#this is the first thing I'm posting in the ons tag

[amaradangeli]

I've been talking about this (in my tags) a lot lately, but now I'm compelled to tack onto someone else's (practically perfect) post, because man is my current relationship with Fandom complicated. Let's back up. (And this is gonna get long.)

In 1994 I first started writing what I came to know as fanfic. In fat lil' notebook I wrote stories about the character from a favorite show (The Power Rangers... I was 11). I thought Kimberly and Tommy's relationship should have been a LOT more intensely romantic than it was. (I was writing for more sexual content than anybody would expect from an 11 year old and there are probably reasons for that, but they aren't important; what IS important is that I guarded that notebook with my life and took it EVERYWHERE). I wrote all the time. In 1994 the writing I was doing was solely for me. I showed no one. I didn't know that writing about favorite fictional characters was a thing a lot of people did. I thought I just had an active imagination (and sure, I guess I did). I lived on a farm. I started playing elaborate stories out in my head while I mowed. I could spend hours on the mower or tractor creating a world in which my new favorite characters, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, were cohabitating and raising a couple of inherited kids. I did this a lot. In 1996 my grandparents got AOL. We all lived on the same farm. At my house, where my mom worked from home/owned a business, we had The Internet, but it used a browser and you had to know where you were going online and what you were doing. I was 13 and The Internet wasn't something my rural school taught us a lot about. We'd had Prodigy when I was younger, but something about AOL was so very accessible. I spent so much time at my grandparents house on their computer. I found the Delphi message boards for X-Files and joined Fandom at large for the first time. Eventually, I learned what fanfiction was. Back then, people used to post stories to threads on the message boards and you'd get one "chapter" in a post and then all the comments/replies would be inline. It was so much fun.

Then I found the Gossamer Project, my first experience with an archive for fanfiction.

Then, in 1998/1999 I started posting my own stories on the Delphi boards and then on Gossamer.

I went away to college in 2001 and by then was also part of The West Wing fan community. I started posting on Fanfiction.net as well as at The National Archive. I wrote Josh/Donna fics and it was a big fandom. I wasn't widely read, but I loved doing the writing. I also loved reading all the terrific work that was being put out.

In 2008ish I was a big-time Bones fan and was in fan communities/on message boards and posting on FFN. I met people in the Bones fandom that I'm still in contact with today. It was there where I first realized that I was a writer that people enjoyed reading. I learned a lot about how to craft a story and the importance of characterization.

I read (but never wrote) BtVS Spuffy fics when I found that show (after it was off the air). Then... I found Stargate SG-1. By the time I joined the fandom, the show was over. I streamed it on Netflix and fell in love with Jack O'Neill and Sam Carter. I, once again, jumped into the fray. But it was my first time in a fandom for a show that was done. I didn't realize it at the time, but the community that existed there was uncommon. The show was intensely popular, despite being over, and the shipping community was very active. Not just Sam/Jack shippers, either! Lots of Gen fans exists, but also for other ships. Jack/Daniel, Sam/Daniel, Sam/Janet, OT3 and OT4 ships... honestly, it was a big and dynamic community, even by the time I got there. Despite the fandom being old, my work was well received and I had a pretty large (for me) and reliable reader base. My work was always met with eyes and I could count on getting feedback on my work.

I was spoiled, and I didn't even know it. I was compelled to write. I wrote and wrote and wrote. I met so many terrific people (people I'm still real life and online friends with to this day despite so many life — and fandom — changes).

I only participated in that one fandom for years. I kind of/sort of read fics in others. I think I wrote one or two fics for other ships/fandoms but never really got into the communities/cultures of them.

Then I started watching The Rookie in 2021/2022. The same magic happened with Chenford as it did back when I feel in love with Sam & Jack. And because I found it while the show was still popular and putting out new episodes, it was magical! I was writing in a live fandom for the first time since my Bones days! I remembered what it was like to get that instant feedback and gratification I hadn't experienced since Bones (and The West Wing) before that. I got a lot of feedback on my work again and it was amazing. I learned that while I definitely wrote the stories I wanted to read (and in that way, I wrote for myself), I was also the kind of writer that only thrived when I got that real-time support/feedback/ego-stroking (let's be real, that's what it is). I joined the fandom almost just in time for the ship to go canon and, for me, that's a death knell, and it was sad but it was intensely fun for a short while.

I got busy. I'm a grown-ass adult now and while I'd love to be immersed in fandom all the time, I have a big job and it's hard to find the time. I also have a lot of anxiety and it was poorly managed long enough that I didn't have the brain space to be part of fandom.

Then, I found The Last of Us. Joel Miller hit me like a ton of bricks. I was inspired to write again for the first time in almost 3 years. I jumped in full-force. I was reading ALL the things. I tried to make sure I was engaging in the comments section of works, and, as I started writing and posting, I doubled down, remembering the importance of knowing people were reading and enjoying your work.

But that fandom was a very different place than any I'd been in before. It seemed to be a largely closed community populated by a lot of very young (I think) people. The culture was different. The way they played together was different. The works that garnered attention were different, too. That's okay, it takes all kinds! I wrote madly. 40K words worth of fic that I painstakingly edited for public consumption and shared.

And... some people read it! That was very cool. They were quiet readers, they didn't engage with me on socials or in the comments, but they didn't *know* me. I went on like this, posting several times a week and garnered 2 comments. The work seemed well received by those two readers, but... they never engaged after their initial comments. No one else did, either. I realized the work I was writing wasn't what the fandom wanted to read. And it stopped being fun. (I took the work down, unwilling to abandon it but also unwilling to watch it languish unloved.)

Guys... I've stopped writing TLOU stuff. I've got three stories fully plotted and I *want* to write them. But I don't want to write in a vacuum. I can write them for just me and not go through the added work of editing.

I found The Pitt recently and, despite it going against what I typically like in characters and ships, fell down a Mel/Frank rabbit hole. I'm plotting! I want to write. But I'm finding myself still snared in Joel Miller want.

I'm paralyzed in young fandom.

I don't know what's happened to fandom, I don't know if it's all fandoms, but I'm thinking it's more widespread than TLOU. Where's the community and the welcome wagon? Why are we just blindly consuming work that people have poured time and sweat and tears into? Why aren't we out there feeding our writers and artists and letting them know that we see the work they're doing?

Is this post-pandemic, Gen-Z fandom? Are our attention-spans so short we can't engage with people who make things we like? Are we too used to living in a world of content creators whose contributions just slide in front of us with no effort?

Because you know what I noticed when I was posting TLOU work? My tumblr posts would get a handful of likes but no shares. Has fandom forgotten how this works? Are we so beholden to algorithms that we no longer attempt to curate our own experiences?

At 42, I'm now older in fandom. Things have changed a lot and the tech and infrastructure we have exceeds so many of our wildest expectations of what we'd have access to. But some of the ways we're (not) engaging with each other now is negatively impacting the fandom experience. These are strange and unprecedented times for a lot of reasons. Something we can control is the way we interact with people and the way we engage in fandom.

I hope we get back to some of the behaviors that made fandom so fun (and sometimes so infuriating). I hope we remember to engage with people as if they're people again. I think that's what modern fandom is missing.

Not people saying “Fandom has always been like this” in that vent post I made. No. It hasn’t always been like this. Fandom has NEVER been like this until recently and if you were in fandom pre-tumblr purge, pre-twitter, pre-netflix boom, pre-tiktok….then you would fucking know it was nothing like this.

We still had the drive to create. We still sold prints and charms and made zines…but it was never like this.

The introduction of streaming, binge shows that drop all at once, tiktok and vine RIP i still love u vine but you were the beginning of a particularly ugly era) creating this bite sized, quick paced ‘content’ era of creation and it bled out into fucking everything else.

Fandoms didn’t die down when the show ended or the season was over. You didn’t mass unfollow artist, writers or moots just because they changed fandoms. There wasn’t this need to please the algorithm in order for your posts to get seen by people and enjoyed.

Fandoms used to last YEARS. Star Trek is literally the oldest running fandom out there and you got people in there that could care less about the new stuff and still have been happily prancing through their fucking fifty year old fandom today. Hell, even SPN after all it’s fuckups and shitshows has a dedicated fanbase STILL creating tons of art and fic.

There is no patience anymore. No calm feeling of taking in fandom and friends at a pace that which doesn’t make you stressed and is still fun.

Do I blame fandom for this? Of course not, but people are complacent with it and start changing their vocab to accommodate and end up making the situation so deep it cant be fixed.

We call Art & Fic Content now, completely stripping the value of what it is to a level of consumerism instead of personal entertainment & community bonding.

[angelltheninth]

Asking the Huntrix What ILY Means

Pairing: Rumi, Mira, Zoey x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, protectiveness, jealousy

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Saw this meme going around so of course I'd write it for my new favorite trio.

RUMI

"From what I know it means... well... it means... I love you. And I do you know! Where exactly did you see that though?" Her shy demeanor turned curious, her lip caught between her teeth.

You tapped on your phone, the lock screen of the two of you with a bunch of hearts illuminating the table. "I posted that picture of me getting my nails done. Later I checked the comments and I saw a lot of those. I could have looked it up I figured I could ask you first. I thought it might be some Huntr/x thing."

Rumi blinked slowly, her patterns lighting up like a rainbow as she started laughing but not at you, never at you. She closed the distance between your bodies, nuzzling her face against your neck and letting out a loud rumbling sound.

"You are so cute! I'm gonna start leaving those comments under everything you post, so our fans know that I love you the most." Hundreds of kisses, and a subtle dragging of teeth, were already more than enough to convince you of that, but it couldn't hurt to let the fans know how much she loves you.

MIRA

Her arms tightened around you as you asked that entirely innocent question. She glanced at the phone in your hands, then back to you. "Means I love you, of course. Who told you that?" You chuckled as Mira frowned, "Seriously babe, who told you that?"

"It's all over the comment section of the photo shoot. Well those and some... things I'd rather not repeat. But mostly that one." You turned and moved to sit on Mira's lap, her arms holding you possessively. "ILY, Mira."

The eyeroll was so intense her eyes almost got stuck. It would be a shame because they're beautiful. "That doesn't sound right when you say it out loud. Just say you love me."

"I love you, Mira." You kissed her right as she was about to say it back to you. "I love you, Mira. I love you so much, my pretty girl." Mira groaned against your mouth, her hands running up and down your back, your thighs, trying to convey the words that you silenced with her lips. You knew you loved each other, but every once in a while it was nice to affirm it.

ZOEY

Zoey tapped her chin and let out a long thoughtful hum, her whole body shimmying in your lap. "Well... it means something I tell you every day. Something I told you this morning. What was that again?"

"I love you?" The moment the words left your mouth the meaning of the letters hit you. It was that simple, now you felt a little silly. Not that you had time to dwell on it as your cute girlfriend turned sideways and kissed your cheek with a loud mwah sound.

"And I love you too!" She leaned her head against your collarbone, her hands quickly grabbing her phone and typing something up. A few seconds later you heard a message sound go off. On the screen was a message from Zoey. "ILY." And a whole lot of heart emojis. You chuckled, one hand winding up around her and the other typing out the same message.

Squealing she hugged you tight and attacked you with kisses, "You're so silly." And you loved her for it. Actually it added a lot to her charm, in your personal opinion.

[nexamoon]

all thanks to you 𖹭.ᐟ

pairing : arthur morgan x fem!reader

summary : it was no secret to you that arthur was insecure about his looks. only he didn't expect you to get emotional over it.

cw : sliiight angst (?) but good ending, fluff, arthur is insecure, reader tries to comfort arthur, happens after they made love

credits : got the header from pinterest, i have no clue who the artist is i'm sorry :(

wc : 1.6k (i keep writing short stuff help)

a/n : i doubted posting this at first because i lowkey hate it, but then i remembered the purpose of my blog is to share my writings and not let them rot away so.... here we are. (ó﹏ò｡) i didn't know how to tag this tbh, it isn't too angsty but eh, it's not all fluff either... but anyway. thank you so much for the support on my last post, every note means the whole world to me ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

For once, you felt at peace.

In your life as an outlaw, this was a rarity. But all thanks to him, the impendence of an uncertain tomorrow blurs, and whatever turmoil held your heart hostage at the moment instantly faded.

All thanks to Arthur Morgan.

You were laying on his chest, both breathless after an intense lovemaking session that served as stress relief for both of you.

What initially started as friends sticking together through thick and thin soon turned into something more. Something beautiful that none of you were expecting, but welcomed warmly nonetheless.

Well, how could anyone blame you? The man was handsome, and kind. Had the right amount of sass to keep things interesting. You should've known this would be a brew deadly for you; or maybe you were simply in denial to avoid another heartbreak, unnecessary added turmoil.

Your eyes were closed, your expression so peaceful and full of bliss that anyone who saw you would think you ascended to heaven and returned anew. Which you sorta did. All thanks to him.

You feel fingers running through your tangled locks, tenderly reaching for your scalp, scratching it gently.

Oh, how you adored the way his rough hands would soften just for you.

"You okay?"

Another thing you adored about him. How attentive he was, making sure your every need was met.

It was nice, to feel like the center of someone's world. Even more when that same person was the center of yours.

You give him a tired, raspy hum, opening your eyes to see his blue ones already waiting for yours on the other side.

"Mhm... Very okay."

He gave you a soft smile and his chapped lips met your forehead.

"Good..."

You couldn't help the giddy smile that graced your face, an overwhelming surge of affection taking over you.

You keep quietly gazing at him. You often did that, to Arthur's incomprehension.

Don't get him wrong; he absolutely loved studying you, like he would study the next sight that would find itself captured with controlled pencil strokes in his journal. And well, you often were the sight in question.

But him? Why would you admire him as if he had hung the moon, and all the stars, just for you? (Not that he wouldn't have done it if given the chance, but that's besides the point.)

He was confident in many things about himself... his physical appearance though, wasn't one of them.

You'd often tease him about how you'd let him stare at you as long as he wanted, but that he'd often shy away and make you stop when it came to him. Told him it was not fair. To you. To him too.

"You're quite the sight yourself." You'd tell him.

But no matter how many times you'd repeat these words, or use other words to convey the same message— that he was the most handsome outlaw in all of America... that will never even begin to crack his thick skull. Just like now.

You noticed a faint rosy color bloom on his cheeks before he pulled you closer, hiding your face in his chest so you couldn't see him anymore, so you wouldn't realize how much of an effect your unabashedly loving gaze had on him. That didn't please you though. Your mumbled words come out muffled.

"Arthur... wanna see you."

"You've seen me plenty enough, darlin'."

You try to lift your head from his chest but his grip felt like iron. He tried diverting your attention with words.

"Just lemme hold ya like this. Ain't it nice?"

"Mmm yeah but I wanna be able to look at you too."

"There ain't nothing to see, hun. Same old face, same old me."

His words make you groan. Not of annoyance, but more of exasperation. How could you make him see what you saw? Hell— even you weren't the most confident person but... God. If the way he looked at you didn't make you feel like one of those antique goddesses, muses to many who carefully carved them in stone to preserve their beauty. And in many ways you were his muse.

If, regardless of words, Arthur didn't see himself through your eyes, doesn't that mean you're failing your duty as a lover? Do you not make him feel beautiful enough? Are your words empty echoes your actions do not mirror?

Your mind was actively searching for a reason why, a pout adorning your lips and the usual peace in your eyes troubled.

Your silence must have perturbed him because you could've sworn you've never heard his voice sound so small.

"Hey... You mad at me?"

You blink a few times, pulled away from your reflexions and contemplating how to explain how you feel to him instead.

You sit up on your elbow and let your gaze wander down his body; littered with enough scars to scare away your average person. But not you.

"I'm not mad at you... I'm just sad to see you think so unfairly of yourself."

You trace down some faint scars he had on his left rib. Bullet wounds, stabs... He'd seen it all.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you, Arthur?"

He shrugs.

"Some sour-faced idiot?" He attempts to lighten the mood. But your unimpressed glare made it clear he had failed at that.

"No", your gaze drifts back to the old wounds on his side.

"I see a strong man, who's carrying much more than he should."

Your eyes meet his.

"Your body, your scars, your hands, your wrinkles... every possible little thing you could hate about yourself I love with all my being."

You feel Arthur tense up, his body unvoluntarily shifting away from you. He wants to escape this conversation; your words would only mitigate him more on his stance about himself.

His mind screams hate, and your words whisper love. Much softer but all the more powerful.

You shake your head and hold his hand in yours.

"No, you're not escaping this Arthur. Because seeing you loathe yourself tears me apart."

His gaze leaves yours as the realization hit him: you're blaming yourself.

That would explain how sad you'd seem whenever he'd make a self-deprecating joke, or when he'd brush off your compliments about how his new haircut suited him well, or on how nice his new clothes fitted him.

Now all he feels is guilt gnawing at him, reaching for his throat, tightening the hold on it, almost choking him harder than any opponent he'd face ever would. His voice comes out hoarse.

"Sweetheart... y'know I don't mean to hurt you."

You nod and try your best to reign in the emotion that bubbled within you and threatened to spill. But it broke your voice too to hear him sound so pained. You could only manage a whisper as your eyes got glassy.

"I know, baby... I know. It's not your fault... Just wished you'd believe me, y'know? Like I believe you."

The hand of his you were holding starts stroking reassuring circles on the back of your hand. Was it to calm himself? To calm you? Both, probably.

He presses his lips in a thin line as he takes a deep breath, taking a few moments to collect himself.

"... If I had not found you, I know men out there who would fight themselves to death just to have ya. Can't say the same 'bout me. I was lucky enough to experience this at all-"

"Stop it, Arthur. You say that as if you were some... some monster!"

"Well aren't I? Look at me", He shows his bruises as he retorts, "I've killed countless people for God's sake. These ugly scars... they not proof enough for ya?"

You wipe away a tear that had fallen down your cheek without noticing.

"Those scars are a testament to your loyalty... Means you've endured so much yet survived it all."

A soft "tch" escapes him, but the argumentative heat he felt within him died down when he saw how truly affected you were.

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you back to lay against him. His hands, so calloused from his revolver, idly traced shapes on your back.

He felt a tug on his heartstrings when your glossy eyes looked up at him.

"Arthur Morgan, you are no monster and I am no deity of beauty. We're just... We're just us."

He snorts.

"That makes a whole lotta sense darlin'."

"Shut up, smartass", you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, battling the smile that so badly wants to form on your face. "You get what I mean."

"Uh-huh, sure do."

Your glare earns you a chuckle from him.

"Well you will, cause we have some work to do on ya mister. I ain't letting this slide."

You hold him tighter and press a gentle kiss on his cheek, his beard tickling you in the process. So you tickle his ear with a few whispers, each one punctuated with a kiss.

You're beautiful. So handsome. Could stare at you all my life. Can't believe how lucky I've got to be with you. I love you, Arthur.

You feel a new found heat radiating off him, his hands rubbing your sides.

Arthur knew it would take more than a few words and kisses to change his perception of himself. And you knew that too.

But seeing how worked up you've got over it made him realize that he was only hurting the two of you more than anything by being so sour.

It'll take work sure, but he's willing to be more accepting of your words, your unashamed gazes and appreciation. He's willing to open his stubborn mind just a teeny tiny bit.

He's willing to try. For him. But mostly, for you.

