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huramuna · 4 months

Text

growing on you - oneshot.

modern aemond x (ex) girlfriend reader

content: smut (specifics under the cut), afab reader, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, descriptions of depression and its effect on the body, probably an unhealthy relationship, aemond being an idiot, probably ooc aemond, reader not described, no use of y/n, targtowers seek therapy: the story, fluff at the end bc hehe

work is 18+, minors do not interact or you shall be smited.

word count: 7.4k (oops)

a/n: i've had this one in the drafts for a while. tweaked to be a fun 'lil angsty end of year holiday fic. as is my motto: fuck it we ball. a/n 2: i pivoted from a third person pov fic to a second person pov fic 3/4 through writing this using the find and replace tool, so if there are grammar errors, i apologize! also my first time doing second person pov, weehee.

monsters - all time low ft. blackbear • why do i - set it off ft. hatsune miku

warnings: p in v, creampie, cockwarming, slightly tipsy sex

Everything in your life was enveloped by him. your clothes smelled like him, small strands of his hair were woven into every nook and cranny of your apartment together, his fitness regime protein powder and ketogenic supplements were littered in your kitchen cabinets.

You couldn’t get rid of him, not even if you tried. Aemond was all you'd ever known— you have known one another since the age of seven, and have been in a relationship since fourteen. You were both now twenty-six. Twelve years you’ve been together romantically (longer, even, but you were both too stubborn to admit it) and nineteen years you’ve been in each other's lives in some capacity or another.

You’ve been involved together longer than you’ve not known each other. You hardly knew who you were without Aemond— a thought that scared you deeply.

It’s been two weeks since he moved out, only temporarily he’d said. He needed space. He would still pay his share of the rent and you didn’t need to worry about that.

But what about everything else? What about him warming you at night? Comforting you when you had nightmares? What about his items in the fridge, surely you’d spoil if he didn’t use them soon. What about Vhagar? Their— no, his geriatric cat that he took with him to God knows where— she must be terrified, surely.

Was he giving Vhagar her medicine before bed? Of course he was— he was the more responsible one anyway.

You paced back and forth until the soles of your feet ached and then some. Knowing Aemond for so long, you had intimate knowledge on everything about him, you were woven into each other's DNA like vines on a trellis, growing and expanding until you swallowed all of the other plants whole.

That is what happened, wasn’t it? You grew too large, too comfortable and became stagnant. You weren't unaware of his rising workload at his firm, but he had always been a workaholic— throughout their teenage years, through college and grad school. It never slowed him down so you didn’t understand the change in behavior.

Aemond was closed off. He always was a bit emotionally stunted due to his upbringing or lack thereof from his father and everything that happened surrounding his eye, but he had a soft side for you, always for you. You could retrace every part of him perfectly from memory, always could make him laugh, could comfort him when he recused himself, and the rare times he did cry, you were there.

But the last few months there was a shift— a change in him. Where he had been hard to open before, like a rusty hinge just requiring some oil, he was now padlocked, ironclad and impenetrable. Attempts to talk were shrugged off, ignored or diverted.

“Please, just talk to me, Aemond,” you said one night as you sat on the couch. You were watching your collective favorite show and he wasn’t even commenting on it like he usually did, he was silent and deadpanned. “I don’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t talk about it.”

“There's nothing wrong, therefore, nothing to talk about. I’m just tired from work,” he responded gruffly. “Stop whining.”

His tone was clipped and harsh, sending a wave of hurt trickling through your body. you were overly emotional, where he was under emotional— usually, you balanced each other out and struck a good middle ground, but in times like these, during fights, things would get explosive.

The tears started right away, your little sniffling cries stifled by a hand over your mouth. You turned away, wrapping yourself in the blanket.

“Seriously?” he growled, “I didn’t even say anything and you’re fucking crying again.”

“I d-don’t appreciate your tone, Aemond— you’re being mean,” you sniffed, wiping away tears that were soon just replaced by new ones. “Please, don’t be mean to me.” you were always soft hearted, and it was one of the things Aemond loved about you— or he had loved at one point.

“I’m not being mean,” he pinched his brow, “you’re overreacting and I do not have the capacity to deal with your antics anymore.”

Of course, your mind hit the panic button. ‘Anymore’ meaning that he didn’t want to deal with you at all, ever. The tears increased and you recused yourself further into a ball.

“Fucking hell.” he cursed, getting up from the couch and stomping outside to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette. He was out there for about an hour— you had cried yourself to sleep.

It was many situations like that for weeks that finally just… broke him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said one day, slamming his keys down on the kitchen table, “I seriously cannot deal with your childish shit anymore— I’m working my ass off at the firm, actually bringing in money and I still have to come home and tend to you. you’re twenty-six, grow up and stop crying at every little thing. It’s fucking infuriating.”

“You know I can’t control that part of me!” you screamed back, your temper rising immediately to match his. The words flowing out of your mouth didn’t feel like yours, but some sort of defensive mechanism. “You can’t do this anymore? You’re not doing anything Aemond, except pushing me away. God, you haven’t even touched me in weeks.”

“Oh, so this is about sex?” he countered, getting closer to you, nostrils flaring. “You’re mad because I won’t fuck you? Are you that desperate?”

That one stung, to be sure. Aemond had been your first and only— you only ever knew him, only ever had him. “No, not just sex,” you murmured, “you haven’t even… just touched me normally. No hugs, no little caresses, nothing— it's as if I’m an aversion to you.”

He backed up from you, “Maybe we’re just too close,” he admitted, “We’ve been together too long. It's not fun anymore, it’s not new— it’s the same old, same old, going through the motions for release, not because I actually like it.”

“I don’t understand.” you said, your voice sounding disconnected from your body. The tips of your fingers felt numb, the numbness spreading through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted to escape.

“I need space. I need to think about this.”

“This?”

“Us. I need to think about us and if this is something I really want,” he paused, “You’re… too much and not enough right now.”

“Wh— Aemond, please,” you whispered, your voice broken, “What can I do? I’ll… I’ll change, I won’t cry or whine anymore— please.”

He stared at you, his prosthetic eye unmoving while his remaining one bored into you, “I will think about it.”

“What… does this mean?”

“We are taking a break, alright? I’ll have my essentials out and I’m going to stay with Aegon.”

“Please— don’t go. I need you.”

That was the end of that conversation. That was the last time you spoke, two weeks ago. You expected him to text you at some point, to check in on you, to maybe try to talk things out.

Nothing. There's been nothing. Radio silence.

You felt isolated— you had no family, as your parents were estranged from you. you couldn’t go to Aemond’s family, as close as you were to them all, it just simply wasn’t an option.

You didn’t have friends. All you knew was Aemond.

It was early in the evening and you were in a deep pit of self-loathing. You decided to text him.

You swallowed thickly— the green meant he either turned off his phone or blocked you. You hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

The next few weeks were a blur. You felt like you were barely living, merely going through the motions to stay alive— not that you really were.

You woke up, went to work, came home, scrounged up food and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Weeks become months of your monotony, and no word from Aemond. He still had half of his stuff left in the apartment, you felt like you could barely breathe. At every turn there was something to remind you of him.

You’d lived in this apartment together for four years, the evidence of your relationship etched into the very walls. It was like the space was closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath, barely keeping your head above water.

You had to move out— you had to get away.

You managed to find a place, a cheap studio above a coffee shop downtown. The landlord was an old lady who was sympathetic to your situation and agreed to let you take the space quickly.

There was still the matter of your and Aemond’s current apartment— or, rather, it was just Aemond’s now.

Saving yourself the embarrassment of seeing if you were still blocked, you called Aegon. He was a better messenger than none.

“Hey, Egg,” you said, sitting on the couch. you bounced your knee up and down, biting at the skin of your lip. You and Aegon were amicable, not necessarily as close as you and Aemond, but you grew up together. Aegon ran in different social circles than you and you were somewhat polar opposites so you never really stuck— you did have your phases of friendship, though– which pissed Aemond off to no end. “Um, I don’t know if this is the right way to go about things but, do you mind relaying a message to Aemond for me?”

“Yeah, ‘spose I could. What’s up?” Aegon replied, his tone nonchalant like usual.

“I’m moving out of the apartment into my own place, so I guess he can go back. I’ll have all my stuff out by tomorrow.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Aegon said, “He’s been driving me up the wall with his tidy, feng shui bullshit. He rearranged my whole place like five times and has taken up all the space in my cabinets with that nasty no-carb shit,” he paused for a moment, “I… didn’t mean that in a bad way to you, ‘course. I’m sorry it had to come to this. He’s a fucking idiot.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your first laugh in months. “Yeah– he… tends to do that. He left half of his stuff here, it feels like I’m living in the twilight zone. I just… gotta get away, you know?”

“Hey, I get that– you don’t have to explain yourself to me. He’s a dickhead and doesn’t understand how good he has it. If you want, I can bring my truck over tomorrow and help you move stuff.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Egg.”

“I want to– please.”

Your brow furrowed– Aegon usually wasn’t so persistent on anything unless it involved drinking or drugs. But, you hadn’t had real human contact in eons besides at work so… maybe it could be good.

“Okay, see you tomorrow. Thank you, really.”

–

It was rainy the next day– nasty and wet, droplets pouring down like tears. It felt somewhat familiar.

But, Aegon showed up like he promised, rolling up in his old, fading yellow pick-up truck. His hair was much shorter than you remembered and he looked actually well kept– Aemond must’ve been whipping him into shape.

He waved and ran through the rain, standing under the eave, “So– it’s raining.”

You snorted, “I think I can see that,” you teased with a tiny smile, “Not sure when it’ll let up.”

“I brought uh…” he paused for a moment to think, stretching out his arms in a square shape, “Y’know?”

“A tarp?”

“Yup– that,” he gave a lopsided grin, inviting himself in through the open door, “you aren’t going to kick me out if I don’t take off my shoes, right?”

You glanced down at his boots– they were a bit muddy and definitely wet. Aemond wouldn’t have let him step two feet through the threshold without taking them off. But– you weren't Aemond. “No, keep them on if you want. It’s not my problem if you track dirt through the place anyway.”

He nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket for a moment and shooting a quick message to someone. “Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s just… he’s my brother. It would be kind of… I dunno, crossing some sort of unsaid boundary if I visited his… girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. I guess,” you corrected softly– but you didn’t really know yourself what it was. He wouldn’t talk to you, “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to really reach out anyway, because of that… unsaid boundary thing.”

“We should’ve. you’re a part of our family with or without Aemond. Me, Helaena and Daeron have a whole group chat about it. Even mom asked where you’ve been,” he scratched the back of his head absentmindedly as he sent out another text, “Someone should’ve checked up sooner.”

“You’re acting like I’m some sort of neglected puppy, Aegon,” you turned to him, “... do I really look so terrible?”

Aegon glanced up at you, his mouth formed in a hard line. He cracked his knuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. You look half dead.”

You blinked. Hard. Moving towards a mirror in the hall, you looked at yourself. Dark circles under sunken eyes, your skin was a pale pallor and your hair needed a trim desperately, your split ends curled and fettered. You were gaunt, as well– having lost a bit of weight over the months. “Jesus,” you muttered. Glancing over at Aegon, he was texting again. “Sending an update to the group chat, I guess? ‘Good news, she’s still alive, barely’?”

He snorted, “Yeah– something like that,” finally, he locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “I made sure to text Aemond, too.”

Your mouth felt dry at the mention. “Why?”

“He asked.”

“Asked?”

“He asked me to… make sure you were okay.”

Goosebumps prickled at your skin, the ever familiar feeling of nausea and despair swirling in the pit of your stomach. Nibbling at your lip more, you turned away, feeling a bit too exposed. “And what’d you say?”

“I said you were alive but you are not okay.”

Your lips pursed into a line as you tasted a bit of copper in your mouth from chewing on your lip. “I guess that’s right,” you muttered, “Why would he ask?”

“Aemond is… complicated. you know that better than anyone. I don’t know what kind of bug he has up his ass these last few months but… even through all of this, he still cares.”

“Like hell he does,” you snapped, feeling the sting of tears, “If he did, he would’ve given us a chance to talk it out, to… to try, maybe even go to therapy, I don’t fucking know– he would’ve reached out– anyone should’ve reached out,” your hand went to your hair, right at your hairline at your scalp, picking at the hairs there– another self-destructive habit you’ve picked up in your months of isolation, “I’m so fucking alone, Aegon. He knows… you all know I have absolutely no one else. I’ve been going through this on my own. I have no friends, no family– no brother to go live with when I need space, no family group chat. I don’t have shit, Aegon. All I’ve ever known in my life is him and you and Helaena and Daeron and mom. Why… why does it feel like I was cast off the island without even�� a tribal council or something?” you sniffed, the tears coming in full force now.

Aegon was silent, coming up behind you. “I’m… sorry,” he murmured, putting his hands on your shoulders, as frail and skeletal as you were, “We should’ve been better. We… will be better.” he turned you around and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in his arms. “We thought you would’ve been… fine without him. He made it seem like that– that you were strong enough. I only figured it out yesterday when he was up my ass about texting him as soon as I saw you. He needed to know if you were feeding yourself, if you were keeping up with your medication, if you still had nightmares. A fuckin’... laundry list of questions– I told him to stick his questions up where the sun don’t shine and to see for himself,” he took a breath, “He settled on one question– if you were okay.”

“I think he got his fucking answer, then,” you whispered, “I am not okay. I haven’t been okay in months. I… I need help.”

“I know,” Aegon shifted you slightly to look at your face, “We’ll help you– I promise, you won’t be alone anymore. Look, I’ll even add you to the group chat, okay? I’ll rename it to ‘Aemond Sucks’, how does that sound?”

You cracked a tiny smile, sniffling. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

–

You ended up moving your belongings to your new place the same day, effectively ridding yourself of the constant shadow of Aemond’s memory.

Aegon even took you to Michael’s and HomeGoods to get stuff for your little studio, so you could really make it yours. It was a bit intimidating at first– you weren't used to being able to decorate things the way you wanted, as Aemond always opted to keep things simple and minimalistic.

You, admittedly, went all out. Your new studio looked like a Pinterest board titled ‘cottagecore’. You were incredibly happy with it all, practically jumping up and down at it.

“It looks so good! I love these little mushroom chairs you picked out, Egg,” you hummed, patting some plush felted stools in the shape of mushrooms, which you put near the window. “I bet Helaena would love it.”

“Let’s take some pictures for the group chat, Hel will literally be all over this. you two always love that cottagecore, fairycore, fantasy… shit.” he grinned, stooping down to take some very out of perspective pictures of the mushroom chairs, making them look fifty feet tall.

You settled into your new place quickly, having Helaena, Aegon and Daeron over quite often for drinks and movies. Your health steadily improved until you were mostly back to normal physically– there would be a lot of scars internally, however that would take longer to heal, if you ever would. You had developed a trust issue complex since Aemond’s unceremonious exit from your life and hadn’t gone on any dates, you didn’t know when or if you would ever be ready. They did you the courtesy of not mentioning Aemond, until Daeron said something odd.

It was about four months after you moved in, and almost a full year since you’d last seen Aemond. You were all a few mixed drinks in, Aegon had made them and you were heavy on the alcohol, light on the ‘mix’, and you were all kicked back on the couch, with Aegon laying on the mushroom chairs stacked next to each other, lazed back like a cat.

“Mom says she wants you over for Christmas dinner,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his drink, “She figured it’d be fine with Aemond going off with his new…” he blinked, catching himself.

Helaena nudged Daeron in the ribs as a warning, staring at their friend warily.

“... his new? His new what?” you asked, your voice so quiet that it must’ve been like a squeak.

“... new girlfriend.” he finished.

You were silent for a while before sighing. “I figured it would happen eventually. I can only hope that it… wasn’t too soon after we broke up– or whatever… happened.”

“We all told him it was fucked up that he just left and ghosted you, lovey. Even mom got on his ass about it, and he is her favorite child who usually can do no wrong.” Helaena put her drink down, wrapping her arm around you. “You should come to Christmas dinner, everyone would be super happy to see you! And Aemond won’t be there, so even more reason to come. Please.” she whimpered, using her best puppy-dog face.

You mulled it over in your mind for a few moments. You couldn’t think of anything more painful than being alone during the holidays, so you nodded.

–

It was snowing on Christmas day, the flurries coming down and melting against your skin as you waited for Aegon to pick you up. You were wearing a red checkered tapestry dress with a flannel jacket, a white fluffed scarf wrapped around your neck and lower face. As soon as you saw the familiar color of Aegon’s truck, you practically booked it into the passenger seat.

“Merry Christmas, you look fantastic,” Aegon mused, ever the charmer. “I’ve got the heater on full blast, I promise– but y’know my old boy’s puttering these days. We’ll need to get some speed for it to really warm up.”

“Mmm,” you murmured, your teeth chattering, “S’cold.”

He reached back and grabbed a well-used blanket, draping it over your legs. “Better?”

“... yeah– but,” you blinked, raising a brow. “What do you have this in the truck for?”

Aegon laughed as he began the drive to his family’s estate. “I think you know.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve fucked someone on this blanket, Aegon.”

“Someones– not just someone. But I keep it clean, no worries!”

The drive to the Targaryen estate was about an hour and a half from town, nestled deep into an expansive forest where there weren’t any other homes in at least five miles. It was a gorgeous, Victorian style mansion and according to Daeron, was most certainly haunted. You had been here numerous times, of course, but it’d been a while. As you pulled up in the driveway, you saw Alicent standing outside the door dressed in a gorgeous red and green festive dress, hair curled to perfection. Nothing less was expected of Alicent, though.

“Oh, my darling,” Alicent cooed, holding her arms out to caress who she thought of as her fifth child. “It’s been too long, I’ve missed you.”

Your heart warmed under Alicent’s caress, someone who had become more of a mother figure to you than your actual mother. You sniffed, pressing your forehead into Alicent’s shoulder. “Missed you too, mom.”

