#the BLATANT favoritism he has for her and then she was like hey idiot I'm literally still a jedi

[apas-75]

Relationships that are adjacent. To me.

(When you're a Jedi Padawan and there's this one dark side guy who is projecting on you like crazy and he's like this is my favorite this kid is just like me for real this is my most specialist princess who I'm going to turn into my mini-me with a bunch of fucked up mindgames and you're like holy shit I have got to get out of here this is so messed up I want my real master back.)

[rancidpancakebatter]

tasm!peter parker

like honestly i’m not sure how to exactly set this up, but like a mini series of like a friends to lovers but the reader already has been in a relationship for like three years or something and she finally realizes that her partner isn’t really fulfilling the role of her partner in the relationship and seeks out help from peter and gwen ? idk i just thought this quote from my favorite movie would fit that, like she should try to make her relationship work or just end it ? idk you know i love you so we’ll see what happens next, i’ll love any direction you’d want to approach it with ! 😊💗🫶🏼🫶🏼

🎥: before we go

brooke dalton:
it’s possible, isn't it? it’s possible that you could meet somebody who's perfect for you even though you're committed to somebody else.

nick vaughan:
no, no, see, i think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else.

Another Way to Fly-[P.P.] | Chapter One

Pairing: TASM!college!Peter Parker x female!college!reader

 Summary: You've been dating Harry Osborne for three years. You love him...but maybe not as much as you once did. Maybe not enough.

AU Where Norman isn’t as sick- he’s just an asshole- and Gwen doesn’t go to Oxford. Harry is functioning as an apprentice at Oscorp (He graduated with a master's in two years because of his studying abroad). You, Peter, and Gwen are all seniors at ESU. Because Norman isn’t dying the whole “Goblin” thing is scratched from the record so Peter and Harry are besties.

Word Count: 3.8k

Content Warnings: Swearing, Drinking (Of age), Skeezy men, Blatant objectification of reader, Norman Osborne (I dunno if that's really a warning but like he's gross and a terrible father so I'm listing it)

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A/N: So sorry this took so long @scorpiolystoned! I got caught up in a lot of stuff and it took a second but the first chapter is FINALLY HERE! I'm having fun with this one :))

You were at yet another fundraiser in yet another gown that cost more than your monthly rent, talking to yet another stuffy old man who felt the need to make his opinion known. You smiled politely as he continued to tell you how your generation's greatest issue was a lack of work ethic, which was rich coming from a man who inherited his ten-million-dollar mansion upstate. You were on your third glass of champagne and considering getting a brandy instead. Anything that might make this conversation less painful. 

Normally you would have no issue telling him off- rattling off about the lies sold to the working class by the privileged elite- but alas, you were here with your boyfriend, and you couldn’t taint his reputation. Harry would be inheriting Oscorp one day and would need these men to like him to keep it running. So you bit your tongue and plastered on a fake smile. 

You said nothing about how insane they all sounded. You said nothing about the racist comments they made about their housekeepers. You said nothing about the skeezy comments they would make about you. You said nothing, because here: women are trophies, not people. 

You hated going to these events but you loved Harry. You knew he didn’t like them much either, constantly having to defend his capability and intelligence to men who claim he’s just an idiot boy with a well-respected father.

He asked you to come to keep him sane. However, he was nowhere to be seen. There was no one to save you from this creepy man asking if college was really the right move because it would be better to settle down, “it would be a shame to waste all that beauty.” 

You politely excused yourself and made your way to the bar. One benefit of snobby, elitist parties: open bars. You ordered something top-shelf and strong while you fished your phone from your clutch. You sent out a text to Harry letting him know where you were and asking him to come back to your side. You sat there for an hour, nursing your second drink, until he came back. 

“Hey babe, sorry about that. My dad reintroduced me to some shareholders and I couldn’t get away.” He gave you a peck on the lips and he sat down next to you. 

You rested your head on his shoulder and his arm draped over the back of your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re more than ready to leave.” You told him you were and he nodded. 

As he looked at his watch he sucked his teeth. “If we leave now it’ll be too soon. Can you hang in another hour?” 

You pouted at him and he leaned into you, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You shivered as he kissed just below your ear. He placed his hands in yours as his kisses started trailing lower. 

