#where he's wrong is not realising that's the point

[verstappenverse]

Always Almost Yours

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: He was your best friend. The boy you grew up with. The boy you loved in silence. Now that his relationship is over and he finally sees you, really sees you, you’re already halfway out the door. (Requested)

2.7k words / Masterlist

He never looked at you the way you looked at him.

That was the cruelest part.

Max was your best friend.

Not just in the way people say that when they mean we talk often and like the same music. Max was the scraped-knees-and-late-night-phone-calls kind of best friend. The first person to teach you how to throw a punch and the first to teach you how to lie to your parents without getting caught. The boy who once held your hand under the covers during a thunderstorm when you were both eleven and too proud to admit you were scared.

He was the one who always came back to you, even after the worst races. The one who let you see the parts of him no one else ever would, sharp and soft, boy and man, storm and shelter all at once.

And still, somehow, never yours.

You were the one in the passenger seat. The one who knew when to leave him alone after a bad quali, when to pull him close and whisper “you’ll get ’em tomorrow.” The one who stood in his corner for so long you stopped realising you were still hoping he’d turn around and see you.

You were always there. Until suddenly he didn’t need you anymore. Not when she came along.

Beautiful, confident, glossy-haired and golden-skinned, and you told yourself it was fine. Of course you did. You smiled when he brought her to your birthday party, even when he forgot to tell you he was bringing someone. Even when she kissed his cheek in the middle of your kitchen like it was nothing.

You laughed with everyone else, poured drinks, unwrapped gifts, made small talk with drivers and engineers. But you spent half the night locked in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub, blinking up at the ceiling as your reflection blurred behind tears you refused to let fall.

You didn’t want to hate her. She hadn’t done anything wrong except exist in all the ways you weren’t allowed to, with your hand in his, your head on his shoulder, your future mapped beside his.

Still some part of you couldn’t help but ask: What does she have that I don’t?

What did she say that made him lean in a little closer? What laugh of hers replaced the space you used to fill?

And most of all: What would it feel like to be looked at by him the way he looks at her?

Because he never looked at you like that. Not in all the years you’d known him. Not when you were seventeen and he called you at three in the morning because he couldn't sleep in Bahrain and you talked until sunrise. Not when you showed up at the track the day he won his first Grand Prix, teary-eyed and breathless, and he ran into your arms like he hadn’t seen you in years.

Close enough to know every version of him. Every scar, every secret, every softness he never let the world see.

But never close enough to keep.

Still you loved him, because loving Max wasn’t something you decided.

It had always been that way.

Always almost his.

Never quite.

You didn’t mean to fall out of love with him. And truthfully, you aren’t sure you actually have, not entirely, not in the way people mean when they say they’ve moved on. The feelings are still there, somewhere beneath the surface, lingering in the hollow parts of your chest that still expect him to show up, but the edges of it have dulled. Worn down not by time, but by the slow, painful realisation that loving him wasn’t going to be enough to make him love you back.

Somewhere between the unanswered texts, the forgotten plans, the way he spoke about her, something inside you began to quietly fracture. Not all at once, and not with any grand moment of clarity. A hundred little moments where you chose not to say what you were thinking, not to reach for him the way you used to. Because what was the point?

You started packing your things about two months ago. Not in any physical sense, your life still looked the same on the outside, still orbiting his in all the ways it always had, but emotionally you’d begun the process of leaving, like someone backing out of a room without turning on the lights.

You removed his contact from the pinned position at the top of your phone, so the ache wouldn’t hit so hard when he didn’t reply how you had hoped. You stopped buying his favourite ice cream at the store, the kind he used to steal from your freezer late at night, grinning like a teenager. You stopped screenshotting tweets or saving videos you thought he’d laugh at. And eventually you stopped wondering whether he’d noticed any of it.

You weren’t angry… just tired, in that deep, soul-heavy way that comes from wanting something for so long and slowly realising it was never meant to be yours.

Max knew you were in Barcelona this weekend, still he hadn’t expected to see you tonight.

The party was an afterthought. He hadn’t planned to stay long. He’d barely touched his drink when he walked in, just enough to be polite, to show face.

It had been a couple of weeks since the breakup.

It hadn’t been sudden, not really. The end had been coming for a while slow and quiet, a withering sort of feeling that didn’t crack so much as fade. She’d grown distant and he’d let her. He’d grown restless, and she hadn’t tried to stop him. They’d gone through the motions, races, events, photo ops, dinners where the silence spoke louder than anything either of them said.

The fights when they came were never loud, just flat, low-voiced disagreements that ended with someone walking out and no one following.

She’d asked him, finally, if there was someone else.

And he’d hesitated.

Not because there was. Not in the way she meant. He hadn’t cheated, not physically. But there was a pause in his answer, long enough that they both felt it settle into the space between them like a bruise.

She knew before he did. She knew the name he didn’t say.

He hadn’t spoken to you since. Hadn’t known how to… maybe he still doesn’t.

It isn’t until tonight, standing across the room with a drink in his hand and a weight in his chest, that he feels the full weight of what he’s done. What he’s missed.

You’re laughing, your head tipped back, hand resting on the arm of a chair, body turned toward someone else in a way that makes Max feel like he’s watching a different life you stepped into without him.

You look good. Effortlessly beautiful in that way you never tried to be, eyes warm, smile wide, you just are, and somehow that’s more magnetic than anything he’s ever known.

And fuck, he feels it now. All of it.

The way his eyes search for you in every room. The way his day feels off when he hasn’t heard your voice. The dull ache he carries when he sees something funny and instinctively reaches for his phone, only to stop, unsure if you’d even want to hear from him anymore.

It hits him with a clarity that makes his breath stop, and he misses you in every way a person can be missed.

You glance up. Spot him.

For a second your smile falters. A flicker of something in your eyes before you school your expression into something smooth and indifferent. It’s a tiny crack, so small no one else would notice, but it splits him open.

He starts to move before he can think better of it. Cuts across the floor, his hand tightening around the glass in his palm, trying to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to say after months of silence. After choosing someone else. After pretending like he hadn’t known what he was doing when he left you in the shadows.

But you’re already turning. Already slipping out the side door with your phone pressed to your ear, and your smile stitched back into place.

He stops and stands there, stupidly, watching the door swing closed behind you, knowing that for the first time in all the years he’s known you, he’s the one who missed his moment.

You didn’t expect him to follow you out of the party.

So you went back to your hotel alone, slipped out of your dress, washed off your makeup, and packed the last of your things.

Now you’re sitting on the edge of your hotel bed, suitcase zipped, passport tucked into your carry-on, and your ride to the airport fifteen minutes away when there's a knock at the door.

You don’t have to ask to know it’s him, and despite everything telling you not to you let him in.

“You’re leaving?”

It used to be so easy with him.

Movie nights sprawled on his couch, bickering over snack choices like an old married couple. Late drives with the windows down and music turned up too loud, him tapping the steering wheel and glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he’d toss his arm around your shoulder without thinking twice, not noticing how your breath always caught for a second too long. Or how he’d call you liefje by accident sometimes and then pretend it didn’t mean anything.

You let it slide.

You always let it slide.

Because you were scared of the answer if you ever asked what you were to him.

And now he’s the one asking you why you’re leaving?

You don’t look up. Not at first. You focus on the zipper, on the way your hands tremble slightly as you fix the handle of your suitcase into place.

“Yeah,�� you say after a moment, voice flat, too carefully even.

He shifts, like the floor’s been pulled slightly off balance beneath him. “Tonight? You didn’t tell me.”

You let out a soft, humourless breath. “We haven’t exactly been updating each other lately have we?”

He flinches, just barely. “Still… I thought I’d see you before you left.”

“I was at the party,” you say. “You saw me

“No, I thought—” He cuts himself off, brows pulling together. “You didn’t say goodbye.”

You finally lift your head to look him properly in the eyes.

He’s standing just inside the doorway, his eyes are tired, his expression cracked open in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” you say quietly.

Maybe that’s the cruelest thing you’ve ever said to him, because it does matter. Of course it does. It shows in the way his shoulders tense and his hands curl into fists at his sides like he’s trying to stop himself from shaking.

“That’s not fair.”

You pick up your bag, ignoring the weight of the silence between you, and step toward the door.

“I didn’t know,” he says, voice low, like he’s ashamed of it now.

You don’t look at him. “Didn’t know what?”

He hesitates, and when you finally glance up, he’s looking at you like the truth is a sharp thing he’s only just worked up the courage to hold.

“That you loved me.”

Your fingers slip slightly from the handle of your bag. “What…?”

“I never said that,” you manage, your voice catching on the edges.

“You didn’t have to.” His eyes are steady now, searching. “It was always there I should’ve seen it,” he says. “Should’ve seen you.”

You shake your head, “I guess you were too busy loving someone else.”

He looks gutted.

You wish, God, you wish that it didn’t still matter. That it didn’t still sting.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says.

“You didn’t even know you were Max. That’s the whole point.”

The room feels too quiet. Too small. Your heartbeat too loud.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” you continue, voice shaking now, “to love someone for years and never be seen. To be right there always and still not be enough.”

Max stares at you like you’ve told him the world is ending.

“I see you now,” he says, and it’s not slick or smooth, it’s wrecked and raw.

You swallow. “You’re only saying that because I’m walking away.”

“No.” He steps forward, desperate now. “No, I’m saying it because you’re the only thing that’s ever felt like home and I’m an idiot for not realising it sooner.”

Your throat tightens, and you hate how much it still hurts. How much of you still wants to believe him. Still wants to stay.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve never said them before.”

“Because I didn’t know,” he says, the words sharp and uneven. “I didn’t know what it meant, all those times I looked for you first. Or why I couldn’t sleep unless I heard your voice. I didn’t get it until now, and I know that’s my fault, but please—”

You shake your head, eyes stinging. “You did know. Somewhere in there, you did. You just didn’t want it. Not back then.”

He exhales, broken. “I thought you’d always be there.”

“I was,” you whisper.

You don’t stop him when he reaches for you this time. When his hand brushes yours, and for the first time in what feels like years, you let yourself feel the gravity of him.

He’s looking at you now like the sun has just split through storm clouds. Like he’s seeing you clearly for the very first time.

But it’s not enough anymore.

You step back, voice soft but steady. “I spent years being almost yours Max. I can’t do that again.”

“I broke up with her.”

“I know,” you say, and your heart shatters a little more for it. “But it doesn’t change what it felt like to stand beside you all that time and never be chosen.”

“It changes everything.”

“Not for me.”

He opens his mouth, searching, maybe, for some last piece of you to hold onto, but nothing comes. Just the rise and fall of his chest and the silence that says too much.

So you keep going. You have to.

“You don’t want me. You just don’t want to lose me.”

“That’s not true,” he says quickly.

“Isn’t it?”

He looks at you like you’ve just gutted him with a lie.

“Please,” he says, voice hoarse and breaking.

If he’d said this even just a few months ago…

But now?

Now it just splits you open.

He walks you down to the lobby anyway.

The car pulls up. You reach for the handle, and of course he stops you. Fingers curl around your wrist, and it’s the first time in your entire friendship he looks terrified to let go.

“Stay,” he says, rough and low and entirely unlike him. “Just… stay. Let me prove I mean it.”

You look down at his hand and you want to. More than anything, you want to, but you shake your head.

“So that’s it?” he asks. “You’re just going to walk away?”

“I have to,” you whisper, voice already trembling. “Because if I don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life being the girl who waited around for you to love her back.”

Max looks at you like his entire world is falling apart.

You lean in, press the softest kiss to his cheek, and then you step into the car and close the door before you can change your mind.

He texts you later that night.

Just one message.

I’m not letting us end like that.

You see it the moment it comes through. The screen lights up on the nightstand beside your bed, a soft glow in the dim room. The kind of light that feels too hopeful. Too late.

You lock the screen and place the phone face-down on the nightstand. The room falls quiet again, heavy with all the words you don’t say.

You read the words again, and again, because it’s not a grand gesture. It’s not an apology wrapped in flowers or fireworks.

It’s simple... but for once he didn’t wait too long.

You place the phone gently back on the nightstand, but something in your chest has started to shift. To warm. To hope

You don’t reply, not right away, because maybe if he really means it…

He’ll come find you.

And he’ll show you you were never just almost.

Taglist: @shigarika @bunnisplayground @thecoolpotatohologram @ymrereads @alexxavicry @gigglepre @esw1012 @satorinnie @percysaidnever @osclerc @sainzluvrr @autumn242 @shadowreader07 @joyfulpandamiracle @inmynotes63 @athanasia-day @embonbon @waterdeeply @shadowsoundeffects13 @fastandcurious16 @odegaardlia @skzvibes-blog @iambored24601 @e10owmaks @painfromblues @leto-twins-3107 @rxx-eegh @lewishamiltonismybf @mara1999 @armystay89 @ramonaflwsr @zazima @mischiefmxnxgedhp @yoonessa @wordskeeper @freyathehuntress @brumstappen @irenkaproszepana @butterkaput @blueskies4everxo @teamnovalak @taylordaughter @taetae-armyyyyy @kitty-m30w

[rafeslvbug]

TULLE AND TAXES

– crybaby!ballerina!reader x ruthless!businessman!rafe

a/n: this was going to be a series, then i lost the plot so just enjoy the fic!

he leans back in his chair. the spot in the back of the theatre, hidden in the shadows, next to a business partner he intends to buy out tomorrow. hands folded in his lap, tracking his newest investment.

white tulle in ruffles around her waist. poised and elegant. her headpiece doesn’t fall from her head, while he notices some other girls hurry to adjust theirs. discreet, but he still spots it. her pointe shoes are seamlessly blended to her skin. her legs are straight, movements evenly timed. not sloppy. precise. he knows she’s practiced. he respects it.

“so? what’d you think?” his partner nudges him in the arm. rafe knows he doesn’t think like he does. his partner’s preoccupied with infrastructure, the beauty of the place, whether it’s worth investing in. turning it into some apartment complex like every other cement block they own. rafe knows it’s the girls on stage, devoting their life to the audiences who fill the halls that will make him the money he spends. his partner hasn’t glanced at them once.

“i think she’s perfect,” rafe murmurs, following how you gracefully back yourself into the corner, out of the way. you let a girl with the clumsiness of a human take the stage, the spotlight, while you dance with the gracefulness of a swan. she doesn’t compare to you, yet you let her believe she does.

