#Just personal ramblings of a broken heart I suppose

[kakusu-shipping]

I love Iroh he's a top tier character but every time I've ever committed to making an S/I for him it ends up a bust and I never figured out why, he'd just sit on the backburn with a half baked Self Insert until I'd scrap the whole thing. He's been on and off the F/O list more than any other character.

Was it the dynamic? My plots? Was it not interesting enough, did I feel like a background character? Or was it TOO interesting and take away from Iroh pre-existing narrative? Am I weaved in enough? Are we believable if I was canon? Why isn't this working?

Upon rewatch I once again began my song and dance of find a plot I like and build into it, and I am once again hitting a wall. I decided to really sit down with this one, run through all my plots and drafts, run ever S/I at once and see why none of them are sticking.

That's how I finally I realized, it's Zuko. My wall is Zuko

Iroh loves Zuko more than he would ever love me, that's why none of my plots were working, because at some point it has to be about just Him and Zuko.

It's kinda interesting getting your heart broken by a fictional character...

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With an uncertain future, Bradley gets ready to leave for Virginia. But he works on a plan to make sure you understand just how much he will be thinking about you.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, adult banter, desperate Bradley, 18+

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley felt sick to his stomach as soon as he saw the stationery set. At this point, the only thing on his mind was quitting his job so the two of you didn't have to be separated. The paper looked expensive; he would have loved to sit in his bunk and write line after line to you and your class, but he wouldn't be able to do that at all. 

"We can go back to being pen pals for a bit," you whispered, your hand coming to rest on his thigh, giving him a little squeeze. "I'll be refreshing my email inbox and waiting not so patiently for my mail to arrive. It'll be great. That's how I fell in love with you in the first place."

He felt guilty even though he had no control over the scenario. His heart hurt with loneliness already as he set the gift you gave him on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands. "Gorgeous. That's not gonna happen." He swallowed past the lump in his throat and turned to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm confused," you said, hand still on his leg. He covered your fingers with his rougher ones and pulled gently until you climbed onto his lap. 

"Oh, god," he groaned, giving you a kiss before linking his fingers with yours. "I love that set of note cards. I would have taken them with me everywhere during my free time, and I would have written to your class constantly. And you would have been the recipient of some rambling love notes to be sure." Your brow was still creased with concern as he said, "No outside communication. For seven weeks."

Your expression went slack as a single tear rolled down your cheek. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

Bradley held onto your fingers as you whispered, "This keeps getting worse," through more tears. Your broken voice made his chest ache as you leaned closer until your cheek was resting on his shoulder. "I could go ages without you in person, but if I can't talk to you at all... Bradley."

Nobody else ever loved him the way you did. He'd be miserable without your letters, emails, dirty pictures and pretty face over video calls, but he finally had someone who would miss him equally. 

"I know," he muttered, wrapping his arms around you. "It's seven weeks of nothing."

You were crying in earnest now as you clung to him. "Nothing," you sobbed. "I won't even know if I'm supposed to collect you in San Diego or Norfolk when your deployment ends. And I won't know where you're being stationed."

"Fuck," he gasped. "Gorgeous, when I tell you that nobody would have much cared where I ended up before I met you, I mean it." He kissed you as you snuggled tighter against him. "As soon as I find out what's going on, I'll let you know."

"Seriously," you murmured, voice shaky. "You better tell me as soon as possible if it's San Diego or Norfolk in my future."

Bradley didn't know what else to say besides, "I fucking love you." He smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks as he added, "Are you really going to fly out to Norfolk and collect me if they make me stay in Virginia?"

You pulled away from him, eyes puffy with a scandalized look on your face as you said, "Of course. What kind of girlfriend do you think I am?"

The kind he was going to upgrade to his wife.

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

When you finally stopped crying, you were on the verge of a migraine, but you felt a bit calmer. Bradley got up to gather together some Advil, a glass of water, and a small gift wrapped in hideous paper.

"Your early Christmas present," he said, handing it to you after you swallowed two pills for your headache. "Well, it's actually kind of another gift for me, when you really think about it." He dropped down onto the couch again with his arm slung around your shoulders, and unlike him, you tore into the paper. Inside was a leather journal with little hand painted airplanes all over it. "Will you write in it every day so I can read it when I see you again?"

When you opened it to the first page, he had written you a note.

Gorgeous, I miss you with my whole heart. I can't wait to read about all of your adventures when I get home to you. Love, Bradley

"Yes," you whispered, closing it again so you could wrap your arms around his waist. "It'll just be a bunch of pages of me telling you how I argued with Jayden about his sloppy handwriting and how I asked Nia a hundred times to return to her seat. But yes, I'll write in it every day for you."

"I will eat up every page."

After that, he kept you by his side for the rest of the night. Even when you tried to dig around in the refrigerator to see if there was any food left, he was grabbing for you and kissing you. "You have no food," you said with a laugh, turning to face him. "What are we eating for dinner?"

"Hadn't thought that far," he muttered against your lips. "Just want you."

You took his face in your hands and ran your thumb along his scars. "If you don't eat, you'll get cranky. And you've got aircraft carrier food in your future."

Bradley grimaced and muttered, "Cabbage rolls," as he reached for his phone. "Let's get pizza today. And then maybe I'll try to talk the hostess at Salvatore's into letting us get takeout tomorrow. Then Thai on Christmas."

"And then you'll be gone," you whispered, dreading it all over again. "It never gets any easier, does it?"

"You're stuck with me, Gorgeous," he said, voice tinged with the tiniest bit of apprehension.

"I am." You kissed him before you said, "Pizza sounds perfect. Then I can help you pack a little more."

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

The last thing Bradley wanted to do was finish packing his duffle, but every time you looked up at him, eyes full of emotion, he was struck by several things. One, you really were so good at folding up his uniform components, something he noticed a few days ago. Two, every minute or so, you wrapped your arms around him, which made leaving with uncertainty so much harder. And three, you were absolutely nothing like Vanessa. 

Last time when he packed to leave, he was treated to her incessant whining over the fact that he didn't want to take her out to dinner. She was always annoyed with him wanting a quiet night in. She was always annoyed by his job. It was so obvious that she never missed him or loved him the way you did as he watched you carefully fold one of his flight suits before tucking it in his bag. 

"Gorgeous," he murmured, and as soon as your gaze met his, you had your arms wrapped around him again.

"That's enough for the night," you whispered, voice thick with emotion as he kissed the top of your head. Your face was pressed against his chest, and he could hear you trying to keep yourself calm. And god, he hated doing this to both of you. 

"I agree," he replied, keeping you close while he tossed a few novels he'd been meaning to read in as well. He'd have plenty of time to read a whole stack.

You wiped your eyes on his shirt as you said, "Make sure you read at night and stay away from all the women."

Bradley tipped your chin up so you were looking at him again. "Surely you're not worried about that." You shook your head. "Good. But now that we're on the topic... be a good girl and don't talk to horny assholes."

You started laughing as you slipped out of his grasp, wiping at your tears as you said, "Never. Now let me add one more thing to your bag." As you disappeared from the bedroom, Bradley put his bag on the top of his dresser. If he had time, he would move some of his clothing around so you had room for your things when your lease was up. Otherwise you were going to have to fend for yourself in his house and just make decisions for him. If he just had more time with you, everything would be easier. The one promising thing would be returning in time for Valentine's Day and Career Day at your school. If he was allowed to come back to San Diego at all.

"Fuck," he groaned, hating this unsettled feeling that was expanding in his chest, but as soon as you walked back in, he started to feel better. Seven weeks without you was going to be painful when he had such a visceral reaction to your touch and your words.

"Just in case you feel like jotting down your own thoughts every day for me to read," you said before tucking the stationery kit in next to his uniforms. You slid a large envelope that looked like it was bursting at the seams inside as well and simply said, "Some more reading material for you," before pulling him toward the bed.

