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evilslushy · 20 days ago

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PenPal Girlfriend ♡

Hamzah x f!reader

(A/N): (lowkey not proofread lol), reader is shorter than Hamzah. Mentions of depression and loneliness (nothing too detailed), mentions of weird people on weird websites, no usage of y/n, reader is definitely 19+

wc: 20.2k (oops)

Lonesomeness can creep in slowly, but over time, it can become a suffocating force, leaving someone feeling invisible and abandoned. As days stretch into weeks, and weeks into months, the absence of connection amplifies an inner ache, stirring a deep, almost desperate need to be noticed, to matter. This void can cloud judgment, pushing a person to seek out any kind of interaction, even if it’s fleeting or harmful.

It’s a hunger that gnaws at the soul, distorting the desire for genuine connection into a frantic search for anything to fill the emptiness, no matter the cost.

After moving into his new apartment, Hamzah found himself overwhelmed by a deep and gnawing loneliness that settled in like a shadow. The walls, still bare and unfamiliar, seemed to echo with the absence of voices and laughter. At first, it was a quiet discomfort, a subtle sense of isolation that he could brush off with distractions. But as days turned into weeks, the silence grew louder, and the emptiness became harder to ignore.

Yes, he was near Martin and Mandy’s house. He pretty much lives there at times. Still, there was this void. Hamzah began to feel a desperate hunger for companionship, and the more he sought it, the more he found himself grasping at anything that might ease the ache, even if it meant settling for shallow exchanges that left him feeling emptier than before.

Once he shared this concern of his with Martin and Mandy, they both looked at him with empathy. Mandy shared that she had a similar experience once and that her pets helped her through it. Martin agreed, suggesting the idea of getting pets.

And desperation strikes again.

Blue and Red were shortly adopted after. Hamzah's lonesomeness had seemed to fade. Their excited greetings after he goes out with Chase and Claire apparent. He felt appreciated, loved, and cared for. Until they started only playing with him after he feeds them.

This is totally a transactional situationship.

So then here he lies. Bottom lip between his teeth, recording a Fortnite video with Martin for their channel when he suddenly shared his agony. “Martin, I’m feeling lonely again.” It must’ve came out as a bit for the video because all Martin said back was: “dang it.”

“No, I’m being serious.” Hamzah reiterated, Martin clicking his tongue, “guys, Hamzah seriously needs a Fortnite girlfriend. So I think the plan of for this video is to find him a Fortnite girlfriend!” Hamzah can almost hear the sound effects of children cheering in the background, his problems going unnoticed by his friend yet again.

After recording, Hamzah hung up from their discord call. Promising Martin to show up tonight for movie night with Chase.

He stared at his monitor for what almost felt like five minutes, his screen on a movie pirating website to download the movie they’ll be watching tonight. God, this feeling sucks. Like really sucks. He’s literally planning on spending time with his friends right now and still feels lonely.

“Am I depressed?” He questioned out loud. He wasn’t sure if he was finally coming to terms with what he’s currently feeling, or if he’s Tiktok self diagnosing and really needs a girlfriend. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither.

Blue jumped up his lap, purring at the feeling of his touch. Pulling Hamzah out of his state of constant thinking. Hamzah looked down at Blue, who meowed at the eye contact.

“What’s wrong?” He run’s his hand across Blue’s back, sliding his hand back up and across to cup Blue’s belly, carrying him up to set on his shoulder. The cat stood on his shoulder proudly, slightly shaking to find it’s balance.

“Keeping daddy company?”

Blue had to have felt a sense of disgust at what Hamzah just called himself. Jumping off of his shoulder to ground a second later. Hamzah snarking at the action: “damn, I wasn’t being serious…”

Red must’ve sensed the awkward sadness Hamzah wasn’t ready to address from the rejection of his own cat. The similarly named cat jumping on the table, and standing up right to meet Hamzah’s gaze.

Hamzah smiled, his hand petting red’s head and scratching the bridge of it’s nose. “Are you both hungry?” He asked, more to himself since the cats can’t understand him. His eyes moved to the edge of the screen, reading the time. “You just ate thirty minutes ago…” his eyesbrows furrowed. Uncertain if his cat’s suddenly started considering their situationship with him or not.

When his eyes turned back to Red. The cat’s tail was slithering in a calm manner, it wasn’t hungry, it just wanted some love…? Hamzah’s hands involuntarily gave the cat what it wanted. Showering it with love, petting its head and kissing its face.

“Aren’t YOU acting out of place…?” He mumbled, kissing the cat’s nose one last time before turning his gaze back onto his computer. Only then realizing how much the cat covered his screen. “Okay, wrap it up. I need to finish this,” he pushed the cat towards him, sliding it from the table to his lap.

Red meowed, an annoyed meow. Hamzah looked back down at the cat. “Sorry.”

Red’s tail curled up, Hamzah’s eyes shifting to the tail at the sudden movement—looking at it from base to tip—he noticed something from the corner of his eyes. An ad, Red’s tail weirdly pointing at it. Just then, the cat jumped up from Hamzah’s lap, its face moving closer to the same side Hamzah’s currently looking at and sniffing it.

“Your Next Penpal Is Just a Message Away!” The ad read.

“From click to paper…” Hamzah’s voice barely above a whisper as he read the rest of the ad: “Words create bonds, letters build friendships.”

His face lit up for a millisecond before dropping with a frown. “Who am I kidding… this is totally an affinity scheme.” He thought, rolling as eyes at the fact that such things excited him. A weird feeling of embarrassment rushing over him.

He quickly clicked the ad away. He never really did that before because he never really cared for pop up. But something about this ad (the embarrassment of how excited he got) made his skin crawl; not wanting to see a glimpse of it.

A sigh escaped him. Rapidly clicking on the download button and closing the tabs it would open each time. With a few low annoyed groans and agonizing two minutes; Hamzah pulled off the flash from his PC, grabbing his computer and rushing to put on the nearest shoes he could find to run to Martin and Mandy’s house (since he spend ten respectable minutes doing nothing but petting his cats and mumbling nonsense about a pop up ad he saw on a pirating website.)

“Fuck. Chase.” He squeezed his eyes shut almost like his problems would disappear if he did.

Sending the following message (via Siri) to Martin shortly after: “Just left home. I’ll pick up Chase in a bit. Running late.”

—

The aroma of sweet vanilla filled the room. Mandy and Claire working on their attempt on crumbl cookie’s pink frosted sugar cookies. The came out fairly decent for their first attempt, Hamzah standing beside Martin by the kitchen island both the girls were decorating on.

“It looks like the real deal.” Hamzah commented, Claire sending him a haunting glare at his poor attempt on complimenting their baking skills. “It is the real deal. Probably even better.” Mandy added, Martin nodding his head as he grabbed a freshly frosted cookie and bit into it. Hamzah looked at his face to read his expression.

Martin seemed pleased, which only made Hamzah grab a one of his own.

“You guys are so…” Claire seemed annoyed at their presence with them, like that feeling you get when someone else is in the kitchen with you when you’re making your late night snack. “Everyone just be quiet. I wanna focus.” Mandy said, making Clarie sigh in defeat. If Mandy isn’t on anyone’s side, its pretty much over for everyone.

Martin turned to ask Hamzah, “did you download the movie?” Flicking his head to the side to move his bangs out of his eyesight. Hamzah nodded, eating the last bite of his cookie. “Can you set it up? By the time the finish up we can just start it.”

“I got it. Hand me the flash.” Chase spoke up from the couch, closing his phone, setting it on the couch. Hamzah turned to him, shoving his hands in his pocket and threw the flash towards Chase. Just when Chase caught it, Mandy added: “do you guys want popcorn?”

Hamzah remained quiet, letting everyone answer for him. He must’ve zoned out because he doesn’t really know what they decided on. Only one thing primarily hung over his mind right now. That one weird penpal ad.

“I saw this weird ad today on the pirating website I was on.” Maybe the thought was so heavy it had to slip past his mouth. Martin chuckled, thinking it was going to be a ‘Hannah, thirty miles away’ type of joke—but when he saw Hamzah’s face—his quiet laughter died down.

The rest continued to look at Hamzah with curiosity. The man blinked awkwardly as they waited for him to continue.

“It was like… from click to paper or something like that. A website for meeting penpals—”

“Affinity scheme vibes.” Both him and Martin say at the same time. Dropping the original topic at hand to look at each other with the mouths wide open, giggling like idiots.

“Wait. So it’s like-” Mandy started. “Is it like… tinder but the penpal version?”

“Maybe you’ll find a girlfriend there.” She teased, pulling the cookies away from the parchment paper. Hamzah turned to look at Mandy, “my struggles shouldn’t be a laughing stock.” He responded, a hand on his hip.

Claire smiled at the two, recalling a friend of hers mentioning something similar to her. “I remember a friend of mine mentioned something like that. She said it was pretty nice and like, fully anonymous. Kinda cool.”

“That ad was most likely the bootleg version of the real thing.” Chase added from across the room.

Martin sighed, resting his hip on the counter to hold the balance of his body. “Pretty much knocking two birds with one stone. Meeting someone new and journaling.”

Was it the sugar rush talking or is the idea of this website appealing to him? As Martin said: “Two birds with one stone.”

Meeting someone new and maybe feeling less lonely…!

—

What the fuck is he doing…? Hamzah himself wondered that as he clicked on the website, the forefront of the site was something out of the two thousands.

It must be an old website then. A message from his browser on the top left corner asked him if he allows the website to use his location, he didn’t fully read or comprehend what it said—clicking allow (thinking it was asking if he could allow the website to give him notifications.)

Hamzah clicked on the sign up button. Typing in his spam email and the same password he usually uses on burner accounts, lastly clicking on ‘male’ when it asked for his gender.

His eyebrows raised curiously when it asked him what gender he preferred to speak to. Is this actually like penpal tinder? But he innocently clicked on ‘male’ again. His thought process was that he wanted to make more male friends, he felt like he only had Martin and Chase as of right now, all his other male friends always seem too busy to hang out.

Plus it’ll be cool to say you met your homie on a penpal website.

As soon as he clicked on the done button; it loaded him into a new page, this one asking him to highlight or enter some of his interests. Hamzah’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, thinking about what he should type.

Nothing. Nothing really came into mind except for one thing.

Hamzah started typing it, a circle forming around the word and finally getting highlighted as he pressed enter—validating his interest as one of the many hobbies in the database of this website.

‘Fortnite.’

He smiled at the screen. Happy with what he wrote. That happiness rudely interrupted by a pop up message reading: ‘MUST ENTER AT LEAST THREE ENTRIES!’

Hamzah continued his journey to remember hobbies he has, recalling fishing being one of them seconds later, then journaling lastly. He might be lying a little bit on the last one since he doesn’t feel consistent enough, but it was something he enjoyed doing!

As he pressed the enter button again, it sent him to another page, it took a while to load, though he was shocked to see that it immediately took him to an open chatroom.

It had the same outline as Omegle, but slightly more vibrant and with a feel of mySpace. A loud ding made him slightly jump back; realizing that the sound was a notification for a message being sent. He blinked, looking at the other buttons available on his screen, a skip button beside the send button, a block button beside the username of whoever was on the other side.

Hamzah looked at the message on his screen:

FeetAsianFisher: Age?

He giggled at the name, mumbling: “what the fuck?” Under his breath. “Did he put asian as his interest or asian-fishing?” Hamzah thought, his giggles turning into laughter from his own joke.

FishingFortniteJournalist: 22, what the fuck is that username? LOL

Hamzah noticed his username, realizing the website never asked him for one. And also noticing that his username was a mashup of all his entered interests. The horror washed over him as he re-read the other guy's username.

FeetAsianFisher: 62

FeetAsianFisher: do u like older men?

FeetAsianFisher: i like pretty boys, are you one?

Hamzah almost couldn’t see from the face he was making, his eyes squinted, his mouth forming a frown. Hands frozen over the keyboard. Did he just enter a website where old people get their freak on? His right hand held his mouse, moving the cursor to the skip button faster than ever.

“Ew.” He commented under his breath, turning to Red to see if it also just witnessed what he did. Red only meowed to it’s owner, turning to run to Blue and continue wrestling.

Another ding. His attention back to the screen.

FortniteFeetGamer: Age?

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

FishingFortniteJournalist: WHAT IS UP WITH YOU GUYS AND FEET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He didn’t waste time, skipping this guy as well. Absolutely not giving him a chance to respond back.

Hamzah realized that he’ll probably continue on this loophole if he doesn’t change his settings, there must be a filtering system for interests or something. If there is, he's definitely filtering out ‘feet’ first.

He clicked through the settings as quickly as he could, furiously trying to make adjustments to his profile before more creepy messages came flooding in. The website felt more like a maze designed to keep him lost than a genuine way to connect with people. If mySpace was this complicated, how did people like it?

After a few more clicks, he found the “Preferences” section. His face lit up, this must be it! He could change his settings, modify some interests, and maybe—just maybe—dodge the barrage of strange messages and people.

His eyes scanned the options, nothing. Just two buttons: ‘change gender preference’ and ‘change interests.’

Then it hit him. His preferred gender was probably the reason why he kept getting weird messages. He could change it. Maybe, just maybe, if he set his preferences to women, it might filter out some of the weirdos.Without really thinking about it, he clicked.

The forefront reloading again, taking him to a new page. Then loading up a new chatroom. A pop up message on the top read: ‘PREFERRED GENDER CHANGED SUCCESSFULLY.’

The chatroom was quiet. The opposite party didn’t send a message which made Hamzah feel obliged to start the conversation.

FishingFortniteJournalist: hello?

He waited patiently for an answer, a ding alerting him of the other person’s answer.

FishingGirlFeet: ＭＹＰＵＳＳＹＩＮ 🄵🄸🅂🄷🄸🄽🄶🄶🄸🅁🄻🄵🄴🄴🅃.🄲🄾🄼

Hamzah could only sigh when his eyes registered the message.

FishingFortniteJournalist: I hate you so much.

He skipped the bot as soon as he pressed enter, going into the settings again to avoid being put in another godforsaken freaky chatroom. His eyes darted at the available options, deciding to click on the profile settings.

It didn’t say much other than his username, email, and gender. The username was unavailable to edit, same for the email (though it had a message written underneath that said: “this email will not be shared publicly.”) The only thing that was available for change was gender.

Hamzah hesitated for a moment, wondering if he changed his gender to woman, and had his preference to women, would things be any different? Or is he still going to get bombarded with weird messages?

Curiosity killed the cat.

A few clicks and he was (according to the website) a lady.

Reloading him back to a chatroom as soon as he exited the settings, his eyes falling back to the center of the screen awaiting an answer from both the person and for his theory.

GamingJournalingReader: Hello???

…normal?

ForniteFishingJournalist: are u a normal person or do u like feet?

GamingJournalingReader: LMFAO

GamingJournalingReader: NORMAL

ForniteFishingJournalist: u have no clue what i just went through

GamingJournalingReader: I think I have an idea… LOL

GamingJournalingReader: WTF YOU PLAY FORTNITE?!

ForniteFishingJournalist: not a lot nowadays but i play it with my friend most of the time

GamingJournalingReader: Cool! I guess the reason why we got paired up was the journaling part.

GamingJournalingReader: How long have you been journaling? I only started a few months ago, honestly it’s been super fun!

ForniteFishingJournalist: around a year ago? but i started taking it seriously a few months ago too

GamingJournalingReader: That’s awesome!! How old are you by the way?

ForniteFishingJournalist: 22

GamingJournalingReader: Taylor Swift age :0

ForniteFishingJournalist: idk abt u but im feelin 22

Just before Hamzah could ask the person for their age, a big pop up message showed up on his screen:

“Did you enjoy your chat with GamingJournalingReader? Take your conversation offline—turn your typed words into handwritten letters! Just write your message, send it to the P.O. Box provided, and we'll make sure it reaches your new friend—anonymously. Your location stays private, but the connection stays real!”

Below that, a P.O box address was given. Hamzah raising a brow, “huh? How would they know my location?”

“Whatever.” He sighed, moving his cursor to the delete button, the tab disappearing as he clicked on delete. The thought of whoever he was talking to being a bot flowed into his mind. A pout forming on his lips, he felt like a loser. Was he that desperate? An online website to meet strangers? Who was he kidding, this was all a stupid idea.

He pushed his chair away from the desk with a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of the night pressing in on him. Red and Blue, sensing his movement, immediately sprang from their spots and bounded toward him. Hamzah glanced at the cats, then at the clock on his desk—it was already 11 PM, well past their usual feeding time.

"Sorry, guys," he muttered under his breath, heading toward the kitchen. The cats trailed behind him, meowing insistently, their hunger unmistakable. "I shouldn't have let this distract me." he added, though he knew they wouldn’t understand.

As soon as he placed their bowls on the floor, the cats pounced on their food, eating eagerly. Hamzah sat beside them, gently ran his hand over Blue’s head as it ate, the soft purrs filling the quiet space.

Hamzah watched them eat for a moment longer, the quiet rhythm of their hunger oddly comforting. When he was sure they were settled, he stood up, stretching his arms.

"Alright," he said softly, glancing down at Red and Blue, who were still focused on their food. "Night." His voice was quiet, but the cats didn't seem to care, too wrapped up in their meal.

With a final glance at the pair, Hamzah turned off the kitchen light and made his way to his bedroom.

—

It had been a long, grueling week for Hamzah—filming, endless hours of talking with Martin. Why? Martin was heading off to visit his family for the next few weeks. They had to prepare. Filming, editing, discussing, then filming some more. Hamzah was relieved that he wouldn’t have to talk at all for a while. The idea of spending a whole month in silence, without the pressure of constant conversation, sounded like paradise.

He kicked off his shoes the moment he entered his apartment, sighing as the weight of the day lifted slightly. Red and Blue immediately began circling his feet, meowing excitedly. “Hello,” Hamzah cooed, his backpack slung over one shoulder. With his other hand, he held a small stack of bill-mail.

“Are you cuties hungry?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at them. Both cats meowed in response, louder this time, their tails flicking in anticipation. Hamzah smiled and nodded. “Coming right up.”

He dropped his backpack by the door, then turned to make his way into the kitchen. Blue reached out and clawing at Hamzah’s sock.

“Ouch! Stop,” Hamzah groaned, wiggling his foot to shake the cat off. Blue quickly jumped back and scampered over to Red, starting a little wrestling match. Hamzah watched them for a second, his lips curling into a smile.

He set the mail on the kitchen counter, then opened the cabinet where he kept the cat food. Pulling out the pre-packaged sleeves of wet food, he quickly split the contents into two separate bowls.

Before he could bend fully to put the bowls on the ground, Blue was climbing up his leg in a desperate attempt to get to the food first. Hamzah laughed and stood back up, carefully setting the bowls out of reach as the cats scrambled over to him.

“Easy!” he said, half-amused, half-annoyed. He nudged them both back a little, enough to give him space to set the food down, but not without a couple of claws grazing his leg.

As soon as the bowls were on the floor, the cats pounced, their meows filling the room as they dug into their meal. Hamzah leaned against the counter, letting out a small sigh as he watched them. The apartment was quiet, save for the soft sound of their eating. For a moment, it was just him, his cats, and the peace that he hadn’t realized he’d been craving.

Hamzah turned his attention back to mail on the kitchen counter, resting his elbows on that same counter to peel them open. He went through seventy five percent of them, the usual billing receipts and ads for local stores opening nearby—that is until, of course—a letter with a sticky note captivated his vision. He pushed the other mail envelope that laid over it, the brown textured envelope standing out not only with its color but with the odd yellow sticky notes attached to it.

His eyes first read the address, a P.O box that seemed familiar but he quickly dismissed it since it didn’t pop up in his mind immediately. Moving his gaze to the sticky note.

“To. FishingFortniteJournalist”

Hamzah let out a breath chuckle at first, the words in front of him not fully forming in his mind. Until it did. Hamzah's heart skipped a beat as he realized the note was addressed to his username. The username that had been automatically generated from his interests. He hadn’t even thought that something like this would actually happen.

How? How did they get his address?!

But then it hit him, like a ton of bricks. His thoughts rushed back to the moment he'd clicked Allow. He’d been in such a rush to sign up for that weird penpal site, too eager to bypass the pop-ups, the terms and conditions, just to see if it could actually be real! Something that would make him meet someone new. The website had asked if he allowed it to use his location. He'd assumed it was for notifications or maybe some setting for the chatroom. But now, with an annoyed realization creeping in, it dawned on him that by agreeing to share his location, he'd essentially handed over a piece of his privacy.

Hamzah cursed under his breath. "Of course, of course… fuck! What do I do?”

The website must’ve used that location data, linked it to the profile he’d made—FishingFortniteJournalist, his fishing, Fortnite-loving, journal-obsessed persona. And used a user matching database to know when someone sends in a letter—with a username attached to it—where they have to send that letter to.

And at the end of this all. ‘GamingJournalingReader’ wasn’t some bot chatting with him to keep him engaged with the website. No, no no no. This is a real person. In fact, it’s a person who wrote this letter, addressed to his username, and sent it to the website’s mailing P.O box TO SHIP TO HIM.

‘This is bad. This is really bad.’ Hamzah couldn’t help but think. And even with all these nerves kicking within him. Curiosity won yet again. He peeled open the envelope, careful not to rip the contents inside. Pulling everything out slowly. The letter unfolded, a faint scent of vanilla wafted up, a strange but oddly comforting smell. The letter was written in neat handwriting, the ink smooth and deliberate.

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

I hope this letter finds you well, despite the strange way we met. I thought it was amusing that we connected over Fortnite and journaling—two things I never expected to overlap. I’m glad we were able to chat for a bit, even if our first conversation was cut short. It’s rare to find someone with similar interests, and it was refreshing to find a connection like that!

Something about you being traumatized and trying to have a conversation about Fortnite is still funny to me. But, on the note of our interests. Since you said you just recently started journaling again I included some gifts for you in the envelope! Nothing too crazy, just some washi-tape and stickers I got from a friend of mine a while back.

Anyway, I don’t want to keep my letter too long. I look forward to hearing from you again—if you’re interested, of course.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader"

Hamzah blinked, rereading the letter twice to ensure he wasn’t seeing things. He sat down on the couch, the letter feeling heavier in his hands than it probably should. He quickly reached into the envelope and pulled out a tag, pink washi-tape wrapped around it, and some Hello Kitty stickers.

“What the hell is going on…?” Hamzah whispered to himself, still trying to process everything. He had forgotten about the whole website experience from all the stress, but now... now there was this letter. An actual letter. Sent by someone who seemed to have taken the connection seriously.

One thing was clear: this wasn’t something he could just brush off. Especially not when the person seemed too genuine to ignore.

Without wasting another moment, he tore a sheet from an old notebook and grabbed a blank envelope from a pile of mail, double-checking it didn’t have his address. He began writing:

“Hey GamingJournalingReader,

I have to admit, this is pretty wild. At first, I didn’t even think you were real, and now I feel a little guilty for not mailing you a letter first. I’m not sure how this works, even though I feel like I should. It’s intriguing, to say the least.

Thanks for the sticker and the tape, I’ll make good use of them. I wish I had something to send back, but I don’t.

Take care.”

He sighed, eyes scanning the letter with a pang of doubt. He definitely wasn’t good at this. The words felt stiff and distant, as if they came from someone else entirely. It felt similar to when he first messaged them; in the chatroom. Normally, he’d be the one making jokes, have this calm yet energetic spark and humor everyone. But with this person, everything seemed to slow down, his usual spark dimmed to something more subdued and thoughtful.

Maybe it was just the timing—talking to them that night after a long, exhausting day (movie night), when all he wanted was quiet and rest. Or maybe it was something about them, this GamingJournalingReader, that pulled him into a calmer, more introspective version of himself. He wasn’t sure which was more unsettling.

He folded the letter, shoving it inside the envelope he grabbed and copied the same P.O box address the person had on their letter. Writing their username boldly in the middle. GamingJournalingReader. The soft rustle of paper and writing filled the room, punctuating the silence. This whole situation felt strange. However, tomorrow morning, this is the first thing he has on his to-do list.

He traced the edge of the envelope with his thumb, the paper rough against his skin. For the time being, with a tired exhale, he sat back and stared at the ceiling, the shadows from his dim lamp shifting in a slow dance. It was late, the kind of late where everything felt heavy and honest. He rested his arms to each side of his body, the envelope slipping past the grasp of his hand and rested beside him on the couch.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, feeling different around this person. Maybe it meant there was something more to this, something worth unraveling, even if it made him uncomfortable.

But as his eyelids drooped and sleep began to claim him, one thought lingered: was it better to stay guarded, or to let himself lean into the quiet curiosity that GamingJournalingReader seemed to draw out of him? Whatever the answer was, it made him feel less lonely since he’s going to sleep with someone in the shadows of his mind.

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

God! I feel like a creep now that I was the first one to send a letter. I’m glad you liked the sticker though, matter of fact I’m glad you got the letter safely. Anyway, thank you for going through with this. It’s crazy that you were the first person I talked to!

Enough of the website, I don’t think you want to talk about it… I was thinking of fun things we can include in our letters to get to know each other. We can do playlists!! Obviously written playlists. Now that I’m writing this I think what I meant is song recommendations but regardless! I’d love to hear what you listen to! I attached a note to my letter that has some recommendations of mine.

I hope you had a good week! My week has been super hectic but I was happy to see that you got and responded to my letter. I don’t want to make this too long and bore you. See you next letter.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader”

—

The soft glow of your computer screen illuminated your small bedroom, casting a pale light over your tired eyes. It was one of those rare, tranquil evenings in Canada when the snowstorm outside created an almost cinematic backdrop. Flakes danced and swirled under the streetlamp’s light, covering the neighborhood in a pristine blanket of white. With a warm mug of peppermint tea nestled between your palms, you clicked on the familiar green icon on your laptop, waiting for the call to connect.

A moment later, the screen burst to life, and there was Mandy’s face, vibrant as ever. Her tanned skin glowed against the muted blues and oranges of what seemed like a hotel balcony. The sound of distant ocean waves crashing against the shore filtered through your speakers.

“Hey, there you are!” Mandy’s voice bubbled, her smile so wide that her eyes crinkled at the corners. She pushed a lock of sun-bleached hair behind her ear, revealing a pair of dangling shell earrings.

You couldn’t help but grin back. “Mandy! Wow, look at you! So… beachy.”

Mandy laughed, the sound warm and contagious. “I know, right? I’m starting to think I’m never going back to winter coats and boots. It’s paradise here, honestly.” She shifted the phone a little, giving you a view of the blue expanse behind her. “Look at this, just look at it!”

Your eyes widened at the sight of the brilliant turquoise sea and the golden glow of the setting sun. “It’s so nice. Where are you now?”

“Somewhere near Tulum. Martin found this tiny resort off the beaten path. He said he wanted to have a week for ourselves before coming back. No tourists, just an endless beach and some hammocks strung between the palms. We spent the whole day exploring the cenotes and eating the best tacos I’ve ever had.” Mandy’s eyes sparkled with the kind of joy that only came from adventure and sun.

“Ugh, lucky.” you pouted, taking a sip of your tea. The rich, comforting tea filled your senses, a stark contrast to Mandy’s tropical paradise.

Mandy’s expression softened a little as she leaned closer to the screen. Clicking her tongue before mirroring your pout. “I know. I feel guilty sometimes, being out here while you’re back in Canada. How’s it going? Heard there’s a snowstorm out of nowhere.”

You set your mug down and pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Sudden snowstorm is correct. Streets are buried under layers of snow, and I had to shovel the driveway twice today.”

Mandy winced in sympathy. “I don’t miss that at all actually.” Then a memory took over her vision, a giggling leaving her lips before reminding: “Remember last year when we got stuck in that coffee shop when we were trying to have this cute study date?”

“Oh my god! That was last year?”

“Yeah! It was fun, though,” Mandy said, a nostalgic smile curving her lips. “I miss those random little adventures with you.”

“Me too,” you admitted, glancing at the snow swirling just outside the window. A pang of longing settled in your chest, a mixture of missing Mandy and the familiarity of your carefree times together.

Suddenly, you remembered something.

“Oh my god. I forgot to tell you!” You started, setting your tea cup aside to adjust your laptop as you spoke to Mandy. You caught her attention immediately, fixing her posture to move closer to the computer. “I finally got a penpal.” You exclaimed.

Mandy made tiny claps with her hands, leaning even closer to the camera to celebrate. “No way! How?” She asked, continuing to add something before you answered: “That's funny because, a week ago, Martin's and my friends were over for movie night. And one of them mentioned seeing an ad for… uh… like online penpals? Like sending emails?”

You jumped at how similar it is to the idea of the website you used, “oh! It’s similar to the one I used but mine is like, you meet, you chat for like three minutes, then they give you this P.O box address that you can send your penpal letter to. That way it can be fully anonymous.”

“Location?” Mandy tilted her head.

“You allow them to have your location as soon as you click on the website.” You informed. Mandy looked at you like you had cat ears for ears; “and you allowed a random website to have your location?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“You’re insane.” Mandy sighed.

“Anyway,” you continue. “I met a girl as soon as I was matched to chat, we had journaling in common. She seems nice so far!”

Mandy raised her right eyebrow, crossing her arms, “and what makes you think she isn’t a twenty something year old creepy man that plays video games with his friends all day and can't ever interact with women outside of Fortnite skins?”

“I feel like you described me but with the implications of a man.”

“Point stands.” Mandy warned. You roll your eyes. “Mandy, why would a man put journaling as one of his interests?”

“To fool you.”

“Oh my god. Stop.” You started giggling at Mandy’s resistance against your ideologies. “So what? He doesn’t have my actual address if that’s true!”

“Plus, Fortnite Fishing Journalist? Sounds like a woman.”