“Come on, you both can cry inside in the nice toasty house, yeah? I’m freezing my balls off here, mom.”

Alicent huffed, ushering both of you inside. “Don’t be vulgar, son– it’s Christmas.”

Helaena and Daeron were already there, as well as Otto, who gave you a stiff nod as a greeting, as was his usual means of communication.

You settled into the kitchen, Alicent pouring everyone apple cider and dishing out at least six types of holiday themed cookies. About an hour after arriving, there was a knock on the door.

“Oh, that must be Rhaenyra and Laena. Can you answer the door, darling? I need to take the roast out of the oven. I’m sure they would be happy to see you!”

“Mhm!” you mused through bites of cookies. You loved Rhaenyra and Laena, who were technically married with husbands, as was Alicent, but the three of them were in a secret, not so secret to anyone with eyes, polyamorous relationship. It always amused all of their kids when they tried to hide it.

You turned the doorknob, fully expecting to see Rhaenyra and Laena. It was not.

Aemond.

“Fuck.” you blurted out, eyes wide. It had been the better part of a year since you had last seen him. His hair was longer now, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck, his cheeks a bit more gaunt. He still wore his earrings and his rings– including the one you had given him almost a decade ago.

“Shit.” he responded, seemingly caught equally off guard by seeing you again. The pupil of his non-prosthetic eye dilated until the iris was almost consumed in black, before he flexed his hand and reeled himself in.

You couldn’t help but notice he was alone– no ‘new girlfriend’ as Daeron had put it. “Aemond,” you breathed, feeling like you were outside of your own body, your head filled with fluff and static. “Merry… Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” he responded gruffly, “Can I come in?”

“Oh– yeah, duh,” you chastised yourself, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” he grunted in his usual manner. That seemed to be a habit he hadn’t dropped.

You all but retreated to the kitchen, the expression on your face telling everything. Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena gathered around you.

“I didn’t invite him, I swear.” Aegon whispered.

“Well, neither did I!” Daeron professed.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t invite him. He left me on read three weeks ago when I sent him a picture of a bug on my windowsill.” Helaena sniffed.

A new voice chimed in. “I invited him,” Alicent spoke, breaking up the little posse, “I told him to come over or he would be grounded for three months.”

All four of you stared at Alicent, deadpanned.

“Mom– he’s… almost twenty-seven. you can’t ground him,” Daeron said, confused. “And moreover, why? Wasn’t he busy?”

“Well, first off, he is my son, so I wanted to see him for Christmas. Two, I believe we have someone here who has some unresolved issues with him.” Alicent responded, staring right at you pointedly.

“... I don’t know… I… I don’t know if I can talk to him. It’s been too long… I feel like I was just getting over all of this.”

“Well, do I have any say in this?” Aemond barged into the circle, his hands in his pockets.

You suddenly felt overwhelmed, the familiar bubbling of everything being too much rising in your stomach. You were teleported back to months ago when you were barely alive, trapped in your own mind. “I… I need… I need a minute.” you muttered, your voice sounding distorted as you made your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. Chest heaving, you were already crying, the waterworks starting somewhere between the hallway and the sink.

“You’re always fucking crying, I can’t take it anymore.” Aemond’s voice from months and months ago echoed in your head, causing the tears to flow more. You bit against your lip, tasting blood right away as you willed yourself to stop crying.

“S-stop… stop crying,” you whispered, fingers messing up your hair as you held fistfuls of it. You couldn’t catch your composure for the life of you, sliding against the bathroom wall onto the floor.

Vision blurring, you don’t know how long you were incoherent for. When you came back to yourself, Aemond was in front of you, crouched down.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, the door closed behind him, “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, still numb as he pried your fists from your head, out of your hair, smoothing it down.

“Look at me, can you do that? Nod if you can hear me.”

You nodded slowly, the feeling coming back to your extremities in a sprightly tickling sensation. You blinked tears from your eyes, the liquid smearing your vision.

Aemond rasped a thumb over your eyes, effectively clearing the obstruction from your vision. “Just breathe,” he continued to whisper. It was ever reminiscent of when he would calm you down after a nightmare, voice low and scratchy in a way that comforted you. He was so close now, closer than he’d been in forever. He still smelled the same, the scent triggering a deep aching within your chest. A scent that took you forever to get rid of, but you never truly could. “Can… we talk?” he asked then, his voice sounding more vulnerable than ever.

It felt like whiplash, visions of your previous fights plaguing you, where he had been so closed off, so far away, so distant that you couldn’t reach him– and now, he was here. In the present, in the flesh. In front of you, opened. Not opened completely, but you could see it, like the slit of a cracked door, the light bleeding through. It was there.

“... yeah.”

“I… I’m… I’m sorry. What I did was fucked up. It was fucked up and wrong and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You’re right about that,” you muttered, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “I didn’t deserve it.”

Aemond’s mouth twitched slightly before he sat down next to you, propping up his legs in a criss-cross. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, before closing it. His hands flexed and unflexed in quick succession– he was clearly thinking very carefully about his next words. “... I’ve… got issues. You know that better than anyone. I don’t know what was going through my head those months that we fought. I can hardly remember it now, it was like… I was in a fog, a haze– I was working myself half to death, I just wanted dad to notice, to fucking… appreciate me,” he put his hands on his head, “I was so… tied up in this illusion that if I made junior associate at the firm so young that he would congratulate me on my achievement and…” Aemond let out a sigh, “And… in the process… I pushed you away.”

You looked at him, feeling your gaze soften ever so slightly. You knew that his father was a sore spot for him and that trauma ran deep. “You didn’t just push me away, Aemond,” you sighed, reaching out a shaky hand to pry one of his from his face. “... if you would’ve just talked to me, I could’ve helped. You didn’t push… you… you shoved, you shoved and ran in the other direction.”

His one violet eye danced towards you. “I know. I’ve been kicking myself for it. When Aegon told me you weren’t doing well… I almost left work to see you.”

“... you did?”

“Yeah. Aegon basically told me not to– that… this was something you needed space for. Kind of like I did but… maybe in a more healthy way.”

“A text wouldn’t have hurt.”

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone– his wallpaper was still the same as it was, a picture of you, him and Vhagar very unhappy in an elf costume. He scrolled to his notes app, which was filled with messages addressed to you. “... I thought it might, after what Aegon had said. I was… ashamed of how I acted, how I handled the whole thing– how I left you alone without a word. He told me how you looked… dead. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Your eyes scanned the messages, picking out some words. The main ones that caught your gaze were ‘sorry’, ‘love’, ‘regret’. A huge breath left your lungs, feeling as if everything had been knocked out of you at once. You felt like you were being whipped back and forth in the wind, trying to grab onto anything. If you both weren’t so stubborn and just messaged one another– well, no. You did message him, one time. “I thought you blocked me.”

“... for five minutes, maybe.”

“God, we’re so fucking stupid, Aemond.”

“You aren’t– don’t say that. I’m literally a dumbass. All of my siblings told me so, even my own mother, and you know she never curses.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked onto your face as you jostled his shoulder. “Yeah… you are a dumbass. I am allowed to say it at least once. So, um,” you shuffled slightly, “Daeron kind of let it slip that you had a new girlfriend?”

Aemond pinched his brow. “Of course he said that. He is twenty-one years old and still doesn’t know how to use his goddamn ears. I said I was seeing a new therapist, not that I had a fucking girlfriend.”

“A therapist?”

“... things got really dark for me after I moved back into our… no, my… place. After you officially moved out. It felt lifeless, all of your things were gone, the fucking warmth sucked out of the place. It felt like it’d been sterilized of anything… good. I feel into something– I don’t know, a depression? I guess, that’s what Aegon called it. He suggested I see a therapist, citing me as ‘an emotionally stunted asshole who needs more therapy than him’.” he exaggerated the last bit with air quotes, rolling his eye.

“... he isn’t wrong. I mean, I love your family, but all of you are all kinds of fucked up. Maybe I am too, practically being a part of it.”

Aemond chuckled, giving a tight lipped smile. “We are fucked up. I realized that… I really do not give a shit what my dad thinks, because nothing will ever be good enough for him. He’s so far gone now that he probably doesn’t even know we exist. I’ve come to terms with that and honestly… it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad you could… work through some of that, Aemond.” you say sincerely, resting your cheek on his arm absentmindedly.

“... I want to talk about us.”

“... us. Okay.”

“I don’t expect you to want to jump right back into things. It would be unfair to think that– but… maybe we could try?”

Your chest feels a bit tight at his admission– he wanted to try. Every fiber in your being wanted to say yes and jump back into it like you’d never left. But you knew you couldn’t. There were still parts of you scarred by this whole experience, some parts that may never heal. It would take a long time and a lot of talks like this to even get some semblance of what the both of you had. “Well… before we were together, believe it or not, we were friends. Could we… try that for right now?”

His chest visibly deflated a bit, but he nodded. “Whatever you need, okay?”

–

The days following Christmas, leading up to New Year’s were… different. You and Aemond were back in contact, going out for coffee and lunch a few times.

On the day before New Year’s eve, you texted him.

Turns out, timing the movie to sync with 12 am on New Year’s day to Toby Maguire saying ‘Pizza time’ was difficult. Well, it wasn’t difficult for normal people– but you and Aemond were a bit tipsy, as Aegon had left some hard apple ciders in your fridge, to which you both indulged.

“Okay, okay,” Aemond stared at his phone, “5… 4… 2… wait, no, fuck, 3… 2… I think we fucked it up– just go, go!”

Quickly, you started the movie. “Maybe we should’ve practiced– can we start over?” you plopped on the couch, sinking into the sofa and taking a swig of the cider.

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. Can’t turn back time.” he mused softly, squatting down on one of the mushroom stools. “Pretty comfy.”

“Aegon picked those out, nifty, huh?”

“Nifty.” he parroted.

The movie continued on, but as it went on, there was an unspoken tension growing. Aemond hadn’t sat on the couch, but rather, the stools that were on the other side of the room. It felt like a chasm had formed, the strain almost palpable.

You chewed on your lip anxiously, contemplating whether or not to say anything. But, you had both been trying a new technique called ‘communication’ – a pretty cool and helpful thing that Aemond’s therapist had taught him. You remember laughing when he posed it that same way– but it was extremely important. You cleared your throat. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“... um. I wanted to try the mushroom seats, I guess.”

“You don’t want to sit next to me?” you countered, feeling especially brave.

“Is that… alright?”

“Um, duh. I invited you over for pizza and a movie so we could… sit together. Not for you to be half a mile away sitting on a mushroom.”

“As long as it’s alright with you.” he murmured, sitting up from the mushroom stool and making his way over to you, sliding onto the couch, still a few feet away from you.

You weren’t sure if it was the atmosphere, the pent up emotions, the small buzz of alcohol, or a destructive cocktail of all three, but you inched closer to him. Closer, closer… until your thighs were touching. You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he responded, his voice low and warm. It caused a balmy and comforting vibration to go through you, reverberating in your chest.

You became all too aware of your movements, your closeness to him, the skin of your thigh grazing against his jeans as you got as close as you could. Your lips parted slightly as he stared back down at you. “Can… we?”

“Can we, what?” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your loose hair, gently grasping it at the nape of your neck. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“... kiss. A little bit.”

“Just a little bit?”

“Mhm. A teeny bit.” you leaned up, Aemond meeting you halfway as your lips came together. The culmination of your year apart, all of the emotions, the sadness, the frustration and anger, the passion, love, tears– all of it came together at this moment as the two of you melded together perfectly, as if you’d never left. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment, followed by what could only be articulated as a moan.

It caught both of you off guard, Aemond pulling away for a moment, his lips still ghosting over yours. “Fucking hell,” he breathed against your skin, sending goosebumps tingling from your tailbone up to the nape of your neck, the hairs on your body standing on end. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you responded before latching onto him once more. It started off loving and slow, your lips moving against one another like two old lovers dancing together– then it began to heat up, your mouth parting to accommodate his tongue, gnashing against yours as their dance turned up a notch. Your hands roamed his body, everything you committed to memory for so many years still in its same spot. It felt good, it felt like home. “Please, Aemond– I… I need you. It’s been so long… too long…”

“Too long since I’ve had you, had this,” his hand reached down, cupping your mound still hidden beneath your panties. Somehow, you foresaw this moment before it happened and thankfully wore a light dress. “Let me in, love.”

You parted your legs, feeling the ever familiar crook of his fingers slide down the front of your panties, testing the waters. The pad of his thumb and middle finger locked on instantly to your clit, swirling the sensitive bud, sending electric shocks through your extremities. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, pressing your forehead against his. “Need you inside, now.” you all but growled as you peppered little kisses along the soft flesh of his neck.

He wouldn’t keep you waiting long, as it seemed he needed this as much as you did. He parted your panties to the side, propping you on top of him and sliding you down his length, earning a hissed gasp from both of you. It took all of his strength not to burst in you right then, as you enveloped him in your tight, wet heat. “You were made for me,” he breathed, biting down on your shoulder, leaving red marks. One of his favorite things to do was to mark you, leaving hickies in his wake as he worshiped every inch of exposed skin he could reach. “Melded so perfectly, just for me.” he grabbed the flesh of your bottom, squeezing gently at first, then landing a smack on it as he began to thrust up into you.

You nodded fervently, hiccuping little moans as you dug your face into his shoulder, biting him in turn. Your nails sunk into his skin, indenting against his spine as they always had, as they always were meant to. It felt much like a pianist resting their fingers on the ivories after a long break, the pads of your fingers sinking into the ridges of his very being. You were meant to be here, he was meant to be here. You could feel your end coming on all too soon, his cock filling every nook and cranny of you, bullying that spongy, delicate sweet spot just right. You began to clench, your tell-tale sign to him that you were close.

“I love you,” he whispered, panting slightly, using one hand to push your face back so you could meet his gaze. His wild, pupil-blown out gaze, cheeks reddened, mouth parted, brow furrowed. “I love you, I fucking love you. I missed you– fuck.”

“I l-love you,” you responded before he parted your lips with his thumb, “Love you so much– p-please, s’close.” you whined into his mouth.

“Let go, sweetheart, c’mon,” he grinned against your lips, nipping and biting at them. “Come for me.”

That was all you needed, the twine of your climax coming undone right in your core, snapping like a taut thread. Your usual habit was to hide your face in his shoulder when you came, whimpering and panting– but he didn’t let you this time. He held your face, staring at you intently as if you were a piece of fine art on display, and he was a connoisseur.

You clenched around him tightly, spurring him to his own end. His hard wrought fingers gripped your ass like it was a lifeline, grunting as he found his release deep within you, where it was always meant to be.

Coming down from your high, you slumped against his chest, mouth parted. Embarrassingly enough, a little drool wetted your lips. You were fully and thoroughly fucked out, not even registering that Tobey Maguire said “Pizza time!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Aemond murmured against your hair, nestling you tightly against him. He didn’t pull out– he preferred it this way, having you warm him through until you both fell asleep.

“... Happy New Year,” you whispered back.

–

Two and a half months later, it was Valentine's day. You and Aemond were officially dating again as of January 2nd, much to the surprise of no one.

You both took things as slow as you could, keeping separate apartments for the time being– but you’d given him a key to your place about two weeks in, and he was there all the time, taking much needed leave from work.

Unlocking the door to your apartment, you walked in, seeing Aemond lounging on the couch with a scruffy brown furball on him.

“Oh, Vhagar! You brought my baby,” you mused, dropping your items (with some grace, so as not to scare the geriatric cat), walking over, “Oh, I hope she remembers me.” you frowned, kneeling down and offering your hand to her.

“Of course she’ll remember, she yelled at me for a good three months at Aegon’s when we were without you.”

Vhagar sniffed your hand for a good minute before blinking her sleepy, lazy eyes at you, then promptly rubbing her scraggly cheek fur on your hand. You were elated, scratching her cheeks, hearing the tinkling of a little bell.

“A new collar?”

“Mhm, take a look.”

You swirled the collar around, looking for the name tag– only to find… a ring. An opal and moonstone ring. Your heart stopped in your chest as you stared at Aemond.

“I would get down on one knee– I was intending on you coming home and Vhagar running to you and then you finding it… but she’s on me, and I can’t get up. Cat rules,” he mused, unclipping the collar from her neck and slipping the ring onto your finger. “I know we’ve only been dating for… a month and a half, so stop me if it’s too soon.” he grinned, his toothy smile.

Vhagar gave a croaking meow, promptly jumping off of Aemond’s lap. As soon as the old cat was off, you threw yourself at Aemond, blubbering. “This… this…” you sniffed, unable to form words.

“Just so there isn’t any confusion… will you marry me?” he asked, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“Yes, yes– I will,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest and sobbing.

He let you sob on him, getting his shirt all snotty and wet, all while smiling.

After crying for at least ten minutes, you manage to take a picture, sending it to the group chat, with the caption: “I think we should add him to the chat now, guys.”

Ding.

“Is this group chat named ‘Aemond sucks’?”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond smut #modern aemond smut #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond angst #my writing

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jungshookz · 7 months

Text

just a small compilation of yoongi and y/n being platonic soul mates

➺ pairing; lveb!yoongi x lveb!y/n pre-namjoon (sorry namjoon u r not a part of this)

➺ genre; so much friendship fluff i love platonic love so much

➺ wordcount; 2.8k

➺ summary; yoongi and y/n love and care about each other very much but they’ll never actually say it outright bc real friends never do that! yoongi loves y/n a lot and y/n loves yoongi a lot and to be honest I AM JUST TOO SOFT FOR ALL OF THIS!!!!!!!!!

