#so I can't put it on there Yet but I want to Remember.

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[nothorses]

I'm starting to feel like.. i should stop looking to transfems for allyship. the way so many of them talk about and treat transmascs... i'm probably better off on my own than trying to form any kind of united front or community or whatever with them. the number of times i've seen transfems putting transmascs down lately is just.. it's ridiculous..

Trans people have been eating each other alive for a long time, and it's gonna keep happening, unfortunately. On the bright side, not everyone's like that! And lots of transmascs (and other trans folks) suck just as bad as the transfems letting you down.

The thing about it is that if you want a better trans community, you have to help make it. If you want solidarity, you have to start by offering yours. If you want the river to be clean, you need to go pick the litter out of it. I know it's hard and unpleasant a lot of the time, and it's scary because you might get hurt, but you still have to try. Being scared or tired or even hurt doesn't get you out of trying.

There are a lot of people already trying together, and a lot of them are transfem. Seek them out in every way you can. (I often reblog from them, if you need a place to start, and I think I've put some lists under my #recs tag over the years)

And don't let the seperationism get you. I'm so serious right now, we cannot under any circumstances afford to entertain seperationist ideas or feelings. Start reckoning with it if you haven't yet, and don't let yourself stop reckoning with it.

You need to remember that even the ones who are wrong about you are still more right about themselves than you could ever be, and you need to listen to what they're saying about themselves anyway. If you start tuning them all out because of what they're getting wrong about you, you will lose a massive part of the story, and your picture will always be incomplete. We can't make things better for trans people if our picture of transphobia and trans experiences is incomplete.

I'm sorry you've been hurt. You deserve better. I hope you're able to connect with folks who make it easier soon.

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

what a bland goodbye - spencer reid x fem!reader

reader goes to spencer's apartment for a needed breakup. no matter how much they love each other.

genre: angst wc: 935 warnings: breakup, reader wears heels, crying (duh), no happy ending, right person wrong time???, mentioned emotionally unavailable spencer

based off loml by ts!!! (im sorry), also this is much shorter than i intended!!!

The hallway is colder and your heels are louder than you remember. Snowflakes cover your head, your nose freezing from the cool, winter air. The familiar building somehow pains your heart with how much you'll miss it. You're not sure how long it'll take for the route here to be wiped from your body's autopilot. Even the door marked "23" is comforting. Something you'll have to get over soon.

His unsuspecting and far too joyful form when he opens the door makes you immediately want to rethink your intentions. Spencer's arms wrap around you as inviting as they've always been, the smell of coffee and laundry detergent unwelcome for the first time.

"You said you wanted to talk, what's going on?" he murmurs almost mindlessly into your shoulder.

Already, your eyes burn. You pull back and look up at him with an apologetic smile that hurts.

Chapped lips part as his eyebrows furrow. It's like he can feel how torn you are. But he doesn't get it. "Morgan says that when a girl says 'we need to talk,' it means that you're in trouble. I told him that's ridiculous but then I started to overthink and thought that maybe I did do something so I went through the last couple weeks but... I don't know what I did."

He nervously laughs, "he's ridiculous, right?"

Well, not exactly. It wasn't an easy decision to come to. It took a lot of convincing from your smarter side. You just couldn't put up with it anymore. The long hours were bad enough, but he'd never open up, despite eyebags showing just how much he needed to. Long hours were spent wondering if he'd be coming home unharmed or with an extra scar that's yet to be healed. As much as you want to, you can't stay. He's tortured. He needs someone with more to offer. More to give. You're not what he needs.

Glossy eyes find his hopeful ones and you feel despicable. "Spence..."

"What?" he whispers shakily.

It's now or never, you figure, inhaling an unsteady breath. No going back. Like a bandaid, right? If bandaids caused more tears, maybe.

"I want to break up." You attempt to sound firm, decisive, valiant but your voice wobbles and you sound nothing short of pathetic.

Beautiful, delicate features you've spent so long memorizing distort into a mixture of pain and confusion. The same features you've kissed and ran your fingers over every chance you got. You mourn those moments silently as he tries to understand. You know he won't. In only seconds, his eyes match yours in terms of despair, like he's already picturing the moment you walk out and leave him behind like a bad memory.

"Why? Is it... something I did?" he asks, voice so soft and breakable it makes everything ache.

"No. It's-it's me. I just can't... I can't." Tears gather on your lashes before spilling over onto cold cheeks.

"Can't?"

The way he's trying so hard to get it is what makes the moment last forever. What could you possibly say to explain yourself? It all feels so insignificant right now.

In his suit and tie, so pretty, he exhales sharply in frustration, a shot to your softened soul. He waits for your answer but you're not sure you have one to smooth the crease between his eyebrows.

You sigh and mutter, "I can't be in this. We don't work, Spencer. You don't talk to me, I-" you sniffle, sobbing hard, "I can't do a relationship where you're never here and, even when you are, you're- I don't know..."

He shakes his head and breathes out as his lip trembles. "You're the love of my life," he whispers, saline rolling down.

"I know." A particularly loud sob leaves you and you nod. "I just can't."

"Can't or won't?" he asks bitterly.

You shake your head, "don't do that."

Somber eyes you love look down at you, begging you wordlessly. In a simple glance, small moments that shaped how you saw and felt about him, it was truly legendary. But you couldn't deal with just those flickers of forever. They were momentary. They're not enough.

He pleads, "we can work it out. We can-"

"Stop. Please."

"So that's it? You're just leaving? I can't say anything?" he breathes desperately, crying in a way you've never seen.

You hate how your mind shows you only the things you wish you could unrecall. All the soft pants, gentle kisses, coffee dates, library trips, interlocked fingers and goodnight texts. Every memory that's only making this harder. "I'm sorry." Small sobs shake your body as each breath seems more difficult.

Spencer shakes his head, pretty curls falling in front of his face. "That's it?" he says in fear.

Sadly, you nod, wishing things could be different. Maybe they could be. One day.

"Goodbye," you whisper through a low sob.

He looks at you with a love that you know will never quite be buried. Not for years, at least. Part of you wants that love to come back to you. When he can be what you need and you can be what he needs.

He mutters, "bye," and you leave, for the first time with a heavy heart. You've never loved someone as much as you've loved Spencer. The breakup was needed but how long will the ache last? How long will you hide away in your room? How long will you dream of a reunion?

How long will it take for the thought of Spencer Reid to not leave you feeling homesick over something you're never sure you had?

tags: @1mnshw @sweetestthingonthissideofhell @punkndisorderrly

[gravedwe11er]

The @keferon mecha AU texaid continues living rent-free in my head, and I just had to write more for them! It was very much unexpected, but I can't say I'm complaining. Timeline wise, it comes after the first half of part one

Cw: mostly just typical Vortex things

One day after his terrifying trip with Vortex, Felix has another encounter with the dangerous mech and a tentative accord is struck.

Felix walks out of the meeting room after three harrowing, shouting-filled hours, feeling hopeless, anxious, and more exhausted than he’s ever been before in his entire life. And what a feat that is, considering he went through medical school during an actual alien apocalypse, not to mention going on an involuntary joyride in a murderous mech just yesterday.

