#so many places and things are tied to memories of him

[human-monokuma]

"Hear it form him you shall." *With a playful tap on the nose, Mikado started seeing and hearing things from Celestia's perspective. it was her memory of her conversation with Monokuma.*

Monokuma: "So what did you want to talk about?"

Celestia: "Your rewards for your selflessness and bravery in the face of despair and disaster. Such as this." *She covers Monokuma Ina bright light, changing his form into living human form.* "With this, you shall be able to traverse the living realm as anyone else that is alive."

"Traverse? Ma'am, in case you haven't noticed, I'm already dead and I'm sort of tied to Hell. Because sinner, you know?"

Celestia: "Fufufufu~. Atomata of Despair, I bestow upon you a special gift." *A small light hovers over to Monokuma's hand, attaching itself to the back of his hand.*

Celestia: "This is a Warp Crystal, which will allow you to teleport between realms and teleport to any location you desire. From Earth, to Heaven, to any ring in Hell without any kind of restriction. With this, you will be able to return home and live out the rest of your days with your family until it is their time as well."

"........Why would you do this for me?"

Celestia: "You've fought hard for your happiness and for the happiness and well-being of others. I say it's only fair to reward you properly with something that will please you and your loved ones. Is that not it?"

"it's not that. It's just...I don't know. Doesn't feel right. Like, I've done so many bad things to other people. No way I can just return to a normal life after everything."

Celestia: "You know Makoto will tell them everything."

"That's not going to change anything. The people up there won't ever forgive me. Not after after Future foundation and hope's peak. Worse case scenario, they'll accuse Makoto as a fraud and start treating him like an enemy too. or worse. Don't get me wrong. I do want to be with everyone again. With my friends. my family. Mikado and Lucky, my brothers. But...what if I land them in trouble again? I....I don't know."

Celestia: "Your loved ones are willing to carry you along with your sins. Surely you're not going to disregard their feelings, are you?"

"You're not helping, you know. Like, what am I supposed to do? I'm already dead and me going back to Earth isn't going to make life easier for anyone. As long as they know that I'm still alive, then they're just going to keep bothering me and my friends just to get to me." *...........DING*

"wait a minute. 'As long as they know'? Or rather....It's 'if they know'. If they know that I'm back on Earth alive......But if they think I'm permanently dead....Yeah. Yeah, that can work. Maybe I can make this work. As long as the world thinks I'm dead, then they won't come after my family nor my friends. That way, even if I do return to earth, it should be fine if I'm hidden well enough. Yeah."

"Yeah! Hahahaha! Maybe I'll be able to return home after all! Hey, mind if I stay here a bit longer to work out the finer details?"

Celestia: "Of course. be my guess." *Monokuma its there and starts thinking things over. After a while, he nods to himself.*

"Ok. I think I got a decent idea of what to do now. First, I need to make sure that Makoto informs the world of my death and my involvement with the demon tree. I'm sure Monodam, a witness, will be able to make the story more convincing. or maybe I should ask one of the reapers. or that weird Sparkle chick. And now for Mikado....Hmm...."

Celestia: "While you're thinking about this I should inform you that you are not allow to tell anyone I granted you these rewards. They could try to take advantage of you in some ways."

"Well I am in Hell and this place is fully of scumbags, for the most part. Sooooooooo.....Yeah. Can't really tell anyone out in the open. Though, I don't want to leave Mikado in the dark. But I also can't tell him about my plan out of fear of being leaked. if that happens, I don't think I can return to Earth period and then there's what could happen to my family and friends....Yeah. I'm going to have to talk to Mikado about me staying in Hell for the long term. I just hope I can get through to him and make him understand. I would ask him to stay, but I don't want him to waste his life like that. Maybe I can ask Makoto to hire Mikado to give him proper protection from those Kisaragi jerks. Knowing him, he probably could allow Mikado a way in. The last thing I want to happen is for anyone I care about fighting or killing on my behalf. I want them to live their lives happy and free of worry and stress if possible. No more need to spilling the blood of innocence and junk like that....Sigh. This is going to be tough." *The memory comes to an end as Celestia takes her finger off Mikado's forehead.*

"I hope that cleared things up for you, Mikado. I understand your worries and concerns for your friend, which are indeed valid and he understands it too. He just needs to make sure that things will be alright enough for him to return so that no more tragedy comes your way."

*Achlys knocks on Husk's tent, trying to get his attention.*

"Hey. Husk, was it? I need you help with something. Something that's really important." @nastrond-and-valhalla

Husk looked to see Achlys. "Oh, hey Achlys. Sup? How can i help?"

[tempests-bards-and-birds]

i think that one of the most tragic aspects of venti's character is the fact that no matter how hard he tries, no replication that he can make of the bard will ever be perfect because for a single image or concept to be long-lasting and static goes entirely against the nature of the wind.

it has been consistently emphasised throughout the game that "seeds of stories brought by the wind" will be "cultivated" by time - in other words, they will grow, but they will never remain the same as they were when they were first told; to try to remove that element of warping and artistic interpretation that is inevitable as a story is passed on is like trying to bottle up a storm and hoping that'll stop it from damaging the surroundings - instead, no one will ever know about it, and the only thing that it will have left to destroy will be itself.

venti is basically doing exactly this by trying to preserve the bard's memory - the only way to stop it from being warped would be to remove it from any kind of environment where that could happen, which would require taking the story out of circulation, which then means that he is the only living being who knows it in its whole detail and entirety. he understands, however, the fallibility of his own memory, as can be seen in how reminders of it seem to shake him; in his story quest, he seems strangely unguarded after resolving the situation with hans (whose story is massively identical to venti's for a reason - having a mirror can be very useful for storytelling, and genshin relies on it perhaps a bit too much), describing the barbatos statue as "the usual place" despite the fact that for our traveler, it is not (this ties into another theory that i am Not going into here lol). we know that venti prizes being able to keep a certain level of anonymity, with him describing the traveler's high level of intuition as "scary", so for him to show even the slightest level of disregard for maintaining his façade suggests that being faced with the reality of the impossibility of his self-imposed purpose is something that did really bother him (which tbf makes sense now that i write it out).

comparisons have been made before between venti and zhongli wherein the irony of having a god of wind whose appearance is unchanging and a god of stone who is (supposedly, if we assume zhongli's teasing about his own past forms to be reflective of the truth) in contrast constantly shifting is often key, and in a lot of ways zhongli's situation does mirror venti's in many ways; he theoretically has the ability to accurately preserve history as one would by carving it into stone, and yet it is almost as if he lets it slip through his fingers instead - he finds humour in inaccurate historical accounts and allows himself to change, not just physically but in terms of attitude (the whole point of the liyue aq is for him to be able to do this; to live as a mortal after millenia spent overseeing as a god). in many ways venti and zhongli are polar opposites, but the theme of wanting to transcend one's physical constraints, of wanting a state of existence that the other already in theory has, is consistent throughout both.

venti, however, seems to be so much more uncomfortable with this than zhongli is, and this awareness of the issue while still being so bothered by it to the extent that he pushes it away even more, causing the pressure in that jar to by extension increase too, is where the true point of tragedy lies.

maybe, though, by deciding to share the bard's story with the traveler, he is beginning to accept the necessity for change.

[dentos-wife]

Just saw Sonic 3 a second time which allowed me to put this into writing.

After sitting on what it is I like so much more about movie Shadow than the game one (who I also enjoy don’t get me wrong) and I think I hit on two things

Maria feels much less than a plot device and Shadow’s grief is much rawer.

I go over them below the cut and warning this is really long

1) Maria feels much less than a plot device.

Yes she’s no longer ill-*as far as we know* but her illness isn’t a defining trait anymore. In the game project shadow is tied to curing her illness he was created for her and thus you could argue they’ve been tied together since the day he was born which is wholesome and has platonic soulmate vibes and it’s great BUT I like choice. And this whole movies theme is choice. They hammer pretty hard it's all about making the right choices in the end. Well Maria fits that theme too.

In Sonic 3 she of her own volition choose him. We don’t know why she’s with her granddad, she could still be sick and that’s why he takes her everywhere with him we just do not know. But that is no longer important what important is she sees Shadow floating in that little tube and goes over to him, draws a little bunny face. She places her hand on the tube and decides he’ll be her friend and that is so powerful for him when everyone looks at him as some kind of alien freak. She kidnaps him from all the tests they do on him, is the only one who sees him as he is. She even mentions choices when they're looking at the stars after she sneaks them both to the top of the base to look at them. (I don’t like him no longer being a lab creation but I’ll live lol. I still think Black Doom created him, that comet he came down on is very much a Black Doom reference)

But back to Maria. She is also given a character now, she likes music, likes to roller skate, enjoys movies, gets into trouble, makes a little fort it’s very base character to go off of yes but it gives us so much more of a look at the girl she was and the influence in Shadow’s life she was. She’s no longer a protect the planet martyr we know nothing about she’s just…a girl. A young girl with a big heart who meant the world to Shadow and she’s gone. I did enjoy the interactions in Shadow Generations as well and it was about time but Maria in that still feels like she exists to die, to further Shadow's story and in the movie, I don't know how to explain it but she feels more like a real girl than a character trope.

2) Shadow’s grief is rawer and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

In the game Sonic Adventure 2 Shadow is living out a lie, we find out his memories are manipulated by Gerald and once he finally remembers he sacrifices himself to protect Maria’s true wish to live a life filled with purpose and protect the world even if she has to die (and then he was so popular they brought him back yada yada you know the drill)

Again, there’s nothing wrong with it. But so much of it hinders on Maria being this purer than life heavenly lamb that gets sacrificed who we know next to nothing about which eh isn’t a trope I’m fond of. In the movies this is changed to you are who you chose and you're my friend Shadow which I prefer, makes the relationship feel more grounded and real.

Sonic 3 Shadow has no memory manipulation at all. He sees the one person he cared about, the one friend he had die from a tube of his own chaos energy. Yes I do agree they are cowards for not letting her get shot and making GUN not as much of an antagonist, we’ll get to that; but how they had her die instead? From Shadow’s own power? That’s a great compromise. He doesn’t even have time to think about it and is automatically thrown into a liquid prison for 50 years. Who knows how many times that memory played over and over on his head? He says it's all I known for 50 years. Imagine seeing the one person you care about die over and over again it's almost like Shadow was in his own personal time loop but he had no control over anything.

So edgy mcedgestr wakes up in what’s basically a brand new world after suffering for 50 years and everyone is after him, he’s in pain doesn’t know why, is pissed off can’t trust anyone including the blue thing that looks like him; Sonic stepped out of a GUN helicopter he knows he will NEVER trust GUN but he recognizes Gerald who says they’ll get revenge so he follows him because it's familiar to him, and Gerald knew and was close to Maria too.

When Tom is on the brink on death (Which would NOT have been as powerful if we didn't see Tom and Sonic bond for two movies before this so well done) Sonic is PISSED, Shadow feels validated and he sees himself in the other hedgehog; he knows Sonic will kill him because he knows exactly how Sonic feels. He loses to Sonic who kicks the emeralds out of him and accepts defeat- allowing Sonic to take the revenge he wants. And Sonic stops. Sonic who has the exact same rage refuses to give into it. He makes the choice to not kill Shadow out of revenge. Shadow is confused he thought he figured everything out. Sonic's one choice changed his world view.

He remembers Maria’s words about the stars as he sits on the moon with Sonic learning about grief how it never leaves but you live with it and the memories he has aren't a bad thing if he chooses to keep the love in them, a light shines even though the star is gone, the new main quote, VERY different from the game but it works here very well. This time it’s about how those gone are still with you and you can always cherish those memories instead of dwelling on them and yes we all know this it’s the most basic of basic messages but Shadow needs to learn it! Maria, his star is gone but her light still shines on everyone she touched. That’s the beauty of this quote and it works so well with what they did with Shadow.

I would argue that’s why Shadow didn’t have his, “is this what you wanted Maria…” line it’s no longer about what she wants, though there is a great line where he questions what Maria would have wanted, but in the end it’s about the choice Shadow makes what Shadow himself wants, and Shadow decides to accept his feelings. Live with his guilt, live with his grief, live with his happy memories of Maria and use everything in his power to save the world from himself and Gerald’s revenge. Yes in the end he does think he’s going to die, but he’s sacrificing himself with a purpose and understanding for himself, not Maria though she’s still the catalyst. He spent the whole time alive figuring out what he wanted and, he would have died at peace instead of dying vengeful.

But he survives unlike in SA2, (remember to stay for the second scene in the end credits everyone) so we don’t have to give him some silly reason to come back to life. He’s alive and now he can live not for Maria’s wish but for himself. He’s alive and will always feel Maria’s absence, some days will be better than others and he probably needs a good cry but he made his choice for himself and he’ll continue to make more and live in the world. And I think that’s a damn good arc.

As for the rest I do think the movie would have been more powerful as a whole if Gerald wasn’t a loon and they went more into Shadow’s military purpose, showing a change in Gerald over time was he always batshit insane? I like to think he went mad with his grief of losing his granddaughter and feeling used by GUN. Or maybe at 104 he just lost what's left of his brain. But all he wanted was vengeance and he'd use anyone to get it. As he said it's not about what Maria wanted but it's about punishment. Gerald could have even had Ivo who thought the world of him but that wasn't enough he made the choice to value punishment over everything else. This parallel's Shadow in a way Shadow accepting grief and all the feelings that come with it. Gerald refuses and will kill everyone and himself first

GUN was...lol. I do like they don't confuse Shadow and Sonic anymore that was always hard to take in in SA2 but Walters had the lamest death ever if he's really dead. Rockwell they had to set up to dislike Team Sonic and I got the vibe she didn't jive with them since the beginning. So yeah this stuff was meh, Shadow was practically perfect though so I can forgive it

Anyway as a Shadow fan who always wanted more on Maria the person I love this change and I love how much it focuses on not just the choices Sonic makes (and hits you over the head with) but the choices Shadow makes which all comes down to the ultimate choice that started it all. Maria choosing Shadow.