And that's all thanks to you.

thank you so much for reading!!! i'm working on a longer nsfw arthur oneshot which hopefully will be my next post, soooo until next time ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡

[n3wlove]

affection

synopsis — taking care of hungover nam-gyu (part 2 to this fic. i suggest you read it before this one so you better understand the plot)

note — i finally enjoy writing again! (this is only a phase, i should be more humble) i'm proud of myself for being able to make a part 2 so fast as the orginal fic took 1 and a half weeks to make. depression is a bitch. anyways, hope this is enjoyed! i could turn it into a series if anyone wants it. maybe. i do want to write something where namgyu and reader are in the games together. also, i'm sorry, this is way shorter and way worse than i wanted it to be, it's just i wanted to post a part 2 quickly. requests are open as always!!

tags — mentions of alcohol, sickness, hangover, fluff, he is very clingy when he is sick, established relationship..ish? y/n and him are very complicated < i know i should cleared that up in the last fic btw—forgive me—i might elaborate on it if theres another part to this :)

The morning poured from the window creating a beautiful glow over Nam-gyu's face. You were the first to wake up. Typical. You turned onto your side, giving you a better view of Nam-gyu beside you. His hair was all over his face, greasy and slick to his skin. Drool poured from his mouth. Yesterday was rough.

You would forget about it, like you usually did, but now, alone with your thoughts, you had time to reflect. Time to wonder what could’ve been different. You tried not to dwell on it because you didn’t want to be frustrated with him when he woke up.

With that, you got up from the bed, stretching your arms over your head and yawning. Behind you, you suddenly heard the sound of shifting sheets.

You glanced over your shoulder. Nam-gyu had started to stir, turning over. You tried to smile at him. But really, there wasn’t much on your face except exhaustion.

Eventually, he had finally awoken fully, though still tired. He squinted in your direction, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. The sunlight seeping in through the window hit him almost instantly, and he let out a low, tired whine.

He pulled the comforter over his head, shielding himself.

Already, your mind was wandering back to the night before. Where Nam-gyu stumbled in drunk. God, he’s hungover.

You sighed, walking toward him, bracing yourself for whatever you would be dealing with.

It wasn’t like this was new. You’d taken care of him while he was hungover more times than you should've. Even before you were 'dating', you were somehow the only one who was there to do it.

After parties, everyone else would disappear, too drunk and too uninterested.

But you always stayed. You didn’t want yourself to reminisce too hard on that though, so you pushed those thoughts to the side. There were better things to think about.

Now, you were already standing at his side of the bed, eyes settling on the way his body curled under the blankets, still half-asleep and visibly distressed.

He was a mess, and you knew you'd help him anyway.

Nam-gyu curled in on himself, noticing your presence. His arms wrapped tight around his stomach. Nausea.

“Hey 'Gyu, you doing okay?” you asked softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He would let out a small whimper in response, shifting just enough to look at you. And when his gaze met yours, he instantly noticed the way you were actually worried, really worried about him. His cheeks flushed a light pink, and he turned his head away, pressing his face into the pillow, pushing those thoughts aside.

“I'm fine Y/N, I—”

He would begin in an exhausted voice. He didn’t get to finish, his hand flew to his mouth, and he gagged.

Instantly, a wave of panic hit you. You watched, staying still for a few moments, before Nam-gyu threw the blankets off himself and bolted to the bathroom. You followed behind him, heart racing.

He fell to his knees in front of the toilet and started puking. You dropped down beside him, carefully sweeping some of his hair out of his face and holding the rest back. You looked away, giving him as much privacy as you could, even though it wasn't much.

When he was done, he sat beside you trembling, sweaty, pale, and barely holding himself up.

You stood up, grabbing a towel from the cabinet and running it under cold water. You knelt back beside him, pressing it to his forehead. You pulled him closer. You noticed how his skin was burning.

Nam-gyu let his head rest on your chest as he stared at the wall, still panting and regaining some composure. You let him, stroking his hair gently.

You finally decided to say something to break the silence.

"Nam-gyu, you should get some rest. C'mere, i'll lead you back to the bed."

He groaned in response, barely resisting as you helped him back to his feet. His movements were unsteady, but you managed to guide him toward the bed successfully.

Once there, he sank down and pulled the blankets up over his shoulders, shutting his eyes. You nodded quietly to yourself. He clearly needed the rest more than anything right now.

Right before you turned away to go walk off and make some breakfast, he grabbed you by your sleeve. You looked over at him, confused and a little scared.

"No, stay."

He murmured softly.

You furrowed your brows. He wanted you to stay? But why? You didn't question it too much. He wanted you with him, and if that is what would make him feel better, you would give it to him.

"Okay," you replied. "but first can I make you something? You haven't eaten at all and that might make you feel worse."

Nam-gyu sighed, finally letting his grip on your sleeve go.

"Mhm, sure... be quick."

You smiled, nodding your head. It was good enough of a "sure" for Nam-gyu.

You walked into the kitchen slowly, worry nagging at you. After a minute of standing there deciding what to make him, you decided on hibiscus tea and toast. Not the most practical for a hangover, but it always helped you, and you hoped it would do the same for Nam-gyu.

Seventeen minutes later, you were stepping back into the bedroom, hovering over Nam-gyu’s sick body. You sat everything down carefully on the nightstand beside him, a quiet and worried sigh escaping your lips.

His eyes went up to meet yours. He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared. And you looked back at him, neither of you breaking eye contact. There was something in his gaze that you couldn’t quite name, but it wasn’t mean. It seemed loving.

Eventually, he did look away, and thanked you in a small raspy voice.

"You're welcome 'Gyu."

He ended up demolishing the entire thing in 6 minutes max with a little tea left over. You drank the rest of it, Hibiscus being one of your favorite types.

"Are you going to rest the entire day?" You asked him, grabbing the plate and cup about to take it back to the kitchen.

"Well, I don't have any other things to do." He responded simply.

"Do you feel better?"

"Mmm... barely. I think I would be better if you laid with me for a little bit."

You giggled softly. He always knew how to make you feel like a teenage girl again, even while hungover, he knew the proper words to have you blushing, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Give me just a minute." You told him, turning around to head back to the kitchen.

As you walked in and placed the dirty dishes in the sink, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, You opened your messages, tapping on your closest friend, Ara's, contact.

You told her everything of course, every detail about you and Nam-gyu's relationship. That meant telling her even about his situation with the hangover.

you [10:32AM] : hes alive btw

ara [10:34am] : i dont get why you haven't just left him to take care of himself. grown man mind you

you [10:35am] : i wouldve, but someone has to take care of him

you [10:35am] : he threw up first thing this morning it seemed painful

ara [10:35am] : you're always the one taking care of him though, that must get annoying 😭

you [10:36am] : oh trust me it does

you [10:36am] : but i cant help myself from wanting to make sure hes well and safe

ara [10:37am] : you really do love him. so just get married already. save everyone who is waiting for it some time

you [10:37] : not in a million years

You slid your phone back into your pocket, shaking your head. Ara’s words echoed inside your head, and for a moment, you genuinely considered. Why hadn’t you just let him figure it out on his own like she said?

It's not like you were responsible for him. He was the one who came in last night hostile towards you for nothing, drunk out of his mind.

And yes, you were aware that you cared too much. And if someone gave you the option to change that, you wouldn't.

You knew someone had to save Nam-gyu from himself. That someone would be you.

You started to make your way back to the bedroom. When you got there, you quietly shut the door behind you being sure not to startle Nam-gyu. Seeing you walk in, he stretched his arms behind his head. His eyes trailed your body up and down, not judging, just watching.

“So are you gonna get in bed with me or what?” he asked you, cocking his head to the side. You just shrugged, walking over to the other side of the bed.

“You’re really needy,” you stated, slipping under the comforter and immediately curling up beside him.

“What’s wrong with needing my nurse, huh?” he said teasingly with his fingers drifting up to your hair, twirling a strand lazily between them. “I know you like taking care of me.”

You didn't respond to that, just leaned into his touch. There weren't any words that needed to be said, anyways.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around him. He pulled you closer, his head resting on top of yours. You listened to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, his breath going from even to uneven at times. This time, the silence wasn't haunting or intimidating, it was comforting.

"Thank you again, Y/n." Nam-gyu said suddenly, his voice quieter than how he usually spoke.

"You don't need to thank me. Like you said, I like doing this for you." You quickly responded.

He reacted to your words warmly, the grin he wore when he was satisfied appearing on his face.

"So how about we watch a movie then?" He asked, changing the topic. Before you even got the chance to respond he was already reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing the remote.

"Well, what do you want to watch? I mean, your taste in film kind of sucks." You told him, a smirk forming on the corner of your lips.

He scoffed. "Film? Are you a movie critic now?"

"Film is just the proper word for movies."

"Yeah, whatever. Since you know so much, pick." He retorted, throwing the remote into your hand. Your mind immediately went blank.

"Okay then,” you said confidently, even though deep down you knew that you were nervous. You decided to pick any movie that looked good from the cover and you ended up with The Lost Boys. It couldn't be that bad since you had always enjoyed stories about vampires.

He raised an eyebrow at the choice, already judging. “You're choosing that? That looks terrible."

“It'll be better than that zombie thing you made me sit through last time.”

"Why are you acting like Train to Busan didn’t destroy you? You were crying all over me by the time it was finished."

You knew he was right, so you just ignored him, hitting play.

The room got quiet after that. Nam-gyu was lying back, propping himself up on a pillow while you eased down beside him. You guys kept some space at first.

However, the more time that passed while the movie was playing the more tired you got. Despite it being morning, Nam-gyu had pulled the black out curtains over the window. It was a dark enough setting for you to sleep in.

At some point, your head gently fell against his shoulder.

He didn’t say anything. He just glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye. He shifted slightly, only to let you feel more comfortable while you slept against him.

You didn’t notice. You were already knocked out.

“You’re cute when you're annoying.” He whispered to himself, though, the message was for you.

Then he turned back to the screen. He wasn't focusing on the movie, because he was distracted by the weight of your head on his shoulder.

Eventually, the movie had ended. The screen was black and the room was completely quiet except for the faint hum of the TV and your occasional snore.

Nam-gyu didn't move. He wanted to, maybe shift a little, get up, get a drink, something. But he didn’t. He stayed right there, making sure you slept okay.

And then finally you had stirred.

You blinked a few times, disoriented, before lifting your head from his shoulder with a lazy groan.

“Shit,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “I fell asleep, didn't I?"

He looked over at you like you had just asked him what color the sky was. “You drooled on my hoodie."

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes, pretending you didn't do a thing. “No I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did. Look.”

He said once more, pointing a finger at the drool stain on the center of his hoodie. You shoved his arm, letting your head drop back against the pillow.

"You could’ve just pushed me off then."

He looked at you, hesitating, then looked away. “Didn’t really want to.”

You paused. You didn’t say anything back, and neither did he, not for a while at least. Then, quieter than before, he added, “It wasn’t that bad. You falling asleep on me.”

You looked over at him. Now, he wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were still on the blank TV screen like there was something there to watch.

“…Wasn’t that bad for me either,” you finally said. Nothing more was spoken about it after that.

"I think i'll go to sleep again now. Still don't feel that good." He announced, adjusting the comforter on him a bit more.

You simply nodded, decided that you would go back to bed as well.

Ara was right: you really do love him.

asked to be tagged : @ilovecheriies

[foonyeet]

Ok, I'm on everyone souls cuz..

You NEED to see THIS. And yeah, I know I'm just nobody to you but PLEASE.. you'll get what I meant once you see it, I promise you, you won't regret it 🙏

[waynes-multiverse]

Time After Time – Chapter 16

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, back in the present, SB being his charming self and every (bad) thing that comes with it, humor, pining, a bit of angst and hurt, enemies to lovers, slow burnin' through this one, fluff

Word Count: 8.1k

Posted on Patreon June 15, 2025

A/N: I'm a sucker for bottle episodes on TV and in stories. Give me two tortured characters sitting on the floor and having deep conversations, and I'll die happy.

✨ Chapter title inspired by me-e-ee

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 16: I Don't Care What the Papers Say!

Ben knocked once.

Hard enough to be heard, but not so loud it’d wake the whole damn block. Just loud enough to be undeniable. Just enough for you to know it was him.

No answer, but not surprising either.

He could hear you, of course. Super-hearing or not, Ben always knew the difference between silence and absence. You were in there, alright. Breathing slow. Still. Ignoring him like it was a full-time job. He didn’t even need to press his ear to the door. He could hear your heartbeat if he really focused. That steady, annoyed rhythm. Still close – but not coming any closer.

So he knocked again. Slower this time.

Still nothing.

He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and exhaled. “Alright, I know you in there.”

No response again. Ben could hear the music, though.

Not loud. Not enough to be obnoxious. Just enough to make the old brownstone buzz faintly through the concrete. A record. Vinyl – not fucking digital. He could tell by the soft static and occasional warble.

It was some grunge shit. Female vocals, probably late 90s. Not his thing, but it fit. A little sad. A little angry. Just like you.

“I can hear you breathing, sweetheart. Don’t play dumb.”

Fuckin’ nothing.

Ben dragged a hand down his face, then crossed his arms. “C’mon, you’re really gonna make me talk through the door like a fuckin’ sitcom neighbor? You know I hate that shit.”

Still no response. Not even a bratty fucking comment. That stung more than he wanted to admit.

His knuckles softly tapped the wood once more. “You know, if you open the door, you can punch me again or at least slam it in my face. Tell you what, sweetheart – I’ll let you kick me in the crown jewels once. How’s that, huh? Hell, might even like it if it’s you, so don’t be surprised if I moan instead of flinch.”

A beat passed, and then finally:

“You’re not coming in,” you said, voice dry as paper.

“Figured,” he muttered and dropped down on the steps just outside your door. His back leaned against the frame and brick wall, one knee up, the other stretched across the concrete like he had all goddamn night. “Place still smells like cheap paint and lavender. But hey, at least it got character… and possibly black mold. Had to pick the shittiest apartment in New York, didn’t you?”

You still didn’t say anything, but he heard the quiet creak of the floorboards inside and your breathing just behind the door, measured and intentional – you were listening.

And sure, on some level, he knew this was fucking stupid. You didn’t want to see him. You made that clear when you told him to fuck off several times by now. But he couldn’t not be here – not after today.

Not after everything.

“Y’know, I liked it better when you yelled at me and threw me ‘round through time,” he said and let his head rest against the wood, shutting his eyes for a second. “Now I knock and don’t even get a ‘go to hell.’ Kinda hurtin’ my feelings, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have feelings,” you bit.

Ben smirked. There you were.

“I’m not here to fight, alright? Just figured if you hate me, I should at least fuckin’ show up for it,” he said and rubbed a thumb over a splinter in the wood.

“You gonna sit there forever?” you snapped. “Go away and leave me alone.”

“Not yet.”

“You’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t think so,” Ben replied, a smile curling on his lips. “You haven’t vanished yet, which means you don’t fuckin’ hate me as much as you think you do.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Me staying has nothing to do with you,” you argued. “This is my home. I like it here. I have friends here. If anyone should fucking leave, it’s you.”

“You can’t even remember most of this shit, including that little whine club of yours.”

You scoffed, and Ben suddenly remembered he wasn’t supposed to make you angrier. You were just making it so goddamn hard on him to hold back. And maybe that was your point all along.

“Hey, I can remember most of them again. It’s coming back. I know Annie and Frenchie and Hughie and Butcher–”

“Butcher ain’t your fuckin’ friend,” he cut in sharply.

“Why? ‘Cause he blackmailed me?” you asked. “I told you it wasn’t that fucking serious – and yeah, I remember that, too.”

“I don’t know. Sounds like a good enough reason to me,” he muttered.

“Everything’s a good fucking reason to you.”

And maybe you were right about that one. Because it surely wasn’t the only reason he wanted Butcher dead. The asshole had not only crossed a line by threatening you but also by threatening him with turning you against him.

Mostly, though, he hated to admit that it also may have been a reason he came to see you tonight. Why he couldn’t give you time and leave you fucking alone.

He had to talk to you before they fucking got to you and spewed all their poison about him.

Ben exhaled slowly. “Look, I know you’re mad at me. I get it. If I were you, I woulda done the same fuckin’ thing.”

You snorted a dark chuckle. “If you were me, New York would be leveled and burning right now.”

“Probably.” Ben pursed his lips, head bobbing. “Listen, I know this is about what happened last week–”

“Don’t.” Your voice cut him like a knife – cold, sharp, and warning.

Ben swallowed heavily. “I don’t wanna rehash it, alright? I just figured you need to–… I had to, okay? I had no choice. I had to push harder. You weren’t breaking, and I was runnin’ outta tricks. Outta time.”

“That it?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” he assured, even though your question sounded like a trap. He just didn’t know what would activate it yet. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Bullshit,” you snapped. “You did mean to. You meant everything. You don’t get to have a say in my life for over a year, treat me like a shit, corner me in my own fucking apartment, and then beg for forgiveness on my doorstep like it’s some goddamn romantic gesture.”

“Didn’t say it was,” Ben muttered, rubbing his palms on his thighs.

Well, shit. There went his plan.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, alright? You think that was fuckin’ fun for me?”

“Kinda, yeah,” you huffed bitterly.

Ben swallowed, nodding. “You really think I wanted this? Any of it? You know that I–…” He didn’t finish, just bit his lips, but you said it for him anyway.

“You were just like him.”

Ben licked his lips, then smacked them. “I know.”

“You’re supposed to protect me,” you added quietly.

“I know that, too,” he admitted and tilted his head back against the brick wall, staring up at stars through the city haze. “Still remember your face that night. It’s been livin’ rent-free in my goddamn skull ever since. You were scared… of me. I did that. On purpose, sure, but doesn’t mean I don’t hate myself for it.” He rubbed his jaw. The heat of shame burned at the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t have–… I wouldn’t have hurt you. You know that.”

“No, I don’t know that, because I don’t know you,” you argued. “I don’t even know if you’re telling the truth or lying through your fucking teeth right now because you’re still playing some sick game.”

Ben closed his eyes for another moment, exhaling a breath through his nose. “I’m not playin’ a game.”

“I. Don’t. Believe. You,” you said and slowly pressed each word out with purpose.

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. “What d’you want me to say, huh? Just tell me what it fuckin’ takes. Fine, alright? Maybe it was more than a little pretense that night. Maybe I was a jealous asshole and a little rougher than I intended. There, I said it. Fuckin’ happy now?”

“None of this makes me fucking happy!”

“Makes fuckin’ two of us,” Ben scoffed under his breath and rolled his eyes slightly. He waited till the sting in his chest subsided before continuing, “But you still gotta believe me – I wouldn’t’ve hurt you.”

Silence. Fucking crickets. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.

He banged his forehead softly against the door. “Please open it.”

“No.”

Sure, he could’ve kicked it in a while ago, but he figured he’d probably be making the wrong point. Aside from that, you sure as hell would either freeze him, toss him into some historical catastrophe, or disappear from the face of the Earth.

“You think I’ve been stuck on what you did this past year, but it’s not just that,” you continued. “I’ve been trying to figure out how much of what you became over the last eighty years is real… and how much is just for show.”

Ben huffed a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, not sure ‘bout that one, either,” he muttered quietly. “If you find out, lemme know.”

You didn’t say anything, but the record kept playing. The needle scratched faintly as the song faded to its last few bars. Then, he heard you lifting and flipping it.

Side B – fitting.

Your weight inside moved again, heartbeat getting closer. There was a creak of old wood and the rustling of fabric as you seemed to be sitting down on the floor just on the other side of him. If the door disappeared, he could imagine your knees touching. There were no attempts at footsteps or even the door chain shifting, but at least you hadn’t vanished yet.

You were still here – listening.

Ben’s eyes then drifted to the box next to him, resting a hand on the taped-up lid. “I brought your stuff, by the way. Kept it all. Your shoes, that busted old notebook full of chicken scratch equations, the movie projector you made me, even that shirt that didn’t make sense to me till ’69,” he listed, chuckling softly. “I saw you there. At that concert, y’know?”

“You did?”

“Yep. You were gettin’ high with some college kids. Even followed you,” he added.

“Oh, yeah, those kids were so nice. I think they were a throuple. Not sure, but definitely polyamorous,” you mused behind the door. “I left when the topic of an orgy came up. But they gave me LSD. Was my first time doing it.”