God dammit.

Leaning against the nearest wall, Felix puts his head in his hands and counts to ten.

He’s being reassigned – Felix Adler, newest member of the mecha pilot corps, effective immediately. Tomorrow, he’s to report to the base’s quartermaster at five am sharp, so he can get fitted for a pilot’s uniform and be shoved back into Vortex whenever the next attack comes. The thing’s longest surviving pilot he knows of lasted a whopping six weeks before bleeding out in her seat, courtesy of her severed hands – and that’s disregarding all the other injuries to mind and body he and his colleagues had to treat before her eventual death.

God fucking dammit.

Technically, he could just resign. Could always pack his bags and leave, but – the military paid for his med school. There’s a mandatory eight-year period of service or they’ll make him pay it all back, with an interest rate high enough to make even a loan shark stumble. Short of winning the lottery, there’s no way he’d be able to get his hands on that sort of money in his entire lifetime.

That aside, he wouldn’t be doing his life expectancy any favors by leaving anyway. Most hospitals these days are at least semi-mobile, which means hard cots, cold MRE’s and frequent shuffling around to various affected zones. Not to mention, as beastly as the quintessons look, they’re much smarter than any animal - meaning they’ve learned to recognize hospitals for the prime targets they are and attack accordingly.

Given his luck, he’d end up being flattened by a quint within the year, spending his last moments miserable, tired, and in more debt than gambling addict on a year-long losing streak. It’s the whole reason he fought so hard for this posting in the first place – if you’re going to be working in a medbay, might as well do so where there’s a whole hangar full of mecha to defend you when you need it.

Which leads him right back to where he started. No place to run. A likely death on the front lines, one way or another.

Well. At least the food here is warm.

With an odd numbness creeping into his fingertips, he slowly starts making his way to his quarters, only to remember- right, he doesn’t even get to keep that part of his previous life. He’s being moved in to where the other pilots live, much closer to the hangar than his previous little shoebox of a living space was. Wouldn’t want him to be late for his next date with the malicious death machine, apparently.

Turning on his heels, Felix only makes it a few more steps before something in his head just- snaps. Suddenly, the foggy emptiness of before is chased away by an angry sort of determination, and he changes course yet again, heading instead for the nearest sanitation closet. Grabbing his usual Vortex-duty cleaning supplies, he stomps his way to the hangar.

They want send him back into that thing? Fine. Fine, he’ll be command’s latest sacrificial lamb, but if he’s going to die in that cockpit, he refuses to do so while sitting in other people’s bodily fluids.

The thought buoys him for all of five minutes until he’s standing on the catwalk facing Vortex, at which all his previous bravado evaporates back into a familiar dread. A shiver passes over his skin, the cold lance of anxiety nearly freezing him in his tracks. Still, he breathes through it, forcing himself to take the final few steps needed to stand at the cockpit entrance.

His hand reaches for the opening button- which proves unnecessary, as the crimson glass immediately slides up of its own volition. Blinking, he slowly lowers his hand again.

Hm, he supposes that’s as much of an invitation as he’s going to get. Doesn’t mean he won’t be getting mauled if he goes in, but- it’s a good sign.

Last chance to back out.

“Just here to clean a bit,” he calls out into the cockpit, feeling incredibly stupid talking to empty air, before stepping cautiously inside. Nobody’s bothered to clean up since yesterday, which means the last dead pilot’s blood still stains the small space, turning the floor brown and crusty. The stale air reeks of iron and decay, mixed with the stench of bleach. The sharp, heavy gaze of Vortex’s internal cameras digs into his back, making his hair stand on ends.

All in all, not a very comforting atmosphere.

Felix flinches when the lights suddenly flicker on, bathing the cockpit in red as the screen closes behind him with a resounding click. “I’ll try to be quick about it,” he says, eyes flickering around the small space, “so please don’t-“

A flare of light from behind gives him pause, and Felix turns to find words now written across the mech’s main screen.

AW, WHY NOT STICK AROUND?

GOT SOMEWHERE MORE IMPORTANT TO BE?

Felix huffs, a bit of sharpness creeping into his words despite his racing heart. “I do, actually. Mostly because of you, if you have to know.” Getting to his knees, he puts down his cleaning bucket and starts pulling on a fresh pair of latex gloves, keeping an eye on the screen all the while.

DON’T SULK BABY, YOU KNOW YOU HAD FUN~

“Wh- fun?” he almost yells, indignant. “I don’t know what gave you that idea, but-“

YOU LIKED SEEING THEM TAKEN APART

GETTING TO DIG AROUND IN ALL THEIR SQUISHY INSIDES

Felix freezes at that, one hand halfway to the bucket, followed by a full-body flinch once he sees the next set of works that scroll across the crimson screen.

SO MUCH BETTER THAN THOSE SAD LITTLE SCRAPS IN THE LAB, YEAH?

What the- “How the hell do you know about that?” he wheezes out incredulously. While the medical team eventually found out about the incident that led to his vortex-duty punishment, he could have sworn that it hasn’t carried as far as the pilots. Then, how could he have-

WATCHED YOU ON THE CAMERAS : )

YOU FUCKING SUCK AT BEING SNEAKY, BY THE WAY

LIKE, WOW

Sitting down on the filthy floor with a grimace, Felix closes his eyes, suddenly feeling very, very tired. “Thanks. I’ve noticed,” he sighs out, giving himself a few moments to process.

Vortex is right, in a way. While the experience was mostly awful, what with him being pretty sure he would die that day, Felix has to admit that seeing the quints properly, getting even a glimpse of their physiology up close was horrifyingly fascinating. They’ve long been a mystery he wants desperately to solve, a puzzle to figure out - He wants to see them with his own eyes, to take them apart piece by piece until he knows everything there is to know.

And Vortex seems well aware of it, too, because of course he can mess with the cameras, why not. He’s known all along, apparently, and it had, what- caught his interest? Is that why he strongarmed Felix into ‘piloting’ him in the first place?

He raises his head, intending to ask about it, but his eye is caught by a new string of text across the glass before he can get the words out.

WE CAN BOTH GET WHAT WE WANT OUT OF THIS

Shelving the thought for a later date, he gives Vortex’s screen a considering look, heart racing in his chest. “I’m listening,” he says, cautious.

YOU WANNA DIG AROUND INSIDE THE SQUIDDIES

AND I WANT YOU

WIN-WIN

With a raised brow, Felix scoffs. “Right. And how do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you’re not just going to kill me the next time I put that helmet on?”

YOU DON’T

; )

God dammit. Well, he should have expected that, really.

Still, it’s something to work with. Vortex clearly wants him around, whether it be for his medical knowledge or just his entertainment value, which means that, at least for now, he wants Felix alive. There’s no guarantee he won’t change his mind in the future, and Felix is very much aware that alive is not the same as unharmed, but-

It’s a start.

He could still leave. Pack his bags, accept his dishonorable discharge and his mountain of debt, apply at the nearest hospital and never look back. He’d never have to step foot into Vortex again.