“I think hypothermia is kicking in.” Mandy rubs her temple, looking to the beach as the waves crash down into a soft shuffling sound. “Careful.”

“Don’t worry. Probably won’t get murdered.” You reassured. Though, Mandy’s face didn’t seem reassured at all. “You enjoy your time! This is some silly penpal stuff! Tell me what you’ve been up to.” You noted, wanting to derail the conversation away from you since Mandy seemed so tense.

She gave you a half smile. Starting to go on about how she loves the beach waters here, how stray cats are friendly, and how her shopping sprees are becoming bigger and bigger as the days go by.

After an hour of talking about how Martin needs to stop wearing graphic t-shirts when they’re out together at a fancy restaurant or about how much Mandy misses fish; the call ended with a goodnight wish to you. Waving hands and kisses goodbye making a smile linger on your face even after she hangs up.

As you think back about your conversations, remembering what Mandy said about your new friend. Snarking at the imaginary tail of your friend. Yeah, right. A twenty something year old man pretending to be a woman to have a penpal that sends him Hello Kitty stickers, pink washi-tape samples, and song recommendations.

—

“GamingJournalingReader,

It’s me. Hi. How are you? I hope you are good. I’m okay. Song recommendations? I listened to some of yours and so far, I like it. I’ll also add some songs on the bottom of this ripped page. Excuse me, I don’t have sticky notes.

How’s the weather where you live? It’s snowing for me. No fun. I can’t go out to grab sticky notes for our letters. Dislike emoji. Sorry, I’m not used to writing on paper. I kind of wish I had emoji stickers to add.

This is kind of breaking my habit of using Siri for everything. I have a serious problem with that. My friends make fun of me for it. It kind of feels weird to not let Siri write this down for me. (I’m not being serious.)

I don’t know if this is oversharing, I’m just not used to this.

Bye.”

—

Hamzah titled his head as he looked at the neatly folded and decorated letter sent by GamingJournalingReader. The way this person wrote was so detailed and intricate, the signature vanilla lingered in the air for a while after he opened the letter. Groaning when he turned his vision to his monstrosity of a letter. He was reusing old envelopes as his new envelopes, his paper being from an old notebook he bought when he first moved into the apartment to journal (which failed.)

His writing improved, a little less dry and more comfortable. But still, it missed that hidden element.

Whatever! It doesn’t matter. Why does he need to impress this random person on the internet? It’s not the end of the world if his letters aren’t the most presentable, all that mattered was that it was perfectly readable and both parties seem to be fine with it (for the most part on his behalf.)

Hamzah went over to the kitchen to feed Red and Blue before he leaves to meet up with Martin to film another eating in a cultural restaurant vlog.

His lips curled into a smile as he recalled something: “I was happy to see that you got and responded to my letter.” Something about that line—it felt real. Maybe it was the novelty of it, or the way it was phrased with such casual care. The kind of care you get when someone, even on the other side of a screen or a thousand miles away, takes the time to reach out. It’s only been a month or so since they met. He already somewhat felt the companionship he was longing for. The person who was asking him about himself, wondering how he is even if it wasn’t fully genuine. It felt nice to have someone willingly wonder how he is.

Red squawked from his cage in the corner, snapping Hamzah out of his thoughts. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, calm down," he muttered, moving over to the kitchen counter. He filled their food bowls, watching as Blue immediately dug in, while Red took a more dignified approach, nibbling delicately.

As he prepared their water and cleaned their area quickly, he caught his reflection in the microwave door. His hair was a mess, and his shirt—he hadn’t even bothered to iron it. He wasn’t in the mood

Hamzah grabbed his jacket from the couch in his living room, walking past his coffee table where his letter sat. He took a final glance at it, wondering whether he should be embarrassed by his own letter. ‘It’s fine’, he thought. After all, the words would speak for themselves, wouldn’t they? And wasn’t that all that mattered?

Besides, he seemed to get like this every time he wrote his letters. Every single Thursday, he’d sit and stare at his letter—beating it down and comparing it to his penpal’s letter. Or when he twists his lips around while he looks at it, thinking it’s bland and that it needs more decorations like how GamingJournalingReader’s letters would be. “Whatever.” He whispered.

With one last deep breath, he grabbed his keys beside the letter and headed for the front door.

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

I get the whole Siri dependency. But isn’t that why they made Siri anyway? You’re just getting your money’s worth. Writing by hand is like an old-school challenge but kind of nice, right? And YES! Emoji stickers would make this 10 times better.

It’s kind of funny because when I got your letter, it was snowing for me too! I couldn’t get to my mail box until two days later, which kind of explains why this letter will also be sent late to you. Sorry, Mrs.FortniteFishingJournalist!

On a good note… I FOUND SOME SILLY SMILEY FACE STICKERS!! I’ll send some to you in my envelope, if you want to make it sad; just draw a pout on its face and it’ll all be good.

My question for this letter is: do you have any pets? You don’t have to share names! Just a yes or no. Or you can ignore my question. It’s okay as well.

I had a pet pigeon for a while, not actually but it would jump on the rails of my apartment’s balcony and pick at an empty ashtray for two hours every morning. Named it: trashy. Because, I’d leave it be then it’ll start trashing my balcony for no reason!

Anyway, how was your week? Mine was still snowy. I hope yours was warmer than before.

With love and kisses

GamingJournalingReader”

—

“Martin’s and my friends are coming over next week.” Mandy announced over the phone, “do you wanna come? It’s a bigger party this time, some of Claire’s friends are coming over.”

You sighed on the other side of the phone, your agony made Mandy frown. “Oh no. Why?” She immediately asked, using her shoulder to hold her phone close to her ear while she fed Fish and Carl. “I don’t know… I haven’t gone to a party in a while.” You message the bridge of your nose, thinking about being in a crowded place where you don’t know ninety percent of the people there.

“Girl. It’s like twelve people max.”

“And only two of which I know!” You argued back, closing the book that sat neatly on your lap. You uncrossed your legs, standing up to walk around the room while you talked to your friend.

Mandy remained silent for a second, seemingly unaware that you would agree if she would just promise that she won’t leave you alone with some strangers. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Just knock it out, it’s in my apartment, you won’t lose me.” And the key answer was declared, allowing you to mumble an “okay.” With a not so convinced tone.

Your friend let out a dramatic sigh on the other end of the phone. “I promise I’ll be your social bodyguard.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of Mandy as your personal bodyguard in a sea of people you barely knew. Still, the idea of pushing through your discomfort for a night in the company of friends—letting go of the fact that most of them were friends of friends—was oddly reassuring. “Fine, but if I end up hiding in the bathroom, you’ll know it’s because I’m at my social breaking point.”

“You can lock yourself in there as long as you want, I’ll bring you snacks through the door if I have to,” Mandy teased, clearly delighted that you were coming around. “It’ll be fun! You’ve been cooped up in that apartment for weeks now.” Mandy's voice softened, genuine now. “You know I would never drag you into anything you don’t want to do. Just come for a bit. If you need an out, I’ll get you out.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and for the first time in the conversation, you felt a tiny shift in your anxiety. It probably wouldn’t be so bad. Right?

—

It was totally bad.

You blinked. The living room was dimly lit, with warm golden lights strung up around the walls, the low thrum of music in the background. It was cozy, but too crowded. Mandy’s apartment wasn’t massive, which made this feel a whole lot more uncomfortable. Mandy’s cat, Fish, darted between your legs and Carl was curled up beside you on the couch, blissfully ignoring the humans around him.

Okay, maybe you are totally being dramatic. It wasn’t all that bad but you did feel like the odd man out. Everyone was a little awkward with you, unsure of how you’ll take their humor, trying their best to have the best first impression. All of it ends in them having conversations together about things you won’t get—excluding you without noticing.

Mandy went out to grab more drinks for everyone, NOT keeping her promise about being your PSB (Personal Social Bodyguard.)

That’s an unfair way of thinking. Wasn’t it? She should have fun without you holding her down. You pet Carl to calm your thoughts. The sound of folks mingling around you soon becomes background noise as you smile down at Carl.

Suddenly, the couch dipped beside you, and your head subconsciously turned toward the shift in weight, half-expecting it to be Mandy. Instead, you were met with a guy you hadn’t noticed before, his posture relaxed, with a quiet awkwardness that immediately made him seem more like someone who was trying to fit in. Just like you.

You blinked, a little surprised. He had messy, dark, curly hair and an effortlessly laid-back vibe—like he’d just thrown on whatever was comfortable, and somehow it suited him perfectly. His eyes scanned your face for a moment, his eyebrows raising as if processing your unfamiliar presence.

Oh! You know him! That’s Martin’s friend. “Hamzah?” you asked, the name slipping out before you even realized it. For a split second, the guy’s expression froze, a flash of surprise crossing his face. It was less of a ‘That’s not my name’ look, more of a ‘How do you know my name?’ look. His brows furrowed as he glanced at you, clearly puzzled.

This is so awkward.

“…that’s me,” he said slowly. His voice was low and steady, but there was a slight hesitation in it, like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the sudden attention. “How do you...?”

You quickly cleared your throat, hoping to clear up the confusion. “Sorry, I’m Mandy’s friend,” you explained. “That’s how I know you. You’re Martin's friend? I’ve heard her mention you a couple of times.”

He nodded, still looking at you with a quiet curiosity. His lips twitched into a small, almost sheepish smile, but he didn’t seem entirely at ease. "Oh. Yeah," he said, his voice a little softer now, like he was processing the new piece of information. “She doesn’t talk shit about you.” You reassured, although now that you said it; it makes Mandy look guilty with what you accused.

Hamzah let out a short breathy laugh, “Good to know.” His tone was humorous, almost like he sensed your slight embarrassment and tried to let you know that he won’t take it negatively. “I didn’t realize Mandy had a... friend here. I mean, I didn’t know she invited a friend.”

Both of you are doing horrible in wording your statements, everything could be taken backhanded but you both ignored your troubled sentences and continued your awkward conversation.

You shifted your position, trying to make the space between you feel less awkward. “Yeah, I’m kind of the ‘out-of-place’ one tonight,” you said with a half-laugh. “I don’t know anyone here except Mandy and I met Martin only a handful of times.”

Hamzah nodded, biting his lip nervously as he turned to look around for Martin. You noticed what he was doing, letting him know where the couple was: “Mandy and Martin left to grab some drink.” He turned to look at you as you answered, nodding his head again.

You both sat in a brief, awkward silence, both of you still trying to find your footing in the conversation. You could feel the tension in the air, but it was the kind of tension that felt more like a shared experience—neither of you seemed comfortable in the party setting, but at least you weren’t alone in it.

Trying to break the silence, you thought of something Mandy had mentioned earlier, something that seemed like an easy topic to latch onto. “Mandy was telling me you and Martin went camping recently,” you said, your tone a little hesitant as you watched his reaction. “She was saying it was... pretty intense? You know, like, the kind of camping where you actually rough it.”

Hamzah’s eyes flickered briefly, as though he was momentarily caught off guard, but the tension in his shoulders relaxed a bit as he processed what you said. There was a slight smile on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, his voice sounding a little more grounded now. “It was... an adventure, for sure.” He leaned back slightly on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “Martin insisted on doing the whole thing the real way—no hotels, no water bottles, just tents and a campfire. It was... an experience, to say the least.”

You couldn’t help but smile, imagining the chaos of two guys trying to make the best of a rough camping trip. “That sounds... brutal, honestly. Like, no luxuries? I’m sure it was fun in some way, but... wow.”

Hamzah chuckled softly, the sound deep and quiet, like he was remembering something particularly funny—or maybe just trying to make light of the situation. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever missed a good shower more in my life. And the food—The food was awful.”

He gave a small, genuine laugh, and for a moment, you both shared a look, a moment of connection over something completely unrelated to the current social chaos. His smile was genuine now, the tension from before slipping away just a little more.

“How long have you and Mandy been friends?” He asked, finding footing in the conversation. You hummed at the question, “around a year ago maybe?”

“I lost my phone in this beaten up, old amusement park when I was babysitting. I was lowkey freaking out and she must’ve seen me from afar. Held the kids with me and ran around looking for my phone.”

“Mandy would do that?”

“Only a year ago.”

Both of you giggle at your combined joke. Hamzah’s playfulness coming out, your heart weirdly fluttering at the sight; not weirdly actually… Hamzah was really cute. You knew that since Mandy showed you pictures of him and her boyfriend. But you don’t want to feed that crush too much, you knew you wouldn’t see him a lot—what could possibly tie you guys together anyway? It seems like you guys wouldn’t have anything in common.

The sound of the front door creaking open pulled your attention away from Hamzah. When Mandy stepped inside, you instinctively stood up from the couch to walk toward her. As you glanced back at Hamzah, you caught the subtle flutter of his eyes in your direction, and your heartbeat quickened in response. “It was nice to meet you!” you said, offering a polite smile. “It was nice to meet you too,” he replied, his voice soft, and though the words were sincere, an awkward tension lingered between you two, faint but noticeable.

—

“GamingJournalingReader

My week was cold too but definitely better than last week… It's so funny how similar our weather matches up.

Pigeon? That’s unique. I have two cats, as I have mentioned before I’m pretty forgetful. I decided to name them very common names that won’t ever be forgotten. Red and Blue. Isn’t that so convenient? Never understood the hassle with names. I think our love is one sided, they only love me when it’s feeding time. I’m sure you understand, with your pigeon and all.

I get busy sometimes and can’t be there emotionally for them. That kind of makes me feel like shit, but I need someone emotionally too. You don’t see me complaining like they do. Kidding. Obviously.

The stickers are so fucking cool. You’re a lifesaver, honestly. How do you even have that many different options of stickers? Do you make these? Or do you collect them? So many questions, so little answers. You’re such a mystery…

Mr.GamingJournalingReader,

Teach me your way of stickering.”

—

Hamzah leaned against the counter, sipping from a cup of iced coffee he'd made. The cold, bitter liquid slid down his throat, a jolt of wakefulness that kept the remnants of sleep at bay. His gaze flicked over to the cats, Red and Blue, happily munching on their meals. Their rhythmic chewing was the only sound in the kitchen, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly still.

Then, his phone buzzed on the counter, its vibrations cutting through the silence. Hamzah glanced at the screen. It was a notification from Martin: “Did you confirm with the camera guy for the vlog next week?”

He set his cup down and breathed out slowly, trying to shake off the weight of the message. He glanced back down at the cats again, watching them finish up their breakfast. The silence of the moment was a balm, familiar and comforting, like an old friend who never demanded anything more than your company. It was his life of solitude, his sanctuary.

Hamzah groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of the question. The vlog was something that had been hanging over his head for a week—something he was technically responsible for (since it was his idea) but had zero desire to manage at the moment. The thought of reaching out to the camera guy, arranging schedules, figuring out who was doing what, made him want to crawl back into bed and pretend nothing exists. The last thing he wanted to do on this quiet morning was deal with anything.

But of course, his mind wasn’t content to stay in that peaceful place for long. His thoughts, as they often did, drifted back to something that had been on his mind more than he cared to admit: a night from last week.

It was last Friday. The day had started like any other��quiet, unremarkable. He'd been lounging around, enjoying the feeling of having no plans, no obligations, when his phone buzzed with a message from Claire.

“Hamzah, are you sure you don’t want to come by? Last minute change of plans, it’ll be chill, I swear. Just us, maybe a few others, but it’ll be super low-key.”

When he showed up, though, he quickly realized the party wasn’t exactly what he expected. The place was louder than he anticipated, a mix of chatter and music spilling out into the small apartment’s entryway. And Claire’s promise of “just a few others” had been a stretch of the truth. The living room was filled with unfamiliar faces. And he had to shake their hands with jorts and a minecraft shirt on. The only laundry he finished this week.

But one thing stood out to him from that whole night; her.

They were both somewhat in the same social hierarchy in that party, weirdly finding comfort within each other's unfamiliarity. He never thought he’d be ‘getting to know someone’ this smoothly before, although it was awkward. She was carrying the conversation pretty well. Remained him of someone but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

And she’s pretty. Did he make a fool out of himself in front of a pretty girl…? He shut his eyes, breathing in to relax himself. “She asked me one question, I asked her. Fair conversation.” He reassured himself, like if he said it outloud he’d feel any better.

He didn’t.

“This is stupid.”

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

Mysterious? Me? No way. I think you only think that because you don’t know my name. I feel like I share a lot more than you think. You know about my pet pigeon, and not a lot of people know about that beautiful creature!

Anyway, CATS! I love your cats' names! I get you with the whole forgetting thing, I forget some important things too. Just a part of life, isn’t it?

Random but I really love talking to you. You’re starting to feel like a longtime friend I had since middle school. Can you believe we’ve been talking for two months? Maybe a little under that but LET ME PRETEND LIKE IT’S A BIG MILESTONE! Crazy, feels like yesterday. One tear crying emoji. (I don’t have that as a sticker. I have failed my sticker master skills.)

Oh! I have some TEA. Not really tea but… listen, girl. I went to a party the other day, and I met my friend’s boyfriend’s friend. I know it's confusing. Anyway, he was cute. Not like smash cute, but like… wife me up cute. That could be the same for you, they’re kinda different for me.

I don’t think I can ever date him though… our conversation was short and I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. Unless some miracle happens. Knowing my luck there won’t be any.

Isn’t this such a long letter? Sorry girly pop, got too excited telling you about my party crush.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader”

—

Hamzah blinked as he read the letter in front of him.

“Holy shit.” How could he forget? Such a small little perfect detail about this whole big ordeal of a pen-pal relationship they had.

“But…listen, girl.”

“Sorry girly pop,”

She thinks he’s a girl. That was the whole reason why they met, he changed his gender to female. Hamzah sat back in his chair, staring at the letter in his hands with wide eyes. The words echoed in his mind. "Sorry, girly pop." and "But... listen, girl" both said so casually, so warmly, and for the first time, it really hit him. ‘She thinks I'm a girl.’

Two months. He hadn’t expected to get this far, heck he didn’t even expect the first letter to begin with, he thought this whole thing was dead and gone as soon as he logged out of that website that night. A week later, when he got the letter, he somehow managed to forget the most crucial part of this whole dilemma. The only reason why she feels comfortable enough to talk to him in the first place is because she thinks he’s a woman. A woman around his age, who completely understands her girl talks and problems.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” Hamzah ran his hands through his flattened curls, his hand resting on the back of his neck when he reached it. “Shit.” The only words that managed to leave his lips were no good to his current situation. He can’t do anything. There is nothing he could do to fix this. It’s been two months—as she said—two months built on a lie.

Hamzah exhaled a breath, his eyes skimming over the words as if he could somehow read them differently, like they would magically change if he focused hard enough. But they didn't. The same sentences, the same affectionate tone. Just when he felt like he had something, something that filled the void he noticed within himself, the void he’s been complaining about to all his friends. Everything crumbles on him, over something so silly and stupid. His lips twisted as a splash of guilt pulled on his heart. She thought he was someone he wasn’t, someone he couldn’t be, and there was no way he could fix that. And it was all because of one click, and a forgetful mind.

He glanced at the desk in front of him, cluttered with papers and billing mail—distractions. His mind was buzzing, a loud cacophony of thoughts and what-ifs.

He had to admit the truth: he’d lied to her from the very beginning. The whole thing—it was a lie. Sure, he never outright said he was a girl. But, the tag of female under his name was enough to hold his fate. Fate he wasn’t ready to face. Not yet. He never expected it to go this far. He hadn’t planned on actually forming any sort of real connection, hadn’t planned on actually caring about her feelings. Especially since this whole website was—as he thought—bait for scammers and weirdos. But now, after two months of letters, of laughing at stickers she’d give him and sharing minor intimate details about one another, he couldn’t just pull out. This weird attachment he had didn’t allow him so.

His fingers drummed on the edge of the desk as his mind ran wild with ideas—what if he told her the truth? What if he just came clean and explained everything? But no. No, that would only make things worse. She’d be hurt, probably angry. Never speak to him again. She’ll think he’s some sort of creep, praying on her or something. And what would he be left with then? The same empty, hollow feeling he had now, only worse.

But why does he care? It’s just a random person he met that doesn’t actually know him.

Hamzah leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His thoughts circled around one word, one solution that was simple but painful, though probably less painful than finding out that the girl you’ve been talking to the past two months was a twenty two year old man that does YouTube for a living.

That word was: ignore.

He didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to just disappear from her life without an explanation, but he could already feel the weight of the lie pressing on him. Ignoring her, pretending like everything was as it used to be and that nothing had happened, was the only way to avoid confrontation. The only way to let this fizzle out without dealing with the mess. It was easy, anonymous, and clean.

He would just stop responding. Stop mailing back. And eventually she’ll forget. Only two months, right? It shouldn’t get her hung up too much… right?

He crumpled the letter in his hand, tossing it into the trash. For the first time in two months, Hamzah felt nothing but disheartenment on a Thursday night. Both the stress and the weight of it all was something he couldn’t shake off.

All he could think about right now was how his friend must feel. It didn’t matter how hurt he was about not being able to contact her again. She seemed so excited, so eager about how deep their friendship was growing in such a short period of time.

He spun his chair around, staring at the darkened window. His reflection stared back, a guy who had somehow stumbled into something real by pretending to be someone else. It wasn’t even intentional—at least, not entirely. When he’d checked that little box on the website, it was supposed to be a joke. A way to bypass the site’s foot obsessed weirdos and see who he’ll meet.

He hadn’t expected her. At all.

Red circling around him snapped him out of his thoughts, turning to the purring cat to carry it. “Let’s feed you, come on.” He got up and walked to the kitchen where Blue also ran to his comfort.

That’s it. Back to square one.

—

Martin huffed, hands rushing to massage his temple. “You can’t be serious.” His tone filled with irritation. Hamzah looked at him with indifference, almost an ‘I told you so’ attitude burned in his eyes.

Mandy overheard her boyfriend's anger grow, peeking from their kitchen. “What’s wrong?” She asked, a frown forming between her eyebrows as her concern (and slight annoyance) grew.

Martin groaned, letting his hands fall dramatically to his sides. “The guy canceled. After a whole week of silence, he texts saying he’s not coming.” Hamzah leaned back against the armrest of the couch, his expression still unreadable. “Told you hiring someone off Craigslist wasn’t it,” he said flatly, crossing his arms. “Should’ve gone with someone we know.”

Mandy walked further into the room, her brow still furrowed. “Wait, what? The cameraman? For the exploring video?” She looked between the two men, her voice rising in disbelief.

“Yes, the cameraman,” Martin snapped, pacing the small living room. “He ghosted us for a week and then decided, at the last minute, that he’s not available. Who does that?!” He waved his phone around in frustration.

Hamzah shrugged. “Probably saw a better gig pop up. It happens.”

“Did you pay him?” Mandy said, her gaze fell on her boyfriend. “No, but we agreed with him on an amount and told him what we’re doing.” Hamzah responded before Martin could, “maybe that’s why he said no…” Martin muttered. “Maybe he felt like we’re under paying him.” He continued.

Mandy glared at her boyfriend in disbelief, “I highly doubt that.”

Mandy crosses her arms as she rests the weight of her body on her left leg. “What if you guys… I don’t know, do it yourselves?”

“Do it ourselves?” Martin echoed, looking at her like she’d suggested they film with a potato. “That’ll be too much work, plus we don’t have a tripod or anything.”

“Why didn’t y'all have back up?” Mandy shot back, her tone defensive. “Don’t you think about what could go wrong when it comes to this?”

Hamzah let out a breath, the sound making both Martin and Mandy turn his way, “look, there’s no point in arguing about anything right now. We should think about another video idea to do.”

Mandy uncrossed her arms, her lips opening to say something but she hesitated. Martin looked at her, tilting his head as he waited for what she wanted to say. “I might… have a friend that’ll be willing to help you. Except, I'm not so sure about her skills.”

Martin was at his wit’s end. “We need to finish this video as soon as possible. I don’t care, we just need a third person to film the both of us.” He turned to Hamzah, seeking his approval. Hamzah still gave him an indifferent look, shrugging.

“Who’s this friend?” Martin asked.

“My friend that showed up to the last movie night we had.”

“The shy one?”

“She’s not shy,” Mandy corrected. “She just didn’t know anyone.”

Hamzah’s interest was piqued at the discussion of such a friend. “Is she the one you told about me and Martin going camping?”

Mandy seemed surprised that Hamzah knew about that. “She talked to you?”

Hamzah nodded. “For a bit, yeah.”

“Yeah. Her,” Mandy confirmed.

Martin spoke, breaking them out of their question and answer session: “Alright. Call her. See if she’s available. The worst she can say is no.” Gesturing to Mandy to go on and call.

Mandy nodded, already reaching for her phone. “She’s usually pretty chill. If she’s free, I’m sure she won’t mind helping out.”

The room fell silent as they watched Mandy’s phone, the tension building as if the entire project depended on this one text.

Finally, Mandy’s phone chimed. She read the message, her expression brightening. “She’s in.” Martin sighed in relief at the news. Weirdly enough, Hamzah felt like he was growing nervous at the thought of meeting her again.

“That’s awesome, tell her to come over later tonight.” Martin pressed, moving to the coffee table to grab his phone. Mandy nodded once again, her thumbs typing out his message.

Hamzah shuffled in his spot. Why the hell does he feel nervous? He talked to this girl once and they don’t have to talk much now, she’s there to film and that’s that. That’s… that. It’s not that deep.

Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t know her much. (As if he knew the cameraman from Craigslist any better)

“Come on. We have to go grab some stuff.” Martin nudged Hamzah’s shoulder to grab his attention. Hamzah cleared his throat in response, nodding and following behind him.

—

“Okay! Three, two… one. I’m recording.”

Martin let out a light laugh. “You don’t need to count us down. Just make sure you’ve got a good angle,” he teased.

You clicked your tongue in irritation. “I know. It’s just a habit. Don’t laugh,” you shot back, a little too quickly.

It’s quite interesting that you had a longer conversation with Hamzah two weeks ago than with Martin in total since you met. That made sense with the way you seem to still get irritated at his jabs.

“Why are you staring at me? Just start already,” you pressed, trying to maintain focus on the screen. Hamzah, standing in the corner of the frame, covered his mouth to hide a grin. Watching you get frustrated with Martin was, apparently, very entertaining. The only person who has ever gotten angry like this over his jokes was Mandy.

Now he sees why you guys are friends.

But, it did seem out of character for you to get this riled up, not that he’d know you that much to know that you aren’t being yourself, but the energy around you and the words you spoke seemed off. There was something in your expression��tight, uneasy—that struck him as odd. You weren’t just frustrated. You were nervous. No… anxious.

But this wasn’t the shy or uncertain kind of anxious. It was something sharper, heavier. Fear.

Who could blame you? The house was unnerving. The kind of place that felt alive with all the wrong things—creaking wood, rustling leaves, and the distant snap of twigs that made you whip your head around. And then there was the eerie way the last traces of sunlight bled into the horizon, swallowing the shadows until everything was steeped in twilight. Even Hamzah could feel the chill creeping up his spine to his neck.

Still, despite that, Hamzah couldn’t fully shake the amusement bubbling inside him. A part of him—the part that usually found humor in tense situations—felt guilty for being entertained. But another part, quieter and harder to define, wasn’t amused because you were scared. It was something else entirely. He found it a little cute.

The way you tried to cover your fear, rushing Martin and him to get through the video intro as quickly as possible, only made it more obvious. Your voice was firm, but your eyes darted around, scanning the shadows as if they might come alive. It was endearing in a way; Hamzah wasn’t sure how to explain, even to himself.

So, he looked away, trying to focus on something else. Whatever it was he was feeling, this wasn’t the time to figure it out. Not here, not now.

“Hamzah, can you move to the left a little? You’re out of frame.” Your order ensured his eyes would fall back upon your face. You gave him a flat smile, gesturing for him to move. “Oh, yeah. Okay.” He returned the smile, moving a little closer to Martin.

—

Martin huffed as they approached his apartment, Hamzah beside him with his hands shoved into his pockets. You followed behind them, your fingers delicately wrapped around your old, beat-up camera, a splurge purchase from years ago. “Never thought you’d come in handy,” you mumbled to the device as if it could respond, scrolling through the footage to ensure there were no visual errors with the lens or other issues.

Filming with the two boys was chaotic. Seeing Martin fully in character made you squirm at first, but the chuckle that escaped Hamzah’s lips when you both glanced at each other afterward became the highlight of the experience. There was something about him. Every time you locked eyes, it felt like a reminder of… something. Something you both shared that night weeks ago.

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head slightly in an attempt to steer your thoughts away from this dangerous train of thought. What were you doing? It’s not like that. He’s probably just nice but awkward. It doesn’t mean anything. Those stares don’t mean anything.

“Hello?” Martin’s long, exaggerated drawl of the letter L snapped you out of your daydream. Your head shot up—from the camera to his face—and he asked, “Are you going home?”

You blinked, almost as if you didn’t register his question. You had, of course, but you’d completely forgotten that you’d Ubered to his apartment for the sake of time. Now, it was 1 a.m., and catching an Uber at this hour felt like asking for trouble. You shut your eyes, groaning at your predicament. “Fuck.” Opening your eyes, you looked at the two men standing in front of you. “No. I have to get back home, but…”

You trailed off, not wanting to make it their problem. “Never mind.” You waved your hand dismissively. “I’ll see you guys around.”

Martin tilted his head. “No, no. What’s wrong?” he pressed.

You sighed. “I… it’s nothing serious.”

Hamzah stood there quietly, unsure of what to say since he didn’t know you well enough to bombard you with questions like Martin.

“Do you not have a ride?” Martin guessed.

You smirked at how quickly he pieced it together. “I Ubered here, but I think the metro’s been down all week because of the snowstorm…” Your worries tumbled out like word vomit. Once you started, you couldn’t stop.

