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harmonicakai · 2 months

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The Only Exception

Part 1 of the "Anyone Else But You" series

Pairing: Huening Kai x Reader

Summary: It's starting to feel like you're the only person in the world that Huening Kai isn't best friends with, and you're determined to figure out why.

Tropes: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (mdni), reader has an inferiority complex

“I never had a doubt that You would come through I always adored you I always ignored you” —The Prince of the Hanging Gardens, Beatenberg

If there were any reason for Huening Kai to dislike you, you had no clue as to what it was. The two of you would get along perfectly fine on paper, but despite you and Yeonjun being best friends for over a year now, his roommate has never warmed up to you.

He isn’t like this with anyone else. Kai bounces from stranger to stranger, laughing and chatting away as if he’s known them for years. With you, he won’t even look you in the eye or mutter more than a few words.

For Yeonjun’s birthday party last month, you baked him a cake from scratch. It was a smash hit with the guests, but when Kai sang praises and asked around for who made it, you could tell he was disappointed that it had been you.

“Oh, Y/N. It was good,” he said, offering a weak thumbs up and declining to say anything else. You’d been watching him in deep conversation with every other person at the party, his obnoxiously loud laugh interrupting some of your own chats every so often. So why did he never have anything to say to you?

It’s not a big deal that he doesn’t like you. Really. He almost never comes out of his room when you’re around, so there’s not many opportunities for things to be awkward. At least until this morning.

You’ve got breakfast plans with Yeonjun at Seoul’s hottest new café, and even he can’t get a reservation. So, that means lining up with the rest of the city before the sun’s even risen.

You tiptoe around the apartment so you don’t somehow wake up Kai. The last thing you need is for another reason to hate you to be added to his list.

Sitting at the kitchen table to drink your first coffee of the day, you can hear the soft sound of the shower running. Great, you think to yourself. Yeonjun’s barely started getting ready and you’ll most definitely be last in line now.

While you’re scrolling on your phone to find less popular alternatives, a creak in the floorboards catches your attention. You look up to see a barefoot girl with messy hair and a short dress attempting to sneak out.

When you catch her eye, she looks like a deer in the headlights. No doubt one of Yeonjun’s many conquests from his latest excursion to the club, this doesn’t faze you.

That’s what you think until Kai pops his head out of his bedroom.

“Hey, wait,” Kai’s hushed voice calls. He steps out in his boxers and a t-shirt, the girl still too stunned to speak. In his hands are a small wad of lacy fabric—her underwear. “Don’t forget these.”

He flashes a perfect, pearly-white smile at her before pulling her in for a much-too-long kiss. The crazed look in her eyes afterward tells him that something is wrong.

When he glances over to the kitchen table and meets your gaze, his smile drops.

“Get out,” he tells her, his mood shifting somewhere between embarrassment and anger.

“Are we still on for Saturday night?” she asks, making you think that Kai must’ve really liked her to make plans to see her again.

“No. Get out,” he says again through clenched teeth, refusing to look away from you. She scrambles out the front door without another word.

Kai’s mouth twitches, as if he’s finally going to lay into you, but instead he presses his lips together and turns away. His bedroom door slams behind him.

Half of you is used to Kai treating you like this. The other half wonders if maybe you were as pretty as she was, he would be nicer. Suddenly, you don’t feel like getting breakfast anymore.

By the time Kai comes back out of his room, fully dressed and finally calm, you’ve already left.

He sits down, your coffee abandoned on the table, nearly full with lipstick smudged across the lid. He lifts the paper cup, inhaling the coffee’s sweet aroma, and takes a sip. It’s cold now.

—————-

It was your job on the styling team at HYBE that introduced you to the boys. You had just graduated college and moved to Seoul, and fashion was the only way you could really express yourself.

Instantly, Yeonjun noticed how shy you were and took it upon himself to bring you out of your shell. Now, the two of you are inseparable.

“Where the hell were you the other day?” he asks as you organize clothing onto racks. You’re not even dressing him today, but he’s hunted you down in the building like a bloodhound. A hairstylist trails him and attempts to put his bangs in a roller. “I woke up at the crack of dawn for nothing.”

“Um,” you start, looking over your shoulder. You lock eyes with him and then gesture towards the hairstylist, now clipping in lime green extensions.

“Hey, could you give us some privacy?” he asks, although it’s clearly more of a command. They nod and walk away, leaving Yeonjun with a half-done head of hair.

“You look ridiculous.”

“And you’re acting ridiculous. Since when do you stand me up?” Yeonjun pouts.

“Stand you up? You’re not my boyfriend,” you scoff.

“You wish I were,” he quips back. You roll your eyes. Not in a million years would you be each other’s ideal types.

“Shut up, Jun,” you say, walking towards the storage closet to grab a steamer. He follows.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll stop busting your balls. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s Huening Kai. I sort of… walked in on him… with a girl.” Yeonjun’s eyes go wide.

“Holy shit. Like they were in the act? Please tell me this wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen or—”

“No, ew. She was just on her way out.” Now he’s rolling his eyes at you.

“Come on, Y/N! Why’s that such a big deal? He has girls over all the time.” The last statement makes Yeonjun stop himself and regroup. “Well, I mean, every once in a while. Look, what I’m trying to say is that Huening isn’t a virgin, okay?”

“This is the first I’ve seen or heard of any of this,” you state. The only Huening Kai that you really knew was the innocent maknae role that he played up for the cameras. Plus, you figured with how often you were over, you would’ve noticed another girl at least once.

“Well, we try to not talk about our sex lives around you too much.” That’s a lie. Yeonjun loves talking about his sex life.

“Thanks, I guess? Is that because I’m a girl?”

“No,” he replies. “It’s because Hyuka asked us not to.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. So what was so bad about seeing him with some girl?”

You don’t really know how to put your feelings into words. Your hesitation makes a sly grin spread across Yeonjun’s face.

“Y/N… you’re not jealous, are you?”

“Oh my god, no! I’m just… confused, I guess. I kind of figured that he wasn’t very good with girls, considering that he never wants to have a conversation with me.”

“Trust me, Huening is very different when he’s had a few drinks. You’d know that if you ever went out with us.”

“You know clubs aren’t really my thing.”

“They could be. Come on, we’re going out tomorrow night. Why don’t you wear this?”

He pulls a sparkly black dress from the rack, a rejected look that you pulled for one of Le Sserafim's performances. Its straps criss cross over an open back, showing way more skin than you’re comfortable with.

“You know I can’t take anything from here. Besides, what’s wrong with my own clothes?”

Yeonjun looks you up and down. Today, you’re wearing a maxi skirt, button down, sweater vest, and your glasses. Okay, maybe it’s serving grandma-chic, but you like it.

“Y/N, you are so adorable. Really, just the cutest. But at the club, the goal is to be sexy. I’m sure under all of those layers, you’re super hot. Hot enough for Huening to bring home next.”

He says the last sentence with a wink and your ears suddenly feel hot. You get the feeling he’s not going to take no for an answer.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, snatching the dress out of his hands. “But if I go, it’ll only be for an hour, tops. And it has nothing to do with Kai, okay?”

“Whatever. Just don’t forget to make me the best man when the two of you get married, alright?”

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he muses, planting a kiss on your cheek and strutting away.

—————-

At the end of the work day, your feet ache and all you want is to get home and take a nice bubble bath.

A sudden change in concept meant that you had spent several hours past when you were scheduled to leave, calling designers in order to secure samples for NewJeans to wear in an upcoming music video.

Trudging into the elevator, you let your eyes drift shut as you lean against the wall.

“Hey, wait!” someone’s voice calls, sounding eerily familiar. Your eyes shoot open. A hand shoves itself in between the closing doors, opening them back up.

Huening Kai slips in, sweaty and out of breath. Despite seeing him just a few days ago, his hair has changed from jet black to a dirty blond.

You glance at your watch. Is this really the hour that idols tend to go home?

He checks to see that the ground floor button has been pressed and stands facing the doors. Either he hasn’t noticed you or is choosing to ignore you.

“Hi, Kai,” you say, contempt in your voice. If he won’t acknowledge you on his own, you’ll make him.

Kai turns around slowly to face you, his expression completely blank. “Oh, hi, Y/N. I didn’t know it was you.”

Sure, he didn’t. There’s still twelve floors to go, and it’s going to be a long way down.

It’s silent until floor seven, in which Hana from makeup steps in. Her hands are full of Olen’s latest release. How many colored contacts does one group need?

“Hi, Hana! Long time no see,” Kai says, bowing his head slightly. Hana’s much older than the two of you, so it’s hard to gauge whether that makes her easier to talk to or he just happens to have a thing for age gaps. For your sanity, you decide it’s the former.

“Hi, Kai! And Y/N, I almost didn’t see you there!” Go figure. You’re invisible to everyone. “Are you two headed somewhere?”

“No, we just happened to get in at the same time. Nice coincidence, though, right?” he says, much happier now than when it was just the two of you. “It’s so great that we ran into each other! Are you done for the day, too?”

“Oh, no! I still have lots of work to do, but you two have fun with your night. You’re both so young,” she laughs, stepping out onto the fourth floor. “And by the way, you would look very good together.”

When the doors shut, it’s silent again. You’re so close to the lobby now.

Except the numbers stop counting down. Kai looks up from picking at his cuticles and shoots you a knowing look. It’s stuck at three.

“That’s not good,” he says, although he doesn’t seem as worried as you. How can he stay so calm right now?

You press the emergency button and the line buzzes before connecting. The sound is muffled.

“Can anybody hear me?” you say into the mic. More incoherent noises reply back. “Hello? We’re stuck in an elevator in HYBE’s east wing. Please, send help!”

The line goes dead. You’re going to cry. You’re trapped in an elevator with the person who dislikes you most and now you’re going to cry in front of him.

You clench your fists and squeeze your eyes shut as hot tears begin to stream down your face.

“Y/N,” Kai asks, his voice soft. You’re too busy trying to steady your breathing to hear him. He places a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay! I just want to go home!” you snap at him, your voice trembling. “I’m tired and it’s been a long day and now I’m stuck here with you and I—I just can’t believe this!”

Kai takes a step back. Even through your tears, you can see that you’ve hurt his feelings. He stares at his feet. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be upset.”

His words make you choke up even more, like you’re somehow the villain. You crouch down to hug your knees. He kneels next to you and places a hand on your back.

Maybe you’re overreacting. Maybe he doesn’t hate you. Or, maybe, he just feels really bad for you this one time and has decided to be nice.

“Y/N,” he says again. You raise your head and look at him with puffy eyes. The sight of his face, so full of worry, makes you cry even harder. What the hell is going on? Who is this guy and what has he done with the Huening Kai who can’t stand to even be in the same room as you?

Kai’s hands find yours and bring you to your feet. Before you can say anything, he’s wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a hug. You bury your face in his chest as one of his hands smooths your hair.

His body is warm, his heartbeat strong and steady. Yours slowly begins to match its pace. As you breathe in and out, you notice that he smells like freshly brewed black tea and ripe peaches in the summertime.

You’re so relaxed now that you don’t notice that the elevator has started to descend again. A ding attempts to tell you that you’ve reached the lobby, but it’s too late.

“Holy shit,” Yeonjun laughs from the other side of the doorway. Has he been waiting here the whole time? “Y/N? Kai? I fucking knew it!”

Kai immediately pulls away from you and exits, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he speedwalks towards the building’s front doors without so much as a goodbye.

Yeonjun does a double take, eyeing your red eyes and smudged mascara. He sits you down on a bench and places a hand on your shoulder. “What happened?”

“Ask him,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “You guys live together.”

“Will do,” he concedes. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

“I’m fine,” you say, although that’s debatable. “Really, you’re good to go.”

Yeonjun sighs, knowing that something’s clearly bothering you, but he’s already learned his lesson when it comes to pressing you on certain matters.

“Well, goodnight, then.” He pulls you into a hug and ruffles your hair before getting up. “I love you. Call me on your walk if you need to, or at least text me whenever you get home.”

And just like that, he’s gone and you’re left all alone. Tomorrow is sure going to be something, you think to yourself.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

#hueningkai x reader #hueningkai #huening txt #txt #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt fic #txt hyuka #hyuka x reader #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt angst #hueningkai fluff #hueningkai angst #hueningkai imagines

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matan4il · 3 months

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Daily update post:

If you remember the Bibas family, they were all kidnapped to Gaza on Oct 7, the father Yarden who left their house first, to protect his family, and then the mother Shiri, 4 years old Ariel, and the baby, 9 months old Kfir.