And that's when Bradley figured out just how to make you feel a little less alone when he was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

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

When you opened your eyes on Christmas Eve, you were already smiling. Your body was warm and tucked up against Bradley's, his big, heavy arm draped over you as he snored softly. You wanted to stay here and not move a muscle, because right now, everything was perfect. You could pretend like his duffle bag wasn't sitting on his dresser, mostly packed and ready to go. You could melt into the sweet ache deep inside from the hour he spent loving your body last night. You could close your eyes and go back to sleep.

Bradley's phone vibrated on his nightstand, and he groaned next to your ear. "Baby," he murmured, lips grazing your neck. "Don't get up yet."

You couldn't help but smile. "Your phone is vibrating. Not mine."

"Shit," he grunted, rolling away from you. Once he looked at his phone screen he seemed to wake up. "Nat's on her way to pick you up for girls' day."

"What are you talking about?"

You definitely hadn't planned a girls' day. Why would you want to miss out on any time with Bradley right now? You could have a day with Nat next week or next month when he was gone!

He had a little smile on his face as he pulled you close again for a kiss. "You better get dressed."

"Bradley! I'm not going out with Nat. You're leaving in two days!"

Naked and spectacular, he climbed out of bed and stretched. "Just for a bit. She wants to take you to get coffee, and if she tries to get me a Christmas present, I need you to make sure it doesn't suck." 

"You planned this," you said, annoyed as he reached for you, pulling you away from the bed where you could pretend there was no scary uncertainty in your future.

"Just trust me," he whispered, holding you close. "Besides, I need some time to sweet talk someone at Salvatore's into letting me order dinner to-go."

You could handle an hour or two with his best friend while you counted down the time you had left before his flight out of San Diego. "Fine, but I'm wearing your sweatshirt, and I'll be thinking about you the whole time."

Bradley sent you down the walkway with a kiss, and he waved from the front door in just his underwear as you climbed into his best friend's car. "I won't keep you out too long," Natasha promised with a smirk. "I can already tell you want to get back to him."

"Why did he plan this?" you asked, wanting the answers he wouldn't give you while trying not to be rude. "No offense, because I would love to spend an entire girls' day with you, but why today?"

She simply turned up the Christmas songs on the radio and headed toward Starbucks with a smile on her face. "I was thinking after coffee we could hit up the mall for a few minutes? I need to find something truly awful to get for Bradley. I'm thinking some pink running shorts to match mine. High visibility colors are very important when you're out running, and I just don't think he fully appreciates that."

You laughed. "If you buy them, he'll probably just wear them to try to embarrass you."

"I don't embarrass easily," she said smoothly with a devilish grin. "And dare I say you might like to pick out a little something that you could wear as a going away treat?"

"Wear?" you asked before you quite knew what she meant.

"Sure. I mean, I don't want to know any specifics about what the two of you get up to, because gross, but deployments are long and lonely, and you're definitely going to miss each other."

While Bradley had seen all of your cutest underwear at this point, you'd never worn anything that you bought specifically with him in mind. Your cheeks grew warm as you thought about it. Truthfully you didn't even own anything terribly sexy. 

"What would he even like?" you asked softly as she pulled into the Starbucks parking lot.

"On you?" she asked with a laugh. "Anything. Don't worry, we'll find something good."

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

When Natasha texted to inform him that you were on your way back to his house, Bradley quickly hid everything that had been out on his coffee table while he juggled his phone. The woman he was talking to on speakerphone wasn't falling for his lines at all.

"Listen," he told her, making sure there was no visible evidence of what he'd done in his living room. "I just really want tonight to be special for my girlfriend and I before I leave for my next deployment. Just one order of spaghetti and meatballs? That's all I'm asking."

There was a deep sigh followed by, "Be here promptly at 5:00 to pick it up. I'll take your credit card over the phone."

"Perfect," he replied with a smile, digging for his wallet. "The name is Bradley Bradshaw."

You walked in with shopping bags in your arms, and rushed toward him as he finished giving his credit card security code, and he pulled you in for a hug as he reassured the hostess from Salvatore's that he would be there at 5:00.

"Hi," he said, kissing you after he ended the call. "Did you have fun with Nat?

"So much fun," you told him with a smile. "We're going to try out a wine bar next week up in Oceanside." The idea of you hanging out with his friend while he was away made him feel calm, especially since Nat knew how important you were to him. "Also," you said, pressing your lips together nervously, "I think I'd like to sleep here for the rest of my winter break." Your volume dropped to a whisper. "I'm not sure if it will make me miss you more or less, but I want to be here if that's okay with you."

"I love that, Gorgeous," he replied easily. Hanging out with Natasha and then returning to his house where you belonged anyway felt right to him. "Knowing you're sleeping in my bed might result in some dirty notes from me," he said with a laugh as you bit your lip.

"Please," you whispered. "Yes. Write me dirty notes to read when you get back." Just when he was about to kiss you, he watched you bend and rummage around in a bag. "Also, this is your gift from Natasha." You handed him some bright pink fabric that he turned around in his hands, trying to figure out what it was. "And she told me to hold up the gift receipt for you."

When he finally figured out that it was a pair of ladies running shorts, he grimaced. "She's so annoying," he groaned, reaching for the gift receipt, but you quickly chuckled and tore it up. "What are you doing?"

"You're not allowed to return them." You dropped the bits of paper, and he tossed the shorts onto the couch.

"Whose side are you on here?" he asked, peppering your face with kisses. "Don't think for a second I won't just put a jock strap on and run in those shorts."

"I tried to tell her you would," you laughed as he scooped you up. "I kind of want to see it."

"Play your cards right," he murmured, grabbing his keys and taking you out to his Bronco. "Let's pick up dinner."

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

Your belly was full of spaghetti and meatballs when you managed to sneak away to the tiny laundry room and quickly hand wash your new bra and thong set while Bradley loaded the dishwasher. Nat assured you that he would enjoy this tiny thing, and you were trusting her here. You set both items aside to dry before walking back out to the kitchen.

"You don't have a Christmas tree," you remarked, wishing you'd picked one up today from one of the many parking lots trying to unload them at the last minute.

"I told you I don't really celebrate holidays."

"You're doing a great job of celebrating this one."

He washed his hands and tossed the towel aside. It was barely seven o'clock, but he asked, "You feel like calling it an early night?" You agreed, ready to feel his warmth along your entire body as you fell asleep.

You got undressed and climbed in bed, and he did the same. Bradley's hands were everywhere, but his lips were gentle on your neck and shoulder as he whispered your name. "I love you. It's going to kill me inside when I can't talk to my favorite pen pal. Last time, you had my heart pounding every time you sent me a new email."

Tears stung your eyes in the darkness; you'd done a pretty good job of holding it together all day, but this was going to be your undoing. "I promise, every time you think about me, I'll already be thinking about you, too."

Bradley's arm tightened around you, his thumb stroking your skin, soothing you along with his sweet words as you fell asleep.

When you woke up on Christmas Day, his body was still right behind yours where he belonged, but when you rolled over to look at his handsome face, you knew the hours were going to go by too quickly. "Morning, Gorgeous," he murmured, voice raspy from sleep as he cracked his eyes open. "Let's go see what Santa brought."

You didn't have any other gifts for him, unless you counted your new lingerie which you were saving for later after dinner. And the printer you bought so he could have some photos of you without his phone on the aircraft carrier. But when you got out to the living room, there was an envelope on the coffee table.

"What is it?" you asked cautiously as you picked it up. But your heart melted immediately. It was a gift card for the wine bar in Oceanside.

"There's enough on there for you and Nat to take a few trips up if you like the place."

"The two of you have been plotting, I see," you remarked, taking a deep breath before snuggling up against his chest. "But nothing will beat the horribly expensive bottle of wine I accidentally made you buy on our second date."

Deep laughter rumbled through Bradley's chest as he said, "The look on your face just made me love you more." You groaned thinking about it. "Come on, we've only got one day left and then seven weeks of nothing. Let's make French toast and have sex on the couch and eat Thai food and watch movies."

