#replies will be mostly queued on all of them for this reason as well as because of irl commitments

[space-station-collective]

Some things we do to help improve communication and trust between headmates!

We have a private discord server with Pluralkit- the most important channels we have in it are the venting channel and the system-chatter channels, for, well, venting and talking to each other respectively

We also sometimes leave notecards or physical notes! Our disability affects our hands sometimes, so if writing by pencil is too difficult, sometimes a headmate will leave a notecard simply saying that they've left something in the notes app on our phone

Relating to the venting channel, we try not to read through other headmates vents and messages unless there's something specific we need or, for whatever reason, it's necessary. This includes vents in our private server, but also conversations between headmates and our friends! Even if we share all the memories (mostly), it still feels more correct to respect that privacy

This last point also applies to things like drawings- it's a bit harder to avoid seeing those sometimes, since we often have to flip or scroll past to get to a new page, but we do our best, especially if the headmate who made it seems to have wanted it more private (e.g. vent art)

We have another spot in our private server where we put links to important messages in servers! In a server with just a friend or two, we can ask that we pin the message, but this doesn't work as well in a bigger server where we may not even be out as plural, so we save message links!

Going along that vein, if something happens that headmates need to be aware of in detail for whatever reason, we keep a log in that server with screenshots and descriptions of situations, so we can properly remember and have a record of it even between headmates

Unless it is absolutely necessary (generally safety reasons), we don't force switches that people genuinely don't want. Sometimes we'll joke that we "forced someone out/in", but in actuality we never do that if the headmate isn't actually okay with it

We do our best to let headmates have things for just themselves, if they want- examples being Wil's glasses that he wears when fronting, Ran's mask (though we need to get them a new one), certain stuffed animals that they've taken a liking to, certain shows/games, etc

I'm sure there's other things that aren't coming to mind right now, but that's a lot of them! We're still learning, and we're lucky to have pretty good communication from the start, but these are all things that have helped a lot. If you'd like, share some of the things you do to help trust and communication in the reblogs/replies!

(Also, re: our private discord server, would anyone be interested in a post about what we have in there, why, and how it's helped?)

-Started by ?, finished and queued by the host (he/it/they)

[scarlet-bee]

[Plain text:

All About Shadowban.

I had no idea about Tumblr’s shadowban until it happened to me. Since then, surprisingly quite a few number of people have texted me about them getting shadowbanned as well. Now that I’m aware of it, I realize it’s becoming increasingly common for legit blogs like mine to get shadowbanned for no reason at all. So hope this helps everyone who has to unnecessarily go through this.

What does shadowban exactly mean?

Basically, your blog exists and mostly functions as it normally would, but Tumblr has made it invisible to everyone else. Tumblr lets you believe that everything is fine and that you can interact with others, but actually you can’t. (Look at the wikipedia definition here.)

Why does this happen?

From what I understand, blogs get shadowbanned since they are suspected of being bots, or just sketchy, or they might be going against Tumblr’s guidelines. I’m not sure, but it might also happen if someone has reported your blog. 

But more often than not, it’s just a tumblr glitch.

How to tell if your blog has been shadowbanned? And most of the things that happen during this state.

(These are the things that I personally went through. It might not be the same for everyone. Also, my main blog (@ that-damn-girl) was shadowbanned. My side-blogs were fine. So in case your main blog is fine but your side blog is shadowbanned, you might have a different experience.)

(P.S. remember that commenting on a post and sending an ask are features reserved for the main blog only.)

The ‘Messages’ section disappears. 

My main blog had no ‘Messages’ section, but my side-blogs did.

[ID: The tumblr app's notifications page, for user that-damn-girl. The only option is "Activity." There is no Messages option. End ID.]

Naturally, you won’t be able to text others. 

Note: Others will be able to text you, and from their end Tumblr will show that the message has been sent and all is fine. But you won’t receive/see any messages.

Others won’t receive your asks.

You’ll be able to send asks to others, and Tumblr would even give you a ‘Ask has been sent’ notification if your post notifications are turned on. But since Tumblr’s made you invisible, whomever you sent it to won’t receive your ask. 

Note: You’ll be able to receive asks. But when you answer it (assuming the ask wasn’t anon), the blog which sent it to you most probably won’t get a notification that you have answered their ask. It might not be visible to them even if they scroll though your blog.

Others won’t receive notifications from your blog.

You’ll be able to like/reblog a post as you normally do, but the original poster won’t receive a notification.

There’s no evidence of you interacting with a post.

If you simply like/reblog a post with 0 notes, the number of notes will change to ‘1 note’. But if you open the notes section, it wouldn’t show you your name, or if you’ve reblogged/liked it.

Can’t reply/comment on any post.

You can type a comment, but when you hit enter, there would be no effect.

Can’t tag anyone.

Even if you can, they wouldn’t get a notification.

Note: Others won’t be able to tag you either. But again, even if they can, you wouldn’t get a notification.

Your blog won’t be visible in searches (assuming your blog wasn’t hidden from search engines and tumblr searches beforehand).

Your original posts aren’t visible in searches.

Quite possibly, your original posts won’t be visible to your followers either (whether on their dashboard, or if they decide to scroll through your blog.)

[Reblogged posts]

If you simply reblog a post without any comments (i.e. without gifs or tags or texts, basically any input from your side), they are visible (i.e. your followers can see it on their dashboard). But if you reblog a post with your personal comments, it doesn’t show up in your follower’s dashboard, or in the notes section of the post.

Note: The posts you had queued up/scheduled before your blog was shadowbanned will be visible to your followers, even if there were any gifs/ personal comments added from your side.

What can you do to un-shadowban your blog?

Well, there isn’t much that you can do, except sending a ticket to the Support here. Tell them about all the trouble you’ve been facing, and why you think your blog might be shadowbanned. Try to keep it precise and relevant.

P.S. try to be polite/formal. After all, they’re simply employees trying to make an earning for themselves. It’s not like they intentionally shadowbanned you.

How long will it take for your blog to get un-shadowbanned after you’ve contacted Support?

In my case, it took them 5 days to respond to my first ticket (I had panicked and sent them 3 tickets in the first 3 days. I don’t recommend bombarding them with tickets like I did). They said that it was a glitch on their side, and apologized. My blog was back to normal instantly.

