#this is the most personal thing i've ever written i am Afraid

[barnacles34]

Mutually Assured Destruction

Chaewon x Male Reader

Tags: Angst, Smut

9k words

The world is, simply put, against you.

You love Chaewon.

But you can't tell her. Not yet.

New York. Day twenty-one. The hotel hallway stretches before you, each step toward her room heavier than the last.

Your tie feels too tight, your collar suffocating—the uniform of an executive becoming the noose of a condemned man.

Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of seeing her across rooms, of catching her scent in empty elevators, of watching her perform while pretending she was nothing more than a company asset.

Three weeks of dying slowly.

You knock. The sound echoes in the empty corridor. One heartbeat. Two. The door opens.

Chaewon stands there, barefoot, in simple shorts and an oversized t-shirt. No makeup. No stage presence. Just her.

The most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

‘You came,’ she whispers, like she still can't believe it.

You step inside, the door closing behind you with a soft click. The sound of the outside world being shut away.

For a moment, neither of you moves. Three feet of carpet between you might as well be an ocean.

Then she breaks, a dam of tears giving way after holding back too long. She crosses the distance, collides with you, arms wrapping around your waist, face buried in your chest.

‘I haven't seen you for 3 weeks,’ she mumbles against your jacket, her voice cracking, fighting tears that are already falling.

You want to speak, but your throat closes. Her name forms in your mind—a prayer, a plea.

Chaewon.

Her fingers clutch at your jacket, desperate, like you might disappear if she loosens her grip.

‘I am so unhappy,’ she whispers, the words muffled against the fabric.

Your hand moves of its own accord, finding the back of her head, cradling it gently. Her hair is soft between your fingers, just as you'd dreamed during those endless nights alone.

Chaewon!

‘I am so stupid,’ she continues, her whole body trembling. ‘Dear, I cannot live without you. You know this.’

She pulls back just enough to look up at you, her face tear-streaked, eyes red-rimmed and vulnerable. She's so close now, her cheek just an inch from yours, her breath warm against your skin.

You dare not look directly at her—afraid that if you do, all your carefully constructed walls will crumble.

Instead, your gaze falls to her shoulder, exposed where the sweater has slipped. Her skin is like milk, almost translucent in the soft hotel light, with that hint of pink beneath that makes her seem both fragile and impossibly alive.

Oh, you want her so badly.

The weight of the past bears down on you. When you were younger, life felt limitless—an odyssey of possibility stretching endlessly before you.

But youth is a loan that must be repaid. Each choice carries consequences. Each victory seemingly increasing the magnitude of future defeat.

How strange to realize you can barely remember the person you were before all this. Before her.

It's as if you've been playing a role for so long—the ambitious executive, the company man—that you've forgotten who you really are.

Her hands move to your face, fingertips gentle against your jaw, tilting your gaze to meet hers.

‘Look at me,’ she whispers. ‘Please.’

You do, and it undoes you. The nakedness of her emotion. The love written so plainly across her features.

‘I love you,’ she says, the words hanging in the air between you. ‘I've always loved you.’

Everything in you wants to say it back. To cross that final line.

To throw away everything—your career, your reputation, your carefully constructed life—just to hold her without fear.

But you can't. Not because you don't love her, but because loving her means protecting her. And right now, loving her means waiting.

‘Not yet,’ you whisper, the words catching in your throat as you brush away a tear from her cheek with your thumb. ‘Not yet.’

The pain in her eyes is unbearable. But there's understanding there too, buried beneath the hurt.

She leans forward, resting her forehead against your chest.

‘How much longer?’ she asks, her voice small.

You have no answer. Only the weight of what stands between you—the company, the threats, the world that has decided your love is forbidden.

Your mouth feels clamped shut, your vocal cords frozen, your eyes burning with tears you refuse to shed.

In the end, you say nothing more.

You hold her for one more moment, committing to memory the weight of her in your arms, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body against yours.

Then you let go. Turn away. Walk to the door.

And leave.

—

Chaewon's Diary - May 15, 2025

I cannot remember feeling this way before. The emotions are too new, too raw to categorize.

Rejection should feel bitter. Should taste like failure. Instead, it tasted like promise.

I stood before him, heart exposed, only to hear those two impossible words: ‘Not yet.’

Not never. Not no. Not goodbye.

Not yet.

I should have been humiliated. Should have been angry. Instead, when he brushed the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs, I felt known. Truly seen, perhaps for the first time.

When he uttered

‘Not yet’

I felt warm. Happy.

How am I so happy for rejection?

I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch, memorizing the feeling of his hands on my face, his breath mingling with mine.

Before him, I had never felt the touch of someone who could see past my surface, past the idol, past the carefully crafted image.

I want him.

I know with absolute certainty: No other man will touch my heart for as long as I live.

I will wait, forever and longer.

Not yet.

—

3 Weeks Ago - April 25, 2025

You were staring at a spreadsheet when Chaewon walked in without knocking.

'Hey,' she said.

You kept typing. 'Hey.'

She stood there for a second too long before sitting down across from you. Put her coffee on your desk. The ice shifted.

'So.'

'So,' you echoed, still not looking up.

'You eat yet?'

'What?'

'Food. Have you had any?'

You glanced at your watch. It was almost 8. 'No.'

'Me neither,' she said. 'We should fix that.'

You finally looked at her. She was wearing the same clothes from the morning meeting, but her makeup had that slightly smudged quality of someone who'd been awake too long.

'I've got to finish this,' you said.

'No you don't.'

'I do, actually.'

She sighed. 'Will the company collapse if you don't do it right this second?'

'That's not the point.'

'That's exactly the point.' She tapped your desk with her fingernail. 'Come on. Food. A real restaurant. Thirty minutes.'

'I'm not hungry.'

'Liar.'

You almost smiled. 'I have work.'

'Work will still be there.' She didn't blink. 'Food might not.'

'That makes no sense.'

'I know. Just come anyway.'

You looked at your laptop, then back at her. She had that expression, the one that said she wouldn't leave until she got her way.

'Thirty minutes.'

She grinned. 'Look at you, making healthy choices.'

'Don't push it.'

The elevator ride was quiet. Not uncomfortable, just quiet. You both watched the numbers change.

'Where are we going?' you asked.

'Place down the street.'

'What kind of place?'

'The kind with food.' She glanced at you. 'You allergic to anything?'

'No.'

'Good.' She seemed satisfied with that.

Outside, the air felt different. Heavier. Like it might rain again.

'So is this like, a work thing, or...' you trailed off.

'Or what?'

'I don't know. You asked me to dinner.'

'Yeah.'

'So I'm just trying to understand what this is.'

She almost laughed. 'It's food. That's all. Don't overthink it.'

'I'm not overthinking.'

'You overthink everything. It's your whole deal.'

'That's not fair.'

'Probably not—but hey, fair character assessment is a luxury these days.' she giggled.

You huffed under your breath.

You walked together, not quite in step. The city moved around you—people leaving work, heading home, living lives that had nothing to do with quarterly reports or dance practices.

The restaurant was small. Unassuming. No sign outside, just a door between two other businesses.

'Here?' you asked.

'Yeah. Problem?'

'No. Just not what I expected.'

'What did you expect?'

You shrugged. 'Something with a line outside. Trending on Instagram.'

'Wow.' She held the door for you. 'You really don't know me at all.'

Inside was dimly lit. Maybe fifteen tables. Half of them occupied. No one looked up when you entered.

You followed her to a table near the back. Sat down across from her. The menus were just single sheets of paper.

'I come here a lot,' she said. 'After practice sometimes. When I don't want to go back to the dorm.'

'They don't recognize you?'

'They do. They just don't care.' She looked at the menu even though she probably had it memorized. 'That's why I like it.'

The waiter came over. Older guy, maybe fifty. Nodded at Chaewon like he'd seen her yesterday.

'The usual?' he asked her.

'Yeah. Thanks.'

He looked at you.

'Uh,' you fumbled with the menu. 'What's good?'

'Steak,' Chaewon said. 'You like steak, right? You seem like a steak guy.'

'Sure.'

'Medium rare?'

'Medium.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Of course.'

The waiter left. You fidgeted with your napkin.

'You really come here a lot?' you asked.

'Couple times a month.'

'Alone?'

'Usually.'

'Why?'

She looked at you like she was deciding whether to give you a real answer or not. 'Because no one bothers me. Because the food's good. Because sometimes I need to remember I'm still just a person.'

'And your members don't come?'

'They have their own places.' She took a sip of water. 'We don't actually do everything together, you know.'

'Right.'

'You sound surprised.'

'Not surprised. Just...' you couldn't find the right word.

'It's fine. People always think we're this perfect unit. Always together, always in sync.' She traced a pattern on the tablecloth with her finger. 'It's not like that.'

'What's it like?'

'It's like any job. You work with people. You care about them. But you still need your own space sometimes.'

'That makes sense.'

'Does it? You seem like the type who'd live at the office if they'd let you.'

You almost denied it, then didn't. 'Fair point.'

The food came faster than you expected. Her pasta. Your steak. Simple stuff, but it smelled good.

'This isn't exactly what I pictured when you said dinner,' you admitted.

'What did you picture?'

'I don't know. Something more...'

'Fancy?'

'Maybe.'

She shrugged. 'I sit in enough fancy restaurants for work. This is better.'

You took a bite of steak. It was actually good. Really good.

'Not bad,' you said.

'High praise.'

'It is, from me.'

'I know.' She twirled pasta around her fork. 'So, can I ask you something?'

'You just did.'

'Ha ha.' She didn't look amused. 'Seriously though.'

'Go ahead.'

'Do you actually like what you do? Your job?'

You considered bullshitting, then didn't. 'Sometimes.'

'Which parts?'

'The quiet ones. When I'm working on something complicated and it's just me and the problem.' You cut another piece of steak. 'You?'

'Performing. Being on stage. The three minutes where nothing else matters.' She didn't hesitate. 'Everything else is just... stuff I do so I can have those moments.'

'That's a lot of stuff for three minutes.'

'Yeah.' She looked down at her food, prodding with a dash of frustration. 'Yeah, it is.'

You ate in silence for a minute. Not awkward, just... thinking silence.

'Can I ask you something now?' you said.

'Sure.'

'Why'd you ask me to dinner? Really?'

She poked at her pasta. 'I don't know. You looked like you needed it.'

'That's it?'

'Does there have to be more?'

'Usually is.'

She sighed. 'Look, I've sat through enough meetings with you to know you skip lunch most days. And I saw your car in the parking garage at midnight last week when I was leaving the practice room. And then today, you looked...' she gestured vaguely at your face.

'I looked what?'

'Empty-tired, not the usual tiredness you wear on your face. You know?' 

You weren't sure what to say to that.

'Anyway,' she continued. 'It's just dinner. It's not that deep.'

'Right.'

'Right,' she echoed.

The silence that followed should have been uncomfortable. But it wasn't, really. Just quiet.

'It's good,' you finally said, gesturing to your plate. 'The food.'

'Told you.'

'You did.'

She smiled, just slightly. 'I'm right about a lot of things.'

'I'll reserve judgment on that.'

'Smart.' She took a sip of water. 'So... was this weird? Me asking you to dinner?'

You thought about it. 'A little.'

'Sorry.'

'Don't be. Weird isn't bad.'

She nodded. 'No, it's not.'

The rest of the meal was easier. You talked about nothing important. Work, a little. Music she was listening to. A book you'd been meaning to read but hadn't found time for. Normal stuff that normal people probably talked about all the time.

When the check came, you reached for it.

'I got it,' she said.

'You invited me.'

'Exactly.'

'That's not how it works.'

'Says who?' She grabbed the check before you could. 'Too slow, Mr. Executive.'

Outside, the air felt damp. Like it had rained while you were eating, or was about to.

'Which way you headed?' she asked.

You pointed vaguely east.

'I'm that way too. For a few blocks, anyway.'

You walked together. Not too close. Just two people who happened to be going the same direction.

'Thanks,' you said after a minute.

'For what?'

'Dinner.'

'Was it terrible?'

'No.'

'High praise,' she said again.

'I mean it. It was... nice.'

'Wow. Nice. I'm flattered.'

'Shut up.'

She laughed. Not her public laugh, the perfect one from interviews. A real one, slightly too loud.

'You know what?' she said.

'What?'

'You're not as scary as they say.'

'Who says I'm scary?'

'Everyone.' She kicked a small stone on the sidewalk. 'The whole office. The interns call you The Terminator.'

'They do not.'

'They absolutely do.' She grinned. 'But I'll keep your secret.'

'What secret?'

'That you're actually just a regular person who works too much.'

'I don't work too much.'

'Sureeee.' She stopped walking. 'This is me.'

You looked up at her building. Nice but not flashy. 'This is you.'

'Yeah.' She rocked back on her heels slightly. 'So.'

'So.'

'Thanks for coming.'

'Thanks for asking.'

She looked like she might say something else, then didn't. Just nodded. 'See you tomorrow.'

'See you tomorrow.'

She turned, walked toward her door. You should have left then. Just turned and walked away.

Instead, you watched her go. Watched as she paused at the entrance, like maybe she was going to look back.

She didn't.

And that was fine. Better, probably.

You turned and walked home, feeling something you couldn't quite name. Not happiness, exactly. But maybe something close to it. Something adjacent.

Like maybe for the first time in a long time, you'd been a person instead of a position. And maybe that was enough.

—

Chaewon's Diary - April 25, 2025

It's stupid to write this down. Dangerous, probably.

I love him.

I tried not to. Made lists of reasons why I shouldn't. His position. My career. The company. The members. The fans.

The lists didn't help.

I tried imagining my life without him in it. Moving companies. Going solo. Leaving the country. None of it worked because he'd still exist somewhere. I'd still know he was out there.

It's not that I need him. I was fine before him. I'll be fine after, I guess.

But I don't want to be.

I love the way he focuses when he reads reports. How he thinks no one notices when he's tired. How he pretends not to care about things but always remembers details about everyone.

I love how he never says more than he needs to. How he leaves room for silence.

I love that he came to dinner with me. That he let himself be normal for one night.

If he doesn't love me back, that's okay.

But I think sometimes… maybe he could.

—

Morning hit you like a truck.

Your phone was buzzing. Had been buzzing. You fumbled for it, eyes still closed.

Missed call. Another. Another. Another.

You squinted at the screen.

9 missed calls from your manager. 4 from some board member. 8 from numbers you didn't recognize.

The time was 7:12 AM.

More buzzing. Texts now. Emails.

You sat up, suddenly very awake.

First text: a link. You clicked it.

"COMPANY CEO AND IDOL MEMBER CAUGHT ON SECRET DATE"

There was a photo. You and Chaewon at the restaurant. Her laughing. You almost smiling. It looked... not innocent.

More links.

"SOURCE CONFIRMS: CEO AND KIM CHAEWON 'MORE THAN PROFESSIONAL'"

"INSIDER: 'THEY'VE BEEN HIDING IT FOR MONTHS'"

You felt sick. Scrolled back through your notifications, mind racing.

Then you saw it. Late-night texts from Chaewon.

1:12 AM 

don't freak out when you wake up 

someone took pictures at the restaurant 

it's already online i'm sorry

1:14 AM 

my manager is losing it 

company PR called an emergency meeting 

they're saying we can't talk to each other

1:27 AM 

they want me to say it was just a work dinner 

that we barely know each other 

is that what you want me to say?

1:41 AM 

i can't sleep this is so stupid 

we didn't do anything wrong

1:55 AM 

maybe we did though 

maybe i did

1:56 AM 

i've never told you this 

never thought i would need to

1:58 AM 

i love you 

i think i have for a long time 

i just never saw the point in saying it 

it seemed impossible

2:01 AM 

i'm sorry you didn't need this 

not now not with everything else

2:03 AM

forget i said anything blame the dinner on me 

i'll fix this

Your phone started ringing again. Board chairman.

You let it ring.

Read the texts again. And again.

The world was imploding around you, your career possibly in flames, and all you could think about was that last message.

i love you

Your thumb hovered over the screen. What could you possibly say now? What was left to say when everything had already changed?

The phone kept ringing.

—

The boardroom was too bright. Fluorescent lights reflecting off the polished table where twelve men in identical suits sat judging you.

