#eventually I’ll empty my inbox again

[affixjoy]

[racinggirl]

promise

Lando Norris Fic - requested

My inbox for requests

a/n: Oh my godness I'm back y'all! It's been so long! It's the first request of hopefully many to come. So far my inbox is empty again, so don't hold back to send in some requests, one, or more. You can even send some anonymously! I hope you will like this story, and keep reading to find some little extra's I added, because I loved making AU's as well. Let me know your thoughts, tips, tops, anything really. It keeps me motivated to write more, so any form of feedback is very welcomed! Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy this fic 🧡

‘’Promise.’’ You linked your pinkie finger with the 5-year-old curly haired boy, giggling as the both of you were running around the playground, hiding from his mother.

‘’Come on, I’m nearly 25 already! I can easily go on vacation on my own!’’ You had always wanted to go on a road trip, preferably with a partner on your side, but that hadn’t been the case yet. So, you decided to go alone, because why not? You were old enough to look out for yourself, even though your parents weren’t too keen on the idea of their daughter traveling around Europe on her own.

‘’The world has changed, Y/N, it’s not safe to go on your own.’’

‘’But-…’’

‘’No, you’re not going on your own, end of story.’’

You groaned at your parents’ reaction and went to your room, frustrated, upset, but somehow you got their point. They weren’t wrong, the world had changed, and wasn’t that innocent anymore. Wherever you were watching the news, reports about murder, drunken drivers, kidnappers, it was all out there.

‘There’re more crazy people out in the world than there are behind bars’ was something your father would say, and he wasn’t wrong.

However, you wished you would have been able to do what that curly haired boy did. Sometimes you were jealous of him, jealous of how he travelled all around the world, going from one country to another, flying from Finland to Australia to Bali and back to his new home, Monaco.

Him and you met when you were karting in Bristol, the both of you loving the sport more than ever. However, karting wasn’t a girl’s sport, at least not to the world at that age. That’s why you moved on from it, where he pursued his dream career, you were only there to cheer from the side lines.

You hated learning, studying, it’s something you never were good at, or at least, not in school. Whenever you saw the data on the karting track, you’d spent hours trying to understand every piece of data that was coming through.

You begged your parents to let you go to engineering school, university. They didn’t want you to, it wasn’t a ‘girl’s thing’ to do, but after you refused to do anything else, they eventually agreed on letting you go to engineering school.

4 years later, and you had your engineering degree. You couldn’t be happier, because right now it meant you might do something you’d actually enjoy. Even if it wasn’t a ‘girl’s thing’ to do, you loved it.

‘’Hey’’ you smiled as you brought the phone close to your ear, lying in bed as you checked the time.

‘’Hey, did you see?’’

‘’Oh yeah, I did.’’ You laughed, looking up at the ceiling. ‘’You were flying! Pole position baby!’’ You giggled, smiling even harder when you heard him on the other side, repeating the final three words of your sentence.

‘’You still have to come for a race someday, you know?’’ His deep voice was ringing through your ears, and it immediately made your chest feel warm, it always did, he always did.

‘’Mhm.. I know, and I will, when my parents finally let me.’’ You sighed, playing with the ropes of your hoodie.

‘’You’re almost 25, when will they ever let you do your own things?’’

‘’I don’t know,’’ you sighed heavily, ‘’when I’m 40?’’

The sound of his laugh made you sit up straight, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink as you heard his laughter.

‘’Nah, I’ll have you kidnapped by then.’’ He smiled, causing you to giggle next. ‘’They’ll destroy you when you do that.’’

‘’Good thing I have my bodyguards, then.’’ And that made your heart feel a thousand times warmer. He was never one to brag about his success, never. He always was very modest, very gentle, and never liked it whenever people talked about the amount of money he had, or how famous he was. That’s why you clicked so good. You knew each other from when you were 3 years old, and he knew you liked him as a friend, and not because he was a driver.

‘’I asked them if I could go on a road trip, alone.’’ You quietly said, hearing how he fumbled around on the other side of the line. A soft ‘hold on, I’m busy’ made you smile, knowing he told whoever was there to wait, because he was talking to you.

‘’And let me guess, they wouldn’t let you go alone because the world is dangerous.’’

‘’Yep, exactly.’’ You sighed but sat up straight when you heard him gasp.

‘’Lando, what did you do?’’

‘’Nothing.’’

‘’What are you thinking?’’

Silence…

‘’Lando?’’

‘’Come with me.’’ You could hear his grin through the phone, and he could hear your brains working overtime because he immediately started to explain himself. ‘’You won’t be alone, you’ll be with me, my team, my crew.’’ He said. ‘’You can travel the world with me, I might even be able to work around some things here to have you here for some sort of internship, so you won’t have any expenses, and you’ll be able to come to the races with me. Your parents know me, I’m not a stranger.’’

You wanted to say yes, you wanted to give in because honestly, it was a great idea.

‘’But, and these aren’t my worlds, but you’re famous, Lando, and you-…’’

‘’I’m still the same Lando from 20 years ago.’’

‘’I know, I know that, but my parents don’t, you know how they are…’’

You hated the fact you just basically told him you couldn’t go with him because he was famous, and you hated that word as much as he did. Your parents were always so fond of him, they loved him, but they also always made sure to tell you that he had a lot of money, was very well known around the world and that most famous people weren’t the same people they were before they had the money. They’d say that the fame got to their heads, but it wasn’t the same with Lando. He had always been that giggly, funny, sweet, and caring boy, but simply because he wasn’t around during Christmas dinners, or the traditional ‘start of spring’ picnic, they assumed he felt too good for those kinds of things. You explained to them that he was just busy, that because of his job, the start of spring was in the middle of the start of the season, and that he simply couldn’t make it. But they were your parents, stubborn as always.

‘’Y/N?’’

‘’Hmm, sorry, what?’’ You said, hearing him chuckle on the other side of the phone.

‘’Let me talk to them, okay? Let me try to convince them, because honestly, you wouldn’t be the only one to benefit from that decision.’’ He whispered, causing your cheeks to heat up again.

‘’Okay.’’

‘’Lando?’’ Your parents were surprised to see him at your front step. He promised you he’d come to talk to your parents, and he always keeps his promises.

‘’Y/F/N, Y/M/N, it’s been a while, it’s good to see you again.’’ He was always very polite. Calling your parents by their first name was something you always did; you did the same with Adam and Cisca.

It was a good conversation, you occasionally tried to mix yourself into it. A reassuring smile from the curly haired boy made you confident enough to speak up to your parents, and this time, with success, because only a few weeks after your conversation you were packing your clothes.

One year. For one year you’d join Lando with his journey around the world. You had no idea how he did it, and especially this fast, but he had managed to give you an internship position at McLaren, meaning you could come along to the races, the dream scenario for every Lando-girl out there.

‘’You’re the best, you know?’’ You laughed, placing your phone on the bed as you zipped up your suitcases. Instead of living here in London with your parents for a year, you and him both decided it would be the best if you would live in his apartment near Woking. It was still close to home, and to the factory.

He was the best one could imagine, and you knew he was, because he was always there, and he always kept his promises.

You put your phone away and collected the things you had to before ordering a taxi to head straight to the airport. You had been living in his apartment for almost 2 weeks now, and things were good, they were great. He occasionally came to Woking for work, but also to spend time with you. You were best friends ever since, and nothing could ever change that.

The moment you arrived on the airport you felt it again. Those feelings you have been trying to ignore the moment they appeared again, the moment your brain wandered off and thought of him. He always made you feel that way, but you ignored it, always. It might sound cliché, and you hated thinking about it because in every romance book it got romanticized. Having feelings for your best friend never worked out great, except in those books.

But reality is, you’re not living in a book, you’re living in the real world, and it was dangerous. Feelings weren’t mutual all the time, and you didn’t want to find out if it was the case this time because you didn’t want to get your heart broken, so being friends made you be close, feel good without the heartbreak ending it.

It went quick, you got in the jet and 1 hour and a few minutes later you were already back on the ground. He was right, it was faster. Of course he was right, he always was, and that made you fall for him even more, how silly it may sound.

He had texted you, saying he was waiting in his car because of the fans wandering at the airport. Someone spotted his car on the way here, and the FBI agents they are, they immediately put one and one together. He was picking up someone, or his girlfriend, something most fans would say.

‘’Hey.’’ You smiled as you embraced him in a tight hug, he smelled good, he always did. A mix of Dior Sauvage and his own scent made you inhale his scent deeply. It felt like home. You explained him that mixing 3 very expensive perfumes wasn’t making him smell 3 times better, he used to mix most of his perfumes until you made that comment. He asked which one you liked the most, and ever since you mentioned Sauvage all he wore was that. But you never noticed the reason was because you mentioned it, you always thought he simply liked that fragrance the most.

‘’Hey, how was the flight?’’ He opened your car door after helping you put the suitcase in his trunk, the real gentleman he was, and hopped in the driver’s seat.

‘’Amazing, the most relaxing flight I’ve ever had.’’ You sighed, putting on your seatbelt before looking over at him, how he started the car and drove out of the parking garage.

You talked more, about the flight, about how things were at the apartment, his apartment here in Monaco, you even talked about your plans these next upcoming days.

‘’We’ll go to London tomorrow.’’ He whispered. The both of you were laying on his couch in his apartment here in Monaco. Instead of watching TV, you had moved the couch so you both could see the harbour, and the sun setting in the ocean.

The couple of weeks you had been here were the best you ever experienced. You did many things, from shopping to karting in Italy, a day at the beach in France, simracing and even streaming. You made chat very clear you were best friends and nothing more, but when people in chat started to ask about his feelings, and about yours, he told you, quietly, to not answer and ignore them, whatever that might have meant.

‘’Really?’’ Your smile grew wider when he mentioned that. It would be your birthday in 2 days, and you always spent your birthday at home, with your family and friends. Last year he couldn’t make it, as the season started the day your birthday was, but this year he made his way around it. Your birthday was on Tuesday, so Wednesday you’d both fly with his jet to Bahrein for the first race of the year.

‘’Mhm, I wouldn’t want to break your birthday tradition.’’ He smiled, his lips placing a tender kiss on your temple. You were lying when you said your feelings towards him hadn’t grown these couple of weeks with him in Monaco. Everything he did gave you tinglings in your stomach and you couldn’t help ignoring them anymore. You surrendered to the fact you had a crush on him, you liked your best friend, and it was the best feeling ever.

‘’Happy Birthday!’’ Your parents were waiting in the living room when you entered the house. They decorated the entire room with balloons, garlands, and pictures from your first till your 24th birthday.

‘’Smile!’’ They held the camera out in front of you, and you immediately felt an arm wrapped around your shoulder. This caused your smile to grow even wider.

‘’Happy Birthday, beautiful.’’ He whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple as his scent immediately went through your nose.

‘’Thank you…’’ You whispered, looking into his bright eyes and immediately looking down after, trying to hide the fact you were blushing because of his actions.

Later that evening, after you spent time with your family and friends, you and Lando went back to his apartment. You got many gifts, and you couldn’t be happier about this day.

‘’How was your day?’’ You felt the vibrations of his deep voice going through your entire body, leaning against him as you were seated on the couch of his apartment.

‘’Amazing.’’ You smiled. ‘’Couldn’t be better.’’

‘’Oh, but I think it can.’’ He reached for something in his bag, and once he got the box, he handed it to you. ‘’Happy Birthday, beautiful.’’ He whispered again, watching how you opened the box slowly.

You pulled the black coloured leash that was hanging from the side of the box and gently placed it on the table in front of you. You lifted the lid and grabbed the small bag inside of the box.

‘’Lando.’’ You gasped, touching the velvet bag and opening it slowly. Tears were burning in your eyes at this point, because you realised he made all this effort to get the perfect gift for you. And he succeeded because it was more than perfect.

‘’This is way too crazy.’’ You whispered, feeling how he moved your hair to the side, helping you clipping the silver Swarovski necklace around your neck.

‘’Look inside.’’ He said, tucking some hair away from your face with his fingers, causing your nervousness to grow even more.

You opened the necklace and smiled when you saw the picture inside. It immediately gave you flashbacks, because even though you were only 4 and 5 years old, it was the brightest memory you had from the two of you.

FLASHBACK

‘’Dating is stupid! Kissing is stupid!’’ You laughed when you were seated on the swing, holding tightly when Lando pushed you carefully.

‘’I know! My mommy and daddy kiss when daddy comes home from work and it’s so weird!’’ He laughed, making sure you wouldn’t fall from the swing.

‘’Lando! Y/N! Come on, it’s time to go home!’’ You heard Cisca calling for the both of you, and you jumped off the swing immediately.

‘’Come on, run!’’ He held your hand and while the both of you laughed, you ran to the playground, hiding from Lando’s mom. ‘’Shhh..’’

You stayed there for almost 5 minutes, which seemed like an eternity when you’re just 4 years old. ‘’I have an idea.’’ The curly haired boy smiled and held your hand tightly.

‘’Okay, tell me!’’ You giggled.

‘’When we’re both 25 and we’re still single, I’ll ask you to marry me.’’ He smiled, causing you to giggle and laugh, him doing the same. ‘’Okay!’’

‘’Lando! Y/N, come on we have to go, it’s getting dark!’’ You ran away again, running around the playground as you linked your pinkie finger with him. ‘’Promise’’.

END OF FLASHBACK

After he clipped the necklace around your neck, he took a hold of your hand and grabbed the second box in his bag. He kneeled in front of you, a smile on his lips as he opened the box with one hand.

‘’Marry me.’’ He whispered. ‘’Not now, don’t worry. But one day. You know I am a man of my word, and I still remember that day so well.’’ He smiled, looking at your necklace and then back into your eyes. He always maintained eye contact with you, and it made you feel safe and secure, because you know you can trust those eyes.

‘’I’ve been counting the days till your birthday, knowing that the day you turned 25, I was able to ask this question. I’m lying when I say I was hoping you wouldn’t find someone to be by your side, because, and maybe I’m being selfish, but I want to be that man. It’s too fast to immediately ask you to marry me, because I can’t force you to say yes, but God… Y/N. See this as a promise ring. See this as a promise ring that we’ll be together, that I’ll be the man in your life that makes you the happiest you’ll ever be.’’

Tears were streaming down your face as you listened to every word he said. Every word chosen so carefully yet so chaotically, because this is the moment you knew you weren’t the only one feeling this intense love for him. He felt it for you, too.

You answered him by cupping his cheeks with your hands and doing the one thing you have been dreaming of doing for almost 22 years. You kissed him, his lips moving on yours almost instantly caused you to smile against his lips, him following your movements. This kiss was something else, something that made all the butterflies in your stomach explode with fireworks, like they were all holding a fairy light and lighting them all at the same time.