“them? i’m talking about the look of this place..” he scoffs, shaking his head at rafe. he thinks rafe is stupid. there’s nothing rafe hates more than being undervalued. he’s the top of his chain, fought his way there– how could he be questioned? and his partner got it wrong too– not them, just you.

“an’ i’m talkin’ about her.” rafe nods his head to you. undervalued, too. somehow so content when you’re being pulled back, limited.

he can help with that.

“who? i don’t see her..” his partner moves his head closer to rafe’s.

“of course you don’t,” rafe tuts. no one sees you. “doesn’t matter, it’s a good investment, put me in contact with the sellers.” he pushes to his feet, deals the order out with ease. the man’s on the same level as him, but not anymore. now rafe’s shoving him out, and he’s defenseless to stop it. can’t even try.

his partner disappears behind the curtain. rafe stays. he observes you. some girls, with keener eyes than you, spot him. flush. fumble. they think he’s looking at them.

he’s focused on you.

you don’t spot him. your head is bowed. pure concentration looks so seamless on you.

he loves it.

when he forces himself away, he doesn’t make the buy yet. he knows not to look hasty. it raises the price, and though he figures you might be worth it, he’d rather save that money to improve you. invest in you, instead. over this, he seeks out the director, intently watching behind the backstage curtain.

“rehearsals hm?” rafe wonders aloud, behind the director. he startles the man, but rafe’s calm. glances at him, over him, like he’s so unimportant, then through the gap in the curtain. he can see you closer now, and can’t spot much flaw other than that you’re not where you should be: the centre.

“uh– oh, yes,” the director stammers, disorganised. rafe questions whether a man like that could really produce something as wonderful as you, and based on the quality of the other dancers he assumes he can’t. you’re an angel of your own creation.

“when i buy this place, i’d like this to continue..” rafe says, but it doesn’t sound like a request. no, it sounds like a plan. one the director can’t oppose to, and wouldn’t even try to go against.

the man blinks at rafe behind his glasses. maybe he hadn’t realised rafe was the investor. well, he did now. it rendered him somewhat speechless, or perhaps afraid, for he simply nodded.

“good.” rafe tilts his head, angling himself better to see you. 

“do you like the ballet?” the director inquires, hopeful. someone who will take his passion seriously, fund them how he hoped.

rafe shrugs.

the director’s shoulder’s sag. his hope deflated. 

“when it’s well executed, i guess,” he sighs. disappointed. 

the man doesn’t miss the comment, the way it’s directed at him. “you don’t think my girls are performing well?” 

he’s offended– rafe can understand that. he would be too, if he produced work as badly as that. 

“that one,” rafe nods to you. 

“we can get rid of her?” the director suggests. rafe scowls. how can a man be so blind to talent? perfection.

“she’s the only good one. if you do anything, get rid of everyone but her.” 

[pinkpuppipawz]

Imagine the saja boys finding a male reader and they make him their manger. Maybe they stage a fake contest. Now they use him as a human witness so the girls can't attack with him around. So each guy spends one on one time with him. Casual things so like baby takes him out to eat lunch and of course piles on the hot sauce on hid food. What do you know they ran into one or all of the girls? Gives the boys another way to mess and give a good public image.

HUMAN SHIELD

°ᡣ𐭩 . Saja Boys x GN! Manager! Reader

CONTENTS ꒱ ➜ reader is on their breaking point, the boys enjoying toying with huntrix, platonic relationship with reader(?), mentions of murder

CREDITS ꒱ ➜ Saja Boys belong to KPOP Demon Hunters (Sony) on Netflix

AUTHORS NOTE ꒱ ➜ I know you said male reader but unfortunately at the moment I am planning on only writing for GN! Reader bc I want everyone to enjoy my writing, hope it doesn’t change much and you still enjoy it :3

the demon boy band knew that Huntrix was high on their track, planning on at some point to end them and gwi ma once and for all

but they weren’t having it

they needed to think of a way to prevent the hunters from interfering with their plan for as long as possible to ensure loads of souls were collected for gwi ma

they all huddled together one day, discussing ways to help protect themselves. when Jinu thought of the best plan possible

then the topic of a contest was brought up, they all agreed on it

in short, members of the public purchase one ticket with a number and whoever’s number they pull out of a hat is their ‘manager’ (human shield)

you bought a ticket as they were shockingly cheap for the Saja Boys. you honestly didn’t expect to win, just wanted a shot

only for them to call out your ticket number

you expected it to be a normal manager role, not whatever this was

whenever a member went out by himself in public, he always dragged you along no matter where he was going

wether that be Baby dragging you to a restaurant for lunch, hot sauce piled on his food, even his dessert (he’s a psychopath)

Abby forcing you to join him in the gym, claiming he only wants you there to hold his water bottle and towel (he defo did NOT want you there just to flex his muscles and abs at all times possible)

Romance claiming he wants a ‘shopping partner’ e.g. just a clothing hanger to hold all the clothes he wants to buy. he throws them on you, even throws them on your face. one time he honestly forgot you were there and nearly had a heart attack when you popped out of the hoard of clothes like a meerkat

Jinu always claims he needs a ‘bodyguard’ of sorts when out and about, just in case a fan jumps him you know?

Mystery doesn’t go out often, only needs you with him if he’s alone inside cause he ‘gets lonely’

huntrix tried getting rid of them a few times when they’re out and about in dodgy alleyways and such, the perfect chance to kill them right? wrong! there you are, their human manager, giving them a few ideas for future concerts, what to wear and future meet and greets with fans

when you were too busy looking at your phone to write things down and talk to certain company’s, the boys all simultaneously turned around to face the girls, eyes glowing yellow and grins as devilish as ever

one time the girls were so close to their ultimate goal, only for you to suddenly appear out of seemingly nowhere (you literally did due to jinu using his demon powers to teleport you without you knowing)

you greeted the girls with a grin, congratulating them on their new song and such, completely oblivious to the glares the girls were giving the boys

fun fact: you don’t know that they’re demons, you’re completely oblivious to it. the boys honestly believe if they were to change to their demon forms you wouldn’t even realise or react

© Content belongs to @ pinkpuppipawz, do NOT re-post my work on any other social media platforms (I only post on tumblr)

[lansfavboy]

hey i’ve got a request! i don’t know if you do top!oscar/bottom!lando but something post-silverstone where oscar’s raging and has nowhere to put his anger and landos there and willing and the moment sorta builds up and it gets crazy from there

hi anon!! my first request and i'm so very happy x hope you enjoy!!

♡ pairing: bottom!lando norris x top!oscar piastri ♡ warnings: post silverstone, angst if you squint, VERY SMUTTY, free use lando?, degrading language, very brief hatred towards magui, dubcon if you squint, oral & anal, not proofread! ♡ word count: 1.3k

Silverstone didn’t go as Oscar wanted.

It was obvious. A forced smile on the podium, the pissed off radio message after a mistake a 4 time world champion made on a weekly basis.

None of it was fair. 

Now he was standing in his driver room, absolutely fuming, hands in his hair, pulling a bit too hard to be considered ‘okay,’ pacing like a stressed team principal.

Lando had disappeared somewhere, probably getting head from his stupid current toy, who followed him around like a lost puppy. Magui was like that with a lot of men, as Oscar had learnt from his coworkers chatting shit about her.

The thought of them together pissed him off even more. Lando should be here with him, doing his usual speech of “it’s okay, mate, next time, yeah? Just a silly mistake.”

He knew he’d liked him for a while. His body, at least. The tan abs, the perfectly sculpted biceps, the goatee he’d dreamt about seeing covered in his own cum late at night. 

Too good for Magui. Too out of reach for Oscar.

A knock on the door broke his train of thought, the Aussie reluctantly spinning on his heel to open it a bit too aggressively.

Lando.

Like he’d manifested it.

The older man gave a shy smile, almost bashful.

“Yes?” He didn’t mean to sound so rude, truly. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Lando swallowed, stepping in with his P1 cap still covering his curls, smelling like champagne and victory.

“I uhh- wanted to see you. Make sure you were alright after… ya know.”

Oscar held back a scoff, wiping a hand over his face in frustration. Of course he wasn’t ‘alright.’ His race was ruined and the team didn’t give a flying fuck. Suddenly Alpine didn’t seem like a bad option anymore; at least they’d value him.

“Brilliant, mate.”

Lando sighed, leaning back on the now shut door and crossing his arms across his soaked chest. 

“Don’t be like that, Oscar; just admit it wasn’t the right move.”

Oh. So we’re doing this?

Oscar scoffed, stepping closer and gripping the shorter man's jaw, forcing him to look up at him.

“Are you shitting me? You say you’re here to check on me and then decide to rile me up more? Fucking hell, Lando.”

Lando stared up defiantly, that usual somewhat frustrated look in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about helping you at least a little.”

“And you’ll help me how? Tell Stella to stop the damn favouritism? You’re in the wrong place for that, mate.”

Lando rolled his eyes, semi-pulling away from Oscar’s grip. They’d both only just realised how close they were currently standing, chests scraping the other.

“I’m just- I’m here if you need to, like…” he made some odd hand movements, gesturing to Oscar like he couldn’t find the correct words. “If you have to expel any extra emotions. You know.”

Oscar paused.

Took a breath.

Stared at Lando’s eyes, which at this point were practically begging him to catch on so he wouldn’t have to spell it out.

“You’ll let me fuck you?”

Lando hesitated, then nodded.

Oscar didn’t need to be told twice. He was on him in a second.

His lips found Lando’s neck instantly, his teeth scraping along his adams apple, causing a shiver down both mens spines. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” Oscar’s tone was gravelly and desperate as he sucked a hickey into the other’s neck, not caring who’d see it. There was no media work until the end of the month. Who cared?

The whine that slipped out of Lando’s mouth made him think he’d wanted it just as long. He probably hated his girlfriend, just waiting for a chance to escape her.

Oscar’s hand left his jaw to lock the door, returning to palm his bulge, earning a groan out of the Brit before pushing him to his knees.

“You wanna help? Suck.”

Lando tugged Oscar’s shorts down, hands lingering on his thighs. He’d always had a fixation on them, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

His cock sprang out quickly like it’d been waiting for the chance to finally make an appearance, already dripping and hard after just a few kisses. His eyes caught Lando’s, the previous frustration replaced by surprise.

“Jesus- you’re fucking packing in there mate.”

“Don’t call me mate when you’re about to choke on me, Lando.”

He forced his head down before he could reply, hand threading through his hair and guiding him slowly and deeply.

Lando was already choking and drooling, tears pooling in his eyes as he took him in inch by inch. 

“Atta boy… so good, Lan. Choke on it for me.”

Oscar began to quicken his guidance, a groan echoing into the tiny room, mouth falling open as Lando continued—though it isn’t like he had any choice with the grip Oscar currently had on him.

As the Aussie got closer, he yanked Lando off, pulling him up and bending him over the massage table Kim had left prior to his shitshow of a race.

“You’re gonna take it. You’re gonna be loud. You’re gonna let me cum inside you. Got it?”

“Yes- yes, Osc-”

Oscar slid a hand under his waistband to grab a handful of his arse before pushing his joggers down and kneeling behind him.

“No boxers, hm? Slut. Knew what was coming.”

His tongue slid into Lando’s hole slowly, hands gripping the man’s hips whilst he fidgeted around, squirming at the feeling.

The feeling was heavenly, Oscar’s fingers creeping closer to his entrance, prodding around.

He slid a finger in, slowly starting to drag in and out of Lando’s now wet hole. A small gasp left his lips as he tried to thrust backwards onto it for more. Another entered, then a third, stretching him out relentlessly.

When he was content, Oscar bent over to grab the lube he kept in his backpack for emergency situations (which genuinely started when his thighs would chafe in hotter races). He squeezed some on his fingers and his cock, trying his best to warm it up before lining himself up behind Lando and pushing in slowly.

“Shit- shit shit shit Oscar- what the fuck-” Lando was blabbering on about god knows what as he gripped the table for dear life, his knuckles turning white instantly. 

“Have you never taken it up the arse before?” He chuckled almost cruelly, pausing once he bottomed out for Lando to adjust.

Lando whined, taking a few breaths. “Of course I have- shit- just not like this.”

A pause.

“Can you move now for fucks sa-”

He was cut off by an involuntary moan as Oscar began to thrust in and out, panting through his teeth. 

Oscar moved a hand to push Lando’s back into a harsh arch, the other trailing up to his mouth to stuff half his fist in to keep him silent.

“Shut up. Pathetic.”

He started to get faster, panting louder as he bit back groans at how tight Lando was around him. He was partially convinced this was his first time, but it was a bit late to go gentle now.

“Even a bastard when you win. Never happy, are you, Norris? Nothing is ever good enough.”

Oscar was rambling now. Spitting out whatever he could think of as he grabbed the back of Lando’s shirt, staring at the ‘4’ on it, angry tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

It’d be a ‘1’ soon, probably. If he continued how he was.

He thrust faster, harder, deeper, biting his tongue so hard he thought blood would be dripping out his mouth by now.

“F-fuck, close, Osc.”

Lando’s words pulled him back to reality, the muffled words around his fist causing him to push it further into his mouth. 

“Gonna fill you up, hopeless whore.”

Oscar let go, almost collapsing onto Lando as he stuttered to a stop, Lando finishing simultaneously and making a mess on the floor.

He pulled out after a second, watching his cum drip out slowly, running down the Brit’s legs.

“Good boy. Finally did something good for me.”

[oceannote]

Seventeen's Reaction—Realising he is in love with another member's girlfriend (Vocal Unit)

Note from author: My bad for taking literal ages to come up with part two, but life has been on one. Hope you will enjoy.

Summary: OT13's realising they are in love with the girlfriend of another member.

Warnings: Impossible love, kind of cheating allegations

1️⃣ Jeonghan: When Vernon first introduced you to the SEVENTEEN members, you were visibly shy, nervous even, your hand firmly clasped in his like it was the only thing grounding you. You barely said a word that day. Jeonghan remembers you exactly like that: quiet, polite, sweet, but detached from their world.

He didn’t think much of it at first. Not in a cold way, Jeonghan was never the type to be rude. But you seemed like someone from another orbit, and he had no reason to imagine your paths would ever meaningfully cross. He figured Vernon would keep you separate from their chaos, and maybe you preferred it that way.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

It started at a casual dinner, one of those “family and friends” evenings where the members all brought people close to them, a rare night of laughter, too much food, and inside jokes. By chance, you ended up seated next to Jeonghan. He braced for polite small talk, maybe awkward silences. Instead, you threw out a sarcastic comment about the way he meticulously arranged the cutlery in front of him.