“Okay, okay. You win.” A smile stretched across his face and you swatched his chest. “But you better not abandon me again. I mean it, Osborn.”

He playfully winces as he stands from his chair, “Ooh, last name. She’s serious.”

He gave you another peck on the lips, “I promise.” 

And with that, you let him lead you back into the horde. 

You made small talk and you played the role of a doting, hype man. To be fair, you didn’t really have to fake that. You loved Harry. It wasn’t hard to gush about his accomplishments, you were immensely proud of him. However you had to format your adoration differently for this crowd, and you hated that. 

An hour turned into two, which turned into three. Eventually, you pulled him aside and told him you were ready to go. You felt gross and emotionally exhausted. Harry said he still couldn’t leave but looking at your face he knew you were done.

He called you a cab and told you he would see you later. You hated leaving without him but understood. After a shower, you got ready for bed. You tried to stay up for him but the drinks you had made your eyes heavy and soon you were drifting off to sleep. 

You woke up the next morning in an empty bed. You checked your phone to see Harry had texted you. 

“I went home with my father last night. Have a good day of classes.” You pushed away the sadness you felt and sent him a text saying you would, asking if you would see him today. 

You got up and ready and made your way to a cafe just off campus. Every Monday, you went to Cafè Luna and met up with your friends before class. It was a lovely tradition that began about a year ago when you all discussed how abhorrent you found Mondays. This was a good way to make sure everyone started off on a good note. 

You pulled at the glass door and were greeted by the smell of cocoa, butter, sugar, bread, and coffee. A mix that always made you happy. You got in line, pondering what kind of breakfast you wanted today. You could go for the classic breakfast sandwich, or possibly a sweet treat would brighten your mood more. You decided on both, knowing Gwen would split whatever confectionary you got. 

As you got to the counter, you gave the cashier your order and handed her Harry’s card. You grabbed a table while you waited for your order to be called out. Just then, two of your three favourite people walked in. You smiled as Gwen waved, rushing towards you to wrap you in a hug. She kissed you on the cheek before separating. Peter beamed at you as well and enveloped you in a firm hug.

You would never tell anyone, but he was the best hugger in the group by far. He always hugged with just enough strength to make you feel warm and safe but not enough to hurt or feel trapped. 

Once in your unofficial seating chart, Peter looks around the shop. “Where’s Harry?” 

You force a smile, trying not to let your own disappointment show. “He’s at his dad’s. I’m not sure he’s gonna make it today.”

Peter huffed, letting his lips flap together at the end. “Bummer, I was hoping to see ole Harr-Harr.”

You nodded in understanding, wishing for the same. You couldn’t get too lost in your thoughts as you heard your name called from across the cafe. 

You stood from your chair, “Sorry guys, I already ordered. I was pretty hungry.”

They both reassured you that it was fine. Peter stood from the table as well. “I’ll go get in line.” 

He kissed Gwen on the forehead before walking across the store with you. You grabbed your food and headed back to the table. You placed your cinnamon roll between you and Gwen and passed her a fork.

She feigned innocence, claiming she couldn’t possibly take your food, but eventually gave in when you pointed out how big it was. This was a local shop, and they made all their baked goods in huge sizes. The cinnamon roll between you was almost as big as your hand. 

Peter soon returned with his and Gwen’s orders. Gwen thanked him with a kiss on the cheek as Peter casually draped his arm around her. You smiled at the couple and the domesticity they displayed. It was sweet. 

“So,” Gwen asked pulling you from your thoughts, “How was your weekend?” 

You told her about how you spent most of it preparing for Oscorp's last fundraiser. Norman did a fundraiser once a month, cycling through different organizations and causes.

Last night was for Cerebral Palsy. There was a giant check for a cool million dollars on display in the Osborn name. You hated that charity was thrown around in this way, as a power grab, but you guess there are worst things they could do with their money. 

Because of Harry’s absence this morning your friends could sympathise with you openly. 

“Yikes, I don’t miss those.”

“How many guys commented on your dress?”

You chuckled, “Yeah Pete, you’re real lucky and only two men commented on my dress. However, three commented on my hips, and six on how beautiful I was.”

Gwen grimaced while Peter looked between the two of you, confused. “I don’t understand. Being called beautiful is bad?” He looked directly at Gwen, “Should I not call you that anymore?”

