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oliviajdjarin · 2 years

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Din Djarin: Good

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: He was the only one you ever told your weakness to, and yet he wasn’t good enough to shield you from it.

off-canon version of Season 2 Episode 3 titled “The Heiress.”

Warnings: Din is insecure, reader is also insecure, Din is described as taller than reader, reader almost drowns, din is a simp, reader gets checked out, jealousy, coughing up water, descriptions of a neck snapping, chest compressions, but a happy ending.

A/N: Thank you for your request @ione-23. I really hope this is what you were looking for.

Din Djarin Masterlist

(gif gotten from Pinterest)

Of all the words that Din Djarin could describe himself with, good would not be one of them.

He had killed people. Good people. And for what? A couple of credits? A warm meal? One less creak in the Crest’s walls?

He wasn’t good. He was a surviver.

Until he met you.

The day you agreed to be his partner, you unlocked something deep inside his chest, deeper than the kid could manage to worm himself into, and he started to see himself as more…neutral.

He wasn’t good, but he wasn’t bad enough to make you leave, and that was good enough for him.

It was scary, the lengths at which he would throw himself to keep you with him. By his side.

He didn’t know it was possible to crave another person, but you had him entranced by not just your looks and mind, but by your heart.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that kid,” you said to him after he explained just how much work getting the baby back to his own kind would be. “And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Relief had flooded him, as well as another feeling that had his brain screaming to pry himself away from you before he let it take root.

You had taught him how to trust someone, talk to someone, need someone, and you had shown him that that wasn’t a weakness at all.

Unless, of course, the people you were trusting were half a dozen Quarren fishermen who were all too eager to take the three of you on their boat.

He should have trusted his gut, but you had managed to pry that open too.

“It’ll be fine,” you had assured him. “Not everyone in the galaxy is actively plotting against us. Some may actually want to be helpful.”

It was the way you had looked into his eyes as you spoke, resting your palms on his chest plate so he was forced to look down at your perfect face, that really got him. You could ask the world of him, to throw everything he had ever been and ever will be away for you, and he would find himself saying yes. Without a doubt in his mind.

“They will take a us to a Mandalorian. What better chance would we have of finding one without them?”

You spoke to him like you did late at night on the Crest: softly, intimately, and with understanding in your eyes, and it weakened his knees.

“Okay,” he responded, and his stomach fluttered at the way your eyes glowed.

“Okay,” you said, and walked through the cantina to tell the Quarren his boat would have two extra passengers.

He watched as the fisherman’s eyes raked down your body as you walked, and the flutter in his stomach quickly turned to nausea.

He trusted you, probably too much, but he couldn’t shake the pit of dread in his stomach. Something was off about this, but he forced himself to swallow it down and ignore it.

He trusted you. That should have been enough.

~*~

Din could feel the thickness of the salt in the air through his helmet, and the constant movement of the crew members made him more than uneasy. He kept his eye on the water to steady himself, but he kept an eye on both you and the kid through his peripheral vision.

It was the only way he could continue to breathe.

“Hey,” you said beside him, and he looked to his left to meet your gaze. You always had a way of finding his eyes under all that armor.

“It’s alright, we’re almost there.”

You squeezed his leather covered hand and smiled at him softly before walking over to the kid’s pram. The kid’s arms waved in excitement, and he released a cry of joy.

If there was one thing that could undo him more than anything, it was seeing you with that baby.

He felt himself smile at the sight of you tickling the baby’s belly and the sound of your combined laughs.

His Clan.

The tightness in his muscles and the thickness in his throat eased for one precious moment, before the voice of a Quarren filled his ears.

“You ever see a momacore eat?”

The male leaned against the side of the boat as he spoke, spreading his legs and broadening his shoulders as he did so.

It was that movement that spurred Din to make his six-foot frame that much more obvious. The male wasn’t even half his width, and a picture of the male’s neck squeezed between his leathered hands while he gasped for air—

“The child might take an interest,” the male continued, “or the lady.”

The lady.

His lady.

“Sure. Why not,” you replied with an awkward sounding laugh, and led the kid’s pram to the edge of the water-hole.

“You comin’ Mando?” you questioned softly, and tilted your head slightly to the side.

He swallowed. Your head always did that when you asked him a question. It was endearing enough to center himself, and he exhaled deeply.

He nodded, and the corner of your mouth lifted into a genuine smile.

“Come on over,” the fisherman said and gestured to the massive hole in the center of the ship. The creature inside had to have been bigger than Din had ever seen. “Get a good look, let the kid see.”

You stepped closer, peering over the ledge, and the wooden floor creaked under Din’s weight as he reached for your forearm.

“Hey,” he said, sharper than he intended, “be careful.”

He hated the flicker of fear in your eyes.

“I will,” you responded, with understanding once again lacing your voice.

He loosened his grip on you, and let his hand drop to the side.

Relax.

The Quarren brought a net full of fish over the edge of the water, and dropped them all into the center. The water began to bubble with white foam, and both you and the kid leaned a bit closer to see the creature finally show itself.

“She must be hungry,” the male said, and the child cooed in curiosity.

“Oftentimes we will feed her in the early morning, but we missed that cause we were going out of port—”

Din’s body moved before his brain did.

One second, he was watching you and the kid be viciously shoved into the water and instantly swallowed by a mass of teeth and fangs.

And the next, he was diving in after you, with words you had spoken to him months ago as the only sound in his mind.

“I have no weaknesses, Djarin,” you mumbled to him. The flashes of hyperspace coated your skin like a blanket, nearly knocking Din from his feet.

No matter how many times you said his name, in any variation, he would never get used to it.

“None? None at all?” he replied with a rare chuckle.

“Nope. Nothing,” you respond, and he ignored the way your dimples were shining. “Except water. I hate water.”

“Water?”

“Yes. I never learned how to swim. It comes with living on Tattooine.”

He grunted in acknowledgement.

“If you ever tell anyone that, Din Djarin, I’ll steal the Crest for myself and take the kid with me.”

“Point taken,” he replied, “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

“You’d survive.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

The memory was pulled away from him as he hit the frigid water, and swam as far down as he could.

All there was was blackness and abyss, and the weight of his armor forced him to swim back to the surface.

“Except water. I hate water.”

He sucked in a breath and grasped the cage as tightly as he could to keep himself upright. The heaviness of the beskar threatened to pull him down with you.

He had never felt so panicked in his life.

“I never learned how to swim.”

You were down there. The kid was down there. Drowning. Alone in the stomach of maker knows what.

He wanted to join you, or at least take your place.

The Quarren began hitting his hands with their fishing poles to try to get him to sink down with you, and for the first time in a long time, Din Djarin had no idea what to do.

If he stayed where he was, you and the kid would drown, but if he swam to get you, it was highly likely that all three of you would drown. His heart pounded so loud that a thought as logical as that drained him.

His arms ached. The poles hurt and the weight of his body was too much.

Would the infamous Mandalorian resort to begging? You had already been under for too long, and the Quarren were not letting up.

He would. In a heartbeat. He couldnt lose you. Now that he got a taste of what being happy feels like, he couldn’t take the fall of going back. He wouldn’t survive it.

“You’d survive.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

He brought just enough air into his lungs to bring his pleas to his lips, offering the males anything they wanted, but sudden bursts of blaster fire began to echo in the chamber. Grunts and shouts continued as the cage opened, and Din was pulled from his watery grave.

“Save—save them,” he choked to the stranger. “Save her. My child—”

“Don’t worry brother,” the woman replied, “we’ve got this.”

A Mandalorian. He was speaking to a Mandalorian.

It was frightening how little he cared.

His eyes were glued to the water as another female dove in after you, fearlessly. More blaster shots rang out from the black water, and the woman who had spoke to him kept her hand pressed on his shoulder to keep him still.

Every creak and rock of the boat threatened to send him over the edge.

You needed him, and he wasn’t there. He was sitting and watching.

Useless. He was utterly useless.

Suddenly, a sound similar to an engine roared from under the water, and the female shot into the sky with both you and the kid in her arms. Luckily the kid had closed his pram before being swallowed by the monster, but you didn’t have such luck.

The woman landed roughly and laid you down to rip open the child’s pram. He cooed at Din when he saw him again, and half of Din’s heart felt full again.

The other half was laying on the cold, wet ground, not breathing.

“Cyare,” he mumbled, and ripped the Mandalorian’s iron grip off of his shoulder. His soaking boots stomped across the floor as he ran to you and fell to his knees at your side.

“She’s not breathing,” the woman stated, and Din’s eyes were locked on your solemn face.

He could pretend you were sleeping, that you both were sleeping, and that he’d wake up to you only feet away from him. Happy. Healthy.

“Come on,” he pleaded to no one but himself. “Wake up. Wake up Y/N.”

He rocked your body side to side, desperate for any movement or intake of breath, but there was nothing.

“We have to do chest compressions. Now,” the woman said sternly, and placed her hands over your chest.

“Don’t touch her,” Din responded, and the woman went as still as death. “I’m doing it.”

The woman stepped away hesitantly, and Din pressed his palms against you gently.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Please don’t let me hurt you,” he mumbled. The difference in his tone with you was apparent. He sucked in a shallow breath and pressed down.

The intake of air you let out was like music, and it was as if he had entered his body again.

You lurched forward, coughing up buckets and buckets of water, and Din stroked down your spine as you did. He could hear how painful it was for you.

“Breathe cyare,” he whispered. “Just breathe. You’re okay.”

He took deep breaths with you, guiding you, and you held tightly to his forearm. Your eyes were glassy and your lungs were not yet cleared, but you were alive.

As your breaths evened out, you wiped your nose and looked up at him. Your eyes trailed over his helmet, and you brought your free hand up to his neck.

“You jumped in after me,” you said, a small smirk on your face, and ran your fingers over the soaked fabric of his undershirt. “Didn’t you?”

He nodded slowly, and let you press your cold fingers against his pulse point. The skin there was sticky from the water, but it was warm from his body heat. It sent a chill down his arms, and his eyes fluttered shut.

You needed to feel his skin and his heartbeat to know that he was really there, that you didn’t drown. You were alive, and you needed him.

Your eyes moved to the figures standing behind him, and widened at their familiar looking helmets.

“D—Mando, how—”

“No,” he replied, and grasped the back of your head. “Stay here, just for a minute. With me.”

He pulled you closer to him and rested his forehead against yours. You flinched at first, likely feeling the burn of the cold metal, but you relaxed into it and placed your hands on his chest.

He wanted you to look at him, only him, not them, and you smiled into the embrace.

He knew you knew what he was doing, and he knew the Mandalorians behind him knew what he was doing, but he couldn’t have cared less.

He wasn’t good, or kind, or deserving, but he had you, and that was enough.

“My Y/N,” he mumbled, and you hummed.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Tag list: (I have not written for Din in a while, so If your tag is either not here or messed up I do apologize. Id love to add new people :)

@leahkenobi @burned-dorito @tiredbuthappy @em---r @just-a-sewer-goblin @lovesbiggerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @darth-voder @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgoth @punkiwiki. @martinsmomo @letaliabane @cathenan @big-ol-boat @niiight-dreamerr @jezebel1945 @call-me-doll-face @yelyahcardella @letskeepthislo-ki @misspearly1 @petals-opento-the-moon

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #star wars fanfiction #star wars #din djarin headcanon #din djarin angst #din djarin smut #book of boba fett #obi wan kenobi

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everythingne · 4 months

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out of the woods - ls2 [2]

With a home race that couldn't go better, Dhanishka feels the confidence to let loose. But, Bahrain's post race celebration brings up some confusing feelings Dhanishka definitely won't handle the best. Charles plays the disappointed older brother role very well, Daniel is a bit of an enabler as is Lando, who also wins a bet with McLaren. Also, the FIA makes a weird call.

logan sargeant x ferrari!ex!oc

fc: iffat marash (and other pinterest girlies)

warnings/notes: mentions of past car accidents, drunkeness, a makeout scene, tbh if logan looked at me the way i describe here i would fold oops. conflicting feelings here for miss dubey

(part one) (part three)

Bahrain hasn't even started, my home race hasn't even started, and I already feel like I'm about to snap. I knew coming into this race there was a lot of pressure on me to do well, not to mention how basically everyone I knew and their fucking mother was here, but from Ferrari alone. This was the season they planned to solidify Charles and I next to Red Bull. They'd been secretive about their car, their plans, and whatever, just to hopefully psyche out the other teams.

Personally, I just wanted to win for myself, but thats a whole other story.

When I walk in the race, cameras are on me faster than I can say my name, thousands of eyes watching the only rookie this season as she makes her way into her paddock. Inside the paddock is no better, and the garage can't even be a safe haven as reporters walking the pit lane try to get video of me and Charles greeting eachother.

He's like a bright red beacon of safety admist the chaos of this morning. He hands me a coffee, says it's supposed to be some sort of weird chai thing. It tastes... like slightly more bitter and heavily espresso filled chai. But I drink it anyway because lord knows I need the energy.

"You look stressed, is it the race?" Charles asks after our debriefing, when I'm working on reaction times. I keep working at whacking the buttons, eyes trained on the center as I also work my periphery.

"I think so." I say, uninterested, and Charles purposefully messes up the game so I look at him with a loud exclamation. He grins, and I get now why Arthur had punched Charles in the arm as a greeting once. He looks like a cat that knows it's done something wrong, but smugly doesn't care. Like my aunt's big brown cat named Porsche.

They'd bought her a 'Porsche' for her birthday that year. Haha.

"What's it actually?" Charles asks when I catch my breath a little, taking a big gulp of water and then sipping on the coffee-chai-thing.