You'd always seen success as a game with simple rules. Work harder. Think faster. Never look back. That's how you climbed here—by treating everything as disposable.

Turns out you were wrong.

You weren't disposable. Chaewon wasn't disposable. Whatever had grown between you wasn't disposable.

But they were treating it like it was.

‘The optics are unacceptable,’ said the Vice Chairman, his voice clinical. ‘A senior executive and an idol? The media is already spinning narratives.’

You watched his mouth move but barely heard the words. Your phone weighed heavy in your pocket. Her message burned into your mind.

i love you i always have

‘Are you listening?’ Someone was addressing you directly now.

‘Yes,’ you lied.

The Chairman leaned forward. ‘We've spent a decade building this company's reputation. We won't let one indiscretion destroy it.’

Indiscretion. As if dinner between two people was a crime.

‘We've developed a containment strategy,’ said the PR director, sliding folders across the table. You didn't open yours. ‘First, no contact with Kim Chaewon. None. Effective immediately.’

Your jaw tightened.

‘Second, you'll accompany Le Sserafim to America. Three weeks of promotional activities. You'll be positioned as overseeing the company's international expansion. Professional distance will be maintained at all times.’

You looked around the table. Not a single sympathetic face.

‘What happens to Chaewon?’ you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

‘She'll be fine,’ said the Chairman dismissively. ‘As long as this situation is managed correctly.’ 

‘And if it isn't?’

The question hung in the air. Someone cleared their throat.

‘Then her position in the group becomes untenable,’ said the A&R director finally. ‘The other members shouldn't suffer for her... complications.’

Complications. That's what they called her now. Not their star performer. Not the artist who'd brought in millions. A complication.

‘So that's the deal,’ you said flatly. ‘I go to America. Stay away from her. Keep my job.’

‘Precisely.’

‘And if I refuse?’

The Chairman's smile didn't reach his eyes. ‘Then you both lose everything.’

Simple as that. A business decision.

Your mind flashed to Chaewon. How she looked at dinner. How easily she laughed. The way she really saw you when no one else bothered to look.

For two years, she'd been the one constant. The one person who grew on you.

‘Do we have an understanding?’ the Chairman pressed.

Someone was speaking. You realized it was you.

‘I understand perfectly.’

Everything felt unreal. As if you were a mirage of yourself, observing yourself in the most dire situation.

‘Good. Your flight leaves tomorrow night. The PR team has prepared statements for both of you. Stick to the script.’

They moved on. Budget projections. Q3 forecasts. As if they hadn't just hollowed you out completely.

You sat there, a model of composure. Inside, something was breaking, tearing along a fault line you hadn't known existed until Chaewon walked into your office and asked you to dinner.

The meeting ended. Men in suits filed out, crisis averted.

You remained seated, staring at your reflection in the polished table.

Tomorrow you'd fly to America. You'd watch Chaewon from across rooms, pretend she was nothing to you. You'd do it because the alternative would destroy her.

Your phone buzzed once. A text.

It wasn't from her. It couldn't be. They'd already gotten to her.

You checked anyway.

From your assistant: ‘Car is waiting whenever you're ready, sir.’

You stood up. Straightened your tie. Gathered the folder you never opened.

They thought they'd won. Thought they'd contained the problem.

They didn't understand.

They'd taken everything from you except the one thing that mattered—the knowledge that somewhere in this building was a woman who loved you. Had always loved you.

And for the first time, you were certain you loved her too.

—

You left the boardroom, a hollow shell of yourself.

America. No Chaewon. For three weeks.

They called it mercy. You called it execution.

The flight to Los Angeles stretched endlessly, your thoughts circling like vultures. You didn't sleep. Couldn't. The empty seat beside you an accusation.

Your phone vibrated as the plane touched down.

11:42 PM

landed safe?

Chaewon.

You stared at her message until the screen dimmed, then went black. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard.

They couldn't monitor texts, could they? Were they watching?

You couldn't risk it. Couldn't risk her.

No response.

The California sun felt wrong on your skin. Too bright, too insistent. Your hotel suite overlooked the Pacific. Endless blue that reminded you of nothing but distance.

Day Three.

8:17 AM

meetings are boring without you to glare at everyone

8:19 AM

the new intern asked where you went

8:22 AM

i told her you were saving the american branch from themselves

You almost smiled. Almost.

No response.

The American executives treated you like royalty. A king in exile. Their offices were too bright, their coffee too bitter, their laughter too loud. You moved through meetings like a ghost, present but never there.

Day Five.

3:04 AM

can't sleep

3:05 AM

is it the time difference or is it just

3:11 AM

never mind

What would you say if you could? That you lay awake too, staring at hotel ceilings, replaying her confession like a film you couldn't pause?

No response.

You worked eighteen-hour days. Not because the work required it, but because your empty room was unbearable. The silence that you once called home—incomplete.

Day Seven.

1:47 PM

there's a rumor you're never coming back

1:48 PM

tell me that's not true

1:52 PM

please

The last word felt like a knife between your ribs. Please. As if you had a choice. As if any of this was within your control.

No response.

The days blurred. You functioned on autopilot, your mind perpetually seventeen hours ahead, in Seoul, where she was.

Day Nine.

5:31 PM

they announced the showcase dates

5:32 PM

we're coming to LA next week

5:33 PM

will you be there?

Le Sserafim. Coming to Los Angeles. Of course. The universe's cruelest joke—to bring her so close, yet keep her untouchable.

No response.

You attended dinners. Networking events. Smiled when appropriate. Spoke when necessary. No one noticed how your eyes constantly swept rooms, searching for threats that weren't there.

Day Twelve.

10:17 AM

we leave tomorrow

10:18 AM

i know you can't answer

10:25 AM

but please, if you can

10:26 AM

be there

They must have warnings in place. Her messages carried the weight of someone being careful—someone who knew the stakes.

No response.

Le Sserafim arrived with the usual fanfare. Cameras flashing. Fans screaming. You watched from the periphery as she emerged from the airport terminal, perfect smile in place, waving to the crowd.

She didn't look for you. Knew better than that.

But you saw the tension in her shoulders. The way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes; not quite the smile she had when she swiped up some of your steak.

Day Fourteen.

No messages.

You checked your phone obsessively. Refreshed the screen until the battery drained to critical. Nothing.

The silence was worse than any words could have been.

The showcase venue was packed—a sea of lightsticks and expectant faces. You stood in the shadows of the VIP section, surrounded by American executives who had no idea you were breaking apart inside.

Le Sserafim performed flawlessly. Of course they did. Chaewon shone like a star brought to earth—her voice clear, her movements precise, her smile blinding.

Not once did her eyes search the crowd. Not once did she falter.

Professional to her core.

You left before the final song. Couldn't bear another moment of proximity without contact.

In your hotel room, you drank two fingers of whiskey and watched the city lights blur through the window.

Your phone remained silent.

Day Sixteen.

You were leaving a restaurant when you saw her.

Across the street, surrounded by managers and security. The group heading into a high-end boutique.

Your driver opened your car door, but you stood frozen, watching as she disappeared inside the shop.

She didn't see you.

When you returned to your hotel, you found a message.

7:03 PM

i saw you today

7:04 PM

you looked tired

You stared at the screen, heart hammering against your ribs.

No response.

Day Nineteen.

The final showcase. The final night in Los Angeles. Tomorrow, Le Sserafim would fly to New York. You would follow a day later.

You sat in the back row, hidden in shadow. Watched her perform for the last time on American soil.

She was transcendent.

Afterward, you slipped backstage under the pretense of congratulating the team. Your company's biggest assets. Your professional obligation.

She stood with the other members, accepting praise from American executives. Smiling. Nodding. Perfect.

Your eyes met across the room.

One second. Two.

Then she looked away, her expression never changing.

But you saw it—the slight tremble of her hand at her side.

Back in your hotel room, your phone lit up.

8:30 PM

i miss you

8:31 PM

i know i shouldn't say that

8:31 PM

i know i shouldn't even text you

8:32 PM

but i can't do this anymore

8:32 PM

please say something

Your chest tightened. Three weeks of silence, and now this—her desperation breaking through, risking everything.

You stared at the screen, knowing what you should do. Delete. Ignore. Follow the rules that kept her safe.

Instead, your fingers moved.

8:35 PM

The coffee in LA is terrible.

A pause. You could almost see her confusion.

8:36 PM

what?

8:37 PM

that's what you have to say?

You smiled faintly. Even the way you message her—capitalized first letters—is unique from hers.

8:38 PM

I hear New York's is better

Might try it when I get there

8:40 PM

when will you be in new york?

8:41 PM

Tomorrow.

8:41 PM

Early flight.

You weren't supposed to be on tomorrow's flight. You were meant to follow a day later. Keep the distance. Maintain the separation they'd enforced.

8:42 PM

you changed your flight?

8:43 PM

Figured I should see the Empire State Building.

8:43 PM

Heard the view is worth the risk.

Your heart pounded. The careful wording. The hidden meaning. Saying everything without saying anything that could truly incriminate either of you.

8:45 PM

there's a small coffee shop

8:45 PM

by the hotel

8:46 PM

i was planning to go there

8:46 PM

after tomorrow's rehearsal

8:47 PM

around 4

A plan. Hidden in casual conversation.

8:48 PM

Sounds like a good place for coffee.

8:49 PM

it is

8:49 PM

they say it's quiet

8:50 PM

not many people know about it

8:51 PM

I like quiet.

The conversation was innocent enough on the surface. Anyone reading would see nothing but meaningless chatter about coffee.

But between the lines: a plan. A meeting. A rebellion.

8:53 PM

i have to go

8:53 PM

sakura is calling

8:54 PM

don't forget to try the coffee

8:54 PM

it's been too long since you had a good cup

You stared at those last words. The double meaning clear.

8:55 PM

I won't forget.

You deleted the conversation. She would do the same.

But the promise remained.

Tomorrow. New York. 4 PM.

Day Twenty-one would break the rules. Day Twenty-one would change everything.

—

You got to the airport before the others. Boarded the flight before the others. Got the first class treatment that the board thinks you like.

The whole seat had a door. You closed it just in case you saw Chaewon. In case you lost it.

Despite it all, you knew she was there, the wisp of her soft perfume serenaded you even through thick mahogany wood panels—through the opulence of first class.

You kept your eyes fixed on your laptop screen. Work emails you couldn't focus on. Words blurring together as your mind fixed on one thought:

Tomorrow. 4 PM. Her hotel.

The ‘coffee shop’ wasn't a coffee shop at all. You both knew that. A code thin enough that anyone monitoring would see through it, yet plausible enough to maintain deniability.

The flight attendant asked if you wanted champagne. You declined. Asked for water instead. Needed a clear head.

Five hours trapped in a metal tube, knowing she was just rows behind you. Five hours of pretending the center of your universe wasn't within reach.

Your phone buzzed. A text from the Chairman.

‘Landing at JFK ahead of Le Sserafim. Good optics. Keep distance in New York. Almost done.’

Almost done. The words echoed.

Twenty days down. One more to go.

Tomorrow, at 4 PM, you would break every rule they had set. You would go to her hotel. You would see her—really see her—for the first time in three weeks.

And then what?

You had no plan beyond that moment. No strategy for what came after. The executive who planned everything had no contingency for this. A hollow cadaver. Waning the flames that could be easily put if you just resisted.

If only.

The plane took off, carrying you toward New York. Toward her. Toward whatever came next.

You closed your eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. All you could think about was her text:

i miss you

Three small words that had unraveled three weeks of carefully maintained distance.

Three small words that weren't the three words you couldn't stop thinking about since that night:

i love you

—

After you left her hotel room, after you hugged her, after you saw her face up close—dangerously close to kissing her—everything collapsed once more. The dregs of your hope were gone once again: You wanted only her. Only her.

You walked past the hallway, trying not to look suspicious under the camera—which, to be frank, was impossible.

And pressed the keycard onto the door, as suspiciously as possible, and entered. With your back to the closed door, you pulled out your phone and messaged her.

4:07 PM

Let’s meet again

4:08 PM

where?

4:08 PM

On the rooftop

4:09 PM

i miss you

4:10 PM

You just saw me.

4:10 PM

i know

4:11 PM

Hang in there. 

Chaewon.

4:11 PM

i like it when you say my name.

4:12 PM

Chaewon, this can end your career.

4:12 PM

i dont care. 

i want you. 

only you.

You slid down the door and sat. With your phone still in hand. 

You’re about to risk everything. Was it love that meant protecting her forever? Was it love that meant you couldn’t still yourself for a month or a year, wait, and wait, until she’s finally free?

Damn it all.

—

Chaewon’s Diary—Part 2 of May 15, 2025

He wants to meet me. On the rooftop.

Why?

Is he gonna kiss me? Is he gonna reject me once more?

Was it even a rejection in the first place? He promised. He promised. Oh god, my head hurts, I can’t think of anything.

All I can think of is him. My executive. 

—

As the sun turns orange in its preparation for slumber, you make your way to the rooftop of the hotel. The elevator chimes, almost too loud, and you enter with a towel on-hand. There’s moments where the shiver runs through your entire body—not out of being scared, but of the possibility of seeing Chaewon again. 

The elevator reaches the top floor. And in your hopes of not seeing anyone there, you were vindicated. No one. Nobody. Just a heated pool with the bougiest accommodations possible.

Thank the heavens, you thought.

Now it’s time to patiently wait, to not gnaw through your teeth like it’s cardboard in anticipation (which is easier said than done).

Regardless, you waited, sitting on one of the chairs, overlooking the sunset. The breeze was chilly, but nothing that you couldn’t endure.

So you waited.

But just for a moment, you closed your eyes.

—

‘Silly.’ 

Your eyes opened.

There she was. Chaewon. In all her glory

In the 2 hours you haven’t seen her, when the sun gained its slightly orange tint, she’s progressed into something like a goddess. Brown bob-cut, a perfect face…. Perfection incarnate.

‘You fell asleep.’

‘Oh.’ That’s about all you could get out; too busy staring at her.

‘I missed you.’

‘It’s been 2 hours.’

‘I know.’

‘You’re about to risk everything.

‘I know.’

‘Your career. Your… everything.’

‘You are my everything.’ She replies—climbing on top of you. Crystalline tears formed around the rims of her eyes.

‘Chaewon. Please.’

‘There’s nothing quite like this… hm?’ She says, amused at how doomed everything seemed to be.

‘Fighting against inevitability.’ You continue. Pressing your thumbs against her cheekbones once again, where tears flow once again. 

‘I’m so selfish.’

‘Don’t say that. Don’t say that… I am too.’ 

‘I thought if I avoided you. Long enough. Maybe, just maybe, we would’ve had a better chance. Look at me now, on you, risking everything.’

She softly collapsed on your chest, huffing her tears. And you spread your palm along her soft hair, this perfect hair.

‘You are so beautiful. Chaewon.’

‘I love you.’

Perhaps this is where it all topples. The final wall, once a 100-story skyscraper, reduced to mere ruins.

And you kiss her; grab the nape of her neck and press yourself closer to the kiss. Her lips. Her soft moans. Little squeals. 

Fuck.

You press yourself against the hotness of her mouth. Her velvety mouth crossed along your own. An apprehensive rush to it—oxymoron be damned—you wanted everything Chaewon—while not crossing any lines.

Despite it all, Chaewon’s soft hands ventured forth to your arms, grasped them tight and placed them right along her thin waist.

She wants it.

She wants you.

And that just about does it.

You release just for a bit. Look at her half-lidded eyes, seemingly, under pure bliss.

‘If we continue…’ You say, each syllable harder than the previous. The fact that you’re here, kissing Chaewon, feeling her body, just as you dreamed, just as you wished for all time—makes it harder to think of all the consequences.

The impending doom—so to speak.

‘You idiot.’ She replies.

‘What?’ 

‘I’ve risked everything and more to be here with you right now. And you think I’ll flake out now? Of all times—now?’

You laugh, so close to her mouth; you stare at her, and she’s attempting eyebrow-knitted frustration that’s more cute than anything else.

‘You’re so cute.’

‘Oh shut up.’

‘You’re everything to me.’ 