➺ what to expect; “and don’t lie to me again, please. i’m supposed to have your back and i can’t do my job if you’re hiding things from me.”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; how sweet it is (to be loved by you) — james taylor

»»————- 🧸 ————-««

yoongi and y/n get drunk and discuss very important things

“ah…” you suck in an air of breath through your teeth, patting your chest a few times as the whiskey trickles down your throat

you’re not much of a drinker but yoongi insisted that this was the best whiskey he’d ever had and the only reason why you agreed was because he said if you mixed it with apple juice, it’d just taste like apple juice with a spicier kick

“you are such a baby.” yoongi snorts, downing the rest of his glass before setting it down on the table, “you don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.”

“i do…” you shake your head, leaning back against the couch, “i don’t, but i also do.”

it’s not often that the two of you spend a sunday evening getting drunk in your apartment but you’ve had a rough week with the business (you’ve had to deal with many, many impatient and annoying customers this week) and yoongi just hasn’t drank in a long time and he recently got paid so why not spend it on some good quality alcohol??

“we should play a game or something.” yoongi turns and leans back against the arm of the couch before kicking his legs up onto your lap, “we should do something while waiting for the pizza, otherwise we’re both going to fall asleep.”

“a game?”

“a game.” yoongi nods, reaching over to crack open the fresh bottle of jameson whiskey (surprisingly smooth, actually. and you do taste the alcohol but you quite like it with the apple juice), “what do drunk people talk about?”

“they don’t talk. they call their exes.” you joke, yoongi rolling his eyes at your teasing smile

“for your information, i only did it one time. and she didn’t even pick up, so i just left a voicemail. and i don’t even remember what i said in the voicemail.”

“one time too many.” your eyes widen a little at the reminder of that chaotic night that involved you chasing yoongi around the street trying to get him to give you his phone but his legs are longer and he’s very speedy when he’s drunk so it took you a while until you finally managed to pry his phone from his clammy hands

love really does make people crazy

“what’s your biggest fear?” you ask, turning to look at him

“oh, we’re going to be that type of drunk tonight, are we?” yoongi snorts, reaching up to scratch the side of his nose before pursing his lips in thought and looking up at the ceiling, “probably that i’ll never be good enough in all aspects of my life, but to be honest, mostly when it comes to any romantic stuff. i’m terrified that i’ll try my best with someone and that my best still won’t be good enough for them, and i know i shouldn’t be so dependent on what someone else thinks about me, but if i was dating someone and i felt like i wasn’t good enough for them and then they told me to my face that i wasn’t good enough for them, that would probably send me into the biggest depression spiral i’ve ever had in my entire life. what about you?”

yoongi looks back down at you to see that you’re staring at him with wide eyes before you reach over to pour some more whiskey into his glass, picking it up and holding it out for him to take

“…flying cockroaches.”

“that’s valid.”

y/n keeps (choosing) to make the same mistake and yoongi’s kinda over it

“you know, i was just doing some thinking when i was getting the ice cream and i don’t understand,” yoongi shuts the front door behind him before kicking his sneakers off, leaning against the wall with one hand, “didn’t you guys end things, like, a year ago?”

“he reached out in february n we’ve been seeing each other since then…” you sniffle, wiping at your red eyes as you look at him from your curled-up position on the couch, “…didn’t tell you because- i know how you feel about him-“

“he’s a fucking dickhead, that’s how i feel about him. he’s a walking red flag in a very concerning way- like, i have some red flags but they’re the ones that make me seem hot and mysterious, not the ones that make people wonder if i’m a narcissistic sociopath- also, are you telling me you’ve been secretly dating this man for the last-“ yoongi pauses, counting the months on his hands before his eyes widen slightly, “holy shit, you’ve been hiding this from me for the last eight months?”

you press your lips together as you avert your gaze sheepishly, “…yeah. i’m sorry…”

“well, what happened this time? why’d you guys break things off?” yoongi plops himself down on the couch next to you, pulling the two pints of ice cream and the cheap wooden spoons out of the thin plastic bag

“he- he was kind of seeing other people at the same time because we never made things exclusive-“

“well, were you seeing anyone else?”

“no- and… he told me that i wasn’t allowed to see anyone else but he was- so- so basically he started dating-“

“ah, ah-“ yoongi holds the wooden spoon up to shut you up before letting out a laugh, “i’m gonna be so real with you, i don’t feel any sympathy for you at all.”

“i’m not asking for sympathy-“ your voice wavers slightly (you were definitely asking for sympathy and also you fully expected yoongi to come in here and just validate all of your feelings but to be fair you’d probably also feel some type of way if you found out he’d been lying to you for the past eight months of your friendship), “i’m just… sad…”

“gee whiz, you’re sad because you made a choice to reunite with a known horrible human being!” yoongi exclaims sarcastically, peeling the lid off of the first pint while he shakes his head, “you have to take some accountability here, y/n. it’s not that he forced you to be in this weird relationship with him- and you know, i get it, when you’re reunited with an ex, old feelings come up and yada yada, but you already know the type of person shownu is, so i don’t really know why you’re surprised that being involved with him ended up with you needing emergency pints of ice cream… again. i feel like we’ve had this conversation so many times. it’s getting boring!”

“i don’t know, yoongi, i thought things would be different…” you mutter, picking at your cuticles, “i thought he’d changed-“

“people rarely change. small habits, maybe, but people rarely change. and you have to take responsibility for the way that you let people treat you, too, because at some point it’s not just because oh yoongi, i was dumb, oh yoongi, i made a mistake, oh yoongi, he seemed so genuine when he was apologising to me — at some point you have to accept the fact that oh, yoongi, maybe i’m the one who has the power to not be crying over a piss-poor human being.” yoongi snaps, turning to look at you with a frown

he only feels 1% bad when he sees chubby teardrops forming at your waterline and he lets out a quiet sigh before handing you your pint and a spoon, “you know i’m just saying all this shit because we’re friends and i care about you.”

“i know.” you sniffle, taking the pint from him delicately and scraping a little bit of ice cream off the top, “‘m sorry.”

a moment of silence passes as yoongi gets comfortable with his own pint, his lips pursing as he looks back over at you in all your sad glory

“i’m sorry things didn’t work out with him. i know you really liked him. but he’s genuinely a horrible person and in the long run, you’re going to be grateful you didn’t end up with someone like that.” he pokes you with his foot to get you to look up at him, “and don’t lie to me again, please. i’m supposed to have your back and i can’t do my job if you’re hiding things from me.”

yoongi’s really passionate about getting strangers to try y/n’s strawberry cinnamon buns

“what the hell? these are so good. you should sell these. why don’t you sell these??“ yoongi sucks strawberry glaze off his thumb before his eyes widen, “you could really turn this into a business, you know.”

“i don’t know…” your cheeks flush a little as you wipe flour off the counter, giving him a little shrug, “don’t know if i’ll be successful…”

you had some spare time today so you decided to whip up a batch of strawberry cinnamon buns (they’re just like regular cinnamon buns except you also add a homemade strawberry compote in the layers, no biggie) and yoongi came over just as they came out of the oven, so you offered him one and obviously he said yes because he’d be crazy to turn down a little treat

“sure you’ll be successful. you’re really good at baking, and if you start now, you’ll at least have some sort of income after we graduate.” yoongi frowns, “you can’t talk about yourself like that. you have to, like, manifest your success and speak it into existence and all that shit-“

“maybe one day…” you purse your lips before offering him another shrug, “i dunno if people’ll like em.”

“STRAWBERRY CINNAMON BUNS! HOMEMADE STRAWBERRY CINNAMON BUNS-“ that one day comes a lot sooner (as in, this is happening an hour after yoongi suggested you start your own business) and you can’t help but stand off to the side shyly as yoongi continues pushing for people to try your buns

“come on, give this a try and tell me they’re not the most incredible thing you’ve ever put in your mouth-“ yoongi hands someone a free sample in a paper cupcake liner and the stranger looks at it before holding it back for him to take

“this looks great, but i’m allergic to strawberries-“

“well, that’s what your epipen is for, pal-“ yoongi slaps him on the shoulder before pushing him aside and turning his attention to other people, “strawberry cinnamon buns! free samples of homemade strawberry cinnamon buns! get over here and put my friend’s buns in your mouth- oh.” he immediately stops, turning around to look at you, “so sorry, did not mean to sound like i was pimping you off-“

you shake your head with a giggle, watching fondly as yoongi spins back around and practically chases someone down to get them to take a free sample from him

yoongi gets stood up and he’s never seen y/n so upset before

“who did this to you.”

yoongi looks up from where he’s sitting on the cobblestone steps to see you standing there, your eyebrows furrowed tightly and your lips set in a tight frown

if he squints, he’d probably be able to see fumes coming off the top of your head by how upset you seem

“took you long enough.” he jokes, getting up from his butt and picking up the bouquet of wilted flowers next to him

he messaged you twenty minutes ago about the situation and you literally got here in warp speed

“who did this to you?” you ask again, and yoongi shakes his head

this night has been humiliating enough and he really does not want to go into further details

“don’t worry about it.” he clears his throat, holding up the bouquet for you to take, “for you, madamoiselle.”

“you didn’t tell me you were going on a date.” you take the bouquet, bringing it up to your nose for a little sniff before smiling lightly (you love tulips), “love tulips.”

“i know. and it was a second date, technically.”

“second date??” you ask incredulously, shocked that yoongi hid not one but two important pieces of information from you, “when was the first date??”

“i didn’t wanna talk about it… i… didn’t wanna get my hopes up in case things didn’t work out and obviously things haven’t worked out.” yoongi shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks alongside you, “whatever, it’s stupid. i hate dating apps.”

you twist your lips in thought as comfortable silence washes over the two of you

you know that he’ll probably want to talk about this later, but right now it seems like a bit of a sore spot so maybe you’ll bring in up in a week or so

or you’ll just wait for him to bring it up to you

“you hungry?” you loop your arm with his as the two of you walk slowly, and you perk up a little at the sight of a diner two blocks down (they have really good cheesecake there)

“well, i was supposed to have dinner an hour and forty-five minutes ago, so i guess i’m a little hungry.” yoongi snorts, kicking a pebble off the sidewalk before letting out a huff, “i don’t know. i could eat.”

“…tuna melt time?” you squeeze his arm and he lets out a loud groan almost immediately

“oh my god, you are so gross, you know that??” yoongi shoves you off his arm playfully, “who in their right mind likes warm tuna and cheese- you’re basically eating, like, cat vomit-“ yoongi makes a face and you can’t help but laugh, feeling a little better now that you’ve seen him smile a little

“tuna melt, tuna melt…” you sing softly, yoongi letting out another groan before shuddering

“this could actually be a dealbreaker in our friendship, i’m telling you- only sick freaks like tuna melts-“

“guess i’m the sickest freak around, baby-“

y/n picked a gross drink from starbucks and refuses to admit she doesn’t like it

“i still don’t know why you decided to try that.” yoongi shakes his head, holding his wallet out for you to take so you can put it in your purse for him, “what is it again?”

“apple… cinnamon cold brew something?” you shrug, raising the cup for a quick glance before shrugging, “trying something new!”

“we both know what happens whenever you try something new.” yoongi grumbles, taking a sip of his own iced americano, “you try it, you don’t like it, you refuse to admit you don’t like it, and somehow i’m the one who ends up having to finish whatever it is you picked for yourself because you decided you wanted to be spontaneous.”

“nuh-uh.” you frown, yoongi holding the door open for you as he rolls his eyes

you can be such a baby when it comes to arguments like this — it’s like you never want to admit he’s right even though you know he’s right

“nuh-uh-“ he mocks, barely avoiding your whack as the two of you walk side by side, “the pineapple-walnut scone from that gluten-free bakery, that weird alfredo-truffle-pesto pasta dish you ordered when we went to get italian on valentine’s day, that godawful cauliflower crust pizza you got for brunch one time-“

“but i like this drink!” you take a hearty sip before swallowing, your lips puckering for a second as your eye twitches and you immediately stop walking to look at the drink

…perhaps the barista was having an off day but there’s something a lil funky going on in your mouth right now

“oh my god, i fucking knew it-“ yoongi groans, his shoulder slumping as he looks at you with a raised brow, “who in their right mind would order an apple cinnamon cold brew something-“

“it’s not bad!” you insist, bringing it up to your lips for another sip, your other eye twitching now as you swallow thickly

oh dear god

is it supposed to be chunky?? are drinks normally chunky like this???

“just give it to me.” yoongi gives you a deadpan expression as he holds his iced americano for you to take, “take mine.”

“no, no-“

“y/n y/l/n, give me your godawful drink right now-“

“are you sure?”

“are you sure?” yoongi mocks again, tsking at you when you take his drink from him and he takes your drink from you, “i knew this was gonna happen, and i still let you order your own drink… the next time we’re at starbucks, i’m ordering for you-“

��️ ask y/n for her strawberry cinnamon bun recipe (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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obsessedelusional · 1 year

Text

religious trauma but make it gay

masterlist

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x fem!Reader

summary ✦ Bella was your childhood best friend. The one person you felt like you could tell anything. So you do exactly that, coming out to them when you two were still young. Only for Bella to push you away. What happens when they show up at your work several years later?

word count ✦ 3,500ish

authors note ✦ I’m so in love with Bella Ramsey and there’s barely nothing out there. So I took it upon myself lmao hope y’all enjoy!!! Also I’ve never written for a real person so I hope this ok request for Bella open bc I’m a simp rn

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

several years ago

“I think I’m gay.” You admit to your childhood best friend, Bella. The two of you sat in the school yard, parked under a tree.

“What?” She asks, forcing you to repeat the statement you’ve been trying to find the courage to say for months now.

“I think I like girls.” You further explain.

“That’s a sin. You can’t like girls.” Bella spits, bringing tears to you eyes.

“Bella-“ You say their name, letting the tears fall as they interrupt you.

“It’s a sickness, you can get help. My pastor will know exactly what to do.” She says, entirely seriously. Taking your hands in theirs, you quickly push them way. You can’t believe what your hearing.

“I don’t need help. I needed my friend to be there for me.” You stand up from the floor, overwhelmed by the entire situation.

“I don’t think-“ Bella hesitates.

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.” Her words tremble like their unsure as they come out.

“I knew you were religious but this takes it to a whole another level.” You croak before leaving Bella sat alone under that tree. Part of you thought they’d come back, apologize to you after some time passed. That never happened, ten years of friendship over because of you opened your mouth about your sexuality. At the time you regretted saying anything at all, wishing you had just kept it bottled up inside.

The worst part was when their mother called a couple weeks after the incident basically outing you, offering your mother her pastors number. To your surprise your mom politely declined, she accepted you fully for who you were. It was a bit awkward at first at home but eventually everything went back to normal. That summer you attended your first Pride Parade and felt so seen that the coming school year you came out publicly. Considering the two of you were in the same grade you still saw them around, although never speaking to them again.

After a few years Bella landed her first huge roll in Game of Thrones, leaving your guys hometown behind. You didn’t have to see her face around anymore. Part of you happy for them but sad you couldn’t be in their life to support them. Only to remember they never supported you when you need them most.

present day

It had been several years since you came out, now living your most authentic life. Since then you had a few relationships, nothing too serious. Normally only lasting a few months before breaking up. You had graduated high school, started college shortly after. You got into the college you’d been dreaming of and the major you always imagined yourself as. Your college was a few hours from your home town so you occasionally saw people from there at your part time job. A couple days a week you were a barista at this cute little coffee shop right on the corner of the busiest street.

“What can I get you?” You ask blindly, going through the motions of a transaction.

“Y/N?” The voice on the other side of the counter asks, causing you to look up from the cash register. Looking up you’re greeted by the girl who you hadn’t seen since that depressing day. The day you lost your best friend.

“I can’t believe you work here.” They say, their voice warm.

“Yup.” You say flatly.

“What can I get you?” You ask, trying to quicken this interaction.

“The film I’m working on is filming just down the street for the next few weeks. I’ve been trying to find you for years, you have like no social media.” They admit, completely disregarding your attempt to not make small talk.

“Can I get you something?” You asks again, uninterested in what they have to say.

“Damn I deserve that.” They sigh before muttering off their order and paying. He walks over to the pick up area and you start making their drink. Every time you look up from your work they’re already staring. You can’t help but look too, they’ve changed so much. You’ve seen things about them online and people from your home town loved to talk about the girl who made it big. Always asking, “Didn’t you used to be friends with Bella?”

Once you’re done with their drink, you walk over to where they stand and set their drink down on the counter.

“Y/N wait.” They plead before you can turn your back to them. Against your better judgment you stop, briefly making eye contact. Saying nothing but signaling with your eyes to speak.

“I’m so sorry. I know what I did was shitty. I haven’t stopped thinking about that day since. While I’m still in town I’d like to apologize better like take you out or something so we can talk.” They explain, almost rambling their words.

“I understand if you don’t want to but here’s my phone number. Consider giving me a call or a text or anything, please.” They smile reassuringly pleading with you one last time, passing you a small folded up paper. They leave the coffee shop, drink in hand. You catch your self watching them leave, mind wandering on what you’re gonna do with their number.

Part of you wants to throw it away. An even bigger part of you wants to find out what would happened if you contacted Bella. Maybe their viewpoints have changed, it’s the least you can hope for. Against your better judgement you slip the small piece of paper in your phone case, deciding you’ll worry about it later. The rest of the work day is slow, painfully slow. Nothing to keep your mind distracted from thinking about Bella.

—

“I should be good, if you’re ready to take off.” Your coworker speaks, disrupting your spiraling thoughts.

“Okay,” is all you can say before rushing to clock out. Grabbing your belongings and thanking your coworker before leaving.

Once home you reach for the folded up piece of paper that’s been living in your phone case all day. You hesitate for a few moments before finally mustering up the courage to open it. All that is reads is their phone number, nothing else. You’re not sure how long your sat there staring at the piece of paper but eventually you decide to just shoot them a text.

you: hey it’s y/n

You don’t hear anything back that night. You stay up later then normal stressing about the entire situation. Imagining that it was all some elaborate set up, Bella’s sat up laughing at how stupid you could be to think that they’d want apologize.

