#I wonder if they hate me. I acted out cus of my emotions and thoughts and feelings. and they hated it. so that must mean they hate me right?

[peapod20001]

Me: wow I’ve never been so alone in my life and everything is sad and my body is cold :,,(

*realizes I haven’t eaten in 10 hours*

Me: so anyways everything I’ve felt in the past hour and a half is fake

[pryllee]

Come and get me.

Content: Yandere/Stalker Ajax, Lil bit of a blowjob, Reader is switch, AFAB reader, "Healing" but its actually not, Masturbation, Toxic relationship, Both are lowkey obsessed, Public(?) sex, Nosebleeds, impregnation, name carving onto skin

Pair: Ajax x Fem! Reader

A/N: Bare with the writing if it's bad since I wrote this like last year, I recently privated it cus I thought it was prob kinda cringe but I lowk like the sex part...

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part 1 / part 2 (coming soon)

Tears trickled down your cheek, his hand plastered to your neck as you felt him fill you to the brim, legs shaking in ectasy but also with fear. You were so unsure of what to think right now, Struggling to support yourself with your arms clenching onto the wrinkled sheets.

The way you spasmed around him was blissful, your moaning combined with whimpers was such a wonderful melody.

You wish you could fully enjoy it but you felt like a stress relief toy, nevertheless you loved being stretched out by his cock, wrapping around it as if you'd never feel it again.

And you really wished you never would, until now you try to fulfill it.

You ran away, obviously. Ahem, As I was saying, you ran away to a place in Liyue, and rented a small house with the bag of mora you stole from him while sneaking out.

But after a few years, you started to feel lonely, missing how he fucked you so hard, abusing your clit. He did it so often to you to the point you've gotten used to it and became hypersexual.

You hated it. You hated how you missed his touch. You hate how you know he never actually loved you but you tried to assure yourself he'd think about your own health one day.

Beads of water fell down your chin as you rubbed your clit, shoving fingers inside but it never felt enough, as each day passed, you felt yourself getting more and more needy.

Sometimes, you felt eyes on you. But you didnt care. And a few times, it'd feel intriguing to have someone watch you, especially if its him...

You have been hoping every year for him to come and find you, but you were met with disappointment everytime. But this is what you wanted, wasnt it?

Trying to hide this side of yourself fron your friends. "Hey xia..." You sat down, trying to act as normal as you can while clenching onto your thigh to relieve the need. "Hey! I'll get you something on the house this time! It'll be extra special too, after all you are my bestfriend!" She smiled happily, while going onto cook as you watched her from outside. Suddenly Hu Tao pops up scaring you once again.

"Hi! Heard there'll be something on the house, can I have some?" She exclaimed excitedly as Xiangling looked concerned for you and a little annoyed at Hu Tao, but decided to just take it as a joke anyway, "Coming right up!"

"Anyway, I'm gonna start some gossip now, Apparently a harbinger is here again on some business, They've been at every other nation already, I kind of expected this but do you guys maybe know why they're going to every nation especially here now?" She asked whilst smiling.

A harbinger?? Like a fatui harbinger? I wonder if its him... Hes probably forgotten about me by now. Its been years after all.

Your expression faded into a frown.

You had such mixed emotions about him, you love him but you dont, you always think about coming back to him but you're scared. You're scared of just being a stress relief toy again. You want to be something more than tha..–

"Uhm..." You snap from the train of thoughts, as you try to look at Hu Tao you notice someone is blocking the way.

...

"I cant believe we're meeting again! Perhaps fate wants us to be together..." Hu Tao gets up, and defends you by covering you with her arms wide open, "Im sorry, but who are you to her?"

"Shes right! How do you know [Y/N]?!" You felt your heart drop. But also feel a bit of sadness and guilt for him. Tears threatnening to spill like crazy as you try to hold them back. "Calm down, I'm just here to give her something." Cheerfully said, it made you feel disgusted. Nauseous, afraid, relieved. "Its fine...guys—Hes just..." I pause. I want to run away. Why cant I? Whats wrong with me? I hate myself. Im scared.

A few beads of water run down your cheek, as you hear him getting up, your friends completely confused as he wipes your tears, placing something in your hands as he walks away happily. "What the actual fu–" Xiangling rushes to put her palm over Hu Taos mouth. "I think she prefers to not talk about this... –She starts whispering in her ear– Who the actual fuck was that??" she looks at xiangling, an expression saying ’girl what.’

"Its fine, whens the food ready Xia?" The first words are shaky, with your heart thumping like crazy. Trying to calm yourself down, wiping your eyes. "Oh! It should be ready about now!" She stops the fire, Grabbing two plates getting it ready to be served. "Be careful, its super duper hot" She smiled "Xiangling... How much chilis did you add in mine?" Hu Tao smiled fakely with a sarcastic irk mark popping up "U–uhmm.." "GET OVER HERE!!!"

She yelled as she chased Xiangling who started running away. I stare confusedly, before turning to an item Ajax placed in my hands. You flushed red, but you couldn't tell why, because you've finally got your hopes fulfilled, or if you were embarrassed and scared. Ah, this feels repetitive somehow.

As you get home after spending some time with them, you open the box hurriedly he gave as soon as you plopped down on your bed. "Meet me at xxxx-xxx at 9 hihihi^⁠_⁠^" Beneath the note was a pair of lingerie. The box feels a couple of years old, is it because hes been looking for me... or perhaps Im getting my hopes up.

Should I go...? You stare at the ceiling, contemplating it as its already 7. "Its unbelivable he still writes in that shitty way." You chuckle... till you heard rustling from outside a window. You get up so fast, turning to the source. Walking to it while picking up a dagger on your nightstand.

Opening it, to find nothing, but a small camera that fell on a bush and got stuck. You felt sick. Now you were really sure you hate him. Or are you just denying your feelings again? Who knows anymore. You decide to go meet him and confront him.

The location is a fancy restaraunt, so you've also decided to look your best in hopes of meeting a handsome dude during it.

till you've realized after coming inside... he rented the entire place. He smiled, Head resting ontop of his hands, elbows against the table as he admires you.

Scanning your entire body even through the table. "I was expecting you to not show up, How lucky I am!" His cheeriness made you annoyed. "...Lets get to the point. Why did I find this outside my window?" You slam the camera down onto the table. He glances at it, his smile fading away, looking back at you with a dull expression. "Hm..." He placed his hand against his chin, trying to think of something.

Your mouth started to water at how hot he looked for a second as you felt that same need pop up again, blushing a bright red from embarrassment as you sit down, retreating your hand back. "Huh? Whats wrong with you all of a sudden?" To no avail, you dont respond, wiping your mouth. "Hmm... Come here." He pat his leg. Signalling you to come over and sit on his lap.

"Are you crazy? Why would I do that...?" You scoff, "Its not like you have a choice now that you came here, I'm sure you know I dont like resorting to force." "How about you make me?" He annoyingly stares. "You're really making me do it? Fine." He walks over, and you already start to regret it, getting up from your seat and walking to the other side from the table as him.

"I–Ill do it- I'll sit down." You shiver. "Well you're stubborn huh." He sits back down on his seat, Looking at you, and looking back at his lap. You shyly sit down on his lap, feeling scared as you can clearly see he brought a knife with him. One of his arms wraps around you, and the other slides down your thigh as you flush red.

"What if people see us?" Hes nips at your bare neck, making you shiver. Its been so long since you've done it. "Mhm..." He lets you off of his lap, and you start to feel disappointed. Till he signals to go down the table, Just what is he plotting? You decide to go down, its so dark under here,

After all there is a long white cover... you accidentally grab onto his knee, while almost falling down and you feel an arm pull you closer. "Suck it," He demanded. "Hurry up, I'm getting impatient." You gritted your teeth annoyed. You try to find it, and there it is, its practically begging to be let out, its bulging so hard.

You unzip his pants, finally letting it free, as you grip onto it, hearing him grunt a little. You stroke it a few times, Has it gotten larger...? "You slide your mouth up and down it, tasting a bit of precum. "Fuck, Hurry up and put it in your mouth, you dont understand how long I've been waiting ever since you ran away like an idiot."

You try to take it in fully, But you just gag like crazy, coughing and almost hitting your head. An arm reaches out, and pats you as you try again, Taking it in slowly. Tears are frantically falling down, as you start to get more and more wet by the second along with a sore throat. You're having so much trouble because its been years,

it feels so much more girthy, you shove a few fingers down your undergarments, stroking your needy clit, and across your folds your hands are covered with your juices as you already cummed. He grunted some more but he started to sound more and more annoyed till he dragged you out, your perfect hair was ruined,

and you were dripping wet. You were already a mess when you both havent even actually started. He placed you down on his lap, as you felt his abs through the shirt and his dick pressing against your back. He looks up at you as you blush a bright red, your eyes shifting everywhere. "Fuck off, dont look at me like that..." He chuckles, his hand raising to cover his face as he does,

Before he fists his hair into a ball. "Tell me, and dont lie, how long have you wanted my dick inside of you for?" He sucks on a a spot of your breast, while pushing your dress down to reveal it. "For...ever since I ran away." He smiles, "Oh really? Do you need it now?" "Y...–yes.. 'Need it so bad." You bite your lip in frustration, as you try to unbutton his shirt. "Go on, ride me like the whore you are." He feels even harder that before... You move up, placing yourself on his tip, slowly trying to enter as he holds onto your arm to support you. "Hnngh..~...mmn.." As he abruptly pushes you down full, filling you to the brim, you yelp loudly, as you shake like crazy. Trying to take some deeps breathes to process what just happened, "Fucking asshole– Let me take my sweet time." He kisses you on the lips, "Mhm..~ Cant wait anymore longer though, love." Half of his shirts buttons are unbuttoned and you can see his abs along with some scars. His face is so unreasonably attractive when he smiles like that. "Right..." You slowly move up and down, as you start to feel that same euphoria you've been longing for. Your pace fastens, bobbing yourself up and down like crazy. "Haaah!!~ Fuck! Ajax...!!~ S–sso bi—g.." His hand latches onto your ass, digging into its plush, as you feel yourself getting so close, you can feel every hot smooth inch of him after so long. "Fuck... You're such a slut with this pace. This is the first in years we're doing it and you're already cock drunk." He sucks on your breast, moving his hand to your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion and the other pinching your nipple, he leaves hickeys on your chest as you stop to cum, still having him inside of you as he stops rubbing, You fall onto him exhausted,

"Uh-uh we're not done here." He pushes you onto the table having full view of your body as he takes his gloves off, latching onto your waist making you shiver from how cold his hands feel. He leans into kiss you, starting to thrust sloppily as you felt blood trickle down from your nose.

Your moans and whimpers are muffled with the kiss, His tongue swirling with yours as your breast starts to press against his chest, His arm wrapping around your waist and the other wraps around from behind onto your shoulder. You feel yourself close again, his pace starting to quicken with one of his hands moving down to rub your clit again,

his mouth moving away, nipping your lips drawing blood as he sucked on your neck constantly biting parts of your body. You snapped, cumming alot as he did too, his seed spilling out of you down onto the floor, your juices with his cum mixed, as everything was messy, hes even getting you pregnant too. After all, if you concieve his child wont you both get married and stay together forever?

but thats not enough.

He pulls a knife out, dragging it through your skin as you start bleeding and whimper as a reaction to it even when your unconcious. He carves his name into your arm, smiling as he licks the blood after he finishes.

"I love you... I love you... dont ever leave me again... it was so hard..." He burrowed his head into your neck, eyes rolling up as he cooes there, sitting still inside of your unconcious body.

.

.

.

You gasp, waking up with a throbbing headache. looking around you to find Ajax beside you, sleeping peacefully with swollen eyes and a bloodied knife on the nightstand. "Ah... this is my house." You raised your hand to your forehead till you felt the immense stinging pain on your arm, noticing his names been carved in.

"Is he fucking serious?" He suddenly wakes up, still half asleep confused on whats happening. "[Y/N]...? Are you there..?" He rubs his eyes swaying his arms around blindly trying to find you.. "Huhuhu... did you leave me again.." He starts crying again like a child. "Um. I'm right here...?" You take him into your arms, burrowing his head into your chest feeling his tears.

...

He smiles. but in what way?

[lookismfanfics]

asking for samuel fluff cus lord 😔🤞 I LOVEEEEEE UR FICS BTW I CANT GET ENOUGH OF OF THEM OMFG

𝐀𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞

Samuel Seo x GN Reader

Drabble

Warnings: It’s not in my usual head cannon-thing format 😳 Fluff, unedited, probably brainrot, cursing, fem pronouns may have slipped in there…

Samuel rests his head in his hands. He wonders what the hell he did to deserve this agony. He knows he’s been a bit of an arse lately, but for the world to curse him even further was a bit unnecessary. Even a little insulting.

He felt like life almost always dealt him a bad hand. For example… today… He’s sitting on an expensive hotel bed, waiting for Eugene to call him to the conference room. Kneading his forehead tenderly, using his rough finger-pads to massage his temples. Samuel has a massive headache. It feels like his hairline is splitting… there’s a sharp throb in the center of his forehead. It reminds him of all his worst hangovers; but amplified. And this time he didn’t have someone doting on him… soothing him and nursing him like a pathetic baby. Even if neither of you really expressed genuine concern or gratitude, you were both aware of the feelings were there.

He feels so, so stupid. Like a pathetic, helpless wimp. And he hates it. But simultaneously, his emotions contradict. As he rubs soothing circles into his temples, letting out heavy breaths of frustration.

“I’m so pathetic…” he says bitterly. And even if it sounds sour to say out loud… he can feel warmth in his chest. As much as he tells himself how infuriating it is to be doted-on and pampered, he can never stop the smile that curves on his lips. He’s never admitting it… but it’s not as bad as he makes it seem.

His fingers hover over your number. You’re only a couple rooms away. You’re so close to him. More than capable of helping alleviate the pain in his head. You answer the phone. “(Y/N)?” He almost hates the way your name rolls off his tongue so easily, like second nature. Almost. “Today sucks,” he sighs. “I got a headache.”

There’s a pause on the other side of the line. He can hear (Y/N) rummaging through some loose papers. Admittedly, he does feel a little irked at their apparent lack of concern. His blood spores release a heavy tint of color in his cheeks and neck. He’s so damnably uncomfortable- but he can’t help himself from craving your presence. “What do you want me to do about it, Sammy?” You finally. Even the sound of your voice relieves the pain in Samuel’s head. It’s like antidote he didn’t know he needed.

He feels like letting out a frustrated sigh, but holds back. His brows furrow into a tight knit. Fingers stroke loosely through his thick threads of hair, he rubs his palm against his forehead. “You have time to come over, don’t you?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement. Samuel “hates” when you act all difficult.

He hates the way your nonchalance sends more waves of heat up his body. This is so childish. The way he suddenly wants to close up, or smile and giggle like a schoolgirl- it’s absolutely childish.

You let out a small chuckle, “Yeah I guess I do.”

There’s a pause before you continue. Outwardly Samuel is slouching on his bed, still kneading his forehead and leaning into the phone. Inwardly he’s smirking broadly despite his obvious giddiness.

“What’s your room number?” You ask.

“302.”

“All the way up there…?”

“F*ck you.”

“Shut up. I’ll be there soon.”

Samuel concludes that sick days aren’t so bad when (Y/N) is around. Hangovers aren’t as unbearable as he originally thought. Random headaches are tolerable. Just as long as (Y/N) is around to dote on him. Just as long as he can feel their fingers stroking through his hair as he drifts off to sleep. Listen to them make phone calls, telling his subordinates and fellow Executives that he’s unable to attend work. As long as he can feel their knuckles brush against his cheek, and watch wordlessly as they pamper him. If (Y/N) is available to baby him (as much as he hates the term) then he’ll be alright. In fact… he sort of likes it.

At the end of the day, he might just return your affection. Your lips press warmly against his temple. “G’night Samuel.”

His lips brush hesitantly against your neck. “Night.”

A/N: Anon you’re so sweet! :,) Sorry everyone for being so inactive! And sorry to my male! Reader anons who requested things forever ago! I will finish them asap 😭

Also this is sorta dedicated to @wannaeatramyeon for their Vin Jin spams that inspired me to post again 🥲

[dae-daetargaryen]

The Fire Within Us -Chapter Twelve

A/N: i included a canon rumour from the book and it did not make it in the show, and made Rhae Rhae roast someone here 💀

He could not stand there any longer, wincing at the sight of what he claimed to be a lie, unable to walk inside.

He refuses to believe it; that this is the man his daughter wanted.

He knew it, and he could not bear to witness them.

His emotions overwhelmed him, and he knew he had to leave. 

The thought of engaging with the situation was too much for him to bear.

The Prince's eyes catch him as flees, Daemon's own fear growing within him.

He knew his brother's heart would shatter, but his pride still reigns.

His plans have not changed, he will finally ask for her hand in order to get them both what they wanted so much and no one and nothing matters; once he will get what he always longed for, at the same time however, his guilt has already devoured him whole.

As she walks past them, their conversation dies down, bowing in respect before gossiping again.

They are possibly faking it, her mind roars as she continues to stride faster, mumbling quietly under her breath on why Alicent requested to meet her in the Godswood at once.

Truth is she didn't care about it. Let them whisper, her inner voice said, sighing before opening the door leading to the Godswood.

She sees Alicent, dramatically turning around,donning the colors of her house.

So, this is the Queen? The one who squeezed out a boy just to supplant her?

What a pathetic cu-

" What has happened, Rhaenyra?" 

Oh, how dare she.

She hardly knows anything about them.

"What do you mean?" 

She hated the way her mouth quivers when she hears her again.

"My father has made worrying allegations about you."

Because it was all true, and she regrets nothing.

"What is it that you all worry about?"

The Princess walks closer, maintaining a close distance as she circles about the small area around them.

"That I have chosen to spend days in Dragonstone? That I have been with my Uncle for too long?" 

"Because you let him fuck you."

Silence reigned shortly before Rhaenyra replied.

"This is a vile accusation." She scoffs, already fed up at the sight before her.

"Is it? You Targaryens do have queer customs. " 

"Who made these claims to you, Your Grace?"

She mocks, the flame visible in her eyes that Alicent could almost see it.

"See? You could not answer. I guessed you have heard it from your father, he never gets tired of spreading such odious gossip."

"It is no gossip and he reported it to the King,I overheard."

The Queen pushed, trying to make her face the truth.

"So, you are accusing me of slanders, Your Grace? " 

Yet again,the Princess speaks defiantly, concealing the cold truth as much as possible.

"I am the Realm's Princess. To question my virtue is an act of treason." 

"No." Alicent objects firmly like a Queen, and Rhaenyra's eyes horridly bore into hers, fed up by her presence.

"Daemon certainly knows no limit." 

And that's when Rhaenyra's eyes pierce more into hers.

"Why are you overly concerned as if you were his wife?" 

She asks innocently, searching the Queen's eyes for an answer.

Alicent could not deny it. 

As soon as the moon reached its place, Alicent stood inside his room, fulfilling Daemon's wish.

He had asked for her presence, and she couldn't help but wonder why he asked for her to join him this evening, especially at this late hour.

"My Prince," She greeted him coyly, watching him close the doors of his room behind them.

She innocently batted her lashes as he peered in front of her. 

"I have noticed the way you look at me, Alicent," He says, his mouth dangerously moved towards her slender neck, nibbling at her flesh and chuckling when her head falls back from the pleasure his mouth had made.

" My prince..." She tries to pull away, but lets him consume her despite her plea.

"I despise your father, "

He seduces, whispering in her ear, turning her around swiftly, and bent her onto a table, ripping her dress off and roughly touched her aching skin.

"But I cannot hate you. You are just a sweet, innocent thing, and I want you to feel me inside of you."

She could not hold back her moans as he fucked her like she was common.

And when he finally claimed her, and that's when she started to foolishly fall for him.

It was a gossip that her father refused to believe at first.

"Did you honestly believe I was clueless? That is precisely why your father holds such animosity towards him." The Princess sarcastically says as if she tears her apart.

"It was a long time ago, Rhaenyra, it does not matter now,"

"It happened anyway, he used you and you let him. It was a proven tale."

Alicent could not blink, cold guilt washing her all over, hearing the words Rhaenyra fired back.

It was all true.

"Sadly, I am not the princess who whored her way here just after making Dragonstone a pleasure house."

She cleverly said, despite seeing her erupting nearly in front of her.

But Rhaenyra didn't let those words affect her.

"Daemon never touched me." She says, concealing the cold truth despite Alicent's accusation.

"Besides, my father would not let anything disrupt my reputation, because I am to inherit the Iron Throne." 

She responds yet again, boldly challenging her.

"You and your ambitious father are adept in making such tales, so do as much as you like."

As she prepares to leave, she turns to her, this time, her words hit her like cold bricks.

"It did not happen and Daemon did not fuck me like a common whore,"

The Queen can barely stand, taking in her words as her insides crumble.

"And if he does, he will certainly never fuck me like one."

She taunts her, and smiles as she makes her way back to the Keep.

"Your Grace."

It was not long before Daemon himself was summoned; the guards pulling him to his feet, harshly bringing him to kneel before the King.

Viserys curses under his breath as soon as the guards left, leaving them behind as he observes his reckless younger brother.

The Prince drowned himself in liquor that night, but it was not strong enough to rinse it all, as he tries to forget everything.

But he could not bring himself to forget her.

And there he lies, drunk and miserable in front of him.

"My daughter, won't you even deny it?" 

He did not change, and he still replies like the stubborn boy he was in his younger days.

"I need to understand the charge before I can discredit it-"

"You defiled her," Viserys hisses, giving him a painful kick right on the middle of his back.

"And still you say nothing." 

Daemon looks up at him, his hooded eyes meeting his as he speaks again.

"What does it matter, brother..." He slurs.

"When we were Rhaenyra's age we fucked our way through most of the brothels on the Street of Silk.."

Of course, but they were young men.

"She is just a girl; your niece," The King said, frustratingly pacing around the room.

"Rhaenyra is a woman grown, better her first experience be with me than some whore." Daemon shifts, sitting up as he sleepily says.

"YOU FUCKING-" 

He flinches as his brother lunges at him, grabbing his collar, his neck hurting from the sudden movement.

"You ruined her, what lord will wed her now in this condition?"

Despite the pain he felt on his neck, he manages to grasp his hands, holding them tightly as he begins to hiss back at him, his forehead vein popping up, as the flames within their eyes become more visible than ever.

"Who gives a fuck at what some lord thinks? You are the dragon, your word is truth and law."

Viserys held him tighter, bringing him closer.

"I have spent a lifetime defending you, and your heart is even blacker than I thought." 

He lets go of him, unable to stand his presence as Daemon desperately mutters something under his breath.

"She is only a girl, Daemon. My only child."

Daemon looks up at him, unsure of what he is about to say before decides to confess.

"I love her, Brother."

He says sincerely, clear and true.

The moment he said that, it seems like time stopped, he had heard him say that before.

Rhaenyra was just a babe, nine months old, with Aemma gently handing her to him.

It was the very first time he held her in his arms, and Viserys could not help but melt with Aemma at the sight of them.

"I love her, Viserys."

With that, he gives him the hardest blow, knocking him down; it didn't hurt him physically, he is used to it, but his heart shatters the moment he realizes that he drives them apart even more.

"I trusted you, Daemon. I trusted you with all my life." 

His brother said, choking up as he watched him rise, towering over him, the Rogue Prince more desperate than ever, desperate enough to do anything he can so that may claim what he wanted.

"Then wed her to me," He impetuously said, his ambitious self emerging despite all of his guilt.

"When I offered up my crown, you said I could have anything, I want 

Rhaenyra."

Viserys could not believe his ears as he takes that all in. His brother is a fool, thinking that he could claim her so easily.

"I will take her as she is like Aegon did with his sisters."

The dagger cuts his throat a little as soon as Viserys unsheathes it, a small scratch cutting off the skin under his neck.

"You are no fucking conqueror; you are a plague, sent to destroy me,"

Despite his brother's anger, he still manages to piss him off even more.

"Give me Rhaenyra to me to take to wife, and we will return the House of The Dragon to its proper glory."

Furiously, he grabs a handful of his collar, for he got offended that he didn't fully embody a Targaryen, but his brother did.

But he is only a man, and he is going to protect Rhaenyra at all costs.

"It is not my daughter you lust for is it? It's my throne, you've only ever dreamed of claiming it ever since."

He releases him shortly after, making his frail body land on the concrete floor, earning a painful grunt from him.

"Whore your fucking way out of here, it matters not to me, and if you lay a hand on her again, I will kill you myself."

With that, he left him in there, numb, and his neck spraining from the impact his brother had caused.

Daemon's heart hardened, regretting everything he had done. 

He just drove them apart even more, their house crumbling into pieces as he realizes that he never wanted the Iron Throne all along.

He thought he knew what he longed for, he thought he knew exactly what he wanted.

The Rogue Prince closes his eyes shut, realizing that it was her all this time. 

She was the one he longed for, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the one he loved ever since she came out of this world.

Yet, ambition has driven him into corrupting her in the most horrible way possible, just so Viserys would give her to him. 

As guilt begins to consume him again, he collapses before the Iron Throne itself, feeling its power loom over him as he crumbles underneath the weight of its desires.

For he has flown too close to the sun.

Shout-out to: @nyctophilic0vitnir , @grandlovescheme and @firefly-graphics

Thank you @nyctophilic0vitnir   (go to her page pls, there's a lot of fics waiting for you to read them), for the support and encouragement,for checking and correcting the errors of this piece, and for your time and effort. I appreciate you!❤

Thank you @grandlovescheme (go to her page or her A03, type in her name ⬆️) for the support and encouragement, I appreciate you bestie!💗

And credits to you @firefly-graphics , the dividers are pretty cool!! Pls Follow ⬆️❤

Tags: @grandlovescheme @nyctophilic0vitnir @janelei @eschercaine @valkyrriee @taketotheskies @obsidian-hearts @daemyrachaos @rhaenyratumbles @lady-phasma @multifandersaysgonighthawks @flamehairedsiren @theobjectofyourire @gipsydanger17 @deseretsolitaire @profoundlydecadentmentality-blog @nyrasblog @missyviolet123 @foreverinmyguiltypleasures @ruby-dragon @vsenyatargaryen @foreverinthepagesofhistory @whateveryeah @mukduk-not-murder @queenoficeandfire @eyelinerandcigarettes

[missingn000]

hi yes this is incredibly late b/c work is shit tm but better late than never amirite

anyway, something about this chapter that leapt out at me immediately was Maki’s “uh, we are kids.” because i’m pretty sure something similar was said a couple chapters back (i can’t remember the exact instance though) and it seems to be a recurring theme in tpg: people being put into roles they don’t quite fill, not through any fault of their own, but simply because they cannot. gojo’s deification by jujutsu society is one such example, but it wasn’t something he had a say in, while nobara by comparison appears to have voluntarily taken on the task of acting(!) like an adult. she does, thankfully, end up joining maki & gang on the playground, but her conversation with higuruma undoes some of that progress:

“You treat me like a kid!”