‘...So are you.’

Her eyes glisten something transcendent and she moves to kiss you again. That velvety soft mouth, of mint, of something fruity.

Pure bliss.

‘I want you.’ She squeaks out, between the kisses.

‘You have me.’ You reply, accidentally bumping teeth. Soft laughter ensues.

She’s so soft against your palms—the small of her back, the tightness of her waist, the bump of her bra-strap. Inbetween it all, moaning something sweet into your mouth. She releases just for a second, catching a glimpse of you; her lips are all kiss-bitten and swollen, soft and supple; ‘We’re two walking cadavers, you know.’

‘Lust and learning Chaewon. That’s all there is to it.’

Instead of a quick and bratty reply—

‘That’s true.’

Her lips land on yours once again. Flight and apprehensive, her thin arms wrap around you like you’re something to lose: tight enough that you know she’s there.

Her meek body is warm against you—just a shroud of clothing between your hand and her milky skin. You needed her. Wanted her more. An indulgence that satiation could barely meet.

So you flip her over; on this thin pool chair, a little bougie, Chaewon was splayed across.

And god.

It was all worth it. Your executive position on standstill—bound for execution. Your impending exile. All of it.

White t-shirt, thin shorts, and just a smidgen of make-up—lip-stick all smudged along her plump lips.

Being away for just a second was tantamount to hell: You dived in. Her body felt so docile and meek under you—squirming along your hot touch. Surround your thick arms around her thin waist, let her back bend in response, feel her stomach press upon you as you kiss her into the pool chair—little soft squeals the guiding light to it all.

Her hands ventured low to bunch up her t-shirt, and you helped her; really, you wanted to press on her soft naked abdomen, venture up to her naked sternum, feeling the soft naked swell of her—

Her t-shirt slipped off quickly, and there laid her gorgeous torso. 

You pressed kisses along her collarbone; just enough pressure to leave a mark there for days.

Just in case, you say, don’t forget me, just for a day or two.

You press softer kisses along the softer flesh below her collarbone, feeling her skin, really conceptualizing that she’s there. Really fucking there. And you laugh, under your breath; as if Chaewon knew exactly what you were thinking, her palm lands right on your cheek—softly grazing.

‘I’m here.’

‘Right. Right.’ 

Gain composure. This goddess awaits you.

So you venture forth. Along her neck muscle, the soft tendon that trembles under your kiss, the loose skin that gets her squirming under you, muscles tensing. Just below her jaw, you suck on her skin, tight, really tight, until you’re sure that there’s a welting hickey right there.

You observe how the red blooms, slowly gaining almost a purple hue. Nothing could cover that.

‘You’re really asking to be caught.’ She says, almost satisfied you left a mark on her.

‘Are you gonna cover it?’

‘Why would I cover what you give me?’ Her expression is pure seduction. Aphrodite incarnate.

Again, your world exploded.

You kiss her rougher this time. Muss up her hair. Venture beneath her waist. Pull at her firm thighs. Hands venture along the sides of her, your cold fingertips get her softly squirming beneath your touch—shimmers of gooseflesh rising along the delicate curves of her side, right under your fingertips.

The bronze sun shimmers off her torso as something like a masterpiece—faint shadows articulated along her perfect body—different orange, yellow hues bouncing off and enhancing the swells and curves and everything she had.

You pull her waist softly to get it bent again, venturing underneath, feeling her spine; venturing along her spine, the soft swell of it all—she’s here, she wants you, all 2 years of it condensed into this moment.

The bra-strap hits you like a reminder that her bosom was hidden beneath, the gentle swells and curves all a devious hint at what lay under.

So you clip it.

She shivers at the realization. The clip was off. And your hands automatically moved to take it off completely.

Her arms softly push together her torso: Displaying the treasure that laid before you.

Beautiful bronze peaks.

God.

God!

‘Ready the funeral wreaths for me. Chaewon.’

She scoffs. Then a soft laugh choked her up.

Your two hands softly teased the sides of her breasts; the way it surrendered to the slightest force; you ventured across her swell, feeling the desperate softness of her naked breasts. All while kissing her desperately. Your hands felt up and down, side-to-side, until she squirmed for relief: That’s when your fingers brushed over her perfect nipples.

And you had to look.

The way she shivered. God. Biting the side of her index finger. Moaning. Soft. Squealing even as you watched her carefully. The way her tongue traced a wet line along her lips—goading you, Aphrodite.

Your kiss ventured down, the soft tendon of her neck, the firm sternum.

Then finally—her breasts.

You kiss the soft skin.

Circling it.

The part that needed relief.

Teasing her. Even if the perpetuity of a multi-billion dollar company finding a way to bury you was crushing, her presence relieved it all.

Latched on.

‘Ahhh~’

‘Music to my ears.’

‘Oh shut up.’

‘Gladly.’

You dug in. Breaths became rigidly quick. Your other hand massaged the other breast. The nipple between your teeth got the most beautiful notes out of her.

By the time you stopped, her entire body shook.

‘Did you just cum?’

Her weak arm fell softly on your chest—apparently—a punch. 

‘No.’

A sick grin grew on you, and you wrapped your arms around her; kissing her jawline. 

‘You really did cum.’

Before you could do anything, her two hands squished your cheeks together.

‘Take responsibility.’

Trapped between her two small hands, you laugh. ‘I know. I know.’ A soft kiss on her sweat-slick forehead.

Your smirk lingers as you press another kiss against her temple. ‘You’ve got some nerve, you know that?’

Chaewon shifts slightly, resting her chin on your shoulder. ‘Nerve?’ she echoes, voice still breathless.

‘You climbed on top of me, seduced me, came just from me playing with your tits…’ Your hands wander, sliding down the dip of her back, feeling the heat of her skin. ‘And now you’re telling me to take responsibility?’

She hums, fingers tracing light, absentminded shapes on your chest. ‘Mmm. That’s right.’

You chuckle against her perfumed hair—sweet, fruity. ‘And what exactly does ‘taking responsibility’ mean to you?’

Her lips barely brush your ear as she murmurs, ‘It means you don’t stop until I can’t think straight.’

Your breath catches.

And then, you’re moving.

With a swift motion, you flip her onto her back, her body bouncing slightly against the lounge chair. She gasps, eyes wide for only a second before a slow, knowing grin spreads across her lips.

‘Too much?’ you tease, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.

Chaewon shakes her head, cheeks flushed, wrists tightening. ‘Not even close.’

You take a moment to admire her like this—laid out beneath you, messy hair spread out over the cushion, lips still kiss-bitten and swollen. Her chest rises and falls with anticipation, and her legs shift restlessly against yours, already needing more.

‘I love this look on you,’ you murmur, tracing your free hand down her side. ‘All desperate and needy.’

Feigning offense, ‘I am not needy.’

‘Oh?’ Your fingers dance along the waistband of her shorts, teasing, not quite moving further. ‘Then what do you call this?’

She squirms. Just slightly. Just enough.

‘I call it,’ she whispers, tugging at her trapped wrists, ‘a challenge.’

Oh.

A thrill rushes through you.

Your grip on her wrists tightens slightly, your knee nudging between her legs, pressing against the wet heat of her core. She gasps, back arching, but you don’t move—just let her feel the pressure, let her know exactly what she’s asking for.

‘Careful, baby,’ you murmur, leaning down, lips hovering just above hers. ‘You might not like what happens when I take that challenge.’

Chaewon’s grin is pure defiance, pure want.

‘Try me.’

And so you do.

Your hand finally slips beneath the waistband of her shorts, fingers sliding between her soaked folds, feeling the way she clenches around nothing, already so ready for you.

‘You’re soaked,’ you murmur against her neck, voice full of something dark and satisfied. ‘You’ve been like this since I was playing with your tits, huh?’

She whines, trying to twist her wrists free, but you don’t let her go.

‘You’re not getting out of this,’ you tease, slipping one finger inside her, the velvety pink folds, feeling her tense, then relax, then tighten again as you curl it just right, just fucking right, just until she curls her back to you. ‘You wanted me to take responsibility?’ You slip another finger into her, the tight wetness of her, stretching her slowly. ‘Then take it.’

Her breath stutters. And she moans.

Your thumb circles her clit, slow but firm, coaxing out soft, trembling moans that get swallowed by the night air.

And then, just when she starts getting lost in it—just when her hips start rolling, when she’s clenching desperately around your fingers—you stop.

Your hand is stuck on her wrists, and the other—fucking her senseless.

Her whine is immediate. ‘No, no, don’t—’

You smirk against her throat. ‘Not so fun when I’m the one teasing, huh?’

‘You’re evil.’

‘I’m making sure you really feel it.’ You drag your fingers out completely, holding them up just enough for her to see the way they glisten in the dim light. ‘And you do feel it, don’t you, baby?’

Chaewon glares at you, still breathless, still burning up, but there’s something playful in the way she juts her chin out.

‘Fine,’ she murmurs. ‘If you’re gonna tease…’

Then, before you can react, she hooks her legs around your waist and grinds up against you, rubbing herself against your cock through your pants—needy, desperate, shameless.

Your breath leaves you in a sharp hiss.

‘Shit.’

She grins. ‘What was that?’

You grip her hips, forcing them to still. ‘You really wanna play that game?’

She tilts her head. ‘You gonna stop me?’

No. No, you’re not.

You’re gonna fuck her senseless.

Your grip tightens around her hips, firm enough that she stops moving—but not before you grind back, pressing yourself against the slick heat between her thighs, making her gasp.

‘Chaewon,’ you murmur, voice rough, a warning. ‘You’re playing a dangerous game.’

She exhales shakily, eyes locked onto yours, her body taut beneath you.

‘You sure you’re ready for the consequences?’ You add.

Instead of answering, she licks her lips and tugs at her trapped wrists again. ‘Dear, I forgot about consequences a long time ago.’

You smirk, it’s true. You’re about to fuck her on this pool chair. Open to 360 degrees of vision, just the slightest glimpse and they’d see you fucking Chaewon. The fact that you’d lose your position the moment they saw you within 5 feet of Chaewon, let alone fucking her.

Fight against fate with absurdity.

You shift, focusing on the moment, leaning down so your lips barely ghost over hers. ‘I like you like this,’ you admit, your voice low, teasing. ‘All spread out, squirming, desperate—’

She whimpers when you roll your hips into her again, the friction delicious, just enough to drive her crazy without giving her what she really wants.

‘You’re so mean,’ she breathes, but her body betrays her, arching up, trying to chase more.

You chuckle, finally freeing her wrists—only for her to grab the collar of your shirt and yank you down into a kiss.

It’s messy, all tongue and heat, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer, like she’s trying to mold herself to you completely. You groan into her mouth, one hand gripping her thigh, the other slipping beneath her shorts again, fingers finding their place against her soaked entrance.

She’s so fucking wet.

You tease her with your fingertips, barely dipping inside, a soft squelch, just enough to make her whimper into the kiss.

‘God, you need it, huh?’ you murmur against her lips.

She nods frantically, her hands clawing at your shoulders. ‘Please.’

Your breath catches at how wrecked she already sounds. ‘Please what?’

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t hesitate. ‘Please fuck me.’

You curse under your breath.

Then you sit up, hands moving with quick precision—grabbing the waistband of her shorts and yanking them down her legs, tossing them aside without care.

And finally, she’s bare beneath you.

You take a moment, just looking at her. The way she’s sprawled out, chest rising and falling rapidly, legs slightly parted, glistening with need.

‘You’re perfect.’

Chaewon bites her lip, her gaze flicking down—to where you’re already painfully hard, straining against your pants. She reaches forward, fingers trembling slightly as they brush over you, tracing the outline of your cock.

You let out a sharp breath.

‘You’re still dressed,’ she murmurs. ‘Not fair.’

She’s right.

So you fix it.

You shed your clothes as quickly as possible, the fabric falling to the floor, forgotten. When you look at her again, she’s staring at you—all of you—her lips slightly parted, eyes dark.

Then, slowly, her fingers curl around your cock, stroking once, twice, making your whole body tense.

‘Fuck.’

She grins. ‘That was cute.’

You glare at her, grip tightening on her hips. ‘You wanna see cute? Keep talking.’

She laughs, breathy, and guides you between her legs.

Your tip brushes against her entrance, and her laughter dies into a shaky inhale.

You barely push in, just an inch, feeling how tight, how hot she is, and you both groan at the same time.

Chaewon’s nails dig into your shoulders. ‘More,’ she gasps.

You give her more.

You sink into her inch by inch, stretching her, filling her completely, watching the way her pink lips part as she takes all of you.

She feels unreal.

You curse, head falling to her shoulder, breathing heavily against her skin. ‘You’re so—fuck—you feel so good.’

She’s trembling, her arms wrapping around your back, holding you as close as possible. ‘Move. Please—move.’ she pleads, desperately whispering hot breath into your ear, as you bury yourself into her petite shoulder.

And so you do.

Your hips pull back, then roll forward again, slow, wet, a stretched squelch, setting a slow, deliberate pace—making sure she feels everything. Every inch, every pulse, every deep thrust that has her gasping your name like a prayer.

She’s already falling apart beneath you, legs wrapped around your waist, nails raking down your back.

‘Faster. Oh please, faster.’ she breathes.

You obey.

Your hips snap against hers, faster, deeper, her moans turning into desperate little cries with every thrust.

‘You’re taking me so well,’ you murmur, kissing the shell of her ear, your fingers tangling with hers as you pin her hands above her head again. ‘Like you were made for this.’

She nods frantically, barely able to form words, barely able to do anything but cling to you and feel.

Her lips quiver. ‘I was made for you.’

She finally unravels, clenching around you so tightly, her whole body trembling, a gushing pressure around your cock, her musical chant of bliss filling your ears—you follow right after, burying yourself as deep as possible, spilling into her your entire seed, painting her cervix white, losing yourself completely.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but heavy breathing, tangled limbs, the aftermath of everything you’ve held back for so long.

Then, finally, Chaewon exhales, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw.

‘You’re definitely taking responsibility,’ she whispers.

You chuckle, pressing your forehead against hers.

There’s something nonsensical about it all. You’d rather not think about it. Your lover. The woman of your dreams underneath you, who took your seed, who keeps kissing the shell of your ear like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

But it keeps coming back.

The fact that no one caught you on the rooftop is a miracle.

The fact that maybe tomorrow or the day after is the day you get caught is… reality.

You want to fight everything that distends you from your dream, your everything: Chaewon.

But it’s frail. You can see it in her eyes too. Even as you rest your sweat-slick forehead against hers, blowing soft hairs out of her forehead—you can see tears coast on her red-rimmed eyes.

She loves you.

The near chance that you may be separated tears at you, hacks at your soul.

Your heart has wings for her.

Chaewon.

Your queen.

Aphrodite incarnate.

The only one.

TO BE CONTINUED(?)

[thinkinonsense]

i just listened to sabrina's new album and oh my god the song slim pickins is such a song that was written from daydreaming about lumberjack!logan, oh and the recent fic that you reblogged was just so yummy and perfect for that song especially the lyrics "a boy who's jacked and nice" like god having to settle down for less because nobody can be him 😭😭😭 need him expeditiously im afraid

it's slim pickins

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: yearning!! fluff, tiny nsfw conversation (nothing graphic)

a/n: this request couldn't have come in at a better time because i'm seeing sabrina on opening night of her tour tomorrow night!! <3

masterlist

"am i just destined to be alone forever?"

another friday night in the hole in the wall bar outside of town. another date gone horribly wrong. your question hangs heavy in the air as you gossip to your best friend who's bartending tonight.

"you keep picking douche bags." she answers without missing a beat.

"well, that's fuckin' rude." you slur slightly, sipping on your third fruity drink tonight.

"well, it's fuckin' true." she smiles, looking over your shoulder at a group of men that walked in. "why don't you go talk to one of them? they look hot."

you spin around in your stool to see a group of lumberjack workers. these were the men that you worked with, you can't flirt with them.

"i work with those guys!" you hiss.

"sooo...?" she smirks.

both of you quickly end the conversation with the five guys approach the bar. the last thing you needed was for these guys to see the desperate and pathetic look on your face. quickly, you rummage through your purse for some cash to put down.

