#it doesn’t seem like they believe me when i say no one in my field is hiring. and then i get hit with ‘well you chose to stay in fairbanks’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr was attacked by a cross-site scripting worm deployed by the Internet troll group GNAA on Dec 3, 2012.

#it doesn’t seem like they believe me when i say no one in my field is hiring. and then i get hit with ‘well you chose to stay in fairbanks’

astraystayyh · 10 days

Text

Breathe

hyunjin x photographer!reader. friends to lovers with so so much tension and pining. hyunjin is too pretty (yet again). suggestive in the end and reader is wearing a dress. inspired by Bathtub hyunjin.

thank you hyunjin yet again for being my eternal muse and inspiring this brainrot. wrote this while listening to All mine by plaza so.. please enjoy <333 feedback is highly appreciated 🫶🏻

Is it possible to drown in the depths of your emotions, until breathing becomes a forgotten process, one that eludes each one of your senses?

Yes, you believe, if standing before a vision of ethereal beauty, as you are now, all encapsulated within Hwang Hyunjin’s being.

The camera slightly shakes in your grasp as you linger by the threshold of the bathroom, eyeing Hyunjin’s silhouette submerged in the waters. He’s sitting inside the bathtub, fingers running through his raven locks, awaiting your return.

He doesn’t seem to notice your presence, nor do you wish him to. Instead, you remain silent by the door, allowing yourself a few seconds to savor the intoxicating aura he exudes.

See, he isn’t doing anything particular, nor is he adorned in anything enticing— a simple white shirt and matching linen pants. And yet, his presence fills the air, compelling oxygen particles to flee from your being, leaving you transfixed, unable to do anything but gaze at him.

“I can feel you staring,” he remarks casually, his eyes still drawn before him as he leans back, tapping the edge of the tub with his ring-clad fingers.

Your heart pulses against your ribs, a dance that the organ knows intimately by now, one that Hyunjin alone can orchestrate. It isn’t the first time he’s had this effect on you, it is a familiar territory you first breached when Minho introduced you to him.

Hyunjin is a friend, but his hands find your waist more times than deemed platonic, and you like his touch much more than you’d like to admit.

“I'm assessing my subject, you know?” A faint grin dances upon your lips as you approach the bathtub. Hyunjin is doing you a favor— you just booked your first photography gig, and your client only has one condition: to shoot it in a bathtub. You wanted to translate your vision to life beforehand, and Hyunjin volunteered to help you.

“And how do I look?” he inquires, his smile a sugary dream that coaxes forth his left dimple. You place your camera gently on the countertop, bending down to inspect him up close.

His eyelids glisten with the golden glitter you delicately applied earlier. His skin is dewy, glistening underneath the warm lightning, and his lips drip crimson, courtesy of the cherry chapstick you carefully tapped into place.

There is always a myriad of visions that come to your mind when you think of Hyunjin— a blazing fire where each flame surges higher towards the heavens, a burning dance of passion and confidence; or a delicate red rose standing resilient in an empty field, vulnerable yet unwavering in its strength.

And now, you see a siren, beckoning mortals with a voice of beauty, ensnaring them with its hypnotic allure, much like he captivates you in this moment.

“You look nice,” you settle on saying, and he playfully pouts, his thumb grazing against your wrist lightly, akin to the delicate flutter of a butterfly's wing. “That's it? You never compliment me properly.”

“Someone’s gotta keep your ego in check,” you shrug, grabbing a dozen of roses and scattering them all around his body. You nod, satisfied with the outcome, finally retrieving your camera.

“Let's start with a simple shot, look at the camera, as you would when seducing someone.”

Instead of looking at the lens, Hyunjin's gaze finds yours first. With a deliberate slowness, his eyes trace the contours of your form, sending delicious shivers down your spine. His pupils dilate, his gaze darkens, before he reluctantly tears his eyes away, finally shifting his focus to the camera.

it takes you a few beats longer to find your voice once again.

“Hold still, one… two… three,” you murmur, capturing a few shots, pausing for a few seconds to admire the warmth of the light bouncing off his honeyed skin. “Perfect.”

“Me or the picture?” he teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you roll yours in response.

“The photographer.”

“You’re right, you're perfect,” he replies simply, and you're momentarily taken aback, your eyes widening slightly. He notices, a small smile playing on his lips as you grab his hand to adjust his pose.

“You aren't allowed to speak anymore,” you declare, guiding his index finger to his lips while his head rests on his other curled fist. He grins, before his expression morphs into a smoldering gaze, one that blankets your skin in hues of red from its sheer intensity.

“Look at me this time,” you instruct, and he nods obediently, directing his gaze towards you. Though your eyes remain fixed on the lens, you can sense the intensity of his gaze piercing through you—suddenly, the white dress you're wearing feels too sheer to contain the flames ignited by his stare.

“Mm,” you hum in approval as you look at the result. A sweet realization washes over you as you notice the subtle shift in his gaze— does he know his eyes unconsciously soften when they land on you?

With each click of the camera, your nerves dissipate, replaced by a growing confidence as each shot turns out exquisitely. They look worthy of gracing billboards worldwide, a privilege of working with a model as beautiful as him, one who portrays emotions as if they were crafted solely for him to feel.

“Good, let's try an overhead shot now,” you instruct, slinging the camera strap around your neck before climbing into the bathtub, legs on either side of his body. You’re hovering over him as he gazes up at you, his fluttering eyelashes echoing the erratic beat of your heart.

Your eyes briefly trace the contours of his now-translucent white shirt, a veil that delicately clings to his form, accentuating the sculpted lines of his physique—the arc of his v-line melding seamlessly into the fabric of his trousers. He possesses the body of a masterful dancer, a muse Michelangelo himself would have revered.

“Take off your shirt,” you suddenly request, and though your words are met with a quirked eyebrow, he obliges effortlessly. With a fluid motion, he peels the garment from his frame, sending it sailing across the bathroom's expanse.

“Good?” he questions but you remain silent because words have suddenly become beyond your grasp. Your client's request for a portrait suddenly feels inadequate and you almost itch to cancel it, because you know it won't exude the same beauty as Hyunjin’s. For each fiber of his being flusters you, makes you hyper aware of your every pulse point and how they all come together to chant Hyunjin’s name.

“Look up at me as you lean back,” you finally say, positioning the camera directly above his head. With each click, your heartbeat speeds up even more at the sight— collarbones and arms bathed in the play of light and shadow, his long, wet hair cascading over broad shoulders, and worse of all, a faint smirk that graces his placid face, as if he's aware of how breathtaking he looks in this moment.

“Should I do this?” he asks, picking up a rose and brushing its dewy petals against his lips. You swallow hard, nodding meekly before swiftly capturing a few more frames.

Emotions twist you into a peculiar being, yearning for your very soul to liquefy, transforming into the water droplets adorning the rose's petals, longing to caress Hyunjin’s lips too.

Hyunjin suddenly straightens his posture, hands coming to rest gently on your calves, fingers dancing along the hems of your dress with a delicate touch.

“How’d I do? Do I look good for you?” he asks and your knees weaken beneath you, his words rendering you a merciless leaf, swayed by the fiery winds he commands, with his words, with his touch, with his eyes, all solely on you.

“For me?” you echo, and he nods, his hand moving languidly up and down your leg, pausing delicately at your knee.

“Mm. You're the only one I want to impress.”

Your response escapes your being breathlessly. “And why is that?”

“Didn't you ask me not to speak?” he grins, running a hand through his hair. Swiftly, you place your camera on the counter before kneeling down, your thighs now brushing against his own.

“Speak,” you command, and in an instant, he seizes your waist, drawing your body close until you're straddling him, legs enveloping his middle.

“Say it again,” he whispers, and you thread your fingers through the strands of his hair, gently tugging at the edges until his head tilts back, exposing the expanse of his neck.

“I said…” you trail off, leaning in until your nose grazes the warmth of his skin.

Being this close to Hyunjin isn't unfamiliar to you; your interactions have always teetered on the brink of almost-kisses, your bodies drawn together like magnets, two halves of an orange yearning to reunite.

Yet, this moment feels different, much more fateful, as if the universe has granted you one final opportunity—to finally ignite in passion or perish into ash.

“Tell me. I want to know,” you urge, your voice a whisper against his skin, laden with unspoken desires.

“Because... I like you a lot. So much that you're the only one I think of all day. And I want you to like me too. I feel like I need it to breathe.”

His response catches you off guard with its vulnerability, the intimacy it drapes on this moment. The water envelops your intertwined bodies as your hands find solace atop his chest, his rapid heartbeat seeping into your palm.

“I always forget how to breathe around you,” you confess, a sheepish smile gracing your lips. The grin that blooms on his face is radiant, casting a glow on the room that cannot be replicated by artificial lighting.

“If you forget how to breathe, I'll give you all my oxygen,” he promises, his thumb tracing gently across your cheekbones. You see the sun in his smile, feel its warmth in his words that burn you. “I think it always belonged to you anyway,” he murmurs, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. “I think... I wanna give you back what's yours. Would you let me, pretty?” he asks, his voice a tender plea.

And amidst all the planets you know and the countless universes that may exist, you cannot fathom a single one where your answer would be anything but yes.

“Please,” you whisper, and his lips crash against yours in a fervent dance.

Your lips part before swiftly meeting again, and you close your eyes, surrendering to a world where all your senses converge to breathe Hyunjin in—your hands exploring the contours of his chest, your mouth savoring the sweetness of his lips infused with your cherry chapstick, your nose inhaling his scent, a delicate blend of vanilla and tobacco pulling you into a dizzying dance, your ears catching the gentle rhythm of his breaths and the faint thud of his heartbeat, all resonating within you.

And you don't need your eyes to see Hyunjin; he's indelibly etched behind your eyelids from all the time you've spent admiring him before.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he draws back, “I should have kissed you much sooner.”

“Mm?” you grin, intertwining your hands behind his neck, “Was it that good?”

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

“Then show me,” you grin, a playful glint in your eyes.

His gaze sparkles with mischief, his lips curling into a self-assured smirk, his hands finding your waist once more. Breathing is not necessary if it gives you Hyunjin in the end.

“Oh, I will.”

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #hyunjin fluff #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fanfic #(also just realized last time i posted was exactly one month ago for hyunjin’s birthday KADJJD this was fated.)

1K notes · View notes

ghostaholics · 8 months

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley fluff #simon riley fic #cod x reader #cod fic #call of duty fic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw x reader #cod mw fanfiction #cod mw 2

6K notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 6 months

Note

Saw your post asking for Zach Maclaren request so here I am!

What about reader getting run over by the car instead of Zach and she looses her memory kinda like the movie but reversed? She thinks Zach is her bf cause she has a bf named Zach but he’s an asshole.

The Other Zach

Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Getting Hit By A Car

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist

Yet another argument with her boyfriend. Yet another time she is walking home upset. Even worse, it’s three in the afternoon so everyone on the street can watch her sad walk home. She feels like everyone around her is staring, judging her for staying with such a dick. As she walks across the parking lot with her head in the clouds, a soccer ball comes rolling toward her. Y/N’s eyes dart up to see Zach MacLaren walking over to her with a big smile, pointing down at the ball to ask her to send it over. She bends down to pick it up, but as she starts to straighten out, a sudden force from behind her sends her head smashing to the pavement.

Zach watches the whole thing happen before his very eyes. He screams at his sister’s soccer team to stay there and runs to make sure the driver doesn’t try to keep reversing over Y/N. Everyone knew her. She works at the cafe on campus and is known to brighten everyone’s day. Once the driver knows he hit someone and is on the phone with the dispatcher, Zach goes to check on Y/N. She is out cold and this causes him to panic. He checks for a pulse. Relief floods him when he finds one and it is only a matter of her waking up. Her eyes flutter open and her vision is blurry. There is a face over her that she can’t make out. “My name is Zach,” she overhears the unidentifiable face. Her boyfriend. He must have gone after her to apologize. She starts to see more clearly and she wraps her arms around his neck. Her lips try to find him, but he pulls away. “Hey, take it easy. You got hit pretty hard in the noggin,” he advises, looking up at the sound of the ambulance.

——

The paramedics are about to take Y/N away, but she stops them from taking her. She looks at Zack, “Aren’t you going to come with me?.” He looks at her and his heart is pulling him to enter the vehicle, but he doesn’t feel it is right. He has no relation to her in any way. The paramedic counsels it might be better if he comes to help keep her calm and now, he feels he has no choice. “Of course, I just need to make sure an adult can stay with my soccer team. I’ll be right back,” he informs. He heads over to the field’s sidelines, talking to one of the waiting moms about what happened. He is reassured that she will make sure all the kids get home safely, so he heads back to the ambulance.

After the doctor does his assessment, Zach and Y/N learn she has a concussion and probably amnesia. Zach could definitely a test to the last part since she seems to think he is her boyfriend. “Sweetie, what happened are you okay?” an older woman, who looks like Y/N, frets, rushing to her. Zach assumes this is Y/N’s mom and goes in to reassure her, “She has a mild concussion and amnesia.” The man with the mother raises his eyebrow. “And are you her doctor?” he questions. Zach shakes his head, “No, I’m Zach. I was with her when she got hit by the car.” The man nods and her mother’s eyes light up. “So you’re the boyfriend. It is so nice to meet you, I’m Kim and this is Gary. We are Y/N’s parents. She’s told us so much about you,” Kim introduces. Y/N goes on to complain, “Way to keep it cool, Mom.” “I’m sorry, Sweetie. But he is so cute and seems nice,” Kim apologizes. Zach feels strange about just letting the family believe he is actually Y/N’s boyfriend, but there isn’t exactly a good time to say that while in the hospital. The doctor returns to speak with her parent, so Zach excuses himself to call someone for advice.

“Guess where I am,” he whispers into the phone. Zoey checks the time, “Coaching your sister’s soccer practice?” “No. I’m at the hospital,” he replies. She sits up from her lying position on the couch, “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine. It’s just that Y/N Y/L/N got hit by a car. Now, she and her whole family think I am her boyfriend.”

“Elle says she is dating a Zach. Zach Davis. He’s the captain of the hockey team. She just sent you his Insta.”

While Zach scrolls through the other Zach’s profile, the doctor catches his attention. “Oh, and Mr. Boyfriend. Make sure she stays calm. We wouldn’t want anything stressing her out and making her conduction worse,” she instructs before walking off. Zach groans into the phone, “What am I supposed to do if I can’t stress her out?” “Okay, calm down. Just take her parents aside and let them break the news to her,” Zoey explains. Calm washes over his face, “Yes, that’s a great idea. You are one smart cookie, Zoey Miller.” They bid their goodbyes and he heads back to the Y/L/Ns.

“Zach, you’re back. We were just talking about you. How would you like to come over for dinner tonight?” Kim asks, helping Y/N sit up so she can get ready to be discharged. It’s like the perfect opportunity falls into his lap.

——

He walks into the Y/L/N’s residence, helping Y/N onto the couch. “Your parents have a nice house,” he looks around the room. As soon as they are settled on the couch, a little boy pops up from behind the couch with a scream. A man a little bit older than Zach sets himself on the chair beside the couch. “Connor, don’t scare her. She has a concussion,” he chides the younger boy. Y/N sighs, “Zach, this is my little brother, Connor. And my older brother, uhh…” “Jared. His name is Jared,” Connor offers with a devious smile. Y/N nods, “Right, Jared. This is my older brother, Jared.” Zach sees Connor’s giggles and leans towards her, “I think he is messing with you, Baby.” “Oh. I think you are right,” she rubs her forehead, trying to remember her brother’s name. “Jack. His name is Jack.” Jack lets out a cheer and holds out his hand for Zach to take.

Soon, dinner is served and Zach sits beside Y/N. As Connor is recounting his day, Y/N goes to whisper in his ear, “Thank you for keeping up with my strange family. I know you didn’t want to meet them, but it means a lot that you are here.” Zach feels bad at the words she says. Why wouldn’t her real boyfriend want to meet her family? They are so kind and funny. And Y/N is amazing. Even with a concussion, she is so bright and genuine. He has always had a little bit of a crush on her, ever since she gave him a coffee on the house when she saw he was having a hard day. She wrote his name with a happy face and little hearts, which made his day. Sometimes he finds himself going where she works just to see her smile.

“No problem. I think your family is great,” he says, looking at her with a smile. She grins back at him and slides her fingers through his hand on his lap. “Well, if you think we are so great, why don’t you come skiing with us this weekend?” Gary suggests, overhearing the whispers between his daughter and her (not) boyfriend. Zach knows the words about to come out of his mouth shouldn’t be the ones that follow, but he really does like her family and he wants to get the opportunity to get to know her better. He knows it is wrong to take Y/N’s moment of confusion and to take it as a chance to fill his delusion. However, he really doesn’t see any harm in pretending for the weekend.

——

“Are you sure you don’t want to hit the slopes? You don’t have to stay behind just for me,” Y/N double-checks, looking at him behind the couch. He sits on the back of the couch and lets himself flop back on the seat cushion. He nods, “Yep. I think it would be nice to hang out with you.” “Really? Well, I’m a very busy gal, I have to check my schedule,” she teases, taking out her phone to look at her calendar. “Oh, look at that the only thing I have planned is to have a concussion. I guess we can hang out.” He grins at her and sits up, scooting closer to her. She scoots over to sit beside him, putting herself under his arms, which makes him happy. “What should we do?” he inquires, looking down at her with a smile. She plays at putting thought into it and drags him to the game room.