You wore his sweatshirt around all day, licked maple syrup from his lip and rode him until he was whining for you. The Thai noodles went perfectly with Home Alone. Then you took a shower together and deep conditioned his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp until his eyes closed.

"I'm going to miss this," he whispered after every single thing you did. When you toweled his hair dry, he looked at you with so much emotion. "I'm going to call you as soon as I know what's going on with the Pacific versus Atlantic Fleet. And either way, I'll try to be as patient as I possibly can, but I can't live without you, Baby."

"Bradley."

"Shit. Even the way you say my name makes me ache."

"I want you here with me. I already hate this." A sob escaped your lips without warning. "I want you to come back for Career Day."

The words were barely out of your mouth before he said, "I will be here for Career Day no matter what. Disappointing you is bad enough, but I don't want the eighteen kiddos to miss out on spending the day with their favorite Naval officer."

You laughed. "You're not disappointing me, Bradley. This is just hard, because I love you so much."

If you couldn't see a future with him, this would have been easier. He set you down on the bathroom vanity, and you watched him carefully shave around his mustache, kissing you randomly so you had to wipe shaving cream from your nose, and then he started collecting his toiletries for his duffle bag. He was naked and perfect as you stayed huddled in your towel, wondering if you could even manage to pull off wearing the items that were surely dry now and draped over his laundry room sink.

"Where are you going?" he asked as you ducked past him toward the door.

"Meet me in bed."

You rushed down the hallway and threw your towel in the empty washing machine as you took a minute to touch the pretty lace fabric before sliding the thong up your legs. Next you hooked the bra in place, and it didn't matter if you didn't look perfect, because you felt good. And you wanted him to have this memory.

When you cautiously strolled into the bedroom, Bradley was still naked, laying on top of the bedding, looking at a small piece of paper. "I'm just double checking my packing list, and I..." His gaze shifted to your body, and you did a little turn for him. The paper drifted to the floor as he sat up, his hand coming to rest on his cock. "Come here."

Biting your lip, you did as you were told. Bradley's feet swung over the edge of the bed, coming to rest on the floor as his cock bobbed between his thick thighs. "Here I am," you whispered, standing between his knees with your hands on his shoulders. "Your going away gift."

One strong arm wrapped around you, and you squeaked as he pulled you flush against him. He kissed the rounded tops of your breasts above your new bra, one after the other before looking up at you. "What did I do to deserve this?" he rasped, his nose running along the lace as his fingers tangled in your thong.

Already so turned on, you tried to answer him twice before words came out. "I wanted to give you a proper send off. Something extra special." Then he kissed your furled nipples through the flimsy bra cups and you moaned, "Something to think about when you're lonely."

His fingers were digging into your butt as he grunted. His wide brown eyes were fixed on your face as he parted his lips and sucked on your breast, the black lace wet everywhere now. He was being a little rough, but it felt like he was worshipping you at the same time, and when his lip found your neck, he asked, "Is this little getup new?"

"I bought it yesterday," you gasped as his fingers slipped inside your thong, stroking your wet pussy. "Just for you."

Then you were on your back with your head on the pillow, Bradley's heavy cock resting against your thigh as he hovered over you. "Just for me, huh?" he grunted, biceps flexed as he fought to keep his breathing under control.

You nodded, running your toes up along his calf and thigh until your leg was hooked around his hip, ready to give him whatever he wanted. "Of course it's just for you. I'll wear it again when we meet back in the San Diego airport or in Norfolk. And I'll wear it when you're away and I'm touching myself."

"Fuck," he growled, pulling your panties to the side and running his cock through your wetness before pushing himself so deep inside you that it took your breath away. When you whimpered, his lips crashed against yours as his hands dug beneath you to unhook your bra. "Touch yourself right now." When the flimsy lace ended up on the floor while Bradley fucked you, he guided your right hand to his lips, kissing your fingertips before placing them on your breast. "I want to watch."

Bradley's pupils were wide, lips parted. When you looked down your body as his cock disappeared inside you over and over again, you felt even more turned on. When you ran your fingers along your nipple and up between your bouncing breasts, his eyes followed your every move. "Like this?" you asked, feeling bold as you added your left hand as well.

He gave you a harder thrust. "Exactly like that, Gorgeous. And what are you going to think about when you do?"

"My boyfriend," you managed before his mouth met yours in a deep kiss that only lasted a few seconds. "I'm going to think about my boyfriend. I'll miss you so much."

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

Bradley's hips slowed to a gentler pace as he listened to you gasping and panting beneath him. There was no way you'd miss him as much as he'd miss you. He closed his eyes and thought about returning home to your arms in seven weeks and heading back to work in the Pacific Fleet. He hoped you'd appreciate the little surprises he was leaving behind for you. More than anything he wanted you to think about tonight when you got yourself off.

His rough excitement at you in the new lingerie melted into something sweeter as he fucked you with long, languid strokes. Your lips were on his neck and collarbones as he whispered how much he loved you over and over. When you came, it escalated quickly, sudden and loud as he ran his thumb across your clip. He couldn't hold on after that, and he let your body hold him in place with soft squeezes as he caught his breath.

"I have one more thing for you to pack," you whispered, voice ragged as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"I really hope you fit in my duffle," he mused, and you laughed softly.

You kissed his ear and whispered, "I bought a small photo printer since you won't be able to use your phone." He shivered at your words. "You can print out a photo or two of us together... or maybe you want to take a new one right now to print out?"

"Jesus," he grunted, kissing your lips. "You're spoiling me." He reached for his phone on the nightstand and snapped a few pictures of your fucked out face and your body with his cock still buried deep. "I am very spoiled."

When you stood and plugged in the printer with lips puffy from his mustache in just your thong, he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had his photo gallery open on his phone and his arm around your waist as he selected the picture you sent him ages ago with the sun setting behind you. "This one is an absolute necessity. So is this one of us together. I don't think I should take any with me where you're naked, just to be safe," he mused, and you threw your arms around him.

"You'll just have to use your imagination," you told him as the photos printed.

"That'll be easy with this fresh in my mind," he murmured, looking down at your tits pressed to his chest. "I'll be thinking about you nonstop."

Bradley's hold on your body was unrelenting as he dropped the photos into his duffle and led you back to bed. It was getting late, and his flight to Virginia was early. You snuggled up on his chest with a soft smile on your lips. "I hope you do. I hope you think about me constantly and write me notes."

He kissed your forehead. "Not just you... your whole class. Have to keep them interested in aviation. But you're my favorite pen pal."

You laughed and buried your face against his neck, and he could feel your breathing grow a little more ragged as you whispered, "I love you so much. Just be safe. I don't really care if we have to figure out long distance or relocation as long as you're safe, Bradley."

That's how he fell asleep, wrapped up in your arms with your sweet sentiments in his ear. And the next morning, when his alarm went off, he welcomed your tears, because they made him feel like he was important to a woman for the first time in his life. You cried softly as you sat on his lap and went over his packing list with him one more time, and your cheeks were wet as you kissed him.

Bradley let you button up his khaki uniform shirt for him, your fingers shaking as you smoothed down the fabric along his chest. "Thank you, Gorgeous," he whispered, watching helplessly as your face crumbled into more tears.

When he drove the Bronco to the airport, your fingers were linked with his in the silence as the light from the rising sun hit the buildings downtown, promising to bring another perfect day to southern California. His hand tightened around yours, knowing he was going to be flying into so much uncertainty. His voice sounded strangled to his own ears as he parked at the curb under the signage for departing flights. "This is it. I'll text and call you as much as I can when I land before they lock me down, but this is it for seven weeks."

You crawled onto his lap, holding him tight as he kissed you, and now his tears mingled with yours. "I love you, Bradley," you promised, and he believed you as he held you in his arms and climbed down onto the pavement. He pulled his duffle from the backseat and dropped it to the curb as he held you against him, unwilling to leave before he told you a few more things.

