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saintescuderia · 1 month

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pancakes (pt. 1)

welcome a new multi-chapter fic. enjoy.

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :)

P1 - bulgarian split squats

Really, the only way to survive Formula 1 was by going to the gym.

The gym addiction was something that had existed long before joining the circus of a motorsports paddock filled with politics and rumours, as well as the slim fitting uniforms that always seemed to be accompanied by, in your opinion, ugly ass shoes.

Sure, Puma was the offical sponsor but couldn’t they get anything other than the Speedcat? And what even was that name? Speedcat? It was on brand, sure, but at what cost? Really? If Formula 1 was trying to grow its popularity they could honestly start with their dress code. Seeing Christian Horner in Skechers really took the intimidation out of him when you served him his double espresso during the Spanish Grand Prix that one time last season.

One of the perks of working in Hospitality - and there were very few far and in between - was that uniform was not so strict. F1 Hospitality only required an all black service with ‘comfortable shoes.’ This you took for interpretation. Dunks. Jordan 4s. Maybe 1s. Never 13s. Forces were good for a night race - that usually meant more stairs - and Vans were what you reached for in the morning when you knew you’d be working the barista shift. Converse were for ‘throw away’ races.

These were the races where you knew the shoe-care was not important. For example, Silverstone with its torrential UK drinkers who were likely to throw up on your beloved sneakers. Alas, you had learned the hard way when you almost lost your job by rushing to the kitchen to start scrubbing the vomit off your blue and red Cortez during peak lunch.

Never again.

Admittedly, you did try to keep at least one pair of Converse in good care since they were the renowned shoe come leg day.

Another perk of working in F1 Hospitality was that every circuit’s map layout had been drilled into your head. Meaning you always knew exactly where the communal driver’s gym was located at and could therefore get your daily dose of dopamine before dealing with… well, everything.

You silenced the shrill horror that came from the iPhone alarm. 4:00 read the lockscreen, the light shining brightly into your face. It didn’t help that your wallpaper had a photo with a clear blue sky, making the light even harsher in the darkness. You could’ve very well changed it and avoid the pain you routinely go through every morning. But it was this very photo that reminded you why you were getting up in four in the morning in the first place.

You had snapped it during a free practice in Italy that had miraculously lined up with a break in your shift. The sky was clear and the red car was small, but clear on the circuit. Ferrari, of course. You still remember the buzz that circled around the paddock staff that day. No matter who you routed for or whatever bias you had, there was a unanimously acknowledgement that Ferrari winning at Monza was special. He was special.

Then again, you’ve known that long before he stood on that podium in Italy and was given his infamous nickname.

It didn’t even take you ten minutes until you were out the door. Your gym clothes (pump cover included!) were on the one limpy chair that decorated your poor little hotel room, your shaker sat on top of your gym bag with you black high top Converse right beside it. By the time you had made it to the gym, it was a little past 4:15 and you had already scooped in pre-workout into your mouth ready to get through the oncoming pain.

Your hips were a little tight, as per normal. The left side even more so. The hood of your hoodie was up, headphones on and blasting the hardstyle house music that would see you through the next two hours. You went through your usual stretches but with today’s added focus on the lower body.

And then you went about destroying your legs.

It was about an hour or so that Oscar finally sleepily arrived. You weren’t actually sure what time it was but you were up to doing bulgarian split squats - and hating life - and that was usually at the hour mark. You gave him a curious once over, noting the odd choice of clothing. It was a little odd to see a driver in the paddock wearing athleisure that wasn’t their team uniform.

“Bro, it’s five in the morning.” Oscar groaned, shuffling over to come and sit on the bench next to you. You gave another three more reps - Oscar silently watching you groan in pain through the last two - and then finally dropped the dumbbells. You reached over to take a sip of water and checked the phone for the time.

“It’s five thirteen in the morning.” You corrected. It had been just about the hour mark. “Are we training today or?” It wasn’t the first time Oscar had joined you. The reason his neck was getting stronger was because of you. In your opinion, the trainer Alpine had assigned Oscar was a fucking idiot.

“You’re doing legs.” Oscar pointed out, as if that was enough of an answer. He leaned to lay back down on the bench and stared up as he continued to speak. “Drivers don’t need bulky legs. We’ve been over this.”

You had. Many times. You knew he was right. It still would be nice to have someone to go through legs with you, though.

“So train with light weights.” You offered, trying. Oscar just gave you a look that made it clear he was not picking up any type of weights. You shrugged, not deterred. “I’ll do calisthenics with you. Or we can work on plyometrics.” Oscar’s response was to close his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Fuck it man, do some cardio.” You came to the last resort, coming to kick his legs as you walked past to load up the smith machine with some different plates.

“Piss off Tezza.” The Australian-ness continuing to shine through with the nickname that Oscar had specifically designed for you in respect of your shared citizenship to the ‘land down under.’

Except unlike the blond caucasian boy who loved AFL, grew up in Brighton East and attended Haileybury, your Australian-ness was less obvious. Your accent, for one, wasn’t as prominent since your parents were African immigrants. This, of course, didn’t just influence your speech patterns and accent.

Dark skin, dark eyes and dark hair, you weren't exactly the picture of a 'true blue Aussie.' The rite of public school bullying from those who did look 'Australian' (whatever that meant) had you scoffing at vegemite and preferring to follow EPL and La Liga than whatever the fuck was Aussie Rules Football.

Why is it called football if the players pick up the ball?

Still, when a homesick Oscar Piastri overheard one of the Hospitality staff yell out that that they were going for a 'Macca’s run' between the practice sessions on his very first F1 race weekend, he instantly picked up on the Australian-ism. And he didn’t let it go. And cue the beginning of a friendship that had Oscar Piastri calling you ‘bro’ and shortening your last name as per Australian rite.

Even if you had sworn off that sort of thing.

“Oscar, man, if you ain’t here to train then why are you?” You said, locking the plates in place on the smith machine. You lifted up your hood up and ducked under the bar to rest the metal against you shoulders, the hood acting as a cushion. The starting weight was light enough that you wouldn't have to worry about music for your first set. Besides, if Oscar was here, he could be the entertainment for this set. “You forget that this is a driver’s only gym. You could get in trouble." The sarcasm was all too clear in your voice.

No one used the ‘drivers-only’ gym. It was something that every Grand Prix had set up. Mobile, communal and high-end, it had enough equipment to rival the local 24/7 studio franchise gym that seemed to exist in every neighbourhood. Despite the fact that every driver preferred to train at their own motorhome gym - or that every team had their own mobile gym set up in conjunction to the motorhome - F1 still went about packing up and moving their own studio gym to every single location come race weekend.

If anything, it was a nice stop during the presentation walk during the sponsorship lunches where good old Stefano Domenicali would show off all the amazing resources that the Grand Prix space has to offer.

So, no. F1’s Driver Gym was not used.

The only reason it wasn’t gathering dust was because every weekend it was packed up and moved. That and you woke up at 4am every weekend to destroy your muscles in the familiar red and black equipment.

"You're here." Oscar reminded you. "And not a driver."

You ignored him and just kept up with your repetitions, focusing on engaging your glutes and keeping your core tight. Oscar was silent as you finished your first set. When you finished your last rep, he stood up and came round as you locked the machine. He knew you well enough to pick up the 10kg and help add it to the sides.

"Thanks." You said. Oscar nodded and added the weight to the other side. There was a quiet air for a moment and you went to pick up your headphones to put them back on. Things were getting heavier and you would need music to get through the next few sets.

“I might be leaving Alpine.”

You looked up at Oscar who dropped the bomb and then looked back at your headphones. You sighed and then dropped the headphones back to land in your gym bag. Headphoneless, you went back to the machine and Oscar took your invitation.

“Zak Brown approached me yesterday and suggested something about picking me up for next year.” Oscar said.

You just kept squatting. Oscar was far too removed to yet be aware of - well, everything.

“And with talk of Fernando quitting, I know that Alpine will be calling me up but do I trust that? Honestly Lando has been doing so well and Ocon has always pissed me off.” Oscar watched as you started to struggle.

He stood up and came around to help you but you just shook you head. You pushed through one more rep and then called it.

“He does have a punchable face.” You said, now out of breath. Esteban had always annoyed you and before meeting Oscar, you used to dread the weekends where you were put on Alpine.

Your friend handed you the water bottle sat beside your gym bag before you could even ask. You gave a two finger salute in thanks as he continued on.

“And Lily and I got into this massive fight again! Apparently I don’t communicate enough!” He huffed. “But I sent her flowers and chocolates because she’s going through finals and she likes daisies and Cadbury."

“Yeah, but is that her love language though?” You asked, dropping your bottle and going to stack up the final set of weights on the smith machine. Oscar stood up again to help you.

“Her what?” He asked, handing you the plate.

“Love language.” You answered, still panting, and explained, “You’ve got physical touch, gift giving, quality time, words of affirmation and acts of service.”

“Are you saying people love in specific ways?" Oscar asked, quick to process new information as always.

“Exactly. You did something nice for her, an act of service. Maybe all she wants is a nice, long phone call or maybe some texts complimenting her or something.” You shrugged and then brought up your headphones.

Oscar accepted this, knowing the last set would require music.

He watched you as you settled back under the smith machine bar and went on squatting more than his body weight. He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. He really shouldn't have been surprised at your lack of surprise. Little shocked you. That or your might’ve already known and just kept it to yourself. F1 Hospitality were a part of the Formula One Group and, therefore, were not associated to any one team. They had rotations across all teams and, therefore, every member of staff were required to sign an NDA. Not that ever did anything in this damn place.

Still, Oscar knew that you were one of the few genuine people left in this place.

He knew that there would’ve been so many opportunities where you could’ve easily done something for yourself by recounting something you had overheard while pouring Toto Wolff his coffee or serving Mattia Binotto his lunch. It was the reason why so many teams hired their own internal hospo staff.

It was also the reason why Oscar felt comfortable coming to tell you about Alpine and McLaren before he had even told his own parents, or Lily. The argument with his girlfriend had prevented him from getting any sleep, mulling it over in his mind for hours. Oscar knew you would be able to help him through it all.

And that you would be the only one awake at this godforsaken hour.

By the time you had finished your first set, he was Googling love languages and having a quick read through.

By the time you had finished your second set, he was halfway through doing the love languages quiz.

By the time you had finished your third and final set, he was seeing what the problem was between him and Lily.

“I think Lily is words of affirmation and I'm acts of service." He said, coming up to the machine as you stepped back and pulled down your headphones. You blinked and nodded, still put of breath. "I think I forgot to check in with her and send her some compliments. Tell her I'm proud of her for getting through exams. Especially because she never is one for gifts, really."

You held out your hand to him. "There you go. Growth."

"I don't know what to do about Alpine."

"Call a lawyer."

Oscar pursed his lips and then considered this. That wouldn't be his first move but thinking about it, it was probably for the best. "That's actually a good idea."

"Isn't that why you're here?" You retorted. "Since you're not here to train. Speaking of which, the fuck is that?"

“What?” He asked and realised you were looking at his feet.

“Zak Brown isn’t going to hire you if he finds out that you’re wearing fucking thongs with socks.” You said, finally recognising the flip-flops he wore with some white socks that really needed to be washed.

“You’ve been a great help, thanks.” Oscar smiled. You rolled your eyes and went to your gym bag. Pulling out a pair of white Adidas Sambas, you tossed them to Oscar.

“Put these on.”

“Is my footwear really that offensive to you?”

“We’ll go run the track.” You said then gestured to all of him. “It’ll help you burn all of this off.”

Oscar sighed and did as he was told. He laced up the shoes you'd given him that surprisingly fit his large feet and followed you out to the track. He used his pass to get through since a driver running the track at 5:30 in the morning would just be seen as the dedication to the grind. A Hospitality staff member would just be accused of breaking in.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re going through a crisis. I’ve always wanted to do a morning run on the track.” You said with a grin as the pair of you came to the starting line that, in a matter of hours, would be full of mechanics, engineers, reporters, camera crew members and, of course, drivers.

“If I get a seat at McLaren, you can be my trainer.” Oscar said as you both started warming up into a light jog.

"Ha." You snorted. "As if you could afford me, bro."

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

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The Duff 14

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, manipulation, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

You skip lunch, trying to make up for missed time. The hours fly by and you only look up from your desk as Marnie packs up. You wish her a good night and Taylor leaves soon after without a word.

You cradle your forehead and pull your phone closer, flipping it over. Notifications stack on the lock screen unnoticed as you keep it muted in the office. You don't need Gloria lecturing you again about professionalism.

That most of the notifications are messages from Curtis both surprises you and doesn't. You fully thought he was too mad to bother yet he's left a scroll of texts. He's a bit much, too much.

Ugh, you don't know. You put down the phone and rub your eyes. It's just all too fast. You're panicking. And clueless. You just really don't know if you're blowing it out of proportion.

You retrieve your phone and flip up the lockscreen. You thumb through your contacts and hit Stephanie's name. You hesitate, hovering over the keyboard.

'Hey, sup?'

Hopefully she answers. You can ask her about Curtis. Or maybe you're better off just forgetting him. You're almost too embarrassed to tell anyone. You're probably being stupid.

You go back to your work. Gloria is already gone. You barely saw her before she left for the courthouse and Charles dipped out after his lunch. You might be the only person left in the office.

You enjoy the solitary. You feel like you haven't been alone in forever. You never realised how much you actually enjoy it.

Your steady typing fills the silence. You ease into the lull, the sky dimming through the windows, casting a haze over your cubicle. You save the file and check the time. You should go. At this point, you're working for free.

The click of a door handle frightens you. You assure yourself it's just the cleaner but the scuff of a sole assures you otherwise. Andy lets out a garbled noise.

"Shoot, sorry, I didn't realise anyone was still here," he says.

"Just about to leave," you grab your phone and make a face at the new alert. Even more messages and none from Stephanie.

"Avoiding home?" Andy wonders as he pulls shut his office door.

"Not exactly," you shut down your computer and grab your bag from under your desk, "just… not in a hurry."

"I know the feeling. Not rearing to sit down to a microwave steak and powdered potatoes," he kids, "you know what people never warn you about when you divorce? The cooking."

