#oh also the comments in order: hey it’s me (a lot of them) -> sad bc i’ll be 161cm forever…. :[ -> beast of hair ->

[spiderwcd]

Stalked | s.g. 

pairing: Sam Golbach x influencer ! f ! reader 

summary: They knew something was off, but they never imagined it to be this bad.

Warning(s): angst! stalkers, breaking in, fear, profanity, mentions of a weapon

A/N: honestly first time writing angst, so forgive me if it's really bad, ALSO, please read the last note, I need your guys opinion on something.

images from pinterest ! 

Sam loved y/n, so much so that Sam let her finally move in. Well rather, they made it official. She had practically lived with Sam for a year now, always sleeping over and leaving all her things around his house. 

It was great, she loved waking up to Sam every morning and making him breakfast. She adored how he'd show up for some of her streams and talk to her fans. Sam was the love of her life, there's no doubt behind that. 

But recently something was off. 

It started off with a few overly creepy dm's, saying perverted things to her. She would block them but they seemed to never go away, assuming as they made multiple accounts to send the horrid messages. 

But then she felt like she was being watched, going out in public became sketchy for her. She noticed a hooded man in the coffee shop she frequented or around the corner in the supermarket. 

Then, it was getting really out of hand. She would receive random packages from fans all the time, opening them on her live stream and laughing at gag gifts. But it was odd to receive gifts on her front porch, when she regularly received gifts via a P.O. Box. She had opened one, regretting it to this day. 

In the box were various pictures of her around town, heart shapes surrounding her face. On top was a letter, long story short, she realized it was a stalker. 

Sam and y/n tried to figure out a way to put a restraining order, but couldn't due to the fact that they didn't know this said man's identity. 

Unfortunately, enough was enough. All she could do was go on another live stream tonight, explaining reasons why she wouldn't be streaming anymore. She propped up the camera, Sam in the back for moral support. 

"Are you ready?" She weakly smiled. 

Sam nodded, reaching for her hand as she sat back down as many fans joined in. 

She tried to put on her bubbly personality, attempting to welcome many of the fans. 

"Hey guys," she waved to the camera. "How are you guys?" She asked, placing her other hand on her chin as she looked at the various comments. 

Her fans knew her all too well, quickly recognizing that something was wrong. 

'oh no, y/n you okay? you look sad :(' 

'woah, mom and dad look so serious!? Are we in trouble?!' 

Y/n smiled at the concern, "yeah, guys you have all been bad," she sternly pointed to the camera. "Right sam? We gotta take away their Xboxes." She turned over to Sam, causing him to chuckle. 

"Yeah guys, who shit in the kitty litter? The cat's shit is not that big!" He joked trying to lighten up the mood. 

Y/n smiled, squeezing Sam's hand a little stronger as she looked back at the camera.

"Alright guys, Imma wait a little longer for more people to get in just so they don't miss anything." She announced, continuing to read the comments. 

'mother is mothering' 

'y/n, ask sam when the next video is coming out?!' 

'y/n is so pretty guys :)' 

She turned to Sam, "they're asking about your next video, babe." She pointed out. "I don't know, I've been put under a contract not to discuss any future videos guys." She put her hands up in defeat. 

Sam grinned at her before looking up at the camera, "Well, Colby will kill me for saying anything, but we're working on something to record tomorrow actually." He raised his brows, pursing his lips a bit. 

"You heard it here folks, Sam is not retiring." She joked. 

As they were goofing off and joking around, the viewer count went up to nearly 50k. She was impressed by the amount, amazed by her followers. 

"Wow guys, there's 50 thousand of you here!" She cheered, raising her hands up into the air. "So now that we have a lot of your attention, don't get too distracted by this beautiful face." She pointed towards Sam. 

Sam dramatically covered his face, pretending to be flustered. "Oh, stop it guys!" He responded with a high pitched voice. 

Y/n playfully smacked his thigh as she giggled, "Well, so this is sorta sad news guys," she began, trying not to look at the comments. "But this will be my last stream for a little bit, just there's been stuff that came up and it's no longer safe for me to stream. I would go more in depth but again, for our safety I can't really say why." 

She held back tears as she glanced over to her comments, fans practically panicking. 

'what?! noooo :(' 

'omg what happened?!' 

'nauuur! I look forward to your streams :,('

Y/n gulped, holding back tears as she read the comments. "Yeah guys, it's only temporary," she sighed, Sam holding her hand as he laced his fingers with hers. "But it's just to ensure safety for me and my loved ones, it's only until this problem goes away guys. I just gotta say, I love you guys, you guys give me purpose and I'm so thankful for that, so I hope you guys understand."

She weakly smiled, reading the many comments of support and touched by their kindness. 

"Well with that guys, I'm just gonna end it here," she sighed, leaning towards her computer. "See you guys, hopefully soon." She blew a kiss into the camera before cutting the stream off. 

She let out a sigh as she sat back down in her chair, a creak emitting from it. Y/n looked over to Sam, who offered her a smile as he rubbed his free hand on top of hers. 

"You okay?" he asked her, furrowing his brows as worry coated his voice. 

She nodded weakly, "I will be," she replied. "I just hate to stop streaming, I really want this stupid stalker to like chill the fuck out." She groaned as she rubbed her face. 

"I'm sure it won't be long," Sam tried to comfort her. "I mean he hasn't been around for a while." Sam shrugged. 

Y/n couldn't help but stare off into the ceiling, taking Sam's words sink in, "That's true," she mumbled. "I've had stalkers before, but they were never this bad." She emphasized. 

Sam understood her frustration, he knew streaming was everything to her. She worked hard to please her fans, streaming every other night practically. He loved that about her, how caring she was and worked for her fans even when days weren't as good to her. 

"Well let's get some sleep, okay?" Sam patted her thigh, standing up from his seat. 

Y/n groaned, throwing her head back, "This feels so weird," She grumbled, mimicking Sam's movements and walking towards their bedroom. "Are you still going to that haunted hospital or whatever?" She asked him, removing her sweatpants and sweatshirt. 

"Yeah, but I can always stay here with you if you want," Sam answered, watching her movements. "I can always reschedule it." He offered. 

Y/n threw on one of Sam's t-shirts, jumping into bed next to him, "No, no, I'll be okay," She declined, stabilizing her head onto her hand. "I don't want you to disappoint your fans, plus the cameras you installed really give me a lot more comfort." She smiled, her heart warmed by his gesture. 

"Are you sure? I-I just don't know how I feel about leaving you here all alone." Sam sighed, pulling her close to his chest. 

"Yes, I'm sure sam." She laughed a bit, laying her head onto his chest. She listened to his heart beat against her ear, she breathed in deeply before looking up at sam. "I love you, you know that?" She whispered to him. 

Sam smiled down at her, placing his finger under her chin as he pulled her into a kiss. "I love you more." He whispered back, pecking her on her forehead. 

The next day, she watched as Sam packed various equipment into his bags. But he wouldn't stop pestering her about his offer, her refusing it every time. 

"Okay, baby I will call you when I land, i'll check the cameras often, oh, and update me every like hour," Sam commanded, his suitcase in hand as his backpack strapped to his back. "I don't care if you think it's annoying, I just need to make sure you're okay." 

Y/n laughed at his demands, kissing him on the cheek, "I promise, but youre gonna have to worry about Colby in about two seconds cause it looks like he's gonna drag you away." She joked, pointing at Colby in the car. 

Sam sighed, "He’ll be fine," He rolled his eyes playfully. "Okay, I love you like a million, please be careful, okay? Lock all the doors and keep the windows locked, I'll call Celina or someone to come and keep you company." He suggested, landing a quick peck on her lips. 

"Alright, love you too," She chuckled, embracing him into a long hug. "Okay, okay, now you have a safe trip okay? And make sure Colby brings you back in one piece." She joked. 

She watched as Sam ran towards the car, looking back every few steps as he blew her kisses. She noticed Colby rolling his eyes, impatient as is. 

Y/n sighed as she locked the door, making her way to the living room. She dropped down onto the couch as she exhaled a breath. She looked down on her phone, deciding to check up on her socials. 

She was surprised by the sheer amount of support she received, fans encouraging her. She smiled at the many comments, her smile soon fading away as she looked at the random drama article of hers. 

Streamer Y/N L/N, goes on break cause of STALKER?! 

She rolled her eyes, of course they're trying to profit on her vulnerability. She threw her phone down onto the pillows, standing up onto her feet as she made her way towards the kitchen. She figured she could distract herself and make something to eat. Usually when she was bored she would stream, but for obvious reasons she couldn't cure her boredom at that moment. 

After she had made some dinner, she turned on one of her favorite shows. She decided a few episodes wouldn't hurt to catch up on, resting her head onto a few pillows as stared at the screen. 

A season and a half in, she heard her phone ding. She picked it up, letting the phone turn on and the message displayed on her screen. 

sam: 

just landed! How are things over there?

Y/n started typing out her answer, trying not to make it sound depressing as it felt. 

y/n:

great, i'm just watching some of my shows right now :)

It didn't take long for the phone to ding again, Sam's response delivered onto her phone screen yet again. 

sam:

sounds good

Do you want some company? I could send Jake or even Celina over

y/n:

I think i'll be okay for now

I prolly will be up for a while anyway so i'll let you know

sam:

okay, be safe babe 

I love you 300 million tons baby!!!

Y/n smiled at the text, seeming to miss her boyfriend even more now. 

y/n:

well I love you 300.01 million tons!

She shut off her phone, tossing it back to where it last was. She blankly stared into the TV screen as she tried to focus on the show. Her eyes began to grow heavy, slowly beginning to grow more tired. 

It didn't take long before she found herself sleeping on the couch, the random show adding as a background noise.

She awoke from her sleep, hearing her phone buzzing next to her. She fluttered her eyes, looking outside at the now dark night that had overtaken the evening sun as she slept. 

She groaned as she picked up her phone, Sam's name displaying on her screen with his photo on it. She mentally cursed herself for falling asleep, forgetting to update Sam. Y/n slid the answer button, bringing the phone up to her ear. 

"Hey, sorry I fell asl-." But before she could answer, Sam cut her off with panic in his voice. 

"Babe, Babe?! Are you okay?" Sam frantically asked. "Where are you right now?" He added, panic rising in his voice. 

Y/n furrowed her brows, confused on why he had begun panicking over not updating him on her whereabouts. 

"I'm just home, in the living room right now." She sighed, rubbing her eyes out of her tired state. 

"Okay, okay, please tell me you locked all the doors and windows," Sam sternly replied. 

Y/n stood up, noticing the TV had still been blaring. "Yeah, I locked the front door when you left and the backdoor had been locked, what's going on sam, you're really freaking me out." She grumbled. 

"Y/n, please listen to me very carefully," Sam began, shaking in his voice. She heard him talk to another person in the back, something about a ride to the airport. "Go to our bathroom, and lock the door, please baby." He panted, hearing a car door shut in the background as he began to run. 

Y/n just was more confused, but complied with his instructions. She began walking towards their bedroom, but froze when she heard a sound from downstairs. The sound of glass shattering echoed from the home. 

She sprinted towards the bedroom, locking the door and entering the bathroom connected to it. She swiftly locked the bathroom door, backing away as she tried to cover her heavy breathing. 

She forgot she was on a call with Sam, faintly hearing his loud shouts for her. She brought the phone back to her ear, barely stabilized in her shaking hand. 

"Y/n!? y/n!? What happened?! Y/n, please answer me!" Sam shouted, calling out for her. "Was that glass breaking?!" He called out. 

"Y-Yeah, I just heard someone fucking break a window or something downstairs," Y/n whispered into the phone. "Sam, I-I'm scared." Her voice cracked as tears began to spill onto her cheeks. 

Sam cursed a bit in the background, "Fuck, it’s gonna be okay baby, I promise." His voice shook, distressed as he felt hopeless in this situation. "Colby called the police so they should be over there any moment, just stay there and don't make a sound, okay?" He informed her. 

Before y/n could respond, she heard faint heavy footsteps make their way up towards the stairs. It seemed as if he had stopped at the end of the staircase, in front of the living room.

"Sam, I-I think he's upstairs," Y/n sobbed softly. "I’m so fucking scared, Sam." She whimpered out.

Sam cursed yet again on the other side, clearly frustrated and worried. "It's gonna be okay, Colby's still on the line with the cops, they said 5 more minutes, okay? Just don't say anything, it's g-gonna be okay." She heard Sam's frustrated sniffs as his voice cracked. 

Slowly, the footsteps became louder. They thudded with each step, slowly making their way towards the locked bedroom. Y/n felt hot tears stream down her hot cheeks, her heart pumping as if she ran a marathon. 

But then the footsteps stopped at the door to the bedroom. She listened carefully, her ears perking up to every sound. 5 minutes will feel like eternity. She listened as the door handle started jiggling to their bedroom, with a frustrated man's voice as he kicked the door once, then twice and with a loud crack as it swung and hit the wall.

She let out a scared squeal, Sam still shouting for her on the other side. She didn't dare to move, still intently listening as the man rustled around the room, trying to find something or someone. 

She could practically feel her heart beating out of her chest, feeling nothing but pure fear as the man began stepping closer to the bathroom door. 

Y/n found it odd when the man knocked. She didn't answer, letting yet another tear slip out of her eye. But she found it even more odd that he slipped a piece of paper under the door, seemingly blank. 

Y/n prayed that the police would arrive any moment, rescue her from this nightmare. But mostly wanting Sam to be there for her, to protect her. 

She shut her eyes, bringing the phone to her ear again. Sam kept calling out for her, freaking out. "Sam, If something happens, I-I love y-you okay?" She sniffed softly as she whispered softly into the phone. 

"Y/n, don't say that! You're gonna make it just a little long-" as Sam was about to finish his sentence, the door cracked just like the one in the bedroom. 

She jumped, tears spilling as she let out a sob. Just as quickly as he opened the bedroom door, the door ricocheted against the wall. She felt herself shake like a leaf as her back pressed up against the bathtub, watching intently as everything moved very slowly. 

The background noise of Sam's voice and everything else drowned as she heard her heart beating, eyes glued to the broken door. The man slowly stepped closer inside the bathroom, turning his head very menacingly.

The masked man creeped into the bathroom, the glimmer of a blade in his hand. She let out a sob as she turned her head away, shutting her eyes shut as she prayed it was a nightmare she woke awake from.

She could practically feel his breath on her face, now kneeling in front of her. His hand at first moved to her face, tracing his fingers on her wet skin but then moving his attention to the phone clutched in her hand. He scoffed as he snatched the phone out of her hand, bringing it to his ear. 

"Y/n? Y/n?! answer me, please." Sam begged on the other line. 

"She's unavailable at the moment." The man's deep voice rang out in the bathroom. 

"Dont you dare fucking touch her," Sam spat through the phone, gripping onto his phone with anger. "I swear to God, I will fucking kill you." He growled. 

The man chuckled a bit, amused by his threats, "Well, I don't see you anywhere." He laughed. 

Before Sam could give an answer, the man hung up the phone and set it down onto the counter. He turned back ever so slowly to her, staring down at the floor to avoid eye contact with her stalker. 

He kneeled back down, looking at her as she cried. 

"You're much prettier than I expected," He laughed, running his finger on a strand of her hair. "Don't be scared, only brought this if your little boyfriend would get in the way." He smirked under his mask, tilting the knife. 

As y/n froze up, tensing under his touch, she heard the loud sirens pulling closer to her house. The red and blue lights filling up the room, causing the man to jolt up and look at her one last time. 

"This isn't over." He mumbled, running out of the bathroom. 

With him gone, she let out a sob as it rang throughout her body. She covered her face, trying to calm down and reassure herself it was all over. 

Y/n heard the shouts of a police officer, warning the man to get down. She heard frantic footsteps run down the hall, afraid it was the man again. 

But instead it was a female officer, her gun drawn out and a flashlight shining onto y/n's face. She lowered her weapon, turning to her shoulder as she spoke through the walkie. 

"Are you y/n?" She kneeled down to her level. 

Y/n nodded, "Y-Yes." she let out.

The officer reached for her hand, helping her up. Y/n's legs shook as she stumbled forward slightly, apologizing as she straightened herself up. 

"It's okay, you have no need to apologize." She reassured, beginning to walk her out of the bathroom. 

"T-That paper, he slid it under the door when I was locked in h-here." She pointed with trembling hands. 

The officer nodded, kneeling as she lifted the paper. Y/n couldn't help but peek at the paper, curiosity eating at her. 

From what it looked like, it was a love note as he declared his love for her. The officer's face retorted into a one with disgust, hiding it quickly from y/n. 

"This will be put into evidence, my other officer will take you down to question you," She informed y/n, letting one of the other officers grab her arm and lead her down the hall. 

Y/n's eyes wandered to the broken bits of wood that was flown across the room, their bedroom in complete disarray. She noticed that the same knife he had carried was now lodged into the broken door that hung loosely on the hinges, on the door was a picture of her and sam. Sam's face was scribbled on, with a few profanities scratched around. 

Y/n felt sick to her stomach, unable to hold back tears as she trembled down the hall. The street was filled with cop cars, neighbors coming out to investigate the commotion. She spaced out, deep into thought as the police officer's informed her about the break in. 

Y/n simply nodded, still in shock. Then she noticed a figure run up to her, Sam. She felt tears spilling out again and a wave of relief washed over her as she watched him sprint towards her, hugging her as he panted and sobbed into her hair. 

"Thank fucking god," Sam cried, rubbing her hair as she trembled in his arms. "I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. I should've never left you alone." He cried, stroking her hair as he comforted her. 

She peaked over his shoulder, the flashes of blue and red covered the streets. She watched as the officers handcuffed the now revealed man as his mask had been removed, pushing him into the back of the cop car. Y/n quickly looked away, determined not to be afraid of him any longer. As long as she had Sam, she was safe. 

She didn't say anything, soaking his sweatshirt with her tears. He didn't let go of her, talking to the police as they interrogated him to find the story.

"Hey, can we do this another time?" Sam snapped, holding y/n as she rested her head onto his chest. "I would love to answer your questions, but she's been through a lot and I need her to rest." He sighed, stroking her hair softly. 

The officer understood, handing him a card. They thanked them for their time, getting into the car as they sped away. Y/n sniffled, gripped onto Sam's arms tightly, as if he would leave again. 

"You guys can stay at my place for the meantime," Colby offered. "I know your house is sort of a crime scene right now, and your doors are completely wrecked. I have the space." He added. 

Sam nodded, thanking his best friend. Y/n hasn't said anything to Sam, still traumatized from her experience. She sat silent in the car, holding onto Sam's hand tightly as they drove. Sam couldn’t help but glance at her, guilt building up inside him. 

When they had finally reached Colby's house, Sam followed y/n around. He was so afraid to leave her side again, y/n was comforted by his presence but she knew he had blamed himself for it. 

Y/n laid on the bed, glancing at her phone as she looked at the many articles about her. She frowned at the media article, turning off her phone when she noticed Sam enter the room. Sam jumped into the bed, letting out a deep breath as he stared up for a moment. 