Martin glanced over at Hamzah, who remained silent beside him. “Well, Hamzah came by car, so…” He looked at his friend. “Can you take her home?”

Hamzah had never wanted to punch Martin more than he did in that moment.

He couldn’t say no, not without looking and feeling like an asshole. The only option left was to press the big, red button labeled YES. He tried to remain calm, forcing his face into a neutral expression that didn’t betray the fact that he was internally freaking out about being alone in a car with a girl. A girl who was quickly becoming his friend-of-a-friend crush. A total hotshot he couldn’t stop staring at.

“Y-Yeah. Totally,” Hamzah stammered, finally turning his gaze to meet yours.

A smile spread across your face. “You don’t have to. Seriously, I can just call a friend.”

“It’s… too cold out. They might keep you waiting. I’ll drop you off,” Hamzah replied, surprised at how smoothly the words escaped his mouth. His tone was calm and collected—or at least, that’s how it sounded to him.

“Well, thank you.” You smiled, your eyes seeming to sparkle under the dim streetlights. Or maybe that was just his imagination.

“Great. Email me the footage by tomorrow, yeah?” Martin interrupted the moment, walking backward toward the apartment building’s entrance.

“Okay!” you called back.

“Thanks, cameraman. I owe you,” Martin added before turning on his heels and disappearing through the door.

—

The silence was heavy in the car, almost deafening. His cologne mixed faintly with the lingering scent of weed, a combination you hadn’t expected but found oddly comforting. You noticed the steady grip he kept on the steering wheel—calm and deliberate. Maybe he was being careful because of you. The thought made you smile faintly, but you quickly pressed your lips into a pout, not wanting to look like a weirdo smiling at nothing.

Still, the silence grew too loud to bear. You glanced at him, stealing a moment to take him in. ’Well, isn’t he a pretty sight?’ you thought, biting back another smile. Searching for something to say, you finally settled on, “So, what do you like to do in your free time?” The second the words left your mouth, you winced internally. Hobbies? Really? What are you, twelve?

Hamzah seemed a little surprised by the question. His hands flexed on the wheel as if debating whether to glance at you, but his eyes stayed on the road. “I, um…” He paused, as though the answer had caught in his throat. A fleeting memory of him typing his hobbies onto that embarrassing pen-pal site flitted through his mind. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “I like fishing.”

“Fishing?”

“You asked—don’t judge,” he replied, his tone defensive but light.

You giggled softly. “I’m not judging. You just don’t strike me as the fishing type.” Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the seat. “Actually, I met someone recently who also likes fishing, so it’s not that strange.” You shrugged, still smiling.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?” you clarified.

“Yeah, obviously,” he added quickly, his awkwardness making your smile widen. There was something so endearing about the way he spoke to you, like he was trying hard not to trip over his words.

“Um… gaming,” you answered simply.

“Like Roblox?”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “What?” His pitch rose in mock indignation, the tension in the car dissolving as his comfort grew.

“No, like Fortnite,” you said, deadpan.

Hamzah shot you a quick side-eye, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Fortnite? You? Fortnite…?”

You raised an eyebrow, curious where this was going. “You are not defeating the sexist allegations right now.”

Hamzah huffed a laugh, waving his hand as if to dismiss the idea. “No, no, it’s not—,” he said, his grin still in place. “It’s just… you seem like you’ve got your life together, that’s all.”

“What does that even mean?” you asked, laughing at the vague explanation.

“Teenagers, losers, and weird YouTubers—like Martin and me—play Fortnite,” Hamzah teased. “Wait, so you’re saying I fall under the loser category?” you asked, leaning forward slightly, forcing him to glance at you. He stammered, his grip tightening on the wheel as your eyes locked on him. “N-No. I don’t think you do.”

“Right. ’Cause I’m not wearing a Fortnite jacket when I leave my house,” you quipped, a grin tugging at your lips. Hamzah chuckled again, shaking his head. “That—and the fact that you’re too pretty. Pretty people aren’t losers, no matter what they like.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unintentional. You froze, the unexpected compliment catching you off guard. At the same time, Hamzah’s half-smile faltered as the weight of what he’d just said hit him. His eyes stayed glued to the road, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t dare look at you—didn’t want to see your reaction.

“Well,” you began after a beat, your tone light but steady, “you aren’t so bad yourself. So, I don’t know what your point is here.”

The casual way you said it made him glance at you, almost involuntarily. This time, you weren’t looking at him, your eyes fixed on the road ahead. But he caught the faintest hint of a shy smile playing on your lips, your cheeks slightly pink. You turned your head toward the window as if trying to hide it, leaving him wondering if he’d imagined it altogether.

“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the GPS chimed in, breaking the moment. Hamzah slowed the car, pulling over to the side of the road near your apartment complex. You sighed softly, taking in the sight of your building. The conversation had been brief but charged, and the realization that your time together was over left a quiet sadness in its wake.

“Thanks for the ride.” You said, the shyness you once seemed to have changed into a casual expression, turning to face him with a grin. Hamzah fully met your gaze for what it had seemed the first time. “It’s cool.” He responded.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He nodded, the sound of the door clicking open prompted him to look away to get ready to drive off. “Sorry.” His sudden apology made you look back—half of your body already out of the vehicle.

Your confusion caused him to continue: “if I made you uncomfortable.” He paused, “it kinda just—”

“I wasn’t.” You cut him off. “Besides, I meant what I said too.”

Hamzah kept his eyes ahead, too shy to meet your burning eye contact; but he managed to respond quietly, “okay,” a soft smile tugging at his lips. His fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, betraying his nervous energy.

You lingered for a moment, one foot still on the pavement, your hand resting on the door. The air between you felt charged, as if both of you were holding back from saying something more.

“Night, Hamzah,” you said finally, your voice softer than you intended.

“Goodnight,” he replied, daring to glance at you one last time. The way the streetlights caught the edges of your smile made his chest tighten. He wanted to say more—but the words never came.

You stepped back, gently shutting the door, and with a small wave, you turned and walked toward your building. Hamzah watched until you disappeared inside, the faintest trace of your perfume still lingering in the car.

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

How are you? It’s been a week, and I haven’t heard from you! I hope everything’s okay on your end. Did I say something in my last letter that upset you? Honestly, I can’t even remember what I wrote, but if I did, I’m sorry.

I have news though. Big news. Remember wife me up boy? Well, he drove me home the other day, and we joked around a bit… but here’s the kicker: he called me pretty. Yeah. Out loud. Unintentionally. The context doesn’t even matter (and is way too long to explain here), but just know that I may or may not have flirted back a little.

He’s so cute, though. I could tell he didn’t mean to say it, and honestly, it made it even better. Like, who just accidentally blurts that out? Him, apparently.

But don’t get your hopes up for me—nothing will come of it. I don’t think we’ll see each other again unless fate decides to get dramatic. Plus, our mutual friend would probably hate me if I caught feelings for him, so it’s better to let this little moment stay in the past.

For now, this stays between us. You’re officially the keeper of my secret feelings. I hope you’re doing okay and sending all the good vibes your way. Write back soon—I miss hearing from you.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader”

—

Hamzah blinked as his eyes followed each word. He promised himself he’ll ignore GamingJournalingReader’s mail from now on, even said he won’t pick it up from his mailbox. But there he is tracing the words back with his index finger, finding himself smiling at the mere mention of his penpal.

After reaching the halfway point, something felt off. Like he heard this story before, deja vu. He frowned, tapping the paper lightly against his palm as he tried to piece it together. The details were familiar in a way he couldn’t explain. The car ride, the accidental compliment, the blush hidden behind casual words. It all felt like a story he already knew… or one he’d lived.

His heart thudded once, hard, as the realization began to settle.

“No way,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He glanced back at the letter, the corners of his lips twitched into a disbelieving smile.

Hamzah sat back in his chair, the letter still in his hands, his pulse thrumming in his ears. He read the lines again, slower this time, dissecting every word as if they’d shift under his scrutiny. The way she described him—the car ride, the compliment, the awkwardness—it was all too specific. Too real.

His hand ran through his hair, tugging lightly at the strands as if it would help untangle his thoughts. “No way,” he said to the empty room, but even as the words left his mouth, he didn’t believe them.

The coincidence was too perfect.

Hamzah folded the letter neatly and set it on the table, but his eyes lingered on it. A small laugh escaped him, dry and nervous. His hand reached for the bottom drawer of his work table, as soon as he pulled it open the sight of the crumbled letter of last week greeted him.

Hands running to meet contact with the crumbled paper, grabbing all the letters that layer underneath it. Throwing them on the table, his anxiety at an all time high. If this means what he thinks it means… The thought only made him shiver.

His eyes glazed over each word.

“Anyway, how was your week? Mine was still snowy.”

“I went to a party the other day, and I met my friend’s boyfriend’s friend.”

“Our conversation was short and I don’t think I’ll ever see him again.”

“Sorry girly pop, got too excited telling you about my party crush.”

“Party crush.”

This can’t be real. It can’t be.

His mind raced as each sentence clicked into place, tying together moments he’d lived but never thought twice about. The snowy week. The party. The friend’s boyfriend’s friend. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the latest letter again, scanning it for more clues he might’ve missed.

It was her.

It had to be her.

The sheer impossibility of it made him laugh under his breath, but the sound was strained, laced with disbelief. His penpal—the girl he’d poured a piece of himself into, letter by letter—was the same person who’d sat in his passenger seat just days ago, teasing him about fishing and Fortnite. The same person who’d made him nervous enough to blurt out she was pretty.

Hamzah leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he stared at the pile of letters. He buried his face in his hands, groaning softly. This wasn’t just some coincidence—it felt bigger than that, like some cosmic joke he wasn’t sure he was ready to laugh at.

Like the universe promised him a fate where he can’t ignore the vague mistake he made when he pressed that ‘female’ button.

This just keeps getting worse.

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

Are you dead? I’m actually getting worried now lol. You’re probably busy, aren’t you? This is making me feel like the unemployed friend >:(

Joking. Not really. Maybe.

But you know what I’m not joking about? Seeing ‘wife me up’ guy. My friend is hosting this party for her boyfriend, it’s for a milestone he hit! I was invited. And his friend (cute guy) is most likely invited too. I think you’re putting two and two together. WE ARE SO BACK.

Get back to me when you can! I miss you.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader”

—

Your lips puckered as you scrutinized your reflection in the mirror. Was this dress a little too much for a casual dinner? You’d had all of last week to plan your outfit, yet here you were, second-guessing yourself at the last minute.

Nothing in your closet seemed to meet your standards. Everything was either too plain, too formal, or too revealing for a winter night out. Frustration bubbled up as you sifted through your options.

You sighed heavily, your grip tightening on your phone as though willing it to stop you from texting Mandy and bailing. You sank onto the edge of your bed, trying to calm your spiraling thoughts.

Why were you overthinking this so much? It was just dinner with Mandy, Martin, and Hamzah—Mandy, your close friend; Martin, her boyfriend; and Hamzah…

Hamzah.

The guy you’d totally flirted with last time, assuming you wouldn’t see him again for months. Yet, here you were, almost two weeks later, preparing to sit across from him at a celebration dinner. A dinner Martin insisted on hosting to thank you for your work on their abandoned house video, which had apparently performed so well that he felt the need to show his gratitude. And the fact that you refused any payment from both boys made his gratitude only worsen. “Great,” you muttered to yourself. “You really can’t back out now.”

This was for you, after all. You couldn’t skip it. You groaned, dragging your hands down the fabric of your dress to smooth it out as you stood. One last glance in the mirror made you hesitate, but you shook it off.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, resigning yourself to your chosen outfit. A knee’s length, wine-red velvet maxi dress, grabbing a large black leather jacket to cover your shoulders and warm you for the night.

The cold air nipped at your skin as you stepped out into the night, the soft velvet of your dress brushing against your hands as they moved with each step. You pulled your leather jacket tighter around your shoulders, boots crunching against the frosted ground.

The walk to the restaurant felt longer than it should have. Each step was weighed down by the thought of seeing Hamzah again. You kept reminding yourself it was just dinner to celebrate.

The restaurant came into view, its warm golden glow spilling out onto the street. You stopped short, peering through the glass. Mandy and Martin were already seated, laughing together as they huddled close. Across from them sat Hamzah, his hands folded in his lap, his shoulders stiff despite the casual setting. Your stomach twisted. He wasn’t looking at anyone, his gaze fixed somewhere over Martin’s shoulder.

You took a deep breath, adjusted your jacket, and pushed open the door. The chime above the entrance drew everyone’s attention. Mandy was the first to spot you, her face lighting up as she waved. “There she is!” she called, standing to pull you into a warm hug. “You look amazing!”

You nodded shyly, your grin easy. “Stop. Oh my god.”

Your eyes involuntarily peeked at the quiet figure still seated, Hamzah. He had turned toward you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he looked like he might say something, but he just gave you a curt nod and muttered, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, trying not to read into his clipped tone.

You took the seat Mandy gestured to—right beside Hamzah, in front of Mandy.

The conversation started off easy, mostly led by Mandy and Martin. They gushed about the video’s success, recounting how unexpectedly popular it had become. Hamzah chimed in here and there, but stayed mostly quiet, his eyes focused on his glass of water or the corner of the table.

Every so often, you’d catch him sneaking a glance at you, but the second he felt your eyes on him, he’d look away, his jaw tightening as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. It was awkward. Painfully so.

At one point, Martin cracked a joke about the abandoned house shoot, something about you jumping at a shadow, and Mandy let out a giggle. You couldn’t help but chuckle, too, but Hamzah barely reacted. His lips twitched into something like a smile before he took a long drink from his glass, his eyes focused mainly on Martin.

“You okay, Hamzah?” Mandy let out, leaning forward. He shrugged, forcing a casualness that didn’t quite land. “Yeah, just tired. Long day.” His fingers playing with the rim of his glass.

The rest of the dinner continued in a similar pattern—Mandy and Martin carrying the conversation while you tried not to notice how Hamzah barely addressed you directly. It was clear he was trying to act normal, but the stiffness in his posture and the way he avoided looking at you made it impossible to ignore.

Was it something about the car ride? God, maybe it is. Maybe he doesn’t know how to address the fact that you made him uncomfortable and brushed you off thinking he won’t see you again until months later—like you thought as well. You bit your lip as Mandy’s rant about Carl being clingy became background noise to your thoughts. Humming to what she was saying, responding strictly to the only few words that do end up registering into your brain.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of conversation and laughter, though Hamzah’s quiet tension never fully dissipated. By the time the check arrived, you couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed that the dinner was over. As the group began gathering their things, Mandy turned to you with a playful grin. “‘You walking home?”

You nod, putting your leather jacket back on you. “‘Home’s nearby.”

Mandy frowned slightly, glancing out at the frosty street beyond the restaurant windows. “You sure? It’s freezing out there.”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured her with a small smile. “It’s not a long walk.” Before Mandy could say more, Hamzah cleared his throat. “I can drive you,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, but still firm.

Huh…? you thought he was upset? Were you overthinking this again? I mean, if he was uncomfortable the first time he wouldn’t ask again, would he? Or is he trying to make amends with the tension between you? Whatever it is, it’s driving you crazy.

Your eyes darted to him, surprised. He wasn’t looking at you directly, his focus fixed on zipping up his coat, but his posture was tense, like he was bracing for your reaction. “Oh,” you started, unsure. “You don’t have to. It’s really not far.” Deja vu. You lived this moment before and you can pin-point exactly when, and how.

“I don’t mind,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. And your heart reacted to his insistences. He adjusted his puffy jacket, still avoiding your gaze. Yet your eyes lingered, drawn to the way his hands moved down his torso, smoothing out invisible wrinkles.

“Cool.” Was all you managed to let out, slowly turning back to Mandy who wasn’t paying attention to the crazy situation (according to you) that was happening. She fixed up Martin’s jacket as they talked about something that you definitely weren’t paying attention to.

Her eyes turned to you as though she felt you staring. Smiling. “Hamzah will take you home?” She asked, wondering what you both finally decided on. Once again, feeling too annoyed with yourself for agreeing without a second thought, you just nodded. A half smile on your face.

The walk to his car felt heavier than it should have. You both stayed silent, the space between you filled with unspoken words. When he unlocked the doors, he hesitated for a moment before stepping forward to open the passenger side for you.

You stopped short, caught off guard by the gesture. He hasn’t spoken to you the entire night, where is all this coming from? His hand lingered on the edge of the door, his knuckles brushing the cold metal as he glanced at you. For the first time all evening, his eyes met yours.

It was brief, a fleeting connection, but it was enough to send a ripple through your chest. His expression was hard to read—his gaze uncertain, like he was searching for something in yours. You thought you saw a flicker of hesitation, or maybe it was determination, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“Thanks,” you murmured, breaking the quiet, your breath curling in the chilly air between you.

He nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Yeah.” His voice was low, almost inaudible, as he stepped back slightly to give you room. His hand shifted from the top of the car door to the edge of the roof, hovering there protectively, as if anticipating the need to shield your head when you bent to get in.

You slid into the seat, the warmth of the car immediately wrapping around you, but the moment lingered—his presence, his silence, and the unspoken tension that seemed to hang between you like a thread stretched too tight.

Hamzah shut the door carefully and walked around to the driver’s side, climbing in without a word. He started the engine, the hum breaking the silence, and adjusted his seatbelt with deliberate focus.

“Which way?” he asked, his tone neutral, but his hands gripping the wheel tightly.

You gave him directions, and he nodded, pulling out onto the road. His eyes stayed fixed on the street ahead, his jaw tight.

It was familiar. The same hesitation, the same careful distance he seemed to put between you. It was like the beginning of the first car ride. And yet, beneath it, there was something else—something that felt like it was just waiting for permission to surface.

You stole a glance at him, your stomach flipping at the furrow of his brow and the slight downturn of his lips. “You okay?” you asked quietly. A part of you hoping he’ll tell you why he’s been acting so differently around you.

He didn’t answer immediately, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. Finally, he let out a breath. “Yeah. Just…tired. Long day.” And that part of you was crushed in that moment. ‘Yeah, right. Long day my ass.’ You thought to yourself, mentally rolling your eyes at how vague he was being. But, you would never want to pressure someone, you let it go. Resting your back against his passenger seat—averting your gaze to the window beside you.

—

“Dear FishingFortniteJournalist,

I think he hates me. He drove me home that night, but he was so quiet and was avoiding me the whole night as well. Is he trying to say he’s not into me? I don’t get it, he called me pretty. Do people just say that to other people?

I’m reading my paragraph back; what am I saying? I sound ridiculous. People can compliment people. Maybe I read too much into it. Way too much. God, this is driving me crazy. ALSO! Christmas eve is coming up next month and Mandy will probably host a party the night of and invite me. I can’t say no! So, I’ll have to sit there and see him again.

That sounds negative. I don’t hate him. Obviously it’s the opposite. He’s cute. Like really cute. Super nice. Well-spoken. Funny. I like him. And I knew I did since I first met him that’s why I fucking flirted with him when I got the chance.

This is so stupid. Sorry, I usually don’t make boys my main topic for the month—deal with me this time, yeah? Tell me what you think when you can get back to me. Hopefully I wouldn’t have blown everything apart.

With love and kisses,

GamingJournalingReader”

—

Hamzah was trying his best not to open them. He really was. But the itching urge to see your words was unbearable. His fingers hesitated before he unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning each line, the handwriting blurring into something painfully familiar.

It was you. This wasn’t a “maybe” or a “perhaps.” This was you.

His heart sank. The way you described how you felt—it hit harder than he’d expected. He’d already been replaying that night in his head, berating himself for the silence that filled the car ride. The memory of you stepping out of his car with a quiet “Thanks, goodnight” played over and over like a broken record. Now, knowing how you felt about it made him feel even worse.

“I like him.”

The words burned in his mind, clearer than anything else on the page.

Hamzah had always wanted the ability to read people’s minds, to know exactly how they felt about him. But now that he had something close to that, it was too much. Not because he didn’t like you back—God, no. The opposite. He liked you too much. Too much that he hates how much his actions are affecting you.

His thumb brushed over the paper absentmindedly, a weak attempt at comforting himself. This killed every chance he might’ve had. This stupid pen-pal experiment he’d gotten involved in with you. He groaned, raking a hand through his hair.

“Fuck.”

He stood abruptly, needing air, and grabbed his lighter from the shelf beside the balcony door. Stepping outside, the cold air bit at his skin, turning his cheeks pink almost instantly. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a practiced flick of his thumb before leaning against the railing.

The problem was spiraling out of control. He needed to do something. Ignoring you clearly wasn’t working. He briefly considered telling Martin he felt “uncomfortable” around you—but that wouldn’t hold up. Not when he’d deliberately offered to drive you home. Twice.

“What am I even doing?” he muttered under his breath, blowing out a stream of smoke.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. His chat with Chase was still open, their last messages flashing back at him.

Chase: What are you doing?

You: mail

He stared at the conversation for a moment before typing a response. Wondering what Chase wanted from him.

You: u ok?

The message sent with a soft chime, and Chase’s reply came almost instantly.

Chase: Yes…?

Chase: Are you okay?

You: no

Chase: ???

Chase: What the fuck happened?

You: idk

Hamzah rubbed his temple. Halfway through him trying to vent, he remembered that no one was supposed to know about this. About you. About how badly he’d messed up. This is annoying.

Chase: Are you nervous about the party?

The party. Of course. Chase was coming, too—an idea sparked. If he could just stick by Chase the whole time, he could avoid you without making it obvious.

You: yea

You: could you stay with me the whole time?

He waited, his leg bouncing as Chase’s typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

Chase: Okay

Chase: Don’t worry about it too much. It’s in two weeks.

Relief washed over him. A small grin tugged at his lips as he typed a teasing response.

You: u wowwy about me :3?

The ridiculousness of it made him chuckle, cigarette dangling from his lips as he hit send. He stubbed it out in the ashtray and headed back inside, his anxiety eased—if only slightly—as Chase fired back with a string of sarcastic messages.

For now, this would have to be enough. Enough to rest him easy.

—

“Thought you were gonna bail.”

“Almost did,” Hamzah admitted.

Chase raised an eyebrow but said nothing, instead handing him a cookie. Hamzah took it without much thought, his gaze drifting back to the living room. He knew he’d see you eventually, but the waiting was eating at him.

The past two weeks had been strange. Almost unbearably so. Not because the days had been particularly busy or stressful, but because something was missing.

GamingJournalingReader has not sent him a single letter.

At first, he chalked it up to timing—maybe you were busy, or maybe the holidays had gotten to you. But as days turned into weeks, the silence began to weigh on him. It wasn’t like before when your messages arrived sporadically. This was different. And it felt bitter. As weird as it was to admit—even to himself—he missed you.

He missed you.

Not just the you in front of him at parties, or the you he’d driven home twice. He missed the way you rambled about your favorite games in real life, then your little quirks in writing, the warmth that radiated from even your most mundane thoughts. How he felt a safe, steady presence, even if the reality of who you were had started to overlap in confusing ways.

“Hey,” Chase said, snapping his fingers in front of Hamzah’s face. Hamzah blinked, realizing he’d been staring blankly at the ground. “Sorry. Just… thinking.” Chase gave him a skeptical look but let it slide. “Alright, try to relax. You’re gonna burn a hole in the floor.”

Hamzah huffed a laugh, finally biting into the cookie Chase had handed him. But even as he tried to focus on the party, the absence of you lingered like a dull ache.

He spotted you a long time ago. You seemed to have been here since the afternoon with Mandy. All you did was greet him quietly then went back to mumbling something to Mandy when he first got here a few minutes ago.

Currently. You were standing by the Christmas tree, holding a mug of hot chocolate, your sweater dress catching the soft glow of the fairy lights. For a moment, it was like the noise of the party faded away, leaving just the sight of you.

Hamzah’s chest tightened. This was the first time he took a good look at you since he got here—he understood why he couldn’t bring himself to in the first place; the way your eyes filled with stars when you’re talking to anyone, your tone sweeter than the marshmallow floating around your cup.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too caught up in a conversation with someone beside you. But when your eyes finally flicked over to his, there it was—that flicker of recognition.

And he knew. He wasn’t the only one feeling the weight of the past two weeks. A hint of something in your eyes he recognized; too fearful to name.

He looked away. Clearing his throat. Chase typing away on his phone; too caught up to notice his friend’s romantic demise. “Chase.” He called, and his friend only hummed in response.

“These cookies are good,” Hamzah muttered, more to fill the silence than anything else.

Chase, still glued to his phone, gave a distracted nod. “Mandy made them.”

Hamzah nodded absently, his gaze flickering back toward you. He didn’t mean to look again, but he couldn’t stop himself. This time, you weren’t talking. You were standing still, holding your mug and watching him. His breath caught in his chest. Before he could decide to smile or look away, you set your mug down on the nearest counter and started walking toward him.

Hamzah stiffened, his grip tightening on the half-eaten cookie in his hand. Chase finally glanced up, raising an eyebrow at the shift in his friend’s demeanor. Not noticing the fact that you were walking over to them.

“Hey, mind if I sneak Hamzah with me for a little?” Your voice was soft, your tone polite, but your eyes darted nervously between him and Chase.

Chase smiled knowingly, nodding. “All yours.”

Hamzah shot Chase a glare, one that clearly said ‘why would you leave me?’, but didn’t resist as you motioned for him to follow. The faint murmur of conversation and laughter from the party seemed to fade as you led the way toward the balcony door.

Hamzah fell into step behind you, his heart thudding in his chest. His mind raced, wondering what this was about, whether you were going to confront him about something or if this was just a casual chat. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his fingers fidgeting with the lining as he tried to steady his breathing.

You paused and turned to him, your expression softer now, almost nervous. “Can we… actually go outside?” you asked, your voice quieter this time. Your finger pointing at the balcony that was behind you.

Hamzah’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, the request throwing him off guard. “Yeah, okay,” he said, his voice almost automatic.

You offered him a small, uncertain smile before reaching for the door to the balcony. He followed closely, the chill of the winter air biting at his face as soon as you stepped outside. The quiet outside was stark in contrast to the muffled noise of the party behind you, and for a moment, it was just the crunch of snow beneath your boots and the soft puff of your breath visible in the cold.

Hamzah stayed a step behind, watching as you stopped near the railing of the porch. You rested your hands on it, looking out into the yard. The strings of lights hanging from the roof cast a soft, warm glow over you, and he couldn’t help but notice how still you were, like you were trying to gather your thoughts.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms against the chill. “I just—” You paused, searching for the right words.

Hamzah watched you, his own hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. He could see your breath in the cold, the faintest wisp of white against the dark sky.

“I just wanted to… talk,” you finally said, your eyes meeting his.

“Alright,” Hamzah said quickly, his throat dry.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It hung between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap at the wrong word. You exhaled deeply, your breath visible in the air. “I’ve been meaning to apologize. For the other night.”

Hamzah’s brow furrowed. “Apologize?”

“Yeah. I mean…” You glanced down at your boots, your voice faltering. “I feel like I made things awkward. I shouldn’t have flirted like that if I wasn’t sure you feel some type of way about it. And then—”

“Stop,” Hamzah cut in, his voice soft but firm.

Your eyes shot back up to his, wide with surprise.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, his words coming out in a rush. “If anything, I should be apologizing. I—I’ve been acting weird, and I know it.”

Hamzah flinched, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I-”

“I was ignoring you. But not because of anything you did.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “Then why?” Your tone growing a little louder.

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. He wanted to tell you everything—that he’d been overthinking, that he’d read your letters, that he felt like the biggest idiot for how he’d acted. But all he managed was:

“Because I didn’t know what to say. To you.”

Your expression softened, the tension in your shoulders easing just slightly. “You could’ve said anything, Hamzah. You didn’t have to avoid me.”

“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just…” he ran his hand through his hair, shutting his eyes in irritation. What does he even say?

‘Hey, by the way! The girl you’ve been talking to for the past few months has actually been me and I know how you feel about me in every nanoscopic detail.’ He rolled his eyes at this own thought.

Hamzah inhaled sharply, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as if the motion could somehow ground him. He glanced at you, his jaw tightening. You were standing there, waiting, watching him with an openness that only made his hesitation feel heavier.

“Fuck. I don’t know…” Hamzah muttered, his voice strained, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

“Hamzah,” you said softly, taking a hesitant step closer. “Are you okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you or anything—”

“I’m fishing Fortnite journalist.”

The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them, raw and unpolished. He immediately froze, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched your expression shift from concern to confusion.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He swallowed, turning his gaze to the other side. He can’t look at you. Not right now at least. This was embarrassing, for the both of you. The way you looked at him only confirmed his suspicions. It was you.

“I know. This looks really bad. But, I promise. I can explain.” He shoved his hands in his pockets again.

“Oh god.” You shut your eyes, pressing your lips into a thin line as you remembered what you wrote the past few letters. “I can’t believe Mandy was right.” You rub your temple, Hamzah turning to you when the mention of his other friends was brought into the conversation.

“What? Mandy knows?”

“Obviously not that you are who you are! God, I didn’t even know that.”

Hamzah’s shoulders stiffened, his eyes flickering back to you, unsure whether he felt relief or a deeper sense of dread. “Then what did she say?”

You crossed your arms, shifting your weight nervously. “She said I was being naïve. That I was putting too much trust in someone that was probably a man in his twenties being a creep.” Hamzah winced at your description. The words of his friend sharp against his chest.

“Why did you…” you started. Even you didn’t know where to start or go with this.

“Just. Listen, okay? I… I kept getting messages from weird porn bots, then I was just testing the settings out—then I met you and I didn’t think it’ll actually go anywhere.” He paused, looking back onto the view over the balcony. “By the time you sent me that letter I completely forgot that I changed my gender to female and kept writing to you.”