You force a laugh. It's nice of him to humour you. You suppose your problems could be worse. You don't have to worry about custody or alimony or really anything but yourself. Maybe that's why Curtis is making you so anxious.

"Not tryna be inappropriate but you have any suggestions? Might be better off grabbing something on the way."

"Er," you shoulder your bag, "the taco place isn't too bad from what I hear. My friends said it was amazing.:

"You didn't go?"

"Uh, no," you admit as you rub your neck, making the awkward shuffle towards the door ahead of him, "I was busy."

You won't admit that they didn't invite you and that you were at home watching their Insta stories about the ghost pepper salsa. No one needs to know that. You wish you could forget that altogether.

"Hmm, I don't mind Mexican," he follows you through the door, "how about you? What's for dinner?"

"I don't know, cereal," you scoff as you head down the stairs, "easier than cooking."

He's quiet as the stairs creak beneath his feet. The old building groans as you come down to the main floor. You don't even feel much like eating.

"I hate to be… too forward but you wanna join me for tacos? My treat."

"Hmm?" You pause at the door and glance back at him.

"I mean, you want something quick and I hate eating alone. Every night. In front of the TV."

You feel a pluck of sympathy. You can't tell if he's playing it up or joking. You also don't know how acceptable it would be to have dinner with your boss.

"You don't have to stay. We can grab take out and you can enjoy it at home."

You keep your hand on the door and tap your toe. It's just food, right? You hate to turn down a free meal and Andy's harmless.

"If I'm being honest, I really just don't wanna walk in by myself. I feel like a bit of a sad sack," he lowers his voice. "So?"

You tilt your head back and forth. It will be a good excuse not to look at your phone. You tuck the cell phone on the side pocket of your bag and give a smile.

"Sure, why not? If you're paying, I'm not complaining."

#curtis everett x reader #dark curtis everett #curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #snowpiercer #au #drabble #the DUFF #series #andy barber #defending jacob

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iluvshinytwink · 1 year

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do you think you’d end this series of painful angsty stories all which sort of correlate to “are we still friends” by finally giving us a big fluffy angsty story where Jude caves in and goes to see the reader and they have a huge fight or wtv but then turns out they’re obv still in love w each other or sumn bc i didn’t think it was possible but you keep tugging on my heartstrings w these angst filled updates every week give my man a happy ending please 😭

MORE THAN FRIENDS AGAIN? - Jude Bellingham

"Can't say goodbye."

Synopsis: You break up with Jude so he can focus on his career as a football player but he can't get you off his mind and neither can you.

Now Playing . . . ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? by Tyler, The Creator

a/n: SEASON FINALE ‼‼ (not really expect more angst to come.)

This is related to.. jesus christ do i really have to list them all? "Sunny Days" "Are We Still Friends?" "Can we be more than friends again?" "Hair Tie" "Just for me" "September" check them out if you'd like 💔

Feelings could no longer be ignored. The more you try to run away from something, the faster it'll come back to you. The more you ignore something, the faster it'll haunt you. The more you try to forget, the more you remember. The more you deny, the more you ache.

Jude lived everyday with an aching heart, an aching heart that yearned for you. An aching heart that would stop aching for one person and one person only, you.

Nights were cold and empty, filled with memories that could only be replayed over and over. Late night thoughts were composed of nothing but you, questions with no answers, doubts with no reassurance.

Jude's eyes grew heavy but yet he couldn't sleep. The room was silent and was occupied with nothing but his thoughts. Suddenly, a question that made his heart drop suddenly came to his mind.

Had you moved on?

It's been months since the two of you departed so why hasn't he moved on? Why couldn't he live his hours without being reminded of you?

Every waking hour he finds himself remembering you, but do you?

Did he impact your life as much as you impacted his? Did he make you smile as much as you did? Did he make you love him the same way he loved and still loved you?

Before he could bombard his mind about these cruel thoughts he forcefully closes his eyes, wanting to go to sleep to forget about this. To forget about you.

Jude shuts his eyes closed, his eyebrows knitting into anger. Finally, a tear slips down his cheek.

You scrolled through your camera roll, your past pictures were filled with you and Jude. Your eyes grew heavy as you stared at your phone. You click on a photo.

Jude had his tongue out in the photo, you were in the backround typing on your laptop. A smile appeared on your monotone face.

You missed him, you really did. You missed his smile, his laughter, his voice, his touch, his hair. Everything. Like him, there was a question you had in your mind that you couldn't find an answer to.

Had he moved on?

Was he smiling for another girl the same way he used to smile at you? Was he laughing with another girl like the two of you used to?

Was Jude loving another girl that wasn't you?

You blink out of your thoughts, closing your phone.

"He's surely moved on." you thought to yourself. "So why can't I?" you placed your phone on your bed side table with a sigh.

"Why can't I forget?" you thought. You closed your heavy eyes, drifting to sleep.

Jude looked out his window, the moon glowed in all its glory. The crickets around him chirped and everyone around him was probably fast asleep. A rush of cold wind meets his face, a deep sigh releasing his mouth. He tapped on his phone again, checking the time.

3:11 am, the phone read. He found himself staring at his lockscreen wallpaper which was unironically, still you. He blinked at it, looking away quickly before he could overthink it.

Jude walks away from his window, taking his phone and grabbing his airpods. He wanted to go somewhere far away, away from the memories, away from the pain, away from you.

Jude walked out of his house, the cold wind sending a shiver down his spine. He didn't know where to go, he didn't know why he wanted to go, but he just did.

Jude started walking, he didn't know where he would end up but he did so anyway.

Jude stares at the ground, his shoes, the pavement, and the patches of grass below him. His hands were dug deep inside his pockets, a weak sense of warmth comforting him. His airpods were tucked deep in his ears, the world, the crickets silencing before him.

A few minutes pass and Jude finally stops in his tracks. Jude lifts his head that was staring at the ground and gazed at the sky. The moon stared back along with the many stars the sky was dusted with. An aura radiated the moon, in a moment of probable sleep deprivation, he swore the moon stared at him back with a soft smile.

Jude brings his head down from the sky and looks to his right.

His heart drops to his knees, sending a fast pain into his entire body.

It was your house.

No matter how many times he would try, he would always go back to you. Intentionally or unintentionally. He was forever connected to you, like following a string, or following a trail, he would always end up with you.

He wanted to end up with you.

The gods above were playing a cruel trick on him, he hated it. With a heavy heart, he walks back home.

One night, something in him snapped. Even if everything in him was already snapped, the last string that held him together, that held his feelings together, snapped. He couldn't take it anymore.

He hated crying every single night, wishing those memories he kept remembering happened again.

He hated your presence that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

He hated your smile that kept flashing in his mind.

He hated your laugh that kept replaying.

Jude hops in his car, he wanted a final answer.

He wanted to know if you were truly over him, so he could force himself to be over you too.

He wanted to know if you've forgotten about him, so he could forget about you too.

He wanted to know if you hated him, so he could hate you just as much too.

Jude's grip on the stirring wheel tightened as he blinked rapidly to keep the tears away.

A part of his mind wanted to go to your house purely to see if you were done with him, so could finally sort out the mess his feelings were tangled in.

But another part of his mind simply wanted to see you again. So his mind could get another glimpse of you. So he could see if you were as beautiful as he left you.

Jude stares at the red light, composing his thoughts together. He knew this stop light all too well, this was the stop light closest to your home.

And just like that, Jude's mind fades into another memory.

Jude stares at the red light as the music coming from the radio played softly. One hand on the stirring wheel, and the other on the cup holder.

Suddenly, he feels a hand touch his. He looks down at his hand and finds your finger's intertwining with his. Jude looks over to you, your seat was reclined and your eyes were on your phone that flashed to your face.

Jude stares at you, holding his breath. Your eyes slowly meet his, a smile curled your lips. Then, your eyes broke away from his, and to the street light.

"The light's green, baby." your voice whispered. Jude looks at the street light, the bright light flashing green.

Another goddamn memory. Jude thought.

Jude breaks his momentary gaze from his stirring wheel and onto the street light which unironically flashed green.

Jude's head paced into his ears. Any second, his heart would've leaped out of his throat. He was nearing closer and closer to your house. There was no way he could turn around now. He had to do this, he should do this.

Jude looks to his left and saw your house. His heart drops. He was really here.

Suddenly, rain started dripping from the dark sky. Jude looks at his window as it slowly becomes coated in raindrops. Jude clicks his tongue, putting his hood on and getting out of his car.

There was no way out now.

Jude jogged his way over to your doorstep, his hood getting dripped on by rain. He felt his heart drop several times. He should turn back, he could turn back. But he couldn't.

Jude stopped on your doorstep. Jude's hand was rolled into a fist, ready to knock on the door.

The rain pittered on the ground, somewhat cheering him on. Jude swallows a lump in his throat before his hand makes contact with the door.

Seconds after, a pair of footsteps descend a flight of stairs. There was really, really no way out now. Jude takes a deep breath.

The doorknob twists open and once more his heart drops. The door creaks open and there revealed you.

Jude held his breath. You looked straight at him, your eyes widening.

Silence.

"Jude? What're you doing here?" your voice said, trying to keep the nervous tone deep in her throat. Your eyes wandered, looking at anything but him.

If you had looked at him, you thought you would fall in love all over again. Your heart raced out your chest.

"I just.. want to ask you something." Jude said, eyes trying to meet with yours.

"Sure, Jude. Come inside." you said, making way for him to enter. Now had he realized that he missed the nicknames you called him. His heart ached at hearing your voice say his name, and not one of the many nicknames you had for him.

You close the door, the rain muffled for a moment.

"What's up?" you asked, eyes on the floor as was his.

Jude's body instinctively neared yours.

Then, Jude threw his arms around you. You flinched, but your body quickly melted to his touch.

"Have you moved on?"

His voice cracked. It quivered in fear.

You didn't know what to answer. Your mind wanted to say yes, but your heart wanted to say no. Because you knew you missed him. Even though your mind wanted to say that you've moved on, your mind also knew that you missed him.

Your mouth gapes open, trying to find a response.

"Tell me that you've moved on, so I can move on." He pleaded, arms tightening on your body.

"I have, Jude. I've moved on." your voice whispered. Jude's body tenses up.

That lie was as poisoning as venom. That lie disintegrated his entire heart.

"Now, go. Get out." you shouted weakly, arms trying to push him to no avail.

So you have moved on.

His nightmares, his overthinking, were true.

The memories he kept remembering, you had already forgotten.

"Jude, please." your voice weakened. "I love you too much, I need to forget you." you whispered into his chest. Your arms wanted to hug him back, to remember the feeling of euphoria every time you hugged him back.

"I love you too." his voice sounded broken, like a glass purposely dropped from a counter. Like a vinyl smashed to the ground. "I still love you." he cried.

"But why can't I forget you?" he mumbled, almost incoherently. Jude finally unwraps his arms.

You looked at Jude. And you were right. You felt the sense of falling in love all over again washing over you. Your heart ached at the sight. Jude's eyes were puffy, but there was something behind those eyes that told you his eyes were puffy for several days. Jude's eyes glistened with tears, a new tear falling down his cheek.

Jude turns back, ready to walk away from you. Now and forever.

Suddenly, your hand reaches out to his. Jude stops.

Jude's head turns to you, your head was aimed at the floor but he could see your shaky lips.

"I can't forget about you, either." you whispered. Jude's eyes widened, a sense of relief and joy rushed through his veins.

Your hand lets go of his, both of your hands were brought to your face to wipe your tears.

Jude embraces you, his hands finding its way to your hair.

If you did this now, you knew that you would've officially loved him again.

Your arms wrapped around his body.

I knew that once I fell for you, I would've never let you go. I had you, and you had slipped away, but now, I will never let you go.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagines #iluvshinytwink #imsoslaying #delulu hours exe

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stayevildarling · 1 month

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can you write a hurt/comfort (w happy ending) fic reader x billie dean with the angst prompts „of course i‘m here, where else would i be?“ and „i missed you so much“♥️ love your work

Billie Dean Howard x Reader- The Haunting of your medium

A/N: Hi everyone, I wrote this with @lucyintheskywithxanax and I'm so excited about this. It was an honour to write with you woman <3 you are a genius

word count: 3.4k

tw: mention of death, cursing, angst

taglist: @lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay,@whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson,@isle-of-earlee,@paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime

It’s late as you wake up, the sun already reaching the top of the birch tree in the backyard. Still consumed by your sleepiness, you stir a little as a shiver runs through your body, searching for any sign of warmth in the large bed. However you are met with emptiness as you can’t find the comfort of your girlfriend. Vaguely remembering she is filming her show at the moment, you sigh a little before checking the time. As you reach for your phone, you are blinded momentarily by the bright sensation. The absence of any messages or calls startles you a little. Usually by now, Billie would have called a few times or at least texted you about her day. However there was nothing, no notification, no messages, no missed calls. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion a little as you make your way out of bed and into the kitchen as the lack of food sends little hunger pains through your stomach.

Walking towards the kitchen through the large hallway, you smile a little at the various artworks on the walls, some of Billie’s favorites that she purchased from one of her favorite artists. As you brush past the last one of them, you chuckle a little as you see a framed photo of you and Billie, your favorite one so far.

It was an unusually cold day, the kinda unusual that all the news were reporting and talking about it. And when the first snowflakes softly coated the trees outside, you knew somehow that this was going to be a good day. It was one of Billie’s days off and you assumed as you woke and slowly started the day with the medium, that you were going to spend it inside the warmth of your apartment. Hours filled in the embrace of each other and soaking in each other's warmth. Billie eventually beamed after making you and herself a cup of coffee, lazily scrolling on her phone.

You knew this meant she had one of those genius ideas that you couldn’t refuse. In the end she took you to a building, refusing to tell you beforehand where she was taking you. ,,Wrap yourself up nice and warm babydoll’’ was all she gave away. As her car pulled into the parking lot you still had no clue. It was some sort of entertainment center but you had no idea what the two of you were going to do there. As she takes you inside excitedly, her features beaming with pride, your heart fluttered.