"I'll keep myself safe, but you need to do the same. If you need something, you call Natasha right away, okay?" You nodded against him, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. "My stuff is your stuff, so do whatever you want at the house and with my Bronco. And tell me you love me every day in the journal so I can read about it when I see you."

"I will," you sobbed as he finally set you down. "And I'll be waiting to hear you tell me if it's San Diego or Norfolk."

He swiped your tears away from your cheeks and kissed you one last time before he picked up his bag and headed for the door. When he turned back one last time, you were clutching his car keys and crying. "I love you, Gorgeous."

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

We'll see how they manage apart. I think she might do a bit better than Bradley will. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 20

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[lovebugism]

hi bug! can I please request the dialogue prompt “Hold up, she said what?” with steve and shy!reader? maybe she is robin’s friend and robin tells steve something reader said (maybe that she thinks steve is cute or nice or something of the sort), and it leads to a cute conversation between the two?

ty for requesting angel!! — steve finds out the cute girl at the record store likes him and decides to bring her ice cream as a proclamation of love (shy!fem!reader, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, 2.3k)

blurbcember ⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve interjects suddenly, a metal scoop in his hand and a wild look in his eye. “She said what?”

Robin fumbles with the metal tub of Peppermint-Chip ice cream she’s refilling. It clangs when she drops it into place with haphazard care. The shop goes unusually silent without her rambling to fill the dead air. Holly, Jolly Christmas crackles quietly from the broken speakers overhead.

The girl blinks at him with a wide ocean gaze. Her rogue-tinted mouth falls softly agape. She knows she’s said the wrong thing, but she can’t remember what.

“...Huh?”

“What’d you just say?”

Her doe eyes flit to the left for a moment. It takes her a second or more to recall the words she’d only just said. She does this thing sometimes where she rambles on and on about nothing, and Steve was the first person in the whole world to let her. So it’s way too easy for her to tell him a billion things at once and forget about all of them a second later.

“That the music store just got new cassettes in?” Robin answers, her gritty voice a few octaves higher than usual.

Steve nods slow and with a crooked grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. He rests his elbow on the glass case above the ice cream and eggs her on. “After that?”

“…That you and the pretty new girl that works there have the same taste in music?”

“Before that.”

“That she said she wanted to show you the new tapes,” she says, wincing with the realization that she had, in fact, said the wrong thing. A secret she swore not to tell has just spilled from her lips without her even knowing it.

“And?” Steve lilts with a wider, rosier smile.

“Because she likes you…” Robin confesses (or rather, re-confesses) with her teeth gritted.

Even though Steve had heard her perfectly the first time, hearing it the second makes his heart skip a beat. The pulsing organ lurches into his throat. He almost forgets how to breathe.

“She likes me?” he repeats, mostly whispering, with an incredulous gape of shock. His bushy brows raise until his forehead wrinkles. His eyes go wide until the honey of them starts to glimmer.

Despite her best friend’s lovesick disposition, Robin’s freckled face hardens. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she rumbles like a storm cloud, knocking her shoulder against his when she walks by him.

“Why?” Steve retorts like a child, following behind her just the same. 

He nearly bumps into her when she stops short at the deep freezer. She returns the cloth mits she carried the ice cream in with after spending her whole break organizing the case by color. Steve could never even be bothered to put the damn things back where they belonged in the first place.

“Because I swore to her I wouldn’t,” Robin agonizes, then whips around to face him again. Her features are twisted like a hurt puppy as she pleads. “Don’t tell her I said anything either, okay? She’ll hate me.”

Steve wasn’t planning on it. Not because he thought it might make you hate her, though. He’s not entirely sure you’re capable of that. 

He’s only known you for a few months — ever since the leaves started changing color and people traded their ice cream cones for cool music at the new record store. He spent half that time admiring you across the landing, but you’ve never been anything but gentle with him. You were soft, with a soul of sunshine. 

He didn’t know it was possible to be made of sunlight until he met you.

“Well, did you tell her I liked her back?” he presses, hoping Robin might’ve done some of the hard work for him.

Her face screws up like she’s tasted something sour. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Steve shoots her a deadpanned look.

Robin caves. 

“It’s not like I meant to tell you she liked you just now, okay? It just came out!” she explains, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Maybe next time I stick my foot in my mouth around the new girl, I’ll tell her that you’re obsessed with her, and the two of you can finally start dating instead of making sex eyes at each other all the time.”

He wouldn’t put that past her. Robin the Mastermind, Robin the Blabbermouth, Robin the Matchmaker. But his fluttering heart is pumping with too much adrenaline now. He feels like he could move mountains with the knowledge of your affections — knowing that all his own big, fuzzy, suffocating feelings have been reciprocated all this time.

If he doesn’t talk to you now, he’s scared he’ll never work up this kind of courage again.

“No. Screw that,” he concludes with a shake of his head. He’s in King Steve mode now — feeling half as suave as he used to back when the whole town was falling at his feet — chest puffed and ego reeling. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Robin watches, dumbfounded, as he dumps a scoop of their best-selling ice cream into a paper bowl. Another tub she’ll have to refill. Steve ducks under the counter door and heads for the exit. “Wait— what am I supposed to do?” the girl shouts across the empty store.

Now out in the bustling Starcourt mall and taking short strides towards the music store, Steve spins on his heel to face her. He shrugs and readjusts the sailor’s cap on his head. “Wait for me to get back.”

—————

You’ve been banished to the back of the store.

Not exactly. But that’s what it feels like.

You got a bit too overwhelmed working the front counter, and since Eddie’s crazy soft on you, he let you put up all the Christmas decorations he’d been putting off instead. It’s a win-win situation, really. 

You’re stringing up sparkling tinsel over the rows of records when a deep blue sailor’s uniform catches your eye. Looking over your shoulder, you find Steve in all his glorysauntering towards you. He’s wearing shorts even though it’s basically winter now in Indiana. He’s beaming at you like sunshine anyway.

Beneath the amber glow of the dimly lit store, he looks borderline angelic. Almost unfairly ethereal.

“What’s that?” you wonder with a smile you don’t even know is there, nodding to the Scoops Ahoy brandedcup in his hand. 

You can almost smell the syrup-cinnamon concoction of the ice cream he holds in his palm. Or maybe that’s just Steve, and the sugary sweetness is radiating from his pores after working in a confectionary shop during the holidays.

He looks at you even sweeter.

“New flavor,” he answers vaguely, smirking as he leans against the metal shelves. He stumbles slightly when it rocks beneath his weight. “Oops. Sorry. It’s, uh— It’s pancake chunks with maple syrup swirl. I call it Wake and Bake.” 

A giggle tumbles from your lips when he hands it to you. “Eddie’s gonna love that,” you murmur.

“Well, it’s actually called Breakfast in Bed, but— I don’t know— I thought my idea was better.”

“Way better,” you concur with a nod and a pretty smile.

Steve watches with attentive honey eyes as you spoon a bite into your mouth. He feels a bit like it’ll be his fault if you hate it. His irrational need to impress you always makes him feel hopelessly inadequate. 

“Woah,” you hum without your mouth still a little full. The cream melts softly on your tongue, tasting of a sweet and early morning. “This is really good.”

His brows raise, and his eyes widen. “Yeah?” he wonders. Your words wash over him like a compliment for a reason he can’t name. It feels good to make you feel good.

“Mhmm. I might have to come by after work and buy the rest of it, actually,” you joke with a curt shrug. It’s a feeble confession — your way of telling him that you want to see him more because you could never say the real thing out loud.

Your heart sinks when Steve shakes his head. Then swells when he smiles.

“No way,” he scoffs, lips curling into a lopsided grin. “I’m not gonna let you pay for it— that’s crazy.”

