#so she tries over and over again to connect with her

[chris-hallelujah]

Have You Ever Tried This One? pt. 2 | m.s.

Part One Here!

Warnings: foul language, oral (m and f receiving), alcohol usage

Word Count: 1.8k words

My Master List

Join my tag list : @matthewsroses @lvrsturniolo @sturnzsblog @nickgurl4life

Enter my giveaway!! (closes 11/15)

Divider by: @anitalenia

A/N: Thank you all for the love on part one! I was not expecting it to get the attention it did. Thank you again @delilahsturniolo for the inspo and letting me make your idea my own. I'm sorry if it feels rushed -- I knew you all were waiting for this so I tried to hurry!!

<3 - Billie

The lights in the arena darkened and you disappeared from the view of the crowd's view. "Goodnight Boston, I'll see you soon!" You called into the mic before handing it off to someone on stage crew. Your manager handed you a water bottle which you gladly took. Making your way back to your dressing room, she fussed over your hair and outfit.

"There are a few journalists who want to speak with you and those boys you invited backstage," she said powdering your face. You waved her off.

"I just got done with a concert, they can deal with a little bit of imperfection," you laughed walking out of your dressing room. In the lobby area backstage you saw the triplets with Chris' girlfriend standing against a wall. You waved at them to acknowledge them quickly before you had to deal with the few journalists. After about 10 minutes of interviews and answering questions, you were finally free. You sauntered over to the group with a smile. "Hi! I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting! I'm Billie, it is so nice to meet you all," You exclaimed shaking each of their hands as they introduced themselves. Your hand lingered connected to Matt's for a few seconds longer than the others. He was quiet, shy as you all conversed. Chris and Nick did most of the talking. "I've seen some of your videos. You guys are hilarious," you smiled looking across all of them but then locking eyes with Matt.

"Y-you've seen our videos?" he asked surprised, earning a nod from you.

"I have and I'm really honored you all came tonight. I hope you enjoyed the show." You all chatted for a bit before your manager passed by giving you a look to wrap it up. "It was great to get to meet you all. And, Matt, if you're up for it, I'd love to chat more." You flashed him a confident smile and handed him a paper with your number on it. He took it with a shaky hand, staring at it wide eyed.

"Yea, no, that - yea sounds good," he blurt out earning a laugh from his brothers.

"You might have broke him," Nick teased.

After you all parted ways you made your way back to your hotel room. The hot shower water ran down your body as you felt your muscles relax. The plush bathrobe hugged your body as you climbed out of the shower and, as if on cue, your phone buzzed.

Hey, you put on a great show tonight. Thanks for the handcuffs. Now I just need to put them to use ;)

You're too sweet and a bit more bold when your brothers aren't around to tease you

They're a piece of work lol when can I see you again?

I'm at the four seasons room 311

Matt stared at his phone in shock. He never would have expected you to just give him the information for your hotel room. He quietly snuck out of his bedroom, not wanting to have to deal with telling Nick and Chris that he was going to see you.

You quickly freshened up, enough to look cute but not too much that you looked desperate. About 15 minutes later there was a knock at your hotel room door. Matt's face greeted you as you opened it. He was leaning against the wall with a slight smirk. You could already tell that he was a different Matt than you'd met earlier. "Hey, pretty girl," he spoke smoothly.

A slight blush crept your cheeks as you moved aside to let him in. You took in his all black outfit, noting how nice it looked on him. "Hi Matt," you smiled. Matt looked around, taking in the fancy hotel suite you were in.

"Nice place you got here. All of your tour stops this fancy?" he asked sitting down on the sofa.

You laughed a bit, "I try and make them feel like home a bit. Traveling so much can be exhausting and it's nice to come back to a hotel room that has all that I need in it." Shuffling through the mini fridge, you pulled out some wine. "You want some?" He nodded leading you to pour two glasses. You took a spot next to him on the sofa, not leaving much room between you, but enough for it to not be awkward. "So, tell me about you. What do I need to know about Matt Sturniolo?" you asked.

He took a sip of the wine before turning fully to face you, "Well, as you know I'm a triplet. I'm the middle one. We've been doing YouTube since-"

You cut him off shaking your head. "I don't want to know about your brothers. Tell me about you." This caused Matt's head to spin. He wasn't used to people only wanting to learn about him. People always loved Chris for his looks and Nick for his humor, but sometimes Matt felt swept under the rug. ((I'm crying writing this))

A smile on his face, he took a different approach, "Okay well, I really like nature. I feel so at peace when I'm outside. I also used to be really into reading. Fell outta that for a while, but I'm starting to pick it up again." The two of you chatted getting to know each other and finishing the bottle of wine quicker than either of you had planned.

It had been an hour of just drinking and talking and before you knew it your legs were draped over his lap, hands in his hair. He had his lips attached to yours as he held your hips. You weren't quite sure how you got there, but you weren't complaining. Matt pulled away slightly, earning a whine from you. Both of you breathing heavily, he leaned his forehead against yours. "You sure about this, miss popstar?" he said, teasing you slightly. You giggled and nodded, placing your lips on his neck. He groaned, tilting his head back to give you more access. You trailed down his jawline, then his neck, and to his collarbone leaving bites and kisses in your path. A flash of pink covered your eyes as Matt tugged your shirt off over your head and tossed it to meet his on the floor. He picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. Something caught your eye, peeking out of his back pocket. Something pink. With fur? Oh my god.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you tugged the fuzzy pink handcuffs you had gifted him at the concert out of his back pocket. "I see you wanted to break in your gift," you smirked, twirling them on your finger. He chuckled snatching them from you and tossing them to the side.

"Don't worry, pretty girl, they'll get used soon," he winked. His pants hit the floor and your eyes trailed down his body. Before you knew it, you found yourself on your knees in front of him. "Such a good girl. Didn't even have to tell you," he smirked. You were practically drooling at the sight of him. Your hand wrapped around his length causing him to hiss slightly. As your lips enclosed around his tip, his hand found home in your hair. Your tongue swirled around him slowly before you closed the distance between your lips and his groin. He groaned loudly as you took him in deeper. Impulsively, his hand pushed your head further, causing a choking noise to leave you. "Shhh, you got it, princess. Doin' - ah - doing so well," he moaned as your head bobbed. As you moved your head back and forth, your hand covered what didn't fit in your mouth. It did not take long for Matt's hand to coerce you a bit more forcefully as you noticed his body tense up. "Oh fuck, keep goin," he moaned. A few more pumps later you felt his load shoot into your mouth as he groaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut. You pulled off of him with a slight 'pop' and sat with a satisfied grin on your face. He let out a deep breath before looking down at you.

Next thing you knew, your back hit the mattress and Matt hovered over you. "Better wipe that smirk off that pretty little face," he chuckled. To your right you heard the sound of metal clinking. Matt's hand gathered your small wrist and cuffed you to the bed. You looked up at the handcuffs and back at him whimpering slightly. Your arms wiggled causing the metal to clank against the headboard. "What? Can't handle what you dish out?" he smirked and trailed kisses down your torso. When he reached your underwear, his eyes met yours again for approval. As you nodded, he discarded your thong onto the floor. Your hips twitched in anticipation as you felt his breath on your core. The wide grin on his face was undeniable as he watched you already writhing beneath him. "So sensitive," he chuckled tracing circles on your thigh, "barely even touched you yet."

"Matty, please," you whined. He ended your suffering licking a stripe up your folds. Your hips lifted at the contact and you gasped loudly. He quickly shoved your hips back down to the bed and held them there with his hands, probably leaving bruises that would show tomorrow. Matt explored you with his tongue, taking note on what made your legs shake. As his tongue circled your clit, he felt your hips try to raise against his hands. "Oh! Matt fuck" you moaned loudly. He smiled against you knowing he figured out your weakness. He continued to work your bundle of nerves until you were a writhing, moaning mess underneath him. The noise of the handcuffs fighting the headboard earned a laugh from Matt's mouth that vibrated against you. Your body tensed as your climax built up. He slipped a finger into you, thrusting quickly as his tongue danced against your clit. You felt pleasure take over your body. "Matt - my god! Don't stop!" you cried out. He continued to ride out your orgasm until your body relaxed and you panted against the bed. He carefully removed his fingers from you and crawled up to meet your eyes. Your lips wrapped around his fingers, tasting yourself as you licked them clean. He removed his fingers from your mouth and unlocked the handcuffs.

A soft kiss landed on your forehead as he pulled his t shirt over your head. You smiled climbing under the covers. Pulling his boxers back on before he climbed into bed with you. The night was spent wrapped in each others' arms.

The morning light showed through the curtains as you woke. After cuddling up to Matt for a few more minutes, you reached for your phone. Your eyes widened as you saw messages from your manager. Attached was an article titled, "YouTube Triplet Seen at Pop Star's Hotel." You knew this was not going to end well with your publicity team but, boy, was it worth it.

[redflowersociety]

Reacting to you getting hit on - Mouthwashing HC

Includes all characters. Pretense of you being their partner (excluding Swansea, though he is included).

Jimmy

He is beyond pissed off. Both at the person hitting on you for coming anywhere near what’s supposed to be his, and at you (as if it’s your fault for being perceived). He curses the person out, making it clear to them and everybody around that you’re HIS partner. He makes a show of it in front of this stranger to repair his ego after the event. He’s the type of guy to drag you away, and forcefully make out with you within eyeshot of the person. He made a point to push all the right buttons to get you melting into his touch and meeting all his demands. He knows how to get you subservient, and that fact reassures him of his control.

After this, though? Expect him to be extra insecure for the following days. He’s completely convinced that you’d try to wriggle out of his grasp given the chance, and he just couldn’t let that happen. So he doesn’t let you go out the house without him, and when you both *are* out, he’s always got a hand on you, never allowing you out of his grasp. He needs both you, and everyone around to know that you already belong to somebody: him.

Curly

Curly trusts you. For him to settle with you, he must have a connection strong enough to reassure him that he won’t be used for his kindness, so of course he trusts you. He watches as you gently turn down the stranger, standing by but never once moving his gaze off of you two (mostly you). If he notices the stranger doesn’t take the first no, he steps in. He doesn’t mean to make you feel like a damsel in distress in need of saving, but he can’t bring himself to stand by and watch you get harassed. He promised to himself he wouldn’t stand by instead of protecting those he cares for, so he won’t.

Overall, it doesn’t stick with him in a negative way. Instead, your handling of the situation reassures him that he’s your only interest.

Post Crash

Although he has the same mentality as pre-crash Curly, there is an extra piece: He is horribly insecure of his appearance, and all that it represents. He shared to you the events that transpired on the Tulpar as a way of holding himself accountable. Every moment that passes, the guilt and hatred of his body plants seeds of doubt into his mind: Anybody is more attractive and could provide for you better than him. His past with Jimmy doesn’t help these feeling either.

So, it’s safe to say that the situation sticks with him. It makes it harder for him to accept reassurance. It takes a long time, and a LOT of reassurance for him to move on from it.

Daisuke

Daisuke is completely trusting of your love for him, but not of his own abilities or accomplishments. So, when he sees a guy with expensive jewelry or a well-kept appearance trying to get your number, it stings his heart. It’s not jealousy, as he knows that he’s the only one you want: it’s shame. He feels shameful that he can’t the perfect guy for somebody so perfect (you).

It’s not hard to notice that he’s feeling down when you hurry towards him after the interaction. You pull him somewhere a bit more private and cup his squishy cheeks, asking him what’s got him so upset. He hesitates for a moment, but soon leaves his emotions in your hands with the tears in his eyes that he just can’t manage to keep back.

He’d spill his guts to you about his worries, how he feels inadequate. You would have expected this, seeing how hard he tries to impress Swansea for approval. With a whole heap of kisses all over his face and neck, and soft spoken reassurance and words of encouragement, he’ll be back on his feet in no time.

Anya

Anya struggles to accept that others may see her for more than her body. So when she sees a woman with a more conventionally attractive body or face than her own hitting on you… she can’t help but feel a twinge of fear. Watching you reject the stranger kindly, however, reassured her again: she knew you weren’t that kind of person. You were never that shallow.

If a man happens to approach you, and won’t leave you alone, Anya pretends to be your sister or something similar to try to drive the man away. Safety in numbers, as they say. She’ll pull you away, and when times get desperate, it’ll be the first time you found out Anya never leaves her home without pepper spray!

Generally speaking, seeing you hit on doesn’t make her jealous or anything! She just wants you happy, letting your actions do the job at reminding her why she decided to give her heart to you.

Swansea

Who you share time with isn’t Swansea’s concern, he’s not your dad (or at least that’s what he tells himself)! But, if he did catch a glimpse of somebody making you uncomfortable…? Yeah, he’s stepping in and intimidating the shit out of the other person. Like hell he’d let some creep treat you that way when there’s something he can do about it!

If he caught you flirting back with someone, knowing you’ve got a partner… he’d definately be dissapointed.

Unless your partner was Jimmy. If it’s Jimmy, he’s hoping this stranger plays their cards right.

[lucygraysboy]

“yeah…” billy echoes absently, turning his head to the side in a feeble attempt to keep the other from noticing his tear-filled eyes. his heart growing so heavy that it becomes difficult for him to breathe. he doesn’t want to be the first one to break the silence, afraid of what might come out of his mouth. come with me to new mexico. don’t make me leave you behind. i’ll keep you safe. but she deserves better. unless he finds a way to clean his name, he’ll never be able to give her the kind of life that she deserves. “i know you’re tough as nails. that doesn’t change anything, though. i’ll still worry ‘bout you and keep you in my prayers. always.” at least, he’ll have something to remember her by — the bracelet on his wrist. his lucky charm. “well, i’ve never tried it out,” the cowboy admits shyly, blushing because she’s right about the distance. can a little dove fly for over a thousand miles? he doubts it, but refuses to let the only ounce of hope that they have die. “but i read ‘bout it in a book. we’ll try it out. should we come up with aliases for each other? in case something happens to the birds and our correspondence falls into someone else’s hands?” he can’t really sign his letters off as billy the kid and doesn’t want her to be connected to his crimes and reputation. “biscuits and jam sound really good right now.” surprised to find her still in his lap, rosiness spills across his cheeks but his right arm returns to its previous position, coiling around her waist and holding her close. her skin’s so warm again, so soft beneath his fingertips. he could hold her forever. “here you go.” his left hand dives inside the basket, quickly locating the bowl of biscuits and grabbing two. he hands her one and puts the other in his own mouth, but not before gently bumping them together. some people clink glasses, they clink biscuits, he thinks.

“yeah…” voice softly trailing off, a small hum accompanying it as she sits in thought. it’s been a lot in the past hour, her mind is tired and truthfully— she’s still recouping from those previous events. trying to come to terms with her new friend she already cares a lot about leaving off forever soon is a lot more weight to bear. she needs a moment to just sit in quiet until she comes back to respond a minute later to his previous words. “you won’t need to worry ‘bout me.” a gentle shake of her head, a tiny smile pulling her plump lips upwards. “i believe the power in birds,” smile widens further now, “but— does that really work? you’re goin’ an awful long ways.” lucy gray points out, brief confusion knitting thick brows but a soft look growing in her eyes nonetheless at what a sweet suggestion it is. “biscuits and jam or rolls and cheese. i want the biscuits and jam.” a small finger points in the basket, waiting to see if he’ll hand her one of the biscuits in the bowl sitting inside the basket already sliced and smothered in fruit jam. staying put on his lap, not wanting to admit she’s having a touch starved moment where she wants to keep absorbing this newfound feeling of being held.

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year <> you do too much

word count: 3.7k TW: body image, overworking, swearing, angst italics are in english, bolded words are in mandarin

౨ৎ ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ

Cyana never meant for it to get this far.

It had started off pretty mild, she'd wake up earlier than usual, take a morning run to the company and get a head start on practice. She'd stay later than the others too, insisting they go home without her and that she'd join them a bit later. Just one more time, she'd say, as she cued up the song once again. Just one more time, she'd say again after that, and by then it would already be close to midnight.

She stared at herself in the mirror, shaking with frustration and fatigue. Her chest heaved harshly as she tried desperately to calm her breath.

Hoshi shot her a worried glance. "Nana, take a break."

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Practice is done anyways. The car's ready, pack up." He grabbed her hand to drag her towards their things.

Cyana shook her hand out from his grasp, shooting him a tired smile. "You can go first, Soonie. I'll stay a little bit longer. I want to try Getting Closer again."

Hoshi frowned at her words. "We've already stayed late, nana-yah. Everyone's already left. And you've been staying late for the past two weeks. Let's take a break, okay?"

She shook her head stubbornly. "It's fine, really."

He looked at her apprehensively, not quite believing her. Sighing, he reluctantly agreed, knowing there was no stopping her. "Please be home by at least two am."

She nodded absentmindedly, already turning back around to cue up the track. She made sure Hoshi really had left before continuing, concentrating on perfecting her angles and facial expression. She had failed the company test - when the higher-ups came and decided she wasn't good enough - her ego burned from the hit and she vowed to work even harder. The members had told her she was already amazing, but she couldn't believe them if the company officials didn't think so.

She hadn't told any of the boys she hadn't been returning home. Most of her essentials were stored safely in one of the drawers in their practice room - saving her both the time and energy it took to return home. This way she could wash up and change before immediately getting back to practice.

"Oh, Jeonghan oppa." She answered when he called her phone.

"Nana, where are you?" His voice sounded muffled and tired. "Hoshi texted and said you're still at the company."

She checked the time. 3:26 AM. "Oh. I decided to crash at Mingyu's place." She lied, wincing. She hated lying to him whenever he called to check in. It was pure luck that no one really ever confirmed with Mingyu that she had actually been staying over. "I'm about to go to sleep. You should too, oppa."

She heard Jeonghan sigh in relief. "Okay, good. Goodnight, Nana." He hung up, probably way too tired.