But he’d never get to see another quint up close, not unless it was seconds away from smashing him into paste. Never find out what the primary brain looks like, how the mechanical parts merge so seamlessly with alien flesh. Never get to splay one open and tear its secrets from its body, like muscle from bone.

“Alright then,” he finally answers, and fervently hopes it’s the right choice.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! More coming soon! And huge thanks to @jayden-writes and @showstopper35 for their help and support!

[wardingshout]

Since I didn't draw anything for like half of 2024 I did an updated colour wheel instead! featuring only the newest of stuff I could find that fit.

I have also compiled a dump of many thoughts I want out of my head, like a little text post dump I guess. the tldr I guess I will just make "thank you".

Putting the most important thing first here which is. Every single time I catch myself thinking "no I need to draw smth other than alttp" a couple of very specific tags and messages pop into my head and I get so fired up to draw more alttp !!! the power I feel from that!!!!!

IIIIII feel like there used to be a way to do linebreaks but I can't remember how so my new text bit divider is random crap I can find lying around in my files

Ok here goes me being dramatic about something that only matters to me but feels so very important to get out for the sake of others too. I guess the gist of it is that tumblr is a rly important place to me and I'm so endlessly grateful for people always being so nice. at the end of the day I don't think I really care about much else in life than drawing and getting to share it with others makes it a much less lonely experience for me. I mostly just for myself, but I'm so grateful for the extra joy associated with posting it online too.

I feel a bit bad I can never seem to give back the kind of nice energy you guys give me. despite how much joy this place brings me, I'm just a naturally anxious person and I often chicken out of doing things myself. I'm so endlessly happy that people still bear with me or at least stick around to look at my art.

thanks to people's kindness I often find myself breaking out of the anxiety and getting a lot closer to initiating stuff myself, but I always get run over by some kind of irl issue instead, usually mental, but recently also physical health. I had so much fun on here this summer especially and I was so certain that this was the time I would make it last only for irl stuff to yet again show up and knock me out completely. every time that happens I feel like I have to rebuild whatever social bravery I had aquired from the beginning again and at this rate I won't ever get anywhere.

after weeks of very few work days, I feel like I'm finally rebuilding the courage to post and the concentration to manage drawing at all. it's not a lot of progress but I can feel it growing. from tomorrow it's back to full time work with no other breaks in sight and I'm scared my groove will be cut short already... I like my job but I've acknowledged I just can't thrive with full time work. I can bear it fine though, but it doesn't leave energy for much else in life.

I think the point here is. I know it's just social media but I've had so many good experiences on here and they're really precious to me. I hope one day I can be well enough to be that kind of influence for others too. my activity with art and presence online has become surprisingly reflective of how well or bad I'm doing irl, so I never I never want to give up on become a more present person.

the most important thing is art though, so finding the courage to get back to posting even if it's all I do, makes me happy too. thank you so much to everyone else who posts are too. I'm endlessly excited about all the cool things I get to experience and see online, thank you!

it is absolutely absurd how many drafts I have of just very frustrated moments where literally all I type is "if I have to be sick one more time I will lose my absolute mind holy shit" and having just been sick again? really feeling that !!!! it's also like. frustrating to feel you're making progress mentally and then you constantly get knocked into bed by phsyical health instead like come on I'm finally learning how to get Out of that place... and then every time you get sick, routunes have to be rebuild all over after, it suuuuucks....

I finally got a PC which has been absolutely life saving, However. I am still drawing on tegaki only... I'm so excited I can get back to bigger works on csp but I've gotten so used to seeing only my tegaki stuff, I'm scared of how much I'll suddenly hate my art when I see it differently again... hating your own art is probably a feeling that will never disappear but even so. I think I'm at a pretty content place right now and I'm worried about shaking it up. I can't let something like that knock me down when I'm only finally getting back to drawing regularly again... I already copied over the palette for some comfort so hopefully I can find a brush that feels similar too! at least I'm super excited about getting to pick some more colours !

and a very belated tag game thing !! I completely lost the original post by now but it was from @lele5429 and I've had it in my drafts this whole time, so better late than never to fill it out!

Last song: Alt Hvad Jeg Vil by Von Quar

Fav colours: warm yellows or light oranges!

Last book: switching between Assassin's Quest and Our Wives Under The Sea!

Last movie: The Princess Bride I think?? it was long ago so I feel like I'm forgetting something else though...

Last tv show: my roomie and I binged Twin Peaks season 3 as well as most of True Detective over christmas break we went Ham

Sweet/spicy/savoury: sweet !!

Relationship status: not interested

Last thing I googled: "nosferatu rats"... I see.....

Current obsession: alttp auish shenanigans... this one has not changed since I first drafted my response to this... on one hand I feel like I'm just filling out the gaps between games, but on the other it's getting very close to full au stuff... I always wanted to draw comics but had no ideas and for the first time in my life I'm drowning in ideas and fully held back by fear and skills haha

Looking forward to: actually surprisingly nothing at all? I'm looking forward to whatever good times I can create for myself I guess. the last few things I was looking forward to didn't go so well, so maybe it's nice to have nothing but the most normal and boring daily life ahead haha

[beef-brisket]

Adam groaned as he tried to reposition himself. The cage floor was about as comfortable as he remembered.

The room was eerily silent. Only Adam's breathing could be heard. His body still ached from the blood, letting Seth do to him. Thankfully, his chest was mostly fine.

He wasn't sure how long he had been here. It felt like weeks, but each passing second, Adam missed Lucifer more and more.

At least with him ruling Hell, Adam shouldn't be able to do anything that'll put him in danger.

Adam: Or ruin his life... I'm such a fucking idiot... s-should of let him kill me in that basement...

Michael: Already with the self-pity? Oh, Adam. You haven't even been here for a day yet! Though, it is fun watching you struggle~.

Adam jumped when Michael started talking. He looked out into the room but couldn't see anything. The darkness was too thick.

Michael: I, for one, am glad you're still alive. After thousands and thousands of years of watching you abuse your power, I finally get to see you at your weakest, your most pathetic. Which was a very low bar for you to reach, by the way. You could have benefited Heaven, Adam. If only you didn't get on your high horse when that offer was made to you.

Adam groaned as his shoulders started cramping: I-I'd never would have said yes to you-.

Michael laughed: And there's that pride again. Even when you're nothing but a useless ape, you still think you're better than us. Do you know my official title, Adam?

Adam: I don't give a fuck.

Michael: I am the Right Hand and Sword of God. The Greatest Enemy of Hell. I protect Heaven from all dangers, and that would usually include you, but look at you. Captured by Satan of all demons and humiliated by a sinner. Ha! Even my father couldn't write something so hilarious!

Adam: ...The fuck do you want with me?

Michael: Hm. Good question. Retribution. Have fun, Adam. I will return shortly~.

Adam squinted as a bright light filled the room. It was only for a few seconds, but it was strong enough to blind him long after the light had died out.

The cell's door creaked open, but by the time Adam registered it, there was a hard kick to his face.

Adam: F-Fuck...

Raphael: Easy, you almost broke his jaw.

Cas: Like I give a shit.

