#I just don’t want to live like this anymore

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this isn’t how it should be. 

your living room is dimly lit, illuminated only by the tv in front of you, and the moon is glowing a pearlescent blue. flimsy strings of moonlight spill over your floorboards, reflecting off the windows, and whatever you’re doing isn’t what you should be doing. you shouldn’t be awake this late, shouldn’t be gorging on sweets before bed, shouldn’t be having a rendezvous with an enemy — shouldn’t be watching movies with your ex of ten years. 

most of all, you shouldn’t be feeling nearly this content.

getō is seated right beside you, legs comfortably spread, popping a macaron into his mouth. chewing it slowly, savouring the flavour — or lack thereof, you suppose. he can’t taste much, anymore; one too many curses digested. or so he says.

this time, he brought pastries with him. expensive ones, you can tell, just from the package alone — a soft pastel pink box, wrapped up in silk, golden letters etched into the front. mont blancs, macarons, two slices of strawberry shortcake. carefully picked, suited to your tastes.

(you aren’t actually too fond of sweets, anymore, but how is he to know? he hasn’t seen you in years.)

”would you like me to make us some tea?”

when you turn your gaze towards him, getō’s wearing a smile. laid-back, the slightest upward curl, tilting his head in a manner you’re far too used to. eyes shining with something keen. somehow, it feels difficult to tear your gaze away from his.

but you manage, turning forward, grasping control over your sleepy vocal cords. ”no, i’m good.”

a low hum. he’s still looking at you. ”coffee?”

”the sweets are more than enough.”

this time, a smile, one you can’t see but still somehow sense. a little bit amused. geto gazes at you with a knowing look, watches you glance at the box of pastries on your coffee table — studying you under the monochrome flicker of the tv-screen. 

”understood,” he finally quips, leaning back into the leather couch, exhaling a little breath. ”eat as much as you’d like. i bought them for you, you know.”

you nod, nibbling at a macaron. not glancing his way.

being alone with him still feels a little awkward. a little tense, to be curled up on the same couch, watching the same movie, just like your old sleepovers in high school. there’s an elephant in the room that neither of you have addressed — not since he first showed up, just a couple weeks ago, waltzing up to your apartment with a plastic bag of dvds after a decade of estrangement. wearing heavy robes, and a familiar smile. asking to be let in.

and despite every single circumstance telling you not to, you did just that. you’ve yet to refuse. 

(satoru would hate you, if he knew.)

so he’s there, right beside you, and you don’t talk about it. not his choice, not your work, not anything except the movie playing on the screen in front of you. this time, it’s one he’s seen before — beautiful, he called it, and for once you think it might be a romance; if the kiss between the main actors is anything to go by. 

you wonder if that’s why he says it.

”say, do you hate me?”

you still. freezing in place, for a moment, discontent but not surprised. he’s always been like this; breaking the illusion of peace before you can find any solace in it. 

you bite back a groan, and shoot him a glance out of the corner of your eye — but he isn’t looking at you. only at the tv, at the two men, holding hands and standing on a bridge in the rain, watching the stars twinkle in the sky. and you sigh, turning your head to look at him fully, parting your lips. your voice comes out frustrated. 

”do you really want to have this conversation now?”

”when else?” he chuckles, meeting your gaze with one brow raised. amber eyes gleaming with mirth, and something else, something less practiced. ”you don’t have to answer. i’m just curious.”

you gulp down the last of the macaron, licking your lips for any leftover crumbs — unaware of how his eyes follow the movement. ”are you?”

a hum buzzes in the back of his throat, a tiny rasp. you wonder if he’s tired. ”i hadn’t expected this, you know.” he taps at his knee with the pads of his fingers, rhythmic and controlled. ”i thought it was just wishful thinking… that you’d let me come this close.”

you feel his gaze on you. it’s heavy, heavy like lead, like a loaded gun. you feel it dissect you from afar, and can’t find it in you to reach for another pastry. 

”… would you have preferred being kicked out?”

”not at all.” a little grin plays at his lips, something in his voice betraying the face he’s making. ”are you avoiding the question?” 

another sigh. you’re painfully aware of how resigned it sounds, spilling out into the open air, already filling with a sense of dread; any leftover nostalgia bursting at the seams. you want to tell him so many things, but every thread inside your mind feels all tangled up.

and, as always, getō beats you to the punch. 

”that’s fine, too.” a brief pause, a twitch of his pinkie. he closes his eyes, a flutter of his lashes, and inhales a breath. ”— because i’ll keep waiting.”

for a second, you consider not taking the bait. 

… then you’re giving in. because that’s what you always do, whenever he’s involved. you watch him in the dark, pale skin enveloped by moonlight, raven hair spilling across the headrest. he looks beautiful, just resting his eyes.

”… for what?” you whisper, and his answer comes without a hitch to his breath.

”for you to love me again.”

…

getō tilts his head, opening his eyes, a golden brown dragging you into their depths. he looks expectant, selfishly awaiting a response, and you’re tired. 

(unbeknownst to you, he resists the urge to intertwine his fingers with yours, to trace every ridge and dip of your knuckles with his thumb. to squeeze your palm like a promise, something concrete.)

when your mind has managed to untangle itself, something in your gaze turns sharp. frustrated, impatient, disappointed, looking at him with a raised brow. ”you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

as fast as it came, your gaze returns to the screen in front of you. monochrome, flickering, two beautiful men. one of them is holding a gun to the other’s temple, and the victim looks appeased. the movie’s almost over.

(how very like him, to find such violence beautiful.)

quietly, you swallow down the bile building up in the back of your throat. a decade of bitter flavours. clenching your teeth, nails digging into the couch beneath you, leather on your cold fingertips. it’s a little peeled.

you wonder why you even bother being honest, when he never quite seems to return the favour.

but the room is dimly lit, and the moon is big and bright, and your ex of ten years is sitting right next to you. in your apartment, on your couch, watching a movie on your tv. when he could, should be anywhere else. he’s with you, and he pulls the words out of your throat without trying. puppeteering your heartbeat.

”… as if i ever stopped.”

silence.

you hear a gunshot ring out. low, muffled, a crackle of static. one of the men falls down to the ground, and you can’t tell who's who. the actors are forgettable, but the soundtrack is pretty. it rings in your ears like a lullaby. 

getō says your name.

it sounds the same as you remember. honeyed syllables, spilling from his parted lips, silky and sweet. he says your name like he’s asking to marry you, and you can hear the smile he’s struggling to repress.

”will you look at me?”

it’s less of a question, and more of a demand. you wonder why he even bothers asking — but you’ve never really understood the way his brain works. never understood why a burglar would bother asking the shopkeeper for permission before reaching for the register, when they’ll be leaving with the money either way. 

and you’re paralyzed, stuck in place on the couch, gaze glued to the screen in front of you. but you aren’t watching, not really, just looking. and you don’t want to see what kind of face he’s making. so you whisper;

”.. no.”

”no?” he mimics, something like a coo on the tip of his tongue, lightly amused. as always, you can feel his gaze, travelling down your face like a trickle of honey. ”and why is that, my dear?”

you bite down on your lip.

a long, long moment passes, and neither of you say a word. he’s looking at you, and you’re looking down at your lap, at your clenched fists. a little meek. it’s quiet, the calm before the storm, and you know exactly what’s going to happen — because it’s already set in stone.

”because you’re going to kiss me,” you exhale, finally, resignation on your breath. ”and i’m going to let you.”

…

for a second, you wonder if his silence means he understands. if he can hear the desperate plea in your voice, if he can translate it correctly. 

but his fingertips graze the lines of your jaw, his palm sneaks under your chin, and he keeps you in place. turning your head to meet his gaze, his amber eyes, dripping with something hungry; something pleading. 

this time, he doesn’t ask for permission. he leans forward until there’s no space between you, tips your head back, and kisses you with bated breath — as softly as he can manage, which is still too intense for your liking. still brimming with desperation, something carnal, like he wants to pour his everything into the kiss but knows he shouldn’t. he tastes like tobacco.

and it’s over. 

you know it is, because your senses are flooded with him, him, him. nothing but him, the strands of his raven hair ghosting your skin, his greedy tongue licking along your teeth, large palms resting on your spine and the back of your head. you’re pliant, surrendering yourself to his touch. he’s cradling you like he loves you, and you feel like you’ve done something awful, because you have.

because you’ve let him come so close, again, invited him inside — inside of your home, your ribcage. and he won’t bother making a home for himself there, because it’s already waiting for him, untouched, between your fourth and fifth ribs.

you never bothered to get rid of it.

(that’s your sin.)

getō hums, muffled by your lips. he sounds pleased. he sounds like he’s been waiting for this for decades, and you suppose that he has. he murmurs praise that you do nothing but swallow down.

everything feels too perfect, too normal, and it’s too much, too much, too much. your lips pressed together, your chests pressed together, your noses meeting in a tender touch. you choke down the noise that threatens to push past your lips, and he kisses you like a starved man. like he’s trying to drown in you.

he only pulls away once he realizes that you’re crying, and by then it’s too late. his widening eyes don’t matter, your cold hands don’t matter, the tremble of your erratic heartbeat has never mattered less. he looks at you with remorse, and it doesn’t matter. 

(he’s yours, again, and you’re his.

you can’t stop crying.)

”… i’m sorry.”

in the background, you hear the sound of gentle whispers, an ending scene. the men are talking to each other, speaking softly, and your eyes burn with tears. geto catches one of them with his forefinger, and leans forward to plant a kiss against your nose. chaste, this time. still mumbling apologies.

it doesn’t matter, because a tiny sob still breaks past your throat — and you know the sound must hurt him. 

you hate that. you hate that you always hurt him, hate that you care, hate that you feel nothing but guilt when he’s around. you hate the movie still playing to your left, hate that he doesn’t hate it, hate that he loves you. hate that you love him, that you probably always will.

you hate that you blink up at him with glassy eyes, swallow down a shaky breath, and kiss him again. hate that it’s still the only thing you know how to do well.

he doesn’t pull away, only biting back a noise of surprise — but he makes sure to kiss you gently, as if you’re made of porcelain, slow and tender, cradling you closer still. he wipes away your tears with his thumb, one after another, and you hate yourself because everything feels so deliriously right.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that what you’re playing is a losing game. 

(he’s yours, and you’re his. it’s already set in stone.) 

[kooqitas]

— svt hiphop unit ★ reacting to 'can you just fuck me?'

you spent the whole day trying to get your boyfriend's attention, tired you just stand in front of him while he's sitting on the couch and angrily asks 'can you just fuck me?'

#notes: i don't think it's exactly a headcanon but i enjoyed writing it… #tags: pwp, smut, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, spit,

⚠︎ english is NOT my first language, i just write for fun, if you don’t feel comfortable with grammatical mistakes DONT READ!

seungcheol!

he is presumptuous when he says a "i've been wanting to do this since morning, but you act like a whore and try to get my attention instead of just asking me to fuck your hole." so he slaps twice on his thigh and you obey at the same time. when you sit, cheol slaps you hard across the face and clenches your jaw. he puts two fingers inside you, and laughs when he sees how wet you are...

the problem with teasing cheol is that he doesn't get satiated easily, so he makes you cum on his fingers, then in his mouth, and on his dick... and even when you say you can't take it anymore he tests you some more saying that you are a his whore who was born to take his dick then gets some more.

wonwoo!

"fuck you? really?" he laughs. "i'm not interested today... play with your fingers, or are you so useless that you can only cum with my cock?"

but you know that this is your boyfriend's joke, especially when he starts taking his cock out of his underwear and asks in a not very polite way if your mouth is suitable for sucking or just acting like a desperate whore. wonwoo is not very gentle when he pushes your throat making your nose touch in his pelvis, not even when he cums making you feel the hot liquid running into you. but at least he lets you play with his cock all you want afterwards, jumping and rubbing yourself while listening to compliments about how you look like you were born for this.

mingyu!

"no, you don't deserve my dick" he says and then in the next second you are on your knees literally begging him to fuck you, he laughs, because the situation is extremely pathetic and he likes it. you suck his dick and when he cums on your face you finally think he's going to fuck you, but he just laughs saying you're too dirty, so he cleans you… with his spit…

and after spitting all over your face he spits on your breasts, taking the opportunity to suck and bite your nipples there, he opens your legs wide and spits several times on your pussy, and then puts his dick in without warning, thrusting roughly, you moan as he slaps yours tits, still red from the bite. and he threatens to stop when he cums, but it's mingyu and you know he would never do that, when he cums (before you), he just lowers his mouth to your pussy and sucks you until you come…

vernon!

"oh..." vernon looks at you seriously, trying to process what he heard from your mouth, but before you ask if you needs to repeat it he is already take on his knees in front of you, pulling one of your knees on his shoulder and sticking his tongue into you, no matter how much you scream that you'll end up falling when you cum, he doesn't care.

when you fall awkwardly after cumming on the plush carpet in the living room, he continues sucking you without any delicacy, and when he stops you don't even have time to complain because in the next second his fat cock is opening you wide open, he spits in your mouth so you can taste yourself and while he fucks you he loves to say that his big dick is widening your little pussy.

⸝⸝⸝

🍰 support me on ko-fi

[ktgoodmorning]

Can't do this anymore

Mapi Leon x reader

You and Mapi are best friends and roommates but there always seems to be something else between you

(I adore Mapi and Ingrid but we’re gonna pretend she doesn’t exist for this)

Masterlist

“Wow, someone’s looking good. Hot date or what?” You rolled at Mapi as you entered your living area. Your roommate layed stretched out on the couch, where she often was, with a book in hand, peering over the top of it with a teasing smile on her face. 