Placing her phone back down on the floor, she glanced once again at the time. It was late. Her body was sore and she was starting to feel a little dizzy. Dragging her feet towards the connected washroom, she was glad they'd installed showers. Cleaning herself up and changing, she returned back to the practice room and crashed on the couch. Just a couple hours, she thought to herself.

"Cyana."

She opened her eyes, squinting at the brightness and letting out a groan. "What time is it?"

A very confused Dino stared back at her. "7 AM." He helped her to sit up, frowning when he saw her wince. "Why are you sleeping here?"

Her eyes widened when she remembered where she was. She inwardly kicked herself for oversleeping. Usually she was able to wake up, get ready and change before everyone else began arriving. They always just assumed she had been the first to arrive. "I-" Feeling rather caught, Cyana could only stare up at Dino wordlessly.

He seemed to catch on rather quickly. "Cyana." He looked at her, disappointment written plainly across his face. "Have you been living here?"

"No!" She protested, knowing he'd 100% tell Jeonghan if she admitted to it and Jeonghan would 100% kill her. "I was just practicing last night and fell asleep, that's all."

He gave her a weird look. "Alright, just-" He sighed. "You really don't need to be pushing yourself so hard. You're already ready."

Cyana gave him a hard stare. Perhaps it was the pain or the lack of sleep, but her nerves were wearing thin. She pushed herself off the couch, walking to the washroom. Splashing water on her face, she attempted to wake herself up.

"Please don't tell the others." She begged Dino once she returned. "Please please please." He looked unconvinced. "Please." She said again. "They'll kill me and you know it."

He sighed. "Fine." He pointed a finger at her, his poor attempt at being stern. "But you've got to promise me it's the last time."

"Got it." She promised, although she knew she'd probably end up breaking it. "Thanks, Chan."

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms gently around her waist, frowning when he felt how skinny she had gotten. He was about to comment on it when the practice doors opened and a hoard of members rushed in, all still slightly half-asleep.

"Aigoo~" Seungkwan cooed at the position they'd caught them in. "Our maknaes are so cute."

Dino flushed, trying to pull away but pausing when he realized Cyana was leaning on him, her eyes closed.

"Is she okay?" Jun mumbled, sipping on his ice coffee and glancing at the girl.

"Hm?" Cyana opened an eye, jumping a bit at the sudden appearance of so many people. "Oh! You're all here."

"Yup." Vernon walked over, ruffling her hair. "You ready?"

She sighed, reluctantly detaching herself from Dino, shivering at the loss of his body heat. "I guess."

Jeonghan had thought something was off from the way Cyana sounded over the phone. She sounded sick and incredibly out of it, her words slurring slightly as she spoke to him. He would've pressed the girl for more answers, but Hoshi's text had woken him up mid-sleep and he was aching to the state of passing out.

Even as they started practice, Jeonghan's mind drifted from the choreo over to Cyana. His mental list of things wrong with her had been gradually growing over the week and he was getting concerned.

Jeonghan's mental list with things that are wrong about Cyana:

She's been saying over at Mingyu's a suspicious amount. Sure, he could understand, the Minwon residence was easily the quietest out of the bunch, and Mingyu was Cyana's closest friend. He figured Wonwoo was in his room most times anyways.

The amount of canceled plans the boys have been complaining about to him was increasing. It felt like every couple days, at least one member would approach him requesting a therapy session, where they just complained about how Cyana was ditching them for their usual hangouts.

He rarely ever saw the girl anywhere but the company. Under any other circumstance it would've been normal, but Cyana had expressed before she hated the feeling of captivity the company gave her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her eat something.

He could've continued listing reasons in his head, had it not been for the loud thud and a piercing screech that followed it. He froze mid dance move and spun towards the noise.

Cyana was on the floor, Woozi a mere step away from her as he crouched down to examine her. DK was apologizing for the loud scream, although he continued to panic loudly.

"I think she fainted." Woozi concluded, voice calm. His furrowed eyebrows were the only sign he was worried.

"Fainted?" DK gasped out loud.

Mingyu reached down and scooped the girl into his arms, depositing her on the couch. "Yeah, she's out."

"Is she injured?" Seungcheol asked, hovering over her as Mingyu checked. He sighed with relief when Mingyu shook his head. "It was a loud thud."

Jeonghan let out a groan of both realization and disappointment.

"What." Seungcheol whipped his head around at the sound of Jeonghan's groan. "Do you know something?" He pointed at Cyana, who was still laying limply on the couch, head supported by Mingyu's large hand. "Why is she like this?"

Jeonghan raised his hands in defence. "I only suspected. I mean- I thought it was weird she was sleeping over at Mingyu and Wonwoo's so often recently but-"

"What?" Wonwoo cut him off. "She hasn't been over since-" He flushed at the memory. "Since she hurt her ankle."

And all at once, the pieces seemed to fall into place in Jeonghan's mind.

"She's been living here, hasn't she." Dino beat him to the punch, stating what he had just realized. "I found her here asleep when I came in this morning."

They all turned to Seungcheol, who seemed to be at a loss for words, staring at Cyana.

Cyana awoke just in time to see Seungcheol leave, the practice room door swinging shut behind him. She struggled to get up, as strong hands grabbed her and situated her to lean back. A bottle of water was shoved wordlessly into her hands by Vernon, already opened.

"You scared us." Mingyu muttered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She was vaguely aware of the other boys standing around her. Her ears still rang but she could faintly hear Woozi talking to Jun.

"I swear I tried to catch her. I didn't let her drop on purpose." He was defending himself to a wary Jun. "I'm not that mean."

She would have smiled at how defensive he sounded had it not been for the glowering face of Jeonghan, who was staring holes into her skull.

"Everyone out, please." Jeonghan signalled the others to give them the room. He sat down next to Cyana, letting out a loud sigh once everyone had left.

She knew she was in for it now.

"You wanna tell me what's been going on?" He said quietly, rubbing the seam of her sleeve between his thumb and index finger. "No lies this time."

She felt a lump form in her throat. "Jeonghan-"

"I'm not mad, Cyana." He looked at her sadly. "I just want to know why you haven't been taking care of yourself."

On any other occasion, she would have argued that he was mad. He hadn't used 'Nana' when saying her name.

"You haven't been staying at Mingyu's, I know that for a fact. And you've been canceling plans with the members. You also haven't been eating well. Jun says you rarely take the breakfast he sets aside for you." He continued, frowning when he saw her eyes well up with tears.

"I'm sorry." It was all she could muster.

"I don't care that you lied, Cyana." Jeonghan wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb. "Just tell me why. Are we doing something wrong?"

She shook her head frantically. "No." God no.

"Then why?"

She finally looked up from her lap to see him, feeling an ache in her chest when she saw how desperate his expression was.

"The company officials-" She paused, and Jeonghan nodded for her to go on. "they said I wasn't good enough. Not quite good enough to debut with seventeen. They said they had a lot bet on me but I was disappointing them."

She got worried when he stayed silent. "Oppa?" She whispered, reaching out tentatively to shake him.

He laced his hand in hers before she could reach him. "I'm sorry they said all that." He turned to look at her, a serious expression taking over his face. "But you know they're wrong, and even if you think they're right, you shouldn't have risked your own health like that."

Cyana nodded. "I know. I just-" She tried to find the words to explain. "I just wanted to debut so badly. I wanted to look good onstage next to all of you." It was a lame explanation but it was the best she could give.

"I know." Jeonghan nodded. "And you will." He pointed at the large mirrors on the wall in front of where they sat. "I watch you dance with us everyday through those mirrors. And you look beautiful. Full of talent and raw power."

She let out a shaky breath.

"Is that why you haven't been eating your meals?" He asked, looking back at her. "Did they say something about that too?"

She nodded. It was perhaps the comment that had hurt her the most. "They said I looked too heavy. That I was supposed to be a girl member. Not a boy."

Jeonghan let out a huff. "Who the fuck-" He muttered, almost to himself. "Give me the names of the people, I'll talk to them."

Cyana smiled despite the heavy setting. "They're higher-ups, Hannie. You can't do anything."

"Psh." Jeonghan waved away her concern. "Still. I'll write their names down and get rid of them once we're big enough."

She supposed she admired his optimism. "Okay." She relented. "I'll find their names and text them to you."

Jeonghan leaned his head on the crook of her shoulder, slouching a bit to reach it. "You know we love you, right?"

She didn't say anything.

"You don't have to believe it now." He said softly. "I know you're a bit weird about stuff like that." He squeezed her hand firmly. "Just need you to hear it."

She nodded. "Okay."

They sat in silence for awhile, and Cyana's ears stopped ringing. "Where did Seungcheol-oppa go?" She whispered, curious but not wanting to ruin the peacefulness of the moment.

Jeonghan cracked an eye open from his spot on her shoulder. "He's dealing with it his own way."

"Dealing with what?"

He sat up straight to look at her. "You fainting. He's our leader, he's going to feel the responsibility."

She frowned. "It's not his fault though."

Jeonghan shrugged. "It's just how he works. He's going to blame himself for not noticing it all sooner either way. Even if it's not his fault."

She stood up, swaying a bit before steadying herself. "I'm gonna go look for him, is that okay?"

She could swear Jeonghan was smirking a little. "I think he'd like that."

She found him in one of the empty studios. Seungcheol was sitting on one of the chairs when she walked in, head in his hands. He got up quickly once he heard the sound of her footsteps.

"Cyana." He breathed out, thankful she was okay. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." She whispered, sitting down and motioning gently for him to join her. She watched him hesitate before he sat down next to her.

"You shouldn't have pushed yourself so hard." Seungcheol scolded her.

"I know."

"And you should've told someone you weren't going back to the dorm. You should've let me know how much you were struggling."

"I know."

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Tell me what happened. Everything leading up to today. I assume this has been going on for awhile."

She could tell from his face he meant business, so she told him without a fight. She recited everything - the skipped meals, the ditching hangouts, the sleeping in the practice room, the toothbrush and skincare hidden in the drawers - all of it. She saw his face twist in pain when she got to the part about the company officials.

"You should've told me." He whispered, once she was all done.

"I thought perhaps you didn't want to know." She admitted.

He looked astonished she would even say such a thing. His mouth opened and closed again as he reconsidered his choice of words. "I'm your leader, Cyana. I care about this team."

"And I'm doing my job." She said, not getting what he meant. Wasn't SEVENTEEN doing quite well? And the team would do even better if she was perfect for the comeback.

Seungcheol didn't know if he wanted to strangle her and cry. "Let me reiterate." He looked at her. "I care about you, Cyana. Not the comeback."

She blinked. "Oh."

He felt more like crying, Seungcheol decided. She looked so fragile and confused at the mere thought of him even caring about her. A burning sense of rage fuelled through him. Who on earth had taught her to be so skeptical of care and love?

Cyana panicked when she saw the tears in Seungcheol's eyes. "Please don't cry." She whispered frantically, not knowing what would happen to her if she saw the dependable and strong Seungcheol break down.

"Our maknae~" Seungcheol whispered back, reaching over to brush his hand against her cheek. "Maybe I didn't do well enough, to show you you belong here. I tried being a strong leader, guiding everyone through the comeback, letting you adjust to how busy life in SEVENTEEN can be. But maybe you needed more of a gentle touch? Something more personal?" At this point he seemed to be talking to himself. "I know I didn't really take the time to connect with you on a deeper level like the others did. I was so focused on guiding you through work. I must've done something wrong, if you felt like you needed to hide this much from me. Push yourself this far."

Cyana's lips trembled as she desperately held back tears. "It's not your fault."

"It is." Seungcheol corrected her quietly. "I always strived to be a leader you could tell anything to." He paused, looking at her with sad eyes. "I'm sorry you felt the need to break yourself so much to make this comeback happen. I'm sorry the company said such harsh things. I should've noticed."

Cyana felt the sudden strong urge to give him a hug. It confused her. She only ever felt comfortable enough to initiate any sort of contact with Jeonghan, Dino, Joshua or Mingyu. Yet, when Seungcheol finished his speech and looked at Cyana with those sad, wide eyes, she decided perhaps she could make an exception. She leaned slightly in his side, stiffing slightly when his arms wrapped around her frame.

"It's not your fault." She managed to say again, telling herself to relax into his hold.

"I know it's not logical."

Cyana let out a breathy laugh. "I am sorry I lied to Jeonghan."

"I know." Seungcheol pulled her a little closer. "Please don't ever do this again. All of it. You're much more important than a silly comeback."

She nodded. "I won't."

"I'll talk with the company about the whole test thing. They shouldn't have done that, or said those things. And you need to start eating." Now that he was hugging her, he could feel just how malnourished she was. He felt as if he could accidentally snap her just by moving the wrong way. "I'll talk to the stylists too. Everyone needs a good reminder that you're part of SEVENTEEN forever."

Cyana's face flushed. "I'm sorry." She mumbled again, feeling bad for making him so worried. "I didn't know it'd hurt you so much."

Seungcheol let her go, giving her a sad look. "I hated seeing you like that. You were so pale and fragile."

She didn't know what to do with the amount of loving words she was receiving today. She looked away awkwardly. "I'll be more careful now, I promise."

She could hear the smile that overtook his face despite not looking at him. "Good." He said. "Start getting it into your head that you're important."

Both Jeonghan and Seungcheol monitored her as she cleared out her drawer and any other sign that she had been living in the practice room. She promised them both that she'd return everything back home and that she'd keep them there.

"You scared me." DK whined. "I thought you'd died."

Cyana was grateful at how lighthearted the atmosphere was once her and Seungcheol had returned to the practice room. Everyone was still obviously worried, but they seemed to have all decided not to sour the mood further. Everyone had noticed the watery eyes from both Cyana and Seungcheol as they returned but pretended not to.

"I'm sorry~" Cyana smiled at DK's dramatics.

"Ah, hyung- it was your scream that scared me the most." Dino butted in, cackling at the memory. "I was mid move and I heard a blood-curdling cry. I thought I was in a horror movie."

The others laughed along, each of them relating to the younger boy.

Joshua sidled up to Cyana amidst the chaos Dino's remark had brought, holding her waist to support her as his eyes roamed her face for any sign of lingering fatigue. "You sure you're alright?"

Cyana nodded, grateful for the warmth radiating from his body. "Yeah. Sorry."

He shook his head. "No more apologizing. Just join Hoshi, Seungkwan, Myungho and I for dinner later today, okay? We're going to check out this new restaurant Hoshi found online."

"Okay."

From the other side of the room, Seungcheol clapped for everyone's attention. "Okay! We're resuming practice!" He looked at Cyana. "You're going home." He pointed at her. "Don't argue with me."

"What?" She protested. She was feeling fine. "I'm fine!" She insisted.

Her remark was met by a roomful of protests, even Woozi and Wonwoo joined in as everyone told her to get the fuck home.

"No really!" She protested again once the noise died down. "Please, Coups-oppa. I won't push myself too hard, promise."

She watched him think it over. She could practically see it as he fought himself. "Fine." He finally relented. "But-"

She paused her celebration.

"You're sitting out for practice. You can watch and take notes, but no dancing."

She sighed, but she knew it was the best she was getting out of him. "Fine."

As she sat on the couch, notebook in hand as she took notes on the performance, she couldn't help but glance towards their leader. He was working hard, giving 120% like he did with everything he put his mind to. She felt a glow of gratitude towards him. For a second, she allowed herself to believe that perhaps she did belong here, with these people. And perhaps him and Jeonghan were right - those people had just been mean and she was already good the way she was.

author's note: wahhhh thank you so much for reading! this one was quite a ride - writing about scoups as the leader always sends tears to my eyes, we truly don't deserve him. next fic is cyana's debut fic (finally!)

[pendularium]

sorry, yapping quickly. I saw a post earlier analysing how vi doesn't stand up for the zaunites to caitlyn, and contrasting that to jinx (and ekko), and viewing vi as a sort of pick me (not the language used but I can't find the original rn), and like. yes, I think the argument is correct, but there is like one thing I want to add, which is that vi, unlike jinx and ekko, isn't really in a position where she can criticise caitlyn right? ok hear me out. so one) imo a lot of s1 establishes vi as someone genuinely desperate for connection - its the thought to getting back to powder that gets her through prison (where she has been pretty isolated), her and caitlyn click incredibly fast etc, and all of s1 into s2 happen pretty damn fast right? vi gets out of prison, gains a friend, regains a sister and then instantly loses her again, and then that loss of powder is really underscored in the finale - vi has very few relationships left, and most of the ones she has had have ended in horrible tragedy and violence; it is no wonder that she especially would try to cling to the one (cait) she has left and two) vi is also someone who is constantly in the big sister/protector role - her intro shows this, her leadership of their little gang as kids, and after the time skip (after she fails) you can see her try to assert her dominance over caitlyn in s1 - vi is the one who knows the lanes, caitlyn has to keep up, vi throws caitlyn out of her comfort zone in the brothel etc., vi is trying to demonstrate that she has worth to caitlyn right? and of course when maddie is talking to vi, it's caitlyn expressing respect for vi's actions that vi seizes onto. I don't think this is (just) a way of showing off to caitlyn, rich girl from piltover, I think this is part of vi's understanding of herself as a figure of authority and protection in her relationships put them together and you have someone who, when confronted with an angry and grieving caitlyn, her last real connection (not counting ekko) makes compromises to avoid a confrontation with her. vi doesn't counter 'what kind of animals' directly, because that risks her relationship with caitlyn; she is pretty consistently someone who cares more about personal relationships than the grand scheme of things (as does powder/jinx but that's a different post). and yet, with that in mind, vi does try to defend zaunites! first, she tries to humanise them right; instead of being wild uncontrollable beasts, vi positions them as making a calculated attack - they wanted the spectacle, they're trying to scare you, and then after caitlyn doubles down on her anger towards them, vi pushes for caitlyn to call off the invasion. those aren't the actions of someone who doesn't care about zaunites, or would rather side with piltover imo, they're the actions of someone who does care about zaun, but who doesn't want to jeopardise her relationship with caitlyn. vi joining the enforcers is not only her staying with caitlyn, but also her trying to prevent the invasion. if I go after your sister alone, one of us comes back in a box = caitlyn won't go alone. the strike force then, can be read as a deliberate compromise between caitlyn, who has all the power here, and vi, who doesn't want zaun to be invaded by the enforcers

this is, of course, just a way you can read all this lol, if you disagree/want to add on please do so! I am a bit busy rn but I cannot express how much I want to talk about arcane with people

[yongility]

NEO TV # I LIKE ME BETTER WHEN I'M WITH YOU. (jaehyun x reader) 6/?

genre: angst, suggestive, gang au, rich kid au, enemies to lovers (kinda), a lil of fluffy stuff. slowburn, series.

warnings: drug use mentions, gangs, fights, use of weapons, adult language, illegal activities, cheating (not on the main couple), toxic family environment, addictions, manipulation, insecurities, illegal street racing, death mentions. jeno is jaehyun's younger brother, angst, smut and if I slip something my bad haha.

word count: +10k?

a/n: im the worst I KNOW! It's just i kept trying to write this chapter like a million times and it never ended like I wanted to and seeing as I have a language barrier (cuz English isn't my first language if u didn't know haha) I was just being unsatisfied with the chapter, but I force my ass to sit down and write this down so i hope u like it!

