#I think this is the one time I really like the inspiration and use it for most of the things | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

featherandferns · 3 days ago

Text

like him (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | inspired from this scene and this scene, this request/message, and this incredible, heartbreaking song

content warning: anxiety and panic; mild v!olence; non-specific references to child abus3

word count: 6.6k. (not yet proofread so apologies for spelling/grammar errors)

blurb: at the town meeting for the Maybank property, everything that's happened to JJ in the past forty-eight hours comes to a head. In his internal turmoil, you're the only guiding light back to safety.

Energy can’t be destroyed. JJ wasn’t much of a smart ass at school but he managed to understand that much. He remembers the lesson for some reason: maybe it was the muggy classroom, the hottest day of summer, or maybe it was because he was sat next to you and nearly every memory that has you in it is etched into his brain with permanent marker. But JJ remembers physics class enough to recall that law. Newton’s, was it? Who knows.

Energy can neither be created or destroyed - only converted from one form of energy to another.

Maybe JJ understood that law so well because he’d seen it play out more times than he could count. Practical things like that always had a way of welding themselves into JJ’s intelligence; he was better at hands-on learning. He’d seen it in the ocean, riding on waves, journeying from the power of the currents. He’d seen it when fixing up cars, when fishing on the docks, when lighting up a bonfire. But the time he remembers best is when you burnt yourself.

It was a silly thing, really. You’d been craving mac and cheese and had tried to fix a pan of it up. You’d used the wrong type of lid and placed it overtop of a near to overflowing pan of water. The bubbles pushed and prodded at the glass and the steam simmered up and up. Always one to talk, you weren’t much paying attention. You were leaning on the counter, a hand beside the stove, and gazing up at JJ like he was something special. He wasn’t sure why you looked at him like that, all he knew was that he never wanted it to go away. JJ can recall the moment that the lid of the pan came tumbling off. Water overflowed from the lip and trickled down the sides. The bubbles popped and splashed and a hefty droplet of water landed perfectly on the back of your hand. Your eyes were pink from the tears as JJ held your hand under running water, trying to sooth the burn, ease the injury before it could worsen. His lips had pressed to your forehead in a tender way that he always wished his dad would kiss his after a fall or a scrape. Your voice was stuffy and thick when you cursed water and pans and, sadly, mac and cheese.

Glancing to his left, he spots the faint scar on your hand that remained from the incident over a year ago. It’s a distraction from the legal babble that fills the city hall. His eyes trace the curve of your arm, following it like roads on a map, guiding him to your shoulders and your collarbones and your neck and your face. The jut of your chin and the slope of your nose; the shining of your eyes in the bright light as you stare intently ahead at whatever was unfolding. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to hear. Your lips are being brutalised; gnawed on anxiously as you track the conversation between lawyers and councilmen. You were always the clever one. JJ would have you explain things to him in physics knowing damn well that he barely understood. It was an excuse to hear your voice and to make you laugh when he made crude jokes. “Kinetic energy, huh? Think I know a thing or two about that.” Maybe, if there were different circumstances, he’d have you translate the jargon being tossed around in the room to him. Put it into layman’s terms, spell it out in the way only you could that avoided being condescending. Only caring.

But JJ can hardly hear over the sound of his own ringing ears. He can hardly think over the buzzing of his thoughts as if his mind had been infested with cicadas. He can hardly breathe through the thick, musty air of the room. His throat feels tight like he’s having an allergic reaction. His heart is aching and pounding all at once in that awful, annoying way it likes to do when things feel like they’re out of control. And, boy, did things feel like they were out of control.

You wince as your teeth pull on a loose piece of skin of your lower lip. It draws blood. Not much, enough to be gone in a swipe of your tongue. JJ remembers his previous line of thoughts. How natural for his mind’s path to be derailed by you.

Energy. The pan. The pressure. JJ felt pressure. He felt like that pan. Inside of him, it was building. The bubbles and the steam, pushing its ways up, churning through his stomach, pressing against his chest, fighting up his throat. It was invading his head. Shrinking his thoughts, clouding his mind, blurring his vision. It was squeezing him, suffocating him. He’d been on the heat for too long. Too many things, not enough time. Too many thoughts. Too many curveballs. If this was a baseball game, it would have had people’s heads spinning. JJ’s head was spinning. There was too much, too little, too big. He didn’t like big. No, he liked small. He liked simple. He liked the house and the garden and the shop and you. He liked his life. But it wasn’t his life. Nothing was his life now. It was building - the pressure. Building and building and building and–

–And any second now, he was going to explode.

Lid on the stove. Water over the edges. Burn on the hand.

Your hand is on his leg. You’re looking at him. It takes him a moment to register. He feels miles away from his body. Eyes slanted with concern, you’re frowning at him.

“Are you okay?” you whisper. Never condescending; only caring. JJ gives a stiff nod and, purely because he can’t stand to see you look at him like that, like he’s something good, he turn his attention back to the front of the room.

“We are scheduled to hear from some of the members of the community,” boldly-locks in the glasses announces into the microphone. “Beginning with a representative from the occupants of the Roger’s Point property, which used to be the Maybank property.”

It’s funny how Maybank has been JJ’s last name his whole life, but hearing it this time, out loud, it doesn’t feel like he knows it anymore. He props an arm up on the stall’s edge, running his fingers over his lips. A representative, huh?

“Anybody feeling brave?” Kiara asks in a hushed tone.

Energy. JJ’s pushing up onto his feet. “I am. I got this.”

Your hand latches onto his arm before he’s fully risen.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” John B murmurs in alarm. JJ looks down at John B, then at you. You’re half-apologetic as you shake your head ‘no’.

“Sit down, okay?” Pope demands in a hiss.

“Not me, then. All right.”

When JJ reunites with the seat, it feels as though the pressure doubles. Your hand reaches for his; fingers intertwined with his. JJ lets your hold linger for a second, enough for you to know he isn’t angry at you, and then he lets you go. He’s too fidgety. Too clammy. Too much, too fast, too little time. You whisper with the others as you try and decide on a voice for the group and, soon enough, John B is volunteered forward. As he stands, JJ claps proudly. That’s his brother.

“Please state your name for the record.”

“I am John Booker Routledge.”

“Damn right,” JJ affirms. In his peripheral vision, he sees you nodding. Susciently, soundly, somewhat calmly, John B fights the Pogue’s corner. He asks the questions that all of you had been asking since this new curveball was fired. JJ felt like he used to be good at dodging things. His dad’s bunches; homework and detentions at school; juvenile and prison and consequence. But now, here, in this room, things are feeling less manageable. Things are feeling more real.

The lid. The stove. The pressure, building.

“Myself and Sarah…We both lost our fathers last year…”

JJ’s eyes squeeze shut. Like whiplash, images flash through his mind. Pictures. Words. ‘I’m not your real dad’. Something that feels like bile creeps up his throat but he forces it down. Your hand reaches out and clenches his knee reassuringly. Pressure. Energy. JJ’s foot taps anxiously against the tiled floor of the building. It’s building.

A kook stands up. Not any Kook. The kook. The prison master in this sick, twisted game that Figure Eight was playing with JJ’s life. He’s perfectly presentable in his black suit, grey hair combed without a single strand out of place, glasses perched innocently on his lightly wrinkled face as if he was destined to age like a fine wine. It’s easy to do that when you don’t know stress. When you don’t know fear.

“Excuse me. May I speak?” he oh-so-politely asks.

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you, Mayor. There seems to be a misunderstanding. Okay? And I think I can clarify.”

“Oh my God,” JJ mutters.

“What an asshole,” you murmur.

With John B’s permission, Mr Zeasy shuffles him out of place and takes over. He talks as though he was born on a soapbox, preaching down the sinners of The Cut, sneering at their poverty, scoffing at their struggle.

“So what the, uh, current occupants of the land don’t seem to understand is that there is an injunction to invalidate the most recent sale.”

JJ’s brows furrow. You shake your head.

“Wh–What does that mean? JJ, what does he mean?” you mumble, glancing at him.

“There was a pre-existing promissory note from the original owner that was in the process of benign finalised when the land auction took place.”

“What the fuck?” you whisper harshly. “Is that even legal? How is that legal?”

JJ can’t move. He can’t breathe. He can’t speak.

Stove. Pan. Lid. Water. Pressure.

“The bank wasn’t legally allowed to go to auction.”

“Bullshit,” JJ mutters. All of it. Everything. Everything was bullshit.

“We have a promissory note right here from the original owner, signed before the auction, and finalised by Judge Holden.”

The applause that follows the announcement feels like a thousand pinpricks into JJ’s eyes.

“That means our sale was invalid,” Pope tells Sarah.

The buzzing is back in JJ’s head. It’s louder now. Deafening. Overwhelming. He has to fight to hear the discourse occurring at the front of the room. His chest feels tight. His throat is closing up. His lungs can’t take in air. They’re shrinking. It’s too little, too much, not enough. Building. Building.

“And where is the original owner and can he validate the authenticity of this document?”

“Yes, he can. He’s right here.”

Mr Zeasy gestures down the aisle. JJ can’t bring himself to move. He’s stuck in place. Until he isn’t, and he’s turning, looking over his shoulder as the room heckles and hollers. There he is. Sitting then standing, taking off some dusty cap. He lingers like a fucking idiot. JJ’s vision blurs. Stove. Pan. Water. Tears. Pressure. Building.

Everything else fades away as Luke locks eyes with JJ. It’s hard to believe there’s any sincerity when he speaks.

“I’m sorry, J.”

It’s hilarious, actually. Everything that’s happened in the past forty-eight hours: what was he sorry for this time? Scratch that, not the past forty-eight hours. His whole life. His whole miserable, bitter existence. His life spent in poverty and in fear and in self-deprecating shadows. Because of Luke. Because of a man who might not even be his father. So, tell me dad, what are you sorry for this time?

JJ can’t take another moment staring at him. He turns back towards the front, bowing his head. His eyes are downcast to the floor. His shoes are dirty. They always are. You always offer to clean them for him but he never accepts. There’s no point, he’d say. JJ was never good at keeping clean.

“Isn’t it obvious? He signs the promissory note and in exchange, he gets amnesty.”

JJ’s jaw clicks. The townspeople are in uproar, hollering out, yelling for justice, frowning upon the inequality of the island. You’re on your feet too. Tossing your arm, yelling out in anger, the pain thick in your voice. Somewhere behind him, somewhere amongst the chaos, is the man JJ thought was his future. The man he thought he was destined to grow into. Why wouldn’t he? They look the same, talk the same, act the same. The hair, the mannerisms, the self-righteousness, the selfishness, the idiocy, the blinding, brimming anger that was always right there on the surface. The man who was JJ’s sign for a deadend - a deadend he was bound to find himself at too, with time. The man who pulled the rug out beneath him merely moments ago.

His head is buzzing. His chest is tight. His throat is dry. His heart is racing. His foot is tapping. His jaw is clenching. His rage is boiling. The pressure, building, building, building. Stove. Pan. Tears. Burn. Too much, too little, too fast. The buzzing is loud, deafening, like a migraine on steroids, and he can’t find a thought, can’t find anything to ground him. You’re not there. There’s no thought of you to invade in and to bring him peace.

It’s building, it’s building, it’s building.

Stove. Pan. Lid. Pressure.

Energy.

It feels like a dream when he pushes onto his feet. His body screams out for relief, for satisfaction, for something. The world lags around him, time dragging like molasses, and JJ feels as though he moves in slow motion as he walks down the aisle of the hall. In the blurring of his vision, there is a clear point of focus, like a road illuminated by headlights in the pitch black of night. Luke comes into view. His father. His dad. His abuser. JJ breezes past him. Makes a right.

Energy can’t be created or destroyed.

His hands grab onto a stray chair. His knuckles whitening with his tight grip on the wooden arms. It feels light as paper when he lifts it from the floor.

Energy can only be transferred.

The glass shatters in a beautiful array of shards as the chair pummels through the window. Daylight floods the room. A breeze brushes over his face as if saying thanks. The fresh air is a relief.

JJ can finally begin to breathe again.

An arm hooks around his neck and JJ’s flailing and throwing himself into action. He grunts and fights and elbows until the grip finally loosens. Another cop is approaching in the pin-point vision and JJ hurls his legs out, leaning back against his aggressor, and kicks the man away. An arm comes loose and JJ uses it to grab at the cop, and then he’s lurching himself forward, tossing the cop over him and onto the floor. Energy. He is full of energy. The first punch lands square on his cheek. The second just skims his jaw. His uniform is scratchy in JJ’s grasp as he holds his down. The man’s face is indistinguishable in the mist of his messy head. It’s Luke. It’s Groff. It’s Mr Zeasy.

The pain of the nightstick is numb when it collides with his back. JJ stumbles forward, grunting. He staggers up onto his feet, disorientated, confused. His vision becomes to sharpen and the room comes back into sight. It’s a cop on the floor. A bloody, bleeding cop.

Oh fuck.

Oh, fuck.

He wobbles back a few steps as his mind tries to catch up with the moment.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Your hands grab at the lapels of his jacket. Your face is almost unrecognisable from the panic. But JJ can hear your voice loud and clear as you yell at him.

“Go! Get out of here! Go!”

You give him a push. Energy.

A cop is coming at him, fast. JJ runs out of the room, through the doors, and he grunts as the officer makes a grab for him near the main exit. The two fly out onto the porch and down the stairs. The pain is lessened from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s pure survival instincts as he feels cops surround him, grabbing at him body, holding at his limbs, pushing him against a cop car’s bonnet. The metal is cool against the boiling hot skin of his face. He manages to wrangle an arm free and rams it into the cops face. He imagines it’s Luke’s. The hold on his other arm loosens and he manages to break free, wrestling against the forces.

“Get off me! Get off me, man!”

He’s shoved into the back of a cop car, head first. He grunts as he collides with soft cushions of the seats. But then there’s people at the window, slamming at the glass, yelling at him. No, no this is bad. This is really fucking bad. This is worse than the time JJ spilt wine on your favourite dress. It’s worse than when he accidentally hurt you whilst fooling around. It’s worse than when he thought you’d drowned on t he boat. It’s worse than when you burnt your hand at the stove. JJ looks around frantically but he’s surrounded by people. Everywhere.

What the fuck is going on?

It’s a reflex when he shields his face from the glass of the back window. Squinting, he sees a trainered foot kicking through it. He recognises those trainers. It’s you.

“Back up! Back up!” he yells out the window. It’s you. Pope’s by your side. JJ kicks out his leg and knocks out more glass, clearing a space. You’re there with the others, grabbing at his arms, trying to pull him out as he wriggles his way through the clearing, over the seats. His legs feel like jelly when he gets to his feet.

He stares blankly at John B and Pope, staggering backwards as they drive him away. Then you’re pushing through the two of them, grabbing at his face, simultaneously encouraging him away from you.

“Go! Run, JJ! Go!” you shout.

Never condescending; only caring.

JJ nods.

Energy.

JJ starts to run.

His feet pound rhythmically on the concrete. It’s endless, the energy pounding in his body. He could never be exhausted. For the first time in what feels like his whole life, JJ feels free. And as JJ runs through the abandoned streets of Kildare County, he feels like he’s chasing down the ghost of his father.

Who is he?

JJ had always thought he knew that answer. JJ Maybank: delinquent, future tax-evader, loyal friend, son of a lowlife. A Pogue. A grifter, a grinder. Despite all his ailments in his life, he had never needed to question where he came from. It was plain as day, clear as light, who JJ was. Who his father was. Who JJ would wind up being. Luke had told him so, with every hit he landed on his puppy-fat cheeks, with every slap swiping across his youthful face. Any blood drawn came with the assertion that this was what he deserved. This was who he was. A good for nothin’, low-life just like his father. A waste of space. A high school dropout.

He turns onto a side road and realises he’s heading for Main Street. It’s weird, seeing the town so hollow, nothing but a shell of its buildings. It unsettles him further. He could never run out of energy. JJ keeps running. In the distance, that figment never becomes clearer, never becomes closer. But he follows it anyway.

Luke looked like JJ. The blonde hair, now faded into shades of grey. The lips and the nose and the eyes. It was more than that; it was the temperament too. The frustration and the short fuse, passed down through genetics like an Olympic torch. At least, he thought. So, what did that mean? It was never inherited? Was JJ just fucked up from the start? What was that theory you were trying to teach him about - back when he had tried to win your affection, offering up study dates to help try and pick up his grades. Any excuse to be in your orbit. It’s nature versus nurture, JJ, you’d said, smiling sweetly. Your fingernails were rounded and painted pink, chipping at the tips, as you point at the diagrams. But JJ was watching you, he wasn’t paying much mind to the image. Look! Come on, you have to focus! He’d said something then, something to make you laugh, something that had you all flustered and blushing and him smirking. But then he’d looked. He’d listened. Some traits can be inherited from genes - nature - but some come from upbringing and environment - nurture.

Was that what this was? Nurture? Had all the years spent wrapped up in the daily missteppings of his father moulded JJ into some tormented, tainted failure. Had his soul been pure before and his future been clean and bright, and Luke had used his grubby hands to reshape it into something ugly as if JJ was nothing more than a scrap piece of clay. A scrap that could be thrown away.

He was thrown away, though. Wasn’t he? Groff didn’t want him. Groff didn’t care for him, not like Luke did. He didn’t feed him, didn’t bathe him, didn’t teach him how to fish, how to ride a bike, how to roll a cigarette. He didn’t care for him. He wasn’t a father. But Luke wasn’t either.

Luke wasn’t his father but he hit him like there was the same amount of honour ladened into every punch.

What did Groff look like? JJ can hardly picture his face in the dimming brightness of the streets. The streetlamps were coming on now. The hours were ticking away. Nobody around, time seemed to stand still. His steps ease up just slightly. He isn’t tired though. He just needs to concentrate more on what Groff looked like. But he can’t seem to formulate the picture in his mind. It’s blurs and snippets of shapes and colours. Blonde and white and shifty. Rich. Kook. No, fuck that, JJ wasn’t any Kook. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. But still, for some reason, JJ finds himself obsessed.

Do I look like him?

Somewhere in the midst, JJ swiped a baseball bat. The whole journey is a daydream. A fever dream, really. It doesn't make sense. There’s no chronological order to it; just flashes of moments like a busted old film reel. You’re the star. You always were in JJ’s life. The brightness, untouched and untarnished, beaming bright on him. The thing he wished on and the thing he planned his life around. He can remember the break in your voice as you yell at him to run. He should run. JJ keeps running.

Something makes him stop. Crickets chirp. He’s panting but not nearly as much as he should be, right? Why isn’t he tired? You’d know. You know everything - maybe even more than Pope. Sirens wail in the distance like a warning. They’re coming. He pushes those thoughts away to the back of his mind. He tries to push that other thought away too, but it won’t budge. Instead, it stands front and centre like the banquet of a movie theatre. Do I look like him?

JJ realises he’s staring at the window of a shop. A jewellery shop. The lights are on because these Kooks can afford to keep the electricity running after hours. They’d never understand what it’s like to go without. To feel so hungry you think your stomach might start to digest itself. JJ knows that feeling - knows it well. JJ isn’t a Kook. A smile presses onto his face. It feels like breathing.

Energy.

He yields the bat and takes a swing. Bam! The glass shatters musically. It’s so beautiful the way it cracks and splinters. He swings the bat, licking at his lips, and saunters along the pavement. The alarm is like an accompaniment to his symphony of vandalism. The door’s window break is a little tougher; JJ grunts. Glancing inside, his eyes latch onto one of the displays. The silver ring glints temptingly in the fluorescents like it’s from Lord of the Rings. You flash through his mind. The images of you that he saved in that corner he hardly liked to go in, too scared of the world in which it might not come true. Images of you and him, married, happy, you round-bellied, a house and a dog and a life with him. With a nobody like him because JJ was not a Kook.

But, do I look like him?

He’s delicate as he removes it from the mannequins hand. He studies it closer and feels settled on his choice. This’ll look good on your hand. You deserve nice things.

“Thank you,” he says, pocketing it. JJ staggers back onto the road. His eyes glance down the empty street and he’s relieved to find the ghost has faded away. Sirens whir like a doomsday call.

“Oh, here they come,” he grins. “Okay. So, y’all wanted one island, huh?”

He approaches a car. He’s never owned a car. Never been gifted one for his eighteenth; never thought that he’d manage to afford anything nice, either. Just a banged-up, second-hander. That’s the life of a Pogue. JJ wasn’t a Kook.

“I’ll give you it,” he grunt, hurling his bat at the vehicle. “Over here, fellas! Y’all wouldn’t want to miss the game.”

Every hit he takes feels like a stone lifted off his shoulders.

The fuse box causes a magnificent explosion, akin to a supernova on earth, and JJ flinches as sparks crackle out. Energy can’t be destroyed. Rooky error.

“Let’s play ball.”

The trashcan clatters as if falls to the floor. Trash spews out onto the street. JJ digs about in his pocket, muttering, and procures his lighter. It’s the one you got him for his sixteenth. The flame flickers.

“Let’s really light it up.”

The fire catches quick. He remembers that from when the chateau burnt down. There’s fun in the chaos, JJ finds, singing under breath and taking swings at windows and doors like they’re nothing more than targets on a fairground game. Every splint of glass is like resolution for JJ. Every hit is like catharsis.

“Oh, that felt good.”

The mannequins are undeterred by his violence. It reminds him of you. You never once budged whenever he’d spiral. Would you budge now, after this?

“Where are my manners?” JJ wonders jovially. His hand cups at the plastic dolls and he guides his lips down to the back of it. The same hand that you had the burn on. His teasing continues on with every toss of the bat. His eyes glance over the male mannequin. The blonde wig and the uppity suit. Did Groff wear suits? What was he wearing when JJ met him?

Do I look like him?