She chuckles and places a hand over his heart. You watch Peter physically calm at the act. “No, but there’s a certain way in which some men say that doesn’t really mean ‘you’re beautiful.’”

“It means, ‘I see you as a sex object and I am imagining having sex with you right now as we are talking.’” You helpfully supplied. 

Gwen raised a finger and pointed it at you with a look of “she’s right.” Peter scrunched up his face in disgust. 

“Ew, men are pigs.” You both hummed in agreeance as you tore into your breakfast sandwich. 

They told you of their weekend: Dinner at Mays and a nice night in. You tried not to be jealous. You wished that you could do that sort of stuff with Harry. He always wanted to go out, spend money, be seen. You wished that your attention was enough. 

You almost got lost in your conversation about work when you caught a glimpse of your phone on the table. You usually kept it in your purse, but you were hoping to get a message from Harry. 

“Oh shit! Sorry, I gotta run or I’ll be late for class.” You gathered your stuff and hugged your friends goodbye. 

This was a nice tradition, you thought. Your Monday definitely felt a lot better. 

You walked out of your last class and sent another text to Harry. He still hadn’t replied to your earlier one from this morning. 

“Hey! Missed you at Luna’s today. I’m on my way home.”

You didn’t officially live with Harry, but you might as well. For the past four months, you spent almost every night there. He had made space for you and your things. You had your products in the bathroom and your snacks in the cupboard. Really you only went home for more clothes or if he was busy with work. You knew he appreciated his space when he was working. 

As you sat on the subway, you tapped your foot to the beat of the music pumping in your headphones while considering what you would make for dinner tonight, what Harry would want to eat. You scrolled through Pinterest to form ideas. 

When you got to the lobby, the doorman greeted you as always. You had given Harry a key to your place ages ago, and in return, he added you to his “list”.

Harr lived in a very expensive Manhatten penthouse, and with its security and staff, you couldn’t enter without him. He didn’t really use a key because he had a private elevator. So instead, he registered you with the building so you could come and go as you please. 

When you exited the elevator you called out for him, but it seemed he wasn’t home. You dropped off your stuff and took shower. You loved his shower. The water pressure was amazing and the water never got cold.

As you stepped out you wrapped yourself in his robe and reapplied your makeup in the mirror. Your hair was still wrapped in product, being shaped just right, when you started getting dressed.

Harry still hadn’t texted you back but that wasn’t unheard of. He often got caught up in his work. You knew it could be stressful for him though and you wanted him to come back home to no worries. You put on his favourite lingerie set and one of his dress shirts. You twirled and posed in the mirror, feeling quite good about yourself. 

He would be home in about three hours which gave you time to make something for dessert too. You rummage around the fridge and decide on homemade gnocchi, served with a white cheese sauce, asparagus, and buttered scallops. For dessert, you think, a simple fruit tart.

You get to work juggling various doughs and many burners. When you had a minute, you set the table and picked out a red wine that you thought would pair well with the dish. You wanted to arrange flowers for the table, but unfortunately, you didn’t have any, and you didn’t want to risk losing time getting dressed and running down the block. 

The penthouse smelled fantastic, and you were proud of your work. You had been dancing around a playlist comprised of “American Standards”. Your hips swayed to the likes of Etta James, Nat King Cole, Bobby Darin, and Doris Day as you made sure everything looked perfect. You missed Harry today and hoped this would put him in a good mood. 

You heard your name being called into the space and your feet carried you to the source. Your smile was grand as you jumped onto your toes to throw your arms around his neck. You buried your face into him, conscious of your makeup. 

“Hey, Harr-Bear! I missed you!” His arms slowly wrapped around you, but the hold felt foreign. 

“Uh, yeah, me too.” He stepped away from you, and his brow furrowed as he looked you over.

“What are you wearing?” Your fingers fiddled with the hem of the shirt, suddenly feeling small. 

“I…I know you like it when I wear your clothes, and I- I just thought that maybe you had a hard day, so I wanted to- to surprise you.” Harry looked more than stressed, he looked scared. 

He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. His hand came up to his hair as he looked around. 

“(Y/n), I need you to-”

The elevator door opened, and it was too late. The warning he tried to give you was futile as you saw an all too familiar face walk into the room. 

Oh shit.

His dad. 