They head over to the air hockey table, but she notices Zach’s gaze toward the foosball table. “We can play foosball if you’d like. I just thought you would like air hockey more since you are on the team,” she explains, changing way toward the other table. Zach has to quickly cover his tracks, “Uh, yeah. I do like hockey, but I’m better at foosball than air hockey.”

The game they play fills the room with laughter. Zach would yell at her for cheating by spinning her knob, while she would argue she is just using her tools to her advantage. After her last spin causes the tiny ball to sail through the hole for the goal, Zach runs around to her side and picks her up by the waist. “That is the last time you cheat!” he playfully reprimands. Her laughter stops and her hand flies to her head. She starts to move in a dizzy-like motion with her hand still stuck to her head. “Are you okay? Did I grab you too hard? What can I do?” he worries, removing his hands from her to look into her eyes. The tiny giggles she lets out make him feel like she is evil, “I’m just playing with you. I’m sorry. But you can make us something to eat. I can’t use any screens and I have absolutely no recipes memorized.”

——

She watched him in amazement as he made the pizza. She found it incredibly hot to watch him toss the pizza dough in the air. He flicked a little flour at her and she ran away with a shriek. After getting the pizza out of the oven, he helps her up onto the counter and cuts the food. She takes the first bite and the moan she lets out absolutely kills Zach. He finds the pizza held out in front of his mouth, taking a bite at her encouragement. He really hopes the food hides his blush. “This tastes great! Where did you learn how to cook?” she praises, going in for another bite. His blush deepens, “I took lessons as a kid. It was really fun.” Her eyebrows raised. “Really? I always saw you as a more, I will only do hockey because hockey is my life kind of guy.”

“Right, hockey. I love socc- I love so much hockey, but I don’t think hockey is what I’m going to do after graduation.”

“Why not? If you like it so much, why don’t you go pro?”

“I do like it, but let’s be honest, I’m not good enough to get drafted. Truth is I don’t know what I’m going to do after graduation.”

“I haven’t seen you play hockey much or really understand how it is played, but I’m sure that isn’t true. But anyway, if you don’t think hockey is your thing, I think opening a pizza place is your path. This is great.”

Although she doesn’t know he is talking about soccer, he loves that she can see him passed the athlete and see a different part of him. Most people he knows are just interested in him because of his sport. “So what do you want to do after graduation?” he questions, picking up another slice for himself. Her eyes light up, “I’m not too sure yet. I know I’m a computer science major, but I really just chose it because it can be a useful fallback. I think maybe I want to travel around the world and take pictures.” He is touched that she is so open and honest with her answer. He likes that even though her future seems uncertain, she is still hopeful about it. “That sounds amazing. If you need a travelling partner, then I would gladly go with you. I’m sure you are an amazing photographer,” he encourages. Again, a confused look crosses her face, “I thought you hated going outside of the US. You said that nothing good happens outside of America.” Zach fears that his lies are going to start to unravel. The universe seems to come in for the assist because her family comes back at that moment.

“Hey, you two. What did you do today?” Kim ponders, giving Y/N a kiss on her cheek. She smiles at her mom, “What didn’t we do?” Everyone over the age of eighteen widens their eyes and Zach helps clear things up. “All PG.” Completely missing the moment Connor pats his pockets. “I left my gloves at the lodge. We have to go back,” he panics. Zach jumps off the counter and pats his back, “Don’t worry, Con. Y/N and I can go with you to get it.”

They get to the lodge and Connor runs inside to get his gloves. Zach turns to Y/N to find her making a snowman. “Need some help?” he proposes, walking over to her. She nods with a smile and they get to work on the snowman. She makes the middle part while he forms the bottom and once she is done, she picks it up to bring it to him. She trips over her feet and goes flying toward him. He catches her as he falls back. The snow from her ball smushes between them. They both sit up while laughing. Her hair falls over her face and he brushes it out of the way, leaving his warm hand on her cheek. The sun lightens her hair and this moment feels perfect. He has been avoiding kissing her to not take advantage of her, but it felt right in the moment. His lips find hers and fireworks spark between them. He scoots forward to deepen the kiss, bringing his other hand up to her cheek until Connor comes out and ruins the kiss.

——

The weekend comes to an end too fast for Zach. The group recounts their highlights of the mini-vacation, laughing that Connor’s favourite part was playing Battletoads with Zach. Zach is helping Y/N with her bags when the engine of a car catches their attention. “Y/N Y/L/N, you haven’t been answering my texts,” a low voice growls. Y/N freezes at the voice and turns toward the man. Distress washes over her, “Who are you?” She takes a step closer to Zach and he wants to curl his arms around her to make her feel protected. “Who am I? I’m Zach Davis, your boyfriend,” he shouts with his eyebrow knitted. Now, her family looks confused. “You can’t be her boyfriend because he is her boyfriend,” Gary points out, looking toward Zach. Her real boyfriend lets out a low laugh, “Of course, that bitch is cheating on me. Why am I not surprised?” Anger flushes through Zach.

“Hey! Don’t talk about her like that. She isn’t cheating on you. It’s my fault she isn’t answering your texts; I lied to her. She got hit by a car and lost her memory. My name is also Zach and she thought I was her boyfriend. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth,” Zach clarifies. “I’m sorry for lying, Y/N. I just wanted to get to know you and I’m glad I got to because you really are the most amazing person I have ever met. I’m going to go now before I make this more awkward.” Before Zach is out of hearing distance, he can hear Connor complaining that he is better than Y/N’s actual boyfriend. This causes a sad smile to form on Zach’s face.

——

It has been weeks since he last saw Y/N. He has been too embarrassed to go back to her parents’ house and only goes to class then back home. Zach is used to being the gossip of the campus because he is on the soccer team, but it feels a little different when people are talking about his deception. Zoey enters his dorm to find Zach watching a cooking show while eating ice cream. “You can’t just stay up here for the rest of your life,” she critiques, opening his curtains. He ignores her gaze, “Yes, I can. She said that I could open a pizza store.” His mind is blank except for thoughts of her. “I know she did. You’ve told me that a hundred times already,” Zoey gives him a tight-lipped smile.

“Why did I have to mess up so badly?”

“Because you were blinded by love. I can’t believe I just said that. But you like her. That’s why.”

“Right, and I had to lie to her, which broke her trust. Now, she is happily off with Zach Davis.”

“You know they broke up, right? Like literally right after the ski trip.”

“Really? Why?”

“That’s only a question that she can answer.”

——

Zach has been thinking about it all day and has decided to go see Y/N. Her bright smile is the first thing he sees when he enters the coffee shop. It makes his heart leap when it doesn’t drop at the sight of him. Instead, it softens, somehow getting warmer. “Hi,” he awkwardly greets, hand shooting up to the back of his neck. She breaths out, “Hey, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You disappeared on me the other day.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would want to see me after you found out the truth.”

She whispers something to her co-worker and rounds the counter, taking off her apron on the way. She stands in front of him and takes his hand in hers. “I was a little upset at first, but then I realized that I couldn’t be mad at you. Do you want to know why?” she confesses. He nods his head like a child in anticipation. “Cause you are the Zach I want to be with. You helped me realize how much of an asshole Davis was to me. You treated me with so much love and made me feel safe.” Zach is ecstatic at her words and rushes forward to give her the kiss they have both been waiting for. It is soft but passionate, showing the need they both felt for each other. His arms round her body, engulfing her in the safety of his embrace. Zach Maclaren can’t believe he has found love with the girl he has always wanted.

#zach maclaren #zach maclaren x reader #the other zoey #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x you

1K notes · View notes

hopeastrz · 3 months

Text

𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒🪷 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫/𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 + 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭.

𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧 may indicate having a serious spouse, disciplined, neat and works hard to make fortune for his family, you’ll have a stable and long marriage due to saturn influence, but there will be many lessons to learn along the way.

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 are born to be mothers, you can’t convince me otherwise, they just have this caring aura around them that resembles a hug!.

𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 especially 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐧/𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 I’ve seen or talked too always tend to be over thinkers, and i know that this might’ve been said before but it’s really one of their prominent traits, they are usually 25/8 nervous and they tend to be a bit perfectionistic.

Having 𝟏𝟏°, 𝟐𝟑° 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭 tells you where you may be original or a trendsetter.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟏°,𝟐𝟑° your ideas, your voice may be unique, if you’re an author or just like writing in general you tend to create unique literature pieces that are considered quite creative.

𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝟏𝟏°, 𝟐𝟑° your style is original, what you wear, makeup you apply on your face, or even perfumes you buy may be quite underrated or unique etc..

Having 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟖°, 𝟐𝟎° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 may indicate going through many transformations with your friendships, they are always unstable, changing and evolving, also you may be the type to change personalities and sacrifice lots of things for your friends, please be careful and don’t get way too attached.

Having 𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞, 𝐏𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟏𝟐°, 𝟐𝟒° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 may indicate always attracting relationships with people that are calm, like serene or just way too quiet (one may even say secretive) on the outside but freakiest people to exist on the inside, one of my friends has this placement and her boyfriend barley speaks when he’s around us, but when he calls her and thinks we can’t hear him let me tell you.. that man becomes a whole different person, its kinda fascinating to be honest, neptune illusionary influence doesn’t fail to impress me.

𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 are hot as hell, both figuratively and well… literally no like they need to chill please calm down a bit you guys are really really fiery, always on your feet and ready to throw hands if someone angers you, seems cliché i know but it’s the truth.

𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 is one of my favorite placements to have, and i believe that it indicates fame and having a very beautiful spouse, also a very ethereal beauty.

I also noticed something a weird pattern on a whim but why does 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 tend to work on medical fields and 𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 may excel quite well in companies, relations and business in general.

𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐧>>>>>>> that’s it.

If they have earth placements combined with fire placements you won at life.

I have 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝟏𝟓° 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞, many people have told me that my voice is soothing and beautiful, i also love singing!.

#astrology #astrology notes #astrology observations #astrology aspects #astrology degrees #astrology houses #aesthetic #astrology planets #manifestation #self healing #astrotips #astrology reading #astro #astro notes #astro observations #astroblr

857 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 1 year

Note

141 X Male Reader where they are surprised that Male Reader is older than all of them, (even Price) and still moves like he's 20 on the field and they all gush over him...

141 x male reader

Headcanons

John Price

- Google says Price is 37 but there is no fucking way that man is only 37 if you ask me. That mans gotta be at least 40. So, when you sprint faster than any of the others and move like a 20 year old, he’s honestly amazed.

- When he asks how you do it you just shrug and say you do yoga sometimes but besides that you are just like that. The two of you like to smoke together at times to take a break, where you two just talk casually and hang out.

- He wouldn’t verbalize it, but he finds it attractive, I mean who wouldn’t right? Seeing a 40+ man pick up enemies and throwing them around like ragdolls does something to a man. He wouldn’t flirt super obviously, but he does say some flirty comments every now and then.

- Because you are closer in age the two of you spend more time together, like going for runs in the early morning and things like that.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

- Gaz would look up to you but also thirst for you, because how can he not. It especially becomes a thirst when during a mission you just throw him over your shoulder like he weighs nothing and sprints away from enemies.

- He would go to you for advice when working out so he can be just as energetic as you when he at some point gets older, its also because he gets to look you up and down as you show him how to do certain exercises, but who’s gonna call him out for that.

- I feel like he teaches you slang that you don’t normally understand since there’s such an age difference between you and some of the younger recruits.

- He doesn’t preen as much as Ghost, but Gaz likes when you compliment him too, it motivates him to work harder so he can be someone you feel proud of.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

- Simon “Daddy issues” Riley would be the thirstiest if you ask for my opinion honestly,,, I think he very much as a thing for older men, now be it a preference or because of his past idk but he does.

- Wouldn’t show it but there’s part of him that tries to impress you, and he preens when you compliment him. He isn’t as good at hiding it as he thinks cuz the others definitely tease him about it.

- Does his best to keep up with you and has pushed himself too far on multiple occasions which leads to you having to patch him up whilst scolding him and telling him he has to remember to take care of himself.

- When you say you don’t wanna lose him because he’s working himself to the bone, he goes a little red under his balaclava, not that he would ever admit this.

John “Soap” MacTavish

- Soap would not believe your age when you first met, and its only after hes seen your documents that he begrudgingly accepts that you are older than Price but fresher than everyone else here.

- I feel Soap is the one who doesn’t feel shame to flirt with you very openly, like touching your biceps or asking you to spar with him, and whilst sparring he makes all kinds of passes.

- You would just think he was joking of course since your major age difference and tell Soap to shove it since his distraction tactic wont work, and that if he wants to get the upper hand, he should try something else.

- He would very much like when you pick him up and pin him, even if you don’t believe hes truly flirting with you. He does sit down with his face in his hands later because you just cant seem to take a hint sometimes, but it only motivates him to try harder to make you swoon.

2K notes · View notes

rirururu · 1 year

Text

Why Bachira x Isagi (Blue Lock) is One of the Best Ships of All Time

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR UP TO CHAPTER 86 OF THE MANGA

I’ll be honest and say that while Isagi and Bachira’s dynamic in the first arc was cute, it wasn’t anything that stood out to me too much. It seemed like a very typical sports anime type relationship at first. The main character shoots. His friend is there for him and passes to him so he can shine. They have good chemistry. They achieve results together that would be un-imaginably amazing compared to when they were apart. We’ve seen it so many times before already. Kageyama and Hinata, Kuroko and Kagami, Mihashi and Abe; the list goes on.

That all stops when the second selection starts.

Bachira was forced to leave and suddenly Isagi has to fight on his own. He recognizes that up until now, he’s only been useful because of Bachira and in order to get him back, has to learn to fight without him. And, contrary to what we’re made to believe in the first selection that Isagi is better when with Bachira, the truth is that Isagi actually thrives without Bachira. In fact, he gets so powerful that even an outsider like Nagi who initially called him worthless without Bachira genuinely believed that Isagi would decide against stealing Bachira back by the end.

As for Bachira, he’s given a hard wake-up call when he finally sees Isagi again. He recognizes how much better Isagi is without him to the point of Isagi ignoring him on the field, and that sets the part of himself that can only feel alive when he’s with Isagi off. It’s only with this wake-up call that Bachira realizes everything he’s thought up until now was wrong. That’s when we get a parallel to what Isagi did for Bachira in learning to fight without him in order to get him back. In exchange for being able to stand on the same level as and not be left behind by Isagi, Bachira threw away his purpose of playing soccer as his way to connect with Isagi. He realized he shouldn’t do things for the sake of staying by Isagi’s side. He should be doing things for his own growth. Bachira did this fully believing and grieving that he was giving up on being with Isagi. So much so that in his head, Bachira says goodbye to him. And in a similar fashion to Isagi, that’s the moment we learn that Bachira is actually stronger without him.

They both had to get stronger out of desperation to stay together, and consequently abandoned that part of themselves that depended on each other in the first place.

I want to pause right here and just applaud the author. I know Blue Lock has been praised as being a subversion of a ton of sports manga tropes and this is probably one of the most fantastic examples. We’re so used to the protagonist-and-partner combination being put on a pedestal. But here, it’s deconstructed right in front of us to show how it actually hinders both Isagi and Bachira as strikers and as people. And honestly? It felt like that would be it. I remember my heart dropping when I reached that point in the manga. Logically they would go their separate ways in a mutual break-up.

But they don’t. In the final scene of the soccer match, we see that everyone hadn’t believed in Bachira’s ego since long ago while Isagi had never stopped believing in him. Isagi caught Bachira’s winning goal. I thought that was a perfect parallel to their first meeting when Bachira passed the ball to the monster and then Isagi became the monster. This time Bachira abandoned the monster. There was no monster anymore because Bachira left it behind but even when the monster was gone, Isagi was still there. It's symbolic of how he doesn't see Isagi as just a monster anymore. He sees Isagi as Isagi, signaling a new era in their relationship.

And that’s also when Bachira realizes that just because he’s grown away from needing Isagi, just because he doesn’t live to make Isagi stronger anymore, just because he’s embracing that part of him that plays soccer solitarily for himself, doesn’t mean Isagi won’t still be there with him and believing in him. Bachira could change as much as he wants and the other won’t leave. They don’t need each other anymore, but that’s exactly what allows them to realize that being together makes them so happy, makes soccer so much fun, that they want to stick together until the very end anyway.

(Or the official translation / scans)

This direction for their relationship seems bittersweet but I think that’s what makes it realistic. Relationships are multi-faceted and they change over time. Isagi and Bachira had to say goodbye to one aspect of their relationship but they also gained a new one. They both used to rely on each other a lot to be their very best. That mutualistic symbiotic relationship they had in soccer, that is the crutch in so many sports anime, is gone now. Bachira and Isagi aren’t necessary to each other in soccer anymore. Personally though, I think this new dynamic actually makes them closer than they were before.

To Bachira, Isagi used to be a person he needed to pass to because he’s a monster and someone who staved off his loneliness. To Isagi, Bachira used to be someone who made good passes to help him function in soccer. I think the fact that Bachira was so easily swayed to making Rin his new “monster” made it evident. As they continue to grow as strikers, they’ll be cycling through teammates most suited to their skillset. Teammates come and go. What Isagi and Bachira are to each other evolved past that, beyond the soccer field, and became something that would stay with them their entire lives. There is no “I’m with Isagi because if I can’t play soccer with him, I would die from loneliness” or “I’m with Bachira because he lets me be invincible on the field” anymore. They’re together because they want to be and because they love each other (platonically or romantically). That’s all.

