#haven’t a lot of people been getting sick in the past few weeks?

[solitary-star]

A little shitpost for Cryptid Sightings chapter 13 lmao

If only they could communicate why they left. But alas, that probably would have caused much bigger problems

@naffeclipse here ya go <3

[maddie7writes]

EXS AND OHS

summary : y/n and harry are recently engaged, but in y/n’s line of work, she runs into lots of his exs and their not all happy for the couple

warnings : just bitter people

harry’s dating history wasn’t exactly a secret, but the list of exs would come to a hault, as the 50,000 dollar diamond sat on y/n’s ring finger with pride. but y/n wasn’t exactly a nobody, she had two vouge covers and three world tours under her belt along with opening and closing fashion week malin, paris, and new york, and not to mention several blockbuster movies.

she was kind of a big deal.

but in her line of work, she had lots of run ins with her loves exs, and they weren’t always pleasant.

—

y/n was booked for victorias secrets comeback show, and she was a nervous wreck. her strict diet made harry worried sick, and her coworkers were starting to worry y/n.

“and you’re sure you want to come? i understand if you don’t—.” “—y/n i love you. i’m goin’ to be at everything for the rest of your life. even if my ex is there.” he assured with a kiss to her forehead. she sighed, and a week later found herself in hair and makeup getting ready to strut out like she was on top of the world.

“make sure to flash that ring okay? it’s been on covers for the past month.” her agent said, as she stared down the poor hair and makeup crew. y/n heard a distant scoff in the background but she chose to ignore it. “i thought for the show it had to come off?” y/n asked, she didn’t exactly want to part with it but she didn’t want to break any rules. “not when the one who gave it to you is harry styles. trust me, the show will be memorable because of the ring.” her agent scoffed with a few taps to her phone then back to insane staring.

just then, the busty, perfectly thin blonde, with small bronze chrome wings came walking around in lingerie. “the reason he never proposed to me is because his taste in rings never met my standards.” camllie gossiped to a fresh faced girl, clearly new-ish to the modeling world. y/n rolled her eyes and kept her thoughts to her self.

when y/n got out of hair and makeup she was draped in gold lingerie with diamonds dripping from the bra. it was for their anniversary line, and the bralette would only be sold to select clientele. the matching panties were gold as the metal brushed the modesty garment she wore. then large gold wings were applied, weighing less then she has anticipated.

“she’ll open, then jenner and rowe will follow ten paces behind, wait at the top of the runway and walk back before them.” a manager explained to y/n and her agent. y/n nodded before being moved to were she was directed, greeting kendall with a smile and hug.

“i haven’t seen you in forever!” kendall smiled and embraced her, the two went on a brand trip together before she got engaged and at the start of her and harry’s relationship and ended up sipping on margaritas and gossiping on a yacht the whole time. privileged and elite? sure, but they had a great time.

“i know, we have to do a trip just us.” y/n smiled, kendall was already grabbing her hand to see the ring. “god! he’s always had good taste but y/n this is gorgeous.” she gasped and looked between the ring and y/n. camille scoffed beside her. “please, the diamond has a blue tint. i doubt it’s even real.” camille rolled her eyes.

“it’s tinted blue because he chose to not stain it. he went water mining when we were in bali, someone helped him find it, and he chose to not stain it.” y/n clarified, just like that the lights cut and ariana grandes unmistakable vocals of dangerous woman was heard, y/n was counted off and she strutted out.

—

y/n would definitely say her least favorite job was acting. there was so much drama in almost every romance movie she’s filmed, so when she was casted as gwen for the fourth spider-man movie to bring a love triangle into poor spider-man’s life, she was excited that it would be an action movie even if she was playing a love interest.

that was of course until she figured out who would be working on the movie with her.

olivia wilde.

y/n tried to remain professional, tho it was difficult with tom seeing as he was so giggly about everything, and zendya was laughing about how forced tom looked. everything was more natural with tom and zendya tho, so to switch between his girlfriend and his friend must have been weird for tom, so y/n tried to keep that in mind and remind her it wasn’t her fault the scenes weren’t working the way she wanted them to.

however one of the directors did not agree.

“y/n, can you step off set for a moment.” olivia’s voice sounded, tom looked confused as did y/n before she stepped off set as she was asked and followed oliva nervously.

“is there an issue?” y/n asked. oliva scoffed, “of course there is. this scene should have taken four takes, max. we have over forty of you and tom laughing. if you can’t play a love interest we will have to find someone who can.” she scolded, y/n was slightly offended.

two actors that have never worked together, taking on a role in a movie where they’re meant to be navigating love together, is not easy. and their first kissing scene might take a few try’s, but that’s not enough to threaten y/n’s contract over.

“unfortunately you might want to check the contract marvel signed, this is not cause for termination, and you cannot terminate my contract period. but if you would like to submit a claim that i am unable to preform my required task, i will happily take that battle with management. i really don’t want to waste anyone’s time so should i head back to set or?” y/n looked at oliva innocently with a smirk, brushing her hair back so her ring caught the light.

“watch you back, l/n.”

“styles. but close.”

safe to say y/n reported that threat and oliva wasn’t heard from again.

—

“you look absolutely divine.” harry came up behind her, kissing the exposed skin on her neck from her half slicked wave, old hollywood hairstyle. y/n laughed as she looked at them in the mirror. harry, in his colorful sparkly patch work jumpsuit, and her in her all black,

a-symmetrical neckline of the all black floor length dress she wore. their two personalities showing on their faces. she was so excited for tonight, she had a good feeling about harry’s changes of the trophy.

“you ready to sweep tonight?” she asked, he blushed. “don’t jinx me, the grammys don’t tend to like me.” he said in a hushed voice, y/n rolled her eyes and kissed her husbands cheek deeply. “not this year. i can feel it.”

her words ended up being true, with harry’s complete sweep. he was overcome with emotion, and y/n sat with him through all of it. holding his hand and even kissing him when he induced it, which was rare seeing as he hated pda especially when cameras were around.

they had plans to skip the after party and go get a pizza with the band and team, then go home and celebrate like old people with sleep. however their plans were put to a hault when taylor swift approached. y/n, ever the swiftie, was sure she was about to pass out as she squeezed her fiancés hand.

“congratulations harry.” she smiled and hugged him briefly before turning back to y/n. “and your performance was amazing, i had no idea your range was so good?” taylor said, y/n’s eyes went wide and she nodded. “oh yeah- yeah thanks.” she tried to laugh it off and leaned into harry’s comforting touch, he tried to hold back a laugh and taylor could tell.

“i have a few ideas and i want you to be a part of it, here’s my number— new number—.” she glanced at harry. “—and call me, so we can start scheming.” she winked at y/n, who was definitely dead. “congrats again harry.” she patted his shoulder before turning around and going to find her other friends.

“holy shit.” y/n whispered as she clutched taylor swifts number. harry chuckled and kissed her, “we can call her in the morning yeah? pizza and sleep okay?” he said, only to be welcomed with a large kiss and a i love you.

four months later, here y/n was, doing her one night only with taylor fucking swift.

harry was sitting in the 1989 friends and family box, with gigi, zayne, and their daughter as they caught up. gigi made sure to comment on how harry’s all access pass said ‘STYLE MUSE’ instead of harry styles.

the concert was perfect, everything was amazing. after all, taylor was considered the one of the best performers of all time. then as she stayed on stage after her two surprise songs, fans cheered even louder than usual.

“i actually have something i want to give you guys.” fans bracelets began flashing blue as screams could almost shatter the stadium, taylor laughed.

“i think you guys noticed i skipped style tonight.” she smirked, louder screams were heard and y/n stood backstage in her light blue wide legged pants, and white satin top. waiting nervously for her cue as they adjusted her headset and in ear microphone.

“i also want to throw in just one more surprise song, just for you guys!l she said excitedly, but didn’t wait for the crowd to quiet as she used the mic to talk over them. “please welcome miss y/n styles!” she screamed, and the stadium screamed back as the beat to style began to play.

harry recorded like a proud husband and sang along to every word as he watched y/n dance around on stage, in her element to a song he inspired.

“you got that long hair slick back white t-shirt.” both the girls flicked part of their hair over to imitate harry back in one direction, and ran a hand from their neck down to their pelvis as they sung, then tossed one shoulder and strutted down the diamond like models. which y/n was, harry thought to himself.

style passed, the loudest cheer in the whole room came from harry. so happy to see the woman he loved getting to work with her idol and be so happy doing it.

“i think there’s one more that goes to perfectly with us, don’t you think taylor?” y/n asked, fighting back the happy tears in her eyes. taylor bit back a smile and nodded, “what do you think Los Angeles?” she asked, they screamed. and the beat to i think he knows began to play.

the girls sang and danced along with the crowd, harry didn’t know this song very well so he was hyper focused on making sure to get all of y/n’s performance while also watching her.

“he’s got that boyish look that i like in a man.” y/n sung, and stopped dancing as she looked at taylor.

“i am an architect i’m drawing up the plans.” taylor copied the movements.

“he’s so obsessed with me and boy i understand.” y/n flipped her hair jokingly, making sure to flash the ring before both girls turned to face each other taylor grabbing y/n’s hand to look at the ring before screaming the line; “boy i understand!”

harry’s heart was skipping around 13th avenue.

[juyeonszn]

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (PT. 2)

PAIRING kevin moon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.60k

GENRES angst ﹒little bit of fluff ﹒little bit of smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader is better than me cause i would not let kevin do all the shit he’s done 😭, ANYWAY i digress, this part is very reader-centric — whereas part one is very kevin-centric, inner turmoil goes absolutely crazy, most of this fic is reader putting kevin in his place and him realizing how big of an asshole he truly is, mentions of injury (past tense), mentions of insecurity, lots of arguing, reader cries at one point or another, the smut places a very minimal role in this, but unprotected sex, public sex (the auditorium dressing room), no foreplay but wtv we fall like soldiers in battle, pussy job lowkey (high key…), creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY it wasn’t like you and kevin hated each other. in fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

MORE oh my god. it’s finally fucking here. A MONTH, 2 SICKNESSES AND MANY MANY STRESSFUL NIGHTS LATER— part two of princess and the pauper is here!!! i’m so sorry to those of u who have been itching and waiting on me to get ‘er done,,, it’s been an ordeal to say the least, and while it’s nearing the two month mark since the black out or back out collab was announced, SHE FINALLY FINISHED!!! for once i saw something through omg i can sleep peacefully and work on my other wips without guilt now… 😭 ALSO THANK U SO MUCH MAYA @/kimsohn FOR PUSHING ME THROUGH THIS and for making me thug it out bc without u it definitely would’ve taken much longer to finish 💔 please dont forget to read part one and the other fics in the series if u haven’t!! both are linked below! and as always, pls reblog if u enjoyed &lt;3

PART ONE | SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr @sunwooverse @kimsohn

TAGLIST @millksea @deobibbang @deobi0412

Never in your life have you felt so… Confused.

It wasn’t just confusion that settled deep in the pit of your stomach. There was a sharp pain there too, like someone stabbed you and twisted the knife. That was probably the best way to describe what you were feeling. You were bleeding out, and no one was coming to save you.

Kevin wasn’t answering your calls. He wasn’t answering your texts. He ran out of the lecture hall as soon as class was over, never giving you a moment to speak to him. It was making you nervous.

You still had half of a dance to choreograph and a fuck ton of pressure riding on your back. After the last performance you and him did together, you’d have a lot of eyes on you. It most definitely wasn’t your fault that he dropped you. How many people willingly want to acquire a broken ankle? The crutches were a bitch to maneuver around with. But like every single thing that’s happened in the three years you’ve known Kevin Moon, he’s managed to place the blame on you like it was.

It was crucial that you make amends with him even if it was momentarily. Your final grades were dependent on your performance. If he couldn’t get his shit together for at least that, he was a lost cause in your mind. Not even your professor would be able to refute that fact. Actually, nobody would be able to refute that fact.

Your lips form an O as you blow the steam away from your coffee, pulling out your phone to try Kevin’s phone once again. The line rings a few times before going straight to voicemail like it has the past couple weeks. You kiss your teeth, tying your sweater around your waist as you slump in your chair. The baristas at the campus cafe were probably sick of seeing you sitting in the same high-top counter spot since the incident with Kevin in the studio.

“Y/N?”

Ji Changmin appears beside you and you click your phone off, so he wouldn’t see his friend’s contact on the screen. You give the Early Childhood Dev major a weak smile.

“Changmin! What’s up? How are you and your girlfriend?” You hope he can’t recognize the distress written all over your features. You highly doubt it, though. You can feel the wrinkles pulling at your skin.

“We’re good! How’s the showcase performance going with Kev?” He asks like he knows something you don’t. When your lips fall to a thin line, an all too familiar grimace, he sighs a knowing sigh. “Do I have to smack some sense into him?”

“Not gonna lie, yeah, you do. He’s being really fucking difficult and like half of our dance is unfinished. I can’t even get a hold of him, so I’m starting to lose my patience.” You express your annoyance. The border between complacency and free-will was a lot slimmer than one might think. For example; your feelings when it comes to Kevin Moon.

You don’t expect to get a returning call later that night when you’re washing dishes after dinner.

In fact, you don’t even hear it at first, too absorbed in scrubbing the staining out of your bowl. It’s when your roommate yells out to you, that you snap out of your reverie, albeit dazedly. You dry your hands on a nearby tea towel, hitting the green answer button without a second glance at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Your heart catches in your throat. You recognize the owner of the voice practically by the first breath into the receiver alone. It’s actually kind of unhealthy how quickly it took to realize who was on the other end. You swallow heavily, praying he doesn’t hear the gulp.

“In the latter part of the afternoon, I believe. Why?” You try not to sound hopeful. That’s one thing you’ve learned being in the same vicinity as Kevin Moon. You could never be too expecting, because it would only lead to disappointment. And you’d dealt with enough of that the past few years.

“We need to finish this fuck ass choreography,” he grunts, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue. “I’ll meet you in the same studio at 4.”

He doesn’t let you get anything else in, hanging up swiftly. You deflate as you set your phone back on the counter. All you had to do was push through these next couple weeks, like you always have when it came to him.

That should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

“No, that looks stupid.”

You grit your teeth, swiping the back of your hand on your forehead. You’d been inside of this studio maybe 30 minutes tops, and you were on the verge of strangling Kevin. With as long as you’d been putting up with his shit, you thought getting through this wouldn’t be as rough as it’s been. But if there was one thing Kevin Moon had, it was pride.

“We don’t have time for you to nitpick right now. Let’s just finish the choreography and clean it after.” Your hands rest on your hips, nostrils flaring.

“If we clean as we go, we’ll have more time to drill it into our systems and get down muscle memory. It’ll be a stronger performance.” He argues. You roll your eyes as you turn away from him, taking a water break to calm yourself. “Why do you have so much fucking attitude today? You were the one preaching to the choir about me making things difficult. It seems the tables have turned.”

Usually, you were pretty good at keeping your frustration at bay when it came to Kevin’s remarks. You liked to think it was because you were down bad for the guy, despite him always wanting nothing to do with you. But as of late, (Read: Since your performance of Princess and the Pauper) every little comment he’s made has managed to crawl under your skin like a damn parasite. You were beginning to get real sick of it.

“God, you’re so—“ You interrupt yourself to groan, fingers curling into fists. “You’re fucking insufferable. Do you know that? I’ve been bending over backwards to ensure we aren’t kicked out of the goddamn program and you don’t even fucking care. Over what? A kiss that you initiated?”

Kevin is stunned into silence, not at all prepared for you to blow up on him like that. After all, that razor thin line between complacency and free-will had yet to be crossed. And well, it appears that you just crossed it. You whip around toward him, pulling down the collar of your t-shirt to reveal the faintest of bruises that still remains from your impromptu act of intimacy.

“I’ve had to look at this every day for a week and all it’s done is make me feel shitty, ashamed of something I didn’t even start. Now I need you to stop acting like an ass and get it together so we can finish this and perform the best dance this university has ever seen.” Your chest is heaving up and down, similarly to when you made out against the mirrors last week. Except this time isn’t out of breathlessness, but rather anger and exhaustion.

Kevin’s eyes don’t leave the hickey on the base of your throat, something undetectable swimming in them as he stares. You can’t read the emotions swirling rampantly in his irises, a mixture of too many blurring into one another. Honestly, it’s funny. It’s funny that it’s taken you this long to get him to shut his mouth for once.

So you laugh.

It’s a snort at first, an off handed projection of how comical the situation has become to you. But then it metamorphoses into a small giggle, which leads to full scale laughter that has you hunching over your knees and wiping away tears. This whole thing is stupid. Absolutely fucking stupid.

“What are you laughing at?” His eyebrow raises in question, broken from his weird trance.

“I just can’t believe it took three years for me to shut you up,” you shake your head slowly, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm. “You’re always the one who can’t stop talking.”

Kevin deadpans, mouth pulled pin-straight as his expression drops. “You’re so unserious.”

As the height of your laughter reaches a valley, you collapse onto the ground, resting your back against the mirror. You take another long sip of water before sighing. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Trust me, I know. But, we’ve gotta set aside our differences just this once. Please, for the sake of the department.”

“Fine,” he murmurs, plopping down beside you to stretch his back. “Let’s finish choreographing so we can start cleaning it up.”

It’s a victory in your book, and probably the most obedient the Pisces has ever been. Maybe this wouldn’t end in complete disaster like you assumed it would. It turns out Kevin Moon wasn’t entirely brainless and knew when he was wrong. Sometimes. Maybe. We’ll see.

You shut your eyes and visualize what you’ve choreographed so far, going over the moves in your head to see if the rest will come to you like a prophecy. It’s wishful thinking, but with how much you’ve accomplished since setting foot in the studio, you’re willing to try anything. The track would be nice for elements of hip hop style choreography, but you knew the audience wouldn’t eat it up as much as they would the route you’re currently taking.

Driver roll up the partition, please…

The song plays through the speakers and you watch as Kevin stands to run through everything you have. You’re entranced by his movements, the flow of his body on certain points. It’ll look ten times better once you’re doing it with him, costumed and performing it perfectly in front of a crowd. You can picture it now, the gentle but controlled glide of his hands along your arms when Beyoncé sings “We ain’t even gonna make it to this club”. He was right. You very well might be seduced by your enemy.

“Should we use props?” You suddenly voice, eyes narrowed in thought. He hums.

“That’s… not a half-bad idea, actually,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“A chair, maybe,” you look away from him, placing your focus on the way your toes alternate between a tendu and relaxed position. “That could take up a good chunk of the choreo.”

Kevin stalks over to the supply closet in the corner of the studio, pulling out a folding chair. He puts it in the center of the room gently, careful to not scratch up the wooden, lacquered flooring. You spend the next couple of hours brainstorming through numerous versions of the dance. While it was a lot easier than your past practices, there were still the occasional argument over which movements looked good and whatnot.

At a certain point, everything becomes cohesive and the end is near. You gulp down some water as Kevin does some random choreography. It’s then that it comes to you, like a vision from That’s So Raven. You practically drop your water bottle, scrambling to your feet and stopping him. Your breath is heavy from fatigue and you’re slightly afraid of even suggesting this, but it’s exactly what this dance needs. It’s exactly what everyone wants to see from the two of you.