Ben’s mouth opened and closed. “Explains a few things,” he murmured lowly, his eyes swerving back to the box. “You know, I thought about burnin’ all this shit several times over the years.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Because you left. Because he didn’t know if he’d see you again. Because it still smelled like you.

He let out a quiet chuckle. “Don’t know. Just couldn’t do it.”

There was silence again on your side, even the song ended. But another started – same tone with a different flavor of ache.

“You can leave it outside,” you said.

“I’d rather hand it to you, if that’s alright.”

“It’s not.”

“Right.” Ben let out a deep sigh. “Got you something else, too. But it’s a surprise. Gotta open the door first, though. Only got about one more hour left, too.”

“Great, so it comes with a countdown,” you huffed, and Ben imagined you even rolled your eyes with it. “Please tell me it’s not you exploding.”

He snorted, amused. “Nah, not the kinda explosion I’ve planned for you, sweetheart.”

“Ew! Why?”

“C’mon, it was right there. Can’t serve me like that,” he replied, chuckling.

“You’re not making a good case for yourself,” you murmured.

“You used to love it when I made those fuckin’ jokes,” Ben noted, laughing a little as a memory popped into his head. “Once made you laugh so hard you snorted your soda through your fuckin’ nose.”

“That was different.”

“How so?”

“It just was.”

You had always been a fucking challenge. Didn’t matter what he’d tried – making you his lover or his enemy.

“I liked who you were then,” you added after a beat.

Ben was quiet, and for a while, the city filled the space between you – the hum of traffic two streets over, someone slamming a cab door, a dog barking faintly from a second-story window.

“Look, uhm, I don’t know how much of that guy’s still in here, but I think some of him is,” Ben said finally. “Specially ‘round you.”

“Coulda fooled me,” you scoffed sharply. “You don’t get to act like you care now.”

That one hit harder than he expected, but he didn’t defend himself either. What was the fucking point? No matter what he said, you didn’t believe him. You never would again, would you?

“I’ll go, okay?” Ben said then and heard your weight shift behind the door. “I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. I just need to ask you somethin’ first.”

A beat passed before you responded.

“What?”

Ben took a breath and swallowed. “Back at the office, you said you trained, so how long–, uhm, how long have your powers been back? I mean, did you leave on purpose… that night?”

There was nothing but silence – heavy, cruel, and suffocating – till the lock clicked. The door cracked open a moment later.

And there you fucking were again.

His heart stopped when he saw you. Still on the floor, back leaning against the wall next to the door, drowning in a Blondie tee, damp hair from a shower, bare legs stretched out over the old wooden boards. You looked better than you did in the afternoon. Tired as fuck, but better.

“Hey,” he said softly, like you were a deer in a sunny clearing he didn’t want to scare back into the dark woods.

“Hey,” you parroted with the same softness in your voice.

Ben could see it then – you didn’t hate him anymore. Not like you had. You were pissed and mad and five different flavors of disappointed, but you didn’t want to drown him in a volcano any longer.

You swallowed and averted your gaze to your fumbling fingers in your lap. “I was stuck. Nothing was working, no matter what I tried. But, uhm, I got the freezing thing working again after a few weeks,” you explained slowly. “I didn’t leave on purpose, though. I told you.”

“You told me a lotta things.” He smiled weakly. “Most of ‘em lies.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” you said quietly and kept your eyes focused on the floor in front of you. “Kinda the reason I got scared and panicked. I didn’t know how to tell you. Didn’t know what the future would look like. Not until I figured out it was a loop.”

He leaned his head back against the door. “You always had secrets. I knew that much. You’d look at me sometimes like you knew how everything ended.”

“I guess I did,” you admitted. “On some level.”

Ben swallowed thickly, nodding. “So what was the plan? You were never gonna say anything?”

“No, I would have. I think… I wanted to,” you replied. “Just didn’t know when… or how. I was scared you were gonna–…”

You didn’t finish.

“What? Kill you?”

You shook your head and met his eyes. “No, leave.”

“I wouldn’t have.” A sad smile twitched on his lips. “So you really didn’t wanna leave?”

“No.”

The word was barely audible over the music, but he still would’ve heard it even if someone was standing next to his ear with a jackhammer.

A humorless chuckle escaped him. “You know, I always figured I drove you off that night. Wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“No, you weren’t. You never were,” you said, but it wasn’t mean. There was a faint smile on your face.

“Never did get an answer, though,” he noted, swallowing. “Still waiting, y’know. Still wonderin’.”

You looked at him then for a long moment. “Not sure you deserve an answer now.”

“Me neither.” He smiled a little. “Give it to me anyway?”

But you shook your head and averted your gaze again. “I didn’t mean to fall for you, you know? Didn’t mean to hurt you, either.”

He huffed a small laugh. “Funny how that works, huh?”

“I would’ve said yes. I wanted to,” you said then, taking him by surprise. He hadn’t expected an answer. Not when he asked it now and not when he’d asked it back then.

For a while, he didn’t know what else to say. Didn’t know what to ask that would magically make this all better and fix it. What words were significant enough to bandage a wound this big?

Ben exhaled slowly. “Why haven’t you gone back yet?”

You blinked at him, brow close to reaching your hairline.

“You could, right? You have your powers again. You could go back right to that moment before it all went to shit,” he clarified.

You were quiet for a beat. “I could. Thought about it.”

Ben’s head bobbed thoughtfully. “But you haven’t, right? Otherwise we still wouldn’t be sittin’ here.”

“No, guess not…”

“Why?”

You found his eyes, and he could see the tears gleaming in yours. Then you gave a weak shrug of your shoulders. “‘Cause it wasn’t real.”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t fuckin’ say that. It was. It was real.”

“It was a lie. A fantasy,” you argued softly. It wasn’t cruel – just honest. “I’m not saying my feelings weren’t real. They were. But everything else? It would’ve collapsed. It was inevitable… like entropy. We were drifting from order to chaos. From warmth to cold.”

“You don’t know that,” Ben countered.

“Maybe not,” you admitted and looked at him again. “But it’s not just up to me. Not anymore.”

His brow furrowed. “What d’you mean?”

“It’s your life. You should make the decision,” you told him.

Ben sat with that for a while, let the words sink in, even though he barely understood them.

“You should go.”

“What?” Your brow raised like you hadn’t anticipated that answer.

“You love m–… him, right? So you should be with him,” Ben said, although the answer almost broke him.

You didn’t love him. Probably never would. At least not this version of him, so what was the point of holding on? He could get a redo. Maybe even the life he always wanted.

“It’s not that simple,” you said. “The whole world would change. You would change.”

He snorted bitterly. “Might be for the best,” he muttered. “You’d make sure I wouldn’t cross a line or lose myself along the way like I did without you there.”

“I don’t think you understand the implications of it,” you noted. “You don’t know what happens to you – this you.”

He gave a shrug. “I stop existing, right? Just fade away like Marty’s hand.”

You smiled, but it was a sad one. “Maybe. If I go back and stay, the future might rewrite itself, including you. So, yeah, this you would stop existing and get replaced by a new version of you. But there’s another option,” you explained. “If I go back, it could just start a new timeline. An alternate one. Which means this one would still exist. I’d just be gone from it.”

Ben’s lips twitched, head bobbing. “So either I stop existing, or I’d be here alone forever. That what you’re saying?”

You nodded slowly.

He didn’t love that answer. You happy with some other version of him, while he was stuck in eternal misery, forever missing you. He wasn’t sure if he could do that – give up on you like that. And maybe that was fucking selfish of him. He knew it was.

“You’d save a lot of people. Probably,” you added like you were making a pro and con list. “I ran different scenarios, you know? Like simulations in my head of what could happen. Tried to find the right path that would yield the most benefit.”

Ben cocked an eyebrow. “That what you were doing in the shed?”

“Mostly.” You gave a half-sure nod. “I tried to find out how it works. What theory was true.”

“And?”

You twitched your shoulders. “Inconclusive. Never could figure it out.”

He huffed quietly, shaking his head. “All these theories and you never thought it was a loop?”

A small smile flashed on your lips. “No, I did. It crossed my mind,” you admitted and swallowed. “Was just the one I liked the least. Because it not only meant that I couldn’t change anything but that I was also the cause for everything.”

“And me,” Ben added and met your confused stare. “I sent you back. So I caused it too, right?”

You exhaled musingly. “I guess so. Maybe.”

Ben’s brows drew together. “So who started it? You or me?”

You shrugged again. “I don’t know. My guess is as good as yours.”

“Yeah, but there’s gotta be like… a starting point, right? A first one?” he asked and saw you hold back an amused laugh. “What?”

“It’s a circle,” you said like it would explain everything.

It fucking didn’t.

“Does a circle have a beginning or an end?” you asked in that certain tone of yours he knew all too well – the teacher voice. “The answer you’re looking for is no, by the way.”

“Smartass,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “They didn’t teach all that futuristic shit yet in my school.”

“What, geometry?” You snorted in amused disbelief. “I’m pretty sure they did. You just weren’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He rolled his eyes back. “But there’s gotta be an original version that looked different than all the others, right? Or a version of me that never knew you at all.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Jesus, how much have you been thinking about this?”

“A lot. Yeah,” he admitted and cleared his throat. Smiled even. “So? What’s the working theory, Doc?”

“I don’t know. Probably?”

Ben’s brow wrinkled. “You ever gonna give me an answer tonight that doesn’t sound like it’s comin’ straight outta a Magic 8 Ball?”

You snorted, that little mischievous smirk curling on your lips. “Ask again later.”

“Funny.” He snorted a laugh, but he tried not to be too loud or move too much.

He’d noticed it a while ago – how the tension faded from your muscles, how the smiles kept creeping in. It was like you weren’t even aware you were still supposed to be angry and hurt. You were just doing it subconsciously – talking to him, laughing with him, falling into a pattern with him you’d grown accustomed to over the last few months.

Ben knew better than to point that out and burst it, however. He just enjoyed the bubble. Didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want you to wake up from your trance. Scared you’d realize then that he wasn’t the same guy anymore.

So he said nothing and kept the conversation flowing, hoping you wouldn’t catch on for the rest of both your lives. A man could fucking hope, right?

“Hmm,” he hummed and feigned contemplation. Then he smirked. “So, technically, that means the original timeline could be me being on your little history backstage pass, and you payin’ me a visit, right?”

You snorted. “Unlikely. You were never on that list.”

“Oh, but fuckin’ JFK is on it?”

You laughed loudly at that. “Are you still seriously hung up on that guy? He’s been dead for decades. Most likely because of you.”

“Hey, I had nothin’ to do with that.”

“Legend said you did,” you countered.

“That old prick with that coked-up brain doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talkin’ about,” Ben muttered. “That shit about Normandy wasn’t true either, was it? I mean, you saw, right?”

“Oh, I remember when you made me prove Hughie and I were wrong. Watched you throw a whole-ass tank at like forty Nazis,” you replied wryly.

“Yeah, you’re fuckin’ welcome,” he huffed and only snapped out of his internal rant when he heard your soft giggles.

“How do you even know about my list? I know I never told you about that,” you said then, your brow scrunching into little creases.

“Oh, you sure as hell didn’t, sweetheart.” Ben smirked wide and lazy. “But your so-called friends were real fuckin’ chatty today.”

“Great,” you sighed, then found his eyes. “So what now? Do you want me to go back?”

Ben pursed his lips for a moment. “Can I think about it?” he asked quietly, foot tapping against the concrete below it.

You gave a shrug of your shoulders. “Sure. Time’s not really relevant. Not for us, anyway. Could tell me tomorrow or a hundred years from now. Literally doesn’t matter.”

Ben didn’t respond right away. Just looked at you. “Do you wanna go back?”

He for sure thought you wanted to. He thought there could only ever be one answer, almost rendering the question redundant in the first place. You loved the past version of him. That guy could still give you a future and a life you were worthy of. Why wouldn’t you want that?

But your answer took him by surprise.

“No,” you said and didn’t break his gaze. “I don’t.”

Ben’s brow knitted. “Why?”

“I don’t think there’s a version of us that gets to live the perfect dream life. Where we get everything we ever wanted,” you said. “It’s not how life works. Was just a glitch in the matrix. It was nice while it lasted, though.”

Ben licked his lips, not knowing what he could say to convince you otherwise. “I don’t think that’s true. I think we would’ve been happy,” he said. “I woulda made sure you were.”

You turned your head to look at him. “I was, and you did.”

Ben nodded and bit the insides of his cheeks. “So if you don’t wanna go back, why you offerin’?”

“I ruined your life. Only fair you at least get a say in how I do it this time,” you replied, shrugging.

Ben then met your eyes. “You didn’t ruin shit.”

You lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. “Really? Not even a little?”

He huffed a snort. “Maybe a little,” he teased, smirking. “But kinda ruined me in the best way, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything to that, just leaned your head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling fan for a while.

“You know,” you said then, “if I do go back, Russia never happens. You wouldn’t have to go through that.”

Ben’s lips twitched, almost in amusement. Oh, he thought about it, alright. Surely was fuckin’ tempting.

“Yeah? You sure you wouldn’t sell me out to the fuckin’ Commies next time you get pissed at me again?” he blurted out before stopping himself.

You inhaled sharply. “No,” you assured. “And I’m sorry, okay? That was–…”

“A dick move?” Ben supplied with a cocked brow.

You smiled. “Yeah, big time.”

“‘S fine. Deserved it,” he muttered under his breath.

“No, you didn’t,” you insisted with that same fucking softness in your eyes he’d always seen in you. “Which is why I’m sorry.”

There was silence between you again, but it wasn’t heavy and loaded anymore. It was comfortable. Calm. Familiar.

“So what now?” Ben asked then. “What happens if you stay here?”

“What do you mean?” Your brows scrunched again, and he didn’t like that tone in your voice – that finality in it.

“You still love me, or is this the courtesy break-up talk you’re granting me?”

You looked at him but didn’t respond. Just dropped your head back against the wall after a moment and closed your eyes.

“My parents aren’t dead,” your voice broke the silence and made his brows raise.

“I know time doesn’t fuckin’ matter to you, and you can see dead people or whatever, but death still fuckin’ exists.”

“No, I know that,” you said. “They’re not dead. They’re in Alaska.”

His brow shot up. “Alaska? But–”

“I did bring them to 1349, and I did leave them there,” you stated and bit your lip. “For about three years. Then I went back. For them, only five minutes had passed. Still scared the shit out of them.”

“So what? They fled to fuckin’ Alaska?”

“No, I dropped them there and told them not to come back, or I’d leave ‘em in the Middle Ages for good next time,” you shared, pulling your legs up and leaning forward on your knees.

“Recognizin’ a pattern here…”

You huffed a chuckle. “I guess so. But that’s not why I’m telling you this.”

“Why are you telling me?”

You swallowed. “They weren’t all bad, you know? I kept thinking about that. I mean, sure, they were addicts, and they didn’t really want me, but they had these phases… Every once in a while, they tried to get clean, and everything was just suddenly fine.“

Ben could see the tears collecting in your eyes and the lump forming in your throat.

“We’d go on these family trips,” you continued, laughing softly. “Once saw Salem Sue. You know that huge cow in North Dakota? And they’d also pick me up from school and take me for ice cream or pizza or to the mall. Stuff like that. They tried, you know? For a while, they did at least.”

Ben’s heart flared up at the sad smile twitching on your lips, however. His gut churned, like it already knew where the story was headed and what morals would be drawn from it.

“That was the thing, though. It never lasted,” you said. “Sometimes it was a week. Sometimes even a few months. At first, I got really exited. Happy ‘cause I finally had parents who gave a shit, you know? And I figured maybe we could be normal now. But it was always a phase. It wasn’t forever. Eventually, they’d go right back to being the shit parents they were, and I stopped expecting them to change. Stopped being hopeful and excited whenever they had good days because I knew it wouldn’t stay.”

“This isn’t a phase,” he said softly. Kept his eyes on you like it might convince you. “It’s not going anywhere. It’ll stick. I’ll stick.”

“Sure.” You nodded slowly and pressed your lips into a tight line, then gave a weak smile. “Think I haven’t heard it all before? I know all the words in the Book of Addict.”

That cut deep. Trust never came easy to you, and he’d already managed to break it several times.

“I’m not–” Ben didn’t finish. Just looked at you and swallowed around the thick lump in his throat while every cell in his body vibrated. He clenched his fists to stop the tremble in his hands – the constant buzz.

“You’re not, what?”

Ben ground his jaw. “I’ve been clean. I haven’t touched this shit in months.”

“You just made me buy pills and coke two weeks ago,” you said. “Called me at 3AM. Remember?”

“I didn’t take it,” he insisted. “I fuckin’ flushed it, alright? Gave it out as party favors. Just called you to keep you busy. Nothin’ more to it.”

And it was fucking true. Sometime shortly after Vought tower and Homelander, he’d stopped. He hadn’t used for forty years anyway, and he didn’t need the hallucinations of you anymore either because the real you had been right fucking there.

You leaned back against the wall with a sigh – unbothered and unaffected. “If you’re waiting for applause, you’re wasting your time. I’ve learned not to clap till the show’s over.”

He scoffed quietly, nodding. It was no fucking use, was it? Were you ever gonna believe him again?

“Don’t trust me? That’s fine,” he said, jaw aching from how hard he’d been grinding it. “I know you’re fuckin’ disappointed in me. Hell, I am too. But I’ll fuckin’ show you.”

“Guess we’ll see,” you replied, barely audible.

“Didn’t have collateral this entire year, either,” he added like that piece of information would finally convince you. “Not a single asshole died that didn’t deserve it.”

You snorted a laugh. “You’re not serious right now, are you? You woke up in this century with a fucking kill list and unchecked PTSD. You killed like fifty people in the first week.”

“After,” he countered. “After the tower. After you woke up from your fuckin’ coma, I stopped, alright?”

“Yeah, ‘cause everyone on your list was already dead,” you argued.

“Trust me. There’s more,” he rasped.

Stan Edgar. Butcher. Your parents. They were on his fucking hit list now, too. But he knew better than to say it out loud.

“Right.” You clicked your tongue.

“I didn’t explode today if you haven’t fuckin’ noticed. I’ve got it under control,” he argued further. “Even goddamn apologized to MM a year ago. Did he tell you?”

“He did.” You gave a small nod. “Did you actually fucking mean it, though?”

“I did,” he gritted through his teeth. “What d’you wanna hear, hm? I did horrible shit, alright. None of it I can fuckin’ take back. And I fuckin’ paid for all of it. Deserved it, too. But I swear to God I won’t let you fuckin’ down again. I won’t.”

You stayed quiet for a heartbeat, licking your lips, head bobbing. Then you met his eyes. “I think you should go,” you said so fucking soft and gentle like those words didn’t rip his heart straight out of his chest.

“Sweetheart, please.” He hated begging, but for you, he’d be devoutly on his knees for the rest of his goddamn life.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the door, ready to close it, but he stopped it, pushing his hand against the wood to keep it open. His mind, his gut, and his heart screamed at him that it’d never open again once it shut. He couldn’t let that fucking happen.

“Ben…”

You didn’t say his name in anger or annoyance. Your voice was just heavy with a tiredness that seemed to have seeped into your bones.

“Just a little longer? Please?” He stared at you till he saw the tiniest nod and you dropped your hand from the door with a sigh.

“Guess I’m Jeannie today. Just granting wishes left and right,” you muttered.

Ben lifted a brow. “Like I Dream of Jeannie Barbara Eden?” He grinned then. “Man, I loved that show.”

He didn’t mention he fucked Barbara Eden once at the Chateau. Thought it was best to keep that to himself.

“Well, don’t expect me to call you ‘master,’ Captain,” you huffed wryly.

