#the thing i keep thinking is ��they should give her white eyes to emote like batman” and thank goodness they did later

[andstuffsketches]

girl who lives in a cave

[ponderingmoonlight]

Can we get a yuta x fem!reader where he saves reader in Shibuya just in time after not seeing her this whole year?

sounds like a plan to me, let's do it hehe

Yuta saving your ass in Shibuya

Pairing: Yuta x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,7k

Synopsis: You have enough. After fighting for multiple hours in Shibuya, you are the brink of giving up your life, of giving up the pondering about a future with Yuta. Little do you know he's already on his way to Shibuya...

Warnings: language, TW! reader accepts the threat of death (and kinda wants to die), angst but comfort, not fully proofread

„Fuck!“, you cry on top of your lungs, bruised fingertips digging themselves into the debris underneath.

You are so damn tired. Tired of the horrible things you had to endure on this cursed evening, tired of all the senseless fighting, tired of death crawling up your spine. Maybe you just have to realize that your time has come, that you’ll be next. After all those people losing their lives today, it’s finally your turn.

“I’ve done enough”, you mutter to yourself.

The countless creatures in front of you cry out while storming towards you again. The people behind you scream in horror, so scared of dying that it wrenches your heart.

Why? Why do you have to be so damn emotional about this, so wrecked by their helplessness? You shouldn’t bother about their fate at all, should just sit here and await your very own relief in silence.

But instead, you lift yourself back up and draw your sword. Again and again, you slash into their bodies, paint the town around you in purple. Every fiber of your being begs you to stop, to just run away and never return, to sit down and let them slice your head off to end this madness once and for all.

It was definitely easier when he was still around. Yuta Okkotsu, special grade, probably the strongest after Satoru.

And the boy you hopelessly fell in love with until he decided to leave you behind. It’s been a year since you’ve last seen him, a year since you really talked to each other. Damn, how much you wished to see him one more time before you die, to at least tell him about your unwavering feelings. Why the hell are you so attached to him after all this time anyway?

But Yuta Okkotsu isn’t enough. The unsaid words between you two aren’t enough motivation to keep going after you’ve seen Nanami die, after both of Toge’s arms got sliced off, after Sukuna almost killed you.

No. You are so damn tired of it all. Fuck your pathetic life, fuck those people you don’t even know.

“I…I can’t…do…it…anymore”, you huff out.

Like in slow motion, your bloody blades glides out of your weak grip, falling onto the ground with a loud clinking.

This is it. Your final moment on this earth. Maybe that huge curse will bite your head off and let it all end quickly. Hopefully you wake up somewhere nice, maybe at a beach or something. And maybe, just maybe, your brain is able to trick you one last time into thinking that he’s here, that he thought about you as well, that Yuta Okkotsu didn’t forget about your existence.

Just a single moment and it will be over. Just one last breath in this cursed place.

You allow yourself to close your eyes, the desperate cries for help fading into the background. The pain that holds your body, all the horrible things you’ve seen…You smile to yourself gently while sitting down. It’s finally over. Now you’re finally able to rest.

And so you wait in silence for their sharp teeth, for them to finally slice your head off. But something seems off…You furrow your eyebrows. What has gotten into this thing? Is it full already? No, these monsters never get enough. It has to me something else.

“Hey, are you alright?”

You hold your breath, eyes snapping open in an instant. That familiar voice, that white uniform…You glare straight into the stranger’s face.

But no, that isn’t a stranger.

This is Yuta Okkotsu.

“(y/n), is that really you? What were you doing here? That curse could have killed you!”

His words don’t fully reach your ears, cries of the curse who gets eaten alive by Rika ringing in your ears. This can’t be true. He…He wasn’t even on the continent. How did he get here? And why on earth is he standing right in front of you?

Suddenly thick anger rises up your chest. Anger because he your left without really telling you. Anger because he didn’t write or reply to your messages frequently, anger because Yuta never seemed to fully care about you after the year you’ve spent together, after the secret kiss you’ve shared. And now he’s standing in front of you with that single droplet of sweat running down his face, asking what you are doing here.

“You have some fucking nerve”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

You lift your trembling figure off the ground, pushing him backwards with all the strength you have left only to stumble over your worn-out legs.

“You disappear for a whole damn year, never really care about me and then you ask my what I’m doing here!? Do you want to know what I did? I tried to save these people, tried to justify the countless dead jujutsu sorcerers, tried to free Gojo-sensei! What were you doing all this time, why didn’t you even ca-“

With a swift motion, he gets down and wraps his arms around you, cages you against his body. No, you don’t want to be near him, you need to get away, you…

Can’t help but cry.

“Why did you leave me here without saying anything?”, you mutter desperately, fists banging weakly against his chest.

Fuck, why does it have to feel so comforting, why do you have to realize just how much you missed him and the way he holds you? Why does it have to be so damn hard to stay mad at him when all you need right now is a big comforting hug?

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for all those things. When I heard what happens here in Shibuya, when no one could tell me that you’re safe…On my flight back here I regretted over and over that I didn’t have the guts to tell you how I feel”, he whispers against your bloody ear.

“Please tell me you’re alright, tell me I wasn’t too late”, he begs.

Gently, he lifts up your face, forces you to get lost in his blue eyes. Oh, how badly you want to push him away, tell him to leave this place and let you die. But instead, you just stare at him, watch how he scans your body, your countless injuries.

“How long have you been fighting here alone?”, he mutters.

“4 hours. Maybe a little longer. I lost count some time ago”, you mumble, tired eyes still set on him.

He looks so different from when you last saw him. How is it even possible to turn from a boy to a man in the matter of one year? His chest seems wider, jawline even sharper, eyes clearer than ever before. But what changed the most is the way he carries himself. The man in front of you isn’t insecure and fearful. No, he seems absolutely aware of his immense powers, killing of that grade 1 curse with ease.

“You look shocked.”

“I definitely am. After all, a ghost is talking to me”, you reply dryly.

What hasn’t change is the fact that his eyes seem to be the mirror of his feelings, instantly filling with sorrow by the sound of your harsh tone.

“I didn’t want to leave you behind. But…I had no other choice, (y/n)! I owed it to myself and Riko-“

“Oh, so now it’s Rika and you, huh?”, you bark.

Enough. You stand up faster than expected, shooting back up only to lose balance and falling back into Yuta’s open arms.

“Hey, slow down. You have to be exhausted.”

“Yes. Yes I am fucking exhausted. Exhausted from that senseless fighting, exhausted from hearing your excuses! What was the real reason you just left me in the dark? Was it because of Rika, because you don’t care about me like that? You should have thought about that before you kissed me the night before you went to different continent-“

“Trust me, I thought about you all the time, I loved you all the time, (y/n)! It was just as hard for me as it was to you. The last thing I wanted was to leave after that night, but I had no other choice. It was my only chance to train properly, to get the best of me. If I could, I would have taken you with me straight away. But I couldn’t. And I’ll probably never forgive myself for leaving you alone in this mess, for almost losing you!”

He grabs your face passionately, makes you forget how to breathe. Is this really Yuta Okkotsu talking to you? Is this really Yuta Okkotsu leaning closer, his lips only inches away from yours.

“I loved you through everything, (y/n). And I hope you did as well.”

“Are you serious?”, you breathe out, staring at him in sheer disbelief.

“You were the only thing on my mind all this time. You and…that I never told you that I love you”, you blurt out.

You aren’t even able to turn away from him. In the matter of seconds, his lips are pressed against yours. Just like the last time you’ve seen each other, just like he did at his dorm a year ago. Sparks fly, your heart shivers in sheer excitement. Oh, you’ll definitely not forget that he just left you, that he didn’t message you on a regular basis.

But at the moment, you just close your eyes and let the sensation of his hands caressing your face while his lips brush over yours so tenderly sink in. Just a few minutes ago, you were kneeling on the ground, ready to let yourself get killed here in Shibuya. And now he’s here. The countless nights you pondered when he’ll come back, how he’ll act, how he’ll look.

When reality is so much better.

“I promise that I’ll never leave you again. I’ll make it up to you”, he mumbles against your parted lips.

“I sure hope so.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi@weebotaku21@chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez@belovedvamp@wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82

[lavendermin]

the lovers, reversed | stellaron hunter sunday

pairing | sunday x fem!reader

wc | 1.6k

genre | angst, one sided love, unrealized feelings

warnings | mdni, alcohol mention, brief mention of sex, blood, wounds, unhealthy relationship, spoiler I guess if sunday really does end up being a stellaron hunter (have not yet played 2.3)

Fresh wounds, a few gashes. Nothing he couldn't treat. Because you wouldn't have anyone else though Firefly has always offered.

"Hold still," Sunday quietly instructs as steady hands work quickly to disinfect and dress unsightly marred skin.

You wince and clutch the sheets until your knuckles turn white. The pain was never easy, but a consequence of your recklessness nonetheless.

Under deft fingers you're all skin, no shame. Not when it's him.

Another whimper you can't suppress escapes your lips, and maybe it finally breaks something in him because you hear him sigh quietly. With his teeth he swiftly pulls off one of his gloves and holds it to your lips.

"Bite down on this," he instructs, voice calm and level. "There's still debris in one of the gashes. I have to take them out one by one."

You can only nod, not registering much else as the pain has your vision tunneling. It's another twenty minutes as he tries to work as quickly as possible. It takes everything to keep his composure despite your muffled cries of discomfort.

"This should have been done in the medical wing." Sunday's reprimand has little to no bite as he clears the medical supplies from the coffee table he had pulled up from across your room.

Your breath is weak and shaky, but still a gentle thing he's used to. "Too bright in there. Makes me feel like a lab rat within those white walls."

"Smells too clean?" he chuckles. Something he can't help around you more recently. There's an innocent and peculiar way you view things. Much like–

Sunday shuts the cabinet in your bathroom a bit harsher than he intended. He can't think of her... not right now. It would only bring emotions he didn't need to process—couldn't process at the moment.

There's red on his hands, on his clothes, staining his once pristine gloves. The awful metallic smell feels like it’s burned into his nostrils—a nauseating mix of crimson and the strong smell of sterilizers as he cleans the tools. His hands work on their own under the running water of your sink, almost out of body as his mind wanders. There’s a slight tremble he catches. Pathetic, he thinks, unable to keep it together in such a dire time.

The 'script' did not mention anything of a necessary death, but of course it would never detail wounds or misfortunes in detail. Some of those just come with the job. And sometimes he would feel a bubbling anger at the twisted fates that often befell you. But he knows it's a spiral that leaves him down a foggy road, one he shouldn't tread on.

Still, you're alive, and he's here. And for now, that's enough.

Your strained voice pulls him back to his body. Back to the present with a clearer head.

Right. The painkillers.

Sunday is quickly back by your side, pushing the small pill past your lips and lifting your face gently to give you water.

"You forgot," you tease despite your hoarse voice.

And those golden eyes you love dearly can't even bear to look at you as he sits next to you on the bed. There's no response other than a halfhearted hum he gives you. You know he didn't forget, and his lack of correction knowing how matter-of-fact he is only further sinks your heart.

But you don't get to tell your heart who to love.

The now-wrinkled glove he gave you is placed next to his leg. "Sorry I messed up. I'll buy you a new pair."

"Thank you..."

"You're wel-"

"You should say ‘thank you’. For the gesture. But don't apologize for the inevitable from missions. What's done is done," Sunday interrupts, voice firm. A little cold.

"I-" You're cut off as he grabs your wrist, his eyes unfocused as he looks at the ground.

"If you had done as I said– You could have gone missing. A lot of things could have gone wrong. Don't use yourself as bait. If anything happens to me, you escape by any means necessary. Understand?"

The grip is a little less than comfortable and you can only nod. Obedient only if it was his words that commanded. It brought a feeling he didn't want to describe rushing through his chest. The way your eyes looked at him—a mix of fear and blind adoration. It made him nauseous to consider himself worthy of such affection.

The morals of why he kept you by his side—of why he sought you during moments of his own damned weakness... He would dwell on that another time. If his morals were in a slow decline, perhaps he would even turn to burn the words stuck in his throat with the liquid he once detested and swore would never stain his lips. The liquid courage might bring him tumbling into your arms, an eagerness to be held and soothed for the sin he feels tainted with.

That maybe in his drunken stupor with his face buried in your neck and his throbbing frustration filling you up, he would realize even in nothingness, there is you. Always you.

A rebound. A close second. A replacement.

Sunday subconsciously has been latching onto you. It’s something he doesn’t remember starting, something he can’t stop nor explain. You, who are like an injured little dove to him, easily hurt and predictable in seeking comfort with his presence.

At first he firmly tried to keep his distance, remain cordial. But now… You provide him some psychological need to keep his same routine from before or have some semblance of familiarity amidst this new path he's been set on. This relationship was just something platonic, he swears by this. Just an innate need to protect and guide you since you were also a clumsy new recruit.

You couldn't help it—falling for him. Slowly being consumed by an infatuation that morphed into a hopeful yearning that filled your chest with a syrupy thickness of strong emotions you were inexperienced with.

And Sunday was at a loss. That wasn't part of the plan. Well…granted he didn't have much of a plan with you. The platonic acquaintance he had built with you was nothing more than for his own gratification. His desperate attempt at normalcy. Someone to fill the void of not being able to see his dear sister.

Still... you're so willing to just give and give and give to him. Anything, for even the slightest possibility of returned affection. Even if you don't outright confess to him, he sees it. In your actions, your speech, your eyes.

Would it truly be so bad to take that which is offered in earnest?

A heart in his hands with nothing to show for it. Lies to himself that this closeness is his attempt to bring you salvation. To settle your heart.

He knows how your script ends, looming over his consciousness. Testing his heart as if he were a newborn god stumbling over his first creation meeting its written demise. Some part of him is too scared to ask if you know it, too. Maybe there's still some naïveté in him if he believes for a second that you don't. A hope that your heart remains innocent and lovely and–

For now Sunday lets you love. It would be a bitter thing to not take the heart you have handed to him.

The painkillers have started to work, your body finally able to sleep for a bit after he changed your soiled sheets from treating your wounds. Before he leaves, Sunday presses his lips to your knuckles and idles for a few moments to watch your steady breathing. Sweat glistens on your brow from the exertion the wound treatment put on your body. Your endurance was nothing to be laughed at.

Sunday doesn't need to turn to know who's outside your door when he leaves.

"Was there something you needed?" The question lacks any warmth.

Kafka chuckles where she leans against the wall, fiddling with a card in her hands. "Here to drop off your compensation for the mission and look after the little lamb," she replies simply, throwing the card to him. He catches it between two fingers. "She lost her phone this past mission so make sure to give her that card for the time being."

Sunday's eyes narrow. "I'm looking after her."

"Poor thing sent me a message asking that I check in on her so she won't bother you. Unless that's a problem?" Her unreadable smile is something Sunday is growing to detest.

"Not necessary. I'll be handling it." His voice is firm, a warning woven into his tone with careful consideration. A natural habit from his years as the head of the Oak Family.

"Really now? If you don't want me looking after her due to trust issues then Bladie can–"

"No." Sunday can feel his heart pounding in his ears, a frustration deep-set in his veins at the pure thought of someone that isn't him near you when you're at your most vulnerable. He wishes he could wipe that smile off Kafka's face. Victim of her teasing again. Remember your composure, a conditioned mind rings. With a clear of his throat, he continues, "No, that won't be necessary. I've already cleared my schedule to ensure her wounds are looked after so there isn't any scarring. I'll take care of it."

Kafka relents and pats his shoulder as she passes him. "Very well, birdie. Sounds like you have our little lamb's heart in your pocket. Or perhaps it's your own?"

Before Sunday can ask her what she means, she's already vanished from his sight. His hand reaches into his jacket pocket when he feels something rigid and pulls out a card he's sure she placed there.

A tarot card depicting a dove perched on a lamb. The lovers.

[talesofesther]

I guess that's love

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Wednesday sees herself stuck in the memory of one night; the night you almost died. She feels it's her fault, your blood on her hands says as much.

A/N: This is loosely based on Can't Pretend by Tom Odell and After Hours by The Weeknd which was suggested by the lovely @abelvrla. Also, I think it's valid to say that this story is mostly me having fun with some of my favorite tropes, so idk if this turned out kinda bad or similar to any of my other works; but I do hope you can enjoy it anyway. <3

Word count: 4,5k of feelings.

Masterlist

It's red. All she sees is red.

It stains the white porcelain of the sink before going down the drain.

Blood never bothered Wednesday, one could say she enjoyed the sight of it.

Now, she's almost rubbing her hands raw. It's a hurried motion, she brushes the soap over her palm with urgency, clawing at her own skin under the running water; yet it's still there.

She feels a little nauseated. Maybe it's because her breathing is all over the place. Sometimes too fast; sometimes not fast enough, clogged up in her throat.

She washes. And washes. And… keeps washing. The skin of her hands becomes reddish. The blood — your blood — eventually, finally fades.

But does it really? Wednesday feels the stain to be permanent.

Looking down at her hands — her vision a little blurry but she doesn't think about that — she catches herself shaking. Her chest is impossibly tight, it hurts to feel the beating of her own heart.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to dread your death?

She's disoriented when she exits the bathroom, not registering immediately where she is. The white walls of the hospital hurt her eyes.

It's been such a long night.

Is it still night?

The tie around Wednesday's neck seems to be choking her. She reaches her hands up to loosen it, but the feeling doesn't go away. She discards the garment altogether.

That's when she notices the blood stains on the cuffs of her white shirt. She curses under her breath. She wants to throw up. Or change out of these ruined clothes, but it feels like a waste of time.

"…nesday? Wednesday!"

She looks up upon hearing the calls of her name, only to see Principal Weems regarding her with evident worry. She's a little paler than usual, the night definitely hasn't been kind to her either.

There are only a few doctors walking around, some of them give Wednesday a strange look as they pass her by. A pungent smell of disinfectant hangs in the air. The sky outside the window bleeds in soft shades of dark purple and orange — the sun is already rising to a new day.

"You need to get checked out too, follow me." Weems reaches out to Wednesday's shoulder, trying to guide her to an empty room.

Wednesday ignores it, shrugging off the hand on her shoulder. "Where is she?"

Weems avoids her eyes then, sighing exasperatedly because she knows arguing will lead her nowhere; "she's being treated, we'll be able to see her soon."

"I want to see her now," Wednesday states, before walking past Larissa without even knowing which door she should go to.

"She's in surgery, miss Addams," Weems insists, finality in her tone. "We'll only make things worse going there now."

It's funny, how you've always told Wednesday she should put herself out there more, not be afraid to feel or let people close. Yet now you only prove her right in her reasoning that emotions only exist to torture people. Not in a good way.

But she did it anyway, didn't she?

She allowed herself to feel things.

Wednesday is frozen to the pristine tiles, her nails almost piercing her skin as she clenches her fists.

"I'm worried too, but all we can do now is wait," Weems softens once she notices the shaking of Wednesday's body. She takes a careful step closer to the girl, "if you don't want to see a doctor come back to the school with me, take a shower, put some clean clothes on. I'll drive you back when we're allowed to see her."

—

The warm water soothed Wednesday's muscles, it washed away the dried blood from her hair and the dirt clinging to her skin. It was relieving.

