#i’m sorry i think it’s actually terrible and one of the worst things you can ever do and it can def jeapordize friendships

[jaanii]

i think genuinely the worst thing you can ever do is be mean and dismissive when someone is trying to show you something. it could be something that took them even less than a minute but if they tried showing it to you excitedly and you brushed them off or said ‘i don’t care’ or didn’t pay attention or said something mean about it, they’re going to feel horrible and never want to show you anything again

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 5

in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho

You don’t call Spencer for four days. 

Spencer doesn’t call you for four days. 

It’s scary. 

There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else. 

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space. 

His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up. 

But you’re not quite there yet. 

And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy. 

The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting. 

“Hi.”

You barely recognize your own voice. 

It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting. 

“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”

That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either. 

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”

There’s a pause. 

“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”

“You want… to take me to a bar?”

“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“You could go without me.”

More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally. 

But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?

Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick. 

When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach. 

“I could. Is that what you want?”

No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment. 

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”

A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all. 

But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat. 

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat. 

“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”

“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself. 

Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position. 

All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him. 

Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass. 

Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that. 

So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step. 

------

The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy. 

Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you. 

Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea. 

Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence. 

All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes. 

“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”

You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there. 

“I’m waiting for friends.”

“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”

He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather. 

“I’m not drinking.”

“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”

You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do. 

“I’m not sad.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”

“I’m waiting for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue. 

“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”

“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”

Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder. 

“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”

You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out. 

Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person. 

You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now. 

Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.

“Those are the ones.”

“And why are they dressed for church?”

Church?

“They’re FBI.”

“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”

You almost snort. 

“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”

You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you. 

“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him. 

“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”

Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle. 

“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”

“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”

This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer. 

And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up. 

“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes. 

Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.  

“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What a weird man. 

There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that. 

“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”

You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind. 

“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”

Really, he’s stunning. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—” 

“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.

“Pretty boy?”

Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again. 

“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this. 

Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings. 

“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you. 

“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”

The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff. 

“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”

“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group. 

“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”

Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice. 

Soon, it’s just the two of you. 

“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond. 

“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.” 

You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high. 

“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”

He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”

From him, that hurts. 

It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.

“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”

Silence. 

“Then why did you come?”

His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice. 

“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”

You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud. 

Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing. 

Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset. 

“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”

You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.

Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running. 

Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears. 

You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream. 

Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care. 

Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right. 

How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?

Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you. 

You feel like you might throw up. 

“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away. 

You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking. 

You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is. 

“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”

Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying. 

“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”

“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”

You sob harder. 

Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette. 

“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”

The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you. 

“Hey—you okay out here?”

“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”

Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection. 

“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”

Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you. 

Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them. 

“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”

You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”

“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You sniff again. 

“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”

Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.  

“Will do.”

When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale. 

“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”

You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice. 

“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive. 

“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”

Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more. 

Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby. 

“I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”

You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again. 

“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”

“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”

Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink. 

“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”

Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.  

“Did he tell you that?”

“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”

There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words. 

“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”

Your nose wrinkles. 

“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk. 

“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”

“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup. 

“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”

You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant. 

“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”

“He already was,” you admit. 

“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”

He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it. 

“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”

“It was really out of character for him,” you concede. 

“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”

“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”

“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done. 

“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”

You balk.

“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”

Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you. 

Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him. 

“I have to go wash my hands.”

It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom. 

Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta. 

Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever. 

There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side. 

“You in there?” 

Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup. 

The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?

“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing. 

“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”

Yes. 

The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating. 

“Nope. Just washing my hands.”

This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him. 

Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate. 

You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed. 

Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive. 

Spencer attempts to speak again. 

“What I said before, it was—”

“Can you just take me home?” 

It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face. 

You don’t know where it comes from, either. 

Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms. 

Too scared. 

The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too. 

You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room. 

“Yeah. I can.”

Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final. 

It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home. 

That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do. 

Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing. 

A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet. 

“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”

“Okay.”

But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move. 

If only time would freeze before he could walk away. 

But it doesn’t. 

He sucks in a decisive breath. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. 

It’s that fucking phone call all over again. 

Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.

Your time is up. 

-

part 5.5

[moonstruckme]

Hey! love your writing so so much!! im just here to request a little drabble with one of the marauders boys (or all three cus the more the merrier lol) where the reader's stomach hurts and is bloated (maybe on period idk) but she is hesitant for him to cuddle or touch her stomach cus she is insecure of it <3 thanks so much, keep up your amazing writing

Thank you gorgeous <3

cw: period pains, insecurity around stomach

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 526 words

“Baby.” Sirius is pouting. It feels a bit unfair, considering you’re the one in pain. “You’re being terribly selfish.” 

“Stop.” You shift away from his hand, trying to creep around your side, and hold in a low pained sound at the movement. 

“Stop holding out on me,” he shoots back. His voice is equal parts fond and teasing, wheedling in the way he knows is most likely to get to you. 

This is basically routine by now, and one of your least favorites of all the routines you’ve developed with your boyfriend. Your period will come, and in those first couple of days when you feel the grossest and most pathetic you’ve ever been, one part of you wants Sirius to hold you while the other part wants him nowhere near you. Predictably, Sirius sides with the first part. He always wins.

“I just wanna help, gorgeous.” He lets his voice drop into a more genuine register, leaning down to smear a kiss across your temple. “I know it’s not much, but I can at least give you a good cuddle, yeah?” 

Truthfully, that’s all there is left to do. Sirius isn’t giving himself enough credit. Because of him, your craving for chocolate cake has been sated, you’ve been delivered pain relievers as soon as you’re allowed to have them, and there’s a warm bag of rice resting low on your abdomen. Even now, his hand is massaging gently at the muscles of your lower back, keeping the worst of your cramps at bay. 

You sigh, pulling your knees a bit tighter to your chest. You feel unfit to be perceived right now. You can hardly think about your boyfriend looking at your bloated stomach, much less touching it. 

“I just feel so gross,” you say. 

“Well, that’s just sacrilege.” Sirius lifts his head, looking down on you in mock horror. “And you’re the loveliest thing I know, so it’s blatantly untrue to boot. No one is allowed to talk about my girl like that, even you, got it?” 

It’s not his words that get you so much as his tone, so totally scandalized that it tugs a laugh from inside your chest. Sirius grins, but the muscles in your abdomen spasm in protest, and he winces when the pain shows in your face. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he coos, dark brows bunched compassionately as he presses another kiss to your hairline. “I’m sorry, baby. You gonna let me kiss it better?” 

You give him a look which you hope conveys great reluctance, but Sirius’ eyes light anyway. 

“C’mere, honey.” He doesn’t give you a chance to change your mind, lifting your shirt to touch his lips delicately to your stomach before sidling up to you and wrapping his arms around your middle. “That’s better, isn’t it?” 

It is. Pretty much instantly, actually, but you don’t have to admit that. Sirius burrows his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder, nipping playfully at your skin. You think he knows anyway. 

“Stubborn thing,” he says. “Fine, you can be excused because you’re poorly. You always get your way in the end, don’t you?” 

No, that’s him. 

[redheadspark]

can i have benedict bridgerton x reader prompt #24

A/N - This is great for Benedict, thanks for requesting this

Pebble

Summary - After an argument, you think of the worst. Benedict, however, proves you wrong.

Warnings - Angst with a hint of fluff at the end.

You hated this, seeing the door shut in front of you.  It was a clear sign that your significant other who was on the otherside of the door was still mad.  At least to you it was a sign.

You and Benedict rarely fought, and when you did it would be something very small and mundane.  Nearly a small spat really and nothing else to worry about, which was clear evidence of your marriage and your love for one another.  You two deeply loved each other, going through your own trials and tribulations as a couple before and after your marriage.  

But this, this scared you.

Benedict rarely fought with you, it was not in his nature.  He had an aloof soul that was a contrast to your own stubbornness.  It was not new, you need to be right from time to time.  A constant struggle on your end since you would get yourself in trouble from time to time as a young lady.  But Benedict never saw that as a bad thing, he saw the true sweetness that you had and the love you had for him.  You would always reel in your emotions and your hard-headedness when it would get too far.  Benedict was always your anchor, making sure you didn’t go overboard or too far.  You found that to be a blessing, a true blessing in your life.  

So now that you and Benedict had a fight, and you felt like the worst wife on the planet. 

You were about to tap on the door with your knuckles, thinking of the worst and that Benedict was still fuming at you for how you were going down his throat and spraying him with your words.  Your heart was pounding, and your head was replaying all the nasty things you said to him that you knew weren’t true and were all lies.  

Yet suddenly, the door was thrown open and Benedict stood in front of you.

His eyes were wide and almost calm, no longer looking angry as he did moments before.  He actually looked rather calm and collected, which threw you off as he scanned your face.  You were suddenly overwhelmed with all that was said, all of the mean things that came out of your mouth, and all of the resentment that was festering inside of you that was unlashed on your kind and loving husband.  

Within a second, you were crying and hiding your face in your hands.  

“Darling,” You heard him say, then wrapping you in his arms and tucking you into his arms.  You breathe him in as you cried, the tears shitting his shirt while his own fingers were rubbing along your shoulders and upper back.  This was not what you expected from your husband, yet again you were expecting him to reprimand you which was not in his nature at all.  But for him to hug you, to make you feel safe as you wept in guilt, it surprised you and scared you at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccuped in his chest, feeling him kiss the top of your head as you were now clinging onto him and shaking from the tears, “I-I-I didn’t m-m-mean any of it—“

“It’s okay,” he hummed against your head, you freezing in his hold as his voice was sounding so calm and sure.  It shocked you to hear that from him, making you look up from your spot and see him look down at you with fondness in his eyes.  

“I said…all of those things to you!” You tried to explain to him, knowing you were in the wrong in the fight, “None of it was true, and you didn’t deserve any of it,”

“My love,” He cooed, leaning down to frame your face in his hands,  The tears on your cheeks and the wide eyes you were giving him, Benedict could see the pain and sense it.  You were always so strong and confident in who you were and in how you carried yourself.  But that also came at a price with your hardheadedness and need to be right constantly.  It was not what you wanted to inflict on your husband, the one person who showed you true love. 

Yet you did, and it felt beyond terrible.

“It’s in the past now, okay?” He asked you calmly, brushing away the tears with his thumbs and giving you a sweet smile, “I know you never meant any of those words, and I know this fight we had is nothing we cannot put behind us.”

“Even after—“ You were about to question him some more, not understanding how he could let it go and not be angry with you.  But he silenced you with a kiss, a soothing kiss that made your mind go blank.  He had that way with you when he would kiss you, able to let you get out of your head for a brief moment. It was one of the great things you adored about Benedict, his way of making you feel loved with a simple kiss.  And even then, when you were feeling low while wearing a tear-stained dress and having a battered heart, Benedict never walked away from you.