"I talked to Logan after we left the resturant and I can't stop thinking about it." I set down the cup and go to return to the game before Charles grabs my wrist and pulls me back.

"Do you wanna talk about it before the race? Maybe get it out of your system so it doesn't affect you while driving?"

"You're talking like you speak from experience."

"Maybe I do." He hums and I huff through my nose, before grabbing both of my drinks when he nods his head back to his drivers room. Probably the only place here we could get privacy. He pops me down on his couch and sits next to me, motioning for me to talk.

I stammer a bit before sighing, “Logan still thinks it’s my fault. He still thinks I had something to do with the accident. And I’m a fucking idiot because I still love him.”

Charles’ eyes widen as I lean forward and huff, rubbing my forehead as I keep talking, “I still love him after three years. And he doesn’t love me back and that hurts but I can’t do anything about it.”

"you still love him?" He asks and I nod, and then hitch forward with a sharp gasp. It's like saying the words out loud have thrown every possible emotion in my face. Anger at him for breaking up, regret for not chasing him, a deep sorrow for the things we'd lost. He had been my first love, something so innocent. I didn't know how I was supposed to live without him.

"I do," I whisper through the lump in my throat, "I love him, but I can't even look at him without feeling sick."

For once with all the issues I've come to tell Charles about, this is one that stumps him. But he wraps an arm around me, pulling him to his side as he rubs his hand along my back and I curl into his touch. I don't exactly cry, but I more so just hyperventilate.

And it takes maybe ten minutes for me to calm down fully and when I do, Charles squeezes my hands.

"No matter what happens, I've got you." He says softly, "just like at dinner, I've got you."

I nod and he hands me a tissue, I fix up my makeup and stand, letting him escort me back out to the garage so we can go get out fireproofs and race suits.

The sun is long set when we start the race, the warm up lap making my nerves spark as my fingers twitch on the steering wheel. I knew Bahrain's track like the backs of my hands, I knew exactly what to expect and what to do and where to go. Starting p8 wasn't terrible, I would've preferred to be higher but I'll take what I can get. In front of me is Yuki, Carlos, Daniel, Charles, Oscar, Lando, and Max. With Logan directly behind me and Alex behind him.

I'm not super worried about Alex, but Logan had a pretty similar driving style to me so I worry about him coming and overtaking me. I know I can overtake Yuki, Carlos, and Daniel if I give myself time and risk going wide when it comes to Carlos, but Lando, Oscar and Max will be my biggest competition. Though I'm not sure about Charles, I guess it depends on what we're told on the radio.

Within the first five laps, I've gotten past Yuki and Carlos, but Daniel's giving me a run for my money. Charles even tries helping, but it's no use, and I take my place behind Daniel for the foreseeable future. I don't mind it, holding P6 at the beginning isn't the worst scenario. I just have to wait until people starting going in for tire changes and such, hopefully I'll be able to use that to get around.

Eventually, Daniel understeers and it gives me a perfect opportunity to whip around him and I solidify myself in P5. Oscar's ahead of me, Lando ahead of him, Charles in P2 and then Max holds P1. Charles is fighting him for it and I'm impressed with how we're doing so far.

At some point Logan comes up behind me, I'm only alerted via the radio for half a second before I see him try and push me to the edge of the track. I speed up, purposefully oversteering the turn to knock him off my back.

By the end of the race, I find myself P3 by a goddamn thread. Lando having wing damage making it easier for me to snag around him in one of the last turns. Charles isn't far ahead of me, and Max holds his P1 usual. Lando's P4, Oscar P5, and Logan P6. Everyone else is pretty much scrambled, almost all the racers overtaking someone multiple times throughout the race.

I can't really feel anything under the thrum of my excitement, Charles coming up behind me and lifting me off the ground in celebration as Max laughs from a distance. We're making our way to the stage for the podium, helmets off and a hat secured over my head to block out the sun and my post-race helmet hair.

"Lets go! 'Ishka!" Charles jumps and I laugh, whacking him on the head as he hoists me in the air.

"Congrats, kid." Max grabs the brim of my hat and yanks it down, making me yelp in surprise as Charles sets me down. I fix the brim of my hat while Charles laughs, trying to help me yank down Max's hat too before I'm called to walk up on stage.

The roar of the audience is deafening, the announcement a warble as I take the trophy with a thank you and shook the hand of the woman who gave it to me. I lift it above my head, the noise only growing, and I can't help the satisfied shout that leaves my throat in celebration.

Dipping back into the paddock, I see Logan being ushered away from me by Alex. Even though the sight of him makes my throat close and stomach drop, I try to keep my head up. I try to not let it affect me, but I know it does.

I told Logan the truth. I let him him go because he wanted to go. Nothing Logan did now would change the way my heart ached for him. In F2 I learned quickly to shove my emotions down and never let them escape me, and when I wasn't in the safety of Charles' company, I felt like I had fallen back into that same routine again.

Cold, sharper than a tack, everything rolled right off. I bit my tongue when necessary, fought back only when provoked.

It was nothing like how I had been before Trident. That much was known. But I wasn't about to be used again. Never again.

A few hours later, we're at the hotel Charles is staying in, him laying face first on his bed while I fix up my makeup in a mirror for the upteenth time. Another night out is in order to celebrate the season kickoff, Max inviting Charles and I along with him, Daniel, and Carlos to some sort club I've been to a hundred times already.

Once I've used Charles' bathroom to change into my clothes for the night, I'm wrapping a large Ferrari jacket around myself to be a bit more 'presentable' until we get to the club. I lean into the mirror to check and secure all my jewlery before I make my way out of the bathroom.

Charles looks up from where he's sitting in one of the chairs in the hotel room, his eyes doing a quick once over before he grins and stands up. He's wearing some jeans and a loose black button-up, a gold necklace swinging before settling against his collarbones as he makes his way to my side.

"Revenge dress?" He muses to me with a smirk and I whack his arm with a loud laugh, shaking my head as I walk to grab my purse off the coffee table.

"It wasn't intended to be, but sure." I grin as I take a sip from my wine glass on the table, eyeing the now empty bottle we were using to loosely pregame the night, "Glad to see you've gotten a bit of fashion advice, the polo looks good. If Max is wearing anything Red Bull I'll choke him out."

"I'll help you." Charles laughed and hands me his wallet. I pop it in my purse without thinking, I know it's so I don't run off without him, and I pretend to be annoyed. But the action is sweet.

"We have a little private room with some of the other drivers," Charles grabs our phones off the charges and hands me mine as he pockets his, fixes his hair in some sort of habit, and then looks back to me as he grabs the handle of the door, "So, you can leave your stuff there until we leave."

"Sounds good to me." I follow him out the door, my heels clicking on the tile on the hallway as we move down to where the carpet starts. Charles turns back to me as he walks, watching me dig out my car keys. When I lift my eyes to meet him he scratches his jaw and then speaks.

"Logan's gonna be there. That's fine with you?" Charles asks. I had told him in the garage this morning about my argument with Logan. It had been eating at me, and Charles being ever the observant picked up on my shift in attitude before I did.

"I probably won't even see him, this club is always packed." I reason, even with the private room. I'd spend most of my time at the bar. If I was with my friends, also the dancefloor, but I had a suspicion I wouldn't be doing much dancing tonight.

"You sure?" Charles holds the elevator door open for me, letting me step in and press the button for the lobby. I nod, adjusting my outfit a little bit as I look over at him.

"It's fine, I'm over it." I shrug, looking at myself in the mirrored doors of the elevator and fixing up my hair loosely. I can feel the elevator slowly start to lower and I grin at myself.

Maybe it was the confidence from my win, but I looked good tonight.

"You cried over him this morning and now you're saying you're over it?" Charles hums, thinking back clearly to me frustrated for no reason this morning and his intervention with led to me half-hyperventilating into his chest.

"I got P3 in my first F1 race, Charles. No one can touch me. I'm hot, sexy, and breaking the Ferrari curse." I playfully do a little z-snap that has Charles chuckling as the doors open to the lobby and he brings me out to an awaiting car. This was something else I would never get used to, how we all just kinda casually had luxury vehicles. Now, my parents were well off, my father a CEO and my mother a tailor, and they had plenty of money to give to me and my sister if we needed it. But it hadn't always been that way. So the Ferrari just idling outside the hotel, clearly brought over by Ferrari for Charles and I to drive like once this whole weekend is a shock to me.

He lets me in the back, then gets in the passengers, instructing the driver on where to go while I lean back with a content sigh and watch the streetlights pass.

dhanishkadubey made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, charlesleclerc, and 254k others...

dhanishkadubey: kicking off the start of a wonderful szn. much love to the tifosi 🏎️ ❤️ (📷: @ charlesleclerc)

charlesleclerc: ❤️

danielricciardo: this bitch drinks fireball like water.

dhanishkadubey: ur rlly exposing me like this danny :(?

user1: congrats on p3!!!

oscarpiastri: go dhanishka go !!

user2: tensions rising in the loscar fandom tn

maxverstappen: great start to your rookie year, dhanishka :)

anyadubey: YAAA THATS MY SEXY SISTER!!!

user3: actually in love w her.

When we arrive at the club, the place is already going hard. Early 2000s music pulses from various speakers, the lights flashing to the beat of who I think is Britney Spears mixed with that one song from Saltburn. It's Daniel who greets us in the upstairs room, showing me where to leave my bag and jacket while Charles is escorted off to the side by Pierre and Max. I spot Esteban and Lance chatting idly with Magnussen and some other racers. It's odd combinations tonight, as the grouping strays from the normal clumps of friends, but it means I find myself engrossed in a conversation with Alex and George maybe thirty minutes after getting inside.

"I seriously thought you were gonna be much meaner!" George shouts over the pulsing music and I laugh as he hands me my drink from the bartender. I thank him softly and take a big sip, nodding at the sour taste im expecting from the cocktail.

Catching George's eye, I tease, "Do you want me to be?"

"God no," George waves a hand in my direction with a soft laugh, something playful and almost childlike gleaming in his eyes as he tilts his head, "Carmen's plenty mean to me."

"Oh stop!" Alex scoffs, whacking George's arm, "As if Carmen's little jabs equate to Lily's!"

"Didn't you literally call Lily the doll from Squid Game?" I ask, then pop my straw in my mouth and take a slow sip. Alex freezes as if he's been caught red handed, and George suppresses a giggle.

"Look..." Alex holds up a hand in defense but George and I are laughing too hard to really hear whatever excuse he uses to defend his actions.

"Okay, can I ask you a question, Dhanishka?" Alex asks after we've calmed down, leaning forward on the bar as I settle in my seat with George on my other side. I nod and he swallows and I can see him roll the question through his head. He takes a sip of his drink, swallows, and turns to ask, "If you wanna answer, what exactly happened with you and Logan? 'Cause he's been moping since you got announced to be racing with Ferrari and I might lose my mind if he doesn't knock it off."

"Oh god," I say into my midori sour, taking the bitter drink into my mouth and swallowing it and setting my hand over the cup. George leans over to look, head slightly tilted like a puppy as Alex quickly speaks up.

"If you don't wanna say anything, it's fine, but--"

"--No, no. It's fine Alex," I wave a hand, "uhm, Logan and I started dating when we were racing in Renault, but we'd been kinda... I guess flirty since the end of our formative years and into like secondary school. We were... I was fifteen, so he was seventeen or sixteen at the time? It was just like... puppy love, y'know? Pure and innocent, nothing too serious.

"And, we were both in love and it was nice. It really was nice. But, when that crash happened with Trident, I think something snapped in him. I... the breakup... it came from nowhere. I don't know if it was because he was mad, thinking I had something to do with it, or if he just... didn't know what to do and needed control after Trident took that P2 position from him? I don't know. We hadn't spoken since that day until last night."

"You talked to him last night?" Alex asks with slightly wide eyes and I nod, taking another sip of my drink.

"We argued about it last night while waiting to leave." I sigh, rolling my shoulders as I pop the straw between my lips and take a long slow sip, then speak, "He thought I had something to do with the crash, I told him I didn't, he asked me why I let him leave--which, Alex, feel free to tell him I think that's a dumb fucking question. I wasn't gonna force him to stay if he was unhappy, or if he didn't wanna date anymore. I'm not a monster."

"Wait, wait," George waves a hand to grab my attention and I turn to him with a soft hum, "So is he mad at you?"

"I don't know," I finish off my drink, noticing both George and Alex are not even halfway down their respective drinks, "I can't tell with him. I would completely understand if he was furious about everything, but none of it was my fault. I didn't even know Trident planned to crash into him!"

"I'm gonna try talking to him," Alex looks over at someone to the right of me and I don't have to look to know he means Logan's there. I nod, sip my drink, and excuse myself to go back to the room. George escorts me up there, to make sure I'm fine, and then leaves me to Daniel who grins.

"You've had something to drink, right?" He asks and I nod, but happily join him and Lando at the bar for shots of various alcohols. And I end up drinking a few glasses of soju back to back with Max at one point, introducing him and Checo to different flavors while Daniel laughs at Max's shock over how everything just tastes like a slightly sour juice. I'm finishing my fourth glass of soju when I start to feel woozy. Taking a water from the bartender, I count the drinks I've had in my head and roughly equate them to about a handle of alcohol.

Lando orders a final round of shots for us, Fireball burning down my throat.

"Danny!" I call to the Australian, who turns in a full circle before realizing wher eI am. He nods and steps closer so I don't have to shout.

"The bathrooms right there," I point to a hallway and Daniel nods, "Can you grab my stuff and I'll meet you guys by the door?"