"Is this a dinner or a military drill, Jeonghan?" you teased, eyebrow raised.

He looked at you, surprised, then laughed, really laughed. The rest of the evening became a volley of dry wit and strange topics, the two of you poking fun at each other between mouthfuls of bulgogi and spicy rice cakes. You kept him on his toes. And he liked it.

From then on, things... shifted. Slowly, at first. He started noticing you more. The way you talked with the staff so naturally, the way you always looked Vernon in the eye when he spoke, like you really listened, the way you were always doing something small but kind, tidying up cups after practice, bringing someone their charger without being asked.

Then there were the nights you’d hang out with his sister, nail nights, you called them, where you’d experiment with gel tips and glitter polishes. He’d come home to the sound of your laughter mixing with his sister’s, the smell of pizza or ramen filling the kitchen.

You started asking him for rides when Vernon was still at the studio. At first, the drives were quiet, awkward even. But then you started controlling the playlist. He didn’t fight it. Somehow, the car always ended up full of bad singing, loud choruses, and your laughter when he tried to rap along. You’d always tap his arm or give it a small squeeze when he pulled up to Vernon’s place, grinning.

“Thanks for the ride. You’re officially my favourite chauffeur,” you’d joke.

He told himself it was nothing. Just a friendship. A good one, even.

Then came that night.

You dropped by the company with homemade pizza, cheesy, perfectly crisped, with little notes on each box. "Don’t let Woozi hog the pepperoni," one of them read. The boys were thrilled, and someone suggested a game of Mafia.

It started off playful. But then you stood up mid-round, pointing at him dramatically.

“Yah, Jeonghan! You liar!” you called out, eyes narrowed, half-laughing, half-accusing. “You’re the mafia. No way you just guessed Mingyu was the doctor and wasn’t going for the money.”

The room erupted. Jeonghan sat there, stunned. That was his oldest trick, one he’d perfected. No one had ever called him out like that.

He smiled, but something inside shifted.

The final moment came later that evening, when the two of you were voted to go grab drinks from the nearby corner store. A stupid, innocent task. The city was quiet, the alley dim, the world reduced to your shared footsteps.

You swung the plastic bag in your hand as you walked beside him, close enough to brush shoulders.

“You know,” you said casually, “when I first met you, I was kinda terrified of you.”

He turned his head, surprised. “Me? Why?”

You chuckled. “I don’t know... You looked like you had everyone figured out. Like you could read minds or something. I thought you’d be... unapproachable.”

He raised a brow. “And what changed your mind?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Your sister. Watching how much you care about her, how soft you are around her. It made me realize that underneath the sarcasm and the smirks, you’re actually just... a really loving person.”

Jeonghan blinked, taken off guard.

You smiled, eyes warm. “If you treat her that well, I can only imagine how lucky your future partner’s gonna be.”

Then you squeezed his arm, a quick, friendly gesture, and walked ahead, humming a tune, the plastic bag rustling softly.

But Jeonghan stood still.

In that quiet second, the world around him dulled. The distant city sounds faded. He watched you in front of him, laughing softly to yourself about something. And he knew.

He was in trouble.

Because now, all he wanted was for him to be the person you were talking about. The one you imagined. The one you'd see like that.

But you were already someone else’s.

His friend’s.

And you trusted him.

Jeonghan inhaled sharply and followed after you, a small, wistful smile on his lips.

He wouldn’t say a word. He couldn’t.

But he knew exactly what he’d just lost, something he was never allowed to have in the first place. 2️⃣ Joshua: The first time you met Joshua was… anything but normal.

You’d been dating Dino for almost six months now, but between your work exchange abroad and his packed schedule as an idol, your relationship had been more long-distance than either of you planned. After two months away, you were finally back in Seoul, ready to pick things up where you left off. You missed the small, quiet things the most: grocery runs together, late-night ramen, falling asleep with the TV on.

But as fate would have it, your return wasn’t met with a sweet reunion, it was met with a delay. Dino’s solo music video shoot had gone overtime by hours, and the remote filming location left you stranded at a countryside bus stop nearly 100 kilometres outside of Seoul, your phone at 8% and two ridiculously heavy suitcases at your feet.

That’s when Joshua stepped in.

“Hyung, can you do me a favour?” Dino had asked him, already half-panicked over the situation. “Can you pick up Y/n? I swear I wouldn’t ask unless I had no other option. She’s probably freezing out there.”

Joshua agreed without hesitation. That’s what friends do. Besides, it’s just a pickup, get her, drop her off. No big deal.

But nothing could’ve prepared him for the moment he pulled up to that dimly lit stop, headlights cutting through the October gloom, and saw you.

You were sitting on one of the metal benches, jacket sleeves pulled over your hands, shivering slightly from the cold. The streetlight above flickered, casting a soft glow on your face. You looked up as his car rolled in.

You stood up, brushing your hands over your jeans. Joshua got out of the car, smiled politely, and extended his hand.

“Hey, I’m Joshua.”

“I’m Y/n,” you replied warmly, slipping your hand into his with a soft shake.

His chest tensed. His body buzzed. That was… weird.

He dropped your hand quickly. “Let me get those bags. You must be freezing.”

You nodded, thankful. Joshua popped open the trunk and hauled your suitcases into the car with ease, while you slid into the passenger seat, rubbing your hands together for warmth. The door shut with a soft thud.

The first fifteen minutes of the drive were filled with the kind of silence that wasn’t quite awkward, but wasn’t quite comfortable either. You both exchanged small talk. Where you were from, how long you’d been with Dino, what your job abroad had been like. Joshua tried to focus on the road, but his thoughts kept slipping sideways to you.

You were bright. Articulate. Funny. And, he hated himself for thinking it, you were exactly his type.

About thirty minutes into the drive, you leaned forward slightly.

“Thanks again for coming all this way. Must’ve been a pain, huh?”

Joshua glanced at you and smiled gently. “Not at all. It’s… nice to meet you, honestly.”

Something shifted after that. You started talking more naturally, about Dino, how you two met during a company event, how you fell for his charm, how the distance had been hard. Joshua found himself asking more questions. Not just to be polite, but because he genuinely wanted to know you better. You shared music you liked. He played one of your favourite songs. Then another. Soon, the two of you were belting out lyrics together as the car sped down the highway.

By the time he dropped you off, it felt like you'd been friends for years.

After that night, Dino started bringing you along more often. And Joshua thought that was a good thing, he told himself it was. You were a great match for his friend, and the two of you seemed happy.

But then there were moments.

Little, almost invisible moments that clung to him more than they should have.

The way you'd both hum the same song at the exact same time without realizing it, then laugh when you catch each other doing it. The way you always remembered his coffee order. The way you’d ruffle his hair absentmindedly when walking past him, like you’d known him forever.

And then there was the dinner with his mom.

It was mid-November. Dino had invited you, Joshua, and a few of the other members to join for dinner at a quiet hanok-style restaurant while Joshua’s mom was visiting from the States. Joshua hadn’t expected much. A pleasant meal. Polite conversation.

Instead, he found himself watching you and his mom seated side-by-side, engaged in effortless conversation for almost three hours straight, laughing, exchanging stories, teasing each other like old friends. Something inside him twisted at the sight. You weren’t just a passing phase in Dino’s life.

You were someone a mother could love.

He tried to tell himself it was admiration. A crush, at most. Something fleeting.

But then Christmas morning came.

His mom was visiting again, and Joshua was making breakfast while she sipped coffee at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone.

“That girl. Y/n,” she said casually, not even looking up.

Joshua stiffened slightly, flipping the eggs in the pan. “What about her?”

“She’s a sweetheart,” his mom said, taking a long sip of coffee. “She was so lovely at dinner. So genuine.”

“Yeah… she is.”

A pause.

“Joshua?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“How long have you liked her for?”

The question hit him like a punch to the chest. He turned fully, spatula still in hand.

“What?”

His mom finally looked up, eyes knowing, gentle. “You heard me.”

“I…Mom,” he stammered. “She’s Dino’s girlfriend.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Joshua set the spatula down. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not judging,” she said softly. “I just know what it looks like when my son’s heart is somewhere it’s not supposed to be.”

He looked away, jaw clenched.

“She was never mine to feel for,” he said after a moment, voice quiet. “It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

His mom reached across the table, resting her hand on his arm. “Feelings don’t always make sense, Josh. But you don’t have to punish yourself for having them.”

He smiled bitterly. “It’s not about punishing myself. It’s about not hurting the people I care about.”

She nodded slowly, squeezing his arm. “That’s what makes you a good man. But don’t lose yourself in the process, okay?”

Joshua didn’t answer. He turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs mechanically, trying to shake the image of you, laughing across a candlelit table, your eyes crinkling just so, your voice soft as you talked about the things that made you feel alive.

He told himself over and over again that it would pass.

But the truth was, falling for you had never been intentional.

It had just… happened.

And now, he had to live with the ache of it. 3️⃣ Woozi: It had been a long time coming for Mingyu to start dating someone. The members had teased him endlessly over the years, but when he finally introduced his girlfriend, a fellow solo K-pop artist, no one was more genuinely happy than Woozi. Mingyu had always been warm, earnest, and loyal. He deserved someone good. So when he said he was seeing someone seriously, Woozi smiled and clapped him on the back.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, during rehearsals for Seventeen’s comeback, that Woozi actually met you.

You walked into the practice room still in sweatpants and a hoodie, fresh from a recording session at your company. In one hand, you held a small bag of food for Mingyu, and in the other, a box of snacks for the rest of the members.

“Hey guys,” Mingyu called out as the music faded. He walked over and took your hand, grinning like a fool. “This is Y/n, my girlfriend.”

You gave a small, polite bow. “Nice to meet you.”

Woozi, seated on the floor beside the speaker with a half-eaten protein bar, looked up and blinked. You looked almost comically small beside Mingyu, but there was something effortlessly confident about the way you stood there, like you belonged.

You ended up hanging around for a bit that day, watching them practice and chatting with the members. At one point, Woozi had drifted off to the side, scrolling through demo tracks on his phone, when he felt someone approach.

“I just wanted to say…I’m a huge fan of your work.”

He looked up. Your eyes were kind, but sharp, observant. You weren’t just saying it to be polite.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” he said, a bit startled. “I really like your songs too.”

You smiled, then sat next to him without hesitation, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “No, I mean it. Especially the songs you’ve written for other groups. The ones most people don’t even know are yours.”

Now that caught him off guard.

“Really?” he said, locking his phone and turning to face you fully. “Most people just mention Seventeen’s hits.”

You grinned. “Those are great, obviously. But there’s this one track you produced for that rookie group last year, I swear, I cried when I read the lyrics. You write about loneliness in a way that’s... painfully accurate.”

His heart beat a little funny at that. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, not from someone who looked at his work before anything else.

“Which one’s your favorite?” he asked, more curious than he expected to be.

You laughed. “How much time do you have?”

That day planted something quiet in him. Not attraction, not yet. Just a budding curiosity. A silent interest in who you were beyond the pop image. You were clearly talented, but you were also passionate, perceptive, and surprisingly grounded.

Over the next few months, you became a familiar presence. Mingyu would bring you around to hang out during rehearsals, studio sessions, even casual dinners. Sometimes, when he was busy, you’d end up in Woozi’s studio, listening to whatever new track he was working on.

You gave thoughtful feedback, pointed out subtle things in his lyrics he hadn’t even realized he’d put there. He’d say he liked hearing your thoughts, what he didn’t say was that he liked hearing your voice, period.

And somehow, somewhere along the way, he wrote a song with you in mind. A track tailored to your vocal color, your emotional tone, and when he shyly offered it to Mingyu to pass along to your company, it ended up becoming the title track for your next comeback.

Now, months later, you were in the recording booth, headphones on, Woozi behind the glass, watching you through the studio window.

“Alright, whenever you’re ready,” he said into the mic. “Let’s try the bridge.”

You gave him a thumbs-up, but he could tell. Your shoulders were tense, your tone just a little too tight. You weren’t in it emotionally, and this was a song that needed emotion.

The first three takes were off. By the end of the third, you were rubbing your temples, visibly frustrated.

“Hey,” Woozi said gently. “Want to take a five-minute break?”

“No, no…..I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” You sighed, voice tight. “Can I try again?”

He leaned into the mic again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You turned to face him, lifting the headphone on one ear. “Do you have any tips? Like… how can I feel this better? I don’t want to let your song down.”

Your sincerity made something twist in his chest. You meant it. You always did.

He hesitated, eyes flickering down to the lyrics in front of him, his lyrics.

“Try to connect with what the lyrics are really saying,” he said slowly. “Sing it like… like you’re living it.”

You nodded, took a deep breath, and read through the lyrics again in silence. Ten whole minutes passed.

Then you looked up, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “This is honestly the most gut-wrenching thing I’ve ever sung. Who broke your heart, Woozi?”

He smiled back, but it was the kind of smile he’d perfected over the years. The polite, rehearsed one. The one he gave when he didn’t want to say too much.

Because how could he tell you?

How could he tell you that you were the heartbreak in the lyrics? That every line he’d written had come from moments when you were sitting across from him, laughing at a joke, complimenting his lyrics, asking for feedback. That every chord progression came from stolen glances, from nights spent lying awake asking himself how he’d let this happen.

That this song was what it felt like to love someone who wasn’t his. Had never been his. And never would be.

So instead, he looked down at the soundboard, adjusted a level, and pressed the button.

“Let’s try again,” he said softly. “From the top of the bridge.”

And this time, when you sang it, you sang it like your heart had been broken too. 4️⃣ Seungkwan: Now, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

When you started dating DK, it took no more than two working days before you met Seungkwan. And from the very first moment, you two clicked. Effortlessly. You were like puzzle pieces from the same chaotic set, gossiping about idols, trading hot takes on comebacks and stage outfits, you spilling your latest office drama like he was part of your department too. Somehow, he always knew exactly what to say, and you always knew how to make him laugh.

You started tagging along to his volleyball games, especially when the other members were busy. He liked having you there, a familiar face in the crowd, cheering a little too loud, yelling inside jokes from the bleachers. But none of it ever crossed a line. In Seungkwan’s eyes, you were the closest thing to a little sister: protective warmth, light teasing, and safe distance.

You were DK’s girl, and more importantly, Seungkwan genuinely adored you, but only platonically. Or so he thought.