When I talked to others who were shadowbanned too, I found out that this response time varied greatly. For some, it was only a matter of hours before their blog was normal. For some, it took over a month. (I recommend sending the support a second ticket after an interval of 2-3 days if your blog isn’t back to normal.)

~~~

Wow, it got a little longer than I had expected. But hope it helps!

End plain text.]

All About Shadowban

Tumblr ‘How To’s

I had no idea about Tumblr’s shadowban until it happened to me. Since then, surprisingly quite a few number of people have texted me about them getting shadowbanned as well. Now that I’m aware of it, I realize it’s becoming increasingly common for legit blogs like mine to get shadowbanned for no reason at all. So hope this helps everyone who has to unnecessarily go through this.

What does shadowban exactly mean?

Basically, your blog exists and mostly functions as it normally would, but Tumblr has made it invisible to everyone else. Tumblr lets you believe that everything is fine and that you can interact with others, but actually you can’t. (Look at the wikipedia definition here.)

Why does this happen?

From what I understand, blogs get shadowbanned since they are suspected of being bots, or just sketchy, or they might be going against Tumblr’s guidelines. I’m not sure, but it might also happen if someone has reported your blog. 

But more often than not, it’s just a tumblr glitch. 

How to tell if your blog has been shadowbanned? And most of the things that happen during this state.

(These are the things that I personally went through. It might not be the same for everyone. Also, my main blog (@that-damn-girl) was shadowbanned. My side-blogs were fine. So in case your main blog is fine but your side blog is shadowbanned, you might have a different experience.)

(P.S. remember that commenting on a post and sending an ask are features reserved for the main blog only.)

Keep reading

[just-a-honey-badger]

I posted 351 times in 2022

That's 351 more posts than 2021!

91 posts created (26%)

260 posts reblogged (74%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@frey-the-they

@an-ungraceful-swan

@fromthemouthofkings

@shipsgaysfordays

@too-many-fandoms-to-explore

I tagged 187 of my posts in 2022

Only 47% of my posts had no tags

#marauders era - 15 posts

#ask bel - 13 posts

#important - 11 posts

#asks - 10 posts

#marauders - 10 posts

#sirius black - 9 posts

#wolfstar - 9 posts

#remus lupin - 8 posts

#ask game - 8 posts

#the marauders - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 114 characters

#that song i was talking about is everybody talks by neon trees and its fucking amazing but noooooo i have ptsd now

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

AGHHGHGHGH I CANT

i changed this just now and the edited version is at the bottom

SO I WAS JUST SCROLLING THROUGH #wolfstar headcanons AS ONE DOES AND I GOT A CRAP TON OF PROMPT IDEAS

SO I'M GONNA WRITE MY ULTIMATE COMFORT FIC (IF THAT'S A THING) AND IT'S GONNA BE SO GOOOOOOD

AND SO

LONG, FLUFFY MARAUDERS FIC (WOLFSTAR, JEGULUS, DORLENE, ETC) WITH EVERYONEEEE (JAMES, SIRIUS, REMY, PETE (BUT PETE’S ALRIGHT AND DOESN’T KILL ANYONE), REG, LILY, MARY, MARLENE, DORCAS, PANDORA, BARTY, EVAN, ALICE, FRANK, PANDORA, (MAYBE XENO IDK IF HE WENT TO SCHOOL AT THE SAME TIME AS THEM))

THAT FADES INTO JEGULUS RAISING HARRY (LILY AS SURROGATE MOM)

THAT BECOMES DRACO HERMIONE RON AND HARRY ALL BEING CHILDHOOD FRIENDS

AND THEN DRARRY BC WHY TF NOT

BUT MOSTLY REALLY MARAUDERS

AND FLUFF

AND FRIENDS

AND GAY

AND ENDLESS CAMPING TRIPS

AND WONDERFUL

BUT NO SMUT OR ANGST

SO IF YOU'RE INTO THAT KINDA THING

WHEN I'M DONE IT (IN LIKE THREE MONTHS BC I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED IT AND I'M WORKING ON TWO OTHER STORIES RN)

I WILL SHARE THE LINK

edited version:

LONG, FLUFFY MARAUDERS FIC (WOLFSTAR, JEGULUS, DORLENE, ETC) WITH EVERYONEEEE (JAMES, SIRIUS, REMY, REG, LILY, MARY, MARLENE, DORCAS, PANDORA, BARTY, EVAN, ALICE AND FRANK)

THAT FADES INTO JEGULUS RAISING HARRY (LILY AS SURROGATE MOM) AND PANDALILY RAISING LUNA AND FRALICE RAISING NEVILLE AND EVERYONE LIVES TOGETHER

AND THEN DRACO HERMIONE HARRY LUNA AND NEVILLE ALL GROW UP AS CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AND MEET GINNY AND RON

AND THEN THE REST OF THE UNEDITED VERSION STAYS THE SAME

12 notes - Posted September 18, 2022

#4

✨the queue✨: a guide

the queue is great! it's helpful if you want to post regularly or if you have lots of posts you want to reblog but don't want to do all at once.

you can queue posts by either a) clicking the reblog button > clicking the arrow next to it once it opens the page where you can add comments > selecting 'add to queue'; or

b) going into settings > clicking on the part that says 'labs' (where tumblr has new features they're working on) > turning on 'fast queue' (this adds a new icon next to the 'reply' and 'reblog' icons where you basically reblog a post but 'add to queue' is the default).

and why would i want to post regularly, you ask? well, the more you post (and the more diverse posts you have), the more likely it is for your posts to reach more people. accurate tags help with this, too. it also helps if you need to post at a consistent schedule for whatever reason, but can't always log on at the same time every day.

if you want to queue your posts at more random times, go into labs and turn on 'queue 2.0'. this enables a more detailed way to schedule your queued posts. i had to play around with it before i found something i liked, and i suggest you do too.

that's it

14 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

#3

*screech*

what if, and hear me out, the black family was not french, but japanese? and yes, the original idea started from a wolfstar fic tag on ao3. i forgot which one, sorry.

back to the main point. give me sirius and regulus not speaking french, but japanese. i get that french is a language of love, and all that, but i don't care. give me remus and james falling in lOVe when they hear the black brothers speaking japanese to each other.

please. someone. i'll never get around to doing it myself; do you know how many wips i have in my drafts? (answer: a lot)

16 notes - Posted November 17, 2022

#2

writing a new marauders fic where all the marauders in the afterlife react to harry's daily life (not his war stuff but like his cringe everyday stuff)

22 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

okay, but what if peter didn't exist and regulus was in his place and james and remus took sirius and regulus's last name and the marauders were all the blacks and they went to see walburga and were like 'hey mom!' and walburga fucking flips

173 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[countarganan]

It’s more than about time I made a multi-blog promo for ALL my active RP blogs right now, so here it is! XD The faces shown are the FCs for the muses (save for Leon, Pegasus and Cassandra’s blogs as they currently don’t have FCs).

PRIMARY BLOGS (follows will come from one of these two for ALL blogs):

@meisterkirisaki: RP blog for Meister Kirisaki from Yakitate!! Japan

@countarganan: RP Blog for Count Arganan from The Last Story, as well as several other muses

SIDEBLOGS:

@industrialpegasus: RP blog for Maximillion Pegasus from Yu-Gi-Oh!

@hierophantofdelilah: RP blog for Cassandra Gladstone from Count Cain: Godchild

@undefeatablechampion: RP blog for Champion Leon from Pokemon: Sword & Shield

@exorcistofgrace: RP blog for Geist Grace from Bravely Second, as well as a few canon & OC muses 

@pinkpompomsandkatanas: RP blog for Nobutsuna Kamiizumi from Bravely Default & Second, as well as several OC muses and a few canon muses

@adeadlysong: OC RP blog for Tahirah Zakiyaa, as well as several secondary OC muses

PLEASE read the rules pages on the blogs before interacting with any of them; they differ slightly for various reasons. Also please check out the verses & about pages on these blogs too! Thanks!

UPDATE as of 9:42 pm EST TODAY: I COMPLETELY forgot one more blog to add to this promo, and it’s @niteofkaoli: RP blog for Kaolinite from Sailor Moon, based on the 90s anime & my own headcanons. Sorry about that!

...yes, this means I’m running 9 RP blogs. OMG.

[heizours]

ೀ — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

ㅤpart time writer for genshin impact and a full time student.

ㅤthis blog contains purely sfw content only, and updates are mostly inconsistent.

ೀ — 𝐁𝐘𝐅...

i'm a minor, please do not interact or follow this blog if it's uncomfortable with you

spamming my posts are fine with me, however not to the point where i can get shadowbanned

i (sometimes) delete posts when i feel like it

i use tone indicators and the usage of petnames, so if i ever called you one by accident, feel free to approach me if it's not okay with you

please do not send asks that contains something explicitly nsfw or anything that is weird

ೀ — 𝐃𝐍𝐈...

when you're sending hate or being rude to somene generally for no reason at all

supports any form of hate (homophobic, xenophobic and etc.)

if you write dark content, a proshipper, ship characters that are siblings and s*xualize child characters

ೀ — 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

basic and simple. please treat everyone here on this blog with kindness and respect, i would not tolerate any disrespectful behaviour happening in here.

what are one of your main objectives for this blog? i want to make this blog a safe space for the readers as much as possible. if there are any topics or warnings that may have triggered you or mistakes that had made you uncomfortable, please do not hesitate to tell me.

is your inbox open anytime for interactions? yes, of course! feel free to flood it, anytime! although i could be a little awkward at first when replying or quite talkative when i’m invested with the conversations we are going to have T_T. i’m open to any topics (ex. genshin related, twst, obey me, animes, kpop, mangas, music and etc.) as long as it isn’t politics related, nsfw related, discourse (though sometimes if it's really necessary), trauma dumping or controversial issues. all interactions with anyone and everyone are platonic as much as possible!

what should i be aware of when i’m following you? this blog is spoiler free and could also be leak free

do you have a posting schedule? i have an inconsistent posting schedule and i can be a slow writer as well. i’m starting to learn how to queue so better expect that the following new works might be queued!

to whom are your works targeted to? this writing blog’s target audiences are gender neutral readers (you/your/they/them) since i want anyone who comes across my work/s, can enjoy reading it for free

ೀ — 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

what do you need to know before requesting? i will reject any requests that contains genres/topics that i would not write or can be triggering to be read. i can also be quite choosy with which should i write first and i have the right to reject a request if it makes me uncomfortable writing it

do you have a character limitation for what you will write? there will be no limitation for the number of characters you had requested for, but i can’t guarantee that it will be written and finished immediately as soon as possible

content i won't write: any topics that contains dark content/nsfw themes, angst, poly relationships, infidelity/cheating, triggering/personal topics (self h*rms, tr*umas and etc.), child reader, reader with specific physical appearances, requests that involves diseases (where i’m not familiar or have enough knowledge about it) or characters that are siblings/family. as for child characters like klee, diona, qiqi and sayu, i will only write platonic relationships with them

content i will write: casual, fluff, hurt/comfort, crack, slice of life and angst with happy endings. for an au, i can try to write for a modern a, a sagau, a highschool or any idea that you have in mind as long as it matches the criteria when it comes to requesting

why has my request haven’t been posted yet? if you had sent a request but it seems that it hasn’t been posted yet, it can fall between two things. it’s either still in this blog’s drafts or i deleted it because i don’t know how will i be able to write it. its reasons could possibly be, i don’t understand the concept well or i might misinterpret it which can lead to misunderstandings

you can request under this categories categories: headcanons, scenarios and oneshots 

i have a various formats that i use when it comes to writing and i choose it if it best fits with the concept. here are the formats i use: sentence format, bulleted format, scenario format and bulleted with scenario format

you can state if you want a platonic or romantic relationship with the characters you want. i’ll try to make it lean into a platonic relationship (but mostly all my works fall into a romantic and established relationship)

if there are mistakes or errors in my works, pls approach me and enlighten me why and how is it wrong

which characters will i write for? i will write for the male characters

when will i post again? i write at my own pace, any messages on my inbox that says when will the given request or new work will be posted will just put me into pressure or might lose the mood to continue to write it. please don’t worry, your request will soon get to me! <3

[watchmegetobsessed]

Update - Harry Styles

i’ve been deep inmy harry feels and this thought just wouldn’t leave me alone so i had to write it. im thinking about starting a taglist for harry, i think i’ll write more about him in the future. let me know if you’d be interested in the taglist!

word count: ~5.9k

masterlist

Sequel: The best present

Harry is not that into YouTube videos, has never really been, which is kind of ironic seeing the number of videos on the internet that is about him. The man himself who makes everyone talk online feels weird seeing someone talking on his screen, looking into his soul as if they were right there with him. But today he felt the sudden urge to be like his peers and get lost in random rambling videos from strangers, who felt the need to put themselves out there.

He has made a mean cup of tea for himself, made himself comfortable on his couch with his laptop balancing on his thighs and now is opening up his browser to unwind in an unusual way. As YouTube opens in front of his tired eyes, he stops when he tries to type in the keywords he is searching for. What is he looking for really? He thinks to himself trying to remember what he heard from his friends when they talked about funny or interesting videos. One thing is for sure, he is trying to avoid watching videos of himself in any content. He has had enough of him for the day, it’s time to focus on someone else, even if he doesn’t know the person.

He scrolls through several pages of many different keywords until he settles for a video where a girl talks about how her latest moving day went. Starting off Harry feels weird listening to her talk about such personal things as where her bed went in her room, how she packed all her stuff to fit them in the boxes, but soon enough this feeling settles and he starts to realize it’s kind of relaxing.

It doesn’t take too long for him to fall down a rabbit hole and by the time his tea empties out from his cup he is intensely watching a guy rant about his boss at Subway while doing a mukbang. The latter is a new discovery for Harry, he has never heard of it before, but he can see why some people find it satisfying.

The video ends, Harry checks the time and sees that it’s already after midnight and he hasn’t even realized how fast time flew by.

“Alright, just one more,” he mumbles to himself scrolling down the column of the recommended videos until his eyes stop at one particular upload at the very bottom.

July update for my Sammy, ready the title and an eye-catchingly beautiful girl is smiling from the thumbnail. He finds her breathtaking, the lack of makeup, the worn out hoodie she is wearing and the many various plants in the background makes it appear she is sitting in the middle of the forest.

Harry finds himself clicking on the video before he could even decide consciously to watch it. The screen loads and the girl appears in front of him, this time in a much larger size.

“Hi Sammy, welcome back to our channel,” she starts with an angelic little laugh as she pulls her shoulders up to her ears as if the camera is making her shy. She has no reason to be shy, Harry thinks to himself. His second thought is about Sammy, he is one lucky guy to know this angel and have her think about him. “It’s Y/N here, your one and only sister,” she adds.

Sister. The word brings Harry relief and he is surprised to feel this way, but he has no time to think anything of it because she starts talking again.

“Here is my July update, I’m sorry I’m a little late, but we got back from Oregon yesterday. Aunt Ella is sending you kisses and hugs, she missed you at the barbeque, or maybe it was just your helping hand at the grill,” she chuckles to herself, probably recalling the memory.

Harry has no idea who Aunt Ella is or where she lives in Oregon, but the way she talks about it makes him feel like he is part of the family a little.

Y/N carries on and starts talking about everything that has happened in July. Painting the shed at her parents’ home, buying a new armchair, one her cat absolutely adores and refuses to sleep anywhere else now, she went to the hairdresser to get a trim, but not too much. She tells about her plans for August, how she is thinking about going to the farmers’ market more often, and she has been playing with the idea of adopting another cat.

“I think Henry has been feeling a little lonely lately. He could use a buddy,” she tells the camera, her eyes moving to the side from where a weak but moody meow can be heard as an answer. “Yeah, I think he agrees,” she chuckles and Harry finds himself smiling at the screen.

At the end of the video she asks a few questions from Sammy, how he has been doing, if his wrist feels any better, even asks about a friend called Matthew. Harry wonders if she has ever gotten the answers to her questions and where Sammy saw this video. What is he doing that made her want to do an update on YouTube?

When the video ends Harry clicks on her profile faster than he would willingly admit to anyone and it’s like he opened the gate to paradise. Tens and maybe hundreds of videos are queuing on her page, monthly updates, birthday wishes, short story times about family gatherings, news and happenings in her life.

Harry gets lost in her tales. He watches video after video, noticing the smallest details about her, almost mentally taking notes about her updates, finding anything and everything she talks about so interesting as if he knew those people and places she mentions. He comes to realization that Sammy is her older brother who is serving somewhere in the military. Y/N is making the videos to update him about her life even if she knows most of them doesn’t get to him until weeks later, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. He also learns that Sammy sends them back lengthy emails once a month and always ends them with a joke they made up with his mates at the army. Y/N loves them even when they're not even funny, she never fails to mention that she smiled reading them.

Hours pass by and the rising Sun peeks inside the window pulling Harry back to his own reality, shocked that he just spent the whole night watching her videos and didn’t even realize how deep he has gotten in her life. Lucky for him he has nothing planned until the afternoon, so shutting his laptop he sets it aside and heads straight to bed, but lying between his silky sheets he catches himself staring out the window, wondering what Y/N might be doing right now. From what he collected she lives somewhere in Spokane and has family in Seattle and Portland, which puts her quite a few time zones behind him. He finds the thought of them going to bed at the same time despite the distance a little funny. He lies in bed for quite some time before he finally drifts off to sleep with a particular girl on his mind, who doesn’t even know he is thinking about her.

 “Do you think you can fall for someone you have never met?”

Harry’s question catches Mitch a little off-guard, but he is kind of used to his random bits of thoughts. Pouring some sugar into his coffee he follows the wondering singer to a free table in the corner.

“Isn’t it what all your fans feel?” he answers with a question, earning a surprised look from Harry. He hasn’t thought about this side, now the situation is kind of ironic, he supposes.

“Y’re right,” he nods stirring his coffee around in the small cup.

“Want to let me in on your thoughts?”

Harry feels a little shy to admit how he has watched all of her videos in the past few days, 207 to be exact and now he feels an oddly deep connection to this girl he has never even seen outside of a screen. Last night he dug up her Instagam profile, and even though she is not posting as frequently as she does on her channel, it was a refreshing change to see her in different settings. Chilling at a lake, having drinks with her friends, playing with her parents’ puppy, it amazed him that she has a whole life outside that small portion she lets him see in her videos.

Hesitantly, but he tells his friend about his latest hobby, if it’s not too weird to call it that, while his friend patiently listens and nods along his words while sipping on his morning coffee.

“D’you think I’m crazy?” Harry sighs leaning back in his seat, looking at his friend and colleague for validation that he hasn’t lost his mind entirely.

“Definitely not,” he chuckles shaking his head. “It’s like falling for that girl in school you know so much about but never really met.”

“Only that I’m stalkin’ this poor girl.”

“This is not stalking. We both know it’s far from that.” Harry nods with slight relief that his situation doesn’t seem as bad as he has been feeling lately. “Have you gotten in touch with her?”

“And what am I supposed to do? Comment on her video that I think her cat’s a cutie and I watched all her videos in three days ‘cuz I think she’s beautiful and I find her voice soothing?”

Mitch lets out a soft chuckle at the oddly specific answer he just gave and finds it amusing how interested his friend has grown about someone in such a short time.

“Maybe phrase it a little different.”

“So you do think I should reach out?”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t. Use your personal YouTube, leave her a nice comment. Maybe she’ll reply.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” he chuckles. “Just go with it and you’ll see. You are obviously interested in her, it’s better than just sit and watch her videos.”

Harry agrees. It wouldn’t hurt to try to reach out to her, possibly in a not too creepy way. Maybe just a sweet comment on one of her videos and if she replies… Well, he doesn’t know what comes after, but he’ll figure it out.

 Y/N updates regularly. Usually once a week and mostly it’s Sunday when a new video gets uploaded. This next Sunday Harry finds himself checking her page occasionally through the day to see if there’s a new update, but it seems like she is missing today. Right until he is driving home and gets a notification from the app.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video! It reads and Harry’s heart beats a tad bit faster. He thinks about pulling over to see it right away, but he tells himself that would be a bit too much, so he is forced to wait until he is in the comfort of his home.

Finally sitting on his couch he opens up his laptop and clicks on the video that has the title: September update.

Y/N sits in her usual spot, Henry in her arms as she is gently stroking his head with a warm smile on her face.

“Hi Sammy! Welcome back to our channel,” she greets him with her usual words and Harry loves how she calls the channel theirs. “This is my September update, even though not much has happened,” she breathes out, eyes wandering to the window besides her and Harry wonders what she sees from her window every day. Does she live in the city? Is it an apartment or a house with a backyard? Are there any trees or does her room have a terrible view, maybe just another house next to hers?

She starts her talk about the month, which she spent mostly with working, a little shopping and meeting her friends. She tells him about her planned trip to the local shelter to see possible new kittens to add to her household and Harry feels himself growing excited about it. He even thinks about what kind of cat he can see get along well with Henry even though he has never even met him.

“Anyway, mom and dad miss you, I miss you too. I loved your joke about ducks in your latest email,” she chuckles sweetly, bringing a smile to Harry’s face as well. “Mom is excited to see you at Christmas, our cousins will come to Portland as well. Maya can’t wait to play Jenga with you, she said she’s been practicing.”

The video soon ends as Y/N tells Sammy how much she loves him and eventually turns the camera off.

He straight away moves the cursor to the beginning of the video and as she starts talking again he scrolls down to the comment section that’s entirely empty. There are only two views on her video, usually a hundred is the max, but she doesn’t seem to care about the views, it’s more about the message.

He clicks to type a comment, but his hands stop above the keyboard as he tries to think of what to write. Mitch was right about taking a chance at reaching out, but what is he supposed to write exactly? Everything that comes to his mind sounds so creepy and scary, and he knows it’s weird that he formed such a deep connection to an unknown girl online. At last he starts typing.

“Hi Y/N! I’ve stumbled across your videos the other day. Love how you keep your brother updated, it’s such a nice gesture. I hope life treats you and Sammy well, you truly deserve it. Good luck with finding a buddy for Henry! Love, an admirer of yours, H.”

He reads it back several times, deleting then retyping it again until he decides to just go with it. A rush of adrenaline washes over his body when he sends the comment and it’s officially out there. Secretly he wishes she would reply right away, but moments pass by, then moments turn into minutes and nothing happens. His comment stands there alone and he has to realize that maybe she will never even reply or even see it.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself as he shuts the laptop down and goes on to do his things, but he finds his thoughts wander over to her from time to time.

He has a busy day ahead of him the next day, quite a few meetings and a fitting. He checks back for a reply in the morning, but it slips his mind the moment he leaves from home and his phone rings right away. Throughout the day he basically barely has time to check his emails, his other notifications are just sitting patiently on the bar, waiting for him to acknowledge them. It’s way past five in the afternoon when he finally have some time for himself after his fitting. He is sitting in his car, people walk past him without even realizing who is sitting behind the tinted windows. Scrolling down he gets rid of everything that doesn’t seem urgent until his eyes stop at one particular notification.

“Y/N replied to your comment,” he reads it out loud, just to make it real, as if he is seeing it wrong and saying it with his own mouth brings it to life. He quickly taps on it and the familiar video opens up and while Y/N starts talking again the screen jumps down to the comments where, in fact, there is a reply from her.

“Dear H! Thank you for your heartfelt comment! I always forget it’s not just my family who sees these videos, but I’m happy you found them interesting enough to watch a few of them.”

“A few?” Harry huffs to himself feeling a little ridiculous he has watched all of them.

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much. Thank you for the well wishes for me, my brother and Henry too. He is sending his love to you. Y/N xx”

The comment was posted three hours ago. The thought that she has acknowledged his existence with not only reading but also replying to his comment brings him extreme joy. He reads her words over and over again, looking for any clue that would give away that she found his comment weird, but it seems like she was more surprised and happy that someone else saw her video besides her brother. Harry starts to type his reply without hesitation.

“Bore me? You saved me from watching another “what’s in my bag” video the other day. It was a pleasant change. I love your plants, by the way. Your room always gives off the most relaxed vibes. It reminded me I should have more of them in my home. H”

Harry smiles to himself posting his comment, the fear of appearing like a stalker long gone from him, the interaction is making his inside blossom from joy. For his biggest surprise a reply appears just a few minutes away and Harry reads Y/N’s new lines with deep hunger.

“Those videos suck the life out of me every time! I might be having a problem with buying too many plants, but I can’t help myself. They truly bring peace to me just by looking at them. I’m glad you are planning on buying some more, you won’t regret it!”

Harry is dying to reply, but he doesn’t want to look too eager and needy, so he opts for just liking her comment to let her know he read it and agrees. He locks his phone and puts it aside with the widest smile on his face as he starts his car and leaves his parking spot.

Two weeks pass by. In those two weeks Y/N uploads two more videos, one about her time with her grandparents, for a change it was filmed at their home and they even said hello in it. Harry feels wholesome seeing her with her granny and grandpa, it’s clear she cares a lot about them. The other video is just a short one where she has met some of Sammy’s old high school friends and she had a check in from them, sending a sweet message to him through the video. Harry doesn’t doubt how much these little things mean to Sammy, even if he doesn’t get to see them right away. Seeing Y/N alone boosts his mood every time she uploads a new video, he can only imagine how they make Sammy feel.

He leaves comments on her videos without a second thought and she replies to all of them, a lot of the time almost immediately. These are the highlights of his days without exception. Knowing that she has anything to do with him just fascinates him and he is starting to realize what his fans feel towards him on a different level. Whenever he sees the notification that she has replied to what he wrote or that she uploaded a new video he flies right to her page to check it, no matter what he is doing. Some of their comment threads turn out pretty lengthy, almost like a chat conversation and it has Harry wonder how they could maybe move it to somewhere else from the comment section.

He wants to ask for her number, but figures it wouldn’t be the best idea. Regardless of how much he enjoys their short little conversations, the situation is still weird and complicated and he doesn’t want to forget that.

But he is pleasantly surprised when she brings it up herself, to move the conversation to somewhere else.

“Would love to discuss that more with you. Up for exchanging IG names?” her question reads and he blinks a few before he fully comprehends that she wants to talk to him more in private. However there’s no way he can send her his real Instagram profile and making a fake one would be way too suspicious. Opening up the private messages he sends her a short, but informative message.

“I don’t use Instagram, but feel free to text me,” and then his phone number.

He sits at the dinner table anxiously, waiting for his phone to light up from a new text, and just a few minutes later it finally comes.

“Hi! It’s Y/N,” he reads from the notification and he saves the number right away.

“Hello! Save me as Harry. I haven’t even told you my name yet, how rude of me!” he replies chuckling to himself.

“Will let it slip this time. Harry. What a nice name!”

“Is it what you thought about from the H?”

“It was one of my theories. The other one was Hayes, but Harry fits you better.”

“You haven’t even seen me, how do you know what name fits me?”

“I don’t know. You had a vibe. There are many great Harries in the world, you seemed to fit between them!”

Harry wonders if she is thinking about him without even knowing that… it is him. He wants to ask her, but decides not to. Instead, he is enjoying that he can now reach her immediately and not through a comment section. He never thought this would actually happen.

 The texts never stop. They have so much to talk about! Their entire life to share, millions of thoughts and so much to discuss! Harry is not proud of the time he has spent with his eyes glued to his phone, but he wouldn’t miss a chance to talk to her for anything. Their friends are not blind to the change in him, but Mitch is the only one with a guess about why he has gotten so addicted to his phone.

“Is it the girl from the videos?” he asks Harry one time when they are at the studio, having lunch break. Different food boxes are scattered around them, on the table and the couch. Harry’s phone just light up from a text and he immediately dropped his lunch to type a response.

He glances up at his friend with a shy smile nodding his head. He hasn’t talked about his newly funded friendship with Y/N yet, it feels like as if he tells it to anyone it might evaporate into just a dream.

“So you reached out, huh?”

“I did,” he nods returning to his food once his message is sent. “She’s great.”

“Does she know who she is talking to?” Harry’s lack of answer tells enough about the truth to Mitch. “You can’t hide forever, especially if you are planning on meeting her.”

“I know,” he answers shortly. “But I just don’t know how I could even bring it up to her without sounding like a mad man.”

“She’ll need proof.”

“M’not ready to show m’self to her. What if it changes everything?”

“Then it wasn’t worth it,” he simply tells him.

Deep down Harry knows it’s the truth, but he is not ready to be robbed from the joy she is bringing him. He has never felt such a deep connection to anyone before and they haven’t even met. It’s just a version of her he is seeing on the screen, not her real self. But it feels real to him and he wants to keep this reality to himself for just a little longer.