Sigh...

Overthinking.

(Y/N) had never been good at not thinking too much. Ever since she was little, she always found herself trapped in her own mind, unraveling every last detail of any situation. Perhaps it came from her mother, who had an almost supernatural ability to turn the smallest into the biggest, the most trivial into something monumental. Her mother sowed doubts where there were none, and every little imperfection became a tragedy in her house. That had marked her way of being, of perceiving the world and, especially, the people around her.

She hated it. But, despite everything, she couldn't help it.

Lying on the bed, her eyes fixed on the white ceiling, she felt how the silence enveloped her, how it pressed on her shoulders, on her chest. A heavy, unbearable silence, like a blanket that drowned her. The thoughts did not cease, on the contrary, they intensified as time progressed, dragging her more and more towards the storm raging inside her.

Five days. Five long and exasperating days.

Since the last time she saw Jaehyun. The last time he'd been at her house at one in the morning, when everything had been so... strange. So full of heavy silences, elusive looks, and something on his face, something she couldn't explain. A look she had never seen before. As if it was charged with something, with a desperation so great that he didn't know how to share it. Something that was far beyond the tension of her argument with Mark Lee. Something dark, hidden in the depths of Jaehyun, that she couldn't quite grasp.

Worst of all, now, five days later, she knew nothing about him. The unanswered calls, the messages delivered but not read. She had tried to contact him so many times, but the frustration was just overflowing her.

What was going on? The uncertainty was worse than any answer she could receive. In her mind, questions swirled like a whirlwind. Was she the cause? Had she done something that had driven him away from her? Why had he left so abruptly after their encounter?

She remembered that night. That last shared moment. It had been so... intense. So close, so intimate. An instant of shared vulnerability that had allowed her to feel that, at last, she was connecting with him in a deeper way. But then he was gone. Without a word. Without a word, without a gesture to indicate that something else might be behind his departure.

Jaehyun's words kept echoing in her mind, over and over again. "You're the one that can keep me on track."

Those words stuck to her skin like an invisible mark. What did they really mean? Was it true what he had said? Was she the one who could keep him focused? She wanted to believe it, wanted to be that person for him. But deep down, a fear was creeping in. Was she just being a distraction for him? Was she simply the release valve, the temporary relief for the anguish he was feeling, only so that later he could lose himself in his own pain again?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She was confused, she didn't know what to do or what not to do. Should she go find him at Neo Zone? Or just wait for him to decide to show up? But, if Jaehyun decided not to... then what would she do?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound of knocking on the door brought her out of her whirlwind of thoughts. She looked toward the door without moving a muscle, throat tight, stomach twisting. The last thing she wanted was to confront her mother, but the knock was persistent, as if someone had decided to break the silence of her room and force an interaction she didn't want.

But, despite the heaviness she felt inside, she got up. A slow, weary movement, as if she were walking through thick water. When she opened the door, she did not find what she expected, neither her mother, nor the inevitable argument. Instead, there he was.

"Daeho..." she murmured, her voice muffled, as if somehow his presence gave her back something she had lost in those days of constant overthinking.

It really had been a long time since they had last met face to face and to say it wasn't a surprise to her would be a total lie.

"Hey," he said, with a smile that didn't quite light up his face. "Can we just... hang?" he asked, scratching the back of his head as if it were weighing on him.

She nodded without another word, stepping aside for him to pass. As soon as he was through the door, Daeho plopped down on his bed unceremoniously, and (Y/N) mimicked him, lying down next to him quietly. They both stared at the ceiling, engulfed in the same silence that had filled their room before his arrival, though it felt somewhat less empty now.

It had been so long since they had shared a moment like this, a moment of simple companionship. She remembered the years when he had been her best friend, her inseparable companion, the only person she truly trusted within the family. But now, lying next to him, she felt as if she had a stranger by her side, someone who, despite all the shared memories, had fallen into a darkness from which she could no longer rescue him.

Daeho broke the silence, his voice soft but laden with an almost tangible weight. "How have you been?"

"I could be better," she replied, with a sincerity he understood without the need for details. He nodded, without looking at her, and went back to losing himself in the ceiling.

(Y/N) gaze strayed to him, and for the first time in a long time, she looked at him closely. His face seemed to have aged years in just a few months. His skin, paler than usual, was dotted with small imperfections that he once cared for with care. The dark circles under her eyes were deep, and her expression had an air of resignation that hurt to see. He sighed, swallowing the lump he felt in his throat.

It was ironic. The person she had grown up with, with whom she had shared so much, now felt like a stranger. She couldn't remember the exact moment when their friendship had changed, or how they got to this point. It had all happened so subtly, as if the words and gestures that had once bound them together had now lost their power. Perhaps time had eroded all that. Or maybe they simply didn't understand each other in the same way anymore.

A pang of pain shot through her. It wasn't just sadness she felt at seeing him like this, but also a pent-up rage, a helplessness that made her want to scream, to wonder at what point he had reached this point. How had he fallen so low?

Perhaps that moment had been from two years ago, when things had become a little darker in her family environment. When her aunt and uncle seemed unable to stop hurting his self-esteem again and again and again. Maybe it was since that gala when all eyes were on him, judging him, laughing at him, stalking him, waiting for him to make a simple mistake so they could point at him.

So they could tell him that he was not worthy of everything he had around him.

That he couldn't be as good as his father was.

That he was a mere spoiled child who deserved nothing.

Perhaps that was when it dawned on Daeho that he could never live up to the expectations he had to fill.

"Daeho..." she whispered, unable to keep the thought to herself alone. There was something heartbreaking about seeing how her cousin was losing himself, something that reached straight to her heart.

He closed his eyes, as if he knew what was coming, and remained silent, as if everything was in order.

"Why did we end up like this?" the question left his lips without meaning to. And as she uttered it, she felt a surge of pain run through her, as if that simple phrase was a reminder of how far away they were from each other.

Daeho closed his eyes for a few moments, as if trying to find an answer. Finally, he spoke, his voice muffled and distant.

"It's the only time I forget," he said, staring at the ceiling, not daring to look her in the eye. "When I do it, it's like I can stop thinking about everything."

"You're not forgetting," she asserted, "you're destroying yourself."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I don't think I'm doing it any more than they're destroying me," he said, his words hitting her with the force of a fist.

Silence filled the room again. She wanted to react, to scream at him, to convince him that he couldn't go on like this, but the words stuck in her throat. How to tell him that she could see him falling and could do nothing to stop it? How to make him understand that he was killing a part of himself?

"I can't keep watching you destroy yourself," he said at last, his voice trembling.

Daeho fell silent, and she felt a tide of memories rise up inside her. She remembered the years they had shared, the times when he was her refuge and she his, the days when nothing could separate them. Daeho had been more than a cousin; he had been her confidant, her best friend. To see him like this, consumed by something she could neither understand nor control, broke her heart.

"You don't have to," he replied softly, but the intensity of his words hit her hard.

(Y/N) wanted to laugh, a bitter, hurt laugh, but instead, she felt the lump in her throat grow larger.

"You said you'd quit it," she reminded him, almost in a sob.

Daeho turned his head toward her, and their eyes met for the first time that night. The look on his face was so devastated that she (Y/N) wished he hadn't looked at her.

"I can't," he admitted, his voice tinged with desperate honesty. "I've tried so many times, and each time...each time I realize I don't want to give it up. I know it's not what you want to hear, but...I'm in too deep. I don't know how to get out, even if I wanted to."

(Y/N) felt the pain in her chest become almost tangible. Seeing him like this, hearing those words, hurt in a way she could never have imagined.

"Why do things have to be like this?" she asked, feeling a lone tear fall down her cheek.

Daeho sighed, a long, exhausted sigh, and hid answer was so raw it seemed ripped from deep within him. "It's what I chose," he murmured. "It may not have been the best decision, but at least it was mine. It's the only thing I really decided for myself...without someone else telling me what to do, who to be. Even if it was for the worse."

She wanted to understand, wanted to see in his words something that would give her comfort, but she couldn't. She couldn't accept that someone who had once been so important to her had been lost like that.

"Don't let it drag you down," he said suddenly, his voice becoming firm. "I made my choices, (Y/N). But you...you have a life you can still build. I'm already too deep, but you...you have a lot ahead of you."

(Y/N) felt a mixture of anger and pain. She couldn't believe he was capable of telling her that, after all.

"You shouldn't keep seeing Jung Jaehyun," he added, in such a serious tone that it took her by surprise.

She looked at him, incredulous, the pain transforming into icy fury. "Get out of my room," he said, pointing to the door.

Daeho nodded, though not without a final sigh of resignation. "I just needed to tell you."

"Just go," she murmured, turning away from him.

He walked out quietly, leaving her in that loneliness that now seemed so much deeper, with the echo of his words echoing in the empty room.

Jaehyun knew it had been a chain of bad decisions and circumstances that had pushed him this far, but facing it was like tearing his skin off. He couldn't deny the truth: he hated everything around him, and he hated himself more than anyone else. His life, a maelstrom of regrets, had dragged him to this point, and try as he might, he could not escape that bitter mix of rage and hopelessness. Sometimes, in his darkest nights, he wished that everything would vanish into emptiness, that the weight of existing would finally disappear.

He wanted, with every fiber of his being, to close that circle.

"Ah, Jaehyun, always a pleasure to see you," Sooman said, leaning back in his chair with an icy, calculating smile, interlocking his hands with the false familiarity of one who controls the board.

Jaehyun felt the poison burn inside him. Disgust twisted his stomach, and that sneering smile of Sooman's only made his insides boil even more. He loathed the man with an intensity he could almost taste on his tongue. He faked a strained smile.

"I could say the same."

Fake it till you make it.

The thought passed fleetingly, and he tried to cling to it, but the hatred ate him.

"The last time we saw each other wasn't very pleasant," Sooman commented, dropping even more comfortably into his chair, as if enjoying the memory. Jaehyun's jaw immediately tensed. The memories of the beatings were still etched on his skin, and in his memory. Pain. Anger. Shame. All jumbled into a poisonous tangle. "That's why I want to make it up to you with a job."

Jaehyun could barely process that he was sitting there, across from Lee Sooman, listening to his offer, swallowing his disgust. He had heard everything Mark Lee had confessed, every word about the dark side of his boss that seemed to have no end. Deep down, all Jaehyun wanted was to make him pay, to see him suffer as he had seen his father, his Uncle Dong, Winwin suffer. Each of them had felt Sooman's merciless fist in their lives, and he was the last piece to fall.

Everything in him screamed to break the balance, to let the anger out. He wanted peace, but at the same time, he wanted to destroy everything.

The tension in Jaehyun's body increased. Make it up to him? The word felt like a taunt, but his voice was controlled, cold.

"What's this about?" asked Jaehyun, exhaling a sigh, as if by releasing the air he could release some of the weight in his chest.

Sooman smiled, with twisted satisfaction, and pulled his chair closer to the desk. "You see, in three weeks I have a trade. Trouble is, I don't want to, nor do I plan to, do it alone. I could take Cheol Uk with me, but I'd rather have him stay here, on this side of the pond...in case things get complicated," he explained, crossing his arms with the arrogant assurance of one who knows he controls all the strings. "And I think you'd be perfect company."

"What kind of exchange?" asked Jaehyun, though deep down he already sensed the answer.

"Weapons."

The shock of that word fell on him like a brick, a weight he couldn't shake. Jaehyun felt his body stiffen. He'd been in dangerous situations before, he'd played with fire and survived, he was a dealer in Neo Zone. But he knew that accepting that would mean crossing an invisible and final line. He would be transformed into someone even more embroiled in the chaos of the gang, with his hands stained with something he could never wash off.

It was hard to resist, but it was just as hard to accept.

"It'll be quick," Sooman continued, studying Jaehyun's every gesture like a predator watching its prey. "Just outside the city. If all goes well, it won't take more than an hour." he noticed the tension in Jaehyun's gaze, the hesitation he was struggling to keep hidden, and leaned toward him slightly. "I'm asking you because I trust you."

The words fell like a taunt. Jaehyun felt his blood boil, how his skin almost throbbed from pent up rage. His right hand clenched into a fist on his leg, trying to restrain the urge to get up and smash something, anything that would allow him to release what was burning inside him. How dare Sooman speak of trust, to pretend there was anything sincere between them? After all the damage he had sown around him?

But what choice did he have left? Deep down, Sooman's control was absolute.

"What's the pay?"

"Enough to cover six months of your friend's rehab," Sooman replied, his eyes locking on Jaehyun's, pressing right where he knew it hurt.

The mention of rehab was the final piece that fell, sealing his fate. Above all else, he needed the money. Above all else, there was someone else needing to get out of hell, and he couldn't let it drop. He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing the pain that mingled with anger and despair.

"I'll do it."

"I knew you wouldn't fail me," Sooman replied, satisfied, with a smile that seemed tainted with venom. "You are just like your father. My trust is in you, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun nodded, feeling the knot in his chest tighten, choking him.

Fake it till you make it.

Roll on, light it up, inhale, exhale.

Roll on, inhale, exhale.

Inhale... exhale.

Inhale.

One, two... three.

Exhale.

Jaehyun coughed loudly as he passed the joint to Lucas, who with shrunken, red eyes took it in his hands without hesitation, taking a puff to hold the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds and slowly draw it out.

In front of them was the panoramic view of SM City, the prominent lights of the northern area made the southern area look small, even though from a distance they didn't seem to be so far apart... so different.

If only that were the case.

"You know you don't have to do it," Lucas muttered, exhaling one last puff of smoke before dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with the toe of his shoe. His gaze, fixed on the ground, hid the trace of worry in his eyes.

Jaehyun continued to stare at the lights of the city, each bright spot fading into the distance, like the possibilities he once had and now seemed to be extinguished. His voice came out almost as a whisper, broken and strained. "It's six months of treatment, Lucas. "Winwin... Winwin has started to move his hand. It's a little acomplishment, I know. But it's a step, and I can't... I can't let that stop now." Each word was an effort, a confession that, deep down, that small breakthrough gave him a hope that felt forbidden in his life.

Lucas was silent for a few seconds, watching Jaehyun's profile, his rigid posture and the shadow of weariness in his gaze. "I thought you didn't want to do anything related to Sooman."

Jaehyun swallowed saliva. He thought so too. He had tried to escape Sooman's influence, that world that brought only destruction, but reality always caught up with him. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and sketched a bitter smile, one that barely disguised the lump forming in his throat.

"I thought so too, but you and Mark have said so, haven't you? If I try to do anything about it, not a week goes by before I'm found with a bullet in my head." His voice cracked in bitterness. "Tell me, what other choice do I have?"

Lucas let out a deep sigh, as if searching for the words amidst a cloud of dark thoughts. Then his voice was firm and determined. "I'll do it."

Jaehyun turned his head in surprise and looked directly at him. His eyes, reddened with fatigue and smoke, met his friend's. Then he let out a dry laugh, without a hint of mirth, and patted him on the back.

"Jaehyun." The name left Lucas' lips grimly, stopping him in his tracks. "I know we've said all our lives that the only one who had a chance of getting out of this shit was Winwin...but we know he's not the only one. Maybe I'm not smart enough, but I know you are. You could go to college, get away from all this. You're good at math, you're good at sports... You've got something out there, something worth more than I could ever have." Lucas looked at him with almost desperate seriousness. "Let me make the trade for you. You've got a lot more to lose."

His friend's words hit him like a truth he had tried to ignore. He pondered them silently, letting each one settle in his mind. He appreciated Lucas' attempt, his desperate proposal to sacrifice his own life to protect him, but he knew he could not allow it.

With an effort, he kept his voice steady, even though he felt each word plunging him deeper into his own emptiness. "I appreciate your... nobility, dude. But I will not let you risk your life to save mine. That's not something I can accept."

Lucas exhaled sharply, frustrated. His words came out cutting, in a last-ditch attempt to talk some sense into him. "Do you want to end up like your father, like Uncle Dong?" The mention of both names made Jaehyun tense, his fists clenching tightly until his knuckles turned white.

Jaehyun didn't respond. He turned around and started walking towards his car, trying to stifle the anger and pain boiling inside him. He could hear Luke's footsteps following him, the echoes of his words echoing in his head.

"We know I'll end up like that someday..." he muttered, without turning around. The resignation in his voice was a shock to both him and his friend.

But then, Lucas said something that forced him to stop, "What about (Y/N)?"

The name made his whole body freeze, (Y/N). He could see her in his mind, feel the warmth of her laughter, the twinkle in her eyes. She was the only light in the midst of his darkness, the only memory he dared to cherish in his loneliest moments. Inside him, where no one else could see him, was where he allowed her to exist, a longing he would never dare to confess.

"There is nothing with her." His voice was a harsh whisper, as if in saying it he was tearing out a piece of himself. He didn't even turn, just let it escape into the wind. "There can't be."