“You are a kid!”

“And that’s enough reason to shut me out?!”

oh, higuruma… your intentions are kind, but your lack of tact is almost cruel. i think nobara’s response, coupled with the next line (“…brought a cannon and she’s not afraid to swim”) are very telling of her true feelings: even though she hates the fact that higuruma’s a murderer excluding the fact that his boss is worse, she is aware that he’s her parental figure now, and seeks (as all children do, especially those who were denied of it) emotional validation from him. higuruma really tried to pull the “being a child is not a sin” card but nobara didn’t hear the ‘not’ part lol. i find it depressingly ironic that his attempt at shielding her from the ugly truth of humanity & the entire mess with the sheriff end up widening the rift between them—it’s not… a terrible idea, in theory, but their circumstances are unique: nobara’s trying to understand & rationalise why the person she’s stuck with as a father did what he did, but she can’t do that if she’s missing some of the puzzle pieces. more accurately, higuruma won’t give them to her because the picture they complete is bleak, but she doesn’t know that!!!!

“I don’t know, Nobara. You deserve better than this.”

“You’re right, I do! But you won’t even try!”

… yeah sure kugisaki “you’re not my dad” nobara. and then, as if on cue, her phone rings with a call from her actual dad. the way she has to fight the urge to answer the call is nothing short of heartbreaking. she has to quash her own hopes, before her dad does it for her.

AAANDD THEN THEY HUGGED. THANK YOU FOR THIS. the part where higuruma wonders whether he’s about to be socked in the face reminded me of toji and maki’s hug in ch4 (yes i remembered), cus toji thought the exact same question. is this intentional please say yes. nevermind your answer is irrelevant i’m gonna start drawing parallels anyway /lh. toji & higuruma both start out extremely rough around the edges and knowing fuck all about parenting; maki & nobara both grew up with parents that didn’t love them. at least maki & toji had something to bond over (beating the shit out of other people. uh, curses. i mean curses.) nobara and higuruma on the other hand…….. lol

Also I didn’t miss the way Nobara was saved from a curse!!!! again!!!!! but the group shrugs it off, you know, as kids who literally just exorcised a curse by themselves do, and nobara’s too preoccupied with her crush on maki to feel all that offended. okay all jokes aside i think it really helps that they’re her age + she’s already interacted with them prior to this; she’s in a much better mental state than when higuruma first found her. i think it’s really cool that nobara has even more people fighting for her, which is exactly what she wants; she just hasn’t realised it, and i hope she does someday. (on an unrelated note: gotta love how maki takes centre stage and cleaves the curse in half though… her using yuuji’s sword as a platform to power herself thru the air is just 👌)

Does Nobara have anyone like that?

Yes. Yes, she does. Chi you’re drawing so many parallels here and I’m gonna throttle you. please don’t pit higuruma against a special grade…unless it’s toji, that’d be funny. who lets their kid bring a sword to school anyway?? tbf, it’s Phantom Guardian; i adore the idea that yuki’s cursed energy is with her, at all times…

btw yuuji is my fave if the pfp wasn’t obvious enough, and i cherish every crumb of his characterisation i get. i love the way he’s able to de-escalate any social situation because of how emotionally perceptive he is. kinda want to put him in a room with yuuta and maki and see what happens lmfao 💀💀

okay that concludes my horrendously long ramble. thank you for making it this far if u did. cheers

HIII KAY OH MY GOD??? THIS ANALYSIS IS SOOOO i put it into a word counter out of curiosity and the website said the reading level was college graduate so. 100000/10 analytical skills the curtains were indeed not just blue

response below cut this got long as hell

you're totally right that "uh, we are kids" was said in an earlier chapter! maki says it to megumi when toji gives the kiddos the stuffed animals he got for them at the zoo, and maki suggests they play with them:

--

Megumi turns up his nose. “Playing with stuffed animals is for kids.”

Come on. Maki slants an eyebrow. “Uh, we are kids.”

--

megumi is another child who had to grow up way too fast before gojo took him in, and now has to make up for lost time that he doesn't know quite yet how to reclaim. it's so cool you noticed this parallel between them, because it's gonna be super important in the upcoming chapter!!

it's so true that all of the tpg kids (and initial teenagers that are now in their low twenties) had some aspect of childhood taken away from them. isolated from the villagers, nobara tried to shed her own childlike qualities because she thought she had no choice but to take care of herself, especially because of the yet-to-be-revealed circumstances of her parents' disappearance.

and god....yeah, higuruma really has no idea how to handle that. i've said it before and i'll say it again: it's so, so important to me that he's genuinely terrible at this. he's the pinnacle of right idea, wrong execution: he wants to fix the ills of society but does it in the worst possible way, and he wants to shield nobara from how dark and terrible the world is by telling her she's just incapable of understanding it altogether. he doesn't want her to know all the pointless cruelty in the world. he doesn't want her to know he killed the sheriff to free her from the countryside. higuruma shutting her out is his way of protecting her, but the way he carries out his protection almost does more harm than good. almost.

PLEASE THEIR HUG....you're not delusional to draw that parallel between nobara & higuruma and maki & toji!! nobara and maki are the two tpg kids that have the most on-screen clashes with their parents, yet despite their initial doubts towards their parental figures, they still crave that emotional validation. after a lifetime of being shunned, finally, someone cares about them -- only nobara is half-convinced higuruma doesn't. i think some part of her does know he cares, but it's a part she refuses to acknowledge because she doesn't want to be let down by her father. not again.

nobara's confrontation with the curse was so!!!!! i really wanted to follow up with yuuta telling maki that nobara cares more about actions than words, so maki demonstrates her sorcery abilities rather than just saying it. maki's words post-fight, however, do end up having an impact on nobara: she's able to correct any misconceptions before nobara even has the chance to draw them. this will also be important as nobara's character develops!!

maki carrying the phantom guardian with her stems a lot from toji's desire for her to be able to protect herself, even in his absence. especially after the kids meet mahito in shibuya back in ch12, both nanami and toji don't want their kiddos to be unarmed, hence why yuuji also has playful cloud stuffed into his backpack.

YUUJI MY CHILD. MY SON. his emotional intelligence + crumbs that he blames himself for his family's doom even though it hasn't even happened yet. the first yuuji angst moment of many, many, MANY more

as for higuruma vs some special grade where he'd have to hurt himself in order to protect nobara...huh. yeah. sure would be interesting if that happened someday

alright, i'll conclude my horrendously long reply here. also sorry for the sukuna rant in DMs last night i think i was on something else

[cloudslou]

my policeman thoughts!! under cut bc idk how long it will be. not that long though i think.

general thoughts:

-my fav characters were patrick and julia, though obvi marion remains my fav just looking at it from the movie-standpoint

-it took me some time t get out my own head analyzing the main trio and asking myself if i thought they were doing well, etc but after abt 30 minutes i was able to ease into the story. kinda same as dwd but i think dwd took less time (possibly cus i was also in a dark theater w no ability to pause and consider anything)

-the pacing felt off to me i know i complained abt the movie length but i wish things had been given more time. i get what they were doing w marion and patrick’s perspectives but i dont think it was as effective and didnt translate from the book for me

-book was better, of course

-movie did not have enough julia!!! far from it. i want endless julia

-marion was done so dirty tbh the hints at her not being straight were almost completely gone (julia was obvious, but i feel like in the book marion is also clearly read as not straight)

-i love marion and patrick being parallels to each other. not just in regards to tom, but how they’re more often allies than not. how julia points out their similar interests. in my head marion looks at patrick, sees these parallels, and wonders what else they have in common.

-even having been done dirty marion is The Most Interesting character in the movie. so many scenes it was clear there was an internal struggle going on, which im reading as her quest for heterosexuality, fighting to maintain her marriage, questioning of herself, her relationship to julia and patrick, etc. adored her.

-i did not cry. soz to everyone who did but twas not that emotion-evoking to me.

harry acting:

-fairly good i think!! awkward at parts, but for the most part it didnt distract me. again like dwd i found him best in very emotive scenes like anger, sadness, internal conflict, etc and least effective in routine or sincere scenes (like when he’s just having a conversation, or standing around, etc)

-i know ppl had words abt his accent but tbh i dont have the kind of ear for accents or to say if harry was doing well or not, or if he was talking more in his natural accent or an altered one so. it wasnt an issue for me. sometimes i thought he sounded weird but i actually think im just not used to him enunciating so much.

how i would make it shorter bc why in the hell was it 2 hours:

-sorry to the older versions of tom/marion/patrick, but Were It My Movie, i would have just eliminated the whole past vs present, retrospective aspect. i dont feel like its as effective in movie format, whereas the whole concept of letters telling their stories in the book works for me. i dont think the later scenes added much 2 the movie and if anything opened up more confusion for me.

-for example, when older tom sees nigel and (presumably) his boyfriend in the shop, is that meant to be like....his first time seeing a gay couple existing openly? after like 40 years from the younger story line? what?>??

-in the last 20 minutes where older marion is like. Explaining everything? bad ending. could have done w/o that. marion leaving to her sister’s>?? bad, try again. when its younger tom standing w older patrick so its like. a mirage idk?? Bad. hated that pls take it back.

-just cut the last 15 minutes. honestly.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine Azula having a crush on you and not noticing it until Ty lee and Mai point it out to her.

Azula’s POV

“There she is, little miss i’m special because i’m not from the capital” Azula quipped as you entered the training yard and Ty lee looked up fleetingly but Mai didn’t even bother, she knew exactly who Azula was talking about. Azula was always referring to you. “She thinks she’s so special in those fire nation colonial clothes, so unique and different to the typical fire nation clothing, you can just tell she thinks she looks good in them” Azula snapped not taking her eyes off you. “I think she does look good in them” Ty lee piped up and Azula rolled her eyes “you would”. The teacher called the class to start warming up and everyone began jogging around the yard. Ty lee ran beside Azula (Mai opted out of running by feigning an untied shoelace) and it wasn’t long before Azula started commenting on what you were doing again. “Look at y/n trying so hard to run at the front...come on we have to speed up and beat her”. Ty lee frowned “it’s only a warm-up Azula”. “A warm-up we’re losing” Azula retorted “fine if you’re too lazy i’ll catch her on my own” and sped to the front of the line. Mai, having been caught tying her shoelace for 5 minutes appeared beside Ty lee suddenly “i see Azula’s preoccupied again”. Ty lee nodded “she wanted to beat y/n”. “I don’t know why she’s so jealous of her” Mai frowned “y/n’s a good bender but everyone knows Azula’s the number one bender in the academy and y/n doesn’t even seem to want to challenge her”. “I know” Ty lee nodded “I think Azula’s just paranoid, she seems to always be thinking about y/n, always wondering where she is or what she’s doing”. Mai frowned ”she does?”. Ty lee nodded “yeah she was asking me yesterday if I knew where y/n went after training and then earlier today in class she was talking about what she imagines y/n does in her spare time, she had her pegged as a painter cus she has dainty hands”. Mai’s frown grew “Azula said all that?”. Ty lee nodded “yep, she knows a lot about y/n”.  Mai paused “Azula is pretty receptive to y/n but maybe it’s not necessarily in a jealous angry way”. Ty lee frowned and Mai stopped running “what if our friend Azula is actually interested in y/n?”. Ty lee raised an eyebrow “Mai she hates y/n have you not listened to a word she’s said?” “She says she hates her but think about it! She’s always staring at her, commenting on how good she is or how good her clothes look, she’s curious about what she does and what she likes...we know Azula isn’t too good with emotions, what if she told herself what she feels is intense dislike when it’s the opposite?”. Ty lee frowned “you do make a good point, love and hate are pretty similar emotions and for someone who’s not good at recognising her own feelings....”. “...she could’ve misinterpreted them as hate when in reality Azula actually...” Mai started when a voice cut her off. “Azula what?”. Azula appeared out of breath “did you two really stand here talking the whole time? I creamed y/n in the race! It was hilarious, we were neck and neck and then at the last turn i overtook her! Her surprised envious expression was delicious! I always want her looking at me like that”. Ty lee and Mai exchanged a look and Azula frowned “what?.

1 week later

“What do you think y/n’s going to wear?” Azula asked and Ty lee shot Mai a look. Mai and Ty lee had agreed after a week of observing Azula that she did indeed like you and they should help their misguided friend recognise that. They kept putting it off but had agreed earlier in the day the next time Azula mentioned you unprompted they’d say something and she just did. There was a ball tomorrow night and Azula had numerous gowns in her room and they were all looking through them. But Azula was the only one wondering what you’d wear while looking for outfits. Ty Lee wandered closer to Mai “say something” she hissed and Mai frowned “why do I have to do it?”. “Because I came up with the idea of saying something so you have to be the one to do it”. “What are you two whispering about?” Azula called and both girls tensed “nothing”. Azula narrowed her eyes at them but carried on looking at dresses. Ty lee sighed knowing Mai could be more stubborn than her and sidled closer to Azula. “So Azula...what made you think of y/n just now?”. Azula shrugged “she loves fancy stuff like this judging from her outfit choices, did you know she never wears her hair the same way two days in a row”. “No i didn’t...i’m surprised you did” Ty lee said and held her breath. Azula paused “what does that mean?”. “Just you seem to pay a lot of attention to her, more than anyone else”. “Well yes, you have to keep an eye on potential problems to ensure they stay potential and not actual problems”. Ty lee nodded “uh-huh....and looking at what y/n wears covers that?”. Azula turned around “what are you trying to say Ty lee? Subtlety isn’t your finest quality so just spit it out”. “Well i just meant...have you considered that...maybe you...”. “You like y/n” Mai said loudly and everyone froze. “I what?” Azula asked turning to Mai. Mai didn’t look away and stared at Azula directly in the eye “I said you like y/n. That’s why you’re obsessed over every little thing she does and thinks about her so much! That’s why you say mean things about her and put her down, you’re like the little boy in the schoolyard pulling the girl’s pigtails because he likes her, you like y/n but you don’t know how to feel about that so you lash out at her but that doesn’t change the fact you like her”. Silence settled and Ty lee flinched at how tense the atmosphere was. Azula was glaring at Mai fiercely but Mai wouldn’t look away or back down. Eventually Azula scoffed and turned away “as always your judgement is flawed Mai” and carried on looking at dresses. Ty lee looked at Mai in surprise and they both frowned lost at what to do next. “If I did like her I wouldn’t be afraid to show it either” Azula commented bitterly “the very idea is ridiculous”.

The next day

Azula waited at the top of the stairs outside the party tugging at the dress she’d chosen. It wasn’t right, she didn’t like it and she felt agitated in it. Truth be told though everything had agitated her since the conversation with her friends yesterday. How dare Mai and Ty lee act like she didn’t know her own feelings, sure she wasn’t the most in touch with her emotional side but she’d know if she liked you! Wouldn’t she?

The lights changed and Azula knew that was the cue for the royal family’s entrance into the ball. She exited from her door and down the staircase a fake smile on her face until she came to stand beside Ozai, Zuko on his other side. A united strong family. Ozai made some speech and Azula was listening, until she caught Ty lee whispering to you in the crowd. Azula was furious, Ty lee knew how she felt about you, how much she hated you! Why would she be befriending you at her father’s party! Azula glared but it was too dark for Ty lee to notice or she ignored it and carried on whispering in your ear making you smile. Azula was itching to get away so she could rip Ty lee away from you the second she could.

However Ty lee seemed to sense that. When Azula was free to mingle Ty lee had vanished from your side but you were still there. Right in her eye line, it was almost impossible for her not to look at you. Azula took in what you were wearing and of course, as she predicted, you looked amazing. You dress just the right deep shade of red, just modest enough to be fitting for a royal party but also flattering enough one couldn’t help staring. Your hair again looked as perfect as it always did and Azula considered what Mai and Ty lee had said as she watched you. Azula tore her eyes away from you a light blush on her cheeks and dismissed the thoughts. She glanced around the room for something to distract her but found her eyes drawn to you yet again. You weren’t with anyone either and seemed to be watching the party contently. Azula wondered who you’d come to this with as you surely had a date and she was soon lost in trying to figure out who it could be. Azula watched you deep in thought before catching herself and cursed herself for staring at you again. “Idiot” Azula cried seizing a glass off a nearby tray, making the waiter flinch and almost drop the rest of his drinks. “Azula?” someone asked and Azula realised Mai had finally found her. “What’s wrong?” Mai asked catching on to Azula’s obvious anger and Azula glared. “Like you don’t know! You and Ty lee planted the idea in my head and it’s growing like a weed!”. Mai frowned “about y/n?”. “Well who else!” Azula snapped “you’ve made me doubt myself, now I can’t stop looking at her and noticing things about her!”. “Like what?”. “Well how nice and shiny her hair is, how radiant and clear her skin is, how toned her exposed arms are in that dress, how bright and soft her lips look! You’ve rotted my brain and I can’t stop it!”. “Azula calm down” Mai said sternly “there’s nothing wrong with you or your brain!”. “Then why can’t i stop thinking about y/n” Azula cried and Mai rolled her eye “because you like her idiot!”. Azula was so lost in thought she didn’t even react to Mai calling her an idiot. “I do....?” she frowned “this is not good, crushes are for weak people like you and Zuko”. “Ouch, but I insulted you so I’ll take that”. “You what?” Azula asked narrowing her eyes and Mai moved on quickly “nothing! So you admit you like y/n? That’s great”. “Why is it great?”. “Because now we can do something about it”. “Ow good there’s a cure?” Azula asked and Mai nodded “yes, you go ask her out”. Azula’s eyes almost popped out of her head “WHAT! I can’t do that!”. Mai rolled her eyes “yes you can, don’t be such a coward”. Azula glared “I am not a coward Mai”. “Then prove it! Y/n’s over there, go ask her out now”. Azula squared up to Mai “fine i will!”. “Great” Mai cried and Azula barged past her before heading off to find you. It was only on her way to you Azula realised what she’d sworn to do and immediately regretted it. To make things worse Ty lee had appeared by your side again and spotted Azula. “Azula” Ty lee called happily and you turned and fixed your eyes on her. Azula felt chilled, trapped in your gaze. She wanted to run and hide but how could she when Ty lee had made it so obvious? Azula cursed Ty lee and was ready for a quick greeting and escape when Azula hesitated. She’d fought armies and men twice her age and yet this was terrifying her? No! She was Azula, fire bending master and the smartest person in the whole academy...maybe the whole fire nation! She was not going to let this intimidate her. Azula reached you and looked you both confidently in the eye “Ty lee, y/n” she said matter of factly. You looked from Ty lee to her and nodded “Hi Azula”. “Hello” Azula replied and then searched for something else to say, silence settled and Ty lee jumped in “it’s a great party isn’t it Azula?”. “I suppose” she nodded. “I’m enjoying it” you agreed “but I bet you’ve been to so many by now they’re all terribly repetitive” you smiled and Azula was shocked at your receptiveness. “That is correct” she nodded “honestly I think all social events are a waste of time...” she started when she noticed Ty lee signalling her to stop talking but you didn’t seem put off by her anti-social comment. You laughed and smiled “i have to partially agree with you on that one, do you know how much firebending practice I could’ve gotten in during the time this party has taken?”. Azula smiled approvingly, she was growing fonder of you by the second. “Do you practice often y/n?” Ty lee asked and you nodded “i try to get some time in every day but it’s hard, the academy gym is always so crowded”. “You should use the private one” Azula commented and you and Ty lee froze. “I can’t afford that” you said looking down and Azula tilted her head confused, money was so irrelevant to her she forgot it was an issue for others. She supposed the fees may be too much for some people to pay and fixed her eyes on your expression. “Well if you enter with me nobody will dare make you pay” Azula replied and you looked up at her confused. “If i entered with you?”. Azula nodded “I could take you some time if you wanted...i train every day too”. Your eyes widened and their brilliant brown blinded Azula for a few seconds so she almost didn’t catch your reply. “When am i free?” she asked her cheeks warming “well how about tomorrow?”. “It’s a date” you smirked before something caught your eye “sorry my mother’s waving me over, I have to go but this was really fun, I don’t know why we haven’t spoken before” you said generally but directed it to Azula. Azula’s blush grew and she nodded “yes I do not know why either, we will have to fix that”. You grinned and looked at Azula in a way that made her heartbeat fast. “I look forward to it” you replied and Azula blushed looking down. “Well goodnight” you smiled and walked away. Azula watched you walk away and only just remembered to breathe “what did i....did that really happen?”. Ty lee grinned “yes it did! You officially have a date with y/n and you flirted too”. “I did?”. “Admittedly it was anti-social and power plays but yes you flirted Azula! Well done!”. Azula smiled softly ”I have a date with y/n!”. Now all she had to do was not mess it up...  

____

I could so imagine Azula being a gym girl and having gym dates, like she’s a buff girl with a lack of free time so she has to combine the two. Plus what would impress a date more than Azula out benching every man in that gym???

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Texts from the Lost Tomb part 6.1

🎶 Back on the bullshit I never got off🎶

Is this another unnecessary story arc?? With three sections??

Yes.

Wushanju Crew Chat

Wang Meng: You know, I’m someone who appreciates consistency in my day. My life is pleasant, very few issues indeed if you ignore the big ones. And yet. Yet here we are. With unresolved messes at the end of a day.

Wang Pangzi: SOMETHIN YOU NEED TO SAY MARY POPPINS

Wang Meng: We need to talk about Huo Daofu and the glittery bead curtain.

Wang Pangzi: MY FAVE TEEN WIZARD SERIES

Wu Xie: did you turn on that suggested word thingy lol

What glittery bead curtain

Wang Meng: I closed the shop at 6:00pm this evening on the dot. I locked all of the doors in and out of the shop very carefully, especially in light of recent events. The hall leading to the back office was empty. I filed the day’s paperwork, updated and sent emails, and then spent an extra hour organizing receipts and dusting. When I came back out, there were glittery iridescent bead curtains over the front entrance to the shop.

What could this mean?

Wu Xie: uh that you need to spend less time at work?

Wang Pangzi: LOOKS LIKE WE GOT ONE FOR THE DETECTIVES. THE MYSTERY OF THE BEDAZZLED THRESHOLD COMMENCES

Wu Xie: I think we can be relatively secure in thinking a glittery bead curtain isn’t a hostile threat

Wang Pangzi: SAYS YOU

I REMEMBER YE OLDE EXPLORATION TIMES HOW FAST THINGS GOT FURIOUS

BEANBAG CHAIRS SET AFLAME AND LEFT ON DOORSTEPS AS A WARNING

GLITTERBOMBS FOR DAYS

PANIC AT THE DISCO

Wang Meng: Ugh, forget it. I should have just taken them down, regardless of who they belong to.

Zhang Qiling: They are not mine.

Wang Pangzi: A BOLD STATEMENT COMING FROM OUR PRIME SUSPECT

SOMEONE QUICK GO DRAW CHALK AROUND THE DOORWAY TO MARK THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

Wang Meng: Do we know anyone who *would* sneak in and put those up? For whatever reason, legal or not? Even as a joke?

Wang Pangzi: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING WHETHER WE KNOW ANYONE WHO IS CHAOTIC, AN OUTLAW, A PRANKSTER AND/OR SNEAKS INTO PLACES

BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN OUR SUSPECT LIST IS LITERALLY EVERYONE WE KNOW EXCEPT FOR YOU.

Wu Xie: okay let’s think about this; for starters, I didn’t break into my own shop

Wang Meng: You would be in danger of doing some work in the process, that’s true.

Wang Pangzi: LOL

Wu Xie: ANYWAY let’s keep going. For example, Xiao Ge would only break in somewhere for a good reason. Xiao Ge, did you do this?

Zhang Qiling: No.

Wu Xie: okay who’s next

Wang Pangzi: YOU REALLY MISSED YOUR CALLING IN INTERROGATION TIANZHEN

REALLY PUT THE SCREWS TO HIM

IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE;)

Zhang Qiling: How can we be certain *you* didn’t do it?

Wang Meng: Admittedly that was my guess, too.

Wang Pangzi: WOW I SEE HOW IT IS

BLAME PANGZI AS USUAL

ANYWAY HOW DOES HUO DAOFU FIT INTO THIS

Wu Xie: Oh yeah him! Oops I got distracted

Wang Pangzi: UR ENTIRE HISTORY IN A NUTSHELL

Wu Xie: Ugh fuck off

Wang Meng what abt Huo Daofu??

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wu Xie: oh sorry xiaoge I didn’t realize you wouldn’t have spent much time around him last year

He and I go way back

Zhang Qiling: Way back where?

Babysitters Club Chat

Wang Pangzi: I CANNOT BELIEVE HE IS BUYING YOUR INNOCENT ACT

IF YOU EVER TURN TO EVIL WE ARE FUCKED

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wang Pangzi: YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO HUO DAOFU IS

YOU WERE EXTREMELY POLITE AND BORDERLINE FRIENDLY TOWARDS HIM

Zhang Qiling: I wanted him to feel welcome. I wanted to be sure he understands he has a place here. A specific place.

Wang Pangzi: FOR A SILENT GUY YOU ARE A MASTER AT SUBTLE POWER PLAYS IM ALL TINGLY

LMAO THE IDEA OF WU XIE LEAVING YOU FOR HUO DAOFU IS HILARIOUS AND ALSO NOPE

Zhang Qiling: Rationally, I understand that.

Main Chat

Wang Meng: Huo Daofu is coming for the weekend—didn’t Wu Xie tell you? Wu Xie asked me to check in a week ahead so we could start getting ready for his arrival

Wu Xie: oh yeah I did do that

Wang Meng: Fortunately I know you and so I already went ahead and took care of everything.