 “I wish I could hear your voice, Harry. You are one big mystery to me, you know that?”

He forgets to breathe for a moment as he reads her message, lying in bed one evening, getting ready to sleep, but he wanted to check in with her before ending the day.

“You know so much about me already,” he types back.

“Not enough, I feel like. Sometimes I’m afraid Nev and Max are about to show up at my door and tell me that I’ve been catfished.”

He chuckles at her words, though he completely understands her fear.

“What do you want from me then?”

“Send me a voice message so I know you are real. That would put my suspicion to sleep. For a while…”

Harry hesitates for a long time until he decides just one voice message couldn’t hurt. Just a short one where his voice is not that recognizable so his cover won’t be over immediately.

“Good night, Y/N,” he tells into his phone and then send the recording to her.

He watches the status change from delivered to read and a couple of minutes go by before she finally responds.

“Thank you. Now I know that you are real. I hope I’ll hear your voice in real life one day.”

“I hope that too.”

 His time spent undercover is coming to an end and he knows it’ll happen soon. It’s been weeks since they started chatting, almost an entire month and she’s been hinting her will to see his face and though he has been putting it off, he knows it has to happen.

Fate is playing under his hands, because he is traveling to Seattle for a few days, exactly when Y/N is traveling there to visit her parents.

“I hope you know you can’t leave without meeting finally,” she wrote when she found out they are going to be in the same city.

“It never even crossed my mind!” he wrote back chuckling to himself, however it brought him extreme anxiety that he is now going to be forced to come clean about who he really is.

He spends his whole flight to Seattle making up possible outcomes for their first official meeting. Not all of them end well and it’s just fueling his fear that he might lose her for not telling her the entire truth.

But she is a smart girl, she’ll see your reasoning, he tells himself, however he can’t entirely convince himself that it will be the case.

In hopes of squeezing in more than just one meeting into the weekend they agreed to meet almost first thing after he lands. So after checking into his hotel he heads into the city to finally meet her in real life in a local café she suggested for the occasion. Arriving to the place he is running a little late and she already texted him she’ll be waiting for him inside. Harry is wearing a beanie with shades to try to keep up his cover and it seems to be working, no one has approached him yet.

Stepping inside the cozy looking place his eyes roam around and immediately finds her sitting in the corner, pouring sugar into her coffee, not even paying attention to the door at the moment, but truth is she’s been intensely staring at it in the past ten minutes she has been there.

Harry takes a deep breath and nods to himself before heading in her way, hands shaking nervously as he stops at her table.

She glances up at him with innocent eyes, a smile spreads across her face as she sees that her mysterious Harry has arrived and she doesn’t recognize her until he finally takes his sunglasses off.

Harry watches her face turn from happiness to surprise then utter shock as she realizes who is standing in front of him.

“You are… my Harry?” she asks, confusion laced through her voice and Harry can’t ignore how she called him her Harry. He likes the ring of it.

“M’orry if it’s a little too much f’you, I really didn’t know how to tell ya.”

Keeping his eyes on her he pulls out the other chair at the table and takes a seat across her while she is still staring at him with a shocked and puzzled expression sitting on her face. Then she looks around in suspicion as he wiggles his coat off his arms, before her eyes settle on him once again.

“It’s not an episode of Catfish, right?” she asks making him chuckle.

“It is not, don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being weird, but this was literally the last thing I was expecting,” she admits leaning back in her seat. “I believed things like this only happen in movies.”

“Not just there,” he smiles, slowly relieving that she is still sitting there and hasn’t ran out. It’s going way better than he expected.

She needs a little time to put the whole picture together and befriend the thought that she indeed just developed a friendship with Harry Styles through her videos for her brother. The absurdity is still shocking to her, but the more time passes by with him still sitting there, the more she finds peace with it.

Once the shock and surprise is gone they slowly realize they are seeing each other in real life finally. Harry feels overwhelmed, she is even more breathtaking than in her videos and through texts. He is mesmerized by her whole being and could listen to her talk in person forever, he wouldn’t get bored of her.

Time stops existing as they sit at the little café, talking for hours even though that’s all they’ve been doing through texts, but they just can’t get enough of hearing each other, seeing each other’s reaction and be able to see each other and not stare at a screen while talking.

Unfortunately, time never stopped just for the two of them and soon she realizes she needs to head back home. Harry doesn’t want to let go of her just yet so he offers to give her a ride, thanking himself for getting a rental for himself upon arriving. Y/N accepts the offer so the two of them head back to her parents’ home, soaking up the last minutes of their precious time spent together.

“Thank you for today, I really loved meeting you finally,” she smiles at him once they are parked on the driveway.

“I hope I didn’t shock you too much,” he chuckles scratching his chin.

“Just a little,” she admits before they both get out of the car and walking around it she stops in front of him, after a moment of hesitation she opts for a hug that he returns more than happily.

It feels as if her frame was perfectly sculpted to fit in his embrace and Harry can’t imagine how he could go this long without even seeing her in person. He knows it’s gonna be utter misery to be away from her after they leave the city.

“Will I see you before you take off?” she asks letting go of him. Harry looks down at her, the urge to kiss her growing bigger with each passing moment, but he is not sure if it would be appropriate to give it a try on their first time meeting.

“I’m free tomorrow for a lunch,” he tells her and she nods smiling.

“Then I’m free too,” she chuckles.

There’s an awkward moment where they are not sure what else should be done or said and the more they wait the weirder it’s getting so Harry clears his throat as he takes a step back, sad that he has to leave without feeling her lips on his, but he is not trying to be too greedy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles walking back to his car. Y/N waves after him and sitting back to behind the wheel he takes a moment to himself to collect himself after everything that has happened today. His hands curl around the wheel and he is about to start the car when someone knocks on the window. Y/N is smiling at him through the glass and he rolls it down curiously.

“I just…” she starts hesitantly, her eyes wander down to his lips and Harry knows what’s about to happen, but it still catches him by surprise.

Y/N leans in through the window and presses her lips to Harry’s, capturing them in a sweet, long awaited first kiss they both have been dreaming of for quite a while. Harry smiles into the kiss, bringing his right hand up to cup her cheeks as they stretch the moment for as long as possible. Whenever one pulls back the other brings them back for just one more kiss that turns into two more, then three… It takes a long time for them to finally let go of each other.

“See you later, H,” she smiles backing out of the car and running up to the front door, smiling wildly as she waves in his way one last time before disappearing in the house.

 Lying in bed that evening Harry is scrolling through his Instagram feed when he finally realizes he can now follow her without a worry. He is quick to find her profile again and hit that follow button. He is happy to see she was already following him.

He is just about to put his phone aside and go to bed after such a busy but exciting day when a notification pops up on the screen.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video!

He taps on it quickly and her smiling face greets him from his phone’s screen.

“Hi Sammy! It’s me again. Welcome back to our channel,” she starts with a shy smile. The setting is new this time, he supposes it’s her parents’ home this time. “This is going to be a short video, but I wanted to tell you about something. Or someone.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat when he thinks about where it’s heading. He listens to her voice holding his breath.

“I met someone today. We’ve been talking for a while, but I could finally hug him today. His name is Harry, and he is a wonderful man. I think you two would get along well,” she says with a soft chuckle. “I love spending time with him and I hope he feels the same way. Actually…” Her eyes move up straight to the camera, something she doesn’t do often. She usually stares out the window or plays with Henry while talking. “I think he is watching it right now. Hi Harry!”

“Hello, Beautiful,” he greets her back with a smile as if she could hear him.

“I wanted to tell you how amazing you are making me feel. I hope I didn’t disappoint. I was so nervous to meet you today, I hope I lived up to what you imagined me to be.”

“You were so much better than that,” he answers again.

“Anyway… I hope you feel the same way. You are the first guy I’m talking about in an update, so appreciate it!” she tells him and he chuckles lightly. “I’ll see you soon, H. But until then… Know that I’m thinking about you.”

“M’thinking about you too, Angel.”

“Sammy, I miss you as always. I hope everything is well, can’t wait for your next email. I love you,” she smiles before the video ends.

Harry heads straight to the comments. This time he doesn’t leave a lengthy one, just a short line, but it has everything he wanted to tell her.

“I feel the same way.” The comment reads. Just a few seconds later comes the notification and he smiles sweetly at his phone.

Y/N liked the comment.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

curtain call, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You know that TikTok trend where girls would drop their towels in front of their gamer boyfriends? As expected, Min Yoongi didn’t until he was informed by his six troublemaking friends. In this case, his girlfriend was the pro streamer and he was the guy in the towel... so what’s the result?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, tiny bit of crack; sexually explicit thoughts; smut (fem reader, handjob, cowgirl); very fluffy; non-idol!AU - established relationship, music producer!Yoongi x LoL streamer!reader

-

“Hahaha, oh my god, chat, did you see that? He bounced so many times from the CC, he literally went sky, holy shit!”

Min Yoongi opened the front door of his apartment to the jovial, laughing voice of his girlfriend. He shut the door, smiling to himself. Her streaming room was in the extra bedroom. The door was open, and he could see the bright RGB lights of her computer tower reflecting off the walls. He took off his black coat, placing it on the hanger in the hall closet.

“Stop cursing because it’s not ladylike?” He heard her scoff. “No, fuck you.”

Yoongi smirked. That’s my girl.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket, scrolling through social media. His friends always told him to reply to their posts, but Yoongi was a lurker. The only reason he even had any social media was because his friends set it up for him. He literally only followed six people – his six friends. Everyone else he just stalked from memory, even his own girlfriend. Mostly because he didn’t want random people following him for no reason, because they most certainly would with how popular she was.

When she had asked him what he thought of her full-time video game streaming, Yoongi told her to go for it. She had been obsessed with League of Legends for over nine years, even before she met him. At their first date, she first question was if he knew what League of Legends was.

“Uh… I got to Gold in season 2?”

Later, she told him his answer had seriously tilted her and she even considered not going on a second date.

“But you did. Because of this face.”

She had laughed and nodded.

She had been playing solo queue for a long time. When she finally started streaming her games, her channel grew slowly. She would immediately start playing after she got home from work. Hours and hours, growing a fanbase. Yoongi later learned she was startlingly good – “I was Master for a long time, got Grandmaster this season” – and when she asked him if she could quit her job, he pointed to her bank statements.

“Do you even need to ask? You might make more than me at one point and I’m Big Hit’s top music producer.”

And she did end up making more than him, at least some months, because the team that picked her up as a content creator this year was none other than T1, the most beloved (and hated) organization in Korea. Had she ever met Faker? No, but it was cool to say she was under the same umbrella as him.

Yoongi rounded the corner, knocking his knuckles on the doorframe.

“Hey.”

-

You looked up from your game, grinning. Twitch chat had just said some dumb shit, but your eyes were on Min Yoongi now. The love of your life, standing in the doorframe, looking amused at your antics and dressed sharply in a white dress shirt and black slacks with a matching black tie. Very different to your black T1 hoodie and sweats.

“Whoa, fancy, fancy,” you teased, eyes going back to the game. You pushed back one of your headset’s earcups to hear him better. You clicked rapidly, autoattacking the towers swiftly. You were about to win after a hectic Baron fight. “Why are you dressed like that, Yoongi?”

Your chat was exploding with cat emojis. They had only seen Yoongi a few times and someone had compared him to a cat once. It stuck and now every time Yoongi spoke, your chat was spammed with cats. You even had a custom white cat emote made with Yoongi’s signature black hair.

Yoongi appeared next to you on the cam, only his slacks and bottom of his shirt visible next to you. He patted your head.

“Meeting today,” he said simply in his lovely deep voice. The chat was exploding due to Yoongi’s appearance. Everyone was thirsty for him. You couldn’t blame them. You too. “Looks like T1 Curtain Call is kicking ass.”

You fired the last shot at the Nexus, earning fifty gold. Was it necessary since that was the end of the game? Absolutely not, but it gave you bragging rights. You sat back, smirking. You were in your promos to Challenger, the highest rank in the ladder. It would be really exciting if you could make it to Challenger this season.

You turned to Yoongi as you honored your support Nami. “Chat wants you to say hi.”

Yoongi stuck his large hand out in front of the camera and waved it once. “Hey everyone.”

You chuckled as Yoongi retreated his hand. You clicked on the stats for the chat to read before reentering the lobby. T1 Curtain Call. That was your in-game name, or IGN. It was named after your favorite champion, Jhin, the Virtuoso, mercenary gunman with a sniper ultimate and an obsession with the number four. Your IGN was Jhin’s ultimate ability name. You were an attack-damage carry main, also known as ADC.

You felt Yoongi ruffle your hair, messing it up under your headset.

“Going to take a shower before making dinner. Bye, chat.”

Yoongi stuck his hand in the screen again, right in front of your face.

You leaned forward to read the chat as you queued up. It was going to be a long queue, so you answered questions in the meantime.

“Ask Yoongi to play with you?” You chuckled. “Trust me guys, I’ve tried, even if it was just normals. He’s confused as shit.”

-

Yoongi worked the shampoo in his hair, feeling the hot water hit his back. Before getting into the shower, Yoongi had gotten multiple texts from the group chat. Normally he would ignore them, because he always ignored the group chat. This time, however, he saw his girlfriend’s name pop up in the texts, along with his name with multiple exclamation points. He frowned at it, opening the chat. He did not like his friends typing her name heedlessly.

It was some dumb TikTok trend.

“Hyung, you gotta do this to noona,” Jeon Jungkook had typed with multiple ‘kekekeke’ behind it. The youngest was an idiot for even suggesting this.

“Please do it,” Kim Taehyung typed with multiple laughing emojis.

“I want to know her reaction,” Park Jimin typed with a bunch of winking faces.

“The fuck is this?” Kim Seokjin had typed. “Oh my god, you have to do it, Yoongi.”

“But don’t film it,” Kim Namjoon warned. “Don’t want to make her look bad or anything.”

Jung Hoseok had just typed multiple laughing symbols. Yoongi could hear him laughing through the phone even if he wasn’t here.

It was a stupid trend where girls wrapped themselves in towels after a shower and then dropped said towels in front of their gamer boyfriends while they were playing, with varying reactions. Yoongi had sighed, putting his phone down. He shouldn’t have clicked on the chat. Those guys were loons. Besides, his role was reversed in his situation. A guy’s flaccid dick was a thousand times less interesting than his girlfriend’s perky tits and round ass. And her squeezable thighs. And her glistening pussy.

Yoongi rinsed his hair off, muttering to himself.

Why would he even consider distracting her like that anyway? He rubbed soap on his arms and legs. She took her games seriously and Yoongi wanted her to win them. It would just be dumb to be the reason that she dies in game. It was her job, after all. It was true they had less sex, but that was also partially his fault. He had been working on an album and it ran long hours. He had to finish before the deadline after all. Yes, sometimes Yoongi woke up late at night with a massive hard-on and her warm body next to him, only in her underwear. Sometimes he took her hand and wrapped it around him, considering on waking her up to do it.

But her peaceful, sleepy face was too cute to wake up, so he never did.

Yoongi puffed his cheeks as he rinsed off, thinning his mouth and eyes into lines. They used to mess around, right here in the shower, where he would jerk off on her face and chest, just to watch it drip down her body. He could see her pretty face in his mind, cum sprayed across her cheeks and chin, mischievous smile on her lips. They had different schedules now, so she always showered before her stream, while he was at work.

Yoongi clicked his tongue and turned the water off, body still hot. He grabbed the white towel from the rack and dried his hair, making it stick up in every direction. He rubbed himself down, wicking the water away. It made him remember how her hair used to stick to her body after their shared showers and how he would lift it away to play with her nipples.

He huffed, seeing his phone on the bathroom sink. His friends needed help. How could they even suggest such nonsen–

Yoongi tried to wrap his towel around his waist. He could feel a draft. He looked down, raising his eyebrows.

His dick was pitching a music-festival, VIP-member-only sized tent.

Well.

He pursed his lips. He shouldn’t be that surprised. He had literally been thinking about his girlfriend’s naked body the entire time. His eyes glanced to his phone once again before he opened the bathroom door. He heard her sigh loudly.

“Noooo, that’s the third dodge! Am I ever going to play a game, chat?” she whined.

Yoongi padded out into the hallway. Technically he was already halfway there. Might as well. Was this the stupidest shit he was ever going to do? Maybe. But she wasn’t going to expect it, that’s for sure. The thought made Yoongi smirk.

“When is Jungkook going to duo with me again? I don’t know guys; he said he has finals soon so he has to focus on school.” He heard her click her tongue. “Get him on cam again? Oh, I see, that’s what you all wanted... At least let him get through university.”

Yoongi stopped at the doorframe. Her hands were on her chin and she was sighing, looking depressed at her long queue time.

“Ah, so unlucky. It must be everyone’s dinnertime.”

He called her name in the same tone he usually used.

Her head lifted and her eyes floated in his direction.

Yoongi dropped the towel.

In less than a second, her eyes grew three sizes, jaw dropping. His wet hair stuck to his forehead, shading his eyes a bit. He cocked an eyebrow, slow smirk on his lips.

“Anything you want for dinner?”

-

What.

The.

FUCK?

You heard your queue pop, but you were frozen in place, gawking open-mouthed at your boyfriend standing in the doorframe of your streaming room, butt-ass naked, cock hard as a rock, towel on the ground. Did he just..? What the…? This was Min Yoongi. Your mild-mannered, somewhat-lazy, preferred-to-be-asleep boyfriend. Not suddenly-trying-to-send-you-to-horny-jail-in-front-of-three-thousand viewers boyfriend! You blinked at him, stuttering.

“Y-Yoongi…?”

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. Your voice was a little too breathless, a little too shocked. And slightly too needy for Twitch chat. Your face was heating up fast. You whipped your head back to the screen, realizing you missed the queue. At this point, you didn’t give a single shit.

“You know what, guys,” you said shakily, laughing awkwardly. “I better help Yoongi with dinner and be a good girlfriend.” You rose, feeling the wetness between your legs. “See you tomorrow!”

And you immediately turned off the stream, fuck, you turned off your whole damn computer, mashing the power button, and throwing one of your spare hoodies over the webcam. You exploded from your T1 gaming chair, literally shooting it back three feet into the League plushes behind you, ripping your headset off, tossing it onto the keyboard. Yoongi looked surprised, as if he expected you to be demurer about it.

Yeah, that’s not kind of woman you were.

“Min Yoon-gi,” you hissed, stressing every syllable of his name. “How the fuck do you think you can just show up naked and not expect me to want to immediately fuck you?”

Yoongi chuckled. “I wanted to see your reaction.”

You narrowed your eyes, pressing him against the door with your body. “You don’t watch TikTok. Who put you up to this? Jimin? Taehyung? Jungkook?”

His voice was low and husky. “You know the mankae line are trouble.”

Your hand snaked up into his damp hair and you pulled him down for a sensual kiss. His soft, pink lips parted and you nipped at his lower lip, grinding deliciously into his hard cock. Your sweatpants and underwear were in the way, but you moaned into his mouth, tongue grazing against his lips.

Mentally, you thanked the three mankaes for giving Yoongi this wonderful idea.

He breathed against your lips, smirking.

“How many pieces of clothing are you wearing?” he purred.

You grinned into his kiss, tongue between your teeth. “Four.”

“On brand for you.”

And then you two stumbled into the hallway, Yoongi’s hands on the hem of your hoodie, pushing it up as you kissed him over and over, whispering his name, telling him how handsome he was, how perfectly sexy he was with his wet hair and soft skin. His lips curved upwards under yours, basking in your compliments, drinking them up.

“Count for me,” he drawled, pulling the black T1 hoodie up.

You slipped out of it, sliding down, hands splaying over Yoongi’s chest.

“One.”

He tossed it aside as your hand wrapped around his cock. A sharp gasp left his lips feeling you stroke him slowly, your hand snaking around his neck and bringing his face close to yours, lips on lips. His hands curled around your waist, moving up, grasping the hook-and-eye of your black bra. All the while slowly making your way to the bedroom, nipping at his lips, sucking on his tongue.

Yoongi pinched, releasing your bra. You released his cock, letting it slide off your shoulders.

“Two,” you moaned, feeling his hands on your breasts, rolling your nipples in between his fingers.

“Hah, your body is so fucking hot,” Yoongi murmured. “Missed fucking you.”

You snickered, licking his lips. “Why don’t you actually try to wake me up for once instead of using my hand to jack yourself off at two in the morning?”

His dark brown eyes went wide, shock creeping into his voice. “W-what? How did you…?”

You pushed him through the doorframe of the bedroom. “You think I don’t notice your dick in my hands?” You reached down now, gripping it again, sighing softly at his hardness. “I’m a light sleeper.”

He sputtered at you, fingers curling under the waistband of your sweatpants. “No, you’re not.”

You grinned. “Yeah, you’re right, but this your cock we’re talking about, and I love your cock, Yoongi, fuck,” you continued, pumping him slowly as you felt his length twitch in your hands, his hands pushing down your pants, sliding down your legs.

“Three,” he breathed softly.

You took his larger hand and wrapped it around yours, stepping out of your pants.

“Go on, Yoongi. Show me what you do when you think I’m asleep,” you said softly, nudging him to the bed and laying him down, down, crawling over him, staring into his beautiful dark eyes, falling more and more in love with him every second. Yoongi bit his lip, looking back at you, shifting your hand up and down his cock, whimpering as he jacked himself off, but with your hand and your eyes on him.

“Fuck, you look so pretty,” he mumbled. “Such perfectly shaped eyes.”

You leaned down, squeezing him a little harder, a tiny gasp brushing against your lips. “That’s you, my love.”

He smirked, his free hand hooking on the side of your panties.

“Hit me with the fourth shot,” Yoongi teased, grinning.

You kissed him lightly, smiling. “That’s going to be a critical hit.”

“Better be a critical hit all over my dick.”

You laughed, reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out the drawer, taking out a condom. The two of you pulled down your black panties, Yoongi completing the final number.

“Four,” he exhaled, nearly moaning at the sight of your juices snapping against your thigh.

“Me on top?” you asked, ripping the condom open.

Yoongi’s naughty smirk grew. “You do love me.”

You slid the condom down his length, both of you gasping as his cock throbbed in your hands. You slid up, holding him with two fingers as you sank down on him, tipping your head back at the feeling of Yoongi’s cock buried deep inside.

“I’ve determined we don’t fuck enough,” you muttered, rolling your hips at the delicious sensation of being stretched out by your lover.

“I should wake up earlier,” Yoongi hissed, hands twisting in the sheets. “So we can shower together again.”

“You miss that?” You began to move, riding him deliberately slow but rough, slapping your hips together. You were leaking all over his crotch and balls, adding to the sound. “Miss me on my knees for you, wet from head to toe?”

“Hah… I was thinking about it in the shower,” he panted, feeling you lean down to change the angle, rolling the entire lower half of your body to fuck him hard, fast, intensely squeezing his cock at every descent. “You look so good covered in my cum, my love.”

You smirked, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah? Take some pictures. Show your friends.”

Yoongi laughed, that attractive raspy laugh that showed his pink gums and his pretty white teeth as you rode him, chasing your orgasm and determined to get him to his. “They fucking wish they could see this body,” he growled, a touch of possessiveness in his voice that made your spine shiver deliciously. “Bet they wish they could see you riding my dick right now, your perfect tits and ass bouncing on top of me.”

You clenched him harder and he moaned, head pressed into the pillows, eyes closing, drowning in the feeling of you.

“Ask them,” you snickered. “I already know Jimin’s answer.”

Yoongi gave you an open-mouthed smirk. “That fucking pervert.”

You slammed your hips together tightening your jaw and your core, sucking in his entire length, every contour imprinted into you, every vein pulsing into your walls, Yoongi so fucked out and gone under you, the best image in the entire fucking world. You leaned your head back, gasping triumphantly as the pleasure finally dropped, showering over you, your hips shaking, pussy throbbing all around him, splattering onto his crotch. Yoongi groaned, smacking his fists against the sheets as he shot up into you, cock swelling against your walls, choking out your name due to the strength of your orgasm. You felt your pussy milking him for every drop, draining him. Yoongi’s hips jerked involuntarily up towards you, squelching loudly and lewdly.

Fuck, you loved him.

You bent down, hand between your bodies, holding the condom down as you kissed his open mouth, tongue sliding in to stroke his, murmuring to him how much you loved him. Yoongi panted into your lips, hot erotic breaths that made you moan as you slowly removed yourself from his softening cock. He opened his eyes, half-lidded, drunk with pleasure. His voice was breathless, content.

“I love you.”

You smirked.

“Drop your towel some more, but maybe when I’m not live streaming.”

Yoongi laughed and you laughed too, because in the end it was still hilarious.

-

masterpost

[absconditum-imaginaerum]

Hyunjae | Vulnerable Words | 18.7K Genre | Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining Notes | Female!Reader x The Boyz Hyunjae, Post College AU. Mentions of alcohol, threats, unhealthy relationships, cursing.  A whole shared brain written piece of work; Rainah and I wrote such eerily similar stories without the other’s knowledge, and here’s my rendition. This is a work of fiction, and any depictions of actions, behaviors, thoughts, and personalities of characters used in this story do not reflect reality.  Summary |  Hyunjae’s been gone for six years, leaving his family and friends behind to escape some painful feelings. Once returning, he realizes that those six years did nothing to help his feelings, and after running into you again, he’s convinced they’ll never go away, and that you’ve felt the same way all along.

Hyunjae hadn’t spent a summer vacation—or any vacation for that matter—in his hometown since leaving for college. He couldn’t place exactly what drew him back, but his parents were ecstatic when he arrived with a suitcase in hand and a shy expression on his face, hoping he still had somewhere to stay, even unannounced, with them. There was an air about his hometown that felt like a sea breeze on his face, like a breath of fresh air, a familiarity he couldn’t seem to find anywhere else.  

His mother welcomed him with open arms, always thrilled to see her little boy, especially when she was never quite sure when she would see him again outside their visits to him. A fresh face he was surprised, but happy, to see was his older sister’s. She gave him a warm smile, waiting for her turn to embrace him after finally getting past their mother.

“You’ve been gone so long, you know,” she said to him. An explanation was queued in his throat transitorily just to hum in response, but for a moment just being welcomed by his family was calming.

“I always have classes in the summer and winter, and it’s a long way for a couple of days,” he explained. His father knew his ambitions, always studying extra hard at school, and was always encouraged to join extracurriculars or take more classes if he could—so he did.

“So, then, what made you take this summer off?” she asked.

It was an inevitable question he knew would be asked, but no matter how many times he thought to himself about the reason, he couldn’t come up with one other than he felt like he should, like he wanted to, like something was calling him back. Unable to answer, he shrugged it off before trekking up the stairs of a house he once called his.

Hyunjae got settled into his old room. Most of the things he didn’t take to college or didn’t ask to be kept were gone, and his bed was a full instead of a twin now, which must have meant that they used his room for guests—which he now was. For a brief moment, he sat on his bed, taking in the reality of actually being back in his hometown and seeing his family for the first time outside of FaceTime in a while. All the trinkets and pictures he’d asked his mom to save glimmered and glowered at him—maybe it was time to go through them to see what he wanted to get rid of. He reached over and gently plucked a silver frame from the dresser which encased a picture of himself and a girl he knew from a long time ago: his childhood best friend.  

Hyunjae thought about you often, about what you were doing, if school had treated you well and how your family was— you both were that type of friends, the type that was close with the other’s family, the type whose families were basically your own.  After moving away, he’d thought about you a lot through college in many lights; the good and the bad.

It was late enough in the evening that fifteen minutes into feeling nostalgic about his old life and friendships made it to dinner time. He was almost startled by the way his mom softly knocked on the frame of his door to alert him that dinner was ready, and although he didn’t feel overly hungry, he wouldn’t refuse mom’s homemade cooking or dare not sit down with them at the very least.  

The evening wasn’t eventful, mostly just catching his family up on what life has been like for the time he’d been away, and similarly asked about things going on around there—about how much it had changed and become more accommodating to the younger crowd and how things had shifted around and all of the infrastructure that had been built. It was so much busier than he’d last remembered, with new shopping strips of immaculate and fingerprint-less glass storefronts with fancy chrome polished doors and neon signs that lit up the night; new bars and restaurants popping up in more populated areas he’d only glazed over while in the back of a ride-share on the way to his parent’s home.  