‘’I love you, Lando, I always have, and I’m so glad I can finally say it out loud now.’’ You giggled, feeling his hand reaching for yours and the ring slipped around your finger so effortlessly.

‘’I love you too, and I promise I’ll get you a proper engagement ring.’’ He whispered before pressing his lips on yours again, firmly, full of love.

2 years later

[keldjinfae]

Snippet Sunday

Catching up on tags and asks at an excruciatingly glacial pace (apologies to those who have had their messages/tags/asks sitting in my inbox for months, and assurances that I have not been annoyed by them in the slightest, just dealing with... A Lot). I was tagged by my mutually twisted/twisted mutual @dear-massacre, and I still have some of @renmackree (art) and my (writing) equally slow-going WIP left to share. Eventual Sterek, for now this is just Derek and his pack.

Unlike most dreams that he could simply shrug off and forget about by the time he’d gotten out of bed, Derek’s hands clenched around the empty space between them, trying to physically hold onto what had just been there moments before. He knew in the blood and the bones of him that the raven had been real, real and his, and that he had been taken away from Derek before: “he is yours, and our wait is nearly over.” Whoever awaited him in the City of Bones, the Trickster had also given Derek the warning that his time to act was running out.

“Uh… Derek?” Isaac’s soft voice called out uncertainly from just outside the entrance of the tent.

Derek blew out a breath, his eyes still on his hands as he forced them to relax. “It’s fine,” he answered, his voice still rough from slumber. “Everything’s fine,” he repeated, to reassure himself just as much as Isaac. He cleared his throat and pushed himself up into a sitting position at the same time Isaac ducked his head in through the panels of the tent.

The beta’s hunched shoulders were only partly because of the awkward height of the tent—after spending so much time as another pack’s scapegoat, Isaac still had moments when he expected his alpha to lash out if he was too loud, or too slow, or didn’t somehow anticipate Derek’s every need. Derek ran a hand through his hair and over his face, feeling how rough and unkempt he must’ve looked underneath his palm, and made sure to keep his shoulders as relaxed and nonthreatening as possible. He felt the typical stirring of his own anger on behalf of his mistreated betas simmer down when Isaac managed to relax just as quickly as he’d tensed up. “I would’ve just let you keep sleeping, but you started growling loud enough to make people nervous,” Isaac explained, without any indication that he’d been intimidated, too.

Derek exhaled slowly, his brows pinched together over pursed lips, then nodded his gratitude. Isaac took his lack of a verbal response as an invitation to enter the tent completely, sitting down in front of Derek in the small space, and reassuring his alpha as well as himself that his past was still decidedly in the past. “Did she have anything good to say? Or helpful? Like guard shift rotations or addresses or something?” Derek’s sardonic snort of laughter made Isaac’s mouth twitch upwards in a show of pride, before mellowing again, awaiting an answer.

“If that’s how her messages worked, maybe I wouldn’t hate them so much,” Derek said ruefully, rubbing the side of his face again before stretching out his stiff arms. Isaac’s brow quirked, but he otherwise waited for Derek to parse things together himself. “She said there’s someone I’ll want to look for. In the Citadel,” he clarified, when Isaac likely started to say that they already knew about his sisters, since they were already there for them in the first place. “And that she wouldn’t wait any longer for me to find him. Or couldn’t,” he corrected, frowning.

“Him?” Isaac repeated, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Him who?”

“I don’t…” Derek breathed in again, lowering his voice to better ensure that they weren’t overheard by anyone outside the thick hide of the tent. “I don’t know, but I will when I see him.”

“Will you?” Isaac asked, dubious. His eyes flitted over Derek, not quite meeting his as he kept his tone carefully neutral. “You’re sure it’s not just a—you know—trick?”

Derek was already shaking his head before Isaac had finished the question. “No. No, it didn’t feel like a trap—” even if he’d been led into an all but literal dead end “—for me. It didn’t feel like one for me.” He looked down at his hands again, recalling the raven pecking away at his fingers as he tried to free him. “I think he’s already trapped, and she wants me to get him out.”

“And we’re, what, just supposed to find some random guy in the Citadel—maybe in the Citadel—while we’re also trying to get your sisters back?” Isaac’s voice remained hushed, but he was now slouching forward, his gray eyes narrowed shrewdly. “How little time do you think we have?”

Derek grimaced, recalling the flooding, collapsing tower, as well as the vague sense of pain and terror that suggested none of them had made it out of the dream unscathed, or even alive. “About the same as we had before,” he said, frowning down at the space between them as he sought a way to explain that the terror he’d felt had come from being too late to save the raven; that he’d known even as the Glass stabbed into him that he was dreaming, and would simply wake up. “The message wasn’t an ultimatum; it was a warning.”

“A warning,” Isaac echoed, rubbing his knuckles against his bottom lip while he continued to watch Derek closely, “or an offering? It’s not an ultimatum, but we can’t just leave anymore if we don’t think we can pull it off, can we?” He drew his lip between his teeth, moving his hand up to tug at his thick hair instead. After a few seconds, he shrugged, even if he was still hunched forward. “We were already wondering why she decided to help us. At least now we know.”

Derek wasn’t aware he’d been carrying tension in his frame until it seeped out of him in a wave of relief. “If you want to stay out here, now that the plan has changed—”

“What I want is to crush both twins’ skulls with my bare hands,” Isaac cut him off, his tone just as quiet as Derek’s, but firmly matter-of-fact. His eyes glinted with bloodlust as he flashed his alpha a grin, his teeth bared like he was already gorging on a kill. “I can settle for never having to see them again.”

“And none of it will matter anyway if we don’t make it past the city gates,” Erica spoke up suddenly, muffled and muzzy from where she was curled up against Boyd, still more asleep than awake. Boyd’s gaze was already fixed on them, and likely had been for a while, his expression revealing nothing. Before Derek could assess what the rest of his pack felt, Erica yawned and sat up, her limbs stretching out until they popped as she glanced around her. “Where’s Jackson?” she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes.

“He went to go find some ‘real food’ at one of the stands—take the man out of the city,” Isaac joked with a snort before sobering. “He’s also checking to see if he knows any of the guards at the gates; figures it’ll at least give us an idea of how much convincing we’ll need to do to get in.”

I don't know who else has already been tagged or who's currently working on anything, but zero-pressure tags for @nerdherderette @vmures @seaweed-water @ephemeronidwrites @thotpuppy and anyone else who wants to share!

[still-awaiting-starman]

The Screw Up- Stanley Pines holiday requests

Song- It’s been a Year by Stephen Day THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR REQUEST AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS! 🎄🗣️🐄🦇

edit: @darkstormyseabunny HOLY SHIT IM SO SORRY IM A FUCKING BOOMER- for an explanation of why it’s so late- I’m stupid and lost my drafts, ENTIRELY, then forgot once I thought it had posted. so I had to rewrite it 😭 once again, I am so sorry, The Kiki writing was also lost but it should be posting soon. But again I am so sorry for the ALMOST 6 MONTH WAIT. I apologize entirely and you have every right to be pissed with my dumbass - with love and stupidity, batty 🦇💕

Stanley Pines looked in the mirror at the old red sweater that belonged to his estranged brother, wherever he was. He stared at his stomach, his face, the square glasses finishing off the con man’s mask he had been wearing for 29 years. It was time for the annual Mystery Shack Holiday Party.

I hope I fit in This old sweater Cause I can’t afford one that fits better Must be bloated From my dinner Cause just last year my reflection was thinner

He hadn’t really changed in those thirty years. Even with the real ford gone, he was still just a screw up running a shack of lies in the middle of nowhere. With Ford’s luck he’s probably sailing with someone at least competent, not a man who ruins everything.

When it’s been a year Christmas is here And family is near to say My how much you’ve changed

If his parents could see him now, counting cash and yelling at children who had vandalized the sign outside, they would probably only feel shame, the son who faked his own death and probably killed his own brother! How would Shermie even feel?

I got two sisters They both got misters Maybe this year  I’ll bring back a misses But I just can’t yet Understand it Every year I came home empty handed Ain’t it funny how they know I’ll have nothing there to show

Divorced twice and pushing seventy something, yet Shermie’s got two grandkids already. He wondered if Ford would have found anyone by now, his true love would probably be geometry or something if he hasn’t changed yet. If he’s even alive…

When it’s been a year Christmas is here Family is near to say My how things don’t change

Every single year the mystery shack throws a holiday party, and every single year it goes horribly wrong. But at least he could spend the holidays around Soos and Wendy, but even then they went home eventually. When they did, he was just a sad old man who will try to save his brother for eternity if he has too. But even then, he might run out of time.

Oh and what a year it’s been And now it’s finally here again The time of year that you fear But you know  That you don’t want it to end

Who knows, next year might be even more hectic, more children will destroy things, more weird monsters will appear. But it will never be the same without Ford. No matter what happens, he can’t give up on him yet, not when he has so little to lose.

It’s been a year Christmas is here Family is near to say Why don’t things just stay  The same

The party was finally over, and Stanley was left wondering what would’ve happened if they had stayed together. If he hadn’t of broken the machine, if they could still celebrate together like they did when they were little. After all, he really is just the screw up.

Thank you again for the request! Please send anymore you have! I AM OPEN TO CRITICISM! JUST PUT IT IN MY INBOX

[maddiescinema]

first, your services are very much appreciated and i hope you have a wonderful day

second, here's what i remember about the fic i'm looking for (and if it's not real wow my brain is so good at coming up with stories)

lando norris x reader

pretty sure reader is female

its (freelance?) photographer reader and i think also best friend reader

reader was hired by mclaren to do photography stuff for f1 and of the drivers, thats where lando and reader first met and became friends

im pretty sure its part of a (ongoing?) series

part smau part written

financial issues & mclaren not being able to hire reader all the time or smth like that (maybe) lead reader to accept a contract or whatever its called to photograph a football team

its one of england's/uk's football teams (im not well versed in football so bear with me) i think

i think the team may have been manchester city? and i think i remember a jack grealish or someone like that

anyways

reader goes there and does readers job and becomes accquianted with the team members

there's this one member who has a fuckboy/playboy reputation, and keeps bothering reader to go for dinner and eventually reader says yes bc he promises its just between friends

dinner goes fine until the end where he confides in reader that the team is going to let him go if he doesnt get his act together or so he believes

then he asks reader to pretend to be his girlfriend so that doesnt happen, reader says no, he threatens reader and her career, so she gives in and he says lets kiss in front of the paps so word gets out and they do bc theyre outside having this convo and there are paps around and an article is posted and it goes to social media

anyways that dude is an asshole

reader just ignores him and tries not to be with him and interact with him going back to work, and reader is feeling really alone bc lando isnt answering her calls and she deosnt really have anyone at the moment to vent and talk about this situation to, also the internet gets to her a bit i think

reader is camping out in an empty conference room getting stuff done when she goes to get a snack and maybe the bathroom to cry & try to call lando again?

when she comes back theres someone there and its jack grealish(?) (not the relationship forcing asshole) and shes like oh im sorry i must have forgot our meeting

hes like we had no meeting i just wanted to check up on you, bc ive noticed you been down lately and the whole dating thing

readers opens up and vents about being forced into the relationship

he shares that the team is either waiting or looking for a reason to let the asshole go bc his behaviour is bad and the players dont like him and dont get along with him

and he promises reader that if she ever needs anything that hes there for her and that she can go him

and she feels safe and happy and not alone anymore

and thats all i remember, and since im 94% sure that this is a series or at least part of a series, i might be mixing up parts

if you can find it thank you! if not thanks for trying!

p.s. why is it so hard to find things on tumblr??? ive tried to look for this but im also weak and give up to easily

first of all, thank uu 🫶🏻 i’m happy to help!!

second of all, I SWEAT I’VE READ SOMETHING LIKE THIS BEFORE, like i’m so sure but going back to find it is actually impossible 😭 i’ll try again tomorrow cause i know i’ve read this one BUT if anyone knows where to find it PLEASE let us know in the comments, my inbox or my dms!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

UPDATE:

“A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words” by @f1byjessie

(thank you SO much to the comment and the anons who helped find this fic!! all the love to you guys!!)

[gothushi]

Scenario: you the ex, come back. I feel like Charlie, Simon, & Nikolai will throughly ruine you so you can’t walk straight for days and you remember you belong to them. “Mine” “you are not leaving me” “everyone will know you’re mine “ “I’ll find you if you try”

Luke , Ernest, and Father Anthony are HELLA needy. A lot of “don’t ever leave me again “ “I’ll do anything you want”

Now Hook on the other hand (pun fully intended) he shows up in your living room. “Darling… you know how much I love chasing. “

i wish i could answer these with voice notes because im scrolling through my inbox and just talking my own ear off LMAOOO

i fully agree with this like i can see u leaving all of the boys except rob (dont worry will post the second ask after this) ITS SO FUNNY U NOT INCLUDING HIM BC UR RIGHT!!!!

im just gonna ramble bc i agree with all of these. i can see u leaving charlie/simon for like a similar reason they’re so focused on some job/simon’s focused on brendan so badly that they either unknowingly or on purpose are pushing you away. but eventually they come to their senses once they realize just how fucking empty and lonley they both feel. all three of them would totally be so possessive so feral like they’re desperate to never have u leave ever again. i can see nikolai just … not appreciating what he had until u left. maybe he was just being a dick overall and he just randomly notices ur not home .. spends forever trying to find u.

i feel like luke could be a similar situation to nikolai, he just wasn’t taking the relationship seriously and didn’t realize how bad it was getting for u till ur gone. (i cant see him avoiding/ignoring u talking to him abt it though, so it’d kinda be u just up and leaving w no warningbcu think he doesn’t care. say u got separated from ernst bc of the boat crash, once he’s rescued and is back home he is ALLLL OVER UUUU!!!! never wanting to be away from u, never ever ever. i feel like for anthony it’d be a mutual thing like he doesn’t think he deserves it nor is allowed to (i picture u guys close but not like… officially together yk. bc the thick undeniable heart burning tension is there and u both know u love each other) he has a convo with one of the ladies at the church and the older woman smacks him upside the head like ‘what is wrong with u????? go get ur woman!!!!’.

now hook… good pun btw, is definitely just fucking insane. but u like it. i rly like the entire premise of a poor reader, probs homeless and never rly having that security. u’d probs end up leaving bc u feel like a burden and ur shuddering in the cold city streets when he just pulls up beside u and snaps at u to get in…. u actually cant escape

[spookythesillyfella]