The next morning arrives, your alarm goes off bright and early. You have a long day of classes ahead of you. You rush getting ready, picking out the most basic clothes you own. Not it the mood to try, exhausted from the lack of sleep from Bella’s sudden return to your life.

“Girl you good?” A girl you had always been friendly towards in your nine am class asks. You can never remember her name.

“It’s it that obvious?” You let out an exasperated laugh.

“No offense. Your just usually all dolled up and suddenly you look not dolled up. You just look tired.” She laughs.

“Dolled up?” You ask, curiously. For the first time truly noticing the girl who’s always sat near you.

“Yeah you always got them eye lashes and stuff. Not that you don’t look cute today, you always look cute.” They explain poorly. You can’t help but laugh at their way to describe makeup.

“Too tired this morning. Thanks I think?” You smile, she smiles back before the professor walks in and starts class. For a brief moment you forget about the lack of response from Bella. Too busy thinking about the attractive person who low-key just flirted with you. Only for that to be quickly forgotten when your phone vibrates from your pocket. You slyly pull it out laying it flat on your desk, where the professor can’t see. It is Bella, you catch yourself smiling at her name popping up. Stopping yourself immediately from having that type of reaction.

Bella: hey sorry I didn’t respond sooner super late work day only to wake up even earlier to work some more but I have tomorrow off so can we please get together

You decide you’ll respond but make them wait, not nearly as long as you waited. But you’ll stick it to them, make them wait till your out of class. The rest of the period is spent mentally drafting your response. Are you really after all these years ready to meet up with Bella? Maybe.

When class is over you shove all your belongings your bag, rushing to leave so you can send your text. Only to be stopped by that girl from before.

“What class do you have next?” She asks.

“Uhm,” You have to think about it for a moment too distracted by the phone burning a hole in your pocket.

“English in Butcher Hall at one.” You blurt out once you can remember. Normally you either go back to your dorm, grab lunch or study in the library. Today you had planned on going back to your dorm, knowing you weren’t going to be capable of studying.

“Dope. You wanna get lunch or something? I don’t have class till 1 too.” They explain, a smile on their face.

“Oof,” You say aloud, regrettably. The laugh almost as if they’re confused.

“I totally would but I got stuff I have to do before my next class.” You explain, sort of lying. Unsure why your lying just so you can hurriedly respond to Bella.

“That’s fine. Another time maybe?” She asks.

“Yeah.” You smile before walking off, back to your dorm room. They wave goodbye as you leave. When your out of their reach, you pull your phone out and type your message.

you: tomorrow works, I have one class in the morning. I’ll be done around noon. After that is ok

bella: sounds good wanna grab lunch at one?

you: yeah

Bella responds in a short time, sending you the address of a restaurant you never heard of before. You decide not respond anymore, deciding that any talking that needs to be done can be done tomorrow.

—

You had woken up early enough to actually get ready today. Or “dolled up” as the girl from your class would say. Thankfully you didn’t have that class with her today, knowing you couldn’t handle that along with all that is already going on.

After class, you walk quickly back to you dorm. Using the hour you have to dress cuter, fixing up your makeup. Mentally preparing yourself for the conversation that is about to be had. You pull up the address Bella gave you and it’s a cute little Italian restaurant. That’s always been your favorite, for long as you can remember. You wonder for a moment if they remember or if it’s just a coincidence. The drive is short, too nervous to listen to music. Letting your inner dialogue fill the silence. You park near the front door, looking down at the clock on your dash and you have a few minutes to spear. You phone goes off and it’s Bella.

bella: I’m here just let the hostess know your here to see me

All of a sudden it all starts to feel real. Your going to be having lunch with Bella after several years of no contact after coming out to them. It’s not too late to back out, you think for a moment. You have too though, you’ve made it this far. It’s a quick walk from your car to the door, you let yourself in. Greeted by a girl at the hostess desk.

“Hello!” The hostess beams.

“Hi I’m here to meet with Bella.” You explain.

“Right this way,” She smiles grabbing a menu and leading you towards the back of the restaurant where it’s more secluded. Pass the view of the back of the hostess head you can see Bella sat, scrolling through their phone. The sight of them biting their nails, puts some of your worries at ease. Knowing that they’re just as nervous makes this a little easier. Bella looks up from their phone, smiling brightly at you when they notice you.

“You still like Italian?” They ask.

“Yeah I do.” You smile because they remembered.

“I’m so glad you actually showed up.” Bella says examining you.

“After what I did I always thought you’d want nothing to do with me forever.” They explain, you quickly notice them fiddling with the table cloth.

“I’m so sorry.” They say now with a bit of sadness to their voice. Your not entirely ready to forget what happened but the sight of them is tempting you to forgive them on the spot.

“You know you haven’t grown much?” You tease as an attempt to lighten the situation.

“What?” They ask confused.

“You’ve always been so short and that hasn’t changed. You’ve cut all your hair off, I like it.” You let out an awkward laugh.

“We’ll when everyone is old and looks old I’ll still look young.” They laugh, you can tell they’re finally beginning to relax.

“Plus in my line of work it’s a plus. I can continue to play younger roles as I age.” They explain. Which leads to you asking them what they’re in town filming for. The conversation begins to flow smoothly, smiles never leaving either of your faces. You two order and wait for the food to come over. When the conversation eventually lulls, Bella’s face is screaming like she has something she wants to say but can’t get it out. You eyes dart to their fingers that anxiously fidget with the utensils in from of them.

“It’s okay,” You reassure them resting your hand on theirs. You feel them relax under your touch.

“I’m gay.” They spit out.

“Really?” You ask.

“Which is why I reacted the way I did when you told me. I’ve always had feelings for… women. I was raised to believe that it was wrong. I struggled internalized homophobia for years only recently coming to terms with my sexuality. I was so scared at the time.” Bella admits, your hand still rests on theirs. They look to you like they’re waiting for a response.

“I forgive you.” You respond.

“I would of done this sooner. Your just not the easiest person to find.”

“It’s fine Bella. Just promise we’ll stay in touch now, okay?”

“I promise.”

—

They did exactly that. For the rest of their time in town, when ever your schedules aligned you two we’re together. Or they would find any excuse to leave set and stop by for a quick visit when you were working. Getting to know each other all over again, you couldn’t help it forming a crush on them. They made you so happy, the most comfortable you felt around someone in forever. You finally got your Bella back.

Only for her to have to leave you after a few weeks. Her film was moving locations so they’d be several hours away. It was only for a month but you were so torn up about it. They had promised as soon as that month was over, they’d be back in your home town and visiting you as much as possible.

It was a bit awkward when that girl form your class kept making the moves on you. One day your finally let them down gently. It was entirely because of the slight chance with Bella you thought you might have.

You finally got your Bella back only to have separate again. This time though, you were friends. That month was spent on face time calls when ever you got the chance. Always waking up to good morning texts and not going to sleep until you two had a chance to talk on the phone. You can’t remember the last time you had smiled so much. Always checking you phone, biggest smile on your lips. All because of Bella.

—

one month later

“I missed you.” Bella says, wrapping you in a hug. Their head resting in your shoulder, breathing in your aroma.

“I missed you, more.” You tease. You feel them laugh in your embrace before pulling away.

“I may have got me an air bnb for a week or so.”

“Really? I thought this was just a weekend kind of thing.” You say, biting your lip trying your best not to smile too hard. Originally you couldn’t help but be upset when Bella flight was delayed, their 10 am arrival turned into 5 pm. You had thought half your time with them was wasted.

“We’ll you were wrong.”

“I’m glad.” You laugh, following them to your car. Helping them load their luggage. Bella pulls up her maps app and types in the location of the air bnb. You drive, listening to Bella talk about everything that had happened in the last month of filming.

“You’re so cute when you talk about your job.” You respond, letting the word cute slip out.

“What do you mean?” They ask.

“You’re cute. Do I really need to elaborate?”

“I guess not.” They smile. The rest of the car ride is filled with a comfortable silence.

Eventually you two arrive at their temporary home for the week or so. You help Bella unload and follow them to the door, watching as they unlock the lock box that has the house key inside. They open the door for you, you walk inside.

“Wow this place is so nice.” You awe at the beauty of the living room.

“You think this is nice? Come look at the back yard.” Bella leads you to the back yard, it’s so beautiful. Plants everywhere and jacuzzi, wishing suddenly you had brought a swim suit.

“Wow.” You say aloud, noticing the large hanging chair. Big enough for multiple people. It hangs over the deck, with the perfect view of the nature behind the house. Without hesitation you climb into the hanging chair, Bella watches you amused. You let out a screech when it move from your weight. Eventually you fall on your back, looking up at the stars. Bella continues to watch you, enjoying the view of you enjoying yourself.

“Are you not going to join me?” You speak up.

“I guess so.” You laugh at their attempt to climb up, their attempt causing it to swing and sends Bella landing closer to you than they had originally intended. When you didn’t pull away, they didn’t either. The two of you, sit in silence staring up at the starry sky. Eventually Bella is the one to break the silence.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.” You respond, sitting up on your elbows so you can see them better. They begin speaking, not daring to look at you.

“I said I knew Ialways had feelings for women. Like I always knew I liked women. The truth is I had feelings for you. When you said you were gay, I freaked out because my feelings for you could of become a reality. I think that’s the real reason I pushed you away. I knew I couldn’t be in your life as just a friend but also that I wasn’t ready to be out. I don’t if that makes sense and know I’m rambling. I’m sorry.” Bella finally gains the courage to look at you after their words.

“It’s okay.” You smile, biting you lip. Thinking this is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“So you’re not mad at me?” Bella asks.

“Not at all. The real question though, are those feelings still there?” You ask, curiously. Your tone a little flirty.

“They’ve always been there. Bumping into you only reignited them. Then you actually said yes to meeting up with me, I couldn’t believe it. I still don’t believe it.”

“Believe it.” You laugh before closing the space between you two. Letting your lips kiss Bella’s for the first time. It takes them a moment to fully register what’s happening, shortly kissing you back. Their hands reach for your head pulling you in closer. You’re the one to pull away, needing to catch your breath. That only lasts a few moments before they’re the one initiate the second kiss. The two of you spend a few hours on the hanging chair. Kissing, laughing and talking about anything and everything. Only going inside because it began to rain. That night you guys stayed up so late, some time around 3am Bella asked you to be their girlfriend. You said yes.

#bella ramsey #bella ramsey x you #bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey oneshot #bella ramsey pov #bella ramsey fluff #bella Ramsey angst #bella ramsey imagine #tlou #the last of us #ellie williams

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soullessjack · 7 months

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it genuinely kills me very slowly to think that some people can only ever think of jack as the destiel kid and not like an actual person with a myriad of maladjustments or silly funny personality quirks. like he has a whole special red and white fleece lined Christmas jacket and is canonically acknowledged as looking like a stupid hot white boy without any thoughts behind his eyes. He killed a whole fucking archangel and then decided that he really wanted to try making some friends like a week later. they wanna be normal and nice so bad and pretend to be some normal small town boy next door all the time but they were literally so angry once that it took three gunshots fired in the back to make him calm and reasonable.

he stress eats and stays in their room for weeks on end when they’re depressed or upset. they line their shoes up and fold their shirts and wear bright yellow vans and red hi-tops. he’s narratively paralleled to Anakin but his favorite character is Ahsoka. he pretended to be a coke addict and pretended to be a pretty new boy next door again to flirt with a hopelessly romantic girl. women want him and he’s absolutely clueless about it. women and men and probably fish fear him too. he dresses like a combination between an elderly man and a 70’s sitcom hippie. he was literally called Bieber and Suite Life. they like stripe patterns and Hawaiian pizza and movies and computers.

they’re literally an autistic person who just explodes shit when they get overstimulated. They watch riverdale and constantly sweep their hair back in a specific stylistic choice bc he likes looking like that. he fucking decapitated a whole Gorgon and then stole the guy’s snake as a trophy. he says shut up when he’s mad and calls things stupid and says they suck. he’s a teenage girl. he’s. A Teenage boy. He’s non-binary. He sat on the throne of god in grass stained jeans and clunky grandpa sneakers and left it all behind without even blinking as soon as his shitty bunker home called out to him. He sticks his tongue out when he’s focused on something and his left eye pulls up into a squint when he smiles reallt wide and his smile is crooked and he has sleepy eyelids . They decided to defy death herself just to rescue someone he mildly remembered caring about once and then blackmailed a reaper into helping with said rescue plan.

He got turned into the tiniest ugliest dog ever and got a thermometer shoved up his ass in the same episode where he’s narratively symbolized by the ouroboros symbol and makes the deliberate choice of destroying his soul just to selfishly keep his family bc he legitimately cannot handle thinking about losing them without going insane. his nicknames are sweetheart and darling boy and pal and buddy and Jackie Boy and slugger and he apologized to a girl for upsetting her like two episodes after ripping a man’s heart out and eating it raw. He literally actively wants to be a silly little guy that everyone likes but he’s so insane and unwell at the same time. he’s the best character ever and I need the entire world to understand this and to see him as more than just the destiel baby or I will also explode. .

#okay gn I have a teeth cleaning thing tomorrow #that’s enough word salad from me I’m just being autistic and gushing about how much I love jack #spn #jack kline #supernatural #he smiled while he killed Michael too….dont even get me started on what he did with Nick …. god he’s so #he’s so ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️#literally the character of all fucking time I will not be arguing about this I love him so much #jackposting #spn fandom #I’m . Augh .#having emotions sorry gang #liek yes yes we get it he looks like them both can you say something else please #he’s like . a fully functioning person with thoughts and development btw. if you even care #he’s so cool and awesome and silly #category 7 autism event #jack spn #destiel #but only briefly

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chikkou · 2 months

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ok i was waiting until my laptop got here to finally tell all the bullshit thats happened in the last like. 5 months lol. cause its a lot to type

im gonna put it all under the cut so no one has to read if they dont want. its a LONG fucking story.

tl;dr:

ok so for basic background, for the last two years or so, i was living with a roommate in connecticut. the roommate was my (now former) best friend since middle school. in july of this year his behavior totally shifted, and he started picking fights with me out of nowhere, told our high school friends a bunch of straight up lies abt me to make me look like a horrible roommate & person, and just generally became a two-faced dickhead. in the end, it turned out to all be excuses to justify his decision to move out (unofficially, name was still on the lease) so that he could live with his boyfriends and not pay any bills. at the time i was really devastated by this bc i felt totally betrayed by this person i had been close to since i was 12/13, but frankly after everything else that happened i barely fucking think about it now LMAO. this is set dressing more than anything else

so anyway, i had been living alone since about august, that was the last time i saw him in person. i wasnt handling the situation well because i had spoken to my high school friend and found out the extent to which hed tried to paint me as a slovenly, horrible roommate, to the point of telling actual lies about really dumb stuff (which didnt work btw - my friends, god bless them, were more concerned about my mental health than anything and thought i was going down a depression spiral, which my former friend told them he was helping me through. they believed me right away once we finally did talk). all that is to say, i was going kind of crazy lol, and i decided to go back home in october just for a short while, to recharge my batteries and all.

i was gone for a couple of weeks, not very long. i felt MUCH better after being with my family & friends in person, as i felt pretty isolated from everyone (my hometown is in new york, i was only 2 hours away by train but scheduling times to visit was sort of a hassle, so i only did it once every couple months). my grandfather and mom dropped me off at my apartment in early november, we were very lighthearted and discussing my next steps, since my shithead friend had been behind on rent more than 5 times (i always paid my half on time) and i was facing eviction because of it. we get to my apartment, i go to open the door, and it wont open. not that its locked, it just straight up WONT open. my grandpa tried to ram the door with his shoulder, and nothing. hes a strong ass dude, and this door wouldnt budge for anything.

my mom managed to get the kitchen window open and climb in that way, and it took both her and my grandpa pulling/pushing at the same time to force the door open. i wont even dress this up: there was mold. fucking. everywhere. on the floor, on the walls, all over everything i owned. i have pictures (had to take them for insurance) and im not even going to show them because they are beyond fucking disgusting. everything i owned was soaked in water and mold, and i do literally mean EVERYTHING. it was very warm in there too, like the temperature of a swamp. i was in a haze after that. i just remember sobbing, like genuinely heartbroken sobbing, as i wandered around looking at everything that was ruined. my mom & grandpa had to go and get maintenance because i was just utterly useless, and they were equally horrified & said they'd never seen anything like it.

i managed to save some items that were irreplaceable (journals, notebooks, etc) and whatever clothes werent utterly soaked in mold. all of my cookware, my books, my laptop & desktop (i cried the hardest when i saw the desktop) - it was all ruined. we found out later that the water boiler in my apartment had a catastrophic failure while i was gone, which caused it to constantly send water back through the pipes, empty, and refill itself. my bedroom was directly above the boiler downstairs, so it got the most significant amount of damage. all told, i lost like 95% of the things i owned. it is possible that i could have saved more, but the amount of mold in that apartment made it a genuine safety hazard for me to even be in there, so i had very limited time to grab what i could. the cruelest irony of all that? my shithead ex-friend's room, which was on the other side of the hallway, was pretty much untouched. he lost absolutely nothing lol.

so immediately, i had to leave the state. i moved back to ny with my family. my mother - who had a stroke last year following a diagnosis of an exceedingly rare neurological disorder, AND had two separate brain surgeries to improve her quality of life - was in the process of getting evicted. the landlord didnt give a fuck about any of my moms situation, not her being disabled, not her being widowed, not her having 3 kids under the age of 18 to care for - he just wanted her out so he could increase the cost of rent on our house. at the same time as all this was going on, i got saddled with a $600 electric bill (likely caused by the water heater's malfunction), which neither insurance nor the apartment would pay, so it came out of my pocket. in addition, i found out in december that i was also getting laid off.