Re: the trip

He made a deal with Wu Xie’s doctor that he would do periodic checkups on him here at Wushanju

Bc Wu Xie hates being in the hospital

And frankly the hospital hates him too

Wang Pangzi: FAMILIARITY BREEDS CONTEMPT LOL

I FORGOT HUO DAOFU WAS DOING THAT

A VERY CHIVALROUS GESTURE

WOULDNT YOU SAY

XIOAGE

Zhang Qiling: Is it safe for him to be here with a criminal loose on the premises?

Wu Xie: Right, back to the curtain! Let’s focus on the curtain, hmm?

Wang Pangzi: I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS WEEKEND.

ALSO WE CAN RULE OUT XIAO BAI FOR THE CURTAIN SHE JUST SENT A SELFIE FROM NORWAY COVERED IN GREEN SLIME WITH ZERO CONTEXT, UR PROTEGE INDEED

Wu Xie: okay but who else would do something so oddly charming yet illegal and—wait.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: hey, Glasses hasn’t been in touch lately right?

Li Cu: uh nope

Unless u count the outdated memes

Why, is money or Xie Yuchen missing

Or is this curtain related, I saw Wang Meng’s tweet

Wu Xie: haha no nothing to worry about really

(I mean maybe? but who knows)

Wang Meng is probably just getting a little paranoid in his old age

Li Cu: better than getting reckless and stupid as hell in ur old age

Wu Xie: …hey:(

Unknown Number: Li Cu, we discussed this.

Wu Xie: ????????

Li Cu: *sigh* fine, reckless and stupid as heck

Unknown Number: …close enough.

Wu Xie: EXCUSE who is that

Madame, Sir, Non-Binary Tree Spirit, etc—whomst the fuck

Are you

Li Cu is underage FYI

So Im staying on this chat

Li Cu: okay first of all, it’s not like that

Second of all I’m literally not underage I s2g

u threw the embarrassing surprise bday party, okay so u should remember

And C, that’s my counselor and I invited her. She wanted to meet u and I knew u wouldn’t agree to a visit so I added her to our chat

we have been discussing u

Wu Xie: Oh wow!!!!!!!

What a surprise:)

hi so nice to meet you:)

Main Chat:

Wu Xie: RED FUCKING ALERT

FUCK THE CURTAIN FUCK THE VISIT

IVE BEEN TRICKED INTO FAMILY THERAPY BY A SMUG TEENAGER WHO TEXTS UNKNOWN NUMBERS

Wang Meng: I assume that means something to someone here?

Not my problem? Good.

Wang Pangzi: AHAHAHA GOD I LOVE LI CU

HES LIKE ADORABLE KARMA FOR ALL THE SHIT YOUVE PUT ME THROUGH

IM RAISING HIS ALLOWANCE

Wu Xie: wait i give him an allowance

has he been collecting on two allowances??

Zhang Qiling: Three. I knew about both of yours.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: so uh may I ask your name?

Unknown Number: you can call me Ms. Lee.

Now, if you’re comfortable talking in this format, why don’t you tell me how things have been going?

Wu Xie: oh everything is normal and fine and safe as usual, why do you ask:)

Li Cu: I heard about ur necklace thing. nice of you to NOT mention it.

another dangerous adventure. again. prick.

Ur lucky your cool boyfriend cares about you so much or you’d have already died like ten years ago

Wu Xie: lol try twenty years ago

Li Cu: That isn’t funny.

Unknown Number: …What?

Wu Xie: shit ur right, okay that was a bit glib, my apologies.

…I use humor as a coping mechanism?

Unknown Number: and Li Cu, how do you feel about that?

Li Cu: he doesn’t even know what that phrase means

He doesn’t cope, like ever

In fact

It’s kind of why we met

Which is a funny story in retrospect tbh

Wu Xie: haha what are you talking about sweetie hahaha need I remind you of certain anecdotes that could idk send me to jail maybe lmao

Unknown Number: …You know, perhaps an in-person meeting might be more effective?

Wu Xie: haha such a nice idea but why

Main Chat

Wu Xie: If I go to jail, I’ll have to create alliances for protection, right, that’s how it works on tv

Who do we know who spends time in jail

Other than Hei Yangjing, he’s only ever there for like 12 hours and i suspect he just gets himself arrested bc he enjoys the breaking out process

Also how’s the curtain case coming along

Zhang Qiling: Has someone threatened you?

Wu Xie: well not yet but soon I’m sure

Wang Pangzi: WHERE WAS THIS PARANOIA WHEN WE GOT TAKEN TO THE TEA HOUSE HUH

Snake Eyes Minus Your Fucking Therapist Chat

Li Cu: okay how tf did u pull off spy and undercover shit

u are sus as hell

Wu Xie: damn son is it pick on Wu Xie night

I missed the flyers or I would’ve invited my uncles

Also re: the curtain it’s been mostly solved

Li Cu: I’m not your son, idiot.

Wu Xie: …oh. Sorry, sorry, you’re right, bad choice of words, haha

Forget i said anything

Delete this chat even

Li Cu: shit I meant

Legally, biologically, I meant—

shit

…I turn into an asshole as a coping mechanism?

Wu Xie: oh that’s all okay! I have to go do something else now let me know if you need anything okay kid thanks!

Li Cu: goddamn it calm down who’s the kid here

lemme organize my thoughts so I can articulate my emotions fuckin healthily or w/e

Ugh maybe for like one afternoon we could go to Ms. Lee together? She knows how to word stuff

Wu Xie: uh…okay.

Li Cu: Anyway you don’t need to worry abt jail

As if you would survive prison for one day you’d piss off half the place in like an hour or less

I gave Ms. Lee the heavily edited version of the desert highway to hell roadtrip and i discussed it more in terms of like “nightmarish but still wouldn’t take any of it back”

Well maybe the sand

that shit was everywhere

Wu Xie: oh kiddo. It’s fine, really…You don’t have to explain yourself to me.

Li Cu: no, no it’s just

I do technically have a dad

who is an asshole. Being a son doesn’t really mean shit to me bc it sucked.

So you need to stop backing down just cuz ur guilty abt stuff. I’m really really glad ur not my dad in a good way. Do u get what I mean there

Where’s the mafia widower I followed into hell, huh

Wu Xie: Ur a good kid, despite my influence. I’m really glad you have someone to talk to after everything I…after everything. Wow this talking through feelings thing is kind of weird but nice ur right

Jfc no wonder it took me and xiaoge so long to—you know what, we won’t get into that

Li Cu: ew tmi

Also re: this week’s recent necklace fuckery

I moved my stuff here, I live here now

So you can’t die anymore

Or else…Idk I don’t have a threat planned

anyways abt the curtain

Wu Xie: oh my god, kid…kid you have no idea

I am in tears.

Li Cu: see this is why I can’t be nice to you I can sense the hallmark channel from here

Ugh don’t be sad in ur room that’s dumb

Go hug Pangzi or something

Maybe delete this chat

Or the curtain thing

Focus on the curtain thing

Just stfu and go away

Wu Xie: <3 screenshotting this <3

Li Cu: I take back everything I said. This is why Xiao Ge sleeps on the roof. I hope the ghosts of the Wangs put up that curtain to strangle you somehow. Go die in a stupid way, it’ll suit you.

Wu Xie: lol don’t worry I’m not gonna embarrass you with it or anything

Main Chat

Wu Xie: omg guys look how cute my kid is *sending screenshot*

Wang Pangzi: I MEAN

HE IS WISHING YOU DEATH

BUT SURE

CUTE I GUESS

Wu Xie: no but read the whole thing:):):)

Zhang Qiling: It is indeed very hard to remain angry with you. And you are welcome to join me on the roof.

Wang Pangzi: UH NOPE

NOT WHENI HAD TO BLEACH THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN

DONT TRAUMATIZE THE EARLY BIRDS THEYRE ALREADY FREAKED OUT BY U YA HOODIE CRYPTID

Wu Xie: ok true but babe ur like a sexy cryptid

Wang Meng: so, are we just accepting that there is a glittery curtain of unknown origin, and Huo Daofu is going to have to see it while he’s waiting for you at Wushanju bc you’re going to family therapy?

Wu Xie: right

Wang Pangzi: SHOULDA TAKEN EARLY RETIREMENT HUH

Wang Meng: I’m going to go dust something.

Unnamed Chat:

Unknown number: so the curtain…

Unknown number 2: yep, not my best work but I kinda panicked last minute u know

Unknown number: what is in the water at Wushanju that makes everyone dumb and attractive

Unknown number 2: relax they’ll figure it out

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Prestige

Chapter one - Welcome to Weltingston Heights

Sanders side fanfiction

Idea by: @hestianerd1

Wordcount: 1094

Pairings: so far the main one is prinxiety :)

TW: cursing and some hostility, but let me know if I've missed any! :3

The summery of the whole story: Prestige. Such a simple construct. All you have to do is act the way you want people to perceive you, keep up the image, wear a big proud smile and never ever dare make a mistake. That’s why Weltingston Heights University is such a well known school. Everybody knows that anyone who got in must have some prestige tied to their name. Educational records, family history, or even literal fame. So why not treat students the same way? Because what’s a little more pressure on their young and strong bones?

But prestige and image are precious things. You slip up even the tiniest bit, step out of the line you drew for yourself and it’s all gone. So now that the pressure is on, and everyone already knows their place in this small circle of society, only one question remains. How far are they willing to go to keep the false image up?

(Or: Very over-dramatically with a noticeable amount of sarcastic undertone: "Oh my god! They were roommates!")

---------------------------------

Chapter one - Welcome to Weltingston heights

The halls were packed. So packed in fact, Virgil barely had space to move around. And that rarely was the case!

Usually, people just cleared a path for him - not wanting to catch a disease or something he presumed (rumors are so stupid). Mostly, people just feared him.

When you’re growly all the time, with a hoodie on, head low and headphones on, people tend to react that way. And the makeup and dark clothing probably didn’t help either.

Either way, they usually ran the moment they saw him.

But not today - no! This day out of all the days they could’ve chosen - they chose to not scatter. The filthy glory of move-in day.

Welcome to Waltingston Heights.

This day was already a nightmare. And yet another new room and roommate on top of it and Virgil was ready to throw himself over the ledge. He clutched his box to his chest and swallowed hard.

Just breath Virgil. You’re almost there. Count your steps. - he thought.

Room 223… 227… 234…

Room 236. Finally.

A quick (and very clumsy) fumble with the keys and Virgil was shutting the doors behind him. Hard and fast - falling against cold hard wood in the darkness.

Thank God for the hot weather outside - the staff had to close the curtains to protect the rooms at least a little from the boiling sun. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Two more trips to his car. He can do that. Obviously, he can.

…

But maybe he’ll unpack this box first. People might just thin out in that time.

And so, V took of his backpack, forced his legs to work and took a good look of the room.

Not too big, but bigger than what he had at home. One bathroom and a small kitchen of to the side. This pretty much supplied as a small apartment - just like the exact same looking once from previous years. It was suitable. Livable in.

Now, only if the roommate situation was the same.

It wasn’t the question of who, honestly, but rather why anyone at all? He did go to headmaster Berry with this, but that helped nothing. The man lacks empathy and that’s all he’ll ad.

Dropping the box on one of the beds (right side. Always the one under the window.) he started pulling out pieces of identical clothing and neatly folding them away into the drawers. Setting up a small table-lamp, an alarm clock. Dealing with the bed sheets.

Pushing the box aside, he fell onto his new bed. Home for the next two months max.

It didn’t matter who the roommate was, they always eventually requested him moved. Without fail. (Those days the old man decided to show some empathy - how convenient.) But they were in the right - he didn’t blame them. Didn’t like them as much, either.

He had to get up and go get those other boxes. He knew it. But he didn’t really want to leave the safety of the quiet room… And his idiotic ass also left his headphones in the car… Okay. Deep breath.

It was on his third trip back - the last one thankfully - when the students finally started thinning out. No more stupid elbowing through crowds, no more unwanted bumping or pushing. Not nearly enough space yet, but better.

Balancing the box in one hand, he reached out for the door handle. He was about to push the door open when it got yanked, pulling V with it.

Laud laughter and chatting filled the anxious boy’s ears. “Oh my, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

“Obviously.” he grunted elbowing his way into the room. Plopping his box down, he turned to actually face the guy he had to spend the two weeks with (didn’t give it longer).

And god, out of all the people in this school, it had to be this guy. He hated this situation. Eyelids lowered, mouth a thin line, Virgil growled. “You.”

“The one and only. Roman Velez.” the other bowed with a grin. A young girl behind him giggled at the sight and said something in Spanish, which made the actor grin even wider. “And you, dark and broody, must be my new roommate.”

“Not for long hopefully.” V grunted, turning back to his boxes and starting unpacking again.

Was it really too much to ask for some quiet and piece this year?

“I didn’t catch your name, emo.”

“That’s ‘cus I didn’t say it, dumbass.”

“Such pristine vocabulary. I just asked to be polite, anyways. I know you’re Virgil Reat. Everybody knows that.”

Virgil was just about to quip back when a completely shocked high-pitched voiced beat him to it. “That is him?!” the girl squawked.

Roman immediately fixed her with a glare. “Shut up, Cas. Go help dad.”

His sister was the best thing in the world, but she just could not keep her mouth shut. “Oh my god! Ro! You-“

“Now.”

“Wait till dad hears about this!” and she was gone, evil giggle fading with distance. Leaving the two boys in the not-so-small room.

Roman looked back at the short bundle of unhappiness and wondered what went wrong in the board-members heads to assign them as roommates. But he couldn’t say that out loud, now could he. So, he went with the next best thing - when in doubt, wear a smile and act friendly. “You don’t have much decoration.”

Virgil just razed an eyebrow. Then gestured at Romans’s side of the room. The man had literal toys everywhere. Glittery letters, a plush unicorns and bunch of stuff from plays he assumed. Like that sword hanging on the wall over there. Were they even allowed to bring weapons (no matter if fake) to school? “There wouldn’t be no place to put it with all the shit you brought.”

“Well, I’ll let you know, these things are not ‘shit’. They hold emotional value. And at least I’m not afraid to express myself.”

“And that’s exactly why most people find you annoying.” and with that (and a very cruel, obviously fake, polite smile), the box was tossed to the ground and V’s big black noise-canceling headphones were finally on his head. Blasting whatever his crappy phone would offer at that exact moment.

Roman was left staring at the rude little leprechaun laying on his bed. Ignoring him!

“Hey!” he called out. But V only turned the volume up and closed his eyes.

Roman scoffed in disbelief. “Welcome back to Weltingston, I guess.”

This is going to be a fun year.

---------------------------------

Welcome to a new series! I hope you'll enjoy it <3

(Also, I wrote Roman Spanish because I just love the concept, but I don't really speak or know much, and I really don't want to come of as offensive! That's the last thing I want... So if anybody out there is kindhearted enough to help me correct anything that might seem off or with some correct translations into Spanish in later chapters, I'd really appreciate the help! (I don't trust google translate with something like this XD) I really don't mean to make anybody uncomfortable, and if this helps me prevent it, than I'd be very grateful! Thank you <3)

[for-my-own-om-ent]

om boys with a foreign mc who switches to first language when feeling strong emotions

LUCIFER

• he had always been mean to Mammon ever since mc came here

• he'd been very stressed that day so he's scolding him since morning

• poor Mammon couldn't step foot out of his room without getting on the eldest's nerves

• mc had always been an advocate for leaving the white haired boy live peacefully, but Lucifer just went too far that day

• 'Lulu, dar mai lasa omul in plata Domnului! Toata ziua ii stai in cap ca o palarie!' ('Lulu, leave the guy alone for God's sake! You're on top of his head like a hat!')

• being demons, they both understood since it wasn't that hard to comprehend a language they've been alive to see develop

• Mammon nearly cried from laughter which only made Lucifer more annoyed

• the eldest will definitely mock MC on their dialect and accent

• seems unbothered but boiling inside

MAMMON

• MC had been helping him with his history essay while he'd do their maths homework

• 'thanks for helping, Mammon' they said before writing the finishing sentence

• 'money would've been a better thanks but yer welcome, MC'

• he'd finished the homework long before MC but knew better than to annoy the person who'd help him pass

• but now that they finished he might as well start being annoying

• 'next time ya might as well go bother someone else with your idiocy. i'm a busy guy ya know'

• 'of.. eu ce sa fac daca mi esti drag?' ('oh~ but what could i possibly do if i hold you so dear?')

• MC knew he'd get flustered and after calling them an idiot what could've been better than mocking him

LEVIATHAN

• they were playing a game with some of Levi's online friends

• MC, already annoyed with the fact that they weren't alone with Levi, was also pretty pissed at the skills of some of them

• Levi could sense MC s envy, him being the literal Avatar of Envy, but not understanding where it came from didn't act on it

• the more they played the more tense and annoyed MC grew and Levi didn't mind it

• he kind of fed from their jealousy

• but at one point one of the people playing just made the most idiotic move so MC just couldn't contain it

• 'Frate, ce are in capu ala? Tarata?' ('what do they have in that head of theirs? oats?')

• Levi, for the first time in forever, got distracted from the game

• he was endlessly embarrassed that MC did that but the choice of their words was way too much for him to handle

• he started laughing while his face was lobster red from the embarrassment

SATAN

• he was very aware of MC's Romanian heritage given the fact that they've exchanged books in the language

• even so he's never heard them speak it

• he thought it was because MC was embarrassed of their dialect or accent

• he never insisted since he didn't want to make them uncomfortable

• one day before a test at RAD everybody was stressed beyond belief and MC was no exception

• as Satan was walking towards them to comfort them he heard them talking to themselves

• 'daca ai putut sa suporti presiunea cand i-ai explicat lui Lulu cu ce i -ati patat canapeaua, asta-i nimic' ('if you could stand the embarrassment when you had to explain to Lulu what was it you stained his couch with, this will be nothing')

• Satan was pretty amused

• loved their accent and wanted to hear more and louder

• he approached them in Romanian in hopes that they won't notice his intentions

• 'cu ce ati patat-o?' ('what did you stain it with?')

• 'of nu pot sa traiesc rusinea din nou' ('i can't re-live the shame') they sighted

• 'intreaba-l pe Belphie' ('go ask Belphie')

ASMODEUS

• MC had been calling Asmo by his nickname since forever

• no one ever questioned their ability to pronounce it fully and Asmo loved the way his nickname sounded when it rolled out of MC's mouth so they never had to

• one day MC called Asmo from the kitchen to ask about one of his refrigerated skincare thingys

• 'honey, how come you call me just like the Romans used to?'

• he was most amused by that

• MC was flustered at his remark

• they hated how 'Asmodeus' sounded in English accent and refused to say it like that but it would've been no use to discuss it with him

• 'well the Romans are my ancestors'

• 'still, i can't help but wonder if it's really that you can't pronounce it' Asmo teased as if he wasn't aware

• 'uhm yes i can' MC was already a bit annoyed

• 'i dunno i mean if i were able to say it right i would' Asmo continued excited for MC's reaction

• 'Iisuse, Asmo! Daca vrei sa-ti stalcesc numele si sa iasa ca si cand l-am mestecat inainte sa-l spun te pot anunta de pe acum ca nu o voi face!' ('Jesus, Asmo! If you want me to ruin your name and for it to sound as if i chewed it before saying it i can already announce you that i will not do so!') MC said and didn't really realise they switched languages

• 'oh my, dear' Asmo jumped in surprise but continued 'the way you talk so freely and harshly.. you should really speak to me like this more often~'

BEELZEBUB

• MC wasn't feeling so well

• it was nothing serious but the guys still exagerated beyond belief and took shifts to take care of them

• it was Beel's turn to feed them and keep them warm, happy and entertained

• MC had given up on trying to explain they just had the mildest headache and agreed to themselves they shut up from then on if they'd ever have an issue again

• Beel decided that food was the best remedy and brought a lot of snacks for him and MC

• he was trying immensely hard to not eat anything he brought which concerned MC

• they started eating to try to make Beel eat too

• it was starting to feel kind of eerie

• 'hey Beel, aren't you gonna eat?'

• '... oh.. no, you should eat..'

• MC understood he was scared for their life but it wasn't even as much as a cold that's no need for starvation

• MC hesitantly brought one of the chocolate bars to Beel s mouth and softly asked him to eat

• '...Beel, te rog mananca cu mine. Am sa ma simt mai bine.' ('Beel, please eat with me. I'll feel much better.')

• realising he's scared MC he let himself eat as much as he wanted

• didn't even notice the change of language but felt a bit warmer and closer to them

BELPHEGOR

• MC and Belphie had been napping for a while when Beel woke them up for a snack

• MC is a sucker for snacks so they were quick to try to get Belphie up

• Belphie really wasn't having it

• while MC was trying to get him up he only did as much as groan

• 'Belphegor, naiba ma ia daca am sa pierd ocazia de a manca din cauza ta' ('Belphegor, on hell i won't miss snack time because of you')

• he was a bit shocked but too sleepy to show it

• only then he realised one of his favourite things about humans (languages) was so close to him

[calumcest]

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter three

[ao3]

hello i’m back on my bullshit aka britpop au 

@tirednotflirting you are never not getting a shoutout in these a/ns i’m sorry for the constant adoration but i truly do adore you and love you for reading through this entire thing and patiently talking to me about it every day you are a trooper and basically at this point a co-writer of the fic so credit to sam for being a wonderful person and friend and beta 

credit also to noel gallagher for being fit i’m so far gone on him now it’s not even funny i need an intervention can someone please fix me actually no don’t i like fancying him he’s cute. listen to hello so the little twat can pay his bills  

Liam, despite - or maybe because of - the various substances coursing through his system, is the first to react. 

“What the fuck?” he says, sounding somewhere between perplexed and outraged. “You fucking know this bloke?” 

“I fucking knew it,” Noel says, fierce and furious and edged with humourless glee. “I fucking knew. Soon as you fucking asked me about them, I knew.” He laughs, hysterical and bitter. “God, you’re an absolute fucking cu- ” 

“Hang on a minute,” Damon interrupts, looking from Michael, who’s staring at his feet, to Calum, and back again. “That’s your Calum?” 

“He’s not my Calum,” Michael mutters to the floor. 

“Fucking sounds like he is,” Graham remarks coolly. 

“How the fuck do you know him?” Liam demands hotly, rounding on Calum.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell us?” Damon says to Michael, voice dangerously calm. “How long have you known?” Michael shrugs uncomfortably, and his right hand comes up to fiddle with his earlobe, and it fucking hurts, because Calum remembers that, remembers how Michael would nervously tuck an errant strand of hair behind his ear and play with his earlobe while his eyes flicked from Calum’s eyes to his lips and back again. 

“You fucking cunt, ” Liam spits, and he sounds like he actually fucking means it, and Calum’s heart drops. 

“Eeyar,” Bonehead says sharply, and puts an arm on Liam’s bicep. “Let’s not do this here, eh?” Fucking hell. Bonehead, of all fucking people, being the sensible one. 

“No,” Liam says, trying to shake Bonehead’s hand off, “let’s fucking do it here. Right fucking here, Calum. You fucking tell me right fucking now why the fuck you never told me you were mates with one of the cunts from Blur.” Damon raises his eyebrows at that, looking somewhere between incensed and amused. 

“Noel,” Bonehead says, pleading, and Calum watches Noel’s expression change from fuck Calum, fuck him, to shit, Bonehead’s right. Not in front of Blur. 

“Liam,” Noel says, and Calum’s never heard him sound so fucking serious in his life. Liam looks at him furiously, a silent conversation happening between the two of them that nobody else can understand, all furrowed brows and twisted lips, ending only when Liam throws his hands up in the air, shoots Calum one last glare, and stomps out of the room.

“Mr Gallagher-” the photographer calls after him, and Liam spins on his heel, fists already balled, and Calum barely has time to think oh, shit before Noel’s running after him and physically manhandling him out of the room as Liam starts shouting random strings of curse words that don’t even make any fucking sense. 

Not for the first time, the Gallaghers leave a stunned silence in their wake as their shouting and yelling gets further and further away, broken only when artists start sending each other uncomfortable looks and murmuring under their breaths. Calum barely even registers it, though, too busy staring at the door Liam and Noel have just barged out of, heart in his mouth. Fuck. 

“Well,” Damon drawls, tone a little too casual, jolting Calum back to reality. “Think you’d better go after them.” 

“Fuck you,” Calum grits out. He throws one final, desperate look at Michael, who’s still steadfastly not looking at him, and then, steeling himself, sets off in the direction of the door. He hears Bonehead and Tony echo similar sentiments at Damon  as he jogs through the door, looking left and right until he sees Noel and Liam at the far end of the corridor, Liam waving his hands in Noel’s face as he refuses to listen to whatever Noel’s trying to tell him. 

“...right fucking cunt, is what,” Liam’s saying as Calum gets closer, sounding indignant. 

“I know that, Liam, but-” Noel breaks off as he spots Calum approaching, and takes a step back, putting a hand on Liam’s arm without even thinking about it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bonehead demands, catching up with Calum. Calum’s not entirely sure who he’s directing the question at, so he just shrugs uncomfortably. 

“What the fuck’s wrong with me? ” Liam says, sounding enraged, and jabbing a finger at Calum. “What about what’s wrong with this cunt, eh? Didn’t fucking think to mention that he knows one of the pricks in Blur .” 

“Is it that big of a fucking deal?” Tony says, and then immediately shrinks back under the weight of a double-Gallagher withering stare. 

And Calum gets it, he does. If he found out Liam knew Damon, a member of their main competition, and never thought to fucking mention it, he’d be beside himself. It’s the principle of it, he thinks, guilt making his stomach roll. You choose your band first. You don’t hide things like that from your band. 

“Look,” he says, and Liam and Noel both turn to glare at him. 

“No,” Liam says, and makes to take a step forward. Noel’s hand tightens on his arm - a warning - and he stops halfway, still glowering at Calum. “You’re a right fucking git, you are. Why the fuck didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your best fucking mate, I am.” Calum swallows, but the guilt doesn’t go down with the saliva. 

“I know,” he says. “I- fuck. I haven’t known for long.” It’s a poor excuse, and he knows it as the words trip off his tongue. He should have told them as soon as he found out. 

