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marc-spectorr · 1 year ago

Text

come alive

pairing: poe dameron x reader

kiss prompt: #22 …in a rush of adrenaline

warnings: 2.0k wc. mentions of violence, shooting, weapons. curse words.

notes: thank you to the lovely anon for submitting this prompt! i decided to make this its own post bc i wrote quite a lot. also i haven't watched star wars/written for poe in a hot minute so pls be nice to me lol. hope you like it!

—

“What’s the escape plan?”

At the question, Poe shoots you an odd look that is quite concerning. “Escape plan?”

“Yeah, the escape pla—oh my god,” you say in a hushed whisper, blinking at him. “You don’t have one.”

“I don’t have one yet. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something quick and then—”

“—and then we get captured, locked up behind bars to rot or until they decide to—”

Your ramblings are cut short when Poe puts a hand over your mouth, gently shushing you. Three stormtroopers approach the stack of oversized crates, shrouded in darkness due to the absence of sun at this late hour.

You freeze and hold your breath, waiting for them to pass. Fortunately, they march right by without problem, oblivious to the fact that you two are hiding behind them.

As happy and relieved as you were when Poe first showed up to free you, you’re now back to thinking that you will die at the hands of the First Order. It’ll only be a matter of time until someone realizes their imprisoned Resistance spy has escaped. You’ll never get out of here, especially without a plan. You’re doomed.

You swallow thickly and try to distract yourself from the dread and panic clawing inside of you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating. Glancing around wildly, you need to focus on something else. Anything.

Eventually, you have no choice but to settle on having your attention on the pilot’s stupidly handsome face. You keep your eyes on him, inhaling and exhaling deeply to gather your composure. All the while, you wonder— has he always been this good-looking up close? You have never realized how pretty of a shade his dark eyes are or how much they sparkle in the low light. You’ve never seen such thick and curly hair like his, and you have the biggest urge to card your fingers through it.

“Sweetheart, hey—relax,” Poe murmurs when you grow quiet on him, his watchful gaze flickering every now and then to check your surroundings. “Breathe. We got this.”

Poe has long dropped his hand from your mouth, but it remains on your face, cupping your cheek as he assesses you for any injuries. You feel your pulse pick up a beat. You’re sure it’s mainly from the threat of danger you’ve found yourself in. Certainly not because of Poe, your good friend, and crush ever since the day you joined the Resistance.

No, it definitely cannot be that.

“Okay,” you sigh out, nodding. You take a quick glance at the perimeter yourself this time, mostly to hide away from his gaze. “Now what? We can’t stay and hide here forever.”

“You’re right,” Poe agrees. He steps closer to you, his chest brushing against your back as he scans the area with you. “My ship’s past the tree line. Best course of action is to sneak out without alerting anyone. But if things don’t go our way, we use these.”

Slipped into your hand is a blaster. You take a deep breath and tighten your fingers around the grip. You hope it doesn’t come down to a shootout between you, Poe, and the dozens of armed guards patrolling the place. Violence isn’t really your strong suit. That’s why you preferred missions that involved laying low and gathering intel. Too bad your cover got blown on this assignment.

(And yes, you are still sore about that).

“I’m a shit shot, just a heads up,” you warn Poe. You turn around and bump into him, forgetting that there’s barely any space between you. He doesn’t make an effort to step away, and surprisingly, you don’t either.

Poe’s lips curl into a smug grin. He holds up his own weapon in his hand. “And I’m very much not. See, we’re a perfect match. On a scale of 1 to 10, how’d you rate my spur-of-the-moment escape plan?”

You bite back a chuckle and shake your head. Leave it to Poe to distract you from your worries, even if it only lasts a minute. In all seriousness, you have faith in him. He can be overly cocky sometimes, but he’s smart and skillful. You’ve seen and heard what he’s capable of. There’s a reason why you and plenty of others admire the hell out of him.

“I’d give it a 7.5, mainly ’cause I trust in your confidence too much. Plus, it’s not like we have other options.”

“That’s the spirit,” Poe beams. “Sorry if I worried you about not really thinking this through earlier. Once I found out you were being held out here, I kinda just... went for it, y’know? I didn’t have time to waste. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You smile at him, ignoring how your cheeks are warming up against the crisp nighttime air. You’re touched by Poe’s statement. Grateful that you’ve crossed paths with someone like him. Who else would be this reckless and determined to dive into an impromptu rescue—or insane enough to risk their life to save yours?

The thought has your heart feeling tender, but you can’t get caught up in it at this moment. You and Poe need to make it out alive first. Fuck, now the nerves are starting to creep back in.

“Thank you. If we come back to the base both in one piece, dinner’s on me.”

“You mean when we get back,” he corrects. He holds his hand out for yours. “Deal. It’s a date. Alright, you ready?”

Poe’s question almost doesn’t register in your head after he refers to your dinner offer as a date. He doesn’t seem to be joking around. He sounds serious, and you don’t question it. You find yourself more than okay with calling it that.

Clearing your throat, you give Poe a slight nod, ready as you’ll ever be. Both of you have to get out of here alive. Your date depends on it.

Staying undetected as you move through the shadows was easy in the beginning. Few are out on patrol this evening, and when you do encounter someone, Poe manages to evade them. Surely this isn’t his first go-around at something like this.

You do your best not to allow your anxiety of getting caught to cause you to lose focus. The warmth of Poe’s hand in yours helps soothe you, an assurance that if anything goes wrong, you’re not alone.

When you spot your way out, relief floods over you. You tell yourself you’ll be home soon. That you’ll be back in your bed in no time, tucked under the covers, safe and sound. No longer would you be fearing for your life in the way you are right now.

You’re nearly there— the clearing is just within sight. Less than a hundred yards away more and…

Sirens suddenly blare. So loud that they ring in your ears and leave you disoriented for several seconds. The quiet of the night quickly descends into chaos as guards pour out from every which way. The radioed orders your ears pick up are clear and bone-chilling: they are searching for you, and if found, they want you gone permanently.

“There you are, scum,” a trooper snarls from behind, weapon pointed at you. They’re about to pull down on the trigger, but Poe reacts much quicker. The blaster in his hand fires, and the man instantly drops to the ground.

You barely have time to process what happened when Poe grasps your hand tightly, holding onto it uncomfortably tight, but his touch is grounding. The two of you share a knowing look as the sound of distant voices and heavy footsteps grow closer.

“We gotta keep moving. Shoot anyone who’s chasing after us, got it?” He says, his voice a blur over the erratic pounding of your heart.

Poe doesn’t wait for your acknowledgment. He makes a mad dash towards the gate leading out of the compound. He wasn’t lying when he said he was not a shit shot, taking down a few men with such ease— they were no match for him.

Luck seems to be on your side tonight. The moment Poe tugs you past the gate, you run across the field and into the woodlands as fast as possible, the fastest you’ve ever moved. Your muscles are sore, and your head is dizzy. It feels like you can’t get enough air in your lungs.

Still, you run. You run and run, even if you’re starting to think that your legs will give out at any moment. You have to get as far away as you can from the place that has kept you captive. It’s your best bet if you want to survive.

Finally, Poe’s ship comes into view. He glances behind you, and you mirror his action, seeing that the guards have lost track of you in the dark. The relieved smile on your face remains for only a split-second, however. As soon as you turn your head back, you see the stormtrooper emerge from the thick bushes, aiming to shoot at an unsuspecting Poe.

It’s like everything is in slow motion. From you realizing that Poe is in imminent danger to the way you forcefully push him out of the line of fire and draw your blaster.

Adrenaline buzzes through your veins. Your chest rapidly rises and falls. You steady your hand even as it fights to tremble. Without thinking twice, you fire your weapon. The first shot narrowly misses the enemy, but the following two blasts hit them fatally, and they slump to the ground, unmoving.

Luck truly is on your side tonight.

You gasp a breath in surprise when a pair of solid arms suddenly wrap around you, your nerve endings still on high alert after all that has transpired.

Poe’s gentle voice saying your name cuts through your foggy mind, and you meet his gaze. Your heartbeat continues to drum sharply against your ribcage as you stare at him for several moments, tracing the deep, worried lines etched on his face.

You don’t know what comes over you after. You’re unaware of what you’re doing until you’re right in the middle of it.

One second, you’re holding onto Poe—feeling some of the tension in your body seep out upon seeing that he’s okay, he’s unharmed— and the next, your lips are on his, soft and warm. Exactly the way you had imagined they would feel.

Poe doesn’t kiss you back right away; it is the only thing that snaps you out of this haze. Have you misread him all this time? He’s a major flirt, but you thought he was genuine with you. A knot of confusion and embarrassment forms in your stomach. How could you be so wrong? How could you have fucked things up?

You immediately pull away, taking a few stumbling steps back. Poe looks at you wide-eyed, mouth slightly open, but he doesn’t say a word. You glance down at your feet, not wanting to see his expression as you fumble out an apology.

“I-I’m sorry, Poe. I don’t know… I was just—”

You are interrupted when Poe lets out a breathless chuckle. He closes the short distance you had put between the two of you, his hands cupping your face, fingers stroking your cheeks ever so gently.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that. It did feel very nice, though.”

Poe’s breath fanning warm over your skin causes yours to hitch. Before you can respond, he slowly leans in and recaptures your lips in a sweet kiss. Your heart stutters and skips for a whole new reason now. Something more electrifying replaces the fight or flight sensation surging within you, making you light-headed in the best possible way.

The kiss abruptly ends at the sound of dried leaves rustling and branches snapping from different directions. You notice faraway lights becoming brighter, no doubt more stormtroopers closing in on you and Poe.

“I’d like to keep kissing you, but we gotta go,” he laughs, nodding towards the ship. “The sooner we get back, the sooner we can go on our date.”

You grin in agreement and place your hand into Poe’s hand. Being with him makes you feel alive, like you can handle almost anything the universe throws at you. You could get used to this.

“Take me home, flyboy.”