[bluedalahorse]

The Season 3 Erik reveal + four coming of age books with similar emotional gut punches

A post written for YRFavesFest2024, graciously hosted by @youngroyals-events. This is in response to prompts #16 and #12.

credit to @scatteredpiecesofme for the screencaps

Disclaimer: I know not everyone feels the same way about this scene. This is not meant to be a persuasive essay about why you should like it. Instead, I am explaining why I liked it as a dramatic moment. If this is one of your least favorite scenes, this might be a good “scroll on by” post, or one where you put on your “agree to disagree” goggles.

I never trusted Erik. Perhaps it is more accurate to say, I never trusted the version of Erik that was a sunny memory. I was too suspicious of the way he laughs at August’s misogynistic jokes in the first episode, the way we know he was involved in the Society, and so on and so forth. I could feel in my gut there was more to know about him, and I knew that we were going to learn something big in season 2 or 3. This was a moment I was waiting for, but in that way where you wait in dread.

(I will admit the dread was tempered with interest; imperfect, potentially harmful Erik was always a more interesting idea to me than saintly, perfect Erik.)

My first time watching season 1, I was primarily orienting myself through the first three episodes. It wasn’t until Erik’s sudden death at the end of season 1 episode 3 that the series clicked into place for me. That’s when I felt I knew what it was about.

I actually think Wilhelm’s arc is not as much about falling in love with Simon as it is about Wilhelm grieving Erik, often in ways that leave him angry and confused. Wilhelm’s love for Simon is tied up in this—it takes root at the beginning of the series, and then it blossoms in a moment when Simon can be there for Wilhelm in his grief. And Wilhelm loses Erik more than once over the course of the series. There’s the obvious loss that happens in 1.3, but 3.4 is where Wilhelm loses the sense of security he feels around the memory of Erik. As viewers of the show, we can probably guess about Erik’s role in the initiations from the beginning of the season. Even though we know what’s coming, we still hold our breaths as we watch the revelation hit Wilhelm.

And then there’s August. August, like Wilhelm, is also grieving Erik, and it’s here we learn that Erik presided over the initiation that traumatized August and others as first years. This scene recontextualizes so much of what we see from August in the first and second seasons. So many of the things August does are driven by him running away from that moment, or attempting to bury it deep in his memory.

Like many fans, I wish we’d learned more about August’s relationship with his father, but I also wonder if we’re seeing it filtered through the prism of August and Erik’s relationship. Both Erik and Carl Johan were role models for August and influenced his sense of masculine ideals. They were people who made him feel as if he had a role and value—as the heir to Årnäs and as a trusted relative to the royal family. At the same time, they also harmed him in ways that taught him how to harm himself and others. We know what Erik did more explicitly, whereas how Carl Johan treated August is more subtly hinted at. But we can also make some educated guesses.

I don’t think the point of this scene is to pull the rug out from under viewers and say, “See, Erik was the evil one all along; August has a Freudian Excuse for his behavior.” We see plenty of indicators that even Erik struggles within the system he’s destined to rule. We know Erik went to Boris for support, but not what he sought support about. We see him day drinking and wonder if there are reasons behind his reckless driving. And yet, he’s gone before he can give us honest answers about who he is and what his true values are. This is what makes August and Wilhelm’s grief for him so difficult for them to process (not that grief is ever easy.) Who is Erik outside of the crown? And who can they feasibly become, if they’re expected to replace Erik in his absence? The system wants to push them one way, but is that going to bring them happiness?

To me this scene captures so much of what I like about coming of age stories like Young Royals: the moment when a protagonist learns that the world is not as clear-cut as they once imagined it. The person they love is imperfect and did something harmful, the person who harmed them is suffering in their own way, and all of them are caught up in systems much bigger than themselves that laid the groundwork for harm to happen. These are the stories that bring me the most catharsis, especially when it comes navigating thornier, more conflicted emotions.

In the spirit of this post, I’m also going to share four favorite coming of age novels that impacted me the same way this reveal did. These stories are often mentor texts for me when I write Young Royals fic. They’re also damn good reads!

Girl Made of Stars by Ashley Herring Blake

Deposing Nathan by Zach Smedley

A Sitting in St. James by Rita Williams-Garcia

Patron Saints of Nothing by Randy Ribay

I’m not going to summarize each book (I’ve mentioned them in other posts before, and you can easily look them up) but they all feature stories with nuanced characters navigating fraught family dynamics. Most deal with cycles of trauma and abuse. They don’t ignore the influence of systemic injustices, and how power and hierarchy enable abuse and make it easier. And yet, as heavy as these novels are, they also uplift positive connections between humans and the way people find healing and catharsis in the wake of tragedy.

Let me know if you get one from your local library and read it. Maybe we can book club together!

[themsource]

Some Scars Never Heal

Dipper awoken by a nightmare at 2 am wanders the house for a bit to settle his nerves and finds Ford sitting outside on the porch before deciding to join him.

He greets his uncle with a chipper tone, though it's hollow with obvious exhaustion. "Great Uncle Ford, you’re up late. Are you working on a project?"

Ford startles slightly, clearly not expecting the sudden company before composing himself. "Oh, Dipper my boy! No… I just couldn’t sleep."

"…Nightmares?" Dipper asks as he sits down on the wooden step beside him, his legs tucking up under his chin as he wraps his arms around them.

"…you could say that."

"Yeah, I get them too," Dipper sighs, before continuing sympathetically, "Especially since weirdmageddon... It must be worse for you though, I can’t imagine what Bill must’ve put you through before we saved you, how he made you feel."

Ford gives Dipper that tired smile the boy has only ever seen twice on the older man's face and detests so much, as he gestures with the mug he’s holding. "I find a hot cup of coffee and cool night air helps."

Dipper searches his expression and then looks down at the mug for a moment, before slowly panning his gaze up at the stars as he murmurs, "It is nice out here, isn’t it?"

Ford doesn't respond, only nods.

And Dipper is fine with that. He's just happy for the company.

They sit together in companionable silence for a bit before he yawns, feeling his exhaustion catch up with him finally, and reluctantly stands up. He doesn't want to leave his uncle alone, but they have a big day planned with the family in a few hours.

"Well, try to sleep a little. Don’t let Bill win by haunting you with his ghost, he can’t hurt us anymore… at least… I don’t think he can?" Dipper can't help pausing and asking to make sure, "Can an interdimensional triangle come back as a ghost?"

Ford chuckles dryly, "No, I don’t believe so... you’d need the primordial energy that we dub a ‘soul’ for that…"

Dipper chuckles and smiles, relieved that Ford can find some humor even in his obviously dower state despite how morbid it sounds, and reassuringly pats Ford’s shoulder before heading inside.

"Goodnight, Great Uncle Ford."

Once alone Ford looks down at the mug in his hands, his reflection staring back at him almost judgmentally as he hears Bill’s song in his head and recalls how he felt when Bill unfroze him in the 'penthouse' of his pyramid, between the fleeting feelings of outrage and confusion that had overcome him.

Ford whispers silently under his breath, so quietly that he hopes not even the wind can hear him, "…is it wrong that my heart skipped a beat?"

His hands tighten on his mug as he looks back up at the dazzling lights adorning a sea of utter black. The memory of him in this same exact spot within his mindscape so long ago, only with Bill admiring the vast beauty right beside him, burned shamefully into the back of his retinas.

Ford pretends that he doesn't feel the all too familiar adrenal rush of blood in his cheeks as he takes a quiet sip.

[hiraethwrote]

i prefer it, actually

summary: after being called in the middle of the night, megumi comes over to take care of you while you're drunk

[ loner!megumi x popular!reader ]

cw: college au, f!reader, sorority!reader, pure fluff, intoxicated reader, party but mostly going on in the background, throwing up, aged up characters

word count: 2.2k

“Hello?” Megumi answered the phone in a confused haze, the blaring ringtone waking him up from his deep sleep.

“Megumi? I think you should come down here.” The voice that greeted him wasn’t one he recognised, and his confusion only strengthened when he checked the caller ID to see a picture of you.

“Who is this?” He asked, slowly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up in his bed.

In the background, he heard muffled music interrupted by a loud gag. “It’s Kasumi.”

Kasumi? There was something scarily familiar about that name, and after a few silent moments of thought he connected the dots, remembering she was a part of your sorority.

And as the pieces fell together, the concern started to fill his body, serving almost as an alarm clock as his sleepiness become nothing but a distant memory in a matter of seconds. “Is she okay?”

“Well…” Kasumi trailed off on the other end of the phone before another horrible gag interrupted the line. “She’s just really drunk.”

His shoulders dared relax just an tad. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he sighed before another sickening sound he only assumed was you hunched over a toilet bowl. Some of his worry had settled when he knew you weren’t in any immediate danger at least, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep again until he was certain you were safely in bed.

As he promised, fifteen minutes later he walked through the door of your sorority, the party still in full swing as he bullied himself through the thick crowd to get to the stairs.

God, he couldn’t stand this. Too many people shoved into a house where the mere concept of personal space was long abandoned. Obnoxious music that was so loud you were unable to hear your own thoughts — and not to mention how incredibly annoying people got when drinking.

Therefore he could not for the life of him fathom why you loved it so much. Only a handful of times had he accompanied you to parties like this, and you always managed to have a good time. That might be the only thing he has ever found himself liking with these things; seeing how much you enjoyed yourself.

So for the most part, he just decided to stay in when you wanted to go out so he wouldn’t ruin your evening by moping around, constantly checking the time to see when it was acceptable for him to go to bed. He didn’t want to be that boyfriend who stopped you from doing the things you liked just because he didn’t want to.

When he reached your room, his head cleared up as the people and music from downstairs was shut out, transforming into muffled background noise through the floor. He placed three knocks on your bathroom door before it creaked open, spotting the blue haired girl he assumed had to be Kasumi. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning against the doorframe as she opened the door further.

“Thank god you’re here. She’s been begging for you for like two hours,” she groaned, not hesitating to walk out of the bathroom so she could return to the festivities. "I think she's pretty much finished in there, just tired now."

He cleared his throat. “Thanks for taking care of her,” he said awkwardly as she was about to exit your room.

“Of course,” she smiled sweetly. “She would have done the same for me,” and she was gone.

He turned back around, pushing the door fully open to reveal you just in the position he had excepted. Your hair was tied back in a ponytail, makeup slightly smudged from throwing up for who knew how long, a constant little shiver running through your body.

“How you hanging in there?” He asked, a small amused smirk creeping up on his face.

Lifting your head from where it was resting on your arm, you turned to look at him, face lighting up the second your eyes landed on him. “Megumi, you’re here!” You nearly cheered, both hands immediately extending towards him, needy for him to come join you on the floor.

He does as you wished, his hands instinctively stroking away the stray hairs that hung in front of your face, behind your ears. “Feeling okay?”

“Better now that you’re here!” You slurred, flashing your teeth at him in a huge grin. The annoyance and frustration caused by the party below was quickly forgotten at the sight of you beaming at him. Even though you looked tired, appearance tainted by the evening, it did nothing to smother beauty. “I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.” You were clearly still intoxicated, eyelids droopy as you mumbled sentences he could barely make out.

“A little blue birdie told me you needed me, so,” he shrugged, as if it was nothing to think about.

“Awe, baby,” you squealed as you fell forward, head landing on his chest. “You’re too good for me,” you sighed, melting into his body, the heat radiating off of him soothing the shiver present in your own body.

A gentle hand finds your upper arm to give it a light squeeze. “Do you think you can get up?” He felt the movement of your head agree to his request. He stands up first, grabbing ahold of your clammy hands and pulling you to your feet, instantly lacing his arm around your waist when you nearly fell over the second you were stood up. “Easy there,” he chuckled quietly.

“I’m fine!” You rushed in a high pitched tone, grabbing onto him for support, feeling the room spin a lot more now than when you were leaned over the toilet. When you weren’t nuzzled up against his warm chest anymore, the tremble quickly found its way back to your muscles. “‘m cold.”

“You’re cold?” He asked for confirmation. You only nodded, bottom lip sticking out in a dramatic pout. “Okay,” he whispered to himself before letting go of you by the sink before walking into your room to get you something.

“No, not that one!” You whined when he came back with one of your hoodies in his hands, earning you a confused frown from your boyfriend. “Want yours.”

He just rolled his eyes, acting as if he genuinely thought you were being a nuisance — but in reality, his heart did a little skip at the fact that you so persistently wanted to wear something of his instead.

At the foot of your bed he spotted a familiar hoodie, where you’d thrown it after waking up. Whenever the two of you didn’t spend the night together, you made sure to have a piece of his clothing nearby so he didn’t feel so terribly far away.

Could you be considered a clingy girlfriend? Probably — but you preferred the term devoted.

“Thank youuuuu,” you cooed as he simply tilted his head to signal for you to raise your arms. You happily obliged and he pulled it over your head, a satisfied hum slipping out as you hugged your arms around yourself to take in the familiar scent of your boyfriend.