(Manga panel taken from an AMV on youtube)

And I think that’s beautiful. It’s beautiful because this is what true unconditional love looks like. I know what the manga did to them might not be the “popular” thing. Ships that are super dependent on each other and need each other to live are the ones that get views because it’s seen as romantic. But Bachisagi / Isabachi abandoned that to instead become one of the healthiest relationships you could possibly get not just in a sports anime but in general.

I mean, wow. I wish I had someone who wanted to be with me and had the emotional capacity to always believe in me no matter how much I changed, disappointed, and grew away from centering my world around them. I wish I had someone who could say that they don’t need me anymore but that’s exactly why they can say in full confidence that they still want me with all their heart. Bachisagi is seriously #relationshipgoals more than most married couples.

In conclusion, Bachira/Isagi deserves way more recognition and I will happily scream into the void with the other 6 of you out there who ship them /j

#bachisagi #isabachi #blue lock #bachira meguru #isagi yoichi #bllk #abbreviating blue lock as BLLK to avoid calling it BL is hilarious #blue lock manga #meta #discourse #manga #manga spoilers

2K notes · View notes

m1d-45 · 1 year

Note

if my favorite characters wanted to kill me i would simply let them. my only request would be that they do it from up close so that their pretty faces get to be the last thing i see <3<3<3

on broken bones

a/n: you…. you are my target audience.

(P.S: please note that the full fic was too long for tumblr! this will be in 3-4 parts, but dw, they’re all already mostly written!)

word count: ~2.5k

-> warnings: minor spoilers for liyue archon quest, the most minor of spoilers for mondstat’s archon quest, you are literally about to die, and do so but it’s ok i get revived, uhh blood mention but no gore, imposter au things yk? reader is Down Bad for zhongli at one point

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3

< masterlist > || next part >>

you never had the highest level of self-preservation.

when you’d come to teyvat, the world seemed so kind, so you never learned to fear it. bugs never stung, any allergies you had never really acted up besides a sniffly nose, and the sun never burned. if you tripped, you landed softly, in the hands of grass that would never dare to harm you, and a breeze swept by the soothe the sting of your palms. the wind carried you down from high places, the water always keeping you afloat, the entirety of the natural world at your side.

or, rather, nearly the entirety.

despite wandering constantly, it took a few months to actually run into anybody. in fact, the only way you knew you were in teyvat at first were the sunsettias, and the hilichurls when you finally came across one of their camps. you have a feeling the dense forests and overgrown paths knew something you didn’t, looking back on it.

maybe you should have listened.

you stopped in the middle of a well-worn path of yours, stilling the sweet flower you were twirling in your hand. a few feet ahead, a stunned amber mirrored your look of shock, though her recognition was tinged with something more… bitter.

“amber?”

the bowstring in her hands doesn’t lose its tension. “greetings.”

that’s not the knights’ prescribed greeting, your mind says. you tell your mind to shut up, because that’s not what you should be thinking about when you’re looking at amber.

you wave, trying for a smile, and emotions you can’t catch flash over her face in rapid succession.

“how do you know my name?”

whoops. “who hasn’t heard of the knights of favonius?”

“those from other lands.” for being so young, her voice is so tired. she sounds like she’s barely 18, yet she’s so worn out… nobody this young should be so exhausted.

after a moment’s thought, you step forward, extending your flower-

her arm moves faster than you ever could, raising, aiming, and letting the arrow fly before you can blink. her shoulders are tense, her chest barely moving despite how harshly she breathes, arms still posed around her bow.

it’s only then that you’re aware of the white-hot pain in your throat, the sting of icy numbness swiftly taking its place.

the sweet flower falls to the ground, your body soon following.

when you wake up, the first thing you do is press a hand over your throat, but all you feel is the chill of your own skin. no arrow. no blood. you check your shirt, but there’s no blood there either.

it’s like it never happened. but you know it did.

still keeping a hand to the area, you sit up, ignoring how your body protests. you’re in another field, unsurprisingly, green grass and blue skies and red birds all around. it’s hard to believe that your run-in with amber wasn’t a dream.

even if you know it wasn’t.

you rise shakily, feeling very much so like you’re relearning your body. how to stand, how to dig your fingers between the sections of bark on a tree so you don’t fall, how to breathe when it feels like all the air in your lungs was in a race to get out. still, you breathe.

still, you stand.

still, you move on.

the earth seems angry.

looking out from the jade chamber, this is clear. the skies are an irritated gray, billowing clouds heavy with rain. they had come from nowhere, suddenly washing in from the north in with no warning, but a single drop has yet to fall. the ground occasionally shakes, enough to make leaves quiver, but no earthquake has come. it’s odd, like the very rock is holding in its breath, waiting for the trigger to let loose what is certainly disaster upon the land above it.

even the tianquan’s gems, normally large, sterling rocks swirling around her fingertips, refuse to answer her call. as she flips over a small coin of amber, the most she’s been able to summon, she wonders why.

one of ningguang’s many assistants comes out of the chamber, telling her that keqing has a report for her, and she tells them to send her out with a wave of a clawed finger. normally, she’d come inside—normally she wouldn’t be out here to begin with—but this… oddity in the landscape has her attention.

the door behind her silently slides open and shut, the clicks of the yuheng’s shoes the only indication of her presence.

“it’s odd to see you outside at such an hour, my lady.”

it’s midday.

“what is it, keqing?”

“this letter came in for you.”

an envelope enters her periphery and she takes it, careful not to damage the paper as she inspects the wax seal. it bears the insignia of the favonian knights.

“that’s hardly a rare occurrence.”

“indeed, but this one carries significant importance.” she takes a breath, an explanation on her tongue, but it dies. she knows she shouldn’t let her biases get in the way of the tianquan’s work, but this situation feels so wrong. her vision burns at the back of her neck despite her attacks doing less damage, the electro that dances across her skin hurts more than it should. it’s wrong, horribly so, but she needs to-

“keqing?”

she meets the tianquan’s eyes. ruby red dissecting her every move, and keqing is quick to look away.

“apologies, my lady. as i was saying…”

the dead refuse to rest.

they have always been unruly, leaving behind legacies and lingering feelings, leaving the living and letting them deal with it. what would be known as the wangsheng funeral parlor was established to battle these lingering debts, and it seems that even after 77 generations, the current director still has to pick up that mantle.

she’s felt it all day. the rowdiness of the undead, the spirits dancing and twirling around where they shouldn’t be. her soul told her there was one too many around, and so she had set her mind on going.

the director adjusted the flowers in her hat, watching in annoyance as her consultant thought over her words. she thought the answer was quite simple, and had rushed to fix the problem, but he was adamant that she explain herself first.

“and you’re certain?”

hu tao groaned, squeezing her eyes shut so they wouldn’t roll. “yes, i’m certain! surely youve noticed too, or is that vision for nothing?”

a glimmer of irritation crossed zhongli’s calm eyes. “this is a matter of utmost importance, director. the dead refusing to die is a serious issue.”

“you think i don’t know that? i run a funeral parlor-“

“director-“

“no. i’m going to wuwang hill, and all i need you to do is take care of the parlor while i’m gone. that’s it.”

“director, please. you cannot throw yourself into dangerous situations and expect me to sit by idly.”

“what are you, my dad?”

“i would hope not, as your father is currently deceased.”

in the gaping silence that followed, hu tao couldn’t decide if she was more shocked at the fact that he brought up her father’s passing, or that he had borderline joked about it.

zhongli cleared his throat, the only sign of apology she would receive. “i will go alone if i must.”

“you want to go-“

“indeed. i cannot allow you to venture into such an unsafe area on your own, and i myself wish to find the answer to this. if you cannot find anybody to run the parlor in your stead, then i will simply go alone.”

names and faces of employees ran through her head, options brought up and discarded quicker than any decision she’s ever made before. something in her soul demanded she go to wuwang hill, her pyro vision an insistent press between her shoulder blades, urging her to leave zhongli and just go. it was illogical, irrational, and she knew that if he saw he’d be worried and when all she needed was to simply leave-

a name emerged from the clutter.

“ferrylady.”

though his jaw ticked, zhongli nodded.

wuwang hill itself is uneasy.

zhongli has seen many things during his lifetime, but few of his memories could compare to this. the ground quivered underneath his feet, only truly steadying where he, as the lord of geo, stepped.

in truth, he had felt the same disturbance as hu tao, but had wanted to preserve his reputation as zhongli, ignoring the cold sting in his soul from where his gnosis used to be. his plan was to go after hours, when the dark could shadow his form, but now that he was here he was glad he didn’t.

the forest’s canopy was denser than usual, it seemed, barely any light filtering through the leaves. the will-o’-the-wisps shone brighter and more frequently than normal, and not a hilichurl was in sight. it was strange, unnerving to walk the familiar path, and he found himself prepared to summon a stele at any moment. the air itself felt tense, his element not resonating right.

how can stone feel hollow?

hu tao stepped closer to him, eyes uncharacteristically wide as she looked around. “why does it feel so… empty?”

he moved a hand to her back, urging her on faster. “i don’t know, ms. hu. please, do hurry.”

her fingers play with the tassels on her shirt as she walks, speeding up at his side. she’s always been fond of the macabre, but this… this isn’t that. this isn’t slow and sticky, raw honey made of skeleton bees that drips through bones and pulls at the hair atop skin, this isn’t the abrupt hit of symbolism or the stop of a heart as you’re face to face with a corpse, the smell of rotting flesh mixing with the bile climbing up your throat.

this is sharp. angular. a spike with every step she takes on the familiar dirt, thorns clinging to the lining of her lungs and digging in to hide from the chilling air. the sense that she doesn’t belong here, that she should leave, is steadily growing in response to the drive to keep walking, and she wonders if and when it’ll balance before tipping over. regardless, she keeps walking, steeling her spine and forcing assuredness into her walk.

besides her, zhongli isn’t doing much better. the air reeks of the sweetness of the divine, and the thundering in his heart matches, but here? of all places? he knew his god—he prided himself on it—and knew that they didn’t like places like this. and the feeling of wrongness, the stone beneath him seeming to slip under his feet and forcing him to walk quicker to make up for it, the claws of tree branches and roots of bushes somehow larger than before. as they approached the stone steps, he didn’t know what to expect, for once. he was unsure whether to be on edge, or to scold himself for being tense over nothing.

surely, he thought, rounding the corner, it couldn’t be nothing?

you watched the water ripple from your safe spot on the edge of the stone path cutting through it, smiling at the way the fish followed your hand when you hovered it over the surface. they were beautiful, some kind of koi by the looks of it, and certainly not what you expected.

when you recognized the wisps of wuwang hill, you had initially been afraid. it was dark, even during the day, and filled with monsters. not to mention it held the barrier between life and death, something you were not keen on ever getting close to. but as the shouts of the qingce villagers echoed in your ears, you decided it was the safest option, at least for the moment.

and it was. there were no hilichurls, no cicin mages, and the wisps seemed to float alongside you, lighting the way for a while before another came up and took over. they’d guided you to the domain, whose stone was shockingly warm. it was the crimson witch domain from what you remember, so that checked out, but for it to physically affect the stone…

you wondered what the archaic petra domain would feel like if that were the case. could stone feel more stone-like? if you were to somehow break off a chunk, would it do more damage than a regular rock? would that even count as geo damage?

you let your hand trail across the water, feeling scales bump against the pads on your fingertips with another smile. you wondered where they got their food, as the pond seemed both shallow and fairly barren, but there seems to be more and more greenery as you look. were your eyes adjusting to the light better, or were they the kinds of plants that only bloomed under certain conditions? but no, that would be for flowers, not-

“who are you?”

the harsh voice makes you jump, the fish jerking back before crowding the water near where you’ve fallen over. your surprise nearly made you fall in, but as you see who’s approaching you, you think that might have been better.

boots stomp over the stone that’s been your tentative camp, not stopping until they land toe to toe with yours. eyes carved from cor lapis glare down at you, cutting any argument you may have had to shreds.

yes, partly because zhongli is intimidating, but…

lighter shoes click and draw your attention, but you don’t get to turn your head far before you’re met with the pulsing black and gold point of vortex vanquisher.

“do not interest yourself in that which is out of your reach.”

oh.

you swallow in attempt to remedy the sudden dryness in your throat, following the handle of the polearm up to meet his eyes once more. his eyeliner looks sharper than on his in-game model, you note, and he has an earring, the golden jewel on it a perfect complement.

his eyes narrow, the set of his jaw making you think he’d sneer if he were anybody else. he rips his polearm from the stone besides you, “what could you possibly be looking at?”

you know this is it. you know exactly why he hasn’t spun his weapon back around, you knew it from the moment his sunset gaze fell upon you. so.. why lie?

“you’re beautiful,” you whisper.

and for the second time that week, you die.

1K notes · View notes

m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

Text

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 18

Staring John Lennon, as that kid I should’ve been nicer to in first grade who always smelled like PB&J and was never to be seen without his pokemon cards

The dancing is really too cute. They’re just absolutely giddy. Making each other laugh AND an excuse to touch? John and Paul’s heaven.

John saying he was too excited after yesterday to go to bed. Like a fucking kid on christmas.

Everybody is serving today. While the candy-land suit is fun, I actually just love that vivid purple so much that I think it’s better without the coat over it. Billy looks extremely suave and classy. And those red polka-dots on Ringo. Red suits him, and I think with his very frank, masculine aspect, he looks so beautiful and bold in feminine fits. Paul and John are both just wearing what they wore yesterday. Yeah. But John is still a cutie, and Paul, well, you all know.

The advice chain about finishing a song while you’re working on. Paul → John → George

Paul honestly does a great job being supportive of George and his work. Coming over and grooving with him, then hopping on drums then guitar (right-handed, may I add). Just to give George musical atmosphere to flesh out his song and start thinking of arrangement ideas, I assume. Then letting him bounce ideas around. And the whole time being overly-enthusiastic to build George up. Look how happy George is with the love and attention.

John helping move some equipment in. We love a man who sometimes doesn’t think he’s too good for manual labor.

Yes, clean that homeless man’s palm sweat off your instrument. Probably smart.

TFW you made Paul McCartney jealous of your musical abilities.

John really knew so well when to be his little impish self and when to be hard and intimidating. Exhibit A, going from, “Can we have our microphones, oh, mister, can we please?” to “And get one for Billy too.” In a matter of seconds.

George Martin stepping in when they’re all getting panicky about the sound and they need an authority figure to reassure them in ways that someone like Glyn Johns never could. Just, perfectly cool and collected, puts everything right as they’re all shouting at him like school children who’ve just had a terrible time in PE.

“Believe me, when I tell you.” “Oh, I do.” Oh, good. He did put it in. That’s nice. Right, and this is the moment Yoko decides to tell John her divorce has come through and pull him in for a big smooch. Honestly, it just shows how threatened she feels by Paul. Nevermind her whole, “good thing Paul isn’t a girl or he would have been a great threat,” quote. Clearly, he just is a threat regardless of sex.

And then John, “I’m freeeee.” At Paul. Honestly, the amount of things they direct specifically and aggressively at each other that should’ve just been general statements if there wasn’t some weird thing between them. It’s really something. Normally, you’d announce something like that to the whole room. But it seems John specifically wants to impress upon Paul that he and Yoko could get married right now if they wanted to. I mean, it’s a little difficult to make the point, because John and Paul almost aways seem to be talking only to each other. But through the whole discussion of Yoko’s divorce, John does not take his eyes off of Paul.

Oh my gosh, Ivan Vaughn is here? How many emotional support boyfriends does Paul need to make up for John having Yoko? Glyn, Linda, George Martin, Dennis, Robert Fraser, and now Ivan? Fuck’s sake, Yoko, you’re a powerful woman.

Paul’s Strawberry Fields piano. Let me be as vulnerable and broken as possible in my singing, since I can’t show you any other way that you’re killing me. Do you remember this song? That you wrote when we were at the height of our partnership only two years ago? How happy we were then? How beautiful the world seemed for that one brief moment? And John can’t look at him, because, yes he fucking remembers and yes he knows he’s hurting Paul. But for whatever reason, (my theory is he wanted something more Paul couldn’t give him. What that was and whether it was ever specifically vocalized I don't have a guess) going back to that time would be more painful to John than this has been.

So they’ve been goofing off and Paul gives this little speech to get them back on task. “Alright Chawn Love. I’ve gotta call order, John, now, valuable time, here, son. Cool down, son.” But John’s response, “Don’t let me down, babe” completely switches Paul’s gears. He now thinks it’s important enough to get in this little snatch of a *meaningful* cover, “Take these Chains from my Heart,” reversing the course of productivity he’d got them on and ignoring the fact that they were about to do a take on two-shilling-a-foot tape. My interpretation of this moment is a bit tin-hatish and long, but suffice it to say, John is not happy with the message.