“But when I realized that you thought I was a girl. The letter where you mentioned Claire’s party. I freaked out, I stopped replying.” Hearing himself re-explain everything made him realize how stupid he must look right now.

“Then when you kept sending them—and fuck,” he paused. “I don’t even know why I kept opening them—everything I read…it kept becoming more and more familiar. I realized it was you pretty early on. That’s when I started ignoring you.” He sighed, “I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

You stared at him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The tension between you was palpable, each word sinking deeper into the weight of the moment. You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “So what, you just thought you’d keep it to yourself forever? Pretend none of it happened?”

Hamzah flinched, his jaw tightening. “No. I was trying to figure out how to fix it. But every time I tried, I just… made things worse. Like when I ignored you at dinner. That wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk to you—it was because I didn’t know how to.”

Your brows knit together, your expression softening slightly despite your frustration. “This is…”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said firmly, finally turning to meet your gaze. “That was all me. And I’m sorry. For everything.”

You looked at him for a long moment, searching his face as if trying to decide whether to believe him. Finally, you exhaled, your arms dropping to your sides. “This is… a lot, Hamzah. I don’t even know how to feel right now.”

“I get it. You don’t have to say anything,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. He looked down for a second, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

The sincerity in his words hit you harder than you expected. Your heart was still racing, the weight of everything he said mixing with the uncertainty of what you were feeling. You stood there, unsure of whether to close the distance between you or step back. The space between you seemed to stretch, even though you were both standing so close.

He nodded, understanding, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes as he reached out, his hand almost trembling as it brushed against yours. “I didn’t mean to throw all this at you. I’ve just… I've been thinking about it nonstop. And I’m scared I’ve ruined everything.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the softness in his touch making your chest tighten. For a second, you wanted to pull away, to stay distant because it felt safer. But something in you wanted to believe him, to let the vulnerability between you both have a chance.

“You haven’t ruined anything,” you murmured, your voice quiet but steady. “It’s just… it’s confusing, and I need time.”

“All the time you need,” Hamzah said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to push you.”

The silence between you only got heavier, you thought that once you both addressed everything it’ll all end. Though you stood still, his fingers faintly brushed over yours, the way he looked down at you—there was something there.

“You read my last letter.” It was more of a fact stated than a question.

Hamzah cleared his throat, remembering what you said in that letter. It made him spiral, but he tried to maintain his composure in front of you. “I… did.” He muttered.

You looked up at him. “None of that changes.”

Hamzah swallowed, his throat dry, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of your words had settled on his chest. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he stepped just a fraction closer, the subtle movement sending a wave of warmth through you. He was waiting for you to guide this moment, but there was also a tenderness in his gaze that made your chest tighten.

You took a deep breath, your fingers still tingling from where they’d brushed against his. The space between you was shrinking, but there was still a part of you that hesitated—partly because you weren’t sure where this would lead and partly because of the vulnerability in his voice. He was laying himself bare, in a way, and you could feel it. You could tell he was embarrassed by this whole ordeal just as much as you.

His hand moved, almost instinctively, reaching for yours. His fingers brushed over your knuckles, the touch so light, yet enough to make your heart skip a beat. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you let him, your breath catching in your chest as his hand finally closed around yours.

“I really like you,” he let out, his words simple but full of meaning, like he’d been holding onto them for longer than he could admit. He leaned in, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “I just… didn’t know how to say it before. And I’m sorry for all the confusion I caused. But I mean it. I like you. A lot.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in them wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Without thinking, you leaned in slightly, your lips brushing against his. It was gentle, almost questioning, like you were both waiting for confirmation that this was okay—that you were both ready to let go of the doubts and fears that had kept you apart.

“I like you too,” you whispered, your thumb gently caressing his hand. “Obviously.”

Hamzah’s eyes met yours, and the warmth in them was undeniable, a mix of relief and something deeper, something more. Without another word, he leaned in, this time with more certainty, pulling you closer as your lips met once more, the kiss deepening, as if you were both trying to make up for lost time.

When you pulled away, it was quiet. Both your lips meeting the cold air again—your quivering at the temperature change. Your eyelashes flutter as you look up at him; “You’re an idiot.”

Hamzah snorted at your comment, resting his forehead on your shoulder to continue his giggles. “Stop.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension that had been building between you two finally dissipating. The warmth of his laughter, the feel of him so close to you, made everything that had come before seem insignificant.

“Seriously,” you said, your voice teasing but soft, “you really are an idiot.”

He pulled back slightly, still chuckling, and looked at you with that same familiar warmth in his eyes. “I know,” he said, his tone light but there was a trace of something deeper, something real. “But I think I’m okay with being an idiot if it means this.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “This?”

Hamzah nodded, the laughter fading as his expression grew more sincere. “Yeah. This. Us. Whatever this is. It’s worth being an idiot for.”

“Shut up.”

“Dork.”

(A/N): is the ending ass… be honest guys. ;( I felt like it seemed rushed ;-; anyway, hope you enjoy it :3 (I literally used AI to proofread—lazy city)

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah x reader #slushy virus #hamzah the fantastic #x reader #hamzah fluff #hamzah imagines

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baelabong · 4 months ago

Text

ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ (ᴘᴀᴜʙᴀʏᴀ)

ᴋᴀʀɪɴᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ

plot: you need to let go

genre: angst

notes!warnings: rina LOWKEY cheating, it was supposed to be sana but like i changed my mind half way oops

The first time Y/N noticed something had changed, it was a small thing. So small that she brushed it off, telling herself that she was overthinking. It was during one of their usual late-night hangouts, the kind where they'd lie in bed together, talking about everything and nothing. The air was warm, the kind of warmth that made you want to stay up just a little longer, to savor the night before it slipped away.

Jimin had her head on Y/N’s lap, scrolling through her phone as Y/N absentmindedly played with her hair. It was a scene that had played out countless times before, a simple, comforting routine. But that night, something was different. The usual soft laughter that would spill from Jimin's lips was missing. Her responses were shorter, distracted. Y/N had asked her about her day, about a story she knew Jimin would usually jump at the chance to share, but Jimin had only nodded, her eyes glued to her screen.

Y/N bit her lip, trying to push down the pang of hurt. Maybe Jimin was just tired, or maybe she was engrossed in something important. But when she glanced at the screen, she saw that Jimin wasn’t reading an article or responding to a work message. She was scrolling through someone’s social media profile. A girl Y/N didn’t recognize.

Y/N had felt a twist in her gut, but she quickly looked away, not wanting to seem paranoid. She reminded herself that Jimin had friends, and there was no reason to feel jealous. But the image of that unfamiliar profile lingered in her mind long after they had gone to bed, with Jimin’s back turned to her.

---

Weeks passed, and the feeling only grew stronger. Jimin began coming home later than usual, with vague excuses about work or meeting up with friends Y/N had never heard of before. The spontaneous dates they used to go on, the weekend getaways they loved to plan on a whim, became less frequent. Jimin started canceling plans at the last minute, often with a text message instead of a call.

Y/N tried to be understanding. She knew life got busy, that sometimes they couldn’t spend every moment together like they used to. But the distance between them was no longer just physical. It was emotional, too.

One night, they had planned a dinner together at their favorite restaurant. Y/N had been looking forward to it all week, excited to spend some quality time with Jimin, to try and recapture some of the closeness that had been slipping away. But as she waited at the restaurant, her heart sank with every passing minute. Jimin was late—again.

Y/N stared at her phone, the unease growing with each unanswered call and text. When Jimin finally walked through the door, she looked apologetic, but also distracted. “Sorry, I got caught up with something,” she said quickly, barely meeting Y/N’s eyes.

“What was it?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her tone light. She was used to Jimin’s busy schedule, but tonight felt different. She needed an explanation, something to ease the growing knot of anxiety in her chest.

Jimin hesitated, her eyes darting away. “Just… work stuff. It took longer than expected.”

Y/N nodded slowly, but she wasn’t convinced. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here now.”

But even as they ate, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that Jimin’s mind was elsewhere. She tried to bring up funny stories from her day, reminisced about their past trips, anything to pull Jimin back to her, but the conversations felt forced. Jimin smiled and laughed at the right moments, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It felt like she was going through the motions, trying to play the part of the attentive girlfriend, but something was missing.

That night, as they lay in bed, Y/N tried to wrap her arms around Jimin, to hold her close like she always did. But Jimin turned away, mumbling something about being tired. Y/N stared at the back of her head, the familiar scent of Jimin’s shampoo filling the air, but it brought no comfort. All Y/N could feel was the cold space growing between them.

---

The breaking point came on a rainy afternoon. They were supposed to spend the day together, something they hadn’t done in what felt like ages. Y/N had planned everything, from breakfast in bed to watching their favorite movie, hoping to reignite the spark that had been dimming for so long. But when Jimin walked in, soaked from the rain, her face was pale, her eyes distant.

Y/N hurried over, concern etching her features. “Jimin, what happened? Are you okay?”

Jimin didn’t answer right away. She just stood there, dripping water onto the floor, looking like she had been somewhere else entirely. Finally, she looked up at Y/N, her eyes filled with an emotion Y/N couldn’t quite place. “We need to talk,” she said quietly.

Y/N’s heart sank. She had heard those words before, in other relationships, and they never led anywhere good. “About what?”

Jimin hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “About us.”

Y/N felt a chill run down her spine. She had known this was coming, had felt it in every missed connection, every unspoken word between them. But hearing it out loud was different. It made it real. “What about us?”

Jimin looked down at the floor, unable to meet Y/N’s eyes. “Things… things haven’t been the same, Y/N. I’ve been trying to figure it out, to make sense of it, but I can’t keep pretending that everything is fine.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. “What are you saying, Jimin?”

“I don’t know when it started, but… I don’t feel the same way anymore.” Jimin’s voice cracked, her hands trembling at her sides. “I still care about you, but the love… it’s not the same.”

Y/N’s world felt like it was crumbling around her. She had feared this moment, dreaded it, but nothing could have prepared her for the actual pain of hearing it. “When did you realize?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Jimin admitted, finally looking up. “It was gradual, I guess. I tried to ignore it, to push it away, but… I’m not in love with you the way I used to be.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to break down. “Is there someone else?”

Jimin hesitated for a moment too long, and Y/N’s heart shattered. “There is, isn’t there?”

“It’s not like that,” Jimin said quickly. “I never meant for it to happen. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re here with me, but your heart… it’s somewhere else. With her.”

Jimin didn’t deny it. She couldn’t. The guilt in her eyes was all the confirmation Y/N needed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Y/N asked, her voice breaking. “Why did you let me believe that we still had a chance?”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” Jimin confessed, tears finally spilling over. “I kept hoping that I could find a way back to the way things were, that I could love you the way you deserve. But I can’t.”

Y/N closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely now. “When did your love for me start to fade away, Jimin? I gave you everything I had, all I wanted was to see you smile.”

Jimin’s heart broke at the sound of Y/N’s anguish. She reached out, wanting to hold her, to comfort her, but Y/N pulled away, shaking her head.

“Don’t,” Y/N said, her voice trembling. “Don’t touch me if it’s not real.”

Jimin’s hands dropped to her sides, powerless to make things right. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Y/N looked at her, a mix of heartbreak and resignation in her eyes. “If she’s the key to your happiness, I won’t stand in your way. I’m letting you go, Jimin. But I have one request.”

Jimin’s breath caught in her throat. “Anything.”

“Make sure she loves you the way I have,” Y/N said, her voice cracking with the weight of her words.

Jimin’s tears fell harder now, the reality of what she was losing hitting her all at once. She had known this day would come, but nothing could have prepared her for the pain of actually losing Y/N. “Y/N, I…”

“It’s too late,” Y/N interrupted, shaking her head. “I’ve been holding on, hoping that we could find our way back to each other, but I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay. It’s me who’s wrapped in your arms, but it’s her on your mind.”

Jimin didn’t have the words to make it better. The truth was too heavy, too painful to deny.

“Even if she’s the key to your happiness,” Y/N continued, wiping her tears, “my love for you will never change. But I’m setting you free. Just promise me that she’ll love you the way I have.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Jimin whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

Y/N gave her a sad smile. “You already have.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of their situation pressing down on them. Y/N could see the regret in Jimin’s eyes, but she knew it wasn’t enough. Regret wouldn’t bring back what they had lost.

“I’m hoping it’s still us,” Y/N said, her voice trembling. “I wish this would never end. But I know it’s her who’s your last.”

Jimin shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I never wanted this.”

“I know,” Y/N replied softly. “Neither did I.”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I still can’t believe that you’ve chosen her,” she confessed, her heart breaking with every word. “I can see it in your eyes. And it’s hard to fight for what’s not meant to be.”

Jimin reached out, gently cupping Y/N’s face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You deserve so much more.”

Y/N leaned into her touch, closing her eyes as she savored the moment, knowing it would be their last. “I’m letting you go, Love,” she whispered. “I’m letting you go… but I’ll still wait for you.”

Jimin’s heart shattered at the sound of Y/N’s words. She pulled her into a tight embrace, holding on as if her life depended on it. But she knew it was over. She had made her choice, and there was no going back.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms for the final time, Y/N whispered, “Goodbye, Jimin.”

With that, she stepped back, turning away before she could change her mind. She walked out of the room, leaving Jimin standing there, tears streaming down her face as the door closed behind her.

Jimin stared at the door, her heart aching with the loss of the person she had loved more than anything. But as much as she wanted to chase after her, to beg her to stay, she knew it wouldn’t be fair. Y/N deserved someone who would love her the way she had loved, and that person wasn’t her.

Jimin wiped her tears, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips as she whispered to the empty room, “I’ll never forget you, Y/N. I promise.”

But in her heart, she knew Y/N was already gone.

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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 8 months ago

Text

Susceptible - Jack Delroy/Reader

Warnings: Fully clothed grinding, very slight dirty talk, very light exhibitionism in a sense, no use of Y/N, female-hinted reader because of skirt/makeup mentions but other than that there's no real gender mention.

Wordcount: 4950

Summary: You spent a small fortune getting a ticket to Carmichael Haig's show on the promise of his new act showing his audience something the world has never seen before, as well as the possible attendance of one Jack Delroy, but will two hours of bullshit be worth the risk?