"Yeah, just be quick! Text me if you need anything." He squeezes my wrist and I nod, slipping away and down the stairs that lead tot he dark bathrooms. Once I'm done, I step out into the hall looking down at my phone when I slip on water pooled by the door. Or what I hope is water.

A hand juts out, catching me by the waist and tugging me forward so I'm no longer falling backwards. The firm hand is familiar, and when I glance up to thank the man who caught me I make eye contact with Logan. I resist the urge to make some rude comment and thank him softly instead.

"Are you gonna tell everyone about us dating?" He asks instead and I scoff.

"Are you gonna start a fight every time I see you?" I rebuke, and then shrug, "Alex and George asked. And if I said no, they could just look it up. I didn't say any apecifics, just the bulk."

Logan looks a little relieved at that, almost like he was nervous about their reactions if they knew every little thing that we'd done. Truth be told, puppy love was the best way to describe us back then. Stolen chaste kisses, giddy smiles when holding hands, little meaningful gifts, late night texts that led to sleepy smiles the next day. I was sure he'd had something more... mature after he'd broken it off. I had rationalized in my head that was why he broke it off. I'd never know the real reason, I wasn't going to ask.

"You..." Logan finally lets go of my waist, and in the low light I see his eyes sweep over me with a look I want to decipher. I've lost the key to his brain, and I know I won't be finding it any time soon.

"You look as beautiful as the day I left you, more so now... but," He laughs, shaking his head, "Sorry, I had too much to drink. I shouldn't."

"You shouldn't." I agree, but a tiny smile curls at my lips, "But thank you."

Logan looks at me for a long moment and I return the gaze, our eyes spelling out stories of his hands carding through my hair, laying on a blanket on the roof of his London apartment and listening to music in shared earbuds, us cheering on Oscar when he'd asked Lily out and celebrating with him after.

He was so much of my past, and somehow I found that I wished he could fit into my future.

"Can I ask one thing?" Logan says, the music pulsing above us louder now, making his voice get swallowed by the music. I step closer to hear him as I nod, throat dry as trepidation rolls across my skin, his lips part, and it takes a second for him to ask, "Can we not fight? I don't think I can ever see you look angry at me again, I've been replaying our argument outside the restaurant for days now.

"I don't wanna leave our past behind us and move on," He continues when I gape at him, "I loved you back then, maybe I still do now or maybe its the fact I'm so drunk the world is spinning, but you were such a big piece of my life. I've known you since we were kids, Dhanishka I can't let go of you now that I've got you back."

His heart is being held out for me, hands shaking as he stares at me, and I just stare back. Just friends, I tell myself. That's all we'll be.

"You know," I start, and I can feel its my heart and blood alcohol content leading the conversation and not my brain, "I do think I still love you--or maybe its the fact I'm just as drunk as you are, if not worse. You made my life, you made me who I am, from the stupid jokes to the little kisses behind our garages, or sneaking into eachother drivers rooms to nap..."

I swallow my pride, "I won't let go of you this time."

He grins and on wobbly legs he takes me into a hug, I let his arms wrap around my waist, hands warm against my skin as I throw my arms around his neck. The stairs squeak behind us, and we step back, but I don't see anyone come down. When I turn back to him, I find he's still looking, and as the music shakes the walls and rolls into my skin, I find one of my hands cupping his jaw. His breath cuts short, lips parting as his tongue darts out.

It's so dumb how easily I fall back in love with Logan Sargeant.

He dips down before I can think to pull back, slotting his lips against mine, and I welcome it. His grip on me tightens as he tugs me back in, bunching fabric under his fingernails as he gasps when I nip his lip.

"We shouldn't do this." He gasps between a kiss he drives, only to be cut off by me stepping closer to keep our lips dancing. He turns us, pressing my shoulders to a wall, cornering me underneath him, and I bite back a whine in the back of my throat.

"We shouldn't," I agree, and gasp when he moves closer, his hands sliding down to guide my hips towards him as his knee knocks mine apart. He steps one foot between mine, leaning into me, and I can't help the whine he forces out of my lips this time. And when I see his satisfied grin, I can't help the tiny bashful smile that pokes at my own lips.

"You're an asshole." I breathe against his lips, the club pulses above us, footsteps creaking on the stairs, but in that moment we dont feel the pull of the crowd singing and dancing. His hands grip my waist through the thin fabric of my black dress, pulling me in, and I feel everything. His chest hits mine with his sharp breath in, our eyes finding each other and holding a gaze I feel as bitter as the tequila in my stomach.

"I know," He pulls me in by wrapping his arm around my waist, hand finding my jaw and tugging me impossibly closer. Our lips meet again, all heat and fervor and my hands find the back of his head, knocking our teeth when I tug him in after he breaks the kiss.

22R stains his lips and I see it on his teeth when he grins, memories flicker through my eyes. He tastes like expensive whiskey and rum, a hint of shitty bottled beer taps my tonsils when I swallow. He tastes like everything I should run from and yet, I crave more.

"Dhanishka!" Charles calls for me somewhere in the club, voice loud against the music, and I step back. Reaching out to grab my wrist, Logan pulls me in once more, his thumb runs along my lower lip, fixing the smudged lipstick in the dark, dingy bathroom hall. I don't know what to say, I don't know if this is a moment where I'm even supposed to say anything.

"Danny!" Daniel shouts, coming to the hall of the bathroom and I push Logan back into the men's room and slam the door shut before he can say anything.

"There you are!" Charles calls and I wave, turning to them.

"Sorry," I giggle, the warmth of the kiss on my face as I feel the ghosts of Logan's hands on my skin, "I think I had a little too much."

"So did Max," Daniel snorts, flicking on his phone flashlight so I can properly see the stairs as I make my way over to where they stand halfway down them. I hear the men's room door creak and turn back to catch Logan's eye as Charles grabs my wrist and carts me upstairs.

We share a tiny grin between us, charged by drunken decisions, it's our moment. No one else sees. Or if they do, they don't say a word But Charles' grip on my wrist tightens, and I have an odd feeling we might not have been as alone as we thought we were in that hallway.

taglist (thank you!)

@chasing-liberosis @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

#f1 fanfic #f1 smau #formula one fanfic #formula one fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #logan sargeant fic #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant smau #ls2 fic #ls2 smau

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slutforstabbings-archive · 1 year

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@m0ssybricks @rebel-blue @nachtmahr666

Okay I decided to do this hc style, thanks for requesting, I hope you enjoy it!

pre-Michael!Corey x gn!Reader

Corey’s Hair

Corey’s mom made him keep his hair really short his whole childhood, which he hated. When he started dressing himself when he was 13, he fought to be allowed to grow his hair out some and Joan agreed only on the condition that he would keep it super tidy, which is how we end up with 1950’s nerd hair Corey at the beginning of the movie.

After the accident he just kinda can’t be bothered to style it anymore, but he still keeps it the same length out of habit, and so his mom won’t complain. He doesn’t have many feelings about his hair, it just kinda is what it is.

When you first see him, his hair is one of the things you’re really drawn to about his looks. It looks so fluffy and soft, and you know a summer in the sun would turn it red like his facial hair.

The first time you actually touch him is to ruffle his hair while you're flirting with him. It makes him super flustered but you're not sure if it's just a result of the flirting overall or if it's hair specific. The next time you see him, he's all tousled from riding there on his bike or his motorcycle. You comb through his hair with your fingers without saying anything flirty and he gets flustered again, albeit not as much. So it is at least a little hair specific.

After that you take every opportunity to touch his hair and it always makes him blush and stutter. The first time you scratch his scalp, he leans into your hand and follows it around like a puppy. He's so embarrassed he did that, he won't look you in the eye the rest of night. But also he can't wait for you to do it again.

You love his hair so much it makes him start to kind of love it too, after being annoyed by or indifferent to it most of his life. When it gets to be the time he would normally get a hair cut, he avoids it. He worries if he gets rid of any of it, you'll touch it less. He's surprised that it seems to grow out instead of down, and just makes a bigger, fluffier cloud around his head.

He used to use whatever shitty men's 3 in 1 product, but as it gets a little longer you convince him to use separate shampoo and conditioner to keep it healthy.

He finally gets less shy about it and starts to do things to encourage you to play with it, like guiding your hand to the back of his head, laying down with his head in your lap, or sitting on the floor in front of you when you're on the couch. He's still kind of embarrassed about the way he involuntarily nuzzles into your hand, but you think it's cute and that makes him feel better about it.

Domestic Life

It's {noveliazation} canon that Corey didn't see any point in trying to express his personality through decor in his bedroom in his parents' house. We don't see his house super clearly in the film but I think all the furniture is probably old, from before Corey was born at least, and kind of traditional and stuffy and mismatched. So when you move in together he's like Why do you care so much about how the rug looks? It's just a rug. But then when everything comes together and you have a pinterest-worthy apartment it clicks with him that it actually does matter that you like what your space looks like. He’s glad you worked so hard to make things homey. He wants to know your thought process behind every piece of furniture and decor like 6 months after two of you buy it. He will never be a knick-knack or trinket person tho, because of Joan and her stupid fucking rabbits.

He does not know how to cook beyond the absolute barest basics. Joan didn't want him to learn as a way to keep control over him, but maybe that's for the best because she was not a good cook. But you are! Corey will devour anything you make. If you want there to be leftovers you have to hide them, he's a bottomless pit. He always keeps you company in the kitchen but stays out of your way. It's hard for him not to crowd you because he wants to be near you but he understands it's not a good time for that. He slowly picks more kitchen skills up just from watching you, he finds a scientific interest in the way making food works, he thinks of ingredients the way he thinks of all the different systems in a car. You just float on a cloud with heart eyes like Pepe Le Peu listening to him explain how he thinks of it. Eventually he's your little sous chef, he does your mis en place for you, you trust him to taste the sauce and adjust it if it needs something, that kind of thing.

He's a little tidier than you but he's not an asshole about it. He just kinda lives around your mess and offers to help you if there's a particular thing you haven't done for a long time. You try really hard to be neater for him, you know he's an acts of service lover but you don't want that to border into taking advantage of him. He insists he could never feel that way but you want to make sure he knows he's important to you even if he doesn't put your shoes back on the rack every time you forget to.

He's a big saver. Before he moved in with you, he'd get his little treats from the gas station or whatever, but he didn't go anywhere or do anything, before he got the motorcycle he didn't even have to pay for gas to get to and from work. So he just hoards his money and honestly doesn't think of things to spend it on. But now that there's bills he's not used to budgeting so you have to teach him. He likes math tho, so he picks it up extremely easily and is optimizing it already after like three months. He's the youngest and least experienced employee at the auto shop so he doesn't make a ton of money, but it's not bad, and it's a career. He still thinks about finally going to college sometimes, but if he doesn't he's got something, you know? Something he can do in any town or city so no matter where life takes y'all, money will always be at least kind of taken care of. You live working class comfortable.

Before the accident with Jeremy he really loved the Allens and wanted a relationship that was the way he perceived theirs to be, and I think that he really strives to have that with you. It doesn't mean y'all don't fight or have other issues necessarily, but running a household together goes super smooth because he's so dedicated to it being that way, and you really appreciate that about him and try to reciprocate.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #corey cunningham x gender neutral reader #halloween ends spoilers #halloween ends #fan fic #headcanons #mine

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thewardenofwinter · 1 year

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖊𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖘 | WIP Intro

"PULVIS SUMUS ET IN PULVEREM REVERTEMUR".

We are dust and we shall return to dust.

Content warning: Discussions of s**cide and s**cidal idealization in detail. Mentions of death, murder, gore, blood, mentions of past abuse (including child abuse), explicit language and sexual content.

Genre: dark fantasy, paranormal fantasy

Status: outlining/first draft, 16k words

Conception:

The Resurrectioners has been a project that's been ruminating in the deepest pits of my sun-bleached skull that I keep on my desk for quite some time now. The Resurrectioners follows both a larger ensemble cast and an overarching plot, both of which are quite out of my comfort zone as someone who usually focuses on three to four core characters in my stories. Furthermore, this book is much more plot-centred than most of my other works, which are all character-driven for the most part (or vibe driven, depending on who you ask.)

Vibes:

music playing loudly from the next room over, dimly lit subway stations, old gunshot holes in a wall, leather trenchcoats, thick overcast in autumn, headphones resting on an ancient book, band t-shirts with moth holes, calf-high combat boots with water damage, broken glass on a bloody bathroom floor, the smell of over-brewed tea and cigarettes

Synopsis:

After a successful suicide attempt, a young woman is brought back to life in a strange, isolated estate filled with even stranger individuals where learns she has a debt for her second chance at life, one she must pay for in blood.

Characters:

All of the main characters in this book are people who committed s**cide for one reason or another or sacrificed their lives for someone else and thus have lots of trauma related to both the act itself and their life prior to the decision. Some are much farther into their recovery than others.

I might make a separate post detailing character development, fancasts and thus forth but I'll decide on that later.

Samara 'Mara' Dombroski

Our main POV character, resident ex-metalhead and the newest edition to the resurrectioners. 27 years old.

Samara is a character who is quite easy for me to write for and very difficult at the same time. She is sort of an 'alternate reality version' of a person who I am very close to had they gone down another path in life. Also, my favourite characters in dark academia-esq media are the fishes out of water that have no idea what's going on and are hanging on for dear life among pretentious intellectuals, which is exactly who Mara is.

Nazriya 'Naz' Akkineni

Hot bitchy mean girl and outcast chill goth girl solidarity at its finest. ~23 years old.