He pauses the music and gestures for you to get on with it. You push down the lump in your throat, scared of rejection. But maybe he was smart and he would agree that this is what you have to do. “What if we did a lift?”

You see the hesitation swirling in his eyes and you raise a finger before he can shut you down entirely. “Nothing crazy like… um— you know— Princess and the Pauper, but something smaller. Something… sexy? Like, Dancing with the Stars type beat.”

When he shrugs instead of outright dismissing your idea, you know you’ve won. He nods slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Okay, sure. But we better clean up everything else fast so we can perfect the lift.”

The two of you take another three hours running the entirety of the choreography, ingraining the moves into your brains and muscles. You still had a bit until the actual showcase, but your priority now lies with the lift. If you nailed it, the entire department would very well grovel after you in reparation for all of the slack you got after Kevin dropped you. Hell, the entire university would kiss your feet. This was your redemption. In more ways than one.

You both decide to call it a day at around 9:30 PM. Your hands reach for your belongings and then you halt yourself, a thought coming to mind. While you had him in this weird state of obedience, you figured it was as good a time as any to ask the question that’s been weighing on you for the past few years. Your fingers swipe away the sweat beading around your hairline.

”Kevin,” you start, voice a lot softer than before. “Why do you— what did I do to make you dislike me so much?”

He’s caught completely off guard, eyes widening in surprise. If he was anticipating you to say anything else prior to parting ways tonight, he didn’t think this would be it. He’s actually a little off put that you hadn’t asked him this already in the span of your definitely-one-sided rivalry. He takes a large gulp of water.

”I’d call it indifference, not dislike,” he corrects after a pregnant silence. “It’s really fucking stupid thinking about it in hindsight. I don’t know if you remember this time, way back in our first year, we ran into each other at the campus cafe— literally, might I add— and you spilled your coffee all over this white shirt of mine that Changmin had gotten for me as a birthday gift. I only recently found out that it wasn’t as expensive as he made it out to be.”

You blink at his admission, processing his words as thoroughly as possible. You don’t know what you wanted him to say. You weren’t even sure if there was a concrete reason for him to be so fucking mean to you all this time. And now that you know, you come to the conclusion that Kevin Moon isn’t as smart as you’ve painted him out to be in your head. He’s actually a gigantic idiot. Because who in their right mind goes through these lengths to form a distance between the only other person on par with their talent?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re bursting into another fit of laughter. Kevin falters at your reaction. He was waiting for you to blow up on him, to scream in his face for causing you so much pain and unnecessary drama over something so silly. So when you do none of that, when you start fucking laughing like a damn hyena, he feels dumb. Like his entire college career has been built off of nothing.

”This is so—“ you pause to gather your bearings, wiping away the tears that managed to escape. “We’ve spent so much time going back and forth over some spilled coffee? Surely you’ve realized how insane that is at some point.”

”It took a lengthy argument with Changmin, but yeah, I did,” he nods, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, finally getting your things together. The two of you bid each other an awkward goodbye. Neither of you knew what to make of your relationship now that things had been partially sorted through. There was a fuck ton of baggage that still had to be sifted, but at least you had an answer.

That was enough to push through this showcase performance. You think.

You’re nervous.

Never in your entire life have you ever been this nervous for a performance.

You grew up doing musical theatre and dancing, it’s always been the one constant presence you could rely on. But standing here, backstage at the showcase, you think you’re going to throw up. Your palms are clamming up uncontrollably and your chest feels unbearably heavy as you watch the quartet doing a contemporary piece to some ballad you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. There were still a couple groups before you.

Not even when you had to perform fuckass Princess and the Pauper were you this anxious. You wince, trying to stop the incessant bouncing of your leg. Your weight keeps shifting from one hip to the other. As a seasoned veteran, you don’t know why you feel this way. Maybe it had to do with all the pressure riding on this very dance. Every single eye in that crowd was going to scrutinize your every move on that stage.

“Calm down,” a voice whispers harshly from beside you. “You’re making me nervous.”

Kevin wraps his fingers around your wrist, stopping the annoying tap-tap-tap your own were doing against your thigh. He gives you a look, and you sigh. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

That’s a lie. Not only was the high expectations from the entire school getting to you, but so was the fear of history repeating itself. He knows this, it was inevitable. After what happened the last time he was tasked with lifting you, it was only natural.

”We’ve drilled this dance hundreds, if not thousands, of times, Y/N. We’ll do just fine.” Kevin assures you.

His hand feels foreign holding yours, like it was illegal for his skin to be touching your own. You feel your lower lip quiver, a sense of trepidation that you’ve never once felt creeping down your spine. Your mind was spiraling, and quite honestly, Kevin being so close was making it worse. All you could think about was him dropping you again, leaving you in the middle of the stage with a broken leg and a broken heart. You release a shaky breath and he turns to face you.

Your eyes widen and he searches your face for any disingenuity. When he finds his answer, he brings the hand that was holding yours up to cup your cheek. He’s cautious, afraid he might break you like he always does. He waits for you to shove him away and to yell at him for being a fucking coward.

You don’t. You stay still, hoping he follows through with what you think he’s about to do. And then he does.

It’s such a featherlight peck of his lips on your own, you almost don’t even register. But sparks shoot from the source all the way to the tips of your fingers. You feel as if you were dealt a static shock of electricity, your whole body buzzing from the small kiss alone.

He pulls away just in time for the stage manager to inform you that you’re next. Kevin rolls his neck jogging over to the wings to patiently await your performance like he hadn’t just kissed you a moment ago. You blink dumbly, two fingers coming up to touch where his lips had been. Sure the nerves were gone now, but the sensation of butterflies swarming about in your stomach easily replaced that. What the fuck was his problem?

“Our last performance is one I’m sure all of you have been waiting for. Kevin Moon and Y/N L/N with Partition!”

Before you know it, you and Kevin are in position, your body squared upstage and his to the crowd. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist and his steady breathing on your nose. The spotlight switches on, the heat of the lighting warm against the side of your face. It’s silent in the auditorium, but it rings in your ears. You could do this.

Let me hear you say ‘Hey Miss Carter’…

You move on reflex, muscle memory kicking in instantaneously. Each circle of your hips, every turn you make— a fouetté here, a pirouette there, a couple coupes, each roll of your body. But what really gets you is the long brushes of Kevin’s skin on your own. You’d practiced with distance between the two of you. There was a tension that had been there for years. Now it’s all coming to a rolling boil, a new uncharted tension that every single member in that audience could see.

And then comes the lift.

You, along with everybody in the auditorium, practically hold your breath when Kevin’s hands grip your hips. He raises you above him with all of his strength, completely focused on you and only you. You shut your eyes and feel the moment, like, really feel it. Your body is relaxed, the Dirty Dancing-esque lift bringing the whole performance together just like you knew it would. The only difference from the movie and real life is the fact that you’re flipped, your backside to Kevin and your chest to the ceiling.

Your eyes flutter open, the spotlight all but blinding you, and you finally feel content. Like everything has fallen into the right place for once in your life. Especially so when Kevin sets you down gently and you finish your dance with the utmost confidence.

The crowd erupts into a roaring chorus of applause, going as far as giving you a standing ovation. Holy shit. You pulled it off. You actually managed to pull it off.

Your face feels like it might split from how big your smile is. You and Kevin bow, walking off stage. You’re entirely too happy right now, a newfound energy overtaking you as you trail behind him.

“We did it!” You cheer as you follow him towards the dressing room where your things are. You’re the only ones left backstage, everyone else filtering out between performances. Kevin doesn’t give you much of a response, just a small nod of acknowledgment. Your smile falters. “What the hell is your problem?”

”Nothing, Y/N, fuck. Can you just mind your own fucking business?” He snaps, turning around to glare at you just as the door slams behind you. You instinctively flinch at both loud noises. His features soften but you take a step back from him.

You aren’t sure why you’re surprised. This isn’t anything new. Kevin has always made it crystal clear that he wasn’t your number one fan. Being neutral for your performance wasn’t enough to repair all the holes in whatever your relationship was, and you should’ve known better. You shouldn’t have let your guard down so easily. You should’ve expected this. Old dogs can never learn new tricks.

But Kevin’s scared. He’s afraid of letting you in after all the mess he’s put you through. The only thing he’s good at doing is hurting you, over and over like there was a prize that came out of it.

”Look…”

”No, you listen to me,” you swallow heavily, tears already tight lining your eyes. “Kevin, I have taken so much shit from you. Over these past few years I have just sat there and let you unload all your fucked up insecurities onto me. Have you ever wondered why? Have you ever thought to stop and think about why I let you be so mean to me without even questioning it?”

He says nothing, just stares with his lips parted. They open and close like a fish out of water, words there at the tip of his tongue but refusing to make their escape. And then one of your tears rolls down your cheeks and he’s directly in front you, his heart on his sleeve for the first time since you’ve met him.

”Why?” The simple question is so quiet, you almost don’t hear him. But his eyes hold so much hurt, so much anguish that you’ve never seen in a person before.

“I’ve had feelings for you for so long, it’s actually starting to ache. You’ve only ever seen me as this thing, this obstacle. And I’m afraid that that’s all I’ll ever be to you, because you won’t let me be anything else. You won’t—“

”That’s not true, Y/N,” Kevin sighs, looking off to the side, away from you. “I just— it’s complicated. It’s more than just being rivals.”

”So help me understand,” you frown. “Let me in, please.”

”My entire life I’ve had to work to get to where I am. I’ve fought tooth and nail to be as good of a performer as I am today. There were so many hoops I had to go through to even get into this program and— and I thought I’d finally become the best I could be. I thought that there was no way anyone could ever be better than me. And then you showed up. You and your pretty smile and your natural ability to be the best at everything you do. It was like you were the real life manifestation of all of my critics, of every challenge I faced to get here. Where I had to practice day and night to perfect something, it just came to you like second nature. During Princess and the Pauper, when I dropped you, it truly was an accident. But we’d spent so much time nailing it, that it— I just made myself feel better by saying it was your fault. ‘How could it have been my fault if I perfected it?’ I was jealous and petty and it was just easier to blame hating— to blame my indifference on you spilling coffee on my stupid shirt. For that, I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what you were waiting to hear, but it wasn’t that. Your tears turn into full on blubbering, because what the fuck? That’s so much burden for someone to carry on their shoulders for three years.

“Why are you— why are you crying?” He flounders, reaching up to swipe away your tears.

“I wish I knew… I wish I could’ve helped you somehow,” you sniffle. “Kev, I’ve always admired you and your work ethic. I hoped one day I’d be half as disciplined as you, half as determined.”

He blinks. You’re both dumb, aren’t you? Too focused on the wrong things. You both could’ve been a lot less hateful, a lot less miserable, had you just spoken your differences out. This entire rivalry has been completely one sided, but also built off of plain stupidity and ignorance. He supposes it’s not too late to make amends if you aren’t running in the opposite direction despite everything he’s put you through.

Kevin leans forward, hand still pressed to your cheek, and connects your lips softly. He’s testing the waters, making sure you’re comfortable before he continues anything. When you don’t back away just yet, he adds more force, deepening the kiss like a man starved. You whine against his lips.

This is what you’ve been wanting from him. More than what he gave you before your performance, but not what happened in the studio a few weeks ago. This desperation isn’t abashed lust, it’s unbridled affection— it’s everything he’s holed inside of himself for years, unwilling to let it see the light of day until now. If you were to label anything as perfection, it wouldn’t be a dance or a moment on stage, it would be this. Just you and Kevin finally bringing yourselves together in the most intimately emotional union.

He pulls you closer to him, hands sliding down to grasp at your waist, bunching up the thin fabric of your leotard. You can’t help but bury your fingers in his hair, tugging when he nips at your lower lip. A gasp permeates the air when his mouth travels south, along your jaw and down the side of your neck. He bites and sucks the tender skin at the base of your throat, ensuring he leaves his mark on you. This time isn’t careless, this time he has purpose. He wants everybody to know that you’re his, that you’re the only person insane enough to put up with him.

Your breathing is shaky when you reach behind you to lock the dressing room, dragging him over to the long vanity adjacent to you. He slots between your legs when you hoist yourself onto the surface. He pecks your lips and pauses his movements, rubbing up and down your thighs. In the dim, yellow lighting of the room, you look so gorgeous. He’s always thought you were beautiful, the most stunning thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, but he’s repressed it for so long. He wants to take his time staring at what he’s avoided.

”You’re so pretty,” he says quietly, kissing you again and again and again. “I don’t think I can last long with you.”

“Can we skip the foreplay?” You ask, bottom lip jutted into a pout. “Need you to just fuck me like you mean it.”

Kevin’s forehead falls to your shoulder with a groan. “I don’t deserve you,” God, he’s such an idiot for holding out from this. You should’ve been given the world and so much more. He has a lot of lost time to make up for. He kisses your shoulder with a sigh. “Yeah, baby, I can do that.”

You don’t waste another second, slipping your arms through the sleeves of your leotard. He has to bite down on his tongue when he sees that you’re braless, fingers going slack as they unbutton the rest of his silk shirt. You shimmy out of the one piece, left in nothing but the fishnet stockings you wore underneath and your lacy panties. Kevin thinks he must’ve done at least something right in a past life to experience this.

Your eyes sparkle as you look up at him, undoing his slacks and kicking them down his legs with your feet. Something takes over him when he rips a bigger hole in your stockings, pushing your underwear to the side. His thumb glides through your folds with ease, your slick providing enough lubricant. He pushes your lower lips apart while you busy yourself shoving his underwear to his ankles.

His cock slips inside of you with less friction than he would’ve thought, but he doesn’t complain, screwing his eyes shut as he acclimates to the feeling of your walls surrounding him. You moan, such a soft sound that he nearly loses his balance.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, digging his fingers into your hips as he rocks his own. “You’re so so perfect.”

The praise is too much for you, given the circumstances. Your brain is already cloudy, stuffed with what could only be described as cotton. You watch with half lidded eyes as he begins to piston into you at a faster speed. This all feels like a fever dream, something that was only possible in your craziest fantasies. Even then, it seemed unlikely.

“‘M close, Kev,” you whine, unable to stay still and attempting to match his thrusts.

“Already? We’ve only just started, gorgeous.” He laughs, but it’s breathy, strained from the exertion of his body. You hardly have the strength in you to be embarrassed about it, especially since he’s seen you in much worse situations.

You nod frantically, snaking a hand between you to circle your clit with nimble fingers. Kevin halts you and pulls out momentarily, sliding his cock between your folds like it was your hand. The tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you dizzier than you already were.

He presses back into you with ease, resuming his sloppy but animalistic pace. He uses his thumb to continue your handywork, your cunt fluttering around him needily. You’re both losing your sanity quickly, both going batshit insane over the bare minimum. You’ve just needed this for so long, yearned for this moment for a humiliating amount of time.

Your moans start to rise in pitch and he groans. “Fuck, baby, you can cum for me.”

He could cry, he thinks, when your back arches and your legs shake with your orgasm. It hits you like a freight train, triggering his own release just as fast.

You stay like that for a bit, regaining yourselves and comprehending everything that’s just happened. So much for the whole hating each other narrative.

“What does this mean for us?” You suddenly ask, arms hooked around Kevin’s neck. You’re still connected by your lower halves, but he makes no effort to pull away. Part of you likes it that way, it gives you hope that this isn’t a one time affair.

“It’ll be hard for things to change overnight,” he says, massaging your sides. “We have a lot of unresolved issues and insecurities that we still have to push past. But I’m willing to do that with you. I want to take a chance on us.”

Your lips pull into a smile, an expression you don’t think you’ve worn around him genuinely in the years you’ve known him. “I do, too.”

“It’s kind of ironic that it was a performance that tore us apart and brought us back together, don’t you think?” He laughs.

“And we fucked in the dressing room…” You add, glancing to the top corner where a security camera is stationed.

“Maybe we should get out of here before someone checks the footage,” he suggests. “Tau Beta Zeta is conveniently hosting our end of semester party tonight, do you wanna be my plus one?”

“I would be honored.” You grin, pecking his lips tenderly.

Perhaps happy endings existed after all.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[pursuedbyamemoryy]

Hope you're having a good day/night! I come with a request if you want to write it (if not then that's cool!) What about a Charles Smith x reader where it's like 2 or three months after leaving with him to help the Wapiti people and reader finds out shes pregnant, and is super worried to tell him because of everything going on, of course he finds out though.

a promising future

☆ thank you for requesting! i love charles so much and i had fun writing this, i hope you enjoy reading <3 !!

warnings - pregnancy ( lmk if i'm missing any ! )

w/c - 1.8k

it had been nearly three months since the downfall of the van der linde gang. you and charles had decided to stay up north with the wapiti people and help them get to safety, rather than go back to beaver hollow. this gang had meant a lot to you, and the fact that it was falling apart was hard for you. you were close to so many members, including a couple who had unfortunately already passed away. you knew it was inevitable, but you had decided you’d rather not see the absolute end, so you stayed with charles. he was all you needed anyways, he was the love of your life, and he meant everything to you.

you and charles helped rains fall and the wapiti people pack up and move up north to canada, helping them get away from colonel favours and the army, in hopes of giving them as much freedom and peace as possible. you were happy to help, rains fall and his people were nothing but kind to you, and they deserved the best they could get. however with the stress of helping them out, you started to feel sick, and oh so exhausted. it’s just stress. i’m not resting enough. i haven’t been drinking enough water. you tried to convince yourself. deep down you knew that wasn’t true, but you didn’t want to add any more stress to you or charles’ life.

you and charles hadn’t exactly been careful when you’d slept together recently. you hadn’t had much time to yourselves, so you took advantage of every moment alone, which resulted in neither of you caring about where he finished. you had been around when abigail was pregnant with jack, and you had a lot of the same symptoms she did back then. there was no doubt in your mind that you were pregnant, and you were terrified.

you wanted to tell charles, you really did, but with everything going on these past few months you could never find a good time. you figured the last thing he needed right now was to be told that he was going to be a father, that you had a baby on the way. you knew that normally, under any other circumstances he’d be happy. but now he was working day and night, doing what he could to help the tribe get settled, helping with the sick, and getting them what they needed. you didn’t want him to worry about you and your baby on top of that.

you knew charles had noticed you were out of sorts, of course he had. he was very observant when it came to you especially, and you caught him looking at you worriedly here and there over the past few weeks. he knew you’d come to him when you were ready to talk, so he didn’t pry.

you were lost in your thoughts, helping with the laundry with some other tribe members. you heard someone come up behind you and rest their hand on your shoulder, you knew immediately who it was. he brushed your hair to the side, kissing your neck gently. you leaned into his touch, humming happily.

“hi charles” you said with a smile.

“hi, my love,” he said, placing another soft kiss to your jaw. “i was going to go out and hunt and get something for dinner, i was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

you smile, and nod. “yeah sure, i’m just about finished with laundry anyways.” you wrung the water out of the shirt you were washing, laying it out on a rock to dry. standing up, you wiped your hands on your skirt and turned around to face charles, grabbing his hand as he led you to your horses.

“have you found any good hunting spots around here yet?” you say, patting taima gently and making your way over to your own horse, tightening his saddle and giving him a sugar cube.