Notes: There is SO MUCH BUILDUP I'm so sorry I'm so weak for worldbuilding and plot I swear the other one I have planned will be shorter OTL I have never written a reader before but I am a huge fan of them, especially the DDverse ones I've been binging oop, so I hope this is a good first attempt! It's been a few years since I've written anything like this and probably a good decade or so since I last posted anything, so here's hoping I post more in the upcoming future~ This is also completely unbetaed so if you see any mistakes please let me know <3 The Manhattan Center is also real but didn't fit my needs entirely so I mashed it together with the theatre I went to as a kid lol

~~~~~~~~~~

Carmichael Haig was back in town and you had no idea why you were here.

He had left for what felt like both forever and not nearly long enough for a few months to do his tour, seeing his smug face everywhere you looked between both digital and paper news and making your distaste grow a little more each time. You had been fond of his trickery for a time, but his move from magic man to skeptic had sucked all the fun out of the act, his determination to not only find the real but humiliate the fakes way past annoying to straight up sickening to you by this point. Tonight’s show proved to be another big presentation of the latter you’d decided when it’d been announced officially, promoted by your favourite talk show host - and current celebrity crush - Jack Delroy; his smile was wide for the cameras but it didn’t reach his eyes, you could always tell between them by now and he did not seem to be as pleased as the two talked about it that night.

‘I’m going to show the world something they’ve never seen before,’ Carmichael had said, his usual smug look in place as he hammed it up for the cameras like he could really pull that off, Jack running with it like the patron saint of patience he had to be.

‘Big talk, you sure I can’t convince you to give our wonderful audience a taste tonight?’ he asked, the crowd cheering at the mere thought of getting to experience his new act an entire month early, but if there was even an iota of temptation within him to share he hid it perfectly. He waved the offer away to everyone’s disappointment, Jack pouting on everyone’s behalf and putting those big eyes on display as his own plea; the ratings, you imagined, would be wonderful for a segment like this when his show was already starting to slip down the line, but even that was no use.

‘You’ll all get a chance to see it on the 13th,’ he promised them as he turned to face the audience, the place and date scrolling across the bottom of the screen yet again, they’d been flashing it every single time it was mentioned to the point where you were sure you’d see it in your sleep tonight, rolling across the bottom half of your dream. ‘Or, those of you who’ve been able to get your tickets will, we’re selling out fast,’ he smirked with a tip of his glass, yet another thing that’d been brought up and hammered home; you’d gone to the Manhattan Center to check a couple days ago, just out of curiosity, the ticket price absolutely ridiculous to the point that you were convinced they’d never sell out, but now you guessed your distaste of him wasn’t as widespread as you’d secretly hoped.

Jack slapped his leg in mock disappointment, Carmichael looking back to him at the sound. ‘Guess you’ll have to tell me all about it the next time you’re back in town, I had asked Gus to pick one up for me but it seems he missed that call,’ he joked, Gus’ surprise at the blame of his absence being placed on him getting a big laugh as his face fell and he tried to explain himself.

Carmichael placed an understanding hand on Jack’s shoulder and leaned in closer, the other man leaning in in return as if to receive some kind of secret. ‘Well then, it’s a good thing my date canceled on me,’ he retorted, and when he pulled his hand back he revealed a ticket, Jack’s eyes going wide as he accepted the gift with a big smile, pointing to it before shaking Carmichael’s hand with a thanks.

Ah, so that was why you were here again.

You knew you’d never be able to get a seat on Night Owls because the thought of Jack seeing you in the crowd made you blush all the way to your shoulders, even on your bravest of nights you hadn’t been able to even call and see if there were any tickets left, but to maybe share an audience with him? To sit in the same room as him where you could steal glances if you were able to find him, with no risk whatsoever of him catching the way your eyes lit up when you looked at that handsome face, that dangerously attractive body? That was doable.

It had cost an arm and a leg to convince that scalper to hand over one of the tickets he was parading around outside the Center, but it was worth it as you stepped inside, your heart racing because, unless he wanted to risk the aftermath of Carmichael calling him out for not going, he was here; somewhere in this building was the man you’d been dreaming about since his debut a few years ago, the one you watched nearly every night without fail just for that hour where he looked at you, talked to you, noticed you even if it was through a camera, and that was all you’d needed until tonight.

You’d gotten a pretty shitty seat despite the price but you didn’t mind, it actually worked out for you considering you weren’t actually there to see the show but to look for someone in the seats in front of you, and you hoped that you’d be able to spot him from where you were in the far back corner. As long as he wasn’t, say, the exact opposite of you then you probably stood a chance of at least a glance, since his ticket came from Carmichael himself you guessed that it was probably close to the front if not front row center just to mess with him and prove that he’d come, and you felt all the hair rise on your arms and neck when Carmichael walked on stage early to very loudly greet someone who’d just walked in.

There he was, leaving his seat to meet the other man in the middle, and he was so much further than you expected but it was still him, big smile in place, hair perfectly combed, his crisp suit being wrinkled by Carmichael’s hands as he gave him a showy hug, and he was beautiful. You froze in the middle of the row, unable to finish the walk as your eyes stayed on him, the people trying to get by you not as starstruck as they attempted to squeeze past when you ignored their presence.

‘Sorry,’ you murmured as you sat as fast as you could, eyes still trained on him as he waved to the crowd to prove that yes, he did honour the gift and was there to see this big new act he’d been promised. You let out an embarrassingly needy whine when he sat back down and you became unable to see him again, the mass of bodies behind him obscuring all but a sliver of the back of his head from this angle, and you’d be damned if you had to spend the next 2 hours stuck like this at a Carmichael Haig show of all things. The person at the end of the row finally arrived and you made your move, hurrying down and taking one last glance before getting ready to make this whole thing a little more bearable. ‘Excuse me,’ you nearly stuttered as the person, a man older than yourself who definitely gave off the air of being a Carmichael fan, looked up at you, ‘would you want to trade seats with me? I was really looking forward to the show but I was too late to grab an aisle seat.’

It’s a blatant lie but the quick glance from before proved that you could see him better from there, and the chance of getting to look at him for the next two hours was worth the look the man gave you at the request.

‘Which one are you?’ he asked, looking down to the few empty spaces still waiting for their owners, and you pulled out your ticket to double check, seeing that it was R51; wow, you didn’t realize how far away R was from A until you saw it firsthand. He looked back down to your seat and considered it, looking you over midthought when he thought you weren’t looking, and he almost got away with it if not for the fact that you felt his eyes on you. ‘$100,’ he decided, the offer knocking the wind right out of you.

‘What? The seat was already $350,’ you choke, giving away the fact that you were really, really late to the party.

‘Take it or leave it, I had the sense to order on time,’ is all he says to that, and you looked back at your possible view before sighing heavily and reaching for your wallet; goddamnit, Jack, if only he knew how worth it he was. You hand over the money and step aside, the man pocketing his fee and leaving the seat for you as promised, and the view is just barely better but there he is again, perfectly in view due to what can only be a miracle, the hole in your wallet feeling a little less big as you watched him turn his head to talk to someone, giving you a perfect side view.

He really was handsome, captivating even from this distance, and you swoon a little as the audience finished filling out, the lights dimming and obscuring your view a little more save the grace of the stage lights that illuminate him from the front as Carmichael walked back out on stage and started the show. You’d never been one for spacing out but you couldn’t take your eyes off him, the $450 price tag of this shitty aisle seat all for him and not feeling so bad even as Carmichael charms everyone around you. He didn’t look to the side that often, you guessed he didn’t actually know his neighbour since the seat was a gift, but the times that he did, where he laughed or sighed at the theatrics or even put his face in his hand because he wasn’t having too much fun, were all cataloged away in your head forever, the perfect souvenirs to last you a lifetime of home viewing after this.

At about an hour in according to your old watch, Jack looked about ready to get up and find any reason to leave, which you couldn’t blame him for, the acts themselves were pretty damn good you realized in the times you actually paid attention, but it was getting so tiring to see Carmichael explain away all of their tricks, to see the joy leave their faces at being called a fraud or having all their mysteries revealed, and it was clear Jack felt the same down in row A. After a particularly rough walk-off from a woman who was trying very desperately to convince Carmichael that she could really read his mind and ending up with the humiliating reality that everything he answered to was false to get her to out herself, you noticed that when you looked back to his seat that Jack isn’t there, and you were in the middle of wondering where he went when the person coming up the aisle came into view so suddenly that it took your breath away.

It was Jack, his brow twitching slightly to keep a neutral face, his footsteps heavy as he tried not to stomp and draw attention to the fact that that last one really pissed him off, his hands already reaching into his suit pocket for something. You tried not to stare the closer he got but it was hard, years of being able to look all you want training your brain to look look look as he approached, and you forced yourself to stare straight ahead at the stage as he reached you. Your hands were clenched tight in your lap as he went to pass row R, and you were in the middle of thinking you were going to make it when he fumbled the small box in his pocket and dropped it with a low curse, the cigarettes he apparently smoked bouncing to the side and coming to a stop between your recently shined shoes.

Your head snapped down so fast you felt it in your neck as he came to a stop beside you, the two of you locating the box at the same time, and you stiffened as he reached for it before realizing how rude that would be despite his own sour mood. ‘I’m sorry, could I bother you for a second,’ he asked, his smile back in place despite being a bit tense, and you stuttered out a confirmation as you leaned down to pick them up.

‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself, Jack’s hand frozen in midair as he reached for the box, his smile relaxing a little as he looked from your hand to your face.

‘Did I find myself a Night Owl in this sea of skeptics?’ he wondered aloud, your cheeks brightening in a way that really made you pray it was dark enough not to notice.

‘I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,’ you lie, and he crouched down so he could hear your whispers as the crowd reacted to the next act.

‘I take it you’re also not very impressed,’ he figured, hitting the nail on the head based on your expression alone. He chuckled at your silent confirmation and looked back down to the cigarettes, his fingertips just barely touching yours as you both held it, you didn’t even know when he’d grabbed it and you let go before it got awkward, but he didn’t seem to notice. ‘Well, if you don’t tell my producer that I’m smoking again, then I won’t tell Haig that you didn’t like his show, deal?’

You sucked in a breath as he moved the box to his left hand, offering up his right for a handshake this time to seal the deal, your heart pounding as you shook on it, his smile more genuine than you’d seen all night, you could always tell. He stood back up as the act finished and Carmichael went back to his disproving, his mood dropping again as his need to escape rearose. You both offered a look of disdain at the stage before he stood back up to move again, something stopping him midstep before he turned on his heel and leaned back down to you, a shiver running down your spine at how close he was so he could be heard.

‘Have you ever been to one of my shows?’ he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice, his warm breath accidentally hitting your neck and rendering you unable to do anything but glance at him and shake your head no. ‘You’d have a much better time, I’ve got some great stuff coming up,’ he pitched, either completely unaware of your predicament or just used to people acting like this around him, either way he didn’t react when your eyes couldn’t help but flicker down to watch him lick his lips so fast you almost missed it. ‘The next one’s already booked up but if you go down to the studio and give them this card, you should be able to get a spot for a night you’re free, I'd like to see you there.’

He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a business card, flipping it around to the blank side on the back before resting it on the arm of the chair. A pen was found next, and he scribbled a quick note to the ticket seller on it on your behalf, signing it and handing it over with that big showman smile of his. You took it and placed it in your own wallet, the previous hole instantly filled with its presence, his mood clearly raised by the interaction as he wished you a quick goodbye and resumed his journey outside, oblivious to the fact that you were about to disrupt the entire theater if you didn’t find a place to scream and fast.

You gave him a few minutes to reach the doors before jumping to your feet and making for the bathroom, your heels clickclacking on the tile the entire way until you found the correct door. The place was empty, which was great because once you caught sight of yourself you knew that it was bad enough he saw you this way, no one else should get the pleasure; your face was redder than you’d ever seen it, your pupils blown from the exchange and you could’ve sworn you could actually see yourself shaking you were buzzing so hard, your grin so wide anyone else would’ve assumed that Santa had just given you the toy you’d always wanted for Christmas early.

You tried to calm yourself as you ripped off some paper towels and dampened them, patting them against your cheeks and neck to bring your body temperature back down to a normal person’s, carefully avoiding your makeup that you were thankful you spent the time putting on just on the ultra rare off chance you’d run into him. When you were ready to go back - and after a quick internal debate on whether you should try and meet him outside for another, less hushed conversation already - you made sure to calm your breathing before heading back out there, taking a quick moment to look for him before making the trek back to your seat.

When you got back you noticed that no new act was on, Carmichael already talking to the audience and projecting himself up on the screens for all to see, you rolling your eyes as you collapsed into the rich red velvet and preparing for more of his bullshit until Jack returned, if he felt like it that was. Everyone around you was concentrating on his words, staring right ahead as the theater fell silent save for his voice and the sound of a ticking clock; ah, he was trying to hypnotize everyone, that must’ve been his big final act that he’d promised his audience. You weren’t impressed, you’d tried to be hypnotized before at a party in your youth, it hadn’t worked then so it wasn’t going to work now you knew, so you sat back and prepared to at least enjoy whatever he was going to make the audience do.

Your thoughts went back to Jack as Carmichael’s voice slowly got drowned out, the ticking a bit louder in your ears despite the distance, but you didn’t mind because it was nonsense anyway, ‘Now who’s the skeptic,’ you think to yourself as you sink deeper into your chair. You vaguely heard the words, ‘Your greatest desire,’ in your ear before you felt a hand on your shoulder, your eyes leaving the stage to travel up until you saw Jack standing just behind you in the aisle, his smile from before now more like a smirk as he motioned towards the doors like he wanted you to follow him.

You looked back at the stage as Carmichael invited someone from the audience up to stand with him, some poor hypnotized fool who was bound to be humiliated along with everyone else who stood with him tonight, and you decided that you’d rather not see that again before standing and following Jack. There was a small hallway between the theater and the doors on that side of the back wall, the two of you out of view from everyone else but Carmichael’s voice still reaching, and you were about to wonder if he was leading you outside to just leave or talk when he turned and pushed you against the wall with a muffled thud. Your back met cold paint as your chest met with his, your eyes locking as he cornered you where no one could see, a confidence he saved for the cameras now focused solely on you as he looked you over the same way you’d done to him a thousand times over.

‘I couldn’t wait for you to come to my show,’ he whispered, his voice impossibly low as he held you in place, a knee parting yours and making you gasp, ‘you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’

‘You’re just telling me what I wanna hear,’ you managed to get out, his eyes closing as he leaned in to grin against your cheek.

‘Is it working?’

You didn’t dare answer but you might as well have because your silence was enough to spur him into action, your head falling back against the wall as he started to kiss your neck, your hands grasping at anything because this was crazy. The man you’d wanted for years was kissing you not even 30ft away from a room full of people, anyone could come around the corner at any second and catch you, and you bit your lip at the thrill of it all. You’d had dreams like this before, ones that left you panting into your pillow when you awoke, but the real thing was so much better as he sucked a mark into your soft skin, your hand leaving his arm to cover your mouth lest you alert anyone within hearing distance to your current predicament.

You let him do as he pleased, let him ran his hands over your sides and down to the edge of where your lifted skirt was resting against his thigh, your legs shaking as your body tried not to grind against him; it was only due to him holding you that kept you standing as a matter of fact and he seemed fully aware of it as his nails scratched softly against your bare leg. He seemed to love all your reactions to what he did, he was in the entertainment business after all, every noise of approval that slipped through your fingers must’ve been like music to his ears but you had to hold back no matter how much you wanted to indulge him. Being denied what he wanted only made him work harder for it, the assault on your neck moving to your shoulder and collarbone instead of your covered lips, your mouth watering for just a taste as he started to move against you, one hand pulling your waist away from the wall by your lower back as the other moved up and under your skirt.

The first grind of his body against yours was decadent, you swore you could feel it in your soul the way he wanted you just as much as you’d wanted him, like he’d been watching you back through the screen for years and also craved this very moment, and now that he was getting it he wasn’t going to stop, you didn’t want him to stop. You’d never seen him act anything like this before in all his years on TV, a greedy flash of excitement running through you at getting to see such a new side of him quickly overcome by pleasure as he cupped your ass and pulled you even closer. You knew you couldn’t get undressed here, if you’d made it to the bathroom then maybe he’d be doing more but he hadn’t lasted even that long, but even with that desire being restrained you still wanted him here and now. Never in your life had you been this desperate for release but he was bringing out a demon inside of you that desired and needed and wanted so much that you were willing to throw your modesty out the fucking window for just a second of his hot skin pressed against your own, but this would have to do while the show still went on.

‘Jack…’ you moaned as your hand, moist from your panting, gripped his arm once again, Carmichael’s voice getting louder in the distance as you grew closer to your release.

‘Come home with me,’ he begged into your ear, his movements getting rougher as he also grew close, you knew you’d both have to leave before everyone saw you but it was worth it, god it was so worth it. ‘I want to have you all to myself, I need to taste you-’

You bit your lip and led his face away from your neck so you could look into his eyes, his mouth parted as he tried to control his own panting, he was coming apart at the seams for you right here in the hallway, the ticking in your ears either your heartbeat or a clock far away. You moaned his name again as you felt the heat build in your stomach, your back arching and pushing your body into him even more as the door to your right opened.

‘Dreamer, here, awake!’

All at once your knees gave out and you collapsed to the floor before that final wave could push you over the edge, your head heavy and your vision swimming as the body against yours vanished into nothing. ‘Are you okay? What happened?’ Jack’s voice from above asked as his worried expression came into view, the smell of rain and cigarette smoke invading your senses; the sound of the audience in a similar state of confusion drifted around the corner as Jack crouched down next to you, just back inside from his break from the show, the realization that you weren’t as immune to hypnosis as you’d thought hitting you like a bucket of cold water. You just panted in shock, surprise, and waning lust as Jack looked you over in concern, your hands moving to pull the bottom of your skirt down to cover your exposed legs in embarrassment, the scratches you were so certain he’d left behind not there, because he hadn’t been there.

‘I’m fine,’ you force yourself to say after you’d caught your breath, Jack believing you but still helping you to your feet like a gentleman, of course he would never act that way, that was only how you’d wanted him to act, you’d had dreams like that for god’s sake, the real Jack would never-

‘Is the show over?’ he asked as the roar of people applauding overtook the chatter, Carmichael now silent, and you avoided his eye as you started to edge towards the way out.

‘I think so.’

‘What was the big mind-blowing act?’

You put a little distance between yourself and him but he didn’t notice, Jack heading for the corner so he could look at the stage as he waited for your reply. ‘He hypnotized everyone,’ you answered curtly, his reaction big and full of surprise as he looked over the size of the crowd in an awe that wasn’t present for the first hour and a half.

‘Everyone? You should’ve come found me, I would’ve loved to see that.’ He was still looking at the room beyond, your eyes on him as he watched everyone else.

‘I got a little overwhelmed,’ you mumble, and he finally looked at you with that same concerned expression again, and it’s too much after what you’d just thought you’d seen, your eyes finding the floor.

‘What did he make you see?’ he asked, his curiosity quiet but still there under the concern, but you couldn’t answer him. ‘Do you need a ride home, or are you okay to drive?’

He’s too kind, he would never act that way, he would never say that to you.

‘I took a cab, I’ll be fine,’ you tried to say, but still you quickly found yourself being led to the front door as the audience swarmed around you, his hand on your back to make sure you stayed standing, a true gentleman. It had started raining while you were inside which explained the scent pairing with the smoke that covered up his cologne, and you just stood under the marquee as he hailed a cab for you as the sea of skeptics washed around you like rushing water. You hopped inside but he didn’t shut the door right away, leaning down in the rain once you were seated, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to get in when he spoke.

‘I do hope you come to my show, preferably Friday’s, it’s gunna be a good one, I promise,’ he said with that big genuine smile again, your heart pounding as your cheeks glowed red for a reason other than embarrassment as you gave him a small nod.

‘I’ll be there,’ you promised back, and he tapped the roof of the cab before shutting the door and letting you go. You looked out the back window as you drove away, the both of you waving as he ducked back inside and out of the rain, and as soon as you turned back around to face forward you found yourself reaching for your wallet. His card was in your hands as you looked it over, all in all it was an uninspiring, plain business card, and you flipped it over to read what he wrote for the ticketmaster on the back.

Wait for me by the back entrance at 11:00 Phil will let you in JD

Your cheeks turned red again as you put the card away, the cab driver giving you a look in the rearview mirror as you held your nearly empty wallet, now with one business card, to your thumping chest. Oh yeah, it definitely was all worth it after all.

#Ray's Readers #david dastmalchian #jack delroy #jack delroy x reader #would you believe I wrote this over a few hours listening to a dramatic cover of Dear God cause I loved the vibes lmao #completely wrong vibes but it's SUCH a good cover guys #it's pretty tame for this one but yeah full disclosure there's probably gunna be lots of hands focus in my writings #his are Beautiful and Perfect and Very Attractive and I am W E A K okay

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celerydays · 1 year ago

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could you walk us through what notebooks & journals & pens /etc you use - they look so good!

I would be SO happy to, you have no idea!!

Alright, let's fucking GOOOO~

Starting off with my current "workhorse" pens - I have like *checks notes* 36 fountain pens and a bit too many inked up atm, but these are just the ones I'm currently reaching for or have inked up more often than not:

TWSBI Go (F): Kinda ugly! But also kinda cute! It's cheap and works great (I friggin love TWSBI pens tbh) and it has a little hole on the cap where you can attach a lanyard or charms, like I did! Makes it cuter imo and it's kind of my emotional support pen these days.

Opus88 Pocket (EF): This 2022 edition has a little Moon tarot design on the cap so it's pretty much the pen I use exclusively for my witchy/tarot practice journals! A lil bummed the cap doesn't post, especially since its a shorter pocket-sized pen, but not a deal breaker and I still love it.

Pilot Custom 823 (F): My grail pen that I've literally coveted for years and just recently acquired at the DC Pen Show this weekend! It's only been a day but I think it could potentially become my favorite pen. Ever.

Pilot Prera (CM): This is my third Prera lol. I just think they're great and really underrated pens! Also a recent acquisition from the DC Pen Show and this cursive M nib is suuuuper fun to write with.

Pilot Vanishing Point (EF): My favorite pen for planning! Super fine-tipped for writing task lists and schedules and love that it's so convenient/quick-draw with the click mechanism.

(I'm totally a Pilot pen ho, can you tell? asdjflaglsg)

Journals/Planners/Notebooks under cut–

Sterling Ink B6 Common Planner: For a good chunk of this year, I was in this planner because I honestly love the size and all the layouts. Super practical and flexible as a system. 10/10 would go back. I've used it to plan, as a reading journal, as a tarot log...

But I get the itch to move around so it's been sitting a little unused since like June, oop.

Leuchtturm A6: I started craving something tiny and minimal so I've been bullet journaling in this pocket notebook for the last month or two and I'm really enjoying it!

Standard-sized Tomoe River Paper notebook: This is pretty consistent in that I don't change up the system itself, but I'm in and out of it for memory keeping/scrapbook journaling! It's almost always a Tomoe River paper notebook of SOME kind that I usually buy in A5 size to go to FedEx and get it cut down to standard. Though I'm thinking of getting a blank Midori MD A5 to have cut down next time - I've been liking the freedom of blank pages for journaling instead of anything lined or gridded.

I really need to catch up with it tbh, but I love sitting in an explosion of printed photos, stickers, and washi and going ham with the pages.

(I do have a flip through of my January-March 2022 pages on YouTube)

Midori MD Cotton B6 Slim: I also have this sketchbook that sorta turned into a visual sketch diary of sorts. I fell off a while ago but want to get back into it because it's super fun to work in and to look back on!

Wide-sized Cosmo Air Light notebook & A5 Filofax Malden: These are my tarot/witchy journals. Grimoires I guess? One is for journaling and all my messier notes while the other is more for reference and ease of organization.

A5 Leuchtturm: I didn't know if I should include this guy, but I've been writing it in a lot recently so I guess I will lol. This is like truuuly a miscellaneous™ notebook.

I got this A5 notebook back in 2017 to use as my very first bullet journal, then found out that this size is personally waaaay too big for me to use as a bullet journal so I hopped off of it pretty quick. It now sits on my desk because since it's mostly blank I'll just pick it up to use it to write literally A N Y T H I N G.

Most recently, I wrote like 5 pages in one night on notes for a fanfiction piece I was working on (I'm not a writer, this fic is never gonna see the light of day by anyone but me lololol. Hyperfixation is so wild; I've put 80k+ words within just 10 days into it so far and it's been hella therapeutic.)

That's all, I think!?

It's funny because I actually have a NEW notebook arriving tomorrow that I'm going to try out as a bujo/commonplace/omni journal of sorts?? I might write an update post after I've set that up and see how I like it <3

#journal #journaling #bullet journal #memory keeping #notebooks #fountain pen #grimoire #sketchbook #commonplace book #tarot journal #cel journals #anon #ask #celerydays

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shark-myths · 29 days ago

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hi!!!! ive probably sent an ask like this before but how do you keep up the motivation to finish a longer fic? whenever i start writing a fic i know will be long i end up abandoning it or getting bored or not knowing how to continue / end it. the few multichaptered fics ive posted are incomplete and i dont know when they’ll be finished. i have a couple of longer fics in drafts but it just feels like such a challenge to finish them. how do you do it?

ooh i love this question! i am proud of being a finisher--in all my years of writing fic (it's been... many), i have only ever once started posting something i didn't finish. i generally wait until i'm really confident i can finish a fic before i begin posting it. sometimes, as you may have experience in real time with Rosewood Lane, there is a looooong time between updates... but i usually like to keep an update schedule. giving myself deadlines works really well to motivate me and keep myself organized! i also tend to be a daily writer, i'm happiest when i have a little time to sit down every morning and work on a project, whether that's rereading, editing, or writing deeper into the story. i actually am usually trying to make my fics shorter than they end up, but i feel like most stories have their shape already and know how long they need to be to do what i want them to, and i'm merely hanging on. i would love to get better at writing short pieces. having cheerleaders and readers helps too! i find it so exciting to share updates with everyone.

when a story gets boring--and this does happen to me--i try to jump around and write any shred of it i can find that feels interesting, or i go back to the last part that felt interesting and either change or entirely scrap what comes after it that went flat for me. i also avoid any type of real outlining or plotting (sometimes this is pretty obvious in my finished product, oops) because once i know everything that's going to happen, the why and how and where of a story's arc, i lose interest in writing it. i'm in it for the surprise and whatever's coming around the bend! if i have it all planned out, there feels to be very little point in actually writing it--instead it starts to feel like a dreaded task to me. work, not writing.

i also sometimes leave stories alone for a long time. i did this with Footnote, and i did it with Dirty Enough to Love, and i did it with my 1950s au when it was too much GENDER and REALITY for me to deal with. these don't see the light of day while they're on the back burner; the pressure to post can turn right into avoidance and dislike of a project for me, which is why i am so slow to start posting a story even when a significant portion is already written.

so i guess, writing tips from a shark, tl;dr version:

give yourself a schedule for writing and posting that feels organized and manageable

don't rush to start posting, this can turn an unfinished story into a task you want to avoid

find someone you can share your excitement with, whether they're in the fandom or not, and talk about your ideas and intentions with them

trust the length a story wants to be

also, trust yourself about the length of story you interested in writing

if it's boring, try telling it differently. jump ahead, jump back, delete the scene that got you stuck, change something, drop part of the narrative, skip some time or detail

don't be afraid to abandon something and come back to it months or years later

create more mystery and unknowns in the story to keep yourself interested. hide things from yourself! throw wrenches in your best-laid plans! let your characters completely sabotage you! obscure the path ahead so you are interested by the task of finding it again.

whatever you do, just keep writing. you will have a lifelong relationship to the craft and it will change over time, like our bodies, like the seasons. be where the joy is right now and don't get too worried about where you want to be later.

thank you for the thoughtful question! happy writing 💜

#writing #asks #great question!#thank you dear

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wishing-on-a-staranise · 6 months ago

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pt. 1: Manic pixie dream girl

(s.h. x desi!fem!reader)

warning/tags: use of (y/n), she/her pronouns used, based in 2010s, mention of cheating, bad parents, arguments, alcohol, mention of homophobia, toilet jokes (literally. i apologize), everybody is atleast a lil bicurious (except robin ofc)

a/n: and it starts!! i know i rreally kept yall waiting on this one and i probs will continue to do so (oops) im just out here trying to teach yall about delayed gratification lol soz

this fic went in crack fic territory for a bit of this chapter (yes the toilet museum is an actual place) i swear i don't know why my fics end up having potty humour sometimes I'm sorry

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist

masterlist

…

[Challa]

The last time Steve Harrington went on a vacation was with his parents when he was thirteen.

When he turned fourteen, his dad told him to focus more on school and sports and stopped bringing him around.

And sure, maybe it was also because during that past vacation, Stanley Harrington was found with screwing around with his secretary by his wife. Steve didn't remember much of it; he was hiding in the other room when the shouting began. Thankfully the walls muffled most of it.

it was after that vacation, things changed, Steve finally started to see through the cracks in the image his family always put up– the picture-perfect family. The well manufactured family photos hanging throughout his empty house tried their best to hide everything ugly. He started to see how in the photographs, his dad refused to stand closer to his mom, how his mom didn’t smile.

The expression on his father’s face that closely resembles a scowl, as if he was forced to take a picture with a business partner and not his own wife and son. The expensive dress his mom wore along with her makeup done perfectly. The grey bags under both their eyes.

Finally, himself– hair shorter than it is now because his dad always told him a real man never lets it grow past his ears, all slicked down and brushed aside, his expensive suit that made him better dressed than any other thirteen year old in town and his teeth stretched in what his mom called his ‘million dollar smile’.

It was after that vacation, that his mom stopped trusting his dad, and Steve didn't blame her– he stopped trusting him too. from that point on, Steve's mom would always go with his dad for his business trips. He tried not to think about if his dad ever saw that girl again.

Things changed. His mom, who had always loved gardening, hired a guy to take care of the flowers instead. the flowers were never as bright as they were when she used to take care of them. And sure, she had always liked wine, but now, Steve couldn't recall when he didn't see her with a bottle next to her or with the twig of wine glass twisting between her fingers.

Things changed. They are tired now, both of them.

So yeah, he didn't have the fondest memories of vacations.

But when his two best friends, Robin Buckley, and Eddie Munson suggested a trip before the latter leaves for a band tour he had managed to land, Robin gets into her new college and he himself gets ready for his dad's work– Steve just couldn't say no.

Currently they were in a random shop of the airport. Steve's legs are stiff from the long flight, same with his neck. if it was socially acceptable to lie like a puddle between the aisles of a store in an airport, he would do it.

“Robs, how long is this going to take?” Steve asks.

she ignores them as she cards through travel brochures and books, her back to the two boys. Steve adjusts his hold on the heavy basket, the thing filled to the brim with random snacks and some alcohol because the in-flight meal really was not it, plastic of the handle digging into his palm.

“Just pick one and let's check out already.”

“No.”

Steve once again readjusts his hold on the basket, hoping that the robin's crankiness is because of the long flight and not because she is still mad at him, “why?”

“Because someone has to plan where we are going to go. And neither of you two are too keen on it–”

"Don't drag me into this Buckley-" Robin shoots eddie a stern glare before he could even finish his sentence. He clears his throat before excusing himself from the aisle. The wheels of the suitcase he carried squeak behind him as they roll over the clean tiles of the airport.

Steve sighs– yep, she was still mad at him, “Robs..”, he trails off, hoping she spares him a glance. when she doesn't and instead continues to flip through the glossy pages of the thin book, he speaks up, “Hey, Robin.”

He hears her sigh. “Here", She tosses the books in the basket he had been holding and makes a beeline towards the cashier without sparing him a single look, "let’s just go.”

…

[Ek akela is sheher mein]

The sky is in this inbetween of day and evening with grey clouds above them while they load their luggage into the cab.

Eddie sits upfront, his frizzy hair now in a bun. Steve sits in the back with Robin, hoping to strike up conversation with her but the pair of headphones over her ears don't let him do so. Steve sighs, he can tell that she isn't listening to music, but they make it pretty clear she doesn't want to have a conversation.

The windows are cranked open, they have dried up water streaks– it might have rained not too long ago. The asphalt is glistening, reflecting the yellow streetlamps and the red taillights. The cab driver drives like Eddie– a bit too fast for Steve’s liking. Tires splash murky rainwater into little mesmerizing sprays when bikers drive through the puddles, surely wetting some of the passersby with the dirty water. Steve doesn't think of the dirty laundry those people would have to do though, or the showers those people have to take. Instead, he focuses on the sound the water creates, ringing against the metal of the underside of the car, a satisfying sound.