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron #oscar isaac x reader

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nightcolorz · 11 months ago

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Have been actually shocked by the takes of Louis and Armand’s relationship dynamic that I have been seeing in which people act like Armand’s subservience is manipulative and evil.

As someone who was also a victim of grooming in my youth (though obvs not like Armand level of traumatic events bc good lord that boy cannot catch a break) I always found Armand to be a really compelling character, and I loved how they were handling the psychological impact of his abuse on his relationships within the show and they all felt very relatable to a degree. I was like mind blown by the way they handled how Louis and Armand’s pasts related to each others and thought it was super clever and it made me go “holy shit” in a way that a tv show hasn’t made me go in a long time. Though I can see where some of the takes are coming from, it has been really disheartening as a victim of grooming to see people dismiss Armand’s behavior when he’s with Louis as purely a form of manipulation on Armand’s part or a fun silly sex thing 😭😭😭

YES ANON FR!!! also very disheartening and genuinely offensive to me how some ppl talk about Armand and his trauma (also am a victim of grooming lol). I’ve talked about this before, but the way ppl r saying with their full chests that Armand is being manipulative in his trauma responses is like actually fucked up, and it’s low key triggering to me 😭. Just bcus armand manipulates ppl doesn’t mean he is *always* manipulating ppl omfg 💀💀 some nuance pls I beg of u.

to me it seems very clear that Armand falls into subservience and behaves as the victim bcus the abuse he experienced was the closest he ever felt to feeling like he understood what he was doing and understood what he was needed for. For a lot of victims of grooming their abuse can cause them to feel safe in those types of abusive dynamics bcus it’s familiar to them, which def seems to be how it is for Armand. Armand feels constantly lost and confused and by being a slave again he returns to a time where he knew what he was, when he had someone there to tell him what he was. And it comes off very clearly to me that Louis sees this in Armand when Armand tells him about his trauma and (as he’s also in a vulnerable position) realizes that he can use Armand’s pattern of submitting to servitude to his advantage. Which!!! That is objectively fucked up im sorry 😭 and I’m tired of being in a fandom where ppl r acting like just bcus Louis is a likeable sympathetic character and Armand does mistreat Louis also, that means Louis isn’t capable of mistreating Armand. Bcus it sounds like when ppl make those excuses that they r saying sexual exploitation like that is ok 😭. Just bcus Armand agrees to and participates in it doesn’t mean Louis isn’t knowingly exploiting the trauma of a vulnerable person 😭 and it doesn’t make it ok. Like we can find it fun and sexy, but the “face down in the coffin” scene was still borderline non con sensual 😭 yknow what I’m saying? You can like Louis as ur fav and discuss how Armand is shitty to him without acting like it’s ok for Louis to pretend to be Armand’s abuser as he orders him around like an animal so he’ll do what he wants. This is an incredibly complex dynamic with two very fucked up characters who hurt and abuse each other out of fear, and some of u can’t handle that nuance 😭.

and I understand not being able to grasp the nuance of Armand’s character, it took me like a year to fully wrap my head around him. He’s got a lot going on and it’s hard to understand why he behaves the way he does, especially if you haven’t experienced sexual trauma or grooming. But just like, y’all have to remember that it can come off as pretty shitty and bad faith to interpret a character like this as always being evil all the time. Ur reducing someone very complex and ur making some borderline offensive (also borderline racist but that’s a different rant) implications

thank u sm for the ask anon ur so right and I relate so hard to ur annoyances ❤️❤️

#armand #interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #the vampire armand #armand iwtv #loumand #louis de pointe du lac #iwtv amc #iwtv season 2 #iwtv s2

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midnight--sadness · 3 months ago

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you are so right about everything!!! thanks so much for replying to that and sharing your opinions. i love that you are very levelheaded about the show but also like to enjoy fanon. :)

I get so mad when people say Jun-ho ruined everything/ was a bad person for not telling Gi-hun about In-ho being the frontman. Thats his brother! That is his big brother who he doesn’t know what will happen to if Gi-hun finds him. He doesn’t know what Gi-huns reaction to that information would be or how the other people in charge of the games will react if someone were to expose his brother’s identity.

And god the theories, accusations, and comparisons of Gi-hun being a new frontman/becoming evil really disappoint me. Maybe I am just in denial about my favorite character, but i just dont see that happening. He is supposed to be the character the audience roots for and his actions are meant to be seen as how they would want to react in a situation like this. (for the most part) I just think the approach of making Hi-hun just like In-ho is lousy and not satisfying at all. I think squid game might give us a more satisfying ending for gi-hun even if that means his death.

Gi-hun certainly is not perfect. no character is and i will always admit that, but the way some people react about these two? crazy

and i don’t want to be more of a d-rider than i already am when it comes to gi hun, but the way people act about him not getting on the plane is ridiculous. how do people expect him to lead a normal life after all that had happened plus him figuring out it will all continue and happen to more people?? also lets not mention how he probably doesn’t feel like he will be an adequate enough father with all his trauma and flaws. AND!!! would you go to see your daughter after knowing these psychos have been tracking you? that would risk her life if they ever wanted someone to use against you? (which they very much would do. ive seen theories that jung bae was placed in the games not just by coincidence)

These two characters are good men and we can’t forget what causes them to make these decisions or the fact that they are meant to have flaws!!! It’s infuriating how they are treated compared to actual villains.

also i would like to see in ho not be forgiven as well. if there is some kind of redemption for him, i hope we still see people he’s hurt so badly be angry (which i dont think will be depicted as a real redemption, just him making a good decision) i agree that jun ho may be more forgiving, but gi hun deserves to be infuriated with what happened to him. seriously in ho didnt have to go as far as he did with gi hun. luckily i dont see him ever doing that because he has no reason to. he was never close to in ho, only young il. he can come back with a lot of heat and vengeance if someone does what in ho has done. (re: gi hun trying to attack sang woo after he killed sae byeok)

this is way too long, im sorry. im just passionate about these characters and their dynamics with in ho. i hope you dont mind my ramblings and i dont feel like looking over it so hopefully they make sense. i really appreciate you talking about this with me!

i so glad u liked what i had to say!! i'm very protective of gihun so my instinct is always to say that he's innocent and does no wrong but in real life people make mistakes. also pls never apologize abt rambling in my inbox i love it so much!! 💖💖 i'm really liking talking to you too!!!

about junho not telling gihun, i once made a post wondering what junho's endgame was. if gihun and his team was successful, then that entire ordeal at the club was to kidnap inho. eventually, gihun was going to remove inho's mask and junho would have to tell him that inho was his brother. gihun finding out was inevitable, so i think junho didn't do it because, like u say, he didn't know what gihun's game plan for inho was. he probably assumed gihun was going to kill him since gihun pointed a gun at junho just bc junho said he was at the island during the games.

yeah, him being front man would be disappointing. in general i have no faith in the writers of shows, but director hwang seems to have a good head on his shoulders and in s1 the fact that gihun "won" that battle with ilnam i think is a good indicator that director hwang is trying to say that gihun is in the right in this situation and he won't abandon his ideals even if he has suffered for them.

the plane thing 😑 it is so irritating!!! why would gihun get on that plane? to see his daughter who is safe with her mother in another continent? so that gayeong can forgive him? gihun is too selfless to let 400+ die for his own safety and comfort.

and omg, that theory abt jungbae is so good! i'd never thought abt it but them placing jungbae would ensure inho has someone close to gihun that he can kill if gihun steps out of line (which he did). it's like how he combed his hair to look like sangwoo's so he could appeal to gihun's love for him.

i completely agree with you that inho isn't going to be fully redeemed. he'll make a good decision - maybe he'll sacrifice himself to save junho or gihun, or he'll decide to abandon the games so the players can escape, or he'll stay behind to blow up the island while every leaves (the last theory is kinda valid but i have to rewatch s1 to see what they say exactly abt the explosives).

i think junho is actually getting closer to not necessarily forgiving junho but accepting his fate? i was remembering his talk with his mother, about how inho made his own choices regarding taking money from a criminal to pay his wife's treatment. and he tells his mom that it wasn't her fault for not giving inho attention or for not trying to help him. he knew they were there and he never went to them. i think junho is, subtextually, saying that they aren't to able for inho becoming the front man, that he made his own choices on the matter and that nothing junho did would change his mind.

this is something that gihun will also have to learn. he can't help those who don't want to help themselves. i can see gihun at first trying to redeem inho, to get him help by appealing to his humanity and this failing. this would confirm to gihun that inho is without "salvation". he's not the devil but he's made so many mistakes, so many bad decisions, that gihun can't help him even he wants to.

#asks #yapping 4ever #squid game #seong gi-hun #hwang jun-ho #hwang in-ho #u guys know i ship inhun DOWN but this is canon #and canon is grim for inho #meta

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kxmisato · 2 years ago

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♡ AUTUMN — DAN HENG

↳ characters : exbf!dan heng x gn!reader

↳ genre : fluff, like a pinch of angst

↳ synopsis : after receiving a text from your ex-boyfriend’s little sister asking to hang out and accepting, you go over to their house. there’s no way you’d see him again, right?