Otherworldly beautiful and astronomically intelligent and will not let you forget either of those things. She is very toxic and self-serving, the type of girl who will push your buttons until you snap and then blame you for having a negative reaction. Though, under her veil of self-confidence and narcissism lies a deeply distrusting girl who just wants someone to see right through her defences and love her and her flaws without having to change who she is as a person.

Naz is currently my favourite character because toxic lesbians have me in a chokehold 24/7.

Zakiah 'Kiah' Rush

Intellectual soft girl. Think white flowy dresses, Jane Austen and Bronte sisters, and flower fields. ~25 years old.

The epitome of 'I suffered, and I'll do my best to help people because of it.' She's everything sweet and soft, but she can be quite crass and funny when she gets to know someone.

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Tag: #The Resurrectioners

#The Resurrectioners #wip intro #current wip #writeblr community #writeblr #my writing #snippet #writing snippet #I don't know how tags work please forgive me #there are so many more characters to include but for this post i just wanted to include my girls <3

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confusedthinker-noeul · 2 years

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"How do you know it's love?" i remember asking somebody when I was younger. They told me about having butterflies in the pit of your stomach, of your heart beating out of control, of electric sparks and instant connections and I , for a long time searched for love in feelings similar. It took me long enough to realise love could be as simple as comfort, of feeling safe with a person without all the drama, of being listened to without judgement. Love could be that which makes your heart beat slower, calms you down after waves of panic attacks. Love could be subtle, simple and easy to be with. So every evening, I would walk across the road to your house and have conversations with you without thinking twice. You will talk about your day and me mine, how I hate my job and how you love yours and we will each drink a can of beer in honor of a day that went by okay. We could occasionally cook, read each other books and talk about exhaustion without ever finding a solution.We could calm us through numerous breakdowns, sit side by side in silence for occasional waterworks and lull each other to sleep with soothing words and lullabies. We could be each other's sancturies, secret safes. We could be all that we couldn't be, for each other. Know that, My heart beats slower when I am with you. May be I am finally in peace with the person I am. May be I am finally not worried about what's going to happen. May be I am finally home, with you. -Mi jeong PIC CREDIT : Pinterest Kdrama : My Liberation Notes #kdramalover #kdramaisnpired #yeommijeong #mrgu #myliberationnotes #myliberationnotesedit #myliberationdiary #myliberationnoteshk #kdramas #kdramalessons #writingcommunity #writeups #writersofinstagram #writersofinstagram #wordsofwisdom #wordporn #wordpornoftheday #love #lovequotes #womenwritersofinstagram #womenwriter #womenwriters #tuesdaythoughts (at Some Were Under the Sky) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cgw6dnbpdF7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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algosnostos · 10 months

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《 jason ralph. cismale, he/him. trying my best- anson seabra 》 oh my, there goes WESLEY GARDI. the 28 year old WITCH is currently working at CURIOSITIES ANTIQUE SHOP. they’ve been in salem, ma for 10 YEARS. they are known around town as THE DIFFIDENT. i have a feeling they AREN’T aware of what’s going on in town, and they are NEUTRAL. hopefully, because they are known to be EARNEST and INQUISITIVE while also being IMPULSIVE and PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE, they will survive. i guess only time will tell.

&. ORIGINS AND FAMILY

Full Name: Wesley Augustus Gardi Nickname(s): Everyone just calls him Wes, except for his family and old coven Date of Birth: August 19th, 1995 Age: 28 Gender + Pronouns: Male, he/him Place of birth: Boston, Mass. Parents: The Gardis come from a long line of typically very powerful witches- Wesley not being one of them- and thus his relationship with his family is strained at best. They’re constantly trying to coerce more power out of him, but Wes’ talents have always lied in protection charms and illusions; not exactly the impressive offensive skills they possessed. He’s always felt like because of his simpler pool of talents they keep him in the dark a lot of the time, especially recently. Siblings: Wes is the 4th of five brothers: Wayne, Winston, William, himself, and Wyatt. Of all of his siblings he is the closest with Wyatt and Winston, though as a whole the siblings aren’t particularly close with each other, a byproduct of being compared and pit against each other as children. Relationship with family: Unwillingly close with his parents, would trade his left arm for a week without them pestering him. Keeps resolving himself to set some sort of boundaries with them but caves the moment his father calls. Pets: A huge, fat old cat named Elmer Fudd who is violently, viscerally hateful towards anyone who is not Wes.

&. PHYSICAL

Height: 5′ 8″ Build: Itty bitty, could carry him around in a baby sling with minimal effort. Nationality: American Ethnicity: Caucasian Distinguishing Facial Features: Upturned nose, very cute, crinkles up whenever he laughs. dimples, also very cute. Hair Color: Brown Usual Hair Style: usually pulled back into a bun or ponytail but the bangs always escape. Eye Color: Brown Complexion: A couple moles here and there, various little scars from work and owning a Mean Cat. Disabilities: Anxiety and insomnia What do they consider their best feature: Probably his eyes Worst they’ve ever been injured: Never been seriously injured, the worst would be the time he slipped and cut his finger whilst harvesting herbs from his garden and had to go to the hospital because he fainted. Got three whole stitches and 100% cried the entire time.

&. APPEARANCE

Favorite outfit: t-shirt or Bisexual Button Down and jeans. Also sweaters. Glasses? Contacts?: Neither. Personal Hygiene: Clean, but also known to just grab clothes from the laundry basket to rewear three times a week. Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: Not really a jewelry kind of person, or piercings, wants a tattoo but has enough sense of self to know that if he was the sort of person who went out and got drunk, he would for sure wake up with a tramp stamp or something. Too scared of needles to ever go out and get one sober though. What does their voice sound like?: Really soft, naturally tentative unless he’s talking to someone he knows; then he emotes a lot louder. Rambles a lot when nervous. Accent?: None. Unique mannerisms/physical habits: Big fidgeter, always tapping his fingers, picking at his clothes, bouncing his leg. Left handed or right?: Left handed Do they work out/exercise?: Oh sweet jesus, not if his life depended on it.

&. BELIEFS AND INTELLECT

Known Languages: English, Latin (fluent classical, passable archaic), conversational Spanish Zodiac: Leo Gifts/talents: Wes’ specialty is abjuration (protection spells and wards). He is particularly skilled with protection charms, spellbags, and amulets. Also pretty good at illusions, but the more complex they are, the less he’s able to sustain them. Religious stance: Agnostic Pet peeves: People who hate kids, people who say their dogs don’t bite, when people put plastics in the dishwasher and they get that white film all over them. Optimist or pessimist: Optimist Extrovert or introvert: Introvert

&. INTIMACY AND RELATIONSHIPS

Relationship status: In the process of wearing down a certain fussy professor. Sexual orientation: Bisexual King Ideal mate/qualities they look for in mate: Patience, above anything else, honestly. Someone who won’t lose their mind dealing with Wes’s nonsense, but at the same time isn’t patronizing in their patience. Someone who can tell when to let him talk himself through something, and when to put a stop to the negative tangents he is sometimes prone to. Also tall. Ever been in love?: Not yet… What’s their love language?: acts of service and quality time. Most important person in their life?: Everyone in Wes’ life is tied for first place- gun to his head he still wouldn’t be able to settle on just one single Favorite Person.

&. VOCATION

Level of education: Has his Bachelor’s in Ancient Languages Profession: Employee at Curiosities Antique Shop Past occupations: Bag boy at a grocery store, freelance babysitter Passions: Magic, reading, learning Which is more important – money or doing something they love?: Doing something he loves.

&. SECRETS

Phobias: Needles, hospitals, blood Life goals: an abundance of love Greatest fears: being alone, being judged and found wanting. Most embarrassing thing ever to happen to them: When he was 15 and got the talk from his parents. His ultra strict parents staring him down in the living room and explaining about condoms and masturbation is something that lives in the deepest fathoms of his soul and haunts him to this day. Something they’ve never told anyone: He thinks his parents would have given him up as a baby if they had known how he was going to turn out. They’ve never explicitly stated their regret over having him, but it’s pretty clear from their interactions that if it were a case of having him as he is or never having him at all, which they would prefer.

&. PREFERENCES

Hobbies: Reading old books, gardening, going to estate sales Favorite color: Yellow Favorite smell: Eucalyptus Favorite food: Belgian waffles Favorite book: all of them Favorite movie: The Fox and the Hound Favorite song: Life’s What You Make It by Graham Colton Coffee or tea?: coffee AND tea Favorite type of weather: Either dark dreary days where it drizzles all day long and smells like wet dirt, or bright sunny days where you can smell the asphalt. Most prized possession: His first edition copy of The Hobbit. Most used word or phrase?: “Sorry!”, “Um...”, “But I’m not really sure.”

&. BACKGROUND

Wes’ parents are both highly praised and esteemed members of their coven; both possessing the kind of raw, innate power that most witches dream of; it was expected that any offspring of theirs would surely possess the same power, and everyone was thrilled to hear that they were expecting a child. Their firstborn, Wayne, was everything they had hoped for and more. Took to magic like a fish to water, witha well of power to rival their own. Winston and William, the next in line, followed suit, and it seemed that the Gardis had achieved the perfect lineage they had expected. And then came Wesley.

Wes’ first few years were spent the way all childhoods are spent: learning to talk and walk, eating dirt, being passed around from knee to knee at gatherings, everyone eager to spend time with the baby. His brothers were his best friends, his heroes, and Wes did everything he could to emulate them. It was only once he reached school age that certain expectations began cropping up. His mother’s first bout of magic had been transforming her carrots into fish sticks at the dinner table, age 3. His father had started out by predicting a flash flood at the age of 8. His brothers' all fell within that 5 year window. So when little Wesley went entirely magicless well past those ages, people started to worry and wonder. Was he simply a late bloomer, or was there something more serious at play? Did they fly too close to the sun by having another child when they already had 3 perfect sons? What if Wesley had no magic at all? It was with baited breath that their coven waited and watched for the faintest hint of power within him. And faint it was; at the age of 14 Wesley finally performed his first feat of magic. A simple bit of illusion, making the shadows on the wall take different shapes to entertain the youngest of the Gardi brothers, Wyatt- fellow late bloomer and topic of debate.

Worry gave way to relief, which was short-lived as it quickly became apparent that Wes simply did not have the skill or power to produce the kind of spellwork that was expected of him. His illusionwork was delicate and intricate, but did not translate well largescale. His wards were strong, but lacked offensive capabilities. Protection charms, healing spells, scrying, and the like all came fairly easily to him but were not impressive to his parents or their friends. What use was a healer when they had expected another fighter, after all? A healer may have some use on occasion, but with no offensive skills to fall back on, what good would Wes serve their coven, ultimately?

For most of Wesley’s teenage years his family and coven tried any and all means to coerce more magic out of him- endless hours studying every strain of magic in the hopes that maybe he had some rare specialty, their version of ‘immersion therapy’ which was really just making him sit in a room full of ice, dirt, light, etc and hoping he would emerge having learned by osmosis? It wasn’t one of their more thought out plans, truthfully. In the end they got so desperate that they attempted to scare it out of him; There was a good 6 month period of time when they would formulate scenarios in which hypothetically Wesley’s magic would come out to protect him or save himself from something. This methodology ended after a fake kidnapping gone wrong in which instead of using his magic to escape like they had wanted, Wes instead headbutted his father and broke his nose, before running off back towards town. Needless to say, as soon as he turned 18 Wes moved out. Got himself a dinky little studio apartment, limited his contact with his family as much as he was able to while still living in Salem, and worked double shifts at the grocery store to make rent.

Despite the chaotic somewhat traumatic childhood, Wes didn’t grow up resenting magic, or fearing it, or even just disliking it. All those endless hours of studying had done was ingrain in him a deep love and respect for everything that was magic. He loved the big magic, the things his family and their coven could do; the wards that kept their town safe, the magic that could level entire buildings and heal impossible illnesses and wounds. But his real love was for the little magic, the things that were so minute, and accessible that even non-magical people could utilize them. You don’t need to be a witch to learn how to utilize crystals, or runes. Protection spells and manifestations gain strength not from the magical ability of the caster, but the sheer will.

After moving out and attempting to put some boundaries between himself and his parents, and his brothers by association, Wesley just kind of plugged along living a normal life; got a degree, then got a job not at all related to said degree, joined a local coven that functioned for like a family then like a business, and just generally lives a good life, if a little lonely. As far as the drama regarding the Azreal’s Army/Earth’s Defenders, Wesley is pretty unaware, beyond the fact that there are nefarious plots afoot. His parents are aware but choose to keep Wes out of the loop- they’ll say it’s for his protection, but really it’s more that they don’t see any reason to involve him when he won’t be of any use.