The cab driver takes so many turns, Steve lost count after the third one. A song plays on the radio, an old song, he can tell by the static and that accompanies the singer, the crackle at the beginning of the song. He doesn't know what the man sings in the song, it is quiet with its percussion, delicate with the strings. Steve catches Eddie absentmindedly tapping his fingers on his knee.

Steve looks over the console, it reads 106.4 FM. They're stuck in traffic when the song fades off. two voices come on, who Steve assumes are the hosts. They talk amongst themselves, joke, laugh, yet they speak with a perfect cadence that makes him think they've done it for ages. By the time the traffic gets moving, another song starts playing, this one more chipper than the last one.

The driver weaves through the crowd, making sure to use his horn more than is necessary. when he turns into a lane, Its a tight fit, the car and the road, yet somehow, he manages to maneuver the vehicle around the lamp post and random wrongly parked bikes.

The entire time they are checking into the hotel, Robin stands separately, flipping through the magazines near the sofa of the waiting area. Steve and Eddie fill in details and she only speaks up when asked for an id card. The staff helps them take their luggage to their rooms. Robin wordlessly goes into her room.

It is when Steve is taking off his shoes, Eddie jests, "what a scene ain't it Harrington?" Looking up, Steve finds the older boy holding the curtains wide open, the window faces a brick wall, despite being promised a good view. Steve doesn't say anything, he breathes out what can only be described as a half-hearted chuckle.

“What do I say to her?" Steve asks, running his hands over his face.

“Don’t ask me,” Eddie shakes his head before hanging his jacket inside the closet, “it's you two who have the whole platonic soulmate shit going on, I'm just a third wheel over here”, he mumbles rather dryly, heading towards the bathroom, the door closing behind him.

...

Robin's room was right in front of theirs-- room 105. Steve knocks on the wood. The door swings open after a few seconds, and there is Robin in comfier clothes, makeup taken off and a deep furrow between her brows, “hey.”

“You plan on being mad at me for all of this vacation?”

“...No, but you make it really easy”, she rolls her eyes opening the door a bit more so he could come in.

“Yeah… I’m sorry”, he apologises with a small grin as he slips in.

“I know dingus”, she chuckles a little, closing the door.

he looks around the room, “Dude, this room is so much better”, this was definitely more spacious than the one he and Eddie were in, “Or maybe that’s ‘cause mine has Eddie in it.”

She holds up the bottle of vodka they had picked up at the store earlier, “don't mind if I do”, Steve makes grabby hands at the bottle, grinning when she passes it to him. He twists open the cap and pours it into the glasses she holds up that already had some water in them.

the corners of her lips curl up as well, “mine has somewhat of a balcony too”, she tells him, handing him his glass.

“dude, what?”, his eyes widen. and when he walks over, pulling the curtains aside he is met with the glimmering city skyline, “our window faces a brick wall”

she laughs before sliding the glass door open. stepping forward, the balcony is small– the railing a mere two steps past the threshold of the sliding glass door. Robin leans, her elbows resting on the cool metal railing and Steve wipes away some of the rain droplets with his palm before following suit.

Despite it being around 9 pm, looking at the skyline it seems the city of Delhi never sleeps. there's a faint buzz of upbeat music playing somewhere close– there must be a club nearby. or a wedding.

“We should go clubbing tomorrow”, Robin suggests, raising her glass up in the air towards him.

he hums while raising his own. glasses clink, “sure thing, partner” he says before he downs the entire thing, face scrunching at the burning taste on his tongue.

Robin sips some of her own, her gaze moving down to the road below. There is a litter of puppies chasing each other around the empty street, the warm yellow light of the lamp post filtering over them. an older dog sits by the street light, watching over them. it's quieter than what the rest of the town seems like, hushed, calmer than the rush they had met on their way here.

Steve frowns at his already empty glass and goes back in the room to retrieve the bottle, pouring himself some more on the way back to the balcony, “shouldn't we offer some to Eddie?--”

“we need to talk”, she interrupts him.

they both pause as he gulps a bit of his drink before saying, "well, we are aren't we?"

"no, like talk-talk"

“ok”, he nods once before his brows meet in confusion, “about..?”

"you said it yourself, I can't be mad at you the entire time we're here."

“Robs, it's okay–”

“I think it's pretty obvious I don't like you going for that job.”

“mhm, yeah, you've communicated that well enough.”

"exactly! and you still can't get it through your thick skull"

"what exactly?"

“you don't want that job steve! I know you. you don't like that kind of job and I don't want you to do this thing just because your dad is pushing you to do it”, her grip on her glass tightens, “it's-- it's stupid. thats a stupid thing to do.”

“it's not stupid Robin–”

“i want you to do a job that makes you happy, finance doesn't make you happy”

“believe it or not robs, working at scoops also didn't make me all that happy, working with my best friend did. and you'll be moving out to chicago”

"if I get in", steve takes offence to how quickly she shuts down that possibility.

"you will. I know you don't believe it Robs, but you'll get that college you wanted and then you'll move out. and Eddie is doing all these gigs, trust me", he turns to her, silently begging for her to look him in his eyes, "me going for this job is the best option, Robin." When her eyes stay trained on the street below, he sighs before looking back up at the sky-- no stars in sight. "and you're right, it's not a job I want. but I do need it. and if my asshole dad is still willing to help my sorry ass then I should seize it right?"

he glances back at her, he doesn't get a response from her, yet Steve looks at her with furrowed brows, begging for her to agree.

two of the puppies wrestle amongst themselves, it's all high pitched barks and rolling around, dirtying their fur in the process.

its quiet for a while, he sips his remaining drink. for a while its just that ambiance, the muffled city noise, dogs barking, the hum of air conditioners.

"dude, you're going to become a finance bro", Steve finally hears her say, "then I'll be best friends with a finance bro, ew", she scrunches her face the way he knows it's mostly playful, a laugh falling from her lips by the end of the sentence.

I want you to do a job that makes you happy.

I want you happy.

he laughs too, breathy. he readjusts his grip on his glass, leaning against the rails next to her. “I'm gonna save up, robs”, he promises looking her right in the eyes-- its hard to see the blue in them in this dark, “and if everything works out we can just get an apartment in Chicago then we can be roommates?”

she looks back at him, brows shooting up, “...you promise?”

“pinky.”

she gulps before taking another sip from the glass in her hand, “I don't wanna lose more people steve”, she says, her thumb wiping the condensation on the glass in her hand, and he can tell she's trying her darndest to not let her voice crack.

her parents hadn't taken kindly to her coming out. she hadn't even meant to come out. Vickie's ex boyfriend had outed both of them to their parents– it had been a mess.

whenever she'd tried to call her parents, as soon as they'd realise that it was her, the line would cut off. Once they recognised that she'd always call from either Steve's or Nancy's, they stopped picking up altogether.

it's been months.

“you won't ever lose me Robs”, he immediately says because there is no doubt in it, meaning it more than anything else.

She leans her head on his shoulder, letting in a deep breath, and somehow Steve just knows it means ‘I love you, dingus’

He wraps an arm around her, squeezing her shoulder ‘love you too birdie’.

Silence takes over, but it isn't all that much quiet, the puppies bark, their feet splashing against the little puddle they are playing around now. The two who had been fighting are licking each other. The faint music is still present, cars still honking away in the heart of the city– people honk a lot here. It's all faint but there.

“So", he takes in a deep breath, "you plan where we're going yet?”

Robin takes her head off his shoulder before clearing her throat, “yeah, a bit–", she takes a sip of the forgotten drink in her hold, "there's just so much– there's too much honestly. maybe we get a guide but like those are expensive aren't they? I don't know, maybe they aren't–"

"Robs slow down"

"Okay, okay uh... I have a couple places down", she walks back into the room, picks up the book she had gotten earlier and hands it to him. Flipping through the glossy pages, Steve sees a few monuments and tourist attractions are marked by a pen, Steve is sure he can't pronounce most of these names.

“Oh, did you know they have a toilet museum here?” Robin speaks up after some time.

“wh–”

“before you say it, yes I'm being serious, they have a toilet museum, and were going there”

“seriously? they have historical buildings, monuments, tombs and shit and you wanna see a toilet museum?”

"we'll go to those places too but I also wanna see a toilet museum"

"why?"

"so I can find a place for you and Eddie to live."

“thanks", he deadpans.

They discuss and talk through their plans for the next day. its after midnight when Steve says his goodnight, the bottle of remaining vodka in his hand. for Eddie of course.

“Night Steve, kiss Eddie goodnight for me!”

“shut up.”

….

Despite having zero concrete plans, Steve, Robin and Eddie were definitely behind on their schedule. Sleeping in too late made them miss their free complementary breakfast that the hotel offered.

Steve was so hungry that he would eat Eddie if it was morally and ethically an okay thing to do.

They instead had to order the hotel food which took way too goddamn long to come. Thankfully, when they were done, the hotel manager offered them a guide and a cab to show them around.

The guide was fluent in english, talking about the history of the places he took them. Qutb minar, Jama Masjid, Swaminarayan Akshardham, Humayun's tomb, india gate, lotus temple, All historical places and important monuments. And as beautiful as they were, all the information sort of muddled together for Steve. although incredibly knowledgeable, the guide was going a bit too fast for him.

when the tour for the day was nearing an end, Robin bought up the toilet museum. If the man wasn't getting paid such a good amount, he wouldn’t have bothered to even hide his judgement like he did.

...

“That one looks like a confession booth”, Eddie points to the wooden seat that looked to be from the olden times, and much to his credit, the description was in fact apt.

“That one just looks like a bird-bath!” Robin points to the one in question and once again the description was accurate.

“This one is just a glorified flower pot.”

“Is it really glorified though?”

“Do you think… they'll let us sit on it? I wanna sit on the confession booth one”

“.. I dont know robin, why dont you ask them.”

“Please, do not touch them”, the guide interrupts them immediately.

“Dude, that one looks like a therapist's chair!” robin skips towards the toilet seat in question, having the time of her life. The other two follow behind. Steve looked around at the multitude of posters hung on the walls– who knew toilets would have such rich history. Along with informative posters, the walls were also covered in comic strips related to poop– toilet humor at its finest, truly.

Steve takes a big gulp from the water bottle Robin had made to hold. just when he is doing so, he feels someone bump into his shoulder, some of the water spilling onto his shirt from the action.

"oh shit, I'm so sorry!" you apologise with wide eyes.

a "sorry" falls from Steve's lips as well even though he didn't do anything.

Your wide eyes morph into a shy smile, “oh shit", you mumble, giggles erupting from your throat before you even know it, "You know ‘cause– uh.. Shit", you try to explain, gesturing around you.

“Oh, yeah, yeah I get it”

“Sorry, by the way”

“Its okay. I wasn't looking”, you smile a little shyly when he shakes his head, “I was just looking at… all this”, he pointing his thumb in the general direction of the wall. You hum through a small laugh "I mean who would even think of a toilet based museum?"

“maybe it's a dig at how the British took everything else so…."

"holy shit, that's an interesting way to look at it"

"yeah, pretty sure it's not true but that's how I choose to look at it"

“I– I’m sorry, I didn't quite catch your name–”

“Hey, Steve!” he stops midway when he hears his name from across the hall, voice belonging to Robin.

“Sorry, I have to go, I've been here for hours,” you start walking past him, glancing at your watch, “Fun meeting you, Steve.”

"Who was that girl?" is the first thing Robin asks when Steve finally walks over to them.

He shrugs, "the hell am I supposed to know?"

"So you talked to her for like half an hour and you don't know?"

"It wasn't that long, Munson."

"it felt that long, especially considering the second hand embarrassment I felt from way over there."

He rolls his eyes, unscrewing his abandoned water bottle and taking a swig from it while walking ahead.

“Hey dingus, quit being sulky.”

“I'm not being sulky”

“Yeah, you are. I mean, what were you expecting Harrington? a meet-cute?”

“no, dude. I was just trying to talk to someone normal”

“I know the urges are there harrington”, Robin starts, making Steve scrunch up his nose at her choice of words, “its been months since the break up– I get it. There's a time and place for everything. This was not it.”

“Oh my god”, Steve mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Give poor Harrington a break Robin”, Eddie’s hand claps the boy's shoulder, speaking with a kind cadence– one too kind for Edward Munson, “maybe he hasn't moved on, didn't he say that she was the one?”

“The one? Doesn't our hopeless romantic say that about every girl? Even me, at one point– if I remember correctly?”

“God, you're never gonna let me live that down are you?”

“No.”

“Okay, stop”, Steve holds up his hands, “I wasn't doing anything. she just bumped into me and… small talk happened, that's it. end of story. and I'm not being sulky or anything. and yes I am very much over the break up, it happened months ago. So can you both stop bringing it up all the time?”

Robin and Eddie share a look, “..sure.”

…

Eddie and Robin had already collected back the room keys, and already left for their respective rooms. Crowning Steve with the responsibility of handling the finances with the tour guide. It is when Steve is paying the guide, the glass door opens. And when Steve glances over, he is met with your face. He can't help the smile that creeps onto his face.

You haven't noticed him yet, instead walking straight towards the counter. "Room 111”, he hears you say while he tries to hand the money to the guide as quickly as possible.

The guide nods, thanking him with a smile. The key clink when the manager puts it on the counter, Steve is there and the words come out of his mouth before he even knows it. “Toilet museum girl?”

Your head snaps towards him, features morphing into what can only be described as disgust. There is a flash of recognition before you say, “uh… what the fuck did you just call me?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just– we just keep running into each other, don't we?”

A smirk comes onto your face, you swipe up the keys from the counter before you start moving towards the elevators, “That we do. Are you stalking me?”

“uh, not intentionally, no", he clarifies, following behind you.

You give him a look, "uh huh."

"I know it looks bad but I swear it's happenstance"

The elevator button lights up beneath your finger when you press it, "Sure", you say in a tone that says you do not believe him at all.

"i swear I'm–"

"I already said ‘sure’", you deadpan, the doors ding open and the both of you step in. He sees the corners of your mouth curl up when you move to press the button for the floor you both were on, Steve couldn't help but smile too.

"yeah but the way you said it... said otherwise"

"what? what way?" your brows pull together, voice with the same sarcastic lilt.

"you're doing it again, toilet girl."

"Here's a deal steve, don't call me anything toilet museum related and I'll stop using that tone."

"deal. but... what should I call you then?", he asks, shoving his hands in his jean pockets– trying to take a confident pose, "I could call you by your name... but you won't tell me"

"have you heard of stranger danger Steve?", You cross your arms, turning towards him, "what if I was a serial killer who only murders in small suffocating elevators?"

The elevator dings again, the door opening on their own accord, "then it's a good thing we're here already!", he says, gesturing for you to step out, "and we aren't really strangers--"

"we are."

"Well, we can change that, can't we?", you stop at your room number. you don't answer, but Steve is sure he heard you hum under the rattle of your keys.

When the lock clicks open, he speaks up, “Hey, uh... what're you doing tonight?”

You turn around, “... uh, Sleep probably”, there’s that tone again.

“No, princess”, he mimics your sarcastic tone but the nickname comes out before he even knows, “before that.”

Your eyes narrow, maybe at the tone, maybe at the nickname, “Nothing, I'll probably rot in bed or something”

“You're alone?”

“Does it matter?” you counter immediately.

“Well we’re going to a club nearby, you can tag along? and if you're with someone you can bring them along too?"

"Why must I? You could be an international axe murderer"

“You think such a handsome, pretty face could ever murder?”

“And what if I say I don't do alcohol?”

“Then you can be our designated driver?”

“Yeah, no”, you sigh, the door knob twisting in your hand.

“Okay, well if you change your mind– it's the club right down the road.”

“Have fun with your friends”, is all you say before disappearing behind the door. And Steve is left behind, staring at the wood, the number 111 mocking him.

God, what the fuck was he thinking?

…

The next morning, they thankfully wake up on time despite being definitely and awfully hungover. So here Steve was, with his messy bed hair and sleep mussed eyes, standing in line for the toaster, with a plate in his hand.

Steve blinks slowly as the queue moves, the air smells like coffee, warm toast, and waffles. He can smell spices too, probably from the dishes which he had never had before or heard the name of. And as much as Steve loves trying out new dishes, a hangover is not a good time to experiment with his taste buds so he thinks he’ll have to chew on toast and wash it down with mediocre coffee this morning.

The line moves forward again, he feels something brush against his back but he chalks it up as an accident and ignores it. He turns when he feels a finger poking into his shoulder and it's you. “Hi”, you smile up at him, you're wearing jeans and a pink embroidered top. Your hair is untied, tucked behind your ears and a little damp.

His free hand immediately flies up to his hair, fingers running through the messy strands to make it look a little more presentable, “uh, hi”, palm smoothes over his wrinkly t-shirt.

“Is.. is that your friend?” you say pointing to Eddie who was standing over at the waffle machine, pouring some honey on his stack.

“Yeah, yeah that's Eddie”

“Oh, makes sense”, you say, met with confusion written on Steve's face, “He kept trying to strike up a conversation. Also his waffles are a little burnt– I wouldn't share if I were you.” Steve laughs at that, fingers still trying to tame his wild mess of hair, “So, I see you had fun at that club last night”

“That obvious?”

“Very.”

"Where are you planning on going today?", you ask.

"not sure, Robin is deciding right now probably"

“Robin..?”

“Oh, she’s over there”, he points to his best-friend who was sitting at an empty table, coffee already in hand, flipping through pages of a book.

"you three really didn't plan any of this huh?"

"no, not really."

…

"so you're telling me you're travelling by car and barely trying any street food. jail. jail time to all of you", you were sitting with Steve and his friends now.

"how the hell were we supposed to know? the guide didn't tell us"

"what was the poor guy supposed to do? you can't see so much in just a couple days"

"but there's just so much", you hear Robin speak up for the first time.

"yeah! and you have to accept that you can't see everything, no matter what you do, you're always going to miss something. so shorten this list of yours. and the things you do see, take your time with them. or you'll forget them."

“Ok bud, then where should we go?”

"well if you want to you can go to the red fort, then chandni chowk and then Hazrat Nizamuddin dargah? Its thursday so it’ll be absolutely packed"

"Okay. Will we find you there?"

"I hope not." you say non-chalantly while sipping your chai.

"maybe– maybe we can all go together?" Steve suggests with raised eyebrows. you make an unconvinced noise at the offer. "Still on the fence about the axe murderer thing?"

"Always."

…

Steve wasnt sure how, but he had managed to convince you to come along with them. He sat infront of you in the auto rikshaw, your hair had dried by the time you reached your first destination.

The tour around red fort ended rather quickly than he had anticipated, before you pulled them all to chandni chowk.

your hair was now tied up, some of the baby strands sticking to the back of your neck. you looked like you felt right at home, skipping from one shop to another. stopping for some delectable street food every now and then.

you were all enjoying a sweet syrupy jalebi when you called for Robin's name, “Do you like wearing earrings?” you ask.

the girl looks at you, a little hesitant when she answers, “Uh.. someti–”

“Here! This one would look great on you”, you say holding up a pair of glimmering silver and blue earrings. "do you like it?"

"I- um, I do", you grin at that.

steve wasn't where the time flew, but they were already headed to your next destination on your list with bags of little things he, Eddie and Robin bought.

...

[kun Faya kun]

It felt weird to be barefoot, you had given all the shoes to a man by a store. Where the four of you stood now, the street looked breathtaking. Small shops, some selling flowers and incense, some selling religious blankets that you had called chaddars, others selling attar, and so on and so forth. The bright greens, reds, blues and oranges of the chaddars illuminated by the warm lights of the shops looked akin to a canopy of swirling colours.

Currently, you were helping Robin put on a scarf you had gotten earlier from a shop in Chandni chowk over her head, just the way that you had. When you were done, you instructed the two boys to cover their heads as well. When you were met with confused looks from the two of them, you clicked your tongue before covering their head with their handkerchief and tying it behind their head.

The man at the store then handed you a few plates with flowers, incense and a few threads, “what are those for?” he asks, pointing at the threads.

“You make a wish with them”, his brows scrunch up together, “come on, I'll explain”, you say, grabbing him by his wrist.

…

“You see these walls? people come from all over, they tie a thread”, you say pointing to a man who was tying the red string into the lattice of the wall. the entire wall had such threads tied to them-- all little prayers and wishes made by someone out there. so many people want something. “and they make a mannat. you tie a thread and make a wish. it's like you're asking for a favour.”

“so I ask for whatever I want?”

“whatever you want", you echoed with a smile before pointing to where a lot of men were by the wall, “you boys do it over there, me and Robin are going there– it's reserved for women".

When Steve is looping the thread through the hole, he does so mindlessly, and only when he is about to tighten the knot does he stop to wonder… what exactly is he wishing for? what the hell does he want?

He looks over at Eddie, who already has his temple leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. Steve wonders what he asked for. he thinks he has a hunch.

Without even thinking, his eyes start searching for robin. he sees you help her tie it before the girl leans her head against the wall too. Steve knows full well what she wants.

And then he sees you, you hesitate while looping the thread. you hesitate when tie the first knot. you hesitate for the second. even from this far away, he could see the hesitation in your eyes before you close them.

He blinks and his gaze snaps back to his own thread, the knot still not tightened. His fingers move on their own when he ties the first one.

what does he want?

He twists the red thread, looping the long end through the loop.

what does he want?

And when he ties the last knot, it echoes in his brain, “what do I want?”

…

The group of men sing at the top of their lungs– their voices carrying experience, a roughness that only years of singing can bring. Eddie explains to Steve that the instrument the man was playing was called a harmonium and a dholak.

“how do you know that?”

“I know a lot, Harrington”, he chuckles when he says it.

Steve glances to where you and Robin are sitting among the other women. and despite being surrounded by such a huge crowd, he can tell Robin is calm which he is glad of. He sees you; you're looking at Robin with an expression he can't quite read, and when she glances your way, you quickly flash her a smile before reverting your eyes back to the singing men.

Its awkward, he can tell that much from afar. He thinks Robin is a little nervous around you, maybe finds you attractive with how little she makes eye contact with you, and how everytime you had said anything to her, it was answered in merely a couple words. He can't make sense of your behaviour though, or the way you look at her a little forlorn. he thinks maybe you're hurt by how unwilling Robin might seem to talk to you despite your constant attempts.

[Aaj jaane ki zid na karo]

You all had come back to the hotel an hour or two ago. As soon as you all had arrived, you had left for your room, something about a call you had to make. And now after taking a bit of a rest, they were getting ready to spend whats left of the night at the club they went to last night.

Steve had his fingers crossed, planning on inviting you with them, hoping to god that you agree because he had fun. a lot more than he would like to admit to you or even his friends.

They're all in Steve's and Eddie's room. Robin all ready, sitting on the edge of his bed. Eddie is tying his shoes, his hair already up, his favourite rings on his digits.

Steve himself was trying to get his hair right, despite how much he had styled his thick strands at the start of the day, they were a little flattened now after the day. after he put some pomade on and his hair was just the way he wanted it, he sprayed on his cologne. just when he was contemplating whether to take his ray-bans with him or not, there was a knock on the door.

Eddie who had been putting on his jacket, was the closest to the door. when he clicked open the door, he was met with your face.

"Hi", you say with a smile before noticing that they're all getting ready to go somewhere. "what're you guys getting dolled up for?"

"We were just going to the club nearby--"

"d'you wanna come with?" Steve offers immediately, walking closer.

"um.. I– I can't..", you mumble apologetically, fingers fidgeting, “I just came here because I wanted to say that I had a lot of fun. And uh, all that.”

"So did we”, Eddie says.

"I just wanted to meet you guys before… leaving"

Steve’s face falls a little, “What do you mean?”

“I'm heading out around 2 am. I have a flight at 4. I'm going south after this."

“Oh.”

Its silent. Nobody says anything, what could they say anyway, you were still technically a stranger– they didnt even know your name yet. You hid your hands behind yourself, perhaps picking at your cuticles. Your eyes flitting between all three of them, “I didn't just want to leave so…”, you lift your arms, Eddie who was the closest, hugged you first. Then you moved to Robin, not giving her a second to say anything, you wrap your arms around her shoulders. After maybe a second, she wraps her arms around you too, patting your back a little awkwardly. When you pull away, her face is a little red. You offer her a smile and she finally returns a rather timid one herself.

Your eyes meet Steve’s, you walk over, he moves closer as well. And when you are face to face, you smile up at him. There's a light in your eyes, subdued but there. And from up this close, he thinks you can see it all, all of him. All his doubts, his insecurities, anxieties. Yet you're smiling up at him.

You rock him a little when you hug him, taking him off his balance. He envelops you in his hold, squeezing tighter than he thought he would. "I really had fun”, his eyes close on their own accord when he feels your warm breath on his neck, when he feels your smile on his skin.

“My name is y/n by the way."

Steve pulls away just a little, eyes trained on yours, "can’t you come with us before leaving? It won't take too long."

"Steve...", you start, voice all soft and apologetic.

"No, its okay", he shakes his head before smiling.

You return a smile back before looping your arms around his neck once again, "I'm glad we met Steve."

"me too."

You pull back, looking him in the eyes, you whisper, "goodbye."

"anyway… Um–”, you clear your throat, Steve's hold loosening on you and you remove your arms from around him as well, stepping away. You stiffly walk towards the door, stopping at the threshold, the knob in your grasp, “you guys have fun! don't get robbed or scammed or whatever. Bye." you gave them one last sheepish smile before closing the door.

...

Prayers entwined into the thread of us all

mine was empty

I lied to the strangers I met, free as wind

she reminded me of her

Its not like we’ll meet again, I'll be loud and cheap

she doesn't look at me just like she did

I’ll hug them goodbye, I’ll be a mystery.

...

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x desi!reader #desi!fem!reader #stranger things au #stranger things fic #desi!reader #steve harrington fluff

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thomthomp · 3 months ago

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TADC Jax Cosplay Process and Con Experience !

Hello !! Thought I'd post a little journal/process thing for a Jax cosplay I've done recently! I wouldn't call this a step-by-step tutorial as many of this was trial and error, along with much improvisation (I also didnt plan on doing this so there are few actual process images haha). This was a lot of fun and I hope someone can get something out of this !

MAKING THE OVERALLS

So as this was my first time sewing anything, a couple blunders were made. First I definitely shoulda bought this fabric a metre longer than i did. As a result after cutting it in half to create the two sides, I realised it was gonna be way too short going up the chest. So after sewing the two sides together I ended up with some oversized clown pants, that also happened to be super skinny in the legs as I may have eyballed cutting the inseam lol. Drop crotch realness was in full effect.

I followed this tutorial on how to make the base of my overalls, her very "eh, let's go for it" attitude was massively helpful in making this first sewing attempt less daunting

youtube

So...with limited fabric and with no immediate desire to buy another metre from Hobbycraft, I knew there was only one thing to do...

And that was slapping some leftover scrap on top lol. After that all I had to do was sew the straps on both sides and I had some (just about) wearable, non-adjustable overalls ! The colour is different as I had dyed it in Rit Dyemore super pink after sewing.

Now because I was adding this extra scrap on top after sewing the base, I wasnt able to do flat measurements to see if this scrap would actually go all the way around. Rather than taking more time to properly pin the two parts together and getting a proper look. My impatient brain said %$!# no and just pinned parts of it as i sewed, making it less finicky, but not realising that the scrap was too short. Luckily, pulling that empty space together and sewing it resulted in a fit that was almost perfect for my body, as i wanted it to be form fitting anyway. So remember kids, being impatient works out every time :)

The last details I had to do (other than hot glueing some yellow foam buttons to the straps) was add the chest patch and inside leg sleeves at the bottom. Using the original colour fabric was perfect for these two parts (I swear it looks pinker irl). For the chest patch I just folded some scrap together and top stiched around the edges, leaving the top edge open as convenient phone/card storage for Con. I didn't trust myself to not bind the back and front of the overalls together while sewing it on, so I just used hot glue and slapped in on there. The leg sleeves were even easier, sewing some more scrap around then binding the exposed edges with hot glue.

MAKING THE HEAD

So I had no idea how the head was gonna turn out, my only cosplay head experience prior was my first attempt at Jax last October of which I used painted foam card. Minecraft lookin ass

I knew going in that I wanted to do it fursuit head style, starting with a foam bucket helmet and hot glueing extra foam to the sides to create the skeleton of the head. Goated foam head tutorial by Skyehigh Studios was used for this

youtube

Attaching some half moon foam cut outs to each side of the head, doubling them up for stronger support, then adding some shorter half moons next to each eye hole, I was able to get the oval shape that jax has going on.

I measured around the head between the two half moon cuts on each side, then hot glued two pieces of fleece fabric on the front and back. For UK peeps I'd reccommend poundfabrics.co.uk, really affordable and arrived super quick, which was good since i left buying the fleece about a week before con (oops)

Now here's where I probably shoulda done more pre-measurements and sewed the top part of the fleece on with the side parts, so I could simply slip the thing on the foam skeleton like a beanie. Well, caveman brain got the better of me and just hot glued the underside of the fleece parts together. It was uneven, several holes remained and I burned my fingers, but gosh darn was that there three fleece patches glued together on them there.

Finally, at 2am the night before con I added the ears. I was initially concerned as I had underestimated how the weight of the foam would react to flopping around on the head, which made for some vry droopy ears. To make em more straight, but still keep the flop, I stuck some large cocktail sticks I had lying around about half way up the ears. This still allowed for flop behaviour, but stayed mostly upright while wearing them. After wrapping the fleece around and hotglueing them down in two gaps I had made, the head was officially done !

MAKING THE TOP

For my first time making a top, I followed this Youtube tutorial that went the most simple route I could find, taking one of my long sleeve tops, leaving about 1 cm seam allowance and cutting out two parts each for the top and sleeves.

So, as I was still getting used to using a sewing machine, I had managed to jam the needle multiple times when sewing together the base of the top, ruining almost all the spare needles I had. Upon viewing a tutorial on how not to jam your machine, I realised I had been doing the first three points she made, consistently lol. In the moment and since it was the last day, I didnt want to take risks and simply hotglued that bad boy down.

CON EXPERIENCE

So embarking to the first day of MCM London I immediately realised how awkward the overalls were gonna be to wear, I had to wear them as high and tight as i could otherwise it was gonna look like I had comically short legs. This meant that the thigh area was gonna be fairly uncomfortable when moving and would have to take the straps off and shift everything down if I wanted to sit. Aaaaaand about an hour into the first day, the enevitable rip occurred

Thankfully the rip was probably in the most inconspictuous place possible so i didn't really care lol. But any other fears of more rips, or the ears giving out in the wind were nonexistent with the great time I had meeting people. A big highlight was the very first person who came up to me who was actively looking for digital circus cosplays and HAD CUSTOM POKEMON CARDS THEY WERE GIVING OUT TO THEM.

So cute, made my day T_T, shoutouts to milskellyfox for the card. So yeah met a ton of cool people and everything held together for the whole 3 days, including the ears which I was most spooked about lol. Can't wait to start work on the next costumes for October's Comic-Con!

#tdac jax #jax #the amazing digital circus jax #tadc #cosplay #mcm comic con #mcm 2024 #the amazing digital circus #jax cosplay

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duendepika · 3 months ago

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EndHawks fics!

Putting together a post of my worksafe EndHawks fics for tumblr here. As it turns out, I don't have very many that are worksafe, so this list is a lot shorter than I expected it to be once I put it together. Oops.

Home Rating: T Summary: When Hawks does what he’s convinced is unforgivable, he flees to the only place he can think of. Endeavor’s running out of time to bring him home. Notes: Written as a prediction-fic for what would happen during and after the second war.

Divorce Papers Rating: T Summary: After the second war, the Todorokis plan their divorce. Endeavor finds the courage to come out to his family and tell them the truth about himself and Hawks. The reactions are unexpected. Notes: Told in the perspective of the six Todorokis (and Hawks).

Complicity Rating: T Summary: The HPSC President summons Endeavor to her office for an interrogation about his relationship with Hawks. In doing so, she is forced to reflect on her own complicated feelings towards the No. 2 Pro Hero.

What Else Did You Expect? Rating: T Summary: Endeavor suspects that Hawks is bugged, but he doesn’t consider how Hawks might interpret his demand to strip. Notes: One of my earliest drabbles. It's posted as the first part of a drabble collection, but I never ended up adding more (this is complete though).

This last one is not a ship fic by any means, but it does involve the two of them, so I'll go ahead and add it.

Lachesis Rating: G Summary: When stopping in Fukuoka for a Pro conference, Endeavor finds himself at the HPSC, where it is proposed that he adopt their newest hero-in-training because they think he would develop better within a family. Endeavor refuses at first, until he realizes how powerful the winged child's Quirk is. And so he brings 5-year-old Hawks back to Shizuoka with him to become Todoroki Keigo. Notes: On indefinite hiatus.

#mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fic #bnha fic #endhawks #mha hawks #mha endeavor #takami keigo #todoroki enji #todofam #my fanfiction

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meowzilla93 · 8 months ago

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BaxterMCWeek Day 1: First Meeting

Happy Birthday my darling Monochromatic Man big thank you to @minthe-drawings for hosting this!!

o((>ω< ))o

Baxter was incredibly bored.

Traveling with his parents was always a chore but being stuck at the Cypress, being unable to dance or find a way to entertain himself made things even more so boring. Whilst his parents where busy ‘making connections’ they had banned him from dancing so that he couldn’t get into any trouble.

This of course just made him all the more restless and more likely to look for a way to get into trouble. He had spoken with a few of the other children there, much in the same position as him, being told to ‘rest’ and being quite bored of it.

Hearing the music come across the grounds, Baxter was more and more tempted to find a way to escape the eyes of his instructors and make his way over to where the music sang to him. As he was trying to be as nonchalant as possible, he slowly made his way towards the edge of the crowd, making sure not to draw any attention towards himself.

Biding his time, Baxter simply waited for an opportunity to sneak away undetected, that was until a head of copper hair caught his attention; One that was making its way towards him.

Baxter was certain he had never seen the person before, the striking hair and the pair of mismatched pair of green and gold eyes making a definite impression on him in that moment. Paired with a smile that showed off their teeth, he could swear that they almost looked like a fox that had gotten away with doing sly. He could certainly understand the feeling.

As they made their way closer to him, he noted that this fox was as pale as he was, but their skin was marked with a smattering of freckles, unlike their tanned companion who was attempting to catch his attention as they got closer,

“Hey, so, this might sound weird, but what are you guys all doing here?”