He doesn’t want to think about that right now. No, no, he can’t. It’s too little, too much, too fast. He was just starting to feel in control again. He grabs for the bar stool and builds up some power before tossing it through the window a cafe. Energy. JJ is pure energy. He’s chaos reincarnated. Babylon humanified.

He admires his work like an emperor surveying his kingdom. Just how he imagined the Kooks to do so once they capture his land, his home, his life.

But was it ever his? What is his life, if more than half of it is a lie? What does that amount to then? What does that leave? What’s left of him if he doesn’t have himself - his identity?

Who is he?

JJ takes off running again. This time, he feels like he’s being chased. The figment, the ghost, whoever the hell it is, is behind him now. Haunting him. Hasn’t he always felt haunted? By his mother, by his father. By his future. JJ runs faster. The sirens are like lines of cocaine, propelling his legs ahead. He glacnes frantically left and right and takes a sudden turn.

The streetlamps cast the streets in an eerie orange glow. The trees look like figures looming by the roadside. The houses and buildings lights are mostly off. Dogs bark, sirens echo. A sign comes into sight as if he was guided to it by some divine force. Zeast Realtors. JJ smiles knowingly at his new best friend.

“Light her up.”

The stairs don’t creak as he makes his way up the building. His stairs always creaked. They were rotten. Mice lived under his house as a kid. His family house that no longer holds any significance in his life, just the way his name doesn’t. JJ is without a name.

The alarm fires off the moment the glass shatters on the door. It’s embarrassingly easy to get inside. Within the office are plans laid out like a villainous layer. Plots and plans for:

“A new figure Eight.”

JJ loses it. Whatever remaining grasp of control he had on his inhibition is wiped away like his childhood. Glasses and picture frames and ornaments and business cards: nothing is safe from his bat.

“What’s fair is fair! Huh?”

But it isn’t helping like it was before. He doesn’t feel lighter. He feels like he’s sinking, down and down. Why isn’t it helping? JJ batters more things, hoping for it to change, hoping for everything to change. He wants to wake up now. He wants to wake up in his bed, beside you, and have you hold him and kiss him and ask him about what had him moving so much in the night. He wants you to make a joke on how it was keeping you up. He wants his life back.

A framed photograph of Mr Zeasy sits pretty on the mantle. JJ studies it for a moment. Scans over the pressed suit and the quiffed hair and the stagnant smile. The falseness that lies in the act of being proper. His reflection catches in the light. JJ’s face twists in disgust.

“No way am I a kook.”

The sirens are suddenly very loud. Shit. JJ ducks down out of sight from the windows. His back presses tightly against the cabinets. It grounds him. Shit. His head hangs and his lips purse and his mind reels. This is it. Luke was right. He was a lowlife, a delinquent, a failure. He’ll spend his life in prison. Fuck, he can’t think of how many charges he’s racked up by now. It might be a new record. Maybe for ocne his dad would be proud of him. That’s all he ever wanted.

“This is what I was talking about, son!” Shoupe hollers out.

Son. Son to who?

Who is he?

“You’ve gone too far and we’ve got a serious situation.”

He isn’t Luke.

“I told you this shit would happen and here we are.”

He isn’t Groff.

“I need you to put down any and all weapons you may have, or you will get shot.”

JJ rises to his feet.

“I don’t want that, so just come on out with your hands up.”

He isn’t anybody, anymore.

“JJ, listens up, son-”

“No, you listen up Shoupe!” JJ hollers. “I’m not just gonna come out there so you can take what's ours and let them win again. It was ours, fair and square. So I have a right to fight for what’s mine.”

“JJ! Can you hear me?”

It’s Kiara.

“Just, please, do what they say! This is getting dangerous!”

“No!” JJ shouts. His anger twists. “I’m done kissing the feet of people who’ve taken from me my entire life!”

His voice cracks. Tears sting at his eyelids and he wills them away. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. He was happy: truly, really happy. Maybe he’s cursed. Maybe he isn’t meant to be happy. Maybe that’s who he is.

“Y’all might have given up,” JJ shouts. He swallows. Everything hurts. To himself, he makes a stand. “But I’m not done fighting.”

“So, Shoupe. You want me, you’re gonna have to come get me.”

He starts quickly down the hallway. The beckonings from the cops sounds like the devil trying to lure Eve in to bite from the apple. The sound of whistling and crackling has him ducking for cover. Bullets.

“Jesus Christ.”

No, not bullets. Fireworks. He looks up to find a microwave. His mind works fast. What would you do? Something smart. Think, JJ, Goddamnit. Think!

‘Metals are conductors’, you explain as you stir the mixture in the beaker. JJ’s toying with the bunsen burner, mesmerised by the flames in a way that has you joking he’s an arsonist. ‘Fun fact about it is that if you put it in a microwave it starts sparking and shit. It can even start fires. Something about it reflects the microwaves. It acts like a mirror. Pretty cool, huh?’

JJ scrambles in the kitchen for cutlery. He comes up with a handful of forks and crams them into the microwave. He starts it up and smacks it farewell. Thank God for you and your wonderful mind. There’s no time to waste; JJ races up the staircase of the building. There’s chaos outside. People yelling. He can hear Sarah and Kie’s screams. They’ll be fine. He can’t help them, for once in his life. Maybe he never could. He opens the window and steps out onto the roof. He closes it behind him. Leave no trace, just like his childhood.

He teeters on the edge of the roof and looks down. Shit, that’s a hell of a drop. They’ll be behind him, though, hot on his trail. There’s no time. Sucking in a breath, JJ prepares himself for the landing before jumping off the roof. The metal of the car smacks against his skin and side. JJ’s knee shifts uncomfortably when he makes contact and he grunts. Rolling off onto the grass, he takes a second to check that he’s really alive.

“JJ.”

He blinks and looks up. It’s you.

“Oh my God, JJ,” you mutter, dropping to your knees.

“What–Where–”

“It’s just me, I slipped away from the others, they don’t know I’m here,” you hurry out. You’re hands on his body, helping him up. JJ grunts and registers a dull ache in his leg. The adrenaline works well as pain relief. “We gotta go. Now.”

“No, no, I can’t drag you into this,” JJ panics, trying to shake you off him.

There’s a humour in your eyes as you tell him, “I was already in this. Come on.”

There’s no time to be wasted in arguing. JJ complies and the two of you take off running down the street. You’re guiding the way. JJ doesn't question it. He trusts you. Hell, you might be the last person on earth that he trusts truly and deeply. The limp in his leg slows him down so he lingers behind by a few steps. Your hair is swaying as you race down the street. The streetlamps bask you in an ethereal glow. There’s small cuts on your legs from where you broke the glass of the cop car to break him out. JJ can’t believe you’re here.

“Come on, through here. I know somewhere we can lay low and think,” you tell him. JJ doesn’t ask any questions. The two of you pant as you run down the road. Soon enough, you come to what looks like an abandoned barn. You guide the two of you around the back and push back some metal siding. It reveals a hole big enough to crawl through. You go first and JJ follows, careful to secure the siding back once the two of you are inside. There’s blind patting around before you let out a sigh of relief, and JJ can hear the rattle of something in a box. When you light a flame, he realises it’s a box of matches. Your face comes into view in the faint light and you look around for something. A candlestick that sits in an old-timey holder is balanced on an old piece of machinery. You take it and light it, and place it back. There’s enough light to make out JJ’s face and his yours.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at one another. Then you’re hurling your arms around his shoulders and pulling him against you.

“Oh my God, JJ, I was so worried about you,” you tell him into his shoulder. JJ slowly coils his arms around your body. The warmth of your skin through your dress is like medicine. He tugs you tight against him and suddenly can’t think of anything worse than letting you go. His face buries into your neck and he breathes in the smell of you. It sends him back through time; through adventures and restless nights and sleepless mornings and peaceful evenings and joyful afternoons and mornings spent in Physics class together.

His mind clears enough from the imminent panic of survival that it can make space for that one damning thought.

Do I look like him?

JJ isn’t aware that he’s crying until your running a hand up and down his back soothingly. You shush him gently, almost swaying him, and JJ can’t help but cry more and more. His fingers grapple desperately at your dress and he tries to pull you impossibly closer. He can’t lose you too. He’s lost everything he knows: his dad, his mother, his house, his life, his freedom. He can’t lose you too.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Lemme see you,” you worry, unfortunately pulling away from him. Your hands are soft as they brush over the skin of his face, sweeping hair off his forehead, swiping tears off his cheeks. Your smile is sweet and tender when he looks at you through wet eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“Do…” JJ can’t find his breathe. Your brows tug together slightly.

“Does something hurt?”

Everything.

“Do I…” JJ gasps for air and clenches his eyes shut. He knows how it will sound. Like a petulant, pathetic child asking his dad what ‘JJ’ stands for. Like an idiotic, dreaming infant asking his dad where his mother is. Like a useless, stupid teenager asking his girlfriend: “do I look like him?”

When he opens his eyes, you’re studying him, confused and concerned. He thinks you might not have heard him.

“Do I look like him?”

You lick your lips. “Do you…Are you meaning Groff?”

JJ almost winces. He sniffs and nods, trying to steel himself. His shoulders square. He stares at you and waits. Your mouth moves as if to form words but nothing comes out. Sighing, you study him - really look at him - and then you give a half-smile. It’s solemn and sombre.

“No, JJ. I don’t think you look like him. Not really.”

JJ’s eyes press shut. A sob wracks up his throat. He suddenly realises that he wasn’t sure which answer he wanted to hear. Which answer would hurt the least?

I don’t look like him.

“What’re you thinking right now?” you whisper.

JJ swallows thickly. He wipes roughly at his cheeks with the back of his sleeves. You’re expression breaks his heart when he meets your gaze. Your hand cups his cheek, thumb sweeping over his skin like a mother soothing her child in their sleep. JJ wonders if his mother ever did that to him.

He doesn’t know who he is anymore, but he can try and find out. There’s only one way to do that.

“I need to go see Groff.”

Your eyes flicker with withheld surprise. But you’re good at saving face. Smiling, nodding, you back him like you did since day one, sat side by side in physics class due to the fates of a seating plan. From strangers to classmates to lab partners to friends to lovers. And the love you had for him, the love JJ had for you; that was the most powerful energy he'd ever known. An energy that could never be destroyed.

“Okay,” you say quietly, nodding. “Let’s get you to Groff’s.”

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danyasblogsblog · 2 days ago

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RANDOM HEADCANONS COD MEN

warnings : suggestive

- i love the gaz one i wrote for this hes so underrated and cute, i need to start writing for him

tomorrow my birthday!! very happy

- includes task force 141 (kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish, simon ‘ghost’ riley, john price), könig and keegan p. russ

gaz would be obsessed with subway surfers. 2am, you hear him raging beside you in bed. ‘kyle, baby, what happened??’ ‘i was so close to beating my highscore!!’ it becomes a full on addiction. its unhealthy. its truly frightening to see your kind boyfriend become a man possessed when he looses. but its all worth it when you see the glint in his eye when he says ‘i beat my high score, y/n, look’ and showing you his phone all proud awww hes so cute im crying omgomg

soap would most likely be obsessed with some random popstar. im thinking ariana grande. he would constantly tell you facts about them, ‘did you know that ____ used this inspiration for this album cover?’ and, for his birthday, you’d HAVE take him to one of their concerts. im just imagining his face when he sees the online tickets, his jaw dropping and him kissing you all over saying ‘thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou’

keegan is such a dog person. he loves dogs. whenever he sees one, he always gives it a treat and plays with it. especially after working with an animal as reliable and loving as riley, he wants to have a dog with you. sometimes, when you guys are out shopping, you’ll go see the pet store with him and play with the animals there. while you’re talking to the fishes, he’s with the dogs. while you’re separating two kittens from play fighting, hes with the dogs. speaking of kittens, i feel like he loves black cats aswell. hes so totally black cat bf omg

könig loves minecraft. will always play it- usually in creative mode so he can make a universe for you and him where you guys have lots of farm animals and cats. he most definitely is on the verge of tears when one of his wolves die, and you have confront him and tell him to take a break from playing for a minute. has beat the game hundreds of times but will never ever get bored of it. sometimes you play with him and you pick flowers for him while he actually focuses on killing the ender dragon.

ghost is SO SO good at bowling. he’ll recommend going on bowling dates so he can impress you. if you dont know how to bowl, youre in good hands. he’ll angle himself behind you and help you get the best shot. you’ve never seen him not get anything other than a strike, he’s too good!! defo will say ‘if i get a strike, i get lucky tonight with the missus’ knowing theres no way in hell he wont miss a single pin.

price is really good at pool. whenever you guys go to shitty bars, he’ll lighten the whole place up with his incredible pool skills. lowk starts gambling with the other players when they start betting. whenever he wins, he shows you off to everyone, pulling you close and saying ‘this is my good luck charm, everyone’ and kissing you on the cheek.

#cod #cod x reader #könig x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ x reader

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astro-inky · 1 day ago

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the aquamarine au

Info about au below (or at least what i have so far)

-based on the 2006 move Aquamarine, a teen romcom about two teenage girls meeting a mermaid and helping her find love to achieve their wish of one of them not moving away (its my childhood). this au takes basic plot ideas from the movie but with major changes

Jimmy and Joel are both 17. Jimmy's family owns a small, local beach resort where he also lives. Joel lives next door and they're basically attached at the hip and spend all their time at the resort. It's tense between them because Joel is moving far away by the end of the summer.

Scar is 19. He's been working at the beach as a lifeguard since he was in high school. Local sweetheart, everybody loves him. Seems like he sucks at his job, but nothing wrong ever really happens on his shift. Known flrt.

Grian is an unknown age but closer to Scar than Jimmy and Joel. I'm still working out his part. He's a mermaid who ran away from home. The Watchers are a group who protect mermaid pods but have very strict rules and archaic views; such as there is no such thing as love and have arranged a marriage for Grian he doesn't want (The Watchers in this au are less Mega Evil and more Parents Who Don't Understand and Kind Of Suck). He runs away to prove love exists. In doing so, getting into a major fight with his sister.

Grian gets caught in a storm and washes up into the pool of the beach resort, where Jimmy and Joel find him. They are SUPER cautious at first, but immediately offer to help him find true love when Grian tells them that helping a mermaid grants them a wish. They're hoping to use the wish to make it so Joel's family doesn't move away.

Grian is a bit oblivious to the human world, but even more so to the concept of love, because it is not common in the mer world. This leads Grian to believe anyone can love you with a bat of an eyelash, which leads him to try to woo the first interesting person who catches his eyes; aka Scar. When it doesn't immediately work, he's actually quite pissed off and thinks its Scar's fault for not falling in love with him. Jimmy and Joel proceed to make a plan to match the two together because Scar is so nice and probably the only person willing to give this weird and off putting mermaid a chance.

Unlike the movie, which takes place over a couple days, this au takes place over the course of a month or two, so there is even more chemistry between the cast. Hijinks and cringey romcom shenanigans ensue.

The ending is very different from the movie (im still thinking about it i dont have a lot for this au please go watch Aquamarine tho its my childhood and i love it)

uhhhhh IDK WHO IS GOOD FOR A CECILLIA CHARACTER. ok in the movie theres a character named cecillia shes the typical mean girl trying to stop the main characters from getting together. i wanna put someone in this role bc shes iconic and has funny moments im inspired by but im having a hard time thinking of someone who fits the role. any ideas for this or any thoughts at all are welcome, this au is for fun!!!

#trafficblr #trafficshipping #bad boys #desert duo #scarian #desert duo au #my art #the aquamarine dd au #please this au has been on my mind for a couple days #this is so niche lmao #and YES everyones designs are inconsistent idk how to draw idk how to draw

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the-ace-with-spades · 2 days ago

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(this is inspired by a buddie post but doesn't relate at all to 911)

for once, they're not exes, they're could've-beens

The Daggers are loitering around the Hard Deck a few months after the mission and somehow the topic rolls onto how they all met each other

One way or another, Bob admits he had a huge crush on Phoenix for like the first few weeks when they met

And everyone teases him to the point he's getting a bit shy, so to not overdo it on him, Fanboy pops in and says that, Hey, I had a huge crush on Reuben when we met during training as well, it's not that bad.

And instead, everyone moans that it doesn't count because they're married and Payback is all 'oh you had a crush on me? that's so embarrassing' while Fanboy just rolls his eyes at him.

So Fritz is like, 'Pretty sure everyone on base but Halo knew I had a crush on her, I just kept saying the stupidest shit around her,' which prompts Harvard and Yale to quote more and more outrageous sentences while Halo nearly snorts up the beer she's drinking

Bob is still really red and really quiet so Phoenix, attempting to get him to relax about the whole thing and not make a big deal out of it is like, 'Yeah, it's normal, lots of people have crushes on their co-workers, especially when they spend hours on end together. Look at Bradshaw over here, he used to be Mr. Heart Eyes for Hangman, you could've done much worse."

Before she realizes that, you know, no one was supposed to know this, it's already out of her mouth.

Bradley kicks her under the table and fucking freezes, avoidings anyone's gaze and bites down the urge to bang his head on the table.

Because, you know, back when he and Jake were still in training, they had what Jake thought was a friendly rivalry - it was actually just Bradley doing stupid shit to impress him and it flying over, figuratively and literally, Jake's oblivious head. They spent a lot of time together and it was very easy for Bradley to let himself just be in the moment and not think about the crush thing so he kinda ignored and ignored and before he knew it, it had been years.

Shit changed when Jake started ditching their after-work meet-ups to hook up with one of the flight engineers with whom he developed a bit of a coworkers-with-benefits relationship. And Bradley had to watch and hear about it on almost every occasion, every day.

Bradley said to himself that enough is enough because the crush was becoming embarrassingly not-crush-like and he decided he was not being that lame and would move on. Easier said than done - he tried to distance himself but he and Jake worked together every day and were friends so eventually all Bradley could do was the good old out of sight, out of mind method and he transferred without telling Jake.

Which is why Jake was so pissed with him. Because, well, Bradley was the closest thing he had to a best friend before he met Javy, and he just left Jake behind without explanation, one day there, the next one already in Japan, like it was nothing. (Jake does not realize that but he did actually have a bit of a crush on Bradley back then as well, he certainly didn't see him the same way he sees Javy...)

So, no, Jake was never supposed to find out, definitely not now when they're kinda friends again.

So, when very disbelieving You had a crush on Hangman? is thrown at him a few times and Jake is just staring at him from across the table saying nothing, Bradley pulls a lie out of his ass.

"He had a nice ass, nice smile, and very nice tits. I was young and stupid. It's not that big of deal."

It raises some eyebrows and snickers. "Seriously?"

"I found him hot, what's so surprising in that? We all have eyes."

There is a second of confusion but then everyone kinda nods along because, well, Jake is objectively attractive. "I thought he was hot, I wanted to impress him but instead we just got into a pissing contest of who is better at this or that and then I just, moved on."

"So, when did you stop crushing on him?"

"When I realized how big of a mouth he had on him," Bradley says, which is the biggest lie he's ever said - he liked Jake's big mouth an embarrassing amount. "Just couldn't stop yapping on and on."

This finally fucking awakes Jake enough to protest, "I don't yap."

And thankfully, the topic smoothly moves onto bullying Jake.

Bradley ignores the whole fucking thing because if he doesn't, he's going to get bitter, and if he gets bitter, he'll have to admit to himself why. And he's moved on, okay, he was fine all this years he's spent in Japan, he's fine now. It's not like Jake would ever give him a second glance anyway.

Meanwhile, Jake comes back home that night and can't sleep. Because Bradley thought he was hot. Bradley had a crush on him.

Or rather Bradley had thought Jake was hot, Bradley had a crush on him - past tense. He didn't even know this was an option and now he missed it, apparently by years.

And he can't stop thinking about it because he could have Bradley and he keeps imagining how their life could look right now if he didn't miss his chance when he had it. And every time he sees Bradley, he gets a reminder - it's all past tense, chance missed, nothing he can do about it, Bradley had moved on.

And Bradley notices that Jake is now acting weird around him, all quite and staring at him when he thinks he can't notice but avoiding him as best as he can any other time. And Bradley can only find one variable that changed just as Jake's started getting weird around him - and that's finding out that Bradley had a crush on him.

So that's great.

#hangster #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #tgm

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eclipseberrycake · 2 days ago

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Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader

I took some inspiration from @huneybeen who wrote this first so please please dont hate me but I've been thinking about them for the past 3 days and I needed to word vomit.

...K thanks bye.

Divider Credit: @sister-lucifer

☁ The dynamic of this alone is something I'd like to touch on especially because it's so fun to me.

☁ I imagine if anything the reader would be a common toon, so that changed things. You have two mains, Astro and Sprout, and two commons, yourself and Cosmo.

☁ You and Cosmo probably meet first because of that. You get close because of similar interests and stay close during runs.

☁ To add an extra layer to this, imagine Distactor! Reader too? Licking my fingers at this.

☁ Cosmo thought he had just gotten a new friend! He loves giving them treats and using them as a taste tester and even taking naps together wherever possible! It's great!

☁ Until...it's not? Why are you taking off? Why do the trinkets hooked onto your belt look suspiciously like the ones Goob and Tisha are known to use? Why are you actively getting the Twisteds attention?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

☁ The first time he sees you distract is a little stressful for poor Cosmo. The second you're back in the elevator and it clinks shut, he is whirling on you and demanding an explanation.

☁ He's so exasperated that he's left speechless when you simply smile up at him, still high off adrenaline, while talking a mile a minute about how much fun that was.

☁....Are you insane?

☁ That being said, after the fact, Cosmo is literally your personal healer. He is constantly fighting Toodles the other toons for heals, not for himself, not really, but so he's never left with nothing to give you.

