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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter One

Summary: You live in Bogotá in the ‘90s, and work odd hours. No, you’re not a DEA agent, but a nurse. These odd hours prompt odd habits, like working out at 2:03 A.M. after a shift. Odd hours attract odd people, and you have a chance encounter with one DEA agent by the name of Javier Peña. Warnings: language, blood and violence (both graphic), descriptions of death and gun violence Chapter 1 W/C: 2.3K A/N: you guys! I am so in love with this fic. I already have quite a bit more written and can’t wait for you to read it! I hope you love it as much as I do! Javi deserves some softness... but not too much. this can’t all be fluff when you’re Javier Peña. Okay, this is not super canon-fitting of Narcos, I’m just gonna be honest with y’all. This is between the time of Escobar’s escape from La Catedral and his final capture and death, but also… Connie’s still in Colombia. Additionally, I don’t really have a year in mind, it’s just somewhere in that period. Please note that this is not a very lighthearted story- it begins with a death, though not of a significant character. Javier and reader both have some trauma, so please check the warnings of each chapter before you start reading. If you’re continuing on, I hope you like it! For the most part, if I use italics here when someone is speaking, it’s indicating that it’s in Spanish. I’m okay at the language, but I don’t want to butcher anything, so… just imagine it. Otherwise, it’s just the way anyone would use italics I guess.

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Chapter One

You watched a woman you didn’t know die in your arms tonight.

She was beautiful, all dressed up to go out and party, her makeup running down her face with tears. Her lips were the painted the color of the blood that trickled from the side of them, eyes glazing over as she coughed and coughed and ruined the beautiful dress she wore. The nurses had asked what happened, and she had told them, through gurgles of blood: she had slept with one of Escobar’s men. She got too close, learned too much, and they tracked her down.

She flatlined not long after telling the nurses around you. You had stood in the corner, paralyzed at first. You were an experienced ER nurse, nothing was new. You had seen patients die, but something about her was different. Maybe it was the way she reached out to you right before her body went limp. You didn’t make it to her bedside in time to calm her, the panic holding you down, but you finally took her hand right as she took her last breath.

After she passed, you threw up in the bathroom, shaking and clutching the toilet. The night air had grown unbearably hot and humid, causing your scrubs to cling to your skin, and the sweat from the heaving of your stomach didn’t make things easier on you. Lorena, a fellow nurse and your best friend at work, had found you and comforted you, rubbing your back and bringing you water. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t reverse what had happened.

Now, you sit on a bench in the staff’s locker room, redoing the ponytail holding your hair from your damp face. Your shift ended a few minutes ago, but you don’t know what to do now. You don’t feel like drinking; that would only make the visions swimming in your head worse. You know you can’t go home, can’t attempt to find sleep tonight. You look up and spot a bag with tennis shoes and spare clothing and settle your mind on at least one thing: the gym could do you some good. You change into the clothes and put the blood-spattered scrubs in the laundry pile.

As you leave, you give Lorena a little wave goodbye and exit the building. You’re hyper-aware of your surroundings tonight, and you groan as you look at your watch and notice that it’s precisely 2:09 A.M. here in Bogotá. The walk to your fitness club is short, but your step is slightly extra hurried and your hand is on your pepper spray the entire time, extra vigilant to the fact that a hit went down somewhere around here just a few hours earlier. Surprisingly enough, no one catcalls or bugs you tonight.

The little gym is run-down and dilapidated, and there’s no working air conditioning, but it’s the only one near you. You paid the small monthly membership fee to gain access, and you were going to use it to get in shape, you’d decided. As you swipe in and enter, the tiny fitness center looks more depressing in the fluorescent lights, no daylight to sugarcoat the atrocities of the center. There are two of every machine, a punching bag and a speed bag, two weightlifting racks, and a couple of benches.

It’s nice that you get to work out alone tonight, you tell yourself. Even better is the fact that you now get to control the music. Desperate for a taste of home, you flip the large boombox in the corner on and begin scanning the airwaves with the dial. There’s a station in town that plays American music, and you need it more than anything tonight. You listen carefully and nearly start sobbing again as you hear Billy Joel’s voice through the speakers. With a sigh of relief, you lock your bag in the rusty lockers in the corner and head to the treadmill. It’s a beat up old thing, but this is the one you always use. It provides a little bit of comfort tonight, the familiarity of it. You turn it on low and start walking. A few moments later, you up it to a jog, mouthing along to the words of the familiar song.

As the song ends, you push the buttons enough to enter a running speed. Your feet slam into the treadmill harder than normal tonight, feeling as overwhelmed as when you left the hospital. Your body finally works up a sweat, the physical stress overwhelming the mental stress.

As the events of tonight replay in your head to some other song from the late 80’s, your eyes start to water. Everything was so overwhelming, and your mind is just starting to process it. You finally allow the tears to fall, mixing with the sweat coating your cheeks. It’s hard to tell which is causing more of the mess, but you let yourself cry it out as you run for the next few minutes.

The next song that comes on is Venus by Bananarama. You almost chuckle at the fact that it’s a few years old by now, but the song is comforting. It reminds you of home, of a time before you had issues like these. You slow down the treadmill a little, singing to the words aloud once you catch your breath enough. Daring to do a little spin on the rolling surface, you groove along to the music, chuckling a little

After the first chorus, you hear a creaking noise and whip around to find a man standing in the doorway. “Jesus fucking Christ!” You shout before you can stop yourself, hopping off the treadmill and onto the non-moving one before you get flung off. Your heart is pounding from the running, only intensifying the adrenaline rush from the scare.

The man chuckles a little, but the smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s tired- of course he is, it’s now 2:30 in the morning. “Lo siento,” you offer in Spanish, cringing at yourself and your reaction just now. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here this late,” you stutter, still panting from the running. He shakes his head lightly. “You’re American,” he says simply. In English, in a beautifully American accented voice.

Your sweaty brow furrows, a glimmer of hope sparking inside your chest as you notice that he speaks like an American himself. “So are you.”

He nods at that. “That I am,” he says as he puts his things in a locker, snapping it shut behind him. He looks at you for a moment. You’re not working at the Embassy, or he’d know you. It was rare to find an American down here that wasn’t working for the government somehow. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, looking at how tired he appears in the big mirrored wall. He’s curious, but he’s exhausted.

You look at him for a moment. “You going to explain anything, like, tell me about yourself? Or do I have to go first?” You ask, hands on your waist as you hop back on the slowly moving treadmill, back into moving. He doesn’t respond. “Fine. I know you’re government. I’m not an idiot.”

He chuckles and tugs on his t-shirt, moving to the treadmill next to you and getting on. It’s been ages since you’ve held a conversation in English, and you missed this, missed how easily your first language flows from your mouth. “And you’re not.”

“Correct,” you nod, turning up the speed a little on the machine until you’re at a light jog. “My bigger concern was going to be why you’re here at 2-fucking-30, but I’m guessing I know the answer. You get called in around here for the hit?” He nods, starting the treadmill up and walking on it.

“You don’t have to be so guarded, Jesus. I fucking hate Escobar, I’m on your side,” you scoff before turning up the machine until you’re running once more.

Javier shrugs. “Makes sense. How did you know-”

“She died,” you say quickly and firmly, keeping your eyes straight ahead and looking at the room around you. “Add that to your file.”

He nods, understanding a little more now. You knew her somehow. He doesn’t say a word either, cranking up the machine and heading into a jog too.

A few more minutes pass of the two of you silently running next to each other, the American music still playing throughout the gym. It’s a comfort to Javier too. Tonight was shit for the DEA- they had known Escobar’s men would be around here. They had the intel, they had everything ready, but the men somehow had escaped and left a victim in their wake.

The frustration of everything, of the man being something close to home for you yet being a brick wall, threatens your eyes with welling tears again. “I just wanted to talk with an American,” you sigh and cross your arms, moving back into the walking stage of a treadmill.

The man next to you gives a similar sigh, stopping his treadmill completely and offering you a hand. “Javier Peña.” You take it reluctantly, feeling the sweat of both of your hands mix, and tell him your name before retracting it and stopping the treadmill too. “So, what brings you to the gym at 2:30?” He asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the center part of the treadmill.

“I’m a nurse. I work the graveyard shift. Bad night, a patient died because she got fucking shot for having a boyfriend and not knowing he was a narco, I need to get something out, I come here,” you shrug, unconsciously mimicking him by folding your arms as well.

He nods at that. “I’m here for the same. Shitty stakeout, I’m pissed off, I come here.” He leaves out the part about his favorite call girl being taken, and how he needed another way to get the rage inside of him out. He walks off of the treadmill and to the weight rack, pulling a bench beneath the bar.

You turn again and turn the machine back on, slowly jogging. “I see. Odd hours to be here, that’s why I asked,” you say simply. “And to see another American at such a time. I haven’t interacted with one since I came here.”

Javier nods, adjusting the weights on the bar. “Yeah. Weird,” he nods. “And that you’re an American who isn’t working for the government and you’re down here. What, you got a husband who works for us?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard for a moment. “No, don’t have a husband in the first place,” you admit, adjusting the ponytail holding your hair up. “It’s a long story.”

“We got time,” he shrugs as he gets on the bench beneath the rack, looking at you in the mirrored wall. Even with the sweat and the stress of working out, he notices that you’re gorgeous. You have a nice body, and even your face is pretty while you’re working out.

You shake your head. “Fine, if you really want to hear it.”

“Might as well. It’s that or more of this fucking Wham! music, and I’m sick of George Michael.”

“First of all, first person here gets the music, so mind your manners.” This finally earns a chuckle from the man, and you want to smile but it just can’t come. “I came down here with a man. He’s a citizen here. We were going to get married, but he left me. That was a couple of months ago now,” you admit, the tears beading in the corner of your eye again. “My work visa was still valid, and I renewed it so I can keep working at the hospital. I don’t really have anyone down here except the girls I work with, but I like helping out. They need me.” He nods a little as he listens, breaking his focus as he starts his reps with the bar.

“And you’re government, so that explains everything I need to know about you,” you continue to babble. “One of the girls I work with has a husband who’s at the Embassy. Murphy,” you say offhandedly.

Javier’s attention is caught, and he sets the bar on the rack. “Murphy?” He asks, and you turn your head to look at him and give him a nod. “No shit. That’s my partner.”

You chuckle slightly and look back at him, stopping the treadmill. “So you know Connie?”

Javi nods. “Yeah, great gal. She could do better than Steve,” he says, sitting up.

You laugh softly at that. “From what I’ve heard of him, I agree. She’s a really great girl, you’re right,” you nod in agreement, looking back at him. “She’s never mentioned you. She says her husband’s in janitorial, but we all know that’s not true. What, you guys CIA? DEA?”

Javier nods again. “DEA.”

“I see,” you say, folding your arms and leaning against the machine. “Can’t make you many friends around here. I learned pretty quickly to keep my mouth shut about being a gringa. They can usually tell though.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles and cracks his back.

You bite your lip as you look at him, your voice watery when you can finally speak again, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion again. “It’s nice to talk to someone in English again,” you admit with a forced smile.

He can read your eyes easily. You’re a nurse, and you told him that the victim died. You saw it. “It is,” he nods, reading your pain and trying to show you he empathizes with it. Your eyes are beautiful, he notices as he looks into them. So much more hope and trust than anyone else he works with, but the pain in them is unbearable. He looks away, leaning back on the bench to lift again.

“So where you from in the States?” You finally ask when the silence is too long.

“Laredo, Texas,” he chuckles. “Yourself?”

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña #javi peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pascalpanic #narcos #narcos fanfic #blood sweat and tears

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livingouttheworsttimeline · 4 years ago

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Why am I so tired all the time?

4:30 am: youngest child wakes up after wetting the bed. change child, change bedsheets, replace drinks, turn night time music back on, convince youngest child that it is in fact still night time. Climb back into bed a 4:55.

5:00 am: eldest child comes to tell me that youngest child wants to play. I am aware, because I have heard her loudly declaring such since I left their room. Tell oldest child to go back to bed. Pray that, somehow, for the very first time, they will put themselves back to sleep.

5:05 am: give up on hopeless prayers. Get up and take both children to the living room. Change the youngest into underwear. Log into tablets and override the “do not turn on until 6 am” setting. Wait for coffee to finish brewing.

5:23 am: extract self from underneath 2 children and a dog to pour first cup of coffee. It’s half caff, because spouse has a heart condition. Remind self that I can have several cups with impunity.

5:45 am: Eldest child is unhappy with the pre-made breakfast provided for him the night before. When asked what he would like to eat, he responds, “bacon, chinese food, or pizza.” Explain, again, that we need a variety of foods for our bodies to grow strong. Spend 15 minutes convincing him to eat $5 worth of blackberries as a compromise.

6:12 am: Finish 2nd cup of coffee, realize that eldest child’s night time pull up is overflowing with poop. Usher him to the bathroom for a bath. Feel humbled when I realize that I spent 10 years in grad school, and yet I am still reduced to wiping shit off another person. Calmly remind eldest child that he is capable of using the potty, and that I have confidence in him.

6:30 am: Spouse awakes, complains that he slept poorly. Roll eyes and go back to drinking 3rd cup of coffee, in between being elbowed in the stomach and explaining that no, I do not know how to work the video game you just downloaded 15 seconds ago. Remind self that I am their physical and mental safe place, which is worth the literal bruises and mental stress.

6:45 am: extract self from pile of children and dog by physically lifting each dependent off my lap. Verify that spouse is up for supervision duties, collect running clothes, and start treadmill.

6:47 am: stop treadmill because youngest child has entered the room and decided that I will not run today because it’s not fair. Remind self that arguing fairness with a 3 year old is the definition of futility. Gently remind her that I love her, she is a big girl, and she can play independently while I run.

6:49 am: start treadmill again. Nagging calf pain seems to be back. Scale back workout, remind self that value of the run is not the distance. Do extra core workout to compensate.

7:30 am: shower. Mediate 2 sibling fights from shower. Fortunately, children are camped out in the bathroom with me, so I don’t have to leave a trail of water through the house to interact.

7:35 am: Marvel at the thought that spouse takes a 45 min shower. EVERY DAY. Note gratitude that I am working from home, and no longer have to style hair and makeup.

7:36 am: Refill kid drink cups for the 3rd time today. Spend 30 minutes convincing, cajoling, and bribing kids to put on clean underwear. We no longer try for clothes.

8:06 am: turn on work computer. Respond to a weekend full of emails. Handle 5 pressing tasks for side hustle, reasoning that if I get them out of the way, I can push the rest of that to do list to after working hours.

8:45 am: Answer persistent pounding on locked office door. refill drinks and provide snack. Reassure youngest child that mommy is still here, but she needs to work.

9:03 am: debate whether going to the bathroom is worth leaving the office and the begging that ensues. Make wrong choice either way.

9:15 am: morning meetings get shuffled later, because childless coworkers “are running late this morning.” Marvel at the concept of 9:15 am being early.

9:30 am: solid wall of meetings until noon. Update team on status at end of last week, despite not remembering what you just ate for breakfast. Realize that you haven’t eaten breakfast. Run training and introduction for new team member. You are the only woman on the team, so you get do the training because “you’re so good at explaining things.”

12:00 pm: Call youngest child’s preschool, make sure you can bring by her supplies and still adhere to Covid protocols. Preschool is also side hustle, so cram a parent and employee meeting into a single hour. Explain that new registration system will, in fact, be more efficient than old paper system. Remind preschool staff that we committed to going paperless. Make small talk with preschool teachers until the hour is up. Hop in the car and speed home.

1:00 pm: children adhere to my side the second I walk in the door. Spouse is in the shower. Children have eaten approximately 3 bites of their pb&j sandwiches, and demand different lunch. Remember that you have not eaten lunch yet. Refill drinks for 4th time, provide reasonable lunch alternatives.

1:25 pm: Remember that you scheduled a meeting for 1:30, and. you need to be present. Calculate that extraction from children is not possible in 5 minutes, and take meeting with youngest child on lap. Despite having weaned 1.5 years ago, youngest child decides that you’re still nursing, and pulls down top on video call. Spend most of call switching on and off mute. Catch every 3rd word.

1:45 pm: apologize to team, promise to reschedule a follow up with more focus. Hang up, extract youngest child’s arm from shirt. Refill drinks for the 5th time. Bribe children to get in bed for a nap with the promise of a visit to nana and pop this afternoon.

1:48 pm: children’s beds have been stripped, due to accidents last night, but spouse “doesn’t know where the clean sheets are”, and so hasn’t remade beds. Children petition to nap on the floor. Explain floor is not comfortable. Find clean sheets, make 2 beds, take everyone to the potty, tuck both children in.

2:20 pm: Realize that you have 40 minutes of actual work time left today, outside of meetings. Try to prioritize, with the knowledge that whatever you get done will not be enough. Deny request for drink refill.