He pulled away and nuzzled your noses together, his eyes still so soft with him and his face along your jawline feeling beyond delicate like he was holding a jewel, “I love you far too much to let an argument stop us,” 

His selfless and caring heart was far too massive, and to hear he was willing to forget about the fight, to let it float away in the wind and no longer fester in it, made you love him all the more. You considered yourself so lucky to have him love you, to feel that love every day when you two would fall asleep in each other’s arms.  There were more positive days than negative, and Benedict only proved it now letting a fight simply evaporate and not fester.

“I think we should turn in for the night,” he explained to you, though you rose a brow to him.

“What about our dinner with your family?” You asked, seeing him shrug as he laced your fingers together lovingly.  

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind us missing one family meal, we can always go next week.  Besides, I would rather be with the love of my life and enjoy my evening with her,” He explained, seeing you finally smiling for the first time that night. Benedict showed you how to not let a single argument or fight to rip your love apart or make you think the worst.  Deep down you knew that he still loved you, that he knew you still loved him.

This was merely a small pebble in a river, not a boulder.

The End 

May Prompt Session

[rivkae-winters]

Edit: the app launched and Is down- I have the initial apology video in a post here and I’m working on getting a full archive of their TikTok up ASAP. I’m letting the rest of this post remain since I do still stand by most of it and also don’t like altering things already in circulation.

Warning for criticism and what I’d consider some harsh to outright mean words:

So I’ve just been made aware of the project known of as ‘lore.fm’ and I’m not a fan for multiple reasons. For one this ‘accessibility’ tool complicates the process of essentially just using a screen reader (something native to all I phones specifically because this is a proposed IOS app) in utterly needless and inaccessible ways. From what I have been seeing on Reddit they have been shielding themselves (or fans of the project have been defending them) with this claim of being an accessibility tool as well to which is infuriating for so many reasons.

I plan to make a longer post explaining why this is a terrible idea later but I’ll keep it short for tonight with my main three criticisms and a few extras:

1. Your service requires people to copy a url for a fic then open your app then paste it into your app and click a button then wait for your audio to be prepared to use. This is needlessly complicating a process that exists on IOS already and can be done IN BROWSER using an overlay that you can fully control the placement of.

2. This is potentially killing your own fandom if it catches on with the proposed target market of xreader smut enjoyers because of only needing the link as mentioned above. You don’t have to open a fic to get a link this the author may potentially not even get any hits much less any other feedback. At least when you download a pdf you leave a hit: the download button is on the page with the fic for a reason. Fandom is a self sustaining eco system and many authors get discouraged and post less/even stop writing all together if they get low interaction.

3. Maybe we shouldn’t put something marketed as turning smut fanfic into audio books on the IOS App Store right now. Maybe with KOSA that’s a bad idea? Just maybe? Sarcasm aside we could see fan fiction be under even more legal threat if minors use this to listen to the content we know they all consume via sites like ao3 (even if we ask them not to) and are caught with it. Auditory content has historically been considered much more obscene/inappropriate than written content: this is a recipe for a disaster and more internet regulations we are trying to avoid.

I also have many issues with the fact that this is obviously redistributing fanfiction (thus violating the copyright we hold over our words and our plots) and removing control the author should have over their content and digital footprint. Then there is the fact that even though the creator on TikTok SAYS you can email to have your fic ‘excluded’ based on the way the demo works (pasting a link) I’m gonna assume that’s just to cover her ass/is utter bullshit. I know that’s harsh but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s probably a duck.

I am all for women in stem- I’ve BEEN a woman in Stem- but this is not a cool girl boss moment. This is someone naive enough to think this will go over well at best or many other things (security risks especially) at worst.

In conclusion for tonight: I hope this person is a troll but there is enough hype and enough paid for web domains that I don’t think that’s the case. There are a litany of reasons every fanfic reader and writer should be against something like this existing and I’ll outline them all in several other posts later.

Do not email their opt out email address there is no saying what is actually happening with that data and it is simply not worth the risks it could bring up. I hate treating seemingly well meaning people like potential cyber criminals but I’ve seen enough shit by now that it’s better to be safe than sorry. You’re much safer just locking all your fics to account only. I haven’t yet but I may in the future if that is the only option.

If anyone wants a screen reader tutorial and a walk through of my free favorites as well as the native IOS screen reader I can post that later as well. Sorry for the heavy content I know it’s not my normal fare.

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (07)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n;; im gonna be honest, i had no clue as to how im gonna write chapter 7 so i took a short break. that ended with me diving head first into love and deepspace which now has led me to a new obsession – Sylus. if you saw that post i made abt LNDS a few weeks ago, that has manifested into a side blog @chaeriescola where i’ll be posting my-non kpop related fics (read: Sylus & Zayne brainrot) also, i’m on Patreon now !! if you join my Patreon, you’ll get early access to the fics (a week early before they get posted on tumblr & ao3), exclusive bonus content, sneak peeks of other projects etc. if you’d like these special treats, feel free to join 👀 enough of me yapping, onto the fic~

Seungcheol wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting when he tasked Mingyu and Vernon to look after you – considering how they both absolutely suck at understanding the whole “look after ___ for me but, don’t let her catch you” concept. He’s seen them tail behind you, possibly raising concerns in some students and staff whether they were stalking you from the moment they spotted you.

coups: can’t you two be more discreet? coups: you both look like you’re the worst stalkers gameboi: ? tallgyu: I think we’re doing a good job alien-non: yea, she hasn’t noticed us gameboi: you really got Mingyu and Hansol to tail after ___? gameboi: no offense to all 3 of you gameboi: but Hansol’s logic is practically gone if Mingyu’s leading tallgyu: HEY alien-non: I suggested we wear disguises but Mingyu didn’t want to! tallgyu: those weirdly shaped sunglasses are way too obvious coups: what you’re doing now is way more obvious! tallgyu: she hasn’t noticed us tallgyu: it’s fine hyung coups: Vernon alien-non: yes coups: you know how aware ___ is of her surroundings coups: she’s probably already spotted you both gameboi: but chose not to say anything

As if on cue, when they both turned a corner, they were both startled to come face-to-face with you, arms crossed, staring right at them.

“You’ve both been following me for the past hours, can I help you?” you ask, eyes narrowing when they both exchange a look.

“Well…” Mingyu started, “We… We just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost…?”

Vernon mentally facepalms at Mingyu’s response while you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, “To make sure I wouldn’t get lost…? On a campus I’ve been attending for at least 2 years…?”

“Seungcheol hyung wanted us to look after you,” Vernon confesses, “I don’t know why, but he just told us to keep an eye on you.”

“And, so, you’ve decided to follow me around?”

“Mingyu was the one who suggested it…”

“You both would make terrible secret agents…” Seungcheol mumbled as he came up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he sent glares to the two younger males. “Cheol, I’m a big girl now – I can handle myself!”

“I know, I know,” he admits, “And, I’m sorry, pup-”

“Pup? You call her ‘pup’?” Your ears burned red at Mingyu’s question, forgetting that not everyone grew up with you and Seungcheol or knowing the reason that he calls you that.

“It’s a nickname I gave her while we were growing up,” Seungcheol answers, “And, it stuck with her since.”

“She grew up with you? Oh, you poor thing,” Mingyu faked cries as he pulls you into an embrace, “He must’ve picked on you non-stop.”

“Actually, he didn’t pick on me.” The taller male pulls away, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your answer. “He stood for me and may or may not have threatened the people that did pick on me.” He looks at Seungcheol with a look of betrayal, “That’s not fair! Why does she get special treatment while you keep picking on me!?”

Seungcheol pries Mingyu away from you, his arm returning to its position on your waist as he answers, “Because you’re Mingyu, and she’s… she’s ___.”

‘Well… this is… awkward…’ you thought to yourself as you sat in front of Wonwoo, one of the other boys you had briefly met that night. Seungcheol suggested you meet the three of them altogether, mainly Mingyu and Wonwoo since you were already best friends with Vernon, to somewhat break the ice.

‘Choi Seungcheol, you ass, this is anything but breaking the ice! If anything, this is increasing the freezing point of the ice!’

Unfortunately, Seungcheol’s plan of grabbing lunch together is now facing a setback. You had no classes that day, Wonwoo finished his, but Seungcheol, Mingyu and Vernon were being held back for their classes.

“Seungcheol, I’ve only met him once!” you whisper-shouted into your phone, “And, neither of us exchanged a single conversation since!”

“I know, I know,” Seungcheol answers, wracking his head to come up with solutions, “But, this lecturer is talking so slow that I have no choice!”

“What about Vernon and Mingyu?”

A sigh was heard, “Apparently, the model was being fussy about how she should be posing for their portrait. The lecturer needed her to be partially clothed, but since Mingyu was in the class… You can fill in the blanks…”

You let out a sigh, looking into the windows of the cafe as Wonwoo sits at a booth near the pick-up counter, “How much longer until you all are able to get here?”

“Probably an hour… And another 20 minutes to get there. Hey, you and Wonwoo both like drinking coffee and are introverts! Maybe you both can try talking to break the ice.”

Oh, boy, did Seungcheol underestimate the introversion you and Wonwoo possess. You had initially tried to have small talk with him, only to chicken out when he looked at you with that piercing gaze through his glasses. It’s been half an hour since you sat down at the booth with him, your strawberry milkshake sitting on a coaster as he goes to order possibly his third cup of cappuccino.

When he returns with his drink, you can’t help but ask, “Isn’t that… too much caffeine…?”

Wonwoo seemed a bit taken back when you finally opened your mouth to talk, but he recovers quickly and shrugs, “Honestly, after drinking caffeine for years, you kind of grow immune to it. You should’ve seen Mingyu’s reaction when he found me sleeping after downing 5 cans of Monster.”

“Five!?”

“Yes, five.”

“And, you were still able to sleep?”

“Like a baby.”

Wonwoo was surprisingly easy to talk to – you just needed to get over your social anxiety and the very intimidating resting bitch face he has. You’ve come to learn that the man in front of you was GAM3BO1WOO, a famous game streamer on SVTwitch. You’ve seen a few of his stream clips on your feed, but you weren’t exactly a fan of his since his taste in games and yours were vastly different.

“Do you play every new game release?” you asked, scrolling through his MAESTRO account and skimming through his posts.

“It depends, actually. If a new game really catches my eye, then I’ll download it. Other than that, either the companies sponsored me to stream their games, my followers keep requesting that I play the game they think would suit me or want to see me play. Sometimes, Mingyu and Cheol would gift me co-op games since a lot of them have the mechanic of if one player already owns the game, the second player plays for free.”