“i found one decent spot close to here that had a bunch of deer, other than that i haven’t had much time to hunt.” he made sure taima’s saddle was secure and mounted her, waiting for you to do the same.

you hummed in response, mounting your own horse and riding beside charles out of the tribe’s current camp.

the ride was quiet, but not awkward. there was a lot of comfortable silence between the two of you, which you never minded. he led you a short while away from camp to a grassy clearing next to a thick grove of trees, where you saw a herd of deer lazily grazing.

he held his finger up to his lips, motioning you to be quiet so you didn’t scare away the deer. you nodded, slowly and quietly getting off your horse and drawing your bow from your saddle bag, charles doing the same.

you crouched down next to him, stealthily making your way closer to the deer. you got close enough that you’d be able to land a good shot, but still far enough away that you wouldn’t scare the herd. you both drew your bows, aiming at different deer. charles landed a clean shot, and while yours wasn’t as clean you both managed to take down the two deer with just one arrow each.

charles looked over at you with a smile, “nice work as always, my love.” he grabbed one of your hands, kissing the back of it gently.

“i could say the same to you.” you said with a smile.

you both stand up, making your way over to the deer, slinging the one you killed over the back of your horse and securing it. usually a quick hunt such as this wasn’t too tiring, but you were quickly starting to feel exhausted. you watched as charles secured his deer on taima’s rump. he then made his way over to you, looking into your eyes deeply, as if he could read all your thoughts.

“are you feeling okay? i know we’ve had a lot going on but you seem... distracted?” he took your hands in his.

you took a deep breath. you needed to tell him. he deserved to know. god, how do you even tell someone this? would he be upset? would he be excited? your mind was racing, your hands shaking in his. you started to tear up, your anxiety taking over.

“hey, hey, it’s okay.” he pulled you in for a hug, running his hand up and down your back comfortingly.

you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, trying to collect yourself and your thoughts. charles didn’t press further, he just continued to hold you until you were ready to talk.

you took another deep breath and took a step back, looking him in the eyes. tell him. he looked worried. tell him. he continued to run his hand up and down your back comfortingly. tell. him.

“i’m pregnant.”

he stiffened slightly, his eyes going wide. “really?” he looked you up and down slowly. “you’re actually…?”

you nodded, looking away from him and at some random spot in the dirt. “yes. i’m sorry, charles.” you said quietly.

“sorry? my love, why are you sorry? this is great news!” he replied immediately, his hands moving to cup your face gently.

“we’ve had so much going on lately… i was worried that you’d be upset because we’ve been so stressed between everything that’s happened between the gang and the tribe...” you rambled, pausing for a moment. “you’re happy then?” you looked back at him, your eyes starting filling with tears once again, this time happy ones.

“of course i’m happy. sure we’ve been busy, but i love you, and i’m more than excited to start a family with you. in fact i’ve been wanting to start a family with you, and now that we’re out of the gang, we don’t have as much to worry about. no more bounties on our heads and pinkertons breathing down our necks.” he grinned. “and i have to be honest, i suspected you might be pregnant, but i hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to you about it.” he chuckled, wiping a stray tear that slipped down your cheek. he looked you in the eyes, then leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

he wasn’t upset at all. he wants this, he wants a family. he’s happy. you kissed him back, wrapping your arms behind his neck.

you let out a sob as you pulled away, tears flowing down your cheeks. “i’m so glad.” you laughed, relieved. of course he was happy, why wouldn’t he be?

you giggled as he peppered kisses across your face, kissing away your tears. he pulled you in for another kiss on the lips, soft, sweet, and passionate. you didn’t pull away until you were both out of breath, resting your forehead against his.

“i love you.” you sighed.

“i love you so much.” you stayed like that for a moment before he reached into his satchel and pulled out a little envelope excitedly. “i almost forgot to tell you, i got us a place. it’s not much as of right now, but i’ll fix it up real nice for us. for our family.” he showed you the deed, which confirmed his statement.

you grinned, kissing him again. “oh charles, this is wonderful, thank you. thank you so much. how did you even afford this?”

“i’ve been saving as much as i can from all the jobs we used to go on while we were in the gang. it wasn’t much at first, but it added up.” he smiled. “we’ll still help out the tribe, of course, but i thought it was about time we got a place of our own. i want our baby to live a better life then we have, and i’ll do anything to make that happen, you hear?” he grabbed your chin gently. “i’ll do anything to make you and our baby happy, because if you’re happy, im happy.” he pulled you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head gently.

you stayed like that for a while, the rest of the world around you forgotten. for all you cared it was just you and charles in that moment. eventually as the sun started to sink below the trees, you decided it was time to head back to camp, lest the spoils of your hunt go to waste. you mounted your horses and made your way back to camp together, happier then you had been in a while. for once your future looked promising, and you were more than happy to be spending it with charles, and eventually your baby.

[theapangea]

Alcoholics Anonymous

Lip Gallagher x Reader

Summery: You and Lip meet at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, talk of religion

It’s a part of you and always will be.

The addiction that still runs every little part of your life. Even if it’s been years, it will always be there, dormant in a small, dark part of your brain until it becomes awaken by some outside cause that sweeps you off your feet and ultimately fucks you over. The yearning for the taste will always live somewhere deep inside of you.

Alcohol is your addiction and you are an addict. 

And no matter the length of time that you spend at these meetings, week after week while you work on yourself, all you will ever be is an addict. Addicted to not only the alcohol but the repetitiveness of your life now after the drinking. 

The question is…when will you finally let it consume you?

The sound of clapping pulls you from your internal monologue. Realizing you haven’t been paying any attention to the other members talking about their road to recovery. It was all the same anyway - though you’d never say that outloud. 

Always some stupid, awful event that got them into heavy drinking and now they are trying to pick up all the little pieces. The sad part is that most of them are going to relapse sooner or later. 

Tapping your foot on the fake wood floor of the high school gym, shiny from the recent wax job. Scanning the familiar faces as you try to guess who is going to succumb to the madness first. Your guess is the cat lady that is sitting a couple of chairs away from you. She’s been taking an awful lot about one of her cars getting super sick, she’ll definitely need a drink if it dies.

“Thank you for sharing,” Reverend Mills' voice echoes through the gymnasium, sending a gracious smile at the older gentleman as they meet at the podium. Their hands meeting as the Reverend mumbles a prayer. Like God is going to help stop him from drinking, you can practically see the metal flask in his jacket pocket. Damn, these people are just getting stupider.

Tilting your head back, letting your hair fall behind the plastic seat, arms crossed over your chest as you wait for this hour to end. You like these meetings when the people actually take the system seriously. You are tired of all of the people who use this group as a revolving door.

“Would anyone else care to share,” His eyes wander along the long faces until they finally land on you, clearly not paying any attention. Your name falling from his mouth, not really asking but telling you that it was your turn.

A half-ass smile pulls across your mouth as you grudgingly stand up and make your way to the front of the group. It was inevitable for you to speak at every meeting. You are the one with the longest days sober and Reverend Mills likes your story, says it’s inspiring or whatever. 

Fingernails picking at the edges of the wooden podium as you take a deep breath before speaking.

“Hi everyone, I’m Y/N.” The fake smile and tone of voice is very apparent to everyone.

The group saying hello in unison back to you.

You begin, “I have been sober for almost 2 years… to be specific, 1 year, 10 months and,” counting on your fingers, “13 days as of today.” Pausing as the group claps at your accomplishment. 

Continuing, “I can’t believe how slow times go now that I’m sober. I used to feel like I lost days, weeks even to drinking. Waking up on a Sunday morning not remembering the past week, knowing that I’d probably forget the week after.” A laugh from a few of the members as you joke about an all too common side effect of drinking. “Looking back on these two ye-”

The sudden squeak of the entrance doors interrupts your speech. Rolling your eyes as you and the group watch the young man struggle to close the door without making more sound, unfortunately for him (and you), he couldn’t. The squeaking sound booming with every inch as he pulls it closed, finally a sense of relief washes over his body when it’s done.

Adjusting the backpack on his shoulder as he turns around to notice all the people staring at him in silence. Mouthing a quiet curse and apologizes as both of his hands shoot up in front of him before he hurries to one of the back seats. 

Ironically the plastic chair creaks when he finally sits down, a huff of annoyance escaping him.

You can’t help but just stare. Your mind is completely blank as you notice his messy hair and tight jeans. Only realizing you had been staring a bit too long when his eyes meet yours. The tiny spark makes you gulp as you quickly look away. 

“Please continue, Y/N.” The Reverend encourages you to continue your story.

“Sorry, yeah.” Shaking your head to gather your thoughts again as you struggle not to look in the direction of the man practically sitting in your frontal view, “Looking back on these two years of sobriety, I find it almost crazy that I was able to put myself first. That I was able to overcome my addiction. And it’s funny, the thing most people don’t tell you is that you never stop wanting alcohol. It’s always there, the little voice in the back of your mind saying it’s ok for you to have one, little, tiny sip. Won’t do any harm. But it will, to people like us, it will. It’s hard, not impossible. Thank you.”

A quick flash of a smile to the group before quickly moving back to your seat, a wave of applause follows after you. The Reverend starts to talk about sobriety and ends the meeting with a group prayer.

As everyone’s heads are lowered, you take the chance to look back over your shoulder at the boy sitting in the back, the one who interrupted your speech. Though semi-happy as you were able to cut it shorter than normal.

Peering over your left shoulder, head turning slowly as you try not to make it too obvious, finding that he was already staring at you. A cheeky smile engulfing his face instantly makes you blush as you immediately turn your head back around. Embarrassed beyond belief that he caught you sneaking another look at him. 

You groan silently to yourself as the Reverend ends the prayer and a unison ‘Amen’ circles the room. Crossing your arms as you lean deeper into the chair, eyes fixated on the floor as you watch the dozen or so shoes scramble to depart.

“Amazing speech, Y/N.” Reverend Mills compliments as he walks up to you. His shoes a black leather loafer, “Like always.”

Looking up at him to respond, “Well if you keep making me talk at every meeting, I’m going to run out of things to say.” 

His face is kind, soft features and years of wrinkles form into a warm smile. You aren’t trying to be mean by your statement, but tired of the never ending cycle of the program. 

“There’s always more to your stories, you just chose to skip over those parts.” The Reverend implies, as he knows more about you than you tell to the group. Confiding in him through the course of these couple of years. He has good intentions, you are just wary of everyone.

Pulling your attention, “There is someone I want you to meet.” Nodding his head, signaling for you to stand and follow him, “Lip!” Practically shouting over the group, waving for him to come over to the two of you.

You can’t tell right away who he is yelling for until the young man from before, the one who caught you staring, starts to walk over to the both of you. Two cookies wrapped in a napkin in one hand and a styrofoam cup in the other. 

You can practically feel the bleed leave your face, leaving you in a ghostly, shocked state. 

“Lip, this is the girl I was telling you about.” Reverend Mills says as he gestures towards you. “Lip, this is Y/N and Y/N this is Lip.”

Lip places the styrofoam cup in his mouth, with the edge with his teeth as his now free hand extends out in front of you. A couple of beats pass as you don’t move, your eyes locked onto him as he nods his head for you to shake his hand. His blue eyes are even more piercing up close. Gulping as you slowly reach for his hand, the firm shake completed by him as you still are unable to move. The touch is electrifying.

The Reverend lets out a light laugh when the hand shake is over, obviously picking up on the awkwardness between you and Lip. “So Y/N, I was wondering if you’d like to be his sponsor.”

The comment quickly pulls you into reality. A sponsor? You barely want to coach yourself everyday not to pick up the bottle and now you may have to make sure someone else stays on their path. “Oh, I don’t know…” You trail off, the uncertainty lingering long after your voice stops.

“I think that you two would be a great fit.” Mills insists as he places a hand on your shoulder,  “Lip needs help and I think you can relate to him.”

Well now you feel obligated to do it. Great.

You scan Lip up and down as you try to study who he is as a person. Cocky, annoying, smart. Huffing as you speak, “How long have you been sober.”

“Two-ish hours.” He mumbles before taking a bit of his cookie, following with a big gulp of his drink. 

“Reverend, really?” You plead. Knowing that this was absolutely ridiculous. 

“Just see if you can push him in the right direction.” The Reverend states before walking away, attending to the other members. Leaving you and Lip, standing in front of each other to figure this new situation out.

Breathing loud through your nose, clearly annoyed, unable to conceal any part of your disappointment from Lip.

“Look princess, I clearly don’t want to be here either but I’ve got this court thing-” Lip begins, mouth still full of chocolate chip cookie.

Cutting Lip off, “I get you don’t want to be here and I really don’t want to help you. But I’ll be your sponsor to help out Reverend Mills, that’s it.” You state firmly before walking away, only to back track to your original spot, “As for the drinking, it ends today. We’ll start next week.” Finally walking away for good.