↳ note : opera house by cigarettes after sex (he is so bf, so autumn time bf, so fall time.)

bailu ♡ (dan heng sis):

y/n are you busy

i miss you a lot

can we hang out

you:

hi bai

bailu ♡ (dan heng sis):

you:

i miss you too and no i’m not busy, i’m on fall break

idk if we should hang out though,

i don’t want to make dan heng uncomfortable

bailu ♡ (dan heng sis):

who cares about him !!

i’m talking about you and me

not him

he STINKS

you:

LOL

ur so cute bailu

but you shouldn’t say that about ur brother

he cares about you a lot

bailu ♡ (dan heng sis):

ya but

i’m mad at him

bc you guys broke up

you:

we both agreed to break up bailu

we just got busy with midterms

bailu ♡ (dan heng sis):

do you still love him?

you:

dang

right into the deep questions, huh bai?

bailu ♡ (dan heng sis):

IM SORRY Y/N

you:

LMAO

it’s okay dw

yeah i still do love him

bailu ♡ (dan heng sis):

then will you get back together?

pls get back together

i miss you

you:

i would like to get back together but i don’t know if he wants to

i miss you too

bailu ♡ (dan heng sis):

can we please hang out

we can do it when he’s not home

i will text you when he leaves the house

i think he’s going to the library today

okay?

you:

okay bai

but i think you should tell him before i come over

bailu ♡ (dan heng sis):

fine

i will see you soon !!

i’m sooo excoted !!!!

excited* !!!!

you:

me too!!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

though bailu said that she would tell her older brother, she in fact did not. about half an hour after she had sent ‘he’s gone !!! come over FAST !!!’ and made your way over, you heard the front door to the house unlock.

internally you were hoping it was their mom coming home from work, but a sliver of you also hoped it was dan heng.

even though your break up was a mutual one, it still stung, bad. the two of you agreed to try and avoid each other on campus, thinking it would make things easier for you but instead it made you feel emptier.

someone who you had talked to everyday for 2 years had become a stranger in the matter of seconds, he was a part of your routine and you were a part of his, the sudden removal of each other made it hard to accept.

which is why you were hoping it was him walking through that door. then when it was, that pinch of excitement you had quickly faded into anxiety as your stomach dropped when his face came into view.

it was the first time you had seen him in 7 months, he looked the same. same blue eyes, same beauty mark on his neck, same brown hair, but a bit shorter, did he get a haircut?

“oh.” is the first thing he said when he seen you.

oh? really? ‘oh’ is all you’re going to say?

“bailu, you said that you told him that i was coming over?” you turned to the girl.

“o-oh… i did? i must’ve forgotten to ask…” she stumbles out, pink flush creeping it’s way up the back of her neck to her cheeks. “i was going to ask him but he was already in his car when i was going to…”

you sigh, “it’s okay bai, i’m not mad at you. i think i might just leave though.”

“what?! no! please don’t leave, i’ve missed you so much, y/n.” there’s a tremble in bailu’s voice. “please.”

“you can stay,” dan heng interrupts. “i don’t mind.”

“you’re not uncomfortable?” you ask, looking up hesitantly. though you’re exes, you still care and respect him.

“yeah, it’s okay.” he gives you a quick smile. “i’ll just be in my room.”

“oh, uh, okay, thank you.” you sputter, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“no problem.” he says, and as you turn back around to look at bailu, you hear his feet pad heavily down the hall.

“you can’t do that again bailu, okay? i’ve missed you too, but it’s not fair to dan heng to have me be here without him knowing.”

“okay… i promise i won’t do it again. i just really missed you.” she mumbles.

“i’ve missed you too,” you sigh lightly and then change the subject. “so what movie did you want to watch? i think you’d like the princess diaries.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

during the first half of the movie, bailu was enthralled by it. but once you had been watching for half an hour, bailu let out her first yawn. then five minutes later, she let out another one, and then ten minutes later, she was passed out on her end of the couch.

you looked over and smiled at her sleeping form, then got up and covered her with the throw blanket you were occupying.

you stretched lightly, feeling the need to straighten out after lounging in the same position for a while, then picked up your empty cup of tea on the coffee table and made your way to the kitchen.

everything in the house was the exact same, considering how long you and dan heng have been broken up for, regardless if it’s felt like longer than it has been.

family photos litter the walls, photos of bailu and dan heng when they were babies, wedding photos, and dan heng’s graduation photo. you were in that photo, wearing a matching cap and gown with him and cheesy smiles.

making your way into the kitchen, you rinse your empty cup with water and think about why that picture was still up.

why didn’t they change it out?

too lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear dan heng’s footsteps head towards the kitchen until you heard his voice.

“oh. sorry, i’ll just come back later.” he says, and goes to turn around.

“no! sorry, no it’s, um, it’s okay. i was just putting my cup in the sink. besides it’s your house, i’m just a guest in it.” you rush out.

“ah, okay,” he replies, making his way past you and grabs a glass out of one of the upper cabinets. “you know you’re not just a guest, right?”

“what do you mean?” you turn and ask, wanting to look at his eyes but breaking eye contact as soon as his eyes met yours.

“my mom and bailu love you, you’re basically family to them.”

“oh, but aren’t you uncomfortable?” you ask, though you wanted to also know what you were to him. were you family to him too? does he still love you?

“no. i’m not.” he says matter-of-factly.

“really?”

“really.”

“...”

the silence between the two of you was deafening but oddly, it wasn’t uncomfortable. it almost felt like the two of you had never broken up. like you were just talking in the kitchen during winter break as you had before, and it not being 7 months since the last time you talked.

“...i–” you start.

“can we talk about something?” he interrupts.

“yeah, what is it?” you ask.

dan heng gets up from where he was leaning against the counter, making his way over to the sliding glass doors to the backyard. “do you mind if we talk out here?”

“no, not at all.” you say.

dan heng motions for you to head out first, and you mumble a quick ‘thank you’ as you step out of the doors, with him following close behind you.

as you walk out, you’re met with the crisp autumn air. the coolness brushes against your cheeks as your eyes settle on the falling leaves of trees in his backyard.

he closes the doors as you sit down in one of the lounge chairs on the deck, then he makes his way over to sit in the one across from yours.

“so…” you play with the hem of your sweater, “what did you want to talk about?”

does he want to talk about us?

“i.. uh…” he starts. “how have you been?”

how have i been? that’s what he wants to ask?

“i’ve been fine, i guess? what about you?”

“i’ve been,” he clears his throat. “fine too. how were your midterms?”

“they went okay…?”

this is weird, you think.

“that’s good. i’m glad they went well.”

then the same silence from before is back, but this one is awkward, deafening. it takes up the air of the conversation and feels suffocating.

“so, what did you want to ask me, dan heng? or did you just want to catch up?” you question.

instead of answering your question, dan heng remains silent, his eyes meeting yours and then immediately looking away.

you let out a sigh as you stand up from where you were seated. that slightest bit of hope you held onto for the conversation about your relationship quickly dissipated.

“i think i’m just going to go, it’s getting late anyways and bailu has school tomorrow, right?” you say and walk to the sliding doors. “could you let her know that i paused the movie when she fell asleep? i don’t want her to wake up and get upset thinking that she missed the rest of i–”

“i’ve missed you.” he finally says.

you turn to look at him again, his back is facing towards you and his head is hanging low.

“what…?” you mumble quietly.

“i’ve missed you, and i think that we should try again.”

“really?” you say in disbelief. he had seemed so unbothered when he seen you for the first time earlier today. you had thought that you were the only one affected by seeing each other for the first time in months.

“i’ve been thinking about you non-stop since we broke up. and not being able to talk to you, see you, touch you, was horrible.” he breathes out. “i tried to stop thinking about you, but wherever i go, i get reminded of you.”

you walk back over and stand in front of him.

“i’ve missed you too. so much.” you admit.

“i’ve wanted to call you so many times, i’ve wanted to see you so badly. see your mom, bailu, you. i missed you so much, dan heng.” you croak out, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes as you try to hold them back.

dan heng stands up, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. he rests his head in the crook of your neck, refamiliarizing himself with the smell of your perfume.

vanilla and cashmere, like always for the fall time he thinks.

when his arms crept around your waist, yours wrapped around his neck and you melted into his warmth again, it contrasting to the cool air of fall.

your hands play with the bottom locks of his hair as he pulls you impossibly tighter against him, afraid that if he lets you go, you’ll never come back.

when you pull back, you study his face again. the same blue eyes, same pouty lips, same beauty mark on his neck. the same dan heng.

“i like your haircut by the way” you giggle and a light smile spreads across his lips.

“yeah?” he says.

“yeah, it suits you.”

#— kxmisato’s works #dan heng #dan heng star rail #star rail dan heng #honkai star rail #star rail #dan heng x reader #dan heng x gender neutral reader #dan heng x y/n #dan heng x you #dan heng fanfiction #star rail x reader #star rail x you #star rail x y/n #dan heng fluff #star rail fic #honkai starrail

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gojoest · 3 months ago

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Hi pls I love you and your writing and your take on satoru!!!! I saw the post about having arguments with him and it being rare and my mind went straight to pregnant reader doing something a little reckless--maybe craving a type of food at 4am and she looks at toru and he's been doing everything, literally everything, for her (and he does it with all the love in his heart, never complains because why would he? You're giving him the biggest gift of his life, how could he ever complain?) and she doesn't want to wake him up to get something for her again, she goes out to get it herself and satoru wakes up to nothing and no one but as soon as he's getting ready to go look for her, she comes back and he's so frantic and overprotective that he ends up yelling, just wondering why on earth didn't she wake him up (and she's the pregnant gf of the strongest and he's just so fucking traumatized), so they have this fight and it's bad enough for her to want to spend the entire day alone. toru is just spiraling, guilty for having yelled until she goes to the kitchen to grab some water and that's when he manages to talk to her, grab her hands and just say he's sorry over and over, she's mellowing out a bit so he showers her with small kisses, goes down on his knees to kiss her baby bump and he explains his reasoning and they make up.

lmao i know I got carried away but maybe, like, if younot busy, would it be possible to know your thoughts on this scenario, pregnant reader and toru having a fight and the way he'd apologize 🥹🥹🥹💕💕💕

hello and thank you for your kind words! i get really happy every time someone comes and tells me they like my take on him, that’s something very special to me always 🥹🤍 also, sorry for the late reply! i got this ask right before locking my blog and never got around to answering it after that, but saw it again today while going through my inbox and this is perhaps the perfect example as to why they would have an argument. the scenario you’ve painted captures it so well, i wholeheartedly agree!