Everyone convincing Paul to do another take of his song is surprising, considering everything we always hear about how Paul was a tyrant task-master who just forced everyone to keep doing his lame muzak over and over when they all clearly hated it. Mal, “You can always go back to it.” Paul, “Do you want your head kicked in?” John, “We’ll never get a chance to do it again.” Paul, “Okay, honey bunch. Let’s hit it one time, tutti-frutti.”

Yoko watching Paul check out her boyfriend’s ass. Classic. Also the fact that she literally copied his outfit? I get so much second-hand embarrassment for her, and it’s not when she’s being a weirdo and a statement-maker. It’s the having to physically stick the gum you were offering your boyfriend into this hand because he won’t take his eyes off his boyfriend for two seconds to look at you.

Everyone laughing at Perfect Paul being out of tune is so funny to me. Like when the nerd finally gets a question wrong and the whole class is all “ooooohhhh!”

Ringo having a grand old time on the drums. I love that he just knew that’s what he wanted to do from such a young age and he never wanted to do anything else. And why would he? He’s a genius at it.

Paul. “John’s got something at 1:30 and so have I.” Smirk emoji. Side-eye emoji. George is with me. “Yeah we've got something too. I’ll do Ringo at 1:30.” I'm dead.

This moment right here hurts me. Paul’s enjoying a nice cuddle with Ringo until he remembers the camera. You’re not going to get in trouble for having your friend’s arm around your shoulders, Paul. Why are you like this?

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

140 notes · View notes

berryunho · 7 months

Text

THE ANSWER: XXVI

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist

chapter word count: 10,791

“What the hell did you say to Hongjoong?”

Seonghwa is quick to start grilling you as soon as San leaves the two of you alone, glaring at you across from the dinner table. It takes you a few seconds to even remember what he could be referring to, that conversation with Hongjoong taking the back seat in your mind to everything else that had happened today.

You set your spoon down, resting your elbows on the table, “I could be asking you the same question.”

Seonghwa scoffs, mirroring your actions. He leans over the table, though, getting closer to you, “Well I asked first.”

Frowning, you look him up and down, trying to make him squirm a little bit. Unfortunately for you, he doesn’t seem to find you very intimidating. In fact, he only leans closer to you, his face basically taking up your entire field of view. “What did Hongjoong say that I said?”

Seonghwa’s eyes flit to your lips, but you pretend like you don’t notice. “He said that you told him we had sex. Among other things.”

“I said no such thing,” you glare back at him, “I only heavily implied it.”

“Why?” Seonghwa wets his lips, “do you want to get me in trouble, Princess?”

You don’t want to be the one to back down from this confrontation, but being this close to Seonghwa without him touching you might actually make you insane. His stupid fucking hot ass fucking face. It’s too distracting.

But… you’re more stubborn than you are uncomfortable. “Only if you want to get me in trouble.” He smiles a bit at that, but you continue, “if you must know, though, I had to use you as a bit of a scapegoat. I figured you wouldn’t mind, considering the lies you’re telling him about San and me.”

“Lies?” Seonghwa says sarcastically, “what ever would I lie about?” The question is clearly rhetorical.

But you answer it anyway. “You told him that San and I are together.”

Seonghwa’s smile grows, “and is that a lie? Aren’t you?”

“Frankly, it’s not Hongjoong’s business, and it’s not yours, either.”

He brings a hand up to rest under his chin, shrugging his free shoulder. “Difference of opinion. Why should I lie to Hongjoong for you?”

“Well, San and I aren’t together,” you shrug as well, hoping he’s not picking up on the fact that you’re lying through your teeth. It’s actually a bit… uncomfortable to lie about it like this. You don’t want to have to deny… whatever it is that you have going on with San, but that’s just how it is. You suck it up and hope that Seonghwa can’t see your internal battle as you spit the words out.

Seonghwa bites his lip, “is that so? So he wouldn’t mind if I…”

You do lean back, then, smacking his elbow out from under him so that his head falls, hopefully shocking him back into reality. “You wish, pervert.”

He catches his head before he actually hits it on the table, gaping at you, his eyes wide as if he can’t believe that you really just did that. Honestly, you’re kind of surprised that you did it, too. Seonghwa is so fucking tempting. But you’re stronger than that…

“Plus, what would he think,” you tip your head in Hongjoong’s direction, not surprised to see him already staring directly at the two of you. He had been congregating with some of the Followers, but his attention is now clearly occupied, a sneer appearing on his face when he catches you looking. “He already thinks we had sex, no?”

Seonghwa looks back over his shoulder to glance at Hongjoong, quickly spinning back to face you when he sees the look on his leader’s face. “Yeah, thanks for that, by the way. I had the time of my life trying to explain that I had absolutely no idea what you were talking about.”

You shrug, “I needed some way to get his mind off of the fact that someone told me about Haneul. It worked.”

His eyes really go wide, then, “Haneul? Who the fuck told you about Haneul?”

“You did.” You smile, finally picking your spoon back up to eat some more of your soup. This is a damn good soup, you have to remember to compliment Wooyoung on it… if you guys are on speaking terms. You’re not sure about that.

Seonghwa groans, also resuming eating his dinner. “I’m going to get my ass handed to me, Princess. Why wouldn’t you just tell him the truth?” He pauses, dropping his spoon back into his soup, “ wait, let me guess. San told you?”

You shake your head, taking another bite, ignoring his eyes.

“Who else have you been alone with?”

You shrug again, just to piss him off.

It doesn’t work. “When San attempted to help Haseul with the escapade last night, did he have someone watch you?” Seonghwa smiles in disbelief. “He really covered his bases. Who was it?” He searches your face as if the answer will be plastered on it.

It might be, frankly. “It had to have been Wooyoung. Am I right, Princess? Wooyoung watched you? And told you? How on earth did you get that out of him?”

Staying silent, you opt to keep eating your soup. Wooyoung is the obvious choice, looking at the people that San is close enough to trust with such a secret, so it makes sense that Seonghwa would be able to guess him so easily. But you’re not about to tell Seonghwa that he’s right, so you do your best to keep your face plain.

“Oh, this is quite fun information. What else did he tell you? Did you see his back?”

That must be what Wooyoung had been referring to, where his scars are. But, again, you’re not going to ask questions or make Seonghwa believe that he’s right. The last thing that you want to do is throw Wooyoung under the bus for spilling cult secrets that he clearly shouldn’t have.

Seonghwa leans closer again, whispering, “if I promise to not tell Hongjoong, will you tell me? I’m very curious.”

You also lean in closer, putting your spoon down once more, “absolutely not. But will you tell me about Haneul?”

He rolls his eyes, leaning back into his original position. “No, I won’t. She’s quite a sore subject around here.”

… Yeah, you could’ve guessed that. “Can you at least tell me about Jongho and her?”

“No?” Seonghwa looks at you like you’ve really lost your mind, “that’s not your business, Princess.”

“Oh, so their relationship isn’t my business, but my relationship with San is yours?”

“So you admit to having a relationship with San, then?” Seonghwa smirks, pleased to have finally gotten something out of you.

You sigh, “if you’re jealous, you can just say so.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “why on earth would I be jealous of Choi San? If I wanted you so badly, you would be with me.”

You try to make yourself look disgusted at the mere prospect, “that’s bold, even for you.” You say this like the two of you had never been intimate.

Seonghwa shrugs, looking you up and down before leaning closer once more. “If anything, I’m jealous of his ability to disregard Hongjoong’s orders.” The meaning of this admission isn’t lost on you.

You can’t resist returning the look, letting your eyes linger on the way the sleeves of his shirt strain around his biceps. Personally, you don’t give a damn about Hongjoong’s “orders,” but you’re not about to let Seonghwa win this by giving into him. And you have San to worry about. You lean in closer as well, smiling at Seonghwa.

“You’re a pervert,” you whisper, keeping the smile plastered on your face.

Seonghwa smiles, too, despite scoffing at your comment, “that’s really cute, coming from you, Princess.”

“What is?” San’s voice appears from your side, making the both of you jump backward from each other.

Seonghwa keeps the nasty smile on his face, looking up at San, “perfect timing, San. If you’d left her alone with me any longer…”

San gives you a puzzled look, sliding onto the seat next to you. He doesn’t get himself a meal, which is… a little strange, but you ignore it, going back to eating your own.

He ignores Seonghwa’s comment easily. “I couldn’t miss the announcement, could I?” San asks Seonghwa, smiling tightly across the table.

“Announcement?” You ask, looking between the two of them.

Seonghwa holds a hand up before San can start explaining. “You’ll see, Princess.” He smiles at you like you’re not going to like this announcement at all. “But, San, pray tell, where did you just run off to?”

San gives you a sideways glance, and you can only imagine that he probably was doing something that you wouldn’t exactly care for. “I had a conversation that needed to be held, privately.”

Seonghwa raises his eyebrows, “is that so? What ever about? Whomever with?” He asks these questions as if he knows perfectly well their answers, but wants to hear San admit it anyhow. “Why couldn’t your dear (Y/n) be in attendance?”

You honestly aren’t really sure what San means, but the only explanation that you can think is… he apologized to Mingi? That would honestly make you rather happy, though, so you’re not sure why he wouldn’t want to say it in front of you. Maybe Seonghwa truly doesn’t know, and he wants to keep it that way? You’re honestly not too bothered by the fact that he doesn’t want to say.

Before San can respond, the cafeteria falls completely silent.

You twist in your seat to face the front of the room, not at all surprised to see Hongjoong standing there, his hands folded behind his back. He still has that weird outfit on, the ties of the robe dangling down, brushing against his knees with each small movement he makes.

He looks to you, then, giving you a sideways smile before turning back to address the room.

“It is with great joy that I make this announcement tonight.” The cafeteria is just as silent as the chapel. You look around, not at all surprised to see that not a single pair of eyes aren’t on Hongjoong. “Finally, we are prepared to start our harvest season.”

A gentle applause starts, much like the kind you would expect at some sort of… gala, or something. Hongjoong holds a hand up and it immediately halts, everyone in the room once again waiting with baited breath. “Of course, this indicates the start of prosperous times for our group,” he gives you another glance, “but it also invites upon us some of the most troublesome ceremonies and events, as well as opening the door to… unwelcome possibilities.”

… Yeah, whatever the hell that means.

“As harvest will commence in the morning, our first event will happen during our morning gathering. I expect everyone to be in attendance, including children and those otherwise excused. It’s important that we are united as a group, as you all very well know.”

Everyone? Does that include Haseul? Surely it does, even if she hasn’t had a Choosing Ceremony. You want to believe that you’ll get to see your friend, but… You’re not sure. Hongjoong probably will keep her from you as long as he can; keep you on his little leash until he’s decided that you’re obedient enough again.

He waits, holding the attention of the room for a second longer, a tense look on his face. “You all must know that I don’t say these things to scare you. But the harvest season is trying for the Sign, and our connection is in peril every second that…” Hongjoong clears his throat around the words. “That we leave it unguarded. Those participating in the morning ceremony will be notified tonight.”

With that, he turns away from the center of the cafeteria, eyes locking onto your table. Conversation picks back up as he strides toward the three of you, a smile replacing the tenseness.

“Let me guess,” you say to neither Seonghwa nor San in particular, “I’m about to be notified of something?”

Seonghwa smirks, “you can be so bright sometimes.”

“(Y/n)!” Hongjoong calls your name when he’s a few feet away, closing the distance enough to rest a hand on your shoulder before asking, “Are you excited for your first harvest?”

You blink up at him, amazed that he still even bothers, “you just made it sound like something to be weary of, rather than excited for.”

He shrugs, squeezing your shoulder once before releasing you to sit next to Seonghwa. “We haven’t covered the Guardians yet.”

“The what now?”

Hongjoong waves his hand in the air to dismiss your question, “you’ll learn in due time.”

For a second, you think that Seonghwa even rolls his eyes, but that would be truly unfathomable. You’re happy enough to write off whatever the fuck the ‘Guardians’ are. The last thing you want right now is another lesson in cult lore.

“Anyhow,” he clasps his hands, resting them on the table. “You’ll be participating in the ceremony tomorrow. Its a fun one, too.”

You look at San, though he’s looking anywhere but at you. Turning back to Hongjoong, you ask, “do I get to know what this ceremony entails ahead of time, or are you going to surprise stab me again?” You’re honestly surprised by how bold you feel, given everything that’s happened. Maybe seeing him cry reduces him a little bit… no, that’s not it. Whatever it was, you’re just not feeling particularly intimidated by Hongjoong at the moment, surprisingly.

Hongjoong waves a hand in the air, “there’s no need to be so dramatic, (Y/n).”

Honestly, you still think it was a fair question. But you feel lucky that he’s clearly in the bantering mood as well.

“You’ve already been Chosen; you won’t have to prove yourself again,” San offers, albeit rather quietly and more so to himself than to you.

“I feel that its best that you’re prepared for the ceremony,” Hongjoong ignores San’s comment, “Seonghwa can cover it with you.”

Seonghwa jerks his head toward his leader. “I can? I thought I wa—”

Hongjoong smiles, stopping Seonghwa in his tracks. “You’ll do as I say.”

He only nods in response, turning away from Hongjoong. To your relief, he doesn’t lay a glare on you once more, returning to his meal instead.

“San, let’s talk privately for a moment,” Hongjoong rises, beckoning San to follow him. San furrows his brows, but stands anyway, following Hongjoong until they’re out of earshot from your table.

You turn your attention back to Seonghwa. “Let me hear it.”

He drops his spoon again, looking annoyed at the prospect of having to spend anymore time with you. “I need a copy of The Answer to properly explain it.”

“You’re telling me you don’t keep one on yourself at all times?”

Seonghwa blinks at you. Leaning back, he unbuttons his jacket, reaching a hand to the inside pocket. Low and behold, he pulls a copy of The Answer from the interior pocket, gently placing it onto the table between you two.

You had been half joking.

He buttons his jacket again, sliding his tray away from himself. Wordlessly, he picks up the book, flipping to the back pages before landing on whatever page he was searching for. He turns his wrist, showing you the page.

Highlighted in yellow and underlined maybe five times is the title:

HARVEST PRACTICES

The chapter that follows is broken into a few different sections, from what you can see on the pages in view. The first subtitle reads:

INVOCATION AND PROTECTION

“Your hand is shaking too much for me to read that,” you complain, grabbing the book from Seonghwa’s hands. You slide your own tray away, setting the book on the table to read.

The text continues.

Perhaps one of the most strenuous times a year comes during harvest season. Though the crop can be bountiful and the blessings many, there are also dangers that follow. This implicates the necessity to instate a protective guard around our group; a ward to protect ourselves so as to protect our Clones.

On the first day of the harvest, the following ceremony must be conducted to insure safety throughout the season. The steps are outlined here; however HONGJOONG may adapt these provisions as he sees fit per the requirements of the year.

Typical ceremony regalia should be worn by all Followers. Ten Followers are chosen at random to participate in the ceremony.

Participation is mandatory once selected; certain Followers may be required to participate every year due to their given role in Universe One.

At 6 A.M. The ceremony begins. The ten Followers link hands in a circle.

They recite the following incantation, taking three steps to the left following each break.

On this day we make our vow.

The Answer is near; we shall not wonder or fear.

I myself am mighty and true. My blood will protect and provide anew

The barrier is weak.

United, we cast away the evil that would do us harm. We uninvite the spirits that dance between this Universe and the next.

Following the incantation, each member shall raise their hands. The ceremonial blade is presented, and each Follower shall gently open their left palm, letting the blood drop into the center of the circle while reciting:

I offer this vessel of myself for the betterment of the community. My blood banishes the evil from them, and calls it toward me. I swear this today and everyday.

At the completion of each vow, the final words will be said:

We call upon you to stay away.

The Sacrifice will then be presented. It is to be left on the altar for one day.

This is the conclusion of the ceremony.

This ceremony is not infallible. Should trouble arise before, during, or after, HONGJOONG and designated Followers will resolve the issue.

You stop reading, looking up at Seonghwa. “Sacrifice?”

He nods.

“That’s, like, pretty cliche,” you frown, “and that rhyme sucks.”

“Be more respectful.” Seonghwa mirrors your frown, “Hongjoong isn’t a poet, he’s a prophet.”

“Really? I thought he was God?”

Seonghwa only gives you a more exasperated look, rolling his eyes.

You scan over the ceremony again, trying to make sure you’re getting the details correct. “What’s this about ‘calling the evil towards me?’ And the blood? Is that really necessary?”

He glances over your shoulder, a relieved expression gracing his features, “San, you have a knack for perfect timing today.”

You turn to look back and, sure enough, San is approaching your table again.

San looks between you, Seonghwa, and the copy of The Answer in your hands, putting the pieces together. “Questions?”

“A few,” you mutter, suddenly not very interested. You don’t mind pestering Seonghwa for answers to all of your questions, but you aren’t keen on asking San the same way. “But it can wait. What did Hongjoong want?”

San takes his place next to you again, shrugging as he does so. “He was just letting me know the plan for tomorrow.”

Seonghwa reaches for his book, plucking it out of your hands before you can respond to San. “I trust you won’t be needing my copy, anymore.”

Resisting the urge to mock him, you respond to San instead. “Such as…?”

“When to be there, how to help you dress, so on.”

So on… Why does it feel like there’s a lot more emphasis on the ending of that list? They had been gone for a good five minutes, there had to be more than that, surely. Why wouldn’t San tell you the whole truth? What good would that do for him?