She's now standing in front of the bathroom mirror and the reflection staring back at her is not one she easily recognizes. Her skin looks paler than usual — if that's even possible — there are dark circles around her eyes and even she has to admit she looks exhausted.

Wednesday reaches a hand to touch her abdomen, nimble fingers tracing the spot that should be ripped open but isn't. Not even a scar remains; no telltales that she had been stabbed just a few hours ago.

She shivers at the thought. Death's cold embrace is a little more taunting when seen up close.

For a fleeting second, Wednesday catches herself planning to go to your room — as she usually did most nights before she pushed you away. She would sit beside you on your bed, her shoulder would brush yours and she'd comment about how you could even sleep in a bed this small, yet she wouldn't pull away. She'd talk with you about how good it felt to drive a knife into the old pilgrim's heart. Maybe she'd even tell you she had been scared. Maybe you'd try to hold her hand and she'd let you, gripping you tighter than she should.

Your comfort was Wednesday's most prized secret. You were her favorite broken rule.

The salty taste of a tear on her lips brings Wednesday back to reality. The reality where she doesn't have a single scar on her body and you're in a hospital bed fighting to stay alive.

She dries her cheeks harshly, turning around to put on her sweater and dark pants.

—

It's 6 PM when Principal Weems brings her back to the hospital and Wednesday is finally allowed into your room.

There's a stillness to it that she hates. You are too still. Several tubes are attached to your body as you lay on the hospital bed, there are bandages around your torso, some of them faintly tainted red. The machine that tracks your heartbeat is beeping in a lazy rhythm.

Wednesday doesn't dare breathe as she walks closer, stopping right beside you so she can cast over each scrape on your skin.

There was too much blood loss, Weems had told her moments ago. Wednesday knew that, she was the one who kept what was left of your blood inside your body until the ridiculously slow help finally arrived.

Weems also told her the bullet was short of doing major damage, and that despite now being weak, you were lucky and should wake up within a few days.

It does absolutely nothing to set Wednesday's heart at ease.

You're too still.

She can barely see your chest moving with the soft breathing. Your features are so serene, so emotionless. She could say you're dead if she didn't know any better.

Wednesday doesn't move for several moments, it's almost as if she's afraid to. She holds herself stiff at your side, glaring at you as if you'd wake up only to hear her scolding.

She hates that this is the first time she's been this close to you, in what? Two or three weeks?

It feels unfair, unfitting. Like it's all wrong.

But she can't complain. It's her fault.

A vain attempt at keeping you safe. Maybe it only made things worse;

—

"You know, as far as dates go, this is pretty creative," you told her, dodging fallen logs and rocks as you walked amongst the woods.

Wednesday turned back to look at you with an unreadable expression, "no one said this was a date."

"What would you call it then?"

"Investigating."

You groaned, falling into step beside Wednesday. Just so you could see the heavenly way the moonlight shaped her features. There was fog in the cold air, trees nothing but dark silhouettes around you; it suited her. "You're no fun."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Wednesday felt your hand brushing hers. She hated how it made her focus waver. "Besides, you're the one who agreed to accompany me."

"Of course I did," you explained easily, "you asked me to."

Wednesday gulped, things felt more intimate than they should when the only witnesses around you are trees.

"Why was that?" You dared take hold of her hand then, your cold fingertips closing around her own. She stopped abruptly, and you observed the way her shoulders tensed. "You say you don't need anyone, yet here I am."

Wednesday's breath turned shallow, she didn't feel like looking at you. Because you were right, it was a break in her pattern; her rules.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to break her rules?

You came to stand before her, your other hand taking hold of her free one so you could pull her closer. And she let you. Another step and any left space between you will vanish.

"Why won't you tell me?" You asked for what felt like the millionth time, but you didn't really hope for an answer.

You're familiar with her. She allows you close; you hold her hand, you touch her cheek, you braid her hair. Yet she never tells you why she allows you to do it.

Wednesday kept her eyes focused somewhere on your lips, counting the specks of color there, still as a corpse.

She saw the ghost of a smile that came to your lips before you leaned closer. And alarms were blaring inside her head, her lungs aching because of how she refused to breathe; yet she didn't move away.

You kissed her softly, gently. Your lips mapped hers in a way that felt like it always should've been.

And she melted against you, her hands clutching yous.

But as all things do, as Goody warned her time and time again; it didn't last. Shockwaves cursed through Wednesday's body and she was taken to another reality.

A reality where you were screaming her name in one second, and the next you were laying on the dirty ground, a pool of blood forming under you.

Wednesday jumped away from you the second she came back to herself, her eyes wide and breathing frantically as she strived to not pass out from what she'd just witnessed in her mind.

You were speaking, trying to reach out for her again as you asked what was wrong.

Wednesday felt her eyes sting, all she could see was your blood on her hands.

—

Her vision from that night came back in the form of nightmares for many nights after. Getting Wednesday to start dreading sleep.

She remembers warning you to never come near her again just before she sprinted away, leaving you alone in the woods with no further explanation. She avoided you, accepting the fact you might hate her, but it was okay because you'd be doing it alive.

All in vain, because her vision became a reality anyway.

"How could you be so stupid?" Wednesday tells you, but only the hospital walls hear it. "Jumping in front of me like that, it was ridiculous. Don't you see it? That's why you should've stayed away."

It's useless, you won't wake up to hear her complaints.

Wednesday exhales sharply and turns away from you, "it shouldn't have happened, I tried to-" There's a lump in her throat, it tangles her words, "but you're so stubborn… If you die before me, I'll kill you, I will-"

I don't know what I'll do. Wednesday thinks to herself. She sits on the chair that's beside your bed, watching through the window as the sun hides behind Jericho's mountains.

"You're missing your stupid sunset," Wednesday finds herself whispering. A last attempt at getting you to open your eyes, because for some reason, you liked to see the ending of sunny days.

Nothing happens. You remain still. The beeping tracking your heart rate is still slow. The room remains too quiet.

Wednesday leans back on her chair, she stays motionless for several minutes; until her hand eventually finds you.

Wednesday wraps her fingers around the pulse point on your wrist, not trusting the machine to tell her you're not dead yet.

She holds tightly onto you. There's no one around to witness it.

—

You didn't wake up for four days. And every day, without failure, Wednesday came to see you. She'd sit beside your bed and wait, sometimes silent, sometimes speaking as if you'd talk back to her.

It was her own way of keeping herself calm, busy.

Though the sleepless nights were starting to take a toll on her; sour mood and thinner patience being her new normal, along with the dark circles around her eyes.

Every time she closes her eyes, she's back there — warm blood on her hands and your life slipping from her grasp — so she refuses to do it.

Enid has seen her roommate nap hunched over her desk too many times to not get worried, but with being shut out every time she asked what she could do to help, she eventually stopped.

Wednesday could hate you for messing up her life.

She doesn't.

—

The day you woke up, Wednesday was nowhere to be seen.

All of your friends came to see you, overwhelming you with love and tales about how each of them missed a part of you in their lives.

You felt sore all over, as if you'd been hit by a truck — getting shot then staying unconscious in bed for days will do that to someone, you figured.

Enid was the one who stayed to accompany you back to school when you were discharged from the hospital, along with Principal Weems, of course.

"It feels like I'm learning to walk all over again," you groaned, one hand coming up to clutch at your abdomen as you got to your feet.

"Take it slow, we've got time," Enid kindly held a hand out for you, which you promptly took.

There are a million questions swimming in your mind, losing these many days from your life feels strange. You halted but the world didn't.

You asked the one that you first thought of when you woke up; "Enid," you stop walking so you can look into her eyes, "how is Wednesday? Did she got hurt?"

A complicated array of emotions pass through Enid's features, too fast for you to put your finger on any of them. She looks at you with something akin to sympathy; "she's… fine." Enid chews on her bottom lip, pondering whether she should tell you or not. Naturally, she can't hold back, "she hasn't left your bedside once."

You must have looked rather surprised, because Enid keeps going; "it's true, there wasn't a day that she didn't come to see you."

You don't know how you should feel. You think it's unhealthy for your heart to be beating as fast as it is right now after what you've just been through, but you can't get it to slow down, not when such a bomb is dropped on you.

Almost a month ago, Wednesday told you to never come near her again. Today, Enid tells you she's been by your side this whole time.

"Why?" You ask.

Enid doesn't know the answer.

—

It feels like a fever dream. Your bullet wound, the hospital visits, the remains of the fight. Everything. It feels like it didn't happen.

Because when you got back to Nevermore, everything was back to how it was. The damage to the school was repaired, classes were steadily going back to being routine, and Wednesday hasn't looked in your mere direction once — she, being the epitome of healthy coping mechanisms and dealing with feelings, avoids you like the plague.

You asked Enid to tell Wednesday that your door was open if she ever wished to talk.

Several days have gone by already and she hasn't taken you up on your offer.

You walk out of the cafeteria with a heavy heart and twirling an apple in your hand. You miss her. You hate how your days still feel hollow without Wednesday's presence on them, it's weird because she's not the type of person who usually makes her presence known; but you miss the weight of her shoulder resting against yours, the familiar comfortable silence you'd share when only enjoying each other's existence while reading.

It's a grey day outside. You see her before you see anything else when you walk into the quad. She has her back to you, black braids haphazardly done falling over her shoulders as she sits with Enid on one of the tables.

The werewolf notices you and waves you over, an encouraging smile on her lips. You give her a look that shows your uncertainty, but she insists.

You take a deep breath and follow the stone path that leads to her table. There's a limp on your steps still, telltales of the fight; sometimes you feel the eyes of your peers lingering on you. You wonder what they're thinking about, what they see when they look at you. A brave hero or a stupid kid?

What do they see when they look at her? A lonely, unfortunate soul or the savior of the school?

You sit down beside Enid, consequently in front of Wednesday, your hands resting in your lap as your knee goes up and down anxiously.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Enid greets you happily, as if there isn't a tension thick enough to cut through in the air.

The question almost goes over your head. You're focusing on the Addams girl in front of you, on the way her knuckles suddenly go white as she grips the lunch tray like her life depends on it.

"I'm alright," you answer, eyes fixed on Wednesday — she holds you in a trance.

"I've been meaning to ask if you have the notes from our last class?" Enid continues, in a kind effort to make things less complicated.

"I uh-" you start, but cut yourself off when Wednesday hastily gets up from her seat, not sparing you a glance as she turns around and walks away.

You watch her retreating figure, the ends of her skirt bouncing with her steps. With a groan, you begrudgingly take a bite from your apple, "there's no figuring her out, I'm done," you mumble over your mouthful.

Though you're not sure if you truly mean it.

"Don't say that," Enid pouts, keeping her eyes on Wednesday until she disappears through the doors that lead inside the school.

"She made it explicitly clear she wants nothing to do with me, Enid," you shrug, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips, "I think it's my fault anyway, so… I won't bother her anymore."

Enid turns, straddling the bench she's sitting on so she can fully face you; "what do you mean?"

You breathe in deeply, feeling the familiar flutter in your stomach just thinking about it. "A few weeks before all that shit happened, we shared a- a moment."

Enid instantly smiles, her eyes twinkling with excitement, "you kissed?"

You chuckle timidly, smiling along with the memory, "yeah," but your gaze dropped to your hands right after. "I think it was a mistake."

"I doubt it," Enid tells you confidently then, as if she's in on a secret you're not.

You raise an eyebrow at her.

Enid glances between you and the door that Wednesday had disappeared into, tasting the words on her tongue before she spills them over for you. She breathes in, and relents; "after you passed out…" she gulps, dreadful memory still fresh, "right after you got shot, from the blood loss. Wednesday, she- I never saw her so desperate."

Only from the emotions swimming in Enid's eyes, you could tell she was being honest. You couldn't help the tightness in your chest upon imagining Wednesday going through that.

"It was almost as if she knew you wouldn't make it, that you wouldn't survive," Enid keeps going, "or at least that's what she believed in."

Clarity shoots through you like a bullet as your eyes widened with the words. Ironic much, but that was the feeling.

Because there was a possibility, that Wednesday saw your misfortune before it even happened. Right when you kissed her, no less.

And if that was the case, you couldn't imagine the torment she's been under ever since.

—

The night is calm, you can see clouds shaping the moon as you walk the path outside that leads to Ophelia Hall. It's a little late, just past curfew but you prefer it that way — fewer people around, the hallways will be empty.

It's a struggle for you to walk up the stairs, you have to stop once to catch your breath and allow the nagging pain that shoots up your leg to subside. Details. Tonight feels important, because you're going to see her; you'll make sure of it, even if she insists otherwise.

You stop in front of the dark wooden door. If you strain your ears, you can hear the faint noise of her typewriter. Enid isn't there, you know she's at Yoko's room tonight — her idea, not yours. Privacy is important, she told you, right after all but commanding you to do what you're doing.

With a deep breath in and feeling more nervous than you thought you would, you raise your fist, and knock.

The typing noise stops, you hear her chair scratching the floor. You couldn't breathe even if you tried.

The door pulls open and your heart melts a little at the sight; Wednesday stands in front of you with a hoodie and sweatpants on, and her hair free of braids, clearly not expecting anyone to show up at this hour.

You're snapped out of your trance when you register the door closing again. You quickly hold it open with your hand; "hear me out, please."

"No," Wednesday huffs, "I told you to stay away."

"Yeah, and not much else," you push through, squeezing your way inside her room and closing the door behind you. Wednesday takes a big step back as if you'd burn her. It hurts. "Could've given me a reason."

With a deep breath in, Wednesday sets her jaw tight, "I don't owe you anything."

You avoid her eyes then, "maybe not, but I thought we had-"

"We didn't," Wednesday tells you, the shake of her voice makes you look up, and you think you see her eyes glistening, "we don't."

You nod slowly, and despite the bleeding of your heart, you speak softly; "did you see it?" You chew on the inside of your cheek, fumbling with your hands so they don't tremble, "that night, you had a vision didn't you? About what happened to me?"

There's a sudden stillness to the room that feels awfully familiar to Wednesday. She hates the way she can't seem to control her breathing pattern, she hates that the image of you in front of her is becoming blurry.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me? Because I got hurt?"

Your words urge Wednesday's mind to travel back to that night. She closes her eyes tightly, causing a tear to roll down her cheek and part of her wants to kick you out of the room for making that happen.

"You're a liability," she tells you the first thing her mind conjures up.

You chuckle humourlessly, "ouch, considering I saved your life that's-"

"Exactly the problem." Wednesday interrupts urgently, "are you stupid? If you insist on staying close to me you'll only hurt yourself." Her voice breaks at the end of the sentence, as if it caused her physical pain to speak.

You've never heard her this vulnerable, this scared. Your heart bleeds but for a different reason; for the affection you hold for her, for not being able to protect her from what happened. You take a step further towards her and breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn't take one away from you. "And what if staying away hurts me just as much? What then?"

It's quiet. Wednesday doesn't make a single sound. All you see are her cheeks slowly being stained with tear tracks as they roll all the way down to her chin and drip to the floor, her eyebrows scrunching in hurt. But she's so quiet.

You take one more step. "Tell me why."

A beat of silence, and then; "you made me… care about you and then you go and almost die." Wednesday chokes out angrily.

You smile sadly, finally hearing the words you've been chasing; though you'd prefer them in better circumstances, "caring about people can be… scary."

You don't think she registered that you were so close. Wednesday flinches when your hand touches hers, it's a ghost of a touch, barely there, yet it feels almost like an embrace.

"But I promise you, I'm not going anywhere," you say quietly, tears pooling at the bottom lid of your eyes as you carefully hold her hand properly.

Wednesday is frozen in place, it feels like someone reached past her ribs and is squeezing the organ that pumps her blood. She hates that she must look like a mess, yet this is the first time in weeks that she feels she can actually breathe. Part of her has been stuck on that night — hands stained with your blood as the paramedics take you away from her — until now.

Her fingers tentatively close around yours, her lips part and she struggles a little to get the words out, "it's not a promise you can keep."

"I can try," you whisper. You see it clearly in her eyes; the guilt she's been carrying. "What happened that night, it wasn't your fault, you have to know that, Wednesday."

"It was because of me," she reasons just as quietly, "and almost took you from me."

Goosebumps raise on your skin at her words. Your thumb gently traces her hand. It's private, it's delicate, it's a moment that belongs to you two only. "It'll take more than a bullet for you to get rid of me," you tease with a tearful grin.

Slowly, you bring her hand up so it rests over your chest; her palm flush with your skin as your heart beats rhythmically right underneath it. "I'm right here," you breathe.

It's all it takes for her to, finally, surrender. Wednesday stumbles forward, and you're there to catch her. Her head rests on your shoulder and her hands clutch at the fabric of your shirt to the point of ripping. You encircle your own arms around her waist, pressing her tightly to you.

Wednesday is still mostly quiet, the only thing you can hear if you focus hard enough is the occasional hitch of her breath. But you feel the way her tears soak your shirt, the way her body trembles as she gives her all to contain her sobs.

"There was… so much blood," is all she tells you, words muffled against your skin.

"I know," you slide one of your hands up to her head, entangling your fingers through her hair, "I'm so sorry it had to be you." You plant several kisses on her temple and on her hair, each one is a different promise.

I'm here.

I won't leave.

My blood will never be in your hands again.

You think she understands, because you feel her own lips brushing the skin of your shoulder; cold, damp with tears. Tender.

I love you.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Halloooo angel - For requests I was wondering if you could write crew!reader who has an anxiety attack in the green room where the band is. They’re at the venue, and she spots her ex in the crowd. All the boys happen to be there and doing whatever they can think of to try and help calm her down. You know, Jolly being a dad, both the Nicks being soft lil beans, Noah going from “should we kick him out” to “he’s a fan of the band? how mad would he be if he thought you were dating the lead singer?” and poking the bear

Hey! Thank You for the request! This was an interesting one to sit down and write! It took a little longer than I expected! I hope you like it!

Any and all feedback is appreciated! Enjoy!

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

Check out my other writing here: MASTERLIST

Little White Lies

Y/N rushed down the hallway backstage frantically trying to follow the signs that Matt had hung that morning directing where the various rooms were located inside tonight's venue. She mentally begged her legs to move faster as she began to feel the familiar tightness in her chest take over.

She had been the bass tech for Bad Omens for a little over two years at this point. Meaning she was charged with making sure everything with Nicholas’ collection of instruments were cared for and ready to go the second he needed to walk on stage. She had just finished up her final pre-show check when she decided to take a quick peek at the house before the support band started their set. 

As she scanned the crowd she felt like the oxygen was sucked from her lungs when her eyes fell on a familiar face standing amongst the other guests in the VIP section. 

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. She mentally cursed. How is he here? Why is he here? 

Jared, her ex-boyfriend, was at a Bad Omens show and standing next to him was the same girl that Y/N found him in bed with on the day she came home from tour the year prior. Almost four years of her life had been wasted on this asshole that, come to find out, had been cheating on her for over a year and a half. 

He then had the audacity to try and gaslight and manipulate her into thinking that the cheating was somehow all her fault because she was gone on tour all the time. She wishes she could say it hadn’t worked, but it did and at her lowest point she had considered giving up on her dream job entirely. The mental and emotional manipulation affected her for a long time after the breakup. She had felt like her entire world was crumbling around her and thankfully her touring family stepped up to rally around her when she needed it most. 