“Yeah, Patri’s trying to set me up with some girl she knows. I’m hoping that by agreeing to this one she’ll quit trying to do this all the time.” You weren’t exactly excited for this date, something made clear by your deadpan voice as you talked about it. You were the token single friend in your friend group and you were tired of all of them bugging you about it, constantly trying to set you up. You only agreed to this one in hopes of shutting them up, something that always proved to be difficult. 

“I don’t get why you’re so afraid of talking to girls. You never know, maybe you could bring this one home with you and have some fun?” she wiggled her eyebrows at you. “I can disappear for the night if you want?”  Her sing-songy voice was a hallmark of her usual teasing towards you, both of you used to the fact that she was the one most likely to bring random girls home while you would panic the second a girl made eye contact. 

Despite your differences, the two of you made the most perfect friends. You had lived together for a few years now, saving on rent while also enjoying each other’s company. You were more of a homebody, often appreciating her help in crosswords or sharing books with her while she was the one who got you out of the house, not allowing you to be too much of a homebody. You were the perfect duo and everybody knew it, being more comfortable with each other than with anyone else. 

“Don’t count on it, Maria. I think it’s safe to say you don’t need to plan on disappearing. I’m just going to go have dinner with her and maybe grab some drinks if it goes well. That’s it.” You gave her a knowing look as you put your shoes on and got ready to leave.

“Keep an open mind, you never know, cari. I’m going out with the girls later but you can always give me a call if you need a ride or anything. I’m not drinking tonight so I’ll leave my phone on for you!” And with that, you left the house, off to meet your date.

Your date was fine. The girl was fine, the food was fine, the conversation was fine, it was all just fine. It wasn’t anything special. You didn’t know her at all, obviously, so you felt like the conversation was forced and unnatural. Something about it just left you feeling unsatisfied, seemingly having nothing in common with this girl and therefore nothing to talk about. You couldn’t quite decide what made Patri think it could work out between you but you were over it, your social battery depleted, opting to end the date early so you could go back to the comfort of your own home. Every one of these dates that your friends set you up on left you drained and even more anxious about the idea of ever finding a significant other. 

When you trudged through your apartment door after not being gone for all that long, you weren’t surprised to find Mapi exactly where you left her on the couch. All she could see was the look of annoyance on your face as you slipped off your shoes and made your way to join her, dramatically flopping yourself onto the couch next to her. “I’m guessing the fact that you’re already home will tell me everything I need to know about how your date went?” Her eyebrows rose as she set her book down on her chest to look at you. 

You shot her a glare in response, answering her question for her. The defender raised her hands up as if to surrender, “hey, don’t be getting mad at me, I’m on your side here.” 

“Ugghhh, I know. I’m sorry.” you sat up to finally look at her. “I’m just tired of this shit.” 

“Why don’t you come out with us tonight?”

“I don’t know, I’m tired and I-”

“Cari, listen to me. I think it could be good for you. You can stick with us the whole time, we won’t make you talk to any girls or tease you about it at all.” You scoffed at her words, knowing how unlikely it would be for that to happen. 

“You’re gonna stick with me? Zorri, I guarantee you’ll have your tongue down some girl’s throat in the first ten minutes we’re there.” Her face feigned shock, seemingly offended at your words as you giggled, knowing you were right. 

“Okay well maybe I won’t stick with you but Patri and Pina will!”

“I don’t know, Maps. You just wanna get laid, tonight. I can tell it’s been awhile cause of the stick you’ve had up your ass lately so I think I’ll sit this one out.” You burst out laughing, once again knowing you were right while she started smacking your shoulder. The two of you both broke into a mixture of giggling and hitting each other before trying your best to calm down. 

 This was the nature of your relationship with your Mapi. The two of you were constantly teasing and bullying each other, both of you knowing the love you held for each other. You saw right through what she wanted from her night out, and decided that you just didn’t have the energy to join her, or more accurately, join your other friends, in their night. 

“Mapi, while I appreciate the invite, I’m gonna stay here. But you have fun! I just need a night in.” You stood up from the couch to retreat to your room, stopping briefly to turn back to your friend right as you reached your bedroom door. “And Maria- don’t sleep with that bartender tonight. I know I said to get laid but I don’t mean her. As your friend I’m telling you, something is off about her, so please bring home any other person instead.”

The defender rolled her eyes at you but you knew she’d take your advice seriously. Every time you went out, the same bartender would spend the entire night flirting with Mapi. She hadn’t done anything wrong, per say, but something about her just rubbed you the wrong way and all you knew was that you didn’t want Mapi bringing her back to your apartment. Maybe it was just the way she looked at her or how drop dead gorgeous she was behind the bar, but it made you slightly possessive over your best friend.

With that, you retreated into your room for the night, allowing Mapi to go on with whatever she had planned and for you to get occupied by your thoughts while you attempted to watch a movie. However, all you could think about was how right Mapi had been when she teased you for being so afraid of talking to girls. You had thought about it some before but could never figure out why you were that way. The only girls you were ever all that comfortable around were your teammates and even so, it wasn’t unusual for you to still tense up around them at times. Mapi seemed to be the only one who you truly could let down your walls around no matter what and something about that didn’t sit quite right with you. 

You couldn’t figure it out. She was your best friend and she had been for years, why would you suddenly be questioning how you felt about her? It’s not like anything had changed? So why should your feelings be? 

The more you thought about it, the more it absolutely tore you to pieces, eventually resorting back out to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea in hopes of being able to get to sleep eventually. You didn’t realize how much time had passed until Mapi was quietly opening the front door, sneaking into the kitchen under the assumption you would already be asleep. 

You didn’t hear her enter, scaring you half to death when she suddenly started speaking to you, “You’re still awake? You okay? Something on your mind?” when her voice broke through your thoughts, you jumped, grabbing your chest as you caught your breath. 

“Jesus, Mapi! You scared the shit out of me, what's wrong with you?!”

“Ay, calm down, I didn’t mean to,” she held her hands up in surrender. “Are you okay?” 

You sighed, unable to actually be mad at her. “Yeah, I just couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t an entire lie, but there was no way you could tell her what you were actually thinking, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible. “I see you’re home alone. Couldn’t find any girls willing to put up with your yapping, huh?” 

“Oh don’t worry, my mouth would have been far too busy to be yapping.” You almost spit out your tea, shocked by her response while she smirked at you, giving you a small shrug once you calmed down. Mapi’s plans for her mouth were certainly not something you needed to be thinking about at the moment. “I just didn’t really feel it tonight, I don’t know.” 

She joined you at the table, stealing a sip from your tea as she did so. “You should’ve seen Patri and Pina tonight, cari. Those two were crazy…” She continued on and on, filling you in on everyone’s antics from the night, while you just listened. It was easy for you to be completely captivated by her as she spoke. You were used to her talking nonsense and you just listening, always getting lost in how excited she got and how her smile grew the longer she spoke. 

Eventually Mapi noticed the way you struggled to keep your eyes open, completely exhausted by the previous day, and helped you up. “Time for bed, you’re hardly awake. Also, don’tbemadatmebut I told Patri about how your date went so don’t be surprised if you hear from her tomorrow. Goodnight!” She rushed out her words, barely understandable, conveniently right before you went to bed and were too tired to actually be mad at her like you would’ve otherwise. Hardly even processing what she said, you decided you could handle Patri in the morning and went straight to bed, finally too worn out to be kept up by your thoughts any longer. 

You slept in late, later than you normally would, hearing Mapi already up and doing things on the other side of your wall. When you eventually emerged from your room, you were shocked at the state of your best friend. “MAPI! What the fuck!” There she was, casually doing her laundry, in nothing but a sports bra and her underwear. 

“Que?” she genuinely looked confused by your reaction, somehow unsure as to what your problem was.

“Since when does laundry day mean walking around in your underwear?!” 

“Well otherwise you can’t clean all your clothes. Cause the one’s you’re wearing are still not clean so you still have more laundry to do. So I figured why not just wash everything?” She acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world while you kept your eyes glued to the floor, worried that you’d get caught looking somewhere you shouldn’t. You could only hope that she wouldn’t notice the slight blush that was rising to your cheeks.

“Mapi, somehow you still find ways to surprise me even after three years of living with you.” You shook your head at her, trying to hide how flustered you were while you sat down on the couch to check your phone. 

Somehow, you’d already missed a variety of messages from Patri regarding your failed date that she had set you up on. Normally you’d ignore her or tell her off for bugging you about always being single, but for some reason you decided to entertain her today. Maybe if you agreed to more of her setups and put in more of an effort, it could get you out of whatever weird headspace you found yourself in the night before. Whatever it was you were feeling about Mapi, you needed to put an end to it and hopefully some more successful dates could be the solution you needed. So in a lapse of judgment, you agreed to meet up with another one of Patri’s friends that night. Her source of single, lesbian, friends seemed to be endless so she was overjoyed when you finally stopped putting up a fight. 

There you were once again, getting ready to go on yet another date that you weren’t too excited about. You were trying your best to have a good attitude but it was harder than you expected. 

“You’re all dressed up,” Mapi raised her eyebrows at you, mimicking the exact conversation you had had 24 hours earlier. 

You let out a sigh, already regretting your decision to do this. “Yeah, I let Patri set me up with someone else, so I have another date. We’re just getting dinner so I shouldn’t be out too late, especially with training tomorrow morning.” 

“Wow, you’re really putting yourself out there,” she paused for a moment, almost looking… disappointed? But the defender quickly changed her tune, doing a complete 180, “You have fun, chica! Keep an open mind and my phone’s on if you need anything! You can always give me a call!”

“Gracias, Mapi! I’ll see you later? Adios!” 

You set off towards the restaurant you agreed on, deciding on walking as it was only about a twenty minute walk and the weather was nice. If nothing else, the walk could help clear your mind before you had to meet this girl for real. 

You were about five minutes early so you were the first one there, leaving you to get a table and wait for your date to arrive. 

The girl was a total stranger to you, not even having her number, only knowing that somehow Patri knew her and set the whole thing up. So you sat with your glass of wine, and waited.

After a while you checked your watch. It was now ten minutes after your agreed upon time. But that was understandable, right? Ten minutes was no big deal, she was probably just running late. You double checked your texts with Patri to make sure you had the right time and place and went back to waiting. 

There you sat, getting more and more anxious for every minute that passed. This is why you hated things like this; dates always just filled you with anxiety. You’d already received plenty of looks of pity from the wait staff, and weird glances from the people dining around you. After it reached thirty minutes past your meeting time, you gave Patri a call which she of course, didn’t answer. 

When it hit 45 minutes, you decided you had had enough. Tears had started pooling in your eyes from a mix of anger, embarrassment, frustration, and anxiety. You shakily got up from your table, apologizing to your waiter and paying for your wine as you did so. As soon as you reached the front door, you saw that it had begun to rain, instantly deflating your mood even further. You knew walking home would be the thing to fully send you over the edge so you decided to call your Mapi to pick you up. 

“Chica, estás bien?” 

“Mapi, can you please come get me?” Mapi could hear the exhaustion in your voice, obviously trying to hold back tears. 

“Si. Si, I’ll be right there, I’m leaving right now.” You could tell from her voice that she was rushing, coming to your rescue as fast as she could. She stayed on the phone as she drove, speaking nonsense in an attempt to distract you until she arrived about five minutes later. 

When you got in the car, she looked at you hesitantly, clearly wanting to ask what happened. 

“Maps, she stood me up.”

“Oh, cari.” Her hold body deflated at your words, “I’m sorry. I swear, when I see Patri tomorrow I’m gonna kill her. Why would she try to set you up with some shit girl she knows? I can’t stand that! You deserve better than that, you know that, right? You deserve someone who will treat you like a fucking queen, and I-”

You interrupted her by setting your hand on her thigh as she drove. “Mapi, it’s fine. I appreciate the sentiment but it’s fine, it’s not Patri’s fault.” The two of you settled into a comfortable silence- both of you lost in thought, unknowingly for the same reason. 

“Thank you for picking me up,” your voice was hardly audible. 

“Of course. I told you, I’ll always be here for you if you need anything. It’s no bother, really.” 

“You’re telling me you really have nowhere better to be than here picking me up from a  stupid restaurant in the rain?” 

“Where else would I be right now other than the couch? Sure you might have to answer to Bagheera, but I think she’ll understand.” 

You returned her soft smile, although your thoughts were more conflicted than ever before. “I just can’t help but think this is more effort that most people would put into a friend.” Both of you were silent as she parked the car, not quite sure what you were getting at. You didn’t quite know either, if you were being honest. Your emotions had taken over all sense of logic and all you could think about was the girl sitting next to you. 

“Let’s go inside, order some takeout, and talk, si?” You nodded and followed her inside, terrified of the direction your conversation would be going in. 

Once you got inside and changed from your nice clothes, you both settled on the couch next to each other. “Hmm, nice sweatshirt you’ve got there.” Mapi raised an eyebrow at you as you sat down, looking down at your clothes in confusion. You hadn’t even realized that in your mess of an emotional state, you had put on a hoodie that was definitely hers, instantly comforted by the familiar smell. 

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize I had it. I’ll wash it and get it back to you tomorrow.”

“Oh no, mi amiga, keep it. I like seeing you in it.” suddenly her voice had gotten much quieter than usual. 

“Mapi, don’t be ridiculous, this is one of your favorites.”

 “No, I mean it. You’re keeping it.” 

You felt tears brimming your eyes once again and tried to blink them away, partially from your emotions from the night catching up to you, and partially filled with appreciation for the girl in front of you. 

“Amiga, are you crying?” 