Without saying anything, he grabbed your toothbrush with one hand, and your face with the other to hold it still, fingers softly digging into your plush cheeks. He finds it surprisingly unproblematic to help you brush your teeth, suspecting your drunken state might actually have served as help, paralysing your usual restlessness.

He gently grabbed your hand and guided you back to your room again, but was abruptly halted when you decided to stop dead in your tracks. With pinched eyebrows, he turned to you.

“Babe, I can’t go to bed with my makeup on.” You let go of his hand to retreat them into the sleeves of the sweater, hoping the warmth it usually provided would find you soon.

“Okay?” He asked, nervously moving his hand to his neck, rubbing it slightly as he waited for you to give him the right instructions.

“There’s makeup wipes under the sink,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered under his breath and went to get the wipes. When he returned, he nearly stumbled over your limp body. During his short trip to the bathroom, you had suddenly decided to just lay down on your back in the middle of the floor. With another sigh, he positioned himself on his knees by your head before carefully lifting it into his lap.

He started with your eyes, lightly rubbing the wet wipe across your eyelids. It didn’t take long before he managed to draw a drunken giggle from your lips. “What?”

“You’re so gentle,” you opened your eyes to stare up at him, thinking he was upside down but you couldn’t be too sure as the room was still spinning. The frown — you once had thought was a chronic condition — was very much present.

“I don’t wanna pop your eyes out.”

You only laughed. “You’re not gonna pop my eyes out. C’mon, you can put a little more pressure.” He let out a long and stressed exhale before going back to work, grimacing in fear as he did as you’d told him.

Eventually, the makeup came off, but you continued to lay completely still. You kept your head in his lap, eyes closed and a small smile ever present on your face.

“Did you have fun tonight?” His voice was soft, barely audible — especially with the banging from the bass downstairs seeping through the floor.

“Meh,” you said simply as you shrugged.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you breathed as you open your eyes to meet his gaze again. “You weren’t there.” He snorted, slightly rolling his eyes at your statement, believing you were only lying to make him feel better about coming all the way down to your sorority in the middle of the night.

“Yeah, right. How much did you have to drink?”

“No, Megs, I’m serious,” you giggled as your hands acted on their own, raising to cup his cheeks. “There’s only so much fun I can have when you’re not here.”

He felt his cheeks heat against your hands — you didn’t seem to notice however. He always thought it strange, that even after the two of you became official, it didn’t take a lot of effort from you to bring that redness to his face, a colour that had only grown familiar to his features after getting to know you.

“Sure, so fun having me sulk at your heels all evening.” There’s nothing but sarcasm in his tone as he continued to try and hide his flushed cheeks.

“I don’t mind,” you said softly as you gaze directly into his eyes, his blush only amplifying. “I prefer it, actually.”

His soft eyes roamed your face, lips slightly parted in awe. He still didn’t understand how you, who was so sociable, always the life of the party, beyond stunning, had decided he was the one you wanted to be with. And time and time again you confirmed it to him that it was for real.

Without much more thought, he simply leaned forward to press a tender kiss on your lips, your lips curling up in a giddy smirk. You were unable to contain yourself, breaking the kiss by hiding your face behind your hands, strangling the sweet giggles spilling out of you.

“You still make me nervous,” you said in between the cute sounds that was like music to his ears.

“I make you nervous?” He scoffed. “Alright, you’re clearly still drunk. Time for bed.” He gently tapped your shoulder, trying to get you to lift from his lap.

“You can never take a compliment,” you grumbled, wearing the frown that was more often seen painted on his eyebrows. He didn’t entertain your complaints, merely helping you up before leading you to your bed.

When he was about to turn around, your hand grabbed a hold of his wrist, surprised by the strength in your clutch. “No, you gotta stay here tonight!”

“I’m not leaving,” he laughed. “I’m just going to get you some water,” he said as he grabbed your hand to force you to let go.

“Oh.”

He can’t help but shake his head a little. You were probably the only drunk person he liked — of course, he was biased. During the parties, you were so outgoing, in a way he always admired. And then, when it was time to turn in for the night, you became so incredibly cute.

After having fetched the glass, he returned to see you wrapped up in the covers, having pulled the hood over your head and nuzzled further into the clothing.

A content huff left his nose as he put the glass down on your nightstand before stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers, then he carefully climbed over you. He knew he’d only receive grumpy grunts of annoyance if he tried to shove you to sleep closest to the wall.

The second he closed his eyes, he felt you snake your arm tightly around his torso and burying your face against his back, wanting to consume as much of his body heat as possible. Two light taps on your hand caused you to loosen your grip before he wiggled to turn around so you were now burying your head in his chest instead.

A deep, much needed, breath filled your lungs before you simply melted into him as his arms wrapped around you, humming in satisfaction as his hands slowly began to rub your scalp.

tags (taglist is open) @sad-darksoul, @nyahctrl, @ssetsuka

a/n the layout for these drabbles and short entries will be a little different, but yeah hope you like it. oh, and if you wanna be in the taglist, just lemme know <3 - btw, all warnings will be in the masterpost at all times

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated plagiarism not authorized

[master-of-junk]

Curiosity

🏮Mr. Crawling x Mc

🔞MDNI🔞

Spicy ahead (✅Edited )

_____________________________

A groan left your lips as you finally made it back to the safety of the room Mr. Crawling and you had come to call home.

You had been here for a while. You were beginning to lose hope that you’d ever make it back home. The thought dimmed your spirits a little bit-

Your hand was nudged and you let out a “Huh?” Until you realized it was just Mr. Crawling. He has grabbed your hand and pressed it to his own head, as if telling you to pet him without many words. The action caused you to chuckle a bit and smile.

That was at least one upside to getting stuck here- Mr. Crawling. He has been an important asset to surviving this place, not to mention he can actually get scary when he wants to.

You vaguely visited the memory of when Mr. Stitch kidnapped you.

You had seen a side to Mr. Crawling that day that reminded you that he was probably a lot more independent and stronger then he let on. You heard a huff as he pressed your hand more firmly to his head, you became more present and shoved the thoughts away “Alright- Alright- geez you’re needy today.” He smiled up at you making you melt just a bit “Got clothes!” You titled your head “Did you get something new? Let me see!” He seemed to understand as he pulled his black kimono a little bit “Old clothes Too tattered.” He seemed awfully proud of his new black kimono. It was true it wasn’t tattered but you weren’t prepared for how he had tied it. The chest more open leading down to the sight of his lower belly making your eyes widen a little bit. For a ghost he was pretty easy on the easy. He had a strong physique under the baggy black clothing and long hair, you swore you could see the a happy trail of black hair if you looked close enough!

Without thinking you yelped at him “Oh! Here let me fix this for you-“ your cheeks turning a bit red as you untied the so called ‘knot’ he had tied and readjusted his clothing. He titled his head at your actions, the oddness of them not going unnoticed. You had never cared before and he thought you would at least call him cute or pretty.

You gave his head a gentle pat “There, all done!” You smiled at him before standing and uttering a long sentence in your native language that he didn’t understand. He let out a small huff as he watched you walk away. Mr. Crawling didn’t show it, but he had grown a bit irritated with you. You were so willing to give your affections to smaller creatures, shower them in nice words like ‘cute’ or ‘pretty’. He was even introduced to new things, things you called ‘kisses’ and ‘rubs’.

He, of course, wanted to experience these things, but you never willing gave them to him, and when he would try to ask or do them to you, you would shrink away. He was beginning to think you did hate him.

He crossed his arms, an unusual frown on his face as he listened to you ‘bathe.’ Another thing he didn’t get. You just sat in a container of water. He waited patiently outside the door, contemplating your actions and how to win the affection he wanted when he heard an aired sigh through the door. Mr. Crawling quietly sat up, tilting his head in confusion as he listened, after a few moments he heard another sound from you. It didn’t sound like the sigh from before but still odd and different compared to the usual sounds you had made while staying with him. He gently pressed his ear to the door and heard you let out an almost frustrated growl. Were you hurt?

He quickly panicked before opening the door, you couldn’t react fast enough before he was by your side cupping your cheek “Okay? Hurt?” Your face turned bright red and your eyes widen. Mr. Crawling noticed your expression and noticed your hand clamped tightly between your legs. The other quickly covering your chest “Mr. Crawling!” You managed “Leave! Get out!” Now he was super confused. You had never reacted this way before. He sulked out of the bathroom frowning more than before at how obvious it was to him now that you clearly didn’t like him.

He crawled into the bed and hid under the covers. After a few minutes, you exited the bathroom. You looked around the room and frowned seeing the lump in the bed you two often shared… you walked over “Mr. Crawling?” He sat up a little, the blanket on his head and his expression displaying a sad hurt look. You sat next to him “I’m sorry-“ you corrected yourself “Me sorry. Regret Mean you.” Instead of smiling or giggling, he merely sighed and hid within the sheets again.

With growing concern you put your hand to the lump under the sheets “Mr. Crawling-“ you struggled a bit. You never thought you’d have to explain sexual things to a monsters of all things. You were just so pent up and stress and seeing Mr. Crawling’s v-lines and lower abdomen reminded you all too well of what lies beyond that. You sighed out trying to explain “Very stress.” You put your hand to your chest as he peels out from under the sheets at you “Touch nice. Touch make not stress.” Hopefully he would get the idea.

He gave you a somewhat perplexed expression. You found it cute sometimes just how naive he could be “Why hide touch? Touch here?” You somewhat understood “Special touch. Only me. Not others.” You made hand gestures and he appeared to think over your words. He asked “Why special?” You chuckled a bit “Makes not stress. Only for me and special friend.” He perked up at the mention of a special friend.

He asked pointing to himself “Special friend?” You looked off a bit “Uh-“ you shook your head “No-“ he quickly frowned at you “Hate me?” You looked surprised “What?! No! Of course not! Friend!” He huffed out a bit turning from you “Not special friend.” You pressed a hand to your head. You cursed how obsessed this entity appeared to be with you.

You didn’t want him to think that he wasn’t special to you though, you put your hand against his cheek “Okay- special friend, you.” You watched as he flew up from the bed and turned back to you “Mean it?!” You giggled a bit, you swore if he had a tail it would be flopping against the bed furiously with joy “Mean it. Now happy?” He nodded quickly “Happy! Happy! You special friend!” You blushed a bit. You shook off the words though. He didn’t really know any of this or its implications.

Well apparently you didn’t either, because before you could react, Mr. Crawling tackled you against the bed! You squirmed “Mr. Crawling!” He nuzzled against you “Special friend! Special touch!” You gasped when you felt his lips against your neck. You flinched away “H-Hey- No!” He looked surprised by your outburst before frowning again. You let out another groan upon realizing what he wanted. He wanted physical touch and affection, it was like he was touch starved “I touch you only.”

He huffed at you as you leaned down and kissed his forehead and hugged him. He smiled a bit though hugging you back. He was happy to nuzzle and cuddle with you. You turned off the light cuddled into him “Sleep.” You hoped your arm over his would be enough along with letting him hug you from behind. For a few moments everything was alright and you actually began to drift off into sleep, until he began fidgeting again. You just shrugged it off and ignored him. You were tired and needed sleep.

However, his movements became odd. The touches you felt from behind became slow and more strategic. As if he was caressing your body, you knew you should have sat up and stopped him but the better part of you was curious to see what he was doing. Keeping your eyes shut, you felt his hand gently squeeze your arm before rubbing downward, transferring to your torso. The hand sitting at the crux of your waist before sliding down curiously to your hip. His larger hand then slide across your belly down towards the middle of your legs! You snatched his wrist up stopping it making him gasp! You asked him in a hissed whisper in the darkness “What are you doing?!” He gave you a confused look “Special friend, special touch? No stress you.” You blinked a few times soaking in his words.

He saw what you had been doing and wanted to do it too, he just wanted to help you. You shook your head “No- No-“ you tried to navigate out of this “Touch from special friend different. You not understand.” He huffed at you “You teach me.” He said it like he meant business. You swallowed the lump in your throat, could he even do the things you wanted??? You weren’t even sure he had a heart to pump blood to an erection… you looked down at his lap now curious as well…

You let out a sigh “Fine-“ you could see he wasn’t willing to let this go “Me teach you. Not like stop me, okay??” He smiled triumphantly at your reluctant agreement. You stated “Me touch you first.” He nodded quickly, smiling widely and excitedly at the prospect. He wondered what you were going to do- maybe he’d get a lot of head pats? Or rubs like he had seen you do with small creatures. However his thoughts stopped when he watched you kneel in front of him and lean closer. He titled his head just a bit as your warm lips touched his cold ones. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, he nearly blew a gasket at the proximity and touch, he eagerly wrapped his arms around your waist and quickly kissed back, mirroring your actions. He didn’t remember a lot from his past life but he instantly remembered the odd chill that ran down his spine, your warmth bringing him in like a moth to a flame. He was enjoying himself when your lips suddenly left his making him frown and whine at you. You chuckled a bit “Not done.” You began kissing down his neck and collar your smaller hands beginning to untie the belt that held his kimono together. Your actions puzzled him, he felt this odd sense of curiosity but it was mixed with anticipation. At these new and unfamiliar sensations and feelings, he let you lead watching as your lips trail lower and lower, the lower you went the stronger that odd feeling of want grew within him.

He was surprised when you moved the cloth covering him out the way fully and his eyes spotted the interesting reaction he was having to all this. Yet, he had this desire for your touch. He watch as you gentle got lower, your head began bobbing and he immediately let out a gasp “Good!” He liked this a lot.