Things shifted, almost imperceptibly, when Seungkwan started seeing someone new. You and DK were as strong as ever, fully supportive of Seungkwan finally stepping into the dating pool.

“That’s so exciting! Are you nervous?” you’d asked when he first told you.

“A bit,” he’d said, cheeks pink. “But like… in a good way. She’s cool.”

You even helped him pick out a date outfit one afternoon. You were both at a small boutique after lunch when he stepped out of the dressing room in a fitted blue shirt that clung just right to his shoulders.

“Okay, wow,” you said with a grin, eyes widening in mock surprise. “Kwan, where have you been hiding those babies?”

Seungkwan let out a half-laugh as you got up and walked toward him, fingers reaching for the collar of his shirt.

“Also, how do you manage to misbutton a shirt this badly?” you teased, fixing the buttons like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But it wasn’t. Not anymore.

Because suddenly, Seungkwan couldn’t breathe right. Your perfume hit him differently, not just nice, but intimate. He could feel the warmth radiating from your fingertips. His eyes dropped, unintentionally, to your lips mid-sentence.

He swallowed thickly.

No. Nope. Stop.

He told himself it was just nerves about the date. Just overthinking. Just… a fluke.

But it wasn’t.

That moment planted something in his chest he couldn’t unfeel. Because after that, something felt off. The girl he was seeing? She was pretty. Smart. Charming. She even laughed at his dumb jokes and liked mint chocolate, she should’ve been perfect. But something was missing. Every time she leaned in, he found himself looking for someone else’s eyes. For your eyes.

And so, weeks later, you found yourself beside him on a park bench in the middle of a humid summer afternoon. The cicadas hummed in the background, and Seungkwan looked defeated, not in a dramatic way, but quiet and heavy, like someone who’d been trying too hard for too long.

“She’s not bad,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Like, not at all. The dates are fine, conversation’s okay, sex is… yeah, no complaints there.” He let out a dry laugh. “But I still feel like I have to put on the idol mask around her. Like I have to perform even when I don’t want to.”

You watched him for a second before responding. “That’s exhausting,” you said gently, rubbing his back. “It’s not supposed to feel like that. You deserve to just be with someone.”

He nodded, slowly. “She always wants me to be the mood maker, you know? If I’m quiet for five seconds, she thinks I’m upset.”

“I get that,” you said, turning toward him. “And it's normal to feel frustrated. But love shouldn't feel like a tightrope walk. You should feel safe, like you're home. It should feel easy to be yourself.”

He paused.

You didn’t know it, but you’d just cracked open the truth he’d been refusing to name. His head turned slightly, his eyes landing on you. The way your brows furrowed just slightly when you were concerned. The way you always got it, without him needing to explain. How your voice always leveled him out.

“I think I need to find someone who feels like home,” he said softly, not taking his eyes off you.

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder without thinking, like you always did. “You will,” you said, sure and warm. “That person’s out there. I know it.”

There was a long silence, filled with everything unsaid.

“Maybe even closer than I think,” he murmured, almost to himself, letting out a sigh that sounded like surrender.

You didn’t notice the way he looked at you in that moment, the softness, the ache, the silent war behind his eyes.

Because now he knew.

He was screwed.

Not because he’d fallen in love, that part felt inevitable now, but because he hadn’t meant to.

Because somewhere along the way, he had started looking for you in every girl he met.

And the worst part?

You were never trying to be anything more than his best friend.

But God, you already felt like home. And nothing else could compare.

5️⃣ Dk: You and Joshua were like two peas in a pod, the kind of couple people couldn’t help but comment on. Too good-looking. Too in-sync. Too perfect. It was almost cinematic the way you matched each other’s energy: the way your laugh fit with his timing, how he always knew when to offer his hand without a word. Fans noticed it. Staff noticed it. The members noticed it. And no one was prouder of that pairing than DK.

Because he introduced you.

You had been working with SEVENTEEN as a performance director for a few comebacks now, one of those backstage fixtures who somehow became part of the family without forcing it. You blended in naturally, not just with the production crew, but with the boys themselves. Especially with DK.

He’d known you long before Joshua had. You’d shared several late-night meals with the choreo team and dancers, the kind of quiet bonding that happens when you're exhausted and buzzing from rehearsals. He remembered the first time he made you laugh, really laugh, during a ramen break at 1 a.m.

"You know you eat like someone who’s auditioning to be in the group,” he’d teased, watching you balance your chopsticks mid-rant about lighting cues.

You had grinned, not missing a beat. “You say that like I wouldn’t outdance half of you.”

From that moment, you two clicked. Not romantically, not at first. It was just that spark, that ease that made everything feel lighter.

And so when the group wrapped up filming for their comeback MV and celebrated with a long-overdue night out, it felt natural for DK to bring you along. Everyone was there, drinks flowing, music just loud enough to blur the edges of exhaustion.

That night is burned into DK’s memory.

You had your hair down, casually tucked behind one ear. You were already tipsy by the time he arrived, cheeks flushed, arms thrown around one of the stylists, mid-story.

You lit up when you saw him. “DK! I was just talking about you.”

He had grinned, leaning in. “Hopefully something flattering.”

"I was saying how you’re weirdly good at making people feel better without even trying."

It was the kind of compliment that stays with you.

Joshua joined your table later, and DK, half-drunk and entirely in a good mood, had introduced you with a laugh. “You guys would totally vibe. Y/N’s basically one of us already.”

Joshua had smiled, curious. You’d offered him your drink. That was the beginning.

Within weeks, you and Joshua were an item, soft and sweet and almost annoyingly cute. You brought snacks to rehearsals for him. He made playlists for you. The guys would tease, but it was the good kind, everyone liked you too much not to root for you both.

DK kept telling himself that this was the best-case scenario. Two of his favorite people finding happiness. It should have felt rewarding.

But it didn’t.

At first, it was small things.

You’d show up with a new hairstyle, and he’d notice it before Joshua did. You’d bump shoulders with him playfully during rehearsal, and his heart would flutter. You’d send him memes late at night, not in a flirty way, just out of habit, and he’d reread them five times, wishing the context were different.

Then it got worse.

You started opening up more, becoming a version of yourself that DK hadn’t seen before. The girlfriend version. The one Joshua got to see late at night when you were curled up on his couch, hair messy, voice soft. The one who made pancakes on weekends, who bought matching phone cases, who left notes in lunchboxes.

And DK realized something terrifying:

He didn’t just like you.

He wanted you.

Not in a shallow, fleeting way. But in the ache-when-you-smile kind of way. The I-know-your-favorite-rant-and-I-still-want-to-hear-it kind of way.

At first, he thought he was just being clingy. Everyone knew DK had a naturally affectionate personality. But this? This was different. This felt like betrayal. Because every time Joshua's arm slipped around your waist, every time your head found its place on Joshua’s shoulder, DK’s stomach coiled so tight he thought he might throw up.

And he hated himself for it.

He started withdrawing, subtly at first. Shorter conversations. Less eye contact. He forced himself to laugh harder, to joke louder, like volume could drown out what he was feeling.

You noticed.

Of course you did.

"You okay, DK?" you asked one afternoon after practice, while Joshua had stepped out to take a call.

He hesitated, surprised by your gentleness.

"Yeah," he said too quickly. "Just tired."

You didn’t press, just offered him your water bottle and sat next to him in silence. It made it worse, somehow, how thoughtful you were, how much you noticed even the things you weren’t meant to.

There were moments he nearly cracked.

When you wore DK’s old hoodie because it was comfier than Joshua’s.

When you said, “Sometimes I think you know me better than he does.”

When you fell asleep during a late-night edit, and DK had to carry you to the couch before Joshua came back, standing there for just a second too long, brushing hair from your face, trying not to cry.

He told himself to stop. He begged himself. But the heart is a traitor, and DK’s was louder than his logic.

He even tried dating again. Went on a few set-ups, even messaged a girl he used to be interested in. But it all fell flat. None of them were you.

Eventually, he accepted that the feeling wasn’t going anywhere. And that he would never act on it.

He didn’t have the right.

You were Joshua’s. And Joshua was his brother. SEVENTEEN wasn’t just a group, it was family. He couldn’t tear that apart.

So he loved you from the sidelines. Quietly. Consistently. In the little ways that didn’t mean anything to anyone else. He kept your favorite snacks stocked in the practice room. He stayed late during rehearsals when you were behind on choreography notes. He kept sending memes. He never stopped caring.

And maybe that was enough.

But sometimes, when the room was dark and the apartment was quiet, he’d ask the ceiling a question he already knew the answer to:

"What if I hadn’t introduced you two?"

And then, like always, he’d shake the thought away.

Because some love stories aren’t meant to be yours. Some are just meant to be felt.

[lauluuuuu]

Stuff I remember from the Tiger, Inyo, and Miko centric Supa Strikas comic:

Disclaimer: I read the comic 9 years ago and I only read it once because the website where I read it was down the next day (I remember this so well because I had a dance competition that day and wanted to show it my friend who also watched Supa Strikas, only to find that the website couldn't be reached). I don't have a good memory of the dialogue, but I can remember some of the panels. The order in which I have written the bullet points is the order of what happens in the comic, although there are definitely gaps in my memory (specifically what happens between Tiger's flashback and present day, I can't remember at all how they end the flashback). Please take anything I say with a pinch of salt😶‍🌫️🙏

Images are from @/supa_sweetheart on Instagram!

ANYWHOOOOO LET'S GO!

Tiger and Miko grew up in an orphanage, where they met Inyo. They played football outdoors all the time, and Inyo would only be allowed to stay in her room. Tiger and Miko were younger and smaller than the other kids there which made them targets for bullies.

Not that big of a shocker but still. Tiger's hair isn't dyed, or it could be dyed and he's been dyeing it since he was a kid (I know Supa Strikas doesn't always stick to canon but this was a huge lore drop for me because Tiger's fandom wiki said his hair was dyed red since his eyebrows are black).

Tiger was the first person to meet Inyo. Him and Miko got a football stuck in a tree, Tiger climbed the tree to retrieve it. Inyo's room was right next to the tree, and Tiger spotted her when he got the ball back. He realised that he had no idea who she was, and neither did Miko (the panels for this sequence of events are what I definitely remember best about this comic).

Miko and Tiger started playing with her and also taught her how to play football. They were the first people she had ever interacted with.

In the comics, Inyo is allergic to sunlight or has some similar sort of sickness (this was why she always stayed indoors). If you have watched Eli (2019 film on Netflix), I thought her illness was similar to Eli's, only it's very obviously not supernatural. It's why she wears a hazmat-like suit.

Someone found out that Inyo was going outdoors, and Tiger & Miko got in trouble and were forbidden from spending time with Inyo. They thought they hurt her and they didn't even try to sort things out.

Inyo was upset they didn't even try to talk to her and thought she did something wrong (man, I love the miscommunication trope).

(Post-flashback) When she found out that Supa Strikas would be playing against Cognito FC, Inyo was excited to finally have a chance to talk to Tiger.

Supa Strikas thought Cognito FC was cheating somehow in their game. It turned out Inyo is just that smart, and she said that she hates teams that cheat in the Super League. I was so shocked when she was lowkey using psychological warfare in the show because YES, she's intelligent, but she was supposed to be the only other honest coach in the SL.

I don't think Tiger realised Inyo was the Cognito FC coach until half-time, and that was when he told Supa Strikas of their joint past.

Supa Strikas won against Cognito, obviously.

Their next match was an SL final against Invincible United, and guess who returned to IU... Dooma😨.

He trapped Tiger in a locker before the SL final (exactly like Roblok did to Shakes in 'Roblok wars').

Supa Strikas noticed Tiger was missing but I don't think they were able to put off starting the match any longer, Inyo realised something was wrong when she couldn't see Tiger on the pitch, so she started looking for him (I think Miko was there too, but I can't say for certain).

Inyo found Tiger, freed him, and helped him get to the pitch.

Obviously Supa Strikas won (wow, what a surprise).

After the match, Tiger, Miko, and Inyo were finally able to reconnect.

According to @/clydebeech on Instagram in the comments of the post where I found the images from the comic, Dooma also gets sent to jail (YIPPEE!!!).

Please feel free to correct me, because I'm aware I might have misremembered some things. Or if anyone remembers things I don't please let me know🫠🙏

[cornandahater]

I think a part of why Inho's character's decisions and motives felt so conflicting was the difference in which persona the director and LBH wanted Inho to portray. Because I really do think that HDH wanted a classic one-dimensional anti-hero/antagonist but with a sad backstory [let's not even get into the wasted potential of it but whatever] and LBH wanting to play a multi-layered humanized villain that was a direct parallel to our protagonist. And the clashes between these goals was what led to the butchery of his character entirely.

You mean to tell me the guy who hallucinated his brother after shooting him off a cliff and saving him anyway gives the order to kill him in cold blood showing no signs of remorse? People gave the reason as "3 years changed him!!! He's seen more people die!!!" And how is that exactly related to anything? The ending showed Inho still loved his brother and entrusted him to put that money to good use and take care of the baby, so I can't accept the fact that canon Hwang Inho actually wanted to let Junho die for the entertainment of some rich bastards.

The guy who lost everything with his pregnant wife is the same one who is incredibly onboard with exploiting a literal baby [again, let's not even talk about the fact that Inho's wife storyline was never talked about or mentioned ever again]. The bullshit reason now? "He was trying to save the baby!!!". Did we watch the same show? Even the finalists were willing to go home with their share had Inho not made the baby a player in the games, he then consoles the VIPs that the final games would definitely takes place and less than an hour later he's begging Gihun to kill them all. WHERE is the arc progression???

This is not to blame either HDH or LBH to be very honest, as someone who loved Inho's character, seeing it so mischaracterized by the literal creators felt so disappointing [And yeah, I better not hear ANY criticism on fanfics mischaracterizing squid game, especially not after this shitshow.]

The thing that made this difference super clear to me were the post-finale interviews, LBH constantly mentioning how Inho would go on to have a different set of ideals and realise Gihun actually did prove him wrong, but the ending that HDH gave us kind of just proved the opposite. He abandoned Junhee's kid with Junho [who still has no real answers] and further goes on to dehumanize Gihun even in death, reducing him to player in the games, a horse, not a human. Him giving Ga-yeong the money was not an act of kindness, because Gihun himself didn't spend it because he understood it was blood money.

Having Inho go through all this supposedly to give him a character arc, while we return back to square one where he's still an active enabler/participant of the Games and still cannot see people as anything other than trash to place bets on, just what was the point?

[wooprince]

you forgot to break up with me...