Raphael rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. A chair appeared in the far corner of the cell. Sitting down, Raphael smiled at Adam.

Raphael: Don't mind me, I'm here to heal you. Wouldn't want you dying yet, would we?

Adam heart clenched. He never thought he'd be terrified of Heaven's healer. But here he was.

Cas: That would really ruin the fun, but-.

Adam gasped as the angel grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back.

Cas: It would be a sight to watch your corpse he paraded around the streets of Heaven~. Who knows, maybe we'll do that while you're still kicking.

Raphael: Please do, we don't need the smell of death polluting the streets again.

Cas rolled their eyes and dropped Adam, unfolding his wings. They made sure to stand where Adam could see them.

Cas: Do you know how many angels you've killed? The destruction you've caused? With that fucking axe of yours?!

Raphael: Language~.

Cas: Seriously? I'm about to torture a dude.

Raphael: Hm. Fair enough, continue.

Adam: Y-You captured me- locked me away- I wanted to fucking leave.

Cas was silent for a moment before looking at Raphael: Oh, so he can swear, but I can't?

Raphael: He's Adam. Who cares about him?

Cas rolled their eyes. Adam winced as they snapped their fingers, and an axe appeared in their hands.

Cas: Oooh FUCK yeah-! Such my ass, Raph, I. Swearing while I do this. Recognise it, Addy~?

Adam jumped as the axe slammed into the floor next to his head.

Cas: I can see why you liked this thing so much! How many have you killed with it? How many have you ruined? But you don't need an axe to do that, do you?

Cas knelt down in front of Adam's face and leant against the axe that was buried into the floor.

Cas: You're the worst of us, you know that? Worse than every sinner in Hell, worse than the commander of our army. I'm honestly surprised you didn't turn this thing on yourself!

Raphael: Oh, now that would have been funny! Hunting you for so long, only to find you with your axe embedded in your chest!

Cas: Exactly what was thinking!

Adam stayed silent as Cas grabbed the axe and pulled it from the floor. He could hear the angel walking around the cage. What Adam didn't expect was a sickening pain shooting through his arm and back.

His ears were ringing, and warmth flooded through him in the worst way. He's not a stranger to pain, but dealing with his weakened state and his body trying and begging to run from the pain was something horribly new.

Adam could hear the angels talking and was that laughter?

His whole body lurched, his muscles tensed, trying to fight for an escape. His mouth watered, drool mixed with tears he didn't know he was shedding.

Cas: Don't heal him, not yet.

As his eyes slowly started to focus, he weakly watched Cas kneel in front of him, but something else was in his hand other than his axe.

Cas: Look, bud! You're waving!

Adam would feel sick, but it felt like his whole body froze as Cas smiled and waved a disjointed arm in front of him. It looked so familiar but foreign at the same time.

He flexed his fingers, and he felt sick all over again. Only his right hand responded.

Cas: Hm, we don't want him running again, do we Raph?

Raphael chuckled: It was a real waste of resources, not to mention angels. We could all tell how much you loved killing them, Adam. It was... despicable. No, Cas. We don't want him running again.

Cas grinned and dropped Adam's arm. The bloody limb landed in front of his eyes. Adam wanted to watch Cas, but he couldn't. His ears throbed as the sound of his axe dragged along the cell floor released a piercing noise. He could only focus on the arm.

Over the next hour, Cas removed Adam's legs, taking at least three hits to cut through his femur. He doesn't know if it was mercy, but he left him with one arm. Maybe it was more of a joke than anything.

Even as his whole body was feeling nothing but blinding pain, Cas continued to insult him. Reading a letter from the new Devil that sounded so much like Lucifer. Demanding his death and his head as repayment for a life of hiding and fear Adam had forced him in to.

At first, he thought it was fake. He wished it was fake. But Raphael was turning a black ring around in his fingers. Adam recognized it immediately. It was Lucifer's ring.

Even now, he hopes it is a trick. A trick that made him cry till he had no tears left.

He didn't acknowledge any angel that came in. Only Raphael was a constant presence. He healed his wounds but only to the point where he stopped bleeding. And he only started to heal him when Adam was starting to lose consciousness.

Adam wasn't sure how much time had passed. All he knew was that his skin and the cage floor were soaked in his golden blood. His had long gone hard and cold, drying and clumping together on his skin. The feeling only added to his frustration.

He heard another voice enter the room, but he couldn't focus on it, even if he tried. But he did recognise it.

Michael.

Maybe he was he was here to end him. It would be mercy at this point. He couldn't beg Lucifer for pity, not after everything he's done to him, not after those letters. And the ring Raphael didn't even have the courtesy to show him.

He was speaking to someone, though Adam couldn't completely focus on what he was saying.

Michael: He was meant to be an angel... oh, please, he's a fool. He wasn't even meant to be created. It was only by accident that his soul went to earth... I don't care what he is now or what realm he's ruling. He's nothing... powerful, yes. He nearly gained his true form when he had this fool raided Heaven thirty plus years ago... True. Now leave me, I have a guest to see to~.

Was he talking about Lucifer? He had to be. He was the new Devil, so it would make sense. And if what Cas read was true, Lucifer wasn't communicating about him, which stung.

Michael: My my. Look at you. Looking a bit light, aren't you~?

Adam couldn't respond, only being reminded of the situation again.

Michael: Raphael. Leave.

Raphael looked hesitant, but he walked out without saying another word.

Adam screamed as Michael kicked him, pushing him onto his back, and his missing arm and the deep cut into his back.

Michael: I know about you, Adam. About your little... affliction. And, now that you're officially divorced-.

It happened so quickly, and the next thing he knew, his wedding ring was pulled off his finger and thrown somewhere in the cell.

Michael: You're free to fuck around~. Well, not that you have a choice. This is what you were made for.

Adam wanted to kick Michael away as he pulled off his pants off.

Michael: You must be begging for it at this point! And you're lucky I'm so merciful~. It's not often someone gets an archangels cock~.

He wanted to beg for Lucifer, but he's doing better without him. He won't be able to hurt Lucifer from here.

He deserved the worst of whatever Heaven did to him.

I miss our God!Adam Au

Sequel 👀

In Canada Eh! Lmao

CANADA FOREVER

Yes plsss! I miss our stupid, power-hungry boy 😫😫

[bradshawed]

how the grinch stole christmas with bradley pls!!! xx

warnings — fem!reader, mild swearing, fluff, jake slightly self-depreciating, fluff mastermind seresin, kissing

note — missed writing for tg:m so fucking much! apologies that it's not very christmassy, i only just remembered as i got to the end 😬 it's also doesn't flow the best so please excuse that. hope you like it x

drew's christmas celly x && main masterlist!

...

Bradley's been pining after you for years, not saying a word, or as Jake would put it "You're snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment... that never comes." Maybe he was waiting for the right moment, or maybe he just simply wasn't interested and it was all in your head. Whatever it was, you were sick of waiting around to find out.

Who were you kidding, have you seen that man?!