Leaving Lip, cookie and coffee in hand, as his body desperately craves a drink.

~~~

I'm seriously so happy with this story series idea. Let me know what you think!! Also let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next part!!

Thank you for reading and supporting me!! I LOVE YOU!!!

[a-small-safe-place]

She Likes a Boy, and I’m not a Boy.

Queen Maeve x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend joins the new superhero team, The Seven, and breaks up with you. This is loosely based on the unreleased song by Nxdia on TikTok. Literally just the “she likes a boy, I’m not a boy” part because a lot of sapphic people can relate to that line.

Margaret knew you were proud of her when she joined The Seven. You were proud of her for anything she did as “Queen Maeve,” but not in the same way her dad would be proud. You weren’t proud of her because it would bring you money or fame; you were proud of her because she was doing good in the world. You didn’t mind keeping your relationship quiet either. You understood that it could lead to more problems for you and definitely more problems for Queen Maeve if the masses found out that her secret identity was dating a woman, even when she was still a small-time hero.

She was fine keeping you a secret when she first joined The Seven, even once she and Homelander started their showmance. Margaret still would sneak around to see you. She would reassure you that it’s just for the cameras and that this was for the best for you two. That’s what Maeve thought, until Homelander made a move on her away from the cameras. She struggled to find the words to tell him no because she had been warned of the damage he could do when he got mad.

Homelander frowned, "No? Why not? You’re single, I’m single. We are both superheroes with super strength, so we don’t have to worry about hurting each other," he argued. Maeve noticed the way his eyes flickered with a strange emotion when he brought up hurting each other. Maeve wondered who exactly he had hurt in the past to warrant that reaction. The thought quickly left her head; she didn’t care about that right now.

"I’m just not looking for a relationship. I like my privacy," Maeve countered. Homelander scoffed as if the notion of privacy was ridiculous.

"Come on, the minute you became Queen Maeve, you lost your right to privacy. You know that as well as I do. I mean, come on, my secret identity, 'John,' only fooled people for a week. It’s going to be no time before they see 'Margaret' for who she really is," Homelander made it seem as if she had no choice.

Maeve finally agreed to "date" him, but she still wanted to keep seeing you, trying her best to keep you away from Homelander. She hated herself for having to do this, but she didn’t want to lose you. That is until she saw the damage Homelander could do if he was jealous enough. At a Vought party, a bartender had been flirting with Maeve. She knew the guy was trying to get tips, but she didn’t know Homelander was able to hear the man flirting, and Maeve laughed at a few of his cheesy jokes because they reminded her of something you would say. The day after, Homelander was being far clingier, and then the day after that, the bartender was found dead in his apartment, completely disemboweled. Homelander told her he did it. He said he was jealous because she’s never laughed with him in the same way she laughed with that bartender.

"I know you wouldn’t try to leave me, but the thought of you laughing with that bartender pissed me off," Homelander’s words felt like a threat. Maeve doesn’t sleep that night. She lays awake knowing that she has to break up with you or watch you be strung up by your intestines.

A week passes. Queen Maeve doesn’t contact you in any way. She can’t, not with Homelander being so clingy. Finally, she is able to slip away while he goes somewhere to help Black Noir. She arrives at your apartment.

Maeve knocks.

Before all this, she would just walk in and make herself at home. You open the door. "Margaret? I’ve been worried sick! You haven’t answered any of my texts or calls! I haven’t seen you in over a week," you scold her.

"We need to talk," she says with a plain face and a monotone voice. Maeve feels lucky she has had to master acting during her time as a hero. You let her in and shut the door. She takes a small survey of your space; she knows she won’t be in it again. Maeve wants to remember what she can.

"Is something wrong?" You ask; there’s a hint of sadness in your voice. You know what’s coming. Maeve turns around with a disgusted grimace painted on her face.

"I’ve been cheating on you," is all she says. It’s painful to admit; she wishes she could tell you she didn’t have a choice and that she’s doing this to keep you safe, but she doubles down. "With Homelander. Since our showmance started."

"Why, Maeve?" You ask, and Maeve’s acting fails her for a moment; she frowns. You always called her Margaret before and not Maeve. She responds with the first thing that comes to mind. "He’s a man. You’re not. You didn’t think I would actually stay with a woman? Our relationship wasn’t even real. We never went on public dates. You were never my long-term plan. Forget this relationship ever happened. You’re nothing to me." Maeve leaves without another word. She slams the door. She flinches, knowing you hate that.

Maeve goes home to drink. Homelander repeatedly asks her what’s wrong, but she just responds with "nothing, just having a drink." Eventually, he goes to his own room, leaving Maeve alone in her Vought-provided room. Maeve wants to cry, but she knows he is listening to her, so she continues drowning her sorrows.

Years pass. Queen Maeve is inescapable for you. She’s everywhere. You finally move on from your relationship with Margaret, choosing to tell people that your ex had died. After all, Margaret was dead; she was just replaced by Queen Maeve.

You feel a bittersweet feeling when you see Homelander and Maeve broke up because he was sleeping around. You felt a little bad for her. Getting cheated on sucked. You moved through your life unbothered. That is until she was outed by Homelander as a "lesbian," and then he name-dropped you as her girlfriend. For a moment, Maeve was visibly shocked, but her face quickly reverted to a painfully fake smile. He said your first and last name. You realized that you had also been outed to anyone in your life that would put two and two together.

The next couple of days your phone rang and rang and rang. Family members calling you. Friends calling you. Co-workers. Random numbers. They all wanted the same thing. The hot gossip on your relationship with Maeve. You got a few nasty emails and direct messages on social media from anonymous accounts that were telling you that you and Queen Maeve would rot in hell for your sins, and a few threats from people that were convinced you corrupted Maeve. You had to take some personal time from work. Maeve eventually showed up at your apartment.

"We need to talk." The last time she said those words to you, she practically tore your heart out of your chest. This time she didn’t wait for you to let her in; she just pushed past you. Just like the last time, she takes in your apartment. You had gotten quite a few upgrades for the apartment.

"Are you here because of the talk show from the other day?" You ask; if you weren’t irritated by the situation, your voice would likely sound sad. "Yes," is all Maeve says. So she’s not really here for you. She’s not here to apologize.

"Well, you can feel free to leave; I’m not a boy, remember?" The words are bitter when they fall from your mouth. You’re not thinking when you say it. "I don’t want you to hate me anymore. I wanted to be with you. I did, but if I stayed, I would have put you in danger."

Of course, she’s deflecting. "So you cheated for my own good? That sounds so stupid," you scoff.

Maeve becomes very serious. "Being a hero isn’t what you think. It’s not about actually helping people. It’s about being a product that can be sold and palatable for the masses." After she says this, you take a seat and wait for her to continue. "Most of the heroes are narcissistic assholes that have no business having powers. They’re dangerous, and Homelander is the most dangerous."

"Homelander? Seriously? He’s like Jesus or something?" It’s hard to believe the top hero is a monster.

"Please, believe me," she begs. Maeve begins to explain what happened with the bartender right before she broke up with you. Maeve explains everything that she can without possibly endangering you.

"Maeve, I had no idea," you tell her. "I know what I said and did all those years ago was unforgivable, but I didn’t want to risk you trying to come and find me again," she says, sitting next to you.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, "How did he find out about us?" Maeve’s brow furrows. "I’m not sure. Maybe Vought knew and had a file on you or something, and he found it, but he knows. I don’t expect you to trust me right away, but getting you in the public eye is going to be the best way to keep you safe. If the public loves you, it will look suspicious if you suddenly disappear or die. He won’t touch you right now, but this is a short-term solution." You don’t respond.

"Vought’s marketing team wants to meet you tomorrow. A car will come pick you up at 3:00 tomorrow," Maeve leaves.

[hockeylovee12]

Your Quinn imagine is sooooo good!! Ahhhh!! 💛💛can you do maybe a part 2 please? I need q to suffer a little bit

Part 2

A/N I’m so glad you guys enjoyed the first part I hope you enjoy this one as well!! Feel free to request any other prompts!

Quinn stood there in shock. Y/N had been clingy the past few weeks but Quinn still loves her like a lot.

Knowing she is just mad Quinn decides to take a break and begins getting ready for the day brushing his teeth and washing his face before getting in the shower.

In the middle of conditioning his hair he hears their apartment door slam shut.

“Y/N!” Quinn calls out to no response.

Quinn quickly shuts off the shower and wraps a towel around his waist rushing out of his room to see if Y/N was still there.

She wasn’t and her purse and keys were gone as well.

Immediately Quinn searches for his phone conditioner still in his hair and his body wet.

When he finds his phone in his bedroom he begins calling Y/N multiple times each time getting a voicemail

He sends her a text.

Quinn💚-Y/N please I’m sorry come home and we can talk please

Quinn tosses his phone on the bed and heads back to the shower to quickly rinse out the conditioner that was in his hair before drying off and getting dressed in some jeans and a hoodie.

Quinn takes a seat on the couch and tries to call Y/N again receiving no response Quinn frustrated runs a hand through his somewhat damp dark brown hair.

He gets off the couch and grabs his keys determined to find and make up with Y/N as soon as possible.

Having no clue where to even begin Quinn starts looking in some of their favorite places. He begins in a small cafe where he took Y/N on a first date, then a near by park where they frequently take walks in, even stopping by her work where he has surprised her with a lunch date multiple times through out the years. Still Y/N is no where to be found.

After searching for a good few hours Quinn starts to become seriously worried. He returns back home to the shared apartment hoping Y/N had come home by now unfortunately she has not.

Quinn begins going through his contacts calling a few of the numbers of people who are close friends with Y/N. Some answer and tell Quinn they haven’t seen or spoken to her in a few days. Others don’t answer at all.

Quinn continues to worry and rack his brain trying to figure out where Y/N would have gone and how to apologize to her.

Quinn eventually wears himself out and falls asleep on the couch.

———————————————————————

Around 7pm the door to Quinns apartment opens and he wakes up seeing Y/N walk into the apartment.

More relieved than anything Quinn sighs and rushes over to hug her wanting nothing more than to have her safe in his arms.

“Are you ok? Where have you been you had me worried sick?” Quinn frantically asks

“I went out Quinn” Y/N says displeasure still showing in her tone

“Y/N please please I am so sorry can we please just talk about it” Quinn says

“Talk about what Quinn I went to the game last night to surprise you and instead I hear you talking shit about me to Elias! If that’s how you feel about me than-” Y/N starts to shout but nearly breaks down in the middle

Quinn walks over and wraps his arms securely around her.

“Baby I’m so so sorry I didn’t I didn’t mean the things I said please let me make it up to you” Quinn practically begs

“Why did you say those things Quinn? Do you really think I’m that clingy? I’m sorry if I just want my boyfriend you travel a lot and when your home I just I just want to spend time with you” Y/N cries out

Quinn continues holding Y/N close placing a kiss on her forehead

“No baby I don’t I don’t at all I I had no right to say that I I was being an asshole and I was just upset but it’s no excuse I love you so much and I know I travel a lot and I miss you so much when I travel and I know you miss me too it’s you you’ve been through so much with me and I couldn’t do anything without you I’m so so sorry baby can you please please forgive me” Quinn apologizes hoping for forgiveness

Y/N moves her head out of Quinns chest and looks up at him with glass eyes

“Please forgive me” Quinn says matching her glass eyes

“I forgive you” Y/N says Quinn smiles at her and leans in to kiss her.

[pagesfromthevoid]

this is me trying | g.d. | 4

Ex!Gale Dekarios x fem!tav

Depression –This stage is characterized by a sense of mourning for what has been lost and can involve withdrawing from others, feeling hopeless about the future, and experiencing physical symptoms.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Suicidal ideations. Physical symptoms of depression

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

No one comes to visit her for a while, it feels like.

Maybe it’s only been a few days. Perhaps it’s been a few weeks. She isn’t really sure, because ever since her return from the House of Hope, she hasn’t left her room at the Elfsong. Alan sends food up as he sees fit, but she doesn’t speak to him or even open the door. He’s resorted to using the dumbwaiter so he knows she’s taking it.

She’s pretty sure Wyll is behind her being fed every day, but she doesn’t have the energy to find out.

Tonight, she does not take the food off the dumbwaiter. She can’t bring herself to get out of her bed, and the thought of eating makes her stomach turn. Her body aches and her head feels like the time Karlach accidentally hit her with the Foebreaker during a fight and Tav doesn’t know if it’s because she hasn’t eaten or because she’s actually sick. 

By the third day, she’s certain that she’s actually sick but also probably malnourished. But that doesn’t seem to make her care enough to eat. Tav is certain that if she gets out of bed, she’s going to collapse so she decides it’s still not worth it. The food has been delivered for breakfast, lunch and dinner for three days and for three days, she ignores it. She has a few things that have been sustaining her –stale bread that’s been in her bag for gods knows how long and water that she’s not absolutely certain where it came from. But she is eating –sort of, anyway. But she decides that food isn’t going to cure whatever her ailment is and that she would rather just lay in bed and waste away.

Good riddance, she thinks.

After her spectacle at Sorcerous Sundries, it only makes sense that people stopped caring about the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. She asked them to stop caring; she told them to fuck off and leave her alone.

And leave her alone they did.

Astarion has stopped his late night visits, though the missive she received from him the morning after her deal-gone-wrong stated that the moment she was ready, he would be back.

She isn’t sure when that will be. 

She isn’t sure if she will ever be, really.

Of all the people to not hate her after telling everyone else to fuck off, it would be Astarion. He’s done the same thing to them too, and rationally she knows her friends will treat her the same as they treated him when he lashed out at them in the past: with care, and patience, and love. But she’s not sure if that’s really the case for her. 

Shadowheart hasn’t reached out once, and neither has Wyll. Shadowheart is a busy person, so Tav doesn’t expect her to show up but Tav still wonders if Wyll told her what happened and now the cleric wants nothing to do with her. She wouldn’t blame Shadowheart if that was the case. 

Tav doesn’t blame Wyll in the slightest for not seeing her; she was cruel, and foul, and everything else one can be when they’re telling their friend to fuck off. Wyll should hate her, and while the rational side of her knows he probably doesn’t, the irrational side of her says he’s better off without her.

Everyone is better off without her.

The irrational side, as it seems to a lot lately, wins.

By the end of the week, Tav doesn’t feel great and all she has left is half a bottle of wine and bread that’s molding. Her clothes still smell like sulfur and cherries from when she returned from the House of Hope, but she hasn’t had the desire to change. The curtains in her room haven’t been opened in that time either, and the slightest stream of light hurts her eyes so she hides under her blanket to avoid it. She wonders, briefly, if this is how Astarion feels when he’s trapped inside as he awaits nightfall. Does the sun hurt his eyes?

The lock on her door is still broken, but whoever knocks does not open it.

“Tav, love,” Shadowheart greets, her voice muffled through the door. “Could I come in?”

Tav doesn’t respond immediately, still hiding under her blankets as she considers the state of her living space. It’s a mess, still overrun with the random items that she was organizing the day Wyll forced her out of the house. The piles are a bit less organized, some bleeding into the others and she’s going to have to reorganize them eventually. But the thought alone makes her stomach hurt and she groans.

Shadowheart takes that as a yes and opens the door.

“Sweet hells,” the cleric complains. Tav assumes she’s probably covering her face with her hand because, rationally, she knows the room smells awful. “Not even going to come out from your hiding space?”

Tav shakes her head under the blanket. There’s a moment of silence before she feels the bed dip and feels Shadowheart’s hand on her back from over the blanket.

“We’re all getting worried about you,” Shadowheart murmurs, rubbing soft circles on her back. “Wyll told me what happened –and Astarion saw you going to the Devil’s Fee the other night. What happened?”

Tav doesn’t reply still, thinking about how to explain that she tried to make a deal with Raphael and he turned her away. How does one explain that they’re so broken that the devil doesn’t want their soul? 

“I have a scroll of detect thoughts,” Shadowheart warns. “I will use it if you don’t talk to me.”

“Fuck you,” she mumbles into her pillow, but decides that she has more control over what she says than what she thinks. And there’s no way that Tav wants Shadowheart to see inside her head. 

“Moonmaiden’s blessing, she speaks,” Shadowheart teases as Tav peaks up from under her blanket. Just barely, but enough to show the cleric her puffy eyes and the bags that have formed. How gaunt her skin looks in comparison to the last time anyone has seen her. Shadowheart’s heart breaks in her eyes and Tav feels bad for burdening her friend. 

“Tell me what happened,” Shadowheart asks again, pulling the blanket back further.

And so Tav flips over some, looking up at the cleric properly, and tells her what happened. She starts at the beginning –about the promises Gale made her and the promises he broke, how Wyll tried to help her and how she had an absolute meltdown at Sorcerous Sundries, her failed deal with Raphael and how the devil didn’t even want her soul because she was so fucked up.

Tav doesn’t know how to stop the words from practically throwing themselves up from her throat but she’s talking, and she’s crying, and there’s no way anything she’s saying makes sense but Shadowheart nods and listens closely, hanging onto her every word. And when she’s finally just a blubbering mess, her sobs more frequent than her words, Shadowheart takes her hands gently and forces her to listen.

“You’re going to hate this –but I am very thankful that Raphael didn’t want your soul,” she says softly, reaching up with one hand to push Tav’s hair behind her ear. “No man is worth losing your soul over –especially a man who has no idea what he had when he had it.”

“I miss him,” Tav whispers, closing her eyes as the tears fall and stain her pillow.

“I know,” she replies, squeezing her hand softly. “And you’re allowed to miss him, Tav. But I think…I think it’s time to accept that he isn’t coming back.”

The thought has occurred to Tav –that he wouldn’t come back. She knows, deep down, Gale isn’t going to come back and even if he does –what will he expect of her? To become a god herself? To become his chosen, like he had been for Mystra? Tav knows deep down that she will never want either of those things; she has no desire to be a god. And she has no desire to be whatever Gale was for Mystra because she knows what Mystra did to him.

So Tav nods slowly, though she refuses to open her eyes. Shadowheart pushes her hair from her face one more time.

“I think you’ll feel better if you take a bath,” the cleric suggests, coaxing Tav to sit up. “And a little food in your belly will help too.”

Tav gives a weak nod, wiping her eyes as she sits up for the first time in a week. Her joints pop and her spine cracks, and she watches Shadowheart cringe at the sounds. 

“Do you…do you still have the sending stone?” Tav asks, looking up at Shadowheart with wet, puffy eyes. Shadowheart nods. “Can you…can we invite Astarion and Wyll?”

“Of course we can.”

[sirensplayhouse]

hii it’s ‘🪦’ anon. i wanted to come back for a quick second and share some stuff. recently, i’ve manifested so much stuff since i first sent an ask and even before that with only being in this year for two months.

month of janurary in order:

- my parents divorce being over after years (everything working out how we planned). this was also the reason i had got into LOA all those years ago, so i did cry for like a day straight, it was really my wakeup call.

- 2 week vacation to my favorite tropical area for the month of feburary (i just got back from traveling and i enjoyed myself sm)

- i tapped into the void state about two times that month as well. i affirmed for always being aware of when i’m in it.

- a healthier relationship with my family. the past few years i did struggle with feeling close with them but we’ve grown so much in a short amount of time now.

- 300 dollars worth of clothes + a skims dress (the package was gonna be way more and i had already spent a lot of money for the vacation in advance)

- three new pairs of desired shoes

- this was random but, my mom always gives me money monthly to spend freely or to save but i had already gotten that months worth. so i was like my mom is gonna give me more money, not even 30 minutes later she’s asking how much i wanted?? 😭😭

month of feburary in order:

- over the years my family has definitely gotten more lenient especially since i’m damn near grown LMAO but it feels nice to do stuff without feeling like there’s going to be consequences, so i manifested for my family to be more lenient with my desired things.

- to get rid of my cold/flu a few days before vacation. i had gotten “sick” (like a common cough and runny nose) from a family member. i haven’t been sick in years so i was genuinely pissed about it. i affirmed one night when i was sleepy to wakeup without the sickness, and when i woke-up it was gone.

- my sister got paid earlier than she expected. and the amount was a few more thousands than she normally would get. it was funny when she came to tell me because she always has to make a joke out of everything. 😭

- my mothers approval for more piercings and maybe even a tattoo? (probably not, i’d def pussy out LMDAOO)

- so this was the biggest one besides the divorce but we got offers for two homes. the same homes that we looked at years ago and it honestly freaked me out. i genuinely did want to move again so i could be closer to my friends house to hangout more (we both met through LOA about three years ago and just so happened to live almost an hour away). i glanced at both house listings online after talking to her and i believed that i was gonna move. NEXT DAY, MY MOM AND SISTER GOT TWO CALLS BACK TO BACK. so now we’re moving into both homes because of something that happened 😭 it’s not bad but it was funny. i’ll be there in less than a week so i’m excited!

- another thing that happened was earlier this month. i tapped into the void for fun through this guided hypnosis video post made by gorgeouslypink and i was curious. i didn’t have any intent on manifesting anything there nor did i actually think i was gonna go through with it. i laid down right after and i tapped into it immediately while following the last speaking. personally, i don’t feel the need for the void because at the end of the day, ts is a deep meditative state inside of me. manifesting in the void is instant, and so is manifesting any other way. i also texted my friend right before and after. she thought i was gonna do it another day by u disappeared for like an hour or two and she was shocked. i was gonna send proof of everything but idk how to do this shit through anon but changing the font tbh this is sad.

all of the stuff that i mentioned within these two past months were all manifested without using the void. i hope that this can bring more positivity and enthusiasm for a lot of people who’ll see this post. ofc you can use the void but realize your power, it all starts with you and ends with you. don’t forget that you promised yourself these things so give them to yourself. sending love 💓 i’ll check back in monthly probably bc this is fun sharing my experiences and using the pink font color 💟 see you next time!

babes……. HELLO YOU DID THAT🥺i’m so proud and happy for you ! 🫶🏾 you’re only gonna get better and better and i can’t wait🥰i hope you enjoy all you’ve manifested 🕺🏾and have an absolute ball

[theerrorofmylife]

Witch Queen Ch. 4

Thorin x Witch!Reader

It took me hours to find the sword types for this stupid chapter, and even longer when I spent a literal week reading about Ecthelion and the fall of Gondolin when I didn’t even need or use any of the information.

I GOT A DOG!! That’s kinda why I haven’t been as active, training and caring for her takes a lot of time, especially when she’s so young. I’ve also been sick for the past several weeks. I’m sick with the flu one week then I catch a shitty chest cold the next, it’s hellish.

I drank a ghost energy drink so I could stay awake and focus at work. Instead, I made this 2-3,000 words LONGER THAN WHEN I STARTED. Hehe whoops, I cut it off so that it wasn't longer than 5,000.... it would have been like... 7,000 if I hadn't.

Warnings: General LOTR/Hobbit danger, chase scene, non-important character death, reader can't run (just like me), Thorin and reader are so soft and in love its disgusting, kissing, smooches, these two get just a tad handsy, cursing, Thorin being rude to Elrond because he can be, elvish translated in italics directly after its said (unless translated by character). If there's any I missed, let me know.

“For you.” Turning to my right, I saw Thorin holding a sword out to me, the hilt glittering silver in the firelight of the ark troll cave. I recognized the thin scrolling designs and the soft, thin wrap of leather around the handle. It was of Elvish make, forged before my time, during the first age. I noticed another, very similar to it, in his other hand.