3:00 pm: kick off afternoon meeting block. Try frantically to make the 40 minutes that you did get to work sound like a whole lot more. Wake children up during bathroom break so that they’ll be able to sleep tonight. Refill drinks for 5th time.

3:45 pm: Curse the fact that youngest child has inherited your distaste for waking up. Gently coax her awake in between meetings.

4:00 pm: Wrap up last task from meetings, make list of all new tasks. Realize that today you have checked off one task, and received 7 new ones. Promise self that you’ll get your work laptop back out after the kids are in bed. Ignore the sense of despair that threatens to overtake you.

4:20 pm: Bribe children into putting on clothes with promise of fruit snacks at grandparent’s house. Feel mildly guilty as you put on your second round of workout gear. Load children in double jogging stroller, jog to grandparent’s house.

5:00 pm: collect children to head home for dinner.

5:10 pm: threaten no more fruit snacks if children don’t put on their shoes. Grandparents go get them more fruit snacks.

5:23 pm: explain that the sun is going down in 24 minutes, and that we have to leave now to get home before it gets dark. Remember that time is immaterial. Wish for that blissful sense of ignorance.

5:37 pm: push 100 lbs of toddler and stroller up giant, hilly driveway. Spouse greets us with “what’s for dinner?” Politely remind him that he promised to plan and make dinner while we were gone. Grit teeth at his “I didn’t know what to make” response. Quickly run through available, easy, acceptable options and make dinner.

6:15 pm: serve dinner. Eat own dinner in 2.5 minutes, then spend rest of meal refilling drinks and plates, heating up or cooling down, and cajoling children to eat anything at all.

6:45 pm: Announce that tonight we don’t need to take a bath. Youngest child immediately melts down, because she wanted to take a bath. Eldest child melts down because, even thought he didn’t want to take a bath, he wanted to taunt his sister while she was in the bath.

6:53 pm: Loose temper for 1st time today, scream that children need to brush their teeth. Step away to calm down. Spouse gets upset because “You can’t handle the children without yelling.” Bite tongue all the way through to avoid snarky reply.

7:10 pm: read 2 story books. Read one more. Explain again, that mommy cannot read anymore, and daddy will come read for a little while. Extract self from pile of children, and tuck both in. Hugs, kisses, and fist bumps. Twice. Then once more, after you’ve left the room.

7:15 pm: contemplate second shower. Decide that you didn’t really get that sweaty on the walk, and it’s not like you’re going out. Collapse on sofa with phone and mindless tv.

7:25 pm: spouse comes into the living room after harrowing duty of reading for 10 minutes. Hand over the remote, pull out side hustle lap top and finalize tasks for the day.

8:30 pm: remember that you promised to do main job work. Bring out that laptop to run some code while you continue side hustle work.

9:15 pm: Finish side hustle work, give up on main job work for the evening. Mentally apologize to team for not making more progress, promise to self that you’ll be more focused tomorrow.

9:30 pm: tell spouse that you need to go to bed. Endure his eye roll and disappointed face. Apologize for needing to go to sleep so early, and reassure him that you’re doing the best you can.

10:15 pm: eldest child has night terror. Comfort eldest child until he’s calm. Comfort youngest child, who is upset at brother’s screams. Realize that spouse is still watching tv in the living room while you comfort children.

11:00 pm: listen to youngest child cry for 10 minutes until spouse begrudgingly tends to her. Remind self that it is not solely my job to comfort our children. Try to go back to sleep.

3 am: eldest child wakes up with question about mushrooms that is vitally important. Answer to best of middle-of-the-night ability, acknowledge that you appreciate his curiosity, but that there are times when questions are not appropriate. Get him back to sleep.

4:30 am: youngest child wakes up.

#working mom #why am i so tired

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asphora · 4 years ago

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02. Rose-tinted | hvc

a non-sequential accounting of pivotal moments in yours and Hansol’s relationship. Love is a wonderful thing, but for all it’s tenderness, you learn that it doesn’t come without it’s struggles. But this is worth it; Hansol is worth it, right?

wc: 10385 | fluff, angst, f!reader, modified idol!verse, cursing, slight allusions to smut, series, cliff hanger, best friends to lovers

soulmate(ish) au

a/n: part 2 in my Technicolor series woohoo! Again, I know it’s hella fuckin long, even longer than the last ones, but I just had to huhu I hope you guys like it! Lemme know what you think or not, it’s all good kthanksbyyeeeee

01 . 02 . 03 . 04

It’s late, and you and Hansol are in bed at his apartment. He is on his side of the bed that you’ve now grown accustomed to sharing; he is already lying down, head on his pillow as he quietly tinkers with his phone. You are on your side, slightly higher up that him with your back against the headboard and a book in hand, quietly letting the words on the page lull you to sleep, when for some inexplicable reason, his silver hair catches your attention. It’s messy and longer now, sticking up in strange places and revealing the black of his roots that have already started to show as they grew out.

Your eyes trail down to his that are oblivious and trained onto a game on his phone, his lashes so long they’re practically brushing the soft skin of his cheeks. His lips are a soft shade of pink, slightly parted, a biproduct of Hansol’s laser focus. Your eyes trace the line of his jaw – sharp but delicate all the same – that would often clench in frustration and relax into softer smiles when he saw you, the habitual action of the muscle there allowing you to read his moods without so much as a word. He swallows and his Adam’s apple bobs slightly, and you almost physically feel yourself salivate at the involuntary motion. Stopping your racing thoughts, your eyes trail the skin of his neck down to the chain that hung around his neck. Hansol wasn’t a vain man, only wearing things with meaning and letting his fashion simply be whatever he wanted it to be. Even now, when he had color you weren’t surprised by the strange combinations he’d choose, often matching clothes as if he didn’t have the sight.

You watch the simple chain reflect the light, kissing the delicate angles of the dips in his collar bone. Hands longing to feel his skin, you contemplate doing the same, but quickly brush the thought off; it wasn’t the time for that right now. Your eyes wander lower to the soft skin revealed by undone buttons of sleeping shirt, and your hands twitch longing to touch milky and supple skin there. That’s when he notices you, eyes boring into his chest so intently that he could practically feel your stare. Locking his phone and discarding it onto the bed slowly, so as not to break your focus, he watches you, a gummy smile forming the more he watches how absolutely enchanted you are by him.

“Like what you see?” He teases, his tone completely derailing your train of thought and bringing it to an embarrassing halt.

You laugh, wanting to fire back a witty quip. Deciding against it, you feel yourself melt at the sight of his smile which you returned with a soft sigh. The sound makes him stop a little. Usually, you would have rebuked him easily. Instead, you were just silently smiling at him.

"Are you okay, babe?" His hands move to wrap around your waist and in one fell swoop, the two of you rearrange yourselves with such ease, like puzzle pieces fitting each other's hold. With his head now resting on your bicep, the rest of your arm wraps around his shoulder. Cradling him like this, you found the position equally adorable and amusing as he hugged himself to you like a child holding themselves close to their mother.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Sol.” You reassure him, your fingers playing with his hair and softly combing the growing tresses away from his face to the back of his ear.

His eyes flutter closed at the contact, melting into the calming touch of your hand. He hums in appreciation as you gently rub his scalp with the pads of your fingers. With closed eyes, he reaches across you for your free hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

"What's on your mind?" He coos your name with his eyes still closed.

“Hmmm, nothing much,” you watch him appreciatively, pleased to be getting an even closer view, “just you.”

“What about me? Can’t believe how you ended up with such a catch?”

"Hmph, barely," you chuckle, and he does too, "I was just looking at you and thinking about you. There's nothing really going on in my head."

He hums in acknowledgment, nodding slightly and slowly before replying with a knowing, "I love you, too."

Him being able to read you like an open book, even with his eyes closed, makes you smile, thinking about just how lucky you are to have him. “For as long as I can.” You add to his statement, knowing full well that he understands what you mean.

“What do you think death looks like, Sol?” He opens his eyes to look up at you and meet your gaze.

“Hmmm,” He ponders for a moment, animatedly furrowing his brows, “maybe like a dream, and when we wake up, we’re someone new? Like, us, but different.”

“So basically, like a reincarnation?” You tease his lack of eloquence with a slight giggle.

He flashes you an appreciative gummy smile, “took the words right outta my mouth, baby. This is why you’re the brains and I’m the charm.”

“You mean brawns?”

“Nope, you’re the brains and I’m the charm,” he reiterates. “You and I both know I got guns for days, but that my best quality is my charming personality.”

You roll your eyes in amusement, “oh yes, so charming.”

“Why the sudden question?” His tone isn’t pushy, just actually curious as he goes back to closing his eyes to revel in your touch.

“No reason, just something off the top of my head.” You explain nonchalantly, “Do you think we’ve met before, in other lives I mean? Since you believe in reincarnation.”

“Definitely. A hundred percent, yes.” He replies, without even a second to spare for thought.

“Maybe I was the handsome pilot and you were the mysterious attractive passenger. Our eyes probably met while you were getting off and that was that.” He explains matter-of-factly.

“Ah, and I was on my way home to my husband and family?” You tease, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he continues to recount the various fantasies wherein you two might’ve met.

“Yeah, sure. Or maybe we met at a party, where you were lost and I helped you out, we’d probably talked for a while before parting ways.”

He laughs before continuing, “I’m sure there’s a universe out there, or another life where we have two kids—names can be your pick since you know I’m shit at that—and we live in a simple house, in a quiet town, and those versions of us don’t even know we’re having this conversation right now.”

“That version of you must be really fucking smart for me to have married him.” You play along.

“Nah, he tricked you just like in this lifetime.” He sticks out his tongue at you and you nudge him, laughing.

“I bet there are lifetimes where we don’t even meet.” You muse and he simply hums in agreement.

“Sign me up for that shit ‘cause I don’t even know what I got myself into in this one.” You joke and he laughs loudly, his mouth widening so wide it almost seems exaggerated, but you know him and this is just how he was. He opened his eyes, expression suddenly completely deadpan, chocolate irises staring you down.

“Is there something you wanna tell me about? Like seriously?” His question only makes you laugh along with him when he finally cracks, unable to keep a straight face.

After a few moments of silence, you press your lips to the top of his head, a rare moment of tenderness in your relationship that had barely changed since becoming official almost a year ago.

“I’m glad I met you in this one,” you whisper into his hair.

"Me too," he drawls out softly and you can tell by the sound that he's already half asleep. You shut the bedside lamp and lower yourself and your head to your pillow, nestling in his warmth.

As you drift to sleep, you hear him murmur in his sleep, “I love you, you fuckin’ loser.”

Half-asleep, you reply, “I love you too, Hansol.”

* * *

The tiny café bar is a completely different scene than you remember; where there used to be tables spread out evenly throughout the main space in front of the stage, they were now pushed to the sides of the room to accommodate the throngs of people coming in to watch tonight’s performance.

You’re 15 minutes early. Even though Hansol had told you it would be fine to come at exactly seven when the show would start since his set wasn’t until around 7:30, you knew better than to come on time and end up stuck in line.

Sat along the bar at the far back of the room, you sip on your martini as you watch people slowly trickle into the tiny venue, when a flash of familiar silver hair peaks out one of the doors near the stage. He looks around the room, his eyes landing immediately on you, able to find you immediately despite the growing crowd.

You had never seen Hansol like this before.

His hair which he rarely ever bothered styling let alone comb, was now perfectly set, parted on one side, his bangs resting naturally on the rest of his face, a sliver of his forehead peeking through. His face was fully made up, some smokey make-up lining the outer corners of his eyes, making his chocolate irises pop even more. You feel your jaw slightly unhinge, your lips parting as you drink in the sight of him; Hansol had always been beautiful to you, but somehow in the dim yellow lighting of the bar, his make-up catching the light perfectly, it made him look deliciously otherworldly and even dangerous. Suddenly you felt like prey under his piercing gaze.

The corners of his mouth shift into a soft smirk in recognition. Right away, he can tell the magnified effect he has on you from the way you stare him down as though he is an oasis in the desert, and before you can even compose yourself enough to get up to go to him, he's already taking long purposeful strides over to where you're seated. It knocks the breath out of your lungs.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He says cheekily, one arm leaning onto counter, while the other reaches for the back of your seat, efficiently cornering you – not that you had any real qualms about it – taking advantage of your initial shock.

Hearing his words, you immediately recognize the dork that is none other than your precious Hansol underneath his contrasting outer appearance. You giggle at the little charade he’s pulling and return his playful smile, quickly regaining your composure.

“I don’t know,” you pretend to ponder his offer, “I’m waiting for my boyfriend. He’s one of tonight’s performers and I don’t think he’d appreciate it.”

“Oh,” his eyes widen in mock surprise, his mouth exaggeratedly forming the syllable, “you have a boyfriend? Well, he’s a really lucky guy then.”

He eyes you up and down, pretending to hit on you, but genuinely appreciating the way the off-shoulder sweetheart neckline of your black dress compliments you, never having seen you in that particular dress before. It wasn't every day that he got to see you all dolled up, especially when it was just for him and his performance, and even more when you looked so good he could ravish you right then and there.

“Well, I’m a really lucky girl to have him.” You smirk, shrugging a bare shoulder at him and you see the way his eyes follow the exposed skin intently, his mouth practically watering at the sight.

“Nah baby,” he drops the act, placing gentle hands on the skin of your neck and moving towards you for a kiss.

“I’m the one who’s lucky.” He murmurs the words against your lips in between kisses and it makes you smile against his.

Unwillingly, you pull away, not wanting to ruin his make-up with your kisses. You shift backward on your seat to look at him, noticing a tiny smudge in the lipstick of his lower lip. You tell him not to move as you carefully take his face between your hands and press your thumb to the smudge.

What should be a rather simple task for such a small amount of excess lipstick, proves to be difficult as Hansol refuses to stand still, insistently trying to catch your thumb either in between his teeth or in soft butterfly kisses. It’s only when there’s a cough that comes from your side and Hansol looks slightly up, distracted by the arrival, that you finally manage to erase any trace of the color.

“Still very much in love and mushy, I see.” You immediately recognize the voice to be Mingyu and you look up at him to see all 12 boys dressed nicer than usual, happily greeting both you and Hansol.

When it's time for Hansol to go back and prepare for his set, he sweetly kisses your temple. He pats the shoulders of both Mingyu and Minghao who are seated closest to you on the bar, motioning to you, as he says, "take care of my girl." Then gives you an enthusiastic wink before heading off in the same direction his producer disappears.

When it’s Hansol’s turn, the night is still fairly young. So, while the crowd is pumped and excited for the rest of the show, they are a mass of chattering bodies, only half paying attention. Once he starts though, his perfect English starting his rap and the unique treble of his voice piercing through the room, he quickly has everyone's attention.

It was the first time you’d ever seen him perform, let alone heard him rap in a proper performance setting. It would have been a gross understatement to say that he was utterly enthralling; gone was the dorky, adorable boy you knew, replaced on stage by confidence and swagger that seemed magnified by the exhilaration on stage, his presence washing over the room like a tidal wave. He was everything you knew and loved about Hansol, but somehow different, greater, and larger than life. On stage, he was someone that shone too brightly and authentically for this world. You had no words as you watched him, pride bubbling up in your chest and spilling out of your eyes in the form of tears. Just like you, everyone in the crowded bar is entranced by the words that flowed effortlessly from him, never missing a beat, and seemingly never running out of breath or losing energy.

“Aw, don’t cry, y/n.” Minghao soothes, patting your head kindly. If you hadn’t already been so close with everyone, you might’ve been embarrassed to be caught getting emotional, but these boys have seen you and Hansol through everything. He flashes you a sweet and understanding smile and you chuckle under your breath as you expertly dab the moisture out of your eyes.

In typical Hansol-fashion, there are multiple curse words littered throughout his rap, but it only serves to stimulate the crowd further. Even more so when he starts jumping, banging his head to the upbeat riff of the music. In the crowd, you can see people jumping and dancing along with him, and you're so proud that you almost want to join them, his energy and confidence undeniably contagious.

Down to the last verse of his song, he keeps his energy high. He’s a sweaty mess, his make-up trickling down his face, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His smirk is still just as captivating as ever, drawing the audience in, and his bravado unparalleled and unreachable. At this point, you’re full of emotion, but well past crying. Instead, you’re jiving effortlessly to the music, savoring the way the sounds of the music and his voice were making you feel.

Then you see it; his eyes locked onto you as if calling you out, mesmerizing you completely with just one look. Knowing perfectly well that he's gotten your attention, he gives you a subtle wink, keeping his gaze focused on you as he gets out the last chorus. Like a secret message that travels past the unknowing crowd and straight to your chest, his look is one you recognize right away: I love you.