Thank you for everything you have done on this account I want you to know from my perspective that I care about you not just for your incredible artwork or your High Voltage AU.. but for who you are as a person. I’m not here to sugarcoat things or throw out empty compliments because I know it’s easy to think words like these are “overused” or “cliché” but honestly you’ve been someone who’s made me feel like it’s okay to open up and vent. You’ve seen me completely unload on my own blog and that sense of acceptance means more than I can express since at least when I feel my lowest to a breaking point on some other end there's another person who understands me somehow. I’m not saying we’re exactly the same since our lives and situations are clearly different but I can see a lot of your struggles, just as I’m sure you recognize some of mine. Ever since I started following you I’ll admit I’ve been nervous (still am) I worry I might say or do something wrong that could upset you or drive you away.. It’s a constant fear of making a bad impression but I really do wish I could get to know you better! I’d love to show up here more often, talk about your day, your interests, or anything you want to share. Even if you feel like you don’t stand out you’ve made a meaningful difference in my life and that’s something I’ll always appreciate. I know things are getting tough for everyone right now though I want to remind you that your life is valuable and you’re worth so much. I care about you deeply Spooky and I truly hope things start to feel better for you soon - 💌🩷 (You can figure out who this is by the emojis) P.S don't feel you need to EVER reply to this inbox or anything I send you. This isn't a message to tell you to "stop venting" either. In fact, Your venting again is what helped me realize I am allowed to express myself at times even if I do delete it all haha. Stay safe and I love you /p

oh . thank you deary

ill admit that i dont exactly have the capacity to answer thiz ask – my sad excuse of a vocabulary paired with my constant struggle to find the right wordz

i totally get why you're scared but . truthfully . and i mean every word . you could probably threaten my safety and id still love you incredibly much – you've genuinely helped me overcome a lot of my troublez . not just through your fantastic au . but through you just being a person

ive felt a little less hezitant talking about whatz bothering me on the internet – a sort of echo chamber doez feel nice to scream into every now and again to blow off steam – and . while you're right in saying that our strugglez are definitely different . i still feel genuine support whenever you talk about your own strugglez ; in my eyez . i see thiz az solidarity . i suppoze

and . though it might not eaze you . i do have to say that you shouldn't worry about making a bad impression around me – if anything . i have the same fear regarding all my friendz too ; wordz are so hard to work out and phrazing can be such a hassle . i certainly know that much hehe

itz quite alright if you can't bring yourself to come by more often – i don't expect people to show up in the first place – but i do want you to remember that im alwayz thinking about you ; you're such a wonderful friendsibling and talking to you makez me feel at eaze . so no matter where i go i alwayz have you in the back of my mind . much like the rest of my online siblingz

take care . and know that thiz too shall pass eventually – "I know it's storming now; that the puddles made up of your own tears are expanding. But you should remember that, once the rain is over, greener pastures will bloom. I hope you'll be there to see them blossoming, instead of remaining hung up in your room..."

[forlix]

hiii, it’s me again, 🪷 anonnie

I’m so glad you liked the song! I love giving song recs, and music and lit are so intertwined in my brain so I’m thinking of the two together all the time.

now… onto ‘empty my mind’… spoilers below:

SO GOOD 😭🫠

idek what this trope is called but I love when one characters is soo devoted and desperate to do anything for their lover. like, just give everything up completely and do anything for them. and I love it even more when the target of their affection is immediately aware of this dynamic and feels so protective instead of, like, taking advantage of it? which for sure you can see jisung assumes will eventually happen, and he feels like he deserves to be used and dropped. but reader treats him so well like ‘no, you’re not a bad person you’re literally just a human existing. you’re doing your best baby’ like UGH! SO GOOD!

and then they actually talk at the end and get that closure? like jisung feels safe enough to open up and reader understands him completely. and this silent reassurance that is fully being vocalized really convinces jisung that he does deserve to be loved. and like, he believes he’s being fixed too which is so much development. going from ‘I’ll do whatever you want, I feel like nothing so I’ll be thankful for anything you give me’ to ‘I’ll do whatever you want, because you make me feel like something’. also there is so much care put into the metaphor of the ghosts that manifest in his nightmares representing his mental health that I can’t get into it because I will literally CRY! how reader handles his mental state so tenderly just wrecks me 💗

also, love the scenes with felix and the other members. especially when jisung and reader leave the study group. I imagined felix thinking ‘yes, she can fix him’ the whole time he’s trying to bring them together. and I loved the smut, car sex is always sexy. not to mention how intent jisung is on convincing reader that he’s not gonna leave, and then later during the storm she assures him that she wants him to stay. like YES HE NEEDS TO KNOW THAT YOU WANT HIM FOR MORE THAN JUST SEX

sorry for the short essay but I really wanted to say it all. I think next time I will just dm you but I’m very shy about interacting with people 👉🏻👈🏻 anywayyy, byye, take care 🫶🏻

hello my light, my love, my lotus anon, pls accept my apology for replying to this so late i wanted to store it in my inbox until it finally sank in that it's REAL and you're real bc what the fuck. i can't believe u took the time to analyze "empty my mind" so deeply and so richly i wept reading this the first time and i'm weeping AGAIN typing this out. thank you, thank you, thank you

re: the connections between music and literature, you're SO real for that. for most of my writings (except for the drabbles), i include lil playlists in the description so y'all can listen to the songs i derived inspiration from while writing :') i would be so curious to know your thoughts on the ones i chose for "empty my mind"! or if u made any associations yourself 🎤 lmk my lyrical genius

and i seriously fell over myself reading your interpretation of their relationship because that's EXACTLY what i was going for, like, for real, you hit every single point and articulated it so much better than i could if i tried. i loved all of what you said, but especially the part where the reader embraces rather than takes advantage of him. i like to think he got the sense he could trust her from the moment they met, so he very cautiously continued to give himself to her bit by bit as they grew closer even though he was deathly afraid of doing so. and it was all worth it in the end bc she's wonderful for him and wonderful in general (can u tell i love my mcs)

and it's so interesting that you used the word "fixed." i had to tread carefully around their dynamic, in part because i didn't want it to seem like she was hoping to change anything about him (or yk those memes that are like "i can fix him" and it's about the most toxic person in the world? yeah that was not her thought process). the core of their love, the reason why they work, is because she doesn't see anything that has to be changed in the first place. he is fucking perfect to her as he comes. so i love the way you described it: it's him who wants to change, not for her but because of her, thanks to her, because she reminds him that he can.

taking an intermission to fangirl over you bc

going from ‘I’ll do whatever you want, I feel like nothing so I’ll be thankful for anything you give me’ to ‘I’ll do whatever you want, because you make me feel like something’

the way you PHRASED THIS HOLY FUCK. A BILLION TIMES YES. you picked up on their very essence and i'm pressing consensual kisses to your mind because you read them (and me) like an open book

ALSO!! ABOUT FELIX OMG. you're so right, ofc our wonderful, emotional, observant lix can see the clouds perpetually hanging over ji's head and knows mc will be able to help him scatter them. my fav matchmaker

NEVER, EVER apologize for sending me an essay my star. you genuinely have no idea how happy your ask made me like it's not an exaggeration to say my heart is floating within me rn. that you took apart my fic so tenderly and so perceptively not only enforced my love for writing as a whole but strengthened it manifold. i don't even have the words to thank you as vehemently as i want to but just know i'll be safekeeping your words for a very long time to come 🤍

i treasure you so fucking much. THANK YOU.

[gurokichi]

I COULDVE SWORN I SENT YOU SOMETHING… maybe i forgot to actually send it or sent it to someone else😭😭😭 which would lowkey be embarrassing because im not a regular anon on anyone elses blog… insert tiktok proud emoji

im glad to hear youre well!!! not so glad to hear your inbox was empty… or perhaps i am, that means more attention for me!!! i’m also doing well, been doodling a bunch,, i lloove doing art n im glad i found motivation to do it again!!

sometimes i wanna talk about my interests to you like so bad but i dont wanna expose my silly identity yet, i think we both appreciate a little chase and trying to figure out who i am!! but dont worry, i’ll eventually let you know if you don’t end up figuring it out yourself first! -🦌

Tumblr might’ve glitched or something, I did not get any asks from you. You probably did send it to me and Tumblr is just being wonky. Ehehehe, I’m honored to be the only blog you regularly anon for!! I think that you should keep it that way :3

“More attention for me” Well, yes, if you actually sent me asks /silly !! I’d love to see your art one day ^^ What’ve you been doodling recently?

NOOO, TALK ABOUT YOUR INTERESTS TO ME!!! PLEASEEE. I wanna get to know more about youuuu. I think that you’re overestimating my ability to find people… plus I’m too nervous to say anything. I’d be embarrassed to get it wrong (￣▽￣;) Besidesss, if you really do want me to attempt to find you, I gotta have things to go off of so that I know it’s you (^_−)−☆

[thediaryofanhonestman]

Hello, diary! Entry number 3. 01/06/2025 Today, I gave in to a friend’s persuasion and changed the color scheme on my phone to monochrome. He insists that this way the brain adapts and starts perceiving incoming information differently. Well, having embarked on the life of a researcher, I must live up to it, right? I don’t have certificates or medals to prove the importance of the experiments I come up with to anyone. So, I conduct them on myself. Diary, you probably don’t know this either, but in recent months, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to find common ground with the scientific world. I’ve written to various organizations, institutes… And you, perhaps, could answer me: “Did anyone at least reply?” “But the truth is, my inbox is empty. Sometimes overcoming language barriers is much easier than social and bureaucratic ones. But in every negative, there’s a positive. At least I haven’t yet been labeled as crazy. After all, in our world, it’s enough to look at familiar things from a slightly different angle — and that’s it. Clinics, doctors, injections. And eventually, the loss of oneself as a person. Still, we humans are so humane. I look at the open thread of dialogue in the GPT chat and realize how far my thoughts have drifted from studying society and consciousness. I used to be passionate about finding an answer. And now, even when I find it, I don’t know how to describe it. A vicious circle of questions that are so hard to answer. Maybe my social theory isn’t just an answer for society. It’s an answer for myself. But for now, I’m still searching for it. And once again, the confinement of the room, where I don’t know what to do next. I’m writing the third entry and starting to doubt: are they even necessary? They say that to get used to something and understand if it’s worth doing, the body needs 21 days. And how much time do I need? Another thread of my thoughts is connected to the idea of a program for retraining military personnel for civilian professions. I know there’s something like this in America. In the context of my country, it would be extremely beneficial. But I have the idea, I have the understanding, yet there’s no result. I only know how to speak, while our material world insists: Any idea is just an idea. Go and make it happen. That’s how we live, diary… Today, I played chess again. It’s nice that I’ve been able to do this more often lately. For me, chess is an art, not just a game with strict rules and opening theories. Once, I had a first-category rank in chess. But those times are now just memories, filled with a light sense of nostalgia. Even back then, I saw chess as an art that needed to be understood. But instead of understanding, I was offered to memorize openings and puzzles. Perhaps I was meant to come to this understanding on my own. Then and now are, of course, two completely different worlds. I’m considering moving you, diary, to Substack. Not just as a collection of entries, but as a place where anyone can follow the entire flow of my thoughts. I really hope that after years of obscurity and solitude, this work will reach someone and become a captivating story. But for now, you live on Medium. And the uncertainty worries me a little: I don’t know the platform’s rules. Could they block the diary without reason? There are more questions than answers… I’ll have to work hard to figure out how to convey information about you to this chaotic world. But I will remember the main thing: Only what I do shapes me as a person.

[billlydear]

BASIC BIOLOGY - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE) | PART TWO | PART THREE

word count: 4926 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: you're paired with billy for a biology project. you only visit his house once, but it's enough for you to understand why he doesn't want you to come over again. when he starts showing up more and more in your life, you realize that it's basic biology: you were made for him, and he was made for you.

Contents: gn!reader (let me know if i made a mistake on that anywhere!), the climax is a scene that's based on 2.8 (?) where billy finds out that max is missing, and neil shoves him into the closet and slaps him. it's not word-for-word, it's about a different scenario, but it's the same fight. please don't read this if it'll trigger you. fluff, angst, eventual happy ending.

A/N: i hope that you enjoy this! it's been a brainworm of mine for a while, and i'm thrilled to have the first part finished. let me know what you think! I honestly think that this could just be read as a one-shot, so don't let the 'part one' deter you 😅

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

To say that you’re not thrilled about your partner assignment for this biology project is an understatement. Billy Hargrove, said partner, is smoking out the window, and you’re not even sure if he’s heard that you’re partners yet. The most he gives you is a steady glance from across the room, but you think that he might have just felt you burning a hole in the side of his head with your imploring gaze. 

When you’re all released to plan with your partners he makes no move to stand. He only curls his lips tighter around the cigarette and sucks down smoke.

You bite the bullet and stand, clutching your assignment sheet in your hands that are growing sweaty with nerves.

“Hi,” You supply lamely, taking the seat next to him that’s been vacated by his previous seatmate, “I guess we’re partners, then.”

“I guess.” He drawls, tilting his head towards the window to let smoke billow from between his lips. “So, what, you wanna come to mine?”

You freeze. He’s more forward than you’d expected. “Uh,” You thumb through the notes you’d taken, the project rubric, “Like- like today? After school?”

“Yeah,” He hangs his arm out the window to snuff the cigarette out on the sil, “My folks won’t be home ‘til late. We’ll have time to work.”

“Okay,” You agree cautiously, glancing over at his empty rubric sheet, concerningly devoid of notes, “Uh, what’s your address?”

“I’ll just drive you,” He glances at the clock, showcasing three minutes to dismissal, “I’ve gotta take my stepsister home too, though, so we’ll pull into the middle school first.”

“Oh. Thank you,” You blink, fingers curling tight around your papers, “I’ll, uh- go get my stuff.”

You rush back to your seat to pack your bag with a strange haze over your thoughts. Everyone knew Billy, what he wanted, what he did. He was notoriously forward, and though he had been straight to the point, you hadn’t felt like... prey. Still, something tugged at the pit of your stomach, a warning to be careful.

The bell rings and you turn, finding a pair of worn boots in your line of sight. You glance up at the wearer, finding Billy already waiting for you.

“Uh, sorry,” You stammer, rushing to stand and subsequently hitting your head on the desk, “Fuck-!”

“Jesus,” Billy chuckles, and you’re worried you’ll analyze the sound and find components of mockery in it, “Careful.”

“It’s fine,” You hiss, but before you can rub at the spot you’d hit, Billy’s hand is there, mussing your hair and pushing you forwards, towards the door of the class. It’s something you’d do to your clumsy younger brother, and it feels odd coming from the chain smoking California kid everyone talks about.

“My stepsister’s out in twenty,” He informs you, a presence on your left as you walk out the front doors of the school, “So we’ve got, like, fifteen minutes to talk about our plan, if you want.”