“Have you ever hopped on trends?”

“It drives traffic and increases my followers, can’t really complain.”

You’re not sure how long you’ve been conversing with Wonwoo. But, it was definitely long enough for neither of you to notice the three men standing right outside the window, watching you two fondly and surprised. “They’re… talking…” Mingyu says in awe, a chuckle from Seungcheol following afterwards, “Nice to know two of our introverts are getting along just fine.”

You noticed them from the corner of your eyes, turning to the window, Wonwoo following to look at them. You smiled, giving them a small wave which they returned while the latter gave a small nod of his head.

“Sorry for keeping the two of you waiting,” Seungcheol apologised the second he got to the booth, taking a seat next to you. Mingyu and Vernon took their seats next to Wonwoo after placing their orders at the counter. “Aren’t you going to get anything?” you asked the older male, looking up at him as you took a sip from your milkshake.

“I’m assuming you’re waiting for me so you can order some kind of snack which we either share or I finish the remaining you can’t.” When you don’t answer and avert his gaze, Seungcheol knows he caught you red-handed. He chuckles as he gets out of the booth and towards the counter, which unfortunately for you, leads to an interrogation by the other three boys – technically, it was mainly Mingyu with the occasional questioning from Vernon. Wonwoo just sits quietly, listening in as his eyes would dart between you, your two ‘interrogators’ and Seungcheol who was still lining up.

The two men asked you the questions you’d expect.

“How old were you when you met Seungcheol hyung?”

“I think… I think I was 5? He should be about 7 or 8?”

“What did he look like back then? Did he look like a nerd?”

“Well, he had the signature bowl kid every boy got when they were kids or teens.”

“Was he scary?”

“Kind of? Not a lot of people messed with me because of how protective he was over me.”

“Mess with little red riding hood, the big bad wolf will come and get you.”

All attention was on Seungcheol as he placed a plate of strawberry cake and a plate of a dozen brownies on the table, returning to his seat right next to you. Noticing the stunned expressions from his peers, he shrugs, “That was what they’d always say to anyone trying to approach her with ill intentions. It’s basically their way of saying ‘if you don’t want trouble, don’t go looking for trouble’.”

An easier way to put it was – if you don’t want to deal with an angry Seungcheol, don’t bother his girl. Your heart still flutters at how some people referred to you as ‘his girl’, but you knew that actually being his girl was nothing more than a dream to you. “By the way hyung, when’s your next fight? Maybe ___ could come and help out, y’know?” Vernon asks, reaching out to grab a brownie only for his hand to be lightly slapped by Seungcheol. “Ow! What was that for!?”

“If you want them, go get them yourselves,” the older male answers, pushing the plate of brownies towards you. “These are for ___. If you want one, go get one yourself.” Your face heats up at the gesture, and heats up further when the three males turn to you. “Why does she get special treatment?” Mingyu whines, “And how can she possibly finish that entire plate?”

Seungcheol pats your head as he answers, “Because she’s ___. And, yes, she can. If she can’t, I’ll finish it.”

“Can we have a piece if you’re the one finishing it up?”

“No, get your own.”

“Ah, hyung!”

You’ve managed to bond with Wonwoo and Mingyu, becoming close with them in a matter of days and now, you’ve got four ‘bodyguards’ walking around with you (Mingyu refers to them as that, the others and you just play along). The downside that comes with the friendship would be a flock of envious fangirls (and occasionally fanboys) who had begun to buzz around you like moths attracted to light.

“How did you become friends with Wonwoo? Could you ask him to shout me out on his streams or MAESTRO account?”

“Is Mingyu single? Could you introduce me to him?”

“Would you like to be friends? I’d love to be friends with the boys!”

Both boys could see you were tired of the clout chasers, especially Wonwoo since he knows you value your personal space. Both men had taken the issue to their social media, expressing how they’d appreciate it if their ‘fans’ stopped bugging their friends and loved ones in an attempt to get close with them. You remembered when both of them addressed the issue on Wonwoo’s stream, the sternness in both their voices still sent shivers down your spine.

“We understand that you may think you know us as we both are content creators and certain information has been released about us online. While we may not be able to put an end to the parasocial relationship that you have built with us, we do not know you and you do not know us. Do not harass our friends and loved ones, and if your unhealthy obsession of us persists, please seek help.”

That was enough for a majority of the fanboys/fangirls to back off. Some still linger, but they were no longer up close and in your face bombarding you with questions or requests.

Currently, Wonwoo, Mingyu and Vernon sat in a discussion room within the library as they waited for Seungcheol and you. It was a small meet-up, but it could also be treated as a short co-working/co-studying meet-up. Your class was ending later than usual and Seungcheol offered to wait for you so both of you could walk to the library.

Beauty and the Beasts

mingoo: @princess how much longer is the lecture gonna take?

princess: erm… another 15 mins?

princess: …

princess: who set my nickname as princess in the gc?

All four boys replied altogether and you playfully rolled your eyes.

mingoo: coups hyung

vernonnie: cheol hyung

nonu: seungcheol

cheol: i did

cheol: i got you your coffee order btw

mingoo: what about us?

cheol: you lot already got your orders before you headed to the library

mingoo: i’m assuming you got her snacks too

cheol: yes

cheol: and they’re only for ___

cheol: so don’t try to steal them

Mingyu lets out a groan as he lays his upper body on the table. “It’s not fair,” he whines, “Why does Seungcheol hyung give ___ special treatment? Is it because she’s a girl?” Vernon shrugs, “Maybe? But, he’s treated his exes the same way, too.”

“Yeah, I know that, Vernon. But, isn’t there something different?”

Mingyu sits up as he looks at Vernon, his words seeming to be hinting at something as the younger male sits in silence. “It’s like he’s more attentive, more caring. Like, he was caring before to the other girls, but there’s this extra layer to it, y’know?”

“He means there’s more than meets the eye,” Wonwoo says, “I think what Mingyu’s trying to say is that Seungcheol is whipped for ___.”

“Yes!” Mingyu exclaims, pointing at Wonwoo with a puppy-like grin on his face, “But, also no? I don’t know! They grew up together so maybe it’s like a habit he has or a sense of responsibility he feels?”

“But, who would want to call their childhood best friend who is now an adult ‘pup’?” Vernon questions, and Wonwoo tips his pencil in the younger male’s direction, “Precisely. Everyone would grow out of it, much less a nickname like that. Hell, would you call any of your friends that kind of name as an adult?”

Mingyu hums in understanding. All three of them knew just how shameless Seungcheol could be sometimes. Vernon bites back a gag when he recalls accidentally witnessing Seungcheol and his then girlfriend making out in his car, in the campus’ parking lot - in broad daylight. He pitied his therapist who had to listen to him ramble on and on about suspecting the older male having an exhibitionist kink.

“So, you really think he’s whipped for her?”

“Seungcheol barely remembers your favourite cake, but he remembers ___’s coffee order.”

“He probably has it written down somewhere?”

“I beg to differ,” Vernon speaks up.

He joined Seungcheol to get coffee a few weeks ago. While Seungcheol was ordering his, you had texted Vernon saying your Business Module class had completely drained you and you were in need of a quick pick me up. All he did was say, “___ wants us to help get her coffee,” and Seungcheol began reciting your order to the barista without a second thought.

“He knew it like the back of his hand! Not a single thing was missed out!”

As Mingyu and Vernon continue to discuss Seungcheol's love life, Wonwoo glances down at his phone as it vibrates, a notification from you. Opening up the text app on his laptop, he types out his reply.

___: hey woo?

___: is it ok if i call you that-

wonwoo: yes?

wonwoo: n yes, perfectly fine

___: ok

___: um, so the class im in rn, we’re almost done btw!

___: they need me to write some kind of paper abt how psychology n business work

___: n since you’re a psych major

wonwoo: you need my help, yes?

___: bingo

___: is it possible for you to help me?

wonwoo: sure thing

wonwoo: why don’t you go over the details with me once you’re out of class?

wonwoo: we’ve booked the discussion room for the entire day

___: don’t the others have class?

Wonwoo can feel Mingyu and Vernon standing behind him as they “observe” his conversation with you. “Oooh, you’re texting his girl~” Mingyu teases, earning a glare from the older male that shuts him up immediately. “She needs help with her coursework and I have relevant information that can help her,” he replies as he resumes to type out his reply.

wonwoo: seungcheol only has one class today iirc

wonwoo: gyu and vernon have some kind of workshop in an hour

___: oh, cool!

___: then i can also get cheollie’s opinion

“Do you think they have a thing for each other?” Vernon asks, seemingly picking up on certain signs just from the text Wonwoo had just exchanged with you.

“Who? Seungcheol hyung and ___?” Mingyu asks back and he nods. The taller male thinks for a while, recalling the times that he’s seen any form of interaction or exchanged conversation the pair have shared. “Maybe? But, there weren’t any obvious signs that explicitly showed that Seungcheol or ___ like the other.”

“Well, there is a saying that love is in plain sight. Or that whole “you were hiding in plain sight” trend that was going around CIRCLES a few months ago.”

“Should we play cupid?”

“I think it’d be best if we don’t interfere with their love life.”

Wonwoo had a point. While their curiosity was gnawing away, the last thing they’d wanna do is accidentally driving a wedge between you and Seungcheol. It would be worse if they were reading the room wrong and neither of you were harbouring any feelings for the other. “But, that doesn’t mean we can’t find some clues to answer our hypothesis.”

Mingyu and Vernon looked at the older male who was still typing on his laptop. “Are we conducting experiments on them now?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. I’d say it’s more of observing their interactions with each other.”

“We’ll leave the psychology part to the psych major.”

“If this ends up being your thesis paper, Woo, we’d better be given credits.”

Later that night…

gyu created the group Operation Cupid 💘

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwooo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetner @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnothelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp @shingbangyes @black-swan-blog27 @minhui896

[sunnylua]

loml | G. Satoru

angst, arranged marriage;

-

You had to excuse yourself from the table. The sight of a woman, who’s now the fiancee of the man who swore he’d give you the stars and the moon, intertwining her fingers with his. It made you want to throw up. Your heart clenched in the worst way as you stepped out of the café.

Such an idiot. He really thought it was a good idea for me to meet her.

You left for a few years and you came back to this. The love of your life marrying someone else.

He had to excuse himself too, following you outside. He gently tapped your shoulder once he reached you.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked, his signature smile on his lips, which immediately faded when he sensed something was off.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just needed some air.” You replied.

“You’re a terrible liar.” He leaned back on a wall next to you.

A dry chuckle escaped your lips. “I hate that you know me well.”

