo. All his words did was boil her blood. But what could she do when they don't walk in her shoes? They don't know how safe and content she feels when he kisses her like she's the only girl for him in the entire universe. And no point in explaining that to her father anyway. She's tried. And failed. Multiple times.

"Are you done with your tea?" She asks her dad, in desperate attempt to try and get away from him and his words because she knows, and even he knows that it's going to end up in a fight if they continue to speak on the same topic.

Humming yes, he hands her his tea cup which she takes to the kitchen so she can help her mom with dinner. Placing them in the sink upon entering the kitchen, Y/N drags her palms down her face in frustration.

" I could hear what he said you know. Your dad. He's not wrong. Seo Moon-Jo seems like he'll break your heart in three. And we're only looking out for you Y/N. You don't have to go through heartbreak when you can very well avoid it." Her mom finished slowly.

" Why. Why is it so difficult for you to accept the fact that I'm actually in a happy relationship for once in my life. So what if he's much older than I am? He's a dentist. A doctor. A very good profession and he's known and well respected in his neighbourhood too. " Y/N said loud enough for her dad also to hear.

Huffing in annoyance she left the kitchen to go upstairs to her room. Or rather the room she shares with her sister. Of course the door is wide open. The younger rascal is always here for the drama.

Ever since Y/N came out to her family about her relationship with Moon-Jo, her sister has become the favourite child, for obvious reasons. And now eavesdropping with the door wide open? That's a new low. But what else can Y/N expect from such a low life who is literally thriving off her own sister's pain and suffering.

When entering the room, Y/N realizes how big a mistake it was to visit her family. And she did not need such snark from a younger, less experienced child.

"Are you that blinded by " Love " that you don't even see how weird his hair is? A man who isn't an idol or actor doesn't need such long hair. He's clearly a fuckboy. Or man whore. Whichever is right. " She said with disgust.

'She's just jealous. She's just a jealous bitch. They all are.' Y/N thinks to herself.

" At least one of us gets laid regularly. And just so you know, it's absolutely heavenly when he makes me cum over and over on his fingers and his dick-" Y/N said as her tone slowly got lower and darker and her emotion angrier.

Screaming and covering her ears, the younger girl ran downstairs to her mother, no doubt to tattle on her older sister. Rolling her eyes, Y/N started packing her things, all of them, in a bag she took down from the top shelf of the wardrobe.

It's really difficult to leave one's family, but it is clearly getting more and more tiresome to love them nowadays. If it's so wrong to date him, why does Y/N herself not see it? She's a logical and smart young lady. Does her family hate that man so much that they don't even want her to be happy? No matter who she's with. And is it so bad to date a man who's older? Richer? And cares more about her than all of her family members combined?

Wiping the fallen tear stains from her cheek, she just thinks to herself ' They just don't know him. They just don't know him like I do. '

Sending a text to her lover, saying that she misses him and that she's coming back home sooner than planned, Y/N carries her bag through the front door, her parents and sister ignoring her as she leaves and walks out that door one final time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once reaching their shared apartment, Y/N collapsed into her lover's arms the moment he opens the door, crying her eyes out. Seeing his lover in turmoil, shedding a tear or two of his own, Moon-Jo carries her to the living room couch to cradle her like a child who needs attention.

" They- They said -"

" Shh my darling. I know. " Moon-Jo said, shushing his girlfriend and giving her a shoulder to cry on. Once she's calmed a little, her sobs turning to sniffs, she lifts her head to meet his gaze.

Seeing her sad, tear stained eyes always upset him. More than anything in the world. Running his long slender fingers across her cheeks and jaw, he removes her hair from her ponytail with his free hand and rests it on her thigh.

" Tell me. Please tell me that you won't break my heart like them. That you won't try to tear my world apart like them. " Y/N looked desperately at him, wanting so badly to know that he's not just using her.

Those words, that slipped out her mouth, shocked Moon-Jo, to say the least. What did he do wrong? What did her family fill her head with?

Tilting his head to a little, he looks into her red eyes, trying to read her mind for a moment, all the while she just looked at him with the same desperate expression.

"Please tell me that you will be there when I need you the most. " Y/N whispered so softly, she herself barely heard it. But the end of the sentence, she started crying all over again.

Taking her head to his neck, he stroked her hair and her sides, trying to calm her down.

" Darling. I promise with my everything, that I will never leave you, I will never ever let you go. That I will do anything, anything necessary to prove my love to you. "

"No, oh dear no. That's not, you don't have- have to do anything at all to make me believe you love me. I'm sorry I asked such a stupid question. " She sobbed out.

Shushing her softly again, he rocks their bodies back and forth, till she's calmed and fallen asleep there, in his arms. Knowing that his arms are her only safe place for her from now on, he takes her delicate figure to the bedroom.

Placing her on her side of the bed, he lays down on his. Staring at her stunning face, he feather touches her face with his fingertips, memorizing every curve, every little detail on her, like a sculptor admiring his work and giving it the finishing touches.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

" So, I did a little digging on your sugar daddy. "

" Why?! And he's not my sugar daddy. " Y/N said in disbelief. No. Not her dear best friend too.

" I know you said not to and I'm sorry. But I am worried about you. He made you leave your family Y/N. " They stated with worry and sympathy.

" No. He didn't make me leave them. I left them by choice. They don't see him like I do. And clearly, they hate that I'm happy with him. " Y/N finished as they sat down at the lunch table.

" Y/N..... "

" What? Even you don't want me to be happy? " She questioned her friend in disbelief. Laughing sarcastically Y/N shook her head.

" I've heard rumours! Okay? He was in the orphanage that had that severe fire explosion. And most of the culprits from that incident are MIA. What if he's one of the people who caused it?! " They said in a whisper, worried that the neighbouring people can hear their conversation.

" Do you really think that? All of that is just a rumour. And he's told me about it. He's told me everything. Unlike my parents who so desperately tried to tie me down to an arranged marriage. "

" He's not good for you. I know you deserve better. Okay he may make happy and all but what if he leaves? What if he just uses you and drops you like you were nothing? We're just trying to make sure you don't get hurt Y/N. Physically and emotionally. " They finished.

" This, all what you said, is cheap talk. But it'll eventually wear down because when we get married and have kids and all that in the future, you're all going to look like fools. And I will proudly say ' I told you so '. "

" If that's the case then I am the happiest person for you. Hopefully I won't have to be the one to say ' I told you so'. "

" Wow. I, just- hah. Wow. Just wow. " She paused.

" You know, I really hoped you would be more supportive or at least tolerant enough to have patience and support me with my decision for my love. " Y/N said loud enough for eavesdroppers to hear audibly.

Of all the people she would have to drop, never even in her nightmares had she fathomed that her best friend would be one.

Getting up from the table, she picks up her bag and leaves without another word, and goes to the only place that has love for her and that accepts her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Reaching home, Y/N notices the place empty. Maybe he's at the clinic?

Shrugging off her bag and jacket she sits on the couch for a moment, before her restlessness takes over and she begins pacing in the living room.

Why are people being like this? Do they hate her so much? They barely know him. Why are they treating and accusing him to be such a criminal! He's not. He takes care of Y/N so much. He loves her so much. He provides for her. He's affectionate with her, more than he's told he thought capable. He's become her ride or die. And she, his.

They don't know him like I do. They will never love me like he does.

They don't know about the love they have. The just see what they want to see. Bloody society dictating whom to love and whom to not. Is it so hard to see the love they have for each other? Can't they just let it be. They don't know the turmoil she's gone through recently; they don't know how well he's taken care of her, kept her happy and same enough to not let her intrusive thoughts get the best of her.

Her thoughts interrupted by the door clicking open. Smiling, Moon-Jo enters with a box, surely containing sweets from her favourite bakery. How can you not love someone so considerate, who does things for you without even having to ask.

Seeing the sad look upon his lover's face, Moon-Jo's smile fades into a frown.

" What's wrong my dear? "

Smiling sadly Y/N just shakes her head, conveying that she doesn't want to talk about it.

Placing the box of sweets on the coffee table, the two hug each other, feeling of comfort taking over them both. She can just stay here, forever, in his arms till the world ends.

" Babe. What's wrong? You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I'll take care of the problem. " Delicately Moon-Jo cradles Y/N's head in his palms, making her face up to him, their height difference evident.

Sighing, she moves to sit on the couch, motioning him to do the same. " It's just people. And what they say. My family was one thing, but my best friend, the person I chose as my family " Pausing Y/N breathers the tears back in, " They were doubtful of you today. How can I live knowing that no one will approve of us? " Y/N questioned looking at him.

" Does their opinion really matter that much? So much so that you are skeptical of my affection to you? " Coldly, he moved back from his seat on the couch.

" No! No. Gosh that is not what I mean. Not at all. I love you and I know that you love me. So much. So much so I would die for you. But there are other people whom I care about. Who's opinions matter to me. And I don't want to let them go. As happy as I am with you, I need them too. They give me joy in a different way, that is important. "

" Do I not make you happy? Are you not content with the love I give you? Is it not enough? " He asks carefully.

" That's not what I meant! You love me more than anyone I've known. "

"Then what's the problem? You don't need those people who don't love you. You have me. You will have me forever and ever. I will never leave you. And you will never leave me either. We'll be with each other till the end of the world darling. "

Nodding with a small smile you looked down at your feet.

Unhappy with your action, Moon-Jo pulls your face up by your chin to look at him with such force, it scared you a little, making your heart skip a beat in fear.

" Do you not love me, babe? " He asked tilting his head to a side, his expression mildly offended.

" I do! I love you. So much. " You finished with a soft tone, cupping his face with your hands.

Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Moon-Jo leaned down to capture your lips with his. Reacting immediately, you kissed him with as much energy and sincerity you could muster, as you head filled with thoughts of doubt.

Had your parents been right? Had for friend been right? Had they all been right all along and you too blind to see?

No. It can't be. He loves you. He's said that so many times. And you love him.

You love him.

You.

Love.

Him.

...

Do you love him, or have you been illusioned into loving him?

[deluluass]

all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions. 

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love. 

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it. 

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on,  muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away. 

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well). 

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!" 

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers. 

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix. 

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't. 

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it. 

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world. 

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.  

It disgusted him. 

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it. 

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways. 

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over. 

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu. 

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy. 

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans  behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.  

"We broke up." 

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence. 

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted. 

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer. 

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult. 

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.) 

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box. 

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble. 

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed. 

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise. 

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it. 

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends. 

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back  tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling. 

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die. 

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted. 

Aya held your face with both hands as she  stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort." 

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed. 

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags. 

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed. 

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way. 

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.  

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.   

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?" 

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes. 

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze. 

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks. 

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was  fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of  anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting. 

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway. 

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.   

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium. 

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks. 

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers. 

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough. 

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation. 

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror. 

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon. 

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it. 

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner. 

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved. 

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind. 

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate. 

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed. 

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.   

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned. 

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here. 

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived. 

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first. 

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled. 

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself. 

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips. 

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?" 

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers. 

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've. 

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you.  Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house. 

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs. 

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against  your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit. 

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck. 

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead. 

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples. 

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all. 

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him. 

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again. 

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head. 

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned.  "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you. 

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits. 

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."

[thestorycfus]

The Sweetest Apparition - Part 3

Pairing: Peggy Carter x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and historian who specializes in the life and legacy of Captain Carter. After Nick Fury uses the Tesseract to bring Peggy back, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. contacts the reader to help her navigate life in the XXI century.

Warnings and notes: Food, mentions of Steggy, mentions of Stucky, very small mentions of war. Other characters are also mentioned. This got way longer than the first two parts, but there’s also way more Peggy here. This series takes place after the last scene of What If… episode one, including spoilers to that episode. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Word count: 2,304

Series Masterlist

It should be a short walk to your apartment, but you made a small stop each time Captain Carter was curious about something. You also got some take out on the way, making sure to pick at least four different options from separate places and a couple of desserts too, since you didn’t know her taste yet. It was a while before you made it to your street.

During the entire time, your chatting was limited to safe topics - how loud and bright the city was, how many screens there were, the amount of coffee options that existed now. You watched Carter fall in love with her caramel coffee and made a mental note to buy her more sweets.

Soon, the Captain would also need to go shopping. Fury had gotten her the formal white blouse and the black pants she wore now, an outfit much more discreet than the uniform she was wearing when she fell, but that was her entire wardrobe at the moment. That was another mission you should handle, but it could wait until after lunch.

When you finally got home, you placed the food over a kitchen counter and gave Carter a quick tour of the apartment. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would be enough for both of you until she was more familiar with this century. The tour ended where it started: in your tiny kitchen. You pulled a stool for the Captain and presented her with the options for lunch.

“I suppose you’ve never tried some of those, so I got a few different meals. Burritos, sweet and sour chicken, calzones and Pad Thai. For dessert, there’s lemon tart and triple chocolate cake. I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Peggy took a seat and examined her options. You wondered if that would be, technically her first meal since the 40’s.

“They are all tempting, but I might start with this one.” Her eyes were fixated on a burrito as if it was the Holy Grail. Yeah, that was surely the first time she ate in seventy years. She dove in, so focused on her meal that you didn’t dare to interrupt. Meanwhile, you took the other stool and picked a calzone, eating it while you watched Carter.

You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that she was really here, and it was surprising that you hadn’t completely freaked out so far, but the prospect of the rest of the day started to worry you. The Captain would certainly have a lot of questions and, if there were inquiries that Fury left for you to answer, they probably pertained more to her personal life than to great historical events.

If the registers about her were right, it wouldn’t be long before the real conversation started. Peggy Carter was too smart to have such a debate in the middle of the street, but she wasn’t known for stalling. As soon as she finished her meal, in the privacy of your (now shared) kitchen, you would have to provide about seven decades of answers.

Before you could try to prepare yourself, she was done with her second burrito. You almost suggested dessert, but the look she gave you left no room for pauses. Carter turned on her stool to face you directly, her posture becoming straighter and her eyes never leaving yours. She was the perfect image of Captain Carter, the hero, the legend who defeated all odds. Still, when she spoke, there was softness in her voice.

“The meal was lovely and so is the apartment. I can’t thank you enough for you kindness, Agent L/N, but I must ask a few things more of you. If you have studied about my life, you must know what happened to Steve Rogers after I was gone.”

You should be ready for that. Of course her first personal concern would be about Rogers. His story with Carter went down in history as a tragic tale of love, bravery and loss. To his last days, Rogers had made it his mission to honor her legacy, but that wasn’t all that he did. How do you tell a person that the love of her life went on to live a decades long, fulfilling relationship with someone else, even though, from her perspective, they were together the day before?