"It's not your fault sam," Y/n began, causing Sam to avert his gaze to her. "If anything, I'm glad you weren't there, you didn't see what I saw." She added, looking over to him. 

"Y/n-" Sam started, but was ultimately cut off by y/n.

"No Sam, don't blame yourself, I told you to go," her voice cracked, fighting back tears that threatened to spill. "He would've hurt you, o-or killed you." She let out a sob. 

Sam didn't say anything, pulling her into his chest as she let out tears. He whispered to her that everything's gonna be okay, kissing her head as he petted her hair.

"T-There wasn't much you could do, Sam," She whispered, sniffing. "He came there to hurt you, you did the right thing to call the cops." She commented, looking up at her boyfriend. 

Sam half smiled down at her, "I know, just I wish I was there to protect you, I'm sorry." He mumbled, sniffing back tears. 

She smiled, placing her palm onto his face. "It's okay Sam, I'm okay," She reassured. "I have you around me to protect me now." She shushed softly. 

Sam nodded, reaching for her hand off his face. "It's all over," He sighed. "That's all that matters, you're safe." 

Sam wrapped his arms around her, her head pressed against his chest as she listened to his heart beat gently against her ear. It didn't take long for her to finally rest, his scent and gentle heartbeat to soothe her to sleep. 

"I'm never leaving you ever again." Sam whispered to her, kissing her head. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

hey guys, thanks for reading!

so now for my question, I want to know if you guys would like smut from me. I have a few works saved, but I'm so nervous that you guys wouldn't like it so please please PLEASE let me know if its something you'd like :)

thanks for your attention!

#colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #sam and colby #sam golbach #xplr #sam golbach x reader #sam goldbach #xplr club #xplr merch #colby

[gh05st]

hihi! i saw your requests open, so could i request soap, gaz, and ghost (separate) trying to deescalate the reader who's been crying and on the verge of a panic attack because the work stress has been getting to them.

if that's too many characters, feel free to choose one of the three!

apologies for the sad scenario. i had a rough week (´；ω；｀)

first off, im so sorry you’ve had a rough week, know that it’ll get better dude! confide in someone you trust if possible, you’re going to be ok 🫶🏻 - comments are appreciated <3

Soap

he walks into you at your desk, sitting in your chair with your arms wrapped around your legs while tears are streaming down your face. his smile immediately turns into a frown, and he walks over to you.

“oh no sunshine, what happened to ya?” he pets your head a bit and tilts your chin up toward to face him.

“it’s just been so hard soap, im trying my best every single day and yet it keeps piling up. i finish one thing and i’m already handed 4 more, i can’t do it- i can’t!” your chest starts picking up fast and you feel your breathing become shortened.

“woah woah, easy there lass you’re gonna overwhelm your system. take some deep breaths with me yeah?” he grabs your hand and puts it on his heart so you can feel his heart beat, “breathe in, 1-2-3-4. hold. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7, out for 8 alright?”

you repeat that pattern with his help about 6 more times and you start to feel less tense.

“relax, im right here with you. ease your shoulders, relax your neck and unscrunch yer eyebrows.” you follow the steps and he smiles, “that feel a little better hm?”

you nod and he takes you into his arms. he grabs his phone from his back pocket, dialing a number. you hear the ringing and when you hear the name of your favorite restaurant in the greeting you beam up a bit

“can i get uh one cheeseburger - no onions! and eh… let me have a diet coke with it would ya? thanks mate” he covers the phone with his free hand, “you want the usual?” you nod and he orders your usual order. “let me also get one of those ah.. what do ya call em?” he snaps his fingers “those ice cream sundaes, yeah extra whipped cream! that’ll be all.”

“should be here in about 15 or so bonnie, ya feelin a bit better?”

you nod and he sighs in relief, “you need a break, im callin yer boss tomorrow mornin - who cares if i’ve got to lie you’re getting a week off and we’re spendin it together! no work, we can even get out of here if you want.”

“i can’t just leave work like that johnny-“

“ah ah! nonsense, i’ll make it happen.”

you don’t protest against him but rather just accept it and wait for your food to arrive with him.

Gaz

“hey love! what’s u- oh no..” he stops in his tracks and finally hears your crying and heavy breathing.

he quickly moves to where you are and wraps his arms around you - squeezing a bit and pulling you in. the scent of his cologne helps your mind start to slow down.

“easy now, what’s wrong?” he pulls back and searches your face for an answer.

you look down and explain how work has been stressing you out, “i’m so tired gaz, i work all the time without any breaks and it seems like my efforts get me no where. i don’t even feel like i can stop because anytime that i do it just racks up. i know you work a lot and never complain ,i shouldn’t even be making this scene.”

“hey hey… none of that, yeah?” he boops your nose lightly and you smile a bit which makes him smile also, “there’s my sweetheart, cmere. just because i work a lot doesn’t mean you don’t too love, and i want you to know we don’t ever have to compare ourselves - we both have challenges.” you nod your head and he nods back.

- “how about you take the rest of this week off? i know your boss wouldn’t bother letting you go - you’re her best worker! call in tomorrow and we can focus on you.”

(or, alternatively if you’re a student! :>)

- “how about this week you just go in tomorrow, then take the rest of the week off. i know you’ll have to email your profs but your health comes first - yes even mentally. you’re a hard worker and you’ll be able to catch up before winter break love - but what i’m seeing now? you’re going to burn out if you don’t take this break.”

you listen to him and take the break, spending some days alone with him and he even messages his captain that he’s got to keep his eye on you.

“cap sends his best love, we all care about you.”

Simon/Ghost

unlike the other guys, ghost catches on quickly that you’ve been feeling upset. as someone who has his own internal battles, he recognizes easily when someone is fighting theirs. in fact, the night before he sees you rub your temples in frustration before slamming your laptop shut, he doesn’t have a huge reaction because he doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed or upset - instead he minds his business and waits for you to be ready.

although, when the next day rolls by he sees you on the verge of a panic when your whole assignment/document completely vanishes after hours of work. at this point you’re bawling your eyes out and he can hear from his office so he quickly gets up to check on you.

“you alright in here?” he asks, keeping a bit of distance not wanting to intrude on you even though you’ve told him before that he isn’t pushing your boundaries, he prefers to tread lightly and respect your space.

you explain to him what’s happened, or what’s been happening for that matter. not only did your work just vanish out of thin air on your laptop, the workload you’ve received has been insufferable.

you’re the one who initiates seeking him out and that’s when he fully goes to you with a warm embrace, hand on the back of your head holding you softly. “it’ll be alright, i’ll ask one of the guys to help you get that work back love.”

“i’ve been feeling terrible simon, i know i don’t say anything but i think i might just explode - or i kinda have.. haven’t i.” he chuckles a bit and sighs, “i noticed but i didn’t want to make you upset by bringing it up. you’ve gotta be easier on yourself, you do a lot and even though you might not have all your work done by tomorrow you need to take a break for your well being. not for me, for you. promise me a you’ll take a break?”

you nod, “good. i’m glad you’re listening to me for once.”

“hey i do listen to you! when i want to!” you say with a sniffle.

he laughs and holds you a bit tighter, he won’t let you go through this alone. you’re gonna spend the next few days just with him - relaxing till you’re feeling better.

-

I HOPE THIS IS ALRIGHT! thank you so much for the first ask <3 im not like a writer of any sorts but i did try :) i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

#soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz kyle garrick #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod #cod mw3

[cerastes]

Hey how come you making flippant comments in regards to your own self-improvement fetish is so enlightening in regards to mental health things is this the whole 'professional' thing at work.

I would like to think so! When we think of "psychology", most people might have a very Freudian image of it: A therapist solemnly but very comprehensively taking notes as a patient lies on a couch and spills their guts, only interjecting once or twice in the hour-long session and then charging you. Psychoanalysis, the Freudian technique, I don't think it's useless, but it's definitely just one of a myriad of techniques and methods with which to carry out therapy (and one I myself am trained in and do not like). I myself am more of systems theory of psychology kind of guy (Humberto Maturana, Ludwig von Bertalanffy, Gregory Bateson, among others), and systems has a very input-output sort of view (if you want to learn more, you can also look up second order cybernetics and radical constructivism).

Where I am going with all of this is that if it may seem like I'm making flippant comments, then that means I've synthetized my own self-care mind palace to such a degree that it has simply become part of my discourse, my lingo, my poise, if you will, but that in itself took a lot of introspective work in a way that was tangible to me, or in other words, in a way that my brain accepted it. Ultimately, it's the role of the psychologist to lead one to something rather than to reveal any sort of secret to wellness. Using myself as an example, as someone that had suicidal depression at one point, being told to "think positively" didn't do a damn thing, because if it was that easy, then depression wouldn't exist. Instead, I more or less had to trick my own brain into giving it reasons as to why it should think positively, because it makes sense to do so, and in the same vein, I had to give it reasons as to why thinking negatively was dumb. Because that sort of logic works with me. So it's less "hey, think nice things :)" and more "okay but does it have to be like this? Does everyone else have this crushing sadness as their normal as well? I don't think so, so maybe what I'm feeling isn't normal. Why am I thinking that way? What do they have that I don't? Oh, thing A and thing B, yeah, makes sense, and do I want these things? Mmm thing A doesn't really matter to me, but thing B, I'm loathe to admit, is something I desire, how about I work towards having thing B for now as a goal and then see if that is good enough or at least improves my mental state? Are things really as hopeless as I think they are and am I enlightened by my grim outlook? Probably not, so why am I hopeless and why are they not? There's something I don't have or don't know, let's see what that is, and put these shit thoughts on hold until I can ascertain these things". This is a summarized version, of course, but you know what I mean.

But where I'm going with this (again) is that once you grab onto your own internal logic (which is where the introspective work leads to!) and know what makes you click and how your own metrics and parameters of motivation work, it becomes much much easier to have a healthy mental state and keep it healthy. This, in my opinion, should be the long term objective of any good therapy: To at least start your user (I don't really use the term "patient") on this road. I'm making it sounds all sunshine and rainbows, but introspective work worth having does entail having to look at the uglier parts of yourself and acknowledging them, hence why not a lot of people see it through. It takes commitment and guts because you very much do reach a point where you need to look at these things that are awful and be like "yes, this, too, is me" before you can start going into how to turn these into advantageous things instead.

Likewise, the therapy I do tends to have this as goal: Let's work this shit together so we can organize it in a way that's easier to handle for starters, and then you can have a very good grip on the reins of what makes you feel good and what makes you feel bad, and so can easily dispel the brain fog by simply consulting your inner blueprint. Each user is a whole different journey, and it's part of what makes psychology such a beautiful field.

[skzhocomments]

The Five Stages of Grief - Bang Chan Oneshot Fanfic

(And a second cover because I couldn't decide)

General Masterlist

Pairing: Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x OC/Reader (Story is written in 2nd person, no name is mentioned)

Genre: angst

Word Count: ~10k

Warnings: death, devastatingly sad, mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts. No comfort, although it does end in a positive note. Ending is hopeful if you squint.

This is just a story that doesn’t describe Bang Chan or other mentioned Stray Kids’ members true characters in any way. It’s just a product of my imagination and should be treated as such.

This story is also on Wattpad (click here) and AO3 (click here)

---

A/N: As any other writer out there, I would appreciate reblogs and your comments on this story. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and most importantly, have fun!

© all rights reserved by skzhocomments (Tumblr), skzho (Tumblr)/ storminsidemycore (Wattpad), storminsidemycore (AO3)

---

The Five Stages of Grief

---

“Hey Channie!” You entered his studio with a smile plastered on your face, that soon enough turned into a frown when you noticed your boyfriend of almost 5 years hasn’t even acknowledged your presence.

He tended to do that a lot, especially when working on new comebacks. His whole focus was on that damn computer which you were sure by now was your life-sworn enemy. It’s hard having to compete with a screen to get your boyfriend’s attention, but such was life sometimes, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You knew the risks that came with dating an idol, you just didn’t know how much worse it could be if you were to date a workaholic, perfectionist idol.

This was Chan.

He spent hours and hours and hours cramped in his small studio, perfecting beats, arranging vocals, switching up different rhythms and trying to figure out what could work out and have the most success between his fans.

“Have you eaten?” You asked, kissing his cheek, and only then did he notice you’re there, and pulled out his headphones.

“Oh, hi. Didn’t see you come in.” Was all he said, his face scrunched in concentration. “Did you say something?”

“Just asked if you’ve had dinner yet.”

He must’ve, right? It was well past 11 pm, but one of his bad habits was working himself to death, and more often than not, he would skip meal times entirely simply because he wasn’t good at keeping track of time.

“I had a protein bar earlier.” He shrugged.

“Want me to order you something? Or even better, why don’t we both head home?” You asked with a smile, trying to be convincing enough for your boyfriend.

It usually worked.

He would normally laugh off your attempts to be nice and realise that you’re just trying to take care of him, and he would comply and go home with you for the night, then resume his work the next day.

Once you’d be home, he would crash immediately, proof of how tired he’d been and how much he’d ignored his body’s needs. His sheer determination was scary.

However, none of this happened tonight. He rolled his eyes and muttered a small “There she goes again.”

You played it off, though, realising he probably didn’t mean for you to hear that. Brave on his part, you thought, in such a small quiet studio.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked, your tone still friendly, as if you were joking with him.

What you didn’t expect was for him to turn his whole chair towards you, his expression angrier than you’ve ever seen him.

“You heard me. God, it’s so frustrating having you come here all the time bossing me around. Eat! Sleep! Stop working! Can’t you see I’m busy?!” He ranted, pointing towards his computer screen.

“Wow, sorry, Mr. Busy.” You chuckled, despite being slightly angry with his words.

He doesn’t mean them. You told yourself. This is another one of his bad habits: bursting out and speaking cruel words whenever he’s extremely stressed and has tight deadlines. It hadn’t happened often, only a handful of times in your years long relationship, but it hurt nonetheless whenever it did.

“And there you go mocking me.” He rolled his eyes at you. “It’s like you don’t even care about the work I’m doing.”

“It’s not that, Chan. You know how much I value your work, it’s just-”

“Yeah, bullshit.” He laughs. “If you would, you’d stop barging in here demanding things from me when you know I have stuff to do.”

“Hey, I know you had a tough couple of days with the comeback and all, but there’s no need for you to take it out on my like this.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest, this time feeling genuinely upset. It’s like he’s escalating it on purpose.

“No, it’s not just a tough couple of days. Don’t you get it? You do this shit all the time, and I’m frankly sick and tired of it. Can’t you just leave me be for once and stop being so controlling?”

“Controlling?” You asked, baffled. “How am I controlling, huh? By making sure you eat and sleep when you’re supposed to?”

“How do you even know what I’m supposed to do?! You always think you know best, but you never fucking consider any of my needs and wants.”

“Literally everything I do is fucking consider your needs, Chan.” You answered coldly.

“No. You’re just too deep in your head and can’t fucking figure out when to back down, so I’m telling you. Stop telling me what to do and leave me alone if I’m busy. God, I don’t need this shit.”

He mumbled the last sentence and put his headphones back in, turning his attention back to the screen.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done what you did next, but he hurt you, and you didn’t like the way your conversation apparently ended. You wanted to know what he meant, so you grabbed his headphones’ wire and pulled them out of his ears forcefully.

The way he turned to you and the look he threw you almost made your blood freeze, but you were far too upset to care about upsetting him anymore.

“What exactly don’t you need, huh? What is this shit, exactly?!” You gestured with your hands.

“You can’t fucking let it go, can you?” He laughed in a baffled way.

“No, unless you tell me what this shit is.”

“This. Us. Everything. I’m really fucking done with how overbearing you’re being. I was doing fine before I met you, and I sure as hell do just fine without you over my head every fucking minute of the day.”

“Oh, is that so?” You asked, expressionless.

He hurt you, but by his anger still present on his features, you realised it’s all pointless. You’re not going to see eye to eye tonight.

“Do you want to break up?” You let out, the words burning your tongue, and Chan’s eyes widen.

“What? No! Fuck, you twist my words.” He sighs, exasperated. “Just leave. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

When he doesn’t say anything else, you let out a shaky breath and watch him put his headphones back in.

“Oh, and this?” He starts, pointing to one end of the headphones. “Never do this shit again.”

You watch silently how he turns his chair to look back at the damn screen, without caring that you’re still there in the room.

The discussion is over.

“I see. Fine. I’ll go.” You let out, tears beginning to spill down your cheeks. He didn’t see them, and it felt like he didn’t even care that he’s made you cry.

You quietly made your way out of the room, your sight too blurry to see anything, and you headed home.

---

Denial

---

Chan’s eyes are beginning to sting painfully, and after rubbing them and checking the time, he figures out why.

It’s way over 5 AM when he decides to finally leave the studio, and although it’s still dark out, the streets are already starting to get filled with people hurrying to whatever painful morning shift they are scheduled for.

It takes him about 20 minutes to get back to your shared apartment, and when he does, nothing seems unusual at first.

The house is expectedly quiet, it being so early in the morning, and he already imagines how deep in sleep you must be by now.

He feels guilty for how he treated you, that he let the anger consume him once again, and he regrets it. He always regrets it when he lets stress get the better of him.

As he heads towards the bathroom to wash the harsh day off his skin, he starts thinking about how he could make it up to you. Should he buy you flowers and bring you breakfast in bed in 4 hours when you’ll most likely get up?

Although he hasn’t slept at all.

Should he take you out on a date after he’s well rested? There was this restaurant you mentioned a couple of times that you wanted to try, but he didn’t have enough time to take you there to eat yet, not with all the planned comebacks and the work that keeps piling up.

Maybe tomorrow is finally the day.

He finishes his shower and rubs his eyes again, and God, how tired he is, just as usual when he pulls out all-nighters. Everything seems ordinary, but as he opens the bedroom door, however, something is unusual.

You are not there.

Confused, he takes out his phone to check for any messages you might’ve sent him, but upon noticing there’s no new notifications, he throws the phone on the bed, screen down, defeated.

Did you really think he wants to break up? Did you finally have enough and left him?

He knows he treated you badly tonight, but he thought it’s just a small drop in an ocean of happiness. Arguments are unavoidable, unfortunately, and he can’t always be the perfectly composed man he’s striving to become.

Would you really leave after a couple of cruel words he didn’t even mean? He starts asking himself as he gets into bed. Surely you know how much he loves and needs you there for him. It was just a bad night, that’s all.

Maybe you just wanted some space, and decided to head to a friend, or to a hotel or something.

He thinks about calling you, but with how late it is – or rather, how early – he knows he’d just disturb you or any of your friends you would’ve gone to if he were to call.

He decides to go to sleep instead and figure it all out tomorrow morning, when his mind is clearer, and when you’ve both had enough time to cool down.

~

His head is pounding with pain as he opens his eyes and feels multiple pulsations against all sides of his skull.

This is the worst migraine he’s ever had, and he realises how right you were when trying to convince him to go to sleep early. He really needed more sleep.

He grabs his phone to check the time, and when he does, he sees it’s flooding with notifications. His manager called him about a dozen times, starting at 8 AM and continuing up until 15 minutes ago, and he has multiple missed calls and messages from all the members.