“That’s good,” You hum, trailing after him to an impressively flashy car, “I think we should just draw everything. I know she said we could use clay, but that costs more, and I’ve already got colored pencils.”

“Fine by me,” He makes for the passenger door first, throwing it open and gesturing for you to get in, “You can put your bag in the back.”

When you’re seated, he shuts the door for you, and you’re oddly grateful for the gesture. It’s kind, and once more, out of character for the stereotypes you’ve heard about him. There’s a tense few seconds of silence in the camaro as he crosses to the other side, and your cheek finds its way between your teeth. But once he gets in and starts the car up, the stereo blares to life with a mixtape you’re sure he’s made himself.

“Sorry,” He grunts, reaching for the dial, “We can talk.”

“It’s fine,” You shake your head, “I don’t mind music.”

Though he cranks the dial back up, it’s not all the way, and the music becomes background noise to the shuffling of papers in your lap.

“So,” You start, thumbing through notes and ideas, “Like I said before, clay is difficult to work with, and messy, plus we’d have to model it and let it dry, and I think leaving clay unattended in my house would result in a disaster. And if we just draw it instead, they’re simple shapes and there’s nothing too complicated to draw, whereas clay would be harder to sculpt. And-”

“Okay, okay! Let’s just draw it,” Billy chuckles again, checking his rear-view mirrors for oncoming cars as he peels out of the parking lot, “If you wanna draw it then we’ll draw it.”

“Oh. Okay.” You sit back with a huff, unsure whether to be indignant because you were cut off or grateful that you seemed to be getting along.

“If you don’t have your colored pencils with you I’m sure my stepsister has some,” He theorizes, “But maybe you should ask her. If I ask her I’ll get one jammed into my eye.”

You let out a breathy laugh, “She’s, uh- spirited, then?”

“Mean-spirited.” Billy drawls, turning a bit harder than he should down a residential street on the way to the middle school, “She sucks.”

You’re sure that Billy wouldn’t be going out of his way to pick her up from school if she sucked. Or at least, if she sucked all the time. You’re well aware siblings have their feuds, but when she runs up to the car with a skateboard in her hands, you know he’s bluffing. If he really disliked her, she could have skated home. Now you know he’s softer than he lets on, but you keep it to yourself, smiling awkwardly up at her when she pulls open your door without looking first.

“Backseat, dipshit,” Billy scoffs, “I’ve got company.”

Company. It sounds like a dirty word, at least, coming from Billy who’s company typically consisted of girls spread eagle over the hood. But you reach for your seatbelt, “I can sit in the back, if you want?”

“No.” He pushes your hand away from the buckle, nudging it into your lap, “She’s younger and she’s annoying. Backseat, dipshit.”

With a huff she slams the door, and you’re suddenly not sure that you’ll avoid a colored pencil to the eye, either. Billy’s peeling out of the parking lot before she’s even buckled her seatbelt, and she sends him a nasty glare through the rearview mirror, one that you’re sure has the power to burn a hole through his head.

“So, uh,” You turn slightly in your seat, meeting eyes with the disgruntled middle schooler, “What’s your name?”

“Maxine.” Billy drawls, at the same time she snaps, “Max,”.

“Max?” You echo cautiously, and she snaps out of her glare at Billy to size you up. She seems relieved, almost taken aback that you’d listened to her instead of her stepbrother. She nods, and her lips curl in something that you’ll take as a smile, even if it’s barely perceptible.

“I think I’ve seen you around,” You muse, “You go to the arcade, right?”

“Yeah,” She nods, “You... you wear the green converse, right?”

“That’s me,” You laugh, raising your leg and lifting the hem of your pants to showcase the olive green sneakers.

“You know what shoes they wear?” Billy sneers from the front, glancing back at her through the mirror. 

Her face flushes as she ducks it down to stare at her lap, and you’re quick to swat gently at his shoulder, “Be nice!”

He looks at the hand you’d used bewilderedly, and Max bites back an amused smirk.

You’re nervous for a moment, afraid you’d cracked some ancient rift between the two, but Billy just clenches his jaw, shooting her another glare through the mirror and turning down a side street into a residential neighborhood.

Though he’s entered new territory, he doesn’t slow down. He’s going fast enough to pummel any unfortunate child playing in the street, and your stomach twists uneasily as he only speeds up.

“Billy,” Your voice is cautious, anxious even, “Can you... slow down? There’s too many kids here, it’s making me nervous.”

“I won’t hit anyone,” He assures you, though it does little to calm you, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Maybe you- don’t!” You tense as a toddler veers too close to the street where he’s playing with a ball on his front lawn, your heart racing as he wobbles safely back towards his house, “Please, Billy?”

He doesn’t grace you with a response, and honestly, you think you’re lucky he doesn’t snap at you like he does Max, but he eases up on the gas, finally within the speed limit as he curves through neighborhoods in pursuit of his own.

He pulls into their driveway with ease, and it makes you question how often his parents are gone. Surely their cars would take precedence over his in terms of parking, and you worry about him and Max being left alone more often than not. You’re so caught up in pondering the stability of their home life that you run straight into Billy’s back as he wrestles with his keys, stumbling backwards and apologizing bashfully.

“Clumsy,” He labels you, but it sounds more like a nickname than it does an insult. A mere observation, not a crack.

Max is off to her room before you even step over the threshold, and ignores Billy’s shouts of, “Maxine, we need colored pencils!”

She slams her door in response, and his shoulders slump.

“Shitbird.” He mutters, and an involuntary laugh slips from your lips. He looks back at you with a sly grin, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over a chair.

“Inventive,” You bend down to unlace your shoes, but Billy waves you off, so you keep them on. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“We’ve got a whole list of ‘em,” He boasts, and you admire the rare mention of the two of them as a duo instead of opponents, “I think her favorite is dickwad.”

“Oh, that’s even better,” You chuckle, “I’ll have to use that.”

“She usually pairs it with another insult,” He speaks as though he’s describing the plating process of a budding young chef, “Something like insufferable or shit-for-brains really gives it an extra kick.”

You fall into a comfortable silence while he points you to his room and while the rest of the house you can see seems lifeless and sterile, his room is definitely his. Posters on the walls, laundry on the floor, a discarded shirt, a belt, and- boxers, that you only notice as he kicks them into the depths of his closet. You try not to think about them as he tosses his bag on his bed, prompting you to do the same. You rifle through your papers again, watching as he arms himself with a single pencil.

“We should plan out what we’re drawing first,” You propose, hesitant to sit on his bed before he tells you that’s where you’re working. It feels too personal, you’d almost rather sit on the floor.”

“Okay,” He nods, taking the plunge and sitting on the bed with his back against the wall, “So we’re drawing…”

“Mitosis,” You freeze, glancing up at him apprehensively through your lashes, “Have you been paying attention in class?”

“I’ve been trying to dump enough ashes onto the flowers outside the window to kill them,” His head jerks upwards to look at you instead of your bag as he drawls sarcastically, and the earring in his left ear dangles, shining in the light streaming in from the windows. You heave a sigh with raised eyebrows, ducking your head to continue searching through your bag.

“Here’s a diagram,” You offer up a recent class handout, one that you’re sure he’d used to spit his gum out in, “This isn’t the order the steps are in, though. So we have to reorder them, then draw them all and write about them.”

“There’s only four,” He reasons, “That won’t take too long.”

You neglect to break the news to him that you’re a perfectionist. 

“You start with prophase,” You point to the corresponding picture, “And I’ll do metaphase. Then whoever finishes first can divide the last two.”

He nods once in acknowledgement, “I’ll get colored pencils from Max later. She won’t stab me if I offer her pizza first.”

You can’t blame him for his apprehension towards the redhead. She’s definitely fiery, but you have a sneaking suspicion she’s equally as sweet. You suppose siblings are always at each other’s throats, and Billy and Max are no exception. You get to work sketching out your diagram, and after it's formed, without a ruler to make straight lines, you attempt your own freehand ones. They’re supposed to be arrows, pointing to each part of the drawing to label them, but they come out lopsided and shaky. 

Billy glances up from his sketch when eraser shavings fly over it, peering concernedly at you as you nearly rub a hole through the paper with your eraser.

“Jesus,” He frowns, looking at the array of gray shavings on his comforter, “Are you trying to bury us?”

“Sorry!” You groan, sweeping the shavings away into your palm and dropping them into the trash can that he’s got by his nightstand, “I can’t get these lines straight.”

“Uh,” Billy straightens from where he’d been slouched against the wall, lost in his drawing, “I don’t think I have a ruler..”

“I figured,” You rub your eraser clean of pencil lead, “It’s fine, I can just-”

“Here,” He cuts you off, lunging for a record sleeve that he’s got propped on a milk crate by the foot of his bed, “You can trace it with this.”

You freeze with the sleek, stiff sleeve in your hands.

“Are you sure?” You glance cautiously at him, ghosting your fingers over the edges, “I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Don't, then.” He snorts, “Just trace the edge, you won’t get pencil on it.”

You carefully line the pencil up with the side of the sleeve, peering around his room once before tracing the line you need, “Do you have a record player?”

“Not anymore,” He shakes his head, his curls bouncing, “It got- uh, broken when we moved.”

You hum sympathetically, “That sucks. Maybe you can find a cheap one somewhere, like a yard sale, or something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” He glances up at you with a soft smile, but you don’t catch it, too immersed in your task. He takes the time to admire you curiously, his eyes tracing your features just like you do the arrow.

“There,” You breathe, handing the sleeve back to him once all of your lines have been drawn, “That’s perfect.”

“Mine’s done too,” He decides, tipping his folder so that you can see his final product, “That okay?”

“Looks good,” You nod, scanning the page for any possible mistakes, “That’s... A lot of detail. Wow.”

He chuckles, and you think it’s sheepishly, “Yeah. I draw fast, I guess.”

“I guess,” You parrot, “Okay, next?”

“Actually,” He slides the paper off of his lap, glancing at the clock on his wall, “It’s getting kind of late. If we want pizza delivery, we should call in now, that way it gets here before we get too hungry.”

“Oh!” You stiffen slightly, “Uh, I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t think I have money for pizza.”

“It’s fine,” He waves you off, “I got it. You’re probably the only reason I’m gonna pass this class anyways, I think I owe you more than two slices.”

“Bio’s hard,” You laugh lightly, “I think I’m doing worse in math, though.”

He groans, running a hand down his face, “Fucking math.”

“This unit is so confusing,” You gush, hearing the crunch of tires on gravel from somewhere outside, “I just can’t wrap my head around-”

“Quiet.” Billy demands, eyes wide.

“Uh- what?” You glance nervously at him. You’d started to let your guard down, to forget the rumors about Billy Hargrove, the basketball player with a whole lot of fire inside of him. You’d been comfortable on his bed, chatting about classes and drawing diagrams. But now, when he hears voices outside, he snaps.

“-parked in the damn driveway,” One grumbles, a man’s voice that makes Billy shoot out of his seat when it’s paired with heavy, thumping footsteps across the walkway.

Billy lunges for you, and you don’t have time to scream in shock before his hand, rough and large, slams itself over your mouth.

“Get in the closet,” He hisses, brow dipped in a ferocious frown, “Now!”

There’s no other way to describe how he moves you than manhandling. He grabs you tight by the arm with his free hand, dragging you up and off of the bed as you try fighting him on instinct. When you hear the front door open your brain catches up to you, and you rush to help his progress, not hinder it, so you stand from where you’d been limp in his arms and dart into the closet.

He’s barely able to slide the door shut on you before a series of knocks fall heavy on his door. They’re the type of knocks you’d only ever heard before in cop shows, the FBI banging on people’s doors ready to tackle them to the ground.

You’re petrified in the closet, squeezed between a series of shelves behind your back and the door pressed to your front. Your breathing is erratic, short, sharp intakes of breath warming your face as they hit the door in front of you and bounce right back.

“Yeah?” You hear Billy swing his door open, the hinges squeaking, “Oh, hi, dad.”

“Hi.” The same voice from before sounds, and it sends a shiver down your spine from how icy it is, “There’s a blue camaro parked in my spot. Any idea who’s that is?”

The question is sarcastic, of course, but your nose wrinkles at how unnecessary it is, not to mention condescending.”

“It’s-” Billy tries, but his dad cuts him off.

“It had better not be my son’s, whom I have told repeatedly not to park in the driveway. My driveway.”

“I’m sorry, dad.” Billy keeps his voice low, guilty, and you think it sounds earnest enough. Your breathing is calmer now, not normal but not panicked. Sure, it’ll be awkward listening to Billy get lectured by his dad, but you’d survive.

“The next time this happens,” Billy’s dad’s voice grows eerily venomous, “I will get your old baseball bat from our garage, and I will smash that car to bits, you understand? I don’t give a damn if you bought it, you’re parking it on my property and that means you’ll do it by my rules.”

“Yes, sir.” Billy recites, and your heart sinks at how impersonal their relationship seems. You’d had your concerns from the beginning, because everything about Billy’s home life seemed to indicate that it wasn’t the most conventional, but you pity the boy for his dad’s lack of human decency.

“Move it. And where’s Maxine?”

“She’s in her room,” Billy supplies readily, “She’s doing homework. And I was just about to order us pizza.”

You breathe easier knowing it’s over. That the danger has passed, that you’ll be out of the stuffy closet soon. But only silence ensues, there’s no acknowledgement from Billy’s dad. Not until-

“What?”

“There’s no spaghetti left,” Billy tries reasoning, “We finished it all last night. I just thought that pizza was-”

“Son,” Billy’s dad spits, “It is 6:30. That is well past our family’s dinnertime. And you haven’t fed your sister?”

“I was about to grab the phone, dad! To call the pizza place, and order so that they wouldn’t be later than seven. I know it’s later than we usually eat, I just thought that she’d tell me if she was getting hungry! And she hasn’t,” Billy huffs, “She’s been quiet since we got home from school.”

“You thought she’d tell you? Billy, it’s not her responsibility to run this household when we’re away, it’s yours. I’ve told you that time and time again. And she’s been quiet since you got her home from school? How do you know she’s even in her room? Do you? Have you checked on her?”

“No, dad,” Billy argues, “I haven’t checked on her. I’ve been doing my own homework, and you’re the one that left, so I don’t know why it’s my fault that-!���

You thought things were fine. Sure, it was an argument, but that’s all it was. Until it wasn’t. Until the door in front of you shakes, nearly snaps, as a colossal thud rattles its frame. You’re not sure how you managed to stay quiet, the door warping in its hinges and pressing tight against your front. You slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your newly-frantic breathing, eyes shut tight as tears bead in their corners.