,,Howard, I called ahead’’ she explained to the man at the front desk. The pieces connected after the person asked for your shoe sizes and Billie was handed two pairs of ice skates. You had never been before and as you stepped into the cold ice rink, you felt a little nervous. However as the music played through the speakers, Billie held your hand and dragged you onto the ice. She was certainly not the best at this but the two of you managed to steady each other out. After a while she noticed your shivering and retreated a Beanie from her handbag.

And so in matching beanies the two of you danced around the ice, hearts tapping against each other’s chest full of excitement. ,,Here babydoll’’ she beamed as she dorkily took the selfie. And thats the story of your favorite photo with the medium that made it inside a frame of your apartment and the lockscreen photo of your phone.

As you heat up some leftovers from the day before and make your way to the sofa, flipping through the channels of the tv you can’t help but miss the medium. From the start you knew she was a busy woman, filming her show and traveling all over to put her gift of being a medium to good use. However, you couldn’t help but miss the little sunshine in your life always making you smile with her antics and dorky self. Always making you feel safe as her brown eyes would meet yours and her hands lingered on your body somewhere.

Startled by the sudden noise, you are interrupted by the sound of your phone and you can’t help but smile, your heart warming up a little as you expect Billie to finally call. However as your eyes meet the screen, you see an unfamiliar number. Hesitantly you press the green button and wait for the other person to speak.

,,Hello, is this Y/N?’’ the voice speaks, a serious tone. You nod before realizing the person can’t see you, as you try to think about where you heard that voice before.

,,Yes, who is this?’’ you ask a little confused, your heartrate picking up by the minute.

,,My name is Tristana’’ she starts and suddenly the name rings a bell. ,,One of Billie’s producers’’ she carries on explaining.

,,Oh hi’’ you exclaim, a little less serious now, realising who is on the other end and Billie having talked about her before plenty of times.

,,I’m afraid I have some bad news’’ she begins to explain and your heart seems to get caught in your throat.

,,Something happened while filming the last episode’’ she begins and as she talks you through the details you feel yourself drifting away. ,,I’m so sorry’’ is all you hear before you completely zone out.

As your phone falls into your lap, tears begin to flood from your eyes. This couldn’t be real. The medium was always so careful, never going into anything alone, always reading situations and sometimes even deciding against certain gigs in order to keep her and her crew safe. You think back to the times where she told you she was filming in a hotel and the horror stories that caused you to have nightmares for weeks.

You stand up, walk up to the kitchen to make yourself more coffee. Through the window you can see that the sun has climbed a little higher up the sky.

She couldn’t be gone, you think, pouring coffee into your mug, your Billie couldn’t be gone, you keep thinking to yourself before your vision eventually fills with little stars and black spots at the same time, the crying and hyperventilating causing your body to shut down. Protecting you from the grasp the awful news has had on you.

There’s a burn then, on your hands. You look down to see your mug lying in pieces on the floor, something dark trickling down your fingers. Oh well, you think. Billie’s dead.

When you come to your senses next, you’re standing in the living-room yet again. The TV is still on, and on the screen you see someone smiling and then another person is running on a beach. It would be nice, you think, to go to the sea this summer with Billie. You both enjoy the sea air and you would love to see again what Billie looks like in the Mediterranean sun. Maybe Italy, you think, making your way back towards the kitchen. Billie loves Italy. And the light there - so bright and intense and pouring gold onto her face so you could see every small detail of it, and weaving gold into her hair, and flashing gold into her eyes, and -

Oh well, you think. But Billie’s dead.

A sob tears through your throat as the depth of the news slowly begins sinking in. You can’t breathe, you realize vaguely - and then it hits you all at once - you can’t breathe.

Panic shoots through your veins as you lean against the kitchen counter for support, fingers scratching at your shirt collar, trying to scratch through it at bare skin to maybe let some air in because you can’t breathe and Billie isn’t here and shouldn’t she be here by now? But Tristana had said, and Billie was -

A gasp.

You wake up with a jerk. It’s like being pushed into the world for a second time, or reality reclaiming its place. The solid bed under your body, the walls of your room, the sunlight streaming in through your window. It had all been a terrible dream.

You sink back into the bed with a breath of relief.

Your chest feels tight, your cheeks damp from crying. The birds outside your window are chirping happily, not remotely matching the deep sadness you are feeling, the shock still very present, rippling through your body. Trying to open your eyes, you immediately squeeze them shut again, the reality of facing today way too terrifying. Usually Billie and you would spend your Sunday mornings together, cuddling in each other's arms, having coffee together before Billie would sneak to the balcony for a smoke and you would sneak up on her to scare her before hugging her. Today, even this feels like too heavy a task.

Heavily, you roll over to reach for Billie on her side of the bed. Your fingertips brush against the sheet only to find emptiness.

Your eyes flash open.

“Billie?” you call out, weakly. It doesn’t make sense : Billie likes to sleep in on Sunday mornings. She would never miss an opportunity to cuddle in bed with you while the world outside slowly stirs. It doesn’t make sense, you think again, and panic gives another wild, violent kick in your chest.

“Billie?” You sit up on the bed, arms shaking. “What…? Billie?” It’s merely a whisper, a frightened little thing, too scared to carry. On trembling legs you quickly cross to the door and call out again.

Billie isn’t in the living-room either. The kitchen is empty. So is the bathroom, and all the stupid corridors in-between, and the backyard basks lazily in the sun.

“Billie where the fuck are you?” you croak out. The birds sing something lovely and sweet back at you.

But it was just a dream, you think, leaning against the wall for support as you try to suck air in. Billie’s gone out to buy some fancy breakfast, or she got an emergency call, or - it was just a dream.

Is she away for work? You can’t remember. You can’t think through the panic. Is she actually working? You could have sworn she was lying in bed with you just a few minutes before. But is she actually somewhere off chasing spirits, some haunted mansion you can’t remember facing death and risking her life and dying?

In the living-room lies one of Billie’s spring coats, lazily draped over the back of a chair. You could swear she had worn it just the day before, had dropped it there somewhat carelessly because It was but an old thing, worn, with a frayed sleeve anyway, and she had said it would be so nice to take you shopping with her so she could get a new one. Numbly you reach for it, press the fabric between your thumb and index.

You close your eyes, try to take deep, slow breaths instead of the pathetic, frightened little huffs that are hurting your chest. You try to think through the panic - is Billie actually at work? The panic closes in on you with a horrible smile.

And it’s too much, too much space that Billie should have occupied but doesn’t, and too much sun and too many lovely bird songs. Half sobbing, half wheezing, you stumble back to the bedroom with Billie’s coat clutched to your chest, pressing the soft fabric to damp cheeks and breathing in the scent that still clings to it. Cigarette smoke and lemon.

You collapse on the bed and draw the cover over your head and in the dim light you close your eyes. If the world refuses to make sense then you would block it out till it got reasonable again.

You curl in on yourself and bury your face in Billie’s coat and breathe in the cigarette smoke and lemon scent as you cry.

Your thoughts are interrupted as the sound of heels fills your ears, the all too familiar sound immediately makes you feel sick, your face growing pale and tears continuing to stream down your cheeks. You squeeze your knees to your chest, rocking back and forth, head shaking as the tapping of the heels comes closer with each second passing.

,,Babydoll?’’ you hear, her voice still sounding so real and her features very visible in your memory.

As you eventually come to your senses and peek out from under the cover, you see the medium walking in, the soft glow from the sun rising behind you, coating her perfect features. ,,Billie’’ you begin sobbing uncontrollably.

The tapping of the heels starts again as she approaches, her features filled with concern and confusion.

Suddenly you feel the bed dip a little, as she tries reaching out for you. You back away, into the comfort of the sheets wrapped around you. Billie had told you about her work a few times, the ghosts that had haunted the families she worked with, and of course you believed her, watching her show frequently and her asking you to be on set with her but this was something else.

,,Sweetheart, look at me’’ she coos, again trying to reach out. But you back away again, the tricks your mind is playing on you too vivid, too real.

,,I already miss you so much Billie’’ you choke on a sob, unable to face the haunting of your medium in front of you.

,,Darling, please look at me’’ she demands, unable to understand your sobbing form and her concern growing by the minute.

Finally, you muster the courage to look at her and as you do, she cups your cheeks. You gasp at her touch, unable to believe this could be so real. She was dead, right?

But exhaustion was creeping up on you slowly, you couldn’t do anything besides hyperventilate and cry and so as a result, Billie scoops you into her arms, shushing and holding you gently until unconsciousness takes over once again.

Stirring from sleep, your eyes widen as the confusing events from the past few minutes creep up on you. However, a soft set of arms is wrapped around you, shushing you and meeting your gaze. ,,Hey baby’’ the blonde coos softly, wiping some sweat off your forehead and tears from your cheeks.

,,Billie?’’ you coax out, blinking the confusion away. ,,Are you really here?’’ you ask, unable to understand the differences between reality and dreaming anymore.

,,Of course I’m here, where else would I be?’’ she reassures, a little confused herself and lost in her concern about you.

,,Billie?’’ you ask again, your voice barely above a whisper as you fiddle with her hair. ,,Can you kiss me?’’ you ask shyly, needing the confirmation that this wasn’t another dream in your never ending circle of nightmares.

Billie chuckles a little before cupping your cheeks, leaning in closer and capturing your lips into hers, a soft kiss, filled with reassurement and realization.

,,A nightmare’’ you coax out as the two of you pull away from the kiss, in search of oxygen.

,,What was that sweetie?’’ she asks confused before you fill her in on what had happened.

,,I had a nightmare’’ you confess under tears.

,,Oh sweetheart, what happened?’’ she coos, rubbing soothing circles on your back to comfort you.

,,You died’’ you begin, tears streaming down your cheeks ,,I woke up and got a call and then.. phone call and .. told me you died’’ you carry on, your words coming out rushed, your voice filled with panic.

,,Sweetie, hey hey, I only went to get some breakfast for us, sweetheart’’ she explains. “Some croissants from the bakery around the corner, it was just a nightmare’’

“Oh,” you say. Your cheeks flush pink, eyes stinging with mingled relief and embarrassment.

Billie smiles, her eyes a little clouded with worry still. “I thought I’d surprise you. Cozy breakfast in bed, what do you say? I got your favorite coffee, too. I thought we could be lazy today.”

You swallow in shame and look down at your hands. Through the sheen of tears they blur. In a flash you realize - the skin there is immaculate. There’s no red angry burn stain from the coffee you thought you had spilled on it earlier. You blink to try and see better, force your tears back. You run, shaking fingertips over the back of your left hand, just to be sure, but there’s no pain, not even an itch, and it fills you with sudden joy that almost makes you drunk with relief.

You jerk your head up again, triumphantly. A small smile plays on Billie’s lips, hesitant as she searches your eyes, trying to interpret your quick shifts from fear to triumph to fear again. Her palm rubs one last soothing circle on your back before moving away, but before you have time to protest she takes your hand in hers.

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m not sure I know what’s real anymore,” you say. You look down at your hands again, tears falling from your cheeks. “I’m not sure I can trust whether you’re really here.”

,,Pumpkin, I promise you I’m real’’ Billie coos, brushing her hand across your cheek to wipe away the tears.

“But how do I know that?” It’s louder this time, and you dare a glance up at her, despair making you brave. “How can I be sure?”

“Well,” Billie starts. She shifts a little closer to you on the bed, and you feel yourself leaning towards her, seeking out her warmth. There’s a pause, as Billie thinks. Her thumb is running across your knuckles, slow, repetitive movements, meant to soothe.

“How can I be sure?” you urge her. You clench her hand tighter, refuse to look away from her now, because you need to know, need her to save you.

Billie hums a little comforting sound and presses one warm palm against your cheek. She tries to pull you into her, but you pull away, unwilling to break eye contact with her for now. You need to see her, need to see for yourself that she is real. Through the fear and confusion flashes the idea that maybe, if you blink, she’d disappear, be dead again, and you out of her reach.

“Well,” Billie starts again. The caress of her thumb over your knuckles is grounding, and you try to focus on that, and the smell of spring and sunshine that clings to her clothes. Surely the dead don’t smell like that. “At work sometimes the people I help have trouble remembering their world is real, too. It can get a little bit messy when you spend too much time in the company of spirits. Sometimes your mind gets confused. It used to happen to me as well when I was younger. Stumbling across your cousin sipping Bloody Marys on your couch when you buried him two weeks ago can be quite a shock.”

You chuckle at that, but stay silent, urging her to go on.

“When that happens, I’ve found anchoring yourself in facts does wonders. Whatever they are, the most random of facts, like stating the color of the sky or explaining how sexy your girlfriend is.”

“Billie,” you chastise, trying to bite down on a smile. Billie gives your hand a squeeze, flashes a grin at you.

“Do you remember the day I took you ice skating, sweetheart?’’ she asks softly, trailing her fingers through your hair.

Your gaze meets the medium’s, as you think back to your favorite day with Billie. ,,Do you remember the dorky selfie we took that you adore so much?’’ she chuckles a little now as you simply nod again. And just like that, Billie takes you back to that day, that moment.

Tears brim in your eyes. ,,It’s me baby, I’m right here, it was just a very nasty dream’’ she carries on, before kissing your nose.

,,I love you Billie’’ you whisper, slowly coming back from your daze and into the real world. ,,I love you so much pumpkin and I will always be here for you, right here’’ she promises before squeezing you in a big hug.

‘’Now, want me to show you how real I actually am?’’ she smirks suggestively, before leaning in to capture your lips in a very much real kiss.

#Billie Dean howard #Billie Dean Howard x reader #Sarah paulson #Sarah paulson x reader #ahs #American horror story #ahs hotel #ahs apocalypse

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pieroulette · 11 months

Text

CAMELLIA'S FATE

"Would you come?"

2023 | 13+ | ONESHOT × 6k | TATTOOIST! PARK JAY × READER

SUMMARY was it a string of fate when your bestfriend claimed your art as her own, that not even after six years does it suffice the desire for revenge blooming in your heart, claiming it as a call for making it even—that you stumble upon a tattoo studio, and your eyes falling upon the same flower on a young man's neck.

WARNING/GENRE emptiness, lost of passion (?), slight profanity, angst, fluff, romance, reader is a painter!