Ugh, it’s only 10.

Did I have a schedule I’ve forgotten about? He wonders, rubbing his eyes confused, but checking the date, he knows it’s his day off.

He decides to head to the bathroom and freshen up, while picking up his phone and dialling his manager’s number.

He reaches the bathroom and puts toothpaste on his brush, and by the time the phone rang two times, his manager picks up.

“Chan! Where are you?” He asks, his voice hurried. “Why haven’t you picked up?”

He begins lazily brushing his teeth and checks the date again, and sure enough, it’s his free day. There’s nothing in his schedule.

“Huh? What do you mean?” He asks, his voice still ridden with sleep, still tired from the lack of rest. “It’s my day off.”

“Are you at home?”

“Yes. Where else?”

“Good. That’s… okay. Have you talked to anyone yet?”

“No…? You’re acting weird. What’s going on?”

“Listen, Chan. Something… something bad happened. I need you to sit down for a moment, okay?”

“Okay...?” Chan nods absent-mindedly, continuing to brush his teeth, oblivious about what’s coming.

“Last night… God, I don’t even know how to break this to you, so I’ll just say it. Do note that the company will do its best to assist you and-”

“Cut to the chase. What’s wrong?” Chris asks, starting to get worried. He finishes brushing his teeth, and just as he prepares to put the toothbrush down, his manager’s next words make him drop it to the floor instead.

“Your girlfriend passed away last night. She was hit by a drunk driver on a crosswalk, and although an ambulance got there in less than 2 minutes, she was already… I’m sorry.”

The line falls silent as Chan tries to process what his manager just said. The only sound in the room is made by the toothbrush hitting the bathroom’s white floor tiles.

Chan heard wrong. There’s no other explanation.

“That can’t be.” He dismisses his manager completely. “She was just with me in the studio last night, and then she came-”

Home. But you weren’t home.

“She must’ve gone to a hotel or something.”

“Chan… I’m truly, truly sorry. As I said, we’re going to support you through this tough time with everything we’ve got.”

What tough time? Chan wants to ask but stays silent instead.

He picks the discarded toothbrush from the floor and throws it away. How careless he’s been, dropping it.

He wants to chuckle at his stupidity, and he can’t wait to tell you about it. You’re going to nag him again for being careless and dropping things. This is the 3rd toothbrush he’s changing this month.

“Oh, God! Again?” He can already picture you with an amused expression on your face, your arms crossed. “You’re always dropping stuff on the floor!”

The thought brings the ghost of a smile on his face, and he starts wondering again where you might be. Surely your manager is mistaken.

“Her parents tried getting in touch with you, but they said you didn’t pick up. You should give them a call.” His manager continues to say. “From what they’ve told us, the funeral will be held tomorrow morning. JYPE offered to pay for all expenses. Anyways, this must be too much information to swallow for now, so I’ll come pick you up in 20 minutes and we can go to the company together. The rest of the boys are already here.”

“Okay, see you in 20 minutes.” Chan replies, not really understanding what’s happening.

He ignores the countless missed calls and messages and opens his call history to dial your number instead.

It goes straight to voice mail.

~

“Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?”You chuckled, asking him with an unsure look on your face.

“Yes. The beep-”

“Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!” You cheerfully said, ending the recording with a small laugh.

“Are you going to keep it like that?” He asked amused.

“Why not? It’s straight to the point!”

“You left my voice in it, though.”

“Oh, does it bother you? I can record again if you want me to.”

“No, no need. I just – isn’t it a bit weird?” He chuckled. “You even forgot to say your name.”

“Whatever.” You waved a dismissive hand in the air. “If they called my number, they know who they’re calling.”

“Fair enough.” He laughed.

~

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

He chuckles absent-mindedly at the memory of him teaching you how to record a message redirecting your callers to leave a voice mail. You’ve never been good at technology.

“Hi, babe. Can you please call me? I need to talk to you.” He says, deciding to leave a message, even though he isn’t convinced that you’ll get to hear it. You usually forget to check your voice mail.

He tries calling again, just for good measure.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?’

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for-‘

And again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly’?

Yes. The beep-‘

And again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?’

Yes.’

‘Hello! You’ve called…’

‘Hello!’

He throws his phone on the bed exasperated. Why aren’t you picking up?

You didn’t even come home last night, why is your phone turned off?

Do you want to somehow punish him for being cruel and make him worry?

He shakes his head confused and begins changing his clothes from the comfortable pyjamas to an appropriate enough outfit to go to the company.

It should be a crime to have to go so early in the morning anywhere on your day off.

When he’s done and he looks somewhat presentable, he picks his phone back up and dials your number again.

‘Hello! You’ve called-’

He cancels the call just when he hears a knock on his door, and opening it, his manager is looking at him sombrely.

“Hi.” Chris speaks first, but his manager doesn’t say anything. He just pulls him into a hug that lasts way too long, Chan thinks.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” He finally says after pulling away.

Chan doesn’t know what to reply, so he opts to just stay silent. His manager’s words don’t register in his head anyway; maybe he’s still tired.

He did go to sleep way too late.

They head to the car, and although the ride to the company only lasts 20 minutes or so, the 20 minutes feel like an eternity.

It’s just as his manager said, and everyone else is already at the company. When he sees the boys, they come rushing to him, their faces tear-stained and their clothes black.

“Oh, Chris…” Felix hugs him tightly and starts crying, and Chan starts comforting him by patting his back a few times.

A few tears escape past his eyes as well by seeing all the boys so gloomy, but he still doesn’t seem to be able to wrap his hand around it.

“Her parents said the wake is taking place at their house, so that’s where we’re headed now. I thought it’s better for you to not go alone.” His manager blurts out.

Chris looks dejected for a few seconds, before taking out his phone again and dialling the familiar number. This time, he types it himself. He knows it by heart.

With a shaky hand, he puts it against his ear and waits to connect.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

It makes no sense.

You couldn’t possibly… have died.

You are so young. You have so many plans and so many things you still want to do.

He is supposed to apologize to you and pamper you the whole day just to make up to you for being an asshole last night. He is supposed to take you to that restaurant you’ve been bugging him about for weeks.

You can’t possibly be gone, just like that.

~

Your parents embrace Chris as soon as he steps through the door. They’re sobbing loudly, and there are so many people present – some, he recognises: old friends from middle school you’ve shown him pictures of, some other colleagues from university, some coworkers he had the pleasure of meeting at the last Christmas party held by your company, a few family members…

There are also many people he doesn’t recognise; people your age, and Chan gets reminded once again of how young you are, with your whole life ahead.

He shakes his head once he notices a coffin on the large table in your parents’ living room; the same table you’ve both ate at just two weeks ago when you’ve last visited.

“My baby, Chris is here to see you.” Your mother cries, approaching the coffin and pulling his hand to guide him towards it as well.

It’s closed shut, and on top of it, your picture stares at him with a happy smile. You are so beautiful; he’s always loved this picture of yours. He’s the one who took it, just after you’ve graduated Uni and he handed you a big bouquet of your favourite flowers, rose peonies. You said your eyes wrinkled in a weird way, and never liked it, but he absolutely adored it. It’s been his wall screen ever since.

The coffin is made of dark polished mahogany, and its lid is adorned with golden handles.

You can’t possibly be in there.

Although beautiful, how could such a small coffin hold the large essence of your soul?

It makes no sense whatsoever.

Your parents’ cries seem real enough, though.

He touches the top of the coffin and wonders why it’s closed. Why would it be closed, when you are so gorgeous? People should see you, not a simple picture.

He decides it must be because you’re simply not in it. Or if you are hiding in there, maybe it’s all a joke and you’re going to open it from the inside and yell Surprise!, shocking everyone in the room and making your mother faint. It’s something you’d do.

So, he waits.

He waits, and waits, and waits, and his feet grow tired and his back starts aching after so many hours on his feet. People come and go, paying respects, patting his shoulders and trying to make some small talk, talking about you in past tense.

“She was such a wonderful person.”

“She was so full of life.”

“Her laugh was so intoxicating.”

“Her work ethic was admirable.”

“She was so smart.”

He listens and nods to each of their words. They are right. You are a smart, wonderful person, you are full of life, your laugh is the best thing he’s ever heard. He’s wished more often than not to record it and put it in one of his tracks, but every time he’d mentioned it, you called him silly.

By the time your father brings him a chair and places it next to the coffin so he can sit down instead of standing, it’s already night out.

“You should get some rest, Chris. I’ll stay with her.” He tells him, placing his strong hand on Chan’s shoulder as to attract his attention, but Chan just shakes his head.

How could he go sleep when you might decide any time to wake up?

Would you panic, with the lid closed and all? You’ve always been claustrophobic. Why is it closed, anyway?

~

It’s already morning when one of your relatives approaches Chris and urges him to get out of the living room to change his clothes.

They’ve brought him a white suit at the request of your father; wedding attire, since you didn’t get the chance to get married before you passed.

He is reluctant to put on the white pants and uncomfortable suit jacket, but he does it anyway. Your mother cries when she sees him, and your father pats his shoulder and thanks him for doing this.

The priest comes, and a lot of your friends visit your home again, to lead you on your last journey, apparently.

It takes the priest about half an hour to finish praying for your soul, and then your coffin is loaded in the back of a hearse. The car moves slow enough for everyone to be able to follow, and Chris is walking right behind it, next to your parents. Felix is behind him with Lee Know and Changbin, and the rest of the boys are somewhere far back. He sticks out like a sore thumb, dressed in all white while everyone else is wearing black.

Each time the car passes next to important places in your life, the hearse stops and people throw coins on the ground. They pass by your kindergarten and your old school, and with each step, your mother cries harder. Your father tries his best to stay composed, but even he bursts into tears when your mother starts talking about your life and what a happy kid you were.

Chris doesn’t shed a tear. He follows the hearse blindly, and when it reaches the cemetery, he watches as his members take out the coffin and place it on the ground next to a large, freshly dug hole.

The priest begins a final prayer, and soon enough, he watches how the coffin disappears inside the hole. People start throwing soil and flowers. He doesn’t know how a couple of roses get in his hands, but he begins throwing them one by one on top of the coffin that keeps getting lowered down.

You’ve never liked roses that much. You like peonies. Why did someone hand him roses?

There is also some music – hymns, or the sorts. Something you wouldn’t like. He doesn’t like it either.

A few moments later, some people begin covering the coffin in dirt, and he watches the scene expressionless. It gets covered fairly quickly. People start crying even harder, and his ears start ringing.

He feels sick to his stomach, so he decides to take a few steps back as soon as the whole gets filled to the brim with the freshly dug soil.

“I can’t believe she’s truly gone. She was so young!” He hears a woman say from somewhere behind him. He doesn’t bother turning his head to check if he knows her or not.

“Right? We were talking just yesterday morning at work about going shopping this weekend.” Another woman replies in a quiet tone.

“They didn’t even open the casket.”

“How could they? Didn’t you hear how she passed?”

“No! What even happened?”

“She was apparently crossing the road and a car came out of nowhere, hitting her with more than 200 km/h. It threw her like 30 metres in the air.”

“Oh my God! I heard it was a car accident, but this…”

“Yeah! It’s insane. There was barely anything left of her… only shattered bones and flesh, nothing resembling a human.”

“Shh, what if someone hears you say that?!” The other woman tried to silence the first one.

After hearing these details, Chris feels even sicker.

He wants to throw up.

“Son, we are going to the reception now. Do you want to come with us in our car?” Your father approaches him, and Chris simply nods.

He hugs him for a few seconds, and then they wait for your mother to come, and the ride to the restaurant is filled with her sobs while your father and Chan remain expressionless.

~

He sits at a table next to your parents. Felix is on his left, and the rest of the boys and other members of JYPE are sitting nearby.

There is an empty space to his right, and in front of it, the table is full of your favourite foods, snacks and drinks.

His eyes are stuck on that empty seat.

“Wow, they really brought me a lot.” You chuckle, looking at Chris with your head supported by your right hand, your elbow against the table. “How am I supposed to eat all of this?”

He watches the scene stunned.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why the long face?” You ask, the smile on your face wider, raising a hand to caress his cheek.

The next time Chris blinks, you’re gone.

The seat is empty.

~

The boys insist that Chan comes with them to the dorms, or that at least some of them come home with him.

“It’s not good to be alone.” Hyunjin says sympathetically, and Chris simply shakes his head.

What if you come back home tired and want to rest, but the boys are there visiting? He asks himself. It wouldn’t be fair to you.

So, he goes home alone, after much bargaining with them that he needs some time on his own.

The silence that greets him once he opens the door to your shared apartment is deafening.

He first goes to the bedroom to check if you’re back yet, but the sheets stay as empty as when he woke up two days ago, so he pulls out his phone to dial your number again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

The beep sound follows soon after, and he begins talking.

“Babe, I know you’re mad at me. I was wrong. I’m sorry. It’s time to come back home now. Please?”

A second beep follows, signalling that the time to record his message is over, so he ends the call. He ignores the countless notifications piling up on his screen, all the Condolences messages he’s been receiving, and he places the phone in his pocket and starts making the bed.

“Wow, well done, Channie! I’m impressed!” He can almost hear you chuckling, and turns his head towards the door, fully expecting you to be there laughing at him and praising him for doing the bare minimum, but there’s no one there.

Once the bed is made, he heads towards the living room. A half empty glass of water is on the table, its margins stained by your lipstick, next to a plate full of breadcrumbs.

Tsk, how messy. He rolls his eyes, knowing exactly why you haven’t cleaned up. You must’ve eaten in a rush again, this bad habit of yours.

You’re always complaining about stomach aches, but you keep eating on the go while getting ready for work in the morning, and never enjoy your meals.

He takes a picture of the crime scene and opens his phone again, shooting you a text.

“Forgot to clean up?” He asks, then attaches the picture of the plate and glass.

He knows you’ll probably laugh and start excusing yourself once you see it. If he were to check his gallery, half the pictures are surely of the dirty plates you simply forget about on the table.

Chris always washes them, but never fails to remind you of it.

This time, too, he takes the plate and glass to the sink and turns on the hot water. He rubs the plate with a dish sponge with way too much dish soap on it, and he hears your voice in the back of his head again:

“My, Channie! You’re so wasteful! You only need a drop. A single drop!!! What are you using so much dish soap for???”

He starts laughing as he grabs the glass and throws the half-drunk water out, but before washing it, he notices the lipstick stains again. He smiles to himself and sets the glass aside, wiping it off with a napkin, careful to not accidentally remove the stain.

Your lips left such a pretty mark, he doesn’t want to part with it yet, even if you are going to give him an earful later for not washing the glass properly.

When there is nothing else to do around the house, he opens his laptop and starts sorting out his emails. All of their schedules for the month have been cancelled, and their upcoming comeback postponed indefinitely.

He doesn’t think it’s necessary, but at the end of the day, the company’s rules must be followed. You’ve complained about him working too much anyway. Maybe this is the chance for you two to spend a bit more time together.

All he has to do now is wait for you to come back.

~

He waits.

And waits.

And waits…

Felix visits with Jisung and Seungmin the next day.

And then the next, Jeongin comes with Changbin and Hyunjin.

Minho drops by every morning with enough food to last Chris the whole day.

His manager comes once a week and makes sure to call him daily.

Whenever he’s on the phone, he paces around the empty apartment and looks around. He sees the jewellery you left on the coffee table; your sports shoes are still on the doormat in front of the door, your face creams and serums stay untouched in the bathroom, your hairbrush lays by the sink filled with loose hair, and there’s a half-ironed shirt on the ironing table in the dressing.

You don’t like other people touching your stuff, so he leaves everything just like that, waiting for you to come back and fix it all.

The glass with your lipstick stain on it is still there on the counter, next to the sink.

He’s texted you about a dozen of times since he first messaged you about it and the plate that’s long been washed, but you haven’t replied to a single text. Your phone still goes directly to voicemail, but worst of all… no matter how much he’s waiting…

… you don’t come home, and the apartment stays empty.

~

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

~

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right!’

~

‘Hello!’

---

Anger

---

It’s been more than a month, but Chris still sets the table for you each time he eats what Lee Know brings him.

He wouldn’t bother eating much, if Minho wouldn’t have insisted to tag along to practically every meal after he noticed that he’s barely touching the food.

He always places one more plate on the table, right in front of him, at your usual spot.

“Just in case she comes back and gets hungry.” He explains to Minho, but he’s had enough of this.

“Hyung…” Lee Know hesitates. “She… she’s not coming back. You know that, right?”

His tone is quiet, and he tries to approach the subject as gently as possible. However, it’s time for him to do something. You’ve died more than five weeks ago, but Chris hasn’t moved any of your belongings, not even to store them.

There’s a box of tampons on the kitchen counter, but he won’t even move that, for fuck’s sake. He keeps waiting for you to come home, as if he doesn’t realise the fact that you’ve passed away.

“No, she will.” Chris says firmly, daring Minho to challenge him more.

“Hyung… She… she died. She’s not coming back.”

“You’re wrong!” Chris shouts all of a sudden, hitting the table with his fist strong enough to make the tableware bounce. He knows Minho is right. After waiting for you for weeks on end without you coming back, after dialling your number about a million times, after sending countless texts with no reply from you… he knows. But…

“Chris…” Lee Know stares empathetically.

“You’re all wrong! She… she’s coming back, goddamit!” He shouts again, this time grabbing the table’s edges and flipping it. The empty plates fall to the ground and shatter in the process, and Minho’s pot spills on the carpet, staining it.

Chris tries to cling to the last bit of hope he has regarding you, but he knows you’re dead. Everyone else was right, and he was wrong. You’re really gone.

“I’m sorry, Hyung. You… you need some help…” Lee Know continues with a shake of his head, bending down to grab the broken pieces of glass.

When he’s done cleaning up the carpet and the floor to the best of his abilities, he takes one more look at Chan. He looks like a ticking bomb, ready to explode again any second now.

Lee Know doesn’t know if it would be good to give Chan space, or if he should insist again that he comes with him to the dorms.

He decides to ask him anyway, and to his surprise, Chris nods and packs a small bag with clothes and hangs it on his shoulder.

They made their way out to Lee Know’s car, and once they’re at the dorms, they say goodbye as each goes to their respective apartments. Chris used to live with 3RACHA and Hyunjin, so that’s where he’s headed.

The dorms are as messy as he remembers, but they bring him comfort nontheless. His old room brings him solace as well.

There are a few pictures or you on the small desk in his room, and he looks at them fondly. You’re smiling beautifully in all of them. It’s the you he remembers. You, at your first date; you, the first time he took you to an amusement park; you, when all your fingers were coated in chocolate after you attempted to bake him a cake.

It’s you.

God, how he misses you.

How dare you leave him alone?

How dare you?

Why didn’t you fucking look to the left before crossing the road? Even if the traffic light was green, you should’ve fucking looked.

You’ve always been careful to look, so why…?!

Watching the pictures no longer makes him happy. It makes him angry, and out of anger, he punches the wall behind the desk with all his strength.

It makes no sense, really, but the pain in his fist takes away from the pain in his heart, so he punches the wall again.