“Please, call me Y/N. And you can ask anything, Captain. I will tell you everything I can.” You took a deep breath, going through the words in your head in search of the best way to let her know. It was best to keep nothing out. Carter deserved that. “Steve Rogers continued to serve as the Hydra Stomper until the war had ended and all known Hydra operations had been eliminated. After that, he stepped out of the suit so that Howard Stark could continue his research with the Tesseract. I believe neither of them ever gave up on bringing you back, but, in many ways, they also moved on to build new lives.”

You made a small pause, in case she wanted to say something, but Carter only gave you a nod, encouraging you to continue. It was impossible to look away from her eyes, or to keep anything hidden when she stared at you with such intensity. Even in silence, sitting still, she emanated a power that kept you talking.

“A few years after the war, Rogers and Stark started an intelligence agency to keep the world safe from threats we could barely understand. They named it S.H.I.E.L.D., because of you. That is the agency I work for, directed by Nick Fury.” There was something poetic in the way that same agency ended up being the reason Peggy Carter was back, but it wasn’t your place to point that out. “Rogers never stopped fighting, even without the suit. He was a legendary agent, working along with James Barnes until they retired. They were also together for the rest of their lives.”

That was the piece of information you feared would break Carter’s heart, but she had a bright smile after hearing that.

“That suits them. All of them.” The joy in her voice sounded so sincere, and you couldn’t help but ask.

“Were you and Rogers… Together? It is said so in the official files, but…” In your studies, you sometimes wondered if their relationship was just a myth, maybe a publicity stunt to humanize the fallen super soldier. It was your job to question the data, but you had never paid that possibility much attention until now.

Instead of being offended by your invasion of her privacy, Carter laughed so lightly and freely that you felt your cheeks getting warm.

“Oh, darling, Steve Rogers had a heart too big to have only one soul mate. He was the love of my life, yes, and I was the love of his, but not the only one. A love so beautiful and dedicated is supposed to be shared. Of course I’m sad I didn’t get to share the rest of his life with him, but I’m relieved to know that he and Bucky had each other. And that’s not to say I’m a being of such virtue that I’m above jealousy. I felt jealous of Steve alright, many times, but I could never be jealous of him with Buck. They fit well together and they were good for each other. They were real, just as Steve and I were. Steve deserved to be loved through a lifetime. I’m grateful that he was.”

Carter’s eyes shined with tears, but she didn’t allow any to fall. Maybe she would let herself grief for the lost possibilities later, but for now she was handling such an emotional journey with more elegance than you thought possible. It didn’t seem to be an act at all. On the contrary, what touched you the most was the honesty in her words. That selflessness of being genuinely happy to hear of how her soul mate lived on without her, in love with someone else, told you more about Peggy Carter than any history book ever had. And that’s how she reacted right after being thrown into the next century, coming directly from a war and landing in a world she didn’t recognize.

“I don’t think history ever made you justice, Captain. The general public thinks of you as a hero, but they’re so far from knowing the person behind the suit... You know, it’s very nice to meet you.” You couldn’t help but sharing a bit of what was on your mind. To that moment, your hero was turning out to be even better than your daydreams, and it was only fair to let her know so.

At that, she gave you a big smile and your heart skipped a beat. You would have a hard time sharing an apartment with this woman.

“You are far too kind to me. To be honest, they never showed much interest on me, suit or not, until I went against official orders and started throwing tanks around and fighting the battles that needed to be fought. I am more concerned about what I am able to achieve, regardless of how they will see me. And there’s no need to call me Captain, Y/N. Heavens, we live and work together now and you’re my guide to modern life. Peggy is fine. And it’s nice to meet you too.” She took the initiative to get a slice of chocolate cake, already making herself at home. You had the feeling that her adaptation to this world wouldn’t be too difficult, all things considered. Peggy Carter would take whatever she was given and make more of it than anyone imagined possible.

“As you wish, Peggy. Speaking of that, there’s a lot I think you’ll like to see about life now. What else are you curious about?” You took your own slice of cake, trying to feel at ease in this conversation. You couldn’t be on high alert whenever Carter was around if she was going to be around all the time, but that was easier said than done. Your responsibilities here were enormous and, to be frank, you were determined to be your best self and impress her, even if just a bit. Maybe telling her about the wonders of nowadays technology would do the trick.

“I am curious about everything. I can’t wait to know all about the development of science, or what I missed in seven decades of sociopolitical turmoil, but there’s one more person I’d love to hear about before we get to that. You mentioned Howard moving on with his life, didn’t you? What exactly was that little menace up to while I was gone?”

Now, that was a rich topic of conversation.

“Well, Stark continued his research with the Tesseract and with many other projects, sometimes along with the US government, and he built a billionaire empire. Weapons, all sorts of technology, wild parties. The man had everything. He has a son, Tony, who inherited the tech, the money and the brains, but with a stronger inclination to heroism. You see, Tony Stark built himself a supersuit, partially inspired by his father’s Hydra Stomper, but with a larger variety of uses. It’s said that Steve Rogers was a sort of mentor to him, but I couldn’t get Stark to talk a lot about it when I interviewed him.”

You couldn’t tell which part made Peggy more excited. She nodded along as you listed Howard Stark’s achievements, as if it was all expected, and her eyes got wider when you told her about his son. When you mentioned Rogers, she almost jumped in her seat. She was already invested, but dropping that name sealed the deal.

“Fury gave me this.” She took two business cards out of her pocket. “It has his telephone number and Barton’s too. Could I use your telephone to call him? I would like to meet this Tony Stark, and I bet Fury would be able to reach him.” 

Giving Director Fury a call from your cellphone felt strange, but how could you deny Peggy that? If the Director gave her the number, he wanted her to be able to reach him, right? 

Instead of dialing yourself, you showed Carter how to use the phone. She looked like a kid on Christmas whenever she was given access to new technology. You would make sure she got a cellphone of her own soon so you could show her everything the device could do. 

She called Fury and you waited as they talked for less than two minutes. Peggy handed you the phone when she was done, with a smile that said she got what she wanted.

“So, what did the Director say?” You asked, anxious to know the outcome of the call.

“We’re meeting Tony Stark tomorrow at 2pm in his tower. Was it him who named it Stark tower or is that Howard’s doing?” She narrowed her eyes a bit, still smiling.

“The tower was built by Tony, so I think we can’t blame Howard for that one.” You joked. “Are you meeting Fury at S.H.I.E.L.D. before you two go to Stark’s?”

“Oh, Fury is not going. He booked the meeting for you and me, if you would like to accompany me.” Peggy sounded hesitant, as if she had just considered that you might not want to join her on that plan. 

"You’re asking me if I wish to be there when Captain Carter meets Tony Stark? Please, if I didn’t get the chance to be a part of that exchange, I would beg you for a detailed retelling as soon as you got home.” 

Your reply made Peggy laugh once more, and you were getting used to that sound very quickly.

[uwurakax]

story of us ♡

pairing: atsumu x f!reader ♡

genre: angst // exes // mutual pining ♡

summary: at an inarizaki volleyball club reunion, you have the unfortunate displeasure of meeting your ex. you swore you’d be fine, you got over him years ago right? ♡

word count: 2k ♡

author’s note: sort of proofread hahwbaha - also not super angsty but yanno haha. been into writing again hehe ♡

♡ (inspired by the story of us by taylor swift) ♡

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t worry! I’ll see you tonight okay?”

It was only for one night, you could survive a few hours right? You sure hoped so. You quickly hung up on Suna, praying that he didn’t hear the waver in your voice. You were sure if you didn’t end the call when you did, he’d have had you figured out.

It’s not like you were dreading this, you had prepared for this night, it was inevitable; it had been planned for months. Were you honestly just kidding yourself? Probably, but you were certain that for just tonight you would be fine. It had been years since Miya Atsumu had broken your heart, and you wouldn’t let those feelings resurface. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t be sad or angry anymore.

“Tsumu.. what?”

“I just don’t think we should stay together after graduation you know?”

“But why?!”

“We’re both going in different directions and it just seems like the best thing for us. I’m sorry, I really am Y/N, good luck with everything”

It was awkward and ugly. You watched your first love walk away from you. Heavy tears cascaded down your face. Black eyeliner and mascara smudged from your fingers rubbing against your eyes in an attempted to stop them from watering even further. It sucked. Just a few moments ago you were celebrating finally being free of high school and going on with a new chapter in your life with your now ex boyfriend. Now you were here, with your eyes swollen and red, and your heart utterly shattered.

You never bothered with love after that.

You shook off the painful memory, deciding that it didn’t matter anymore. That was in the past, this was the present. Looking in the mirror to apply a gorgeous rogue lipstick you noticed your eyes start to slowly tear up. You supposed it didn’t matter how long ago it was, or how hard you desperately tried to forget.

Your heart would still hurt over it’s first holder.

You opted to go for a natural glam look - not something too much, but you wanted to look a little bit different than how you normally did on the daily. Part of you also wanted to show Atsumu just exactly what he let go. Was it petty? Sure, but you figured you earned it a little bit. With a classic little black dress, black strappy heels and red bag, you were ready to make your way to Onigiri Miya.

The Uber ride did little to ease your nerves. The closer you got to Osamu’s establishment, the closer you were to seeing him again. You honestly didn’t want to see Atsumu ever again, already rueful that you even agreed to come to the reunion. You guessed you owed it to the other members; you were the manager back in High School, and why should you let one jerk ruin seeing the friendly faces of the team again? Who knows when you all would be free again? Everyone was so busy nowadays, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Besides, you could ignore Atsumu tonight. No one would ever blame you for it - they all knew what he did graduation night.

The car suddenly stopped, bringing you out of your thoughts. You muttered a quick ‘thank you’ to the driver and slowly got out of the car. Your heart was pounding in anticipation, almost like it could feel the familiar presence of the one who owned it long ago. You wished your heart and head could be in sync, but one was reminding you of the hurt and pain that he inflicted, while the other yearned him despite it.

You took a deep inhale, steadying yourself. You could see the old volleyball team through the windows of Osamu’s restaurant, noting that you were in fact last to arrive. You didn’t want to admit it, but your eyes lingered on your old lover more than they should have.

Finally deciding that you couldn’t stay out in the middle of the street much longer (and the fact that you didn’t wear a jacket), you made your way to the building. Your heels clicking and clacking against the pavement, almost like a beat of impending doom. You couldn’t help but be a little dramatic; after all, what were you to do - you were about to see the only guy you had ever loved and he just so happened to have stepped on your heart.

It was surprisingly easy for you to plaster a smile on your face, greeting your old teammates with warm hugs and a beaming grin. You could’ve almost fooled yourself into thinking that you no longer felt any pain or resentment. That was until you briefly caught Atsumu’s figure in the corner of your eye. The awkwardness and tension was slowly rising inside of you. It was only for a split second but that was enough. You both locked eyes with each other for just a moment, before you both pulled your gazes away.

It was a lie, you weren’t fine at all.

For the entirety of the night, you ignored Atsumu. In fact, you completely disregarded his presence, pretending that he didn’t even exist.

And he did the same to you.

You silently gave your heart an apology, utterly siding with your head. You didn’t know whether this was the right choice, but it was yours nonetheless, and you weren’t going to back out of it now. You weren’t sure if the rest of the guys could sense the cold war between the both of you, though it wouldn’t surprise you if they did.

And they surely did.

It wasn’t that hard to note from everyone else that the ex lovers were tiptoeing around each other. Often noting the minuscule glances the both of you gave one another while the other wasn’t looking. It wasn’t hard to note that the both of you were so firmly stubborn, and refused to even say anything more than a greeting, which was definitely half-assed on both parties.

It wasn’t hard to see the anxiousness on both of your faces when the only available seat just happened to be next to you, and Atsumu had to awkwardly shuffle his way to the chair and plop down quietly.

It wasn’t hard for anyone to see that the both of you were still stupidly in love with each other.

They couldn’t tell if it did or didn’t make any sense. You and Atsumu were that couple. The high school sweethearts. The ones so in love, everyone else thought that you’d both actually make it. It definitely came as a huge shock when Atsumu had broken the news to his closest friends. Osamu could barely hear his twin on the phone, the hiccuping and sobs sounded foreign to him. What he could make out, however, was Atsumu saying “I let her go ‘Samu” followed by a burst of tears.

With both of your backs to one another, you continued on, as if you both weren’t there. It honestly hurt the rest of them to see. The once happy couple, who couldn’t keep their hands off of each other were now scooted on the edge of their seats, desperately grasping at any amount of space they could.

Did either of you know that neither one of you had dated, or been with anyone else since?

You kept chatting away, noting that the end of the night was dawning upon you, and that after this you’d never have to see Atsumu again - at least not for a long while. The night wasn’t all that terrible, and you supposed if this were to ever happen in the future once more, you wouldn’t be apposed to coming again. You felt a slight pang in your chest at that revelation. But it was what you wanted right? You were so dubious about this reunion because of him in the first place, it didn’t make sense to feel this way. You tried to brush it away - your heart couldn’t get what it wanted. One day it would lose his sense, and find another to beat for. The world was a big place, and even though it hadn’t found another, it would.

One day. It was all you could hope for.

As the last few minutes of the reunion drained on, members of the team excitedly decided to spend it taking group pictures. It all happened so fast and so quick, that you didn’t even register everyone piling in together. A phone set up on the counter, and bodies squished together. You had completely forgotten you were situated next to Atsumu. You couldn’t move, no matter how much you wanted to.

It was only for a few minutes, you could endure it.

Suddenly, you were accidentally pushed. Your heels making you unstable, and you tripped right into Atsumu. Both of his hands intertwined with yours, so naturally. It was the contact your heart was craving for all night. You muttered a quick sorry before promptly turning away from him.

For some reason, neither of you had let go of your hands closest to each other. You figured for just one last time, you’d indulge in the feeling of him, and that for once, you’d listen to what your heart wanted.

You smiled, did silly poses, stuck out your tongue, threw up peace signs and everything you could think of. And as you all got ready for one final picture, Atsumu squeezed your hand.

You didn’t hesitate to squeeze his right back.

And after a last click you all cheered and clapped, so thankful that tonight happened. Regrettably, you both had to let go. You savoured his touch, wanted to ingrain his fingerprints in your mind. He no longer made you angry or frustrated. The last few moments made you relive your happiest memories with him. It felt like such a shame to let it go, but you had to. You knew deep down, that your heart would never desire anybody else; but he made that choice long ago. There was nothing you could do anymore.

You’d now go on and pretend like he never existed, like you had been for years. You wondered if it was easy for him. It must’ve been really: he was rich, famous and you weren’t blind to the fact that he just looked better than ever. You were sure girls were fawning over him left, right and centre.

Once your Uber arrived, you quickly bid the boys a goodbye, telling them to enjoy the rest of their night. You were sure they were heading to a bar, and you didn’t want to impose on being the only girl. You’d let them have their boys night. You ducked out, your heels tapping, and the chime bell ringing above the door signalling your exit as you bounced out of sight.