we had nowhere to go and couldnt afford to live anywhere in the tri-state area. we had no choice but to move somewhere much cheaper, and since my mom already had a friend living in a mid-atlantic state, we chose to move there. the eviction went through in january and we had less than 2 weeks to pack all our shit, find a place to live, and get the fuck out. needless to say, we were not successful lol.

we stayed in my grandparents 1 bedroom apartment for about a week, then all of us drove down together to stay with my moms friend in her 3 bedroom apartment (she has 5 kids, 3 of whom live in the apartment). my moms apartment, which was supposed to have been ready by january 31st, still had people actively living there. the property manager kept promising us it would be next week for the entire month of february, to the point that my mom got fed up and chose to rent a small house instead. the reality of being essentially homeless for that time was beyond horrifying, and having anywhere between 8-10 people in that house (my cousin also moved with us, but he stayed in a hotel for the first week) was more taxing than i can express.

but things have gotten a lot better since then. i also found a cute little house to rent just up the road from my moms, and its very cheap for its size. i still havent found a job yet, but thanks to what was essentially the liquidation of everything i owned, ill be ok for a couple months more. im slowly but surely repurchasing all the things i lost and trying to acclimate to the new environment. things are still not totally stable right now, but they are slowing down, and at this point thats all i can really ask for lol.

so yeah. if u were wondering why i suddenly stopped posting after literal years of posting every day, thats why LMAO

#dark lord saltine #ik this is a massive overshare but fuck it #lifes been fucking hard lol #i have legit been saying ''everything happens so much'' since this all kicked off lmao #its sort of the family motto at this point

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wooahaes · 1 year

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getting to know you

pairing: non-idol!husband!joshua x fem(afab)!reader

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: mentions of giving birth/pregnancy/newborn baby (afab reader who is referred to as a mother). some postpartum depression notes. mentions of struggles with fertility. no proofreading, intentional lowercase. writer is going through some thoughts tonight lol

daisy’s notes: rare present tense daisy bc i think it works better here. sorry for a more emotional thing, i’m dealing with a lot of thoughts haha im almost 23 i shouldnt even be thinking abt having kids rn and yet.

this... wasn’t the way things went in fiction.

with joshua out, you’ve had a lot of time to reflect. all you really could do from your hospital bed, curled up on your side, was just your newborn daughter as she slept peacefully in her crib. she has his nose, you think. maybe his eyes, too. truthfully, you hope she does. you’d always told joshua you hoped your baby would have his pretty eyes. she’s still so tiny, so wrinkly, but she’s alive and well and now she’s back with you again. a tiny part of you thinks that most mothers would be holding their newborn now, cradling that tiny life that you supported for so many months and falling more and more in love by the second.

yet... it hadn’t really clicked yet. you love her because she’s your daughter, the way that all mothers should, but...

it’s hard to say you love her past that, cruel as it may seem. the online forums told you that it was normal to not feel attached yet. you’d just gone through hours of labor with your husband’s hand clutching your own, you were exhausted. if anything, you should be using this time to rest until joshua comes back. although you’d already eaten by now (the soup the hospital had given you was actually delicious, but you still aren’t sure whether that’s because of the fact you were ravenous or if it was legitimately good), joshua had promised you a dessert of your choosing. a celebratory thing for giving birth.

(now that you're alone, you don’t think you really wanted him to leave yet. but he told you to rest before he left, kissing you one last time before keeping to his promise that he’d made months ago.)

a light knock at the door catches your attention, and in walks your husband with a bag and a gentle smile on his face. “i’m back,” he says, shutting the door behind himself. he comes over to your bed, gently kissing you once more before setting your dessert aside. “how are you feeling?”

empty. you look at your infant daughter again. i shouldn’t be. “tired.”

“it’s okay,” he says, making his way over to the crib. “i’ll watch her. you should eat and sleep, honey.”

he’s so gentle with picking her up, securing her in his arms and looking at her like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world (and she is, truly: you think she is, but you just wish you could feel more for her than what you do). he settles into a chair, and all you can do is watch your husband as he oh-so-lovingly gazes at the product of so, so much time. getting pregnant took so long, and you still remember crying with joshua when the test was finally pregnant (and again after your doctor confirmed it with a blood test, just to assuage your own fears that it was a false positive). in fiction it happens on accident, or after a few attempts. no one told you that you’d be trying for so damn long before your body did what you wanted it to do.

“it’s okay, you know.”

you perk up a little when joshua speaks, his gaze having yet to leave your baby. “shua?”

“you don’t have to be bonded to her immediately,” he says. he remembers the conversation the two of you had about a week ago about this same exact topic. what if i don’t love her yet? “she’s a new person. you didn’t love me before you knew me, right?”

he has a point. as did every single website you turned to in an attempt to calm yourself down during that treacherous countdown to giving birth. this is normal, they would say. not all parents bonded with their baby right away. and yet you can’t help but feel guilty that you’re another one of them, stuck watching your husband and your baby have the bond you wish you could already have.

“we’re still getting to know her,” he says gently. “it’s okay.”

you let out a sigh, curling up on your side again--careful of your own stitches. the recovery process would be hell on its own (hell, you know whatever they gave you is wearing off more and more as you become acutely aware just how sore your body is), but your focus is just on you, your husband, and your baby. “do you love her?”

“that doesn’t matter,” he says. “i do. and i know you do, too. but she’s still a stranger to me, you know?” he stands, carefully making his way over to sit down next to you. “i love you,” he says. “i think she has your lips.”

“she was just born, shua,” you weakly smile as you lean into his side.

“like you haven’t been staring at her thinking about how she has my nose,” he smiles, too. the pains of having a husband so deeply in love with you that he knows your thoughts well by now... plus your previous conversations about what you thought she’d look like probably come to mind now, too. “i think,” he says, “she’s just as beautiful as her mom.”

what a sap, you think. but he’s your sap. “just as pretty as you, too,” you tease, cheek pressing against his arm. “she really does have your eyes, you know.”

“she’s ours,” he says with this warm, loving pride in his voice. he looks to you, still smiling so gently (and enough for the both of you, you think: he knows your struggling now), “i hope she likes us, you know.”

the thought makes you snort a little. “god, i hope so, too.”

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #joshua x reader #joshua x you #joshua hong x reader #joshua hong x you

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jardin-de-limaginaire · 1 year

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Heyy How you doing? I wanted to make a request for Mischa Bachinski × reader where reader is like this popular but not mean kind of girl in town. Like everyone loves her and she's in every club she can and has good grades in school (which can be a problem for ocean), her friends'parents absolutely love her, etc. And like mischa and her don't talk to much, so he thinks she doesn't even remember his name. (Kind of like the song Gold Rush by taylor swift now that I think abt it? Idk).

The point is ofc she likes him, but she thinks he doesn't like her bc of his angry persona and all of that stuff (also what would people say if they saw her hanging out with someone with such a bad raputation?)

And when they finally clear things up and become friends they end completely falling in love w each other and have to tell each other at some point.

I feel like this is way too long and specific, so don't worry if it bores you or smth, ily :))

Hello! I'm currently very busy with school, but I'll still try writing oneshots at any opportunity I have! And don't worry, I love writing very long and detailed works, and I find it easier when the request is longer because I know what I need to write.

(P.S. In this fanfic, (Y/N) has two moms, which will be referred to as mama and mom, cuz I just felt like it.) (Also, they will appear in the next request too, so be prepared to see them again)

Also, sorry for not writing in a few weeks, I've been going through a long depressive episode lately, but now I've got the motivation to write again

(TW: None!)

Word count: 1,364 words

Beauty and the beast (Mischa Bachinski x Popular!fem!reader fluff)

(𝓨/𝓝)'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥

"The most loved girl in town" has been a Title that I've worn like a badge for most of my life. Ever since I was younger, I knew three things:

"Be friendly to others because you don't know what they're going through, be smart so that you can one day help others live a better life, and last but not least, be happy for making others happy"

At least, that's what my parents always told me, and I obeyed them. These rules have been actually helpful for me. Thanks to them, I am now known by everyone in town as being "The most loved girl in town", thanks to my personality.

I always help others when in need, and thanks to that, I've made a lot of friends. Yes, some of them have been fake to me, but I still have forgiven them.

I am also one of the best students in school. I've never got any grade below 79%, and I am also in every club in St. Cassian high school, including the school choir.

Speaking about the school choir, I am friends with a lot of people, even with my rival, Ocean. We don't hate each other, but we are indeed rivals in every class. After we get the scores on one of our tests, the one who has the lower grade needs to buy Taco Bell from my friend, Noel, and pay with the "loser"'s money.

Even if I have a lot of friends in school, I am not friends with one boy, who's name is Mischa Bachinski. To be honest, I would like to be friends with him, but I don't think he would want to be friends with me, a goodie two shoes.

I should probably try to become friends with him. Everyone has a good soul. There's no such thing as bad people. Mischa is just misunderstood, that's the problem, and I would like to try to break him out of his shell formed of anger.

The next morning, after I woke up, I decided to make a little bracelet for Mischa, since I want to start a friendship with him, and there's no better way than to make a friendship bracelet.

I spent a few minutes making the bracelet, which also included his name, and I felt very proud of myself, yet I was still kind of scared that he might reject my friendship bracelet.

After I was done making it, I put it on my wrist, and then took my backpack, and went downstairs to eat together with my moms.

As I was walking downstairs, I observed the decoration around the house. There were seventeen pictures of me, going from up to down. The first picture was a picture of myself when I was one, and the seventeenth one was of me in the present. I'm not exaggerating one bit when I tell you that my moms are very proud of me. They always brag with pride about how smart I am to everyone they meet. Most parents even beg me to be friends with their kids, so that they can learn to be "better". Of course, I befriended their kids, but I never tried to change them. Everyone is perfect in their own way.

"Goodmorning, (Y/N)! How was your sleep?" Asked my mama. I looked at her and I smiled, as my other mom was making breakfast for us.

"It was wonderful!" I said as my mom gave me an omelet.

"Well, we're glad that you slept well!" Mom said as she sat next to mama and me.

I began eating as if there were no tomorrow, and then got off my seat and waved at my moms.

"Wait, (Y/N)!" Mama said as she walked to me, and pulled my sleeve up, to show the bracelet that I was planning to give to Mischa.

"Young lady. Who is this "Mischa"?" She asked as she smirked. I blushed a little.

"Oh, he's a boy in choir, and I want to become friends with him, so I made him this bracelet," I said, and both mama and mom smiled at each other.

"That's good, honey! Hope we can meet him one day!" Said mom, as both she and mama waved at me.

I waved back and then headed off to school.

I have gotten to the choir and looked around for Mischa. he was indeed here, but he was sitting on his phone.

I walked up to him.

"Hello, Mischa!" I waved at him. He looked at me surprised.

"Wait, you remembered my name?" He asked. I nodded. "What do you want from me?"

"Well, I would like to become friends with you, only if you don't mind!" I said, and I took the bracelet off my wrist and showed it to him.

he looked in awe at the bracelet and extended his hand to take it. He took it so gently, it was as if he never got any gifts from anyone.

"Wow..." He said, and then looked at me. "You really had time to make a gift...for me?"

I nodded. He looked even more in astonishment at the bracelet. He looked like he wanted to cry, but he hid it behind the facade of someone with a "cool guy" persona. "Thank you, druh!" He smiled at me.

"Sorry if I seem rude, but what does "druh" mean?" I asked with a confused smile. He started chuckling. "Druh means friend in ukrainian." He said, still looking at the bracelet.

"Wait, you see me as a friend?" I asked once again. He smiled again.

"Of course! No one here ever gave me a gift, and you are the only one who gave me something even if we don't know each other very well."

He explained. My eyes sparkled. Then he added with a slight blush, "Thanks." I smiled brightly at him, and we continued chatting until class started. I just know that this will start a beautiful friendship.

I'll never forget the day when I befriended Mischa. Since then, we've been like two peas in a pod, rarely separated. Even though I've only been friends with Mischa for a few weeks, I consider him one of my closest friends.

After school, Mischa waited for me outside, and we decided to walk home together. He held my arm, and it felt so nice…but also weird. It was like a tingle running through my body, and my heart started beating fast.

We talked more and more, while slowly getting closer and closer to each other. I could feel a lump form in my throat. Why was I reacting like this? Maybe it's because I had never felt this before. Was this normal? Or was I overreacting? I couldn't tell. Our arms were touching, which was weird. I didn't like being touched by strangers, and Mischa was definitely not the type of person whom I would willingly touch. However, I enjoyed holding hands with Mischa. We arrived at Mischa's house. "See you at school, (Y/N)" Mischa said with a saddened expression as he wanted to enter his house. I stopped him, which made him look back at me "Hey, Mischa," I began, "I actually wanted to ask you something…" "Yeah?" He replied, sounding slightly nervous. "I…I…really like you! I blurted out. His face changed completely, and he looked shocked. He looked at me for a moment. "Why?" He asked. "Well, I guess I don't know! I just found out today that I have a crush on you, and then I couldn't stop thinking about you!" Misha began laughing. "Well, (Y/N), I like you too." He said, smiling. "Really?!?" I asked as I wasn't sure if I heard correctly. But then, it happened: he hugged me. A hug from Mischa Bachinski. "Yes, (Y/N), I really like you too." He said as he broke the hug. We stared into each other's eyes and smiled shyly. This relationship will truly begin like any cheesy romantic comedy.

𝑅𝑒𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑔 >> 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 (𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈)

#Randommoonchild #reader insert #ride the cyclone #ride the cyclone x reader #mischa x reader #mischa bachinski x reader #mischa bachinski #mischa rtc #ride the cyclone mischa #ride the cyclone musical #rtc x reader #rtc musical #rtc

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romanarose · 4 months

Text

Life update if anyone cares.

I only post this bc i was posting my depressing shit for months and a lot of people were reaching out in concern <3

cw sever depression, self harm, suicide, csa, SA, all the bad. but also lots of good <3

TLDR: Despite a god-awful semester, i got all a's and b's

Everyone thats been following me the last few months has seem my personal posts about how fucking awful things have been for me.

I've dealt with fact I can no longer deny that what happened to me was CSA, despite being on a milder side of things. That sparked an absolutely spiral. I didnt sleep for months which made things worse. School, I got an F on a midterm and i NEVER get F's on writing assignments.

Work had its complications and i quit and then rescinded that quit two days later. I was so constantly depressed in my dorm my roommate literally told me i needed to go to the basketball game with them bc i was sitting in a depression hovel none stop. I only went to services twice this whole time, one shabbat and once for Rosh Hoshannah.

I burned the ever living fuck out of my fingers, yall remember that one? lol.

In novemeber i had relapsed so severely on self harm i thought i had accidentally killed myself. I should've called 911. I thought I was bleeding out and/or going into shock. I then worked myself up more by going down pages of the internet about medical shook and people dying from it. that did not help my heart rate. I couldn't stand, I couldnt see straight for a while.

I could not afford an ambulance or a hospital stay as i am uninsured and only ork 25 hours a week. not a lot of money.

All this happened and I didn't miss work. This is not a brag, this is me not being able to makegood choices for myself.

Finally, thanksgiving break hit. Thank fucking god. I WANTED to use those 4 days of absolutely nothing to get to my TWO BIG RESEARCH PAPERS I HADNT STRTED YET but alas, I was SICK. I was so sick, in fact, and so hoped up on cough medicine for 3 days i was incomprehensible.

I was so physically ill, i couldnt even think about how mentally ill i was. I slept and slept and slept. And by the time sunday hit, I felt so recharged.

My failed midterm was so bad and so not me my professsor reached out to me. Im close with him (in a v appropriate way lol, hes a bruce springsteen fan too) and i felt comfortable telling him essentially that for a few months there things were severe, and I really should've gone in for a 72 hour hold multiple times and i was not safe. through a few lines of resources, I ended up back in therapy bc my school added a new therapist that is a woman (i stopped going last year bc i didnt like seeing a man)

I like my new therapist.

Anway, in about 2 weeks I wrote 2 12 page research papers, 2 book report papers, 1 science paper did 2 presentations, took 2 finals, wrote 2 more finals with essay questions, and at the end of it all, not only did I not fail any classes...

I GOT ALL A'S AND B'S! Which means my gpa is still high enough to renew my scholarship for my last year

I am so fucking proud of myself for accomplishing all this despite suffering so fucking badly. I havnt felt pain like that in years, just agony.

I had a down turn again over christmas bc my siblings were literally ass, upto and including making fun of me for not ating (i am multiple accounts of sexual trauma from several people, so im scared of dating), making fun of my eating, and my sister slapping me and my older brother hitting me. Was a bad time. But for right now, im in the place im staying for break (all january) im back at my old day care and they love me, and olive garden at this store has been going great

Im hoping next semester to be better, im hopful at least

Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who has supported my writing has supported me through these times. It makes me happy that i came her to share my silly little moon knight x reader series, not really intending on writing a whole lot, but next thing i know, i have friends and a lil community. so thank you <3

#romana personal posts #cw suicide #cw self harm #cw csa #cw sa

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amethystina · 2 months

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Oh man!! The latest chapter!!! The angst was angsting, pain was paining, heart is wrenching, tear is falling, it was soooo mean, but do it again!!!

It was the longest chapter and ironically the most painful chapter as well. Have I said how much I love slow burn and angst and this fic hits home everytime?? Likeee woah I just LOVE how this fic is LOOONG , nowhere near close bc that means I get me read it longer lol.

And I feel like I would never be able to appreciate how much hard work you put in Who Holds the Devil.

I am guessing it is now Ga On's turn to pursue Yohan and Oh man I can already imagine how much he is gonna suffer while doing it 😭 or maybe not (bc he tends to be pretty straightforward at times and impulsive as well) but I believe it's gonna be pretty hard bc Gaon has so much shit to get together and Yohan, my man, already gave up (poor him) so gaon trying to persue him or rather seduce his sugar daddy would look very suspicious to him. Nevertheless I am exited to see Gaon try and miserably, comically and hilariously half fail bc he will succeed eventually as Yohan is too much of a loser for Gaon lol. I am excited for future chapters and definitely wouldn't complain about more angst lol.