You stay quiet, trying to ignore your suspicions. If you can’t trust San, who can you trust?

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

It turns out that you have to wake up significantly more early than usual.

San shakes you awake at four, ignoring your pleas for five more minutes. “I waited as long as I could, (Y/n).”

You grumble and moan, but find it in yourself to get out of bed. For Haseul. That’s what you tell yourself. All of this is for Haseul. Your cooperation is for her. Had she not been here, you’d be kicking and screaming the whole way.

But, unfortunately, Hongjoong figured out how to play you like a damn fiddle. So here you are, tugging on the same black dress pants that you had put on… what, three weeks ago? A month ago? Longer? You have no idea.

You manage to button your shirt correctly this time, though your face burns at the memory of Seonghwa having to help you dress. What had happened to you? You never would have thought that the day would come where you would voluntarily wear this… cult regalia.

San watches, already fully dressed by the time that he woke you up. You have to admit that he looks handsome in all black, the clothes clearly tailored to fit him. Two or three silver necklaces hang down his chest, matching rings gracing his fingers. He hasn’t put his mask on, yet, or his hat, leaving his features exposed in the security of your apartment.

“Let me help,” he offers, squatting to his knees to help you tie your boots as you pull them on. He ties your right shoe as you tie your left, lacing them with the deftness of well-trained hands.

Of course, he finishes before you do. He takes over tying your left shoe, smiling up at you as you yield the laces to him. “Thank you.”

He only pats your knee, standing back up and offering his hand to you. You take it and rise as well, glancing at the clock. 4:29.

The ceremony starts at 6. You’re not really sure why you have to be in positions so early, but… whatever. You’re not going to fight it. You can do this, you’re sure of it. For Haseul, you’ll do it.

San opens the wardrobe, grabbing your two hats off of the top shelf. Had you ever noticed them sitting there? You’re not sure. Maybe someone had brought them in.

He hands you yours, swirling his around on his finger instead of putting it on. “How are you feeling?”

You put the hat on. “Fine.”

“You sure?” He sounds genuine enough, and you don’t doubt that he’s at least a little worried for you. And, obviously, given the circumstances with Haseul…

“I just hope I don’t fuck up.”

San frowns, reaching for your hand. You let him take it.

“Everything will be fine,” he promises, rubbing your hand with his. “It’ll be over before you know it!”

Forcing a smile, you nod. He’s probably right. If you just grit your teeth and bare it, the whole thing will be over as quickly as you can say the stupid little incantation. There’s no reason to be afraid or worried.

… That’s what you really want to believe. But you can’t bring yourself to think that it will actually be that easy. Something is going to happen. Something bad. You’re sure of it, now, in this moment. You’re more sure of it than anything else.

Hongjoong won’t just let this happen. He won’t just let this pan out easily. He has something planned, and you’re sure that it’s something terrible…

The sacrifice mentioned in the steps… you had never had the chance to ask about it. Something is going to happen then, you’re sure. At the moment of the sacrifice or the moment that it’s presented, it’s going to be something beyond even your imagination.

Hongjoong’s insanity knows no bounds, and that is something that you know for a positive fact. He can’t just have something go well or normally when you’re involved. He will have to stick his fingers in the pie, have to meddle to make something happen.

Your stomach flips as you consider the possibilities. You suddenly feel woozy.

“Hey,” San calls your attention back to the moment at hand, grabbing your other arm with his free hand. “Are you alright?”

You blink at him, “Just a little lightheaded is all.”

“Do you want something to eat?” He starts to pull you toward the kitchenette, but the thought of eating only makes your stomach feel heavier.

Planting your feet, you shake your head. “No, no, I’m fine. I just want to get this over with.”

You’re not lying. If something is going to happen (when something is going to happen), you would rather just have it be done and have it be over.

Whatever it is, you’re sure that you can survive it. You’ve made it this far without losing your wits or dying, you’re sure that you can make it through a ten minute ordeal. Even if it is particularly nasty or horrible.

Fuck, you just hope the sacrifice isn’t a person. You’re, like, sixty percent sure that it won’t be, but… that forty percent is still a question mark. At least you know it won’t be you.

That’s probably not the right mindset. But, hey, that’s life, isn’t it?

San looks between you and the clock, looking disappointed. “I guess we don’t really have time, anyhow. I’m sorry.” He apologizes, dropping his hands from you.

You brush off the apology, following him as he leaves the room and approaches your door.

“You’re sure that you’re okay?” San asks again, pausing by your front door. “I can make up some excuse if I have to.”

You don’t have to force a smile, this time. “I’m going to be fine as soon as this is over.”

He nods in acceptance, opening the door and holding it open for you.

The two of you head to the chapel in silence, other Followers wearing their all-black regalia crowding the hallways and stairwells. A few people smile and wave at you, though you can’t really say that you recognize them.

As you squeeze through the halls, you wonder where Haseul is being kept. In one of the single rooms, you’re sure, but which one…

You almost have the urge to start knocking on every door on the women’s floor, jangle each doorknob and greet each person until you find her…

But that would be silly, and you know that. You’d only be punished if you went looking for her. Worse, she would probably be punished for your stupidity, too.

That’s not going to happen.

So you fight the feeling, just as you fought your panic. Your stomach is still a wreck as you follow San. You don’t hold his hand, not in public, but you wish that you could grab him for some semblance of comfort.

He would take your hand if you tried, you realize. Clearly, he doesn’t have much of an issue speaking about your relationship, at least with Mingi.

The memory of their argument brings a sour expression to your face. You’re still not very pleased with how San had acted, or with how Mingi had, either. Even after the apology…

And San never confirmed that he apologized to Mingi. Well, you had never asked him.

But whatever. That has to be a problem for another day, for another you. Or at least for the you of three hours from now. You can’t go into this being pissed at basically the only two people that you like here.

That doesn’t give much credit to Nayeon or Yunho or Wooyoung or Yeosang, you realize, but whatever. You don’t need to be debating who your friends are and who your friends aren’t.

After what happened with Wooyoung, anyways, would you really consider him a friend? Had you really processed any of what he had told you? What the fuck.

Your head swims with the reality of everything that has been happening to you in the past couple days. You’ve experienced enough goddamn trauma to let Dr. Phil run another 12 seasons on you alone. Fucking hell. Literally what the fuck.

You finally reach the big doors, relishing the feeling of stepping into the cool outside air. The hallways had been stuffy with the weight of all of the Followers, and the sudden breeze is refreshing; especially given your fucking outfit.

The sun hasn’t even poked above the horizon, yet. You wouldn’t even call it dawn. But you don’t have to squint to make out the chapel in this distance.

The sea of Followers in front of you lead the way to the holy place, a swarm of black across the farm.

You wonder how many of them there really are. If Hongjoong said that everyone had to attend this ceremony… fuck. There’s a lot of people. Just the people you can see outside seem to outnumber what you would have originally thought.

How in the world had Hongjoong recruited so many people?

How many of these people actually believed every word that he said? You’d have to assume most of them. What would they do to make him happy? To keep him happy?

The thought sends an unwelcome shiver down your spine, only making your stomach worse.

The walk isn’t long, and you soon find yourself passing the doors that are being held open by the swarm of people crowding through them.

It’s fuller than you’ve ever seen it, the chapel. Some people are already seated in the pews, chatting with their peers. The majority of the Followers, however, are still standing, mingling in the aisle.

You follow San’s lead, presuming that he’ll take you wherever you need to be. He goes about halfway to the front of the chapel, stopping in a less-populated area of the aisle in what you assume is an attempt to make you calmer. You’re not sure that it helps, but you appreciate the gesture, anyhow.

You wonder who the other Followers that were chosen for the ceremony are. Will anyone that you know be up there to comfort you? It probably wouldn’t make a difference, but at least one familiar face would be welcome.

As you glance around the room, you find your eyes tugging toward the Sign of the Answer, the huge one on the wall. Hongjoong’s chair is gone in preparation for the ceremony, so you’re able to see it in all of its glory. Per usual, the chapel is lit by candles, and the light glints off of the Sign exactly how you remember it looking the night that you had been Chosen. The memory makes you more nervous.

San puts a hand on your arm, calling your attention back to him. You glance at his face first, only to see him looking ahead as someone approaches. For a split second, you’re worried that its going to be Mingi.

But it’s only Wooyoung, you realize.

He stops in front of you, two glasses in his hands. “Hello,” he greets you, looking between the two of you.

San returns the hello, but you can’t bring yourself to respond. Something about the sight of him disturbs you. And the glasses in his hands.

He gets straight to business.

“Drink this,” Wooyoung holds out a champagne glass filled with something that is decidedly not champagne. Instead of sparkling, yellow liquid, this is a flat, blood red.

You hesitantly take the stem, tilting the glass to watch the liquid move. Thankfully, it doesn’t actually seem to be blood. You take a sniff, not all that surprised to smell the familiar red wine scent.

“It’s just wine. For the nerves.”

Shrugging, you take a sip. He’s not lying, but… “Last time you fed me in this room you also drugged me.”

Wooyoung mirrors your shrug. “Don’t drink it then.”

You glance at San, who also shrugs.

“Well fuck it, then.” In an action reminiscent of your college days, you down the glass; ignoring the bitterness as best you can.

Wooyoung takes the glass back from you. “Good luck, then.”

He excuses himself, wandering back into the crowd with the other glass. You assume that he’s handing them out to all of the participating Followers, but you opt to stop watching him to look back at San.

“Do you think that was drugged?” You ask San, rubbing your palms on your jacket.

His eyes go wide, “I wouldn’t have let you drink it if I thought it was!”

“I’m not sure I trust Hongjoong that much.”

“I do.” San puts a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it gently. His words don’t offer you any comfort, but the hand is pleasant enough.

Well, you’ll know soon enough, anyhow. Maybe this would all go a lot more smoothly if you were drugged, somehow. Your heart feels like a damn jackhammer in your chest.

You try to look around, wanting to spot any familiar face in the crowd for any sense of comfort. It’s just so damn hard with everyone dressed like the fucking grim reaper. You think that you spot Nayeon, briefly, her long brown hair contrasting beautifully to the fitted black of her coat.

Yunho is hard to miss, his height only exaggerated by the hat atop his head. You’re not entirely sure where you stand with him, though, given your place with Mingi. If Mingi’s still pissed at you (which, to give him credit, you’re not sure if he is), Yunho probably is too.

Speaking of Mingi, he approaches Yunho, his own height rather hard to miss in the crowd. He grabs his friend’s shoulder, exclaiming something that’s a bit too quiet for you to make out. But you know Mingi’s voice when you hear it.

After this, you have to talk to Mingi. Even though you might be a little… upset? Disappointed? At his outburst and his childish behavior, you have to make things right by him. Yunho, too, you suppose.

You still hold out hope that Haseul will make an appearance, though you’re sure Hongjoong made arrangements to keep her away. Though… if Mingi is here, who's watching her? It probably wouldn’t be hard to find someone else, but someone else that Hongjoong trusted that much… that’s a different story. You know that you should probably just drop it, but there’s something in you that feels like she’ll show up… you certainly have a lot of feelings, this morning.

A hand wraps around your elbow, startling you. You don’t have to look to recognize Hongjoong, his touch alone enough to identify him, burning hot even through your jacket.

“(Y/n),” he purrs, holding you close to him, “how are you feeling?”

You try to pull your arm away, to no avail. “Like I’m going to be sick.”

Hongjoong laughs, “you’ll be completely fine. You’re not the sacrifice.”

That doesn’t do anything to calm your nerves. That’s not what you’re worried about. And you’d rather not have to play one of his stupid games. “I have a sense that some anvil is about to fall on my head.”

“Hmmm,” he hums, “maybe. Maybe not. It depends on what you’re picturing.”

“I’m picturing what you wrote in The Answer.” You force the words out through gritted teeth. It’s so fucking annoying when he does this; when he doesn’t just speak his mind. You’d much prefer him telling you that, yeah, you’re about to be grievously harmed than have him just dangle the thought in front of your eyes.

“Well, either way, I’m sure you understand what will happen if you disrupt the ceremony.” Hongjoong’s voice is laced with that sickening smile of his, “or if you fail to complete your part in it.”

He’s right, he doesn’t need to remind you in the slightest. You can only imagine the fear that Haseul is in right now, but your own fear for her must be ten times worse. The idea of Hongjoong putting his hands on her makes your gut churn.

The fact that he backed you into such a perfect corner is almost sickening. It pisses you off to no end. Why did he have to bring her into this? Not that you would want him to use this treatment on Mingi, but, like, fuck, he at least already had him here. Was it really necessary to involve a completely innocent girl?

If you didn’t care what happened to her, you might just spit in the man’s face at this very second.

“I get it, Hongjoong.”

“Then you’ll do great!” He releases your arm, opting to pat your shoulder a couple times. “Simply stick to the outline. Do your part. And it’ll be over quickly.”

You take a deep breath, “Hongjoong,” you hope that saying his name will make him listen to you, “can I see her, afterword?”

His hand stops on your shoulder, squeezing. “Let’s see how you fare, first.” His voice seems harder with these words, more sharp. Hopefully that wasn’t some sort of huge overstep to him.

He cuts off the conversation at that, leaving your side to rejoin the crowd of Followers. He’s wearing the same outfit he had been wearing yesterday, the shiny material catching the light of the candles ever so as he moves.

“San,” you turn toward where San was standing, only to find him gone. You whirl around in a circle in a way that must look comical, searching for where he could have gone off to. He doesn’t appear to be in your near vicinity, somehow completely, wordlessly disappeared.

Dread swirls in your stomach. You were going to ask him if he knew what the sacrifice was going to be, finally reminded.

As if commanded by some outside force, the majority of the Followers suddenly stop their conversations. The room falls silent as people make their ways to their usual pews, sliding silently into their seats.

Per usual, you’ve been left out of the loop.

Without San to guide you into place, you really have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing. You look toward the front of the chapel, expecting to find Hongjoong glaring at you, but not even he is there to tell you what to do.

Looking around to the other Followers that are still standing, you’re mildly surprised to see Yunho only a couple feet away. He catches your eye, tipping his head toward the front of the room in signal. He starts walking, so you start walking.

You’re hyper aware of the sound of your footsteps on the wood floors, your boots clicking with each step. Yunho’s do, too. The steps are the only sound in the chapel.

With bated breath, you reach the front of the room. You glance toward your usual pew, hoping to see San sitting in your spot. He’s not, however, only making the rock in your stomach that much heavier.

Yunho steps up onto the little stage, offering you his hand to help with the step up. You take it, joining him and turning toward the congregation of Followers. From this angle, you can see… it takes you a second to count the heads… eight other Followers approaching the stage. You try to find Hongjoong among them, but he’s not there. Neither is San.

After what feels like forever, Yunho and yourself are joined by the others. You read this part, you feel okay about it. Well, not okay okay, but, like, you know. At least you know what to expect.

Yunho grabs your left hand, as someone you can’t recall the name of takes the place to your right; taking that hand into theirs.

The ten of you link into a circle, hand-in-hand.

You had kind of expected there to be more guidance from Hongjoong in this process. A narration or a sort of sermon over the top of your actions, but Hongjoong remains unseen and unheard as the Followers around you start their recitation.

“On this day we make our vow,” you don’t jump into the speech until the next sentence, unsure of how they knew that it was time to start. “From henceforth we pledge ourselves.”

You take three steps to your left. The Sign of the Answer twinkles in your peripheral vision. The Followers in the pews have their heads bowed.

“The Answer is near. We shall not wonder or fear.”

Three more steps.

“I myself am mighty and true. My blood will protect and provide anew.”

Three more steps to the left. This time, you almost step on Yunho’s toes. You try to look at the other Followers in your circle, but their heads are similarly bowed. You look back down at your feet. You’re lightheaded.

“The barrier is weak.”

Your hands float upwards, along with the rest of the circle’s. Still connected, everyone’s hands hang in the air of the center of the circle.

“United, we cast away the evil that would do us harm. We uninvite the spirits that dance between this Universe and the next.”

Someone, you’re not sure who, breaks the circle first. Your eyes are closed, you realize. You open them only when Yunho’s hand leaves your own; barely hearing his hushed whispering at your side. Before you know it, the knife is in your own hands.

It’s already sparkling with blood. At least Yunho’s. The lowlight makes it hard to see, but the Sign of the Answer does a beautiful job of illuminating just enough to reawaken your nausea. What the fuck is happening, right now? What the fuck are you about to do?

Yunho’s blood drips down the blade and onto your hand. It’s warm.

You’re sure that you’re going to faint.

But you hold the blade to your left hand, anyways, saying the words as quietly as you can. Surely, this is all just some batshit insane cult ceremony, but the weight of speaking them outloud is still sickening.

“I offer this vessel of myself for the betterment of the community. My blood banishes the evil from them, and calls it toward me. I swear this today and everyday.”

You swipe the blade across your palm, handing it off to the Follower next to you as fast as you can manage. You close your eyes again. Your hand burns. You almost think that you can hear your blood, dropping from your palm and hitting the floor.

At some point, the last person finishes. The knife clatters to the floor, the only sound in the chapel. You know to take three more steps to the left. And to finish the words.

“We call upon you to stay away.”

The scream makes you open your eyes.

Disorientated, you realize that you’re facing away from the crowd, staring directly at the Sign. But it’s not glowing anymore.

