#not because i don't want to but because i'd get too anxious trying to type a response

[kittyhazelnut]

.

[unreliablesnake]

König couldn't help but smile while he watched you standing in the middle of the square, looking back and forth between the screen of your phone and the nearby streets with a confused look on your gorgeous face. You were lost, he could easily see that.

It was one of those rare occasions when he was off-duty, visiting his family in Austria without having to protect his identity with the usual veil. Yes, he felt naked, almost anxious again, but he reminded himself that everything was okay. He was alone. No one was following him. No one recognized him. It was all good.

So he laughed to himself quietly before walking over to you. "Excuse me," he began, already raising his hands in defense since he knew you would freak out because of his size alone. When you gulped and locked the screen of your phone, he went on. "You seem to be lost. Can I help?"

You hesitated, but your eyes never left his face. Were you just cautious and kept an eye on him to make sure he behaved? Or was there another reason? Maybe something was on his face? When he cocked an eyebrow at you, you cleared your throat and kicked the cobblestone sidewalk.

"I have the goddamn GPS in my phone and I'm still lost," you murmured angrily with an adorable nose scrunch. "I'm looking for this address," you told him once you found the email it was in.

He took a good look at the screen, and he couldn't help but smile. "I'm going right across the street, I can show you the way if you'd like," he offered.

Nodding, you put the device back to your pocket. "That would be great, thank you."

The two of you walked in silence for a while. König had a series of questions on his mind, starting with one about your name and one about whether or not you were a local. Even he got lost sometimes after being away for too long, so he wouldn't be that surprised to find out you were living in this city.

But he remained silent, and instead of opening his mouth, he silently observed your features, taking in the details as if he was trying to remember his girlfriend's looks. But you weren't his girlfriend, although a part of him desperately wanted to ask you out before you parted at your destination.

The great Colonel König was back to his anxious self because of you. His mind was in overdrive, one moment he was just about to open his mouth, the next he wanted to run away and hide from you. It was a terrible feeling, one he didn't have to face on the battlefield. Oh, how he wished he was back there.

"You're tall. And big," you suddenly mused as you turned to him with a smile. "I'm sure a lot of people tell you that, sorry."

He couldn't help but laugh at this. "Yeah, I get that a lot. And you're cute," he added without even thinking.

You came to a sudden halt and turned to him with your hands folded behind your back. "You think I'm cute?"

Damn it. Where the hell did that filter between his mouth and brain go? "I–I... It's not... Yes," he eventually admitted guiltily.

With a laugh, you moved closer to him and playfully nudged his arm with your shoulder. "You don't look bad either. Maybe we could meet later."

"As in going on a date?" You nodded with a smile. "I'd love that."

König knew you were close to your destination, so he pulled out his phone and gave it to you. "Can I get your number to discuss the details?" he asked.

Without answering, you took the device and typed your number along with your name before giving it back to him. "Give me a call or send me a text."

He looked at the new contact and couldn't hold back a smile. "I like your name."

"Speaking of names, you never told me yours," you noted with a pout.

"It's König."

"That's all? Hmm... mysterious. I like it."

The rest of the trip passed in silence, mostly because you wanted to avoid spoilers. We'll have time to talk on our date, you said. He was okay with that. But when he stopped in front of the building where you were heading, his heart sank. He didn't want to say goodbye yet, but there was nothing he could do.

Before he could register what was happening, you stood on your toes and gently pulled down his head to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thanks for showing me the way," you whispered to him.

"Anytime," König told you.

[captainmera]

Mx.mera!! (No pressure take all the time you need ) when is the next tgb chapter ?? :3

It's on indefinite hold atm, dont expect updates anytime soon. I'm juggling a lot atm.

(None of this is directed at you personally. This is just my general state on working on TGB and why it is standing stale. If you're curious why it's not updating)

TGB was always meant to just be a fun side thing I did as a writing exercise. It helped me identify a lot of my writing flaws and hiccups, and also my writing style. Which has been very enlightening.

There's a lot with TGB I need to go back and edit, so I need to re-read my own work (which I've been informed is the length of two LOTR books?? Sweet jesus, I need to cut it down) before I get back to it.

My ideas have become much longer and drawn out than I wanted, the pacing is very slow (which is fine, but I wanna get to the fun parts.) Which is another problem I've identified. I'm writing book form, chapter by chapter, rather than the episodes I'm seeing in my head. And it's frustrating.

Because I see it as episodes, but write them out, the chapters get really long. And I spend a lot of time being anxious about that.

Drawing comics is easier because I don't have to describe feelings or environments. I can just show it right away.

And no, I'm not gonna draw TGB as a comic. That's too much. I tried drawing future scenes (as comics) I thought of and wanted to envision, but I got people being upset about it being spoilers. So I stopped doing that.

Actually, I got worried about anything I drew of any characters being spoilery because I'd get asks or comments about it being for TGB. I usually just delete comments or asks like that, so I don't have to see it, but reading so much of it builds up in my head, yknow?

I also got a few people (might've been just one person. They were on anon) that wouldn't stop berating me about Willow and Hunter's body types. And some people got REALLY weird and insinuated that drawing them hugging and kissing was sexual. And some people try to trick me into drawing fetish things (feederism being one).

So, in all honesty? I liked writing TGB, with all the flaws it has or not. I loved drawing Huntlow and the hexsquad; until people got 1) weird about it. 2) pushy about continuing it. 3) upset it wasn't writing fast enough or I didn't draw x, y, z.

It honestly has robbed me of all the fun to post fanart.

Which is a shame because I still like the characters a lot.

I know that if I update a chapter, I'll get a revival of people spamming me these things again, and I'm not mentally or emotionally strong r/n for any of that.

So.... I'm doing witteclaw. Because nobody is pressuring me to do anything. Not to update, not to draw x,y,z. People are just happy with whatever I put out in whatever pace I put it out in. I get to talk with people about theories about the show and discuss writing in a fun, mature, way.

I also just really like witteclaw in general. But I don't like ut more than the hex kids. There's just less demand and pressure.

Which makes hanging out in the fandom still fun.

Don't get me wrong. I love sweet huntlow, I love the noceda trio, the galactic duo are still my best boys (i miss drawing gus and hunter), and the emerald trio is my blorbos (I got so many pins and keychains u guys lol) and I love the hexsquad the most, I love soft lumity, I wanna draw more grunge Vee, Camila is best mum.

The owl house is SO much fun.

But the fandom is kind of demanding. And maybe that's my fault for having open requests. But I don't regret that, I do enjoy art requests.

But people got less polite and more demanding, and some got angry(?), and some use lingo that I understand is meant to be funny but comes across as incredibly entitled and mean spirited. Some also don't seem to understand I'm a person, and that all art takes time. I had a person once get upset that I didn't out enough effort into their request as I had into another. Which... girl, you're not paying me, sit down.

It got pretty uncomfortable. It stole the fun out of drawing similar things for people who asked nicely and enthusiastically. I also realised a lot of these people read TGB, since requests were often about that.

It wouldn't always be art requests. It would just be a straight-up request to write the next chapter already.

TGB was fun, until the pressure to prioritise it became the majority from people who followed me. and people wrote things like:

Tbf that's the only one who dared to be that public about it. But I get asks like this at least once a week, and I turned off DMs because it happened every second to third day.

It's like.... not very nice or cool, yknow? :,(

it genuinely has made me feel really sad about working on my passion project IBWR too. Because people kept making it pretty clear they were annoyed I spent time on something else than what they were following me for.

It's like, whatever I guess, but it still hurts.

TD;LR

No, no tgb anytime soon. A few people killed the party, and I need time to like it again how I used to. Without the enjoyment of creating and writing, and enjoying the process, bring robbed from me.

Thanks.

Maybe I just need thicker skin I dont know. I'm trying to find a good balance with it. People are allowed to like/dislike my work and comment on it. I don't mind critique. It's just not really been critique at all? It's just demands and that hits different on the heart.

[wosoluver]

To undo a mistake

Part 4/17 - previous - next

Lena x Bayern player!reader, Ana Guzmán x Bayern player!reader

Lena Oberdorf Masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

That therapy session was... something. To say the least. Your eyes puffy once again.

We didn't talk much. I practically just dumped all my problems to her. But it felt good to get everything out, to someone who wouldn't judge you but also wasn't allowed to give too much of her opinion.

When you walked out, Ana wasn't there yet. So you just decided to sit and wait.

It took her around 10 minutes to show up.

"Hey. Have I made you wait for too long?"

"No, not at all. So do you want to go get some coffee? I'm out of practice today and you probably don't have many friends here yet."

"Your the one that looks like you could use a friend. Let's go. You drive, I don't have my license yet."

"First of all, ouch. Second of all, let's go. You'll be my passenger princess." - You said it excited.

Lena never really let you drive, you were always the passenger princess.

And you quickly tried to wisk the memory away.

You were both in comfortable silence in the car. Only the sound of Ana's music playing in the back. And yes you were forced to give her the rights to dj. Passenger princess' rule number 1.

You stop at your favorite place. It was never too crowded, which you were thankful for.

"I'll go order, what do you want?"

"Whatever your having, is fine."

After ordering and getting your coffees you go sit on a quiet corner.

"So, how are you adapting to Germany?"

"Oof- it's so fucking cold here. Not even in the coldest winters we get this temperature in Colombia."

"You'll get used to it after some time. A few jackets and coats and you're good."

"And you? Had a nice time in therapy?"

"Oh yeah. So much fun!" - you answered equally as ironic.

"I can tell by your puffy eyes.

I think today was my first time not crying in there."

"Must be hard. I've never had a bad injury. But it seems like the worse. Lena went through-" - you cut yourself off before you could say anything else. Your face dropped. Here you were again. Everything you think of, brought up Lena, one way or another.

"And Lena is-"

"My ex. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking when I said that."

"It's fine. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." - but then you proceeded to dump everything that had happened into the conversation. - "It's just, my head is still trying to wrap around everything. She already has a new girlfriend. And I'm still dealing with my feelings.

She broke up with me, over the phone can you believe that? I never felt so meaningless, so betrayed. Our five month relationship thrown into the trash. All of that, because Munich is too far from Wolfsburg for her taste."

"Wow, you had a lot to say for someone that didn't want to talk about it." - she said that hoping it would easy the anxious face you had going on. - "It's okay. Time works differently for different people. You have the right to mourn your relationship.

Is that what has been driving you down?"

"Yeah, I just wasn't ready to see her. I'm still in love with her. I mean was. After what happened Saturday, I think it might be time to except it's over."

"You still had feelings for her? Even after what she did?"

"Yeah. I guess I was just hopeful. I felt like in some way things weren't over yet. I just- It just didn't make sense. Lena is not that type of person. She would never do that."

"But she did. Look, if she meant to hurt you or not, you'll probably never know. Unless you talk to her."

"I am not going to talk to her."

"Then you'll have to settle for the unknown."

"I think I will. Can we talk about your feelings now? I've humiliated my self enough."

"Fine. You were right when you said I needed friends." - she let out a deep breath. - "When I first got injured. I was very hard on myself. Specially after hearing the diagnosis and that I'd have to go under surgery. I stressed my self over when I shouldn't have.

I pushed everyone away.

The hardest thing, when we are hurting, is to remember others are most likely going through something too."

"But that's kind of natural I guess. To be so into your own head you forget about others. It's just- there is such a thin line between being compassionate towards people and putting their needs and feelings before yours. To be honest I've never been good at navigating though it either."

"Yeah, I've been getting better about it I think. Therapy has helped me understand a lot of things. The most important of them, I think it was acceptance.

I feel so much better since I accepted that I have no control over this type of things. I couldn't change it even if I wanted to. I just have to go through it. And soon enough I'll be back playing once again."

"It's good to know your coming out better from this one. Sometimes things happen for a reason, and sometimes it's for the better"

"It's getting late, we should get going."

"Yeah. I'll give you a ride home."

For the rest of the day all you could think about was what you two had talked about.

Maybe you could use some acceptance yourself. Of how things were, and not what you think they should be.

And stop worrying so much about what you had no control over.

That's how it works when you live right? Life happens.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Have you guys been wondering what's been like for Lena? Well next chapter is Lena's pov!

It's still an Obi fic I swear.

I think from this chapter on, it's finally going to be good writing. I wasn't liking how things the previous parts came out.

[bornagainmurdock]

star of the show

author's note: support your local drag scene! i'm going to a drag show tonight and i'm very excited to take a break from uni and writing papers and reading theory

summary: you take matt to his first drag show, suggestive but no sex, matt murdock x reader, gender neutral reader, discussions of alcohol, showering together

work count: 1.5k

Matt had lived in NYC his entire life and didn't know any different. He couldn't imagine a non-walkable city, pizza shops on every corner, and not hearing an ambulance siren every second of the day. Despite his intense senses, he was very good at tunning out the soundscape that is the city.

But there was one thing Matt had never done in New York. Matt had never been to a drag show.

Sure, he was familiar with the bar culture. Hell, he'd been to a few gay bars back in the day. But never to see a drag show.

He was convinced the vibe wouldn't be right for him. He was also concered about the sheer amount of sensory input: the stinging song of the lights, the bass shaking the floor, the loud music, the warmth of alcohol throughout the venue.

But, when you offered to take him to his first show he couldn't have said yes faster. He was excited. The show was over a week away, but you wanted to give him enough time to process the situation and prepare himself for it. Matt was also very anxious. he asked you lots of details about the venue and how to get there. He asked about the type of crowd that they typically pull. Matt asked you every question he could come up with throughout the week.

You knew that when he was sensory overwhelmed it could be a recipe for disaster, sending Matt into a series of panic attacks or worse, give him flashbacks.

When the day came, Matt was bouncing around the apartment. He convinced Foggy to let him leave the office early so he could prepare. He had to find something to wear, something cool enough to not be out of place but comfortable enough so that didn't contribute to his overwhelm-ness.