“NO. No, I’m fine. I’m just tired.” 

“Vale, vale, bien. You’re not crying, I’m just gonna give you a hug, because I want to then, not because you’re crying, because you definitely aren’t crying, I’m just giving you a hug for no reason.” You rolled your eyes at the way she smiled at you, seeing right through you like she always did before pulling you into a hug. Mapi always seemed to know you better than you liked to admit, allowing you to instantly relax in her arms. “You’re adorable.” she mumbled into your shoulder, quietly enough that it took you a second to process her words that she likely didn’t intend for you to hear. 

“What’d you just say, Mapi?”

“Hmm?” she pulled away to look at you. “Oh. Nothing.” Her head shook quickly, as if she had no idea what you were talking about, something that made you smile at her once again. 

“Maps, I know I probably shouldn’t tell you this but I don’t know who else to tell other than you and I just need to get it off my chest.” She looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. “I’m always so scared of girls and dating and all of that.” You looked up at her, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you know that already.” You were met with an encouraging smile as you thought about what you wanted to say next. “But I never could figure out why I was so scared. I just could never get comfortable with anyone and I think I’ve always been terrified of getting hurt if I let my walls down. But lately I feel like I’ve realized that you’re the only person that I ever feel completely comfortable with. And you’re the only person that I’m not worried about hurting me. And I don’t know what to make of that, and it scares me, and you’re literally my favorite person in the world, and I just-” You took a deep breath in an attempt to prevent yourself from getting even more worked up. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

Mapi was silent in thought for a minute but reached out to grab your hand, her way of letting you know that she wasn’t upset but just needed a second to think before responding. When she finally did, her voice was shaky and much less animated than you typically heard it. “You know how I am with dating. You know I’d rather just hook up with people and play around.” This was not at all what you expected her to say, raising your anxiety even further. “I never saw myself being able to settle down. It was always too scary. I’d rather put no feelings into it and just have fun than risk someone else fucking me up. But something about you, changes that for me. There’s a reason I haven’t been hooking up with anyone lately. You were my best friend before you were anything else, amor, and I don’t want to put that at risk.” Her eyes glanced up at you hesitantly, barely whispering out her last words, “But you make the idea of settling down seem easy.”  

If you thought you were confused before, it couldn’t even compare to how you felt now. Your mind was running on overdrive, trying its best to make sense of her confession. You’d never in life seen Mapi look so scared and vulnerable, something that was saying a lot as you had seen her at some major low points. She was hardly making eye contact with you, and was more fidgety than usual- picking at her nails and tapping her foot. 

The defender took a huge deep breath, before giving your hands a squeeze. She could easily see the way your thoughts were spiraling and knew she would have to be the one to say what you were both thinking. 

“Why don’t we stop pretending we still think of each other as friends? Cause I don’t know if I can do that anymore.” 

You looked up at her surprised, just now realizing that she was serious in sharing the feelings you had. “Mapi are you for real? And don’t fuck with me right now, cause I swear-”

She giggled slightly at your reaction, stopping you in your tracks, “En serio, amor. Prometo.” You could tell that she was. Her face was as serious as she ever was. 

“Then let’s not be just friends anymore.” 

You hardly realized the way the two of you had drifted closer throughout your conversation, both of you speaking much quieter, only a few inches apart. “I want to show you what you deserve, treat you like the queen you are, and show you how much I love everything about you.” Both of you were looking all over the other’s face, your eyes bouncing from her lips, back up to her eyes, and taking in everything in between. If you could memorize every freckle in that moment, you would’ve.

“Then do it, Maps.” 

There was maybe only an inch separating you, but for some reason she was still scared of messing it up. "Am I reading this wrong? If I am.. push me away." Your noses brushed together as you could feel her breath on yours. When you didn’t hesitate at her words, she took that as the approval she needed, instantly pressing her lips against yours. The chemistry between you was more than either of you had felt with anyone else, finally doing exactly what you didn’t realize you had been waiting for along.

Hope you enjoyed! Requests are open and appreciated!

Masterlist

[sitp-recs]

Hi Liv! Not sure if you do recs anymore but I read the funniest Drunk!Draco fic last night called How Draco Won Spin the Bottle (and Outed Himself in the Process) by written in ash (?) I think.

Do you have any other drunk!draco fics? I may have developed a new obsession

Haha I love this ask! Drunk Drarry is always fun, here are some favourites:

Tastes Like Soap by InnerLilith (E, 4.6k)

Harry goes to the foam party hoping to finally have casual sex. Draco goes to the foam party expecting yet another night of casual sex. Harry and Draco do not have casual sex.

Born Slippy by dracoladon (E, 8k)

Harry finds that it's less 'one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor' and more 'one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, decide Malfoy's quite fit, actually, and decent company after your friends traitorous abandonment, floor.' With Malfoy lying next to you.

Ferocious Determination, Insufficient Deliberation, and a Slightly Wrong Destination by Faith Wood (E, 9.5k)

All Draco wants is sleep, but his bed won't stop talking. More importantly, it refuses to stop looking like Harry Potter.

Tales of Apparation Gone Awry by @thecouchsofa (E, 12k)

These are the things Draco has recently learned:

1: Don’t apparate while drunk or you’ll end up in Potter’s living room without fail. 1a: This is a Big Problem. 2: Draco is unable to keep his mouth shut while drunk. 3: Pansy is a shite friend. 4: Potter has nice thighs. 5: Draco maybe possibly doesn’t mind his apparation problem as much as he lets on. 5a: Potter doesn’t seem to mind much either

One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore (T, 12k)

Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers.

Party of Two by fireflavored (E, 13k)

Drinking, sex, and a total misreading of the concept of fuck buddies.

Mixed Drinks and Crossed Wires by @korlaena (E, 16k)

Draco is a handsy drunk. Harry is okay with it, really. They’re friends, so it doesn’t mean anything.

Vanilla and Sweet Spices by FleetofShippyShips (E, 20k)

After the others leave an eighth year party, Harry still has the rum he snagged off Dean. But the only person left to drink it with is Draco Malfoy.

Take You Home by @lqtraintracks (E, 26k)

Everybody’s a little fucked up after the war, Draco especially. What starts as hate sex after a night out, eventually turns into something else, something more like comfort. And even though his friends all tell Harry he’s just being used, all Harry’s doing is making sure Draco gets home in one piece. He’s not falling helplessly in love.

Starts With a Spin by Maxine (E, 120k)

It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there's almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.

[wttcsms]

you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody, atsumu miya

pairing atsumu miya x reader word count 1.4k synopsis love for you is holding him; love for him is allowing himself to be held. content contains hurt/comfort, intimacy, atsumu-centric, insecurities, unconditional love, showering together but make it sfw

The stinging spray of scalding hot water from the showerhead should be enough to get him to leave, but he barely registers the pain, can’t seem to bring himself to feel the heat, can’t seem to bring himself to feel anything.

No — that’s not entirely true. He feels one thing.

Devastated. 

Everyone knows Atsumu Miya likes to talk shit on and off the court. It’s his thing, his trademark, his brand. Lots of athletes like to talk big about how they’re going to win; who the hell is going to support a guy who walks onto the court with a well, it’ll be alright if I lose. 

He’s staring down at the tiles of the shower, can somewhat register the persistent barrage of water spraying onto his back as he has one hand splayed on the wall, shoulders slumped, water dripping from his hair and running into his vision, making everything blurry. 

Don’t blink, he tries to demand of himself, but the issue is, we can’t always control our bodies. He has to shut his eyes, just for a brief second, and in that second, it all comes back to him.

The opposing team at set point. His team depending on him to serve. One point left. Only one chance. He can feel the stadium’s crowd holding their breath, can feel the lack of air in the atmosphere, can hear how loudly the blood is rushing to his head. Dizzy. Dazed. He doesn’t give into pressure, not anymore, not ever. Doesn’t feel performance anxiety, knows better than to try to attempt something flashy just for the glory of a good story to tell. 

Give ‘em a serve they don’t have a chance of receiving, he demands of himself. 

The final seconds of the match all come to him like stills from a movie, each frame another devastating blow to his ego, his self-worth, his very being. The ball is in the air, he’s bending his knees to prepare for the jump, his hand making contact with the ball. Something’s off, he can feel it upon first contact, but it’s too late to save, too late for him to change anything.

The ball lands.

On his side of the net.

He’s frozen in place as he stares ahead. He can tell the other team is cheering, slapping each other on their backs, and he can hear the blow of a whistle, the celebration from the crowd. But all he sees is the ball. All he sees is his failure.

Atsumu has spent a good portion of his volleyball career knowing that he plays the game better than most. It’s why he feels so comfortable talking about the lack of skills other players display. It’s why he always has something to say at practice, on the court, during a post-game interview. 

And he knows he makes mistakes. He knows that he’s only human. But a bad serve in the middle of a game isn’t as crushing as knowing that he is the sole reason as to why the Black Jackals’ season is going to be ending early. 

Where did he go wrong? He did everything perfectly, did everything the way he usually does. Why couldn’t he perform? Why did he let his team down? Why—

“Atsumu?” 

He doesn’t look up, and all you can see is the sad shape of his outline from the foggy glass door of the shower. You know that Atsumu probably wants nothing more than to be alone right now, but you can’t help but worry when fifteen minutes have gone by, and you could still hear the shower running. That’s your first sign that something is wrong.

Atsumu is a notoriously quick showerer, to an almost concerning degree. When you first started living together, you debated planning elaborate tricks to see whether or not he was even using soap. (Which, in hindsight, was just flatout silly; he walks out the shower smelling overwhelming of his Axe Men’s 3-in-1 and Old Spice deodorant.) 

No — the first sign that something is wrong would be his uncharacteristic silence on the trip back home. He hadn’t responded to your it’s okay, baby, you’ll get ‘em next season. Instead, he just looked out the window, the devastated expression on his face silencing you as well. Even when he lost to Kageyama, he had been disappointed, upset, but still talking big about how he was going to crush the Adlers next time around. He had then made a comment about Tobio’s stupid haircut, and that’s when you told him if he doesn’t have anything nice to say, he shouldn’t say anything at all.

Now, you’d give anything to have him say something. Something for you to work with.  

“Atsumu?” You call out for him again, worried when you don’t see his figure moving. 

Pathetic. Atsumu thinks that’s what he is. A loser, a fucking scrub, a failure. Even if his teammates won’t admit it, the media will. And what then? Will you think that about him too? It’d be the truth, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re in the bathroom now? To pity him? 

He’s too busy tearing himself down to react to the distinct sound of you sliding back the glass door of the shower so you can enter it. There’s a brief burst of the cool air of the bathroom hitting his exposed body, but it evaporates the moment you shut the door. 

“Oh, ‘Tsumu.” You whisper it, and he wants to tell you that he’s not fucking fragile. That he’s not going to shatter into a million pieces if you just raise your voice, if you tell him how you really feel about him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around to face you. He doesn’t want to. He can’t.

His skin is red from the heat of the water, his back staring at you angrily, hurt. The skin’s going to need some time to heal, and you turn the faucet, lowering the temperature of the water. 

“Turn around, honey. Please?” You’ve never seen Atsumu so upset before, so quiet. You wait several minutes for him to actually do as you request, and you think it’s only because he wants a way to get rid of you sooner. 

You don’t say anything to him as you reach for his shampoo, letting it lather in your hands before you give him a pleading look, one that has him leaning down so you can reach his hair. It feels nice, he thinks, the way you’re shampooing his hair. You’re gentle with your movements, and it almost relaxes him. 

You use your body wash on him. Massage the suds into his skin, but you’re mindful of the amount of pressure you apply. You know which areas of his skin is more sensitive from its exposure to the hot water, and you are careful with the spots of his body that he had chosen to be negligent with. 

“Am I so fuckin’ worthless that you have to do somethin’ as simple as bathing me?” He’s not angry at you. He might spit out the words — words that come out sounding all raw and scratchy, like they had to personally claw themselves from his throat — but the anger is not directed at you. It’s at himself. 

“Look at me.” 

His eyes are glossy, wet, shiny, and you know it’s not because of the shower. You’ve never seen Atsumu cry before, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. So, you do what feels right. You whisper his name softly, tenderly, and it’s this tenderness, your unwavering softness, your unconditional love, that breaks him. That makes him feel safe enough to break. That makes him think of the possibility that you’ll take these jagged pieces of him and piece them back together for him, with him. 

He’s so much bigger than you. You tell him all the time that he’s larger than life, and he thinks about that comment as he lets himself sink into your open arms, as he lets himself be held. He has never felt smaller in his life, and in your embrace, he buries his face into your shoulder, letting his warm tears mix in with the water already on your body.

“I don’t know how you can still look at me.” He mutters, and every word is spoken onto your skin, tiny blades striking you. 

Atsumu isn’t sure what he wants to hear, isn’t even certain that there’s anything that could be said to ease his devastation, but melts into you even more so when you tell him,

“Atsumu, I thought you already knew that nothing can change the way I look at you.”

[hattoriscap]

Today I'm thinking about The Gaming Channel’s Couch

The gaming channel started with them sitting on The Couch, playing console games that require controllers (donkey kong, mortal kombat, portal, bishi bashi, etc). I think it was intentional that they launched the gaming channel like that. It gave off the vibe that this was just a chill hangout. No professional gaming was expected, no serious business, this was just a fun project. 

It made sense that until they played the sims 4 (a PC game), they only ever sat on The Couch. They even acknowledged that it's a new (unexpected) territory in that video, meaning that they did not plan on it being a permanent fixture at first.

So you can tell that their intention was to play console games on the couch, and PC games on the gaming chairs. Simple enough system, had they stuck to it.