“It is beautiful, seronil, thank you.” I carefully took the blade from him, examining the sharp edge for nicks as he bound his own to his belt. Along the fine edge were several small places that looked worn, put to good use in battle I’d hope. It was not mine to examine for long before it was taken out of my hands. Looking up, Thorin had taken it and began strapping it to my side. My ears went hot as his hands ghosted my sides and my eyes scattered across the cave, only to find that the others had all left, most likely for shovels to make that ‘long-term deposit’.

“Âzyungâl,” He tightened the belt around my hips, and I lifted my face. I hadn’t even realized I was looking anywhere else besides him.

“These were forged in Gondolin… by the High Elves, of the First Age,” Gandalf spoke up from behind us, and Thorin’s face dropped into a scowl. Something about Thorin wishing we would have just a few minutes more to ourselves only to have Gandalf of all people interrupt him made me laugh silently. “You could not wish for a finer blade.” He was holding his own broad sword, straight and narrow opposed to our matching curved single edge falcatas. Leaning forwards, I pressed my lips to his cheek quickly before brushing past him and making my way out of the cave, paying extra attention to the ground as the reality of what I had done sets in. I hadn’t done that yet… neither had he, not really, I didn’t think kissing my hands counted quite the same.

 I snapped out of my thoughts as I nearly tripped, stopped short and looked up to take account of the others. They were scattered here and there, some talking about the gold in the troll cave, others talking about the journey ahead. It seemed like the calm after the storm had settled around us, as if we were finally going to get back to the monotonous journey once again. I could never be so lucky.

“Something’s coming!” Ori ran down from the rock top he was looking over. My hand reached over to pull my sword from my side as Thorin ran over and placed himself in front of me, his own sword already raised. A tethered pack of rabbits raced over the hill, pulling a sleigh behind it.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” A mad man raved as he came to a screeching halt in front of us. He was of man, not as tall as Gandalf, but younger, with a large nose and lichen growing down the side of his face, as if he were part tree. His hat had strange flaps at the sides, and his brown-greying hair and beard was matted and wild. A crazed look sat in his wide eyes, and he was rumbling nonsense. Gandalf was the first to move, placing his sword back at his side with a sigh of relief.

“Radagast! Radagast the Brown!” Radagast? He was one of the other Wizards Gandalf mentioned weeks ago. Relief quickly shifted to suspicion as Gandalf approached this new stranger, “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.” Radagast was out of breath, whispering bad omens and glancing about like he was scared of being watched.

“Yes?”

“Just give me a minute. Um…Oh! I had a thought and now I’ve lost it. It was…it was- was right there, on the tip of my tongue! Oh! It’s not a thought at all! It’s a silly old… stick insect.” A long green bug crawls out of his open mouth and I have to look away not to be sick at the thought. The two walk off, Gandalf separating Radagast from the prying eyes of the company. An unease settled over us as we lowered our weapons but not our guard. The two talked for some time, and some of the company had sat down, others conversing in small groups, while sat with Bilbo, talking about home.

He missed his home so much and he spoke of it so fondly of his house and his books and his peaceful days. He had many neighbors whose company he enjoyed, family who he dedicated his time to, and even the luxury of six meals a day. I’d like to think that, over the course of these past several weeks, I had found a friend in Bilbo. Much like a confidant, he seemed to be one of the few I could openly talk to about things without the topic of Thorin always coming up. For 13 dwarves who spent much of their lives with him, they sure do ask me about him a lot.

Howling in the distance set the party on edge. No one moved, some didn’t even breathe, all hoping the howling would pass.

“Was that a wolf?” Bilbo asked quietly beside me. I shook my head, knowing wolves would be better than what it actually probably was.

“Wolves? No… that was no wolf.” I whispered. Thorin came running down from the cliff’s edge, rocks sliding as he made a fast descend to the rest of the group.

“Warg Scouts! Which means an orc pack is not far behind.” Everyone began moving so fast, packing things and readying themselves. I stuffed my things into my pack, my mother’s book getting shoved in carelessly. Gandalf was yelling, something about telling someone something, I wasn’t really listening. I was brought out of my frenzied rush by Dwalin brushing past me.

“We have to get out of here.”

“We can’t! We have no ponies. They bolted.” Panic was setting in. In the near distance, the howling and barking got louder. Glancing around the group, I met Thorin’s eyes. He met mine as he looked around the group. He didn’t know what to do, how could he, this was the first time any of us heard about Wargs and Orcs being on our tail.

“I’ll draw them off.” Radagast spoke up, and Gandalf quickly tried to shut him down.

“These are Gundabad Wargs. They will outrun you!”

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits. I’d like to see them try.” I didn’t know what Rhosgobel rabbits were, but if it gave us a chance then I’ll take it.

As soon as Radagast’s sleigh cleared the tree line we made a run for it. All of us running low to the ground I don’t remember the last time I ran like this. My chest burned, the air cold on my throat, cheeks flushing. We moved from rock cluster to bolder, dodging the Wargs’ line of sight and praying the Radagast kept them busy enough for us to make it to the next rock cluster. Running up and down hill was killing me. My mind raced with unhelpful thoughts; ‘what if we didn’t all make it?’ ‘What if I didn’t make it?’ ‘Can Wargs be quiet enough to surprise us and kill us off one by one?’ Like I said, very unhelpful. Gandalf was leading us northeast, and something about it seemed familiar. I didn’t have time to ponder it though, because the farther we got from our starting point, the closer Radagast and the Warg pack got.

We were all waiting behind a single large rock cluster when claws scraping against stone and hungry growling slowly crept over the hill to our backs. We pressed ourselves to the stone, clinging to the hope that maybe the Warg and its rider would not see us. Little chips of stone fell on my shoulders as loud snorts made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on point. I think I was shaking, just a little, and my eyes focused on the expanse of yellowing grass, staggered pines, and tall, sharp stones. A hand unfocused my eyes as it came to hover above my collar bone. I followed the wrist, then the forearm, then the bicep, then the strong jawline, to the grey-blue eyes more focused on telling Kili to shoot the damn thing. The second his arrow flew we were made. He didn’t kill the scout, instead it took a second arrow to trip the Warg, and it tumbled off the hill in front of us. The scout got to its feet and ran at us, but Dwalin drove his axe into its side while Nori stabbed it repeatedly. It made so much noise, the sounds of the chase beyond had gone quiet. I shouldered Thorin out from in front of me, stretching my arm out to see the Warg hound clearly as I imagined holding the Warg’s skull in my hand, just above its spine. I pulled at the imaginary feeling until I just nearly felt it tangible and twisted my wrist harshly. The Warg’s neck snapped abruptly, and we all froze as the hills around us fell deathly silent. A horn, yelling in Orcish, and the howling started again, coming for us.

It wasn’t long before we were cornered, surrounded. We were all separated, in little groups of two or three, staggering and breathless. Looking over Nori’s shoulder, I caught sight of the boys and Thorin, a ways out to our left. Kili was shooting them one by one, but it did little to damage them. If he happened to land a successful shot, another Warg replaced it fast. My vision was blurring as I tried to keep track of everything. I couldn’t tell whether we were missing someone or if that was just the dizzying turn of my eyes.

“Where’s Gandalf?” Wait, what, where was Gandalf? He’s taller than everyone, he shouldn’t be hard to miss, so where-

“This way, you fools!” He appeared from behind a rock and the confusion mixed with the fear and the relief and made me sick. All this running was making me dizzy. I wasn’t built for running, I’m 5” with the physique of a relaxed walker… not a runner. One by one dwarves fell into the hidden tunnel, falling on top of one another, elbows, knees, and backpacks clashing down the steep fall. I pulled my arms up to shield my head as I rolled down the slope. My back hit the sharp ground, then my arms, then my back again.

Standing from the gravel littered ground, I began brushing myself off while narrowly avoiding elbows as the Dwarves did the same in the close proximity of the tunnel entrance.

“Kili! Run!” Thorin’s voice echoed down into the cave. The boys, Fili and Kili, were still out there. Fili came sliding first, and I grabbed his arms, pulling him out of the way as Kili followed shortly after. Watching the cave entrance, the longer it took for Thorin to join us, the longer panic took me over. Rocks and pebbles rained down on us as he came skidding to a halt. I breathed, filling my lungs fully for the first time since meeting Radagast. A horn sounded from somewhere nearby, and large hands pushed me back behind the party as a body fell after Thorin. An orc, unmoving, with an arrow sticking out of its back. Thorin pulled the arrow, examining it before throwing it in disgust. “Elves.”

The fear and sudden relief mixing in my chest were starting to make me sick. Looking over, I saw Thorin already looking at me, head tilted slightly as if to ask a question. I smiled and let my chest sink into a sigh as I nodded. I was ok. We were all ok.

“I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or not?” Dwalin interrupted our silent conversation.

“We follow it, of course!” There was shoving, and the party was slowly forming a line to walk down the path.

“I think that would be wise.” I heard Gandalf mutter and realized that this was part of his plan. He led us here, knowing we would find this place, and he knows where it leads. Thorin realized the same thing.

“Where are you leading us...?” He didn’t get a response, only a strange look before Gandalf walked off to keep the others on track. The others passed me, each nodding towards me, like a gesture of acknowledgement or respect. It was weird but I moved past it. I went to follow, but a hand pressed against my back and on instinct I relaxed back into the warmth. Thorin wrapped his hand from my back around to my side and pulled my back against his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to my left shoulder. “Are you alright, My Lady?”

I smiled again, turning to meet his eyes. “Yes, My King, simply not built for running like that.” He chuckled low nodding.

“You and me both.” He kissed my shoulder again, slowly this time, moving from my shoulder up my neck until he was pressing slow kisses on my pulse point, under my jaw. We really should catch up with the others. His hands held me tighter, holding me fast against his chest. No matter how warm he was against me, he gave me chill bumps along my arms and down my back, my neck slowly leaning to the side as if to open up for him. He littered my neck with his kiss as his hand slowly lowered from my side to my hip bone, grabbing, as if desperate to go lower.

“Thorin?” Dwalin calls from far along the pathway. My whole-body tenses and Thorin lets out a silent laugh. I’m glad he finds getting caught so amusing.

“I’m following, Dwalin. Let me go at my own pace.” His hands moved to my waist to rub circles into my back with his thumbs.

“Aye. And is the Witch moving at your pace as well?” My face flushed red and Thorin kept laughing. This bastard-

“She is.” He called after Dwalin and sighed into my shoulder. “Let’s go, My Lady. I fear I’ve kept you for too long.” We walked along the stone pathway, the rocks towering above us to create a ravine that let the sunlight dance down on top of us. I walked behind Thorin, fingers locked with his, and we trailed behind the others at a distance so that we could talk.

“What are we going to when we get to the end of this? Gandalf knows where we’re going, and I feel like I do to- I just can’t place it.” Thorin nodded.

“Wherever we end up, we stay close together, and we do not let our guard down. I don’t care if it’s a friendly place we’re headed to. If anyone catches wind of our true intentions, to enter the mountain and reclaim it, they will try to stop us.” I hummed in agreement. Since leaving Bag End, I had found it hard to disagree with his rough, secretive outlook on this quest. Clearly things were not as they seemed when it came to the mountain.

“What if it’s the elves? Gandalf had been asking about seeing them before the trolls, is it unreasonable to think he would lure us to them?” Thorin visibly sulked at the thought but shook his head.

“No, that’s most likely exactly what he’s doing. Whatever they want, they will not have.”

“And if they want to help us?” He shook his head again.

“They won’t, and you know it. We must be careful Amrâlimê.” I nodded but suddenly had a thought that had never occurred to me before.

“What does that mean?” He stopped, turning confused.

“What does what mean?”

“Amrâlimê. What is that word? You’ve said other singular words like it too, but I don’t recognize them. And the other A- one and the I- one! I do not know these and yet-”

“What are you talking about?!” He interrupted me and my eyes widened in annoyance. He wasn’t answering me, and I felt like he was doing that on purpose.

"There was one that Kili called me, Irak-something! Thorin, please!” He smiled and shook his head, that rare smile like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Irak’Amad, My Lady, is Aunt.” It took me a second to process but when I realized I smiled so wide my eyes crinkled. Fili and Kili have been calling me Aunt and I didn’t even know.

“And the others?” He looked down at my lips before meeting my eyes, his hands coming to sit on my hips again.

“Sanâzyung means perfect love,” he leaned in, pulling my chest against his. The way he spoke his native tongue, deep and rumbling in his chest, it made my head hazy. “and Âzyungâl means lover,” His head tilted down, lips a breath away from mine, so close I could feel him speaking against mine. “and Amrâlimê… means my love.” He gently pressed his lips to mine and suddenly the very thought of not kissing Thorin felt detrimental to my health. We had never kissed like this before; it had always been on the hands or shoulders. We were always with people, or in danger, never alone with no one to interrupt. It was slow, and I gently wrapped my hands around the back of his neck, threading my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. He sighed through his nose, and we would have stayed there like that for hours had we not heard the others. Gasps of surprise and Dwalin calling Thorin’s name, sounding mildly panicked, broke us apart once again and this time it was I who sighed in agitation.

“We will never be alone, will we.” He gave a wry smile, pressing his lips to mine again, quickly this time. I didn’t want this to end, who knows when we’d get another chance to be so close. But the mission pressed on, and the road was long before the end of our journey.

 We caught up with the others and I was stunned at what I saw. Tall, spiraling, elegant towers, graceful waterfalls under delicate bridges stretching across the great expanse of the mountain’s edge. Great halls with high arches and curving stone glittered in the afternoon light. The great Elven estate was built in the mouth of the valley, looking out over the river as it extends east.

“The Valley of Imladris. In the common tongue, it’s known by another name.” Gandalf spoke over our awe, rounding the ledge as we all looked on.

“Rivendell.” A whisper came from my left and I looked over to see Bilbo, eyes wide.

“Here lies the last homely house, east of the sea.” I remember coming here, once, a long time ago with Thranduil. I was incredibly young, and I don’t remember the details, but I remember the feeling. This is home, without it every having been home. Thorin moved past me, anger masked by narrowed eyes and squared shoulders.

“This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy.” ‘Enemy’ was such a harsh word and yet I couldn’t really find fault with his point of view. I disagree, I believe Lord Elrond will help us more than hinder us, but in Thorin’s mind it wasn’t just Thranduil that abandoned his people that day. To Thorin, it was every Elf, every person who aligns themselves with the Elves or calls the Elves friend was liable to Thorin’s distaste.

Gandalf sneered at him, scrunching his nose as he snapped at Thorin, “You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.”

“You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us.” The king tilts his head, wryly calling the ancient wizard’s choices into question. Gandalf had none of it, acutely aware of what Lord Elrond would have to say.

“Of course, they will. But we have questions that need to be answered,” He walked through the party, making his way to the stone step path that led down to the first bridge. “If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm, which is why you will leave the talking to me.” I rolled my eyes. Thorin went first and I followed second, taking his hand to step down as the steps became steeper and more detailed. We walked shoulder to shoulder in pairs along the narrow bridges until we came to two tall Elven statues standing guard in front of a large circular courtyard. We filed into the courtyard, slowly regrouping and breaking off to talk separately in smaller groups. I stayed near Thorin, my hand resting against his shoulder as he and Dwalin discuss escape routes. From the steps above, a young Elf passes by two guards and almost don’t recognize him.

“Mithrandir.” Lindir was the right hand of Lord Elrond and had been for some time now. I had known him when he was younger, and to think that he had risen so far was surprising. He was always so… carefree as a young Elf. The two stepped closer, speaking Quenya in hushed tones. Thorin turned his head to Dwalin and I.

“Stay sharp, and you stay behind me.” I snapped my head towards him.

“I know the people here. Lord Elrond is a kind man, he will help us I know it, please trust me.” He met my eyes with skepticism, but I stared him down, knowing I was right. Suddenly a horn sounded behind us, and the clattering of dozens of horse hoofs spooked the company.

“Close ranks!” I was pulled back into a crowd of dwarven elbows as they close in around each other. The hunting party circles us until they have is hidden by rings of Elven warriors. A man I had met only a few times in my life dismounts from the head of the hunting party and approaches Gandalf happily.

“Gandalf!” He smiled wide and it felt like I was in the presence of peace and tranquility. Like he polluted the air with a calm demeanor and made everyone feel safe. Everyone except the dwarves. Gandalf bowed and began speaking with him in Quenya, too fast for me to easily translate. I slipped my hand into Thorin’s, pressed so close to each other that no one noticed. Until I was addressed.

“(Name), Niethir iin Eryn Galen, Thranduilwen!” (name), Niethir of the Greenwood, daughter of Thranduil! Looking up, I met his smile and reciprocated a relived one of my own.

“Hér Elrond!” I bowed my head and slowly eased my way out of the group. Thorin squeezed my hand, and I stopped short of leaving from directly in front of him. He held onto me, and I held onto him. Elrond saw this but made no note of it.

“Quenyalda aryaië?” Your Quenya is improving? My cheeks flushed as I remembered the promise I made to him when I was much younger. I told him I would learn every language I could, and that I’d be able to speak to him in perfect Quenya one day. At the time, I wanted to impress both him and Thranduil.

“Paranya, au lenca.” I am learning, if only slowly.

“Naylë arya malda nyanya,” You are better than most. I smiled widely and nodded in thanks. “Si casar, carltë lenda asillo?” These dwarves, do they travel with you? I looked to Thorin quickly before looking back to Elrond.

“Lá, málonya.” Yes, my friends. He nodded and grinned. Looking past me, he focused on someone else behind me and I felt Thorin’s hand tighten in mine.

“Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain.” Thorin came to stand beside me as he was addressed.

“I do not believe we have met.” I almost sensed haughty arrogance from Thorin, like he was waiting to make some snide comment.

“You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled Under the Mountain.”

“Indeed? He made no mention of you.” Ah. There it is. I rolled my eyes and met Elrond’s once again. The right corner of his lip quirked upwards so fast and so little that I almost missed it. Almost.

“Si gonnhirrim arldë alatulyaië imi Rivendell. Silómë merenlmë, málonlda arldë fúmë hí.” I sighed and smiled brightly, nodding happily in thanks. He turned and began walking back up the stairs but was stopped when Gloin spoke up in rage.

“What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?” He pushed his way to the front. I jostled as the others moved to make room for him. Gandalf turned to us, obviously tired of the Dwarves’ antics.

“No, Master Gloin, he's offering you food.” The Dwarves froze and suddenly turned in to whisper tightly between each other. Thorin and I leaned in, and my lips just barely brushed his cheek.

“His exact words were that you are welcomed in Rivendell, and that we may feast and sleep here tonight, but Gandalf was never good at translating.” I spoke low and soft, so that he was the only one to hear me. He grinned and turned slightly, his eyes crinkling at the edges. His lips were so close to mine, but the others had already started moving towards the stairs and there wasn’t time. He pressed our foreheads together, the side of his nose against mine, eyes closed. It lasted only a second or two, but it became my favorite thing. We were led up the stairs farther into the estate, past large columns and gorgeous waterfalls, other Elves passing us. They nodded towards me when they recognized me, and the Dwarves started to take notice. Thorin leaned into my side, the little braid that hung by his ear knocking into my shoulder.

“They know you here?” I nodded, still scanning the area as we crossed another bridge with no railings.

“I came here once a really long time ago, but it’s more likely they know me because I’m a witch, one of the last, remember?” There was a pause before he nodded, lips closed tight as if something suddenly bothered him. I saw this, but I couldn’t figure out what it could have been. Thorin was always stoic these days, always looking ahead for the danger, always thinking of what-ifs. Moments like this I remembered just how different he is now compared to when we first met. The carefree, smiling young man who led me down backstreets and alleyways got smothered by time and grief and hurt. “Thorin,” I bumped his shoulder with mine lightly, “What are you thinking?”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes, looking off in the distance, before looking down at the stone walkway. “You are the last of your kind… that never truly struck me until now. To be the last of your kind, alone in the world, without anyone who truly understands… I’m sorry.” I was shocked. I guess that made sense, though I never really thought of it like that. Yes, I was most likely, almost definitely, the last Witch in Middle Earth, but it didn’t make me as sad as it probably should have.

“Don’t be. As much as it sounds horrible, I don’t feel bad being the last.” His head snapped towards me, eyes wide and worried.

“Why-”

“Come, you are to feast with Lord Elrond. Then, you will be escorted to the bath houses. Lady Niethir, you are welcomed to the separate house for privacy.” I nodded in thanks before lowering my head to speak to Thorin quietly again.

“I’ll tell you later, Ara Nín. Let’s at least have tonight before we step back into the world.” He nodded reluctantly and took my hand in his, kissing the back before pulling me with him into the dining room with the rest of the company. 

@mrsdurin ,@capricorn-anon, @emmapotato88 , @dontaskmehowdontaskmewhy , @eilin-brillewin​ @hpthalia126 , @undecided-about-everything-ever , @dark-chxos, @artemis-the-ace, @floatingintheshire

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[quills-of-freedom]

Short Story ~

Collision 💥

Female bodied reader X Annie Leonhart

You and your girlfriend Annie have been doing nothing but argue these past few weeks; it's a shame, really, considering how well you usually get on. Well, your friends are sick of it and have come up with a plan...

Warnings: Smut. 18 + Only.

“Did Niccolo bake it?” You ask innocently, yet eagerly as you walk down the hallway with Armin and Connie.

You didn’t know something as delicious as fancy cakes existed until you met that wonderful cook.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Armin replied avoiding your gaze.

Your pace quickens as you shuffle along. You had to get some of that delicious dessert before Sasha inevitably catches wind of it. You expectingly raise your nose in the air, knowing you were nearing the kitchen, nostrils flaring, hoping to catch scent of the usual deicacies that aromates through the air.

Nothing.

You round the corner and…

You’re met with Jean, Sasha and Annie who were standing outside of the kitchen also. Annie’s eyes flicker for a moment, before stabbing into a harsh scowl.

Shit I’m too late.

You still haven’t caught on, your usually sharp mind clouded with the lust for a food item.

“Back off Braus. Let us have some -” before you could finish your sentence you and Annie were harshly shoved into the room, the door slamming and locking behind you.

“What the hell, guys?!” You yell through the solid wood, slamming your fist against the door.

“You two have been fighting none stop all week.” Jeans muffled voice calls out. “It’s distracting as hell. Sort it out and we’ll let you out.”

“Yeah!” You hear Connie chime in. “The wars out there man… OUT THERE!”

“Just you wait til I get my hands on you Kirstein!” You yell in a temper.

“Typical.” Annie mutters behind you, makin you turn and glare at her. “Resorting to anything rather than just growing up and facing your problems.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Annie.” You roll your eyes and fold your arms. “Just pretend we’ve made up and we can get out quicker.”

“No.” Her monotone voice replied.

You arch and eyebrow, trying to keep your cool. You didn’t want to prove her right by losing it.

“What do you mean, no?”

“They’re right. It’s distracting. We smooth this over, now.”

She was half being truthful. It was indeed distracting for the others, but at the forefront of her mind was how it was distracting her. It hurt that you two weren’t getting along; she cared for you a hell of a lot and having thoughts of you cloud over her mind was getting under her skin.

“What’s that?” You exaggerate your movements and place your hand by your ear, tilting your head. “Is that the sound of Annie thinking she can tell people what to do? Again? No way…”