Jungwon thought that your smile was only meant for him.

He thought wrong.

inspired by day6's congratulations

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader

a/n: english isn't my first language, excuse any errors lol

Now you don’t even answer the phone. Jungwon chuckled bitterly, the bright screen displaying the missed call reminding him once again of the growing distance between you. His thumb hovered over the screen for a couple of seconds, debating whether to call you again. Should I? Should I not? What’s there to lose?

Screw it. Against his better judgment, his heart guided his actions as he tapped your number once more. Nothing. He followed up with a text: “Are you free? Let’s talk this out.” Still nothing. Jungwon sighed—a little too loudly—but he was past the point of caring. There was no one else in the subway coach with him anyway. It was almost one in the morning on a weekday, and he was just heading back to the dorm after band practice. Funny how he’d been all laughter and giggles just minutes ago, and now he was back to his miserable self the moment he was alone. This was a side he knew better than to show anyone else... except maybe you.

But now you weren’t there to witness him in this state—to comfort him, to soothe his aching heart. You were the only one who could ever get him to loosen up. And now, you were also the reason he was falling apart, in shambles. You were both the breaker and the healer of his heart.

Jungwon stared at his phone, his face blank, though a thousand thoughts ran through his mind. He was confused and hurt. For weeks now, he’d been replaying the moments you shared, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Did I not pay enough attention to her? Was it because Jay kept asking me to hang out with the guys after band practice? Was it because I was late to our date that one time? Wait… did I miss a week of giving her flowers? But she never said anything… So what was it..?

Letting out another tired sigh, Jungwon brushed his bangs back in frustration, locked his phone, and shoved it into his hoodie pocket. He leaned his head against the coach mirror, feeling the vibrations with every turn the bullet train took. City lights swerved past him as his eyes mindlessly stared ahead—at the energy drink ad on the wall, and at the way the mirror opposite him reflected his miserable, blank face whenever the outside scenery went dark.

It wasn’t until two minutes later that the loud yet robotic voice blared through the speaker above his head. “The next station is Seoul Station. Transfer is available to KTX, AREX, and Line 4. The doors are on the right.”

Just two more stations until he reached the dorm.

Jungwon decided he would just rest until he made it to his station. He was about to close his eyes when he heard it—that faint laugh. He could recognise that sound anywhere: the melodic, breathy laugh, like a whisper carried on the wind. There was no mistaking it—the giggling belonged to you. It was one of the reasons he’d fallen for you, after all. He loved seeing how cheerful you became when you laughed, or how your eyes crinkled in joy at his lame jokes. But most of all, he loved being the reason behind your laughter. Jungwon’s eyes snapped open as the realisation dawned on him. Wait a minute…

The faint giggle grew clearer with each passing second, inching closer, until it was finally inside the same coach as him.

He looked to his side, towards where the giggles were coming from. And there you were, standing inside the coach just a short distance away, your back still turned against him as you searched for a place to sit. Under normal circumstances, Jungwon would’ve been giddy to see you. But not this time… His eyes quickly noticed that your arm was linked with another guy’s hand—someone he’d never seen before. Who’s this guy? What are you doing with him? Why are you holding his hand?

You seemed happy, Jungwon noted. It lasted only a few seconds, yet to him it felt like slow motion, as you and the new guy took your seats in front of him, still unaware of the way he was staring. You still had that same smile on your face, giggling at whatever funny thing the new guy had said.

He recognised that smile. It was the same one you used to flash at him when you first started dating. The same grin you wore whenever he showed up with flowers on your usual weekend dates—and it was always red tulips, because you’d once mentioned that red roses were overrated. He remembered. And he adjusted. The original rose bouquet was immediately swapped for tulips the following weekend, and every date after that.

It was the same smile you’d unknowingly wear whenever he visited your campus, just to drop off the warm lunchbox he had carefully picked from a nearby takeaway spot, because you’d once mentioned liking their rolled omelette. The same smile you’d flash when he sang you to sleep, humming whatever ballad came to mind and somehow turning it into a lullaby as he gently caressed your cheek.

Jungwon thought that your smile was only meant for him.

He thought wrong.

He stared at the two of you, now seated in front of him and still unaware of his gaze. The guy whispered something to you and earned another one of your breathy giggles—your hand quickly swatting his arm as he chuckled. Then, a beat.

Your eyes wandered absently around the bullet train coach before finally landing on the figure across from you, locking eyes with the brokenhearted boy you knew all too well. Your body froze. Then, slowly, your gaze dropped to your lap. You shifted away from the guy—barely an inch, but enough for Jungwon to notice.

Jungwon saw it—the way your smile slowly faltered at the sight of him, how his presence alone was enough to silence you. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Because the way his gaze pierced into yours was enough to convey everything he had been keeping inside. His confusion, disbelief, uncertainty. He frowned, though it wasn’t out of anger. It was more in search of clarity, some kind of explanation for this moment. Why were you there with him—and not with me?

Your eyes blinked rapidly without you realising, almost as if hoping he might disappear if you just blinked one more time. But he was there. Jungwon, your long-time boyfriend. The boyfriend you’d asked for “some time apart” from just three weeks ago, so you could rethink your relationship.

That wasn’t the truth, was it?

Excuses. Your detachment had started months before the so-called break. It began small—opting out of weekend dates, citing exhaustion from university assignments. Jungwon understood, and instead sent over snacks and chocolates. “To help you stay awake when I’m not there,” he’d say.

At times, he’d call you. You still picked up, just with less enthusiasm in your voice, and your replies grew shorter and shorter. He didn’t mind it much at first. Maybe you were just worn out from uni. He tried to understand, tried to justify each action you took that pulled you further away from him. But every time he reached out, it only seemed to push you farther still, until it felt like there was no way to reach you at all.

Things escalated last month—just three weeks ago—when he finally showed up at your house after three days of being ignored. You hadn’t answered a single call or text from him.

“Tell me what I did wrong. I’ll fix it for us,” he demanded, still maintaining his composure despite the growing impatience inside him.

“Jungwon… It’s… It’s not you. It’s me,” you muttered, refusing to look up at him.

“...Right. The oldest line in the book. I can’t understand you.”

“I mean it… You did nothing wrong. I just…”

Jungwon let out a disbelieving chuckle. “You’re saying it’s all on you, but you’re walking away like I’m the one who did something wrong. You sure it’s not me?”

“Jungwon—listen. I don’t want us to fight—”

“Don’t I deserve the truth? Are you sick of me now?” His voice rose slightly, his accusations spilling out.

“Just listen—”

“Is there someone else? Is that it? Is that why you’ve been ignoring me? Because you’ve found someone new—”

“LET’S TAKE A BREAK.” You cut him off. Silence. Jungwon had to collect himself, unsure if he’d heard you correctly.

“A break…?” His voice wavered as he repeated it. You nodded, tears threatening to spill from the frustration.

“But… but why? I thought we were doing just fine… right?”

“...Lately, I’ve been questioning where this relationship is going.”

“I don’t get it… I thought we were happy. Was I wrong this whole time?”

“That’s why I need some time away from you… I just need to be sure. Of my feelings. Of us.” 

Your words left Jungwon stunned. As hurt as he was, he was the type to put your feelings above his own. So of course, he agreed. Some time away from each other might be what you needed to come back to him… or so he convinced himself.

Clearly, that wasn’t the case when he saw you sitting next to this new dude. His replacement. The one you’d rather spend your time with. It was obvious all along… Jungwon was the fool in this relationship. The break in the relationship was simply so you could date someone else in the meantime? What a joke.

The new guy whispered something in your ear again, and you giggled, avoiding Jungwon’s gaze. But for a split second, your fingers tensed around the new guy’s sleeve. Your smile twitched. Almost faltered, before it returned, brighter than ever, as if you were overcompensating.

He smirked bitterly, not in mockery, but more out of disbelief. His eyes lingered on the two of you as his mind became wrecked with thoughts. How could I even move forward knowing what you’ve been doing behind my back? Should I hold a grudge? What was the point of all the time we spent together? Is that new guy so much better than me? Did you have to do that to me?

The bullet train ride felt longer than usual. When the speaker finally blared, announcing his station, he felt a small burden lift off his shoulders. Wordlessly, he stood up, slung his guitar bag across his body, and made his way to the door.

Jungwon’s deadpan stare lingered for one last second on the sight of you clinging to the new guy, before he stepped off the train and walked away from you, both literally and figuratively.

You forgot to break up with me...

[snakeunderyourboot]

the relathionship between Nicky and kiddads is so intresting to me

Like the whole Betrayal arc: did kiddads really expect Nicky to take the whole plan well? Did no one stop for a second and think that Hell is basically Nicky's second home, which stands on the same level as Earth?

Though it is also understandable: Nicky always could go back to Hell and never bother with Doodler's business, if he wanted to. In the worst case scenario, he could run away to another plane while the Earth - and most importantly the rest of the kiddads and their families - would be left to die, from Doolder’s influence. Plus the time difference is also vital: in Hell it's seconds, while on Earth it's hours, sometimes even days. Nicky can spend a week in Hell, while it’s going to be months on Earth.

But Nicky already had Cass and Taylor. Taylor was probably a toddler by the time the betrayal happened. Even with FBI stalking, I don’t think Nicky would just leave: he would trust that with the rest of kiddads he could protect both himself and his family. And then the Betrayal happens, and Nicky realises that no, actually, his friends would NOT help him. If they didn’t trust him with just a part of the information about Code Purple, who’s to say that they couldn’t team up with the FBI if it suited their goals?

And he runs away and he stays in Hell, while years goes by on Earth

And then the plot happens, and the first time any of the kiddads saw Nicky after the betrayal? Was probably that time in Erin’s garden, when Nicky saved clone!Taylor. Grant, who was held down by the trees, probably saw him. What was he thinking when he saw Nicky again? Did he think that Nicky had changed? Did he think that he stayed the same? Did he notice any new scars? Did his attention immediately snap to the missing arm? Did he involuntarily try to free himself to look closer, to see more of his friend?

And then the next time they all meet is after Terry's death, and the funniest thing is that all the kiddads just awkwardly following the teens from the church of the Doodler to Heaven and Hell, and they are just all on the sidelines, watching. Do you think they talked at all while the teens were doing their own thing? Do you think the kiddads keep stealing glances towards Nicky? Do you think Lark muttered a joke under his breath, and Nicky heard it and couldn’t stop himself from laughing? And how he immediately stopped it and turned away from the rest of kiddads?

Do you think they noticed the empty space beside them? But now, instead of Nicky, it was Terry Jr. who was missing. Do you think they felt a sense of wrongness? Do you think Nicky noticed how hung up Grant was? Do you think he noticed how everyone changed? do you think at some point Nicky let his guard down and wasn't holding a sword at kiddaddies? Do you think the kiddaddies noticed how Nicky would stand only on one side, where he still has an arm, so he can still protect himself if needed? Do you think he mourned Terry’s Death? Do you think, if he still had his ability to hop between dimensions, he would follow Terry?

that is to say, while there is enough complicated history between the kiddads, I think, if I threw them against the wall enough times, I could make them friends again. No one can stop me.

[morelostthanwintermoon]

Honestly for a long time I was unable to understand the gravity of the underlying theme of debt and WWX's need for its repayment in MDZS which has been heavily discussed in the fandom, but when I reread this chapter I was able to see for myself where this entire point was coming from.

Chapter 71: Departure

Living in an asian family, this sort of love which feels like a rein on your neck, is all too familiar. The love which is inherently laden with expectations, with scrutiny, which doesn't let you create healthy boundaries, devoid of security, freedom and relentlessly reminding you of the debt which needs to be repaid when you get older. It feels now all too obvious that Wei Wuxian would not be overtly keen to be in relationship with other people, considering he has only known this sort of love all throughout his life. Where people bind him again and again in their debt, because their love, unlike Wei Wuxian's is not given free of cost.

But this is in respect to his relationship with the Jiangs and it ends with JC understanding the coercive nature of debt and realising why wwx never wanted to enforce the same on Jiangs.

However, his relationship with the Wens is also the one which is laden with debt. But the differentiating factor is that unlike Jiangs, the Wens constantly acknowledge and try to repay their debt to Wei Wuxian. Both the Wens and WWX get trapped in the loop of the payment of dues, their relationship becomes an endless circle of thank you's and sorry's. Even wwx admits that whenever he ends a conversation with a person (he means LWJ in the context) with a thank you or sorry, they both meet in a worsened situation next time. While it is certainly true with wangxian, personally I was able to see this play out more clearly with the Wens and WWX.

Chapter 73: Recklessness

Chapter 77: Nightfall

Chapter 111: Wangxian

This one also ends with Wen Ning and WWX going their separate ways, but this one ends with hope of Wen Ning now starting an equal relationship with Wei Wuxian and wwx himself admits that this is what he always wanted for wen ning as well. To walk on his own path, free from his control.

This is not to say that the debt aspect w.r.t the Wens and WWX is particularly wrong. But it was imperative for both the parties to get out of this ouroboros and build a purer relationship, one filled with gratitude, but devoid of the feeling of owing something to the other.

LWJ understood that creating boundaries of sorry's and thank you's doesn't work and often leads to horrific results when the burden of this falls halfway because it corrodes the relationship with unsaid tally of debt. Debt at the end becomes the tool used to destroy beautiful relationships again and again.

[warriorlyy]

ok redeemed beast (shadowvanilla as the main guys bc im BIASED.) au slash idea i had at work and now im going to incoherently put it here before i go to sleep so it doesnt vanish

DEC steals the beasts souljams and for some reason that reverts the beasts to their virtue forms or smth (eg. Smc is fount again) and they have no memory of anything. Essentially theyre back in time pre-corruption

Id like to note that DEC takes the souljams at different times bc shes not fighting all five beastsC she picked them off one by one

This takes place after every ancients awakening btw, so each have had their confrontation or whatever

Ok so plot time. Blapphire n capple find shamilk (now fount so ill refer to him as that now) and are like confused. At first they think its shamilk but realise its not. The convo goes smth like this

Blappire: “master shadow milk cookie…? Are you alright?”

Capple: “that dark enchantress cookie didnt do anything nasty did she… ooogh im so mad that she betrayed us!!”

Fount: “….my apologies…pardon me, but who are you cookies?”

Blappire: “master shadow milk cookie…?”