When you got off of work and made it back to the apartment, you walked in to see clothes scattered all over the house. Matt was in the closet throwing things behind him, trying to piece something together.

"Are you looking for something or just creating an elaborate tripping hazard for yourself?"

"I don't know what to wear. I can't wear my usual suit because that will be too formal. But I can't wear gym clothes, beacuse obviously. I guess I'm realizing I got rid of all my manwhore clothes from college when Fog and I would go barhopping." He stopped digging for a second to turn your direction.

"Do you want some help?"

"I'd love some."

You walked through the house looking at the options before deciding to sort through what was left of the closet instead.

"Okay Matt, how about just some jeans. Any jeans. These are black normal straight leg jeans."

"Okay. Okay. But What do I wear on top?"

"How do you feel about this shirt." You passed it behind you into his hands. He passed it between his fingers to feel all of the textures.

"Is this mesh? ARE YOU TRYING TO GET ME TO WEAR SOMETHING SEE-THROUGH?"

"Yes, it's mesh. It's a sheer black short sleeve button up that I bought for you and then I guess forgot to gift to you."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"I do. Now put it on."

Matt was hesitant but trusted you to make him look good. You helped him button the front while his hands ran over his body, feeling the texture on his skin.

"Oh this is nice."

"I told you. Now let me get ready."

You put in headphones while Matt finished getting ready. You changed outfits rather quickly, already having an idea of what you wanted to wear tonight.

While in thebathroom using the mirror to fix your hair, Matt walked in and settled behind you, snaking his hands around your hips.

"I bet you look so good right now," Matt started kissing the back of your neck, biting every so ofter, "What're you wearing?"

"Find out for yourself."

His hands caressed your whole body, stopping at the chain around your neck. He pulled on it to tilt you head down for more access to the side of your neck.

"Keep it in your pants Murdock. We have to leave soon."

You packed your bag and made sure Matt had anything he could need tonight while you were out: specifically nausea meds because you knew he would drink until he was sick if given the chance.

"Let's go!!"

It was a short walk to the venue. Matt was giggly the whole walk, purposely tapping you with his cane when you got too far ahead of him.

At the door, Matt folds in his cane and tucks it into his back pocket for now. You paid the cover and got your two mandatory drink tickets and helped Matt up the front steps before finding yourself at the end of the bar.

"Drinks?" Matt was excited to get this night started.

He ordered for both of you. Himself, a negroni, and you, a vodka cran. You grabbed both and searched for a table, finding a tall one with two chairs to sit out.

"So the show starts in 20 minutes. How do you feel?"

Matt took a huge sip and smiled, "Buzzed. There's too many bodies walking around. Will you tell me what's happening."

"Yah. Okay, so the rooms almost full. I'm sure you can tell that. We must have got the last table or maybe whoever was here saw the poor sad blind man and moved for us," Matt laughed along with you, "But some of the performers are walking through the crowd. The DJ is finishing getting set up. I'm sure you can tell by the music. Oh, and also the hosts just sat down."

You were interupted by an annoucement over the loud speakers about the show starting soon. Matt reached for your hands and squeezed hard when he found them.

When the show started Matt had very quickly become the center of attention, with many performers coming up to him to flirt. One of the queen under her breath asked to take Matt's glasses off for a bit, and after he said yes, she took them, put them on, and danced around for the rest of the song before returning them to the table with a wink.

At the start of each number you explained their outfit and makeup and any props they had on stage to Matt. He swayed and sung along the whole night, cheering when performers did big stunts and offering his commentary about audio mixing to you between numbers.

"Okay and this one is wearing a yellow wig, and it's curly and big, like a southern grandma. And she has on big black stomping boots with lots of buckles. She's in a latex dress, skin tight and barely covering anything. She's covered in chains and spikey metal accessories. Her nails are loooong stilletos and they're shiny black with crystals. And her makeup is also all black and super glossy."

"Do you think I'd look good in that dress?"

"You're drunk."

"Perhaps, but I could use another." And so he did.

At the end, every performer joined the crowd for a dance party, many of the flocking to Matt to flirt with him some more, and he ate it up. He was singing and dancing along the crowd, laughing with the emcees and taking shots with the queens.

A drag queen was holding Matt's hand and spinning him around, bumping into the rest of the crowd and spilling the drink in his hand. He was buzzed and happy.

At last call Matt grabbed his final drink and finally sat back down to relax.

"So how would you say your first drag show is going?" He didn't respond, just giggling and blowing you a kiss.

They finally kicked you both out, tipsy and stumbling down the street, Matt was still singing and humming with excitement. When you finally reached the apartment, he collapsed on the couch with a sigh.

"After all this time living in NYC, I cannot believe I haven't been to a drag show yet. I feel like I've been missing this my entire life." Emotionally drunk Matt wasn't typical, here he was in tears over how exciting the night was. "It was so magical."

"I don't think you've drank this much in so long."

"We should do it more often." His senses were blasted, unable to navigate the apartment as good as he normally did.

"Absolutely not. Shower time Matthew."

He hummed in affirmation adn stripped right there in the living room. Butt-ass-naked and still wiggling around like the club music was still blasting.

When you wrangled him into the shower, you stripped as well joining him in the warm water.

"Do you think we can go back next week again? One of the queens asked when she'd see me again."

"Were you flirting with them?"

"I'm not really sure." He chuckled, alcohol seeping out of his skin, slowly sobering up in the water.

"I'm not letting you get this drunk next time."

"Try and stop me."

"Oh I will." You tickled him for a second before clinging onto his torso, kissing his chest. "Alright, bedtime."

You turned off the water and stepped out handing Matt his towel.

"Okay but we can go back next week, right?"

"Of course Matt."

[love-toxin]

ellie i NEED to know your thoughts on halsin from bg3 like! i don't even go here, i haven't played it yet, but god damn 👀 i'd say i want to know him biblically but there's nothing holy about what's going to happen when i finally get the game and find his ass. alexa, play slut him out by baby tate

PFSHEBEUDDNNEEJ BABE WE R IN SYNC........tbh I've been workin on a halsin fic that one of my besties suggested but i keep getting so many ideas for it i haven't finished any of them LOL but u are so right.....it is a marathon to grasp the bear's heart but once u do its OVER for us hoes......

(cws: halsin sexy scenes spoilers, m on gn oral, size kink but make it a lil spicy)

Actually I'm glad you asked bc one thing I can't get off my mind is how he goes down on you so hard, like.....he's canonically packing and I can't think of anything but that Halsin's the type to eat you out every time because he's a horndog, but also because he doesn't want to hurt you and he wants to make sure you can take him 👉👈 he strikes me as the kind of guy to make time for it even if you're just sneaking away for a quickie or something like that, and while it seems like it's a (albeit very hot) cautionary measure, you very quickly find out that he's just in love with listening to you gasp, feeling your hands in his hair, your thighs squeezing round his head, and that the taste of you is like an addiction he can't just shake off. Besides, the first time he does it while you're standing over him, and the idea of him using his size to his advantage to just sit your whole weight on his face.........prrrrr. He can prop your back up against a tree and nuzzle his nose right up against your sweet spot, and when your toes frantically scrape the ground trying to lift some of your weight off, Halsin just grabs each thigh and raises you a little higher so you can't reach--you just sink further down on his tongue, exactly where he wants you to be. The only way you can move is to hump his face when you're just trying to shift your hips, but at the mercy of his strength keeping you off the ground everything you do just turns both of you on more. If he had a moment to speak he'd reassure you there's nothing to worry about, that he's not going to break his neck and there's no way you could hurt him.....but that would involve him stopping before he's finished his meal, and he can't help being ravenous around you.

Although to be honest, even though Halsin genuinely doesn't want to hurt you and loves the act of preparation, I don't think he'd necessarily be opposed to it. There might be a point where there's just nothing more you can do; you might be a virgin, or inexperienced, or just too tight that he knows it's going to hurt at least a little bit when he slides in. Not that he'd want to break you, and in fact I think he would dial up the gentleness and reassurances by 100% if you were truly anxious over it. But there's part of him that likes knowing he's making his mark on you. It turns him on when you look up at him knowing you're going to be left walking with a limp, and yet encourage him to make it a noticeable one as you wiggle down on his lap with fervor in your eyes. He's a druid, he knows how to heal, so he can smooth over those small injuries with relative ease if they do pose a problem--but how hot would it be to watch you struggle to take him, your breathing hot and laboured yet determined as you pull him closer? The clawing down his back as you whine about him stretching you out, making it burn, but you won't let him pull out more than an inch? How you hiss and grunt each time that protruding, prominent vein down his shaft catches when he thrusts back in, only to clench down on it hard when he warns you he's about to cum? Halsin doesn't mind you having a quiet vendetta against his cock for ruining you, especially not since you'll let his tongue make it up for all that abuse on your poor, soft holes. The tears and your smeared makeup will make way for kisses soon enough, and he'll wash you clean in the cold river until the water runs clear, and you'll be working from a fresh slate. And he can do it alllllll over again, again, again, until either one of you taps out--or you have to pause your adventure for a day or two of bed rest, of course.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Just a lil update for Complicated ;)

Part 1.5 ❤️

Warnings; Angst, little sprinkling of fluff. Eddie is kind of a dick, confusing feelings.

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work.

Vote on part one for who you want this story to be about. Eddie or Steve? 👀

❤️

Things were a little awkward after Eddie walked in on you and Steve. He was quieter than normal, lost in thought.

"I just never thought you would be Steve's type you know, like at all" Eddie shrugs as he smokes a blunt, the two of you are hanging out before you go to Family Video to pick a movie for the week.

You freeze. The comment feels like a slap across the face, not Steve's type... Did he think you were ugly or something? Was that what he was implying?

"What do you mean? You think I'm not pretty enough for Steve Harrington?" Eddie's eyes widen and he nearly drops the blunt, swearing when it burns his fingers.

"What? No! I mean... Shit, I just mean that he's still into Nancy and she's all uh preppy, kinda popular and shit...I'm not explaining myself well huh?"

"You think?" you mutter, still hurt and try to focus on the movie but you can feel the tears building up in your eyes.

"You're pretty, of course you're pretty sweetheart, of course Steve would like you but come on! I like the guy a lot but could you be anymore generic with picking the popular, pretty boy?"

Okay, now you're pissed.

"Excuse me! You're dating Chrissy, yes she's sweet and all but she was the queen of Hawkins High and you call me generic. Really Eddie?" he blushes and begins to munch some popcorn.

"Look, I'm just saying. I just thought you'd go for like Gareth or somebody like that" you shake your head and grab your coat.

No, I have to be in love with you which fucking sucks because I'm never ever going to be noticed by you.

"We better pick a movie before the store closes, come on" You need some air before you really lose it at Eddie.

💕

Eddie is mumbling apologies as he follows you into the store but you are to be busy feeling nervous at seeing Steve.

You haven't seen him since the morning you two woke up together and you're anxious to get this meeting over with.

Robin looks between you and Steve and grins.

"Steve! look who's here?" Steve meets your gaze and you give him a little wave and Eddie goes to pick the movie.

"Hi" you say and try to sound as casual as possible. Memories from the night flit through your mind and it's hard not to show how flustered you feel.

"Hey honey, sorry I haven't seen you in a little while. Works been crazy and just a lot of shit going on" He's blushing and it's adorable.

"Steve, we're adults, we had a really hot night together and we shouldn't be embarrassed by it. Like I said, I really enjoyed myself"

He relaxes.

"Me too. You okay? it's just you looked pretty tense when you came in" shrugging you attempt to downplay it, even though you're still hurting.

"Eddie said he didn't think I'd be your type. It kinda stung a little bit" he frowns and gently touches your arm.

The minute he makes contact with your arm, his thumb brushing over your skin, it feels like you're on fire, tingles erupt all over your body.

"That's a lot of shit. You're beautiful honey"

Fuck. Steve's gaze meets yours and there's such an intensity to it. Every part of you aches to close the distance between you both.

Suddenly, there's a slam on the table as Eddie places down the vhs tapes. His eyes are stormy, a scowl on his face.

"Are you two going to sit looking gaga over each other all night or can we get these to go?" Steve blinks stunned and his soft expression hardens.

"What the fuck is your problem Munson?" he asks Eddie, tone simmering with annoyance.

"Nothing, don't have a problem Harrington" he snaps and Robin takes over the exchange her eyes wide as she looks at Eddie to Steve.

"Enough! I'm fed up of your shit tonight Eddie. Go have a movie night alone until you stop being a dick" You tell him and he scoffs.

"Fine, I'll just ask Chrissy - you know, my girlfriend over instead" the ice in his tone confuses you and you feel the tears come again but will them away.

He's not going to see you cry. The jackass.

"Don't talk to her like that" Steve growls but Eddie leaves without replying, slamming the door on his way out.

💕💕

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as their natal charts: woozi

sun in sagittarius, moon in aries

he loves a good challenge, his straightforward and self-assured personality can make him come off as arrogant but he's not like that; this man won't accept anything but the truth, he's fearless and very generous to people he loves, enjoys solitude just as much as he loves big crowds (but not being the center of attention there)

'looks like it's gonna be hard,' you mutter, staring at bunch of documents in front of you. 'do you think you can-'

'i know i can,' jihoon interrupts, not even bothering to look up.

you nod. jihoon's curt answer may have irritated other people, but not you. after working together for almost half a year, you realized that these kind of replies from him are simple statements of facts, not just arrogant atempts of showing off. still, you ask: 'need any help?'

jihoon blinks, finally looking up from his laptop. no one really sticks around with him, always uncomfortable with his silence or too straightforward manners, so your question surprises him. you, in general, surprise him in many ways and part of him desperately wants to reach out, because he may or may not have written dozen songs about your eyes and how your smile makes his day better. 'um,' he lets out eloquently. 'only if you're okay with helping.'

you nod and he breathes out in relief, shutting his laptop. work is easier with you, huge pile of documents gets sorted out much faster with two pair of hands and jihoon nods in satisfaction as you finish the last one. 'thank you,' he says sincerely. you smile and your smile makes him feel... things. makes him want to get upclose and personal with this smile, maybe even be the reason behind it. he's not dumb, he knows there might not be any other chance, so he barrels on: 'do you have plans for tonight?'

jihoon is certainly not the one to beat around the bush, but you're still surprised, looking up at him. 'you're asking because..?'