It was necessary for this to happen, otherwise the story would go nowhere and most importantly Gaon and Yohan would go nowhere, their problems will never be solved. Sometimes hitting rock bottom is crucial to develop in life BUT I would hate it if it happens to me, hope I will be able to get my shits together before that happens ( or maybe it already happened but I am not relizing it or not acknowledging it much like gaon but he is better than me ngl at least he has the courage)

This became a rant about me naur 😭

Lastly I hope you have a great day and things work out for you 💕

Also idk if it's your cup of tea but My Happy Ending kdrama is sooo good and worth giving it a try. It's a psychological suspense drama hehe. I am soo invested in it nowadays so couldn't help recommending you as well 💫

It was a painful chapter, yeah. And I'm both relieved and heartbroken to finally have it out there. As someone who doesn't actually like angst, this chapter was a struggle in more than one way. But it's necessary if I want their relationship to move forward, so here we are.

At this point, writing Who Holds the Devil has sort of turned into a second job, not going to lie. I still enjoy it, make no mistake, but I have to plan all of my other hobbies around it since I feel an obligation to post somewhat regularly. Like, I've been postponing drawing for the past two weeks because I wanted to get this chapter out (that's how long it took to edit, yes) but drawing is the thing that helps the most with my depression symptoms (that have made an unwanted reappearance due to my burnout), so I've been struggling quite a bit. And now all I want to do is draw for a couple of days.

So yeah. I can't lie and say it's not a lot of work, both in terms of planning, writing, editing, etc., but also how it affects the rest of my life. BUT I just love it too much to give up on it ;)

And yes, Ga On will have to be the one to pursue Yo Han now ;) Or, well, eventually. He has to wallow and overthink things a bit first because, well, Ga On. If overthinking things was an Olympic sport, he'd win the gold for sure. But he WILL give Yo Han what he wants in the end, I promise.

In short, the "the only way after hitting rock bottom is up" saying is pretty apt in this case.

There's still hope, so just hang in there :)

I looked at the plot for My Happy Ending but I admit it didn't really catch my attention. But that could be because I don't really watch much right now? I'm too busy writing and drawing. I'm also trying to finish a drama I started ages ago called Mad Dog. Which, let me tell you, it's disorientingly gay for a drama about insurance fraud. But unlike The Devil Judge I'm not sure if they're actually AWARE of how gay it is? (especially since it's from 2017)

But, like, if I had a penny for every time I've watched a drama in which a traumatised, older man brings home a reckless, bratty twink after said twink got injured — under the pretence of protecting him from more harm — only for the twink to start snooping around his house before deciding to charm the dude with home-cooked food and then just doesn't leave I would have two pennies. Which isn't a lot, but it's still weird that it's happened twice.

Also, what the heck do they want me to think when they have these kinds of angles when the two dudes are arguing?

That looks questionable both in and out of context. BUT that could also be because Woo Do Hwan could have sexual tension with a goddamn rock. Rarely have I seen a man with so much "fuck me and find out" energy as his character in this drama.

But the twink also has a romantic plotline with the woman on the team, at the same time as he's living in the older dude's apartment and giving this poor dude all kinds of conflicted feelings because he's a widower who's lived alone since his wife and kid died and suddenly there's someone in his apartment cooking him food, nagging at him when he comes late and drunk etc. etc. Like, bruh. It really sounds like the twink is his new wife? And I am SO CONFUSED because the drama plays it so straight (without the "hint, hint, nudge, nudge" winks that The Devil Judge had) that I'm about to have an existential crisis.

Fellas, is it gay if this is the face you make when you're told you're not actually living with the man who took you home to keep you safe after you almost got murdered but then you accidentally behaved like his concerned and doting wife?

Asking for a friend.

(and don't even get me started on the whole "Bring Your Twink to Work Day" scene)

At this point, I'm half convinced I'm gaslighting myself into thinking this is gay when it's actually just a really heartwarming story about a really deep bromance that I'm too queer to understand.

ANYWAY. Thanks for the rec! But I'm not sure if it's my thing and I'm really bad at watching things right now. But I'm thrilled to hear that you're having so much fun with it! I'm happy for you! :D

And thank you so much for the lovely message 💜

#Amethystina Replies #1-boiledpotato #Who Holds the Devil #Amethystina Writes #I swear #Watching Mad Dog is so very disorienting #Because it's genuinely SO GAY to me #But I've seen no one else so much as mention this #Is it just because the right people haven't watched it?#Or am I going crazy?#Who knows at this point #Sorry that this answer became more about Mad Dog than Who Holds the Devil #It's just been weighing very heavily on me lately xD #I AM SO CONFUSED

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robinwithay · 4 months

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I'm mean this very /gen, but I've seen a lot of posts recently talking about how fans need to think more about Aziraphale and not baby Crowley and based on these posts fans seem heavily skewed towards Crowley but... I'm hardly in this Fandom, I pop in from time to time to see art and fic and meta for like a week or two, go away for a bit, and then come back and check in again, and generally what I've seen more than anything, is posts about Aziraphale and his trauma and why he's suffering the most and Crowley should have Done Better and Aziraphale Defense no matter what, any aziraphale critique seen as hate...

So I'm not sure where this disconnect is happening. We're apparently seeing completely opposite sides of the Fandom, but it seems like the overwhelming majority. So I see posts that are like, okay let's focus more on Aziraphale, and I'm like, that's literally all I'm seeing......this isn't meant to start something, bc I honestly am curious how this is happening and how everyone is either miscommunicating or idk something

hi anon! first of all, sorry it took me so long to get to this ask - it's partly because i really don't know the answer. i've spoken to others about this phenomenon of everyone seeming to only see the opposite of whatever "side" they've personally chosen, and it does seem to happen a lot. i have a theory it's partially confirmation bias - as in people ignore what they see that agrees with what they already think, and only focus on/remember what doesn't because they want to believe there is opposition to their opinion - partially temporal (maybe especially temporal for you, if you only dip in and out!) - as in more people have come around to seeing Aziraphale's side of things the more time has passed after the initial pain of s2 making a lot of people side more with Crowley - and partially that there is a real divide.

personally, i think that choosing "sides" between two characters who love each other is...silly. i think both of them were wrong and right in different ways, they both hurt each other, and they both have some development they need to do to forgive and earn each other's forgiveness.

however, i do think there was a huge initial wave of hatred thrown at Aziraphale that some folks are still very much riding. since season 1, i think Crowley has always been the fandom favourite, and i say that in full appreciation of the fact that in terms of fandom, the GO fandom is a rare one where the disparity between fandom favourites is much smaller than in most. plenty of people love Aziraphale, but he doesn't tend to get the same treatment as Crowley. and it's understandable - Crowley is a sad wet cat of a demon, and people love an underdog, an antihero. i think a lot of folks really relate to Crowley in his bitterness, his depression, his resent. he's been treated badly, rejected, tossed aside, and persists regardless, and - unfortunately - a lot of people know how that feels. it helps that Crowley is very easy to read (despite his best efforts), especially to the audience. his motivations are clear and relatable.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, is...kinda more complicated. he's generally operating on so many layers of deceit and denial that i don't know if he himself fully understands how he truly feels half the time - he's not honest about his emotions to the audience or himself. that doesn't make for an accessible, relatable character for most people, but for those with whom it resonates, it really resonates.

let me be clear: Crowley is not a bad character for being easier to read. Aziraphale is not a bad character for being harder to read. they're just different and appeal to different people.

#good omens #ask

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wetcatspellcaster · 22 days

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hello! i have a question about finding time to write because i have an idea for an astarion fic but it's my first year in my ph.d. program and i am DROWNING IN WORK AND READINGS. how did you do this AND work on your dissertation? (also congrats on that!!! that's massive!!!)

hello, anon, congratulations to YOU on your phd programme!! many felicitations on the continuing of your education.

I took a while to reply to this, bc I'm not sure if I'm the best person to ask this question. my personal answer is 'hyperfixate on the dopamine source so, so hard until you burnout, and then feel guilty bc you haven't updated in ages (I'm currently one week since an update), and then let that guilt become your new motivator! :D'

...which doesn't seem very healthy. and definitely impacts my ability to answer the question in a way that is actually helpful.

so i don't have an answer, but my honest pieces of advice are below the cut.

idk what kinda PhD you are doing, but if it's a humanities, in my experience, there are dips and lulls. first year is always a bit hectic bc the imposter syndrome is high and you feel like you're treading water to stay afloat. but things will get so much easier, and will in fact go through peaks and troughs! in 2nd and 3rd year, i had months without any work at all. wait for a trough to do some drafting. if you're currently really struggling, then just sketch as detailed an outline as you can in a document when the idea is fresh, and then you can return to it in dribs and drabs when you have a spare moment. [if you're a scientist, apologies in advance, you have a much harder life than me!] .

this one isn't very burnout friendly, but i am introverted and treat writing fic like a hobby for when i have no social battery. then my fic battery runs out, i go be social. yes, this kinda just spreads the burnout around. yes, i also know writing is still work! but it doesn't feel like it, to me. so I guess make your fic idea as much about fun, and as least about work, as possible. make it into the catnip that will make you come back to it. treat it as an escape rather than another magnum opus, or god forbid, a second dissertation. .

this also applies to PhD work - again, if you are a humanities student, you'll inevitably hit a writing block in your thesis. these are normal, and though they feel like the worst thing at the time, they will inevitably shift. thesis writing block when i was often very productive with fic, bc my thesis wasn't taking up my brain power and/or taking time away from my thesis was exactly what i needed. If you're burned out on the thesis, maybe spend some time just playing around in your brain for a bit. my friend told me about how she used fic as a way to build 'mastery' - when she was depressed or feeling down about her thesis, she would do something she knew she was good at (fic), and this would lift her mood. in the self critical world of academia, sometimes a little fic positivity goes a long way (at least for me, but that's bc both my supervisors are very very harsh, the exact opposite of the AO3 comment box). .

find an update schedule that works for you. i used to write a whole fic before i published any of it, but that's become more untenable as my wordcounts get bigger and i need motivation. now, comments fuel me when i'm drafting. so honestly, if you think posting will add pressure, don't post. write it just for you. if you think posting is the only thing that will keep the idea alive, do it and then don't feel guilt if there's a large gap in updates. people will still read it when it eventually goes up! :)

Honestly, I don't really have an answer. I wrote a lot these last few months bc I was feeling very depressed with the endgame of my thesis, and writing distracted me and made me feel better. I try to keep two nights a week free for fic, but that works for me bc I'm an introvert who lives alone. I don't think you can force it, but what I can tell you is that the PhD does get much, much easier (and that first year is also a perfectly legit time to faff around a bit and commit some time theft if you want - at least in the humanities, bc you'll still have so much time in your project).

I'm sorry I don't have a clear answer! Fic is important to me, so I make time for it, sometimes to my own detriment. If your PhD is what is important to you rn, fic can wait! Similarly, if you want to take some time away from that treading water, maybe microdose an hour or so of fic to start building mastery :) xx

#asks #anons #academia tag #good luck with both your thesis and your fic idea anon!!

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moonjxsung · 8 days

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haiiii bb✨ i hope you had the best weekend!

i’m still not sure how he managed to do that tbh, i don’t think it’s too easy to achieve😅 so momo is prob safe from that. wasabi is an orange cat, we can’t expect much from him in the braincell department. im glad baby momo is getting better too🫶🏻 we stan her

frfr, idk how people abandon their pets. i’m literally so attached to every animal ever. i see a stray cat at a park and i’ll think of them forever and worry about them too. and people who don’t spay their cats and expect them to be outdoors are such assholes. i’ve had to spay/neuter 10+ cats due to overpopulation in the last two years and i have four more females to go (excluding my own 8 out of 9 cats). it’s insane and so so so sad. the fact that they took off the collar is so stupid too. it really sucks. i cannot comprehend.

star, idk how you do it!!! living where you live in the kpop era must be so hard😭 like, we love the exposure but my bank doesn’t. i sometimes wish i lived somewhere with a lot of kpop concerts but kinda not at the same time bc i just know i couldn’t afford most of them and i’d get the worst case of fomo. i wish you the best at your choice of concerts😂

anddd i didn’t know you stanned nct dream or itzy! follow up: which groups do you stan and who are your biases? i lovveeeee nct! i don’t really stan any ggs aside from twice and new jeans but i’d so love to listen to more so any recs would be gr8!!!

frfr ive never been confident with myself (and ik that’s like my biggest problem bc confidence is so attractive). kpop beauty standards kinda took a toll on me especially after my surgery, grad school, depression worsening etc etc. but ive learned to make delulu my solulu and be like “minho would love me even if im not pretty or skinny” and all is well (what he wouldn’t love about me is that i only eat meat when i absolutely have to bc i hate it😂). i love skincare though so if you ever need to discuss skincare im ur girl🔥 aside from kpop, plushies & cats my ocd also manifests at compulsively buying hundreds of dollars of skincare products🔥

i love you my darling bb. i hope you have the best week!! i’ve never had cheese danishes therefore im so glad i virtually tried them with you💕

-🐈‍⬛

HIIIIIIIII BBYYYY I HOPE YOU HAD THE BEST MONDAY 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Momo is doing so much better today (she’s currently napping on my freshly washed laundry❤️) so I think it might’ve been a weather thing! Hopefully her itching doesn’t come back but I’m still gonna look into bee pollen and see if it helps :’)

I KNOW I feel so very overprotective of every cat ive ever come across and it baffles me that people are just okay with abandoning their cats like that?? Especially after YEARS of owning them!??? How 😭 I don’t even like leaving momo alone for the day (despite her having an automatic feeder and a water fountain and cameras to watch her every move) so I don’t know how people abandon a cat indefinitely 💔 it’s fr so sad to me

HONESTLY it was so much easier to save money when there weren’t so many kpop things here but now we have kpop stores at every corner with v exclusive merch and preorder benefits and concerts every MONTH I can’t save money for the life of me 😭 I SWEARRRRR I buy some useless kpop thing at least once a week it’s so bad! I’m on a buying ban right now bc I just bought jhope’s on the street merch and that is ALLLL I am letting myself buy for the foreseeable future 🫡 hopefully

I LOOOOOOVE NCT OH MY GOSHHHHH okay list of my groups & biases (I might miss a few so bear w me):

Skz: JISUNGGGGG & Felix is my bias wrecker 🫶💖

Bts: jhope!!!!!!!!! Jin is my bias wrecker!

Nct 127: Yuta & Haechan! Wreckers always change but right now probs Taeyong (enlistment era starts today😔)

Nct Dream: I literally just started getting more serious about being into them despite listening to their music for a while LOL but deffffff Renjun & Haechan! 🫶

Wayv: Xiaojun!!!!

Shinee: Onew ofcccc 👼 and Taemin is my wrecker (he’s everybody’s wrecker tbh)

Ateez: Hongjoong & Seonghwa/Yeosang wreckers!

Seventeen: Hoshi & Minghao!!

Txt: Heuningkai 🫶

G-idle: Minnie! I need to get more into them but she’s defffff my bias oh my god she’s so pretty

P1harmony: I’ve also recently been more into them. Jiung!!

The Boyz: Changmin!

Ikon: Bobby!

Blackpink: MY GIRL ROSÉ 💞

Nmixx: Jiwoo & Lily!!!

Itzy: RYUJIN.

EXO: Minseok!!!!

Twice: Dahyun!

Blitzers: Chris!!

Aespa: Winter!

I also listen to Lsrfm and New Jeans but I don’t have biases (I’m more just a casual listener) but I think that’s everyone!! I LOOOOOOVE NCT THOUGH RAHHHHHHH when I tell you I have been crying alllllll day bc of Taeyong enlistment FUCKKKK IM SO SAD 😭😭😭 did you see Mark and Haechan tried to go to his send off and missed it because their flight was rerouted?? GODDDD I’m so sad for them 😭 I brought my Ty bby to today’s coffee run I miss him already 😔💔

PLEASE kpop beauty standards hit you in the face when you least expect it frfr like I always told myself I didn’t care how I looked in comparison and all of a sudden it was like oh nvmmmm 😀 It comes and goes in waves as of now and lately I’ve been trying to work more on just liking myself as a person (and being delulu because that’s the solution to everything) and I also find that’s the best way to combat it 🫶 ALSO SKINCARE YESSSSS I will absolutely bug you for skincare recs I have the worst habit of buying skincare just for the cute packaging LMFAOOOO I need to buckle down and buy actual cute stuff 😭

I love you so much bby have the best week!!!!! Here’s today’s pc I took just for you 🫶👼 I love u!!!!!

#🐈‍⬛ anon #ask

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dreamersparacosm · 2 years

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consider.

"you were supposed to be there for me. and you weren’t. you weren’t there." or “you aren’t the person i fell in love with years ago.” or “frankly, i don’t give a fuck.”

surprise me, angelina. also love you and congrats again!

sfw!

note ; ally. how dare you. honestly we are just becoming the queens of angst and it is starting to concern me like who wronged us😫 anyway this is kinda inspired by ur fic bc i didn’t know what else to do and i rlly loved the prompt 😘

warnings ; none i can think of!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

theoretically, this is supposed to be the best night of your life. all the tears, all the yearning, all the trials and tribulations that landed you in your exact position: a modeling contract so prestigious you get the opportunity to walk in new york fashion week. theoretically, this was the first night of the rest of your career.

but your boyfriend, the one who got you to this point, the one who told you that you were born to model, the one who stood by you through every casting call, was nowhere to be found. in fact, if math hadn’t failed you, he was exactly 4,352 miles away from you.

instead, this was shaping up to be the worst night of your life.