Atsumu could only sigh at your departure secretly wishing that you’d come back and bound into his arms. But thats all it was, wishful thinking.

“Are you really just gonna let her go again?”

Atsumu turned to his brother with a sad smile.

“There’s nothing I can do. I can’t go back in time, and besides, she hates me and has since graduation. As much as I want to, I can’t do anything. Anyway got any booze?”

Atsumu brushed past everyone to head into the restaurants kitchen, hoping to find some form of alcohol to dull his senses and momentarily forget about you. He’s sure if he stayed any longer out there, he would’ve cracked. He was the one to end it, he didn’t have the right to go after you. It had been years, he’s sure you’d have moved on anyway. At least he got to see you tonight, and as short lived as it was, he was glad he got to hold your hand one last time.

Miya Atsumu had broken your heart, and you wouldn’t let those feelings resurface.

You smiled bitterly, looking out at the passing city lights, noting that that had indeed been true, because those feelings never left.

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 24: Finishing Jane Eyre

Finally finished Jane Eyre this week, though since I still have the book and it’s a critical edition, I’m keeping it a little longer to read some of the essays and stuff in the back. I feel like my brain is... not rotted, but way too stuffed full with fannish analysis, since that’s most of the media-response type stuff I read nowadays, post English-dgree, and while there’s nothing BAD about that and I’ve read some very smart things written by fans on the internet, it’s obviously not the SAME as critical essays. So I think this will be good for me. Also, while Jane Eyre didn’t leave me feeling confused, this was the first time I’ve read it and I was largely just fun reading. I wasn’t thinking too deep. I just want someone to explain the nuances and themes to me lol.

And it does kinda worry me that most of the analysis I was able to do, or did easily at least, was very...relationship-y, I suppose. I mean that is a lot of the book. But I felt like it was very inflected by the way I analyze relationships through fandom.

As I read the ending, and I got to the description of the fire and Rochester’s injuries and for some reason it upset me disproportionately. But I’ve had weird feelings recently, like a greater susceptibility to feeling just sad or melancholy, so it might be that. I just felt kind of sick but I don’t know why. It then became clearer to me that the injuries, especially the blindness, were ways of quickly fixing Rochester and Jane’s problems, just as much as Bertha’s death was necessary to allow them to marry legally. Blinded, he needs assistance; he can’t be the arrogant and controlling person he was during their first engagement; the negative traits he perhaps hasn’t fixed or worked through are at the very least harder to lean into or display.

The essay I was skimming was talking about the equality of Jane and Rochester: the initial implications of that equality, the underlying lie of it, and how it is necessary for their happy ending, and now I can’t remember my thoughts without this vocabulary. It is really helpful though!

I just felt like... this is such an I-Can-Fix-Him Fantasy. His power over her, stemming from his position and his wealth and his age but primarily from his sex, has to be taken away for him to be her happy ending husband. But that power is so deep rooted, it’s hard to think of anything that could upend it, even Jane’s new wealth. Rochester by the end is still appealing in his devotion but he can never force her into a life she isn’t interested in or lord his knowledge, secrets, wealth, or physical stature over her. A defanged man.

I did think that one of his glaring faults was that he relied too much on Jane to be a Savior for him; he saw her as nearly magical, the person who would solve all his problems including the problems of his own personality and moral dissolution. That’s not healthy, bro. That also wasn’t solved by the end really except, first, he did kinda find his religious faith without her (through his trials etc.) and, second, his reliance on her literally and physically was cast in a positive light. It’s good that he relies on her for everything! Because she wants to be helpful! Maybe his obsession with her was always part of the fantasy. I found it to be a bit of a red flag in and of itself.

The end of the penultimate chapter, where he “holds out his hand to be led” really got me. It distilled in one sentence the same sentiment as the “defeated eagle” passage, which also affected me a lot. What used to be a manic devotion and need for her that was creepily obsessive and unrealistic, that transformed her into an idealized object without recognizing her as a complete and flawed human, was transformed into a literal reliance on her, which is both softer and more objectively reasonable, and also more easily controlled--a submissive reliance, in a way.

I’ve had such a tough day and I’m 95% sure this is incoherent or, at least, really shallow as a book reaction. But I don’t care! Vacation time!

[donghyuckcuyhgnod]

Would u be willing to have a follow up or pt 2 to guilt flavored cupcakes? If not, could i request a jisung angst that ends with fluff? Hehe 💚💚💚

i tried to fit both of your requests into one :) the beginning is realllyyyy angsty, but i promise it gets better! it’s a bit long, i got a little carried away haha,, but i hope you enjoy <3

(part one is located here.)

“this is all your fault!” jisung yelled, slamming the door he had just walked through, his eyes shining with tears and his voice shaky. out of surprise and shock, all twenty-two of his fellow members had their eyes blown wide. “if you assholes just kept your mouths shut, this wouldn’t be happening right now!”

“jisung, what are you talking about?” taeyong gently asked. even the choreographer had stopped in his tracks upon the youngest’s unexpected entrance.

“them!” he pointed to the dreamies, sitting on the floor in front of the mirror. confused, all of the boys rose their eyebrows. “the one thing that makes me happy—the one person that truly makes me happy isn’t mine anymore because of you,” he spit out harshly, pointing to the five boys who he had initially put the blame on. his phone was clutched tightly in his hands, still lit up and on the page of his call log; your name being at the top of the list. 

“jisung, what the hell are you talking about?” renjun asked, confusion laced in his voice. it wasn’t long before jisung’s bottom lip began quivering, tears streaming freely down his face as he let out an characteristically loud sob. “y/n broke up with me,” he choked out, shutting his eyes so tight as if he couldn’t bare to say those words. he dropped his phone on the ground, pulling at his hair in distress. 

jaemin rolled his eyes, “of course she did. we already warned you, jisung. she was using you for your idol status. think of this as a good thing.” the dreamies shook their heads in agreement. 

johnny spoke up, “guys, i don’t think now is a good time-”

“fuck you.”

silence. complete, utter, silence. jaemin—as well as the rest of nct—was speechless. never, in all their years of knowing jisung, had his members heard him cuss in such a bitter, hateful, and sincere way. shocked wasn’t even the word. 

“what did you just say to me?” jaemin’s eyes were wide, his jaw open in surprise. did he just say what i think he said? 

“you heard me loud and clear, jaemin. fuck you. fuck all five of you. you never gave her a fucking chance! all of you are always so mean to her, and for what? what did she ever do to you? you never even tried to like her. you would push her aside, say mean things straight to her face. you treated her like a goddamned criminal!” his tears were nonstop, cheeks a bright red and eyelids swollen from the constant tears. he sniffled, biting his lip in an attempt to control his sobs. 

“what did she say during the call?” doyoung asked cautiously, laying a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. jisung sniffled again, gaining enough composure to speak.

“sh-she called because her dress was ruined. the dress for the awards, y’know. i paid for it to be altered to her size, and she came by the dorm yesterday when i wasn’t there to pick it up. and she went to take it out of the bag today, and there was paint all over it! and it was ripped in a bunch of places, and when i asked her how she ruined it, she told me that it wasn’t her. but i know exactly who it was,” jisung deadpanned, his eyes growing dark as he looked at the five guilty boys sitting on the floor. their lack of response made the answer very clear to everyone in the room. 

kun sighed in disappointment, “what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“it was her grandma’s dress.” jisung looked down at his feet, his eyes shining with tears again; and not because of the breakup. but rather, his mind went to the hurt in your voice when crying to him over the phone. “jisung, this dress is the only thing i had left of her. and now it’s completely ruined.”

“what?” chenle said. 

“it was her grandma’s dress. the woman who raised her, who died last year. it was her dress and it was the only thing y/n had left of her. and you fucking ruined it, and tore it to shreds! how fucked up are you guys!? she broke up with me because she can’t do it anymore. she can’t handle the way you treat her. she dealt with it for two years now, and this was the final straw. are you fucking happy now?”

the immediate guilt suddenly had everyone’s heart skipping a beat—and not in a good way. a series of flashbacks had appeared in their minds; all of the times when you were at the dorm, making jisung laugh until he couldn’t breathe. the countless times you brought him soup and cuddles when he wasn’t feeling good, or the small pep-talks you would give him before a performance that always seemed to calm him. the way you always cooked and cleaned around the dorm because you knew how hard jisung and his members worked. all the times he had gushed—and gushed some more—about how amazing you were and how much he loved you with the most joyful smile he had ever shown. 

“jisung, we-”

“save it.”

shit. we really fucked up.

—

a whole four-and-a-half weeks had passed when jeno called you. you weren’t expecting to see his name pop up on your phone, thus the reason you gasped out loud. you assumed he was calling to tell you how bad of a person you are for breaking up with jisung—so you didn’t answer. it’s not like you wanted to break up with him; the dreamies gave you no other choice. when haechan called not minutes later, however, you started to grow confused. surely they would give up, right? but then renjun called. and then, jaemin. and then, chenle. eventually, your curiosity got the best of you.

“hello?” you answered nervously, trying your absolute best to stabilize your voice. due to all the crying and frustration, however, your voice came out more hoarse and broken than intended. the other line was silent. 

“. . . chenle?” 

“meet me at the coffee shop next to the dorms in twenty minutes.”

“what? why?” you began, but the line had already gone dead. confused, you dragged yourself out of your bed and made yourself look presentable. well, as presentable as you could, considering the fact that you’d been hibernating in your room out of sadness for the past four weeks.

you arrived to the cafe with a heavy heart. you were sure your heart was going to burst out of your chest at the sight of the five boys who seemingly hated you, sitting around a table with one empty chair. you hesitantly walked in, the bell on the door gaining their attention. you smiled lightly at them out of habit. you sat down in silence, hugging your sweater a little tighter on instinct, feeling small under their gazes. they were surely going to scold you, right? i mean, you did just break their best friend’s heart. but yours was broken, too. 

the boys took in your appearance, and with one glance, they knew you were just as heartbroken as jisung. their younger friend had barely spoken since that day; he would perform and practice like always, but the minute the cameras were off, he was cold and distant. he locked himself in his room every night, forcing jaemin to sleep on the couch. he had barely eaten, his energy and passion dropping drastically due to a lack of motivation. even the fans had started suspecting the changes. he wasn’t acting himself.

haechan was the first to break the silence. “we’re sorry, y/n. . .” he spoke quietly, avoiding your eyes in shame and guilt. your eyes widened in surprise, a shocked huh? coming from your mouth. is this a joke? as if renjun read your mind, he answered your question.

“we’re serious. we never gave you a chance. we were so mean to you and we’re sorry for everything. truly sorry,” renjun said, a glint of sincerity in his eyes. the apology, in all honesty, pricked at a certain part of your heart. like a bandaid being ripped from a wound, and all it took was a gentle smile from jaemin before your eyes were watering. “especially about your grandma’s dress,” renjun added on in a guilty mutter, training his eyes downward. you flinched at his words, remembering the mess they made of your precious grandmother’s dress.

you sniffled, your tears flowing freely now as you cleared your throat. “you guys were just worried about jisung, it’s understandable-“ you began, before chenle cut you off.

“why are you so nice to us, y/n? we treated you like shit from day one for absolutely no reason, and you’re still being nice to us and making excuses for our behavior. we know we’re in the wrong, y/n. you don’t need to say anything.”

you gaped at him, before slowly nodding your head as you cried. you were surprised to feel a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking up and seeing a kind-smiled haechan through your tears. “seriously, why? you’re too kind, y/n.” you could only look at him, muttering a small, “because jisung loves you guys so much.”

your own words made you cry harder, lightly laughing at yourself out of nerves. “i’m sorry for crying like this,” you said, swiping at your red and puffy cheeks, trying to keep up with the vigorous tears.

jaemin lightly chuckled, “it’s no big deal. it’s no different than jisung, nowadays.” at this, your heart nearly ripped in half, and you felt a pain in your chest that you could only describe as excruciating. you looked up at him wide-eyed, stuttering over yourself, struggling to find the words.

“he’s a mess, y/n,” jeno spoke truthfully, his own eyes watering a bit at the thought of jisung cooped up in his room, crying himself to sleep every night. “don’t blame it on yourself. it’s not your fault. it’s ours,” he said.

your cries hadn’t stopped, the people around giving you weird looks and questioning eyes. “please talk to him, y/n,” chenle pleaded, eyeing you carefully. you quickly regained your composure, hiccups now replacing your cries. you thought for a moment, “what if he’s too upset with me? what if he wants nothing to do with me anymore?”

“trust us, y/n. he wants everything to do with you. he needs you.”

—

your hand shook as you lifted it up to the doorknob of the familiar practice room. you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes in an attempt to gain back your composure. jisung and his members were leaving for tour in a few days, and you refused to let him leave without talking to him. you were planning to wait until nighttime, but as you sat in your room with your mind swirling, you couldn’t wait any longer.

you had finally gained the courage to open the door, but before you could, someone else beat you to it. mark looked at you with surprise, an unreadable expression on his face. you quietly greeted him, nervously picking at your nails as you shuffled on your feet.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” he spoke, his eyes softening at the clear distress on your face. you lightly peaked inside the practice room, and mark instantly got the hint. he quickly moved aside to make room for you, an encouraging smile on his face.

the world seemed to stop, then. the moment you walked into the room, jisung had caught your eyes in the mirror. his hair was disheveled, his eyes puffy, red, and tired. the bags under his eyes sadly matched yours, his face looking slimmer than normal and his figure hunched over in a sulk. his skin was red and uneven, a few stress pimples coating his forehead and his chin.

“y/n?” he spoke suddenly, his voice broken, and your eyes instantly teared up at the sound of his voice cracking. nearly everyone was staring at you wide-eyed, and you gulped nervously.

“i know this probably isn’t the best time, but i-i just. . . “ you trailed, losing your voice as you looked at the ground. you looked up again, jisung now facing you with a sad look in his eyes. you sighed, “can we talk?”

—

the door was closed and the boys couldn’t hear anything, but that didn’t stop them from looking through the small glass window. even their choreographer was trying to get a better view, all of them hoping and praying that you were here to get their maknae back. they could only see your face, jisung’s back to the door. you held his hands tightly in yours, your lips moving and tears flying freely down your face.

they couldn’t see jisung, but the way his shoulders shook vigorously was a clear indication that he, too, was sobbing. your regretful words and pleas of i love you more than anything, i’m such an idiot for breaking up with you sent daggers through jisung’s heart. your eyes screamed the words forgive me, please. and how was he to say no to you?

he nodded his head with intent, “i could never be mad at you for this, y/n. i’m such a coward for not sticking up for you-“

“don’t say that, park jisung. you did stick up for me. it’s all in the past now, okay? they. . . they apologized to me. they’re the reason i’m here right now,” you confessed, jisung’s eyes widening at your words.