It is now confirmed that they were not kidnapped by Hamas, but rather by one of 26 terrorist organizations in Gaza, each one so small that they're usually referred to as terrorist factions, rather than terrorist organization. This one specifically has adopted a pattern of always cooperating with one of the bigger terrorist organizations (like Hamas or Palestinian Islamic Jihad), so we can assume that's what they did on Oct 7 as well. The first 45 seconds or so from the following vid is what it looked like when Shiri, Ariel and Kfir were being kidnapped, you can see how terrified she is...

youtube

Below is new CCTV footage that the IDF has uncovered from a street in Khan Younis, so now we know which city in Gaza the three (Shiri, Ariel and Kfir) were kidnapped to. Shiri is seen barefoot, Ariel's head is sort of visible, Kfir isn't, but it's assumed he's under the blanket, and Shiri holding him close to her body. Because this footage is from Oct 2023, there's so much we still don't know. Are they still there? What's their current state? Nobody knows, but the IDF spokesman has confirmed that there is grave concern for their lives.

youtube

Yesterday, a Hezbollah attack drone crashed into Arbel, the mountain on which Tiberias (one of the 4 holy cities in Judaism) is built. For some reason, the siren didn't go off. The drone crashed not too far from a kindergarten, but thankfully no one was hurt. In response, Israel has struck Hezbollah's weapon warehouses in Lebanon. To the best of my knowledge, they're still checking why the siren warning failed, and which country was the drone launched from, Lebanon, Syria or Iraq.

A French report says that the terror tunnels Hezbollah has been digging for years on Israel's northern border are more complex and dangerous than the system Hamas has dug under Gaza. That's what Israeli soldiers will have to tackle if the northern front goes to a full scale war. The terror tunnels Hamas has dug since 2007 under Gaza are so much more developed, extensive, complex and dangerous than Israel has realized, and the IDF has had to develop new ways of fighting in and around them, which we did not have when the war in Gaza started. Hamas' terror tunnels were estimated to be bigger than the London Tube (underground train system) back in Dec 2023, and there have been more tunnels located since. Just to put things in perspective, London's size is 1572 square kilometers (607 square miles), more than 4 times bigger than Gaza, at 363 square kilometers (140 square miles), and has a smaller underground tunnel system, according to what we knew about Gaza two months ago. But people want Israel to sit back, and let these threats to the lives of Israeli civilians continue to grow freely... Just a reminder, on Oct 7, the way the terrorists got to the border fence, to destroy the cameras there, without being spotted on the way was thanks to their terror tunnels, and those tunnels allow them to hold Israeli hostages captives, and it allows Hamas terrorists a place to hide and strike from, and it's where some Israeli hostages were murdered.

Today in our corner, "Suuuure, it's anti-Zionism, not antisemitism, but somehow it keeps targeting Jews and Jewish identity," we got two stories from the UK. One is of a Jewish family sending their baby girl's birth certificate to issue her a passport got the document back torn and defaced, with the word "Israel" under "father's place of birth" scribbled over.

The second story is of how the Amy Winehouse statue, which has stood in Camden Market for essentially 10 years, has also been defaced, specifically the Star of David was covered with a Palestinian flag sticker.

This is Elyakim Libman.

On Oct 7, he worked at the Nova music festival as a guard. Survivors of the massacre there say he helped save quite a few people. At a certain point, he went back to retrieve the body of a murdered young woman, so it wouldn't be taken hostage by the terrorists, and that's when he ended up being kidnapped himself. He's been in Gaza for over 4 months, including during his birthday. The other day, he became an uncle. He was supposed to be his nephew's godfather, but didn't get to. His family said explicitly they want no terrorists to be released in order to free him, and that if Elyakim could weigh in, he would say the same.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack #Youtube

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artmopworks · 2 months

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added yuuta and did a quick color!

Some head canons that could either work in DF au or in just in general. This isn't an exhaustive list by any means but these are some that really stick in my brain for some reason.

Toge:

-Goes through a period of intense self reflection and weed use in his mid 20s.

-He grows his hair out and wears it in a bun for about year. Maki would say he was depressed but he denies it for awhile before seeking help.

- Definitely had a phase where he does nothing but build Gundam's in his spare time.

-Finally accepts his lactose intolerance at 29 after Yuuta kicks him out of bed for the 10th night in a row because he insisted on having ice cream for dessert.

-Makes a point of telling Yuuta and Maki he loves them every day.

Maki:

-Gets a trendy short hair cut in her early 20s and is unable to look in the mirror for at least 3 months after as she would only see mai looking back at her.

-After years of rejecting her own femineity as a result of struggling for acceptance from her clan in her youth, she finally embraces the idea that she can enjoy feminine things without it being seen as a sign of weakness.

-Nishimiya and Miwa made a point of visiting with Maki after they graduate to share stories about Mai. The three of them eventually become close friends.

-gets really into knitting in her 30s. Toge teases her once and she throws one of the needles so hard it sticks in the wall 2 inches from his head. He never teases her about it again.

Yuuta:

-incredibly doting on Toge and Maki. She asks him to chill out after the 4th time they're mistaken for a married couple in public. He does not.

-Goes through a depressive period right along with Toge, often encouraging, albeit unknowingly, some of their more reclusive behaviors.

-Gets super into barefoot style footwear in his early 30s. Toge hated the way all his shoes looked. Later realized it was giving him knee pain and gave it up.

-Full on coffee snob in his mid 20s.

-Reconnects with his parents and younger sister after graduating and they happily accept Toge as part of their family.

-Regularly has "bro time" with Hakari.

feel free to comment your head canons about these 3!

#inumaki toge #inuokko #乙棘 #yuta okkotsu #zenin maki #headcanon #jujutsu kaisen fanart

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sunraies · 1 year

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rafe request — can you please write about reader getting into an accident after a fight with race and rafe getting worried but make it really really dramatic like car accident life threatening, i wanna cry and feel angst 🫢

I mean this in the nicest way possible. I hope this is angst enough to make you cry. If this doesn't work, watch Daisy Jones and The Six. That made me cry today or the Notebook. We all need a good cry sometimes x

You Can Go Your Own Way

Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

Warnings- Angst. Car accident. Argument. mentions of a pregnancy scare. Talks about future. Hospital. Coma

As requested above.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

It wasn't even that big of an argument. At least wasn't meant to be until you told Rafe, you couldn't do it anymore.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He frowned, hurt flooding his eyes that you loved so much.

"I just. We keep going round in circles" You began gathering your things dotted around his room.

"Baby, stop" He tried to gently stop your hands before you moved away from him and continued "Baby, fucking stop!"

"Rafe, it just isn't going to work" You could feel the tears burning in your eyes as they threated to fall.

"It will! I promise" He tried to pull you closer but you resisted, knowing the minute you were in his arms, you would melt.

"Don't make promises you can't keep" You whispered before cutting off his reply "god, Rafe. I love you but we want different things. I'm off to college, and you'll be here, working for Ward."

"I never said I didn't want you to go," He frowned. "All I said was let's get married. "

You looked up to the ceiling before back down at him. "Because of a scare fucking pregnancy, Rafe" You pointed to the test thrown in his bathroom bin, only moments ago "God, your face when you were hoping it was positive. I can't do that. I don't want that. Not right now."

"I know, baby, I know." He ran a hand through his hair, "but I meant it, I would marry you. Not because of a baby but because I fucking love you"

You shook your head and swallowed "I don't want to be some tropy wife. I've seen how it broke my mother. She had so many dreams and I do too. You can't come with me and I can't stay here"

You had always wanted a life bigger than Outerbanks could give you. Collage in New York was that chance. Your heart was torn in two, all because you had fallen in love with Rafe Cameron.

"I love your dreams" Rafe looked like he could cry too. "I want you to live them, baby"

"I can't do that as a married collage student with my husband half way across the country. All I'm asking is that we wait. I can't give you the future you want right now"

"Why wait? It's just a ring. It shows that you are mine." He sighed before your eyes widened. It suddenly twigged, the other reason he had asked you.

"That's it! Fuck Rafe, do you really think that little of me? I'm not going to sleep around!"

"No. No. It's the guys I don't trust" He desperately tried to reach for you as you nodded and picked up the last of your things. "Baby, please"

"I'm not something you can fucking own, Rafe"

You had been together for two years and it was wonderful. Rafe was kind, caring, protective but the one thing that always caused a problem was when the protectiveness turned into possessiveness. A little you could handle, an arm around you at a party, a kiss on temple as you talked to another guy but the fighting, the anger at someone for even looking at you the wrong way, it was too much.

As you stammered your car door and locked it. Rafe ran out to you and hammered on the window. He called out to you, but you drove away, leaving him cursing barefoot in the driveway.

You weren't sure where to go. You couldn't go back home right a way. The moment your mother saw you crying, it would feel too real. Your best friend was most likely in The Cut, and again, if you fall into her arms, it would be too much to bare. You loved her brother so much, it hurt. So you drove into the night to clear your head.

It happened quickly. They say things can change in the blink of an eye. That life is made up of split seconds.

You had been adjusting the volume on the radio as 'Go Your Own Way' by Fleetwood Mac played. It seemed like the sky was crying with you as it began raining heavily.

Your phone lit up with a message distracting you.

Gorgeous 👑 - 'Call me or tell me when you are home safe...'

The rest of the message was cut off.

The name you had given him made you smile at the memory of him finding it. It was a few months into your relationship, even after the years together, you hadn't changed it.

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

"Why gorgeous? And a crown. " He frowned as he stared at your phone

"Because you're my gorgeous king." You kissed his cheek

"That's fucking cheesy as shit" He teased before you grabbed his phone

"Oh yeah, what's yours, then, huh?" You opened it, smiling at his lock screen of you before finding the contact and laughing "Baby with a red heart? And mine was cheesy"

"Shut up" He blushed before pining you down on the bed as you laughed.

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

When you glanced back up at the road, all you could do was gasp as yellow headlights blinded you. You tried to swerve but you just felt the car spin out of control on the wet road before the impact of metal hitting metal, the stretching, the boom of air bags, the smell of burnt rubber and the iron taste of blood.

Every nerve in your body screamed as your head felt heavy. Somehow, you ended upside down. You could hear a strangers voice, muffled like it was under water. A buzzing caught your attention as your phone lay broken on the road. Rafe’s face appearing on the screen, his gorgeous smile, broken and cracked as it showed he was calling. It was the last thing you saw before losing conciseness.

*-*-*-*

"Who the fuck are you?" Rafe asked as a male voice was on the other end of the phone.

"Calm down, son." The officer, on the other end, replied, "I'm officer Warron, now I need you to remain calm for moment."

Rafe dropped to the floor, holding his head as Officer Warron told him you had been involved in a road traffic accident and that you had been transferred to the General on the main land in crucial condition. They had contacted him as your mother had told them too, he needed to know. She couldn't bring herself to do it, and he was the last call on your broken phone.

He got to the hospital as quickly as he could, taking the Druthers as fast as it would possibly go. He almost forgot to pay the taxi before following the instructions your mother had messaged.

"Oh, Rafe!" Your tearful mother embraced him as he entered your room. He gently patted her back as he looked over to you.

You looked so broken and fragile in the bed, hooked up to a million machines. He just stared feeling completely numb.

"I know, it looks scary, but they said the surgeries went well. They put. They put her in an induced coma to, to help the healing." Your mother stumbled over her words. "She can hear you"

All Rafe could do was nod before your mother gave him a sad smile. "I'll give you two a moment," she moved to kiss your cheek before speaking to you. "I'm just going to update your dad, sweetie. Rafe's here. He's here."

They both could have sworn your heart beat raised a little at her words before she left.

Rafe stumbled into the seat next to your bed and shakily took your hand. "Shit, baby. I don't. I don't even know what to say, " He whispered. "I'm so sorry. Fuck..."

He suddenly broke down, his head on your arm as he sobbed. The only sounds filling the room were the beeping of your machines and his broken sniffles.

#rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks #rafe x reader #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe request

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brbsoulnomming · 9 months

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Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 7

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Eddie doesn't know why he can't just shut his mouth.

Well, no.

He does know why, and it's because he talks to distract himself, to make himself sound confident and in control and not afraid at all. Fuck, he's terrified right now, and walking by Steve's side and yammering at him helps, even if he kind of thinks he should have stuck more to Ozzy Osborne and less to Nancy Wheeler. The way Steve's looking up ahead at Nancy after Eddie had commented about her true love worthy actions is - complicated in a way that Eddie, if he's honest, never expected to see on Steve Harrington's face.