'i heard new thai place opened around here, thought it'd be good to try it out,' he meets your gaze, looking serious and confident. 'i'd like to treat you, if you're free.' and then, because if he started he has to go until the end, giving all in, he adds to clear things up: 'it's a date.'

silence that stretches makes him nervous, but when smile blossoms on your face and your cheeks color just a tiny bit, he thinks that risks always are worth taking in the end. smile stretches his own lips and he mirrors your excitement: 'i'll take that smile for a 'yes' then?'

he doesn't tell you that he heard you talking about really wanting to try out that place and nor does he tell you that he already went there and tried out bunch of dishes, just so he would know what to order when he'll finally get the courage to ask you out. you nod at him and something else twirls inside of his chest, warming it up. something akin to hope, that he thinks will turn out just great.

in relationship he can sometimes be insensitive and have a temper, but willl ultimately be the most protective partner ever! he longs for domesticity and is very much 'i don't see anyone but you' type when he's in love, he needs someone who's good at avoiding conflicts and can sometimes push him to change

'jihoon, that was too rude,' you say, closing the door with a loud sigh.

'he had his hands all over you,' jihoon huffs, shaking his coat off angrily. he doesn't get jealous easily and rarely has problems with other people, but his protective instincts flare up whenever someone gets too familiar with you. 'and you looked anxious, you know i can't just stay still at times like that.'

'i thought you didn't see,' you mumble quietly enough but of course jihoon catches it.

he grabs your hand, pulling you closer to him. 'i'm always looking at you,' he says seriously, not understanding how your heart flutters at those words. 'babe, i- i'm looking only at you. even when we are surrounded by other people, my eyes are always on you.'

and it's the truth. he keeps his eyes on you not in some creepy way, but just looking at you grounds him, he checks on you cause need to make sure you're fine is exactly what it is - a need. you smile at him, but still don't let go of the situation, telling him that he took everything too far. jihoon nods, knows that you're right, but he also knows that you won't ever nag him about it. this is the best thing about you, how you let something not critical go, knowing him too well. 'that was probably too rude, okay. you know i won't go and apologize to him, he did make you uncomfortable and i won't stand for that, ever.'

you sigh fondly, reaching out to caress his cheek softly. 'i know,' you say. 'my protector.' you didn't say it in a mocking way and jihoon knows it. he really is your protector in the sweetest and purest way; someone who you always wanted and never thought you'd have.

'i'll always protect you,' he says matter-or-factly with no traces of joke in his voice. but then his face changes as he shyly suggests: 'let's drink some tea?'

you almost laugh at this, but hold back. nodding, you lean in, smiling when he pecks your lips and both of your cheeks lovingly. never have you ever thought that jihoon will be like this, this protective and this caring at the same time. 'let's,' you agree easily.

you drop the conflict before it could grow big, because it's not worth it. nothing is really worth it at the face of jihoon's wide smile as he understands that the subject is dropped and that you're not angry at him anymore. sometimes words are not needed and silent understanding that passes between you two is more important. he hugs you tight and that's all that's needed as you both settle into comfortable domesticity, the one you both protect fiercely and put above everything else.

a/n: a bit surprising for jihoon i think, but i love his chart so much!!

my masterlist is here

taglist @prpldahy

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock, what DO you love and like so much about Dostoevsky's work? I don't think you've ever talked about that. Please, I want to know !!!

^o^

(christianity mention jump scare below proceed with caution)

i thought this would be an easy to answer but figuring out how to put my feelings into words proved difficult .

the beginning is always a good place to start, so let's go with that. by chance, i happened upon this video on youtube and gave it a watch. about halfway in i decided i had to read notes from underground for myself. i struggled to understand what the narrator was trying to get across. the unique writing style, where the reader is addressed directly, as if in challenge, helped me preserve.

i think part of what makes his work special to me is his depiction of people. and they really do feel like people more than characters, even if some of their characteristics are unique to the era dostoevsky wrote in. everything else about them transcends time. i can see myself in some of them. whether it be the titular idiot, prince myshkin in his naivety; alyosha, who goes from devout to doubting; and ivan, whose bitterness toward religion masks his disappointment at the state of the world. 

that's why the brothers karamazov touched me in particular. for some context, i grew up in a christian household and was heavily involved in the church (american northeast white baptist strand of church). around when i was 11 or so, the introduction of left-wing politics through social media had me undergo a looooong identity crisis. these new ideas felt at odds with what i'd spent my entire life believing. what i grappled with the most relates to ivan's anecdote, the grand inquisitor, where the goodness of god is called into question. the bitterness, the disappointment from crushed expectations, all those sensations resonated strongly with me. reading it as an adult who (supposedly) 'healed' from that time period in my life was like opening pandora's box. i'd never seen my thoughts and struggles so accurately described, or treated with more than a 'his ways are higher than our ways' type platitude. i stuffed these concerns of mine away because they only ever served to make me feel worse.

i won't delve deep into the Depressing Lore. the only reason i mention it is to stress how profound an impact the work had on me. throughout the remainder of TBK (and in most of dostoevsky's discography), the best and worst of humanity is shown. our hypocritical nature, capacity for evil; nothing is shied away from or made more palatable. and yet, throughout it all, our potential for good is shown too. whether it be in the little acts or monumental self-sacrifice. sometimes those acts are honored, or ‘worth it,’ sometimes they aren’t. it’s cheesy but whatever i’ll say it — choosing to love and serve others is my greatest joy. i don’t really need a definitive answer to those problems i struggled with. that’s the takeaway i’ve had from his work. it might not seem like a big deal, but not feeling guilty for having certain doubts or anxious over those doubts never fully being resolved was. very significant for me. and healing (for real this time). 

so that’s the sentimental perspective GJSDLKFJS from my writer’s perspective, i can only describe him as brilliant. his grasp on the human psyche is incredible. he can accurately describe so many emotions, worldviews, and give the context necessary for each one to feel organic and real. it’s vivid, too, in a way i can’t properly get across. everyone’s unfiltered and messy. characters contradict themselves in the same sentence. they’ll murmur, go off on tangents, tell stories, misquote the bible (or many other significant works), and just be overall disasters. aka how people actually are. 

the man’s also funny as hell. the protagonist from crime and punishment has a mental breakdown spanning multiple pages over a sock. yes, there’s context, but that’s still the gist of things. then there’s the issue of the hedgehog in the idiot. hedgehog drama. 

ultimately, his work is so very human. there’s commentary on issues that are prevalent to this day, multiple centuries later. the topics he touches on tend to align with what i care about most. whether i agree or disagree with what i’m reading, there’s always something i glean from it. something meaningful that sits with me long after i close the book. i’ll mull over it and bother people in my vicinity until they mull over it too. no one is safe. whether it be a co-worker or my dad who drives noticeably faster to reach our destination and be free of my many questions.

i could keep going but this ended up being long enough GJSKDF i hope at least something here makes sense?>?? i apologize for the incoherent ramblings. it's what the dude does to me.

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): The Composer [28]

My favorite analogy to use in times of uncertainty comes from my dad. He once told me, "We're just two little frogs on a lone lily pad, floating down some hidden bayou in the swamps of New Orleans, Ducks. And that's okay, because at least we have each other."

It stuck with me throughout most of my life. When the depression was really rough, when the anxiety hit its peak, I'd scribble that line in notebooks. In pencil on my walls, erase the words when I felt whole again. Etch it onto my arm in pen, then scrub away at my skin for hours in the shower that same night.

For that reason, I feel like we can attach ourselves not only to people, but to words too. Which is why I find myself debating going and writing those words again and again and again in the emptiness of my apartment.

The week leading up to Ash's departure to Anaheim flew by. She and I unpacked, organized, and lazed about our home without seeing Sal, Larry, Todd, or Neil all that much.

That was fine, she and I preferred to figure things out on our own anyway.

The issue came with the moment Ash left in the early morning on Friday, after we'd had Sal and Larry over the night before.

I was left to my own devices, which meant all I could do was think about how much I've been drowning in myself. For months.

What's weighed on me most is Sal. I was never supposed to like him— it was never supposed to be more than simple attraction. I feel like I've failed myself and dragged Sal into something he wants nothing to do with. Feeling this way seems so cruel. He's his own person, he has his own shit to deal with. Why did I let it get this far?

For the entire day, I've sat here and told myself— scolded myself— that I need to calm things down and I need to get over this. Not just for me, but for him. Situationships, friends with benefits... those types of things do not end in relationships. They don't turn into happily ever afters. Me and Sal are nothing alike— I wouldn't even dare consider a relationship but if my feelings go far enough, I just might start to.

There needs to be some separation for myself. I need to put some distance, but I just don't want to. I genuinely like being around him.

Oh, this is such a clusterfuck.

I lay on me and Ash's couch, staring out of the huge windows that lead to the balcony as the sun goes down. It's evening. The silence is loud around me, messes with my senses. I keep thinking I see things out of the corner of my eye and every creak or crack of people moving around above or below me sets my heart racing.

Ash informed me that she'd be back by tomorrow morning, which is fine. I streamed for a few hours, ate dinner, then did some shopping to snuff out my Sal-centered thoughts, and then the unsettling quiet. I just didn't realize how anxious I'd get about being here alone once the moon took the sun's place in the sky. 

It's not my first time being alone. When I lived with dad, I was alone most of the time. But this apartment is still unfamiliar to me. Being in a new place that doesn't quite feel like a home yet is perturbing. 

The sky grows a little too dark for my liking, so I grab the remote and turn on the TV, flinching when the volume startles me. Anything to suffocate the silence that lurks around the dark corners of this room though.

I glance over my shoulder, making eye contact with the dark hallway that looks back at me. Shadows dance around the edges of the vignette, mocking my fear. I'm worried that if I watch for too long, I may really see something staring back.

And I thought my tiny, barely there feelings for Sal were scary. All that needs to be done to reset my mind is put me in an empty room, I guess.

Turning my gaze back to the TV, I try to focus on The Crow. All the gothic notes and emotional aspects try to distract me... but I quickly learn that even my favorite movie and Brandon Lee's ethereal beauty can't steal me from reality.

I'm restless. I can't stay here a moment longer.

Sighing, I sit up and gaze at the hardwood floor. Dad's not home-- I could go back to my old apartment, but that's a fifteen minute drive. That's a last resort. I would go to Todd and Neil's, but they're over in San Francisco to watch Todd's favorite musical. 

That leaves me with Larry. 

Can I bear to be in Sal's presence with all the turmoil in my head? I don't know, but I can't figure it out until I try. Not to mention, knowing him, he'll be locked up in his room anyway.

Me and Sal's conversation last week made me feel a bit more secure. I know things can continue the way they have been and I don't have to worry about anything else, I just have to work on getting past exactly how much I feel now. The fact that we had to had to have that conversation at all is embarrassing-- even if he told me that it was okay. It feels so stupid to me now that it's all over. It feels even more ridiculous that I apparently haven't learned a thing and still want to put distance between us.

I stand up and grab my keys from the kitchen counter before shutting off the TV. Then, I'm out the front door like a bat out of hell. The quiet was overpowering me-- having such a big place is so eerie when it's just me.

In my diluted panic, I make it to Sal and Larry's apartment in record time-- hoping and praying that they'll let me stay.

I pick up my pace once I reach their floor, bounding up to the door and knocking. Each corner feels like it's leering, hiding evil that lurks everywhere I go. It's unbearable and I just can't be alone.

That, or maybe some depraved part of me just wants to Sal.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I tap my foot against the carpeted floor and try to pretend that I've got it together. I do anything to get rid of the adrenaline rushing through me. Readjust my mask, pick at invisible lint on my shirt, crack all of my fingers, look up and down both sides of the hallway stretching around me. It feels like I wait for hours even though it's merely seconds until the door opens.

My eyes snap upward, gazing into the eyeholes of Sal's prosthetic. He holds it against his face with a hand, the straps dangling at the sides. It's clear I've caught him off guard.

"Vi?" He asks, tone suggesting he's both confused and alert by my sudden presence. I watch him glance down the hallway the same way I just did. 

When he looks back at me, he has an eyebrow raised inquisitively. 

"Uh," I choke out, remembering that I kind of have to tell him why I'm here. "Is Larry here? I wanted to hang out. The, um, silence is... loud." I rush to explain myself, knowing full well that I don't have to explain myself to anyone.

But Sal looks like he gets it though, his gaze softening in understanding as the words leave me. 

"Larry isn't here," He tells me forthright. My heart drops at the news. "He went to Anaheim with Ash. Didn't she tell you?"

I hum bashfully, embarrassed at myself and the circumstances as I shake my head.

"Sorry for bothering," I say with a sigh, trying to hype myself up to brave the quietude and darkness.

A beat of tense silence passes between us as I build up the mental strength, already feeling like I'm rotting in the lonely apartment back upstairs. 

Then, Sal mutters, "You can stay if you want, so long as you don't mind me practicing. And don't make me regret inviting you in."

I watch him watch me, both of us hesitant and unsure. But what's more unbearable than being around him (which hasn't been all too bad lately) is being alone.

I clear my throat lightly then look down at my feet, nodding. "Okay, thanks."

I may come to regret this.