Suddenly, the color in the room feels more vibrant despite the dim lighting; the beat is thrumming louder in your ears, and his voice singing above the music seems to overtake your senses until there's nothing and no one else but him. Watching him do what he was born to, you had never been prouder and more enamored with him than at that moment. Holding his gaze, you stand from your seat, pressing a kiss to your palm, tossing it enthusiastically at him.

The gesture surprises him, his eyes widening, and before he can even register his actions, his arm flashes out and reaches up to quickly catch your kiss as if it was a palpable object flying towards him. For a moment, his mask slips, and the charismatic and mysterious stage persona, Vernon, falls away. His cool expression melts and he breaks out into a beaming smile, eyes flooding with affection and softening into crescent moons, revealing the beloved bright puppy-dog of a boy that belonged to only you, Hansol.

Never in your life had you ever seen him glow the way he was now.

When he rejoins the rest of the group, the boys are the first to welcome him back, congratulating him loudly with hugs and high-fives. He moves over to you, standing next to you at the bar and resuming his spot from earlier, leaning over you. This time though, he’s sweaty and out of breath. His silk dress-shirt clings to his skin with sweat dripping down his face, but you don’t care. You wrap your arms around him eagerly, pulling him close.

“Baby, I’m sweaty, you’ll ruin your dress.” He chuckles, whining in protest, but his body betrays him, melting into your touch and wrapping his arms at your waist.

“I don’t care.” You kiss his damp, make-up stained cheek. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

"Bet your boyfriend couldn't do what I just did." He says teasingly, wriggling his eyebrows and recalling the joke from earlier.

You tilt your head back in laughter, moving your hands to his face. You push away the silver strands of hair sticking to his damp skin, no longer worried about ruining his make-up. You move closer, your breath at the shell of his ear giving him goosebumps. You whisper, "Sorry to break it to you, stupid, but you are my boyfriend.”

Those words alone are enough to have him erupting in booming laughter and you watch his face light up as he clutches his stomach, trying to calm himself down. As hot Vernon was, and as amazing as his presence was, you much preferred this scene in front of you; the beautiful, expressive, genuine, and all too familiar laughter of Hansol.

“Okay, that’s enough, love-birds!” Jeonghan hollers, effectively popping the bubble of your tender moment. The older male wraps his arms around both of your shoulders, sitting Hansol down in between you and him, and handing you each a shot.

"A toast,” Jeonghan calls out, raising a shot glass and everyone joining in the toast, raising their own, "to Vernon's first-ever album, and him finally losing his virginity!"

All the other boys shout and cheer boisterously, clinking their glasses together, sloshing the transparent liquid around, before downing their drinks.

"Congratulations on not being a virgin anymore, babe!" You follow suit after clinking your shot glass with theirs and Hansol's. Once the burning liquid goes down completely, you cheer loudly along with the others, kissing your boyfriend's now rosy cheeks.

“Fuck you, y/n.” He laughs despite his humiliation.

“You did, baby, that’s why we’re celebrating!” You rebuke, and if he hadn’t already been utterly mortified, he was now. The redness in his cheeks spread to the tips of his ears and his shot glass, still full of liquor, remained raised mid-way, seemingly forgotten in all the chaos that was his friends and girlfriend ganging-up on him.

* * *

"You said you would call two hours ago?" The words are phrased like a question, but the drop in your voice makes it clear to Hansol – if your downcast eyes and saddened expression hadn't been indication enough – that this time you’re not interested in the answer.

He watches you on the screen of his phone as you bite down on your lower lip and gnaw on the sensitive skin there, inhaling deeply as you wait for what he has to say for himself. He can tell easily that you’re trying desperately to stop the angry tears that are threatening to spill and at that moment, he wishes more than anything that he was beside to you press his thumb to your lips to remind you to stop biting. It makes his heart drop into his stomach, making the contents of lunch do somersaults, threatening to spill out in the form of vomit.

You knew there was no point in fighting or arguing, especially when he was miles away and busy with his tour and all his shows. But you couldn’t help being disappointed. You were constantly waiting for him, rearranging your sleep and work schedules for even just a glimpse of him, while it seemed like he was perfectly fine away from you. While the emptiness in your shared apartment only magnified and reminded you of the distance between you, it seemed the new people and places he was meeting and experiencing filled it for him.

"I'm so sorry, y/n." He tells you almost immediately, his voice is soft and audibly exhausted. After almost two years together, and nearly four being your best friend, Hansol knew better than anyone else what you needed the most right now. More than his excuses or justifications, even if he had a good reason, all you wanted was to know that he was sorry.

You can tell by the way he fidgets on the screen, his eyes quickly darting to the ground then back up at you, that it’s taking everything in him to keep from looking away in shame. You’re thankful for the effort as he tries his best to meet your eyes, his apology pouring out slowly and sincerely from his lips.

It had been more than a week since the two of you had last spoken or even seen each other over facetime. Yes, there were messages here and there. Replies and updates sent with distracted, disconnect and seemingly rushed fingers; good mornings and good nights spread out between all the wrong hours of each other’s days thanks to the time difference; pictures of random things that though beautiful, (like buildings, sunsets, concert halls where he’d perform and pictures of Hansol smiling and enjoying in groups and crowds of people you didn’t even know) felt like empty fillers for absent conversation, and only served as reminders of just how tangible the distance was becoming between the two of you. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you��d manage to exchange ‘I love you’ messages, but even those felt hollow without his voice to make them more than just a cluster of letters pieced together on a screen.

It wasn't just the time difference though. With all the work you were both doing, you with your manuscripts, and meetings; him with his tour, appearances, and the constant need to network at parties, a common time was just something that seemed to evade you both. Each time the two of you managed to agree on a time, promising to call, your plans ended up consistently ruined by something seemingly more important; extended practices, last-minute shows, last-minute meetings, falling asleep waiting.

Suddenly it felt like the more effort either of you put into trying to catch each other, the more elusive the other became. Like trying to catch a train and arriving at the platform minutes earlier, only to realize you had been waiting on the wrong side. You watch your train stop across you on the opposite platform, so unbearably close, but utterly unreachable.

Only this time, there was no next train coming. More and more it was starting to feel like you had both just been keeping each other waiting for something that wasn't coming.

“I just miss you so much, Sol.” You finally crack. Like a dam that was only one blow away from bursting at the seams, you felt your resolve break. You could no longer pretend that this wasn’t taking as much out of you as it was, and it seemed like all the struggles of this these past months had compounded itself into one single blow wrapped up in the single syllable of his name.

Your voice cracks, a sob choking out of your throat, causing a strangled cry right as you say his name; it was a sound he'd never heard from you before. Like a thunderstorm that wracks your chest, he watches you quiver as you bury your face in your hands. As though it was painful to even think of him, or say his name, let alone look at him at this moment.

It broke him.

He ached to touch you, to wipe the tears from your face and pull you into a hug, to feel your arms around him again and reassure you that this was only a temporary struggle, but he couldn’t. Even as you were right there in front of him, there was nothing he could do to actually reach you, and it had reached the point where words barely meant anything anymore.

“I’m sorry, baby, please…” He doesn’t know what he’s pleading for – maybe for you to stop crying, or not to leave him? Whatever it is, his voice betrays the emotion that is unreadable on his face in the dim lighting of the moving vehicle driving him back to his hotel, and he feels the tears start to well up and seep out of his eyes.

Looking up from your tears, you catch a glimpse of his tears, glimmering slightly in the inconsistent beat of the streetlights as his car passed them. You had never seen Hansol cry before.

“I miss you too,” he says, no longer trying to hide the tremor in his voice, “so, so much. You don’t even know.”

He had been struggling too, you realize. Hansol had never been the type to share his worries. While you'd been caught up missing him, thinking that he was lucky to be the one in a different country filled with wonderful distractions, you hadn't thought that maybe he was hurting too.

“I know it’s hard, but we’ll be okay.” You can hear him sniffle from the other end of the line. As sad as it is, the sound makes you smile, your shoulders softening and the sobs calming down.

“I’ll be home soon, and everything will be okay.” You could hear the conviction despite the shake in his voice, completely sure of every single word he was saying.

"Everything will be okay." You repeat his words to him, hoping they also offer him some form of comfort, and in hushed whispers, the two of you repeat the words to each other, a quiet mantra of reassurance, but also a promise. That the two of you would survive this, and anything else, together.

* * *

Within the first thirty minutes of meeting his family, you’re absolutely, a hundred percent enamored. They step out of the living room to prepare dinner, giving you and Hansol some privacy on the couch. When you're quite sure they're completely out of earshot, you hook your arms around the back of Hansol's neck, pulling him into a hug with the brightest smile he'd ever seen on you.

For the first time in the year he’s been dating you, the roles were reversed. There you were, animatedly giggling and pressing what felt like a million kisses face. In tur,n making him laugh unabashedly, despite his family in the next room. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. Not enough for his liking, but just enough that it would be acceptable in his childhood home and enough to have a better vantage point for catching your fervent kisses.

“Babe,” he laughs, trying his best to keep up with your kisses. Some meeting his lips, while others he completely misses, landing elsewhere – not that he was complaining.

"I love them." You tell him and he can't help but return your beam, flashing you his signature gummy smile with his eyes forming into crescent moons, consumed by his happiness to the point they looked closed.

"I'm glad you do, baby," he says, leaning in for another kiss, this one less frantic than the previous ones. Instead, it's soft but purposeful, determined to relay with this one simple gesture the fluttering of the butterflies in his stomach and the quivering of his heart: I love you.

You return the intimate action with just as much tenderness. He doesn’t say it, but you feel it clear as day, and so you caress his face with your hands, thumbs rubbing soft circles into his cheeks. You reply, your answer hidden in the space where yours and his lips meet: I love you, too.

“They love you too, you know?” He whispers when the two of you pull apart, loosening his grip, but keeping his arm around your waist.

“You think so?”

“Hell, yeah.” He’s so quick to respond that it relaxes your shoulders that you hadn’t known were tense and exhaling a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“What the heck’s not to like?” He fluffs you up, knowing perfectly well how to boost your confidence and comfort you all in one sentence.

You look at him, examining his expression, brows furrowed in such sincere astonishment and outrage as if he couldn't fathom how someone could not like everything about you or even find something to dislike. The exaggeration is so serious that you can't help but laugh, completely forgetting what you were even worried about.

Resting your temple on his shoulder, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers, something you two didn’t usually do, but when you did, it was a quiet intimate gesture. After a few seconds of silence, you pipe up, finally verbalizing the initial thought that had made you so overjoyed in the first place.

“You think your parents would wanna adopt me?”

Hansol looks at you with a raised brow, lips puckered in confusion then laughing at the outrageousness of your request, “What the fuck, even?”

* * *

The two of you are on the couch in Hansol’s apartment – practically yours too at this point if the spare key he’d given you was any indication. But since the both of you were trying to keep it low-key, no one knew just how frequent you’d been sleeping over, let alone just what the two of you had been up to during your rather frequent and lengthy sleepovers.

Hansol is doing his usual lazy Sunday channel surfing, his eyes intently trained on the random shows that flashed on the screen. You, on the other hand, were working on a manuscript that was due at the end of this month, furiously typing away at the laptop conveniently set on your lap while your legs stretched out comfortably across his lap; his hand casually placed on your one of your knees, lovingly rubbing circles into the skin there.

“What’s that fucking word, goddammit.” You curse under your breath, pressing the tip of your thumb to your teeth and biting down on it hard, a bad habit that you’d developed to cope with moments of stress.

Without even batting an eyelash or even ungluing his eyes from the screen, Hansol absentmindedly reaches out, his hand fumbling and missing yours in the first few tries. Third time’s the charm, he manages to finally find the hand you have pressed into your mouth and gently pull it away from your bite.

“Don’t bite, baby, you’ll hurt yourself.” The words slip so lazily from his mouth, that he’s practically mumbling them. If you hadn’t known how he when he got distracted watching TV, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he’d said anything coherent.

The sentiment is so tender, so natural, and automatic to him that it makes your chest tight. You look up from your work to just look at Hansol. Admittedly, you did this far too often than you would ever confess; just watching him. Not because he was beautiful – which he undeniably was – not because you couldn't believe he was real, but you couldn't believe he was truly here with you.

Quietly, you push your laptop off you and onto the couch, careful not to call his attention, not wanting to get caught staring. You watch him; the way his chest peeked out from under the v-neckline of his shirt, its subtle rise and fall, the way his mouth opened and closed unconsciously, how his jaw would clench in reaction to the scenes on the television, and his slim fingers rubbing absentminded patterns onto the skin of your knees and calves.

Despite wanting to admire him for longer, you give in to the greater desire to reach out to him and stroke his hair, gently hooking a loose strand behind his ear and affectionately caressing his cheek. He hums in response and approval, leaning into your touch to face you with a serene expression on his face, the tiniest smile playing on the edges of his lips.

“Tired, baby?”

You shake your head in response, pulling yourself up, shifting so that you were sitting on his lap, straddling him. You put your hands on either side of his neck and he rests his head against the back of the couch to look up at your face which is now slightly higher than his, his smile soft and relaxed but inviting.

"Of you? Never, Sol. I could never." You press your lips to his, your hair falling past your shoulders and creating a curtain around the two of you. He leans up to meet your lips half-way. His hand moves up to your face, brushing your hair away, to caress your cheek. Bringing you closer and deepening the kiss, while his other hand snakes up your thigh to your hip, squeezing you there.

When the two of you pull apart some few seconds later, Hansol's eyes are no longer soft and languid. Instead, they were warm and wanting, shifting between your eyes and lips hungrily. As if contemplating if he should take you right then and there and steal the breath from your lips. Where his calm smile once was, his lips are parted, letting out shallow exhales.

You make the first move, locking your lips with his. He returns your fervor just as passionately, pulling you flush against him by the hips until there isn’t a crevice between the two of you that isn’t touching. His hands are rough and demanding, but you like his harshness as they trail down to the backs of your thighs, lifting you, and bringing you up along with him as he stands, murmuring something about heading to the bedroom as he kissed feverishly down your neck.

You can only giggle in response, arm wrapped securely around his shoulders and a hand threaded through his silver hair.

* * *

“Sometimes, you’re here, but it feels like you’re not.” You thought he would be surprised by your words, but as he sits on the couch across from you, he only nods, listening without a single hint of shock on his features.

"I'm sorry. It's just been so busy with the new album and the rehearsals, planning, and everything…" He trails off, knowing full well that you aren't interested in his excuses or his reasons, but your expression is soft as you nod, listening to him.

Your eyes meet and your irises are soft and understanding, “I know,” you sigh, “I know you’ve been busy but I–I just…” You don't know how to say the words; if you say them now, it will be an admission of weakness, a chink in the armor of yours, and Hansol's relationship that had always seemed so impenetrable.

Until now.

“It’s just that ever since you got back from your tour in America, you feel different.” The words are soft and barely above a whisper as you say them; they feel like a confession you aren’t ready to give. But you know you have to if you want to work it out, however it doesn’t make it any easier to say.

“Things were great when I got back,” his tone is so calm that it sounds almost like a suggestion instead of a defense. “I mean, those first few weeks they gave me to rest, those were really good.”

“Yeah, I guess they were.” You seem only half convinced. He was right, but deep down you also couldn’t shake the feeling that something in the foundations of your dynamic had shifted.

“Sometimes, I feel like I have to choose between you and my music, and I don’t want to have to choose.”

You swallow the lump that forms in your throat at his words. You understood exactly what he meant; it had been good for those first two weeks. It was only recently when he'd been spending more late hours, entire days and nights at the studio preparing for his upcoming album, that you’d become more restless.

Before you can reply to apologize, he speaks first, “but it’s okay. I know me being gone was hard on you.”

“It was hard on both of us, Sol. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking so much that you feel like you have to choose between the things you love most.” At your reply, he takes your hands that are folded across your lap and he rubs soft patterns into your knuckles. Smiling, he brings them to his lips and presses soft kisses there, one on each before intertwining your fingers with his.

“I’m really glad you told me though, I mean, I know it’s hard, I know I’m – um, not the easiest when it comes to talking about things like this, but thanks,” he clears his throat, masking the emotion in a cough, “for telling me.”

Finally, he looks up from your hands and meets your teary-eyed gaze. “I know I��m not an expert at being a boyfriend, but I am still your best friend, so even if it’s hard, I’m happy you told me.”

Before he can say more, you quickly interject, "I love you." The words spill out of you in a rushed exhale and it doesn't help that you were in tears already.

“I love you, Hansol.” You repeat, firmer and clearer this time. You watch him tilt his head sideways, processing your words before exhaling in a light chuckle of relief. This time it’s your turn to pull his hands close and press a kiss to the soft skin there. You let your lips linger for a moment, some of your tears falling onto his hands.