“What the fuck d’you mean, you fucking arseho -” 

“Liam,” Noel says sharply, and Liam huffs, but shuts up, fuming silently as Noel turns to fix Calum with a hard stare. Fucking hell. Calum fucking hates their bad-cop-worse-cop spiel. 

“You’d better have a good fucking explanation for why you didn’t tell us,” Noel says, in that same dangerously calm tone that Damon had used on Michael earlier. It makes Calum’s heart constrict, because when Noel’s angry at him it’s hot bursts, heated words and blazing eyes, never this, this fucking coldness. There’s something behind it, something more to it, and he doesn’t know what it is. 

Calum meets his gaze and holds it for a moment, searching through all the righteous anger and fury, watching rage and indignation and bitterness flit through those baby blues until he catches it. It’s just a snippet, just the tiniest fragment that Noel’s let slip through his scowling armour, but it’s there. 

Hurt.

It makes Calum’s stomach curl up into a small ball and then unroll itself ungracefully, twisting almost nauseatingly when his gaze flits to Liam, to the same blue eyes on a different face, and he sees the exact same storm of emotions - incensed, livid, hurt. That’s what this is about. He’s hurt them. 

“I do,” he mumbles, a little apologetically, and Liam throws his hands up in the air and turns his back on Calum, walks a good five steps away muttering oh, this should be fucking good, before turning back around, hovering in place, like he doesn’t quite trust himself to get any closer to Calum.

“Go on then,” Noel says coldly, and Calum sees his hands ball into fists at his side. Calum takes a wary step back, tripping on Bonehead’s foot, and holds his hands up. 

“I’ll tell you,” Calum says, eyeing Noel’s fists, “but don’t you fucking deck me.” Noel considers that for a moment, just a split second, and then cocks his head. 

“You’ll get decked if you fucking deserve it,” he says evenly , and Calum has to concede that that’s kind of fair. 

“How the fuck d’you know him?” Liam demands, still about six feet away. Calum hesitates. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, can almost feel the curiosity in Bonehead and Tony’s eyes boring into the back of his head and the hurt and rage in Liam and Noel’s gazes, and he swallows again. 

He could tell them Michael’s his childhood best friend. It’s not a lie, after all. They’d never stopped being best friends, not when they kissed, or when they fucked, or when they fell in love. It had always been there in the background, a soft hum under Calum’s fingers in Michael’s hair, under Michael’s lips on Calum’s throat. It wouldn’t be a lie, as such, just an omission of some of the facts. 

But Calum knows it wouldn’t explain everything, wouldn’t explain why he hid it for so long and why he’s acted so fucking weird about it, and he knows if he doesn’t tell the rest of them everything now, they’re fucking finished. And it’s not the band he cares about - fuck the band, give a fuck, he’ll go back to Manchester and fucking fix garden walls for the rest of his life - it’s his friendships. 

Liam and Noel have been everything to Calum since he moved to Manchester. It had been sheer fucking luck of the draw that Gallagher and Hood were next to each other in the register, so, four days into his new school and completely friendless and alone, he’d been shafted with quite possibly the worst Chemistry partner anyone’s ever had. Although, he has to concede, he’s probably the second-worst Chemistry partner anyone’s ever had, and it didn’t matter anyway, because they were both interested in other types of chemistry, other chemical reactions that could be obtained with money or flirting.  Once they’d figured that out, worked out that neither of them cared about school and both of them cared about getting high and having a laugh, it had been a pretty small step from eeyar, my mam’s out at work, d’you want to bunk off and nick some of her booze? to you’re the only cunt in the world I care about, you are. The only fucking one. 

Noel hadn’t been in the picture, then, too busy on the road with the Inspiral Carpets (much to Liam’s endless fucking pride), and when he’d come home a year later in the middle of the night he’d scared the absolute shit out of Calum, who’d been sleeping in his bed, by leaning over and peering at him with an exhausted, irritated, and yet intrigued expression on his face. 

(“Eeyar,” he’d said mildly, and Calum’s eyes had flown open as he’d shot bolt upright in the bed. “That’s my fucking bed, that is.” Calum had just stared at him, lips parted in shock, eyes wide, still too groggy to process that the eyes staring back at him were the exact same eyes as Liam’s, and then Liam had stirred, mumbled something, opened his eyes and grinned wider and happier than Calum had ever seen before. 

“Noely G!” he’d said, all soft and sleepy, and Noel had rolled his eyes and huffed, but his lips had twitched in a tiny, fond smile. 

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” Noel had warned, two seconds before Liam had flung himself into Noel’s arms and they’d both toppled to the ground, Liam laughing and Noel grumbling but reaching up to pet Liam’s hair all the same.) 

Noel hadn’t wanted to spend much time with them, at first. Why the fuck would I want to hang out with my eighteen-year-old brother and his weird fucking Aussie mate? he’d say derisively, scoffing, but Liam always knew how to play him, knew how to wheedle and whine and praise and insult at just the right levels until Noel would break, sigh, put his magazine down and pick up his guitar and play with them.

That had been it, really. Calum couldn’t remember ever having that much fun before, ever feeling so at home before, ever feeling so safe. The three of them had just clicked, just fallen right into a routine like they were made to slot into each other’s lives. Noel and Liam felt like jigsaw pieces that nestled neatly against him, completed parts of him that he didn’t even know were incomplete. Calum and Liam were rarely apart, and Noel dipped his toe in more often than he took it out. It was Calum Liam would turn to when he was having nightmares about his dad, or when Noel had fucking breathed wrong, or when Noel had decided to move out and Liam had been so furious at him that he’d sat sobbing on Calum’s floor for a whole night. It was Calum Noel would turn to when Liam threw a tantrum, or when he wanted a hand moving furniture into his new flat, or when he wanted someone to go for a few pints with. 

And so it should have been the two of them Calum turned to when he found out about Michael. 

It’s not like they don’t know about his bisexuality, either. He’d come out to Liam before he’d even come out to his mum, blurting it one evening when they were headed to the pub, and Liam had just shrugged, put an arm around him and said hard not to fancy blokes when you spend a lot of time around me, eh? 

Noel had been a little different. Noel had sent him looks from under lowered lashes that had made Calum’s stomach fizz in a way he’d never quite felt before, an echo of something he’d only ever felt with Michael. Noel’s hand would linger on the small of Calum’s back, or around his waist, or on his forearm, making Calum’s skin buzz with something he’d never quite been able to place. It had culminated in one night when Liam was at some girl’s house and Calum had spent the night at the Gallaghers’ anyway, listening to the new songs Noel had written for their brand new band, singing soft and sweet and clear with plump lips and darkened eyes until one of them had snapped. Calum could never remember whether it was him or Noel that had lunged forward first, pressed the first desperate kiss to the other’s lips, but it didn’t really matter, because the end result was the same; frantic kisses, fumbling hands, and pretty, really fucking pretty sounds from Noel that made Calum dizzy with want and made him think God, this is what fucking music is. 

And so, Calum thinks, as his chest aches uncomfortably from the guilt pumping through his veins with every beat of his heart, he has to tell them the whole truth. They’ve been everything to him for the past four, five years, and they deserve to know.

“Well?” someone prompts - Noel, Calum realises as he’s jolted out of his racing thoughts - and Calum swallows. 

“He’s my ex,” he says, and his voice cracks on the last word. 

The words sit between all of them for a moment, nudging at them, testing their boundaries, pushing at the thin lines tying the five of them together, before Tony frowns, like he’s not getting it. 

“Your ex? ” he says, a little sceptical, like Calum’s having him on, and oh, yeah, shit . Tony doesn’t actually know Calum’s into guys. Fucking hell. This is the last way he wanted to come out to him. 

“Yeah,” Calum says. He’s not sure how to elaborate on that, so he doesn’t. Tony just frowns, like he’s still not sure whether to believe Calum, but doesn’t say anything else. 

“When?” Noel says, and there’s an edge of something to his tone that Calum can’t quite place. 

“Before I left,” Calum says, which is the best answer he can come up with. They’d never quite started anything, never quite stopped it either. It just was, and then it wasn’t. “We never, like. There wasn’t a conversation, or anything. We just...were. Together, I mean. He was my best mate since I was seven, so.” He shrugs again, terse and awkward. “And then I moved here.” 

“Why the fuck didn’t you say?” Liam explodes. 

“Because he’s in fucking Blur!” Calum says. “I didn’t even fucking know until that magazine-”

“ That’s why you-”

“ Yes , and-”

“So you’ve known for, what, three fucking mo- ”

“Hang on,” Noel interrupts. “What fucking magazine?” 

“Cunt nicked a magazine from the dentist’s,” Liam says derisively, waving a dismissive hand in Calum’s direction. “Wouldn’t tell me why.” 

“It had a picture of Michael in it,” Calum says. 

“So, what, you nicked it for your wank bank?” Noel says irritably. 

“ No, ” Calum says emphatically. “Just-” he cuts himself off. He’s not really sure what he was doing with that magazine, really. Taking it had just felt like the natural thing to do.

“I wouldn’t’ve fucking cared if you’d said it then,” Liam snaps. “I don’t fucking care that you shagged someone in Blur, how the fuck were you to know? I care that you didn’t fucking tell me.” Calum swallows.

“I know,” he says. “And I’m sorry.” Liam doesn’t say anything to that for a moment, just stares at him, blue eyes wide and angry, and then scoffs and stomps off. Noel throws Calum a look, a look that says you’ve fucked up and I’m fucking furious and a little bit of how fucking dare you upset my brother like that, and then takes off after him. Calum watches them go, watches Noel put a hand on Liam’s arm and Liam shake him off angrily, and then Bonehead clears his throat. 

“Well,” he says nonchalantly. “Hope the shag was fucking worth it, mate.” 

  -------

  The fallout from the argument is sort of what Calum had expected, and sort of isn’t. 

Bonehead and Tony don’t care all that much, predictably. Bonehead’s more concerned about whether Calum wants tickets to the United Champions League qualifier in August (which of course he fucking doesn’t, meaning Bonehead’s just looking for a way to tell him we’re alright without having to say it), and, once it’s been established that yes, Calum does actually date blokes, they’re not just having him on, Tony doesn’t see what the big deal is. 

(“Who fucking cares?” he says, sounding bemused. Calum puts his head in his hands. 

“D’you understand either of them at all?” he says into his fingers. 

“No,” Tony says. “Do you?” Calum’s silent for a moment.

“Fair point.”)

Liam snaps at Calum for a day or two, throws furious looks at him and tries to goad him into fights, but he’d been more upset when Calum had lost his favourite earring a few years ago, so Calum just waits it out. When Liam stops scoffing at every suggestion Calum makes about the Glastonbury setlist, stops making loud, derisive remarks whenever Calum enters or leaves a room, Calum takes it as his cue to sneak up behind him and wrap his arms around Liam, rest his chin on Liam’s shoulder and whisper don’t fucking knock my teeth out, alright? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You’re my best mate, and I should’ve said. Didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t care about you. I love you, and I need you. Liam’s over it in a flash after that, tilting his head to the side to send Calum a brilliant grin and pressing a quick kiss to Calum’s temple. Liam’s like that, Calum thinks, laughing and ducking from Liam’s attempts to keep pressing sloppy kisses all over his face. He’ll blow up, he’ll scream and shout and burn hot with anger for a few days, and then the fever breaks, and Liam can barely remember why he was so pissed off in the first place. 

Noel, however, is a different story. 

He doesn’t even look in Calum’s direction for three days, which is longer than they’ve ever argued, even when Calum had kissed Noel’s girlfriend last year. Which, in fairness, wouldn’t have happened if Noel had been a bit more forthcoming about exactly which ‘fucking gorgeous blonde girl’ was his girlfriend, but whatever. The point is Calum’s not used to this kind of animosity from Noel, and especially isn’t used to Noel harbouring resentment against him for this long, and to the fucking coldness of it. He’s used to Noel snapping, making snide comments, laughing loudly and spitefully when Calum fucks up, not this frostiness, this icing out. 

Rehearsals are tense and uncomfortable. Bonehead and Tony refuse to take sides between Calum and Noel, which Calum had expected - he refuses to side against either of the Gallaghers if he can ever help it - but Liam refuses too, which takes Calum by surprise. 

(“No,” he says sharply, when Calum sends him a look after Noel snaps at him for idly playing a bass riff while he’s waiting for Tony to finish setting his drums up. “You made your fucking bed, Cal.”

It’s true, and it’s fair, but it still feels like a kick in the teeth that Liam’s not taking the opportunity to take Calum’s side, because it means he’s taking Noel’s.) 

After about a week, when the Glastonbury gig is looming over them and Noel still won’t say a single word to Calum besides can you fucking play in time? Is that really so fucking hard?, Calum’s had enough. 

He waits until one rehearsal is over, when Noel’s thrown his hands up in the air and said you’re all fucking shite and stalked out of the room - their cue to pack up and go home - shaking his head when Liam slings an arm around his shoulders and asks jovially whether he wants to go to the pub. 

“Nah,” Calum says. “I’m going to try and talk to Noel.” Liam raises an eyebrow, removes his arm from Calum’s shoulders, and pulls a face. 

“On your own head be it,” he says, and jogs off to catch up with Bonehead. 

Calum heads out of the practice room and into the corridor, heading for the room Noel often locks himself away in to write or when he’s had enough of Liam. He can hear strumming from inside, gentle humming accompanying it, and he hesitates for a split second, letting the unguarded Noel that no one ever sees wash over him for a moment. The only thing besides Liam that can break any of Noel's barriers down is a guitar, which is why Noel locks himself away when he's writing, can't stand to let anybody see him without twelve layers of defences up. It feels like Calum's intruding, though, standing here listening to Noel be at peace when he's always so turbulent, so he raises his hand and knocks on the door. The humming and strumming stop abruptly, and an annoyed voice calls: “What?”

“Can I come in?” Calum says. There’s a pause. 

“No.” But there was a pause, and if Calum obeyed every single one of Noel's impulsive commands he’d be riddled with more inconsistencies than the fucking Bible, so he pushes the door open anyway. 

“What d’you want?” Noel says irritably, but it’s the first thing he’s said to Calum that isn’t shut the fuck up in about two days, which is a start. Calum steps into the room and shuts the door behind him, and Noel sighs, all long-suffering, and turns back to his guitar, plucking a few strings tunelessly. 

“Can we talk?” Calum says. 

“Yeah,” Noel says. “Fuck off. Talk over.” Calum bites back a snarky retort and sits down on the chair opposite Noel. 

“Look,” he begins, and Noel holds up a hand to stop him. 

“I don’t want to have a big fucking talk about our feelings,” he says curtly. Calum sighs. 

“How the fuck do I make it better, then?” he says. Noel shrugs, tight and tense. 

“Time travel,” he suggests, and Calum’s lips twitch in spite of himself. 

“I said I was sorry,” he says, because he did. He’s said it a hundred times, a hundred ways, through apologies and through beseeching looks and through leaving Noel the last custard cream. 

“What’ve you been apologising for, though?” Noel says shrewdly. “For the fact you did it, or the fact we found out?” Calum holds his gaze, feels the blue burn hot into his brown, like Noel’s trying to tease out the worst bits of Calum’s soul. 

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Calum says plainly. Noel blinks, a fleeting look of surprise passing across his face. He wasn’t expecting that, clearly. 

“Who said that?” he says, aiming for contemptuous and coming off defensive. Calum just fixes him with a hard stare, one that says it’s written all over your face, and I’ll fucking say it out loud if you want me to. Noel blinks back at him for a moment before looking away, pursing his lips. He’s considering his options; Calum can see it in the way his eyes narrow slightly. Calum hopes Noel can't come up with any more options than Calum can - keep stewing or forgive but don't forget are all Calum's got, so there's a fifty-fifty chance he'll get what he's looking for.

“Fucking fine,” Noel mutters eventually, and Calum’s eyes flutter shut in relief, the pressure that’s been weighing on his chest for the past week suddenly disappearing. Fuck. “You’re still a cunt, though,” Noel adds, because he can’t stand not having the last word, and Calum nods, leaning back in the chair. He can live with that. 

“What’s that?” Calum says, nodding at the guitar to indicate the song Noel had been playing, testing the waters. Is this a truce, or is it forgiveness? 

“That?” Noel says, looking down at the guitar. “Just playing around.” A truce, then. For now. 

“For the next album?” Noel shrugs. 

“Maybe,” he says. “Depends. Got a lot of other fucking brilliant songs already written for it.” Calum huffs out a laugh, rolls his eyes, and Noel smiles back. 

“You sorted out the Glastonbury setlist yet?” Calum asks. The smile slips off Noel’s face. 

“Yeah,” he says. Calum cocks his head. 

“What?” 

“What?” 

“You look all fucking mardy, is what.” Noel rolls his eyes. 

“Mardy, fucking hell,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re a right fucking Manny boy now, you are.” 

“Nah,” Calum says, grinning. “Fucking true blue, I am. Why d’you think I support City over United?” 

“‘Cause Liam would’ve fucking nailed your balls to the front door if you hadn’t,” Noel says, which is, in fairness, at least half of the reason Calum had decided on City. 

“He hasn’t nailed Bonehead’s to any doors yet,” Calum points out. Noel pulls a face. 

"Would you wanna touch Bonehead's balls?" he says, and Calum snorts. He's got a point. 

They lull into silence for a moment, Noel's fingers twitching on the strings of his guitar like he's itching to play but doesn't want to in front of Calum, but he's not told Calum to fuck off yet, which is a start. Calum's going to take every inch Noel gives him, claw as many centimetres out of them as he can, so he sits back a little, eyes Noel and says: "What's the setlist, then?" Noel looks at him, like he thinks Calum’s asking him a trick question. “What?” Calum adds, a little self-consciously. 

“You know Blur are playing the same day as we are?” Noel says, and his tone is flat. “Same stage, too.” Calum’s stomach plummets.

“Oh,” he says, and he can see from the sour look on Noel’s face that he’s not doing a good job of hiding the way his heart is pounding in his chest at the fucking prospect of maybe, just maybe, seeing Michael again. 

“You going to talk to him?” Noel says harshly. Calum hesitates, and then shakes his head. 

“You’re my band,” he says, even though it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “You know where my loyalties lie.” Noel considers him for a moment - a long moment - and then exhales, and smiles. 

That was a test, Calum thinks, as he smiles back. It was a test, and he passed. 

(But his heart might not have.) 

  -------

  Glastonbury comes around a lot fucking faster than Calum had expected. 

Noel takes a few days to mull their truce over and then seems to decide that he’s extended it into a full on peace, passing Calum an unfinished song at two in the morning when they’re both high on something Liam had picked up somewhere. Calum doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to break the fragile understanding between the two of them, just pockets the piece of paper and offers Noel a grin and another bottle of beer. 

The days pass in a blur of travelling and rehearsing, and they get a week off between their last show somewhere down south and Glastonbury. Noel’s definition of a week off, though, seems to be very different from everyone else’s. Calum’s looking forward to going home, eating some good food, not being woken up by Liam going for a run at seven every fucking morning, maybe even getting around to fixing that wall, but Noel’s having none of it. 

(“Did you fucking hear us in Glasgow?” Noel demands, when everybody drags themselves into the tiny, cramped practice space in the basement at ten a.m., Liam still absolutely fucking steaming and clearly not having got round to going to bed yet. 

“We sounded fucking fine,” Bonehead says. 

“We sounded fucking shite,” Noel corrects. 

“Speak for your fucking self,” Tony says, and the rest of them round on him in disbelief. 

“Hang on a minute-” Bonehead starts. 

“Eeyar, I sound shi-” Noel says indignantly.

“That’s a bit fucking rich-” Calum begins. 

“You’re the worst fucking drummer I’ve ever heard,” Liam says, grumpy and disdainful, which about sums it up.) 

Calum’s sort of glad, though, because it keeps him busy. In the little moments he does get to himself - half an hour between dinner and Liam ringing his house and demanding he comes down to the pub with him, twenty minutes when Noel’s on the phone arguing with Marcus at the record label about Live Forever again - all he can think of is Michael. 

It gets worse the closer they get to Glastonbury. The first few days, when Glastonbury’s still about a week away and still doesn’t quite feel real, he can push Michael out of his mind, distract himself with laughing at Liam telling some story about Noel pushing him in the road when they were kids, ‘cause he knew I was gonna be fitter than him, I reckon. Michael crosses his mind, but it’s fleeting, and Calum doesn’t dwell on him. By the fourth or fifth day, though, Glastonbury’s looming over them and they’re being told every three seconds not to be late for the fucking bus, bus call’s at fucking six, did you hear me, that’s six, and William fucking Gallagher if you’re a second late I’ll give Noel special dispensation to murder you. It starts sinking in then, in brief moments of panic where Calum realises that fuck, in forty-eight hours, in thirty-six hours, in twenty-four hours, he might see Michael again. 

A million different scenarios cross his mind. Michael screaming at him, Calum screaming back; Michael kissing him, Calum kissing back; Michael walking past and not even looking at him, and Calum’s heart breaking. He’s glad for it when Noel rings and asks him to make sure Liam gets to the bus call on time, because fussing over Liam gives him something else to focus all of his nervous energy on. 

They drive through the night, and Calum doesn’t sleep. The rest of them don’t either, though, drinking and smoking (except Liam, on Noel’s orders, and much to his chagrin) and snorting what Liam claims is coke but Noel’s pretty sure is just crushed caffeine pills. By the time they’re all coming down from their wired highs, around four or five in the morning, Calum’s so exhausted that he slips into an easy, dreamless sleep, and it feels like no time has passed at all before he’s been shaken awake gently, blinking up at solemn blue eyes. 

“Soundcheck,” is all Liam says, not looking tired or hungover in the fucking slightest. Calum groans, mouth dry and throat scratchy, and struggles into a seated position to find Liam’s got a cup of water and two paracetamols in his hand. 

“I fucking love you,” Calum says hoarsely, and Liam laughs as Calum grabs the water and pills. 

“Fucking right,” he says with a grin, and then walks away. 

Calum downs the water and pills, and then hears Bonehead shout for him and yells back I’m coming, I’m coming, rolling out of bed and pulling on the first clothes he sees. By the time he’s made his way into the lounge area, rubbing at his eyes blearily and sending up prayers to various gods that the paracetamol kicks in quickly, everyone’s ready to go. It’s probably for the best that Calum doesn’t have time to eat breakfast; his stomach’s flipping like crazy, and Liam’s far too fucking buzzing to stay in the bus a minute longer, hopping from foot to foot with that kind of childlike energy that he’s always inexplicably got, counterbalancing Noel’s stiff, tense posture. 

“Are we doing Walrus?” Liam asks, as they file off the bus and are led in the direction of a tiny room.

“Did you read the fucking setlist?” Noel snaps. 

“You changed it seven fucking times,” Liam shoots back. 

“I fucking showed you the final one this morning,” Noel says. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. “What’s all this, then?” Their instruments are set out, mic stands and all, and three techs are hovering by the amps. 

“Quick soundcheck,” one of them explains. “Don’t have time to do a full one for every artist. Just need to see how you want it, then we can set it up on stage when you’re on.” Liam stares at her in disbelief, and then shakes his head and turns to head out of the room. 

“Eeyar,” Noel says sharply, catching him by the elbow. “Where the fuck d’you think you’re going?” 

“What the fuck is this?” Liam demands, gesturing at the whole setup. 

“What, you thought we’d have a full fucking half hour soundcheck?” Noel says. “It’s a fucking festival, Liam.” Liam stares at him for a minute, because he clearly had thought they were going to have a full soundcheck, and then shakes Noel off and walks back out the way they’d come in. 

“Uh-” one of the techs says, but Noel sighs, loud and exasperated, and turns back to them with a shake of his head. 

“Fucking let him go,” he says contemptuously. “He’s just the fucking tambourine player.” 

The soundcheck only lasts ten minutes, and Noel insists that he’ll sort his own amps out anyway, because he’s a fucking control freak, and then they’re told to fuck off and come back at five. 

“Well,” Bonehead says, as they file out of the room. “I’m going back to sleep.” Without waiting for any of them to say anything, he turns on his heel and heads straight back in the direction of the bus.

“The Inspirals are playing today,” Noel says, already looking over Tony’s head and craning around Calum to see if he can spot them anywhere. “Gonna see if I can find them.” 

“Think I’m going to get a drink,” Tony says, and Calum sighs, because that leaves him with the job of finding Liam. 

“Fine, fuck you both,” he says, and receives a middle finger and a two-fingered salute for his trouble. 

He heads halfway with Noel, who peels off abruptly because that’s fucking Johnny Cash, that is, I’m fucking watching that, fuck the Inspirals, and then gets lost on the other half of the way because there are people in black running back and forth and shouting at each other and Calum keeps following them thinking they know where they're going only to end up at a portaloo. 

The artists’ area is just a small tent selling incredibly overpriced beer, but Calum buys one anyway, because the paracetamol’s only half-dulled his headache and Calum’s a big believer in hair of the dog. He sips it as he wanders, eyes flitting left to right to try and spot a loud Mancunian in an oversized jumper. He can’t seem to find Liam, but sees two of the blokes from Radiohead in the distance, one of whom raises a hand at him a little hesitantly. Calum raises his beer in return, because it feels like the polite thing to do, and the guy seems to waver for a moment  before heading over, and Calum groans internally. Fucking hell. Maybe Noel and Liam have the right idea, being absolute cunts to everybody in the business. 

“Calum, right?” the guy says when he gets close, and bloody hell, he’s even fucking shorter than Noel. 

“Yeah,” Calum says. 

“Thom,” the guy says, holding his hand out. Calum stares at it for a moment, trying to process is this twenty-something musician trying to shake my hand like we’re fucking businessmen, and Thom retracts it, a little awkwardly. 

“You’re from Radiohead,” Calum says, more of a statement than a question. 

“Yeah,” Thom says. 

“Creep’s a good song,” Calum says, taking a sip from his beer. Thom cocks his head, like he’s trying to work out if Calum’s taking the piss. 

“Thanks,” he says eventually, a little suspiciously. It’s fair enough, Calum thinks, when he remembers the last time they’d crossed paths; a few weeks ago, Calum cackling as Noel and Liam screamed but I’m a cock, I’m a willy as Radiohead traipsed onto the stage to collect their award. It is a good song, though, although Calum sort of prefers the Gallagher version. 