Sal leads me into the apartment, his slightly taller figure blurring as I take in the living room and kitchen I helped unpack just a week ago now. To replace all the boxes and uncertainty is a kind of clean organization that I just know Larry had nothing to do with.

Sal spruced up. It's orderly, uncluttered, and so him. It works because Larry isn't much different.

The climbing living room walls have various band, tour, and festival posters, records, guitars, a bass, signed drum covers. It's a metal-head's dream. There's just a little touch that screams 'this-is-the-house-of-a-streamer,' which happens to be the multi-colored LED's on the ceiling. But I'll give them a pass for that one.

Regardless, it's nice. And the kitchen, while not completely decked out, is doctor's office-level pristine.

I purse my lips, feeling a little apprehensive. This might be the first time Sal and I have been in each other's presence without a plan for sex or something related to it. We're just... hanging out. It's weird, but I'm desperate enough to put up with it at this point. 

Sal's out of my way already, settled on one of the black sofa's with his flashy red guitar nestled on his lap and a laptop in front of him. Oh, and the prosthetic is gone.

My eyes train onto his pretty face. With all of this moving, I've hardly been able to see it. As crazy as it is, it's kind of been killing me. This recent revelation of mine has led to this insatiable urge to look at him constantly. I thought it was bad before, when this was all just a meaningless crush, but now...

I swallow past my raging thoughts. I've had enough to think about today.

Following Sal's lead, I plop down onto the adjacent, larger sofa-- right in the middle of it. I stare at the dark television and subtly gaze around the room in search of a remote. I'll be damned if I sit here with him in silence like this. Once again, I would much rather hot box in a car full of Larry's tamale farts.

Sal's head tilts upward in my peripheral so I look at him. He looks at me, his azure eyes surveying me before leaning over to a little table between the sofa's. He grabs a remote, then an Xbox controller and tosses them to me.

"You can play something if you want. Just switch to HDMI 2," he offers, turning his attention back to his guitar, strumming a quiet note. His brows furrow and he bites down on his bottom lip, shakes his head lightly. Those hypnotizing cerulean locks fall past his shoulders and shield his handsome face from me. His hair has grown in the past few months, hanging at least an inch past his shoulder by now--

--and that is not the point of why I'm here.

I murmur a quick thanks and lean over to grab the controllers, switching on the TV and finding my way to Sal and Larry's shared console.

There's a selection of games on here, some I've played, others that are on my TBP list (like TBR, but instead of to-be-read, it's to-be-played).

I hover around the Resident Evil 4 remake. For the past few weeks, I've been telling myself I'm saving up for it. I brought it up to Ash a couple days ago and she gave me a funny look then proceeded to remind me that, with my streaming career, I have around $4,000 in my bank account right now. I don't need to save for once, I can just get it.

Except I panicked and said I have to keep all my money in case of an emergency... so having disposable income is still new to me and I have no idea how to handle it.

I click on the game, biting down the excited grin that tries to build on my face.

I start a new game and nearly crap myself, doing my fangirl job by raving over the updated graphics and Leon's lore-accurate hair color.

For about an hour, Sal and I don't even spare glances at each other. It's nice, chill-- just two... acquaintances... in each other's presence without having to talk to enjoy their company. I play RE4 and he strums away on his guitar. A couple times, I become entranced by the melody he plays. Each time he plays longer, it starts to come together. Around the second time he played more than a couple notes, I realized he was composing. Creating a tune. Whatever you want to call it. 

While a musician myself, I've mostly worked on covers of songs. I've only tried to write my own music a couple times and even then, I realized it was tough work. Watching Sal now-- how long it takes him to come up with all the notes and lengths for just one chord-- I do not envy him, but I do admire him. He's putting a lot of work into it, clicking away on his laptop when he finds something he likes.

Each second of him working on his music steals me away from my game though. I start getting antsy, missing infected people even if they're right in front of me in the game. Hell, I walked Leon into a wall two minutes ago.

I grit my teeth as I navigate through the village, heart beating out of my chest with every corner I turn because a horde of zombies is going to be on me any second now.

I need to be prepared, need to get all of these questions out of my head.

"You're making a song?" I ask Sal, staring at the screen in front of me with my knees pulled up to my chest.

Sal hums in acknowledgment, distracted by whatever he's messing with on the computer. "Yea. Has to do with that Twitter leak." His voice is soft, hoarse. I'm shocked he even answered me with how focused he is.

Ah, yea. That leak. Ash and I didn't hear from Sal or Larry for two days after they rushed out of our apartment. When they finally popped up yesterday to help us with some more unpacking, they briefly mentioned something about 'damage control' and 'whistleblowing bastards.' Don't know how that has anything to do with whistleblowing, but those were Larry's words, of course.

I nod lightly, dragging Leon to a ladder. "I take it you don't want to give me the drama on that leak?" I guess, stealing a glance his way. Damn his pretty hair and equally as pretty face.

As I'm glancing, he shrugs, bright eyes darting across his laptop. The color of his irises is enhanced by the blue light of the screen-- I hate him. "There's not much drama to give," he murmurs, clicking on something. Then, he sits back, his eyes snapping to me. "The leak was the bridge to this song. I've been fixing it up and messing around with it. I had a producer with me a couple weeks ago, he took a picture of my screen. The back of my head was in it and it inevitably got out. What are people supposed to think when this is the title?"

He flips the laptop to me and I lean forward, squinting my eyes to look at the screen. There's a lot of graphing and multicolored lines that look overwhelming as hell-- but I focus in on the bold words at the top of all the mess. "DAC COLLAB."

I pinch my lips together in a guilty smile. "Ah, so that's the mess. That fucking sucks," I tell him as he pulls the laptop back to him.

Tongue in cheek, he tilts his head to the side as if to say 'whatever.' He at least seems unbothered by the whole thing now. "It is what it is. It's going to be released at some point anyway. North was going to make an announcement next month when we'd made a little more progress. Damn asshole at that studio just did the job for us, I guess." He seethes a bit on the last sentence, brows pinching together. 

I hum contemplatively, eyes trailing over his hands as they press into his guitar before I look back at my game. "I wouldn't let it bother you too much. You still get to make the song, still profit from it."

A tiny grin pulls at Sal's lips. "True," he says nonchalantly. 

Silence builds around us, our conversation having fallen off rather than ending. We're still learning. Awkward moments have to come along here and there.

Doesn't stop me from getting killed within the following moments though. I'm so stressed about making things work with him and me... I shouldn't have started the damn game. 

"I'll make you a deal," Sal suddenly pipes up when I get mauled a second time.

Growling frustratedly to myself, I pause the game and turn to him, waiting for him to continue.

He shakes his hair out of his face, letting me see all of him. He sets his elbows on his knees, showing off the veins in his forearms and the map of tattoos that trail up his skin just to disappear beneath the sleeves of his shirt. 

I take a fortifying breath.

"Come listen to this and I'll help you past this part." He juts his chin toward the TV before looking back at me.

I shrug. Why not?

"Okay," I accept his proposal, scooting down the sofa toward where he is. His tattooed fingers type away on the keyboard before he turns the laptop so we can both see the screen.

"My taste is a little harder than what Dark Autumn Complex usually puts out, but I think we're getting somewhere," he tells me and for a moment, I wonder why he's trying to explain the music to me before I've even heard it. Is he nervous?

I simply nod my head. If I say something, he may get even more freaked out. I'm fighting for my spot on earth right now, man.

He presses the space bar then leans back, letting me listen.

I flinch when I hear the opening-- he wasn't kidding. It's similar to what the band usually does, but there's something sinister and death-metal-ish about the instrumentals. Sal seems to have a lot of control over the sound here. The double electric guitar, and heavy bass from a literal bass but drums too says enough. It's veering off the path that DAC usually takes.

Just because it's a little different doesn't mean it isn't damn good though. It's really good. Sal's cooking up a five course meal on his laptop here.

"Life slips by In the blink of an eye, Dripping through the gaps In my hand which saps This eternal time lapse Of brutality.

Prophesy each of my regrets; My mistakes chosen by the oracle. A fool making bets With possibilities so rhetorical."

I grin at the lyrics, at the sound, everything. I look over at Sal and he has a little smile on his face too, his expression so heavenly when his eyes meet mine. 

"This is--" I start to say, but Sal cuts me off.

"Shut up. Listen," he whispers. So I do.

"An artist of malice-- My muse of persuasion. Drink from my crimson chalice, Submit to the composer's pervasion.

Aren't we friends? This anguish and me. Gaze through the rose-tinted lens, Ignore the razor blade's sharp plea."

I blink, the smile falling from my lips in record time. Just days ago, Sal asked me that question. 'Aren't we friends?' There have been so many coincidences with this band. So many, in fact, that I genuinely thought Sal and North were the same person at one time.

There's more to this than what I've been told.

"You work close with them, don't you?" I ask, tuning out the rest of the song for now. If he tries to shut me up again, I'll shove a finger down his throat.

Sal doesn't look at me as he chews on the inside of his cheek. And-- wait... is he... blushing?

"Caught that, huh?" He asks, pausing the song but still refusing to look at me.

My eyes widen at his admission. "What exactly do you do with them?" I ask quickly, leaning back a little bit as a thousand and one theories pop into my head. Is he going to tell me that he is North? That he's been hiding behind that name all this time?

And if he is, would I finally tell him that I'm Lexi? 

If North is Sal, a lot of things are going to change.

Sal's tongue swipes along his bottom lip. "I write every single one of their songs," he says, nodding to himself. "They put it together, make music with it."

Oh. I got ahead of myself again.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as my body suddenly grows warm with shame. It's time I put that theory to rest. 

I furrow my brows though, thinking back on the lyrics. "Look," I start warily, "I don't want to seem full of myself or crazy or anything, but I swear--"

Sal shakes his head, his dimple forming on his cheek as a bashful smile grows on his lips. "You're not crazy. I hate that you correlated it, but... there are a few lyrics inspired by some of our interactions. When things make an impact on me, I usually incorporate them into my songs." Now it's my turn to blush. I need a moment to process, but, fuck, Sal keeps going. "For example, 'Wherein Christine Daaè Becomes Her Own Phantom' is about Ash. And then a couple lines in some other songs, like the one you heard in this one and 'Falling through like fingers in fishnets---' those were about you."

I gape at him. This genius made of multitudes and art and misery and physics. I don't know what to say, so I stupidly spit out, "Ash has an entire song about her? You gonna write one about me?"

As soon as the words come out, I narrow my eyes and internally scold myself. Not the time to joke, y/n. Not at all.

Sal strums a note on his guitar, in a completely different world as he mumbles, "Who says I haven't already?"

My head snaps to him and a full on, rainbow infested panic attack starts up. He was so serious, ditched all of his reservations when he said that.

At my silence, Sal glances up inquisitively. He takes one look at my face and his eyes widen a fraction. "I'm joking. You aren't that important for me to write a whole song about. Don't take it so seriously."

Do I snap at him for that or feel relieved?

I choose to glare at him instead and switch the subject. "North has a really nice voice," I say a bit too cheerily. Sal notices and I watch him stifle a petty laugh. "It's very melodic, goes well with the band's sound."

"Don't tell him that," Sal snorts, something a bit bitter taking the place of his previous amusement. "His ego's already huge as is."

Ash had some serious heat on North, and now Sal's looking like he has some not-so-good opinions too. Is North really so shady? What is it that everyone's so on edge about?

I recall the time Ash went on a rampage about North incessantly flirting with me and how she mentioned that he isn't exactly known for being in relationships, that he may not be what he portrays himself as.

Sal seems to be pretty open tonight. Maybe I can finally start to understand what the issue is.

I open my mouth but fail to get a word out. I contemplate saying anything at all, nerves consuming me at the prospect. But North isn't here, it's not like he's going to find out we talked about him.

"Is he really..." I start softly. "Ash hinted that he may not be the best person?" I settle on, peeking at Sal through my lashes.

Sal watches me, eyebrows drawing together and jaw working as he searches for what to say. I wait patiently, happy that he's at least thinking about answering me.

"Are you considering cutting off our arrangement to be with him?" He asks genuinely, nothing but seriousness portrayed in his expression.

All the air leaves my body. I hadn't thought about ending things with Sal for that reason, not even once. Plus, North and I haven't talked in a while. After Ash freaked out, I pretty much put the situation on the back burner. "No," I reply quietly. "It's just curiosity at this point."

Sal's expression softens and he blinks at me, holds me in his gaze before sighing heavily. "Everyone has their own shit to work through. He's no different. He has a lot of baggage though, lot of issues. He's told me a thousand times before that he doesn't think he'd be able to handle a relationship because of his problems." He pauses, grimacing as he fights for the right words, clearly not wanting to disrespect is friend. "North is a bit of a hit or miss. I can't predict how he'd be with you." 

He sends me a devilish look, teeth on display in a stunning smile as he adds, "Definitely can't tell you if the sex is good or not. He wouldn't let me hit."

I shake my head at him and roll my eyes, a blush forming on my cheeks. "I did not ask for that last bit," I tell him pointedly.

Sal chuckles, standing up from his spot on the opposite sofa to sit beside me. I watch him with questioning eyes, my body falling into a frenzy because, oh God, Sal's close. Arms. Tattoos. Fingers. Neck. Face. Teeth. Mouth. Hair. Veins. Ravenous. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

Yikes.

He grabs the controller I'd been playing Resident Evil with and that's when I remember that other half of our last minute agreement.

"Figured I'd give you one last little push to keep fucking me and not him," he says as if that statement holds no weight, gesturing toward me with the controller.

I hate when he says 'fuck' because it's always so unironically seductive. I know he's just playing around, but that glint in his eyes and the smirk-like tilt of his lips tries to tell me otherwise.

I snatch the controller from him and unpause the game, grumbling, "I already said I'm not interested in him."

I walk through all the steps I'd already done, having to restart the entire village scene due to my repeated fuck up from last round.