Fount: “Sorry, i think youve confused me with someone else. I’m your fount of knowledge, not this shadow milk cookie you speak of”

Yeah so they realise something is wrong. After mkre discussion or smth Blappire ultimately decides to get PVs help. Because he knows that despite what shamilk did to pv in the spire, pv still wanted tk befriend him so blappire ends uo deciding that PV is really the only cookie he can go to for help.

So blapphire goes to the vanilla kingdom (he has capple babysit fount in the spire) he disguises himself and manages to get PV alone

He explains the situation, telling PV that DEC stole the beasts souljams. Blappire did actually see the confrontation w DEC and SMC but didnt intervene on SMCs orders. Shamilk was the last beast DEC fought, and as DEC boasted her already won souljams, blapphire knows shes beaten all the beasts and tells PV this and takes PV to the spire where PV is like “oh wow yeah thats crazy wtf” (ok more like “Your words weren’t deceitful… It seems he really has reverted to the Fount of Knowledge”)

When fount sees PV he’s suspicious. Fount doesnt have his souljam and here comes this stranger with something that very much looks like his souljam. Due to the souljam theft /+ spell fount basically is powerless for now, but even without magic, he can see that PVs souljam isnt the same as his (which he believes to be the full souljam of knowledge yk) PVs jam is only half of his souljam, yet it seems so much purer.

PV and founts interaction has a bit of tension before PV explains how he has his souljam. Note that PV is being vague abt shamilks backstory because it just doesnt feel like the right time to dump that on fount rn

Pv takes fount (n the deceit siblings) to the vanilla kingfom. PV summons the other ancients to tell them the situation, bringing fount as a surprise guest to the meeting (ofc theres a scene where someone like WL is like “Shadow Milk Cookie. Why are you here?” *raises staff idk*)

After explaining the situation some of the ancients (DCC, GCC and maybe WL??) are kinda like “well i guess this works, cant we just keep them this way then??” And they have a discussion abt this and its kinda inconclusive

Ok from here i just have vague plot points that occur later(ish) in the story (theyre in order though)

Im pretty sure its been said somewhere that canonically (correct me if im wrong but in this au its canon so ig whatever works) shamilk is kinda physically weak. Basically between waking up as fount and gettinf to the vanilla kingdom and the meeting w the ancients and everything else fount is exhausted. As PV is taking him to his room, fount kinda stumbles and his legs are lowkey shaking. PV asks if hes ok but fount brushes it off/ignores the question, thanking PV for the hospitality and closes his rooms door.

From the shadows Blapphire speaks

Blapphire: “I suppose he is the same cookie after all…”

PV(flinching bc why is that guy in the shadow wtf): “Black Sapphire Cookie, you startled me!”

Blapphire: “My apologies Pure Vanilla Cookie,”

PV: “It’s alright. Might I ask, though, what did you mean?”

Blapphire: “You noticed it didn’t you? How he stumbled, his legs trembling like a frightened cream sheep… and then he just shuts the door. How like him.”

PV: “I did notice… where are you going with this?”

Blapphire: “Master Shadow Milk Cookie would crumble me for saying this but… I’ve got evidence that his dough is actually quite fragile.” (words words words) “Once, on the rare occasion where Candy Apple took him off guard, she tackled him—as she does, like a rabid dog—but as my Master was unprepared, she managed to tackle him to the floor. Usually Master holds his ground see, but this time, Candy Apple caused them both to fall to the floor, she’s not that strong a cookie too, much less when she’s fangirling or what-not. And once they landed on the floor, for a fraction of a second, I saw a crack in Shadow Milk Cookie’s dough”

Basically shamilk is lowkey fragile, but he usually insta heals himself or in battles, just casts an illusion to hide the cracks until he has time to heal himself just an fyi

But yeah pv just ponders on this — shamilk probablt floats bc it doesnt exert himself lolsies

Some plot of smth. Fount gettinf to trust and open up to pv idk idk

Ok this scene takes place WAAAYYYY after any of the above stuff. By now, fount knows of shadow milk cookie and what hes done After running errands or whatever pv sees fount struggling they sit down and chat

Fount asks pv if he prefers him as fount, if he would even want shamilk back

Pv pauses, but ultimately says that he would like shamilk back because keeping him as a time capsule before his fall, before his change, feels wrong. It is wrong.

Fount pauses too, before agreeing. He says that despite knowing what shamilk what HE has done, he feels incomplete, he feels wrong and he also longs for the freedom shamilk has. That even if shamilk has committed horrible crimes, he knows that being someone like shadow milk, free from his responsibilities and pressures of being a virtue, having an identity, is something that he craves

More deep conversation between pv and fount

Pv admits he has an idea of how to bring shamilk back. Fount asks what. Pv suggests that if he gives fount his souljam briefly, that it could give enough power to get his shamilk back — because they share the same souljam, PVs souljam can ‘awaken’ shamilk

But pv admits that hes scared to try. Because what of shadow milks reaction when his memories are back, and he’ll lose fount

Fount tells him he wont disappear. He compares himself to truthless recluse. How deep down, just like PV and recluse, Fount and shamilk are the same cookie, and fount will always be somewhere within shadow milk. Fount jokes that despite how much shadow milk tries to bury him, fount will forever be part of who shadow milk is as a person(cookie…)

Fount asks if the other ancients are on board with bringing the beasts back and Pv goes “lol no” so when fount asks ‘why suggest your idea now? why prepare me to bring shamilk back if you dont plan to do it now?’

Pv says they can do it now. Hes willing to try

Fount asks if hes sure. If this idea works, then shadow milk comes back and he has the souljam. Fount asks PV why hes doing this

Pure vanilla: “Because I trust you. Because I trust him, Shadow Milk Cookie”

This is meant to be a rlly deep conversation rlly heartfelt stuff yk

They discuss more things. Pv worries abt shamilk returning and fount tells him that its highly likely shamilk will remember *this* as in his time as fount now

They do the thing and it works, via the souljam, shamilk is back

Shamilk: “You’re so stupid, Pure Vanilla Cookie…”

Pv: “Shadow Milk Cookie…!”

Shamilk, staring at PVs souljam in his hands: “Handing over your souljam to me after all I did to you to get it… did something happen to your brain after my spire?”

Pv: “The opposite, nothing has changed in my mind Shadow Milk Cookie, I still want… to be your friend.”

Shamilk: “What a fool.”

PV: “What you said before… as… Fount, is it true? Do you recall…?”

Shamilk: “…you’re such a silly cookie. Maybe you could fool me as that soft-hearted moron, but telling such a lie as ‘I trust Shadow Milk Cookie’. Who do you take me for?”

PV: “It was not a lie.”

Shamilk: “Then why lie to me now?”

PV: “…” “When I said I trust you, that was not a complete lie. While I don’t trust your actions, I trust the cookie inside you, I know you, Shadow Milk Cookie. I do not trust most of what you do, but I trust the cookie you are.”

Shamilk; “The Fountain of Knowledge is gone.”

PV: “Not him alone. I have faith in who *you* are, Shadow Milk Cookie.”

Brief conversation before pv asks if shamilk will return his souljam. More conversation the ultimately ends w shamjlk giving PV the souljam. But due tl shamilk being weak still and the souljam being the inly thing giving him energy he kinda half passes out onto pv

They make more conversation as shamilk is crumpled into pv, shamilk giving half assed responses before pv suggests they go to sleep

Bc pv cbb to take shamilk to his own room they sleep in the same bed. Theres conversation here btw where shamilk questions pv abt this threatening to kill him in his sleep

Ok im lwk too tired to continue elaborating but basically pv shows ancients shamilk, shamilk talks, ancients get other beasts back, and they fight DEC win and shadowvanilla kiss the end idk man

[a-sky-full-of-ideas]

Okay so here are some Akram x Carl fics I need (more of) asap

mainly ones in which one of them is (inexplicably) jealous!

Jealous!Carl:

So for fics he doesn’t realises that he is jealous cause he is in love with, he just keeps blaming it on “unprofessionalism” and “just looking out for Akram”

In fics where he DOES know it, he swings back and forth between overtly sarcastic and possessive of Akram to being more distant than ever and overtly professional, people are getting concerned

But what happens ?

A former friend/colleague of Akram is essential to a case (he is genuine good guy) and Carl can’t stand their closeness.

As we have seen Akrams tends to stay a bit longer with the victims (family) and says some encouragement. Carl is unreasonably annoyed by it and everyone thinks his aversion to politeness. But he just can’t stand Akrams focus to be on anyone or anything other than himself.

Akram mourning his wife and Carl feels like a total jackass to be jealous of a dead woman. A clearly so wonderful one at that.

People catch on that it’s actually Akram being the genius and try to persuade him to change departments. Carl does not like it one bit but he realistically knows it might be better for Akrams career to not depend on HIM of all people. Does he push Akram to take these offers as a self sacrifice? Does he threaten everyone ?

And how does Akram react ?

In fics where ehe DOES realise what’s happening I think he would drag it out a bit,both to test, if his theory is correct, as well as to give Carl a chance to just confess himself(which he doesn’t), only to confront Carl in the most inconvenient moment (aka embarrassing for Carl or highly anxious)

If Carl is the angry kind of jealous in the fix it would at some point annoy Akram, just cause it angers, terrifies or otherwise hurt their clients. So he confronts Carl about the unprofessional part in this and asks him what is going on with him and that he should fix it but in his usually matter of fact way.

If Carl is the distant type of jealous in the fic, Akram too would confront him at some point to ask what he did wrong and how he can fix it and pls don’t hate or fire me. “I will find a way to fix it.” Carl has a mental breakdown realising how he hurt Akram.

Jealous!Akram:

I think Akram would not be visibly jealous besides a sad or angry glint his eye that Carl can’t decipher. Taking a step back her and there but overall nothing you can pinpoint as “off”. An Internal conflict. Only if the cause of his jealousy turns out to be a dick (working for the bad guys) he is more enthusiastic to break a spine than usually. His professional opinion of course.

But what happens?

Akram assumes Martin and Carl are a thing bc they live together and raise a son (there is already a good fic for this but pls do more!)

Akram assumes Carl is hung up on James, especially since all the nurses and other people make jokes or assumptions about them being partners, where as no one ever assumes HIM to be Carls partner. ‘Is he not good enough to seem like Carls partner for only a second ?’

If carl plays into the joke it’s cause he is so relieved that nobody assumes Akram is his partner or he would be a blushing mess and this is easier

If Carl is visibly disgusted, he keeps wishing it’s Akram they would assume is his partner but clearly everyone knows Akram is way out of his league. Too bad that Akram assumes him homophobic or at least averse to being gay/bi himself.

Akram sees Carl and his therapist becoming friends and assumes due to their private meetings and flirtatious banter (it’s Carl deflecting and sometimes she indulges his decision to not think)

A former colleague of Carl helps them (not a good guy) (Akrams is a bit too happy about pushing him down the stairs too)

These are prompts aka pls write them!!! Tag me perhaps so I can read them but feel free to use any and every snippet I wrote in whatever combination !!! Experiment !!

[mustyrosewater]

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐊𝐘 - 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖎𝖝

𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6,329

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: returning to the small wyoming town you were raised after a sharp fall from grace, your music career having turned into mindless pop you were forced to churn out by your manager and now ex, a return to home is just what you need, the perfect place to take a break from the life of a pop star, and also to meet some old faces.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: therapy, mentions of relapse, haircuts, a date??

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hello my loves! i know this one was a little bit longer of a wait, just had a little bit of writers block, but I hope you love love love this chapter, some new minor characters getting introduced for yall to fall in love with so I hope you enjoy! thank you all for reading! <3

“And why is it that you think you’re completely at fault for what happened?”

The bi weekly zoom call with your therapist was going just as steady as it always had been, the standard catch up’s in regards to how you’ve been feeling physically, making sure you’d been practising the mindfulness techniques that she employed in order to better manage your anxiety.

Unfortunately it had only been a letter of time before you were forced to tell her about what had happened.

Sitting there picking at the sleeve of your shirt, you had your laptop propped onto your desk and a knee pulled up to your chin as you let out a deep sigh.

“I don’t know it's just.. i should have just said no..” you breathed, resting your chin on your knee as you looked at the little trinkets on your desk all to distract yourself from looking across at the screen where you’d no doubt see your therapist jotting down notes.

She was great at what she did of course, always being a huge help, especially when you were still actively in rehab, having grown to know you quite well by now. 

“Okay, and you don’t feel like those girls were in any way responsible? even though they knowingly pushed drinks onto somebody that they knew was in recovery?” 

Her words had you initially opening your mouth to speak, only for you to close it just as quickly, leaning your head forward to massage your temple.

You always hated it when she had a point.

“Well, i mean, of course. But it’s not like part of it wasn’t on me, this is what i’m striving for, to be able to just function again.” you spoke, shrugging your shoulders and moving your hands as you spoke, watching as your therapist nodded.

“That’s exactly what i’m saying though, honey. You can acknowledge that there’s some fault on your end, but you always need to realise that you are in no way responsible for other people’s actions.” she explained, putting her notepad down for a moment to emphasise her point. “What they did was wrong, and they knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, so placing the blame on yourself entirely is unreasonable.”

Nodding your head, you let out a huff in hesitant agreement. 

“I guess so.” 

Leaning forward in her chair, your therapist continued.

“I want to really work on the inner dialogue with yourself, starting today, i want you to start writing down things about yourself that you like, things that you did that you perceive as a good thing, and when you start finding yourself feeling guilty or shameful, take it out and read it.”

It felt stupid really, but as much as you disliked some of the exercises she made you do, you couldn’t deny that every single one of them had worked so far.

“And this, Rhett, that you mentioned.” 

Even at the mere sound of his name, your ears perked like an afghan hound, your head popping back up to look directly at your screen for the first time during the entire session.

“He took you back to his apartment after this? he was the one who found you.” 

You nodded at her inquiry with a visible tension, anything to do with Rhett was the last thing you’d wanted to bring up, having not spoken to him in almost three days since you’d woken up practically clinging to him in his bed.

“Did anything happen?” 

Furrowing your brows at her question, you tilted your head.

“What, you mean like, did we have sex?” you asked, recieving a nod from her.

You shook your head furiously, holding up your hands as you let out a sound of disapproval.

“No, god no.” you spoke, “we slept in his bed, but we didn’t do anything.”

Explaining it felt like sharing some shameful secret, as if two consenting adults sharing a bed was against the law, but after pushing so hard against him, hating him so harshly and then making an immediate jump to sleeping in his arms, you just felt like a hypocrite.

“And does he mean anything to you?” 