His expression continued worried. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?” He was still your best friend after all.

You sighed. “I don’t know, I just don’t feel very comfortable.” Uncomfortable was an understatement. You felt like your heat was being ripped out of your chest.

He nodded. “You don’t feel comfortable seeing us together.” You didn’t want to admit it to him, but he already knew.

“Can you blame me? How was I supposed to expect you were going to marry someone… and so suddenly.” You looked away from his eyes, you felt ashamed.

Satoru let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you like this. It's just..." He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts and articulate what he wanted to say. He knew that there was no easy way to explain the situation.

“It's just... my clan. They basically forced me to marry her. They wanted someone from another powerful family to continue their bloodline. It's a stupid tradition, I know..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes searching your face for any sign of understanding. He wasn’t trying to make excuses, he just wanted you to understand the difficult position he was in.

You sighed. “I can’t even be mad at you…” As much as you wanted to blame him for it, you couldn’t. You knew it wasn’t his fault, or hers.

Satoru’s shoulders relaxed, relieved that you weren't angry at him. He took a step closer to you, his hand gently reaching out to touch your shoulder. He looked into your eyes, his expression filled with guilt. "I never wanted this, you know? I never wanted to marry someone I don’t even love...”

You took a deep breath, looking away from him. “You look good together, might be convenient.”

Satoru's jaw tightened as he clenched his fists at his sides. He knew deep down that what you said had some truth to it, but hearing it out loud made him feel a pang of frustration and anger. "Is that all you see it as? A convenient arrangement? Do you think I actually wanted this, that I'm happy to marry a woman I don't even love?"

“I know you don’t, but that’s what it is now.” You were saying things you didn’t mean, your logic fighting with your emotions.

Satoru's expression softened once again. He knew you were right, but hearing it from you stung nonetheless. He let out a defeated sigh and leaned against the wall. "Yeah... you're right. That's what it is now. A convenient arrangement that I'm forced into."

You looked at him, seeing his sad eyes made your heart ache. “I’m sorry this is happening…” You sighed.

Satoru shook his head, his eyes falling to the ground. He appreciated your sympathy, but it didn’t make the situation any easier to bear. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I should have told you about this sooner..."

After a short silence you spoke. “Don’t invite me to the wedding.”

Your words hit Satoru like a punch to the gut. He flinched slightly, his mind spinning. He hadn't even considered the wedding. And now, hearing you refuse to attend... It hurt. A lot. "You... what?”

You press your lips, your eyes were getting teary “God, don’t even tell me the date or the place.”

As your eyes filled with tears, Satoru's expression turned pained. He hated seeing you like this, but he knew he was the one who caused it. He swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke quietly. "I... I won't tell you the date. But... Damn it, yn. Will I even see you again before that?"

“Would it make sense to?” Your tears finally ran down your cheeks.

Satoru's voice caught in his throat. He knew the answer to your question, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. "No... it probably wouldn’t make sense. But damn it, I don’t care. I want to see you."

You slightly shook your head. “It’s not fair… for me or for her.” Your voice cracked. You wanted to tell him that you loved him and you’d wait for him. To run away with you.

Satoru frowned at your words, his brows furrowing. "Since when were you so concerned about what's fair? Since when has life ever been fair to us?"

“You’re right. Nothing is fair.” Your voice became firm as you looked at him again.

Satoru took another step closer to you again. "Exactly. Life's not fair, and we've both been through our fair share of unfairness. But that doesn't mean… that doesn't mean we have to give up on the things we care about."

“So what will you do, huh? What, Satoru?” You were getting irritated, this whole situation wouldn’t have been happening if you didn’t leave for that stupid mission. “Are you going to ignore the fact that you’re getting married and meet me behind them all?”

Satoru let out a frustrated exhale, running a hand through his hair. He knew that what he was about to say next was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. "Yes. That’s exactly what I want to do. I want to ignore that I’m getting married and continue seeing you. I don’t want to lose you."

You looked at him in the eyes that were now tearing up despite looking angry. “You know you can’t…”

Satoru’s heart sank as he watched the tears well up in your eyes. He knew you were right, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. "Damn it yn, I know! I know it’s stupid and selfish, but I can’t help it. I can’t bear the thought of losing you."

“I don’t want this either… but you’re losing me.”Those words escaped your lips hurting both the both of you. Those words resounded loudly as if they were the only words that could be heard.

Satoru’s heart squeezed in his chest as you said those words. He took a step back, his arms hanging limply at his sides. "You’re right, I did. But I don’t want to accept it. I don’t want to accept that I can’t see you anymore. That I can’t touch you.”

“It’s time to start facing it, Satoru.” You said quietly looking away.

“Easier said than done… how do you expect me to feel when I’m losing the woman I love the most in my life.” He said irritated.

“And how do you think I feel? Coming back after two years to see you hand in hand with the perfect woman?!” You almost cried saying this, feeling like you had a knife twisting in your chest.

Satoru took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He hated seeing you so upset, and it was killing him knowing that there was nothing he could do to change the situation. "I wish things could be different. I wish I could choose who I wanted to be with. But the clan…" He trailed off, his voice filled with bitterness.

“It’s always the clan…” You said under your breath. “There’s no more today say. You… you should go back inside. We’ve been here for so long.” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand.

Satoru looked conflicted. He didn’t want to go back, he wanted to spend more time with you, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. He reluctantly nodded, his expression resigned. "Yeah, you’re right. I should go back."

He looked at you, his eyes red and tear stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, yn. I really am…”

“I am too…”

The both of you parted ways. Walking back to your new lives without each other. It turned from calling the love of your life to loss of your life.

-

Lua’s note: damn

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Sod’s Law

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader Summary: For some reason bad luck followed you everywhere but it did lead to something special happening. Warnings: bad language WC: 871

F1 Masterlist

The fundamental principle of Sod’s Law states: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. That statement could not have been more true than the day you met Lando.

Montréal 2023

“That is what happens when you choose the cheapest hotel. Honestly, you should have just stayed with us.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear just to glare at it, not that Hayley could see the daggers you were mentally sending her. Huffing indignantly, you tucked the device back between your shoulder and ear.

“It took all my savings just to get here, I couldn’t exactly afford the Four fucking Seasons.”

“It’s a Best Western, thank you very much,” she replied with an equal level of sass. “You really did have a bad sleep, didn’t you?”

“To have a bad sleep requires actually getting to sleep. I’ll call you when I get to the track, I’m almost at the bus stop now.”

“Alright, stay safe, love you.”

“You too-oomph,” you slammed into a figure that had rushed out of the actual Four Seasons hotel and fell down on your ass, wearing the coffee that was meant to perk you up.

“Un-fucking-believable. This is just perfect.” You were ranting as you shook your hands free of the hot liquid scalding them but you didn’t care, it wasn’t like your day could get any worse.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t see you there,” a British man apologised and you looked up from the brown mess that was once your white shirt.

Your jaw dropped as you saw who it was holding his hand out to help you up. You might as well have been a fish for how you looked, opening and closing your mouth without being able to actually formulate words. “Uh. You, your Lando.”

“And you are?” he asked as he wiggled his fingers for you to take.

The many spoonfuls of sugar in the coffee had left a sticky residue on your hand and he wrinkled his nose at the feeling when he pulled you to your feet. “I’m sorry.”

“Was my fault,” he shrugged, wiping his hand on his jeans.

“Trust me, it wasn’t. I have the worst luck in the world. My luck is so bad that when my mother went to smudge me with sage, she singed my hair.”

His brows pinched together in confusion. “I don’t know what that means but I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“My shirt would say otherwise,” you said with a sigh, knowing there wasn’t enough time to return to the hotel and change. If you did that then you would miss the bus and with your luck it would snowball until you missed the entire race.

“I feel terrible for ruining your outfit,” he said sincerely and looked to the man accompanying him who just nodded. “How about you come with us and I can get you some McLaren merch? It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You desperately wanted to accept his offer but you feared what would happen. “Bad things happen around me and I would really like to see you win.”

Lando laughed and placed a hand on your back as he guided you to a SUV that a valet had brought around. “I don’t believe that.”

“We’ll see who’s laughing, just wait.”

—

“I’m not unsportsmanlike, I don’t understand it.”

You winced as you watched the post-race interview from McLaren’s hospitality and slunk deeper into your seat. You felt like an imposter with the VIP paddock pass hanging around your neck but thankfully no one really paid you any mind.

As promised, Lando had found you a papaya orange shirt and hoodie to change into before going to do his own thing. He’d said he would see you later but you still weren’t sure if it was in the literal sense or just a casual goodbye. So you ended up loitering around just in case.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Lando said as he fell heavily into the empty seat beside you.

Your head fell and you fidgeted with a bracelet on your wrist as you tried to hold back the tears of embarrassment welling in your eyes. “I’m sorry, I did warn you.”

“Hey,” he whispered softly, his finger curling under your chin to lift it back up. “I’m joking.”

“I’m not. It’s been like this my whole life. If something can go wrong, rest assured it will.”

Lando rose to his feet and held his hand out. You sighed quietly and started to pull the VIP pass as he came to his senses but he laughed and shook his head. “Your hand.”

You were beyond confused as you placed your palm in his and let him pull you to your feet. “Why?”

“Your luck is about to change, and I’m going to prove it.”

You chewed your lip hesitantly but eventually nodded, earning a warm smile that lit up his face. “But nothing dangerous. I’m not risking a parachute malfunction or engine failure.”

He held up his little finger and wiggled it. “Pinky promise.”

You hooked your finger with his and felt a spark flicker to life within you. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope after all.

[itsabouttimex2]

Hello there! could we see a prequel of when platonic yandere Erasermic first saw Cloud quirk reader! I feel like the reader wouldn't exactily look like oboro, but then seeing that quirk and having that energetic personality would send the memories of oboro back into there mind

These two mourn Oboro to this day. It’s a major part of both of their characters, woven into their beings. They won’t move on. They can’t forget. So when they see you, something kind of cracks inside them.

Aizawa pauses, and just… stares. His chest tightens painfully, as a deluge of long-buried memories gnaw at his mind. It’s easy to that he’d be the strong one, the stoic one. But he isn’t. He’s a broken man long burdened by grief. It’s clear he hasn’t managed to move on from losing Oboro in the slightest.

However, Hizashi was able to healthily move on to some degree and become a teacher, a DJ, a radio host, a hero. Sure, it’s possible that he uses his exuberance to cope with grief or to draw Aizawa out of his worst moments, but he stills manages to be sunny and bright. All the same, he possesses a well-hidden ruthlessness and an extremely powerful Quirk that he’s not afraid to use. The moment he stops smiling, it’s probably time to run and hide, because something is terribly wrong.