You were surprised seeing such a strong reaction from him. Though he seemed to enjoy himself, it wasn’t too long before you heard him “D-Desire you!” You leaned up “Huh?” Before you were abruptly pinned to the bed, his figure looming over you, you struggled a bit “Uh? Mr. Crawling-“ a long tongue rolled out from his mouth as he pressed his face against the crook of your neck panting, the entities long tongue splayed against your neck and collar bone making heat rush to your face, you heard him “Me touch you now!” He mirrored your actions once again but not with the same grace, his desperation and excitement fueling him as he kissed down your torso feverishly. His tongue quickly pressed against you making you let out a small moan, despite your better judgement you allowed him to continue as he held your legs apart and his tongue swirled around the sensitive area drawing out more gasps and louder moans.

You felt him pull back as you panted “O-Okay, that’s e-enough-“ your mistake was not speaking his language as his tongue suddenly pushed into you! You let out a surprised sharp moan as he hit your g-spot. You watched his smile grow as he repeated the action watching your expression change into one of pure bliss, he loved the way your hands tangled into his hair and gripped his shoulder.

Mentally you questioned ‘Why the hell was he so good at this-‘ right after it crossed your mind it was enough send you over the edge “Close! Close! No stop!” He watched curiously as you yelped out “Mr. Crawling!” You gasped and shook a bit! Shuttering as he kept going, he was also surprised at how much wetter you got. After you seemed to come down he pulled his tongue out from you licking his lips, an all too wild grin on his expression as you let your head fall back panting…

You covered your eyes silently wondering how the hell some monsters was able to rock your world better then any human man-

Your thoughts were interrupted again as your hips were suddenly grabbed “W-Wait crawling-“ he was already between your legs, pushing himself into you. He sunk himself all the way into you quickly making another high pitched yelp leave you! You hadn’t had sex in god knows how long, it almost hurt to feel him stretch you out, you panted as he quickly began thrusting into you, you looked up expecting to see his giddy expression like usual but there was more to it, he looked hungry almost desperate. He hugged you closer as he thrusted into you “Please- please-“ he panted into your ear. The pain began to melt into the pleasure with his sharp quick ruts.

You figured that this was his way of expressing his arousal. Though you weren’t going to complain hearing the begging egged you on more “Good! You good!” You fed into it, praising him as you wrapped your arms around his torso kissing him as well. His thrusts became needy and sloppy, but still harsh, he whimpered out loudly “Me need you! me need you-“ you moved your hips against his your own desperation getting to you as you felt that familiar warmth building in your lower belly “Close again, close-“ he grabbed your neck kissing you but you moaned when he pressed his tongue past your lips.

He was almost overwhelming but it was oddly intoxicating as he pulled away “You pretty, cute!” He kissed you again “Me love love love you! Me happy together you-“ his praise was enough to make you cum again, you shuttered but groaned as you suddenly felt him throbbing inside you “C-Close, close!” He couldn’t help it, your walls clenching around him- your eyes focused on him- all your attention- it was too much for him to handle as he desperately tried to keep thrusting into you. He couldn’t be inside you enough!

After a moment of riding out the high, he slowly came to a stop, feeling an odd sense the of satisfaction. Seemingly enjoying the sight of your slick messy folds. He looked back at your expression “You happy? You love?” He titled his head at you once again displaying the expression of a puppy that was excited. You chuckled a bit and pulled him down next to you, kissing him once again “Me love you. Me happy together you.” He gasped and beamed at your words, hugging his arms around your waist. You huffed at him smiling “Now sleep.” He giggled at you laid down next to him and snuggled into him. He knew you both were fundamentally different but as he hugged you closer, he realized that there was no way you could ever leave him after this, he wouldn’t let you, you belonged to him now.

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[hadersversion]

‘tis the damn season.

“so we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend.”

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue! reader

warnings: 18+, SMUT, p in v, fingering, begging, overstimulation, use of babe....let me know if i forget anything lol. ALSO in some places in america, thansgiving eve is literally just a holiday to get drunk in your hometown

your home for the holidays for the first time in years. you've been avoiding rafe, the reason you've been away for so long, but after seeing him again all the old feelings come back. when rafe sends a text one night, you end up in the back of his truck like old times.

i parked my car out front of my childhood home, staring at the old exterior.

somethings never change.

being back in the outer banks felt strange. it has been a while since i have been back, avoiding come home for as long as i can. but with a few begging phone calls from my mom and kiara, here i am.

i knock on my front door and am greeted with a bright smile.

"jj?" i ask, confused.

"welcome home, stranger." he says, with a hug and grabbing my bag.

i walk into my living room and see the pogues, sitting with my mom. a homemade 'welcome home' banner hanging above their heads.

my mom comes over and gives me a big hug. "i thought i would never see this face again." she says with a squeeze.

"boston isn't that far, mom." i tell her but i know she would never leave the outer banks. never in a million years. i turn towards the others and smile. "i wonder who could've put this together?" i say, looking at kiara.

"hey it wasn't all me, pope was the one who brought it up." she says, engulfing me in her arms.

"guilty." pope chimes in, joining the hug. i feel jj and john b join in as well. my family.

we break away and hang out in the living room, catching up.

"don't tell me you went all city on us, y/n." john b pokes fun at me.

"not completely. but it is nice having more things to do than hang on the beach and smoke." i wink.

"who could want more than that?" jj asks, making us all laugh.

"speaking of," kiara starts. "there's a little thanksgiving eve celebration happening at the wreck. just some people from high school. nothing big."

"just a chance to get drunk of our asses and go to dinner the next day hungover." jj says, causing kiara to nudge him.

"what do you say? want to join us?" i look around the room at my friends, all eager waiting for my response. with a sigh, i nod and they all cheer. "thank god, i don't think i could've done that alone."

i smile and nod. it should be fun, it will be. but my brain can't help to wonder if the one person who's kept me away from coming home will be there. no, he wouldn't. not with the pogues. but a part of me can't help but hope to see his face.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

i fix my sweater in the mirror in my room, my body fidgeting from anxiety. it's been a few days and i still can't shake that feeling from my body about being home. sure, i'm happy but this place holds so many memories. memories i wish to bury. i stare at the photo booth picture tucked into my mirror of him and i. i guess i forgot to hide this with the rest of the stuff. i take it off the mirror and sigh, examining it.

almost four years since it was taken. almost four years since we called it quits. and yet, he still haunts my memories. his presence making itself known through cheap beer at the bar, expensive men's cologne at the mall, exhaust that leaves motorbikes as they ride down the street. he's always there, whether i like it or not.

the sound of a horn breaks me free of my thoughts.

"y/n, they're here!" my mom calls from downstairs.

"coming!" i open my dresser drawer and slip the photo in before racing downstairs. i kiss my mom on the cheek and slip out the door, rushing into the van.

"ready to get fucked up?" jj asks with his devilish smirk.

i roll my eyes and laugh. "let's go."

we pull up to the wreck, it's already dark outside and a slight breeze fills the air. we all hurry in, greeted by familiar faces. my name is called from every direction, old friends from high school or the beach. all my fellow pogues who i know and love. when i'm done making my rounds, i head over to our table. everyone has some drink in their hand, beer or cocktail, and they all smile up at me.

"who would've though little y/n y/l/n would be a pogue celebrity?" pope jokes.

i flip him off and slide in next to john b. kiara hands me a beer and i take a sip. "i'm not a celebrity, i'm just one of the only people from this island who actually made it off."

they all make jokes at my despair, teasing me in any way they could when sarah walks up. i feel my stomach flip and i smile at her. "y/n!" she embraces me. "i'm so happy to see you!"

i hug her back and smile. "me too, sar. how's everything been?"

"the usual but i can't complain." she sits next to me and lays her head on my shoulder. "it's been forever."

"it has." i sigh. "it really has."

we all share stories and laugh around the table. we take shots, chug beer, and play different drinking games. just like old times sake.

"i need another beer." i say with a slight slur in my voice, standing up. "anyone else?" everyone shakes their head as i excuse myself.

i walk up to the bar and wait my turn, twirling my debit card in my hand. it could be the alcohol but i feel content and happy to be home.

"y/n?"

until that moment.

i don't want to turn around, i don't even want to accept my fate in this situation.

i know that voice, i could recognize it in a crowd of millions of people. it was the voice that lingered in my dreams, my thoughts.

i turn around and look at the man.

"rafe."

he looks older, his hair buzzed and some facial hair covering his face. but those eyes. they are the same eyes of the boy i loved.

we stood there, not saying a word. just taking the sight of one another in.

"i didn't know you were home." he says, not breaking eye contact.

i nod, biting my lip. "i am, i got home monday."

he chuckles to himself and shakes his head. "how long you here for?"

"till saturday. then i'm going back to boston." my throat feels scratchy and my face is on fire. i want to be anywhere but here now.

his eyes continue to study me. "two more budweiser's, please." he says to the bartender. i open my mouth to protest but he shakes his head. "on me, think of it as a welcome home gift."

the bartender hands me the beer and i smile. i turn back to rafe and tip the bottle to him. "thanks."

"no problem." he clinks his bottle to mine. we both take a long sip. my eyes are desperately trying to find a place to land, ending up on the bright sign above the bar. but rafe's are still on me.

"you okay?" kiara asks as she walks behind rafe. she is my gurdian angel.

"yeah, just waiting for my beer. excuse me." i squeeze past rafe and walk back to my table. i look back at him and smiles. i hate him.

a few drinks more and my ears are ringing. it was loud and everyone was far too drunk. i excuse myself for air outside. there are a few people lingering, smoking cigarettes or waiting for ubers. i smile and take in the nostalgia.

"you know, it would've been nice to know you were home." i hear rafe's voice next to me.

i roll my eyes and look up at him. "oh, would it have been? sorry, i didn't think you'd care." i say coldly. that liquid courage is taking control.

he looks down at me. "and why would i have not cared?"

"hmm, let me think." i put my finger to my chin. "oh, right. 'don't ever contact me again. we're so over. i wish i never met you. blah. blah. blah.' do you want me to go on?" i say to him.

i watch as he processes what i said to him, the words of our last fight. he looks guilty, for once in his life. "that was years ago, y/n. w-we were just kids."

"oh, really? then why haven't i heard from you for the past few years? phone works both ways, rafe." i say, shrugging.

he stands there quietly, i got him.

"how's school been?" he asks, nonchalantly.

"are you for real?" i ask.

"what? i'm being nice." he says.

i huff with frustration. "you are such an ass." i push pass him and walk onto the sidewalk.

"where are you going?" he asks, following after me.

"away from you." i say, not looking back.

i hear him run up behind me and he gently grabs my arm. "y/n. y/n, stop."

i turn to look at him. "what do you want from me, huh? you want to torture me even more?"

he stares at me, hand still on my arm. "what? of course not. y/n, i missed you."

"fuck off." i spit out without thinking.

"you're drunk."

"and you're an asshole." i say, flatly. "you...you fucking broke my heart and you expect me to act like everything is fucking dandy?"

"y/n." he tries to plead his case.

"no, rafe. you don't get to waltz in here and act like everything is okay with us. do you know how much you fucked me over? one day you're telling me you love me and you want to move to boston with me and the next, you're dumping me over the phone." i poke his chest. "i did everything you wanted, i kept what we had between us a secret, i took care of you. and nothing was enough for you."

he looks down at his feet in guilt. "i-i know, i'm sorry. i was...i was fucked up back then. with my dad on my case and the drinking...i wasn't okay. i felt like..." he cut himself off.

"what, rafe? you felt like, what?" i ask.

"like i was going to hold you back, alright?" he raises his voice. "you are too good for this place, for me. i didn't want to hold you back. i loved you too much to do that to you." i stare at him and laugh. "what? what's so fucking funny?"

"you, rafe. you." i sigh. "instead of being a man and handling your emotions, you ran and hid. we could've worked that out. but you were too scared." i close my eyes and shake my head. "goodbye, rafe."

i walk down the street, hugging my body as the wind blows. a weight has been lifted off my shoulders but there's still that feeling i get whenever i think of him. that feeling that i miss him.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

thanksgiving flew by, even though i had a hangover that felt like it would last a lifetime.

i helped my mom clean up the kitchen as the pogues did the dishes and took the trash out. just like old times.

once we were done, we sat outside around the bonfire. you would think after yesterday, drinking would come to a halt but jj found a bottle of vodka in the freezer and mixed it with kiara's apple cider. we all enjoyed each other's company but my mind could not help but wander. my last conversation with rafe ringing through my head.

"instead of being a man and handling your emotions, you ran and hid."

i shake my head and take a sip of my spiked cider. as much as it rang true, there was still that part of me that wonders 'what if?'. the more i thought about it, the more i wanted to pick up my phone.

no, i need to be the bigger person. i'm stronger than that. i can't text him first.

then i felt my phone buzz in my lap.

rafe: hey

i stare at the text and bite my lip. i know i should ignore it, let it go unread. but my fingers work against my brain and type 'hi' back to him. i sit there, eagerly waiting for a response.

rafe: can we talk?

rafe: i'm sorry about last night, i'm a fucking idiot.

rafe: there's so many things i could say to you rn

rafe: but i miss you.

rafe: i wanna see you.

i look around at my friends and sigh, they would be so mad at me for this.

y/n: sure, give me like an hour.

y/n: park down the street at the usual spot.

my friends leave my house, mainly due to me faking another wave of hungover puking. i run upstairs and check myself out in the mirror, i look damn good. when i get his text, i sneak out the backdoor and hurry down the street. i see his truck parked under the big tree, the spot he always parked in.

i open the truck door and hop into the passenger seat. i look over at him, he's still in his dressy clothes. a blue polo that hugged his arms right and khakis that made his thighs look exceptionally big. he knew what he was doing and i can't tell if i hate him or love him for it.

we drive in silence for a bit, his radio playing music faintly. his hands grip the steering wheel as his mind looks like he's on another planet. i play with the ends of my sweatshirt, anxiously waiting for him to do something. anything.

he pulls up to the beach, the spot where we would always come to. it was dark and the waves crashed against the shore loudly. he turns the car off and looks over at me.