He shifts his hands, changing the position to cup your face in a loving caress, tilting your jaw so you can meet his eyes, “I love you, too. For as long as I can.”

“Everything will be okay.” You say it first, the words that you know will reassure you both that you’d get through this. Hansol’s eyes light up in recognition and he nods, pulling you by the nape into a warm hug.

* * *

“Sol, are you here? I’m home, baby.” You call out into the apartment as you enter, your feet pushing the front door open, keys jangling from one hand, the other full of groceries.

Like clockwork, he comes out of your bedroom to welcome you home, a bright smile on his face. Upon seeing your somewhat haphazard, but still lovely state, he hurries to take the bags from your hands and relieve you of the weight.

“You went to the grocery?” He asks, setting the bags onto the counter and giving you a confused look, “I thought you and Sofia had a date today?”

“Yeah, we did.” You reply, helping him unpack. “We went for lunch after the movie, then groceries.”

Ever since you'd met his family six months ago, you and his sister were inseparable; meeting every month for dates that would last entire days, some even resulting in sleepovers at the Choi house (without Hansol, much to his dismay). It was an understatement that the two of you adored each other. While you often helped her with her homework and general teenage concerns, she often talked with you about books or songs you liked, giving you the female companionship you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

It wasn't that you didn't love all the boys to bits; you had lots of common interests with them and could even spend countless days talking to each one about various meaningful topics. They were always so sweet and entertaining, and it had always been apparent that they had adored you just as much, but there was just something different about talking to another female – even if it was oftentimes her brother at the center of your discussions – something that felt warm, familiar and comfortable.

“You two are weird.” Hansol muses. “Sometimes, I feel like you’re dating my sister and not me.”

“Honestly, I’d date your sister. She’s great.” You tease, playing along. He laughs at the sentiment as he, transfers oranges from the bag to a fruit bowl, setting it onto the table.

“But,” hopping over, you startle him by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close, “you’re the only one I want to do this with.”

Stepping onto your tiptoes, you press a kiss to his lips, and he bends down, arms wrapping around your waist as he leans down to return the gesture.

When you pull apart, arms still encircling each other, he smiles your favorite kind of smile and presses a kiss to your forehead, "I'm glad you didn't decide to sleepover at our house today, you spend way too much time with Sofia.”

You laugh, tipping your head back and falling backward with your full weight, knowing full well that Hansol's sturdy arms will catch you with ease, pulling you to his chest.

“Hansol Choi!” You feign shock, “Is that jealousy I hear in your voice? Are you actually jealous?”

“No way, loser.” He scoffs, setting you upright and unwrapping himself from you and walking towards his phone on the coffee table. From the side, you can see that a slight rosiness has spread across his cheeks and you giggle to yourself in pride that you’ve finally won a round in this back and forth you two had going.

“I can’t even believe she wants to babysit you, free of charge too.” He calls over his shoulder as he disappears into your shared room, as you laugh in response.

That night, Hansol falls asleep browsing his phone and as you’re prying it out of his sleepy hands, you feel the device vibrate, lighting up beneath your touch. On the screen, you see it’s a notification for a message from Sofia that reads: “You’re just jealous cause she likes me so much better.”

Opening the phone with your thumbprint (which Hansol insisted you input onto his phone for “emergency purposes” which were really just moments when he was too lazy to text), it opens to their conversation where you can see Hansol’s previous message: "Stop stealing my girlfriend."

Locking his phone and setting it down onto the bedside table, you settle beside him and giggle under your breath as you watch him sleep. You press a butterfly kiss to his forehead, a silent good night gesture, and the tiniest hint of a smile flutters across his lips.

* * *

The airport is a jam-packed hall of people rushing left and right, some trying to get to their luggage, while others are trying to chase down their flights; some flying home to their families, some to work, and some you imagine, are frantically trying to reach a love they are hoping they aren’t too late for.

Maybe it’s all the romance movies you’d watched with Hansol this week leading up to his departure, or maybe it was the melancholy you just couldn’t shake from your chest, your stomach doing flips as you anticipated having to say goodbye to him in a few minutes.

Beside you, he's calmly and very casually looking over his flight details, checking the boards for his flight number and check-in gate. Trying to distract yourself, you stare down at the tile of the terminal beneath your feet. Unlike you, they are made to withstand goodbyes. These halls have probably heard the word goodbye more than hospitals have, and you wonder how many ever actually return.

Deep down, you know you’re being too emotional about all of this. It was just two months, three tops. He wasn’t going away forever, and it was for his work, his dream. Finally, the thing he had been chasing so earnestly was slowly coming to fruition and you wouldn’t let yourself get in his way.

The good intention, however, does nothing to calm the pit that only deepens in your stomach as his departure draws nearer and nearer; Hansol knew how you felt about goodbyes, he knew your relationship with your parents (as non-existent as it was) and how their abandonment had scarred you. Still, you put on a brave face, you place your hand on his shoulder, grabbing his attention and pointing to the numbers in red on the departures board that you recognize to be his flight number.

"Your gate’s F-18," you tell him, peering over his shoulder to double-check and cross-reference the numbers with his documents, "and it opens in about 30 minutes."

“Thanks, babe,” he smiles, taking your hand in his, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The sentiment is sweet, but you know he’s just saying it to ease the anxiety he knows is building in you, despite being invisible on the surface. Pulling you to an emptier section of chairs in the massive lobby of the airport, he sits the both of you down and intertwines your fingers with his, placing it in his lap. With his other hand, he types a quick message to his producer that he’s already arrived and would just see her inside at the boarding area.

“Breathe, baby.” He whispers in your ear, pulling you out of your racing thoughts. He presses two fingers to your lower lip that you’ve unconsciously taken in between your teeth in your nervousness.

“And please stop biting, you’ll hurt yourself.” He smiles, placing his free hand on the side of your face and pulling your head close to him to press a kiss to the side of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair as he does.

“Sorry,” you bow your head in shame, leaning into the feel of his lips in your hair, and pressing your shoulder into his, reveling in any comfort you can find in his warmth.

Angling his head to the side to give you a better view of his face, he gives you a kind and understanding smile as he shakes his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. I know it’s hard.”

You meet his eyes and in them, there’s nothing less than adoration and empathy. The sight shatters your guard, and you feel the hot moisture start to build in your eyes, the image of Hansol slowly becoming blurry.

Again, he hugs you to him, pulling you into the crook of his neck. Finally giving in, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the comfortable space, silently pouring your heart out there.

“There’s my little cry baby, y/n,” he chuckles, alternating between rubbing your back and smoothing your hair, “for a minute there, I thought you transformed into some, alien mature version of yourself, yuck.”

“You’re such a dick, Hansol Vernon Choi.” you sob into his shoulder, voice breaking as you reprimand and slap his shoulder. It only makes him laugh harder. “I can’t believe you’re laughing at me right now.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, chuckling as he tilts your chin up to face him, “you were just trying so hard to act tough, I couldn’t leave you like that. Besides, you’re so cute when you cry.”

He presses his lips to yours in apology; if he tastes the tears, he doesn't say, not that he minded anyway. He would take all of you anytime, rain or shine, in laughter, and even in cute sobs in the middle of busy airports.

“It’ll be okay, baby. Just a few months.” He rubs your shoulder as your tears subside into soft sniffles, “I’ll call you every day and we’ll talk all the time, I promise. It’ll be so often that you’re gonna get sick of me anyway.”

You shake your head, slapping his shoulder again as you pull him closer to you. "I could never. Never ever, Hansol, don’t be a fucking dumbass.”

“I know, y/n, I’m just teasing you. I’m gonna miss that while I’m away.”

“What? Teasing me?” You pout.

“No, you physically abusing me when I tease you.”

You shift, facing him completely, your face tear-stained, but more visibly annoyed than anything else. His eyes are watching you intently, anticipating your reaction while he bites his lips, obviously trying to fight a smile from breaking out.

Letting out an exasperated huff of air, you say the only thing you can think to as a final resort. "I'm going to tell mom and Sofia on you."

That’s all it takes for him to burst into boisterous laughter that makes other waiting passengers look over at the two of you, some of his saliva splattering onto you as he grips your shoulders, shaking you playfully as he buries his face into your shoulder as he tries to calm himself.

Not immune to his charms, you feel yourself swayed by the sound of his laughter, finding yourself laughing along with him. You're sure that more people are staring at the two of you at this point, but you don't care. Right now, you were completely swept up in his laughter and you would savor the happiness while it lasted. You laugh until your sides hurt and you both can no longer breathe properly.

Once your giggles have subsided into bright smiles, he wipes the tears that have pooled in his eyes from laughing. Then he pulls the sleeve of his sweatshirt and reaches up to clean your tears and his spit from your face, which at this point, can no longer be differentiated.

Looking over at his watch, you note that there are only ten minutes left before he has to check-in. You look at him, straightening the orange beanie on his head, "Don't worry about me, okay Sol? I'll be fine, just come home to me."

Automatically he replies, “of course. Always.”

Right on cue, the airport announces the opening of his gate and you unwrap yourself from him, the two of you getting up to head to his counter where the two of you would inevitably have to part. The two of you walk there in silence, fingers intertwined.

Once you reach the gate, you face him with a smile, pressing a kiss to his lips and telling him to take care. When you try to untangle your hand from his, surprisingly he's the one who doesn't want to let go. He pulls you back into his arms, crushing you in a hug that seems to last for an eternity, but not nearly long enough. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as if trying to catch and memorize your scent.

“I’ll see you soon, okay y/n?” He whispers into your skin, but you can tell that the words are more for him than they are for you.

“I’ll see you soon, baby.” You rub his back, giving him a squeeze, before prying him off you, withdrawing from the hug to set some distance between you. He kisses you once, twice then thrice more, before finally grabbing his luggage and heading to the entrance. When he reaches it though, he turns around, waving as he calls out, “I miss you already!” Knowing exactly what he was trying to say, the actual words that if he said might cause you to cry, you fight the tears.

“I miss you already!” You yell back; I love you too.

"Oh!" He turns around, facing you again, "And don't tell my mom or Sofia on me, please? If you do, I won't hear the end of it. We both know they love you more than me."

You laugh, motioning for him to go through the security check already, “I’ll think about it!”

* * *

When the boys find out, it’s a wild and complete understatement to describe it as a literal fucking shitshow. That morning, Hansol is at the dining table having breakfast – technically brunch since he'd woken up later than he intended thanks to last night's antics – scrolling through his phone, and you're hovering over him, clad in nothing but his white-button up, pouring freshly brewed coffee into his cup. As you do, he notices how the shirt hikes up your form in the slightest, but most delicious way, revealing just a sliver of the skin of your backside.

Immediately, he finds himself distracted by something else. Setting his phone down, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you to him in one swift movement, setting the coffee pot out of your hands.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He says bending you over to him, so he can kiss you, his hand finding the now more exposed skin of your rear, as you press your lips to his.

“Oh, my fucking god.” You recognize Jun’s voice, followed by rushed footfalls with worried and shocked shouts. Immediately recognizing the voices, Hansol is on his feet in a flash, covering you up as you try to maintain whatever modesty you still have.

In the doorway, there stood your 12 closest friends – the very people you had been hiding this relationship from – cramming themselves through the doorway craning their necks to see.

"I fucking knew it!" Mingyu breaks the tension, enunciating every word while pushing past the others, striding into the apartment proudly. “Wonwoo, Coups, Seungkwan, and Minghao, pay up."

His composure is enough to snap everyone out of their shock and the entire apartment ensues into chaos. Jun coming in to set his things and the snacks they’d bought onto the dining table beside you, smiling brightly and congratulating you and Hansol.

"I knew you two would eventually date. This is so great, congratulations you guys, we should go on a double date sometime." Somehow, he had managed to be utterly sweet and sincere, while completely oblivious or just indifferent to the fact that you were almost completely naked.

As Jun moved to find a spot in the room, behind him, the boys were arguing loudly, Seungcheol stomping his foot while debating fiercely with Mingyu, "Nu-uh, if they don't say they’re dating, it doesn’t count!”

Beside him, Seungkwan and Minghao are fervently agreeing and contesting Mingyu who was laughing loudly, shaking his head, and having none of it.

Hoshi on the other hand – who you noticed had just changed his hair color to a deep green– was coming in hot. His excitement had him practically bouncing to you and Hansol, shouting, “Our Vernonnie is a man now! You two are so cute! Don’t forget to use protection, okay?”

From behind him, DK comes bounding in, placing his hands on his hyung’s back affectionately, before chiming in, “Congratulations, Hansolie! You’re really lucky to have y/n.”

You almost melt at his sweet words, but that sentiment quickly evaporates when he adds, “And don’t worry,” he looks to you, “we didn’t see anything.”

“Yup, nothing at all we promise!” Hoshi agrees, both winking at you as though it's an inside joke and you are so fucking mortified you could choke on air and die right then.

"We should have brought alcohol and more food since we’re celebrating Vernon losing his virginity!” Jeonghan complains from across the room, loud enough that despite the noise bustling in the apartment, everyone hears him perfectly.

From the couch, Dino raises his phone and calls out, “I can order more food.”

On the side, the boys are still arguing, angrily quarreling as they walked towards you both. “Y/n, Hansol, please tell these dummies that you two are actually soulmates and that you both have the sight and are happily dating, please?” Mingyu demands and you feel your mouth open reflexively to answer him, but so overwhelmed by the situation that nothing comes out.

“See? She isn’t saying anything! It’s not true!” Seungkwan argues, pointing at whose face is frozen at flabbergasted, mouth open and brows furrowed.

“Yeah, silence means no!” Seungcheol argues, lightly punching Mingyu in the arm, “Right Hansol? Don’t forget I’m you’re hyung." Confused, you wonder how the conversation has evolved from mere chaos to down-right intimidation and threat-filled.

“Don’t listen to him bro,” Mingyu coaxes Hansol, “love shouldn’t be hidden away!”

“Friends can sleep with each other and not have to be soulmates, Mingyu!” Wonwoo counters, “Sex and love aren’t mutually exclusive, Gyu.”

All this happens within the first minutes they arrive, and you find yourself reaching for Hansol’s hand for comfort. He takes it easily, perfectly in sync with you, squeezes it gently to offer his strength, a silent promise that he'll take care of it.

Somehow, you and Hansol manage to slip past everyone; him covering you from every angle he possibly can as you scamper into his room, immediately closing the door and locking it, so rushed that it slams loud enough that a sudden silence washes over the entire apartment.

The two of you take a breath. You look at him and his eyes meet yours almost instantly and the flustered look on both your faces is all it takes for you to erupt into embarrassed laughter, burying your face into his shoulder. At the sound, he finds himself unable to keep from joining you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug, his hands moving to the back of your head, smoothing out your hair in downward motions.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Hansol chuckles, “I forgot they had a spare key, too.” You shake your head at him, still laughing at the craziness of the moment. He didn’t have to apologize, you had both forgotten, all caught up in your bliss.

“Please don’t break up with me.” He jokes, kissing your temple and you laugh even more.

“I love you, Hansol.” You kiss the skin of his neck as you hug him tightly.

* * *

It’s been almost two months since Hansol returned from his tour in America. After some bumps here and there, the two of you had finally fallen into a comfortable rhythm to navigate daily life. He was still spending most of his time at the studio, but you'd both worked out a schedule wherein you'd have a day every other week that would be yours and yours alone. There were also no more overnight songwriting sessions unless they were absolutely necessary.

You, on the other hand, had learned not to ask for too much of Hansol's time. Things were different now with his growing popularity, naturally, you couldn't expect things to stay the same. So, you busy yourself with work, hanging out with the boys, dates with Sofia, and even some classes you've decided to take for yourself.

Admittedly, the transition had been somewhat of a rough patch in your relationship, but after a long period, you were starting to feel like the two of you were finally in sync again. Coming out stronger and more understanding to each other. The constant reassurances you’d given each other had paid off, because now things finally were okay.

“Babe, you headin’ out already?” Hansol’s voice from the bedroom, pulls you out of your reverie and you’re brought back to your reflection staring back at you in the mirror, out in the hallway.

Giving yourself a once over, you realize it had been snowing lately and it would be good to wear a scarf, knowing how easily you got cold. “Yeah, almost. Could you hand me my lavender scarf?” The one you got me when you first confessed like a loser, you want to say, but don’t. If you started the teasing match with him now, you’d never make it to class.

Popping out of your bedroom, he walks over to you. “Here you go,” he says wrapping the scarf around your neck then pulling you in for a hug. He kisses your forehead, telling you to be careful and have fun, before turning around and heading back where he came, dragging his feet tiredly as he goes.

You turn around to check your reflection again, wanting to straighten out the scarf knowing it’s probably strewn haphazardly on you, judging from how lazy a mood Hansol seemed to be in. You freeze, seeing your reflection, finally seeing the scarf clearly and realizing.