You turn around, blinded. Every candle in the chapel has gone out.

Was that the source of the scream? The lights going out? What the fuc—

The door behind the stage slams open. You jump again, spinning back as though you’d be able to see anything, anyhow.

Someone in the audience wails.

Are they seeing something that you’re not? Your heart pounds hard, so so hard. Is this panic? The spell? A heart attack?

You need to sit down. Yunho grabs your hand before you can stumble off of the stage. He pulls you behind him, keeping the arm behind his back to hold you there.

You fist the back of his coat, probably soiling the material with your blood, but it’s all you can do to keep yourself standing upright. The urge to vomit hits you again, but you prevail, closing your eyes as tight as you can.

Is this supposed to happen? This wasn’t in the outline. Are you meant to feel like such shit right now?

How did all of the candles go out?

Who the fuck is interrupting?

Something, or someone, drops in the middle of the circle.

You open your eyes again, peering around Yunho. The rest of the circle had stayed in place.

At the center of your circle, now, is a head.

Not a human head, thank God, but a pig’s. Your stomach still revolts, still tumbling over and over itself as you slide back into your spot in the circle. You clamp onto Yunho’s hand like its the only thing that you’ve ever known, grounding yourself the only way that you can.

Its still so dark. You close your eyes again

You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do now. Is it over? You hope to God that its over. You can’t take another goddamned minute of thi—

You open your eyes at the same instant that Yunho yells. Everything happens so fucking fast.

Yunho falls backward, off of the stage. You process this secondly. Chiefly, however, your attention is caught by the figure now in front of you, where the pig head had been seconds before.

It’s huge. You can’t comprehend it entirely, what it is that you’re seeing. It doesn’t even look human. It grabs your now vacant hand, pulling you away from the Followers.

There’s a collective scream behind you, and you’re not surprised to realize that you’re also screaming.

You try to look into the face. But it doesn’t have a face. It’s nothing. Is this death?

You’re falling backwards, now. Before you know it, you’re on the ground, curling in on yourself.

Someone turns the overhead lights on. You cradle your hands to your chest, aware of the fact that you’re crying. The tears are hot on your cheeks. The blood is hot on your hands. The feeling of that, that, fucking thing making you want to retch.

What the fuck was that? What the fuck?

Hongjoong appears at your side, his face blurry. From your tears, from the panic? You’re not sure.

He asks if you’re okay. You can’t answer him. You close your eyes again.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

In your sleep, you see it again.

Even in this instance, you can’t tell what it is. It’s shaped like a person, but you can’t look directly at it. You know that if you look, it won’t have a face.

In your dream, it’s even bigger than it was. It towers over you, grabbing you over and over, your screaming and begging doing nothing to appease it.

You can see its hands as they reach, as they latch onto you. They’re white. But they’re not skin. It’s cloth, you realize, gloves.

The rest of it is white, too. But it certainly doesn’t look like clothing. You couldn’t ever explain it to someone if they asked, and you’re much too terrified to go digging into the details.

All you know is that it doesn’t have a face. It’s not natural. Every part of you hates every part of this thing.

You want to wake up.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

And so you do, in the infirmary.

The first thing you see are the familiar ceiling tiles. The second thing is Hongjoong.

You startle awake, twitching in on yourself as you try to sit up.

Hongjoong sucks in a breath, though he doesn’t get to his feet to help you. He’s still wearing that outfit.

You’re still wearing yours, you realize. The pants rub uncomfortably against the blanket laying over you. You’re able to sit up easily enough, and you’re relieved to realize that nothing hurts. You feel fine.

“So, do you believe me now?” Hongjoong asks once you’re up, but he’s not smiling in triumph as you would’ve imagined.

“What the fuck was that thing?”

Hongjoong sighs, “Exactly what I was trying to protect us from. A guardian.”

You blink at him, dumbfounded. There’s literally no fucking way in hell that Hongjoong has been right about any of this. He’s insane. He is fully, entirely, batshit insane.

You can’t explain away whatever the fuck just happened, but you’re not about to accept that he’s been telling you the truth. That there are alternate universes and demons that can jump between them. That’s not real life. That’s not how the world works.

Whatever just happened, whatever that was, there’s a reasonable explanation. Surely.

Though you can’t imagine what that explanation would be, it must exist. The last fucking thing in the world that you’re going to do now is believe in Hongjoong. Like, what the fuck? What the fuck? Why would you fucking believe in a fucking religion that has fucking faceless demons fucking running around freely? You wouldn’t. You refuse. You will not.

Even if that is the only explanation for the thing in white, you are not going to believe it. You would sooner believe that you have a hallucination disorder than accept that Hongjoong is right about anything.

Thinking about it, you probably would have to have some sort of psychosis to accept any of this. But, then again, this is exactly the sort of thing that would trigger psychosis…

You’re thinking way too fucking hard about this. It is simple. Hongjoong is a freak.

“Where’s San?” The question is natural.

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, “Interesting follow-up question. I thought it best to separate you two for now.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he stands up. “How is your hand?”

You had honestly forgotten about it. Holding it up, you examine your bandage. “Fine.”

The two of you stay in silence. Hongjoong seems mad.

“Is that really all you’re going to ask?” He asks, almost sounding whiny. Like a child.

It’s certainly all you’re going to ask him. He’ll only lie to you. “Can I see Seonghwa?” You ask instead.

Hongjoong scoffs. He brushes his hair back, looking around the room as if he’s expecting some live studio audience to empathize with him. “I know you’re not fucking him.”

You shrug. “Are you okay, Hongjoong?”

His face falls flat. He crosses his arms over his chest, turning to fully face you again. “I’m great.” The words are strained. You’ve never known Hongjoong to be a bad liar.

“You seem kinda pissed.”

“I am not—” He closes his eyes, bringing a hand up to his forehead. “I’m fine. I’ll have Seonghwa come visit, since you clearly won’t be speaking to me.” He says this like he expects you to apologize. But what the hell would you apologize for?

Hongjoong leaves without another word once it becomes clear that you won’t be giving him what he wants. You’re sure that he expected more crying, more fear, more begging and pleading for answers.

You save that for once you’re sure that he’s gone.

Trembling, you pull your knees to your chest. Your fingers twitch with fear, your hair feels foreignly heavy, your wrist burns and burns where the thing had touched you.

You refuse to believe that it was real. It cannot be real. None of this can be real. There was some trick, some show, some plan that you weren’t privy to. Seonghwa will tell you. He’ll have to tell you. He’s honest, most of the time. He’ll explain it away, he’ll tell you how Hongjoong did it and why it seemed so real.

Where was its face?

How had they done that? Where the fact should have been, there was nothing. You couldn’t even say that it was a color. It was a void. An emptiness. There was nothing there.

The memory makes you dizzy. You lean back against the pillows, praying to God that you’re not going insane. Had you really seen that? You couldn’t have. Because that’s just not something that’s possible.

If Seonghwa can’t explain this, you might go crazy. You might. What else is there to do? It wasn’t real. But the fear that you’re feeling now certainly is.

What if it comes back? What if they make it come back? What was it? Where was its face?

Even though whatever the fuck that was wasn’t real, the memory certainly is. You’re going to be lucky to sleep soundly one night for the rest of your damn life. What the fuck.

Seonghwa lets himself into the room only a few minutes after Hongjoong had left.

“You like me so much that you ask for me now?” He smirks, approaching your side.

His face falls flat when he takes a good look at you. “Stop that. Why are you crying?”

“Seonghwa.” You feel that it’s quite obvious why you’re crying.

He only blinks at you.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice shakes with the question.

“I—” He starts, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “Its complicated.”

You cover your face with your hands. “Was it real? Just be honest.”

You can’t see his reaction to your question, and he doesn’t answer it, either.

“What was it?” You moan, hardly able to even spit the words out. To basically admit to Seonghwa that you were scared.

“I think it would be better if you talked to Hongjoo—”

“I am not talking to Hongjoong!”

You take your hands away from your face, needing to look at him. You hate him. You hate him more than fucking anything. Why can’t he just be honest? Why is he Hongjoong’s little fucking doll? Why does he worship him to such a degree when he’s this fucking evil? Where would he draw the line?

Seonghwa is stunned into silence. He only stares down at you.

“All I can say is that I didn’t know it was going to happen.”

He looks blurry through your tears, only making you angrier as you recall Hongjoong looking the same way.

“Stop bullshitting me, please, Seonghwa,” you beg. “I think I’ll go insane if you don’t fucking answer me.”

He turns away from your bed, striding to one of the medicine cabinets in an attempt to look anywhere but your face. He rakes a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead momentarily.

“What do you want to hear?” He asks, turning back toward you, though he keeps his distance. “Would you rather know what Hongjoong is capable of or would you rather keep the comforting thought that he’s right? Wouldn’t that just be easier for everybody?”

“You’re saying that Hongjoong can do things scarier than the thought of fucking interdimensional demons being real?” You throw your hands out in front of you, almost yelling in frustration.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! Yes!” Seonghwa matches your tone. “He’s only going to come at you harder. He exists to make you break! Just fucking accept the truth for what he says that it is, and everything will come easily!”

“I’m not going to do that!”

Seonghwa laughs bitterly. “I’m sure you believe that, too, Princess.”

You stare back at him, sure that you look insane. “Can you be genuine for one fucking second?”

His face contorts into a scowl. “I’ve never been anything but genuine with you. You’re the one that deludes yourself.” He strides back to the door, freezing in the frame. “Is there anything else you wish to fling at me?”

“I’m taking this to mean that it wasn’t real.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.”

Seonghwa leaves.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Can you bear some girl time? You’re not sure as Nayeon lets herself in, walking casually into the room as if the literal antichrist of her religion didn’t just make a physical appearance before her.

“How are we feeling?” She asks, dragging out the vowel sounds in her question.

“Uhm,” you look at your hand, the only injured part of your body, “fine, I guess.”

“Perfect!” She smiles, reaching out to put her hand under yours. “The bandage looks fine. I don’t think it’ll reopen.”

Nayeon had found time to change her clothes. She’s back to her usual farm girl outfit, smiling and happy.

“Are you alright, Nayeon?” You ask, curious to know what a regular Follower made of what the fuck happened.

She frowns, and then shrugs, and then smiles again. “I mean, it was, like, a bit scary. But Hongjoong made it go away, and he’s always with us, so it’s not like it can come back to hurt us. I was definitely scared at first, but then he showed up and I knew it would be okay.”

“Uh-huh,” you nod, slowly. Nayeon has always been a valuable source of information for you.

“It was just so valiant; do you remember how he saved you?” She giggles, “he still has it going for you. It’s amazing.”

You shake your head. “I can’t say that I remember much…” Other than the fucking maw of emptiness.

“Oh, well I got you.” She pulls up one of her rolling stools, sitting herself down right next to your bed. “So the ceremony went great. Textbook, really. But as it was finishing… I guess I’m not really sure how it happened, either. Like, one second everything was fine, and the next Yunho was on the ground— he’s fine, by the way; wind knocked out of him, but yeah, anyways— and the Guardian was there and everyone was screaming, it was so scary. I guess it grabbed you… and then Hongjoong appeared and it was like his presence just scared it away. I didn’t see what happened exactly… but the next thing I knew you were on the ground and Hongjoong was hollering for my help.”

She shrugs.

What you gather from that is that she didn’t see how it got there or how it left. Good signs, probably. She’d certainly remember seeing something… appear out of thin air. You almost want to smile. What a silly thought, that that could have all been real… haha… ha… yeah, funny…

“I see…” You respond, not sure what you’re supposed to say, “how much time has passed?”

Nayeon looks at her watch, “like, three hours.”

Great. Perfect, actually. It would be very unfortunate to find out that you had been unconscious for a week again, especially given the circumstances with Haseul. She’s probably already freaking out, but not hearing anything from you for a week…

Is Hongjoong going to let you see her? After your brush with death? It wasn’t your fault that… whatever happened happened. Like, he planned that, not you. Surely he can’t hold this over your head. If anything, you basically almost just got kidnapped into a parallel universe, he should be treating you very kindly, right?

Asshole. He’s probably going to bitch and moan for the next week about you not being scared of him. Fucking asshat.

But… God, ugh, this is all so frustrating. On one hand, you’re pissed at him for, you don’t know, literally everything that he’s ever done to you, maybe? But on the other, you know that you’re going to have to play by his rules to get him to leave Haseul alone. Or, well, at least as alone as he can.

When is she going to have a Choosing ceremony, you wonder? Yours didn’t take very long…

Well, if he doesn’t let you see her after this, at least you have that to… tentatively look forward to… ew, you don’t even want to be thinking like that.

Nayeon stands at your side, bringing you back.

You don’t realize why until you look behind her, only to spot Yunho standing near the doorway.

He’s changed out of his clothes, thankfully. But just seeing him is enough to flood your mind with the thought of the thing, your stomach lurching over again as he welcomes himself into the room, clearing his throat.

Nayeon pats his shoulder as she walks past him, excusing herself. Yunho stops at the foot of your bed.

You have to admit that he might be one of the last people you would have expected to visit you, now. You had been thinking it before everything happened, but you don’t really think he has any lost love for you, given your circumstances with Mingi.

“Thank you,” you break the silence, forcing the words out before you can think better of them, “for, uhm, trying to help me. And, I mean, actually helping me, too.” You can’t forget that he had kept you standing when the sacrifice was presented. How ruined is his coat?

He awkwardly looks at his hands, which are gripping the rail at the end of your bed. “Don’t mention it.” His voice is so meager that you barely can hear him.

Yunho doesn’t look up. You’re not sure what else to say. So you speak without thinking, again. “How’s Mingi?”

He peeks up at you, but then goes right back to staring down. “He’s… uhm, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

He pries his hands off of the rail, but then stares at them like he’s unsure that they’re even his hands. Tucking his hands behind his back, he continues, though he still doesn’t look straight at you, “I, uhm, yeah. Mingi is worried about you, and I think his worry came off the wrong way to you and San.”

“Uh-huh,” you nod, slowly, and semi-sarcastically. You could’ve guessed that. “He has an interesting way of showing it.”

Yunho takes a deep breath, “He doesn’t know that I’m here. I just thought that I would try and explain his side of things. From his perspective, he is the reason that you’re here and he feels guilty for that; but he’s also pissed that you’ve gotten close with San so quickly, because he doesn’t like him and he feels like you won’t take his concerns seriously.”

“I don’t see what there is to be concerned about,” you plainly state, “do you have something against San, Yunho? Any reason at all to believe that Mingi could have reason to suspect that he’s not what he shows me?”

Yunho startles when you say his name, like someone barely inhabiting their own body. “I mean, no. I think Mingi is probably just projecting his fear onto San, but don’t tell him I said that.”

“Exactly. So why should I have to cater to Mingi’s ego?” The words sound harsh even as you say them, but its a genuine question. You don’t have much reason to believe that San would ever do anything to hurt you… besides him being someone that Hongjoong clearly trusts, but, like, you’ve been over that a million times before.

Yunho just shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought that maybe you would hear me out, since I know it’s hard for you to be alone with Mingi.” He stops his nervous fidgeting, finally looking directly at you. “I wasn’t nice to you because I harbor any sweetness towards you, for the record. I don’t even care that you’re the new object of Hongjoong’s affection. I only tried to help because I knew that, if I didn’t, Mingi would have.” His voice is harder than you’ve ever heard it; a shocking contrast to how he had been speaking just moments earlier. He maintains eye contact with you, his eyes dark.

You’re the one to look away, this time, disturbed by what he said. What a very random and slightly disturbing thing to say.

When you look back up at him, Yunho is already nervously looking around the room. His hands are in front of him again as he plays with his fingers.

“Well,” you clear your throat, “thanks anyways, Yunho.”

“Yep,” is all he says before leaving your room, basically running.

… That was strange. Very strange.

Nayeon doesn’t return. You’re left alone, puzzling over that entire interaction.

What… what was the point of that? Like, okay, sure you can get him wanting to try and vouch for Mingi. But… uhm??? The last part? What? Why was that so ominous? Huh?

You had never known Yunho to be particularly timid… or… rude… This all is just very weird. Maybe even weirder than the fake demon situation.

No, scratch that, definitely not any weirder than that. That one is gonna keep you awake for a while. A good while. But Yunho’s behavior was definitely not his usual, which is almost concerning. Almost… only because you suppose that you don’t really know him that well. Maybe he’s only really nice and outgoing to strangers…

That wouldn’t make sense, either.

Whatever, you really can’t be worrying about that right now. You have priorities.

Priorities of which you would list, at least in your head, if San didn’t come barreling through the door the next moment.

You startle, shocked by his sudden appearance. He’s changed, but he doesn’t look great. His hair is a mess, his lip is split, his shirt is untucked in places.

He reaches out for you, and you reach him halfway, grabbing his forearms as he grabs yours. Wordlessly, he looks over your face hastily, pressing his lips to yours before you can ask what happened.

Your lips part, and he puts his forehead on yours. “We need to get out of here. As soon as possible.”