Sal doesn't reply to me, he watches every move I make on the screen and I focus as best as I can. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself, but I get wrapped up in the same exact spot again, fighting off more of the infected than I can handle.

Leon's body drops to the ground again and I stomp down the overwhelming urge to walk through the TV screen and beat Leon's dead body myself.

"I see what the problem is," Sal pipes up beside me, his tone screaming 'Physics Graduate' with how... scientific he sounds. I bet he conjured up a fucking hypothesis for this. "Come here," he says, linking a finger through my belt loop and tugging me toward him.

I nearly choke on air when my shoulder squishes against his and he leans closer, grabbing my arm closest to him and pulling it so that I'm holding the controller between us.

He moves his hands so that they wrap around mine and over the controller. He can move my thumbs any way he wants with this position-- but now I'm suffering the consequences. His hands are rough and warm on me, his fingers callused and brushing over mine with a perfect plan set in place. I can hardly breathe because, technically, Sal's holding my hands right now. And my body is pressed to his. If he listens a little too hard, he'll hear my heart slamming in my chest.

My body is completely rigid against his. Sex doesn't even involve closeness like this. My entire brain has been completely detached and rewired in mere seconds. Everything I thought has been reversed and I could... totally bed him right here, maybe?

"Are you going to restart or do I have to do that for you too?" Sal rasps humorously. His voice is so near, so clear. I want to look over at him so bad, see the dimple on his cheek because I can hear his smile, but I keep a level head. My eyes stay trained on the TV as I press start.

After all, when a cool, slow-mo explosion happens in the movies, the protagonist never looks back to watch. 

I am the protagonist. I am the fucking protagonist. Iamthefuckingprotagonist.

"Okay, so this is where you're going wrong," Sal says in my ear, his tone suggesting he's much more focused now. His thumbs press into mine, moving Leon around the village much more easily than I could. Doesn't mean he's better than me, he just isn't running on fumes like I am. Sal fumes. I'm suffocating in him, it's all his fault. I am a good player, I swear I am.

I let him direct me, slowly beginning to relax in this soooo not-embrace. His arm, pressed against mine, acts as leverage for me to rest. He seems to lean against me more at some point too, the both of us more worried about getting Leon through the village than about how we slowly warm up to each other and this proximity.

"I don't know if we can get it with me guiding you like this," Sal says a tad urgently when the chase scene starts up, his thumbs working quickly with mine. At some point, I was able to start predicting what moves he'd make, so we seem to be more in sync now. "But we'll try. We have to get through the first wave, then we're going to shoot that damn church bell."

I furrow my brows. "Like the first game?" I gasp, "We can still do it here?"

Sal snorts, manipulating my fingers to shoot someone heading our way. "Of course we can. Watch and learn."

I do watch, and hell, I learn too. It takes maybe five minutes for Sal to get me through the part I'd been stuck on since I got here. The moment he gets the shot on the bell, it rings through the city and evokes deep satisfaction within me-- especially when all the citizens start piling at the church.

I smile at the screen, Sal's hands still wrapped around mine as the famed cut scene starts up.

"Where's everyone going? Bingo?"

This time I look at Sal because we said that line in unison. We said it together. At the same time. He looks back at me with wide eyes and an astonished grin, like he's barely holding back crazed excitement.

Something catches Sal's eye as we watch each other for a short moment, reveling in our shared interest and achievement. He looks up and past me, smile softening as he lets go of my hands. 

The controller is suddenly so heavy without him holding it up for me. It slowly drops to my lap as he stands, walking back over to his respective couch.

I swallow, biting down my yearning for his missing presence. He was warm, he was stable. And that admission only reinforces that fact that I really need to put some much needed distance between us before things get way too real.

I look down at my lap for a moment, reminding myself that everything's going it work itself out. It'll be okay.

Things go back to the way they were before we started conversing today. Sal plays his guitar and tweaks things on his laptop, I play Resident Evil. Only difference now is that we're both progressing through our tasks.

And you know what, it's really nice. I thought this would be a mistake, I thought this would make things so much worse-- well, things are worse, but not in the way I assumed it would be.

But I'm actually having fun. The best part is neither of us need to talk to enjoy ourselves right now. A dynamic like this one is rare.

"You need to go."

The words are abrupt, make me look up. Sal is placing his phone down beside him and pulling his guitar strap over his head. 

Is this some kind of prank? Is he just trying to get our old bickering going? I was just thinking about how nice things were and he cut it off like he read my mind. He had this icy monotone to his voice that I haven't heard in a long time.

With a wary smile, I try to play along. "You're stuck with me, buddy. You made the mistake of inviting me in."

"I'm serious, y/n. I need you to leave." He nearly cuts me off, the words rushing out in what almost sounds like a panic.

I look at him closer, leaning my head down a bit to peek past his curtain of hair. His face is so stone-like, one would think he had faced off with Medusa. My eyebrows pinch together as I finally click into the veiled tenseness around us, my realization making everything that much thicker. 

"Are-- are you okay?" I ask softly, a trickle of apprehension going down my spine. I don't know how to approach this. Clearly, something's wrong and he's trying to play it off. What do I do here? Things were going fine.

"Get out." The words are like a slap to the face, so aggressive and loud that I flinch, the controller tumbling off my lap and onto the floor.

My racing heart only increases its speed as I freeze up and just stare at him. I'm frightened, something I definitely don't want him to see but I can't help it, especially when he looks up at me with a glare so menacing-- the same glare that was always hidden by his prosthetic months ago. Until now.

I force myself to breathe and think.

Okay, he wants me gone. I can do that. All I have to do is walk out the door and I'll be out of his hair. Hell, he might even apologize about this later. My brain nags at me though, says that behind the anger in his expression is fear and sadness. Says that he doesn't need to be alone right now-- he needs someone.

This switch in him was so random, so fast. It feels wrong to think that I was the cause or that he's suddenly freaking out because I'm here. There's something deeper; the problem now is whether he'll let me find out what's going on or not. Should I even try?

Utterly split on what to do, I slowly stand to my feet, never breaking eye contact with him. His excruciating glower softens a little, showing off a glimmer of relief that further proves my thoughts.

I fight past the fear he suddenly evoked, overwhelmed by how pained he must be to have a sudden reaction like this. He helped me when I had a hard time, so shouldn't I do the same for him?

As if to confirm my thoughts, Gizmo comes veering into the room. He talks and talks, skittering over to Sal and climbing up his chest. That's when Sal finally looks away from me so he can run his tattooed hand over the cat's orange fur.

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. There is something wrong. Gizmo's presence says it all-- he did the same thing for me when I was anxious.

"Sal..." I say gently, hovering in my stance. I hold my hands to my chest, stuck on what decision to make. I don't know what to do. I'm torn between his wishes and mine. "Do you need to talk about something?"

"No," he bites out. "What I need is for you to get the fuck out." He gently moves Gizmo and stands up. I gulp, watching as that threatening aura of his grows closer and closer with each step he takes. I match his pace, taking steps backward. He herds me to the front door of his apartment, stopping when my back hits the doorknob.

I gasp at the feeling of metal digging into my lower back, using all my might not to back down and cower as Sal towers of me; every inch of his face curled with malice and rage and anguish. His dark brows are furrowed to hold up that glare of his, his light eyes darkened by the negativity roiling around in him. His marred lips set in a frown that just doesn't suit him at all. It's all so unlike him.

This isn't who I've come to know. No matter how scary he is, I just can't, in good conscience, leave him like this.

I take a shaky breath and stay stock still. Stand a bit taller to match his energy. I say a silent prayer that I don't end up on the evening news before I jump into the river crawling with snakes and alligators.

"I don't feel comfortable leaving you like this," I declare, making sure my voice is confident to show that I won't back down despite how unconfident I am.

He looks away, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as if to bite down his instinctual reaction before he addresses me again. 

He's trying. He's trying so hard not to scare me off for good-- that's why he wants me to leave now. I see it-- I see through him.

The gears work and click together in my mind. He doesn't want to be alone, he doesn't want to suffer with no one to hold him up when he's low. He's just so focused on boxing up his secrets, keeping them hidden from everyone that he won't rely on his only option. I really can't leave him now, can I?

"You can talk about it if you want, or you don't have to. But you don't have to be alone, whatever it is," I try to console him gently, moving to the side so he can see me in his peripheral. But my movement just makes him squeeze his eyes shut. My heart stutters upon realizing I'm not getting through to him, he isn't hearing me.

"Don't say that shit like you care!" he nearly explodes, voice rattling in my ears. "You don't understand anything. You don't know a thing about me."

He's looking at me again, desperation swimming in his ocean gaze, hiding away from the rage taking over his expression. His eyes rove over my face, sizing me up, waiting for the moment I bite back or walk away.

"I know I don't know anything," I tell him softly, making sure that my expression is open and, fuck, caring. Because I do care. "That's why I'm asking you to help me help you. However way is better."

"I don't want your fucking help," he hisses, eyes narrowing. "I don't want your fucking pity. I want you gone."

I open my mouth to passively fight him on that decision, but he interrupts me before I can even get a word out. "You can't spew this bullshit at me. Like you've lived a day in my life and you know what's it's like to be me. You don't, and you never will if it's up to me." With each word, pity, guilt, and anger builds within me. He's suffering and he won't let himself feel even an ounce of reprieve. Instead, he's trying to push everyone away. He's the type of asshole who probably thinks he deserves to be alone. "I don't want you here, nor do I need you here. Go coddle someone who needs it and get off my fucking case."

I clap back at him the moment he finishes. "Well, maybe you do need help! Maybe you do need my fucking pity! Have you thought about that?" I snap, gesturing to him with a hand. Why can't he just accept this? Get help? Let someone take it so he doesn't have to bear it all? "I don't need to be you to get it, Sal. I don't even need to be me to get it because I see it. You think you can hide it all, carry it all, but you clearly fucking cannot." I scrunch up my face to accentuate my words, trying to get it across to him through the parts of my face on display, the thing that supposedly captures his fascination so much. "It's seeping off of you like oil; doesn't even soak into you. You don't wear your heart on your sleeve, you wear your feelings. I don't know what the hell's going on, but it doesn't take a genius with an IQ higher than yours to see that you're in pain."

Sal doesn't let up that harsh scowl, but I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. And then he blinks. Then he's turning his back to me, walking away from me and toward the kitchen while running a hand down his face.

My heart physically feels as if it's cracking in two, but I grip onto the bit of clarity I have left after literally yelling in his face. I take a hesitant step toward him when his head tilts down, his hair falling around him.

I wet my lips, ponder what to say now. How to approach this with my fingers quaking as each quiet second passes.

"Let's..." I whisper, heaving a troubled sigh. "You don't have to tell me, but maybe talking about it will relieve you, even if just a little." I chew on the inside of my cheek, tiptoeing around the topic, making sure I'm gentle with him now that he's backed down. "And if you really don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. We can watch a movie, play a game. Whatever you want."

The tides are shifting. With each offer that leaves my mouth, something about us changes. With how much I live to loathe change, I find that I don't fear it the way I did before. Not if the change is with Sal. Not right now when this man is nearly falling apart in front of me and pretending that he isn't.

"I need--" his voice cracks and my heart does the same. He's holding himself together with wet glue right now. What the fuck is going on? "I need to talk to Ash," he tries again, his voice a little more stable this time, though still soft and reserved. "But I can't. She's busy."

I bite down on my bottom lip. I know he doesn't want to talk to me. He said it himself; he would never tell me his secrets. But I don't think either of us have much of a choice.

"I'm not Ash," I say delicately, taking one more step toward him. There's still so much distance between us, I don't know how to get to him. "But whatever you say will never leave this room. Once it's out, I'll forget it ever happened if that's what you want."

He doesn't move, doesn't speak. He's heavily contemplating, weighing his options. 

Still silent, he jumps into action, moving to a cabinet in the kitchen. He opens it, pulls out a can of peaches. I watch his every movement as he opens the can then grabs a fork from a drawer. 

I don't push him to speak, I let him figure out what he wants to do. He doesn't quite face me, but he turns so that his back leans against the counter, all while he bites into a colorful peach slice that's hanging from his fork.

He chews while staring unblinkingly at the emptiness in front of him.

"She messaged me."

My eyebrows draw together in confusion for a moment, but I think about what he's said before I ask him to be more specific. 

She. She. I only know of two women regarding Sal-- one being Ash, and the other...

I hold my breath as I realize. It's the woman who hurt him. I shift my weight, expression slackening as I try to find a solution for him. My mind starts swimming with ways to drag him from the depths of his agony. 

Ash told me that if I ever had strange messages and suspected it to be that woman, that I should let her know. And if this woman is harassing Sal, we could take it to police and maybe, hopefully, they could do something about it.

"And I don't know what to do," he continues helplessly, his sweet voice melodic with despair as he looks down at his can of peaches.

I watch him, collecting myself to approach him as rationally as possible. Then, I close the fated distance between us and walk over to him. I stand before him, about a foot of space between us. He doesn't look up.

"Here's what we can do," I start tenderly, trying to be as soft as possible while being a stable foothold he can use to climb out of this mess.  "You don't have to look at it again," I continue, my gaze never leaving him even though he's almost completely hidden from me. "If you trust me with it, I'll take your phone, log in, screenshot the message. Then, I'll block her-- no response because she does not deserve it. I'll send the screenshot to myself then send it to Ash from there. It'll be out of your hands at that point. Me and Ash will handle the rest." Me and Ash because I want to sink my fangs into this bitch too.

Sal sets the can on the counter beside him, rubs a hand across his forehead. His fringe is wild, his hair sticking up in different directions until he runs a hand through his hair, his black nails clashing against a sea of cerulean blue. "Okay," he says, the word so quiet and raspy that I nearly miss it.