You were used to the Dagger Squad leaving for months on end, having grown up around the Navy, so when they left, it didn't feel any different than usual. But the moment they got back, you knew something was off. And it was driving you insane trying to figure it out and decipher the looks they gave to each other.

Jake was going to punch Bradley. He was sick of Rooster longingly staring at you across the bar. If he heard the brunette give one more excuse as to why he hadn't asked you out yet, he was going to do it himself.

You would think a near death experience and reuniting with your reckless godfather would knock some sense into you but nooooo.

"Alright, that's it." Jake slammed the empty beer bottle on the table, the bar stool screeching on the hardwood floor as he stood up. Bradley's eyes narrowed tracking Jake's movements as the blonde sauntered to where you worked behind the bar.

"Hey Jake, what can I get y-"

"I won't say this twice so listen carefully. Bradshaw's in love with you but hasn't got the balls to admit it. He's scared of you putting you through what Carole went through or some bullshit because he's a good guy but he's depriving himself of a chance to fall in love with you and start a real family. Between us, he's got a better shot at it than me and I don't want him ending up like Mav so listen up.."

Your shift ended as per usual to the sweet croon of Bradley's rendition of Elvis' Can't Help Falling In Love for your ears only as you locked up.

"You and Jake were talking for a while tonight."

"Mmhm, I could talk about you for hours." You smiled cheekily at the blush creeping on his cheeks, "Walk with me?"

"Always."

You both walked in silence to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach.

"A little birdy told me you were in love with me."

Bradley's heart stopped, and his feet followed. His mind racing as his back turned rigid, Hangman was about to become a very literal call sign.

"Good thing I'm in love with you too."

Bradley's mind was still reeling from your first comment that he had barely processed the second. You'd said it so casually and matter-of-factly that- And god, you were smiling up at him so sweetly, waiting patiently as he processed that he was afraid his heart was about to burst.

Your heart was about to explode. He could probably hear it thumping under your his hoodie. Fuck. This is the last time you follow Jake's advice.

You turned to look at the moonlight reflecting on the calm water. Beautif-

Bradley's lips were on yours. Now you were the one in shock.

Fuck. He can't believe he'd missed out on this all because he was afraid. Maybe Jake was right, not that he'll ever admit it.

You both pulled away, catching your breath, your mind becoming increasingly aware of his hands on your waist.

"I- I don't know why I waited so long to tell you-"

"You still technically haven't." Bradley raised his eyebrows as if daring you to say more, his hand travelling up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, effectively silencing you.

"I love you," he replied, kissing you sweetly again, "and I know we need to talk about this and that I've got a lot of lost time to make up for, but you're it for me. I've known that for a long time."

"You're it for me too B..."

"And Jake says Merry Christmas."

[silentstyx]

bound by fate

sum! "percy asks his mortal girlfriend and she meets annabeth and the interaction of it all since the reader is pretty affectionate with percy and vice versa"

tw! guys annies kind of mean m sorry. also i made reader a tad jealous but like affectionate jealous heh. inner thigh grab. jealousy (reader and annabeth).

he was practically begging for the past week for you to meet his girl best friend, who also happened to be his ex. every time he asked you'd tell him you'd think about it, then that would be the end of it! for 30 minutes. then the process would repeat. it was every 30 minutes to two hours with the same questions: "did you think about it yet?", "so will ya?" "oh c'mon pretty girl, pleasee!" "don't ya love me?"

then as soon as it was the next day, he'd ask the original question over again. "do you wanna meet annabeth soon?" then the process repeats.

so you very quickly realized he wasn't gonna ask and then forget. that you had to give an answer soon, you also know that if you say no he'll be a bigger pain in the ass and constantly annoy you and ask you why and try to change your mind about it.

he came up to you right on schedule and asked again, "hi pretty lady... so remember that question i asked earlier that you said-"

you had finally had enough and cut off his question, "jesus perseus! yes. percy, i will meet annabeth. for the love of god...."

his eyes widened and their was a brightness in his expression that you haven't seen on him before.

he went to call annabeth and you groaned quietly, not looking forward to this. sure you've gone through their texts and he'd do anything you asked but you've always felt somewhat jealous of her? maybe it's because she had him first. don't know.

three days later, you meet up. she comes over to percy's apartment and you slept there that night so...

she walks in and you immediately look at her, she is gorgeous. how did percy fumble her, jeez.

"your his new girlfriend?" she says with an undertone of an attitude.

your brows immediately furrowed. you then heard what sounds like footsteps coming from the bedroom.

it was percy running to us because he heard annabeth.

"annabeth!" he exclaims, not running to hug her but it shows in his body language that he wants to.

she smiles, walking closer to him, "seaweed brains."

he smiles, resembling the smile of a golden retriever, "i missed you wise girl."

you can't help but grimace at the pet names for each other, which makes you subconsciously get closer to percy which reminds him why she's here in the first place. he wraps an arm around your back and places his hand on your hip.

"annabeth, this is my girlfriend, [reader]. [reader], this is my best friend, annabeth." percy introduces you two and you both subtly scowl at each other. you don't know why she already hates you, all you did was look at her when she walked in.

however, you're not just gonna take that lying down. you could somewhat tell that she was jealous of you. whether thats just because you're his girlfriend and she doesn't want her friend to be 'taken away' or because she's still into him.

so immediately you interlock fingers with percy and press your body into him more with a smug smile on your face. she forced a smile and sat down.

percy and annabeth were talking on the couch for a while and you were just on your phone next to percy, practically on his lap while they talked. you had your legs draped over his and a head leaning on his shoulder as you were on your phone. percy then moved around and to subtly apologize, he put his hand on your inner thigh. that then became the only thing annabeth noticed for a while as they spoke.

you eventually got bored from being on your phone and you got more cuddly and touchy with percy. you wrapped your arms around him and pressed pecks to his cheek, jaw line, and neck as he spoke. you could see annabeth clenching everything, she was annoyed to say the least.

by the time she had to leave your head was placed on percy's chest sideways, hands interlocked as you all said your goodbyes. you waved her a goodbye as she left. you and percy then went back to the coach.

"sooo how'd ya like her?" percy asked, trying to hold in his excitement.

you then held back an eye roll, "she was fine. we didn't talk much. but she seems cool."

He smiles widely.

"i knew you guys would get along!" he starts.

he then goes on a ramble about how much alike he thought we were and how we'd be great friends cause of it.

man, he's gonna crumble if you and her don't work it out.

the other part: Divine Confessions

[impala124]

Bad Buddy Ep 11

My thoughts on Ep 1 | Ep 2 | Ep 3 | Ep 4 | Ep 5 | Ep 6 | Ep 7 | Ep 8 | Ep 9 | Ep 10

Me, at the end of this episode:

Oh, nothing to see here. Just a pair of queer kids running away from home (temporarily?) because their love isn't accepted by their parents.

Okay, where are we now? A zero waste village and a seaside town. Don't tell me we're going back to the architecture volunteer camp town from Ep 6.

They are talking about Uncle Tong. So, they did go back to the camp town from Ep 6.

Junior, their unlicensed couples counselor, is here too!!

My boys clearly didn't plan this trip, and it shows. Thank God for Uncle Tong, who is going to let them stay with him.