“‘S fine. Eden didn’t do that either,” he muttered under his breath.

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he said quickly, clearing his throat.

You motioned with your chin to the box next to him. “That my stuff?”

Ben followed your gaze, gave half a shrug. “Uh, well, not just your shit. Just stuff from our time together in general. You ain’t gettin’ that projector back.”

You snorted in amusement, then crossed your arms and smirked challengingly. “What kinda stuff did you keep in there?”

He pursed his lips. “Uh, you know, just memorabilia.”

“Like what?”

He scowled, seeing you barely hide the grin at this point.

“If you tell me you kept old movie tickets from our date nights in there, I’m gonna call you a sentimental sap,” you teased.

The frown deepened. “Maybe I just hand ‘em to you separately.”

You stretched your neck slightly to look behind his torso. “What’s in the little box on top?”

“Ah.” A slow smirk curled on his lips. “That’s your little surprise.”

You arched an eyebrow. “You really think bribery’s gonna work?”

Ben took the small, pink box and held it out to you. “Just open it.”

You kept your little glare on him as you took the box before carefully opening the lid and peeking inside it as if he’d hidden poisonous snakes in there. Then your brow furrowed, head tilting in question.

“Cake?”

“Still your birthday for–,” he checked his watch, “–another twelve minutes.”

A frown.

“What d’you think you’re doing? This isn’t Sixteen Candles.”

“Didn’t say it was. Just wanted you to have cake on your birthday,” he said and twitched his shoulders almost innocently.

You inhaled sharply. Bit the inside of your cheeks.

Ha. That one got you.

“If you let me in, I can you show you what’s in that box while you eat cake,” Ben added.

“Let me in, children. Your mother has something for each and every one of you,” you said, your voice high and sweet and filled with bubbles of laughter.

Ben’s brow knitted. “Is that from a Grimm fairy tale?”

“Yup.”

“Huh,” he hummed. “My mother read those to me.”

“I know.”

“Right.” He clicked his tongue. “Forgot I told you that.”

“Yup,” you said again and popped the p. Your gaze, however, wasn’t on him but focused on the tips of your toes. “Moral of the story, though, I let you in, and you’ll eat me.”

Ben bit his lips hard, holding the fucking smirk back. Oh, he’d eat you, alright.

“Don’t,” you warned – cute little glare and all. “The way this has been going so far, I know once you’re inside, you’re never gonna leave, and then I have to leave, and I don’t wanna leave my apartment, so you’re staying out.”

Ben nodded, then smacked his lips. “Convincing.”

You exhaled a long sigh, he blinked, and then suddenly, you were skimming through pages of your notebook in concentration, still in the same spot you used to be like nothing had changed, the box next to him gone and now next to you.

Well, shit. He’d overplayed his fucking hand.

“What’s in there anyway?” he asked. “Never could fuckin’ read it.”

“That’s the point,” you replied without glancing up.

“Looks like fuckin’ hieroglyphs,” he muttered with a scoff.

“It’s a secret language I invented when I was six,” you shared. “I started keeping travel journals after the first few jumps, so I could keep track of everything. The different writing system functions as a fail-safe in case someone steals it or I accidentally leave it somewhere.”

“Huh. And what’s this one say?”

“Uh, it’s some equations, journal entries, memories from the future I wrote down before forgetting, which is why I need this now,” you said, turning pages like you were searching for something specific.

“Anything ‘bout me in there?”

“Everything’s about you in there.”

You still didn’t look up when you said it. Didn’t sound sentimental or even gentle. Just presented it as a fact.

He gestured toward the currently opened page in your lap. “What does this one say?”

“Oh, uhm…” You hesitated, brow knitting like you weren’t sure you cared to share it. “It’s from that day at the lake in May. The one where I pushed you off the dock.”

Ben laughed softly. “Remember that one. Wanna read it to me?”

You looked at him, then let out a breath. Slammed the notebook shut. “No, look, I’m tired. I’ve been awake for over thirty hours and this birthday has lasted close to six months. I’m basically jet-lagged. Can you just get to the point? Why are you here?”

Ben licked his lips and leaned back against the wall. His eyes found yours. “You already know why I’m here. Can’t tell me that you don’t. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

“I already told you what I want, and you’re not listening again,” you said, voice sharp as a whip. “Leave me alone. You hovering doesn’t help. I swear to God you’re the worst ex-boyfriend ever. I want time. That’s what I fucking want.”

Ben’s mouth opened and closed, green eyes flickering. The fucking thought alone was making his chest hum alive.

“I don’t want you to disappear again,” he admitted and swallowed around the lump in his throat.

You exhaled a deeply frustrated breath. “I’m not, alright? But only if you go now.”

He looked up the stairs leading to the street and away from you. “For how long? When can I come back?”

“Ben,” you sighed his name and rolled your eyes.

He nodded. Relented.

“Alright, fine.”

He rose from the uncomfortable concrete three minutes past midnight and glanced down at you one final time. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

You got back onto your feet as well, gave a nod, and the door closed.

Sleep was impossible.

No doubt, you were fucking exhausted. Tired in your bones, your blood, your heart, your goddamn soul.

But still – no fucking sleep.

As soon as you closed your eyes, your mind was racing. It wouldn’t shut off. And your heart? That was racing, too. Either from fear, yearning, or fucking both, you weren’t sure.

Ben was gone. Yet, he was still fucking everywhere.

You tossed. You turned. You sighed your frustrations at the ceiling and groaned into pillows. Counted sheep and listed the first one hundred decimals of pi. Still nothing.

It was too quiet or too loud. Too dark or too light. It wasn’t fucking home.

You hadn’t slept in this bed in months. Not really. And now, wrapped in its sterile warmth, blanket pulled up to your shoulder like armor, curled into a ball on the mattress like an Armadillo, you felt even farther from yourself.

Home felt like somewhere else now – in the bed you used to sleep and the guy you used to share it with.

Because not only were you struggling with your feelings, temporal jet-lag, and timelines – you also fucking missed him.

This wasn’t your bed. The spot next to you was empty. And nothing fucking smelled like him anymore.

No arms around you. No steady breathing next to you. Just emptiness – like entropy knocked on your fucking door tonight and invited itself in to stay.

Your muscles remembered another rhythm. Another routine. Another weight.

For five months, there’d been someone next to you. Someone you loved so much it fucking hurt. Now they were gone.

The worst, though? You thought you’d never get him back. Thought there was nothing left to rebuild. But after tonight, you weren’t quite so sure anymore. Tonight felt easy. Comfortable. Familiar.

It felt as if he was still there. Still him. Scraps of him buried under inches of shit, sure, but still.

You saw the flickers of light through the thicket. Saw not the supe, but Ben.

Twenty-three. Dumb as hell. Soft in the rarest places. Calloused hands that knew how to touch without hurting. A man who tucked you into his side like you were something worth keeping warm. A man who laughed in his sleep and sometimes pulled you closer without waking.

That was the rhythm you knew now. And without it, your own heartbeat felt wrong.

You shifted onto your back. Then your other side. Kicked the blanket off. Pulled it back on. Flipped the pillow. Nothing fucking helped.

He said he loved you. Then he said you were a liar.

He kept your things for eight decades. Then he pushed you away for a whole year.

And despite all the nightmares and the differences and all the cruel things he’d ever done or said, you still fucking loved him. God, that was the worst part.

You loved him. And Ben? He broke you open anyway.

Then it fucking hit – the first sob that clawed through your body like it had built since January of ’42.

The kind that crawled up your throat without warning. Ugly. Choking. Whole body shaking.

You curled into yourself, and it kept coming. Louder now. Guttural. The kind of crying that wracked your chest and made your teeth ache.

Everything fucking spilled out – the grief, the time, the loneliness, the betrayal.

You weren’t just mourning what he did.

You were mourning everything you thought you’d found in 1942 – all the people, the places, the versions of you that felt brighter and stronger and freer. You were mourning a life you couldn’t go back to. A home you’d built with hope and love, only to have it dissolve in a single blink of an eye.

You sobbed until you hiccupped.

Until the pillow was soaked beneath your cheek.

Until the silence swallowed you up again.

Until the knock came.

It wasn’t loud. Not like before. Three slow taps, almost reluctant – like he was giving you time to pretend you didn’t hear them.

Your breath hitched again. Your eyes, already raw, squeezed shut tighter. Like that might somehow undo the sound and make him disappear again.

Then came his voice – low and unsure in the night. “Can I come in?”

You stayed silent.

“Didn’t go far,” he admitted. “I heard you. Just wanted to check on you. Didn’t think you wanted me here. Still don’t, probably. But I’m askin’ anyway.”

You wanted to say something – to yell, to scream, to beg him to go or stay or hold you tighter – but your mouth wouldn’t work, and your chest was a collapsed building like a nuclear bomb had torn through it.

The words formed on your tongue, but your lips didn’t move.

“I’m gonna open the door now,” he gave you a warning shot. “If you don’t want me to, say somethin’. Don’t fuckin’ disappear on me, alright?”

You didn’t, and the door creaked open.

He stepped in slowly, boot steps soft for once. The smell of city air followed him in – summer heat and burning asphalt and different flavors of cuisine.

The couch beneath you dipped. The mattress creaked beneath his weight with carefulness. He didn’t reach for you right away. He sat still for a moment – like he was giving you one final out.

He always did.

And when there was no resistance, the warmth of his arm ghosted around your waist. Slow. Hesitant. Tentative. Like he expected you to pull away. Like he was afraid touching you might set the whole world off again.

You still didn’t stop him. You never did.

His chest then pressed lightly to your back. His hand settled just beneath your ribs – warm, solid, steady.

Fucking perfect.

“Hey, it’s me,” he whispered close to your ear, breath hot against your skin. “I’m still fuckin’ here.”

That was it – the fucking dam broke again.

You curled inward, sobbing so hard it felt like your lungs were trying to escape your body. Everything you’d buried – the grief, the fear, the ache of missing him – unraveled like a thread pulled too tight for too long, the seams of your heart giving way all at once.

Fury. Loneliness. Need – and somewhere in it, a kind of gut-deep relief that made your ribs hurt.

And Ben? He held you through it. He always did.

Didn’t say anything more. Didn’t try to fix it. Just anchored you with his body, impossibly strong and steady and safe behind you, grounding you to something fucking real in a world that was absurd.

He was gravity, and you were in free fall.

You pressed your forehead into your pillow and cried until there was nothing left but the sound of your own ragged breath. Ben’s nose buried in your hair, lips kissed your crown, arms wrapped around you tighter.

Eventually, your breath began to slow. Evened out into lazy waves.

You turned then in the arms around you – slow, cautious, unsure of what you were doing until your face found his chest, your palms flattened gently against him. Your body still slightly trembled like the aftershocks of an earthquake, but his warmth seeped through your skin and soothed it like a balm.

You looked up, and his eyes found yours instantly – quiet, wrecked, waiting. You searched his face like you were ensuring each freckle was still in place. He looked as tired as you felt, and he wasn’t armored now.

No sneer. No shield. Nothing cruel or smug or sure. Just him – the same guy who whispered dumb jokes in the dark to make you laugh and who let you fall asleep against his chest like he’d never let go.

Just Ben.

His hand lifted and brushed a tear from your soaked cheek. Then another. And another. His thumb lingered at your jawline, rough and gentle all at once.

His forehead touched yours, and you exhaled a soft, shaking breath. He tilted his head just slightly. Not pushing. Not rushing. Just waiting.

And you kissed him.

Soft.

Slow.

Salt still on your lips.

▶️ Chapter 17: The Stuff That Dreams Are Made of – JULY 20

A lot of you asked me "Omg, how are they ever gonna get back together after all of this and that brutal fight? Something big needs to happen." But I always felt like what they needed the most was a quiet night and no armor (or only little lol). Did you expect to end it there?

And for you angsty souls out there – don't worry. Something big's still coming that will either solidify their bond more or break it altogether 😉

Coming Up:

“You want me to leave?”

Your gaze drifted to the door, then back to him. You shook your head. “Actually, I was thinking about taking a drive.”

Ben lifted a brow in surprise. “Like a joyride?”

You scoffed a chuckle. “Trust me. There won’t be any joy.”

“Even better.” He smirked and watched you roll your eyes back.

“It’s a memory thing,” you shared and grabbed your nonsensical notebook from the nightstand. “Just have to check some things I wrote in here. See if it jogs anything.”

Ben bobbed his head, gave you a smirk – just a flicker of it. “You want company?”

You didn’t smile, but your voice came softer this time. “If you can behave.”

He chuckled low in his chest. “No promises, sweetheart.”

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt. 1:

@alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lori19 @lacilou @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @syrma-sensei

@perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming @hunter-or-the-hunted

@k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways @muhahaha303

@ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith @nesnejwritings

@samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02 @impala67rollingthroughtown

@star-yawnznn @spnaquakindgdom @thej2report @americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato

@supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573 @m0e0v0v @youroldfashioned

[ineffable-doll]

Thanks for the tag, Dande!

Last song: "Golden," by HUNTR/X, from K-Pop Demon Hunters. I have been listening to the soundtrack literally daily since I saw the movie 2 weeks ago. "Golden" is, appropriately, my favorite!

Favorite color: Green!

Last book: "Strange Bedfellows," a graphic novel by Ariel Slamet Ries that I read over the last couple of lunch breaks. Absolutely freaking fantastic, the aaart, the storryyyyy!!! The queer sci-fi of my dreams!

Last Film: Cinderella! The 1997 Rodgers & Hammerstein wth Brandy. The best Cinderella movie imo - the only one I ever want to see!

Last TV show: Started my first ever kdrama, "Business Proposal," last week. I forgot I had started that actually, so this is a helpful reminder lol. It's very funny! But the secondhand embarrassment is...painful...

Sweet/savory/spicy: Sweet! I love fruit.

Relationship status: wouldn't you like to know, weather boy

Last thing I Googled DuckDuckGo-ed: In the same vein as Dande, the author to "Strange Bedfellows" for this post!

Current obsession: K-Pop Demon Hunters (started listening to the soundtrack again after checking for most recent song...) and the Life Series/Hermitcraft (my favorite way to relax at the end of the day!).

Looking forward to: Bought a couple of books through thriftbooks, which always has a pretty long shipping time. But my package will be here Friday and I'm hype!

Tags if you feel like joining! @blabbing-buttons @finleycannotdraw @cinnamoncatter @thisisnotjuli @luinlothana @hasturswig @allpurposepanda @geometricfractal @nekotachi ...and anyone else wanting to hop in!

10 things for 10(ish) people you'd like to know better

thanks for the tag bestie! @without-energy-always

last song: illit- tick tack

favourite colour: pastel pink

last book: japanese tourism: spaces, places and structures (for an essay...)

last film: harry potter and the goblet of fire

last tv show: squid game season 2

sweet/savoury/spicy: savoury yum

relationship status: engaged

last thing i googled: 'scallion pancake' lmao

current obsession: call of duty

looking forward to: going on vacation zzz

tags: @mhmmhmmhm777 @codnasties @souls-for-fandoms @shadowcompanygirl @thechaoticcheese @gaz-oline @insertcoolcharactername @sai-int @guhbwuh

[laceyhearts]

౨ৎ MUSIC AND CUPCAKES ; QUINN HUGHES !

➪ summary: what was supposed to be a quick midnight bathroom run turned into her boyfriend's brothers and their friends asking her to make cupcakes

➪ pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader, trevor zegras x fem!reader

➪ warnings: none, not proofread per usual

➪ word count: 1.2k

➪ emma's notes: i'm writing this before i post it (like a day early) so idk what to say other than enjoy 🫶🏻

© laceyhearts ; do not copy, repost, translate, or put my work through ai generators. do not copy or remake my themes, graphics, or layouts.

It was late at night, and all y/n wanted to do when she exited her and Quinn’s shared room was to go to the bathroom and return. But whispers of her name echoed down the hallway, her feet halting her movements, turning slightly to see Jack peeking around from the doorway, Luke and Trevor’s heads above his. She raised an eyebrow, arms crossing, “Yes, boys?”

“Come make cupcakes with us?” The three of them gave her the best puppy dog eyes that they could muster, which only caused her to sigh.

The three boys had always seen y/n as an older sister figure, sometimes even referring to her as a second mom despite their closeness in age. When Quinn first introduced her to not only his brothers but Trevor as well, she was shy. She didn’t talk much and they rarely ever saw her without Quinn by her side. But as the years went on, she became more like herself around the boys, laughing at the worst times, making random jokes, snorting whenever one of them would end up tripping over themselves. They quickly “adopted” her into their little family. 

Which is why, like in this instance, she found herself in the most unpredictable circumstances with them. Usually, it was playing a prank on her boyfriend or going on late-night drives to get them food, or sometimes even just tagging along on shopping trips, following them around into stores, and giving them advice on what to buy. 

“It’s almost midnight.”

“Please, please, please, please, please.” 

She sighed again, arms dropping and resting against her sides, shaking her head, “Fine.” They cheered but were quickly silenced by the look on your face. “But be quiet. Quinn’s sleeping.”

They grumbled a bit, yet made their steps quieter as they walked to the kitchen, starting to collect the ingredients they needed. She maneuvered around them, preheating the oven and finding the cupcake liners, eyes watching them and catching the tail end of the three’s mischievous shared look.

She barely had time to ask, but even if she did, she knew she’d only be ignored. Trevor’s fingers moved over his phone, navigating to Spotify before the kitchen was filled with the familiar rhythm of Katy Perry’s “California Girls” came on.

“The white girl playlist, again?”

The three grinned at her, handing her a recipe they found online for cupcakes. She glared at them before nodding, “Keep it down.”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

Halfway through making the cupcakes, she heard Jack’s voice first, then Trevor’s, and finally Luke’s singing along to “Call Me Maybe” already dancing to the beat. And out of the corner of her eye, she saw their arms moving in a way she’d seen before, groaning when she realized it was the Harvard Baseball team video. 

Blaming it on the catchy tune, she started to sing softly, cracking the eggs into the bowl, keeping her voice down not to wake Quinn, but the boys only took this as an invitation to sing louder. By the time the next song started - “Love You Like A Love Song” -, y/n had to warn them to lower their voices. But ocne again, you couldn’t help but sing along too, dancing slightly, whisk in hand.

They all started laughing after a small thing of batter flew off the whisk and landed on Jack’s shirt, who only pouted before lifting the fabric to eat the batter and resume singing. He reached around her, grabbing the clean whisk from it’s holder, using it as a makeshift microphone as he continued to sing. 

“Unwritten” started playing soon after, the four sharing shared looks before belting the lyrics. The cupcakes were long forgotten as everything sat on the counter, each of them holding a differen kitchen utensil as a microphone - Jack the whisk, Trevor a rolling pin, Luke a wooden spoon, and her a spatula. 

Meanwhile, Quinn tossed and turned in his bed, hearing faint chatter, and assumed that his brothers were playing Mario Kart a little too late again. He lay face down on the bed as he reached his right arm out to wrap around his gir,lfriend’s waist but frowned when all he felt was a pile of bed sheets instead. That’s when he heard the voices getting louder, mumbling curses to himself as he got out of bed. 

He rubbed his eyes as he made his way down the stairs, each step closer to the kitchen. Turning the corner, he flinched as four voices yelled in sync, “FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN!”

His eyes widened as he continued into the kitchen, trying to comprehend the scene in front of him. Jack was dancing on the island, and the other three, still singing your hearts out. He watched with amusement, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like a mom who was preparing to yell at her kids.

The song came to end just as he cleared his throat causing all four heads snapped to him. Y/n’s eyes softened and immediately started apologizing, making her way over to him“I am so so so sorry, babe. I was just going to the bathroom, and then they asked if I wanted to make cupca,kes and they used the puppy dog eyes, so I couldn’t really say no. I tried to get them to be quiet, but Trevor put on the playlist and well…”

He smiled a little, happy that she was getting along with his brothers and Trevor, “I’m glad you’re…” He trailed off, “having fun, but it is almost 1:30 in the morning and the closest thing I see to a cupcake is the batter in the bowl.”