He decides to try and calm down after hitting the wall two more times, and he hops into his old bed, shutting his eyes tight and thinking about the night you died.

‘I’m really fucking done with how overbearing you’re being. I was doing fine before I met you, and I sure as hell do just fine without you over my head every fucking minute of the day.’

Those were some of the last words he’s said to you.

Since you’ve died a few blocks away from the JYPE building, it happened right after you left.

You died thinking he doesn’t love you.

You died thinking he doesn’t need you.

He does.

He needs you.

If only he’d gone home with you that night, as you asked him, you would’ve never died.

It’s his fault.

It’s his fault you’ve died.

He killed you.

He lashed out on you and blamed all his stress on your attempts to take care of him, and he killed you.

Fuck, it’s all his fault.

For the first time since the funeral, he bursts out in tears, and he is unable to stop. It’s like all of his repressed feelings for the past month and a half come biting him right in the ass.

It’s so hard to breathe. He’s getting suffocated.

He can’t.

He can’t breathe anymore.

You’re on top of him, suffocating him.

“You killed me.” You say, blood running down your face.

He can almost feel the drops hitting him, with your face so close to him.

“It’s your fault. “You knew what you were saying. You killed me.” You say again cruelly, and Chris shuts his eyes even tighter.

His cries soon turn to wails, and he’s being loud enough for Changbin to hear him and get alerted. He opens the door without knocking, and upon seeing Chris, his heart breaks.

He just goes to the bed and throws himself on top of Chris, as if to shelter him somehow from the intense grief he’s feeling.

When his cries quiet down, Changbin takes a look at his friend and sees his injuries.

“Holy fuck, your hand is bleeding. Are you okay?” He asks in panic, standing up quickly to grab the first aid kit to bandage his fist.

“It’s all my fucking fault!” Chris screams at the top of his lungs, and his destructive mood comes back. He stands up, wanting to destroy it all. Every damn picture, every fucking thing in this room.

He wants to set it on fire and let it it all to pieces, letting himself burn as well. It’s what he deserves for killing you.

Sure, the drunk driver that hit you was directly responsible for taking your life, but the way he acted that night… nothing would’ve happened if it weren’t for him.

He killed you.

Changbin sees right through his erratic behaviour and anticipates his moves, throwing himself once more at Chris, holding him tight and not letting him move, no matter how much Chris lashes out. He doesn’t let go until his friend calms down again, and even after he does, he decides to camp in the room with him and keep him company.

---

Bargaining

---

It’s been three months, and Chris still has some difficulties accepting that you’re truly gone.

He probably shouldn't be here so soon, but it’s like he has to make sure again that you’re… that you’re dead.

Your parents did a great job with your grave; your gravestone made of marble stands tall , centred right in front of the ground you’re buried deep within, and the intricate designs of sculpted vines and flowers reminds him of you.

Oh, right. Flowers.

Chris remembers he brought a bouquet of pink peonies with him. He’s been holding onto it tightly ever since he bought it and stepped in a taxi to come here, but as soon as he got to your grave, time stopped, he couldn’t breathe anymore, and he forgot about the flowers in his hands.

It’s not like you need any more; there are so many fresh flowers all over and around your grave. Your parents also planted lots on top of the soil above your coffin, decorating your rest place beautifully.

You’ve always said you wanted a garden, and now, you have one: your little space in the uncomfortably large cemetery at the edge of the city.

“My favourite flowers. Aren’t they pretty?” He swears he can hear your voice, and turning to his left side, his breath hitches in his throat, choking him.

There you are, holding the bouquet of pink peonies he bought with a large smile on your face, but just like last time, he blinks, and the bouquet is in his hands, as it’s been the whole time, and you’re nowhere in sight.

A tear rolls down Chan’s cheek. He wishes he would’ve bought you that house and garden you’ve been dreaming of, instead of the convenient apartment in the city centre.

He wishes he would’ve proposed, and that you’d build a little family together. After all, you were his solace in the midst of all the chaos of his life. The sole person bringing him purpose and comfort.

But now you’re gone.

He wishes he wouldn’t have always put his job first. Especially now, as his schedules stay empty due to the company fearing for his well-being, he realises how much free time he could’ve had if only – if only he’d listened to you.

He regrets all those late nights in the studio when he could’ve been home sleeping next to you.

He regrets every breakfast, lunch and dinner he’s missed because he was too busy with making a new song, learning a new dance, or preparing for a new comeback. Now, none of it matters. You’re gone.

He could’ve postponed all of them. He could’ve done so much differently, and he regrets it all.

You’re gone.

He places the peonies in a little vase near your gravestone, next to some daffodils someone must’ve brought you a few days ago.

Then, he raises his gaze and reads the inscription in the headstone’s marble. It’s your favourite poem by Clare Harner.

Good choice, he thinks, as he goes through the lines of Immortality and traces each engraved letter with his fingers.

~

‘Do not stand by my grave and weep

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints in snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning's hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand by my grave, and cry--

I am not there, I did not die.’

You stopped reciting the poem and took a deep breath, looking expectantly at Chan.

“Isn’t this poem beautiful?” You asked him, your eyes sparkling.

“A bit morbid, but yes.” Chris chuckled as he placed the freshly made pasta dish in a large plate and served you dinner.

“Aww, thank you. Smells so good!” You grinned in delight, your eyes closing into crescents, as they always did whenever you smiled brightly.

He couldn’t help but press a quick chaste kiss against your lips before he sat down as well.

“So, pasta master, show me how it’s done.” You encouraged him, nudging his elbow and handing him your fork and spoon.

“Tsk, you’re so spoiled.” Chris tutted jokingly, but complied nonetheless and started twirling the pasta with the fork. Once it became an appropriate bite-sized portion, he raised the fork and supported it with the spoon as he brought the food to your mouth.

“Mmmm, so good!” You exclaimed with a few quick, excited small claps, as soon as you started feeling the flavours.

“Of course, what were you expecting?” Chris chuckled.

“Only the best from you.” She praised, petting his head fondly. “So, about the poem. Do you think it’s good enough for my presentation?”

“For Uni? Yeah, of course. Anything you’d pick is good enough, babe. You have your way with words, and you recited it very beautifully.”

“You think?” You beamed at his words, and he nodded. “Thank you, Channie. I really really like it, but I was afraid it wasn’t appropriate.”

“No, it is. You can use it.”

“If the lyrical genius says so, it must be true.” You stood up briefly and kissed his cheek, before returning to your seat and starting eating the pasta.

~

God, how many years ago was that?

Chris bursts out crying for the millionth time this month, and grabs the headstone with both his hands, feeling his knees grow weak.

On the brink of collapse, he uses your gravestone for support as he weeps louder.

“Can’t you come back?” He asks, his voice shaking. “Please. Please come back. Please. I… I promise I’ll do better, hm? I promise I’ll no longer stay as late in the studio, so please… please…”

The headstone can’t support him enough when his hands go weak as well, and he falls to his knees right in front of the poem.

“If only – If only I’d left with you that night. If only we hadn’t fought. God… please, please come back. We still have to make up.”

He cries for what feels like hours, and his body grows cold.

“Please… please…” He forces out again. “Come back… come back… we have so much we want to do… come back… I need… I need more time with you, please. Please.”

And he cries again.

And again.

And again, until he feels a hand on his shoulder a while later, and he turns his head around hopeful, thinking you might’ve somehow heard his pleas and returned to him.

His expression falls as he sees Seungmin looking concerned at him, and then he frowns even more noticing the pathetic way he looks in his eyes’ reflection.

Seungmin falls to the ground next to Chan, hugging his side tightly. Then, he helps him stand up and balance on his feet.

Chris is grateful for Stray Kids being there for him, but he just wishes… it would’ve been you standing next to him instead of Seungmin.

---

Depression

---

Chris has never experienced such an intense fatigue before. Every part of his body hurts, and it’s like his muscles are screaming at him each time he stands up. He is lethargic and looks haggard and in desperate need of rest, but rest doesn’t come by too easily as of late.

It’s 5AM and he’s in the studio again, but instead of doing anything productive, like finishing up that song he’s started working on two months ago that he keeps beating himself up for, he watches how beautiful you looked in the picture on his desk.

You used to be so full of life and so gorgeous. Your smile could make anyone happy, and your laugh – God, how much he misses your laugh.

He misses your voice.

Sometimes, he can’t even remember what it sounds like, and he thinks it’s absurd; it hasn’t been that long since you passed. Only about a year. He shouldn’t forget it so soon.

He grabs his phone and manually types the digits to your number. He still hasn’t forgotten it, and with how deep it’s been ingrained in his memory, he doesn’t think he ever will.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

He hasn’t cried in some time while thinking of you, but now, he’s on the verge of tears again. You used to sound so carefree.

You used to be so happy.

He doesn’t know when he started referring to you in past tense, but as soon as the realisation hits him, he lets a couple of tears stain his cheeks.

Chris is tired. He hasn’t slept in… God knows how many days. He’s always had trouble sleeping, but nowadays, his insomnia has been getting worse and worse. His doctor prescribed him some pills that are supposed to help, but he can’t even be bothered to take them anymore. They don’t help him rest anyway. If he takes them, he wakes up confused, disoriented, and with an even worse headache.

His phone is still in his hand and his finger brushes over his screen. He didn’t have the heart to change his lockscreen picture. It’s still you.

He hasn’t seen you in what feels like years. The first few months when he’d been haunted by your ghost were tough, but now that he hasn’t seen any glimpse of you in months, day to day life is getting harder and harder to navigate.

You don’t even visit him in his dreams anymore, on the seldom nights he sleeps. If he takes the small white pills, he doesn’t dream of anything, and he so desperately wants to see you again, to touch you, that he refuses to take them. That’s the other reason he doesn’t.

Fuck, this is hard.

Are you supposed to feel so devastated after a whole year?

Back then, years passed by so quickly – it meant comeback after comeback, work, work and more work, and time with you was scarce but very appreciated. Time used to fly, and without him knowing how much time passed, you’ve celebrated your 5th anniversary. He was planning to propose to you soon. He was looking at rings, but then you…

Time doesn’t pass by as quickly anymore. This year stretched for so long, it felt like a decade instead of barely 12 months. With each passing month, it was like nothing was changing at all for Chris, but now, looking back, everything feels different.

He’s a completely different person than the one that was staying in the studio up until 5 AM last year, and he blames himself so, so much for his unchanging bad habits.

He blames himself for your death still. It’s his fault, and this thought only makes him more hopeless and more depressed.

He’s lost weight. A lot of it, to the point where the company had to have an ‘intervention’. Whereas last year his body was toned, his abs perfectly sculpted and his form admirable, he now looks like a ghost of himself.

If he eats, his stomach immediately starts hurting. He threw up 3 times this week alone.

Your death still has such a big emotional toll on him, and he’s tried it all. He went to therapy. He still goes four times a week at his company’s requests. He’s on medication that makes him groggy and unable to think, medication that shut down all his feelings – not just the negative ones. He is numb, and when he isn’t, he feels utterly devastated and lost.

What is he supposed to do now, without you?

How come a year has already passed without you by his side? He’s even contradicting himself. Sometimes he feels that the year passed by slowly, and sometimes he looks back and doesn’t understand how he was able to live a whole year without you.

He needs you.

Fuck, he needs you so much, he still can’t believe he even insinuated that horrible night that he didn’t.

Life no longer has any purpose, and everyone around him is growing more concerned by the day, as this once optimistic man has left together with you, leaving in his place only a pessimistic, desperate person.

He realised how badly he wants to die exactly 6 months ago, when your sudden disappearance finally started sinking in for real. When he stopped bargaining with God or with whatever cruel higher power there might be in the sky to let you come back, even if just for 10 minutes, for enough time for him to kiss and hug you and tell you how much he’s missing you.

6 months ago, he started decorating his thighs with unsightly marks, some of them faded, other fresh. He can’t do it anywhere else, no matter how much he’d wished to cut his wrists open, for fear of anyone else noticing.

So, he takes his despair out on his poor thighs, pressing the small blade against his skin until he feels something, anything. Until blood starts pouring down and the shower’s water pools down at his feet completely red.

He winces in pain every time he does it, but at least he feels something different than the numbness that grows bigger and bigger in his heart, consuming everything in its way. His whole soul feels absorbed by it, crushed under the pressure.

On the rare occasions he’s not numb, he feels the immense grief your absence left. He now knows that you’ve not only taught him how to love, but also how it is to lose what you love, and it hurts. It’s excruciating, and his heart is being ripped apart still, each and every time he thinks of you, and your absence is tearing him apart from the inside out.

He is physically sick. His headaches are worse than ever. He can’t sleep. He can’t eat. He can’t do anything anymore. He doesn’t want to, either.

The only thing he wants is to die, but even this wish feels selfish. He sees the way his friends look at him, how they’re walking on eggshells around him, to not somehow mention anything that could trigger a bigger depressive episode than what he’s already going through. He only pushes through it because of them, because he knows how it feels to lose someone you truly love, and he doesn’t want them to have to live with this black hole in their chests.

But… the loneliness he feels is simply merciless. It’s pouring down on him like unyielding unforgiving rain, not showing him any pity, and so he tries to fills his days with something that would make him forget about the gap in his soul.

The company let him come back to work a while ago, but they didn’t plan any comeback for Stray Kids for the time being, nor are they planning any for the near future. He’s grateful they’re giving him time, because he’s in no shape or form ready to do anything, not when he’s withdrawn himself so much from everything he used to love.

It’s difficult to compose any up-beat songs, or any song, for that matter. It used to come naturally for him, but not anymore. Changbin and Jisung are doing their best to support him and make up for his lack of concentration, but it feels like he’s not bringing anything to the table anymore.

He’s missed practice over and over again. The Kids meet up every two days to dance to their older songs, and as they don’t have anything new to work with, they even started learning the dances of other popular songs, or creating choreographies that would fit western music. Chan never went. He stopped dancing 12 months ago, and he hasn’t even stepped in the practice room since you died, not even once.

He hasn’t sung since you died either, and no one said anything about it. No one blamed him at all. Not even his company, who he was sure was going to fire him in the first 6 months after your death.

They said they trust him, and that they’re going to give him as much time as he needs to recover. They talk about him like he’s sick, but he’s not sick. They don’t seem to understand that.

He’s not sick, he’s just devastated, and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to be able to live again, to sing and dance on stage and to work hard, because this is no longer his dream.

He only dreams of death, and the thoughts of it are the only ones bringing him any solace. His therapist said he needs more time, and he quoted Lois Tonkin more times than he can count. He said that life will soon begin to grow bigger around grief, and that the intense sadness he’s feeling is just another expression of love for you. One that is permanent, but that will diminish as time passes and as he starts enjoying life again.

He doesn’t believe any of it, though.

How could he begin to enjoy life again, with you not there by his side?

---

Acceptance

---

He met someone.

For the first time in years, he felt genuine happiness again.

It took him one more year to start reengaging in some of his older hobbies and in his work. He started gradually going to the gym with Changbin and Lee Know, and eventually felt ready to start dancing and singing again. Another year later, he was ready to get back on stage and face all his fans, who’ve thankfully shown an unwavering support of his journey with grief.

He started feeling a bit better, and even though you were on his mind all the time, he was no longer dwelling on the pain of the loss of you. Your memory started bringing him more happiness, and he started looking fondly at all the sweet moments you’ve both shared together.

He started appreciating being able to have met you, to have lived 5 beautiful years next to you, and even though he still feels it is unfair that you’ve been taken away from him so cruelly and way too early, he no longer blames himself.

He still regrets the argument you had on the night you passed away, but he started slowly coming to terms with the fact that there was nothing he could do about it anymore, no way to take his words back. He started accepting that this is the one regret he’s going to have to take to his grave with him.

It took him one more year to start embracing life again, to start looking forward to his future with Stray Kids and to start actively making plans. He realised there was so much more he wanted to accomplish, and his dreams started coming back to him little by little, with the support of his friends and family.

He’s met her two years later.

When it happened, he was still not ready to give love a second chance. He thought it was way too soon, that he was disrespecting you by catching feelings for someone else. He felt like he was emotionally cheating on you.

He decided it’s time to join a support group at the recommendation of his friend, and he’s met a lot of people of all ages: some younger than him, some way older. The way they spoke about their former partners warmed up his heart, and they made him realise that loving again is not an affront to your memory. He can still keep loving you while loving someone else as well. He can still honour your memory.

He opened up to her, and he’s told her all about you. She wanted to know who you were, and she even visited your grave with him, holding his hand and talking to you at your gravestone. She told you she loves him and thanked you for being there for him while you were still alive, for giving him precious memories to hold onto.

She apologized for life being so unfair and taking you away from Chris so abruptly, and she assured you she’s going to take care of him to the best of her abilities.

She was really patient with him. She gave him as much time as he needed to come to terms with his feelings. He let him set the pace on what he was comfortable with doing. The first time they slept together was after more than one year of dating, but she didn’t mind waiting for as long as he felt necessary.

She loved him, and he loved her.

He proposed to her almost two years later, and they welcomed a child one year after their wedding.

He visited your grave on your 10th death anniversary with his son in his stroller, a baby boy he’s given your favourite name. You were still present in his thoughts, and his love for you never subsided.

He now simply has additional people to love and to grow old with, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss you still.

~

He decided to visit your grave again, even if walking has become a bit too difficult. Still, he manages the way from the car until your grave just fine, even if he has to support himself with a crane.

He is now old enough to be called ‘grandpa’, and not just as a joke between him and his friends. His hands are shaking, and his legs are a bit wobbly; his face is adorned with deep lines and creases, his forehead is wrinkly, and each fine line contributes to his now years-long life and experiences. The skin dropped around his cheeks, but every lady in the nursing home assures him he’s still a handsome man.

Your grave is no longer as tidy and beautifully adorned with fresh flowers. The soil has been overtaken by weeds and is in dear need of cleansing. He hasn’t visited in a while, unfortunately, his health issues making it a tad too hard, and with your parents long gone, there is no one else to take care of your resting place.

He makes a mental note to hire someone to clean it up and plant some flowers, but for the time being, he simply sets the bouquet of rose peonies in the small, chipped vase next to your headstone.

The inscription in the once immaculate marble is no longer as visible, but he doesn’t need to read it in order to recognise Immortality by Clare Harner. He still remembers the poem by heart, and also all sorts of other small, insignificant things, like your old phone number that’s been disconnected decades ago.

He looks at your smiling picture, the one he took when you’ve just graduated from university, and he realises as if for the first time how young you were.

He’s grown old; he has multiple wrinkles, his skin sagged everywhere, and his body went through each transformation it was supposed to when advancing in years.

But you?

You’ve stayed young. You’ve stayed beautiful, cheerful, smiling. Your face stayed clear of any creases.

You’ve remained just as he remembers you.

You are immortal.

“I’m sorry for not coming in a while.” He speaks with a soft smile on his face.

“That’s fine. You are probably very tired.”

He swears he could hear your voice. Maybe the poem is right, and the whispers of the wind transform in your saccharine voice he’s so dearly missed.