"thanks for meeting me." he says simply.

"sure."

"i'm sorry about last night. you went out to have fun and i ruined it, i know i did."

i just nod at him.

"and...you were right. about it all." he sighs, running his hands over his face. "i should've manned up, talked to you about how i was feeling. but you know how i get. i get too in my head and just jump to conclusions. it wasn't fair to you." he looks into my eyes. "these past few years without you have been a living hell and i have only myself to blame."

"are you drunk? high?" i ask.

"w-what?"

"are you not sober?" i ask again.

"i'm sorry, what? of course i'm fucking sober." he says. "why would i not be?"

"rafe cameron...taking accountability? i'm sorry, it just seems so...foreign?" i laugh.

"i'm being serious, y/n."

i laugh again. "oh, i'm sure. and...the sky is green. we live on the planet pluto. aliens exist and so do unicorns!"

he pinches the bridge of his nose. "y/n, i'm telling the truth! god, you always joke around."

"yeah, because i know you." i say to him. "and you would rather eat concrete than admit you are wrong."

"eat concrete?" he asks, with a smirk.

"you know what i mean!" i huff with frustration.

he grabs my hand and stares in my eyes. "y/n, i am fully sober. we are not in another universe, it is not opposite day. i was wrong and i am sorry."

my brain malfunctions as i look into his eyes. "y-you mean it?"

"every word i said."

my brain not working means i experienced a lack of better judgment. i grab rafe by his collar and connect our lips for the first time in years. this kiss, the one i have longed for since i left this place, was the missing puzzle piece i've been searching for in my life. everything seemed to make sense again.

his hands cupped my cheeks as his tongue slipped into my mouth. he was hungry for me and i wasn't going to stop him because i felt insatiable as well. his hands roamed from my cheeks down to my neck and onto my shoulders.

i needed more.

i climbed onto his lap and straddled him. my arms connected around his neck as he pressed against me. i felt his cock hard against his khakis and i wanted it. i wanted it all. i rubbed myself against him, causing us both to moan.

he continued to kiss me until he broke away and looked at me. his puffy lips formed a cocky smile as he brushed his nose against mine. "you missed me."

"shut up." i was itching for more.

"admit it, you missed me. you missed the way i made you feel." he states.

"rafe, shut up and kiss me, please."

"ah ah ah." he shook his head. "not until you tell me."

"you're such an ass." i roll my eyes, trying to catch my breathe.

"yet, here you are, rubbing yourself against me in my truck." he says, kissing my cheek. his lips then go to my ear and down my neck. "i want it all with you, right now, babe. but i need to hear it."

"fine! fuck, i missed you. are you happy?" i groan, needing him.

"very. get in the backseat." he demands. i quickly follow his order, hopping in the back over the seats. he gets out of the truck and opens up the back door, sliding in next to me. "come here." he pulls me back onto his lap and we pick up where we left off. i continue to rub myself against him as he sloppily kisses me. "just like old times." he jokes and i hit his shoulder. "c'mon, don't act like you don't think about it."

"oh, i do. but i bet you think about it more than i do." i smirk.

"probably." he laughs. his fingers fall to the hem of my sweater and he plays with it. "now are we only here to kiss or?"

"why? you wanna fuck me in your truck? just like old times." i say, making fun of what he just said.

"i do, i wanna fuck you right here, right now. it's all i've been wanting to do." he kisses my jawline. "do you want me to fuck you?"

this is what i missed the most, our back and forth.

"yes, rafe. i want you to fuck me." i moan out.

with that, he practically rips my sweater off my body and starts to kiss down my chest. his large hands palm my clothed breast. i bite my lip and let my head fall back, missing the way he affected my body. i felt his hand snake around to the back and unclip my bra quickly.

"show off." i say, out of breathe.

i smirks and connects his lips to my nipple, sucking and licking it. his hand massaging my other. "don't pretend you don't like it."

i smirk and shake my head.

he continues to focus on my tits, going back and forth between the two.

"more." i whisper, eyes clenched shut.

"what was that?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"i need more, rafe. please." i beg.

"look at you all needy for me. i knew you missed me." his hand slipped under my jeans and panties, stopping right at my core. i felt his fingers curl inside me, going in and out. "all wet for me, huh? what a good girl." he pushed in, fingering my cunt, when his thumb found my sensitive bud. he added pressure, circling it, and i felt as though i was seeing stars.

"s-shit." i cry out, moving my hips to try and gain some friction.

"feel good, baby? let me hear how could i make you feel." he picked up his pace and a pornographic moan escaped my lips. it's been forever since someone has made me feel this good. rafe knew my body like it was his own, he knew how to get me going. "there we go, like how my fingers feel?"

"u-uh huh." i nod, mouth hanging open.

his fingers worked their magic, rubbing my clit at a pace that'll make me come undone in no time. "love the way you look on top of me, baby. so fucking sexy." he attached his lips to my tits again and continued fingering me.

i felt on fire.

i place one hand on the window and the other on his shoulder, holding on for dear life. the more he whispered about me and the faster his fingers were going, i was cumming on his fingers before i knew it. i rode out my high, screaming his name. once i was done, i felt him pull his fingers out of my pants, my juices getting all over myself. i stared down at him, trying to catch my breathe, as he popped his fingers into his mouth and sucked.

"just as good as i remember." he cleaned his fingers off and kissed me again. my hands ran down his buff chest and stopped at the bottom of his polo, lifting it up. his gold chain laid against his chiseled body, he was perfect. i felt as though i was in a trance as i began to kiss down his chest. i could feel his groans vibrating in his chest and i smirked because i was the one making him feel this way. "i need to fuck you."

"you need to?" i laugh, kissing lower and lower.

"yes, y/n. i need to bury myself inside of you, please." he pleaded.

"i like when you're the one begging." i bite him lightly, causing him to hiss.

"i bet."

i unbuttoned his khakis and sat up so he could slip them off. his grey boxers were discolored from the precum leaking off his cock. he took his underwear off and his cock sprung out. "i-i don't have protection." he said, mentally cursing himself out.

"well, are you clean?" i ask.

"yes. i-i haven't been with anyone since." he openly admitted.

i felt the darkness overtake my eyes as i lower myself down onto him. his breath hitched as he slipped all the way in. he was deep inside of me, causing a few tears to leave my eyes. but the pain subsided as he started to rock my hips with his hands, moving me back and forth. i picked up the rhythm he started with me and placed my hands on his shoulder to steady myself. i felt the truck rocking back and forth as i did so.

his hands found my ass and rested there. "fuck, i missed your pussy. so good, takes me so well." he kissed my chest as i grinded back and forth.

i felt my finger nails dig into his shoulder as his cock hit all the right spots. i looked down at him and he stared at me in awe, like i was some work of art. "fuck, rafe. you're so big."

i bite my lip as i let my head fall back in pleasure. i ride him fast as i keep saying his name. "shit, y/n. you're such a good girl, you're so hot. you feel so tight."

i connect our lips, i feel his hands tighten around my ass. this means he was close. "i want you to cum in me, rafe." his eyes widen as he opens his mouth to ask for permission. "p-please fill me up. i miss it so much." i say, trying to catch my breathe.

with that, he lets out a groan and my name falls from his lips like a prayer. "y/n." i feel him coming inside me, painting me. it doesn't take long for his thumb to find my clit again. with the extra pressure applied to my overstimulated cunt, i feel my head reeling. the air in the truck is hot, making it almost hard for me to breath. it all feels too much, my body releasing onto rafe yet again.

we sit there, panting with our eyes closed. i rest my head on his sweaty chest and he kisses me gently. he rubs my back, tracing circles into it.

"felt even better than i imagine." he says, his voice gruff.

"you thought about it a lot, huh?" i smirk.

"all the fucking time."

i take him out of me and sit next to him in the truck. the windows are foggy and our hands find each other, holding them. i get a sense of weird nostalgia, from how things used to be with us.

"well that was a thanksgiving to remember." i joke, trying not to feel overwhelmed by what happened.

"'tis the damn season." he replies.

i slowly slip my sweater back on and try to find my pants.

"w-wait." rafe says. "is this...is this it? just a single fuck and you're gone."

i look at him, his eyes pleading with me.

"i go back to boston on saturday rafe, we only have like a day and a half."

i wish we could keep this going, i wish this was how things always were. but i had to think realistically. i have to go back home, i have to move on with my new life.

he grabs my hand and squeezes it. "boston is only an 11 hour drive. hour or two by plane."

"rafe." i say.

"i can't lose you again. i can't, y/n. these past few years have sucked without you. i can't wait until you come home for christmas again. now that i've got you again, i can't risk it."

i sigh and kiss his hand. "i know. i know." i close my eyes and shake my head. "we'll make it work. we almost did it before."

"we can do it again." he smiles sweetly. i kiss his lips gently, laying my hand against his chest.

"you'd do an 11 hour car ride for me?"

"y/n, i'd fucking walk if i have to." he smiles.

i roll my eyes and kiss his cheek. "you're so cheesy."

he lays me back against the truck seats and kisses me. "don't act like it doesn't work for you."

[drewsbraziliangf]

don’t try this at home | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: no one never tells you how much a broken heart hurts. how you feel like you could die from how much pain it causes you and dealing with it mostly alone serves as a constant reminder of what life could've been.

a/n: Here’s part 2 of nothing to say when heaven falls, heavily inspired by ‘in the kitchen’ by Renee Rapp. I want to thank you all sooooo much for the love on the first part I’m still taking it all in💖

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

It had been seven months since the both of you broke up - more like you decided to call it all off and he just watched.

A part of you felt broken beyond repair. It felt like everywhere you looked you could see his stupid blue eyes and damned smile. As if your brain couldn't cope with his absence anymore and began to force you to picture him everywhere you went. Wether it was in someone holding the door for you, a stranger complimenting your hair, a song on the radio that you knew he’d sing along as he drove. It felt like you were dancing with his ghost. Like life happened around you but you were stuck in the kitchen where you last saw him. It was just you and the bittersweet memories.

You never knew how his family took the news of your break up, Brooke was the one who reached out to you and said that she was sorry things had happened that way. But after that everything was radio silent and you preferred it that way. It hurt less when the living reminders of him weren’t too keen on keeping up with your life anymore. They had no reason to do that anyway.

But nothing hurt more than when you began to call everything off with the contractors. The venue, the buffet, the band that would be playing, the decoration crew, photographers and wedding planners. That broke you because you could feel their pity through each and every single call. Like every time you dialed a number, the knife was piercing the open wound again.

It didn’t take long for you to move back into the apartment you rented before you had moved in with him. Slowly life was stable again. Wake up, walk in the park, work, diner, sleep. Repeat.

You also deleted most of your social media profiles and created brand new ones. You didn't want to think of how long until people realized that you were cutting online ties to any one connected to him and they started asking questions. You wanted to remain invisible at last.

Still that wasn't enough. Every other day when your best friend, Frankie, posted a picture or a video where you were in she would immediately tell you that he had liked it. Every time for the last month and a half. You didn't know if you liked to be informed of that or not, if you were honest.

Sometimes you hated yourself for leaving like you did, but in most days you asked yourself how you managed to stay that long? Of course you loved him and was one hundred percent ready to be with him in the long run, but the sudden dismiss of your relationship as soon as Odessa was in the picture was a real deal breaker. Even if you had tried to ignore and move past it, both of them seem to keep on pushing your buttons more and more.

Moving back to this apartment was a blessing and a curse. You were glad that the lender was a nice lady and accepted your application again. You loved the neighborhood and the neighbors, so you were relieved that this part you were able to recover.

Unlike the place you shared with Drew, this one barely had memories of him. So it was easy to ignore his absence in your home. The thought of your shared apartment brought a strange kind of pain to your heart. So many plans, memories and dreams that you for your future now sat alone. All of them waiting for a different kind of closure - one you weren’t sure they’d ever get.

There were pieces of furniture that used to decorate that address that you had brought with you. And on them you could feel him linger, like he was a ghost lurking by the corners waiting for you to acknowledge him again. You never did.

Weeks came and went as the breeze that passed by. None of them too significant. One failed date here and there, bar trips with Frankie, catching up with family members. Routine wasn’t hard to follow when you didn’t have anything else to focus on, it gave you a sense of normalcy. That’s how you found yourself sighing at your friends words on the speaker phone.

“Come on, it will be fun!” She points out, “And you might even find someone you’ll like.”

Frankie had been trying to convince you on the past few days to go to this party in a private club that she was invited and could take a plus one. You did enjoy going to some bars but clubs were never your scene, but you knew that with her insistence you’d end up caving in soon or late.

“Frankie, you know that I don’t enjoy this kind of things too much,” you argue as you serve yourself some pasta. “Besides, I have that presentation at work that I need to focus on.”