☁ That's probably when he realizes he has an initial crush on you. He's mid-way through using a med-kit on you, on a floor high enough he can see the running starting to effect you. You're sluggish and fatigued and can't chug pop fast enough. It makes his chest ache at the sight before he's swallowing his nerves and wrapping his arms around you.

☁ "You're doing great. Thank you for the work you do."

☁ Feeling you melt against him made every grueling floor worth it in that moment. The draining yank of his own health leaving him to go to you through every new treat was far beyond repaid. He would do it a million times over for you if only for a smidge chance at this moment again.

☁ The run was finished soon after that, and you were quick to express your thanks towards him after that. Safe to say, if you thought he was clingy before, that was nothing. It's like he literally took an invisible chain and connected it between you two and you just haven't found it yet.

☁ He's always there with a smile and a treat and a snuggle if time and twisteds permit.

☁ Now, some world building for ya. I imagine that the OG Twisteds of the mains you see, are the real mains until that research is completed. Then Dandy lets you purchase an...un-twist antidote or something and that's when they come back. It's fun to me >:(.

☁ Following this, most people are gonna assume Sprout comes first.

☁ WRONG. I got Astro first so guess whose coming back. Astro.

☁ When Astro comes back, he's evidently shaken by the whole ordeal. The mains probably didn't know the commons overly well unless they were explicitly paired together. Like Sprout and Cosmo in that one animation, or Glisten and Vee, etc. Astro isn't seen with any commons, as far as I know, so he's probably a little lost and feels like an outsider.

☁ While he's recovering he's banned from any runs. Point blank period. However, that means he's alone while the commons are all out scavenging for research.

☁ Guess who comes in? Guess :)

☁ It's you!

☁ Unlike Cosmo, there are other distracting toons. Tisha and Goob both are more than happy to take some shifts while you stay back to recover yourself. Unfortunately, there's only one Cosmo, so he's left going on the runs as a healer and leaving you behind. You always see him off though, giving him pecks on the cheek before he's stepping into the elevator.

☁ You take the time to wander through Gardenview, eyeing each room as you pass before blinking at the infirmary. The new toon was in there.

☁ Astro half expected you to just continue on, regardless of if he was there or not. He was fine on his own, even if it wasn't his favorite. It reminded him too much of when he was... Of before.

☁ But you poked the top of your head in the doorway, your eyes being the only part of you visible. He blinked at the action, making eye contact. Your head tilted at the action and his own mirrored it. It made you giggle as you disappeared back around the door.

☁ Despite it, Astro found himself smiling at the action. what an odd toon you were.

☁ He never heard your footsteps disappear however, stunning himself when you popped your eyes back in, gleaming with mischief. The rest of you stepped in right after, pressing a finger to your lips with a humorous little wink. "Wanna sneak into the kitchen and steal some cookies?"

☁ Needless to say, he found himself in the kitchen, sitting beside you with a cookie jar shaped like a suspicious, rainbow petal'd plant sat between you munching on cookies that looked a little too familiar for comfort.

☁ You filled the silence whenever something popped into your brain, talking about things you felt he should know for whatever reason. He now knew all about Rodger and Glisten and Teagan's tension, which he wouldn't have guessed, and all about Gigi's...problem with misplaced objects. He even knew about your own rumors that laid hushed in the walls, spoken like they were about someone else.

☁ "Yeah! People keep saying Cosmo and I are a thing but he's never asked so until then, that's a no."

☁ He hummed at the time, even if some part of him felt a bit relieved at the information.

☁ By the time he was cleared to go on runs, you were bouncing up and down by his side excitedly, trinkets clinking from where you had hooked them onto your waist, with Cosmo excitedly grinning behind you.

☁ He liked seeing you two like that.

☁ Now. Sprout. Mr. Seedly.

☁ He's last to join. Astro helps with this tremendously. When you're downed from a surprise Shrimpo attack, clutching your arm as Ichor pooled over, Cosmo is quick to try and jump in to help, only for a twisted clone of himself to turn and lock in onto him.

☁ As much as I love to proclaim "Distractor! Cosmo!" he's not actually a distractor. So, he has to run to lose the twisteds quickly before getting bit himself. This is where Astro comes in. Not only does he quickly re-energize both you and Cosmo, he is able to give you a momentary heal, letting you run off, air horn blazing, while hiding in the back to turn his attention to Cosmo.

☁ Whatever pieces you or Cosmo may lose, Astro picks up. Yet, not all of them seem to click into place just yet.

☁ When the elevator stills and you all hear the telltale steps, Astro is quick to grab your shoulders and spit all sorts of warnings. "Watch the tentacles. You'll know where they're going to appear. Don't try to test them. It's not worth it." "He's slow but don't take that for advantage. He will find a way to keep up." "Ignore every other twisted. We can handle them."

☁ Blinking, he watched you slowly nod before blinking and giving a much more firm acknowledgement. "Understood."

☁ When the elevators opened, Astro watched as you quickly got Sprout's attention, darting around a budding pile of ichor before sharply turning the other way. The reason why quickly became apparent when a twisted Teagan turned the corner, which Goob quickly took away.

☁ Nodding to himself, Astro found himself turning to face Cosmo, who looked terrified at the what just happened. Did he look that way when Astro was...That way with him? He hoped not.

☁ Frowning, he gripped his blanket tighter before letting out a breath, extending one of his hands through the opening towards Cosmo. The other looked at it with wide eyes before his eyes upturned to look at Astro's. "I'll stay with you the entire time."

☁ They had to follow you after all.

☁ They stayed a good distance away from where you and Goob were distracting (which was rather entertaining to watch actually), grabbing capsules wherever possible and tossing healing treats to you both as you passed.

☁ It was a rather seamless process actually up until the elevator timer began, sending the other toons of the squad running. Cosmo, who had been waiting for Astro to finish the last machine, seemed to halt before Astro was urging him forward, steeling himself to stay behind. "They'll run out of stamina before getting to the elevator. We'll be fine!"

☁ Albeit hesitantly, Cosmo did turn and run, finding safety next to Rodger while Astro stayed a ways away outside. Goob was quick to return, free of twisteds, but looking no less stressed. "They were far! Sprout cut off their exit!" Goob quickly explained, twiddling his fingers in front of him.

☁ Astro nodded before instructing him to stand in the elevator as well just in case.

☁ As the seconds ticked down, Astro was seconds away from stepping just far enough to remain out of Goob's range just in case when you came skidding around a corner. He could tell you were running on low as you kept looking back, narrowly avoiding Sprout's clawed grasp. Waiting until you were close enough, he let his power thrum along the ground, watching as you immediately perked up.

☁ Goob took this as a signal, or maybe you gave him one, as you quickly moved to push Astro forward, right into the awaiting arms as you continued towards the elevator. Just as the elevator began to close, you dove, making it just under the steel metal as it slammed shut behind you.

☁ You were panting as you laid on the ground, the entire elevator silent save for your heavy breaths and the sound of Dandy preparing for his arrival.

☁ Cosmo was quick to jump onto you, hurling threats of no more heals if you ever tried anything like that ever again. You took it with grace, gently resting a hand on his head as he cried into your shoulder. Your eyes angled back, catching his and extending your free hand. "You can't fool me. I know that scared you too."

☁ If Astro moved forward to take your hand, sitting close enough to you his knees brushed your shoulders.

☁ You had gotten what you needed though, evident with the glower Dandy shot at you, hidden behind a plastic smile.

☁ Getting Sprout back was harder than getting Astro back, admittedly. You had explained that when getting a main back, you kept most of the toons behind simply for everyone's sake. Distractors, Cosmo and fast extractors was where you drew the line.

☁ Which Astro understood. But didn't like. However, that being said, his power made him a valuable asset, which he used to argue his point. When you acquiesced, he nearly cheered, triumphantly trekking into the elevator with Cosmo by his side.

☁ To say this was like the previous runs, but on some sort of crack would be an understatement. It was fast. It was grueling. It was a thing of constant motion with machines constantly being done and the elevator a repeating pattern of opening and closing.

☁ There were no jokes like usual. There was no chatting. There was a new tension among the people in the elevator, simply waiting for the countdown before starting it all over again.

☁ Cosmo ensured he stuck beside Astro the entire time, remaining a rock the entire time while you were busy. They kept close enough they could rush to you should the need arise, and have a few times, but stayed within hands reach of each other.

☁ By the time they reached floor 24, with all of you tired and injured to some extent, the sound of his steps were both a welcome reprieve and a dreaded expectation.

☁ You were the one trusted with the serum, clutching it tightly as you glared at the elevator before you were turning to look at Cosmo and Astro over your shoulder. "Stay safe, please. Don't wait for me."

☁ It was a harrowing ask, but not one they could linger on as the elevator opened and you took off.

☁ But then the lights went out.

☁ And then they heard Sprout let out a shrill roar signaling he spotted you.

☁ Then they heard the snarling of Pebble signaling he too also spotted you.

☁ That was all they needed before the group of them dispersed, eager to complete the machines as quick as possible before you paid the price for their lack of action.

☁ One by one each ticked off before the elevator was reopening and they all rushed back to the elevator. Goob, Cosmo and Astro stood right up at the lip of the elevator, eyes darting for you. You appeared much quicker, both Pebble and Sprout on your heels as you did.

☁ You dropped a quick smoke bomb, loosing both of their attentions as you quickly rounded around a counter. Pebble let out a snarl as he ran off in the other direction. He didn't get far before hearing you move and it was like a movie.

☁ You moved, launching at Sprout with the Serum poised and ready while Pebble snarled, rushing to catch you. You managed to catch Sprout, digging the spout of the needle into his neck before being chucked off, making you scramble as you quickly darted back around the counter. Astro let his power thrum as Goob snapped his arms out, Cosmo catching you as you ran into the elevator while Goob's arms snapped back. The elevator snapped shut as Glisten moved to end the run and send the elevator back up, both you and Cosmo moving to where Goob cradled an ichor riddle body.

☁ You quickly let Cosmo do what he needed too, diverging to wrap your arms around Astro, who's eyes were locked onto Sprout.

☁ He spent the night with you and Cosmo, both of which he dragged out of your rooms to sleep in his that night.

☁ Sprout's recovery is quicker than Astro's, as he's a toon made for healing. He's up and bitching before any of you can stop him.

☁ Cosmo is his first stop, duh, they're canonically very close, with Astro a close second as he would know the other main. But you? Sprout's got no idea who you are.

☁ So he's a little stand-offish. He sees you interacting with Cosmo and sees you with Astro, and both seem to thoroughly enjoy your company, but he also saw you when he was a twisted.

☁ You were a dumbass if he had anything to say about it.

☁ You'd see someone way down a hallway and risk running into a wall to avoid them getting maybe even possibly spotted. He'd seen you eat enough chocolate bars to make him sake just to stay just in front of Pebble. He'd seen you slip on a stray jumper cable only to get right back up and do the same thing when you rounded around.

☁ He wasn't sure he wanted that rubbing off on him.

☁ But you stuck around. When Cosmo wanted to bake, you were the first to get a bit of the final product. When Astro wanted a nap, you were right there with a blanket, acting as a pillow while you napped with him.

☁ Even on runs, you were quick to come to his aid, taking back the twisteds once he'd gotten his aggro-tapes. All with a stupid smile.

☁ He kind of hated that smile.

☁ Man this is getting LONGGG

☁ Anyway, how would you and Sprout bond? Uh, the common denominators silly!

☁ You were injured on a previous run, bad enough to warrant bed rest decrees from both Cosmo AND Astro. Lucky you!

☁ Sprout had only been cleared for basic runs and this was another possible retrieval run, which you heavily protested against with not only you injured but your second healer still on probation.

☁ Still, they went on with it. You and Sprout were left in the infirmary, awkward silence settling between you. Neither of you knew what to say from there. Your buffers were gone.

☁ With a huff, you sat up, running a hand down your face before turning to face Sprout. Who was watching you.

☁ He watched you like a hawk, watching as you swung your feet off the bed and slowly stood like a shaky new born fawn. "Cosmo's not gonna like that."

☁ You snorted at him, falling back onto the bed only to try again. Sprout's eyes narrowed as he scoffed. "Astro's not gonna like it either."

☁ You snorted again, finally finding your standing before turning to look at him, narrowing your eyes at him. "Are you coming with me to get cookies or not?"

☁ ...well, he can't say he didn't warn you. He did follow you to go get treats, acting as a crutch along the way simply for the reason he didn't want to wait for you to hobble along.

☁ That was the only reason.

☁ By the time you both got to the kitchen, munching on treats, you had picked up a fun back and forth with each other, trading quips as you dug into the cookie jar once more. You pulled out the last cookie, offering it to him.

☁ He looked at it before shaking his head, only for you to roll your eyes and split it in two. He took it with a grumble, scoffing. "I made them I can make more."

☁ "Gonna make them with Astro's face again?" You shot back with a grin, nibbling onto your own half.

☁ He gave an affronted gasp before the ding of the elevator was making you both look over, Sprout giving you a hand to welcome back the group. They hadn't been gone very long, so it either went very well or not well at all.

☁ It turned out be neither. The run had been called as they were unable to fall into a rhythm and Scraps and Brightney had gotten into quite the altercation.

☁ Both you and Sprout find yourselves looked for Cosmo and Astro, only to find them chatting near the entrance, completely fine. There's a moment between you and hi m, where you both side eye each other before you're reaching out and shoving him. Without trinkets you two are practically the same speed, only he has you outmatched with stamina.

☁ Which was his only hope as he stumbled, not expecting the dirty play, watching you take off towards them. He quickly caught up trying to shove you only for you to dodge him with a laugh.

☁ He knew he should've distracted more. He had gotten complacent with Pebble and was now paying the price for it. He should've known you were a dirty filthy cheater. He should've guessed.

☁ In a last ditch effort he launched himself at you, making you squawk as you both rolled forward, giving both Cosmo and Astro little time before the two of you collided into them sending the four of you into a heap of undignified limbs and cackles.

☁ I spent that entire time just developing that omfg and its already long. sobbing.

☁ Anyway how y'all get together is gonna be TBD bc my head is hurty and my tummy is empty. ~<3

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dreamsteddie · 10 hours ago

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This is a second love Omegaverse au inspired by @lexirosewrites fanfiction, Sometimes Goodbye is a Second Chance. It is one of my personal favorites and I have read it many a time and was inspired by it. This is meant to be a part of Slick Sunday but it got really long so I decided to post it like this instead.

------

They both find themselves suddenly alone in the world with little notice.

Steve thought he was in love. He was in love. But it turns out she wasn't. At least not anymore.

There had been a single moment of elation when she told him she was pregnant. That joy was quickly and brutally squashed by the admission that the pup was not his, and better yet, she was leaving him for the sire. They were going to take the chance of having her take a competing bond, hopefully beating out the strength of the old one to eliminate it completely. It's dangerous. If it doesn't go right the Omega will likely drop, maybe even lose the child from the shock of two bonds not willing to coexist but not being strong enough to eliminate the other

Apparently, moving on from Steve is enough of an incentive to risk it all.

Two nights later, he feels the bond dissolve. Gone, just like that. Empty where he had once been full. He turns into the pillows, the ones that still smell of her, and weeps. He reaches up to cradle his mating mark, now an empty scar with no meaning.

Eddie knew what he had wasn't love. He doesn't know if he'd ever been in love, but he knows it's not what he has with his Alpha. Without even realizing it, he had fallen into the same patterns of life his parents had tread before him. He met an Alpha at a bar, thought he was the best kind of wild, stayed with him just long enough to think that this was as good as it was going to get, and resigned himself to a bond. His Alpha wasn't the worst, but he was far from nice. He was a bartender who took advantage of his proximity to alcohol with a kind of reckless abandon that Eddie used to indulge in himself.

Then, all of a sudden, Eddie was pregnant. He didn't know how to tell his Alpha. Didn't know how he would react. Would he be excited? Mad? Indifferent? At the end of the day, he never gets to find out. By the time the call comes in to tell him his Alpha had had enough alcohol in his system to wrap himself around a pole, he's already felt the bond break. He thinks he should be sad. He should be devastated, it's the natural way to react, but all he feels is scared.

What is he supposed to do now?

----------------

They're both there to get their scars removed.

It's not a completely unusual procedure, common enough that there are a handful of clinics in town to choose from.

Steve hates it here. He hates the beige walls and the beige chairs and the smell of artificial air meant to cancel out the smell of distress that would no doubt be filling up the space otherwise.

He clocks Eddie first. He looks...vacant in a way that Steve can't help but feel is unnatural for him. He's dressed in all black but not like a widow. Chains and rings and a baggy hoodie brandishing the logo of some metal band he doesn't recognize. He doesn't know why, but something compels him to reach out.

He gets up, "this seat taken?" he asks.

The Omega looks up and, Jesus Christ, he has pretty eyes. Steve doesn't know if he's seen eyes quite like his before.

"Guess not," he says, voice deeper than any Omega Steve has ever met before.

For a while, they just sit. Everyone at these clinics is given a window of time to come in, so they could be stuck in this waiting room for five minutes or two hours. It all depends on how bad the cases before them are.

It's the Omega who breaks the silence.

"So, what are you in for?" he asks, looking at Steve with a little bit of that mischief that looks so natural on him. It makes Steve smile for the first time in weeks.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks, turning up his wry smile just a little bit "I got dumped. She cheated on me, got pregnant, and now she's gone. Gotta figure out where to go from here, I guess."

If Steve wanted to flatter himself, he would say that Eddie looks shocked at the admission. In reality, he doesn't know what to call that look. He just stares at Steve for a long moment and then says, "Huh, wasn't expecting that one." It's enough to pull a startled little laugh from Steve.

"I'm Steve." he holds out his hand

"Eddie." he takes it.

"So Eddie," Steve says as he releases his hand, "what are you in for?" That, apparently, is the wrong thing to say because the Omega goes from quietly amused to averting his eyes and slumping in his chair.

"My Alpha died last week."

Oh.

Before Steve can think of anything to say to try and spit out the massive foot he just put in his mouth, Eddie is pulling at the collar of the hoodie and tilting his head slightly to reveal his mark. It's different than Steve's which has been red and irritated since the bond broke, upset at not having a match. Eddie's is dull, to say the least. It's like a grey film has been placed over the whole area. He hides it away as quickly as he'd shown it off.

"The wild thing is I don't even miss him. I didn't even really like him!" he says a little too loud for the low buzz of the waiting room, but he doesn't seem to care. "I didn't even like him but then he went and got himself killed and left me alone with a pup I didn't even want! And now I can't bear to give it up even though I know I should because I have no fucking Alpha and no job and I'm going to be a shitty fucking mom and-" By now he's definitely too loud for the waiting room and people are starting to look around like they're waiting for someone to do something and Steve really does not need to be kicked out right now so he does the only thing he can think to do.

Steve wraps Eddie up in an incredibly awkward side hug and starts crooning at him, trying to gentle him into relaxing a little bit. He subconsciously tries pumping out calming pheromones but with the clinic purifiers, it's probably not doing what it's supposed to. He half expects Eddie to push him away. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who appreciates random Alphas invading his space, but to his surprise, Eddie melts into his side almost too easily. He puts his head right over Steve's sternum, getting as close as he can to that gentle rumbling purr.

"Fuck, sorry, that was too much," Eddie says, voice muffled by Steve's shirt.

"Hey, hey, don't worry about it. That sounds really rough, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about your Alpha." he soothes.

Eddie just lets out a little sigh, clearly not planning to extract himself from Steve's hold any time soon. "Like I said, it's not even the Alpha. Honestly, he kind of really sucked. It's just...It all seems so big right now, y'know? I never planned on pups, but now I've got one growing in my belly like some kind of parasite and all I want is to see their little face and hold them in my arms and keep them safe. I want this baby, but I don't know how I'm going to do it."

Once again, Steve doesn't know what to say. He's been abandoned more times than he cares to think about, but never in the same way Eddie has been. He doesn't know what to do, what to say, where this whole thing goes from a kind stranger offering a little comfort to an Alpha trying to insert themselves into a vulnerable Omega's life. He should say nothing. He should hold Eddie for as long as he wants to be held and get the last of his bond removed and start thinking about what to do with his life next.

In fact, that's exactly what he's planning to do, but in the course of step one -comforting Eddie- Steve makes the mistake of leaning his head on top of the Omega's. This close to the source, not even the extra strength air purifiers in the clinic are enough to hide Eddie's scent from him.

Steve has never really believed in scent mates, always thought they were an old wives tale, but he thinks Eddie might just change his mind. Steve has never smelt anything quite it. It's muskier than most Omegas tend to smell but with sweet notes of basil and peaches. It takes every ounce of self-control and a reminder to himself that he has been without a mate for less than a month for him to not start huffing at the poor guy's hair like a lunatic.

All that really means is that rather than continuing to hold Eddie in silence like a normal fucking person, he instead blurts out "I could help you!"

Startled, Eddie backs up enough to look Steve in the eye, his own eyes wide in surprise. He doesn't completely leave the circle of Steve's arms which he counts as a small win.

"What?"

This is Steve's chance to back out. To back peddle and make up something, anything, except for what he's really thinking which is something along the lines of "please be my mate and let me help you raise a child. I think we might be soul mates!"

What he actually says isn't all that better.

"I mean, I could help you with the pup, you know?" Eddie just continues to look at him, eyes getting impossibly wider, "I mean, we just met and that's crazy but I just got a new apartment with an extra bedroom and you seem like a nice guy and..." Steve deflates a little bit, letting the silence linger.

"Steve?" Eddie prompts. A little bit of hope peaking through his words. Just enough to give Steve the push he needs to tell to truth.

"...and I don't know what I want to do with my life anymore. I don't know what to do next. All I ever wanted was a family, but no one ever wanted one with me. So, if you want, you can stay with me. It doesn't have to be permanent but...maybe it could be. Eventually. Your choice." and he means it, is the thing. As bat shit insane as it sounds Steve is suddenly so sure that he could make a life with Eddie. That they could be happy together. Mates.