i think you’re the only person that can make him lose his temper and act in ways that would normally be considered unusual for him. it never comes from a place of true anger or any other negative feelings though, but rather from a place of deep love and fear bc he is very overprotective of you — now more than ever bc you’re carrying his child — and he is constantly aware of the dangers of the life that he leads as a sorcerer. he can easily protect himself but he can’t do that with you, especially when you’re not by his side. i think the thought of something happening to you is a great source of fear and anxiety to him all the time, and him getting angry at you for going out for a late night snack yourself instead of waking him up and asking him to get it for you is just him eventually breaking down and becoming incredibly vulnerable and forward about this underlying anxiety :,) while otherwise he would never talk about it. he always tells you how he will protect you and his baby, that there is nothing you should worry about. but that night you put him in a situation where he wasn’t as confident about it and that is truly his biggest nightmare. i believe the only thing he was focused on while getting dressed to leave and look for you were the residuals of your cursed energy, he didn’t see anything else. he probably didn’t realize that he had started crying while raising his voice at you first thing when you returned. i wouldn’t have the heart to get mad at him after seeing him in that state bc he has never been this overwhelmed by fear, but damned it be the pregnancy hormones… if you end up crying and give him the silent treatment, it will break his heart. it will probably get even more emotional once you’re calm enough to talk things through :,)

#[ ai—mail ]#tw pregnancy

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tojiscrack · 2 months ago

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hii, I'm a new member of this beautiful community that supports your amazing and magnificent story. I'm sorry if my english is not correct but it's not my first language, 'cause I'm an Italian reader. I'm so glad that a random night of two weeks ago I was just scrolling ao3 and found your work and then totally got stuck with it. Your writing is so beautiful, girl, both the comedy and romance parts. And let me say that you really have a talent for capturing feelings, emotions and behaviors that truly characterize jjk characters. I have read many jjk fanfictions and none have ever portrayed the characters as truthfully as yours, so thank you for this magnificent gift T.T

I really lost my mind over mercupine, they are so cute and especially when i read the football match part, when y/n was cheering for megumi, in my head was playing "so high school" by Taylor Swift, I think that is so mercupine coded (maybe also 'cause i'm a huge swiftie >.<), specifically the part "you know how to ball, I know Aristotle".

Sorry if my nick anf my profile are so basic and like a bot, I just reinstalled tumblr to join this community and send you this message :')

Don't worry about the hiatus, take all the time you need for your exams. I sincerely hope your studies go well and remember to take a break to rest sometimes! <3

heyyy omg, this is so exciting 🤭 excuse my very dry response rn, i got about 7 hours of sleep last night which isn’t enough for someone like me who needs at least 10, i’m so tired 😭

firstly, your english is literally fine, like i understand everything you’re saying! you don’t have to apologise for it, knowing more than one language is a skill 😋 (i’m bilingual too, and it’s awesome)

welcome to the family! we’re still kinda small rn, so you joined at the right time!

‘your writing is so beautiful, girl, both the comedy and romance parts’ — 🥹

i wish you could peek into my soul and see how much that means to me 😩🫶🏽 tysm <3

‘you really have a talent for capturing feelings, emotions and behaviors that truly characterize jjk characters. I have read many jik fanfictions and none have ever portrayed the characters as truthfully as yours, so thank you for this magnificent gift T.T’ — GIRL NOOO, THANK YOU FOR SUCH KIND WORDS 😭

i recently received my first ever hate comment for this fic, and although it didn’t bother me at all, this just makes me realise how insignificant that comment was, because you came along and praised my story for the very thing the gen-z dan schneider (they read underaged-megumi smut) said my story lacked 😭🫶🏽

truly means the world to me. i’m glad i captured the characters as close to canon for you as possible!

‘when y/n was cheering for megumi, in my head was playing "so high school" by Taylor Swift’ — AHHH, they do have certain taylor swift songs i placed in their playlist, i definitely agree with you 😋

i read this ask when you had a blank profile and only answered it just now, but i never thought it was weird simply bc there have been multiple readers who switched from ao3 to tumblr to be able to communicate with me about this fanfic. the result of cross-posting a story 😧

‘don't worry about the hiatus, take all the time you need for your exams. I sincerely hope your studies go well and remember to take a break to rest sometimes! <3’

me rn:

i’m at a loss for words, this was so nice of you. once again, i have to mention how i can’t explain how happy this made me. genuinely gets me excited for late june which is rare bc it’d mean my exams would be nearer (and i dread that day every second) 😟

iwkdkwkkdiwjd ilysm pls don’t die 😭🫶🏽

#liar liar asks!#really tired so i’m gonna nap in the library for a bit idk #i’d update the tags and stuff hut again #literally so sleepy rn #tysm ml 😭#this was rhe kindest ask ever ughhh #🫶🏽

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rodolfoparras · 1 year ago

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Price and Soap have such a chokehold on me right now 😫😫 Like both of them are so hot but they would treat their s/o so differently (imo)

Soap would be so touchy and sweet. Whenever you’re together, he always needs to be touching you. Whether it’s a hand on your thigh while sitting with the rest of 141, or him laying his head in your lap while y’all watch a movie. I hc Soap at like early to mid 20’s. He has such a high sex drive. He’s always up to fuck when you’re alone. It’s basically like rabbit mating season if you’re both horny. He’s also just very needy. Maybe he wants you to ruin, at least, one of his holes, or he just wants his boyfriend to hold him after he comes back from a mission.

Price on the other hand, not the complete opposite, but different. Price has more experience because of his age (mid to late 30’s), so he’s not as touchy or needy as Soap, but if he’s deprived of you because of work or something, this man devolves and becomes the most desperate man. Price won’t beg, it isn’t in his nature, but he’ll definitely make his intentions and wants known. Putting on the cologne he knows you can’t resist. Purposely bending over to show off his ass. Wearing less and less clothes around the house. He’ll always deny that he wants you, but once you give it to him, he’s chanting your name like a prayer.

I’m sorry for ranting. These men make me realize how gay I am and I’m so downbad for them (can I be 🤠 anon?)

First of all pls don’t apologize for ranting I absolutely loved reading and you can def be 🤠 anon that’s a cute one🥹

Second of all I absolutely loved this bc I love talking about how different price is compared to the rest of the boys when in a relationship

Bc for example soap can be touchy and kissy and need ppl to know that you’re his and he isn’t sharing while price rarely gets jealous someone has to literally be like I want to take you out on a date for him to react and even then he’d stand off to the side rocking on his heel and pretend he isn’t listening in

I also think that soap and price are equally touchy but in different ways soap is like a toddler who’s enamored with a baby kitten he wants to hug and squeeze you and sneak up behind you wrap his arms around your waist etc

Now price id def would say he isn’t touchy but that was until I saw a compilation of him somehow always fist bumping the boys or giving them a friendly pat so let’s say you’re heading out for a mission price is giving your hand a firm squeeze you’re coming back alive and well on the heli he’s giving you the biggest bear hug to exist when in company he’s got a hand on your thigh but no one else can see from the table that’s blocking the view always makes sure to sit next to you in the car he doesn’t touch you or anything it’s just nice to feel your body heat next to him. Also I absolutely agree that price won’t beg hes been in the game long enough to know how to play his cards right he knows how to rile you up what to wear what to do but also what to say you know usually when he speaks to you and you’re in public its very low pda being shown in the conversation but when you’re alone and he’s horny you can be like “are you hungry?” And he’s like depends are you on the menu?

#alec answers #🤠 anon

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obsidianpen · 4 months ago

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I ADORE YOU

Weres my vape boo?

Saying spend too much time who?

You’re best mom, whoo!

Um u don’t have to post this but I just wanted to say I grew up with a stay at home mom and it was the greatest thing in the world. My mom had four kids in 6 years and somehow found time to watch the sopranos full series. And I wish she had more time! Like she was the hardest working most beautiful women ever and all I wish now that I’m an adult is that she had more fun because I got enough of her. Not that I’m upset I had sm time with her bc she was the bestest part of my childhood but every mom deserves time for themselves. I love my dad and he worked so hard to supply the family with money. But my mom worked tiredlessly to make sure that money was enough for medical care, food, home needs, school, etc. She made sure every dime was well spent while when she asked by dad to go get food he’d pick up 6 Pringle cans and a bag of onions. She is an extremely talented women who during her middle 40s stopped realizing that (she was also in the art field). Idk that one commenter really made me be like wtf (no hate i think they meant well) Because pls pls pls never loose ur love for writing. Not even for my own benefit, but bc I love woman who are dedicated to their interests. Because moms are the hardest working most important individuals (you are literally creating and then raising the next generation) and because moms deserve to have a life outside of their kids and husbands. I think moms are the most important people in society and I’m proud of anyone who can just call themselves a mom.

Sorry for the rants, you don’t need to respond I just wanted to say I love my mommy despite all her faults. Girl idk your faults but u seem like a good person which makes you a good mom and kids r so resilient. I don’t remember anything other than the fact that my mom tried. And that’s what’s most important. If moms loose sight of their interests (which happened to my mom), when their kids are older, they won’t know what to do with themselves. Normalize women not becoming an extension of their husband (not that I would ever suggest this happened to you but I just think it happens too often) Again sorry for the rant, I just hate the way society views women as baby carriers and nothing else. WOMAN DESERVE HOBBIES! So never ever ever feel bad about taking time to write. My sibilings and I always encourage our mom to draw and express herself and wished she did it more.

well this was an interesting rant/post!

To be clear, and i know you weren’t saying this was true of me, but it should be said - I have never once viewed myself as an extension of my husband, so no worries there, lol. As for being a stay at home mom… I did go back to work nearly full time for a bit, and it was rough. We moved across the country so he could take a job so I could be home with Bebe. It was a choice we both agreed on. I personally love being home with him. This is a season of life; I’m basking in it.

I’ve never felt guilty for taking time to write. Granted, i do it almost exclusively when he’s asleep, but still.

I think some reframing can be helpful. I don’t view myself as an extension of anyone, but at this stage in his life, I sort of view my Bebe as an extension of me, if anything. He’s still so young that he needs me 24/7 (even when he playing independently, can’t take your eyes off these guys for a mo). And that’s fine. Bebes are only bebes once. I don’t know any parent who’s ever looked back and said, gosh I wish I would have spent less time being present with my kiddos when they were young!