He wore a smile you hesitate to call forced. To force a smile, you must put effort into it, but in Norman’s endless quest to evade age- death, really- he had gotten a lot of work done. This resulted in a permanent crooked smile, and brows that looked just a little too high. You had no issue with people getting cosmetic surgery; whatever makes you feel more comfortable, ya know?

But you did have a problem with Norman Osborn. And you had a huge issue with him seeing you in your current state. Panic. Full blown panic. All you can think is “hide!” So you do.

“The scallops!” You ran back to the kitchen as the smell of them roasting wafted through the air. 

As you hastily flip them, you look down at your “outfit”. The shirt you picked was thin, almost sheer, making the black set you wore underneath entirely obvious. You might as well be running around naked.

The only way to get to Harry’s room is to cross the living room and run up the stairs, but that means you would have to pass Norman, who is no doubt, doing his surveillance of Harry’s space- being sure to throw in as many passive aggressive comments about his son’s life and design choices. 

“Smells delicious in here. Did you cook, Harold?” You hate when he calls him that, and so does Harry. It’s just another reminder that he will never be his own achievements, only his name. 

You look across the stove. There isn’t enough there for three. You wished Harry had mentioned bringing his father back with him. You would have prepared better.

You considered, for a moment, ducking into the pantry and just waiting for him to leave. He would never need to know you were here. But he probably heard your exclamation and saw you run. Hiding wasn’t much of an option. 

“Oh, well hello (L/n).” You felt your blood run cold. 

Slowly you turned to see Norman just in the threshold of the kitchen. His forced smile is now a smirk that makes you nauseous as his eyes trail over your body. 

“Dr Osborn.” You try to sound respectful, but it comes out curter than you intended. 

Harry is standing behind him, always in his shadow. His eyes were wide, full of shock and horror. 

“Is that what you’re planning to wear for dinner?” He still had yet to make eye contact, and it took all of your strength not to curl up in a ball and hide from his gaze. 

“I-No, I uh. I’m sorry I wasn’t expecting you. I was just about to change, but I didn’t want anything to burn.” You try to smile as you start pulling things off the burners. 

“Harrold, man the stove so your girlfriend can change into something that doesn’t look like it was made for a costume in an adult film.”

Only then does Harry jump into action to save you. He awkwardly enters behind his father, who doesn’t move to let him by, and grabs the tongs from your hand.

Your feet carry you quickly across the polished hardwood, and once on the stairs, you can feel Norman’s eyes on you. You pull the shirt down, a feeble attempt to cover your ass, but it doesn’t do much. When you finally close the door behind you, you feel like crying. This was so humiliating. 

You hate Norman. He’s so gross and has no problem ogling you (in anything you wear) while talking down to you. He was never much of a fan of yours.

You didn’t come from money, going up poor in Brooklyn. You weren’t a super genius. You weren’t even interested in science. When you first met Harry, you didn’t even know who he was, but obviously, you only liked him for his money. Norman had more than once commented on the idea of a prenup. 

The first time Harry introduced you to his father, it felt more like an interrogation. He grilled you on your studies and your prospects, and your past. Any answer you gave left him with his scowl well in place. Harry didn’t offer much comfort, but you quickly realised that Norman also made Harry upset, just in a very different way.

He held a lot of contempt for his father. He told you about how he shipped him off for school and never reached out. He didn’t like him, that was for sure, but he ran the chequebook. He ran the business Harry thought was his birthright, but Norman is a calloused narcissist, and Harry knows if he pisses him off too much, he’ll give the company to someone else, just out of spite. 

You put on an agreeable dress Harry had bought for occasions such as these. Dating Harry came with its own culture, in a way. Most of it revolves around a walk-in closet. This was a casual dinner, but in respect for the calibre of the guest you have to dress up a bit. But not too much. Additionally, it's an evening affair, so a certain colour pallet is in order.

This was a black sundress from some Italian import you couldn’t pronounce. Dainty straps rested on your shoulders, and the hem fell just above your knees. It had a modest V cut, and Harry had instructed you to always wear it with jewellery lest you look bare. You selected a thin gold chain with a small heart pendant, a gift for your first anniversary, and subtle hoops to match. You threw half of your hair up in a clip, and slipped on some black heels to go with it, the stark red on the tread peeking out with every step you took. 