I wait just a moment, eyes glued to him. "Okay," I repeat. "I'm going grab your phone."

I backtrack to the living room, picking his phone up from the couch where he'd left it. I flip it so that the screen is facing me and see an Instagram notification. I don't read it just yet, but I slide up on the lock so that he can type in his password. 

When I'm back in the kitchen, I stand in front of Sal and hand him the phone. Fork hanging from his mouth, he quickly types in his password then hands the device back to me. 

It's open to the message. I know I'm doing this for him, but I'm afraid to look too much in fear of seeing something he doesn't want me to see. The last thing I want to do is betray his trust when he's finally given it to me.

"Do you want me to read it or just get the job done?" I ask him. 

"Just read it. It's inevitable either way," he mutters dejectedly. That tone makes me frown worriedly. I'm already on the precipice of falling into complete heartbreak. His reaction certainly doesn't help. Still, I take the screenshot before glancing over the text:

@zoxbby112: 2 fucking years? sexual assault? you've got to be fucking joking you pathetic piece of shit. i TOLD you no one was going to believe your dumb ass and you still went and did it anyway. you're literally a dude, if you didn't want it you should've pushed me off or smth. everyone says no in the heat of the moment asshole. you liked it, you just need to play the victim since no one else is ever going to want you and that ugly fucking face. you're lucky i even still fucked you after getting that piece of plastic off you. fucked up my entire life. making yours a living hell is the only revenge i'm willing to get. 

I have to grip onto the counter to stop myself from crumbling to my knees upon realizing just how this woman hurt him. It was sexual assault. She assaulted him. 

"Oh, Sal..." The words slip past my lips, unbidden and broken as I take a shaky breath.

I blink past the sudden tears in my eyes and shake my head as I block her account then delete the message, navigating my way through his home screen and to discord. I send the message to myself then grab my own phone, making sure to save the screenshot. I go back to his, deleting the photo from our messages and his camera roll so he never has to see it again.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel. So much of me wants to be angry, but all I'm feeling is throbbing pain and overwhelming guilt. I feel like my organs are being harvested from my body, like my skin is slowly being peeled away from my bones. All because I have no idea what to do for him, I don't know how to make it better. I don't know how to fix it for him, and I don't think I can.

"I'm..." I start to say, my voice hoarse. 

"Please don't tell me you're sorry," he says quietly, stabbing his fork into another peach.

I tilt my head, biting my tongue as I place his phone down beside him. If I were in his situation, I wouldn't want to hear sorry's anymore either. God, more than anything I just wish I could go back in time and save him from that.

"You know," I say instead, so much emotion ravaging me whole that I don't know how to stay standing on my own. The only reason I'm still up is for him. "I don't know much about physics, but I did like biology. And something my teacher taught me is that skin renewal takes seven years. So in seven years, you'll have brand new skin, and, um, it won't be the same skin you had when..." I trail off, going completely blank while trying to give him something to look forward to. Everything is so pathetic that even my brain can't cooperate.

Sal's head snaps up to look at me like he actually understood what I was yapping about. His pretty blue eyes glisten with unshed tears, but he still looks at me, face completely expressionless.

I match his gaze, waiting for something. Anything. But then he cracks a pitiful smile, snorts softly-- shows me as much humor as he can muster up. Wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

I feel each of my damaged cells rebuilding themselves again at his shift in character. My heart beat becomes a little stronger, my breath more even and not so shallow with torturous anticipation. 

"My skin will be untouched in seven years," he laughs, albeit humorlessly, but it's something.

"Yea, that's what I was getting at," I confirm, rubbing my arms and looking down at my feet.

Still standing beside him, I glance up just as he bites off half the peach slice on his fork. He gazes back at me, his eyes bluer than any sky I've seen, expression softer than any lingering touch of his.

I feel heat gather along my cheeks when he tilts the fork toward me slowly, offering me the other half of the peach. He looks like a cornered bunny, giving the fox hovering around him a peace offering. It's an apology and a thank you, reinforcing the trust that I handled with as much care as possible. 

This fruit means something to him. I haven't an inkling of understanding on the offer, but if it matters to him then it matters to me.

I gently pluck the fork from his fingers, bite off the other half of the peach then hand the fork back.

Turning, I lean my back against the counter and stand beside him, both of us looking into the empty living room in front of us. We don't talk, we don't share a word. But we do pass that fork back and forth. He takes a bite of a peach, I finish it off. It goes like that until the can is empty, and then we both just kind of... stand there.

He pushes off the counter with a soft grunt, dumps the remaining syrup into the sink, washes it down the drain, then he walks over to me. He just stands there and looks down at me with the gentlest expression I've ever seen on him.

I stare back at him, dumbfounded as my mind races for explanations. So much is different now, I didn't think it could possibly change any more but I'm slowly learning that I keep severely underestimating Sal Fisher. Neither of us can make up excuses for this. 

I quickly fit the puzzle pieces together though and realize he's right in front of me because I'm blocking the trashcan. What only solidifies it is that a little upside down smile quirks his lips upon seeing me connect the dots. 

Now, we move the the awkward, embarrassment stage that comes with deep connection. Yea, making friends really sucks, especially when I want so much more than friends.

What?

The unwarranted thought flies out of my head as Sal braces a hand on the counter beside me when I don't move, caging me in as he bends forward. His face passes right beside mine and his hair brushes my cheek, making a chill run up my spine.

His body heat encases me like a warm duvet on the coldest of winter days, his scent wrapping around my soul, squeezing tight, comforting. He's so familiar now, it feels so normal being close to him like this. So much so that I ache to hold him right here for hours. Forever, even. 

Maybe it's the dim lights in the kitchen, the dark night filtering in from his balcony windows. But when he moves backward, he doesn't go far.

He hovers near me, his hand still pressed into the counter beside me. He's close, very close. Closer than he's ever been, I think. 

I map the curve of his lips, my eyes drifting to where the deep scars elongate and change the shape of his mouth, dragging up his cheek and to his eye-- the eye that I can clearly tell is a prosthetic now that he's so close. It looks so similar to his real eye that I genuinely couldn't tell the difference before. 

"You have freckles," I whisper upon noticing them, my voice barely above a whisper. Before I can stop myself, I lift a hand between us and gently run my fingertips over his skin, tracing every little light spot along his nose and cheeks. 

His eyes glance back and forth between mine in my peripheral vision and at the same time, a light pink dusts his cheeks that I'm so focused on. He swallows, licks his lips. Unable to form words.

He opens his mouth, almost like he's thinking of saying something, but he doesn't. He simply lets out a breath, delicately holds me in his gaze.

I let my hand drop between us, marveling at the feel of his soft skin beneath mine. I don't want to make him uncomfortable though, I'm already ogling him enough as it is.

At the realization that I really am looking at him so hard, I tilt my head down, dropping my gaze. After what that awful woman texted him tonight, I doubt he wants to be looked at like this. Picked apart, observed. The point of this is to help him, not point out everything he probably hates about himself. Though, there really is nothing to hate. The me from a couple months ago would passionately object to that statement, but that's past-me for a reason. 

Things change. I changed. Sal's changed.

My breath catches in my throat when his hand presses against my cheek, using the leverage to tilt my head up again. To look at him.

My heart leaps in my chest and I'm unable to breathe when I notice his dilated pupil, feel his thumb gently rubbing my along my jawline. His eyes track his digit's movements, but I can't even be bothered to look away from him. I'm bewitched by his fascination with me, haunted by the calm expression on his face, the wonder in his eyes.

His thumb drags down from my cheek and to my mouth, skimming over my top lip, then the bottom. I feel skittish, burning to move some part of my body to release the energy pent up inside me.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip, entranced by my own mouth.

And if he were to actually try to kiss me this time, I wouldn't stop him.

A low hum spreads throughout my entire body upon acknowledging our situation and the tension that's suddenly filled the air. It's a tingling in every limb, down my spine, up to the very tips of my fingers and toes. I feel him everywhere even though he's only touching my face. I can see him so well, so easily. The slightly darker shade of his left eye and the golden flecks of stardust in his right eye. Pretty. So pretty.

"So pretty," he murmurs my own thoughts. Something about the way he says it, so unguarded and adoring, makes me think I wasn't supposed to hear it.

I don't know how to reply or if I even should. I simply watch him like I have been all night, feeling oxygen and rationality leave me with each prolonged second of this somewhat embrace of ours. We've found ourselves like this more than once today, could we possibly escape it again?

I feel so light and heavy at the same time, thrumming with energy but weak. The feeling of his skin, so cool against my flushed skin, is enough to have my mind racing but to make my body completely freeze. I'm stuck. There's so much... so much that I want to do with the way he's looking at me this way, but I can't make myself do it.

I don't quite realize how close we've suddenly gotten until his nose bumps my mask's. A quiet gasp leaves me and his eyes dart up, gazing into mine.

He's fighting himself and I can tell, the quick scrunch of his eyebrows gives everything away.

Things are really about to change-- again. As if they hadn't already.

There's something startling about the way his eyebrows draw together again, but this time in a pleading way, like he's silently willing me with his mind to pull away from him. Begging me to put a stop to his internal madness. To change his mind. His doe eyes look a little scared and a little dedicated– two very different emotions that just so happen to go hand-in-hand for the moment. 

The way he's looking at me... it's been so long since anyone has looked so pleasurably torn up over wanting me so badly. And not in a lustful way, but in the way that forms bonds. Connects us so intimately without the goal of chasing an orgasm or being able to get something out of the situation. The way he's looking at me screams curiosity and a need to sate it so bad that he's not fighting the battle he wanted me to pull him away from moments ago. He's just slowly giving in and trying to convince himself that he's not.

I'm no better than him in this moment. My hands are balled into fists, my entire body frozen and awaiting whatever it is that's going to come next. My fingernails bite into my palms and my heart drums against my chest, wishing he'd move closer.

I didn't think it'd be this way. I didn't expect to crave him so badly, to miss the feeling of his lips on mine without ever having felt it before. It's excruciating to yearn for him in this new way and hope that he doesn't back out before I can even feel him.

As if he read my mind, he's moved so close that I can feel his breath on my chin, his top lip brush over mine.

I suck in a choking breath and hold it, praying this isn't all a dream.

"Aren't you scared?" He whispers quietly, his mouth skimming over mine with each syllable. His words echo in my mind, his tone caressing my thoughts, coercing me into falling into him and never getting up again.

"No," I whisper back, shutting my eyes and waiting. It's scarier to look at him and fear that he'll move away. Almost as if to lock him into place, I grip onto the hem of his shirt.

He goes quiet and I feel every one of my neurons lighting up with anticipation when his forehead presses against my mask's. 

"Push me away. Something," Sal whispers, the words so quiet and pained that I don't dare open my eyes to observe his current state. 

He knows. He knows this is exactly what he told me wouldn't happen, but now it's about to. And we should be realistic, think about the consequences but I don't want to. I just want to feel him, have him near. I want to be selfish.

I lick my lips, forgetting he's so close. My tongue swipes over his bottom lip and I hear it-- feel it when he steals a breath that tries to escape him.

"I can't," I answer him hoarsely, unable to raise my voice for him to hear me better as I squeeze the fabric of his shirt in my fist. Every bit of me aches to touch him, to feel his skin on mine but I can't muster up the courage, not when this entire situation is in his hands right now.

I won't choose for him today, not with what brought us to this. If he wants me, he can take me.

"Please." His word comes out in a broken whisper, so full of yearning that a little whimper escapes my mouth.

"Please," I mimic him, entranced by the featherlight brush of my lips over his. I can't keep doing this. I can't... "I can't think. Do it."

He lets out the most pitiful sigh I think I've ever heard in my life, and then leisurely presses his lips into mine. It's slow, soft, careful. He holds himself there, suffocates in the sensation just as I do.

Everything I thought I had lost so long ago comes rushing back into me. Excitement, life, a want for more than basic necessity. And for once, I don't feel bad. I don't feel guilty for wanting Sal as much as I do.

I place a hand on his stomach to remind myself that this kiss is real, that he's truly standing in front of me.

My touch was the trigger, I realize, when his other hand moves to my other cheek, pulls me closer to him. He tilts his head a bit as his jagged lips part against mine, softly welcoming the slanting of my mouth against his.

My throat feels as though it's clamped shut as I move a hand to grab onto the base of Sal's neck, my fingers wrapping around the collar of his shirt. I'm completely enraptured by the feeling of his mouth on mine. I feel like I'm going to faint, my heart beating so quickly, so vigorously that I can hear my blood pulsing in my ears. There's so much emotion that I've bitten down and hidden for so long regarding Sal. It's all coming out now.

Our lips move slowly, passionately. There's no rush, no heat. It's just feeling. Every movement, every moment of his lips sliding so delicately against mine, every ragged breath, every tightening of his hands on my face or my fingers bunching into his shirt. The feeling of our noses occasionally brushing against each other, plastic against damaged skin, and his chin skimming over mine just a bit. It's beautiful and so passionately smothering. The quiet morphs to mimic the simultaneous quick pace of our heart beats.

I feel the rapid beating of his heart like a drum right in the center of my chest where we touch, becoming one despite the heavy, loathsome origin story we were granted with. I'm sure he can feel just how much he's affecting me, his hand drifting over my neck and two fingers pressing against my pulse point like he did the first time we were together.

As sadistic as he is, I think he's only checking because he can't tell where his heart beat begins and where mine ends. 

Sal's lips close over mine again, the feeling eliciting a shiver that threatens to take over my entire being. I return his kiss, desperate to be closer to him in any way possible while my hand trails from his shirt to his cheek, brushing over the soft, scarred skin. 

He presses me against the kitchen counter, his hands beginning to roam past my face and neck as things gravitate from sweet to intense.

Our kiss becomes aggressive, his teeth biting into my lips and quiet breaths and whimpers passing from him and to me. He makes me feel crazy, filling me with exhilaration that courses through my blood quicker than adrenaline ever possibly could. 