Eddie'd kind of always figured that the guy had maybe four emotions and not a whole lot else going on under that hair. He feels bad about it now, now that Steve's walking by his side in hell barefoot and bare chested, the copper scent of his blood still marred and fouled by the strange ichor of the demon bats whenever Eddie leans in too close to him, wearing Eddie's vest better than Eddie himself ever has.

For your modesty, Eddie had said, as though it wasn't really for the sake of Eddie's sanity. As if he wasn't tempted by all that bare skin for more than one reason, as if it wasn't mostly because of the dim light and the grime that he hadn't caught more than a handful of the words inked on Steve's skin, the way he'd been staring.

As if he wasn't doing his best not to still stare. He knows there's come on, I didn't even do anything this time on Steve's bicep, knows it sounds like exactly something he said and lied about. Knows there's oh yeah, Jessie's real cute, legs for days somewhere on Steve's chest, and he's trying to think about something else besides the way it makes him scramble to remember if Jessie was one of the many girls he'd pretended to have a crush on.

Something else. Anything else.

Absurdly, he wonders if there's still demon bat blood and flesh between Steve's teeth, if Eddie could taste it as well as smell it if he kissed him.

"It doesn't matter. Nancy and I aren't soulmates," Steve says quietly, yanking Eddie out of his own thoughts and back on to the topic at hand, which is -

Right. Steve and Nancy, not Steve and Eddie and bloody ichor kissing.

"How do you know?" Eddie challenges.

There's a measured, purposeful silence, and Eddie's eyes widen a little.

"Did you test it?" Despite his true love talk, he hadn't known Nancy and Steve were that serious, back in '84 - or maybe one of them just had something really specific on their skin, that let them know immediately.

Steve scoffs, though, lip curled up in the briefest sneer before he seems to give up. "Not intentionally."

Oh. That's - oh.

"Oh," he says lamely, unable to come up with anything else.

He thinks about asking did you ever go to the hospital, then? or is this what you were trying to protect me from? because fuck, he wants, and he's in the middle of hell and he might as well throw it all in, but… what if it isn't him? Right now, Eddie thinks he'd rather hold onto the pretense that it is, that it could be, than know for sure.

Still a goddamn coward.

"She said she loved me," Steve says, once again snapping Eddie back into the conversation, and huh, he's going to have to remember that.

That Steve will talk, too, if Eddie's quiet long enough, if he gives him the space and shows him that he'll listen.

"Not all the time, but enough," Steve continues. "I believed her. But then - she said that we were just pretending. That it was all bullshit. Both of those things can't be true."

Eddie swallows. "I mean… yeah, sure they can. People can have a lot of feelings about things that are messy and don't make sense, right? Like she could love you and think what you guys were going through was bullshit."

Steve's quiet, and there's this look on his face like he wants so bad it's hurting him, and fuck, Eddie's heart aches. Then Steve seems to shake himself out of it.

"We've got more important shit to worry about, anyway. How're you holding up, man?"

Eddie blinks at him, thrown by the quick subject change. "Fine?"

Steve gives him a look, but - he isn't actually lying.

"Oh, you know, I'm terrified as shit and I feel like my legs are jello and my lungs are about to give out, but at least the murderous mob can't find me down here and I'm not in this alone anymore, so, you know. Things are looking up."

That gets Steve to give a little amused huff, at least, one corner of his mouth turned up in a little smile before his expression goes contemplative. "Maybe I should talk to them."

"Uh." Eddie stares at him. "To who?"

"Carver and the rest of the team. I mean, I don't really know the freshmen, but the older guys seem to be the ones leading the charge anyway."

Yeah, no, that still isn't making any more sense, and he raises an eyebrow. "And you're just. Gonna waltz up and ask them nicely to call off the freak hunt? Jesus fucking Christ, man, are you serious with this?"

The look on Steve's face tells him that yes, he is, and -

"Nope, no, uh-uh, I cannot overstate how bad of an idea this is, you - Buckley, Wheeler, a little help over here?"

The girls stop and turn to him practically in unison, and he waves a hand at Steve. "Stevie here thinks he should go have a nice chat with the mob out for my blood and tell them that he's ashamed of their behavior, and they should all go home and think about what they did."

"Hey!" Steve protests, in that harsh whispery tone that says he'd be shouting if he wasn't worried what attention that would draw. "That's not what I meant, geez, I just thought I could try to run interference with the guys on the basketball team."

Nancy and Robin exchange a look.

"I mean, it's not a terrible idea," Robin says, but she looks unsure about what she's saying.

"Of course it's a terrible idea," Nancy retorts. "Do you want to draw their attention to us?"

"I think their attention is already pretty drawn," Steve points out.

"To Eddie," Nancy replies. "What's the point of working to keep him hidden if we're just going to announce that we're involved with him somehow?"

Steve scowls. "How the fuck is Carver not a suspect, anyway? It was his girlfriend, then he's found at the scene of the crime with his friend's body, and he's still walking free and leading the crusade against someone else? That feels like basic detective work to me."

Eddie snorts. "Probably the same reason why your parties used to get busted up with a warning, but I got arrested for supplying the people who went to them."

He expects some blustering protest, especially when he sees Nancy's eyes cut to Steve with a wary resignation, but Steve just deflates a little.

"Oh." He looks over at Robin, giving her this little crestfallen expression with a searching eyebrow raised.

Robin's brows are pinched, and she shrugs at him, which apparently gives Steve the answer to whatever he was asking.

He turns back to them, shoulders squared. "So all the more reason I should talk to them. If he's getting by on that shit, then I can use the same thing to get him off your back."

Nancy looks at him all soft and contemplative, and for a moment Eddie has the horrifying thought that the back up he called for might actually be against him, but -

"It's still not worth the risk," she says firmly. "And we have more important things to worry about right now than Jason Carver."

Another earthquake strikes before Steve can attempt to continue the argument - if he was going to, anyway, Eddie'd seen the look of determination on his face but he's also seen the way he tends to ultimately defer to Nancy.

It doesn't really matter, he guesses, because the shaking is violent enough to knock them around - Nancy ending up held securely in Steve's arms and Eddie and Robin ending up hitting the ground.

Well, Eddie ending up hitting the ground, but for once his ability to throw himself around without thinking comes in handy, and he manages to catch Robin enough that she lands mostly on him.

There's a silent round of looks between the four of them, making sure they're all okay, and then they're off again.

"Hey, Eddie," Robin says as she comes up alongside him. "Thanks for the save."

Eddie huffs out a little laugh. "Steve just did the exact same thing."

Robin's expression goes a little scrunched. "He just threw himself on the ground and gave me an admittedly not very soft landing spot, but better than the Upside Down floor?"

"No, he - hey, shut up, I'm very comfortable - he came up to thank me for a save, too."

Her eyebrows shoot up, and then narrow contemplatively, gaze settling hard on Steve's back where he's walking with Nancy. "Oh did he. Your own personal thank you, huh?"

"Uh."

Eddie doesn't exactly know what to say to that. He'd fixated on Nancy to deflect from his own actions so he didn't have to process finally accepting his massive crush on Steve Harrington in front of the man himself, because she seemed like the obvious choice, but Robin had jumped in after Steve without a second thought, too, maybe she didn't appreciate not being singled out for a thank you.

She doesn't look unappreciated, though, she looks like she's mulling something over, a tentative little smile of amusement tugging at her lips before she looks back at him.

"Well, we both know what you did."

His eyes widen. No. There's no way she knows he's having horny soulmate thoughts about Steve Harrington, she can't -

"Making sure the kids didn't get in the boat?" she prompts. "Even though it meant that you had to come back out on the lake? Yeah, you can talk about being a coward all you want, but we see you."

Eddie flushes, grabbing for a piece of his hair to hide behind and immediately dropping it, considering it's still damp from lake water and Upside Down gunk. "Don't make me into something I'm not, Buckley."

He's not the hero in this. He's barely a party member. He's just - a companion they picked up for this particular quest because they had no other options. Eddie's got no illusions about where he stands in all of this, no matter how much he wants it to be different.

She rolls her eyes. "Well, it's still nice to have another almost adult in all of this. We actually outnumber the children, at least for now."

Eddie frowns. "How many children are involved in all of this?"

"Six," she replies. "A hoard of six of them that used to show up to irritate us when we were just trying to serve ice cream without getting screamed at by overheated mall rats; it was very annoying how many children Steve was friends with. Then I invited myself into their little party, but we kind of got Erica Sinclair involved too, so the numbers didn't exactly improve."

She pauses, then looks at him suspiciously. "You don't come with another child that we're going to have to watch out for, do you?"

He barks out a laugh. "No. The three youngest of my flock are already involved with all of this, it seems. The only thing I come with is blood thirsty jocks."

It comes out light and joking, the way he'd meant it to, but it still makes her look at him consideringly for a moment.

"No," he says, guessing what she's thinking.

"We would, you know, if you wanted us to," Robin tells him. "Steve's run interference with his old crowd before."

He opens his mouth to retort that he doesn't want them to, then snaps it shut, aware that would be a lie before he even says it. "It doesn't really matter what I want right now," he settles on. "Like Wheeler said, it's too risky."

Robin looks at him like she knows exactly what he was going to say, and he shifts his weight uncertainty, fiddling with his rings and waiting for her to call him on it.

She doesn't, though. She just gives a little hum, watching him for a moment longer before turning her focus back on the path ahead of them, calling out to Steve to ask him how much farther and getting into a shouty whisper fight about who needs to lower their voice.

And, well. That's the end of that, it seems, and they continue onto the Wheeler house to get their hands on Nancy's Wheeler's apparent stash of firearms. He tells himself that the warmth he feels is the satisfaction of having won that argument twice, and not from the fact that someone - that Steve Harrington - was ready to stand up for him despite the risk.

It's a good thing the lies he tells himself don't count.

Taglist: @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @affablevixen @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void

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Part 8

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steddie soulmates au #platonic soulmates stobin #soulmates au

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2amtechnicolor · 1 year

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We Need To Talk About Mahiru

Mahiru's second Trial is out and oh my god she just jumped up on my faves list. I love analyzing the MVs from different perspectives so I thought I'd give my 2 cents on Mahiru's character.

My vote: INNOCENT

The first thing I really feel the need to bring up is that people tend to ignore that Mahiru is actually very intelligent. There's multiple kinds of intelligence, and while she might not be "traditionally" smart in the linguistic sense, she's incredibly emotionally intelligent. She's a master of empathy and mood making and is an incredibly charming talker to the point you don't realize she's completely controlling the conversation. That being said, I genuinely don't think she uses her intelligence for malicious gains.

One of the theories going around with her first MV was that she was overbearing to the point of being abusive, while being oblivious to her own toxicity. Now after rereading and rewatching, I'm inclined to disagree. Her love may be seen as overbearing to some but we have not seen any explicit bad behavior towards her boyfriend. (Contrast with someone like Muu, who was revealed to have bullied as much as she was bullied herself). In my unpopular opinion, I genuinely think Mahiru was in a "healthy" relationship, at least on the surface.

[TW for discussions of death, murder, and fictional depictions of suicide]

[Side Note: One of the sticking points people have while saying "Mahiru was toxic" is that "Mahiru's relationship only lasted 16 days" which is blatantly not true when you check the translations for MV1. Day 1 takes place during college finals (mid-March-ish in JPN), Day 7 explicitly takes place in the summer, and Day 15 is New Year's Day (January). Mahiru's affection towards her boyfriend lasted almost a year, and they dated for around 6 months-ish during that. The "16 Day Memorial" isn't about a period of 16 days, it's about 16 days over the course of their relationship where she was explicitly making moves towards her boyfriend.]

I need you to take a real hard look at how Mahiru talks about "love" and "being in love." More specifically, when she talks about the concept of "love," she often brings up the action of "loving/showing love" in her explanation. Never once have I heard her say "My boyfriend loved me." or "This is what my boyfriend did for me." The focus is all on her actions towards the boyfriend. And I genuinely think she was a sweet girlfriend! She loved trying his hobbies and cooking his favorite foods and going to his favorite spots. She was sweet, and kind, and playful, and maybe just a bit clingy. But she was never jealous or possessive.

Es: I see. So, you became a murderer as a result of some relationship conflicts? Jealousy… Grudges… Having your partner stolen from you… Those stories aren’t all that uncommon now are they?

Mahiru: You’re wrong. It wasn’t that. I…never even wanted to kill anyone in the first place!