The girl groaned, looking back at the boys, then the bowl, and then at her hands that had flour caked on them, “I forgot about the cupcakes.”

Quinn eyed the three, “Alright, the two of us are going to bed, and you can either finish making the cupcakes or clean up.”

It was the boys turn to groan, exchanging looks, “We won’t be able to do it without her.”

“You were barely able to do it with her, no offense, baby.” He kissed her temple as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close so her back was flush with his chest.

She giggled at his response and watched as the boys slowly got to work, not sure if they were trying to clean up or finish making them. Quinn pulled her up to their bedroom, flopping down on the bed. She crawled in next to him, immediately making her home on his chest. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” She peered up at him, eyes soft and innocent like she’d just committed the biggest crime against him.

“It’s okay, I’ll live. But I am never letting you live this down.”

“That’s okay, I still remember the time I came home from work and you, Jack, and Luke were listening to Selena Gomez.”

He threw his head back and laughed, “Of course you remember. Now go to bed, baby.”

“If we hear smoke alarms soon, I’m blaming you.”

“Why?”

“Because you left the boys down there without an adult.”

PART ONE ; QH43 MASTERLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; OTHER MASTERLISTS

JOIN THE TAGLIST ; MY NAVIGATION

[hazelsoup]

Back to You

thunderbolts!bucky x fugitive!reader summary: two years after bucky disappears from your life, you find him at your door - uninvited and full of regrets. except now, you're a fugitive, and he's an avenger. valentina wants you dead. bucky says he's here to help. but trust is a luxury you can't afford - and bucky may already be too late. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── warnings/tags: angst, mild language, brief mentions of death, tension (they want each other so bad), lowk lovers to enemies to lovers again, mention of Valentina allegro defontaine (yes she's a warning), talks of assassination, longing, mistrust, trust issues, weapons, guns, attempted breaking & entering, uhhh I think thats all idk

a/n: This is my first time EVER posting a fic anywhere ever. I'm lowk so nervous cuz idk how to do this but ummm enjoy, I guess? and lmk if u want a part 2 heh ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I am half-asleep and buried in my sofa when I hear it. 

The soft creak of footsteps along the hardwood floor just outside my apartment door. 

The quiet is intentional. Stealthy. The person in the hall did not want to be heard. They knew I was listening. Or, maybe they were the one listening. 

I imagine my intruder’s ear pressed against the door, maybe one hand picking a lock as gently as they can, assuming I am asleep at the late hour. 

But I never sleep. Not anymore. 

I am all but quick as I tilt my head towards the noise, watching as a silhouette dances under the crack of the door. It stretches along the tiles, illuminated only by the hall outside. I exhale through my nostrils. I am not worried. I knew he would be coming. 

There is a click and the knob shifts. Creaks downward, and my intruder presses forward. They must be an idiot if they thought I only had one lock.

I suppress an only slightly irritated groan, forcing myself up from the sofa and grabbing the gun holstered into my thigh. I didn’t even bother removing it before plopping onto the couch earlier. At least it was easy to grab, now that I needed it. 

I approach the door slowly, keeping my footsteps light, my breathing slow. I hold the gun to the door, watching as the silhouette shifts through the other side. 

Quietly, slowly, I unlock the door, and swiftly pull it open. On the other side stands the one man I had been dreading to see, his eyebrows raised in sudden surprise – although I knew very well that he’d been coming. 

“Barnes.” My tone is harsher than I expected as I narrow my eyes at him, the resentment I’d forced all the way down threatening to spill back up. An unexpected tide of emotion flares at the sight of him, and I feel my throat lodge with something unspeakable. 

It’s been two years. 

Bucky says my name wearily, his tone laced with regret and exasperation all in one. I can’t tell if he’s upset with me, or with himself. All I know is that it doesn’t matter, because he’s only here for one thing. “We need to talk.” 

I don’t know why I’m shocked. I know he’s here to discuss how I’ve become a fugitive to the government–how Valentina deFontaine hired me for my assassination skills, only to try to exterminate me in the process. She wanted her slate cleaned, and I was evidence of her dirty work. I’d later discovered this had been the case for many assassins working under her wing–I’d just been the one lucky enough to survive. 

“Were you trying to break in?” I ask, stepping back so he can enter. “Because all you needed to do was knock.” It’s a bitter attempt at a joke, mostly because I am not used to him being here. Not at all. Bucky scoffs. “You wouldn’t have opened the door if I hadn’t at least tried.” 

I walk over to the sofa and plop back down, leaning my head back on the cushions. “No.” I holster my gun. “I wouldn’t have.” 

Bucky takes a moment to look around. His gaze is sharp and calculating as it skims the room. His frame is large in the midst of the small, dark apartment, and suddenly the room feels tighter. I try not to shift in my seat – Bucky will know I’m already uncomfortable. 

Tonight, I need to show him I’m not afraid of Valentina's bullshit, or whatever garbage he’s delivered on her behalf. I know that he works for her, too. Or, more, she works for him. After the team of vigilantes became the serendipitous New Avengers, it wasn’t clear who was controlling who. All I know is that they’re on the same side. Which means Bucky and I are not. 

“How…” He starts, and I am already beginning to roll my eyes. “How have you been–?” “Don’t with the small talk.” I throw him an impatient look. “I get it. I haven’t seen you in two years, you’re a part of the New Avengers, and you’re here to take me in so Valentina can have me killed. No pleasantries. Is that so hard?” 

“Well, I figured, since it’s been a while–” Bucky says after a pause, although he doesn’t seem fazed. I cut him off again. “If you cared, you would have come earlier. Before the New Avengers.” This time, he gives me a look of resignation, as if he hadn’t had any choice. 

He did. 

“You’re right.” He says, placing a hand on his hip. “Valentina sent me here to bring you in.” 

I scoff. “What else is new?”

“But I’m not going to.” Bucky crosses his arms, and I glance up at him, unsurprised. “Oh? And why’s that?” 

“Because I want to talk. I’m not letting her get you killed for something she made you do.” I avoid his gaze, because I won’t let myself believe that he cares. I eye the TV screen across the sofa, dark, just like everything else in this apartment. Bucky’s reflection is a blurry patch of obsidian next to my own, and I can see the shape of his large arms folded over his chest, reserved and calm and patient. 

“She didn’t make me do anything, Bucky.” I say, watching the blank TV screen. “I’m the one who’s getting paid for doing the dirty work.” 

“I don’t think you had a choice. Or deserve to die because of it.” 

I snort. “Tell that to the government. There’s nothing you can do to stop Valentina from getting my ass wiped off the face of this planet.” 

Bucky is silent. But it’s not resolute. It’s calculating. 

He’s thinking. 

“What’re you up to? Some sort of super secret escape plan that will get me off of this continent and into the arms of the next Allegra deFontaine?”

“I know how to keep you safe. If you’ll let me.” Bucky says after a moment, completely ignoring what I just said. 

I sit up, although my interest is not piqued. After leaving me alone for two years, I’m not sure I know the supersoldier in front of me anymore. “I don’t need you to keep me safe. I need you to leave.” I say, eyeing him as I begin to stand. I want to reach his height – show him I’m better off alone. Although, if I’m being honest with myself, I know that’s a lie. “I can’t do that.” Bucky says lowly, glaring at me. “Valentina will find you just like I did. The next time an Avenger is at your door, it won’t be me standing there. It will be someone who wants to get their job done. Someone who is willing to get you killed.” 

I hold his gaze. “Valentina sent you. She’ll know you’ve hidden me somewhere if you come back empty-handed. This is a trap.” I state, taking a step closer. 

“Valentina doesn’t know I’m here.” He says, his voice a low rumble. My breathing falters. He came here without her knowing?

“That’s dangerous.” I tell him, and I don’t let the shock I feel show on my face. 

“It’s nothing new.” He says, and there’s a familiar glint in his eye. 

I eye him for a moment. I don’t know what he’s up to. His motives have long changed since I’d seen him last – with shorter hair, less lines on his face and those strong hands hidden beneath worn leather gloves. Now he wore no gloves – his metal hand bare, and I realize it’s because he’s no longer the low-profile ex-assassin trying to return to a normal life. Now, he’s an Avenger, and everyone knows who he is – there’s no reason to hide what everyone already knows is there. I briefly recall going to the store late at night only to see his face plastered onto a Wheaties box, my chest aching and my head pounding. It was the late hour, and his face was the last thing I had wanted to see.  Ironic how that hadn’t been the case only a few years prior. 

“Why do you care if I’m killed?” I ask finally, crossing my arms defensively. “It’s not like you cared before. Before you went ahead and became the one and only Congressman James Buchanan Barnes. Didn’t even care to call or drop by uninvited until you needed something from me. Is that all I am to you, Barnes?” I glare up at him. “A convenient asset? A means to an end? Just some weapon you can rely on when all the others are old and rusty?” Bucky’s throat bobs as though lodged with everything he wants to say – as if he can’t choose which one to spew first. He exhales through his nose before speaking. “You know you’re so much more than that to me.” He says, his voice softer. He doesn’t bother with the excuses. Doesn’t even flinch at my accusations. He knows what he’s done. And that makes it so much harder to hate him. 

I don’t say anything. I’m too frustrated.

He continues anyway. “What will you do when Valentina finds you? Honestly?” 

I look away, studying the door. I wish he would leave. I wish he had never come through it in the first place. “Fight them off. Find someplace else to stay.” 

Bucky almost snorts. “Like that’ll work.” 

“Really? Why not?” I know he’s right. He knows I know. 

He grows exasperated, but his voice does not rise. “They know where you are. Val’s probably going to send Yelena or Walker over here in the dead of night–”

“–Funny, that’s exactly what you’re doing.” I comment. 

“–and the next thing you know, there’ll be a bullet in your head. And even if you do manage to fight them off–” he basically taunts me with the absurdity of my own words. “–it won’t be hard for them to find you again. It didn’t even take me twenty-four hours.”

My arms tighten around my chest. Bucky’s words hang in the air. I was an idiot to think I was ever safe to begin with. “So, then what?” I ask, because it seems a little hopeless when he puts it that way. “What would you do if I agreed to… whatever plan you have for me?”  

Bucky’s brows twitch, as though he had expected even more defiance than I had already given him. “My plan is to keep you safe. But you have to trust me. If you stay here, you’ll die.” He says my name after that, a gentle plea, as if to convince me to listen, to let him show me that he really cares. 

I take a moment to savour the sound of it on his lips without the harshness he had carried with him when he’d said it before. Then I process what he’s said after that – and, again, I know he’s right. It’s disgusting. I hate admitting that he’s right. It makes me want to throw up in my mouth. 

“I know you don’t trust me,” he says, stepping forward. There’s a softness to him now that I’ve finally caved, his eyes furrowed with more concern than frustration, his shoulders less tense now that he’s convinced me to come with him. 

“I never said that.” I say, although it’s harsh and bitter and filled with everything I never got to say to him. I may hate him, but I know Bucky. We’d spent so much time alongside each other before… everything… that it was hard not to know him. Not to trust him. 

Bucky’s face doesn’t shield the surprise at my words, although he is quick to recover. “I know someplace you can stay, somewhere safe and far away from here. But I can’t say more than that right now.” He tells me, his eyes scanning the apartment once more. “Pack your things.” He says quietly. “And I’ll tell you everything on the way.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── to be continued...

a/n (again): I really just wanted to get this out of my google docs and into the open, but pls lmk if u want a part two, idk how Tumblr works so im not expecting this to get a million likes or views or whatever. anyways pls lmk what u think hehehe

[convexfuss]

HI. New CRK AU idea is blasting me in the face. Fallen Angel type of vibes ya know... Anyway here's PVC's design. SMC's too... His WAS a lot cleaner but then WB did a thing and crashed then I had to salvage what I had LMAO

(I... I forgot the lil' bottom part of his outfit, with the eyes. And he's supposed to have wings too but if you look below the cut you'll see what happened LMAO I'll properly do a not-messed up thing for him eventually </3)

Anyway uhuhuhumm... I am still heavily working on the lore but I have some basics figured out! I need to clean it up and sort out a lot more of the specific details and make it flow nice n smoothly n stuffs but if you're curious, that'll also be below! :]

I am So Normal about this AU-in-Progress.

Whiteboard ILY but GODDAMMIT lmao,

ANYWAY.

The base idea is kind of... well, basic. All the Beasts have more of a demon/fallen angel look to 'em, methinks. But, of course, I have a BIG SMC bias, so of COURSE, he's my main focus, LMAO

ANYWAY. My FIRST big brain moment when brainstorming was, like, "What if the Witches stripped SMC of a bit more than half of his souljam power as an even greater consequence of starting this in the first place."

AND ALSO, "What if they put him deeper in the tree as well."

And those initial thoughts/ideas lead to, "Beasts are still VERY strong with just HALF of their power. And SMC, being stripped of a bit more than half (3/4ths? 2/3rds? In between? Not fully sure as of right now), is... definitely weaker than the other Beasts." BUT.

BUT.

BUT. THIS IS A BIG PART. I think, as a Beast— essentially, fallen angel (as all the Beasts are here)— a DEMON— he is able to feed off of his own building, seething, anger, hurt, betrayal, all of whatever bad feelings he's feeling (and they're likely a lot more intense than in canon, given, y'know.) And that DOES help him get strong enough to break out during the end of BY1, despite being deeper in the tree. Let me explain!

Something I love to include in any of my AUs with fallen angel and/or demon themes (it happens a Lot More than you'd think, LMAO), is that Demons THRIVE off of chaos and fear and generally Not Great Things. It legitimately fuels them, makes them stronger. They're, like, EATING the chaos or something, /hj, but, you get where I'm going with this, I'd assume?

I think, technically, feeding off of one's own fear and other icky bad feelings is very possible. Especially in the case where you're alone, locked away in a tree, deeper down than anyone else, and there's nothing else to do but be ANGRY. And all those other things, y'know?

I won't yap on this specific thing forever but I DO hope this makes sense. This little creature can fit so much seething rage inside his teeny tiny body </3 BUT, YEAH, I think that's how he's still able to get out and cause the events of BY2... or SOMETHING like that, LMAOXGSOGZIZHS

Silly lil' jester demon guy that is filled with WAY too much anger for his own good or smth idk, but he stays silly... /silly

Anyway. I'm going on a tangent. But THOSE were my thoughts for THAT bit. And I have MORE thoughts. For Pure Vanilla Cookie. Cause... as you see, uh, gestures at the first image in the post. So! Let me get to that.

PVC's souljam. I think, because of SMC losing more than half of his power, that his Light of Truth/Souljam of Truth/Whatever, has... more power than the other Ancient souljams. So, because of that, he's a bit more suseptible to... gestures (again.)

Ough. Okay. These are the BASICS of the LORE. I can yap a bit about some PVC n' SMC related thoughts. (Please don't tag this as ship btw! If you've read this far, anyway; all of my SMC's are aroace and romance repulsed!)

One of the things I was thinking about was, like, "What if part of what happens to PVC is that SMC actually ends up getting some power from the souljam back. Which, essentially, means, in a way, he snatched some of PVC's soul." Cause I DO think that fits in with the whole demon/fallen angel theme. Of COURSE, it's not a lot; it likely ended up bumping SMC's power up to half like rhe rest of the Beasts (or potentially, just barely more than half.)

And that was. As far as that thought went! Cause this is very early stages, I thought of this last night and have been throwing stuff together for barely 24 hours at this point GSOZGDISH so there are a LOT of details I still need. To figure out and work on. Cause again these are, like, the basics.

ANOTHER THING BEFORE I END THIS OFF, ACTUALLY, THOUGH, is that I want to throw in there that PVC doesn't have a souljam of deciet. I don't think it's truth, anymore, though, either. I'm not quite sure what it'd be, yet, but... something in between! It'd be funny if it was Truthlessness, actually, /JOKE, I dunno if that's what I'd go with but it made me giggle.

That, and also that I don't think PVC is evil or anything, here. He's... fucked up, for sure! Like, he's definitely Not The Same, and his characterization would be a Bit Different... was thinking it'd be something between regular ol' PVC and Truthless Recluse, but AGAAINNN, I'd have to... figure specifics out. I probably will over time.

(ALSSOOO I do think PVC is still friends with his friends here, even if their friendships aren't Quite the Same or Whatever. I could NOT take his friends away from him </3)

THIS POST IS VERY LONG. UH. TY TY TY FOR LOOKING AT THIS WITH YOUR EYEBALLS. I have been so normal since last night. ( <- Liar), uhuuuuuh if you're reading this bit, I think Fallen!Pure Vanilla Cookie is a BANGER name for this dude, especially considering I'm thinking about naming this The Fall or something along those lines (based off an album! Go listen to The Fall (Extended) by Chxrlotte LANSPZJZOSGSI)

OKAY. OKAY. THAT IS ALL. GOODNIGHT.

[greetings-humans]

*cracks knuckles* okay i gotcha

these are pretty unfiltered since idk what you're into? some are oneshots, most are chaptered, most are novel-length, other's aren't. i don't tend to read E rated stuff so there's very few of that here. I tend to steer clear of Not-Skaters AUs but I'm really into canon divergent and different first meeting AUs. oh and this is all viktuuri/viktor/yuuri-centric. but yeah here u go:

A Myriad of Possibilities // 92k. the best YOI fic i've ever read ngl. what if: Viktor didn't go to Japan to find Yuuri. told in a non-linear narrative. this literally inspired me to write my own yoi fic in a non-linear way. phenomal fic really. has made me cry (in a good way).

Tribute // WIP (30k). what if Vik abruptly retires and Yuuri decides he's gonna skate ALL of viktor's programs in one season. this is bonkers btw because that's 36 programs and skaters only skate 2 programs (plus an exhibition maybe) per season. i would kill for this yuuri. and also this phichit<333

Dance of the Red Death // 81k. what if viktor got AIDs ft normal yoi plot. NO Major Character Death. this fic taught me so much my god. it can be very raw sometimes, but it's about how in 2016, life (and love) isn't necessarily over because you have AIDs/are HIV positive.

all the missed chances (wait for me, i'm coming) // 97k. viktor has an incognito twitter account and follows yuuri on it. shenanigans ensue. super funny and adorable fic! identity porn (which, if you don't know, does NOT mean porn. it means there's secret identity shenaniganery)

It Ain't Much, It's Only Everything // 57k. soulmate au, it all started when viktor's soulmark got leaked publicly. see yuuri is pretty sure that's his soulmark. but then a day later there's a headline: viktor nikiforov finds soulmate. this fic was so cute, actually! adorable viktuuri and wonderfully written chris.

Tadaima // 12k. Viktor, finding a home at last. & from afar // 3k. sometimes you defend someone else because you're not sure how to defend yourself (ft. queerness) [both of these are written by stammiviktor who has some genuinely wonderful stuff, you should check out their other fics!]

a call to motion // WIP (137k), but oh my god. it's a more cynical/realistic take on how Russian skaters are often treated and the abuse they go through at the hands of their coaches (the of coach is not yakov here, but he does appear later as a good guy). this fic is also about leaving all that behind and getting better! (this one is another stammiviktor classic, this one btw)

Let Me Fall For You // 397k. yuuri pulls an upset victory at the sochi olympics (ft. the pressures of competitive skating, yakov not being nice here and viktor realizing life can be better). the viktuuri here was phenomenal. also this yuuri?? i love him.

When The World Stops… // 197k. genuinely would kill for this fic. viktor gets injured and has to retire but yakov encourages him to start coaching. ft yuuri who is still competing. the viktuuri oh my god. the way they got together?? i am CRAZY about them I swear.