"what are you doing here, doll face?" a familiar voice asks.

you look up and see the most handsome of the men, in front of you; logan. twice your size, buff, toned, tan... god, you had such a crush on him. never in a million years would you go after him though, he's too good to want a girl like you. you were just a friend. he make small talk with you, laughed at your jokes, calls you little nicknames, and refills the coffee pot for you but thats what friends do, right?

"oh... um, i'm just-"

"she's been sitting here moaning and bitching to me all night about her horrible date." your best friend smiles then introduces herself to logan with a handshake.

"thanks asshole." you mumble under your breath at her, making logan chuckle.

"tough night?" he asks, looking down at you in a way that makes heat rises up your face.

"kinda, but i'll save you all the gory details." you admit, sliding off the tall stool a little ungracefully. "have a good night, logan."

"wait, doll face." he says, grabbing your arm to balance you. "wanna talk about it? i'm sure your friend here is busy."

the alcohol let him take you to one of the booths. all the other men noticed logan and you sitting together, definitely making mental notes to tease you both on monday.

"so, what's on your mind?" logan asks, taking a swig of his beer.

"it's nothing really..." your mouth says one thing but your phone says another; practically buzzing off the table.

"you sure?" he raises a brow.

"uh... yeah?" you sound confused as you peak at the notification. an annoyed groan falls from your lips as you slam the phone back down and sink into the booth. "why? why? why?"

"why what?" he squints.

"be honest, do i have dumbass written on my forehead?" you sigh, hazily looking over at logan. the question threw him off guard; unsure if you're joking or not.

"no." he answers.

" well, i sure feel like one. every guy i've gone out with is either the most obnoxious asshole i've ever met who's still hung up on his ex or he's absolutely perfect but he's just not ready for a commitment right now? what the fuck does that even mean?"

all of your drunk rambling surprised logan. at work, he's only seen your shy personality as you scribble down numbers and log them into spreadsheets. this was a completely different side of you.

"i know what you're thinking, 'why not just try dating a woman?'. well, i fucking would if this town wasn't stuck in the 50's, except the men aren't going to war in order to get away from you, instead they just run back in between their ex's thighs and pull that 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit."

it was getting harder for logan not to crack at your silly yet, adorable expressions as you rant.

"and the worst part is that they can't even get a woman to orgasm." you say a little quieter. logan stores that quote in his pocket for another time. "a few weeks ago, i literally had a man in my bed who didn't know the difference between their, there, and they're! i don't know who's stupider, him for not knowing or me for letting him give me the worst head in my life."

if you were even a little sober, this would be mortifying. sitting in front of your work crush and spilling pathetic details of your love life to him. if you were even a little sober, you would have notice his eyes turn dark and lustful under the dim bar lighting. logan couldn’t fathom that you were having trouble in your love life.

"sounds like it's slim pickins out there."

"you have no idea." you sigh.

"if it makes you feel any better, i don't think that you're stupid."

"you're just saying that to be polite. trust me, everyone thinks i'm an idiot for taking these guys back every time. im just like my mom, my sisters, my friends, and every other girl i know. we make up excuses for their shitty behavior because we are afraid to be alone."

logan could see tears forming in your waterline, about to roll down your cheek. it hurt him to see you so heartbroken over these losers. everyday at work, you came in like a ray of fucking sunshine. you didn't deserve to be treated like this.

"it's not your fault that those asshole don't know how to treat a woman." he sighs, leaning forward in an attempt to comfort you.

"i know, i know..." your voice was cracking and you didn't want logan to see you so vulnerable. suddenly, you rise from the booth. "thanks for listening, logan."

"where do you think you're going, doll face?" he asks, following you out the door.

"should head home." you mumble, pulling up the number of a car service about twenty minutes out.

"let me give you a ride home." he offers. "you've been drinking too much."

it's late, you're exhausted and heartbroken so, you let him help you into his truck. it's kinda old but full of character, like logan.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" logan asks, breaking the silence in the car. "still sad?"

you shrug. "think i'm just going to become a nun."

he tried, he really did, but he had to laugh.

"sweetheart, there's no need to become a nun."

"well, i'm never going to find the man i'm looking for so, might as well join the sisterhood."

"what are you looking for in this dream man?"

logan's question has your eyes wondering over to where his left hand sets on the wheel and his right on thigh. the images of what his hands could do flood your fuzzy mind.

"j-just a good guy who's um, who's kind, jacked... respectful, good with his hands...."

it was shameless, your staring that is. logan worried you might get drool on the car seat, not that he would mind.

"hm... those seem like simple requirements there."

"apparently not." you giggle. "it's fine, though. i'm sure the nuns will be friendly."

"still thinking about joining the 'sisterhood'?" he asks, pulling up to your drive way.

"maybe... i'll give it twenty-four hours and if he doesn't come knocking on my door, i'll just buy a chasity belt and go off the grid with the nuns." your smile warmed his cold bitter heart. "thanks for the ride, lo. i'll see you monday."

as logan watches you fumble with your keys and make your way inside, he fights an internal battle over his feelings. he has had a crush on you since the day the two of you first met. by the end of the week, you had baked him some cupcakes, babbling about how you do this for all the new employees, which was far from the truth he later learned.

you captured his heart. even when he tried to burry his feelings for you, when logan looked at you, his world stood still for a moment. he looked forward to all your silly jokes in the break room or the ridiculous gossip you would tell him when he lingered outside of your office door. he couldn't let you slip away into the arms of another asshole who didn't deserve you.

before logan could comprehend what he was doing, his feet lead him up to your door, knocking twice. the wooden door opened and he knew he made the right decision.

there you were in your light blue and grey plaid pajamas with a cupcake in your hand and vanilla frosting on your bottom lip. logan had never seen you look prettier.

"hey? did i leave something in the–"

in the blink of an eye, logan’s hands reach up to caress your jaw, leaning in until his mouth engulfs yours. the taste of vanilla and alcohol surrounded both of you. forgetting the cupcake in your hand, dropping it to reach up and pull logan closer. kissing him was like drinking a glass of wine after a long day. no more stress or anxiety over anyone else’s bullshit. the two of you gasp against each others lips, catching your breath.

“i could be the good guy, you know?” logan pants, now forever addicted to your taste. “i could be the good guy for you.”

your heart fluttered as you stared up at his pretty hazel eyes, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger. this had to be a very realistic dream, thats the only answer to this.

“you would do that for me, logan?” your delicate voice could bring him to his knees, worshiping the ground you walk on.

“i would do anything for you, honey.” he whispers, leaning back in to kiss you again. maybe your dream guy wasn't as far away as you thought?

[kkoga]

DO IT. DO THE HURT NO COMFORT. PLPSLSPLSPSLSPLS I LOVE ANGST!!!

-🎧

A/N : your wish is my command....

RAINY NIGHTS, sophia laforteza x fem!reader

Warning ! Hurt no comfort, toxic relationship, mentions of sensitive topics, not proofread

Disclaimer ! Everything written here is pure fiction. Every person is not a real portrayal of themselves.

Now playing ! Cologne by beabadobee

WC — I dont knkw bruh i wrote this and its 3 fucking am im not mentally sane lawl phones also 7 percent.

Synopsis ! After Sophia Laforteza fucks up multiple times, Y/n decides she's had enough. Time and time the girl had waited, but much to her dismay, all Sophia had done, was disappoint her.

Y/n shamefully exits the restaurant, feeling dozens of eyes on her. The girl had been waiting for her girlfriend, Sophia Laforteza, to show up to a date they've been planning for weeks now.

The first hour wasn't so bad. Maybe she had gotten stuck in traffic, or maybe she would be just a little late. The second hour was worse. At that point, waiters and waitresses had started asking her where her partner was. And what Y/n hated the most, was the fact that she had no answer to their questions.

Now here she was, after the fourth hour of waiting. It was currently 12 am, and much to the girl's luck, it had just started raining.

The girl could only sigh.

"What a great marvellous day! Not only does Sophia leave me waiting for our date, it starts raining right after I get kicked out! Absolutely hilarious!" Y/n mumbes to herself, tears beginning to well up.

"Maybe she just forgot. I mean, she's busy afterall..." The girl tried her best to convince herself that this was going to be a one time thing.

She was wrong.

Y/n bites her inner lip. It has been 2 hours since their designated sleepover. It's been weeks since Sophia had gone over to her house. So they'd been planning for a movie night. And tonight was that night. So why exactly has Sophia been ignoring her calls?

Y/n presses the call button once more, but to no avail, she was met with Sophia's voice mail for the nth time.

The popcorn was starting to get cold, and the ice cream was starting to melt. Y/n sighs. It's been two hours. Maybe she got caught up in an emergency schedule?

"Couldn't she just have told me...?" Y/n shakenly whispers to herself. This was the fourth time Sophia had stood her up this month alone.

Y/n begrudgingly placed the ice cream back in the fridge and seals the popcorn in a random container. The sound of rain keeping her grounded.

"It's okay. This will be the last time this happens."

Finally. Sophia had finally shown up to a hang out. Y/n had been waiting for the past month. The girl had greatly missed her girlfriend, and she hoped Sophia felt the same.

"Sophie! Hi!" Y/n ran up to Sophia, and hugged her as tight as she could. Afraid to let go, scared she might lose the one person able to cheer her up with a simple smile.

"Y/n! Baby! Hi, i missed you so much." Sophia hugged the girl back, and for a moment, Y/n thought,

"Finally. We're back to normal. Oh god, how I've missed my girl."

Y/n couldn't help the small but sweet smile that had formed.

It had been an hour since their hang out started, and apparently, Sophia had to go. Y/n felt sad, but knew it was her job, her dream. And Y/n would never get in the way of that.

As Sophia entered her car, Y/n bid goodbye to her girlfriend.

"Bye Sophie, miss you, and i love you." Y/n leans down for a cheek kiss, almost missing the unreadable expression Sophia had on her face.

"Yeah, bye." And with that, Sophia drives off to god knows where.

"No i love you too...? No... maybe she just forgot. It's fine." And suddenly, rain had started pouring. Y/n quickly ran for cover, but couldn't avoid looking like a somewhat wet puppy.

It was infact, not fine. It had been three months since that little mini date, and Sophia hadn't said the words "I love you". Atleast not without Y/n basically telling her to.

What went wrong? What did Y/n ever do? Did she offend Sophia? Did she do anything to form this... this gap between them?

Y/n felt so lost. So... confused. She was so sure she hadn't done anything. At least not anything she could remember. Well, she was going to find out tonight.

The door opens widely, in a swift manner. And in comes Sophia, sick and worried.

"Y/N, BABY, ARE YOU OKAY?? I came as soon as i got the text, I—" The panicked Sophia came in, expecting to see an injured or sick Y/n. But all she had found was Y/n sitting on the chair of one of her counters, with a stoic look on her face.

Sophia's breathe was heavy, like she had ran to get to Y/n's apartment.

"Why are you completely fine? You texted me it was an emergency Y/n, I was busy—!"

"Well, you always are, aren't you?" Y/n looks up to Sophia's eyes, and frustration begins to fill the Filipina.

"Excuse me? You know I'm constantly busy. For fucks sake, I'm an idol! You can't—"

"I know. I know what I signed up for, Laforteza. I know I'd never get in the way of your dreams. You would never even let me." Y/n gets off the stool, and faces her girlfriend.

"So what's your point! What, you call me here because you missed me? I was in a fucking meeting Y/n. With one of HYBE's officials!! Do you know how fucking important that is?" Sophia scratches her head in disbelief, her anger bubbling up faster than it ever has. Y/n sighs defeatedly.

"More important than me?"

Silence filled the apartment. What felt like hours were only a few measly seconds.

"The silence was more than enough, Laforteza. I'm tired. I am so fucking tired of you leaving me hanging. At first, it was a date here, a date there, but nowadays, it's like everything we plan just ends up with me waiting."

"But I'm trying Y/n! I'm trying my best for you, for my members, for my fucking dream. Why can't you just understand that?"

"Then answer this, Laforteza. When was the last time you had told me the words "I love you"? When was the last time you had willingly told me those three words."

Sophia tried to recollect, the Filipina had really tried her best. But the realization had hit her hard.

"Fucking THINK Laforteza. Give me a goddamned answer. When was the last time you had given me a sincere, loving, "I love you"?... ANSWER ME!"

"I... I can't remember...." Sophia had started tearing up. Why couldn't she fucking remember the last time she had said I love you to her own fucking girlfriend?

Y/n let out a laugh. But it wasn't the usual light and hearty laugh Sophia had always heard. This laugh sounded painful. It was like all of Y/n's vocal chords had suddenly forgotten what a laugh had sounded like.

After a few seconds, Y/n's laughing had turned into sobs.

"Do you know how many times I've had to shamefully walk out of a restaurant, or get kicked out? Sophia, everyone looked at me. Their eyes were so full of pity. The waiters and waitresses constantly checked up on me like I was some poor child, left behind by her mother. Countless times, Sophia. I endured it all, thinking it would be the last time."

Y/n's voice had started cracking, and the girl had made a face Sophia had never seen before. One filled with so much sadness, so much sorrow.

"But time and time again, you proved me wrong. Every date you stood up, every "I love you" left unanswered, destroyed me, Sophia."

"Baby... baby I'm so sorry, please—" Sophia tries to move closer to Y/n, but the girl pulls away.

"Don't. Don't ever call me baby ever again. You don't get the fucking right, Sophia."

"I'm so disappointed in you Sophia. I never thought you'd ever treat me this way. Your career may have excused a missing date or two. But seven in a row? Sophia, we've gone on three total dates for the past four month's. And we had planned seventeen. Seven fucking teen Sophia. You stood me up fourteen times, and that's only for the past four months."

"I.. please I'm so—"

"So let's end this."

"...what?"

This felt so surreal. Y/n had just asked her if they could end it. Sophia had felt her whole world crumble. She caused this? Has she really broken down the one person who had supported her through everything?

"No.. no, no we aren't. Please, just give me a chance to—"

"No, Laforteza. Get out. We're over."

Sophia laughs, hoping this was some sort of wicked sick dream.

"We aren't over Y/n. Please, I just—"

"We've been over for the past seven months, Laforteza. What we've had for those last few months was just me trying to keep us both on the same page. But a relationship requires two people. We can't keep going if your heart isn't in it, Laforteza."

Sophia couldn't help it. Her tears had burst out like there was no tomorrow. The girl hadn't cried like this for a long, long time.

"But.. but I need you Y/n, please..." At this point, the Filipina had gotten on her knees.

"No, you don't. Hell, you don't even want me. You just think you do. So please, get up and leave, before I say things I don't think I can take back."

"I can't just leave!"

"Yes you can. Leave. For the both of us, Sophie." The mention of her nickname was driving Sophia crazy.

"But I fucking love you Y/n!" .

Y/n looks at Sophia with a tired face.

"Do you really?"

Sophia looks at Y/n. A look of desperation displayed on her pretty face. Y/n hates how she's never going to see that face ever again. Hates how she's never going to kiss that pretty face to sleep ever again. Hates how those soft and comforting arms will never comfort her ever again. Hates how she will never wake up next to the love of her life ever again. Hates how Sophia will never be hers ever again. But she was okay with that. She knew it had to end one way or another. It was better this way.

And so, after more back and forth conversations, Sophia reluctantly leaves. Sophia closes the door, and Y/n locks it right after.

Y/n will never open up her heart for Sophia ever again. And the latter knows that. They were over. They were really over. Neither could believe it. The two fall to their knees, on opposite sides of the door. The sound of heavy rain masking the others cries.

Guess rainy nights were never their thing.

[hazzyking]

I have head cannons, or I think that's what they're called. This is the most I've written since I was in high school, which I can't believe was 5 years ago. Thanks, live action one piece. And Buggy simps. If it wasn't for you all, I wouldn't be writing as much as I am today 🙏🏻🤡

Buggy Body Part Headcanons

Okay, so the thing I like about Buggy is that even if he's not immeadatley near you, he can still be there. Example's:

Leaving you his dick, honestly, I feel like he'd do it as a joke expecting you to be Creeped out and never thinking you'd ever use it. And then, much like the fanfic, using it at the worst possible time

I can see him being involved in talking to someone on the ship. Then, he sees you, so he removes his hands and goes to grabs your ass from far away.