Sal moves backward and I move to follow, but then his lips leave mine. 

I open my eyes, blinking up at him with barely an inch of space between our faces. 

He stares at me, looking like I've just torn him to pieces and hid every bit of him away and now he has to play eternity-long hide-n-seek.

But beyond that, his lips are flushed and kissed, his cheeks tinged pink and hair a mess-- when did I touch his hair? His eyes look a little brighter though, a little less haunted.

"Uh," he voices shakily. "Heat of the moment?"

He doesn't even sound like he believes himself.

The statement still makes my hopes deflate dramatically though. I chew on the inside of my cheek and force myself to look him in the eye as I lie to his face. "Yea," I rasp, taken aback by the sound of my voice. "Yea."

He watches me closely, never moving farther nor closer. As the seconds pass, he seems to sober up, the terrified look in his eyes slowly fading away.

If he decides this was a one time thing, at least I got to taste him once. At least we got one moment, one kiss. It's what I wanted and it's what he wants. 

Sal interrupts my thoughts, whispering, "You know..." One of his hands painstakingly and slowly trails along my side, making my skin erupt with  goosebumps. "I think we're still in the heat of the moment," he continues darkly, gaze falling to my mouth.

I don't let shock take control, I only try to control the smile that tries to quirk my lips. "I think so too," I whisper back, looking down at his teeth that bite into his lower lip like he's barely holding himself back.

As soon as he hears my response, he doesn't bother holding back. He smashes his lips onto mine and engages the two of us in the same dangerous dance we made the mistake of beginning earlier.

-------

A/N::::: BEEN HOLDING THIS ONE IN THE DRAFTS FOR A WHILLLLLLEEEEE I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY TIME-- LIKE I ACTUALLY CAN'T BELIEVE IT WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO WRITE AFTER THIS

jk >:3

yea so as much as i adore this chapter, it also scares me because i feel like it moves way too fast (totally hasn't been nearly thirty fucking chapters ahahhaha). so yea, PLEASE let me know how we feel about this and what could have been better!

psa: i'm going to be starting student teaching august 1st, and college has me going to lots of meetings which means things are about to get VERRRYYYY busy for me… busier than they've ever been :( but!! i think things will be okay. lately, i've been teaching myself to fight through the lack of motivation and write any time i get even an inkling of yearning for it. exactly why y'all got this chapter so soon, actually! i saw something about how stephen king writes 5,000 words a day and i've been building to that! so while i won't be able to freely write as much as i know i'll want to, i'll still be writing. you guys know the drill though, even if it takes me a month or two to get something out, WINTER BREAK IS IN DECEMBER WHICH MEANS I CAN BEAT Y'ALL UP WITH CHAPTERS!!!

as always, i love you all SO much. more than you'll ever know. things have been tough on my mental lately and i'm going to be going through a HUGE shift in my life, but… that's okay cuz I know I'll always have you guys. thank you for being the most stable, non-toxic, and reliable things in my life! y'all going in my will fr

have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night my babies <3

p.s. when i wrote this note, i had just posted this chapter to wattpad-- which was about a week ago. the huge shift in my life had involved a six year relationship that i ended yesterday. i am incredibly torn up and shaken by this, but i believe it needed to happen for my wellbeing as well as my growth as a person. I know it's not necessarily an important thing to add to this note, but i want to give a reason just in case this healing process causes a prolonged absence for me. i am completely dedicated to faceless fixation and even today i've thought about what i want to write next, but i need to put some focus on myself instead of running away from my problems. thank you guys for being wonderful, i love you all so much!! until next time <3

[mollisangelus]

Perspective Is A Fickle Thing

Dom! Alpha! Izuku x Soft! Omega! Reader

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Izuku is super out of character right now, but bare with me, it'll get there. Everything will make sense.

TW: None!

♡———♡

You found yourself thinking about that day a lot. You talked so much, that you ended up going somewhere else to get dinner. It was just so easy, which you found surprising. You didn't like new people much. The best part was the way he even paid for it, the memory burning into your mind and causing blush to dance along your complexion quite quickly.

"It's a shame Ura couldn't come, but duty calls." 

You sighed and nodded, "Yeah, she just seems to always overwork herself.." 

Just then, the waiter appeared, check in hand. "I hope you both enjoyed your night, an adorable couple really. I'll be right back to grab the check." With that, he was gone before either of you could protest. Not that Izuku seemed like he was going to, his eyes on the check as he goes to grab it. 

In your flustered state, you clumsily grab your small purse and dig to grab your card. It takes you a minute or so, and Izuku is confused as to what you are doing until you pull it out. 

"I'll pay tip too, so don't worry!" With that, you go to place your card in there and write a note to split the cost, but Izuku is quick to stop you. 

"Don't be silly, I'm paying." His hands are on yours to keep you from the check, and his eyes seem to burn in your skin. You feel the spotlight and your spine tingles. It was just like earlier. It was like you were left no room to argue, but you were awkward naturally anyways.

"Oh, okay.." you mumbled, biting on your bottom lip in nervousness. 

You both ended the night with him giving you his number and driving you home, because it was much too dark and late for you to walk and take the bus. He insisted. It felt like a date, for sure, but your conversation was aimed towards business, which was obviously his goal.

It was a business date! That's right! Perfectly normal, I mean that is why you had a meeting in the first place! It just proves that it went so well! 

After coming to that conclusion, you felt so light on your feet for the next week and a half, and your enthusiasm for work seemed to triple! You had so much work to do if the number 1 hero puts his faith in you! So, as you're tinkering with one of Uraraka's sidekick's gadgets that were recently crushed one day, you get a text. It was odd, you don't talk to many people, especially outside of work. Anyone in your circle would just come to you. Your curiosity wins this time, and as the cat screams, you peer at your screen. The childish name 'green boi💚' is on the notification, with 'new message' underneath. You mentally curse yourself for the high school girl butterflies, yey you're still quick to unlock your phone and read. 

"Let's have dinner again, I'd like to talk about a proposition."

You freeze for a moment and your thoughts race. What does that mean? Proposition? You start to type your confusion till your stupidity hits you like a bus. A job, he wants to offer you a job. Your cheeks flare as you text back.

Quickly, you texted back, "Wow, I'm honored! Just send me when and where!" Anxious butterflies flutter in your stomach as you type, and you have to double back on words. It wasn't that big of a deal, even as you try to tell yourself that though, your omega and heart are soaring. Your nerves seem to be burning out as you bite at your lip, waiting for a response. 

"I'll call you." 

Then before you could make an excuse, your phone was buzzing with his contact name lighting up the screen. Shock flares through you, and you juggle your phone clumsily with your surprise.

As you struggle to keep a grip, you shakily swiped up and put the device to your ear. "H-hi..?" God, you must sound so weak right now. Not very confident business woman of you.

"Hi! I'll pick you up around 8, alright? So just send me your address. I had to call cause my hands are a bit busy at the moment." You hear movement in the background and clink of something on a table.

"O-oh, okay! You don't have to pick me up, I can walk…!" You were so quiet, so nervous. You did your best to keep the cheerful chip at the end, but your heart hammered with each stutter.

"Nonsense, I'm not making you walk in the dark." It was final.

"Are you sure?" You appreciated a gentleman, but you couldn't stand being inconvenient. Not even in the littlest ways. 

"____. I'm picking you up, send me your address, okay? I have to go, I'll see you at 8." This time it really was final, the sound of a hang up in your ear. 

You could have protested, could have insisted you walk, but you're immediately typing your address like you were told. Just who is this man?

A/N: can you believe I'm alive? I'll try to at least finish this before I lose hyperfocus.

[yansimstorythatiwillnotworkon]

Oka Ruto

Name: Oka Ruto

Gender: Female

Class: 3-2

Club: Occult

Persona: Lovestruck (Coward)

Reputation:

Overall: +30

Liked: 0

Respected: +100

Feared: -10

Crush: Taro Yamada

Strength: Incapable(?)

__

Oka is pretty overloved, and I'm pretty sure that this is because YanDev's only goal was to make a "shy girl" character, as well as the "big titty goth gf" character. Of course, I could always be wrong, but in all honesty I'm not even sure why any type of school would promote an occult club, especially considering that the club itself doesn't have too many BIG benefits regarding a normal playthrough.

But enough about the functions, I'd like to get into the ideas for the story. Originally, in the story I wrote so long ago, I stopped posting after I finished Oka's week, although I'm not sure why. But in these chapters, I put to use the demons, the 3rd for bathroom ghost, and every member of her club in a way. This was of course because I desperately wanted them to be useful for something. By all means I'm fine with the supernatural being a canon thing in YanSim, I just never understood why it was there in such an easter egg manner.

I hope that this can function as a decent week(s) to represent her, although it will take a good minute to get all of them done. As of 5/26, I've finished a single chapter and plan on posting it every five students (excluding Aishi and Taro).

I've more details about Oka's relations with her club and such beneath the cut.

Shin is trustworthy, Oka knows that, but if she's not around, he's usually just as timid and quiet as the rest of the club. Of course, she can't blame him or her club for their own anxieties and appreciates his ability to step up whenever she's around, but sometimes it worried her when she was gone. On the note of Shin, though, despite his feelings for her, she can't bring herself to feel the same. It's a great trait to want to protect the one you love and make sure they follow a safe path, but Oka's already anxious enough as it is. Oftentimes, her anxieties are completely unwarranted, and even when they are, Shin treats her as if everything she conspires about is completely true or normal. Oka appreciates this, but she really wish she had someone a bit more... normal, so to speak. More normal than her, more normal than Shin, and more normal than her club.

Which is unsurprisingly where Taro comes in. Taro is a pretty regular guy and holds his own minimal charms. He can tell her when she's overthinking something or when something she comes up with simply doesn't make any sense. Simply because he's normal. Oka loves her club and all of her friends, but with all of the anxiety that's been built up after having believed in this for so long, it makes sense for her to be so exhausted of it. She can believe in ghosts all she wants, but it didn't mean that she had to surround her every waking moment around being anxious about it. That's why she'd like to try to be a little normal. Maybe even leave the club and get together with Taro. Not only to experience a normal friend, but to experience a normal relationship as well.

Supana is one of her friends, as well as her first and best right now. They knew each other outside of school and met similarly to how Budo and Oka met each other- through their parents. While Supana was simply interested in all things supernatural, Oka's parents convinced her that they were 100% real and have bashed this thought process into her head since she was a child. Supana knows this and knows firsthand how anxious Oka can get because of how she was raised. She'll be another one of the more important club members.

As for the 3rd floor bathroom. I assume you can guess why she would have a fear of it all things considered. I imagine she often switched chores with Dora or something at the end of the day but will eventually get caught by a teacher and be forced to clean her assigned bathroom, which in turn will trigger her interaction with the ghost. I don't want to spoil too much, but I will say that Sumire most certainly wants Ayano dead. At practically any cost.

[storiesofleftoverghosts]

dating the batboys... and their Taylor Swift songs | (1.5/2)

pairings: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

warnings: angst, mention of death, arguing

requested?: kind of! @igotanidea asked to be tagged for a part for Jason so here you go!

a/n: THANK YALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON THE FIRST PART!! it truly means a lot to me! I’m also sorry it took SO long, I’ve been testing. I decided to split this into parts just so I could get something out for y’all. It also is a bit longer than others so I hope y’all like it!

its so hard only choosing two songs but if I didn’t this post would be going on foreverrrrr.

Jason Todd

i'd like to establish this by saying Jason Todd is NOT the angry Robin

but like with all of the boys, he is traumatized

like extremely traumatized

if he was to get with you, he'd have to know you for a long time

even then it's iffy

he has a lot of trust issues

and abandonment issues

issues in general

if he knew you before his death, I feel like you’d have a higher chance of him trusting you

(the angst potential here…)

but don't get me wrong

he’s the type who once he loves someone, he loves them with every ounce of fiber he has in his body

I’d like to think of him as a secret hopeless romantic

just has a hard time showing it

he would be the type of boyfriend to tease you about you wanting something badly and then go behind your back and buy it for you

this man would die (again) for you

you ask him to jump and he’ll say how high

in the beginning he would be anxious about doing mundane things with you (not that he would ever admit)

but once he gets used to it, it’s his favorite thing

do not fold laundry with this man because he’ll definitely make into a war and start throwing clothes at you

favorite pass time would be to cook with you

YES I HEADCANON HES A GOOD COOK SHUT UP

being lazy on the couch together, reading books and enjoying each others presence

as much as Jason loves touch, I feel like he would love spending quality time with you more

especially given his busy life style with being Red Hood

would keep you away from that life

he’s like Bruce in that aspect and will not risk getting you involved

especially because being Red Hood is more dangerous and he has a LOOOT of enemies

encouraging him to open up about his emotions

he’s better than Bruce about talking about his feelings, but he still has issues with it

comforting him through nightmares

also comforting him through panic attacks and whatnot

understanding his complicated relationship with his family and trying not push him about it

still developing some what of a relationship with his brothers

if you knew him before his death, definitely having that fear of losing him again

you never recovered from the loss of him and even to this day, it haunts you

having arguments about it because Jason insists he’s careful and you won’t lose him

having arguments in general because he struggles with trusting people and is paranoid

those arguments do not last long because as much as he is stubborn

he doesn’t want to lose you

longest it will last is a couple of days

staying up late waiting for him to get home

LATE NIGHT CUDDLES

I would also like to argue that Jason lives for playful wrestling

he loves making you smile as it’s his favorite feature on you

late night motorcycle rides

he is such a mother hen when it comes to you

“did you eat today? have you had any water? what time did you go to bed?” “okay mom,”

teaching you how to use specific weapons and self defense because duh, it’s Gotham (part two)

at the end of the day, Jason Todd is a traumatized man trying to love you the best he can.