“I’m truly sorry for what I’ve said.” He continues, feeling the need to apologize again for his harsh words that night. No matter how many years have passed and how many time he’s already apologised, he’s never forgiven himself.

“But I’ve forgiven you long ago.” The wind whispers, and he closes his eyes and nods his head.

“I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. I hope you know that.”

“I know.” The sunlight caresses his back, warming him up as the wind strengthens. “And I’m waiting for you, whenever you’re ready to meet me, my love.”

~The End~

---

(A/N)  Obligatory song: 11 minutes by Halsey and YUNGBLUD.

When my best friend showed me this song, I immediately fell in love with the concept of the music video, that’s based on the five stages of grief. I thought to myself that I simply must write a story like this, but of course, that was months ago and I’ve completely forgotten about it, as I usually do with most random ideas that come to mind that I don’t write down lol.

I couldn’t really sleep for the past few nights, so my mind kept brewing ideas and scenarios to keep me busy and hopefully lull me to sleep.

It didn’t work, because the five stages of grief came to mind and I knew I had to immediately write a story about it and not let the idea go this time, so I got out of bed at like 6:30 am and wrote and wrote on and off for a total of 13 hours, until this 10k words of pure despair have been created.

I hope you enjoyed it even though it probably sent you spiralling into depression. Thank you for reading nonetheless!

Love,

Storm

#stray kids #straykids #stray kids masterlist #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #bang chan #bang chan imagines #stray kids angst #stray kids scenarios #skz stay #stay #changbin #skz #han jisung #wattpad #ao3 #ao3 writer #fanfiction #fanfic #bang chan angst #angst #hurt/comfort #hyunjin #jisung #lee know #seungmin #felix #no fluff #no comfort #pain and suffering

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, 2/18 “Back In The Saddle” (more glorious filler) Part 1

The episode begins with an uninteresting Friday Night Dinner intro that has nothing worth writing about, except we see Richard again, and I feel like I haven't seen Richard in a really long time. (This is a Richard-centric episode, which is fine with me).

They fixed the Tomatos Sign? Say it ain't so!

Oh, the other chalkboard.

I recommend you all look up a woman named Valerie Campbell on TikTok or Instagram. She worked on the show and shares a lot of behind the scenes stories. I can’t seem to find this specific post again, but if you care to dig around yourself, she had a little story about the crew member that actually designed this sign.

I don't remember it being a particularly fascinating story, but if you want to hear the story of Sign Guy, go on and find Valerie.

Thinking about the time Rory took a slice of unbuttered unsyruped French toast on the run like it was a god damn pop tart. You weirdo.

LG: Look at the handwriting on that sign. It's so precise. So determined. It's focused Luke. RG: That's Jess' handwriting.

That tone of suspicion again. Sigh.

You know what, I won't pile on Lorelai too much for this comment, because it was lighthearted and not dripping with passive aggressive sauce for once. You win this round, Gilmore.

Couldn’t have killed you to throw in a “that’s so thoughtful/cute/sweet” or something though.

I love how blasé they are about their notions that either Luke or Jess could have such gorgeous handwriting. Neither of them are marveling even one bit over that skilled graphic design. Sad lack of shock, wonder, and awe.

Lorelai is very much NOT Team Jess and is actively trying to destroy this adorable friendship. Being a Lorelai and Literati supporter at the same time seems like a paradox of sorts? But hey, according to Tumblr, I'm just a big ol woman hater for saying Lorelai is evil. Continue, Lorelai. Lay some old fashioned Dean Lust on us. It's what the people want.

Rory looks thrilled to see ButtZilla.

Drop yourself off a bridge.

Lorelai: Please please please eat with us Dean!

So much said with so little in her tone of voice alone

From left to right: Wetting her pants in excitement to have Dean for breakfast/ thinking about covering his naked body in maple syrup; a man wondering if this will be one of the rarest of days when the Gilmores pay for their food; Hello Darkness My Old Friend; and Buttzilla.

I've got something you can eat, Dum Dum.

JOKES ON YOU BUTTZILLA! JESS WROTE THE SIGN! YOU'RE GONNA EAT AN OMELET THAT YOU ORDERED OFF A SIGN THAT JESS WROTE!

Mind your own business, AssButt. Your necklace is stupid and so are you. Your mother doesn't love you.

"Next time I get you all alone I'm going to give you SUCH a spanking, young man."

Poor put-upon Brad. One day, Brad will rule the world, and the peasants will be sorry. Our usual Chilton crew that consists of Rory, Paris, Madelyn, Louise, Brad, and one rando (some 30 Year Old Archie looking dude) are gearing up for a Business Fair. They have to invent a product appealing to high schoolers. Rory is the CEO, and they have an imaginary 1 million dollars to imaginary market/produce/and distribute it. They also have to find a responsible adult to be their "business advisor". Richard will eventually join them and muck things up. Everyone else's negligent dads are too busy working and Rory's deadbeat dad Crusty is off somewhere trying to impregnate some chick named Sherry and wouldn't know how to Business if his life depended on it, so Richard it is. But this is the 2000s, so surely someone's mother could also have business experience?

Paris and Madelyn suggest Rory's mom, seeing as she "Runs a hotel", but the girls wouldn't know that Rory's mom regularly leaves her shift in the middle of the day to do things like look at coffins. Not a good role model. Joyous filler nonsense.

Rory: LOL yeah I guess. Let’s have someone look at Lorelai’s “books”. The Independence Inn and Stars Hollow are both an accountant's wet dream.

I neglected to include Brad in my poll of Gilmore Girls characters whose quietly bubbling anger will one day no longer stay contained until they snap and murder somebody.

She's definitely not, but Paris threatens her so Rory promises to ask her anyway.

The people of Stars Hollow are incredibly angry and violent. Don't let their sweet faces fool you. Try to take away their coffee or twinkle lights, or fuck up their wedding invitations, and you'll be sorry.

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #denise rewatches gilmore girls #jess mariano #literati #gilmore girls season 2 #filler episode #I am an equal opportunity hater #when I did this on Twitter this 15 year old girl was always in my mentions trying to tell me that criticizing Rory meant I hate women #its a tale as old as time honestly #jokes on her I like Rory now #its satire #back in the saddle

[toodrasticallydumb]

20 questions for fic writers

Oh! Hello! I was tagged by @pinkytoothlesso11 ! Thanks for thinking of me pinky! I’m kinda new to the whole fanfic scene so i really appreciate it! This was already a long list of questions to begin with but i fear i may have made it worse…

OH WELL HAVE FUN SPORT :}>

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Unfortunately just 2, though I do plan to add a few more in the future as ideas flow. Might take me a minute ‘cause my schedule is just a little bit kinda sorta really swamped down with my main child which requires let me you, A LOT OF CARE DONT SIGN UP TO ADOPT KIDS PEOPLE IT’S NOT—

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Phew. ummmm it changes very rapidly (because i’m a girl w suspected adhd and can NEVER be told to shut up) with every chapter but as of this moment is 228,665! wow! i don’t really know how great of a number that is but i’m sure it’s a lot! I told you I can never shut up! (-whispers- Hey kid, u want some dRuGs? i mean- an update? That itty bitty word count is about to take another not regularly scheduled mini-skyrocket so get ready for it ehehe ;})

3. What fandoms do you write for?

For now, just Trollhunters/Tales of Arcadia, mainly Trollhunters despite the fact that the first of the Tales of Arcadia shows that i watched and really enjoyed was actually 3-Below, but oh well my man is in Trollhunters sooooo oopsie but i DO have some random snippets of fics for Miraculous (rewrite), the Star Wars sequels (rewrite), Batman, some for the Dream SMP, and weirdly enough also Raya and the Last Dragon (rewrite). All of which i prolly wont ever post because i wrote them a while ago and yeaaaahhh not my best writing but if i get enough people other than my best friend wanting me to post them, i might…

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

uhhhh i dont actually HAVE five fics to my name, so i’ll just…put em in order (w their long-ahh title names):

Trollhunter!Strickler: Destiny's Ill-fitted Chosen

'A MiStAkE' because I haven't updated in ages--A Stricklake month 2023 prompt collection

but i am so happy for the people who have left so many kudos on my work it really warms mah little heart ❤️

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. At first, I sorta struggled with it (who the heck am i kidding i STILL do) but since my fic USED to be two times a week updates i would feel like i couldn’t respond to a comment left after i posted a new chapter so i might’ve left some comments in the earlier days unanswered, super sorry. Nowadays i make it a point to reply back to everyone in the order that they commented in because (anxiety makes me think if i don’t respond they won’t comment anymore and know that i love reading their comments and that they’re so amazing for actually taking the time to write something back AND I DO LOVE IT I PROMISE IT JUST TAKES ME A WHILE TO RESPOND—) …because it’s pretty chill to geek out w em and see they liked stuff that i loved to write! I do have a backlog of comments to get to i just end up overthinking everything to match the person’s energy to be sure they know i love em.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Unfortunately, i haven’t actually finished a fully-fledged fic to say it has the angstiest ending bUt definitely a contender would be chapter 1 of my 2023 Stricklake prompt collection because i just leave it on the sad note and don’t do anything about it because angst and because spoilers for my actual story fic that will eventually make it to that point.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Happiest ending, huh? I like to say that most of the things i will/have chosen to write end happy/hopeful because i hate when books/tv shows end bittersweetly it’s like i have enough with life itself being bittersweet most of the time let me be happy LET THEM BE HAPPY. But that doesn’t exclude me from providing the proper banquet of angst that ends in caretaking, my absolute favorite trope.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Oh heck no. I would be devastated honestly, but thankfully everyone who comments is always the sweetest and kindest people ever and really encourage me to keep going, for that i am only thankful.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No. Just no. I love romance but i am a minor, so i’ve never consumed smut nor intend to ever write it. Give me a soft romance and loving gestures, I can allude to greater happenings but not details.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I don’t, sorry. I don’t know something in me just doesn’t sit well with crossovers, for the life of me I don’t know why. Like genuinely i wish i could get into them but maybe it’s like food on a plate? i don’t like the foods touching each other so maybe the same rules apply??? yeah i’m drasticallydumb

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that i know of, no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t believe so, and if someone did they’re in for a heck of a lot of work there…

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! I’d like to sometime but i have no idea how one even goes about making a co-written fic, on top of which i am a very sporadic person in terms of motivation and random ideas produced by a song i’m listening to while writing.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Stricklake obviously is a really big contender if not the winner, the ship that brought me to AO3, writing fanfics, and tumblr. But, if i had to pick other options i’d say Eugene and Repunzel from Tangled would be one of my ogs, another might be uhhh Chris and Aviva from Wild Kratts the og of the ogs.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Chapter 3 of my stricklake 2023 prompt collection, it just has a lot of moving parts and me and my best friend are chronic procrastinators and with the month pretty far gone it might just end up sittin’ there for the foreseeable future 😞 but who knows

16. What are your writing strengths?

Phew, that’s a dozy mainly because i’m not super sure. I’d like to think one of my main strengths is descriptions and really putting you in the mind of the character, i don’t really like spelling things out and i like a little investigating to get you where u end up, u know? I like to think my writing FEELS a little more like a show on a page rather than a true book, most to blame would be my maladaptive daydreaming taking up a lot of time in my planning for my writing.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Ah. How the turn tables. I would say that my weaknesses in writing mostly consist of me going a little *too* far into detail on meaningless things or making it too convoluted for people to understand, sometimes spelling it out is better in certain scenarios and i just really need to get myself past that. Another one i would say is that i go REALLY into detail not only in a sentence/chapter sense but also a complete STORYLINE sense, i hate time skips and i shoot myself in the foot wanting to completely document every moment of everyday w a character and hence it seems like a lot of time in universe hasn’t gone by. Trying to improve and grow tho 💪

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Can’t wait to do more of it! Especially with Claire and her family (including NotEnrique) speaking spanglish w each other automatically mainly because i am hispanic and completely fluent in Spanish and live in a similar household so i just love to add a little ✨personalization✨ to my dialogue and interactions in that way. Other languages………….yeaaaahhh i’m not super good will prolly use google translate and hope.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Trollhunters, my gateway into AO3. HOWEVER. if you promise not to tell, the very first fandom i read/wanted to write a fanfic for was actually, as far as i can tell, Wordgirl. don’t ask why. don’t ask me how. it just kinda happened. But, officially, it’s Trollhunters. (maybe with a side of Warrior Cats).

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Not hard at all! My pride and joy, my youngest baby in the grand scheme of my writing journey, Trollhunter!Strickler: Destiny's Ill-fitted Chosen! A surprise to absolutely NO ONE. It’s honestly so amazing to both write and see people read and enjoy as much as I do, he’s my little man ❤️ And doing so much rewriting and character growth and having so much written and planned for the future, it’s just my absolute fav

#toa trollhunters #barbara lake #stricklake #strickler #toa #long post #trollhunters #fanfic #Destiny’s Ill-fitted Chosen #stricklake month #questions #tagged #ao3 #tales of arcadia #ask answers #ask games #fan fiction #writing games #yeaaaaahhhhh i may have made this way to long #but you get to know me so hopefully it’s worth it! :}}} #love to get to know everyone else who responds to pinky’s tag too #i am about to make my great return to posting mildly often on tumblr #i think #i hope. #or maybe this is one of those outbursts that happens once a blue moon and then i disappear of the face of the earth #gotta keep y’all on ya toes.

[heartstringsduet]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag @theghostofashton @ladytessa74 @reyesstrand @orchidscript @alrightbuckaroo @liminalmemories21 @strandnreyes @welcometololaland @jesuisici33 @freneticfloetry 💗

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

42 (lol)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

315,562. (But I have 230k+ unpublished with plans to post it)

3. What fandoms do you write for

911 Lone Star right now though I have a long Glee fic still almost finished and never uploaded.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Danger Zone 2. In good hands 3. No Need To (Glee fic) 4. A Heart with New Skin 5. In order to keep you

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

It's my favorite thing (after reading the comments)!!! I simply love getting long rambley replies to my comments on other fics and I want to give the same thoughful reply to comments if I can. Comments mean so much, I want to give back. 💕

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Glances at my Glee fics...uhm. Yeah I don't shy away from ambigious endings but I feel like the Tarlos fandom would have my head lol. But hey there is In your corner that does have a pretty sad foreboding ending (but it's part of a series so it doesn't really count)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Maybe The kind you can't get away from and you could say there is multiple happy endings in In the dark ;)))

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Only unkind 'criticism'

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh almost always sprinkle it in if it fits. I mean I have a whole D/s series I guess you can tell what kind I write.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't and don't really like them.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nein. And I definitely don't want to translate my own.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet but planning to. I think collaborating can be so fun. <3 Anyone hit me up and we'll see if we can work something out.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

For now it's Tarlos. Still get giggly watching Klaine scene and reading Kurtbastian scenes and find other on-screen couples cute but never go crazy about them like I did for those.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The WIP of how Carlos feels about Owen and then how TK feels about Gabriel.

16. What are your writing strengths?

................I write daily? Like I don't hate my writing at all, I'm proud of it, but not sure one thing sticks out above anything else. Decent smut? idk.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sticking to a single theme. I have so many ideas I want to follow and then I do only to realize.....nope that doesn't work. I'm very intuitive as a writer which is a lot of fun but not necessarily lends itself to good story arcs or good storytelling.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I personally like it a lot. I even like googling to find out what it says if there's no translation.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Naruto. But in German.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Weirdly enough the Kurtbastian fic I wrote for Nanowrimo last year and now is 100k gathering dust because Tarlos took over my life. But I think I romantice it because it was the first writing I had done in 6 years and I fell back in love with writing. I'm sure I have better fics. I'm also really proud of The kind you can't get away from and Take my hand take my whole life too

Sorry I competely lost track of who did it. So if you want to participate I tag you lovely soul

#michelle was tagged #michelle rambles #thanks peeps you are all so wonderful

[ruthytwoshakes]

Art licensing info and bio below.

Howdy

Im RuthyTwoShakes, Ruth for short .nice ta meet tcha ! Also known as Daffoduck or Daffysbrainrot. I draw war criminals and beautiful ladies. (most often they are both.) sometimes fluffy dog people n other stuff! My blog is called TwoShakes, would be weird NOT to have furry art lol. autism furry dyke adhd disabled transgerederr individual, your typical tf2 player basically . It/its. But beautiful babes can use whatever pronouns they want helllll yeahh

I like talking a lot and it looks and sounds strange, not very good at responding to anything, but I appreciate every comment I get :D ALSO HEY IF YOU HAVE A TF2 EVENT YOU WANT ARTISTS FOR OR A FUN ART COLLAB THING reach out!!, I do not bite except for when I do but I cannot bite you for you are in my phone. ASK BOX IS OPEN ALL THE TIME TOO GIVE ME IDEAS AND I MIGHT JUST FORGET ABOUT HTME!!!

Wanna Use my Art?

some rights reserved - CC BY-SA 4.0 Deed (Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International)

You are free to:

Share — copy and redistribute the material in any medium or format for any purpose, even commercially.

Adapt — remix, transform, and build upon the material for any purpose, even commercially.

The licensor cannot revoke these freedoms as long as you follow the license terms.

Under the following terms:

Attribution — You must give appropriate credit , provide a link to the license, and indicate if changes were made . You may do so in any reasonable manner, but not in any way that suggests the licensor endorses you or your use.

ShareAlike — If you remix, transform, or build upon the material, you must distribute your contributions under the same license as the original.

No additional restrictions — You may not apply legal terms or technological measures that legally restrict others from doing anything the license permits.

This work by  RuthyTwoShakes is licensed under Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International

if you’d like to make fanwork of my characters, redesigns, or stories, I’d be honored! Please send it to me so that I can see your wonderful creation :3

Current Projects:

• TF2 Horse Land (yeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeah!!) sketches are done! Horses will come soon. not actual Horse land btw it was actually super racist https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/732184080892002304/sneak-peaks-at-a-new-project-teehee-turndeed-them#notes

• TF2 Class Swap - sketches are done! Just gotta figure out how to add a little more flair to their outfits. https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/722513284945805313/howdy-everyone-i-got-super-inspired-by

• MissFire AMV(s) - not even close to finishing whoopsies sorry lesbians https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/731001880846729216/bonus-sketch-hehe

• Kid Fortress Au - hough. Got so many idea in brain. No time. So sad https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/731960714323001344/think-i-forgot-to-post-this-before-but-boom-kid

• TF2 Face Studies - https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/731316033133150208/howdy-homos-heres-some-studys-i-started-back

• TF2 Girlmode - teehee my first ever project. Should really finish it. https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/708138916429070336/hey-i-made-the-tf2-but-women-i-love-tf2-ggrgsgdg https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/711305702595018752/women-and-pyro-and-pauling-i-love

TF2 OCS

• Glider - my boys,, love both of them so much. (Oldest to newest order) https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/716061402526269440/everyone-alert-little-weird-man-alert https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/716224290162360320/jump-scare-jump-scare-1000-nightmares-forever-oh https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/730031866599669760/raaaaaa-thank-you-qucihee-male-living-space

Completed Projects:

• silly gay tf2 memes: Trans Fems https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/708546538842030080/figured-i-should-make-one-for-trans-mascs-too https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/708579375961030656/its-nonbinerey-time-when-the-non-binary-said-its https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/708640313249513473/l-e-s-b-i-a-n-s-didnt-add-anything-else-because https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/708770670835892224/oh-yeaaah-mu-lu-mu-time-men-the https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/729823820963250176/sup-bro-your-pic-of-soldier-saluting-the

• TF2 Wrist Health Poster - https://daffysbrainrot.tumblr.com/post/730095606308208640/howdy-everybody-i-loved-captainhanyuus-wrist

Important tags:

daffys drawings - all my old art yay!!!!!!!!!!!!

ruths doodles - all my current art :3

Ruths Artfight - artfight hooray

Epic TF2 Projects

#daffys drawings #Daffys Artfight 2023 #ruths doodles #Ruths Artfight

[nowdoyoungknows]

Pairing/s: neighbor!doyoung x fem!reader

Genre/warning/s: heavy fluff, heavy angst, divorced doyoung, strangers to lovers kind of au, single female reader, mentions of deep sadness, mentions of cheating (PLEASE DO NOT CHEAT), mentions of food and alcohol, contains green jokes, flirting, cringey humor, lame story, slight makeout.