Games played on the 3DS / iPad (before Apple introduced the screen recording feature, at least) required additional setup, so I don’t think much of them playing them on the gaming chairs. 

(They played dragon city (iPad game) twice on the couch though, idk how that worked. I gave up tryna reason Why they were inconsistent about iPad/iPhone games specifically.)

In 2015, They revealed that Dan broke the couch at some point. They didn't make any effort to replace or get rid of it though.

Despite it being broken, they continued playing on the couch. Phil’s nostalgia quest videos in the 2016 gamingmas were almost exclusively played on the couch (will you be a millionaire, katamari damacy, bishi bashi, bubble bobble), all of which were playstation games.

-

In Jan 2017, Phil revealed that he got a new office chair. I think getting that new chair was a turning point in the channel, as all videos filmed after that were on the chairs.

When they moved houses in 2017, they moved in the broken couch to their new (fake) apartment. Please remember that this couch was used by guests who wanted to sleepover at theirs in the previous apartment, so them moving it to the fake apartment instead of their own clearly meant that it was not for guests anymore. It was The Gaming Channel’s Couch.

I think this showed that they were really committed to still making the channel look chill. The first shot of the then new gaming room had Phil sitting on the couch, saying "I want it to look homely". I know he was talking about the lamp, but I think his comment can also be extended to him sitting on the couch.

he couch was probably too far away from the screen. I don’t even think it had any purpose but to fill the room and make it look lived in.

They played many card games (heartthrob, clickbait, santa banter, bucket of doom.. etc) in the fake apartment. These games didn’t even require them to see a monitor, but they never sat on the couch ever. Actually, the only instance where they sat on the couch in this apartment (after establishing its existence in the first video filmed there) was this:

I don’t really know what my conclusion is, just that the post-hiatus gaming room doesn’t even have a couch, and I miss it loads, even when they haven’t sat on A Couch to play a game since 2016.

(videos played on the tour bus were excluded as they were played on a couch but not The Couch, y’know)

[ellecdc]

i come barring a request for a poly!marauders🫡📃

idk you ever do this with ur cat but when mine meows at me i respond back and pretend we’re having a full conversation, and now imagine reader this with her cat and she’s roommates with lily so she’s used to but then the boys see they’re all thrown off and slightly worried.

now i bid you good day my lady 🫡

I've had this blurb like half finished for a while, but since we were all talking about our fur babies today, I thought it'd be perfect to finish and post! thanks for this cute request - hope it's what you were looking for

poly!marauders x fem!reader who talks to her cat

Remus felt sort of bad for Lily at the way the boys all deflated when it had been her who opened the door to your shared flat instead of you. Thankfully, the red-head just laughed and invited them all in.

“Sorry to disappoint boys.” She jested as they all made themselves at home on your couch.

“Oh, we’re always happy to see you, Lily.” James said at the same time as Sirius grumbled “you should be”, earning him a pinch in the ribs by Remus.

“Hey!” Lily called down the hall. “The boys are here!”

Remus winced at a painful sounding thump and a muffled. “Okay thanks! I’m almost ready!”

The boys were very excited, if James’ knee bouncing and Sirius’ impish smirk wasn’t obvious enough. Lily had been gushing about how sweet her new roommate was and how she thought you’d get along really well with the group of friends, and she’d been right. You came to two pub nights and the boys were hooked; constantly asking Lily for updates and if you’d be at the next one.

Lily had grown so tired of playing messenger that she asked you if she could give them your phone number, to which you had agreed.

The four of you had been in a group chat for nearly a month and a half before they felt brave enough to ask you out on an official date.

“Where are you guys going tonight?” Lily asked as she sat in an armchair in the living area where the boys were waiting.

“We’re going to the pub on 42nd.” James answered readily. 

“The one with the board games and vintage video games?” Lily clarified. 

“Yup. That way there’s something for us to do if conversation lulls, and something for James to do with his hands.” Sirius explained teasingly, causing James to blush and lean into his side as if he were trying to hide inside of Sirius’ smaller frame.

“Don’t tease the lad.” Lily admonished playfully. “He’s already likely nervous enough. I don’t think you lot have to worry about tonight though; conversation never lulls with her around.”

Remus tilted his head in bemusement at Lily’s comment but never got to ask for clarification before he heard some muttering.

“Would you stop that?” He could hear you mutter quietly; barely any ire detected in your tone.

“Please don’t do this, I’m already late.” You begged before a big crash took place. “For fuck’s sa- why.” 

“You’re not allowed to get ready with me anymore.” You declared to your bedroom. Remus shared a look with Sirius and James before turning towards Lily who only shook her head and brought her finger to her lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that!” You carried on. “If you want to be here to see me off, you need to behave yourself.”

It was quiet for a few moments. “No, knocking over my jewelry stand is not behaving.”

They listened to you shuffling around before you let out a big sigh. “I love you too, but you are stressing me out. Do you want to watch shows with Lily tonight while I’m gone? Hm? Let’s go ask.”

Finally, you exited your room and made your way down the hall, entering the living area before pausing to take in the fact that the four occupants of your flat were all staring at you with varying levels of bemusement and amusement. 

And trotting happily behind you was a small cat seemingly none the wiser to the fact that it just made its mistress look like a fool in front of her dates.

You chuckled awkwardly. “How much did you hear?”

Lily snorted and pat her legs as an invitation for your feline friend, who happily agreed, hopping and curling up on the red-head’s lap. 

“Enough to know that knocking over your jewelry stand is not behaving.” Sirius teased salaciously. 

You groaned and moved to cover your hands with your face, but James was having none of that and quickly made for you.

“Don’t hide that beautiful face from us; it’d be a shame if the only one who got to appreciate your date night look was your cat.” He commented as he gently pulled your hands away from your face.

You still looked awfully embarrassed but acquiesced. “A bad cat, at that.” You spat to the ball of fur currently sitting with your roommate without any real malice. 

“Oi!” Lily defended quickly, brushing broad strokes over the cat like the villain from Austin Powers. “Don’t speak ill of Princess Bernadette the Third.”

“Princess Bernadette?” Sirius asked bewilderedly at the same time as James murmured “the Third?”

“Birdie, Lily. My cat’s name is Birdie.” You corrected, not at all amused. 

Lily raised her nose in the air. “When we stay home to watch Bridgerton without you lot, she’s Princess Bernadette the Third. Now off with you, we have Ball’s to attend, and you have gentlemen to court.” 

Remus watched with a loving smile as you flushed furiously at that, laughing when it only deepened as Sirius suddenly stood and made his way for you, bowing with a flourish and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Shall we, m’lady?”

You gave him an eye roll but Remus could tell it was mostly for show as you bore a sickeningly sweet smile and accepted James’ elbow as you made your way to the door.

“Have fun you guys!” Lily called towards the door as Remus bent down to scritch Birdie on the chin.

“You too, Princess Bernadette, Princess Lillith.” He offered with his most posh accent and a quick bow before joining his two boyfriends and their date at the door.

[teenidlegirl]

꣑୧ ݁.﹒𝓖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 .ᐟ

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 fem!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚  ˖ ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  you never wanted your love to end but you will never be his again. time to say goodbye to the past, to the memories that will always be kept safe in your broken heart.

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕  ˖ ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  angst, established relationship, breakup, relationship negligence, no happy ending

( ꯭♡︎ ) ˖ ࣪ . love note ˒˒ heavily based on “goodbye” by marina, one of my favs of hers. i was feeling sad so i wrote this. ngl i did get a bit emotional writing this. also, first time writing pure angst.

in the beginning, it was all perfect. you found the perfect partner to spend your life with. miguel was a miracle, the light you were seeking for. you were his too, as if you were meant for each other. you truly believed that; believed in love. every minute spent with him was precious, savoring it. he treated you so well, like a man worshipping his queen. such a real gentleman. everything he did always took your breath away, making your heart flutter even if it was the smallest thing. no matter what, even if he got home late, he always made time for you.

but, unfortunately, that changed.

as time went on, three years into the relationship, the rose petals began falling apart one by one in a slow fashion. those late nights of him coming home became a repetitive affair. you would stay up just to see him, not caring if you were losing sleep. once he showed up, a simple kiss on the forehead and a muttered “miss you” were his way of acknowledging you before heading to the bathroom to shower then head straight to bed, not even waiting for you.

this tedious thing continued on. by the time you wake up, empty sheets were beside you. everyday has been spent with loneliness. you knew miguel was a hardworking, dedicated man. he worked at alchemax, a time-consuming job. he was considered one of the best employees so it was expected of him to busy most of the time. but you didn’t think it would lead to him coming home so late. part of you felt selfish because you know how much he loved his job and how important it was. however, you can’t help but miss your boyfriend. even if it was for a few minutes just hugging each other would be enough.

but the petals continued to fall.

the late nights were so tedious to the point you gave up and went straight to bed. miguel would come home so damn late, walking in the door at 4:00 in morning. you stopped leaving leftovers for him since the food you made were untouched and left cold. he was so fucking busy that he started canceling dates, especially last minute. at first, you understood due to his job. but he kept doing it to the point that you got so sick of it. your boyfriend was barely around anymore. you felt so lonely. some nights, tears ran down your face as you softly cried to yourself.

that’s when you realized the spark died.

the relationship was falling apart, crashing down like a paper plane. miguel was neglecting you, neglecting the relationship you built together. it seemed like he was dating his job more than his girlfriend. that’s what pissed you off. you couldn’t take it anymore.

as much as you didn’t want your love to end, you didn’t want to live in this place of isolation and negligence. you had to end it all.

     ━━━━━━━━ ִ  ۫   ꒰ ♡ ꒱  ۫   ݂ ━━━━━━━━

nervously fiddling with your hands, heart pounding in your chest, you sit at the dining table waiting for miguel to come home. he texted that he got off early, for the first time. that was your green light to tell him it’s over, despite how much you don’t want to. the anxiety flowing through your body makes you a bit nauseous. part of you is afraid of his reaction. but honestly, would he care much since he’s been a neglectful asshole? you just have to wait and see.

the sound of door unlocking makes your heart stop for a moment. with anxious eyes, you watch your boyfriend enter the apartment.

“hola, mi alma.”

the nickname and soft smile on his face hurts you. that’s the first time in two months since he smiled at you, actually happy to see and acknowledge you.

he must’ve notice your anxious expression the way his brows furrowed a bit. “what’s wrong—“

“sit down, miguel.”

tension fills in the room.

with a confused expression, miguel obeys and sits across from you. “¿que pasa, mi amor? did something happen? did someone say something to you? did they hurt you? if they hurt you, i’ll—“

“you hurt me, miguel.”

those mahogany eyes went wide. “wh-what?” he sounds in pure disbelief.

“you’re the who hurt me.” audible pain in your voice, making him flinch. “these past two fucking months have been so shitty. i’ve never felt so miserable.”

miguel was about to say something but you continue on, not giving him the fucking chance.

“i-i feel so fucking alone in this relationship. i’m not even sure if this is a relationship anymore.” you scoff. “because you’ve been neglecting it, neglecting me.”

his stomach drops. oh he fucked up.

“it feels like a one-sided relationship, one-sided love. i’m the only one who’s making an effort, and i’m fucking tired of it, miguel!” you voice raises a bit.

“mi amor, i—“ he chokes. “i-i’m sorry. i didn’t—“

“look,” you cut him off again. “i understand how important your job is. believe me, i tried my best. but you completely forgot there’s more than just your job!” a thin layer of tears begin forming in your eyes. “you come home late and i don’t see you! i wake up and you’re gone! you cancel dates all the time or never show up!” you’re practically shouting.

the tears in your eyes makes his heart crack, making his own swell in tears as well.

“i miss you, miguel! i miss you all the fucking time! i tried to be understanding but i’m fed up!” you cried, a few tears trailing down your flushed cheek.

a single tear drop from his eye falls down his face. his heart breaks at your sad yet truthful words. miguel knew his was way too focused on work. but fuck he didn’t realized how it affected you to the point of making you cry. and he hates it when you cry, especially if it’s him that you made.

“mi amor, i-i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry for making you feel like this. i was so invested with work, i didn’t realized-“

“exactly, you didn’t realized because you were dating your job than your girlfriend.”

that sentence hurts him, because it’s the truth. oh he really fucked up big time.

“i-i…” he struggles to find the right words.

“it’s over, miguel.”

now that shatters his heart completely.

“w-wait, mi amor. please—“ miguel panics, reaching out to you but you back away. his heart breaks more.

you shake your head, tears continuously falling down your cheeks. “it’s over, miguel. i can’t be the only one putting effort into this relationship. i don’t wanna be lonely and ignored anymore.”

now he’s the one crying. “pl-please, mi alma. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. please don’t leave me. i promise to do better, to be better. please, just give me a chance. i need you, i can’t live without you. just please, mi alma. don’t leave me.”

“you’re the one who left me, miguel.”

miguel though his heart couldn’t break even more. he doesn’t want to lose you. he needs you, you’re his anchor, his sole reason to continue on, his reason to work so hard for. but that’s the exact reason why he’s losing you, was too invested in his work that he completely neglected you, the love of his life. pushed your needs and love away. now he has to suffer the consequences. to suffer the one fear he was deeply afraid of: losing you. especially by his own actions.

“i never wanted our love to end.” you flash him a sad smile, tears blurring your vision.

a night of tears, regret and sorrow. after the whole shitshow, you left. you packed all of your stuff because you knew this was your last time in this apartment. you weren’t going to stay any longer. despite how times miguel begged you not to go, even got down on his knees and cried out endless sorrys, you grabbed your bag and left.

miguel cried the entire night.