“none of it matters now, i promise. please, can we forget this ever happened? i can’t be without you, baby,” you cried, the affectionate name sounding so familiar yet so foreign to jisung. it tugged at his heart strings, all strumming for you in every way possible. without hesitation, he nodded his head, a relieved smile taking over his features. 

you practically wailed in relief, taking his face in your hands and planting your lips on his in a passionate kiss; all of the emotions that the two of you had felt over the past weeks were being poured out, your pain matching each other’s in the most intimate and vulnerable way possible. the taste of your simultaneous tears didn’t matter in that moment; all that mattered was that you were his again, and he was yours.

“they’re kissing! i repeat, they’re kissing!” taeyong exclaimed, a series of happy and excited shouts filling the room as the members cheered for the both of you. jisung pulled away, only to look back and see a bunch of prying eyes through the window, all smiling and high-fiving each other at the scene before them. and the best part? the dreamies were the happiest of them all. you chuckled at them, causing jisung to look back at you in amazement.

“i love you so much, y/n. please never leave me again,” he whispered, burying his face in your neck and pulling you as close as he possibly could. your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, closing your eyes in bliss and letting out a sigh of relief. “never again,” you assured both him, and yourself. you basked in his embrace. finally. you were home. he held you as if you were to disappear the second he let go, and in that moment, jisung concluded that losing you was his biggest fear.

[whisperlullaby]

Just Say It And I’m Yours-Ch.2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse/neglect (if you squint really hard), sad Steve, fluff, angst

Words:1615

A/N: Okay here’s chapter 2! I really want to establish the relationship between Steve and the Reader so after this chapter the series of events is going to pick up. Special thanks to @tuiccim and @river-soul for reading through this for me and to @sagechanoafterdark for the gif! I hope you guys enjoy the story!

You woke up the next morning to a text from an unknown number.

Hey, it's Steve. Just wanted to make sure you had my number and I hope your interview goes well. Can I take you for coffee after?

You smiled at the text, shaking your head.

Well Cap, if it goes well we can celebrate with coffee. If it goes poorly I'm gonna need a stiff drink. I should be done around 3.

You put your phone down and started to get ready for your interview. You chose black slacks and a light blue blouse, hoping it projected the soft gentle air you were going for. After a quick breakfast and a final review of the county statistics for domestic violence and child abuse cases, you headed out to your interview.

As you approached the courthouse you took a few steadying breaths. Very little intimidated you, but the thought you wouldn't get this job kept you feeling unnerved. When you entered the courthouse a strange sense of calm washed over you. You felt like you were exactly where you needed to be and it settled your resolve. You were getting this job. As you brought your hand up to knock, the door swung open, revealing an intimidating-looking man. A slow smile crept onto his face.

“Hello there darling, is there something that you need?” the man said, resting on the door jam.

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, “Yes, I am here to meet with the prosecutor for an interview. Are you their secretary?”

The man laughed and shook his head, “Not a secretary. A defense attorney, my name is Connor Pierce.” He held his hand out for you to shake.

You looked at his extended hand warily before taking it, giving him your name.

“Well, darling I’ll let you head in for your interview. Good luck.”

You stepped aside to let him leave. The prosecutor, Amelia Winters, stood swiftly to meet you at the door before pulling you into her office for your interview.

////////

After your interview, you sent Steve a text with the address of your favorite coffee spot. As you approached the café, grinning from ear to ear, you spotted Steve in a baseball cap and glasses.

“Ya know Cap, that’s not as effective of a disguise as you think it is.”

Steve chuckled, “Well it’s all I have, and I’ve found as long as you keep your head low people tend not to pay much attention.”

You smiled. He opened the door and let you in first. After you ordered your favorite beverage and a muffin, and Steve ordered a black coffee you found a seat.

“So, how did the interview go? Did you get the job?” Steve asked excitedly.

“Woah there, I don’t know how it went back in the ’40s but nowadays you don’t get hired on the spot,” you teased. “But I think it went really well. We had a lot in common and even graduated from the same university. Have you ever been to a place and it just felt like you belonged there?”

Steve considered your question for a moment before glancing down. “Not for a long time if I’m being honest.”

You reached out and grabbed Steve’s hand. He looked up and his features immediately softened under your gaze. When your drinks and food arrived at the table you let go of Steve’s hand to take a sip of your warm beverage, sighing in contentment. You looked back over at Steve and found him staring at you.

“What? Did I already spill or something?” You look around to see if your blouse was marked with the offensive liquid. 

“No nothing like that I was just wondering,” Steve began, “what made you go into victim advocacy?”

A warm smile spread across your face as you shrugged. “I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they come from. I wanted to do something that put myself in between the bullies and their targets. No one should feel alone, and everyone deserves a voice.”

Steve looked at you bewildered but with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, I think that’s a very noble reason to get into that profession.”

“Thanks, Cap. I crave your validation and approval.” You joked. 

Steve took a sip of his coffee, “I didn’t think you would. You just remind me of someone I used to know.”

When you and Steve finished your coffee, you went for a walk through Washington Square Park. You were surprised how easily conversation with Steve came, especially since you knew how intimidating you could be. You would tell people it was a job hazard when they asked why you were so loud, but Steve never seemed to mind. As you passed the fountain you saw Steve tense for a moment and look around. 

“Steve is everything okay?” you ask, concerned.

Steve didn’t answer, instead, he just bolted towards the fountain causing you to run after him. As you got closer you picked up the sound of a child crying, and a quick gaze around proved that no one was paying any mind to the child. Steve crouched down and placed his hand on the child’s shoulder.

“Hey, buddy where are your parents?” Steve gently inquired.

At his question, the little boy started crying harder and Steve looked thrown. You approached and placed your hand on Steve’s shoulder pulling him away slightly from the little boy. You crouched down in front of the little boy and started speaking.

“Hi, my name is Y/N, what’s yours?”

The little boy looked at you for a moment, his crying became a bit quieter. You waited for a moment letting him catch his breath.

“I’m Skylar,” he said in between sobs.

“Well Skylar, it’s very nice to meet you,” you stuck out your hand and waited for him to shake it. “This is my friend Steve, he’s a superhero, isn’t that cool?”

Skyler nodded his head as he glanced up at Steve. 

“Now, you seem to be a bit upset Skylar, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Skylar wiped his face, still looking at Steve. “I-is that Captain America?”

You giggled and looked up at Steve. “It sure is. He looks a little weird without the costume right?”

Skylar laughed as Steve scoffed. 

“Skylar, we want to help you but we need to know what’s wrong.”

 You held your hands out flat in front of you and waited for Skylar to take them. Once he did you closed your hands around his and drew soothing circles into his skin.

“I don’t know where my mommy went. I just wanted to play in the fountain and when I turned around she was gone.” Skylar started tearing up again.

“Okay well, that’s easy enough to fix. Why don’t we help you look for her? Would that be okay?”

Skylar nodded and you stood up dropping one of his hands and started walking around the fountain. You looked back to see Steve staring at you, unmoving.

“Well Cap, are you coming?”

Steve shook himself out of his stupor and jogged to catch up to you and Skylar. You scanned the crowd for anyone that looked like they were searching for someone while asking Skylar questions about his favorite things to keep him calm. Steve placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping your movement as he surveyed the crowd.

“Hey, Skylar I think I hear your mom calling you.” Steve grabbed Skylar’s other hand and started walking in the direction of the voice he heard.

“Mommy!” Skylar dropped your hands and ran towards a frantic looking woman.

“Skylar! Don’t you ever run off again, I was so worried.” The woman looked at you and Steve, her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, you’re Captain America! Thank you for helping my son.”

“Actually ma’am it wasn’t me,” Steve gestured towards you. “She was the one who was able to calm him down and get him to tell us what he needed.”

You looked at Steve with an appreciative grin as Skylar’s mom regarded you.

“Well, in any event, thank you for helping him find me.”

Skylar waved goodbye as his mom pulled him towards the street. You looked up at Steve and saw he was already watching you.

“Cap, you have got to stop staring at me. You’re gonna give a girl a complex.” You shoved Steve teasingly.

“You were really good with him. I tried to help but just managed to make it worse.” Steve sighed. “How did you know what to do?”

You scrunched your eyebrows and looked at Steve. “I talk to children every day Steve. I need to know how to calm them down and get them to talk to me.”

Steve pursed his lips together and shook his head. “I didn’t realize you would have to advocate for children too. How do you do it?”

You took in a deep breath before you spoke. “I remind myself that they have already seen people fail them, treat them badly, and make them feel like they are unworthy of any human connection. I could not allow myself to ever be that person to them. I just, I don’t know, I just do it.”

Steve nodded in understanding. “Let me walk you home?”

You laughed at his abrupt question. “Sure thing Cap, but only if we can pick up some pizza on the way because I am starving.”

“Oh,” Steve said shocked. “You want me to stay for dinner?”

“Well, yeah. We’re friends aren’t we?”

Steve smiled checking his phone for any pressing messages. When he saw none he turned to face you.

“I know this great pizza place. I’m buying.”

[nicknellie]

@fireflyingaway requested: willex + waffle house pretty plz

So I did have to do “extensive research” on Waffle House because I don’t have one near me and have never been to one, and that led me to find an incredibly good dessert place literally a ten minute drive from me so thank you for that lmfao. But anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this, I went with getting together (kind of) fluff because that’s my jam, so I really hope you enjoy it!

Smooth Like Syrup

Somewhere along the way, Waffle House had become Alex’s favourite restaurant. He wondered if it was the childhood memories it brought back, weekend brunches spent there with his grandparents who cared for him and loved him far more than his parents ever had. It could have just been the fact that he loved waffles, and with a name like ‘Waffle House’ they couldn’t really put a foot wrong when it came to serving him. Maybe it was just the familiarity of it all – Alex had always found comfort in routine, after all. Whatever the reason he loved it there so much, Alex went to Waffle House at least once a week, more if he had the time. And it was absolutely nothing to do with the adorable new waiter who had started working there for the summer.

If anything, he was ruining it all.

Because he’d been going to the same Waffle House every week for as long as he could remember, Alex was pretty friendly with most of the staff. A few of them had been working there as long as he’d been a customer, so they were on first-name terms and always took a moment or two to catch up with each other once Alex had ordered his food (which never took long because he always ordered the same thing and they all knew that by now). Seeing the same people working there and having the same generic chitchat with them each week worked perfectly for Alex. It was normal, routine, familiar, a social situation he knew how to navigate.

Then they’d gone and hired Willie. It shouldn’t have been a problem, but it was. A problem for Alex at the very least. Not only did it disrupt his routine and catch him unawares the first time he’d walked into the restaurant to see a new waiter, but the waiter had to look like that. Willie was all dazzling smiles and sharp cheekbones and luscious long hair and it was, quite simply, unfair. Alex came to Waffle House to eat, not get flustered over some ridiculously good-looking boy.

For a few weeks, Alex had taken the admittedly immature approach to just avoid Waffle House altogether. Out of sight, out of mind. The only reason it hadn’t lasted long was because he missed the waffles, and he couldn’t find anything to fill that extra hour and a half of his Saturday. So after not visiting for two weeks, Alex returned to Waffle House and resumed his routine, still flustered by stupidly attractive Willie, but most definitely working on a way to stop it being a problem.

His next plan of action had been simply trying to avoid Willie which was foiled the moment he sat down in his usual booth one Saturday afternoon. He had been hoping that his usual server would spot him and come over for a chat, but as luck would have it, Willie got to his table first.

“Welcome to Waffle House,” he had said, beaming down at Alex, who tried to act as if the sudden appearance hadn’t scared the life out of him. He wasn’t sure how well he pulled it off, but Willie had made no comment. “My name is Willie, I’ll be your server today. What can I get you started with?”

Two things had thrown Alex then. Firstly, it had been the first time he’d heard Willie’s name. It was strange to be able to put a name to the face of an angel and he was certain he would never have guessed ‘Willie’ if he’d been given a million tries. Secondly, the fact that Willie didn’t automatically know his order bewildered him. He was so used to the waiters coming over, confirming he wanted the usual, and slipping into easy conversation. This was new and unexpected, and if there was anything Alex hated it was new and unexpected things.

As such, his mind went blank and he completely forgot what he usually ordered. A plain waffle and a diet coke shouldn’t have been easy to forget, it wasn’t anything fancy, and yet Alex made it work.

“Um,” he’d said dumbly, looking up at Willie’s expectant face with his mouth bobbing open and closed like a mildly distressed fish. He could feel his cheeks heating in a blush and looked away as Willie raised a concerned eyebrow.

“Do you need a minute to decide?” Willie had asked sceptically.

Alex had shaken his head vigorously, aware that probably made him look as frantically flustered as he felt and was trying to hide, which only made him more flustered. He took several shallow but slow breaths before forcing words out of his mouth because that was how conversations worked and he refused to lose the ability to speak over this boy.

“No, no, I know what I want,” he had said eventually. “Just a plain waffle and a diet coke, thank you.”

“Is that everything?” Willie had asked, jotting the order down on his notepad.

Not trusting himself to speak any more than that, Alex just nodded. Willie had shot him a bright smile and disappeared off to get his order prepared. The moment he was certain Willie couldn’t see him anymore, Alex’s head flopped onto the table and he let out a long, exhausted, frustrated groan. He felt like an utter mess.

For the rest of that visit, he’d kept it together by simply not talking to Willie unless it was absolutely necessary. Had he been a more confident person he might have found a better way to handle it, but Alex had been cursed with social awkwardness from the moment he’d been old enough to socialise and it wasn’t suddenly going to fix itself just do he didn’t make a fool of himself in front of Willie.

As time went on, things got simultaneously worse and better between Alex and Willie, enough that Alex both dreaded and looked forward to his weekly Waffle House trips. For one thing, he and Willie had got to know each other a bit better – Willie could anticipate Alex’s order now, Alex could just about talk without tripping over his words or saying something slightly embarrassing (which always felt to Alex like something utterly mortifying and worth overthinking because his brain hated him), and if both of them were in the right state of mind they could manage a very brief chat.

But on the flip side, Alex hated Waffle House now and it was Willie who had ruined it for him. Not for any sane reason like being a bad waiter (because he was actually a very good waiter, which Alex thought had something to do with the fact that he always wore Heelys so he could glide across the restaurant which was much faster than walking). No, Willie had ruined Waffle House for Alex because now he couldn’t go in there and see Willie without getting butterflies in his stomach and a giddy grin on his face.

Now that he knew Willie better, it wasn’t just his beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous smile that Alex liked about him. He was talkative, he was funny, he was sweet. He was extremely considerate – when Alex came in one day, Willie met him at the door, walked him to his usual table, told him they’d run out of diet coke and that he had just popped to the store and bought some just for Alex, knowing he would order it. And he laughed at Alex’s terrible attempts at humour, he drizzled the syrup onto Alex’s waffles in the shape of smiley faces, he made sure Alex’s usual booth was always free of people for when he came in. Everything about Willie made Alex’s heart beat too fast and his breath catch and it was starting to make going to Waffle House a very stressful experience.