It’s blue.

The 5 minutes it takes for you to snap out of your shock feel like forever, but you pull yourself out of it, tearing your eyes away from the vibrantly not lavender scarf. Forcing your mouth to move, you call out, “Bye, Sol, I’m headed out now. I love you.”

It takes what seems like an eternity for him to reply, but once it comes, it seems to echo through the dimly lit apartment, taunting you even as you turn the knob and walk out the door.

“I love you too.”

3. Love is a fickle thing: if you find it, treasure it, because color can leave twice as quickly as it comes.

Fin.

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ollypopwrites · 4 years ago

Text

30 questions tag

thank you for thinkin of me @generaldamneron 💜ily

name/nickname: Olly

gender: she/her!!

star sign: taurus

height: 5′2

time: 2:03 pm

birthday: may 13

favorite bands: florence and the machine, fall out boy, my chemical romance, fleetwood mac, ABBA, depeche mode, mumford and sons

fave solo artists: Beyonce, hozier, ariana grande, lady gaga, megan thee stallion, lil nas x, dolly parton

song stuck in my head: Running Up That Hill -- Kate Bush

last movie i watched: Do the Right Thing

last show i watched: House M.D. (idk man my partner put it on and i was doing homework.)

when did I create this blog: YEARS ago but mostly as an inspo dump for my writing i wasnt active at all

what do i post: fics, aesthetic stuff, gay shit and some personal nonsense.

last thing i googled: what are the names of the miller’s tale characters

other blogs: @ollypopedits sideblog for ps resources and some of my edits and a secret one you dont get to know about lmao

do i get asks: yes, and i love them.

why i chose my url: my name is olly which kinda sounds like lolli (like lollipop) -- so ollypop but that was taken so i added the extra p

following: 292

followers: I just broke 700, love yall 🥰

average hours of sleep: like 7 usually, no matter when i go to sleep ill usually wake up 7 hours later lol.

lucky number: 4

instruments i play: i can’t play any instruments! sad i know 😔

what i’m wearing: yoga pants and a sweatshirt cuz its cold in socal for some reason

dream job: film writer/director, mabe a novelist as well.

dream trip: idk what my dream trip is but ive just been dying to get lost in the forest lately.

nationality: Eastern European.

favorite song (at the moment): “Your Hands are Cold” from the Pride and Prejudice (2005) soudntrack has been on repeat lately.

last book read: Le Morte d’Arthur by Thomas Malory.

top three fictional universes i’d like to live in: Star Wars, the self-indulgent alternative reality i visit in my head, and whatever harry potter is without the racism, anti-semitism, fatphobia and transphobia. idk man i just want a magic wand and to live in a castle ok you can keep the other shit

no pressure tagging: anyone who wants to play 💜

#tag games

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almaasi · 6 years ago

Text

reaction post typed while watching SPN 14x14 “Ouroboros”

conclusion: yes, apparently feet can look gay, and Dean and Cas are both queer by proxy

04:35pm

me: still v magnesium deficient, sick, dizzy

LET’S WATCH A THING AND THINK ABOUT IT WITH MY PUDDING BRAIN

any thoughts stated here are run through a pudding filter so please do not be alarmed if they are incoherent or a weird colour

okay it’s a Steve Yockey episode so i guess he’s gonna give us a great character and then kill them before the title card

04:41

hang on i need to eat and i can’t eat and think at the same time so i’mma go watch an episode of shaun the sheep brb

04:46

okay well i watched half an episode and ate half my food so,... yay

LET’S WATCH THIS OTHER THING THEN

04:48

sam’s “i believe in us” *PUNCH* still makes me laugh

04:49

the body on the AAAAAAAAAAAAA I’

M SCREAMING NOPE NOPE NOPE

can i just watch this whole thing with my hand over the screen

because that is what i’ doing rn

oh god i hate this

actually you know what

i just skipped to the title card

cause fuck that haahahhaah nope

oh lord it didn’t skip to team free will

how much of this do i have to take

oh okay tfw are here already

WELL GREAT NOW I HAVE TO FIGURE OUT WHERE TO SKIP BACK TO

ASJFSDFHSFHSJ

04:54

i fuckin love rowena and how much they ask for her help even though they’re “enemies” except they’re clearly lowkey Fond of each other

also i like how this ep started in the middle of the case

04:56

rowena: “hello castiel” ;) ;) ;)

okay well

this pleases me

because i know the only way this ends is that cas is not interested and that’s the Point

because he <3s dean

but also why the hell is rowena into cas....... surely she knows he loves dean. unless she’s just into starting shit, i wouldn’t be surprised

04:58

the way jack says “i’m not dying”

10/10

04:59

cas: “he’s now claimed the lives of six people in northern new mexico”

why does he say “people” like that

05:01

dean’s throwing a looooot of salt at rowna. maybe because she keeps flirting with cas

“everything means something”

YEAH EXACTLY

DEAN’S SALTY BECAUSE ROWENA’S FLIRTING WITH CAS I’VE DECIDED

05:03

sam says dean can keep michael locked in his head “because he’s dean and dean is dean”

yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah okay

expert closet curator, you mean

05:05

dean has a good feeling about bringing rowena in on this one??????????????? after all the snark????????????

cas: “they do have many books”

me: *squINTS REALLY HARD* i feel like they’re implying something else and neither of them are talking about the same thing. did dean set sam up on a date with rowena????????????

also?

DEAN AND CAS ARE ON A DATE. DEAN AND CAS ARE ON A DINNER DATE IN A DINER. ALERT ALERT ALERT

paralleling rowena and sam perhaps

05:08

concerned head tilt

oh god their love and mutual understanding and trust in each other is killing me with its softness

i’m so so so glad we get to see them in some downtime at fucking last

05:10

oh no jack’s coughing again

why can’t he have nice things

05:10

dean: “that’s what i’m supposed to say, right? i’m fine? keep on moving?”

cas: “no, dean”

the fact dean lets his guard down only with cas in private ;~;

sidenote, this episode is giving me my bloody valentine meets hunteri heroici vibes, which is nice because they’re two of my all-time fave episodes

but god i wish it would go easy on the cannibalism

05:14

dean: “i’m barely even sleeping” :D

THAT PAINED GRIN OH GOD

but also

i’m so emotional because he told anyone at all, but especially that of all people he told cas

of course he told cas, cas is his emotional sounding board

if this were a fanfic cas would offer to share the bed with dean and help him sleep

....but i mean, who knows, maybe dean was secretly hoping for that anyway

05:19

that’s the face of “dean doesn’t know what liturgical means”

05:22

jack: “what’s an av club?”

cas: “it’s a special club for people who do not play sports”

dean: *points at cas* “him. he’s av club”

mmmmmmmm yup

autistic nerd

dean’s baseball and track team, cas is av club and student tutoring

but also if dean ever got cas onto the baseball field cas would hit every ball first time

and dean would be swooning

BUT ALSO DEAN WOULD FUCKING LOVE AV CLUB ARE YOU KIDDING ME

he’d be in there with charlie every fuckin day and leaning seductively on furniture while cas does his nerd thing, until the point where something properly capures dean’s interest and then HE WANTS A GO and bats away everyone else’s hands and hogs the contraption for 3 hours. also he’d fix things when they break

DEAN TONE DOWN THE PROJECTION A NOTCH WOULD YA

JEEZ

look i’m just gonna count dean calling cas “av club” as flirting, because hello yes there is no way dean doesn’t find that interesting

05:30

i fucking knew it

the moment this episode opened and i saw the guy’s bare feet in the kitchen somehow i knew he was queer ??????????

i can’t explain it

but the fact there was a shot of his feet and his feet looked gay i can’t even

anyway this probably doesn’t even count as legit queer rep given he’s seducing guys and killing them so

stupid gay feet

sidenote: did ANYONE else get queer vibes from that opening scene? CAN PEOPLE’S FEET LOOK GAY OR IS THAT JUST ME

maybe it’s like... the sensuality of bare feet + cooking, breaking pointless gender roles n stuff, my brain has been coded by society’s bullshit to perceive sensual men as non-heterosexual

idk

but also. the foot-upward view of a new character... male gaze, right? and seeing the male gaze on a male character makes it queer

goddamn

it’s a thing

it’s a thing and the directing got the point across and it took me until now to work it out

GAY FEET

also

now i’m going back to cas’ line “six people”

my initial understanding of that line was that they weren’t all men

but the thing was the people didn’t need to be said that way if it was just men and women

my immediate instinct said the victims were non-binary, but i didn’t type it because i had no reason yet to believe that might be true and it seemed unnecessary to say it

but at this point, as the baddie hits on a guy at a truck stop in exchange for a ride, they’re clearly potentially queer victims

yeah that explains the inflection

05:41

on the one hand, i’m seeing a connection to that time dean was seduced by a siren

but see my problem with this is that the guy’s either gonna end up dead or saved and i don’t know which yet

i just want happy queer stories

so i’m pretty divided about this

but on the other hand, please, god, let this gorgon guy “sense things” about dean

ALSO WAIT

IS THIS THE FIRST GAY KISS ON THIS SHOW?????????? 90% SURE THIS THE FIRST GAY KISS. there might have been a background one once

PROGRESS HAS BEEN MADE

EVEN IF IT’S EVIL AND TWISTED AND MAKES ME FEEL WEIRD

05:44

i feel like there should’ve been an optic nerve attached to that eyeball.. and a lot of gross stuff

but also thank goodness there wasn’t

ohdfjfdg i really hate this

but also i’m smiling?

05:46

cas: “is this amusing to you?”

the guy called him sir!!! eeheheh

05:47

cas: “you’re not standing alone, why doesn’t he mention me?”

dean: “maybe you’re not his type”

i mean. guess he can’t see angels. BUT ALSO

CAN WE UNPACK HOW UTTERLY QUEER EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS

WE NOW UNDERSTAND THAT NOAH’S TYPE IS QUEER GUYS

AND DEAN KNOWS THIS

SO BY SAYING CAS ISN’T NOAH’S TYPE THAT MEANS HE’S IMPLYING THAT HE HIMSELF IS

BECAUSE HE’S QUEER AF

steve yockey, this is the episode i was waiting to see from you

team free will working a case together, dean and cas on a date talking about their feelings, on a case about queer stuff

hell fucking yes

05:52

rowena: “need anti-venom in case one of you boys gets sloppy”

wouldn’t that mean noah kisses either cas or jack

god i’m so glad rowena’s there too

this episode is great sdgsfkg

05:53

ROWENA AND SAM FAKING A RELATIONSHIP + A DOG OH MRJGJD IFUCKING LOVE THIS

WHERE DID THEY GET THE DOG

WHERE’S THE BIT LATER WHERE DEAN AND CAS ~FAKE~ A RELATIONSHIP PLEASE

05:55

OH MY GOD THE VET STUCK A THERMOMETER IN JACK’S ASS

OH MY GOFH D:

06:00

noah: “then he doesn’t have to die like all the other men”

hmmmmmmm

okay so all the victims were men

which makes me even more curious about why cas used that inflection on “people”

cas also looked like of amused? definitely a misha expression rather than a cas expression, the little lilt of a smile on his lips like the way he says any word starting with “h”

maybe some of them were transgender men and cas didn’t know them before they died so could only guess as to their gender? maybe some of the bodies they found were not gender-conforming

it also kiiiiind of sounded like misha changing the script after a discussion on set about it

but if that were true then that means someone on set doesn’t believe gay or queer men are men? maybe? maybe i’m reaching there

but i’m genuinely caught up on that inflection and the use of that word, it really stood out to me

and it stands out especially, now, because like i said, we know the victims were men, we know team free will found them all, and we know they were queer.

but also it’s not dean saying it, it’s cas

and i can’t imagine any scenario where cas would have trouble with non-binary pronouns

if anyone has further thoughts on this, please direct me towards them

06:23

my browser broke?? and i lost a chunk of this post, but i had the above stuff backed up in email

i'mma go back a bit and try and remember what i typed

idk i think it was just about the fact noah confirmed all his victims were men which further confused me

and then said he also eats ladies

and then said some feminist stuff which made me sad that it came from the bad guy

but also that i could imagine cas saying something similar, deadpan, and then reaching for dean’s burger

* schmooch *

whEN DOES DEAN GET TO DO THAT

06:28

okay YES

I KNOW WHAT I WANT TO SAY

NOAH SAYS HELLO TO DEAN

WHY JUST DEAN

WHY IS HE FIXATED ON DEAN WHEN THERE’S 3 OTHER PEOPLE IN THE ROOM? and why only write the letter to dean?

I’LL TELL YOU WHY

BECAUSE DEAN’S BISEXUAL AF

AND YES HE IS HIS TYPE

REPRESSED “STRAIGHT” MEN WHO SECRETLY LIKE GUYS

CAN THAT BE ANY MORE OBVIOUS?? I THINK NOT

i love how this episode refers back to some of the older episodes, in the best possible way

conclusion: dean is bi

06:32

noah took the bag with the snek inside but i guess the snek esckep

06:34

maybe true love’s kiss will wake dean up

CAS QUICK

MIGHT AS WELL TRY RIGHT

06:40

hurts my heart how cas has apparently made peace with the fact he’ll outlive dean and sam

i guess it’s good but

can’t help but believe deep down he would rather die than live without them

and now i’m crying because cas says the point is that you got to know them at all

suddenly catharsis for future pain

06:47

oh NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAGGIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THIS IS THE WORST

06:47

rowena as michael??? okay, that i can get behind

ooh

BUT ALSO

OH NO

06:49

michael (about dean): “it didn’t work out. it was him. not me.”

flip of a classic dating line, making this QUEER AGAIN

06:55

JACK THE LIL HERO

WHAT DID YOU DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

//waits for the silence to be over

06:56

oh boy

06:57

OKAY WOW

WHAT AN EPISODE

i was really hoping it would turn into a plotty one, the way changing channels does at the end

this was really well done and i enjoyed it a lot!!!!!!!!! i mean, besides the squicks, and the fact the queer rep and feminist lines came from a bad guy

dean was 100% noah’s type

jack is the bestest baby bean

i feel so bad about the thermometer thing..... like, i’m not sure if it was meant to come across as funny? but there was no indication it should be... which is good i guess? but also i feel secondhand violated

DEAN AND CAS’ DATE AND TALKING ABOUT FEELINGS WHEEE

i like that this episode actually came full circle on that “dean vs michael” point, rather than having it be a one-off conversation and things aren’t resolved until a later episode

i think i’m gonna enjoy rowena as michael. and i like that she said yes because she does care about team free will

sad about maggie :c

but also all those other extra hunters were changed out pretty much episode so there was no real way to know who they were. they seemed pretty diverse though, across various episodes

i liked the asian lady vet!!!! she was fun. and i’m glad the asian gay guy didn’t die... where did he even disappear to though? who knows

overall 10/10? it had all the good shit i like so. yep.

I WANT MORE EPISODE LIKE THIS. QUEER CHARACTERS (PREFERABLY NOT EVIL), MORE ASIAN CHARACTERS, MORE TEAM FREE WILL ON HUNTS, MORE LADIES GETTING COOL ROLES AS PART OF THE TEAM AND/OR AS AN FRENEMY, MORE JACK SAVING THE DAY

MORE ROWENA IN PANTS

yeah

but more of all

MORE GAY KISSES FOR DEAN AND CAS

i love that the fact noah was fixated on dean put him in the “noah’s type = queer” category, and when noah kissed cas it did the same thing

so really, by evil proxy, noah made a point of showing us who’s queer

i mean we already knew

but HE SHOWED US

yee

no conclusion on why cas said p e o p l e though

#14x14 #ouroboros #spn spoilers #Steve Yockey #season 14 #Elmie watches things #post of postiness #Destiel #my meta #meta #Dean is bisexual

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thelastspeecher · 6 years ago

Text

Superhero/villain AU - The Villainous Side of the Family

Day 01 Day 02 Day 03 Day 04 Day 05 Day 06 Day 07 Day 08 Day 09 Day 10 Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14 Day 15 Day 16 Day 17 Day 18 Day 19 Day 20 Day 21 Day 22 Day 23 Day 24 Day 25 Day 26 Day 27 Day 28 Day 29 Day 30

Finishing up NaNoWriMo fifteen days late, and with yet another Superhero/villain AU write! I didn’t proofread this, jsyk, but I’m ready to be done with NaNoWriMo and focus on studying, so here. Enjoy Stan having encounters with the villains his children will be related to, including a certain Fiddleford McGucket. Oh, and as a heads-up, the last scene takes place when Danny and Daisy are about three, during their first trip to the McGucket farm.

Word count: 2668

Ford watched idly as Stan rocketed around the living room, picking up stray wrappers and socks.

“Stanley?”

“Yeah?” Stan asked, tossing a blanket onto the couch.