As you made your way back downstairs, they were deep in conversation. You nervously joined Harry’s side, and he wrapped an arm around your waist. Norman commented on how you “clean up nice,” and you had to swallow the bile creeping up your throat to thank him. 

Norman made a comment in regards to what a terrible host you were, “I’ve been here nearly thirty minutes, and no one’s offered me a drink.”

While he said “no one”, which could be either you or Harry, you knew he meant you. You hadn’t served him yet. Harry tenses at the comment, and you quickly try to correct the mistake. You step away to the bar cart to fix Norman a whiskey with one large ice cube and make the same for Harr. Only Harry thanks you as you bring them back.

You all move to the seating area as they continue to talk business. You learned very quickly that you were not allowed to chime in on these discussions. You nodded attentively and sat by Harry. After a bit, you suggested they sit at the table for dinner.

You nervously plate the gnocchi and scallops, deciding you will take significantly less than Norman and Harry. You can’t always make something later. You just have to survive this. 

You set the plates in front of them and grabbed the wine, knowing you were served last. As you poured Norman’s glass, he cleared his throat. You looked up, and he pointed at his plate with an unmistakably fake smile. 

“Is this pasta?” You slowly nodded your head.

“I have celiac. This will wreak havoc on my body.” Harry immediately started apologising, throwing you under the bus, as Norman “kindly” explained that he couldn’t have gluten. 

You gripped the wine bottle dangerously in your hands. “I can have a steak ready for you in ten minutes.”

That seemed to placate the man as you filled Harry’s glass and took his plate back to the kitchen. You turned on the oven and put in your serving of asparagus before pulling a steak out of the fridge.

You practised the breathing exercises your therapist had taught you while the steak seared. Honestly, it could be worse. At least being in the kitchen gave you time away. 

You nuked the plate you had taken from Norman and plated the steak, throwing on the asparagus and putting the sauce in a little bowl on the side.

You replaced Harry’s plate with the warm one and presented Norman with his. Then pour yourself a hearty glass of wine, ignoring Norman’s stare, before sitting down with your cold plate of gnocchi. 

They talked about their days, occasionally asking for comments from you. You tried your best to answer and pay attention, but all you could think about was how your homemade pasta was cold. About how this was supposed to be a pleasant night with Harry, and now, you were dealing with this.

Taglist: @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3

[meetmeatthecoda]

I guess I like tortuting myself because I'm rewatching Misère and both crying and hysterically laughing at how both ridiculous and horrible everything that's happening on the screen, everything Liz is doing is.

And a fucking hallucination in the form of none other but Mr Kaplan (the first female character the writers did dirty big time, I believe? symbolic much, huh?) spurring Liz on being the reason she does all this destructive shit? It's peak ridiculous.

But also I've just reached the moment where Mrs French (on a side-note, I'm honestly convinced Mr French is just another alias of Red, therefore, Mrs French is a guardian he sent to watch over his girls as much as she can during these hard times and try to keep at least Agnes safe and comfortable and, ideally, help Liz come back to her senses) tells Liz that her love for her daughter will help her find a way out of this mess and that "Love wins" (same side-note: that phrase alone is such a blatant reference to the conversation Liz had with Red, so...) and Liz proceeds to act both as a selfish, jealous, heartless bitch and an idiot all wrapped in one and I'm not exaggerating when I'm telling you that I screamed at my laptop (i.e at Liz's face) "She meant by reconnecting with the father of your daughter and not by holding someone dear to him hostage and subsequently accidentally killing them, you foolish beetroot!"

Sorry for the rant but I just needed to vent to someone who's both willing to listen and is capable of understanding why I'm so upset and angry and I've always found you to be that person in this fandom.