His family stayed up much later than they had back before he left for college—he only knew because it was unusual for him to be tired before the rest of them, but when he took a peek at the clock, registering quarter to twelve, he was surprised.

“You’ve had a long day of travels, you don’t have to stay up for us,” Hyunjae’s mother commented, resting a hand against her son’s shoulder to bring him back to life, somewhat, as he was dozing off a bit in the corner of the couch. After moving to get up he gave her a soft smile, bid his family goodnight, and headed back to his room.  

The bed and sheets were different, but somehow the way they slid over his body, the cool sheets meeting the warmth of his skin, something about it felt like home. Maybe it was the familiarity of the shape of his room, of the same furniture in the same spots, some trinkets still here and there he had fond memories of, or the comfort of the pillows that he sunk into like a sack of bricks. Maybe he really just was that tired from traveling and the somewhat mental exhaustion of being back and still not understanding what brought him here that any old bed may have felt like this. Despite that, he couldn’t help but glance over to the picture he was hanging on to previously. You both had just graduated high school in the picture, hanging on each other with playful smiles donning your caps and gowns. He wondered what you looked like now because he knew he looked quite a bit different.

Then he began to wonder if you ever thought about him, about how once he left for college the two of you quickly stopped talking... And now that he was thinking about it, he wondered if the number in his phone was even still your number.

Audibly sighing, he rolled onto his side to face away from the dresser from which that photograph was glowering at him, or so it felt. He closed his eyes and pressed his head deep into the pillow, tucking the sheets under his arm so just enough chill of the air conditioning would make it comfortable and somehow, despite his racing thoughts, he fell asleep.  

Three days of summer ‘vacation’ went by agonizingly slowly, but he’d gotten the opportunity to look around some new shops that had popped up around the area with his sister before he was looking at your number in his contacts. Was it even worth reaching out to you? Would you even want to see him? Surely if he was having these feelings, there was a chance that maybe you were feeling them, too. So, as he sat across a bistro table from his sister after ordering lunch, his finger hovered over the message button before typing something quickly so he couldn’t change his mind.

An immediate notification came back from his service provider, notifying him that the number he had messaged was no longer in service, but that didn’t seem to ease his tension any as he looked back at the message with a displeased expression—shockingly upset in a way even he couldn’t understand.  

“Who are you secretly texting under the table?” Hyunjae’s sister asked, not even remotely distracted with her food enough to not notice.

Hyunjae sighed, there was no reason to lie—it didn’t even really matter at this point, all hopes of him contacting you had been thwarted by the fact that you’d changed your number who even knew how long ago.

“An old friend from a long time ago, but their number is disconnected,” he replied with a sigh and all but tossed his phone against the rustic wood table, finally turning to his flavored tea for the first sip since it had arrived, and already their food was there. “I haven’t seen her since we both left for separated colleges… I figured if I was going to be here, it might be worth seeing her if she was still around.”

She looked at him for a moment; one name clicking in her mind right away and without thinking blurted it out. Hyunjae turned his gaze away from his plate, trying to wrangle his appetite, and up to his sister. Your name almost hurt him to speak out loud, but his look only confirmed his sister’s suspicions.

“Her family still lives around the corner, their old house…” she trailed off, trying not to step on any toes if there were toes to be stepped on, “I’m sure her mom would like to see you, she asks about you a lot.”

“Mom never told me that,” Hyunjae replied, appetite completely out the window that his point even if he picked around at the side of fruit on his plate.

“At the very least, you might be able to ease yourself about it.”  

So, after a few more days of hanging around at home, helping his mom with some shopping, and exploring his some-what forgotten town with his sister, he pulled on a light jacket after dinner and announced he was going for a walk. His sister gave him a knowing look, almost promising she wouldn’t say where he was going as he stepped into his shoes and left out the front door. The way to your house was emblazoned in his mind, he knew it like the back of his hand—it was close and he couldn’t even count the number of times he’d been there over the years.

The yard was the same, littered with beautiful flowers as it always had been—your mother had a knack for gardening. All the flora was nicely groomed while the outside lights illuminated the walk-way a pale yellow color that glowed in the twilight air.  He approached the door, a tight knot in his stomach; he hadn’t even planned anything to say to you, if you happened to be there, which almost made him turn back if he hadn’t already pressed the bell, listening to it chime loudly through the house before a quiet voice called back.

Hyunjae shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he listened to the locks turn before the door opened to a woman he was so familiar with, a woman who didn’t look a day older than when he’d last seen her at his high school graduation. A soft smile pulled at his lips, and his eyes softened just looking at her.  She smiled back, although there was a glint in her eyes that told him that she wasn’t quite sure who he was.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely.

Hyunjae’s smile faded a bit, but not enough to drop from his face.

“I’m here to see my second family, after being gone for six years,” he replied gently, hoping that was enough.

She shook her head as her gaze cast away from him, which inevitably resulted in the smile dropping from Hyunjae’s face.

“Six years pass and your son from another family doesn’t even call you mom anymore,” she teased him as her eyes came back up to meet his disappointed gaze. “You’ve gotten so tall over the years, Hyunjae.”

His smile struggled to come back, and all he knew was the warmth of her embrace as she stepped just outside the door to wrap her arms around him. “I ask about you all the time, your mother always tells me how busy you’ve been and that you don’t even come to visit them.”

Somehow it made him feel guiltier coming from your mom than his own mom—maybe that was because his dad was always chirping in the background about studying hard, about how they’d always be there for him to come back when he was ready. His hands slowly pulled out of his pockets to embrace her back with words caught in his throat, a poor excuse of an explanation about why he hadn’t come back. It didn’t matter, the thought of you loomed in the back of his mind like a bad dream, and, as if her intuition could still reach him…

“She’s out at work tonight. Would you like me to let her know you dropped by?”

Now he was really on the spot. He could feel a shiver shoot down his spine and he thought about just asking for your phone number, but that felt like too much of a hassle. His hands shook a bit, and he was sure your mom could hear the way his heart raged against the cage of his chest just trying to come up with a response to a simple yes or no question.

“Yes, please,” he finally blurted, but it sounded unsure, there was no conviction. She reeled back to get a good look at his face, to see the nerves all over it, to see the frustration knitted in his brow.

“She asks me about you, which is half the reason I ask about you. When your mom said you never come around for holidays—”

“I wish she’d called me,” he interrupted; but did he mean it?

“You both were busy! She didn’t want to bother you—if you weren’t coming home for vacation, she figured you were doing other things. I’ll let her know you stopped by, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear that you’re in visiting for a bit.”

Hyunjae slowly nodded and allowed your mom to return inside and bid him goodnight before he was turning away on autopilot. A million things were running through his mind—the most important seemed to be what would he say to you when he finally did see you again for the first time? He couldn’t even come up with something good to say even on the spot with you potentially answering the door to your childhood home. For certain he knew that he would be standing there, looking like a fool, stuttering for quite some time—he had no doubt you’d just look at him with that same patient look whenever he couldn’t come up with the right words for you.  

After returning, he didn’t have too much to say as he headed up to his room, the same thoughts cycling his mind like a cropped film reel, but it wasn’t distracting enough to stop him from grabbing that same silver-framed photo of the two of you and plopped on his bed to look at it, hoping it would inspire some things to say.

At least he’d have three days before seeing you, finally, but it was fairly unexpected. His family was just getting ready to sit down to eat when there was a knock on the door. As the youngest and spryest, Hyunjae stood from the table to allow his family to start eating, but they were just as curious. An awkwardness loomed the moment his eyes met yours after tugging the door open; of course, he didn’t recognize you, really—it had been a good chunk of time since he last saw you.

“Sorry, maybe I’m at the wrong house,” you tried, a plate of baked goods in your hands as you looked back at Hyunjae before taking a step back to look at the address. There was a screech of a chair across the floor as it was being pushed out, followed by another one before the doorway was crowded by his sister and mother who greeted you enthusiastically. It didn’t take long for you to come to the ultimate conclusion.

Your eyes shot back to Hyunjae’s, who was still looking at you despite all of the commotion coming from around him which inevitably pushed him out of the way of the doorway. Somehow the plate was coaxed out of your hand with a million questions being asked about it and you were being tugged into the house with insistence that you join them for dinner. You couldn’t answer, your gaze remained locked with Hyunjae until the both of them realized that he was your primary focus, and quickly the chatter stopped and silence took over again.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something to her?” his sister asked, prompting him to come somewhat back to life and he shook his head, swallowing hard, but still nothing was in there to say—he wasn’t sure what to say, so he settled with your name.  There was a burning within your face that you couldn’t contain, and couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed away from his face.

“Hyunjae… it’s been so long, I didn’t even recognize you,” you finally said, but still didn’t feel comfortable just yet looking back up at him.

Hyunjae swallowed the knot in his throat, and after some prompting from his sister in the background, finally found something good to say.

“Would you… would you please stay for dinner with us?” he asked. You could feel the nerves in the shakiness of his voice, and in the half-step he took towards you which you could only see because you were looking at his feet. “There’s plenty, and you’re not a bother, and… to be honest, I tried messaging you the other day, but I don’t have your number anymore and I went to your mom’s and—”

“I’ll stay,” you replied, finally finding the heart to look up at him with a soft genuine smile. You could hear his sister and mom behind you, but still, you were focused on the grown-up boy in front of you, who had grown so tall since you’d last seen him—you weren’t even heighted anymore. Hyunjae pulled out your chair at the table and got you a plate and some utensils. Naturally, he placed you between him and his sister where you usually sat when you stayed with them for dinner when you were younger.

Conversation ensued quickly between you and the rest of Hyunjae’s family since you were still far more familiar with them. You settled in next to Hyunjae again, and although there was a lot to talk about, a lot to catch up on between the two of you, you enjoyed the fact that the rest of the family was breaking the awkwardness and allowing you and Hyunjae to chime in when appropriate.

The conversation was mostly about you, about school, about how life had been since leaving for college since you and Hyunjae had pretty much broken contact by the end of the first semester. Honestly, it broke both your hearts a little bit, and you could feel the stinging of those same pieces even now. Hyunjae told you what your mom said, about you not wanting to call him, and all of the subsequent lack of communication that led to your complete separation. Conversation seemed to flow a bit more freely between the two of you again, deep somewhere there was an understanding about the hurt that the split caused the both of you. Unfortunately, after that, dinner went quickly and although it wasn’t getting too late, you felt like you needed to go.

“Thank you for the lovely dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Lee, inviting me in so unannounced,” you began, and then addressed Hyunjae’s sister and then Hyunjae.

“It’s always a pleasure to have you over, dear,” Mrs. Lee commented with that same full smile she always had. She always made you feel like a part of the family, like her own daughter.

“Let me walk you home,” Hyunjae offered.

“It’s not far,” you reminded him.

“It’s late and I don’t want you to go by yourself,” he insisted.  

He could see the fight in your eyes, the same fight from the number of years ago when he’d say the same thing, when he’d walk you home no matter how much you insisted it wasn’t necessary. The way you dug in was noticeable, preparing to stand your ground against him because, who was he to be so concerned as someone who left? And maybe that was the wrong mindset to have about him because you could feel, even in the way he looked at you, that he still cared for you.

Hyunjae gave you that look where his gaze got a little more tender and there was an almost unnoticeable raise of his brows and a head flick towards the door. It had you swallowing hard, barely even noticing the silence before it was interrupted.

“Please, Hyunjae will walk you home! It’s safer that way!” Hyunjae’s sister chimed in and took a hold of your arm to bring you back to earth. You looked at her, blinking a few times before reluctantly nodding. She gave you a tight squeeze, reminding you how good it was to see you and to not be a stranger because she would always be around and Hyunjae was home for the whole summer.  

Out of old habit, Hyunjae extended his elbow to you, and, to avoid being overly awkward, you took it, but not without looking up at him questioningly as he was pulling you out of the door. You walked slowly side by side once getting off the initial porch of his parent’s home, and he reached over to cup over your hand to keep it from slipping away.

“If you don’t mind too much…” he trailed off, asking you to keep your hand around his arm as he escorted you to your home. He didn’t look at you, even when you looked up at him. It was okay, though, because you could hear something in his voice that pained you a bit, so you tightened your grip around his bicep as you moseyed along the sidewalk. The street lamps provided dim light, barely enough to see the cracks in the slabs of concrete. Admittedly, you felt better that he was walking you home anyway—ever since all of the development in the area, it somehow felt less safe year after year that you’d come home for the summer or winter.  

Hyunjae was silent the entirety of the walk; the only noise he did make was an occasional rough exhale of a somewhat held breath, and in the off chance that you attempted to sneak a peek of him from the corner of your eye you could see his chest contract with that exhale. Then, you were under the familiar light of your home’s porch before you were ready. You knew the walk was only a couple of blocks, but you’d hoped there was more time with the pace at which you were walking. There was so much stuck in your throat that you wanted to say, so much that probably wouldn’t ever come out unless he spoke first; but it looked like there was little to no intention.  

You could feel his bicep flex under your hand, his whole body tensing up next to you as he took another rickety breath. With your eyes still cast down at the ground, you turned your head to him before your gaze fluttered up his chest to his throat and eventually his face; he had gotten so much taller since leaving. The numbers of your address next to it seemed to scrutinize him before he swallowed hard. Hyunjae carefully peeled your hand away from his arm and held onto it as he helped you up the step onto your actual porch landing.

“Hyunjae,” you tried as you turned to face him—leaving in complete silence seemed incomprehensible, unimaginable.

“I’m sorry,” he replied quietly, but his gaze was still cast to the side of you. “I guess just actually seeing you, actually sitting down with you at the table with my family like old times just…opened wounds I didn’t know were there…”

The tone in his voice and the look in his distant gaze was like putting salt in the wounds you knew were there, you knew had been there for years. It took a few moments of silence, but his eyes eventually found yours. He looked at you with a tenderness you’d never seen out of him before, and of course, over six years there was a lot of growing and a lot of changes, but this particular look put knots in your stomach, unlike anything you had ever felt before.

“I think if we’re going to do any mending, that’s a talk we need to have,” you answered, finally noticing the way his hand lingered in yours, the way it had been for the last few moments that you hadn’t registered his fingers playing with yours.

The moment his gaze turned away from yours again, you took a step forward and your hand left his to turn his chin back towards you. “That means you can’t run away again,” you reminded him, as if his first departure away to college was him running away in the first place.

He nodded in your soft grip, but you could see the way his brow ached to draw together.

“Go home, sleep on it, get the right words… we’ll talk,” you told him, hands both dropping back to your sides.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, but this time you weren’t sure what for. Just as you were about to turn towards your door to leave him, he took you around the middle and dragged you into him, hulling you up against his firm chest as his arms tightened against you. Initially, you were surprised. The audacity, but also the guts it took to pull you into a hug when he was stumbling over his words like a dancer with two left feet. Your hands ghosted up his arms, slowly feeling his frame—tall and warm against your own—before your arms draped across his shoulders. Your head was turned to the side, pressed against his collar turned inwards towards the center, and, much to your own surprised, you relished the hug like home. This felt akin to the hug he gave you before you both departed to your separate cities, vowing that he would maintain contact which quickly disintegrated. Honestly, it had tears pricking at your eyes like you were saying goodbye all over again, but also releasing the gates on the emotions you’d stowed away for all those years with no thoughts that he’d ever come back.

His breathing was now even more noticeably rickety with your head pressed up against his chest. A few more times he apologized, still for reasons you weren’t aware of, and squeezed you even tighter for just a moment longer before he was finally releasing you.

“I’ll wait until you’re inside,” he said as you stepped back from him, and even still he wouldn’t look right at you.

“Go home safely,” you replied, stepping backward until your back unceremoniously hit your front door. You were pawing at the handle, watching him wait for you until you finally popped the door to let yourself inside. “Goodnight, Hyunjae,” you added.

“Goodnight,” he replied, and your gaze finally met his before you turned to close him away from you.

--

Hyunjae spent the next couple of days mulling over your brief conversation about a conversation that still was yet to be had. It was up to him to find you when he was ready; obviously, he had a lot to say to you which would undoubtedly be coupled with a bit of stumbling around for the correct words, no matter how many days he had to think about it.  

At least, he attempted to think about it. He slowly kicked his way down the river-front walkway to the dock where you used to play around as kids. The river-front was full of all kinds of neat little local mom and pop shops that gave life to the town, especially when the sun was setting in spring or fall when it gleamed off the river just right and an array of purples and oranges and all the colors in between painted the sky so beautifully. It used to be an empty area, abandoned commercially with the docks left to be perfect ground to play pretend as kids.

He remembered the dock fondly as he stepped off the concrete path and onto the surprisingly preserved wooden boards that looked like they had been sanded and re-varnished recently. Maybe the dock was still in use for smaller boats, or maybe those people who owned the river-front stores kept it looking nice for tourism purposes. Either way, he was happy, because that meant he had to worry less about splinters.

The tide was out, so there was plenty of room for Hyunjae to dangle his legs off the side of the dock as he took a seat, looking out to the glittering seawater which was reflecting the aforementioned sunset colors. He recalled all the fond memories he had of this particular dock with you—it was where you spent most of your time together playing pirates and other silly little kids games and remembered one time very vividly when he was roughhousing a little too much and you ended up tumbling off the dock into the water. He was lucky his older sister was there to pull you out—you were maybe six or seven at the time; he remembered how bad he felt, how many times he profusely apologized and the way you smiled about it, laughed about it even and gave him a hard time for being too concerned. Looking back on it, he wouldn’t have changed anything.

Incessantly he gnawed at his bottom lip, doing a little more thinking of the way things used to be and less thinking about what he would say to you when the inevitable conversation came. Maybe he’d benefit from playing through his memories, and he would have continued to think of them if there wasn’t an iced drink being shaken right next to his ear.

He jumped, a bit startled by the sound, and looked over to a stout iced coffee being handed to him and followed the arm up to your face, where you smiled at him jovially with the straw of your own coffee comfortable between your lips.

“Did you know I would be here?” he asked you and tenderly took the coffee from you and scooted over to make a bit of room for you to sit next to him. You plopped down, hanging your legs off the side of the dock the same way his were for a moment, examining your coffee as you stirred it.

“I had a hunch… and then I stopped by your house,” you told him, implying that they had told you that he went for a walk, but how many places could he possibly go in a city that wasn’t his anymore.

“I’m not ready to have the talk,” he replied quickly as to not get your hopes up about it.

“That’s okay,” you said, “we don’t have to talk about that, we can talk about anything. Or we don’t have to talk at all.”

“But you bought me a coffee—”

“I could see you from the shop,” you laughed, referencing the river-front shop maybe fifty yards away.

Hyunjae just nodded, still too nervous to even look at you again since taking the coffee from you in the first place. He hadn’t even tasted it, just continued to spin the ice around the clear plastic cup as condensation built up on its sides before finally mustering the courage to thank you for the coffee.

A few moments of silence passed--if he didn’t have anything to say, that was fine, but you wouldn’t be the one to force conversation as you kicked your feet back and forth and continued to sip on your coffee. You found the nerves fluttering around in your stomach were also making it hard to look at him, which probably benefitted him anyway.

You wouldn’t, and couldn’t, blame him for being closed off, and gave him a pass for a couple of days ago, the affection and openness after the first time seeing you; the well of emotions was hard to ignore especially when the two of you used to be so close. But now that he had a few days to settle in, a few days to think about that… a different tune was expected. The imminent conversation that loomed in the background of both your minds (perhaps at the forefront of his) was only exacerbating the awkwardness you stewed in.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked after a moment; you had, after all, been the one to come second. It was his dock if he wanted it.

“No, I’m sorry. A million things are running through my mind, and I’m just trying to not say something stupid,” he replied, and finally, the blood rushing through him gave him enough adrenaline, faux confidence, to turn his head just enough to peer at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make this trip so hard on you—”

“It’s not you, it’s me. It’s one hundred percent me, and that’s the part I’m grappling the hardest with. I just…” He sighed, taking a moment to compose himself as he ran his free hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead just to let it flutter back into place. “You must hate me, for treating you the way I did. For never bothering to check in with you, or even come back. For just leaving you behind like you were nothing.”

His words stung, indubitably. Although that was the fact of the matter, you’d always tried to make excuses for him, but when he gave it to you in total plainness, you understood his feelings a bit better.

“I was afraid to go, and part of me felt like I would be better off if I just… forgot about here and everything with it.” He paused for a moment, biting that bottom lip harder than ever before, and stifled a growl deep in his throat when he finally clenched his teeth together. “I’m sorry, for being such a… freaking jerk!” His voice raised volume at the end of his sentence, emphasizing the way he assumed you felt about him because that was how he felt about him.  “There’s so much more I want to say to you but I just don’t… I don’t have the right words yet.”

He took a deep swig of his coffee to try to cool himself off after winding himself up, but it was mostly so he’d shut up before saying anything else harmful because he could already feel the shift in your aura that wasn’t so jovial anymore. Admittedly, his words clawed at the metaphorical stitch job over your wounds, pulling hard at the threads that closed them up, and you could taste a bit of that initial pain resurfacing. Emotionally, you didn’t want to have that coming conversation, but logically you knew that if you were going to heal completely about each other that it was entirely necessary.    

“Thank you for being vulnerable with me,” you finally said after a few moments of silence. You knew how much it took to get just even that out, the amount of pride he undoubtedly had to push aside to admit fault in the first place. The fact that he openly admitted he was afraid was somehow unlike the Hyunjae you used to know.  

He couldn’t even look at you again and took another sip of his coffee to effectively polish off the small cup before he discarded it to the side you sat on. Gingerly, you collected it intending to throw it away when you left, guessing it would be before him. The silence that loomed between you had you able to hear the way his fingernails scratched against the fresh varnish of the dock in frustration.

“Why are you even sitting here with me? I wouldn’t even have the patience to talk to me until it was time to hear me grovel at your feet about what a piece of shit I was and how I don’t even deserve you to still be in my life anyway and that it was foolish of me to even go to your house, to begin with, and—”

“Stop,” you interrupted, maneuvering both cups to one hand somehow just so you could set your now free hand down on top of his to squeeze it.  

“But I just—”

“Hyunjae, stop!” you pleaded, and he’d finally turned to look you in the eye, entirely, for the first time since you sat down. “You’re not a piece of shit—”

“Only that could possibly do to you what I did; a spineless and weak little—”

“Enough!” you begged—now he was just making you angry, but only because you were hurt with the way he beat himself up harder than you ever would; that was something you found familiar about him.  “You know I don’t think that!”

“Don’t sit here and lie to my face like this,” he almost growled. “I know what I did to you, and I would hate me—”

“Great, but you’re not me,” you fired back with matched ferocity, and so you exchanged your look between his eyes, noting the way they shimmered amber reflecting the sunset light off the water, noting the way they looked at you with such intensity, while trying to stave the tears that were pushing against his waterline. There was a bubbling against your throat, words you knew you didn’t want to say that burned like wildfire. You continued to switch between his eyes, knowing the things queued weren’t going to help the situation in any way and so, to avoid saying something you knew you’d regret, and since you knew he wouldn’t stop pushing you, you pushed up from the dock and took his empty plastic cup with you to leave him with the burn of your hand on top of his and that distinct lack of your gaze into his eyes.

Then, and only then, did the tears that threatened have room to fall. His nails scraped against the dock even harder as he clenched his fist, still able to feel the warmth of your hand on top of his as he stared through the ghost of your presence. His jaw was tight, and his tears were hot—they were angry, frustrated, discontent but not with you. The wounds were deeper than he thought, still more tender than he thought, and all that led him to a harsh conclusion—the final talk would be even worse hell than he initially imagined.  

__

A few days away from each other allowed for a bit of cooling off. Hyunjae drafted a few notes of things he wanted to say to you but often scrapped them, knowing that it would sound ingenuous if he was reading off a cue card. Several crumpled half sheets of paper filled his trashcan, a sight that annoyed him even as he lay on his bed with his eyes closed, knowing he needed to get something to stick. It was already two weeks into summer break and while there was plenty of break left, the sooner you had this talk, the sooner he would stop feeling like complete garbage for being in the same town as you.

That’s really what it was; initially, it felt so good to see you again—although you’d changed a lot in six years, the familiar presence made home feel a lot more comfortable. But the more he settled in, the more he thought about it—thought about what you were feeling, thought about how you made him feel, thought about everything that went down before he said what he imagined was his last goodbye and quite frankly, for as much as he cherished and cared about you, the goodbye was sub-par to shit. And he knew it would come crashing down, that comforting euphoria of having you close to him again when those fateful words exited your mouth: that’s a talk we need to have.

He hated the feeling that was coursing through him now, touching every nerve ending he had, absolute dread. Now, he was feeling like it was a mistake to come back, although he was entitled to the town as much as you were as his family lived there also—the biggest mistake was trying to see you again.  

A knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts and his eyes opened to look at it as it began to crack open. His sister had a tray with some cups and a kettle on that she was maneuvering through the door, pushing it back closed with her foot as she set the tray on the large dresser to the left. She looked at Hyunjae before noticing the pile of paper around his small garbage.

“What happened?” she asked, knowing it was something because Hyunjae seldom spent so much time in his room, plus he’d been off for a couple of days since he’d seen you at the dock.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hyunjae replied, gracefully accepting the freshly poured tea his sister was handing him.

“I don’t think that’s what I asked,” she replied—she usually didn’t let him get away with that, even since they were kids.

Hyunjae sighed and blew on his cup of tea for a moment. “Just marinating in the consequences of my colossal fuck ups,” he replied with a fake smile to the emptiness of his room, although the statement was directed at his sister.

“She doesn’t hate you, if that’s what you think,” she replied and took a seat on his bed. “She’s hurt about you; I’d be hurt about you. There’s a lot to process between the two of you right now, a bit deeper than you might expect to find. It’s awkward and tense and tough to swallow, but you have to do it if you want to salvage it. But I know she doesn’t hate you.”

He swallowed hard; he didn’t even want to look at his sister for the time being as he was having a hard time with the things she was even saying—they were true; he knew they were true. But about you not hating him? Maybe he didn’t believe that. He was slipping into his thoughts again before his phone started vibrating in his pocket. It was unusual, because seldom did anyone call anymore, and who would be calling anyway? He finagled it out of his pocket to look at the caller ID to see someone he recognized: Kevin Moon.  