I’m also not someone who would ever have to worry about ‘what to do with myself’ when my kid gets older. I have plenty of ‘hobbies’ and look forward to being able to pick things like glass up again. However. I would wager that any mom/parent etc that finds themself at a loss for what to do with their time later in life got that way because hobbies were a luxury they could not afford to have while doing all the child rearing and domestic labor and perhaps also working a job job. Yes, women - and everyone - deserve to have hobbies. But no one needs to be guilted for not being able to maintain them in a society as demanding as ours when you are simply trying to be a good parent and make ends meet. You say you ‘encouraged (I assume this was meant to be past tense, as in during your childhood as well) her to draw more.’ I might be making some unfair assumptions here, but maybe she could have if someone else was helping her? Encouragement does not do the dishes, clean the house, do the laundry, make the meals, get the groceries, take the kids from here to there, run the errands, blah, blah, blah, blah. I’m sorry but I really disliked the way that was worded! It implied that if was your moms fault for not keeping up with drawing, despite being ‘encouraged.’ I bet she wishes she could have done it more too, but I also bet that when she had to make the choice between ‘get shit done’ or ‘quality time with kids’ or ‘draw’, she chose option one or two most of the time.

as for me, I love drawing too, and I can’t WAIT until my kid can draw. Some of my fondest memories with my dad were when we had ‘drawing contests’ and would sit and draw the same thing together, sometimes for hours (strangely, I always ‘won’). My dad was no artist mind, but it was fun, and it’s where I started to learn to really look at things. I’m super excited to be able to teach my kid how to draw when he’s young. This Bebe is going to know how to cross hatch and shade with charcoal before kindergarten haha!

So I guess I’ve just responded to your rant with some ranting of my own! Sorry if I’m super off base with any of my comments. I think we should normalize letting moms - and all parents - make the choices they want to make that’s best for them and their family.

#Rant

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judeswhore · 2 years ago

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bestie! trent and reader are facetiming before bed as usual and she casually mentions that she’s going on a date with a guy and trent is taken aback cos she doesn’t usually date. anyway the call ends and he starts spiralling and suddenly gets in his car and drives 2 hours to turn up at her door and confess his feelings and he’s like pls don’t go on that date tmoro it’ll be a mistake and i’ve come all this way cos i needed to tell you in person that i love you. i feel like trent is the type to show big displays of affection

the second u mention the date there’s this obvious shift in trent’s attitude like he’s suddenly so blunt with u and just doesn’t seem to wna talk and a few minutes later he’s telling u he needs to go bc he has to be up early and ur all??? bc he’s being so abrupt and it’s not like him at all bc usually he’s begging u not to end the call bc of how much he misses u. so ur really confused but ur saying ur goodbyes and being all “i can call u tomorrow tho right? before the date? i know i’ll be stupidly nervous and u always help” and ofc he’s agreeing bc he’s ur best friend but at the same time that’s the last thing he wants bc he doesn’t want u going on the date at all and he hates the thought of bigging u up to go out w some random guy when it should be him.

he’s just having this absolute meltdown for the rest of the night bc he’s in love with u for gods sake and he doesn’t know how u don’t see that and he feels literally sick over the fact u might get with someone else. and he’s not even thinking when he’s climbing into his car and driving to ur house even tho u live like two hours away. it’s just after midnight when he gets to u and ur so confused and a little concerned when he knocks u out of bed and u find him on ur doorstep, immediately panicking thinking somethings wrong. but he’s shaking his head and backing u into the hallway all “u can’t go on that date tomorrow” and ur all??? cos what??? and he’s not even giving u the chance to speak bc he needs to get everything out before he loses his nerve again. tells u it’ll be a huge mistake and that he can’t watch u with anyone else bc it’s supposed to be him and he’s just shaking his head with this little laugh all “i’m in love with u and it’s so ridiculously obvious but u just won’t see it! i don’t want u to go on any dates unless it’s with me, it should be me ur nervous to go out with” and ur just watching him all wide eyed and slack jawed bc why has it taken him this long to tell u how he feels? when you’ve been waiting years for him and he’s never given any indication that he wants u as more as a friend. just smacking his chest with this little glare all “didn’t anyone ever tell u it’s rude to make a girl wait so long? you’re an idiot” and now he’s confused bc does that mean ur not gna go on the date? that u feel the same way bc ur still glaring at him. going on to be like “why did u have to wait until someone else asked me out to realise how u felt?”

#trent rambles🍒

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pleucas · 7 months ago

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this is said with no malice towards you i love your art!! i like you!!

also not capitalizing chuuya's name even tho i have better humor than this

this is going to be loooong but i never read a more stupid ask….

i don’t hate skk bcs i use my brain and see that they’re actually good and a fun ship when someone isn’t ruining it. what i hate is most skkers being unfunny towards Dazai and the continuous mischaracterization of him just to make chuuya look better (mostly chuuya stans but also dumb Dazai stans are guilty of it)

and no Dazai isn’t the worst and chuuya doesn’t deserve better in fact i think yall can’t handle a person with mental illness and a fake persona he clearly put on people always demonize him so i think saying he’s the worst and chuuya isn’t proves my point. they both EQUALLY did the same bad things Dazai isn’t more toxic than chuuya it’s more like Dazai is the one who’s going back to a toxic ex (mind u chuuya was ready to hurt or maybe even kill some of the ada members people Dazai obviously cares for)

the skk hater? who loves chuuya and hate Dazai because they know chuuya’s character will never be as important or as impactful on bsd universe as Dazai’s noted.

if you love chuuya and hate Dazai your opinion about Dazai is immediately invalid like i think they just know no bsd character can be better written and more interesting than Dazai he's what keeping bsd good (and Fyodor i liked him in the last chapters even more)

imo if chuuya keeps appearing he'll just get boring🤷‍♀️ because most of his storyline is over

Dazai on the other hand always entertaining and deep and there’s a reason he’s involved in everything and never forget everything he did for chuuya stormbringer would be nothing without Dazai helping chuuya from the shadows and chuuya knows it but i guess people will still makes him the bad person in skk when he’s the one trying to change and be better person

also Dazai is someone who’s storyline is still on going as well as we know almost nothing about his past or what actually goes on in his brain i can say three things about his backstory and that’s it.

sorry for rumbling i can’t take that level of stupidity

pls don’t block me im not evil…..

holy shit we got cross-ask beef. this is insane

i'm gonna lowercase Both their names because i think this is the reasonable next step. LOL. & i'll also ramble a bit to match ur freak!

i will strive to clarify that me agreeing that dz=worst chuuya deserves better was, as i specified, "on a generalized scale" — on a very, very, VERY surface level this is a jokey way i've seen a lot of skkers talk about their relationship. more of an inside joke atp ig? idk. srry if that wasnt clear

but i do think it's valid to dislike a ship because you don't like one half of it. i totally get how dz's character can piss ppl off, esp if ure missing lns and mangas (which rimu wasn't, but they watched the anime first so the precedent was set). i found the first part of their thesis to be pretty funny actually, just (again) taking it at face-value.

it's also understandable that they try and dissect dz then miss the mark by a mile LOL. but again, can't be blamed if you hate the guy and thus don't read into him too much, which i think is a reasonable way to consume media... probably more reasonable than me. hence why i didn't respond with my own thesis paper. overall idk man it's not that deep, i've been having fun with rimu and i'd advise y'all to also be silly w/ ur Budgeted RPF Dead Author Yaoi, it'll make things a lot better

abt what you've said, i think dz and chuuya can't exist as true characters w/o each other, unless you fundamentally change their truth. a lot of their good & bad (& inbetween) sides are exposed through their relationship, which i believe is asgr's very interesting way of employing "show-don't-tell." i don't think chuuya's storyline is over, because dazai's isn't, and vice versa. this doesn't mean i don't think they have their own arcs, just that these arcs Must involve the other — if dz's main conflict is good/bad + the mafia, chuuya is his biggest amiable tie to it, and if chuuya's conflict is his self + power, dz must be there for corruption. there's more to say there, but again i don't want to feed rimu's claims of us all being dormant essayists LOL

we got dz glazer and rimu, D1 dz hater. and cheese anon.

#casasks #rimu saga #am i instigating???? i cant tell #but this is really entertaining idk is that evil of me #bsd is fucked up cuz all these takes are lowkey valid and back-uppable #asgr the absolute mastermind that you are

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fushitoru · 7 months ago

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hello bestie happy dhanteras!! hope ure doing well 🩷✨

i know im super late to this bc you’ve probably already decided whether to make bridgerton!gojo a virgin or not but i feel making him a rake or atleast giving him a fuckboy phase will add depth to his character 😭

like he’s only had rough sex before to cope w stress but with the reader, for the first time he makes love and thats when he realises how something slow and passionate (which he previously believed to be boring) can feel so good and pleasurable and he’s just so so whipped when he realises what love does to you like sex + romantic feelings involved is just so intoxicating to him that he just can’t get enough of her (this is so cheesy sorry jdjdjdh) and it’ll make sense for him to open up the reader, who’s a lot more innocent and unaware, to a whole new experience and help her explore it kinda like how simon did with daphne.

also rake satoru whos probably a regular at brothels and just visits it out of habit again but for the first time he hesitates to sleep w another woman bc he cant get the reader out of his mind (PLS SEE THE VISION JJDJDJ)

anyways im sooo sorry for annoying u with this huge rant 😭 i just think it makes sense for a man from regency era to have atleast some kind of experience but anyways i loooove ur story and ur writing so so so much i’ve reread it like 4 times already thank you sm for writing a bridgerton au 💗💗

AHH LATE TO THIS but (late) happy dhanteras and diwali!!!

honestly...i'm still really conflicted and haven't made the decision. but i really like this idea --- the fact that he thinks it's nothing special but reader---on wedding night or before---makes him realize that this is something new. it goes along very well of how bridgerton!gojo has been characterized---as someone who thinks love is bs and that there's no space in marriage for it. this could extend to sex as well.

one thing, however, that i've already stated is that gojo kind of has a contempt for brothels and doesn't visit them often. but your suggestion could easily extend to it by saying that he goes to brothels when he's REALLYYYY stressed.

so imagine he's stressed because he's realized he loves reader, tries to go to a brothel to get her out of his mind, and she's the only thing he can think about...poor him T-T

BUT AHHH thank u nonnie for this ask <333 i love the rant and i think i agree with you in that it makes sense for him to have some kind of experience. we'll see when we get there.....

i might just leave it vague/not addressed at all bc im a pussy

#aashi answers #bridgerton!gojo

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love-kurdt · 1 year ago

Text

This is Me Trying (Mike's Version) (byler): 1

word count: 6,469

warnings for this chapter: lots of sexual content!! underage drinking, mentions of drug use, roofie mention bc college, internalized homophobia, maaaajooorrrr depression. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

If someone were to ask me what time it was, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. First off, I would look down at my watch and realize that said watch was not on my wrist. I would then ask myself why my watch was not on my wrist, then I would remember, oh yeah, Will has a matching one, and I was dead to Will, so I didn’t wear the watch anymore. Time was just a construct, anyway. In the end, I’d probably mess around with the person asking and say some shit like, “It’s 420:69.” I was drunk, though, so I was allowed.