“You seen my singer, by any chance?” Calum says, figuring it can’t hurt to ask. “‘Bout this tall, mouthy northern lad. Probably getting into a fistfight, or something.” 

“Liam,” Thom says, and really, Calum should have known Thom knew who Liam was. Who the fuck doesn’t know Liam Gallagher? 

“Yeah,” Calum says, “him.” Thom nods.

“Yeah, saw him about ten minutes ago,” he says. 

“Where?” Thom turns, points in the vague direction of a tent in the distance. 

“He was having a go at the barman for the price of the beers,” Thom says, and Calum snorts. 

“Sounds like fucking Liam,” he says, and can’t help the fondness that edges his tone. Thom grins at him, like he's finally finding his footing. 

"They're almost three quid," he says. "It's daylight fucking robbery."

“Fucking festivals,” Calum says, a little derisively, and takes another sip from his extortionately-priced beer. 

“Fucking festivals,” Thom agrees. “Anyway, I’m on in a few, so I’d best get off.”

“I’d better go and save the rest of Glastonbury from Liam,” Calum says. Thom nods, and takes a step back. 

“Oh, by the way,” he adds, as Calum turns to head in the direction of the tent Thom had pointed out. “One of the guys from Blur was looking for you.” Calum’s stomach drops.

“What?” he says, a little too quickly, spinning back around. “Who?” Thom shrugs. 

“Blonde one,” he says. “Don’t know their names.” 

Oh, shit. 

Shit.  

“Cheers,” Calum says, glad for how steady it comes out, and jogs off in the direction of the tent Liam was supposedly last seen in, stomach churning. 

Out of all the fantasies he’s had about this day, about seeing Michael somehow, none of them had involved Michael seeking him out. It had all been chance encounters, Michael watching the Oasis set or Calum watching the Blur set, or bumping into each other backstage, or seeing each other across the small stretch of grass outside the artists’ tent. He’d never stopped to think that maybe Michael would want to speak to him, not after how he’d acted at the awards ceremony. 

“Cal!” he hears, and he whips around with a racing heart, thinking that for a moment it was Michael, the easy way the nickname would drip off Michael’s tongue, but when he turns, he sees Liam, grinning widely, holding up a can of beer that he’s clearly nicked off the tour bus and making his way over to Calum. 

“You’re fucking drunk,” Calum states, when Liam gets within four feet of him. Liam raises an eyebrow, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, and nods. 

“Yep,” he says happily. “How was soundcheck?” 

“Noel’s not happy with you,” Calum informs him, and Liam shrugs. 

“When the fuck is he?” he says carelessly. "I'm arsed. The tit doesn't want anyone to have any fucking fun." Calum just sighs and shakes his head, palms still slick with sweat, eyes flitting over Liam’s head every three seconds just in case Michael’s magically appeared behind him. Liam’s not as drunk as he smells, though, because he catches it, twisting around to look at what’s caught Calum’s attention. 

“What?” he says, when he’s confronted with absolutely nothing. 

“What?” Calum says, defensive and deflecting. Liam turns back to him, both eyebrows raised now. 

“You looking for Mike?” Liam says, a little too knowingly. 

“Michael,” Calum corrects, without thinking. 

“Well, the Blur lot call him Mike,” Liam says. 

“He hates being called Mike,” Calum mutters. 

“Well,” Liam says, with a nonchalant shrug, "not anymore." There's no malice behind the words but they still hurt, because it reminds Calum that he doesn’t know Michael anymore, doesn’t know Mike. 

“Thom from Radiohead said he was looking for me,” Calum says, and he watches Liam’s eyebrows disappear back under his sunglasses, his lips twisting in a frown. 

“You told our kid you wouldn’t talk to him,” he says, and it comes out a little petulant. 

“I haven’t,” Calum says, and hopes Liam doesn’t catch the evasiveness in his tone. Technically, if Michael talks to him, he’s not lying. 

“Good,” Liam says, and then grins brightly. “Want to go and laugh at Radiohead?” 

“Are they on?” Liam shrugs. 

“Think so. Heard some whiny shite out there, ‘s gotta be them, innit?” Calum snorts, and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, go on then,” he says, and Liam’s grin widens. “Anything to make you smile.” 

“Soppy cunt,” Liam says, but his eyes are soft and fond, and Calum laughs as he follows him in the direction of the stages. 

Anything to get Michael off his mind, too. 

  -------

 Noel’s still furious at Liam by the time their set rolls around, and Liam plays into it, refusing to sing the second verse of Fade Away and demanding they shuffle the setlist to play Supersonic first. He cackles when Noel glares at him, grins gleefully when Noel shouts a string of curse words and stomps off, and takes an idle sip from his beer with twinkling eyes when both Bonehead and Calum throw him exasperated looks before following after Noel with ten minutes to go until they’re on stage. 

They manage to convince Noel to come back - or at least to make him feel like coming back is something they’re begging him to do rather than something he was going to do anyway, because Noel always loves feeling like he’s doing them a fucking favour. He kicks Liam in the shin when he passes him on his way to the stairs leading to the stage, hard, and Liam scowls and hurls his almost-empty can of beer at him, missing by a few inches and hitting Tony instead. 

The set passes in a fucking blur. The crowd actually cheer them onto the stage, which makes Calum’s stomach twist and attempt to make its way up his oesophagus in a way that’s strangely pleasant. Liam sings his fucking heart out, looking lazy and bored and effortless, but Calum can see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers are clenched around his stupid fucking tambourine. They sound fucking good, they all know they do, and when Noel and Calum both head for the beers at the back of the stage at the same time they share a quick smile, a fuck, can you believe this is real? smile. 

Calum tries not to scan the crowd for Michael, he really fucking does, but he can’t help himself, and he also can’t help the little pang of disappointment when he can’t spot Michael’s telltale unruly blonde hair anywhere. It’s probably for the best, he tells himself, looking back down at his bass and really focusing on the song. He probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate if Michael were there. 

Noel’s on a fucking high when they get off, kisses Bonehead square on the lips and pulls Liam into a fond headlock, rubbing his knuckles across the top of Liam’s sweaty head as Liam protests but doesn’t try to pull away. 

“That was fucking mega, ” he says, grinning widely as he releases Liam, who stands up straight and shakes his hair out. 

“Fucking was, and all,” Liam says proudly, slinging an arm over Noel’s shoulders. “Me and me little brother-” 

“Eeyar, watch it,” Noel says, but he’s still grinning. 

“-playing fucking Glastonbury,” Liam finishes. “Fucking hell. Wonder if Mam was watching.” 

“‘Course she fucking was,” Noel says, a note of reassurance in his voice. “Wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see her most handsome son play fucking Glastonbury, would she, eh? And you, I s’pose.” He ducks out of Liam’s arm as Liam makes a noise of outrage and lunges for him, laughing, but Liam’s laughing too, chasing after Noel as he skips out of Liam’s reach, and the two of them start shrieking like fucking madmen and tear off in the direction of the artists’ tent, earning themselves strange looks from everyone they pass. Tony, Bonehead and Calum watch them as they disappear into the distance for a moment, each of them thinking the same thing - who, how, and what the fuck are the Gallagher brothers? 

“I reckon if I ever understand those two I’d deserve a fucking Nobel prize,” Bonehead comments, and Calum and Tony both murmur their agreement. 

Tony’s mate’s is in some band playing on the fucking Jazz World Stage, of all things, so he says he’s going to go and see if he can catch the tail end of their set. Calum tells him it’s a good fucking thing he kept that to himself until after the brothers had left, because he wouldn’t hear the end of it otherwise, and Bonehead grins and says gives me the pleasure of telling them, too. Tony just flips them both off as he walks away, and they return the favour.  

“I’m fucking rank,” Bonehead says, not sounding all too unhappy about it, as they approach the tent. 

“You are,” Calum agrees, and ducks the inevitable swat Bonehead aims at the back of his head. 

“You’re not all fucking roses yourself,” Bonehead tells him, and Calum shrugs. He can live with that. 

“I’ll shower later,” he says. 

“You fucking will,” Bonehead says. “Not fucking getting on a bus with you smelling like that.” Calum scowls, because he knows he doesn’t smell that bad, and Bonehead throws him a winning smile as he ducks into the tent ahead of Calum. 

Liam and Noel are at the bar, shouting loudly at the bartender and each other and anyone who comes within three feet of them, and Calum decides to steer well clear of that and head out of the back of the tent to the little stretch of grass. 

“I fancy a beer,” Bonehead says, already halfway to the bar, and Calum shrugs - clearly Bonehead’s not seen the fucking prices - and steps out on his own. 

There are a few people milling around, a few people Calum thinks he might have seen at afterparties and a few people that are clearly hangers-on, and he heads for an empty spot by the fence in the corner, not wanting to go through a conversation with any of these people. He digs around in his pocket for a cigarette and puts it to his lips, cupping his left hand around it as he fumbles with his lighter in his right, and his eyes flutter shut as he inhales the first delicious drag and holds it in. 

“They’ll kill you, y’know,” a low voice says, and Calum’s eyes fly open as he chokes on the smoke currently in his lungs. 

A blonde, Thom had said. A blonde from Blur. 

Not Michael. 

Damon. 

“Gotta die of something,” Calum says, when he recovers, noting the amused expression on Damon’s face. 

“Good for the nerves, too,” Damon agrees, and brings his own cigarette to his lips. Fucking hypocrite. 

“What d’you want?” Calum says. Damon takes a long drag of the cigarette, eyeing Calum shrewdly. Calum’s had enough of shrewd blue eyes, fucking hell. 

“To talk about Mike,” Damon says eventually, and tilts his head up to exhale a cloud of grey smoke. Calum watches it swirl for a minute, separating into wisps that the wind catches and carries away from them. 

“What about him?” 

“What happened with the two of you?” Damon sounds curious. Calum shrugs jerkily. 

“Shouldn’t you be asking him that?” he fires back. 

“I did.” 

“So what are you here for?” 

“Your side of it.” 

“What the fuck d’you want that for?” Damon shrugs, and takes another drag of his cigarette. It reminds Calum of his own, burning right down to the filter in his hand, and he brings it to his lips. Damon has a point about it being good for the nerves. 

“I care about him,” Damon says simply, after a moment. He doesn’t add anything else, but the threat is clear: if you’ve fucked with him, or if you ever fuck with him again, I’ll fucking kill you. Calum would like to see him try, because he’d have to get past both Noel and Liam first.

“Well, whatever the fuck he told you is probably true,” Calum mutters. Damon cocks his head. 

“You dated?” Calum tries not to squirm. 

“Yeah.” 

“You fell in love?” 

“Guess so.” 

“You dropped him the minute you moved to the UK?” Calum’s head whips around to face Damon. What the fuck has Michael been saying? That's not true, not really. He'd kept sending letters for a year and a half, or so, hadn't he? What was he supposed to do when Michael stopped writing as often? 

“Not exactly,” he says, and Damon raises an eyebrow. 

“You didn’t start ignoring his letters?” he questions. 

“Well, yeah, but he stopped sending as many,” Calum says. Damon’s eyebrows stay raised, and his lips quirk up in a small, almost sad smile. 

“You don’t see a correlation there?” he says. Calum shrugs, and takes another drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and grinding it out with his shoe. 

“He never told me he was coming here,” he says. “Never told me he was in Blur, either. Way I see it, we’re even.” They’re not even, they’ll never be fucking even, but he’s not going to tell Damon that. 

He starts heading back in the direction of the tent, intending to go straight to Noel and tell him Damon’s just tried to get in his head about Michael, but Damon catches his arm as he steps away. Calum turns back around and yanks his arm out of Damon’s grasp with a scowl.

“How long have you known?” Damon asks. 

“What?” Calum says irritably. 

“About Mike. How long have you known?” Calum stares at him. 

“How long has he known?” he asks. 

“A year,” Damon says, and Calum’s heart clenches. Michael’s known Calum’s in Oasis for a fucking year, and never once tried to reach out. 

“Well?” Damon prompts, and Calum clenches his teeth.

“Three months,” he says shortly, and then turns on his heel and heads in the direction of the artists’ tent before Damon can say anything else, heart in his fucking mouth. 

A year. A fucking year. Michael’s known what Calum’s been up to, known about him and his band, probably even known where he’s been on the odd occasion for a fucking year, and he’s never said anything, never even mentioned it to his own bandmates until his arm was twisted. 

Well, Calum thinks bitterly, as he ducks into the tent to see Noel, Liam and Bonehead all laughing and grinning at the bar. At least he knows where he stands with Michael, then. And at least he’s somewhere with Liam’s drugs and overpriced booze to drown his sorrows. 

  -------

  A few hours later, a little high and a lot stoned and even more drunk, Calum’s wandering around outside when Liam catches him, slips an arm around his waist and pulls him in for a warm, sweaty hug. 

“Want to go and heckle Blur?” he asks, grinning into Calum’s shoulder, sunglasses pressing uncomfortably into Calum’s collarbone, and Calum’s heart skips a beat. 

“Are they playing?” Liam pulls back and nods, and Calum shrugs as nonchalantly as he can. 

“Sure,” he says, wishing Liam would take the sunglasses off so Calum can see what he’s thinking. Liam doesn’t, just grabs Calum by the arm and starts steering him in the direction of the stage they’d played all of six hours ago. 

They pass by one of the other stages, a smaller one, where what sounds like a country duo are playing, deep voices booming while middle-aged men tap their feet thoughtfully to the acoustic guitars, and then the sound of guitars and a faux-Cockney accent start to drown them out. They turn the corner and then they’re there, squinting at the tiny pinpricks on the stage about a fucking mile in front of them. 

“Fucking hell,” Liam complains. “Can’t even fucking see the pricks.” Without waiting for a response from Calum, he starts shoving through the crowd, shouting watch my fucking beer at anyone who jostles back against him, and Calum follows close behind before the crowd can close around the path he’s created again, until they’re about five rows from the stage. Calum’s been so focused on his feet the whole time, not wanting to trip up and spill the the fucking £2.50 beer that he’d shelled out on, that he’s not actually looked up, and when he does he’s startled by how close they actually are, by the fact that he can see the beads of sweat on Damon’s throat, the vein on his neck as he sings. 

Calum’s eyes, like they’re magnets and Michael’s fucking north, immediately find Michael, who’s staring down at his guitar and nodding along to the song - something about there being no other way, if Calum’s making out the lyrics blasting out from the speakers correctly. It’s sort of catchy, but they’ve come in towards the end and it’s winding down, and it’s only about twenty seconds before the final chord rings out and Damon stands back, breathing heavily. 

“Is there anyone who’s French out there?” he asks, as the other guitarist - Graham, Calum thinks idly, as some of the crowd cheer - plucks out a few random notes. 

“Really?” Damon says, sounding surprised. “How many, put your hands up, let’s have a look.” He pauses. “How many Germans? Oh, that’s too many French. I don’t believe you.” He pulls the mic off the mic stand and looks down at his feet. “Okay, well. This is for you. Mon amis.” 

A synth and drums start up, something slower than the last song, and Graham and Michael start playing chords on an offbeat and an on-beat. Calum watches Michael, bathed in the soft disco-ball light they’ve got going on at the moment, fingers moving lazily across the fretboard, and his heart aches. He remembers Michael struggling to switch from a C to a G back in the music room at school, remembers how he had to show Michael where to place his fingers for an E at least six times before he got it, and now Michael’s here, playing the fucking NME stage at Glastonbury like it’s nothing. 

He’s not even listening to what Damon’s singing, too focused on the little crease between Michael’s brows as he nods along to the song, until Michael looks up for the first time, and looks straight at Calum. 

Calum knows Michael’s looking at him, no one else, from  the way he freezes, by the way his shoulders tense and his eyes widen and his lips part a little. It’d be easy for him to pretend that he hasn’t seen him, for him to look away and scan the rest of the crowd, but he doesn’t. His eyes stay fixed on Calum, half in shock, half in something that looks like grim determination, Damon’s voice providing the soundtrack to accompany Calum’s racing heart. 

“Well, you and I, collapsed in love,” Damon sings. “And it looks like we might have made it; yes, it looks like we made it to the end.” 

Calum’s stomach drops. 

That’s about him. He knows it is, can’t put his finger on why but he knows it, and he knows when Michael sees that Calum’s realised it because he blinks, slow and sad, but doesn’t stop looking at Calum. 

“What happened to us?” Damon asks, but it’s Michael’s words. “Soon it will be gone forever.” Calum can’t make out the next two lines, but it doesn’t matter, because he can see Michael swallow, can see the way his left hand is clenching the fretboard far too tightly, and knows it’s because of him. 

“Well, you and I, collapsed in love,” Damon repeats, and the crowd sings along with him, and Calum’s heart feels like it’s going to splinter when Michael shifts a little, takes a step to the left, but his eyes don’t leave Calum’s. This is for you, he’s saying. This is for us.  

Some kind of string instrument is playing in the background, and Damon sits himself down at a piano and plays something that Calum can’t even make out, and Calum can tell the song’s coming to an end but he doesn’t want it to, doesn’t want the moment to be broken. Damon stands back up again, grabs the mic, and heads back to the front of the stage, pulling on the wire so he doesn’t trip over it. 

“Well, you and I,” he sings again. “Collapsed in love. And it looks like we might have made it; yes it looks like we made it to the end.” He lingers on the final note, and the strings swell, and Calum knows he’s only got a few seconds of Michael left, of having Michael to himself in front of thousands and thousands of people. He blinks up at him, wonders whether Michael can see whatever tangled web of emotions he’s feeling reflected in his eyes - regret, maybe, grief,  definitely, yearning, possibly. 

Michael’s still playing, those off- and on-beat chords, and the dim lights on the stage fade out, leaving Calum to gaze at Michael silhouetted in only the disco-ball lights. He can’t see Michael’s face anymore but can still feel Michael’s eyes on him, locked with his own, and just before the song finishes, just as they start to slow down and head into the final bar, a light crosses Michael’s face for the briefest of moments and Michael, eyes on Calum, offers him a tiny, sad smile. 

The song finishes, and the crowd cheer, and Michael takes a few steps back on the stage, bending down to pick something up, and then they’re heading into the next song, an upbeat, guitar-heavy track that has everyone jumping up and down except Calum and Liam. 

“This is fucking shite,” Liam shouts halfway through the song, sounding annoyed, like the fact that Blur’s music isn’t to his taste is a personal attack. 

“Yeah,” Calum says, a little dazed.

“ This is our competition?” Liam’s got his arms folded, beer resting on his elbow. “There’s not even a fucking competition. We’re fucking rock ‘n’ roll, we are. What the fuck is this wank?” 

“Dunno,” Calum says. Liam scoffs. 

“Pricks,” he says derisively, and turns to Calum. “‘S not even fucking worth heckling. Let’s just fucking go.” Calum nods numbly, and Liam starts shouldering through the crowd again, shoving two of his fingers up at anyone who dares call him a cunt for doing so. 

A third song’s started by the time they get to the back of the crowd and manage to slip out and get to the path leading back in the direction of the artists’ tent, and Liam scoffs again as he takes a long swig of his beer. 

“ Parklife ,” he says mockingly, along with the crowd, and shakes his head. “Fucking insulting, that is, that we’re being pitted against them. How the fuck are they rock ‘n’ roll, eh? How the fuck?” Calum just shrugs, scuffing his shoes against the dirt path. 

“What was that with you and Mike, then?” Liam says, almost conversationally, as they turn the corner. Calum’s head shoots up to look at him. 

“What was what?” he says, too quickly, and curses inwardly, because he’s given himself away. 

“That,” Liam says knowingly. “Fucking staring at you for the whole song, he was.” Calum looks back down at his feet, steadfastly counting the number of times his laces criss-cross on his shoes. 

“Damon came and talked to me earlier,” he mutters, because he hasn’t had a chance to tell any of them yet. Or, he has, but drowning his feelings had felt more urgent, and he didn’t want to mention Michael’s name to Noel when he looked to be in such a good mood. 

“What the fuck?” Liam demands. “I’ll fucking deck him, I will.” The ghost of a smile crosses Calum’s lips. 

“You don’t even know what he said,” he says, but something warm is spreading through his lungs at the fact that Liam’s that willing to defend his honour. 

“Don’t fucking care,” Liam growls. “Been fucking gagging for a chance to deck him. Fucking posh prick.” Well. Maybe defending Calum's honour is at least amongst the reasons for that.

“Just wanted to talk about Michael,” Calum says. 

“Cunt,” Liam says venomously. “Why?” 

“I don’t know,” Calum admits. “Said he wanted to hear my side of the story.”

“What the fuck for?” Liam says. “I don’t fucking care what Mike has to say, do I?” Calum shrugs again. 

“He wanted to know how long I’d known about Michael,” he says. 

“Did he say how long Michael’s known?” Calum hesitates. 

“A year,” he mumbles. 

“A year? ” Liam says, sounding outraged. “A fucking year? And he never fucking told them?” Calum shakes his head, and Liam makes a scornful noise. “Fucking wanker.” 

“Yeah,” Calum says, trying to quash the guilt that rises in his chest and tells him you might not have told them, either. 

“Why the fuck was he eyeing you up that whole song, then?” Liam asks. Calum swallows. You know where my loyalties lie, he’d told Noel, and he’d meant it. Oasis are his band, Noel and Liam are his best friends, and Michael’s a part of his past. It doesn’t matter that his heart might still be seventeen years old; he’s got to be here, in 1994, not 1989. 

“It’s about me,” he says. Liam stops. 

“What’s about you?” 

“That song. That’s why he was looking at me.” It’s dark, and Calum can’t see Liam all that clearly, but he can make out the way his lips twist in a thin line. 

“How d’you know?” 

“Just do.” 

“Well,” Liam says, slinging an arm around Calum’s shoulders and pulling him in possessively. “You’ve got us. We’re not going to fucking let that bastard do anything to you.” 

Privately, Calum thinks he might actually want Michael to do something to him, but he just forces a smile and wraps an arm around Liam’s waist as they head into the tent for a drink and maybe a few lines. God knows Calum fucking needs it. 

  -------

  At about two in the morning, off his head on coke and expensive beer, Liam decides it’d be a great idea to insult one of the singers in Chumbawamba, which leads to a scuffle that Liam’s all too happy to get in the middle of and ends up dragging Noel into too, leaving them both with bruises flowering high on their cheeks and tongues probing to make sure they’ve still got all their teeth. Neither of them seem to care that much, though, probably both too fucked to feel it, and Calum watches them get shepherded away to the medical tent by their manager Alan, swaying a little as they go. Bonehead’s long gone, disappeared with some pretty ginger woman on his arm, and Tony still hasn’t come back from his fucking jazz band, so Calum’s left on his own, sipping his beer and trying to make himself as invisible as possible in the corner so that bloody Thom Yorke won’t come and talk to him again. 

He gets through a few more pints, watching the crowd thin as the night wears on, before his bladder starts to kick up a real fuss at the amount of liquid he’s consumed in the past few hours and he slips off to the toilets. 

The door’s locked when he tries it, and he can hear two male voices inside but can’t make out what they’re saying, and decides it’s probably for the best that way. He takes a few steps back, just in case they start fucking or fighting or whatever the fuck it is they’re doing in there, because he doesn’t want to have to listen to that, and rests the back of his head against the wall, taking deep breaths as he realises that shit, he’s a lot fucking drunker than he thought he was. 

He lets his eyes flutter shut as the room starts to swim a little bit, making his stomach roll, and sags back against the wall, focusing on his breathing - seven in, eleven out, Liam always says to Noel when he’s having a bad trip, or maybe it’s eleven in, seven out? Fuck it, he can’t remember, but he’s breathing, and that’s probably what matters. 

He’s so focused on inhaling, exhaling, in, out, that he doesn’t hear someone come up behind him until they make a small noise of surprise, a tiny gasp, that makes him open his eyes. 

It’s Michael. 

“Oh, fuck,” Calum mutters, and squeezes his eyes shut again. Maybe Michael will be gone when he re-opens them. M aybe this is just a drug-and-lack-of-sleep-induced hallucination. 

Michael’s not gone when Calum opens his eyes. In fact, he’s a little clearer, not so fuzzy around the edges anymore. He’s standing about two feet away, face set in a mask of shock, staring at Calum like he can’t quite believe he’s there. Even in the dim light of the corridor Calum can make out the new lines on his face, concrete evidence of the years without Calum. He’s lived, breathed, aged without Calum, documented in the crow’s feet at his eyes, the way his laughter lines have deepened, and it makes Calum’s stomach lurch, makes bile rise in his throat to see the irrefutable evidence of a life Michael’s led without him. 

“You look old,” he blurts, without meaning to, and Michael blinks at him. There’s a moment of silence, a moment where Calum’s heart skids to the brink of shattering, thinking fuck, this is it, this is fucking it, and then Michael opens his mouth. 

“So do you,” he says, and Calum’s heart shudders to a halt, torn between taking that last step over the edge and giving out altogether. His voice is soft, a little tentative but with an edge of firmness that Calum’s not used to hearing from Michael, the same, familiar Australian accent now a little muted, diluted by southern English. 

They stare at each other for a moment, and Calum blinks hard, trying to focus his eyes and his mind and to wade through the mist of inebriation to find that little part of him that’s sober, the part that’ll tell him how to conduct himself in this first conversation with Michael since 1989 without embarrassing himself. Liam’s weed was a little too strong, though - or maybe it was the coke, because it definitely can’t have been the exorbitantly priced beers - because Calum’s mind stays firmly foggy, no rational thoughts getting through the mist of drugs. Tomorrow, he’ll blame the next words he says on that, he thinks vaguely, as they’re already tumbling off his tongue. 

“You knew,” he says, and it comes out as an accusation. Good, he thinks, a little venomously, a little dazedly. It is an accusation. 

“What?” Michael says, a little defensive. He knows what Calum’s talking about, but he doesn’t want to give it away. Well, Calum thinks spitefully, thank fuck him and his singer aren't on the same page about that.

“You knew,” Calum repeats. He sways a little on the spot, and puts a hand on the wall to steady himself. “Damon said. You knew.” Michael frowns, a little crease between his brows that Calum’s itching to reach up and trace with the pads of his fingers. He clenches his fist against the wall instead, and sees Michael’s eyes flit to it, and then back to his face. 

“Yeah,” Michael says, carefully even. “I knew.” 