And when he sees you, he stops smiling. There’s a moment where his larger than life personality and cheery disposition both slip, leaving him in a rare state of shocked silence. Hizashi just stands and watches, eyes going wide behind his concealing sunglasses. His gangly arms drop to his sides, his every bit of attention focused on staring you down.

Maybe it’s some kind of cruel joke. Maybe he’s been hit by a Quirk, creating a tailored distraction to keep him from noticing an approaching foe. Maybe he’s just seeing things. But no, he isn’t. You’re real, with his personality and Quirk.

———————————————————————

“Oboro…,” Aizawa mumbles to himself, caught in a similar state to his loudmouth friend. His bloodshot eyes catch on your smile, watching as you chat with a friend. The two of you walk side by side, trails of vapor and fog drifting from your fingertips as you show off your Quirk. Your friend laughs in amazement, watching in awe as the clouds shift into different shapes and figures, bending perfectly to your will.

Once, Oboro had done the same for him. Whenever Aizawa seemed down, he’d whip up a cloud and shape it into the cutest kitten he could manage, often ending up with a horrifically disfigured mess that had his friend stifling a smile.

Words catch in his throat. He can barely think straight. It feels like he can’t even stand.

He stumbles through the halls, making the short trip to his classroom, still empty. He snatches his phone from his pocket, fumbling with it until he has his loud-mouthed on the other end.

“You saw them. I know you did. Why didn’t you… why didn’t you warn me?”

A loud sigh from the other end. “Sorry, Sho. The kid’s in class 1-B, so I figured I’d get the chance to tell you in person. Didn’t think you’d run into them so soon.”

He desperately racks his brain for something to say, some way to respond. Hizashi beats him to it.

“Actually, Nemuri learned before me, and didn’t say a word either. I think she’s a little broken up too, honestly. Least we’re not alone, right?”

At least they’re not alone. Aizawa would agree, but can’t manage to swallow the lump in his throat. He just holds the phone to his ear, wondering if it was a blessing or curse that you didn’t get put in his class.

“They seem like a good kid, Sho. I’m gonna keep an eye out for them.”

“So they don’t end up like Oboro” is the unspoken second half of that last sentence. Voicing it out loud makes it a legitimate fear. Leaving it vague means the image stays vague, the fear stays vague. Just an uncanny feeling of potential danger, rather than outright fear for a child’s mortality.

“You know what, Mic? I think I’ll keep an eye out for the kid too.”

Because he can’t bring himself to relive that scene ever again a child shouldn’t have to worry about getting hurt at UA.

So they’ll look out for you. Nothing strange about it. Nothing serious, no cause for alarm.

Not yet.

[serafilms]

song 99! up all night (stray kids) + tim drake (spotify wrapped event)

i don't want to go to sleep now, i’ll be making a masterpiece now, i look for caffeine without even realizing, start with a cup

If there was one thing you loved about your job, it was the all the attractive people who came in for their daily dose of coffee. Not that everyone who drinks coffee is attractive, but you worked at a coffee shop near the local university. A pretty nice, aesthetic but not overly themed coffee shop, with actually good coffee.

Which meant all the students from the university and some other cooler looking adults often populated it. There was always a new beautiful face every day for you to admire. And you loved it.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” You heard your coworker say. You looked up and did a double take. Not because the customer in front of the counter was super hot, or anything (but he probably was, when he didn’t look like total shit). The circles under his eyes weren’t dark, because that implies that they could have been darker, but there was absolutely no way they could’ve been. This guy literally looked like the undead.

“Biggest iced americano you’ve got, no water and eight extra shots.”

Your coworker’s jaw dropped alongside yours, and you watched her splutter for a moment before gathering her composure. Props to her, because your jaw was still on the floor.

“Are you sure? That’s like 600 milligrams of caffeine.”

“More, actually,” you interjected, feeling both eyes turn to you instantly. You tried not to shrink under the customer’s pseudo-vampire-zombie stare. “Our espresso shots have like 75 milligrams each.”

Your coworker nodded fervently and turned to the customer again.

He seemed to ponder this for a moment, and you started feeling hopeful that he would cancel the order and go with a simple iced caramel macchiato until he said, “Actually, make it two. But no ice in the second one. I’ll save it for later.”

You both deflated and your coworker rang up the order as you grabbed two large cups and a pen. “Name?”

“Tim.”

“Alright, ‘Tim.’” You wrote the name on the cups and then went to make his drinks. You sick freak.

‘Tim’ plopped himself over at a table in the corner of the store by the window, and took out a very large laptop.

He looked so focused on his work that it scared you a little bit, so you took your time making the drinks to delay the inevitable handover.

“Why are you going so slow?” The voice of your coworker startled you as she appeared at your side.

“I’m really scared of him,” you whispered.

She surveyed the guy. “Yeah, he might not even hear if you call his name. I think you’re gonna have to go up and give them to him.”

“What?”

“Sorry, babes.”

“You’re the worst.”

She responded by shoving you out from behind the counter.

You felt yourself shaking a little as you walked up to the scary, workaholic, caffeinated man, but you managed to steel yourself enough to place the two cups in front of him, and stammer out a, “Here are your drinks.”

He glanced up at you and managed a polite smile that looked surprisingly human, which made something flurry up in your stomach. Wow, my standards must have really dropped, you thought. Still, if you ignored how terrible he looked, you supposed he wasn’t bad looking at all. His hair only looked slightly unwashed, but it was nicely cut and dark, and his eyes were a nice shade of blue.

“Thanks, uh,” Tim squinted at your name badge and you wondered if his vision was blurry from sleep deprivation, “Y/N.”

You kind of liked the way he said your name, you couldn’t lie, but you had dignity to uphold, and crushing on a walking health hazard didn’t seem like the way to do that. So instead, you nodded and made your way back to the counter.

Tim stayed all throughout the rest of the morning rush, then finished his first coffee around midday and immediately dug into his second. He stayed until your coworker clocked out, giving you an incredulous look as she left, and your next coworker clocked in. Then around the afternoon, he stood up suddenly and went to the counter.

You rushed to be the one to greet him (having failed to explain his story to your other coworker for fear of Tim hearing).

“Hi,” you said, feeling a little silly as the words left your mouth, “what can I get you?”

He looked a little amused and a little more awake (thanks to the establishment’s primo coffee beans, not paid promotion), and you felt the tips of your ears heat up as he took some time to look you up and down. You felt a little self conscious under his gaze as he scanned over your face, and you tucked a bit of loose hair behind your ear. You were seriously into this guy now, oh my god.

That was one downside of working in this job, you got flustered very easily by the attractive people.

“I’m running a little low on coffee,” Tim said, and your eyes flicked towards his table to see two empty cups, “and I was hoping to order another.”

“Another 10 shot death drink?” You felt a little panicky as you soon as you said the words, wondering if you’d overstepped a line and the strangely attractive caffeine addict might attack you. You weren’t supposed to judge customer’s drinks.

Thankfully, he grinned. “Death drink?”

“I mean, it’s almost double the recommended intake of caffeine. And you’ve drank two.”

“Point taken. What do you drink?”

“Oh,” your face turned warm again, “I don’t drink coffee.”

Tim blinked. “You’re a barista.”

“Yeah. I like hot chocolate,” you offered helpfully.

He let out a surprised laugh, then said, “How about this? I’ll order a hot chocolate to go instead, if you write your number on the cup.”

Your eyes widened. The tips of your ears felt hot again and your stomach did another little flutter. He was flirting with you. Oh goodness.

“Okay,” you squeaked. “Deal.”

Tim grinned at you. “Thanks Y/N.”

You rang him up, blushing furiously and hoping he couldn’t tell and rushed to make the drink. It was pretty quick this time around, but you took extra care to add a little extra chocolate powder the way you liked it, and when you were done, you wrote your number on the cup and added a little heart for good measure.

Tim was all packed up and ready to go when you were finished, waiting for you at the pickup area.

“Thanks,” he said again when you handed the cup over, and for once he looked a little bashful. You liked that. “I’ll call you. Or text you.”

“Either is good,” you smiled, face still impossibly hot.

He gave you one last smile as he exited the shop, and you immediately collapsed against the counter when he was gone.

“What was that all about?” Your coworker asked.

You waved him off. “Nothing.”

Oh my god.

some of y’all have got third eyes or something bc there’s no way this song + character match up happened

[fandangotales]

500 Followers Event, figured I would do it right out the gate so I didn't forget lol. Also, be aware this is lengthy and I am so sorry for it.

How do you think the characters (Jean, Ningguang, and Sara) would react to a reader who listens to crime and history stories while playing, in particular crime cases such as Jack the Ripper, history stories such as the South Sea bubble and the Depression, and war stories such as the American Civil war or stories from the world wars?

How would Jean react to hearing about the devil of Whitechapel who paralyzed London and was never caught? What would she think of a world where monsters like Jack roam while her god is defenseless.

How would Ningguang react to the first financial crash in history...and the fact that so many people actually fell for it?

How would she feel knowing about just how often our world has financial crashes and just how many troublers it has with currency, and more importantly how would she feel knowing that such times could engulf the world while her God calls it home?

How would Sara react to the bloody and horrible nature of our conflicts, because while Inazuma's civil war may have been bad, I feel that it utterly pales in comparison to the sheer devastation and madness that was America staining itself red.

How would the ever loyal general feel knowing just how devastating and horrific the wars of our world can be, and just how plentiful they are? How would she feel knowing that her creator could be caught in one such conflict with none of them there to protect them?

I intend to do something like this where the Acolytes get tormented with gruesome facts and stories by a child reader who is a history buff and decides to tell them some of the tales about our world...and promptly gives all of them nightmares in the process lol.

I hope to get on the idea...sometime this or next year because I have a few other projects I am working on and I know just how badly I tend to procrastinate.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this ask, if you don't want to do it that is okay. Here is hoping I did everything right in regards to the rules in regards to this ask, but regardless have a great day and stay safe.

If you do end up writing that, I’d love to be tagged so that I can read it. Also, please don’t worry about your ask being troublesome, I’m honored to be getting an ask from one of my favorite SAGAU writers! Keep up the good work on your writing, I always love reading your posts! <3

Honestly, considering the way Teyvat works in regards to safety, and wars… I think it’s fair to say that many, if not all of the people there would be shocked by what life is like on Earth.

For example, if you decided to go out on an adventure by yourself, the worst you’d have to worry about would be hilichurls, considering that you aren’t going anywhere particularly dangerous.

On Earth, that simply wouldn’t work because there are a lot of bad people, and bad things that could happen to you if you were simply out on a walk at night. Especially if you weren’t in the company of another person.