I was at some frat party, spending what was my last official night as a student at the University of Indianapolis with the brotherhood of Alpha Lambda Dickhole. I was seated on some musty couch, stained with whatever the fuck that was, with an empty glass resting between my legs and a bottle of whiskey in my hand. I’d given up some time ago on trying to pace myself. Some kind of synth-infused rock music vibrated across the floor, and I could feel the bass reverberating in my bones, which would normally make me want to get up and dance, but I wasn’t particularly in a celebratory mood; I was only halfway through my sophomore year, and had just dropped out.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen this coming. I had been spiraling for a long time. It all started over summer break between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college. I never even wanted to go to college in the first place. What was the point of spending tens of thousands of dollars on a creative writing degree when I could just freelance and eventually get published? But my father insisted that I at least attend a state school with cheaper tuition, claiming, “You can’t run on ink and espresso, son. You have to put in the work and have the credentials to show for it.” On the bright side, it was a miracle that Dad had enough confidence in me to allow me to pursue writing at all. But I was on thin ice with my father, had been for years, so I agreed to at least think about college.

My friends chose their respective schools fairly quickly; Dustin had gotten in with a full ride scholarship to Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Max and Lucas went to UCLA as sports science and physical therapy double majors, El went to Vanderbilt University in Nashville to pursue a degree in therapy, and Will… Will went to Chicago. Which school he went to, or if he went to college at all, I didn’t know. To study what, I had no clue. Where he lived within the city, I hadn’t the slightest idea. That’s what happens when your ex-best friend up and leaves without so much as a “goodbye.” I considered the day Will left to be the day my world stopped turning and time froze. So I took off my watch and hid it in a shoebox under my bed with the rest of my mini-shrine.

Dr. Owens and his team had arranged government-mandated counseling for all of those involved in the Vecnapocalypse. A year in, though, I didn’t see a point in going anymore. I was healed. I was fine. I was ready to move on with my life. Well, everyone else in the Party was ready to move on. Why wouldn’t I be? It probably hadn’t been the best decision on my part to stop going to therapy, but without Will in my life, I didn’t have much of a reason to stay in Hawkins at all, and I really didn’t feel like dredging up my past once a week to pick apart as if I were in an anatomy lab practical. Besides, I didn’t feel like arguing anymore with my dad. So, I begrudgingly packed my bags and headed to Indianapolis, killing two birds with one stone.

When I got to campus, I was assigned to dorm with this guy named Elvis (yes, as in Presley). Aside from his stupid ass name, Elvis Kuiken was a good roommate. He was a senior who kept to himself most days, when he wasn’t working. He was clean, at least by my standards (which were on the floor, literally and figuratively speaking), and he was also part of a fraternity. He’d always bring me along to parties, all in the name of the formative freshman experience. What this “experience” primarily entailed, I came to find out, was alcohol. Weed, too, no doubt… but extra emphasis on alcohol.

I didn’t want to admit it, at least not to others, but I became a lot more withdrawn since my falling out with Will. I wasn’t as outgoing, as daring, or as extroverted as I used to be. I was used to being an outcast of sorts, so not much changed there. Except now, where I used to have the confidence to at least approach people and introduce myself– “Hi, I’m Michael! Do you want to be my friend?” “Yes.”– I couldn’t do that anymore. It was like my communicational skills had completely disappeared. But during my first party, I took a shot of tequila and must’ve made at least ten acquaintances within the three hours I was there. If only Troy could see how popular I was now. He’d piss his pants… again. It was like a light flickered on in my head; the more I drank, the more sociable I’d become. I took this epiphany and ran with it.

One time back in— September?— or something, I had been at a party for a few hours, and came up with the idea to try every single type of liquor to ever exist. I picked up a shot glass and stood at the counter for a good fifteen minutes, downing shot after shot. I woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache, unsure of how I even got back to my dorm room. But then I looked to my right and saw Elvis’s head resting on my very shirtless, hickey-covered chest. Oh. That’s how I got home. I wasn’t able to wear any shirts with collars below my clavicle for days. I didn’t hate it, though. In fact, that wasn’t the last time my roommate and I hooked up. Stumbling through the door, making out in the dark, and whispering each other’s names into otherwise complete silence until the sun came up became a regular occurrence.

Christmas break arrived, and most of my time back in Hawkins was spent trying to avoid Will. And from the way I saw it, Will was everywhere. He was the art on my bedroom wall. He was the yellow sweater that hung in my closet, probably the only colorful item in my entire wardrobe that I hadn’t thrown out, because it was Will’s sweater. He was the shea butter soap on the bathroom counter. He was the hot cocoa mix in the kitchen cabinet. He was the D&D box buried underneath my bed that I neglected since Eddie’s death in 1986. He was the Party. So I didn’t leave my basement for the entirety of mid-December to the beginning of January, with the exceptions of family dinners and sleep. I won’t lie, I was a little bit ashamed of how I’d handled things with the Party. I definitely shouldn’t have iced everyone out. My friends made various attempts to get the Party back together, and always invited me, but I’d always have some kind of excuse as to why I couldn’t hang out with them. They eventually stopped calling.

One Saturday afternoon, I was sprawled out on the couch watching Star Wars: Episode VI– Return of the Jedi, and Nancy and Jonathan came barrelling in through the basement entrance, practically swallowing each other whole. I missed the feeling of being in love. I’d cleared my throat when it started to get a bit too steamy, causing the lovebirds to jump apart in shock. Nancy smoothed her skirt while Jonathan lifted a hand into the air to greet me. I nodded back in acknowledgement. This silent interaction had me wanting to crawl out of my skin. All I wanted to do was ask Jonathan about Will; how Will was, what Will was doing, if Will had met anyone, if Will remembered me. It was like Jonathan could read my mind, because he said, completely unprompted, “He still thinks about you, Mike. He hasn’t forgotten you.” I actively committed those words to memory.

I ran into Joyce during a last minute school supplies shopping trip to Melvald’s on my way out of town. It was bound to happen at some point, what with Joyce owning Melvald’s now. I’d expected it to be awkward, but was proven wrong when Joyce practically jumped the counter to engulf me, her honorary third son, in a hug. She’d pulled me all the way down to her level, so I was bent at almost a 90 degree angle, but I didn’t care.

“How’ve you been, sweetheart? How’s Indy treating you?” she asked. That was a loaded question. It would be spectacular if your son hadn’t left, but whatever.

“It’s treating me well, I’m mostly taking my gen eds right now, but I’m always writing my own material when I’m not in class,” I grinned, trying my best to not let it look fake or forced. Joyce seemed to buy it.

“I’m so glad to hear that. You know, I always knew you were going to become a writer,” Joyce smiled, and I nodded, staying as neutral as possible. I knew where she was going with this. “I remember it as if it were yesterday,” bingo, “that in the mornings after your sleepovers, you and Will would sit at the dining room table with your eggs and maple syrup and work on your comics for hours. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah,” I replied wistfully, “I do.” I glanced down at my shoes, trying not to let any tears escape. The amount of crying over Will that I’d done just within the time I was back home was pathetic. But Joyce didn’t seem to mind in the least, because she reached up and ran her thumbs over my cheeks, where a few stray tears had traveled down against my will.

“Oh, honey,” Joyce held my face in her hands, eyes filled with compassion, and pulled me into another hug, holding me close. I had always loved Joyce, but this mutual understanding led me to reserve a special place in my heart for her.

We engaged in a little more small talk before she personally walked (dragged) me through the store with my shopping list to retrieve the items I needed. When she checked out my items at the counter, she grabbed a pen and post-it note, wrote something on it, and handed it to me. I held it up to eye level with a shaky hand.

“That’s Will’s phone number, he’s at the American Academy of Art,” she whispered. My eyes widened, and I breathed, “Thank you, Ms. Byers. So much,” before heading out the door to my car. I sat in the parking lot for a solid fifteen minutes, causing myself to fall behind schedule, but I had Will’s phone number. That was a good enough reason to be late, in my book.

After what felt like a fucking eternity, I was finally able to return to campus. I’d set my suitcase down next to my bed, and took a minute to collect my thoughts prior to unpacking. All of a sudden, Elvis clumsily tripped over his own feet through the door, sheepishly grinning at me, having just been startled. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, followed by a quiet, “hi.” Seconds later, we were all over each other.