"I thought you were having something," Lucas confessed, stepping closer to stand in front of him, forcing him to look at him. "Maybe you can't see it, but anyone would notice. You don't have to say it, Jaehyun. It shows in your eyes every time you talk about her. You want something with her, anything. You're going to risk that by getting more into this shit?" Lucas waved his hand, almost unable to control himself. "We were doing relatively well selling those packages. At least we could pay for Winwin's treatment. But now... Weapons? What will they ask you to do next? Assaults? Robberies?" his voice deepened, and Jaehyun noticed the fear in his eyes. "Kills? Do you think (Y/N) would want to see you in that hell?"

Jaehyun closed his eyes and took a breath. Lucas' words drilled into him, burned inside him, but he couldn't accept them. He couldn't accept a possibility that he knew would end up hurting (Y/N).

Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at Lucas directly, with a forced coldness that tried to hide the storm inside him. "And what do you want me to do, Lucas? She doesn't deserve a life like mine. She needs to be away from all this...away from me. I could only drag her into this hole from which there is no way out." The words came out fast, almost angrily, but at the end his voice cracked. "I can't offer her anything, do you understand? Nothing worthwhile."

Lucas lowered his gaze, but his voice still reflected desperation to save him. "But you have something to offer, Jaehyun. Your life. A life that can still go somewhere, that can be something different." She looked at him pleadingly. "Don't make the trade. Don't get yourself into this anymore. You have a way out, even if you don't want to see it."

Jaehyun's decision was like a stone inside him, a sinking certainty, but it was the only thing that gave him stability at the moment. He averted his gaze to the city lights and quietly sealed his fate.

"I have to do it." The determination in his voice was unwavering. "It's already decided."

Lucas watched him silently, with a sadness so deep it was almost palpable. He knew, deep inside him, that he was losing another friend. The night closed in around them and under the stars, as the lights of the city shone in the distance, he knew that, in some sense, he had already lost his friend.

When (Y/N) got out of Jungwoo's car, the roars of the engines echoed in her ears, but despite the noise, her mind was somewhere else, anchored in a memory. The first time she set foot in Neo Zone, it had been a curiosity, an adventure she didn't fully understand. Now, that same place seemed just as intimidating, but different. This time she was not an outsider spectator. This time, she was there for him.

People's gazes were instantly fixed on her. Some with curiosity, others with disdain. The gleam in her eyes was not the same as those of the "normals" around her in her world. No, here the gazes were sharper, like knives, trying to strip her of her essence, her privilege. She felt out of place, and though in some corner of her mind she knew she would never be part of this world, at that moment all she cared about was finding him. Jaehyun.

The lights of the cars reflected the tense and charged atmosphere of the race track, where the local gangs came to show off their cars and gamble more than they should. She knew what she was up against, and if she had learned anything over the past few months, it was that, in that place, the rules were few, but fierce.

So she wasn't surprised when a familiar and unpleasant face emerged from the crowd. Chris, with that sly grin, who always seemed to have a second purpose behind every word.

"Well, look what we have here," he said, his voice laden with derision. "After Johnny's party, I didn't expect you to be one od Jaehyun's toys."

( Y/N) tried to keep her cool, her body rigid and her gaze steady. There was something about that guy that always made her feel small, as if his words were thorns thrown on purpose. But she had no time for games now. She wasn't here to confront Chris, only to find Jaehyun. "Let me through, Chris," she said, her voice cold, firm.

But he didn't let her go so easily. He stepped between her and the pass, and his hand brazenly strayed to her waist. A touch she didn't ask for, a brush she didn't want.

"Oh no, baby," he said, his tone low, like a challenge. "I think you owe me a debt for that punch you gave me, remember?"

( Y/N) she felt irritation bubbling inside her, but she wasn't going to lose her composure. Not here, not now. But she wasn't going to give in either. "Let go of me, or I swear I'll hit you again," she retorted, pushing lightly against his chest, hands firm. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was what she had to do. She wasn't going to let Chris touch her.

Chris laughed, but it wasn't a genuine laugh. It was mocking, calculating, as if he enjoyed the power he thought he had over her. "Can you imagine what Jaehyun will think when he sees me with one of his toys?" The malice in his voice left no room for doubt. He knew what he was doing, and he knew he had something he could use against her.

( Y/N) didn't answer right away. Her gaze wandered, searching through the crowd, and there, like a magnet, she found him. Jaehyun. He was far away, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his presence. And it wasn't just any glimpse, no. She knew she had seen him. His posture was rigid, his face annoyed, his eyes burning with a silent fire.

"Turn around to find out for yourself," Jaehyun said, his deep voice cutting through the air. It was not a suggestion. It was an order, firm, authoritative. At that moment, the threat was clear. "Let her go and get the fuck out of herr if you don't want that fucking smile wiped off your face. Remember, you're in my zone."

Chris hesitated for a second, then let go of (Y/N), as if Jaehyun's presence was a steel wall repelling him. Looking at Jaehyun as if he would challenge him, but knowing that this was not his territory. Jaehyun's area, yes, but not his.

Before walking away, however, he couldn't help but throw one last malice-laden glance towards (Y/N). "Call me when you get tired of him, gorgeous," he said venomously, not caring that his words were only empty provocation.

When Chris finally disappeared into the crowd, (Y/N) didn't hesitate for a second. He walked straight towards Jaehyun, until she was right behind him, the sound of his footsteps drowned out by the bustle of the arena. Feeling his presence so close gave her a strange sense of calm, but also aroused an uneasiness she didn't know how to handle.

Jaehyun turned slowly toward her. His expression was hard to read, but the frustration was evident. As always, he was trying to maintain control, but he couldn't hide the annoyance. In one swift movement, he grabbed her wrist, holding it firmly, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, anger tinged with palpable discomfort. His tone was low, dangerous. He wasn't saying it out loud for all to hear, but it was as if his words cut through the air between them.

( Y/N) felt a knot in her stomach. The worry, the confusion, the need to explain herself, but also the frustration of knowing that she had no right to be there, that this world was not hers. However, she could not lie. "I was looking for you," she said, without thinking, without fear of what that might mean.

"You weren't answering my calls. I wanted to know how you were..." she confessed, feeling Jaehyun pull her gently through the crowd to get her away from the people.

Finally, after pushing through the sea of people, they found themselves in a quieter corner. Jaehyun let go of her hand and turned to face her.

It was at that moment that he saw the pain reflected in her eyes. The girl, her gaze fixed on him, fiddled nervously with her fingers, as if trying to calm her anxiety.

"(Y/N), I'm fine. You didn't have to come and get into this," he told her in a low voice.

"You could have answered my calls," she demanded, her voice strained. "I didn't know how you were after what happened at my house almost a week ago."

Jaehyun looked her straight in the eye and slowly denied.

"That night I shouldn't have gone to your house."

What...?

"What are you talking about, Jaehyun?" she asked, almost in a whisper, surprised by those words.

Because deep down he knew he was right. That night he shouldn't have crossed that line, shouldn't have sought comfort from her, shouldn't have allowed the girl to sneak into his head and heart like that. He should not have allowed the closeness between them to make him vulnerable.

He shouldn't have thought he deserved something like that.

Because he didn't. He never would.

"Why is it that every time we seem to be moving forward, you decide to pull back?" she asked him, her voice breaking.

"Because there shouldn't be an us, (Y/N)," Jaehyun replied, serious, as if the words hurt him as much as they hurt her. "And you know it."

She tried to process what she had just heard, but her mind was still spinning, entwined with thoughts that wouldn't leave her alone. Coming here, meeting him...it had all been a whirlwind. Her cousin's words that morning still echoed in her mind.

That was not what she had expected to hear from Jaehyun.

"No, Jaehyun. I don't know," she said, frustrated, her eyes flashing with a mixture of confusion and anger. "All I know is that there's something inside me that binds me to you. I always end up looking for something in you, something I don't understand. And the least I understand is that you somehow get close and then walk away like it's nothing."

She moved closer to him and, with a trembling finger, pressed it against his chest, accusingly.

"If I walk away it's because you don't need this life, (Y/N)," he told her, with a painful tenderness in his voice. "I can't give you the life you want."

"I'm not asking you for anything extraordinary, Jaehyun," she replied, almost begging for him to understand. "I'm not asking you for more than what we already are."

Jaehyun looked at her, searching her eyes as if he wanted her to understand something beyond words. With the distance between them so short that their breaths were intertwined, he continued with a sigh.

"But look at me, (Y/N), look at us," he said softly. "I'll never be able to offer you the life you're used to. And I don't want you to get used to mine, because it's not something you deserve." Her voice deepened. "You don't know what it's like to live with necessities, without luxuries. It's not something I can ask you to change or sacrifice for me."

She bit her lower lip, trying to take in what she had just heard.

She was silent for a few seconds, biting her lower lip as her mind tried to process every word Jaehyun had just said. Her chest felt tight, as if his words were a weight on her, an uncomfortable truth that hurt, but one she knew she couldn't ignore.

Jaehyun closed his eyes.

"No, I don't," she finally admitted, looking down at the floor. "I don't know what it's like to live with those hardships..."

Silence fell between them again. The distant murmur of people seemed to grow farther and farther away, as if the world around them was fading away.

"(Y/N), you deserve better than this. Something more... something more stable. I can't be that something for you," Jaehyun said, his voice trembling for an instant.

She realized what he meant. She knew it wasn't just about the material. She knew that what Jaehyun was telling her went beyond external difficulties. He didn't want to be a risk to her, didn't want her life to be dragged down by the uncertainty, by the confusion he himself felt.

"And yet... I can't stop looking for you," she murmured, with a sad, almost defeated smile. "I don't understand what's wrong with me, Jaehyun. I don't understand why everything seems clearer when I'm around you, but then it blurs, it becomes all so confusing."

Jaehyun watched her, unable to find the right words. All he knew was that there was an undeniable connection between them, something even he couldn't explain. But, at the same time, he couldn't deny the fear he felt that this connection would drag them into something neither of them could control.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, his words sounding almost like an apology to himself. "I really am sorry."

She stared at him, as if she expected him to say something else, something that might make sense of everything she felt. But he didn't. Instead, the air between them was filled with a quiet awkwardness.

"So what do we do now?" she asked, voice cracking, but determined not to give up.

Jaehyun took a deep breath, staring ahead as if searching for some answer in the void. "I don't know. But I need you to understand that I don't want to hurt you. I don't want you to end up trapped in my world..."

She denied slowly, not looking away. "So is that it, then, we're just going to keep taking a step forward and then step back? Is that what you want?"

"It's not that," Jaehyun replied, somewhat at a loss. "It's just that I can't offer you what you deserve."

"What about what I want?" she said, on an impulse that surprised her. "Because all I want...is to be with you."

Her words hit him hard. Jaehyun couldn't say he felt the same way, not in the same way. But he couldn't help but think that, maybe, if they both allowed themselves to take that leap... maybe things could be different.

"I'm telling you that I can't give you what you want," he repeated, now with a slight desperation in his tone. "And yet, I feel like I can't walk away from you."

She looked at him silently for a few seconds, trying to find some answer that wouldn't leave her more confused. Finally, she took a step back, letting the air between them grow colder.

"So... what do we do, Jaehyun?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Because I don't know if I can keep waiting for something I don't know if it's coming."

Jaehyun looked at her, his heart pounding. He could see the pain in her eyes, and it broke him inside. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't drag her down with him, couldn't ask her to settle for something he couldn't offer.

"The only thing I can do now...is tell you the truth," he said, almost breathlessly. "I'm not going to drag you into my life without you knowing what you're getting into."

She stood still, staring at the floor, as if processing every word. An invisible weight seemed to fall on her shoulders, and though her thoughts were chaotic, a small part of her knew she had to make a decision.

"So, you decide for me?" she asked, raising her head, her eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and sadness.

Jaehyun said nothing. His silence was answer enough.

Finally, Jaehyun, his throat tightening, slowly pulled away, knowing that any further attempts to get closer would only cause more pain. "I'm sorry," he said one last time, almost as a whisper, and took a step back.

And (Y/N) watched him walk away, her heart heavy, knowing there was nothing more to do. She stood alone in that dark corner of Neo Zone, with the noise of the engines rumbling around her, like a distant echo of the emotional storm she had just experienced.

a/n: I hope you liked even though in took me weeeeeeks to post hahaha, love y'all! NOT PROOFREAD! I’ve been sitting down like 4 hours trying to come with the chapter so now I’ll go to sleep 😴.

taglist is open! if you want to be added just lemme know;)

taglist: @spicyryujin @daegalismybiasinnct @peachfulnight @gojoscumslut @bluedbliss @dear-97 @girlwholovespreppyattire @hana-off-icial @cigarettesafterjae @beomgyusonlywife @bts-iris @doejaejung @methneo @kriizztin @mrsuhnshine @pieddpiperr (idk why some of the tags just don’t work out!)

If you want to ask me something, feel free to send them!

[tkwrites]

Okay I'm done now and heading to bed, one last question.

Can you name a favourite fic for each of the boys?

Hi my Lovely,

There are quite a few of your asks I haven't answered, but please know I'm not ignoring them. They'll just take a little more time to respond to.

I can tell you my favorite fics, though:

Matthew Tkachuk - Back To You because it's such a complete story. I love the way he and Jessie meet, lose each other, and then are thrown together by fate again. I also feel like I really captured that sassy side of Matthew's personality in this fic, which I was really worried about at the time I was writing it. This is also the story that I think would be easiest to flesh out into a full length novel.

Nico Hischier - I love all the parts of his story for different reasons, but I think It Doesn't Matter Part II is my favorite. I had actually written the whole sequence of nude sketches for another character, but ended up scrapping the whole story because I couldn't find any real conflict for them to resolve. When I realized I could use it for Nico and Lena if she was an artist, I was thrilled and got to work rewriting it for them. In the end, the only things that stayed the same were 5 of the 6 poses. Getting into and out of them changed, as did the characters relating to each other during them. I love all the longing and awkward tension between them in this piece, as well as how they finally end up confessing their love for each other. Finally, the culmination of all of their longing into the final sex scene? Chefs kiss.

Quinn Hughes - This one is so hard. I've written so much about Quinn and Sarah and I love all of the pieces for one reason or another. If I had to pick three favorites, they would be:

1). Five Days of Joy because I'm so proud of this fic. It took SO long to write, but I love the way it turned out. I love that we go through so many consecutive days and such a gamut of emotions with Sarah and Quinn.

2). The Second Time is Better because I love the portrayal of a more real first time. One of the things that drives me batty about romance novels is how the characters get together and always seem to have this instantly amazing sexual connection. No room for human failing or first time jitters. In reality, it takes time to build sexual chemistry and connection, and I went into this piece wanting to show at least some of that.

and 3). Second Nature because I think it has the prettiest prose. I still think this passage is some of the best writing I've ever done:

This was ultimate flirting in Quinn’s book. Something he knew he could do. When someone wanted to talk about music, or art or classic cars, he was a fish out of water. But talking hockey? He could do that all day long. Convincing someone to like the sport he loved so much? There wasn't a more ideal situation. 

“Oh, good,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him. 

This was a perfect evening. Casual and comfortable. Cooking for someone he - liked, and kissing her whenever he wanted, taking no worry of who might be watching. 

Letting himself get swept up in the kiss, he slid his hands over her hips and tried to commit her scent to memory. No matter what happened - though he was pretty sure nothing bad was ever going to happen with Sarah - he wanted to remember this. She smelled like a dream he’d had as a boy. Like vanilla and warm skin and fireside, summer nights. It was an outlandish notion, but he couldn’t shake it. 

All her life, Sarah had read stories about star-crossed, fated lovers thrown together by chance and circumstance and serendipity. But those were all just stories. Even when her grandpa talked about meeting her grandma - like they were always meant to be together, and just had to find each other to make it happen - it seemed like folklore. A tall tale he spun to make their love story seem more epic. 

After writing all this out, I realized perhaps you meant favorite writing from other authors. Let me know if that's something you'd like me to answer.

[moistvonlipwig]

OUAT Week Day 4: Favorite Plot Twist

The first season of OUAT tells us that Regina adopted Henry and raised him for ten years without ever having any idea that his biological mother was Snow White's daughter, the woman prophesied to bring about her downfall.

The third season of OUAT reveals that this isn't entirely true.

In 3.09 "Save Henry," we learn that Regina found out the identity of Henry's birth mother shortly after taking him home. Frightened by the tangible connection to Emma Swan and Snow White living in her house, she tried to take him back to the adoption agency, but in the end she couldn't leave him there. She chose Henry, knowing he was related to her greatest enemies, knowing his presence in her life would no doubt ensure his birth mother's eventual arrival and her own subsequent downfall. What's more, she then chose to forget that she knew this -- thus leaving herself even more vulnerable to Emma Swan -- so that she could, as she said, "put her own troubles aside and put her child first."

By this point in the show, of course, we know that Regina loves Henry; even if some of the audience weren't convinced by her declaration that she does in the pilot, she's proven it time and again throughout Seasons 1, 2, and 3. But it's not until "Save Henry" that we understand just how much she had already given up for him before Emma even came to Storybrooke. Even as a villain who had not yet begun to redeem herself, Regina still chose Henry over the curse and her revenge, ten years before the series began. Regina herself may not remember the events of this episode's flashbacks, but they change the audience's perspective on her character and her relationship with Henry for good, and confirm for us with absolute certainty that no matter what, she will always put Henry first.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 35 - Saviors

The rogue swoops in.

On AO3.

He scents her blood. Before he catches the first thumping of distant hearts, before he lays eyes (ha!) on so much as a single drow, her blood reaches his nose and hits him like a runaway carriage. Normally rich and strong, this is sour. Thin. His dead heart almost manages a strained lurch.

The blood scent gets thicker as he sprints. A continuous flow, and fresh. That means she isn’t dead. And it doesn’t carry the stink of bowels or that heavy scent that comes from a bleed from the deep arteries, the last of a body’s reservoirs spilling out.