Hesitantly, he swiped to answer, leaving his sister to occupy herself about his room.  

“Hello?” he muttered unconfidently.

“Hyunjae! I heard you’re finally back in town!” Kevin’s voice seemed a bit too jovial, jolting Hyunjae a bit.  

“Ahh… yeah. It’s been a minute, huh?” he inquired less enthusiastically.

“A minute! More like a lifetime; you’ve been gone for six years! Anyway enough about that; I’ve planned a get-together for a bunch of friends from back in the day! You know, our high school group! When I heard you were back, I had to invite you! You should come by, I’m sure everyone would love to see you!”

It would be rude to ask who was invited, and then decide based on that; but there was certainly a handful of people he would do better not seeing again, perhaps.  He had an answer queued in his throat, he wanted to say that he wouldn’t make it—

“You better go, you’re not doing anything and you need to get out,” his sister commented, loud enough for Kevin to hear.

The look on Hyunjae’s face dropped in an instant when Kevin confirmed that he heard and looked at his sister with daggers in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you,” he mouthed to her but she just smiled and sipped her tea. He composed himself with a deep breath before agreeing to be there and briefly negotiated the time and place and after Kevin hung up, he let out an exasperated sigh.

“There are so many people who are going to be there that I don’t want to see,” he grumbled.

“But there’s so many people who you do! Plus, people who would love to see you, and you can’t just mope around here all day, I won’t have it!” she exclaimed and took her seat back next to him. “You need to get out; sitting up here and thinking about what you’re going to say will make you age too fast. The right words will come, I promise.”

“I think you’re too confident,” Hyunjae said.

“I need to be confident for both of us,” she reminded him and filled her cup back up before leaving him with the rest of the pot in his room.

It was already late in the afternoon at that point, and Kevin’s party would be starting in a couple of hours. He sat on his bed with his legs crossed as he finished off the pot of tea, taking up another half an hour before finally deciding he would shower for the party and at least try to look more put together than he felt.  What did the extent of the old group mean? Because you were technically part of the old group; asking about you outright would be too suspicious. There would be plenty of people there to keep you both distracted from each other especially since they’d undoubtedly seen you far more, which meant it was likely he’d be engaged the whole time.

He set the tray off to the side on his desk—he’d take it back downstairs later—and grabbed some things for the shower with a sincere hope that some hot water would help clear his mind. And perhaps he spent far too much time in there, because by the time he got out and checked the clock it was already twenty minutes passed when he thought it was. He rushed through toweling his hair somewhat dry enough to comb it a certain way and hoped it would stay, tugged on a black button-up and a light wash pair of jeans before he was heading out the door, mentioning briefly to his parents that he was going to Kevin’s, a name they were familiar with, and that he’d be back later.

When Kevin answered the door, it was nothing short of a party right there. It had been a long time since any of them had seen him, so the commotion was understandable, and then an actual genuine smile broke on Hyunjae’s face as he clapped hands with his buddy who was quickly garnering the attention of the other party-goers who had also missed him.  

Hyunjae stepped through the door, a cup immediately put in his hand as he greeted all his old high school buddies amongst the dimly lit room. Kevin always knew how to set the mood of a get-together; this was no different, done up with candles and string lights that slowly faded to different soft colors with some low music in the background. There were a couple of yard games going on outside, corn hole and beer pong with tables of appetizers and coolers full of drinks of all varieties.  

“Wow, Kev, you went all out,” Hyunjae commented and reached into his pocket for his wallet to try and supplement some of the cost, but Kevin stopped him immediately.

“You’re the guest of honor; you’re the whole reason I put this thing together,” he replied and encouraged him to put his wallet back. “When I heard you were back I knew the guys would be stoked to see you. It seems like you’ve been gone a lifetime!”

Hyunjae laughed nervously and hoped that he wouldn’t be asked why he never came back to visit. It was a thought he was still grappling with; a thought he knew half the answer to but the other half was something he’d rather not visit. He had mentioned it to you out loud that day on the dock and it left a burning in his throat ever since—he couldn’t decide if it was because it was the truth or because he knew he was only telling you part of it.   Regardless, he tried to push it from his mind before taking a swig from the plastic solo cup in his hand: a hurricane tasting concoction that wasn’t quite right and a bit too strong.  

As he expected, he was fairly occupied with the swaths of conversations, always being caught by someone new he thought he’d never see again to strike up a conversation about what he was up to and so far, he’d avoided the dreaded question about not visiting. It was safe to assume that he was just caught up in things; Hyunjae was always a hard studier; school was very important.  In a fairly short time, considering the duration of Kevin’s parties typically, he’d gotten through most of the high school group who had come up to him in small circles to greet him and catch up a bit.  

For a bit, he’d been roped into a couple of games of corn hole. It was fun while it lasted, although he couldn’t say he was any good at it. It was the bonding and laughing that counted, especially when someone’s throw was particularly bad and they all laughed at each other for never playing games like this in their college days—it seemed everyone turned out to be quite studious in their time at school and spent less time at frat parties.  

When one of the rounds was finally over and Hyunjae’s drink had run dry, he found a replacement for his team and excused himself back inside the house to make something more his speed. There were a few small circles of people who seemed like they were all catching up—turned out he wasn’t the only one gone for an extended period. Hyunjae dug through a cooler for a can of coke to mix his own drink before he was overhearing some drama he probably shouldn’t have concerned himself with, but it was right around the corner from the kitchen and it sounded unwelcomed.  

“Please just leave me alone,” a voice Hyunjae recognized sounded quietly. Suddenly his desires were conflicted when could tell they were trying not to make a scene but then recognized the voice as yours. On the one hand, he figured the two of you needed a little more space, but on the other hand, was he about to just stand by and let whoever was bothering you continue to do so?

No, he couldn’t let it go, and set his cup down on the kitchen counter, and carefully rounded the corner of the wall to find you sandwiched between it and Sangyeon, someone he considered to be close friends with at one point in time. The look on your face when you finally opened your eyes to see him was nothing short of desperate, but Sangyeon had you locked in tight.  

Hyunjae wanted to verbalize his protest, but the look on your face caught his words in his throat. Instead, he stepped forward and took Sangyeon’s shoulder to pull him away from you.

“She asked you to leave her alone,” he was finally able to manage just as Sangyeon had stumbled back slightly, ready to give Hyunjae a few choice words before meeting eyes with the familiar younger male.  In less than a second flat, you’d scrambled off the wall to take Hyunjae’s arm as he protectively tucked you behind him, expecting a confrontation. Sangyeon knew the history between you and Hyunjae well.

“Dude, it’s cool,” he tried, a friendly smile on his face as he reached for you.

“Dude, it’s not cool. She asked you to leave her alone,” Hyunjae fired back, taking a step back, and subsequently stepping you back.

“Babe, just tell him—”

“I’m not your babe anymore, Sangyeon. I thought that was clear,” you spat from behind Hyunjae.  Although there was shock in his subconscious, he couldn’t let that display on his face. He kept his expression as stone-cold as possible as he glared down the older male who was gritting his teeth. It wasn’t hard to piece together the situation; you and Sangyeon used to date, you called it off and Sangyeon didn’t like it.

“I got it, Hyunjae,” Sangyeon tried again, as if trying to convince him that it was a situation he didn’t need to be a part of, but he could feel your grip tighten a little bit on his arm and he wasn’t about to abandon you—he didn’t care who to.

“How about you take a walk,” Hyunjae suggested, knowing what Sangyeon was implying. The older seemed shocked by his reply, and rightfully so. “She asked you to leave her alone; I don’t think she should have to do so again.”  

There was an uncomfortable silence that loomed between the three of you, and you could see the look in Sangyeon’s eyes that you were pretty familiar with and so tugged yourself closer to Hyunjae. The younger raised his brow, prompting for a reply or for the older to move on. It was clear Hyunjae wasn’t going to back off, especially not as he tucked you just a little bit further behind him.

“Take a walk,” Hyunjae reaffirmed, a growl on the tail of his words and he stood firm until Sangyeon growled, attempting to glare past the other male to get to you, but Hyunjae consistently stepped in his view to make sure that would not be successful.

It hurt your pride a little bit, to be rescued from your ex-boyfriend by anyone at that party, but most particularly Hyunjae who you were not expecting to see, although you were expecting him to be there—and you really weren’t anticipating him seeing that. Surely he knew, and surely he gave you a couple of moments to decide what you wanted to do as you stood against him, against his back, waiting for Sangyeon to clear out and even beyond. Hyunjae’s rhythmic breathing was soothing as he made no moves and only looked forward; he could feel the way your hand still furled into his pressed black shirt, the way your forehead lay against his shoulder blade while his hands dangled at his sides.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a few moments. He was met immediately with a tightness of his shirt, as you gripped it a little harder.  “Did he hurt you, physically?” he asked, since he could tell you probably weren’t okay, at least for the time being, and he could feel you shake your head against his shoulder.  

“Let’s sit somewhere quiet,” he suggested and waited for you for a moment before you were peeling yourself off his back. You expected he wouldn’t look at you, just lead the way through the house that he had been in more times than he could count as he led you towards the back of the house, but not before being caught by a passerby. Feeling a tug on his arm as you responded to the tug on your arm, Hyunjae jolted to a stop.

“Are you okay?” Younghoon asked you. It wasn’t so far out of reach that you be put in a position you didn’t want to be in, but Younghoon couldn’t know that you’d just been rescued from one. Before you could answer, Hyunjae looked over his shoulder at Younghoon.

“O-oh,” Younghoon stuttered. Everyone around knew about you and Hyunjae. “Of course, I’m sorry,” he apologized, soothed only by the warmth of your smile as you pushed the threatening tears further and further so that you could finally get out of there as you were pulled into a back guest room—you could tell it was a guest room because of the décor and the dust on the furnishings. Hyunjae closed the door behind you as he found the light and flicked it on, giving you space to make yourself comfortable first and he would follow after.

You took a seat on the bed, first, letting everything soak in—starting with Hyunjae and your interaction at the dock for a short time before the situation with Sangyeon, how you would manage to make it through the rest of the party without more problems whether that be between you and Sangyeon, or Hyunjae.  You watched as Hyunjae’s dark shoes made it into view in front of you as you looked down at the pristine wood flooring covered by an area rug.

The fray of your distressed jeans entertained your hands, picking at it nervously as you took a few deep breaths. There was an almost silent noise that came from him as he stuck his hands in his pockets, rolling his shoulders a bit before letting out a rickety exhale. He wasn’t sure what to say at the moment; between Sangyeon, Hyunjae’s blow up at the dock, the kind of bad terms you were on with each other.

“May I see your face?” he asked. He hadn’t seen it since the begging look in your eyes and he wanted to wash that away from his memory. Slowly, you raised your head to look up at him, but he wasn’t sure it was any better. The tears were cropped up against your waterline, tears you were desperately trying to fight off as your shaky fingers continued to pluck the threads on your jeans.

His jaw fell open, so many words queued at the front of his throat but none of them felt good enough to soothe the look on your face as you looked up at him, but also looked around him. Trying to decide if staying there or if reaching for you was the better option, he stood there with his fingers furled in his pockets. A few emotions swirled inside of him, feelings he couldn’t quell; he desperately wanted to avoid you once arriving, but the look on your face pressed firmly against his heart because he still cared deeply for you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, “I didn’t expect it, him, any of it. I told Kevin, he said it would be taken care of and—”

Hyunjae gathered you into the warmth of his chest, wrapping both arms tightly around you to provide you some semblance of safety as he sat to your side on the bed.

“You do not have to apologize to me; I only wish I could have helped you sooner,” he reminded you, rocking with you a little bit before he sat more squarely on the bed and tugged you to hold you more firmly, more steadily, more securely. You hid your face against his neck, and the tightening in his throat at the feel of your warm tears against his skin was incomparable.

“I’ll have a word with Kev—”

“Please don’t,” you begged. “This was supposed to be a party for you and I don’t want it to be ruined because of me, because of Sangyeon; I should have never come, I knew it was a mistake, that there was no way it could be assured,” you explained, somehow finding your way to your feet after pushing away from him.

“Don’t…” he pleaded, reaching out to take your hand as he looked up to you now as you stood before him. “Don’t say that. I’m happy you came.” He was playing with your fingers at this point, not minding that you were looking down at that instead of at him.  

“It will be getting dark soon and there will be tons of lights all over the backyard if you’ll accompany me to play some games,” he reminded you. Kevin had hosted many parties in the past with decorations just the same—twinkling multicolored lights hanging everywhere he could get them and then some to really set the mood. Hyunjae had clearly remembered how awed you were by the lights at night from the last parties you’d come to, and that in and off itself set a few butterflies free in your stomach. You looked up to him, meeting his eyes which looked at you so tenderly. It was a tough spot to be in considering, but he wasn’t about to send you back out there knowing uncertainly that Sangyeon was still looming around and would no doubt continue to cause problems if you were on your own.

He waited for your gentle nod before taking your hand fully, cupped flush against his as he guided you out of the bedroom, and shut the light off behind him to take you out to the backyard where everyone was playing games and mingling. Some conversation fell quiet as they watched you pass, others came up to speak with you more openly before he took you to a game you could play standing side by side, and he made a promise to you that he wouldn’t let you out of his sight until he knew Sangyeon was gone.

And thankfully, for both of you, the party passed pretty quickly with a handful of guests bidding farewell to Hyunjae, reiterating that it was good to see him and that he should come back and visit more often because they all missed him—you were not to be forgotten, as they all bid you farewell as well. Some whispers lingered, some sly grins and knowing gazes as they looked at the two of you, seemingly entirely blind to it.

The games had been put away as it got dark out, not even the twinkling fairy lights illuminated the backyard enough to keep the games going, but nobody seemed to mind. The fire pit was lit and a handful of folks sat around it with drinks in hand just letting the conversation flow. You were among those sitting around it, listening to the stories being shared, some about Hyunjae, but others just reminiscing about your high school times and how much some of them missed the simplicity of life back then. Sangyeon, from what you understood, had been long gone, so you felt comfortable sitting by yourself without Hyunjae’s watchful gaze as he fixed you both a drink in the kitchen before emerging with a plastic cup which was put into your line of sight in no time. You took it, looking up at him, but after his hand was emptied it continued to linger. He motioned his head out to the depths of the backyard where more lights were strung about the garden and it would give you some quiet time. Daintily, you placed your hand in his and let him lift you from the lawn chair—there was a missed beat in the conversation for a moment, but continued quickly to try and not look suspicious.

Hyunjae guided you to the exact spot at the foot of a large tree that was upending the wall that housed the backyard and disturbed some other brickwork of the nearby flower garden, but he knew a good spot where the roots dodged just enough for a plush place to sit and placed himself in it first.  You looked at him, skeptical for a minute. There was a choice of where to sit, and he looked at you with no expectations that it would be like old times, so he was a tad surprised when you planted your knees in the grass in front of him and handed over your drink for a second to situate yourself, turning and placing yourself in front of him, between the cage of his legs that bent around you, and gently leaned back into the warmth of his body before collecting your drink.

“You didn’t have—”

“I could use some familiar safety right now,” you interrupted quickly, knowing exactly what he was going to say. Besides, he brought you out there for some peace which typically came from safety and you made the choice on your own.

Hyunjae hummed and leaned back against the trunk of the tree to slouch you a little deeper. Your head rested against his shoulder as you enjoyed the coolness of the evening air, the gentle sounds of crickets and other nightlife, the glow of the galaxy beyond, and the twinkling lights in the gardens around. The only unnatural sounds were that of ice melting in your cups, disturbing your drinks when the structure changed, and the way the cups sounded being moved around. It was quiet, and for the most part, you preferred it that way, but you knew another inevitable question was coming.

“You don’t have to tell me because quite frankly it’s none of my business, but what’s your history with Sangyeon?” he finally asked you. Your cup crinkled in your hand, flimsy under your grasp for only a moment while your other hand plucked a handful of blades of grass from the ground with some quiet pops. He didn’t want to make it too obvious that he didn’t like the idea of you and Sangyeon for reasons he could go on about.

“Long story short, we got together for… reasons… albeit not good ones, and he turned out to be entirely as controlling as you witnessed. I broke it off, he didn’t like it, and heard about this party and knew I’d be here… for you…”

“You should have told me,” he whispered, his voice right above your ear and you could feel the way his jaw shifted against the side of your head.

“We weren’t exactly on great terms,” you reminded him, noting the distress of his jeans against the knee, and mindlessly to distract yourself, you fiddled with the loose strands that were fraying, easy to reach with his knees bent to enclose you. “Besides, I heard there was a chance you wouldn’t show anyway. We all kind of determined that you intentionally hadn’t visited. Not that we thought you hated us, just that you wanted to move on.”

There was a tightening around Hyunjae’s heart he hated as you spoke those words. Hearing you say it hurt in a different way than him coming to grips with it himself. His legs couldn’t help but close on you a bit, a frustrated grunt squeaking from his mouth. Not here, he thought, not now. This was not the best place to be having that conversation, but little did you know that was the conversation.

“I owe you all an explanation, truly,” he said.

“You don’t, really. You have your reasons for doing things that are your own. You don’t owe anyone anything,” you said.

“I owe it to myself, then,” he retorted, “and I want to start with you. But that’s part of the big conversation and while I know you have granted me gracious time to collect my thoughts… it’s a conversation I’d rather have without prying ears as it only concerns you and me without the speculation of anyone else.”

“Hyunjae…” you trailed off, turning your head to fight against his, fluttering at the feel of the corner of his mouth and nose against your forehead. His eyes clenched tightly, once again trying to fight off the feelings, the thoughts, trying not to repeat the day on the dock. To steel his nerves, he turned to the side and took a large swig of his drink, feeling your hand wrap against the outside of his knee to tug it against your body. If it was one thing about Hyunjae you were really in tune with, it was his emotions—you tended to feel how he felt, to understand without him having to say much—and it held true even with six years apart.

“I don’t want you to feel rushed and I won’t force the conversation, but I know you want to say a lot of things, so when you’re ready…” you uttered, nuzzling your chin under his jaw. You were pushing, unintentionally, at the seams of his packaged distress. He was doing his absolute best to be there, to be the open and comforting Hyunjae he always was to you, and that was his ultimate demise. The very concept of Sangyeon put a pit in his stomach, and it didn’t even have to be Sangyeon, it just had to be anyone that wasn’t him. But how was he supposed to tell you everything? About why he left, about the things, the feelings, he wanted to leave behind without seeming insulting to you; and then how was he to address that those same issues never went away, that seeing you for the first time even after all that time stoked the same fire, if not more so.

But back then he was just a kid, and it felt stupid, all of it. The distance hurt like hell, but after a bit it became refreshing. Each year got easier to not come back; but he missed his friends, he missed his family, he missed you, but he didn’t miss the way he bit his tongue, the way he stowed his feelings, the way he’d dare not ruin the amazing friendship you had over what he called selfishness. He wanted you to be free without his burden, which ultimately started driving his choice to leave.

He never changed; he could still feel the tip of his tongue clamped between his teeth, still feel the churning in his stomach with the attempt to put his feelings away, the lump in his throat which felt like a swollen version of his heart, a hole in his chest which the alcohol wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“I think it’s about time we head home,” Hyunjae commented after a few moments of tense silence. You were trying to understand the emotions you were feeling via Hyunjae, the way he was feeling, the sudden tenseness of his body, the closed-off disposition. “I’ll walk you,” he added, a lulled whisper in your ear.

You both made your way to your feet, discarding your cups in the kitchen after bidding everyone goodnight and thanking Kevin for the hospitality. You all lived close, the same homes from the district which put you in close walking distance. Hyunjae offered his elbow to you the way he always did, and the both of you meandered rather slowly to your home where he could drop you off. You wrapped both hands around his bicep, a million thoughts running through both of your heads, putting you in seemingly different worlds than each other while walking right next to one another.  

Needless to say, the two of you arrived at your front porch far sooner than either of you were ready. Hyunjae took your hand to help you up the step onto your landing, but the lingering way he gazed at you let you know that he was feeling the same way; that for some reason you weren’t quite ready to leave now that you were really alone. But it was already late, had to have been past midnight, and lingering on your landing could look suspicious.

Still, you turned to look at him, not so much at his face, but at his throat, at the undone button of his black shirt, at the way his throat shifted as he swallowed hard. His thumbs were hooked in his pockets as he stood as attentive as he could muster, waiting for you like he always did. You, on the other hand, fiddled with the hem of your shirt as you thought of what to say, what to do, if it would be best to just say goodnight and be on your way, or if you had something more to say.

Your gaze finally landed on his face, looking over his features. He must have been able to feel your gaze, because slowly his eyes flittered up to meet yours, glimmering in the dim porch light. With you up on the landing, the two of you were closer to the same height—you smiled, remembering how much he’d matured since you last saw him.  It seemed like the only thing that could roll off your tongue was his name, so almost silently it did so once more. You watched his gaze shift between your eyes, his feet shuffled forward to bring himself closer to the landing. Slowly, your hands came up; an innate desire to put them against him had you placing them gently on his shoulders. His breath shuttered against your face, jaw tightening as your brow furrowed a bit.

He was so close to you, your arms were entirely folded at the elbow, you could practically feel the warmth radiate off him, his face had to be no further than a couple of inches now that his eyes were peering slightly down at you and still glimmered like the galaxy captive. It took a second for you to realize that his face was sinking closer to yours, that his head tentatively tilted just as his nose brushed against yours. You took a deep breath, fingers anticipatorily furling against his shoulders as his lips fleetingly brushed yours. He waited a moment for you to object, one of his hands freeing itself from his pocket to place tenderly against your hip while your breath was caught in your throat, but when you did not attempt to move away or verbally object, he leaned in further.

It took only a second for you to fall entirely into his grasp, feet shuffling forward just a tad as he slipped his hand around your back to put your body against his; your arms slid around his neck especially as he stepped up onto the landing, and guided you backward to gingerly press you up against your front door with a few readjustments. You couldn’t quite place the mix of flavors you were tasting, but it was clouding your better judgment—many factors were in play between the kiss, the way his fingers pressed into your lower back, the way he had you arching against him, the Sangyeon panic, the alcohol, the distance, which all made the experience surreal. But you couldn’t deny the way your chest was exploding, the way your nerves were all on end, the way it felt so right after so many years.

You almost sighed, the way his tongue flicked against your bottom lip before your subconscious was pinging on the Sangyeon panic, and your arms retreated from his neck to weakly push against his shoulders. He tugged away, the tender sounds of a broken kiss ringing in your ears like a train whistle before those same warm lips were pressing soft kisses against your jaw, and only after a successful few did you find any words to push from your throat.

“Maybe don’t,” you uttered, more as a sigh as your head tilted back to quietly hit your door, “my breakup is still fresh, and we still need to talk.”

Your voice was a whisper of the wind, but still enough for him to ease off, to pull back and press his forehead against yours after noticing your eyes were closed. His hands tugged your hips into his since your hands were still flittering somewhat across the nape of his neck. Your tongue darted out to flick across your lips, remnants of rum and coke lingered before he took a whole step away from you, and that meant the protective grasp of his hands against your hips was gone as well.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered, “I’m sure I’ve been sending you strong signals all night, and when you stepped in and… your safety and your scent and your touch and charm…”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to come back,” he muttered under his breath, looking up at the cracking paint of your porch covering. He hoped it wasn’t loud enough for you to hear, but unfortunately, it was. You looked at him, queueing a couple of replies in your throat that never seemed to fit the situation and adequately explain how you felt at the same time. You waited only long enough for his gaze to cast back down to you, almost expecting you to say something, but you had twisted the knob to your door and disappeared into the darkness of your home without another word. Could you say it was the best decision? Perhaps not. But in that moment you feared that you would say something that would damage an already delicate situation. If you had just left it at the bit about the breakup and about needing to talk, he would have understood. Everything else just confirmed his fears about you; that you liked the idea of him.  He shook his head and turned to head home, ignoring the prying questions of his sister who was surprisingly still awake and, without turning a single light on, closed the door to his room and crawled into bed.

__

Hyunjae was quiet for subsequent days—too quiet, really, and under the prying and watchful eyes of his sister to look for anything to start a conversation about. Hyunjae was a brick wall. As stoic as anyone could be, almost emotionless, and that, in and of itself, was enough to break the ice about it.

“What’s turned you into a zombie?” she asked, closing the door behind her as she entered Hyunjae’s room. He was reading on the bed, but maybe he couldn’t even call it reading; it was more like his eyes were scanning the same ten sentences a hundred times, never once comprehending what any of it said only to start over from square one again. His brain was scattered, the was no arguing that. But while he thought that his scattered brain would provide him with at least some thought about how to handle the situation, there was no such luck for that either. He had become zombie-like between the lack of emotion and disregarding actions.

His eyes shifted over to her—he looked tired; dark circles around his somewhat reddened eyes, but maybe that was for a reason yet to be clear. He took a deep breath, closed his book, and turned to her.

“The same reason I left in the first place,” he replied, not anticipating that she would have an immediate response—she didn’t. She wasn’t confused, she had a pretty good idea why he left even though she never pressured him to say; he had to do what he had to do for himself and no one would stand in the way of that.

“Should I tell her you’re napping, then?” she finally said.

Those few words dropped on Hyunjae like a bomb. The gears ground in his head for a moment, trying to comprehend how incredibly dire the situation was seemingly suddenly. He blinked a couple of times.

“What?” he asked.

“Did I stutter? Do you want me to ask her to leave? She’s having tea with mom downstairs, I said I would come see if you were available since apparently you haven’t been answering your phone.”

He looked over at the device on his bed, remembering the decision he made right before he closed his eyes for the night to block your number. His heart simply couldn’t bear dealing with anything you had to say, if you did even dare attempt to contact him.

A deep sigh fell between his lips as he stared past his phone and at an undesignated imagined hole in the wall. He all but slapped his book down on his bed and dropped his face into his hands, running his fingers deep in his hair just to tug at it.

“Are you serious,” he growled. Was it not enough, what happened? Was it not clear enough that he wanted to just disappear back into the night like he had never shown back up in the first place?

“Whatever problem you’re having with her, you need to solve it before you leave again, if that’s what you decide to do. If that means closing that book, then do it; but leaving it open is only going to hurt more,” she advised, reaching over to take one of his hands after it fell slack at his side. He looked over at her, but he could tell by the look on her face that she was serious. Not closing the back cover left the wounds wide open and he had already experienced once just how painful that could be.

There was a knock on the door, followed by his mother’s voice, and before he even had time to object the door was being pushed open, and there you stood, looking like you’d slept as much if not less than himself.

Hyunjae let out a disappointed and frustrated sigh as he rolled his eyes away, his sister gave a displeased growl while you looked directly at him. Although Hyunjae’s sister harbored no ill will towards you, she cared immensely for Hyunjae which made the situation that much harder. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, but she also didn’t know the whole story, just that it was about you as so many things had been in the past. She stood and turned to Hyunjae for a moment.