AUTHOR'S NOTE a short story I wrote during a period of writing and art block. well, it ain't that short anymore 💀

“Huh.. What should I do?” You pouted with your head buried deep inside your arms as another art block hit you like a truck.

Studies had by far consumed your life to the point you couldn’t grab the paintbrush between your fingers and create something, and now that the semester had ended, that you had free time laid across in front of you like a vast ocean waiting for you to swim through it, you couldn’t.

It was as if something is holding you back which had you wondering if this was the end for your childhood passion?

Draw something simple. You thought. But it seriously ain’t that simple to brush the tips of your paintbrush against the gigantic canvas. Still.. You lowered your neck, utimately focusing your orbs onto your paper, hoping or waiting for something to come out of it.

What would it be? A person? A furniture? The nightsky? The empty can on the edge of the desk beside you? What is it?

Your finger swayed the paintbrush across the canvas over and over again but to your dismay, nothing came out of it — only scribbles of something you couldn’t comprehend, in which you originally thought of a house.

Your phone's screen turns on with a notification popping up along the lockscreen.

[11:49PM] Somi<3: hiyaa, the competition’s gettin close :( i’m nervous

[11:49PM] you: that’s fine *patpat* you’re so good at art, pretty sure you’ll get top 1 yk

[11:56PM] Somi<3: reallyyy? ><

[11:57PM] you: ofc ofc, now just get to your hmw and just keep practicing :3

The flamboyant flower showcasing it’s magnificent beauty up on the ceiling, the engraved pattern across your ceilings, you remember that you once stepped on the ladder when your parents were renovating your room and you took the chance to did so despite the danger. Painting over the ceiling with the pink-stained paint brush between your tiny fingers, with a smile so wide and bright, eyes crinkling to half moons as you did so.

Well, the flower you drew turn out horrible to say the least, with the outline wavery and inconsistent, the colours were not bold enough on some parts and some of them going past the outline.

Eyebrows twitching upon the sight, you scoffed in a lighthearted laugh. No matter how ugly it was to be honest, it had managed to stay that long.

Long enough to not be erased by the changes of time, the plants grew old, the furniture had their paints peeled off, the tv in the living room had begun glitch off, the store you’ve been to had been shut down for whatever reason, and even the star in the sky exploded to ashes when the time has come. But for whatever reason it has, the flower you drew on the ceiling yet still manage to look as beautiful as ever. You let out a giggle at the thought of that maybe the drawn flower had a purpose that’s why it was still boldly alive in sight.

Without much thought and the smile still ever so bright on your lips, you begun to draw on the paper with the flower in thought—wishing for your efforts to pay off, cause that's how it works right?

However, jokes on you, your efforts was futile.

Truly futile.

Your vision turning into a field of vagueness as your tears drowned you into the deep ocean — those that held spike up thorns below the sea.

Why are you crying? Why aren’t you fighting back?

Tightening your fist so tight that your nails began to hurt your palms, there was nothing really left to fight back anymore since you aint got nothing left anymore when the fruits of your efforts were ripped away from you with no mercy nor one glance of contempt for all of their eyes were on—

Her.

“Somi! Congratulations! You did really well!”

A giggle so loud and so annoying it clutches your heart within, there she was in her brightest glory; bouquets of flowers beneath her arms, bright blonde silk hair going down her uniform skirt—those that you once brushed with a hair comb back then. That piece of beige hairband that had the signature butterfly pattern on it, one that matched with the one on your hair right now.

Seeing her gave you nothing but resentment and anger.

One by one, each and one of them in line up in the stage as they congratulated her for winning the top prize of the masterpiece of an art, something she said was her own.

Bullshit. It wasn't yours. Thus you screamed in the back of your mind, head so low you could see nothing but your tears staining the red carpeted floor. The raging applause submerging you into more pain, pain and pain! You couldn’t take it anymore, the scene that mocks you to your very core; the girl that you claim as your bestfriend stole everything from you and yet, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up and walk straight to her and give her a piece of your mind.

For it’s no use, the only thing it would do was ruin your reputation and you can’t do that. You know you can’t do that. You can’t..

You stood up on your feet with eyes glaring deep at the girl herself, who in turn finally noticed you after awhile. Your breath hitched in so deep when you observed the corner of her lips tugging up to her cheeks, and her brown orbs stared at you in a mere contempt.

That alone was sufficient for one sentence to arise inside your starving soul for revenge, You’ll fall. Just like that flower behind you. One day you will.

At last, you turned your back out of spite–full in rage as you did so. With the spectacle of a scene behind you holding a thousand emotions of joy, flashes of camera filled the entire room.

“Somi! Look at here!”

“1, 2..” flashes of the camera consumed the entire space every few seconds, “3!”

“The painting truly is breathtaking, isn’t?” two women from behind marvels at the colossal canvas before them.

“Truly it is, that painter is so talented it’s making me jealous.” The other in turn, giggled.

“Well, it does takes an effort to reach such prestigious level.”

You returned home, dropping your bag on the ground as you did so, taking the jug to pour a water in the glass. The dim light from outside reflected against the glass, forming a sea-like diamonds. But you knew, it didn’t came from the glass.

Your source of inspiration, your muse. All was vain, truly futile. Hoping that it would turn out well. Except it didn’t turn well.

Your very source of inspiration and effort had been stolen, now leaving you with nothing but emptiness. You were nothing and you had nothing now.

The wooden paintbrush snapped into separate pieces as you smashed it against the floor, a mockery metaphor of yourself. It has been months. Months it was since that incident occured and ever since then you couldn’t find the heart to lay the tip of the paintbrush against the canvas anymore.

As if something was missing from your heart, what is this? It felt like you no longer have the love for painting anymore, it felt like there was nothing to let out anymore even when you have dozens and dozens of ideas kept hidden in your journal, something you occasionally wrote onto whenever you had burst of ideas.

And yet, when you took them out, when you tried to paint again—there was no beat that rang through your ears and hug your heart. It’s suffocating. It’s too empty.

“I don’t like.. To paint anymore?..” a question you laid out against yourself, merely vibrating through the entire studio. Your dark orbs fell on your palms as you splayed it before you, “Please.. Come back.”

“Give it up, (Name). There’s no way you could do anything against her parents..” your classmate mumbled as she took another bite from her ice cream. "You can always make another painting again?"

Those words rang deep in your mind, mocking your very soul. It ain't that easy. Pouring your entire soul to a creating a piece is like raising your own child with utmost affection and care, and to have it mercilessly rip apart from you is akin to ripping your soul away as well.

A hollow, hollow hole inside your body that you were unable to see—only grew even bigger and wider.

Weeping in the corner of your room, as you buried your face in comfort of your arms. “W-was it my fate that it had to be this way?”

「6 YEARS LATER」

“I apologise but we don’t take any customers who don’t do an appointment first.” the man apologetically bow down, surprised you were but didn’t protest.

How could you? You gulped down your throat in embarrassment as your orbs darted around the studio's signboard;

Quite a bit embarrassed to say the least that you didn’t plan it first but what can you do? You bow down parallel to the ground, turning towards the street as impatience consumed you. You raise your wrist, staring at your watch with the small arrow pointing towards 11 am—a few hours left before 4pm—the ticking clock signifying the end.

You couldn't afford to wait another week and find another tattoo store. Not anymore.

It has been 6 years since that fateful day, a horrendous fate you simply wishes you could forget but life is too miserable to let you to even do so—not when your eyes fell on the devil—your ex best-friend's face was splattered on the billboard, interviews, offers, every single thing had her on the pinnacle of the world.

Because of your artwork. From the very beginning, it’s not that she wasn’t good at art, heck she was talented in it but didn’t care enough to put an effort for the final competition. She even told you and persuade you to join instead, but foolish you were that you didn’t realise she was a double edge sword. Two parts of you were wishing for her demise, and another wishing that she would soon realise her mistake and come begging at you but you know that won’t happen.

The world, and it’s people are far too prideful to admit their mistakes, after all. We all trample on each other, and only very few people can manage to be selfless. It’s not that being selfish is bad, nor being selfless is—and there will be a time where we are forced to put ourself or another, yet what you couldn’t accept was when they deliberately chose to do so.

That’s what you can never forgive. It’s unforgivable.

6 horrendous years of lifetime wasted upon a single betrayal—back then you were 19, now you were 25.

Since the days of your spring, you always wanted to have a tattoo, not a flamboyant one, a simple one that is for a simple reminder to accompany you throughout your life but now you couldn't have thought that it would be through this way.

A few days ago, you've heard that Somi's public fansign will be held at the city, which is today. You've been waiting for this very day. Clutching the labeled tiny bottle in your hands had you taking a deep breathe, fear consumed your veins as you imagine how her face would evaporate once you threw this on her. Sure, you were breathing but there was no root of life anywhere inside you anymore, so why would she?

Today should be her last day, however she should be grateful as she won't be alone in the underworld, after all. You'll escort her back to where she truly belongs judging by what she did to you.

“Miss!" You paused on your tracks immediately. "You don’t have to leave, I can do it for you.” a breathless sigh emits from the man behind you.

“But—! That’s against the rules. You knew Sir. Park would-”

“It’s okay, I got my last client done so I’m free anyways. Plus, you wouldn’t blow up my cover, wouldn’t you?”

The other guy ruffled through his hair, simply sighing in return. “Ugh, fine.”

A chuckle emits from the person who called for you. “I knew I could count on you.”

You slowly turned to the man in question—jet black shirt, rolled over sleeves, tall frame, black slicked hair, pair of silver round earrings, metal piercing on the top of his ear, tattoos of what you make out to be florals adorning the left side of his neck since his collars hid almost a part of it, and that radiant smile of his. His eyes glowing and his cheeks growing—a stark contrast from his outer appearance.

Hot. That's it. He's drop dead hot.

"Miss—" the man's gleaming eyes fell on your shorter frame, pausing for a millisecond before clearing his throat, gesturing his hands inside the studio. "This way."

"U-uhm, thank you."

He guided you inside the shop where a leather foldable chair was laid across the centre of the room, and a bunch of containers with tools specifically made for tattooing was placed on the table.

You sat on top of it, making yourself comfortable but somehow you choke on your saliva when the boy sat on another chair, leaning a tad bit close far to your own liking. Or was it just really your first time that the close proximity caught you off guard?

"So?" almost akin to a dropping melody, your stomach evaporates with his voice much to your surprise. "What kind of tattoo would like to have on your skin?” He asked, still having radiance adorning his face, the question were voice out too lively and joyous for no reason.

He's hot. You gotta admit that, but drooling at this point won't get you anywhere. Too bad, you met him a tad bit late or else you would've make a first move.

"M-miss?"

"Oh! My bad, my bad." You brush it off nonchalantly, clearing your throat.

Seems like this type of job doesn't do any justice to him, in your opinion. You’d expected that tattooist would perhaps be cold and indifferent, however he was no close to your impression of one. But does your opinion matter? So you kept it and stayed silent from voicing out such hasty words just like before.

“A flower.” you fiddled through your bag, mentally cussing yourself for a whole minute before your fingers came into contact with the cold metal—finally swiping through your gallery and handing your phone to the man.

His dark brown orbs beams alike the sun rays as a noticeable grin pulled up within his cheeks which made you raised your eyebrow in confusion.

"I have the same tat, if you want to see just for example of how it would look like on yours." Excitement laced his voice.

Appalled by his suggestion, you simply replied. "Sure."

Jay didn't expected you to simply agree so quick, which had him letting out a few coughs in attempts to conceal his initial shock.

Quite flustered inside but his outer demeanour remain calm and composed as his fingers made their way through the hem of his collars, each one unbuttoning his shirt till it was enough for his collarbone and chest to be half exposed, revealing the masterpiece adorning his skin.

You didn't expect yourself to be this surprised or even speechless, yet it was truly gorgeous over how the patterns were carefully drilled into his skin and how the outline were so bold and lively despite its colours being only grey and black. You almost forgot that you loathe this flower alot, to be honest.

You inhaled a deep breathe, blinking utterly slow to take in the beauty. "So pretty. D-did you got this from someone or?"

"I did it myself.." Jay replied in a nonchalant manner, yet goosebumps washed over his skin as you leaned closer observing his tattoos in amazement. His orbs rattled against the walls, trying his best to avoid looking at you. Now that he wonder after an eternity watching the walls, has it always been this dirty? Gulping with his lips pressed tight. "W-would you like the exact same as this then, or something different?"

He breathe a long sigh after you fixed your posture, his hands fiddled the hems of his black sleeve to dampened his rampant heart—wondering if you could hear it a moment ago.

"Something like this, however I think.. It would look like we are having matching tattoos then.” You let out a small giggle at that thought, rosy hues dusted off his cheeks when you mention that particular sentence. “Ah, I want it to have a color then. That way, it won’t seem like it.”

Jay's nails dug under his chair, his arms frozen as he processed your words from within.

"Did I said?.."

"No, no— Nothing wrong with that." You observed him pressing his lips tight in an awkward manner as he stood up, the chair creaking as he did so. Standing he did, before the shelves filled with numerous ink bottles of all colours and shades. His hand gestured over them, attentive he was you observed, seemingly waiting for your answer. "I’ll get the color for you then.. Which one?”

"Hm,” pointing your index finger towards the ink bottle with the label, “Red”

His fingers quickly wrapped itself around the bottle, focusing on the label for a good three seconds looking back at you, pulling up a small smile. “Red, I see? That’s a pretty good choice. It’s apparently rare for me to have clients choosing red for tats.”

“Really? That’s new to me.”

“Yep, then.. what kind of red would you like on your camellia?” Again, he stood before a shelf with red ink bottles with all different shades.

Sighing, you stood up, brushing the bottles but not almost to avoid being rude by touching someone’s else personal tools and supplies. It didn’t go unnoticed how the young man beside you, were immensely focused at where your fingers go on about.

“How about ruby?” you gestured your index finger towards the specific labeled bottle, a memory of the gigantic canvas flashes through your mind. “ I don’t like it too bright, actually.” Better if it’s darker in shade—that it would serve her mind till engraved in her soul, the very fruit of her own actions towards you.

Jay lapped his tongue over his lower lip, gulping down his throat as he nodded. “Very well then.”