Summary: You fell in love with your neighbor, Doyoung, who is still on the stage of sadness and denial of his divorce/broken marriage.

Note: This is the part 2. I was intended to post it as one but text doesn't fit so I have to divide it. I apologize for the grammatical and spelling errors. Unedit. Do not take this plot seriously. Thank you.

Part 1 • Part 2

The next day came and it's time for Doyoung to fake his emotion once he stepped out of his apartment. He has to pretend that he didn't bawl in tears the previous night. Here he is now at the elevator together with you who greeted him like the usual friendly you, also faking as if you are unbothered by your discovery last night.

Doyoung fished something from his pocket, a familiar hello kitty sticky note. "Is the number written yours? He opened the topic which earned a mental slap from yourself. Shit. You almost forgot that you wrote your number on that sticky note and inserted that to the carton handle of the donut. You wished he never brought that issue up. 'Oh no! Did he get in trouble with his wife because of that?' you nervously thought. 'Did I ruin their marriage?'

You gave a nervous laugh and replied. "Don't take that seriously. Just forget that, will you? I was just trolling." He simply nodded and ignored you after. You assumed he bought your excuse.

Your annoying staff in your cafe is not helping your case because of their constant teasing about you trying to flirt with the bank manager guy yesterday. These kids will never let you live in peace.

"The bank manager guy." Haechan yelled that caused you to panic and fix yourself. The boys giggled that made you confused until you realize that they were pranking you.

"Ha ha funny. Let's see if you can laugh if I don't give you your salary." You sarcastically replied.

The cafe is full of people and all of you are busy catering your customers until your phone buzzed. You find a right time to check your phone and boy you are surprised as hell at who messaged you.

"Hey. Can I order 6 iced americano, 5 glazed donuts and one cream cheese bread? I will pick it up later. This is Kim Doyoung by the way."

Doyoung texted you. He saved your phone number. You slapped yourself. "Get together y/n. He is married. He is not flirting with you. He texted you for the food. This is business." After scolding yourself, you prepared his order that made one of your staff, Jeno, confused. "We didn't receive that order. To whom it is for?" He asked.

"Oh, Doyoung ordered it. He texted me." You replied which earned a nod from Jeno who is making the coffee. "Maybe he doesn't want to fall in line. There are lots of people."

People inside the cafe has slowly left, the place became less busy and more quiet. All of you are on stand by and waiting for customers until the bell chimed. Six men arrived including Doyoung. You quickly served the food that Doyoung ordered in advance. "Enjoy your meals." You said politely before leaving them alone to eat and do your job but eyes not leaving to the man you admire.

On the other hand, you have no idea that you are the topic of these men, specifically teasing Doyoung. "So she is the one hitting on you?" One of his colleagues and good friend named Kun asked Doyoung while looking at your direction.

"She is cute not gonna lie. She looks like a doll." Johnny commented.

"Because she is short?" Taeil gave a remark at Johnny's statement.

"She looks like the opposite of Jo—" Jungwoo was cut off by Taeyong, scolding him not to mention Doyoung's ex-wife as their friend is trying to move on. Jungwoo uttered an apology.

"Seriously Doyoung, you should start dating again and not give a damn about your ex." Johnny advised seriously. "Don't waste the opportunity. The fish is already swimming towards you, you don't even need to wait to catch some." He added pertaining to you.

"I'm not ready to let her go..." Doyoung replied honestly, sadness is evident.

"Bro... we are truly worried about you. You have lowered yourself too much for her when she clearly doesn't care about your feelings. She never treated you right, always acting as if you are just her personal assistant, her servant." Taeyong lectured. "I get the treat your wife like a queen but what you are doing is too much. You did everything for her but what did you get in return?" He didn't mention it but everyone knew what happened next. "Have some pity with yourself, you deserve someone who will reciprocate the love and kindness that you are giving."

"Just drink your sadness away and forget your stupid ex-wife. You are single now, don't be afraid to flirt. Celebrate your freedom." Jungwoo excited screamed which earned a slap to his hand from Kun this time.

"What drink are you talking about? Remember, you get wasted easily and you pass out. We're struggling to go home because of you." Kun scolded him.

Doyoung is thankful of his friends and their concern towards him. However, he isn't sure if he is ready to enter a new relationship at this point. His divorce is still fresh at least in his part. Besides, he always feel guilty whenever he looks at his wedding portrait. They are no longer together but why does he feel like cheating on his ex-wife whenever he smiles because of other women, especially you.

Your staff and you are cleaning the cafe, preparing to go home when one of your employee, Chenle, started to gossip. "Hey have you heard the conversation between bank manager guy and his friends? I heard something about divorce."

"Chenle, you're so nosy." Jisung remarked.

"I can't help it. They are too loud." Chenle rebutted.

"Yeah I heard it. Bank manager guy is divorced." Jaemin added, joining the gossip.

"Y/n, you said he is married, right?" Renjun asked you.

You are completely shocked at the information you heard recently. Doyoung's friends are too loud, you also unintentionally listened to their conversation. You are sure he is married as you saw their wedding portrait in his living room. Since when did they separated? Is that the reason why his wife is nowhere to be seen?

Two months since you moved in, your friendship with your neighbor, Doyoung has pretty much improved. You two had developed a habit of drinking your morning coffee at your respective balconies, having short conversation. You are careful enough not to bring up his divorce as you pictured Doyoung's voice talking about it with his friends at the cafe. He looked miserable and you respect his personal space and his feelings. You also habitually bringing him your cream cheese bread which became his favorite the moment he first tasted it.

One day when you are having your usual morning coffee, you confessed your feelings to him, early in the morning. You are actually brave in doing this maybe because you are not expecting any answer in return. You genuinely just want him to know that there is someone who love him and care for him, that he deserved to be important in someone's life, that he is not an option, that someone is loyal and faithful to him. "I like you...no I love you since I saw you. I'll be loyal to you, I promise."

"Thank you." Doyoung simply replied out of politeness.

Doyoung is currently watching his favorite series when he received a call from an unknown number. He accepted the call and few minutes later he is stumbling at his front door, wearing his shoes. He doesn't even bother changing his jogging pants and hoodie and just proceeded to the parking lot, drove to the place where you are currently in. The time he arrived, he quickly asked the reception which they guide you to where you are.

There you are on the emergency, your big scrap on your knees being treated by the nurse. Your eyes spotted Doyoung's tall figure so you waved at him with a smile on his face as if you hadn't been into a minor accident. "Hi Doyoung!"

The moment he saw you, he ran towards you and he started scolding you. "What happened to you? Are you alright? Is there any major injury aside from this scrap?" You didn't reply, instead you are grinning from ear to ear. Doyoung is worried of you, he sounds like a boyfriend to you, a husband to be exact. When he received no answer from you, he looked at you, rolling his eyes as he saw you smiling like a fool. "Stop smiling. You look stupid."

Doyoung fixed everything before the doctor let you go home. Your scooter was brought to the mechanic for repair. A car bumped into you at the parking space near the cafe that caused you to fall. Fortunately, you didn't get any major operations that needed surgery but you had this bruise on your knee that made it difficult for you to walk. Doyoung drove you home and guided you in walking but saw you struggling and in pain, he squatted in front of you and motioned you to ride his back which you happily accepted.

While walking, you sniffed his laundry fresh hoodie. "You smell good." He commented.

"Stop sniffing me." He protested.

"Finally you spoke to me. You were silent the whole car ride. Why?" You said but he remained silent so you decided to tease him. "Ohhh. I know why. You were jealous of that male nurse who treated my wound." You started while wiggling your eyebrows. Doyoung rolled his eyes. "Keep dreaming."

"Awww. Don't be jealous. He is cute but you are the most handsome man in the world. You look like a model and you are cute too. I will never replace you." You pinched his cheeks. "You are my one and only." You sing sang the last sentence.

Doyoung groaned. "Stop it. I'm not jealous. Why would I?"

"I'm just kidding. You look so adorable, like a baby... my baby."

Your jokes are annoying and corny as hell but he is stupidly smiling at it but trying not to show it to you. You both arrived in front of your door, pressing the code, Doyoung carried you to your bedroom as your request. He laid you down and bid goodbye but you talked your last tease on him. "Where's my good night kiss?"

Doyoung walked towards you again but instead of a kiss, he gave you a light tap on your forehead. "Rest now. You're full of nonsense. Good night. See you tomorrow." Then left your apartment with a grin on his face.

Because of the minor accident, you are unable to use your scooter for it's on the repair shop. Although you have a wound in your knee, you need to be present in the shop because no one will guide your staff there so you insisted of going to work despite Doyoung protesting that you should rest for a day. Maybe putting him as your guardian and his phone number as the emergency number to call in the hospital is kind of a wrong idea because now Doyoung really acted as your parent rather than a husband of your dreams.

Being your stubborn self, you still insisted so he gave up. Instead, he offered to drive you to work then back at home since your work place are next to each other. Both your respective co-workers are teasing you and keep asking what's the real score.

"She loves you truly. I can see the way she looks at you." Out of nowhere, Taeyong talked.

"I know. She confessed months ago." Doyoung replied, eyes still glued at his computer, continuing his work.

"What did you do?" Taeyong was curious.

"Nothing. I didn't accept it but not reject it either. We're okay. No awkwardness." He answered.

Taeyong nodded and respected his choice. "I'm proud of you." He remarked. Which made Doyoung stopped what he was doing. "You are becoming lively since you started spending time with y/n. And didn't notice yourself, did you? You stopped your bad habit of stalking your ex-wife on Instagram."

It hit Doyoung hard just know. He never paid attention to his own self since the divorce even the most obvious one, he failed to see it. Is he improving at this point? He is unsure until now but he sure is improving because he found himself enjoying your company. Doyoung shut everything out at the process of his separation but this time, he is doing so. During his marriage with his ex-wife, he has no female friends for she doesn't let him and Doyoung doesn't want to give his wife a reason to lose her trust on him. Now, he is spending time with you.

Ever since the accident, Doyoung became your personal driver. He even accompanied you in grocery shopping. In return, he will have his dinner with you at your apartment, you will cook for him which he let you do since you love doing so and this serves as your appreciation to the kindness he is showing to you.

"You should sit down and let me cook the dinner." He commanded but you are stubborn and refused to listen to him.

"No. I'm in charge. Sit there and watch tv. I'm fine." You said in authority. "This is a wife duty." You added then chuckled at your own words.

Doyoung shook his head at your silliness. He knows you are making it seem like a joke but deep inside he feels like you mean it. But he is not ready, he doesn't even know if he could reciprocate the feelings. All he knows is he feels important when he is with you. Something he never felt before.

You took pictures of Doyoung while he is eating because he looks adorable when his cheeks are full. At first, Doyoung is being resistant but later gave up when he saw you squealing over the pictures plus he looks really cute. So he ended up giving you permission to post it and tag him.

"Let's take a selfie." You asked, your eyes twinkling.

"No. The pictures that you have taken is enough." He replied firmly but you keep poking his cheeks while whispering 'please' nonstop. "Okay fine but just one. If you didn't get it right, no more do-overs." He firmly requested which you agreed happily.

You aimed the camera in front of your faces. Doyoung prepared his smile and you counted from one to three but the moment you click the shutter button, you kissed him on his cheek, capturing the moment.

Doyoung has grown to be used to your antics like the blatant flirting and you casually clinging on him. He let you do that to him but this actually surprised him, the kiss. You are an element of surprise, never lack any tricks on your sleeves. You are something else, one of a kind. Are you really that in love with him?

"Don't worry. I'm not going to post it on social media if it makes you uncomfortable. I'm fine with keeping this to myself." You said in a calm manner, far from your hyper self. "I just get too excited. You are the first man I did this with. You are actually my first love." You confessed. "Don't judge me for being a late bloomer."

He nodded as a response and shortly after, he thanked you for the food before leaving. "Sleep rightaway and don't stay up late to play games." He warned you which you responded with a nod and smile, cheeks flushed in pink shade.

Two weeks have a passed and your knees are perfectly fine now so you can roam around your house freely and this is the right time for you to develop your new recipe that you might add in the menu if you perfected it.

You texted Doyoung rapidly after you finished baking which the man didn't replied, instead, he swiftly went to your apartment thinking some emergency happened to you but he was totally wrong. You were on your apron, looking like a mess because of flour, grinning at him widely. He panicked for no reason. "What?" Doyoung asked.

"I developed a new recipe. I want you to taste it first and give me an honest feedback and opinion about it." You explained.

Doyoung agreed to do it and took a bite of the bread, savor it while thinking what does he think. You waited for a response, hoping he will like it. Although you are open for the possibility that he might not like it, you are praying he would say something positive because you dedicated your work for him. "This is good. It is sweet but it is not something that people might get tired after eating it once. This is perfect, well-balanced. The cream cheese is sweet but the hint of mango jam made it less tiresome to eat."

You clapped your hand and thanked heavens Doyoung liked it. "Actually, it was inspired by you." You said honestly. "You are sweet and sour at the same time. You always scold me and tap my forehead but you are very kind to me and gentleman despite me being annoying." You poured your heart as you explained the reason behind the flavor. "And it is shaped like a bunny."

Doyoung was touched at your words. Never in a million years he would thought that someone would dedicate something for him. He never heard words from people he used to love that they were thinking of him when they work, he inspires them or something. This truly means a lot to him especially from someone who always think about themselves not being enough and not worthy of being loved. "Thank you. I appreciate it so much." He is truly grateful. It made his heart full.

While waiting for you to change clothes, he wandered his eyes around your apartment. It's very youthful, full of cartoon figurine as designs in the shelves but one thing stood out the most — the photo that you took during the dinner where you kissed him for the first time on the cheek, your first picture together, you actually printed and framed it.

"Should we watch movies now?" You suddenly appeared from your bedroom, wearing your pajamas and hoodie, similar to Doyoung's. You intended to buy one so you will look like a couple. You sat beside him and started the movie.

Thirty minutes in the movie and you are no longer paying attention on screen. Your eyes are glued at the face of the man beside you. Your eyes trailed from his eyes to nose then lips. You can't take it anymore so you tapped his shoulder that made him face and before he knew it, you moved closer to him gave a long peck on his lips. Your eyes are closed but it's the opposite of Doyoung's. His eyes are as wide as the owl's huge eyes.

Doyoung is having a battle inside his head whether to respond to the kiss or not. He doesn't to give you false hope by kissing you back if he is still contemplating who really are you to his life, what's your role in his life? Is he really in love or he just want to be spoiled by you because he never felt that with his ex-wife? With a heavy heard, he pushed you away from him and retreated to his apartment immediately, holding his chest as he closed the door.

You felt ashamed about what you did earlier. Here you are, screaming but suppressing it with your pillow, kicking the air. "This is so embarrassing. What am I thinking?" You are going crazy now but decided to sleep and hope for tomorrow not to be awkward between the two of you.

The next morning, you went to your balcony with a cup of coffee and the exact same time, Doyoung appeared. You greeted him like the usual which he does the same thankfully. Silence filled the air before you cleared your throat and spoke. "I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. I was carried away."

Doyoung, like he always do, nodded as a sign he understood. "Let's just forget about it." He responded which you agreed.

Deep inside, Doyoung was the one who can't forget about it. He doesn't get enough sleep because of it, his mind is floating somewhere while he was at work, your face is only what he sees whenever someone enter the bank, all of the employees' face are all you. This is madness.

After work, he decided not to go straight home. Doyoung went to the mall to unwind since you are already okay and your scooter has been repaired, he no longer needed to drive for you. He is currently at the department store looking for some new outfits to buy, spoiling himself again. Last time he does is, when he was still single in high school. He won a singing contest and he bought some clothes and a meal from McDonald's with the cash prize to pamper himself — it's been a long time.

Out of all places where he thought he can enjoy his me time, why now? Right in front of him, his ex-wife together with the guy she fooled around behind your back, his ex-friend. He just want to buy some new necktie but all he saw is these two wicked human being sweet while trying some necktie. "Oh hey Doyoung, how are you?" He asked in a mocking tone. "Looking... like a loser huh?"

The woman tapped her partner on the arm before speaking to her ex-husband. "You're still single I can tell. Why don't you just move on and accept that I can't be with you. I don't love you anymore." She paused for a while before continuing. "Marrying you is the thing I regretted the most. Just move on and find someone else who would fulfill your dream playhouse fantasy movie thingy."

"J-Joy..."

"If... someone would want to be with you." His ex-friend added an insult to the injury. "Look at you, standing like a loser." The guy was even laughing the moment he saw a tear escaping from Doyoung's eyes. Joy, the ex-wife, is trying to stop her boyfriend by pulling him away from the situation but they suddenly stopped as someone appeared beside Doyoung.

You happened to be in the department to look for shoes when you spotted Doyoung at the necktie section being confronted by two people — a man and a woman to be specific. His head hang low, fist balled, cheeks all red, stoned where he stand while the other man looked like a bully with his smug ugly face while the woman was uneasy. You walked closely and heard the whole conversation. 'That's cruel. Why do they have to say that after purposely hurting Doyoung in the past?'

Yes, Doyoung told you the story. The next day when you had the accident while he was cleaning your wound. "The last time I had the same wound  was when I scrapped my knee while I plead her not to leave me. I'm on my knees, hugging her knees tightly — one of the lowest days of my life." His bitter last words in his full book length story hit you hard. The day you promised to love him even more.

Thinking fast, you grabbed two boots and appeared beside Doyoung. "Love,  I've been looking for you for a minute." You acted exhausted pretending you are looking for him. "I needed your help but you disap— oh hello." You greeted in a fake but buyable way that you just noticed them. The two were actually shocked, can't even speak. "I'm sorry but we have to go, my boyfriend and I are on a rush." You said as you caress your tummy, leaving them what they would think about it. You just want to tease them. "Let's go love." You pulled him out of the situation.