And in a fluffier fashion if your afraid of heights he'll offer you his hand to hold when you walk down the stairs or if your walking down a ladder or climbing his hand will be placed on your butt to offer you that support. And even though it's not attached to his body, it supports you well.

If you had a rough day he'll leave an ear behind so you can talk his ear off (literally) while he's working. He'd much rather be in person but this is for when he can't be with you fully.

In the morning, if he wakes up first, he will remove his head and leave his body behind so that way he doesn't wake you. This is important because I feel like he's not a fan of separating his head from his body.

To spice things up he will leave stupid parts of him behind like his hand and you'll be like "what the hell am I supposed to do with this" and then when night time comes you'll know exactly why he left it 🥴

Honestly, him leaving parts like his head or his hand or his dick is fine for me to imagine. But when it's smaller things like his ear or his lips is weird to me. But I had this cute thought like what if he suddenly had the urge to kiss you, but he couldn't get to you fast enough so his lips just float on over and kiss your hand or cheek

I can see at the beginning of your relationship with Buggy. Him leaving parts of himself behind specifically to bring you comfort is unsettling at first and probably started off as a joke but as the two of you continue together it becomes more normal and comforting to a point where if he leaves and "forgets" to leave you with any part of him, you get all upset. And he won't show it. But he will come to regret it too.

[doctorcurdlejr]

Niko!! what'd you think of I saw the tv glow. I finally saw it last night and noticed you posting about it so I wanted to know your thoughts :)

Levi!!! I was JUST wondering what you were thinking about the movie after I saw you posting about it as well... we are so media discussion pilled in this way, it's awesome. ANYWAYS I've had so many thoughts since I first saw it and I've been trying to turn them into something coherent for a little bit now.

Ummm okay I have written 1k+ words about this movie, the suburbs, and escapism via teen TV.... clearly I was dying for somebody to ask this I guess so thank you for indulging me <3

First and foremost, I absolutely loved it! I've seen it twice now and the first time I watched it I got to see Jane Schoenbrun talk about the film right after. I already really liked it from that first watch alone. I found it so deeply relatable to my experiences - both in terms of growing up gay and trans, but where I am now in my 20s trying to navigate adulthood. Hearing what Schoenbrun had to say really cemented my feelings and thoughts about the film.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a big influence on the movie (it's why Amber Benson makes a cameo as Johnny Link's mom). Even though I don't have the same emotional link to Buffy since I never watched it, I recognize it as the same type of warmth I experienced growing up with Riverdale. When Owen says he feels like his insides have been scooped out but that he's too afraid to look and have that wrongness everybody knows is there be confirmed, Maddy simply responds "Maybe you're like Isabel. Afraid of what's inside you." Tears forming but not falling, breathing shallowly, I grabbed the paper and pen the theater keeps at the seats for people to order food with and wrote that line down - the slip of paper is still somewhere in my car. Writing it now almost feels lame in its simplicity, but it felt like my insides were being flayed open.

During the director discussion, Schoenbrun talked a little bit about this idea of how truly fucking bizarre it is to grow up in the suburbs. Like, when we think about the pinnacle of normality in American culture, it's the image of middle-class cis-hetero-white suburbia. At the same time, despite this cultural dream of normality, everybody is hyper-aware that the suburbs are one of the least normal things ever. So, the ACTUAL cultural understanding of it is that it's where we go to, like, passively kill ourselves (*George Costanza voice* WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY YOU KNOW!). This idea isn't new, I mean there are so many films and shows about navigating that specific bizarre dissonance from Rebel Without a Cause to Heathers to Twin Peaks. Probably half the pre-teen to teen TV I watched obsessively growing up, stuff like Strange Days at Blake Holsey High, Making Fiends, Truth or Scare, and eventually Riverdale, were never shy about being weird and morbid and saying "yes, the suburbs are exactly as bizarre and lethal in the ways you can already feel in your bones at 13." I Saw the TV Glow does a really good job of keying not only into that mental dissonance but more specifically into how those of us who have felt so intrinsically weird and different and wrong fell back on these shows like they were capable of doing the emotional version of a rescue breath maneuver after being drowned.

In high school, if there were two things about me that any person who even vaguely knew me could list off it was that I watched Riverdale, and I was a lesbian - and I was mocked more for the Riverdale. At that age, I was, without a doubt, the most miserable I have ever felt in my life. I rarely left the house because my family lived in a development that made me want to scratch my skin off when I walked out our front door. Owen didn't leave the house for days, afraid Maddy could somehow force him out. I sobbed constantly and frequently to depressing indie rock on the floor of my closet while hoping my family would just once read the (honest to god) KEEP OUT poster plastered on my door since I didn't have a lock on it. Owen didn't leave his room for days, afraid of what Maddy recognized in him. I didn't go on dates and kept my chest binder shoved to the bottom of my bookbag while wearing dresses that could've come from a how-to-be the perfect 50s housewife manual. Owen didn't leave his bed for days, afraid of Maddy touching his neck and Isabel's dress. I also watched Riverdale with the kind of zeal you see in a Pentecostal who has found God and started speaking in tongues to let you know it. I own a button that says, "Don't Make Me Go Dark Betty On You," I cherish it in a way that is only achieved by knowing exactly how corny and trite it is and then moving straight past that because well actually, and most people wouldn't get this, she's holding back something deeply dark and wild and- and disgusting. something painful yet intrinsically her. but i get it, obviously. or maybe not obviously! hopefully not obviously, but- basically, I'm just saying I get it: the experience of reflection and recognition through the other and all that.

Whatever, the point is that this movie is one big glaring trans allegory about how it sucks dog shit to live in the suburbs, and even at our most repressed we find these little snow globes of actualization in the glow of a tv screen that isn't afraid to show you the world you see. I've seen some people say that, like, in this context accepting or coming into your transness is this monumental death of self, which I get, but I feel there lacks a nuance in that because either way Owen is dying. Unlike Maddy who buries herself alive only to come out renewed, Owen doesn't kill himself upon facing the reality that the world is constructed to keep him miserable and the only way out is to take back what it is that the world wants to keep scooped out of him. Instead he just passively lets it drag him to a much more permanent death. This lack of suicide sucks in the kind of way that forces you to sit in your car on the midnight drive home and think to yourself am I letting myself suffocate because at some point knowing the misery became less scary than admitting I've been capable of doing something about it the whole time?

Clearly, I’ve been enchanted by the film’s narrative and meta-textual language. If you're familiar with it, you can see how Schoenbrun built this movie like a long-form dream episode of a canceled teen show filmed in Vancouver. Lynchian? Yeah, sure. Riverdalesque? THIS we cannot possibly deny. Schoenbrun said they included Amber Benson as an act of healing the inner rage experienced at Tara’s death in Buffy. This is a Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa ending Riverdale with a bisexual polycule after his gay Archie play got ceased-and-desisted type move. There’s probably more I could say about the soundtrack and the visuals, but I’ve hit over 1k words on this, so I’ll leave it at I enjoyed this movie a lot. :)

Maddy is an out lesbian who left town to escape the misery and found it strapped to her ankles. She slinks out, an animal pressed against the gymnasium floor, and says "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." Owen looks into the camera and narrates. He cuts himself open with a box cutter, fully acknowledges what's there, and the movie ends with his suffocating apology parade for the unremarkable inconvenience of his excruciating suffering. You can be gay and trans, you can know it and you can stop repressing it, but you're not going to stop suffocating until you can find a way to destroy the part of you that truly deeply does want to die, reaching for the comforting euthanasia of normalcy. Stop visiting the dream of the life you want and make it into your reality with the same kind of unrepentant conviction seen in some underfunded but wildly ambitious teen television series. In other words: you must try to survive the ego death of being weird. A weirdo, who doesn't fit in and doesn't want to fit in!

[becauseimanicequeen]

My Semi-Coherent Thoughts About Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo So Far (ep. 1-6)

This is a response to some asks I got after this week's ep. 5 and 6, and some additional thoughts from me. I'll mostly throw some random points out there because I've been living in right-brain-land for most of this week (or weeks? What's time anyway, eh?), so being coherent seems like too much of a challenge right now, lol. But this post needs to be written so I can stop thinking about it and focus on something else.

Let's start with two Anons who dropped into my inbox with comments of the same context: that Dohoi was an asshole and that I wouldn't be able to defend him anymore...

Clearly, Anons, you seemed to have completely missed the point of my previous posts where I said I was neutral (I still am) and refused to go into a discussion about taking sides because that's not where the interesting bits are (not for me, anyway).

I'm on both their sides and on no one's side.

Juyeong and Dohoi have both made mistakes:

Juyeong lied about Dohoi's dad abusing him

Dohoi pretended to not know about it

Juyeong chose to stand up to Dohoi's dad even though he knew that man was a violent piece of shit

Dohoi called the police, afraid he wouldn't be able to focus on his exam, but he couldn't focus anyway

None of them communicated any of this to the other in the past

Etc.

To say that Dohoi is the asshole while Juyeong is an angel is completely ignoring an important point: nothing is ever black or white. (Yes, this is just fiction, but it's a realistic piece of fiction that shows this very point.)

Also, to think that only one of them has/does suffer is a very one-sided way of looking at it. To be fair, it's easy to fall into that trap since we're getting a lot of Juyeong's pov at the moment while Dohoi's story is still kept in the dark.

But imagine how much of a self-sabotager you are for choosing to push away people who love you because you inherently believe that you will never be good enough or will never be worthy of love. Dohoi has been in so much pain for such a long time it's familiar to him. It takes years, decades, maybe even a whole lifetime to climb out of a hole like that. And he might've been able to do that on his own if Juyeong hadn't shown up at the funeral and reminded him of all the things from the past once again.

One of the Anons then proceeded to list all the ways Juyeong was abandoned and that Dohoi did the exact same thing to him, which made Dohoi even more of an asshole...

I can't help but wonder if we've seen the same show.

Because Dohoi was abandoned too.

They’re both dealing with abandonment issues.

None of them had present parent growing up

Juyeong was adopted, which will always be a wound for him (and being adopted by those kinds of parents didn’t make it any better)

I can’t quite remember if they mentioned that Dohoi’s mom died or left but, either way, both can lead to abandonment issues (especially when a child is forced to go through it)

Then we have Hyeonho who turned from Dohoi's friend to his bully (again, Dohoi was abandoned)

When shit went down in the past, Juyeong left with his parents, and while that was a valid reason, it was yet another person who left Dohoi (which, to be fair, made Dohoi indirectly responsible since he called the police)

And then Juyeong was abandoned by Dohoi who went radio silent for years

They are both dealing with abandonment issues. Just because the show, at this point, is mostly focusing on the effects of Dohoi abandoning Juyeong doesn’t mean Dohoi wasn’t abandoned as well. Because he was. It’s mentioned and shown in subtle ways throughout the show.

Being abandoned can be a huge trauma for a person (especially for kids who don't have the tools to deal with important people leaving or dying). And we all have different trauma responses, which I think is another interesting point of this show:

Juyeong’s trauma response is to fight (he did so when he stood up for Dohoi against the bullies in the past, when he chose to stand up against Dohoi’s dad, but also when he physically punched a teacher)

Dohoi’s trauma response is flight (he tried to ignore that Juyeong was abused by his dad, he never put up a fight even when he was beaten by the bullies, he left after he threatened his dad with a knife, etc.)

None of those is a "better"/"worse" response

These characters are both traumatized for fuck's sake

And, the thing is, we've seen time and time again that the last thing Dohoi wants is to fight. He reacts even to the mere mention of it.

Juyeong fighting (even though it's never physical with Dohoi) won’t give him the results he wants from Dohoi.

And Juyeong, who was abandoned by his birth parents, adopted by a couple who didn't seem to want him anyway, and might think that no one ever fought for him, will always be hurt by Dohoi avoiding things.

They are each other's opposites even though they're dealing with a similar type of trauma.

And they won’t be able to be happy with each other (or with themselves, which is, honestly, more important) until they deal with their own trauma.

(Also, I don’t know about you, but Hwang Daseul choosing to use these contrasting trauma responses for these boys is fucking genius to me because there's so much potential for angst, which we've gotten a whole 3-course meal of. I'm well fed at this table and I won't be leaving any time soon, lol.)

One of the Anons also briefly mentioned Dohoi's old home and how he should just sell it to Juyeong because it was the only place where Juyeong was happy, and I...

*Sigh*

I'll have to admit that this was the first time in the show that my neutrality was tested because... If you can watch the following scene without feeling empathy for Dohoi, you're (no judgment) colder than me (a certified ice queen):

Imagine going back to the place where you were abused all those years. Dohoi took one look at the place, and his past traumas and emotions about what happened came pouring back. I'm not surprised he wants to sell it. Hell, if I was him, I'd want to decimate the place. But, instead, he has to deal with Juyeong wanting to buy it even though Juyeong knows what went down in that house.

If Juyeong wants to keep it "as is" to make sure Dohoi doesn't regret selling the place, Juyeong is delulu. If he wants to buy it and build something new, that's different. But we don't know what he wants yet. We don't really know why he's so intent on buying the place (other than not wanting Dohoi to regret it).

Either way, that whole situation made me feel a bit weird about Juyeong. Buying the place where the person you loved experienced trauma? What the actual fuck? And I'm not surprised that Dohoi is feeling some kind of way about it (and if he still thinks it's because Juyeong feels some kind of loyalty or guilt towards his dad, that's so fucking sad).

I do think the place is important to the rest of the story, though. It's the place where theirs began. It's the place where they loved and lost and were abused. It's the place that contains the events they both need to reconcile and deal with before moving on.

Which leads me to my speculations of where this might be going in the last two episodes. Because I think Juyeong will take Dohoi to his old home. Especially since the search history on the GPS in the car he rented included it.

That place will always be an open wound for them until they deal with the past, so Dohoi can stop running from it and Juyeong can stop living in it.

It was also the place where Dohoi's walls crumbled for the first time since the time jump, so Juyeong might think that's the best place to deal with the shit once and for all.

Walden Law Firm was also in the GPS search history, which is where Hyeonho works. My guess is that Juyeong has already gone to see Hyeonho when he meets up with Dohoi at the end of the 6th episode. Whatever might've gone down in that meeting (Juyeong saying Dohoi broke it off again, Juyeong demanding to know what happened with Dohoi during the past 12 years, Hyeonho spilling the beans, or whatever), it might be the reason why Hyeonho called Dohoi to say they needed to talk.

Then there's the biggest question of all the questions I have, which is about what happened to Dohoi during those 12 years. If Dohoi didn't graduate (at least not as an architect), how did he gain everything he now has?

In regards to college, I don't think it was anything more dramatic than him not managing to have the right results on the entrance exam. Math is an essential part of architecture, and we've already seen that math wasn't Dohoi's forte.

About his apparent wealth, though. As I mentioned before, I can't remember if they mentioned whether Dohoi's mom died or left. But, if she left, there might've been some inheritance if she eventually died, which could also be how he and Hyeonho met (since these things, more often than not, require lawyers).

If that's true, feeling that his wealth was "unearned" might be a reason he lied about the floorplans to that house. (Btw, I can't believe Juyeong didn't call Dohoi's bluff because I would've called him out on his bullshit so fucking fast, lol.)

I think it's also a part of his facade to pretend that he was okay all those years even though he was suffering (which I'm sure we'll see more of in the coming episodes).

But I also feel like there's something more. More to the reason he didn't study architecture and more to how he gained his wealth. And definitely more to what was going on between Dohoi and Hyeonho and how involved Hyeonho has been the past 12 years.

There's still so much of Dohoi's story to be revealed, and I can't wait to see it all unfold.

[hunter-sylvester]

Skullflower is Autistic: A Breakdown.

Buckle the fuck up.

Disclaimer: Don't take any of this too seriously.

Also all of this was written over a year ago with only minor edits. I'm just posting it now cause it's been rotting in my drafts and, like, fuck it.

I've wanted to try and make a comprehensive breakdown like this for a while just because I love these characters and very heavily interpret them all as autistic (with ADHD as well.) But this is just the perspective of one guy. And I probably overstate it but the fact that we can all have our own very personal interpretations about media is what's great about analysis & fandom.