Eddie is, once again, silent. He's still just staring, jaw dropped searching Steve's face for something. Steve doesn't know what it is he needs to see, so he just lets him look.

"Eddie Munson?" a nurse calls out, breaking the bubble they've built around them. They both startle, instinctively scrambling out of their chairs so she doesn't pass over Eddie for the next patient.

Steve starts to panic as he feels this opportunity start to slip through his fingers. Once Eddie passes through those doors, there's no guarantee that they'll ever see each other again, but he won't push him. What he's asking for is crazy, he knows, and Eddie has every right to flee from him and never look back.

Instead, Eddie whips around. There's more life in him than there has been since Steve first spotted him. There's fear and hope and joy all dancing across his beautiful eyes as he surges back to grasp Steve's hand from where it was lying limp at his side.

"Yes!"

"Yes?"

"Yes! To all of it! Fuck!" Eddie is, once again, being way too loud for this waiting room, but Steve doesn't give a damn about that. How could he care about anything else at all when Eddie is smiling at him like that? "Just, wait for me ok? Or, I guess I'll wait for you since I'll be out first?" he says it more like a question than a confirmation, like he's suddenly scared Steve is going to take it all back.

"I'll look for you." is all he says, suddenly aware of the nurse making her way toward them, clearly impatient to get things started. He wishes he could go in with Eddie. Wishes he could hold his hand through the inevitable pain of the removal and soothe the pup growing in belly reacting to their mother's pain, but he has his own appointment to wait for.

Eddie nods, squeezing his hand just once before finally allowing the nurse to usher him back toward the offices in the back, never looking away from Steve as he does so. Steve gives him a little wave as he passes through the door before collapsing back into the seat behind him.

All that's left to do now is wait for what comes next.

#posting this a little early #I actually wrote this late last sunday #and decided to hold on to it #for this week #steddie #slick sunday #omegaverse #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie munson #typing out alpha steve harrington felt so evil #not because of omegaverse #but because if he had been a teenager in the 2020s #instrad of the 80s #he may have legit been called Alpha Steve #which I hate #on a new level #stranger things #fanfic #dreamer speaks

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hexologyst · 22 hours ago

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"What if I am not worth it for it all to be for me."

This sentence in particular stuck out to me because there's something so heartbreaking about the subtext here: that (if I'm understanding correctly) you feel undeserving of your own effort. Like the work required to create your comic is only justifiable if it's for someone else because, surely, making something for yourself first isn't worth your time.

I want to start by saying I have nothing but empathy for this feeling. Artists have to make money, too, and part of that is gaining an audience. There's a logistical, practical aspect to this concern, and I don't want to wholly dismiss it by saying it "doesn't matter" — because for many of us, it does, and that's okay. It is okay to want an audience, to want people to engage with your work, to want to be paid for your labor. It's okay and completely understandable.

All the practical stuff aside, though, I'd like to encourage you, OP (and anyone else who may need this, myself included), to gently challenge these "what if" questions:

What if I'm not smart enough to finish a story? → At what point do you become smart enough? What does that mean? Are your smarts really the obstacle preventing you from finishing a story, or is there something else? What if I'm not good enough at art to do the comic? → Same deal. What does "good enough" mean to you? Having a desired look for the art is fine, but getting specific about what you want to achieve is a lot more actionable than simply deeming yourself not good enough. What if no one cares? → Hey, they might not. But here's a better question: what someone does care? What if your comic, your art, your story, could serve as a catalyst for someone else? What if your courage, your decision to be vulnerable and share your creations despite your fear, sets off a chain reaction for other artists just like you, who suddenly feel brave enough to do it scared because they watched you do it first?

I think a lot of us get so caught up in the whirlwind that is publishing our work on the internet that we talk ourselves out of sharing at all. It's hard not to play the comparison game and feel insignificant, and again, that feeling is very normal — but I also think it can, occasionally, become a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy.

And listen, I'm preaching to myself just as much as I'm preaching to y'all. I needed to hear this, too. In fact, OP, I want to thank you for having the courage to voice these fears. In doing so, you've inadvertently inspired me to take my own advice and do the fuckin' thing scared.

See what I mean? I've not even read your story, and yet, you've already positively impacted me just by being yourself.

You're worth it. I promise, you're worth it.

I don’t think I am smart enough to finish a single story, or good enough yet at art to do the comic.. yes do it scared, but what if no one cares, what if I am not worth it for it all to be for me. What do I do. Does anyone know what to do

#artists on tumblr #digital art #comic art #artist support #do it scared #advice

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calliecopper · 3 days ago

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Ian Gallagher Being His Own Person, and Why That's Controversial

A meta about Ian's story during his time away from Mickey, and the hate his character receives for it. Inspired by @dazzle02 :)

How many times have you heard somebody say that they skipped season 8 of Shameless because Mickey wasn't in it? How many times have you heard somebody say that season 7 is only good during Mickey's episodes, or that the story is boring without Mickey in it, or that Ian's S6-8 arc was boring without Mickey? How many times have you heard somebody proclaim that Ian wasn't a good partner to Mickey?

Mickey is undeniably THE fan favorite character of the show, and with that comes a tendency for fans to defend him tooth and nail, even when he is in the wrong, and refuse to see any other points of view. Characters who go against Mickey in any way receive a harsh amount of criticism that sometimes is not fully justified. This applies even to Mickey's main connection to the story: Ian.

During season 5 and onward, some fans hold Ian's actions against him very harshly when I feel he deserves a bit more empathy. Of these, there are three main things people criticize his character for during seasons 5, 6, and 7 that I feel are not given proper analysis and thought by fandom.

Disclaimer before we get in because people feel very passionately about these two: Every interpretation of a character is entirely unique to each individual viewer, and these are just my opinions. This is in no way an anti-Mickey post, so as you read, keep in mind that any criticism toward him is not meant to make him out to be a bad character. Don't bite me.

Season Five: The Breakup of All Time

I think a large part of why people get so upset with Ian for the breakup is because of the growth Mickey experienced in seasons 4-5 leading up to it.

Mickey in seasons 1-3 is in extreme denial of being gay, and when he grows feelings for Ian, he lashes out and treats Ian like shit. Seeing Mickey's slow growth starting in season 3 brought interest to his character, and in season 4 with his major growth during his coming out, he becomes very compelling to a viewer. After all the angst that it took to get Mickey to finally open up, there's a natural desire to see that positive growth and relationship development continue. When Ian throws a wrench in that by breaking up with Mickey in season 5, people get upset, and they're going to direct that toward Ian because he is the easiest to blame.

There's the sentiment of, "Mickey came out for Ian, took care of Ian, and supported Ian when he needed him most despite his faults. Why is Ian leaving Mickey in the dust when he now needs him most?"

This is honestly not an unreasonable thing to feel when looking at things from Mickey's perspective.

But, when you take a look at Ian's character, and you really think of his motivations in that moment, his decision to break up is actually very understandable. Ian didn't break up with Mickey because he thinks Mickey is a bad partner or because he doesn't love Mickey enough. He broke up with Mickey because he thought that's what was best FOR Mickey.

I think comparing the breakup to their fight over marriage in season 10 to be an effective way to understand Ian better.

In season 10:

"How do you know you love me? Huh? How do you really know? I'm bipolar, right? I don't know who I am from one day to the next, and I can't guarantee shit. So why do you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?"

- Ian to Mickey, S10E9

Compare this to this conversation during the breakup:

"You used to love me. Now you don't even know who I am. Shit, I don't know who I am half the time... You don't owe me anything."

"I love you."

"The Hell does that even mean?"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E12

I feel that Ian's mindset is pretty similar in these two moments. In season 5, he is still grappling with his diagnosis, and he has no frame of reference of how a healthy life with bipolar can look. Everybody has been comparing him to Monica, and he himself seems to oscillate between thinking he is like her and not like her, so in his mind, he has nothing to offer anymore.

Then, in season 10, in his mind he proved himself right. He tried to get his shit in order, lived happily and found peace with his diagnosis, and then he fucked it up. He had an episode, and he lost everything he fought so hard to have. He has practically ruined his life because he DID what he FEARED he would:

"I hate the meds. You gonna make me take 'em?"

"You get fucking nuts when you don't."

"Are you gonna want to be with me even if I don't?"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E12

That conversation isn't Ian saying he isn't going to take his meds, given how in season six, he IS taking his meds. I interpret his above statement to be a warning to Mickey. Because Monica has tried to get on her meds before, has tried to get better, and has failed many times. IAN has gone off his meds willingly twice now. This is him telling Mickey, straightforward, "I do not like the meds, and there will always be a risk of me deciding not to take them."

And in seasons 8-9, he does exactly that. He goes off his meds, and he destroys everything he built for himself. That's part of the reason why he hesitates to marry Mickey in season 10, and part of the reason he breaks up with Mickey in season 5.

Ian views himself and his disorder to be a burden on the people he loves. He believes that Mickey will be better off without him.

"I don't want you sitting around, worrying, watching me, waiting for me to do my next crazy shit."

- Ian to Mickey, S5E12

Because Mickey HAS been doing that. Ever since he was diagnosed, Mickey has been watching Ian like a hawk, acting like a nurse, which frustrates Ian.

"Fuckin' nurse now?"

[...]

"I'm sick of your whiny, pussy crap. I don't need a fucking caretaker, alright? I need the shit-talking, bitch-slapping piece of Southside trash I fell for. Where is he? The fuck is he, Mickey?"

- Ian to Mickey, S5E10

But, of course, Mickey doesn't see it that way. To Mickey, Ian is anything but a burden he wants to unload.

"It means we take care of each other. [...] It means thick and thin, good times, bad, sickness, health, all that shit."

- Mickey to Ian, S5E12.

Mickey would do anything for Ian. He confronted his worst fear by coming out, stayed with Ian even after the infidelity, defended Ian after he kidnapped his son, and tried his best to understand a mental illness he had no prior knowledge about. Yet, Ian still won't commit to him. After everything, he still isn't good enough.

"I'm not saying never!"

"No, you're just saying you don't love me enough now."

- Ian and Mickey, S10E9

And Ian, meanwhile, thinks that HE isn't good enough for MICKEY. He has been diagnosed with a lifelong condition, one that he has seen ruin lives firsthand, something that will be a part of him for the rest of his life, and he doesn't wanna tie Mickey down to that life.

It's all one massive miscommunication.

Finally, I think the part that is the most confusing to fans regarding Ian's mindset during the breakup stems from his moments with Monica in S5E11 and S5E12.

Specifically, the parallels between these two conversations.

"Ian, there's always gonna be people that are gonna try and fix us. And you can never make those people happy. Like it breaks their heart just to look at you."

"Yeah, um, even Mickey now."

"He's your boyfriend, right? [...] I'm sure he means well, but you need to be with people who accept you for who you are. And they're out there. You should never apologize for being you."

- Monica and Ian, S5E11.

Vs.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Too much! Too much is wrong with me. That's the problem, isn't it? Too much is wrong with me, and you can't do anything about that. You can't change it. You can't fix me, 'cause I'm not broken. I don't need to be fixed, okay? I'm me!"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E12.

Monica's interpretation of the relationship seems to paint Mickey in a negative light. "He means well, but he doesn't get it," or something along those lines. Based on her previous experiences with the diagnosis, she has come to the conclusion that people like Mickey or Fiona, who try to get them to take medication and are saddened by the diagnosis, are being controlling, and do not love them for who they really are. That's why she always went back to Frank; he actively tried to get her to NOT take her meds or get better, and did not encourage her when she DID try to get better. So, to her, being off her meds IS the TRUE version of herself, and the people who can not accept that do not accept her.

But I think, while Ian's lines parallel Monica's, that he does not think the same way that she does.

Toward the end of season 5, Ian seems to do a complete 180 from his previous statements on his similarities with Monica.

"You flushed your pills? You get thats a full-on Monica move, right?"

"I'm not Monica."

- Ian and Fiona, S5E8

Vs.

" [...] Cause they all say how alike we are."

"That's probably not a compliment."

"Uh... No, I think it is."

- Ian and Monica, S5E11

This happens in the wake of his arrest, after Ian's siblings talk about him to the military police. Many of their comments seem to hit Ian in a way that makes him feel misunderstood or like a burden.

Debbie: But he's been acting crazier for longer than that.

Lip: Yeah, at least this past year.

Officer: How would you characterize his behavior?

Debbie: Compared to how he used to be... He's different.

Lip: He'll go back and forth from, you know, being depressed, to, you know, incredibly wound up. I mean, he ran off with a baby for no reason.

Debbie: He almost hit me in the head with a baseball bat.

Fiona: Our mother was bipolar, so we know what it looks like. She put us through Hell, and- I'm not saying you put us through Hell, but when they're manic they can be destructive.

Officer: In your opinion, does he require medication?

Fiona: Yes.

Officer: Is he unable to care for himself?

Fiona: Sometimes, yes.

So, when Ian talks to Monica when they reconnect, Ian expresses loneliness and a feeling of isolation.

"I'm really glad you came, yknow? I just... I needed someone to talk to who... gets it."

- Ian to Monica, S5E11

When Monica tells Ian to not be ashamed and that she loves him for him, she is kind of acting like his Frank. The meds have been taking a toll, and recovery is so difficult that running with her and getting validation from the only other person who could "get it" is an easy choice to make. I think the combined factors of Mickey treating him so delicately, his siblings laying out his flaws so plainly, and his mother's open acceptance creates a feeling of bitterness or shame, and Ian is hoping to find comfort in his mother.

But it doesn't go the way he expects it to.

At the diner, he thinks that Monica is going to prostitute herself for money, and is relieved when she doesn't. It's likely he was thinking of his own stint at the Fairytale in this moment.

Then, he recalls a moment from his childhood that he does not look upon fondly, only for Monica to refer to it as "good times."

He meets Monica's partner and discovers he is an aggressive teenage meth dealer that she is helping to sell the meth.

I think Ian has a true moment of clarity during this. He had thought that he was vindicated, that everybody else was wrong, that they didn't understand, that Monica was right, and that he was perfectly fine just the way he was. But then he sees what Monica considers to be "a happy life."

"Ian, I'm finally happy. People like us, we can be happy. I love him, and that's the most important thing, to find somebody to love, right? Who loves you back for who you are. I want that for you. I love you. We're gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay."

- Monica to Ian, S5E12.

Monica's perception of life is warped. What she considers a good life is living in a trailer selling meth. Good memories are traumatic memories for those around her. True love and support is an aggressive teenage dealer, or Frank Gallagher.

A simple drive to Ian was a horrifying kidnapping to Svetlana. Doing a porn that was no big deal to Ian was a betrayal of trust to Mickey. Joining Monica and ignoring the calls of his well-meaning but ignorant family to Ian was a painful and worrisome disappearance to them. Ian's perception HAS been warped, and he's crashing back to reality, realizing that he has run off with MONICA, realizing that he can't continue down the same path as her, and needs to go home.

He's come to accept that he is bipolar. He's internalized what his family has kept repeating, that he is just like Monica, and looking at her living like this, believing that she is living well, is terrifying to him.

So he goes home, believing that he is just like his mother, and he's doomed to be a piece of shit. He goes back, and he breaks up with Mickey. Because he doesn't think that people like him can be happy, and he doesn't think he'll be okay. And that isn't something that Mickey can change. Too much is wrong with him, and Mickey can't do anything about it.

Really, it's just a matter of Ian operating under the "if you love them, let them go" mindset, and Mickey interpreting it as a rejection. It's the two of them both believing they are not good enough for the other and internalizing it instead of properly communicating.

TL;DR: Ian's breakup with Mickey in S5E12 is not done in a healthy OR selfish mindset. To him, he will do nothing but drag Mickey down, and in his unmedicated and clearly altered state of mind, he thinks the best thing is to let him go.

Season Six: Dating Caleb and Other Blasphemy

The first time we see Mickey in season six, it's behind a pane of glass in an orange jumpsuit.

Mickey had tried to murder Sammi, Ian's half-sister, and had been sentenced to prison for 15 years. It's established that Ian has not been to visit Mickey much and is trying to move on past that time in his life. But, upon being bribed by Svetlana, Ian visits, and during this visit Mickey asks Ian a question:

"You gonna wait for me?" - Mickey to Ian, S6E1.

And when Ian shows hesitation:

"Fuckin' lie if you have to, man, eight years is a long time." - Mickey to Ian, S6E1.

So, Ian replies:

"Yeah. Yeah, Mick, I'll wait." - Ian to Mickey, S6E1.

Before even meeting Caleb, fans absolutely tear into Ian for his decision to not commit to Mickey in this moment. They call it selfish, or out of character, or unfair to ice Mickey out when he is going through this difficult time.

But, let's look at it from Ian's position.

Ian has dealt with abandonment issues his entire life, with both Monica and Frank being unstable and infrequent providers during his adolescence. Throughout his relationship with Mickey, they had been separated on three separate occasions, one of which was entirely voluntary on Mickey's part. Now, due to committing a major crime, Mickey has been sent away for up to fifteen years. They would both be in their thirties by the time Mickey would be released, or close to it if he got out early, and that's not even considering that he was actively taking part in jobs / activities that could extend his sentence, like stabbing people.

Ian has dealt with recurring disappointment and abandonment his entire life, and throughout their time together, Mickey hasn't really established himself as stable.

Now, before you bring out the pitchforks;

"But Mickey was there for Ian and supported him through seasons 4-5. He grew as a person and proved he IS reliable."

Yes, that's true. He did undergo massive development that allowed him to be a better partner and more reliable person to Ian. But, canonically that period of time only takes place over a few months.

Mickey, for the better part of 2-3 years, was NOT a good partner to Ian. Multiple years of an unsteady situationship is not so easily forgotten. Yes, Mickey 1000% had valid reasons for acting the way he did. It's made very clear in S3E6 and S4E11 why Mickey hides his sexuality and lashes out when forced to confront it. But that isn't an excuse. His reasons for acting in a negative way towards Ian the first three seasons is understandable, but he went about it in a bad way.

Not to mention that, despite his growth, Mickey has just been sent to PRISON. No matter how you spin it, his decision to go after Sammi was NOT justified and does not necessarily bring forth confidence in his reliability and stability.

It's not unreasonable for Ian to not want to wait for over a decade for a man who has not always been the best for him. It sucks as a viewer who is invested in them, but Ian was not in the wrong.

Beyond (justifiably) selfish reasons, Ian also already thought that he was bad for Mickey, was worried that he would ruin his life, and with Mickey's justification for his torture attempt being that he did it FOR Ian, that Sammi had it coming because of what she did TO Ian, Ian probably felt responsible for that as well. There was probably a level of guilt in Ian from the whole situation, both for Mickey being in prison and for leaving him there.

But from his point of view, it's better for everybody to try and move on.

What really bothers me about this criticism toward Ian is the sense that he OWED Mickey his time and loyalty. Because Mickey had given and sacrificed so much for Ian during seasons 4-5, it's like people think Ian is then obligated to return that for Mickey, no matter what Mickey did. It's a very transactional way to view the situation, and it just leaves me with an icky taste in my mouth. Nobody owes anybody anything in that situation. Ian does not owe Mickey companionship, and Mickey did not owe Ian support when he got put in prison in season 9. Returning to Ian was Mickey's decision to make, and not a decision Ian was obligated to make in season 6.

Now, onto the actual "dating other people" part of the conversation.

For months, Ian has done nothing but get his meds on track while working at Patsy's, then at the janitors job on Lip's campus. During this time, Ian expresses having a very low sense of self-worth.

"He as smart as you?"

"No."

"Yeah, he's smart."

"Lip is the genuis of the family."

"So that gives you an excuse for not finishing [high school]? You seem plenty smart, and Dav's uniform doesn't really suit you."

- Ian, Lip, and Professor Youens, S6E3

And:

"This is it for me, Lip. This job. This is where I land."

- Ian to Lip, S6E3

Which Lip comments on in a very concise way:

"Yknow, he thinks... Being bipolar means he's doomed to be a piece of shit like our mother."

- Lip about Ian, S6E3

Ian feels no sense of purpose during these months. He feels he has no worth and that he is doomed to work a dead-end job and have no happiness. He thinks he is just like Monica.

That only changes when he witnesses an accident on the highway, and he saves a woman's life by pulling her out of a burning car.

This leads us to Caleb.

Now I'll admit, this is where I take issue with the storytelling, because this would've been a PERFECT way to segue into Ian's EMT arc, but regardless of what I personally think would've been better, the way it plays out in canon does actually still make sense for Ian's character.

After saving the woman from the burning car, Ian collapses due to smoke inhalation and exhaustion. A firefighter on the scene provides Ian with oxygen, thus saving his life. Ian immediately fixates on this particular firefighter.

Now, Ian has a very complicated relationship with feeling his emotions post his diagnosis. In season five, when he is numbed by his meds, the only way for him to feel again is through pain, via self-harm or starting physical fights, and sex. In fact, sex plays a major part in many aspects of Ian's life.

From the age of fifteen, Ian had been consistently subject to sexual abuse. He's been used for his body by countless men throughout his teenage years and has been oftentimes reduced merely to his sexuality and what he can provide to his partner. Even Mickey, in season 2, tells Ian as such in a panicked rage.

"You think we're boyfriend and girlfriend here? You're nothing but a warm mouth to me."

- Mickey to Ian, S2E8.

(No, I'm not saying Mickey sexually abused Ian. But he did contribute to the way we see Ian default so heavily to objectifying and sexualizing himself.)

So, due to this recurring trauma, Ian has a tendency to default to sex as the primary way of getting satisfaction, be it emotional or physical.

So, when Ian gets a rush of adrenaline from the crash, after months of that numbness, he chases the emotions in the most effective way he knows how.