Junior doesn't want to leave this little seaside town. I get you, Junior! Boy, do I get you.

"Whoever talks about our parents first loses." Everything's gotta be a competition with these two. I just can't 😂 I mean, given how the last deal (confession) they made ended with both of them winning, I'm looking forward to this.

Pran asking Pat to get his head off his tummy because it's heavy and Pat saying that it's because Pran is always on his mind. Well, Pran, you chose to pine after this boy for years, so deal with this!!

Both of them are hopeless in the kitchen. Pran can at least toast some bread to save his life.

Remember when Pat set the fire alarm off trying to grill some sausages for Pran? yeah.

They'll be eating toasted bread with condensed milk or ketchup until one of them takes some cooking classes.

Junior is clearly the head chef today, with Pran acting as the sous chef, and Pat is just doing his part by not taking part in the cooking.

Their brand of flirting is not kid-friendly, so sir, please calm yourself.

Pran is thinking about his mom while making her special sauce and reminiscing about his time as her assistant in the kitchen. 😭😭😭.

Pat saying, 'We can do anything we want here,' while forcing the guitar into Pran's hands. The parallels between Pran playing the guitar and Pran loving Pat are paralleling.

Who is that uncle with Uncle Tong, and why did he comment on Pran's guitar skills? Is he going to offer Pran a JOB??!!

Pat is definitely one of God's stronger soldiers for allowing Pran to serenade him with company present. I'll leave it there

Junior wants to be like Uncle Tong when he grows up, but his mom wants something 'less tiring' for him. Interesting.

Pat saying, 'Don't believe everything she says. Adults aren't always right', to which Pran can only reply with a noncommittal Hmmm is very telling. Pran, my beloved, What are you thinking??

Junior is running away from his mom. Now, where else can I find boys who are running away from their parents because they too want something else for their kids? No, not here. Okay, I guess I'll have to keep looking.

The conversation between Junior's mom and Pran is something every young adult (at least the Asian ones for sure; can't speak for others) has at least once in their lifetime.

Of course, Pran, my beloved, looks at Junior's mom and thinks of his own.

Junior insists on staying, but his mom wants to take him back as planned. The foreshadowing is so loud with this one that I need to get some earplugs to protect my ears.

Hey, it's the uncle from before, and he's the owner of this bar.

They've clearly reverted to using the BARTER SYSTEM in this town because I've yet to see any money exchange hands.

I've got my theories on Pran looking longingly at the sight of a random guy playing the guitar and commenting that he's great when Pat asks him if he wants to join along. You see, it has everything to do with him feeling UNDESERVING of Pat's love.

I guess Pran wants to finish that unfinished song that he sang for Pat and Junior the other day.

Pat, bestie, what do you mean Uncle Yod (the bar owner, I guess) is offering y'all a permanent job??!! Do you guys have a duration in mind for how long the trip will be? Thank you, Pran, for asking Pat if he wants to stay for a long time.

Oh, Pran just putting the SIM card away after Pat more or less tells him that he, in fact, does want to stay there for some time 😭😭.

Pran, sir, your avoidant behavior is acting up; get it under control.

See, now, I'll be defending Pran wanting to call his mom because Pat informed Pa about his whereabouts, so Pat's family knows that he's okay, which isn't the case with Pran.

Pran's "I don't want to go back now" is very telling with heavy emphasis on the now.

See, relationships aren't easy, and they don't just happen; it takes effort and communication.

Pat is pissed, which he definitely has a right to be.

Now, don't tell me that Pran brought THE SEAWEED SNACK from Ep 6 and offered it to Pat.

He did. Pat, now's the time for payback. I understand that you're mad at Pran, and taking the snack, which is clearly a peace offering, would be giving in, BUT LICK PRAN'S FINGER, damnit. DO IT FOR ME.

Pat didn't give in, bestie; where'd you get that restraint from, and can I borrow it?

'I can be anywhere as long as I have you.' ASDFGHGGF

So, Pat was ready to fold when Pran offered him the snack, so we are kind of in the same boat in the restraint department.

The kiss on the beach is just ADFGSHG. I love their playful kisses, bit the emotional ones just make me go feral.

Now, I'm glad they got to have their first time here, without Pa's bladder interrupting them.

Post-nut clarity is real because they clearly made some decisions, even if they haven't shared them with each other yet.

Okay, Junior is leaving with his mom.

No, but they actually do look like a pair of dads sending off their son to boarding school before the term begins.

'To be with you for at least one more day... ' Who's chopping the fucking onions over here?!

@starryalpacasstuff I guess this is where the faith you told me to have comes into play. I'll take your word for it, bestie, and persist because I don't think I like where this is headed.

Pran is crying, and I'm not OKAY.

They are leaving the next day??!!

Uncle Tong is the unsung hero of this series, and everyone deserves to have someone like him in their corner.

Reusable tumbler, you say? You, Uncle Tong, are an inspiration!!

Pran serenading Pat with a song he wrote about their love is going to be the death of me.

I'm getting glimpses of Pa & Ink, Korn & Wai together—so my ships are sailing smoothly.

"You might think one man can't change the world. But I want you to know that this world can't change someone like me either"—words to live by, especially in these trying times.

'Have you ever pictured what it'd be like if our families weren't enemies?' I'm glad you asked, bestie, because I've been thinking about it since the day I met y'all. You guys would've been like Ink and Pa.

Fam, let it be on record that Dissaya serving Pat her seafood sauce and them feeding each other before their family broke me irrevocably😭😭😭. She didn't even let Pat give Pran some admin documents irl.

Let's go home & Good luck, buddy with tears in their eyes.

I don't know why I'm this affected because this was the only plausible outcome. But this shit still hurts. It's a good thing I planned ahead and can just dive into the next episode now.

The whole sequence of Pat throwing away the SIM card by saying that no one can bother them now, encouraging Pran to do the same by dangling the possibility of freedom in front of him, and Pran following through and Pat revealing that he just pretended to throw it away, which makes Pran reveal that he too didn't throw away the card because he knows Pat just screams foreshadowing with throwing away the SIM cards being a metaphor for severing ties with their parents. Pat is a filial son, to his own detriment at times, and Pran knows it.

Pran's "Being with you already feels like freedom" to Pat & his "Is it even my job to be responsible for your feelings?" to his mom are very interesting, to say the least. There is a lot of emphasis being put on Pran and his desire for freedom. Me thinks Pran is ready to stop letting others, especially his mom, make decisions for him.

They doubled down on the whole 'familial rivalry being an allegory to homophobia' thing in the episode with

Run away to a place where there's only us. Do you think they'll allow it? Our parents won't. But some people might. We like each other. Why does it bother anyone?

Tagging the usual suspects: @shortpplfedup, @incandescentflower, @starryalpacasstuff, @7nessasaryevils, @greenteadumplings, @grapejuicegay, @madworld-bbs, @usodeshou, @tao-moonb, @fanatic-freakshow @desi-yearning. If anyone wishes to be tagged in the future, let me know.

[wings-of-ink]

Anon Ask response below! Very slight chapter 5 "spoiler" info too.