“You can’t keep giving me free ice cream, Steve—”

“What my manager doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he lilts lowly and with a cool shrug that makes you melt. He goes very distinctly soft when he looks at you, all scruffy-faced and sweet-eyed. 

It’s suffocatingly beautiful. You crack under the pressure of it. 

“Well, uh— Thanks for the— ice cream,” you stammer and motion the bowl back to him. Thanks for stopping by and keeping me company, but you’re too pretty and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it, you don’t say.

“You don’t want the rest?” he asks with pinched brows.

“I just… should probably get back to work, you know?”

“Eddie doesn’t let you take breaks?”

“No, he does,” you answer quickly, shifting your weight on your feet. It becomes virtually impossible to meet his gaze. “Just not with…”

Steve’s brows raise when you trail off. “Not with me?” he finishes with a laugh.

“Well, not with the… pretty-boy-ice-cream-slinger in the sailor’s uniform,” you correct, then quickly follow. “His words. Not mine.”

In all honesty, Steve couldn’t care less about what Eddie Munson has to say about him. If Hawkins’s local freak is the only thing standing between him and the pretty girl at the music store, he’s down to break a couple of dumb rules.

He takes a small step towards you. His pink smirk widens. You swear your heart stops when he looks at you with it. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” he teases with a twinkle in his squinted eye.

Suddenly, there’s a frog in your throat and you’re fourteen all over again. You’re flustered and drowning and totally unsure of yourself. “I didn’t say that,” you mutter, gaze flittering and smile wavering.

Steve goes to rest his elbow on the shelf again, then remembers its unsteadiness and decides against it. His arm rests awkwardly in the air for half a moment before he crosses both of them over his chest. 

“Well, I mean, you didn’t not say it, so…”

You squint up at him, busying your clammy hands with the melting ice cream in your palm. You know what he’s fishing for. Your pride urges you to stay silent even though your heart sings the sweetest songs for him. 

“You know you’re pretty, Steve,” you murmur matter of factly.

“But do you think I’m pretty?”

Your thundering heart lurches into your throat when Steve takes another small step closer. He smells like wintertime — like Christmas and nostalgia and boy. You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, so you nod, slow and sheepish.

“Good,” he hums with a beam he couldn’t hide if he tried. “‘Cause I think you’re pretty, too.”

Your chest gets all sparkly at his admission — the affirmation that all your girlish feelings are being reciprocated by a boy you never dreamed you could have. You don’t feel hardly deserving of the fondness dripping from his features, but you pray he never stops looking at you with it.

You grow warm with the irrational hope that he might kiss you. You think he might actually kiss you until your boss’s voice pierces the golden bubble of puppy love the both of you are basking in.

“How’s the decorating going?” Eddie announces himself, appearing suddenly between the two aisles.

Robin idles at his side. She’s in the feminine version of Steve’s sailor outfit — with silver chains around her neck and bandaids on her knees. Effortlessly endearing and totally unaware of it all.

You push Steve away from you without thinking, all but shoving the softening ice cream into his chest. Some of it smears white against the scarlet tie around his chest. “Sorry!” you exclaim in your moment of fleeting panic, then turn to Eddie with the same apologetic wince. “Sorry…” you repeat quieter.

“Robin?” Steve gapes at the sight of his best friend — apparently the second thing standing in his way, right beside the freak. “What the hell are you doing here— did you tattle on me? What are you, four?”

“I got lonely,” the brunette answers plainly. “And I knew you were around here somewhere, so I asked Eddie where you were—” She waves a pale hand your way, fingers painted with chipping maroon polish.  “—And now I’m here.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his wild head to his shoulder. “Yeah. Can’t believe you’re trying to taint my one good employee, Steven.”

“I’m not tainting anybody, Munson,” he bites back like a bickering brother, then screws up his face and turns to Robin. “Wait. If you’re here, who’s manning the counter?”

Her freckled face falls like a child caught in a fib. Her deep blue eyes widen when she blinks at him. In a mousier voice, she confesses, “Dustin came by… And I told him he could eat all the ice cream he wanted as long as he made sure no one stole anything.”

The four of you fall silent. The soft rock of Christmas Wrapping plays weakly from the radio at the front of the store. Eddie breaks first. ‘Cause he can’t ever be serious about anything. 

The boyish sound of his laughter sends a giggle sputtering from your lips. The pretty noise makes Steve smile despite his baffled disbelief.

He turns to you with a dumbfounded grin. “You’re still stopping by after work, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer softly, nodding as your smiling face grows hot.

Eddie scoffs when Steve walks by him. “If you still have a job by then.”

[oneofstarkskids]

a mistake

pairings: loki laufeyson x reader

genre: angst, fluffy-ish ending

summary: you're the first person he goes to when trouble finds him. why would this time be any different?

your hands shook as you held your cloak closed. you stood by the bank of the river, waiting. the moon light bounced off of the water, making it sparkle in the most curious way.

a voice spoke your name urgently. you spun around, shocked by its abruptness.

he was pale. paler than usual. with a crazed look in his blue eyes.

you reached for him, "what's happening?"

he grasped onto your arms. not in a forceful way, but to stabilize himself.

"we can't be here anymore," he said with a pained expression.

you shook your head, "what do you mean?"

"please, come with me. we can go anywhere. we can go to midgard or nidavellir. we could hide away on vanaheim. just the two of us," he begged and rambled on, seemingly unaware that you had no context.

of course, it struck you when he mentioned vanaheim. you'd always wanted to visit. he knew that. it was where your mother would've raised you, had she still been alive.

"loki, we can't just run away," you had to be the voice of reason.

"i cannot stay here," he stated.

he furrowed his dark brows and you could tell he'd felt betrayed.

"why not?" you tried.

loki practically shook with frustration, "i just can't!"

you hated to see him like this, but you didn't know how to help, "why not!?"

"you're supposed to be my dearest friend. can't you just trust me?" he paced back and forth.

you walked up to him and took his hands into your own. you inhaled deeply, expecting him to do the same. after a few moments of mirroring your actions and hearing your encouragements, he began to open up.

"they lied. they all lied to me. i was never..." he choked on the words. as if they were too painful to speak. "i was never supposed to be here."

you held his face in your hands, "loki, don't say that."

his eyes stung with tears, "i'm not one of them. i'm a monster, a mistake!" he was losing all of the restraint you'd helped him build.

you hated to hear him talk about himself like that, "no you're not-"

"you don't get it." he turned away from you.

all you could do was whisper his name softly. it became so incredibly quiet. the only sound was the wind ruffled leaves of the forest trees.

you reminded him who he was. an odinson. every bit as much as his brother. as you had done many times before. but this time...it was different.

"i don't belong," he said before turning his face towards you.

it was ice blue with markings carved into his features and his eyes were a shade of blood red.

for a single moment you froze. not because you were afraid, but because you were in complete shock.

"now you see. i'm not an odinson. i'm just a coverup for another one of odin's lies and mistakes," he said softly with a bitter tone.

your heart broke for the boy and you finally understood.

"loki, no. listen to me. you are the same boy that spoke to me that day in the garden when nobody else would. the same boy that would chase me around the palace. you're the same boy who trained with me in the stadium and frolicked beside me in the fields," you reminded him.

"the color of your eyes or of your skin could never change that."

he looked into your eyes and all you saw was a broken boy. never a monster.

you slowly reached your hand up, waiting for him to stop you. when he decided not to move, you placed your hands on either side of his face once more.

fresh, ice cold tears rolled down his cheeks and onto your skin. you rested your forehead against his.

"i followed you into battle for centuries. i will follow you wherever you go now," you promised.