“A year.” Calum just wants the confirmation. Say it, he thinks, just in case this brand new Michael’s developed telepathic abilities on top of his confidence and guitar skills. Say you didn’t want to talk to me. 

“Yeah.” Michael says it calmly, coolly, like Calum’s supposed to just take it and feel nothing. Maybe Michael feels nothing, Calum thinks wildly, and the thought almost makes him retch. 

“Why?” 

“Why d’you think?” Michael says. He folds his arms and stares at Calum, more confident than Calum’s ever seen him before, and it makes him feel small, pathetic, drunk.  

“Because I stopped writing.” Michael doesn’t say anything to that, but Calum sees the way his lips twitch in a tiny grimace. 

“Stopped caring about me,” Michael says, and Calum realises it’s supposed to be a correction. 

“No,” he says.

“No?” 

“No.”  

“Did a pretty convincing job of acting like you did.” Michael’s tone is all hard now, diamonds and steel, and it makes Calum flinch a little. Or maybe his words do, Calum’s not quite sure. Or maybe it’s just Michael. 

“Well. Thought I did,” Calum admits, because in fairness, he had. He hadn’t thought about Michael in years, really, had been too busy or too high to let any thoughts of Australia cross his mind, and that had sort of equated to well, I guess I don't care that much anymore, then.

But the fucking state of him now, and the state of him the past three months, should be all the proof Michael could ever want. 

“Right.” Michael’s not convinced. Calum tries a different tack. 

“Who the fuck is Mike?” he says. It makes sense in his head, he thinks, a little drunkenly. I know you, he’s trying to say. Are you still there?

“I am.” 

“You hate being called Mike.” 

“I’m not seventeen anymore.” Michael holds Calum’s gaze with his own hard stare, face carefully blank and guarded, and Calum feels something simultaneously bitter and delicious unfurling in his stomach. He’s not quite sure what Michael’s trying to say with that - I’m not yours anymore, maybe. Calum’s glad he’s drunk enough to pretend he can’t hear it. 

“Why the fuck were you talking to Damon?” Michael asks after a minute, and his tone is still even and calm but he’s given himself away with the question. He doesn’t want Calum to talk to Damon, and he wants to know what was said, and Calum’s stomach flips as he thinks that’s something. There’s a reason he doesn’t want me to talk to Damon. I've just got to find out what that reason is. 

“He talked to me,” Calum says. 

“Why?” 

“Ask him.” Michael’s eyes narrow, but Calum doesn't tear his eyes away, brown searching green. It’s unnerving, he thinks, not to know what’s going on in Michael’s head. It’s unnerving not to know Michael anymore, jars with something deep in his soul, like he should always know Michael and it's wrong like this. 

“Your bandmates are cunts,” Michael says, like he’s testing the waters. “The brothers.” 

“Yeah.” Both pride and guilt swell in Calum’s chest - pride, because those are his fucking best friends, and guilt, because he shouldn’t be talking to Michael. You know where my loyalties lie, he’d said. And they are with his band; he hadn’t been lying, but his loyalties are hidden somewhere in the murky depths of regret and love and unfinished business right now. 

“You don’t care?” 

“They’re my best friends.” Michael raises an eyebrow. 

“For now.” The implication rings loud and clear between them - yeah, until you drop them, just like you dropped me.  

“I’m not seventeen anymore either,” Calum says. I’m better now.  

“Good.” 

They stand in silence for a moment, and Calum shifts his weight from one foot to the other, trying to find a position that he doesn’t feel dizzy and light-headed in, but to no avail. 

“You look drunk,” Michael says. “Thanks,” Calum says, like he doesn’t want to cry. God, he’s too fucking high for this. “I am.” Michael hums, green eyes flitting from Calum’s face to his chest and arms and back again. It’s no different to how girls look at him, how boys look at him - how Noel looks at him, sometimes - but under Michael’s gaze he feels like he’s burning up, like he’s suddenly ten times drunker than he actually is. 

“I liked your set today,” Michael says lowly, like he shouldn’t be saying it. Calum blinks at him. 

“You weren’t there,” he says stupidly. Michael frowns.

“I was,” he says. 

“I didn’t see you,” Calum says, and then feels his eyes widen, because shit. He’s essentially just told Michael he was looking for him. 

“Oh,” Michael says, sounding distant, and Calum thinks he might be sick because Michael knows, knows Calum wanted him to be there. Fuck. Fuck.  

He closes his eyes again, breathes in deeply again, tries to focus on something - anything - that isn’t his churning stomach. 

“Are you alright?” Michael asks, sounding a little curious and a little concerned. 

“Yeah,” Calum manages to get out. 

“You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“Might be.” 

“Oh.” 

Calum sinks to the floor, thinking somewhere in the depths of his mind that sitting on the ground and not throwing up on Michael is better than staying standing but throwing up on Michael, and tries to even out his shaky breathing. In, out, Liam always says, in, out. That’s all you need to do. 

“D’you want some water?” he hears, soft and hesitant, and he cracks open one eye to see Michael crouching at eye-level, looking a little worried and a lot pained, like he doesn’t want to be letting his guard down but just can’t help himself. It makes Calum’s stomach flip, but not unpleasantly. It counterbalances the nausea still swirling in his stomach and throat, settles it a little bit. Fucking typical that Michael's both the poison and the antidote.

“D’you have any?” Calum says, and Michael shakes his head. Calum can’t help the slightly hysterical laugh that bubbles out of him at that, and he puts his head in his hands. 

“What the fuck is this?” he mutters into his fingers, more to himself than to Michael, but he hears a small sigh from his left and knows Michael’s heard anyway. There’s a rustling sound, and then a thump, and Calum’s eyes fly open to see Michael sat next to him, cross-legged, looking a little sad. 

“Water never helped you anyway,” he says, which isn’t at all an answer to what Calum’s just said, but it is, at the same time. I remember you, is what he’s really saying. I remember us. It's a concession, giving Calum something in return for the I was looking for you that his tongue had torn from his heart and offered to Michael. Calum thinks that probably means something, that Michael's admitting he remembers Calum like that, but he's too fucking drunk and high to work it out. 

The words hang between them for a moment, and Calum’s stomach settles a little, and his vision sharpens again. He tries not to think about the fact that Michael's admission  is responsible for the fact that he can focus on Michael now, can see every crease in Michael’s brow, every lash on his eyes, every freckle on his skin. 

“You’re still pretty,” Calum says without thinking, and Michael sits back on his heels, huffing out a laugh that sounds a little surprised. 

“Cheers, mate,” he says, tone unreadable, and stands up again. Calum’s eyes follow him as he goes, tilting his head up to keep his gaze trained on Michael, and Michael stares down at him, making Calum’s heart flutter strangely in his chest as a memory of the last time Michael had been staring down at him from that angle flashes in his mind. He can see it cross Michael’s mind too from the way his lips twist a little, but then it’s gone, and he’s just blinking down at Calum, and holding out a hand. 

Calum looks at it for a moment, looks at the soft, pale skin that doesn’t look at all like it belongs to a fucking guitarist, before his brain registers what Michael’s offering and he reaches out himself with cold, clammy fingers, wrapping his hand around Michael’s. Michael pulls and Calum lets himself be pulled, stumbling to his feet and trying his best not to think about the way Michael’s hand feels against his, like it’s fucking made for him. 

Calum sways for a moment, the room spinning, and he lets go of Michael’s hand to steady himself against the wall, blinking like it’s going to clear his vision. After a few deep breaths, though, it slows down, and Calum feels safe enough to chance looking over at Michael again. He’s still looking at Calum, and now that Calum’s feeling less woozy he can see the glaze of alcohol over his eyes, the glassiness of them, and it makes him feel somewhat more secure. Maybe Michael won’t remember this tomorrow, he thinks, pretending not to notice the edge of wild desperation to the thought. 

They stand in awkward silence for a minute, and then Calum can’t take it anymore, bangs on the door of the toilet, because who the fuck is spending that long in there? 

“Piss off!” he hears someone - Liam, even his drink-and-drug-addled mind can tell - yell. “Some of us are taking fucking drugs in here.” 

“Without me?” Calum yells back. 

“Yeah, fuck off,” Liam shouts, but two seconds later the door clicks open and Liam’s face appears, eyes hooded and pupils blown. 

“Thought you were with the paramedics,” Calum says. Liam blinks at him, and then a second face appears, craning to see over Liam’s shoulder. Noel. 

“We were,” Noel says, grinning toothily. “And now we’re not.” Fucking hell, wasn’t Alan supposed to be keeping an eye on them? Maybe they should have hired a teetotal manager. 

“Well, fucking let me piss, then,” Calum says, making for the door, and Liam steps aside obediently but Noel blocks his path. 

“Give us a kiss,” he says. Calum scoffs, trying to disguise the way his heart’s plummeting, because he can see out of the corner of his eye that Michael’s still fucking there, still standing a few feet away, a little in the shadows, sober enough to realise that making the Gallaghers aware of his presence wouldn’t be a good move. 

“Fuck off,” he says, and tries to shoulder past Noel. The bastard’s stronger than he looks, though, one hand on each side of the doorframe to steady himself. 

“I’ll let you in when you give us a kiss,” he says. 

“I’ll fucking piss on you if you don’t let me in,” Calum counters. Noel just cackles. 

“Don’t you want to kiss your favourite bandmate?” he says, eyes glittering with mirth. Calum scowls at him. 

“Liam, give us a kiss,” he calls. Noel laughs again, bright-eyed and happy, and Liam waltzes over to the door, staggering a little, and presses an exaggerated, sloppy kiss to Calum’s lips. 

“Now let him in, eh?” Liam says imperiously, turning to Noel, and Noel rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning as he steps away from the door. Calum almost trips over himself in his haste to get to the urinal, but, even in his desperate and inebriated state, he can’t help shooting one last look over his shoulder at Michael. He still can’t make his face out, can’t see what he’s thinking, but he hopes that maybe Michael can see what’s going through Calum’s head - sorry, sorry, sorry, even if Calum’s not quite sure what he’s sorry for; the conversation, kissing Liam, the fact he’s getting to piss and Michael isn’t, or everything else. 

“What’s up with you, then?” Noel asks curiously, as Calum rests his forehead against the cool tiles behind the urinal, exhaling shakily. 

“Just drunk,” Calum mutters, closing his eyes. 

“Drunk?” Noel says, a little incredulously. “Off the fucking water they sell here? You'd need about fifty pints. Must be fucking broke, you.” Calum shrugs. 

“Nah,” he hears Liam say from behind him. “‘S the fucking coke, innit? Told you that was quality, didn’t I?” Noel scoffs.

“You wouldn’t know quality coke if it bit you in the arse,” he says derisively. “You’d snort fucking anything.” 

“Aye,” Liam says, “that’s why I know that was quality, that.” 

Calum’s glad for it when they start bickering, voices rising as they start arguing in earnest, because it covers up his unsteady breathing, the way he’s still having to fight back the urge to retch. 

(Privately, he thinks it was neither the coke nor the beer nor even the weed that did it, but Michael.)

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chapter four

[catchmytearspls]

feelings

so this is going to be a long ass rant so trigger warning

if u hate talking ab ur feelings or etc leave

anyways,

so i recently just started thinking ab my past traumas. like the fact tht i went thru a lot of these fucked up experiences. like for example, i was never told i was beautiful when i was growing up. or even told i was doing great or awesome. not even from my family. it always made me feel like i wasn’t good enough, or strong enough. when i was thinking ab this i thought to myself “hey! this is sooooo- toxic asl!” no wonder why i am the way i am. no wonder i leave ppl on read or panic too soon when ppl show me love & affection. if ur still not understanding the bigger picture??? babe, so what i am saying is tht it was normal to be a robot w my emotions, to hide & conceal those weird mushy feelings. pretend to be reg on the outside & act like nothing was really happening. not to blame my parents cus i love them they raised me to go after what i want but they kinda acted like nothing was really going on they just lived like this “let’s pretend our life is PERFECT!”  

don’t get me started on the fact tht when i was growing up ppl always made fun of how i looked all the time, it really fucked w me mentally. i was always striving to be PERFECT for others. i woke up everyday trying my best to make others happy tht didn’t give two shits ab me. complaining ab my outfits, my voice, my face (acne), my material items, & worst of them all my personality. something tht i cherished the most in my life, it was my safe place. i felt a lil normal being myself and not having to look over my shoulder to someone laughing or complaining ab me. so i closed myself up and acted less, dressed less, and kept becoming something less than myself. 

but from all these traumas, from being shut out, my mom not completely accepting me for being gay, my dad leaving, being sexually touch at a young age, always told i wasn’t good enough, always told i’m ugly, and being the last tht is always thought ab i truly try everyday to love myself even tho no one absolutely cares

i’m 21 years old today, i have acne scars tht are fading away slowly (cus i am doing treatments), building a strong relationship with God (he truly is showing me to love myself, and he is helping me to go back into these traumas to learn ab them & why they happened. it’s helping me to become a stronger person), back in school, have an amazing job tht pays well, and truly happily single. learning to love myself every SINGLE day 

[lannee]

even my phone misses your call (by the way) - part 2

jo yeong x koo seo ryeong fanfic

AO3: link

Before he realized that he was actually doing what he was doing, Yeong was already in his car driving slightly above the speed limit. It took him approximately 2 minutes to get dressed but 20 to get pass the palace’s security checkpoint. The guards were all puzzled to see him driving through the gate when it was almost 3 AM. One way or another that would eventually end up in a report and he’d never see the end of Gon’s interrogation.

On the way to the bar, he started questioning his recent choices in life. What did he do to let Koo Seo Ryeong think that she could call him whenever she wanted, not to mention way too late at night, and somehow he would magically drop everything and run straight to her? It was the final exam week, he drank about 6 cans of Red Bull that night and had nothing but books and essays and group projects spreading on his table. But after hearing her broken tone on the phone and men’s voices in the background, he got up to get dressed and hurriedly grabbed his keys. As bizarre as it sounded, it turned out he would run to her, wherever the hell she could be, without any question.

The air felt thick and his heart beat rapidly. Through the glass door, he saw her sitting alone, white shirt and faded skinny jeans, head propping on her hand, whiskey bottle almost empty. When he came closer and tilted her face to look at her eyes, they were glassy like she was about to cry and for a second he hated himself for not driving faster.

“Ohh... so you really came!”, she sounded surprised and louder than normal.

“Do I have any other choice, noona?”, he had to hold her shoulders in place and her body felt like liquid ready to splash on the floor.

With all the men around staring at them, he wanted nothing more than to get her out of this place. What was on her mind when she decided to come here alone? He was angry at her for the very first time since they met. He was also extremely tired from lack of sleep. He wondered had he treated her better instead of acting distanced, would she ever think about calling him for late night drinks and getting drunk with only him around?

When her face was on the nape of his neck and her nose touching his bare skin, he wanted to tell her to stop making things harder than they already were. But she was blind drunk and fragile in his arms. He would stand there like that forever if she asked him to.

The first sign of relief came when he finally managed to put her safely in his car. It did not help how needy she was, holding onto him like a child and touching his hair constantly. How could he continue being angry at her when she was this adorable? There was a small smile on his face when he started the engine. She would be the death of him, and he knew it.

He thought Seo Ryeong already fell asleep when suddenly she started saying, “It’s tiring, isn’t it? It’s tiring being my friends, right? We are friends, right?”

Yeong looked at her for a second and kind of contemplated her questions. She would probably never recall this conversation anyway, “Of course we are. And yeah, it’s quite tiring.”

It was tiring to see someone almost every day and have to witness that person caring about someone else.

“I knew it. You hate me sticking to you and Gon like glue.”, she pouted.

“I never hate you noona. We’re almost there.”, he signed again.

He found the key to her apartment inside her bag. Months ago she jokingly asked them to come by her place to study. Gon actually considered the invitation, but Head Court Lady Noh never let them wander to this side of the city. Seo Ryeong’s place was small but cosy. She had things that if he saw them somewhere else, he would buy them for her because they were totally her style. The first thing she did was running to the bathroom and he had to hold her long hair while she dumbed whatever she could from her stomach. Afterwards he poured her a warm glass of water, helped her to bed and put pillows behind so she could sleep on her side.

He watched her laying under the blanket peacefully for a few minutes.

“Thank you, Yeong-ah... but don’t stay.”, she said, eyes still closing.

He looked at her small face with rosy cheeks and wished they had the kind of relationships that allowed him to kiss her forehead.

“It’s late.”, she said again like she was dreaming.

“Okay. Sleep well, noona.”

He ran to the CU next door to buy a bottle of hangover cure and put it on her table before he left. Sitting inside his car, he felt drained. Maybe it was not a good idea to drive in his current state. Then he remembered he had to do a presentation in 5 hours.

But first, he needed to go back and get rid of her sweet scent on his skin.

___

It was pass 9 PM on a day in early July when Yeong got a call from Gon asking him to go to the funeral of Seo Ryeong’s father on his behalf.

The heat of the summer even at night made it unbearable to wear the suit. He walked inside the funeral home with a heavy heart and it saddened him to see her looking gaunt and helpless. Her mother was on the floor bawling her eyes out while Seo Ryeong stood by bowing to the guests with no emotion in her eyes. Her father was there, healthy and proud, at her graduation 3 weeks ago and yesterday he was hit by a car on the way to work.

Yeong texted her everyday after the funeral, mostly to tell her random things that he did recently. Some days she replied, other times she did not. When the month coming to an end he finally called her after not receiving any text for days. She did not answer his call. He tried again twice before deciding to send her a text.

_ i’m on my way to your place

are you there?

_ why do you want to come to my place?

_ so you only text now, huh?

_ i’m at the playground

_ the one next to the East campus?

okay stay there

There were dark clouds floating angrily in the sky. When he arrived and saw Seo Ryeong standing near the green elephant slide, the rain started to pour down heavily. He brought with him his umbrella and sprinted across the playground to where she was. Droplets of water ran through her hair and she had a cigarette dangling on her lips. While holding out the umbrella, his other hand touched her right wrist softly. Then it traced along until he reached her shoulder. He could feel her body trembling, and it broke his heart a bit. By the time his hand caught her cigarette and took it away, she bursted out into tears. He knew the last thing she wanted to hear at that moment was him asking whether she was alright. So he just stood there, buried his hand into her wet hair, holding her while the rain poured down around their tiny umbrella.

“I thought... I thought moving out to live alone... would help me focus better on my study, you know? But I could just stay with my parents... I didn’t spend much time with dad... for years... what’s wrong with me?”, she sobbed into his chest and tried to talk over the sound of the rain.

“I’m sorry, noona... I’m sorry.”, he wanted to say Everything will be alright, but he did not know that. He could not promise her something he was not sure of himself.

The summer rain did not look like it would stop anytime soon. He let her cry it all out until she was quiet. Then he held her hand tight as they walked towards his car.

“I’m moving back to live with my mom next week.”, she said after they sat in complete silence for awhile.

“That’s good. Let me know if you need any help with the moving.”, he offered.

She avoided his eyes, looking at the falling raindrops through the window, “Do you want to stay over at my place tonight?”

He thought he heard it wrong, so he stared at her until she looked back at him. It was strange to see this side of her, tired and full of pain. So he nodded, because it must be established between them by then that he would never say no to her.

The drive felt long for some reason. They stood awkwardly next to each other in the elevator. Water dripped from his umbrella to the floor. His back stuck to the door after she let him in. All of the sudden he did not know how to move, what to say, as if his hands and mouth decided to leave him on his own to deal with this situation. When she said they should take a bath together, he almost asked her if this was some kind of parallel universes. He was supposed to be in a daze by now but because it was Koo Seo Ryeong, who was always straightforward to a fault, it did not affect him as much as he thought it should.

There were some oversized workout clothes she thought would fit him, so she disappeared to her bedroom to find them. Still trying to process what was about to happen, Yeong made an effort to move his feet and started preparing the bath. He let her get in first, and she followed his eyes when he descended his naked body into the warm water across from her. There seemed to be a silent competition where they tried to see who would blush and get embarrassed about this whole thing first. But Seo Ryeong remained calm, as if all she cared about was getting a decent wash-up and he just happened to share the same bath with her to save water. He did not blush. He rested his elbows comfortably on the tub and looked at her porcelain skin. There was not much space to prevent their legs from touching, and she knew it. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, with those sad eyes and cracked lips. Hair tangled and chest heaving. The things he felt for her these past two years overflowed from deep inside and threatened to eat him up. He hoped she knew it too.

When he broke out of his territory to reach her lips, she did not protest. He melted into the kiss and finally confronted the possibility that maybe she was not even real. She kissed him back fervently and he was stunned by the power that she had over him.

She let him carry her to bed. Her body soft under his touch. His wet hair clutched around her fingers. Their uneven breathing mixed with the sticky air in the room. If loving was this hard, he might not see another day. He might not make it without her for rest of his insignificant existence.

.

.

.

just watched ep7 and finally accepted the fact that KES would never let this couple be canon. i think i'll be fine and continue writing this fic to fulfill my fantasy lol. shipping a doomed ship is so hard. thank you all so much for your kind words for the first chapter. maybe i'll post something new (with both of their POVs?) next week. stay safe everyone and please tell me what you think!

[the-lupine-sojourner]

I Promised, Didn’t I? [Traitor(?)!Reader/Izuku Commission] [Fantasy!AU]

Ta-da! Here it is at long last, @elite-guard-hardygal​!! So sorry to keep you waiting so long! TT^TT

Anyway, Hardygal commissioned this fanfiction based on some ideas they had and the song ‘Not while I’m Around’ from the Sweeny Todd movie. I like the song and the idea behind the commission, so I was eager to get to work on it, but then I got distracted with work and Miraculous Ladybug cus I was too curious as to what was going on so I binged the latest episodes--anyway, on to the commission! 

If you want one for yourself, all you need do is ask! Here’s Info on My Commissions. 

As always, I give the word count for my commissions. This one sits at 3807-ish cus there was just so much story there, I couldn’t stop writing! XD 

Ok, that’s all for now! Hope you all had an amazing Thanksgiving! :)

God Bless and Happy Holidays!

~The Lupine Sojourner

(Here’s a cute Izuku GiF cus why not?)

There he was; Eijiro Kirishima, the one you’d been sent to observe and eventually turn over to your boss, Kai Chisaki. 

He and his group were...less than thrilled that a rogue barbarian king named Katsuki Bakugo and his companion, Eijiro, and their group of friends had been taking down his thugs and operations left and right, and as such Kai himself had sat you down and told you about sending his stealthier cronies to track and observe Eijiro and his friends, taking note of their relationships and which member would cause the most damage if they were to be...removed. 

Eijiro was, apparently, one of the most innocent and a key player in keeping another group, led by Izuku Midoriya (another target, turns out), in fairly good terms with each other.

Eijiro was also married, after a somewhat fast-paced romance, to one of the most powerful magic-wielding adventurers in recent memory, Takara Yamada. 

Only Shoto Todoroki, a rather reserved fellow who ran from his princely duties to find a cure for a curse that befell him, his fiance and bodyguard, Momo Yaoyorozu, and Izuku Midoriya (who was trying to find the missing king, Toshinori Yagi) could best Takara in terms of power and the way they use it. 

The Chisaki told you to help hunt down Eijiro to unbalance Takara and the other powerhouses so it would be easier to kill them. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

You look up. You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts you hadn’t realized you were standing in the middle of the street, staring into space. 

“Oh, y-yeah. I’m fairly new to the area, and was just getting my bearings. I look like that when I’m concentrating.” 

Eijiro smiles. “Well, um, do you have a place to stay tonight?” He asks. 

You chuckle. “Yes. The tavern, for now.” 

“You should stay with me and my wife instead! She’d love you!” You act like you were surprised, but thanks to Chisaki you knew this was typical for Eijiro. 

He always strove to help those he could. Poor naive boy.

Well, it would provide you an in with your targets. “Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that. Really, I’m fine. I’m asking around for jobs, and I’ve got plenty of money to last me till I got a steady job.” 

“It’s honestly no trouble. Takara would love to meet you.” You act like you were flattered and shyly accepting of the generous offer, and you could genuinely appreciate what this meant to him and his new wife. 

Chisaki had even told you of rumors about Takara and what would happen in around 6 months. 

You hope that rumor wasn’t true. You’d hate to make a child an orphan like you were before Chisaki snapped you up. 

“Oh! I just realized; I don’t know your name.” 

“Oh you’re right! And I don’t know yours, come to think of it.” You give the name you were told to use, Koi Dirisk. 

“Lovely name. I’m Eijiro Kirishima.” 

“Pleasure.” You shake hands and try not to think of the future too much.

=#=#=#=#=

“Darling, I’m home!” Eijiro calls, smiling broadly as he walks into the house. 

“Perfect time! That deer you got this morning is just about cooked.” Comes a female voice, approaching. 

Then, Takara comes into your view. She was...prettier than you thought she’d be. The description hadn’t done her justice, though you suppose that was either to avoid attachments or because the Chisaki were focused on the basics rather than her beauty. 

“Oh. Eijiro, you didn’t mention a friend.” She says and you can tell she’s surprised but not angry or about to throw you out. 

“She’s new to the area. Her name’s Koi. I offered to save her some money until she gets her feet under her.” Takara nods, smiling warmly at you and you feel your heart clench at the prospect of what will happen. You glance at her stomach as she walks over. It was starting to show, her pregnant belly. Just enough that you could confirm the rumors about Takara. 

“Well, alright. We’ll see what we can do.” The two of you shake hands and you almost feel sick at the thought of turning this young bride into a widow so soon after her nuptials. And the kid would grow up without their wonderful parents.

And yet, you had to do what Chisaki said, or you’d be the next victim of his awful magic, creating deadly spikes out of the ground or simply destroying the body from within. 

You’d been a witness in many executions now, and yet you hadn’t turned him in. You couldn’t. 

You subtly shake yourself as Takara offers to show you around and to your borrowed room. You had to play the part for now. 

The house was amazing, cozy and charming. The perfect place for a family, complete with a room for the upcoming child. 

As soon as the tour was over, Takara returned to the kitchen and finished the meal preparation. 

“So what brings you into town?” That question had come up fairly quickly as you ate dinner. 

“Ah you know; traveling the world, seeing the sights, getting some exploring done before it’s too late.” That was what Kai wanted you to say. You felt the food turn to dust and ashes in your mouth as you lied. 