Me being me, I’m going to have to say Afterglow (from Lover) would be my number one choice for Jason. It actually inspired me to even start this! I think Treacherous (from Red (Taylor’s Version)) would be so Jason too.

Bonus: Sparks Fly (from Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)) is also a very Jason Todd song. No I will not elaborate.

“Tell me that you're still mine

Tell me that we'll be just fine

Even when I lose my mind

I need to say

Tell me that it's not my fault

Tell me that I'm all you want

Even when I break your heart”

It didn’t take a genius to realize Jason Todd had messed up. He knew it as soon as the words that had tasted like poison left his mouth. All of the melting hot rage he had felt reached it’s boiling point, and it finally blew up.

“What do you know, you don’t even have a family!”

It seemed to echo throughout your shared apartment. The deafening silence that slowly poured in after made him feel incredibly nauseous. Your face slowly contorted from one of shock to one of a statue. Stoic and cold. The only sound to be heard was the incessant rain pounding against the windows.

You had slowly made your way over to the couch. For fifteen minutes you sat on the soft leather couch. Fifteen fucking agonizing minutes of nothing but Jason trying to somehow make it right. He apologized many times. He tried comforting you. But you just sat there, eyes closed and ignoring everything he had done. His side of the couch seemed to grow heavier and heavier with every attempt.

It made him feel like a child again. When his mother would get upset with him, she would give him the silent treatment. It would go on for days on end, and he would beg and apologize for forgiveness.

He never told you that though.

What you guys were arguing about seemed so small now. Jason was always one to blow things out of proportion. At one point in time, it had been about you going out with Dick and Tim for the third day in a row. He was a bit envious of your relationship with the aforementioned. He just didn’t know if it was Dick and Tim he was jealous of or you.

Instead of trying to talk to you about staying home and spending time with him or hell, even inviting him out with you, he took out his irritation you. It had been a long day, and this had been the cherry on top. He made a snarky comment to try and start a fight. Unfortunately, you were one to try to talk it out. It only added fuel to the fire. It escalated to the current situation. He hadn’t meant for it to end up like this.

Why’d he have to break what he loved so much?

Finally, you made a noise. You took a deep breath in and bore into his eyes. Tears were threatening to spill from them any second. It felt he had been burned, and he had no one to blame but himself.

“Before you say anything, I am incredibly sorry. It was all just me in my head. I should have never said those things, and I don’t want to lose you over this. Please, please, please let me make it up to you.” He has never sounded so desperate before. But then again, he’s never cut you this deep. Your eyes had travelled down away from him. The lump in your throat was hard to swallow.

“Jason. You’re not going to lose me over this. You’re still all I want,” The tears had started to roll down your cheeks by now. Seeing you cry made his heart crush, and he couldn’t stop himself from scooting closer to you.

“But what you said had really hurt my feelings. And if you ever say something like that to me again, I’m going to leave and take some time for myself.” You warned through the tears. Seeing your lip quiver as you spoke was enough for him to engulf you in his arms.

“I promise if I ever say that again, you could smack me as hard as you can. I deserve it.” You let out a tearful laugh and shook your head. However, he was being dead serious. You buried yourself in his embrace.

“I forgive you this time. Just next time communicate with me. We’re partners. It’s me and you against the problem.” Hearing how sincere you were made his heart swell. It made him feel even more guilty for starting the argument with you. But if you could forgive him, then maybe he can forgive himself too.

“You’re right. I’m sorry for everything. I just…” He paused. It was difficult for him to talk about his feelings, but he trusted you. You were his whole world after all. “I just wanted to spend time with you alone. I had a hard today today, and you always manage to make me feel better.” He murmured. His cheeks were a soft pink color. No matter how long you guys had been together for, it was awkward for him to tell you about how he felt.

You pulled away from the embrace to look him in the eyes. A small smile was on your face and your cheeks were tear stained. Your eyes had never had more of a soft look in them as one of your hands cupped the side of his face. Your thumb had slowly grazing his cheek.

“Why didn’t you say so? I don’t mind canceling my plans for you.” The smile on your lips grew, and you leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. The rain had seemed to turn into a soft sprinkle. You got up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen. His eyes followed you, clearly confused on what you were doing.

“Come on, let’s just cook and watch something.” You called. A bright smile spread across his face as he followed your voice. It was simple idea but it meant the world that you had decided to forgive him. He wouldn’t say that arguing with you will never happen again, but he knew that no matter how frustrating the situation was, he’d never utter an insult to you again.

He loved you too much, after all.

[chainofclovers]

I'm curious: How do you perceive kudos? As the person whom you reblogged put it, I have comment anxiety, so I often stay silent. But kudos ... when I press that button I do so because I found the writing excellent, the story wonderfully crafted, it made me feel feelings (happy, sad, or everything in between), I thought about it for days/weeks after, etc. Do they mean the same to you as a recipient?

Hi anon! It makes me happy to see my email with kudos I received during the prior day, and I love seeing familiar usernames, kudos from friends, kudos from people whose usernames are entirely unfamiliar to me, kudos from one person on multiple stories. I don't believe I am owed comments or that anyone is owed comments, and it means a lot when someone takes the time to read one of my stories. That little gesture of pressing that kudos button is always appreciated.

But no, kudos don't mean the same thing to me as a comment does. Not because kudos isn't great, but because a comment feels so personal, like a gift. It's an immediate endorphin rush to read even a very short comment expressing what someone felt about a story. As a writer, nothing really beats someone taking the time to leave some written thoughts on my work. Whether it's a single line or a multi-paragraph deep dive, a comment notification makes my heart beat faster, simply put.

(And I'll add that I know that as a commenter, I sometimes leave those long multi-paragraph deep dives out of sheer enthusiasm. Other times, my comments are much shorter. I try not to get too in my head about that, hoping that authors appreciate a comment regardless of what kind of time I have. Also, the length of my own comments is NEVER something I'd want people reading my work to feel self-conscious about when choosing what to say about my stories...I love all comments, short and long, general and detailed!)

Some people are just not into leaving comments, and that's okay. I would never want leaving me a comment to feel like a chore, and as I said before, no one creating anything is owed a particular type of feedback. But since you said you have comment anxiety, that makes me infer that perhaps you want to be leaving comments, and would do so if it didn't make you feel anxious. So let me just say that in your ask to me, you constructed an absolutely perfect format for your comments:

"I found this writing excellent. It made me happy and I'm going to think about this for days."

"Your story was wonderfully crafted. I felt happy, sad, and every emotion in-between. I thought about it for *weeks* and now I'm back let you know!"

"Your writing is excellent. I'm so sad about [character] now, and just had to tell you."

You could always add something specific about what that person's writing was doing that felt so wonderfully crafted, or pull out a line or two that really stuck out to you as great, but there's certainly no obligation. The above comments, built out of your own words, would make my day to receive and I think I can speak for most writers here in saying it's hard to think of a writer who wouldn't feel the same. And in terms of the anxiety of having an interaction online...after leaving a comment like that, the "worst" thing that would happen is the writer feels happy about your comment but doesn't answer. (Which, again, their prerogative. No questions asked. Everyone interacts differently.) The best thing that could happen is that you'll hear back from a writer and be affirmed that your feedback made a real difference in their day. And either way, you'll know you made someone happy.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for insisting my roommate not get me a Christmas present/WIBT if I insist even more?

🎁 so I can find this later!

TLDR WIBTA if I insist harder than I already have that my (unaware of being transphobic) roommate not get me a gift for Christmas, since my being autistic and nonbinary may complicate things?

Sorry for the long one, there's a lot of context going into this.

I (18X) am a college freshman and am rooming with a person I didn't know beforehand. Our rooming situation is weird, so neither of us had talked to each other at all before moving in. I'll call her S (18F).

S is a very big gift-giver; it's her love language. She's gotten me a couple things in the past and has wanted me to try things so she can see if they'd make for good gifts. The problem is, I'm more on the masc side of being nonbinary, as well as the fact that I have low-intensity ASD, so usually the stuff she would want to get me (skin care, makeup, etc) is never exactly my style (most notably, she wanted me to see how a skin cream felt and I ended up complaining a bit too much, embarrassingly, before realizing that it was rude and assuring her that I appreciated the gesture, which I think helped her feel a little bit better) (another add-on, she knows I'm nonbinary, but still refers to me as a girl and uses she/her for me, which is why she keeps wanting me to try feminine products. I've played it off as not caring because I'm low key a little scared of her lol (in the way that anxious people are scared of confident people))

Because of said confidence, she tends to dominate conversations, and I'm always happy to listen, as someone who doesn't talk much myself. Because of this, I know she loves plushies and has a history with them, so for Christmas a couple weeks ago I ordered her a plushie online and snuck it into our dorm for her to find, and she ended up loving it.

Thing is, as she told me this, she said she was going to get something once she went home for the break. Apparently it's going to be expensive, too, since she joked that she told her mom to prepare for an expensive purchase beforehand.

I insisted that she not get me the gift, and that I didn't need one, but she is incredibly stubborn about it and was set in her ways of getting me one.

This is very nice of her obviously, and I appreciate the gesture, but.. I genuinely don't like being given gifts. If it's a mutually-discussed thing before-hand, sure, but most of the time gifts are a no-go. I don't exactly like giving gifts and I dislike being given gifts even more. There's way too much unpredictability, and because of my ASD, whenever I get a gift I don't like, I end up complaining about it without thinking, before realizing it's rude and assuring the person that I really do appreciate it. I've tried working on this before, but it's something I can't help— it literally happens without me thinking. As well as that, I only really knew what she'd liked because I actively listened to her a lot and spent over two months using the information I had gathered on her to get her the perfect gift. I am awful about this, since I'm very bad at coming up with gifts for people and this process— taking multiple months just to figure out what to get her— is the best I can do. I'd much rather hang out with people and buy stuff for them on the town, like paying for a dinner or sweets or whatever. The only reason I went through all of this for her is because 1 I appreciate her trying to be nice to me despite the fact that I am literally the type of person she'd bully in high school, 2 it's Christmas, and 3 it feels like I'm repaying her for trying to buy me all this stuff

So her getting me this gift just.. wouldn't sit right with me. I'm terrified of her getting me something I won't like and complaining about it before I can even think because of my ASD, and it'd feel like a massive debt to repay that'd eat at me forever. Plus, despite trying her best to respect my identity, she.. doesn't really know how transphobic she is, and I'm worried she might get me something very cutesy feminine that'd either make me 1 act uncomfortable or 2 lie to her and reaffirm her beliefs that I'm just female-lite. So, this is where my problem lies. WIBTA if I insist harder for her to not get me a present, despite it being her love language?

What are these acronyms?

[nyxiswrites1200]

Leon Kennedy Headcanons SFW

It's time to show how delusion I am about Leon Kennedy 🥰 This just my opinion but if you have any other ideas or headcanons I'd love to hear about them in the comments 🩷

Warnings: Leon Lore spoils, mentions of trauma/PTSD/insecurity. This is all my own opinion.

• We all know Leon has some serious trauma and PTSD from his job. If you were good friends with him or his lover, then he'd definitely be more vulnerable around you. There'd probably be moments where you'd see him be so gentle or break down but he never shows how much he's hurting in front of anyone else.

• Leon seems like the guy who would snuggle into your chest after a rough nightmare and just wants to cuddle. If RE2 Leon is anything to think about, he's definitely a softie at heart.

• Leon would probably try to avoid dating anyone in the first place. He feels his job is too dangerous and wouldn't want anyone to get hurt. He wouldn't want his lover to mourn or worry about him if something bad were to happen to Leon. He avoids romance or pushes the feelings away before they can become anything more.

• Don't be mistaken, Leon really wants love. With the way his life has been he craves to be that important to someone but he's also so used to going without it that he's learned to not expect it in his life.

• Leon also seems like he's the type who maybe has some insecurities. Seeing so many people in his life die has caused him to feel like he's not strong enough or not good enough. He works harder so he can save people but sometimes feels it's all pointless.

-----Now to get a little fluffy 🥺-----

• Dating Leon wouldn't be the easiest thing. He has a lot of unresolved traumas and a dangerous job. But depending on your perspective, it would be worth it.

• He would care for you deeply and do anything to protect you. If you loved Leon despite everything he's been through, he would love you more than anything else. He would cherish you and always make sure you're okay.

• Leon would probably worry that he burdens you but reassuring him is key. He would need your words of comfort to make him realize how much you care about him and that he's not any kind of burden to you.

• Leon would be a gentle lover, I think considering how much he's been through. He would want something soft and simple, that makes him forget about the struggles of his life and the reality of it all.

• Sometimes Leon stresses himself out and feels the weight of everything on him a little more than other days. Your touch and words are comforting to him. He'd want to be close to you during these times but would have trouble asking for it.

• I think Leon would have an anxious attachment style. Considering he never received the love and attention of parents through his childhood and that continued through his life. Plus he's been put through dangerous missions and training as well. He hasn't gotten the emotional growth that he probably needs. He struggles to try and ask you for things and needs a lot of reassurance and would never turn down a comforting hug or hand holding.

• But a relationship with Leon wouldn't be unfair. He'd comfort you and reassure you just as much as you do him. He loves you and would do anything to keep you happy and safe. He would work with your attachment styles and love languages to make you happy.

• Leon would come to you just to kiss you or hug you simply because he was thinking about you. But he only does this when you're alone, he doesn't really like publicly displaying himself as vulnerable.

• When Leon leaves for missions for his job, he'll often tell you that he will always come back because you're waiting for him. This is to reassure you but he truly does mean it.

• Probably one of the only people to know you two are dating would be Ashley. Leon would tell her or she'd probably walk in on you two kissing or something. Leon wouldn't really flaunt his relationship with you, but he wouldn't be scared to admit he loves you if someone asked.