Annie glares at you, her teeth bore into a vicious snarl before…

Swoosh.

Her leg flicked up in a kick to your head, but you caught her blow, her ankle in your hand. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

Is she that wound up?

“Annie…” You whisper, your fingers digging into the skin of her lower leg.

Her eyes soften; hurt that her literal knee jerk reaction could have hurt you. “Y/N… I -”

You smirk before she could finish and yank her forward, giving her the only option to hop towards you on one leg, lest she fall on her ass.

Resting her leg on your shoulder you move your hands onto her back to keep her steady; this position a breeze for the flexible Annie Leonhart. Your heart begins to race as her body heat rolled off her onto you, her scent pleasing you more than that cake ever would.

God you’d missed her. You didn’t enjoy fighting with her either.

Your right hand slithers down her back and around to her peachy backside, putting your face close to hers with a sly grin. “God I’ve missed you.”

Her lips instantly collide with yours, a hopeless high pitched moan echoing in her throat as those beautiful blue eyes clasped shut.

Gently lowering her leg back down, you press her against the wall, your hands pawing at her hungrily as her pleading hands grab onto your clothes, tugging.

You pull her shirt open and she begins to tug down your trousers, sliding her sweet tongue into your mouth.

“I’ve missed you.” She breathed as you step out of your pants, moving her over to a table and sitting her on it, your fingers digging into the elastic of her trousers and pulling them off in one swift movement. Your kisses find their way to the crook of her neck where she gasps as your teeth sink into her flesh.

Your hand grabs her crotch; her panties already damp with wanting. Your lips graze up her stomach and back up to her neck.

“Of course you missed me.” You breathe, still pretty pissed from your week of arguing.

Her hand finds its way to your neck, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Watch who you’re talking to like that.” Her body was fired up, burning with a swirling toxic concoction of lust and anger.

Ignoring her, you just remove her panties, pulling them down her gorgeous, toned legs. You yank yourself away from her grasp, pushing her back and instantly sucking her clit into your warm cave.

“Ah~!” She cries out, fisting at your hair while you harshly add immense pressure with your tongue.

Her face is flush as she begins to rock her hips, gladly riding your face into glory. Taking your two fingers you slide them inside of her tight pussy, moaning at how wet you’ve gotten her before you hook your fingers and begin to rock her harshly.

“Ah! Y/n! Shit!” She squeals, her legs locking together against your head.

“Always could get you to roll your eyes in more ways than one.” You sneer.

She ignores you, too hazed to bite.

Returning to your feet, you push her back and pull her to you, lining up both of your sopping clits before colliding them - the table being the perfect height to do so.

You both groan and whine as your cunts rub together, you place your leg up over hers for better access, turning slightly.

“Fuck Annie… You’ feel so good.” You hiss as she bucks her hips into yours, her high pitched groans only adding to your sensual pleasure.

“y/n. I’m going to…” She begins, her grip on your arm tightening.

“Me too.” You grunt, your pace quickening, the feel of her heated sex against yours beyond heavenly.

You both cry out the others name loudly as you ascend, your legs shaking as your cunts seemingly begin spitting at each other, your cum mixing and swirling, splashing against you both.

Panting, you plant a soft kiss onto her lips before standing and pulling your panties back up.

“I guess that’s sorted it then.” You laugh softly.

She just nods, face still crimson and body still quaking.

You both get dressed, slightly giddy with relief and satisfaction when..

Click.

The door unlocks.

Annie’s eyes fly to yours, both of you totally forgetting your friends were in close proximity of your… “Intervention”

With a deep breath, you both meekly step outside, to be greeted with;

“…We made up.” You press your lips together tightly.

“…Yeah. We know.”

[waitmyturtles]

Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: Make It Right (Season 2) Edition

TW: suicidal ideation, suicide attempt

[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. I’ve covered Love Sick, SOTUS, Make It Right (season 1), and Together With Me so far, and today I offer my thoughts on Make It Right, season 2.]

Alright! Like I mentioned last week in my analysis of Together With Me, this review of Make It Right, season 2, is out of order chronologically from my watchlist (pasted below), as I mixed up the air dates of TwM and MIR2 -- MIR2 aired before Together With Me. I do have some quick thoughts on what I saw in TwM that may have been inspired by MIR2 -- we’ll get to that later in this post.

I’ve been noodling a lot on how I want to frame out my thoughts on this gorgeous second season of Make It Right -- and to focus in general on why this series hasn’t gotten the kind of historical love that I think it ABSOLUTELY deserves. Separately and recently, I’ve been feeling very wiggly and bummed out about what’s happening in BL fandom by way of episodes of Step By Step being edited to remove meta commentary about shipping culture and the BL industry -- and it made me wonder whether there are points to be made about shipping culture regarding MIR and its historical significance. The absolutely wonderful @miscellar​ has noted for me that MIR gave rise at least to Thai teenage actors participating in this culture for the first time. (Thank you for all the conversations, @miscellar​!)

The whole Step By Step debacle last week got me heated. But I think, after VERY helpful and calming conversations with @bengiyo​ and @lurkingshan​ (THANK YOU, MY DEAR FRIENDS!), that the general historical regard for MIR is not directly related to a criticism of whole-scale shipping culture per se. (I’ll save all this shipping criticism for another post and another day, very much informed in part by this incredible post by @absolutebl​ from last year.)

Despite all of this, I think there’s something here about the ways that the majority BL fandom accept the complications of queer life, and depictions of queer joy and emotional equity, that I want to pick apart later in this post.

Before I do that: let me offer some critical thoughts on the second season as a way of addressing pitfalls that may have held MIR2 back in the historical reminiscence of respect and/or nostalgia that other shows, like Love Sick and SOTUS, have around them. Thanks to @lurkingshan​ for talking this through in part with me. 

1) After reading more about MIR on Tumblr and Reddit, it really seems to me like the number one reason why people haven’t glommed more onto MIR/MIR2 is because of the youth of the actors and the heat of the show’s few intimate scenes -- which, as I wrote in my post on the first season, is interesting to me, because teenagers have sex in real life. At least for me, the youth of the actors did not make me uncomfortable, and in conversations with @bengiyo​, it was amazing to me to see queer love BEING ENJOYED by young men -- and in @bengiyo​‘s paraphrased words, to see those young men not suffer in their societies and families because of that queer love. (Let me also reference Perth Nakhun’s recent video about the BL industry and his joy about acceptance in shows.)

2) @lurkingshan​, I agree with you that there are MANY editing fumbles in this second season, particularly related to how sex was portrayed between classmates Lukmo and Yok (Yok, who very strongly defended his out sexuality to his mother in the first season). New Siwaj and his side couples, man. Rodtang and Nine still confound me. But I agree with @lurkingshan​ when she stated to me that the weirdly filmed and edited sex scenes -- which, I think, were likely included as a way to hew closely to MIR’s canon novel, but that is ONLY a guess -- undermined Yok’s actual very emotional, VERY beautifully acted journey in realizing that a bisexual Lukmo was falling in love with him (Yok), a very out and gay young man. Sex scenes that included mortars and pestles (yep), weird pacing, food metaphors...it didn’t seem to work, and undermined Mo and Yok’s emotional journey. But I really don’t know if I’m missing something by way, again, of cultural reference back to the canon novel. 

The other major editing fumble that @lurkingshan​ and I both noted is that interspersed in Frame’s tending to Book after a major emotional disaster for Book, is that Frame seems to have gotten a tattoo of their names that he then gets removed -- but we never saw him get the tattoo in the first place, and the reason why he gets it removed isn’t consistent with the ending of the series.

Many of you know New Siwaj better than me (A Boss and a Babe just ended, and I heard there were thoughts about the ending), and I’m going to get to know him more later in my watchlist. I know he likes to throw in all this side couple action without always tying knots eloquently. I’d say again (sorry @bengiyo​!) that the RodtangNine ship was unnecessary, and that while Mo and Yok were fine -- that Yok’s trust journey to Mo was really the most compelling part of the ship, and that was about it.

All of what I’ve just stated can, and has, definitely held MIR/MIR2 back in the historical regard, like I said earlier.

BUT.

I will make a VERY STRONG ARGUMENT, as I did for the first season, that it is ABSOLUTELY WORTH watching through that stuff to get to the gold of the second season. Overall, this second season gutted me. 

While I’ve mentioned New Siwaj as a director and screenwriter throughout both of my MIR posts, I haven’t talked enough about Cheewin Thanamin, New’s collaborator on both seasons of MIR. I posted a lot during my late-night blogs about how Cheewin and his character in the show, Christina, were an ABSOLUTE WONDER in this second season. This is Cheewin/Christina comforting Yok after Yok worries about Lukmo’s investment in their relationship:

Imagine watching this after Love Sick and SOTUS -- two shows that did not address being gay. And then we have Christina/Cheewin going right to the heart of it in MIR.

I bring up Cheewin not only because his Christina was a wonder, but because he directed the much more recent Bed Friend -- and, as I noted in my post-watch flip-out after finishing MIR2 -- that I saw a LOT of MIR2 in Bed Friend and vice versa.

Not to spoil anything, but not only do the two main ships, TeeFuse and FrameBook, have happy endings -- but they have emotionally complicated journeys to get to those endings during the second season. 

As @absolutebl​ has noted often, the second season of MIR is even more chaotic than the first. (If I’m doing a Bed Friend comparison here, I’ll think of episodes four/five/six, where Uea’s trauma seems to just pile up, and us viewers are like -- how the HELL are they gonna get out of this.)

Tee and Fuse are confirmed in love, but Fuse does NOT leave his girlfriend, Jean. Frame and Book are confirmed as a couple, but Book is held back by an unrevealed insecurity, that turns out to be related to a sex tape he was unwittingly filmed in by an ex-boyfriend -- and then the video is released to the audience of his high school classmates.

Fucking chaos. My dear man, Fuse -- bro should have DEFINITELY LEFT JEAN earlier in the series, because Jean was DEFINITELY TWO-TIMING HIM with a dude she was calling HER BROTHER, that Fuse had NEVER MET in the course of their relationship (?!). 

And, poor, sweet, patient Tee. Tee, being courted by dudes all around him. Tee who, after FINALLY being able to be with Fuse, after Fuse FINALLY comes to his senses -- Tee holds himself back, and gives himself the space to recognize what’s happening between him and Fuse. He sees what’s happening with his mom and her new boyfriend, and how the new boyfriend’s behavior might be a little concerning -- but that the boyfriend decides to ultimately hold himself responsible for his own behavior to make Tee’s mom happy and stable. And after all of that -- SEEING how his mom’s boyfriend will stabilize himself, SEEING how Fuse stabilizes himself -- Tee finally dives in with Fuse with love and commitment. GORGEOUS.

FrameBook. MY GUYS. Frame, head over HEELS in love with Book. Book, SWEET Book, holding back with secrets about his past. We learn that Book is very bisexual, having had a boyfriend in the past who filmed their sex. Book, questioning himself as a “good person” in the case the video got leaked, and Frame confirming with conviction that he would be at Book’s side if anything ever happened. The video gets leaked, and Book loses it. Frame is by his side as much as Book will allow it, with Book pushing Frame away constantly, to the point of a suicide attempt that Frame saves Book from. 

These are stories of unintended trauma. Uea’s life story in Bed Friend was one of unintended trauma. What New and Cheewin are showing us in MIR2 are the stories of trauma that arise from these young men -- these LOVELY, well-intentioned, queer young men -- FINDING THEMSELVES in a society that is DESIGNED by paradigms to be INFORMED by toxic masculinity, internalized and externalized homophobia, cishet societal prioritizations, and much more working against them.  

Fuse doesn’t leave Jean literally because he feels bad for her. Because society TELLS HIM he SHOULD feel bad for a girl who, what? Pretends to like him? Book is driven to a suicide attempt because a same-sex sex tape could bring down the careers of his demanding and absent parents, and could condemn him at school. Christina comforts Yok as Yok waits for Lukmo to get over his ex-girlfriend, with Christina saying to Yok, “Lukmo is not like us, Yok.”

This second season focused on how the bigger aspects of bigger society could have potentially held the guys back. Even after Tee and Fuse are very much a couple, they overhear homophobic comments in a cafe, and Fuse needs to pull Tee back. Fuse no longer has any reason to hold back his love for Tee, and he’s certainly not going to let social homophobia stop him, after the mistakes he went through with Jean. 

I didn’t realize what was happening by way of comparing Bed Friend to MIR2 until the last two episodes of MIR2. Remember that the last two episodes of Bed Friend were just joyful. (I mean, Pran’s dad gets his, and Uea’s mom freaks out, but whatever -- they ended in the right places for Uea and King.) (And, yachts.)

For me, the last two episodes of MIR2 slowed everything down into a burst of joy, like Bed Friend. The boys went to the beach. Cheewin took them to the water before he took Uea and King there in Bed Friend.

Book survived. He’s beyond thankful for Frame’s interventions and loyalty. 

Fuse has the most gorgeous confession to Tee.

They become boyfriends. Two months go by. Frame and Book are asked to model same-sex wedding photos (had we seen that yet in a Thai BL, in 2017?) And then Frame proposes -- like, actually proposes!

Besides that proposal, there were so many other moments, as I blogged about, in the last episode that really moved me, and again, took me back to Bed Friend. I’ll repeat myself from that last blog post and from earlier in this post:

I think what New and Cheewin did was VERY intentional in including stories of trauma. Make It Right was meant to show journeys to queer joy and emotional equity on behalf of young queer men -- young queer men JUST LIKE New and Cheewin themselves at the time they made MIR.

As I wrote in my final Bed Friend review, there were folks on the Bed Friend tag that wondered if Bed Friend needed the last two episodes. I strongly argue that the series ABSOLUTELY needed those episodes, to show the LOVE and JOY that had grown between Uea and King after everything they had gone through -- that queer men DESERVE JOY, even if, AND ESPECIALLY IF, they’ve gone through journeys of trauma at the hands of microsystemic and macrosystemic society that generally condemns queerness, and does not celebrate it.

Make It Right and Bed Friend showed that our boys can fight, win, and be happy. THEY CAN DO IT. THEY WILL NOT LET SOCIETY HOLD THEM BACK. 

Goddamn. We got two proposals in MIR2 and in Bed Friend, in a country that has not legalized same-sex marriage.

Both MIR/MIR2 and Bed Friend were marketed as high heat shows (thanks to @lurkingshan​ for this link!). Especially with Bed Friend, I think myself and other viewers were thrown with the subsequent trauma-informed storylines.

But I think that was Cheewin being fucking REAL. He was real about both his shows.

As compared to Love Sick and SOTUS -- MIR2 was complicated! It WAS chaotic. The dudes WERE young. Fuse was complicated vis à vis Jean. In real life, Ohm and Toey’s ship ended when Toey and his girlfriend were bullied by BL fans. That shit’s messed the fuck up.

I can absolutely understand why MIR/MIR2 doesn’t live in the history books as a must-watch, the way that folks have nostalgia for Love Sick or even SOTUS. MIR/MIR2 are not at all linear stories. (Not to say that Love Sick was linear -- but it treated its characters much more lightly.)

Cheewin gave us stories of how complicated queer joy is in the face of the social impediments that the queer community -- in this case, queer young men -- face. That brutality can be hard to deal with. It’s not fluffy. These are not fluffy storylines. Book WAS DEVASTATED by every single implication of his unwitting sex tape being released. Frame’s heart and patience WERE hurt by Book pushing him away. Tee’s patience WAS tested, time and time and time again. In real life, the OhmToey ship ended BECAUSE fans demanded a fluffy false reality to that ship continuing. Both on-screen and off, MIR carried complicated baggage.

I argue that for fans of BL, that Make It Right/Make It Right 2 are must-watches, because of that complicated nature. When Together With Me airs after Make It Right, we get streamlined down again -- ONE major couple, one focus, and guaranteed high heat, with only light (and sometimes toxic) side couples.

Make It Right instead lifts viewers into the complicated soup, and that’s where I like to live in my favorite dramas. I like trauma-informed storylines, because if a show is successful at unwinding them, the payoff is usually SO much more satisfying.

But trauma also hews to reality. If I see my beloved characters struggling AUTHENTICALLY? As a person, as a mom, as an ally, I’m all that more connected to what I’m watching. Because I know that trauma for young queer men, in REAL life, is VERY REAL, within the paradigms of homophobia and other societal guardrails that implicitly inform how we all behave vis à vis each other.

Make It Right, as I wrote in my review of the first season, was ultimately about young queer men making their lives RIGHT FOR THEMSELVES. Subsequently, Bad Buddy did it for its boys. Bed Friend did it for its boys.

Make It Right did it first. Make It Right, in its two seasons, took us through very detailed journeys that got our boys to their right places, in a most beautiful, sophisticated, and emotional way. 

I’m thankful that New and Cheewin took us on these journeys. Whatever biases we may hold against the series -- question those biases. Go on this journey with these characters, and celebrate young queer love, because it’s absolutely worth celebrating. 

[Oh man -- I’m a little wiped! Not only did MIR2 totally gut me, but I decided to take on Step By Step to join the protest against extreme BL fandom (lol), so I’m a little behind on starting SOTUS S. But that’s up next. And I know I’m also going to be taken for a spin over the course of the next two weeks with Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy/ATOTS, so expect a few delays from me on this project with those detours as well.

Talking to @bengiyo and @lurkingshan about Make It Right/Make It Right 2 was an UTTER pleasure. THANK YOU AGAIN, FRIENDS. I so appreciate you both taking the time to unwind with me.

Here’s the watchlist as it currently stands. One quick update: after @manogirl​​ suggested watching Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey 1 and 2 for its BL cuts/OffGun exposure, I’ve decided to add it to the list. @manogirl​​, you were totally right about my adding a ship focus with MaxTul/Together With Me before, so I’m following your lead again with OffGun. THANK YOU for your thoughts! (And thank GAWD those cuts are short!)

As ever, I’ll always take recommendations and thoughts from the fam!

1) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here) 2) SOTUS (2016) (review here) 3) Make It Right (2016) (review here) 4) Make It Right 2 (2017)   5) Together With Me (2017) (review here) 6) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018) (watching) 7) Love By Chance (2018) 8) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018) 9) He’s Coming To Me (2019) 10) Dark Blue Kiss (2019) 11) TharnType (2019) 12) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (I’m watching this out of order just to get familiar with OffGun before Theory of Love -- will likely not review) 13) Theory of Love (2019) 14) Dew the Movie (2019) (not an official part of the OGMMTVC watchlist, but I want to watch this in chronological order with everything else) 15) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020) 16) 2gether (2020) 17) Still 2gether (2020) 18) I Told Sunset About You (2020) 19) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (not a true BL, but a MaxTul queer/gay romance set within a genre-based show that likely influenced Not Me and KinnPorsche) 20) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here) 21) I Promised You the Moon (2021) 22) Not Me (2021-2022) 23) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here) 24) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here) 25) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here) 26) My School President (2022-2023) 27) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here)]

[timaeusterrored]

Neither were exactly stoked about this party. The label wanted to throw it in celebration of Kerry’s marriage to V, to try and make V seem as normal as possible. There was already a scandal going on with the whole Kerry marrying his ‘bodyguard’, and some of the gangs in V’s world finding out about Kerry made V actually sick. He also found a long lasting side effect to the relic was coughing up blood when having a high emotion. Amazing.

The couple was quiet in the limo, Kerry’s anger and V’s anxiety were not a good mix. V hadn’t wanted to keep it a secret forever, but he thought they’d at least have more time to enjoy their marriage before the label found out and rumors began to spread. It was exhausting for both of them.

V slowly rested his head on Kerry’s shoulder, expecting to be jerked away but instead earned a gentle kiss on the forehead and yet another apology. He had been doing that a lot recently, apologizing. And it was probably from the horror of seeing blood in V’s hand again after a coughing fit.

“You apologize one more time and no sex for a week.” V muttered, earning a quiet laugh.

“Yeah right, like you could last a week without sex. You’d have to sleep somewhere else to get your hands off of me.” Kerry teased back. And he was probably right. With V getting stronger and stronger, the more he wanted Kerry. And the more both were relieved it wasn’t Johnny’s feelings that spurred their romance in the beginning.

“I hate it when you’re right.” V stated, feeling Kerry rest his head on his own. It was nice, and despite it all, Kerry was a good husband. No matter what he or anyone else said.

He saw the venue coming up and could already see the crowd and flashing lights and he felt sick again. He didn’t realize he had squeezed Kerry’s hand a bit to hard until he was squeezing back.

“Remember what Misty taught you, deep breaths okay? Just for like, an hour, then we can sneak out..” Kerry had promised that. Just go to the part for an hour and then they could sneak away.

V did straighten (haha) up before they got out. Kerry put on his charming smile, leading V up the stairs. This was for them, and neither even wanted to be here.

“Mr. Eurodyne! What is it like being married again after all these years?” A reporter asked, and Kerry just smiled.

“I haven’t been this happy in years, he’s my everything and more!” That answer was.. surprisingly honest.

“And well, the newest Mr. Eurodyne, what’s it’s like being married to a rock legend like Kerry?” God just kill him now. How the hell does Kerry deal with this.

“Like he said, I haven’t been this happy in years. I couldn’t ask for a better husband.” Short and sweet V, short and sweet. He could talk Judy’s ear off for hours about how much he loved Kerry, but not here. He didn’t want to talk more than he had too.

Kerry lead him instead, and the applause and cheers took him slightly off guard. He saw people he knew and people he didn’t. And Kerry lead him right to Denny and Nancy, where he knew V would be slightly more comfortable. And despite them both being at the wedding, they gave hugs and congrats once again.

Kerry took a flute of champagne as he walked up to the podium to give the requested speech, V sat with the ladies.

“So, I immediately know what you’re all thinking. Eurodyne’s having his six life crisis in the past ten years.” Kerry’s charisma was undeniably, and so was his smile. God what was there not to love? Johnny fumbled this one hard.

“But I wasn’t lying. I haven’t been this happy in years. I’ve never been the best with actual words, obviously the guy has a whole album about him now, and everything I say in it is true, V means the world to me. We met at a dark time in my life and it’s safe to say he saved it, and not just the dumbasses that try to kill me because another dumbass said so. He is my muse so to speak, a nickname worth a thousand words and I still don’t think a thousand words could fit about how much I care about him.” Kerry got a few coos at that, and V could feel Denny to take his hand and squeeze.. was he crying?

“Who knew some gonk could drop into my lap and I want to spend the rest of my life with him, however long that is left. But I’ve never wanted to live life the way I want too now. Every day I’m happy know I get to wake up next to him. And hopefully this will stop the gold digging rumors, he barely lets me buy him food. I’m.. I’m in love, and I’m lucky I get to call such an amazing man mine.” Kerry seemed to shock himself saying he genuinely loved someone in front of so many people and reporters.

“Anyway I’m not gonna stand up here and rattle on about how much I love my husband, trust me I could do it for hours.” He downed the champagne and smiled.

“I love you, V Eurodyne.”

V really was crying now. Tears streamed down his face as he stood and Kerry met him half way into a passionate kiss. The crowd went wild but the only person V cared to listen too was Kerry. For a moment, V stopped caring about media and his identity, he wanted people to know he was taken and in love with Kerry.

“I love you too.” V whispered, feeling Kerry wipe his tears away with a smile and lead him back to their table.

[waterfallofspace]

Old Habits and New Friends.

The one where Y/osano has a cold, and learns how to be okay with this 'weakness' showing in front of her coworkers family. In turn, she learns a bit more about how much they care for her.

So I've been thinking about the beloved bringer of life doctor a lot. She's haunting in every sense and I adore her. Thus, this was born. There's quite a lot of 'character dynamic study' things in this, just fair warning! I love thinking about 'A/DA as a Family' Things <3

Characters: Y/osano, R/anpo, D/azai, K/unikida, F/ukuzawa (briefly) and no ships, this is all platonic-family things <3 Word Count: 2.9k

(References to Y/osano's backstory so slight spoiler warning)