Alana and the boys helped her move out of the house she and Jared had shared and Matt even flew in from Texas to help Noah, Jesse, and Jolly get her set up in a house that was for rent only a few doors down the street from their own. She cut off all contact with Jared and hadn’t seen him since the day he dared to show his face while they were packing the last of her things.

He promised to keep his distance while she moved out but then showed up anyway and stirred shit up with the boys. Which resulted in Alana and Noah having to physically hold Jolly back and keep him from trying to take a swing at Jared’s smug face before he finally walked out of the door and out of Y/N’s life for good. Or so she thought. 

When she found the door labeled “Bad Omens Dressing Room” she quickly slipped inside and nearly collapsed onto the couch. All commotion in the room ground to a halt as the boys looked at the panicked expression etched across their friend’s face as she struggled to control her breathing. Nicholas quickly recognized what was happening and crossed the room, kneeled on the floor in front of her and grabbed her hands within his own. 

“Hey…Hey, Y/N…look at me.” He said with a soft yet firm voice and Y/N looked up, connecting Y/E/C eyes with the familiar bright hue of her friend’s.

“There we go. I need you to try and take a deep breath and tell me five things you can see,” he said, “can you do that for me?” 

She nodded, taking a shaky breath, before listing out things she saw scattered around the green room. 

Jolly’s guitar. A case of water. A ski mask. Folio’s drum pad. Noah’s laptop. 

“Good. Good,” Nicholas responded. “Now four things you can feel.”

She took another breath. Each one feeling slightly more steady than the last. 

Nicholas’ hands. Her AAA crew card on the lanyard around her neck. The cold water bottle Folio had pressed to the back of her neck. The radio attached to her hip that looped across the back of her shoulders. 

“Good,” he continued. “Three things you can hear.”

The music from the bluetooth speaker on the table. The support band playing their set. Matt’s voice on the crew radio. 

“Two things you can smell.”

Cigarettes and Cologne. 

“One thing you can taste” 

Spearmint toothpaste. 

“Better?” He asked. She replied with a nod.

“What happened?” he inquired. “You haven’t had a panic attack like that in a while.” 

She proceeded to tell them about her spotting Jared in the crowd, who he was with, and the section where he was standing. 

They were not only pissed off about him daring to show his face at one of their shows. They were trying to figure out why he was even here to begin with. He never showed any interest in the band or attending one of their shows while he and Y/N were together. So why now was he suddenly a Bad Omens fan?

Jolly being Jolly wanted to tell Ash to have security kick him out of the venue, VIP or no VIP, and Noah initially agreed with him until a new idea came to mind. 

“Wait, he’s VIP. Which means he’ll probably be at that weird meet and greet thing the venue wants us to do after the show…” He stated. “Why don’t we have some fun with this asshole?”

“I don’t know Noah, I don’t think he’s worth all this.” Y/N said. Not wanting the guys to waste their time or energy on Jared of all people. 

“Oh no no no, this piece of shit has the audacity to show up at one of our shows after what he did to you?” Noah replied. “We’re going to at least make him squirm in the process.” 

“Okay, so, what’s your plan then?” Y/n questioned with a defeated sigh.  

He paused. Pondering. 

“How pissed do you think he’d be if he thought you were dating one of us now?” Noah suggested. A humorous glint in his eye. 

“Oh, he’d probably be furious.” She replied nonchalantly, before also pausing, a grin started to form on her face. “Say more…”

Noah continued and explained the rest of his master plan and how to execute it. 

Y/N was intrigued and a little worried about whether she would be able to pull it off or not. Noah was one of her best friends and someone she definitely felt very comfortable around so he was the natural choice in being her fake boyfriend. 

After the show Y/N started her regular post show duties breaking down her work space and packing up the bases, guitars, pedals, along with all the miscellaneous pieces and parts into their respective road cases for the rest of the crew to load onto one of the massive trailers the band now used. She had just gotten that done and the cases rolled out to the loading dock, when she heard Noah call her name and motion for her to join him. 

As she made her way toward him, she acted oblivious to the fact that Jared and his friend were standing at the back of the small group of people waiting to talk to the band. But judging by the burning stare she felt hitting her back, he definitely noticed her. 

Noah held out his arm toward her after they bid the most recent person goodbye. While the guys chatted with the next person, he pulled her into his side and planted a tender kiss on her temple. 

He leaned his mouth toward her ear and whispered, “They looking at us?” 

“Yep” she said with a nod, faking a giggle at a non-existent joke, before looking up at him with a grin. 

His brown eyes glowed, even in his tired state, as he stared down at her. They stood there for a few beats, just staring at each other, smiling like idiots before Noah started tickling her side. She quickly tried to squirm away but he pulled her even closer.  

“I think that should do it.” He said, pulling her into a full hug before placing one final kiss on her forehead, “We can handle the rest, go do what you need to do for load out.” 

He gave her one more quick squeeze before she slipped out of his arms and walked back toward the stage to help the guys finish packing up. Smile still plastered on her face. 

Noah turned to the next group of people to meet the band, but not without catching a glimpse of Jared standing at the back. Anger building in his expression, his little friend standing there completely oblivious. 

When the fan they were chatting with turned their attention more toward one of the other band members. Noah took the opportunity to make eye contact with Jared who was fuming. The expression on Noah’s face grew more serious as he held their stare. It said, I remember you, I remember what you did, and you will never come near her again. Almost daring him to try something. His face sent a very clear message to the unwanted VIP. 

She’s mine, Bitch.

[rooksamoris]

Hi, there! :D

I saw that orders are open so I want to try to make my shot.

Romantic headcanons about the Scarabia duo with a reader (fem or neutral) who loves to sing and usually sings love songs to her/them respective boyfriend as a sign of her/them devotion and love🩷💕

Your Jamil and Kalim fics have made me gain a deep affection for those two characters and I love when you include Arabs in said fics, it seems beautiful to me. If my order does not convince you, you can discard it but if not, take your time and without pressure, thank you 🌌🌠🩷💕💐✨❤️Someday I will make some fan arts of your fics :D

💞 — in which they love the sound of your voice.

💞 — kalim al-asim, jamil viper (separately)

💞 — warnings: none, this is pure fluff and romance

💞 — 940 words. i hope i did your request justice!! also, that comment about making fanart made me squeal. i genuinely think that is the best compliment someone can get <333

KALIM AL-ASIM.

🩷 — Listen, the moment you are singing, he is joining you.

🩷 — It reminds him of the festivals in the Scalding Sands, where people sang for everything—pride for their homeland, love for their darlings, the taste of the cuisine—nearly everything was taken and made into a song.

🩷 — But the moment you start singing about love to him, sevens he feels so special. It motivates him to do just about everything. Music is such a perfect love language, and he could just die happily hearing you weave lyrics about romance to him. It makes him feel like your muse.

🩷 — Whenever he is sitting on a divan pillow, staring down at the work he does not want to complete, he glances over to you, carmine eyes all pleading. He just wants you to sing something so he can feel motivated to do his work again.

🩷 — The songs in his homeland are played more classically, with the oud (middle eastern lute) and the tablah (hand drums), and he loves that, but he is more pulled in by experimental sounds.

🩷 — His pure love for music causes him to introduce you to a lot of his favorite artists and he asks if he can play for you while you sing. Overall, it is a match made in heaven.

🩷 — He invites you to the Light Music Club’s meetings and he is constantly trying to get you to join the club. If you join, he will be extremely happy. Cater would post you guys on his social media with some sort of caption like ‘if he wanted to…’ and the comments are filled with single people talking about how they want to lay down in the middle of the highway—

🩷 — Kalim’s favorite thing is when you sing exclusively for him.

🩷 — Sure, he thinks that music should be shared with everyone, but sometimes he just wants to lock away those moments for just the two of you. Nothing is as romantic as him resting at your side, listening to the smooth melodies that would spill from your lips like the morning dew slipping off the leaves of palm trees.

“Can you sing another song?” Kalim asked, his head resting in your lap. It was just the two of you on this balcony of the Scarabia dorm. Your fingers were weaved into his hair and his golden coined headband was discarded off to the side to give you the perfect access to the white tresses. You laughed, smiling down at him as your hand trailed from his hair to his cheek, caressing his pretty and plump brown skin, “I already sang three songs for you, Kalim,” He pouted. “You, my love, are too spoiled,” you said, light-heartedly. His pouting did work since you began to sing another love song, weaving him the songs of romance that he yearned for so much.

JAMIL VIPER.

🩷 — Jamil, like Kalim, has emotional attachments to music. Nostalgia is the easiest way into anyone’s heart, and he was no different.

🩷 — Sometimes when he walked through the halls of Kalim’s estate, he could hear the other servants singing songs to keep them company. It helped them ignore any of the pains of labor and the reality of their servitude. He used to think it was stupid, but now he hums those songs as he cooks alone in the vast kitchen of Scarabia.

🩷 — If you sing for him, he only wants it to be in private.

🩷 — He never really got to have anything for himself, so whenever you are dedicating songs of romance to him, he prefers it to be in a place where it is just you two. He likes it especially when you are undoing the braids in his hair and brushing through the long dark brown strands for him.

🩷 — Soon enough, he catches onto the melodies you sing and they become the tunes he hums while cooking and cleaning. It especially happens when he knows you are not going to be joining him for a meal. Your songs make him feel close to you, even when you are not around.

🩷 — You once caught him sweeping the halls humming one of the romantic songs you sang to him. His head even swayed slightly to the beat, but the moment he saw you, he blushed and tugged his hood down, mumbling something about how he should make you wear anklets so that he could hear you before you catch him like this.

🩷 — He always had a love for music and dancing, but it always reminded him of having to dull his talents for Kalim’s take. 

🩷 — Your singing strengthens that bygone love that he had for his music. It is the one thing that not a single person can take from him and claim he was too lowly to deserve it because you gave it to him willingly. 

🩷 — Jamil is so in love. Your voice is like mango nectar on a hot summer day—sweet and healing.

He always loved it when you brewed him tea, singing whatever song came to your mind. It always made him just want to grab you, which he did. Jamil’s arms slipped around your waist and he sighed, stuffing his face in the crook of your neck. He was exhausted after all the work. You stopped singing and patted his head, “Tired?”  He nodded and he let out a few curses in his native language, before kissing your collar, “Keep singing,” he muttered. All he wanted to do was fall asleep to the sound of your voice while he waited for the tea to be finished. You obliged.

[car-o-line]

Can you do tpn hcs for a fem! reader that's extremely silent, very antisocial, and withdrawn and is a girl of very few words, but also intelligent on a terrifyingly dangerous level, and she often jump scares people due to how quiet she is?

A.N: I saw this comment on Isabella’s lullaby on yt and it said, “Gotta appreciate Ray for keeping his goth aesthetic despite the white clothing he wears all the time” and it was just really funny😭😭😭

WARNING: This has spoilers for TPN/ also fem!reader.

Tpn characters with a fem!reader of few words

Emma:

Sunshine and moon friendship for sure.

Though she was a bit intimidated by you at first.

She swore up and down that’d she’d make you open up to people more.

She doesn’t mind your silence really, she just wants you to learn how to express yourself!

And she also wants to hear you voice-

She’s probably only heard you voice a few times, but she cherishes them so much.

You probably spoke a bit more when Emma and Norman had found out the secret about the orphanage.

(You found out because Emma and Norman told you outside near the wall before they told Ray, but Ray was spying on you 3 so it doesn’t matter)

Your intelligence scares Emma tbh.

Like you’re probably on Mamas level of wits.

Honestly when you do talk she probably misses what you say because of how excited she gets when you do talk.

Sometimes she doesn’t even know that you’re in the same room as her, and it makes her feel really bad :(

Like sometimes you four will have a meeting and she’ll randomly be like,

“Wait, where’s y/n!? She’s part of the-”

“She. Is. Right. There.”

“What? looks beside her oh!”

You scare her so bad sometimes omg.

She has to constantly look around to make sure that you’re in or not in the same room she’s in.

Regardless she thinks that you’re the best sister ever, even with how quiet you are.

Norman:

You’re personal translator.

Somehow he knows what you’re thinking without showing it on your face, even if you tried to mask it. So after a while you just kinda relied on him to express what you’re saying.

It’s kind of scary actually.

He doesn’t mind your quiet nature, he thinks you’re calming in a sense.

When the secret was discovered he expected you to remain stoic, for an emotional y/n was uhm..unnatural.

In which you did, though he could see a bit of sorrow in those blank eyes of yours.

Like I said when you do speak it’s a surprise but he’s not like Emma where he’s too excited to hear you, he’ll think it’s nice to hear your voice but doesn’t make it a big deal.

Intelligence wise, you both are pretty head to head.

You both probably play chess a lot.

You like it because of the minimal interactions, he likes it because it’s a learning experience.

He’ll challenge you to more activities as well.

Especially tag.

Please stop scaring him though.

At least once a day he gets jump scared by you, during tag, in the halls, or even just standing he gets on edge.

So his solution? He asked you to tap his shoulder whenever you enter his vicinity.

It saves him lots of heartaches.

Ray:

Relates to you at a point.

You’re antisocial, he’s an emo. Same thing.

He wasn’t worried about your shipment coming early because you’re hella smart.

He honestly does not give af if you spoke or not.

Thought you were mute when you came into the orphanage but Isabella shut down that theory and simply told him that you didn’t like talking.

You give him heart attacks sometimes.

Like when everyone is playing tag while he’s reading, sometimes he looks to the side just to see you staring at him over his shoulder.

Please stop.

He loves you greatly but just stop.

“What are you doing, go play tag.”

“😐”

“I’m not reading to you.”

Honestly he’s surprised Isabella didn’t make you be the traitor.

But he wouldn’t want that burden on you anyway.

After Norman’s departure you became a little more talkative, not having someone to rely on translating for you anymore.

Don’t push it tho, a sentence per day.

“Emma, do you think I should wear a skirt or pants..?”

Those were literally the first words he’s heard you said since you found out the secret.

He hopes you’ll talk to HIM soon🙄

[thecoiledserpent]

↻ REMEDIAL MEASURES FOR THE PLANETS: THE MOON

basics of vedic astrology. ask box. masterlist.

a weak moon will create unnecessary fears, anxieties and mental health issues. it can make the native moody, be emotionally sensitive, shut off and sometimes when in extremely bad dignity, even psychotic. a malefic moon will pose struggles when it comes to the relationship with the mother, which will further lead to anxiety for the native; furthermore it leads to problems with eyes and the stomach. a weak benefic moon cannot give its results properly and also makes the native become easily influenced.

GENERAL REMEDIES

never spill milk, and ensure that you don't waste water. especially drinking water.

keep hydrated all the time, and offer water to others when you think they might be thirsty or ask you for it. (never ignore anyone who asks for water)

never leave unfinished water. always finish the water you take in your glass.

sleep at appropriate times.

drink water in a silver glass (size doesn't matter, just leave some water in it to charge it with metal ions for some time, it's good for the body too.)

wear silver, if you can. necklace, bracelet, rings, whatever.

always respect your mother, or mother figure. she is the one who gave birth to you and nourished you with her blood. if nothing at all, then at least care for her because of that. talk to your mother as often as possible, and win her heart with your actions and morals.

offer gifts of silver to your mother. this includes but is not limited to jewellery, statues, antique pieces, watch, small trinkets etc.

buy a small silver box, it does not have to be any bigger than 3 X 3 cm, but it can be as large as you'd like too, and have it be filled with rice from your mother's hands. take it, and keep it at your study, or anywhere you will most likely be seeing it most often. you can keep it in a bag, pouch etc too. not in your pocket though, and it shouldn't be opened. replace the rice monthly, if you can.

fast on mondays, and only consume fruits, fruit juices, dry fruits and milk and milk products. no salt or grains in any form should be consumed. (like even kellogs will be considered grains because it has corn in it)

be at peace with crying and being emotional, especially for men.

donate to organizations that serve single mothers, widows, women etc.

keep motifs / statues of deers. a group of 17 deers pull the chariot of the moon god, so a painting of him hung on the north wall is favourable.

for hindus / people believing in idolatry / people with any form of devotion to the planets as gods:

TO BE DONE EVERY FULL MOON:

one thing i wish to emphasize here is that vedic practices like the two following are to be done in places free from the influence of alcohol / drugs / meat / rahu dominant places. after having consumed any of these, stay away from the places where the god is kept / offered remedies to, to respect their sanctity.

employ your imagination to visualize the moon god in an anthropomorphic form (as a human). this is done to create a deeper emotional relationship with the moon which is not possible with an inanimate object.

imagine the moon god as having pale, glowing skin with ethereal eyes that seem to shine. his skin is a shining white, like pearls, holding a vara in one hand and a mace in the other, aboard a chariot of ten white horses. he has a smiling and gentle face, and is adorned beautifully with jewels of silver. he wears white silks, and sits stop the crescent moon as he moves through the sky; waxing and waning in his shine as he does so.

do this as you stand admiring the full moon. you must have a small round silver vessel (lota, image below) filled with raw milk, not boiled and fresh. add some sugar and uncooked rice to it, as well. let the moon's rays fall upon you and then, extend your arms outwards and slowly pour the milk from the lota onto the ground. imagine that the milk is being used to wash the feet of chandra, as he gracefully accepts the offering.

once done, bow to him. it is necessary to do this in the open where the light from the moon falls on you. ensure the moon is visible in the sky, clouds hiding it is not favourable. as you prepare to leave, chant this mantra at least 11 times under your breath:

'OM SOMA SOMAYA NAMAH'

you can also do mantra chanting on a proper rudraksha mala, if you have one. show a diya (pictures above) to the god, and keep it outside, as though offered to his luminous form. the diya can be both, earthen ware or a brass one.

offer sweet items made of milk by you or a family member to chandra, as well. like kheer, vermicelli kheer, makhana kheer etc, their recipes can be easily found on google. take a small bowl of it, offer it to chandra and keep it outside the entire night (cover it to make sure it doesn't get contaminated) and then eat it as prasadam the next day.

keep glass bottles / jars filled with water to the brim, without their covers, as you keep them outside to allow the moonlight to fall on them. after nearly 15-20 minutes, take them back home; you can keep it outside for more time if moonlight is available, but at least do it for 15 minutes. keep this glass jar somewhere safely inside the house, ensuring none of the water is spilt.

TO BE DONE ON MONDAYS / AUSPICIOUS OCCASIONS: (depending upon level of commitment, and financial influence)

if you wish to pray to the moon god and engage in mantra chanting, then you may establish a copper / brass statue of the god, no bigger than your finger (or the thumb if you are a busy person and may have to skip this duty at times. large statues when unkempt curse the native for dishonour of the god.)

following is a good reference statue, and it is the perfect size as well. (i'm not promoting any website btw 😭)

discipline for taking care of statues of gods. not looking after the statue of gods is extremely inauspicious. if you do not have the discipline or time to dedicate some time in the morning / early evening to worship, then don't keep the statue in your home.

i will make a post about this if anyone needs additional or personal tips regarding idol worship, or how you can adjust it better with western culture. do lmk via asks.