This poor family would be torn apart and they had no idea. 

=#=#=#=#=

“You established contact with Kirishima?” 

“Yes.” You report in a small side room in a local tavern a day or so later. 

“Good. Does he trust you yet?” 

“Not sure. We’ve barely begun a friendship, much less trust at this stage. We’re going to do some magic practice later. That should help.” 

“Y/N, are you having second thoughts?” Kai asks suddenly, leaning over a little. 

“Not at all. I just noticed Takara Kirishima is in fact pregnant. She seems to be in the first trimester.” 

“Is that a problem?” You knew the right answer. 

“No. Just thought you should know.” 

“It’ll make it easier for us to take care of her when the time comes. Good work.” You nod, swallowing subtly. 

“Right. I’ll report to you again when I find the others in the group containing Izuku Midoriya.” Kai Chisaki nods, humming. 

“See that you do, Y/N.” 

“Yes, sir.” You reply, knowing the right answer.

=#=#=#=#=

Things only got worse as you were introduced to Izuku Midoriya. 

He was even dressed like a proper gentleman, acting so polite you felt your heart clench at having to look at him like an enemy, scanning for weakness. 

And so far, his main weakness was his easygoing, friendly, fairly trusting nature. Practically as soon as you were introduced to him, he was shaking your hand and talking about how ‘any friend of Eijiro and Takara’s is a friend of mine’. 

You wanted to throw up. How could these people trust you so easily? Didn’t they want to know more about you? 

So far, you’d been all but blindly taken in, asked the bare minimum of questions, and accepted as a new ally and friend by these people. 

You tried to just continue like nothing was wrong. 

=#=#=#=#=

“You sure know how to go on the offense there, Koi.” Izuku notes, smiling that damn warm smile of his as you two sparred. 

“Well, my instructor was a victim of assault. It made her paranoid, and she passed that on to me. She told me ‘end the fight before the tricks up their sleeves come out’.” 

Most of that was true. She was a victim of assault, but for being a villain, not in a random act of violence.

Izuku pauses. “That’s fair advice.” He concedes. “I wish I could help everyone, you know. It just doesn’t work that way sometimes.” 

“But when you see something, you do something, right?” 

“Of course.” 

“That’s all anyone can do, if they even decide to do anything.” You weren’t sure when you started getting emotional, but here you were. “Most people are too afraid.” 

“Well, yeah, but the ones that aren’t afraid can mean a life is saved and a villain is apprehended.” 

You weren’t sure, but you’d swear he was saying something between the lines. A subtle chill went down your spine. Did he know? Or was it just coincidence?

You couldn’t be sure, so you made a few solid excuses to avoid him for the next few days. You had to get your story straight in case you were questioned. 

Kai was pleased you were in contact with his next victim already, and had sparred with him. “Did he have any weaknesses in his fighting style that you noticed?” You shook your head. 

“Not many. He’s sharp as a sword and quick as a spooked rabbit. We’ll have to be quicker and hit harder.” 

“Excellent insight, as always, Y/N.” Kai smiles, curled finger lifting your chin to make you look at him. “You know you’re indispensable to me, dear. No one else has quite your ability to blend into any role I assign them.” 

You nod, forcing a smile. “I try, sir.”

“So get out there and keep trying.” You nod and leave, trying not to let your stormy emotions show. You were growing to hate this assignment with a fiery passion. 

You’d killed people and betrayed many others to their deaths, but never had you had to be a part of a man’s death with a pregnant wife. Normally, it was single people you dealt with. 

At night, you cried yourself to sleep as quietly as you could. Surely, there had to be some way to save Eijiro, Izuku, and their friends, right? 

You couldn’t think of anything and it was tearing you apart. You hated every mission you were sent on, but what choice did you have? Kai Chisaki had practically raised you, lording that over you to manipulate you into doing his bidding. 

Somehow, you had to save these people. 

Gods above, they were your age! How were you supposed to help kill them?! 

=#=#=#=#=

“Hey, are you okay?” Takara asks over breakfast. You probably looked like shit.

You spent too long crying and still looked like it. 

“Didn’t sleep much last night.” 

“Anything you care to talk about?” 

For a fleeting moment, you thought of saying ‘screw it’ and telling them the truth, but that was suicide and these people would die, anyway. “Not really. Sorry.” 

“No, that’s okay. It’s not easy opening up. I get it.” Takara assures you gently, smiling warmly at you. “Just know you got two ears whenever you need to talk to me, okay?” 

You fake a smile and continue eating. “I appreciate that.” Unfortunately, it didn’t spawn any plans to allow everyone in this scenario to survive. 

=#=#=#=#=

The cruelest part of Kai’s undercover assignments he gave you was the few weeks you were given to get to know the victims and earn enough of their trust that they’d follow you into the trap the Chisaki laid out for them. 

Usually, he talked you into hating the people by portraying himself as the victim, claiming these people betrayed him and left him no choice but to seek retribution. 

And you always took his side after all he’d done for you. 

But now...now you weren’t so sure.

How could killing people your age, who were just settling into life and starting families, be in any way a good thing, like Kai was claiming?

He’d just given you the week’s notice so you can get a plan for how and when you would lead the targets into a trap.

“Hey, are you okay?” Izuku asks, sitting beside you in the cool evening air atop a hill. About an hour ago, you’d probably have seen a gorgeous sunset if it weren’t for the tears going down your face. 

You subtly wipe them away. “Yeah. You?” He nods, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder. Your cheeks flush a little. Izuku was so...genuine and friendly. 

He didn’t deserve to die. 

“I think I am. Did you come up here to watch the sunset?” He asks, and you can tell he knew precisely why you were here.

“Something like that.” You reply glumly. You’d gotten closer to Izuku over the few weeks you’d known him, and you hated yourself for getting so caught up in the part you were playing that you could almost forget why you wore the mask. 

Almost. 

“You know, I’ve always liked taking moments to just sit and...be myself. Everyone looks to me as a leader and I hate to let people down.” 

You nod. “So you only let yourself feel things when you’re alone.” You murmur. 

Izuku squeezes your shoulder gently. 

“You can be yourself around me, you know that, right?” You bite your lip. 

“I know.” It was the right answer...right? 

Izuku leans his head on yours, and you lose your train of thought. 

“You ever feel like we were destined to meet?” He asks. “I mean--um...not necessarily romantically, just- -I- -ah, not that I am opposed to that, Koi! I just- -crap I made it weird…” You laugh. 

“Izuku, I feel the same.” It wasn’t destiny, though; it was Kai. However, you couldn’t deny a feeling that beyond Kai, like maybe there was something there. You two seemed like strings being woven together for a tapestry. 

“Oh, good.” He chuckles nervously as you readjust yourself against his strong chest. “What I was trying to say is, um…” He clears his throat, “nothing’s gonna harm you. Not while I’m around…” He sings softly all of a sudden. 

You sigh. Even his voice was amazing. Honestly, given time, you may have fallen truly in love with him, but...he was a target of the Chisaki. 

There’s no way he’d survive. 

“I’m sorry. It’s something my mother would sing to me when I was little.” He apologizes. “It was dumb, I’m sorry.” You chuckle. Maybe, just for one night, you could let go and truly enjoy yourself. You snuggle up to Izuku. 

“No, no. Go on. I’m sorry.” 

Izuku starts over, and continues from there. “Demons are prowling everywhere, nowadays. I’ll send em howling, I don’t care. I got ways.” You smile, almost believing him. If he somehow, by some miracle, survived the week, you could see yourself maybe giving him a shot, regardless of the consequences. “No one’s gonna hurt you, no one’s gonna dare. Others can desert you. Not to worry! Whistle, I’ll be there! Demons will charm you with a smile, for a while, but in time...” That, you felt, was Izuku talking like he knew about Kai and your undercover work. In case he didn’t, you snuggle closer as if charmed by his words. And you were, but you were also a little wary. If he knew, it might mean danger for you, especially if Kai found out. “Nothing can harm you. Not while I’m around…” 

You two sit for a moment in silence, enjoying each other’s company.

Your heart ached to tell him everything while part of you knew better so you sat there, wondering what to do. It’s then you reach a decision.

Izuku was one of the most powerful magic wielders to date. If anyone stood a chance at saving himself and his friends, it was Izuku. But only if he knew it was coming. 

“Hey, um, Izuku..?” You begin, wondering how he would react. As long as he survived, though, it didn’t matter what he thought of you. You could rebuild trust eventually, but only if he survived. “I don’t want anything to harm you, either. Not...not while I’m around.” You weren’t singing, you were looking him in the eye. You had to do this. You knew it was the right thing to do. “I- -”

“Whatever it is, Koi, you can talk to me. I want to help you. Just tell me what you need to overcome.” You take a breath. “Koi, I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.” 

He had no idea...no idea you were about to shatter his perception of you. 

“I don’t want to hide anything from you…” You began. “But this...this is big.” Izuku perks up now that he’d started to crack at the armor you put around your secrets. He let you talk, his eyes betraying his eagerness to know more. You closed your eyes. “I...when I was young, maybe 6 or so, my village was attacked and burned by a villain group that was trying to get themselves started. For days afterward, I wandered around, homeless and an orphan…” You were shaking. You had never ever confided in anyone like this, and yet...you knew you had to keep going. Izuku’s warm, steady hand on yours helped ground you. You opened your eyes focused them on him and somehow found the strength to keep going. “And then someone took me in. I didn’t know it at first, but he was a villain. He wasn’t famous yet, and he hadn’t done anything flashy or impressive, but his magic was devastatingly powerful and he had convinced many people to join him.” Izuku’s eyes go wide. 

He could fill in a few blanks just fine, but he kept his mouth shut, afraid Koi would stop talking if he dared utter a word. 

“He told me his name was Kai Chisaki and he wanted me to be his spy, his little chameleon. I’ve been sent on many assignments, I’ve done so many horrible things to people, but I always thought Kai was right. He always made me think it was the right thing to do.” Tears formed in your eyes. Izuku hadn’t said a word. You didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing but you kept going. “But this time, for the first time, he made me go undercover with people my age, just starting out in life. I...I’ve grown to like you all a lot, even that barbarian king. You all accepted me with hardly any questions and Takara’s pregnant, and...and I can’t keep going on like I don’t know what’s coming. I made up the story about King Toshinori, and about my eavesdropping on those villains. It was a cover so I could remain a chameleon without you and Eijiro and the others ever suspecting I was the leak. You’d be ambushed and dealt with quickly so you’d stop interfering with Kai’s plans.” 

You swallow. You’d done the hardest part, now you had convince him that you wanted to help him survive and protect him. “Now, I want to help you, Izuku! I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner! It’s just...Kai is terrifying! I know that’s no excuse, but…” You take a breath before you broke down in tears. “I don’t want the Chisaki to kill you or your friends. I...I want to protect you and make sure nothing harms you! I promise I’ll do my best to protect you and everyone else!” At this point, you couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. You tried not to be overdramatic, so you took deep breaths to steady yourself. “I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me, Izuku. Just know that I will protect you, no matter what. I’ll do what I can to make up for what I’ve done.” 

You stood there, trembling as you waited for his reaction. 

Izuku was stunned. He’d had had his suspicions about you from the time you avoided him for a few days. He checked on your excuses and they didn’t quite pan out, but he always thought maybe he was wrong. Now...he knew he was right. There was more to you then meets the eye. 

But at least you had come forward and confessed in time to ensure everyone survived. That was what was important. 

While he was hurt that you’d only joined his group as a ploy to kill him, he knew if he didn’t do something to make sure you knew he wouldn’t abandon you, he’d lose you and you’d think he hated you. 

And that wasn’t true at all. In fact, it was the opposite. He’d grown very fond of you and was proud that you were coming forward and warning him about the impending ambush. 

This way, he could be prepared and deal with the villains while still maintaining Koi- -or whatever your name was; Koi was likely a cover- -’s cover before you were found out and killed for your betrayal. Izuku knew Kai wouldn’t take kindly to his spy revealing herself to the enemy, much less getting so attached to them. 

“So...what’s your real name?” He asks, giving you a small smile. 

Your eyes go wide. You hadn’t expected that reaction at all.

Izuku didn’t seem to hate you for your role in Chisaki’s plan. At least, not right now. 

You wipe your eyes. “W-what?” 

“What’s your name?” He repeats, smiling at you. “I’m guessing Koi isn’t your real name.”

Hardly knowing how to feel, you let out a nervous chuckle. “N-no, it’s not. I’m, uh...Y/N.” You murmur, unsure how to take Izuku’s reaction. 

Izuku��s smile goes wider and he holds out a hand as he stands. “Well then, Y/N, we’ve got work to do if we’re gonna survive the attack from the Chisaki group. C’mon.” 

You hesitate, then take the hand, letting him help you up. “Izuku...I don’t know...I don’t want everyone to know and hate me.” 

“Trust me, they’ll be thrilled you joined our side against someone like Kai Chiaski and want to help them survive. Eijiro will side with you, I know it.” 

“Katsuki will kill me…” You moan, suddenly remembering the barbarian’s temper and explosive magic he could barely control. Those factors combined sent a chill down your spine. But maybe you deserved it for befriending them under such treacherous circumstances.

“I’ll handle Katsuki. He’ll be happy as long as he has villains to fight.” 

While you appreciate the thought of Izuku convincing Katsuki to not kill you, you knew it was a long shot at best.

“I’ll be one of those villains.” 

“No you won’t.” He assures you. “Y/N, trust me. I’ll talk to him. I know how to handle the barbarian king. You just need to talk to Todoroki and Momo, and we’ll get a plan together.” 

Shakily, you nod. “I...I guess, yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Nothing’s gonna harm you, Y/N.” Izuku says, leaning his forehead against yours. “Not while I’m around. I promised, didn’t I?” 

You try to believe him as you walk back into town, hand in hand. 

There were so many unknowns going through your head, but one thing was for sure; you and Izuku were going to figure it out together. 

[ts-2020-olympics]

EPISODE 5 - “https://streamable.com/2bc03” - Beck

So, I have a very good idea as to what happened. Karen thought they were the one to go with their score, and successfully convinced everyone else to get rid of me. Either to get the gold or to get rid of me, I'm not sure. But I'm on to them. Make no mistake.

Well, to recap past round, Ben ended up winning the gold medal and returning to the game, which I really appreciate, so he'll be immune next tribal he attends, which am sure he is happy with.   That led to Nik W being the next person eliminated.   Then, as well at the arena, Stoner won the silver medal for his tribe, I won the Bronze medal for my tribe, then Pete won nothing.   Today's immunity challenge was a maze, went into the maze thinking I should get a decent time, as I did mazes a bit as a kid, but then my dumb self didn't save the maze properly so had to redo it, then my internet decided to act up so had to refigure out lightshot which cost me more time.  So I ended up with a really rough score, thankfully the 40% bonus will help a little, but I just feel bad and embarrassed by the time I got, and feel like if my tribe loses, it's going to be because of me.   I can't even be too active tomorrow to discuss vote with people if my tribe loses as I am going back home tomorrow, which just makes matters even worse.   So, at the moment, I don't feel too hot, but at the same time, I shouldn't let one bad round set me back either.

first loss as a new tribe, rip. I don’t know how this vote may go because i’ve chatted and bonded with everyone on this tribe, well except kevin and kinda nicole, and no one is really sticking out like an asshole. The new mari-whatever tribe has been just chill vibes which is nice but makes strategy much harder cus like what if they’re all secretly just agreed in getting me out? Who knows. I did talk with Landen and we agreed we wanna work together, he threw out the idea that he may be leaning towards voting out an old Shosha member and he hasn’t talked with Kevin or Nicole at all. I’m talking to Eve, Sammy, and Jacob C as well, maybe we could be a voting block...? We’ll see. 

Sarah felt she’s in danger because of Billy trying to get her out last tribal. I can’t have Sarah out because her and I trust each other so then I think of this idea. Nik just got voted out, Billy is targeting Sarah now... what if I spread a rumor that Billy has a plan to pick off all the yujo members and has a hit list and is playing way too hard now? So basically i tell all my allies that eve and I are really scared because someone told us that Billy wants to pick off the yujo people for an easy vote these next few rounds in the hopes that people won’t trust him if he’s playing too hard like that and hopefully the word gets back to the sonkei tribe members. 

So we have a problem, Eve and I are sticking together as former yujo so we let each other know what the other person has found out. So anyways I talk with Landen for a little while, I trust him, and he proposes this plan to vote out a former Shosha tribe member which i’m not against. He says he’s talked a little with Sammy and Jacob C too. So I let Eve know and she says interestingly enough she’s been talking to Nicole and Nicole proposed that her, Eve, Kevin, and myself all vote together and Eve says maybe against Landen. Eve also let’s me know that Nicole and Jacob C are very very close. So now Eve and I are split, I want to vote with Landen and get a Shosha tribe member out, she doesn’t wanna go against Nicole and wants to vote Landen out. We’re kinda the swing vote here and I want us to make the right decision. 

tribal is getting closer and closer and nobody wants to make a decision! They’re ALL asking ME what to do which i guess is nice but i don’t want them all thinking of me as the decision maker this early. Right now it’s between landen or kevin going so i’m doing what i can to make sure everyone’s fine with writing Kevin’s name down. 

Let's make this quick because I am obviously stressed as fuck and I just had the most whack ass dream about this game. In it, half this cast got kicked out of the game for being minors and it was actually a Facebook game, then we appealed it and held a whole trial bc some chick compared us to South African famous wanted murderers and we were offended so we held a trial and won the appeal and all the minors got back in the game but then there was instant tribal council and it was a live tribal and we were all whispering to send home someone named Charlotte who isn't even in this cast I... Yeah. So  you can tell THAT'S how paranoid I am about this tribal council, my brain is driving me insane. We going in a million different directions!!! Anyway here's what happened last night. As SOON as I sent in my video confessional saying things are going to be fine, Pete messaged me (hilariously enough, he literally just messaged me with news AGAIN, but we'll get to that later.. it wasn't big enough to change the whole confessional) and said that things had blown up. Essentially what he told me was that Nicole is very close with Eve, but she's also very close with Jacob. Because of this those three kind of took control, and essentially Nicole wants to work with Eve/Pete/Kevin/Jacob. That would leave me and Sammy on the bottom. I knew as soon as I heard that, that Nicole's plan was to vote me out tonight. Jacob loves Sammy, so if they're working together closely, I'm the target, that much is obvious. So basically this entire day would be a race to make sure that we can sway Eve and/or Jacob and make sure the votes are on KEVIN, not on me. Because he doesn't talk to anyone. I gave my best pitch to Eve, but I don't think it worked that much, she doesn't like being in the middle. Nicole/Sammy/Jacob were all like "I'm at work" "i'm driving somewhere" "i'm at a party" lol we love excuses. I'm not buying your fake shit, you just don't want to talk to me. Notice how I said would be though.... Teehee! Well, turns out, I told Juls about all this madness, and my hero, the light of my life, has decided to help me out by giving me a Sit-out-at-tribal advantage! Not 100% sure how it works yet, I REALLY hope I get to make some dramatic play with it at tribal and actually talk about using it... But if not, I'm just glad for the safety. While I'm not 100% sure if it would be me or Kevin going home and if we could sway the votes, I'm not willing to risk my safety at the arena. It's just not going to happen. And I want to see how interesting things get when I return! So when it comes to this tribal, that's honestly my main plan. Sit out with Juls' advantage. Laugh as the fireworks play... Hope to GOD that Kevin, who probably gets sent home, dies in the Arena too. Gotta have faith he can be beat. I'm not amazing at challenges, good, but not confident enough that I'm willing to risk my spot in the Arena now that it's gotten down to all active people who are giving it their 100%. Notice how I said I'd make this quick but I didn't? Yeah this is a mess. So... tonight is going to be VERY. Very fun. You could even say it'll be a disaster..? For them, at least.

So, Darcy could prove to be a useful asset to bring close to the end. He voted for me last round, and he said he figured that'd reduce trust between us. Honestly, he's absolutely right, I want very little to do with him now, but I'm just "playing nice" until it's time to cut him out.

Billy is going. Kinda hope he comes back so we can win. Even if we don't it's nice to have an easy vote. I think I need to position myself just a little bit better here. Even if i'm not near the bottom, I need to act like it. I need to have chris and jordan's loyalty over emma. And Emma's over theirs. I need to be in the power position, without being viewed that way. Me not going on skype might help that perception. I'm good at these challenges, this one not included, so I should be solid going forward.

i’m playing a spreading info game.... is it gonna get me in trouble? maybe! it might! but it could also get me far so high risk high reward. please pray that the info i’m leaking doesn’t get tacked back to me

This first part of the game for me has been some of the worst gameplay that I've ever displayed. I've received votes every single tribal, I've made no strong connections, the only guy I trusted 100% got his ass voted out, and I'm sitting in the Arena for the second time. It makes you wonder how the fuck I do this shit without breaking down. Well, that's sort of what I did. I broke down after that tribal man, hard. I fkn hate getting emotional man but it felt like complete SHIT being alone and neglected. Truth is, every way I put it, even though I don't wanna admit it, I got no one but myself to blame. What I need in this game is a reset button. When I come back, and I WILL come back from that arena, I need to start a clean slate and get all that chaos the fuck outta there...for now. Fuck I need to win that arena. So bad. When I go back to Sonkei, Imma make sure that I'm the one on top. 

So for starters, my tribe won immunity the other day, so we got the tribal break we deserved!   Now, waiting on arena, where Juls from my tribe, Landen from Miraitowa, and Jordan from Sonkei are competing for Silver and Bronze, then Pete and Billy are competing for the gold.   In which, my ideal scenario is Billy winning the gold and coming back, as I feel like he could be a potential ally I could have come another swap or merge if him and I make it there together.  Then I'd want Juls to win the silver, since it'd be helpful for next challenge for yushu, then can potentially win another immunity!  Preferably in this scenario, Landen wins the Bronze, just so that one of the other tribes don't end up coming back with two medals.  Anyways, this game is fun, and I made final 19, now to see if I can find anything in Olympic Village this next round, as I have still yet to find something.

I'm going to go ahead and try to improve this situation slightly. I think I have the makings of a fantsatic position, it just needs to be perfect. Billy and Emma fighting at tribal while Chris was doing his own thing pretty much sums up everything I needed. I need either Chris or Jordan to be my new #1. Jordan appears to be a paranoid nut, Chris is the opposite. I tend to have greater successes with the paranoid nut, but who knows. They need to like me back, which is easier said than done. If Billy comes back we are likely winning the challenge. We won't of course, cause that's who we are, but who knows. My semester starts up tomorrow, which is going to harm my activity a tad, and I'm already not that active, but we'll see how that influences anything.

I DID IT I DID IT I FUCKING DID IT THEY ALL THOUGHT ID JUST BE A FORGETTABLE PREJURY BOOT ID SUCK AT ARENA AND BE DONE AND GUESS WHAT IVE NEVER DONE ANY SKYPE ORGS BEFORE AND I STILL FUCKING DID IT SCREW YOU JACOB C SCREW YOU SAMMY SCREW YOU NICOLE AND SCREW YOU KEVIN I AM HERE BECAUSE I FOUGHT FOR IT AND I FUCKING WANTED IT BAD AND I TOOK OUT BILLY TO BE HERE!!! HELL FUCKIN YEAH DUDE IM NOT PLAYING NICE WITH ANY OF THESE BITCHES ANYMORE 

I’ll do a video later. Billy got voted out which was unfortunate as I really like billy and vibe with him but it doesn’t make sense to flip when I think I’m in a good position right now. I had a good convo with Sarah, really vibe with her. I have my alliance with Jordan, Jacob, and Em which I feel good about they’re just real quiet. Need to talk to them more 1 on 1. I have my duo with Pines that I feel real confident about. I hope that’s not my downfall this game but I think pines and I are gonna do great things. 

https://streamable.com/2bc03 - pete wins the gold medal.mp4

Well baby dolls, basically eve tried to exclude me from an alliance but I beat that bitch to the punch! And my fearsome foursome played her like a fiddle while she thought I was going home unanimous in all actuality we had the upper hand and dropped the hammer on Pete 4-2, with Landen volunteering for the arena Eve was left to fend for herself for cute little 24 hours and chaos ensued when she realized what happened hopping between calls and chats to damage control for her lack of judgement in including me into things, therefore she feels on the outs and while I was a part of this scheme and to an extent playing a role of the victim who found solace in a group of three who wanted to vote for me, all of which is false, I’m still using these moments to rebuild a bridge I never knew got burned to ashes so she can potentially INCLUDE me in things going forward, after all we’re both out of the loop right? ;)

Tribal was quite spicy. Nobody reacted to Stoner rolling a blunt while em and billy were arguing and my soul left my body from trying not to laugh. Just found out Billy is not coming back, which honestly whew, because I feel like he'd come back with some vengeance. He's probably a good team player normally, but my only impression was..not great! Hopefully we can come together as a tribe now and aim to NOT go to tribal in the first place. Although I still feel like, entering into this new tribe, there are many, many layers. Salty, spicy layers. Like a delicious onion dip. 

Nicole, watch your ass. 