     ━━━━━━━━ ִ  ۫   ꒰ ♡ ꒱  ۫   ݂ ━━━━━━━━

it’s been eights months since the breakup. the tearful nights dimmed down but heart still broken. the aftermath is worse than the breakup. broken hearts are quick to burn but slow to heal. you’re not sure how long it will take for yours to heal.

you haven’t seen or spoken to miguel since. it’s ideal of course. after the breakup, you deleted his number and anything associated with him. before you did, he messaged you about giving him a chance to talk, to express his regret but you didn’t allow that. you were smarter than that. despite how much you still love him, you can’t let him in again. you can’t go through tears again, it would break you even more.

you truly never wanted your love to end. it was perfect from the start but not everything has a happy ending. that’s how life is. but your love is safe inside your memories, stored away in the back.

in the end, you will never be his again.

he had to say goodbye to the girl that he lost.

as you take one final look at pictures of you and miguel that were taken during your relationship before deleting them, you tell yourself one thing.

goodbye, my friend.

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[yenonnoff]

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! 22. 2 people, 1 truth

note: word count is 3.8k :D

“they really are little rascals, especially this one!” atsumu huffed with an orange kitten pressed against his chest. you found him near an alleyway and were currently walking back to april’s store. 

it was a convenience store, and she used the second floor as her living space. after you were banned from eating the snacks at your parents’ place, you started hanging out at april’s more often. she always gave you the snacks for free and you spent most of your childhood there: in april’s store next to her floor fan as customers came and went. 

“you’re back!” april rushed out in a hurry, reaching to pet the kitten still in your arms. “their mom’s in the back with the other younglings so i’ll need to wash them. but before that, tell me how i can repay the two of you.” 

you rushed to decline. “no, no. don’t worry about it, we did this because we just wanted to help.” 

april laughed heartily. “then thank you, darling, for helping me find the kittens.” she smiled towards atsumu, “and thank you… y/n’s boyfriend. looks like i never got your name!” she erupted again in buoyant laughter. 

your co-star returned her smile. “it’s atsumu miya, nice to meet you.” his response garnered an elbow to the side from you. “he’s not my boyfriend, just a coworker,” you clarified quickly.

her excitement didn’t fade, a sly twinkle shining in her aged eyes. she grabbed the kittens from you and atsumu, the two troublemakers tugging insistently at her floral blouse. “we’ll continue this later, they’re really impatient aren’t they?” 

when april left, you and atsumu occupied the bench in front of the store. he stretched and yawned. “what were you saying about your parents before you got cut off?” he asked curiously. 

“oh, my parents aren’t here anymore. we moved to miyagi prefecture when i got to high school, and they stayed there after i moved to tokyo for university.” 

“must’ve been hard when their only child left,” he said, lifting a brow when you laughed. “not at all,” you replied. “i was a handful to them, they were glad i left.” 

growing up, a part of you resented your parents for moving away from your hometown. you dreamt of everything: attending a nearby high school and keeping up with your studies—going home and helping the residents with their tasks around town. it was the perfect harmony, and it was shattered due to your parents. 

you realized later it was because they hated everything the town stood for: peace, gaiety, and the ability to melt your heart. they must’ve hated the cool summers too—the long family walks through town after supper where you admired wildflowers in the sidewalk cracks. they must’ve hated the colorful peonies in the spring and the lively tradition where all the residents came together to have one big picnic in the field. you still remembered it so vividly. each household needed to bring something special (music, toys for the kids, food, or drinks) to be able to participate. once, your parents said you were their special item and the residents exploded in cheerful laughter and agreement. looking back, you wondered how true that actually was of your parents. 

they were bored of the place they grew up in, and they tossed it away without even asking you. they threw their friends away, the memories they made with everyone, and—worse of all—they desecrated your love for the town and its people. 

you’d cried during departure, watching as everyone bore smiling faces in an attempt to uplift yours. you hadn’t cried in years, and you were about to attend high school. you saw them hand you gifts—all the things you loved and things that’ll remind you of your true home. you hoped they knew you weren’t the one who wanted to leave; you hoped they knew it was because your parents hated their kind generosity. 

“i hated leaving my hometown behind. if i could, i would’ve stayed with them while my parents left. i would’ve been okay without them. but when i got to my new school, things started to get better,” you said, fidgeting with the palm of your hand. “i excelled at my classes and made new friends. they filled an empty part in me and i was able to be with them 24/7 through volleyball.” you paused for a moment. “but my parents didn’t like that. they didn’t like it when i went to my team’s matches to support them, they didn’t like that i was barely home with them.”

atsumu remained silent while you talked. his back was pressed against the wall and his shoulder was touching yours. his silence comforted you, his warmth made you continue. “i think they realized it was out of their control now, that when i went off to university, they wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. i saved up money from my part-time job and moved to tokyo with my friends. my parents stopped calling me afterwards, but i still send money back home to them.” 

you choked back a sob, chuckling at the weird situation: you pouring your feelings out to your attentive co-star. you avoided looking at him.

“what about your aunt april? couldn’t you have stayed with her?” 

you laughed quietly. “she’s not my real aunt, her husband isn’t my real uncle either. they just treated me really nicely, like i was a part of their family. actually, they were my parents’ rivals. the town only needed one convenience store and i guess my parents were the ones who left. maybe they didn’t like how welcoming aunt april treated me, but i knew she never wanted us to leave. and i never wanted to be seen as a burden to them. they already had so much on their plate, i just couldn’t invade their lives like that.” 

atsumu hummed. “but if you had asked, they would’ve accepted in a heartbeat.” you smiled sadly—what he said was true. 

you couldn’t help but imagine what your life would’ve been like if you’d stayed. you would’ve been happy, you would’ve continued to stay in your hometown after graduation, maybe even become a farmer. you would’ve been surrounded by people who loved you and familiar sights. but you would’ve never met shimizu and the others. you would’ve never realized the wonders of living in a big city filled with opportunities. you wouldn’t be acting. you wouldn’t have met atsumu and experienced all of this. 

when you realized that silence took over the conversation, you attempted a weak smile. “well! enough of me—”

“you don’t have to hide it, y/n,” atsumu said. “you can be unprofessional too.” 

your heart staggered. hot tears threatened to fall and you only said, “it’s okay, i don’t want to talk about it right now.” 

atsumu nodded at your response, sitting up more casually. you were grateful when he started talking: “it’ll be unfair if i didn’t tell you about myself too, right?” he stopped briefly to think. “my brother and i were adamant about volleyball during high school. awards, summer camps, interhigh, nationals—you name it. being recognized for your incredible setting skills had its perks,” he winked and you laughed. “i got some modeling gigs and then eventually went into acting.”

you listened intently to him as he spoke. there was always something about atsumu. was it his assertiveness or the way he naturally drew people in? you had a feeling it was both. the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to know about him. 

“the first time i scored a big role, i was confused by how happy i felt. i remembered the amount of compliments they gave me, not only for my acting skills but for volleyball as well. ‘a real talent,’ they’d told me once, and it made me want to continue acting. i struggled here and there with getting roles, mainly due to my inexperience, but it was a challenge i wanted to overcome. i felt the same amount of frustration when messing up a scene as passing a bad set. i felt the same amount of joy too, so it was difficult to decide which path i wanted to take after high school.” 

you asked when he became silent, “how did your parents react?” 

he didn’t turn to look at you but you saw his lips pulled into a grim smile. “horrible,” he said. “‘samu wanted to pursue culinary arts and i wanted to focus on acting. my parents knew i had some roles during high school but they didn’t like that i wanted to do it professionally. my mom was clinging onto the chance that i would continue volleyball unlike my brother.” atsumu tightened his hands, his expression hard and dour. “but they didn’t realize that i was still playing, just not competitively. i didn’t compromise my love for it, never did.” 

you felt a strange pull of admiration. you could hate atsumu all you want for his actions, but you could never hate the confidence he radiated. you’ve seen it before: at the script read through and on the first day of filming. when he stepped on set, reading his lines with such certainty and zeal, your eyes didn’t want to look away. so this was atsumu miya, you thought. this was the highly praised atsumu—the side he proudly chose to display. 

but right now, he was just atsumu, regular atsumu. he was another person that goes through things like everyone else. you had believed vehemently before that your co-star was only capable of hate and disdain. that he could only conjure up sly, distasteful frowns. now he was more human than you thought. 

“i’m sorry,” was all you could say in response. atsumu shook his head, his eyes downcasted. “it got better eventually, it’s been a couple years and they’ve come around.” 

he continued: “it took a lot to convince them and myself that it was the right choice. i didn’t land any major roles for a year straight.” 

you blinked. who wouldn’t want atsumu on their production? even if this happened years ago, atsumu already had a couple major roles under his belt. you had a feeling it wasn’t him or his skills that were at fault. 

“a fucking year straight,” he spat his words venomously. “i practiced everyday until my body gave up, and for what? some rich insecure pieces of shit to come by and flaunt their money in the director’s face? i didn’t want anything to stop me from acting except my skills.” 

you imagined atsumu practicing his lines over and over again until he was satisfied. you saw him beating himself up for every mistake he would make. to atsumu, it must’ve felt like preparing for a volleyball match: setting and serving until he could no longer—until his exhausted body begged him to stop. it felt vivid to you. after all, you were both hardworking perfectionists, and you were both treading through an industry where the rich reigned and the skilled surrendered. 

for a year straight, atsumu dealt with this. he couldn’t do anything, powerless to change the directors’ decisions.

you stared at him with a pained expression. “bribery,” you said meekly and he nodded. “just like what emma did.”

“so you knew,” he said, low and accepting. 

“yes, i did, about her bribing director sage. but i want to hear it from you, not from a friend or anywhere else.” 

he nodded and you braced yourself for what was about to come. “i didn’t know at first, no one did except for the director and committee team. you wouldn’t have expected her to do something like that: she was nice and endearing, even to the staff members. but i always questioned why director sage was so hard on her. it wasn’t as if she lacked talent. she was good—well, good enough, i suppose. then i realized what it was about her. she had talent but not skills from experience. whenever filming lasted longer than it should’ve due to her, everyone was forgiving. they ignored her issues because she was nice and pretty.”

you swallowed at his words. with money, you could buy opportunities, but not skills and experience that are on par with actors who’ve been doing this for way longer. you couldn’t, unless you knew how to adapt—unless you were a quick learner. emma was none of those things. 

you watched atsumu rub his hands against his face, a sorrowful chuckle leaving his lips. “there were signs and i was blind to them. i only focused on her, thinking how amazing she was. she only had two years of experience so her mistakes were understandable. but this was a director sage film. his standards were fucking crazy. how did she land the main role if not for bribery and blackmail?” 

you had to confess, after returning from the trip to the record store slash beach, you finally watched director sage’s latest film. it aired two years ago but was one of his most popular works ever. emma had the main role but surprisingly, atsumu was only the second lead. he didn’t have much screen time but whenever he appeared in a scene with emma, you felt your heart stop, your breath hitching in your throat. their chemistry was otherworldly, and you understood why the whole internet went into chaos when they broke up. if you had watched this two years ago, you would’ve rooted for them too. 

“oh, but,” he quickly turned towards you, saying softly, “don’t blame director sage too much. it was his choice to make, but there were devastating circumstances. if he didn’t accept emma’s bribe, there would’ve been no film. her father would’ve cut off all the budget, including the ones from other companies. a single word from him would’ve cost director sage his career.” atsumu’s eyes turned dark and discernible. “i’m not saying his choice was right. emma forcibly stole opportunities from other aspiring actors and director sage helped her to do so. but still… he was in a difficult situation.” 

there was affection in his voice when he said the last sentence. you’ve seen them interact many times before, and it always occurred to you how easily atsumu laughed and smiled in the director’s presence. they both adored one another dearly, both having fond memories of working together years ago. 

“don’t worry, i don’t,” you reassured him. “but when i came, you thought i also blackmailed him. you thought director sage was put in another difficult situation.” you weren’t angry at him, you only stated frankly what had happened. but the latter pained atsumu more than the former. he wished you would yell at him or be in a fit of rage again (like your confrontation at the beach) because he knew he was wrong. he messed up and you were the one that was hurt. 

but you didn’t fault him, not after hearing about everything. atsumu was distrusting, both towards you and the acting industry. how could he not? the person he was in love with had betrayed her morals and his trust. 

“you’re right,” he said. “i was too quick to blame you. i judged you without knowing anything and spoke about you badly when i wasn’t any better. you were none of the things i claimed you were. you’re incredible, you know that? you made those four idiots fall in love with you on the first day of filming. you made director sage fall in with you. and you reminded me what good acting was. it was exhilarating to see someone with the same amount of passion as me. i fell in love with acting again just by watching you act.”

your cheeks burned at his words. you’ve received compliments before but it was different when your unapproachable and grumpy co-star said it. 

atsumu shifted to face you, both of your feet pointing in each other’s directions. “so i’m sorry, y/n. i’m sorry for dragging you into this, you were never the problem. what those staff members said were true: i am extremely cocky and pretentious, i’m hasty and reckless with both my actions and words. and i had hurt you greatly. could you forgive me?” 

you felt his vulnerability, his hesitant gaze on you. it wasn’t his fault, you wanted to say. it was okay. 

“i could, and i will. you’re forgiven, atsumu.” you waited another moment to say, “not everything the staff members said was true. you’re not undeserving of your role or fame.” 