REMEDIES TO BE DONE OCCASIONALY / WEEKLY:

offer the moon god the flowers associated with him (lotus, white chrysanthemums, white roses, moonflower, or other white flowers which are not weeds), white coloured garments (it can be any new textile, even unsewn cloth can be offered), uncooked rice (100 g) and silver metal if within means. all of these items are to be distributed amongst brahmins (temple priests) to appease the god.

havan can be done on mondays.

rice cooked with milk can be fed to brahmins (temple priests); you can ask the local temple priests about it, or if any isckon centre is present, then the authorities present there will be able to guide you well about how you can do so. if temples are present locally, then you can simply donate the items / food in a tupperware to the temple priest. the raw materials can also both be offered (raw rice grains and milk packets.

a conch to be given in charity. it is particularly beneficial if the conch shell is engraved with silver for aesthetic purposes. (don't go around thinking this has to be done weekly 😭 do it once, or maybe once every four-five years if you have that devotion and money)

[reader-wandering18]

Darkness (Part 1)

First of all, this is not a story as such. These are just parts of the Solo Leveling Manhwa story x A character from the LOTM world. For those who don't know The Lord of Mysteries is a horror, fantasy and mystery novel that has more than 1400 chapters.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!

If you have time or nothing to do, give it a look.

To be honest, this is just a fanfic so I won't go into detail to explain the entire universe of the Lord of Mysteries (just necessary) since this is simply intended to entertain as well as get this idea out of my head. (possibly also has spoilers

For so long I'm thinking about doing this so it will have several parts (maybe 5 yet, I don't know) but keep in mind that I will be skipping most of the Solo Leveling story.

This story also begins two days before the events of the orcs at Jinwo's sister's school (Jin-Ah)

Enjoy it 💋

(English is not my original language)

Jinwo didn't know where you came from.

You were strangely quiet, so much so that not even S-rank hunters noticed your presence. Only Jinwo, though most of the time it was like you did it with the intention of being seen only by him.

You were also fucking strong and a complete mystery.

He remembers the day you both met for the first time. While he was clearing a high-class dungeon, you appeared in a corner as if nothing

Of course this surprised him when he saw you and that he hadn't sensed your presence.

The system couldn't tag you.

His army immediately came out of his shadow and surrounded you, but the strange thing was that all the shadows seemed anxious like... scared, though Beru behaved like a rabid dog, much more than what Jinwo saw when he faced Cha. Hae In.

Despite all that hostility, you were calm, as if simply the echo of being surrounded by numerous dead shadows wasn't something you should worry about.

You were extremely tall, you seemed to be about 177 cm, your clothes were from the modern era, a black collared shirt, tight jeans, black boots, like a leather jacket.

Your black hair was loose, which showed its long (it reached the height of your knee) your skin was white like the moon but your eyes... Your eyes were what made him nervous.

He hadn't trembled like this since he was an E rank

You had a pair of deep black eyes without any emotions.

Jinwo thought he was seeing the emptiness of the universe.

— I'm not here to hurt you.

Once your voice rang out throughout the dungeons, Jinwo strangely felt calm, your voice was a lullaby that lulled his entire body.

Both daggers he held so tightly began to weaken.

— My lord!

Beru's scream brought him back to reality and he held both daggers again with such force that you could hear the pressure of the leather.

¿What had you done?

He had no answer for that question at that moment

— Not bad — you commented when you saw the willpower of that child.

At that moment Beru wasted no time and lunged at you and... everything went dark.

When Jinwo woke up, notice he was in the hospital

What had happened?

He tried to remember but something prevented him. Even his shadows were affected by what seemed to be amnesia.

— Son, Jinwo — next to him came his mother with a worried look.

Jinwo asked him how he had gotten to the hospital. His mother told her that he had been completely exhausted after encountering a dungeon boss and had fainted shortly after finishing it.

The dungeon was about to close but a kind foreign lady had gotten him out in time.

Hearing that, Jinwo's face was simply unreadable.

He never got tired in a boss fight. Less so in a B-class dungeon.

He immediately stood up and asked his mother where she had found the woman who had brought him.

Seeing Jinwo's rush to find out about your whereabouts, his mother thought he wanted to go thank her for helping him. In fact, she wanted to do that too since the girl left with a couple of men in suits.

He remembered that person with a slicked back hairstyle, orange hair, and dark glasses.

—She's in the hunter association.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Re: To the anon asking about Rory.

They’ve been close friends for AGES. He’s not going anywhere sadly.

I don’t really like his vibe

Hey, I’m the one who asked about Rory—thanks for replying. I know they’ve been besties forever, but what I meant was if Rory was a huge part of L’s life before HBS. I don’t remember seeing him much when L and J were together, except in a couple of stories and the singing vids. Also, are Tom and Charmaine married? I like them for some reason; they don’t give me the ick like Rory and his gang do.

Continuation of my earlier ask:

My BFF and I talked to two of our male friends, and they patiently listened. We just finished filling them in on the drama from yesterday and today. We’ve been chatting since 5 am lol. Here’s what they had to say:

Luke and Nic are in love: There’s a lot of eye-fucking to prove it. The tension suggests they haven’t acted on it, which is expected. The guys think Nic wouldn’t be okay with that, and Luke seems decent enough not to have crossed that line. However, they do believe they might have hooked up before Luke had his HBS. They could be reevaluating their relationship, using intimacy tools to see if it’s genuine affection or just heightened emotions and sexual tension from filming their season.

Luke’s friend group seems toxic: By friend group, they mean just Rory. The others seem fine. L dating a young girl soon after Rory did confirms Rory as the alpha of the group, and L as gullible since none of his other friends are doing the same. Maybe J dating someone young also influenced L dating A. It could be an ego thing, a guy thing, or both. L will probably cringe at this situation looking back. They said this whole relationship has nothing to do with Nic. This is Luke’s problem—a midlife crisis, even—and he needs to figure it out, which won’t happen as long as he’s with Rory and his gang.

A is super insecure: It doesn’t make sense because she’s the one who bagged the hot Netflix lead and goes on vacations with him. But her social media behavior reeks of insecurity and constantly seeking validation. This confirms that L isn’t invested in the relationship, which confirms to us he’s VERY much into Nic. So, think about this whenever A’s trolling upsets you. 😉

Nicola doesn’t care: The guys think L and N might have discussed their feelings, but Nic sees that L has issues to deal with—mainly himself. She’s hustling and thriving, not caring about his current relationship. Posting their pictures shows her character and work ethic. This only benefits her, and Luke should learn from it. They think L should make a final thank you post, even if people find it disingenuous. It’s better than nothing.

A needs to chill with the Hailey Bieber cosplay: The white outfit was an exact recreation of Hailey’s, and it’s weird. She keeps track of her comment section and allows comparisons to Hailey, which is embarrassing to say the least. The guys think A will stick around as long as she can. L seems to struggle with breakups, and now that A’s integrated into his friend group, it’ll take a lot of time to end things. She might be playing into his guilt, which is why he’s still liking her posts. She's young but smart enough to understand that. They think the only way out is for L to keep busy with work, but he doesn’t seem to have any now. Expect things to get worse before they get better. If he works, he can slowly distance himself from the relationship, and it will inevitably end. Either that or he’ll meet Nic, talk, realize they still have feelings, and that will give him the courage to end it with A. Even then, he has to make it up to Nic for all the shit he’s pulled.

Nic and Newts dating: Once they start dating, we won’t get a hard launch or pap pics. They might return to their old social media banter and comment and like each other’s posts.

So yeah, I’m really grateful to have my brother and these friends who indulge and listen to me. I think it’s safe to say they’re roped into the ship as well lol. Love to see what you guys think. Omg, also, I watched a TikTok of Luke singing as a teen, and the guy in the back looks like Rory. If it is, HE’S the one who glowed up, not L lol.

It is Rory in the background looking jealous AF

Thank you for sharing anon, love seeing the different perspectives

💜🥃

[lovelybeesthings]

Quick like a bunny Ch 2

Coriolanus Snow x reader

Warnings: none I think

Word count: 1.8k

Ch 1 & 3

Mansion

Why did he have to say such hurtful things all I’m trying to do is to care for him is that not enough? What does Lucy Grey have that I don’t she's a poor tribute form that distracts 12 from what he's doing he can end up killed or hanged! *I cry into my pillows as I try to find a way to release my feelings and emotions as tears find a way to escape from my sniffs and efforts push them away* “Yvanna dear come down for dinner!” *I hear my mother call as I get up in my pink pastel long puffy Lacey dress with my hair in curls*

Training

The next day I attended the Academy sitting threw my classes and lessons with focus but I couldn't help but look at Coriolanus his beauty his curls his looks- I stopped myself from looking and continued to focus on ways to take advantage of the games. As the lesson soon ended I came across my tribute as we practiced one-on-one trying to think of how I could better his odds even though he has the brown I would like to give him the brain.

I shortly walked away to get some Items to see how Reaper works with them and I soon came across a tribute his features were beyond what I'd seen from the Capitol his eyes sea green, his hair bronzed color his skin the color of gold if possible whatever he came from they had been keeping him well.. I felt a rush of warmth from my cheeks this tribute quickly noticed my luring eyes. “Fenwick Odair District 4” his smile was a bright pure one he knew he was handsome and showed it* “Did I scare you little bunny?” he said as I quickly regained my thoughts and answered “No, I was just impressed I believe you have a good chance of winning I think the odds are surely more in your favor” he looked at me hand on his chin smirking “That so little bunny?” “Better watch out then this bunny is quick” I smile as I flirt a bit with him and quickly return to Reaper to continue our training.

Unnoticeable to me Coriolanus was watching our interactions on his way to Dr. Volumnia's lab he felt his heart clench with bitter thoughts surfaced in his head what did he do to that tribute from District 4- no what did he think he was here to learn more knowledge to find a better way for Lucy to better her odds for his odds.

After hours

I spent my time brushing my silky (c/h) as it didn't have any tangles or any worries in my long healthy hair as I think about my encounter with Fenwick his love is his charms make me blush still, I hope he wins the game is know I should try to win but Id like to spend more time with him.

I heard a sudden knock on my door and I got up from my vanity in my pink lacey nightgown opened the door got my candle lamp to see who had visited my room in such late hours Maye a maid “y/n” Coriolanus speaks I'm shocked to see him here this light at night “what happen why are you home are you alright is Tigris okay?” I say confused and worried soon his cold hands reach my face and hold my chin I look completely lost to his sudden affection.

He pushes his way inside my room and preps me down on my bed I'm blushing and not sure what he's planning to do “What are you doing Coriolanus?” I say as his piercing blue eyes look at mine like a wolf looking at a poor rabbit to slaughter in minutes, his response was his lips on mine I'm surprised I mean this man was my fiance but he never really showed me an ounce of affection like that and since our last words, I wasn't sure he wanted to be in my life.

I respond with his kisses as he’s on top of me vulnerable to his lips how could I shut him down his mop of white blinding curly hair he just does it for me though in the back of my mind I think of Fenwick and gently push snow off “what are you doing..?” he looks at me a bit surprised and confused “What do you mean y/n I'm showing my affection and love for you” he looks at my eyes then lips then back up to my lips “No this doesn't feel right you don't….Are you okay this doesn't seem like something you think about clearly” I know I want his attention and his kisses but it feels like he's thinking of someone else..not someone Lucy..

“You don't want this you think you do but you love her..” I say “Right now you don't know what you want to be what makes you happy” *I say as I hold a smile and angle face holding tears back pushing the one I want to be happy “Lucy will cherish you as much as I will” he nods and slips out of my room my house like he was never even there the only reaches left were the stolen kisses of mine.

How do we think about this chapter? Is it good for your guys' standards I'll try to make the third one a time skip to after what goes down in the book and snows return back to the Capitol.

please like 😘

SHOUTOUT TO @edb954 for some of the inspiration and @watercolorskyy

[cmdrfupa]

Winters Blessing

Suguru x Reader

an: idk yall. This has been sitting in the files for a minute and I finally found how I wanted to go about this. Little to no proofreading so uh.. Slight copium ig.

Cw: claustrophobia mention, reader and Suguru have a child, mentions of death, Cursed Child Arc which is a warning in itself.

Suguru looked curiously into the crib, "She looks just like me." You didn't say anything, instead keeping your eyes on the sleeping child. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Soft golden light spilled from the windows as the night's snow flurry was underway. The gentle winds blew against the window.

"If I told you, what would be different?"

"I would've helped." his tone was neutral.

"You wouldn't have chosen us nor dismantled your following," noticing how closely he looked at the baby, you inched closer to him.

Suguru's views caused too much chaos, so you left. You followed him longer than you should have, choosing to stop trying to find ways for him to spread his opinions without aggressive forces. You were understanding (complacent) until you found out you were expecting, and his actions became more volatile. " I did what was necessary." The emotional turmoil was evident in your voice, a testament to the unresolved struggles.

The strings of white, green, and red lights twinkled around the window trimming. You kept the house toasty as small gusts of winter chill swept across the floor of your older home.

Suguru smiled, "Fair point," accompanied by a light laugh. A bitter taste lingered at the edge of his tongue. "We wouldn't have been able to agree, true. But when two parents have conflict about their child, the healthy option would be to have a conversation." He felt like a teenager again, the sick side effect of love, the kind that makes you do things you never thought you would. It was a pathetic realization that he would've done anything for you and still would.

"Healthy conversation? Geto, please," the subtle rise in your voice caused the baby to stir. You rubbed her back lightly. "I tried telling you. More than once. Just for you to have your assistant put me in your room like some concubine without a voice."

He tried to ignore the ache from the formality of you calling him Geto. "I did that to keep you safe. Did you think I was just going to let you roam? I don't trust those ingrates."

"That's not the point, Geto."

"Then what is? You're not giving me a good excuse," The lack of understanding between you was palpable.

"The point is you didn't give me a chance to help from the beginning. When we left Tokyo, you were confrontational about literally anything I said. You were tired and underappreciated. We were on the same team. But you never let me into your world enough to be there for you."

You stepped away from the crib, attempting to step directly into his sight.

"You say that as if we were ever the same. "We weren't then, and we aren't now," Suguru said. He wanted to touch the child's dark hair, but he held back. He placed his hand on the crib railing. That action alone would make this more challenging than it is. "Almost 10 years of knowing me in my truth and your views on life and humanity are weak. You are weak. You walked among non-sorcerers for too long, and it made you soft. You coddle them as if it's your purpose. I've been fixing what you've had a hand in ruining." Suguru's voice was sharp. But, it hinted at your old bond beneath his pointed words.

"And that is why I stopped trying to tell you."

"Not a good enough excuse. It is my child. My blood." You were just as stubborn as he was; he was out to hit a nerve. "Will you resent this child as they grow older? You do know she will be a sorcerer who appreciates her place in the world. She won't be weak, like you." his lips turned up, looking down at his daughter. Her hair haloed around her cherub face as she slept peacefully. "Your child is better than you... honestly rather shameful, no?"

"Hallway. now." Your eyes said everything. You opened the door, holding it for him.

Suguru wasn't stupid enough to argue. Without another word, Suguru walked out to the hallway, grinning.

"Suguru. You have some nerve coming to me like this when I tried to be understanding for years." Looking into his eyes was setting a trap, but you needed him to see you. "My view on life and humanity might make me look weak. But you kept me. You loved me. I left everything and everyone behind for you. To support you. To understand you more. And all I was given was dust."

The smirk on his face was disgusting. It made your skin crawl. "You wanted to support me? Fine. You left everything behind and stood by me." tone dripping with condescension. "But I kept you with me because your weakness made me look stronger amongst fools who lead with emotion." Already a tiny space between you, he takes a step forward. "The minute you don't get your way, you run. Just to be in need. Always needing to be saved. Never necessary.."

"Don't you dare." the heat in your chest pooled as you cut him off; this was beyond anger as Geto attempts to manipulate your emotions. "If I've always been weak and never necessary, tell me why you loved me. And don't lie."

"What I thought was love was simply us being teens. Even then, you accepted me and my flaws." He pauses again, a flicker in Suguru's eyes. A sense of longing in his voice has already faded from him. "But I know you're not the same anymore, and neither am I." Exhaling, he knew he wasn't lasting against you for long. "You're too compassionate and open. I'm cold and willing to set the world on fire for my goals. Perfect disastrous match." His words didn't match his feelings. Suguru was losing his inner battle.

The silence was thick as his brown eyes couldn't look away from you. You had him. He was letting you in.

"I've only read your thoughts once before."

“And that time, you asked me.” He tsked, putting on a face of disappointment. “Shame on you for not getting my consent this time, sugar.”

“You didn’t look away. You know how this works Geto.” You quickly retorted. “And consent wasn’t an issue when it was your followers I was doing this on.”

Since that one time in school, he had kept you from accessing his thoughts and feelings. Knowing that eye contact was key to your technique, Suguru made it a habit to look at the tops of your brows when he spoke to you. There would've been no success if you'd discovered his plans before he was considered defected. But he was tired. He was tired of hiding emotions and thoughts that made his will waiver. He needed you to see him, all of him.

"Why are you letting me in now?"

"Because you have power over me, I don't want to forfeit that."

"How did you find me?"

"I had one of the cultists following you since you left. You went to Gojo. That makes me believe you did it out of spite." Suguru sucked in a breath and clenched his jaw before continuing. "Did he try to turn you in for being an accomplice?"

You shake your head. "I stayed with him during the pregnancy. I didn't have much of a choice, considering the other option was being sentenced to death for my collaborative efforts. You weren't an option, Ever."

Your words sliced him open. Was he so horrible that a death sentence was more appealing that coming back to him wasn't an option? A grotesque feeling of shame filled his body.

"Why are you back? Is it the child?"

"Both you and the child..” hesitance spread across his face before he shook his head. “And I have business in Tokyo.”

Was your defection inevitable?” The locks that kept the gate his emotions locked up rusted and fell off. You heard everything. felt everything.

“When Yuki and I spoke. She understood what I felt but we saw different ways of achieving that goal. I saw eradication as the only way.” His eyes were stuck as he saw you in his mind. You were in his temporal lobe and only planned on going deeper. “If I didn’t go that route of taking others' lives, I would’ve taken my own.”

The way your throat tightened was a threat for tears to spill. 

You took a deep breath, placing your hand on your chest before tapping it lightly and the room slowly dimmed. The surroundings transform into a cold, sterile interrogation room. Geto was seated across from you, bound to a chair with restraints unseen by the naked eye, unable to move or escape. With a harsh light overhead and a tense feeling pressing down on you both, you broke the silence, “Geto. Speak.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go this way. I let things get out of control. I lost myself. I lost my best friends. I lost you.” His words spilled out, no longer playing tug of war as it was a losing battle with your power no longer holding back.”The way things felt. Like I was second best despite being told I was the best with Gojo. Seeing how life was worth nothing to those fucking ungrateful, ancient, careless fucks who look down on us from the safety of their hiding spots. I needed to be heard. To be seen by them.”

The lights grew brighter as Suguru's emotions intensified. He hung his head, tears dropped down the front of his robes. “Geto.”