It still makes the beds of his fingernails ache.

It’s been all nine hells getting the damned beastie to follow him. Not the following part, exactly—it was quite happy to take up that challenge. It was the part where Astarion has to outpace the thing without said beastie snapping off his heels or taking a chunk out of his backside. He’s near running dry; his skin wraps tight around his body, veins standing out like purple lines down his arms and along the backs of his hands. He’s all muscle and bone.

He’s seen it before, many times. He’s lived in a near constant state of it for all he can remember. He’s seen it worse than that—skin split without so much as a drop of blood to well up, all pale, dead meat and sinew and bone—

He’s not locked away now, though. He’s got a monster after him and the promise of incredible violence before him, and that carries him on.

The drow do notice, of course. By the time he’s close enough for his vampiric senses to hone in on the bright, shining life before him, the cacophony of his leader’s birdshark burrowing after him sends them scurrying.

No matter.

He draws his bow—on the run, and he hopes she’s watching this—and finds the connection to his leader.

“Hello, darling!” Her hero has arrived.

He fires. Takes a drow in the throat (good gods, but he’s thirsty).

Shots hiss towards him. They’ve made camp in a ring with no fire, but at this distance, they’ll be able to see him in the gloom with their normal darkvision. He reaches the shallow depression they’ve found and throws himself into a spinning dive. Lands. Takes the impact as those arrows fly overhead. He’s already drawn his next shot.

One of them moves in the back, a man, and Eleanor’s blood scent clings to him like a damning miasma. Astarion shoots that one in the leg. Doesn’t want to kill him. The arrow will pin muscles together and make the limb difficult to move. A hunt is all very well and good, but as his leader has acknowledged several times (so very sensible, that one), a predator does enjoy an easier meal when they can take one.

And there she is. Bound tight, face a mess of wet blood and bruises. But it’s the look she wears that gives him pause. Though the swelling and gore, she looks at him. Stares up at him in a way no one ever has before. Not with lust or desire, not with scorn or disgust, not even the tiny smile he sometimes coaxes out of her that makes him feels strange. She looks…broken open. Vulnerable. A strange mix of home and shame.

Then a sword comes flashing out of the dark towards his neck and Astarion has to bend over backwards, pivot in, and unsheathe a knife to stick it up, under the ribs of a drow.

At which point the birdshark erupts behind him and plows into the camp. Things go a bit chaotic.

There’s shouting and a scream. A purple flash of magic and a voice echoes with a thunderous roar—that’d be the priestess. The birdshark chitters and a woman screams again (that’s a death sound if he’s ever heard one).

Astarion ducks low and sprints. The other drow ignore him for just a moment—the birdshark bites into someone and hot blood manages to spray across camp to spatter the back of his neck and it smells delightful.

Then he’s there. To her. She tries to say something, but her mouth doesn’t shape her words right.

“Hold still,” he says. Finds her hands—her fingers are dark and thick. He places a knife to the rope and slices carefully. It falls away.

And she screams.

He’s never heard her scream like that. Shout in fear, squawk in surprise or outrage, and swear filthily enough to put a deckhand to shame.

Not this. Not in such…outright agony. His death-cool skin prickles from the crown of his head all the way down his spine.

“Darling?”

Her hands. Her teeth clench so hard the muscles of her jaw bulge. Her eyes water anew, even clenched shut, and she rolls in the dirt, teeth bared. He hovers over her, hands frozen by her side. Something much like panic flashes through him. Because he doesn’t know…

Living flesh. She has living flesh and flowing blood. It gathered in her hands bound like that, and he’s just released it all on one, fell swoop, shit.

The drow are still fighting a rampaging birdshark. It’s got another woman in its mouth, flinging her about like a ratting dog with a rodent. Astarion rips open his bag. Finds a bottle. Uncorks it with his teeth and spits that to the side as he reaches for his leader, hauls her close to his chest.

Tears stream down her purple cheeks.

He tries to smile. Tries to smooth his voice to casual, but it cracks when he says, “Come now, that kind of pain really doesn’t look good on you, darling.”

She catches sight of the potion. Still has enough in her to lift her cracked and swollen lips (even now, a niggling part of him want to lick the blood off them). He holds her tight as she makes the first, small sips. Holds her tight even as she gulps down the rest. And then she falls back. Cursing as new flesh seeks to correct itself.

He senses movement behind him. Whirls and lifts his knife to block a very muscular drow swinging down at him with a curved short sword. He’s a strong one. The arms master, forearms dotted with what Astarion assumes are training scars, thin and pale against his deep, lilac skin.

Astarion manages to parry, but the man lashes out with a foot, catches him in the shoulder, and he just manages to turn it into a roll (right over his leader).

The man follows. Swinging again before Astarion can regain his feet. He throws himself down, manages a roll, and comes up right as the blade scrapes down the back of his new armor.

Eleanor sits up, fumbling with something at her feet. She’s bound to a stake. Won’t be able to untie it, not with those fingers. That healing potion will have taken off the edge, but her flesh is still damaged.

He reaches for his second knife, shoves a thought at her, and throws it. Sticks it blade-first into the dirt just beside her.

And then the drow is on him again.

Gods, he’s fast. Far faster than something that bulky should be. This still wouldn’t be a problem for him, normally. Astarion is faster than mortals, even under that bastard. Not now. Not after running for at least a day, body shriveled and tissues screaming. It’s all he can do to keep just out of range of that sword.

He’s good with his knives. Or knife, rather (she’s cut herself free from the tether, saws through the ropes on her feet and falls back with another cry, and Astarion has a casual relationship with murder most times, but right now…)

He tests the arms master. Tries darting in at a few different angles. But the bastard is well-versed in his craft and keeps Astarion at the edge of his reach. Double shit. He backs further away. Keeps the arms master focused on him.

“You’re quite good at this,” he says. Gives a little hum, the one he can usually combine with a casual touch to elicit a blush in a lonely tavern crawler. “Are you good with all forms of swordplay, I wonder?”

Annoyance flashes through the thick man’s expression. “Silence, traitor.”

It’s his turn to press his advantage. Comes in with a jab and a swipe. Astarion manages to spin away from the first and counter the second.

“I do love spicy food,” he says. Licks his lips just slow enough for the man to catch it. “I’ve often wondered what a dark elf might taste like.”

“Keep up your prattle and I’ll give you a taste of my blade as I slice out your tongue. Perhaps my matron mother can keep it as a token.”

He comes in again. Still testing. Unsure of Astarion’s ability, probably wondering why he can’t see heat within him. That’ll keep him cautious until he sniffs out how Astarion is starting to flag. Behind him, Eleanor rises into a crawl. Looks around at the chaos, the huddle of drow trying to get in to hack at the birdshark, their priestess firing blasts of magic. They won’t be able to run. Not with her in that condition, and not with Astarion as he is, either.

Then she spots something, and his own mind lights up in tandem with hers.

Something else moves in the gloom. Not fighting, not bleeding, and not dying. Large and low slung, a pointed snout sloping up to a sleek head and a streamlined crest. The saddle still sits upon its back—this was to be a temporary rest, then.

The drowic riding lizard.

He giggles. Not the one to keep a mark talking, or when he’s playing at being coy. Not the one twisted in nerves when he tries so desperately to explain a failure, a mistake. Not even the odd one, almost genuine, that his leader pulls out of him. This is deep-seated. Sharp. Macabre enough that said leader stops to look back at him with her puffy eyes.

His leader has been slung over that beast. She knows what it is. He knows, or has heard, that they can be swift. And if they get that lizard and leave the drow to continue on foot…

The arms master is suddenly there. Astarion doesn’t flail back—barely—but he does have to scurry. Take a hit on his gauntleted forearm that cracks off a splinter of bone inside him. Use that to grab the weapon and twist. But the arms master has earned his presumed title, and manages a twist of his own. He wrenches the weapon back. The blade bites into Astarion’s fingers even as he lets go.

He gasps.

“Surrender,” the arms master says.

Astarion grins. “Oh darling, you haven’t even bought me a drink, yet.”

He’s circling to the right, now. Edging himself back towards the center of camp. The arms master follows in a low guard. And then his eyes widen. His teeth pull back in a snarl, and Astarion realizes that while, yes, this puts himself closer to the riding lizard, it also means the thick man can see past him to Eleanor making her way towards it.

Well.

“Sister!” the arms master says.

Astarion has no time to glance over to the last place he saw the priestess. The drow charges him. Barrels right into his guard. Doesn’t even swing the sword or try to skewer Astarion through the intestines. He comes in close. And he does it so swiftly Astarion can do little more than lift his blade to score a line up the man’s forearm.

They crash together. The shorter man has weight on him, and they both tumble to the ground.

He’s pressed down beneath hot flesh. The scent of blood and sweat. Scorching hands on him, grabbing. A large body pressing, a knee digging into his thigh. All the times he submitted to this. Feigned passion, little gasps and moans, bucking into a hold like this as if he wanted it. As if what was left of he, himself, didn’t long to crawl out of his skin, split himself open and let the misshapen creature he held inside—the last vestige of himself—flee into the night.

Hot breath on him. A grunt in his ear. Can’t resist. Must never resist. He’s a thing to be used. This is all he’s good at, all he’s made for. He needs to let himself go slack and go somewhere else until this is over. Let two hundred years of rote memory slide into place to guide his body in his absence.

His armor digs into his neck as a hand wraps around his throat.

His armor.

No threadbare, ancient finery. No worn silks, the embroidery frayed at the edges despite his best efforts. No lace cuffs or frilled necklines to hide the marks no one ever seems to notice, not in dark alleys stinking of ale and piss and stale sex. No. He’s in armor. Because he’s not bound to service any more. He’s been conveniently lost. He’s tasted the blood of thinking creatures and felt the strength it brings surging through his dead veins, filling out his flesh, a long-neglected plant tasting fresh water for the first time in centuries.

He’s not helpless. Not anymore.

And he doesn’t have to lie here.

The drow has one of Astarion’s arms pinned to his side by his meaty leg. The other held in his grasp, the man’s hand on Astarion’s throat to choke him. He’s so lost in a battle haze, he doesn’t register how cool Astarion’s skin is (they never do).

Astarion twists his arm. Not to escape. The man’s weight presses the limb down hard, and his bones grind together. But he gets his palm up.

He still has air in his lungs. Stopped breathing the moment they went down.

He goes still and limp. All quite suddenly. The arms master registers this and the hint of a frown forms on his brow. That’s not how strangulation works. Bodies instinctively fight it all the way to the end. They gasp. They grasp. They kick and buck and flail.

They do not give up. They do not make eye contact and grin.

And they don’t rasp out, with the last air still held within their dead lungs, “Ignis.”

Fire blooms in his palm. The man’s eyes widen. He lets go, tries to push off, but it’s too late.

The firebolt catches him in the face. He twists at the last second, manages to limit it to one side of his face. But it’s a hit. And he screams. Throws himself back. Beats at the flames and falls to the ground.

And as much as Astarion would love to stand over the man and watch his flesh melt, he does have pressing business elsewhere.

Namely, his leader now by the lizard, grappling with the other man, the one Astarion shot in the leg. The one that carries the scent of her blood.

He races across the camp.

The slight man has her on her back. One foot in his grasp. As Astarion closes the distance, she kicks out with the other. As always, she’s a focused, vicious little thing. Doesn’t aim for the knee or even the bollocks. She goes for the broken shaft of the arrow still jutting out (he must have snapped off the rest).

The man howls. Staggers, cursing. But doesn’t let go.

Then Astarion is there. He still has one knife. He drives it up, through the soft underside of the man’s jaw.

It’s not enough to kill him. No punch and scrape of blade into bone. But it’s certainly enough for the man to drop Eleanor’s foot.

He stinks of her blood. Her nose was broken. Even Astarion can add one and one and arrive at two.

His leader doesn’t even pause. She’s already up, scrambling for the lizard. Pauses only a moment at the saddle and the stirrups—all the things he’s seen of her world, and do they even ride animals like this? Apparently they do. She slips her foot in, cursing and grimacing, and manages to haul herself up. She rather crashes over the back of the animal. But she’s up and that’s all that matters. She pauses again to reach for the saddlebag and dig ferociously through it. Lets out a soft “oof” sound when she pulls free the flask containing her soul.

Horses don’t like Astarion. Something about the smell of grave dirt and faint decay. He’s fairly certain his own dislike for the beasts was well-established before his early death. He’s seen people ride them, of course. Knows one sits in a saddle and uses the leather around its head to steer it. He’s not certain a lizard works the same way—until his leader takes up those leather straps, only fumbling once, and makes a face he’s learned means “I hope this isn’t wrong.”

The birdshark makes a last, piteous shriek. The air vibrates as it dives back, into the ground with a booted foot still in its mouth. Leaving Astarion, his leader, and the man still skewered on his knife—it’s almost adorable how he thrashes—the sole focus of the remaining six (well, five, since the arms master is still writhing around on the ground) drow.

No time for delicacy. He hops and slithers up behind her. Has to grab her shoulder to brace himself as he hauls the struggling man up to join them, pins the man onto his lap.

“The fuck?” his leader says, twisting around to stare. He recognizes the last word as a curse.

“Go!” he says.

The priestess shouts. The air trembles. Astarion grabs his leader and pushes her down, but the green light of a spell hits her and explodes above them in a shimmering X.

“Go, darling!” he says.

She makes a sound, some sort of command? But the lizard only stands there, motionless.

Then the skinny drow, amidst struggling and muffled screams (it’s hard to get the sound out properly with one’s mouth filled with a blade) kicks. He mostly hits air. But he also connects with the lizard. The beast’s crest fans wide and its head juts out.

Astarion has no memory of riding a horse. Most of the ones inside the city lumber about at a walk. And yet, he’s quite certain none of them leap off as quickly as this lizard. One moment, they stand there as drow charge them. The next, he’s all but flung backwards out of the saddle as his leader plows into him. And it’s only thanks to his vampiric reflexes that he catches himself on the edge of the saddle and keeps them all from rolling right across the thing’s back to crash to the ground.

Off the lizard charges, into the dark, with the drow and their priestess shouting after them.

Astarion cannot contain himself any longer. He lets out a whoop.

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 70

First / Previous / Next

Fen awoke to Ma standing over her, smiling with her eyes. "Fenchurch, you really know how to get into a mess, you know that right?"

Fen sat up. Here, she didn't hurt. "What can I say Ma? I'm tired of being told what to do, and am doing things that I want to do."

She nodded once and put her hand out to help her up. "Good. You're learning." Fen stood up and looked around. It was the same old place it always was, but they were alone in the forest. "It'll be hard though."

"hmm?" Fen wasn't listening.

"Doing things that you want to do. It's hard. It's easier to just listen to everyone else and do what they say."

Fen chuckled. "That's hard too Ma. No matter what I pick, it's hard."

"Yes," Ma agreed. "That's life."

Fen came back, pain still there, disorientation still there, but now she was also floating in space. Her suit was helpfully flashing all kinds of warnings about being adrift in space but she was able to dismiss them. The beacons on her head and shoulders flashed to alert any potential rescuers that she was out here, but scans from the - admittedly - low power radar on the suit indicated she was alone.

Except she wasn't.

Where once there was just her expeditionary force and the white hole was now a... nebula.

It was beautiful.

No, more than that, it was stunning. Rainbow colors, swirling, dancing around her, visible in every direction. She was awash in a sea of color. But why? Was it the nanites?

As she floating in space, Fen stared at once location while time passed. She was sure that the nebula was very slowly moving. With a gasp that turned into a coughing fit, she realized what she was seeing.

It was a war.

The Nanites and Han'iel's nanites had consumed the entirety of the expeditionary force as raw material, and were now around her in the tens of trillions, fighting. The concentration of machines was so dense that she could see them.

Fen thought to herself, well okay Fenchurch. You came back here and you're making your own decisions now. So now what? Fen thought about the implant. It would make a dent in the volume of nanites here, and might be the tipping point to end the battle, but was she ready to do that? No. Not yet at least. Besides, if she did that now the virus in her body would never spread. She had to get closer.

Ugh, but how? The suit had maneuvering jets, but they weren't meant to be used for millions of kilometers. She could link again and get closer, but then that would be it. She'd be stuck. She queried the suit. 'Power options?'

INTERNAL BATTERIES 80%. USEFUL LIFE AT CURRENT POWER OUTPUT - 100 SOL STANDARD DAYS.

Well. At least she's starve to death before she froze to death. She tried again. 'Are the batteries sufficient to operate the wormhole link backpack?'

QUERYING... NEGATIVE. SUIT BATTERIES WOULD BE DEPLETED.

'Recharging options?'

CONNECT TO POWER ON SHIP OR STATION.

Ugh, it didn't have like, solar panels or anything? Fen had no idea about suit design, but she felt like something like that as a last resort would have been useful. 'Radio?'

LOCAL AREA ONLY. NO SIGNALS IN RANGE CURRENTLY.

Dammit. It turned out that an emergency rescue spacesuit wasn't just a teeny spaceship after all.

While Fen was working through her options and arguing with her suit, the nebula slowly came closer to her. She noticed as the color outside her face shield changed, and she looked up and gasped. What she had thought was a slow wheeling progression of the nebula was actually the nanites moving at tremendous speed. They had traversed the distance to her in less than two hours. Before she realized what was happening, the swirl of color surrounded her suit. Red warnings flashed in her vision SUIT INTEGRITY COMPROMISED. SUIT INTEGRITY COMPROMISED. Her suit was being eaten for material.

"Oh fuck." She said aloud, "now you've done it."

Ah, Empress. You are alive after all. The voice was practically liquid in its smugness.

"I could say the same thing about you. How goes the war with Han'iel's creation?"

We persevere, Fen. We were built well.

"Oh goody. You can talk to me as well." Fen sighed. "Well, as it appears that I am being consumed for raw materials in your battle, you had better say your pieces before I'm gone entirely."