“did they say that too?” 

you nodded and his eyebrows pinched together. “they said that because of my relationship with emma. after the film aired, everyone in the industry knew. some felt stronger about it than others; some could care less because it was so normalized; and some even praised her for being rich and having connections. it’s gross. if you don’t have the skills to earn your roles fairly through auditioning, you’re pathetic. instead of using that money to drag the director and your co-stars down, you should be spending it on acting classes.” 

you had to tug on his arm to get his attention. you didn’t mind his rant, but you were too curious about what that had to do with him being labeled “undeserving.” 

atsumu caught your eye and said, “oh, right. emma and i broke up a year after the film. we didn’t tell anyone what the reason was, but the bribery part was only half the story. those staff members were the same ones i worked with all those years ago. they saw how emma and i were—probably thought i was the same blackmailing fox as her.” he let out another low chuckle. “or maybe that i used my connection with director sage to my advantage. or that i already had my chance to work with him, and that another person should’ve gotten the opportunity.”

in your eyes, atsumu was never undeserving. director sage picked him for the lead role because he truly believed atsumu was worthy of it. you’d heard from kuroo that atsumu came out of his year-long break because of director sage. he just wanted to work with his favorite director again. atsumu had the confidence and skills to do so. what was so wrong about that? 

you patted him on the shoulder. “it’s not true, everyone knows it’s not. don’t be so hard on yourself.” your words made him laugh. a genuine one this time, it wasn’t sorrowful or somber like the previous ones. 

“thank you,” he said. “i’ll take it easy. i didn't think this trip would become so sentimental. did i bore you?” he asked mischievously. you shook your head no, the two of you exchanging pleasant smiles. 

you stretched your arms. how long were the two of you sitting on the wooden bench anyway? the sun was disappearing and leaving behind a trail of vibrant vermillion in its wake. it was already five o’clock. 

when the two of you peeked inside the convenience store, you saw april talking with her husband by the cash register. she noticed you two, turning to say, “there they are! did you have fun out there?”

apparently she had finished washing the kittens a long time ago, even having enough time to prepare dinner. a large dinner, enough to feed an army. “we didn’t want to interrupt the sweet moment so we waited,” april beamed while you, atsumu, and her husband followed behind on the staircase. 

atsumu whispered to you, “should i be here?” 

you nodded. after all, april’s homemade meals were the best. no amount of restaurants could compare, you knew he would be missing out if he didn’t give it a try. 

thankfully, dinner wasn’t awkward. april’s husband got along well with your co-star, minus the first interaction when he’d mistaken him for your boyfriend. it was becoming a running joke but you didn’t mind. you finally had the chance to sit down and talk to april and her husband, reminiscing about what happened during the time when you didn’t visit. you mentioned your previous film—vengeance—and the two of them chatted about your amazing performance. apparently everyone in town stopped what they were doing to watch it the day it aired. they were your first ever supporters after all. 

you also mentioned your friends, to which april smiled in relief. then you talked about your new film and gestured towards atsumu, your co-star who was caught off guard with food stuffed in his mouth. you left out all the bad parts in your story, focusing mainly on your “friendly” competition at the amusement park and the fun trip to the record store slash beach. you also mentioned jolie and the others, even director sage and how he looked better in person. 

atsumu got to talk too: about his twin brother and their volleyball experience during high school. atsumu boasted about being the number one setter and april’s husband, who you’ve known since childhood, brought up unexpectedly about how he’d played once as well. 

“captain of my team,” he laughed with his whole body. “that was my prime.”

it got to the point where all the dirty dishes were cleaned off the table and april brought out peeled tangerines. you got to play with the kittens while atsumu and april’s husband continued to converse about volleyball. it was endearing and bittersweet that the two of you had to leave. you wanted to freeze the moment—you’d forgotten how nice it felt to be back in your hometown. 

“must you go already?” april asked, standing at the door of her convenience store. her husband chimed in, “if they don’t catch the train, they’ll be stuck here.” 

she nudged him with an annoyed expression. “that’s what i’m trying to do.” she turned back towards you. “the whole town’s excited for your new film, y/n. we’ll definitely watch it so make sure to visit again. you as well, atsumu.” 

the two of you thanked them for dinner, saying your farewells and heading to the train station. 

“thank you for bringing me here,” atsumu said as you waited on the platform. 

“did i one up you? be honest.” 

he replied hesitantly, “yes. i have to admit your hometown is pretty nice.” 

“then let me borrow your jacket again on the train.” 

“oh? you’re finally gonna go to sleep?”

your eyes widened in embarrassment. “you knew?” he smirked at your dazed expression. “how could i not? kind of hard when you were wriggling in your seat trying to get comfortable.” 

“i will fall asleep this time. today’s been really exhausting.” 

atsumu peered down at you, saying, “good work today, y/n, and…”

he didn’t get to finish his sentence, interrupted by the roaring of the approaching train. you stepped inside, turning to ask, “what did you say?” 

“nevermind,” he smiled. “let’s get to our seats before we both fall asleep standing up.” 

atsumu had told you many things today, but the unspoken ones might’ve been the most important. he wanted to tell you again that he was sorry for everything. and he wanted to tell you that he was glad you were his co-star.

masterlist ⌒☆ previous ⌒☆ next

fun facts:

director sage did NOT like working with emma one bit, but he made sure to hide his disdain at all times.

when atsumu went to audition for director sage's previous film, he went with a friend of his. she practiced for the main role relentlessly but her audition didn't pass. atsumu always held a grudge towards emma for stealing his friend's chance; if it weren't for her, his friend would've gotten the role. she was a better actress than emma anyway.

y/n and atsumu took a million pictures of the kittens. there were five of them! she sent them all to the group chat for them to gawk at.

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! ｡ｏ♡ an atsumu miya smau

synopsis: when y/n l/n, a rising actress, decides to star in a romance film that could make or break her career, she’s unable to showcase her skills, revealing her inexperience within the romance department instead. worst of all, atsumu miya, her co-star and the main lead’s love interest, seems to hate her guts! with absolutely, unbearably zero chemistry between the two, an idea was proposed: spend time with one another in the upcoming weeks. will y/n be able to ignore her professionalism and listen to her heart? and will she, a clueless romantic, be able to pick up on the signs her co-star is sending her?

a/n: FINALYL FINISHED UGHHH I SWEAR THIS TOOK AN ETERNITY hoped u liked y/n and atsumu's backstories + his very heartfelt apology + emma being a very bad person

taglist is open! dm or ask to be a part of it! (those bolded were unable to be tagged)

⌒☆ @kqbukimono @empathum @clyver @chosoluv @oceansfloor @sunarots @marga-j @rukia-uchiha-98 @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ast4rg1rl @seiamor @saiewithakatana @usermins @literally-a-ferret @terrarain @iuspired @haruskatana @wolffmaiden @ris-krispie @vellichxrr6782 @animenaces-world @reignsaway @emii4evr @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @yuminako @tojirin @v3nusplanetofluv @vyvixen @secondary-character-25 @tenjikusstuff4 @444choso @mylahrins @deimmortales99 @hisfuture @staywhelmed8801 @dl-yum @nessaasstuff @milesmoralesluvs @101tsumu @ryeyeyer @cherrypieyourface

[angelstitss]

and on this episode of analyzing and yapping about vox’s every move…

VOX IS SO FUCKING JEALOUS OF ANGEL I CANT STAND THIS PATHETIC LOSER ANYMORE (i love him)

vox puts up a front to make himself look charming, but underneath that is an insecure, obsessive, controlling man. he’s obsessed with things that can and have hurt him (alastor, valentino) and even though he has cameras everywhere and can no doubt see how abusive valentino is, he’s fixated on the fact that he isn’t the main subject of valentino’s attention, and he wants to be.

he’s even overjoyed in the brief moment that he thought that angel had quit, his face lighting up hopefully as he asks the question and getting upset/frustrated when valentino cares more about going to get angel than vox telling him not to. now, i’m not saying that this is the ONLY reason vox sounded happy when asking if angel had quit because vox is also likely just sick and tired of hearing about valentino yapping about angel 24/7 (if u look back, he does it in nearly every single scene he’s in. imagine years of living with him.) but he’s DESPERATE to be valentino’s favorite, and he’s unhealthily obsessed with the idea of it. same with alastor and the way he’s obsessed with him to the point of literally being turned on at the sight of him hurt.

finally, at the end of poison, the second vox sees angel on the balcony, he makes a face, looks at val, and immediately dips. if that first look was not the face of jealousy, i don’t know what is.

in conclusion he’s so fucking jealous i just cannot do this anymore guys I CANT THIS LOSER NEEDS MENTAL ASSISTANCE 😐🫵

if there’s anything else any of u all noticed please tell me because the brainrot is so bad

(u guys better enjoy this post because i spent an hour yapping and finding clips for this)

[homesickturner]

Homesick - Ch. 1

plot : childhood best friends Gracie and John are separated when join joins the war. Both are dealing with their own problems…will they cope with such distance between them. Most importantly, will the friendship (or more than..) stand the test of the war?

Dara speaks : hi hi! I’m overjoyed to finally be releasing this first chapter 🥹 I just could not keep these two to myself anymore 🫶 pls comment if you enjoy…any constructive criticism is welcome also. My asks box is wide open for any and all thoughts you have after reading this chapter so please send them my way !! The idea for this series came to me while listening to my favorite song ever homesick by dua lipa…give it a listen if you have not it’s too good!

warning : will be historically inaccurate at times for the sake of storytelling. Mentions of anxiety.

Gracie and John grew up together. Their parents often say that it was not often throughout their lives that one was seen without the other. Once they reached hugh school, things certainly changed although they still remained very close.

Gracie has been an exceptional student for all her young life and had future hopes of become a nurse. John and Gracie spoke often of their future plans and although there was a chance they may end up hours and hours from each other they knew they would be alright.

“So John,” Gracie spoke up, John sitting opposite her at the dinner table at her home. “I was thinking of doing some traveling before I head to Washington in the fall…where is it that you confirmed again?.”

“Gracie-.”

“Don’t worry though it’ll be way before college so we’ll have time to work and-.”

“I’m joining the air corps,” he blurted out, setting his knife and fork down.”

“You’re…what. John you’re going off to the war and you didn’t mention it.”

“No Gracie because I knew how worried you’d be-.”

“Damn right John.” She shot back, a hurt expression clouding her face. The girl was lost for words. “I’m coming with you-.”

“Like hell you are,” he scoffed. “Quit talking crap Gracie.”

“John! I was going to be a nurse anyway at least this way I’d be helping.” She pleaded.

“Gracie..you don’t want to see what some of the nurses do in the war,” John said softly. “You have so much going for you, go to college and have fun-.”

“While you’re getting shot down out of your fucking plane John!.” She shouted back at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Grace I’ll be ‘aright. I’m not letting you throw your future away for me…for this stupid war.” He insisted.

“John you’re my best friend. I can’t let you go out there.” She stood from the table and began pacing the small dining room. “If I do, I’d bet money that there’ll be a letter landing on my lap in Washington in a few months because you’ll-.”

“Gracie,” he yelled, strolling to where she was in front of him and laying both hands firmly on her shoulders. “Please…you’re breaking my heart. You gotta let me go.” He choked out, getting the slightest bit emotional seeing her eyes filled with tears.

Gracie felt like the life she’d planned had been ripped from beneath her. Some may say, she indeed had the world at her feet, everything was in her favor. Her family were wealthy, she had friends and she was headed to one of the top nursing programs in the country. Gracie never in a million years expected to hear that news from John. She was so crushed, so angry that this war was going to take away her favorite person from her and maybe never give him back. Gracie knew that boy better than she knew herself, so she knew that there was no changing his mind.

Although she was deeply upset, she knew John and had every belief he was doing this for the right reasons. Gracie knew that John had a big heart and truly just wanted to do what he could in such a horrific situation.

She wished she could be mature and think clearly about the situation. At the end of the day, Gracie was 18 years old and about to potentially loose her best friend to this war. So, she certainly was not thinking clearly.

As much as Gracie tried to persuade him, John’s decision was made. One week later he and Gracie stood at the Wisconsin harbor to say their goodbyes.

“Please don’t do this,” she whispered quietly into this ear, both her arms wrapped around his neck. “I can’t loose you Johnny…you’re my other half.”

Gracie couldn’t believe John was finally leaving her. She wasn’t sure she could live without him. Unfortunately for her, she was about to find out.

“It’ll be alright Gracie, I promise you. Just trust me alright?,” he muttered to her softly, he hands rubbed her back slowly.

John knew no matter what he told her, she’d worry. He knew that they were two halves of the same coin, and they balanced each other out perfectly. John brought out her wild side and Gracie kept John’s feet on the ground when he got overexcited. They certainly brought out the best in each other.

He might have been going off to war, but the only thing he was worried about was how Gracie would cope when he was gone. She’d always been an anxious girl, and it has only worsened in her late teens. In recent years, her friends and family realized that it was only John who seemed to truly help her. They would watch the nerves and worry melt off her face and her body relax when John and Gracie were in company togther. When she was with him, it was as if all the voices in her head were quieted and she felt herself again. John could only hope a constant stream of encouraging letters would keep his Grace happy.

As they broke apart John kept his hands on her shoulders. The two kept their eyes locked for a few moments, the words that were not said danced in the air between them. The moment neither of them ever thought would come had finally arrived.

Gracie watched as John turned and slowly began to walk away from her, and into the unknown. Right before boarding the boat, he turned to her once more as she called out to him.

“John?,” she asked. “Yeah Gracie?,” he called back, a small smile forming on this lips. “

“Please take care of yourself Johnny….and I’ll be waiting for my letters.” John could see her eyes lighting up as she shouted out to him.

“I will Grace, I promise I will. You’ll have plenty of letters don’t you worry.”