Hunter Sylvester.

Yes I'm doing Hunter first, what do you think I am? Unbiased? Please.

Autistic Perfectionism. Hunter's autistic perfectionism is something I've mentioned before and somewhat struggle to describe satisfactorily. But to me the most obvious example is his inability to deal with the idea of Emily joining Skullfucker as a cellist. Obviously, there's the queer angle to this but I think two reasons can play a role at once. He's in love with Kevin so he doesn't want a girl that Kevin picked to be a part of their band. Additionally, I'd argue that he can't deal with the idea of having a girl cellist as their bass player because it in NO WAY fits the mental image that Hunter has in his mind of what he wanted Skullfucker to be. It doesn't match the perfect idea that he's dreamed of, that he holds onto for dear life, so he can't deal with it.

Hyperfixations. "Hunter's been into a lot of things since I've known him but he's stuck with metal longer than any of them." - Kevin. Need I say more? Well, I will anyway. The guy hyperfixates. I think the closest thing we have to a canon confirmed hyperfixation is Dungeons & Dragons. Because of what in my mind is a combination of Autism and ADHD in Hunter, they don't fully leave him. He still likes and plays D&D, but he's not as obsessed with it as he used to be when he made his dad buy him the most ridiculous game terrain that fucking lights up.

Special Interests. I think one of the easiest claims to make is that metal is a special interest for Hunter. He entrenches his entire life in it and reaches for it when a stressful situation happens to try and make himself feel more okay. (getting his hair cut off by Skip and relating his new look to Jason Newsted) It's clearly something that comforts him, having been obsessed with it ever since his mom left. Which, regardless of the specific circumstances, is a horridly stressful situation for any 12-13 year old.

Struggles with social interaction. He doesn't seem to have a lot of friends. He gets along with Robbie, Kevin (obviously) and the people he plays D&D with but that seems to be it. Especially whenever the situation gets very stressful, Hunter's mind immediately reaches for his comfort interest to try and make it through (or to lash out). He can't easily just be comfortable in a strange social situation. Or a strange situation in general.

Stims. Hunter stims by playing guitar. That's it, that's the whole point. And there's this little move:

Kevin Schlieb.

Neutrality. The way Kevin just takes Hunter and Emily as they are feels autistic to me.

Struggles with social interaction. And he clearly wants it to be easier for him. He wants to connect to people but he doesn't know how. It's not like he doesn't understand people. He does. He understands Hunter better than Hunter understands himself. "sometimes he's not so nice to people when he's uncomfortable" "You are afraid of everybody" "you treat everybody like shit and you make them hate you" But that understanding of how people think and work doesn't translate to his direct interactions with most of his peers. Maybe because he understands other neurodivergent people but not neurotypicals. The fact he does have a decent read on, at the very least, his best friend could also be indicative of the extra work Kevin has had to put in over the course of his life to try and understand people to begin with.

Directness. A lot of Kevin does feel direct to me. I suppose in a 'what you see is what you get' sort of way. He obviously has the whole protagonist thing going on which tends to end you up with pretty neutral, earnest and open characters.

Stims:

Emily Spector.

Gets overstimulated. Emily's outbursts could be attributed more to a struggle regulating her emotions. It's not a huge stretch to assume her mystery medication is a mood stabilizer. However, the idea of it being a combination of being overstimulated and then no longer being able to deal with her anger on top of the distress she's already feeling feels apt to me. This is a stretch, but, we only ever see her have outbursts at school. A nightmare environment for the stimuli sensitive. Emily is by far the character out of the main three we spend the least time with, which could easily explain my previous point away. We hardly see her out of school to begin with. But I think there can be merit in taking it as a part of the story, rather than an incidental effect of her being left by the wayside.

Black and white thinking. "So first you tell me that I should hate him, and now you want me to help him?" - Emily. No, he didn't say you should hate him, Emily. "You have every right to be mad- especially at Hunter!" - Kevin.

Directness. I mean she literally calls up Kevin to ask him if he wants to go fuck in a parking lot and more power to her. But it is very direct.

Struggles with social interaction. And apart from Skip & Co. having a particular hate-boner for Hunter, Emily might actually be the most widely ostracized for her lack of social finesse. Which would check out because society is brutally cruel to girls. Kevin is shown to have some positive interaction outside of the other two main characters, so is Hunter. And, yes, so is Emily. But it's only with the janitor of the school, who she is implied to have had previous interactions with. Having your only friend at school be the fucking janitor is not a neurotypical experience. I know I certainly got along easier with a handful of teachers than I did with my peers back when I was at school.

Whatever this is. Fam, I've BEEN there...but it's not neurotypical:

A 'little' note to end on: I want to state that I love all three of these character very dearly. I don't pretend that I don't have a favorite, but they are all amazing. There's various reasons why Metal Lords is such a comforting movie, but a big one, is that the characters act in a way that feels incredibly familiar. They act like me. They act like my autistic friends. We make weird facial expressions, we understand the world and each other through our interests. The way all of them talk feels so close to home. (The swearing is actually part of that. A lot of real people swear and over-censoring of that tends to bug me but that's kinda beside the point lmao)

[landoscaring]

landoscar fic masterlist

my amazing takes have garnered me a few new followers, so i thought i'd create a bit of a masterlist for the fics i've written for these two maniacs that perhaps you'd like to read, if you're so inclined (if not, that's okay! you can keep enjoying my frankly incredible takes, will buxton i am COMING for you in the cleanest of ways).

Edit: this started out small with just a few fics but now it's quite big, so, read below:

greet me with goodbye (completed, 3/3) (memory loss fic) (E)

Oscar is more than used to speed, for obvious reasons.

Speed has been a constant in his life, even as a child. His mom, embarrassingly, likes to tell people that as a kid he’d pretend to act like a car, revving up and down his house like a madman. He remembers his first karting competition, the confidence that flowed through his veins and the adrenaline of thinking he was the fastest 10-year-old to ever exist. He’s still confident, he has to be, in order to make it in this sport, but he’s had years to refine his technique, understand his car, and finesse his driving so he can achieve the speed he needs to win a race. His speed on track has earned him a spot in the most exclusive grid on the planet, a process that was fast-tracked itself when he made the move to McLaren, shocking the motorsport world as he did.

And yet.

a landoscar soundtrack (series) (4 parts/?)

we might as well be strangers (3/3) (what you need to know: oscar-moves-to-a-different-team-and-lando-has-feelings fic) (E)

Lando really should’ve known better than to get attached.

Scratch that.

He should’ve known better than to fall in love with a teammate. Again.

maps (1/1) (what you need to know: oscar is one jealous dude and has a lot of thoughts about it) (M)

Oscar’s never really thought of himself as a jealous person. His mom jokes that he’d been a pretty chill baby, and that even when his younger sisters came along, he never really fought for his parents’ attention, which at first worried his parents, afraid that he’d simply been building on his rage and would throw a fit eventually. But no, not really, Oscar had just been content with being there, watching the world around him with wide, observant eyes. So long as they let him read his car magazines and zoom around his house pretending to be a Ferrari, he was fine with having his younger sisters around.

only to live in your memories (1/1) (what you need to know: oscar yearns, lando flirts, it all comes crashing down at danny ric's wedding) (E)

“I think Ozzy here is not telling us something, mate,” George conspires, and Alex hiccups through a laugh before he stands, wobbly, and walks closer to where Oscar’s standing.

“Out with it, you rascal,” says Alex, hand aiming for Oscar’s shoulder but landing somewhere on his collarbone instead.

Oscar can’t help laughing at the ridiculous display in front of him and decides to simply accept his fate and tell them, as good-naturedly as he can: “Pretty sure he’s somewhere around here hooking up with Daniel’s sister.”

He’d thought his pals’ reactions would range from vulgar remarks to crude gestures, jokes at Daniel’s expense, that sort of thing. Instead, his announcement is met with drunk pity. They both look like they kicked a puppy, and the puppy is Oscar.

This is precisely why he’d been pretending to be drunk. So that they could maintain the guise of not remembering the next day and doing it all over again at the next wedding.

kisses (5/?) (what you need to know: post-race fics to heal or destroy, there is no in-between) (E)

chapter 1: zandvoort ('24)

chapter 2: monza ('24)

chapter 3: austin ('24)

chapter 4: mexico ('24)

chapter 5: melbourne ('25)

never break the chain (4/5) (what you need to know: lando and oscar hate each other because of a racing incident when they were kids! but then they're teammates! oh no!) (E)

Zac looks at Lando, then at Oscar, and then back at Lando. “You need to sort this out, stat. I’m not having this –”

“What are you going on about? We’re golden, Oscar and I,” Lando bristles. “Practically besties, aren’t we, Osco?”

Lando knows using his old nickname for Oscar is a low blow, if his expression is anything to go by. But whatever. He’s fed up with this, and he wants Oscar as far away from him as possible, so if it hurts him, good.

Zac is turning red, and his mouth is opening, surely to remind Lando of his place, but Oscar beats him to it. He stands, inclines his head politely in Zac’s direction, and steps directly in front of Lando’s chair. His jaw is set, eyes cold. Lando has never seen him angry, had thought him incapable of it.

“I wasn’t expecting much, but I definitely thought you’d at least grown the fuck up,” he sneers. “Clearly, I was wrong. And for the record, you crashed into me. Thank you, Zac, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

secret's a blinking light (1/1) (what you need to know: fake marriage! oh no! lando needs to stay in australia what will oscar do!) (M)

So, he thinks he surprises himself and his sister Hattie and every single person he’s ever interacted with when he says, “I’ll marry you” to Lando Norris one Thursday afternoon in late May.

(He can blame it on George’s and Alex’s pestering, that.)

Lando seems surprised, too, but he recovers quickly.

como te vas (1/1) (what you need to know: lando eats oscar's choco bunny. oscar is looking for it. chaos ensues) (T)

Oscar, who’s pacing around the room with a confused expression adorning his face. His gorgeous, kissable face. Lando quickly forgets about the stupid fucking game and instead starts to plan his attack. He could launch himself from here, probably. Oscar would catch him. Or. Well. He could also fall flat on his face, and everyone knows that’s like, 78% of his whole charm or whatever. Anyway.

He calculates. Closes one eye. Turns his head sideways. Oscar’s still pacing the room, rummaging through the discarded clothing on the floor; the mess on his bedside table.

Lando rolls his eyes.

“Something missing?”

new romance (ilysfm) (3/3) (what you need to know: oh no they get accidentally married in vegas! but then they talk about it! it's cool!) (E)

There’s a beat of silence, and Lando just has to know, he needs to know, so he asks: “Do you remember anything?”

Oscar shakes his head slowly. He lifts a hand, then starts enumerating: “I remember the podium, debrief, hotel, taxi, club, Max, some horrible dancing, tequila –”

“That’s what I—,” Lando starts to say, relieved and disappointed at the same time, and then there’s a glint of something on Oscar’s hand, and instead he says, “fucking hell, what the fuck.”

Oscar splutters, his eyes darting around the room and across Lando’s body quickly in search of damage. “Wha—?”

“We’re both wearing rings,” and Lando’s head is spinning, but something tells him he’s right. “We’re in Vegas. We’re both wearing rings in Vegas, Oscar.”

i just want you for my own (1/4) (what you need to know: secret-santa-exchange-at -the-office landoscar! they are secretly in love! santa fixes it!) (M)

Los Boyos

Today

Georgie (affectionate) [12:03 PM]:

Hohoho, mateys.

Albonito [12:04 PM]:

? good afternoon?

Albonito [12:06 PM]:

…well go on george don’t leave us hanging mate

Georgie (affectionate) [12:07 PM]:

Apologies. Ocon needed some help with the printer.

Georgie (affectionate) [12:08 PM]:

just overheard lewis and seb in the lounge room. apparently nando wants the whole floor to partake in a secret santa exchange. details to come.

Lando [12:09 PM]:

mint. is that the one were you steal peoples gifts i love that game

december '24 (or, a landoscar fever dream) (series, 4 parts)

you know how to ball (i know aristotle) (1/1) (what you need to know: post wcc 2024, landoscar finally do something about it) (E).

Oscar tries not to stare at Lando as he moves through the crowd, at the graceful sway of his hips, the delicate set of his shoulders. He sees how he places his hands over people’s backs, shoulders, arms, head tipped back in delight, lips stretched thin in a smile that radiates self-assuredness and confidence. A finally. Someone reaches over to adjust Oscar’s cap and he grins in their direction, hoping they can’t see where his eyes had been. Andrea catches his eye on the way down, though, and there’s a glint there that lets Oscar know he’s been caught on. He laughs, shrugs one shoulder. Andrea rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face never falters.

it's night time (time to play) (1/1) (what you need to know: fia gala + plus one allegations +strip poker +mile high club) (E).

Oscar almost forgets about the whole thing until Lando messages him three days later, asking him what he’s up to.

Not much, mate, I think I’m still hungover.

lmao lightwait. did you think about my offer

What offer?

to come to ruanda with me

Oh. Right. So he hadn’t imagined that whole exchange.

Not sure I’m what they mean when they say you can have a plus one, Lando.

wdym? your my mate

and you won the thing to like

plus ill be so bored osc come on

in your eyes (i see and feel it all) (1/1) (what you need to know: galex conspires to gift landoscar a padel date) (T)

Friends, Lando thinks, are overrated.

His certainly are, anyway.

Specifically, those who think they’re being coy by setting him up on a padel date with his teammate. Whom they know he’s been in love with for the better part of the year. And who remains painfully clueless about the whole thing.

He’d approached him, at the end of the season, holding up his padel coupons from Alex with a hopeful, knowing glint in his eye. The news of their conspicuously identical secret santa gifts had traveled fast across the paddock. Max had laughed, loudly, and clapped a hand over Lando’s shoulder in what Lando thinks was his idea of commiseration. Maybe, Oscar had said, floppy brown hair blowing gently back in the Qatari air, once it’s warm back at home, we could…and Lando had nodded before he’d even finished the sentence.

He regrets that moment, thoroughly and completely.

there's a hole in you and me (that pulls us together) (1/1) (what you need to know: lando says oscar's name on stream) (M)

He listens to Max ramble on and complain about the lag, and soon enough they’re playing. Lando ignores the chat and focuses on the mission. But then the guy next to him, his partner, takes a wrong turn and Lando says, without thinking, “On the right, Osca—Connor, on the right.”

And yeah, he knows how that’s going to go. Max is quiet, but he sees him subtly shake his head at him. Lando double checks that he’s not needed and turns around to find Oscar looking at him from the bed, mouth quirked up.

“Did you just –”

Lando nods, sheepish. It’s not like they’re a complete secret, even. They haven’t exactly been quiet about it. Their friends know, and the team, too. But –yeah, it’s not public-public, yet.

[justabigoldnerd]

Its been a minute since I've done this one!!! Thank you so much @willtheweaver for the tag!!!

My Words: Laugh, puppet, forbidden, devour

Your Words: Kit, ribbon, loose, interest

Laugh - "So Make Your Siren's Call"

A handful of locals and contract fishermen sit in tight circles at tables in the tavern below the inn, undoubtedly just getting started on their night of drinking. They laugh and conspire, swapping embellished true stories and relaying old tales that Illya would have just a few days ago written off as legends. The smell of food reminds his stomach that he hasn't eaten a proper meal in seventy-two hours, and he loiters by the bar where a sturdy older woman serves a pair of greenhorns fresh glasses of beer. Illya is about to speak up to ask what's on the menu today, but he's halted by the crackly voice of a local just a table away. “I swear on me mammy's grave, God rest her soul, the bugger was the length of my goddamned boat, I ain't jokin’! And it's face, by God, it's fuckin’ face,” the words devolve into a sort of manic laughter, “It had the face of the most beautiful woman I ever did lay me own eyes on, it did. Would’a pulled me right under if me Da ‘aden’t o’ been there.” “Hiram, you tell this story every bleedin’ year,” this voice is younger, Irish, “It weren't a mermaid ye saw, they aren't real.” “Yeah, you probably got up close an’ personal wit’ a bloody dolphin!” a third cackles, sparking a chain reaction that has the whole table laughing. “Can I getcha somethin’, lovie?” The proximity of the older woman's voice startles him and he has to collect his sanity, catch his breath. “Da, sorry,” he breathes, turning all the way to face her, “Uhm, you have something light? Quick.”