Hey there, anon!! 🤩 Oh, sweet anon... bless you for re-watching literally any episode of season 8... I could never 🥲 And honestly? This reaction is e v e r y t h i n g. The episode was indeed "peak ridiculous" 😂😭 A Mr. Kaplan hallucination?! A character (yes, the first female character scorned, symbolic indeed, great point, my friend) who was initially so beloved to both the characters on the show AND the audience?!?! Being used as the motivation for Liz's nonsensical & unsubstantiated actions when she literally has no history of mental health problems (other than the memory manipulation naturally) but she's suddenly seeing dead people?!?!?! K. Sure. 😐 And Mrs. French. Oh, boy. (Side-note: The idea of her being hired by Red is a fantastic one that's about 1000x better than the actual canon of her being the wife of some dead contact of Katarina's? That was naturally good with children & took an instant liking to Agnes? So Liz left Agnes with her & took off in Red's jet literally 4 seconds after she met her? Yeah, whatever. That always grated on my nerves. Like, they didn't even try to come up with reasonable ways to get Agnes out of the way. Proof they shouldn't have included the pregnancy in the show to begin with but whatever, I digress.) Yes, the Red-esque "love wins" advice that went so whole-heartedly ignored was the best thing she had to offer 🙄 And when I tell you I cackled at you screaming at your laptop, anon, omg 🤣 Incidentally, "you foolish beetroot" is now my new favorite nickname for season 8 OOC Liz & I can't thank you enough for that 😁 Lastly, there's no need to apologize for your rant, anon, I'm flattered & delighted that you thought of me as your sounding board. Rest assured that all your emotions are valid & you're not alone, as I relate strongly to everything here 😥 Thank you again for sharing, anon, I hope you feel a little better & less alone, & much love to you, my friend!! ❤️

[apenapaperandadoofus]

I won't say I'm in love + Suit Saeran and in Suit Saeran's POV!??? I MEANNNNN??? And like the other believers singing the part of the muses??? YES? 😌 I love this prompt and this sounds sooo fun 😆

YES YES YES I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS AND THE BELIEVERS?! YESSSSSSSSSSS

Also a Jumin version is also incoming since two people asked for it hehe, but I just COULD NOT HELP BUT WRITE THIS ONE FIRST NANSSBBS ITS SO CUTEEE

Also I had a lot lf fun until the last part where I was editing and tumblr actually went fuck you and deleted everything so thanks for that

(also if someone idk wants to draw this or whatever hehe please tell me bc I will actually sell my soul to you.) I will try and uh draw a bit but as yall now, middle hands I don't rest know how to so PFT

Prompt from: give me a mm character and a song

I won't say I'm in love (Saeran x Fem!MC)

Song: I won't say I'm in love (Caleb Hyles)

"And don't you forget that you stupid toy." Saeran said, as he closed the door with a bang. "You all know the rules. Don't you dare touch my toy, and don't let anyone else come in here am I clear?" He told the believers, who stiffened and stuttered, "Yes Mr. Ra- Sorry, sorry! Mr. Saeran...."

Saeran scoffed at the believers but decided to go easy on them this time. After all, today he was in a pretty good mood thanks to his toy.

Or well, at least that what he thought before stopping in the middle of his tracks. Today he wasn't really able to see that scared, helpless look on her face. It was the exact opposite, today she was resilient, and actually fought back, and although he had to admit he liked the fiesty act at first, now it was getting really annoying. I mean, at this point she should be begging on her knees, asking him to please have mercy, that she love-

Wait.

Love??

Saeran's eyes widened as he realized what he has just imagined. He didn't want to hear her telling him how much she loved him. That she needed him, yes, the she was going to do whatever he wanted too, but that she loved him??

He didn't want anyone to love him. Angrily, screaming at himself (or well, at Ray, he had come to the conclusion that it was all that marshmallow's fault) he walked over to the garden. Nothing made him feel better than picking up flowers he knew Ray loved, and then destroying them immediately. It was a hobby of his to be honest.

As he walked through the beautiful garden, he had a mental conversation with himself, mostly about what he thought about....her.

Love....why would he want her to love him? It just didn't make any sense. Just why?

Because you love her.

A voice said, and Saeran immediately turned around, trying to find the idiot who said such a blatant lie.

Love her?

Love her?

In typical Saeran fashion, he scoffed and then tried to come up with a whole list of why his toy wasn't even worthy of his affection. Yet....when he tried to do it....his mind couldn't come up with anything.

Oh.

Oooh.

Oh fuck no.

Saeran ran a hand through his hair and sat on the nearby fountain. He noticed that it was right in front of her room, which still seemed to have the lights on.

Seriously what's that idiot doing awake still....and hey, why do I care?! Seriously, that airhead Ray might've fallen for her, but I'm definetly not going to follow the same path as that dumbass.

He sighed.