You two are currently at the mall's outdoor garden as you are trying your best to calm Doyoung down who is still in emotional wreck. He is feeling weak and small as he let all his emotions out through a bucket of tears. You sat beside him, tapped his back and slightly embraced him.

"It's okay Doyoung, let it out." You comforted him. "They are heartless. How could they do that you?" You remarked in anger. "They think they looked cool there? They look more like the loser one. That guy is not even that handsome. You are miles better than him. The girl..." you paused. "Well she is beautiful... and tall BUT all of that are nothing with a rotten core."

Doyoung is still not responding, his hands covering his whole face. You continued soothing him until you spoke again. "Lucky I was there to save you. Do I look cool?" You tried to ease the tension by leaving some jokes here and there. "That's the first time I did that. I only acted once in a play in elementary, my role is a tree in the background." The broken humor that used to earn a chuckle from Doyoung, this time, it didn't. You heaved a sigh before going back to serious mode once again.

You put your hand on his shoulder and told him. "Don't be listen to what they are saying, there is someone who will love you and would want to be with you. Me. You have me. I feel your pain. I'm here to help you just tell me whenever it hurts." You embraced but this time Doyoung had enough and stood up, his bloodshot eyes looking at you directly in furious.

"WILL YOU STOP BEING ANNOYING AND SHUT THE FUCK UP?" He yelled at you which made you flinch. "YOU THINK YOU DID SOMETHING JUST BECAUSE YOU ENTERED THE SCENE A WHILE AGO? NEWS FLASH YOU DON'T LOOK COOL, YOU ARE NOT A HERO AND I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP." His emotions are now in control of his body, not thinking the words coming out from his mouth. "STOP ACTING LIKE A SAVIOR. DON'T ACT AS IF YOU UNDERSTAND MY PAIN AND FOR FUCK SAKE STOP MAKING IT ABOUT YOU. I DON'T LIKE YOU, NOT EVEN BE FRIENDS WITH YOU. YOU ARE AN ANNOYING PUPPY WHO KEEPS ON FOLLOWING ME AROUND AND BEING STUPIDLY ANNOYING. STOP PUSHING YOURSELF TO ME. I WILL NEVER LIKE SOMEONE LIKE YOU. YOU ARE NOT JOY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

At the very moment, you wished that you couldn't understand every single word that came from his mouth. Doyoung blurted out, vented out every single thing in one blow. Each words went through your ears, shove down to your throat then pierced straight to your already broken heart. Your vision is blurry as tears formed in your eyes. You couldn't process everything and all you can do is whisper an apology and ran away from the scene.

Know here you are in your cold room, bawling in tears not caring that much if some neighbors would hear you. Pillow drenched in tears, nose clogged, heavy breathing. Your feelings not being reciprocated is perfectly fine with you in all honesty. You are not afraid of that, not even waiting for a response, all you want is to simply express your feelings. You are contented and happy as long as you are with him. Does Doyoung really have to go that far? The words that he doesn't even want to be friends with you kept replaying inside your head. Why does he have to be mean? He should have ignored you in the first place, maybe you are not in this current state of being a lost puppy being kicked out of home.

The next morning, Doyoung woke up with a heavy heart. It took him hours to calm down last night, also took the same hour to process everything he said to you as well as the sight of you in tears before you flew out the place. He went too hard, offensive, rude, mean and hurtful kind of mirroring of his ex-wife the day she called it quits. Doyoung turned out to be that monster.

He made his coffee and went straight to the balcony with full of hope you are there, gathering his courage to apologize to you although he thinks it wouldn't be enough compared to all the distasteful words that came out from his disgusting mouth that night.

As expected, your balcony would be empty, no sight of you. What even is he expected? Did Doyoung honestly think you would act like nothing happened, that he wasn't a jerk last night and will casually greet you and crack a joke on you? Now, jokes on him. He no longer have the appetite to finish his coffee and decided to just go to work.

Both of you always walk out of your apartment at the same exact time, riding the elevator next to each other and leaving the building together. Today is different. You are nowhere to be seen. No one's going out from your place. Did you leave early or are you still inside? His journey to the parking lot is quiet and lonely. There is no you who would crack a joke, shamelessly flirt and will spill some tea.

Driving past dream cafe, he saw you sweeping the leaves in front of the shop. His question has been answered. You left for work earlier so you don't have to leave at the same time as him, you decided to avoid him, not wanting to piss him off by your annoying antics. That is the last thing that he would want to do, hurting Doyoung's feelings. Maybe he is right, you are being selfish for doing your own thing without asking him if it makes him comfortable. You are too carried away with your feelings because that's the first time you fell in love.

Your co-workers are worried about you. How can you be this good at faking your enthusiasm and smile in front of other people? You are always in the verge of crying but when someone will pass by you, you will paint a smile automatically as hard as you could then speak in the most cheerful way that you can get. "Good day, please have some free taste of our new menu." You tried to give them a portion of the bread happily, hopefully they won't notice how you struggle holding your tears back.

On the other hand, Doyoung is struggling to focus on his work. He saw you outside when he opted to get some fresh air. Instead, he spotted you struggle giving free taste outside your cafe, he saw you crying when no one's passing by. It crushed him, he is guilty. His words deeply affected you. The once y/n who is very positive and smiley is nowhere to be found. Doyoung is the culprit of the missing part of you.

Doyoung and his friends are currently in the lounge at their office. They noticed his silence and his bloodshot eyes. "What happened?" Taeyong asked worriedly.

"Did you see Joy somewhere that's why you are all sulky today?" Kun guessed but it didn't affect him, the mention of the ex-wife's name but he simply replied. "I suppose."

But the moment Johnny mentioned your name, emotions flooded. "I saw y/n at the cafe. She seems different today, she looks sad. That's weird and unusual of her. Doyoung do you have an idea what happened?"

That's the cue. His tears are having a raise who will fall the fastest, Doyoung quickly stood up and ran to the bathroom. His friends looked at each other and all of them picked up and pieced everything together. "I knew it." Jungwoo commented as he opened his palm. "Give me your money. You are all wrong."

Two months have passed since you decided to avoid Doyoung at all cost because of that incident. Whenever you happened to leave your apartment at the same time, you will opt to take the stairs instead of joining him inside the elevator. When your scooter broke, Doyoung offered to drive you to work but you ignored him and walked towards the bus stop as fast as you could. One time when Doyoung went to your cafe, ordered a bread then complimented you about how cute you are with the hello kitty clip, you brushed it off as it pissed you off a little bit. Did he honestly think that you are that easy to get? Doing the smoothest thing to get in your life just by being a flirt? Is he mocking you since you used to do that to him before? Annoyed, you slammed his order at his table and walked inside the kitchen without greeting him.

"Did you even apologize?" Kun started after Doyoung told everything that happened since your fight. He shook his head and said. "I can't find the right timing. I will gather my courage but then she will ignore me as if I'm not even existing, I'm invisible, I'm a thin air."

"Well, y/n can flirt with you even with your lack of response. You have no excuse. Man up and apologize even how many times she ignores you." Taeyong added. "We know you like her."

Doyoung was quick to deny. "No. I don't. It's just... I miss her jokes... and flirting... and her annoying antics... her food. That's all."

"Just say you missed HER. You talk too much and said less at the same time. You are already in love with y/n." Johnny teased him.

"No, I'm not."

"Then why are you not wearing the wedding ring anymore?" Taeil pointed at Doyoung's ring finger, noticing the subtle detail. The boys were surprised and it's true. Doyoung has eliminated officially one of his bad habits of wearing the wedding ring.

Jungwoo suddenly appeared and surprised everyone with his loud presence. "Look, Joy posted on Instagram that she is engage with pug-face." He announced as he showed everyone his phone, letting them see the post. Doyoung peaked and surprisingly it has no effect on him. "Okay. Then what are we going to do with that?" He replied.

"You're not going to cry?" Jungwoo asked in confusion.

"Why would I? It's her life." He simply replied, showing no hint of jealousy and sadness.

"See? You are in love with y/n. You already moved on with Joy." Taeyong pointed at him, looking proud.

After the long day of teasing, Doyoung has finally in his safe space earlier than usual. He has nothing to do and decided to clean his apartment, maybe give it a makeover. Sweeping the floor, wiping the furniture, changing carpets, bed sheets, pillowcases and curtains, decluttering his closet and lastly removing all the remnants from the pass – he finally had the guts to remove the wedding picture without the feeling of being hurt and sad, instead with a smile and light heart. He hid it at the box where he can no longer see it. Everything is fine now as he relaxed at his couch drinking beer. His eyes caught the attention of a hello kitty envelope, grabbed it pulled out the content. He remembered now, you gave him a copy of the first selfie you had at dinner, the one you placed in your living room. Doyoung smiled lovingly as he caressed your face in the picture with his thumb, his hear is beating fast.

It's already late at night, Doyoung can't close his eyes. Why is sleepiness ignoring him as well? Opening another canned beer, he sat on his balcony under the moonlight while looking at your empty ones. God knows how much he longed for you. Call him crazy but he found himself talking to the empty chair where you usually sit, the alchohol is slowly putting an effect on his system.

"Hey y/n! I know you can't hear me and probably you are sleeping, you should be! BUT I... I miss you so much I hope you are still up and playing video games at your living room so you can hear what I'm saying." Doyoung gulped another drink and continued. "You're annoying, a flirt, noisy, corny and... you are short and you are... the one I want. I want to be with you, I want to listen to your jokes everyday, cook for you, put you to sleep, hug you, kiss you and... love you. I'm deeply in love with you. I fell for you without me even realizing it. Your short ass managed to slip into my heart. I love you. I sincerely do. I'm very sorry for being a jerk, an asshole... I'm sorry if I'm stupid for saying all those things to you. You are annoying but I want you to stay in my life. You are not Joy and that's the reason why I love you. You are you." After he let out al his hidden feelings finally after trying to deny and resist it, he felt relieved even though there's a zero chance you heard it. He deeply sighed before falling asleep on his couch.

The next morning, Doyoung woke up, all sweaty and smelling like beer. Even difficult for him, he stood up to drink some water, take a shower and brush his teeth. Lucky for him, he has no work for today. He decided to take a jog today to make his a day a productive way. As soon as he stepped outside his dorm, he spotted you, carrying a luggage. Doyoung panicked mentally. Are you moving out? Are you leaving him?

You were about to enter the elevator when Doyoung called your name and ran towards you, holding your hand which rests on the handle of the luggage. "I know you are mad at me and avoiding me but do you really have to leave and move out?" His tone is pure sadness. "Okay, I'm sorry for everything that I've said and done. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry for venting out my frustration on you. You don't have to forgive me but don't leave. If you want, I will no longer bother you but please stay... I still want to see you every morning. You can treat me like a complete stranger if you want to, all I want is to see you. Please don't move out." He said in all honesty.

You blinked your eyes a couple of times, confused until you realized why. You wanted to laugh but decided to play along with him and looked at him in poker face. "Doyoung, I'm offended... you called me..."

He didn't let you finish, cut you off and replied. "Yes I know, I called you an idiot, selfish, annoying..."

"Short" you cut him off as well. "You called me short, that's what I'm going to say. You're being noisy last night just to call me short."

Now it's time for Doyoung to look puzzled and he looked funny to you. If only Doyoung can see himself. "You were actually right last night, I wasn't sleeping and I stayed up late night playing video games." You spoke. "I heard everything. I lost the game because of you... I was distracted by what you said." You added. "Did you m—"

"Yes i mean it, cross my heart, hope to die. I love you." He looked straight to your eyes, confessing his feelings, you can see his emotions. "So stay here. Don't leave." Doyoung embraced you tightly, not wanting to let you go.

"Doyoung, let go." You commanded. "I have to go." Then you broke to his hold. "Or else I won't be able to sell these garments."

"What?" Doyoung, at this point, has no idea what's actually going on. "What sell?"

"I'm not leaving." You told him the truth because you can no longer hold this prank anymore. "I'm on my way to my friend's boutique to deliver these clothes. I'm sewing clothes too..." you then broke into laughter. "If only you can see how puzzled you look. You look like you are holding your poop. You are nervous as hell."

His hand is aiming at you ready to tap your forehead like how he usually do it whenever you are being annoying but this time instead of his hand, his lips touched your forehead, giving you a loving, gentle and long kiss. "Annoying." Doyoung said after letting your forehead go.

"You are annoying too. I thought you are going to kiss me on the lips."

"Later."

"Now."

"Later."

You huffed as you two rode the elevator. Doyoung is lame, you thought inside your head but the moment the elevator door closed, he gave what you wanted, kissing you the whole elevator ride, fortunately no one interrupted, it's only the two of you. He didn't let you gasp for air and just sealed your plump lips with the sweetest yet hottest kiss you've received, only letting you go when the door opened. Your cheeks are flushed, still catching air while Doyoung smiled like a fool. "I love you so much."

"I love you too..." You replied after you recovered from the kiss. "Can we do that again?" You requested that earned a big laugh from him.

END.

#doyoung x reader #writing #doyoung nct #doyoung imagines #doyoung fluff #doyoung angst #doyoung fanfic #nct doyoung #doyoung x you #doyoung x y/n #doyoung drabbles #nct x reader #nct 127 doyoung #nct fanfic

[jtl07]

I've been reading your thoughts on each episode of WN as I've been doing my own rewatch and I agree with so many of your points on story structure and pacing. I just finished episode 10 and I'm so looking forward to your write-up of it because holy shit does that episode have some issues. I'm also curious about your thoughts on Mother Superion and how much she knows going into episodes 8 through 10. Cheers!

Hey! Thanks for this, so glad to hear some of my ramblings are actually coherent lol

But yeah, it’s been a mix: there’s some brilliant stuff (I’m still very much intrigued with how they’re setting up Vincent’s betrayal and now that I’ve watched Beatrice’s fight in episode 7 in context, I love it so much more, so excited to write that up) but there’s also some frustrating things - with pacing, as you’ve mentioned, and just execution in general.

The two things that are chafing at me: lack of subtext in the dialogue and how that's made things sluggish (which I’ve mentioned already in my ep5 rewrite) and making full use of the camera.

(Side note re: the former - I wonder if it’s a nod towards how in religion, everything is told orally? idk maybe I’m reaching lol)

For the latter, I’m thinking of framing, of blocking, of how and where the camera lingers. They do the last bit a couple times with Ava in the first episodes, which were beautiful, but I wish there was more of that. I just watched episode 7 last night and there’s two moments that immediately come to mind that could’ve been heightened with different shots: Beatrice leaving the armory after talking with Camila, and Mother Superion leaving the idk courtyard? after Duretti tells her the Pope has died.

Like, wouldn’t it have been cool to have held on Beatrice as she leaves, even from Camila’s pov, viewing Beatrice from the back (and give KTY more opportunity to show that fantastic physicality she has) as she walks away, trying to keep her head up, trying to remember how to walk unarmed? And that moment with Mother Superion, having a different shot could have heightened the change that I think they were trying to show - like maybe straight on as she grapples with the changing situation, or maybe have harder shadows to show the weight she's carrying ...

But speaking about Mother Superion: I was quite surprised that she’s been kind of in the periphery (though maybe that’s just been my attention lol). I feel like I didn’t really start paying attention to her until e7, mostly because of everyone pressuring her. The problem is that I’m not completely sold on her struggle. I think it was in e6 when she agrees with Duretti (disagreeing with Vincent and Beatrice), but then near the opening of e7 she disagrees. Sure, they’re about two different subjects (the shield vs the rejects) but I’m not sold on the whole “keeping herself distant because she cares too much” (which we only know because Mary says it). Part of it might be due to them spending time building up Vincent (so that his betrayal hurts more) and also Duretti as the villain, leaving not a lot of time for Mother Superion (maybe they’re banking on the reveal about her being rejected by the halo as a heavy hitter?) Not to mention, they’re constrained for time because they’re telling two stories in parallel since Ava’s been away from the OCS.

(Actually, a thought just occurred to me: What if ep4 had Mother Superion on comms during that mission to get the shield from Arq-Tech? Maybe even listening in when Beatrice calls out Lilith - maybe even giving the order for everyone to fall back when the alarms when off. OOOoooh yknow what would’ve been spicy? Have Beatrice defy that order, or at least say something like, “I can do it,” and Mother Superion be conflicted about letting her go alone. Oh man, that would’ve been cool, now I’ve made myself sad that we didn’t have that)

Uh … this got away from me lol. But I will say that you’re comment about “how much she [Mother Superion] knows going into episodes 8 through 10” has my curiosity piqued because all of my previous knowledge has only been clips and gifs, focused mostly on avatrice, so I’m very curious at how they’ll build up Mother Superion these next episodes!

Thanks again for the ask :))))))))))

#kasadilla11 #jt watches wn #jt rewrites wn #sister beatrice #mother superion #so much of what i love is really the acting more than the writing tbh #and while the writing has given fandom things to play with and holes to fill in #it's really frustrating to watch sometimes #if y'all have different thoughts and interpretations i am sosososo open to hearing it! #warrior nun

[fangirl94stuff]

George Ragan (J3T) (Hollywood Undead)

Y/N

It was one of those days when you felt down and dark, your thoughts getting the better of you making you doubt a lot of things in your life. It was days like these you should have stayed off social media because hateful comments got to you more, but you couldn't help but go on Instagram because you'd posted some photos hanging out with Hollywood Undead at the studio the other day. You'd known the band since their Myspace days, and it helped that you and George were best friends because your life would be a lot more boring without these maniacs in your life.

You'd also had bouts of depression and George never judged you. However when you went on Instagram you were hit by a wall of comments on your post, all the band had liked and commented nice things, but your eyes only sought out the negative comments and there were a lot more of those. Most days you'd brush them under the rug but today wasn't going to be one of those days.

GEORGE

'Asia, I'm going to head over to y/n's because they haven't replied to any of my messages today,' I call out, pocketing my phone and grabbing my jacket.

Asia pops her head around the door as I pick up my keys, 'tell them we need to hang out soon. Ava really wants to see them again.'

I nod, and just then Ava comes running up to me holding a picture and smiling like an idiot, 'Dad I made this for y/n, from when we went to the park.'

I take the drawing and ruffled her hair, 'I'm sure y/n will love it, Ava.'

TIMESKIP

I was shocked at how quickly I'd managed to drive over to y/n's, because traffic was awful in the city, and I wasn't sure if I should take it as a good or bad sign. y/n was a good friend, one of the few people in my life I could be open with knowing they wouldn't judge me. Everyone has their demons, y/n just chose to keep them to themselves instead of sharing. y/n had posted some photos and for some reason, there was more negativity than usual. My gut told me I wasn't going to like what I found in their apartment.

Using my spare key I enter the apartment and immediately find y/n on the sofa wrapped in a blanket endlessly scrolling through their phone. I approach slowly and see their face tear-stained and it broke my heart. They were looking at photos of the two of us.

'Hey, hey. Oh my god, why are you crying? did I...did I do something wrong?' I ask, keeping my voice low and soft.

y/n sniffles and shakes their head, 'No, it's just--it's just you're always so gentle and caring with me George--it makes me feel like I don't deserve you. No one has ever treated me like you do.'