[neil-gaiman]

Mr. Gaiman, I'm seriously burnt out. I grew up being constantly praised for my writing skills, but as I've grown older I feel like I've lost the ability to write. Especially in these last few months, words don't flow as naturally as they used to and I get caught up in stupid details, like spelling or grammar. The pressure from the adults in my life (and the school system, obviously) has caused me to lose my passion for writing. I feel, for once in my life, basically illiterate. I'm uninspired-beyond uninspired, even. All of my work feels derivative, and when I do write, like now for example, it's almost by a kind of muscle memory. It's scary, I've been told by my parents that writing is the only thing I have going for me. Mediocre grades, a 'meh' resume: I have nothing else under my belt. And that was okay. That used to be okay, because I knew that they were right. I was good, I was winning poetry contests and filling up notebooks with pretentious, tweenage musings. I was writing incredible songs every single day. I was churning out essays, and vignettes with a kind of consistency I would never dream of even attempting to recreate. But I burnt out, slowly. I didn't notice it, until it became so unbearable I couldn't disregard it anymore. Everything I write is awful. My essays are ramble-y and disorganized, all my songs sound the same. I sit down with the intention of writing something and I stare at that stupid, flickering google-doc mouse icon for hours before giving up completely. I feel dumb. I feel like a shitty replication of someone I used to be. I'm just pretending to be that smart, motivated person. Writing was my whole identity. It was what made me me. So what the am I supposed to do now? What if I can't find that passion again? How do I stop feeling like a fraud?

Maybe you just ran out of things to write about. Stop writing and go and do some living, and find other things to enjoy and other things to make. Get your heart broken. Get fired from a job or two. And one day you'll wake up and have lots of things to say and lots of things to write.

[sameheart-sameblood]

Love in the Time of Cordyceps

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. joel miller makes that rule hard to stick to

words: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of gore (pretty tame but still), swearing, sickness, angst, fluff, two dummies not realizing they love each other until one of them almost dies 🙄

a/n: this was supposed to be more angsty but then i remembered life is hard enough already. and i just want soft joel soooo here we are. also i meant to write 2k at most but boy do i love to ramble

read on ao3!

After the world goes to hell, you promise yourself you’ll never love again. A person, an animal, a place, nothing. Only a fool would choose to make themselves that vulnerable, needing every fiber of your being one hundred percent devoted to your survival and nothing more. 

Was a life without love worth living? Every time that question enters your mind, you swat it aside. It’s like a nagging fly that buzzes around you until your persistence finally drives it away completely. Of course you could live without love. You’d been doing it just fine these past fifteen years. 

Living without attachment proves useful in the new world you find yourself in. It makes the countless people you lose along the way easier to move on from. In the early days, your heart still twinges as the people around you drop like flies. Most fall victim to the bites of clickers, some to raiders’ gun, a few by their own hand. 

The first group you had travel with is filled with Midwesterners who see the terrors of the new world and still somehow have a smile and a joke for you. Their joviality can’t save them, though. Clickers swarm you one rainy night two years after the fall of civilization. The sight of Gail, a woman who reminds you of your grandmother, having her stomach ripped out by an especially voracious clicker cures you of your need for any connections to the living. 

Over the years, you make your way to the East Coast. Smiles, defiant in the face of adversity are replaced by permanent grimaces etched into the faces of everyone you meet. It seems as though every survivor has lost the ability for happiness of any kind. Good, you think, they’re finally learning. You wonder what took them so long. 

Tales of peace the Canadian wilderness has to offer reaches your ears. In your heart you know it is most likely a tall tale spread by desperate survivors. But the good thing about a zombie apocalypse is you now have nothing but time on your hands. Working your way north, if all goes well, you’ll reach Saint John by May, continue to Port Elgin and then decide if you’d try for Prince Edward Island or turn east to Nova Scotia. 

Plans are made to be broken, though, and yours, along with your ankle, break clean through one day as you make your way through Boston. It would have been over for you if not for the two survivors that find you nursing your injury in a department store that will most likely be swarming with clickers by nightfall. 

The woman, after she puts her gun away, introduces herself as Tess. The man doesn’t offer his name, preferring to keep the barrel of his shotgun pointed at you. As they argue quietly over what to do with you, you observe their faces. Both are etched hard with years of loss and worry. Even harder than your joyless face. It’s impressive albeit in a sad kind of way. 

Tess had somehow persuades the man to help you back to the Boston QZ. Joel. You hear her call him Joel. “Fine,” he had grumbles as he places your arm over his shoulder for support, “but if she scans red, I will not hesitate to put her down.” Oddly enough his threat somehow makes you almost like him. You sense a kindred spirit. Another follower of the “no love, no attachment” way of life. 

You do not, in fact, scan red and are allowed to enter the QZ. An apartment is assigned to you, a crappy little studio with faded lime green paint. The old you would have adored it, called it quirky and planned out how best to decorate it with your meager funds. The new you just appreciates a safe place to sleep. 

After your ankle heals, Tess invites you to join her smuggling scheme. Thoughts of Canada flee your mind for the time-being and you gladly welcome something to keep yourself occupied. 

“But what about the cowboy?” you ask. 

“Joel? What about him?”

Your eyebrows arch, “He threatened to shoot me.”

“Only if you were infected. Just don’t get infected.” She says it like you’re discussing the weather. 

Joel allows you into the group begrudgingly, probably because he thinks they can use you as bait or a distraction if needed. Fine. Let them label you bait. You’ve been called worse before. 

The first few months working together are tense. Joel reprimands you for the smallest mistakes and warns Tess you’ll get them all killed. At first, you bite your tongue, reminding yourself of the part he had in saving you. But one night after he scolds you for the millionth time about not checking your blind spots for clickers, you snap. “Fuck off, Joel! I survived the clickers for fifteen years. I think I know what I’m fucking doing!.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, wandering off with a hurt pout like he wasn’t the one who was just being the asshole. You wonder why your victory leaves you feeling hollow. 

After that, Joel keeps his mouth shut around you. No nagging, no “helpful” tips. Just the bare minimum of whatever he needs to convey. You’ll never admit that it hurts. You don’t have to, though. Tess, at the end of her rope, explodes one night as the three of you eat dinner in awkward silence. “Couple of fuckin’ babies I’m working with,” she seethes. “If you don’t grow up I’m finding a new crew.”

It’s decided that you and Joel will do the next supply run to Bill’s. Alone. No Tess there to act as buffer between you and him. Joel grunts at that but doesn’t argue, always deferring to your leader. The trip to Bill’s goes as well as you can ask. There are no arguments between the two of you at least. You’re sure you even see Joel crack a smile. Of course it’s when you clumsily tripped over a raised tree root…But hey, progress is progress.

With the supplies in tow and Frank’s compound behind you, you actually think this trip might be a success. A gang of raiders lying in wait to sabotage you dashes your hopes of that. They had seen the two of you lugging your supplies and thought it would be an easy win. At first, they are correct. They outnumber you and Joel in size and wickedness. The four of them aren’t content to kill you outright. They tie you up and discuss what to do with you next. 

Of course their attention quickly falls on you. The man with an ugly gash across his face leers at you. “Maybe we should keep her around awhile. She looks like fun.” Try as you might to act tough, that sends the blood rushing through your ears. 

You almost don’t hear Joel snarl at them. “You lay one finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” The venom in his voice snaps you back to reality. While their attention is on him, you discreetly start ripping at your bonds with the little pocket knife you thankfully decided to stow in your back pocket. 

They beat Joel senseless by the time you get free. You honestly think you’re too late as you stab the goon nearest to you in the thigh, by some miracle hitting his femoral artery. The others turn to you, blindsided as you go wild at the sight of your bloodied and broken companion. Gash-Face comes roaring at you, all brawn no brains. The look of surprise as you lodge the knife in his neck makes you smile with sickening glee. 

The remaining two corner you, murder in their eyes. Your gun is just beyond them, taunting you to come retrieve it. The only “weapon” you have is the belt you’re wearing, it’s clasp heavy and silver. You undo it and swing it at the nearest man. He grabs it, cackling victoriously as he uses it to pull you closer. In their grasp, you become the target of their blows. You curl into the fetal position, angry that after all the near death experiences you’ve had, this will be the way you go out. 