It was around this time that I finally came to terms with the undeniable fact that I was exclusively attracted to men. I’d always believed my sexual preferences existed as a strict ratio of 70:30, with 70% being women and 30% being men. I’d always been aware of my attraction to guys (Will); I’d been sure of that for as long as I could remember. The confusing part about it all was when El came into the picture, and everyone and their mother expected us to start dating. I was, like, twelve at the time, so of course I went along with what everyone else wanted. That backfired majorly when El confronted me with tears in her eyes, asking, “But… you don’t love me anymore?” and my impulse response was, “I don’t even think I loved you romantically to begin with.” It took a long time for me and El to repair our friendship following that conversation, and to help me bullshit my parents into falling for some half-baked reason as to why my “sweetie pie” and I broke up so suddenly.

When I started my… situationship with Elvis, though, I began to question my 70:30 ratio. Elvis, to put it simply, was hot. He was taller than me, just by an inch, but it didn’t stop him from calling me “short.” I found that hilarious, as I stood at a staggering six foot three. Elvis had tanned skin, blonde hair which he kept in a preppy side part, and bright eyes that captured the essence of the bluest sky. He had full lips, a chiseled jawline, and a lean yet muscular build with the likeness of a Greek statue. Elvis had the most gorgeous hands. I particularly liked when those hands pinned my wrists above my head. I also liked when those blue eyes bore into my soul in the way that only one other pair of eyes had ever been able to do within my mere eighteen years of life. And I loved when that chiseled jawline, rough from lack of shaving, rubbed abrasively against my neck.

Elvis was adamant on there being no strings attached. He made sure to remind me every time we did anything remotely sexual, but over time, those words began to lose their potency, like watering down vodka to make it go down smoother. My wide eyes and “yes, of course, I understand”s were slowly replaced with absentminded “mmhmm”s. I figured that as long as Elvis never picked up on my social cues (or lack thereof), and as long as he never knew about me secretly developing more-than-fuck-buddies feelings for him, I would be in the clear. But eventually, something in Elvis had melted away, and he started calling me “my boy,” “love,” and “sweetheart,” amongst other gross (sweet) pet names. I assumed that Elvis had caved and given up on whatever rules he’d set for himself.

Regardless of the apparent stability in our situationship, my mind dwelled in a constant state of disarray. I knew I was not straight. I wasn’t even sure if I was bisexual. I became more conscious of who caught my eye in public, and what I wanted out of the people I interacted with. I discovered I didn’t feel the same way about curves, boobs, or soft lips as I felt when I saw a pair of broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, or a tapered waistI felt different.

Part of me resented myself for being different. I hated the idea of being a target, whether it be for my family, the government, or society as a whole. I'd tried to change. I hooked up with a few girls over the course of a week, “just to see something,” but I'd spent the entire time wondering when it would be over so I could go home. All of those girls either got bored, weren’t satisfied, or got mad that I couldn’t get it up— if not a combination of all three— and left. I scared myself a little when I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty.

When my encounter with the last girl fell through, I decided I didn’t want to live my life in sexuality limbo anymore. I ran all the way back to my dorm hall, hauled ass up the stairwell, and let myself into my room. Elvis spun around from where he sat at his desk, and could barely get out a “Hey, man,” before I was ripping Elvis from his chair and pulling him in, kissing him with all my might. It didn’t take long for Elvis to reciprocate my advances, kissing back with equal intensity and pushing me back until we hit the side of Elvis’s raised bed frame. I huffed a laugh against Elvis’s lips before hoisting myself up backwards and onto the mattress, watching as Elvis chased after me. He pushed his knee between my legs, and I took the hint, wrapping my ankles around Elvis’s hips. “I want to be with you, baby. With strings, all the strings,” I had told Elvis before pulling him down for another searing kiss, and… that was when my memory cut out for the evening.

I woke up the next morning, hangover hitting me like a truck, to see Elvis already awake and dressed, lifting boxes onto a trolley that was stationed in the middle of the room. Through squinted eyes, I noticed Elvis’s side of the room was essentially bare, save for the dorm furniture, which belonged to the school.

“What’s happening?” I croaked out, and Elvis dropped the box he was holding onto the pile with a loud thump. “Too loud. Headache,” I whispered sharply through gritted teeth.

“It always is too loud, isn’t it?” my roommate laughed wryly to himself, not making any effort to be any quieter. I sat up, rubbing my eyes and ignoring the fact that I was naked and in Elvis’s bed, the only thing that hadn’t been packed up yet.

“What the fuck, Elvis? What are you doing?”

“I’m moving out today, remember?” The two young men finally gained eye contact, and I felt my stomach drop like I was on a roller coaster. “I’m graduating in a few days and need my stuff out by this afternoon.”

Move out was today? Vecna must have been back with a vengeance, because how else would time move so quickly on its own? Sure, Elvis mentioned in passing, like, a few weeks ago, at most, that he was leaving soon. But it still didn’t make sense, because it was only… What, March? No, The Phone Call™ was a while ago. Was it April? My mom called me at least a few weeks prior to wish me a happy nineteenth birthday. Plus, weren’t commencement ceremonies scheduled for the weekend of– “What’s today’s date?”

I watched the blonde in front of me unsubtly scoff with impatience. “It’s May 1st, Mike.” I could only blink back at Elvis in response for a few seconds while I tried to process the fact that my brain was capable of skipping over whole months of my life. There was no way it was May 1st already.

“No,” was the only word I was capable of saying.

“Yet here we are, baby,” Elvis sneered as he whipped his comforter off of me, leaving me exposed and humiliated. “Time flies when you’re blackout drunk. I suggest you try and get your drinking under control, before you end up having to drop out.”

It was like Elvis was a completely different person, completely different from the man who had fucked me senseless the night before. What did I do to deserve this? I didn’t do or… say anything? Oh no. Now I knew what was going on. I drank too much, opened up, and blurted out loud that I wanted to be in a relationship with Elvis, who didn’t feel the same. my face was on fire with embarrassment.

I scrambled off the bed and ran to get dressed while Elvis pulled the last of his sheets off the cheap university mattress. He didn’t fold them, and instead balled them up and shoved them in the trash. I could barely breathe. I merely stood there and watched as my gorgeous Greek (actually Dutch) god of a roommate left our shared room for the last time. Well, I seemingly dodged a bullet. What an asshole.

I was sad that Elvis was gone, but it didn’t completely destroy me the way Will leaving did. What it most likely came down to, in Elvis’s instance, was a horrible case of internalized homophobia. I was very familiar with this mindset; I'd fought a gory, gruesome battle with my own mind for my entire adolescence, at war with myself to prevent acting upon my ever-growing romantic love for Will. But one day, my feelings finally retaliated, and my life immediately went to shit.

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?”

“No, Will, I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”

Comparing the two inevitably led to some old memories resurfacing to haunt me, but I felt strangely lucky. I'd been let off easily. Despite the way I stood completely stupefied in my dorm room, I knew this was temporary, and had full confidence that I'd be able to recover from this pretty quickly. Said confidence was probably the only thing that saved me from losing my mind. Well, that, and the pressure to pass my classes distracted me for a few days. Without having done much studying at all, I army crawled through my finals and barely made it out alive.

About a week later, I moved out of my dorm hall and into an apartment about two miles away from campus. It was a pretty nice place, considering the rent he (my father) paid for it. I got a job at the local coffee shop… which I lost before the month was up, because he never showed up to my shifts. I'd been shocked when Ted insisted upon co-signing the lease, because I didn’t think my dad would be willing to help me stay away from Hawkins. On the other hand, though, it made sense when Ted told me flat out that he wanted me out of the house. I didn’t blame him; I'd been referred to by my father as a “leech” on multiple occasions during my stay over Christmas break, which pretty much tracked. I felt a little guilty about that one.

I appreciated the independence, I truly did. It was a great feeling to have my own room again, to have a more comfortable desk chair to sit at while I drew up plans for a new fantasy novel starring a gay protagonist, to have a bathroom to myself, and most importantly, to have a full-sized refrigerator to fill with all the alcohol I could ever want. But sometimes, late at night, I would catch myself getting a bit too sad.

The entire summer was an endless cycle. I would wake up and make a pot of coffee. I'd sit down and write a chapter or two of my book, and stick to doing that for a few hours. I would check the time (on my wall clock, of course) and take a lunch break, which was usually a box of Annie’s shells and white cheddar. After I'd haphazardly tossed my singular bowl and fork into the sink to be washed later, I'd go back to writing. This wouldn’t last long, because I'd get distracted after smoking a joint, and probably end up staring at that one photo of myself and Will from senior year (Jonathan captured the moment: I had, by some miracle, perched myself up on Will’s handlebars, and Will struggled to hold his bike steady because I was laughing too hard) that sat framed on my desk. I'd snap out of my trance ten minutes later and mentally kick myself for staring for so long, which led to grabbing some form of alcohol and getting wasted, like all my potential. I would make one last attempt at writing and fail miserably. I'd stumble into the shower, and drag myself through my apartment until I found my bed. Most nights, I would end up crying myself to sleep, staring at The Painting™, which I'd tacked up on my bedroom ceiling as a form of self-punishment. It was a sad way to live, really. So I vowed that when the school year started up again, things would be different.

That was how I ended up at the library in late July, browsing the mythology section, squinting at titles printed on spines while my lips formed a straight, thin line. I knew I was officially a hermit when even the library gave me social anxiety. I'd just pulled a rather old looking book off the shelf when a tenor voice behind me caught me off guard.

“Never thought I’d see the day that book would leave the shelf. You must’ve had to brush off, like, a hundred years’ worth of dust just to get to the cover.” I twisted around to put a face to a voice, and was pleasantly surprised when I met eyes with a short guy (well, to me he was short; he was probably, like, 5’9”) with dyed, firetruck red hair that fell over his forehead in a sweeping motion. I liked how he wasn’t afraid to be bold.

“You’re definitely right about that,” I smirked, setting the book down and watching as the growing pile teetered from side to side on the table’s surface. I couldn’t decide where I wanted my story to go next, let alone if I wanted to continue with my current plot at all, so I'd planned on taking a bit of inspiration from… well, everything.