Gone? You're not going anywhere. You forget we can manipulate matter on any scale.

Don't worry Fen. Once these nanites are destroyed, we will take good care of you. Han'iel's nanites spoke to her with a K'laxi accent. Almost but not quite sounding like Han'iel himself.

Take care of you? They can't even tak-- Her original nanites started to argue again but stopped sudddenly. What did you do?

"Whatever do you mean?" Fen said innocently, while grinning wickedly. It was going to work.

You have introduced a... pathogen. How?

"Don't worry about how, worry about your own damn survival now. I don't even care that I'm out in space alone because I got you. Neither of you will be able to come up with a counter in time."

We shall see about that.

Both of the nanites pulled out of her mind quickly, without taking care to be gentle. Through the blinding headache they left, Fen was laughing. It worked! It really worked! Her idea worked! "See Ma? I did it! I beat them. Not Gord, not the Empire, ME!" She shouted.

Before her eyes, the nebula changed. Rather than a dancing, swirling rainbow colored cloud, it was slowly - but surely - turning gray. The virus was taking over the nanites, using them to make more, and then disassembling what was left.

Fen floated, between the black and the gray, and watched them die.

****

"They think we have Fen!" Chloe shouted, as Gord took control of the ship's operation to dodge the attacks.

"Well, we kinda did." Gord said, trying to keep his voice reasonable as he concentrated.

"We - you - saved her life!"

"Yes. but they don't know that, Chloe. We never told them. I was going to, but then there was the nanite thing, and we had to put her in hibernation, and then the virus... I dropped the ball." Gord did the virtual equivalent of a shrug. "They don't usually shoot first and ask questions later though."

"They don't? Gord, are we talking about the same humans?"

"Okay okay, sometimes they do. Open a channel, I'll explain it."

"They closed communication." Chloe scanned the logs. "Looks like they opened all frequencies and asked for an explanation... and someone told them to kick rocks."

"Who?"

Chloe shook her head. "Don't know. They were far away, probably out near Jupiter or further. They were on at least a couple minute delay."

"Dammit!" Gord swore and went over to the comm set. He set the power output to full and opened all the channels. As he did so, he moved some relays and rerouted power from the reactor. As environmental powered down, his array powered up. Across Sol, everyone's comm array was overcome with static. Media players, comm arrays, and even some larger metallic structures all obeyed his command. For now, Gord was the Loudest thing in Sol. "Attention Humanity. We do not have Empress Fenchurch. We did, but she left on her own. If you stop shooting and take an Ancestors damned BREATHER, we can discuss this." Gord cut the connection and put the power back where it was. Times like this he was annoyed that he couldn't snap a physical toggle closed. It was much more satisfying.

****

"Empress?!" The weapons officer looked over at Penny.

Penny was trying very hard to hide her expression, but she didn't have Fen's experience. Her eyes were giving it away, Zhe noticed. She was frightened out of her mind. "S-Stand down. Weapons to idle."

As the weapons powered down, and the ship got off of its battle footing, one of the younger officers eye's went wide. "Empress... you should see this," and gestured. She and Zhe looked down at their pads.

And stared at the stardrive of Home.

Before Home was the... well, home of the AIs, it was a colony ship. Nearly a third the size of High Mars Hyacinth, it was designed to streak through interstellar space, bringing thirty thousand humans in hibernation and enough supplies to start up at least three cities. Six were launched, three made it, one blew up just outside of Sol, and two were lost. This was one of them. In order to thrust up to 50% of C, the colony ships had positively titanic star drives. Large enough to swallow a Starjumper, their exhaust would streak behind for hundreds of kilometers when under full thrust.

And one was pointed directly at them.

They hadn't planned on running, they had planned on lighting their stardrive, Zhe realized with a shudder. Her fur puffed out in fear. She knew the value of the human's old drives as a weapon. She looked over at Penny; she hadn't figured it out. Zhe flicked her ears in irritation. Leave it to humans to forget about their own weapons.

"Penn-Empress." Zhe said gently. "They pointed their stardrive at us. They were going to fire it."

"And run away? They have a wormhole generator, why run away with their old stardrive?"

"We-el, yes, they would start moving." Zhe said carefully, "but more importantly the drive exhaust would have reduced us to our constituent atoms."

"Oh" Penny said, and then her eyes widened when she parsed what Zhe said. "Oh."

"Yes," Zhe nodded. "On the Heap we're taught to never go behind a human ship. We were never going to win this engagement."

Penny's shoulders slumped. "They don't have Fen and we were nearly destroyed." She looked at Zhe and mouthed "What do I do?"

"Empress?" Zhe said, in a normal tone of voice. "I recommend we open a channel to Gord's ship and take him up on his offer to talk. We can learn what they know, and maybe work together to find out what happened to Fen. After all-" She flicked her ears as she spoke "-if the AI faction supports you, then your claim to the throne is that much more valid."

Penny's eyes shone. She was holding back tears. "Yes, that is an excellent suggestion. Comms, reach out to Gord's ship and let the know we wish to talk." She looked again at Zhe, blinked her tears away and whispered, "Thank you."

Zhe's face was impassive, but her tail swished behind her.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Birthdays

Dicks starts a tradition, for every first birthday one of his loved ones spends with him, he gives them a part of his heart.

Jason: Dick isn't there for Jasons first birthday at the manor because well... he isn't exactly welcome at the manor but he snuck Jason his number weeks in advance to make sure Jay would be at his crappy apartment the day after his birthday. And he gives Jason a collection of poetry his mother had written while they had traveled around the world. He had memorised all of them many years ago but he wanted to give Jason something tangible to connect them together. He might not be related to Bruce, he might not be Jason's brother by law or blood but Jason carries the robin name and Mary Graysons words so he is Dick's brother no matter what Bruce wants to say about it. Some of the poems aren't in English but they all flow beautifully and are written in the same black swirling script. Jason cries real tears and clings to Dick because this isn't something he can say he's had before. When Jason died, Dick took it from Jays room because he didn't allow it to be part of a mausoleum for his brother he wasn't going to let it be part of one for his brother.

After Jason comes back to life, and he's left Gotham he finds that familiar notebook in a safe-house he was sure Nightwing didn't know about with a post-it note on top reading.

I'm so glad you're back little wing

-DG

Tim: Dick and Alfred celebrate Tims birthday alone and Dick knows that Tim is struggling with who he is and his place in the family. Jason needed connection Tim needed purpose. Tim needed something to do to prove his value so on Tim's 13th birthday Dick teaches him the quadruple summersault. he teaches Tim the Full-Twisting Shaposhnikova his mother's favourite move on the bars and the moors. They spend all day practicing together until Tim can do a loose approximation of as many of his parent's signature moves as they can squeeze into one day. And every time Dick sees Tim for the next two months he asks for a spotter and they spend two odd hours practicing the moves. Tim never ends up incorporating the Flying Grayson's moves into his fighting style but he starts to follow Dicks habit of getting up high when he's stressed and working out all his frustration by practicing those moves over and over again until his body is pleasantly sore. Sometimes when Dick is on undercover missions, Tim will do one of the routines to help with the fact he cant reach his brother.

Damian: canonically Dick gave Damian a trapeze bar but that was long into his Robin tenure I believe it was after the Lazarus island debacle. So I think that by the. time Damians 11th birthdays rolls around, Dick and Damian have a pretty solid relationship and the first thing Dick would have given Damian was his father's unfinished sketchbook which contained the original designs for the robin costume. This book is Thick and its not like a modern sketchbook no, John Grayson found this leather bound monstrosity in Egypt and paid pennies for it. Its so dense that its filled with about 3 years of drawings and still has more the half of its pages a yellowed blank canvas. Damian, who is naturally talented at art and was encouraged by Dick to try and find non-vigilante methods of enjoyment has already taken up drawing months prior but this gets him to start practicing with fervour. He tries hard to mimic John Grayson's art style before eventually giving up at trying to create identical pieces and just incorporates various techniques the man used. For Dicks birthday that year he gifts him a portrait of his late parents but unlike the ones he's made for the manor, Dick's parents are in motion, with his John Grayson's grin stolen right off his sons face and Mary Grayson's boisterous laugh as she crashed into her husbands side could be heard in the famous cackle of her son.

now I wanted to do Cass or Steph or (maybe even Babs or Kori if I wanted to pivot from family to romance) but I genuinely the girl who has Mary Graysons wedding ring would

Donna Troy: Dick Gave it to her when they were still wonder girl and boy wonder. They were 14 and it was right after they had started the titans, back when it was a kids club more than a hero organisation. It was accompanied with a whispered confession of his identity, an identity the rest of their team wouldn't learn for another to 2 years. She wears it around her neck with a simple gold chain. She didn't take it off during her wedding or funeral, she was buried in it and came back with its barely there weight a comfort against base of her neck.

[miseta]

Chapter 12 ➺ Broken nights

Starting over In Madrid

Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)

After moving to Madrid as the new Real Madrid photographer, Nicky's eyes can't look away from the pretty face of Misa Rodriguez. But how is she going to handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her working contract's strictly forbidding her to date players? Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clasico Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and peaks Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique! Chapter 7 ➺ In the haze Chapter 8 ➺ Confusion and directions Chapter 9 ➺ A place for words Chapter 10 ➺ Not a cloud in sight Chapter 11 ➺ Dangerous steps TW: angst 5K words

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Hayley entered the hospital room with a rather anxious face. Bright vivid lights tinted the place with a gloomy atmosphere ironicaly contrasting with the poster of child playing at the beach hung to the wall. 

I’d looked at the frame for hours, the random boring picture now printed on my retina. My phone had died, and I had no charger so I had nothing to do excepted to wait for something, someone to come visit me or bringing me the precious device that could connect me to the world. 

Nurses had reassured me that I was okey and that she had contact my parents and the club to reassured them as well. However, I felt helpless, still shaken by my accident, and stressed out by how things were going for the team and for Misa. Her anxious face was printed in my mind too, having my mouth dry as I imagined her own distress when she had had no news of me for hours. 

Now, Hayley’s visit was like sunshine after a storm, lighting my gloomy bedroom with her friendly presence. However, her coming alone didn’t reassured me at all, showing, on the contrary, the absence of the person I wanted to see most. 

“Here you are Nicky!” My friend greated me, smiling mildly. 

“Hey Hayley, yeah, here I am…”, I replied, lifting my banded arm with a wince as the Aussie came at my bedside.

“Sweetie, in what a state you are…”, she said patting my shoulder with a pout. “What did the doctors said ?”

“Seven stitches on the arm and two on my waist, but fortunately nothing’s broken and the scanner’s good too. I’ll probably count the bruises tomorrow though” 

Hayley broke a smile, reassured. “Good to hear it from your mouth even if all the team already know you’re all right. As you imagine, we called the clinic to check on you as soon as the match ended.” 

I opened my mouth but Hayley went on before I could speak. “We lost. 1 to 3”. 

Silence filled the room as we gazed at each other, our look heavy with what the score implied. 

“Where’s…”

“Misa.” The winger finished. “Hum, everything has been hard for her, she… she’s processing… things and it’s too risky for her to come right now”, Hayley answered. 

My mouth was becoming really dry and I grasped my wrist in a reassuring gesture, feeling the bracelet Misa had gave me under my thumb. 

“Hayly, tell me what happened since I fell onto that fucking glass, all of it please.”

The winger sighed but her voice was calm, “When you fell, Misa rushed at your side immediately and when they took you away, well, Misa did her best to look normal. We were all shocked and scared for you of course but Misa… she cares about you like a girlfriend does, you know that, and she had a really hard time to refocus on the match…”

I buried my face in my hand, wincing again when moving my left arm, “So she took three goals… I’m really spoiling everything…” 

Hayley tried her best at conforting me, “Nobody’s mad about you Nicky, especially not Misa! She’s mad at herself above all.” 

“Then why isn’t she here?” I asked, anger building as I needed her here with me so badly.

“To protect you. Lea’s figured it out. Misa told me. She probably got it as soon as she saw Misa completely panicking at the sight of you lying on the floor covered in blood, and during the match, it’s true Misa did some pretty bad mistakes. Anybody could tell it wasn’t her night. We agreed I’d visit you not to draw more attention on her at the moment because I had to skip debrief to be able to come during visit hours. But she’ll call soon. Oh speaking of that…” Hayley pulled a charger out of her bag. “Here! You know when you’ll be out?” 

“Tomorrow morning for sure”, I sighed, Hayley helping me to plug my phone to the charger.

“Great, Misa asked me to told you she’s going to pick you up. I’ve to go home Nicky but feel free to call whenever you want!” 

“Thank you so much, you’re a real friend.” 

“Take care, sweetie” the Aussie brushed my hair affectionately before going out of the room. 

I turned on my phone as soon as she was gone. As I expected, I had dozens of messages from my parents and friends wishing me a prompt recovery. I smiled at seeing the red circle with the number eleven on it next to Misa’s name and started reading.

17h47 Mi cari… I hope you’re well…  we’re heading to the pitch I’m leaving my phone. 17h48 I’m thinking of you 💛 18h51 hope everything’s alright, I guess you can’t answer me right now  20h05 I was worrying sick but we called the clinic and they told us you’re okay and that you’re unreachable!   20h16 Lea clocked me, I can’t come to see you it’s too risky  We talked and she’s cool she won’t say anything  20h27 Hayley’s gonna come with a charger she on her way  20h41 call me when you can  Love you

I didn’t wait one more minute to press the little phone sign on the screen, my chest tightening at the dialing sound lasted.

“Cari! How are you?” 

It felt so good to just hear her voice.

***

“Oww!”, I moaned at the feeling of the compress being pulled of my wound.

“Perdon! It’s well stuck!”, the goodie excused herself while she slowly pulled the piece of medical tape appart from my skin. She delicately finished to remove my old dressing and put sanitizer on a coton pad. “Does it hurt?” She asked as she applied the cotton on the still fresh stitches. 

“No, it’s just a little sensitive now.” 

I watched her concentrating on the task. Her brows twitched or lifted now and then, her plump lips pinching like they usually did when she was focusing on something. 

Misa continued to clean my wound a couple of minute with much care, then she made a new dressing with compress and tape. 

“We’re done here!” She said lifting her brown eyes toward mine. “You lie down on the sofa so I can change the one on your back”.

I nodded and stroke her forehead softly before doing as told. “Thanks for taking care of me, Love.”

“De nada”, she murmured and started humming a song while cleaning the other stitches.

“Porque desde que estás aquí Aquí cerca de mí Que tú eres mi baby Y ese recuerdo de tenerte sin ropa

Que no me deja dormir Sigo pensando en ti Que tú eres mi baby Y ese recuerdo de tenerte sin ropa”

I recognized the song of our holidays in Formentera, her melodious voice was like water, slowly running down, so much softer than the other Spanish people and having me wondering where that came from.

“Misa, can I ask you something?”

“Si, claro” 

“Why am I feeling you don’t talk like Madrid Spanish people do? Do you have an accent?” 

She chuckled at my question “Es el acento canario! We skip a lot of letters like the letter S. For exemple, I don’t say España but E’paña. Mas goales is ma’ goale’”.

“Ohhhh, I see now! That’s why I thought nothing was plural for you ahahah, outch!“ I winced again, the scar on my back was still sore. “Tell me something else about the canaries.” I inquired, curious about her birthplace and wishing to focus on something else than the pain.

“You already know my island is Gran Canaria, the round one. We have a micro climate in Canaria’, it’s 25 degrees and sunny almost all year. La’ Palma’ is one of the biggest city of E’paña.” 

Now that she’d explained it, I noticed every missing S in her way of speaking.

“Oh ok, that seems great! Is there a metro or tramway in Las Palmas?” 

“No but our wawa network works well!” Misa answered proudly. 

I didn’t understand what she was taking about so I repeated interrogatively, “Wawa?” 

“Jaja, yes we call our buses Wawa’ and again I’m not really pronouncing the letter G, you spell it G-U-A-G-U-A.”

“Guagua”, I echoed.

Misa chuckled once more as she finished to put compress and tape on my second wound. She sprayed a bit of sanitizer on a bad bruise close by that sent a shiver through my body, “I love mi i’la - my island - I love Madrid too but it’s not the same and all my family is there…” she paused and pulled my T shirt back down, “It’s all done, we’re good for two days”. 

I sat up on the couch, looking again into her eyes, and guilt surged as I thought of how caring she was when I was the reason of the nasty game she had endured. Misa seemed to guess my unease and frowned slightly.

My finger tips smoothed her furrowed brows, the goalkeeper closing her eyes and enjoying my little touches on her face. 

“Hummm”, she sighed as I scratched her scalp, and she rested her head against my chest. Her arms surrounded my waist and she hugged me tight, my fingers rubbing through her hair. “Are you going to be alright on your own when I’ll be gone with the team?” 

“Yes, don’t worry, I’m off work until your return and a nurse will be coming to check on me. I’ll be alright. Really Misa, do not worry about me okey?” I insisted, dreading to be the source of an other failure. 

“Vale, tiene’ razón… Let’s go in bed, my flight’s early tomorrow.”

***

TV was set up, diner ready, my medicine taken and my dressing changed. From the sofa where I sat on in the cosiness of my home, I was bracing myself for the kick off of the Champion’s League second game, Real Madrid versus Juventus. 

The whistle blowed and the match began, the sorting deciding Madrid were having the ball. 

Straight from the start, Caroline Weir rushed past the Italian defenders, aiming for Signey Brunn, Signey striking hard and fast and the ball rebound on the fists of the goalkeeper. Yet, Caroline had moved forward and was in best position to recover that ball, quick enough to send it right into the cage before Payraud-Magnin had the time to dive for it again. The players burst of joy, and so do I, jumping from the sofa and howling in pain as the wound on my waist woke up from standing up too fast. 

The ball was given back to Juventus but they quickly lost it again. The following minutes were a succession of lost balls and touches, both goalkeepers having very little to do appart from staying focused. 