I sit down next to them and take their phone away, replacing it with Ava's drawing, 'You know we all love you y/n. Ava drew this from when you went to the park together, and Asia wants to hang out with you. We'll always have each other's backs.'

y/n smiles weakly and runs their fingers across the drawing, 'I think I need to go back to the doctor George, get back on my meds. I hate feeling sad when I should be happy.'

I wrap my arms around them and pull them close, 'and I'll be by your side one hundred per cent of the way. You're not alone. Do you want to order something and watch films?'

y/n nods, 'only if it's not a bother to Asia and Ava. Can we also get ice cream?'

I chuckle, 'We can get ice cream y/n, and Asia was taking Ava to her mum's anyway.'

y/n's smile seemed more genuine this time around and they cuddle into me. My phone goes off and I'm able to see Jordan had messaged me asking if I wanted to go out with the guys tonight. Without disturbing y/n I reply saying y/n was down so I'd be hanging out with them tonight, and he responds saying he'll explain to the guys and that we should all do something nice for y/n as a group. I agree and put my phone away, not wanting any more distractions for the rest of the night because it would be healthier for both of us.

#hollywood undead #hollywood undead fanfiction #hollywood undead imagines #hollywood undead imagine #hollywood undead j3t #george ragan #george ragan fanfiction #j3t fanfiction #johnny 3 tears #band imagine blog #band imagines #band fanfiction #fanfiction blog #johnny 3 tears imagines #Hollywood undead army

[geminidragonjasminealexandra]

Junkie Depp is going to OD any day now. That old fat ass is going down hill fast! And that's awesome, since he's an abusive, worthless piece of shit. I'm sure he'll have fun in hell with all his little pedo friends.

Can't wait for you depptards to lose your minds and cry over that aggro injun!

Uh huh... so you are wrong, rscist & body shaming? What a combo... does your Aunt Mom know you talk like that? Well, if you're not too busy making out with your brother's cousin, let me lay some facts.

In the REAL world, Amber will be going to court in Australia and She's no longer ambassador of anything. Hey you want to hear a little rumor that is true? Well.... I heard, that Amber purposely made that article to slander against Johnny Depp because she was hoping to be sued. She was going to use that case in order to bring attention to her, counter sue against Johnny Depp get bank & get free press. Also because her article was also insured, she'd would've collected insurance on her little stunt. You know that articles can be insured? I didn't learn when you pay attention, am I right?

It's a dog eat dog world out there, isn't it?

You see a lot of people put money into her stunt in order for the big payoff. They thought that she was going to be the biggest star and her winning the court case was going to make her an icon... a way to shoot ahead into being an A-Lister.... to come out smelling like a rose. But instead she ended up smelling like her bed sheet. Isn't it amazing?

She used suckers like you in order for her to pursue this. Oh but yeah, it is so sad that you're still falling for her tricks... although if she has a cult, why not to get them to rub her feet? But that's okay. If it wasn't for people like you, who would give people like her any attention? All.she has left is the Amber Simps... you're all she's got... so please stay with her... give her a dollar when you see her, she'll need it.

However its interesting the insurance that she was hoping for the big payoff on, are not going to cover for her liability case? ..... Shocking! Apparently, if you purposely try to get yourself sued with intended malice and defamation (not me saying this, the big meanies in insurance). Then the insurance don't want to insure you for that. That's like setting fireworks inside your house on purpose and expecting the insurance company to cover you. I wonder how she's enjoying the fireworks? It looks like not only she has to deal with Australia, she now has to deal with the insurance company and the IRS. I wonder how many of her friends are going to cover for her? I bet Barlow has enough money to help her. For a terf, she's.... got good teeth?

Anyway, thanks for your little comment. Thought I'd spread some happy news for you. Since you're such a sad little gray face. It's adorable. Look at you trying to act as if your words mean anything. You are absolutely precious. You're just like that angry little turd on a bed sheet. You just want attention so you raise a stink. Don't worry little turd 💩 burger. Amber does Love you. And one of these days she's going to pay so much attention to you, she's going to be so grateful and give you one big sloppy hug. She's going to say that she appreciates you and she's going to make all your dreams come true. And when that happens, you can come by here and tell me I told you so all day. I'd like to see that happen for you... Good luck Gray face. By the way I already know who you are. It's so cute you think I can't figure it out. When your vocabulary and your grammar is so so so so so familiar. Maybe you should try changing the repertoire?

Maybe you should write to Amber and tell her how much you mean to her and then give her your debit card number with pin. A REAL Amber Supporter would do that... right? Come on, she needs you. She's shopping at TJ Maxx... you can give her a visa card under your name, right?

Anyway stay moist...

#amber heard #johnny depp #gemini #Give Amber all your money like a true fam!

[camgoloud]

for the fanfic ask game: 7 for shovel talk (in f major) and 2 & 4 for do my friends think i'm dying (or do i just need to go to sleep)

thanks for the ask! Sorry in advance, this one is a bit long—I went on about shovel talk for Definitely Longer Than Necessary… I’ll start with the answers for “Do my friends think I’m dying? (or do I just need to go to sleep?)” because those will be quicker:

2: What scene did you first put down?

Ahhh so this one is a bit weird to think of in terms of scenes because it is. a mocked-up reddit post lol… I know that the Very first thing I wrote was Colin’s initial “post” outlining the situation… but then when I was trying to come up with various Types of comments that should go on the post and work out a logical order for them to show up in, I think the first group of comments I actually planned and wrote out in real detail was maaaaybe the one starting with u/oliver_bongwell like “sorry but can anyone else not focus on op’s question because they’re too weirded out by his descriptions of his workplace environment,” which then sparked a whole series of replies from redditors trying to figure out what Colin does for a living lmao

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Oh, HANDS down “Hey op, dm me, I have a question” from u/baz_richmondtillidie just because I was so delighted with myself when I was trying to figure out how on earth to conclude a “fic” without a real narrative and then suddenly had the Best Possible Idea… but honorable mentions definitely go to our friend u/oliver_bongwell’s “jesus op it's a good thing you've been in therapy. maybe take this problem back there though. not that I’m not living for this drama because I am but I’m just saying it seems like there’s a Lot going on here. lot of words etc” and Colin’s “No one is listening to me, I'm like at least 70% sure I'm not getting fired.”

And now, regarding “shovel talk (in f major)”:

7: Where did the title come from?

Ah, yes, this one 😂 short answer: I was trying to be funny; medium answer: I was trying to be funny and a bit heartbreaking at the same time; long answer requires a bit of context, probably, because I know this isn’t your fandom… (also, it’s going to contain spoilers for series, so if you don’t actually want those you can just skip the rest of this post and I’ll give you a shorter version in dms or something lol)

So, the character Juno Zeta is the mother of another character named Palamedes Sextus, to whom the narrator of this fic, one Camilla Hect, is about to swear what is essentially an Oath Of Lifelong Companionship And Servitude that is taken VERY seriously in-universe (as in, part of the ceremony is going to involve Camilla and Palamedes telling each other “one flesh, one end” in front of a bunch of witnesses, and those words AREN’T ALWAYS MEANT METAPHORICALLY :/). Palamedes is very much a child-genius-do-the-impossible-type character (this fic is set when he and Cam are twelve; he’s basically in charge of Planet Academia by two years later) and in this he canonically takes after his mother a lot. This fic is basically Juno Zeta telling Camilla, only mostly-jokingly, “are you SURE you want to commit to my disaster son? You have so much potential and I’d hate to see you tied to the kind of person who I know from personal experience might very well get you killed with his reckless can-do attitude—or, at the very least, he will get HIMSELF killed, and then you’ll have to deal with the consequences and be very sad about it*”.

*SPOILER ALERT: He does, in fact, do exactly this. It is, in fact, EXTREMELY tragic, and Camilla is VERY very sad about it, and it kind of ruins the entire rest of her life in many ways. Juno Zeta doesn’t want to say she told you so, but…

Anyway. So, on the most basic level, the fic is a “shovel talk” in the sense that the whole thing is a conversation in which someone’s mother gives someone else a warning about What Might Happen To You If You Get Involved With My Son. But it’s a shovel talk with a major twist, in that the mother is saying all of this NOT for the benefit of her son (she has reason to believe that her son would actually be a lot better off in the hands of Camilla, who is a dangerously competent individual) but for Camilla’s sake. Hence the humor; the tragic part is that Juno Zeta says a lot of Eerily Prescient things as she is shovel-talking that reflect the actual canon ending of Palamedes and Camilla’s story, and that those warnings go LARGELY UNHEEDED… This is where the “(in f major)” half of the title comes in, which I suspect is the part you were actually curious about. Unfortunately, Juno Zeta fails in her mission: f for failure; f also for “F in chat,” pay respect to Zeta, who tried so hard to intervene in the tragedy of Camilla-and-Palamedes and wasn’t able to stop things from going exactly as she was afraid they would anyway. (Lol—really I just liked the sound of it; I thought it sounded funny and charmingly whimsical tacked onto the end of the title, and I was in a VERY weird mood at the time of posting, because it was the night before the latest book in the series came out and I was high on adrenaline from anticipation and from having spent literally all day at the computer trying to finish banging out my last Camilla Hect tribute fic before who-knew-what-shit went down in the next book)

Thanks again for asking!

(ask game here)

#my writing #ask game #ted lasso #the locked tomb #colin hughes #camilla hect #juno zeta #palamedes sextus

[craftyemma]

it’s nice to have a friend | emma and ryan

Who: Ryan & Emma ( @suitandgosling​ ) Where: Emmas apartment When: 4/24/22.  Plot: Emma and Ryan hang out, have dinner and almost have their own moment.  Tags: n/a

Emma 

Emma had one of those days at work where the days dragged in. She loved her job, she did but some days when it was slow or she had to send it catching up with paper work it just got too much. She knew she probably should be making something at home but by the time she had locked up the shop the only thing that sounded appealing was take out. Emma knew she could get Ryan on board with it so sent him a text asking if he wanted to join her and was happy when he accepted. She got home and put in their usual pizza order and pour two glasses of wine, waiting for Ryan to arrive.

Ryan

Ryan was surprised to get the sudden text from Emma inviting him over for pizza. She sounded like she had a rough exhausting day, him being able to feel it just through the words on the phone. Ryan had already been ready, a plain crisp white t-shirt that hugged his form well layered on top of a pair of crisp dark jeans. His hair was already styled and a handsome musk of cologne had already settled on him. Leaning up against the bathroom counter, he looked at his phone  and opened a message. "Are you still coming? 😘" read the message. His fingers hovered momentarily over the keys before he typed out an apology that he could no longer make it. Grabbing his coat and keys, he made his way out to the car and ignored the following series of message notifications on his phone. Driving to Emma's, he parked, walking up to her door and knocking.

  Emma

As soon as she got home Emma changed into a pair of lounge pants and a tank top. It felt nice to just be home and be relaxed.  It wasn't that the day was hard, just long and boring. She preferred being at the shop front and getting to speak to customers, rather than on the phone with suppliers and dealing with the actual business side of things. Emma opened the door and smiled at the sight of her best friend. "Hey!" She greeted, going in to hug him. "Oh, you smell good." She commented as she walked him through her apartment. "I didn't take you away from anything, did I?" She asked, raising and eyebrow and handing him a glass of wine as she sat on the soft, tucking her legs under her. Ryan

"Hey," Ryan greeted in return, going to hug her back. "Thank you," he chuckled, pulling back to follow her into the apartment. Ally's car wasn't in the driveway, so he figured she must not be there. "Me? What would I possibly be doing?" he said with a playful scoff, ignoring the continual vibration of his phone in his back pocket. Yeah, she did seem a little crazy. "I just always naturally look and smell this good. You should know that by now," he chuckled, taking the glass of wine and brining it to his lips. Ryan took the seat beside her on the couch. "Anything new going on?" Emma

Emma knew Aly was going to be out tonight, which was another reason she had invited Ryan over. Eating pizza and drinking wine was a lot less sad when you had someone with you and she knew that she could be herself around Ryan and that was what she needed. "I never said anything about you looking good." Emma teased. Although she was very aware of how attractive Ryan was, anyone would be a fool not to see it. But Emma also knew she couldn't let herself get too caught up in those thoughts - otherwise she would be led down a path she had been before with him and it wasn't fair on any of them. "Nope." Emma said, popping her p. "Boring as ever." She laughed, taking a drink from the wine. "Please tell me all the exciting things in your life." Ryan

"You didnt? Hmm, I could have sworn you said something about it," Ryan teased with a chuckle, grinning at her. The man brought his glass of wine to his lips again, sipping it as he listened to her answer. "We need to get some excitement in your life. Get out there. Have fun," he commented.  Thankfully, after Emma's engagement ended, the two of them could hang out closely again. Perhaps Ryan was selfish to be glad for the break up since it hurt Emma so much, but he never liked the guy. "My life? Hmm. Going out here and there, but everything is pretty much the same. It's prom and graduation season, so the shop orders have been picking up a bit." Emma

"You wish I did." She teased, it was always so easy with Ryan. Emma knew that no matter what was going on in her life she would have him there. If it weren't for him, she probably would have spiralled after her engagement ended. "Pfft, you mean eating pizza and watching America Say isn't fun?" She teased. Ever since everything happened, she was scared to put herself out there. "Besides, it is much more fun to comment on your life. Is there anyone there I need to give a grilling too?" She teased, taking another drink. "Well, that is fun!" Emma grinned, loving the idea of Ryan helping all the high school boys pick out their prom suits. Just then the door went, she grabbed money for a tip and went to answer the door. "It is here." She grinned, putting it on her table and bring through some plates for them. "Dig in!" kerosenedaze — 24/04/2022 "You're right, maybe I do," Ryan responded with a laugh. At her 'fun' activities, he rose an eyebrow with a small chuckle. "You know, sometimes I think you might actually be like 60 years old trapped in that body," the man joked. "Grilling? I don't know about that. Nothing sticks long enough, really. Maybe my standards are too high," he casually shrugged a shoulder. Ryan shifted a bit as she went to get the pizza, putting the wine glass on the table and looking up as she came back in. "That smells amazing," he took a slice, putting it on the plate. Emma

Emma laughed at her friends words, already things were feeling better and it was like all her stress of work was just gone. They had been best friends since they were teens and Emma was so grateful they still had this banter. "A 60 year couldn't deal with my diet." She laughed, taking a bit from the pizza and putting it on her plate. "Ah yes, no one is good enough for you. Which, I get. I mean, you deserve the best but also you need to know that you deserve to be with someone. You are amazing." Emma said, taking another sip. "I know. The thought of this got me through the day." Ryan

"I don't know. I've seen some 60 year olds who can get down on some pizza and wine," he mused, taking a bite of the slice in front of him and turning to look at the red head. "That's not what I meant," he responded to no one being good enough for him. "It's just... I don't know. Attract the wrong people I guess," he responded, pursing his lips together. "You are too, ya know? Amazing. You should... get back out there and find someone who realizes that," he said, though as he said it, he didn't like the feeling that sat with him. Emma

"Good because if I get to 60 and can't have pizza and wine? I'll cry. Real tears." She said, trying to be serious but not being able to help the laughter. "I know it's not but probably no one you bring home to me will be good enough anyway." She laughed. Suddenly the thought of him with someone else did not sit okay with her. "Oh god. That is not something that I think we need to worry about." Emma said, the thought of rejection being too much after Chris broke off their engagement. Ryan

"Real tears? Not fake tears? Oh, no, we can't have that," Ryan teased with a soft chuckle, moving his body to push it playfully against hers. Taking another bite of the pizza, he thought about what she said. "You know, it's the same for me. No one will be good enough for you and I'll secretly hate and distrust all of them," he assured, a slightly laugh to follow, but he wasn't joking as much he he let on. Emma

"Not fake, real!" Emma said pointing to the corner of her eye. "We don't. Mainly because you are the one who will have to deal with it." Emma laughed when he pushed his body against hers. Emma let out another laugh at his words. While she knew it was the same for her, no one could be good enough for Ryan, he only deserved the very best, she thought it odd he would think the same in return. "We might need to look into that whole getting married to each other if we are both single at 50 thing." Emma laughed. Ryan

"Oh no! Real tears? Are they there??" Ryan chuckled as she pointed to the side of her eye. He grabbed her face in his hands and pulled it close. "Hmm, I don't see anything. I think you may be yanking my leg," he grinned. When Emma mentioned the getting married when they hit 50 thing, he let out a soft breath of air chuckle. You only have to wait 9 years for me to turn 50. I have to wait 17 years for you. How is that fair? I'll be 58 then. God, that's gross," he teased. Emma

"There are there!" Emma said, when he held her face in his hands, she looked him in the eye. It wasn't lost on her how close they were in this moment. Emma wasn't sure but something about this felt different. She snapped out of it when he spoke again. "You just aren't looking close enough." She teased. Emma couldn't help but laugh at his words. "Oh man, I never thought about it like that. It might be time for me to trade you in for someone younger." She teased. Ryan

"Mmm, I don't know. I don't think so," he chuckled, but let it trail off quietly when the tone in the room switched as their eyes locked together. His face inched slightly closer to hers, before he realized what he was doing. Surely, she wouldn't want that. Perhaps he could do it and if she didn't like it, he could blame it on being in the wrong mindset from expecting to go on a date. No. This was too important a friendship to even risk messing up over something like that. Ryan's mind raced, but the moment passed as Emma continued to speak. He barely registered what she said, mind focusing back on the present.  He let out a small chuckle like he was paying attention. "Damn, that hurts," he teased Emma

“You aren’t looking hard enough.” Emma said with a smirk. She caught his eye and swore that he was leaning in closer. Wasn’t he? Was she just making this up. Emma felt herself move closer to him as well.  Was this happening? Part of her wanted to believe it was true but then he seemed to snap back so maybe she was just making it up. Maybe she had been single too long. There was no way someone like Ryan would want someone like her. She had seen the people that he had gone out with and she wasn’t like that. “It’s what keeps you on your toes.” She winked.

#para #para: ryan

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context:  Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

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

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,” the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

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

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

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

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

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

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

#Disaster Lineage #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi Wan Kenobi #Qui Gon Jinn #Count Dooku #Yan Dooku #Ben Kenobi #Jaster Mereel #Xanatos du Crion #Jango Fett #Komari Vosa #time travel #de aging #age shifting #family #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #500 notes

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself. 

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win. 

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!” 

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them. 

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points. 

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders. 

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed. 

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough. 

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once. 

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed. 

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation. 

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out. 

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history. 

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test. 

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test. 

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them. 

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain. 

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match. 

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump. 

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down. 

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did. 

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly. 

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them. 

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly. 

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home. 

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out. 

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot. 

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!” 

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually. 

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp. 

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered 

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders. 

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations. 

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all. 

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better. 

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you. 

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest. 

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears. 

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.” 

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient. 

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back. 

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang. 

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway. 

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #sibling reader #sister reader #platonic #reader is a lesbian #toxic friends #volleyball #mcyt #mcyt x reader #high school AU #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tubbo x reader #tw: swearing #tw: toxic friendship #tw: panic attack #tw: injury #tw: anxiety #tw: bullying