If Jean heard about people who’ve done horrible things like murdering multiple people for… “The fun of it?”.

I can imagine her being repulsed, and incredibly concerned for your safety.

You may be the literal God of Teyvat, but would that stop anyone from randomly deciding to murder you, “for the fun of it?”

You might hear this idle voice line more often than the others:

“I do hope the Knights of Favonius are all working hard…”

She wants to tell you to take precautions against those with hostile intentions, to make sure you aren’t out to late… if only the code didn’t restrict her from voicing her thoughts.

For now she’d have to settle with reminding you of how safe Mondstadt was. With the Knights of Favonius, you would be safe.

With her, you’d always be safe.

Just… please be careful, alright?

The first time Ningguang heard about how terribly this world deals with money, she’d probably laugh.

“Oh, how amusing.” She’d chuckle, before realizing that it was your reality, instead of just a poorly made joke.

The idea of multiple currencies seems especially stranger to her, since Teyvat only uses Mora. (Disregarding the use primogems, which is only for you.)

One day, however, as you were talking while playing Genshin, she heard you bring up something called “inflation”.

You then proceeded to complain about how food prices where getting ridiculously expensive, and how your “fridge” had literally no food in it.

Ningguang seemed to freeze, being brought back to her early days as a child.

She had been through similar struggles, but knowing that her God is going through financial issues?

That her God is suffering because of the undeserving world in which they reside?

Preposterous.

“There were over 60 million casualties from World War 2…”

The voice droned on, as another daily commission was completed.

Sara’s face blanched, taking in the numbers.

60 million.

That was well over the number of citizens living in the entirety of Inazuma.

“The war was notable for the Nazi-sponsored genocide of the Jewish people…”

Genocide of people?

Why?

Her hands shook around her bow, as you guided her to shoot a hilichurl, directly in the head.

Sara heard you sigh, as the monotone voice was silenced.

Your divine voice spoke over the background music of the game.

“Third war I’ve had to research this week, interesting, huh?”

This was… considered an everyday occurrence for you?

Another shot, the hilichurl faded to dust.

You lived in a world where wars like that frequently happened-

She steeled herself, finding resolve as she struggled to keep shooting the hilichurls.

Sara would find a way to bring you to Teyvat, where you wouldn’t be in any danger, ever again.

[mcdonaldsplayground]

| actually the worst | part 4

ao’nung x f!reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | bonus part

summary: just when things start to seem decent between you and ao'nung, you discover that he's done something terrible. though your family begins to forgive him, you know he doesn't deserve forgiveness for being a total dick. so why do you feel so bad for him?

includes: enemies to lovers, swearing, teasing, mentions of fighting/death, ao'nung being a terror😐

word count: 3k

a/n: okay i thiiiink i can wrap this up in one or two more parts, so hopefully this series will be finished up in a few days. i’m sorry i think this is getting repetitive, but i swear things are gonna change up a bit soon😏

“What was the one thing I asked? The one thing?” Your father demanded, sounding like he was gearing up to give one of his famous “Lo’ak Lectures” as you and your siblings called them. His disappointment was understandable, but you were itching to try and set the record straight. You thought Lo’ak was incredibly stupid for starting a fight, sure, but it seemed unfair for him or any of you to get into trouble for standing up for yourselves.

“Stay out of trouble…” Lo’ak answered wearily.

“Stay out of trouble, right.” Jake was about to go off when Neteyam tried to intervene.

“It was my fault-”

“I don’t think so. You have got to stop taking the heat for this knucklehead!” Jake exclaimed, making you flinch. He was being harsh, as per usual, so you decided to see if he would listen to you.

“Dad. Ao’nung was picking on Kiri.” You said calmly, hoping your twitching tail didn’t betray how angry you actually were.

“And you.” Lo’ak added, giving you a look. “He called them freaks.” As if he hasn’t called me that a million times already, you thought to yourself, though you had to admit that this time was less teasing and more targeted.

“And he hit you?” Your dad questioned, gesturing to the newly forming bruise on your cheek, anger flickering in his eyes. You could tell what he thought of Ao’nung without even asking.

“What? No!” You couldn’t help but reach up and brush your fingers over your cheek, wincing a little. You hadn’t stopped thinking about Ao’nung’s expression after you had gotten hit. You had never seen him look at anyone that way before, almost like he was actually concerned. “It was an accident. I stepped into the middle of the fight like an idiot.” You shrugged, realizing you felt a little afraid for Ao’nung, not wanting him to take the heat for something you could never imagine him doing. You took solace in the fact that the feeling was involuntary. You still wanted to kick his teeth in.

Your father sighed, looking around as he decided how to respond. “Lo’ak, go apologize to Ao’nung.” He said finally, sending your heart plummeting into your stomach.

“What?” Lo’ak breathed, incredulous.

“He’s the chief’s son, do you understand? I don’t care how you do it, just go make peace. Just go.” He shooed Lo’ak outside, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watched the boy stalk angrily away. You groaned, thinking about how smug Ao’nung was going to be now. You imagined your life was about to become insufferable.

“So, what’d the other guys look like?” Jake tried to ease the tension, though he appeared genuinely curious. You rolled your eyes.

“Worse.” Neteyam replied.

“That’s good.” Even with a straight face, you could tell your father was secretly proud of his sons, but it did little to make you feel better.

“A lot worse.” Neteyam decided to push his luck, smiling cheekily as he peered up to get your father’s reaction. The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of Jake’s mouth before returning to his familiar strict expression.

“Get out of here.” He said, and you and Neteyam quickly distanced yourselves from the marui.

“Should we go find Lo’ak?” You asked. “He’s probably gonna have permanent ego damage after this.”

Neteyam laughed. “Probably. But nah, he’ll come find us after he’s done licking his wounds. Let’s go tell Kiri and Tuk what happened.” He tugged you toward the village, the two of you setting off to find your sisters.

It was getting late, but you didn’t have an appetite, so when your siblings started heading back to the marui for dinner, you decided to walk around the beach instead.

You spent most of your walk looking down at the sand, trying to spot some nice shells to collect. You were just about to reach down to grab an iridescent-looking one when you bumped into something warm and solid. Blinking, you realized that your face was mere inches away from a broad chest. You backed up hurriedly, blushing.

“Sorry I-” Your apology was cut short when you finally looked up and saw those piercing blue eyes staring down at you. He seemed just as startled as you, the two of you standing in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. The look on his face was strange, guilty almost. You figured he would have been cocky as ever after Lo’ak’s apology, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Looks like Lo’ak got you good.” You broke the silence, deciding the most normal way to go about this interaction would be to tease him. He took the bait, narrowing his eyes as a sly smile tugged at his lips. His eyes roamed your face, inciting that buzzing feeling in your stomach that often came about under his gaze.

“Looks like-” But his words died at his lips when his stare came to rest on your cheek. Most of your hair had fallen down to cover it, but you guessed that some of your bruise must have been peeking out enough for him to notice now. He stepped forward seemingly without thinking, gingerly pushing your hair back behind your ear as he examined the bruise with a hard expression. You were frozen in place, unsure of how to respond.

“Are you okay?” He questioned, his voice low and quiet.

“Um, what?” You couldn’t help but be confused, having never seen the tall boy act like this before.

“Does it hurt?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you think, genius?” This made him huff in annoyance, but he didn’t move away.

“Come,” Was his only response, placing his hand on your back as if to guide you along with him when he started toward the village. Against your better judgement, you found yourself being guided along with little resistance.

“Where are you taking me, weirdo?” You tried to put some venom into your words in an attempt to get the old Ao’nung back instead of this strange, concerned clone of his.

“Do you ever stop talking?” He bit back, rolling his eyes. There he was. You almost smiled.

“You know, if you’re taking me somewhere to murder me, everyone is going to suspect you, like, immediately.”

“I’m not going to murder you.”

“Then where are we going?”

“Stop asking dumb questions, forest girl.”

“Just tell me where-”

“Maybe I will murder you just to have some peace and quiet.” Ao’nung growled, steering you up to a very small marui pod that seemed to be unoccupied. “We’re here.”

You chuckled, unsurprised that this whole thing had turned out meaningless. “Wow, this is really nice. Thank you for the pointless walk and terrible company, but I have to get going now.” You deadpanned, turning to go, only for him to grab your arm with a huff.

“Would you just sit down? I know what I’m doing.” He gestured to the small ledge just outside of the marui. You rapidly tried to work out what his end goal was, but obliged to his request, sitting cautiously as he ducked inside. When you peeked into the pod, you noticed various pots, bottles, and dried greenery, but you and Ao’nung seemed to be the only living beings around the area. The thought set your heart racing.

“Here. Now stay still.” Ao’nung popped back out of the pod, holding a small pot of what looked like ground up herbs in some kind of paste. It was then that you remembered who his mother was and figured this was probably storage for her medicines. You tensed, scooting away from him.

“I am not letting you play doctor on me.” You scoffed.

“Don’t be such a baby. My mother is Tsahìk, I know what I’m doing.” He sat down beside you, waiting annoyedly for you to allow him closer.

“Yeah? Well, you’re still a dipshit, so stay away from me with that stuff.” Ao’nung shook his head, groaning.

“You are impossible,” He hissed. “I use this all the time on myself, okay? It works.”

You glared at him for a long moment before giving in, still wary of his insistence to help you. He smirked when you relaxed somewhat, and dipped his fingers into the paste as he leaned toward you.

You gasped a little when he made contact with the bruise, surprised at the coldness.

“Don’t tell me that hurt, forest girl.” Ao’nung mocked quietly, smirking at your annoyed expression.

“Was just cold.” You mumbled, and he went back to gently spreading the paste along your tender cheek. His featherlight touch and warm breath fanning across your skin gave you goosebumps. The silence was too much for you.

“I don’t know if you got brain damage from being punched too hard, but we,” You whispered, gesturing dramatically between the two of you. “Don’t get along.” You stared directly into his amused eyes. “It’s actually weirding me out that you’re being… nice?”

“Just shut up, freak. Listen to the ocean or something so I can enjoy the quiet.”

You wanted to keep talking just to annoy him, but you soon settled into the comfortable silence, listening to the soft lapping waves and the insects humming.

The sun had begun to set, washing everything in golden light as it started to dip below the horizon. Ao’nung’s skin looked soft in the golden glow, his eyes turning a shade of blue that you didn’t even know existed. You were staring but you couldn’t pull your eyes away, not when he was practically caressing your face. Suddenly, his eyes flickered away from his focus on your bruise and locked with yours. The air in the minuscule space between you felt charged with electricity. You briefly wondered what it would be like to lean a few inches forward and kiss his cheek. Or his lips.