“Then you. A fucking child. Our child. You hid a child from me!” The walls drew in, the space between you closing as the sterile room became a claustrophobic nightmare. “I know I wasn’t the strongest. I knew I was unstable. But you didn’t even give me a chance to fail.”

 Shaking your head with confidence, you clenched your fist. “That is a lie. I gave you ample chances. Every day was a chance and you being the strongest would’ve meant nothing.”

A harsh, anger-fueled laugh left his throat before Suguru spit on the floor. “You gave me a chance to come to you so you could feel better about leaving me. You already knew you were leaving me the day I told you I’d leave no stone unturned when it came to getting the ending I wanted. Being pregnant was just a convenience. And you’re lucky it happened the way it did.”

“Thats not true. Geto, I-”

“Yes, the fuck it is.” Eyes bloodshot, Geto struggled against the restraints, failing to get up. You walked over to him and kneeled to look directly into his face. “You what? Loved me? You never loved me as much as I loved you. You gave me part of you while the rest of you stayed behind at that hell on earth of a fucking school.”

“You don’t know shit.”

"That child is your reminder. A reminds of my love for you. That if they handed you stones to end me and watch me die, I'd be a part of you for the rest of your miserable, lonely life.” It was like watching Jekyll and Hyde with how much he tried to hide his true thoughts. “No matter how far you ran, I’d be right there looking at you through the eyes of that precious angel. Our angel.”

“So why didn’t you get rid of me? Tell me to stay behind or leave me with hopes that you’d return?”

“If anyone were to ever try and forget me, you’d remind them of what I did. Of who I was at my core.” He wiped his wet cheek on his shoulder, trying his damndest to stop from tearing up as he let out a half-hearted chuckle. “God I really hate your stupid technique. It’s too potent.”

“It works when it needs to.” You stood up, your domain dissipating as you gave Suguru space to get up. “You were never going to be forgotten because I was never going to stop you. I just needed you to be here. To be present.”

The familiarity of your home embraced you as the pale-colored hall was now in view. “You were going to keep me grounded and out of my own way and honestly, I fucked up.” Suguru took your hand. His cold fingers squeezed yours as he needed you to see his soul in yours one more time. “When I’m done, you’ll see my efforts haven’t gone to waste.”

“What are you telling me, Suguru.”

The heater roared to life down the hall and the chills that crept up your body were soothed by the rush of warmth.

“I’m telling you that I don’t regret a single thing. My defection, my love for you, our child. You will remind them of who I am because you know the real me.” A punch to the chest after every word, the truth cemented behind tired eyes. “You made me feel known. And I won’t ever regret being known by you.”

Showing understanding with nothing but a nod, you touched his cheek gently. Suguru closed his eyes for a moment, releasing every bit of tension he’d held onto for the last 2 years without you. “There is always love when I’m with you. I’ll carry it with me until my last breath.”

Tears at your waterline, you smiled, attempting to combat the somber energy that now filled your home. “Niina should be getting up soon. Do you want to help feed her? I can make dinner for us if you want to stick around for the rest of the evening.”

“Are you certain?”

“Sugu. I want you to meet her. You can be a dad, see our little mastermind in action. It will be good for you. For us.”

It was a night that felt suspended, heavy with stillness, where the world seemed paused in the embrace of winter’s grip. Calm and serene as if the world knew to slow down for you to enjoy your last night together in the stillness of December.

[canarysage]

…make reply icons?

reply icons (or as i call em, replycons) are a weird kind of edit. they’re in the same genre as rentry or carrd graphics—i.e., that you can do whatever you want with no real rules. that said, these are some guidelines i follow

i. make your canvas much wider than it is tall

there’s no exact measurement for this. my reply icons for this blog are 600x150, but they’re fairly uniquely small. the general consensus at least amongst my peers is about a 4:1 or 3:1 ratio will work best.

the reason why your replycons should be wider than longer is because it keeps them from taking up a lot of space. here’s mine as an example:

enough space to be visible, but not so much as to be obnoxious. that should generally be your goal.

ii. collect a wide variety of expressions

this’ll be limited depending on your characters, but it’s best to have a good variety of expressions. i also save my files with whatever the expression is to me for easier searching but you don’t have to do that LOL

also, i feel obligated to mention it, but you don’t have to stick with just one character. you can use a whole group, either an in-game group (i.e. leo/need) or a visual group (i.e. blonde characters.) they don’t even really need to match, though it’ll look better if they do. with this blog and my old ones, i used a variety of characters with the same color palette so i could get the expressions i wanted.

iii. just make the damn thing

ah, the worst part of all editing—actually editing. god fucking damn it. now that you’ve got your canvas and your character(s) it’s time to grit your teeth and make some replycons

first thing i usually do is narrow down a theme. this can be as simple as a color or as complex as something like “cybercore” or whatever -core scratches your brain. for these replycons, my theme is just attempting to match the rest of my blog layout. god fucking speed.

it can sometimes help to make a thumbnail like this ^ but that’s 100% optional. i like to do it for tutorial purposes and it helps me to get my thoughts from my brain and into photopea. your thumbnail need not make sense nor be cohesive. it’s just for you to know

a good way to start is to make a shape and make it interesting—i usually make a shape and give it a border and some fun lines, rp style, but you don’t have to do that. all of those things can be done with just the shape tool. you can also find existing icon masks on tumblr or resource rentries (make sure you credit properly!!) and you can find some templates, like mine!

once you’ve got a theme and a base, start adding shit.

^ pretty easy base. i pixelated the lines around her eyes and added eyes, and added a stroke and drop shadow to the shape to make it easier to see! if you’d like, you can stop there. but i think it needs a background and some details so i’m going to keep going

background complete! for this i just used a color fill and went rasterize > filter > noise > add noise but you can add whatever you like—patterns, wallpapers, solid colors, etc. it’s up to you! i also added a small stroke around my character png so as to distinguish her from the background a little further :)

this one is a little blank on the left side so i’m gonna add some text and details!!

there we are. i added the cd png to break up the monotony of my base, added text because it’s my personal preference, and added a chibi so the text is distinguished! if you do add text, make sure it’ll be readable in any modes—light and dark. i typically add both a black and white stroke for this, and a drop shadow can help a lot, too!

an important thing to note here is any extraneous images of the character you add can’t be too distracting to the main image. if i had, for example, done this:

the new png is obviously too distracting, right? it takes up too much space and completely draws the eye away. this is even more true when the base and the png have conflicting expressions, like so:

because now i can’t tell what emotion you’re conveying—is the replycon happy or sad? what part do i focus on??

so it’s best to keep any extraneous decals pretty simple, for the sake of clarity. it’s also best to remember that english-speakers read from left to right, and native speakers are conditioned to interpret most things that way. you’ll want to draw the eye in that direction as you work, and not the other way around. hope that makes sense lmfao

iv. save as a psd

once you’ve got all your layers and details situated, make sure that you save your replycon as a psd. this is imperative, because it enables you to make new reply icons as the occasion arises, or you can recycle the basic components for a new theme!

if you’re unsure on how to save as a psd, click file in the upper left-hand corner and then ‘save as a psd.’ i recommend labeling it so you can file it more easily; i’m naming this file cobaltpegasi replycons, which is an easy template—just stick your url in instead.

once you’ve done that, keep adding expressions until you have a suitable amount of replycons! i usually made about five to ten to start with and then add new expressions as i see fit, but you can do whatever works best for you.

also, when saving your replycons, it helps to sort them by what emotion you think they convey. for example, my canarysage replycons are sorted by character and then by emotion—so this one is labeled “len smug” because that’s how it seems to me

you don’t have to do that, but i find it helps a lot when trying to find specific ones, especially if you have a lot.

v. go forth and use them

now that you’ve got your replycons done, you can use them! go forth and clear out those week old requests in your inbox (🤨) or whatever it is you want to do with them. that is all. canarysage signing off <3

…so that’s how you do it.

[ethanmorales]

Train Wreck [Ethan Morales Short Fanfic]

Masterlist

Part Two - Crazy

Pairing: Ethan Morales x fem reader 2.1k words Warning: swearing Requested: Based on Ariana Grande's song "Boyfriend." / Friends to lovers.

Ethan’s POV

I adjusted the collar of my unbuttoned shirt for the third time as I waited for Y/N to answer the door. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other impatiently. What’s taking her so long? I pulled my phone out to call her when I finally hear the door being unlocked. My heart rate speeds up as she comes into view. I’m overcome with emotion. The emotion that I’m always trying to swallow down when she’s in front of me, though right now, it is intensified and threatens to take over. She was wearing a short white dress that hugged her torso but flared out and swayed at her hips when she walked. Her lips are plump and tinted in a soft natural color. Her hair fell in waves over her shoulders. She was so beautiful it made it hard to breathe sometimes.

“Sorry I took so long. I meant to call you earlier.” She greets me like she’s not about to give me a heart attack. I pull the emotion inside me back and respond casually.

“Call me about what?” I ask, trying very hard to focus on her words and not how badly I want to kiss those lips.  

Her expression looks apologetical. I frown at this.

“Hey, Y/N.”

I turn around at the new voice.

Our neighbor, Diego, walks up the pathway to us. I stared, confused.

“What’s up, man?” He greets me. Slowly, I bump my fist with his. He looks over my shoulder to YN. My stomach sinks.

“Damn, you look amazing.” He tells her. I look back at her just in time to see a blush creeping onto her cheeks. The sight makes me feel sick.

“What’s going on?” I finally ask. She smiles gently.

“I asked Diego to the party,” she begins, and I try very hard not to react as she continues, “I know you’re meeting with Maia. I figured I should save you the trouble of having to look after me all night.”

I wanted to yell. I wanted to argue. How could she ever think that she’s any trouble to me? How could she think I want to be around anyone more than I want to be around her? I wanted to tell her that I changed into like 10 different outfits thinking about all the times she complimented my style and what she seemed to like. That I was wearing her favorite cologne, the one she got me for my birthday last year. But I said nothing of the sort. Instead, I smiled.

“Cool. I’ll leave you in good hands then.”

She smiles back at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I swallow the need to ask her what’s wrong. It seems she has someone else to ask her those things tonight. I turn to Diego.

“Keep your hands to yourself.” I say quietly close to his ear as I pat his shoulder.

He quirks an eyebrow at me in question, but I say nothing else as I walk away from them, towards my car. I try not to let the anxiety building up in my chest crush me under its weight as I watch them walking down the gravel pathway together, arms linked. I take off.

Y/N POV

I didn’t want to go to the party with Diego. I wanted to go with Ethan. But he was currently into Maia and she would be waiting for him as soon as we arrived. So, for once, I decided not to be a masochist who just swallows the pain of arriving with him just to be left alone in a place where I wasn’t comfortable with anyone else. Inviting Diego was a last-minute decision and was so grateful that he said yes.

We weren’t close, but we’ve had a few nice conversations since he moved next door 6 months ago. I figured this was the least heartbreaking option. Plus, he was too  attractive to ignore the fact.  

“Ready to go, chica?” He offers me his arm. I link mine around his and we start walking. As I take note of the sexy accent, not for the first time, I’m vaguely aware that I must have a type.  

“All black is a good look on you.” I say, noticing the black jeans and the black shirt that’s unbuttoned enough to expose part of his chest. He smiles and looks at me.

“And you look killer in all white.”

I can’t help smiling back. “Thanks.”

We’re in the middle of light conversation about school and the upcoming holidays before he randomly changes the topic.

“So, you and Ethan…” he trails off in a question.

“What about us?”

Diego smiles. “What’s the story? You guys dated before or?”

I shake my head furiously. “No. Not at all. We’ve known each other since we were in diapers. Our moms have been best friends since high school so naturally, we are as well.” I try to keep any kind of emotion out of my voice, but I heard the higher pitch as I spoke. I crossed my fingers that he didn’t hear it too.

“Gotcha. I just… I got a vibe from him earlier, so I thought there was something there.”

I laugh though it’s not funny. “A vibe? from Ethan? Nah, he’s just overprotective. I’m like a little sister to him. Plus, he’s not used to me going out with guys. He usually drags me to places with him. He was probably thrown off.”

Diego chuckles. “Yeah… you’re probably right. That’s cool that you guys have been friends for that long. I don’t know that I could do it.”

I look at him and he meets my gaze with a smile.

“Careful, it almost sounds like you’re flirting,” I tease.

He looks back at the road, but I see him bite his lip before he responds. “I am flirting.”

I feel myself blushing again. “Oh… good to know.” I don’t know what else to say. Yes, he was hot. But he wasn’t Ethan. The thought came to me quickly, but it still made me feel guilty. I pushed it aside and decided to give Diego a chance to woo me tonight. It was time I stopped hoping for the impossible. Ethan would never see me that way. The quicker I moved on, the more pain I could save myself from.

Ethan’s POV

The party was at full force as I walked through the opened door frame. There are people in small groups all around, red cups in their hands. A ping pong table has been set in the middle of the living room and it’s already surrounded by a crowd waiting for their turn to chug cheap beer and get buzzed on attention. I walk past this scene and find the kitchen. My buddy Adrian is there, a cup in his hand. “What’s this?” I ask, but I start downing the contents before he has a chance to reply. The liquid burns down my throat but I still don’t stop.

“It’s vodka.” I heard him say.  “You good bro?”

I don’t answer him until I’ve finished what’s in the cup and hand back to him with a smile.

“I’m great! Let’s get this party started!”

I feel arms wrap around my stomach from behind. I freeze for a second. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for you.” Maia. My heart sinks at the realization.

I don’t let that thought form. Instead, I turn around to face her ready to greet her with a kiss. Before I get to do that though, I see Y/N and Diego walking in. He smiles at her and takes her hand. It takes about two seconds of him scanning the room before his gaze lands on me. He smiles wider and winks. Someone is moving next to me, cup in hand. I take it from them, ignoring the protest before I down it too. Beer this time.

“You okay?” This time it’s Maia asking. I wish everyone would stop asking me the same goddamn question. But instead of snapping, I smile down at her before kissing her hard. It was almost like I was taking out my anger out on her. She didn’t seem to mind though. She kissed me back just as fervently. I pulled back and glance at Y/N and found her watching me. Her eyes were sad and something in me hurt at the sight. Before I knew what I was doing, I started walking to her. Diego stepped slightly in front of me as I got to them.

“Having fun already, huh?”

My eyes were on Y/N and the shimmer on them. But I forced myself to peel my gaze away to look at Diego.

“I’m always having fun,” I respond. “Shouldn’t you be getting your date a drink?”

He studies me briefly before looking back at Y/N. “Want a beer?”

“She doesn’t drink.” I say smugly.

Y/N give me a pointed look before she replies to him. “I’ll try one.”

“Great” Diego’s smug expression deepens as he pushes past me, bumping into me as he does. It takes all of me not to pull him back and plant my fist into his stupid smiling face.

“It’s a party. I can drink if I want to.” Y/N says as a response to the look in my face.

“The hell you’re going to drink while you’re with him.” I snap.

I feel a hand on my arm. “What’s going on, Ethan?”

“Not now, Maia.” I pulled away from her touch and grabbed Y/N’s arm, dragging her behind me.

Y/N protests the entire way until I find a big tree in the backyard. I pull her around it, letting the huge trunk shield us from any curious eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Her face is flushed red with anger. She looks so goddamn beautiful like that.

“Fuck.” Before I know what I’m doing, I’m pushing her against the tree. Her eyes widen in surprise, but before she can question me, I grab her face and kiss her. I’m so angry that I think I’m going to kiss her so hard she’ll break, but I am briefly amazed by the fact that she’s kissing me back, with the same amount of passion. I’m fueled by that reaction and deepen the kiss, my hands travel down her arms and move to the small of her back, pushing her closer into me. Her hands tangled in my hair, and I couldn’t stop from moaning in her mouth. I pull back, but stay close enough to breathe each other’s air, our mouths centimeters away.

“Ethan.” Her voice was breathless. I smirk, satisfied.

I kiss her deeply once more then pulled away again.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve spent waiting for the right time to make my move, keeping track of every little interaction until I was mostly sure that you were feeling the same way about me. Earlier today, I could have sworn you were jealous. I thought the time finally had come. Then Diego shows up.” I stopped, overcome with that emotion again, the one that made me feel like I was drowning. Y/N’s eyes are surprised but her hand on my cheek helps me continue.

“I am so in love with you.”

She’s quiet, studying me carefully, trying to see if I was telling the truth. She knew me better than anyone, so she would know if I’m lying.

“What about Maia?” she finally asks.

“A distraction. All those girls have been distractions. The only way I could deal with not being with you. I needed to make sure. I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship if you didn’t feel the same.”  

“You need to tell her.” Is all she says.

“We’re not dating?”

“But-”

“I promise you. She knows how I feel about you. I have been honest with all of them. They’ve all been involved with me knowing I’m in love with you.”

“That’s crazy,” she whispers. “For how long?”

“How long what?” I ask.

“How long have you had these feelings?”

“3 years.” I’m a little embarrassed to admit this. She shakes her head and finally smiles.

“4 years for me.” She states. “Who is the bigger fool?”

I smile like an idiot.

“Seriously?” she nods at my question. I sigh with relief. “I can’t believe we’ve wasted years.”

She shrugs. “We didn’t know. We were scared.”

“Guess we have a lot of time to make up for.”

“Mhm.” This time she pulls me in for the kiss and I follow her lead. She pulls back quickly.

“Oh God, Diego.” She’s horrified, realizing she had forgotten about him.

I smile wide, “Fuck him.” I kiss her in such a way that there’s no way she’ll even remember his name.

The End.

___________________________________

A/N: Thanks for reading. Hopefully you enjoyed it! :)

Stay awesome xx

P.S. Diego Tinoco from On the Block as Diego.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #21] Doing The 'Right' Thing

warnings: christmas is upon us! secret santa, yay!! jiyeong, booo! no major warnings! the arrival of b's bird hehe. some of my fave jimin parts are in this lol (he's one of my faves)

soundtrack: touch - keshi

wc: 10.1k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

An emptiness echoes down your apartment corridor, dim lights flickering above you, as you make your way home after practically running away from Jeongguk's bed.

A new bulb has been needed for a couple of weeks now, but your landlord doesn't care enough to change it. As long as the electricity runs and the water flows through taps, he thinks all is fair. Sure, you could change it - but Danbi gives you a firm 'why on earth would you do that?' every single time you suggest it.

It's for this reason - the shrouded darkness and the bleary hungover eyes - that you almost think you're seeing things as you notice an object by your apartment door.

A bouquet. White roses. An easy dozen, of which you'll undoubtedly count as soon as you're close enough. The stems are emerald green, fresh and perfectly picked to construct the most beautiful arrangement you think you've ever seen.

Poised and pristine, they look out of place in your apartment block - but you know they'll look right at home on your kitchen counter in the vase Danbi stole from her family home a couple of holiday seasons ago (you'd just been using a pint glass beforehand (again, stolen by Danbi's nimble fingers, just from your local pub instead of her mother's kitchen cupboard)).

You tell yourself it's strange. Let your head whisper little lies as white as the rose petals, telling you that you can't imagine who'd be sending either of you flowers. Perhaps Tae for Danbi? A secret admirer?

But you know. You know who picked them out, who sent them directly to your door. You know who always chose the black and white design of the minimalist greeting card wedged in between the flowers.