“That’s not coming up for another two weeks, I’m sure you can take one day to live. You’re young and gorgeous, you shouldn’t be locked up on a Friday night.”

You giggle at that. Ever since you told her what had happened with your previous relationship, she made it her mission to get you to meet as many guys as possible. Half of the times you managed to back out and the ones you did you’d find yourself under someone you were sure that you’d only see once.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” You ask with a small sigh as you shake your head.

“Be ready by nine, hun.” She says, and you can clearly hear the excitement in her voice, and then she hangs up.

This was everything you didn’t know you needed. The sweaty bodies dancing on the main floor, loud chatter all around and the strong smell of alcohol surrounded you.

Everyone seemed pretty in sync with each other here and, as Frankie held your hand, the both of you headed to the bar. When you arrived, you realized that the both of you had a very different perception of what small was. This place had at least one hundred and twenty people in, all with different styles and ages.

Frankie was taller than you, with legs and a waist to die for. She drew attention anywhere she passed by with her long blonde hair, at work people called her a bombshell, since she did look like a modern version of Gisele Bündchen. You became friends not long after you moved to Connecticut. As it was closer to New York and your then fiancé, had many meetings and events in the city. Both of you working in a corporate position at one of the many offices that were spread downtown. As the two of you were closer in age, it didn’t take much for a friendship to blossom between you both.

“I’ll have two caipirinhas,” she said to the bartender with the cutest little accent.

At the name of the specific drink from your native country, you looked around and realized that the party was somewhat tropical themed, so having a drink that was heavy on lime and sugar made sense.

You were glad that your outfit wasn’t standing out too much. The skirt barely covered your behind, but somehow the soft fabric made you feel comfortable as it wasn’t clinging to your skin as a the leather option you tried earlier would. Summer was insanely hot this year and the less the better.

Once your drinks arrived, she handed you one and the both of you walked towards one of the empty seats a little far away from the bar.

Conversation between the two of you flew lightly and it was always good to talk with Frankie. She understood you in ways no one ever had, there was never judgment coming from her. Even when you broke down in front of her when your relationship ended. She was your family away from home.

She also felt confident in sharing with you her fears and struggles as a single mother. Her boyfriend had passed away a year and a half ago in an accident and left her with a little boy to raise. Hayden her pride and joy and you knew how hard she worked to provide him with the best there was. You were more than glad to help her whenever she needed, you loved the both of them endlessly.

As the hours passed by the party became more packed than it was when you arrived, now you could barely walk between the damp bodies. So that made your trip to the bar for new drinks twice as long.

The bartender acted on automatic as he took your order once more, and for a moment you felt bad for coming here again. So many voices and sounds around you that you questioned yourself how he was able to understand each order correctly.

You tapped your colored nails against the glass countered as you waited, trying not to focus too much on what was happening around you. And that was how you felt it before you’ve seen it.

The strong smell of a very specific cologne. You didn’t dare to turn your head as the smell flooded your senses, hopefully it would be just a coincidence, right? I mean, what are the chances?

But it seemed like you have zero support from the universe tonight because the voice ordering a Sazerac besides you was very familiar. Familiar as you had heard it groaning in your ear as your legs were wrapped around someone’s waist.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Was it too late for you to make an escape? Thankfully, the spot you and Frankie were sharing was to your left so you looked back in that directly only to see her wide eyes staring right back at you.

Fuck.

Where the hell was this bartender?

You looked ahead again and allowed your eyes to briefly look down to your right. That goddamned gold signet ring.

Fuck.

Suddenly you didn’t want to drink anymore. Not when you felt a very familiar gaze burning into you.

No escape.

💖taglist💖: @emmaafinchh @rafecamerons-national-anthem @blveeeeeee @a-j-stuffs @maybankslover @lovelylove268 @cooper8224 @esquivelbianca @dreamybabbyy @lulubabii @idiotussupremus @drewsphswife @ietss

tumblrs a hoe and it wasn’t letting me tag some of y’all 🫠

[goldsainz]

# CS55 — FAREWELL, ROSSO CORSA !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ carlos’ journey at ferrari has come to an end, you’re not sure you’re ready to deal with the aftermath.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ ferrar!engineer!reader, angst, bittersweet ending.

003. NOTE !

✯ i listened to long live (taylor’s version) on repeat. also i’ve been dreading this moment, i wish i could explain better how bittersweet it feels. i know he will do great things, i just wish they could still be with ferrari. anywho, i am happy for lewis too, just let me mourn in peace. (also i couldn’t be asked to listen to the radios of the races so just bear with me).

word count : 2,3k

The Abu Dhabi night was eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that settles after the end of something momentous. The paddock, which had been alive with cheers and fireworks just hours ago, was now dim and hushed. The last race of the season had ended, and with it, Carlos Sainz’s chapter at Ferrari.

You stood in the garage, the familiar hum of machinery winding down as the team dismantled the cars and packed away the remnants of a long season. The Ferrari red that had been your world for years felt heavier tonight, more poignant. 

Carlos leaned against a workbench nearby, his race suit tied loosely around his waist, his hair still damp from the champagne. He looked at you, a quiet kind of sadness in his eyes. The moment you had both avoided all week loomed large now, inevitable in the space between you.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Carlos said softly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, your chest tightening at the sight of the sadness in his dark eyes. “And miss this? No chance.”

He chuckled, but it was humorless. “This doesn’t feel like a night worth staying for.”

“It is,” you insisted, stepping closer. “It’s the end of something big. That deserves a goodbye.”

Carlos swallowed, nodding slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing. “It’s strange,” he admitted, his Spanish accent heavier with emotion. “You dream of wearing this red suit as a kid, and when you finally do… it becomes your identity. Leaving feels like losing a part of myself.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his forearm. “You’re not losing anything, Carlos. You’re taking it with you—every moment, every lesson, every triumph. It will always be a part of you.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his brows knitting together as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. “And you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Will you be a part of me too?”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. You’d been an engineer first, a loyal member of the Scuderia, but somewhere along the way, Carlos had become more than a driver to you. He had become a friend, a confidant, and—if you were brave enough to admit it—someone who held your heart.

“Always,” you said, the word escaping you before you could second-guess it. “You think I’ll stop yelling at you over the radio just because you’re on a different team?”

Carlos laughed, the sound warm and genuine, a reprieve from the melancholic undertone of the night. “I’d miss it if you did,” he replied, his hand covering yours.

The silence that followed was softer, less heavy, as if the shared weight of your memories had settled between you like a quiet truce.

And oh, there were so many memories.

Bahrain, 2021

The first race of the season, and Carlos’s first with Ferrari. The garage buzzed with nervous energy, the scent of burnt rubber and engine oil filling the air.

He had been confident, his signature smirk in place as he suited up, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. It was his debut for the Scuderia, a dream realized, and the pressure was immense.

“Relax,” you had told him. “It’s just another race. You know how to do this.”

Carlos had smiled at you, his eyes soft with gratitude. “It’s not just another race. It’s Ferrari.”

When the lights went out, the race unfolded like a storm. Carlos fought relentlessly, slicing through the midfield with calculated aggression. The radio crackled with updates, his determination palpable in every breathless “copy” that followed your instructions. His P8 finish may not have been headline-grabbing, but it felt monumental—proof that he belonged.

Back in the garage, his grin was wide as he found you amidst the chaos. “Not bad for the new guy, huh?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with pride and relief.

You shook your head, unable to suppress your smile. “Not bad at all,” you replied. The way his eyes softened, gratitude bleeding through the teasing, made you realize how much this moment meant—not just to him, but to you as well.

Silverstone, 2022

The radio crackled with your voice, barely containing your excitement. “P1, Carlos! P1! You did it!”

The cheers in the garage erupted as Carlos crossed the finish line. His first win with Ferrari. Your first win with him. It had been a chaotic race—strategy calls that could have gone wrong, moments of doubt as Perez loomed behind him. But Carlos had held on.

When he stepped out of the car, his face was radiant, a mix of disbelief and triumph. The crowd roared as he lifted the trophy, his grin infectious. Later, with the champagne haze lifting, he approached you with a glass in hand, his grin now softer, more reflective.

“We did this,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Not just me. Us.”

You had laughed, your heart swelling with pride. “I just yelled in your ear. You did the hard part.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

And for the first time, amidst the noise and celebration, there was a quiet understanding between you—a closeness that went beyond the driver-engineer dynamic.

Singapore, 2023

It had been a flawless drive. Under the dazzling lights of Marina Bay, Carlos broke Red Bull’s streak, taking the win in one of the most challenging races of the year.

The garage had been electric with energy, the team shouting and cheering as he crossed the line. You couldn’t contain your grin as the radio crackled with his voice, elated and disbelieving. “We did it! Holy—thank you, team. Thank you!”

Later, in the cool night air, he had found you standing by the pit wall, gazing out at the now-quiet track.

“Celebrating alone?” he teased, stepping beside you.

“Just soaking it in,” you replied, turning to him. “That was… incredible.”

Carlos had leaned against the wall, his smile soft. “You’re the one who believed we could do it.”

“I always believe in you,” you said simply, and the way he looked at you then as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world, and it left your heart racing.

Australia, 2024

Carlos had insisted on racing, appendix surgery be damned. He was stubborn, determined, and entirely unwilling to sit on the sidelines.

“You’re insane,” you had told him in the days leading up to the race, your voice filled with equal parts frustration and admiration.

He had shrugged, his smile cheeky. “Maybe. But I’m not missing this.”

Carlos’s win in Melbourne was nothing short of miraculous. Just weeks after undergoing an emergency appendectomy, he returned to the grid, defying every expectation.

In the parc fermé, you rushed to him, barely holding back tears when he emerged from the car, sweat-soaked and visibly drained. You rushed to him, your relief spilling over in a trembling voice. “You just had surgery, Carlos!”

He laughed, though it was strained. “I told you I’d be fine.”

THat night, as the team celebrated, Carlos sat beside you, exhaustion evident in his features. “I couldn’t let you down,” he said simply.

“You never could,” you replied, your heart swelling with pride.

Baku, 2024

The crash had been brutal.  Carlos crashed into the wall at high speed, and your heart stopped when the screens showed the wreckage. You barely breathed until you heard his voice over the radio, shaky but alive.

“I’m okay… Sorry, guys.”

When you found him in the medical center, sitting on the examination table, bruises blossoming on his arms. “You should see the other guy,” he’d joked weakly, but the exhaustion in his eyes betrayed him.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you’d said, your voice trembling.

Carlos had reached for your hand then, his grip surprisingly firm. “I’m okay,” he’d said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I promise.”

But later, long after the debriefs were done and the lights in the paddock dimmed, he found you sitting by his car, running your hands over the damaged bodywork. He sat down beside you, the silence heavy between you.

“You care too much,” he said, a hint of teasing in his tone.

You looked at him, your chest tightening. “Someone has to.”

He didn’t respond, but the way he leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, said everything he couldn’t.

The weight of the memories settled between you like the remnants of a storm. Carlos let out a soft sigh, dragging his hand through his hair as he leaned against the workbench, his eyes fixed on the car that had carried him through countless battles.

“I knew this would be hard,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, but still too far for the ache you felt. “Because it’s not just the car or the team,” you said gently. “It’s everything. Every moment that made this place more than just work. Every person who made it feel like home.”

Carlos’s gaze shifted to you, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes was almost too much to bear. “You made it feel like home,” he said, the words tumbling out as though he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

Your breath caught, the honesty in his voice cutting through the layers of professionalism you’d both worn like armor for years. The memories, the laughter, the quiet moments shared in the garage or on long flights to the next race—they all rushed back, forming a mosaic of the bond you had built.

“Do you remember Las Vegas?” he asked suddenly, his lips curving into a faint smile.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. “How could I forget? The strategy went out the window, and you decided to play hero.”

Carlos grinned, the expression lighting up his face despite the sadness that lingered in his eyes. “We still got P3, didn’t we?”

“Because you ignored me on the radio and took that insane risk,” you shot back, though there was no malice in your tone. “I yelled at you for fifteen minutes straight after the race.”

“And then you brought me a coffee the next morning,” he countered, his grin softening into something more tender. “Said I’d need it if I was going to keep making you crazy.”

“I didn’t say I forgave you,” you teased, though your voice betrayed the fondness you felt.

He shook his head, his laughter fading into a comfortable silence. He looked back at the car, his expression thoughtful. “It’s funny,” he said after a moment. “The races, the wins, the crashes… they all sort of blur together… But moments like that? I’ll remember them forever.”

The words settled between you, heavy with meaning. You wanted to tell him that you felt the same, that the moments you shared with him—both big and small—had become a part of you in a way you couldn’t put into words. But the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak.

Carlos turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “What about you?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady. “When I’m gone, will you remember me?”

“Carlos,” you said, the weight of his question making your voice tremble. “You’re unforgettable.”

The corners of his mouth lifted into a small, bittersweet smile. “You say that now,” he said softly. “But life moves on. New drivers, new challenges. It’s easy to forget.”

You shook your head, stepping closer until you were standing directly in front of him. “Not you,” you said firmly. “Not the way you made us believe, the way you made me believe. That’s not something you forget.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You always believed in me,” he murmured. “Even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

“I still do,” you said, your voice breaking slightly.

Carlos reached out, his hand brushing against yours before curling around it. His grip was warm, steady, and so achingly familiar that it brought tears to your eyes.

“I wish I could stay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I wish you could too,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet stillness of the garage. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, a small, tender gesture that spoke volumes.

“I don’t really know what’s next,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “But I know one thing.”