“do you just not care? is that what this is?” you shout into the phone, pacing your hotel room that resembles more of a shoebox than anything else. the lights of the city spill in through a gap in your curtains. it’s daunting more than anything else.

thank god he can’t see your face, for if he did, he would see a girl with mascara smudged under her eyes, mimicking a raccoon, and an expression that was so desolate it would bring anyone to depression.

“no, no, baby, i swear. i swear to god i bought the tickets. check, check online! the flight is canceled,” austin rushes out in defense. he’s not lying — the flight really is canceled, so canceled that they’re not even delivering a new aircraft — but somehow, he feels like he is.

“god, austin, you picked the latest flight to new york! you couldn’t ask for the day off or something?” you’re gripping your hair so tight you nearly pull it out of your scalp.

“you know i can’t. i already took off so many days —“

“do they know this is my first runway show? christ’s sake, it’s for prada. this is my big debut. mine. and i’m in a fucking hotel room fighting with you because for some reason, you think your career is more important than mine!”

you’ve twisted the knife in too deep, and you know it. it’s just heavy breathing and silence from his end, nothing but useless thoughts swirling around in his brain. you’re burying homicidal urges, as if hating him will make him appear at your doorstep. “let’s talk tomorrow. i’ll see if i can catch the next flight out.”

you swallow down a sob that bubbles in your throat. your voice, just below a whisper, wavers as you speak, “you were supposed to be here for me. and you’re not. you’re not here.”

he is enraged at you for thinking that he didn’t want to be there with you, for believing that he would table your career for his own. his heart is ripping out of his chest excruciatingly, breaths coming out shaky. “i’m sorry, [y/n]. i tried.”

“no. you fucking didn’t.”

the next thing he hears is a click and a monotone buzz. he realizes seconds later that you’ve hung up on him and left him stranded in an airport in hungary, with nothing but his two carry-on bags and a love for you that transcends across any ocean.

sadly enough, that’s all he has left to give.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

join the celly here!

#answered #avengen #angelina’s 3.5k celly #austin butler #austin butler elvis #austin butler angst #austin butler blurb #austin butler fluff #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler smut

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wttcsms · 2 months

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sorry if you're not comfortable answering this, but I saw you say that you've been diagnosed with depression. how did you know when to seek help?

tl;dr: from a young age, i never lived a healthy lifestyle with an easy pace. i (and maybe even my family) put too much pressure on me, and i never really coped with it in a healthy manner. my attempt at handling things "with ease" and "not stressing" was actually just me bottling up my emotions, and it's not until things started getting really bad that i finally sought help.

nothing uncomfy abt it at all! discussion of mental health is pretty important! tbh, i never thought i would have depression or be diagnosed with it; i started showing symptoms for around a year before i started really thinking to myself, hey, i think there might be something up with me mentally and this isn't just some silly, quirky thing i'm going through. ever since i was around 18, i went through great lengths to ensure i would achieve maximum academic success but while being a full-time college student and consistently working 60+ hours a week (70+ during the summer bc my junior year internship was so intense; i also went to college 2 years early, so i think that's when the internal pressure to "do well in life" began) was taking a massive toll on me mentally and physically. i would survive off of 4-5 hours of sleep, consume concerning amounts of caffeine, i was losing hair, i was losing drastic amounts of weight, i was breaking out and breaking down, and even when i got better, i still wasn't fully ever healed from that experience purely bc my schedule just never slowed down.

i am still a full-time student, i am still working 7 days a week, leading to 60+ hours (40 hours internship, 20 hours at my weekend part-time job). on top of that, i am in the second to last semester of my grad school, i help out around the house bc after my older sister moved out, i took over the eldest daughter duties, i am still holding myself to a very high standard academically (already planning to apply to phd programs, studying for the cpa exam, already have another summer internship lined up). i knew things were getting bad because 1) i am finally older (im abt to turn 21! yay!) and i realized that the lifestyle i'm living isn't healthy and 2) a lot of my behaviors didn't feel "normal" to me anymore. it finally hit me around two months ago, when i realized that i sort of lost my love for fanfiction. i've been in a weird mood where i didn't want to read any fanfic whatsoever, but i chalked it up to being "too busy" and focused on other things. when i couldn't even find the energy to read my own mutual's fanfic, i knew something was up bc i always try to power through and remain enthusiastic on my friends' behalf. more behaviors that were a cause for concern:

my disinterest in everything that brought me joy previously. sweet treats at the end of the day, coffee before work, buying makeup from sephora, cleaning my room (sounds silly, but i love having a clean living space and cleaning my room used to be a source of peace and joy for me), writing fanfiction, reading books, watching youtube videos, catching up on shows that would release weekly and that i used to count down the days to watch — none of it held my interest. i wasn't excited, i didn't care.

it wasn't just a lack of joy from things i loved, either. rejections from programs i looked forward to/rejections from opportunities, abysmal grades in class, looming deadlines that i most likely wouldn't make, growing assignments on my work to-do list; none of this elicited a reaction from me. there was no stress (that i was feeling; subconsciously, i think the stress was still there and i just refused to acknowledge it), but there also wasn't disappointment or sadness. i had no emotional response to anything, and that was very concerning to me, and the main reason i contacted my sister and then her boyfriend (who is a licensed psychiatrist)

i could sleep for 12+ hours a day. there are many days in the week where all i want to do is rot in bed. not even in a "go on my phone and dick around in bed" type of way, either. i would have certain days where i couldn't leave the bed. sometimes, i wouldn't even feel tired, but i would just sleep. my internship is wfh and if it was a slow day with no assignments, i would clock in and spend that whole day in my bed, sleeping. it got to the point where i wish work was busy so i would have something to force me out of bed. yes, i would be aware of my tiredness sometimes, but this felt different altogether. i just wanted to basically hibernate lol.

i had constant headaches. i thought it was because of the nature of my job, where i look at computer screens all day, or maybe it was bc i wasn't drinking enough water. i would also get unexplainable cramps sometimes.

tmi, but little to no pleasure and an extreme decline in interest in sex

i had extreme issues with focusing on work and studying; a lot of my work (and school materials) centers around thinking through problems and applying tax law or guidance to certain situations.

my diet fluctuated; some days, i wouldn't want to eat, yesterday, i gorged myself on food, eating to the point where even i had to pause and go wtf.

not very often was i randomly sad, nor did i ever want to kill myself or self-harm; when i was a teenager (17/18) and probably showing signs of depression, i was very irritable, angry, sad, and had suicidal thoughts, thought i was worthless, an idiot, etc. however, i mostly just feel empty and apathetic during my episodes now.

what helped me seek help was knowing that my behaviors and how i was feeling didn't feel healthy, but also, my best friend recently shared her diagnosis with me and i would have never thought she would be depressed. my sister's bf was also a major help in getting me comfortable to consider the possibility of having a mental illness and also in finding someone to talk to. hope this helps!

edit: forgot to mention it, but i exhibited many/all of those symptoms for around the past 3 months before ever seeking help. those behaviors started manifesting tremendously and seriously disrupting my daily life, and i knew i needed to do something to get my life back on track.

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love-kurdt · 2 months

Text

This is Me Trying (Mike's Version) (byler): 1

word count: 6,469

warnings for this chapter: lots of sexual content!! underage drinking, mentions of drug use, roofie mention bc college, internalized homophobia, maaaajooorrrr depression. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

If someone were to ask me what time it was, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. First off, I would look down at my watch and realize that said watch was not on my wrist. I would then ask myself why my watch was not on my wrist, then I would remember, oh yeah, Will has a matching one, and I was dead to Will, so I didn’t wear the watch anymore. Time was just a construct, anyway. In the end, I’d probably mess around with the person asking and say some shit like, “It’s 420:69.” I was drunk, though, so I was allowed.

I was at some frat party, spending what was my last official night as a student at the University of Indianapolis with the brotherhood of Alpha Lambda Dickhole. I was seated on some musty couch, stained with whatever the fuck that was, with an empty glass resting between my legs and a bottle of whiskey in my hand. I’d given up some time ago on trying to pace myself. Some kind of synth-infused rock music vibrated across the floor, and I could feel the bass reverberating in my bones, which would normally make me want to get up and dance, but I wasn’t particularly in a celebratory mood; I was only halfway through my sophomore year, and had just dropped out.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen this coming. I had been spiraling for a long time. It all started over summer break between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college. I never even wanted to go to college in the first place. What was the point of spending tens of thousands of dollars on a creative writing degree when I could just freelance and eventually get published? But my father insisted that I at least attend a state school with cheaper tuition, claiming, “You can’t run on ink and espresso, son. You have to put in the work and have the credentials to show for it.” On the bright side, it was a miracle that Dad had enough confidence in me to allow me to pursue writing at all. But I was on thin ice with my father, had been for years, so I agreed to at least think about college.

My friends chose their respective schools fairly quickly; Dustin had gotten in with a full ride scholarship to Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Max and Lucas went to UCLA as sports science and physical therapy double majors, El went to Vanderbilt University in Nashville to pursue a degree in therapy, and Will… Will went to Chicago. Which school he went to, or if he went to college at all, I didn’t know. To study what, I had no clue. Where he lived within the city, I hadn’t the slightest idea. That’s what happens when your ex-best friend up and leaves without so much as a “goodbye.” I considered the day Will left to be the day my world stopped turning and time froze. So I took off my watch and hid it in a shoebox under my bed with the rest of my mini-shrine.

Dr. Owens and his team had arranged government-mandated counseling for all of those involved in the Vecnapocalypse. A year in, though, I didn’t see a point in going anymore. I was healed. I was fine. I was ready to move on with my life. Well, everyone else in the Party was ready to move on. Why wouldn’t I be? It probably hadn’t been the best decision on my part to stop going to therapy, but without Will in my life, I didn’t have much of a reason to stay in Hawkins at all, and I really didn’t feel like dredging up my past once a week to pick apart as if I were in an anatomy lab practical. Besides, I didn’t feel like arguing anymore with my dad. So, I begrudgingly packed my bags and headed to Indianapolis, killing two birds with one stone.

When I got to campus, I was assigned to dorm with this guy named Elvis (yes, as in Presley). Aside from his stupid ass name, Elvis Kuiken was a good roommate. He was a senior who kept to himself most days, when he wasn’t working. He was clean, at least by my standards (which were on the floor, literally and figuratively speaking), and he was also part of a fraternity. He’d always bring me along to parties, all in the name of the formative freshman experience. What this “experience” primarily entailed, I came to find out, was alcohol. Weed, too, no doubt… but extra emphasis on alcohol.

I didn’t want to admit it, at least not to others, but I became a lot more withdrawn since my falling out with Will. I wasn’t as outgoing, as daring, or as extroverted as I used to be. I was used to being an outcast of sorts, so not much changed there. Except now, where I used to have the confidence to at least approach people and introduce myself– “Hi, I’m Michael! Do you want to be my friend?” “Yes.”– I couldn’t do that anymore. It was like my communicational skills had completely disappeared. But during my first party, I took a shot of tequila and must’ve made at least ten acquaintances within the three hours I was there. If only Troy could see how popular I was now. He’d piss his pants… again. It was like a light flickered on in my head; the more I drank, the more sociable I’d become. I took this epiphany and ran with it.

One time back in— September?— or something, I had been at a party for a few hours, and came up with the idea to try every single type of liquor to ever exist. I picked up a shot glass and stood at the counter for a good fifteen minutes, downing shot after shot. I woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache, unsure of how I even got back to my dorm room. But then I looked to my right and saw Elvis’s head resting on my very shirtless, hickey-covered chest. Oh. That’s how I got home. I wasn’t able to wear any shirts with collars below my clavicle for days. I didn’t hate it, though. In fact, that wasn’t the last time my roommate and I hooked up. Stumbling through the door, making out in the dark, and whispering each other’s names into otherwise complete silence until the sun came up became a regular occurrence.

Christmas break arrived, and most of my time back in Hawkins was spent trying to avoid Will. And from the way I saw it, Will was everywhere. He was the art on my bedroom wall. He was the yellow sweater that hung in my closet, probably the only colorful item in my entire wardrobe that I hadn’t thrown out, because it was Will’s sweater. He was the shea butter soap on the bathroom counter. He was the hot cocoa mix in the kitchen cabinet. He was the D&D box buried underneath my bed that I neglected since Eddie’s death in 1986. He was the Party. So I didn’t leave my basement for the entirety of mid-December to the beginning of January, with the exceptions of family dinners and sleep. I won’t lie, I was a little bit ashamed of how I’d handled things with the Party. I definitely shouldn’t have iced everyone out. My friends made various attempts to get the Party back together, and always invited me, but I’d always have some kind of excuse as to why I couldn’t hang out with them. They eventually stopped calling.

One Saturday afternoon, I was sprawled out on the couch watching Star Wars: Episode VI– Return of the Jedi, and Nancy and Jonathan came barrelling in through the basement entrance, practically swallowing each other whole. I missed the feeling of being in love. I’d cleared my throat when it started to get a bit too steamy, causing the lovebirds to jump apart in shock. Nancy smoothed her skirt while Jonathan lifted a hand into the air to greet me. I nodded back in acknowledgement. This silent interaction had me wanting to crawl out of my skin. All I wanted to do was ask Jonathan about Will; how Will was, what Will was doing, if Will had met anyone, if Will remembered me. It was like Jonathan could read my mind, because he said, completely unprompted, “He still thinks about you, Mike. He hasn’t forgotten you.” I actively committed those words to memory.

I ran into Joyce during a last minute school supplies shopping trip to Melvald’s on my way out of town. It was bound to happen at some point, what with Joyce owning Melvald’s now. I’d expected it to be awkward, but was proven wrong when Joyce practically jumped the counter to engulf me, her honorary third son, in a hug. She’d pulled me all the way down to her level, so I was bent at almost a 90 degree angle, but I didn’t care.

“How’ve you been, sweetheart? How’s Indy treating you?” she asked. That was a loaded question. It would be spectacular if your son hadn’t left, but whatever.

“It’s treating me well, I’m mostly taking my gen eds right now, but I’m always writing my own material when I’m not in class,” I grinned, trying my best to not let it look fake or forced. Joyce seemed to buy it.

“I’m so glad to hear that. You know, I always knew you were going to become a writer,” Joyce smiled, and I nodded, staying as neutral as possible. I knew where she was going with this. “I remember it as if it were yesterday,” bingo, “that in the mornings after your sleepovers, you and Will would sit at the dining room table with your eggs and maple syrup and work on your comics for hours. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah,” I replied wistfully, “I do.” I glanced down at my shoes, trying not to let any tears escape. The amount of crying over Will that I’d done just within the time I was back home was pathetic. But Joyce didn’t seem to mind in the least, because she reached up and ran her thumbs over my cheeks, where a few stray tears had traveled down against my will.

“Oh, honey,” Joyce held my face in her hands, eyes filled with compassion, and pulled me into another hug, holding me close. I had always loved Joyce, but this mutual understanding led me to reserve a special place in my heart for her.

We engaged in a little more small talk before she personally walked (dragged) me through the store with my shopping list to retrieve the items I needed. When she checked out my items at the counter, she grabbed a pen and post-it note, wrote something on it, and handed it to me. I held it up to eye level with a shaky hand.

“That’s Will’s phone number, he’s at the American Academy of Art,” she whispered. My eyes widened, and I breathed, “Thank you, Ms. Byers. So much,” before heading out the door to my car. I sat in the parking lot for a solid fifteen minutes, causing myself to fall behind schedule, but I had Will’s phone number. That was a good enough reason to be late, in my book.

After what felt like a fucking eternity, I was finally able to return to campus. I’d set my suitcase down next to my bed, and took a minute to collect my thoughts prior to unpacking. All of a sudden, Elvis clumsily tripped over his own feet through the door, sheepishly grinning at me, having just been startled. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, followed by a quiet, “hi.” Seconds later, we were all over each other.

It was around this time that I finally came to terms with the undeniable fact that I was exclusively attracted to men. I’d always believed my sexual preferences existed as a strict ratio of 70:30, with 70% being women and 30% being men. I’d always been aware of my attraction to guys (Will); I’d been sure of that for as long as I could remember. The confusing part about it all was when El came into the picture, and everyone and their mother expected us to start dating. I was, like, twelve at the time, so of course I went along with what everyone else wanted. That backfired majorly when El confronted me with tears in her eyes, asking, “But… you don’t love me anymore?” and my impulse response was, “I don’t even think I loved you romantically to begin with.” It took a long time for me and El to repair our friendship following that conversation, and to help me bullshit my parents into falling for some half-baked reason as to why my “sweetie pie” and I broke up so suddenly.

When I started my… situationship with Elvis, though, I began to question my 70:30 ratio. Elvis, to put it simply, was hot. He was taller than me, just by an inch, but it didn’t stop him from calling me “short.” I found that hilarious, as I stood at a staggering six foot three. Elvis had tanned skin, blonde hair which he kept in a preppy side part, and bright eyes that captured the essence of the bluest sky. He had full lips, a chiseled jawline, and a lean yet muscular build with the likeness of a Greek statue. Elvis had the most gorgeous hands. I particularly liked when those hands pinned my wrists above my head. I also liked when those blue eyes bore into my soul in the way that only one other pair of eyes had ever been able to do within my mere eighteen years of life. And I loved when that chiseled jawline, rough from lack of shaving, rubbed abrasively against my neck.

Elvis was adamant on there being no strings attached. He made sure to remind me every time we did anything remotely sexual, but over time, those words began to lose their potency, like watering down vodka to make it go down smoother. My wide eyes and “yes, of course, I understand”s were slowly replaced with absentminded “mmhmm”s. I figured that as long as Elvis never picked up on my social cues (or lack thereof), and as long as he never knew about me secretly developing more-than-fuck-buddies feelings for him, I would be in the clear. But eventually, something in Elvis had melted away, and he started calling me “my boy,” “love,” and “sweetheart,” amongst other gross (sweet) pet names. I assumed that Elvis had caved and given up on whatever rules he’d set for himself.