“[Y/N]! There you are!” Neteyam’s relieved voice instantly shattered the strange bubble you and Ao’nung had just been living in. Both of you jerked away from one another, as if burned. “What are you doing here?” Neteyam’s tone changed when he took in the full scene before him. Despite the distance you had just put between yourselves, there was a only so much space on the marui ledge, and both of you looked flushed.

When he didn’t receive an answer right away, Neteyam stepped closer, narrowing his eyes at Ao’nung. “I asked what you are doing here. With my sister.” He said through clenched teeth, looking murderous.

“Teyam, it’s okay. He was helping me with this. See?” You turned your cheek slightly to show him your newly treated bruise. Neteyam’s gaze flicked between that and the paste still in Ao’nung hand. He seemed satisfied enough with the answer, but still didn’t relax much.

“Well, mom and dad want you back home soon. It’s almost dark.” He stretched his hand out to you, helping you down from the ledge to stand beside him. Your heart was still racing and your skin burning as your mind tried to make sense of everything. Ao’nung said nothing, though his own chest was heaving slightly.

“Let’s go.” You murmured, lightly pulling your brother away. “Um- thank you.” The words came out robotic, and couldn’t bring yourself to meet Ao’nung’s eyes as you said them. You didn’t wait for a response before you and Neteyam slowly trailed away. You were rapidly trying to decide how to explain everything to your brother when he spoke, seemingly more worried about something else.

“I thought Lo’ak would have been with you.” He was clearly deep in thought, concerned over something you were unaware of.

“Why? Didn’t he go back to the marui for dinner?” That’s where you assumed he would have been. It wasn’t like him to skip a meal.

“No, he didn’t.” Neteyam shared a look with you. “I told mom and dad that I would bring him back with you.” He looked scared now, and you didn’t blame him. As you racked your brain, also growing scared for your brother, you suddenly stopped, remembering something.

“Ao’nung!” You whipped around, starting quickly back toward the marui where the boy still sat. His surprised expression rapidly shifted into confusion when he noticed the look on your face.

“Where is Lo’ak?” You demanded, not missing the way he tensed before slumping his shoulders slightly. He looked down.

“I was going to tell you…” He started and it took everything in you to stay calm and let him continue. “That’s why I was on the beach. I was looking for you. But then I saw you were hurt and I got distracted-”

“Where. Is. Lo’ak?” You breathed, far too mad to register his unusual remorsefulness.

“We took him out hunting,” His head lowered even more, his voice downcast. “Past the reef…”

It was safe to say that your entire family was seething at Ao’nung, though your parents clearly tried not to show it. You knew they constantly worried about offending the Olo’eyktan- and Ao’nung happened to fall under that umbrella of protection. You, however, couldn’t care less who he was. You wanted to kill him.

He had told your parents everything after you and Neteyam dragged him back home, which resulted in a search party being sent out to look for Lo’ak. The thought that he might not ever return gripped your throat and lungs, making it hard to breathe. Tears were streaming down your face, but you couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed, despite the large amount of people who could see you crying. Ao’nung was trying to help by explaining where they had taken your brother, but you had begun to notice that he would frequently pause to glance at you from afar. You kept your distance for fear of not being able to control yourself if you got too close. It didn’t matter that he had already apologized a thousand times. It didn’t matter that he seemed genuinely sorry. That damage was done.

As you began gearing up to take your ikran out (against the wishes of your parents), a horn sounded, followed by some unintelligible shouts while a crowd formed at the dock. You instantly dropped your gear and ran toward the commotion, arriving just in time to see Lo’ak approaching on the back of someone’s ilu. He stepped off easily, thanking his rescuer before turning to face the crowd. Without a second thought, you jumped down into the sand to meet him, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. He may have been larger than you, but you felt that you could have picked him up and swung him around.

“I’m okay.” He breathed, patting your back in reassurance. You only released him when you noticed his vision fall on Ao’nung who was standing on the dock above you. Lo’ak narrowed his eyes, starting menacingly toward him.

“Hey, hey.” Your father had appeared behind you, grabbing Lo’ak to prevent him from getting into his second fight of the day. “Let’s have a look at you.” He quickly examined your brother, who surprisingly appeared unharmed. Only a few marks here and there.

“He’s fine, he’s fine. Just a few scratches.” Jake was quick to try and wave everyone away, as if that would magically fix the situation. The tension only tightened as Neytiri arrived, assessing Lo’ak’s condition.

“I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son.” She hissed, making a clawing motion at his face. Lo’ak, however, seemed to have calmed down, an almost bored expression on his face.

“No! My son knows better than to take him outside the reef.” Tonowari spoke up, putting a hand on Ao’nung to push him down to his knee, looking more ashamed than ever. Despite what he had done to your brother, your felt a pang in your heart.

“This is not Ao’nung’s fault.” Lo’ak suddenly said, standing up straighter, and you couldn’t believe your ears. What was he doing? Even Ao’nung looked extremely taken aback. “This was my idea. Ao’nung tried to talk me out of it.” If you didn’t know him so we’ll, you might have just believed him. A stunned silence followed, no one sure of what to say in the face of such a humbling remark. Eventually, Lo’ak stiffly nodded at Tonowari and set off toward the village.

You quickly scrambled after him, dying to ask him why the hell he was suddenly being so humble.

“Lo’ak!” You panted, jogging up beside him. He didn’t slow down, but he didn’t look annoyed that you were there, either. “What was that?” You pressed. He only shrugged, making you roll your eyes. “Lo’ak, come on, why-” You didn’t get to finish before someone approached on Lo’ak’s other side.

“Why did you speak for me?” Ao’nung asked, confounded. You stayed silent, hoping Lo’ak would actually give a proper answer.

“Because I know what it’s like to be one big disappointment.” He turned to briefly meet Ao’nung’s eyes, not a hint of sarcasm or malice in his tone. He was speaking from his heart, causing yours to break a little in turn. Ao’nung stopped walking, a curious expression overtaking his face, though you and Lo’ak kept on walking. It took a good amount of self-control for you to rip your semi-murderous gaze off Ao’nung and keep walking straight. It was silent between you for a long while.

“So, what?” You finally cut in. “Are you two just on good terms now?” It was mostly a joke, but Lo’ak dipped his head into a nod.

“I’m not going to hold a grudge about it, if that’s what you mean.” He said, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What? I mean, after everything you’re not even a little bit mad? You could have died, Lo’ak.”

“Look, he apologized. He seemed weirdly genuine about it. Besides, if we keep holding grudges then this stupid revenge cycle is never going to end.” You had never, in your entire life, heard your youngest brother say something so wise. It made you wonder what really happened to him out at sea.

“Okay, mr. peacemaker. Well, I’m still gonna be pissed at him.” Lo’ak laughed at this, turning to walk backwards in order to face you. It was good to see him smiling again.

“That tracks. Hating each other seems to be your guys’ favourite game.” He grinned as you scowled.

“It’s not a game, Lo’ak. He’s actually the worst.”

“Yeah, actually the worst guy to have a crush on. That’s why you hate him.” Lo’ak snipped, his grin as wide as ever. “You hate that you like him.”

taglist:

@luvlykrispy @foreverfolkloregirly @findingourtreasure @tiddybiddy @nao-cchi @goodiesinthecloset21 @elegantkidfansoul @azaleaniath @cloakedvengeance @philiasoul @aonungmybf @joshuahongsfuturewife @shartnart1 @ayanamire @tireytesulineytiriite @bigmama123 @fucksnow @seashelldom @melsunshine @donaldsmac @littlethingsinlife @kainari144 @thesheelfsworld

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

They’ve suspended Matt Hancock for going on I’m a celeb. Thoughts?

YEAH THEY HAVE

Okay so for those just joining us let me explain this latest dance segment in the clown show

So during the Pandemic, back in the days of Big Dog the Clown being our Prime Minister and encouraging us all to go out and catch COVID because he thought that would make us all stronger, our Health Secretary was a terrifyingly incompetent humanoid blancmange called Matt Hancock. As with all of BlowJo's Cabinet, Matt got the job because he was absolutely fucking terrible at everything except being an oily sycophant. Imagine, if you will, they looked around the circus and saw, not even a clown, but one of the freaks in the freak show; not because he even fit the profile for 'circus freak', but because all he had to do was sit there and guard the bin or something equally useless, and that was all he could achieve (for about 71% of the time, and he would otherwise get distracted by candy floss, which he would try to eat by ramming it into his own nostrils and then get into a muddle and cry); and then imagine that guy is who they selected to be in charge of safety for the acrobat show, and called him Chief Safety Clown.

This guy.

So obviously Britain immediately generated one of the worst covid mortality rates on the planet.

But he didn't stay in position too long, because in the summer of 2021, he broke his own lockdown rules by, yes you guessed it, having a greasy affair with an aide in his Downing Street office and taking her on taxpayer-funded dates. And obviously, that was a big problem because the public were super furious with politicians breaking the lockdown rules, so Boris Johnson did the sensible thing and fired him LMAO LOL ROFL I'm sorry I can't keep a straight face, Boris Johnson said it was completely fine and he could stay.

But uh. Matt Hancock decided a lynch mob was not a scenario he'd planned for, so he resigned, and bumbling ham Sajid Javid took over instead.

So, that explains who he is. Now, his signature move is basically to just fellate whichever ringmaster will give him a job, because as you may have guessed, he certainly is not capable of getting a job otherwise, other than guarding the bin. So as the latest ringmaster auditions began, he immediately set about making little "Rishi is the Greatest Briton" badges and generally doing a really good imitation of Nadine Dorries, except for Sunak instead of Johnson.

...which didn't work because Rishi Sunak passed him up for a job entirely lol

So as far as I can see I think Matt Hancock has finally realised that the only reason he was given a job was because Boris gave him one for doing good cheering. I think he's actually spotted that no one else even likes him, because he's greasy and disgusting and also killed loads of people. So if he wants to get back into politics - or indeed if he wants to move from there into the lucrative world of after dinner speaking - he needs to build his public profile as someone who is likeable and doesn't kill a chunk of the country and doesn't have grubby wandering hands like moist prehensile plums.

So, he decided to go on I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here.

(???!?!?????)

Except the thing is, "being an MP" is actually a job, and you are actually expected to pretend to do that job. I don't know how anyone else's jobs work, Tumblrs, but I personally am not allowed to just... go to Australia for three weeks without taking any annual leave and abandon the office, and also get paid to do so while still drawing my salary. And it turns out nor are MPs.

His excuses so far are:

I can be an MP in the Australian outback, I'm going to talk about dyslexia so really I'll still be working

I don't think I can work in politics for much longer because I'm bad at guarding the bin and Rishi won't let me do anything else even though I said his hair looks nice :(

Let's see how this is going down!