A shot rings out, then another. Two thuds on the ground next to you make you open your already swollen eyes. As you look up, you realize your savior is Joel. Back from the dead. His face is covered in blood, like some kind of ghoul. But in that moment, you have never seen someone look more like an angel. The two of you limp back to the QZ where Tess nurses you as she simultaneously curses the deceased thugs. 

Joel corners you in the bathroom the next day as you study your bruised face. “You could have run,” he hisses at you, making you jump. You don’t know what he wants so you just shrug. He invades your space, making you back against the counter. “Why didn’t you run?” His voice has gone low, anger simmering just beneath the surface. 

Faces inches from each other, all you can muster is a weak, “We’re a team. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Several emotions flicker across his face in quick succession. Anger, fear, worry and something you can’t quite put your finger on. Pride? Maybe that was you projecting but you hope you were right. Joel studies you for a moment longer, then reiterates, “Next time, you run.”

******

After that, things change. Joel is still a man of few words but the ones he does grace you with are softer and more intentional. Instead of berating you for the knowledge and skills you lack, he takes them time to teach you. He shows you how to identify fake ration cards and to spot the kind of guard you can bribe. Nights are spent with you following behind him like a shadow as he shows you all the secret ways in and out of the QZ. When your hands shake during target practice, he places his calloused ones over yours. It steadies your hands but frays your nerves, threatening to awake a feeling long thought dormant. 

It goes both ways. Joel lacks attention to detail in certain situations and you show him how to read people and ascertain their flaws that can be exploited. During your runs you point out the flora that can be consumed safely or used as medicine. At Flynn’s, the only bar in the QZ, you teach him how to play pool. An essential to survival? No. But it sure helps you win a huge stash of ration cards from your fellows survivors. It also gives you an excuse to sidle up behind him and mold your body around his, all in the name of helping him get the “proper pool stance.”

Your excuses to fleetingly touch one another became more and more common. They are all perfectly innocent but carry the weight of something elicit, at least to you. Joel is never one to give away his innermost thoughts, happy to wear a permanent poker face. For all you know he couldn’t care less about you. Maybe he just knows keeping you alive is good for business and that’s why he takes a particular interest in making sure you’re safe. Whatever the reason, you hope he never stops. 

******

During one supply run, a torrential thunderstorm forces you to spend the night at Bill and Frank’s. You know it makes Joel nervous to be indebted to anyone for such hospitality but you can’t hide your glee. A night there means a cozy bed and a hot shower, something hard to find in your home where the water runs tepid at best. 

Afterwards spending way too long in the bathroom, you curl up in your bed, toasty and content, only to find sleep won’t not come. Your hosts are dear to you, even the grumpy Bill, but their snoring through the wall you share makes hopes for a deep sleep impossible. 

After an hour of tossing and turning, you decide to go make your bed on the couch. As you tiptoe down the stairs you run into Joel, on his way up . “Going somewhere?” he drawls, exhaustion making his voice deeper than usual. You shrug, “Couldn’t sleep. There are two buzzsaws in the room next door.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ve had that room before. Can’t say it was the best night of sleep I’ve ever had.” You lived for these little snippets into Joel’s life before you came around, always eager to hear more. But the trek to the house through never-ending sleet and over the turbulent river left you more tired than you had felt in years. Right now all you want is to get where you could pass out immediately. “I’m just gonna make camp on the couch,” you say, stifling a yawn. 

Joel shakes his head. “You take my room. The couch is good enough for me.” This man. Hadn’t anyone told him chivalry is dead. You sigh tiredly and beckon for him to come back up the stairs with you. “It’s a big bed. We can share.” There is silence behind you where there should have been footsteps. Joel’s smile disappears as his forehead creases in thought. “Please,” you pout, “I can’t sleep in my room and I won’t get any rest knowing you’re crammed on that dainty little loveseat.”

It takes far more coaxing than it should but finally Joel gives you a little nod and follows you into his - your - room. You gesture to the bed, “Care which side you get?” Joel thinks, then shrugs. “Left is good.” You flop onto the right side, eyes immediately drooping shut. Once again, there is no movement from your companion. Without opening your eyes, you chide him, “If you’re gonna be weird and watch me sleep all night then you can go sleep on the couch.” That got him moving again. 

The sound of the shower turning on lulls you to a sleep that is disturbed only when you feel the dip of the bed several minutes later. You watch through barely opened eyes as Joel does a strange shimmy under the covers. It’s clear he’s trying his best not to wake you. The sight makes you laugh softly and his head whips to you. 

“Thought you were asleep,” he murmurs. 

You hum, “I was. You woke me up.” 

It’s meant to be a joke but Joel grimaces. “Sorry.”

The sight is sweet and your heart flips, his frown making him look almost boyish. “It’s ok. It’s your bed.” 

As you burrow into your cocoon of blankets, Joel props himself up, a pillow behind his back. He looks from you to the bedside lamp and back again. “You mind if I read for a few minutes?” 

That surprises you. In all your time together you had rarely seen Joel do something just for the pleasure of it. There was usually no time. But Bill and Frank’s is a sanctuary and even the hyper-vigilant Joel Miller is able to slow down here. You nod enthusiastically, perking up. “What are you reading?” 

It’s like you had asked him what his darkest secret was. He reddens, then finally grabs a book from the table. Pride and Prejudice. He stammers, “It’s just…I never had a lot of time for reading before and this was a favorite of…it was a favorite of somebody I knew.”

“You can read out loud to me if you want,” you offer with a grin. Honestly it was half in jest and half a serious hope. It had been decades since anyone had read aloud to you. Joel, always thinking you were making some sort of fun of him, smirks sarcastically. “Not a chance.” 

Your glower slowly melts away at the sight of him putting on his reading glasses and settling in. Silently you curse as you feel your hardened heart crack just the tiniest bit. Idiot that you are, you try to talk yourself out of your own feelings. You aren’t attached to Joel. How could you be? He’s just a handsome, rugged man who keeps you safe and reads Jane Austen in his spare time. Maybe some lesser fool would fall for him but not you. No, sir.

The next morning, you find yourself curled into him, chest pressed against his back and arm draped over his side. Like a bomb diffuser, you carefully try to extricate yourself from the position, every movement slow and precise. Joel, still asleep, lazily grabs your hand, keeping your arm around him. He sighs contentedly as you settle back down and you swear under your breath, nestling your head at the crook of his neck. You are so that lesser fool. 

******

The thunderstorms of summer give way to the pleasant days of autumn. Those good days don’t seem to last long enough. You should have appreciated them more while they were there but so is the way of being human. 

Winter in Boston isn’t fun. Ok that’s an understatement. It makes you long for the soul-sucking, never-ending Midwestern winters you had lived through for most of your life. There is something about being next to the ocean that makes everything feel colder. 

The nights are especially hard, the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls of your apartment. No matter how many blankets you tuck around yourself, your body never truly feels warm. Runs to Bill’s or anywhere outside the QZ become less frequent and more difficult. Only those deemed truly necessary are attempted and even then there is always a long discussion beforehand weighing out the pros and cons. 

Runs between the months of November and January are too risky and after much debate, it  is decided you three would lay low in the relative safety of the QZ. In the meantime, you’d assess your stockpile, make connections over the radio and wait for the spring thaw. With less food smuggled in from the outside, you decide to put your energy into earning ration cards. Even though no one could argue you don’t pull your weight in the group, you often feel like the weak link. Making sure Tess and Joel have a hot meal every night is the least you could do. 

Joel had always told you to stay away from sewer work. It paid double what the other jobs did but at a high risk. Besides not being able to wash the stink off for days, the tunnels under the city were treacherous. Many had gone down there only to be blindsided by a stray clicker or jumped by a loner who made their home away from society up above. Some just got lost in the labyrinth, never to be heard from again. Or at least you had been told. You hoped those were just myths. 