Bright verdant eyes looked up at him, and before he was able to answer the admittedly ‘weird’ question, their fox-like companion chuckled before poking them in the ribs,

“Really, that’s the question you’re gonna go with? After the whole ‘perhaps we walked into an alternate universe’ spiel just earlier?”

Baxter couldn’t help but chuckle at that remark, causing both pairs of eyes to train themselves back onto him. This whole interaction was taking a different course than he anticipated, and it wasn’t something he disliked at all. Allowing a coy smile to cross his face, he decided to play along with their little adventure,

“We’re visitors who are in this town for a dance circuit. This dining area is reserved for our group only tonight. What is going on with you?”

As the shorter of the two chuckled uncomfortably, scratching their cheek, the Fox, as Baxter had chosen to label them, snorted at the reaction; Verdant eyes narrowed at the Fox before starting their apologies,

“Oops. We didn’t know that. There’s a soiree happening on the other side of the club for members and their guests, that’s where we came from. Please don’t tell on us.”

That caught Baxter’s attention; Leaning forward, he became more intrigued with he pair with each passing moment,

“I thought I noticed something that way. It’s been bothering me the entire evening. I was planning to check when it got darker.”

“Why wait?”

Baxter wasn’t certain he heard right, but as verdant eyes matched his own in wideness, he realized he most certainly did. Turning his head back to the Fox, he couldn’t get a proper sentence out,

“I-sorry. What?”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, the Fox tilted their head at him, eyes sparkling with mischief,

“Why. Wait? Seems most of the adults here are busy. Come on! We will sneak you into our soiree! Doubt anyone will notice.”

Baxter wasn’t a stranger to getting himself into trouble or any amount of mischief, but these days that typically happened on his own. A stranger offering to help him sneak out of a boring event? That was certainly a first.

Eyes narrowing at the mischievous Fox in front of him, he couldn’t find it in himself to deny the offer. Taking a quick look around the area, he was confident that no one was paying attention to a trio of kids hovering at the edge of the crowd, he decided that if he were to take up this Fox on this offer, he had better do it now.

“Very well. Lead the way.”

The sly grin turning into a wide smile, Baxter knew he had made the right decision. What he was not expecting, is when the Fox nodded to their companion to quicky make their way back to their soiree, was a warm hand gripping onto his and pulling him along.

Allowing himself to get pulled along, Baxter didn’t even look back to see if anyone had seen him leave. His mind was focused on the person ahead of him, the one with the hair coloured of fallen leaves and a personality that certainly matched the moniker he had given them in his thoughts. He was finally able to take in what his Fox was wearing; A flowy dark green dress with golden accents stitched into it, paired with gold, kitten heeled shoes.

He really could help but think that they belong in a forest, every part of their aesthetic and personality convincing him further. Before he could muse any further about the person who’s hand still held onto his own, the music had started to grow louder and they had finally arrived at the event he was planning to sneak off to later in the evening.

A chuckle pulls him further from his thoughts as he turns and looks at his Fox, who wore a truly happy and satisfied smile; Eyes twinkling with mirth as they let go of his hand and instead swept their own out towards the crowd in front of them.

“Welcome! To our Summer Soiree!”

“Why thank you. I feel honoured to have been given a VIP pass to it.”

Baxter teased, but before he could say anything further, his Fox’s companion was trying to catch their attention.

“Aug, hang on where are –“

Their tanned companion had a worried look on his face as he searched the crowd, and Baxter considered this his time to bow out from their adventure and start on his own.

“It looks like you are both busy. I appreciate the assistance in getting here, but I’ll be able to entertain myself from here.”

He tilts his head in goodbye and watches as crestfallen expression appears on his Fox’s face. He couldn’t deny that he wished he could spend a bit more time with them, but he knew when his presence was no longer needed, and knew how to make himself scarce.

“I -wait hang on.”

Turning their attention back to their companion, his Fox was speaking quickly and quietly, their companion clearly a touch agitated, but the Fox seemed to not be worried about a thing. Not wanting to disturb them further, he quietly stepped back and walked away, taking in the lights and ambiance of the Soiree that he had found himself at.

As he walked around, noting the similar foods, drinks and set up that they had; Nothing drastically different from where he came from, but he could tell the energy here was much happier. More enjoyable to be a part of. Unlike the cold and proper stiffness, he had to deal with at the events he typically has to attend. He found himself enjoying just experiencing the ambiance of the event, and soon he wanted to join in on it.

Making his way toward the dancefloor, he listened to the band slowly coming to the end of current song as he looked around for a potential partner he could enjoy a quick dance with before he had to find his way back to were his parents were no doubt going to start looking for him. His mind wandered to his Fox from earlier in the evening, silently wishing he could see them one last time before he disappeared; That was until he found them standing at the edge of the dancefloor, seemingly looking for a partner to dance with.

Rarely does fate give people the chance to get what they wish for, and Baxter wasn’t going to give up this chance. Walking up, he taps his Fox on the shoulder and as they turn to see who had tried to grab their attention, their face goes from questioning to ecstatic in quick succession.

“Hello! I wondered where you went off to!”

It warmed him to think that someone cared about him, someone who was basically a stranger to him, but it brought a genuine smile to his face. With a flick of his hand, he quickly explains himself,

“I do apologise. I didn’t want to take you away from your friend and you had done so much to just sneak me in already. I didn’t want to impose.”

He watches as his Fox cocks an eyebrow at him, clearly amused at the language he was using. He knew too well that he spoke more formally than most kids, but it was something he took in stride.

“Though, now that I have found you this time round, may I ask; Are planning on dancing?”

“I am if I can find anyone to dance with me. My friend is off on a search and rescue mission, so I’ve been left on my own to find a new partner.”

Baxter would be lying if he said he wasn’t elated at hearing that, but he quickly squashed down any excited emotion and simply held out his hand towards his Fox,

“In that case, we should dance. It’s perfect timing, a new song is just about to start.”

“I think that would be quite fun. Plus at least this way, you won’t disappear as soon as I look away this time.”

The Fox teased him as they placed a hand in his. Without any further words, he simply gave her a wisp of a smile and walked out to the dancefloor. Once they had found a spot, he went into his proper form for dancing, and was pleasantly surprised when his partner had done the same.

The confident way his Fox settled into position, he would be hard pressed to imagine that they hadn’t had lessons in the past, and had been regularly training like he had. As the first notes of the song played through the night, Baxter took the lead in the dance, effortlessly guiding them both into the night. As he continued to guide his Fox across the dancefloor, he couldn’t help but be elated at the knowledge that he had a brilliant dancing partner, deftly matching his steps and competently keeping pace with the music.

Baxter was thoroughly enjoying himself in the company of his Fox, comfortably finding a rhythm with them as they dance. But as all good things do, it came to an end far too soon for his liking. As the music came to an end, he politely stepped back, releasing the warm hands of his fox, before taking a bow.

“Thank you for dancing with me, and for bringing me here tonight. It was truly a lovely experience.”

His Fox smiled ever so gently at him; He could feel the softness of their gaze as he straightened out.

As they were about to respond someone called out to them, catching their attention, though Baxter couldn’t make out what it was. With a disappointed look, they turned back to Baxter, their look having changed to a sad one, almost apologetic. Baxter could gather easily what that meant and so, made his excuses,

“It seems that I have now overstayed my welcome. Thank you once again for your kindness.”

As he turned to leave, he could see his Fox try to reach out to him, but stopped themselves before it was too obvious for anyone else to notice. But he did, and that mattered more than he cared to admit for some reason.

He took a few steps, before turning back, his Fox watching him leave, he decided to leave on last parting comment, before disappearing from their lives,

“Oh, by the by, you have nice legs.”

As a red flush appeared on their cheeks, Baxter flashed a toothy grin at them before he disappeared into the crowd, feeling warm and accomplished in his adventure of the day. He hoped to remember this night, and his Fox for many years to come; After all, magical moments like these do not come often, and Baxter did not consider himself as someone to be gifted a moment like this again in the future.

#baxtermcweek #BaxterMCWeek #Baxter MC Week #Foxster #August Black #Baxter Ward #olba #our life beginnings and always #our life #olba baxter #olba mc #our life: beginnings & always #baxter x mc #our life baxter #our life beginnings & always #meow fic!

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underratedandoverit · 1 year ago

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You Wanna Wish Away Your Sins (3/3)

After losing to Best Friends at Arcade Anarchy, Kip undergoes shoulder surgery. One person reaching out to him afterwards sends Kip spiraling, turning all the pain and suffering in him into… Flowers? Flowers growing in his lungs?

Kip Sabian/Chuck Taylor. Hanahaki disease. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Emotional hurt/comfort. One-sided attraction. Also tagged this from now on with manipulative Kip.

Marked Mature on AO3 for general content. Warnings for mentions of hospitals, surgery, medical stuff. Described feelings for choking and vomiting.

Other characters on-screen include Penelope Ford, Orange Cassidy. Rest of Best Friends are mentioned. Background ship of Penelope/Kris is heavily implied, but never specifically shown.

part 1 || part 2

On AO3

Finishing this took way longer than I intended. Oops. Mental illness and whatever be damned yada yada. But it's over now. And I am content. It's a whole fic and ended just as I wanted and had planned, surprisingly no surprises during writing lol. I hope it makes sense, there's a little bit there that doesn't get explained, but I have convinced myself that people can put the pieces together considering the mental state Kip is in and how the hanahaki disease works so. Yeah.

If you have read this far, thank you so much, I really appreciate you and your patience if you have waited for this to finish since I originally posted in early September. I see all the kudos and subs attached, they mean the world to me. Would love to hear your thoughts of this now that it's over, as there was a lot of time (obviously lol) and love put into this, so it would mean a lot ;; But I appreciate you all so much either way, thank you for sticking by and reading!! 💜💜

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate @ss-trashboat

----------------------

Kip tried to keep his eyes on the television, but he wasn’t registering anything he saw on the screen. Even if he was technically interested in watching the game that was being played, Kip would have much rather been looking at something else. Or someone else. That someone being the man sitting on the couch next to him, being much more into the activity of playing a video game that he was partaking in that Kip was.

While he was glad that Chuck was coming over far more often these days, at the same time it did grind Kip’s mind that they had fallen into this false routine of a casual friendship. Chuck would appear on his doorstep, bring a movie or a game with him for them to busy themselves with that day, maybe some snacks and energy drinks, and the rest of the day they would just hang out, consume the media of the day, and that would be it.

Same talking points every single day. Sitting in the silently designated spots on the couch just far enough from one another that even by accident their hands wouldn’t brush against each other unless they were passing the food and drinks around. Eye contact was brief, almost uncomfortably so if it managed to exist in the first place, and only when one got up from the couch and asked if the other needed something or something similarly surprising happened. Maybe a laugh could gather a quick glance, maybe a sneeze, a cough. And even then it was more often Chuck doing that to Kip, while Kip was trying to steal looks into his direction any chance he could, hoping Chuck would catch a hint.

It had been days, weeks even, maybe. How many, Kip had lost a count somewhere after the first few days, partially because of the pain he was going through, partially because he still found the whole situation so absurd. But the thing he knew for sure, was that it had been too many for comfort.

Every time Kip watched Chuck walk out the door of his house again at the end of the day, his breathing became a little bit tighter, the stabbing pain in his chest more prominent, the sleep during that following night a little shorter.

He was so tired of it all, and with every day that passed him by, it was pushing Kip closer to the realization that he finally had to do something about things. Before the pain was too paralyzing, before the thoughts became too much. Before he just couldn’t do anything about it anymore, before it was all too late.

“…Hey? Kip?”

The Brit blinked blankly a few times, finally registering the voice calling out to him after the words had been repeated a few times. His eyes slowly dragged away from the television screen, facing the brunet sitting on the couch next to him, Chuck looking at him with worry and concern. It was almost adorable to Kip how his brows furrowed and eyes darted around his facial features in clear worry. Almost.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

Chuck sighed, Kip trying to offer him an apologetic smile as he watched Chuck running a hand through his hair, eyes turning away from the other man again as he shook his head a little. Kip had been too deep in his own head, with his own thoughts to notice Chuck had even tried to talk to him, the guilt almost immediately gnawing on him at the mere thought. He was supposed to try to pay attention to him, to try to make Chuck realize the situation, how close they were, to understand his feelings, to close the gap, to --

“I just wanted to know if you were hungry. We could order something in, maybe. If you’d like.”

For once Kip was thankful that Chuck wasn’t looking straight at him, his cheeks flushing red for a brief moment as he registered the words. Ordering food? Together? At his place, like this, out of the blue? For the first time?

It almost sounded like a date night proposal in Kip’s ears.

He quickly shook the thought from his head, turning away from Chuck to make sure he didn’t even by accident catch a glimpse of the blush decorating his face, desperately trying to not have the words caught in his throat, only partially succeeding.

“Ye-yeah that would be great.”

Chuck was so sincere about this question, just like he always was about everything, he was probably just hungry himself, and Kip was overthinking it all. Once again. But also, what if…

“Great. What would you like to eat?” Chuck’s words cut Kip’s thought process off again, his eyes slowly returning to the other man, watching Chuck pull his phone out of his pocket, eyes landing onto it, seemingly to avoid eye contact with Kip, who just shrugged a little. “I don’t know. Whatever sounds good.”

Chuck’s brows furrowed, suddenly looking back at Kip, making the Brit jump a little. This wasn’t the kind of reaction Kip had expected to his words, swallowing a little surprise lump in his throat as all of a sudden he was very unsure again where this was going. He hated nothing more than the unpredictable nature of their relationship, not being able to read Chuck at moments like this, mostly due to his own emotions and thoughts clouding his judgment and understanding of what the situation called for from him.

“…Okay, I’m going to be fully honest with you.”

The suddenly rather serious tone of Chuck’s voice made Kip’s eyes widen a little, he could feel his whole body tensing up at the sudden shift. Chuck offered him a small smile, most likely in hopes of trying to calm down Kip’s very obviously surprised demeanor, but seeing that smile just made Kip’s whole mind skip another beat instead.

“I’ve been worried about you recently. I actually talked with Penelope yesterday after I left, and she feels much the same way as I do.”

Chuck? Worried? About him? Chuck? Kip’s head was spinning, but he just nodded his head, not even acknowledging the fact that Chuck was also talking about Penelope being involved in this. All Kip cared about was that Chuck was thinking about him, outside of this room, outside of this couch, when he wasn’t around.

Chuck was thinking, and talking, about him.

“You’ve been… Seemingly getting worse each day I see you. You lack sleep, you lack food, you lack energy. I understand you are in a lot of pain with the shoulder and all, but you need to take care of yourself, Kip. Mine and Penelope’s help will only get you so far.”

Kip just looked at him quietly, trying to process the statement in his head, but all his thoughts retracted back to the overall realization that Chuck was worried about him. Thinking about him. That Chuck at least seemed to care more than he led on directly to him, at least before this very moment at hand.

“If there’s something wrong that you need help with, other than what we have been providing so far, you shouldn’t be afraid to ask, you know?”

Kip felt his head nodding itself, despite not approving of the movement in his mind. He was running on a practiced autopilot, still afraid that one casual movement might fuck all this up for him, not being the kind of response that Chuck wanted. This seemed to be enough for the brunet for now though as Chuck nodded back at him, eyes slowly returning to the phone in his hand. Right, he was ordering food. Right.

“So, again: what do you want to eat today? You can get anything you want, as long as it makes you eat. We just want to make sure you take care of yourself.”

At the same time it was endearing that Chuck was doing this for him, but Kip also knew he had to put a stop to this, all of it. While yes his current and constantly worsening condition was making him neglect his own basic needs, both which directly as a result affected his appetite and energy levels, Kip knew that trying to eat some proper food one day wasn’t the answer to his problems. Above all else, his condition was making it not only difficult to breathe, but the pain in his chest and particularly in his lungs made eating at this point a near impossible task.

As the silence from the Brit continued, Chuck glanced towards him, spotting Kip just looking back at him. Whether he was deep in thought or just staring, Chuck wasn’t quite sure.

“Kip?”

“I’m not hungry.”

At least it wasn’t a lie in a sense. Chuck raised a brow at him, slowly lowering the hand holding his phone onto his lap, eyes narrowing a little. Chuck’s eyes lingered on him just a little bit too long, forcing Kip to look away, back towards the television with the frozen game pause screen on it.

“You need to eat something.”

“Food can’t fix this.”

Kip could feel the confusion radiating from Chuck’s face, probably his entire being at this point, but he just couldn’t look back at him. It was so much easier for Kip to process his thoughts if he wasn’t looking at what he was sure was a very worried expression on the brunet sitting on the couch a few feet away from him.

He heard Chuck sigh. Not a very good sign.

“If you eat something, you get energy. You feel better. I shouldn’t need to explain all this to you. Kip, please --”

“This isn’t about food.”

Chuck fell silent as Kip cut him off, probably a bit more aggressively than necessary, but he was tired of this. All of this. Both his inability to do anything about the situation even though he desperately, so very desperately needed it, and the way they both seemed to just dance around the topic and the issues at hand. To Kip, Chuck offering to order him food was nothing but a detour that he couldn’t afford to wait to take to where he eventually needed to be. Kip had suffered long enough, mostly due to his own faults, yes, but Chuck jumping in to push his buttons like this, while a step in the right direction, wasn’t a fast enough track to where they needed to be.

Where Kip needed to be if he wanted to make it through all of this, it seemed like.

“…Are you mad at me?”

Kip’s eyes narrowed a little, but he still didn’t turn to look towards Chuck. All he heard was another quiet sigh.

“I don’t know how many times I can apologize for what happened. You know it was an accident. I’m sorry --”

“I don’t want you to apologize. I don’t care about that.”

If something, it was supposed to be Kip who apologized for everything, and he knew that painfully well.

“Then what is it?”

Kip swallowed thickly, being absolutely certain that Chuck could not only see it but also hear him do it. Kip’s eyes slowly dragged back to him, watching the confusion all over the brunet’s face. If the situation wasn’t so dire and heavy, Kip would have found the look on him endearing. Right now though, seeing Chuck not put the pieces together so easily, filled him with dread instead, along with the knowledge that Kip knew exactly what he needed to do next and the can of worms that he needed to open if he ever wanted to have a shot at things getting better again.

“I need…” Kip stopped, the confusion on Chuck’s face slowly melting into a more expecting look. Both of them were still clearly hesitant, Chuck not knowing what to expect out of him and Kip not being so sure how he was going to phrase this so it made even some sort of sense.

Just say it.

“I… I need you to kiss me.”

The silence that fell into the room felt like it was knocking all the remaining air out of Kip. The longer he looked at Chuck and the unreadable look lingering on his face after the words slipped out of Kip’s mouth, the worse he felt about everything. For once he was being honest about this entire situation and what he wanted out of it, and yet it felt like a worse mistake than anything he had lied to Chuck about so far.

He wanted this. He needed this. This was the trigger Kip had been so afraid to pull for so long now, but he knew that if he didn’t finally say those words, no matter the reaction, it would have terrible consequences for him. He was already suffering, the roots of his problem crawling deeper into his lungs every single day he put it off without even trying to make anything out of it. Kip was tired of it, he was suffering immensely because of it, he just needed to do something. Anything.

After what felt like forever of Chuck just staring at him, Kip was snapped out of his thoughts as Chuck took in a sharp breath, the only way Kip was able to describe his expression being polite confusion.

“You, uh… You what?”

Not sure if Chuck was just making sure or if he really hadn’t understood the statement, Kip bit his lower lip as he turned away from the other man. He inhaled slowly, preparing himself to say those words again. Kip did it once, he could do it again. It was a necessary step forward.

“I-I need. To kiss you. You to kiss me. So-something like that.”

As Chuck didn’t reply for a while, Kip stole a quick glance towards him, trying to gather an overview of the situation. Much to his surprise, Chuck looked like he was in deep thought for a second, as if he was pondering over the request. At least he wasn’t outright denying it from Kip, which in turn as he realized it, made his heart jump back into his throat.

The burning as Kip nervously waited for an answer was worse than the thorns poking inside of his lungs at the moment.

“Would that help? Make you feel better?”

Kip nodded almost instantly, the motion almost frantic, something he couldn’t control. Still clearly in his thoughts, Chuck nodded as well.

“I mean,” he muttered, a hand slowly reaching closer to Kip, the Brit’s focus turning on it with slightly widening eyes, “If… If it helps. I guess.”

Kip watched his hand stopping to hover close to him, slowly his own hand reaching for it. He could feel Chuck’s fingers gently wrapping around his hand, giving it a little tuck, an invitation to come closer. Kip followed suit, shifting over on the couch to slowly make his way to sit down right next to Chuck. For the first time since they had started doing this, for the first time since Chuck had started to spend the days over to keep him company. There had always been a cold, untouched gap between the two of them on the couch, but this was the first time it had been broken, filled, fixed.

And all it took was a small request that Kip should have been able to do in the first place, but it took him weeks and actual concern from Chuck to get to this point.

But there he was now, Chuck still gently holding his hand, running this thumb over his knuckles. A soft, still kind of unsure smile crossing his lips as he was looking Kip straight in the eyes. Chuck clearly wasn’t budging back on this, honestly much to Kip’s surprise, as his free hand slowly crept up to the Brit’s face, palm pressing against his cheek. Chuck’s hand was surprisingly cold against his flushed skin.

“…You sure?”

It was almost as if Chuck was asking that from himself more than Kip, but he pushed the thought aside, just nodding his head again. Without another word, Chuck leaned closer, finally closing the gap that had been antagonizing Kip these past few weeks without remorse, locking their lips together.

The kiss was awkward and hesitant at first, but slowly it felt more natural as they both seemed to relax into it. Soft and homey, but Kip could taste his own desperation in it despite all of it. He knew how badly he not only wanted, but needed this. While he could have joked that it was the matter of life and death, to him it was actually no joke, but merely the cruel reality he barely understood himself at all. Feeling Chuck’s lips finally against his, after the excruciatingly long amount of time of craving and needing nothing more than to taste him so desperately he was suffering from the withdrawals more and more every day, Kip’s mind went blank. He could feel Chuck close, hear his breathing, slowly allowing himself to enjoy it, running a thumb over Kip’s cheek.

Kip had been waiting for this moment for so long, craving for this so badly, that he needed more now that he finally had it, pushing the boundaries first as he found himself without a single coherent thought giving a small bite on Chuck’s lower lip, a silent, desperate request for a deeper kiss. A deeper meaning.

A request that was granted to him, but was also almost immediately and far too fast ripped away from him as Chuck suddenly jolted away, as if he had suddenly in the midst of all of this realized what he was doing and thought better of it.

Eyes opening as Kip felt the hand disappear from his face, he leaned slightly back, watching in emotions swimming in disappointment and confusion as Chuck’s eyes were suddenly on his phone again, the piece of tech buzzing on his lap, suddenly demanding his attention. Almost as if it was mocking Kip and how close he had finally gotten.

“So-sorry, I have to take this.”

Kip just nodded, feeling the body heat of the other man disappearing from around him as Chuck’s hand left his, grabbing a hold of the phone before he stood up, answering the sudden call. He could still salvage this, it wasn’t all lost. Chuck hadn’t denied him this, by the way he was acting it was obvious to Kip that this wasn’t just all in his head. Maybe the kiss had been brief, but there was compassion behind it, he was very gentle about it, there --

“What do you mean that was today?”

Kip’s eyes slowly traveled up to Chuck, watching the brunet run a hand over his face as he sighed. “Yeah I know, I know you need me there for that, just… I was kinda in the middle of something…”

The silence that followed that statement and the way Chuck couldn’t look back at Kip made a familiar lump climb its way back in his throat. Kip tried to cough it out quietly, not to attract attention to himself, just watching as Chuck stepped a little bit further away from him.

“I can be there in twenty minutes, I guess. …Alright, I’ll see you then.”

As he hung up the call, Chuck didn’t even need to say anything. He was sure Kip had heard most of it, and the apologetic eyes and the small smile he offered to him as he finally turned back towards the Brit really didn’t help the case.

“Sorry, I completely forgot we had a photoshoot to do today, I… I gotta go.”

Kip nodded his head, but remained silent as he stood up from the couch. At least this was a start, they were going somewhere. He had put at least part of his desires out there, for Chuck to reach out and react to, if nothing else. This was a beginning, hopefully for the better. Kip wasn’t sure how fast he was supposed to be feeling the effects of his love and affections being returned to him, but so far he was blaming the sick feeling in his throat on the sudden change of pace in the room rather than Chuck not returning his feelings like before.

Maybe he had read all of this wrong. Maybe the sickness had caught up with him just because he didn’t know this was mutual. That had to be it, right?

Kip walked him to the door, Chuck turning back to him again as he rested his hand on the door handle.

“Look, I’m really sorry I have to go, I just completely forgot about this. You know, with having to worry about you and all.”

Kip could feel a smile tucking the corner of his lips, allowing at least a part of it to show. As sad as he was having to watch Chuck walk away yet again without a resolution to this whole problem, at least there was hope. Chuck smiled back at him, leaning closer to press a quick little peck on Kip’s lips, catching the Brit off guard, leaving him looking back at him with wide eyes as Chuck opened the door, stepping outside.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow, alright?”

Kip could only nod before Chuck closed the door, leaving him standing there, heart racing and beating loudly between his ears. Kip leaned against the closed door, inhaling deeply before he sighed, the content smile on his lips only wiped away as he coughed softly, eyes shooting open to witness the handful of purple tinted rose petals he let out of his mouth.

No.

Chuck Taylor still didn’t love him.

----------------------------------------

“…Are you sure it’s him?”

Cassidy shrugged his shoulders a little. “I mean, who else could it be? Besides, he has photos of himself that he signs and hands out and a big board on the table with the name ‘Kip Sabian’ on it, so…”

Chuck sighed, running a hand over his face before rolling his eyes. “You could have led with that information, you know.”

Cassidy didn’t reply back to him, just observed the brunet on the couch through his sunglasses. “I thought you would have known. Aren’t you two friends or something?”

Chuck avoided looking directly back at him, trying to make it seem like the question didn’t sting. He hadn’t seen Kip since that day, he never opened the door when Chuck came over the following day or answered any of his calls or texts since. He had been living in complete darkness over what had actually happened with Kip, even Penelope refused to tell him anything apart from a general ‘he’s fine’ every time Chuck asked her something.

“I told you, that was months ago.”

Cassidy just nodded, stopping to observe Chuck as the other man just tried to focus back on lacing his boots. After a long, lingering silence the blond broke it as he spoke up again.

“Do you want to go see him?”

Chuck stopped, eyes slowly dragging up to Cassidy again. He seemed sincere in that question, and if Chuck was being honest, that had been the first thought in his mind since Cassidy had waltzed into the locker room with the news that Kip had been sighted inside the building. The premise seemed rather odd to him, but at the same time, he wouldn’t have put something like that past Kip. A silent man with a suit and a cardboard box on his head, doing a signing that hadn’t been advertised for anyone beforehand. Sounded like it was just down Kip’s alley, in some really weird way, to him.

“Is he still there?”

“Probably,” Cassidy shrugged again. “He seemed to be just setting up when we went into the cafeteria like twenty minutes ago. I doubt he has left yet.”

While he wasn’t quite sure how to take any of it, let alone how Kip was going to take it if he showed up, Chuck nodded a little, still a bit hesitant. Cassidy mirrored the movement, before nodding his head towards the locker room door, asking Chuck to follow him. Not that he didn’t know where the cafeteria was in the building, they had walked past it when they had entered earlier, but maybe his hesitance was on the surface enough that Cassidy thought taking the lead was going to make him regret this less. Make it easier for him.

Chuck followed Cassidy outside, tracking through the hallways for a moment before they arrived at their destination. It was extremely easy to spot the individual not belonging into the group of people in the big, bright, well-lit room, the man standing in the middle of it all by a large table messed up with multiple scattered photos around it, hands behind his suited back as he was observing the room through the eye holes poked on a box over his head.

Chuck swallowed thickly. It didn’t matter if he didn’t see his face, all that was enough for him to recognize him immediately, no matter how many months it had been since or how much things had changed between now and then.

He was so focused on reading the words on the front of the box that Chuck didn’t notice the eyes inside of it land on him. The distance made it a bit harder, sure, but the lights were bright enough and the dark circles surrounding the eyes made them pop for Cassidy to notice the stare at first, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“Hey,” he muttered, carefully elbowing Chuck to the side to get his attention. “He sees you. I think you should at least go say hello.”

Blinking himself back to the situation, Chuck glanced at Cassidy on his side, the blond just shrugging at him a little. Maybe Chuck’s nervousness was obvious, maybe Cassidy quickly put two and two together from what Chuck had told him before about how their last meeting had ended, but he only sighed, once again leading the way towards the man in a suit and the box, Kip’s eyes never leaving Chuck as they approached. Chuck on the other hand tried to look at everything except him, until he was stopped to stand right in front of the other man he hadn’t seen in months until now.

Through the eye holes of the box Chuck could see his vacant stare just blankly staring back at him, saying it all without saying anything at the same time. Kip looked at him briefly, before providing a photo from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, pulling a marker seemingly out of nowhere along with it. He scribbled something quickly on the photo, handing it to Cassidy, and walked away without looking back or acknowledging either of them further.

Cassidy looked at the photo for a moment before handing it over to Chuck. It was an old promo picture of Kip, in his Superbad gear, with his face crossed over with a red marker and some messy text scribbled next to him.

‘Time changes us all. Embrace the change.’

#setting: hanahaki #fic #character: kip sabian #character: chuck taylor #character: orange cassidy #ship: chuckkip #fic: you wanna wish away your sins #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction

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tears0fsatan · 1 year ago

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♰ ・ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇!

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... dead dove do not eat, gn!reader, spoilers for lesson 35 whoops, brief stalking mention, scent kink, established relationship, obsession, body horror, unhealthy attachment to a corpse

:¨·.·¨ ♥︎ a.n... I'M FINALLY WRITING SOMETJIMG FOR MY NUMBER ONE BABYGIRL CAN I GET A WAHOOO??!???!! BONUS BECAUSE SHES WEIRD!! AND A LITTLE UNSETTLING!!! (this turned out sadder and more romantic than i thought lol oops) srry that this is so latebtw i've been doing uh teenager stuff lol <3

#﹏𖣠ㅤHEART SHAPED HICKIES MASTERLISTㅤ. . . ㅤ !! ( ☠️ )

from the very moment she had caught a whiff of your scent in her lair, thirteen was hooked. it didn't take a genius or a powerful existence to sniff out the stench of other living beings that had trespassed her den. amongst the familiar smell of demons and that pesky sorcerer, yours had stuck out like a sore thumb, so much so that all thoughts regarding your illegal trespassing flew out her mind.

perhaps it was because she was a reaper, but she could practically taste the life that seeped into your scent. for someone who was neither dead nor alive, hell was it addictive.

she just had to seek you out, there was no way someone brimming with so much life could escape her grasp now that she had her sights on you. whenever she wasn't busy watching the life candles or coming up with new fun trap ideas, she couldn't resist the temptation to follow and watch your every move. after all, when would another human who smelt so good and wasn't a sham of a sorcerer come down to devildom and pique her interest like you did? she needed to have you, needed to trap you somewhere where only she could see you, where only she could be with you.

there were nights she found herself craving you and your scent, despite her plan still in the works. there moments where the thought of leaving all her work behind, to sneak in your room and take you away with her and live out the rest of your lives together (or more so, your life..). an itch to steal the clothing she saw you wore often made her feel restless, but she was nothing if not patient and told herself she'd wait until she was closer to you.

eventually, the two of you were bound to run into one another at RAD, but that moment didn't come nearly soon enough. so, the reaper took matters into her own hands. she waited for the moment you weren't surrounded by those clingy demons to make her move, making it seem as though it was completely coincidental and not carefully thought out on her part. gosh, you were so much cuter in person, she had fantasised the moment she could finally talk to you dozens of times and you went beyond all her expectations.

this was perfect; without realising, you were slowly playing into her trap. the reaper made sure to play up a facade, one that would keep you curious about her and have you coming back to find out more. she played the role of a trickster until you tied the strings of your heart around her marionette controller all on your own accord, swept away by the sweet words and barrage of attention from such a pretty, powerful being. she had you in the palm of her hand and you were more than alright with it.

there was an ornate fear that constricted thirteens heart, or at least a reaper's equivalent of one, something she feared for more than anything else in all three realms. as a reaper, she was far too aware of how short human lifespans were and how much shorter it would be around her and it terrified her. now that she had you in her grasp, she couldn't afford to lose you. there were unspoken lengths she was willing to go in order to keep you next to her, even if it meant breaking the laws of the three realms.

while humans were satisfied with a life together until death parted them, for a reaper, even death wouldn't be enough to part ways. being surrounded by death, the very being that watched over every human from the second their flame lit to the moment their light blew out, it was hard to form an attachment when such lives were fickle and could go out at any given moment. thirteen knew that, she knew that one gust of wind could easily put an end to you and everything you had lived for and so she wanted to cherish what short time she had left with you.

the day you died, many souls died with you. the reaper lost all control and threw a rage, at the other living beings who wouldn't understand her pain and at the world for making her kind so detrimental to human life. it was unfair, unfair how you had just started out your life and now you were gone, unable to spend many more of your firsts with thirteen. she didn't even have the chance to show you just how much she loved you.

not a day went by where thirteen didn't take care of your body, washing your body with extra care and dressing you in your favourite clothes, keeping your appearance the same as it was the day you died. even as your flesh began to turn all sorts of hues, she still thought you looked as beautiful as the day she lost you.