Nodding as you went back to your seat, it caught you off guard when your eyes fell on the man. Clearing your throat to get his attention, "U-uhm, sir?"

His left eyebrow raised in confusion, doe eyes enveloping your form and it didn't help at all with what you're seeing right now.

"Your shirt.." you held the need to say anything further considering how his eyes ogled out at his exposed torso, giggling awkwardly he did as he buttoned his shirt back. "L-let's get it started then?"

"Alright!"

"So, where do you want to have it on your skin?" He asked, which to you was a bit vague. "On your arm? Your hand? Or.. your back?"

"Hm?" Your eyebrow furrowed at every body part he mentioned, and it only deepens the more your brain processed it. Oh fuck, right. How did I even forgot? "H-ow about m-my neck?"

Pain, that's all you thought. But you seriously wanted the tattoo to be as obvious as fuck for your ex best friend's eyes to ogle at. So you were in utter dilemma. "It.. doesn't hurt that bad, right..?"

"The neck is the most painful part to get a tattoo."

Well shit, I'm screwed. You whimpered as your back slouched in devastation, forget about revenge—you're seriously a dumbo for doing a last minute plan. Your eyes darting over the wall and to the patient man standing before you, you held the need to pout.

Jay noticing your dilemma, cleared his throat. "How about the side of your neck? Just like mine? It doesn't hurt that bad, actually."

"Are.. you sure?" Forming a comforting smile, he nodded. "Alright.."

"Alright! So.." Jay held the need to blink like a maniac as he gestured to your collar, "Your collar, we need to tattoo the side.. of your neck right?"

"Huh..?"

Oh.. right. How did you even forget? Your cheeks began to heat up by the thought as you slowly unbuttoned your shirt, your shoulders slightly exposed as it dangled off.

Your body froze on it's own when his delicate touch brushes against your bare arms, his right hand pulling up your right sleeve back to your shoulder. You didn't realise him closing the distance with you as you were in your deep thought, holding your head low in attempts to avoid his dark grey orbs looking into your soul. Yet his voice causes tingles around your neck, goosebumps washing over your skin.

"We just need the side of your neck, okay..?" Delicate to touch, the twinkles of his eyes met yours. "Relax."

Those blooming bouquets—a symbol of mockery to you along with the gigantic canvas you've created with nothing but pure efforts were presented before everyone as her's. Those silky blonde hair that dangled off her shoulders simply flooding your eyes with tears. That smug look of hers that resurfaced after people were gone, which was evidently for you.

A set of bustling applauses filled the space, a melody to her ears and a mockery to your existence—causing the ground beneath you to shatter into a neverending hollow sinkhole.

“Agh!-”

The sight of the beige-coloured ceiling was what met your wide shot eyes for a whole minute before the drilling pain brought you back to reality, causing your mouth to hang apart—whimpering with every contact of the needle.

“It might hurt, but it has to be something you got to bear if you want the camellia on your skin..”

You almost forgot, how could you even? Your dazed orbs slowly fell on his face as he keeps talking to you even when you couldn't really understand him—his voice soothes the strings of your heart so much it had you calm down instantly despite the tip of the needle punching under your skin every millisecond.

Vagueness encircled around your vision, yet his portrait remain crystal clear due to the close proximity—his faint cherry lips moving with motion as he uttered inaudible words, the set of dust particles fleeting across the tip of his nose, hitting the sun rays from behind him. His eyelashes fluttering in a delicate motion as he remained immensely focused—he seems fitted enough to be your muse, doesn't he?

"You slept really well." He said, causing your cheeks to burn in embarrassment. Now that he mentioned it, you did slept judging by how much time had passed since the session started.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, wondering if you were his only client that fell asleep during session. Holding the need to cringe as you imagine yourself sleeping ever so comfortably before a stranger. "U-uh? Am I the..?"

He hummed in return, but before you could even explode. "It's nice though, that's how I know I'm doing good." The apples of his cheeks grew wider, melting your heart to a dripping honey.

At some point, the pain was nonexistent, partly of it because of his advice, and partly was observing him throughout the entire session.

“If I may ask, why do you want to have a flower as a tattoo?” He asked, which to you was kind of abrupt.

“Don’t you have any customers that like a flower tattoo before?” you asked him suspiciously in which he let out a soft giggle, amused by your reaction.

He shook his head ever so little as he smiled, “Of course I did, just a bit curious about.. you.”

Huh, flirty I see. You hummed inside your head, a bit amused.

"I could say the same thing to you too, why of all things—a flower was your last pick?" you asked him.

"It saved my life."

Ha, saved his life? What a stark contrast that flower did to you and him. While it saves him, it brings destruction to you instead. These ferocious petals serve a whole different meaning to you and him.

"You?.."

“There isn’t anything interesting in particular, just something I..” you paused in between, trying to carefully pick out your words, “Have to do in order to make something alive again.”

“I understand.” his lips tugged up in a small smile, and the rest soon formed into a calming solitude. You expected him to raise another question out of curiosity but to your surprise, he didn't. Somehow, it brought a calming river to your heart that he simply choses not to.

You weren’t quite sure if he notice since he was too absorbed in what he was doing which is pretty understandable, either way you watched him as if he was a scenery or more like a season, if it was a season then—cold spring would be the perfect season to describe him altogether.

He’s hot, you gotta admit. Not that you were so into him, but you gotta give it to the fact that he had that aura that somehow pulls you into wanting to know more about him, atleast, or you can call it curiosity at the best.

“Your name?” you blurted out without much thought. After all, what could go wrong in asking a simple name? After all, this would be the last time.

“M-my name?”

“Hm.. yes.” you raised your eyebrow at him, noticing that he’s a bit slow at picking things up despite his cold upfront aura.

“Jay. You can call me Jay.” he looks down, eyelashes fluttering.

“Mr. Jay.." the name tasted like melody on your tongue, "Suits you pretty well.”

You could notice that he was truly shy, a stark contrast from the tats adorning the side of his neck and down to his arms. “What’s yours?..”

“(Name).”

“It suits you too, (Name).” Simple and straightforward, yet it felt so comforting to hear him imitate your way of speech.

“Thank you-” your breath caught in the back of your throat when his pretty dark orbs looked deep into your soul.

“S-sorry.” He mumbled as his eyebrows knitted together.

“Never mind bout it,” you brush it off, but appalled by those unusual reactions that you can’t seem to get used to. “I-it hurts.. though."

“Oh right-”

He hummed in the back of his throat, those chords of his voice vibrating through your eardrums as the passage of time flowed. The chill atmosphere enveloped your form—despite the drilling tool under your inner skin—hushing you back to slumber despite your efforts trying to resist it. However pitch darkness consumed your vision, and you heard his voice echoing through your slumber. "Sleep well, miss."

Jay observes your eyes falling into deep slumber, taking another look at the labeled 'ruby' bottle for a few moments and back again to your ragged out form that he somehow founds to be emitting solemn. You seem tired, sad, and that you seem to have been crying for god knows how long, it was a baseless assumption, for sure. But he could feel it. Somehow, you reminded him of the day he was like you before.

Softened breeze a few minutes ago has formed into a harsh punch to his face, that belongs to a particular someone as he to felt it against his skin.

“You can’t see a thing! How can you even paint? How can you even?!”

Cans of filled up paints scattered on the floor, while the the dripping colourful shades dripped from his splayed fingers to the ground, biting his lip in desperation, he answered in full blown outrage.

“It’s not my fault that I can’t see anything! Besides, color is not the only medium for art!”

“This won’t do, this is hopeless. You’re hopeless.” The man shook his head, eyes filled with both contempt and annoyance, and with that he stormed off. “Give up, people like you who can never see colors aren’t fitted for this industry. Just give up, Jay."

The thought of his father's words voicing it rang like an ominous bell across the empty labyrinth of the mind and heart of the young man himself.

The door slammed before his solemn, broken form, drenched on colours he could never had the chance to differentiate.

Voice so hoarse it sound so pitiful with the mixture of the empty nightsky. He looks up to prevent any more tears to fall down his cheeks. "What a joke..” a breathless sigh puff up in the air mixing with the tiny dust orbs, tears of moonlight called out for help. “Ah. Was it fate that I had to be born this way?”

He turns his phone open after a short sigh of pain, ragged fingers and chip nails scrolls through the countless pictures of stranger splattered across the internet—smiles, laughter, eyes crinkling akin to half moons with their fingers wrapped around the shiny wine glass as they raise it up to the ceiling, another one has their parents standing on their either side for their graduation photo, swipe down a tiny bit more—and a sweet picture perfect of a small family reflected against his dark orbs.

“Huh..?” the tip of his finger glued against the glowing screen as his eyes hovered on it, pupil dilating as it continued to observe the painting slowly. His breath caught to the very back of his throat, his lungs tightening as it took all it got, tongue remain frozen to the edges of his teeth as his mind tried to make out of what he was seeing.

Monochromes. The shades akin to a graveyard and the deafening silence of crow engulfing his sight but.. Intricate patterns of something flew across his eyes, where was it? He looked up, head snapping to where that object flew to. Gone. Gone it was.

What was that? He looked down at his phone again, the painting; the canvas was massive, with dried acrylic paint on the edges, and the composition laying on between where it’s main character was no man nor woman, nor a child nor an animal, neither a furniture nor a statue but..

A single flower standing out against everything.

“It’s so b-beautiful..” sniffing as he stuttered, pausing in between as he finally kept his eyes closed, not noticing that he had it opened wide and bright in taking the colossal beauty of it that it had grew dry with the wind hitting right against it. As he fluttered it open, his eyes was greeted by the mesmerizing beauty once again.

He couldn’t make out of what kind of color it was yet it’s wholly captivating, perfectly showcasing the artistic skills of the creator—efforts evident, and passion enveloping the gigantic canvas.

“I wonder what is it called?”

An unnamed flower unfolding it’s monochrome robes to the core of his heart, it felt as if he finally had a reason to live for.

"Camellia." Jay breathe out as he meticulously drilled the ink into your skin, taking a form of the flower he wholeheartedly adore. Flowers, it was surely not his first time to have a client wishing for a flower as a tattoo, and surely you won't be the last client either. But the fact that you asked for a specific flower that holds a tremendous meaning to him—brought him inner solace and bliss that you gave him the chance to do so.

For sure, it wasn't probably your intention. But Jay still would like to think of that, nevertheless.

Imitation is the best form of flattery, it shows how you're adamant and determined to be as skilled as the one you look up to regardless of art form. As the passage of time stretched even further, so does the artist himself; each soul grows to their own uniqueness.

And to Jay, himself—he aspires to be as good as the artist that created the painting—the fact that the artist had such blazing passion and skills that it brought the whistles of life to his soul, brought him a tiny doses of envy. But it was those emotions, that kept him going through all seasons despite the obstacles.

His eyes fell on your sleeping face once again, wishing for you to be happy once you see it, hoping that it would bring you the same effect the way it did to him. "(Name)."

"Just give up," familiarity yet indifference laced the blonde haired's aura, her crimson lips pulled up to her cheeks—forming a menacing smirk. "No one would believe you, (Name)."

Rattling orbs shot wide open, your hands clutched your chest—rampant heart behind those ribs vibrating through your eardrums. The dream, no the memories—pulling you back to your ugly reality.

Confused, you raised your eyes—looking for Jay, yet he was nowhere to be found in the midst of the silent space. Your eyes fell upon the clock on the wall before you, it’s arrows pointing towards a sunset hour making your jaw dropped slightly.

2:54pm—exactly one hour left before the fateful hour. You faltered for too long, didn’t you?

"Hey, you're awake." Jay's long fingers fiddled deep his pockets, approaching you from behind.

"Oh, um. Why didn't you wake me up?"

Taken aback but regained his composure just as quickly, "Just.. you've been sleeping really well. So I thought I'd let you get a few more hours, you know."

"Ah," you found yourself a tad bit wavered by his words, tucking the hair strands covering your vision behind your ear. A genuine smile adorned your lips, feeling grateful for his seemingly insignificant consideration. "Thank you.."

“No p-problem, so why don’t you look at it?” Jay's eyes darted over the chair beside him, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked back at you again, on a particular spot on your neck.

Only then you realise the stinging pain on your collarbone. You turned towards the mirror behind you, stroking your finger against the faint red and stinging spot.

It hurts. But it was worth it as the engraved intricate petals adorning your neck, was a sugary sight to your eyes. “It’s so pretty.” you swallowed a lump of saliva down your throat in attempts to prevent the salty tears forming in your eyes, for it truly was breathtaking to look at.

You captured the sight of his familiar beaming smile harmonising with his eyes as always from the mirror's reflection, evidently proud of his artwork adorned on your skin.

Smiling at yourself, you swiftly turn the chair facing him. Standing up on your feet, you leaned in closer—not that close, but enough to take some reaction out of him that you wanted to see once more before you go. One last time.

“Thank you, Mr. Jay.” you said, "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have the chance to.. you know."

“I-it’s my pleasure, Miss (Name).” he looks away, abashed in silence yet the rosy hues on the apple of his cheeks were giving it away for you.

“Well then, I’d have to go.”

You weren't sure if it was a fragment of your imagination—that his dark grey orbs seems to lose sun rays within it. However the twinkles of his eyes returned as he gave another smile to you clenched your heart this time, as you walked through the hallway you entered a few hours ago. Feeling a bit emotional, unfortunately.

Pausing just before the entrance's edge, turning your heels around to take another look at your favourite smile, “I wish you a good day.”

"Have a good day, too." Jay nodded, feeling a bit lost at the sight of the soft strands of your hair flowing down the twinkle of your half-moon smiles as it reflected in grey hues of the sunlight.

Facing the long street ahead of you with a decided destination, you raise your arms—waving your hand at the boy without looking back. You weren't sure if he was still there, maybe.. he wasn't looking anymore. You didn't dare to turn your head so as to not raise any hope, not anymore. Not gonna lie, you wish you could stay a bit more.

A destination that leads to the root of your destruction, would you atleast try to hold yourself? Maybe not, this tattoo on your neck serves a reminder of your ruined life—to finally get it even with her.

Coal washes over Jay's vision like fleeting dust.