“What’s that?” you asked, your own voice trembling.

“I’ll carry you with me,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “Wherever I go.”

Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his words leaving you speechless. All you could do was squeeze his hand, hoping he understood everything you couldn’t say.

Carlos smiled then, a small, bittersweet curve of his lips. “Goodbye, mi ingeniera,” he said softly, the nickname laced with affection and finality.

“Goodbye, Carlitos,” you whispered, your heart breaking even as you smiled through the tears.

As he walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the paddock, you stood there, the hum of the empty garage your only companion. And though your time together had come to an end, you knew that the memories—the wins, the losses, the moments that had defined your journey—would stay with you, etched into your heart like a scarlet flame.

Carlos Sainz had left Ferrari, but he would never truly leave you.

[lulujeno]

finding out you sleep with a plushie

— nct dream ᡣ𐭩

cw : none! 100% fluff ^^

a/n : my tumblr debut yay! tried to make it as gender neutral as possible so i hope you enjoyyy

mark:

came home late from practice and found you sleeping on the couch with a winnie-the-pooh plushie tucked under your arms

first time seeing you sleep with the plushie despite knowing that you can't sleep without it

takes note of it for future occurrences

going on a flight? road trip? staying at your friends place? he will for sure remind you about the plush

when you forget the plushie at his place he will have it sitting on his bed against a pillow (sometimes 'reading' one of his books)

every time he sees winnie-the-pooh now he will take a quick pic of it to send to you

"yooooo why this lowkey looks like you"

doesn't forget to remind you that you're cuter tho

poor markie was so panicked when he couldn't find the plush after you texted him that you left it at his place

had a whole apology written down knowing how precious it was since its your childhood plushie

promised to buy you the exact same one and is basically crying now because he knows that it won't be able to replace the one you had

luckily he found it under his bed so we're all good!

renjun:

you were taking a nap on his bed when he saw you hugging a duck plushie

takes a quick pic for memories sake (and to tease you about it in the near future)

since then his little notes for you include a small duck doodle on it

"left early for practice 𓅭" "leftovers are in the fridge 𓅿" "goodluck for the interview today 𓅹"

when he's overseas for schedules he'll find something with ducks on it to give to you as a little souvenir

kisses both you and the duck when he sees you asleep after a long day (it calms him down)

would ask who's cuter, him or duckie?

you jokingly say duckie which causes him to nag to your plushie about stealing his partner

ducks are now his new favourite thing to draw (lyric sheets are his no. 1 victim)

when you couldn't find the plush he offers himself as something for you to cuddle with

resulted in him getting smacked and proceeding to help you find the duck

gets sulky after, saying that hes better at cuddling than the "piece of fluff"

you coo at his jealousy over a stuffed toy and cuddle the both of them

jeno:

he arrived at your place a little later than usual and sees you tucked in with a black bunny

he coos at how adorable the sight is and takes a picture to set as one of his many lockscreens of you

noticed that its the bunny he bought for you before he went on tour for tds2

"if you miss me just cuddle the bunny okay? he has black hair like me so it wouldnt be that much of a difference"

obviously cuddling a grown man and a 31cm plushie is different but what can you do when he's halfway across the globe?

also the type to kiss you and your bunny goodnight

caught him doing it one day and now try to stay awake long enough to catch him doing it again

you fail to do so since his schedules always end soooo late f u sm!!

would give your bunny a wash once every few months since the bunny is a representation of him and he takes personal hygiene very seriously! (his words, not yours)

the bunny would have a new ribbon tied to its ears, depending on what colour his hair is this time (always praying for the pink or white ribbon to come back one day)

gets jealous that you cuddle the bunny more than him

you'd get back at him saying that he's the one that bought the bunny

haechan:

could not shut up when he realised that the plushie you couldn't sleep without was a brown bear

teases you to no end because everyone knows the he is the og brown bear

he finds it too cute that you need a mini him to sleep

"awwwh, you're so in love with me that your plushie is basically me"

you tell him that its just a basic bear, theres no deeper meaning to it

you did buy it because it looks like him but he can't know that! the teases will be insufferable

doesn't care if it had another name before hand because it is now haechan jr.

if he sees the plush on the floor he'll pick it up and tuck it under your arms

the type to tell the little guy to take care of you in your sleep

you'd buy a mini version for him to bring around for schedules and tours

gives you updates about mini haechan jr. every second

practice room? recording studio? m/v shoot? fansign? filming 7llin? you will be getting updates!! not missing a single one

would post haechan jr. and mini haechan jr. on his instagram as a soft launch

it's a little too soft but its okay since you both want to keep it on the downlow anyways

jaemin:

found you sleeping one night with a pink bunny hidden under the blanket next to you

was cooing at how cute the sight was

also one to take pics because that's his partner!! why wouldn't he?

had to hold himself back from pinching your cheeks and opted to pat your head instead

will ask about it the next time he sees you and wont stop telling you how cute you are

you left it at his place once and suddenly theres a ribbon on your bunny's ears (i wonder who added it)

caught him having a full on conversation with your bunny a few times damn your bf is weird

basically treats the bunny like his child at this point

will remind you to bring your bunny when going on overnight trips with him

will not stop taking pictures of the bunny (he has a whole file for it on his phone btw)

"aigoooo look how adorable she is"

"awww both my babies look so cute I have to take a pic"

also one to send you pics of things with bunnies on it when on tour, buys it for you too sometimes

his cats loves bitting everything, including your bunny

makes sure that its as far away from luna, lucy, and luke after he caught them trying to bite on it

you're now 100x cuter in his eyes and he wont shut up about it

chenle:

slightly smiled to himself when saw you bring a dumbo plushie the first time you slept over at his face

he bought it so of course you'll be sleeping with it

why dumbo? because he has big ears and you're nosy as hell (his words btw)

you got sulky when you heard the reason and he corrected himself and said that it was because he was a yapper and you're the listener instead

starts calling you dumbo and the plushie dumbo jr. instead

would also ask to pick between him and the plushie

got so offended when you picked dumbo

"i am THE zhong chenle, who wouldn't choose me?"

would replace the plushie with himself after you sleep since he's petty like that, he wouldn't let a stuffed toy win over him

but would also put dumbo in between your arms if he wakes up first in the morning (it's to keep you company while he's cooking breakfast)

sends you pics of daegal and dumbo together like a proud dad

he's still chenle though so dont expect your plushie to get the same dad treatment as jaemin

the type to get you more dumbo related items since dumbo is the only plushie you sleep with

jisung:

his heart melted at the sight of you sleeping on the couch with a hamster plushie squished against your cheeks

if that man wasn't a simp for you already then he is now

needs a few seconds to just admire how cute you were for faling asleep while trying to wait for him to end his schedules

he's not one to bring it up directly, but that doesn't mean he won't tease you about it from time to time

probably annoys the members (read: chenle) about how adorable his partner is when cuddled up with a plush version of him

he's so down bad but you can't blame him for being in love

took him a few nights to realise that its the plushie he bought for you when you visited him during smtown live in tokyo

got so shy and couldn't contain his smile when he realised it

would ask you if you've given the hamster a name yet and when you said you haven't he suggested 'hamster'

you don't have the heart to tell him how corny it is so you agree to it

you both are down bad!!!!

if he sees the hamster on the floor he'll dust off any possible dust before tucking it under your arms again

takes a picture to make it last longer

you leave the plush at his place on accident once

send you a message saying that he can't believe you just forgot your son like that

takes a pic of him cuddling the hamster to show that he is being taken care of no ones focusing on the doll when his hands are right there

[tealvenetianmask]

I was confused at first about why the writers chose "infester demon" as Rolando's identity, rather than something like "possessor" or . . . idk . . . anything else.

So let's see. An infestation takes over a place and often destroys it (think about termites in a house or an invasive species in a forest or a body of water).

Rolando's specialty is not just taking over his victims' bodies to use them. He moves in, explores all the dark crevices of their minds, and takes over all of it.

It starts small . . .

And quickly goes out of control.

Digging deeply into memories for ammunition, removing the host's connection with their present reality.

Rolando is portrayed as horrifically and physically invasive.

He goes right through Blitz, knocking him violently to the ground, and once in his mind, ties him up, licks his neck, holds his eyes open . . .

He brings forward the worst memories Blitz has and makes sure they consume him so that Blitz becomes completely engulfed and loses control of his mind and body. The possession is horrifying because Blitz's movement and fighting style change completely. The infester has moved in and completely overtaken the previous inhabitant.

Rolando infests his victims. And the way to get him out? Make the environment inhospitable to him (while thankfully the other inhabitant, Blitz, "can handle it."). Like putting down poison around the foundations of a house to get rid of termites.

It's an apt metaphor too: trauma can be like an infestation.

The adverse experiences come in and change neural pathways in our brains, intertwining themselves with our very ways of experiencing the world, with our senses of self.

We can fight trauma with all sorts of things, and it varies wildly person to person. In this situation for Blitz, a supportive friend who's able to tell him the reasons why he's so valuable to her, who's willing to physically beat the infester out of him. Who can help him build new, stronger connections in his brain, memories that strengthen him rather than break him down.

But while Rolando seems to be gone, Blitz's trauma isn't. Like many real infestations, it lurks in the shadows, weakened but ready to try again to take over when it gets another opportunity.

[artsy-hobbitses]

In truth there is no better place to be Than falling out of darkness still to see Without a premonition Could you tell me where we stand? I'd hate to lose this light Before we land And when I feel like I can feel once again Let me stay a while Soak it in a while If we can hold on we can fix what is wrong Buy a little time For this head of mine Haven for us

One of the things that I adore about Ties That Bind was the journey that Preston 'Prowl' Wan took to become a fully-fledged character, where he initially began as simply a mirror of IDW Prowl. And to honour that development, the man whose compassion is no less real for being learned rather than innate, who sees numbers and the faces behind them with the same crackshot clarity, and who believes not in gods or fate or a higher calling but in people, and in you Jazz, has earned a brand new character sheet! His old sheet can be found here And below, you'll finally find his full story!

Preston Wan Peirong remembers little of his childhood, which is perhaps for the best in some aspects; Hard to tell the truth from a lie in a memory when one doesn’t know how many times they have been ‘rewritten’.

However, what he can tell you with unnerving clarity was the coldness of it all. The sterility. The unquestionable sense of order and obedience to the system he was told kept the world from devolving into chaos after it narrowly avoided total annihilation. 

As a cold construct, Preston was a part of a batch commissioned specifically for the law enforcement division and grew up in the youth wing of China’s Public Security Academy in Beijing. Here, he was trained to become a police officer from the day he was old enough to respond when the numbers under the barcode stamped on his neck were called out: P7031 Names weren’t given; Names had to be earned. 

Every aspect of his life and that of those in his batch was strictly regimented down to the last minute; Food calculated down to the last calorie for maximum performance with minimum waste to funding. Lesson room, shooting range and dorm temperatures kept frigid to ‘sharpen the mind’. The text which met his gaze, the lessons which rang in his ears, the words that came out of his mouth when he was permitted to speak.

He learned early on what his purpose was in the world, and had it drilled into him how integral purpose was to keeping the system running; Everyone had a purpose, everything had its place, and as long as the people understood both, order would be maintained, and order had to be maintained to keep the peace for the good of the many. Sometimes, yes, that meant oiling the gears. Other times, it was hammering down stray nails.

That purpose drove him, and by seven, indoctrinated him so thoroughly that he didn’t question the stinging in his knees when he was ordered to kneel on rice grains during his lesson drills, or his own hunger when ordered to go without meals until he’d learned to disassemble and reassemble his weapon at a speed which put officer cadets to shame. 

At eight however, the sterile and orderly world he knew within the academy walls began to crack; Sitting on the top of his batch, it was decided by the academy trainers that he needed more one-on-one tutelage after class hours. It was decided that he needed a handler. 

Tan Yumei was a former soldier; a renown crackshot with steel in her eyes and in her bones from years in service to the state; The kind that made her sit up straighter when the offer was made for her to become a glorified babysitter—in her words—to what had to be the world’s best behaved boy. 

Asset, the interviewer would correct her. Not a boy; an asset. Our asset. 

The promise of a job in the academy which would come with pay and medical benefits which far eclipsed her government pension was too tantalizing to pass up, and she took on the child known as P7031 under her wing. 

She was to train him in field work and help with his assimilation into society; the silo of the academy gave him the skills necessary, but could only do so much to help him function as part of the system. 

As often as she was told to treat him as an asset, a tool rather than a child, that proved easier said than done as Yumei found herself warming up to all four-foot-six of stoic, stony-faced, serious-as-a-heart attack P7031. 

It started small and innocuous; ice cream as a treat for a job well done, something completely novel to the child. No sense using the stick exclusively when the carrot was there as long as results were achieved, she would assure the staff.

This hid her growing disturbance with the way P7031 was raised, more so as he began to light up when when she greeted him every morning, began to smile as she praised him for things that weren’t tied to the purpose given to him by the academy, began to question the world around him in ways he had never been given the chance to do before with the kind of childish wonderment that dissipated into thin air when it came time to return to the academy. 

And P7031 began to feel his worldview shift as well, as she was the first person to treat him like the child that he was, whether it be reading with him young adult novels not approved by the academy board or snapping the very first pictures of himself he was allowed to keep (a gift to remind him that he existed beyond the academy walls). Attachments were an alien concept to him; he understood that his purpose meant connections beyond duty—whether it be family or friends, neither of which he had prior to Yumei— were wasteful, unnecessary, dangerous. But for the first time in his nine years of living, he wanted for something more than purpose. He wanted a life with his handler, his mother, as the card he presented to her on a second Sunday in May proclaimed with words easier written than spoken.