Her question had you once again opening your mouth, preparing yourself to insist that he didn’t mean anything to you at all, but as you did, you found it shutting once more for a moment before you answered.

“I don’t know.” 

-

The weather was unforgiving on this particular day, a horrible day for your father to be out in the barn tinkering with his truck, but it seemed to be his favourite thing to do with his free time, so occasionally reminding him to stay hydrated by bringing him a cold drink every now and then seemed the best thing for it.

Your session with your therapist had left you more rattled than you expected, airing out things you hadn’t even been aware of yourself, so it felt important to keep yourself fairly relaxed and anxiety-free for the day.

Inside the house, you had one of your guided meditation tracks going as you sat on your bed, keeping your eyes shut with your headphones on. 

The promise of relaxation was always beautiful in theory, but in practice it was almost never fully realised, especially when your track was interrupted by the sound of a text message coming through. 

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you opened up the text message, not entirely sure what you were expecting at first, but sudden realisation hit you like a tonne of bricks when you saw a text message from Niki of all people.

God, it’d been nearly a week and a half since you last spoke to him, having done an accidentally shitty thing and not texted him at all since your shared meal at the rodeo.

If he was annoyed about it, he certainly didn’t show it, texting you as if it was any other time.

‘hey pendeja, what you been up to?’

The reminder of Niki and his presence in your life had brought an unfamiliar sense of anxiety in your stomach; even if you were establishing some form of a flirty back and forth, something about it felt wrong all of a sudden.

It took you all of an hour to actually text him back, procrastinating and avoiding it by taking a shower and making something to eat for lunch, but eventually you knew you had to respond, doing so as you were sitting out on the front porch with your hair in a towel.

The way there was so much dread involved purely in sending a text message felt like it made no sense, but you were almost finding yourself hoping he didn’t reply at all.

‘trying to force myself to eat and sleep, you know, the usual.’

At least that part wasn’t a lie, that’s exactly what it had been like since the incident at the bar, it felt like being stuck in a weird limbo where you didn’t know what to do, doing everything as if you were on some weird auto pilot.

Whether it was the guilt eating you up, or the sudden tidal wave of confusing feelings, you weren’t sure, it could easily be both.

Just as he hadn’t seemed to try to contact you any further since the bar, Rhett obviously hadn’t told anybody about what happened, he and Perry were the only ones that knew that at least had a direct line to your father. 

If Rhett wanted to snitch, he hadn’t done so.

Montana hadn’t done anything other than post a tagged photo on her instagram, flooded with the uncomfortable selfies she’d made you take with her friends.

Clearly her motivations for even inviting you out at all were now coming to light.

Removing yourself from the tag was all you could do, but some of the damage was already partly done. 

All you could do was hope and pray that no news outlet was able to discover the photos, run some stupid exposé about how you were back to your old ways. 

Just as you were sitting there chewing on your lip and staring out into the driveway that was now bathed in an orange glow of the sun beginning to set, your phone vibrated once more.

Another response from Niki, just as you’d expected.

‘same here, lol. i just wanted to see if maybe you were free on friday night?’ 

The text made dread fill your stomach as you read it, but you just had no idea why.

Of course you were attracted to Niki, that much was obvious, he was a total catch, why wouldn’t you be?

The feeling of guilt without a recognisable source was overwhelming, no idea why the idea of pursuing Niki suddenly felt like a lost cause.

As much as it was a rude thing to do, you left his text message on read, something that you’d always hated when it was done to you, especially when it had been by your ex not messaging you back when you’d ask what he was doing with his many late nights, especially after you realised what he was really doing during those late nights of overtime.

Putting your phone down, you dragged your hands across your face and let out a deep sigh, groaning in some attempt to verbally let out the stress.

Considering that you’d taken this entire trip back to Wyoming in the first place to get rid of your stress, you were so far doing a horrible job.

-

Travelling with your father into town the next morning was a good option to get out of the house, especially considering that you were well overdue for a haircut, your roots had grown out and your ends were split, the job that your hairstylist back in LA had done was only going to blend for so long.

Putting the truck in park, your father reached around to the back seat to ruffle through his things, turning his head back to you.

“You just gonna go to the salon and make your own way home?” he double checked the plan you’d given him, ensuring he understood what you wanted to do.

Nodding your head as you unbuckled your belt, you opened the car door and stepped out in unison with your father.

“Yeah, just might take awhile at the salon, i don’t wanna keep you waiting.” you explained, your father giving you a look of initial hesitation which was fine before you’d even taken the time to spot it.

“Alright well, just call me if you get stuck.” 

“I’ll be fine daddy, i’ll be able to get bus or an uber or something, i’ll see you later tonight.” you spoke as you walked around and gave him a quick hug, only for him to ruffle your hair as you stepped away, swatting away his hands.

“Hopefully with a nicer head of hair.” he joked, only for you to roll your eyes.

“Love you.” you sighed, turning to walk away and head in the direction that you knew the salon was at, having passed it a few times while driving through town.

With the time being around 4:30, there was only two stylists inside when you swung the door open, one of which was currently in the process of a blowout, the other was currently at the receptionist counter looking bored out of her mind.

Her hair was a hue of cherry red, styled into victory rolls with the rest of her hair falling free, tattooed arms and pencil skirt, looking like she’d fallen right out of a rockabilly magazine. 

When the bell rung as you stepped in, her eyes lifted from the computer and she smiled brightly at you. 

“Welcome in, darlin’.” 

Her southern drawl was comforting, in a way that was motherly, sort of like Dolly Parton.

She must have been in her late 40s or so, a few lines on her face that portrayed her age, with beautifully executed winged liner and red lipstick.

Honestly she was gorgeous.

“Hey.. I don’t know if you guys take walk in’s..?” 

At the mention of walk in’s, she made a relieved face and walked around the counter, immediately taking your shoulder and guiding you towards one of the many chairs with a mirror set on the wall in front of it.

“I’m so glad you came in, I was about ready to put myself outta my misery.” she gushed, gesturing with her thumb to the hair stylist conducting a blow out with her thumb.

“I can only hear about his hookups so many times.” she joked, only for a male hairstylist to turn off the blow dryer and give her a look, his hand coming to his hip.

“What was that bitch?” he snapped, but you could see the smile on his face which was immediately shared by the red head, playfully flipping him off with her gel manicured nails.

“Nothing, just telling her how much of a slut you are.” 

Already, the casual vibe of the salon had you immediately at ease, in comparison to the whisper and gossip shared between the stylists back in LA, this was already a harsh improvement.

As soon as the red head stylist began to run her fingers through your hair, you could have shut your eyes and let out a moan, the feeling of her nails running over your scalp felt like heaven.

“What are we thinking today?” she enquired, looking at you through the mirror with a soft smile that made you feel an immediate sense of safety.

“I think i just want my roots touched up, i’ve let them go for way too long, maybe just a few layers? got a lot of old energy to let go of..” you joked, only for her to nod her head in understanding.

“I hear that.” the male stylist piped up, which had you turning your head and laughing softly.

“Of course, honey, we can do that.” she nodded, stepped back over to the counter for a moment before turning to you. “You want anything to drink, water? coffee?”

Shaking your head, you let her walk back over and out the cape around your neck.

“You don’t look familiar, are you new in town?” she spoke as she began to brush out your hair slowly, taking care not to tug on the knots too harshly as she did.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, you shrugged.

“I suppose so, i was born here, but i haven’t been back in almost five years.” you explained, “a lots changed since i’ve been here, so it feels like a whole new place anyway.”

“Well, even if we’ve only just met, it’s good to have you back, darlin.” she joked, sharing a mutual laugh with you as she patted your shoulder and stepped away to start mixing up some colour.

As the other stylist finished with his client and settled it out at the till, he stopped as he was walking back over to his station and paused behind you, looking at you in the mirror with furrowed brows.

Holding up his hand to point a finger, he pursed his lips for a moment.

“Wait a damn minute..” he said softly, turning back to the counter for a moment and grabbing a magazine which he seemed to look back and forth between it and you.

A shy smile came to your face as you realised exactly what was happening, watching as shock over took his own face.

“Oh my god, i knew i recognised you!” he announced with glee, sauntering over to you and putting a hand on his chest as he rested his other on the back of your chair.

While normally you would be trying to shy away, the relative ease that you were already feeling with these stylists just had you laughing and holding your hand up to get him to calm down.

“I only just watched a re run of your performance at the BET awards last week, that song you wrote, you know the one-“ 

He stopped for a moment to do a little dance and sing the lyrics of one of the last most recent songs you’d released just under 5 months ago, causing you to laugh as he sang it to himself.

“Girl, it changed my life, when you released that single with Doja Cat i about fell outta my chair.” 

He leaned forward to give you a quick hug, which you returned with a hand on his arm as you laughed.

He also seemed to be about in his 40s, a few purposefully placed grey streaks in his dark hair and glasses, tanned skin that made him look gorgeous.

“What’s happening here?” the other female stylist returned, mixing colour in a little black bowel with a brush which she set down and came to stand behind her coworker, the pair of them looking at you through the mirror. 

“Naomi, don’t you know who this is?” the male stylist spoke as he gestured to you, so that was her name, Naomi.

“My client?” she spoke, only for the male stylist to let out a sigh and reach for the magazine he was holding previously, holding it up and gesturing back to you.

God, you remembered the day you did the shoot for that cover, the outfit they put you in was made almost entirely of latex and it was the middle of summer, you almost got heatstroke.

Naomi’s face seemed to concentrate for a moment before realisation hit her and she turned to you with a surprised look.

“Doing your hair has just become a much more high pressure task.” her joke has the male stylist waving his hand and laughing, a small chuckle leaving your lips as she returned to standing behind you completely.

“Honestly, i have no expectations, i honestly just need a change.” you mused, shaking your head.

With saying that, a look of concentration appeared over Naomi’s features as she looked at you in the mirror and began to hold your hair up in certain directions.

“Have you considered the big chop?” she offered, which had you tilting your head. “Well, your hairs almost down to your waist baby girl, if you wanna let go of old memories, that’s the best way to do it.”

Initially, the idea scared you, but the more you thought about it, the idea of shorter hair was growing in you more and more every second you thought about it.

“It doesn’t have to be massive, maybe juuust..” Naomi paused as she lined her fingers up to just below your shoulders, showing that you could still have it long, but just get rid of almost a third of it at the same time.

Pausing for a moment, you considered it, words of reinvention from your life coach echoing in your mind as you stared at yourself, eventually letting out a slightly nervous sigh, before nodding.

“Let’s do it.”

“Sutan, get me my shears.” Naomi spoke, to which the male stylist who you now knew as Sutan, nodded his head.

-

By the time you were halfway through the process, your hair was covering the ground and a fresh layer of colour was processing on your head.

Sutan had taken to putting on one of your songs through the bluetooth speaker in the salon and was actively using a hair brush as a microphone, his lip syncing keeping you smiling and laughing throughout the entire time.

Naomi was fiddling around with the foils on your head and occasionally sending Sutan a look of playful non serious judgement.

“So what happened to that boyfriend of yours?” Naomi started, “All i heard was that there was a settlement, but nothing else.”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a huff.

“Caught him in bed with my makeup artist.” you spoke flatly, only for Sutan to gasp behind you and turn suddenly.

“Shut up.” he mused, which brought a chuckle out of you as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know how long it was going on for, but needless to say, he’s not my producer, or my boyfriend anymore.” 

Nodding satisfactorily with your words, Naomi put her brush down.

“Good, if it had been me, his tires would have been slashed.”

Hearing that, Sutan piped up.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Allegedly.” Naomi rebutted with a smirk, patting your shoulder, “Just gotta let you process for a bit, then we’ll rinse, i’m gonna run out and get something to eat really quick.”

“Can you get me a latte?” Sutan requested, only for Naomi to raise an eyebrow.

“Are you gonna pay for it?” she queried as she stood up and reached behind the counter for her purse.

“I’ll get you back for it.” Sutan groaned, rolling his eyes as it was obvious.

Even if she didn’t say anything, Naomi pointed a warning finger at him before leaving through the front door and heading across the road to the take out place that you’d seen a few times already.

By the time you were finished in the salon, with your hair rinsed and dried, you felt like an entirely new person, weight off of your shoulders both figuratively and literally.

When you’d paid at the counter, Sutan had given you a hug and proclaimed that you’d better come back and let them do your hair, even when you were back in LA.

Naomi had waved goodbye to you as you exited with a ring of the bell, having promised that you’d always have a spot in her chair.

It almost broke your heart just how beautiful the people here were, small enough of a population to where everybody knew each other, it’s was like just one big massive family.

Just as the thoughts of how you didn’t deserve this began to creep their way into your brain, you willed them away with a small shake of your head and focused on getting an uber back home. 

-

By the time you returned home, it was almost 6pm, walking down the driveway after being dropped off only to see a truck parked in the driveway that you didn’t recognise, at least not at first. 

Upon getting closer and walking past it in order to get to the front door, you realised who the truck belonged to, Royal.

Must have been visiting your dad, it certainly wasn’t abnormal at least, or even just if it was to talk business, there were a lot of reasons that Royal might be stopping by.

You continued to play with your hair as you walked up the stairs, admiring the fresh feeling of ends that were no longer split and dead, as well as the overall softness that always seemed to follow a salon visit.

The change in colour, though minor, was enough to have you feeling like a brand new person; you supposed whoever had started the rumor that hair holds energy was correct, cause the cut had left you feeling lighter all together.

Swinging the door open, the first sight to greet you was your father sitting at the dining room table directly in front of you in the kitchen, a mug in his hand and a smile on his face.

Across from him was Royal, just as you’d expected, the pair of older men laughing about some sort of old story that only the two of them could recall.

As quickly as the sight warmed your heart, your heart skipped a beat as you stepped further into the room and realised there were three more heads at the table.

Perry and Amy were sat next to each other on the table, Amy nursing a small cup of juice as Perry sat there smiling at his dad and the recollection of a fun time in his youth.

Rhett’s arms were crossed, also watching the two men, his gaze was the first to fall on you when the door shut, quickly followed by your dad who let out a whistle when he saw your new hair.

“Look at that!” he spoke, nodding his head in approval as you stood next to him and leaded down to lay a kiss on his cheek. “Very nice, Ducky.” 

He’d always loved it when your hair was shorter, closer to the way your mother always cut it, so when you’d let it start to grow out after you left, he’d made comments about how it didn’t feel like you anymore.

These comments were used against you by your ex, the way he’d convinced you that your father was trying to sabotage your career because he wanted you back.