&. HABITS

&. HEADCANNONS

☾ - ☾ -

&. WANTED CONNECTIONS

#begging for footnotes;wes #who you are;bios

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foyil420-blog · 1 year

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The Biggest Misconception in Online Marketing

Hello GmaKelly here to spread the word or the Misconception of the word. There are a lot of Misconceptions in Online Marketing. More than enough that's for sure. However, there still are good, reliable, and trustworthy companies who offer Online Programs. Misconceptions in Online Marketing Online Marketing is Only for Big Business Start-Ups and Small Business can use Online Marketing to expand their Brand. It's available to everyone Worldwide. And it's a very effective way to make an impression on their Target Audience. Online Markeing is Not Cost-Effective People think that Online Marketing is expensive because of the Hardware/Software you might have to purchase. I'm running my Website and this Blog from HP Laptop sitting in my bed. How simple is that? All it cost was the Laptop (which I allready had) and the cost of the Domain ($15). Sounds pretty Cost-Effective to Me. Online Marketing is Limited to Blogging So Very Not True! Etsy, Amazon, Walmart, etc, none of them Blog but still have a massive Online Presence. In fact, it can go as far as videos, social media posts, infographics, ebooks, podcasts, email newsletters, case studies, how-to’guides, and more. Online Marketing Is All Technical I will admit there is a learning curve. However, its not as bad you think. There are some programs available that walk you trhough the processes. The more you expose yourself to the technicalities and details of digital marketing for your business, the more you will be able to learn. The better you will be able to serve your Target Audience, SEO Doesn't Work SEO Does Work, it just takes time, patience and content. A lot of valuable and reliable information before Google see's your site as a place of knowledge and trust. Good Digital Marketing Delivers Quick Results No, No, No. Good Digital Marketing WILL EVENTUALLY Deliver Results. Everything worth having is worth working for. Online Marketing is not an overnight success. Usually 6-12 mos for monetary results. Businesses Can Thrive without Online Marketing You can not "Thrive" without Online Marketing. You can stay the same or maybe fall into the pit of businesses that will eventuallly be outdone by those who promote Online. The Internet is here to stay people, Use It. Building a Website is All it Takes to be Successful Online You have to Promote your Site through various platforms if you don't promote no one will see it, therefore, no success, no views.. Social Media like, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, LinkedIn, etc are the best places to promote your business too. Find Groups on the Platforms, Join and Post to the Groups where you can. Online Marketing is Difficult to Measure Not Reallly, Google Analytics among other programs, makes measureing your success easy as a click of a mouse. It gives you the Number People That Saw your Site, Where they Are, How they Accessed, What did they do while they were on your site. All this and more. The Best Moves to be Successful in Online Marketing SEO Stratagies Learn and Implement the best SEO Strategies. There are a lot of free resources Online to help you learn how to use SEO, You want to be sure to Include your Keywords or Keyword phrases in the Title and 1st Paragraph of your document, Use Meta Tags, Titles and Descriptions. Create and Implement Business Accounts You need a Profiles everywhere your Target Audience visits. Complete a Google Profile and Claim Your Website. (Claiming your Profile is letting Google know that you are the owner of the site. You also want to create Profiles on all the Social Media Platforms. Business Accounts where available, gives your business credibility, and creates trust with your Audience. Use Branded Email Signatures You and your employees should add your site address as a component of your Email Signature, when communicating with customers or potential customers. Breeds confidence that this person is part of the company and has knowledge. Final Thoughts All of this is doable for every small business owner. As I said before, there is a learning curve and it may take a while to see the results. If time is an issue or even just nerves, complete your Google Business Profile and Create a Facebook Account, Thats a good start and will produce some results. Post your items with creative descriptions and Headlines. All of this will make a difference in your traffic, however, you still have to entice them to click on thru. So keep your posts, light, friendly, open and most of all valuable and reliable. Your Audience will remember and repeat a bad experience before a good one. Leave me a Comment or Question below about your Online Marketing experiences. I look forward to hearing from you. Thank you for sharing your time with me. GmaKelly BONUS: Just for reading this far, click here for a Special Bonus just for Small Business. Read the full article

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financialsecrets · 1 year

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The Biggest Misconception in Online Marketing

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angeloum · 2 years

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Social Media: Do You Need to Use It to Grow Your Business?

youtube

In the various FB forums, groups, and even my inbox, there's one thing I get more questions on than any other subject. I felt the same way. I believed Social media would hold the answer to increasing my revenues, generating more engagement and creating the strength of my brand.

Is social media even worth it?

If you believe Twitter is one of the most vital aspects of growing a company or you'd like not ever to repeat the phrase "tweet," then you're on the right track.

In this article, I'm going to talk about... My experiences and opinions on the use of social media for communication and business-building tool What can social media accomplish, but why isn't the "end all be all."

What are the steps to pick which platform(s) that be most beneficial for you and your customers

Ultimately, my aim here is to ensure that you're conscious and focusing on the right things to help grow your community and business faster than distracted by tasks that feel more like walking water...in the pit of mud... amid a hurricane.

The first question is, do you need for you to use social media?

The world began to change and evolve when I entered the blogging community around four years ago. At the time, Instagram had barely picked momentum, Snapchat was not well-liked, Periscope and Facebook Live weren't even around, and Pinterest was beginning to gain momentum.

There was much less social media on the internet, blog comments were the king of the hill, and Twitter was where the fun was. (Did anyone mention "party"? I'll be having a Ballast Point. Thank you! ).

What's the difference? The vast majority of social media websites only grew in popularity in the last few years. Additionally, video (especially the live stream) has only recently seen its grand debut.

This led to a lot of anxiety and "squirrel" feeling because of the many new ideas that appeared all at once. It was a bit as follows...!

Oh, and did I mention that Facebook groups are trendy now? It's true! I'm there! And Pinterest isn't only for recipes? Yes, I can also do that! And the live video is exploding? It's true that I'm a significant bedhead and am exhausted, but sure!

All of it is happening simultaneously. It made us begin to feel that we had to be everywhere simultaneously without contemplating if that was real.

It's tough to say "no" when everyone you admire and know is already on the next platform and has warned users to be aware that "if there's no early adoption you'll be left in the dust!

Maybe that is just me.

You then move towards the next channel again until you realize that you've created ten tracks each take time to complete; however, they're not delivering the expected results.

Do you need to be on every social media platform? Are you spending hours every week using social networks?

Heck, to the mother-effin'-no.

As social media has become more prevalent, the public has begun to desire authenticity in a more excellent and significant way. This is the reason why live video is growing SO well-known. It isn't easy to cover up an aesthetically-designed Instagram picture while living in camera.

Therefore, instead of being on every platform, make sure you're on just a couple of platforms to ensure that your customers truly begin to trust your brand and know that they'll receive high-quality content each time they see your account show up on their feed.

What this means for you is that you don't have to be all the time.

Choose your primary social media channels and work with them with a lot of focus. You may only have one particular platform you're involved in. It's much superior to being frightened and unprofessional as you build social media personalities that seem fabricated and automated instead of genuine.

1. Which areas are your customers hanging out in the most?

This is probably the easiest, but it's an important point worth mentioning. If you're working to create your business, you need to overcome the hurdle of looking to utilize websites familiar to you.

I've heard many users say they don't know what to do with Instagram Stories or Snapchat, even though they know that the users who use them are avid users of these platforms.

Instead of figuring out the best platforms to establish stronger relationships with their friends, They stick with those platforms they're familiar with and waste the opportunity to build relationships with their group.

It's all about changing. Whether Snapchat will be around by the end of next year, it's learning the techniques necessary to connect with potential clients and customers you're trying to win.

This is because when Periscope was first introduced, I frequently joined since my followers began to be on there. Since Periscope isn't as well-known, I instruct my live streams via Facebook Live instead.

The platform might change, but the techniques I acquired through Periscope were helpful when I used Facebook Live. This means you might be annoyed that the media you invest time creating could be old this year. However, the truth is that every platform teaches you the knowledge you require to succeed regardless of the other media that emerge soon. It's all dependent. It's all relative.

The bottom line is don't take a risk on an online platform because you like it. You're investing in creating a community that benefits your users, too.

2. Incorporate video.

Some people HATE videos. And I get it. It used to make me freak out as well. Today, video chats are one of my favourite methods of communicating. Fear can overcome you.

Video is the growth of digital content, and it's difficult to argue at the moment.

Nearly every social networking platform, including Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter/Periscope, and so on -- integrates video (and frequently live video) in their offerings.

If you're trying to determine which platform you should be using entirely, consider which one you could rock videos on in a manner that is comfortable for you.

Some suggestions:

Facebook Live

Instagram Stories

Uploading videos (or Facebook live clips) on your Instagram account

Live video streaming on Twitter

Snapchat

3. Which platform is most effective for promoting your brand?

If you're an artist or graphic design professional, Twitter may not be your primary source of income. However, Instagram or Snapchat could be a good fit because they're primarily visual.

If you're a motivational or inspirational speaker, It might be worth scheduling twice-weekly Facebook Live classes rather than uploading recycled quotes on your Instagram since you know they will be more meaningful to your followers. It's not just about what you like but also about which platform showcases the best aspects of your brand

Do I have to quit using my social networks on other websites?

Not necessarily. After you've found the top one or two methods of engagement the other, that doesn't mean that you have put everything in flames and then burned it all down.

You're still able to keep all of your accounts (who is aware of how things could change in the future, or the preferences of your followers could change! ). However, you don't have to be active everywhere once you've identified your leading Social Media platforms.

If you don't make a post on Twitter for one year, your company could still be solid and healthy. There's an opportunity that nobody will notice or even notice.

And, think about how much effort you could put into those channels that are significant to your target audience if you eliminate the unnecessary content robbing you of a few wasted hours each week—# no brainer.

Ultimately, it's about being mindful of what you do to improve your company. The majority of times, the feeling of overwhelm in business stems because you're trying to accomplish numerous things, many of which aren't even required to succeed.

what's the significance of social networks?

Since many people have asked me for my personal opinions on this subject (note that no one has asked me to give my thoughts on it), I thought I'd write a post about it.

Here's my opinion on what the purpose of social media could be:

Social media can help you expand your audience and increase sales of your products or services.

However, both of these are results of achieving the primary objective of social platforms.

To connect and engage your audience.

Instead of using social networks as a method to "convert", individuals consider it the opportunity to form bonds with people. The bond you issue is usually the thing that will turn them into existing customers or subscribers in the future because they trust you and like you.

In my opinion, you should utilize social media to create a community around your brand and make it more human rather than a method to turn someone into a buyer.

What are the ways you could do this?

Gary Vayner chuck just started the #5MinClub to foster community and engage. Gary Vayner chuck posts an Instagram post in which he offers his entrepreneurial view on anything. Everyone who posts their opinions on that subject in the comments within the first five minutes (using the hashtag #5minclub) is eligible to win fantastic cash prizes Gary offers.

The audience is being taught to connect to him...and as a consequence, they're engaging with one another (as they might want to react to others' remarks, whether they agree or not).

For a different idea, I also host a Facebook Live class on my Facebook Page each week to stay in touch with my friends and share some helpful information. It's an opportunity for me to interact in real-time and "in real life," instead of writing a blog article that doesn't convey my persona.

And Kayla Hollatz is the host of the weekly Twitter chat that brings her followers together each week to have a heartfelt business discussion. Other members can join their Facebook group to ask questions or share ideas. Some may post behind-the-scenes footage via Snapchat as well. Instagram Stories throughout the day.

However, those who use social media are typically not on every platform (when they are, you'll be able to bet on a team of folks running this show behind in the background).

Most people who excel on social media are only really skilled in one or two areas and don't worry about the rest. That's the main reason why I chose to write this blog. Ensure you can cut out the extra and focus on aspects that make you happy and actual outcomes for your business.

Anyone will inform you that "you want to increase the number of likes for your page on Facebook", but when you don't know how this will increase the number of people who are an active and profitable audience, Why are you doing it?

Simply put, Do not just aim to increase your following as if it's essential. Concentrate on creating high-quality content and engaging on just two platforms, and the crowd will be there.

It took me a while to realize that unless you take your social media strategy seriously, it's easy to get caught up in the trap of thinking that you have to be everywhere (which can dilute your image and reduce your possibilities of success).

That is why I am bringing you to my last point...

Social media isn't about email lists.

Social media is the perfect tool for displaying YOU, your style, and the amazing community you can create to promote your business However, it's not an email list. The list will likely not give you the same outcomes (revenue-wise) as an email list can.

Here's what I am referring to...

As I began my web design business, I was about social media. I tweeted. I Facebooked. I even staged gorgeous Instagram pictures because it was what most famous designers did.

It took me a LONG period every week to map everything out, plan my content, and then take my pictures. But I still had no inquiries despite the ad-hoc posting in my calligraphy (to be confirmed was kind of" the thing" a couple of years back).

My social media following was increasing. However, my bank account was not. Then, I began focusing on my mailing list and utilized social media to create a community rather than make people pay me.

It worked In the next few days, my design studio began to be booked months ahead of time with clients. And I was able to utilize social media to be a kid and create more bonds without the need to make it the most effective marketing tool.

First and foremost, increase the number of email subscribers you have. Also, focus on providing valuable content to your subscribers every week. Engaging your subscribers will soon create a community of passionate customers.

After that, move towards social media. But, as I said, there are only two platforms on which you can be involved and deliberate instead of being too scattered and apathetic with just one.

My primary method to interact and connect is through the live Facebook posts I host every month on my FB page and within my FB group. But, I'd love to expand the communities I build on Instagram because I know my friends are on there, and I love the creative possibilities it provides when I am willing to give up on the idea of perfection.

#social media #Youtube

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sidemari · 3 years

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Sorry if I’m doing this wrong- it’s my first time using tumblr and I’ve never requested anything </3 Anyways, could I reques a Venti x reader, where reader has hanahaki? Ou! Also with a bad ending please :} please and thank you!

"I was here all the time only you didn't see"

Pairing: Venti x GN!Reader

Warnings: None, it's angst.

Author's notes: Hey Mei, I hope you enjoy this text! Ty for the patience and also for the rq! I loved writing this. Could you or a pure soul give me feedback on my asks, pretty please? 💕

Picture by @Saasaamee on Pinterest.

Your grave looked really beautiful.

Cecilias were spread right above the earth, giving the place a hurtful melancholy.

The heart of the bard now ached like many years ago, when he lost a good old friend.

"Rest in peace, my muse"

His memories brought him back to the warm day you confessed to him.

You looked so beautiful.

So beautiful he could write many ballads and poems about you and your beauty.