“Do what’s best for you,” she reminded him, glanced at you, and side-stepped you to bring her mother away from the situation.

“Great,” Hyunjae growled sarcastically as he turned to sit on the side of his bed and meet your gaze to the best of his ability. Slowly you stepped in, closing the door behind you. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into a blowout, but you knew things were rough between the two of you, and you could tell he was suffering just as much as you were about the entire thing.

“Hyunjae,” you greeted, not pleasantly nor firmly. He could see the quiver in your jaw just saying his name, but that didn’t stave off his fiery feelings in the slightest.

He muttered your name back, a greeting somewhat in return.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me—”

“Then why are you here?” he asked, almost barked.

You sighed, slinking against his door. Hyunjae tended to get rough when he was wounded, like a cornered dog who had no choice but to bite back.

“Because I gave you as much time as I could but it obviously can’t wait anymore,” you replied, trying to force confidence into your voice. You needed to stand your ground with him, even if you were never particularly good at doing so.

“You’re right, I don’t want to talk to you. Not only that, but I don’t think there’s anything to talk about anymore. So, sorry you came all the way here for nothing, but I don’t have anything left to offer you,” he snapped, standing from his bed and approached the door, and you, and reached out in an attempt to tug it open.

You pressed against it harder, forcing against his pull to keep the door closed. He scoffed and looked to your face containing the most determined look you could muster since you had arrived. You glared up at him and growled his name.

“You’re pissed at me, and you have every right to be. But we spent many years being the closest of friends, and whenever we had a spat, we always worked it out. And even if things are a bit rocky right now, and it looks like I’m not your friend, I’m at least here as someone who cares so deeply about you—in whatever way you want to interpret that—to try and work through this with you, the way he always have,” you almost pleaded, but with a conviction that made it sound more like a statement for the first time since you’d arrived.

“I know you’re hurting, and I know I’m the cause of that. But to think that I’m here for any other reason than to try and make it right…” you trailed off with the shake of your head, gaze trailing away from his for only a moment, “you know me better than that. And if I know anything about you, you left for a reason, so let’s start there.”

“What is this, freakin’ honesty hour?” he asked, taking a step away from the door, almost attempting to convince you that this was ridiculous, but your reply jarred him.

“Yes, it is, that’s the whole purpose of trying to solve something, being transparent.”

“You want me to be transparent?” he almost roared.

“I want us both to be transparent, Hyunjae,” you fired back, although quite a bit calmer than him.

He paced for a moment, trying to figure out how he was going to approach this—the best way didn’t matter to him, he just wanted to express his feelings at the expense of anyone else’s feelings, because everything to that point had been at the expense of his. You stayed pressed up against his room door, watching him pace, watching him think, watching the frustration build on his face until he finally got some words out.

“The other night,” he started, pausing his pacing to look at you, “when you just let me fall into a bear trap…” He laughed, but it wasn’t because it was funny—his brow was furrowed in disbelief as he looked at you, a hurt on his face you’d never seen before. “I left because I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You swallowed hard, having a good idea what he was talking about already, but you still wanted him to say it out loud—you still wanted to have a conversation.

“Couldn’t take what, Hyunjae?” you asked delicately.

“You,” he replied, jaw clenching for a moment, fists following before he took a deep breath himself. “The way we were. How… connected we were. How open and honest and upfront we were, how deep we were,” he explained, or tried.

“And the other night is related because?”

He bit his tongue, you could see it peek out from behind his teeth before he turned his face away from you, clenching his eyes before his hands found his dresser, holding him up in a sense as he leaned into it. A few deep and rickety breaths followed as he composed himself enough to say something.

“It confirmed the fears I struggled with, suffered with, that you only liked the idea of me. Confirmed the fears that you wanted me in theory, and how strained that made my ability to maintain a friendship with you. I left because it seemed easier to forget about the feelings when you weren’t right in my face. I left because I thought it would be easier to move on. You said the other day you sent me strong signals, and you did. They were strong signals; they were wrong signals—”

“They weren’t wrong,” you interrupted, “I was torn between respecting my relationship space with Sangyeon and being elated that you were back and willing to treat me like we’d never skipped a beat,” you tried to explain in return.

He spun to face you, tears already pushed off his face. His heart hurt unbelievably, fiery but in a negative way, squeezing in his chest as he formulated his reply.

“So you think it’s cool to just lead me on? To not only let me but encourage me to kiss you on your front porch and lean into it like you welcomed it, just to hit me with all that shit about my safety, my scent, my charm and in essentially the same breath tell me that I’ve crossed a line? I’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re just the one I won’t ever get over, but you don’t have to make it so damn hard for me the one time I do decide to come back!”

“Hyunjae—”

“Do not. Do not try to charm me with those pretty little eyes, with the sweet way you say my name—” he growled, unable to finish before you had something to say.

“I’m not!” you retaliated. “I am not trying to get out of what I did! I am not trying to discredit how you feel or play the victim in any way. I know my approach wasn’t great, and I will be the first to admit that. But if we could go back and redo the situation… if you hadn’t kissed me, I probably would have kissed you,” you expressed to him.

“I don’t like the idea of you, Hyunjae. I’ve always liked you. And when you left, it took me a few years to get in the game to try and move on… I got with Sangyeon because it felt, in the beginning, like he understood me. Like he empathized with my loss, which was you, and I had an aching, a pit that needed to be filled that I thought he could fill.  But that pit is shaped exactly like you, and I realized that nothing else will ever fit it properly…”

You tried so hard to maintain your resolve, but the way getting all of that off your chest made you feel in combination with the look on Hyunjae’s face, you weren’t sure how long you would last. You couldn’t tell if he thought you were lying or not.

“What a jerk I’ve been to you,” you continued, “This is why I get so mad about you saying stuff like how mean you’ve been to me; like you think I thought you left without a purpose. I didn’t know, exactly, your purpose at the time, but I knew it was one you needed for yourself. So, why would I think you were a jerk for that? When you didn’t reach out, I saw the signs like freeway billboards—”

“I loved you,” he interjected. “And I was so scared that if I had admitted that to you, that I would lose you, but I ended up losing you anyway because I was too weak to swallow the fact that I did love you. That I do love you. That those six years away did nothing to help me move on,” he replied, pouring it all out for you, finally saying what he needed to say for so many years and a weight lifted off his chest, but it didn’t stop the squeezing feeling.

“I got too worried trying to respect the relationship with a man who never respected me; who took advantage of me knowing I was vulnerable without you; and if I had come to that conclusion on the landing that night… Hyunjae, I may have not let you leave. It was like my favorite coffee on a cold day, like the sun on my skin in the late spring, like the spray of the water on the dock—nothing has ever felt more like home.”

Hyunjae let out a deep sigh, blinking back the tears that pushed at the outer corners of his eyes as he slipped to the floor. His gaze looked out but didn’t find anything in particular, clouded anyway. He took a moment to reflect on the way the hardwood panels felt underneath his fingers, the way breath filled his lungs, the way his eyes stung, the sound of you sliding down to the floor yourself against his room door.

There wasn’t much else that needed to be said, so the two of you sat across the floor from each other in relative silence for quite a few lingering moments. The both of you were trying to regulate your breathing, trying to quench the fire that burned deep down.

It took a moment, but he crawled across the floor of his room to sit up in the corner of the wall and the door and asked for your hand only to coax you over to him, between his legs to rest up against him as he settled his chin on your shoulder. From then, it was a matter of time and healing, and he wanted to spend the initial healing time with you in his arms in the quiet of his room as the both of you processed everything that was said.

All that could be heard throughout the room was perhaps gentle breathing, silently the continued refusal of tears that stung both your eyes. Hyunjae dug his face in the crook of your neck, even if you were turned away from him; he didn’t want you to see it. But even if you couldn’t see it, you could feel the way his rickety breath fell across your shoulder, the way he trembled against your back, the warmth of his tears against your skin and even though things were on the mend, that, in and of itself, stung like hell.

Hyunjae’s pain had always been your pain, and vice versa—his happiness, his burdens, his struggles, his successes and triumphs; they had always been shared because of your dynamic, and it was clear things weren’t about to change. It had always been a love the both of you were too afraid to admit because there was a very real chance it would drive you away from each other.

“I love you, Hyunjae…” you muttered. It was the only reassuring thing you hadn’t said.

His arms tightened around you, fingers digging deeper into the fabric of your shirt that furled in his grasp. There was a mumble into your skin—you didn’t hear him, but you had a decent idea what it consisted of.

It was contemptuous to even consider moving for a bit. Relishing each other’s presence seemed cathartic, to a point; it felt as though as you sat there with each other, after laying it all on the table, that the healing was somewhat fortified. As the time passed, your touches against each other were different, softer in a way, more calculated, and genuine. Millions of things were still running through each other’s minds—even though there was nothing left to say, you both were over thinkers to the core, so that occupied most of the silence between you. At least, until there was a knock on Hyunjae’s door. He hadn’t realized the time, or how much time had passed, but he helped you to your feet before tugging the door open to reveal his sister.

“We’re getting ready for dinner, you’re welcome to stay…” she hesitated, noting the look on both your faces. Your eyes were noticeably still red and swollen—you never had a quick recovery after crying, even if it was somewhat tame. Hyunjae was still pushing at his own tears, too.

“Thank you, but I should get going,” you replied, a sad smile on your face as you looked to Hyunjae who understood that not only would it be incredibly awkward, but that you both probably needed some time alone with your thoughts. He nodded encouragingly, agreeing with your conclusion before he began ushering you through his door. After following his sister down the stairs, you quietly greeted both of their parents, thanked them for the offer for dinner, and had Hyunjae show you out.

“I’ll walk you,” he asserted, but you quickly shook your head.

“Your dinner is hot, you should stay; it’s still light, I’ll be okay on my own,” you replied as you turned to face him, to look up into his somewhat swollen eyes, to catch the fleeting tremble of his lip as he looked back at you. Before he could nod in reluctant agreement, you reached out to take his hand and gently squeeze it. You used that hand to pull him closer to you, the half a step distance you needed to stand high on your toes to press a soft kiss against his cheek; it was sticky but you didn’t care. His eyes fell closed as you lingered there for a moment then you drifted back to the flats of your feet, gave his hand another squeeze, stepped off the landing of his house, and turned down the street. A few trickling moments passed before his sister collected him at the door, encouraging him back inside to try and eat something even if he wasn’t hungry. Surely, he would hear from you soon enough.

It was a weird type of limbo to be in, unknowing when it was appropriate to contact the other, and sheepishly waiting around for the other to do the dirty work. This inevitably led to another few days of silence, but that didn’t stop you from calling up Younghoon—your new closest friend since your falling out with Hyunjae—to ask for his advice, since he never seemed to give it unsolicited.

Nervously, you turned your iced coffee between your hands as you sat across the café table from him. Patiently, he continued to wait for you, never forcing a word out of you or a move of any kind. When you had called him up saying that you wanted to talk to him about Hyunjae, especially considering the look he gave you at Kevin’s party after Hyunjae had helped you out of a precarious situation, he was eager to meet with you—not because he had dirt or anything to spill, but because he knew, somewhere in there, you agonized over Hyunjae; sometimes in unhealthy ways. You had always been friends with Younghoon, so he was the natural next best to Hyunjae; expressly since he’d watched your friendship at its peak and watched the way it splintered into nothing—admittedly, he was the only one with your actual best interest in mind, particularly when you concluded that Hyunjae’s absence crushed you in ways you couldn’t explain initially.

“Sorry,” you muttered, a rickety diffident to your voice with another shaky exhale.

“I’m in no rush, you know I’m here for you,” he replied. “Why don’t we start with this; you mumbled hurriedly over the phone about how things had been solved, and then unsolved,” he prompted, giving you somewhere to jump off from since it appeared you were having a hard time finding somewhere to start.

A tough swallow broke down your throat as you thought about the instance in which he reached for your arm and asked if you were okay, your hand laced with Hyunjae’s.

“About that—he caught Sangyeon being… well, Sangyeon,” you answered. Part of you figured Younghoon would be offended you didn’t tell him about the incident with Sangyeon, and you honestly weren’t even positive he’d been seen by Younghoon or Kevin for that matter.

Younghoon’s eyes perked a little bit; the situation was a little different now that he knew you had been in Sangyeon’s clutches only to be rescued by Hyunjae. It seemed right, in all fairness.

“We’d fought a couple of days before—not really a fight, a small disagreement, and weren’t on the best of terms. It was a weird situation that went from bad to good to bad all in one evening…” You had to trail off, thinking about the events as they replayed in your mind. But it was salvaged now, right? You blew off your steam with each other and found a ground with equal footing, but things were still awkward.

“The point is, I’m here because we finally had a talk, and while it wasn’t really talking and more like yelling at each other and then breaking down into mutually pathetic messes, I came to ask you what you think is the best way to approach him now. We haven’t talked in a couple of days, I think we’re both kind of hinging on the other being the first to reach out for contact,” you explained.

Younghoon sat in contemplation for a moment. There was no correct answer to your question, and he couldn’t even say there was one approach that was better than the other. Even something as simple as texting him to ask how he was doing could be enough to open the door, so he didn’t take long to come up with that to say to you.

“I suppose you think it’s weird to just text him to ask how he is.” Apparently, the situation was a little more complicated in your eyes than he initially thought.

“I had six years to do that,” you replied, your plastic cup crinkling under the pressure of your fingers furling against it.

“Of course,” he answered, understanding the situation a little better. “To be completely honest with you, you both have overcome a lot already, if you consider. Between the frontages, the distance, the coming back together, and all the drama that came with all that, you both have managed to sort something positive out, right? I’m sure there’s nothing you could say that would have a negative impact short of telling him you wish he’d leave again, and I doubt you’re going to say that.”

A slight laugh escaped from your throat, but it could have been mistaken as a scoff just as much. It was ridiculous for Younghoon to even suggest that, because he was completely right—only if you became possessed would you consider saying that to him.

“I know it feels like a delicate situation, but I’m positive it’s far less delicate than screaming at him in the middle of his bedroom about how dumb you both were being after re-shattering his still splintered heart.”

“Ouch,” you responded, even if it was true, and it was never like Younghoon to pull punches when you needed to hear something. And he had always known of Hyunjae’s feelings for you, so that didn’t make this conversation any less brutal.

“Also, I’m not saying it will be instantaneous, but I’m also certain that deep in there he’s elated to have you back, too, and in the state he’d battled with himself about for some time. You might be best off asking to meet on neutral turf so there’s no awkward looming—I know how nosey Hyunjae’s sister can be,” Younghoon laughed and took a swig of his coffee, relaxing back into his chair which, inevitable, had you relaxing back into yours, letting his words sink in as you picked up your phone to type a message to Hyunjae about meeting up the next day.

--

The late evening sun glimmered off the water, stretching left and right as far as you could see. The soft ripples of the water catching the light to produce a river of diamonds while your legs hung off the edge of the dock. Your phone was tucked deep in your pocket, an unread message about Hyunjae being on his way to meet you sat in your notifications bar. There was an unexplainable tightening in your chest, but maybe it was just because it was the first time you were getting to see him after the tipping point.  An unreasonable voice called from the back of your mind to back out; that it had already been a rough time with him, maybe it was better to just let it go—a voice you had to really try to push away.  

Another rigid breath—how many had come in the last few days, you would have a hard time counting—as you steeled your nerves, clutching the edge of the dock as you tried to wait patiently, at least until a small cup jingled with ice from the side of your face. Hesitantly, you looked over and slowly followed the arm up to a familiar face. He smiled delicately, his lips barely tugging at the corners to produce it, but it was detectable by your trained eyes.

“Hi,” he almost whispered as you faltered a bit in taking the flavored iced tea from him; it was a little late in the evening to be having coffee—not that it had ever stopped you in the past. He took a seat next to you, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the dock next to yours. To say that he was sitting comfortably close was an understatement; his hip was effectively pressed up next to yours, just like old times, but there was a new sense of comfort that washed over you from the fact, even if the nerves were bundling in your throat.

“Hi,” you choked back, eyes never breaking their contact with his being even when he settled. “I’m going to apologize in advance if this is extremely awkward.”

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing to you,” he laughed, looking out over the water to notice the same sea of diamonds you’d been entertaining yourself with since you took a place on the dock yourself. “Can’t say I’ve been through this before, so it’s definitely new and rocky terrain.”

“You seem jovial, nonetheless,” you replied.

“One of us has to try to keep a good spirit,” he joked, elbowing you in the side, reminding you that you weren’t exactly the mood-maker of your duo, before he took a swig of his tea. You followed suit, uttering your gratitude, before forcing a bit of confidence into your bones. All of the times you’d sat on the dock with him in the past in this very setting came rushing back to your immediate memory, and with it, all the times you’d begged to loop your arm around his. So, with a bit of hesitancy, you moved your tea to your hand opposite of him and swiftly stuck your hand under the crevice between his arm and torso to wrap your hand around his bicep, additionally leaning your head against his shoulder to avoid the imminent gaze that would no doubt scout your embarrassed features in half a second flat. Hyunjae did, in fact, turn to look, a more noticeable smile tugging at his face as he pulled that arm tighter to his body, acknowledging your courageous display of affection, and gave you the satisfaction of relishing it without some signature sassy remark from him as he leaned his head against yours.

The way you clenched your hand against his bicep was indicative of looking for something to say, scrapping any ideas you had in your head a handful of times. He knew you weren’t the best with words, especially after having a fight—that’s what he’d call it, because it kind of was—but that didn’t stop him from waiting for you to say anything. Instead, you opted to nudge your head up a little bit, wedging it between his head and shoulder a little further before a somewhat exasperated noise slipped from between your lips.

Hyunjae discarded his tea gently against the finished dock, turning his full attention to you. His slender fingers gently prodded against your jaw, prompting you to lift your head from his shoulder. It was always like him to take control of the situation, and to be completely honest, you had banked on that for this entire meeting. You were pleased to look at him per his will, tilting your chin up so that his face could slip by yours and press a lingering kiss against your cheek, the way you had to his at the end of your last meeting. Perhaps the most important meeting.

Again, you wanted to speak with nothing really to say. Your eyes fluttered at the feel of his supple lips against your cheek and remained closed when his delicate fingers flittered away from your jaw and his hand cupped against the back of your neck, craning up only slightly to place another kiss against your forehead, and another against your cheek—you had to chuckle, nervously nipping at your bottom lip as you tried to read his intentions.

“Just let me marinate in the fact that I have dreamed about this for eight years, and I’m finally here,” he mumbled against your skin, knowing that you were laughing at him.

“I’m laughing at you because you keep missing,” you replied, eyes fluttering open to meet his as he pulled back. The gentle smiles fell from both your faces as your gaze teetered between each other’s eyes, noting their glimmer, their depth, the absolutely homey look you gave each other. Your breaths mingled just a few inches from each other between the two of you before you noted the way his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips—in nervousness or preparation, you couldn’t tell. When he noticed the way your eyes fell past his nose, he couldn’t help but speak up.

“Is that so?” he asked nearly inaudibly.

“As a matter of fact…” you trailed off, anticipating the way one of his hands reached across you to help you settle your tea against the dock so you could place that hand wherever you’d like as his mouth descended on yours, delicately eclipsing yours in a softly meshed kiss that felt worlds different from the one on the landing of your home after Kevin’s party. It felt like a plug had been pulled, and all the tension that culminated between the two of you was swirling away into the abyss as you melted into his touch, gingerly cupping your cheek until his lips broke away. A silent protest came in the form of an exasperated exhale, that shy smile returning to your lips noting he hadn’t pulled far enough away to be out of reach, so you took it upon yourself to lean in for another quick peck.

“Somewhere deep in the back of my mind,” he began, waiting for a moment for your eyes to open so he could look into them once more, “I had always hoped I would get to kiss you on this very dock with the sun going down and glimmering against the water, exactly the way it is.”

You placed your hand down over his, which was pinning you somewhat against the dock as he rotated to face you. The look on your face was enough, he didn’t really need a reply; everything that needed to be said had already been said. Even still, you had something for him.

“Me, too,” you replied, leaning up to nuzzle your nose against his for just a moment, “so, I’m glad you came back to figure it out. I needed you more than anything.”

Hyunjae chuckled; the thoughts he had been battling with for so long about why he was returning all suddenly made sense, like a message in the stars, a secret nudge from the universe telling him there would be something special about him coming back, pushing through the dread he had cut with your hometown. He remembered letting it marinade for a week after the idea first crossed his mind. Maybe he was feeling homesick, admittedly he missed his parents and his sister, but he could tell there was something more.

“Something in the vast infinity delivered your call,” he whispered to you.

“I owe whatever mystical message that led you back to me a great debt.”

“Why don’t you just say you missed me?” he teased.

“The way I missed you is beyond anything I could string together with words, Hyunjae,” you replied, pushing him back a little bit to put him physically on the defensive for only a second before he took the opportunity to pull you across his lap so he could have you as close as possible.

“And showing you feels a little more vulnerable; maybe we needed that all along, instead of putting on that tough face for each other,” you told him, your smile saying something different as your hand gingerly stroked through the tresses of hair on the back of his neck, tilting his head to look at you before your foreheads met, eyes fluttered closed once more.

A moment relishing this closeness was much needed and long-awaited.  

[kuuras]

hi! if I can ask, how was your 2021? not to sound creepy haha but I noticed your posts are mostly queued so must've been a busy one. have a great 2022!

Hello, dearie~! I'm so sorry for the late reply! I really appreciate you taking the time to message me!

Anyway, my 2021 was truly interesting and enlightening a year of discovery and growth for me as a person. During the beginning of the year I realized that I was not happy with a lot of aspects of my life. I was very unmotivated to be creative on this site since so much has changed over the years and not exactly for the better either. I continuously had very dark and intrusive thoughts about so many things that were causing me a great deal of pain, and I realized that I was on the verge of spiraling down a very chaotic path.

However, I was thankfully willing to realize that I didn't want to keep on living the life that I had at that time and that I needed to make a serious change as soon as possible. and, with that, I started bringing in different forms of positivity and light back into my life!

I am learning to be a much more positive person who tries to see all the wonders, beauty, and love that the world, as well as my own life has to offer even though I know that there is still so much that still needs to be done in the long run.

I started reading books again, and two of the books that really helped me to get in touch with my creativity again are Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert and The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. Both of these books really shed so much light for me on helping me to learn how to fall in love creating again, and I can honestly say that I'm in a much better place as a creator because of them!

Also, I have been writing a lot in a journal, which has also been a helpful outlet for expressing what is on my mind instead of me bottling everything up inside and suffering in silence.

But, ultimately the main reason why a lot of my posts are usually on queue is because my life can get pretty hectic with my job being the main thing that takes up the majority of my time on most days. But, I hope that in due time I will be able to have a more active presence on here once I can get some more balance into my life!

However, despite that I am very happy to say that I am still continuing my journey of healing and recovery, hoping for a brighter and happier future as well. And, I truly do hope for the best for myself, as well as everyone else who also wants to heal themselves and their own lives as well!

Again, thank you so much for messaging me! I really hope that you have an amazing and wonderful 2022 yourself~! 💖

[bluebellhairpin]

Homecoming

Erik Lehnsherr X Mutant!Reader 

A/N: I’m hungry for Erik. I love him. He could impale me with a stop sign and I wouldn’t even mind. So have this long fic that no one asked for! (Also, Reader channels a much healthier path to a Erik ‘Everyone I Love Dies’ Lehnsherr-type situation in this fic. Go Reader.) - Nemo 

Warning(s): Angst. Ugly crying (from me, not the characters). General X-Men antics and Mutant problems. Mentions of Character Death. 

Summary: After the events of Apocalypse, both you and Erik get back something you thought you’d never get to have again. A friend. Maybe even a home.  

Masterlist  

You first came to Charles’ school damaged and broken. 

Like many mutants of your time you were shunned by the world, and hunted by the people in it. You were seen as different, in a time where different was bad. The Difference was dangerous. If you had no way to hide your mutation, you didn’t go into the open. 

Luckily, your mutation wasn’t a physical one, not unless you wanted it to be. 

In a way you were a shapeshifter, a mimic, even if you could only do so with other mutations. 

If you saw someone with wings, you could grow a pair that looked identical. If you saw someone make plants grow, you could too. The only thing was you couldn’t do them both at once. That coupled with an unfortunate circumstance became your undoing. 

The unfortunate circumstance was being caught by one Bolivar Trask.

By the time you managed to get away from him, you’d wished he’d killed you like he had with all those other mutants he got his grubby fingers on. 

You’d reached the streets, aching all over, and feeling as vulnerable as ever. You knew no one, and you had nowhere to go. So you added ‘hopeless’ onto your list of feelings for your first night back in the world.

That morning you found out not all the humans in the world wanted mutants dead. 

Even though he said he was only human, you were convinced he was just being modest - he was surely an angel. He was so kind, taking care of you until you could fend for yourself, and eventually you grew strong enough to be able to protect him too. Him and the little girl you’d brought into the world. 

But you were wrong.

While you were not the same woman you were before Trask had you, you still could only mimic one mutation at a time. Remembering back, you were so confused. It happened so fast. You didn’t know if it was you or the men who found you, but you did know that both him and your girl were dead. You also knew it was easier to blame yourself. It was easier to run.

So you ran. 

Years later, your running lead you to a school - housing a couple dozen other mutants, mostly teenagers - and that’s where you stopped running. 

__________

“Charles, you sure you don’t need any sunscreen?” your lips quirked up, eyeing the seated professor out the corner of your eye.

He didn’t look too impressed.

“(y/n), don’t start now.”

“Or a hat?” you asked, striding over to his side as you leant down and ran a hand over his - now very bald - head. “Don’t want you getting sunburn.”

“I ought to snap those sunglasses right off your face (y/n).” he quipped, swatting your hand away. He was acting all sour about it, but that glint in his eye definitely didn’t make his smile less convincing. 

“Just the sunglasses?” a new voice piqued, followed soon by the voice’s owner sliding over to Charles’ other side, “If it were me you’d be threatening my livelihood instead of some accessory.” 

“I’m special.” you said, sticking your nose up at Erik. 

“You can say that again.”

“Oh quit mumbling Erik.” Charles said, rolling back into the rebuilt mansion - and out of the sun - queuing the both of you to follow close behind. “You could do something useful with those words of yours, like (y/n) does.”

“Teaching isn’t for me Charles.”

“Oh,” you said, looking over at Erik over your glasses, “And inchoherit sentences are?” 

Erik reached over, sliding the glasses right off your nose, before snapping them shut and placing them in your shirt pocket.

“I think you should learn to keep your trap shut.” he said, coming to a stop beside Charles - who was patiently waiting for you both to quit bickering so the two of them could go visit Raven and Hank in the ‘basement’.