Oh to have a job where you can decide for yourself you're taking a month off, abandon your work and responsibilities, get paid shedloads and face little consequence. I'm sure he'll be an inspiration to other public servants

-Dave Penman, general secretary of the FDA union which represents senior civil servants

The prime minister believes that at a challenging time for the country, MPs should be working hard for their constituents, whether that's in the house or indeed in their constituencies.

-Rishi Sunak's spokesperson

Matt Hancock isn’t a ‘celebrity’, he’s the former health secretary who oversaw the UK having one of the highest death tolls in the world from Covid-19 while breaking his own lockdown rules. The fact that he is trying to cash in on his terrible legacy, rather than showing some humility or seeking to reflect on the appalling consequences of his time in government, says it all about the sort of person he is.

-Lobby Akinnola, from the Covid-19 Bereaved Families for Justice campaign

Following a conversation with Matt Hancock, I have considered the situation and believe this is a matter serious enough to warrant suspension of the whip with immediate effect

-Conservative chief whip, Simon Hart

I’m looking forward to him eating a kangaroo’s penis. You can quote me on that.

-Deputy chair of the West Suffolk Conservative Association, Andy Drummond

So there we have it, folks! It's going super well!!!!

But having the whip suspended means "expelled from the party until the matter is resolved", which means he is, as of now, no longer a Tory - he's an Independent. I imagine his constituents are delighted.

[laundrybiscuits]

Will’s looking at him with those tragic eyes, this kid who’s almost as tall as Eddie but seems centuries younger, infinitely more fragile and breakable. And shit, Eddie is not at all prepared to be some kind of queer mentor. He’s barely keeping his head above water with Robin, who doesn’t expect him to be anything other than a peer with a little more experience in his pocket; he’s a piss-poor option for baby Byers, who desperately needs some kindly gay Gandalf in his life. A role model with like, a long-term boyfriend and a city job and one of those yappy purse dogs.

But Eddie’s the only one here, and what else can he do? So he takes a deep breath and prepares to say something really wise and mentor-y. He doesn’t know what it is yet, but it’ll definitely be both appropriate and profound.

“I mean, it worked out for you, right?” says Will.

“Uh,” says Eddie, thrown completely off track. “What?”

“With—” Will flushes, but continues in a low voice. “You know. With Steve, and all.”

“What,” says Eddie again.

“I mean, sorry if that’s…I know you guys haven’t exactly been telling people, but…you know you can tell me, right?”

“Ahahaha,” says Eddie. “What.”

“I think it’s nice, how you guys managed to move past all the high school stuff and find each other. It’s like—a happy ending, right?”

“Right. I mean, wrong. I mean, whatever you think is going on, it’s not. Jesus christ, Will the Wise, there’s absolutely no way anything would ever be—where are you even getting this? We’re not—we’re not.”

“Sure.” Will rolls his eyes, and Eddie is reluctantly reminded that this kid can be a catty bitch too sometimes. “That’s why he was wearing your Black Sabbath shirt last Tuesday, and why you keep Springsteen in your glove compartment, and why his car is parked in your driveway almost every night. Dude, Dustin doesn’t even bother calling Loch Nora when he’s trying to find Steve now, he just goes straight to your place.”

Laid out like that, it’s a little damning.

“That’s—all out of context,” says Eddie weakly. “And—and Steve is straight, anyway. So. Check and mate, Byers.”

Will lets out an annoyed breath. “I’m sixteen, you know. You don’t have to—look, sorry if I’m pushing too much with this, but…don’t lie to me, okay? Friends don’t lie.”

Eddie’s heard the kids say that last thing every so often, like a mantra or some godawful affirmation. He huffs, shaking his hair out of his face.

“Y’know, that little catchphrase you’ve got isn’t the worst rule in the world, but it’s not the most nuanced, either. Ever heard of discretion, kid?”

“Right,” says Will. “Discretion.” He winks at Eddie, squinching the whole side of his face up like he’s never actually tried winking before, and Eddie is momentarily struck dumb with how terrible the effort is.

Just then, Dustin barrels in talking a mile a minute about some idea he needs Will for immediately, yes right now, Eddie’ll still be here afterwards, come on.

As Eddie watches them go, he awards himself one Gay Gandalf point for effort, and negative five million points for the trouble he can smell coming down the line.

(eta: I am a god damn liar. continuation here.)

[rileyh20]

do you have ponyboy and dally hcs

I don't know if you meant platonically or romantically or if you just wanted the separate characters

So I went with separate characters

Lemme know if that isn't what ya wanted tho!

Ponyboy Curtis:

A pyromantic, he loves fire (Until the church shit)

Suicidal Ponyboy go burrr- (Even if it’s accidental)

Has a fucking terrifying glare, but only actually glares at people when they wake him up (His poor brothers)

Chubby Ponyboy… (Especially after the book cuz his brothers made him eat more to gain nutrients and stuff)

Should not be left alone around a stack of books (He’ll read them all in like two hours)

A really fast reader, but he reads the book over and over again to the point he basically memorizes it

Major third wheel, doesn’t matter if the ship is Jally, or Stevepop, or something else, he’s just a third wheel at heart

Definitely reads the book before he watches the movie 

Sometimes when he wants to write he just can’t, so he does other things instead, but once he’s in the zone, he’ll write for hours without hearing anything around him (He’s just like me fr)

Sarcastic and sassy af sometimes (Because I want him to be, no other reason)

He likes grandma hobbies (You know what I’m talking about, the knitting, sewing kinds of stuff, crafting thingies)

He would be the kind of person who helps you get your locker unstuck when you are either too scared to ask a strong person, or you don’t want your locker beaten into scraps when you could just ask Ponyboy

Cooks sometimes, he ain’t the best, but he isn’t terrible at it (He especially does it if Darry looks like he had a long day)

Sometimes he’s the only person able to stop Sodapop from putting food dye into the food (Especially if Darry is the one cooking)

Sorry y’all, but autistic Ponyboy is what I got for you guys 

May or may not be gender fluid (Let me live my life)

Gets the WORST FUCKING ANXIETY when someone is driving, especially if it’s someone he doens’t trust driving like Two-Bit or Sodapop 😭✋

Okay, but you can’t argue with me on the fact he’s bi coded, and also asexual cuz I want him to be

Has made a joke about Tuesday being “Twosday” (Two-Bit), and everyone just quotes it every now and then

OH ALSO, A DIFFERENT TIME HE GIVES A TERRIFYING GLARE IS WHEN SOMEONE MENTIONS HIS GREEN EYES

Religious Ponyboy… I love you religious Ponyboy

Okay, but on a different note, I think Ponyboy is religious, at least in some way

Somehow knows everyone's full government name??? And also sometimes with use maiden names depending on how angry he is 😭✋ 

Will learn other languages so he can shit talk/swear in front of the gang

You know Ponyboy has those chubby cheeks, just squish his face

I love the HC of Ponyboy being taller than Darry when he grows up, but hear me out, Ponyboy getting a random growth spurt and just somehow being very tall when he’s like 16 or something

Also, gentle giant Ponyboy, please

Dallas "Dally" Winston:

Scared of spiders

He’s also scared of dogs

Ough, I’m thinking bi tbh

Will kick children

Has a soft spot for both Ponyboy and Johnny

Will go violent if he learns someone he cares about got hurt, both emotionally and physically

Sometimes draws, but doesn’t do it that often

Sorry for not having as many for Dally! I've been neglecting my duties to make HCs 😔

[sweetbunpura]

Okay but the thing is… Malleus ISN’T controlling the dreams?

That’s been a HUGE misconception due to him offering to give Lilia a good dream when he came in at the end of his dream. But he doesn’t actually control them at first.

His power is giving them their happily ever after dream at the time he cast the spell.

We know this because why would he have given Lilia that dream? The dream full of suffering where his best friend died and he was in the middle of a war? But it was still his FAVORITE MEMORY because it was Malleus’ birth. That was NOT Malleus’ choice. That was NOT his influence. Malleus wanted to give Lilia his happiest moment, and his magic delivered, no matter how horrible that moment might have seemed to others.

Because Lilia’s happiest moment was also surrounded by some of his worst. Can’t have sunshine without storms and all that.

Now when it comes to Floyd - the problem is, he DOES have ADHD like CRAZY. So the dream WAS fun for him. It WAS what he wanted… at first. The magic worked as it was supposed to. But Floyd’s definition of what was a great dream, a great happily ever after changed. Which meant the good dream became a terrible one.

But he was stuck in it, because the magic didn’t change with him, Malleus’ magic didn’t WORK with Floyd. It gave him ONE dream. It wasn’t expecting Floyd to get BORED of his “perfect” world. Which is how we got that really sad situation.

Another thing that kinda proves that Malleus does not control the dreams unless he directly involves himself, like with Lilia’s dream, is that he has ALL of Sage island asleep and under his spell.

He doesn’t know all of the students at NRC or all the people on Sage Island. So how could he have possibly known what their ideal HEAs were if he’s never met them? He doesn’t. But his magic works with their minds to give them that, just like all the students we know.

So… from what I can tell, Malleus actually isn’t controlling the dreams at all unless he comes in and interferes directly. His magic literally gives the dreamer what they think is what they want in their perfect world. It’s obviously NOT, in the long run, as they are all finding out, but that’s not the point lol.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am still very, VERY interested in what the Savanaclaw students are gonna dream about, because honestly? The twst devs really seem to fuck Leona over. They keep giving him the short end of the stick and like to have characters be mean to him for seemingly no reason. So I’m wondering if they are going to continue this trend and make me SUPER FREAKING MAD or actually give Leona the development that they have continuously hinted at throughout the ENTIRE GAME and actually let him shine for once.

I somehow doubt it, but a girl can *snorts* dream.

Anyway, sorry for the long ask! Just wanted to add my 2¢ about the Malleus dream issue!

You're all good!

I'm just piecing stuff together from what I saw based on Floyd's POV and we don't know the full extent from Malleus' UM. While Floyd's was sad to see, my son needs enrichment, we get moments like Kalim and Jamil's fist fight that made us go:

And the cursed image that is Buff Epel.

So Malleus' magic most likely skims the dreams of the person and makes up the dream from there. But yeah, my now largest issue is Leona's dream given his relationship with Mallues.

But I will admit, it's funny to not only see these dreams, but to figure out some of what we speculated was right.

TWST Devs out here looking at the fandom and taking down notes.

...But this book and Malleus' actions have made me like him a little less. I really wanna see the aftermath tho, cause Crowley can keep the other 6 overblots hidden, but Malleus' was worldwide, you can't hide that.