You know, because you got these flowers a week after your first date with him . Got them after the fifth date, just because. You got them on your birthday. Valentines. First anniversary.

You got them, again, after that one argument when you'd sworn down he tasted like latex, which was strange, because protection had been off the cards for months by that point. You trusted him.

The last time you got them was a week after the breakup. Again, just because. Just so you knew he was thinking of you. Asshole .

And so you don't check the card. Just pick up the pot they're prettily displayed in, and type your door code in with a sigh. You lean your shoulder against the heavy steel to open it up, a little exhausted by the events of the night and the emotional labour you know looking at those flowers will have on you.

They're too pretty to throw away, mind you - and when you look at Danbi's mother's vase, you're sad to see the flowers given to you by Jeongguk in the sanctuary of his favourite cafe are now withered and pathetic. The water has all but evaporated away, and rogue leaves lay by the base of their glass holder. Shame.

What once were the most fantastic wild blooms are now skeletons of their former selves.

S'what you get for tearing the stems from their life source. How can you ever expect them to thrive in hostile conditions?

And so Jins's roses will take pride of place in your home, and you'll pretend not to care.

They'll replace what was left to wither by Jeongguk, and you'll ignore the fact it was you who should have tried harder to keep them alive.

Congratulations on the art show. Proud to see your progression. Sorry I couldn't be there. J x reads his calling card - and as much as you know you should really tear it up and feed it to the recycling bin, you can't bring yourself to. It's stuck on the fridge beneath a 'Welcome to Vietnam' magnet purchased in the airport during a layover, not because you've ever actually visited the country.

It'll stay there for months. Danbi won't think to discard it, and you'll forget that you ever put it there.

In fact, you don't notice it again until a few weeks later as you're rushing around, running late for dinner, grabbing a bottle of fizz from the fridge.

The flowers have all dried up now, tossed in the trash, and the vase is empty. They lasted not even a week before they began to wilt. Typical of Seokjin, you had supposed at the time. Permanence isn't his thing.

Slamming the fridge door shut, you don't have a chance to even consider getting rid of the note - but you do think that you should, and that's something at least. It's not like you've heard from him since that night.

Hell, you've barely heard from Jeongguk.

Little messages here and there have been exchanged, but nothing substantial. Nothing that addresses the night you spent in his bed. In fact, you're pretty sure he's been spending his nights in someone else's bed recently.

It's not an unfathomable thought to have. It's been about a month since you set up his blind date, and Jiyeong is apparently doing the hardest soft launch known to man. It's not even subtle at this point. Her Instagram stories - of which constantly seem to be updating - are littered with the essence of Jeongguk.

Mugs from the ceramic painting place were the first clue. A selfie of her in his jacket, the second. The third was a blurry club photo of a hand you wished you didn't recognise so well loosely holding onto hers in the midst of a crowd. You wonder if it was taken on the night of the art show, or if they've been clubbing together since that night, just the two of them.

You forget the fourth, and the fifth, and the sixth, and now there's been so many damn stories you've lost count. Just know that the most recent one was a mirror selfie from the gym, carefully cropped so that the guy who had been spotting her was out of frame - but his tattooed arm? Yeah . She'd left that in.

You wonder whose company he prefers in the gym, and know that it's hers. At least that way he can actually properly work out. You're aware he'll get glares of jealousy from the gym bros who have a thing for Jiyeong, unlike the confused stares of the same gym bros who had wondered why the fuck a muscle rat like Jeongguk was wasting time on cardio with a girl who preferred sitting on a stationary treadmill rather than running on it.

Danbi had laughed at your scowl when you stumbled across the story a few days ago. Told you to be careful. "If the wind changes, your face will get stuck like that."

Good , you thought. Maybe it should. Then Jeongguk would permanently be reminded of how insufferable you find this whole situation.

You couldn't care less about the fact he's dating. Couldn't care less for the fact he's dating her - hell, you'd been the one to set it up! What is bothering you is how quiet he's been. It feels like you've barely spoken to him all month - but rational thinking seems to go out of the window when it comes to him.

See, the thing, Jeongguk's silence? His avoidance of you?

It doesn't exist.

In your head, maybe, but not in reality. You're orchestrating some great loss for no good reason.

There's been no real change to how he communicates with you. He still messages you just as much. He'd sent you a tinyURL link just the day before just to disguise what he was really sending you - the breadfish website. It was like being rickrolled in the big year of 2022. Made you smile like a fucking idiot behind the desk of the art cafe. Hobi had looked at you like you had three heads when the song echoed into the room.

But you simply added a laugh reaction emoji to Jeongguk's message and locked your phone as if it hadn't made your day.

You're the one avoiding him .

And - fucking hell - you'd only seen him four days ago! Had gone for a post-gym coffee walk. Had spoken about everything - the science of pollination, your favourite supermarkets (Homeplus reigned supreme), the best song of 2009 (which had ended in the promise of a noraebang battle, because you couldn't decide between fireflies (even though Jeongguk couldn't remember owlcity's name) or good girls go bad (which also resulted in you explaining Gossip Girl lore he never asked for)) - and anything... everything and anything... apart from Jiyeong. You didn't mention her. Nor did he.

It's not like you've mentioned sharing a bed with him that one night either, so avoiding uncomfortable topics isn't entirely unheard of.

Thing is, you've both been pretending like things are absolutely normal. Still grab coffee together, still send each other dumb raccoon memes, still look for each other on Friday nights in the dark shadows of Dionysus.

The way you see it, if you don't make a big deal of things, they don't have to be a big deal. You've downplayed it all. Pretended like there hasn't been a weight on your chest since you left his apartment that morning.

That's one difference, you guess. You've not returned to his since.

That's what you're really missing; the sanctuary nurtured with Jeongguk in the confines of his room. Home away from home. 'The kids'.

But your head's all frazzled, and you've been trying not to focus on it too much. Just continue lying to yourself, as if an Oscar is dependent on your performance. You've gotten so good at acting as if you're happy with the current set up, you're managing to fool everyone - including yourself.

Hurrying down the stairs of your apartment, you know that your acting skills have to be on top form tonight. Can't be letting the pesky mask slip. Have worn extra glitter to keep it in place.

Jimin waits by the end of your road, engine running, eyes shamelessly on you as you head up the street towards him.

It's late December, and the shop windows are full of well-wishes for the upcoming festivities and special offers for last-minute gifts.

In your bag, you're carrying a bottle of whisky for Yoongi and a luxury bath bomb set for Seoyeon. You've no idea if the whisky is any good, but it was on the top shelf, so you're hoping it's alright. As for the bath bombs, they're your favourite (and will leave Seoyeon with a sheen of your signature glitter all over her skin afterwards), so you're not so worried about them.

The presents are more to say 'thank you' for hosting the Christmas Eve dinner, and less so intended to be actual gifts. As a rule, to make life a little easier for everyone, Secret Santa had been organised a few weeks prior. No other gifts allowed - but not taking something for the hosts felt wrong.

Seoyeon had sorted everything out for Secret Santa, so it really had been stress-free.

Yours (intended for Jimin) has been wrapped for the best part of a week and is ready to go. It sits snug in your bag, between Yoongi's whisky and your own bottle of vodka - it is Christmas, after all. The bottle of fizz you're holding by the neck? A little extra bit of festive liquid luck.

"Alright?" Jimin greets you with a smile as you pop open the passenger door and slip in beside him. Your bag is popped in the footwell, but you hold onto the prosecco.

"Happy Christmas," you smile - then glance up to check he hasn't put mistletoe above the handbrake. It's all clear. Surprisingly .

"What?" He asks, noticing the way your eyes dart around, but you dismiss his question.

"Just raring to go," you lie - and Jimin can see right through it. Doesn't care too much to ask any further.

He merges into oncoming traffic with ease. He's a smooth driver. Not as fast as Jeongguk, but just as competent. You know you shouldn't compare - but how can you not?

It was supposed to be Jeongguk giving you a lift to The Mins.

Was supposed to be him playing cheesy Christmas tunes and demanding you duet with him for the entire journey.

Was supposed to be him who stopped at a Mcdonald's drive-thru, 'cause he's addicted to the limited edition festive sauce that comes with the cheese bites.

Was supposed to be him who stopped in a side lane just down the road from Yoongi's place, so he could air his car out and make sure you both didn't smell like Maccies, knowing full well The Mins would be cooking up a storm.

Was supposed to be him .

And yet you're having to rely on Jimin - who you haven't seen since you last left his bedroom - to ferry you to Christmas Eve dinner.

It's not that you aren't grateful. Danbi is visiting family, and Hoseok always hangs out with his old school friends on Christmas eve, so you've been looking forward to this for weeks. It's always nice to be surrounded by people you care about, especially at this time of year. Far better than being alone.

"Spoken to Gguk today?" Jimin asks before he even bothers with other formalities. Knows that things have been a little... difficult, lately. Has noticed how antsy Jeongguk has been around the apartment. Short tempered. Impatient. Isn't sure if it's you or Jiyeong making him like this. Maybe both.

You're quiet for a moment as you wait for your phone to connect to his car speaker system. Are both amused and slightly disgusted by the name choice for his car - Park & Ride. A true lothario.

"Nope."

And then you realise that such a definitive answer makes way for a million questions, so you overcompensate.

"No need," you continue with a shrug. "He let me know that he couldn't do today, hence me asking if you could give me a ride - thanks, by the way - but other than that? I think we've both just been busy."

"Yeah," Jimin nods, then thinks, busy ignoring each other . "He actually asked me to give you a ride before you even called, so it's all good. No skin off my back.

"Thank you," you say regardless. "I really appreciate it."

"No bother," he shakes his head. "It's always good to have company - plus Yoongi lives so fucking far out of the city. I get bored alone."

"Well, consider me your very own entertainment system," you grin, as your phone finally connects to his radio system. His car is a lot different to Jeongguk's. No better, no worse. Just not the same.

Jimin doesn't force you to talk about Jeongguk like you half think he will. In fact, it's you who is the first one to mention him again.

"Bringing Jiyeong, isn't he?" You ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

He nods. "Mhmm. She wanted to spend Christmas with him, but he thinks it's too soon. This was his compromise, I guess."

You're silent for a moment, contemplating just what the fuck you've done to everyone's lives by setting him up with Jiyeong. Sure, it's not really a negative change, but it's a change nonetheless. Everyone's lives are affected by this. There'll be an extra seat at the table. Another present for Secret Santa.

Part of you doesn't understand why you're being so dramatic about it all. In the grand scheme of everything, Jiyeong changes nothing. Makes no difference if she's in attendance. The only thing it really changes is how Jeongguk will interact with you.

"That's nice," you say. You really want to mean it.

"Is it?" Jimin asks, his tone just as sincere as yours is trying to be.

"Mhmm," you nod. "It's good he's found someone."

Again, Jimin just asks, "is it?"

"Well, yeah?" You laugh softly. "I know he was hung up on Hayun for a while, so it's good that he's moving on."

Eyes on the road, Jimin smirks and gently shakes his head. "Think we've got different ideas of what 'hooked' means. Dumbass hasn't been hooked on her for months. Quite positively unhooked, if you ask me."

"Oh," you murmur. "Well, either way. It's nice having someone around this time of year."

"Is that what you're after?" He teases, knowing that you'd have had no problem trying to find that for yourself if you really wanted it.

"Couldn't think of anything worse," you grin - and you really do mean it. You've grown selfish in your singledom. Having to factor in someone else's feelings, their needs, their schedule, to your plans would just annoy you, you think.

You neglect to acknowledge how those things come without a second thought when you actually care about someone. It's not a chore, or an obligation. When you're into someone, you factor them in because life is better with them around. You'd rather disrupt your selfish ways to make room for them in your schedule.

"Me either, DB," Jimin agrees. "You're full of shit, though."

"Sorry?" You turn to face him, but his eyes are on the road, a smug smirk on his face.

"You're forgiven."

"No," you laugh. "Sorry as in 'what the fuck?' "

"That's far less polite," Jimin smiles, still, deliberately winding you up.

"So is telling someone they're full of shit!"

"Well, you are!" He laughs, looking up to the rear view mirror before he merges lane. "We both know if Gguk turned around and insisted on doing something that would disrupt your plans-"

"I'd tell him to wait his turn."

Jimin laughs again. "You're a liar."

"And you're a shit-stirrer."

He tilts his head a little, sticking his bottom lip out, as if he's considering your words - before conceding with a nod. "Yeah, you're not wrong. I just don't get the pair of you. Act like you're just friends, set each other up on blind dates, but shag ea-"

"Sorry?" You almost choke the second ' shag ' leaves his mouth.

"Forgiven," he smirks. "Again."

"Not what I meant," you protest. "Again."

"So what?" Jimin teases. "You're gonna pretend like you haven't?"

"We don't shag!" You almost shriek. It's not a lie. At least not anymore. "He's got a- well, I'm not really sure what they are, but it doesn't matter. He's seeing someone."

"So?"

"Oh my god," you say with even more horror than before. "Not everyone sluts themselves out for a quick thrill Jimin."

"True. But I do, and I know you do, too."

"You know no such thing."

"I've fucked you twice."

"Shut up."

"Is this what you're like with him, too?" He teases. It's all in good humour, but Jimin is trying to get under your skin.

Jeongguk wouldn't crack. Had said you'd rested some of your things on his chair when you came to say bye in the morning. Reckons you'd left it by accident.

Jimin's bed had been cold on the side that wasn't his and void of any perfume when he'd woken up. Knows you didn't sleep in his bed - but Jeongguk refused to admit anything, and so Jimin is seeing if you're easier to crack. Doesn't want the truth for truth's sake, but just because he loves being right.

"His skin ain't as thick as mine, poor baby needs a softer approach," Jimin adds. "Hope you're nice to him in bed."

"I've never been in his bed," you roll your eyes. "And poor baby ain't gentle in the slighte-"

"HA! So you are fucking him!"

"No!"

"Been trying to get the truth out of him for weeks," Jimin tells you.

"What truth?" You feign innocence once more.

" What truth? " He mimics, voice high in pitch and whiney - far whinier than you think yours actually is. "You're both as bad as one another. Why was your bra in his room after you fucked me?"

You're silent.

"It's a very simple question," he assures you.

You want to unbuckle your seatbelt, open the car door and roll onto the road. Don't care about the oncoming traffic. Would be far less painful than this conversation.

"The answer is simple, too," you say, deciding that deflection is the best way to go. "You're just not gonna believe anything I say unless it ends in an admission of us fucking."

"True," he concedes. "Look, I don't give a shit if you are. Accidentally gave him crabs once-"

"Sorry?"

"Forgiven," Jimin smirks, before deciding to just carry on with his declaration. "Was years ago, now. It's why he doesn't share towels. Anyways, what I'm saying is that we've shared weirder things."

"I'm not an object," you scoff a little, skipping the song that's softly humming from the speakers to something a little more lively. You're currently listening to some indie artist that Jeongguk had on once while he'd been studying during a hangout, and you don't like the constant reminders of him. The conversation is bad enough as it is.

"Nor were the crabs?"

Jimin, you decide, is one of the most complex people you've ever met. An interior designer with the simplest bedroom known to man; a charming lothario who is just as revolting as he is seductive. You're not really sure how he does it, but he does make you laugh at least. Mainly from confusion, but a laugh is a laugh. It's still enjoyable. He's nice to be around.

You're incompatible, to say the least, but he's fun, which is probably why you didn't mind going for round two - the more you get to know him though, the more you solidify the fact that round three is off the cards.

The rest of the drive goes without another mention of Jeongguk, and whether or not he's seen just as much of you as Jimin has. The man in the driver's seat is intuitive, though, and just knows . Doesn't need you to confirm it. Doesn't need Jeongguk to, either. Is content in his assumptions.

You're pleased to arrive before Jeongguk.

Seoyeon greets you with a hug as warm as a Daegu summer, and Yoongi's smile is just as toasty. Despite the freeze of winter months, the Min's cultivate a warmth that makes even the ondol seem redundant.

Yoongi studies the whisky with an impressed pout and a nod, reading over the label. "Good choice. Want some?"

Shaking your head, you pull out the vodka instead.

"Keep that away from Seoyeon," he jokes, which causes her to zoom back over to the pair of you with an enthusiastic smile.

"Keep what awa- oooh! Vodka," she grins. "Care to share?"

And so Yoongi's warning is redundant, because yes , you really would like to share. It's not that Yoongi doesn't want her drinking, it's just that he knows her like the back of his hand. Vodka always gets her a little too tipsy, and they've still got a meal to serve up - but if he has to take the lead, he'll take it, just so she can let her hair down a little. It's Christmas, after all. A time for celebrating.

Yet when Jeongguk arrives, Jiyeong in toe, you find yourself downing the dregs of your first drink just to wash down your apprehension. Don't feel like celebrating. Feel like commiserating. You've not been around Jeongguk while he's been with Jiyeong since Tae's art show.

Makes you think of the bar. Makes you think of your hand on his thighs in the dark shadows, and the heaviness of his presence behind you in the bathroom, wide eyes on his in the reflection of an aged mirror. Makes you feel guilty .

It's not like anything happened - but you condemn yourself because you know it wasn't right, even if it wasn't exactly wrong.

"Sorry we're late," he says, and it's bizarre how his voice alone settles the ache in your chest. "Traffic was a bitch."

He reaches behind himself for her hand, to guide Jiyeong further into the room. The way she holds it, and how her other hand wraps around his wrist makes you think now would be a great time for another drink. You chalk it up to your disdain for PDA - as if you hadn't watched on with a smile as Yoongi had pressed a tiny kiss against Seoyeon's head while she'd been pouring herself a drink.

PDA doesn't bother you at all. In fact, you'd once argued with Seokjin about the fact he never held your hand in public. Said he didn't like getting clammy palms.

Maybe that's it. Maybe you're jealous of the intimacy.

Jeongguk's made leaps and bounds since the first bird fell - but Jeongguk never had an issue with intimacy. That one was all on you. Trained by Seokjin, you've a lot to unlearn, even now. You weren't done with the birds. Nowhere near close.

Jeongguk's fear of rejection is still just as potent as your intimacy issues, he just masks it well. Lets Jiyeong take the lead. He doesn't reject her, but he doesn't open himself up for rejection either.

He glances over to you and nods, a small smile on his lips. Head to toe in black, he's dressed up a little bit. Is in slacks and a button-up, a leather belt around his waist. Still got his converse on, though. His dainty silver lip ring flips ever so gently, and it's like you've been drinking prosecco this entire time, a little fizz bubbling in your stomach - so you pour yourself a glass of it to disguise the feeling. Hold it up and nod, as if to say some silent cheers or celebration.

Jiyeong catches his gaze. Whispers something in his ear. Diverts his attention - and so you divert your eyes. Engage in conversation with Nabi and Tae - a stupid debate about the best pepero flavour. Tae swears down by the original, but Nabi is an almond girlie. You offend them both when you say you like the 'nude' flavour - where the chocolate is on the inside, the biscuit acting as an outer layer.

"Of all the things I've ever learnt about you, this is by far the worst," Tae tells you with such certainty that you can't help but laugh. Nabi defends you. Tells Tae at least your choice isn't 'boring' like his.