Ian goes to the firehouse with cookies to give as thanks to the firefighter who saved him, but with a clear ulterior motive of getting laid. When he finds out that the particular firefighter (who happens to be part of the "gay shift" which is an odd writing choice) he saw on the highway is married, Ian meets Caleb. In this scene, they speak all of one line to each other when Caleb invites Ian to a firehouse softball game. The next time we see them on screen together, Ian acts very flirtatious toward Caleb, which sets forth their relationship.

"You ever pitch?"

"... Usually, but I'm open depending on what you're into. Where we doing this?"

"Follow me."

[...]

"Wait, we're actually playing softball?"

- Ian and Caleb, S6E5

I think Ian receives hate for this simply because he's expressing interest in a guy that isn't Mickey. Fans get the impression that Ian is moving on too fast or that his interest in Caleb is sudden or rushed. However, I think the rushed nature actually works to show Ian's intentions. In this moment, Ian is not really looking for a full-on relationship. Given how little they interacted thus far, the fact that Caleb wasn't even who Ian was originally interested in, and how Ian's comments consistently err on the side of sexual, its safe to say Ian was just looking for a hookup. In fact, it's Caleb who pushes so hard FOR the relationship.

Mickey, in a deleted scene, hooks up with an inmate right after talking with Ian. If Ian's relationship with Caleb had only been a fling or hookup, I don't think Ian would've been as heavily criticized. As it is, fans get upset at this relationship because it IS a relationship. They go on dates, Ian starts staying with Caleb, and really they seem to be very domestic.

But I don't think Ian was as dedicated to the relationship with Caleb as fans make him out to be.

From the jump, Ian seems uncomfortable with the quick-moving pace of it. At first he only seems interested in sex with Caleb, but upon the negative reaction that provokes, Ian conceded to going on a date with Caleb (which is a bit of a slap in the face to Mickey fans after Gallavich's ruined date.)

"[...] I was hoping to get my hands on your hose."

"Is that what this is to you? A fuck?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing. Come on, let's get out of here."

"No. I knew you were younger than me, but I thought you were a grown-up."

"Fuck. Okay. Okay. Hey, I'm into you, alright? I thought you were into me."

"I am."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't stick my dick in just any guy."

"What do you want, then?"

"Seriously? Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah."

"A date."

"With, like, flowers and chocolate and shit?"

"No, we could skip the flowers."

"Okay. You're on."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E5

(Side note, pulling a "is that all this is to you" after two non-romantic interactions is not just quick in terms of hookup culture, which Ian is more attuned to, but is quick in any terms. More on that later.)

During this date, Ian is visibly very uncomfortable. Some would chalk this up to him having never been on a date before, and the writing even seems to imply that,

"Okay, look, I have no idea what I'm doing. My last boyfriend wasn't much of a talker, his idea of a conversation was to insult me a bunch and then punch me right before we banged."

- Ian to Caleb, S6E6

but that's actually not true, DESPITE the writers forgetting that.

"You know, Mickey and I never went out on dates. Ned never took me out, Kash and I fucked in the back of a convenience store, and I don't think jerking off strangers in a nightclub counts, so..."

- Ian to Lip, S6E6.

He actually HAD gone out on a "date" with Ned in season three, where he was visibly less uncomfortable than on his date with Caleb. He also went to many loft parties during his time dancing at the club, wherein he blended in very well and was able to sorta chameleon himself with the northside crowd. I think the show wants us to believe his discomfort is from him "never having been on a date before" or being unfamiliar with a "slower" pace, but I think his discomfort actually would stem from him just genuinely not being interested in Caleb in a romantic way, and thus feeling awkward on a date that's in a more romantic setting (compared to his one with Ned, which was undoubtedly more sexual.)

I also think his discomfort stems from being completely out of his element. Ian has taken a massive hit to his confidence since his diagnosis, so his Southside roots bring about a bit more hesitancy in him than it might have before, and he may be less confident in his ability to chameleon. That's why, during the date, Ian shows discomfort with Caleb when he shows more "class" than Ian.

"Usually, I get a bunch of apps to share. You good with that?"

"[Uncertain hum] ... Appetizers! Sure, yeah, big- big fan of apps."

[...]

"You seem like a very pensive kinda guy. You an only child?"

"Uh, no."

"Brothers and sisters?"

"A bunch, yeah."

"Older or younger?"

"Both."

"What about your parents? Both still alive?"

"... Yeah."

"... Fantastic. I'm learning so much."

[...]

"Where I'm from, people communicate with their fists."

"Where's that?"

"Southside."

"Mmm. Hands of steel. Okay, so you're a street rat. A brawler."

"Is that a problem?"

"Only if you make it one."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E6.

Then, beyond their first date, we have the actual relationship to dive into.

Throughout his scenes with Caleb, Ian seems to oscillate between neutrality, discomfort, or mild enjoyment in the situations he finds himself in.

There's this interaction, for example, where Ian lets Caleb take charge in defining their relationship:

"So what are we doing?"

"Whatever you want, I guess."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E7.

Or this moment:

"What are you smiling at?"

"I like having you over here. What are you smiling at?"

"I like having a purpose."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E8.

Or when Caleb invites Ian out with his friends, and we see Ian slip into his chameleon persona, mirroring the petty mannerisms of the most vocal participant of the conversation, as well as avoiding diving too much into his personal history.

"You haven't told me which one is your ex."

"Guess."

"Old guy, pink sweater."

"How'd you know?"

"Ooh, a redhead, Caleb? Does his carpet match his drapes?"

"You're a good sport."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E8.

[...]

"If we had known you were bringing a middle school student, Caleb, we wouldn't have come to a place that cards."

"Oh, no, it's cool, I don't drink. I hear it makes your skin old and leathery."

"That's-that's how we're playing this?"

"Hey, you threw down first."

"Where you from, kid?"

"Back of the Yards."

"Local boy. What's your story?"

"Story?"

"Who you are, what you do, how did you meet this chocolate bundt cake?"

"Met him at the firehouse."

- Ian and Gregory, S6E8

[...]

"We like this one, Caleb. Don't we, Gregory?"

"I mean, If young, beautiful, and kind of a smartass is something to like, sure, fine, I guess we do."

- Caleb's friends about Ian, S6E8.

OR, in a deleted scene where Caleb expresses frustration at Ian keeping the distance between him and Ian's family, as well as Ian's lack of communication, while Ian seems unbothered or even perplexed by Caleb's frustration.

"So, where'd you sleep last night?"

"Home. Got done at three, told you I'd be late."

"Yeah, like nighttime late, not next day late."

"Well, I didn't wanna wake you, and I had to go back there to grab some stuff: clothes, towels..."

"Where's there?"

"Home, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Back of the Yards."

"Right. You did mention that once. I still don't know where it is or who I'd call if there was an emergency?"

"Uh... my brother, I guess? Or my sister."

"Brother or sister. Okay. I'll just track down Ian Gallagher's brother or sister on the internet."

"I'll... put their numbers in your phone."

"Great."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E11 deleted scene.

OR any of the follwing:

When they go to get Ian tested for STDs, he is visibly uncomfortable having Caleb in the room with him.

He is only comfortable revealing his bipolar disorder if it is done in exchange for another secret from Caleb.

He isn't very comfortable sharing his past, only references his previous relationship in a lighthearted manner, and he only reveals his sexual history upon feeling pressured to do so, which he purposefully presents in a callous way.

To me, the entirety of Ian and Caleb's relationship reads as Ian's desperation for validation through sex, which leads to him putting up with a relationship he isn't entirely comfortable in or commited to or ready for. To me, it seems like he's truly just looking for companionship in any way he can get it.

Out of everything, though, I think what really gets to fans most about this storyline is the constant comparison of Caleb to Mickey as a means of demonizing Mickey.

Throughout the entirety of Ian and Caleb's relationship, there is a constant comparison between the two relationships, seemingly with the intent of painting Mickey as a horrible partner.

When Ian tells Lip about his upcoming date with Caleb, he remarks that he never went on dates with Mickey, which comes off as an unnecessary jab.

During his date with Caleb, Ian talks about his lack of effective communication skills, which reflects negatively on Mickey, to the point Caleb brings forward the idea of domestic abuse.

During the wedding that Ian attends with Caleb, Ian mentions Mickey's marriage to Svetlana, and he uses a tone that comes off as belittling the situation and how difficult it was for Mickey.

There's this line, when Caleb asks Ian to kiss for the first time:

"Can I kiss you?"

"I thought kissing comes after you've had sex a bunch of times."

"Ian, kissing comes whenever you want it to. Even now."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E6.

Then, there's Mandy stating that Caleb was better than Mickey.

"A hot black fireman. Also an artist."

"Upgrade from my brother."

"I miss Mickey, but uh... This new guy's nice."

- Ian and Mandy, S6E9

These near constant comparisons to Mickey are frustrating to fans, because it can often feel like Ian, or even just the writers and the narrative, are trying to belittle Mickey's character and reduce him to a one-note toxic ex, which completely spits in the face of the development that he went through. THAT is what is most frustrating to fans.

Because it's true that Mickey was not always the best partner. In real life, Mickey would be a walking red flag, and Gallavich would be undeniably toxic. But that applies to EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER in Shameless. That is the entire point of the show. None of them are particularly good people. They all do shitty things, but they all have compelling reasons for doing it. That's why we can look at these characters and feel connected to them instead of just absolutely hating them.

It's a really odd writing choice for a show that focuses on morally gray characters, or the idea that nobody in the show is really a good person, to decide to play moral high ground in this particular instance, and have Ian suddenly turn his nose up at Mickey's behaviors.

But is this really how Ian feels?

Because, as established, Ian is VERY good at playing chameleon. He is good at shaping himself into whatever a partner wants him to be. He mirrors his partners mannerisms, beliefs, and attitudes.

And Caleb, for all that the story wants to make us believe he's better than Mickey, is actually not the best partner either. Not just for cheating on Ian in season seven and then gaslighting Ian about it; he shows some toxic behaviors in season six as well, including being lowkey judgmental about Ian's Southside roots.

Take, for example, Caleb implying that the Southside is trash, but that he can see the beauty in Ian despite being from the Southside:

"That's my latest. I love to find the treasure inside the trash. Trying to find the secret life in things. What it wants to be instead of what it is."

"Is that what you're doing with me?"

"Good question. Can I kiss you?"

- Ian and Caleb, S6E6

(Which, funnily enough, this line from Caleb goes pretty against the sentiment that Monica had in season five, of Ian finding somebody who loves Ian for who he already is, as Mickey did.)

Or, for another example, Caleb judging Ian pretty heavily during the softball game for being "not grown-up." Simply because Ian expresses sexual interest in him above romantic.

"Cmon, let's get out of here."

"No. I knew you were younger than me, but I thought you were a grown-up."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E5.

Which, as I pointed out before, is really strange behavior. Participating in hookup culture isn't something that Ian needs to be shamed over. There's a sentiment of "Hooking up is beneath me, it's immature," to Caleb's tone, which is unfair. Now, he has reasons for this, that being his experience with getting HIV from a hookup who lied to him, which draws a pretty interesting parallel to Ian.

"Don't worry, guy I did the scene with said he was clean."

"He didn't use a rubber? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E5.

Vs.

"Guy in college. He lied to me."

- Caleb to Ian, S6E8.

(Which I actually find to be a very interesting plot point and is actually a pretty good scene.)

So, while Caleb was not wrong to put forth a boundary by not hooking up, he was wrong for acting as if IAN was the problem in the situation. Not to mention, his behavior at the game is very strange when taken into account how little they've interacted thus far. He had understandable reasons for his negative reaction, but he went about it the wrong way. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

Anyways, I could talk about the relationship between Ian and Caleb more, but that's not what the point of this is.

The point I'm trying to make is that Caleb, however covertly, expresses a negative or biased view toward the Southside lifestyle. And Ian, being the type to mimic his partners, follows along in that.

Ian already fears that he is going to be left. He is afraid that showing Caleb who he really is and not being the idealized version of himself will lead to Caleb breaking up with him.

"I'm enjoying it while it lasts."

"You think he'll dump you?"

"Well, I've told him I'm bipolar, and my family's screwed up, and he took it pretty well. But it's one thing to hear it and another to live it, so... We shall see."

- Ian and Mandy, S6E9

So, he chameleons. He makes himself the treasure in the trash. He distances himself from the image of a brooding, Southside street rat.

Because, after so long of constant pain and numbness during and post his diagnosis, Caleb is the first good thing he's found.

"I haven't been this happy in a long time."

- Ian to Caleb, S6E8.

And really, everything that I just talked about doesn't matter when you think about it that way.

No matter how dedicated or invested Ian was in his relationship with Caleb, it still provided him with companionship and validation, which as we know, is something that Ian has an unhealthy dependence on to find self-worth.

And I don't think Ian was wrong in searching for that connection simply because that connection wasn't with Mickey. He could've been well and truly in love with Caleb, and he wouldn't deserve some of the hate he receives for his canon actions.

It's easy to look at Ian's relationship with Caleb and get frustrated because of all the time that was put into Ian and Mickey's relationship. But beyond the instinctual negative feeling that comes with seeing Ian with anybody other than Mickey, his relationships outside of Mickey deserve to be analyzed and observed for what they actually do for HIS character, and not just immediately cast aside as unnecessary or ooc.

So, to summarize:

Firstly, Ian wasn't selfish for not waiting 15 years for somebody in prison. Whether he was serious about Caleb or not, Ian was under no obligation to dedicate himself to Mickey. Ian did not owe Mickey anything simply because Mickey was there for Ian when shit got tough. If they had been together, sure, Ian would've been a lot shittier for leaving Mickey alone. But as it was, they were broken up, and even if they hadn't been, Ian would've had every right to not want to continue seeing Mickey after his decision to harm Sammi, just as Lip was justified in not wanting to be with Mandy anymore after she ran over Karen.

Secondly, Ian dating Caleb wasn't bad for his character. In fact, I think their relationship in season six was actually a very interesting way to progress Ian's character and get more insight into his mind and how he operates.

Thirdly, Ian and Caleb's relationship deserves to be analyzed for what it is, rather than what it isn't. Just because Ian is not with Mickey doesn't mean that he doesn't undergo some huge development in this season, both in and outside his relationship with Caleb. Furthermore, Ian entering a new relationship gives us the opportunity to see more sides of his character, and as such the relationship should be analyzed as it's own separate entity, and not just as a hurdle in the way of Gallavich.

Fourth, Ian was not just waiting to cast Mickey aside to jump on the next dick possible. I've seen this criticism before, and when looking at his actual arc at the beginning of S6 and analyzing his general character, that's just simply not true. Entering a new relationship is not equal to immediately disregarding Mickey.

TL;DR: The hate Ian gets from this season mainly stems from "Ian date somebody aside from Mickey, bad Ian" without any further thought behind why he enters the relationship and what the relationship actually means to him. There is no separation in the minds of fans between Ian and Mickey, and therefore, Ian having experiences and an identity outside of Mickey is negatively perceived.

Season Seven: Putting His Own Wellbeing First

This one will be less long winded than the previous one, because I have less to say on it, honestly.

During the entirety of Ian's bipolar arc, it is pretty clearly shown that to maintain mental wellness, Ian needs stability.

When Mickey shows up and asks Ian to run away with him to Mexico, that's threatening to uproot every amount of stability Ian has managed to secure the past two seasons of the show.

I honestly don't see as much hate directed toward Ian for his decision to leave Mickey at the border as I see for his previous decisions. I'd say the main thing I actually see directed toward this season is just that Ian's story is boring without Mickey in it. Mostly because he enters another new relationship with Trevor after his relationship with Caleb, which really just follows the cyclical Shameless cycle of, "Don't know what to do with a character? Give them a new love interest!" But because I talked about the judgement for non-Gallavich Ian relationships above, I don't particularly feel like doing a deep dive into the Ian and Trevor relationship in this meta.

What I want to talk about relates to the Mickey Mexico storyline, though, and that's the hate other characters recieve for trying to dissuade Ian from going.

After finding out that Mickey escaped from prison, Fiona and Ian have the following conversation:

"What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. You ever, uh, think about about what would've happened if you'd run off with Jimmy-Steve?"

"Lying sociopath Jimmy-Steve? My life would be a nonstop psycho-thriller. I definitely dodged a bullet with that one."

"What if nothing ever gives you that same thrill again? Still feel like you dodged a bullet?"

"I don't know. Probably. Where's this coming from?"

"Things have been weird between me and Trevor since Mickey got out."

"You mean since Mickey busted out of prison and has got half the Chicago Police Department circling the Southside looking for him."

"Can't get him out of my head. Just trying to stop myself from doing something I shouldn't."

"You turned your life around. Mickey would set a match to it. You've done really great without him, and I'm really fucking proud of you."

- Ian and Fiona, S7E10.

I've seen this conversation criticized many times because of how "unfairly" Mickey is treated in this scene. But I truly think that nothing said in this scene was wrong, and Fiona was 100% right.

In the past, Fiona has definitely shown a prejudice against the Milkovich family before. Specifically with Mandy, Fiona seems to look down upon her and disapproves of the relationship between her and Lip. This on its own is unfair treatment and is annoying to witness.

But in this particular case, absolutely nothing she is saying is wrong or biased simply because Mickey is a Milkovich.

People take the line, "Mickey would set a match to it," and compare it to his behavior in late Season 4 through season 5, where Mickey is taking care of Ian, and say that Fiona is being untruthful or hypocritical. If Mickey had never been sent to prison, or even if he had just been released legally, and Ian was simply thinking about cheating on Trevor and getting back with Mickey instead of running away with him, then the criticism toward Fiona would be more justified. But as it is, Mickey is a wanted fugitive, and Ian running away with him would make Ian a fugitive as well, and WOULD effectively set a match to the life Ian had spent the past two seasons working toward. He would be giving up a career he worked hard for and fought to have, he'd be living in stressful conditions on the run, he'd have no support system, and he would have less ease of access to his medication. Running with Mickey would have been the wrong decision for Ian's wellbeing, and honestly, Mickey should never have asked Ian to go with him.

I think that many people have rose colored glasses on when it comes to Gallavich, specifically with Mickey, and that makes it harder to view these moments unbiased. But, looking at it objectively, Mickey was so wrong for asking Ian to come with him to Mexico. He KNOWS that Ian needs stability with his bipolar diagnosis, and he KNOWS that this would be a stressful life he'd be forcing Ian into.

Simply put, he's acting selfishly in that moment. Having your own interests in mind is not always a bad thing, but in this specific case, Mickey would have thrown a huge wrench into Ian's life is Ian hadn't made decisions in HIS best interest.

Again, I have less to say on this as I did other subjects, because to me it feels much more cut and dry. Mickey was in the wrong here 100%, Fiona was not being wrongfully judgmental toward Mickey, and Ian was not in the wrong for not going with Mickey.

After so long of seeing them apart, it makes sense to want to see them together again. So when Ian, again, is the one making the decision to end their relationship, fans are going to lash out at him and those around him.

But it's important to put aside biases and allow your favorite character to be in the wrong occasionally. Mickey is not perfect, and criticism against him, both from characters in the show and fans, is not unfounded nor unjustified.

TL;DR: Mickey was wrong for asking Ian to uproot his life and run to Mexico, and calling that out isn't defamation of his character.

To End This Yap Session:

Ian is by no means a faultless character, and he is not exempt from criticism both inside and outside of his relationship with Mickey. However, I often feel that the criticism he faces is for the wrong reasons, and not much contemplation or exploration is done on him as much as it is for Mickey.

I love Mickey. He's an amazingly complex character, and his relationship with Ian is one of my favorite parts of the show. But in being a complex character, he is also an imperfect character.

I feel that many fans get very protective over their favorite characters, to the point that anything that goes against that character's interests is labeled as bad, and any criticism toward his character is disregarded immediately.

In this particular case of Gallavich, I feel that post season three, fans often see things from Mickey's point of view without looking at Ian's as much. This meta was simply to give my own thoughts on Ian's most "controversial" moments among fans. Obviously this is mostly condensed to season six and his relationship with Caleb, which I feel is the biggest example of jumping to conclusions and only seeing the surface level of his character.

However, I would like to acknowledge that Ian is also an insanely popular character in the Shameless fandom. While he is misunderstood in many instances, he is given much more sympathy and understanding than many other characters in the show, especially many of the female characters. This long-winded meta is only focused on the concerning tendency for fans to link Ian's identity to Mickey entirely without allowing him to be an individual, but a majority of the time he is still a beloved character who is treated favorably by fans. Compared to a character like Debbie, Ian sees much more support, and I feel that the energy I put toward this meta and trying to understand Ian should also be applied to (almost) EVERY character in the show.

Anyways feel free to leave thoughts.

#shameless #shameless meta #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #monica gallagher #shameless caleb #shameless trevor #gallavich #does any of this really matter? no probably not cause at the end of the day its a silly tv show #but i find it personally interesting to think about so i made a long ass meta about it #but its seriously not that deep so fandom discussion is great #but if the stans take my post to twitter and grill me like my dbh meta i will get gen mad lol #also sorry to the ppl who follow me for dbh ive def fallen off that hyperfixation at this point in time #this could've been cleaned up a bit but ive had this in my drafts for like 3 weeks or more so

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pipperoo · 3 days ago

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finally finished fantasy high junior year and of course my brain had to, against my will, start making an au for the npmd guys. it's so bad that i literally had to doodle some of them

this au is still very much in its infancy and might probably stay there, but i had some ideas for these guys. richie is also included in this au, i'm still working out the kinks for his design

but essentially it would start with the six main characters starting their freshman year at some adventuring academy and after some event, are forced to be in a party together for the rest of the year. they all really don't like each other at the beginning, but eventually grow closer as they uncover the evils that have taken root in hatchetfield (this is just the vague synopsis)

steph is a high elf sorcerer, grace is an aasimar cleric, ruth is a half orc bard, pete is a firbolg wizard, max is a tiefling barbarian, and, honestly, still kinda struggling with what richie would be, for now, he's an air genasi rogue (very much could change) [below are their basic designs, which turned out not too bad]

i'll put more of my idea below the cut, but this au may not be really fleshed out completely anytime soon, gotta a lot of wips with little time on my hands. but check it out if you're interested (and, this is probably a long shot, but if you have ideas for richie, i would love them!! please)

Just to be very clear, this is a DND au, specifically an au of Fantasy High which is a Dimension 20 show that I love very dearly. A lot of the worldbuilding would be heavily based on that world (so I use some terms that are from fantasy high throughout this, but I think it's still very understandable if you haven't watched any of it. But if you don't know a lot about DND, this may not make the most sense) But, I still have Hatchetfield twists and this is mainly my own story I'm coming up with, there's inspirations, but still mostly my own.