So Willie was the reason that Alex loved going there and was also desperate to find somewhere else.

But Alex, despite his many worries about life, wasn’t the kind of person to give up on something just because someone else made it difficult. Sure, that rule had usually applied to very different situations, and he actually liked Willie so it wasn’t as if seeing him was a bad thing, but it helped Alex to remember that he’d always powered through things like this and that was what kept him going to the restaurant.

One day, he arrived to Waffle House later than normal. He had come straight from band practise which had gone on longer than normal because they’d spent the first forty-five minutes arguing about the dangers of fiddling with electrical equipment in the rain and decided to make up that time at the end. As such, Alex arrived almost twenty minutes after he normally would have left.

He didn’t spot Willie immediately as he came in and couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Nowadays, Willie nearly always greeted him at the door, knowing exactly what time he arrived. He supposed Willie had long ago given up waiting for him to get there – he had a job to get on with, after all. Alex tried not to feel too sad about it as he made his way over to his usual booth; Willie was a waiter, not a friend, not anything else, and Alex shouldn’t have expected him to wait forever or be there whenever he wanted.

But when Alex came to his usual seat, he was surprised to see someone already sat there. Even more so when he noticed that person was Willie.

Willie looked up as he approached, expression changing from bored to delighted in a second flat. The grin on his face was more than enough to snap Alex out of his sudden bad mood, lifting his spirits and bringing a smile to his face in an instant.

“Alex!” Willie greeted. “You’re here! I thought something had happened to you, man, you had me worried.”

Alex laughed and sat down opposite him, trying to keep his eyes wandering so he didn’t end up just staring at Willie. “Nah, I’m alright. Band practice ran over, is all.”

“I’m glad it’s nothing serious,” Willie said with a small smile. “But if it happens again can you text me to let me know you’ll be late? Just so I know I don’t need to worry about you and I can still keep your table free.”

“Sure, but I don’t have your number,” Alex said, ignoring the persistent fluttering of his heart and the alarms blaring in his head. It seemed as if his mind had pressed its panic button at something Willie had said but Alex was too distracted to figure out what.

“That’s easily fixed,” Willie replied. He dug his phone out of his back pocket and slid it across the table to Alex. “If you put your number in there I’ll text you so you can save mine.”

Heart hammering, cheeks hot, and smile so wide it hurt, Alex nodded and entered his contact information into Willie’s phone. He tried to act nonchalant as he slid it back across the table afterwards, but in his flustered state his aim was off – he pushed too hard and it fell over the edge of the table, right into Willie’s lap. That was one of those slightly embarrassing moments that Alex’s subconscious would likely rub mockingly in his face for days to come and he couldn’t help but wince at the thought.

“Thanks, man,” Willie said, beaming. “It’s just for peace of mind, you know. I really like you and when you didn’t show up earlier I just… well, I wondered where you were.”

Willie wasn’t meeting his eye all of a sudden. In fact, he apparently found the table top very interesting because he was staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe. Alex knew the signs well enough to guess how Willie was feeling then – nervous. But what did Willie ever have to be nervous about?

“Hey,” Alex said gently, lowering his voice in an attempt to calm Willie’s nerves. He leant over the table a little though so that he could still be heard. “I’m here, aren’t I? Nothing bad actually happened. You don’t need to worry about me, Willie. I promise.”

A small, bittersweet smile fluttered across Willie’s face. “Yeah. You’re here.”

The short silence then felt charged, electric, fierce. Why, Alex had no idea.

But Willie broke it, his usual bright smile back on his face as he said, “I hope you don’t mind me eating with you, by the way. I’m on my lunch break and I’d kept this table empty for you anyway so I thought I might as well sit here.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine by me,” Alex insisted. It was a half-truth. Was he happy to have longer to chat with Willie than normal, eat together as if they were friends rather than just a waiter and a customer? Yes. But did this feel too much like a date for Alex’s anxiety to handle, even though it was very clearly not a date? Also yes. He half wanted to ask Willie to sit somewhere else, but that would have been unthinkably rude, so he settled for trying not to be awkward.

Not long later, another server came and brought their food out. For a moment Alex thought it was weird because nobody had even come to take his order, then he remembered that everyone who worked at Waffle House knew what he got so it would have just wasted time if they’d asked. The two of them ate in silence for a while, Willie enjoying his break and Alex enjoying the first food he’d eaten all day.

Their conversation started up again when they were about halfway into their meals. Willie asked about Alex’s band practise, how things were going, what they had lined up. Alex was more than happy to talk about Julie and the Phantoms for hours on end and the way Willie engaged with his waffling on so enthusiastically only fuelled that fire. But in return, Alex made sure to ask how Willie was, how he was getting on preparing to start college, whether he’d had enough free time to skate lately.

It was weird, he thought, that this was their first proper conversation and yet they already knew so much about each other’s lives that it flowed as easily as it would have if Alex had been talking to one of his closest friends. Perhaps he and Willie were closer than he had realised.

He only stayed until Willie’s break ended, which was painfully short. They said their goodbyes, Alex jokingly promised he’d be on time next time, Willie laughed that beautiful laugh of his as he took their plates away, and Alex left the restaurant. He couldn’t shake the odd feeling in his mind, still wondering what had panicked him at the start of their conversation.

It hit him as he was crossing a road, stopping him dead in his tracks and causing an irritated driver to beep his horn at him: Willie had been worried about him.

It felt so much more personal than it should have. If Willie worried, it meant he cared, and if Willie cared then it could have meant any number of things. It could have meant that when he looked at Alex he felt the same featherlight giddiness that Alex did when he saw Willie. It could have meant that Willie spent his days wishing Alex was more than just a regular customer. It could have meant that when Willie asked for his phone number he was actually asking for more than that.

Alex had no idea what inspired him to do it, what unusual burst of courage gave him the ability to go through with it, but a moment later he had whipped his phone out and opened Willie’s contact. There was only one message between them, the one Willie had sent so Alex could save his information, but Alex quickly typed out another and hit send before he had time to regret it.

I know you said I only needed to text you if I was going to be late, but I figured I could text you about other stuff too. Like the fact I’m free next Friday if you want to hang out.

Something like that ordinarily would have stressed him out but he didn’t have the time for that because Willie’s response was almost immediate.

Sure! I hear Waffle House is pretty great, how about we go there?

Alex laughed at how dorky and cute Willie was even over text and replied quickly with: It’s a date.

Willie replied with three emojis – a smiley face, a heart, and a waffle. Even just from that, Alex knew Willie had understood him and that next Friday they would be going on an actual date together. He didn’t care whether it was actually at Waffle House or they tried somewhere completely new; as long as he was with Willie, nothing else mattered.

[heybeybey]

Ready, Set, Don't Go

Words: 1,833

Genre: Angst/Family

Rating: G Summary: Levi may have resigned from the military, but he'd underestimated how much his daughter is as much of a fighter as him and Petra. (Set almost 2 decades after canon events)

Happy Father's Day, folks!

I'm sorry for contributing slight angst today but don't worry, nobody dies. 👍 Also here, have some wheelchair Levi and a teenage Ackerbaby.

And thank you to @levis-petras for being my beta for this fic 💖

- - - -

Levi wasn't much for celebrations ever since he was young. In fact, he only recognizes five dates that are worth commemorating:

His wife's birthday.

His daughter's birthday.

His twins' birthday.

His and Petra's wedding anniversary.

And Mother's Day, but that one wasn't just for Petra. Truthfully, it was also the only way he gets to celebrate his late mother. He barely remembers her birthday, and he wasn't even sure he knew in the first place.

So, you see, he only celebrates when it's all about the people he holds dear. He doesn't really see the point in All Hearts Day or even his birthday. A more cost-efficient option too.

However, it still hurts that he's spending Father's Day this way.

The day started off normally. He woke up to Petra peppering kisses down his neck, greeting him a Happy Father's Day. The twins—Luke and Philip—then came bouncing in, both boys eager to show him the cards they drew for him.

He came down to Izzy brewing tea—a blend his daughter bought for him as a gift—and greeting him with a hug. He'd have to admit that it's been nice to be coddled by his family.

Then came dinner time.

He noticed that Izzy had been uneasy the past few days, and all those nerves seemed to have culminated during dinner. The brat had been on edge the whole day that he had to snap at her to just spill it.

It first started with an off-hand comment about how there will be a ceremony the next day for new military recruits. He sees his wife give Izzy an encouraging look from the corner of his eyes as she stumbles through her words.

Izzy, who's not much of a great liar to begin with, quickly muttered 'I signed up for the military.' and refused to meet his eyes.

"What?"

"I know that you might not agree now and that you and mom had been through a lot," Izzy starts to explain in a rush. "But I know this is what I'm meant for dad! I think there's not going to be a lot of battles to fight and it's more just—"

"No," he cuts off.

Her squeaking words quickly turned into a hiss, and it only got worse when he demanded that he drop her spot.

Soon, Petra was ushering their twins up to the second floor, knowing how arguments between father and daughter can get nasty.

"This is not fair!"

"The answer is no, Izzy," he said, matching his teenage daughter's tone. He rolls his wheelchair to follow her all the way to their house's front door, hearing her rage around the house. "Oi brat, what did I say about banging on the fucking furniture?"

He distinctly hears Petra scold, "Language, Levi!" from upstairs, but both father and daughter ignores her.

"I'm 16 now, dad," she snaps back, ignoring his last comment. "You can't tell me what to do."

Izzy finally turns around to face him, never one to back down. She's looking at him now with fury in her eyes and a retort ready on her lips.

Definitely her father's daughter.

"Do you even know what you're doing, Izzy?" He said, voice finally softening as he takes in the loaded backpack on her back. He feels the weight of her decision then.

"I wouldn't have signed if I didn't."

He'd always had a hunch that Izzy was fond of the military. Too fond for his taste, if he's going to be honest about it.

Guilt pinches him a bit whenever he thinks back to his promise that he would stand by his children no matter the choices they make. Even at the age of 56, he remains steadfast to his belief to live a life with no regrets.

But he'd be damned before he even allows any of his children to enlist.

So the first time she daydreamed of becoming a soldier at the tender age of eight, he had quickly shut down the idea.

"Here, girls like dolls right?" he had said as he pushed the plushie to her arms. He doesn't really give a damn whether she likes toys that are meant more for girls or boys. He'd buy her anything she asks for, budget permitting. But for some reason, that moment had settled uneasily in his gut. "I bought this for you today."

"But I want that one!" she'd screech, pointing at the display of two toy dual broadswords.

Petra had reprimanded him, telling him that he shouldn't discourage their child just because of their experiences. He could only give his wife a worried look in return.

Izzy was 11 the next time she approached the topic, asking him about his time as Captain Levi Ackerman. While he and Petra had moved out of Paradis since the Battle of Heaven and Earth, never even thinking of looking back, Petra was able to keep a few portraits of their team and the other Scout veterans.

Izzy, the curious young teen that she was, found them.

"See, it says here that you were a captain!" Izzy exclaims, eyes sparkling with excitement and reverence. She'd been bouncing to and from the box with the portraits and other memorabilia during his and Petra's time in the Scouts. She then settled down, looking from the portrait of a younger version of Levi with Erwin to her father's scarred face now. Levi feels his hands clenching on the armrests of his wheelchair, his vision starting to blur the more he looks at his former commander's face.

"It's so cool that you were in the military. And that you even had a high position! Do you think I'll also become a captain in the future? Maybe you can train me so I can reach that level! Please dad, can you tell me more? Is that why you have that badass scar? Mom won't tell me anything—"

Brat didn't know that he was there until the end. He doesn't know what they teach in history classes to children nowadays, but he and Petra had agreed that there's no sense in mentioning their time as soldiers and the literal hell they've been through to any of their children.

Not really a good bedtime story for kids.

The thought of his own child witnessing the same shit he and Petra went through was enough to give him a new set of nightmares every night.

"She's young, Levi," Petra consoles him after he sat up sweating from a nightmare. Tears were also streaming down her cheeks as she clings on to his bare shoulder. "She might still change her mind."

The last time Izzy mentioned it, she was 14. Everything was starting to pick up again during that time. Paradis' military, unsurprisingly, was the strongest.

Armin came over to tell them that a new order will be established—a neutral party from different nations that they all hope would promote and retain the fragile facade of peace they all had before one side goes batshit crazy. Arlert had been the same level-headed young man that he was since Levi had to revive his charred ass back in Shiganshina as he explained everything to the former captain.

With this change came a new branch of military for implementation.

Izzy had been starry eyed since then.

"This might be the world's chance to truly fix things," she babbled on that whole day—a mixture of rants about the current state and how everything is being handled, and reverence at the possible future this change might bring.

"Imagine... Imagine being a part of that..." Izzy had trailed off then, eyes faraway but lit up with optimism.

All Levi can hear and see is another Isabel from years past.

Back then, he'd chalked it all up to the fanciful thinking of a child who doesn't know any better. Now, Levi desperately wants to believe that maybe this is just a rebellious teenage phase. He'd been around a lot of teenagers during his time and he'd witnessed how crazy they can get.

Like Eren and—

He tears himself away from the memory before his mind fucks him up further. He and Petra already deals with it on an almost nightly basis, and it's a thought he'd rather not dwell on during his waking hours.

The living room was quiet for a moment as both father and daughter stare each other down. Levi looks at his first-born now—committed and kind like Petra, blunt and fearless like him. The best of his and his wife's qualities mixed together.

But who knows when shit will go down again? Things were shaky enough in this damned world as it is. While he and Petra were able to find their own safe spot to raise their children in, one can never be too complacent.

He'd already lost too much, and most days he wakes up thinking that even his family is temporary. There one day, gone the next.

"I can do my part this way, dad," Izzy finally replies, drawing her father back to the present. She sighs, dropping down her bag and kneels on one side of his wheelchair so they'd be at the same level. "Like what you did. Like what you and mom did."

He remains quiet as he takes in the determination in her eyes. It's the same look Petra would have more than two decades ago when she saves another soldier from being titan shit. The same look his daughter would have whenever she refuses to let go of a toy before bath time back when she was a toddler.

He knows then that there's no swaying her from her decision.

"You're too much like your mother," Levi says, resigned. They even have the same strawberry-blonde bob, he notes. Izzy gives him a sad smile then.

"You're just too old to 'deal with my teenage bullshit', dad," Izzy retorts to lighten the mood, doing her best to imitate her father's previous rants.

He doesn't tell her that maybe what he's too old for is the possibility of losing another person he holds dear.

- - - -

When he sees her off the next morning, already in the uniform issued by the military, he decides that he'd rest easier at night knowing that Izzy believes he's there to support her. He fought for Paradis' freedom for half his life. Why would he rob his daughter from her freedom to choose the path she wants?