Puppet - "Are You Afraid? (However Could You Not Be?)"

A smile spread across Illya's face, even as he squinted at the brightness of a midday sun. He had never seen a sky so brilliantly blue. Turning back to Solo, he transplanted some of that sunshine into the man's tired expression. His eyes glittered like waves. Gone was that starving, otherworldly glow trapped inside. Solo wasn't a husk, anymore, a puppet. He was human. He was free. So, faced with this new look of hopeful uncertainty, Illya did the only thing that felt natural; He kissed him.

Forbidden - "Religion Leaves a Bitter Taste"

“I am sorry,” he hisses, dusting off the crucifix, “Mama, I am sorry. I did not mean to.” As he makes his way to the bedroom door, he knows the nearly inaudible, ‘I know, little paw,’ in his mother's voice is only in his head. Before he knows what he's doing, Illya finds himself standing in the doorway of his parents’ bedroom. His father is still in his office, but crossing the threshold still feels wrong. Forbidden.  He does it anyway.

Devour - "Everything's Got a Price"

“You were slow.” Illya's rumbled accusation should have made Solo flinch. Instead, it summons a cat-like grin to his face. He makes a show of flipping the lock, then faces the Russian, who is leaning against an HVAC box with his arms crossed. “Well your security was a little too–,” Solo starts, but Illya cuts him off by turning him by the lapels of his jacket and slamming him into the wall. Pain sears in his back, blooming across his shoulders. He hisses and writhes, caught between the damp, hard brick and the force of Illya's insanely strong arms holding him in place. For a moment, he worries he has given his life in search of sweet release, that Illya was deadly serious about his displeasure at his father's contracting. But then Illya's mouth is hot and rough on his and the hiss of pain melts into a moan of pleasure. Illya trades fabric for hair and claws at Solo's scalp. He kisses like he wants to devour him, and by God, Solo would let him.

No pressure tagging @huggiebird @happybean17 @falling-into-peril @heytheredeann @pippinoftheshire

@bighandsforabigheart @kcscribbler @mybelovedillya @cha-melodius @the-golden-comet

@thattripleabattery @too-young-to-fall-in-love @times-up-alone-tonight @vnyu73 @nicijones

@prettyboynapoleonsolo @fandom-meet-fanthem @agreeableartist

And an Open Tag for anyone else who wants to join!!!💕💕💕💕

[lizthewriter]

Hi! I love your fan fictions! I was wondering (First time requesting ever) if you could do a FIC for Mattheo or Theodore based on exile and the readers dealing with self hate,anxiety, autsim, adhd, Depression, and they feel so alone and push him away because the readers scared to accept her feelings and afraid she’ll get left, and no one loves or cares about her?

AUTHOR'S NOTE Oh my God, thank you so much for sending in a request! This is actually the first request I have ever received, so this is a first for us both! By exile, I'm assuming you mean the song exile by Taylor Swift. Here's a little blurb just for you anon! And thank you for the compliment, I'm glad you love my fanfics! Sending love and good vibes your way

Honestly, I tried my best with this. I've gone through depression and self-hate, and I am currently dealing with anxiety and ADHD. I don't know too much about autism, but I really tried my hardest to convey what you've requested. I hope this is satisfactory!

exile / mattheo riddle

PAIRING Mattheo Riddle x fem!Reader

SUMMARY Everything in your life feels like it's going wrong and there's nothing you can do to change it. What once brought you joy only leaves you numb. What once excited you now only bored you. What you loved only saw you as a friend.

Taking shelter in an empty classroom during a panic attack, Mattheo Riddle finds you a sobbing mess on the stone floors. You find out that he likes you more than you think he does.

TAGS Mattheo Riddle x fem!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, self-hate, depression, anxiety, stress, ADHD, autism, exams, panic attack, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, fluff, happy ending, kissing

"All this time, / we always walked a very thin line, / you didn't even hear me out," - exile, Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver

WORD COUNT 2.0K

WRITTEN 23.08.2023

pt. 2 here, karma

You sat in Transfiguration, leg bouncing nervously as you stared down at the test questions. You have always been a terrible test-taker - all the pressure of having to get good marks in such a limited time period and all this weight on your shoulders with the upcoming NEWT's made you more than nervous. Your brows were furrowed in both concentration and confusion. As you were gnawing on the end of your quill, McGonagall announced that it was time for you to place your quills down and pack your things. You let out a shaky sigh, placing down your quill. How could you not answer a simple question? Everyone else seemed to be finding the material easy, why couldn't you? You sat there, beating yourself up as you quickly packed your things away and left class.

You left Transfiguration by yourself and headed back to your dorm. Not only were you doing poorly in your classes, you also happened to be insanely in love with someone in your year. And, of course, you had to fall in love with the most unavailable person. Not only was he not interested in girls, he would never be interested in someone like you. I mean, why would he? What made you so special? And he has referred to you as a mate on so many occasions that if you had a nickel for every one, you'd surely be drowning in an ocean of them. Oh, and not only that, but you didn't really have friends. Most of the people you knew were dating and had at least one best friend. But you? No, you may know a variety of people but you couldn't call any of them a good friend, even. You didn't understand what you were doing wrong. Why was everyone else living happy, productive lives while you were stuck being miserable, alone, and depressed?

I mean, you lost all interest in everything. You couldn't find the joy in reading or taking walks about the grounds anymore. Your schoolwork was taking a turn for worse and you found yourself and bored and tired of your classes. Your grades were slipping, you had no friends, no partner, no nothing. Everything just felt wrong, wrong, wrong. And all you could do was sit there and blame yourself.

You knew you wouldn't be able to make it to your dorm to find the privacy to cry- you quickly ducked into the nearest room, curled up into the corner, and burst into sobs. It was all just too much and too little at the same time. You just felt like you couldn't deal with all this anymore. If you didn't deserve to be happy, than maybe you didn't deserve to be at all. Your hands bunched up into fists, lightly hitting your head at your temples. You hated your thoughts, the way your brain worked. You hated how you could think about everything all at once. You just wanted it all to stop, all to end.

You didn't hear the sounds of footsteps passing the classroom - Mattheo had only been walking by, skipping out on Potions, when he heard you. When he glanced into the classroom and saw you crying there, he couldn't help himself.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

You froze, sniffling, your chest heaving for air. You hadn't heard him and was caught off guard. Quickly, you wiped your face with the edge of your sleeve, collecting your bag from the ground and hiking it up your shoulder. "Nothing - nothing's wrong."

He ducked his head, his lips set into a thin-line as he observed you. "I'm not stupid. I can see that you're crying."

Great. Now you had offended the only person, perhaps, that even cared to talk to you for more than five minutes. He must hate you right now. Depise you. Think you to be cruel. "I didn't mean to say you were stupid." It was hard to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over the threshold. You wiped your eyes with the end of your sleeve again. Why should he care about you? He must be pitying you now, surely he would have no other reason to act so concerned. Even if he did, he would one day realize that you were never as good as he thought you.

His gaze softened, the edges of his lips curling up slightly. He approached you, raising his hand to wipe away a tear that had collected in the inner corner of your eye. "'S all right, darling. Don't cry. Just talk with me about it, hm?"

Your chest heaved as you took in a shaky breath. "W-why do you care? I'm sure you have better things to do." You let out a weak laugh, backing away from his touch. "I mean, come on, don't you have Potions right now?"

"Why do I - I care about you. Do you need a reason why?"

"Yes, I do, actually," you responded, cringing at how snarky you sounded.

Mattheo let out a sigh. "I care about you because you're beautiful, inside and out. I care about you because you make me laugh. And you make me feel better when I've had a shit day. I care about you because no one makes my heart flutter like you do." His voice got smaller as he took a step towards you, and gradually raised his hands to cup your cheeks. He drew your gaze to his eyes, those beautiful brown eyes. His expression was rather serious, as though he were trying to affirm his words. "I care about you cause you're the only person who's ever really cared about me."

You trembled beneath the soft caress of his knuckcles, meeting his eyes for a short moment before shoving him away. A brief moment of hurt echoed through his eyes as you shook your head, backing away from him. "No, no you don't. I don't. And even if you did . . . " You found your voice trailing off. You hiked the strap of your bag up your shoulder again, having slipped down your arm. "I should go. I have History of Magic soon and I don't want to be late."

Mattheo glanced at you and then down at the floor, his jaw clenched. "Fine. I won't stand in your way then."

-

You spent the majority of your time avoiding Mattheo, but you knew there'd be a day when you would run into him and you couldn't do anything about it. Today was that day, almost two weeks after the aforementioned incident.

You were curled up in the Astronomy Tower, late at night, lying on top of a blanket as you glanced up at the stars. It was perhaps the only moment of peace you had found in a while - maybe it was the whistle of wind or the glittering of the stars.

You should've known he'd be up here. He's always sneaking off places late at night, the highest points of the castle. You heard your name being called and turned around to see a surprised Mattheo. He stood but a few feet from yourself. You weren't exactly sure what to do - in your panic, you did nothing.

"Erm - may I sit down?"

You didn't say anything for a moment, drawing your legs into your chest and resting your head upon your knees. You nodded ever so slightly, glancing away from him as he plopped down next to you. His shoulder brushed up against yours and he leaned forward to try and catch your eyes, mimicking your seated position.

"Hey, I'm sorry about the other day. I should've stayed there with you . . ." His voice trailed off. He let out a sigh as he leaned back on both palms, now spraying out his legs across the blanket. He stared put at the stars, his expression neither upset nor particularly happy. "I don't think you really meant it when you said you didn't care about me. I know you do. I just want to know why you're trying to convince yourself that you don't." He paused, hesitating. "Is it because you think I don't feel the same way about you? 'Cause you can erase that thought from your mind. I like you - really, really like you. And I don't know why exactly you keep pushing me away, but I want you to know that I'm here to listen."

He bathed in your silence, not necessarily perturbed by it. He finally decided to test the waters, raising his hand to gently touch yours. He seemed fascinated with you as he ran his fingernail gently across your skin.

You didn't know whether you wanted to tell him or not. You didn't know if you could trust him. If he wouldn't just laugh in your face, call you a fool, and leave you a pitiful mess. But Salazar, did you want to spill your heart out to him. And in the mental state you were in now, coupled with your fatigue, you didn't even care anymore.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't have any friends. I'm not particularly close with my family. And everytime I did start to make a friend or - or something more, they'd just leave." You wrapped your arms tighter around your legs. "I always wondered, what's wrong with me? Do I say the wrong things? Act the wrong way? Am I really so despisable that people actively go out of their way to ignore me?" You scoffed. "Guess I must be some kind of horrible person then."

"That's not true," Mattheo said immediately, surging forward in anger. "You're an amazing person. Whoever has just left you or treated you like that, they're arseholes. I won't do that to you. Never. I don't care how many times I have to say it 'til it gets through that pretty little head of yours, I like you, I care about you, I want to make you happy . . . and if leaving you alone and pretending like I never admitted that to you makes you happy, then that's what I'll do." He waited for your response, painfully hoping for a verbal one. However, you remained silent. Mattheo felt his heart sink. "Right then. Well."

He began to push himself off the floor to get up, but you quickly grabbed his hand. "Wait!" you exclaimed in alarm, finally meeting his eyes. "I - I lied before. I do care about you. Please don't go. Please."

Mattheo sat back down with an easy-going grin, like he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

"You really like me?" You asked, both breathless and doubtful all at once.

"Do you need me to prove it to you?" His grin grew smug.

"Yes, actually."

"All right then." Mattheo raised his hand to rest under your chin, tilting your head slightly to the side so you were facing him directly. Your eyes widened as he drew closer, his eyes glancing between your eyes and your lips. Breath growing shallow, you tensed as you could feel his humid breath on your lips. "I can prove it to you right now, if you let me."

You wasted no time in smashing your lips against his, hands coming up to cup both of his cheeks. Your eyes were shut tight as you relished in the feeling of his buttery smooth lips running against yours. He was a bit more passionate tha you had expected, but he had been waiting for years to do this. And whatever his imagination could try to conjure, it was nothing compared to the real thing.

Mattheo was the one to pull away but he was soon back to give you a quick peck, sming against your lips. "You're amazing - I don't think I'll ever be leaving you after a kiss like that."

You finally grinned, a true grin, gor the first time in a long time, and brought his face back down to yours to kiss under the stars.

Thank you all for reading! Be sure to like, reblog, and comment! I really appreciate it ^^. If you have any requests, by inbox is open but make sure to check the list of characters I write for here. If you want to be tagged in any upcoming fics/headcanons of mine, let me know. If you want to see more from me, go ahead and check out my masterlist here!

[koolades-world]

Hey! I'm sorry if your (inbox, is it called?" Is closed, I just read your little story on how the brothers would react to an MC with a British accent.I was wondering if you could do a reaction to a Puerto Rican MC? Again, I'm sorry if your inbox is closed.

OMG HI inbox is open no worries!

so excited for this!! had to do a double take at first. I'm actually half puerto rican half indian! weird combo i know BUT I absolutely love this request! sometimes it's hard for me to be positive about my background and who I am. usually any mention of my race or ethnicity feels like a knife to the back, but I'm so excited for my chance to be happy about who I am

I know it just came in but as soon as I saw this I knew I had to write it right away! this is something that has every puerto rican gene in my body infused into it and despite being so short, it probably has some of the most love i've probably ever put into a piece of writing

thank you :))) please enjoy

Puerto Rican Mc

Lucifer

at first, it doesn't mean a lot to him since you're not that close yet

but later on, he begins to understand why you're so proud of your background

he totally understands being loud and proud about who you are and not being afraid to shy away from others about it

any demon who comments on this negatively vanishes mysteriously

Mammon

bonding over being poc and being able to share the struggle with each other

you understand each other and he knows what it feel like to look around and realize you're the only poc in the room. you're not alone with him by your side

lots of sweet moments and tears shared together and an inseparable bond

at the end of the day, you have each other <3

Levi

once you get close, he introduces you to all of his favorite puerto rican characters

admires how protective and loyal you are of those you're close to

values you so dearly

he doesn't regret opening up to you because it was the best choice he ever made

Satan

he begins to collect books he'd think you'd like written by puerto rican authors or have puerto rican characters because he knows how excited you'll get

he goes out of his way to introduce you to his favorite puerto rican adjacent restaurant in the devildom

takes you on plenty of trips to the human world to experience home again if you need it or just to eat good food

could listen to you talk for hours about why being puerto rican is great

Asmo

think the fact that you speak spanish (or some) is so hot (a/n: I myself speak very little haha)

immediately asks you to teach him some and to say something that sounds sexy even if it's not actually

gifts you all sorts of things that either have the puerto rican flag or have the same colors as the puerto rican flag, like clothes or little trinkets

acts as your personal cheerleader whenever you need it

Beel

loves the culinary journey you take him on through your culture

he especially loves coquito and limber (a/n: my personal favs)

asks you to teach him how to make several puerto rican dishes that practically makes your heart explode with joy

he knows food is always a huge part of the culture and in honored you showed him all the ins and outs

Belphie

likes to poke fun at you from time to time to see how defensive you'll get

you poke fun at him right back with lots of cow jokes

you two playfight a lot, usually with you being victorious maybe because he let you

however, there's always room for you under his covers where ever he might be

[gilverrwrites]

this isn't really a request but what draws you to hal jordan? i've always been a jason fan but he's been really interesting me lately and i wonder what you like about his character, and how you put that in your writing? sorry if this is weird, but i love how you speak on the characters you write and your writing in general :3

I appreciate you asking this, and I hope you keep looking into Hal because I do think he's an interesting, and very underrated character at least within fandom space. But this seems an odd question to ask me specifically as I've only ever written one headcanon, and a match-up for him. I haven't written about him enough to have a grip on what exactly about him works for me on paper (or screen).

However, I want to write more about him going forward so i’ll try and surmise what I like about him.