I'm, first of all, imagining that Hatchetfield is much like Elmville and exists in Spyre as some modern town. So all kinds of species and magic exist in this world. Most of the people are raised up as adventurers like any DND world.

So, basicially the big bad would be the lords in black. They would operate as gods that are in the same pantheon and pretty much share power with each other. Wiggly would operate as the leader, but they are equal in regards to strength. The one being keeping them in check and preventing them from taking over the world is Webby. They once existed in the same pantheon before Webby left. She and her few remaining followers aim to counter their ploys.

The Lords would give anything to eliminate Webby, but as long as she has followers that remember her name and believe in her, she remains a God. They are constantly trying to hunt down followers of Webby, but they are far too elusive.

But, there still remains a chance for the Lords to stop Webby once and for all and purge the world of her followers. There is a prophecy. (I don't have the exact wording yet) Essentially it claims that one of the Lords' devotees will have a child that is imbued with Webby's powers at birth. On the first blood moon after their fifteenth birthday, the child has the choice to devote themselves to the Lords or be sacrificed in the Lords' names. Either way, the Lords will finally be given the power to strike down Webby for good. With the child, they'll have an edge over Webby that they can capitalize on. The child devoting themselves would be making a warlock pact and sacrificing is sacrificing. Until this child is born, the Lords wait.

The devotees are, of course, the Church of the Starry Children. They are devoted to the entire pantheon. I'm still debating the exact people involved, but the Youngs, the Monroes, and Solomon Lauter are for sure there. They operate in secrecy, also waiting for this child to be born. In the meantime they try to gain higher up positions within the town so they can aid in the taking over the world when it occurs. Solomon is the mayor.

As another avenue for the Lords to gain more power, they gain individual followings. They do this by tricking their followings into believing they are some different god. The heads of these individual churches know who the real god is, but no one else. The corruption runs deep in Hatchetfield.

One of the centerpieces of Hatchetfield is the adventuring academy (place holder name is Blim's Battling Academy) ((Jeff Blim would be the principal)). This is a place that acts as the highschool where young adventurers learn how to succeed in their chosen class.

The character at the heart of the story, that's at the center of it all, is Stephanie Lauter. She is a High Elf, like her father, and she was born as a Divine Soul (chaos affinity) Sorcerer (as the nepo baby she is). She is the child from the prophecy, but does not know about it and doesn't know what her father really does. She's had that white streak in her hair since birth. She is not thrilled to be going to school and being forced to join a party. She has that same rebellious spark from the musical and hates authority just as much. She has some grasp on her abilities, but knows very little of why she was given these powers and from who. Though she won't admit it, she wants more of an understanding and she doesn't often feel worthy of these powers because she did nothing to earn them. She's disliked her father ever since her mother vanished without a trace one day and he refused to tell her what happened. (That was due to some Nibbly stuff)

The next important character is Grace Chasity. She was born as an aasimar to human parents. She was seen as a blessing to them. Her celestial heritage shows through her white hair and white freckles. She was raised in Blinky's pretend church (I still need a name for what Grace believes it to be.) She is a Domain of Order Cleric. She believes that following her deity is the best way to go and has some superiority complex because of it. She does have one secret though, that her parents have always urged her to keep hidden. She is a fallen aasimar which means that her divine energy manifests as a necrotic shroud and through skeletal, flightless wings that appear on her back. (This occurs when they were touched by dark powers in their youth which was Blinky in her case, but Modify Memory was used on her, so she doesn't remember it) She fully believes this darkness is who she is and will do anything to cover that up.

Another character that is pretty fleshed out is Max Jägerman. He is a red tiefling that was born to his human father and tiefling mother. Max also lost his mother to something when he was younger. He is a Path of the Zealot Barbarian. After Max's mom vanished, his father turned mean and distant. The only path to gain his attention was through worshipping his deity (Wiggly). Max himself doesn't have as much understanding or faith in this God, kept in the dark a lot. He only does it to appease his father and that is so strong he gets the same effects as if he was worshipping the deity directly. When he rages he gets a little radiant damage bonus to his attacks. He is still the same asshole from the musical, like he seriously sucks and is a massive bully (honestly, kinda like Ragh before his redemption arc), but he didn't go to middle school with any of the characters. (The plot hinges on the fact that none of them really know each other.) He is, of course, a major player on the blood rush team (this world's version of football)

For the nerdy trio I have less fleshed out ideas, I also want them to have a tie to the cult, but I still need more time to think on it.

Ruth is a Half Orc, born to half orcs (her tusks are kinda supposed to like the head gear she wore, though I might still give her head gear). She's never felt compelled to use her natural given strength and instead finds that her passion points more to theater and learning to be a bard. She still is very anxious, so her Charisma is not the best and therefore she's not a very good bard yet. She is a College of Spirits Bard. She's not the best with persuading others and her connection to spirits further ostracizes her. She doesn't have the best control over the spirits she conjures. Her arc would be about gaining the confidence to be a true bard and to step into her potential. There could be a possible Pokey connection too.

Pete is a firbolg, like the rest of his family. He is a a Chronurgy (time manipulation magic) Wizard (this is from the Explorer's Guide to Wildmount, so Critical Role, but I think I'm still going to go with it because it fits him too well). He has no idea where these time manipulation powers have come from, they're sometimes out of his control. He likes to keep his head down in his studies, to be invisible. He is still reeling from the disappearance of his brother, who vanished without a trace, he also had shown some Chronurgy abilities before he was gone. He sometimes pokes around and look for answers, but nothing has come up yet. He doesn't have a good feeling about it. (Tinky would be Pete's connection).

And for Richie, I still need to think of his basic arc, I really don't know yet. For now, he's an Air Genasi and a Scout Rogue, but that is not set in stone. I think he would definitely be a rogue, but he could be a phantom rogue and have that connection to Ruth with the spirit stuff. Again, would love other opinions!

So, basically the main plot is them having a Bad Kids situation where they all get detention or miss out on choosing a party and they're all forced to be in a party together. There are a lot of contentions in the beginning, but they begin to unfold the mystery of the church of the starry children and the prophecy Steph's in. They get closer as they share their insecurities and help each other grow from them. The ending would be them facing down the cult and stop Steph from playing her role in the prophecy. (The loophole is that Steph has the choice, she's not forced to make a choice. She still has the option to opt out and stop them from gaining her power.) I also have Grace discovering the origins of her religion and choosing to change deities. Right now, she changes domains to the Tempest Domain (basically going from order to the natural chaos of storms because Grace is more unhinged than not and she should be free to have that chaos) Pete finds out where Ted went, Tinky got him, and where his abilities stem from (i think he would eventually switch classes to multiclass artificer, but that would probably happen sometime later). Max faces off with his dad and learns the truth about his deity. Ultimately will stand against him and start the process of finding another source for his rage (most likely Path of the Totem Warrior and choosing the wolf as his totem spirit)

The only ship I currently have is Steph/Grace, from what I set up, it's kinda the obvious choice. They have contentions because Grace is struggling with being a fallen aasimar and Steph, who did nothing for her powers, automatically having this divine energy. Something that was not given to Grace regarding her heritage when all she does is maintain faith. And that hits a sore spot for Steph because she deep down doesn't believe she deserves it either, but has it regardless. She wishes she had the choice for her class, that she wasn't stuck, and hates that Grace had the option and chose that. That's what I have so far (Grace also has those contentions with Max because of his faith and how, despite the fact he's a tielfing and asshole, he's still gifted something radiant, but these two will just be friends) More ships may be added, but who knows

This is what I have so far, I may continue with this and may even write it one day, but not in the near future at all. I want to make each of the storylines more equal, it seems like I have a lot of focus on some but that's only because those ideas came pretty easily first. Steph is the heart, but I want more balance and more plot given to the nerdy trio. Again, if you have an idea for Richie (Please) or any other ideas for this, I'd love to hear it!!! And, thank you for reading it to this point, I ended up having a lot more than I thought!!

#hatchetfield #grace chasity #max jagerman #ruth fleming #peter spankoffski #stephanie lauter #richie lipschitz #npmd au #npmd #pip’s rambles #this kinda got out of hand #i really love dnd and this was a great way to combine all of my obsession!!#i even don't hate my drawings that much #Even tried to color them a little #i really need to stop with these new ideas and focus on the ones in front of me #also first time drawing pete ruth and max!#can’t believe it took so long #lautity #its still so scary posting drawings and my au idea ahhh

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angelwishess · 2 days ago

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Random funfacts about the Floyra kids bcs I need to ramble abt them!!!!

And Idk when I’ll be able to make their intro posts HELP

Just like her mama, Alora attracts creatures too! …Except, they aren’t cute, little forest critters, but instead terrifying monsterous beasts. Yeah…

She took the “Beast Tamer” thing literally it seems, because anytime theres a magical beast lurking around, Alora can somehow always manage to tame it. She thinks they’re “cute” and likes to dress them up! Just like how Kyra used to ask for assistance with the critters, Alora does the same with the beasts!

Alora is actually very talented in wrestling, and she may or may not have a sleeper build… (This was inspired by Japanese wrestler Mizuki!)

Evelio is actually the most prone to mood swings amongst the Leech siblings! Though he may be able to hide his emotions better than his painfully honest siblings, he’s still the most moody of the bunch.

Growing up, Kyra taught the kids to play chess. But not the traditional kind of chess, no— She taught them how to play ‘Chess Anarchy’. A silly version of the game where there are basically no rules. The only way to win was to create a better excuse than your opponent for the ridiculous moves you do.

Because of this, Marven used to always win at chess against Evelio. After all, he’s always been too creative for his own good!

Both twins were suprised when they found out there was a tradition version of chess and, surprisingly, even Evelio disliked it. The Leech siblings found the original game boring. The only reason Evelio even likes it a little bit, is because its the only time he can beat Marven at chess lmao

Chimere dyes her hair ALOT. Im talking new month, new hair color!! She just cant stick to one thing, and that goes for style, too! Her aesthetic is constantly changing, and its just as restless as she is!

Chimere is a busy body who likes to burn energy by taking on odd jobs around campus. Anyways, shes a Jack of All Trades and a ridiculously quick learner, and she uses that to her advantage all the time!

She’ll do a favor or two for you as well, if you have a good payment! …Money? Pfft! Of course not! She expects something cool or fun in return, maybe a part of your soda cap collection, or a random playing card. Your choice, just don’t make it “boring”.

Chimere is also a total party animal, and enjoys any kind of festivity! Honestly, its like she brings the party wherever she is though, her endless energy is simply infectious!

Chimere dabbles in ballet, too! She loves all dancing in general though, and thought it’d be fun to try a new style! Dancing is her favorite thing to do, after all!

Chimere is a Ribbon Eel! Yeah, Chimere was actually adopted by Kyra and Floyd! I decided to give them one more just because RibbonEel was one of Floyra’s possible other ship names, and thought the idea of Kyra and Floyd just randomly snatching up a kid with no parents was too funny to miss out on.

Maven is a flirt. It probably ties in with his whole ‘wannabe rockstar’ thing, but he just loves the swell of pride in his chest when he knows someone is charmed by him. Don’t get him wrong, he’s not a playboy! He won’t ever pursue any of the people he flirts with (well, except for one…), he just likes to flirt!

…However, Marven is actually quite ashamed of this ngl WHAHAHAH, only because he feels guilty when the thought of what his mama would think about it crosses his mind. He may be a flirt— but please don’t tell his mom!! He’d rather die than let her know!

Whenever shes around, Marven straightens up immediately! Buttoning up his blouse and acting like hes done nothing wrong… But Evelio knows. And he uses it as black mail 😭

While the twins are both in the Spelldrive Club, Marven has his own band! Hes a vocalist and plays electric guitar— his favorite! (Mostly because it makes him ‘look cool’.)

Marven… Really just likes anything that makes him look cool. Thats his reason for most things he does, honestly… (Evelio says hes pathetic LMFAO)

He may look rough around the edges but the truth is Marven is probably the nicest out of his siblings! No matter how tough he tries to act, if you ask him enough he’ll probably eventually cave and ‘bregrudgingly’ help out.

Alora may be eager to help out— but her unpredictability and eccentricity usually makes the whole situation go completely wrong. She does try her best, but… Her methods are rather strange.

Evelio is actually very unorganized. He can never find whatever he last put down, especially in his room.

Marven, on the other hand, is amazing at finding things! Its like he can find anything, really. (Evelio always has to ask for his help). His own room is unorganized too, but its more like organized chaos. He knows where everything is, he just doesnt bother to clean up if he doesnt feel like it HAHA

Marven is clingy as hell. He’d be one of those kids that check on his parents’ location on an app and call them if they leave without telling them anything😭😭

Evelio is actually the same way, but he just wont admit it.

Chimere is always on some random side quest. You can barely find her in the same place as before, always running off to go on some sort of adventure elsewhere. She seeks out fun and adrenaline just as much as Kyra did!

Alora loves LOVESS to jumpscare people. She’ll appear out of nowhere and spook them. Its all in good fun, though! In her eyes, they’re all just playing.

#🎀! yap #🎸🖤! marven #📚🩷! evelio #👻🍬! alora #🩰🪩! chimere #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst oc #twst fankids #oc x canon fankids

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dooberific · 5 hours ago

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❝ 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘎𝘶𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘋𝘢𝘺𝘴 (𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘪𝘮 𝘉𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘖𝘯𝘦) ❞

harumasa x afab!pubsec!reader

genre: slice of life, hurt w comfort, vengeful woman meets silly man, reader is intentionally insane so get ready to cringe and die on the inside right alongside her, suggestive

summary: your heart has been broken a few too many times, and he’s broken a few too many hearts. the perfect flip side to each other’s coins, surely nothing bad could happen if you both accept silly bets.

wc: 11.2 k, I rocked my own shit w this trust me, but I was inspired by cinema

There is a flip side to every coin, another half to every story, a perfect balance in nature between opposing forces.

On one side was him, and on the other, you.

The bar was busy, brimming with a number of people. Business men with loosened ties enjoying a round after a long day, young women out for an evening on the town to celebrate, officers you recognized personally taking a load off their minds after a busy shift. The energy was relaxed, but maybe it was just the martini you nursed as you leaned against the bar talking.

“Trust me, there is not a single woman in this bar who would think any less of you.” Zhu Yuan slurred, stirring her own drink, a flush of red already creeping up the sides of her neck.

She was referring to the woes in which you confided with her. As your closest friend through the police academy, she had been unshakeable even as your rank advanced past her own. You had worried that things would change after your last promotion, that when you took the seat of Janus Quarter Commander of PubSec with the revelation of Bringer’s corruption that your relationship would become strained but that fear had long abated. She was just the same as ever, another loveless soul keeping you company, another person rather hopeless when it came to relationships.

She plucked the toothpick from her glass, the wooden stick garnished with olives as she pointed it at you. “What you need, is to start taking back.”

She drew an olive off the stick with her teeth, chewing it thoughtfully. “‘s not fair, you are wayyy too good of a girl to be toyed with like this.”

Your head hung. She was right, it really didn’t seem fair. You were successful, had a good job, and you liked to think your personality and looks weren’t half bad. But there was just something in the equation that was missing, some integral piece that left you chronically unable to keep a man for more than a week. It was nothing short of a mystery, one that slowly chipped away at your self esteem despite your best efforts.

“What do you suggest I do?” You mused, head raising as you took a sip of your drink.

Zhu Yuan shrugged, head swiveling as she surveyed the crowded bar, plucking another olive from the toothpick in her glass. She gasped as if struck with some brilliant plan, head whipping back in your direction.

“You need to go find a guy.”

Your face instantly went stony. “I’m not following.”

“No, no, you need to go find a guy. Play with him a bit, make yourself a real dream girl in his eyes, then give him a taste of his own medicine. Drop his ass before he can even wrap his head around what happened, and leave him running for the hills.”

“That’s diabolical,” you countered, turning to lean your back against the bar so you could survey the room, glass raised back to your painted lips.

“I love it.”

At the same bar, at the same time, sat the other side of your coin, a can of some bitter melon soda leaving a ring of condensation on the table by his elbow. He didn’t drink much, ya know “alcohol is bad when you take a lot of medication”, but he didn’t mind the social aspect of a bar scene when things seemed promising.

There were a couple other HSO officers milling around aside from the ones he accompanied, Miyabi and Yanagi both perched at the table with him. He was hoping to get some leg up on things at the office with this little excursion, a little leverage to use on Yanagi next time she smugly refuses his time off request, but the conversation had rapidly devolved in a way that he could have done without.

“You need to be more thoughtful, Asaba.” Yanagi chided, the lens on her glasses flashing momentarily under the bar lighting as she adjusted her glasses.

“I understand that you have personal issues you don’t like to discuss, but this serial dating thing you’re doing is starting to impact more than just yourself.”

He groaned dramatically. “C’mon Tsukishiro, I didn’t think she would show up at the office like that. I told you she was,” his finger raised circling his temple to emphasize his point, “crazy.”

Yanagi’s brow furrowed, glare deepening as she crossed her arms.

“And what about the one who staged a stake out in the parking lot in front of my car?”

He shrugged. “She was insecure.”

“And what, the poor girl before that was just some clinical sociopath?”

“Maybe?”

“She was the mailroom girl! She was totally normal! Asaba you can’t just blame everything on them. At some point you need to take responsibility for your part in it too. That’s why,” she pulled a folded stack of papers from her bag, tossing them on the table.

“I won’t be accepting any of your leave requests until you can prove to me you can keep a relationship longer than a week.”

Yanagi may as well have dropped a brick on his head from some great height from the way he reacted.

“Tsukishiro!”

“No, Asaba, I’m not backing off on this. You have to prove yourself, but I am willing to make a deal with you. If you can date a girl of my choice for ten days and she be willing to say you were nothing but an absolute peach, then I will approve you for a solid week of leave. No questions asked.”

He perked up. “No questions asked, huh? Deal.”

Yanagi grinned evilly as she turned in her seat, scanning the crowd within the bar with a thoughtful hum. There were plenty of options, both good and bad but of all those present she was drawn rather conclusively to the figure leaned against the bar, a tasteful yet flirtatiously cut dress hugging her figure perfectly as she sipped her drink.

The Public Security Commander for the Janus Quarter?

Yes, you would do well to make his life miserable, she thought as she pointed a manicured nail in your direction.

“I want you to go talk to her.”

His golden eyes sparkled with mischief as he rose from his seat, popping another button on his shirt as he loosened his tie.

“Bet.”

Day One - Make Him Crave You

You had somewhat unsuccessfully prowled the bar for your victim. Too many duds and married men, and you considered yourself above being a homewrecker. No need to kill someone else’s happiness, it wasn’t the respectable married folk who saw it fit to drag your heart through the mud.

You were all too ready to give up and call it a night as you leaned against the wall. Going home and slipping off your heels and enjoying a greasy pizza on your couch was sounding much better than revenge at the moment, but it seemed fate had a different plan.

He was tall enough that he still maintained a few inches of height on you even in your heels, a fair complexion complemented with a mess of curled black hair. His face seemed familiar, though you hadn’t fully placed it in the time it took you to meet his eye and him to arrive at your side.

You grinned over the rim of your glass. “Hi.”

He echoed your sentiment, a smile on his face as he stopped just within your personal bubble. Interested already? A good sign. Him being handsome was an added bonus, smoldering honeyed eyes warming you from the inside out. Hm, maybe too handsome.

“(y/n) (l/n).”

“Asaba Harumasa.”

Oh shit. He was an HSO executive officer, no wonder you found his face familiar, but if he knew you his face didn’t give it away.

“Cute.” You murmured, taking care to bat your lashes.

“Thank you.”

“I meant your name.”

His brow raised, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Thank you twice then.”

“Single?”

“Currently.”

“Surprising.”

He hummed, giving you a once over. He was bold, you would give him that. “Same. Psycho?”

“Rarely.”

“Interested?”

“Maybe.”

You could practically see the thrill of the chase burning him alive, his lopsided grin relaxed even as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Leaving?”

“With you? Only if you ask nicely.”

“Please?”

You held up a finger. “You’ve charmed me, one moment.”

You slipped past him and back to the bar, sidling up to Zhu Yuan as you passed her your glass. “Got one. Black hair, choker.” You giggled, as her head whipped over her shoulder to where you just came.

“Shit, (y/n), an HSO officer?” She threw back the rest of her drink before snatching up yours. “Good luck, girl, call me when you make it home?”

“Of course,” you bumped her with your hip as you grinned, “See you tomorrow~.”

You would admit that you had low expectations for dinner, after all, he was just some loser you met in a bar, so a sit down meal was a real treat. The conversation flowed easily, discussing work, life, things you had in common, and before you knew it you were pressed against the door of his apartment with his tongue in your mouth and his hands on your ass.