And as the time grew near for her handler contract with the academy to end, it was a sentiment Yumei echoed. 

When he was ten years old, she came for him after hours; silent, stealthy and wreathed in shadow, promising him a life away from the academy, from a purpose he never asked for. 

And at ten years old, time froze for him. 

P7031 didn’t remember anything of that night; The escape to the docks. The lullaby hummed to keep him calm. The struggle and the thunderclap that spattered his coat in blood that wasn’t his, and the wretched, barely human sound that tore from his throat. 

He didn’t remember being dragged back to the academy beaten within an inch of his life screaming blue murder. 

Didn’t remember the golden eyes crinkled at the edges with amusement as he begged for them to stop, because he knew Uncle Gold-Eyes, the one they called Trepan, to be a doctor who dealt with ‘defective’ assets; something he had once prided himself in never being. He didn’t care that he was defective; they had already taken the only person worth anything in his life away from him physically, and they were prepared to take what remained of her in his mind to ‘fix’ him. 

His pleas fell on deaf ears, and what he did remember, after all this, is simply his dorm room, Spartan as ever. 

Life went on, with only whispers of the unexplained cancellation of the handler initiative, which he’d never heard of, as a ripple in the monotony of his classes, shooting range practice and on-field assignments.

At eighteen, he graduated from the academy and finally earned the right to a name, and P7031 became Officer Wan Peirong, assigned to the Chengdu Security Bureau where he became one of its rising stars. 

His professionalism, loyalty and sense of duty were unmatched, even among his batch, and he unquestioningly served the system that kept the nation running. Criminals had no place in the system, but as he was told by his superiors, neither did dissidents who threatened order and had to be re-educated, taught the error of their ways to become productive citizens the same way he had been molded into a model worker in the academy. 

In this period, blips in his memories became more frequent, though his attending physician dismissed his concerns as it didn’t impact his work. Work which he began to question one day when his task entailed breaking up a miners’ protest downtown. As he led one activist away, an elderly woman kowtowed at his feet, begging for him to show mercy to her son, and something in her voice made him loosen his grip with the beginnings of doubt.

Miners were not an outlying group; they were a sizable section of the populace, and they weren’t the only group voicing their grievances. He was tasked with helping keep the peace; something he was told repeatedly that the many desired over the few who bucked against the order. But who was he serving when those who bucked against the order he was told should not be challenged became the many? 

It was a question Peirong struggled with as the days went by and dissent grew louder among the working class, which authorities were ordered to respond to with mounting force even for the pettiest infractions.

He began to seek out banned texts, including translated copies of ‘Towards Peace’, supposedly penned by a Cold Construct just like him from the west, to gain clarity on the situation; He reasoned that ne had to study all angles before making a move after all, and the more he read, the more shaky his faith grew in an institution which was far from the paragon he had been promised in the academy. 

He wasn’t a fool however; he knew how the system worked inside and out, and began searching for loopholes to secretly help out people he believed were being failed by the system, as well as utilising malicious compliance to cover his tracks in a real-time game of chess with his superiors.

It all came to a boiling point one day, as he was assigned to a squad escorting a group of political prisoners to a new facility. 

Among them was someone Peirong recognised as one Brandon Shen Bailin; a charismatic and  defiant radio deejay-reporter from Hong Kong who recently came out as a Cold Construct and was nicknamed the ‘Blaster’ for the exposes he penned about the government. 

Brandon had gone missing weeks ago on assignment in Xinjiang; no amount of bandages and no large a hoodie could hide the toll that time had taken on the man, who was now emaciated and missing all of his fingers.

Before Peirong could fully process what he was seeing, the reporter was separated from the rest of prisoners and forced to kneel, as a gun was placed in Peirong’s hands by the Second-Level Inspector and he was told to dispose of this enemy of the state.

What was unspoken but clearly understood between both of them, as Peirong could deduce from the officers closing in on him, was that this was a test of loyalty as his wavering faith in the system was becoming clear to the bureau’s cabal. 

The choice was made in a split second; he refused his commanding superior’s orders, shot the man square between the eyes before they could draw their weapon and then kneecaped the rest of the officers before the dust settled.

Hauling Brandon into the shotgun seat of the prisoner transport truck and driving off, he helped the reporter liaise with a contact that directed them to a rendezvous point at the nearby contested China-Arunachal Pradesh border to fight extradition orders. 

With authorities not far behind, Peirong pressed on and covered for them as they raced towards the border, following in Brandon’s lead. He had spoken with them throughout the journey; stilted and monotonous as ever on his end as he struggled to connect with them, but two things were clear, as they made that run for freedom:

The first was that the system was untenable if it would deem parents, poets, artists and blue collar workers–the many, the unarmed—as enemies of the state.  The second, was that while they ran for their lives, he wasn’t sure whether he’d ever truly lived at all. 

This was a sentiment that Peiriong echoed, after he was overpowered by men in the same uniform he wore, to the constable pressing the nozzle of a gun to his forehead; That they were free to take his life, a life where the only moment he’d felt even barely alive was he had defied an order for the first time. 

The argument that occurred next between two commanding officers who debated his fate was a surprise, though not so much as the revelation that this wasn’t the ‘first time’ he had broken protocol, and that he had apparently broken protocol one too many times that they were now weighing his use against the cost needed for his ‘upkeep’. 

In a day of firsts, it was also the first time Peirong had allowed his emotions to overwhelm him, as his increasingly frantic demands to know what they did to him before this—suddenly the blips in his memories made sense—was met with a pistol whip to the temple, and booming sound which made him believe for a fraction of a second that the gunman had kept true to the threat to kill him. 

Except he still breathed, and despite the ringing in his ears, he dazedly managed to push himself up to see the officers scattered and stunned while a new man stood in their midst; armored, backlit against the sun, and smiling.

The words were muffled, but he could read the man’s lips clearly; “Focus on me.” 

It was the singular thread of clarity he needed to finally accept the hand outstretched to him as both of them made a run for the waiting aircraft that would, for better or worse, take him away from his purpose, from the only life he knew. 

The man, who introduced himself as Jace Zayden codenamed Jazz, was a friend of Brandon who had refused to leave without the lone cop who had risked everything to help them.

And where Peirong had feared losing his purpose, his reason for existing with the single step he took beyond China’s borders, he found that he had instead traded it in for another the moment Jace invited him to team leader Omar ‘Orion Pax’ Parvez’s table to discuss strategy; something this new team desperately needed. 

He chose a new name, Preston, to mark his departure from his old life, and focused on his new purpose as framed by the man who saw worth in his life when those he’d once pledged it to did not: Peace through compassion, even if learned, over oppression. 

And between understanding what it meant to live as a man rather than a government asset, and forging connections beyond what duty once dictated for him, maybe, just maybe he could one day piece together the scattered fragments of his past. 

[beeing1alive]

Cute headcanons with Tokyo Revengers boys p.2

f.t.: Mikey (Manjirō Sanō); Draken (Ken Ryūgūji); Mitsuya (Takashi Mitsuya); Chifuyu (Chifuyu Matsuno); Baji (Keisuke Baji); Takemichi (Takemichi Hanagaki); Angry (Souya Kawata), Smiley (Nahoya Kawata); Hakkai (Hakkai Shiba); Kazutora (Kazutora Hanemija), Koko (Hajime Kokonoi); Inupi (Inui Seishu); Hanma (Shuji Hanma)

Mikey sends people to look after you. Of course, he always prefers to do it himself, but as the leader of Toman he can't leave in the middle of a meeting and that's why he sends someone, usually Draken, to check on you, when he knows you're out alone or with your friends. That's why he wants you to tell him about it.

Draken pays attention to everything you say. For example, if you go shopping and you see a shirt that you think he would look good in, you can be pretty sure that he will buy it, probably without you, but he will still say that it is the best shirt he owns.

Mitsuya will hire you as the first model for his brand. Many of his self-sewn pieces are made for you and your size anyway, so why not? He thinks you are the most beautiful creature to walk the earth and couldn't think of a better model for his make. Many pieces only exist because you inspired him to create them.

Chifuyu talks a lot about you, especially with his best friends like Baji and so on. It doesn't even occur to him that he could annoy them with it. No, there's no more interesting topic for him than you. That doesn't mean that you're his whole personality, of course he's interested in other things too, but sometimes he needs to vent and tell the whole world what a sweet person he has by his side.

Baji loves it when you play with his hair or massage his head. He almost falls asleep when you gently run your fingers through his hair or braid or twist it. Head massages are the perfect medicine for stress or headaches, but even if he can't sleep, a massage helps much more than medication or something like that.

Takemichi carries a small bag for you. He calls it an 'emergency bag' and it contains plasters, hair ties, medication and, if necessary, pads and tampons. So if you need anything, he can always take out this 'emergency bag' and try to help you as best he can, because he has sworn to always be there for you.

Souya looks less aggressive in your presence. Although his usual expression adorns his handsome face, how can someone look violent when a sweet blush colours his face and you have an infinitely amorous twinkle in your eyes. He just can't look angry when you give him a sweet kiss.

Nahoya shares his entire wardrobe with you. He just thinks you look so cute in his clothes and has absolutely no shame in telling you so. Sometimes he even buys shirts that you would look particularly good in just to see you in them.

Hakkai has bought your perfume so that he doesn't miss you so much, especially at night. He simply sprays your perfume on his pillow and it smells like you. It helps him a lot to fall asleep because he associates the scent with you and he can relax and rest 100% by your side.

Kazutora relaxes immediately as soon as you start tracing the tiger tutor on his neck, which is why you always do this when he can't sleep or has a panic attack. His brain is instantly wiped clean and the only thing that fills his memory is you and the gentle fingers that run along his neck and throat.

Koko buys the most expensive and beautiful clothes there are, but she prefers to see you in your relaxed clothes. clothes. It's like a privilege for him because you usually dress very well. He thinks that you are really sure that he loves you, and no less so when you wear relaxed clothes. He is in love with you, not your clothes.

Inupi knows the best places for dates. He knows the classiest restaurants, the most beautiful spots for picnics and the best amusement parks for having fun. No matter where you want to go or what you want to do, he knows the right places and sometimes even the quickest routes to get there.

Hanma prefers to spend his Sundays just snuggled up in bed with you, watching films or series, eating fast food and sleeping. The curtains are closed all day so that the room is nice and dark. At the end of the day, he always likes to take a bath or shower with you. That way, the perfect day ends perfectly and he has motivation for the next few days to fight with all those idiots again.

Attention: The characters and the gif do not belong to me. All credits go to the actual owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please write to me.

I Hope you liked it, if yes, here is p.1

[criminalamnesia]

thinking about reader and simon who are tied together and have a hawkgirl/hawkman fate.

aka they’re forever cursed to find each other, fall in love, die, then reincarnate and do it all over again for the rest of time.

(timeless by taylor swift is inspiring this lol)

every time the two of you die, when you’re reborn, you don’t remember a single thing. you don’t remember until your eyes meet each other’s again, and then it all comes flooding back.

it scares the hell out of you each time because what the fuck?

you just asked the tall, masked, burly man who was also in the cereal aisle to grab you a box from the top shelf.

and then you meet his eyes and suddenly decades— centuries are flashing through your eyes. you know this man. have know him through many different years, in many different lives.

the flashbacks suddenly stop, and your eyes are wide as you stare up at him.

“did you—” you begin, and he nods.

“what the actual fuck,” you mutter to yourself, glancing down at the cereal box in your hand.

he grunts, and when you look back up, he’s walking away.

“hey— where are you going?” you call after him.

“to a fucking shrink or somethin’. think I’m going fucking mad.”

you shove the cereal box back onto the shelf and hurry after him. he moves fast for such a big man.

“wait, shouldn’t we, like, talk about that or something?”

“what’s there to say?” he replies, not bothering to slow his pace for you as he approaches the exit doors.

“um, I don’t know, maybe ‘hey so we just had a shared flashback montage of us loving each other then dying brutally throughout the last however-many-years?’ maybe something like that?”

he doesn’t respond. you huff as you jog after him. he’s walking to his car— a black truck, and you’d almost roll your eyes at how predictable the vehicle was if it weren’t for the blaring of a car horn.

it’s a split second, and it gives the two of you all the proof you need that whatever the fuck those memories were, they were real.

a car comes skidding into the parking lot, making a beeline straight for you. you turn as the horn cuts through the afternoon air, your eyes widening as you’re about ten seconds away from getting well acquainted with the hood of the car, and then—

the car crashes into the man’s truck and you’re still breathing.

“what the fuck?!” you shriek as adrenaline courses through your veins.

as you attempt to get your bearings, you realize the man is on top of you. he’d saved you, had tackled you out of the way.

“you— you were— you shouldn’t have—” you pant between quick breaths, eyes wide in shock as you stare up at him.

“I…I just had a feeling…” he mutters, and it’s more to himself than it is to you.

he climbs off of you, brushing off his jeans before holding a hand out to help you up. you place your shaking hand in his, and he lifts you with ease.

you look at the crashed car, his ruined truck, and then back to him. bystanders are yelling now, and people are starting to approach the two of you.

“I’m simon.” he tells you, his eyes trained on the wreck.

you tell him your name and he nods.

“guess we’re stuck together now, huh?” he says, and you nod.

“yep. guess we’re stuck together.”