I thought I'd respond this way since I've rather liked being able to respond in chunks throughout the ask! ^_^

I saw the ask about bear related nicknames for Oswin, and I imagined my own MC (Winfred, I had mentioned him before) trying to call him any of that. But it doesn't work for him. Mostly because Winfred is taller and broader than Oswin, so if anything, Winfred resembles a bear more. A teddy bear, perhaps, given how sweet and kind he is, but a bear nonetheless.

I remember your Winfred! I love that, lol. So Oswin can be the honey to Winfred's bear?

Also, on a similar line of thought, I always think it's hilarious but very cute how protective the group is of my MC. Because, sure, Winfred is in a terrible unfair situation. But they don't know that at the beginning (except for Oswin), and my MC surely doesn't look weak nor frail. So it's funny to read how they all want to protect him so much. Yet, it's also so endearing. Winfred is such a sunny kind of character, I do imagine he is hard not to love.

That is adorable. They are all convinced that no matter how someone appears, they deserve a hand up when faced with troubles. Zahn is like an angry kitten putting on a brave face for Winfred, lol.

Speaking of love (I know I'm rambling at this point, sorry), I am heartbroken for Winfred. Because he used the chance to confess his feelings, and Oswin stopped him. And I don't know how Winfred would process that. Not entirely at least.

I've seen that theme in a few asks. I completely feel that, it's valid for MC's to feel heartbroken or rejected. It'll play out though and on the way home, Winfred will get to figure out how he feels about that.

For one, I know he won't force the topic again. He is understanding that Oswin needs time to tell him everything, so he'll understand he doesn't have to speak about love with Oswin just yet. However, I do imagine he could end up feeling resigned. In the sense he would interpret Oswin refusal not as Oswin feeling guilty about being loved by him, but rather as a declaration of an obvious fact: Oswin doesn't love him (which we know it isn't true, but Winfred doesn't know that). And since my Winfred's heart is wholly devoted, entirely and irrevocably owned by Oswin... It means Winfred probably would accept he'll never experience romantic love.

Awe, he's really going to go through it then. That is sweet, and it sounds to me like they sort of love in the same deep way.

Now, this is tragic and all, but I do imagine a funny scenario where Winfred —convinced Oswin doesn't, can't and will not ever love him— will try to find a partner that could make Oswin happy. Assuming Winfred survives, of course. Mostly because Winfred loves Oswin so much, that he prefers to see him happy with someone else than miserable. And maybe, if Oswin finds someone to love, then if Winfred died he would not feel as much pain, or at least would have someone to support him... I realize this stopped being funny to turn sad, guess I'm too fond of angst to stop myself.

LOL It's a sweet notion even if there is an underlying sadness to it! Oswin would be so torn up about that too.

In any case, I know you released chapter 5 recently. But I feel I need more and want to read chapter 6 as soon as possible. Especially so because the conclusion of chapter 5 shattered my expectations of how the story was going to go. I expected the journey to last until MC found a cure, not that they would return home. And that's not taking about the magic stuff that's going on. There is so much to learn about this world, and I'm hooked.

I miiiight have an outline going already.... :D I am really excited to write it too! I need to make some corrections to chapter 5 of course still, but I can't help but outline 6 to satisfy the "itch." The trip home is just to re-group though, so never fear, Winfred will be off to find answers again after a plan is made. I'm glad you love learning more about the world too, because there's some really fun info coming up! ^_^

Of course, don't pressure yourself. And remember to drink water too.

No worries! I'm making sure to take pretty good breaks before I really get into writing like normal. Winter is a very sleepy time for me and I know my limits. When I feel the spark, I poke around in my documents though. And I always have my water thermos at the ready!

Have a nice day!

You too my dear! Thank you for stopping by and sharing your thoughts! ^_^

[watchingsunrises]

Zayn lyrics analysis - Grateful and The Time

As promised some lyric analysis from Room Under the Stairs. Still can't stop listening to these songs or album.

Some points to make clear first for context. The narrative set up for this album was a big fake mess and in reality did not align to the lyrics and what Zayn tells us in his music or interviews if you pay attention. The narrative set was he'd been writing the album for 6 years, it was about his relationship of that period and it was also about his daughter.

First the timeline makes no sense, we are meant to believe that this album covers the period of 2017 to 2023??!! Please Zayn released 3 full albums in that time period. Most artists write in their current context they rarely hold on to songs for 6 years. If they are good they want them on that current album. Also the songs on this album all reflect significant personal growth, emotional intelligence, maturity, possibly some therapy, reframing of his life including on his past in 1D. Its clear those are more recent changes that usually come with age or significant life changes or overcoming challenges. So the narrative on the timeframe was all bullshit. Its likely he wrote this album in 2022 to 2023. A period where he was publically single. The narrative was used to cover the many love/long term partner related songs on the album. Hello, Stardust. 

Secondly Zayn made it clear in a few interviews that he is really fast at putting his music together. He literally said he can put an entire song down start to finish in 2 to 3 hours. Don't think he needed 6 years to put this album together. 

The other gem Zayn gave us in interviews was the in hindsight, I don't think I've ever been in love before. Thank you Zayn, if people pay attention he made it pretty clear he isn't writing any love songs about his former public relationships. Yet the album has multiple love related songs. Again, hence the bullshit narrative.

Thirdly, the narrative the album was about his daughter. I mean she was 2 to 3 when this album was written. He makes it clear even where there is a stunt line or two that he is talking to an adult, telling them deep things, doing things they shouldn't do, lying for them etc. Nothing speaks about a toddler here at all. Not once. I have a child only a few years older, there's no sign of a child in these lyrics. 

With that in mind I wanted to analyse two of my favourite songs, as a start. Really powerful songs and vocals. Songs that are deeply personal to me, I understand and relate to the themes of gratitude and time deeply. I believe Zayn relates to them from similar life experiences. Songs I fully believe would have been originally part of the tour. Songs in the context of losing Liam, would be impossible to sing live. Hence the tour including a whole bunch of B sides from the album. 

Grateful

I see your mother’s shine in your eye

I know that you’re mine and I'm cryin'

Tellin' you the things that are on my mind

When I think of you

This is a classic stunt line used to set up the idea the song is about his daughter who he is grateful for. If you pay attention to the third line he is telling things to this person that are on his mind. He is not telling a then 2 or 3 year old all the things on his mind. He is talking about another adult here, his love, his person. He's also not talking about Gigi here, they were broken up when the album was really written, plus he never loved her, remember. The rest of the song is also talking about the ups and downs in life and his relationship. A relationship he's still clearly in, there's no past tense. With that in mind let's revisit the first two lines and how intimate and beautiful they really are. He is telling his person, his love, that their eyes share the same shine as their mother. Ugh my heart. Zayn is the softest, most romantic. That he knows this person is his person in life and knowing he's met his person makes him cry. Cry from happiness and gratitude. And if you believe his person, his love is Liam then this song already just stunning that this is how his love feels to him. Now it's just even more beautiful and gut wrenching and no wonder he couldn't sing it live on tour, even though it's such a sing a long style song and I fully believe he would have intended to sing it on tour. 