“I doubt that.” you said, grabbing your glasses and popping them back on your face before walking off to supervise some students back outside. “Have fun with the kiddies, kiddos.” 

“Well done Erik,” Charles said, turning back towards the way to the Danger Room, “You’ve just met and she already likes you.”

“That was her liking me?” Erik said, unamused as ever. “I’d hate to see how she acts towards people she doesn’t like.” 

“Surprisingly pleasant. If I had to guess it’s so they leave faster.” 

__________

You didn’t see Erik again for months. 

Charles told you he didn’t want to stick around, and honestly from what you’d seen and heard of him he didn’t seem like the kind of man to stay in once place for no reason. When you did see him again he was back at the school, despite his somewhat dislike for being there. 

He was standing in the open front door, dripping wet from the rain outside, and looked like he was not going to move from that spot until he dried off. Luckily you were there to save him. 

“The hell are you doing?” you asked, running a hand through your messed hair as you made your way down the stairs.

“Making Charles’ floor all wet at some ungodly hour of the morning?” he offered, wiping stray drops of water off his face and onto the floor.

“Don’t make more of a mess Erik.” you said, “Just get to the kitchen and try not to make more mess. I’ll grab towels and some other stuff for you.”

By the time you grabbed an armful of towels and a change of dry clothes, Erik was awkwardly standing in the corner of the kitchen closest to the fridge. He was standing like he just realised how uncomfortable wet clothes are, with his arms held out from his body and his legs apart. 

He noticed you as soon as you came around into the doorway, and held his arms out for one of the towels. You threw one over his head instead, while maneuvering around to peel his jacket off. You could safely assume it was a heavy jacket to begin with, but it being so waterlogged made you wonder how he was even still standing with it on.

“What’re those?” Erik asked, nodding his head to the pile of clothes you left on the counter.

“Clothes. Dry ones.” you said, folding the jacket at arms length and hanging it over the sink. “For you.” He went over to inspect them, holding the shirt in front of him, before bringing it to his chest.

“These are not your clothes.” You looked up at him, and he looked over at you. You just nodded.

“You’re right. Get dry and change.” you said. “I’ll go get Charles.” 

__________

Erik hung around for a while after that. And by ‘a while’, this time that meant a number of days. 

You’d pass in the hallways, or he’d walk past your classroom door. You’d meet each other outside during breaks, or back in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning when the world was still sleeping. Not much transpired between you both except small talk. It was never heavy stuff. 

At least not until some rather unsavory people came to the school.

They didn’t stay for long - thankfully - and with not only your help but that of Erik and a couple older resident mutants, those that wanted to hurt you were scared off. That was the first time Erik saw exactly what your mutation was. What exactly it meant.

The people came armed, a small group of mutants that didn’t seem to like what Charles was doing. They would ‘set free’ all the children he’d ‘taken’ and put them ‘back into the world’. As if they’d survive that long without hating themselves. 

The mutants had elemental-like powers, one with the ability to produce ice shards, while another could breathe fire, another could take hold of the plants that surrounded the school, and the last caused the sky to darken and the earth below you to rumble like you’d never heard before.

And then there was your team - your X-Men - ready to fight them, even though half of you had woken up less than five minutes ago.

Erik couldn’t believe what he saw - what you could do. 

There was the ice mutant, conjuring pointed icicles out of nowhere and throwing them at your team, and yet you were right up there - toe to toe with them, matching their deadly projectiles with your own, posing as much of a threat to them as they were to you. 

And as soon as rock and metal joined play, even more followed, you trading weapons the size of your hand to ones that make cars look like a childrens toy. 

All because of you, half of the team didn’t even need to batter and eye at these ill-intended visitors. And those ‘visitors’ decided to leave, whimpering with the promise to not come back - at least not until they thought they were stronger. 

In short, Erik was impressed. 

__________

“You know, I don’t usually let others join me up here.” you said, feeling Erik make his way to the rooftop behind you, “It’s my space.”

“Your’s now, maybe. But I’m sure there are at least half a dozen students who come here for the same thing.” he replied, coming to rest next to you, his legs dangling off the rooftop to mirror your own.  

“I don’t blame them.” 

It was true. While there wasn’t much to see from the roof of the school, on nights like this there was plenty to see. The sunset was disappearing under the horizon, painting the sky with a bright orange and pale lavender, leaving space for the stars to come out to play. It was beautiful.

“I’m leaving soon,” he spoke, voice soft and his eyes not meeting yours, “An island called Genosha. You’d be welcome to come with me, or even just to drop in for a holiday.” 

You cracked a smile at that. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” he said, looking at you, smiling. 

“Sounds like it could be a home away from home.” You bumped your shoulder with his, keeping something pleasant even though he was leaving. Even though this was him saying goodbye.

“For you,” he said, eye twinkling, “(y/n) I’d make it nothing less than home.”

[gellavonhamster]

Dracula modern!AU in which a huge part of the novel is comprised of the characters’ posts on various social media:

Jonathan starts a blog shortly before departing on his trip to Transylvania to document his journey - mostly for Mina and himself, but he gains a number of followers thanks to his enthusiastic posts, picturesque photos of Romania, and local recipes. Soon after he makes a post about strange happenings at the Castle Dracula, his laptop mysteriously breaks and his phone mysteriously disappears, so he converts his planner into a paper diary kept in shorthand.

Mina runs a book blog on Tumblr, which turns increasingly more personal as she starts worrying more about Jonathan and Lucy - writing her thoughts down helps her organize them, and a blog is a familiar space, so why not? As time passes, there are more and more personal posts under read more, until they suddently stop and it’s just queued literature/fandom posts, which eventually stop as well.

Lucy is active on many kinds of social media but all her really personal stuff goes into a paper diary kept in a beautiful little notebook because she thinks the idea of a paper diary cute and romantic. She takes choosing a perfect notebook for her diary Very Seriously. 

Seward has a public Twitter account for following people and reblogging stuff, and a private one that he uses as a diary. When Mina starts working on summarizing everyone’s notes, he has to give her access to it, and she spends a lot of time going through hundreds of his very sad tweets.

The reason why at a certain point Jonathan, Mina, and Jack all stop posting about their lives online (Jonathan continues the diary he started at the castle, and Mina and Jack start paper diaries to document all the events) is that Dracula finds their accounts, and they expect that at some point he’ll stop making extremely conspicuous usernames like @.CountDeVille and they won’t be able to block him at once

Quincey gets to contribute more to the narration, even though most of the things he posts/tweets are not too personal and/or are shitposts to some degree. Arthur still really doesn’t because for the most part he just posts photos of his dogs and from the rich people events he has to attend

Seward inviting Van Helsing to come help with Lucy is typical student-professor communication because Jack isn’t sure he can just call him - it’s been some time since they last talked - so he writes him a very polite e-mail that he rereads several times before sending, and Van Helsing replies in a very casual, sent-from-my-iphone manner (and is very suprised that Friend John would bother writing him when he can obviously call him anytime)

[mca-attack21]

After

A/N: This is the second part of Too Late. 

Peter went back to the tower and received the needed medical attention. His aunt would show up and be so relieved that he was in one piece. She would hold him as he cried and tell him that everything would be okay while silently cursing the world for being so cruel to the young boy who deserved a break. After a while, she would have to leave with Happy to start sorting everything out. Other Avengers would come in and offer Peter their condolences, promising that they would be there for him if he needed anything. Tony practically moved into Peter’s room, not wanting to leave him alone. The worst part came when Y/n’s mother showed up. He expected her to scream at him for killing her daughter. But instead, she just told him how relieved she was that he was okay. She cried, he cried, she explained to him that the funeral would be held a week later and asked that he speak if he was up for it. She reminded him of how much you loved him and told him that he could come by any time. 

Two days later he went back to his Aunt’s apartment. Everywhere he looked he saw you, memories flashing. He remembered the countless movie marathons (and maybe make-out sessions) on the couch. He remembered disasters in the kitchen and the flour fight you had when he discovered you trying to bake his birthday cake last year. He remembered chasing you through the halls, both of you laughing, him kissing you when he caught you in his arms. He slowly made it up to his room trying to keep it together. But, that was honestly pointless. As he opened the door, he saw the multiple shirts he had tried on before your date sprawled across his bed. He pushed them on to the ground and laid down just wanting everything to stop for a minute. But his mind refused him such pleasantries.

Instead, he thought about the nights you had spent studying together. The time that you had discovered he was Spider-Man. He replayed multiple conversations the two of you had had. He remembered the day he asked you out, your first date, the times he went to your house after a particularly bad night whether it was to be patched up or just to talk. His mind continued on like that until he eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next morning Aunt May came in and brought Peter breakfast which he hardly touched. She sighed as she was at a loss for what to do. He stayed in his room all day, only getting up to use the restroom. He just wanted to be left alone and she tried to respect that, no matter how hard it was to watch him push her away again.

After two more days of refusing visitors and ignoring the outside world, Peter’s aunt informed him that your mother had called and asked him to stop by. He honestly didn’t want to, but he figured he owed her that much. So he forced himself to shower and get dressed. He then proceeded to walk the too familiar path to your apartment, which again was accompanied by various memories that caused his chest to hurt. He didn’t know how he was supposed to do this. He eventually made it outside your door, thinking about the first time he kissed you, right there in that hallway. He hesitated, and finally knocked softly.

Your mom answered and Peter could see how upset she was, not that anyone could blame her. She invited him to come inside and take a seat on the couch. He still didn’t know exactly why he was here.

“I went today to get her stuff- from the car. This- I think it belongs to you,” she said handing him the small ring box with the promise ring he planned on giving you that night. As he took it, his eyes closed as he tried not to cry again, not in front of your mom. She too was on the verge of tears as he pulled something else out of the bag. “Th-this was in the trunk, it was her anniversary gift for you, she’d been working on it for weeks,” she said taking a deep breath and handing it to him. It was very neatly packaged in blue wrapping paper with a red ribbon. He turned it over in his hands.

Noticing his hesitation, your mother reassured him that he didn’t have to open it now. He just stared at it. 

“Can I get you anything, Peter? Maybe something to drink? Or to eat? People keep dropping off casseroles,”

“I’m good, thanks,” he replied clearing his thoughts.

“You can go up to her room if you want, I like to go in there. It makes me feel closer to her,” she added.

“Yeah, I think I might do that.”

He absentmindedly walked up to your room. It looked exactly the same as it had when he had last seen it. He looked over your photo wall, glancing through the pictures mostly of the two of you. You were smiling and/or laughing in 99% of them. Seeing them brought a smile to his face. He walked around the rest of your room thinking about the time the two of you had spent together there. He took in your familiar scent and felt if only for a moment at peace. 

After a while, he made his way back downstairs. He thanked your mom and told her to reach out if she needed anything. She asked him if he planned on saying anything at your funeral on Saturday and he told her that he would. Though to be honest he had forgotten that that was even a thing. Not the funeral, just the speaking part. He would have to start thinking about it.

When he returned to his apartment, he wasn’t entirely surprised to find one of Tony’s cars was parked around the corner.

“Hey kiddo, how are you doing?” Tony asked as Peter entered.

“As well as can be expected,” he replied setting down the boxes from your house before sitting across from Tony.

“I wanted to check-in, and bring you this,” he said handing him a small shoebox,”

Peter was confused, to say the least. “Mr. Stark you didn’t have to get me anything,”

“I didn’t, it’s from Y/n. She gave it to me a few months ago, made me promise to hold on to it just in case something ever happened,” he explained waiting to see how Peter was going to react.

“She’s unbelievable,” Peter chuckled, the stopped was he thought. 

“Have you eaten anything today?” Tony asked most likely at Aunt May’s request.

“Not really, but I’m fine,” 

“Are you sure, I can have Happy can go pick something up and bring it by, he’s been worried about you,”

“I’m good, thanks though”

“Peter I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how hard all of this is for you, especially right now. You know that I and everyone else are here for you. If there is anything that any of us can do, all you have to do is say the word and we’re here.”

“I know Mr. Stark, thank you,”

“Okay kid, I’m going to give you some space so you can open that -when you’re ready. Make sure you eat something, if not for you, do it for your aunt who’s worried about you. Let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you Saturday.”

“See you Saturday,” Peter mumbled before taking the three boxes upstairs to his room. 

He sat and stared at the anniversary gift and the apparent contingency plan. He debated which one to open first or whether he wanted to open either of them. Okay, that was stupid, obviously, he was going to open them. It was just a matter of when and in which order. After some thought, he made up his mind and picked up the blue box unwrapping it carefully. Inside, was a scrapbook. It had pictures from kindergarten to the present, but that wasn’t all that it had. It also contained some of your artwork and small memorabilia. For example, there were tickets from various movies, the receipt from your first date, the ribbon from the science fair the two of you won, and other things that Peter had absolutely no idea that you kept. His favorite part though was your handwritten additions. Small notes, song lyrics, quotes, and memories that you used to embellish the pages. You had narrated the entire story and it was beautiful. He spent hours going through it carefully, not wanting to miss anything.

When he finished, he put it back in the box and set it aside. He debated whether he wanted to also open the shoebox tonight as he had just been on an emotional roller-coaster. He hesitantly pulled it closer to him and pulled off the lid. There was a note on top which he read first.

Dear Peter, 

I hope that this note never has to be read. However, it needs to exist. So, here we go I guess. In this box, you will find two things, first a Funko Pop! and secondly a flash drive with a video that I recorded for you. 

The Funko Pop! is Kylo Ren. And you may be asking yourself why out of every character in existence, I would choose him. So here’s my reasoning: 1. You love Star Wars 2. I’m guessing that the world seems a little darker than normal right now, so I figured that he could serve as a reminder that no matter how far into the “dark side” you go that there is always redemption and light.

I love you Peter Benjamin Parker.

Forever and Always,

Y/f/n Y/l/n 

Peter took out the Funko Pop! And set it on his desk as he retrieved his laptop and queued up the video. He tried to mentally prepare himself for it, but it was no use.

Hi Peter,

So if you are seeing this something happened to me. I don’t know whether it was Spider-Man related or not. I guess it really doesn’t matter. I just wanted to tell you not to blame yourself. And believe me, I know you well enough to know that you will try to. Even if I live to be 102 and die peacefully in my sleep of natural causes you’d still be looking for a way to blame yourself. That’s kinda your thing, putting the weight of the world on your shoulders. Anyways, no matter what happened, it wasn’t your fault. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I agreed to be your friend, partner in crime, and your girlfriend.

You are so good Peter. You are truly a breath of fresh air. While others actively ignore the pain and suffering in the world, you go out of your way to make a difference. You protect those who can’t protect themselves and you never expect anything in return. Your life has presented you with so many challenges and so many reasons to turn cold, but instead, they made you kind.

Please keep fighting. Don’t lose hope, find something that inspires you, and use it to make you better. Make the most of every minute because life is unpredictable, beautiful, and ephemeral. That’s kinda the whole point isn’t it?

I could keep talking to you for hours, but at the same time, I feel like there isn’t much more to be said.

I love you Peter, and I know that you will get through this. I believe in you and know that you will do great things in life. There is nothing that you can’t do if you put your mind to it. Keep fighting the good fight. Or should I say keep swinging the good swing. Maybe I should go for, ‘May the Force be with you’? Hopefully that made you laugh or at least smile. God, your smile can save lives. So I feel that it is my personal duty right here and now to remind you to smile everyday. More importantly be the reason someone else smiles.

The world can be dark and scary and cruel. But there is so much beauty and goodness. You just have to seek it out. I wish you the absolute best this world has to offer. I love you, always and forever.  

Oh by the way, just in case there is any doubt, I am totally okay with you move on. In fact I want you to. Find a girl that makes you happy, who makes you more, and then allow yourself to enjoy it. Absolutely under no circumstance do I want you to use me as an excuse to stop living. 

Stay Gold Spider-Man.

And with that, the camera clicked off and the video ended. Peter replayed it again, taking in your voice and smile. This whole thing felt so surreal, like a bad dream that he had simply yet to wake from. That video though, it was something he hadn’t realized that he needed until he had seen it. It was like the fog was beginning to clear and he knew that everything would be okay.

When he woke up, he ate half of his lunch, which satisfied Aunt May. He then sat at his desk to do the impossible task before him. He had to figure out what it was that he wanted to say at your funeral the next day. He must have written and deleted at least 10 speeches. Nothing was good enough. It needed to be perfect. He would sit there in front of that computer for hours. When he finished, he was entirely shocked to see that it was after 2 am. 

May woke him up so that he had plenty of time to get ready for the service. The drive there was silent and Peter was thinking over his speech. When he arrived, Tony came to greet him. He wasn’t surprised to see many of the avengers in attendance. You were always with him at the tower and had become close to several of them. The service was short and sweet, your mom spoke, and then she asked for him to come up and say a few words. 

It was in the moment that he reached the podium that he decided to entirely disregard his speech. And instead, speak from his heart. 

“From the time I was a little kid, I always wanted to be one of the avengers. I wanted to have superpowers and make the world a better place. Y/n taught me that you don’t have to have powers to change the world. You just have to make a choice to be kind and do the right thing. She was one of the bravest and most beautiful people I have ever met. She always saw the best in people and went out of her way to make a difference in the lives of others. She radiated kindness, and inspired those who knew her. She always was there for me and never gave up on me. She taught me how to find the good in everything. She was the love of my life, my best friend, and my hero. She taught me how to become something more than I ever thought I could be. She saved my life in more ways than one and I will carry her with me every day of my life.” he finished quickly returning to his seat.

After that, you were buried and everyone went their separate ways. The following Monday, Peter finally went back to school. It wasn’t easy, but he had to start somewhere. It would take him three more days before he was able to put the Spider-Man suit back on. From there, he took it day by day. Some were harder than others, but he persisted. He walked at graduation and then swung by your grave to talk to you about his future plans. He was sure that you were proud of him. He spent most of his summer in the Avengers tower with Tony. In the fall, he’d be attending college. And from there who knew what would happen. But whatever life threw at him, he would remember to seek out the good and to do kindness recklessly as you had taught him.

[sosmartme]

Law

Hello everyone, I’m 28 years old and go by Monster and my pronouns are she/her/them/them. I just wanted to start this off by saying I made this blog on a whim so I don’t know how serious I’ll be taking it or how active I’ll be. I also don’t know how long it’ll last but I’m here to have fun. Because of that, I will be making rules on here fairly simple but they are subject to change!

This is a THE SUICIDE SQUAD ONLY portrayal of King Shark. His other interpretations are fairly different to the point I’m not comfortable writing those at this point in time. Will that change? Maybe. 

Due to the nature of the movie and King shark, this blog is 18+. If your age is not clearly stated on your blog I will not follow and may not interact. If you lie about your age I will block you.

Also, this is not my only blog so activity may be sporadic. We’ll see how it goes.

For the majority of the time, this blog will run on a queue. I will directly respond to starters/write starters without queuing them in order to get them on my tracker ASAP. Replies, for the most part will be answered in the order I received them. I'll kid of lurk on the weekdays but be more active on the weekends. Also, I wll mostly be on my main RP blog, Ruinous, so if you need me for any reason that is the best way to get in contact with me as its permanently logged in on my tumblr app.

General RP etiquette please: No god modding, no hounding for replies, assuming, no force shipping, mun and muse are not the same, no OOC drama, and please trim your posts.

For the moment the blog is selective but not mutuals only.

I am crossover friendly (again this is only TSS Nanaue so please keep that in mind) as well as OC, multiverse/fandom/ship friendly.

On the topic of shipping, not sure how much of the romantic or sexual kind I’ll be doing. I’m open to the idea but it’ll be a slow process. Any other types of ships I will take them ALL. GIVE ME THE GOOD FRIENDS AND FOUND FAMILY AND EVEN ENEMIES. 

While I don’t mind constructive criticism I don’t tolerate blatant hate/negativity. If you don’t like my portrayal, it’s all good in the hood, just don’t come at me sideways. I’m liberal with the block button and just delete anon hate. I’m just here for some fun.

While this version of King Shark is a bit more passive DO NOT underestimate him or provoke him as he has an immense amount of power and will eat and kill someone at the drop of a hat.

I’ll be doing basic formatting: small font maybe some icons? But you’re free to do whatever you want as long as it’s legible! I’m fine writing any length but if I give a multiple paragraph response please don’t shoot me a 1 sentence reply. If you need to drop a thread then go ahead. I’d like a heads up but it’s not required. Any threads not answered within a couple months will automatically be purged.

I don’t have any triggers of my own but if you need something tagged and I’ll add it to my list. My tags for triggers are formatted like “___ tw”. I don’t know if there will be any smut on here but if there is it’ll be tagged as USFW and only put under a read more if requested.

Any art/graphics on the blog are mine unless otherwise specified. DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE.

When it comes to following, it may take me a few days to review the blog but again I’m not mutuals only. So if I don’t follow at first it’s ok! It’s nothing against you and I may have actually missed your follow! I can get easily distracted. But things a blog has to have is an easy way for me to check for rules and about so I know what I’m getting into. If you decide to unfollow me please go ahead and softblock. I won’t ask questions or bother you and if I accidentally follow again just go ahead and hard block me. No hard feelings! I will be doing the same.

For the most part that’s it. Just have fun! This is a hobby not a job! :D

[yumeisha]

Love In Print [Masaru] - Episode 1

“But Mari, I don’t WANT to go read this on Wattpad, I want to stay here on Tumblr!” Listen, my friend. Let me help you. Here’s all of Episode 1! (But the rest is over here if you decide you want to read it!)

— SATURDAY NIGHT —

 She’s started to think of it as the summer of weddings. Like purgatory, but with more flowers.

Reiko sighs. Another Saturday, another charming garden venue. Soft, flickering tea lights float in shallow porcelain bowls. It looks like something lifted straight out of Pinterest, and it’s pretty in all the right ways, hitting every obligatory aesthetic beat. The music is loud and many of the guests are amiably drunk, swaying in slow circles on the dance floor or queuing up for one more lap around the buffet.

Alone at her table, Reiko hides behind the towering lily centerpiece, nursing a headache. She fishes her phone out of the tiny, mostly useless evening bag she’s bought to go with this dress and takes refuge in her work inbox.

She’d love to go home, but it’s too early to make her retreat. Another two hours, she coaches herself. You can make it for two more.

“Come on,” says Ren, prodding her in the shoulder. Reiko jumps half a mile and nearly drops her phone, not that her cousin notices. “We’re missing a cake opportunity,” he whines.

As usual, Ren resembles a figure pulled directly off some runway in Milan. Impeccably attired, hair artfully tousled, a Rolex gleaming from his left wrist. Reiko plucks at a tuft of fur caught on the cuff of his tuxedo.

“You know, there is such a thing as a lint roller. You have one somewhere in your apartment.”

Ren peers down at the wad of cat hair slowly drifting down to the grass beneath their table. “Lint roller? What lint roller?” And then his face lights up. “Oh! You mean that tape-on-a-stick thing from the last time you came over?”

“Yes,” Reiko answers patiently. “That tape-on-a-stick thing. You use it to make sure you aren’t leaving the house dressed in cat fluff.”

Suzu pops up behind Ren. “He likes for everyone to know that he’s more complex than he appears. An insufferable playboy and a sophisticated cat bachelor.” She loops her arm through his and makes a show of sniffing at his clothes. “Ah,” she breathes. “The smell of too much money, layered over eau de too many cats.”

“I have three. How is that too many? And why aren’t either of you interested in getting some cake? This is a wedding. You go to weddings for cake.”

“That’s definitely the primary reason for attending weddings.”

“It’s from Fujiwara’s, you know. They never do weddings anymore. You’re missing the dessert event of your lives.”

Suzu straightens his boutonniere. “You accosted the Fujiwara grannies for these people?” A low whistle. “Wow. Dad must really like them.”

Reiko follows her twin’s gaze. Their father, Ryuuki, is busy holding court at a neighboring table. He laughs raucously at someone’s cheesy anecdote and is having the most fun out of all of them. “It’s all business, I suppose,” she says, unable to keep from smiling despite how little she’s enjoying herself.

Suzu snorts. “Of course it’s all business. Isn’t it always?” To Ren, she says, “Hey, how long before we’ve done our duty for the family market stall? I still have ten pages left to write on a research paper and it’s…” She grabs his arm in order to check the time on his fancy watch. “… 9:34. With half an hour’s drive back to my apartment.”

“You can spare ten minutes to have a slice of legendary cake, Tachibana Suzuna.”

“God, okay. But it better not be weird like that sheet cake you ordered for the charity auction last month.”

“Not weird. Avant-garde.”

“Uh-huh. Also, it tasted like beets and had radioactive magenta icing. So gross.”

“You and Reiko just really have no appreciation for the finer things in life. Let’s go, the line’s only getting longer.”

“Don’t want any,” Reiko pipes up. “I’ll have a slice vicariously, through Suzu.”

“Twin powers,” Suzu concurs, initiating the special handshake they invented when they were six. Almost twenty years later, they’re still augmenting the sequence with new moves. “Anything I ate, Reiko also ate. And vice versa. Page 2, Line 21 in the Twin Manual.”

“The worst plus-ones anybody ever brought to a wedding,” complains Ren. He pours Reiko a fresh glass of water from the pitcher on the table and gives her a pat on the head, a gesture of silent sympathy.

She watches Ren and Suzu as they stop to tease Ryuuki along the way. And then she blinks back the onslaught of unwanted tears, reaches for her phone again, and taps the newest e-mail notification. Three unread messages beckon through Reiko’s blurred vision. She scans the subject lines, head bowed over the glowing screen. Slipping into the steps of a familiar dance, she starts at the bottom with the oldest message first, because that’s easier than confronting her emotions.

PRE-ORDER CAMPAIGN - SPS OMNIBUS EDITION. A reply from the manufacturer about a shipment of Star Princess Sanna enamel pins she asked about on Friday afternoon. Delayed for another two weeks. Not ideal, but better than never getting them in at all. Reiko marks it for a response later.

TENJOU DELIVERY WEDNESDAY. Timestamped a mere ten minutes ago. She isn’t the only one working on a day off. Reiko notices right away that the message has been flagged as important, which is odd. This e-mail appears, without fail, every Monday of her life. Throughout the long history of this exchange, the message has never been flagged as important. At least, not that Reiko can remember.

She almost opens it, curiosity triggered, but then she sees the subject of the next e-mail and momentarily forgets everything else.

ALL DEPTS: QUARTERLY MEETING — MON @ 10AM

A thrill dances through her, momentarily displacing the throbbing ache in her skull. The sounds of the reception fade away. She taps the message and it unfurls into a calendar invite. Representatives from every department at her publishing house will be expected to attend, including Reiko and the other senior marketing staff.

Most meetings are a dreary prospect, especially when scheduled for first thing on a Monday. At these quarterly gatherings, it takes hours to discuss things like sales figures and future business plans. But this one is special, because they’ll finally present the twentieth anniversary plans for DUCHESS Magazine’s most iconic franchise to date: Red Thread. The first manga she ever read all the way through, start to finish. The reason why she applied at Yumeisha in the first place, as soon as she’d graduated.

Reiko accepts the invite and adds it to her burgeoning, meticulously color-coded calendar. She can’t keep from breaking into a smile. She’s still beaming at her phone when she hears the grass crunching softly under someone’s feet and looks up to find that she is no longer alone.

The someone is tall, just about as impeccably turned out as Ren, and wearing a pair of dress shoes so highly polished that Reiko can see her reflection in them. He’s shed the jacket and rolled up the sleeves of the crisp white shirt underneath.

There is only a bowl of tealights to see him by, so it takes a moment for Reiko to recognize the man now seating himself across from her. But if the head of blond hair hadn’t given it away, the green eyes and trademark smirk would have made it very clear within the next two seconds, anyway.

She blinks at him. “Oshiro?”

“Hi.”

“Um, hi. What are you doing here?”

He leans back into the chair and stretches his long legs under the table, instantly making himself at home. “Attending a wedding,” he replies. “Chatting with the bride’s aunties. Waiting for you to pay attention to me.”

“And sending e-mails?”

“No rest for the wicked, as they say.”