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I mean…you’re cleaning,” Ford said. Stan looked at him. “I’m fairly certain that’s either a sign you are gravely ill or that the apocalypse is upon us.”

“Ha ha,” Stan said dryly. “Very funny, Sixer.” He picked up an old newspaper. “Angie and Lute are coming over today, and you saw how clean their place was. I don’t wanna scare them off just because we hate picking up old socks. I mean, this chick is pregnant with my kids.”

“Fair enough.”

“Help me out, will you? Half this stuff is yours.”

“I’m doing my own part to impress the McGuckets,” Ford said. He gestured at the notes he was skimming. “I printed off the files that I used to track them down in the first place, and I’m studying them.”

“Dammit, Ford,” Stan snapped. “I’m not playing around. You scare them off, and I end up a shitty dad like Pops was. Worse. I end up an absent father.”

“Stanley, that won’t happen.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It won’t. You’re gonna get rid of those files, and you’re gonna help me clean up.” Stan threw the newspaper he was holding at Ford. “Get off your ass and pick up your damn socks.”

Half an hour later, Stan was nervously pacing by the front door. The doorbell rang. Stan jumped. He took a deep breath.

You got this. He opened the door and plastered a smile on his face.

“Uh, hey.”

“Stanley,” Lute said shortly. Angie was standing a few steps behind Lute, looking at the outside of Stan and Ford’s house with interest.

“I think ya need to clean out yer gutters,” she said idly.

“Oh, uh, yeah, probably,” Stan said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We haven’t done that since we moved here, so…”

“Geez,” Lute muttered. He huffed. “Are ya goin’ to invite us in or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, come- come in.” Stan stood to the side. Angie and Lute filed in past him. Stan closed the door. “Uh, the living room is- is right ahead. But if you wanna take a detour first, I can show you the room that I’ve started cleaning out to use as a nursery.”

“Why?” Angie asked.

“I figured you’d wanna check it out, since the kids-”

“No, Stan,” Angie interrupted, “why would ya make a nursery?” Stan blinked.

“The babies have to sleep somewhere.”

“Yer right. And they will. At our house,” Lute said firmly. Stan rubbed his face.

“Let’s talk about it in the living room, okay?”

“Fine by me,” Lute muttered. He and Angie followed Stan to the living room, where Ford was sitting on the couch. Lute looked around the living room before sitting on an armchair. “Cleaner than I thought it would be.” Stan shrugged. Angie took a seat next to Ford. She peered at the magazine he was reading.

“That’s a good issue of Scientific American,” she remarked.

“You’ve read it?”

“Mm-hmm. I mean, I wrote an article fer it, so…”

“Really?” Ford stared at Angie. Angie nodded. “That’s quite an achievement.”

“Well, Angie’s achieved a lot,” Lute said proudly. “She’s a real catch.” Angie rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, uh, let’s go back to the nursery thing,” Stan said, still standing in the middle of the living room. He took a breath. “The babies won’t come here?”

“They can come fer visits,” Angie said. “But they’ll live with me.”

“I’m their dad. Can’t they stay here every other weekend or something?”

“No,” Angie said. Stan looked down at his feet. “Look, we barely know each other. Maybe- maybe as time goes on, we can revisit this conversation. But as it stands right now, I’m takin’ full custody.”

“I’m not thrilled about my kids living with villains 24/7,” Stan said. Lute leaned forward.

“I’m not thrilled about my sister’s kids havin’ a hero fer a father. A hero, who, by the way, is the son of the hero known as Libra.”

“Stan!” Ford hissed. “You told them?”

“No,” Stan said. “I just- I told them that our mom used to be a hero, and that she worked in the same area that Sirocco did. And then the doctor asked about my family history, and I said our mom has the basic ESP package. They figured it out from there.”

“How did Sirocco come up?” Ford asked.

“Sirocco is their mom.”

“Hey!” Lute shouted. Water shot out of the glass sitting next to Ford and zoomed around the room.

“Lute, turn it off,” Angie said tiredly. Lute scowled. The water returned to the glass. Ford glanced over at his water.

“Is it still safe to drink?”

“It’s fine,” Lute said, waving a hand airily. He glared at Stan. “What’s not fine is that ya told someone about our ma bein’ Sirocco!”

“I thought there was some sort of relation between you and Sirocco, given that Angie took on that moniker,” Ford said. He leaned back thoughtfully. “I should have figured out that she was your mother. You do share the same abilities.”

“Yes, I inherited my powers from my ma.” Angie played with her hands in her lap. “But we’re not here to talk about my ma. We’re here to talk about yours.” She swallowed. “Look, we’ve been a bit iffy about all of this from the beginning. But findin’ out that my babies’ grandmother is my ma’s archnemesis? That’s- I didn’t think I could get more nervous, but turns out I was wrong.”

“You don’t have to worry about my mom, okay?” Stan said. “I won’t tell her about you, and it’s not like we’re close anyways.”

“Stan-” Angie started.

“Like I told you when I first tracked you down, I’m not gonna let my kids grow up without a dad. If that means I tell my mom I need some space, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“Hold on,” Lute said. His brow furrowed. “You’d be willing to avoid yer mother, just so’s ya wouldn’t make yer archnemesis nervous?”

�� “Since my archnemesis is pregnant with my kids, yeah, I am,” Stan said. Lute’s eyes widened. He exchanged a look with Angie. Stan turned pink, suddenly flustered. “It’s- it’s not like it’s that big a deal. I mean, you guys might be close with your folks, but I’m not.”

“Maybe that sacrifice isn’t big to you, but it’s still a sacrifice,” Angie said softly. She bit her lip. “And it’s fer me.” She ducked her head.

“I don’t- did-” Stan sighed. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“No,” Lute said. He was watching Stan with a steady, neutral expression. “No, ya didn’t.” He stood up. “Why don’t ya show us the room yer thinkin’ would be a good nursery?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“And after, maybe we can exchange phone numbers.”

“I gave you guys my number,” Stan said. Lute grinned.

“But yer brother didn’t give us his.” He glanced over at Ford. “I ain’t exactly the kind of person who leaves without gettin’ the phone numbers of good-lookin’ men.” Ford’s mouth dropped open.

“I beg your pardon?” Ford asked weakly. Angie stood up with a groan.

“Ignore him. Stan, show us this nursery yer workin’ on.” She smiled hesitantly. “I’d like to see.”

“I don’t have much ready,” Stan said. “It’s pretty much just a room.” Angie shrugged.

“Let’s just see what ya have so far. We can build upon the foundation later.” Stan cocked his head.

“Are you still talking about the nursery?” he asked slowly. Angie’s grin became firmer.

“Sure. Let’s say that.”

-----

Stan landed in the driveway, dropped Ford, and shut off his flames. He looked at Ford.

“This the place?” he asked. Ford nodded. “You sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

“All right.” Stan marched up to the door. He knocked. After a few moments, the door opened. Stan stared.

Damn. He looks just like Angie. The man who had opened the door was slender and blonde, with blue eyes hidden behind reading glasses. He frowned at Stan.

“May I help-” The man’s gaze slide sideways, to Ford, hovering behind Stan. “Stanford?”

“Fiddleford?” Ford said, stepping forward.

“What’s the reason fer yer visit?” the man – Fiddleford – asked.

“Um, we were-” Ford looked at Stan. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“Look, I’d love to catch up with ya, but my lil siblin’s are visitin’,” Fiddleford said. “They’ve been sharin’ some rather important information, so this isn’t quite the right-”

“Who’s at the door, Fidds?” a voice asked from inside. Stan took a step back.

“Shit,” he breathed. Angie appeared in the doorway.

“Stanley?” Angie asked. “What are ya doin’ here?”

“You know these two?” Fiddleford asked her. Angie nodded.

“Stan’s the…father. And Ford is his twin brother.” She scowled. “He also knew I wanted to be alone today so’s I could break the news to ya.” Angie put her hands on her hips. “I thought you were goin’ to spend today trackin’ down someone.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Stan said. “Ford tracked Bitmap to this house.”

“I must have been wrong, though,” Ford said. “I mean, I know Fiddleford, and he couldn’t possibly be-” Ford cut himself off. “Wait. Fiddleford, you- how do you know Angie?”

“She’s my baby sister, o’ course!” Fiddleford said, draping an arm around Angie’s shoulders. Ford gaped. “And the reason why ya tracked Bitmap here is ‘cause I’m Bitmap.”

“What? That’s- that can’t be right,” Ford said. “I mean, Bitmap is- Bitmap is a villainous hacker, and you- you’re quite the gentleman and-” Fiddleford raised an eyebrow. “…You’re also the older brother of two high-profile villains.”

“Yes,” Fiddleford said. “I am.” He sighed. “It’s not the best to have the two of ya just bein’ on my lawn fer ten years, so come inside.” He and Angie stood to the side so that Ford and Stan could walk in.

“This is a step up from our dorm room, huh?” Ford said jovially to Fiddleford. Fiddleford chuckled softly.

“Yessir.”

“Ford, how do you know…Fiddle…” Stan trailed off awkwardly. “Uh, Fiddle…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Fiddleford,” Ford said. “And we were college roommates.”

“Oh, this is the computer geek you roomed with in college!” Stan said. Angie snorted.

“Computer geek. Yep, that’s my big brother.”

“I’m a bit more ‘n a computer geek,” Fiddleford muttered, closing the door.

“Yes, yes,” Angie said. She ruffled Fiddleford’s hair. “I know, yer a full-blown technopath. And I’m very proud of ya. I mean, why else would my crew hire ya to do all of our…computer stuff? No one can track ya down.”

“‘Cept fer Stanford, apparently,” Fiddleford said. He crossed his arms. “How on earth did ya get through my firewalls, by the way?”

“They went down for a split second about an hour and a half ago,” Ford said. Fiddleford frowned. “It was only for a very short time, but it was just long enough for me to get a foot in.”

“I have the firewalls runnin’ constantly, even when I’m sleepin’. They would only go down if somethin’ distracted me enough to grab the entirety of my focus ‘n attention,” Fiddleford mumbled. Angie let out a small gasp. Everyone looked at her.

“Fidds, I- I ‘member what happened about an hour and a half ago.”

“Oh?” Fiddleford said. Angie nodded.

“That was ‘round the time that I told ya I was pregnant with a hero’s baby,” she said quietly. Fiddleford froze.

“Oh. Oh, Lord.” Fiddleford rubbed his face. “Oh, Lord, I- I was so thrown off by- by the news, I-” He grimaced. “I better go check to make sure nothin’ else went down while I was bein’ distracted.”

“Sorry, Fidds,” Angie mumbled. Fiddleford waved a hand.

“I mean, I had to find out eventually. Why don’t ya show yer beau and Stanford to the living room, while I check on things.”

“Yep.” Angie strode away. Ford and Stan followed her.

“Hey, Angie,” Stan said. Angie turned around.

“Yes?”

“Why the hell do your brothers keep calling me your ‘beau’?” Stan asked. Angie sighed.

“If I ever figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

-----

Angie opened the door to the farmhouse.

“Hello?” she called. There was a loud bark. A dog barreled down the hallway toward her and collided soundly with her legs. She chuckled. “Howdy there, Denver.” Angie scratched Denver behind the ears. “Is anyone home other than the dog?”

“Yes, sweetie!” Ma McGucket rounded the corner and came into sight. She strode over to her daughter. “Sorry, I was in the sewin’ room.” She kissed Angie on the cheek. “How was the drive?”

“Not too bad. Long, but that was expected.”

“Where are yer husband and daughters?” Ma McGucket asked. “They came too, right?” Angie rolled her eyes.

“The girls fell asleep in the car. Stan’s wakin’ ‘em up to bring ‘em in.”

“Ah.”

“Holy-!” a voice shouted outside. Fast footsteps sounded up the porch stairs. Angie moved away from the door just in time for it to burst open. Stan rushed inside and slammed the door closed behind him.

“Howdy, Stan, girls,” Ma McGucket said. Danny and Daisy, being carried by Stan, grinned at their grandmother.

“Hi, Grannie Gucket!” Daisy shouted. She squirmed out of Stan’s grip. Danny followed suit. Stan stared at Angie.

“There- there was a chicken chas- chasing-” he stammered. Angie frowned.

“It’s a farm, darlin’. There are bound to be chickens.”

“Yeah, but it had teeth!”

“So?” Angie asked. Stan squinted.

“Look, I know I didn’t grow up on a farm like you did, but I’m pretty sure chickens aren’t supposed to have teeth.”

“…Oh. Right. Normal chickens don’t have teeth,” Angie said slowly.

“What the hel- heck kinda chickens do you have here?” Stan demanded.

“Our livestock and produce are primarily sold to villains,” Ma McGucket said. “The chickens are a favorite of Busterphedon.”

“Sweet Moses,” Stan muttered. “Chickens with teeth. For supervillains.”

“Puppy!” Danny squealed, catching sight of Denver. Denver sat on the floor, wagging his tail happily. Stan grabbed Danny by the shoulder before she could run to Denver.

“What is wrong with that dog?” he hissed at Angie.

“Nothin’s wrong with Denver!” Angie said. “He’s a real sweetheart.”

“His eyes are glowing.”

“That’s just from his mama. He’s half hellhound.”

“Half- Angie!”

“He’s also half normal dog. It’s fine.”

“Angie.”

“The dog we had growin’ up, Joel, he was full hellhound, and he didn’t do anything bad to us,” Angie said patiently. “It’s fine.”

“Stan, let yer daughter pet the puppy. Denver is great with kids,” Ma McGucket said. Stan scowled, but let Danny go. Danny promptly ran to Denver and wrapped her arms around one of his legs.

“Puppy!” she shouted again.

“I wanna pet!” Daisy said. She joined her twin.

“Smoft,” Danny cooed, stroking Denver’s fur. She looked back at Stan and Angie. “Want one.”

“Uh, no, we’re not gonna get a hellhound,” Stan said.

“You sure about that?” Ma McGucket asked. “The breeder owes us. He gives us free pups whenever we ask.”

“I’m sure,” Stan said flatly. Angie rolled her eyes. “Maybe you guys should put the chickens away for a while. Just while the girls are here. I mean, I don’t have anything wrong with kids getting a bit scraped up now and then, but demon chickens are too much.” Ma McGucket quirked her mouth into a half-smile.

“Fair enough,” she said. “To be safe, we shouldn’t let the girls wander ‘round unsupervised at all. They don’t know how to avoid the plants.”

“Plants?” Stan asked. Angie and Ma McGucket exchanged a look. “I’m gonna regret asking that, aren’t I.”

“A lot of the plants ‘round here are carnivorous,” Angie explained. “I mean, I know how to keep ‘em from eatin’ me, but-”

“The plants eat people?”

“Sometimes,” Angie said quietly. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Hellhounds, demon chickens, and man-eating plants,” he muttered. “Ford would love this place.”

#the babs take so long to visit the McGucket farm bc the Gucks like their privacy #no but seriously I haven't proofread this at all #so I hope it turned out all right lmao #it was fun to write at least #Superhero/villain AU #Stangie #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #Stangie Family #Danica Pines #Daisy McGucket #NaNoWriMo 18 #my writing #ficlet #speecher speaks

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zuppehman-blog · 6 years ago

Video

youtube

I tried to do a summary of Manneten interview with Blakespana (keep in mind my English is really bad so correct me if i got anything wrong). Also, looks pretty weird on mobile because I can’t format, sorry.

00:00 - 3:50 Brief introduction (They talk about Sweden weather)

3:50 - 6:16 They talk about High school.

He has been in e-sports for 3 years.

He signed his first contract 1 month after finishing High School (He was 18). It was the first time he tried into a professional team too.

He is a pretty competitive person.

He was bat at school.

3:16 - 11:53 Childhood

Growing up was easy. Family was “super nice”.

Parents divorced when he was a kid. He didn’t understand so the separation wasn’t hard for him.

He has 3 older brothers (around 30 to 35). Two of them got him into videogames at 5 years old.

Traveling from his father’s house to his mother’s was annoying.

He didn’t have friends at his mother’s place so eventually he started to live with his father.

It was rough but he preferred hunging out with friends.

He studied for electrician.

He played Halo 2 and 3, Rainbow Six, Ratchet & Clank, Jak & Daxter... with his brothers.

11:53 - 14:16 Some more childhood and family stuff

His family supports his gamimg career since he started.

His mother doesn’t understand the game but has fun watching it.

He hasn’t meet one of his brothers in a long time and calls him “the bad bad boy”.

He did some Ice Hokey in school, floorball, football (soccer for all of you monsters lol)

He think Ice Hokey is cool but he isn’t really into it.

14:16 - 19:03 Gaming

His first team was “2sTroNk” which was signed by Luminosity later.

He didn’t want to be an electrician so being signed by Luminosity was like being saved.

Smite was the first game he wanted to be good at. He got to top 15.