So let me backtrack to before tribal. You’re probably wondering how I got here! *record scratch* Anyway, so we constructed a tribe to have a 4-3 majority, and in doing that there was always going to come a day where when we lost we would have to choose who was going to go between Pete, Eve and Landen. I feel badly because, they’re newbies and obviously putting a reasonable effort into this game BUT, it’s the name of the game, if the returnees didn’t band together we were going to get picked off and have a hard time like Karen is on their tribe. Anyway, so the day comes and we have to go to tribal. NONE of the newbies talked to me about game before we lost. I need to point that out.  As soon as we lost Eve said “what the hell are we gonna do now”....m’am! WE? WHO’S WE? anyway, I played along and was just about to tell her we were going to vote out Pete when she says she was on a tribe with Pete and could make a good number for us. She says I can pull in Jacob...Jacob can pull in Sammy...hold on a minute. Are we leaving out Kevin? WHY DOES EVERYONE HATE KEVIN? This might as well be a Home Alone sequel because they’re leaving Kevin out of EVERYTHING! or at least that’s what I’m being told (more on that later). So I don’t want any weird advantages to get pulled out of anyone’s pocket at tribal and so I obviously go along with it, I say everyone is fine, Jacob will vote with them, we hate Kevin. Basically whatever we need to do. Honestly, I don’t feel bad. You can’t not talk to people for a full two rounds and then decide when you lose you now have a majority. Anyway so, good thing we kept the Pete vote a secret! Because I feel like Eve would have been able to make whoever had the advantage (Juls, I think) use it on Pete and then we would have been REALLY screwed. Anyway, it worked out. We voted for Pete. He left. Eve yelled. The more than curious thing that happened after the vote that makes me second guess my whole alliance is the fact that Beck came out of nowhere and told me that Sammy knew about the advantage because Juls was talking about it on a call (WHICH IS AGAINST THE RULES BC SHES AT THE ARENA BUT I GUESS WE JUST FORGET THAT PART FOR NOW BECAUSE THERES A BIGGER POINT) Anyway, in short I need to focus on keeping more info for myself and not telling my alliance. I’m used to having a ride or die alliance that I can pour info into like I did with Kinky Booties in Seychelles. I knew that info was going to aid in me going forward. Here I’m not so sure. They could literally vote me out next if they want me and push Eve into my spot because she’s a newbie and in that way, less of a threat. But anyway I tell Beck, as I’m telling them, Beck keeps writing to me as if he is being instructed to tell me more info. I don’t know if it was Juls (again, against the f*ing rules, these newbies are..!!!) or if it was someone in the alliance, maybe Jacob or Kevin. I wouldn’t think Sammy but, I don’t know. Anyway I don’t feel safe, and I’ve beat my lowest placement that I’ve ever gotten BUT, that doesn’t mean I want to get out just yet. I don’t feel good about winning this game but I would like to make it onto a jury for once (I’m always at FTC if I get past premerge 🥳) That’s all I got so far,  check back in for my MENTAL BREAAAAK after immunity results for next round bc if we lose, I’m gonna cry. I can’t deal with this again, especially since the whole Pete situation has been pawned off on me. 

SO we ended up switching the vote within the last few hours to save Karen <3! Karen made a push to save herself by going after one of the OG Blue tribe (Ben) and I was fine with the vote since me and Beck had already been in the works to blindside him in the future and since I think Karen will be more reliable at the moment I was willing to stick my neck out if Juls and Caeleb were down for the plan. With that being said I left it in their hands to make the decision so that it feels like I'm with them and shows them as power players to Beck. As soon as they made the decision I ran to Beck with the news so that he would be in the minority and for him to tell Darcy. I ended up voting Karen because I knew she would be safe but I wanted to create doubt and paranoia in everyone's mind on who voted with Ben and I think I wouldn't be the first suspect you think of. Only a subtle move. For the arena I was rooting for Billy to win to cause chaos on the Sonkei tribe and so that Pete would go home because I think Pete might become a big threat and I rather he be out now than later. Also apparently Juls used the exile to make Landen safe from their tribal council it was obvious they were each other's #1 but now other people are starting to see it. I think that we need to put an end to it because she's telling people like Sammy about her power who she's not even on a tribe with, so it shows she's planning on jumping ship the moment she's not on this tribe. Juls NEEDS to go home. I'm gonna push for her to go home this round, next time I'm on call with Beck I'm gonna try to convince him his best move is to get rid of Juls so that way a big threat is outta the game, and it makes the game that much smoother sailing. It might upset Caeleb but honestly I find people like Darcy and Karen very easy to work with and willing to work closely with me in the long term in comparison to himself or Juls. So my plan is to try and get Beck to consider going after Juls stating how she is not going to be loyal to us come a swap unlike Karen or Darcy would be. 

I, big dumb dumb, would like to retract and apologize about what I said about Beck and Juls bc when Beck told me I actually did message Juls saying I’m stressed and it didn’t occur to me that I ALSO BROKE THE RULES. I turned myself in but, yeah......it’s way harder to remember not to talk to people than I realized. Shame on me for JUDGING THEM for being newbies and not knowing how to follow the rules. This is the opposite of my proudest moment lmao 

Whew what a round. BIlly is gone and honestly gonna miss the guy, I think he would have been a great shield for me at early merge, but im not too bothered by it, because Pete is somoene I think I can work with, so like good either way with this one. If we go to tribal again I am going to be in a very awkward position. Because I dont want to vote out sarah and I think the rest of the tribe does, meaning Im gonna need to make a decision if she is gonna be expendable to me or not. ideally we win until a swap but judging by our performances so far... I wouldnt count on it. I think if we did lose Id convince stoner to work with Sarah and to take out one of emma or jacob. I liek them both but at this point Im running out of options. Im sure theyd do the same in my shoes. I'd like a tribe swap, but in the same sense Im a lil scared of a tribe swap too haha.

Reallllyyyyy tired of going to tribal. Kinda scared of billy now 

[ursoself-satisfying]

Friends Will Be Friends

they’re so cute ::””))) it's hard to find good gifs that fit this mood in particular lol rip

Roger centric (unrequited), officially John x Reader, sfw

A/N: based on a request!!! first angst piece yikes,,, this was supposed to be fluffy but appearently I cant do fluffy n now its angsty so thats fun,,, kind of a sequel to Thank God It’s Christmas, except now its new years yeet but u rly dont need to read anything beforehand this is an be a stand alone like all my fics theyre inherently connected in the universe in my head but not meant to be read in any order 

Warnings: none rly, language ofc, some emotional Rog,,,,, Brian n Fred r like mom n dad for a sec,, unrequited love n angst ;;((((

linking my playlist for my last fic cus it works here too!!! listen here ;;;)))

“Well, I don’t know, really, when we got here I was dragged off by some girls congratulating me,” you took a long sip of the pink champagne, bubbles rising as you threw your head back to finish it before continuing, “I didn’t even know them, actually.” After the drink, this being your- Well, you couldn’t remember but you’d had quite a few and you were starting to feel it. You inhibitions began to escape you, slowly buzzing out your ears like flies. Your senses were still decently sharp but everything was emitting a soft haze. You shook your head and looked at the man beside you with a snort. Roger laughed a bit as you said this, looking down at his bunching pants and smoothing them out then taking a drink of his own still full glass of the same drink. The party behind you was muted through the glass you sat beyond. When you turned to your friend, you could see his reflection in the window, over the bare backs of various guests pressed against the surface. Blinding lights of every color were magnified and you turned away from them after a moment, keeping Roger in your peripheral vision. It was odd but nice that he would sit with you like this. He was a party man yet here he was overlooking the streets and the sky from the chilly balcony with you after rescuing you from a rather unseemly conversation with some giddy female attendants in matching schoolgirl uniforms that barely covered their asses. It occurred to you Roger approached the group with ulterior motivates but in the end he left with you and that warmed you in the bite of the winter outside.

His eyes were caught on you for a moment like knit on velcro and he had to pull himself away as you held out your hand and admired the heavy stone shining on your left ring finger. Anyone could tell it was new to you with the way you fidgeted, spinning around your digits and sliding it up and down whenever you spoke. “It’s kind of funny, in a way,” you started, turning your hand so the metal band would reflect the bright lights from the party behind you, “that so many people found out so quickly and are having such- they’re all being so-” lips flattened into a thin line, you searched for a proper word to describe the situation you were in.

When you couldn’t seem to find an adequate adjective, your friend offered his help. “Jealous? Neurotic? Insufferable?” Roger leaned towards you, scooting closer on the wrought iron bench, one eyebrow raised and a goofy grin. You leaned towards him as well and with a roll of your eyes, hit his arm playfully and shook your head.

Was he wrong though? You blinked and laughed at him, “Be nice!” you scolded, to which the drummer responded with an innocent raise of his open palm and an exaggerated frown. “They’re all excited for me and, don’t get me wrong, I’m excited, too- I’m beyond!” You shrugged your shoulders a bit unsurely, “but- Oh, I don’t know.”

Your gaze was cast down and you sat in silence for a moment, your environment sinking into you. The sights and smells became clear in your pause, filling your nostrils with the traveling scents of burnt sugar and wet soil. Licking your lips before beginning again, you kept up an act, refusing to show any doubts that had seeded themselves in the pit of your stomach. It was easy for you to talk about your love for John, as you truly did love him with all your heart, mind, and soul. Even though you were scared of the change and uncertainty of what this future might bring, you were sure he would comfort you. So you spoke of him to fill in the empty air where you thought your enthusiasm should be, truth in every word but the conversation lacked substance. “He’s wonderful. He’s everything and I couldn’t live without him.” Roger didn’t look at you, or at least you thought he didn’t. It was like he was looking past you like you were there but he could see something more as you continued.

Roger watched you intently when you went silent. He didn’t speak. It looked as though you needed some quiet, or as much quiet as one could get at a trademark Freddie Mercury party. You seemed deep in thought and you looked beautiful in it. Slightly slouching and shivering now and again, you stared aimlessly ahead of you. Fireworks boomed overhead but they didn’t seem to shake you. The only stillness in a mile radius existed around in you right then.

Looking out over the moonlit garden of the mansion, glowing blue and green in the cold night, layers of snow draping the bushes like thick wool blankets and sparkling like the stars that shone brightly above, Roger sighed. It was a gorgeous view, the fireworks over the scene reflecting off all the fresh white flakes gathering in the yard, creating an effect akin to what he imagined people leaving on the Titanic saw. The woman beside him kept up her chatter, going on so sweetly about how in love with her future husband she was and he could practically feel the admiration on his cold exposed skin like lashes batting against him. The hairs on his arm rose when he thought about it, her lashes on his skin, long and soft and accompanied by something else entirely. His unhelpful imagination warped her loving words into whimpers and moans he wished he could hear every night, but every thought was partnered with weighted guilt and he shook them from his mind.

Her words still found their way to his ears like bluebirds in the spring settling on a freshly painted windowsill. “It’s a lot of attention, and I don’t mind the attention, you know that, but he does and I worry about him.” Though she makes jokes, her tone is laced with concern that sends a pang to Roger’s heart.

“You really love him?” He started but interrupted himself, catching himself before he got into a conversation he wasn’t sure he could handle hearing in his over-emotional, half drunken state. “That’s a stupid question, isn’t it?” He looked to you with a smile, though the difficulty of the action was seeping through his teeth like a syrup. With his elbows supporting him as he leaned on his knees, he finished his sparkling drink and chuckled softly. He had inched closer still and now the two of you were touching at the hip. Closeness wasn’t uncommon or uncomfortable given the proximity the band often existed in. You were included in that as often as you’d been with the band in these places, the backstage dressing rooms or clubs and trailers.

The man’s breath hitched when he felt a soft feathery object fall upon his shoulder. It was your head leaning on him, hair nuzzling into the crook of his neck. God, he couldn’t fucking stand it. He held still, still as the marble images around the edge of their view, not wanting you to move, so desperately not wanting to disturb you. He wished- He wished so many things were acceptable to do right then, to do to you, to tell you- “So, uh, where do you think your boyfriend’s gone off to now?”

The words fell out like a cough, rough and unwanted in his throat. He could never grow to hate the man you were to marry. In fact, he probably loved him nearly as much as you did, though in a different way, of course, but it hurt him to see you with someone else, anyone else. It hurt more knowing this feeling had only grown the more you were together and that the only reason you two were ever together was that you were with John. Without John, he never would have met you, but because of John, he would never get to experience you in any way he fantasized. Of course, you didn’t have a monopoly on his mind, it would be unfair of him to claim that as he had other women, other lovers, and girlfriends for long periods of time. You, though, you were always there, both physically and just as a thought in the back of his head.

You interrupted his spacing out when you moved your head off him. He suddenly ached for the contact, both for the warmth and the connection it brought to him. The worst part was the departure of your scents, the soft exotic fruits of your shampoo washed off the pads of his jacket when you sat up to speak. You turned to look up at the pink and orange sparkling fireworks erupting overhead, echoing through the empty vastness of the spacious snow covered green. The snow absorbed the reverb, though, making the ordeal slightly less startling. Roger’s round, sunken eyes were on you as your own eyes traced the path of the falling ashes, still glowing as they rained from above. The sparks landed softly on the ground at your feet and in the light hair of your current companion. He watched as bits put out in your own tousled waves, crowning you with a dirty halo like an angel bringing forth the chaos of a clean slate.

Your growing smile sent another jolt to through the musician’s vessels to his heart. “I imagine he’s probably been given a few too many drinks at this point and has danced himself to the point of passing out and is asleep on a futon somewhere.” The laugh that followed was like music to his ears, like a symphony of love and a bittersweet taste of an unattainable treasure. “It’s exactly what I expected him to do- It’s what we planned actually,” you laughed again, “but I’m just not there with him while he’s doing it.”

Your breathy chuckle died out and you wrapped your arms around yourself with a shiver, the winter around you finally finding it’s way beneath your festive but not protective clothing choices. To be fair, you hadn’t known nor expected to be spending the whole of the New Year’s party outside and open to the forces of nature. Roger nodded as you spoke, still not looking at you. The weight of entering the new year with the unending potential, i.e. expectation, of marriage made you anxiously already and your friend acting so strangely right beside you only made you feel worse. It was a happy holiday, though, for clean starts and letting go and you weren’t about to burden him with these thoughts of yours. He sat back and turned to you slowly, placing a delicate hand on your knee. His soft lips opened to speak when a familiar voice bled through the glass, loud enough to reach over the resounding music still playing, which meant it could only be the host himself.

“Alright, you wonderful people! Midnight is almost upon us so grab yourself a partner! We don’t want to be entering the new year alone, do we?” A crowd roared and booed in response and they all clamored to find someone to hold as they made the journey into January 1st. The two of you looked back at the commotion, then at each other. The space between you was pregnant with things unspoken and uncivil, the child of want and need and lack of better options. Lust and longing brewed on Roger’s end and confusion on yours. Whatever he had wanted to say seemed to slip his mind as your eyes met and for a moment he just looked at you in awe.

There went his heart again, fiddling with his emotions in ways it shouldn’t, hurting as he turned away from you. He checked the time on his watch and it was only minutes until the strike of midnight. He had two choices here and neither was going to absolve him of all his unhappiness, but one had more appeal than the other. Fuck, he thought, was he really this awful of a person? Removing his lingering hand from the woman’s leg, which he was so thankful you so kindly didn’t mention, he stood and looked back at you. Your attention turned to him in his movement and you looked up at him, eyes glimmering in the light of the flashing night sky. He’d imagined looking down at you like this many times, perhaps in a bit of a different situation, but often when he was alone, on tour, in the shower. Here you were, though, tipsy and clearly preoccupied, plagued by second thoughts on your commitment, he assumed, alone with him and you were beautiful. Glowing like the garden you gazed out at, brighter than the moon over the snow and the sprinkling sparkles of celebratory fireworks above your heads. Time was not his friend or it would have allowed him to meet you before his bandmate did. He supposed, though, with great melancholy disdain, that one couldn't change fate and he had determined it must have been fate between you and John. The two of you were perfect. His options at that moment were to give into himself or to not fight fate and he chose-

“C’mon, then, love, you heard the man. It’s almost midnight and you should be spending these first and last minutes with the love of your life. Well,” he winked, “the other love of your life.” His hand was extended to you and you took it graciously, standing up with hurried blinks, the booze you drank earlier rushing to your head. You caught yourself on him as your feet failed to hold you up straight. His arms wrapped around you as you collided with his chest. He swore under his breath, knowing this was God’s punishment for all the tantrums he’d had. His body was warm on your and you hummed at the exchange of heat, killing him a bit more. Roger could barely move, desperately not wanting to let you go but knowing he had to. He pushed you back up and held you so you stood before him. Your deep breath woke you up, the sharp night air fressing in your hot, alcohol coated lungs. You could barely hold your head up to look him in the eye.

The percussionist could see the sudden wave of extremely inconvenient tiredness roll over you and he prepared himself for the contact he craved, knowing it was temporary and for the good of his friends. “Let’s find your hubby-to-be, huh? Get that New Year’s kiss.” He said, scooped you under one arm to guide you into the maze of people that was the party. Upon entering, the man holding you did his best to keep you close, for your safety partially for his own satisfaction. To you, everything began blending together. You simply felt exhausted and you suspected it to be some physical manifestation of emotional fatigue after all the circles you ran around yourself pondering the unnecessary worries of marriage. Fingers that weren’t your dug into your side and you had to catch your breath everytime you felt palms press against your form and embrace you in order to guide you through the mass of excitable horny couples preparing for the bell to toll.

“Roger, what’re you doing, darling?” Fred’s voice came from behind and Roger jumped.

“Fuck, Fred!”

“Roger,” the host said again, unfazed by his reaction and moving to face the pair, “what are you doing?” His tone was more pointed this time and he crossed his arms, brows furrowed at the sight of his arms around the engaged woman. His fingers tapped against his arm and he blocked you from going any further. Your eyes were half open and vision growing blurry but you could make out Fred’s voice anywhere. You were still awake but you were,  in the nicest terms, out of it.

Roger scoffed and rolled his eyes, attempting to push past the singer, lowering his voice to speak into his ear as he passed, “It’s not like that, Fred, I’m finding her John.” Fred lowered his brow still and watch the couple shove through, passing him and heading to the cushioned seats in the center of the room. Fred shook his head, a cocktail of emotions raining over his features. Sympathy, pity, and disapproval all showed through his knowing glance back as he walked away.

The man holding you shook off the accusatory interaction with his bandmate and, reaching the cluster of chairs, spotted the poor bassist slumped against a wall. His fluffy hair was flat against the plaster wall behind him, leaning his head back and looking absolutely unfazed by anything happening around him. Frankly, Roger wasn’t even sure he was awake, eyes barely slits open. Then all the shit hit all the fans all at once, relative to Roger’s priorities.

“One more minute!” Someone yelled, and the bodies around him suddenly starting reacting, moving and jumping as excitement filled the air along with the odors of spilled beer and bodily sweat. Cursing, her gripped your slightly more awake form and shuffled towards where your lover was.

Now more awake than even before your drinks, jostled by the sound immersing you, you pulled back from the blonde holding you. Roger, losing your heat against him, turned back and spoke to you in the form a confused expression, arms raised as a question of why you disconnected. “Be my kiss,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear. You hadn't seen your other half, half awake at the end of the room. The time was ticking down and you were ready to give into booze filled bad ideas instead of overthinking this just as you had everything else tonight. “I don’t even know where John is,” you threw your hands up as you took a step towards Roger, who couldn’t take his eyes off you, “and it’s just you, Rog, he wouldn’t mind.” A smile graced your face with a small laugh, aiming to wash away the awkwardness of the suggestion, though it was meant to be innocent.

Or was it? Roger shuddered as another crack spread through his heart. Truly, this must have been a cruel joke. Kiss you? No, you only suggested it because you saw him as someone non-threatening and there would be no consequences. You saw him as someone you weren’t attracted to, he thought. True or not, that interpretation of your words hurt him, he hurt himself in thinking it. He wanted this so badly, but you and John were not even 20 ft from one another and neither of you saw each other. Maybe fate- No, he thought again, this wasn’t his place and it pained him to turn you down.

Without a word to you, the drummer turned and waved his hand in the air, calling your lover’s name. “John! JOHN!” Your hand was slipped into his in the process and together you made it to wherever it was Roger had seen the quiet man. Your face had lit up upon hearing John’s name and you eagerly followed your guide.

John was pulled from the deep recess of his mind as he stood entranced by the ceiling tiles, assuming you had found friends to party with and he hadn't wanted to intrude. His name was being called by an unmistakenly high pitched voice and he knit his brows, bouncing off the surface behind him to search the bobbing heads of the crowd counting down. A sweatband clad wrist waved excitedly at him and, what do you know, attached to that hand was a certain short-tempered drummer leading behind him-

“[Y/N]!” John called after you. The second he caught you in his sights, it was tunnel vision and he ran in your direction. Roger led you out of the densest mass and gave you a swift friendly swat on the backside as encourage you to meet your fiance. You squeaked, both at the swat and the sight of your lover. When he reached you, he completely engulfed you and you were left with nothing to know besides him. He was everything to do and every anxiety you had was gone at that moment, disappeared in a poof of smoke. Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, your face in his hair, smelling the drinks on him and loving every second of it. His large hands spread to shield the small of your back and hold you as close to him as possible.

The countdown began and the hundred of voices throughout the house chanted in unison, “Ten! Nine! Eight!”

John pulled away enough to look at your face and his own was distressed, “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier, I assumed you were having a good time elsewhere-”

“I’m always having a better time when I’m with you and it’s fine!” You laughed sympathetically, yelling over the loud countdown, “I got lost in the evening- In everything that was going on, and I-”

“I’m sorry!” He said, smiling weakly. He was so sweet and soft in the colorful lights melting over him.

“Four! Three! Two!”

“Shut up and kiss me-” And your lips collided with his. The clock struck midnight and it was a new year. The cheers around you, throughout the house, were earsplitting and no doubt the neighbors would have complaints, but no one cared. At that moment, everything was wiped clean. There was nothing but new opportunities and potential ahead of them and you finally came to terms with that. It helped to have your future husband caressing you and kissing you with such a passion you thought your lips would go numb. Nothing could have been better than being there in his embrace, you thought, and you mentally thanked Roger for dealing with you, distracting you, and helping you get to this point.

From behind you, Roger looked on with a smile, but as you two remained connected well past 12:01 AM January 1st, he left the scene. He tried to remember he had a woman, albeit one in a difficult relationship with him, and that he shouldn’t be having those thoughts about you at all. There were so many reasons why you were such a contradiction, so right yet so wrong, and it all made him crazier for you. He stepped back out onto the quieter space of the balcony where he’d been with you before. The cold felt like something he deserved. Not being able to stand to watch you exchange hot, open-mouthed kisses with someone else, though he’d never had one from you, was a ridiculous reason to leave his dear friend’s party, he thought. It didn’t stop him from stepping out, though.

The party inside died down as people passed out or left and the sun rose early that morning. Roger watched it, dark bags beneath his eyes a sign of his state. He remained outside, at some point having been given a blanket by a drunken guest immediately before they puked and passed out in said puke. The blanket was clean, thank God, and it was the only thing allowing him to stay where he was so long. The sunrise made him think of you, how bright you were. The birds that rose with the daylight reminded him of the harmony of your voice and the warmth he felt made him think of your body against his in any way possible What it year it was already, he thought, losing himself in inappropriate images of you. It was January 1st and Roger Meddows Taylor had started the year without a kiss and with an aching pain in his chest instead.

BONUS:

Upon finding himself the only one awake so early in the morning and having nothing to do, the lead guitarist instinctively began picking up. Streamers and bodies littered the floor among the confetti, sparkles, the leftover stick of shattered and spilled sugary drinks surrounded by a dangerous array of broken glass that shone with a misleading glimmer of beauty in the midmorning light. The trails of colorful debris had led him to the sliding glass doors of the balcony that open and closed with a low muffled click. Outside, though, was a sight the tall man hadn’t expected to see. His drummer, small and angry, was sound asleep on the bench coddled in a well-loved blanket. Head thrown back and mouth open, drool sliding down his cheek, he looked like a child and somewhere the standing man’s paternal instincts kicked in. Brian sat down beside the snoring blonde and put his arm around him. He was cold to the touch, the thin cover clearly not being enough to trap the heat to keep him comfortable.

His long languid fingers played upon his bandmate’s shoulder until it stirred him from his slumber. He jolted awake with a fearful, high pitched string of swears, frantically looking around until he saw the person beside him then proceeded to swat away any contact that had been made between the two of them. Brian laughed heartily and jumped a bit at the tired man’s reaction. “Fuck are you doing, mate?” Roger said, adjusting his posture and attempting to compose himself. He gingerly pulled the blanket tighter around him and shivered, now realizing how cold he was, as the new sun did very little to warm his aching body.

Looking on with worry in his eyes, though amusement ran through his face, Brian sucked on his teeth as he contemplated what would be the best curse of action in this delicate situation. “Fred told me he saw you with-”

“Oh, don’t start.” A disgusted Roger scoffed and turned towards his friend. Though he would never admit to the emotion behind his voice, the rings of hurt around his eyes made it clear something painful came from his heart.

Brian sat back a little, the cold of the metal bench sneaking through his coat and stinging his back. He understood the space Roger occupied, having once been there himself and it all seemed to work out wonderfully, but this, he admitted,  was a bit more complicated. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything, as his friend sniffled and wiped at his nose discreetly. He couldn’t hide his quivering lip, though.

Though he’d pushed him away before. Brian went again to wrap his arm around the drummer, tightly this time so he couldn't be removed, squeezing and rocking him back and forth as a method of comfort. Roger choked back a sob and his eyes wet against his will. He kept face, though, and remained still, staring out upon the bright melting snow of the growing green garden that reminded of so much of her. A rattled inhale preceded a raspy confession, “I love h-”

“You love John,” Brian interrupted, pretending not to hear what the shorted man was about to say, knowing if he let it out he would regret it and he wouldn’t let his friend make that mistake. “He’s one of your best friends and you love him, hm?” Sitting beside him, the curly mop of long dark hairs towered over his companion’s messy blonde wisps. He looked down at him with a stretched smile, but the other avoided making eye contact. “You love,” Brian sighed, “that he has found someone who makes him so happy. Sometimes they mess up, but don’t we all?” Knowing to raise his brows as he spoke, the guitar player gave his childish friend one last squeeze on the arm then rose and looked out over the greenery below with him. “Don’t h-” He trailed off for a moment, then pushed his eyeline down, turning halfway to the still sitting musician. His hand held his chin in thought before he continued, “Don’t make any mistakes you’ll regret.” The response was thought out and he sends the percussionist a message of sympathy and understanding in his lopsided grin and squinted eyes. With a nod, he exited the balcony, leaving one last pat on Roger’s shoulder.

Roger took a moment to consider the ominous advice of his friend. He thought of all people to tell him something nice, it would have been Brian, for whom a situation much like his own actually ended well. He was disappointed in what he’d said. He did love John, like a little brother. Aren’t brothers just awful, though? The chilly air dried out his tongue as he breathed open-mouthed, nose blocked with clear snot that he would deny was ever there. The tears he couldn’t stop though. One by one, silent streaks cleared their way down the sides of his face from his soft blue eyes. “Quite the predicament,” he said softly to himself, biting back any unattractive noises that dared to climb up his throat. He let out a final conclusion in a pained smile and quiet voice, “Fuck.”