She explicitly states that her crime was not based off of negative feelings towards her boyfriend, but she still takes responsibility for what happened. Compare that to Fuuta, who, despite his own feelings of guilt, continually verbally denied that he had anything to do with his victim's death. Mahiru not only takes explicit responsibility, but also pins her "love" as his cause of death, to the point where if she was voted guilty, she would never try to love anyone again. Without "loving" anyone, she has no reason to live.

"To not forgive me means to take the act of loving away from me. That’s the same as not being alive. It’s the same as not being able to drink water or breathe."

It's interesting the way she compares basic needs to "the act of loving". Not the concept of "love" itself, but the act of showing someone love. If she is not allowed to show someone love, to her it's like suffocating, like dying of thirst, or maybe...dying of starvation?

Mahiru in her second MV may be dirty and barefoot with torn clothes, but the one thing she is not is starving. You could argue that "perhaps it doesn't show," but when compared to her boyfriend...

She's incredibly healthy.

And of course she's healthy! Her lovely boyfriend's been feeding her those bites of cake! So is the cake "love" then? But if the cake is love, why is her boyfriend, the one whose being "smothered," the one starving?

Feeding the cake doesn't represent "love." Feeding the cake also doesn't represent "the act of loving." Feeding the cake represents the boyfriend letting Mahiru "love" him. Does that make sense?

The boyfriend lets himself be vulnerable, he feeds pieces of himself to Mahiru for her to "love." But yet, he himself is starving.

...Have you even noticed Mahiru hates talking about herself?

It's evident from her first interrogation. Es can barely get two words in before Mahiru interrupts them to ask them questions about themselves or to offer her own advice to problems she thinks Es may be having.

Es: Oh… yeah. Uh… I apologise for that.

Mahiru: Did you zone out just then? This job must be pretty difficult, so you might be mentally burned out from work. Herbal tea’s good for that, you know? Oh! Like ginkgo tea—they say it helps improve brain function.

Es: Oh, is that so? I’ll try a bit then… I mean, no! Enough about me.

Compared to one of the few times Es gets a question in:

Es: I don’t completely understand what you’re saying, but… Being in love and loving someone—are they really that important?

Mahiru: They are.

Es: Hm.

Mahiru: They are… More so than anything else.

When reflected back to her, her answered become short and vague. Her voice grows soft and shy. She avoids questions, especially questions about difficult topics, not because she doesn't understand the gravity of them (like Haruka) but because she does. Like I said at the top, she's incredibly emotionally intelligent. She was beaten nearly to death because Kotoko decided to be Es's "fang", and yet she still empathizes with them. She still makes a strong attempt to see their point of view, and even to encourage Es to keep working hard. Compared to the other attacked prisoner we've seen, Fuuta, who blames and grovels for forgiveness, these responses are like night and day.

But what do we know about Mahiru, really?

She's 22

She's a university student

She likes romantic novels, comic, and dramas

She loves love. [But she's not obsessed with being loved. Haruka is obsessed with being loved, Haruka wants to be loved and taken care of, Haruka killed out of jealousy and for attention because he didn't feel loved enough. We never get that from Mahiru.]

Everything else we know about Mahiru? Is for other people.

Her favorite hobbies? Whatever her partner is doing.

Her fashion sense? Whatever will catch her partner's eye.

Her favorite food? Well, as long her partner cooks it, anything's her favorite!

The only time we ever get a sense of her and her boyfriend possibly disagreeing on something is Day 14 in MV1. Mahiru wants to see a French film and begs her boyfriend to take her. This is odd, because just a few scenes ago, she was bragging about how their tastes in films perfectly line up. If their tastes are the same, why would she have to beg him to take her to see this one?

Mahiru, like Yuno, is hiding behind a facade. But unlike Yuno, Mahiru doesn't have a strong core underneath her mirroring. Yuno can drop her "nice girl" act and she still has strong opinions and feelings and acts accordingly. Mahiru, when you try to go behind her mask, clams up, redirects, searches for a way out.

So. Back to cake.

The boyfriend feeds pieces of himself to Mahiru. He makes himself vulnerable, he lets her in, lets her care for him, lets her "love" him.

But Mahiru? She never feeds him until the very end, and even then, her "cake" isn't anything edible.

She's not stupid. She knows she can't give him what he really wants: any sort of vulnerability.

Their relationship is one-sided, but not because Mahiru is toxic or the boyfriend is apathetic. Their relationship is one sided because that's how Mahiru wants it to be. She wants to be the perfect girlfriend, because, if we're being honest, Mahiru doesn't like herself very much.

Why else would she hate talking about herself? She clearly loves to chat.

She puts her all into everything...as long as it's for someone besides her.

She will outright ignore her own pain and suffering, her own emotions, because she doesn't want to make anyone else upset.

Mahiru: Sorry… for making you worry. I’m fine! It doesn’t hurt at all.

Es: It’s a horrible injury. There’s no way it doesn’t hurt.

Mahiru: It doesn’t!

So why did her boyfriend die?

Mahiru's very good at hiding her emotions. If she slipped up and her boyfriend realized and noticed how she refused to love herself, it could cause friction in their otherwise perfect relationship.

Maybe Mahiru was the one who wanted to die in the woods, and her boyfriend, starved for any sort of real connection to her, found her at the last moment? Maybe her mental health dragged his down with her.

Mahiru's incredibly complex and tragic and endlessly relatable. She only loves too much because she can't love herself. If she's truly unforgivable, and she keeps her promise to stay alone...what's stopping her from killing the only thing she hates most?

#milgram #mahiru shiina #this is how to be in love with you #character analysis #i love you #daisuki #meta #deco*27 #milgram project #mahiru innocent #i log into the milgram fandom #i post a 1.5k word essay #i leave for another 5 months #lux talks

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bettyshoweduptotheparty · 9 months

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Eras tour thoughts, part 3: Burning the Lover house

So, after my Anti-Hero/Matilda theory, here's another brain dump of thoughts on style choices for the Eras tour, now that the first leg has officially finished and we are on the international leg of the tour. Warning, this is bit of an essay...

This part is about maybe the most glaring visual choice of the whole tour, one that pretty much every swiftie has picked up on: The burning of the Lover house. I've seen a lot of confusion in the fandom about this and some theories about how this could represent 'burning down' her old work as she releases the re-recordings or making space for new albums because the house is full if every room represents an era.

In terms of gaylor theories I've only seen one and that is THIS one by @keepingsecretstokeepyoutk (I hope you don't mind me borrowing your theory for this post). It's a brilliant theory that burning the house is another step on the road to coming out and I'd like to extend this with a few observations on my own.

Firstly, I'd agree that the midnights cover image of Taylor holding the lighter was definitely a sign that something was going to get burned before the tour even started. Even with the midnights songs themselves, if we think of it as a journey of stepping into the daylight, the songs on this album are definitely pretty gay and only one song with he/him pronouns. But back to the lover house...

True to my TRUE Lover

So the lover house to me has always represented her public relationships, it's not where her real lover lives and that is for two reasons:

The OG lover house is in a snow globe (see lover mv) so it is to be displayed/looked at but not to be actually lived in. And

Maybe most importantly, the house doesn't have a kitchen. In all of Taylor's music the centre of her domestic life/the place where her lover is, has always been the kitchen. Dancing in the refrigerator light / barefoot in the kitchen/ you're in the kitchen humming, and so many more. Not to mention that her actual love story literally started with the line 'your kitchen or mine...' So yeah, the absence of a kitchen in the lover house has always been pretty telling to me, that this is the 'love's for show' house and her true lover is somewhere else.

What happens to the house during the Eras tour?

So not surprisingly, the house first appears during the lover era set which is the opening act of the tour. Notably though, it isn't furnished and 'lived in' anymore like it was in the lover mv, it's empty and the lovers have very clearly moved out. It's also not night time anymore, it's now daytime and the sun is shining in through the windows:

The only person we see in it, is Taylor in a yellow dress in the pink bedroom where she climbs into the big mirror and disappears. The first 'burning' then occurs at the end of the set, during the transition to fearless era. The last song of the set is the Archer, during which golden arrows fly around on the stage that form a ball of light that explores into a cascade of sparkling rain that sets the house on fire.

It doesn't really burn like a normal house fire though, it just stands in the rain of sparks, looking almost peaceful and golden. So much so, that she added a massive smoke effect to drive home the message that the house really is burning. Look how much smoke there is:

So at the end of the lover era, the contents of the house and a few of the walls have burned, but the house is still pretty much intact. It can be repaired. And that's pretty spot on for the actual lover era, which was meant to be her coming out era, but ended up just being a nice gentle golden (aka pastels and rainbows) fire that left some damage to her straight image but could ultimately be repaired and the public bearding continued. Keep that in mind, because we now don't see the house again until way later in the show.

1989 - Now it really burns

During the 1989 set (which is the second to last in the show) there is a ton of fire imagery, starting with the flame in the hand and the bed on fire during Wildest dreams and then finally, during Bad Blood, the final song, we see the house again looking a bit charred. Now, this is where things get interesting. We see Taylor walking in wearing Karlie's 2014 VSFS outfit, full strut and including the flick of the cape as she sits down at the vanity. She then flicks a match at the floor and the rooms lights up in blue flames.

So despite this being Taylor, I think the outfit and the strut make it pretty clear that this is Karlie who is lighting the house on fire again. And I think now in hindsight we can safely assume that this was foreshadowing Karlie showing up and setting in motion the events that follow. Even in the last few weeks since Karlie's appearance at the LA show, the fandom has been pretty much on fire over it, no matter what side of the fence you're on. And this time it's not a gentle sparkly rain, it's a blazing inferno, blue first, then it turns orange (or whatever colour normal fire is) before the house eventually collapses in a smoking heap and is gone for good.

video credit: ryan pily on YouTube

So...are we nearing daylight?

My interpretation is, that the blue flames indicate that 1989 TV will have a significant impact on this journey, and the different cover images that we have seen so far have confirmed that for me. They are all imitations of original 1989 era polaroids, but taken outside in broad daylight with seagulls flying freely and Taylor's face smiling on full display. They are also the first re-release covers that have the album title and Taylor's Version written on them so she wants her name on these, which feels significant. Now, I don't think that this will be the 'coming out era' or anything, I still think we are 12-18 months away from the end of this whole process, but I think Karlie showing up was a big shift in the story and I hope we'll be seeing a lot more of her and a lot less of any 'boyfriends'. But let's not forget that the general swiftie fandom still have a long way to go from 'she's straight and has only ever dated men' to 'she's been madly in love with the same woman for the last 10 years'. The house finally collapsing suggest to me that we are done with the bearding narrative, and tbh Taylor seems over it. She's been the happiest ever on this tour and didn't even attempt to look sad over her supposed breakup with Joe... I'm trying to collect my thoughts on how the remaining two re-release albums will further this journey, but it's all a jumble at this point. I wouldn't be surprised if tour visuals for the Asia/Australia/Europe leg of the tour change as time goes on to reveal more as we get closer to rep and debut re-release. And personally, I think that once the tour and all re-releases are done, we will get TS11 and that will be the gayest album yet, songs with she/her pronouns and all. 🤞😉

If you've made it all the way to here - Thank you indeed, you are a star!

(pictures and gifs not mine)

#gaylor #taylor swift #kaylor #gaylor swift #eras tour #1989 tv #the eras tour #lgbetty #lover house theory

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astronautforhalloween · 4 months

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Charon's Obol

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Gator Tillman x Reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You really didn't want to cover a shift at your new job. But when an old familiar face walks through the door, the night yields some unexpected results. Some more welcome than others.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Gator. Some hints to his misogyny, blood, canonical death. Not proofread, not written with the reader's gender specifically expressed but it is implied to be female (Gator refers to them as 'princess'). Gator does refer to reader as 'little bird', but it isn't a reference to height or body type. It's more so condescending.

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: 7.9k words. Might do a pt. 2? (If so, there will be some changes to Gator's character) The story takes place during the end of episode 2 but diverges at the end. Banner by @saradika

It had been a bit of a surprise when you watched him walk in through the taped up front door, glaring at Andy - someone whom you've learned to be a frequent regular - like the man had personally affronted him with his mere existence; his lip was curled in a sneer and there was a scoff waiting to be released from his chest while he stared the older customer down with an incredulous scowl. The same scowl that he's had since high school - looks like all that much hasn't changed. And you expected some sort of conflict, a quick shove to Andy's chest or a smart quip, though thankfully the interaction ended with Gator slipping past the regular. But not without roving a scathing glance across his body from head to toe as the man dipped out of the doorway.