~~~~~~~

As she stands outside the offices of the Armed Detective Agency, Yosano allows herself to take a moment. A gloved hand rubs her nose, trying to fend off the cold that’s been attempting to break her all week. Sickness isn’t a common occurrence for her, but it’s not incredibly rare either. She bites back a cough as she reaches for the handle of the door, sliding into the office with confidence she isn’t quite feeling. 

The room is mostly empty, the only other person visible being Ranpo. He’s seated at his desk, munching on some ‘candy of the week’ and scanning the paper. ‘Likely hunting for cases. He managed to irritate the police again so they haven’t come to him for a few days. Seems he’s getting bored.’ Her presence isn’t addressed, though there’s no doubt he knows she’s here. 

Another prickle works its way through her chest, barely being contained by a quick throat clear. Pointing herself towards her office, Yosano allows her gait to border on running as she glides towards the safe embrace of privacy. Being sick has never been something she was fond of, even before Mori. 

She’s always had the mentality of ‘fight through it, don’t show weakness’. Mori certainly didn’t help with that, stoking her strong personality right alongside the fear of being weak. Even with the ADA, she’d managed to distance if sickness emerged, or fight off anything before it could progress past a mild cold. 

“Yosano?”

Freezing, she allows the hope of a clean escape to fizzle away, pasting a smile onto her face as she turns to face Ranpo. ‘Hopefully he just wants a little praise, or help picking a case. Something simple I can finish quickly before he notices I’m… unwell.’ The thought is pointless, he’s been aware from the minute he saw her. She knows this just as much as him. Still, denial is a powerful drug if you want to believe it strongly enough. 

“Yes, Ranpo?”

“Help me with these cases. They’re just all so boring! Not worth the trip, I could solve them from here. Is it so much to ask for something interesting to happen?”

“Let me have a look. Hm, what about this one? Three people vanished from the-”

“The most boring of them all! It’s so obvious that it was the ferry captain, and they’ll all be returned safely within the week, it’s some insurance thing.” 

“I see. Well then, ma- hehh… maybe the car crash?” 

“Open and shut, he was on his phone and fled the scene. He’ll turn himself in tomorrow, the guilt weighing on him. Next!”

“There’s also th- the… hh’keshh-! hk’yieshh’iee-! ih’keshh’ieu-! Excuse me, sorry.” 

She ducks into her arm for the fit, turning as far from Ranpo as possible. When she spins back with the apology falling off her tongue, Ranpo has leaned forward, eyes showing under the brim of his hat. He’s looking her over in a way she’s painfully familiar with: studying her. After a moment he lets the nonchalant look rest over his face once more, eyes ducking back under his hat.

“It’s fine. Unlike my boredom. Find me an interesting case, I’m running out of snacks!”

“Is that how we ask for things?”

“Mmm… fine. Please find me an interesting case.” 

“Better. I mean- it’s quite difficult since you’re so talented at solving them but… hold on- ek’teshh’ieu-! Scuse me. Maybe this one?” 

“That one is al- oh actually, I didn’t see that one before.” 

“You’re welcome then. So is it worthy of your-” 

Breaking off, Yosano spins around again, aiming the cough towards her arm once more. She lets her thoughts wander as it pours out. ‘Damn it, I was hoping to hold out a little longer. This cold might be stronger than I gave it credit for, but I’m still tougher. I can take it.’ Ranpo has remained silent, but as she turns back he meets her gaze with a smile.

“You want a candy?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you though.”

“I think you should have a candy. It’s exactly what you need right now.”

“Well alright, since you insist…” 

Grin forming, Ranpo reaches into his desk and pulls out a bright wrapper, holding it out in his palm. A blush creeps across Yosano’s face as she recognizes the brand of cough drop. She takes it, turning it over between her fingers before popping it in her mouth. In an effort to change the topic from the direction it’s steering in, she dawns a playful smirk.

“You shouldn’t be eating these like sweets, you know. They’re not bad for you, but they are still medicine.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t snack on them. I just keep them around in case…”

“Good to hear. And uh… thank you, Ranpo.” 

“No problem!” 

The innocent tone is a comfort and she offers a smile in return. The taste of honey offers a soothing relief against her throat, but does nothing for the buzzing in her nose. Rubbing a finger against it, she allows a single sniff before dropping her hand again. She chews up the cough drop, surprise crossing her features as Ranpo lets out a laugh. 

“I thought I was the only one who did that!”

“Did what..?”

“Chewed them up. You’re supposed to suck on them, but I’ve always liked chewing them.” 

“Oh, yeah! Actually… you are supposed to let them linger. It’s better for you that way, you get to absorb more of the effects, but I’ve never had the patience for thhahh… that. hH’ieshh’iue-! hk’eshhii-! ek’zieshh’ieu-!” 

“Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”

The laughter they had been sharing fades immediately. Her body language veers to defensive, arms crossing over her chest. The change doesn’t go unnoticed by Ranpo as he sits up in the chair, head tilting down to meet her eyes. All smiles are gone, instead her face is tight, a tense calm resting over it as Ranpo offers something unreadable. 

“I’m fine to work.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t. I asked if you should be resting.”

“No. I don’t need to rest, I’m f- fine… hh’eNG’shh-! ek’tnngt-!”

“Hey… you don’t need to do that.”

“Do- hn’tngt-! what?”

“You know what I mean. There’s no need to do that, okay?” 

Yosano pales a little, but gives a tight nod as she feels the tickle swell once more. ‘It’s okay. It’s okay with Ranpo, it’s… it’s okay.’ She lets the words repeat in her head, arms slowly uncrossing as she raises one to her face, leaning away from Ranpo again. 

“hk’iESHh’ihh-! heh’KSHHii-! heh- kn’TIEZSHhh’iue-!” 

Without a word Ranpo abruptly stands, starting to walk towards the couch. He gestures for her to follow, and with a hint of hesitation, she does. Once they reach it, Ranpo sits first, choosing a position at one end of it, before motioning next to him. She follows the direction once more, still hesitant, trying to figure out where this is going. 

She sinks down onto the couch, posture tight, each muscle tensing. ‘What is he going for here… is he trying to put me at ease? It’s not working if so… b- but that’s not like him. There’s got to be some goal. Some plan he’s putting to work based on deductions about me and my health. Maybe he’s-’ Before she can finish the thought a sensation rips her from the spiral.

Ranpo has one hand running down her back, calm eyes peeking out from behind his hat. It’s as if he’s waiting for her reaction before continuing. She lets herself go limp, releasing the tension that had been gripping her. A small smile slips over his features, his other hand coming up and guiding her head down to his shoulder. Before she can process the change, she finds herself relaxing into his touch. 

“I’m gonna keep looking for cases. You are gonna rest.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” 

Even as the words form on her lips she feels her eyes flutter shut, leaning deeper into Ranpo’s shoulder. True to his word, he begins rambling about cases, explaining the ones that are too easy, and pondering on the ones he’d need to see the scene to figure out. Yosano lets herself drift into the sounds of the office, worry fading away. 

~~~

After a few minutes the door slams open, Dazai waltzing in. He freezes at the sight of them, hands in his pockets as he surveys the scene. Yosano pops up quickly, careful to tighten her expressions once more as she feigns nonchalance, letting her legs cross and one arm droop over the couch. The safety she felt with Ranpo has evaporated, her relationship with Dazai not solid enough to allow it to remain. 

Weakness has never been something she’s okay with others seeing, and Ranpo was the first it truly felt okay with. Dazai though… while she doesn’t dislike the man, she’s hesitant to let him see her in that state.

‘I see Mori in him sometimes… Just- in the small things. The way he carries himself, how he plans, the expressions he’ll choose to wear. Though… I often wonder if he feels the same about me. I know he isn’t the same, and I shouldn’t be treating him like he is… but…’ 

She lets her eyes drift to his face, expecting some form of taunt to spill out at any time. Instead, much to her surprise, his usually unreadable expression softens and without a word he places himself on the free side of her.

Her gaze tracks each movement, hand raising to her mouth as another cough starts to break through. Through it all, Dazai remains silent, posture very cautiously relaxed in that deeply rehearsed method she’s all too familiar with.

The coughing tampers off, the itch in her nose taking this as a perfect time to re-emerge. For a minute she considers suppressing it, but Ranpo’s hand still gently rubbing her back provides enough comfort to let it out against her arm. 

“hh’KSHH’iee-! hk’ESHH’iue-! hahhh- tnSHH’ihh-! ‘Scuse me.”

“Bless you.”

“Th- thank you.” 

The blessing comes as a surprise, and she finds herself thanking him out of instinct. She still holds a reasonable amount of caution, but there’s something… almost soft about the expression he’s wearing. As she lets out another sniffle, he points a measured look in her direction, before muttering something.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that?” 

There’s a noticeable pause as Dazai’s cheeks gain a hint more colour than before. He raises his gaze to meet hers, and clears his throat before speaking again. Yosano can’t help but feel a rush of protectiveness as the voice that comes out sounds almost timid. 

“I just asked if you were feeling okay?”

Yosano wants to say yes. Everything inside her is screaming to say yes. ‘Deny till the very end, don’t show weakness, don’t admit flaws. Tell him that you’re fine, and then be fine. We don’t tolerate weakness in our soldiers.’ But… something about the cautious look on his normally collected face washes every image of Mori from her mind. 

Dazai is nothing like him, no, he’s just like her. Taken in way too young by a person with no intentions of saving them. Never given the chance to be anything other than what he planned for.

She had managed to find something special here; to become someone special here. Someone that’s good, and kind, and her. And watching Dazai’s actions since he joined… seeing the look on his face now… well, maybe he’s trying to find that too. 

“Not really. I have a bit of a cold. hih’ISHhiee-! aisHH’iew-! hk’SHH’iue-! hh’KSHH’ih-!” 

“Bless you.” 

“Wow, even I couldn’t get her to admit to illness out loud.” 

Up until now Ranpo had remained silent, watching the interaction play out. However, upon her admittance, he gives a low noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a gasp. At the statement Yosano turns to him, Dazai’s eyes following suit, and gives him a light smack. 

“Hey! That hurt…” 

“Oh really? Are you- injured now? Because I can certainly help with that if youuu…”

“No! No, no I think I’m okay.” 

Laughter bubbles from her chest as she lets her head dip to rest once more against Ranpo’s shoulder. Dazai joins in with a light chuckle of his own, leaning back into the couch. Not a minute passes until Yosano’s sitting up again, another set of sneezes tumbling out into her waiting arm. 

“hh’KSHHiee-! aiiyshhh’iue-! hehh’tizshh’iue-! Excuse me.” 

“Bless. Hang on.” 

With that Dazai stands up, walking over to his desk and starting to aggressively rummage through the drawers. Ranpo and Yosano watch it unfold, neither sure what he’s doing, until he returns, triumphantly holding a pack of tissues above his head.

“Thought you might want these!”

“I didn’t know you kept tissues in your desk?”

“Yeah, well… never know when they might come in useful. Placing them in Kunikida’s belongings when he comes in with the sniffles is particularly fun.”

“You’ve done- hH’TSHH’iee-! ‘Scuse me. Done that before?”

“Of course! This one time I bought a bunch of identical packs, then kept leaving one on his chair in the same exact position every time he left the room! When he asked, I always said I didn’t know what he meant. Ended up going home early cause he was sure he was losing his mind!” 

By this point Ranpo is leaning against Yosano, the couch shaking with laughter. Dazai shoots them a wicked smile, tossing the pack at the couch, which she catches easily. Attempting to suppress laughter of her own, she wears a fake glare, pointing it first at Dazai before turning it to Ranpo. 

“Boys, that’s not nice.” 

“Maybe not, but it sure is hilarious. Besides, he’s the one who forces me to do paperwork on a weekend! Way I see it, he’s asking for a little torment.” 

Yosano just sighs, pulling a few tissues out as she directs another “hih’KSHH’ihh-! tiezshh’iue-! hk’ISHH’iee-!” into the soft folds before lightly blowing. Grimacing at the quality of it, she coughs a few times before sucking it up and blowing again.

Ranpo gives her a sympathetic smile before turning back to the paper, dead to the world once more as he surveys cases. Yosano turns her attention back to Dazai as he drops back onto the couch beside her. 

“That was gross, sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it. You should hear me in the spring.”

“You have allergies? I… ih’KSHH’iee-! I never noticed-”

“Bless you. You wouldn’t have. I take meds most of the time, or if it’s a really bad pollen day I tend to just avoid the office. Hah! It drives Kunikida insane.”

“Does it now?”

“He still doesn’t know why I don’t come in during the spring on seemingly random days! I make sure to pick a few days where pollen is low too so he can’t track the pattern. I also make up excuses that he can tell are lies, but can’t actively disprove!” 

There’s a deep seated glee in his voice as he describes all the details of how he torments Kunikida. Yosano can’t help smirking at the boyish nature of the teasing. It’s cut short by another coughing spell, ducking down into her lap. 

This time she feels two hands grazing her back. One is absentmindedly rubbing circles, the other is hesitant but gentle. A yawn escapes as it comes to an end, Ranpo looking up from the paper.

“I told you so! I said you should be resting!” 

“Yes you did. Right as always Ranpo. I guess… I should probably go home…” 

‘But… I don’t really want to… Home is empty. It always feels cold, even with the heat on. But here… with them… this feels warm…’ She doesn’t say any of this out loud, but there’s no need for that. They both know. While Dazai may not have Ranpo’s deduction skills, he sees more than most. 

Slowly they start to shift positions until her head is resting against Ranpo’s lap, her legs strewn over Dazai as he slides in next to Ranpo, echoing her earlier yawn. ‘That man is able to fall asleep anywhere. I’m quite jealous of that skill.’ Letting her tension start to fade away, Yosano feels a sigh escape. She melts into the warm embrace, drifting off to sleep. Dazai quickly follows suit, his head dropping onto Ranpo’s shoulder. 