Gracie watched as her best friend boarded the boat. Moments later he appeared on the top deck, finding himself a spot next to the railing and stood waving to Gracie. A smile graced her lips as she watched him waving to her, and she would laugh when every so often he would do a salute. John noticed these laughs, and did them twice as much when he noticed she enjoyed them.

Gracie’s heart broke as she watched the boat sail away slowly. She stood and waved the John until she couldn’t see him anymore. Once the boat had sailed far enough, she let some tears finally fall down her cheeks.

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

[agent-oo-z]

Alright gaymers time for more BG3 companion headcanons! This time featuring my beloved Atavia!

Potential spoilers below, you’ve been warned!

Still no Minthara, I failed to rescue her during Atavia’s run

Halsin

Ultimate nature nerd buddies. Atavia and Halsin love just going full autism mode and discussing the nuances of plant identification/creature behavior/etc for hours on end.

Once Atavia and Halsin become a “thing” they are almost annoyingly in love. Constant pet names, lots of physical contact, getting distracted by each other. Astarion teases them about it relentlessly, not out of jealousy though. He’s not immune to envy but he trusts his partners to be open and honest and does his best to do the same.

Halsin and Astarion are less stereotypically lovey dovey with each other but only because Astarion shows his love by being a menace. He teases and makes jokes and gets all sarcastic. Halsin usually responds with sincerity, not because he doesn’t get it but because he enjoys the challenge of getting Astarion flustered. It doesn’t take long for the pair to develop a sixth sense about what’s going too far.

Astarion

Turns out having two(eventually three!) people who are willing to dedicate themselves to you heart and soul can be overwhelming, even when you want it more than anything. Astarion develops a “non sexual safe word” for moments when he needs to be left alone/given space. He usually only needs a moment to recenter.

Astarion ends up working with the society of brilliance and the Gur to study vampirism and search for a cure. Some of the spawn in the underdark volunteer to help test theories and potential cures. This involves everything from finding out what types of fabric/materials can be used to prevent sunlight from damaging their skin to studying potential non blood food sources. Astarion mostly works with his partners to search for artifacts like sunwalker rings and magical/alchemical cures.

Astarion is good with kids. Once he has time to rest and begin healing from his two centuries of trauma he finds that children don’t annoy/upset him as much anymore. Yenna lives with Halsin at moonrise and is especially fond of him, the pair often play together when he’s visiting.

Gale

Quickest way to his heart is to compliment his cooking. And not just “wow this is good!” compliments. The type that shows you actually noticed things like the unique seasonings or the plating.

Because he doesn’t divulge much about his personal life to his students and fellow professors he accidentally ends up the center of a minor scandal. Astarion makes a surprise appearance on campus during a stormy day to deliver Gale’s lunch(which he left at home) and kisses him in front of his morning class. Atavia had done the same on multiple occasions but was out of town at the time, so the students thought Gale was having an affair. Eventually another professor confronted Gale when Atavia surprised him at work(she had gotten home from her trip early) and Tavi just burst out laughing while Gale desperately tried to explain the situation. The next day Astarion and Tavi deliver his lunch together to put the rumors to bed.

Gale develops a whole host of modified and new spells after becoming a professor. This includes spells that allow for the indefinite storage and preservation of food(including blood), spells that allow individuals with sunlight sensitivity to go outside for up to 4 hours at a time during the day, and enchantments that can be applied to collars and armor that allow animals to speak with people. He also publishes certain spells anonymously, not exactly out of embarrassment but because he’s uncertain how it might impact his career. Basically all of them are modified spells for sexual encounters.

Wyll

After deciding to break his pact with Mizora, Wyll procures the prosthetic eye Volo has. He continues to use the sending stone eye up until he and Karlach enter the hells after the death of the netherbrain. Given he is no longer working for the cambion he “swaps” eyes and tosses the sending stone eye as far as he can.

He waits to propose to Karlach until about a month after her engine is stabilized. They’d been dating for a while at that point, but he didn’t want her to feel like she had to agree because he had helped with her engine. He also wanted time to prepare a proper elaborate fancy proposal because she deserves it. She says yes before he can even finish asking, he’s not even fully on one knee before she practically throws herself at him in a massive embrace.

When Tavi complements his skills as a ranger at the reunion party he almost explodes with joy. She’s one of the best ranger he’s worked with(the other being THE Minsc) so it truly means a lot.

Karlach

One of the few people that Tavi isn’t romantically involved with who is allowed to be super physical with her. Tavi isn’t opposed to friendly hugs and the like, but doesn’t do well with extended touch from those she’s not with. Karlach is just such a giant cuddly teddy bear that somehow Tavi doesn’t mind. She doesn’t even fully understand it herself. If Halsin or Astarion weren’t wrapped around her at camp it was Karlach in their place.

Once she’s able to permanently return to the material plane, Karlach becomes a legendary hero in her own right. She often joins her former companions when they go out on grand quests.

Karlach is called “Auntie Karlach” by the various offspring of the Tavi-cule. She’s the favorite of all the companions when it comes to baby sitting(at least for the children.) She loves kids of all ages, but especially enjoys spending time with those between the approximate ages of 7 to 10.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel eventually introduces her companions to Xan, the hatchling rescued from the crèche in the ruined monastery. Xan is just as fascinated by the material plane as his adopted mother was, and is delighted to interact with Tavi’s familiars and companion animals.

After the defeat of Vlaakith Lae’zel and Xan move in with Shadowheart. It was originally supposed to be just until Lae’zel could find her own place but turns out Shadowheart and Lae’zel are in fact very much in love still. Xan now has two moms.

Tavi helps Lae’zel learn about the courting practices of the sword coast so she can make her intentions clear to Shadowheart(and not at all because Lae’zel doesn’t want to fight her because the idea of causing her harm is deeply distressing) Lae’zel and Shadowheart do end up romantically sparring eventually, but it’s far less intense than standard Gith fighting.

Shadowheart

Before Lae’zel moves in, Shadowheart is a bit of a hermit. She makes time to visit her companions but otherwise spends her days tending to her animals and her gardens in relative solitude.

During her first visit to Waterdeep she joins the Tavi-cule for dinner. She ends up staying over because of how late into the night the conversation goes. The next morning she learns about Gale’s Modified Silence spell when joking that based on how disheveled Tavi looks she’s surprised she didn’t hear them. She asks Gale to make her some scrolls to take home, and encourages him to consider publishing them under a pseudonym.

Shadowheart and Astarion love to gossip. During the absolute adventure they would sneak away and chat in elvish to avoid being heard, and post adventure they keep up a correspondence. When they get together in person they can spend hours talking about the latest gossip while enjoying some good wine and snacks.

Jaheira

When Atavia is pregnant with her first child, Jaheira visits to give her advice and guidance. Most of it consists of “here’s how to not kill a baby” and “here are safe ways to manage your symptoms during and after pregnancy”. She helps Atavia and her partners set up a nursery in Gale’s tower because Tavi is worried about it looking nice while still being safe. She serves as a sort of safety auditor. Jaheira is also the “god mother” of all of the Tavi-cule children. She accepts on the condition she is never called anything like “granny.”

Jaheira often joins Tavi and Astarion(and whoever else is with them) when they go out searching for artifacts. She’s with them when they get their hands on a real sunwalker ring, the first time they find evidence of a cure for vampirism, and when they finally get their hands on the last thing needed for said cure. They start to jokingly call her a good luck charm.

She continues to work with the Harpers on and off. Geraldus is one of the few Harpers she genuinely enjoys working with and the two become good friends over time.

Minsc

Minsc is eventually able to communicate half decent information about the vampire cures Boo supposedly knows of. It’s one of those cures in particular that the Tavi-cule is able to find evidence of and actually create. And it works! Astarion complains about being indebted to a hamster, but privately thanks Minsc and Boo. Tavi is beside herself with pride for managing to pull it off despite the language barrier.

Minsc will randomly appear on the doorsteps of the various party members with no warning. He usually only stays for a day and rarely spends the night, but he always comes with unbelievable tales of his most recents adventures. He always makes an effort to visit after any of the party members have major life events to offer his support/congratulations/etc.

Atavia keeps a stash of Boo’s favorite treats on her person at all times. You never know when you’ll run into Minsc and she never wants to be caught unprepared.

BONUS: The Creatures

Scratch

Scratch goes to live with Alfira and Larkissa after the death of the netherbrain. Atavia makes an effort to stop by and say hello whenever she’s visiting the gate.

Owlbear Cub

Once the owlbear cub moves to the grove Atavia makes sure to bring some fancy smoked meats when she and Astarion visit to spend time with Halsin. She loves to curl up and nap with him under the sun.

Us

Taking the form of a cat in the eyes of all but the former adventuring party and their loved ones, Us ends up living at Gale’s tower. Tara and Morena eventually allow it to join their tea parties. It doesn’t drink any tea of course.

[etherial-moon-blog]

What could have been

Description- When reader discovers Lo’ak kissing Tisreya, she is left heartbroken and a shell of her former self. With some help from Neteyam, she slowly picks up the pieces of her broken heart. As time goes on Neteyam considers her more than just a friend but is unable to tell her before tragedy strikes, leaving him heartbroken and devastated. Strangely, he finds that his brother is going through the same ordeal and they both find solace in wondering what could've been.

Pairing: Lo’ak x Avatar!Reader | Neteyam x Avatar!Reader Warnings: Angst Crying, Brief mentions of depression  Wordcount: 2k

Na’vi dictionary: Mauri- woven hut | Tweng- loincloth

All characters depicted in this fic at 18+ minors dni

“...I see you.” When those words left her mouth, you felt your heart shatter. However, the next thing that happened ground those pieces into dust. Lo’ak leaned down and pressed his lips against Tsireya’s. The lips you had fantasized about pressing against yours were currently pressed against another girl. 

Slowly, you back out of your hiding spot and hurriedly leave the area, hand covering your mouth so that a sob doesn't slip out. That night you don’t return to the Sully mauri until late. You spent most of the night on a secluded part of the beach crying out your broken heart.

 It truly was broken, wasn’t it? Thoughts swirled around in your brain making your heart hurt worse than it already was. It was your fault. You should’ve confessed to him sooner, maybe if you had only confessed to him back in the forest, your heart wouldn't be laying shattered in your chest. 

It felt silly in a way, pining for a boy that you never thought you’d have a chance with. You loved him when you were still human and your love never changed when you became a Na’vi. You thought that your new boy would have him see you as more than his sister's best friend or as his best friend's sister. But it seemed he only saw you for what you were…..his friend. And despite your yearning to be more, the realization that he never saw you as anything more than that broke you. 

You cry for what feels like hours, exhausting your tears until you can’t anymore. Looking up from where you were crying into your legs, you see the sun has long since set. Wiping your face, you stand and make your way back to the mauri, silently hoping that nobody looked too hard at your face when you arrived. 

Making your way onto the woven pathway, your body robotically carries you toward the Sully mauri. Your hopes of going unnoticed were smashed into pieces when you see Jake, waiting at the entrance for you. A small sigh passes your lips as you near, ready to hear the lecture he was bound to give you.

“(y/n) Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you since dinner.” His tone is harsh but you can hear the undercurrent of worry in his words. Judging by how he sounded you knew you’d been out longer than you thought and had missed dinner. 

Gripping the strap of your bag anxiously, you only mumble out an apology while not looking at him. Unfortunately, Jake is too observant and notices your tear-streaked face and slightly red eyes. He sighs and pulls you into a hug. 

“Listen, I know it's hard having to leave behind everything especially when you’re doing it in a new body. But I swear it gets easier and in time you’ll adjust and then you’ll wonder how you ever lived differently.”

Right, he assumed you were crying because of your not being able to adjust to your new body which while true to an extent, wasn't the cause of your tears. Not wanting to admit what happened, you half-heartedly return the hug that Jake gives in earnest. He pulls away and gives you a small smile while rubbing your arms before releasing you to go inside. 

As you walk in you notice that everyone aside from Tuk is still awake. It made you feel worse honestly. Knowing that you caused everyone to worry about you so much that they stayed up to look for you. Kiri is the first to greet you at the door and presents you with food she saved for you. 

“Saved you some food, I figured you’d be hungry,” Kiri says. The sympathetic and concerned look she's giving you lets you know that she knows something is wrong but isn't willing to press it. Thankful and aware of the eyes on you, you take the food and make your way over to your little corner of the pod. If anybody wants to say something to you they don't, instead opting to get themselves ready for bed. You pick at the food, only taking small bites before setting it aside and getting ready for bed yourself. 

Kiri watched as you laid your mat closer to hers instead of being near her brother like usual. Though she didn’t say anything, the cogs in her brain were slowly turning and as she watched you lay down, she couldn’t help but notice your body shaking slightly.

~ Some time later~

The days blurred together as you went about your life on the island. You spent as little time as possible around Lo’ak and Tisreya. Despite your best efforts, every interaction you saw of the two drove the knife deeper, and not wanting to let your heartbreak known you decide the best way is to avoid them. 

Being around them when you had to was torture. Every interaction they had you noticed the subtle ways he showed his affection for her. You saw how much more touchy he was with her. He was always physically affectionate, always standing close or having his arm wrapped around your shoulders but with her it was different. 

With her, his touch was gentler, more affectionate. Whenever he hugged her he would linger as though he was basking in the warmth of her hug and it stung. You tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you and stand suddenly, causing everyone to look at you.

“You good bro?” Lo’ak asks as he and everyone else watches you grab your bag and pull it over your head. 

“M’fine. I have to go.” You mumble before quickly making your exit from where the group was sitting, tears forming in your eyes. You quickly make your way towards your secluded spot on the beach and immediately plop behind the first rock you see. 