“So you’re into mythology?” the guy asked, and I shoved my hands in my pockets, leaning against the bookshelf as I focused my gaze down. He had pretty eyes. They were hazel, but not too green, not like–

“Yeah, I’m a creative writing major, and I’m trying to expand my horizons a little,” I replied, sitting down at the table. “Like, not to discount the genius of Tolkein, because he literally founded my childhood, but sometimes it’s good to go back to the basics and draw inspiration from there.”

The guy shrugged, and sat across the table from me. “Nothing wrong with that. I think it’s really smart, actually. Or else stories end up getting repetitive and dull.”

“Exactly!” I pointed both index fingers in the guy’s direction, as if to say, “Finally, someone who understands!” I struggled with this concept lately; the uniqueness factor. It turned out that having a male protagonist who just so happened to be romantically attracted to other males wasn’t enough reason to get a book to sell. I needed something else, something of substance, and something that wouldn’t remind readers of other books they’d previously read. “Are you into writing as well?”

“No,” the guy shyly smiled, “I’m just into guys who write about mythology.” Pardon? Was this masculine male-dude-man hitting on me? In public? I wasn’t complaining, but I hadn’t necessarily picked up on any hints. Although, the dyed hair should’ve been a dead giveaway.

“Oh. Um, I– wow, okay,” I stuttered, diverting my eyes to my books for a few seconds to process what was being said before returning to an expectant pair of hazel eyes still looking right at me. “I’m Mike, Mike Wheeler.”

“Wyatt Bowman.”

I cleared my throat. “Are you free in an hour, Wyatt?”

“Yeah, why?” Wyatt raised an eyebrow, causing me to huff a nervous laugh, tapping my Ticonderoga pencil against my spiral-bound notebook at the same speed my knee bounced up and down underneath the table.

“I just gotta take some notes from here, then I was thinking we could… hang out, or something?” I glanced up hopefully at Wyatt.

The corners of Wyatt’s mouth curved upwards as he repeated, “Or something?”

I nodded, confirming our silent sub-conversation.

“Cool. That sounds like a good plan,” Wyatt said, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table as he rose out of the seat and headed for the exit.

“Cool,” I whispered back, reminiscent of a certain afternoon in a certain town in California in a certain room with a certain boy that made me feel a certain way. But that was the past, and I believed I was ready for the future.

When I started seeing Wyatt Bowman, we’d established that our relationship would not be serious. We were, in a small amount of words, friends with benefits. And we were actually friends. We could hang out without getting all hot and heavy. And I didn’t have any objections; I actually preferred the idea of friends who sometimes had sex over the label-less, no strings arrangement that Elvis and I had. It left less room for loopholes of chronic insecurity and self sabotage. It also, in turn, left more room for exploration.

I met Wes Butler in August at my first ever visit to an actual bar. I'd been sitting at the counter with a few of my female friends (Ruby, Alexis, and Julia), and had just received one of the fruitiest cocktails I'd ever tasted when a piece of eye candy, who might as well have been dressed in nothing, lightly tapped my shoulder and asked me to dance. Of course the girls encouraged me, not really giving me an option in the matter, but hey, good dick was good dick. It didn’t really turn into much else; once we’d had a few rounds of unnecessarily loud sex in a supply closet (ironic, but typical), I bid goodbye to my friends, tossing my condom wrappers in the trash on the way out.

I met another guy, Walker Brooks, in September at an off-campus nerd rave. He looked a lot like Eddie Munson, which may or may not have been coincidental. We left the party not even an hour after it began to go to Walker’s dorm. We fucked in between Lord of the Rings themed bedsheets, and I had to endure an excruciating hour and a half of Walker speaking Elvish rather than English. Afterwards, he invited me to join the University of Indy D&D Club, of which he was, of course, the Dungeon Master. I politely declined.

On a particularly difficult October night following being roofied followed by some unwanted advances, I slapped myself awake with one hand as I unsteadily held my handlebars with the other, biking back to my apartment. My grip slipped, and the front wheel hit the curb, which sent the bike to come to a screeching halt and throw me over the handlebars, tumbling onto the concrete. Warren Blakely, one of my classmates in English 101, watched me fall, stopped me from biking again before I hurt myself even more, and asked me what exactly had happened. Once I told Warren what had gone down, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. Over the next two months or so, Warren kept me safe and let me take control back over my own life. Warren and I had a special bond. If I didn’t still love Will, and if I didn’t have such extreme trust issues, I would have absolutely dated Warren if provided the chance. But I couldn’t, not until I got over Will, so I ended things with Warren. This specific relationship put things into perspective for me. In the end, none of these men I slept with would ever be Will Byers. So I'd either have to get over Will, or find someone better.

On the nights I wasn’t at parties, I was at my desk, writing letters to Will. It was kind of cathartic, honestly. I'd rip a piece of college ruled paper out of my notebook, just like old times, and write letter after letter saying things along the lines of:

Dear Will, I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry that I love you. I’m sorry I did what I did to you. And I’m sorry I can’t take it back. I wish we could be best friends again. I wish we could have late night walkie conversations like we used to. I want nothing more than to play D&D in the basement with you for the rest of our lives. Love, Mike

These occasional letters became a part of my nightly routine… whenever I wasn’t too fucked up to focus my eyes on my own handwriting. And recently, it was more often than not that I couldn’t actually fall asleep without drinking. I wasn’t even of legal age yet, and wouldn’t be for another two years.

I stopped attending my classes halfway through the semester, so it wasn’t a surprise when my grades plummeted. My mailbox became inundated with letters from the registrar’s office, advising me to withdraw from the classes I was failing before the pass/fail deadline, but I couldn’t care less; so, not only did I fail out of my classes, but I couldn’t even retake the classes even if I wanted to, because my record forced me into the red zone. And the entire time, I couldn’t feel a thing.

If someone were to ask me what time it was, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. First off, I would look down at my watch and realize that said watch was not on my wrist. I would then ask myself why my watch was not on my wrist, then I would remember, oh yeah, Will has a matching one, and I was dead to Will, so I didn’t wear the watch anymore. Time was just a construct, anyway. In the end, I'd probably mess around with the person asking and say some shit like, “It’s 420:69.” I was drunk, though, so I was allowed.

I was at some frat party, spending what was my last official night as a student at the University of Indianapolis with the brotherhood of Alpha Lambda Dickhole. I was seated on some musty couch, stained with whatever the fuck that was, with an empty glass resting between my legs and a bottle of whiskey in my hand. I'd given up some time ago on trying to pace myself. Some kind of synth-infused rock music vibrated across the floor, and I could feel the bass reverberating in my bones, which would normally make me want to get up and dance, but I wasn’t particularly in a celebratory mood; I was only halfway through my sophomore year, and had just dropped out.

“Hey, by any chance do you know the time?” a deep voice asked, and I lifted my gaze up from my lap to a muscular brunette. I blinked a few times in an attempt to form a coherent sentence.

“I, uh– I don’t—” I stuttered, lifting my bare, watch-less wrist up to show to the guy, who merely lifted an unserious eyebrow and chuckled. He took my hand in his and let it down gently before sitting next to me on the couch.

“It’s all good, man. I was just using that as a reason to talk to you.”

I was surprised someone clocked me that quickly. But then again, I was wearing insanely tight jeans that I'd cut right above the knee paired with a floral print shirt. I wasn’t exactly being subtle. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” the guy laughed, extending a rough, calloused hand. Did he lift weights? Or play guitar? Or both? “I’m Carter, by the way.” At least his name didn’t begin with a W. Or maybe it did, but the W was silent. Wcarter. Ouah-carter. Wah-carter. Double-you-carter. Dub-yuh-Carter. Cart… Chart… Astrological chart. I made a mental note to check my horoscope. What was I thinking about originally? I couldn’t remember.

Jesus. I was hammered.

“I’m Mike,” I replied, taking the guy’s— Carter’s— hand, but Carter didn’t shake it. He instead let our fingers intertwine, anticipatorily slow. Okay. I could be good with this.

“Do you maybe want to get out of here, Mike?” Carter asked, and I felt a blush rising to my face.

“Sure, yeah,” I breathed, and let Carter pull me up out of my sunken spot on the couch, down some hallway, and into an empty bedroom. I scoped out the place and noticed a photo of Carter with a dog framed on the desk; this was his room. I exhaled in relief. I didn’t want to have sex in someone else’s bed. Never again.

Carter pulled the door closed and locked it, turning around to face me before looking me up and down. I gulped. I hadn’t realized before, because it was so dark, but in the lamplight, Carter’s resemblance to Will was uncanny. He was a few inches shorter than me, and had a muscular build– that much I knew already. Thank god he didn’t have a bowl cut. He had a strong jawline but a subtle softness to his features. His lips were a light pink, the upper one a bit thinner than the lower one. The most similar feature they shared, though, was their bright green eyes, full of life, and something else I couldn’t name… intention? Vulnerability? Yearning?

In my inebriated state, I didn’t notice how close Carter had gotten until I felt two hands snaking their way up my shoulders and joining behind my neck, pulling me down until our lips met. I couldn’t move fast enough, lifting my shaking hands to rest on Carter’s waist, pulling him into my chest and deepening the kiss immediately. Carter was more languid in his movements, while I was more firm and calculated; this felt strangely antithetical. It probably had to do something with my increased tolerance. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, but if there was one person who knew how to repress their feelings with a series of bad decisions, it was me. Mike Wheeler. My life was already on fire, what more could possibly happen to exacerbate the flame?

The two of us made our way over to Carter’s bed, where we quickly undressed. Carter kissed down my body, and I ran my hands through Carter’s hair. Then he went down on me without warning.

“Ah!” I yelped in surprise, my exclamation becoming a moan almost instantaneously. This was good. This felt nice. This is exactly what I’d imagine–

“Will…”

“Excuse me?”

And with that, the night was over. Carter stopped what he was doing, got up, muttered a “fuck you,” and left without another word. I felt the world zeroing in on me. I could just picture what I’d write in my next letter:

Dear Will,

I said your name while another guy had my dick in his mouth. Do you believe me now?

Love, Mike

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