At a Time Like This // 95k. what if viktuuri met while viktor was still skating? ft. i love this yuuri! this one is so sweet and the viktuuri is adorable!

obligatory self-plug?? This is my fic: cut people out like tags on my clothing (someday I'll be falling without caution) // WIP (19k). explores pre-canon, fills in some things canon left unsaid and continues with post-canon. non-linear and viktor-centric. uhh feel free to give it a shot but also no pressure lmao.

need your best yuri on ice ao3 fics or fic writers rn this is an emergency

[kata-the-bee]

ALRIGHT, POSITIVE CALLOUT POST TIME!

@stounyx is an absolutely awesome guy who, without his insistence, I wouldn't even be here on Tumblr. He's an amazing friend that encouraged me to put my art out there to the masses and he's also the reason why I got into Cult of the Lamb in the first place! Also, he writes his own Narinder centric fic. You should read!

@daniel55678 is an awesome hype guy who comments on nearly every post of mine. Seriously, it's something so sweet and nice to look forward to! You help inspire me to draw more because you engage with me. Thank youuuu

@whysoblue2 This person here? AMAZING! Love your fics, love your art, and the goofy thing we started with Wormageddon is something I adore. Plus you telling me my lore posts were well written was honestly so heartwarming since I wasn't sure if they were any good. Keep it up!

@joffyworld is an absolute hype guy that I adore seeing reblog tags from! You're another big reason why I keep up art posting here. It's super fun and you're one of my biggest and most consistent supporters here. Thank you for being you

@bialejaja I have adored watching your art style grow and change over the relatively short time you've been on Tumblr. I am so glad I've been with your page from the very start because your art is so warm and haunting! It mixes whimsy and horror so perfectly and it's something I always look forward to seeing!

@eliza-forget Welcome back!! I missed seeing your amazing art and I'm glad that you seem to be doing better! Your comics and art tug at the heartstrings with master precision and your full colored arts are always so gorgeous. Seriously, you're one of the best I've ever seen. You're able to catch such raw emotion and you know your color balances perfectly!

@alllgator-blood Another amazing artist!!! Your style going from cute and cheery to jarring and harsh so quickly that it leaves the readers of your comics truly feeling everything your characters do. The saturated colors are striking without being overwhelming and your commitment to detail and emotion is absolutely wonderful. Your updates may take time being the wait is well worth it every single post!

And to everyone else I didn't name specifically, know that I greatly appreciate your support! Every like, every reblog, every comment inspires me to keep making things for you all to enjoy and I'm really glad that you all do enjoy! So take all my appreciation and know that words alone cannot fully express how much your interactions mean to me 💗💗💗💗

And to those mysterious anons that keep bullying Valefar, y'all are so funny. It's fun to draw her getting into trouble. I love answering your asks!

[nousporix]

( — from , @wollycobbl3-blr / @.facetedsin-wav )

i cant lie, i was writing a whole ass bulleted summary of the bnd!phainon fic in my reblog tags in the middle of class, but i. was doing it on phone. so when i came back to it like 3-5hrs later, it was gone. my grief is immeasurable and my fury is a force to be reckoned with /j. i took the time to mourn bc it got so stupidly detailed, BUT lets do this aita reddit post style, laced with every single thing in the world (notes: educ system is based on my country's)

—————

hey reddit, aita if im freaking the fuck abt how im pining on my childhood friend who's really sweet but also insanely hot? like am i crazy for this out-of-my-league guy that ive liked for yrs + yearned for + missed when he doesn't even know that i was the person in his life back then

i (>20, gn) have this friend from when i was in kinder, lets call him sunshine (>20, m), and we are like. we are like 🤞🤞 we're like that. he married me and had his dog as the officiator when we were in first grade. we have matching plushies and jokingly call/ed them our children—we gifted them to each other during christmas of 2016 or something. we have basically been together for a while.

sounds really cute, right? but here's the catch ☝️ he had to move away 5-6yrs ago. to vaguely phrase it in case he's somehow on this site, a thing happened in the area that he lived in. sunshine has to move somewhere else completely and switch schools. he was SO upset that his mother delayed their trip for a day just so he could hang out w me one last time. and yk who went an insanely early morning walk with him, where they both just ended up crying and bullying each other for how dumb we looked.. just for them to also walk him back to the station where he was due to get on that train and leave??? ME. i cannot begin to tell you how much i ugly cried AFTER. istg i was dehydrated for days.. pmo + my parents essentially called me bitchmade for crying over a guy but OKAY. WHATEVER. AT LEAST YOU'RE MARRIED. but wait!! there's more!! of course there's more!!

so those 5-6yrs pass and i'm personally doing fine. ive moved on to some degree, I Miss Him So Bad but i don't let that root me to the ground and instead let it motivate me in the background, amongst every other new thing that popped into my life 😍 i move forward, (move away from home so i can) move up from senior high's fuckass but rlly memorable and fun humanities strand, and i GET INTO COLLEGE. I FUCKING WIN. I'M DOING GREAT. regrettably admit that i started go lock in too hard and sorta laser focused on the present at some point tho. sunshine is barely on my mind because i have 10000 essays to submit and a bunch of drama that i talk abt with my friends in stem. horribly single also, but this is extremely important, so i apologize in advance

do note that i barely look anything like 13(?) yr old me. im arguably way cooler and i have piercings and i stressed dyed my hair (insert color) once. i used to dress in cutesy cartoon merch, now i just wear whatever is comfortable AND easy on the eyes, because suffering for fashion is overrated. you get the gist; im not who i was before

anyway, college, right? ive been in this cool neighborhood that's a 15-20min walk from the campus for the entirety of senior high, and id soon start for college there.. everybody is really nice, we're all buddies and i like to help out whenever i can. why not, am i right? it's courtesy and it's polite wnd it's friendly and its DEMURE.

and i hear news that there's this new guy that moves into the area, who's a new student AT that same school; im like, "cool! amazing!" and immediately want to get friendly. say hi, maybe help with boxes, or give him a housewarming gift, all that stuff. i'll paint a picture for you: very quaint house, 3:56pm in the afternoon, i'm bringing him some cut up fruits and iced tea (in case he's not a coffee guy), because jesus CHRIST the sun was hotter than my daily login streak on my games. i ring the doorbell, i hear barking and someone going down the stairs, and i'm like. "okay, [name], same aged neighbor! don't fuck it up!"

so take a wild fucking guess as to who my neighbor is 😁

LO AND BEHOLD, SUNSHINE IS IN MY FACE. SMILING WITH HIS FLUFFY SAMOYED PUPPY AT HIS FEET. how do i know that its him? his hair and eyes are very.. he sticks out like a sore thumb, let's just say that, and i know them ANYWHERE. and you know what's worse? HIS GLOW UP WAS INSANE. not that he didn't look great before, he was literally such a cutie that i wanted to bite his head off sometimes from sheer cuteness aggression alone, but MY GOD. he was so unnecessarily pretty and tall and he's broad as hell, like?? i swear i forgot my name for a minute bc he was like "earth to neighbor? :(" HIS VOICE IS SLSO. SORRY. HE'S JUST SO 👹👹👹👹👹 YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND.

i did actually forget to tell him my name (i was Very Distracted), but he was so sweet and friendly, almost exactly how i remembered him to be when we were dumb highschoolers, just multiplied by a lot. like, it feels like a puppy was taking care of a puppy, ygwim? that aside, he's just so :(( everything about him was just so.

here's the thing though... he doesn't remember me, i don't think. like, my name isn't UNCOMMON by any means, so you'd think "man, this is probably a different [name], there's a few [names] out there" if you knew someone by that name, and i told you that it was. my name.

not only that, but like i mentioned before, im unrecognizable as hell, a far cry from the kid i was back then. not just in terms of appearance, but personality as well; kid me was cheery, loved doing anything involving going outside or hanging out with friends, and like... generally, they were just absurdly happy. now im arguably more mellowed out, i go to the library for fun, im Lowkey Tired of This, etcetera. would anybody even recognize that?

im probably js overreacting and he moved ahead like i did, but it kinda STINGS, u have to understand. your best friend forever wnd ever doesn't recognize you at all, and likely believes that you're just his really nice next-door neighbor that brings him fruits and iced drinks for your study sessions (we're in the same department but diff courses). he even talks about stuff you did in the past and not wanting to make things awkward, you nod along like "yyyeeeaaaaahhh sounds cute" like he didn't do that with YOU. ME. ive been keeping it to myself for a while, but its only been a few months, and im abt to crash tf out. idk what to do.

like, do i tell him that i was that friend and get back what we had, or shld his memories of me be separate from... the present me? aita for this shit

WAIT THIS FORMAT IS SO FUCKING UNIQUE? I'VE LEGIT NEVER SEEN THIS BEFORE, I FUCKING LOVE THIS. BRO YOU COULD SEGUE INTO A NORMAL FIC FORMAT RSGGHHHAHS

okay but fr. fr fr this is the start of something so fucking angsty and beautiful. bc what if phainon recognizes you immediately, but he thinks the same thing because he doesn't want to overwhelm you with his intense feelings and longing. ORRRR what if you drop hints and he still doesn't recognize you, so you ignore him and then he finds out by chance and and he feels awful so he does whatever he can to make it up to you and falls in love with you all over again and andnskndsjsn?!?@*@*$

BND!PHAINON YOU'RE SO FUCKING HOT KISS ME RN ACTUALLYLGKDKKDD I NEED HIM SO BAD BRO PLEALSLEELE YOU GOT ME ACTIVATED RN

[serensama]

Thursday Bangers: Dr, Who?

YES IM UP TO DATE! MWAHAHAH! My many thanks to @woundedsoul12 for this amazing game and much love to @brennacedria for picking a kick ass song. I was actually going to change scenes, but because of this spectacular choice, we got a little more sweetness. Teehee.

Read on Ao3

Rules: Free form a blurb or drawing based on the weekly lyrics prompt. It doesn't have to include the prompt just whatever you're inspired to write, write it! Then tag some friends so they can play as well. It doesn't have to be finished on Thursday just post it whenever you can (you have a whole week between Thursdays).

"Baby, you're all that I want, When you're lyin' here in my arms, I'm findin' it hard to believe, We're in heaven" – Heaven by Bryan Adams

---

Illario stepped back and allowed her to hop off the desk, her hands quick to ensure her hair was still in place, rearranging the neckline of her dress, which had somehow gotten skewed in their brief interlude. He sighed and shrugged his shirt cuffs into place, fixing the collar of his shirt with a practised pull of his finger at the button. He lamented moving toward the door to reach for his jacket, because that would mean the end of their only time alone together that night, when he saw her head there first, her fingers already reaching for it.

He paused, mildly startled, unsure exactly what to do.

Lilya held his tuxedo jacket up without thinking, expectantly, the same way one might offer someone a pamphlet or pass the salt across the table. She was not trying to do anything out of her nature; in fact, it looked to be the opposite. Something completely ingrained in who she was and what she was used to, not to be showy or try to impress him. It was just... automatic. Like she’d done it for him before and like she always would. That was a thought he never expected would make his heart skip a beat. 

Illario didn’t say anything; he only coughed into his hand and walked over to her, letting her help him slip into it. He tried to remain relaxed as her hands smoothed the fabric down across his shoulders and down his back. Sure fingers brushing over his lapel once, twice and then thrice- just for good measure.

He was drunk. He had to be. Otherwise, why did it feel like it meant more than just a kind gesture? As if he were being chosen, like someone deciding he was worthwhile. Worthy. 

His silence made her glance up, worried that she had done something to offend him. She knew some men hated being fussed over, but she wanted to make sure he looked impeccable walking back into the hall. She wasn’t the one under scrutiny tonight; he was. 

“What?” she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

He was smiling at her, openly now, unable to hide it even if he tried. A soft, arrested kind of smile that made her feel too warm, too lost and all too good for it to be considered normal.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “Just… It’s nothing.”

She blinked, curious as to what was going on in the man’s mind to make him smile at her like he knew a secret but was not allowed to tell her. “What?”

“No, nothing,” he grinned, patting a hand over her hair and enjoying the silken strands under his fingertips. “Don’t even worry about it.” 

“Mhmm,” Lilya hummed, letting him keep his secrets for the moment. They didn’t have time to dawdle, and the last thing she wanted was for Teia to knock on the door asking for her to be able to ‘come out and play’ with the rest of the guests. Or worse- Caterina. Lilya looked up and giggled at the pink-hued smudges that had transferred onto his mouth and jaw. She leaned in and narrowed her eyes with a smirk, fingers lifting to his face. “Well, we can’t have you going out like this,” she said lightly, using her thumb to wipe away the faint sheen of her lip gloss from the corner of his mouth. “As pretty as you are, Mr Dellamorte, this really is not your colour.”

He huffed out quietly, eyes crinkling from holding back his laughter. And then he stepped forward, gently pressing her back against the closed office door. It had not started with want this time, but wonder. He did not understand what twist of fate brought her there, within arms' reach once again, but now he had her, he wasn’t going to let go. Illario reached for her like he’d been waiting for the moment for years, hands drifting down her sides to glide slowly along the seam of her sinfully indulgent velvet dress. 

“Maker,” he whispered. “This fabric. I knew it was perfect.”

His palms followed the curve of her waist, over her hips, then back up again, pressing just low enough on her back to earn him a quiet, involuntary gasp from her lips. That sound. Maker, that sound made his thoughts stutter.

Lilya’s eyes fluttered open, dazed, breathing so shallowly from just a simple touch, she thought she might pass out. “We are well past our allotted five minutes, Illario,” she murmured.

“I know,” he said, pressing a kiss on the tip of each ear, earning him another soft hum. 

“You, good sir, are cheating,” she whimpered, as a shiver went through her as his hands cupped her ass for only a moment.

“I’m trying very hard not to,” he said, voice hoarse. “You’re not making it easy.”

Lilya stifled a grin against his chest, trying her damndest not to give in. It would be so, so easy to take his hand and run away into one of the waiting cars there and take him back home. But that was going to lead them right back to where they started- and Brown’s quote of the definition of insanity- of doing things over and over and expecting different results rang loudly in her mind. 

He cupped her cheek then, eyes locking onto hers. “This colour,” he said softly, brushing his thumb beneath her right eye. “This colour will be the death of me.”

She swallowed, suddenly unable to remember how to think.

“No matter how hard I tried,” he continued, “I could never get it right.”

“…W-What?” she whispered, a whirling in her stomach she had to believe were either butterflies or her intestines tying themselves in knots from her giddiness. 

“The green,” he said, as if speaking to himself rather than answering her question. “I tried to find the right shades and tones. I layered them together, the foliage, the flowers, the specific way the lights would hit the plants… but I could never get it right.”

And just like that, she finally understood. 

Green.

She remembered Lucanis saying it once as they danced, tapping at his eye cryptically as if that were enough for her to solve the deep mysteries of the Dellamorte psyche, like that one word and action was the equivalent to him using skywriting to say “you do realise everything around you is your green?”

Her eyes. He had meant her eyes.

On one of the most important nights of his life, Illario had painted the world green. Her green. Even believing she would never be there to see it, never know. But still, he had surrounded himself with the colour of her gaze. Not to impress her or for spectacle, but because he missed her. Because, on some quiet, lonely level, he needed to feel like she was with him. Watching. Smiling. Beside him, with him, even if only in symbolism. What kind of man did that?

Well, she was with him now. 

Lilya looked up at him - at the boy with eyes that smouldered with sorrow and sweetness both - and felt her chest give out. Her hands reached for him without bidding, wrapping her arms around his neck, fingers curling into the fine material of his jacket as she kissed him, no longer concerned about the wrinkles it would cause. 

This wasn’t a mistake. This wasn’t her doing the same thing and expecting something different. This was different. Yes, they had agreed: five minutes only, just to let everything out and be able to breathe… but how was she supposed to breathe, now?

She pulled back, breathing heavily, hands somehow back on his lapels and holding onto them for dear life- even though she could feel his hands strong around her waist. “Illa- Illario, you just can’t drop something like that on a person.” 

“Like what?” he asked all too innocently. She truly believed he didn’t know the weight of his words, which made it all the more disarming. Illario rested his temple against hers, willing himself not to dip his face into her neck, to drag his teeth across her supple skin. 

“Like a Mr Darcy-esque, ‘I love you ardently’, desperate, devastating confession about my eyes and expect me to be completely unaffected,” she murmured against his cheek, breath uneven.

“Good. I don’t want you to be unaffected. I want you affected as much as I am, Lilya. You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he said softly, forehead against hers. “You. Here. Like this. Everything finally feels right. And it’s insane, you know it. I know it. I’ve never… had… this. I don’t know what this is, but I do know, for the first time in months, I can breathe again.”

“This?” she asked, eyes searching his intently for silent validation she didn’t know she wanted. 

He nodded and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, causing her to wrinkle it in response. He was obsessed with it already, wanting to do it over and over, learn and count all the different ways she’d crinkle the adorable little thing. Andraste, what was happening to him? 

She grinned, the sharp glint he so adored returning in her eyes. 

“You’ve been dreaming of me like this? Pressed against a door, velvet between us… and your silk trousers doing very little to hide anything? My, my Mr Dellamorte. What exquisitely specific kinks you have. Good to know.”

He blinked twice before laughing, full-bodied, his hand giving hers a warm squeeze instead of an answer.

“Alright, now that…that… is over, I’ll go first,” she said after a minute, slipping back into some semblance of composure. She was not going to think about him, his body or the intensity of his feelings. Not until she was in the safety of her house, where she could scream bloody murder all she wanted whilst kicking her legs in the air like a bloody love-sick teenager. “If we walk out of this room together and someone sees us, polite society will implode.”

He nodded. She hesitated as she cracked the door open, and then squeezed his hand one more time - and was gone.

Illario let the door close slowly behind her and leaned back against it, eyes closed, grinning like an idiot. He was an idiot. He slapped both cheeks lightly and tried to school his face into something respectable. It didn’t work. He was laughing to himself now, dizzy, mad, something like happiness bubbling under his skin- like he was just a boy with his first sweetheart.

Maker help him.

---

Lilya slipped through the crowd with ease, weaving past guests and waitstaff alike as a string quartet signalled the final call to be seated. She slid into her place beside Emmrich with a practised smile, smoothing out her gown to keep her hands occupied.

Across from her, Teia raised one perfectly groomed brow. Dearest brother Viago did not bother to look up at all. His jaw was locked, arms folded, staring into the distance with the brittle rage of a man who knew exactly where she’d been, what she’d been doing, and with whom.

A moment later, her clutch buzzed on the table.

Teia: Once the amuse-bouche hits, we’re going to the powder room. I expect EVERY sordid detail you can fit between the time I pee and the time I powder my nose. EVERYTHING.

Emmrich, who had clearly read the exchange over Teia’s shoulder, was already chuckling into his wine glass. Teia hadn’t even looked at her or her damn phone whilst typing it, which somehow made it worse.

The doors opened again, and Illario entered.

He was composed, of course he was. Effortlessly elegant. The rat bastard. No one in the room would notice the subtle swell of his chest as his eyes found hers, the way his smile curled just that little bit more at her. But she did. And when she bit her bottom lip, almost without meaning to, his expression darkened - not lasciviously, but like he’d felt what she was doing to her mouth on his. He shifted his weight across his shoulders as if steadying himself. The gesture was so slight no one would clock it if they weren’t watching him like a hawk. Which, of course, she was.

Viago let out a very soft, very displeased grumble, his brow ticking like he was already calculating what this next idiot move his little sister was going to cost him in time, money and new grey hairs. Lilya was about to say something biting across the table when Emmrich, astute as ever, cut the tension with a sigh of poetic timing.

“Ah,” he said wistfully, swirling his wine. “To be young and in love.”