"Seriously....If there's a prize for rotten judgement....I guess I've already won that.

No girl is worth the aggravation

That's ancient history, been there, done that." He groaned as he buried his face in his hands and-

"Who d'you think you're kidding

She's the earth and heaven to you."

"HUH?!" Saeran quickly looked up, only to find....the gardener tending to the plants. Hm, the lack of sleep must be making him hear, and especially think, crazy things. He sighed and went back to placing his head on his hands but then-

"Try to keep it hidden,

Honey we can see right through you

Boy you can't conceal it

We know how you're feeling

Who you thiiiinking of!"

Saeran immediately stood up and looked around the garden once again. "Oi whoever is in here, you have three seconds to run before I go and rip your head off."

Silence.

Fucking finally. He thought, as he took a deep breath in and tried to go back into his mediative state.

He turned around to sit back on the corner of the fountain, when a believer appeared out of nowhere.

"The hell are you-" Saeran started, but the believed walked over to him with one finger in the air.

"Aghhhhhh" he said as he stopped in front of him. "Saeran....my boy....you're in love."

"WHAT!? NO WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, AND WHY ARE YOU EVEN- WHO DO YOU- I-' he stuttered, when anither believer came out of the bushes and placed a hand on Saeran's shoulder.

"Aw baby boy, why don't you just go and admit it?"

Another believer appeared from the other side and sighed dreamily. "It's a beautiful thing, so you shouldn't be afraid." The believer said, with a very high pitched voice.

"WHY ARE YOU-HUH!?"

"Love is a beautiful thing Saeran." Saeran heard a deep voice say in front of him, and he almost punched the believer in the face as he came out of the fountain, yes, wet robes and all.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?" Saeram screamed, but the believers (?) Only laughed and then proceeded to get together and strike a really weird group pose.

"We are...YOUR OWN PERSONAL MUSES! AND WE WON'T LEAVE, UNTIL YOU FINALLY REALIZE THE TRUTH!" They all said.

Saeran, who was now pretty annoyed because of the self proclaimed 'muses' and also because he forgot to bring his gun so now he had nothing to threaten them with and let out his anger and insecurities, glared at the group of people and crossed his arms.

"And what is this so called truth?" He asked. The muses smiled even more

"THAT YOU ARE IN.....LOVE!!!!"

Saeran swore he could see confetti suddenly fall from the sky and he let out a sarcastic chuckle.

"Yeah right. With who? MC? Please. I'd never be in love with her."

"But you are!" One of the muses said.

"Just admit Saeran!" Another one chipped in.

He was taken aback for a minute before he went back to giving them muses a deal glare. "I'm not admiting anything. This is stupid seriously, just go away."

"No! We won't! Until you say that you're in LOVE!* The deep voiced muse said and Saedan raised an eyebrow.

"What me?! Seriously?! In love? Please. I'm leaving if you're not, I'm not dealing with this bullshit."

Saedan quickly walked over to another side of the garden, when suddenly the muses appeared in front of him. He turned around, only to find the muses once again.

Everywhere he went, he saw them, and everytime his patience kept running thinner and thinner.

"JUST SAY YOU'RE IN LOVE SAERAN!"

He stopped in his tracks and turned around, stomping his foot.

"NO! No chance no way I won't say it, no...no!" He shook his head side to side and glared.

The muses groaned. "You swoon, you sigh, why deny it? Oh oh."

Saeran blushed. "B-because, it's too cliche! I won't say I'm in love!" He angrily walked over to a bush and glared at the flowers as if that would suddenly help him get rid of his problems. (It was a bush of forget me not's, one of Ray's favorite, ironically it seemed that's where his body took him, probably out of instinct.)

Angrily, he took one out and glared at it.

"Ugh...I thought my heart had learned its lesson...It feels so good when you start out. My head is screaming 'Get a grip boy..." He angrily threw the flower on the ground and stepped on it and let out an exasperated sigh. "Unless you're dying to cry your heart out...." He mumbled and then cursed as he saw the muses again.

"UGH BOY YOU CAN'T DENY IT!! Who you are is how you're feeling!"

"I don't even know what that means-! I-WHY ARE YOU SINGING- I DON'T LIKE HER!""

"Baby we're not buying!"

One of them (it also has to be the one that came out of the fountain due to the wet sleeves) poked Saeran's cheek and smirked.