"I'm proud of you, Izzy," Levi whispers against her ear as she hugs him tightly, fighting against his desire to beg her to not to go. It may be uncharacteristic of him to want to sob out and cling further to her but damn it, this is his daughter.

But Izzy's breath hitches at his words, and tears soon started to fall. His own arm encircles tightly around her while he supports himself with a crutch. She looks at him gratefully, true joy in her eyes, and that was enough to stop him from forbidding her further.

"You're not allowed to die," he mutters instead—so similar to the 'encouraging words' he gave the young recruits he guided before.

Izzy laughs through her sobs and teases him, "Is that an order, 'captain'?"

"Damn right it is, brat," he replies, fondly ruffling her hair.

[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 4,756)

--------------------

Part Nine: Tubbo II

Tubbo feels adrift.

It’s not an emotion he does well with, if it’s even an emotion at all and not just a strange, unsettling state of being. By all rights, he shouldn’t be dealing with this at all; it’s not as if there’s not anything to do, not as if he’s not a member of Wilbur’s cabinet and not as if he’s not trying to corral the candidates into productive debates and not as if they haven’t just finished handling Sapnap’s pet-murdering bullshit. It’s not as if he’s not busy. Not as if he doesn’t have purpose. Adrift is not a word that should apply to him.

But then again, it’s not as if he doesn’t know why he feels it.

It’s Tommy.

So many things come back to Tommy, at the end of the day. Normally, it’s not a bad thing. There’s no place he’d rather be than at Tommy’s side. But that’s just it, though, is the problem in a nutshell, because Tommy’s side is a place he finds himself less and less frequently.

Not in a literal sense. Tommy’s still around all the time. Is still around him. Physically, at least. But Tubbo’s known Tommy for years, and that means he knows how to read him, which is why it’s troubling that he doesn’t know how to interpret the look in his eyes half the time, all dark and distant, like he’s miles and miles away, staring at something that Tubbo can’t see. Staring past him, past everyone.

It’s scary, if he’s being honest with himself. And scarier still that Tommy’s trying to hide it, that whenever he tries to so much as hint at something being the matter, Tommy laughs and says something loud and obnoxious and deflects and changes the subject and refuses to tell him anything at all. Which is so fucking wrong. Since when does Tommy keep secrets from him? Since when does Tommy have a secret that he can’t trust him with?

Sometimes, he thinks that he’s imagining it, is making up the whole thing, is getting lost in his head and inventing problems where there are none, just because he has been a little stressed recently, what with everything. But then, he’ll see someone else make a sharp motion, and Tommy will jerk away, face shuttering, and he knows that he’s not inventing any of it.

Because Tommy always tries to play it off, but Tommy reacts that way to lot of things, nowadays.

And Tubbo doesn’t know what to do, because Tommy won’t even tell him what the problem is.

So, he resorts to the only action he can think to take. He goes against one of the only things Tommy has told him, that first night when he started acting off.

He decides to talk to Wilbur about it.

“I think there’s something wrong with Tommy,” he says. Blurts out, more like, no dancing around it at all, but dancing around it would hardly help anyone. It’s certainly not helping Tommy.

From behind his desk, Wilbur puts his pen down, signaling his full attention. The sun shines through the window behind him, late afternoon light casting the office in a gentle glow. Wilbur is backlit against it, painting his features in slight shadow.

“In what way?” Wilbur asks. “Has he said anything to you?”

“No,” he says, “and that’s sort of the issue. He keeps acting weird, but he won’t talk to me about it. He just pretends like, like I’m dumb or something, or that I’m making shit up. But I’m not. And then he keeps on acting weird, and it’s like he doesn’t expect me to notice it.” Wilbur’s staring at him evenly, calmly, and he feels a burst of desperation—he’s not making this up, he’s not, and he doesn’t want Wilbur to believe that he is, to believe that he’s jumping at nothing, to dismiss him. “He keeps saying weird shit, and he flinches sometimes, or he looks at people really strangely, like he thinks they’re—like he thinks they’re ghosts or something. Or like Herobrine incarnate—did you see the way he was glaring at Awesamdude the other day when he came by? It’s—I swear there’s something wrong with him, I’m not even joking. Really, really wrong.”

His own words burn a little in his mouth, and his brain summons up a memory: the dark of night outside, Tommy clinging to him with the fervor of a dying man, the sentence like an exploding firework, far off. You have to stay alive.

As if he thought Tubbo was planning to do anything differently.

It takes a second for Wilbur to speak.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, and the weight in his tone prevents Tubbo from feeling most of the relief the statement provokes. The relief that he’s not alone in this, that someone else has seen what he’s seen. “Since the night he gave up his discs.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo agrees, and then he falls quiet. For a moment, Wilbur doesn’t say anything else either, but then he sighs, leaning forward.

“Tubbo,” he says, in that way of his that means he’s about to make a pronouncement of some sort. Tubbo leans in too, mirroring him. “I will be completely honest with you. I was hoping that whatever’s wrong, Tommy was talking to you about it. Because he’s certainly not talking to me.”

He feels his hopes die in his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted Wilbur to have an easy solution. Or a solution at all. Wilbur always seems to know what to do.

But not, it seems, in this case.

“He’s not,” he says, and now the words just taste sour. “He’s not talking to me. He’s never not talked to me. I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

Something flashes on Wilbur’s face, too quick to process.

“Neither do I,” he says, and grimaces. “I’m not fond of that. I imagine you’re not either. I wish I had an answer for you, Tubbo, but I—I’m worried about pressing him on this. He seems fairly quick to close himself off lately. I’m sure you’ve noticed that as well. And he’s not come to me with anything.”

Tubbo’s certain he’s not mistaking the note of despair in his voice. The words, not like he used to, go unspoken. In a way, it almost makes him feel a little better, that whatever this is, Tommy’s not trusting Wilbur with it, either, not trusting the man who he’s adopted as an older brother, and who has adopted him in turn. Or at least, it would make him feel a little better, if it weren’t so damn worrying.

If Tommy didn’t seem to be caught up in something beyond his understanding, or control.

“So I can only guess,” Wilbur continues after a moment. “I considered the idea that something else happened that night. Something he hasn’t told anyone. The only trouble with that is I don’t know what could have happened that he’d feel like he couldn’t share.” He pauses, and when he goes on again, his voice is softer. “He already gave up his discs. For—for all of us. For L’Manberg. I don’t know what would have been worse than that, for him.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “He didn’t—I mean, he didn’t die. He didn’t die, and no one else did, so I don’t—do you think this could be about the discs, still? I mean, those were important to him. To us. But to him most of all.”

Wilbur’s eyes flash again, and Tubbo notes idly that he doesn’t have his glasses on. He probably should—it strains his eyes to read without them, so Tubbo’s not sure why he wouldn’t be wearing them right now.

“Maybe,” Wilbur says. “Maybe that’s what this is. Though I wouldn’t have wanted him to—Tubbo, you know I wouldn’t have wanted him to, right? Under any circumstances. I never would have asked it of him, and especially not if I knew it would affect him this badly.”

“I know,” he says. He’s a bit surprised Wilbur feels the need to ask, but there’s an odd insistence in the question.

Maybe he’s just stressed. Prime knows they all have been, these past few weeks, and Wilbur most of all. He’s running in an election at the same time as running the actual country, and that’s got to weigh on anyone.

“The way he looks at me sometimes,” Wilbur says softly, shaking his head. “It’s as if—I don’t know. I shouldn’t—sorry, Tubbo, I don’t mean to ramble. You’ve got as much on your plate as any of us.” And Wilbur smiles, but for some reason, it feels fake. Plastered on. Like an expectation, the fulfillment of a role.

“I mean, yeah,” he says, shaking the oddness off. “But stuff about Tommy isn’t stuff that I’ve got to put on my plate, y’know? It’s just—important. Not something to check off a to-do list.”

Wilbur’s gaze softens. “I know,” he agrees. “I feel the same way. He’s my—well. You know.”

“Everyone knows,” he says.

“I can only hope,” Wilbur replies. He glances down at his desk, eyes flitting across his papers, the pen he’s set down, and then back up to Tubbo’s face. “But, Tubbo, if I can be completely frank, I think that out of everyone, you’ve got the best shot at getting him to talk to you. He’s—I mean, he’s your best friend, and you’re his, right? Part of a pair, you are. So even if he won’t—or doesn’t feel like he can talk to the rest of us, he might talk to you.”

“Maybe,” he says. “I haven’t had a lot of luck so far.” He frowns. “You really think he won’t say anything to you?”

He almost regrets the question, because it puts an expression on Wilbur’s face. Not a very nice one, and it’s gone in an instant, but for a second, he looks intensely sad. And between one blink and the next, it’s vanished, sort of like it’s a practiced motion, covering up things like that.

No, he’s reading too much into it. Surely.

They’re all so stressed. He can’t wait for the election to be over.

“I don’t know,” Wilbur says. “I don’t want to count on it. I sort of doubt—and this could all be a moot point, of course. Maybe he just needs more time, and we’re worrying about something that’ll blow over. It’s Tommy, after all. He’s always been so resilient. But that means he’s not going to talk about things until he’s ready to talk. If he truly doesn’t want to, we’re not going to be able to make him. All we’ll succeed in doing is making everyone miserable.”

“What do I do, then?” he demands. “I can’t just not do anything. He’s—you told me you saw it, too. There’s something wrong.”

“I know,” Wilbur says, voice rising. “I know, I’ve been telling you that I know. I don’t like it, Tubbo. I just—” He stops, breathes in, and Tubbo notices that his hands were clenched into fists and are now relaxing, fingers uncurling to rest on the desk’s wooden surface. “We can try to be there for him. Be ready when he comes to us. Let him know that he can, even if he doesn’t want to right now. That’s what we can do, if nothing else. I don’t like it. But we can’t force anything out of him, so that’s the best thing, I think. We be there, as much as he lets us. And when he finally tells us what the problem is, we kill it with fire.”

That last part, he’s on board with.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll do my best.”

And it occurs to him that he never told Wilbur about what happened that night, when Tommy came to him. In tears, acting so strangely, his voice wavering and wobbling and his whole body shaking like a leaf.

But Tommy told him not to tell Wilbur. He specifically asked him not to, so while bringing his general concerns to him was one thing, sharing that would be another. He’s not willing to break Tommy’s trust like that. Not unless things get truly desperate.

He thinks they’re not quite to that point yet. He hopes they’re not quite to that point yet.

“I know you will,” Wilbur says. “I never doubt you, Tubbo. And I’ll do my best, too. I promise.” He smiles, and it’s not as warm as Wilbur’s smiles once were, he thinks. But it is genuine, if tired, if concerned, if ever so slightly strained. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Somehow,” he agrees. “Thanks, Wilbur.”

“Of course. You’re always welcome to come talk to me.”

It does make him feel a bit better, talking to Wilbur. Knowing that he’s not alone in his concerns, at least, and the fact that he’s got Wilbur on his side is always reassuring. Wilbur’s like a light in the dark, a bit, the leader that they all look to, and his advice is always sound, always manages to be at least a little bit comforting.

So he tries to take it.

He tries to be there for Tommy, even if it’s difficult, at times, to stop himself from demanding answers, from taking him by the shoulders and shaking him until he admits that there’s something the matter, until he reveals what he can do to help him. Difficult not to react when he flinches, or when he stares at someone like they’re either a miracle or a ghost or something else entirely, or when he disappears without a word of warning only to reappear a few hours later as if he never went anywhere at all.

It’s difficult, but he tries. And sometimes, it’s almost like normal. Sometimes, Tommy grins at him with a gleam in his eyes and a bounce in his step, and they go off to try and rob Sapnap or mess around a little with Ponk’s lemon trees or get back at Fundy for the latest annoying prank. Sometimes, Tommy’s all bluster and confidence and unwavering chaos, and it’s like nothing’s changed at all, even as the elections draw nearer.

Tommy’s been very diligent about those. He even wrote a lot of the regulations, with a seriousness that Tubbo didn’t know what to make of. But the rules have been working so far—everyone’s declared their campaigns, there’s been no unsavory endorsements, no signs yet of voter fraud or other such shenanigans, and everyone running is a citizen of L’Manberg.

Everything ought to be alright.

“Are you alright?” Tommy asks.

They’re fucking around around the base of one of Eret’s new towers. Tommy suggested griefing one, just a bit, as a little prank, but then backtracked the idea, so now they’re just hanging around. Eret’s not even here at the moment, he doesn’t think.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “Just got a lot on my mind, is all. Elections and whatnot.”

Tommy snorts. “Don’t think so hard about it,” he says. “We’ve got this one in the bag. No way we don’t get the popular vote, so long as everyone does it by the book.”

“It’s making sure of that that’s the problem,” he says wryly. “It’s not as if we’ve got an impartial lawyer around here. I’d ask Big Q to help out, but Big Q’s got a vested interest in fucking around with things. At least I can pretend to be neutral. Sort of.”

Tommy makes a noncommittal sound. “You’re doing great, Tubs,” he says. “I’m telling you, this should go right.”

“I’m glad you’re confident,” he says, and squints up at the tower. It’s mostly stone, but nearer to the top, it seems that Eret has gotten a bit more elaborate. Gold glints in the afternoon light, just begging to be stolen. Maybe later, though, and only if Eret wouldn’t be too bothered.

“I’m glad I’ve got something to be confident about,” Tommy mutters, and he turns his head sharply. Tommy isn’t looking at him, is staring off at where the walls are visible, not too far from here. “I worked hard on this, you know. It’s fucking airtight, is what it is. I know what I’m doing.”

“You did a good job with all the rules,” he agrees. “I think Wilbur was impressed with how much thought you put into it.”

Tommy blinks, and then puffs his chest out. “He better damn well be,” he says. “I put so much thought. All of my thoughts, right there. So big and cool. I’m going to write a book of my thoughts, and it will be a bestseller, and everyone will read it and weep, that’s how poggers it will be.”

“They’ll weep, alright,” he says wryly. “Probably from the damage it will do to their eyes. And their brain cells.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy says. “Not my fault you don’t understand genius.”

“Genius is a word,” he says. “You’re right about that. Not sure you know what it means.”

“Why are you the way that you are,” Tommy says, rolling his eyes with great vigor. And then, to Tubbo’s surprise, he grabs his hand. “C’mon, let’s just go—fucking sit somewhere or something, I don’t want to do shit right now. It’s been exhausting, innit?”

He’s on the verge of pointing out that they’ve got a whole place where they normally go and sit, but Tommy doesn’t seem to be thinking about their bench. He leads him a few paces away from the tower and then flops on the grass, laying on his back and staring up at the sky. Tubbo joins him after a moment, situating himself right next to him.

“We’re almost there,” he says after a moment. “We’re almost done with it. Maybe then we’ll be able to get some good sleep.”