Eventually, as you settle around the dinner table, everyone gets involved, and Jeongguk is the worst offender. Says the cheddar cheese flavour is underrated. Even Jiyeong refuses to defend him, there.

"Right," Tae says in disgust. "Little Miss Nude and Mr Cheddar fucking Cheese, you can both get out. I'm not celebrating Christmas with either of you."

"What?"

"Oh, c'mon!"

You both protest, but Tae refuses to have any of it. It's all in good humour - everyone is laughing, and tipsy grins are on the faces of the people you adore the most. Even Jiyeong seems to be enjoying herself - but she'll only look at Jeongguk. Not you. The joke is only funny because he's involved. If it were just you, she'd probably not find much humour in it.

Nabi is quick to refill both of your drinks throughout the evening.

"Christmas is reserved for being drunk, and drunk only," she tells you with absolute certainty as you dillydally in the kitchen while the rest of your friends continue their conversation around the dinner table. Seeing her out of her shell is nice, so you don't mind her insistence. "It's the true Scots way."

You learn more about her family - Scottish on her dad's side. She'd usually be there for Christmas, but having spent the summer there, she'd opted for Christmas back in Korea, and regrets it. Loves her family dearly, and misses their tradition of getting absolutely blitzed every December. It's not necessarily the 'true Scots way' as she says, but it's her way - getting you guys buzzed is her way of feeling like she's 'home'. It's lovely to be included, you decide.

Her hair is up with a tartan ribbon - Black Watch, she tells you the pattern is. Deep green and dark blue, it couldn't be further from her family's rich red-based tartan - but it didn't match her outfit as well, and she's not too precious about it.

She babbles about her family, and asks about yours. Is just as interested in you as you are in her. There's a warmth to Nabi once she opens up. Despite how cold she'd been the first time you'd met her, it seems as if this is the real Nabi. The standoffish approach is unintentional, and she realises it does her no favours - but makes the friendships formed much more genuine.

Dinner is eaten. Compliments are given to the chefs. Seoyeon and Yoongi battle for the head chef title, but it's redundant because everyone's a little too tipsy for their own good. All you'll remember in the morning is that it was fucking delicious. Might even rival your mother's cooking.

Jeongguk sits on the opposite side of the dinner table, a few seats down from yours. Jiyeong is next to him, closer to you, almost like she wants a barrier.

Or maybe she's just a girl sitting next to the guy she's dating at dinner.

You blame the bitter thoughts on the vodka-induced haze. It's unlike you - but Christmas was always going to be difficult for you. It's the one time of year Seokjin would really pull through. All of your fondest memories with him stem from this season.

You'd grown a little dependent on Jeongguk to alleviate the strain caused by the ghost of Christmas past, but he can't do that now. It's okay, that he can't. He shouldn't. Not if he wants things with Jiyeong to work out - of which he does.

Part of him knows, though, that an argument is brewing. It's in the way Jiyeong stiffens every time you become a focal point of the conversation. How her eyes follow you as you re-enter the room with Nabi, your friendship something she can't understand because she's still on cold-terms with Nabi. Doesn't realise yet it's just how Nabi works - and while you'd been tolerant of it, Jiyeong takes offence.

Her discomfort also shows in her grip on Jeongguk's thigh and how it becomes a little tighter when he laughs at jokes you make. A reminder, he thinks. You're here with me. Pay attention to me.

He can't blame her. They've been dating for a month. This is their first major holiday. Of course she'd want things to go well. To feel special.

Gym sessions have doubled as dates, which has increased the time spent together, but he's also made an effort outside of their common space. They've been for dinner, been to the city's main amusement park. Done 'datey' things, because that's the 'done' thing. He holds her hand when they're together, and kisses her goodbye.

He's still yet to invite her back to his. Not for a fear of rejection, but because he still hasn't taken those damn birds down.

Sometimes she likes to argue with him for the sake of making him squirm. If a text comes through from you, he knows a row is due - but has learned that sometimes she orchestrates them just to get him in her bed. Manipulates him a little bit. Whines. Says she doesn't even think he likes her that much - so he tries to prove that he does.

Thinks that maybe sex could be the answer - and given how sweet and sincere she always is in the aftermath, and how she always says sorry for being mean when he's in her sheets, it seems like it does work.

For a while, at least.

And so that's how his weeks go. Jiyeong is fine until she's not, and then Jeongguk will fix things by fucking her - because how could you possibly be an issue when she's the one he's fucking? It's her name on his tongue, her tongue in his mouth, and vice versa.

But he's found he's adopted your behaviours. He never stays over. He'll spend the evening at hers. Let her do things you won't. Kisses her when he fucks her, because it's what feels right - but doesn't stay the night because it feels wrong . It is intimate. He's not sure he wants to take things that far, yet. Isn't sure he likes the lingering resentment that's building; how it feels like he's being conditioned to associate sex with the unpleasantness of an argument.

He tries not to think of Hayun, but he remembers how he'd fuck her, just hoping - praying - she'd realise his feelings for her. Doesn't like that he's fucking Jiyeong as a way to prove himself. It feels too familiar.

They're not official. Exclusive, yes, but not official. It's still in its trial period, which is further than he ever got with Hayun, though.

Jeongguk knows, deep down, that he's too much of a hopeless romantic to ever need a 'trial period'. Knows that if this was the right thing for him, he'd already be thinking about sharing a home and naming children. Just how he's wired.

But he's jumped in too quickly before, and it's never ended well. He's taking things slow, because he wants it to be different. Knows that love is a choice, so he's actively choosing her.

Isn't in love yet. Not even close. But he wants to be.

And so he ignores the fact he doesn't think he can peacefully coexist with you without Jieyong getting irritated because he thinks if he keeps choosing her, she'll understand. He thinks if he proves himself, his dedication, that she'll accept it.

He's trying .

Even as an outsider, you recognise this. Can see that sometimes he goes to do things - to speak, to joke - and then catches himself. Speaks to her instead. Includes her in conversations that she'd otherwise remain mute in.

He's trying , which is more than Seokjin ever did for you. Makes you appreciate Jeongguk's careful nature even more. You think that Jiyeong would be mad to give him up, and it appears that he's not intending on giving her up, so all that's left to do is accept that this is your reality now.

The birds were fun while they lasted, but you'd rather have Jeongguk around, than not at all. It's a small compromise - and maybe you're a few drinks too deep, but by the time Secret Santa exchange comes around, you find yourself smiling at how animated he becomes. His round eyes glow with excitement, enthused by the fun of it all. A big kid at heart, Jeongguk is the purest soul you've ever known.

He's the one who passes out the gifts, like a kid on Christmas morning organising the presents beneath the tree. He wants to touch them all, feel their weight, see if they make a noise. Also wants to unwrap them all, but knows he can't, so excitedly hurries them along.

You can tell almost immediately who he wrapped a gift for - his smile becomes nervous, nibbling down on his bottom lip as he tentatively observes Tae unwrap an immaculately wrapped parcel. You should have guessed, really, knowing how good Jeongguk is with folding paper, that it would be from him.

Inside is a painting by numbers book for beginners - "Oh fuck off," Tae laughs - and a pair of earrings that have tiny, fully-functional, watercolour painting sets dangling from them.

Tae is obsessed . Takes his small hoops out, and puts the earrings in immediately. They're ridiculous and everyone is aware of it, but the way Tae dips the tiny brush into his wine and uses it to wet some of the paint is amusing to everyone. He gets straight to work painting in the first page - which is quite literally a square with just a single number inside it.

The way Jeongguk beams as Tae gets to grips with it is so endearing that you find yourself just as enthused as he is.

He's laughing, all childlike and full of life, and you decide that not having him in your life would be a crying shame. You're grateful for many things, but moments like these? They're the cherry on top of a good life.

You're a little more nervous as Jimin begins to unwrap his present.

It's from you, not that anyone is aware - hell, you're not even sure Jimin will realise the joke you're making as he neatly removes the ribbons you've wrapped around his gift. Everyone watches on with great curiosity as he begins to decipher what on earth he's received.

It's a two-part gift. The first thing? A desk sign.

Don't touch my pens , it reads - until he slides a small tab across, which changes it to say 'Do touch my pen.'

He smirks. Thinks he knows where this is going. Thinks he knows who gave it to him - and he unwraps the second part of your gift, he laughs in a way you don't think you've ever heard before.

"Oh, you little fucker," he grins at you, holding close three brand new pens, that match the one he'd claimed to be his favourite on the first night you had met. It's all a bit tongue-in-cheek, and you know it could probably prompt a few questions. You're not too sure what everyone knows of yours and Jimin's shared history, but you decide you don't really care.

"It's an in-joke," Jimin tells everyone, not wanting to air your dirty laundry. He sets his desk sign in front of him, and changes it back to ' Don't touch my pens ,' then neatly lines his new ones into a row, a pleased smile on his angelic face. Looks up at you. Grins. "Good memory."

You just shrug, pleased that he finds humour in them. The smile on your face is warm.

The smile on Jeongguk's face? Gone.

It returns when Jiyeong goes to open her present. Whoever had her name made a conscious effort to make her feel included despite not knowing her all too well. They also probably asked Jeongguk for some pointers, but that doesn't matter.

"Oh, these are ideal," she grins at a set of workout dice. There are six, each covered in different workouts and stretches. A final one indicates how many reps should be done. "I'm so bored of my current routine. These are literally perfect."

There's a lot to be said for how someone receives a gift, and Jiyeong seems genuinely appreciative. Alongside the dice is a custom water bottle with her name on it, and a cheat-day chocolate bar, both of which are just as well received.

From across the table, you sit with a soft smile on your lips. Perhaps this new normal could be nice.

Jeongguk feels your gaze. Glances towards you. Is pleased by the look on your face. Smiles, too.

You're the last to receive your present. It's wrapped a little haphazardly, and truth be told, you've no idea who it could be from. So far, no one has admitted to anything.

Occasionally, you just know - like Jeongguk's gift for Tae.

You've no idea who gifted Jeongguk quite possibly the largest shirt you've ever seen in your life.

It's a T-shirt, but the sleeves end by his wrists, and the hem of the shirt is below his knees. A joke at the expense of his love for baggy clothes, he's wearing it with pride and a silly little grin on his face. It's impractical and ridiculous, but it sums him up perfectly. Maybe it's the sheer amount of vodka you've consumed, but you can't seem to stop laughing every time you look at him.

Jiyeong doesn't really find it that funny, but she laughs too because she doesn't like the way Jeongguk looks at you when you laugh.

Yoongi's had nearly half a bottle of whisky because every time he notices the tension, he downs his drink. Can't be dealing with it. Doesn't understand how no one else is privy to it.

When you've finally discarded the wrapping paper, you find yourself laughing. Of course you are - the gift is perfect .

You open the box up, and then everyone joins in with your laughter as you pull out a bloody disco ball.

"Incredible," you beam, letting it spin in front of you, soft giggles escaping your lips. The light reflects as you twirl it around, dappling everyone in the most gorgeous speckles. Ethereal and whimsical, it's perhaps the best secret santa gift you've ever received.

Jiyeong doesn't smile. Just looks at Jeongguk as he looks at you, and wonders why he's incapable of ever looking at you without that stupid fucking smile on his face. It irritates her.

You don't look at Jeongguk. Just at the disco ball. You fear he's got stars in his eyes - and when your body betrays your mind, and eventually does glance towards him, you're proven right.

Of course he does though. He's looking at his star girl, and would have galaxies in his eyes regardless. Always has done. Regretfully, always will.

See, the stars are just reflections of your glitter. They won't burn out. Will never disintegrate. Very bad for the environment.

Forever is a long time, but he thinks it's the only accurate timeframe he can give to the splendour of your sparkle.

As your eyes linger for just a moment too long, there's an acute awareness between you both that things were better before.

He misses stargazing.

You miss the way he watches you.

Jeongguk doesn't know what to make of it. Things should be better now. Things should feel right - but he's holding back the full smile he wants to give you. Feels like he can't enthuse with you. Knows it will lead to an argument, and he's been trying to avoid those. Knows that Jiyeong is at her worst when she's had a few drinks, and knows it won't take much for her to blow up at him.

The worst part? He knows when they stopped for gas on their way there, he'd returned to the car with snacks (of which she'd naturally been happy about) but also an air freshener in the shape of a tiny fucking disco ball. He'd found it hilarious. She'd thought it was cute, but didn't understand why he liked it so much. She liked how much he liked it though, so had hung it up for him while he was driving.

Jeongguk knows she isn't stupid. Knows dots are being joined in her head. Knows that when he saw that air freshener, he thought of you. Knows that he loved it because of you. Part of him didn't even realise himself at the time, but now that he comes to think of it, it's obvious.

Jiyeong's internalised rage could shatter the disco ball you're holding into a thousand pieces - and Jeongguk knows you'd still find beauty in it.

You're a hopeless romanticist, just like he's a hopeless romantic. Both find love in things you shouldn't; you in ideas, him in people.

So he just nods. Lets someone else make jokes about your disco ball eyes, and how it's like looking at a sculpture of you. Laughs as you fake offence for being likened to a ball-shaped object - but stiffens his back when he realises Jiyeongs strengthening grip on his thigh.

You pretend you don't wish Jeongguk would make a stupid remark about how he was the one who invented that nickname, and how he deserves the credit.

He just turns to Jiyeong and whispers something in her ear. You've no idea what he says, but she smiles. Better than the death glare you'd been getting previously, so you ignore it.

That new normal you had decided was okay? Yeah. You hate it.

That Oscar-worthy performance you've been putting on prevails, though. As the night dwindles on, you holding the disco ball close, fractured light painting your throat in different hues, you couldn't look happier.

Natural divisions form - Jeongguk ends up in the kitchen with Tae, Jimin and Jiyeong, while Yoongi stays with the girlies. Namjoon is off visiting family, so he doesn't have his usual right-hand man - but he has his wife-to-be and a little plait in his hair, so he doesn't mind all too much.

"It's upstairs," Yoongi says to you quietly a little while later. "Spare room."

You nod, knowing what he means straight off the bat. Glancing through the doorway to where Jeongguk has his arm looped around Jiyeong's shoulders, a pretty smile on her face, you frown.

"Go up," Yoongi just says. "I'll sort it. First room on the left. Door's open."

You do as you're told - only realising quite how drunk you are when you stand. Walking straight is never your strong point after a few drinks, but you've been sitting for so long that you didn't realise quite how bad it was.

The room Yoongi directed you to is quaint - a small bed, not quite a double, is snug against the window. All of the furniture is carved from the same wood, and you know instantly that Yoongi must have made every single piece of it. It's impressive. Commendable. You understand why Seoyeon is so smitten. There's something to be said for a man who has mastered his craft. Maybe that's why you like seeing Jeongguk behind the bar so much.

A thin box lays on top of the white quilt, denting it from the weight. You check it over. Open it up. Pout. It's perfect .

Crafted by Yoongi, a dark walnut cutting board engraved with Jeongguk's name sits perfectly in the box, a thin layer of tissue paper beneath it. One edge has the natural shape of the wood running up it, while the rest have been sanded to a gorgeous curve. In the bottom corner, Yoongi's logo - his own name - is branded into the wood. It's gorgeous. One of a kind.

After visiting Yoongi's studio together, and seeing Jeongguk delicately run his fingers along similar ones, an idea had brewed in your head. Thought it was apt, knowing he wants his own samgyeopsal place.

You've barely managed to close it again when you hear a small knock on the open door.

Turning, you're greeted by your favourite person, and you can't even hide your smile. He can't hide his, either. His oversized shirt is tied around his neck by the sleeves, as if he's wearing a cape. You think he's ridiculous and it makes you giggle.

"What?" he beams - 'cause he can't suppress his smiles, either. Has been holding them in all evening, but now it's just the pair of you, he can finally indulge.

Yoongi had pulled him to the side. Told Jiyeong he needed to borrow him quickly. Followed Jeongguk upstairs, but went to the bathroom instead. Told Jeongguk to go to the spare room.

Maybe the deceit isn't ideal, but it's for a good cause, Yoongi thinks. Would do it again, no questions asked. Thinks that this is worthy of breaking Seoyeon's 'no gifts other than secret santa' rule.

"Have I been lured here under false pretences?" He speaks quietly, moving a little closer, tapping against the door to push it nearly shut. It's ajar, but only just.

"Maybe," you whisper back. Take a step closer. He holds his hands out, palms up, for you to gently slap yours against his. The contact is innocent. He just misses being tactile with you.

"Maybe?" He raises his brows, tilting his head slightly. His eyes narrow, smile persisting, a small laugh stuttering between his lips as his nose begins to scrunch. He's as drunk as he is handsome.

"Maybe," you nod, before looking over to the box on the bed. "Santa's been."

Jeongguk still his hands. Holds yours a little. Pretends he isn't.

"For me?"

"Mhmm," you nod, pulling your palms from his grasp, reaching over for it. "Here."

He takes it slowly. Is apprehensive. It makes you laugh. Says nothing as he eases the lid off the box - then stops moving entirely as he realises exactly what it is.

"For the restaurant," you say softly, a nervous smile on your lips. Eyes wide, you can't fully work out what he's thinking. "When you finally open it. I know wooden chopping boards aren't, like, health and safety approved, but I wasn't really thinking about that when I decided to get you one, so I'll buy a new set when the time comes-"

"No," Jeongguk shakes his head. Finally looks up at you. Looks like he might cry. "No, this is perfect. Perfect . B, what the fuck?"

And then he laughs. Chokes a little, because he really is trying to hold back the fact he feels like he'll cry. Holds the board in one hand, and uses the other to pull you in for a hug so warm that it feels like you're being engulfed by a thousand flames.

You've always believed in his dreams with reckless abandon. Have never doubted him. Know that one day you'll be drinking purple starfuckers after hours at the bar of his very own samgyeopsal place. You will . You're sure of it.

And while Jeongguk's always quietly hoped that he'd be able to achieve his dreams, he's never had someone enthuse about it in the way that you do. Never had someone absolutely certain that his dreams would play an active role in their own reality.

But you do.

So he sets the cutting board gently down on the bed and fully wraps his arms around you. Hugs you because he doesn't know how else to convey the way it makes him feel. Appreciative? Maybe. But it's more than that. More than delight, contentedness, gratefulness. He's experiencing all of those things, but they're too simple for such a complex feeling.

"Perfect," he whispers against the side of your head. "So fucking perfect."

He doesn't clarify that he's talking about the cutting board. Doesn't think he needs to. Also knows he not talking about the board at all, but knows better than to admit that.

"I'm glad you like it," you smile against his chest, then pull away from the hug. "Just thought maybe you should start gathering your resources, yanno?"

It's a lie. You just wanted to get him a gift.

He picks it up again and traces the grooves, fingers tenderly drawing over the wood grain. Studies it, because he knows if he looks at you again, he won't be able to make sensible choices.

"I love it."

"Pretty, isn't it?" You grin, watching his hands delicately feel their way around the board.

He looks up at you briefly. His eyes linger, then fall back to his hands.

"Yeah," he smiles. "Very pretty."

You let him study it for a little longer, before encouraging him downstairs. You tell him everyone will be wondering where he is. You think they really will. Think he's the life and the soul. Fail to realise just because he's the person you're always focused on, doesn't mean that everyone else is.