your body, now lifeless and cold, a mere shell of the human you once were, could no longer support the weight of your head and slumped forward onto thirteen's shoulder whenever she would pick you up. the reaper held onto every inch of your being left, afraid that if she let even a hair shed, your entire existence would cease to exist, as if you had never been here in the first place.

your eyes were always something she adored, something that left her speechless and the first time she got to see them up close and in person, she was left in awe. by now, she's stared at you long enough to determine that yes, stars do swim in your eyes, and never missed the opportunity to go stargazing. even after your eyes became blurry after your death, they never lost that sparkle that she fell in love with in the first place.

how could she resist pulling you into her arms and dance along to inaudible music when you looked so beautiful? even though your skin was icy to the touch and your joints refused to move from the rigor mortis, she still enjoyed holding you close and swaying to an unknown rhythm. especially on nights when the moonlight would peer into her lair and cast a shadow on your features that just ever so slightly make you appear alive, she would dance until the sun took the moons place and brought her back to reality.

nevertheless, until the moment she reaped her last soul, she would continue to love you and keep you by her side, no matter the cost.

#READ TWS #៹ ࣪˖. 🎧 light mode﹒☆#៹ ࣪˖. 🎧 special﹒🂾#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me x reader #obey me x male reader #obey me x gn reader #obey me x you #obey me thirteen #thirteen #thirteen x you #thirteen x reader #thirteen x male reader #thirteen x gn reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #dead dove do not eat

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eyedove · 1 year ago

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alright whats up fuckers get timelined.

you want your deep taagnus fankid lore, this might be the only spot ya get it for a while. also included: a little on lup's first kid, a LOT on taako having a bad time in general, some relationship details btwn taako and magnus past and present, casey character development to follow it up, and then a little bit on the twins. the, like, little twins, i mean. the ones that taako and magnus have.

warnings for taako’s general, like, everything: identity crisis, his issues socializing, loneliness, depression, gender dysphoria (weirdly enough, not pregnancy related), his experience with chronic pain, and later being diagnosed with a connective tissue disorder, which in itself is not a trigger warning but moreso his dealing with it is not particularly healthy and could be sort of self-harm-y in a way. and for magnus: his RSD is mentioned, his self-worth issues are alluded to, mentions of past self harm, he gets very emotional about family planning in regards to past relationships, his death is eventually mentioned but isn’t part of the timeline nor is it gone in depth on.

in general they’re also just… taako and magnus. they’re kind of shitty guys and kind of immature and kind of fucked up. they’re good to their kids, they’re just still, y’know. taako and magnus.

i can not stress enough, pregnancy and issues relating to this. difficulties conceiving and postpartum depression are IN. HERE. everything turns out and everyone involved is perfectly fine, it just takes some time to get there and it’s a rough road, but they ultimately end up doing it twice and they’re both pretty firmly in the camp of it being worth it.

anything else that needs to be mentioned please let me know holy shit and i’ll exercise my best judgment, cus i know some of it might be wild to read, but i want to get triggers down for the most part. stuff that’s not triggering, like… oops, sorry, but. it’s taagnus mpreg what do you WANT FROM ME. if i listed everything that people might not like it would just be another 6k words.

basics:

lup’s first kid, missy, is about 5 years older than casey, who was carried by taako, and is about 3½ years older than elodie, who’s a few minutes older than rian, both of which were carried by magnus.

tl;dr coming soon. and by tl;dr i mean a shorter version that’s been picked through and had all of the bullshit unnecessary garbage taken out. :)

timeline:

- after story & song magnus and taako do not talk for like a year. it’s rough. they correspond a little, magnus sends him funny good things he finds like fuckin. silly chainmail messages and pictures of stuff he thinks taako might like, but he’s trying his best not to overstep any boundaries. taako has not actually established these boundaries. magnus has just sort of assumed them. unfortunately, taako is not a guy who goes out of his way to go to magnus’ place of residence and yell at him.

- but he doesn’t keep it up forever. he does go fucking find magnus. and he does go yell at him. and magnus does kind of have a fit about it. but it’s fine. it’s taako, and he also knows that getting down here was probably. a hell of a lot. and he does appreciate it.

- they immediately click though. because of course they do. and a year and change is a long time for them to go without each other while also actively knowing that they’ve gone without each other. it’s weird. taako one minute is living in lup’s empty ass house because she’s at work and kravitz is at work and he hates everyone who has any time to spend with him, and then the next, he and magnus are picking out like. the color of the accent wall in the livingroom. what kind of flooring should be in the hallways. (magnus wants hardwood, taako refuses to go with anything except shag. carpeting.)

- it’s sort of nice! taako stays a homebody but he’s not completely disconnected. weirdly enough, he sees more of lup. and kravitz. and barry and merle and davenport and everyone. mostly because he doesn’t avoid outings as much. and because he starts going to parties. and goes fishing with davenport. and gets all of his and magnus’ weed from merle that he felt too fucking sick to sit home alone and smoke himself. magnus still has like, a business to run. and taako kind of does, too, sort of, even though he’s been really fucking that up recently and taking a huge backseat on accident.

- anyway, they settle. taako’s doing okay. magnus is doing okay. they had already decided years and years and years ago they weren’t gonna get married and EXTRA aren’t gonna now. magnus doesn’t want to get married again. taako hates it as a concept. it’s complicated. but they’re together. it’s semi-open. taako occasionally sleeps with other people. rarely. listen, he barely goes out, let alone fucks around, and magnus knows it.

- lup has missy like 2 yrs after taako moves out. which does mean that she got pregnant only like a year after he left (elven gestation w/ their slow ass metabolisms), which he’s a little peeved about, but whatever, he gets it. he’s happy for her. he’s not as absolutely gutted as he thought he’d be if it ever happened. is he numb? he can't tell.

- turns out he's… not? maybe? yes, taako being dissociated and numb usually results in being a little more blase about stuff than hed normally be, but he feels. in it. he has an attachment that he's used to having, because it's lup, and it feels almost natural again. almost? there is no way he's picking this feeling apart. they will remain complicated forever because a child is definitely not something that he has to confront (all lies he knows he knows better.)

- weird concept: so how about confront it?

- taako is weirded out by this Thing. lup’s proud of it, though, and magnus is immediately and irreparably damaged by holding this baby, taako can see it in his stupid face, the way he just fucking. grins. and tears up and holds this thing so gently. lup is looking at taako like do not let this guy squish my baby, i’ll kill you, and taako’s just thinking the whole time, yeah, i get it, but like. fucking look at him.

- anyway rightfully she doesn’t let magnus hold the thing for more than like ten minutes before she wants it back but it’s fine - they all relax, taako worries about something else for a change, gets his heart ripped out of his body still beating by this thing crying, everything’s good.

- and now he’s obsessed. partly just with missy, lup’s baby, because she’s hilarious and she’s cute, and she literally just keeps getting FUCKING cuter, but partly with the idea of. baby. like. he could have one of those. he’s got everything for it. like, a house, and a boyfriend, and… financial stability. emotional stability? yeah, man! like, he’s super getting there, isn’t he?!

- he and magnus talk one night. taakos literally sat on his chest over the top of him and starts asking him abt this fucking coffee table lup bought when she first moved into her house, and magnus is like oh yeah, i like that thing, it’s really cool, i kinda wanna make one just like it, but it feels like it’d be copying, at this point. and taako’s like holy shit EXACTLY. exactly correct. but what if we did anyway. just, like, in our own. way. y’know? it’d be different if we did it. we could handle it. we have space for it. if we both worked on it maybe we could like. take care of it. sides, it’d be nice to just. have more shit that has some of you. in it. that will last a long time. so i don’t have to like, go out and replace it later, and i… know that it’s from you, and everything, y’know.

- anyway they keep having this conversation. like, every day, taako brings this up. talks about hey, listen, i know that this is uncharacteristic. you gotta take me seriously here, though. i’m so serious. and magnus is like… serious about… buying a coffee table? and taako’s like NO. i mean maybe, if the conversation must go in that. direction. later, but we’re fucking. capable, are we not?? of doing it ourselves? or we should at least find out?

- eventually magnus asks him, hey, are we… talking about… the kind of coffee table. that you and me, have, uh, tried to make. before? and taako goes LOL, tried?! no. we’ve never had the time or resources to get it like, anywhere near a real project. pal, have we maybe accidentally started on it, and then had that shit totally made useless like every other bodily state ever over and over for ninety nine years? i genuinely dunno man, if we have, that’s between our respective guts, the coffee table, and god only. and magnus just goes ohh. so we are definitely talking about the same thing. okay. oh wow.

- they decide they want one! theyll fucking. build a damn. coffee table. okay.

- and so they start! and they work on it! and they fucking! try! they do eventually get to the point where they can say aloud that they’re trying for a baby. it takes an embarrassingly long time. they are not known for their healthy communication. but taako forces it out into the light eventually. he's okay with being silly about it on a basic level but listen, someone has to rein magnus in a little bit on that. a little. (magnus actually hadn't expected taako to go for it, calling what they're doing having kids, so it's a huge surprise and an extremely positive one, because as much as he's stalwart in the idea of honoring the concept, he also kinda gets it.)

- they don't tell people at first. this is entirely because they KNOW people will be weird about it. but the moment he needs someone to complain to he tells lup and then it quickly gets around elsewhere - which. fairly, most people are kind of skeptical. it’s taako. taako? child? lup, though, kinda knows. she still has early adulthood memories of conversations complaining about the world and guys devolving into if i ever have kids... and how early on taako did show interest. how it kind of became a thing he stopped talking about over the decades. she believes him. and her believing him makes it easier for everyone else to kind of fall into place about it.

- and taako has a few freakouts. a couple total meltdowns. but they got it. they get it, after almost two years. they get it down, and both of them flip their absolute FUCKING lids but taako way moreso than magnus was expecting in any way shape or form. yeah, it was taakos idea. yeah, its taako whos carrying, so hes probably way excited about it. he just didnt expect such an explosive reaction out of him. given that he's, y'know. taako.

- literally every problem taakos ever had becomes an issue. his bullshit tolerance is now: none. his energy level is now: none. his heat tolerance is now: none. his blood pressure is now: none. his ability to cook and feed himself is now: uhh, very little. which that second thing is not super abnormal, but the first one kinda sucks more than usual. this also peaks right in the middle of summer. hes convinced hes dying. (hes not. they absolutely make sure hes not.)

- he DOES like having a good excuse to make everyone else do everything for him. not a huge fan of the genuine doting, but having someone on call for a bucket any time any where is a power he didnt know he wanted. he doesnt use it genuinely very often, but magnus is GREAT at coming when called, and thats funny.

- they pointedly do not know the sex. it is partly performative. it is partly because taako is in the THICK of a gender crisis (had been before he got pregnant even, it hasn't gotten particularly worse, but it's still there) and if someone in his life found out and started prescribing shit even on accident or coincidentally based on the thing's genitalia he'd fucking lose his shit, so they just don't know, they're not gonna know, it's not a big deal, leave him alone.

- taakos naturally a toe walker. not abnormal for elves from the two sunned plane. their feet are just built for it. he manages to maintain this for a little while. he's always fluctuated in weight, he's fine - but his balance does indeed get so bad, even with his tail, that he has to start walking on his whole foot so he doesn't lean forward.

- this makes him like four inches shorter than usual. this makes him like five inches shorter than magnus. this makes him SHORTER THAN LUP. and he fucking. despises it. he's still taller than magnus BARELY when he has his ears straight up but this is all he has, and those ears rarely stand up for any long amount of time without extreme effort. they’re HEAVY.

- it does make magnus hugs nice though. magnus won't bearhug him + break his back anymore for the time being, which he misses, but he gets to stuff his face into magnus' chest. which he likes. hes starting to think MAYBE. maybe after he has this baby he MIGHT occasionally get down on his heels just so he can do this. SOMETIMES. but only around select people. there are only a handful of chests hes cool with being smothered in. magnus definitely tops this list.

- it fucking HURTS his HEELS. fuck his ankles or whatever, his heels!!!! he's not used to putting any weight on them. theyre bruised and blistery and he hates it. magnus will now be carrying him forever. (he says this but ends up being the most hermited motherfucker of all time, worse than taako's normal, which is not good, but whatever. people like to come over to HIS HOME and BOTHER HIM, so he doesnt need to go to functions he can't drink or smoke at anyway).

- he is, however, feeling really fucking good about how fucking AWESOME he is, currently. like, one, everyone had to admit that he’s taking things super super well, and two, he’s being SO open right now. he’s being so chill. he’s being communicative, he’s being honest. he’s not being NICE because that’s just not on the table for taako, but he’s kind of enjoying having a good excuse to be a little more snuggly. a little more needy. sometimes. when he’s not so pissed off he could scream.

- magnus is a fucking. wreck. hes good! hes doing good! but hes crying ALL the TIME. and its PISSING taako off slowly more and more. he knows its just because hes worried or overwhelmed or whatever. who cares. its annoying. he is nice though. maybe the nicest hes ever been to taako. there are a significant number of people who are being nice to him, actually, which is hilarious, and also extremely frustrating. LUP. even lup wont fuck with him in the same way. he has to keep pressing her buttons harder and harder to get her to react. HOWEVER: one person is still ready to pick on him.

- lup's 5 y/o daughter. is RELENTLESS. and honest to god one of the most stable and delightful things throughout the whole pregnancy. this kid has only the vaguest idea of what's going down, is extremely nice, but also compromises NO asks. if she wants him to make her breakfast she WILL cry about it. if she wants to play with his hair, she'll figure out how to do it, even if shes gotta ambush him. great tenacity on this girl.

- they have casey, their first kid, spring-ish? early spring. they have her at home. it sounds like a great idea at the time, and it turns out perfectly fine, but there is the ego barrier of describing to people the story of your firstborn child being PLANNED on being delivered by a lich and the grim reaper along with the boyfriend and then ending up getting stagefright. this is good, you might think, this means grubby corpsehands aren't on your newly born child! and you would be correct, instead it's just magnus, who is crying MORE than the baby and taako combined and it's FUCKING annoying, and lup's not even there to make it funnier. it's fine. it's like, bonding. and shit.

- shes small. smaller than taako would have thought and also would have hoped, and shes bald, and her ears are fucked up somehow, they dont have anything, like, in them to move them around or whatever it seems like, but maybe she'll grow into that. maybe that's fine. not a whole lot of info out there currently on babies who are half alien elf half alien human. so yknow. as long as she's eating and breathing and warm and clean they're pretty happy.

- taako can not let this thing go. magnus occasionally gets to hold her or feed her, but for her first nine/ten days, taako has her almost exclusively and wont put her down. he started sleeping later into his pregnancy because it required less effort than meditating (altho it takes more time), but hes back to it now, so he can keep this baby, who he has still not named btw!, in his arms and remain alert enough to sleep with her.

- two weeks. three weeks. she's FINALLY getting a little bigger. MAYBE taako can manage to have people over to see her in person instead of just showing photos. maybe. the amount of people that technically know about this kid's existence even is a ridiculously low number. the amount of people in the public that knew he was having a kid is most, since he made a statement about it, but the kid herself was never, like. announced. he just doesn't. want to share. at all.

- gets rough. gets really rough. having lup and missy over nearly kills him. he cant even let his TWIN SISTER hold his baby. what the fuck is wrong with him? what is wrong with their relationship? why does he feel like it somehow makes him a better parent when it does not? why has he lost all control of what emotional stability he had? he'd been worried he wouldn't be attached enough to her, that he'd fuckin, abandon her or whatever, and it's so nice that that fear was unwarranted that he doesn't want to confront that he's overcorrecting.

- missy gets to hold casey before lup does. and taako feels bad about it, kinda. BUT: she didn't technically hold the baby on her own, taako just held her while missy put her arms under her as well, but still. then lup. this was a few visits in. casey is still not technically named yet, but taako knows already. kinda.

- she gets her name by two months. it's not elven, like he and lup had, but it's got the same basic rules, which is a compromise he and magnus come up with. once she gets old enough, if she wants something else, she fuckin' names herself. if she wants something else for like. gender purposes, they'll deal with that when that comes up. for now she's casey. burnsides? maybe.

- she stays FUCKING BALD. taako can not get over it. he has hair. magnus is COVERED in it. why's she bald? why's she SO BALD?

- magnus is audhd and taako is autistic. they know that she's gonna probably not necessarily follow the average infant timeline. this turns out to be extremely true. she's very quiet. she makes noises, but even as she gets into multiple years of exposure, she doesn't speak common or elvish, except repeating certain phrases she's heard often (some of her favorites are calling magnus mean names and 'i don't want to', because the former makes her parents laugh and the latter makes uncomfortable situations resolve a lot of the times it's used).

- she also doesn't walk. ok, she kinda walks, she gets up on her feet and uses walls and objects to walk alongside them, or walks slowly with a leg to hold onto. she's very particular and delicate about her foot placement, but still ends up with her ankles out. magnus thinks she might be rolling them? but she seems okay? they get that checked out, though. definitely. make sure she's not in pain or anything. she ends up with some braces for her ankles and heel, but she's still more than a little pigeon toed.

- casey is a shy little thing. very observant. she likes watching people do things. literally anything. she will sit and watch taako cook, she likes to watch the aquarium, she likes to watch people write and draw and cast spells, she likes making other people play with her toys so she can watch. she sleeps with taako and magnus more often than not, either being held by taako while he meditates or lying between them on the mattress once she gets a little older.

- missy ADORES her. missy is a little upset that she doesn't like dressing up and having her hair played with, but she loves casey's dark red hair, thinks shes super cute, loves her floppy ears, just adores her. this is, to her, her baby sister, and taako and lup do nothing to dissuade that. basically are sisters, right? who cares. they live right next to each other, and see each other almost every day, since taako does a lot of watching them during the day now, which… admittedly, he's still working on, but he's got like 8 years of experience by now, three of those with his own baby, so he's. like, getting it. he's understanding it.

- this is around the time taako starts hiring out losers to watch the children (or child, sometimes just casey). ie he makes angus do it when possible, or alum he's still pals with from some of the first years of the school's establishing, or other family friends who are around. merle's off limits. as is she who shall not be MENTIONED in his household.

- with a tiny bit of time alone magnus and taako find out that … they want another kid. taako brings it up. another baby. oops.

- again, taako brings it up, but magnus is fully on board. except… hold on not really: shit was ridiculously rough on taako specifically, and he’s really, really not excited to have taako go thru it again. which is fair. definitely in the top 100 shitty wild things that have happened to taako, if only for the relative novelty of it and how much it sticks in his memory (haw-haw), but like. he wouldn’t say it if he wasn’t willing to do it one more time. like, just once. he’s got it in the bag now, he knows what’s up. plus, he would not at all mind having like. a year off. of just being sick and hanging out with casey and missy. magnus is skeptical. their decision is easier this time, though, even with everything considered.

- they talk about it briefly but they’re pretty into the idea of magnus carrying, maybe. if they can get it to work. they had some fuckin issues last time, so, like. what if they start trying (stressful but cool), see if it sticks (lower amount of stress, more casual) and if it does that’s cool, and if it doesn’t, oops, must be something that’s not gonna happen? magnus is an older guy at this point, which was factored in but ultimately didn’t keep them from giving it a shot. once again they start trying without actually telling. anybody. except each other. mostly because it’s not set in stone.

- funnily enough? performing in this way specifically gives taako weird dysphoria. there’s also a little scene in which magnus, who’s been out as nonbinary for like, 15 years at this point, talks about how he’s totally cool with carrying a child, doesn’t bother him, he’s nonbinary, NOT that it’d be weird if a man did it, because you did it taako and that was fine, and that also makes taako squirm a little. he’s working on it. he’s spent so fucking long getting that like, femme in a masculine way thing down, why’s it bothering him now?? ugh.

- luckily, doesn’t take a whole lot of trying. unluckily, taako is a little annoyed that magnus gets pregnant so easily. whatever. he still gets his baby out of it. (yeah, casey is his baby, this baby is their baby, since he can’t claim it all himself, but it’s still definitely partly his, duh. casey is just his though.)

- angus starts doing babysitting stuff for casey. taako ALSO ends up getting his GODDAMN… joints checked out. fine. whatever. for casey, because she’s having issues with her joints too, obviously, and he can talk about how he feels slightly more than his mostly nonverbal toddler. he’s forced himself to be verbal over the fucking. centuries. so he gets it. he can handle maybe informing whatever genetic thing she’s fucking got, cus he’s kind of always known that lup doesn’t have nearly the same difficulty he does with chronic pain. so this is on him. this is on him now.

- taako gets himself a nonspecific hypermobility disorder diagnosis. so, like, sweet, i fuckin guess, he’s gone like 300 years without it. also, they don’t even have an actual name for it. thanks. feels awesome. after years and years of forcing it down, he’s forced to actually pay attention to the pain and it Fucking Sucks. not a project he thought he’d be starting on while magnus was pregnant, but whatever. it’s fine. life is FINE.

- magnus is actually faring really well. which is also jealousy-inducing in taako. anyway, magnus is sort of miserable about how low energy he is, suddenly, though, but that’s about the most of it, since his brain doesn’t slow down to match the pace of his body. not in the traditional sense, anyway. taako does not understand what he means by this because to him magnus is still bouncing off the walls. he is, however, a great source of humor at the time (as he fucking ALWAYS is, taako always finds him ridiculously stupidly too fucking funny for him to even be REAL, ugh).

- double appointment day. taako sends casey off with angus, and they’re gonna do… whatever they do. he’s given angus some free rein on what he does with the baby. he kinda trusts angus’ instinct. a little more than he did when casey was an infant, anyway. this is a decision he will eventually regret, because while he is getting the shit annoyed out of him by being quizzed on his pain and fitted for digitigrade AFOs he doesn’t want to use (the other braces recommended arent as bad since his like, fingers aren’t so different from most people’s, it’s just just feet and legs that need extra special shit) and then getting slammed with the major whammy of the fact that up until now magnus has been RIGHT: they’ve been missing a TWIN at past appts, and twins are now for sure confirmed. plus, angus is doing unspeakable things, ie he has been introducing casey to lucretia even though taako has said this should not be done at all. today, lucretia makes the mistake of seeing if taako has been teaching her elven sign language.

- magnus is beyond stoked, taako is torn between being excited and being extremely, outrageously jealous because if one of them was going to have twins, it should have been him, goddammit. but whatever. they tell the relevant parties: ie again it stays mostly under wraps except to really close family.

- casey continues seeing lucretia. it’s not a SECRET, it’s just not being said out loud to taako, exactly, is angus’ reasoning here. they both know that it’s going to get out eventually - and it happens sooner rather than later, for sure. what ends up breaking it wide open is one night taako is watching casey and she makes a motion at him that he’s absolutely certain at first is a sign, but it’s just mixed in with a bunch of other hand waving and other movements she’s prone to doing. so it can’t be. plus, he hasn’t been teaching her elven sign. nobody has, have they? So after she goes to bed, taako stands in front of magnus and makes the same series of movements - nonsense and all, and gets confirmation from magnus that it looks a lot like sign language, but magnus denies teaching it to her.

- lup also denies teaching it to her. lup and taako haven’t used it in tens of years, and when they aren’t using it, there isn’t a reason for the other birds to use it, given that it was mostly used for taako to communicate. plus, very few people on faerun use it, given that it’s a language that doesn’t even originate on the goddamn plane. she’s not learning it from angus, probably. probably? FUCK.

- taako confronts angus about it and he immediately folds and tells taako everything on lucretia’s behalf, because he knows it’s going to get rough if they have to be in the same room together. taako is. devastated. and angry. but angus explains to him that he’s always there, he makes a super good middle man, casey LOVES lucretia, they get along really well, she hasn’t been telling casey anything controversial. casey isn’t even old enough to like, get lucretia’s life story. she’s not getting lucretia propaganda, taako. but she has been um, maybe, using elven sign language, because they thought maybe you’d been trying that, too, because she hasn’t been verbal. Taako confirms he has NOT been, he hasn’t used it since cycle 99 started, because he had it fucking TAKEN from him, is the thing.

- but magnus also starts using it again. starts speaking in ESL to casey. taako gets mad about it, but he can’t deny that it’s much more comfortable for him most of the time, and that he can use his limited energy being more expressive bodily when he doesn’t have to curate his voice specifically like he does when talking aloud. magnus is into it! and he makes sure to tell taako this. taako starts using ESL more. a little. to see if casey will pick it up.

- casey does pick it up. casey picks it up much easier than common or elvish. she has some coordination issues in her hands like taako does, exacerbated by her being like four, but she can communicate a little better and it’s. weird. it’s weird. taako is weirded out by it. but everyone else in the house just keeps - even lup gets in on it, so…

- he gets to talk to casey more. it’s so sweet. she’s an asshole and he loves it. she is a lot like taako in so many ways. it is a weird thing to witness. she’s not exceedingly social. she’s kind of . aloof. which is something he knows he’s been accused of, but he didn’t really get it until he saw literally his fuckin. weird self reflected back at him. he realizes pretty quick that she’s definitely a person. she’s fairly independent and at this stage ENJOYS sleeping in her own bed. she likes the routine of brushing her teeth before bed. she hates socks (so does taako), she loves bugs, but she’s scared of dogs. she likes magnus’ woodwork, but doesn’t like powertools, and has next to no interest in magic, but she does like watching taako cook - she also has strong opinions about food, which taako is a little frustrated about at first, but soon finds is fun to work around. he likes flexing his cooking creativity for the first time in years.

- taako fucking. eventually uses his braces, but only because he wants casey to also use them. she has such a hard time walking and he absolutely hates the idea of her being in any amount of pain, much less pain comparable to what he went through as a kid before he made himself deal with it quietly. neither taako nor casey are big on the sensory input these things provide, but they get through it together. they are just kind of on the same wavelength when it comes to sensory overload - so even if taako doesn’t realize it, given that he’s had hundreds of years to perfect masking even to himself, once casey’s had about enough of it, taako can pretty reliably tell that it’s probably time for him to give himself a break, too, if he can manage it. she’s helping him out a lot, even if she doesn’t exactly know it.

- that winter is when elodie and rian are born, in that order. not at home this time, which magnus is a little indignant about because he’s the tough guy here, but ultimately there’s not a whole lot of fight about it. this is partly because magnus burnsides is a bird, and gets whatever he wants, and if he wants a parade of like 20 goddamn people present, nobody, not even a medical professional, has the power to stop him. this time, names were picked out beforehand, mostly because magnus was DEAD SET on not waiting until they were multiple months old. they get these names assigned to them in the same way casey did - as child names, if they want to change them, or permanent if they don’t, or whatever the hell they want to do. magnus takes immediately to calling them duckie and goose, respectively, because he knows that everyone will back him up if taako tries to tell him he can’t call his newly born children what he wants to call them as nicknames. (they do fight about it. everybody is, indeed, on magnus’ side, if only because they’re tired of the naming scheme taako is perpetuating, here.)

- he has also been calling casey bunny for a few years at this point because of her floppy ears (taako wouldn’t let him get away with ‘dumbo’ any longer), so it fits the theme. (he later gets a duckling, a gosling, and a bunny tattooed on him. they can change their names all they want, but their childhood nicknames are his forever now!)

- magnus, uh, DOES have a little stint of oh god what have i done. turns out that weirdly enough, having taako baby him a little bit makes him feel better. having taako be kind and surprisingly understanding about his feelings is weird and puts him on edge at first, but really, taako was like this when he was pregnant, too, where he’s a little more open and a little more emotionally available, so it’s not super surprising in a way that makes it impossible to believe that taako’s actually willing to give him space to grieve and think and worry and wonder.

- elodie and rian are also digitigrade, but their ears are more solid. not quite as mobile as taako’s, but they have some muscle in them instead of casey’s little floppy thing she has going on. they’re cute and all, but the biggest thing taako can’t get over is the fact that they are both born with hair. istus just keeps fucking kicking him while he’s down. magnus doesn’t even worship her, what the fuck.

- they’re both VERY LOUD. casey wasn’t a crier, the twins are. they’re loud, they’re rowdy, they’re babies. they’re, like, real babies, and not little weird creatures like casey. casey is a bug, not a baby, elodie and rian are infants. taako has already set a precedent of being a nighttime caretaker, given that magnus needs 8 hrs of sleep/night and he needs 4 hrs of meditation. so this continues, for the most part.

- yes, they have two infants. they also have a little girl who is now getting finally also fitted for orthotics which is cool. she’s also learning ESL. magnus, taako, lucretia, and lup all know it. basically everyone in her life knows sign language. magnus is a little rusty, but he’s taking like. ‘lessons’ from taako. this is also being taught in moderation to the twins, but the twins have their own shit going on between each other. taako gets to watch these things develop twin language WITHOUT HIM. it’s fine.

- lucretia becomes a slightly more… common… occurrence. he sees her at parties and gatherings now - they start being invited to the same things. they’re not involved with each other closely, but they’re adjacent. they talk SOMETIMES. if there’s a buffer between them. mostly at these gatherings, and only when taako’s sober. the moment he’s imbibed anything magnus physically gets between them. it becomes missy and casey’s jobs to watch the twins and magnus’ to watch taako to make sure he doesn’t say or do anything too fucked up.

- elodie is a huge casey fan. loves casey to death, but they have the sibling dynamic going on where casey is so focused on being fully enamored with an looking up to missy that she sort of ignores elodie, and elodie is so focused on casey that she ignores missy, who just wants everyone to be friends together so bad.

- the twins are definitely a step up in complicated parenting. casey was a good first step. somehow? got what is the beginner-friendliest baby. some fucking how. these guys, though. elodie is a very curious kid, a very energetic kid, a very intense kid. playful, extroverted. chatty even when she doesn’t have like. language down yet. rian less so. rian’s more like casey in this regard. less chatty. needs a lot of quiet time.

- magnus used to have a stim where he would ball up his fist and slam it into his chest or shoulder, which definitely, definitely was not good for him, given that he eventually got very strong and was giving himself some pretty gnarly bruises and lacerations with it. he also used to (still does, but slightly less) deal with really bad RSD. it kind of fucks him up watching rian go through the same things. taako is just kind of like “yeah, dude, the dark mirror, we’ve all been peering into it” and magnus is like wow. huh. this is wild. i’m sorry, little guy.

- rian ends up sharing a room with casey once he’s old enough (not permanently, but it’s an option for him). he does better in a quiet environment and elodie is not super conducive to this, but casey is, with her also preferring no loud or repetitive sounds. she also relies more heavily on ESL than the other kids, which rian uses with her quite often while he feels more pressured into speaking verbally to others.

- by this time magnus has made casey what he calls her rabbit hutch - basically, as a toddler, she always ended up like, under her bed, or in her closet, or what have you to sleep. taako’s solution to this was ‘oh baby come sleep in my bed then’, but she didn’t want this, so magnus makes her a little doghouse style thing. A canopied bed, but with solid walls and a weighted base, and a tighter space inside. it doesn’t last her into her teens, but she does use it a lot as a little kid. it’s like a permanent blanket fort. taako’s embarrassed that his daughter lives in a fucking dog house his boyfriend made, but she loves it - and eventually starts letting rian in there, too.

- elodie also likes going in there but 3 kids can’t fit at once, and also she gets bored really fast so most of the time it’s casey and rian time only. and they just sit silently in there.

- listen i have a ton of twin lore in my brain but it’s very difficult to put down in a concise way. i’ll get it out. some day. til then have basics. elodie is a big girl, she’s a tough little girl, she likes being able to help out her mama. (even taako is not allowed to call magnus this. elodie and rian, however, are. for taako is it papa strictly. papa bear will also be tolerated. encouraged.) she loves AXES. she wants one so bad. she’s like six and it’s all she wants for every gift-giving event ever is a REAL AXE. taako and elodie absolutely have a Real Sword type conversation. elodie thinks it’s hilarious, but also kind of frustrating because no, dad, she really does actually want a real axe.

- elodie ALSO isn’t really a dog person. they’re okay! she likes them! she’s just not like, dog obsessed. despite magnus’ best efforts, she does not develop canine special interest, which he’s a little sad about, but it’s okay, because he does eventually get it with rian, thankfully. SOMEONE fucking likes dogs in this goddamn household.

- elodie does however LOVE their cats. she’s neutral on the fish and shrimp (did i mention they have a huge saltwater tank. they do. taako raises shramps). she wants a goat. she’s not the pony kid, that’s rian.

- rian is fucking obsessed with animals in general. he loves casey’s stuffed animals. he loves garyl. he loves dogs, especially the big rough guys, mostly because they can handle some roughhousing. he and magnus wrestle, which magnus loves, and they do a lot of work with the dogs, which is GREAT, because by the time rian is 8 or 9 magnus really, really just wants to get back to working regularly, doing dog training and stuff, and he loves having angus and rian around to help.

- OKAY ALL I REALLY KNOW BEYOND THIS IS THAT casey gets really into rollerskating. she likes drawing, but doesn’t stick with it. she likes roleplaying games. taako and lucretia are keyword kinda reintroduced to each other’s lives after a LOT of strife and a lot of fuckups. casey lives with taako for quite a while. idk about the twins yet, but i know that casey is not really ready to go do her own thing for quite a while, and even after she does move out, she’s always got her dad on speed dial, and out of everyone in the universe once magnus is gone, she is one of the only people he will ALWAYS pick up the phone for. every single time, doesn’t matter what he’s doing.

ta da there’s more, obviously, but like. this is where i’m at. currently. with my fucking. six million words (realistically more like 40-50k, it’s hard to compile when it’s spread out across many text docs and google docs and shit.)

#taagnus #taag bbs #pregnancy #pregnancy w #I MEAN IT AS PREGNANCY WARNING BUT PREGNANCY W IS ALSO TRUE KINDA. IDK HOW TO TAG FOR THAT BUT ITS IN THE DAMN TEXT BODY TOO SO LISTEN #caseyposting...#i think that counts as caseyposting.#ask for trigger tags seriously. but it is also all under a readmore with a trigger list beforehand. so.

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