On the 35th minute, Sofia Cantore managed to get between Rocio and Olga and ended up doing a nice center, recovered by Cristiana Girelli who shot right at the left goal corner. Misa jumped high toward the ball but could do nothing but stare helplessly as it landed at the back of net. Cheers from the crowd. Silence from the other side. The shot had been neat and strong, really hard to stop but Misa pulled a face. Taking a goal was always hard to swallow. 

Moreover when the Italian attaquant Sofia Cantore escaped on her own right after the goal kick and went back straight to the cage. Misa readied herself for the shot but decided at the last minute to come out of the penalty area, rushing at the ball coming to her at full speed. Although, Sofia shot before Misa could reach her, and Real Madrid took its second goal. 

My stomach began to knot, the Misa coming off her goal line had been a big mistake, hardly punished for having taking the risk of leaving her cage exposed. The camera lasted a moment on the goalie’s tense face, her jaw clenched, frustrated and angry with herself when that goal could have been saved if she had thought better. Thus, Juventus had taken the lead because of it. 

Fortunately, the second half time started much better, Caroline and Linda managing to score respectively at the 61th and 79th minute, having me fidgeting of joy but remaining seated quietly on the sofa in fear of pain. 

However, everything changed past the 85th minute. Juventus managed to get a corner, shooting it nicely to the waiting head of Estelle Cascarino, her header sending it right into Misa’s gloves. The goalkeeper’s grip wasn’t firm enough and the ball slipped away from her outstretched hand, falling onto the grass and rolling lazily to Estelle’s feet. The defender took her second chance, kicking swiftly into the opened part of the cage. Misa was defeated. Not grasping the ball was a beginner mistake. 

I shrank into the couch, afraid, only to see Juventus taking the ball back toward Misa’s cage, Misa bracing herself for the attack again, clearly panicked to take yet another goal. Maelle Lakrar succeeded at tackling the Italian striker nicely and the ball rolled to the feet of Olga, but she was pressed hard by Cantore preventing her to cleared away the ball. After a few unsuccessful dribbles, Olga finally decided to pass the ball back to Misa. Girelli rushed to the goalkeeper as soon as she had the ball, having Misa to do a quick clearance to put away the danger. However, Misa cleared straight in front of the goal and her pass was intercepted by the midfielder Ariana Caruso, shooting high in the air. Misa followed the ball running backward, ready to jump to catch it but it decended at hand level right behind the goalie. Misa jumped, the tips of her gloves touching the ball only to see it hitting the roof of the net. 

I could not watch anymore. Misa stayed lying on the grass, the Italian player and crowd screeches field the stadium. The filming framing doesn’t allowed me to see more of Misa’s despair but I didn’t need it to know this was bad. Very bad. 

I cleared the remaining of my meal and did the dished, my mind clouded. I heard the whistle signal the game ending. Three to four. Misa had taken four goals facing a clearly dominated team. Three of them could have been avoided to the least. 

This was bad. Misa’s wasn’t well. I had never saw her played like that. 

My heart sank as I waited for her to call me, not daring to send her a message myself when she knew I had seen that awfull match.

But two hours later, I had no call, no messages. 

I wrote her a short text, “I hope you’re well, call me when you can”. 

Time got by and she didn’t answered, my angst growing crazy until I could stand no more, and called her. The dialing sound lasted, having me wondering anxiously if she was going to pick up. 

“Hola…”, the goalie finally answered but her voice was hoarse. Had she been crying? 

“Hey Mis’… how are you?” I sensed my saliva drying in my mouth.

“Buah, not very well I guess…” 

Silence settled between us as I waited for her to go on, however, she said nothing else, thus I inquired with caution, “Fuck, sweetie… is there anything I can do?”

I heard her sniff and sight heavily and angst gripped me a little more, “eh… no, I… we…”

But the woman stopped to let a rasping breath and my stomach knotted itself entirely. Dread crashed onto my body as I stayed floating in the awful quietness. I muttered a voiceless prayer but deep inside I knew what was coming next.

“I think we should stop”.

If only I could have been wrong. 

Silence settled again and I could only hear the loud and fast beats of my heart. I swallowed almost nothing, my mouth dryer than after a run. 

“Lo siento mucho”, the strangle voice of Misa said through the phone. “ I can’t…”

“…go on like this, I know,” I finished. Tears streamed from my eyes but my body was numb with shock, I felt I had stopped breathing. 

“You… should get the chance to fulfill your work aspirations…”, she added. 

I really couldn’t breath anymore, through air indeed went in and out of my lungs.

“…and I need to focus back on mine”, she concluded. Her sniffs achieved to break my heart into pieces. 

She’s right.

But I love her. 

But she’s right. I’m not doing her any good, I’m even ruining her performances… I shouldn’t fight for this. 

“I…get it”, because I love you, I added in my mind. “I guess I’m going to hang up now… too hard.” I managed to articulate, my body fighting against the sobs trying to come out now. 

“I’m so sorry… take care Nicky”

My chest shook uncontrollably for containing the sobs. I couldn’t say anything, still I couldn’t hang up after all. It would mean it would be over. Our relationship would end with the call. 

But then it hit me. 

It was over already, we had just break up. 

I spoiled a minute trying to regain my ability to speak, my blurred sight composing the soft features of her face as tears and sobs escaped madly. 

“Take care, you’re the best, Love…” I finally stuttered in a broken voice and I found the strength to press the red circle just after. 

I dropped my phone on the sofa, fighting to retake my breath as sobs took all over my body with an inimaginable strength. Every inches of my being ached, my mind drowning in unbearable pain. It was over. We were no more. Of course she’d break up. What was I thinking dating a woman like her. I should be grateful for having her for some months. 

But I couldn’t. Pain and numbness was all I could feel. 

I couldn’t stand it.

I couldn’t.

Time had stopped. Life frozen. 

I had dragged myself to bed where I was now lying for hours, unable to sleep, unable to stop crying, unable to do anything else but stare blankly at the ceiling. Destroyed once again, I was lost in the worst part of a break up, the realization of it, of her absence, suffocating, when her presence lingered everywhere in my small home. Her toothbrush was waiting in the bathroom, some of her clothes and underwear in my closet, special ingredients for her diet remained in the kitchen. 

I tossed and turned, fighting to not drown in pain, my sadistic mind picturing her smile with her dimple on her left cheek. She was slouched in the sofa, wasting her time on her phone before joining me in bed. She was about to come now, tired and needy before sleeping, as usual. She was about to wake me up from this nightmare. It had to. 

I spent the night fighting against sleep as I knew too well I would be dreaming of her holding me close. But when dawn approached I sunk in a troubled dream where I looked for her without succeeding at finding her. When I finally reached her, Misa’s broad smile faded away and I woke up with a jolt, my arm probing the bed for her conforting body and falling onto the cold flatness of the mattress beside me. 

Everything was upside down. I had woken up in a nightmare, jet-lagged and dehydrated, reality crushing me once more as I realized the break up was real.  

***

Two days later I was back to work, should I say back to hell. The Cuidad was no longer the familiar and reassuring place I knew but the ghostly reminder of my gone happiness. Misa’s presence had leaked everywhere here too, from the field, where fortunately I rarely went, to my office, to the locker room and the photo studio. The Cuidad was where everything had begun, the witness of our friendship and attraction slowly turning into love and care. When she dumped me, Misa took everything I’d built here and even if it was true I was happy before we started dating, I couldn’t imagine that happiness coming back now. 

Therefore, I tried to focus on work and it worked a few hours, until I had to modify a close shot of the goalie, my eyes immediately filling with tears at the sight of the features I loved so much. I kept crying as I cropped her silhouette to put it a new background. Once again, Misa was everywhere, to the very content of my work, having me trapped in an infinite sadness as more pictures of her popped on the screen. I quitted my office to get some air, but mostly to smoke the cigarettes I had bought on the way. But smoking didn’t appeased my broken heart the slightest and I ended up crying like a child in the bathroom, grasping the thin bracelet attached to my wrist I hadn’t had the strength to take off. 

On the next day, I felt lost, wandering aimlessly in the corridor, both dreading and hoping to fell on her waiting for the elevator or on my way to the parking lot. I had not seen the goalie since our break up, our goodbyes on the phone the last words between us. I navigated between numbness and sadness, exhausted by trying to get a grip, to block all thoughts and emotions toward her. On the evening, I spent hours on the phone with Angela, smoking like a fireman, telling her everything, crying more, hurting more. My best mate never mentioned the fact that she foresaw it happening and I was grateful for that. Angela wasn’t like that. I could always count on her. 

But even Angela couldn’t confort me like Misa did, only her had the ability to make me smile in a heartbeat with a bad joke or a silly pout no matter how bad my day was. Only her could really take the stress away in those hard moments. Misa gone, I also lost my confident and protector.

Fortunately, I started preparing the photo exhibition and was surprised to feel almost good about it. I buried myself into it entirely, putting all my denied feelings at showing my dedication for my job at the Real. While everything else was gone, being a photographer had stayed a consistence source of joy in my life, granting me self confidence and allowing me to express myself artistically. Somehow like a therapy, I worked for days, selecting shots, discussing exhibition and displays directions, retouching images, until I was satisfied of every pictures and the way they were going to be shown. 

So in spite of all, I started to get better days after days. Not to say enjoyable, but life seemed livable again. I got used to the fade taste not leaving my mouth, smoking not helping, the cold gray weather of the end of November matching my mood. Nothing really appealed me anymore apart photography. Things happened or did not and I didn’t care, but at least to upcoming exhibition helped me not to feel completely distraught. 

And I needed it badly as I endured seeing Misa again during matches and for specific communication needs. We didn't exchanged a word, barely looking at each other but those moments of relative proximity kept stirring the emotions I was trying so hard to bury.

Thus, I didn't expected for her to come to find me after a particularly good game against la Real Sociedad. 

Smoking outside the stadium, my heart leaped when I saw her walking toward me. I took a glimpse behind my shoulder to check if there could be someone else she wanted to meet. But there wasn’t, and there was no doubt allowed anymore as she stopped right in front of me, her hands in her pockets and her glance dark when she saw me light up another cigarette.

“Hey“, she said, looking away. 

“Hey“, I answered coldly. If she wanted to talk to me she better do it, I was not going to make it easier for her.

“I have something to tell you. The all team guessed the "misacertijo", they know it’s you I was seeing. I didn’t confirm it but it’s pretty obvious without having to say anything.“ 

Misa lift her gaze back to me. How weird it was to be that close to her again. Something waggled in my numb body as I searched about what to answer. Of course everybody had guessed who Misa was dating. We were always friendly and close but suddenly we both stared to avoid each other. Neither of us were having the strength to pretend being in good term.

“Hum, ok. Thanks for telling me.“ I finally said and Misa furrowed her brows. 

“You’re not worried about it?“

“Nobody has proof and they’re not going to get one since it’s over…“, I explained more bitterly than I wanted to. 

Misa seemed to study me a moment and her intense gaze made my throat tighten. She had to stop looking at me like that. 

“I heard your photo exhibition is opening soon?“ 

My breathing fastened slightly. What was she playing at? 

“Yes it is. The opening will be on the 20th of December.“ 

“Well done, I’m happy for you“, she said peering down at her feet. 

She looked so usure, could I say sad? Something hot and growling stirred in me again and I took another puff of my cigarette to dismiss the feel. “Thanks, and well done for tonight as well. That was quite a match. You seem to be doing great.“ 

“I’m working hard, thanks...“ Misa said, her lips sketching the start of a smile and her brown eyes found mine again a moment. A moment during she seemed to be thinking of thousands of things, opening her mouth and closing it a few times as I kept on smoking slowly to hide my confusion.

“What about that?“ She finally asked pointing my cigarette with disgust. 

At first, I didn’t knew exactly why that made me so angry, but then I got why I suddenlty was so furious. Her jugement on what I was doing with my life, a life she had chosen not to be part of, was the last thing I needed. Moreover, she was the very reason of me smoking again. 

So, I pursed my lips, answering with a hard stare. “This is none of your business!“

I crushed my roach in the ashtray, taking the path to the parking lot without another look back at her. 

And of course, I cried again that evening and during many other after it. 

***

Champagne and cocktails flowed freely, lounge music filling the vast reception hall. Bottles were opened and poured in stemmed glasses at an enticing rhythm, the loud pops creating a funny addition to quiet notes in the background. But despite the wonderful decor, I was nervous. 

Of course, I was nervous. I wasn’t used to being under the spotlights, moreover in a foreign country, at a party of the most famous football club of the world. I glanced at the corridor showing of few of my photographies and my gaze rested a moment on a particular shot. It was a photo of Misa and Hayley sat in our pitch corner, smiling broadly while looking in the distance at something I had forgotten. No matter what happened, those moments where the three of us had connected, had stayed dear to my heart. Now, it wasn't without pride that I watch it hung against the white wall of one of the most fancy galleries of Madrid. 

Ana was eagerly twitching beside me. It had been her idea to paire the exhibition’s opening with the traditional Christmas party. Every year the club organized a special event for employee, members and a well selected guest list. For this edition, the paring had led them to chose a galerie of the center of the capital, with a vast reception room adjoining to it, were the party would take place latter. It was meant to be quite a show. On her side, Ana had been very attentive to be seen as the thinking head of all of this. But for now, she, Mariam, Eneko and I were standing in a neat line facing the entrance to welcome the guests. 

The firsts ones to arrive were a groupe of employees from the commercial department, quickly followed by some of the players.  Everybody had put on their best outfit in a demonstration of good and not so good taste. Olga was in a rather odd dress-suite but Maelle wore a smart sparkling skirt and a fancy white shirt.

As for me, I had spent hours deciding what to wear for that precise occasion. I didn’t want to be too formal but not too relaxed either. Thus, I had sent dozen of very doubtful selfies in front of the mirror to Angela and Hayley, sicking their advices and validation. 

“Nicky, we talked about this a hundred time, you’re not wearing a shirt!“, Angela had said on the speaker. 

“I have nothing else! All the tops I have are shirts or T shirts!“

“Then go for a dress, the dark blue one, you look stunning in it!“

“But I never were dresses, it feels weird…“ I had moaned, searching the pile of clothes. 

“You said you didn’t want to wear pants either, that it was too common! You said you wanted to stand out but in a good way… That was your precise words and we both know what you want deep down…“ 

I had rolled my eyes. “Well, I don’t! You do?“ 

“You want to be sexy as hell so you can impress everyone this evening“, she had answered.

My brain had instantly pictured the face of my ex-girfreind gagging at the sight of very attractive version of me. My lips had stretched into a smile and I had surrendered, “Ok, I’m trying the blue one again, but I’m not putting stilettos. What about boots?“ 

“Humm, with hills if you want your outfit to remain chic….“

I had dig out a paire of ankle high varnished black boots with medium hills I had had probably bought for some kind of party and worn two or three times in my life. I had put them on, shoved my hair to the side and sent a photo of my reflection to Angela. 

“You’re stunning Nicky!  it’s giving a "I’m good on my own boss girl and look at what you lost" vibe. Perfect.“

“Perfect“, I had echoed. 

So here I was, wearing a silky dark blue dress and hills boots, casually chatting with people, a cup of champagne in a hand and a small bag in the other, giving a very worldly version of Nicky to the now crowded place. I didn’t know where to give head, everybody greeted me, congratulated me. I grasped hands of people I had no idea who they were, explained my works a dozen times and emptied several glasses far too quickly. 

An hour or so had passed and I was in a long conversation about my vision of sport photography with a journalist named Franck when she came.

She hadn’t overdressed. She was wearing simple brown suit pants and a silver long sleeve top. I followed her from the corner of my eyes, watching her looking around, clearly searching for something or someone in the crowd. 

She took a glass, her moves usure, and looked a moment at the photographies hung on the walls. She was getting closer when she turned her head. Our eyes finally met. Her lips parted slightly before she close them again and looked away. Misa had always been pretty bad at hiding her emotions. 

A second later she had despaired into the crowd and I excused myself to Franck, unable to talk or listen anymore. Knowing Misa was there had troubled me. I quickly exit the hall to the terrace to light up a cigarette. I took a few puffs and breathed in relief the sweet poison filling my lungs. It was a pitiful compensation. I had not felt the satisfaction I had expected when she had seen me. I didn't know anymore what I wanted her to feel. Impressed? Angry? Sad? She had definitely seemed sad rather than impressed or angry.

As a matter of fact, so I was now, smoking on the terrace on my own. How many times I had dreamt of celebrating the opening of my first exhibition with her. 

With her…

I pulled at my cigarette, forcing my mind to go blank again, my now well known strategy to retain some of my sanity, when I heard a soft voice close by.

Her voice. 

“Lea please don’t...“

She was probably just around the corner, only a few feet away, still she could not see me I could not see her.

“Why not, I like you Misa. And you like me“, Lea’s assured voice replied. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t like you like this…“ 

I was frozen, torn between hearing what I shouldn’t and knowing what was going to happened. 

“Don’t you think it could change?“

“I…I don’t know Léa… I don’t think so.“

There was a silence during I dared to pull at my cigarette. 

“It’s her, right? You’re still in love with her?“ The droping voice of Léa inquired. 

My heart was drumming in my chest, my hurt and mangled soul hanging to her answer as I hold my breath in what seemed the longest seconds of my life.

“Of course I still love her“, Misa’s low and broken voice echoed in the cold night. 

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ 

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Let's Clear the Air Gen 1 pt.83

M paced on the front porch. She checked the time again but only seconds had passed when it felt like hours. Beckett texted her at 7 a.m. to let her know he was headed to the station to catch his train. It was 8:45, and his train would pull in in 5 minutes. This meant he'd likely be there in 25 minutes if the Spooky Day traffic didn't hold him up. Every car that passed at the end of the street had her craning her neck, hoping it was Beckett. She was anxious to get the conversation over with.

Finally, a taxi slowed at the end of the street and stopped. The door opened and Beckett stepped out. She watched from the stairs as he closed the door, ran a hand through his wavy black hair, and started towards the house.