“How dare you,” You hear that voice, the rough, hateful voice of Billy’s dad, only inches away from you. But he’s speaking to you, not away from you, and you come to the terrible realization that he’s slammed Billy into the closet door. You’d managed to keep up hope, imagining his stereo thrown across the room towards your location, but there’s no denying now that it’s Billy’s weight against your front, only a flimsy closet door between you.

“How dare you insinuate that this is my fault? How dare you tell me that I can’t leave my own home, and how dare you shirk your responsibilities to your sister. As if you’re not a grown man,” Billy’s dad spits, “You are more than capable of looking after a 13-year-old girl. You just choose not to, and I don’t know how else to get it through your head, Billy! This is your family, she is your sister, and when we are gone, you are her parent! She needs food, she needs attention, she needs care, she’s not a goldfish. Why don’t you care about her, Billy? Why do you keep acting like you are not a part of this family?”

There’s a moment of silence where Billy tries thinking of something to say. You use it to answer the question for yourself: because he isn’t. This isn’t a family, you realize, your chest still compressed by Billy’s weight, this is a broken home. The three of them, Billy’s dad, his stepmom, and his stepsister, they’re a family, but Billy isn’t. Not with the way they treat him, not with the things they expect of him. It’s no wonder he doesn’t like his family, because they really aren’t that.

It’s too late. Billy takes too long to answer (which you think is unfair with such a loaded question), and your stomach churns as you hear a sharp smack. You’re unfortunately certain that it hasn’t been Billy’s father on the receiving end, but your biology partner himself.

Thankfully, Billy’s dad doesn’t hear your gasp. Or maybe he does, but he thinks it’s Billy’s. Nevertheless, you know Billy hears it, and you hope that he takes some comfort in the fact that you’re still there, that you’re not selling him out and revealing yourself to get yourself out.

“You are her brother.” Billy’s dad breaks the silence, and you try matching your haggard breathing to Billy’s so that he doesn’t hear you, “You are responsible for her. And if you disobey me again, you will be punished. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” Billy mumbles, and you hate how thick his voice sounds in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Billy’s dad drawls, and you have the sudden urge to leap from the closet and punch him in the teeth, “I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“Yes.” Billy repeats, voice strong this time, “Sir.”

“Move your fucking car.” Billy’s dad spits, leaving him with another shove to Billy’s shoulders that pushes you even further back into the shelves. Your back is going to ache tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not while Billy stands petrified against his closet door.

The heavy footsteps recede, and there’s two pairs, a much lighter one there now, too. But Billy hasn’t moved, and you come to the sickening realization that Billy’s stepmom had been lingering in the doorway the entire time. Or just outside it. You must not have heard her light footfalls when they were so consumed by her husband’s earth-shaking ones. She had to have known what Billy’s dad was doing to him, why wouldn’t she stop him? Why wouldn’t she say anything?

You don’t have time to prepare for the closet door flying open, and for a split second, you’re afraid it’s Billy’s dad. But it’s not, it’s Billy, and he meets your eye for only a split second. It’s enough for him to notice the withheld tears in your eyes, and for you to notice his own. He gulps, swallowing a lump in his throat, and his eyes drop to the floor. There’s a glaring red mark on his cheek, one that looks like it stings.

“Climb out the window,” He mumbles, gruff and secretive, “Take your bag, it’s under my bed. Wait for me down the road, I’ll drive you home.”

You don’t have it in you to argue with him, not when he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. You creep past the open door carefully, even though the footsteps have receded, both pairs, down the hallway and into a different room. You don’t have a difficult time climbing out the window, and you shoulder your backpack after your feet are firmly on the ground. 

Billy shuts his window behind you, and you’re alone now, in the darkness.

The side of their house is somewhat overgrown, twigs and leaves snapping beneath your shoes as you trek off-property. You follow the path of the street until you’ve passed other houses, and don’t seem to be lingering near theirs. Then the roar of Billy’s car travels your way, and his headlights bathe your stiff form.

He’s gripping the wheel tightly as you open the door, and he doesn’t look at you as you get in. It’s awkward, tense, and you have to sit on your hands to stop yourself from fidgeting with them and setting him off.

The drive is quiet; he’s shut off his radio. He drives fast, and this time you don’t have the heart to stop him. You’re still worried, but you think you’ve figured out why he drives fast, and you’re not sure you blame him for it anymore. He’s controlling what he can, because he can’t control most things.

You’re only five minutes out from his place when you first speak up, clearing your throat experimentally beforehand, “Do you... wanna talk about it?”

You glance over at him subtly, watching his knuckles turn white on the wheel. 

“No.”

“Okay,” You breathe, and bite your tongue to stop from speaking for the rest of the ride.

He pulls into your driveway with a rough turn, and you’re sure he only knows which house is yours because he’d seen you getting the mail two weeks ago while he was cruising through your neighborhood. On a different occasion, you’d commend him for his memory, but it seems inappropriate now.

You unbuckle your seatbelt without prompting, careful not to annoy him. But you can’t stop yourself, before you shut the door you peer down at him. Of course, he doesn’t look at you.

“Billy,” You start, carefully, cautiously, “You don’t have to talk to me about it. Or- or anyone. But if you ever need a place to stay, a safe place for the night… you can come here.”

You think he’s going to yank the door shut himself and speed off. And you wouldn’t blame him, either. But to your surprise, his eyes shift, no longer on the road ahead but on you. He glances at you through the mirror, still too timid to meet your eyes unobscured, but his gaze shatters you. It’s broken itself, and inside of his pretty blue irises is a child screaming for help. Pain pools in his pupils and threatens to drip down his cheeks in tears you wish you could wipe away before they even start flowing. 

“I mean it,” You promise, “Anytime.”

He holds your gaze, lips parting to whisper shakily, “Thank you.”

You leave him with a soft smile, throwing your bag over your shoulder lightly. You shut the door and watch him leave, much slower and more controlled than when he’d peeled in. When he’s completely out of sight you turn with a sigh, trekking up your front steps and fumbling for your keys. It takes you a minute to get in the door because of how distracted you are, and in your frustration you slump against the wood, remembering the feeling of Billy’s closet door nearly choking you.

You’re shaken up, you can’t imagine how Billy feels. And there’s no telling how often his dad does this, after all, it barely took anything to set him off. You hope he’ll be okay for the night, and for his own safety you wish he’d stayed with you. You wish he’d parked his car on your driveway, without fear of anyone smashing it, and settled on your couch for the night. But he didn’t, and when you crawl into your bed that night, you hope he’s safe in his own.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Downfall (pt 2/2)

See? I didn’t lie, part 2 is here and it’s only...11:00PM Sunday night lol. Wow guys, this part got long (like 3.5k words long. Oops.) and *sappy*. But, you know what I love about snz fic? We always give the people what they want. You see a smoking gun in act 1 you best believe it’s going off in act 3. Lmao. Also, I’m sorry if there’s continuity/grammar/spelling errors, I’ll read it through again in the morning and fix them I just can’t do it tonight haha.

Anyway! Hope you guys like the second part.

cw: Male, colds, contagion, mess, there is a passing-out moment in here as well. Shit gets wild lol. This part is heavily inspired by 3 prompts in my inbox, so if you sent a prompt it’s probably featured here!

Downfall - Pt 2

When Elijah opened his eyes Friday morning, he nearly cried in relief; after three full days of feeling like death, he finally, finally felt like he was on the other side of this shit.

The past two days had been a nightmare. After Greyson had called him Tuesday night and told him that not one but two other managers had gone down, Elijah had to mentally prepare himself for a full week of work with one of the worst colds he’d ever endured. He’d walked into the kitchen Wednesday morning stuffed to the gills with dayquil, cough syrup, and ibuprofen; a combination he was sure was actively taking years off of his life. Greyson was already hard at work, despite the fact that Elijah knew he’d been at the restaurant until well after midnight the night before.

“He lives!” Greyson said, throwing his arms up as though Elijah had just scored the winning goal for their nonexistent soccer team. “You look god-awful, and I’m so glad you’re here!”

Elijah coughed out a laugh, and Greyson lead them both into the office. “So, here’s the deal,” Greyson said as they both sat. “I told both Matt and Mark to stay home til Saturday – just to make sure they don’t infect anyone else. I closed the books at 50 covers tonight and tomorrow – and I know, it’s barely enough to cover labor, but we’re in survival mode here, so don’t give me that look. I got in at six, most of my prep for the evening is done, so I figured when we open I can throw on a button down and help on the floor while you expo back here during the rush. Does that all work for you?”

The GM blinked, blindsided. He knew Greyson was good in a shit situation, but damn; the kid should’ve been a fighter pilot or an ER doctor. “Yeah,” Elijah said, “sounds great, Grey.”

So that’s what they’d done. Both Wednesday and Thursday. Elijah had holed up in the office until the servers needed him for preshift, and Greyson had prepared his cooks for two weird nights of Elijah expoing. Service had been moderately slow both evenings, which would’ve been great, if it hadn’t allowed Elijah to hyper-focus on his lingering symptoms and Greyson to flit and fret over him every time he stepped into the kitchen.

“Do you need anything, Lij? Water? Tea? Meds?” The constant stream of mother-henning had eventually worn on everyone, and even Greyson’s cooks had finally said, “Chef, he’s fine.”

But they had gotten through it. Elijah had sneezed and coughed and cursed his way through garnishing dishes, and Greyson had awkwardly talked to tables until finally the week was nearly over. And now it was Friday, one day til the big wedding, and Elijah was finally, finally feeling better.

Elijah walked in at 9AM to a thankfully-empty kitchen; he’d told Greyson the night before to sleep in, prepare himself for the weekend, take some Emergen-C and be absolutely sure he wasn’t going to succumb to the rot Elijah had brought in, but he was surprised that the chef had actually listened to him. The GM placed his things down in their empty office and took a breath; it was going to be okay. Mark and Matt would be back for the wedding, they would be relatively slow tonight, and Saturday would be perfect. Manifest it, Lij, he said to himself, sitting at the desk and turning the computer on. Manifest it.

After an hour or so of paperwork, Elijah heard the back doors open as Greyson let himself in. The GM pushed away from the computer and cracked his neck, anticipating the usual barrage of word vomit Greyson was wont to spew out the moment he walked into the restaurant. “Morning, Chef,” he called out before even seeing Greyson, marveling at how much clearer his voice was today. Fuck that fucking cold.

Greyson stepped into the office and silently saluted his boss, a Starbucks cup adorning each of his hands. “Hey, boss,” he said, placing one in front of Elijah and one next to his own computer. The chef didn’t sit down; instead, he took off his hoodie, grabbed a clean coat from the back of his chair, and buttoned it up before snagging his drink and heading into the kitchen. Elijah swung himself around in his chair, dumbstruck.

“That’s it?” he asked, watching Greyson unpack his knives a few feet away. “‘Hey, boss’? No big gameplan? No huddle to discuss the week’s insanity? No bombardment of questions regarding my health?” Greyson huffed out a laugh, but Elijah wasn’t having it. “You didn’t even tell me what you got me to drink,” he said, holding up the mystery cup.

Greyson raised an eyebrow at his boss and bit back a smile. “It’s a chai,” he said, bemused. Elijah threw his hands up, flustered.

“The amount that that doesn’t address 90% of my questions is truly amazing,” he said, taking a long sip of his drink, which – certainly wasn’t a chai. The hell was that?

“I don’t know what second-rate Starbucks you stopped at, Chef, but this is definitely not a chai,” Elijah said, pushing the cup towards the door. “What is that? It’s like...something lemon.”

Greyson colored a bit and picked up his own cup to look at the sticker. “Ah, fuck,” he mumbled, striding back into the office and switching their cups. “Sorry ’bout that. I switched the cups.”

“What is it?” Elijah asked, his face seemingly stuck in a mask of disgust. “So that I can remember to never order it.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “Have you ever ordered something from Starbucks that wasn’t a chai?” he asked, sipping his drink. Elijah shrugged and turned towards that computer again.

“Fair enough,” he said, waking the screen by shaking the mouse. He turned to Greyson again when the floorplan popped up on his screen. “Can we take a quick look at tonight together? Since Matt and Mark are still out? Do you think we should cut the covers off now, or go to 75?” Elijah squinted, his face nearly touching the screen in concentration. After a few moments of silence, he peeled himself away from the monitor to glance at the chef, who was – the fuck was he doing?

“The fuck are you doing?” Elijah asked, snapping Greyson out of his trance. The chef had been turned almost all the way around, facing the kitchen. Clearly he hadn’t heard a word Elijah said.

“Huh? Shit, sorry boss. Lost in thought,” Greyson said, turning back toward the GM. “Uhh… 75. Yeah, that looks good,” he finished, lamely. Elijah raised his eyebrows.

“What’s your problem today?” he asked, though not with malice. Greyson chuckled.

“Just got a lot on my mind, boss,” he said. “Big weekend. Week’s been long. I need to get back to prep, if that’s okay.” Elijah gave Greyson another look, but nodded after a moment and shooed him out. Greyson smiled at his boss, held his cup out in a false ‘cheers’. “I’ll be prepping in the back kitchen if you need me,” he said, and disappeared past the line into the back.

It wasn’t Elijah’s fault, he reasoned with himself later, that he hadn’t seen through the ruse. He’d just barely gotten over a monster of a cold; he was himself busy and stressed; it was early and he hadn’t had enough caffeine. He couldn’t be expected to decode what was wrong with Greyson every time the kid acted weird. However, he couldn’t help but kick himself when he finally realized – thirty minutes before service – what the weird-tasting drink the chef had gotten himself was. Aptly named, of course, and something Elijah himself had only had once before, courtesy of Greyson himself.

A medicine ball. Greyson had gotten himself a medicine ball.

***

He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep this up, but it certainly wasn’t going to be through tomorrow’s wedding.

Greyson sat down, fully clothed, on the toilet and put his head in his hands for the third time that day. The fact that Elijah hadn’t noticed at this point was a mix of pure dumb luck and more sudafed than a human person should ever in their life consume. He assumed the former would begin to run out soon, as the latter had hours ago.

“Huhh...HNGSTH! NTSH! ITZSH! Fuck – HNGTSZHUE! Goddamn it.”

Greyson pulled a length of toilet paper from the roll and blew his nose until it made him cough. He checked his watch as he threw the toilet paper into the trashcan next to him – 9:15PM. When he’d stepped into this bathroom, dodging Elijah as he locked the door, all but one of the tables had left. He’d go back to the line, he’d tell Leo, his grill cook who’d been there nearly as long as he had, to check that everyone had cleaned thoroughly, and he’d sneak out the back before Elijah could question him.

And then what? Greyson asked himself as he stood and washed his hands. You somehow make a miraculous recovery between now and tomorrow morning? Have you seen how this shit took down Elijah, Mark, and Matt?