Yeah, I'm grateful for you

Love it when the rain comes down

Love it when the waves calm down

Yeah, I'm grateful for you

He is just so content and happy to have found his person in life. The rains can come down on them individually or as a couple, they know they can get through and things always calm down eventually. He is just grateful. Again gut wrenching now. I can barely contemplate how these songs have changed for Zayn. 

These days I live to my depiction

Nowadays I'm findin' no affliction

These days I'm needin' no restriction

Feel like I'm finding new addiction

He is as a person feeling like he can be more of his true self in private and public, perhaps found ways to find peace in his/their closeting and situation. He has less restrictions now without the constant long term beading/pr relationships. He is able to stay publically single with the cover of a child. There is a whole different post somewhere in the future on this. I believe Louis and Zayn were able to make the same negotiation to be single in exchange for father of the year roles. But perhaps their partners had to more heavily stunt in relationships too. We will never know but there is some mirroring between the two couples situations the last 3 years or so especially Zouis. 

And it feels good

And I knew it would

When I'm tellin' this story it's complicated

Some mishaps I've been mournin' but I'm grateful for it

It feels good to write music without it having to be perceived about his public relationships. He can't share all the stories still though, they are too complicated. There are mistakes he regrets but he can still feel gratefulness amongst it all.

Things change and I'm okay with what I'm not

It feels wasteful to be hateful

I'll be grateful for what I got

There has been so much pain in his life. He could choose to be angry and hateful but that feels wasteful. He chooses to reframe and focus on what he has, who he is and be grateful. There is huge maturity and emotional intelligence going on here. 

These days I'm needin' no restriction (For you)

Just as always Zayn finds a subtle sweet way to bring his person, his love into the narrative of the lyrics. These days I'm needing no restrictions for you. For you! Perhaps this refers to no longer needing the restriction of a bearing/pr relationships to cover his for you. He sounds like he feels more free. He's focussed on gratitude. 

The Time

Yesterday just came and went

And if today I wake up late, I won't forgive myself

’Cause time's running its own game

And I've rolled the dice too many times in my head

Huge changes as mentioned in perspective and growth as a person. He is reframing life, he values time, he doesn't want to waste time anymore. He's wasted time in the past being angry, being focussed on pain or other challenges. Its not for him now. Something significant happened that challenged his perspective too.

Never fell for the fame thing

They fell in love with the same things

Let me know when the rain ends

See all I need is you

Ain’t it special? Ain't it precious?

The time that we have

When I'm laid in your bed and you tell me you lovе me

Bringing his person, his love into the story with him, as he ALWAYS has across 4 albums. He and his person never fell for the fame thing. His person is in the industry too. That's pretty clear here, right. He and his person fell in love with the same things. Again seems clear, they both fell in love with music. Music is the thing they love and what they wanted to do in life. Fame came with it but they didn't really want to play that game. I'll fight anyone who can't see this isn't about Liam. Who else, honestly? All he needs is his person, his love. Its the best thing they both got from the fame and music. They got each other, as teenage boys and god damn that really is SO special and precious. So rare and unique. The time they have is everything, it means more than the fame and music and all the bullshit they have had to go through to be together. Time is all that matters, it is everything. When they lay in bed together, when they say I love you, he's making it clear it's an intimate setting, yet so normal and usual for them. Those are the moments that matter most not fame or music.

Colours back in all my days

Build the structure, lеt it break

As long as it's good for your brain

Lessons learned is what I've gained

Feedin' families, forget the fame

I'm doing it now for a second name

His person, his love brings all the colour into his life. I mean beautiful, they bring him joy and happiness. There's also queerness here, a number of closeted artists talk in lyrics about it being grey and searching for colour or the rainbow. He has his rainbow. They've built a life together, structures, a home, routine. Simple life, relationship things. Whatever is good for them, doesn't matter what it is. Its away from the fame. Feeding families, they are a family and they support their own families, these are benefits from the fame, they focus on. Doing it for a second name. Obviously a stunt line, you have to expect them but in context of the song and the rest of it using they to reflect his partner, it can be more true that he's referring to his partners second name.

And I could cry when you tell me that you love me

When you're doing things you shouldn’t be

And I lie for you

And I could cry when you tell me that you love me

And I'd die for you if you asked me to

This bridge, I was crying before Liam passed just the absolute love and devotion that you would die if the person asked you too. And no this line is not about his daughter, his daughter at 2 or 3 is not doing things they shouldn't and him lying for her. There is some insight here for me that perhaps this refers to Liam's addiction issues. That Zayn is fighting for, fighting with his partner, time is everything. They've been close to the edge of life and loss. That's the feeling here for me. And I feel that because I've been going through cancer the last few years, on the edge of my own mortality. Facing that fear. How time is the greatest value in life. How time with my daughter means more than anything. How every second of time spent in the most simplest and intimate ways with her is so fucking precious and special. And when I think of Zayn writing this song and still having Liam after whatever happened on that edge of life. To truly understand the value of time in life, it's a different way of understanding, of knowing when you've truly faced it on the edge of life. That's what I feel in the song, in many parts of the entire album. It resonates so deeply for me. To then lose him afterall. It is devastating. It makes me deeply worried if Zayn can find his way in life without Liam. I hope he can, I hope he can focus in on the same things he focuses on in this album. I hope he can find it in him to write for Liam. I hope the tour gives him something forward focussed. 

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

A A A H

[ayrennaranaaldmeri]

ok ok its my fault for being on reddit but r/houseofthedragon rn full of people arguing that demon and his 99% neck lizard have a stronger bond than aegon and sunfyre and it's so fucking frustrating that its entirely condolt's fucking fault that this is even a fucking argument because he thinks the greatest bond between a dragon and his rider to ever go that fucking hard in this universe is pRopaganda and gives dae mon and car ax es more screentime. i'm just so fucking done man. never showed us sunfyre TRULY until it was time for demon jr the anime edgelord to attack him and aegon, never get the fact that sunfyre is literally on aegon's arms, never got the coronation flying, DIDN'T GET ANYTHING UNTIL IT WAS TIME TO FUCK HIM UP FOR THE PLOT.

i wish this mf would get fucking fired before he has a chance to touch these two anymore because I don't think i can handle how he will underplay and butcher the fact that this dragon literally fought tooth and claw with a broken wing to find his way back to his rider.

[russianyoshkinaneko]

while looking through games i've played (for the Game Challenge on bluesky) i have (re)discovered my now 12 year old video of my favorite thing to do in Assassin's Creed 1.

wanted to add a couple of other vids of me doing the same thing back in 2022, but tmblr doesn't allow more than 1 file in a post :(

so i compiled all the vids into one

(the old one had no audio so the first ~30sec is silent ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[medicinemane]

Honestly a lot of the time, it's not even about people having to agree with me, it's about needing to know that they actually heard and listened to what I had to say even if it didn't persuade them

Just... some basic indication that there's enough respect to give a shit about what I said, and also to make sure that they disagree because they actually disagree and not cause they just didn't bother listening

It's all I really ask