But he didn't love you.

His heart didn't belong to you, even though your heart belonged to him.

He never felt anything else than admiration for you.

The lack of reciprocity started killing you.

They called it the Hanahaki Disease.

What a beautiful name for such a cruel path the ones affected by it should cross.

You hide it from him until your condition got worse.

You were able to hide it until the very ending of your life.

All the times you saw Venti running through Monstad carefreely, angst formed in the pit of your stomach because you knew he wouldn't be yours.

All the times he performed his songs to the Monstadians made your emotions became a wreck.

"The number of petals is growing with every day" You mumbled weakly after a coughing fit one day.

You knew what would happen.

You'd eventually die.

And you were willing to do so.

Venti wouldn't start loving you so you could be free of that mortal disease.

And you were completely against the idea of loosing all your memories and feelings only to continue with your meaningless life.

That was it.

Your life was completely meaningless without his love.

You didn't care if you loose your life if that meant you'd prove him how badly you wanted him by your side.

You couldn't care less about keep going with your life.

3 months.

3 months had passed after your confession.

The petals you coughed every single became actual flowers.

It was happening fast.

Perhaps the velocity the Hanahaki disease killed you was proportional the devotion you had towards your loved one?

You didn't know. And you didn't want to know so.

The flowers you coughed for the first time looked beautiful.

Cecilias.

They were his favorite flower.

They were the proof of your love towards him.

You were happy with the flower your disease had chosen.

The white petals you once coughed could be from any flower out there but now you were sure they were indeed Cecilias.

"(Name), you should choose the surgery so you can stay alive before it's too late. I don't want to loose you, you're so precious to me" One friend of yours told you the first time they saw you coughing the pretty white flower.

You were ashamed.

Someone had discovered your secret.

You should have been more careful.

How could you let someone visit you while you were suffering from the Hanahaki Disease?

"If I choose the surgery I will forget about you. I will forget about who I truly am. I will forget about him" The salty tears couldn't stop streaming down your pretty face. "I can't do that. I will loose my essence if I do so"

Your friend was completely destroyed inside by your words.

But they weren't so broken like you.

You were feeling way worse than them.

How could the mind of a person who chose die for love be any calm?

5 months.

The pretty flowers became little bouquets of Cecilias.

You couldn't save your life anymore.

The surgery to take off the plant roots from your organism wouldn't work at that point.

The only two options you had now were:

Gaining his love.

Or dying.

One day you were at Stormterror's Lair, enjoying the peaceful yet sorrowful atmosphere.

Another bouquet left your throat and mouth.

Dear archons, it hurted.

It hurted like pure hell.

It hurted you physically but even more emotionally.

You knew you couldn't fight against your fate any longer.

That same day Venti saw your suffering for the first time.

He was the one who made you like that.

And he felt completely guilty about it.

He felt sick to his stomach the moment you told him you hadn't chosen the surgery.

He even tried to seek anything more from the admiration he felt towards you.

But the feeling didn't hit him.

He was completely unable to love you like the way you did with him.

He couldn't save you from your destiny.

7 months.

The bouquets got bigger.

And your pain got worse.

The day you saw Venti playing his lyre at the central plaza of the City of Freedom was the day you knew you'd be gone.

No escape.

His green eyes glowed with pure happiness as he hugged some people of his nation while your tears made your eyes burn and the need to cough became too hurtful to you hold it, even in public.

Blood.

Blood stained the bouquet of Cecilias.

Your end was near.

You just wanted to farewell him.

He saw you even with the crowd that suffocated him.

He saw you even though your frame was distant from him.

Running towards you, he took your almost lifeless body to the place where you both first met.

Starsnatch Cliff, the place where the Cecilias grow.

"I love you, (Name). Please, don't leave me"

"Venti, I know it's not true. Instead, I would be cured from this suffering. You don't love me and there's nothing wrong about that"

You caressed his cheek.

"I don't want to loose you! Please, stay with me a little longer!" He screamed when your body collapsed against the ground, but his voice sounded low.

Why did his voice sound so quiet?

You blinked slowly continually while Venti tried to bring your energies back.

"And it's no use looking for me in other timbres or other laughs. I was here all the time only you didn't see" His heart skipped a beat with your line.

"(Name), please. Listen to me! Stay with me, I will find a cure somehow"

"I love you, Venti. And I will always do"

Your grave looked really beautiful.

Cecilias were spread right above the earth, giving the place a hurtful melancholy.

The heart of the bard now ached like many years ago, when he lost a good old friend.

"Rest in peace, my muse"

He whispered, before leaving the place your grave was at.

The stunning location you both once met, long years ago, had became extremely dreary as you rested from your suffering.

#venti #venti x reader #venti x you #venti x y/n #venti genshin impact #hanahaki #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin imagines #genshin oneshot #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #venti genshin x reader

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altcomics · 3 years

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damn bitch, you live like this?

in defense of the poor bedroom (feb 2020)

Ivan Johansson

Untitled (My bed), 2018. Meme.

the poor bedroom is a battleground of moral superficiality. it leaves your clothes reeking when you exit, sticks to your feet. melting the material and metaphysical artefacts of adolescence-adulthood transition together, eradicates distinguishability. it upsets comforts, distills, organises, entices, and depraves through its construing of lethargic middle class disidentification. it’s inherited through the quasi-poor bedrooms of the grown, functioning, hard working, depressed, balanced, disenfranchised, safe, unemployed, and rich who can no longer claim the poor bedroom.

Iku Nagae in a messy room, 2018. Posted to Funnyjunk by @greeeed.

the poor bedroom is rebelling against, not only its parents, but its maid. it’s re-gentrifying, nature-reinforcing, eco system-embracing, liquifying the fixed notions of precious and disposable, letting laziness cascade in utter refusal of home styling conformity. between days of dried plates, forgotten-about tea cups, face down books, entangled tights, chords, cash, personal letters, official documents, ripped packaging, torn pages, an undeniably assertive space is constructed. equally a signifier of neglect and detailed planning, the poor bedroom jumps out, startles its tourists and demands a negotiation of standards, values, levels of taste.

Instagram Posts, 2019. Dasha Nekrassova (@dash_cam).

the poor bedroom does not moralise over hygiene, discomfort, or 21st century allergenicity. it feeds off overtime, covered shifts, all nighters, and apathy hours. the poor bedroom devours every last bit of stressed essay writing, depression holes, single parents, and maraton ravers it can get its hands on. it is aware of its borders, there’s no poor bedroom in the home of a hoarder, but emphasises the potential limitlessness that it carries where its edges crumble. it whispers of the poor society, a thing that might have been but more importantly as an insurrection flickering on the horizon. by enhancing a chaos that is otherwise contextualised as a belonging of the past the poor bedroom, just like the dirty alley and the contents of a torn garbage bag spread all over the bus stop, scratches the varnish that envelops sociopolitical mechanisms, urging us to redefine our ethical relation to the neat and tidy. it tells us; i’ve been here all along, you did not use to despise me, and yet, we have ended up in this situation.

Otaku room pinned by @Rinji_Mifuzu on pinterest.

the poor bedroom is not an invention but an invitation. entering is considered, rather than an action taken for granted. furthermore the poor bedroom insists on that consideration being kept in motion by innovating technology through sloppiness, reformatting conventions of the home experience, and stripping the room of one's own bare from voyeuristic ideals leaving always-altering ruins of the everyday that passed just moments ago. and what bounty within those ruins, the poor bedroom offers us its treasures only through scavenging; fragments of a living in every kind of condition.

Shitty battlestation found on /r/shittybattlestations.

when the poor bedroom gets cleaned up it, in fact, does not die. it has no enemies. under current circumstances it cannot be destroyed, only transferred from one form to another. it respawns at any given checkpoint, it is always given another chance until it defeats the boss. it lurks in the walls, the air even, awaiting its next opportunity of expansion, like a parasite hangs on a strand of grass in anticipation of a passing by mammal to bite in to. the poor bedroom hits you and it feels like a kiss.

Tweet, 2017. @elotepreparado.

the poor bedroom is the success of the adolescent class. the poor bedroom is chaos, thus feminine, and its pubertal afflictions on the nuclear home is intimately tied to the young-girl. the poor bedroom is not featured on hoarders nor obsessive compulsive cleaners, since it manifests through passive strategizing rather than pathology. it needs not be saved, but recognized and dealt with as its discrete foundational ideological stances. the poor bedroom spreads, swallows bathrooms, closets, kitchens, it is the metamorphosis of the living space induced by a disavowal of norm-architectural structuring of ‘the room of one's own’. there is no negligence present in a poor bedroom, but precise and intricate re-distribution of order executed with warm care. the poor bedroom is shocking, merely in its upsetting radiance of love. the poor bedroom is skinny, fuck satisfactual lives. no soap is cut, no sand is squeezed, in the poor bedroom, without engendering an overcompensatory mess. the poor bedroom feeds on caffeine. it fears not konmari, for its inherited self-awareness of resilience.

Top: Domain (Still), 2006. Guthrie Lonergan.

Bottom: Dorm Daze, 2011. Ed Fornieles in The Hangover Part II at Carlos Ishikawa, London.

the poor bedroom maneuvers skilfully through networks of aesthetic-conventional imperatives to successfully breach and dissolve coherent borders of dignity within the context of the home. the home at its fundamentals is questioned through the poor bedrooms mimicry of unsupervised alleys. the streets and the subway stations are the poor bedrooms allys. the poor bedroom is an ecosystem on which surveillance inflicts harm. the scar tissue of the poor bedrooms skin grows thick and resistant.

Instagram story, 2019. Anna Khachyian (@annakhachyian).

the poor bedroom does not only ‘bring joy’, it is the principle of joy, the condition for anything to bring joy, within contemporary childhood. during the incongruous infantilizing process of growing up in a world composed by roles that keep precarity and speculation as their ideological fundaments the poor bedrooms ability of recourse and sanctuary is perpetuated out of desperation, as a last nostalgic resort that persuades its own continuous re-establishment. the poor bedroom is allowed to hide, it conceals and contours in order to keep its process of rooting and rotting going during moments of mania and post-cum clarity.

SKEE, 2019. Bora Akinciturk and Iain Ball at Narrative Projects, London.

no space is as ideologically unbound as the poor bedroom, which in its anarchy disrupts neo-liberal facades and while maneuvering its compliant consumption – articulating a capitalist plea – boasting both puppy eyes and a contemptuous laugh in the face of whatever hegemony it comes across. don’t try anything in its presence, staring into these puppy eyes you will soon find its the predecessor to orwell’s big brother, but a reversed entity – blind as a bat, only peering inwards, structuring its chaos, engaging a mosh pit of commodities as a pastime. establish a new decadence, drink it in, let it enrich you.

Tweet, 2016. @og_pochahontas.

#Ivan Johansson

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suchalonelysunflower · 3 years

Text

Be Alright (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: You go on tour with Luke and the boys for the first time, but things don’t go as planned as you try to fit in.

Warnings: Angst with Fluff. Anxiety, panic attacks, low self esteem. Language. Hostility. Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 6.9 k

Author’s Note: This fic takes place after the pandemic. It deals with anxiety and panic attacks, but please remember that the symptoms as well as what the person experiences it’s always different, this is just how I see and experience these cases. Please, if you want to learn more about them get informed by a reliable source. Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Likes and Feedback are much appreciated and you don’t know how much it helps me! ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🌻🦋✨

My materialist // wanna be part of my taglist?

Picture taken from Pinterest

@theshyspy : (...) So I was wondering if you could write something with Luke or cal (whoever feels most natural?) where the reader just gets really anxious and he takes care of her and calms her down? maybe making sure she eats and/ or drinks enough, that she gets some rest, perhaps he sings for her? Idk just some fluff🤷🏼‍♀️ (It’s totally ok if you don’t want to, or don’t feel comfortable writing it !! I know it can be triggering for some people so just leave it if it bothers you in any way!!🙆🏼‍♀️💕)

The feeling of an ice-cold touch shook you out of your dreamless sleep. You nearly jumped out of your seat before remembering where you were and what you were doing.

The light came through the small window, illuminating your seats and the small aisle that separated you from your friends. The air conditioner was turned off and you made a mental note to thank Luke later, he knew how cold you get on these travels.

Speaking of “Why are your hands so damn cold?!” You scolded your boyfriend as you rub your eyes, trying to wake up and steady your heartbeat from the scare you just got.

Luke just pressed his lips in a thin line, not wanting to laugh at your sudden reaction but also not to smile like an idiot due to your sleepy state. Even after a 15-hour flight you still looked cute as hell in his eyes.

“Sorry, love,” He said with a smile once you looked at him “I was having a drink, and then came time to wake you up. I didn’t notice my hands were cold”

You murmured some gibberish close to an ‘okay’ and yawned “How long was I out?”

Luke cringed “20 minutes”

“What?!”

It was no surprise, you could never sleep well in places that were not a proper bed. You didn’t want to think about how it would be like to sleep in a bunk next to your six-foot-four Australian boyfriend.

“I thought I slept longer” You pouted “Although it didn’t feel like much”

“Another bad dream?” He asked, placing his head on your shoulder as he intertwined his fingers with yours, slowly playing with them.

“A lack thereof, actually,” You said, yawning again “But don’t worry, I’ll sleep when we get to the hotel”

Luke smiled and brought your hands to his lips, softly placing a kiss on your knuckles as you cuddled next to him.

Your heart was beating loud and you hoped he wouldn’t notice, or if he did then he did not say anything and you were grateful. It was stressful enough to travel on tour for the first time and to know that you might bring him down with your anxious overthinking was not doing great with you.