Reiko puts her phone down. “It’s weird seeing you outside of work. This is the last place I’d expect to run into you.”

“Why? Because you figured that I live at the office and camp out under my desk on days off?”

She laughs. “I mean, yeah.”

“To be fair, I’d expect the same of you.”

Well, that really is fair. Sometimes Reiko looks up from the endless loop between work and her apartment, her apartment and then work, and realizes that her entire existence can be summed up in three boring sentences or less. And then she’ll go back to her computer screen, her half empty coffee mug, the pathetic little granola bar that will have to serve as her lunch. But that’s just the way of things, isn’t it? At least she genuinely loves her job. It would be much harder to bear, otherwise.

“I’ve considered just packing myself a bag and living in my cubicle,” Reiko admits, without any real shame. In the background, the band segues into their much livelier cover of a depressing breakup anthem. Over the noise, she adds, “At least it would save me a commute.”

“So dedicated.”

She shrugs. “So lazy.”

“Anyone truly lazy wouldn’t be checking her inbox at a wedding reception,” Oshiro points out.

“Guilty as charged. Have you come to scold me for not participating in wedding activities?”

“No, I’ve come to ask you why you haven’t opened my e-mail.” He waves his own phone at her. “I checked three seconds ago. It definitely still says unread.”

“It’s flagged important and with a read receipt? Seriously?”

“Seriously. It’s high priority. Read it right now.” He angles a covert glance over her shoulder, in the direction he came from earlier. “Oh, and if you don’t mind, don’t reply until I’m back over there.”

“Wait, you want a reply, too? What am I supposed to say? You send me the same four lines every week. I have the thing memorized by now.” To prove this point, she clasps her hands behind her back and recites, “Heading to Tenjou on Wednesday. They need endcaps, window decals, sticker packs, blah blah blah, for insert-manga-title-here. I’ll stop by and grab them on my way out. Thanks. Oshiro Masaru, DUCHESS Sales, 81-4-8914-1111, extension 822.”

His demeanor shifts, now part bemusement and part blatant self-satisfaction. “Look, Tachibana, I’m beyond flattered that you hang onto my every word like this. Not surprising. I’m extremely eloquent in my digital correspondence.”

She rolls her eyes. “There it is. I knew it was coming.”

“You even know my extension by heart,” Oshiro continues blithely. “It’s like my wildest dreams coming true. But what I really need right now is for you to open that e-mail and write me a timely reply. By timely, I mean don’t hit send until I’m at my table again. And then I’ll read your response and write you back. So on, so forth, rinse and repeat, until this torture is over and we can both leave.”

“Ah.” Reiko crosses her arms. “You want a prolonged reason to be on your phone.”

“Correct.”

“Because you don’t want to be here.”

“Also correct, but needs clarification. I don’t want to be at this wedding. I do want to be at this table with you.”

He tips his head towards his original seating arrangements. Reiko risks a covert glance and notes that Oshiro’s vacated chair is surrounded by chattering ladies ranging from middle-aged to elderly. Somehow, without ever speaking to a single one of them, Reiko can tell that they’re the problematic aunties who don’t get along with any of the other aunties. Consequently, they’ve been placed where they can ostensibly do the least damage. From the looks of it, they’re having a fabulous time.

Reiko bites her lip, smothering a surge of laughter. “Wow. How did you end up with the best seat in the house? Like, who did you offend?”

“Ha ha. I owed the groom a favor and he cashed in, majorly.” Oshiro leans forward. “They’re a nice bunch, don’t get me wrong, but if they set me up with another of their nieces, I’ll be double booked from today until Christmas.”

“You’re welcome to sit here instead,” she offers. “We have an extra chair. My dad prefers to migrate between friend groups.”

“Thanks, but I can’t just abandon my post. I wouldn’t put it past them to follow me over here, or else I’d take you up on that suggestion. I figure random texts to my brothers will seem rude, unlike important work e-mails. So play along, won’t you? And keep in mind at least one of them will be reading over my shoulder the whole time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? What on earth do you think I’d be putting in that e-mail?”

“I’m just saying, don’t use this as an opportunity to confess your undying love or anything. Maintain professionalism and all that.”

“Gosh, what a tall order. How will I ever comply?”

“Dig deep, Tachibana. Find that inner strength.”

Reiko pulls a face. “You came all the way here just to make me do this?”

“Yes,” says Oshiro. “You’re welcome. I’ll look for your thank you note in the mail. I also like gift baskets. The ones with baked goods are okay, but no edible fruit bouquets or artisan cheeses. Nobody wants those.”

“But why me?” she persists. “Don’t you have anyone else you can trade fake work e-mails with? What about Ueda? Or your boss?”

“Hey, take it easy. I’m not used to outright rejection.”

“I’m not rejecting you, I’m just confused.”

“What’s there to be confused about? I don’t want to be here. Neither do you. Let’s help each other out.”

Neither do you. Reiko feels very, very obvious, now.

He watches her expectantly. She can tell that he’s fighting hard not to break into one of his insouciant grins. Reiko can’t decide if she wants to smack him or bask in the infectious warmth of his attention, like a deprived houseplant straining to soak up every drop of sunshine it can get.

This conflicted reaction is more embarrassing than being caught on her phone. For God’s sake, it’s just Oshiro.

Their departments — Sales for him, Marketing for her — are often flung together, which means running into him at Yumeisha is pretty normal. They take the same elevator from the lobby and frequent the same break room on the tenth floor. He stops at her desk most Wednesday afternoons, as promised in his e-mails. Once in a while, if she stays even later than usual, Reiko might see him striding ahead of her through the lobby’s sliding glass doors, crossing the street to catch the same train. They never talk much, though, unless it’s about work.

Still true, she concludes, as Oshiro stands up and pushes the chair into place, preparing to return to the Island of Matchmaking Aunties. He walks backwards away from her, hands in his pockets. “Talk soon,” he tells Reiko, smiling as if he’s guessed all her secrets. And then he’s gone, threading his way through the crowd while she stares after him, utterly bewildered.

Read more episodes on Wattpad!

[etherealwaifgoddess]

But Then Came You - Chpt.1

Summary: Loki tries to plan his next moves after being dropped off in a post Decimation New York City. Master list can be found HERE.

Content Warnings: A sassy reader not afraid to call Loki out on his bullshit

Word Count: 3.2k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! The first chapter is here! Woo. I know I said 6pm but I literally have no chill when it comes to this fic. There’s no long build up in this one, just straight to our main characters meeting. I hope you enjoy! Chapters will be posted daily. XOXO - Ash

Chapter One

New York is a shell of the bustling metropolis it once was. Loki wanders the half filled streets quietly planning his next move, still unsure of what to do. The Eluskans had been kind enough to drop him off on Earth since he had nowhere else to go. The fall of Asgard still weighed heavily on his mind, his home planet which thrived for millennia gone in a fiery apocalypse. He had been given a few thousand dollars of US currency and a change of clothes to help get him on his way. They really were the kindest people. Loki had to perpetually bite his tongue so as not to lash out at them for trying to help. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t understand what they had done in bringing him back. Their intentions were good but it doesn’t erase the dreams and memories that have haunted Loki since his resurrection. 

The city feels empty in the wake of The Decimation. It had taken Loki a full day of walking through the abandoned neighborhoods to fully understand what had occurred on Earth over the past few weeks. New York was doing what it did best though; the communities were rallying round each other, helping support those displaced by the loss of family and friends. 

The summer heat wears on Loki and he starts looking for somewhere he can cool off for a bit. He’s hesitant to use his seidr to relieve himself of the heat as it’s been spotty at best since he was brought back. The healers advised it would take some time to return to its former strength after all he’d been through. They had encouraged him to practice with it daily to help strengthen it, like one would do for a weakened muscle. Loki wants little to do with his seidr however. It was the reason they had found his body, the incessant little spark that refused to die, and had also led to his resurrection.

The cafe is empty except for the two baristas who are deep in conversation when Loki enters. He’s running on three days of no sleep and needs the small relief caffeine will bring. The icy blast of air conditioning is helping his fatigue as well and Loki hopes he will be able to linger with his drink for a while without disturbing anyone. 

“What can I get you?” The overly cheerful blonde barista asks him. Her name tag reads “Sunny” and Loki almost chuckles at how appropriate that is.

“Espresso, please. A quad shot.” Loki requests. 

“Anything else?”

“No, that will be all.”

“Name for the cup?”

“Loki” 

Your head snaps up at the name. It’s too rare to be anyone else. “Holy forking shirtballs you’re him! I mean, you’re… you.” You blurt out at an embarrassingly loud volume. 

Loki stares at you like you’ve sprouted six heads. “I beg your pardon?” His tone is almost offended, but mostly baffled by your outburst.

“Sorry, I binge-watched The Good Place on Netflix last weekend. And I didn’t mean to call you out like that, I just… know of you. Never expected to meet you face to face like this though.” 

“The Good Place? Netflix?” Loki is still lost, now bordering on irritated. You speak in the hurried way he’s come to associate with youth, your gestures animated as you talk. If he can’t be served his drink here he’ll have to trudge along for who knows how long until he can find another cafe or, Norns forbid, a Starbucks. 

“It’s a show. And you know, Netflix. The streaming service?”

Loki stares blankly at you.

You’re certain your face is the same shade as a tomato as you continue to flounder for words around him. “Or I guess you probably don’t know. I’m sorry. You know that filter most people have between their brains and their mouths? I don’t have one of those. So I’m gonna go get your espresso and leave you alone now. Sorry, again, really.” You slink away to the espresso bar and start queuing up his shots, praying that the ground will just open up and swallow you whole so you don’t have to face Loki again. 

Sunny gives Loki a grin and a half shrug, “You’ll have to forgive Y/N. I wish I could say she’s not normally quite that awkward but she totally is. She means well, you just got her a little starstruck.” 

“Starstruck?” Loki raises an eyebrow at Sunny in disbelief. 

“Yeah, totally.” Sunny nods enthusiastically, “You’re a literal god. Who wouldn’t be?” 

“It’s not the reaction I get from most Midgardians.” He confesses. 

“Oh right, because of the whole ‘trying to take over New York’ thing.” 

Loki nods at her assumption.

“You don’t have to worry about that with us.” Sunny assures him, “Matter of fact, Y/N did a whole paper on it our first year at Columbia. I think she did it just to piss off our psych professor but it was some of her best work. She argued that it was proof anyone can be peer pressured into anything.”

“Peer pressure?!” Loki sputters incredulously. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, Y/N can explain it better, but basically she drew parallels between Thanos preying on your weaknesses, ie. your desire to rule somewhere, and getting you to do his dirty work for him, to a bully preying on a weaker kid’s insecurities and pressuring them into doing something bad.” 

Loki scowls over at your back, displeased to have a deeply traumatic event reduced to something so simplistic. “I don’t think it was quite that simple.” Loki grumbles. 

You hear his grumble, unable to ignore the conversation going on behind your back. “It kinda was though.” You mutter beneath your breath. Or at least, you meant for it to be under your breath. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, was it?” Loki’s tone is bordering on venomous. “Please, come tell me how you know better about a part of my life than I do.” 

The blush that had started to recede flares up again and you force yourself to remain calm and steady as you finish pouring the espresso and turn to face Loki. You spent a whole semester working on that paper and stand by your conclusion. Like hell were you going down without a good fight. “I’m not saying I know your life better than you do.” You clarify, “But I do think the whole ‘Battle of New York’ business is a prime example of peer pressure.” 

Loki’s eyes widen, he’s surprised you’re standing by your preposterous notion even with him glaring daggers at you. “Do I look like an emotionally fragile child to you?” He demands.

“No, but that’s the point. It can happen to anyone. Maybe I’m wrong, but let’s get a few things straight first.” Your brain has gone into investigator mode and you’re in your element now. Loki waives a hand dismissively letting you continue, “Who sought out who? Did you go looking for Thanos or did he find you?”

“He found me.” Loki replies evenly.

“Before you met Thanos had you ever considered attacking New York?”

“No.” 

“Would you have tried attacking New York or any other place by yourself?”

“Well, no. But…”

“Nope. No buts, mister.” You ignore his scowl, you’re on a roll. Excitement is thrumming through your veins, his answers lining up just the way you want them to. “And how did Thanos convince you to try? Did he by chance remind you of all the awful things your adoptive family did to you? Hiding your heritage, denying you of your rightful throne?” 

“It was common knowledge.” 

“Mhmm. And he offered you a place to rule. You only had to help him with one simple, little thing. You knew your brother favored Earth, right?”

“He is overly fond of this planet, yes.”

“And Thanos probably hinted that you’d be ruling the place that was special to your brother. The brother that was given the throne that should have been yours.” 

“Thor and I have reconciled since…”

“But not six years ago you hadn’t.” You shot Loki a cocky grin, you had him right where you wanted him. “So let’s recap, shall we? A more powerful person reached out to you, reminded you of the alienation of those closest to you, played up your supposed right to rule, offered you a chance to do so, and get back at your brother in the process. He offered you everything you could possibly want and the means to get it. Despite the means being wrong and you knowing they were wrong. Sounds like a bully and peer pressure to me.” 

Loki scowled harder to suppress the smirk that was trying to upturn his lips. You had impressed him more in five minutes than anyone else had in five hundred years. “Insightful little Midgardian. I don’t agree with your theory but you clearly put a lot of thought behind it.” 

“I did, thanks. But how are you here? The news said you died in transit to Earth from Asgard. Not like you haven’t fake died before, but still. It seemed pretty legit this time.” 

“The news was correct, I did die. And now I’m here. Waiting on that espresso you’re holding.”

You look down at the steaming cup in your hand, “Oh, right. Sorry. Here you go.” You pass the drink to him and his surprisingly cold fingers brush faintly over yours making goose bumps prickle along your arm. “So, what are you doing here in New York? Other than getting a caffeine fix?” 

Loki takes a sip of his coffee, sighing softly in relief before replying. “I’m not sure yet.” 

You give him a half smile and a shrug, “Well, enjoy your drink.” 

“I will.” Loki nods and moves off to the table in the far corner by the window. 

You turn your back on Loki to face Sunny, eyes wide, your face splitting into a grin. You mouth oh my god to her dramatically and she stifles a giggle. Loki is only across the room and you’re not too keen on making a fool out of yourself again in front of him. Unsure of how long he plans to stay, you busy yourself cleaning the espresso machine to pass the time. You’ll have a lifetime of gossiping with Sunny once he leaves.

Loki sits quietly watching people pass while he drinks his espresso. The dark brew hits his system like a gut-punch and he can feel the drowsiness retreating a little. It’s enough to keep him going a bit longer and that’s all he can ask for at this point. He knows he will need to sleep at some point soon, god or not he’s still flesh and bone. Sunlight hits the curly golden brown hair of a woman across the street and images of his mother blossom in his mind unbidden. The ache in his chest threatens to double him over but he steels himself, clenching the cup in his hand as hard as he dares without crushing it. 

Your eyes keep wandering back to Loki who’s transfixed looking out the cafe window. You try to keep busy but it’s difficult with him so near by. You’d seen many pictures of him and learned so much while working on your paper; it’s no surprise he’s attractive but you had clearly underestimated how attractive he is in person. You notice the second Loki sees something upsetting, the way his eyes darken and his face takes on a haunted expression. You give up pretending you’re unaffected by his presence and head across the room, settling down in the chair opposite him at the table. “You okay?” You ask him softly.

Loki’s eyes remain staring outside and you wonder for a moment if he’d heard you. “I’m fine.” He says finally. 

“I doubt that.” 

Loki’s reply is a perturbed frown in your direction.

“Look, I don’t expect you to talk to me. But I’m guessing some shit went down or else you wouldn’t be sitting here sipping espresso and looking like you’re about to pass out.”

“Some shit indeed.” He bites out deprecatingly. 

“Do you at least have a place to stay?”

“I’ll find one easy enough.” 

“Not right now you won’t. It’s move in weekend for the colleges around here. Plus all the people displaced by The Decimation. There won’t be a free hotel room in the city until at least  next week.” 

Loki curses internally. He can’t just wander around aimlessly until he passes out somewhere like a homeless person. Showing up at SHIELD’s front door asking for a room isn’t an option either, he’s still persona non grata with the organization. He doesn’t think they’re still actively hunting for him though. Loki had been told Thor was unavailable when he’d tried to reach out the day he arrived on Earth and he didn’t push, mostly out of fear of rejection. He’s momentarily consumed with agony and anguish again, thinking of his brother and his current aimlessness in this changed world. This is what he had been brought back into, a painful, useless existence. 

You watch him struggling internally and you can’t just sit idly by. “If you need a place to crash, Sunny and I live a few blocks over with our friend Chelsi. We had another roommate but she graduated and we haven’t found a new one yet. You’d have a bed and a safe place to stay until you find somewhere else to go.” 

Loki looks at you then, meeting your eyes and it makes your breath catch in your throat. He makes a hum sound that isn’t a no and it spurs you on. “I know I’m a stranger but you probably don’t have many friends in the city and I really just want to help. Take your time deciding, we have books over there to be borrowed if you want to just hang out and read for a bit. My shift ends in two hours and….”

Loki cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “Stop talking for a minute, will you.” He knows he’s in a tough spot and you have managed to both intrigue and amuse him in the short time since he met you. It’s entirely possible you’re being genuine and want to help but you could also be an assassin. He can't be too careful and he has to be certain. Taking your hands in his, he stares into your eyes and lets his seidr flow through him into you. You feel a sight rush, like when you stand up too fast and your blood pressure drops, and you hold on tightly to his cold hands. Loki searches quickly through your memories and thoughts, digging deep down to the core of your being until he’s satisfied he’s seen enough. There are things buried deep he knows you probably won’t appreciate him seeing but he can be discreet. 

Loki holds on to your hands just a moment longer than he needs to, letting your memories wash over him. You at five, running around the playground with your friends and inviting a sad looking little blonde girl to join you. You at ten, laying outside in the dark with the same little blonde girl looking much happier as you study the stars. You and the girl, recognizable as Sunny now, at fifteen when your parents died and you move your things into the guest room next to hers. You at twenty, moving into your first real apartment off campus, excited and terrified all at once. Hundreds of other memories flutter by as well, blurring together to make up your lifetime. School days and old friends, boyfriends and a few bad breakups, vacations and quiet moments spent at home. Loki is soothed by the simple ordinary memories distracting him from his own past. Regretfully he pulls his hands back, breaking the spell of the moment. 

“What did you do?” You ask in a hushed tone. You aren’t angry, just curious.

Loki swallows hard, relieved you have forgiven his intrusion. “I had to be sure you weren’t a threat.”

“You could have just asked.” You point out. 

“And you could have lied.” 

“Touché. So, what did you find?”

“Nothing of concern. I’ll take that room you offered.” 

You’re pleased he’s agreed to come home with you, hoping that you might get to know him a little while he’s there. “Okay.” You agree, unable to hold back your excited smile. “I’ll text Chelsi and give her a heads up. Sunny heard us for sure but,” you raise your voice pointedly, “she’s too damn polite to admit she was listening while she pretends to wipe down a perfectly clean counter top!” 

Sunny laughs and throws the rag down. “Mi casa es su casa, Loki.” She calls back. 

“Thank you, Sunny.” Loki calls back with an indulgent smile. He can’t help but be slightly amused by the pair of you. You’re both so young, the cheery optimism of youth still clinging to you and it's a breath of fresh air to him. He doesn’t look much older than you but he’s pushing 1,500 and after all that he’s been through he feels every single year of his age. 

“Grab a book or play on your phone or whatever until my shift is over if you want. Alex will be in at five so we can head home.” You tell him as you stand up and head back to the barista bar with Sunny. 

Loki wanders over to the bookshelf and pulls down a copy of the first book that catches his eye. Settling into a padded, dark blue velvet chair by the bookshelf, Loki loses himself in the book. He almost doesn’t hear you coming hours later when you stop over with a steaming mug of something topped with foam and sprinkled with cinnamon. “I figured you probably shouldn’t risk more espresso, god or not.” you tell him. 

“What is this?” Loki asks, accepting the warm cup from you.

“Chai tea latte. I don’t know what you like but this felt like it might be a good fit.”

“And why is that?” Loki takes a sip and waits for you to speak before he passes judgement on the taste.

You feel your cheeks heating. You won’t dare tell him your thought process in choosing the drink. Spicy but sweet, complex, an acquired taste, just like the god sitting in front of you. You swallow past the lump of nerves in your throat, “Just a guess, I guess.” 

Loki doesn’t believe your simple answer for a minute but he doesn’t push. “Well you guessed correctly. It’s good.” Loki takes a longer sip, enjoying the rush of sugar across his tongue. He would never admit to something as undignified as having a sweet tooth, but he will admit to himself that he’s enjoying the drink more than anything else he’s had since arriving back on Earth. 

“I’m glad.” you say over your shoulder, walking away to help a new customer who just walked in. 

Loki hums in appreciation, letting himself have just a few more decadent sips before his self control kicks in and he sets the cup just slightly out of reach on the table next to him.

[night-dragon937]

I need to share my experience from a few hours ago (writing this at 2 am aug 24 2020) yesterday but first I'm going to slap a huge tw: abuse, Christianity/gay stuff, anxiety attacks, and yelling/screaming, transphobia/homophobia, self harm/cutting and a lot of cussing/swearing onto this. Like this is deeply religious and I'd rather not have discourse on my beliefs.

That should cover it...

Okay so it started out fine, my mom and i were just talking. She was drunk, and attempting to convince me that my asexuality meant that i was straight... But since she was drunk, I'mma give her that. There was a lot of aphobia but that's not what this is about She started telling me about her experience, and best i can describe it, she's a closeted demisexual biromantic lady with a preference for girls and a shit ton of internalized homophobia ("being sexually attracted to women's bodies more than men's doesn't make me lesbian, I'm still straight")

It was a mostly civil conversation, but it was adding onto my bad feelings from my dad the past several weeks making snide hurtful remarks about our religion and my sexuality and gender. Also using the f-slur against me when i had explained to him in the past how badly that word hurts me, to which he apologized profusely and said he'd never have used that word if he knew how it affected me. Obviously a lie, because he's still using it with full knowledge of the effects.

Back to my mom. She started getting into the religious side of it, but we managed to keep it civil, until the very end when she said she'd be praying for me and i said I'd be praying to help figure out who exactly i am, and she remarked "make sure you're praying to the right person" with a really threatening tone to her voice. At that point, i lost it, let her know that her saying that made me want to go back to cutting (in case she wasn't aware) and said that i needed a moment alone (or something along those lines, i was thrown head first into an anxiety attack and can't quite remember very well).

I ran upstairs as she tried to grab me and pull me back, but i managed to make it to my room. I went into a fetal position, because safe, but she came in and all i remember is her screaming repeating some question, i think, at me, me not being able to breathe, her hands squeezing my wrists way too tight, my wrist pinned to the carpet with her knee, the other with her hand as she tried to grab my jaw and force me to look at her.

Her touching me made the attack worse (hours later i still have marks and scratches) and i couldn't talk, think, or breathe. Somehow i was able to choke out repeated pleas for her to stop touching me because it was making everything worse. I don't know how long that lasted. But at some point she stopped grabbing me and just placed her hands on me and started praying in tongues. Like i was fucking demon possessed. Because i had an anxiety attack. Which my parents have been triggering in me for as long as i can remember.

I managed to sit up and get her to stop touching me, but she refused to be less than a foot away from me, even though i was going through a sensory overload and needed personal space. She finally trapped me into a corner of my room and put her arms on either side of me, one of them holding the door closed. She was screaming in my face and i was yelling over her, asking her to give me personal space and stop being so loud so that i could calm down, which she refused. I ended up very trapped and very uncomfortable and doing my best to not have another anxiety attack while replying to the most outlandish of her accusations, but mostly keeping my mouth shut in an attempt to get her to do the same.

She kept using my deadname, like usual, but it was worse for me for some reason at this point. I mentioned that and got yelled at more. I mentioned her pinning my wrists to the ground and got called a liar and she tried to make it so that i couldn't leave and grab a Kleenex until i admitted she was right and that i pinned myself to the ground (???). So i just started describing what i remembered until she got sick of it and let me go wipe my nose. She must have closed my door when she first came in. My dad (stepdad) was standing outside the door, eavesdropping, apparently.

I got a Kleenex but then my mom started yelling at me again, but i mostly just pretended to listen because i didn't want to have another anxiety attack. My dad started piping in and making me feel so much worse. He ended with saying "you're not a Christian. You don't believe in God. Even the devil believes in God." (Implying that I'm worse than the devil). At which point i started breaking down crying. And then i ran outside to have another anxiety attack but this time my mom just stood on the porch because the grass was wet and she was barefoot, but i curled up under the stars for who knows how long as i forced myself to do breathing techniques, and stim by rubbing the wet grass, which really helped ground me.

I went back inside when i was feeling better and got a drink of water and a Kleenex. And they started telling me how much they loved me and that i might not see it, but they were doing this out of love, because they were concerned for my eternity. I kept pointing out things they were doing that hurt me and better ways to do it (constructive criticism, so they know what's bad for me) and they repeatedly told me how much worse they could make it for me and that i should be glad they didn't make it worse. I pointed out that this didn't make their actions better and they said "doesn't make them wrong, either." Which ????? Victim blaming, abuse, what?

I brought up the times I've cried out to God for answers and the few times He's responded, (refusing my request for Him to kill me, telling me I'm not going to Hell for being gay/queer) bc they kept bringing up a few dubiously translated verses of the Bible and they told me that i was listening to the wrong person. That i was worshipping the wrong one. They heavily implied that i pray and worship the devil (disclaimer: i don't judge those who do, that's your life, I'm not gonna try and decide it for you, also i can admit that the church of Satan makes valid points and treats people right, from what I've seen, this is just a huge insult for them to throw at me specifically because of what I've been taught my whole life). Also invalidating my whole experience just because they don't like it.

They keep bringing up me being involved in the community (following queer people on social media, having one queer shirt, going to gsa-which they told me I'm not allowed to be a part of anymore-, having queer friends) as me seeking validation and attention, and that i shouldn't need validation and it shouldn't be about validation if I really think that this is who i am. Aka, because i am human and seek human things, i must be a total fake and fraud about all I've told them (very little). Meanwhile they do the exact same thing with their friends and social media and each other and everything.

My dad kept piping up with totally unrelated, totally unhelpful comments and tangents while my mom recited the same 5 min spiel for at least half an hour. My dad was saying how my grandparents aren't actually Christians because they agree with me that the world isn't black and white and there are some shades of gray, and because they believe once saved, always saved. That there is nothing you can do, as an imperfect human, to remove yourself from the infinite and unconscious love of God. (... I can't believe he fucking believes that humans have the ability to overrule God because it makes it easier for him to blame and condemn people he sees...)

These are the grandparents who have loved me regardless of my sexuality and gender, even tho they don't agree, and made me feel loved and gave me a place to go when i need to escape from my parents. They're the reason I'm keeping my mom's maiden name (since it hasn't been legally changed) because it's their last name, and it's them i want to honor, not my abusive shitty hateful stepdad. Unfortunately they are moving into assisted living because my papa is in a wheelchair, so i can't move in with them.

He ended that tangent with repeatedly telling me that i was not saved. That i was not a Christian. That i didn't believe in God. And that i was going to Hell. Repeatedly.

My mom made me hug her and made me tell her i love her. I ended up exercising to stop myself from becoming suicidal. I don't know if I'll tell anyone irl apart from the one irl friend i have on here. I'm not sure if I'm going to tell my therapist or not. I reached out to two of my christian friends after everything but they were both asleep. I needed to write this all down and put it somewhere public, just to be safe. I'm not safe in my own home and i can't move out because I'm a. Under 18 and b. Broke as hell

There was a lot more that happened, this lasted several hours, but i honestly can't remember all of the details besides what i typed out. Anyway so yeah i kinda wish i were dead but i also wanna stay alive for spite and show them that i can be a fabulous queer Christian and that the world is colorful, and you can't reduce that to monochrome and expect to have an even partially accurate view of the world. I want to help others like me, and help them feel better about myself.

I'm setting this as a queue so that if my parents take my phone away, they can't stop me from posting it (they have no clue how to look at queued posts) and also so that i can go to bed now and look at it again later and edit it