Greyson ignored the voice in his head and dried his hands. He assumed Elijah hadn’t noticed because they were both wildly busy before service, and once service had started, they were both worn thin being the only managers in their departments for the third day in a row. Greyson had managed to keep the congestion out of his voice with the aforementioned sudafed, and he had taken his happy ass to the bathroom or out back to ‘smoke’ when he really needed to sneeze or cough all night. Elijah had definitely given him some looks through the evening, but nothing Greyson couldn’t brush off by pulling a ticket distractedly and not making eye contact.

Tomorrow, though? When Matt and Mark were both going to be back, and they were all going to be prepping their asses off for the wedding? He genuinely had no idea what he was going to do to keep them from noticing.

Greyson exited the bathroom, stealthily managing to avoid his boss as he slipped into the kitchen. He gathered his things, put Leo in charge, and was nearly out the door, nearly safe, when -

“Chef!” Elijah called behind him, making him freeze in his tracks just outside the back door. Fuck.

“Yeah, boss?” Greyson asked, turning to face Elijah and hoping he didn’t look like the garbage fire he felt. Elijah crossed his arms over his chest in the cold of the alleyway and motioned to Greyson’s entire being.

“You leaving?” he asked tapping his foot. Greyson managed a smile and lifted his backpack and knife bag a little for inspection.

“Is it obvious?” he asked, quietly clearing his throat to mask the gravel of his voice. Elijah didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Leo shutting down the line?” he asked. Greyson nodded, swallowing around a throat on fire.

“Yeah,” he said. “Did you uh…ndeed something from mbe?” Fuck.

Elijah gave Greyson a pointed look. “Grey,” he said, voice low. “If you’re sick, you need to tell me. Now.”

Greyson felt his cheeks redden, but he immediately shook his head. “I’mb good,” he said, cursing once again the congestion that had sneaked into his voice. “Promise. I gotta go, I’mb gonna mbiss mby train.” Without missing a beat, the chef turned around and headed towards the street, hoping his boss couldn’t see him stifle nearly ten sneezes into his fist as he walked.

This was not going to end well.

***

It was worse than Elijah could have even imagined.

When Elijah walked into the restaurant that morning, the first thing he did was text Greyson.

9:01AM

Hey. I’m here, is there anything you want me to pull out/start on before you get in?

9:01AM

Also, how are you feeling?

Normally, he’d get a response in moments; when Greyson wasn’t at work, the man was glued to his phone, playing some stupid game or messaging one of his fifty Bumble suitors he kept on the line at all times. I get bored, he often said to Elijah. One starts annoying me, BOOM! Onto the next.

Today, though, nearly twenty minutes passed before Elijah’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out immediately and couldn’t help but wince at the text the chef sent.

9:18AM

great. no. ill be there in 20.

Anyone who texted with Greyson more than once in their life knew that if he wasn’t being his multi-exclamation-point, constant-joke-and-lol self over text, he was probably close to death. Elijah typed out an ‘ok’ to the chef, before making a thread with Matt and Mark.

9:31AM

Elijah

Hey, guys. Just making sure you’re both on your way in. Greyson’s gonna be down bad. Need all hands on deck asap.

9:32AM

Mark

???? is he ok??? down bad in what way?

9:33AM

Matt

ya, coming now. figured chef would’ve gone down by now. should I bring anything?

9:34AM

Elijah

Just your stamina. Gonna be a long day. Thx.

9:34AM

Mark

no one answered my ?

im so confused

oh

OH

shit, I knew I got greyson sick. fuuuuuuuuck. sorry, boss :(

9:35AM

Elijah

All good. Inevitable. Let’s just get this day done.

Elijah clicked his phone off and sighed. He could go for a whiskey, or even just a long, drawn out scream about now, but a cigarette and a prayer would have to do him. Twelve hours until the wedding was over.

***

How Greyson managed to make it to work was anyone’s guess, him included.

The chef pushed through the back doors and before he could even get past the prep kitchen he was doubled over, sneezing into the sleeve of his hoodie.

“HhhIGSTZH-ue! HuhESHHH-ue! HRRTSCHZUE! NGTSHZUE! Christ, fuck,” Greyson muttered, wiping his nose on his sleeve for what he could only wish he could say was the first time that morning. He cleared his throat, which was for naught since he could barely speak, and continued his trudge into the main kitchen.

When Greyson had made it home last night, he told himself he’d be able to continue to hide his burgeoning illness. He thought maybe more medicine, some Vick’s, and a good night’s sleep would give him the upper hand against it. He’d told himself he was stronger than his coworkers, that his immune system wouldn’t fail him on one of the most important days of his career.

Oh, how the mighty will fall.

“HhNGTSHHZUE! ITSZH-uhh! Fuuuuck,” Greyson moaned, stumbling into the thankfully-empty office and yanking a handful of tissues from the box on the desk. He wiped his nose, unwilling to unleash the volley of sneezes he knew would be behind a nose blow, and pressed his palms into his eyes to try and relieve some of the pressure. Who the fuck gets a cold this fucking bad, Elijah, he wondered silently.

As if conjured, Greyson felt his phone buzz with a text from his boss.

10:07AM

Bless. That sounds fucking awful.

Could a guy not get a moment’s peace in this fucking place?

10:08AM

i should call the cdc’s biohazard unit on u for unleashing this shit onto us.

An admission, but what else was he supposed to do? Elijah could hear him in the dining room. The game was over. Greyson put his head back into his hands until he heard his boss’s footsteps click into the kitchen.

“...chef?” Elijah asked, and Greyson wearily lifted his head.

“Mornding,” Greyson croaked, before turning to the side to cough, crackly and painful-sounding, into his sleeve. He felt something get placed on the desk next to him, and when he finally was able to compose himself he saw it was a Starbucks cup. Greyson smiled, weary.

“Chai?” he asked, picking up the cup. Elijah huffed out a laugh.

“Something like that,” he said, moving to sit next to Greyson. “Now, hear me out. I think I have a gameplan.”

***

At five o’clock, Elijah finally went to rouse the man of the hour with a knock on the office door.

“Chef,” he said, trying to wake Greyson as gently as possible. “Grey. We need you for plate-up.” Greyson nodded blearily and, with the help of both Matt and Elijah, managed to get to his feet.

It had been an interesting day for sure. Elijah’s plan had been for Greyson to try and help with some of the more intricate parts of prep in the morning, and then lay down from noon until it was go time, but that had proved nearly impossible.

Greyson had managed to prep for about three minutes at a time before dissolving into nasty coughing fits that lasted minutes at a time, or absolutely relentless bouts of -

“HTSHH-ue! HRSHH-ue! Hhuhh…NGTSHZUE! ITSZHUE! Huhh-ETSHZCH-oo!”

“Christ, boss,” Matt said, attempting a laugh after a particularly intense fit of sneezes, “When you go down you really go – oh, fuck.” In teasing his boss, Matt nearly missed Greyson’s eyes rolling back into his head and his knees buckling as he lost consciousness for a moment. “ELIJAH!” Matt called, catching his boss and lowering him to the ground as gracefully as possible.

Once they’d managed to get Greyson back to a standing position, Elijah had decided it was too risky to let him continue to be...vertical. Greyson had laid out for Matt exactly what he needed him to do to finish preparing the food, and retreated to the blanket fort they had all heavily utilized this week for a sleep that more closely resembled a coma than anything restorative.

Matt, Elijah, and even Mark had managed to finish the prep Greyson had worked so hard on that week by four PM. Once they felt ready, the three of them gathered in front of the office to stare at the racked-out chef.

“Should we… ask him if everything looks okay?” Mark had asked, ringing his hands. Matt and Elijah exchanged a look before Elijah shook his head.

“I think… I think he’ll be okay with just about anything at this point,” Elijah said. The other two nodded, unwilling to take this precious moment of sleep away from the chef.

When the guests were all seated and ready for first courses, it was, of course, Elijah’s job to wake the sleeping bear. Greyson, ever the trooper, took his place at the pass and regarded the three of them with all the pride he could muster.

“Thangk you guys. Really,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Ndow. Let’s get this shit over w – HGSTHH-ue! Snrf. Guhh,” Greyson held tight to the granite counter top and pulled himself back to his full height.

“Let’s get this done,” he said, pulling out his tweezers. “And whend it’s over, I’mb ndot answering mby phone for a fuckigg week.”

They all managed a laugh. They all assumed their positions for plating and running food. This certainly wasn’t the glamorous job it was portrayed in the movies, but they did have something all that media never seemed to truly capture; they had each other, and this place that all of them thought of as not a second, but a true home.

Greyson cleared his throat as the first of the servers came through the doors, bearing labeled sheets with seat numbers. “Order in!” he called, and they all put their heads down and began their work.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

What is your fave smut scene in Control?

Excuse me???

You come into MY INBOX and ask me, of all the disgusting, depraved, obscene parts of Control, to somehow pick a FAVORITE?

Do we ask parents which child is their favorite??

Do we ask multiple pet owners which animal is their favorite???

DO WE ASK---

Oh wait no, sorry--I do have a favorite, I always have, and that favorite is, if you long-time readers remember the original chapter titles, the scene from "Tied."

For those who've forgotten or are new to the story, here's a little snippet of said chapter under the cut!

“Don’t give me that look, my love. You’re in this position because of you,” he says with a smirk.

“I’m sorry,” I say petulantly. To be fair, my tone isn’t exactly as apologetic as it had been last night, but I’ve also been tied to a bed for a few hours now, and I’m irritable. “How long are you going to keep me like this?”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Noah tells me lightly. “I’m in control here, not you.”

It’s always a battle of wills, at first—I have to push, it’s in my nature. We both know that eventually, he’ll break me. He always does. But it makes it more satisfying, more of a release, when I fight him first. It’s a little game—Noah tries to see how quickly he can get me to surrender, while I fight tooth and nail for every last second until I eventually give in.

“You must be hungry,” Noah coos, holding out a little bowl of fruit. “Would you like some?”

I glare at him. Case in point: I refuse to give up this last little bit of autonomy just to be difficult, and Noah will push and push until the thin layer of control I’m trying to exert collapses like a house of cards.

“I’m not,” I say flatly, although the assortment of plump berries is making my mouth water.

“You’re trying awfully hard to convince me that you don’t like this, but I can see the truth from here, sweetheart.”

I flush. I’m also not wearing any clothes, since Noah prefers me to sleep naked. He’s right—I can feel the wetness on my thighs that betrays my bratty attitude.

“If you’re not hungry, I can come back later. See how ready you are to behave for me then.”

“Whatever,” I mumble as Noah heads back out of the room.

“Color?” he asks when he gets to the doorway, breaking the façade for a moment.

I drop my gaze in humiliation. “Green,” I whisper. I don’t want to admit how wet this gets me, how much it turns me on.

Noah smiles. “That’s what I thought.” He winks at me, and I bite back a frustrated growl, slumping back down on the bed.

It must be closer to mid-morning, by the way the sun hits the windows, when my dozing is interrupted again by a soft sentence spoken from our bedroom doorway. I have no idea what time it actually is—there’s no clock in this room, and my phone is out of reach.

“Hello, my love.”

Noah’s lilt is gentle, teasing. I know this game: he’s wearing me down slowly, getting me to that space where I’m pliant and submissive and desperate for him. I smile, in spite of myself. He’s very good at it. “We’re looking a little less defiant, now, aren’t we?” he teases.

“Maybe, Sir,” I reply. Truthfully, I’m not really sure how I feel, right now. "I am a little hungry," I admit quietly.

Noah smiles triumphantly.

“See? So much easier if you give in,” he teases. “On your knees.”

I begrudgingly obey, moving from being slumped awkwardly against the headboard with my hands bound behind me to sitting on my knees as Noah had asked.

I justify my obedience to myself by saying it’s only to get the food. After that, I’ll go back to being defiant.

It doesn’t even sound convincing in my head.

Noah joins me on the bed and pops a blueberry into my mouth, letting his finger pull my lower lip down as he feeds it to me. He continues feeding me the berries until the bowl is empty.

“Isn’t that better?” Noah teases, condescendingly patting my cheek. When I don’t respond, he gently takes hold of my chin. “Isn’t it?” he repeats, more firmly.

“Yes, Sir.”

[cloudys-fics-and-art]

Hey! It’s CureDeity (sorry tumblr makes me ask from my main). I am here, in your inbox today, to rattle my little empty coin can and ask you to list some of your favorite beyblade fanfics! I’m going around asking a lot of people this, so feel free to ignore it if you want, but I thought this might be a good way for people to shout out some of the fanfic they really enjoy! Btw, if you can, I thought it would be helpful to list which site this fic was on so others could find it easier if they wanted to. Also, if you’ve written any fic (or have fic ideas, as we all know, imagining the same scene over and over again is the bread and butter of a writer), please also take this chance to have a massive, amazing ego and tell us which of your fics you're most proud of/is your favorite/etc.

Favorite MFB fics:

Boy was this not an easy question to answer. I’ve been in this fandom for a very long time, so I’ve read many MANY fanfics! In fact! The MFB fandom was my first fandom ever, it’s how I discovered fanfiction at age 13! Another funfact: many MANY fanfics I loved were deleted many years ago. So, I will go with what’s left!

Choosing my favorite fics was a toughie but I did my best to compile them in this answer! (I put links in all the titles, so you just click on them if you want to check them out!)

Life at the WBBA: Written by my lovely long time friend Liv aka Ollie! This fanfic is pretty much a lot of one-shots about the legendary bladers living at the WBBA, this fic eventually inspired my Adoption AU! So…If you want to see the OG, read this!

Almost Got 'Im: Also written by my beloved friend! Based on the iconic episode of Batman the Animated Series, the villains of the show reunite for a poker night while discussing how they almost beat Gingka. Spoilers: None of them did.

How to Make a Successful Match in Only Three Phases: This fanfic is something the lovely Liv actually wrote for me back in the day! As many of you know, I actually came up with the Yuki/Motti ship, and I’ll be honest, I thought I would get kicked out by the fandom. But instead Liv reached out to me and told me they had been inspired to write this thanks to one of my fics! This story is Benkei being a matchmaker, need I say more??

A Season Of Festivities: Now we go to another absolute legend! JuniperGentle aka Pippin! Their fanfics were always an absolute delight and this one is one of the most heartwarming ones! An anthology of MFB characters celebrating their winters holidays! Your fav character probably has a chapter, so give it a try!

Phosphorus: THIS FIC OMG! Okay, so, it’s still unfinished BUT GOSH IS IT GOOD! It’s an AU where Tithi is the one that follows Ryuuga around instead of Kenta!

Kenta's Imagination: This is one of the first fanfics in English I’ve ever read, and frankly, the concept of Kenta playing pretend is timeless!