The game felt small, everyone knew each other but him so it was hard to get a tryout or a team.

As soon as he saw Overwatch he jumped in, got level 10 and asked on reddit for a team. He still talk with those people.

He has been with Mineral for like 3 years.

He and his brothers really loved Micro Machines but they lost the CD before a LAN party (lol).

When he was 16-17 all his friends and brothers thought he could be a pro-gamer o streamer.

19:03 - 21:44 Social life (?) and regrets

When he mets a new person he doesn’t show his “true self” but when he is more comfortable he is a really funny and random person.

He is an “okay person” (xd).

At first he played League of Legends with his friends but none of them got into Overwatch so he just played casual games with them sometimes.

He didn’t go to prom and regrets it a bit.

He regrets not spending more time with his mother.

23:44 - 29:33 Mental health issues in Overwatch League

He thinks a longer break (more than 2 weeks) would be nice because they would have time to visit home. 2 weeks would be weird becuase the team can lose chemistry.

Shorter breaks means If you have a patch you can’t rest, you need to practice the new patch.

He hope teams take mental health more seriously this season.

In Season 1 most players were burned out.

He had a period where he felt like shit and lost motivation.

He hopes teams bring more staff memebers to talk with the players and help them.

Because Mayhem’s bus left at 10:30 am, their sleep schedule was “healthy”.

29:33 - 33:56 Florida Mayhem (Mental Health)

Environment was good.

Everyone was positive but he isn’t sure if they were just hiding their emotions.

Mid stage 4 they realized even if they win, the only thing they gain is experience. Eventually they got their motivation back.

OWL structure (more players, more staff...), mental health problems, the grind, etc. caught everyone off guard.

When they went to Florida he spent 3 weeks away from his computer. It’s the longest time he has been without playing, but it was refreshing.

Their vacation in Florida was amazing and everyone needed that.

33:56 - 38:15 Meeting fans and more thingies

Meeting fans is an unforgettable memory.

They met Miami Heat and the players said they play Fortnite. He isn’t a big fan of Fortnite (lol).

He didn’t know anyone. Mineral is into basketball so he knew every player.

Some fans went to every event in Florida, so they started seeing them like friends.

At first it was scary talking to fans.

Having fans is werid, but not in a bad way.

Once a fan asked him to go to prom with them (Okay wtf ahhahahah)

38:15 - 39:28 Relationships (?)

Relationships are hard, especially in OWL because you have to live in America.

He said more things but I found them pretty personal soooo watch the video if you want to know ;)

39:28 - 45:04 Tier 2 experience

His experience in T2 scene was amazing.

He lived in Canada for 2 months with Luminosity.

Back them he didn’t have any lawyer.

Mineral taught him about contracts and stuff. He was like the adult/father figure.

Mineral is the dad of the team.

He says there is a lot of shady stuff going on in lower tiers.

Lower tiers (especially T2) problems should be fixed by everyone (Blizzard, the orgs, the players, teams...)

45:04 - 47:04 Player Union

It’d be healthy for the scene. Even though It’s going to be tough, he hopes it happens.

Seagull was thought as the head of a Player Union.

Blizzard should help.

47:04 - 51:09 Some Mayhem Stuff

When he find out he wasn’t re-signed the first thing he though was “I need to find tryouts”.

He was a bit scared but kinda expected it.

Matt (Manager) told him before so it wouldn’t come out of the blue.

Coaching staff, epecially Mineral, kept their spirits high.

Everyone helped when things were hard (coaching staff, family, friends). Just by calling his father he can feel so much better.

When Mineral left they felt lost.

51:09 - 1:00:49

He thinks Koreans practice with more purpose.

Scandinavian culture don’t show emotions.

He never saw Zuppeh being angry, sad, depressed...

Zuppeh is a grinding robot.

No one on the team really gets sad, angry or depressed.

Losing was never a big problem for him. He thought the only thing he could do was play better next time.

He tried to put everything into practice to fix mistakes and get better.

When he was younger he had anger issues. He punched monitors, keyboards, everything.

He looked up to his brothers who never had anger issues or mental health issues so, around 16 years old, he learned to not care emotionally.

He has changed now and is a happy person.

Ranked is annoying (we feel you).

#manneten #video #how do i tag this so a lot of people can see it lol #florida mayhem #overwatch league #mayhem academy #now <<#*

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wallflower-willow22 · 6 years ago

Text

Innocent Rebel

My First Story

I wanted to start off by saying if you're reading this. Thank you. Just one view makes me so happy and the thought of someone liking and enjoying my work is great. Secondly, I just want to mention that this is my first time publishing a story that I've written anywhere so I am both nervous and excited. So I hope you enjoy this short story about a young girl exploring her sexuality and going beyond her limits. Thank You.

_________________________________________________________________________________

“Oh fuck” I gasped as I woke up with a start, I automatically checked my watch the illuminating blue light flashing the late 03:03 on the plastic face of my digital watch, great! I thought.

“What’s wrong? Did you not enjoy that?” she purred a coy smirk on her face as she stretched her long, long limbs, I sighed internally fuck she was a beauty to look at. Memories of the last few hours flashed through my mind like lightning.

“No.” I sighed “It was great, fabulous even just it’s probably the reason my phone is lighting up like a fucking Christmas tree”

“Ahh” she sighed in realisation, as she flopped on the bed “ I didn’t think someone as cute and innocent as you could swear…. of course, you proved me wrong”

I scoffed loudly “You barely knew me for what? A few hours. Shows you for judging a book by its cover” my favourite idiom slipped out of my mouth easily. Idiom, idiom, oh how I loved that word. If there was one thing I missed from A levels it was the vocabulary in English, the sophistication and elegance of such words just made me feel so confident and smart and empowered. Like I didn’t need physical strength; my wit and words could be my sword.

I shook my heading allowing my internal monologue to fade away like floating clouds and focused on the task at hand, my thumb hovered over my dad’s number glaring at me in the dark. I didn’t realise that whilst deep in my thoughts I had tuned out Isabelle's words,

“Lizz, Lizz, Lizz!!” she exclaimed her hands waving in front of my eyes drastically, I blinked quickly

“Huh?” I mumbled incoherently

“ Wonderful you’ve come back to earth” she muttered, “ I said what are you going to do then? And do you want me to come with you? “

I smiled shyly at the words, no don’t become hopeful, do not become hopeful please for fuck sakes don’t do this I repeated this mantra to myself (internally of course). I could feel my heart clench at the images of me and Izzy that swam in my brain like small fish. Fish. Fishy. Oh, My God, my mother is going to kill me I thought.

“I’m going to die” I answer dramatically, she rolls her eyes “ No seriously, I have one, two three, like 30 missed calls here and that’s just from my mum” I scrolled down the screen my greasy thump staining my phone. My throat closed up in fear, “ I mean if your lucky, they’ve only called family and friends but if not well let’s just say my face will be on the BBC news tomorrow morning”

“That’s a bit much, isn’t it? I mean come on when’s the last time you stayed out this late? I mean how bad could it have been?”

“Never.” I screeched “I’ve never ever been out this late, I mean the last time I was out this late, it was a New Years Eve party at my cousin's house”

“Well…” she started “and my parents were there!” her mouth opened... wide,

“What about prom? I mean you must’ve been out late then?” she questioned, I realised then how little she knew about me, unlike David or Lisa she had spent little to no time with me, she didn’t know about my family, she didn’t know about their controlling behaviour.

“Oh God, I’m never going to be allowed out again” I cry, I mean this is the last time my Grandad will ever defend me. Ever! I looked at the screen helplessly as Izzy groaned at the back in frustration, she pulled the covers back with a swish, her slippers padded softly across the room. “I’m making hot chocolate, call me when you’ve sorted it,” she said. I ogled at those small shorts that rode up her back. When she pulled her nighty down to cover her ass, her mouth opened and her arms elongated. She was the epitome of beauty and adorableness, I know it’s not a word but that’s how she looked in that moment.

I looked at my phone again noticing the +259 in my row of numbers, great they ’d told Lilly, most likely woken her up. What a great idea!. I am so dead. Dead. I took a deep breath and wondered if Izzy would let me stay at hers if they kicked me out? No. Stop. I didn't want any more negative thoughts. So I took another deep breath and clicked on the number, the phone rang for a millisecond before I heard the familiar warm voice through the device.

“Lizzie, Lizzie Where are you? It doesn’t matter are you ok? Are you safe” she interrogated me viciously non-stop but through the panic, I heard a calm but firm voice “Give me your address I’ll come to pick you up” I groaned what could I say to that? No sorry, you can’t come pick me up. So instead I replied with;

“ It got late, and I was worried you were still angry at me so I decided to stay with the friend I went out with, she lives on her own and has a spare bedroom I borrowed. She was more than happy for me to stay” Ok so... I left a few things out, like that, I could’ve been home by 22:00 or that I wasn’t exactly using her spare bedroom or that she was far more than a friend. But what they didn’t know didn’t hurt them. Right?.

I twisted my broken nail, as I ripped it from my skin in impatience “ouch” I muttered. I heard a large sigh, it’s like It was replaying in my head; the way his palm covered his face in relief and frustration at the same time, I mean it’s not like I could really blame him. Finally, he managed out

“ I’m sorry I upset you, I know you think I coddle you too much but the last time I stopped well you know what happened, your Grandad’s really worried he blames himself for letting you go out on a Friday night.”

“Are. I sighed as I faltered “Are you angry” I asked him meekly

“No just relieved your safe. You are safe. Right, Lizzie? You arere not lying to me because you think I’ll get angry? I won’t I promise”

“ No, I’m not lying Dad, I promise” I hear my mum scoff in the background and my Dad’s quiet but firm “Taylor. Stop. Now is not the time”, the volume of his voice increased “When will you come back?” he sounded so worried, it broke my heart

“Tomorrow morning, first thing, promise” I said again hoping that the repetition would increase how much I meant it, my voice was becoming muffled with my fingers stuffed in my mouth “ok, just get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.” he paused then quietly almost like a whisper murmured “Good night. Love you” click.

I gulped as my throat began to hurt and my eyes burn. Oh fuck. Not now for fuck's sake. I realised quickly I swore a lot when I was scared, almost like a reflex. So mesmerised in my conversation I hadn’t noticed Izzy leaning against the doorframe her hands nursing a purple mug of what I assumed was hot chocolate.

“So? What happened? Are you dead now? Are we in heaven or something?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes screaming Are you ok? You can speak to me. Although to be fair that may just be the English student in me.

“Yeah, not as bad as I originally thought, I’m going back tomorrow morning”

A mischievous smile played on her lips, her eyes roaming over me like a predator with her prey. “I wonder what we’ll do till then?”

“ I wonder…” her lips crashed onto mine as my hands gripped her waist like an anchor, keeping me steady against the storm, I moaned into the kiss allowing the waves of pleasure wash over me the feeling of stability and certainty giving me the peace of mind I so desperately needed, forgetting my worries if not just for a little while.

_________________________________________________________________________

I woke up with the steady beat of a catchy pop song filling my head, oh thank god I thought, not emo or rock music. I mean each to their own and everything but if I’m being honest having two friends obsessed with that depressing stuff was more than enough. Immediately two thoughts came to my mine 1) how was Lisa? It had been ages since I’d seen her, I smile as I elongate my short limbs she’d be so fucking proud of me right now.2) How fucking dead was I really? The sunlight flooded my eyes as I rushed to cover my poor light depraved eyes “ughh” I groaned

“How eloquent, what happened to the smart sophisticated women I went to bed with?” Her teasing tone growing louder as she pulled the covers off my cold, rigid body “ugghh” I repeated as I embraced my curled up figure “ too early, too much sunlight” I grunted out.

“Charming,” she said, the tap of heels moving further away. Wait a minute. Heels? I perked up, my head peeking above the quilt, my eyes watched her figure clear up and my pupils adjusted to the light. She stood still like a statue to be admired in a pencil skirt and maroon top, a black blazer, black stilettos and red bag accompanying her. “Why the fuck are you so dressed up? What’s the time? How late am I “ my pitch increased with each question as I stumbled out of bed tripping and tangling myself into the large quilt attempting to get free. finally after enough waving and tugging and grunting as I’m free from the quilt I trip and stagger into the hallway.

“Relax” she laughs “ I have an early morning meeting, it’s only 06:00 am but I have to leave. Make yourself at home and if you want we can do something when we get back. Otherwise, just leave the key under the mat and I’ll call you later? Cheerio”

Cheerio. What? I shook my head aggressively trying to wake myself up. I go to the bathroom to brush and wash and all that, my heart sinks as I realise the impending doom. I mean, I could ’ve just not gone back, but all my shit was at home. Worst case scenario I can grab all of my crap and leave. If that’s what they want.

I drag my feet to the bedroom intentionally dressing as slowly as possible, I grab my car keys from the small heart-shaped tray at the front, along with the spare keys as I went. I opened the front door and triple checked I had everything. Key check. Phone check. Handbag check. I took a deep breath and placed the spare key under the mat as she said, then stuck my headphones in and headed for the small red car that would drive me to my doom.

By Wallflower,

#first story #creative #writing #lgbtq #new #controlling family

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indigrimm · 6 years ago

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I'm paralyzed.

I glance up at the clock from my position on the couch, legs folded close to me. It's only 1 in the afternoon. I got seven hours of sleep, but I'm still tired. I'm at the point where I can't tell anymore if my body's tired or my mind. I decide I don't care and turn my eyes back to my phone.

Where are my feelings? I no longer feel things I know I should.

I'm tired. Briefly, I'm hopeful — I can tell that it's my body needing rest this time. Most days, I don't even get that far. I wind up curled up on my side, asleep, if only to smother my thoughts for a few hours. Not that falling asleep is ever easy.

It's 03:30. I sit at the table, the Uno cards in my hands just colourful enough to keep my mind from drifting. One of my cousins sits at the end, tired. She just wants to be left alone, but my brother keeps pulling her chair from the table and aggravating her.

My grandmother laughs and looks at her sister and the girl's mother, Christine.

"She's just like her, isn't she?" she says, motioning to me and drawing laughter from the others sitting at the table. I just stare down at my cards, pretending to think about which ones to play as the demons wrap their hands around my neck. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I set down a blue draw two card.

It was meant to be a joke, I know. But if the demons know, they don't care. "You're just like her," they whisper. "So negative. So exhausting to be around."

I say nothing, reveal nothing, and show nothing. "Your turn," I say, sitting back in my chair.

Suddenly, it's not just my body that's tired.

I'm paralyzed.

It's 05:00. I sit again at the foot of the couch. My mind's drawn back to a year ago.

I was sitting on the floor of the living room while my cousins ran around the room. I stared at the frost of the living room window. I was drowning. "Some things never change," the demons whisper. Some part of me realizes that they're whispering to me as I am now, curled up at the foot of the couch. I shake my head and try to pull myself back to the present, but I can't.

My phone emits a small ping and lit up, a new notification on the lock screen. I was drowning, and for once I decided to say something. I cried out and hoped someone would throw a life raft. I glance at the notification bar at the top of the screen and realize I've zoned out and missed several messages. The most recent reads, "You deserve more than you are getting."

I type in my PIN. Part of me is hopeful. Part of me regrets saying anything at all. But if I was looking for a life raft, it seemed like he had thrown me one. I hit the icon for Discord and waited as it loaded.

"Have a really good night with this and think of the many ways I could make you scream," the top message reads. Suddenly, I'm not empty. I'm just numb. I scroll up.

"You need to have something for Christmas, Indi." Part of me had already put the pictures together before I saw the picture in my messages. I hit 'close all' and locked my phone, setting it down. I realized, then, that it wasn't a life raft — it was a lasso.

It should've been a red flag, I suppose. I was drowning and he didn't care. "He had to say something," demons whisper in my ear, "you aren't worth the emotional effort to save you. He only said anything at all because you'd be hard to fuck with your lungs full of seawater."

I hold down the power button and allow my phone to shut off, wishing quietly that it could be that easy for me to shut myself off from the world.

But, because it isn't, I go on staring out of the window.

Where is the real me? I'm lost and it kills me inside.

My thoughts lock me in. It's early December 2017. My mother wanted to work on her office chair, but wanted to make sure that she didn't damage my grandmother's car. She opens the garage door and backs the car out, but the dark grey of my cousin's car just behind the garage door is lost in the sea of night. She backs into it, but leaves no scratches. No damage.

She wakes my cousin up and tells him, who in turn wakes my grandmother up and tells her. I only realize something's wrong when I hear my grandmother's screaming echoing off the houses and trees through the open window of my bedroom. Much of it's a blur. I vaguely remember my brother shoving my cousin into the kitchen counter, and threats of assault charges follow.

I threw my stuff into the car and grabbed my cat, Peaches. In the darkness of my mother's Dodge Stratus, I whisper four words into my cat's fur that I resolved to never say to another living being.