He, himself, had always been in a state of dust particles washing over his monochrome vision. Just like right now as he watches your figure walking off the street— fleeting particles follow you from behind, encircling around your motion. The colours he couldn't see are for sure muted and distant, however your energy brought this monochromes into blooming hues.

Somehow it also feels odd to see the flower he adores on a girl he barely knew, a simple name that he can only taste on the tip of his tongue.

But all it was to him, was akin to ashes of coal in different shades. However, you stood and went away in the brightest shade of coal despite the colourless land. Your hair swaying with the breeze as you walk off, the way you carried yourself was something that he couldn't fathom.

Somehow, an ominous thought washes over the back of his mind, constantly pushing it further; would you float away like the passing clouds and never return again? He shakes off the thought, letting out an awkward chuckle. What would he gain from this either way? You were just another client, after all.

Another client.

“Miss!”

Feet stuck on the ground after his voice flew into your ears, your stomach grew butterflies as you turned your head over your shoulder to look at the distraught boy.

“What’s the matter.. Mr. Jay?”

Jay gulped down his throat, avoiding your gaze as he approached you like the motion of fleeting petals. His feet betraying his initial thoughts, causing him to look even more distraught. “I— ah.. forgot to say, but.. you have to come here next week to check your tat twice just for safety measures, you know.”

“Next week?..” raising your eyebrow at the thought, you were appalled that you even hesitated. There’s no more next week, nor a tomorrow—it’s all pointless. Your glistened orbs fell on your dappled yellow shoes. “I don’t think I can. But I appreciate it, Mr. Jay."

His hands behind his back formed into a slight fist.

"B-but.. I don't think the camellia's gonna survive if you let it just like that, you know." Jay took two steps closer, his feet stuck on the ground as the firm breeze brushed the monochrome petals on the side of his neck, just like the freshly engraved on yours. "The colours, I mean."

"Huh..?"

Now that you look at him with the golden hues of the sun infused in his eyes like honey, you've come to notice the desperation, determination and hope evident inside those softened orbs, and most importantly—the silent blooming of affection.

“Would you come?”

#「 talesofyuan 」 fics #enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #enhypen x female reader #enha jay #jay enhypen #jay x reader #enhypen jay #enhypen fluff #enha fluff #enha angst

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seung-scrittore · 1 year

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hey ji, — jisung x reader

📻 … hel- … can anyone … kkchh .. WC: 866 … GN! READER … GENRE: heavy angst, ex-boyfriend! jisung … WARNINGS: arguments, mentions of drinking, mentions of marriage, generally toxic relationship, cursing, mildly suggestive(?) … -over … kchhh ..

a/n … hihi !! so, initially this was for @fae-renjun for kfn’s member exchange event! but they’ve respectably stopped writing, so i let the fic take any direction it pleased. this was angst-ier than i meant it to be… + i was also a super condescending narrator… not proofread… sorry 🫶

throughout your relationship, you’d said countless words to each other. some good, some bad, most meaningless.

though, now that the two of you had separated, the only words that mattered were the things you didn’t say. the unspoken hopes, dreams, truths. your mind yelling at you to reach out, to come to some sort of closure, but your heart ached, far too bitter to make the first amends.

maybe it was for the better, that’s what you told yourself, if you kept your unspoken thoughts to yourself they’d eventually die down. they had to, right?

wrong.

now here you were, months later, the same regret lingering in your mind.

that’s why you’d decided to talk to him, well, if you could call this talking.

hey ji,

writing a letter, isn’t that too old school?

maybe you should’ve called him.

it’s been a while, yeah? i’m doing good.

you missed the way his hands fit perfectly in yours; the gentle forehead kisses he’d give you before he left in the mornings; the way his body felt against yours in the dead of night; you missed jisung. everything about him.

you’d tried your hardest to distract yourself, but you found yourself succumbing to loneliness the second you stepped foot in your house.

you struck out your last sentence with your pen.

i’m not doing too hot, and i don’t mean to bother you about it but damn. ji, i miss you.

on your quest to be a better person, you never considered it would’ve included jisung.

then again, you never would’ve considered that you would regret breaking up with him after everything that's happened. could you really put up with the arguing for the sake of familiarity?

your relationship had put the both of you through unimaginable trouble, all because you were hooked on the feeling of each other; the adrenaline rush that surrounded your relationship.

i don’t think i’m supposed to miss you. i don’t even know if i want to miss you, but i do.

or would it be different… you hadn't considered that. jisung wasn't the type to have a drastic change, neither were you.

god, ji, i miss your smile. i miss it so damn much.

you loved the way his nose would crinkle when he smiled, just like it was crinkling as you looked at it on your lockscreen.

you’d meant to change that. you just hadn’t gotten around to it. or at least that was what you told yourself.

you picked your pen back up, saying what you knew you didn’t have the courage to say to his face.

i miss you.

were you being too naive? writing these letters was one thing, but god, did you miss him? did you actually miss him after everything?

his face appeared in your mind, then his voice was in your ears. he haunted you. he has since he left.

and i hate you for leaving me here.

maybe you were so hung up on jisung because he truly was the one that got away. you don’t think you’d ever feel as satisfied as you did when you were dating jisung.

maybe it was because he managed to make everything feel so… real. it was intense.

intense is the perfect word to describe it, you think. it was intense last summer, when jisung had made you so angry that you’d thrown out his things from your third story apartment window. that was after you kicked him out for getting home shit-faced at two a.m., hah.

or maybe it was because the two of you made each other miserable.

don’t come back.

did the reason really matter? all that mattered was that jisung was gone, for good.

you scribbled over those last few words again.

you make me feel so crazy. so, so crazy.

…maybe he really had changed; maybe if you called him, or met up with him, the two of you could talk it out; maybe he would come back.

your head hurt.

crazy enough to miss your stupid, beat-up converse by the door next to mine.

you thought back on your relationship.

the two of you had been through just about everything a couple can go through.

well, the bad more often than the good. but those good moments— they made up for the fights, the break-ups, the crying.

ji, i can’t tell if that crazy is good or bad.

you could. just like you could tell you were being irrational the time the two of you’d almost gotten married. drunk and hitched in las vegas. lovely, huh?

to this day, you’re still glad minho was there to talk you out of it.

honestly,

glad. yeah, you were glad you hadn’t married jisung.

why hadn’t you thought about that earlier?

i’m sorry for everything, and i forgive you. i don’t know if we ever sat down and said that to each other.

you would never marry jisung, you wouldn’t grow old with him. you would meet someone else. someone that you wanted to marry; someone you would miss more than jisung, that would fill that loneliness you were feeling now.

you hoped he forgave you too. for everything.

goodbye, ji.

… is anyon- … kkkch .. TAGGING: @liumoonlight , @sunoo-bby , @tbzloonar , @noramoons , @hangyeomcult , @septabuspass , @kflixnet , @kwritersworld , @k-labels @straykidsland-main , @kdiarynet … pleas- … -you copy? … kchhh …. 📻

#kflixnet #kdiarynet #straykidsland #k lables #kwritersworldnet #skz angst #kfn: the exchange event #skz suggestive #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids jisung #skz scenarios #han jisung #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #stray kids angst #jisung angst

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seeminglydark · 11 months

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My favorite skater babe! Before she hired John to help her run the cafe, Mads didn’t get a lot of time to look for love or date, but he was always pretty insistent she should try taking care of herself too, and that he could manage. With some of the pressure off, she’s been able to explore her own sexuality and identity more. When I started Seemingly Dark, I was still new in the queer community and figuring out my characters, and I’d originally written her as pansexual for the first year of SD, but as time goes on, characters will often reveal themselves to you unexpectedly, and after some convo with my wonderful editor and bestie, and noticing I felt more comfortable writing her with other women, I realized this fun loving rocker girl is a lesbian with a capital L. The newest chapter of SD, Secrets, will be heavily focused on her and tell more of her story!

Anyway I LOVE how pretty and bright this one is! Feel free to use as a lockscreen bg, I Hope you’re enjoying this series so far 🌈

Oh and for the record, Maddie says trans women are women and so do I.

Maddie Parker is from my webcomic Seemingly Dark on Tapas and Webtoon

#original character #lesbian #skater girl #lesbian pride #pride month

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wisteriainslumber · 5 months

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leoidevil friendship headcanons

two posts so soon?? no wayyy everyone seems to love their dynamic in penned in ink (deserved, i love them) so i decided to give you some fun, general hcs about the mean girls of all

warnings: swearing? i think thats it. wow, go me

they share a steady HBIC rotation

they respect each other so much but it will never look like it (bc seven forbid they show love and compassion and care in clown school, right?)

insults in this group = love. the more unhinged, the more it means they care for each other

aka if you try to break them up bc they look like they're going to throw hands they'll flip the narrative as if you are the crazy one for thinking they're genuinely fighting

do you see why these three are always split up in events now?

leovil are constantly using honey, dear, and sweetie in their arguments (derogatory)

once, when particularly annoyed, idia called them mom and dad bc 1. they remind him of his parents and 2. he hoped it would be weird enough to change the topic but no, leovil are running with it

there's made up lore about how idia was adopted. the story changes every time. so far, idias been a double orphan, picked up at a dumpster, cloned, picked up from the lost and found, and at some point he was biologically related to that fire lizard from frozen 2

leona regularly gifts idia super expensive jewelry. he receives a bunch of them and believes idia would have something better to do with them than he can (idia uses them for cosplay and hands some off to ortho because he likes the way it shines)

and the gifts progressively get very specific to idias interests but the chances of the court giving the second prince a custom headset (conveniently aligned with idias interests) seems relatively low

vil vehemently refuses the charity but will not say no to exclusive afterglow savanna garments (she wants to feel special and leona isn't thaaat opposed to it)

whenever someone offhandedly mentions that they got their eyes on something, its a race to see who can get it first

and bc vil is a sentimental one, his room is FILLED with trinkets and photos of his outings

leovil is always caught up on idias current obsessions, with leona knowing the key plot points and vil only knowing the names and faces

idia would not stfu abt this con and leovil didn't have time to pretend like it was annoying bc they do NOT KNOW who to go as (presumably idia just wanted to talk or maybe get one of them to go to the con for him but the girls were not having that)

like these two binged Idia's 'show of the month' and were having so much trouble figuring out who his favourite characters were, but ultimately settled for the main character and her friends

idia LOVEDD the surprise even though he has like, no clue who tf they were cosplaying (turns out leovil remembered the title completely wrong)

leovil were hella committed to keeping up their character while idia was too busy running around like an excited puppy

vil always carried around a bunch of tampons for his classmates but has a seperate pouch for leona & idia (bc they have nice patterned packaging. that's it)

leona's homescreen is a photo of them wearing mouse-ear shades. they all look so cool (leona has not revealed the lockscreen to anyone)

vil always lends his products to his friends because besties share everything (he even has specific formulas he's custom made for them! vil's never ever EVER gonna give them away tho bc then he wont have an excuse for an impromptu skincare session LMAOO)

leona's the designated everything holder bc idias backpack is always filled with random junk and his posture is terrible and he's the only one who can apparently 'treat vil's purse with respect' (he complains about it though)

even if they weren't important, i feel like if they got group kidnapped, they'd bully the kidnapper so hard that they'd be let go unharmed and the kidnapper would be in tears

leona has ALLLL the tea and it takes a swipe from idia to verify the facts. with rumours, vil can pinpoint exactly who is being talked about, down the the dorm, year, and class number

idia sits in between the custody battle for epel and jack DAILY. but the silly thing is whenever idia chimes in with a perfectly reasonable idea (like say, flip a coin), leovil suddenly get along again just to say it's a dumb idea (its not)

idia and leona have sibling solidarity and bc vil is an only child they exercise their sibling rights just to tell vil complete lies (aka, anything vil does, like sneezing, will receive a comment like 'if you sneeze more than 4 times a day, it means you're awakening a ghost')

and they're committed to the bit. idia will absolutely forge research articles and leona will claim his fifth-cousin-twice-removed had mysteriously gone missing because of it

when vil's feeling down they do not gas the queen up (she already knows it, hun). they let vil raid their closets to pick out their outfits for a photoshoot

when vil's not in the mood for THAT then its a code red. leoide will dress themselves up so good that vil feels underdressed so now he HASSS to go on their impromptu outing. peer pressure wins again

the gossip sessions over shaved ice or any kind of dessert go CRAZY in this trio, like they're so loud bc the tea is outrageous and you want to be mad but at the same time, go on, i gotta hear more

idias ideal hangout is a self-care day. they'll all wear facemasks and idia will do everyone's nails and they all gossip

sometimes idia will come up with a theory, like that sam is from another world, and vil will say it's bogus but ends up feeding more evidence for the theory

once vil beat idia in a video game (that idia was a pro at, mind you) on the first try and idia declared their friendship over

vil and idia are video game buddies but not past the AMs bc vil has a bed time (leona's still salty about the cats & videogames comparison so he only watches)

vil and idia fight over custody of ortho all the time but leona just uses the distraction to get ortho to leak all the juicy secrets

other than that vil and ortho are doing evil potion making aka finding creative ways go sneak veggies in leoides food

the trio never have any real drama so they always end up 'fighting' each other over the stupidest shit. like the way they tie their shoes, the typo they just made, or how loud they breathe

whenever one of them is seriously down, it's always a bad-cop/good-cop situation bc getting too serious makes these emotionally stunted losers feel icky

they do talk about their feelings though, but it never turns into a pity party

idia LOOOVES being dramatic tho and will set the stage for his sob story only for it to be that the cashier didn't wish him a good day

vil will use idia's lingo for the shock factor and pretends it never happened after and leona will pretend like he didn't like that his time got wasted but will reassure him. and by reassure i mean he stands w idia in line and says 'have a good day' to the cashiers so they'll say 'you too'

and no idc what u say, idia will chat shit about everyones crushes but will do one of two things: A. be besties w them if his friends end up dating and B. have a crush on the BAREEE MINIMUM

okay i joke a lot but leoidevil all keep each other in check and strive to uplift & become the best version of themselves

its three different flavours of self-hatred all communicating with each other

and they will still preach self-love (leona bc he thinks they deserve better, idia bc he gave up but that doesnt mean his loved ones have to, and vil bc he believes you will never be at a satisfactory point in ur life if you dont make amends with yourself)

btw they have a very elaborate plan to go to therapy together and a back up plan if they happen to end up at the ward instead

friendship bracelets but its the admission wrist bands

all in all, the whole school is afraid of this power trio but they're just super weird together

12/10 leovil still have pictures of idia's phantom bride wedding day

if there's other groupings or ships you want me to do hcs for, send me an ask! i love exploring character dynamics smmm this will definitely be a new series of mine

#idk what a block limit is but i hit it and I CANT ADD MORE NOOOO #didn't even get to talk abt leona as much as i want but know that idia & vil look up to him sm #it doesnt look it but idevil absolutely follow leona like little duckies (they're unaware of this but leona finds it cute)#literally feel free to add ur own i LOVE hearing everyones hcs they're all canon to me #they all have potential for part 2's isnt that great #every time i try to think of a name for this series i think 'clown school club'#me and the boys pulling up to the night raven clown association #its so horrible i might keep it but im open to suggestions #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #vil shoenheit #idia shroud #leona kingscholar

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p5x-theories · 2 months

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It think it’s a normal horse but if it can be a unicorn it could be a donkey there’s a few fairytales and a few Bible stories mentioning donkeys what might be the most relevant Bible story is about a donkey seeing a threat to her master if not herself and rebelling against his commands eventually telling him what she saw in his own language and saves his life.