He fumbled to get the lock undone, attention divided between the sloppy work of your lips hot against his mouth and a tiny keyhole that seemed much too difficult to overcome. The door gave way and you squeaked with surprise, as you stumbled backwards, hands stilled knotted in his hair as your back thumped against the door once more.

He laughed against your lips, the smear of your lipstick painted across his own. “Too fast?”

You nodded, your thumb brushing against his swollen lower lip. “Too fast.”

“Right…too fast,” he wasn’t listening and you supposed you weren’t either because you didn’t argue when he kissed you again, your fingers knotting into the back of his shirt. He rocked his hips against yours and you moaned against his lips, his tongue snaking into your mouth. He tasted like the gum you gave him after dinner.

Your hands slid down to rest against his chest. Despite his lithe stature you could feel the muscles beneath his thin work shirt as you pushed him away.

“I’ll see you around, Harumasa.” You said as you slipped past him and back into the hallway, peeking coyly over your shoulder at him. “Do yourself a favor and call me sometime.”

You grinned as you exited back onto the street, the air crisp in your lungs like the world was congratulating you on your skill. Now it would be a waiting game, waiting on your phone to ring once he realizes you left your purse sitting on the floor of his apartment.

You hoped he was a praying man, because he would need all the help he could get.

Day Two - Be the Cool Girl

Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you worked on a new project submitted to your office. So far things had been quiet, but you expected that to not last much longer with how your cellphone sat perched beside you on the desk.

It rang once, twice, and you answered on the third, leaning back in your seat with a grin.

“Pray tell what I’ve done to be graced with a call from you today?” You hummed, a lock of your hair curling around your finger as he laughed on the other end of the line.

“You left your purse at my place.”

“Ohh, yeah I can’t believe I left it there.”

“I just figured you might want it back with all the cash, credit cards and those… reverb arena tickets for the New Eridu Underground Target Archery Club Finals for tonight.”

“Sounds like somebody’s been going through my bag.”

His head rolled lazily to the side where he sat at home on his couch, your bag on the coffee table. “No, you see my cat is super curious and knocked it off the counter where I put it last night and dumped it out.”

The cat, once resting quietly at his side now looked up at him as if it understood his words. He scratched its chin as it purred.

“If you insist, but you’ll be disappointed because I’m going with someone else.”

“Not anymore you’re not. I don’t think you left your purse here on accident, if you ask me I think you subconsciously wanted to take me out again tonight.”

Zhu Yuan would be disappointed but you were sure she would understand, it was for the greater good in the grand scheme of things after all.

You hummed. “Alright then, mister psychic, I will see you at the street entrance at seven o’clock?”

“You got it~.”

The entrance to the Reverb Arena was busier than usual when you arrived, waving to Harumasa who already stood waiting for you, your purse in his hand.

“Fancy meeting you here.” You called with grin, receiving your purse back as he extended it to you, his eyes trained momentarily on your shirt.

“Didn’t take you as a fan of the New Eridu Archery club.” He said as he nodded towards the graphic emblazoned across the front of your shirt.

“I’m just fond of the Janus Quarter team.” You countered.

“No kidding,” He fished a card from his wallet as he passed it to you. The faded blue plastic was stamped with the archery club’s insignia, the back etched with his name and member number. Looks like you would be dodging any price inflation tonight, members of the club received certain perks after all.

“Consider the rest of your evening on me then.”

The arena was crowded as you had expected for the first night of the finals, but your seats were perfect despite the swell of other bodies pressing you close to his side. Part of you had thought it would be a less sought after event, but the crowd rapidly energized as the event continued to the final rounds of the night.

You eyes trailed from the ring to your date, his eyes laser focused on the match. You almost felt a little guilty when you shook his arm.

“Haru, Haru? I’m really thirsty, could you go get me a drink?”

He blinked down at you like he had been in a haze, eyes momentarily darting back to the ring. “Right now?”

You nodded, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“A diet cola with no ice, please.”

You mustered up your cutest expression as he begrudgingly nodded and got up, pushing his way past the other patrons before making a mad dash to the concession counter. Your grin had turned malicious within moments as you returned to watching the match.

He was back within a minute or two, handing you your drink as you thanked him and recounted some of the tense final moments as you sipped your drink once, twice.

It was the true final match of the night now, and you had your diet cola in your hand. You elbowed his side.

“Haru, this isn’t diet.”

His head snapped in your direction. “What?”

“This isn’t diet, Haru please I’m so thirsty!”

He did his best to hide it but you could see the frustration crease his brow as he took your cup and disappeared again.

The match was over by the time he made it back, your drink in his hands as you thanked him profusely, snuggling up at his side as you walked out.

The crowd filtered out across the street as you emerged from the underground, tossing your cup with a practiced hand into the wastebasket.

“Are you busy tomorrow, we could watch a movie or something?” He offered in an attempt to salvage the mood.

You squeezed his arm a little tighter, turning your head to peer up at him. “Sounds like a date, I’ll see you then.”

Day Three - Be Clingy

When you met up in front of Gravity Cinema in Lumina Square he had some notion of what you would be watching. Plenty of new movies had hit the box office recently, enough variety that he was sure you could find something agreeable and not painful to sit through.

You looked happy as you stood beside him in the line, eyes dancing across the titles by the ticket booth. There were plenty of good options, things you wanted to see on your own that you were sure he would find entertaining like a new comedy that brought tears to your eyes just seeing the trailer on tv.

“What do you wanna see?” He asked, bumping your shoulder fondly.

“Hmm,” you tapped a thoughtful finger to your chin. “I want to see…that one.”

A rerun of Coffee Mate wasn’t what he was expecting, but you looked quite pleased with the situation as you enjoyed your popcorn beside him. The theater was full of couples or groups of friends enjoying the nostalgia of the rom-com, all engrossed in the film. He wouldn’t lie, his own interest was also growing.

You looked over at him, the warm tones of the movie screen casting a sepia glow over his cheeks. You might be a little disappointed by the end of your little escapade, he was one of the more handsome men you had dated.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm?” He looked over at you.

“What are you thinking about?”

“The movie?” His confusion was evident in his tone as his eyes darted from the screen back to your face.

“So you’re just completely thoughtless?”

A man in the row behind you shushed you loudly, shooting you both a glare yet you didn’t relent.

Harumasa looked rather taken aback. “No, sorry baby, I was just thinking about…how pretty you are, now hush and let’s just watch the movie. You said you loved this one, right?”

You sat your popcorn down, brows furrowing as you turned in your seat to face him.

“Who is she?”

“Who’s who?”

“First you’re thoughtless, now you’re an owl? I said who is she? You’re obviously not thinking about me right now.”

The man behind you kicked your seat as he hushed you again, and you turned to face him, a wrathful look on your face.

“Listen buddy, if you interrupt me one more time my boyfriend is going to beat your ass.”

He looked from you to Harumasa, the latter’s face decorated with a nervous smile as he quickly assessed that it was in fact a fight he didn’t want to have any part in.

“Let’s go then.”

You grabbed at Harumasa’s arm as you followed him out of the theater. “Haru, baby don’t fight him.” You pleaded.

“I don’t have any intention of fighting him, this is all just a big misunderstanding.”

But misunderstandings usually didn’t end with a kiss from another person’s knuckles being planted firmly against your nose. He stumbled back, hand cupping his nose as blood began to pour from between his fingers and down his chin.

The man pointed harshly at the both of you as you rushed to Harumasa’s side.

“Nobody gets between me and Coffee Mate!”

He was strangely impassioned as he stormed back into the theater, leaving you alone as your hands cupped Harumasa’s face.

“Let me see,” you cooed sweetly as you pried his fingers away from his nose. His eyes were watering from the sting of the hit, blood smearing down his face and dripping onto his shirt in crimson blossoms.

You fished through your bag for a moment before you produced a few tissues, cursing internally that your pack was almost empty and that your luck was rotten enough to have seated you in front of someone willing to take a swing in passion over a romcom rerun movie.

It was bleeding more from one side than it was the other, a rivulet of thick blood streaming almost instantaneously after you wipe his upper lip clean. You apologized about a hundred times as you pulled a tampon from your purse, unwrapping it before shoving the cotton up his nose as he grimaced.

“What the hell is this?” He questioned, the taste of iron washing down the back of his throat as his fingers grasped the little woven tail on the tampon to bring it to eye level.

“Don’t worry about it,” you grabbed his hands, ignoring the blood that smeared onto your own.

“You were so brave standing up to that guy!”

He blinked at you stupidly.

Day Four - Become his Manic Pixie Dream

His apartment was rather nice when the lights were on, surprisingly clean if the precise organization of his shoe rack by the door would be any indicator of the rest of his space.

He was busy in the kitchen, talking to you mindlessly as he worked. All the better for your cause, giddily kicking off your low heels as you perused the apartment. It felt like a man’s apartment, a little dark and sparse as far as decor went, and it smelled distinctly like herbs and anesthetic more akin to what you would expect of a pharmacy or apothecary than a home.

His chat chirped pleasantly from where it lay stretched across the couch, rising to arch its spine into your touch as you stroked its black fur.

“Don’t tell your dad that I’m redecorating,” you whispered as you sat down the box propped against your hip and produced a pair of stuffed animal cats stitched to be embracing.

The white fur on the toys reminded you a bit of Officer MewMew, but you found them endearing nonetheless, patting them on the head and you continued on your trek of evil. More cheesy stuffed animals, a flowery pink quilt across his bed, an array of girly magazines on the back of his toilet to match the pink toilet seat cover you placed.

By the time you returned from your side quest he was waiting for you by the table, eyeing the new creatures that sat on his couch curiously.

“Looks like you’ve been…redecorating.”

You smiled at him sweetly, “I just thought you could use a woman’s touch in here, isn’t it cute?” You reached into the box you still carried, dropping it to the side as you produced one last trick form your theoretical hat. A little fern in a pink pot bounced merrily in your hand.

“It’s a baby fern to mark the budding growth of our relationship! Just like us it will need lots of tender love and care to thrive.”

You placed it dead center on the table.

“And now you will have something to remind you of us all the time.”

Ugh, it made you want to hurl how silly and empty headed you had to act, but it was all for the glory of the hunt you reminded yourself. You had put up with some real bullshit in the past and still been hung out to dry, this was just a little payback inflicted upon a member of mankind.

He smiled and graciously accepted, but you could see the concern swimming in the hues of honey in his eyes as he pulled your chair out for you to sit.

“Yup, I’m a lucky guy for sure.”

He was ready to let it pass, the archery finals were about to start any minute and dinner was ready. Sure your change in attitude was a little…unique, but maybe you were just having an off night.

You sniffled and he paused, practically covering over his seat as he looked up at you. You sniffled again, fanning at your eyes.

“What’s wrong, (y/n)?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s perfect just—,”

“Just..?”

You blew your nose dramatically into your napkin as you turned your head away, voice warbling with tears. “I don’t eat meat.”

It was like being hit by a truck, his eyes bouncing between the precisely crafted chicken dish on your plate to your quivering shoulders and reddened eyes.

“A full week off, no questions asked. A full week off, no questions asked.” It was a mantra running through his head on repeat as he sat beside you in a tiny booth at the nearest vegan restaurant to his apartment.

He didn’t mind it he guessed, though as he picked through the tofu bowl sitting in front of him he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at the thought of the chicken now chilling in his fridge.

You seemed appeased though, your knee brushing against his under the table as you picked your own meal quietly. The waitress stopped by the table, topping off your glass of water.

“Something wrong with your meal, hon?” She asked, eyeing you curiously.

“No, no.” You answered quietly before he watched your face contort, your pitch rising into a sobbing tone as you threw your fork down.

“My boyfriend thinks I’m fat! And I can’t eat in front of him.”

“What!?” He said incredulously as you shot up from your seat, hands covering your face as you rushed into the bathroom at the back of the restaurant.

You locked yourself in a stall, wiping away your fake tears as you pulled up the stream of the archery finals for the night. Ah, what a disappointing loss for your favored archer, but you were sure that he was still having a better time than what your date was having as he sat in the dining room now, certainly insisting that he has never called you fat a day in your life.

The walk back from the restaurant was quiet. He seemed tired even as you followed him back into his apartment and flopped down onto his couch. The archery finals for the night blazed to life across his TV screen.

“I’m sorry we missed the finals tonight.” You apologized with your sweetest tone.

He sighed. “It’s okay, baby, let’s just see what happens.”

You scooted closer to him on the couch, a hand coming down to squeeze his thigh. He looked at you with a surprised expression, eyes widening behind dark lashes as you flipped yourself onto his lap. You loosened his tie as you popped the buttons on his shirt open down to his belt, nails trailing down the expanse of his stomach as he shuddered.

You kissed him, and he keened into your lips, hand coming to knot into your hair as you tugged his bottom lip between your teeth. You wiggled your hips against his lap, savoring the way his hand flexed against the meat of your thigh.

“What’s wrong, is somebody a wittle pent up?”

The baby talk took him by surprise, not really something he found to be attractive but if you were gonna shove your tongue into his mouth the way you just did and pull his hair well—some things could be overlooked in favor of others.

You broke from his lips, kissing down the side of his neck and to his clavicle, teeth nipping at his pale and tender skin. You were a vixen in your own right as you slid from his lap to your knees, a trail of kisses pressed from his sternum to his belt where your fingers deftly pulled the buckle loose.

“Poor wittle Haru~,” you cooed as you rested your cheek against his thigh and stared up at him from under your lashes, toying with his zipper. His body tensed as you palmed him through his pants, his hand curling into your hair as his breathing became labored.

“Does our little pwincess wanna come out and play~?”

You blinked in surprise at how quickly you were on your feet, his hands bracing your arms. His cheeks were dusted a hearty pink, the flush carried to his ears and the heady way his eyes dilated. He swallowed thickly.

“Please don’t do that.”

You cocked your head to the side dumbly. “Do what?”

You could practically see the internal war raging in his mind as he let out a shaky breath. There was no reasonable way he could explain it and not sound fucking insane.

“Please do not name my, uh,” he cleared his throat as he broke eye contact, “unmentionables.”

On the inside you were dying with laughter, struggling to keep your face straight as he fumbled around. So you pouted instead.

“Are you mad at me?”

His head hung in defeat. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

He was scrambling for an out, lost somewhere between hot and bothered and terribly disturbed by the tragic way events unfolded.

“Ohh would you look at the time,” he said glancing momentarily at the watch that wasn’t on his wrist before quickly snapping his hand back to his side. “You should really head home for the night, can’t have you wandering the streets too late. Someone might try to snatch you up or something.”

Was it bad that he momentarily thought it might not be all bad if you got kidnapped? They would definitely return you within an hour, just long enough for the casual and flirty you to vanish like a werewolf morphing under the moonlight into whatever you were now.

“I guess so…” your tone was mournful as he ushered you to the door and made sure you had all of your belongings.

You stood in the hallway outside his door, he still looked like a flushed mess as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Goodnight then, Haru.”

“Goodnight, (y/n). Get home safely.”

Day Five - Make Him Your “Cool Boy”

He desperately wanted to call it quits, throw in the towel and run away from you as fast as his legs could carry him. Did you have a split personality or did you just fall and hit your head and not receive medical attention sometime after you two first met? It was a toss up in his mind, but every day that he walked back into the office and saw the smirking expression of Tsukishiro as she asked, “How’s your girlfriend?” his pride would rear its ugly head and will him to continue.

It hadn’t even been a full week, he could handle a few more days. Then he made the mistake of answering his phone.

“Goodmorning Haru-waru~.”

Jesus Christ, maybe he was wrong. He was pretty sure his eyes rolled into the back of his skull as he pinched the bridge of his nose that was still bandaged from the movie date. You on the other hand had to mute your end of the call for the roar of laughter that came from Zhu Yuan who sat in your office listening in to your psychological torture fest.

He met Tsukishiro’s eye from across the room, a forced smile coming to his face as he waved and stood up to take his call in the hallway.

“Goodmorning, baby.” It sounded forced and he had to bite his tongue to make his tone sound more pleasant. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know, I was just thinking about you and how I got these tickets from a friend.” You baited, the tickets pinched between your fingers tapping against the smooth top of your desk. “The seats aren’t as good as the ones from the other night, but I thought you might wanna join me?”

He was torn, but relented, praying he wasn’t making a horrible mistake.

“What time?”

You were beaming as you waved at him. You were like a toxic fume disguised a breath of fresh air, hair and makeup done cutely. For a moment he willed himself to think the original you was back from the coy way you spoke, how you curled a lock of your hair around your finger as you walked arm-in-arm.

His reminder of your wicked nature came five minutes into the Astra Yao concert he now stood in the middle of, the base from the speakers rattling his bones as the crowd roared alongside the music.

You looked thrilled, bouncing beside him as you sang along to every song. It really was a treat for you to get to see her after all, and you wouldn’t disclose how much you spent to secure your tickets but it didn’t matter.

You were radiant under the purple and white stadium lights, your lip gloss shining as it caught the light. Your eyes were closed behind the ridiculous purple heart-shaped sunglasses some other girl in the crowd had handed you, an invisible microphone in your hand as you lived like no one was watching for just a moment. Maybe you seemed crazy, but did that really matter? He wouldn’t be hanging around much longer anyways. You could see the threads of his sanity snapping away with each passing day.

But today he was quiet as he watched you with a reverence your eyes wouldn’t see, the concert nothing shy of background noise compared to the beating of his heart in his ears and the slightly off-key sound of your voice as you sang and grew more hoarse by the minute. It was like wearing a pair of rose colored glasses, your previous infractions melting out of his mind as a glimpse of the real you shined through.

His ears were ringing as he followed you out of the venue at the end of the concert, a ridiculously glittery Astra Yao t-shirt now layered over his original shirt to match the one you donned. Your palm was warm clasped in his own as you pulled him through the crowd.

He forgot all about the archery finals till the patrons filtered out of the Reverb Arena onto the shared street, excitedly chattering about the winning shot.

Your head whipped over your shoulder as you smiled at him, sunglasses now perched on your head. “Wasn’t that fun?”

He didn’t have a chance to answer before you cut him off.

“Let’s make sure to play some of her songs at our wedding!”

And just like that those rose colored glasses shattered with frightening speed.

Day Six - Sabotage His Reputation at Work

His mind was a muddled mess as he sat listlessly at his desk the next day. Your unpredictability had not only shaken him to the core but disturbed him so deeply he was now in a constant state of unsteadiness, torn between wanting to chase that sliver of you that made his heart race and wanting to run from the other part that made him want to tear out his hair in frustration.

He pondered texting you, calling you even, but he didn’t know why. He sighed loudly, throwing his phone onto his desk as his head flopped over the back of his chair.

“Everything alright, Asaba?”

He glanced up at Yanagi, a cup of coffee waving temptingly in her hand as she placed it on his desk. “You look tired.”

“You have no idea.” He thanked her for the coffee, pulling the lid off as he took a sip. It was hot and bitter against his tongue, a soothing taste sure to inspire a short burst of vitality to his morning.

He didn’t bother to glance up as the door to the Section 6 suite hissed open.

“Goodmorning, Haru~.”

He sputtered and choked as he sucked coffee down his windpipe, quickly putting the cup down as he practically jumped from his seat.

“(y/n)!” He chimed back in a poor attempt to match your excitement as he hissed through his teeth. “What are you doing here?”

It was a shame you looked as cute as you did today, a perfect black plaid patterned skirt suit hugging your body just right as you practically bounced to his desk, pushing a stack of papers to the side as you perched on his desk with a smile.

“I just wanted to see you, silly!”

Oh. How lucky.

Everyone in the office was fully tuned into your conversation now, some (ahem, Soukaku and Miyabi) more obviously than others.

“I brought you a present by the way.” You reached into the large tote bag that you had brought along with you, producing a black plaid shirt that matched your own outfit.

“Here! Put it on!”

There was no getting out of it, you had practically dragged him closer as you tossed the shirt over his shoulders and forcefully helped him drag his arms through the sleeves as you buttoned it all the way up to his neck.

“My, Asaba, you’re certainly a vision in plaid.”

He glared at Tsukishiro over your shoulder, his eyes rolling fiercely at her jab before you drew his attention back to yourself.

“We are gonna make such a cute family of four.” You squealed.

“Family of four?”

You nodded as you reached into your bag once more, drawing out the long orange body of a medium haired cat in a little black plaid vest. A golden tag dangled off its collar, its name carved into the metal in a curling script.

Princess.

He felt his stomach drop.

“I got one for the other cat too so we can all match for family photos!”

“Family photos!” Soukaku squealed from her desk.

He gripped your shoulders with a forced smile. “Can we talk outside? It would be bad if we interrupted office workflow after all.”

“Oh, no need, I’ve gotta run back to work. Duty calls!” You giggled as you placed Princess in his arms, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek, your lipstick staining his cheek a pretty shade of rose.

“Watch our baby girl for me! Toodles!”

You pranced out of the office with a giggle, the door sliding shut behind you before it quickly reopened.

“Hold on, (y/n)!”

You paused in your step, glancing at his disheveled state with the warmest smile you could muster.

“Yes, Haru?”

“I won’t be able to hang out tomorrow afternoon,” he said, Princess struggling in his arms for a moment as he readjusted his grip on her. “Some of my old friends from PubSec wanted to get together and have a game night, you don’t mind do you?”

“Of course not!” You said with a smile. “You boys have fun.”

He looked relieved as you turned away to leave, flipping your hair over your shoulder. The stupid smile on your face faded so quickly you felt like a true psychopath for a fleeting moment.

Day Seven - Become the Psycho Girlfriend of his Nightmares

“I don’t know what this guy’s problem is,” you bemoaned, popping another cheeseball into your mouth.

The roof of your apartment building was a pleasant place to be on a day off, lounging on the deck chairs as the sun warmed your skin.

Zhu Yuan laid beside you in her own chair, her eyes closed behind her sunglasses as she shrugged. “Maybe he’s a little mental?”