Nervous energy coursed through her, but she forced herself to stay on the porch. Beckett stopped when he reached the bottom step. He didn't look at her, he didn't sit. He just stood there, almost statue-like. The small puffs of air coming from his mouth were the only outward indication that he was breathing.

M: Hey Bek.

She said softly, she had a clear view of the fear and sadness in his eyes. For a while, he continued to just stand there. Finally, he seemed to break from his trance and took a seat. M crouched so she wouldn't tower over him from his position, which resulted in them being at eye level. Beckett moved down a step to give himself a reason not to look her directly, something that didn't go unnoticed by Mercury.

Beckett: I'm guessing Kason told you he saw me and Madison.

M: Yeah, but...

She paused and moved to sit on the step next to him.

M: I'm just wondering why you weren't the one to tell me about her?

Beckett: What was I supposed to say? "Hey M, I'm dating the girl you think might be screwing your husband."

She flinched at his harsh tone, it was clear he wasn't there to mince words.

M: No, but you could have come and talked to me.

He shook his head trying to stop her.

Beckett: When I learned about Madison's connection to you, you were fighting a lawsuit, trying to convince Mom to move in with you, publishing your next series, and working on your marriage. How could I add anything extra to your plate?

M: While I see your point and appreciate you thinking about me, this was just as important. Look at how it affected us. You've been avoiding my calls and hiding parts of your life. I tried to call and tell you about Mom, I even wanted to tell you about the lawsuit. Watcher knows I never wanted you to find out about any of this online, but look at how not talking about it has pulled us apart. It would have been worth the added stress at the time if it had saved us the heartache later. Just tell me what you know.

Though he'd been trying to look out for his older sister, as usual M was right. They never kept things from each other, yet when it mattered the most he'd been too afraid to tell her the truth. Sitting with her now he realized, he should have known better. M had always been in his corner right, wrong, or indifferent and it seemed that hadn't changed.

Beckett: I know that Madison is your biggest fan and that she and Kason met at the Pawspital, that's where the first picture came from. I know they met again with Takara to plan an event for the release of "Court of the Slumbering Fae" which was the same day we meet, which accounts for both photos. I'm also aware that she didn't take those pictures nor was she having an affair with Kason.

M: Did she tell you where the photos came from?

She asked with a dubious expression.

Beckett: You mean did she tell me about Paris.

He retorted. M recognized the malice in his tone. It was identical to how she sounded whenever she was forced to mention Paris by name.

M: I'll take that as a yes.

Beckett: She's done some awful things M. She's used and abused Madison and so many other people. You can't even fathom some of the things Madison has been through because of Paris. I won't make excuses for Madison not being upfront with Kason about her friendship with Paris, but I swear to the watcher M, she never meant for anyone to get hurt, especially not you two. She's been following your work since she was thirteen, owns all your books, and has so much respect for Kason and your marriage. I'm just hoping you won't hold this against her. I really like her M, and if you give her a chance I think you'll like her too.

For a while, the only sounds were dogs barking at the park up the street and the soft morning breeze blowing through the last of the autumn leaves.

M: Even if I did hate her, how could I stay mad after a speech like that.

Beckett: I kind of wish I was exaggerating. Sometimes I think she likes you more than me.

M looked at him with a crease in her brow.

Beckett: Don't worry, I had that thought too, after I found out she was a fan, but I'm sure we're good.

Her shoulders sagged forward in relief.

M: Good, I just want you to be happy Bek. I don't want this to come between us. I don't hate her, just to clear the air. I don't know her, but I'd like to get the chance to. There's so much buzz about the two of us and we haven't even had a chance to meet. You, Takara, and Kason, at first, all felt she was an amazing person. I won't let Paris’ bad behavior determine how the relationship between me and her develops. I don't want her nonsense to plague our relationship either, we're siblings, and nothing comes before that.

Beckett stood from his place on the stairs.

Beckett: Never! I swear to the watcher I would have told you myself M. I just needed to find the right time, I didn't want to risk upsetting you or Kason. It would have only made Madison uncomfortable about our relationship and further complicated things, but I never meant to cut you out M. I’m sorry.

M: Now you don't have to worry. I love you, Beckett.

Beckett: I love you too Mercury.

Her loving smile turned into a wicked grin as she folded her arms.

M: So, she's my biggest fan huh? Because we mailed a pre-released copy of "Court of the Slumbering Fae" to my biggest fan. Her name is Elucea Glynnan. Her fiance reached out and we managed to get a copy sent to Chestnut Ridge for her.

Beckett: I assure you she's-

M: Her fiance sent us a photo of the pages and tabs falling out of her copies of "Journals of a Werewolf".

Beckett: Okay, fine. We'll agree to a close second. She's your second biggest fan.

He relented and her smile grew more cocky.

M: Aaanndd now that's settled, you so owe me.

Beckett: Wow, that was quick. Is that the reason you were so understanding?

M: I'm hurt you would even say something like that, it was only the third reason not the first. So, invite Madison to the party or I'll tell Mom you were out here swearing to the watcher religiously!

Beckett laughed.

Beckett: That’s cruel. She really is in San Myshuno. She came yesterday to see me and stayed to visit her mom. Apparently, she's really into Spooky Day.

M pouted.

M: Fine. But Harvestfest is non-negotiable so let her know from now.

Beckett: Let us see if she regrets being the number TWO fan when she sees how bossy you are.

M: Chop, chop. We have a festival to get ready for.

Previous Next

Beginning

Sidebar: Thank you so much @hashimasims for letting me include El into our world. We love her and hope that M will continue to be her favorite author and we can send her more books in the future.

Pose: @elen-shine conversation on the stairs. starrysimsie emotions.

[leaawrites]

can u write about noel going all out for your one year anniversary, can u write it all romantic and fluffy.. im yearning for lover boy gallagher

Lover Boy Gallagher

Noel Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: in which, Noel goes all out for their one year anniversary.

Warnings: a bit angst (sorry, can't help myself), swearing, established relationship, fluff, I hope this is how you imagined it!

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

The house was empty, like most days this time around. With the recording of their new album, all Oasis members were constantly in the studio and rarely anywhere else. Especially not home with their girlfriends or family.

At the beginning of their relationship, Y/n assured Noel that she was fine with being home alone and that her time without him wouldn’t change the love she felt for him. She promised him that exactly a year ago and still held it to this day. Falling for him a bit more with every longing touch they shared when he finally arrived back in their bed late at night. The nights falling short for them both, when they remembered that Noel had to be in the studio the next day and Y/n had a job of her own.

Even with the house being empty, she still tiptoed down the stairs towards the kitchen. For her, there were no expectations as to what Noel might’ve done for their anniversary, though she didn’t expect a lot. Maybe some flowers, a card at best. He was never the best at giving gifts, he knew what he wanted, but knowing what those around him wanted was most often not his strong suit, unless it was something were specific he’d see one day and just buy while waiting for the next opportunity to gift it to someone. If it wasn’t accidental or impulsive, it wouldn’t be much. The biggest present he gave her once for her birthday were a pair of shoes she’d wanted for quite some time already. He’d seen them in a store one day and bought them. Other times, it were just chocolates she’d receive from him.

Still, when she peaked into the living room and onto their dinner table, there was no trace that he even lived there, beside the usual empty coffee mugs or the shoes and coats at the front door. He hadn’t forgotten, had he? He surely hadn’t, Y/n tried to convince herself as she took the empty empty coffee mugs and put them in the sink to clean later. Settling on the sofa and turning the TV on, she thought back to what was hidden in her part of the closet, behind what seemed to be an endless row of dresses. One of them bought just for tonight. Maybe he’d take her out for dinner. A simple reservation could be made quickly with his connections, she thought.

She had noticed his absence, which seemed to be more apparent now than with the album before. Having been friends before, she knew how long he’d usually spent in the studio and how much time he used to spent with his other girlfriends. He was attentive at the beginning of their relationship, what would happen to them after already breaking apart in a year? How much further could they fall? She didn’t want to think about it, but in the quiet of their shared house, there was no around it at some point of the day. Were they truly meant to be like she always believed them to be? Was he truly the man worth fighting for even when her friends told her about all the amazing things their boyfriends - or even husbands - did for them, sacrificing their own time for them? Noel never gave a reason to doubt it, until she spent more time with the TV than him.

The world outside wore a dark grey over the usual green and blue blur of earth and sky. It looked like it might rain in an hour or so. Shutting off the TV, she made her way upstairs again. With a thicker sweater over her body to stay warm and her laptop in her lap, she started getting comfortable on the little patio they had, overlooking their garden and those beyond. She needed to clear her head even when she would freeze while doing so. Working from home was a privilege only the fewest had, but working as a journalist made it all a bit more available for her. The papers she took home from work laid next to her, held safely by an ashtray. Starting to type she started getting lost in the words and stories. Stories that weren’t her own completely, which made it easier to escape reality.

Only coming back once she heard his voice from behind, her fingers stopped typing and felt cold for the first time in two hours. The blood stopped pumping through them like it’d done before, circulating slower and making her hands shake.

“Are you fucking mental?” he asked her, taking the laptop from her lap and pulling her inside. “Are you trying to kill yourself outside in the cold?”

“It’s not even that bad,” she tried to tell him, though her argument was worthless the moment he took her freezing hands in his own, warming them up like he’d always do. Shaking his head he continued cursing her under his breath for behaving like that. ‘How can you do stuff this stupid?’ she could hear him muttering. ‘Scaring me like this.’

“I’m fine,” she tried to convince him once more, smiling in assurance and holding his face with her cold hands, making him shiver at the cold touch. Laughing at his reaction she fell into him, leaning closer and ultimately hugging him. Snuggling her face into his chest and sighing in contempt. “I missed you though.”

“I missed you too, love,” Noel said back, holding her close like he was afraid she’d slip away, into the cold again, leaving the warmth all to himself. What was warmth with if you were lonely?

Angling her head up, she could see his () eyes already watching her, his eyebrows racing in question as he saw the uncertain look on her face. He’d always know whenever there was something on her mind and he never held her back from speaking her mind. Taking in a deep breath, she let out in a small voice, “You’re gone now more often than before.”

“I know, love.” His hand started rubbing up and down her lower back, heating her up. “But it will stop now, I promise.”

“But, you’re not done with the album yet, are you?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then why won’t you be gone for longer now?”

What was he doing instead? Y/n could feel her insides twist and turn. Churning in fear and exploding with anxiety building up inside of her. Her heart as racing, the beat quickening. If this was a song it would be played in the club, she was sure of it. The blood pumping through her quicker now but she felt colder than before.

What was he doing instead? The words repeated in her head, doubling every second into more question. But this one stayed in the front all the time. Hypothesis after hypothesis appearing in front of her inner eye, playing like a movie she wanted to turn off but couldn’t look away from. It was just too disturbing.

And Noel seemed to notice none of her feelings beside confusion.

“Needed to finish your gift.” Seeing her eyes widen like the movie finally ended, he only laughed at her reaction. “Don’t say you forgot what day it is.”

‘I thought you did,’ she wanted to say. “How could I forget the first time you talked to me with your back turned out of nervousness?” she said instead, bringing a blush to creep up his neck. Noel’s face hiding in the crook of her neck as he laughed in embarrassment just thinking about the situation that took place outside of a pub they were all at.

The two of them had been flirting for some time already, though neither wanted to put a label on what they were doing. With the surprising success of ‘Definitely, Maybe’ Y/n was thankful for even the smallest second she got to spent with two of her favourite people. As one could’ve seen coming from the beginning though, having less than something hurt more than having nothing, at least then she would’ve known where she was at. They both would’ve. Having to watch Y/n dance with some random guy over him and having Liam slur in his ear as to ‘how fucking childish’ he was behaving was the last straw for Noel and the reason why he found himself outside with Y/n by his side in the cold London streets. And then it all just happened. The words flew from his mouth like they’ve never done before, not even when writing songs, and after a long pause from the woman’s side, their lips finally touched in a way they’ve never done before. True passion and love being exchanged between them.

To her, he spoke poetry without thinking much about it.

A talent she hadn’t seen before. One she could never learn. So, listening to him making it feel so easy was an addiction she would never feel guilty of.

“You wanna open your present?” His words were muffled against the skin of her neck, where he laid little kisses for her. His lips travelling further up, over her jaw and cheek until they reached her lips.

“Yes.”

“Wait here,” he instructed her, losing his body from hers and walking back into the kitchen where he left it to go look for her the moment he came back. It wasn’t wrapped nicely, but Liam wanted to help so he let him.

When he came back, Y/n was sat on the sofa, hands clasped together like a child on Christmas. Excitement rushing through her veins. The present was a thin, poorly wrapped, square that was light in her hands. Scrunching her eyebrows together without a clue of what was in her hands, Noel urged her to open it, leaning on the cushion behind the headrest and watching her every move as she neatly loosened the tape from the wrapping material. Grasping the gift, she pulled it out, revealing a vinyl she’d never seen before. A simple white record sleeve over it with a message written on it. A message for her. ‘An apology for all the nights I’ve missed because of this,’ she read.

“What is it?” she asked, gently taking the record from the sleeve, separating them and letting the paper-like material drop to the cushion she sat on. Turning it, she read the tiles first, none of which she recognized, before reading the singer. Noel Gallagher.

Turning her head sharply his way she felt tears prick in her eyes. Mouth agape and her fingers holding the record tight to not drop it. Noel laughed at her reaction, the blush reappearing to his face. “All for you. All eight of them only for you.”

“You produced your own album?”

“Not mine. Ours.

“Nobody will ever hear this beside you, you know? These are just for you.”

[blenselche]

my babyyyy i love it thank you omg

look at this big boy <3333 ily you did such a good job

this is for this scene in From Dec to Sept:

“Why’re you…” he tries, head lolling. Finn’s body shakes from the cackle that runs down the thief’s spine. “What’re you gonna do?”

“You got a nice penny on your head, hero. Didn’t know back then,” she tsks, clicking her tongue to her teeth, “if I’d’a known I wouldn’t’a let you slither away so easy.”

“Not gonna be easy this time neither,” Finn rasps.

He’s thrown to the ground, collapsing in on himself to protect his vitals, but she yanks his head back by a fist in his hair and traces the edge of a dagger over his unscarred cheek.

“You’re boneless chicken right now, kid, don’t get cocky. The posters all say ‘dead or alive’. I got no trubbs going either way.” The grey woman snaps her fangs at him threateningly, wiping her blade off on her dress. “Don’t got that annoying sword to distract me now. We can take our sweet time gettin’ to know each other.”

Finn swallows roughly and his eye catches on a wave in the grass behind them. “Yeah I do,” he ekes through a wobbly grin.

Bandit Princess forces his head back again, exposing his neck and nicking the soft meat under his chin on the edge of her weapon. “Whassat?” she hisses.

“Said yea,” he taunts with a weak laugh, “I do.” Finn gathers what strength he has left and sweeps her feet out from under her.

Thorny canes snap around her wrists to string her up in the trees in a flash before she hits the ground and Bandit Princess grits her teeth at the pain biting into her skin, kicking uselessly as Fern surfaces in front of her, slow and menacing, glaring at her with a hate filled, simmering stare. He doesn’t speak as he snaps a javelin from his wrist and gores her center on it, plunging the tip of it into her diaphragm shallowly.

“Wh-what’s your problem with me, you freak?!” she cries, gulping down a pained yell.

He doesn’t blink. “We have a score to settle.” The two toned voice brushes past her face in a hushed snarl. “Give me back myself,” he bites out next to her ear, knocking something loose in the back of her long forgotten memories of their first encounter. Fern turns and crouches at Finn’s side, cutting him loose and checking his blood pressure. His eyes flare white with rage at the sight of him, last of his humanity leaving its grasp as it rounds back on her to seethe through its fangs.

She’s comprehended her circumstances now, obvious by the startled, terrified look on her face. Fern can smell the fear rolling off of her in waves, sickly sweet epinephrine curling its grass and sharpening its claws.

“Remember what I swore to you?” It invades her personal space, growling low in the back of its throat. Her eyes dart back and forth, heart hammering against her ribcage. “Finn, do you have any moral objections with me keeping to my word?” It cants its gaze back to catch him shake his head with a hard, callous expression, watching intently. A slow smirk spreads over its fangs. “That’s new,” it notes.

“M’not a kid n’ymore,” Finn puffs out through numb lips.

Fern kicks the spear to the side, cutting through Bandit Princess’ waist in a long, jagged wound before it grows demonic and monstrous and snaps its maw in her pale face.

“Told you I’d find a way,” it jeers.

Fern sinks into the earth and snatches onto her ankles, tearing her hands through her bindings as she’s pulled under, and Finn watches her scramble to stay above ground. She screams and grabs fistfuls of grass and weeds, smearing long paths of blood from her wrists over the turf before her movements lock up from paralysis. Their eyes connect as she’s swallowed, disappearing into the dirt to suffocate, buried alive. Muffled noises of struggle echo upwards, the sound of bones breaking crackles softly into the breeze, and Finn tries hard to not feel satisfied but it’s a losing battle. He grows close to passing out by the time the air turns quiet, and he feels himself lift and become weightless, cradled gently to Fern’s chest.

“You need to see Minerva,” it says into his hair. “You’re so pale.”

“S’not done,” Finn whimpers. “Gross. Took a lotta blood.”

“I saw.” Fern turns toward the nearby human city and shrinks, narrowing out and gradually turning more human. “I’ll dismantle her later.” He spits bits of muscle and tendon to the ground, gagging on the taste of someone so bitter. “You did so good remembering how to connect to me, I can’t believe how close I cut it.”

“D’you eat her?” Finn asks absurdly, choking on a freaked out chuckle.

“She got her grossness in my teeth,” his other sniffs. “Perspective, Finn. She was going to slit your throat.”

He laughs airily, sight spinning and limbs weak as he sags further in the embrace. “I love you s’much you big monster,” he mutters against Fern’s peck.

commission for @blenselche

[carpp]

cute scavenger x provence is great but i also love angst