Tommy snorts. “It’s never done, on this server,” he mutters. “There’s always something else. There’s always—” He breaks off. “But yeah, you’re right. It should get better, at least. One less thing to try and be thinking about, I suppose.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask what else Tommy is thinking about. What else is on his mind. But the question won’t be welcome, and he’s trying to be open and inviting and supportive, not pushy, no matter how much he wants to be, so he refrains. And Tommy doesn’t say anything else, just lets out a long breath, so for a while, they’re just lying there on the grass, watching the clouds drift by.

It’s peaceful. He can almost forget that there’s so much going on.

And then Tommy speaks up again.

“If I were to get you a baby zombie piglin,” he says, musingly, as if he’s speaking to himself, “would it have to be any particular one? Or do y’think you’d be alright with any? Like, like replacing a goldfish or something?”

And somehow, that’s the breaking point.

“Okay,” he says, sitting bolt upright, “what the fuck?”

“What?” Tommy says. “It’s just a question.”

“No, it’s not,” he—says. He says. He’s not snapping. He’s not angry—but there’s something bubbling up, boiling over, and if it’s not anger, it’s frustration, at the very least. “It’s not just a question. It’s weird. You keep doing this. You say weird shit and you don’t explain any of it, and I’m left trying to figure out what the fuck you’re talking about, and you—you’re not talking to me, Tommy! You’re not telling me anything!”

Tommy sits up too, slowly, eyes wide, but he can’t bring himself to regret the outburst. Though maybe he will later.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Tommy starts, but he shakes his head hard, and the world blurs for a moment.

“That’s bullshit,” he says, and to his embarrassment, his voice cracks. “That is such bullshit. Do you honestly think I can’t tell something’s up? You can say that there’s not all you like, but that doesn’t change what you—you flinch when people get too close. You do weird things. You vanish and then come back without saying where you went, literally ever. You say shit that’s just—that’s just off. And then you try to brush it all off, but you can’t, you can’t brush this off, Tommy. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Tommy is completely, utterly silent. Tubbo tries to meet his gaze, but finds that he can’t, due to the fact that there are tears in his eyes, and everything is swimming.

“I just want to know what’s wrong,” he says, and doesn’t bother trying to disguise his misery. He’s gotten this far. Might as well let it all out. “I want to know what happened to you. I want you to let me help. I want you to tell me things, like you used to.”

“I can’t,” Tommy says, and his voice sounds alarmed, almost pleading, like he’s begging him to drop it. Well, he won’t. If he thinks he will, he’s got another thing coming. He’s let this drop too many times. Enough is enough. It’s time to push. “I can’t—there’s nothing going on, there’s not—not anything that’s a big deal or that you need to worry about, I just—”

“Stop lying,” he says. “Please, stop lying to me.”

Tommy goes quiet again. And that’s setting off all his head’s warning sirens, because Tommy never just goes quiet, but isn’t that just another thing to add to the list? Another response that isn’t as it should be? Mounting evidence that Tommy’s claim of being alright is just a bunch of horseshit?

“It was that night, wasn’t it?” he presses on, and his throat is closing up, but he chokes out the words anyway. It’s sudden, this sensation of being overwhelmed, but he’s powerless to stop it all from hitting. Powerless to keep himself from thinking about how there’s something wrong with Tommy, something wrong with his best friend in all the worlds, and Tommy won’t talk to him. “That night you came to me, and then you gave up the discs. Something else happened. Was it Dream? Did he do something? Or was it before that? Did something happen before you woke me up? Is that why you were crying? You’ve got to tell me, Tommy, please. I’m not letting this go. I shouldn’t have let it go before. I just thought—I thought you’d tell me, when you could, but you haven’t. You’ve been suffering, and I’ve just been watching.”

His voice cracks again. He can’t care.

“No,” Tommy says, almost a whisper. “No, Tubbo, no, that’s not it, there’s not—this isn’t something you can do anything about, Tubbo, that’s all. That’s all it is.”

“Do you not trust me, then?” he asks. “Is that it? Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” This is sharper, louder. “No—fuck, of course you didn’t. You haven’t done anything. You’re fine, Tubbo, it’s all fine, and I’m handling it. I’m doing alright.”

“But you’re not,” he says. “You’re not. You’re not alright.”

He blinks, hard, and the tears clear, finally. Tommy is staring at him, jaw slightly slack.

“I am,” he says, but Tubbo shakes his head again.

“You’re not,” he insists, before he can take that any further. “Why won’t you tell me about it? You know I won’t tell anyone else if you don’t want me to. You know that.”

“I know,” Tommy says. “I do know that, Tubs, c’mon—”

“But then why won’t you—”

“It’ll put you in danger,” Tommy snaps. “I’m not risking you!”

There are so many things he could say to that. Voicing the implication that whatever’s going on, it’s already put Tommy in danger, is high on the list, and it makes him sick to think that maybe Tommy just doesn’t care. Maybe he’s not paying any mind to the danger to himself, even as he worries about everyone else around him. But Tommy won’t listen if he says as much. He can tell already.

So he goes with his gut. Recalls the old conversation, puts together all the glances and the flinches and the stares when he thinks no one else is watching. Draws himself a picture, though he’s sure it’s still incomplete.

“Tommy,” he says, and tries to keep his voice level, steady, “I’m not going to die.”

Tommy’s face crumples like a wet sheet of paper, and there is a long pause.

“You don’t know that,” Tommy finally says, wavering and thready, and Tubbo doesn’t know why Tommy’s so scared, still. He doesn’t know what happened to make him fear this. And maybe he never will, if he can’t coax it out of him. But maybe that’s not so important at the moment, not more important than offering reassurance.

And that, he can do.

“I do know that,” he says. “Look, I’ll swear it right now. I’ll swear it on—L’Manberg itself. I’m not going to die.”

Tommy’s eyes go very pinched and squinty, and he bites down on his bottom lip, hard. Tubbo knows that look, so he extends his arms and tugs Tommy into him, into a hug, so that Tommy can cry without him seeing. He almost expects the embrace to be rejected, but after a moment of stiffness, Tommy melts against him, tucking his chin on his shoulder.

“You gotta have a little more faith in my abilities, man,” he says, aiming for some levity. “I’m not so easy to kill.”

“I do have faith in you, Tubbo,” Tommy mumbles.

“Then let me help,” he says, and decides that a compromise is in order. “Look, you don’t even have to tell me everything. Or anything. But if there’s something I can do, let me do it. Let me help you. Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to be on your own. You don’t have to handle it by yourself or whatever stupid bullshit you’ve been on about.”

“It’s not as easy as that,” Tommy says, still barely discernible.

“I think it could be,” he replies. “I think you’re overthinking it.” He holds Tommy a bit tighter. “And really, I’m not gonna die, big man. And even if I did, you wouldn’t be rid of me that easily. I’d come back as a ghost and haunt you for eternity. Move your shit around when you’re not looking.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Tommy whispers, “and I don’t know why.”

Okay, that’s—okay. He’s not going to mess up the progress he’s made, even though he’d dearly love to comment on whatever the fuck that means.

“Alright, then,” he says, “but are you hearing me? Can you do that? Let me in, just a little bit? ‘Cause I mean, really. You’ve got to be able to trust me to look after myself. I appreciate you trying to protect me or whatever you’re doing, but not if you’re hurting yourself doing it. And not if you’re being stupid about it. ‘Cause I’m not some fragile fucking flower, you know? So can you? Let me help?”

Tommy shifts a bit, but doesn’t attempt to pull back, so Tubbo takes that as permission to keep holding him.

“Okay,” Tommy says, after a minute, voice small. “Okay, I’ll—I still can’t, I can’t tell you much, but I’ll try. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think that I—that I didn’t trust you or some shit, that’s not it at all—”

He sounds increasingly distressed, so Tubbo cuts in.

“That’s fine,” he says. “We’re okay. Just don’t shut me out, alright? Whatever I can do, let me do it. That’ll be enough for now.”

Whether it will always be enough is another question. But, baby steps. Baby steps.

“Okay,” Tommy says. “Alright. I’ll try.”

He’s still crying. Tubbo doesn’t comment on it. Not even when Tommy finally pulls back, and his eyes are red-rimmed, avoiding his gaze. Not even when they go back to L’Manberg together, Tommy staring straight ahead except for when he’s not, except for when he casts little glances over to him, as if to check that he’s still there.

Tubbo’s gotten more questions than answers out of this. But he’s also gotten a promise.

He’ll hold him to his word. And he’ll make a private promise of his own.

He won’t die. And Tommy won’t either. They’re both going to come out the other side, and everything really will be alright again.

[ga-yuu]

~Morinaga~Romantic END~

Chapter 26

*

*

*

----------Part 1---------

Six months later-----

(Okay, with that, today's schedule for a house call is over.)

My full-time pharmacist work had recently been extended to the whole town.

While I was on my way to Morinaga-san's house----

Traveling merchant: "Come on! What's that guy's name again? The legendary guy, who carried a sacred sword to defeat Taira no Masakado.....Ah! Adachi Morinaga! Yeah, him."

Yoshino(blushing): "Ah....."

(The story about the mighty and the fearless warrior is still popular even now.)

Morinaga-san's exploits on the battlefield, censoring out the parts that no one should know, nowadays, is passed down throughout the town as a military memorial story.

(I'm sure that people will not believe what actually happened that night, even if it was real.)

Town girl 1: "Morinaga-sama is becoming more and more popular...how cool!!!"

Town girl 2: "But what's the use? He won't agree to go out with us, anyway."

Town girl 3: "I heard he's got a girlfriend. I've heard some of my friends talking about that 'secret girl."

(That secret girl is....me.)

Feeling a little happy, I started to walk in high spirits when-----

???: "Yoshino. Yoshino..."

(Hm? I recognize that voice...)

I stopped in my tracks when I heard a soft voice calling my name.

A tall figure, wearing a hat, was hiding in the shadows of a building. He slightly raised his hat to show his face.

Morinaga: "What a coincidence."

Yoshino: "Morinaga-san!? Why are you here?"

I reply back in a hushed voice.

Morinaga: "I came to the town for some business, but it's slightly embarrassing to hear my heroic story everywhere I go. I was trying to sneak my way out and then I saw you."

(I see....)

As we finished talking, we both tried to leave quickly, but----

Town girl 1: "Huh!? Isn't that Morinaga-sama?"

Morinaga: "....!"

(We have been caught!)

The people started crowding around Morinaga-san in a matter of seconds.

Town girl 2: "Aww...I finally get to touch him!"

(Umm......excuse me?)

Town girl 1: "You're right They say that if you touch him, you will receive a gift of good fortune!"

Town girl 3: "I heard that too! His luck when gambling is on the upswing..."

(I don't mind about the 'good fortune' part...but not the 'touching' part.)

Kid 1: "Me, me. I wanna touch Morinaga-sama, so I can be strong like him."

Kid 2: "I want to be handsome as him!"

(Who are you going to hit on at this age? Kid.)

Morinaga: "Hmmm...."

Morinaga-san slowly nods his head while the people of the town gathered, throwing their requests one by one.

Morinaga: "Sorry everyone. Today I'm busy spending a quiet day with my precious girl."

Townspeople: "......!"

(He....He just called me precious.)

Morinaga-san turns to me, leaving me with no time to bask in the afterglow of his sweet words,

Morinaga: "Sooooo, Yoshino."

(Hm? Now, why are you smiling like that? What are you up to now?)

Yoshino: "Eh? Ah...."

He quickly pulls my arms and picked me up easily.

Townspeople: "Kyaaaa!!!"

The town girls screamed at the sight.

(Woah! What's going on!?)

Yoshino(blushing): "Umm, Morinaga-san?"

I asked despite I was frozen by the fact that we're getting a lot of attention.

Morinaga: "Don't worry. We're just going to run away, okay?"

---------Part 2---------

Morinaga: "Don't worry. We're just going to run away, okay?"

(Ohh...?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Okay...

2. Am I not heavy?(+4/+4)

3. Maybe we shouldn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: "I think you should put me down. Am I not heavy?"

Morinaga: "You're funny to care about even the smallest things..."

(Phew...)

Morinaga: "You don't have to worry, you're light as a feather."

(This has gone off in a strange direction....)

Morinaga-san turns back to look at the people again.

Morinaga: "You all seem to think that, if you touch me, it will be good luck. In fact, there is one more thing I'm really good at."

Townspeople: "One more thing?"

Morinaga: "Yup."

Town girl 1: "What is that...?"

(I wanna know too....?)

Morinaga: "That is..."

Everyone gulped eagerly waiting for Morinaga-san's reply.

Morinaga: "-----That I can run faster than anyone here."

(Yikes!!)

As and when he completed his sentence, Morinaga-san started running quickly while holding me.

Townspeople: "Catch him!!"

Morinaga: "Thirty-six versus one, so what are the odds of winning?"

(My body is shaking!!)

I hurriedly clung to Morinaga-san's neck.

Morinaga: "Good girl, keep holding onto me like that."

Just then, the cart in front of us tripped over a ditch in the road...

The logs that had been piled up fell and rolled towards us.

Yoshino: "Oh God!"

Morinaga: "All is well."

Morinaga-san dodged the log like a beast predicting it beforehand.

(That was cool!)

The owner of the cart shouted in panic.

Merchant: "Sorry!!"

Morinaga: "I'm fine. Be careful."

Merchant: "Oh! It's you."

Morinaga: "I'm Adachi Morinaga. Please don't come after me."

We vanished like the wind before he could even pronounce his name.

The people who were supposed to be following us were blocked by logs and carts and thus could not follow us.

After that, we kept dodging the people we meet and finally----

Morinaga: "Phew, another lucky day."

Yoshino: "That was a mess."

Morinaga-san finally came to a halt when he reached a deserted area.

Morinaga: "Yeah? Wasn't that fun?"

Yoshino: ".....I admit that I enjoyed the log part."

Morinaga: "I know! That was crazy for me, too."

It's strange how trivial things like that become so important when I look at your sparkling smile.

Yoshino(blushing): "But it was pretty embarrassing too."

Morinaga: "I felt the same too. But, also, I really wanted to run away with you."

(Eh....)

Morinaga: "Forgive me."

As he held me, he stroked my head and my body flushed from just that touch.

Yoshino(blushing): ".....Umm...Morinaga-san...will you....put me down?"

Morinaga: "As you wish."

As and when I was relieved by that answer...

(n.....)

He hugged me tightly and instantly stole my lips.

Yoshino: ".......Mmm.."

A very sweet moan escaped from my lips as my feet were slowly lowered to the ground.

Morinaga: "Your hair is all messy from the wind."

He casually brushes my hair like he always does, but somehow I was the one being more restless of his touch.

Yoshino(blushing): "Enough..."

Morinaga: "Haha...you're so cute that I don't even wanna miss the slightest opportunity to spoil you."