Luckily, your mind grew quiet as Calum popped his head from the seat in front of you.

“Excited for your first tour?” He asked with a grin. He looked brand new, and as you looked around you realized they all do. For a moment there you had to remind yourself that this is what they do for a living.

“Mmh hmm” You hummed, head still placed over Luke’s while you played with his hair “Kinda nervous, though” You admitted.

“Why?” This time it was Ashton the one who asked, popping his head from the seats next to yours as he joined the conversation “It’s going to be fun! Like a big road trip” He chuckled.

“Yeah but-” Your voice was cut out by the pilot who announced over the speakers your arrival at the airport.

You thought about sharing your fears with the boys, given that this was your first time flying across the world with them you didn’t exactly know what to expect and you were scared to find that out in the worst situations. But then, how could they know? After all, how much pressure could they have when they pretty much secured the love of everyone? You, however, were just the girlfriend and it almost felt like you have to earn that place on tour.

The fans will be looking at them but criticizing you. It’s not like it would be your first time dealing with it since you went public with your relationship, God knows it’s not easy dealing with that But it won’t be just them this time, there’s also the paparazzi, the crew, the boys themselves even if they don’t notice; they are all expecting you to be ready and up for it, perfect all the time. Not to mention the stress of traveling and the schedules, the jet lag and the-

Once again your thoughts were put on pause before you could finish overthinking them as you felt Luke shake next to you. You met his gaze but he was looking to the side, trying hard to stiffen his laughter as Ashton dropped an ice cube into Michael's back under his shirt, waking him up with a jump and a mix of curses.

You shook your head and laughed along with them. You should be thankful for having them, after all, they are your friends and they could help you manage all of those pits of anxiety that started to grow. Anything could happen on this tour and, at least you know that you won’t be bored.

Luke helped you with your carry-out and let you walk in front of him, all while placing his hands on the sides of your waist and walking -or actually more like waddling along with you. You giggled as he placed his head on top of yours, making it difficult to walk for the both of you but he wasn’t going to let go. That’s one of the things you love about him; he is never afraid to show his affection and be close to you, almost in a protective manner. You feel safe with him and you know the feeling is mutual.

You laughed with the rest of the boys as you made your way to claim your luggage, joking around and teasing each other much to the annoyance of the other passengers. You felt how Luke’s chest rumbled with laughter, and in the few quiet moments, you got while waiting for your bags he managed to hold you closer and press little kisses around your forehead and cheeks, making you giggle in his tight embrace. You almost forgot how tired you were from the flight.

Almost. But your body had a different plan.

As your bags were taking their sweet time, you could hear the distant voices of the boys drifting away from you. Slowly, you began to drift away too, your eyelids becoming heavy as you struggled to stay up. Soon enough, the notices became a light buzzing sound inside your head.

“Y/N?” Luke asked as he felt you become heavier on his grip “Baby?” He looked down at your face and saw you fight to get your eyes open and failed to do so as they kept shutting without your permission.

He cringed as he saw your tired face, knowing that he was once again tasked with the job of waking you up. If it were up to him, he would’ve carried you in his arms all the way to the van just for you to get some sleep. But it was common for them for fans to welcome them in the airport accompanied by some paparazzi who tried to get a bad shot out of them and, despite his wishes for you to be completely rested and healthy, he needed to wake you up.

“Y/N, are you alright, love?” He asked whispering in your ear, rubbing his hands up and down your arms hoping that in that way he could somehow share some of his energy with you.

You quickly came back to your senses once you felt Luke’s arms leave your waist and hold you by your shoulders and elbows. A red flush covered your face as you realized where you were standing -and almost falling, asleep.

“Y-yeah,” You said, standing up straight as you pull away from his hold, somehow trying to prove your point “I’m just-“

“Tired. Yeah, it’s okay” Luke reassured you as he came closer and wrapped you in his arms by the waist “I was just like you when I experienced my first jet lag. It will go away”

You scoffed “Yeah? In how long?”

“In like four months when we get home” He teased, immediately bursting into laughter when he saw you glare at him.

You slightly punched his chest, mocking anger. But soon enough you found yourself laughing along “I think I just need to eat something”

Luke stopped laughing, replacing his smile with a concerned gaze “Didn’t you eat on the plane?”

“I couldn’t. I tried to eat while you were asleep, but my stomach just rejected the food so I chose to wait until we were on land”

Luke shook his head and was about to say something when Calum interrupted him to give you both your bags.

“Those were the last ones,” He said “We need to get going”

Luke nodded as he watched him walk away, turning to you once he was out of sight.

You could feel his worried stare, but you just smiled at him as you placed your hand on his cheek “Don’t worry love. I can buy something from here and then eat some real food at the hotel if that would make your worries go away”

He just sighed and nodded. You smiled reassuringly at him and brought him closer to peck his lips “Love you”

“Love you, too,” He said with a love fool grin “Ready to start the tour?” He asked excitedly.

You nodded enthusiastically as you grabbed his hand and started walking along with him towards the gates, feeling ready to face up anything.

Well, you weren’t ready to face up to what ensued.

As soon as those gates opened you were bombarded with flashes of cameras and screams from thousands of people.

Fans were gathered outside the airport gates, waiting for their favorite band to arrive. Of course, this led to the paparazzi being there as well, waiting to get an inside scoop of the boys’ first arrival on their world tour after the pandemic.

There were too many people for you to be able to see more than three meters in front of you. All of them were shouting Luke’s name as he tried to make his way out of there and lead you to safety.

You lifted your gaze and saw how he was smiling at the fans, waving with his free hand as his grip on your hand became tighter. Strangers were approaching the both of you very quickly, pushing their way to the front as they asked and demanded a picture of an autograph.

Your personal space was becoming smaller and smaller as they pushed through you, trying to separate you from your boyfriend’s grip. They bumped your shoulder and kicked your sides with elbows and frantic arms. You felt your voice getting drowned out as you called for Luke, hoping that he could hear you over the commotion and come help you out.

It all happened so fast. Luke let go of your hand by accident for just one second as he tried to look back at you. His heart shattered as he struggled to find your eyes in the crowd of pleas and flashing cameras “Y/N?!” He called, trying to appear calm in front of those strangers, but on the inside he was desperate, kicking himself over and over for ever letting go of your hand.

And then, he heard it “Luke!”

Your eyes were wide and filled with tears as people pushed through you to get to him. His eyes filled with regret as he sucked on a breath and walked towards you, easily making his way back as all of the people who were standing there stepped aside to let him through. No one pushed him, no one yelled at him for stepping into their place. No one dared to disrespect him as they disrespected you.

In a matter of seconds, Luke was standing in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You felt like you could breathe again.

“You okay?” He asked, mumbling as he kissed your head. You heard the faintest “aww” coming from the fans witnessing this little gesture and confusing with something cute instead of what it was: he was shielding you from them, protecting you while comforting you the best he could. Yet, all you could hear was Luke’s beating heart as you hid your face in his chest.

“Let’s get out of here,” Luke said, tensing his whole body as he pulled you to the side, not letting go of his grip to your waist as you walked rapidly towards the exit.

You both ignored the calls and flashed from your surroundings. You could feel your breathing becoming heavier as you tried to keep up with his steps, not really relaxing until you saw the van’s door opening and Calum making space for the both of you.

You jumped inside the car and Luke quickly followed, closing the door and letting out a breath he was holding.

“So…” Ashton said, breaking the silence after they drove away “That was fun. Nothing like a little chaos to start the tour”

For the first time in your life, you wanted to punch his face. Your heart was still beating loudly inside your chest and they were all so calm. It truly seemed like they didn’t care that you just went through one of the scariest experiences of your life.

Yeah, you know you might be exaggerating. But it’s your first flight with the boys, first time in a foreign country, first time with a multitude of fans and photographers where they all pushed you to get to your boyfriend. And they were all fine? Like it wasn’t a big deal? And they say it was fun?

The chattering continued, all three of them talking about the fans they saw and how they reacted to them. Joking around and teasing each other for various reasons. No one noticed how your hands were shaking or how you didn’t say a word since you got up in the car.

You tried to steady your breath and to hide your hands somewhere until they were cool. You still feel a sting where one girl elbowed you, knowing it might leave a bruise. You tried to close your eyes and think about nice things to get you off your mind for a while, but all you could see was how Luke drifted away from you, going farther and farther as you lost sight of him; and no matter how hard you yelled his name, your voice was drowned and lost among all the others.

The tears started to pick up in your eyes and you held them back as hard as you could. You needed to be strong, this is just the first stop of the tour and you needed to toughen up if you want to keep up. You just hoped you could do it before anyone noticed it.

Luke was sitting beside you, not participating in the conversation of his bandmates, but rather he was looking at you and how your leg bounced up and down in a rapid motion.

He knew your mind must be going ten miles per hour at this moment. You weren’t used to this whole lifestyle and for that to be your first experience must be nerve-wracking. He wished he could just erase all those bad feelings and bring you the comfort you deserve.

“Hey,” He finally said, softly enough for you to hear as he leaned closer to you. Your eyes quickly snapped in his direction, finding some kind of peace in his baby blue eyes “Are you okay?”

He knew the answer was no, but he also knew you would never admit that, so it was no surprise when you smiled at him and nodded. Only this time the smile didn’t reach your eyes like they always do.

“You know just… a bit tired, that’s all,” You said, not wanting to worry him. But it was a little bit late for that and you noticed that the instant he furrowed his brows and gave you the ‘I know you’re lying’ look.

“Are you sure? Because that out there was pretty crazy and-“

“I’m fine, Luke” You reassured him, scooting closer to him and leaning against his frame. He immediately rounded his arm around your shoulder and started drawing circles on your skin with his thumb “I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I just need you close for a while, is that okay?”

Luke sighed and held you tighter “Yeah, of course, love. Whatever you need. You should try to get some sleep, I’m sorry we couldn’t buy you anything to eat back in the airport”

You look around you. All the boys were singing and joking around, not paying attention to you and Luke; making it difficult for you to just drift back to sleep.

“No, don’t worry. I’m okay. I’ll eat and sleep when we get to the hotel”

You watched the scenery pass by as the car drove you to your destination. You tried to focus on the conversations going around you, but you were too distracted by the beauty of it all.

It amazed you how after such a scary experience could come such comfort; you were surrounded by your best friends and your lover, experiencing new things and memories you knew you needed to treasure forever.

From time to time you could feel Luke staring at you, almost like he wanted to make sure you were okay and you would reassure him with soft smiles and little pecks on the cheeks as the other guys reminisced about their previous times abroad.

Suddenly, the car came to a stop and you found yourselves parked in a huge parking lot. You looked at Luke with a confused expression and he did the same. You didn’t know where you were.

“Uh, why are we stopping?” He asked as Calum and Ashton opened their doors and stepped out of the van.

“Because we are here?” Michael asked, not getting his friend’s confusion.

“This is the hotel?” You asked.

“This is the venue…” Michael said, pulling a lever so he could push Calum’s seat out of the way and step outside “We are not going to the hotel till tonight”

“What?!” Luke half asked, half yelled.

“Yeah, dude. We’re behind schedule so we need to do a quick soundcheck and then hop in the car and go do a couple of interviews in radio stations… did you not read the email?”

Luke facepalmed himself “No…” He lamented as he rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, then he looked at you with apologetic eyes “Oh my god, Y/N. I’m so sorry, love”

“It’s okay, Luke” It was not okay, you really wanted to take a nap and a shower before the show. But you couldn’t have avoided this at any cost and it wasn’t his fault at all, so there was no need to bring him down because of this.

“No! Of course, it’s not okay. You need to rest and eat a proper meal. This is it fair to you and I’m so sorry”

You could tell that he was kicking himself inside his head and you hated to see him all worked up and anxious. It broke your heart to see him so frustrated with himself.

Your palms cupped his face and made him look at you “Luke, baby. It’s fine, I promise. It will be fun! Plus, I can always nap on the couch” But he didn’t look conceived at all “I’ll be fine”

He sighed “Promise you will eat something there? And drink some water?”

You nodded with a smile “I promise. Now go! You have a soundcheck to kill” You winked at him and pecked his lips before jumping out of the van.

“What would I do without you?”

After the quick soundcheck, the boys changed clothes and got ready for an afternoon filled with interviews and quick appearances. It was going to be a wild ride, so you opted out of staying in the venue until they got back.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Luke asked for the tenth time.

“Of course she will!” Intervened Ashton “She’s Y/N/N, she can take care of herself”

You rolled your eyes at him and stared back at your boyfriend “I’ll be fine, love. I’ll just stay right here and maybe I’ll take a nap”

“And you know where the catering room is?”

You certainly didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that right now. You would manage well enough.

“Yes, dad” You teased

“Y/N!” Luke mocked a shocked expression “Not in front of the boys!”

You scoffed and lightly pushed him in the chest “You pig! Not everything has to be dirty!”

“You started it!”

“Go!” You laughed, kissing him one last time “Give your fans some content”

You saw the four of them walk through the door and you let out an exhausted breath. This is the first time you allowed yourself to relax since you boarded the plane almost 24 hours ago and you were beyond tired at this point.

How did they do it? Fly across the world and still look like superstars, what kind of deal did they make, and with whom?

You looked around the green room, your eyes landing on your reflection. You physically cringed at the image in front of you; dark heavy bags rested under your eyes and your hair, although pulled back, seemed oily and tangled in knots; your clothes had wrinkles in them and you seriously regretted sending your luggage directly to the hotel, leaving you with this shirt, a hoodie, and your black jeans.