 Underappreciated: Ever since the old fanfic days, Madoka would get the short end of the stick thanks to weirdos writing hate fics about her like there was no tomorrow. HOWEVER, there were a few good writers that wrote nice fics featuring her. I think this is my favorite, it’s simple, adorable, and it explores her character nicely!

Yu and Kenta's Scavenger Hunt: Literally what the title suggests! The sillies in a scavenger hunt!

The Best Nickname: Hands down THE BEST old fanfic that explores Yu’s and Tsubasa’s friendship. Tsubasa ponders about why he is the only one Yu never gave a nickname to! But little did he know, he has one. Yu is just secretive about it.

What Makes Her Different: Okay, so this one is a bit personal. This was the very first fanfic in English I read by myself without google translator. I was still struggling learning the language, but I loved the few things I understood about this fic, so I would read it over and over until I managed to fully understand it! It’s an abandoned fanfic (the writer had an incident with their old computer and could never finish it). It’s about Madoka suddenly getting sick and her friends taking care of her because she always looks out for them. It might be incomplete but it’s sweet!

As I was writing this list, I realized that most of the fics I like from AO3 are already on your fanfic list, so I decided to not add them. I hope you like this little list of recommendations!

To answer you another question, it is very hard to choose because I love most of the fics I’ve written.

However…I think I would have to go with five fanfics:

The Backdoor: I cannot express how much fun I had writing this. I loved coming up with the bits of Beyblade history, including details from Zero G, and having Yuki and Motti go through this little adventure! I am also pretty sure this was one of the first fics I wrote after I got back into the MFB fandom after many years. Thanks to a silly series of events on Tumblr, I met a lot of wonderful people in the fandom that I’m glad to have in my life!

So a Few Villain Kids Walk Into a Youth Group and...:

Writing this was such a challenge, but I am so happy I managed to finish it! I been having a lot of headcannons about the cult of Nemesis for a long time and this fic is just the tip of the iceberg! I loved writing Johannes dealing with group therapy and having to face the fact that he has friends.

 They Are My Boys:

When I wrote this fic I was a bit scared of sharing this AU with the world. But the fact that it was received so warmly just encouraged me to keep writing!

I'm Not Nice!:

So…Writing this one was a surprise even for me because I have a confession to make…I can’t stand Kyoya. But something about writing a fanfic with everyone dunking on him and his bad boy persona was so fun!

And finally…

The Drawbacks of Being Raised in an Isolated Temple:

So, writing this fic took me a lot of work because I had to talk to a lot of people about some questions I had to make this fic work, and the amazing support I got from those friends made me realize how much I love to write friendship and found family. I loved writing the friendships and dynamics in this fanfic and then the reception was so overwhelmingly positive, I was ecstatic!

There is another reason why this fic means a lot to me, it’s a bit personal but let’s just say that it brought something back to my life and I couldn’t be more thankful!

Thank you so much for this ask! I hope my answer was satisfying!

[andro-dino]

Hey! It’s CureDeity (sorry tumblr makes me ask from my main). I am here, in your inbox today, to rattle my little empty coin can and ask you to list some of your favorite beyblade fanfics! I’m going around asking a lot of people this, so feel free to ignore it if you want, but I thought this might be a good way for people to shout out some of the fanfic they really enjoy! Btw, if you can, I thought it would be helpful to list which site this fic was on so others could find it easier if they wanted to. Also, if you’ve written any fic (or have fic ideas, as we all know, imagining the same scene over and over again is the bread and butter of a writer), please also take this chance to have a massive, amazing ego and tell us which of your fics you're most proud of/is your favorite/etc.

WOOO LETS GO

I don’t read a ton of fics, mostly because I just don’t like reading as a whole and usually don’t have the energy for it, so I apologize if I skip over anyone

All of these are going to be on ao3 because I’ll die before I seriously venture into the wastelands (wattpad and ffnet)

So, starting with my own fics, tbh I tend to hate most of them immediately after I post them, but the two I’m most proud of still are A Confrontation and Hyoma’s Experience in Perpetual Loneliness. Both focus on characters with a lot of angst potential and I still really like how they came out. Confrontation made me genuinely upset while writing it so I was pretty dang confident in it, while Perpetual Loneliness explored a more bittersweet kind of feeling and the complexities of Hyoma’s attachment issues and ways of coping with loneliness in his life that i really like to develop. Also a shameless excuse to write soft domestic kyohyotsu, which is always a plus.

As for you deity, obviously you have a lot of bangers and carry the fanfic side of this fandom on your back, but a couple of my personal favorites from you are the one you made for me with a title too long for me to want to type it out and Ursa Minor. I love the gift fic for the super interesting story, wonderful interactions between starbreaker, emotional scenes that made me sob, and investment I felt in Faust and Zeo’s relationship, AND OBVS YOURE A FUCKING MADLAD FOR WRITING ME A 27K FIC WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU (I still have fanart I need to make of that btw I will get to it eventually I prommy). And Ursa Minor was one that I read early on getting into the fandom and it’s just really gentle and sweet and I liked it a lot. Obviously all your fics are bangers but those are my personal favs.

@lady-lazagna has so many bangers too it’s also hard to choose just a few. The first one that came to mind for me was her mayblade collection, which is just full of absolute bangers all the way through, and then I also remembered Warm Welcome Home because it was cute and made me laugh and I am indeed a sucker for tsujack content

OBVIOUSLY I can’t go without mentioning @heybeyby ‘s fdwdbg because as soon as shekel pitched the idea to me we talked about it for genuinely like 6 hours straight. Every time she brings up a new idea for it I start spinning around at rapid speeds and I am so excited to see how it takes the story in the future because it is gonna be so goddamn good.

One of my favorite fics ever of all time without a doubt is Irisviel101’s Chrysanthemum , which is probably obvious coming from me because it’s a takanosuke and sakyo centric fic, BUT IT IS SO GODDAMN GOOD AND CUTE AND FUNNY AND IT MAKES MY HEART EXPLODE EVERY TIME I READ IT AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH GOD ITS SO GOOD PLS READ IT IF YOU HAVENT

I also can’t go without mentioning Gesso by Arcylic because I absolutely adore how they wrote jack and Zeo together and it’s what made me absolutely fall in love with their friendship dynamic, and what originally inspired me to write Zeo’s Experience in Team Starbreaker

This one. This one goes without saying anything. I just totally adore it and I love the dynamics explored between the characters here.

There’s probably definitely some I’m forgetting here but these are a good couple I wanted to highlight

BUT ALSO.

I FORGOT ABOUT THIS UNTIL RECENTLY. I CANNOT REMEMBER WHEN THIS KYOYA/TSUBASA FIC WAS POSTED BUT I READ IT AGES AGO AND I ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT BUT I CANNOT FIND IT NOW. I HAVE NO IDEA WHO POSTED IT OR WHAT IT WAS CALLED AND ALL I HAVE OF IT IS THIS SCREENSHOT

I fucking loved this fic and I have no idea what happened to it

[seokjins-luigi]

just say goodnight n go | prologue

pairing ↠ jin x reader, fuckboy!jungkook x reader

genre ↠ college au | love triangle | strangers to lovers | slow burn | fluff, angst, smut | multi-chapter

word count ↠ 4.7k

18+ | warnings ↠ mentions of death, a little bit of jealousy, swearing, no sex in this part, but I'll keep the 18+, because there will be soon.

summary ↠ when your mother passes away, you go back to your college student life, only to find out the guy you liked (and were friends with benefits with) had a girlfriend now. trying to get over him and your mother’s passing, seokjin, the friend of a friend wants you to give him a chance. will you find your way back to yourself?

A/N  ↠ hi, y’all. this is the first time I’m writing, English isn’t my first language, my boyfriend hates fanfiction (so I had to write when he wasn’t around)... anyway, I had 1000 reasons not to right this. but I just needed to let it flow. this is it. it may be shitty, but I like it lol so I hope you enjoy it too.

so here’s a playlist for you to listen while you read :) feedback is always appreciated, my inbox is always open

You've been through the hardest week of your life. It was the type of week we all know it’s gonna come, eventually, but in your case, it came just too soon. You look at your reflection in the mirror close to the door and what you see is the sight of a broken person. Dark circles under your tired eyes show a worn out expression, the reflexes of the events happening in your life for the past eight months.

Yesterday, you buried your mother. Alone, except for the presence of your best friend, Jimin. You understood the absence of your other friends, after all, you used to live in a city that wasn’t exactly close to where you study. But your brother Namjoon’s absence, though, was a little harder to understand. You were the one who dealt with all the difficult things regarding your mother’s health, since you got that goddamn call from the hospital. And now you had to deal with the post mortem paperwork, burial, relative phone calls and everything else, again, all alone. 

He and your mom didn’t have the best of relationships, that’s true. He never wanted to come back home, and you understood that. After your parents’ divorce, she became a darker version of herself. She used to lash out on Joonie when things didn't go her way. And you understood his bitter feelings towards her. It has been like that since your father left. But not with you, though, she always treated you differently. She was kind to you, in her own manner. You never really knew why. Loving her was hard at times, but she was your mother. The one who stayed, unlike your father. The one who cried and laughed with you. The one who cooked you dinner. The one who drove you to the train station when you moved. Looking back, she has always been there. 

She always took care of everything and, honestly, looking at yourself now reminds you of her. Since Jimin got your text with the heartbreaking news, he has been by your side. He didn't even ask if you wanted him to come, he just came to be there with you. That’s the thing about Jimin, he’s always so tender and attentive. He’s always there. You hope someday you'll be able to repay everything he does for you.

Right now, standing in your mother’s empty apartment, you feel as empty as the room. This is the place you lived since you were little. You can not describe the feeling in words, it's overwhelming. You feel empty. You don't know what to do and how to react to things, what to say to people or how to respond to the hundreds of texts you gotten since yesterday. You feel the touch of a warm hand on your right shoulder and turn around to face Jimin.

“Sweetums… Shall we?”, he asks with a soft voice, a comforting expression in his eyes.

“Sure, let's go”, you say as you take one last look in the empty room where you grew up. 

“Go ahead and wait for me in the car, I’ll handle the last details with the realtor, don't worry”, he says as you two turn to leave the apartment and hands you his car keys.

“Don't worry, Chim, I got-”, not really allowing you to finish the sentence, he grabs your hand and places the car keys on its palm. Defeated, you smile weakly at your friend and head to his car.

Sitting on the passenger’s seat, you start thinking about your life from now on. Nothing would ever be the same again. You had an absent father, who never cared if you and your brother were sick, well, dead or alive. Your only family now was Namjoon. Namjoon and Namjoon alone meant home to you, now. 

At some point, Jimin opened the car door and gave you a reassuring smile. You were too lost in your own thoughts to notice he was ready to leave. He got in the car and turned the car keys. Now you were going back to the life you left behind to take care of your mom, eight months ago. College, your friends, Jungkook.

But how? Your mind wandered as the car ride made you fall asleep. Something you haven't been able to do properly for a couple of days.

You feel your shoulders being softly shaken. Squeezing your eyes open, you find Jimin alongside Namjoon babbling something to you. You still don’t really understand what they say, but you flash their way a delicate smile as you take your back off the passenger’s seat. You didn’t really notice, but you must have slept through the whole journey back.

Before you could say anything, you feel your brother’s arms around you, holding you tightly. You didn’t do much, just allowed him to hold you. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t…”, he whispers that in your ears, his voice is so low, you can barely listen.

You don’t really know how to respond to that. Yes, you were hurt, you were aching, but the pain in his voice showed a vulnerability he didn’t show to anyone else, except you. You know how he felt about your mom, how he resented her. How their relationship was complicated. It was his weight to carry now, you had your own, but the two of you could help each other every now and then. You had to. 

You managed to wrap your arms around him, in a way to show him you were listening and that you were there for him, as always. You would always be there for him. The two of you had much to talk about, but today you just wanted to comfort him and to be comforted by him.

“Joonie, I’d love to stay here, but my butt is numb. I’ve been sitting in the same position for two hours”.

He chuckles as he lets you go of his hug. You get out of Jimin’s car and stretch, still feeling the numbness in your butt. You look at your surroundings and recognize Eunjoo’s condo. You didn’t realize how much you missed being back until this point. Being back at your best friend’s place, with your other best friend and your brother, it was almost like things were normal after the eight months you went away and after every shit you have been through.

You had decided to stay at Eunjoo’s until classes returned, which she was more than happy to hear from you. She had moved in with her boyfriend Yoongi after you went away. He was a very nice dude, a little reclusive, but nice. You’d be crashing on their couch for some days, but it was ok, because 1- you missed your bf and 2- the two of you had been 8 months apart, you had sooo much to catch up with (and no phone calls could replace being physically together, let’s be honest).

In the meantime, while waiting for the beginning of the term in college, you and Namjoon were probably going to start looking for a place to rent for the two of you. Back in your hometown, you were able to arrange things and the paperwork (with Jimin’s help, thank God) and rented your mother’s apartment. It was a good apartment, so you wouldn’t be in financial trouble. And luckily, in order to keep you and Joonie away, your father had agreed to keep on paying your child’s support. Yeah, he’s an asshole, fuck him. What’s really important here is that you and Namjoon would be able to get by until your graduation.

The boys helped you with your luggage up to Eunjoo’s place. Both of them wanted to stay with you there, but you were more than quick to send them back to their frat house, promising you all would get together later on. You not only wanted, but needed some girl time with her.

As soon as you got to her door, you felt excited. Something you didn’t feel for a long, long time. You knock at her door and, a few moments later, she opens the door with a wide smile on her face. 

“Oh, it’s so good to see you, lovey!”, she pulls you into a tight hug. “How are you? I know it’s a stupid question given the circunstances, but…”

“Yeah, I’m…”, you look at her and her expression shows that you don’t need to worry about finishing that sentence. She understands, as she always has. 

“You know what? Come on in, I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate and we’ll watch 10 Things I Hate About You or whatever else you’d like to. I told Yoongi to go to Hoseok’s house so we could be alone today”.

And that’s exactly what the two of you do. You and your best friend spend the rest of the morning and afternoon on her couch, betweens sips of her famous hot chocolate, sobs and chuckles. 

As you got out of the shower, you hear your phone buzzing against Eunjoo’s sink. You dry your hands in the towel that wrapped your body and look at its screen.

[5:43 pm]  joonie: y/n

[5:43 pm]  joonie: what do you think of a little gathering here at the house?