He didn't even notice you behind the counter as he immediately set off in the direction of the restrooms, and a part of you was relieved for it. Sure, when you had been making plans to move back down here to assist your mother, you had briefly entertained that Gator was still living in Lehigh, even though your old childhood town was about a seventy-eight-mile drive from where she was living now. Before the move she used to give you all the local gossip during your daily phone call, and Gator had been a frequent focal point in the scoop of the day, with his bad behavior and quick temper. It seems that being on the police force has done nothing to teach him manners. If anything, from what you've heard, it's only amplified his complete lack of boundaries.

He had been passionate about football for a time, but then there had been that accident in mid-August back in senior year which left him favoring his right leg with a slight limp. From what you had heard through the grape vine way back when, he had also wanted to be a sheriff. To follow in his father's footsteps and protect Stark County like the previous men of his heritage had.

And if the big, white bold letters printed on his vest was any indication, it looked like he was working his way up to doing just that.

You had been taking shifts here at the gas station for about a week now. Had moved boxes packed full of your belongings from a U-Haul and into your room inside of your mother's new trailer home a week before that. But for some reason seeing him again seemed to solidify that you were actually back here in North Dakota after you had worked so hard to get out. It was like being shoved into a time machine and forced to a point in your life that you didn't want to return to. There isn't necessarily wrong with this state or the people who live here. It's just quiet, tight-knit, and everyone knows everyone. Secrets are difficult to keep here and evading bored, curious eyes can be difficult, if not impossible at times.

There wasn't anything here for someone your age, who had dreams and longed for something more than church potlucks and being barefoot and pregnant.

But now here you were. Reaching for the broom propped in the corner to sweep up a cluster of glass shards peeking out from underneath the bottom of the counter into a small pile. They seemed to be everywhere, no matter how hard you scanned the floor while you cleaned, more and more glass just seemed to pop up as soon as you thought you had gotten it all. You had even found a piece in the cash register when you were counting out a customer's change, and you nearly sliced your thumb on the damned thing. How it had it had managed to find its way in the till, you aren't sure. Though as frustrating as those little slivers are, you actually find yourself being thankful for them. It gives you an excuse to at least look busy instead of just awkwardly standing around, uncomfortably hyperaware that Gator Tillman is in the store.

You aren't even sure why you're so nervous about the thing. Yes, you and Gator had never been particularly close, and the interactions that you had were few and far between, mostly due to forced proximity because of your position on the cheer squad. But apart from the after-school activity that both of you participated in, you mostly had your own circles that you kept to, the two of them hardly ever merging. Based off of what you'd seen of him back then, he wasn't all that impressive. He was abrasive and cocky. A bully, to put it lightly, that liked to slam other kids against locker doors as he passed.

You didn't think much of him then. Just a guy who like to flaunt underneath his father's shadow and abuse the privileges of being the sheriff's son to taunt others. And you don't think much of him now, so you aren't sure why your gut is sinking like a nervous pit.

It isn't odd that he's here. Sure, the gas station is a short drive outside of Beulah which happens to be about an hour's drive from Lehigh. You suppose that it isn't completely wild to see him outside of his county, but for some reason it still catches you off guard, even if it was just a matter of time before you crossed paths. Whether that had been while you were out having dinner at one of the local restaurants or him walking in on one of your shifts. Though the kicker is, is that this isn't technically your shift. It was meant for Derreck, but he was unable to show up because he's no longer one of the living. You don't want to speak ill of the dead, especially one so recently passed, but you can't exactly say that you're all that surprised. Even with just your short interactions to base off of, he didn't seem exactly like he was the sharpest.

And when Miles called you just the night before, fretful over the state that the gas station was left in after a particularly horrendous break-in, explaining that Derreck was gone, that he had tried to scare an armed perpetrator with an airhorn of all things and got a chest full of bullets in response, you were horrified and regretful but not exactly shocked.

He had also mentioned something about an attempted kidnapping in between his worried rambling before he zigzagged back to the point of the call, which was trying to cover some of Derreck's shifts that had been left vacant due to his murder. Apparently, no one else was willing or able to cover them and that had left you as his last resort. You nearly said no. You weren't usually one to work the graveyard shift. You liked the peace that came with it, but your mother, despite her wanning health found old habits hard to break and was typically an early riser. Doing chores as early as 7 am; vacuuming and doing laundry or poking around in the garden behind the house. Which is roughly around the time that the nightshift ends. You knew that it would make falling asleep a task with how thin the walls are, but you couldn't find it in yourself to say no. Not even with your own fears of being shot while standing behind the register gripping you like a chill. And not with money so tight.

You could just picture him in your head, pacing around in his office underneath the oily glow of his desk lamp and you could hear that click-click of his teeth gnawing on his nails through the other end of the call. An anxious tick of his. And then there was the medical bills and the torn open envelopes declaring that bills were past due splayed out over the kitchen table. You had just been able to put some good money aside for those but there was still an intimidating amount that was owed and every bit of cash counts. Even with the pressures of debt and financial insecurity hanging down over you with an unbearable pressure, you hadn't been exactly psyched about accepting a solo nightshift at a recently burglarized (and that's putting it lightly) gas station. But you couldn't refuse. You hadn't told your mother about the tragedy that had taken place here. She never would have allowed you to leave the house for work this evening if she had. But it's just a matter of time before all the gossip finally reaches her ears; nothing ever remains a secret or quiet for long in small, sleepy towns. But fortunately, by the time she becomes to date the crime, you'll already be on your way home to take a shower and fall asleep in your bed.

The sound of one of the freezer doors slamming shut has you pausing to look up from the pile of glass and dirt on the linoleum and over to the back of the shared chip and candy aisle where Gator now shuffles around. You can just hardly make him out from behind the other shelves full of microwavable mac and cheese and Campbell's soup, but he appears to be idly scanning the rack of junk food with a bottle of pop in his good hand. The other, you've just noticed, seems to be fixed inside a cast and blue gauze bandaging. You wonder how he managed to get that injury.

Your curious little inspection doesn't stop there. You let your eyes sweep over him from his cap to his knees (which is about as far as you can see of him from the angle), and on their way down you take notice of the holster secured to his thigh. And for whatever reason your focus seems to settle there and just stay for a good breath or two. It looks good, those black straps wrapped and pulled tight around his thigh. In fact, he wears the entire uniform in way that you shouldn't find appealing. The weight of his vest seems to pronounce the slimness of his waist and the fatigues that mold around his hips are doing him nothing but favors. It's almost stupid. It's jarring. You have to tighten your grip on the broom handle, forcing yourself to look away to pin your gaze down on one of those solar powered bobble heads placed between the register and a mini shelf stocked full of Bic cigarette lighters.

But it's facing the wrong way. Instead, it's turned towards you. It's supposed to be cheery. A Christmas themed orange cat peeking out of a stocking with its head still steadily wobbling despite the fact that it's been sundown for more than a few hours now. Its cartoon smile feels judgmental. Like its criticizing your shameful ogling.

Seriously, since when have you ever checked out Gator Tillman?

Sure, a part of you had found him cute in the past. A surface level sort of attraction, with his pretty, round brown eyes. But it was never really enough to compensate for how crude he was. All packed full of harsh comments, inflamed bravado and plastic charisma; always searching for an excuse to fight. If anything, it garnered nothing pity from you. An awful aching sorrow. Especially whenever you could see something soft peeking out from underneath that boastful, sarcastic exterior of his. The potential to be kind. Sweet even, if it had been nurtured enough in him. But Roy Tillman was anything but nurturing.

The entire town had known how harsh the Tillman patriarch was on Gator, even though they all kept their mouths shut tight, in fear that he might raise his hand down against them instead. All of the split lips, black eyes and pulled muscles that were all conveniently filed away as mishaps caused by a wayward cow during a roundup on branding season.

Of course, your only excuse for not outright speaking out had been that you were hardly more than a child, busy saving up for your first car and writing out college admission essays. And the harsh, whispered warnings of your mother telling you to keep your nose out of things that aren't your business never helped. Not that you have ever been particularly well at heeding her advice. You had tried once, to reach out to him and let him know that he wasn't alone, one evening near the bleachers before graduation. Maybe you should have kept to yourself like everyone else had warned you to. To not get involved. But it was hard when Gator showed up to school one day with his right cheek swollen red and purple, the molted shades of plum and a nasty vermillion dotting up around the corner of his eye like a crescent. Seeing Gator banged up with a new cut or scrape wasn't a new development by any means. But all the excuses were getting old; wore you down even though they shouldn't have impacted you personally.

His cover for the swollen cheek was that he had gotten it during practice the evening before. But that was bullshit. He hadn't left the field swearing like he usually did whenever he got hurt during training. When Gator got hurt it was something that everyone would become uncomfortably aware of; usually by a string of loudly exclaimed expletives that could be heard reaching across the expanse of the field. There had been none of that. He didn't leave campus with an icepack clutched against his cheek the day before. He got that bruise when he went home that night. And you would have put good money on it that the one that did the damage was his father.

And despite all the warnings you told yourself that you would speak to him about it. That you'd try to at least. Your friends must have noticed the moment you decided to go and talk to Gator. Maybe they'd seen the glint of it in your eyes. And they had all told you not to. That it wasn't your place. That you'd best stay out of it. But you couldn't listen.

It took you the entire school day to build up the courage to approach him. To calm your nerves. You remember vividly how awkward the air around you had felt when you asked him to meet you behind the bleachers. It didn't escape you how flirtatious the invitation could have been construed as and you're sure that he was expecting some sort of sloppy make out underneath the grandstands and not an intervention. You're sure you had completely blindsided him when you had opened up the conversation with words of sympathy and not some flirty spiel. You had tried to be delicate about the whole thing. After all, for the most part the both of you were hardly more than acquaintances. You did your best to be gentle when you had offered to be someone that he could talk to if he ever felt like he didn't have anyone at home to confide in. But he had turned you down then with clear irritation in his eyes when he told you that he didn't need your help. That he didn't want it, and that was that.

Your eyes flicker back up to him from the bobbing fake cat, and he's moving down the aisle now, still browsing but apparently uninterested in the available chips and assorted junk foods. But he does reach for a bag of jerky from the cardboard display on the end of one of the shelves and his eyebrows perk up when he inspects the packaging, and he nods his head to himself like he's intrigued or pleased with what he's seeing.

You wonder if he'll even recognize you at all after all of the years. You suppose that it wouldn't be all that bad or unexpected if he didn't. It has been a while. The last time you've crossed paths since now had been a little after graduation, before you scrounged all of the money that you had saved by serving at Patty's Diner over the summer together and piled all of your stuff into your shitbox of a car and set off for the state line.

You finally allow yourself to let go of the broom, reluctant to release your little lifeline in preparation to scan his items, propping it against the wall behind you. But what you hadn't expected for him to do was to quite literally toss his bag of beef jerky at the counter. The throw seemed lazy, but regardless of that, the jerky almost goes flying off the countertop entirely and rushes towards the edge. You have to scramble to catch it, mostly out of reflex, grabbing at the packaging with clumsy hands before it could land on the pale, dirty tiles and next your feet.

Even with unease prickling at the nape of your neck you can't curb the displeased scowl from making an appearance. And the look that you pin him with is entirely unimpressed. He, on the other hand, doesn't look apologetic in the slightest. In fact, there's a smile curling at the edges of his mouth and his eyes are sparkling underneath the fluorescents with unrestrained mirth. "Oh, sorry there, " he says with the hint of a laugh on his words. "I forget my strength sometimes, ya know."

You should have let it fall.

You don't bother entertaining his joke. You just flip the package of Jack Links over so that you can scan the bar code while he sets his drink down on the counter. You've interacted for less than five seconds and you're already remembering why you didn't care for him all that much in high school. But luckily for you, he hasn't seemed to recognize you and all you have to do is cash him out and he'll be on his merry little way.

You can smell his cologne once he's up against the counter. It's woody, a sort of musk and there's hints of something warm with a few notes of vanilla. It seems he's graduated from layering his body with Axe body spray, thank God for small favors. He used to wear that cologne like it was a repellant. "You can smell him before you see him," your mother had noted once, after he had walked past the both of you one afternoon during a communal chili festival. And she hadn't been wrong. But now you can also pick up something artificial and sweet coming from him too. Like berries or some other kind of fruit. Watermelon, maybe?

"Eight dollars and thirty-eight cents." You supply after ringing in his bottle of pop, leaning your weight on your hands. And thankfully, he already has his wallet out and is thumbing through the bills, but his attention keeps jumping from between his cash and back up to you like he's trying to piece something together. And you're hoping that he isn't trying to place you. That the memories are too vague, that he didn't care enough to remember you. That this interaction won't have to be any longer than necessarily.