“There is no history of mental health conditions in his medical file.” Chimed Qingyi from your other side where she sat crossed legged.

You frowned. “No need to violate HIPAA for the sake of this conversation, Qingyi.”

She shrugged.

“But seriously, I’m not making things even remotely easy and he still hasn’t called it quits. I’ve been clingy, ruined the archery finals multiple times, accused him of calling me fat in public, been overly emotional. Damn, he even got his nose busted over a date with me.” You huffed irritably, crunching another cheeseball between your teeth.

“I just don’t get it, what else am I supposed to do?”

“When do you see him again?” Zhu Yuan asked, her head rolling in your direction as she held out a hand. You shook a few cheeseballs into her waiting palm.

“Tomorrow.”

“Not tonight?”

You shook your head. “No, he’s got a boy’s night planned.”

Zhu Yuan practically launched herself upward, flipping her glasses onto her head. “Boy’s night, surely you don’t intend to let him off that easy.”

You pursed your lips before a wicked smile morphed onto your face. “You’re right, what would he be without me?”

There were eighteen missed calls on his answering machine when he returned home, four playing through as he fed the cats that rubbed incessantly against his legs begging for his attention. It was fortunate that Princess had an agreeable nature, it would have been a shame to rehome her if she had clashed with his own cat.

“Haru, are you home?”

“I miss you~”

“Pick up the phone, Haru!”

“I just wanna know how your day was my handsome boy~”

He paused the message playback as a knock sounded at his door. Seemed like the first of his guests had arrived, a perfect excuse to forget your incessant tone.

Everything seemed to be going quite well, conversation flowing easily over the passing of cards and bets placed in poor, alcohol-addled states of mind. He refrained once more, sipping on another bitter seltzer as he fanned out his cards. A good hand, he was feeling lucky.

Or he did before his front door swung open.

“Hi boys!” You chirped.

He folded his hand immediately, an expression of fear flashing through his eyes as he gritted his teeth. You waltzed right in, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Heyy, (y/n). I thought we weren’t seeing each other tonight—,”

“Oh, we weren’t, but then I was just thinking you might need some snacks for game night!”

You practically stared daggers into the befuddled faces of some of your very own N.E.P.S officers that sat around the table. They will definitely think you are a nutcase after tonight, but internal PR was a small price to pay.

You pranced to the kitchen, your tone cheery as you babytalked to the cats that prowled after you. You could hear the muted conversation from the kitchen where you fished through his cabinets for a plate and serving utensils.

“She’s something alright.”

“If something means psycho then…”

“Easy now, she’s not that bad.” You were surprised to hear him defending you, albeit poorly.

“C’mon man, don’t kid yourself.”

You came out of the kitchen just in time to see Harumasa’s shoulders sag as he nodded, hands rising to rub his face.

“She might be a little…”

“A little what?” You hissed from where you stood, plate of cookies in your hand. You looked like a disgruntled housewife, the kind that poisons her husband and buries him beneath the roses in the backyard.

“Asaba Harumasa,” your tone sent shivers down his spine, venom dripping from your tongue as you stared him down, slowly approaching the table like a predatory cat.

“It’s okay sweetie, you can tell me. Go ahead, say you think I’m some kind of psycho bitch!” Your pitch rose to a yell as you flipped the plate in your hand for good measure, cookies scattering everywhere as each man at the table recoiled.

The waterworks came next as the plate clattered to the floor, your hands rising to hide your face as you willed tears to your eyes.

“I have tried so hard to be a good, attentive girlfriend but you just think I’m crazy.” You sobbed, catching a glimpse of the silly fern in the pink pot you had left in his care days ago. Its leaves were wilted.

“Did you ever want this relationship to work?” You accused, angrily wiping your ‘tears’ as you pointed at the plant. “You even let our love fern die, how can I trust you to take this relationship seriously?”

He was stirred into a panic now, rising from his seat. “It was an accident, I got busy with work and forgot to water it is all.”

“I told you a relationship takes tender love and care. Care does not mean forgetting to water it!”

You wiped your tears and stifled your sniffles, raising your head proudly. “Consider us, over.”

You stormed out the door and down the hall, and as soon as the elevator shut behind you you laughed like a maniac. Oh the sweet taste of release. You deserved an award for your performance.

Meanwhile he stood in the carnage of your departure, mentally counting the days in his head. Seven. He was still several days shy of his bet with Tsukishiro.

“Lucky, she saw herself out, wait—you’re not thinking of stopping her, right?”

“I just need three more days,” he whipped around as he grabbed his friend by the shoulders, “what do girls like to hear at times like this?”

You felt liberated as you stepped onto the street. Finally you had shaken yourself free of the burden you had placed upon yourself. There was almost a skip in your step as you turned to walk home.

“(Y/n), wait!”

Your stomach plummeted. You didn’t even want to turn around, didn’t intend to until his hand circled your wrist with a gentle grasp.

“I am so sorry, I would do anything to make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes as you shook your head, wrenching your wrist free. “It’s too late for that, Asaba.”

Ouch, back to last name basis. This was worse than he thought.

“Why don’t we go to couple’s therapy?”

The very words felt bitter on his tongue, quietly instilling both of you with profound dread.

You turned over your shoulder, voice teary. “You would do that for me?”

He nodded.

Shit. Guess both of you were still stuck.

Day Eight - Couples Therapy

His stomach felt sick all night and he couldn’t sleep, a shared sentiment occurring in your own bed several streets away as you tossed and turned.

He’s unshakeable, and you needed to find an out.

That’s why you stood in front of a sterile door in your well pressed skirt suit, Harumasa anxiously stirring at your side. “Thank you for suggesting this,” you murmured as you knocked on the door. “It makes me feel like you actually care.”

The door opened as you bit your tongue to suppress the grin that threatened to crease your cheeks.

Qingyi stood in the doorway, a pair of comically large glasses perched on her nose and her hair pulled tightly back. She looked more like some sort of cult member than a therapist with the unique oversized smock she wore.

Harumasa’s brow furrowed. “Are you the doctor..?”

Qingyi nodded, “Yes, now come in, we have a lot to discuss.”

The conversation devolved rapidly once you actually sat down. You poured out a dramatized version of the truth, tears streaming down your cheeks as your mascara smeared. He was lost somewhere between fighting for his life defending his actions and trying to comfort you.

Qingyi was playing her role beautifully, hell she even opened the door for you to accuse him of trying to flirt with her before she turned up the heat and began to put pressure on him.

“He’s just so distant, he won’t even tell me about the things he likes!” You cried, blowing your nose dramatically into another one of half the tissue box you had already gone through.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll take you out and show you. Just please stop crying.”

Your tears dried immediately, casting a glance at Qingyi who simply nodded.

“A couples weekend to grow closer, I think it’s an excellent idea.”

You cursed her a little internally as you walked out the door.

Day Nine - Doing Things He Enjoys..?

The scent of seawater met your nose as you stepped out of the car, the wind off the ocean tugging at your meticulously fixed hair as you watched the boats at the dock bob over the waves.

When he told you he would take you to do things he enjoyed you weren’t anticipating to end up here, but there was a palpable shift in his attitude as he pulled the camera from the backseat and raised it to peer through the viewfinder, the shutter clicking loudly as he took a picture of the sun rising over the distant horizon.

The tiny smile on his lips painted his features with a serene expression, the sun painting his cheeks in a shade of gold that could rival the saturation of his eyes as the sea breeze ruffled his already unruly hair.

You watched him silently. It felt like an intrusion for you to be standing here with him, a feeling that never left even as he turned his warm expression in your direction, beckoning you to follow him as he walked towards the dock.

You half expected him to walk down the actual dock, not for him to pause at the edge of the railing to kick his shoes off before climbing over it in favor of the thin band of sand lining the rocky outcropping that the lighthouse sat upon.

“Don’t wanna get your shoes wet,” he stated simply as he offered you a hand over the rail to follow him.

The water lapped past the rocks and onto the sand, the gritty substance soft and soggy under your bare feet as you picked along the nondescript beach until it turned into a bank of slippery black rocks.

You paused just shy of the terminus of the rocks, watching him look thoughtfully over the water as he raised his camera again.

You wondered what went through his mind. Photography was never your strong suit, you lacked a discerning eye for beauty like that captured in a still life. Your eyes danced over the waterline, willing yourself to see some deeper artistic vision like whatever had caught his fancy.

The camera shuttered again, and you turned to look at him only to be met with the shiny black lens of his camera as he brought it down from his eye.

“I like that one.” He mused, clicking back through the saved photos as he turned the screen to show you the pensive image of yourself, hair wild in the wind, face bathed in gold contrasting the harsh black of the rocky bank you stood on. He turned it back to himself, dropping the camera to hang around his neck.

“It looks like you.”

For a moment it crossed your mind that he had found you out, exposing some chink in your carefully fabricated armor to protect your heart in the little game you had subjected him to. You swallowed thickly, avoiding his gaze.

“Of course it looks like me.” You muttered as if it was an obvious observation.

You stayed at the Port till the afternoon sun blazed high overhead, your skin sandy and fingertips greasy from the basket of fries you shared with him as you dangled your feet off the edge of the dock. You had long given up on your looks, the wind from the top of the lighthouse where he took you having ruffled your hair in a way so attractive that you thought it safer to knot it upon your head with a hair tie than let it hang free a moment longer.

When he told you he had another place to take you afterwards it took you by surprise. Had he actually taken that ridiculous therapy session seriously? Ah, you were starting to feel guilty again.

The cityscape gave way to a lush road lined with trees before you pulled over again in a gravel parking lot. It was largely empty, the chirping of crickets meeting your ears as the trees rustled in the gentle wind. A rusted sign stood by the road announcing it as a shooting range.

“You ever shot a bow?” He called to you.

“Can’t say I have.”

You heard the car door shut, eyes catching on the longbow resting in his hand as he walked to your side, looking down at you with a grin that actually met his eyes.

“Well, do you want to?”

The target stood a reasonable way down the green from where you stood. His weapon of choice felt heavier in your hands than you expected, the grips worn and a variety of scuffs decorating the metallic surface. You had watched plenty of archery matches, but actually doing it was a little more daunting than you imagined, less “pull and shoot” than you were expecting.

“You okay over there?” He asked from the sidelines. You could feel his eyes burning holes in your back. No pressure.

You nodded as you lifted the bow, arrow already nocked as you drew back the string. You could feel the flexure of your muscles all the way to your shoulders, a quiver rattling through your forearm at the strain. You didn’t know how many pounds it was, but it was enough that your lack of practice with such an instrument showed rather evidently. You were ready to drop your aim before his hands steadied your grip, circling you from either side.

You turned your head slightly, bumping into his chest before you felt your heart race, his arms warm where they brushed your own.

“You’re almost there.” He hummed in your ear, fingers hooking just above yours on the string. The weight suddenly vanished as he easily drew the string taut, his other hand anchoring it still.

“Now just look down the sight and aim where you please.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding as you followed his instructions, the colorful rings of the target appearing under your gaze as you gently redirected the position of the arrow.

“Just say the word.” He added, watching the concentrated look on your face with a fond look.

“Now.” You breathed, fingers releasing from the bowstring in tandem with his own as the arrow whistled down the green.

“That’ll be a two.” He observed aloud, the orange tail of the practice arrow you shot seated just shy of the black margin line. His free hand subconsciously rested against your arm, thumb brushing your skin.

“Not bad for a beginner?” You asked hopefully as you peered up at him.

“Not bad at all.”

You spent the rest of the day at the range, the sun sinking below the horizon line as you drove back into the city. Some part of you was disappointed to see the day end, it had been a breath of fresh air to experience an easy day alongside him.

You would hate to admit that when he put the car in park as asked you if you wanted to take a walk with him that you were actually excited.

It was against everything you had promised to yourself and Zhu Yuan when you accepted her challenge, but the taste of your strawberry soda was sweeter against your tongue when you sat under the lowlight of the playground by the water, legs dangling off the side of a broken down one-Denny ride with him perched at your side.

“Thanks for joining me,” he murmured as he pressed his own bottle to his lips.

“And thank you for letting me tag along today,” came your reply, buttery smooth as you mimicked his actions. “It was…nice.”

You actually meant it, a warm feeling bubbling in your gut as the admission met the wind.

“It was nice being around you, the real you, for the day.” He picked at the label on his drink as you stared at him owlishly. “Don’t act so surprised, it’s not hard to realize you’ve been masking a lot of things once you open up. You're a little too honest when you aren’t faking it.”

You opened your mouth to retort but he beat you to it.

“You’re cuter when you aren’t pretending to be someone else.”

Your head hung a bit lower as you downed the last sip of your drink, discarding the bottle by your feet as if it were liquid courage and not a sweet, syrupy concoction.

“Do you really mean it?” You asked weakly, shivering as you felt his warm fingertips graze your skin as he tucked a stray hair behind your ear. His fingertips trailed down the curve of your ear to your jawline, drawing your chin up to face him.

He was closer than you thought he was, his thumb brushing your lower lip, breath warm as it fanned your cheeks. He didn’t answer you directly as he leaned into your lips, hands warm as they cupped your cheeks tenderly.

You were sure you would melt into a puddle, filtering through his fingers like the pile of rotten mush you were for how poorly you had treated him in the last few days. Surely you didn’t deserve the tender way he kissed you, the breathy sigh that parted your lips dousing his own in the strawberry-tinted taste of your surrender as you kissed him back with the same gentleness he offered you.

For him to claim a dislike for sweet things his kiss was anything but bitter in your mind, while his own simply pondered the fact that syrupy sweet had never been more tolerable than when it dripped off your lips and teased his tongue.

You were regretful when you parted, lips still tingling as you caught your breath.

“I should take you home.” He whispered into the air between you.

The ride to your place was silent, but you didn’t regret what transpired at the park as you chewed your lip thoughtfully.

You still didn’t have any regrets when you hesitated to get out, inviting him upstairs with a spark of hope burning inside your chest that you wished he would douse once and for all by denying your request.

You didn’t regret holding his hand as you guided him to your bathroom, when you let him slide your t-shirt over your head as you helped him out of his own, when you kissed him like you meant it as you backed him into the warm spray of your shower, the tickling scent of sweat and seawater intensified before it washed away under the hardwater.

You wouldn’t regret a single moment of letting him ravish you with an affection you’d never experienced, one laced with longing and appreciation for each inch of your body that passed under calloused fingertips, one that surpassed anything spoken that could be retracted with a breath.

You would only regret any creeping memory of the distressed looks you had cast onto his gentle features in the past, painting over them with a glaze of the love and pleasure stricken expressions that pinched his brow as you indulged in each other at the most carnal of levels. Whispers of adoration pressed to your skin that made your toes curl and made the sickly knot of pleasure in your gut twist all the tighter as you sought a release that only he could provide you as you drowned in the intense wave of his silent affections.

Day Ten - Break his Heart

Every coin has a flip side, like how every story has an opposing view. Maybe he was simply your mirror in that, or that was what you willed yourself to think as you stared down the hurt that burned in his golden eyes. You were sure you looked none the better if the hot anger that surged in your veins had anything to say about it.

This wasn’t at all how you imagined it going, but maybe you had just been lying to yourself the whole time just as he had done.

Zhu Yuan’s expression looked stricken, Tsukishiro’s cool if not a little surprised as she shook her head.

“Pardon the interruption.” The pink haired deputy Chief said as she swiftly dismissed herself from the scene, Zhu Yuan shuffling away in a similar apologetic fashion.

You wished your own feet would carry you far away from here, to turn tail and run like the coward you were when it came to confrontations you couldn’t control. If you ran would it change anything? Would it soothe the ache of guilt and the harsh throb of heartbreak? You knew the answer to that well enough as your fingers tightened around your purse strap, convincing yourself that their accidental revelation was for the better despite the despicable feeling that welled up in your chest.

“So.”

“So.” He parroted with a similarly bitter tone, lips drawn into a thin line.

“Was it worth it?”

He scoffed. “You’re gonna ask me that? Last time I checked intentionally being insane as a dig back at mankind as a whole is a little worse than a stupid deal for some time off.”

Your pride wouldn’t allow you to back down even if his words rang soundly in your ears. “But that was the point wasn’t it? You were no more innocent than every other asshole who strung me along and ditched me like an old toy when something better came along.” You seethed.

“Coming after me for the sake of a bet with a timeline like that proves it enough for me. So let’s just cut the crap and get this over with.”

Your expression was icy as you met his eyes, steeling yourself.

“It meant nothing to me, and I never want to see you again.”

Something crumpled in his chest, but he didn’t show it, simply nodding. “Fine. Do us both a favor and lose my number.”

And nine days of intimate torment died on the gritty sidewalk like a tortured animal, both of you turning away without looking back.

You would save yourself the dignity to do so later in the silence of your own home, to let the guilt of your actions bubble over the waterline of your lashes as your heart broke all over again in the same foolish way you swore not to allow this time as quiet pleas for his forgiveness pressed past your lips.

You wouldn’t know of the numb way he sat on his couch when he finally arrived home, the lithe body of Princess rubbing against his shin as the feline begged for an affection he couldn’t muster.

There was a meticulously crafted wall around his heart, or there had been before you managed to breach it, one placed with the intent to deflect anything meaningful so he wouldn’t have to die with any regrets should his state of being decline rapidly. With it now in tatters his chest felt heavier than ever as he curled into himself, face buried into his hands as he forced himself to breath deeply and will away any thought of the softness of your touch or how treacherously you had warmed his heart in the exact way he had tried to prevent each time he felt a relationship teetering near anything past a casually physical state.

Day Eleven

Work felt like a chore, your eyes dry, tired and puffy as you stared blankly at your computer screen. Anything laborious would have to take a backburner this time, as your brain was still too addled from crying yourself to sleep like a real slob to handle anything too intensive when it came to thought.

Sure others had noticed, but they didn’t ask questions, opting to give you space instead of intruding upon your foul mood. It left your day rather silent, a breeding ground for getting lost in your own thoughts which was exactly what you didn't want right now.

Your secretary shuffled into the room hesitantly.

“Commander, you have a visitor.”

“Tell them to come back another day.” You replied flatly, clicking aimlessly on your screen.

“I did but it’s an officer from the HSO. Says it’s urgent.”

Your stomach flipped unpleasantly. You had a crawling notion of who it might be.

“Let them in.”

The secretary nodded, disappearing from your sight before your guest entered silently.

“Commander.”

“What business do you have here, Asaba?” Your tone was icy and sharp, not bothering to look in his direction as you busied yourself with the same menial task that had plagued you for the past hour.

“Not looking at me is a new low, even for you.”

You frowned, shooting a glare in his direction as you turned to face him fully. He looked messy, but when did he not? Eyebags weren’t even unfamiliar for him, but the spiderwebs of tired veins that snakes across his sclera were even if you were sitting too far to see the bloodshot nature.

“If it isn’t urgent then we have no business to discuss, and you need to leave.”

“It is important,” he interjected as he pulled something from his pocket, a thin photo that he flipped in your direction.

It was the picture of you that he took at Port Elpis.

“I’m calling you on your shit,” he declared firmly as he approached your desk, dropping the picture right in front of you as he planted his palms on the flat surface, staring you down.

“False pretenses or not, the past ten days weren’t meaningless to you.” He pressed, eyes not wavering from where they locked with your own. “I refuse to believe it’s left you unaffected, because I’ve been sick over you every hour since then.”

A shaky breath sucked between his teeth, his eyes darting to your lips that quivered despite your best efforts.

“I just don’t think it’s possible that you’ve charmed me as one-sidedly as you’re trying to let on.”

You couldn’t escape his gaze if you wanted to, as staring down at your neatly folded hands only brought the hazy gold kissed image of you by the ocean he had taken, a picture taken under the same eye you had admired for its ability to scrutinize and capture beauty in its most raw and unfiltered state. A lens that had snatched your moment of contemplation in a clutch of unabashed appreciation, a diamond picked from the rough of days of undue torture.

So you didn’t run from it anymore, turning your chin up from where it had sunk as you met his gaze head on, a rueful smile gracing your lips.

“Am I that bad of a liar?”

His mouth felt dry, heart racing in his ears as he studied your resigned expression. You looked serene as your gaze cast back down to your fingers, toying with your cuticles.

“You made me break my one rule for my little experiment. Don’t fall in love.” Your tone was still laced in bitterness, a hand raising to dab at the corner of your eyes at the admission.

“I assure you, I’ll be slower to forgive myself for hurting you than you would be. You’re a good person, Asaba. You deserve only the best the world has to offer you, and I’m sorry that couldn’t be me.” Your eyes were the clearest he had ever seen as you looked up at him, a warmth still radiating from the depths of your irises as you smiled sadly.

“Don’t call me that.” His voice was hushed and gentle like the finger that brushed your cheek, a stray tear smearing across your cheek. “I don’t want you to be distant anymore, I think we are past that now.”

Your lips pursed as you drew a shaky breath, the warmth of his hand still lingering on your skin. “Haru, I am so sorry for hurting you.”

His apology came whispered against your skin as he cupped your cheeks in his palms, warm kisses pressed against your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose before his forehead came to rest against your own.

“I’ll beg for your forgiveness too,” he murmured against your lips. “Because I don’t think I can let you go that easily.”

A silence fell between you cut only by the soft sounds of your mingled breathing, his skin still warm against your own as you leaned fully into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as you pressed a kiss to the side of his fingers.

“Then let’s start fresh.” You offered.

“Single?”

A toothy smile cracked his lips, his pointed canines as pronounced as ever.

“Currently.”

“Interested?”

“Definitely.”

“Want to kiss me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Rey 2025

#zzz #zenless zone zero #asaba harumasa #zzz harumasa #harumasa zzz #harumasa x reader #zzz x reader #asaba harumasa x reader

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