~~~

About an hour later the door swings open once more, this time Kunikida stepping inside. At the sight of Yosano and Dazai sleeping, he opens his mouth to make a remark. Ranpo shuts him down with a single look, tilting his head to let his eyes show once more. He’s careful not to disturb them, quiet as he begins to speak. 

“Don’t wake them. They need this.” 

“But-” 

Kunikida cuts himself off, pushing up his glasses as he seems to sort through his ideals in his head. Ranpo patiently waits, letting his arm rest against Dazai’s shoulder as the younger man shifts. Eventually the peaceful look on their faces seems to sway Kunikida as he grabs a book and sinks down beside Dazai, beginning to read it. Yosano stirs, a few sleepy sneezes brushing from her lips. 

“hh’ishh-! kishhh-! heh’tieshh-!”

“Bless.” 

The blessing Kunikida offers is timid, volume matching that of the sneezes. A smirk crosses Ranpo’s face as he watches Kunikida attempt to keep his face neutral. Yosano mumbles a thanks before curling back into herself and drifting back off. 

~~~

By the time the president walks in, he finds all four of them asleep, a tangled mess of limbs and snores. They should be working, it’s nearly two on a Thursday, but he can’t bring himself to wake them. Content spreads through his heart, a smile breaking through to his face as he grabs a blanket from beside the couch and lays it over them. 

“Sleep well, children.”

[lean-mean-demon-genevieve]

Hello, I've recently started reading your blog and am enjoying it so far. I'm curious on your thoughts about a few things. What is your overall opinion on Jared? I've been noticing lately that Jared has been looking more miserable lately and looks a good bit thinner than he did a couple years ago. I also noticed his hair doesn't look as soft and shiny as it used to.

I watched the Mens Health video of an interview with him on what he eats and his workout routine. I noticed there was relatively little protein outside of him mentioning chicken, cheese and sometimes eggs and bacon. I also recall him mentioning he doesn't really eat carbs either. Do you think Gen is perhaps trying to control his diet and that it's possibly impacting his health mentally and physically? I know of people who do keto right and are healthy but I'm wondering if Jared is really doing that right, especially with what I've noticed and also tends to get sick a lot. I'm also wondering why he had to use a hyperbaric chamber to get more oxygen to his brain at one point.

Also, I saw a post of yours where you mentioned your first disdain of Gen is much stronger than it is towards Danneel. Would you be kind enough to tell me why you hate Gen a lot more than Danneel?

Thank you for your time in reading and hopefully answering this all.

Oh man, I’ve been super busy for the past several weeks, then sick, and haven’t gotten around to responding to asks in any particular order. But I’ve also been hesitant to touch this one because anyone that comes anywhere close to Jared critical content is immediately chased with pitchforks around here. It is so divided and therefore people are defending their faves to the death. Especially since Prequelgate, Jared, and thus Gen, are the current Prom King and Queen in the areas of fandom I most often see. And let me be clear that I’m not a Heller nor am I anti-Jared but I’m just also not a stan…of anyone. Honestly, I’m an “eat the rich” leftist at heart who believes anyone’s choices can be looked at with a critical eye.

(Long post under the cut)

To answer the easy stuff first, I don’t feel as strongly about Danneel because, except for a few appearances here and there, she keeps to herself lately and doesn’t give me a reason to really analyze her behaviors. I wasn’t deep into fandom during the early days of her and Jensen getting married and all of her territorial behaviors, so I don’t bring all of that with me to the present day. I do hate the way Danneel panders to Hellers and I did pick up on some irritating comments in her most recent OTH podcast appearance. The response from a fan question at HonCon about how Jensen can never impress her makes me roll my eyes and is part of their schtick that feels very tired. I don’t think we would be friends, but Danneel doesn’t get under my skin quite the same way Gen does. I think in some ways, Danneel has been more openly who she is (even if it was bitchy and unlikeable) whereas Gen has hidden behind a Mary Sue persona of golly-gee-whiz perfection…and I just respect that authenticity more.

Describing why I am anti Gen is…honestly difficult to summarize. I will link some of my other posts to help. Right away, it’s not because I’m jealous and she gets to be married to Jared. Overall, it lies in all the inconsistencies and hypocrisies which, honestly, I wouldn’t even be aware of if she wasn’t so set on proving her worth to herself by building a platform to manipulate her fans with sales pitches. She preaches sustainability while also jet-setting constantly. And she’s more of a flip-flopper than a preacher, so understanding what she even stands for is difficult. She wants to sell you 6 different supplements for the almighty gut health while also being seen drinking alcohol regularly. And when she laments about being stressed I lose my entire mind because most of us could only dream of having her version of stress. In one of her most recent IG story ads she complained that 2 trips out of the country (and away from her children) were just SO HARD to deal with! To me, instead of the relatable vibe she’s going for, she regularly comes off as entirely ungrateful and unaware of all of her privileges.

When I look at Gen, don’t see the same “goofy, light-hearted mom who is altruistically trying gosh darn hard to save the world with recycling and kindness” that her fans see. I see an uptight yet insecure grifter who skates by in this fandom by doing the bare minimum while being praised like a saint. And I think that it is her connection to Jared that affords her all the fandom grace. When people still refer to this grown man as one of their “boys” and liken him to “literal sunshine,” puppies, and sunflowers…well, imagine the positive assumptions we make about a partner that person chooses.

(I hate referring to either J as a boy, don’t come for me…and I’ve seen Jensen receiving the same stanning that also makes me gag lol)

While I hope Jared is not struggling with any other underlying health issue, his frame has appeared to change in recent years. But I’m definitely not here to say that this is due to Gen “controlling” him in any way. I do think Gen has/has had her own issues with eating (she admitted to having history of an eating disorder in a podcast once) and excessive exercise, but Jared is a grown man who makes his own decisions. Jared himself has alluded to insecurities in his body image over the years, praised what I would call disordered eating practices like fasting, and his bulked up frame as Soulless Sam was suspected of having anabolic help at the time. I do think he dabbles in manipulating diet and exercise in different ways like every one else in The Biz and I think he has a naturally lanky frame. So if he doesn’t want to work out constantly in order to stay swole, then I fully respect that. There is also the issue of his knee that no doubt impacts his capabilities as well.

As for the hyperbaric chamber (mentioned during Jared’s appearance on the Inside of You podcast on 5/24/22): he didn’t need it and the evidence that it even fixes anything just isn’t there. That doctor is a known quack, and he sucked Jared right in. At these clinics they take specialized (and not widely accepted in the field of actual neuroscience) scans of your brain and present you with scary results in order to sell these expensive chambers and their own supplements. It’s a racket. Now, how did he find his way to an Amen Clinic in Costa Mesa, CA? I really couldn’t tell you, but it does sound like the shifty, woo woo alternative medicine that Gen has also been pursuing for her “brain fog.” But then again, his supposed buddy and co-star Keegan Allen is also a health and wellness wackadoo, and we’ve seen Jared get sucked in by the likes of that young lady with the boutique IV drip clinic too. Jared has also shouted out Joe Rogan multiple times. He’s got multiple influences.

If Gen and/or Jared is concerned about their cognitive functioning, as a person with connection to the world of eating disorders, my opinion is that they invest in less oxygen chambers and instead at least consider more carbohydrates and overall calories. You’d be amazed at how much less foggy your brain feels when it’s properly nourished. And no, I’m not diagnosing anyone here, but I am saying that people with access to these expensive specialists are sometimes overlooking an answer that is right in front of their faces simply because eating a wider variety of nutrients would betray their brand. And sometimes people are scared to eat more when they can no longer workout like they use to and have an image to maintain.

[wooziorgans]

polaroids || xmh

summary: While moving into a new apartment, Minghao finds an old box full of Polaroids. All of them are with an old band member: Y/N.

genre: angst, fluff, hurt (for right now, no comfort), idol au, gn/male reader, ex!idol reader, written mostly in the form of flashbacks.

warnings: a few of the members call y/n hyung in this one but,,, still can be gn. mentions of leaving, discussing past relationships (vaguely), generally not a good time for minghao

word count: 2.0k

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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.2 .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Much to his relief, or dismay rather, the photos aren’t in order. Had the next photo followed the order of events, Minghao would be reliving a much happier memory. He thinks reliving this relationship in order would be too much.

This one isn’t a candid, like the one he remembers coming next. It wasn’t even a Polaroid; it was printed. This one was forced. It was Second Winds release party.

“Congratulations,” Minghao’s head ripped around to locate the voice. “The album is a hit. I’m proud of you Seungkwan.” Y/N was there.

Seungkwan laughed. “Thank you hyung. It’s good to see you.” Minghao still looked around frantically, already excusing himself from the group he was with.

“Y/N’s here.” He heard Mingyu say from behind him. He could imagine the sad smile on Mingyu’s face. It made him sick.

“It’s good to see you too, Kwannie.” He heard them laugh. It would’ve been cruel of him to approach their conversation and ruin Y/N’s mood. He waited, looking around for Seungkwan. He didn’t know what Y/N looked like anymore. Probably the same, but maybe they grew out their hair. Maybe they got more tattoos. Did they get any taller?

Minghao feels like throwing up while staring at this photo, much like he did in the hot club all those months ago. The wave of nausea makes his body burn and he feels like he’s going to pass out.

“I’m so proud of you, Kwan, seriously. Seventeen seems to be doing well too.” He finally spotted Seungkwan in the crowd of people. Next to him was Y/N, in a short sleeved floral shirt. Minghao had always thought those shirts were an abomination, but maybe it was the dim light of the club; he thought they looked good on Y/N.

“You don’t keep up with us?” Seungkwan asked, and the tone of the conversation had shifted in a way that Minghao was all too familiar with.

“I try to but,” Y/N inhaled audibly, “it feels sort of wrong because I’m no longer apart of it. I really, I do try, I swear.” Minghao could see Seungkwan frown.

“I understand. The Seventeen chapter of your life is closed, but it would be nice if we all got together some time. We all miss you, hyung. Especially-“

“Don’t. Seungkwan don’t.” Y/N cut him off.

“Right. Sorry. I’m assuming you two haven’t talked after last time. Chan missed you a lot. He was asking if you would be here.”

“Yeah, we haven’t,” Minghao saw them smile at the mention of Chan, “is he here?” It’s too open ended to specify one person.

“Yes, to both,” Seungkwan smiled back, and the overcast of melancholy that once plagued the conversation had been lifted.

Minghao felt a hand on his shoulder. It startled him. “You watching Y/N?” Speak of the devil; Chan appeared behind him.

“Uh, yeah. I’m thinking about it.” Minghao said. Chan smiled sadly at him.

“Wanna go together? It’ll be easier for both of us.” Chan squeezed Minghao’s shoulder softly.

Minghao still remembers the way Chan had cried when Y/N decided to leave. He has never seen Chan cry nearly as hard before or after the few weeks where all of Seventeen was, in a way, mourning Y/N’s decision. The two of them had formed a particularly close bond over the years. Y/N was Chan’s voice of reason; they always defended him. They were much easier on him than the rest of Seventeen. Y/N leaving destroyed Chan almost as much as it did to Minghao.

“Yeah. You, um,” Minghao swallowed hard, “you go first.” Chan nodded and began to make his way over to Seungkwan and Y/N through the crowd.

“Y/N? Hyung?” Minghao had a full view of their face now. They looked the same, but they looked healthier. Their cheeks had filled out more, and their skin seemed to glow. Their hair was grown out, and it looked black in the light of the club. Box dye, Minghao presumed. They had always been one to do things on their own.

“Oh my god, Channie!” A bright smile grew on Y/N’s face. “How are you?” Minghao saw the two embrace each other in a tight hug, one he knew not to expect when he approached the conversation.

“I’m doing good. How have you been?” Minghao knew it had been longer since Chan had seen Y/N. Chan hadn’t seen Y/N since they moved out.

All of the conversation turned into white noise as Minghao slowly gathered the courage to approach Y/N. He made eye contact with Chan, and while he didn’t want to interrupt, he knew that Chan could ask Jeonghan for their number. Minghao didn’t have that luxury. He slowly walked over.

“Y/N?” Minghao found a brief break in the conversation to insert himself.

“Oh,” Y/N sounded dejected, “Minghao. How’ve you been?” The tension in their shoulders was obvious. Maybe they thought that Minghao was still angry, like he was the last time they had ran into each other. He wasn’t.

“I’ve been good,” Minghao attempted to smile, “you?” He tried to be non-confrontational this time, and it worked. They release the tension in their shoulders.

“I’m doing alright.” It looked like an honest answer but Minghao knew that they were doing quite a bit better than alright. If it was just that, alright, they wouldn’t be there.

“Sorry Y/N hyung, I think Soonyoung is looking for us. I’ll see you around?” Chan appeared beside them with Seungkwan. Soonyoung was off his ass in alcohol by this point so there was no way he was looking for anyone. Both Y/N and Minghao knew it was a shitty excuse to let the two have some time alone; god knows they needed it.

“Alright Channie. I’ll catch you later.” As he passed, Chan placed a soft hand on Minghao’s shoulder.

“You look healthier.” Someone came around with a tray of drinks, handed them to Y/N and Minghao as they passed.

“Oh, thank you. I’m doing a lot better.” Y/N took a sip of their drink.

“Have you been seeing anyone?” Minghao couldn’t help that he asked that question.

“No,” Y/N chuckled softly, “no. There’s been no one since you.” They swirled the drink in their hand inside it’s red solo cup.

“Ah, I see.” Minghao looked down to his feet. “Why not?”

“You were the right person Minghao. It was just,” Y/N swallowed, “everything else was wrong. I’ve healed from a lot of the things that made me leave and I guess I hadn’t accounted for getting over you, so that’s what I’ve been doing. It’s been you for four years even if you weren’t there.”

Minghao hadn’t actually realized then how long it had been since Y/N left. Had it actually been four years? It felt like yesterday in some ways, but Minghao knows he’s gone a long time without Y/N.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it but,” Minghao inhaled, bracing himself for the hurt, “why did you have to leave me?”

No yelling came. “No, no. I’m ready to talk about it. I owe you the explanation, at least.” Y/N was calm; a much bigger contrast from the last time they tried to speak about it. “I think I rationalized it by convincing myself that you were a part of that life, and I wanted nothing to do with it anymore. Everything you do revolves around and falls back onto being an idol, and I was so fucked up from being in that environment that I wanted to get rid of every single thing that even reminded me of it. That included you. I shouldn’t have. Obviously I should have never done things the way I did. When you’re in that headspace and you feel so- so hopeless it’s hard to make the right decisions.”

“Oh,” is all that Minghao can manage initially, “that’s a lot.”

“I’m sorry.” Y/N looked up at him through their bangs. They look genuine in their apology.

“Don’t be. I should be apologizing for a lot more things than you. Like last time, or for never noticing, or for getting mad about everything.” The few drinks Minghao had began to hit him. He felt sincere, and he knew it was the alcohol because he would never be able to do this sober.

“You’re swaying. Do you want to find a place to sit?” Minghao realized that he was swaying. They find a spot on one of the leather couches in the lounge.

Minghao remembers the considerable amount of space between the two of them on the couch. He remembers the few drinks he had to down before either of them furthered the conversation. Minghao remembers it all; he remembers the glow of their skin in the dim light and how it never glowed like that when Y/N was in Seventeen. The memory hurts, but in a bittersweet way. They’re finally doing better and that memory was proof of it.

“Do you still love me?” Minghao downed the rest of his cup after asking it.

“Minghao.” Y/N almost sounded like they were scolding him. It reminded Minghao of how they would scold the others for bothering Chan too much.

“I’m sorry,” He meant it.

“You’re drunk.” The room had been getting more and more fuzzy as the night went on. The knowledge that Y/N was so close yet so far had made him dizzy. The alcohol didn’t help his predicament.

“I’m still sorry.” Minghao hadn’t realized he uttered that apology.

“I know.” Y/N placed a careful hand on his knee to stop it from shaking. Minghao hesitated for a few seconds before placing his hand on top of theirs. He expected them to pull away, or flinch, but there was no reaction. Only a soft squeeze was given to the fabric of his pants.

“Hey uh, we’re taking a group photo by the stage if you want to join,” Chan suddenly appeared in front of the couch they were seated on. The leather material seemed to have suddenly suctioned Minghao to it. He couldn’t move.

“Oh yeah, of course. Give us a few seconds Channie?” Y/N spoke.

“Sure thing,” Chan smiled before he looked down at Minghao, “Go easy on him. Please, hyung.” He whispered to Y/N. Minghao still heard him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Y/N nod. Chan walked away.

“Let’s go, Hao.” The use of his nickname made his breath catch in his throat. Minghao swallowed it down, before he pushed himself off the couch. It took all of his strength to not wobble once he was on his feet.

They make their way over to the stage where the rest of Seventeen is waiting for them. “Get in here,” Seokmin ushered them. He pulled Y/N and Minghao next to him. The proximity was too much for Minghao. He struggled to find his footing as the first photo was quickly taken.

“Minghao, smile,” Seungkwan bumped his shoulder, gritting his teeth.

Minghao tried his best. He smiled with as much sincerity that he could muster in that moment.

Looking down on that photo now, it looks passable for a genuine smile. It makes him nauseous despite the fact that it was months ago. It’s the only physical photo he has with all of Seventeen, past and present.

Minghao lost Y/N in the crowd after the photo was taken. They ran into each other on the way out of the event. “I’m heading out, I have to work tomorrow,” was all Y/N said to the general direction of Minghao.

“See you around,” Minghao mustered.

There was a long pause. “Yeah. See you around, Minghao.” Minghao was unsure of how sincere it was.

Minghao places the photo back into the box sharply. He considers burning it, before he settles on just closing the lid.

It’s too much.