His eyes brows are pinched, and he almost looks studious when he hands you a ten. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"I don't think so, " you respond quickly, punching the given amount into the register and counting out his change as soon as the till pops open.

But he doesn't seem to be deterred. He even shakes his head just a bit, unconvinced and squints at you like it might help him take in your features better. "Nah, I know ya from somewhere."

"I'm not so sure, " you say and hold your hand out, offering his money, but he doesn't take it and just continues to stare at you silently. It's awkward. Tense for no reason. Suddenly, the music playing over the speakers is too loud. Some old country song with warbling vocals and a gentle guitar but it does nothing to ease the weird energy that's dipped over the room. You can hear the fluorescents too. Buzzing above you in a steady, pulsing thrum.

"I'm sure. " He replies, voice low with concentration and his eyes dance over your face. The shape of your chin, tracing the curve of your lips, roving over the swell of your cheeks before settling on your own gaze. You can see the exact moment that he recognizes you. Something seems to spark in his stare. The elation that comes with recalling something that's been on the forefront of your mind but eludes you at every turn, and he exclaims your name with a sort of surprise and maybe even wonder. "I never forget a face! C'mon, don't tell me you don't recognize me."

He settles down against the counter, crossing his arms to lean his weight against its surface like moving in closer might help you recall him better, toeing the line of almost closing in too close to your personal space. You briefly entertain the idea of continuing on with your ruse. Of playing dumb, even if it's just to frustrate him. But really, you'd rather this little impromptu meeting only be as long as it has to be, and you find yourself nodding. Feigning a sort of awe, pretending to a put a name to a long-buried memory.

"Oh, yeah. " You nearly gasp in faux surprise. "Gator! Gator Tillman."

He smiles in a pleased way, rapping his knuckles against the counter. "What the hell are you doin' here? I heard you ran off to uh . . . which was it?" He snaps his fingers together like it'll help him recall the information better, or tries to, but his fingertips sort of just slip against each other uselessly from around the obstruction of the cast. " Arkansas?"

"Arizona, " you correct. And you give up, placing his change on the counter in front of him for him to pick up whenever he decides to take it.

'That's the one. " He agrees. "So, what brings you back? Got tired of all the dirt and heat, huh?"

"Uh, no, I'm just here to help my mom." You say and reach for a stack of sticky notes to absentmindedly flick through. "Do you need a bag?"

"Oh, yeah, how is she doin'?" He asks, completely ignoring or unhearing your question. You'll take that as a no then. "I haven't seen her in a bit. Not since she moved."

"She's . . . doing okay." You shrug, glancing off in a random direction, hopeful that training your focus on something else other than him might make you feel less exposed. Less examined. It doesn't. "Could be better, could be worse."

He hums in agreement and for a moment falls silent. And you think that maybe the conversation has fallen out. Run its course and he's grown bored past the temporary marvel of reconnecting with a familiar face from the past. But that'd be too easy. "It's been about, what? Nine years, give or take since we've last seen each other."

Dammit.

"Yeah, that sounds about right." It's a simple response. And you let it settle at that, just wishing that he'll take the hint and leave. He has to be somewhere to be, right? Patrolling or whatever. He's probably on his way back to his county, surely, he doesn't plan on standing here all night, chatting you up. But to be fair, he's never been particularly adept at reading basic social cues.

"To be honest, I'm surprised they got you workin' this shift. " He nods his head towards the front doors; covered up with cardboard and a plastic sheet as a temporary means to keep it sealed until it could get properly repaired. "Ya know, with the break-in an' all."

"Yeah, well no one else volunteered, so I agreed to come in."

"A little bird like yourself, here all alone." He says it casually. Probably doesn't really mean anything behind it, but knowing Gator, maybe he does. But regardless of his intent, the comment does make you bristle. The sentiment wasn't necessarily harmful. Feeling worried for someone being on their own to work a shift at a business in the middle of nowhere is normal. Understandable. Especially considering that the said business had just been the scene of gruesome crime, but the air with how it was said rubbed you the wrong way. Granted he's never been one to have tact.

It seems that he really hasn't changed all that much since you've left. Except for maybe growing an inch or so taller, but that could be due to the boots. And the planes of his face have slimmed a bit more, having officially lost what little bit of baby fat was clinging to his cheeks. Still, that condescending air that he used to carry himself with has seemed to survive his younger years, not like you were expecting it not to.

"You must be pretty scared being here all on your own. " He wasn't wrong, per se. There was something intimidating about being here with the horror of what had taken place still fresh in the back of your mind. You hadn't seen the aftermath and all of the smeared blood and shattered glass; you hadn't been here with Miles to meet the cleanup crew. In a twisted sort of way, it almost seems worse that you didn't walk in on this place when it was still stained with viscera and signs of struggle. Seeing the store all taped up with shotty repairs to try and regain normalcy left too much to the imagination. Everywhere you looked your brain tried to fill in the pieces. You couldn't bear to clean up the restroom. Not without thinking about how a man had died in there. Slipped and split his head open on the toilet. There was still a sense of paranoia that latched its claws down your back and has yet to let go. It even has you looking at some of your customers funny - even the regulars, the people who you talk to almost daily. It was even worse when you reminded yourself that Derreck had died in the very spot where you're currently standing.

"No, not really. " You lie easily.

Gator laughs. Almost scoffs, really. Dipping his head low and for a moment the brim of his baseball hat blocks half of his face from your view before he tips his head back up to look at you. He rocks back on the heels of his shoes. "Well, I just gotta say, it doesn't sit right with me."

What?

He's worried? Why would he even care?

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

He doesn't seem to be persuaded or assured, and he sits up from his leaned over position, straightening to his full height. He doesn't break eye contact once, and for some reason you feel like you couldn't look away from him, even if you gave it some real effort. The dark brown of his eyes is a rich shade, even from underneath the blunt glow of the fluorescents, and you swear you can see delicate flecks of a honeyed amber.

" That may be, but I'm not a man to take chances." And he reaches into one of his front pockets to retrieve a lime green vape for him to lift to his lips. When he nonchalantly exhales the smoke in the middle of the store, the scent of something syrupy and sweet reaches your nose. That explains that bit of watermelon that you had smelt on him earlier. "I mean, anyone could be a threat. Even that fella that was just in here."

Your eyebrows raise at the comment and for a moment you just stare at him while you wrack your brain. "Do you mean, Andy?" You ask, thinking back on the outright rude way that Gator had glared at the regular. "No, he's fine. Possibly in need of an AA meeting, but he's always nice. Sometimes he brings his girls in for a drink . . . a fountain drink. Not . . . alcohol. "

"Those are the ones you gotta watch out for the most." He presses, taking one more drag from his vape before stuffing back into his front pocket. "It's always the one's ya know."

You aren't sure how to respond to this. How to reciprocate the conversation now that this is the direction that it's taken. You aren't sure where this apparent desire to keep you safe has come from. It's certainly something that you've never experienced before. Or fully witnessed. Even the protectiveness that he had shown his teammates back in high school seemed to come from a place of ego. It always came off that he had some sort of point to prove; that he could take a hit or get even if need be. That he saw his friends as an extension of himself, and by taunting or harming one of them was as good as personally offending him. And he couldn't stand for that. But you'd like to believe that it came from somewhere genuine at least.

"You should take my number. "

He says it so casually that it throws you off more than the previous statement did, except this time your outright gawking at him. There's only one reason why Gator Tillman would want your number, but you can't for the life of you figure out why he would be trying to flirt with you. You aren't even sure how to feel about the situation. You never would have assumed that he, of all people would have an interest in you. Yes, in the past you had caught him giving you intrigued glances when he thought you weren't paying attention. Especially whenever you had been in your cheerleading uniform, but you had never put much stock in it; usually equating his wandering eyes on him just being an obnoxious teenage boy. "Is this your way of asking me out?"

He shrugs lightly at that and raises a hand to grip onto the shoulder of his tactical vest. "I just want to make sure you have someone to call in case anyone gives you a hard time, that's all."

Sure, bud. That might be one of the lamest excuses you've heard in a while. And that's saying a lot considering the last time a man tried to flirt with you he had unironically used one of the worst pickup lines you may have ever heard, something along the lines of; "kiss me if I'm wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?" And Gator's apparent inability to upfront about his intentions makes you want to mess with him a bit.

"Wait . . . don't I already have your number?"

He looks confused, face twisting up dumbly and the pinched, clueless furrow between his brows is almost adorable. You can see his fingers already twitching, reaching for the vape stashed in his pocket out of habit. Like the nicotine might help him think better and you can see the gears in his mind turning, but you can tell that he's coming up empty.

You tilt your head, propping your chin up in the cradle of your hand. "It's 911, right?"

The realization that you're playing with him finally clicks into place, and he glances away from you with a small scoff. His clear frustration just amuses you further and he takes notice of your obvious enjoyment if the way that his frown deepens is anything to go by.

"Besides, aren't I a little out of your jurisdiction?" You ask and start to fiddle around with the bottle of unattended Mtn Dew, rotating the carbonated drink around within the cradle of your palm with the push of your fingertips.

"Jurisdiction, " he echos the word with a sort of repulsion, before he fixes you with an oddly intense look that feels like its burrowing into you. "I am the law; I do whatever the fuck I want."

Like most things during this little conversation of yours, you aren't entirely sure how take that remark. The passion and utter belief that he said it with was more than a little concerning. The way that he truly seemed to think that he was above the laws that he was meant to enforce. It was a dangerous mindset to have. Especially in his profession, with all the power that he held as an officer, even while he was within the confines of such a small county. Well, not small in terms of size or milage, but it's not like he's a cop in some big city. But who knows, maybe that just makes him even more dangerous. Everything about him was the clear-cut definition of a walking red flag, so you don't even understand why you're sitting here entertaining his bullshit.

At least you're getting paid for it.

"What do you really want with my number, Gator?" You know why, of course, as odd and confusing as it all is, but you want to hear it from him.

And just as you expected, he falls silent. Having some sort of internal debate and struggle. And you wait for him to get annoyed and leave, throwing some sort of scathing remark over his shoulder as he goes, but he doesn't do that. Something in the way he holds himself relaxes, and it seems like some half-assed way to come off as unaffected. Probably a way for him to psyche himself out mentally and project self-assuredness. He steps closer to the counter until his hips are brushing against the edge and there's an impish kind of gleam in his eyes. Something about the dynamic seems to shift; you can feel it move and click into place and it makes you feel untethered. Like you're walking on rocky, unexplored terrain. And you aren't sure if you like it.

"Surely you know, " he says with the hint of playful but if not cocky smile on his lips. And now it's your turn to look up at him in confusion. "I'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but I've always harbored a bit of a crush for ya."

Well, that's something that you wouldn't have guessed. You never would have successfully gathered that on your own, that's for certain. And it threw you off even more, considering that for the last leg of senior year, he was a part of an on-again-off-again relationship with Rebecca Mallory. Granted their relationship had always seemed to be in a constant state of a crisis with the way that they had always butted heads. Mostly because Rebecca was a rigid, set-in-her-ways Christian who was often displeased with Gator's penchant for violence and swearing. Not that she was necessarily wrong for her frustrations. Even with his own father being a preacher with an iron fist, Gator never been the most forgiving or restrained person and you figured that being around him for more than an hour would probably be quick to grate on your nerves, too.

"I, uh, no, I didn't know that." You manage, unsure how to navigate this newfound revelation. In all honesty, you had figured that his previous request for your number had just been an attempt to ease his boredom. A way to enjoy the excitement of meeting up with an old acquaintance - and knowing him - assuming that he might get lucky in the process.

"It always bugged me that I never grew the balls to make a move in the past." He confesses, and he leans over the counter again. And with the way that you're also propped up on your elbows it leaves only a few inches separating the two of you. You swear you could feel the heat radiating off of his body brushing against your own skin. The sudden proximity seems to vacuum all of the air out of the room, and your mind scrambles to catch up. He can see the way that you're floundering underneath his stare. You can see the amusement twinkling in the dark brown of his eyes from underneath the bright, pale splash of the long florescent bulbs. "And then you went and moved out after graduation. Up in a hurry to leave this little shithole - not that I blame ya, mind you; but it always left me wondering how you would have responded if I had asked you out on a date."