← previous || next → || masterlist

#ateez angst #ateez series #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #park seonghwa x reader #jeong yunho x reader #kang yeosang x reader #choi san x reader #song mingi x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #choi jongho x reader #the answer #update

309 notes · View notes

clusterbuck · 7 months

Note

In an effort to keep your brain going I'm sending you the prompt "kissing your lover’s forehead, then bending down to meet their lips" <3

@rewritetheending (and @sibylsleaves and @captain-hen and @buckactuallys !) tagged me for fuck it friday so fuck it, here we go ! i was contemplating keeping this for something longer but i think i like it like this actually

The question seems to come out of nowhere, but Eddie knows Buck well enough to know he’s probably been turning it over in his mind for a while now.

“Do you ever miss Texas?”

Eddie, laying half draped across Buck’s chest, hums. “Yeah.”

“That was quick,” Buck says.

“Easy question,” Eddie replies, moving a shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. “It’s my—it’s where I’m from. I’m always going to miss it.”

“Huh,” Buck says. “I don’t miss Pennsylvania.” Then, softer, “Tell me about Texas.”

“What do you want to know?” Eddie asks, tracing the outlines of Buck’s tattoos with his fingertips.

“Tell me what you miss about it?” It comes out as a question, a little hesitant and unsure.

“Man, there’s nothing like a Texas sunrise,” Eddie says, wistful. It’s been far too long since he’s seen one. “Not in the city, really, but my uncle had a ranch where we’d spend a lot of our summers. We’d stay up all night, sometimes, just to see the sun come up again.

“I don’t know,” he says, humming a soft noise into the skin above Buck’s ribs. “There’s a way it feels when you’re out in the fields on a hot summer night. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“I think the kids would call it a vibe,” Buck says.

Eddie snorts, then considers. “You know what? Yeah, it’s a vibe.”

“The Texas vibe,” Buck muses.

“And—I guess I miss being around my family,” Eddie says slowly. “I didn’t always see eye to eye with them, but it was still nice to have them all around. And not just my parents—my sisters, cousins, my abuela…”

Buck’s quiet for a moment, then asks, “Would you ever want to go back?”

“To Texas?” Eddie asks, then realises what Buck is really asking. He scrambles to shift, turning until he’s propping himself up on Buck’s chest and can look Buck in the eye. “If you’re asking whether I want to move back to Texas, the answer is no.”

“But you just said—”

“I know what I said,” Eddie says. “And I am always going to miss it. But that doesn’t mean I want to move back.” He shuffles up a little, runs a thumb along Buck’s cheekbone. “My life is here now. Our life is here.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Eddie says, then grins. “We could go visit, though. Maybe go out to my uncle’s ranch. I bet you’d look good in a pair of Wranglers and a cowboy hat.”

Buck doesn’t smile. “I just don’t want you to feel like I’m making you stay here.”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “You’re not. Look, if I actually wanted to move back, I promise I would bring it up, okay? But I don’t. El Paso is where I’m from, but LA is my home. It’s Christopher’s home. It’s our home.”

“If you’re sure,” Buck mumbles, but he doesn’t quite sound convinced.

“Buck,” Eddie says again, gentle but firm. “Sweetheart. I’m sure.” When Buck doesn’t meet his eyes, Eddie reaches up to press his lips first to Buck’s forehead, then his cheek, then feather-soft against Buck’s lips. Buck holds out for only a second, then opens his mouth to let Eddie in, one hand snaking into Eddie’s hair and the other resting just below his ribcage.

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs, mouth still resting against Buck’s. He thinks maybe if Buck feels the words, it’ll be easier for him to believe them. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He can feel Buck’s lips finally spread into a smile. “I love you,” Buck says, and then a glint appears in his eye. “So, Wranglers and a cowboy hat, huh?”

Heat floods Eddie’s cheeks, but he grins. “I said what I said.”

send me a kiss prompt 🫦

#911fic #buddie #buddie fic #emma writes #ask emma #leothil

267 notes · View notes

zeta-in-de-walls · 2 years

Text

TommyInnit Times article

Hey, so Tommy apparently did an Interview for the Times. I’m copy and pasting the whole Times article for those who can’t access it. It’s a nice read. Enjoy!

If you’ve never heard of Tom Simons — aka TommyInnit — your children most definitely have. The 18-year-old gamer from Nottingham is one of the world’s most successful online streamers, with 40 million followers across all social platforms hanging on his every (loud) word and anarchic in-joke. You know, the kind of shouty Minecraft-related banter that tweens and teens find hilarious but leaves their parents baffled.

There’s no doubt he’s a master of his craft, with Guinness world records for most viewers of a Minecraft livestream on Twitch, the gamers’ platform, and most followed Minecraft channel. His net worth is estimated to be $10 million. His live show in July at the Brighton Dome sold out within 24 hours and he had a book published this week. Not many gamers make that crossover, or have their first interview in The Times come to that.

Simons must be one of the richest self-made 18-year-olds in the country and has a running joke with his subscribers that he’s a billionaire. (It’s presumably a joke, but he won’t be drawn.) “It’s cool I’m set up for life, but it doesn’t feel relevant to who I am. I don’t spend very much,” he says. “It hasn’t changed how pissed off I was when they upped the cost of the bus fare by 10p to £1.30.” He seems to mean it. This summer he visited fellow YouTube millionaires in their mansions and on private jets in LA, but he’s content living in the two-bedroom flat in Brighton he bought from his landlord, and his mum still orders him a Tesco shop occasionally.

He’s definitely got one over on the kids at his secondary school in Nottingham who made fun of him after they discovered Channelnutpig, the first gaming channel he set up on YouTube aged 11. He was mortified and took it down immediately. “You want to fit in and make friends, and in year 7 you’re beginning to understand that girls exist,” he says. “So it wasn’t that cool shouting, ‘Hello everyone, it’s me, Tom!’ on my channel every week and have people play that back in front of you.”

Two years later he migrated to Twitch, again streaming Minecraft videos and filming banter with his online friends, and at 14 began the TommyInnit YouTube channel that now has 11.8 million subscribers. This time he kept it secret. “Every time we’d be in a science lesson and they’d show an educational video my eyes would be glued to the ‘recommended’ on YouTube in case I popped up and people found out. I kept that secret for so long. I had 100,000 subscribers when people started finding out. “When I got to 100,000 there was this weird new respect everyone had for me. I’d walk through the hallway and they would still glare at me, but no one would shove me. It was like I had a force field around me. It was so strange. I remember a week before someone getting me in a headlock and shoving me around. I thought, ‘Wow, I’ve levelled up!’ ”

Was he bullied at school? He pauses. “Just normal arseholes, not anything more than anyone else. I was quite quiet. I just teetered on the edge of being funny enough that people wouldn’t beat me up. If someone was shoving me around I’d just make jokes and they’d leave me alone. But also funny enough that no one thought I was cool. At all. Which is the exact place I’m in now really.”

Simons is more quiet, thoughtful and endearing in person than he is on his channels or in the book, a collection of silly quotes and zany ramblings. He’s a self-confessed nerd (“My dad and I are massive nerds”) and says that his audience are mostly “the people I would hang out with at school, who were awkward like me”. He adds, “I’m quite anxious in real life, but I’ve always been very social on the internet. If you message someone and they ignore you, who cares? It’s not real life.”

He believes that most of his fans are aged between 14 and 20, but he knows that a lot of younger kids tune in for the Minecraft banter (or possibly the swearing). A year ago he started a YouTube channel under his own name to make real-life videos that now has 5.6 million followers. It’s free to subscribe — his earnings come from the advertising. He recently spent a month in New York vlogging his daily antics, such as I’m literally Spider-Man, in which he dressed up as the superhero, and Making 100 Friends in 1 Day.

Why does he think he’s so successful when there are others creating content along the same lines? He’s perceptive in his answer. “I think it’s the loud funniness — me having fun with my friends. But there’s also this element of warmness. It’s welcoming and safe,” he says. “It’s never toxic or preying on other people. Nothing is at the expense of anyone else. It’s better for the world not to say the easy, rude joke or the put-downs. There’s so much of that on YouTube.”

He says that his parents have always been supportive. His dad, Iain, was in the gaming industry, owning an arcade in Nottingham before setting up the GameCity festival. He now works with his son.

Simons’s mum, Sarah, is an actor-turned-English teacher for adults with disabilities who set up the further education group, UKFEchat on Twitter. “She was on Twitter long before I was,” he says. “Now she has a cool internet personality advising people how to keep safe online.”

She was less cool, he admits, when his GCSEs were approaching in 2020. “She sat me down and said, ‘Right, you have 100,000 subscribers and that’s really good, but you need to take school seriously. I know you’re not revising and your grades are dropping.’ She was right — I was getting grade 3s in science. Then that week we went into a global pandemic and I didn’t do a minute of revision as the exams were cancelled.” He ended up with a very respectable collection of GCSEs, including a 9 (the top grade) in English language. “It was the perfect amount of ‘mum points’ I needed to spend the [lockdowns] in my bedroom making videos.”

He then went to college to study for a BTEC in film and TV. By now he was vlogging and would spend time out filming. “Near the start of the second year I remember saying to my tutor, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t make it in very much.’ He said, ‘Listen, I shouldn’t say this, but we’re teaching you the thing you’re already doing so if I were you I would drop out.’ So I did. I started college with a million [subscribers] and ended it with ten million.”

When his schoolfriends were studying for their A-levels this summer, Simons already had his own flat in Brighton, renting then buying it. However, he says: “A lot of people want to live a lavish life and I just don’t. Mum still orders me a Tesco shop occasionally and will say, ‘I knew you needed groceries.’ I’ll say, ‘How on earth did you know that from Nottingham?’ ”

He says that his parents were no pushovers when he was younger and his dad refused to let him play Grand Theft Auto 5, even though his friends were allowed. “He said: ‘It’s got strippers in; you murder in that game. You’re 12, you can’t look at that, I’m sorry.’ They were really on top of it because they understood [gaming] and they communicated with me about it. When it turned into a career, they said, ‘OK, it’s important. We get it.’ But they’d still make sure I didn’t stay in my room all day. I’d still have to walk the dogs and [we’d] have dinner as a family.”

Simons doesn’t know how his career will unfold. He’s also getting used to being recognised. “Walking through Brighton I can hear my name being whispered all around me. It was a big adjustment. I became a bit scared of people after being inside for a year [during the pandemic]. I forgot how big the world was beyond my screen, but I’m loving it now.”

TommyInnit Says . . . The Quote Book by Tom Simons, curated and edited by Wilbur Soot, is published by Quercus, £14.99

#tommyinnit #it wants you to subscribe to see it online so here:

2K notes · View notes

spoopydeboop · 3 months

Text

Hello, and welcome to…

Pointless Palia Head-Cannons!

This is a segment where my hyper-focused and obsessive brain will shower you all with all of the pointless very important head-cannons I have about the MMO Palia and its many NPCs!

Today’s topic is:

Which Palia NPCs can sing well and which ones simply cannot carry a tune?

Now, in the words of the famous Italian plumber, “Here we go!” (List below the cut!)

NPCs are listed in alphabetical order.

• Ashura - Absolutely yes, but in a very deep, sea-shanty / Gaelic tune way. He’s not the most technically sound, but his voice is very gruff and soothing. Absolutely sang his son lullabies every night.

• Auni - No, I’m sorry. Convinced that he cannot carry a tune AT ALL but thinks he can. Sings loudly with zero inhibition whatsoever. Gotta give him credit there!

• Badruu - We know this man was in a traveling Bard group, so he’s musically inclined for sure. I feel like he would have been killer backup and filler vocals and he can harmonize beautifully.

• Caleri - Doesn’t believe in fun, jovial activities like singing. (Elouisa informs you later that her sister can in fact not carry a tune at all.)

• Chayne - Absolutely. He’s naturally musically inclined, but part of his spiritual training involved learning to lead chants and hymns. Bass level vocals, v soothing.

• Delaila - Not at all. Where do you think Auni gets it? Part of what entranced her about Badruu in the beginning was his musical abilities. She’ll still sing along with a group and put her all into it though!

• Einar - The concept of producing a vocal stimulation to create a pleasing melodic sound is lost to the robot. But if it’s your Oneness, he respects it.

• Elouisa - Cannot sing, but definitely played clarinet in high school and was first chair!

• Eshe - No way. Cruella de Vil type vibes. She definitely was classically trained on the piano, but doesn’t often exercise the skill.

• Hassain - Can absolutely carry a tune and harmonize well! Definitely low baritone or higher bass in range. Can harmonize with higher ranges very well!

• Hekla - Her Jina often sings to herself as she works, but the ability and desire to produce a series of melodies is not within her rune programming.

• Hodari - Not the biggest fan of singing, but has a decent voice that comes off pleasantly gruff and southern. I imagine if Pedro Pascal’s ‘Joel’ from The Last of Us sang a slower, more reserved tune. (My other example was the dad cow from Back at the Barnyard that sings “I Won’t Back Down”… Let me know if that woulda been better or worse.)

• Jel - Definitely took vocal lessons with his sisters. Has a very pleasant and airy singing voice that is very technically sound.

• Jina - Doesn’t really sing much except for to herself. Massive stage fright on this one! Hekla says that her Jina seems happy when she sings, and that’s what matters.

• Kenji - Honestly? 100%, yes. Maybe like a broadway or an operatic voice. Doesn’t sing much but I imagine it would sound really jolly if he was a jollier guy.

• Kenyatta - YES! Doesn’t sing because she thinks it’s ‘lame’ (she gives me massive ‘too cool for school’ vibes) but has a delightful and powerful singing voice (kinda like the wolf Porsha Crystal played by Halsey in Sing 2.)

• Nai’O - Yes absolutely. Got his talent from his dad! He’s very shy when put on the spot though, so he doesn’t sing in front of people often — mostly when he works in the field with his animals by himself.

• Najuma - Not at all! But it’s okay because Najuma has zero desire to, haha. Kid is happy to be tinkering!

• Reth - On god, YES. Man has a beautiful and casual singing voice with a little rasp around the edges. Sings to himself while he cooks or gets really focused on something. I’m thinking “Feelin’ Good” by Michael Bublé, but maybe bit more rough around the edges.

• Sifuu - Not much of a singer, but I know our Muscle Mommy definitely has a few war chants or something up her sleeve! Lady can keep a beat for sure.

• Tamala - Thinks she can, but makes it way too sultry. You heard me. There’s such a thing as too much!

• Tish - Yes! Absolutely. She seems like she would 100% have like a Mandy Moore or Kristen Bell vibe. Very Disney Princess-esque!

• Zeki - Okay, honestly I think yes — but not in a conventional way. Kind of like Ashura; I think he would be great at singing like traditional Grimalkin shanties or folk-songs. Not very practiced, but he’s got spirit!

OKAY FINALLY DONE! I plan to do a lot more of these! Let me know if you have any suggestions!

#palia theory #headcanon #palia headcanons #palia tish #palia najuma #palia hodari #palia oc #palia open beta #palia reth #play palia #palia game #palia mmo #palia jel #palia hassian #palia #palia ashura

110 notes · View notes

wordsbyrian · 1 year

Text

Tired - Claudia Pina x Reader

Summary: R has been super tired recently and has taken to falling asleep in places they definitely shouldn't

A/N: Believe it or not I started this fic before my recent bout of insomnia, wild. Also, it's not perfect but I wanted to get it out before midnight, I can edit it later.

If there is one thing that your teammates always made fun of you for, it is definitely your ability to fall asleep any and everywhere.

It’s a talent really and while you would love to lie and say that you don’t mean to but sometimes, it is 100 percent on purpose.

Right now it is not one of those times.

You’re stumbling through the airport with your teammates on your way to Sevilla to face Betis. Your movement resembles a zombie's, and you’re sure it’s probably equal parts amusing and worrying.

The trance of your half-asleep state is broken by the sound of your name being called by multiple people.

“Hmm,” you respond, lifting your head to look at the group of women in front of you.

“Did you get any sleep last night,” Aitana asks.

You nod.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain,” you lie, trying to stand up straighter, “You know airports make me tired.”

Your sister doesn’t look very convinced but you shoot her one of your usual mischievous smiles before stealing Clàudia’s coffee from her hand and taking a sip.

That does, of course, earn you a pout from your girlfriend but you just grin at her, placing a kiss on the side of her head before taking another sip.

Those two sips of coffee aren’t enough to keep you awake for the flight and you find yourself slumped against the window before the plane even takes off.

One would think that you’d be fine after taking a nap on the flight but that’s not what happened.

You barely woke up enough to get from the plane to the bus and once there you slipped on a pair of noise-canceling headphones and promptly went back to sleep.

The next time the team finds you sleeping somewhere you shouldn’t be is when they enter the locker room for MD-1 training before your next home game.

You’d had an early meeting with some of the training staff and instead of wasting time going home and coming back, you decided to catch a quick nap in the locker room.

It had seemed like a good idea until right now as the volume of the room steadily increased. Maybe you should’ve chosen one of the training rooms instead.

There are a couple of attempts from the older players to shush the rowdy ones but if anything it just makes them get louder.

Barely managing to keep from sighing, you open your eyes and sit up.

You’re not surprised by what you first see, the chaos of the locker room is something you are very familiar with. Most of the time you’re one of the people causing problems or trying to get everyone to laugh.

It’s what you hear that has you ready to go back to sleep.

Before you even have a chance to fully orient yourself, you hear Mariona shout, “Tough luck Pina! Looks like Sleeping Beauty didn’t need a kiss to wake up this time.”

“Mario, don’t be jealous because the girl you want to kiss is in London,” you respond making everyone turn to face you.