--------Part 3--------

Morinaga: "Haha...you're so cute that I don't even wanna miss the slightest opportunity to spoil you."

Yoshino: ".....You're so evil."

Morinaga: "You're right. I'm glad you understand me."

I thought Morinaga-san's eyes were serious only at such times, and I thought he was sly to the core.

.....................

The evening that day----

Yoritomo: "I heard you eloped with Yoshino, today."

(The news is spreading so fast!)

Yoritomo-sama summoned Morinaga-san and me for official reasons.

Morinaga: "That's quite a story, right?"

Yoritomo: "I know you will still show off Yoshino and make flashy moves on her even if circumstances like that don't happen? I know what kind of a man you are."

Morinaga: "Thanks to that awful trick of Kagetoki, my popularity increased. Now it's hard to even walk around town."

Yoritomo: "Why are you blaming him? You were already very popular from the very beginning."

-----That's true. Kagetoki-san did play a part in creating excitement among the townspeople over Morinaga-san.

Yoshino: "Before the disturbing rumors about the Imperial Court spread, it was immediately canceled by Morinaga-san's heroic story. That's what Kagetoki-san said....so, did that work?"

Yoritomo: "Of course. Now Morinaga is the talk of the town."

(I see. But when I think about it, it's a pity that can't have a quiet time in the town with Morinaga-san.)

Yoritomo: "So, Morinaga."

Morinaga: "Yeah."

Yoritomo: "You also deliberately got Yoshino into your mess to show the people, didn't you?"

(Eh?)

Morinaga: "First, what happened today was not something I planned. But, oh well....I can't deny that I made a conscious and flashy move after that."

I looked at Morinaga-san, who wore a confident smile.

Yoshino(blushing): "Come on...why did you do that?"

Morinaga: "Lately, I had a wish that I wanted to walk around the town with you, so I thought that was the right time to make it come true and also make our relationship public."

(Yeah, now it's really embarrassing...!)

Yoritomo: "A matured lively personality on the outside and a possessive child-like on the inside. This is the guy you're dating Yoshino. Be careful."

Even Yoritomo-sama doesn't let go of the chance to tease me.

(So that's why you said that 'I wanted to run away with you', huh?)

..................

After talking to Yoritomo-sama about my work, I came back straight to my room.

(Morinaga-san' said he still has some work left to do, so I'll just make some medicines to pass time...)

I was currently waiting for him in my old room at the Imperial Palace.

Even after I decided to stay at Morinaga-san's house, Yoritomo-sama was kind enough to let me continue to use this room.

Since I am allowed to come and go as I please and sleep whenever I want, I am able to use this room as my workplace.

(Morinaga-san also said that he would be staying here tonight because he has a training session in the morning.)

(I'll also be with him for my work, so let's just sleep early.)

Yasuchika: "Hm? Yoshino-san?"

(Yasuchika-san!)

I saw Yasuhcika-san outside my half-opened sliding door.

Yoshino: "You were here. Why don't you come in?"

Yasuchika: "Oh, thank you."

I opened the tatami mat to sit down and prepared some tea.

Ever since that night, Yasuchika-san has been under the Shogunate's custody.

(This way, it doesn't make me feel any sadness, but...)

Yasuchika: "How are you doing these days? Are you and Mori-san getting along?"

--------Part 4--------

Yasuchika: "How are you doing these days? Are you and Mori-san getting along?"

Yoshino: “Everything is going well....yes.”

Yasuchika: “..........................That’s great!”

(What was that long pause for?)

Feeling a little insecure, I remembered what happened today.

Yoshino: “------Yeah, something like that.”

Yasuchika: “Hmm....Though he’s got an innocent face, he’s surprisingly very possessive.”

Yoshino: “Hm? What now?”

-----I heard him coughing out some words, but it wasn’t clear.

Yasuchika: “No, nothing. So how do you feel about the rumors about you and Mori-san?”

Yoshino: “It’s embarrassing, of course. I’m worried about the weird stares I’m going to be getting starting from tomorrow. But above all that, I’m very happy.”

Yasuchika: “Happy, huh?”

Unlike his usual cheerful tone, this time Yasuchika-san spoke in a more serious voice.

Somehow, it made me easier to speak my mind.

Yoshino: “Morinaga-san is beloved by many people and is also favored by many women. Sometimes, it feels like a dream, when I think a man like that is in love with me. I was a little sad to see him getting more and more popular these days...But, I feel all of that has been blown away today.”

Yasuchika: “.................I think Yoshino-san is the person that everyone likes.”

Yoshino(blushing): “No, no, no. I’m nothing compared to Morinaga-san’s charms.”

Yasuchika: “------Then, if I say, I’m in love with you, will you believe me?”

Yoshino: “Ah....”

I hold my breath when I realized he closed up the distance between us.

Yoshino(blushing): “Yasuchika-san?”

When I looked at him in confusion, Yasuchika-san gently stroked my hair.

I found myself staring at the beautiful purple eyes that had a slightly different light to them.

Yasuchika: “Did you know? How all your emotions show up on your face. And yet you’re not only innocent but also cunning and strong. You’re really fascinating.”

(What are you trying to imply here?)

Yasuchika: “If you go around showing these fascinating qualities of you, I’m sure you’ll attract more men than Mori-san ever attract women. You must think I’m talking nonsense, but just remember what I said.”

I saw his neat face slowly approaching------

Yoshino: “Hm?”

Morinaga(smiling): “------Abe.no.Yasuchika!” 

(..........!)

Morinaga-san entered the room and grabbed Yasuchika-san’s shoulder with a refreshing smile.

Morinaga: “Are you done playing?”

Yasuchika: “Wow! You’re smiling but I can see a dark aura surrounding you.”

(I can see it too....)

Morinaga: “I’m troubled by the fact that you’ve been flirting with Yoshino, just when you knew I was on my way here. Yoshino, did he do anything weird?”

Yoshino: “No, not at all.”

Yasuchika: “I just felt sorry for Yoshino, who was worrying about something she didn’t need to worry about.”

Morinaga: “......!”

(Hm?)

Yasuchika: “Since, you know, Mori-san was ‘busy’, I told her that lot of other guys will find Yoshino attractive, and Mori-san is the one going to be having a hard time.”

---------Part 5--------

Yasuchika: “Since, you know, Mori-san was ‘busy’, I told her that lot of other guys will find Yoshino attractive, and Mori-san is the one going to be having a hard time.”

Yoshino: “So that's what you meant.”

Yasuchika: “Yup!”

Morinaga(smiling): “Thanks for the advice, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yasuchika: “Then I’ll take my leave. Goodnight, both of you.”

After closing the sliding doors, Yasuchika steps into the corridor.

Yasuchika: “Make sure you take care of her, Mori-san. I couldn’t make her happy....so I’m asking you.”

There was no one to see the sorrowful look in Yasuchika’s eyes when he said those words....

...............

After Yasuchika-san left------

We changed into our nightwear and decided to relax before sleeping....

Morinaga: “What did you guys talk about?”

Yoshino: “Well, he was just passing by, so I called him. It was strange, Yasuchika-san was acting a little weird.”

Morinaga: “Are you curious as to why?”

(Hm?)

Suddenly Morinaga-san pulled me towards him.

Morinaga: “As far as I’m concerned, I’m the only one you need to worry about.”

Yoshino: “Huh?.....Mmm...”

He started to forcibly kiss me and his tongue quickly moves in.

Yoshino: ”Hmmm.....ahhh....”

It was much different than the one he gave me in the town, today. It’s more painful now.

I felt his tongue tracing the sensitive areas of my mouth, and I felt myself stop resisting.

(Ahh...no there...)

He quickly supports my hips with one hand and my head naturally looked upward.

Then, our bodies were on top of each other, and our heads kept changing the angle.....

Yoshino: “Ohh....Mori...naga....san....”

Morinaga: “......Mm.”

As he let goes of my lips, I was already out of breath.

Yoshino: “What’s this...so suddenly....?”

Morinaga: “It’s not so suddenly...”

Yoshino: “Eh?”

Morinaga: “I was impatient all this time because I wasn’t able to touch you all day. Still, I tried to be kind by acting all matured, but....thanks to Yasuchika-dono, my male instincts have been ignited.

(Are you maybe, jealous...?)

I was surprised by the sudden intimate gesture, but after finding out that he’s jealous, my heart was jumping with joy.

Yoshino: “But, I’m sure that’s not what Yasuchika-san meant.”

Morinaga: “Might be, but you don’t have to know.”

Morinaga-san softly whispered to me as if it was a secret.

Morinaga: “I never knew love could be so painful. It’s hard to breathe, ....and yet I can’t help but keep kissing you. I can’t keep the act of a big brother anymore....even if I’m like this, will you still be with me?”

Yoshino: “....Of course. I thought I was the only one who was drowning in you for so long. But I’m so happy, you feel the same way.”

(I want to take away all of you and all you suffering.)

(If this is what love is, then I’ve never known love before.)

The mere act of looking at each other and intertwining our gazes makes my heart beat faster.

We kissed each other as a sign of promise.....

fin.

Main story masterlist

[loudest-subtext-in-tv]

Something I know no one will ever contend with when they just want to write a hit piece about us, but...

When Moffat said on the A Scandal in Belgravia commentary, “If you watch the show carefully, there’s subtext about John’s drinking,” what did he mean? He wasn’t being flippant, he’s said one of his favorite writers is William Goldman and writers should study him because he “knows everything.” Goldman’s Ten Commandments on Writing say to “put a subtext under every text” and not to be too on the nose. 

So what is the “real” subtext to why John drinks, and why does John drink when he’s alone with Sherlock and trying to get him to open up, or otherwise thinking about Sherlock? If the subtext is not about John’s relationship with Sherlock, then like... who else is in the room in those scenes, what’s going on, who is John actually thinking about, and why is it so important to the story that Moffat would include it? What storyline does the subtext of John’s drinking pertain to? It must be pretty big to not have been revealed yet, so it shouldn’t be hard to make a case for.

Similarly: When Moffat and Gatiss say that The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, a movie noteworthy for depicting Holmes as a homosexual in love with Watson, is the inspiration for their adaptation, what do people imagine they adapted from it? Because it wasn’t the characterization, they don’t much resemble the BBC Sherlock characterizations. Barely any plot points were borrowed, and minor ones at that. Why did they pick the big overtly gay adaptation for the basis of their show from a hundred straight alternatives? Why did Gatiss say the thing he liked about it was that Holmes was in love with Watson?

I mean, I know people who hate us will never actually watch it, but the movie is not subtle. The movie isn’t a bunch of gay gags, the movie makes very clear that Holmes is genuinely homosexual and in love with Watson in a deeply painful way that queer people can recognize and relate to, and the same vibe is heavy in series 3 especially. For example, the endings of TSoT and HLV are not gay gags, they are things that happened in the plot and were not presented as remotely funny.

There are two reasonable perspectives on this:

1) It is not especially weird for people who pay attention to what the writers have said about their stories to think all the gay stuff is intentional, and its not weird to have fun chasing down things the writers have taken care to talk about. That’s what fans do, they try to predict where stories are going. No one made hit pieces ridiculing Jon and Daeneyrs shippers because they recognized what the foreshadowing in Game of Thrones was saying, and they were basing it off almost nothing compared to what the showrunners of Sherlock have said and taken care to include in the plot and subtext. People write hit pieces about us because they deeply believe it’s stupid for queer people to think a gay romance could be depicted, we had the misfortune of having a sense of humor about ourselves (calling it a “conspiracy” and ourselves a “cult”), and were enthusiastic about the show and writers whose fandom we’re a part of.

2) The gay stuff is intentional, but all a big joke despite appearances to the contrary. Most of the antis even argued that the gay stuff was intentional, they just thought it was to fuck with people or be provocative. Some of them were even dreading S4, including while it was airing, because they thought we were going to be proven right and we’d be insufferable. If people who hated us worried we could be right, then how delusional could we be?

I can understand someone thinking it all being a big joke is more likely than a TV show depicting a gay romance, but it does not follow that people deserve to be an object of public ridicule because they recognized a bunch of queer allusions and painful queer life experiences that resonated with them and considered that the writers, one of whom is queer and unabashedly obsessed with the works in question, may have positive motives for including those things. It feels like punishing people for doing their due diligence of actually researching the writers’ feelings about things and their influences, rather than just piling on and calling them homophobes. I’m not trying to invalidate anyone’s opinions if that’s how they feel about Moffat and Gatiss nowadays, I’m just saying it’s not some shameful thing for people to actually investigate these things and conclude differently. It’s okay to think writers are talented and clever, and their fandom should be a place where it’s okay to explore that.

What makes me most sad about this is that there is genuinely no area of life where people can just play around anymore without being hunted down. Like, politics is fucking miserable, the pandemic is miserable, I just had a friend kill himself a few months ago because of how bad life is lately, a close relative who I never thought would have suicidal ideation has it now, I have been fighting wanting to die for years, in the U.S. none of us have any idea if we’re ever getting any sort of pandemic stimulus again -- so many of us are suffering immensely right now, it should be okay to be goofy and creative in a fandom without someone deciding its their prerogative to profit off us because they think we’re weird, or whatever. 

The reason there’s a lot of crazy meta analysis is because this was supposed to be a relatively safe, creative place where people can try their hand at analyzing stories without being graded or made to feel inadequate, so we treat metas a lot like fanfics where it’s not really appropriate to just rip people’s shit apart no matter how illogical it is, and we find things we like about analysis we don’t agree with in that same spirit: it’s a cool idea anyway, it’s artistically inspiring, it got close to a more compelling idea, etc. I have a big packet of fan mails where several people told me they had been scared and self-conscious to share their thoughts on things, and TJLC helped them open up and inspired them to major in literary or film-related majors. People start somewhere and it’s cruel to make fun of them because they weren’t great at something that doesn’t fucking matter. 

FANDOM IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A SUPER SERIOUS SPACE. NO ONE PUTS ON A TUXEDO BEFORE THEY LOG IN TO TUMBLR. NO ONE NEEDS SOME OUTSIDER TAKING THE THINGS THEY OFFERED IN THE SPIRIT OF FUN OUT OF CONTEXT TO PRESENT TO A WIDER AUDIENCE THEY DELIBERATELY AVOID BECAUSE THAT AUDIENCE IS MEAN AND SENDS THEM DEATH THREATS AND HOMOPHOBIC AND MISOGYNISTIC SLURS AND SUICIDE ADVICE. IT IS ACTUALLY NOT AN ENORMOUS CHARACTER FAILING TO SHARE BAD ANALYSES OF A TV SHOW, AND SHOULD NOT BE A MATTER OF NATIONAL INTEREST. 

But places where people can open up and try things out increasingly can’t exist anymore, because even in a low stakes environment like a fandom there are busybody ghouls who want to profit off being condescending about how people spend their leisure time. It doesn’t add anything to the world except their bank accounts.