The quiet that follows is stifling. For a moment it's just the both of you alone, in a grimy busted up gas station in the middle of nowhere with an upbeat Beach Boys song playing over the sound system. It feels laughably too energetic for the still but charged atmosphere that surrounds you and stalls your lungs. That keeps your focus pinned to his with the pleasant musk of his cologne wafting over you; sweetened by the sugary notes of vape smoke.

"I think I would have said no, " you say truthfully. You can see the way his shoulders go slack. The movement is so minute that you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't so close to him. His head tilts back like he means to pull away and for some reason your stomach flips with disappointment at the thought, but you don't bother trying to unpack that feeling right now. "But . . . "

He pauses, attention zeroing in on you and you swear you might actually see something akin to hope somewhere in his expression. "But, what?" He asks when you don't immediately respond.

"Convince me."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

He stares at you like he doesn't know what to think. His mouth is hanging open just a bit and he laughs, though it comes out as more as a disbelieving puff of air. And you can see him going through the motions of it in his head, like he's trying to solve something. But he seems to come to some sort of conclusion. His shoulders square up like he's accepting it as a sort of challenge. " Alright, " he agrees, and settles back against the counter. "I'll treat ya real good; take you out the dinner. You ever been to Twister's?"

"No, " you answer, and the look he gives you is pitying, but one that's lively and not mean-spirited. It throws you for a loop to see him so carefree and relaxed. Typically, the jokes that come from him are underhanded barbs, meant to make someone uncomfortable or angry rather than a means to actually get a laugh. But you like it. It's as pleasant as it is unexpected and all of that initial unease and irritation that you had previously felt towards his presence begins to thaw.

"The best food in North Dakota." He praises and you hum in interest and nod, quietly ushering him to continue, even though the gesture is a little condescending it's also playful.

"One of the guys at the station said they got a new drive-thru theater over in Bismarck. They show old classics mostly- shitty B movies and low budget horror flicks, but I think they're plann' on playin' one of those old stop motion films; Nightmare Before Christmas, I think. For Halloween, probably."

Admittedly, it doesn't sound like a bad date. And as cliche as the idea of a theater may have been, it has your interest piqued. Especially the drive-thru part. It's been on your bucket list for a while now, and the prospect of going is more than a little enticing. Especially with how stagnant and stressful life has been as of late. It would be nice to go out again and get away from the monotony of life at home and work. And truthfully, a part of you is a little intrigued to get to know Gator again after all the time away. To see if maybe he has changed and matured a bit as a person. But you also don't want to give in too soon. Admittedly, you do like to string him along, as wrong as it may be.

"Then afterwards, we could maybe go ice skating, " he offers. "It's been a few years since I've worn a pair of skates, so I might be a little rusty. But I figure it's gotta be like riding a bike."

"Sounds tempting, " you say with a smile that you couldn't help. "And after that?"

It takes him a second, but he quickly seems to catch on to what you're implying. His gaze seems to darken, that honeyed brown turning russet and warm. He tips in closer to you; you nearly feel the bill of his cap brush against your forehead. "Well, that depends on you, princess. "

You don't say anything, letting him stew in the potential of rejection. And you reach over to your left, plucking a Sharpie from an old, chipped mug that's used to store miscellaneous pens and highlighters; there was even an old cherry flavored lollipop that's been in there since you've started working here, and you've got the feeling that it's probably been in there for more than a few years. He tracts the movement with open curiosity but raises his focus to you when you reach for his injured arm with your free hand, though he doesn't fight or question you when you pull it over across the counter towards your chest, careful not to accidentally put any strain on it.

And when you pop the cap off with your thumb and raise the point of the marker to his cast it suddenly feels like you're being put under a microscope again. You can feel his attention searing into with an intensity that should be uncomfortable. But you find that you don't completely mind it. Not even with that bobble headed plastic cat awkwardly bouncing in the corner while you write out your phone number on the inside of his wrist.

"I'm free on Saturday. " You say, capping the marker and plopping it back inside the mug.

He's outright smiling now. It's a little smug, pleased, but there's also something content about it. "Sounds like a plan, " he replies, and reaches for his jerky and drink, stepping away from the counter without turning away from you. Walking backwards towards the exit. "How's five o'clock sound?"

"Works for me." You return his smile, unable to fight it off. And there's a sappy, fuzzy feeling inside of your chest that's going to mean nothing but trouble for you in the future.

"I guess I'll see ya then." He's nudging the door open with his back and pauses almost like he's reluctant to leave but then he's slipping out the door with a quick, "g'night!" tossed over his shoulder. You barely get to return your own before the door swings shut behind him, blocking you from seeing him with the cardboard plastered over in place of glass. And now that he's left, the store feels all too quiet with only the old, tired speakers to keep you company and the ragged hum of the wall freezers in the back of the store.

You glance around the room boredly, stepping back from the counter while you mentally go down the to-do list. Finding that you've already done most of your tasks. The delivery truck wasn't due for a few more days, and you finished up all of the necessary stocking a few hours ago. And you've already squeegeed the remaining windows clean and organized the shelves. But you hadn't cleaned the restroom yet.

You suck in a ragged breath. You were less than enthused to clean the toilet on a regular day, but now that it had been the scene of a crime and a literal death you were more than unhappy with prospect. But unfortunately, it was a part of the job description. And it's an absentminded glance downward that you notice the change that Gator had left discarded on the counter. A crumpled dollar and some change. Just a measly dollar and thirty-two cents. He probably forgot about it, and even if he hadn't it was such a small amount that it wouldn't be missed. But you figured that there isn't any harm and giving it back to him. If you go now, he might still be parked outside.

And that was enough for you to scoop up the change in your palm and run around the length of the front desk, crossing the expanse of the floor quickly and shoving the door open to cross outside. The cold night air that rushes across your skin surprises you for a moment after spending the last few hours underneath the heat of the store, but it doesn't deter you. And a quick glance to the passenger side lets you know that the cab of police cruiser is empty, and you stare at it dumbly for a second before you notice Gator standing off to the left, near the rear end of the truck.

And you don't even notice the fact that his gun is drawn, that his body is pulled taut; clearly on edge while he stares down at the ground with wide eyes.

"Hey, Gator!" You call, stepping forward with a smile on your face. His head snaps up when he hears you, and there's a wild sort of glint in his eyes that jerks something deep in your chest, jostles free a heavy, chilling sort of concern and worry.

"No, no - don't come over here!" He shouts with a horrific sense of panic that you feel in your bones. But it's already too late. You've come too close, and when you walk past the rear end of the truck to step towards him you notice some strange lump lying on the ground from out of your peripheral vision. And in a kneejerk reaction it seizes your attention, pulls your focus to it like it's being tugged by a string. It's the blood you notice first. Pooled across the dirt and glittering a rich red from oily shine of lights on the ceiling of the gas pump canopy. It's pouring from a slice in the body's neck. But what's more is a piece of cardboard pinned to his chest, notched in place by a thick hunting knife. Your mind sort of just goes quiet. Unable to grapple with what it's actually seeing even while you can't look away.

You can smell the blood. It's a thick, nauseating scent, like sucking on pennies and rust and you want to gag. You want to vomit. Or scream. Or anything.

But you can't manage to make yourself move. You're stuck frozen; forced to stare. The change in your hand feels damp with sweat and you're clutching it so tightly that you can feel that coins burrowing painfully into the palm of your hand. Even from where you stand you can make out the messy writing written on the cardboard in an ominous, messy scrawl:

You owe me

And finally. Blessedly, you're able to tear your gaze away from the body. Stiffly turning your head from the carnage and over towards Gator who looks just as shaken as you. His gun is still drawn, clasped with both hands but his attention is on you. He just looks confused. Unsure and worried. For a while neither of you say a single word. You just sit still in the chilly night air, with the scent of blood choking you and fear in your eyes. And then Gator seems to be able to collect himself, holstering his gun and fixes you with a look that you can't discern. That you aren't able to. And then he utters one word with complete defeat and a little exhaustion too:

"Shit."

#Gator Tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman #fargo season 5 #fargo s5 #joe keery x reader #joe keery fargo #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator x reader #gator fargo

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hollyhomburg · 2 days

Note

No is I am crying about the packs pups and how adorable they all are. Though to be fair it’s been a crying evening

okay but i do wanna talk about the packs two girl pups, the older alpha one (who i picture with the prettiest red hair for some reason) and the younger little omega one- whose blonde and curly haired like i was when i was little, and how the older one would be all skinned knees and sneakers until it came to dress up with the youngest and tae- like please imagine the little one being so excited to try on her big sister's baseball caps and the older one all the way up in a tree wearing a giant tutu getting it muddy- but then when she comes down they all get muddy and grimey makeing mudpies in the front lawn (jk lowkey hoses them down before letting them inside for some very thurough grooming and scenting) in my mind they are pretty different personality wise but they're very very close.

i think when the older one leaves for college she gives the younger one her pink pocket knife and maybe a pink baseball cap to match hers but backing up a bit- maybe when they're younger- around 11 and 6- the older one convinces the younger that something is safe when it isn't, accidentally leading to the younger one getting hurt- like a broken wrist or something,

And it's not that the others suspect that the older sister pushed the younger or encouraged her to do something that would deliberatly get her hurt- that just is their first reaction since they do tend to bicker alot and clash- but any doubt that they had in their mind is quickly extinquished when the older one sobs louder than they've ever heard her- which is suprising, different than they've come to expect from their stoney minded oldest girl.

like this is the same kid who has fallen 10 feet down from a tree without even batting an eye- who straight up got bitten by a neighborhood dog and laughed- an alpha girl that for all intents and purposes- is probably the toughest alpha in the family- they always joke that she has too much wolf in her- always walking barefoot and getting knots in her hair.

Who is now crying over their little siblings broken arm. sobbing big big tears and hiding her face, crying out "i'm the worst alpha in the whole world!!!" and of course she's quickly scooped up and shushed and comforted by the others- especially jin and the m/c who all but scent her silly and reassure her that they are not angry with her at all- that things happened and next time everyone just has to be careful-

and it's mostly fixed when the younger one comes back in namjoon's arms, yoongi close behind- and the little one is really okay! she's got wet cheeks and her face is tucked into namjoon's neck but she excitedly asks their older sister if they want a lolly pop too! because the really really really nice nurse gave her a whole lapfull of them for being brave and she got one for everyone!!! but her older sister gets two!!! and could she be the first one to sign her cast?

and maybe the older one asks her "why did you get it green instead of pink? thats your favorite color" and the little one is all shy but so happy because she got it in her older siblings favorite color instead, because pink and green are the same color as watermellon and really- watermellon is like the best best food so (in my mind- the littlest pup inherits the m/c's penchant for food really- please imagine her walking around with a little chubby belly the way that little kids walk, she's very food obsessed in like- the best most healthy way)

i know i said that i didn't have names in mind for them- and i know they're not traditional korean names but i do think that maybe the pups get korean names and american names because jin and namjoon would probably want to make sure they all could speak and write it. in my mind- the older sisters name is Magnolia (maggie for short) and the younger one is Lily. imagine if the pack called them "our little flowers" 🥺 i also think that hobi plants a big magnolia tree in their front yard when Magnolia is born and that's the one that she likes to climb so much <3

(i just looked it up and both of these names actually do have a korean equivalent that might fit the sylabic name structure of korean names, someone who speaks korean should chime in! lily in korean is Baeghab and magnolia in korean is Moglyeon)

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queen0fm0nsterz · 6 months

Text

thinking about the Lady again and she actually is the Character Ever.

Starting off with her design. How ridiculously simple it is, right? Her yukata is plain brown and has a single layer, her wig (and yes, I am positive what she wears is not her hair but a wig soley because of how easily it comes undone... that kind of hairstyle is meant to STICK when done with actual hair) has no decorations befitting a woman of her powerful status and her mask is nothing but... empty. You could mistake her for a mannequin and you wouldn't even be wrong. It's by design, after all: she is as insanely important, as a figure, as she is anonymous as a person.

But then, it's with amusement that you note that that boring, unexpressive mask is called the "Rascal's mask" when unlocked. It's such an oddly affectionate nickname stemming from a person so utterly despicable. And then you notice her hair. Her long, black hair that should be hidden under her wig, as the hairstyle goes, but are instead hanging out freely. Not very traditional at all, right? You could almost read it as a small act of defiance of... something. Now, what that thing is, I doubt even she knows. Maybe it's just her way to seek individuality without having to step into zones she does not want to touch.

And then, of course, the lack of shoes. It's not uncommon for people to wear slippers in the house - especially for the Japanese - but she just... doesn't. In that small, small way, she is similar to Six - and every other child in the Maw running around barefoot. Except she's above running, of course. She's got the privilege of floating like a ghost so that she may never touch the ground.