Regardless of the apparent stability in our situationship, my mind dwelled in a constant state of disarray. I knew I was not straight. I wasn’t even sure if I was bisexual. I became more conscious of who caught my eye in public, and what I wanted out of the people I interacted with. I discovered I didn’t feel the same way about curves, boobs, or soft lips as I felt when I saw a pair of broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, or a tapered waistI felt different.

Part of me resented myself for being different. I hated the idea of being a target, whether it be for my family, the government, or society as a whole. I'd tried to change. I hooked up with a few girls over the course of a week, “just to see something,” but I'd spent the entire time wondering when it would be over so I could go home. All of those girls either got bored, weren’t satisfied, or got mad that I couldn’t get it up— if not a combination of all three— and left. I scared myself a little when I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty.

When my encounter with the last girl fell through, I decided I didn’t want to live my life in sexuality limbo anymore. I ran all the way back to my dorm hall, hauled ass up the stairwell, and let myself into my room. Elvis spun around from where he sat at his desk, and could barely get out a “Hey, man,” before I was ripping Elvis from his chair and pulling him in, kissing him with all my might. It didn’t take long for Elvis to reciprocate my advances, kissing back with equal intensity and pushing me back until we hit the side of Elvis’s raised bed frame. I huffed a laugh against Elvis’s lips before hoisting myself up backwards and onto the mattress, watching as Elvis chased after me. He pushed his knee between my legs, and I took the hint, wrapping my ankles around Elvis’s hips. “I want to be with you, baby. With strings, all the strings,” I had told Elvis before pulling him down for another searing kiss, and… that was when my memory cut out for the evening.

I woke up the next morning, hangover hitting me like a truck, to see Elvis already awake and dressed, lifting boxes onto a trolley that was stationed in the middle of the room. Through squinted eyes, I noticed Elvis’s side of the room was essentially bare, save for the dorm furniture, which belonged to the school.

“What’s happening?” I croaked out, and Elvis dropped the box he was holding onto the pile with a loud thump. “Too loud. Headache,” I whispered sharply through gritted teeth.

“It always is too loud, isn’t it?” my roommate laughed wryly to himself, not making any effort to be any quieter. I sat up, rubbing my eyes and ignoring the fact that I was naked and in Elvis’s bed, the only thing that hadn’t been packed up yet.

“What the fuck, Elvis? What are you doing?”

“I’m moving out today, remember?” The two young men finally gained eye contact, and I felt my stomach drop like I was on a roller coaster. “I’m graduating in a few days and need my stuff out by this afternoon.”

Move out was today? Vecna must have been back with a vengeance, because how else would time move so quickly on its own? Sure, Elvis mentioned in passing, like, a few weeks ago, at most, that he was leaving soon. But it still didn’t make sense, because it was only… What, March? No, The Phone Call™ was a while ago. Was it April? My mom called me at least a few weeks prior to wish me a happy nineteenth birthday. Plus, weren’t commencement ceremonies scheduled for the weekend of– “What’s today’s date?”

I watched the blonde in front of me unsubtly scoff with impatience. “It’s May 1st, Mike.” I could only blink back at Elvis in response for a few seconds while I tried to process the fact that my brain was capable of skipping over whole months of my life. There was no way it was May 1st already.

“No,” was the only word I was capable of saying.

“Yet here we are, baby,” Elvis sneered as he whipped his comforter off of me, leaving me exposed and humiliated. “Time flies when you’re blackout drunk. I suggest you try and get your drinking under control, before you end up having to drop out.”

It was like Elvis was a completely different person, completely different from the man who had fucked me senseless the night before. What did I do to deserve this? I didn’t do or… say anything? Oh no. Now I knew what was going on. I drank too much, opened up, and blurted out loud that I wanted to be in a relationship with Elvis, who didn’t feel the same. my face was on fire with embarrassment.

I scrambled off the bed and ran to get dressed while Elvis pulled the last of his sheets off the cheap university mattress. He didn’t fold them, and instead balled them up and shoved them in the trash. I could barely breathe. I merely stood there and watched as my gorgeous Greek (actually Dutch) god of a roommate left our shared room for the last time. Well, I seemingly dodged a bullet. What an asshole.

I was sad that Elvis was gone, but it didn’t completely destroy me the way Will leaving did. What it most likely came down to, in Elvis’s instance, was a horrible case of internalized homophobia. I was very familiar with this mindset; I'd fought a gory, gruesome battle with my own mind for my entire adolescence, at war with myself to prevent acting upon my ever-growing romantic love for Will. But one day, my feelings finally retaliated, and my life immediately went to shit.

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?”

“No, Will, I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”

Comparing the two inevitably led to some old memories resurfacing to haunt me, but I felt strangely lucky. I'd been let off easily. Despite the way I stood completely stupefied in my dorm room, I knew this was temporary, and had full confidence that I'd be able to recover from this pretty quickly. Said confidence was probably the only thing that saved me from losing my mind. Well, that, and the pressure to pass my classes distracted me for a few days. Without having done much studying at all, I army crawled through my finals and barely made it out alive.

About a week later, I moved out of my dorm hall and into an apartment about two miles away from campus. It was a pretty nice place, considering the rent he (my father) paid for it. I got a job at the local coffee shop… which I lost before the month was up, because he never showed up to my shifts. I'd been shocked when Ted insisted upon co-signing the lease, because I didn’t think my dad would be willing to help me stay away from Hawkins. On the other hand, though, it made sense when Ted told me flat out that he wanted me out of the house. I didn’t blame him; I'd been referred to by my father as a “leech” on multiple occasions during my stay over Christmas break, which pretty much tracked. I felt a little guilty about that one.

I appreciated the independence, I truly did. It was a great feeling to have my own room again, to have a more comfortable desk chair to sit at while I drew up plans for a new fantasy novel starring a gay protagonist, to have a bathroom to myself, and most importantly, to have a full-sized refrigerator to fill with all the alcohol I could ever want. But sometimes, late at night, I would catch myself getting a bit too sad.

The entire summer was an endless cycle. I would wake up and make a pot of coffee. I'd sit down and write a chapter or two of my book, and stick to doing that for a few hours. I would check the time (on my wall clock, of course) and take a lunch break, which was usually a box of Annie’s shells and white cheddar. After I'd haphazardly tossed my singular bowl and fork into the sink to be washed later, I'd go back to writing. This wouldn’t last long, because I'd get distracted after smoking a joint, and probably end up staring at that one photo of myself and Will from senior year (Jonathan captured the moment: I had, by some miracle, perched myself up on Will’s handlebars, and Will struggled to hold his bike steady because I was laughing too hard) that sat framed on my desk. I'd snap out of my trance ten minutes later and mentally kick myself for staring for so long, which led to grabbing some form of alcohol and getting wasted, like all my potential. I would make one last attempt at writing and fail miserably. I'd stumble into the shower, and drag myself through my apartment until I found my bed. Most nights, I would end up crying myself to sleep, staring at The Painting™, which I'd tacked up on my bedroom ceiling as a form of self-punishment. It was a sad way to live, really. So I vowed that when the school year started up again, things would be different.

That was how I ended up at the library in late July, browsing the mythology section, squinting at titles printed on spines while my lips formed a straight, thin line. I knew I was officially a hermit when even the library gave me social anxiety. I'd just pulled a rather old looking book off the shelf when a tenor voice behind me caught me off guard.

“Never thought I’d see the day that book would leave the shelf. You must’ve had to brush off, like, a hundred years’ worth of dust just to get to the cover.” I twisted around to put a face to a voice, and was pleasantly surprised when I met eyes with a short guy (well, to me he was short; he was probably, like, 5’9”) with dyed, firetruck red hair that fell over his forehead in a sweeping motion. I liked how he wasn’t afraid to be bold.

“You’re definitely right about that,” I smirked, setting the book down and watching as the growing pile teetered from side to side on the table’s surface. I couldn’t decide where I wanted my story to go next, let alone if I wanted to continue with my current plot at all, so I'd planned on taking a bit of inspiration from… well, everything.

“So you’re into mythology?” the guy asked, and I shoved my hands in my pockets, leaning against the bookshelf as I focused my gaze down. He had pretty eyes. They were hazel, but not too green, not like–

“Yeah, I’m a creative writing major, and I’m trying to expand my horizons a little,” I replied, sitting down at the table. “Like, not to discount the genius of Tolkein, because he literally founded my childhood, but sometimes it’s good to go back to the basics and draw inspiration from there.”

The guy shrugged, and sat across the table from me. “Nothing wrong with that. I think it’s really smart, actually. Or else stories end up getting repetitive and dull.”

“Exactly!” I pointed both index fingers in the guy’s direction, as if to say, “Finally, someone who understands!” I struggled with this concept lately; the uniqueness factor. It turned out that having a male protagonist who just so happened to be romantically attracted to other males wasn’t enough reason to get a book to sell. I needed something else, something of substance, and something that wouldn’t remind readers of other books they’d previously read. “Are you into writing as well?”

“No,” the guy shyly smiled, “I’m just into guys who write about mythology.” Pardon? Was this masculine male-dude-man hitting on me? In public? I wasn’t complaining, but I hadn’t necessarily picked up on any hints. Although, the dyed hair should’ve been a dead giveaway.

“Oh. Um, I– wow, okay,” I stuttered, diverting my eyes to my books for a few seconds to process what was being said before returning to an expectant pair of hazel eyes still looking right at me. “I’m Mike, Mike Wheeler.”

“Wyatt Bowman.”

I cleared my throat. “Are you free in an hour, Wyatt?”

“Yeah, why?” Wyatt raised an eyebrow, causing me to huff a nervous laugh, tapping my Ticonderoga pencil against my spiral-bound notebook at the same speed my knee bounced up and down underneath the table.

“I just gotta take some notes from here, then I was thinking we could… hang out, or something?” I glanced up hopefully at Wyatt.

The corners of Wyatt’s mouth curved upwards as he repeated, “Or something?”

I nodded, confirming our silent sub-conversation.

“Cool. That sounds like a good plan,” Wyatt said, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table as he rose out of the seat and headed for the exit.

“Cool,” I whispered back, reminiscent of a certain afternoon in a certain town in California in a certain room with a certain boy that made me feel a certain way. But that was the past, and I believed I was ready for the future.

When I started seeing Wyatt Bowman, we’d established that our relationship would not be serious. We were, in a small amount of words, friends with benefits. And we were actually friends. We could hang out without getting all hot and heavy. And I didn’t have any objections; I actually preferred the idea of friends who sometimes had sex over the label-less, no strings arrangement that Elvis and I had. It left less room for loopholes of chronic insecurity and self sabotage. It also, in turn, left more room for exploration.

I met Wes Butler in August at my first ever visit to an actual bar. I'd been sitting at the counter with a few of my female friends (Ruby, Alexis, and Julia), and had just received one of the fruitiest cocktails I'd ever tasted when a piece of eye candy, who might as well have been dressed in nothing, lightly tapped my shoulder and asked me to dance. Of course the girls encouraged me, not really giving me an option in the matter, but hey, good dick was good dick. It didn’t really turn into much else; once we’d had a few rounds of unnecessarily loud sex in a supply closet (ironic, but typical), I bid goodbye to my friends, tossing my condom wrappers in the trash on the way out.

I met another guy, Walker Brooks, in September at an off-campus nerd rave. He looked a lot like Eddie Munson, which may or may not have been coincidental. We left the party not even an hour after it began to go to Walker’s dorm. We fucked in between Lord of the Rings themed bedsheets, and I had to endure an excruciating hour and a half of Walker speaking Elvish rather than English. Afterwards, he invited me to join the University of Indy D&D Club, of which he was, of course, the Dungeon Master. I politely declined.

On a particularly difficult October night following being roofied followed by some unwanted advances, I slapped myself awake with one hand as I unsteadily held my handlebars with the other, biking back to my apartment. My grip slipped, and the front wheel hit the curb, which sent the bike to come to a screeching halt and throw me over the handlebars, tumbling onto the concrete. Warren Blakely, one of my classmates in English 101, watched me fall, stopped me from biking again before I hurt myself even more, and asked me what exactly had happened. Once I told Warren what had gone down, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. Over the next two months or so, Warren kept me safe and let me take control back over my own life. Warren and I had a special bond. If I didn’t still love Will, and if I didn’t have such extreme trust issues, I would have absolutely dated Warren if provided the chance. But I couldn’t, not until I got over Will, so I ended things with Warren. This specific relationship put things into perspective for me. In the end, none of these men I slept with would ever be Will Byers. So I'd either have to get over Will, or find someone better.

On the nights I wasn’t at parties, I was at my desk, writing letters to Will. It was kind of cathartic, honestly. I'd rip a piece of college ruled paper out of my notebook, just like old times, and write letter after letter saying things along the lines of:

Dear Will, I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry that I love you. I’m sorry I did what I did to you. And I’m sorry I can’t take it back. I wish we could be best friends again. I wish we could have late night walkie conversations like we used to. I want nothing more than to play D&D in the basement with you for the rest of our lives. Love, Mike

These occasional letters became a part of my nightly routine… whenever I wasn’t too fucked up to focus my eyes on my own handwriting. And recently, it was more often than not that I couldn’t actually fall asleep without drinking. I wasn’t even of legal age yet, and wouldn’t be for another two years.

I stopped attending my classes halfway through the semester, so it wasn’t a surprise when my grades plummeted. My mailbox became inundated with letters from the registrar’s office, advising me to withdraw from the classes I was failing before the pass/fail deadline, but I couldn’t care less; so, not only did I fail out of my classes, but I couldn’t even retake the classes even if I wanted to, because my record forced me into the red zone. And the entire time, I couldn’t feel a thing.

If someone were to ask me what time it was, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. First off, I would look down at my watch and realize that said watch was not on my wrist. I would then ask myself why my watch was not on my wrist, then I would remember, oh yeah, Will has a matching one, and I was dead to Will, so I didn’t wear the watch anymore. Time was just a construct, anyway. In the end, I'd probably mess around with the person asking and say some shit like, “It’s 420:69.” I was drunk, though, so I was allowed.

I was at some frat party, spending what was my last official night as a student at the University of Indianapolis with the brotherhood of Alpha Lambda Dickhole. I was seated on some musty couch, stained with whatever the fuck that was, with an empty glass resting between my legs and a bottle of whiskey in my hand. I'd given up some time ago on trying to pace myself. Some kind of synth-infused rock music vibrated across the floor, and I could feel the bass reverberating in my bones, which would normally make me want to get up and dance, but I wasn’t particularly in a celebratory mood; I was only halfway through my sophomore year, and had just dropped out.

“Hey, by any chance do you know the time?” a deep voice asked, and I lifted my gaze up from my lap to a muscular brunette. I blinked a few times in an attempt to form a coherent sentence.

“I, uh– I don’t—” I stuttered, lifting my bare, watch-less wrist up to show to the guy, who merely lifted an unserious eyebrow and chuckled. He took my hand in his and let it down gently before sitting next to me on the couch.

“It’s all good, man. I was just using that as a reason to talk to you.”

I was surprised someone clocked me that quickly. But then again, I was wearing insanely tight jeans that I'd cut right above the knee paired with a floral print shirt. I wasn’t exactly being subtle. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” the guy laughed, extending a rough, calloused hand. Did he lift weights? Or play guitar? Or both? “I’m Carter, by the way.” At least his name didn’t begin with a W. Or maybe it did, but the W was silent. Wcarter. Ouah-carter. Wah-carter. Double-you-carter. Dub-yuh-Carter. Cart… Chart… Astrological chart. I made a mental note to check my horoscope. What was I thinking about originally? I couldn’t remember.

Jesus. I was hammered.

“I’m Mike,” I replied, taking the guy’s— Carter’s— hand, but Carter didn’t shake it. He instead let our fingers intertwine, anticipatorily slow. Okay. I could be good with this.

“Do you maybe want to get out of here, Mike?” Carter asked, and I felt a blush rising to my face.

“Sure, yeah,” I breathed, and let Carter pull me up out of my sunken spot on the couch, down some hallway, and into an empty bedroom. I scoped out the place and noticed a photo of Carter with a dog framed on the desk; this was his room. I exhaled in relief. I didn’t want to have sex in someone else’s bed. Never again.

Carter pulled the door closed and locked it, turning around to face me before looking me up and down. I gulped. I hadn’t realized before, because it was so dark, but in the lamplight, Carter’s resemblance to Will was uncanny. He was a few inches shorter than me, and had a muscular build– that much I knew already. Thank god he didn’t have a bowl cut. He had a strong jawline but a subtle softness to his features. His lips were a light pink, the upper one a bit thinner than the lower one. The most similar feature they shared, though, was their bright green eyes, full of life, and something else I couldn’t name… intention? Vulnerability? Yearning?

In my inebriated state, I didn’t notice how close Carter had gotten until I felt two hands snaking their way up my shoulders and joining behind my neck, pulling me down until our lips met. I couldn’t move fast enough, lifting my shaking hands to rest on Carter’s waist, pulling him into my chest and deepening the kiss immediately. Carter was more languid in his movements, while I was more firm and calculated; this felt strangely antithetical. It probably had to do something with my increased tolerance. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, but if there was one person who knew how to repress their feelings with a series of bad decisions, it was me. Mike Wheeler. My life was already on fire, what more could possibly happen to exacerbate the flame?

The two of us made our way over to Carter’s bed, where we quickly undressed. Carter kissed down my body, and I ran my hands through Carter’s hair. Then he went down on me without warning.

“Ah!” I yelped in surprise, my exclamation becoming a moan almost instantaneously. This was good. This felt nice. This is exactly what I’d imagine–

“Will…”

“Excuse me?”

And with that, the night was over. Carter stopped what he was doing, got up, muttered a “fuck you,” and left without another word. I felt the world zeroing in on me. I could just picture what I’d write in my next letter:

Dear Will,

I said your name while another guy had my dick in his mouth. Do you believe me now?

Love, Mike

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