You could recall his words like they were yesterday. You’d be standing in the kitchen trying to catch your breath after an argument over the phone and he’d stood across from you with his arms folded.

While you’d wiped your tears, he made no effort to comfort you, only sipped on his coffee and let out a sigh.

”You can’t let him take it out on you like that.” he’d spoken, which made you furrow your brows.

“I shouldn’t have yelled, jesus, what’s wrong with me.” your voice broke as you wiped your face with your hand.

“What does he expect? he was being so passive aggressive.” he shrugged, putting down his cup and walking to stand in front of you. “He’s getting in the way of your career, baby, you’ve got important things going on right now and he knows that.” 

His words were carefully phrased, they always were, planting seeds of doubt to push you away from everybody except him, he’d made it so that all answers led to him, all paths lead you back into his arms.

It wasn’t even cause he loved you, he wanted to control you.

It was Royal’s voice who brought you back from your memory, breaking out of your trance as he smiled across at you. 

“Look’s great, sweetheart.” 

Giving him a thankful smile, you couldn’t help but run your hand through it as you put your bag down.

“It’s a bit of a change.” you breathed softly with a laugh, “But it was needed.” 

Amy was smiling at you when you made eye contact, which you returned with a small wink which had her hiding her face behind her glass shyly.

When you turned to look at Rhett again, his eyes had remained on you the entire time, but he’d said nothing, his expression remaining indifferent as he sat there with his arms crossed. 

Turning your gaze back to Amy, you stopped at the bottom of the stairs and jerked your head. 

“Let’s leave these boys alone, huh superstar?” you offered, which had her looking over to Perry for permission which he promptly returned with a small nod. 

Holding out your hand as she got up and ran over, you took her small one in your own and began to walk up the stairs, sparing one more shared glance at Rhett as you disappeared onto the next floor. 

Amy sat on your bed as you went through your wardrobe, asking occasional questions with the topics ranging from tours you’d done to music videos you’d filmed.

“It was really hot that day, and they had me wearing a really thick outfit, so I nearly got heatstroke.” you laughed as you explained the story of your almost heatstroke incident while touring in spain, which you could remember as clear as day.

You could also remember trying to extend glances at your manager to beg for help, only to see him consistently glued to his phone in the wings, or gone altogether.

But of course you left that part out as a conveniently missed detail.

Pulling a box out of the wardrobe, you sat next to Amy on the bed and undid the clasp, opening the lid to reveal your small jewellery collection, amassed of pieces you’d been given by designers who you’d grown close to over the years or bought yourself.

Sifting around the pieces as Amy looked over them in awe, you found what you were looking for and pulled out the small star earrings, a pair that had been in your possession for a year or two, you’d done promotion for the brand and they let you keep some of the pieces you’d done for the photoshoot.

“What do you think?” you asked Amy, holding them up to her ears and standing to show her in your floor length mirror.

Her face beamed as she looked at the small diamond stars on her ears, bringing a bright smile to your own face as she giggled.

“They’re yours now.” you spoke, kneeling to carefully undo the earrings she already had in her ears and gliding them onto her ears, putting the small clasp on the back.

Surprise took over Amy’s face, turning to look at you as she ran her finger over the small earrings. 

“Really??” she gasped, looking back in the mirror as you nodded and rubbed her upper back.

“Of course, if you’re gonna be a rodeo queen one day, you’ve gotta have jewellery to match, call this a start.” 

You spoke as if it was obvious, as if you could look into the future and could say with absolute certainty that Amy was gonna be just that. 

Just as people had once encouraged you, the least you could do was pass it on to her.

It was footsteps coming up the stairs that had you putting a finger on your lips and smiling at her softly.

“Don’t tell your dad.” you whispered to her, which had her nodding with a small giggle.

“If he asks, tell him you stole them.” you joked, laughing with Amy as you watched a figure appear in the doorway out of the corner of your eye.

You expected it to be Perry, even Royal maybe, but you hadn’t prepared for it to be Rhett standing in your doorway, your face falling slightly as you caught his eye.

You hadn’t spoken, which left where you both stood with each other all the more uncertain, unsure if you were meant to just pretend that nothing had happened or not.

“Dad says time to go.” he nodded to Amy, who frowned slightly, turning back to you to give you a tight hug which had you letting out a small “Oomf.” before returning it with a small chuckle.

“I’ll see you soon, rodeo queen.” you spoke softly when she pulled away, and watched her run past Rhett and heard her walking down the stairs. 

Raising from where you kneeled, initially you and Rhett stood there in silence looking at each other.

You opened your mouth, only to realise you had absolutely no idea what you were gonna say, promptly closing it when you couldn’t think of any words to come out.

Leaning on your door frame, Rhett cleared his throat, taking a moment to scan over your room with his eyes, before turning back to look at you.

“You been okay?” 

It was the first word he’d spoken to you in days, but it still felt good that it was paired with some semblance of care for you, his eyes seeming to frame themselves with genuine concern. 

Nodding your head, you let out a small sigh and offered him a smile, which even if he didn’t return, you saw the way his eyes took on a small bit of softness.

“Yeah.” 

There wasn’t really any need to joke around with him, respond in some cliche small talk way, you knew all he needed to know was that you were feeling better. 

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, he nodded his head. 

“I like your hair.” 

You breathed out a laugh at his comment, your gaze turning to the mirror for a few seconds to look it over again and play around with it with your right hand, pushing a piece of it behind your ear.

“Yeah, well, they say hair holds memories..” you started, turning to look back at him. “God knows i’ve got a hell of a lot of memories to try and get rid of.” 

His face took on a new look, one you hadn’t seen before, at least not directly, similar to that look of guilt that he’d given you after your argument following the medication when he’d stormed out, like he was holding responsibility for something. 

As he opened his mouth, it’s like you could feel the “I’m sorry.” coming out of his mouth before he even got to the first word, cutting him off.

“Don’t worry about it..” you laughed softly, “you’re only at fault for like.. 5% of my issues..” you joked, which had him hanging his head and letting out a breathy laugh.

“I guess that’s comforting to hear?” he spoke like he was unsure about it, which only had you laughing a bit more as you took a step closer to him. 

“It should be.” 

With that, you and Rhett were once again left in a silence that was only now slightly more comfortable and lighter, still an air of unsureness as you stared at each other, much closer now than you were when he’d entered the room. 

Turning your head slightly to the left, you struggled with the eye contact, something you shouldn’t struggle with considering the amount of interviews you’d had to do over the years, but something about it being Rhett’s baby blues looking back at you made you feel insecure in a way that you hadn’t felt since high school.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” You asked while looking away, turning back after speaking to see Rhett seemingly struggling with the topic just as much as you were.

“Is there much to talk about?” he rebutted, which had you huffing softly.

“Well, yeah..” you sighed, “I guess we’ve got some shit to air out.” 

Taking in a breath, Rhett’s hand raised to run his fingers over his jaw, seeming to be in deep consideration before he shrugged.

“Sounds like something we should discuss over dinner.” 

His boldness was odd, yet refreshing; you supposed it wasn’t entirely misplaced to ask you out to dinner, especially considering you’d slept in his arms and he’d seen you half naked at this point.

Any more animosity between you had effectively gone poof the moment you’d let him hold you like that.

Didn’t mean it didn’t need to be talked about. 

“Is that your way of asking me on a date?” you enquired, watching him as he shrugged.

“It’s my way of asking you to have dinner with me, date or not.” he responded, the small smile peeking at the corner of his mouth telling you that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Sometimes you truly did forget that he was a ladies man and had been since highschool.

“Alright then, dinner.” you agreed, turning for a moment to grab your phone off of the bed and step back over to him while holding it out.

“Text me and smooth out the details.” you directed, which he went ahead and did without question, punching his number into your contacts and naming himself. 

Handing your phone back, Rhett offered you the first proper smile he’d ever given you, you were pretty certain of that at least.

Smiling back, you reached out a hand and lightly pushed on his chest, getting him out of your door frame, which he let you do, stepping back and keeping his arm crossed. 

“Drive safe, I’ll see you when I see you.” you spoke with a narrowed gaze, watching as he shook his head and smiled, all before turning and heading back down the stairs, which you leaned on your door frame and watched until he disappeared from view.

Shutting your bedroom door, you leaned your forehead against the wood for a moment and let out a soft groan.

What the fuck were you doing. Less than a week ago, you could have killed Rhett Abbot with one glare alone, now the pair of you were making dinner preparations. 

It wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for you to have highly fluctuating emotions and feelings towards people, something you’d spoken about with your therapist in detail for a couple of years now; you changed like the weather, it had been that way since you were young.

Turning around, you walked to the bed and sat down, listening to the sound of trucks pulling out of your driveway in the distance, staring at the patterned blanket on your bed and tracing it with your eyes until the sound became so distant it disappeared all together. 

Some part of you so clearly wanted to be around Rhett, spend time with him and just genuinely felt happier when he was around, the other part of you still held you back, that little voice in your head putting you down for feeling this way about someone who’d been such a horrible way toward you, considering yourself a coward for doing so.

Just as you felt yourself starting to dwell on it far more heavily than you wanted to, the buzzing of your phone paired with the chiming of a facetime call pulled you out of your own thoughts.

Amanda’s photo flashed across the screen, her face being enough to calm you down thoroughly; she was exactly the person you needed to speak to right now, to give you the guidance you needed.

Sliding your finger across the screen, you smiled as the call began with the small thrum of the answer sound, readying yourself to fill Amanda in on everything that had been happening.

The look you saw on her face as she came into view was anything but happy, if anything she looked stressed. 

Your own smile fell, anxiety filling your belly as she let out a deep sigh.

“What’s wrong?” you enquired, so many different things flowing through your head, getting worse and worse as your mind played.

“We have a problem.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @foreverchangingmind . @tsukikyo . @marsupialnoises . @iknowrocknroll . @astromilku . @dragoste-lunes . @articel1967 . @jonnybernthalslover . @chili4prez . @cosm-0-nauts . @its-just-me-rin . @cultof-saints . @amazingishlivy . @badbishsblog . @jules420 . @allhailbuckybarnes

[dykespirk]

I know that STID is not many people's favourite movie (outside of #that scene which still kills me), but like it is such a masterpiece on who jim kirk is

like he is someone who trusts and loves deeply when he does, but he's never really had the opportunity his whole life before he joined sf

he loved his brother sam, but in the end even he left because he just couldn't stay (and other than his mom never staying, it caused jim to believe he's not reason enough for someone to stay) and frank was an asshole doing a lot of damange to his self worth (him shouting you're a nobody and talking so condescendingly when sam was leaving in the deleted scene) and like jim has a huge problem with people in positions of authority, which must ave been greatlyyyy exacerbated by tarsus (I think it happened in this universe too) and in general his low self esteem, believing he's unlovable (when he says that is soo weird to gaila, just screams that way to me) and other multitude of issues

and then he finds bones and spock and the rest of the crew who he trusts and loves and would do anything to protect and then imagine spock kind of betraying his trust but not exactly because spock wouldn't deliberately do that which must have hurt like a bitch and then he loses his ship because he was doing the right thing which must have been even more ironic and then he loses one of the only father figures in his life, the first person he trusted and who trusted him back (I can write a whole essay about him and pike I'm insane about them) and then he chooses to trust starfleet by trusting admiral marcus and following his orders even though he later realises the feeling in his gut which has always been there to be right once again and his "I'm sorry" just KILLS me even more than him in the warp core because this is jim mr i don't believe in no win scenarios thinking ohmygod I have just gotten my entire crew killed and his issues with himself rear their ugly head again to the point he can't trust himself because he just nearly got the only thing in his life he cares about and loves and trust almost killed and it was scotty saving the day miraculously and then later on, as his last act of love and protection, he dies for his crew, he doesn't even think twice about it, he dies the way he always thought he would go, alone and in pain and young

and thennn, his family, his crew, saves his life, bones brings him back from the dead literally because he's his best friend and there's nobody he would rather be in space with than jim and spock, (not enough words to describe them) who goes feral at the thought of being in a universe where jim isn't, who nearly killed khan despite being one of the main reasons he was being brought to trial in the first place instead of shooting him with photon torpedoes who must have felt guilt and pain for jim feeling all those feelings he felt pike pike feeling and being helpless and essentially, all of it is just telling jim that he was wrong and his crew stays and lives for him and that he is worth it all and he is just as loved as much as he loves them and he's the only captain they would all want to serve with

[mostly-paper-kind]

Thought I'd share my take on the calligrapher; Lilly is the problem. Okay so Lilly is the person organising the state dinner right, and there's lots of ways she's doing badly at it. But the big one is she can't decide who is going. Like we're told she kept changing the number of guests, it was 100 or maybe 200. And the number of rooms the dinner would be held in. It was one then three, then a tent outside. And the servers said this was a problem as well. Because they rehearse how they are going to serve the meals. I'd also like to argue that the security breaches are part as well, because the social secretary's office was helping clear the people who came into the white house but obviously something went wrong because three people got in who shouldn't have. But the whole problem goes back to Lilly constantly changing who is going to the dinner and where they're going to sit, then St. Pierre tells her to move things around and I'm assuming the calligrapher writes more place cards based on the the changes. It's not super clear how long she has been making changes, but she makes them right up till the dinner starts. There's a shot where you can clearly see the calligrapher is stressed. He literally says it hasn't been a good night. You can see some of the place cards on the table are neat, but by the time the dinner is about to start he's got bad handwriting. Yes, you'd expect a calligrapher to write nice, and the fact he doesn't is just another way of showing hey this really hasn't been a good night. Really there isn't anything suspicious about the calligrapher. The state dinner didn't go well for him just the same as Wynter and Didier and Marvella and the Florist and the Plumber and Elsyie and Jasmine and Sheila and Tripp. The place cards are just another little clue pointing at Lilly who doesn't respect how things are done in the white house.

[lokh]

ive been thinking about this but. i think shuro understands laios' character pretty well, but he doesn't value his strengths or interests (monster knowledge). in the DVD extra where laios imagines what would have happened if they'd been on better terms, shuro STILL leaves because he thinks his chances are better with a trained crew (which....... is likely to be true but. look at how he ended up anyway lmao). meanwhile kabru recognises that while the party isnt particularly strong, the reason they get so far in the first place is BECAUSE of what laios knows about monsters. shuro seems aware that laios knows about monsters or has an interest in them, but views this as frivolous and a waste of time and doesn't seem to realise how much this knowledge carried them in the first place