Disclaimers: I am hangging out of my ass rn. A lot of my understanding of Hal comes from pre-2011 and obviously this is just my personal view of the character.

As a Hero, I like that he's kinda different in his orgin to most. He didn't choose the lanterns, they chose him and he embraced it, quite willingly, and I thinks because he's:

a) always chased a sense of purpose.

b) good. Something deep inside him craves to do good.

(not saying he was blindly indoctrinated but I think I know which JL member is most likely to unwittingly join a cult.)

He's often billed as being ‘without fear’ but I don't think thats true. He's often shown to be afraid of things and he’s constantly surrounded by peers and foes that are alien, or immortal, or super-powers, but despite the constant reminder of his own mortality, he still runs toward his fears. He’s not without fear but he is exceptionally brave.

He's flawed. I know that most characters are flawed. His bravery is often driven/over shadowed by his recklessness and thrill-seeking which in my cases I've always considered to be a coping mechanism. Its hard to dwell on your unwanted emotions when you're high on adrenalin, drunkenly hurdling through the sky at 100 miles and hour, you know? (or whatever a realistic speed for a plane is idk)

He's quite a prideful character, he likes to show off the things he does well and downplay his mistakes, but when he does do bad, he always eventually take responsibility for his action. Its a big theme of his earlier stories.

He's got a strong personality, you have to in order to fit in amongst the JL and the likes.

He portrays himself very confidently, some would say overconfident, cocky, abrasively so. Which is a kind of character I've always been compelled to. I like a character with bravado, especially if they’re funny and charming too, which tick and tick.

Despite his pride, Hal also knows when its time to buckle down and get a job done.

(About to start muddling canon and my own fanon now) Yet, in his down time he's kind of a loser? I mean, ACAB to start (yes even space cops). But like, in his off time, when he's back on earth, he couch surfs, or finds someone to shack up with then spends most of his days in his boxers, drinking beer, scratching his balls, watching re-runs of MASH and Miami Vice.

Can't keep a job cause he's not really dedicated to anything but the crop (commitment issues ammiright?)

Gets kinda jealous and defensive when he finds out characters like Bruce and Ollie are also just human, like him. Thought he was special, you know?

There's a lot more going on with his character, I'm barely scratching the surface here, but these are just the first things that came to mind for me.

Oh, and if may add one last thing:

[serickswrites]

Here’s a request idea for you! Something I personally love.

Whumper wants to drain smallest/youngest teammate of their powers.

Everything else is up to you!! Have fun!🫡

Hello, friend, I can absolutely write this for you! This is a 7 part series (plotted, not entirely written just yet) and will posted under the title 'Fade In/Fade Out'.

Please enjoy!

Warnings: threat of death, threat of torture, demands

"Everyone meet in the briefing room," Team Leader shouted down the hall. Their tone was gruff and short. Whatever they wanted to discuss with the team, it had to be serious.

Smallest Teammate put down their book as they watched their other team members stop their activities and head to the briefing room at the center of Base. Though they were the newest to the team, Smallest Teammate felt the most at home with the team. Everyone had been so welcoming and supportive. It wasn't easy for them to fit in most places--too many people would either not trust them or try to use them. They had tried to conceal their power for so long, but it hadn't worked. Not too many people had the ability to manipulate probabilities. Not too many people with that ability went unnoticed.

But Team Leader had welcomed Smallest Teammate with open arms. They had told Smallest Teammate they would welcome anyone to their team so long as they wanted to help humanity. And so Team Leader's team was composed of individuals with various powers, but all worked together to better the world.

"Gang," Team Leader began as the twelve members sat at the conference table, "I have to discuss this matter with you all. Though I've made my decision, I think you should all be informed."

What was so serious that Team Leader made a decision, but wanted everyone to know? Smallest Teammate watched Team Leader wave a piece of paper with growing trepidation. What terrible thing was in store for them all?

"Whumper has issued a demand. I'm not going to answer it. But I think we need to come up with a plan to fight them."

"Well, I for one, am not ever going to indulge that lunatic!" Teammate One said as they leaned back in their chair.

"Nor I," Teammate Two said, nodding their agreement.

"I think we are all in agreement not to answer Whumper's demands. But I think you should all know so we can come up with a plan."

"Then just tell us, already," Teammate Four whined, "I was getting ready for a nice long nap."

Team Leader frowned at Teammate Four pointedly before speaking. "As I was saying, Whumper has issued a demand. They have demanded I turn over Smallest Teammate to them or else they will take their time killing each one of us, saving Smallest Teammate for last."

Smallest Teammate swallowed. Whumper wanted them. Them! What on earth did Whumper want them for? Their thoughts were drowned out as the table erupted into angry grumbles and shouts. The team shouted over each other about the best ways to launch an attack on Whumper, the best ways to protect Smallest Teammate, and the best ways to fortify Base. Smallest Teammate could not be more grateful for the fact that their team was ready to protect them.

But they could not help but be afraid. They were afraid for themself. They were afraid for the world. But most of all, they were afraid for their team.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@acer-whumpstuff @pepeniascat

[lesbianreginageorgeisreal]

Ask away (I'm bored)

1: Name

2: Age

3: 3 Fears

4: 3 things I love

5: 4 turns on

6: 4 turns off

7: My best friend

8: Sexual orientation

9: My best first date

10: How tall am I

11: What do I miss

12: What time were I born

13: Favorite color

14: Do I have a crush

15: Favorite quote

16: Favorite place

17: Favorite food

18: Do I use sarcasm

19: What am I listening to right now

20: First thing I notice in new person

21: Shoe size

22: Eye color

23: Hair color

24: Favorite style of clothing

25: Ever done a prank call?

27: Meaning behind my URL

28: Favorite movie

29: Favorite song

30: Favorite band

31: How I feel right now

32: Someone I love

33: My current relationship status

34: My relationship with my parents

35: Favorite holiday

36: Tattoos and piercing i have

37: Tattoos and piercing i want

38: The reason I joined Tumblr

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

42: When did I last hold hands?

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

44: Have I shaved your legs in the past three days?

45: Where am I right now?

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

49: Am I excited for anything?

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

52: When was the last time I hugged someone?

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

55: What is something I disliked about today?

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

57: What do I think about most?

58: What’s my strangest talent?

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

61: What was the last lie I told?

62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

64: Do I believe in magic?

65: Do I believe in luck?

66: What's the weather like right now?

67: What was the last book I've read?

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

69: Do I have any nicknames?

70: What was the worst injury I've ever had?

71: Do I spend money or save it?

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue?

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

74: Favorite animal?

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

78: How can you win my heart?

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

80: What is my favorite word?

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

86: What is my current desktop picture?

87: Had sex?

88: Bought condoms?

89: Gotten pregnant?

90: Failed a class?

91: Kissed a boy?

92: Kissed a girl?

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

94: Had job?

95: Left the house without my wallet?

96: Bullied someone on the internet?

97: Had sex in public?

98: Played on a sports team?

99: Smoked weed?

100: Did drugs?

101: Smoked cigarettes?

102: Drank alcohol?

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

104: Been overweight?

105: Been underweight?

106: Been to a wedding?

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

109: Been outside my home country?

110: Gotten my heart broken?

111: Been to a professional sports game?

112: Broken a bone?

113: Cut myself?

114: Been to prom?

115: Been in airplane?

116: Fly by helicopter?

117: What concerts have I been to?

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

119: Learned another language?

120: Wore make up?

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

122: Had oral sex?

123: Dyed my hair?

124: Voted in a presidential election?

125: Rode in an ambulance?

126: Had a surgery?

127: Met someone famous?

128: Stalked someone on a social network?

129: Peed outside?

130: Been fishing?

131: Helped with charity?

132: Been rejected by a crush?

133: Broken a mirror?

134: What do I want for birthday?

[aimbuddylist]

Jason's cock in James' mouth here. Sooo when are we getting another fic of Jameson? I'm dry. I'm dehydrated. Starved. I'm drinking nothing. I have no use for my hands because there's nothing to use them for. I have no use of my eyes because there's nothing to read. You killed me with Big Shot. But you ended me with NFAMLW. I literally ceased to exist. Because not only are you good at smut. You're an excellent, in fact, incredible writer. Now nothing else will settle my thoughts. I refuse to read any other story. I'm patiently waiting. But I'm sick and starved for your fics 🤒🤒🤒🤒🤒

Signed: Desperate Queer 🌈 😐

oh my. you must hydrate yourself at the very least, kind 🌈😐 anon!

this is a looong answer, so buckle in.

as much as i hate to admit it, i am afraid my reply will be a disappointment. i'm back to working on a very old, unpublished, long fic. maybe the longest i've ever written. in theory this should sound great, but my attempt to work on it has coincided with a recent change to my daily schedule, and ive lost most of my writing time.

on the plus side, it is a jameson fic! and dave/kirk. and there is a love triangle with lars. it's also an ASOIAF au set way in the past so i have to brush up on my george r.r. martin books as i go. lotta elements in the air. as far as when any part of it will end up on ao3, your guess is as good as mine.

additionally (and maybe this is the main thing), i've been less motivated to write lately. a lot of it is that i am finding it hard to concentrate on anything but current events, but also.... i have been getting the sense that a lot of more recent readers in the fandom prefer a different kind of fic from what i write. maybe i'm wrong about that, i really don't know. i used to tell myself that it didn't matter, and that i write for myself, not an audience, and while that is mostly true, the fact that when i do receive feedback (like this, for example) it gives me such a boost, i have to be real and say that the audience does matter to me. i guess like.... i am wondering if i pour all this effort into this fic and hardly anyone reads it, will it hurt me? am i going to feel like a failure? will i regret using the little personal time i have to write something that falls flat? hard to say. i think a lot of writers probably feel like this.

thanks for sending me this ask. i don't get that many, so the impact of your words is especially meaningful to me. i am touched, and am glad my writing had an effect on you! if nothing else, this is just a little more fuel to add to the writing fire <3

[avatar-anna]

Diamonds

pausing our regularly scheduled program with a luke hemmings blurb bc i love him and his solo music and i'm sad i couldn't go to any of his shows 😔 i'll get back to harry soon, but i'll take inspo wherever i can rn. enjoy!

"The next one we're gonna play for you is one of the most vulnerable songs I've ever written," Luke said, mouth pressed up against the microphone. The shimmer you helped spread over the lids of his eyes practically glowed under the blue lights that lit the stage. You thought he looked ethereal, the very embodiment of the music he was performing tonight.

"When I was putting together the final tracklist for this album," Luke continued, "I was hesitant to add this song because I was afraid that it was too vulnerable, but I was convinced that it was worth sharing, that the emotions and experiences behind this song would reach those who needed to hear it the most.

"The person who convinced me, and played a crucial part of making this record, is here tonight, and to them, I would just like to say thank you. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn't and making me brave enough to truly face my demons. You pulled me out of the deep end when it felt like I was drowning, and I would be a completely different person than I am today without you. I love you. My heart and soul is yours to keep."

Cheers were heard throughout the venue as the opening chords began. As Luke started to sing, you were thankful that you decided to watch the concert from backstage, unable to keep tears from welling in your eyes.

"Cut like diamonds and sink like stones, starve myself 'til I'm skin and bone, I'm so much older than I ever thought I would be."

He said that often. My heart and soul is yours to keep. Yours to keep safe, was what he meant. It had taken him a long time to open up to you and trust your ability to be a good partner, so him saying that his heart was yours was huge. He trusted you that much not to break his heart, to never let him sink back into old habits and bitter thoughts. That level of trust meant everything to you.

In his little speech, Luke thanked you for being the one to convince him to release the song, which was true in a way. He'd been conflicted about the song at first, not ready to share such a dark period of his life so publicly. The song had originally been just a way to express himself, to put everything he'd been through on paper without ever letting it see the light of day.

Luke had shared what the song was about, had opened up to you just what had made him feel that way in the past—toxic relationships, poor decisions that led to even worse habits, hurting the people closest to him, all of his mistakes. He didn't hide any of it from you, and you took all of those misgivings, all of those past mistakes, and showed him that you loved him anyway.

"How far is far? Are we too deep in? How dark is dark? I need to see it."

It wasn't easy at first. When you met, Luke wasn't in a place where he could give himself to anyone emotionally. He believed that he was too damaged to be loved the way he deserved and that he was better off being alone and unhurt than trying to fall in love again and risk being completely ruined by someone he thought he could trust. He had been more closed off than anyone you'd ever met, but all of it just made you want to show him what love without conditions looked like. And he couldn't fathom why. Luke was never rude to you about it. He never snapped at you or pushed you away or treated you badly to make a point, he just truly believed that he wasn't worth your time.

*.*

You were at his house, hanging out as friends. Only this time you surprised him by bringing him flowers.

Luke had been completely dumbfounded, unsure of your intentions. You told him it was just to brighten up his home a little, and because you liked doing nice things for the people you cared about. He didn't question you much further, but the rest of the time you were together, you caught him staring at the bouquet that stood in the vase you'd placed them in. His gaze had been wary and apprehensive each time, and you finally told him the truth.

"I want to take you on a date," you said simply.

Luke seemed surprised, which led to a conversation that was perhaps a step below an argument, but only because you calmly listened to Luke and evaded his tactics to push you away with ease.

"I—I don't deserve you," he finally said, but his voice was heavy with emotion, like he desperately didn't want it to be true.

"Who decides what we do and don't deserve, Luke?" you said to him, resting your hand over his and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles gently. To your surprise, he didn't pull away.

"I'm not good enough for you," he amended.

With a close-lipped smile, you leaned over from your spot on his couch and placed your thumb between his brows, smoothing the furrow there. "I think you think you're a worse person than you are."

You kissed his brow, your touch just enough for him to feel your lips brush his skin. When you pulled back, you tapped his nose with your knuckle. "I won't push you, and I won't try to fix you," you said, because the truth was, you didn't believe he needed fixing. But you knew you weren't going to be able to convince him of that. Not now, anyway. "But I will tell you this: you are a remarkable person, and when you're ready, I'd love to love you one day."

*.*

"I'm on my way out, losing the dream. I feel it crash down, down on me. Caught in the madness, holding on me. Is this the way it will always be?"

It took some time, but Luke eventually believed what you did from the day you met him. You were there to see him through the thick of it, holding his hand when he needed you to and giving him space when he asked. He'd gone off to write for a little while, and when he came back, you could practically see the weight lift from his shoulders. It was as if he'd left his biggest demons at the cabin he'd been staying in.

And now he was at his own solo concert performing the songs that held the deepest secrets of his heart. Luke sang each word with passion and pride, the kind that came from knowing that he'd overcome the darkness that had held him for so long. He wasn't drowning anymore, but he sang his songs so that his fans could see that it was possible to be in a dark place and come out of it.

The song faded to its end, and Luke bowed before the crowd as they cheered. He held his hands together in front of his face, the appreciation written in his features abundantly clear. You watched him survey the crowd with so much pride you thought you were going to burst, but you ended up just shedding a couple more tears instead.

While fans were still cheering and his band was playing chords that would lead into the next song, Luke jogged to the side of the stage where you were standing. You hadn't expected him to come over to you, but when you saw his face, you knew what he needed.

Your arms opened for him just in time as he wrapped himself around you. He held onto you tight, his face buried in your hair as he lifted you off the ground. You held on just as fiercely, hoping it would sufficiently express just how much you loved him.

Time stopped as Luke held you in his arms. He had a whole crowd waiting for him to sing the next song, but neither of you seemed worried about getting him back onstage. When he finally set you back down, you kissed his cheek a couple times before kissing him properly, your hands on either side of his face.

"Okay, okay, no more of that," you said, when he kept trying to follow your lips as you pulled away from him, wanting just one more kiss. "There'll be plenty of time for that later. Now go. Everyone's waiting for you."

Luke began to turn like he was going to do just as you said, but before he walked away, he spun on his heel and caught you in one last kiss. Satisfied by your tinged cheeks, he grinned and kissed your cheek. "Mean the world to me, darlin.'"

Hearing him say that made you melt every single time, and he knew that. Shoving his shoulder playfully toward the stage, you said, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Now go be a rockstar, will you? You're keeping everyone waiting. Myself included."

Luke finally turned around for real and did just that.