"Hon we saw you hit the ceiling"

Saeran felt himself blush even more, a gasp escaping from his lips.

"Face it like a grown-up, when you gonna own up that you got, got, got it bad!"

Saeran groaned as he saw the believersline up in a single file and then proceed to do that dance move where each jumps out one after the other.

"God!! No chance no way I won't say it, no no!!!" Saeran stomped his foot once again and shook his head, like a toddler, and the muses rolled their eyes.

"She's just...she's so annoying. I hate her, I hate her face, her hair, her smile, the way her eyes light up when she talks, or how happy she looked when I showed her the garden..."

One if the muses laughed, bringing Saeran out of his trance.

"Give up, give in, check the grin you're in love!" They teased him, which made Saeran gape at them as if he was very offended.

"This scene won't play I won't say I'm in lo-UGH!!

"We'll do it until you admit you're in love!"

"Leave me alone!" Saeran stomped off towards the other side of the garden and the muses followed.

"You're way off base I won't say it...." The muses glared at him with a skeptical glance and he glared.

"Get off my case I won't say it" he growled and say on a bench near by, crossing his arms with his face all red.

"Boy don't be proud it's okay you're in love."-

.

.

"Mister Saeran...Mister Saeran!"

Suddenly Saeran looked up to see the believer who was gardening before. "You fell asleep on the fountain...shall I get you anything?"

Saeran scoffed and pushed the believer's hand from his shoulder.

"Don't you dare to ever touch me again. Go away, I was just- just- ugh! Leave before I tell the others to prepare another cleansing ceremony."

The believer quickly nodded. "Yes sir, of course! I apologize!!!" He quickly left and Saeran watched as he ran away, and then he sighed.

Suddenly he found himself staring at....her room, and for some reason, he felt a very deep part of him glad that she was finally getting some sleep. Then, his eyes widened and he let out a sardonic laugh.

"Fuck....."

He looked back to the flowers and sighed a small, sad smile on his face. "Well....at least out loud....I won't say I'm in..... love."

The End

BONUS:

Believers: *Looking out from the window at the garden and Saeran.*

Believer N°643: Hey he's been sitting there for a while...

Believer N°262: yeah almost about 2 minutes and 32 seconds....

Believers:.....

Believer N°643: d'you recon we should wake him up?

Believer N°262: and immediately get massacred? Nah man, I have a wife, a kid! You wake him up.

Believer N°643: what no dude I don't want to die, I have dreams!

Believer N°262: *whispering but also yelling* YOU'RE IN A CULT YOU'RE NOT SUPPODED TO HAVE DREAMS WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!?

Believer N°643: THEY'RE IMPORTANT

Believer N°262: WHAT'S MORE IMPORTANT THAN THIS WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT!?

Believer N°643:....... *Looks at the camera*

Believer N°262:.....

Believer N°643: Iwsnsssnsnsns

Believer N°262: what?

Believer N° 643: I...I want to start a band! It's...it's a work in progress but Carol and Jimmy have already agreed. It's going to be...it'll be cult based... probably.

Believer N°262: you....YOU STARTED A BAND AND DIDNT TELL ME!?

Believer N°643: IM SORRY

Believer N°262: I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS! WHAT ELSE ARE YOU KEEPING FFOM ME!?

Believer N°643: THE CHILD ISNT YOURS IM SORRY

Believer N°262: THAT- YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO ACTUALLY ANSWE- wait... Bartholomew the Second isn't mine...?

Believer N°643: *slowly shakes his head* ...no

Believer N°262:....dude.

Believer N°643: IT WAS A SATURDAY NIGHT AND YOU KNOW WHAT THE SAVIOUR DOES ON SATURDAY'S, WE HAD WAY YOO MUCH ELIXIR. ALSO IM YOUR FATHER.

Believer N°262: what THE FU-

Announcer: Join us next week in The Cult, it's like The Office but it's actually a cult, made my someone who has been writing for about an hour non-stop and it's actually 1AM in her time zone so she's clearly already loosing her mind, GOOD NIGHT FOLKS

*audience applause*

*The Office theme but cult version starts playing as the credits roll, THE END*

(I'm sorry I don't know what the fuck this is but my fingers just started typing it on their own I'm sorry pffff