The tears now flow freely as sobs begin to rack your body. You wanted to scream, but nothing would come out but the strangled sounds of your despair. You were crying so hard and so loudly that you barely heard the footsteps approaching and it wasn’t until you felt a hand on your shoulder that you realized someone else was there.

You nearly jumped out of your skin once the hand made contact with you. Jumping away, you furiously wipe at your eyes until you realize that you know who touched you. 

“N-Neteyam…what are you doing here?” Your voice was very obviously hoarse and it cracked as you spoke, causing you to wince. 

Neteyam, hands held up in surrender and brow furrowed began to speak. “When you took off I followed you to make sure you were okay. When I heard you crying I knew you weren’t okay. What’s going on? What happened back there?” 

You swallow thickly. Somebody had finally caught you crying and it was Neteyam of all people. He wouldn’t leave you alone until he was sure you were alright which is the last thing you wanted right now.

“I-I….” What were you supposed to say? ‘Hey, you caught me crying over your brother. He didn’t reject me, I was just too chickenshit to actually confess and now the sight of him and Tisreya makes me want to peel my own skin off and scream until I’m hoarse. Don’t worry tho I’m fine.’ 

Wiping your eyes again you swallow once more and begin to talk. “I’m sorry I just…I really miss Spider and Home. It’s been hard adjusting to Spider going missing, getting a new body, and moving in such a short time span.” Okay, you just lied to him. Not everything you said was a lie but you weren’t going to tell Neteyam you were crying over his brother. 

“Do you…would you like to talk about it?” He asks hesitantly. He’s trying his best to comfort you and despite lying to him just now, you feel the need to convince him you’re alright. 

“Thanks but no thanks. I really don’t wanna talk about it. The crying was my way of getting it all out you know?” Neteyam nodded as you spoke, seemingly understanding your desire to cry it out instead of talking about it.

He outstretches his hand and gently places it on your shoulder. “If you want, you could cry if you need to now.” He seems to have a sudden realization and quickly removes his hand before adding, “I-if you want to that is”

Your hand flies to your mouth and you turn from him. He sees your shoulders shaking and begins to panic. He begins to rapidly throw out apologies and words of affirmation until he hears your stifled laughter and calms. 

It takes a moment for you to fully calm down but when you do, you turn to him, hand still covering your mouth. 

“I’m sorry, I swear I’m not laughing at what you said…” A giggle slips out. “...just how you said it. Who knew the great Neteyam Sully was so awkward?” You say with a smile.

Neteyam cracks a smile and shakes his head. “You caught me. I’m not great at everything, just at most things.” 

You let out a faux scandalized gasp and Neteyam laughs in response. “I know right? Kinda shocking that I’m not the best at comforting people who aren't eight.”

With a laugh, you shove him playfully. “I don’t know, I think you’re doing a decent enough job.”

“Only okay? My pride is hurt” He says placing a hand over his heart as he attempts to sound hurt. 

“You’re doing a decent job. I don’t wanna give you an ego” You say as you turn to look at the ocean. If Neteyam wants to say something he doesn’t, instead option to let the conversation lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments you reach over to your bag and pull out your well-worn journal, you flip until you find a blank page and begin to sketch. 

Neteyam, curious leans over but you lean away from him as he tries to peek. “Uh uh. No peeking, don’t you know it's bad luck to watch an artist draw?’ You say with a smile. He gives you a look but does as you ask, instead looking out at the vast expanse of the ocean in the light of the evening sun. 

After what feels like forever, you nudge him gently, journal turned towards him. “I’m not the best but I think I captured it well no?” Neteyam takes the journal from your hands and looks at the drawing in awe. In front of his eyes laid a perfect sketch of…him. You had gotten everything correct. His nose, his eyes, everything right down to how his braids sat over his shoulder. As he sat in awe of your drawing, you shifted a bit from your spot in the sand.

“I know it isn't the best bu..” As you were speaking you were cut off by Neteyam

“Sorry, this is just amazing. I can’t believe you drew this of me” The amazement and wonder in his voice caused a smile to spread across your face. You turn your journal back around and begin to tear the page out and once you're done you hold it out for him to take. 

He stares at your hand holding the drawing before shaking his head. “No. No, I can’t take this.” He says pushing your hand back. “Dude c’mon you have to take it, I’ve already ripped the page out so I can’t put it back.” You shake the page in his direction. “Take it” He wordlessly takes the page from you, admiring it one last time before folding it neatly and tucking it away into the waterproof pouch on his tweng. 

He gives you a small smile before looking out into the direction of the sea. “We should probably get going, dinner is starting soon and we don’t want to be late.” He stands and dusts himself off before offering you a hand.”

“Actually I think I’ll stay here for a little while longer, but I’ll be there soon.” You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. If he notices he doesn't say anything and gives you a smile and a nod before walking back towards the village. 

As soon as he’s out of earshot, you heave a heavy sigh and put away your sketchbook. You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your chin atop your knees. Looking out onto the open ocean, you can’t help but wonder what your life could've been if you had confessed earlier……..

Authors Note: This fic is part one of a two part fic. That might change later but it depends on how motivated I am to write lol. If you made it this far I hope you enjoyed! :) Dividers by cafekitsune

Taglist: @melllinaa @fev0ir @iaratezaewa @hotdsworld @zaddyskye69 @kasai-https @darktyrantwinner @doctorswife221b @atxxokirina @iameatingmyhair @thepineapplesimp @lo707 @lyra997 @shadydreamlanddetective @atokirina-writings @plooto @luvv4j4ybe11 @xylianasblog @criticallybella

[saras-almanac]

BuckTommyWeekend Day 2: A figure from their past

BuckTommyWeekend Day 2: A figure from their past

Title:  What we have

Fandom:  911 (ABC)

Pairing:  Buck/Tommy

Summary:  Buck had complicated feelings after they run into Abby. Luckily, Tommy is there to comfort him. For the prompt: A figure from their past for @bucktommyweek

Notes: I have a lot of thoughts about Abby and her relationship with Buck (plus just thoughts on her character in general). And this is a part of something much longer I’d written but it was just bits and pieces—the meeting, the aftermath, Tommy talking with Athena or Maddie, this scene—just too much going on and too much to write in a day when my brain was still coming up with the actual idea for this. So this is what I’ve got.  

Tommy hadn’t thought much of this meeting Abby at the time. Apparently she was in town for some meeting or other for one of her stepdaughters and him and Evan had happened to run into her as they were leaving the restaurant they had brunch at.

Evan had gotten a bit quiet but smiled and politely introduced him as “This is Tommy,” before Abby started telling him about her life. It was about three minutes of a quick catch up before Evan and him continued on their way out and honestly, Tommy hadn’t thought it was strange.

But now It’s been over a week since he’d last seen Evan and he was trying not to worry or get caught up in his own head about what this all might mean. He was off today, so maybe Tommy could convince him to meet up for lunch or at least just talk later today.

Thankfully the doorbell rang at that moment, pulling Tommy out of his potential spiral.

He opened the door and there stood Evan, holding two coffees and a bag of food.

“I brought coffee and burritos,” Evan said.

Tommy ushered him in and followed him to the kitchen. “It’s been a minute. But I’m happy to see you.”

“Me too.” Evan set everything on the counter, dropping his duffel on the floor, and then turned to him, basically wrapping himself around Tommy.

“Is everything all right?”” Tommy asked.

“Yes,” Evan said. “I mean, it’s getting there?”

“Would you want to tell me about what you’re thinking about?” Tommy asked, pulling away and gently pushing Evan toward the stool by his counter. “While you eat a little something.”

Evan sat down but made no move toward his food. He sighed. “I told you about Abby. My ex. The one we ran into a couple weeks ago.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah. I mean, a little.”

“Right, well seeing her sort of threw me off—Not because I’m dating you or freaking out about my bisexuality and stuff,” Evan rushed to reassure him. “It just… I guess it just brought a lot of old feelings, things that trigged some old insecurities. And I wasn’t expecting it. I mean, it’s been years and looking back, it’s not even like we were really together together so I don’t know really what happened.”

“Feelings can be surprising,” Tommy said. “They come back around in the strangest ways sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Evan said. “But I don’t even think about her anymore. I don’t. I’m not like in love with her or want her back or anything--I swear.”

“I didn’t think you did, but thank you for the reassurance,” Tommy said. “Seeing people who used to play a big part in our lives brings up a lot of emotions. And that’s okay.”  

“That’s what Dr. Copeland said too,” Evan said shaking his head. “I called her because it just triggered a lot of feelings, feelings of insecurity that I thought I’d dealt with. But when you come face-to-face with your biggest failure those feelings can come back.”

“You and Abby not working out is not a failure,” Tommy said.

“I know that. Now,” Evan said. “But it’s what happened when I saw her again. It was my first relationship where I did everything right. I followed everyone’s advice, everyone’s ideas, followed Abby’s lead. I did everything I was supposed to. And she left anyway. Which, I don’t have to tell you made me panic and worry about you, about us.”

“Well, I’d argue that we haven’t’ done anything right in the way that other people would have it or do it,” Tommy said, nudging Evan with his shoulder. “But I also can’t’ say that we’ve done nothing right because a look where we are, what we have.”

“That’s what I realized,” Evan admitted. “At least part of it.”

“What’s the other part?” Tommy asked.

“So it’s like this,” Evan said, amping up and already starting to gesture with his hands. “I think I thought so highly of Abby for so long, right? She was this woman who was mature and knew what she wanted and had a whole life and still wanted me; it’s like she made me better or at least want to be a better man. And after she left, I was terrified that she’d taken that part of me with her, the mature Buck, the guy who was dependable and worthy.”

Tommy clenched his jaw because he hated hearing Evan talk about himself in terms of worthiness or usefulness. Granted, it was a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, but Tommy usually operated under a “do as I say, not as I do” policy.

“And seeing her again, seeing her with you just put so much into perspective for me,” Evan said. “I always thought of her as my first real relationship, but seeing her next to you, knowing what we have, how you treat me, it finally dawned on me that we didn’t have a relationship. Or we did, but like not the one I wanted, the one I thought we had.”

Tommy gently moved the coffees out of the way. “And what was that?”

“I thought we had this amazing relationship where we could be ourselves, someone I could share myself with and someone who wanted that too,” Evan said. “But I think I was just a physical presence for her during a hard time in her life. Someone who was there, who helped shoulder some of the weight, and then someone she just left behind because I didn’t matter to her. Not like I wanted to.”

Evan sighed. “And then I just saw her standing next to you and couldn’t help but think about all the things you know about me, the things you like about me, and I realized that she never really knew me at all.”

“It doesn’t sound like she did,” Tommy said gently, carefully. “Because if she had, I doubt she’d have been able to leave.”

“See and that,” Evan said, reaching over to grab Tommy’s hand. “You’d never do that to me. To anyone really. You’d never just take off, knowing you were done with me, without telling me. Yeah, it would crush me to lose you, but you’d still at least tell me. You wouldn’t leave me hanging on, waiting for any words of our future when you had no plans to come back.”

Evan squeezed his hand between both of his. “I just, I love you so much and I feel so lucky to have you in my life that sometimes I panic that I’m not quite good enough for you. And I want to be.”

Tommy reached out, cradling Evan’s cheek in his hand. “You are good enough. You’re more than good enough for me.”

“Even when I’m having a crisis and stupidly keep myself from you for 12 days?” Evan asked.

“Even then,” Tommy assured him, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

[emo-trash88]

Hi! I have a request if you don’t mind. Could you please write hc’s of Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, and Lucifer x platonic reader who’s a fem boy theater kid? You don’t have to of course.

Yeah ofc! As a recovering theater kid myself, this will definitely be an interesting thing to write today. Also I apologize that this has been sitting undone for almost a month 😭

Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, and Lucifer x Theater kid! Reader

Pronouns: Second person, implied male (cause femboy)

Tw:

Alastor -

- So this man???

- Fucking loves you to your core.

- Like he is the embodied of radio, so the fact you like musicals or just anything music related makes you an automatic 10/10 friend to him.

- Would sing musical songs with you too, and would actually be good at it too??

- He also makes jokes about broadcasting you on his radio show, but just leaves it at that.

- Just to be safe don't ever go on it.

- As for you being a femboy, man does not care

- Like he's chill with Angel dust, and probably other femboys (I can't think of anymore characters who are femboys, sue me.)

- Over all, 7/10, little worried he may or may not actually kill you live.

Angel Dust -

- Bro...

- Y'all twinning fr.

- Femboy + musical nerd combo honestly slays.

- Will preform musicals with you, tried his hardest to sing but he's a fucking tenor and most men are baritones (at least from what I know pookies) so it's a little goofy occasionally

- But he honestly doesn't give a singular shit as to any of that, long as you're happy

- 20/10, he slays hardcore, and at least he tries.

Husk -

- I actually don't know what to write for him???

- Like I don't think he would care?????

- He just likes chilling, so as ling as you can keep a good conversation going for monger than 20 seconds, then it's all good.

- 5/10, he's confusing me y'all

Lucifer -

- JERMEY JORDAN MY HUSBAND

- Anyways, yes he's Jermey Jordan y'all.

- Sings with you constantly, like CONSTANTLY

- Y'all also sometimes use the ducks to remake the musical

- It's so silly goofy

- As for you being a femboy...

- He's legit the ruler of hell, he will get you all of the clothing and makeup you want

- Like thats a promise.

- 10/10, just the perfect amount of support and love.

Sorry this is like oddly short 😭 I just felt there wasn't really much to say, but I hope you enjoyed!!