"Wait," he says as you reach the top of the stairs, the board tucked beneath his arm.

"Mhmm?"

"Thank you."

"It's fine," you smile - but Jeongguk looks serious all of a sudden.

"I mean it, Byeol. You don't... This is..." he struggles to find the words, so just laughs. "I'm so glad to know you."

You can't help the smile that breaks on your face, like a shooting star in the darkest of nights. Your glitter reflects the warm light pooling from up the stairs, and Jeongguk realises he's missed you far too much.

"Knowing you is okay," you tease, before ushering him downstairs. "C'mon. Seoyeon was talking about playing a game just before we headed up. Don't wanna miss the fun."

You're also aware you've been away for a little too long. Know that Jiyeong will probably start getting antsy. You know in her position, you probably would feel the exact same, and you don't want to make life difficult for anyone.

"You go first," you encourage. "I'll follow in a moment."

He does as he's told, while you head to the bathroom and freshen yourself off. Wipe the glitter that trails down your cheek when you fail to compose yourself and find a tear falling. There's no reason to cry. Everything went well - but maybe that's reason enough. Maybe you were reminded of how good things were before you fucked them all up, by insisting on Jeongguk following through with that damn bird.

When you finally return, everyone is in good spirits. The night continues as such. Jeongguk and Jiyeong leave first, with Jimin joining their taxi because it just makes sense. Part of you revels in satisfaction when you hear Jeongguk state there'll two drops to the ride: Jiyeong's place, then back to his place for him and Jimin.

You catch a cab with Tae and Nabi a little while later, though you're sure in the morning you'll forget all about it. Will forget most of the evening, most probably. You're fucked. Nabi's mission? Accomplished - but she's just as bad as you are. Throws up in her bag in the back of the Taxi.

As you eventually meander up the corridor to your apartment, a small sense of dread swells in the pit of your stomach.

Much like the evening of Taehyung's art show, there are flowers by your door.

They're different, this time. Out of season, you think. Oranges and purples you'd expect to see in the warmth of early summer, not in the barren cold of winter - but they're familiar. A small bunch. Expensive because of the time of year, but minimal compared to the obnoxious roses you'd been greeted with before.

You're getting pretty good at mental gymnastics. Tell yourself maybe Seokjin fancied doing something a little different this time. There's no calling card, from what you can see - just a small box wrapped in brown paper and sealed shut with washi tape.

For some reason, you find yourself cursing when you notice the small detail, because you know exactly where you recognise it from. Your heart grows heavy, lips pressing together to suppress a pout.

See, Jeongguk had been lying about the traffic.

He was late because he had to drop by yours before heading up to Yoongi's place. Didn't want Jiyeong to ask questions, so went to yours before he got her, but also wanted to make sure you'd left your place first. Has Jimin on his friend finder app, so stalked him like a little creep to make sure nothing would overlap.

He's not too sure why.

When you pick the flowers up, you find yourself cradling them, almost. Far more care is taken than there was with the roses. These are more precious, you think - and yet you set them down on the counter first, and don't bother to sort the vase out.

Instead, you slide your thumb under a loose section of paper, gently prizing away the washi tape from the brown paper.

The box itself is no bigger than your palm. White once you remove the earthy-toned packaging, it's embossed with a small silver stamp of a company you've never heard of.

Nervousness finds its home in your diaphragm for no good reason. Delicately opening the box, you're greeted first by a small card. It's handwritten, unlike the ones that so often come with flowers from Seokjin.

But of course it is. Everything about Jeongguk is far more intimate. It's innate. Just who he is as a person. S'why he was so good with those pesky fears of yours.

When you finally start to read the note, you realise your vision is a little blurred from tiny tears making their presence known. You're not crying. Not really. Just a little emotional. You blame it on the vodka.

for the wind beneath my wings, and the washi tape that holds my fears safe.

what would i do without you?

keep on shining, disco ball x

Beneath the note sits a dainty silver chain. Resting prettily on the cushioned padding of the box is a small charm: an ornate silver origami bird.

You're not sure why, but you really do start crying, now. The tears fall silently, and speckle the countertop with tiny splashes, but you don't care to wipe them away.

In your back pocket, your phone vibrates. A picture sent from Jeongguk waits in your message feed.

Across town, he stands in his dimly lit kitchen, a glass of red in his hand as he leans back against the kitchen island. The chopping board is hung next to the stovetop, where a pot usually lives, but Jeongguk has hidden it away in the cupboard. Thinks Yoongi's handiwork deserves to be displayed - and he's right. The dark walnut wood looks gorgeous against the backsplash of his kitchen.

The picture sent to you is of his view, and he's pleased to feel his phone vibrate in his own back pocket just a few minutes later.

You reply with a picture, too.

It's of his gift card, with a hastily scribbled reply over the top of the photograph. You often annotate the pictures you send him, and it always makes him smile - but this time, he really does laugh.

Next to his question - what would i do without you? - your hot pink digital handwriting replies: idk - die, probably.

And then a second message pings through - a selfie, taken in the mirror.

Your hair is down, slightly kinked in places from your up-do, but ever so elegant as it drapes over your shoulder. Your roots are well and truly growing through now, and it makes Jeongguk smile. So much progress has been made. It's nice to see a physical representation of that.

Your eyes are a little bleary, but it could just be the alcohol, he thinks. Chooses to ignore the fact your nose is slightly blushed, too.

Tiny speckles of glitter catch the light all over your skin - your eyes, your cheeks, your throat, the top of your chest. Again, he ignores the fact you're without the clothes you had been wearing. There are still straps over your shoulders, but he knows you well. Knows you're in your underwear. Recognises the bra. Has taken it off you before.

Nothing is on show, but nothing needs to be. He's visualising it regardless. Hates himself for it, but can't seem to stop.

In fact, the only thing that does avert his attention is the silver pendant around your neck. It sits prettily a few inches above your cleavage, perfectly adorning you like fine jewellery should.

It's not like it was unreasonably expensive - just sterling silver - but something about it feels priceless. To him. To you. To the friendship you've cultivated and the lives you both lead; forever changed by a couple of purple starfuckers and a few bad decisions.

Something tells me this one won't fall, your caption reads.

Jeongguk purses his lips together. Looks at the chopping board. Shakes his head. Doesn't know how to reply.

So instead, he tries honesty.

You look beautiful.

The message sits in his side of the chat, unsent. He knows the compliment is too heavy. Doesn't matter if it's true or not. So he rephrases, and presses send on something else.

Jeongguk: suits you, b

Of course it does. Was chosen for you by someone who knows you better than you know yourself.

You: best friend in the whole entire world x

You: what would I do without you?

Jeongguk smirks to himself. Doesn't even think as he types.

Jeongguk: die, probably

Your reply makes his smile grow even wider.

You: till death do us part ;)

He knows he shouldn't find such comfort in the joke you've just sent, he can't help it.

Jeongguk knows you'll be away visiting family over the next few days, just like he is. Knows that he won't hear from you much. Understands why. Doesn't mean he enjoys the prospect of it.

He considers inviting you around, now.

But it's Christmas morning, albeit very early and he knows the implications of such a thing. He wouldn't mean anything by it, he's just missed you. Missed hanging out with you.

But he invested himself in someone else because of the investment he made in you, and the birds. He has expectations to live up to. Doesn't wanna let you down.

Neither of you sleep as well as you should. Life was easier as a kid, the excitement of Father Christmas visiting enough to wipe you out entirely. Even the alcohol isn't enough to lull you into a peaceful equilibrium.

Instead, Jeongguk stares at the birds on his ceiling. You twiddle with the bird around your neck.

It's apparent that neither of you will be waking up to the gifts you really want beneath your trees - and you've only got yourselves to blame.

Merry fuckin' Christmas.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[buckychristwrites]

Could This Be | Chap. Nine | j.t.

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: One minute, you're single and working for AFC Richmond as the team's medic. The next minute, you're in a fake relationship with the team's handsome striker who you know next to nothing about.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Discussions of Previous Emotional & Physical Domestic Violence. Cussing. Fake Dating

A/N: :)

Masterlist | Could This Be Masterlist | Main Blog

What’s the famous saying? That in a room full of people, you could still feel your loneliest?

That’s how you felt in the hospital waiting room, surrounded by the entire AFC Richmond team and coaching staff.

The telly was playing Friends reruns, which was fine for the first little bit. But after three hours, you were ready to throw something through the screen. Besides that, the tiny waiting room with white walls and filled to the brim with people was mostly quiet. The melancholy in the air choked out any sort of conversation as everyone sat around, on their phones or staring at the floor, just waiting.

Jamie’s mum had shown up at some point amongst the chaos. She didn’t look how you expected her to, but then again, you hadn’t really put a lot of thought into how his mum would look. It was clear where Jamie got his personality. She was friendly, giving a hug to everyone in the room, except you, but only because you had strategically stepped behind Roy at just the right moment so that she wouldn’t see you. She had spent most of the time in the room with Jamie, while his stepfather, Simon, hung out with the rest of the lot. 

Whenever Georgie came out to give updates, or to just take a break, you’d find yourself trying to hide from her. Pressing your back in the corner and hoping you wouldn’t be noticed. Fleeing to the toilets. Keeping a magazine in front of your face. It wasn’t immediately clear to you why meeting her would be such a bad thing. Maybe it was because you found yourself to somehow be at fault for Jamie’s accident.

Maybe he would’ve seen the other player had he not been distracted by the conversation prior to the match.

Maybe he wouldn’t have been hurt so bad if you had given him more time to heal before clearing him to play. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have been on the pitch at all. 

“Hey,” Keeley’s gentle voice brought you out of your thoughts. When you looked up, she was taking a seat next to you. “We’re all gonna head to the canteen and grab a bite to eat. Do you want to come? Or do you want me to grab something for you?” Stretching from the long hours of sitting, you shook your head.

“I’m not really hungry,” You admitted. She cocked her head to the side.

“When was the last time you ate?” 

Squinting your eyes, you tried to remember. The clock on the wall informed you it was just after midnight, and from what you could recall, you hadn’t even eaten breakfast that morning before the match. 

“Around lunch yesterday, I think.” 

Keeley frowned. “Maybe you should go home for a bit. Have a shower, get some sleep.” You were shaking your head long before she finished her words.

“I’ll stay.”

She stared at you for a long time, as you let your eyes drop down to the floor. The wheels were turning in her head to say something of comfort to you, but nothing must’ve come, for she gave your shoulder a loving squeeze before turning and walking out of the now empty waiting room. Even though you hadn’t really said much since your arrival, you wished that someone would have stayed behind to keep you company. 

You laid your head against the wall.

Inhale.

Exhale.

From what you knew, he was doing surprisingly well, all things considering. He had a pretty severe concussion, as far as they could tell, but they couldn’t figure out why he had stopped breathing, which was why he was being kept for observation. They suspected that it was just from the swelling, but it was hard to say. The doctor minced no words when he told Georgie that he more than likely wouldn’t be able to play for the next month. He really hadn’t been awake much, mostly resting due to the extensive injury as well as the intense pain medication regimen they had him on.

Yawning, you looked out the window. The hospital towered over London, the city looking beautiful with the evening lights on. You stared down at the cars and the people, all of them looking as small as ants, as you wondered if they felt as small and insignificant as you did.

“Just us, then?”

You jumped, turning to find Georgie at the doorway, smiling at you. Squeezing your arms around your torso, you gave her a half baked smile.

“Everyone went to grab something to eat,” You told her. Tapping the frame with her hand, she entered. As she got closer to you, your heart picked up in pace. 

“You must be the infamous girlfriend I’ve been hearin’ all about,” She said in a gentle voice as she sat down next to you. Her accent was just like Jamie’s, which was weird to you for no particular reason other than you weren’t used to hearing it off anyone else. “It’s lovely to finally meet ya.” 

“I’m sorry you heard about me through the papers,” You said, finally meeting her eye. The furrow in your brow suggested you said something wrong.

“The papers?” She asked, leaning back as she laughed. “Love, Jamie talks about ya all the time!” Heat rose in your cheeks at the idea of Jamie talking to his mom about you. She shook her head, still smiling. “He calls a couple times a week. Not once have we spoken where ya weren’t mentioned. I feel like I know ya already, and we only just met!” 

Your arms loosened as you sat up straighter. “I’m sorry we didn’t meet under better circumstances then.” Her smile faltered ever so slightly.

“Ahh, he’ll be okay.” She sniffed, looking down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. “He’s strong.” She looked back at you, nudging you with her elbow. “I also saw you takin’ care of him on that field. He’s lucky you were there.” 

You said nothing, instead just giving her a smile before looking down at the floor. You didn’t feel like anyone should be lucky that you were there. 

“D’ya know what? Why don’t you go see him?” She asked. Your eyes snapped back up.

“Oh, that’s okay,” You said while trying not to sound so tense. “You can-“

“Nonsense!” She urged, waving you towards the door. “He’s just been sleepin’. Just keep him company. Give me a bit of a break.” Her smile was so loving, so encouraging. It was enough to get you off the chair and walking blankly out of the room. 

The hallways made you miss the peace and quiet of the waiting room. Staff were rushing and running up and down the hallways. The sound of beeping coming out of every doorway. In the distance, a phone was ringing repeatedly without being answered. Why wasn’t anyone answering it? 

His room appeared to your right. Staring into the cracked open door, you could see the end of his occupied bed, the blankets having a lump shaped as feet underneath it. It was a single room, which was damn near impossible to get in any hospital these days, but you were sure Jamie Tartt was being given the VIP treatment. The door didn’t creek when you let yourself in. Cold air was rushing out of the air conditioning unit, forcing you to hug your arms around your torso again. When you were far enough into the room to see the entirety of the room, you froze.

Jamie looked better than you had imagined him to. Being a medical provider yourself, it was easy to let your mind spiral to the worst case scenario. In your head, you pictured severe bandaging and tubes down his throat (despite no one ever having mentioned him being ventilated). But here he was, looking like he was just peacefully resting. No bandages at all. No tubes to be seen. Just an IV in his arm with fluids running down, attached to a pump that was providing him with medication for pain. 

A chair was staged next to his bed. It was clear Georgie had put it there, considering the armrest of it was touching the bed rail. 

You slowly sunk down into the chair, letting your back fall into the seat as your eyes never left Jamie. His hand was close to the edge of the bed, suggesting his mum had been holding it. Should you? You wanted to. Would he want you to, though? 

The heart monitor beeped at a low volume along with the beat of his heart. You watched the vitals machine, letting the information mull inside your head. They were pretty perfect for a guy who had just, hours before, needed someone to breathe for him. You could still see it when you closed your eyes. The image of Jamie with the mask on, his skin a grey colour, his chest rising and falling in a way that didn’t look real. It was burned into your brain like it had been branded there by fire. 

You had never believed for a second that he would die. But as someone who had seen tamer injuries take an awful turn, the thought was always there. What if? What if the last feeling he had felt was anger towards you? It made you sick to consider.

The ruffling of the pillow was what let you know he was waking up. Your eyes found him just in time to watch his flutter open. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, as if he was trying to figure out where he was. He looked to his left first, gazing out the dark windows, before turning his head again and finding you.

His face relaxed.

“There she is,” He said through slurred words. “My favourite fake girlfriend.” He smiled goofily up at the ceiling. Then, he eyed you again. “Are you still my fake girlfriend?” You bit your lip.

“Yes, Jamie,” You said. “Although, you shouldn’t call me that right now. Your mum is here.” He blew a raspberry. 

“Fine. My very real girlfriend, then.” 

“How are you feeling?” You asked him. He shrugged lackadaisically.

“Weird,” He said. “Me head feels foggy.” You nodded.

“That tends to happen when you get kicked at full force in the head.” 

He snickered. “Goofy girl.” He looked around again before looking back at you. “D’ya know, I dreamt about ya when I was knocked out.” 

You felt like you had just gotten kicked in the chest by a donkey. “What?”

“You were tellin’ me I was gonna be fine,” He explained. “I was in a room by meself, but I could hear ya. Looked everywhere for ya.” He shook his head. “But you’re really good at hidin’.” The smile slowly fell from his face. “I was so scared when I couldn’t find ya.” 

Tears fell from your eyes as you slipped your hand into his. He fit his fingers between yours, as if it was second nature for him to do so. 

“I’m just so glad you’re okay,” You sighed. When he noticed you were crying, he shook his head lightly.

“Nooooo, don’t do that,” He said, pulling at your hand to bring you out of your seat. “Com’ere.” You stole a glance at the door before plopping into the bed, curling carefully into Jamie’s side. You were on your side, head on the shoulder of his arm that was wrapped around you. 

“I’m sorry,” You said as he pressed his nose into your forehead. “For the chat we had in the car.” He shook his head. 

“I was the one bein’ a prick,” He said. “I shouldnt’ve yelled at ya. I just…” He paused, turning his head upwards again to stare at the ceiling. You placed a hesitant hand on his chest, which he immediately took with his free hand, thumb stroking the top of yours. “I think… maybe I just got used to this. It’ll hurt when it’s done. Like an actual breakup, d’ya know what I mean?”

“I do.” 

He looked down at you again. You could see the hesitation behind what he wanted to say next. After a moment, he sighed. “Think I fell in love with ya a little bit, if I’m honest.” 

Your jaw tensed as the butterflies in your stomach began to flutter. 

“Breaking your own rule,” You remarked playfully, but he shook his head.

“No, the rule was that you-“ He pointed at you, his hand still holding yours. “-couldn’t fall in love with me.” He pointed at himself before letting his hand drop again. “Never said nothin’ ‘bout what I do.”

“Clearly you should’ve.”

He huffed. “Obviously.” 

You sat quietly for a long time, debating. Contemplating. It was all so tempting. To just lay it all out there. To tell him the truth. But the fear was so vivid. So loud. Telling you that it wouldn’t last forever. That eventually he’d get tired of you, just like they always did. 

“I just don’t think I’m ready,” You finally admitted before burying your face a little further into his shoulder.

“For what?” He asked, shifting slightly. Looking back at him, you stared into his wide ocean blues as they waited so patiently for your answer.

“For you to love me.” 

He sat with that for a moment, his thumb stroking your shoulder. You were surprised with how calm you felt in the moment. Now that the words were out there, you felt relieved. Like a weight had just fallen off your shoulders. 

“Who said I’m ready to love you, hmm?” He asked, taking away the serious tone of the conversation. The corners of your mouth flicked upwards.

“You did,” You said. “You just said-“

“I said a little bit, thank ya,” He corrected you. 

“Oh gosh,” You said, feigning remorse. “I’m so sorry for my error.”

“Ya should be. Twistin’ my words.” 

The two of you laid in silence for a little while. Every inhale welcomed his scent into your lungs. It was calming to be in his arms like this. The only thing stopping this from being perfect was the sound of the heart monitor, which had increased in speed ever since you had joined him in the bed.

“So I’ll let you know when I’m ready,” He said softly. “Unless you’re ready before me, then you let me know first, deal?”

You heard the meaning behind his words.

When you’re ready for this to be real, let me know.

Blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, you moved your hand to his opposite shoulder, giving him a squeeze.

“Deal.”

~

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