"I want to die."

I closed my eyes and let tears drip into his fur and my clothes. I let my thoughts drift to my medication and not whether I've taken it, but instead whether I have enough pills left to down all at once.

By Christmas, it's as if nothing happened. I just wish that I, too, was left with no scratches. No damage.

I'm just so paralyzed.

My mind finally relents and allows me to return to the present. It's 08:30, and I'm sitting on the floor of the basement now. We're passing a bag of gummy bears around and my cousin takes a handful, popping a few in his mouth before glancing at the bag.

"Why does this say resealable not resealable?"

After five minutes, during which I asked out of curiosity if it said 'resealable not resellable' instead, my brother chimes in.

"I don't see why you feel the need to argue over something so arbitrary. Who gives a shit?"

I bite back angrily, pointing out that it wasn't an argument until he made it one and that I gave a shit.

Twenty minutes later, my cousin asks me if I was in the car when he drove me around Evansville.

I grinned, grinding a gummy bear down between my back molars.

"Did you just ask me if I was in the car when you drove me around Evansville?" I joked, looking up at him from my position on the floor.

He shrugs and nods, smirking slightly. My uncle's husband pipes up.

"Can I throw something at her?"

I blink, turning to look at him. I'm confused as to what I've done to warrant having something thrown at me when, out of the corner of my eye, I see my brother nod.

"For arguing over the most arbitrary shit?"

I feel hollow, the hurt so strong it made me feel nauseated. Any quip I thought up got lost on my tongue and the gummy bear I had been chewing on tastes like rubber in my mouth. Briefly, I ask myself what I did to deserve being treated like this. I realized, then, that I didn't need to have done something. I was barely a person — who else would they take it out on?

A desire crosses my mind, and despite how badly I want it to be, it's not an intrusive thought — I saw a knife against my throat, dragging and digging in until it hit my vocal cords, rendering me mute. I wished it to happen. Part of me wanted to do it myself. Part of me wanted someone else to do it so for once I could be cared for, protected. I wanted to never speak again, and I wanted them to mourn.

"You shouldn't have to feel like you'd need to be attacked to be cared for and protected," a small voice piped up. A quiet voice, shouting in the void.

"I shouldn't have to do anything to be cared for and protected," I whispered, shrugging my shoulders. "But it is what it is."

I would only realize later that the small voice was reason. Logic. But until that time, I stared, dead-eyed, at the T.V, keeping my mouth shut.

I have no feelings, oh — how come I'm not moving? Why aren't I moving?

It's 11:00. I'm so tired. Of life. Of emotions. Both my mind and body need rest desperately. The hurt has given way to numb, and my limbs feel heavy.

Where is the real me? Where is the real me?

I briefly consider posting this in the SOS channel. Shaking my head, I consider the other for a brief moment before deciding to just send it to the group chat. It's 11:05 and my eyes are just as heavy as my limbs.

I'm paralyzed. I'm paralyzed. I'm paralyzed.

I've run out of memories, and I've been listening to the same song on repeat for twenty minutes. I glance at the list of people online and see grey dot after grey dot and decide that maybe it's for the best that everyone is likely asleep. It's 11:10 and, after having the link in the text bar for two minutes, I finally hit send.

#personal #i'm transferring all of my stories and poems from LJ #depression

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itsybitsyjoltik · 6 years ago

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tagged by @autumnpen !

Rules: Answer 30 questions. Tag 10 blogs you want to get to know better. nah my dudes i don’t feel like tagging anyone you can do it if you want

Nickname(s): tbh i don’t really do nicknames much. you can call me joltik if you want

Gender: what the fuck is a gender

i mean i guess i’m transmasc leaning these days/genderfluid maybe?? nonbinary as hell either way. shrug.

Sign: leo

Height: 5′4″

Current time: 9:03 PM

Favorite band(s): uhhh marianas trench, the dear hunter, fall out boy, queen

Favorite solo artist(s): pretty into carly rae jepson these days. she’s the only one i can think of off the top of my head--FUCKING UHH JANELLE MONAE CAN’T FORGET HER, SHIT

Song stuck in my head: i didn’t have any up until just this moment but i went straight from janelle monae to this bi as hell song my work plays in my thought processes just now

youtube

Last movie I saw: incredibles 2 which is a common sentiment it appears

Last show I watched: i actually have no idea, it might have been the first episode of hxh 2011 lol...it’s been a while since i’ve watched anything tv-related

When did I create my blog: sometime in 2012

What do I post: mostly a random combination of reblogs - multifandom, mainly hxh, taz, and ace attorney...political shit, shit that i find funny. i queued up a shitton of we know the devil posts a while back bc i’d just replayed that game and was having Feelings, but i think my queue ran out or is just about out by now. i have various sideblogs that i use now and then that are more specific in nature, but i kinda just run this blog for myself, you know?

original posts are mostly just...art i’ve drawn, shitposts, occasionally meta.

Last thing I googled: oh jeez i looked up something about how the mcelroys and lin manuel miranda met bc i was talking about them with my roommate, lol

Do I have other blogs: uhhhh

i guess the sideblogs of note (ie the ones with any real likelihood of ever getting posts at this point lol) are @catsthatlooklikekillua + @allukaesthetic + @bullshithxhthings + @hxhgirls

i also have a secret ns/fw sideblog that i guess you could ask for off anon if you really want it (if you’re 18+....) but i’m pretty self conscious about it lol

Do I get asks: occasionally but not much lately tbh

Why did I choose my url: needed a change from my old url (doesn’t help that it was based off my deadname), i like joltik and i thought a play on “the itsy bitsy spider” would be fun

Following: 547 currently

Followed by: 833 on my main blog, which is by far the most for any of my blogs

Average hours of sleep: uhh 7-9 i think

Lucky number: 8! (if anyone thinks this is a vriska thing it’s been my lucky number since i was a little kid lol)

Instruments: absolutely not lol (i’ve tried to learn piano before and it’s been a disaster)

What I’m wearing: olive green rowlet t-shirt, light blue cutoff denim shorts, black and white otk socks that i’m currently wearing like kneehighs

Dream job: i’d love to be a translator for like games or anime/manga or something but my japanese is still nowhere near good enough

Favorite food: okonomiyaki....

Nationality: united states

Favorite song: masterpiece theatre iii by marianas trench, i’ll blast either that entire album or that song in particular on repeat when i’m feeling anxious

Last book I read: does a cookbook count lol...or a manga...or a fanfic...it’s been so goddamn long since i’ve read an actual book i’m a disgrace

Top 3 fictional universes I want to join: jesus i don’t know. pokemon obvs but other than that? hm you know, steven universe probably wouldn’t be too bad, there’s a bit of danger occasionally but beach city seems pretty chill. and then the taz balance setting is. actually pretty dangerous considering the whole relic situation followed by THE APOCALYPSE but you know what i’d probably go for it anyway

Tagging: if you want to do this meme, feel free to consider yourself tagged

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waitingtobeimpressed · 7 years ago

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Do I Wanna Know?

Sweetpea x Reader

So I sorta had an idea to create small imagines based on songs. I'm happy to take requests and if you guys could give me any ideas that would be great.

Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

Have you got colour in your cheeks? Do you ever get that feelin' that you can't shift the tide That sticks around like summat's in your teeth

Ah, there's some aces up your sleeve Have you no idea that you're in deep I dreamt about you nearly every night this week

How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow When I play it on repeat Until I fall asleep Spilling drinks on my settee

(Do I wanna know?) If this feeling flows both ways (Sad to see you go) Was sorta hoping that you'd stay (Baby we both know) That the nights were mainly made for saying Things that you can't say tomorrow day

Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of calling when you've had a few?

'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through

Crawling back to you

So have you got the guts? Been wondering if your heart's still open and If so I wanna know what time it shuts Simmer down and pucker up I'm sorry to interrupt it's just I'm constantly On the cusp of trying to kiss you I don't know if you feel the same as I do

But we could be together if you wanted to

Crawling back to you

Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? (calling when you've had a few) 'Cause I always do ('cause I always do)

Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through

Crawling back to you, (do I wanna know?) If this feeling flows both ways (Sad to see you go) Was sorta hoping that you'd stay (Baby we both know) That the nights were mainly made for saying Things that you can't say tomorrow day

(Do I wanna know?) Too busy being yours to fall (Sad to see you go) Ever thought of calling darling? (Do I wanna know) Do you want me crawling back to you?

Sweet Pea shot awake, panting heavily, sweat-slick across his forehead. Another fucking nightmare. They wouldn't have been so bad if they were about a crazed killer or a monster chasing him through the woods, but these nightmares had actually happened, tormenting him day and night, never stopping and constantly on a loop. He sighed and looked over at the alarm clock, time reading at 03:27. Great, he thought. Now even if he did want to go the school in the morning, which he definitely did not, he would be in no shape to wake up, shower and dress without being severely late, which would draw more unwanted attention to him. A few weeks ago he couldn't have cared less what the other students at southside thought about him because the only thing he cared about was Y/N And she held the only opinion he cared about.

He could start to feel the effects of the alcohol pound against his skull, causing him to heave and curl his muscled body into the fetal position. Why am I such a fucking idiot? He thought. He hated himself for what he did. He broke the only girl he had ever loved, his best friend, his girl, Y/N. Now he was a drunken mess having a pity party all on his lonesome. Toni had been spending all of her time with Y/N, completely icing him out, he knew he deserved it though. Fang’s was the only one talking to him but only because ‘No serpent stands alone’ even if that certain serpent happens to be a complete asshat.

The familiar sound of a phone vibrating forced Pea to slowly uncurl and strain to reach the device that was on his bedside table without moving more than he had to. He guessed it would be fangs calling to make sure he was still alive, which he personally didn't know the answer to, Sweets turned the phone on and hissed as the bright light burnt his already bloodshot eyes. Once his eyes adjusted a pang of dread forced its way through his body, making his scramble out of the bed and onto his feet, instantly regretting his decision as his head starting to spin. He glanced down again to make sure his drunkenness wasn't playing cruel tricks on him. It wasn't.

2 missed calls from Y/N at 03:30

Y/N/N: Sweet Pea, Whats going on? Time: 03:32

Y/N/N: Why the Hell have you called me 12 times!? Time: 03:35

Missed call from Y/N at 03:36

Y/N/N: okay I'm worried now, I'm coming over. And I swear if you're not dead I'm going to kill you myself. Time: 03:39

Sweet peas eyes widened with shock and horror. Why was she coming here and when did I call her 12 times?. All at once it dawned on him that he must have drunk called her. A mix of emotions surged through his body, causing the wind to be knocked out of his chest. The memory of what he did still fresh in his mind from the nightmare. He collapsed onto the floor next to his bed, burying his head in his lap. He knew what was going on and he also aware that there was nothing he could do now to stop it. He was having a panic attack. He knew this because it had happened once before. the night his friendship with Y/N ended.

Y/n had walked this way to Sweets’ place close to a million times but never had she been this worried. Never. She sprinted the last long narrow piece of the path before the trailer park. The place that she spent so many of the summer night lounging around with her best friend. The place she had had her first kiss. The place she had first confessed her burning feelings. The place she had been rejected, humiliated and heartbroken. That was two weeks ago, two god damned weeks ago her life had been perfect, and now look at her. She was a mess. Smudged mascara illuminating her dark circles. Her Pale skin somehow becoming even paler, showing the constellation of blonde freckles that were scattered across the whole of her face. These freckles being the ones Sweetpea used to trace when she had fallen asleep in his arms when they were having a movie night.

Now look at her, she was broken.

Y/N ducked into the trailer park and made a B-line for his trailer. The one that was glowing feverishly due to the faint fairy lights that she had draped all around it. Why has he taken them down? When she had first put them up he said that he had hated then but she begged him to keep them, and he complied saying the only reason he was doing it was that he loved her. That obviously wasn't the case now though.

She walked up the crappy steps with more caution then she had ever done so before. Before this, she wouldn't even think twice about jumping up them and making as much noise as she possibly could, even at this time of night. She knocked on the door and waited a few minutes. Nothing.

She knocked again and still to no avail. She tried for the handle and as usual, it was unlocked, which was stupid really because with the ongoing war with the North Siders and the Ghoulies Sweetpea would be a prime target, Head of the snake and all that...

Y/N pulled open the door and the smell of cheap alcohol instantly burnt its way up her nostrils, forcing her to take a step back.

“Sweet Pea, you here?” She called out, not seeing him in the darkness of his sitting room. Not that there were any hiding places anyway. She stepped deeper into the trailer, her lungs begging her not to. How could he stand it in here?

She walked down into the long narrow passageway which leads to sweet peas bedroom, her converse clad feet rubbing against the laminated floor. She stopped dead in her tracks once she reached his door pressing her ear to it. She could hear something that was almost inaudible. It sounded like crying?

Y/N lightly pushed the door she that she had a clear view of him. He was on the floor, leaning against the thin wall. His head was resting on his knees with his long arms covering him, almost like someone was kicking the shit out of him. Like she wants to. His chest heaved erratically as his salty tears ran down his cheeks and onto his bedroom carpet. Her eyes softened once she saw how much pain he was in.

Y/N walked into the room and sat on the edge of Peas bed. Crossing her legs underneath her she reaches out for one of her hands that was covering his head. He was shaking fear and what she might say or do. His skin was ice cold even though his body felt like it was on fire. She took his trembling hand, caressing it lightly with her thumbs.

“Sweetpea, look at me,” She said softly, he shook his head and wrapped his remaining hand even tighter around himself like he was trying to hide raw, vulnerable emotions from her gaze.

Y/N dropped his heavy hand onto her lap as she scooted closer to the side, boxing his curled up body between her legs. He didn’t move his hand away, mainly due to the fact that once Y/N had repositioned herself she had grabbed it again softly and hugged it close to her body.” Sweets I can't help until you look at me, and trust me I would rather be sleeping” He thought about moving, but if he did and she saw him like this everything would change. Not even Y/N had seen him cry before, not even when his parents left. Y/N sighed, she once again let go of Sweet peas hand and reached to pull his other one off of his body. He didn't fight her, he was too tired and just didn't really care about anything anymore, he believed that he had lost that right.

Y/N place her now shaking hands on either side of his wet face slowly dragging him up to meet his gaze. His face was patchy with red blotches, his tears still freely falling. He quickly moved his hand in an effort to wipe the tears away, still refusing to look up at Y/N in her eyes. Y/N let go of his face once she was sure he wouldn't shy away from her again and trapped his large hands in her own. She tilted his head up so he no choice but to look at her. “ Its okay to feel stuff Sweetness” Y/N whispered looking at him in the eyes. “ you don't need to keep it all bottled it, you’re not a soulless monster”

Sweets choked on his tears again and Y/N stood up, using all of her strength to pull him up with her. She wrapped her arms around his waist tightly and he hugged her back.” I I-I'm sorry” he managed to stutter through the tears. He ducked his head into the crook of Y/N’s neck.” I Ca-cant do this anymore” he finally let out, hugging her even tighter.

“Well i hope you cant, because if you even think about drinking this much again its probably going to kill you” she shrugged her shoulders knowing full well that's not what he was talking about. “ now get into bed, ill be back in a sec” She stated and forced him to at least sit on his bed. She went to walk out of the room but he panicked and grabbed her hand as she walked past him.

“Please, I need to explain, please don’t leave me” Y/N smiled at him, nodding her head wiping the last of the tears that were still lingering in his brown eyes.

“Pea, I was just going to get some painkillers for you” He shook his head but instantly regretted it. The room starts to spin again. He pulled her closer to him so she was standing between his legs, pushing his head into her stomach.

He sighed, wishing he was still as drunk as he was earlier, needing the extra confidence. “ I have been in love with you since the first day of south side high when you told the ghoulies exactly where they could stick it.”

“why didn't you ever say anything, you absolute asshole,” Y/N said as she slapped him on the back.

“I thought we would change that you would hate me, that we could never go back, “ he said as he dragged her down and threw her onto the bed next to him.

“You see Sweetpea, that the whole beauty of it, I would have said I felt the same and we could have avoided with the whole ordeal...” Y/N said with bitterness lacing her words.

Sweetpea moved closer placing his head back in the crook of her neck, winding his arms around her, vowing then and there that he would never let her go again.” I'm an idiot, Y/N you should have probably known that by now.”

Y/N smiled and mimicked his actions, “yeah, probably” And for the first time ever sweets kissed her without an inch of fear of rejection, without the fear that he was going to totally fuck up the girl he has loved for years.

Sorry if it was shit but I did this all in the space of a night and I really wanted to get it finished, Again if you would like to request and song for an image I would love to hear them.

South-Side-Soul

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea riverdale #sweetpea x reader #riverdale #riverdale imagines #southside serpents

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