“Maker, Professor, please don’t,” Lilya muttered into her napkin to hide her growing blush.

“Too late,” he added with a smirk. “We saw the look. He saw the look. You’re already very much spoken for, Ms de Riva.”

Viago made a noise under his breath that sounded eerily similar to ‘the hell she is’, or at the very least like the beginning of a long and painful lecture. Lilya knew she would pay for this later with one of her brother’s lessons about maintaining the dignity of their name, forcing her to remember all the training she endured about propriety and the expectations of her as a de Riva.

But it was worth it.

Her eyes flicked across the hall again, much to her brother’s obvious chagrin.

Illario was already speaking to the host, gesturing lightly and nodding along to their conversation. When he returned to his place, it was beside Lucanis, but the cousins switched seats wordlessly with a familiar efficiency of people who knew each other too well. And now he was angled just right, to be perfectly within her line of sight.

He winked.

Oh no. Oh. Fuck. This was going to be a long, wonderful night indeed… and Maker. She was so screwed.

---

Softly tagging: @rookamell @jenn2d2 @selennes @serstolas @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @obsessed-with-book-boyfriends @hedwigoprah @trash-nerd @gingervitus @thedissonantverses @hightowerqueen @the-sparrohawk @basedonconjecture @kabsey @mythals-whore and anyone else who wants to play (if you've already completed this and my forgetful butt tagged you, please just prod me to the direction of your work heheh- it's been one hell of a week!)

[cheriebear]

Tuck Your Innocence Goodnight (PART 1)

Can also be read on AO3 here.

Pairing: Ren Shiranami x gender-neutral reader Fandom: Tokyo Debunker Rating: Explicit (it's not too bad in this part but it will get worse) Tags: Romance (sorta), mystery, horror, some blood and gore. Word count: 5k A/N: this is my first longer form fanfic in a good long while. My skills are super rusty, and honestly, I'm not sure I write tkdb characters all that accurately but I gave it a go here. Hope you give it a chance and enjoy.

Chapter 1: Where Have You Buried All Your Children?

Most children display a common strategy when faced with something bad happening. They turn away, shut their eyes, cover their ears, and it is then that they believe the bad thing will cease to exist. If they cannot witness it, it is not happening. If you cannot see it, it cannot see you.

And if it cannot see you, it will not come to get you.

🧭

18:08 August 7, 2025

Shinjuku Station, Shinjuku/Shibuya

People cannot be out at dark anymore. Threat rules these streets in the nighttime. It can be heard in the whispers of people scuttling past. All the “hurry ups” and “it’s getting lates.” Some run without shame down the road, tripping over their own feet, yelling breathlessly at the speeding cars to “watch where you’re going!” and fetching up against the doorsteps of people they don’t know. Their fists pound on the doors and they beg to be let in.

“It’s getting dark, it’s getting dark!”

“Come inside,” the strangers say, hauling the doorknocker in and slamming the door shut. Then they lock the door.

One lock.

Two lock.

Three lock.

Four.

Some are walking as fast as their aching ankles will allow, breathing heavily, house keys in hand, and ready to throw themselves inside as soon as they spy their doorstep. They pretend they’re not afraid. They’ve got time. They won’t make fools of themselves even in the face of danger. Not when the streetlights are still bright.

It’s the same everywhere in Tokyo now. It’s the same every night. It’s the same for just about everyone. People cannot be out at dark.

But Ren Shiranami isn’t people.

And, these days, neither are you.

10:05 July 13, 2025

Darkwick Academy, Tokyo Bay

The sun burns blindingly hot over Jabberwock, but there’s a blessedly cool breeze that you race against as you sprint over the gentle hills. Your feet practically stomp into the earth on every rise and then fly with stomach-swooping speed on the declines. For a moment, you could just imagine what it was like to be Haru Sagara. Freedom from gravity.

And then you finally spot Ren Shiranami slumped against a fence post to an anomaly paddock and you trip.

You yelp and roll through the tall, dry grass before coming up on your feet again, miraculously using that accidental momentum to keep running, waving your hand eagerly in the air as you shout for Ren’s attention.

He’s tilted his phone down, squinting as you approach and come to a stop in front of him. Your hands plant themselves on your knees as you gasp for breath.

“Ren! Did you hear?”

“Hear what? Your clumsy fall?”

You grin. “You’re coming on the next inter-house mission. Apparently, Haru volunteered you for your, and I quote, ‘Aquatic know-how’, unquote. Haku’s leading this one and he saw no reason not to accept the recommendation, so, you’re in.”

Ren gapes at you. “What? No way I’m doing that. Who does that clown think he is? Volunteering me for missions… I have shifts at the diner this week and a paper due on Friday,” he grumbles, returning to whatever game he had been playing as he continues his tirade under his breath.

“I’m afraid it’s already been put down on the case file. You’re with us,” you say. You sit beside him on the grass, keeping a polite distance.

“Abuse of authority,” Ren mutters. His thumbs move rapidly across the screen before he tenses up, dropping his phone into his lap while trying to shake out his hand, cursing. “Of all times for my RSI to act up… I still have shit to do.”

“Here.” You reach for his hand, beginning to gently massage his rough palm with particular attention paid to the area around his thumb. He makes a funny noise before ripping his hand away.

“Wh— what the hell do you think you’re doing? That’s harassment, you know,” he says, avoiding your gaze.

You roll your eyes. “Trying to help. I’ll ask next time.”

“I’ll say no,” Ren grouches.

Brushing yourself off as you get to your feet, he remains sitting a little longer, absently brushing a thumb over the palm of his strained hand, frowning. “We’re meant to head out as soon as possible for this mission,” you say, “So we’re getting the full briefing at the train station at midday to leave today. Want to come with me?”

“Great. Two hours to kill.” He picks up his phone again. “Who else is on this mission anyway if it’s inter-house?”

“Well, it’s Haku’s mission, and I have to go along, and there’s you…” Coughing, you pause a moment before mumbling, “And Sho.”

“That burnout?!” Ren exclaims, suddenly launching to his feet. “No way, I’m not going. Get Sagara to join the mission if he wants someone from Jabberwock to go so bad. Don’t know why he’d even think about suggesting me for whatever aquatic stuff going on. Clown just likes making my life miserable.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned Sho until you managed to drag Ren to the station. You just made your job of retrieving him ten times harder. And you were probably the only one who was most likely to succeed at this compared to Haru or the Hotarubi vice-captain.

“What’s your problem with Sho anyway? He’s really nice when you get to know him,” you say, following Ren as he trudges along the fence line.

He scoffs. “Yeah. Really nice. You know that guy hardly ever turns up to class? Barely studies? He just coasts everything and it’s so damn annoying. I hate when people don’t have to try to—” Ren throws a glare over his shoulder. “I dunno why I’m even telling you. Just forget about it, none of your business what my problems are.”

He bends to collect a pail you didn’t even notice, never even breaking his stride as he pockets his phone.

You speed up your walk to round on him, getting in his way. Ren stops short with a wrinkle of his nose before he promptly steps to the side—but you’re prepared for that, stepping in time to block his path. So, he tries to step around you again, only to be met with resistance. His fingers twitch and a muscle in his jaw flexes.

“Move.”

“Are you scared of Sho?” you tease.

Ren recoils, looking utterly disgusted with the offensive accusation, mouth curving downward. “Ugh, like hell I’d be scared of some burnout. Why do you ask? Are you scared of him?”

It surprises you, the strange glint of suspicion in his eyes. There’s a hint of something else there, but you can’t quite figure out what it is.

“Of course not. Sho’s my friend.” You rest a hand on your hip. “Look, this mission is in Koto City. There’s been missing persons around the marina and shorefronts. Haru said you handle most of the anomalous animals in the aquatic zone. You’d know best how to deal with whatever’s going on. The rest of us are in the dark.” You tilt your head, peering up at Ren with your best puppy eyes. “You’ve done a mission like this before. You probably won’t even have to get into the water this time. And I’d feel a lot better if you were there.”

For a long moment, Ren and you are caught in a standoff. It wouldn’t surprise you if a tumbleweed suddenly rolled on by while a Western-themed whistle echoes over the summer dried fields. When his lips press together and he squints, you theatrically mimic the expression. And there—just for a second, there’s a ghost of a smirk.

“Fine. But you’re helping me with the rest of my chores for the next two hours,” he says, thrusting the pail out to you, which you catch against your chest with a sigh.

“Okay then. Can’t be too hard if we work together. Where to first?”

You go around the park together, following the winding dirt roads before finishing up in the aquatic zone. Ren’s shoulders are unbearably tense as he tosses fish and other bits of mystery meat into the pools of the luminous caves. Whenever you lean a little too close to stare down at the depths to catch glimpses of anomalies, you’re met with sharp warnings of, “Get any closer and you’ll fall in, dumbass. I can’t even swim to get you out if you do. And if you die…” This is when Ren waves metal tongs at you. “I’ll never hear the end of it from that clown or any of your other friends. And I’d rather not have to deal with that shit.”

You hold the bucket of meat out to him to pick up another piece with the tongs and toss it with a plop into a writhing pool of eel-looking anomalies.

Later, when you’re waiting at the train station with a cup of instant noodles in your grasp, you stare hard at it. “…I think these noodles are moving. Look, Ren, see?”

“Yeah, bet there’s some creepy parasite in there that’s gonna take you over from the inside until you turn into one too,” he says, not even looking as he plays some sort of game event beside you on the bench.

“That’s not funny,” you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck.

His gaze flicks up to you briefly. Ren doesn’t say anything, but there’s an almost regretful curve at the edge of his mouth. He sighs heavily. A moment later, you sigh too and then let your chopsticks dive into the cup to probe around for anything that shouldn’t be in there before you start eating.

Honestly, you’re surprised that you and Ren got here before the others. Haku eventually strolls onto the platform, hands in his pockets and a case file tucked under one arm. His smile is easy as he gives you a wave, coming over to stand before you.

“Your Highness,” he greets you, “Eating as lavishly as an emperor, I see.”

You raise your noodle cup to the vice-captain. “Don’t knock it until you try it. Ren introduced me to these ones,” you say, elbowing the ghoul next to you.

“Hey, what the hell? This is harassment. I should sic the lawyer on you at this point. It’s every damn day with you…”

“Guy’s got good taste,” you continue, ignoring him with a sly smile.

Haku’s responding smile is amused as he looks at you, sparing Ren only a single glance. “Wait until you’ve had a taste of m—”

The rest of his sentence is drowned out by the thunderous rumble of a motorbike, drawing closer before abruptly going silent. A moment later, Sho appears on the platform, fixing his bandana. He doesn’t look too pleased to be there but cracks a grin when he sees you.

“Hey, Senpai.”

“Hey, Sho! Looks like we’re all here now.”

Together, we all board the Galaxy Express. I sit directly next to Ren, who moves away one more seat, only for Sho to take his previous spot next to me, and Haku gets himself seated on my other side as he flips open the case file in his lap.

“Police in Koto have had a significant surge in missing persons cases reported over the past month. The academy seems to suspect an anomaly on the loose. Most bodies of missing persons that are eventually found all share the same signs of bloating and aquatic decay,” Haku explains, eyes skimming down the document as you lean over to peer at the grotesque photographs provided.

Your nose wrinkles at the sight, but you fight not to immediately look away. You’ve seen just as horrible things before since meeting your first anomaly, the Kyklos, and it wouldn’t do to look so weak that you’d hold back the mission after almost a year in Darkwick.

There is marbling of the swollen and discolored skin but also bumps of insect larvae starting to nest in the dead flesh of the bodies. Your lips pull deeper in disgust the longer you look at the pictures. You can also see some of the skin beginning to slough off the bulbous, water-logged corpses.

The noodles stir uncomfortably in your stomach, and you finally tear your gaze away to sit back, just as Haku noticed you had been observing over his arm. The folder falls shut.

“You all right there, Your Highness?” he asks, sounding somehow both serious and light at the same time.

“Oh, yes.” You smile tightly. “I’m fine. So, where do we start?”

There is a chime from the express as an announcement blares.

12:12 July 13, 2025

Wakasu Seaside Park, Kōtō

A departing cruise ship gives one prolonged blast as it slowly leaves the harbor. Ren traces its inching trail on the sparkling horizon as it goes from the channel out to Tokyo Bay. Far in the distance are veritable fields of shipping containers on the other islands and then Tokyo International Airport as a blur on the mainland where blinking planes periodically take off and land. The hum of voices draws Ren’s attention back to the Wakasu shoreline, where you and Haku are chatting to a group of fishermen.

Ugh… Ren’s skin seems to itch from the inside. As if hanging out by the water wasn’t bad enough, they had to go and question the fishing traders and hobbyists too.

His eyes flick to the opposite end of Tokyo Bay once more.

“You ever go fishing or is that not allowed in Jabberwock?” Sho suddenly asks beside him.

Ren tenses up, hands in the air as he makes a face at Sho. “When did you—?!” He relaxes and steps away, grumbling, “Learn boundaries, dude.”

The Vagastrom student only cracks a smug grin. “So, no fishing in Jabberwock?”

“No.”

“I fish sometimes, by the common river that runs through the academy. You’d be surprised how much you can catch there on a good day.”

…Was this idiot seriously trying to make conversation while they waited for the other two?

Ren resolutely remains silent, hoping to discourage Sho.

“Leo sent me some true crime video a while back,” Sho continues, not heeding the other ghoul’s social rejection as he surveys the rocky shoreline and surrounding park. “Y’know, apparently, there was some infamous murder here in the nineteen eighties or something where a bunch of teenagers hid the body of a high school girl they tortured and killed in a metal drum covered in concrete. Not sure how they managed that, but the story still gives me the freakin’ creeps.”

This is the part in the movie where the audience learns about some typical old murder case that conveniently comes back to haunt the current characters even if they were totally uninvolved just because they were lingering around a killer’s stomping grounds. Great. The burnout was delivering exposition.

Who did that make Ren if he was the one who heard it? He should have just stayed in his dorm.

“Yeah… okay,” he mumbles.

“Sho, Ren!” You call over with a concerningly enthusiastic wave considering the case. “We’ve got a lead on a guy who can tell us where he found one of the weirder bodies!”

Ren sighs heavily and glances sideways at Sho, only to internally recoil finding the other guy looking at him at the same time, like they were damn buddies sharing in the moment or something. He hastily redirects his attention back to you as you and Haku wander over and waits to fall into step behind you as you lead the way.

“We should have brought my bike,” Sho says, hands folded behind his head as they walk. “Just saying. The bay’s too much area to keep pacing around.”

“We can’t all fit on one bike,” Haku reminds him as they hail a taxi. “Port of Tokyo, please, to the ferry terminal.”

Once again, Ren winds up squished in next to Sho with you on his other side while Haku sits in the front with the driver. He makes no effort to disguise his glare in the rearview mirror as the taxi seems to stop at every red light and crawl behind traffic. Even Sho seems antsy beside him, leg closest to the door bouncing a restless rhythm that only worsens Ren’s mood.

At least there’s a little less talk with this group compared to Sagara’s constant yelling and chatter.

“Hey, Senpai, what are you listening to?”

…Spoke too soon.

You perk up at Ren’s side, practically leaning across him as you show Sho your phone, lowering your headphones. “Somebody’s Watching Me by Rockwell at the moment, I was just about to skip it. Western music can be a hit or miss sometimes, but I put some good ones I like on a playlist. This one’s kind of getting old though.”

“A playlist, huh?” Sho leans in too, and Ren feels his eye twitch.

“Yeah! Do you want me to send it to you?”

“Honestly, I’m more used to club music, but I could give it a listen. Do you think Highway to Home could use some music for ambience?”

“Maybe I could help you come up with one to try out? I promise no Western music.”

“Sure, that’d be a nice help.”

Ren was going to lose his mind if he had to endure this for the rest of the drive. “You know being in people’s personal space is harassment?” he snaps.

You roll your eyes as you sit back again and Sho just turns to the window. Finally, Ren could breathe again. Slightly. You were still pressed up against his side. You’d drawn your headphones back on again and Ren catches sight of you scrolling through documentary podcasts. He should remember to send you a few he liked listening to that you might be curious about.

Your phone tilts and for a moment the sunlight glares bright across the screen.

About twenty minutes later, Ren looks at the blinding shine of a metal door handle to a warehouse by the harbor as a ferryman reaches for it. He doesn’t even flinch when he grabs hold of it and hauls the massive doors open to lead the group inside.

The smell hits first. Ren covers his nose and mouth swiftly, barely holding back a gag at the heavy scent of rotting flesh and fish.

“This is where I found the body before the police came to take it in,” the ferryman says, indicating a cordoned off area. “You lot private eyes or something?”

“Yeah,” says Haku, crouching down to inspect the markings on the concrete floor. “Something like that. Could you please give us a minute to examine the scene?”

When the ferryman walks away, Haku’s polite smile drops and the suddenness in the action sends a prickle over Ren’s skin. You and the ghouls all gather around what looks to be a rough circle of chalk and ash markings, in addition to scorch marks. Littered between them are the long melted and dried pools of wax that might have once been candles as well as old wreaths of flowers wilted and emitting a sweetly rotten stench. So why can Ren still smell fish and decay stronger here by the circle when there’s nothing else in sight?

“This looks like someone attempted necromancy. Very unsuccessfully. They must be new to this if they were using chalk,” Haku says quietly, his gold eyes almost lamp-like in the dimness of the warehouse.

“Kinda looks like some kids watched a show about demons and tried to summon something using gimmicks they learned from it.” Sho crosses his arms and tilts his head, nose wrinkled. “And what is that smell?”

“Wait,” You pipe up, pointing, “What is that?”

They all look at what Ren had first thought was just rust markings from old metal and machinery on the concrete, but now upon closer inspection look like… footprints. Bloodied ones at that, and small, like a child’s, but brown with age. These aren’t fresh. Ren shakes his head and raises his hands.

“Uh, no. I’m not following that— hey!”

You and the other two ghouls walk on without him, following the trail to another door in the warehouse. Reluctantly, Ren follows, fists buried deep in his pockets as he scowls disapprovingly. No one seems to be deterred by his attitude though as they find the door unlocked and step into what appears to be an office. Ren waits outside. Only for your figure to suddenly whoosh past him as you run back toward the large doors they all entered.

“Where are you going?” He doesn’t see Haku or the burnout following, so Ren decides he should before you trip and faceplant again. Maybe if he caught it on video this time it could make for a funny edit.

He finds you outside the warehouse by a window, casting about on the ground for something. Just as Ren’s about to ask, you stride past him and toward the water. He realizes you’re following more footprints, fainter, but they stop at the drop-off before the water’s edge.

“Damn.” Ren peers over at the lapping waves, nausea curling around his stomach like an eel. “Were any of the bodies found a kid?”

Your lips are drawn in a serious pout. “No.”

“Maybe… they couldn’t swim,” he says cautiously, backing away from the edge.

“And the kid just dived into the water while injured?”

Ren shrugs, goosebumps rising over his skin as he turns to look back at the warehouse where Haku and Sho appear again. He resolutely does not let his attention wander to the water again. No matter how piercing the feeling at the back his neck gets, like some kid’s watching him from the bay with dead eyes.

Summer, 2012

Shōnan, Kanagawa

Ren’s eyes feel dead with how long he’s been staring out the car window on the drive from Ine to Shōnan, squished in the backseat between pillows, suitcases, his little brother, and loose pots that he keeps nearly hitting his head against whenever time they make a turn. Every farm they rolled through started to look the same by the time he finished watching his first movie of the trip on the family’s portable DVD player.

Ren’s eyes feel dead as soon as he’s woken at six in the morning with boxes still packed in the cramped kitchen of their new flat to go out on the little fishing boat they brought along on the trailer.