Maybe her specialties as navigator is finding hidden enemies and/or making communication with shadows easier.

Yeah, I think maybe you're right; the thing protruding from its head is sort of blocked in the normal AOA layout, but on the lockscreen it's clearer and more ear-shaped, so probably a horse after all. A unicorn feels like it'd make more sense with the magical fantasy vibe going on, but I guess either way they're a little odd to have with the underwater theme. Haha, maybe it's a kelpie?

All I know about her navigator skills in-game so far are that they seem to be heavily focused around shielding, but it'd be neat if she had other specialties (similar to PQ/PQ2's distinction of Navigator abilities) outside of strictly her Persona's spells, possibly like either or both of the ones you're suggesting here!

#askmarietheapprentice #theories #headcanons #puppet

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kaeda-the-wolf · 5 months

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Diego Jimenez x Lauren Wolffe (OFC)

Word Count; 1,750

Part 2: Burgers & Bail

In which Detective Lauren Wolffe and her partner, Marcus Morenci, are paid a visit by one of the best criminal defense lawyer's in New York.

Warnings: Language, brief mentions of domestic violence/child abuse/murder.

Author's note: This chapter is brought to you by my finally taking an actual vacation.

Any gifs used in any posts for this story do not belong to me.

Lauren is two cups of coffee and a quarter of the way through a massive stack of case files when a white paper bag is plopped down in front of her. Slightly startled, she glances up from the paragraph she's read at least twice already to see Marcus looking down at her with what he probably thinks is a charming smile.

"What's this, a peace offering," Lauren questions as she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't still irritated about earlier, especially after the way the rest of their previous conversation had gone.

"When you say you're talking from experience, I take it you mean your daughter? What's her name? Ella?"

"Ellie," Lauren corrected.

"Right. She's what, eight or nine?"

Lauren stayed silent, focusing on her driving as she switched lanes.

"That's her on your phone lockscreen, right? And in the picture on your desk?"

Again, Lauren doesn't reply. She has no intention of encouraging his attempts at small talk.

"She's a cute kid. Looks just like you, except her eyes. I take it she took after her dad, there. Speaking of which, where is-"

Lauren had stomped on the brakes, probably a little more forcefully than necessary, as someone had cut them off. Marcus had jolted forward with a curse, nearly smacking into the dashboard.

"What the fuck, 'Ren?"

Lauren gritted her teeth at the shortening of her name. She'd always hated it when people called her that.

"Sorry," she muttered halfheartedly.

"You'd think with as many people that live here, at least some of them would know how to drive."

Lauren had calmly agreed, and the subject had effectively changed after that, much to her relief. Marcus meant well, but Lauren had already been fighting back all her constant fears and worries about her daughter after the events of this morning, and wasn't about to go digging all of those up at the behest of someone who just couldn't leave well enough alone, even if he was her partner.

In fact, she was doing her best to not think about those things. Or the case.

That was why she'd stayed buried nose deep in work since they'd returned to the precinct, her only consolation being that the person responsible for the boy's -Antonio Reyes- murder was in a holding cell downstairs.

Out of sight, mostly out of mind.

"No," Marcus huffs. "It's lunch. You know, actual food that's not a bag of chips and a stale candy bar from the vending machine downstairs?"

"Careful, Marcus," Lauren chides lightheartedly with a small smile as she tears into the bag. "Keep talking like that and someone might think you actually like me."

"I do actually like you," Marcus quips sharply, only for a sheepish look to cross his face the moment he realizes he was a bit too eager to reply. Lauren arches a brow, but Marcus is sputtering on before she can even think of a response.

"I mean, I do most of the time. Still think you've got a stick up your ass."

"Right," Lauren chuckles, choosing to overlook his response as she tears into the bag in front of her. It's from her favorite restaurant a couple of blocks away and she's actually pretty damn hungry (chips and candy only go so far) so she pays little mind to what Marcus had gotten her as she pulls out the food.

"Double bacon cheeseburger with everything but the pickles and onions and cheesy tater tots, right?"

Lauren's hands freeze in the middle of pulling a box out of the bag, a chill crawling down her spine. As much as she loved the old burger joint, Lauren rarely spared the money to eat there, preferring the cheapest option available for lunch (which, more often than not, usually meant eating nothing) in order to pinch a few extra pennies for her daughter's sake. She and Marcus had gotten burgers once, maybe twice, since they had started working together…

So how did he have her order down perfectly?

"Uhm, yeah," Lauren answers, unease thick in her voice as she locks eyes with Marcus, jarring her into moving again. "Thank you."

The smile she gives is more of a grimace than anything, and obviously forced as Lauren pops open the box of tater tots, but Marcus simply smiles at her, looking pleased with himself.

And somehow, that's even more unsettling.

When he steps away from her desk to go back to his own, she lets out a breath. She gets about half of the burger down, unable to keep from side-eying Marcus as she eats. The food is delicious -as always- but her appetite was nonexistent, her stomach roiling.

How the fuck did he know my order?

She tries to put the thought out of her mind. Really, she does, but it's a futile effort as the thought echoes through her mind again and again. Maybe he'd asked one of the other detectives -maybe Cartright, or Howell- but then she doubted that they paid enough attention to know. Cartwright was nice enough, but Howell didn't care for her, and the feeling was mutual.

"Is the food good," Marcus asks, meeting her gaze as Lauren glances at him over the top of her computer monitor. He'd opted for the exact same burger, she noticed, but had swapped out the tater tots for the Cajun steak fries.

"It's great," she replies absentmindedly, shutting the nearly full box of cheesy tater tots. "I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," is his emphatic answer, a brilliant smile flashing across his features. Lauren was sure that smile was enough to woo just about any woman at the bar, but it reminded her more of something more predatory, something that looked welcoming on the surface, but would rip you to shreds if you got too close.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he continues as Lauren tries to discreetly drop what remains of her food in the trash. He pays her absolutely no mind, eyes focused on his computer screen in front of him.

She doubts he's looking at anything work related.

"We'll have to eat out more often. There's a new Italian place a few street over-"

Marcus' words abruptly, uncharacteristically go silent, which commands her attention far more than whatever he'd been saying. Lauren looks up, having returned to her work, and the moment she does, her heart takes a nose dive into her stomach. Standing just inside the main door of the precincts bullpen, looking regal as ever in a tan, three piece suit that she has no doubt costs more than her rent two times over, is Brian Nguyen, one of the most renowned defense attorney's in New York. Next to him stands Lieutenant Albrecht, who is so red in the face it looks like he might stroke out.

Brian cuts a glance at Lauren, giving her a subtle, knowing smirk as he speaks.

"Detective Wolffe." His dark eyes pierce right through her. It's not a look of triumph, it's a warning, a reminder. "It's been quite a while."

No, it hasn't, Lauren's mind supplies in answer. The thought is slightly bitter, and overly guilty.

She was all too familiar with Brian Nguyen, or rather, the kind of clientele he represented; drug dealers, mob guys, enforcers, all the other kinds of guys who probably deserved to be under the prisons rather than in them.

If he was here, it was an omen for a bad day.

"Indeed it has," Lauren replies coolly. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"He's here for Carlos Muñoz," Lieutenant Albrecht responds, his face bitter. Lauren grits her teeth, apprehensiveness settling poorly in her stomach.

She probably shouldn't have eaten that burger.

"Just to talk, I'm assuming? He started asking for you the moment we cuffed him."

"I'm afraid not, Detective Morenci."

Sure you are, Lauren says to herself, rage boiling in her veins. She knows all too well what Brian Nguyen is here for, if he's not here to talk to his client.

"He's made bail?" Marcus questions, and Lauren wants to sock him for not reading the giant pink elephant in the room. She settles for scratching her pen deep into a stack of blue sticky notes on her desk. Ellie had picked them out; blue was her favorite color.

"Yes," Albrecht grits out, and Lauren knows he’s feeling the same frustration as her. "They're already working through the release process."

Lauren shakes her head, glancing at the picture of Ellie on her desk. It was an older photo from a birthday two years prior; Ellie is grinning, all dimples and missing baby teeth, holding up a new stuffed animal frog that Lauren had gotten her, brown eyes bright and her hair in lopsided, blonde pigtails. It was a picture similar to one that Lauren had seen in the Reyes home of the little boy -Antonio- that Muñoz had murdered.

Antonio Reyes would never smile like that again, and the bastard responsible for it was going to walk free.

Just like far too many others.

This was another aspect of the job that Lauren hated, one that she would never get used to. And it was something happening more and more often.

Lauren sits at her desk, seething, and watches as Nguyen signs the necessary paperwork for the bail. The moment he bids them all goodbye, at least having the small sliver or decency to not look smug as he does so, Lauren feels the straw break the camel's back.

"This is such bullshit," she spits, haphazardly shuffling case files back into their folders. She pauses when she spots an extra copy of the photo of the lifeless, beaten body of the boy.

"I can't say I'm surprised," Marcus remarks, ignoring the glare Lauren flashes his way as he kicks back in his chair, hands behind his head. "But how does a guy like that make bail that high?"

"He doesn't," Lauren hisses, throwing on her jacket. Tucking the crime scene photo into the inner pocket, she grabs her keys and marches towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Lieutenant Albrecht questions, a hint of worry showing through his otherwise neutral expression.

"For a walk," Lauren answers, softer than she would if anyone else were to ask. They would probably be having a conversation soon about how she was doing.

Her lieutenant simply nods, knowing better than to try and stop her.

If he knew where she was headed, he would.

@1zashreena1

#Lauren is MAD #Finally fucking wrote something #Only had to go on a hunting trip in Northern Michigan #God it was fun though #Marcus seems (hopefully) a little sketchy for a reason #Lauren isn't the friendliest for lots of reasons #No Diego in this chapter #But he will make an appearance soon!#Diego Jimenez #maurice compte

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liliansun · 9 months

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Relationship investigator anon here! 😃 allow me to dive into (you) why JENO is terrible for sal. I know what you're thinking - i'm CRAZY. And i am 😭 i'm reading too much into this. I genuinely like their little interactions so far but DAMN boy. Okay so what i glean from these girls' personalities, first of all, is that sal is honestly quite sweet and takes care of the others. So do the others but idk i think you showed that side of sal more?? Like neowa and mal are the savage little devils and we love them for that (sad girl hours for neowa and mal??? GOD PLEASE DONT LET HEM BE SAD) but like sal is sweet and i feel like her having him as a lockscreen is proof that she is falling too fast??,, and she's gonna get hurt bc jeno is quiet and silent and maybe he just don't know what he's feeling until she's sad :((

MAL on the other hand. Like that girl is gonna get so soft for jaemin and then it'll be a push and pull until she gives in and lets him in. Love how he flirts with her tbh and her reactions are everything?? I can't waot fkr their storyy, and I know jaemin will treat her well.

Joy and mark,, do i have tk say anymore?? Like they're already a thing and it's gonna be super sad seeing joy be upset and lonely without her man around BUT THEN SHE and MARK find a way thrpugh it bc mark is a man who solves issues and he wouldn't want his girl to be suffering alone ykwim

And then neowa and renjun. Theirs is gonna be such a finale?? You got renjun who's in love with yn and then neowa who's been pining fkr him for a while and they're both going to hurt esp when he has to face yns rejection to get over it and realize that neowa was right there for him?? Short king stand UP

And haechan and yn , tbh atp i think yn just needs tk have a talk w him and she'll realize she likea him and he does too and that it was all bc he was afraid of letting her know about the personality his frienda knew about. Renjun might be the little bastard causing little uncertainties i think but the love is there.