A sigh escaped your lips as you tried to think of nice things; things that would keep your mind out of overthinking every single detail that has gone wrong since the minute you left home. How were you supposed to prove that you belong on the tour if you couldn’t even handle the first day? You needed to gain your energy back before the guys came back, and what better medicine than a little nap?

You moved Ashton’s heavy bag from one corner of the couch and laid on your back, but the awaited relief never came. You tossed and turned in different positions, hissing every time the warm leather glued itself to your skin only for it to be peeled off with every movement.

The sounds from outside of the room grew louder as the crew hurried to put everything in its place on time for the show. People were running in and outside the green room, not paying attention to you laying on the couch trying to find an ounce of sleep as they focused on their tasks.

You don’t know how long it’s been and, honestly, you’re afraid to ask. It was clear that you were not going to get any sleep here, not while everyone’s acting frantic because of a scheduling mishap and not while your mind is still preoccupied trying to keep up instead of relaxing as Luke told you to do.

You tried one last time to get at least a five-minute nap, but it was almost impossible. You opened your eyes with a groan and got up, so frustrated that you didn’t even feel the burn on your skin when you separated yourself from the uncomfortable couch.

The second your feet touched the ground and you lifted yourself on your feet, everything started to spin. You felt how your blood seemed to have disappeared from your body, leaving only a carcass that couldn’t stand for itself, making you fall on your ass back into the couch.

You felt nauseous, but the growling in your stomach reminded you that you haven’t eaten in all day. You had to eat something before you passed out, but the mere thought of eating made you feel even dizzier if that was possible.

You counted to ten, ignoring the way your head pounded with loud warnings and stood up. It took you a few seconds to find your balance again, but once you started walking you felt like you couldn’t stop.

You got out of the room, not really knowing where the catering was but you were determined to get there. You couldn’t let Luke and the rest see you like that, so weak and pathetic. It’s just day one and you are already passing out? How stupid is that!

The loud bangs in your head increased with every step you took, soon becoming voices that screamed inside your mind, drowning every ounce of clarity you might have; turning to the right and then to the left, then to the end of the hallway and back to the right. Did you even know where you were going?

Did you even know why you were here?

It was bound to happen, sooner or later, that Luke would ask you to accompany him on tour. Bet he is regretting that decision now. You tried, you really tried to be the supporting girlfriend, but how could you be of any support when you were the one who needed it? He didn’t come here to be your nanny and yet all he’s done is worry about you! You should be able to take care of yourself, yet you can’t even do that for him.

What a terrible girlfriend you were. He will surely break up with you and send you back home on the next flight. He didn’t need this kind of energy, this cloud of darkness you were becoming, ready to drown out his light with your problems. If only you could do better for him. For Luke.

Luke, the simple thought of him brought you to the brink of tears. You loved him so much, so much that it hurt to love him yet at the same time it was the best comfort in the world just to be standing by his side. You wanted to be by his side and never let go, but you were pushing away from him. Your mind and meaningless needs were separating you from him, telling you that he deserves someone better, more equipped to handle the lifestyle you weren’t ready for.

He is the brightest star in the universe and you are just a firefly, trying hard to be something you’d never be and everyone can see it. The fans see it, the media sees it and even your friends will someday. They will realize that you were nothing more than a girl who just hoped she could be enough but ended up becoming one more burden to carry with.

You couldn’t survive out here, not right now, and not without Luke. You are falling and you feel like if you stay you might drown him with you. You were disappointing him right now, pacing around the-

Where the fuck were you?

The voice inside your head died down as you didn’t recognize the place where you were standing.

You were supposed to be on your way to catering, and you were… but you didn’t know where it was and now you don’t know where you are.

Great.

The screams of the fans reverberated through the walls of the narrow hallway, you only now realize that the doors must be open and the show is about to start. You brought a hand to your back pocket, thinking about calling Luke and telling him your situation and asking him how to get to where they were. But your pockets were flat and your phone was nowhere to be seen, you must’ve left it in the greenroom.

“Fuck!” You yelled, voice hoarse from not having drunk anything since this morning. You looked to your left and there was just a blank wall staring back at you with no way out. You thought about going back, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were heading, so you risked the fact of getting more lost before someone could find you.

Fuck it.

You turned around and started walking, faster and faster. You were almost jogging through the deserted hallways trying to find your way back. You were panicking with every turn, every curve. To the right, then left, then a left, and a right again. You could hear the faintest riff of a guitar, so you speed up your pace. Your exhaustion had nothing compared to the fear in the pit of your stomach, you needed to get back. You needed to be there for Luke, to find your way back.

The desperation you held inside made you ignore the tears that were spilling out of your eyes without permission. You didn’t want to be alone anymore in a place you don’t know. You are sure your mind is playing tricks on you, making the hallways longer and the seconds everlasting, constantly repeating in your head how you were nothing more than a little lost girl who was playing something she shouldn’t. Something she wouldn’t ever be.

People passed you as you turned around corners, your heart beating loud as you recognized some faces from the crew, getting closer and closer to where you were supposed to be.

And finally, you arrived.

You let out a breath, you didn’t know if it was from relief or just a way to drown out the sob that was threatening to come out. You made a move to open the door but you noticed your hands were shaking. A cold feeling ran through your body, making you shiver as you wiped your sweaty palms on the front of your jeans. You were so close but why did you feel so far away? Drifting and drifting further and further….

What was happening?

“Y/N?”

You heard your name being called by a familiar voice. You lifted your head and saw Michael standing at the door of the green room, his eyes scanning you carefully. You swore you could see a hint of fear in them. He quickly moved out of the way, opening the door wider so you could step in.

You lifted your gaze, your teary eyes meeting Luke’s as he stood in the middle of the room, pacing back and forward with his phone in his hand, gripping it so tightly you thought it might crack.

“There you are!” He said, pressing a button on his screen. He was smiling, relief visible on his features as his eyes took you in “I’ve been looking for you, the opening band already started playing and- Y/N?”

Suddenly, everything stopped. Luke’s eyes denoted fear as he saw you collapse to your knees the moment you stepped into the room. He saw everything happen in slow motion: the way you wrapped your arms around your stomach; the shaking of your entire frame as you let out a heavy breath mixed with a sob; and the tears in your eyes as you tried to make sense of what was happening to you.

He acted fast. In one swift move, he was kneeling in front of you, taking you in his arms as he pulled you closer to his chest “She’s having a panic attack!” He said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, but none of his friends moved as they were still shocked by the image of you falling into the ground.

“Michael!” He called, remembering that people act better in an emergency if given direct orders “Go find a doctor. Ashton, bring her something to eat. And Calum, find water and soda. She’s dehydrated and needs some sugar”

All three of them didn’t think twice before jumping out of their seats and running through the halls to find those things for you. But you couldn't hear any of that.

“I’m sorry,” You cried, over and over again “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Shh, love” Luke cooed, lifting you and sitting back down on the couch, placing you on his lap as he rocked you back and forwards “It’s okay love. Nothing to be sorry for, I’m here. I’m here”

You kept crying into his chest, struggling to breathe as every sob seemed to tear your throat in two. You knew Luke was touching you, but you couldn’t feel his hands anywhere as you shook through your cries.

“Baby- Y/N, listen to me. Okay?” He said with a calming voice, completely contrasting how he was feeling inside “Listen to my voice, baby. Breathe with me, okay? One,” He inhaled deeply, his finger tracing a line up your back so you could follow him “Two” He exhaled, bringing his finger down “Good, do that again, please? One, two”

He was trying so hard not to panic along with you. Seeing you so frail in his arms made his heart break into a million pieces. He didn’t know what was going on in your mind or why or what you were apologizing for. All he knows is that he would do anything not to hear your broken cries again, so desperate and hopeless. He would do anything to make sure you are alright and safe.

You imitated Luke’s breathing pattern as close as you could. Breathing in and out every time he asked until you could feel his finger running up and down your spine, his touch finally bringing some comfort to your body and mind as they recognized him. They recognized home.

Your cries died down the moment Michael stepped through the door accompanied by a nurse, Ashton, and Calum who all brought some type of food and drink to lay down on the table.

Luke made some space so the nurse could sit down next to you, but he never once let go of you or stopped moving his finger on your back. He needed you to know that he was still here and he was not going anywhere.

“She seems good,” The nurse said after quickly giving you a check-up “It was just a panic attack. You did well in calming her down” He said to Luke, giving him a pat on the back “I’m gonna leave here some pills for her to take once she eats and drinks something, these will help with the body ache and headache she will feel later and also will help her sleep”

The four men thanked the nurse as Michael closed the door again. All eyes were fixed on you as you rested your head on Luke’s shoulder, eyes closed as your breathing became even and lighter again.

“Is that-? Is that a half-eaten burger?” Calum asked, pointing to the table filled with foods and drinks, and breaking the silence that had set upon them.

“I panicked!” Ashton answered.

“Could you guys give us a moment, please?” Luke asked, eyes never leaving your face as he held you closer. His friends nodded and walked out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

“I’m sorry, bub,” You said, voice broken and soft.

You slowly opened your eyes and suddenly felt like crying again when you met Luke’s gaze. Surprised at the fact that he didn’t seem angry; all you could see in his eyes was a relief.

“Why are you sorry, love?” He asked, voice as soft as yours as he caressed your cheeks with the back of his free hand “You have nothing to apologize for. These things happen and we can’t really avoid them”

“No,” You said, pushing away from him as you separated from his lap and went to sit on the spot next to him.

Luke’s heart broke at your actions, but it completely shattered when he saw the tears picking up in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry for ruining everything” Your voice broke as you started talking “I’m sorry for being one more burden in this tour that hasn’t even started yet. Look at me! Not even a day in and I’m already falling apart! This is not what you expected of me, Luke and don’t try to deny it. I’ve disappointed you, the band, myself-”

“You did not do such a thing” He tried to say, but you weren’t listening.

“Maybe I’m not meant for this” Your words took his breath right out of his mouth, he didn’t like where this conversation was going “Maybe I’m better off at home. At least there I’m not embarrassing myself in airports or with your fans or with your bandmates and crew- I want to be someone you would be proud of but all I do is overthink every little thing that I forget the rest. I tried so hard to keep up, to prove to you and the others and even myself that I could belong here on tour; that I could live this life with ease as you all do and I just keep failing everyone. I love you, Luke. But I can’t stand the thought of slowing you or pulling you down with me, and you don’t deserve to be tied up with some mess like me-”

Your words were cut off by Luke’s lips clashing with yours. It took you a minute to respond and kiss him back, letting all your worries slip away for only one minute. Only one minute where you could pretend that everything was alright.

Luke pulled away first, placing his forehead against yours “You uplift me, Y/N”

“What?”

He cupped your cheeks, making you look at him as he spoke with such care and love.

“You could never bring me down, you are the one keeping me above the water, my love. I deserve to be with you as much as you deserve to be right here with us”

“Luke-”

“It’s my fault,” He said with a sad voice, you opened your mouth to say something but he beat you to it “Don’t try to deny it, Y/N. It’s true. I should’ve prepared you more for what was coming instead of throwing you into the lion's den without a single warning. I knew from the moment I saw your face in the crowd back at the airport that I had failed you, not the other way around. But you stayed, you pulled through and told me that it was okay when it clearly wasn’t. Y/N, you are stronger than any of us and much more caring and loving… I’m so proud of you and that I get to call you to mine that sometimes I can’t even believe it”

He carefully wiped a tear from your cheek, his heart fluttering with joy at seeing you smile back at him “I love you. And if you say that you are not ready for this, then I will book you a flight tonight. I don’t want to see you in pain, my love, even if you try to hide it. I couldn’t stand the thought of being the one who breaks you” He took a moment, thinking over his words “But if you decide to stay. I promise you I will make every single minute of it worth it. I’ll protect you better. I’ll do my best to take care of you the same way you take care of me. You’re my angel, Y/N. And I need you close”

Tears were falling down your eyes again as you pulled him closer into a hug. Luke quickly swung your legs over his lap and held you as tight as he could, almost fearing that you would slip off his embrace if he ever let you go.

You could hear him mumbling something as he rocked the two of you back and forwards again, this time to comfort you both. You pulled your head slightly from his chest so you could hear him better, he was singing the words from “Still”, your favorite Niall Horan’s song.

”Oh, we'll be alright

Oh, it'll be alright”

You always loved when he sang to you, always bringing you the sense of peace you so much needed.

But as you cuddled closer you noticed that not only was he singing, but you could also hear the guitar, the melody, the crowd…

Luke noticed your confusion and chuckled “I asked the opener to cover this song for us; for you. Wanted to surprise you on your first day”

You swore your smile couldn’t get bigger if you tried. Your eyes filled with tears as you chuckled “Well,” You said, sniffing as you knocked your forehead to his “I can’t wait to see what other surprises you got for the rest of the tour”

Luke’s eyes sparkled with the happiness of a little boy on Christmas day “You’re staying?”

You nodded “As long as you want me to”

“Forever, then” He smiled before connecting your lips with his once again. Letting go of all your worries, for all you could feel was love.

The concert was going great. You were convinced this was their best show up to date, but you were saying that since the tour began two months ago.

Luke stayed true to his promise of making everyday worth it. Although you knew that every day that you woke up next to him, whether it was in a bunk or a plane or a hotel bed, that it was worth more than enough. You were home, wherever you went, as long as you had him.

You smiled, laughed, and danced along with the songs on your side of the stage, looking proudly at your boyfriend who lived to do what he loved. But your favorite moment of the night was this; seconds before he started their next song, he would look for your eyes backstage and once he’s found you, he would smile at you and say.

“This is ‘Lover of mine’, everyone. Sing with your heart”

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