[5:43 pm]  joonie: the guys want to see you

[5:43 pm] You: hmmm

[5:43 pm] You: ok, i guess 

[5:43 pm] joonie: it’s ok if you dont feel like it 

[5:44 pm] You: no, its ok

[5:44 pm] You: i think it will make me feel better being with friends 

[5:44 pm] joonie: i think so too

[5:44 pm] joonie: ok, then, see you in a few 

[5:44 pm] You: 💛

A part of you wanted to feel guilty for not staying home, feeling the sadness and the numbness your mom’s absence left behind. But the other part of you wanted to see friendly faces and be comforted by them. You decide to ignore the shitty part of yourself and start getting dressed to go to the boys’ frat house. You go through your luggage to find something other than the sweatshirt and the yoga pants you spent the day with. You decide to go for something simple, a shirt, a pair of jeans and your signature black converse.  

You open the door of Eunjoo’s room (where you kept your luggage, at first, but when Yoongi returned, you’d have to keep your stuff at the living room, alongside the couch where you’d be sleeping on), bumping into her in the corridor. Your shoulder hurts, but she seems not to worry about that. You find her with an already worried expression, looking at her phone as she fidgeted her fingers. She gives you a smile, probably trying to convince herself (more than to convince you) that she looked just fine. 

“Joo, Joonie just texted me-”

“Yeah, I know, I was talking to him too. What do you think?”, she stops for a second after looking at you. “Well, I think you’re even ready, right? I’ll hit the shower and we can go, then.” 

But she’s still standing in front of you, still fidgeting her fingers, looking at you with the same weird expression. Something’s off.

“What, woman?”, you ask her with an unsure voice.

“I didn’t want to do this now, but I’ll have to…”

“What is it, Joo? Something happened?”, you start to worry about her. “OH MY GOD! ARE YOU PREGNANT?”

“What? No… I-I need to tell you something”.

“You’re making me nervous, Eunjoo… What happened?”

“Ok, let’s do this... You’ve been away for eight months, right?”

“Yes?”, you look at her still trying to understand where she's coming from.

“While you were away, things… Well, they changed a little around here”, she says that as she makes exaggerated hand gestures. “There’s no easy way to say it, lovey, so I’m just gonna cut to the chase, ok?”.

“Ok...”, you respond, realizing she expects your feedback.

“JUNGKOOK HAS A GIRLFRIEND”, she screams, while looking at the ceiling.

Her words hit you like a bullet. You just stand there dumbfounded, as Eunjoo looks at you with an anxious expression.

“Oh”, and that is all you manage to say.

“Just ‘oh’?”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. You were still trying to make sense out of Eunjoo’s words. 

“What do you want me to say? We were never boyfriend and girlfriend, he can do whatever he wants” you say it and chuckle nervously, letting her words sink in. “Since when?”

“I think they’ve been together for 2 months, I’m not sure”.

“Why the fuck didn't you tell me this before? We text each other every day! Didn’t it occur to you that this is something I’d like to know beforehand?” 

“Y/n, you had enough on your plate already, I didn't want to make things worse for you”.

“There’s nothing on his Instagram, I checked it yesterday! What the fuck?!”

“I know, lovey… It fucking sucks. He sucks”.

“My life fucking sucks!”

“Don’t say that, lovey, things will get better. Fuck Jungkook!”

“Well, fuck me”.

Of fucking course you felt like shit. It was sucker punch kind of news. You and Jungkook had been friends with benefits in secret since your first year in college. He was a freshman at the same time as you were and you two instantly connected, both of you were into arts, especially cinema. You two spent a lot of time together, you took the same classes, studied together, hated the same professors and classmates. He loved photography and wanted to be a director. You also wanted to be a director, but he made you see the magic in being assistant director and you loved working on his projects. One thing leading to another, you two started hooking up, but no strings attached. 

Honestly, he was way out of your league, you were lucky he even looked at you. He was actually a dream. Super sweet, funny and to make matters worse, he was hot as hell. To make matters worse big time, he was a gym rat, so his body was chef’s kiss. And also he’s such a fucking talented singer. Like, he can really sing. It’s hard not to fall for him… Wait, did you say fall? Sorry, you mean, it’s hard not to be amazed by him. 

He was also a member of the fraternity Namjoon and Jimin belonged. Hence, he was friends with your friends and with your brother. That seemed to be the reason he was “scared of taking your relationship to the next level”, so you settled for just being secret friends with benefits. Of course, Eunjoo knew everything about it. She liked Jungkook, but she often said she didn't think settling for this “friends with benefits” shit was such a good idea. 

You two were “together” for a little more than a year, funny thing that in eight months he managed to find someone else and got himself into a relationship. Even funnier, it all happened behind your back, while you were out of town taking care of your sick mother. While you were away, he didn’t even text you. Occasionally, he sent you a funny meme or some shit. But he never texted you for real, like, to check how you were doing  and it was all you needed, really. You just wanted to know he cared. Now you know he didn’t and it hurted like hell. Losing your mother and then losing whatever the shit you had with Jungkook, to whom you were clearly attached to, was a nightmare.

Eunjoo is still looking at you, waiting for you to say something. You unintentionally frown and she notices, softly pulling you into a hug. In your best friends’ arms, you allow yourself to cry for, maybe, the hundredth time today. For a new reason, though. You try to say something, but you just babble unintelligible stuff.

“Don’t worry, lovey, I’m here for you”, she says as she caresses your hair softly. “Do you want to cancel the plans with the boys? I can call them and say I got period cramps or something”.

“N-No”, you manage to say as you sob. “I don’t even want to think about him today.”

“He’ll probably be there, y’know?”

“I’ll ignore him, whatever. If we stay home, the night will end up in tears and that’s not what I want”.

“Hey, sweetums!”, a smiling Jimin welcomes you and Eunjoo in the boys’ frat house with his usual amazing manners, even though the three of you were intimate friends.

And well, this was your brother’s house too, so you were used to being there all the time. 

Taehyung, another member of the fraternity was also home and seeing him was a breath of fresh air. He was always a nice person to be around, he’s always sweet and spirited. He was also an art hoe and you used to talk about it a lot whenever you got together (not very often, he was always on a date with someone, somewhere, the guy was cute af). 

Namjoon was also home and he was super worried about you, asking how you were feeling every 2 minutes. At first, you thought the “older brother mode” was cute, but now it started annoying the shit out of you. Maybe you were just taking your frustration out on your brother, because you know that any moment Jeon Jungkook is gonna come through the door and you’d have to see his stupid face. His beautiful stupid face. He’d probably bring his girlfriend along. And you weren't officially allowed to be mad or hurt, not in front of Namjoon and your friends, at least.

At least an hour had gone by and you hadn’t really noticed, too involved in this moment with your friends. Sharing laughs, jokes and rolling your eyes at your brother from time to time. At some point, the door swings open and through it walks in Yoongi, with his usual resting bitch face; a smiling Hoseok, aka Hobi, you were not really sure why the guys call him like that, but you do too. Hobi was also a member, but he moved out of the frat house, you were also not sure why.

Right after him, there was Jungkook (looking divine, as fucking always) and some other guy you didn't know. Your heart skips a beat and as soon as your gaze locks with Jungkook’s, a bittersweet feeling bursts into your stomach. 

His eyes were different. He knew he screwed up big time. Was he looking at you with… pity in his eyes? Or was it guilt? Is he fucking serious right now? Either way, screw that, you didn’t need that shit. You might be devastated right now, but you’d rather get hit by a fucking truck than letting him know that. You’ve spent too many years of your life working on your strong self for a guy to mess with you like this.

“Hello, sunshine!” Hobi greets you with open arms, inviting you into a hug, taking your attention away from Jungkook.

“Heeeey! I’ve missed you, Hobi”, you say as you wrap your arms around him. He gives a tight hug and it feels nice being in the arms of the people you love, the family you kinda chose for yourself.

“And how are you feeling?”, he asks, as he looks you in the eye. “Forget it, it’s a stupid question”, he states and laughs at himself.

“Yeah, honestly, I feel like shit”, you say that as you look unwittingly at your feet.

“We’re here for you”, he lifts your chin up with a delicate touch of his index finger and he says looking you in the eyes. “You have your brother. You have Eunjoo. You have us. You’re not alone, ok?”

You know that if you try to answer him, you’re gonna end up crying in front of everyone, so you just flash him your right thumb, smiling softly and he pats your head affectionately, smiling back at you. That’s the thing about Hobi, he called you “sunshine”, but actually, that’s exactly what he was. Whenever he walks into a room, he’s able to lighten up anyone’s mood. 

Right behind him, you see a very awkward Yoongi getting closer to you and then giving you a very uncomfortable hug, as you hear him say: “I’m sorry for what happened”. After that, he looks at Eunjoo and she smiles at him, like this was some type of rehearsed scenario (and you don't think it's unlikely to be just the case). 

After Yoongi, you know you can’t escape facing Jungkook. He comes over to you and you freeze. You couldn't believe how hot he looked with a fucking white oversized shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. Unfortunately, seeing him just made pretty clear to you how deep you were into your complicated past. The butterflies flying all over your stomach were there for a reason, that's for sure. Honestly, you could throw yourself at him then and there and you’d let him manhandle you as much as he wanted. 

But instead of that, you just stood in their living room and allowed him to wrap his arms around you in a friendly hug. My, my how you've missed his perfume. And his touch.

“Hey, beautiful. I’m sorry for your loss”, he whispers only for you to hear, lips close to your ear. You shiver faintly. He pulls away from the hug and holds both of your hands in his, looking you in the eyes. “How are you?”

“Well… as I told Hobi, I feel like shit” you let out a nervous chuckle, more related to you and him than to what happened to your mom. That's the effect this bastard had on you.

“I can only imagine… Again, I’m really sorry” he squeezes your hands in a reassuring way.

“Thanks, Jungkook. And how are you? Why didn't you bring your girlfriend? I’d love to meet her sometime”, you say that before you can give two thoughts about this sentence. 

You regret saying this the moment the words leave your mouth. Cool, now he knows you’re jealous. Eunjoo, who was sitting on the sofa right behind Jungkook, just widened her eyes and looked at you with a desperate expression, almost begging you to shut up. You just needed to throw a jab at him to get it out of your system. Jungkook looks at you with an awkward smile, barely looking at your eyes now.

“Oh, yeah… I-I’m good. Sure, yeah, I’m sure Seulki would love to meet you as well”, he pulls one of his hands away from yours and rubs his neck.

Seulki. You hated how he pronounced her name. 

“Why didn't you bring her today, man?” Namjoon asks his friend, completely unaware of the tension between the two of you.

“She was busy today, hyung. With her friends. Girl's night out and stuff”. 

“Maybe next time, right?”, you smile at Jungkook with the most plastic way you could. You know he knows you’re pissed (and hurt). And you’re... Still holding his hand. Honestly, why the fuck were you holding his hand? 

You pull your hand away from his hold in a soft movement as you turn to grab your wine glass on the coffee table, if there was anyone looking at you, they wouldn’t notice the tension. 

That’s when you notice there's a guy sitting right next to Yoongi, focusing on something he was showing him on his phone. Yes, the guy that walked in with the boys, you’d forgotten about him. You didn't notice it before, but his hair was fully bleached. Which is ironic, since bleached haired people are hard to ignore. Against all odds, he looked really good with this hairstyle. He was actually quite handsome, even more than Jungkook, whom you just left there standing, as you turned around focusing on your glass of wine and now, on this guy.

“Y/n, Yoongi has absolutely zero manners and didn't introduce you two”, Eunjoo says, as she stands up and gets closer to you. “This is Kim Seokjin, Yoongi’s former roommate”.

“Hi, Y/n, sorry to be an intruder here today, but Yoongi didn't want to leave me alone… been through some shit as well. Anyway, it’s nice to finally meet you, Eunjoo talks so much about you I feel like I know you already”, he also gets on his feet and puts a hand on one of your shoulders, tapping it lightly. “I’m sorry for your loss”.

He’s nice. His touch feels nice.

“Thanks”, it must be the tenth time you’ve had to say this to someone tonight, you wish people would just stop bringing it up all the time. You just flash him a faint smile. “I hope you’ve heard good things… I’ve heard a lot about you as well, Yoongi’s best friend, right? Also, bold hairstyle, I like it”.

You just needed to change the subject. About Seokjin’s hair, well… You really meant it.

“Oh”, he looks surprised to hear that and he lets out a loud chuckle, sounding more like a windshield wiper than a human being. You end up smiling as well. “Really? Do you like it? You are the only person, so far... When my mom saw it, she almost fainted”.

Cute, did he show his hairstyle to his mom?

“I liked it too”, said Yoongi as he shrugged.

“Yeah? But she told me first and she just met me, which makes you an ass”.

Yoongi just raises his eyebrows and looks at Seokjin with his resting bitch face as his friend laughs again with his kinda cute, kinda obnoxious loud laugh.

And that's pretty much how your evening goes, actually, with your friends helping you carry the weight of the loss of your mother, by simply being there with and for you. You haven't felt this relaxed in months. With them, right then and there, you could be and have fun again. Be the old Y/n. It was refreshing, even in the situation you found yourself in. 

As always, Hobi lightens up the mood of the room, but you couldn't help but notice how fun Seokjin is as well. Which is funny, because he was the complete opposite of Yoongi. They say opposites attract, don’t they? It must be true. You and Eunjoo weren’t really opposites, though, neither were you and Jimin… Maybe this rule doesn't apply to you.

Your normal self would kill Eunjoo for introducing you and Seokjin only at this point of your friendship. He was amusing and really good looking. But you do remember her mentioning he had a girlfriend back then. Was he single now? It's none of your business, anyway. You weren't ready for that right now.

And there’s Jungkook. 

You can't help but notice he seems a little off today. He’s way too quiet and you are sure you can feel his gaze burning the back of your neck every time you’re not looking. And even when you two locked your eyes, he’d stare. Well, fuck him and his puppet eyes. He had no right to look at you like this. 

“Earth to Y/n!” Namjoon shouts at you and waves his hand in front of your eyes. “Since I know you zoned out, I won't even ask if you heard me… Can you please go get the last wine bottle in the fridge? Your turn now”.

“Last one already? Ugh!”, you say rolling your eyes.

“Do you want to drink some more? We can go out and buy more wine, right, hyung? There’s always a convenience store somewhere”, Jimin asks as he grabs your hand, to direct your attention to him. Bless his heart, this man is always so sweet.

“No, honey, I’m ok”, you take a look at the bottles piled up by the coffee table and laugh, squeezing his hand affectionately. “Also… It’s been eight bottles already, I’m good. I’ll go get the last one”.

As soon as you get on your feet, you realize the amount of alcohol present in your veins was a little higher than you thought. You feel woozy and your feet feel heavy, so you make your way to the boys’ kitchen stumbling a bit. As much as you know this house like you lived here, you took your while to cross the kitchen door. You grab the fridge door handle and suddenly a hand is placed on top of yours. A tattooed hand you know very well.

Ch 01 ⋙