Jeno though 🤨 he's a dark horse and i KNOW he's gonna hurt sal 😤

I am so psyched for your new stories?? Like actually excites bouncing off my seat and the walls and you're def gonna deliver as always FR i LOVE YOU (im so sorry for the long ass post wtf is wrong with me)

baby. lemme start off with this was so long and i was at work like 😧 well i still am at work but anyways😭

okay i get where you’re coming from w jeno BUT PLEASE TRUST HIM. they’re all gonna get hurt, both parties and it’s gonna suck and you (and i) might cry but it’s gonna be worth it in the end :( and i think i said it in another ask or something but jeno is gonna show how he feels more in jaemin’s story bc they’re like this 🤞(i spent too long looking for his emoji HELP)

omg jaemin’s story i’m too excited to write like y’all thought i was excited to write hyucks but DEAR LORD AM I READY FOR YALL TO SEE HOW THEY PLAY OUT.

joy and mark are already so cute but i just wanna be the first to say they gonna be going THROUGH IT. like y’all thought y/n and hyuck were going through it..just wait 😁😭

AND JUN AND NEOWA,, there is a reason theirs is last and you’ll know the more we progress through the others stories bc like rn we’re (me) hinting at it but they are gonna be so lowkey about it until BAM their story comes to light and it’ll all be like OOO AHH GASP

hyuck and y/n,, i can’t say anything bc it’s still wip rn 👀 but as these chapters i’m writing rn,, it’ll get better for them. y’all just don’t know what i know and it’s kipling me bc i’m like on ch 29? about to write 30? and i think y’all are on 25 😭

and jeno will or will not hurt sal (unintentionally) but it’s gonna be vice versa and i’m already saying too much y’all got me talking about things i’m NOT SUPPOSED TO BE TALKINF ABOJT

AND IM EXCITED FOR YOU TO READ THEM,, you and the other anons and everyone just make my heart so full y’all don’t even know and i love y’all’s feedback and seeing how y’all react it just brings me happiness AND I LOVEYOU 😁😚🫶🤭

#anonymous : answered #etmy — smau ✨#lilac’s moots 🥳

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pluviacuratio-a · 10 months

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GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

what’s your phone wallpaper: My son with his puppy plushie is my wallpaper, my son and my husband are my lockscreen

last song you listened to: Sugar, Sugar - The Archies (I'm in my shippy playlist rn and I think this song is precious shh)

currently reading: I'm working my way through a big list of webtoons, but as far as a book I'm listening to the audiobook for A Kingdom of Blood and Betrayal by Holly Renee (Warning, it's spicy if you're not interested in that)

last movie: Guh... Prooobably the Paw Patrol movie, ngl.

what are you wearing right now?: A pink and white dress, black leggings, and a black cardigan (I'm at work and inside the library is cold oop-)

piercings / tattoos?: None right now, but I'd like at least a tattoo and maybe a piercing.

glasses? contacts?: Glasses

last thing you ate: French fries, I do believe

current obsession: OOO right now, I'm really obsessed with Coral Island.

do you have a crush right now?: Other than my husband? Hm.. Quite possibly Fat Gum from My Hero, but there's a lot of characters I enjoy a good bit.

favorite fictional characters: Taishiro Toyomitsu (BNHA), Shouta Aizawa (BNHA), Hizashi Yamada (BNHA), Toshinori Yagi (BNHA) there's so many more BNHA characters I adore but I'll stop there for the sake of this list.

From other media: Asmodeus (Obey Me!), really all of the demon brothers but Asmo was the first one to catch my attention, all the angels from OM! as well, uhh. I really like Akane from My Love Story with Yamada at Lvl999, Chise Hatori (Ancient Magus Bride), Elias (Ancient Magus Bride), there are so many more...

tagged by: @tacitusauxilium (Thank you, lovely!)

tagging: take it from me!

#♣️ out of rain (ooc)#♫ two can play these games (dash games)

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missjaceofalltrades · 2 years

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AAAAAHHHHH NACHI'S BOOK WAS SO GOOD 😻😻😻😻🧡🧡🧡🧡

[⚠️Spoilers ahead!]

HELP THEY'RE SO CUTE 😭😻🧡 (I am gushing over my new lockscreen now)

I don't wanna give out too much cuz I want people to read it for themselves to enjoy his book more, and I plan on giving a full review to all the books anyways, once they're all out, but let me just say...

I FREAKING LOVE all the cameos of the other ayakashi boys in it, especially Teach's boys. It was like they were spies pulling off a heist! 😍 or more accurately they went undercover to stop a gambling den 😆

And I LOVE that one part with Kuya (who am I kidding, I love Kuya whenever he appears XD) when he was left alone with Futaba 💙

ALSO THE BACKSTORY & OWNER REVEAL OMG

It added just the right amount of drama/conflict to the story

This book is my favorite continuation of the Night Faction storyline so far! Especially how it dealt with General Oyama and the Youjin Project. (Tatsu was so cool when he faced his father during the negotiation 😍) I preferred it more over the other ways they dealt with it in the other Night faction books. But I've yet to see Yakumo's and Kyo's even if he isn't technically considered Night faction but is mostly associated with them, cuz he is Tatsu's bro after all.

The only rant I have is...

THERE WAS NO KISS 😭 WHY

Even just a peck on the cheek would be fine 🥺

I'M DEPRIVED OF ROMANTIC CONTENT WITH NACHI

THEIR DYNAMIC IS SO CUTE AND GIVES ME DIABETES, WHY COULDN'T THEY JUST SHOW US A LITTLE MORE ROMANCE 🥺😭

I don't know maybe that's just me 😆 or maybe they're going for a slow-burn which is nice but it can be hard to wait sometimes (;ŏ⩊ŏ)

Anyways, that's all I wanted to say for now. Sorry if it was too long. I just had to fangirl about it 😆

Go give Nachi's book a read if you haven't yet! It was so worth the wait!

(=´ ꒳ `=)♡

#NACHI MY BELOVED 😻🧡#ayakashi koi meguri #ayakashi romance reborn #ayakoi #ayakashi rr #voltage inc.#arr nachi #ayakoi nachi #ayakashi nachi

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trashlord-007 · 2 years

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I'm glad you have a sense of humor or at least realized that the killed a man question was supposed to be funny.

Lemme preface this by saying some of your questions about me I'm happy to answer, but others I'd like to leave until after the reveal if you'd still like them then. Gotta try and make it hard to identify me if you let curiosity get the better you.

Jongdae is a sweet man and deserves the world, I'm so happy for him getting the family he's wanted. Hopefully, we'll get a new album from him eventually. Did you have a favourite of his songs? Or a favourite bit of his from an exo song?

I do game a bit, although I've never played mass effect or far cry, I stick with the final fantasy and legend of Zelda franchises. Though assassin creed did catch my eye during the ff15 crossover event and I briefly contemplated playing it. I get the finding some semblance of peace actually...final fantasy 15 has a fishing option too though I'm more likely to pop that in and follow the storyline as I wander the world rather than fish. Same goes for Zelda really, I'm more of a start the game over and revisit the world and actions through the story line sort of person.

Problems are a valid creation lol. But gif making? That's a labour of love as far as I'm concerned, I've seen what goes into making gifs and gif makers have all of my respect for the work they do. Same goes for fic writers, fanartists, etc theres so much that goes into producing fan content and its amazing what people do for the things they enjoy.

What sort of things do you write? I'm afraid I haven't familiarized myself with your work. Do you have a favourite genre to write for? What about reading while we're talking about it?

Speaking of reading I squealed so loudly when I read the words gunslinger!!! That is one of my most favorite series ever in the history of ever. Please tell me you've read all of them. Lie if you must lol. Really though, "The man in black fled west across the desert and the gunslinger followed" is an epic opening line and it gives me chills even just typing it out. And don't get me started on when Jake told Roland "Go then, there are other worlds than these." And then purposefully fell. One act that sent Roland on his path to further redemption. The whole series is a masterpiece truly.

You said horror and scifi....I'm not much for horror, but some sci-fi I can do. I generally stick with fantasy and comedy and dramas tbh when I consume media. But there are a few notable exceptions namely the three star franchises...Stargate, Star Trek, and Star Wars. Also Doctor Who...not that my brain equates the doctor with sci-fi lol. Though some are more familiar to me than others. What sort of sci-fi are you into?

Uh most watched YouTube? Well my go to channels are nate the hoof guy and north of the border. I tend to stick them on as background noise since they're easy to follow along with without having to actually pay attention. I do listen to music sometimes when I create though when i do its whatever helps me concentrate best at that moment. Sometimes it's something wordless so I can just immerse myself in whatever I'm working on, or it's a certain song on repeat that I can fade into if that makes sense.

Best part of fandom is its people tbh. As for what I like to create....edits, moodboards, fic, eventually I'd like to try my hand at videos and sound mixing there's a few mash-ups on YouTube that are so cool. I also like to create food, and I love to fingerpaint. I absolutely suck at it but it's fun and messy and a great way to relax, I highly recommend it!

Speaking of creating, I'm not sure what I'll have the time for gift creation wise so how about you give me a few suggestions for themes for the edits or the moodboards, ( I can also do icons/headers/lockscreens) and maybe what you'd be looking for in a fic? Au?, type(angst,fluff,slice of life etc)? member?, that sort of thing.

Now for a a few new questions.... do you have any blog recommendations on here? People you enjoy interacting with or content creators whose work you enjoy. How about exo fanarts or artists? Do you enjoy those? Do you have any favorites?

I like to think I have a sense of humour!

hehe, I can respect that. I promise I won't search for you prematurely but feel free to ignore any/all questions you don't wish to answer!

Jongdae does indeed deserve the world! he's so lucky, too, to be blessed with not just one child but two! My favourite song of his is definitely Good Night! So, so beautiful T_T and definitely one of my favourite songs of all time.

oh heck yeah!! FF and LOZ! I have a FF on my shelf to play but haven't gotten around to it (I have many brand new games on my shelf that still need to be unwrapped, I'm so behind >.<). I don't have a Switch so I haven't played BotW but it sure does look fantastic. I think my last LOZ game was... A Link to the Past on GBA... no, nevermind, I just checked and I had Phantom Hourglass too. But my favourite was Wind Waker on GameCube!!

I'm hoping they remaster the first AC! To me, in my personal opinion, not confirmed (I'm just hoping!!) they kinda hinted that maybe they would?? at Ubisoft Connect this year! so I'm really hoping!! because I never actually finished it T_T I got pretty much to the end, too. Le sigh. I'm so close! But I lost my original save files on one of my earlier consoles >.<

I'm hesitant to replay older games because everyone is doing remasters or remakes these days! I bought the DLC for the Mass Effect games a few months before the remaster was announced with all the DLC included lmfao

I started playing FC6 again the other night (never finished it, oops) and my first achievement of the night was for catching fish so I think it's safe to say I'm obsessed with that mechanic haaaa.

I get that! I like to replay games for the story, too. Sometimes I even lower the difficulty if I'm in a mood to experience the story rather than the gameplay. That way I can finish it quicker! And I won't do 100% completion runs (like checking every planet in ME).

Playing through your favourite games is self-care! -- me, who is spending all my time gaming lately instead of being on here and responding to you in a timely manner (sorry!!).

It really is! I always knew it was hard to do but my God, I didn't realise the true extent of it. GIF creators are amazing. And you're so write!! Anyone making fan content is perfect, talented, and lovely. So wonderful, truly.

That's fine and also please DO NOT feel like you have to! You needn't read any of my fics!

I mainly write... well, I was going to say smut and yandere but my fluff masterlist is the longest so I definitely sneak those in quite often. My favourite genres to write for are the same as the ones I read! I know some people don't like to mix business with pleasure, but I love writing horror and sci-fi! Though I will admit I haven't written space-based sci-fi yet. And if a book or fic is sci-fi or horror, I will try it out. If it's a sci-fi horror or just based in space?? I WILL read it there and then!

OH HELL YES!! Another Dark Tower fan!! Dude, it's freaking PERFECT! You even quoted my favourite line T_T While it does have one of the best opening lines in the history of ever, Jake's "Go then, there are other worlds than these" really just punches me in the gut every time I think about it!! King really outdid himself with that series, my God. The Gunslinger will probably always be my favourite but I'm enjoying every book so far!

But, ahem, I'm still on the fourth book! I miss Blaine the Train T_T he was so much fun! I'm currently finishing Paolini's To Sleep In A Sea of Stars and then I will be go back to listening to Wizard and Glass!

Yes, I love me so good horror! I used to be, hmm, opposed to horror films because every year my birthday was overshadowed with Halloween (lol, don't judge me, I'm opening up here), but now I love them (and Halloween) so much!! And sci-fi... to vaguely quote Markiplier, "I'd sign up on a mission to space even if I knew 100% I would die".

I also don't really think of Doctor Who as sci-fi even though it is! haha, funny. I love the original 6 Star Wars films! I named my kitty cat after Anakin! I haven't watched the new ones yet tho. And, haha, I watched the original Star Trek series after watching the new films. So great, so classic!! I named a kitty cat after Cumberbatch's Khan, too. I never watched much Stargate aside from the original film.

I enjoy any sci-fi that is based in space! Interstellar is my favourite film right now~ and it used to be Avatar which is getting its second film soon!! I told myself I don't even like Avatar that much anymore and then watched the trailer and BOOM obsessed once more haha!

I don't know Nate the Hoof Guy or North of the Border. What type of content do they make? If I had to pick individual channels I like then I would go with Slogo and Markiplier (gaming) and Nick Crowley and Watcher (horror/paranormal investigations/stories etc).

What kind of music do you listen to when you create? Do you have any specific songs/playlists rn? and yes, that makes perfect sense! I like to repeat / loop music when I write, too.

Wow! You're a jack of all trades! that's so cool T_T edits and moodboards require such skill and talent and an eye for design. I also want to try out audio mixing. I make youtube videos occasionally so it would be fun to learn! You cook?? omg, you really are so !!! you know??? I can't cook, like, at all. Finger painting...? I think I'd be too OCD to do it T_T I freak out a little when my hands get dirty haha. I've been better about it lately but I had an episode the other day--- why am I talking about this? lol, I always ramble T_T

No worries at all~ don't stress yourself out over the gift. It's not a big deal! For edits and moodboards, my go-to request is always Jongdae and thunderstorms! For fics... I don't read for Jongdae but if it's platonic then I would! or a Baekhyun fic~ Anything genre wise except angst and MCD.

Honestly, anything you come up with will be perfect! <3

Blog recommendations... I'm assuming EXO-Ls?

@merinaart does the most amazing artwork ever! my favourite artist on the site tbh! @mel-loves-all is one of the sweetest people ever and she used to host this event! @myeoning-call makes some really amazing content, too! and she was my first giftee <3 and @your-sophie18 is my new friend, oml, love her + she tags me in cool things about EXO <3 such a real one. Then I can't forget my lovely @achenlove who made me the cutest little Chen drawing last year T_T I still cherish it!

oh,.. I kinda included the CCs I like to interact with ^ up there. I don't really interact with people that aren't moots very often, and when I do it's just to reblog and leave feedback on fics. I'm not very outgoing like that! hmm... how about you tell me some CCs you like and I'll check them out? or blog recs in general!

Hope you're well and sorry again for the delay! sometimes I just... eh, it doesn't matter. Always have some kind of excuse.

Sending you love and wishing you the best! <3

#long post #exo secret santa #such a sweetheart #much love to you!

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