(The only time when this rule is broken is when she fights Six, poetically enough. You can see her visibly step back.)

These strange little things are the first things that push you to wonder about her as a person. Not the title, not the Lady of the Maw: the individual behind the mask. Who is that person? What is she like? Is there a way to answer these questions? I think yes, if you know where to look - but is it worth to ask these questions considering what she does?

That depends on you. Me personally, I think there is narrative worth to be found in what she has to hide. Her foil, Six, finds value in the aspects of herself she does not hide: she is very unapologetic in her selfhood. The Lady isn't, for the most part.

(I wonder if that would make her envious of her younger counterpart in a different context?)

Frankly, looking back on her choice of attire, the fact that her personal bedroom is barely decorated is not surprising. She only has the essentials: a bed, the vase with the key, a few pictures of importance (of people long forgotten, herself included no doubt) and... an ungodly amount of misplaced clothes all over her quarters. All the same yukata, repeated over and over, maniacally folded and arranged in towers, but never where they're supposed to be.

A bedroom is the reflection of yourself. Of your inner world. The fact hers looks so barebones is quite telling about who she is. Or isn't. She herself may have some trouble trying to figure that one out.

I think that, in a vacuum, it's easy to assume that the reason she's so displeased by her reflection is soley out of vanity. That is definitely part of it, but I don't think that's all there is. Because after seeing the mannequins that all look just like her, the four women in the picture who also wear her same exact clothes... and that hidden quote.

This quote, which is from Alice in Wonderland. Specifically from a conversation in which Alice expresses how she doesn't recognise herself anymore because of how many times she grew big and small during the course of the day. She is not the same person she was before entering Wonderland.

I find the way she clings to the dolls and the music box to be much more... sombre when keeping this in mind. In a way, that scene is reminiscent of Monster Six clinging to her music box in the chaos of the Tower; an attempt to attach to something safe. For the Lady, it's even more personal. Those are her toys. Her song. No one can take them from her and claim them as theirs. These materialistic tomes are physical proof of her identity. She likes dolls, and she likes to sing that song from her music box. Surely, that much is something.

But a ceramic toy and an old music box are not really enough to placate the inner turmoil. Hence the broken mirrors, the hidden statues... the hung down portraits with their eyes scratched out - from times of the past. There is a person looking back in the mirror which she does not recognise. That can't be her, right?

It isn't. The reflection is but a faux image of her outward appearence. The inside, however... much like this concept art shows, she is melting away. Rapidly decaying no matter how much she tries to stick to her youth.

Because at the end of the day, that's what she's doing, no? The toys, the music box, her appearence... all of it, just to cling a bit more to the person she used to be. Point being that I doubt even she remembers what she used to be.

You'd think a person like this would be inclined to feel at least some sympathy for all the lost children wandering the Nowhere. A sense of kinship, perhaps, or even just... basic human compassion. She has proved to have very human emotions, after all. This is where she proves you wrong. Whenever you think she's stepped the lowest, she always goes lower.

In her humanity, she is brutal. Relentless, ruthless. She offers no sympathy to anyone and has no empathy to spare either. She is very much aware of what's going on under her roof: she not only allows the Maw to continue being the way it is in spite of having the power to change things, but she actively engages in its despicable practices. She has petrified children in her quarters, as well as their ashes - of which the use is unclear - and then she is responsible for the Nome population and exploitation being so large and so eerily heavy. She's twisted necks, broken bones, murdered innocents.

The Shadow Children are, to me, one her greatest offenses. I don't think they serve any particular purpose other than... being there because she wanted to make them. Children ripped away from their life because of her whims. Not even in death can they rest because she can get her hands on their souls. They're nameless, forgotten shadows with blank masks: they're just like their creator, in that way. Ripped of all individuality and devoid of everything.

Everything she sees, the Lady devours. Not a creature is safe from her shadows and her wrath, especially if they come and actively intrude in her activities. She's twice as aggressive if the Maw is at stake.

The Lady's personal bedroom has another motif piece which I did not previously mention: the Maw wallpaper. While Roger and the Chefs have wallpapers that portray them with her, the Lady... does not. She only has the Maw. She's not part of that picture.

The Lady can't let the Maw change its ways. She is the Maw. The Maw must survive: so must she. To change the Maw would mean challenging herself enough to bring about a change; to her, who does nothing but lament what she lost, that would be too much effort. Too outside of the comfortable zone where she can survive in peace. Miserable, but unbothered.

... For the most part. Until Six comes around.

#the lady #carols.txt #ln meta #{dude i dont even know where i was going with this #if it seems like this post comes from a place of love it does #not at her as a person but like as a character. i find her so interesting and i feel oddly tender about her writing #usually when this happens its because i see pieces of the person i could have been in a character (like scaramouche for example)#but this time its from the completely opposite perspective #i am a person with a very clear idea of who i am. i know what my identity is and i am not afraid to express it #so witnessing a character with such a confused identity is both alien and fascinating to me #i wanted to focus more on her atrocities and how capitalism is what changes a person but its... 2 am and i am sick rn #i spent an hour literally vomiting my ramblings on this post #as a person and what she stands for i despise her. as a character i wish to put her in a security blanket and see how she gets out #this post feels terribly personal for some reason. like whatever . shes not even allat #im lying she literally IS allat #idk i love well written female characters who feel like people and dont fit in a specific convenctional box. sue me #< goes for six too #not opening *that* can of worms rn but. yeah}#little nightmares

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x-aefx · 1 year

Text

Back to you - Ellie Williams

Part six /

Summary:college!ellie au. Having once been close friends, Ellie and you begin to talk again while new feelings bloom and old ones return.

Taglist: @elliewilliamsmunch @joliettes @gocryariver @blairfox04 @s1decha @haerinwho

A/N: the song at the start is called Dancing Barefoot by Patti Smith, some Daisy Jones and the six (show) fans might recognize it, it's a great song! This chapter isn't as long but needed for the remainder of the story.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“she is sublimation .”

Your head moved slightly back and forward as you listened to the music.

“She is the essence of thee.”

You scribbled word after word in your cursive handwriting. You didn’t understand the topic completely, the words you were writing were not at all entering your brain, you wrote mindlessly with the intention of getting it done with. Not to learn.

“She is concentrating on he, chosen by she.”

Your focus was broken by the feeling of tapping on your arm that your head was resting on.

Snapping back to reality you pulled out your earphones and turned around, confused as to who wanted to talk to you in the library.

“Hey Y/N, been a while hasn’t it?”

Your lips parted slightly and your eyes widened before they filled with guilt and awkwardness.

“Hey Ethan.” Your cringed at your sad attempt at being enthusiastic to see him.

Ethan gestured to the empty seat across from you. You nodded at him to take the seat. You didn’t want to have this conversation right now. You also didn’t want to be rude when there was no reason for it.

“So how have you been? I was worried. You kinda just disappeared.” Ethan leaned forward in his seat, making sure to keep his voice in a whisper.

“yeah about that, I’ve been meaning to come to you and apologize. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and I shouldn’t of just ignored you.” You confessed. You dropped your pen and shifted your focus entirely to the boy across from you.

“its all good. I just want to make sure your alright. You know I was worried my sister said something to offend you.” Ethan joked.

You smiled remembering your encounter with Nora in the changing rooms.

“No don’t worry she was nice. Something kind of happened and i- I uh got scared. Which is lame. I know.” You avoided his eyes as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap.

“its not lame.” Ethan was quick to comment.

You glanced up at him in shock, you didn’t except him to say that. Part of you expected him to laugh and agree that it was a lame thing to do. The other part of you thought he would be angry.

“look I don’t want to pry. I just want to know your ok.” Ethan looked at you with so much sincerity it was hard not to smile and lunge across the table to engulf him in a hug. You managed to resist that urge.

“I’m alright. And I’m sorry.” You let a breath out, proud you were able to say those words without a single stutter.

“you know what would make me forgive you?” Ethan spoke in fake seriousness.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” You tried to copy his seriousness.

“If you would do me the honor of joining me for dinner. Tonight. As my date.” Ethan smiled hopefully.

You found your heart lower in your chest. The breath in your lungs vanish and your mind go completely blank.

You felt disappointed. But you shouldn’t feel that way.

Ethan was a handsome guy and popular with not just students, but professors also. Despite getting detentions every other week, the professors seemed to have a soft spot for his jokes and not so serious personality. He came from a wealthy family whom he was close with. He was they type of guy you wouldn’t hesitate to bring home to your parents.

Yet you didn’t want to force yourself to go on a date with someone you didn’t possess romantic feelings for. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you figured it would be better to let him down now, rather than lead him on in false hope.

Amongst your thoughts images flashed in your mind.

Bright green eyes.

Freckled sun kissed skin.

Short auburn hair tied messily.

Tattooed arms.

Pink lips pulled into a loving smile.

“Ethan I’m so sorry-“

“fuck that wasn’t how I imagined this would go.” Ethan let a breath out as he leaned back in his chair. Disappointed clear on his face.

“I can’t go on a date with you when I don’t share those kind of feelings for you. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“I get it Y/N.” Ethan looked away from you.

“You’re a great guy. You won’t have any problems finding a girl who likes you the way you want them to. I’m certain of it.” You smiled as you tried to reassure him.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Ethan muttered.

An idea stuck you causing a smile of excitement to form on your face.

“have you ever met someone by the name Lily Ashwood?”

°°°°°°°°°°°°

The campus coffee shop was unsurprisingly busy when you reached it. Every table was occupied, the que was formed by almost 15 people. But the coffee was good and cheap so you lined up behind everyone else waiting to order.

You had spent your evening writing the remainder of your essays that were due this week. It caused you to miss two parties but in your head it was worth it.

Reaching into the pocket of your coat, your fingers searched for the money you knew was in there.

“Shit sorry!”

Your body swayed a bit to the side from the impact of another body against yours. You looked down at your body, thankful to see no drinks had been spilled on your clothes like in those stories.

“your good, don’t worry.”

Looking in the direction of the voice, you were met with an unfamiliar face. Blue eyes met yours, blonde hair to match the colour of gold, a tanned heart shaped face, a pointed nose and pink lips. The girl was beautiful. You searched your mind, surely you would of seen this girl before? Lily must of mentioned her at least once?

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.” The girl laughed. You smiled.

“Babe?” another girl called. You recognized her from one of your classes, Tegan her name was. She was nice, known for her perfect grades and extreme organization.

Tegan wrapped an arm around the waist of the mystery girl you had bumped into. Pulling her closely to her side she quickly pecked her lips.

“I knocked into this girl, hope I wasn’t keeping you waiting too long.” The girl , who you had yet to discover the name off, explained to her girlfriend, presumably.

“its fine, I just didn’t want to be alone.” Tegan mumbled, heat rising to her cheeks as she avoided eye contact, choosing to fiddle with a piece of her girlfriends golden hair.

The girl laughed, a sweet genuine laugh. You watched as she brought a hand to the side of Tegan’s face, gently moving to tuck a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. Tegan looked up at her, cheeks still a rosy colour. Both girls smiled to one another, you knew that look. You had never experienced it, but you knew that look.

It was the look your dad gave your mother when he’d catch her asleep on the sofa whilst watching tv.

It was the look Jesse would give Dina even when she was ranting to him all about how people needed to stop littering.

It was a look of love. Pure real love.

You watched at their free hands interlocked with each other. You watched their smiles grow bigger on both their faces, you noticed both of their faces a light shade of pink.

Your eyes moved around the café, you seen an elderly couple holding hands across the table as the wife talked to her husband about her day, he listened to her every word intently.

You seen the boy behind the counter eagerly wait to see the customer read the note he wrote on his coffee cup.

You saw a girl focusing on the book she was reading whilst the girl she was with, laid her head on her shoulder, a content smile on her face.

You had never craved the love of another until you looked around and realized it was completely surrounding you, yet didn’t touch you.

Your eyes drifted back to the couple In front of you. You smiled and reassured the girl with the pretty golden hair when she apologized once again for knocking into you. You left the café.

You wanted that kind of love. To love another and to feel their love towards you.

You closed your eyes.

Bright green eyes.

Freckled sun kissed skin.

Short auburn hair tied messily.

Tattooed arms.

Pink lips pulled into a loving smile.

Your heart sped up. Only this time it was different. It wasn’t a sick feeling it brought you, this time it brought you excitement and giddiness.

You couldn’t hide your smile despite your best efforts. It stayed on your lips for the entire walk back to your dorm .

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