Somewhere off to the side, you hear someone mumbling about how you’re incredibly grumpy for someone who just took a nap.

But you ignore them in favor of grabbing your cleats and training jacket before heading out to the field, it always takes you to warm up when you have to worry about waking up at the same time.

Your neverending exhaustion continues to draw attention and it comes to a head during a night out.

You’re sitting in the booth you ad the girls have claimed with your head tilted back and eyes closed.

Unaware of how long you’ve been sitting like that, you jump when you hear something being placed on the table. The sound is immediately followed by the feeling of someone's foot brushing yours as someone takes a seat across from you.

Sitting up, you’re greeted by the sight of Mapi pushing a beer across the table toward you.

Not bothering to ask any questions, you grab the glass and take a couple of sips from it.

“I know you fall asleep everywhere but this is public even for you,” she says.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you tell her, ‘just taking a moment to myself.”

Your words don’t even sound believable to your own ears and based on the look Mapi is giving you she isn’t convinced either.

“You should work on your lying face for when Pina gets over here and asks what’s wrong with you,” she says, “Might also want to perk up because she is definitely going to pull you out to dance with her.”

Taking a deep breath, you sit up a little further simultaneously running a hand down your face before finishing off your beer.

“Better,” you ask, hoping that small smile you put on doesn’t look too forced.

“It’s gonna have to work because here she comes.”

You have less than 5 seconds to pull yourself a little more together before Clàudia drops into your lap.

“Hola cariño,” she says as you shift trying to make the position more comfortable for the both of you.

Once you’re comfortable enough, you bury your face in the back of her shoulder before mumbling a greeting back.

Sitting there, with your girlfriend in your arms, it's like everyone else has suddenly vanished. For the first time in a couple of weeks, it doesn’t feel like your brain is trying to burst its way out of your skull.

It’s amazing.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last very long because Mapi decides to remind you both of her presence.

“Cool so fuck me then,” she says. “You guys aren’t fun to be around when you’re being gross.”

Lifting your head slightly eyes barely showing from behind Pina’s shoulder, you shoot her the meanest glare you can muster before speaking.

“Do you want me to tell Clàudia about what happened when I went to play FIFA at your apartment last week,” you ask, “or are we both going to behave ourselves.”

You watch as Mapi leans forward slightly, trying to call your bluff with her eyes.

Unwilling to give in, you continue to glare at her before smirking and opening your mouth as though to tell the woman on your lap what happened.

“Alright fine,” she groans, sitting back. “Asshole.”

“Ha.”

“If the two of you are finished with whatever that was,” Clàudia begins, turning slightly to face you. “Will you come dance with me?”

Barely refraining from rolling your eyes, you unwrap your arms from around her waist, allowing her to stand and subsequently allowing yourself to be pulled up and towards the dance floor.

Time passes and at the end of the night, you walk both Pina and Patri back to their apartment.

Now, you’re leaning against their door, fighting a losing battle as Pina tries to get you to come inside.

“Just come inside and stay the night,” PIna says, for what must be the tenth time. She’s also pouting at you, which is not making things any easier on you.

“I kind of just want to go back to my place tonight,” you explain, trying not to give in.

“Y/N,” she whines.

“Clàudia,” you say in the same tone.

The two of you continue in this vein before Patri gets sick of your bullshit.

“For fucks sake, will you just come in and cuddle her, Y/N/N,” she shouts from somewhere inside the apartment. “We all know that if you go home, you’d just play video games until you pass out anyway.”

With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you allow yourself to be pulled into the apartment.

30 minutes later, you’re in the familiar position of spooning Pina laying in the dark, enjoying the silence. For a moment you think she’s fallen asleep, her breathing is even but then she speaks, startling you slightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been having problems sleeping?”

“Didn’t think it was a big deal,” you explain, “Nothing I could've done about it anyway, They were out of my ADHD medication, so I’ve been trying to wait it out.”

A beat of silence.

“How long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have you not been on your meds,” she asks.

“Almost two weeks.”

There’s another pause as Pina takes the time to roll over in your arms.

You can’t see her face in the darkness but you can imagine the look she’s giving you. It’s probably a cross between frustrated, annoyed, and worried. You’ve been on the receiving end of that look more than a couple of times.

“Two weeks? We’ve played three matches in the last two weeks, how have you been functioning?”

“Been going on extra runs,” you reply, “It worked when I was a kid, figured it would help now. Besides sleep deprivation is the easiest symptom to deal with.”

“Y/N,” the way she says your name is far too soft. “Mi amor, that’s not healthy. You should’ve told someone, we could’ve helped you.”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m going to pick up my prescription tomorrow after practice.”

“Y/N.”

“Clàudia.”

“Y/N.”

“Clàudia.”

A sharp pinch is delivered to your side.

“Ouch,” you gasp, barely resisting the urge to pinch her back. “Cariño, I’ve had ADHD my entire life, two weeks without my meds isn’t going to kill me.”

You both hear and feel your girlfriend sigh deeply before she places a kiss on your chin and turns back over, returning to her original position.

A few silent moments pass and you feel yourself beginning to drift off only for Pina again.

“Amor?”

“Hmm?”

“Promise you’ll let me know if you’re struggling, okay? You don’t have to solve all your problems alone.”

“Sí, lo prometo.”

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #espwnt imagine #espwnt x reader #claudia pina x reader #claudia pina imagine

656 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

Hi Mei!

Let me just say you’ve probably seen me liking literally every piece of fluff you’ve ever posted with this man’s name on it in the last few days and I’m obsessed

I might have already missed mvm but otherwise could I ask to see dbf!hotch showing up for you when the actual family in question doesn’t? Like reader is really really excited for an event/milestone and only hotchy knows how much you care and shows up?

Definitely not filling a sick little void in my own life? no?! I would never…. 🙇🏼

ohhhh to be supported by soft dbf!hotch <3

The laces of your shoes are twisted, and you're on minute three of trying to straighten them out. They're flat ones, thin, so they flip around and fold themselves this way and that when you loosen them. They look messy when tightened, and you've got nowhere to be anyways, so you sit on the back steps of your dance studio's steps and untwist them.

Your fingernails are already marred from the zipper on the back of your costume dress. Paying hundreds of dollars for an ugly outfit you only wore once on stage for an hour was not worth it, and your nails are starting to break even more against the tightly bound shoes on your feet.

You hear chatter all around, parents congratulating their kids, friends laughing with each other, but your world is silent. It's just the scrape of your fingernails against your laces, and your near-silent breathing.

You hear the scrape of rubber against rock, then a pair of black dress shoes steps into your field of vision.

You look up at whoever's standing by the stairs, ready to dart out of their way, but it's-

"Aaron!" You gush, rocketing to your feet to ram into him in a hug that nearly topples him over, "You're here!"

"I'm here," He laughs, loud and long and deep from his chest, warmth gushing out of the sound and into your chest as he squeezes you tight, "You were amazing!"

"I don't understand," You breathe, pulling back to look at him dazedly, "I didn't invite you. I mean-!" You struggle to right yourself, and his face flushes red as he tries holding in a laugh, eyes scrunched at the edges, "I mean, like, I never gave you a ticket, I- I didn't think you'd want to come. So how did you get in?"

"This is really helpful," He flashes a corner of the black leather case that you know his FBI badge is in, and your heart soars.

"Thank you for coming," You go in for another hug, spotting a group of people behind him, lingering with smiles on their faces and flowers in their hands, "Uh...?"

"My team," He keeps a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to them, where you're bombarded with bouquets, and a hug from a rather bubbly blonde, "I treated everyone to a night off tonight so that we could come and see you perform."

You're hit with a wave of emotion you're not sure you'll ever be able to properly express, probably not without getting a little too in-depth about feelings you'd rather not bring up. You choose instead to revel in the giddiness that comes from Aaron's presence, his team's sweet smiles, and his hand on your back, leading you to a black SUV where you're treated to the passenger's seat.

It means that three grown men have to sit in the middle row, broad shoulders squished against neutral, then skinny ones.

"I used to dance, too," A voice pipes up from the third row, a dark-haired woman in pretty nude lipstick, "But I got in trouble for kicking a kid in the shins, and they threw me out."

You giggle at the image, and the smile she shoots you through the rear-view mirror only makes you more giddy.

"I don't find that too hard to believe," Aaron glances back at her, a similar smile on his face that his team seems just as enamored by as you are, "Why did you kick him?"

"He made fun of my friend," She shrugs, "'Said she looked like a baby deer."

"Because of her legs?" The broad-shouldered man peers back at her, and at her nod of approval, scrunches his face into a grimace, "Man, that's harsh."

"I mean, she did look like a baby deer." The woman confirms, and a slim blonde next to her snorts, "But no one's allowed to say it, you know?"

"Don't kick anyone in the shins," Aaron's hand shoots out to brace on your knee, squeezing softly as he uses a red light to glance over at you warningly, "At your age I think it would be considered assault, and while I would rescue you from prison, I'd prefer not to."

"Don't listen to him, Y/N. Kick mean boys in the shins," The woman pipes up from the back, pretty dark eyes focused on you, "I'll come bail you out, and we can go out for ice cream on the way home from jail."

451 notes · View notes

axelsagewrites · 2 months

Note

kindly no pressure asking if locker room roy kent x reader will have a second part where jamie and roy finally talk/confront/fight? 🫣

Roy Kent*Apologise

Pairing: roy kent x f!reader

Word count: 1422

Warnings: swearings, mentions of semi public smut and getting caught, mentions of masturbating, a lot of swearing

Part one here

Masterlist here

The night Roy met you was the best day of his life but the day you sucked him off in front of Jamie’s locker. And the thing that somehow made it better? Jamie saw it. Roy had the next two days off from Richmond so best believe those two days were spent in bed with you, only leaving for food and water.

Roy was smiling as he walked into Richmond. A sight that truly unsettled all the staff and his teammates. “Alright Isaac? Nice weather the day innit,” he grinned at the boy as they walked to the locker room.

“Uh yeah captain. It’s nice,”

“Gotta love when the suns out. birds chirping. A breeze in the air,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Isaac muttered, looking over at Colin who looked terrified of Roy’s happiness.

As Roy walked into the locker room Colin paused to whisper to Isaac, “Wasn’t it raining?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Isaac said, eyes never leaving Roy, “but it cannot be good,”

As the rest of the team began to filter in Roy continued to make happy small talk, even asking Sam how his weekend had been. It was freaking everyone out. the other odd thing however just walked through the door.

“Alright Tartt?” Roy called over, wide grin on his face, “Hairs looking good,”

Jamie just nodded, muttering a quiet thanks as he began to get changed with a grimace on his face when he got to his locker. “What the fuck is going on?” Colin whispered to Isaac who was seriously considering taking up religion in this moment.

Jamie had never been so quiet during a practise. He did every drill without complaint, scored every kick, and even passed the ball. “I’m worried about him,” Ted sighed as he watched him play, “He just doesn’t seem himself,”

“His playing’s excellent though,” Nate said, before trying to joke, “Maybe this is the start of a mature Jamie Tartt,”

Beard crossed his arms as he stared out onto the pitch, “There’s a disturbance in the force. Besides. Roy’s creepy when he’s happy,”

“Great work Colin, nice foot work,” Roy praised, patting the boy on the shoulder before running to get the ball.

Just as everyone was about to call for a priest you walked out of the tunnel. Usually, your presence was first notice by Jamie who would give a loud wolf whistle but instead you were able to walk up to Ted without drawing much attention. “And what do we owe this pleasure?” Ted asked, a smile on his face.

“Hey coach. Roy forgot his phone, so I came to drop it off,”

As if on queue Roy jogged over to the group, ignoring everyone but you who he gave an unabashed public kiss too despite usually hating PDA. “What would I do without you?” he joked as you both walked to the side so he could put it in his hoodie.

“You’re in a good mood. Jamie’s still alive though?” you joked.

A wider smile cracked his face, “He’s growing on me. What can I say?” he said but you paused, crossing your arms to scan his face, “What?”

You glanced to the field only to notice Jamie instantly look away when it dawned on you, “You told him!” you whisper yelled, smacking at his chest.

“I did not,” Roy protested, trying to look serious when a smile cracked back on his face, “He saw us,”

All of Roy’s happiness flooded away when a look of pure thunder crossed your face and your hands went to your hips, “And you didn’t think to tell me? Have you been torturing that poor boy?”

“No but- “

“Don’t ‘no but’ me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why are you defending him- “

“Does my face look like it cares?” you asked, dropping your hands from your hips only to cross your arms again, “Whatever you’ve been saying to him you better stop,”

“I didn’t say anything! I swear,” Roy said as he realised how much he’d fucked it, “I didn’t mean to upset you,”

“You don’t need to say anything to say something,” you said, rolling your eyes at the confused look on his face, “You better apologise,” you said making Roy scoff, but you were prepared to call his bluff, “No apology, no sex. Sorry I don’t make the rules,”

“That is so not fair,” Roy scoffed, “You can’t do that,”

“Try me,” you smiled as sweetly as possible before turning around to leave, swaying your hips a bit extra than usual to drive the point home. “Bye boys!” you called to the team, glancing back at Roy to send a quick wink before you left.

The force was slowly being restored since Roy was now back to miserable and angry but unfortunately Jamie’s mood hadn’t changed yet. Ted had tried pulling Jamie aside but he just shrugged it off. The team was back in the locker room, getting ready to leave.

As Jamie turned to leave though Roy sighed, “Tartt,” he called through gritted teeth, “I need to talk to you,”

“Maybe I don’t wanna talk to you,” Jamie said and the tension in the room could be cut by a knife.

Isaac went to whisper something to colin but before he could even start Roy’s head whipped around to glare at them, “Everyone out,” he barked and instantly the boys sprang to leave, “Everyone but Tartt,”

“Hey I think it might be best if I stayed-“ Ted tried to say but the low growl from Roy and glare from Jamie had him exiting just as swiftly.

“What?” Jamie asked, huffing as he crossed his arms.

“I’m,” Roy started to say but the words tasted like sick as he tried to force it out, “Sorry,” he eventually managed.

“What for?” Jamie asked, cocking his head to the side.

“You know what for,” Roy huffed, “Not stop taking the piss and take the apology,”

“That’s not how apologies work ya know?” Jamie said, dropping his arms, “Ya big creepy weirdo you,”

“Hey, you’re the one that was watching!”

“Was not!”

“So, what were you doing in your car then?”

“None your damn business!”

“Uhuh sure,” Roy said, drawing out the words as he chuckled, “See if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the pervert. Watching me and my girlfriend- “

“Fucking in my fucking locker? Like a pair of fucking fuckity weirdos fucking- “

Roy couldn’t help but laugh a little, “You’re starting to sound like me,” he said making Jamie huff like a child. Roy sighed as a horrible feeling set in; maybe he had been wrong, “I’m sorry. I crossed a line. Won’t happen again,” he said, actually sincerely for once.

Jamie eyed him up and down before finally nodding, “Okay but just you know. Don’t tell anyone about well…”

“I wish I didn’t even know,” Roy joked making Jamie roll his eyes. The pair were silent for a moment, “We good then? You gonna start being a prick again?”

“You’re terrible at apologies,” Jamie rolled his eyes as he grabbed his bag, “but yeah, we’re good. don’t know how she puts up with you though,” he said as the pair headed out the locker room to finally go home.

Roy couldn’t help himself, “Not just her who goes down- “

“We are not that close,” Jamie cut him off, holding his hand up to Roy’s face and making him cackle laughing.

The pair actually walked out of Richmond joking and laughing together. A sight you saw while you waited to pick Roy up. “See you tomorrow?” Roy said, sending you a quick wave as he walked to the car.

“Yeah mate. Hey you never know,” Jamie said, tapping Roy’s shoulder making him pause, “Maybe next time it’ll be me and Keeley in your spot,“ he tried to joke but Roy’s smile dropped into a harsh glare, “On second thoughts I think I’m late to something bye!” he half yelled as he jogged to his car, never turning his back on Roy.

As Jamie sped out the parking lot Roy finally climbed in the car, “What did you do?” you asked, squinting at him.

“I apologised! Honest,” Roy said, holding his hands up in mock defence, “You can ask him yourself tomorrow,”

“I will text him,” you warned as you started the car up.

Realization dawned over Roy, “How’d you have the pricks number?”

“He gave it to me ages ago,” you shrugged, “Encase I ever needed it,”

“That little fucker,”

Taglist Sign Up Here

General taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @justtilly @jjkjbhj @clairacassidy @valeskafics @perla434 @selenestar78 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @urfavnoirette @randomstory56 @qardasngan @https-luvvia @im-the-fucking-lunar-prince @bryandechartisasmolbean @glorywielder101

Ted Lasso Taglist: @gee72sstuff @qardasngan @daisydark @slay-queer@strvngestark @scrumptiousroadponymoney @flora157 @thejediprincess56 @ringpopdust @meg-ro @saay-karani @marvgrrl @scaramou

#ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso x reader #ted lasson smut #ted lasso season one #roy kent #roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent x y/n #roy kent smut #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent x jamie tartt #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader

93 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

kelskart

bingobongobarry

Science Is Epic

surviving-misfortunes

Milwaukee's Finest Film Frauds

medicalprocare

Healthprocare

sallacm-blog

practicum blog