His eyes feel dead as he stares listlessly at the morning fog over the ocean while sitting on the pier beside his father. Even despite the mist, Ren can tell the beaches here are pristine, almost eerie in their perfection. The palm trees loom tall over them from behind. He thinks he sees the vague shape of a mountain on the horizon.

There’s a tug on his father’s line beside him. It comes again, much more insistent, and so his father reels it in, the rod bending to the weight.

Ren doesn’t catch a good glimpse of it when the thing rises from the water, but he watches his father frown when he grasps it. The thing is delicately unhooked and tossed back into the water with a splash that ripples and sends up drops of seawater that tickle Ren’s little legs where they hang over the edge.

18:09 July 13, 2025

Darkwick Academy, Tokyo Bay

Your spoon splashes through the surface of your miso soup as you kick your legs at the park table outside Highway to Home. The case file sits open by your elbow with the added information you and the ghouls found today. Haku lazily stirs a straw in his drink, soup already drained from the bowl, his phone in his other hand.

“Some of the symbols around the main circle seem to be the same as the logo of a cult that’s been cropping up in Tokyo. From what I can find in online forums, they seem to do most of their recruitment and information trades at a nightclub in Shibuya,” he explains, nonchalant face illuminated by the glow of his screen.

“So you want us to go to this nightclub next and… what? Snoop around this cult?” Ren asks, arms crossed. He had declined having any food.

As Sho steps down from his truck and wanders over, his own bowl in hand, he rubs the back of his neck. “Is now a good time to mention I got myself banned from pretty much all clubs in Tokyo?”

“I’m sure we can find a way in.” Haku waves the concern away. “No sign of any notable anomalies yet. This might really just be a case of humans misbehaving.”

Your legs fall to a standstill, spoon coming to rest on the rim of your bowl. “…There was no mention of kids involved in this case. What do you make of what we found today? I mean, the trail wasn’t so obvious that the police included it in their own reports. Is it possible it was just… an animal? Or an anomaly that killed the man found at that site?”

“It’s difficult to say just yet,” Haku admits, “But we can’t exactly go trawling through the bay for anomalies. We’d pick up way too much stuff. Plus, there’s heaps of water traffic in the harbor. If any anomaly was there, it wouldn’t stay long, and we wouldn’t be able to search anyway.”

“At least if we find the cult, we might find some more clues about what they’ve been doing. They could be behind the murders and be dumping bodies in the harbor,” says Sho, swallowing a spoonful of soup.

“A lot of restless spirits around the harbor.” Haku sighs. You wonder why you hadn’t thought about asking earlier what he might have seen in terms of ghosts, but by the far-off gaze he has now, you figure it might be best not to ask yet.

An aching pain blooms over your back, and you slip a hand under the collar of your shirt to gently try massaging away the pain. You knew without having to look that it was the spreading flowers on your skin. It’s usually fine during the day, but the pain seems to come with exhaustion by the time night hits.

Ren pulls out his phone, the motion catching your attention. He stares intently at his screen before he gets up from the table. “Bye,” is all he says before he’s walking off.

You hastily gulp down the rest of your soup and profusely thank Sho for dinner before collecting your things and running off after Ren down the campus pathways. The others don’t bother calling after you. Haku already made a group chat for the mission named The Ruler & Subjects.

You really wish he’d stop calling you things like that. It was slightly embarrassing.

“Ren! Hey, Ren! Wait up!” you call out.

He doesn’t slow at all even as you both take the hidden turn toward the dirt road heading toward Jabberwock. You fall into step beside him, practically bouncing on your feet.

“How are you, Ren?” you ask.

He throws you a blank look. “…fine? I guess?” There’s a pause before he adds, “Why’re you asking…?”

You hesitate only for a second before saying, “Well, you don’t like water much and we’ve had to go all over the bay today. I just thought I’d check in.”

Ren blinks at you in surprise. It’s not long before the expression is traded for a scowl. “None of your business. And I want my noodles so don’t think I’m walking you back to the cathedral just ‘cause you followed me here. I’m too hungry to deal with you right now.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You could have had something at Sho’s.”

“I’m not eating that burnout’s crap,” he grumbles.

Your footsteps crunching on the dirt come to a stop as Ren walks on ahead. He doesn’t even falter, too busy gazing at his phone even as he pushes open the gate and kicks it shut behind him.

“‘Night,” you say quietly to the air.

Ren definitely had seemed agitated during and after the mission today. Undoubtedly, he’d try to find some excuse to drop out tomorrow so he wouldn’t have to continue. So, you couldn’t blame him for being so irritable.

Except that this kept happening. The good moments with Ren always made your entire day, sometimes your whole week. But they were so rare, and he still seemed to treat you much the same as always overall. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d reconsidered trying to get close with Ren. And now he was disparaging Sho. It was so unnecessary. Usually, Ren didn’t even offer out insults, but he really didn’t seem to like Sho. As far as you know, the two have barely interacted before this mission, so it didn’t make much sense.

With a sigh, you walk back to the cathedral, alone.

Later that night, you sit at your desk by the window, a candle burning as you look over your own notes on the case. Your hand reaches for your back again with a pained grimace. Maybe it was time to get some rest before the mission resumed tomorrow.

Instead of going to bed though, you spend a little longer staring at the bright, steady flame of your candle, lost in thought.

At the same time, across the bay, a young man stares up at the glow of a lighthouse as he walks on by. The night air is balmy with a gently cool air periodically caressing his skin. The sound of waves lapping against boats in the marina is soothing.

There’s an uneven clip of pursuing footsteps. The man glances over his shoulder and slightly speeds up his step at the sight of another figure behind him in the otherwise deserted area.

The figure speeds up too.

Making a split-second decision, the man decides to run, breathing the humid air in gasps while his pounding footsteps echo across wooden paneling, and he looks back only once to check his pursuers progress, which winds up being his second mistake of the night.

Pain cracks across his head and he falls to the rough wood. The last thing he sees is the glint of city lights on the ink-dark waves of the water below, and the blink of the lighthouse as hands grab him.

He could swear, somewhere on the horizon, a foghorn sounds.

[katseyeronic]

Sides

Gn!reader x Sophia + Manon

summary: It is set in stone since you two were young that you and Sophia will always be on each other's side no matter the circumstances but maybe just this once, you might not be.

tags: fluff, angst, Chilhood lovers! Sophia and you, Established relationship between you and Manon, Use of profanity, reader look was pissing me off but we ball... Taylor swift reference iykyk :)

a/n: I'm doing the evil villain fingers right now. I literally listened to all too well to write Sophia"s parts. IM SUPPOSED TO BE STUDYING FOR FINALS. no one saw how I accidentally posted it earlier on. ( I dont know who is endgame help.)

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

Since the two of you met, there was always this unspoken rule. Remain loyal no matter what. That doesn't matter if it meant choosing partners during projects or even having to pick Sophia up from work even if you were on a perfectly good date with a girl from school. Sophia definitely didn't do that on purpose.

Besides all that, the both of you stuck with each other throughout your whole lives. You hadn't started breathing until you met her and Sophia hadn't truly lived until she had met you. In a way, it was as if destiny had snuck its way between you two.

But nothing comes without a price, especially something too perfect, delicate and calming like the dynamic between Sophia and you.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

The news that Sophia would be attending Dream Academy was no shock to anyone, and it definitely didn't come as a shock to you. You were always supportive and on your girlfriend's side no matter what. Even now while she's breaking up with you, you nod understandably. You shouldn't be holding her back anyways.

She smiled promising to keep in contact with you while she rambled about how it would be good for her to pursue her dreams. She didn't even look upset that she had just broken up with you seconds ago and you? you kept that same smile listening as she talked.

Sophia hugged you that day and your smile finally cracked but you didn't cry because after all, it was better to have her as a friend than nothing at all besides she promised to keep in contact, right?

Wrong.

The calls became a constant thing to waiting up till the sun rises just for an apology text from her until there was no apology at all. Her name, once said softly, now was said with a bitter tongue. Someone brings up how Sophia debuted? You're out the door in seconds. You don't want to know how she's doing nor did you want to know who she debuted with.

Her name and the memories she left behind alongside you became a wound too deep to ever close. When you watched the doors at night after your small birthday party that the Laforteza's and your family hosted, just having that small hope that she would turn up with her hair a mess, panting and looking at you with that sheepish smile saying "Happy birthday!" with a small ruined cupcake, her dad stood next to you placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It's supposed to be fun turning 21." He muttered offering a small smile, he had watched as your eyes flickered to the door awaiting his daughter company yet it never came and he saw the light in you dim every second. You might run anytime someone brings Sophia up but that small hope of her coming back always stayed with you.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

When you met Manon Bannerman the first week of your job after moving to LA for a refresh of life, you didn't expect her to be in a global rising girl group nor did you expect for her to stay in your mind alongside her coffee order.

You had ran from love and relationships your whole life after Sophia but you know what they say, outrun love and it'll chase you like it knows something you don't and love came in the form of Manon.

She was no quitter, you were cute and you barely knew who she was so thats a plus. you saw her for her. a rare thing nowadays it seems for her. When you two started dating after multiple attempts of you pushing her away, she had told you to not search anything up before you meet her bandmates. First impressions were important and she didn't want yours being because of social media which you had complied with understandably.

When you met Manon Bannerman, you didn't expect her to be in a girl group with your ex best friend and girlfriend AKA Sophia Laforteza which led you to the predicament right now, your jaw agape and your hand forward to shake Sophia's who froze.

"Do you two know each other?' Manon asked confused as you stared speechless as the other girls raised a brow realising the tension. "Yeah, Sophia, you're staring like you'd seen a ghost." Lara joked. Perhaps she has. She'd seen the ghost of her past life and the memories she placed away, far from what she wanted in her future. This wasn't supposed to be something she had in her future, she wasn't supposed to see you this early into her career when it was just starting out.

Sophia composed herself shaking your hand firmly, "They helped me with the groceries at the mart once and we had a small conversation about living in LA." Sophia lied smoothly and your smile faltered. She's pretending to not know you? "I'm Sophia! Manon talks about you a lot."

You hummed and let go of her hand like it burned you as you went back to Manon's side and everyone fell into a conversation. Somehow believing Sophia's lie. You could almost scoff at the slight glance Sophia gave you. How dare she erase years of history? She lied with the same lips that had been on yours years ago. The same lips that lied about staying in contact. Sophia must be a damn good liar then if everyone kept believing her carefully illustrated lies.

"You okay?" Manon murmured softly careful to not let anyone hear. She knew how much you hated having people attention fall onto you. She knew you before you even knew yourself. You forced a small smile and she knew it was fake yet knew better to pester so she held your hand and squeezed it every few seconds as a reminder that she isn't leaving.

Sophia stared at you, and when you looked this time, she didn't look away. Instead her brows were furrowed like she was trying to figure you out, like she knew you were lying about being fine.

"I'm going to take some fresh air." You whispered to Manon who looked at you unsure.

"Do you want me there or do you want space from everyone?" Manon asked and you knew both answers wouldn't hurt her. That's the thing you adored about Manon. She knew if you needed space, it meant from everyone including her and it wasn't with malicious intent unlike Sophia who used to be hurt when you needed space from her too.

"I'm okay. I'll be back, just leave a space here for me, yeah?"

"Always.” Manon said like it was crazy for you to even ask. Of course she'll leave a space for you, she always has since the day you met and you've done the same.

You let out a breath of relief when you went out, finally some alone time. Or so you thought. "You aren't okay." A voice you recognised so well but not the person with it. "Why'd you lie?"

“Why did you?” You retorted annoyed. You seem to be questioning a lot of things every time you’re even around Sophia Laforteza. She clicked her teeth. Touché.

"For you." Sophia said and if it wasn't for that small frown on her lips, you wouldn't have taken that answer. God, why were you still talking to her?

"She'll find out." You whispered shaking your head disapproving the lie. "I won't lie to my girlfriend, Sophia."

"Do it for me." Sophia whispered back holding your hands and you flinched for a second before you relaxed as if your hands had found its way back home once again. "Do it for the version of me that you still have in your memory."

You hesitated, this was Sophia and you were always on her side but was she ever on yours?

"Fine but if this backfires, thats on you."

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

The next few weeks were confusing to say the least, you avoided Sophia as much as you could avoid your girlfriend's leader but there were subtle changes in your mood. You ate less, you smiled less as if the guilt of not telling your girlfriend was eating you alive and Manon? She was more worried than ever for you, constantly ranting to the girls about it and how weird you always were nowadays around her.

"Okay so i bought two meals, i had said one to the cashier but i guess she heard two and you know how much i hate wasting food so could you finish this?" Manon smiled sheepishly as she got into the car passing you the paper bag full of food.

The story didn't make sense at all but who were you to judge so you sighed nodding your head as you drove to an abandoned car park to eat with her.

As you took the first bite, you saw from your peripheral vision that small accomplished smile on Manon's face as she looked at you. God knows what you accomplished but you weren't going to question it.

You hadn't realised how much you needed a proper meal until you and Manon ate and talked about the plans. "Thank you." you gave her a small kiss on her lips to which she grinned with a loving gaze all directed to you.

"You know i'd do anything for you." Manon whispered looking at you. Of course she knew you weren't okay but she also knew how much you valued space and if it was important to you, it's important to her. "I'll be here the second you're ready to talk about what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong." You lied quickly jumping to your own defence and you knew that Manon knew you were lying with that small look in her eyes that told you everything. The eyes that made you fall for her hard and she became the only exception to everything you had shut off after Sophia.

"Okay." Manon said half-heartedly. She didn't believe the answer but she won't rush you but rather give you the space to figure it out on your own and if you can't, she's there too. "I love you." Manon said as if it was as simple as breathing and you froze.

She. Loves. You.

"I don't expect you to say it. It wouldn't have said it if i needed to hear it in return but i won’t lie and say i dont have hope that one day you'll be ready to say it and mean it." Manon confessed looking at you who looked like you were ready to run from your own car. "I know you're scared, possibly because of what you told me happened with the girl from your past."

You were ready to speak up and tell her who it was when Sophia's words rung out in your brain. Do it for that version of me. And the next words Manon spoke stopped you from telling her the whole story even more. "I'm not her, l'll never be her because I love you more than enough to stay and I would never let us become what you two were, I promise." Manon said desperately hoping you don't run. You sigh shakily, the word stuck in your throat.

God, why couldn't you just say it back? You knew you wanted to. Perhaps it was the guilt that you haven't been fully honest or perhaps it scared you to death that the girl you were once in love with is best friends with the girl you're in love with right now, if you even knew what love felt like anymore.

You kiss her softly but surely, apologising in the kiss, pouring everything out but never actually getting the words out and Manon took it, she took everything you gave her because she is not backing out after finally having you.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

When you reached home after dropping Manon off, what awaited you was Sophia in your house, cooking. "What the fuck?" You scoff as she made it to be her house.

"You still hide keys below your doormat. Not a wise idea in this city." Sophia pointed out as she cooked and you smelt it. Sinigang. Home.

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here in my house cooking."

"Making sure your idiotic ass eats. Manon keeps worrying about how you haven't eaten a proper meal in days." Sophia snapped at you, "So I won't take no as an answer. Sit down and eat." You were about to argue that you had just eaten a whole meal with Manon but she looked at you sternly and no one won an argument against Sophia and lived to tell the tale.

You grumbled sitting down as she passed you a bowl. "I wont lie and say i wasn't worried too." Sophia muttered sitting down across from you as you complied with eating, it wasn't because you were still hungry, it was more to shut her up and get her out of the house because you couldn't think around her.

"You have no right to be." You spat, barely glancing at her as you ate and that had landed harder than the day she chose to walk away from everything you two had because this wasn't heartbreak. She could deal with heartbreak.

This was resentment, built up resentment and she felt every ounce of it. Resentment that used to never be directed at her and she stayed silent, letting the tension settle. Not because she disagreed, no. It was because deep down, you were right.

She had no right to be in your life anymore, no right to take care of you, she had no right to be jealous or seethe at the sight of Manon smiling because she knows that smile was because of you.

She had no right missing how she had that smile back then too and how she hasn’t smiled like that since she left you.

"You act like I wasn't hurting too. You cant dictate the past. You don't get to rewrite history and cast me as the villain." She snapped narrowing her eyes at you and you paused looking at her. "You act like this child who lost everything but i lost something too!"

You got up from the chair that scraped harshly against the floor but the blazing anger in your eyes was directed solely to her as she stood up too. "You lost something?" You laughed bitterly as if the thought was absurd to you. "You got your dreams and the spotlight shining on you! You walked away perfect without a scratch and I was your collateral damage." You spat. "So fucking tell me what you lost?"

"I lost the person I was madly in love with, you idiot! The person i'm still in love with." Her eyes glassy as her voice trembles. You froze. "You think I didn't die a little bit inside every single day realising I couldn't tell you about my day anymore? I had let you go and I lost myself in return." Sophia whispered with tears flowing freely now. "It's fucking karma and I hate it because we were always on each other's sides." You froze not knowing what to say. She has confessed to still being in love with you.

"So it was her." You wince knowing who that voice belonged to. The shock in your chest turned into pure dread as you stared at your girlfriend who held your door key on one hand, a key you had made just for her and your AirPods on her other hand. Something you had asked her to hold on to as you were eating and forgotten to grab back when you dropped her off. "God, here i thought Sophia and you were probably just awkward meeting a new person in my life!"

"The girl from your past just so happens to be in the same group as me and both of you didn't even think that was worth me knowing?" She scoffed, betrayal etched on her face. You wanted to explain but nothing came out. "How could you? You could have told me today! Or maybe before i even confessed that I was in love with you!" Sophia's gaze snapped up looking at the both of you.

Manon was in love with you too? She confessed on the same day?

What were you supposed to say? That you love her but you loved Sophia too? That Sophia had just confessed and you hesitated to even shut it down? Or that Sophia wasn't supposed to mean anything anymore? That Sophia being in her girl group wasn’t supposed to mean anything anymore but it did?

You couldn't meet anyone's gaze. Your past and your present had just collided and unfortunately for you, you will be deciding on your future.

"You have to choose." Manon said breaking the tension and both you and Sophia's eyes snapped to her. "I can fight for you, I always have fought for you so l won't let this go easily but if you choose her, I won't fight for someone who's already gone so please, do not make me an idiot who just confessed to loving you, please tell me you're still mine and choose me." Manon gaze met yours, still holding onto the key and AirPods like it was the last time she would hold it.

Pieces of you that she was grabbing onto. Pieces of you that might just slip out in any second. "I don't deserve anything from you, I know that but did mean it when I said i never stopped loving you and if even a part of you is still mine, I will fight for that part so l am begging you. We were always on each other's side. You were always on my side. Pick it one last time and I'll change. I've changed." Sophia whispers gripping onto your counter. The closest she's been to you in ages and she wont let you walk away. Not when you were always on each other's sides and as much as she loves Manon like a sister, she won’t let her happiness slip away again. Not when she knows she can’t do it without you now.

For the first time in your life, you were hesitating. Hesitating on choosing Sophia's side and that shattered her because when have you ever hesitated in choosing her side? but this time was different. You were hesitating on everything. They were making you choose your future and right now? Everything that leads up to it will destroy everything. The choice wasn't just about love and whilst Sophia was the one to walk away back then, you realise now, you had to walk away from one of them and cause that heartbreak and resentment that Sophia had caused you.

Choose Sophia's side like you always have? Stay in the comfortable zone or Choose Manon's side and risk everything comfortable to you. The two people who knew you best but have different approaches. The girl from your past or the girl from your present? The storm or the sun?

Someone dig a hole and lay you in your grave because you were so fucked. Time was ticking.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

a/n: sooo another author note, I lowkey have no idea who might be endgame or if I should even make a part 2 but anyways yes! I'm super proud of this but I didn't proofread it so yikes apologies guys :)