You and three other desperate souls are sent down to the sewers with the task of clearing the rubble from a recent cave in. A hard day’s work definitely but you were optimistic that you could get it done in a few hours time and be on your way.

The first few hours go well, the biggest pieces of the concrete being cleared easily enough. Your back aches and callouses quickly form on your palms. But still, all of that you can deal with, mollifying yourself with the thought of the stack of ration cards you’ll proudly gift to Joel and Tess. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been daydreaming you would have heard the shouts of your fellow volunteers sooner. Finally coming back to reality, you move just in time to avoid another piece of falling rock. You save yourself from being crushed but lose your footing, coming down hard on your shin. 

A stream of bright blood instantly trickles from the gash and you swear as you try to keep the tears that spring to your eyes at bay. Wanting to prove yourself, you brush off your group’s insistence that you go get it checked by the doctor. It doesn’t matter if you complete ninety percent of your shift. You still don’t get your payment if you leave early. So you suck it up for another hour, slogging through the muck as you finish the job. It’s fine, you tell yourself, it’s just a scratch. You’ll wash it off when I get home and be good as new. 

With the job done and ration cards tucked away in your pocket, you hobble back towards your apartment. The thought of a shower, as lukewarm as it will be, is the only thing keeping you upright. That is until you feel someone putting your arm around their shoulder. Joel helps you the few blocks to your house, his icy silence hurting you more than the cut that now throbs with every jostle. 

It’s only after you get inside and are deposited on the couch that Joel speaks. He rolls up the leg of your jeans, cursing as he sees the already festering wound. “I told you to stay out of the sewers.” 

You suck in a pained breath as he starts wiping away the dirt. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Besides, it was worth it,” you pull out the stack of ration cards and present them to him proudly. The sight gives him pause. But the look on his face isn’t one of gratitude, it’s worried exasperation. His signature grimace returns, “It’s not worth it if you lose your leg.” And people claim you’re dramatic. 

Pushing him away with a shoo, you rise, limping to the bathroom. “I just need a shower. Then I’ll be right as rain.” As you peel off your now ruined clothes, Joel hovers on the other side of the door. “I can hear you pacing,” you call over the sound of the warming shower. 

Even through the almost closed door you can hear Joel sigh. “I just think we should take you to the doc. Make sure you’re alright.” The water hitting you makes you audibly moan, the filth on your body washing down the drain and with it, the memory of the hard day. You appreciate the concern but all you want to do know is forget about the day. You call out to a still pacing Joel, “I’m fine. You worry too much!”

******

It turns out Joel worries the right amount. Of course he does. As eager as you are to forget about your day, it’s not long before you can’t ignore your leg. The wound is an angry red and the area around it has swollen, leaving it tender and throbbing. Thankfully you have Joel there to dress it because, honestly, you can’t stomach the sight of it. These past years have been filled with much blood and gore at your own hands. But there’s something different when it’s your own blood. 

In any other circumstance you would have reveled in the feeling of Joel holding your leg so tenderly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wraps the bandage around you. It would have driven you insane seeing him crouched in between your legs as he is now. But at the moment all you can think about is how you much pain you’re in. 

You try not to show your discomfort, but your poker face is nonexistent. Joel’s eyes flick up to yours as you slowly exhale, trying to keep calm. Avoidance has always been one of your favorite tactics when dealing with uncomfortable situations so you pipe up, overly perkily, “See? All better. Now about those ration cards, I was thinking for dinner-“ 

Joel rolls his eyes, standing with a groan, his knees audibly cracking. “The only thing you’re gonna do tonight is rest.”

You slowly turn your body to prop your leg up on a pillow as he watches. Pouting has never worked on Joel but you figure it never hurts to try. “I still have to eat,” you mope. 

“You will. I’ll open a can of soup or something.”

The disappointment is real and bubbles to the surface quicker than you realized it would. “I just wanted us all to have a nice dinner. You and Tess do so much and I feel like…” Thinking how you feel is different from saying it out loud and you have to psych yourself up. Joel’s softening gaze helps you continue. “I feel like I’m useless. I just thought this was one thing I could do to really contribute.”

The silence between you feels heavy as you avoid his stare. Finally, he speaks, confusion contorting his features, “Of course you contribute. We wouldn’t have kept you around if you hadn’t.” It’s meant to make you feel better but it doesn’t, especially in your current laid up state. 

“So are you going to get rid of me if I’m no longer useful?” you gesture at your leg, feeling your eyes beginning to sting with tears. 

Joel sits down next to you. Your fear has made you defiant and you meet his gaze, wanting to fight. But Joel speaks in a soft, level voice, as if teaching a child a lesson. “First of all, you’re going to get better. You just need to be patient. Second, you’re thinking there’s only one kind of way to be useful.”

“I can’t shoot like you two can. I can’t fight. I can’t threaten people into getting what I want. I can go on runs and earn ration cards. That’s it. I’m too soft for anything actually important.” 

Joel frowns, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. ‘Being soft’ in a world like this is an act of defiance. It’s brave as hell. What you consider important? I don’t want that for you.”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you observe him. He’s trying so hard to find his next words, to make you believe his truth. “Me and Tess, we let the world harden us more than it needed to. It was easier that way. But having you around reminds us there’s still innocence and good out there.”

The angry tears have turned to ones of gratitude. The sentiment is too much for you, unused to such vulnerability from Joel. You give him a small smile and he returns it, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You’re useful just being you.”

While you still wish you matched Joel and Tess’ levels of badassery, the conversation helps ease your mind. You might not think much of your survival skills but you remind yourself that you’ve stayed alive in a world that wants you dead. Fifteen years you’ve been fighting and surviving and that’s nothing to look down on. 

“And for what it’s worth, “ he adds, “you scared the hell out of me the first time we met.”

You grin at him, shocked, “Really?”

He nods, smirking cheekily, “Really. Still do sometimes.”

******

Joel heats up a can of tomato soup for you to share. You try not to think of how old it must be as he prepares it. But actually, it’s not bad, the taste reminding you of your childhood. 

It also helps that you’re sharing it with someone you care about. A part of you hates that how easily you’ve let him into your heart. The one thing you swore off all those years ago is now all you can think about as you watch him sitting across from you, ladling out the steaming liquid. 

He catches you staring and breaks the silence, “Were you even going to tell me you got hurt today if I hadn’t run into you.” The fuzziness of your feelings for him makes your brain a little mushy and instead of having a grownup conversation, you reply with a childish, “No, I thought I’d let it be a soup-rise.” 

Joel rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. You chuckle and continue eating your rapidly cooling dinner. You sober up a bit and add, “The extra ration cards will be good, though. Right?” 

He nods, “Yeah. I think it’s soup-er.” His eyes flick up to yours as they crinkle, the only sign that he finds himself amusing. 

After dinner, Joel excuses himself to go work his overnight shift. When he leaves and you’re left along, the throbbing in your leg returns with a vengeance along with a mild fever. Your usually chilly apartment now feels stuffy and you have to remove all of your layers except your t-shirt to be even somewhat comfortable. 

Worry creeps in as you sit there, alone and increasingly unwell. You long for the company of Joel or Tess, anyone to reassure you that you’re fine. But you’re alone and the dark thoughts creep in, whispering in your ear that whatever is brewing is not good. Unsure of what else to do, you slip in to bed, hoping that whatever this is will be better by morning. 

******

You don’t wake for two days. Or at least, you have no real memory of the past 48 hours. Later, when the worst is over, Joel will tell you the details of that lapse in your memory. He’ll recount how you faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes submitting to your fever for so long that he wasn’t sure you were coming back. His voice will waver as he remembers how bad it got and how fragile you looked…

But for now, he stays by your side, foregoing his own health to make sure you stay alive. The first thing you remember is waking up to the sounds of Joel and Tess arguing in hushed tones. 

“We need to get her to a doctor. Now.” Joel’s voice sounds strained, like he’s trying desperately not to lose it. 

Tess still maintains her signature composure. “We can’t, Joel. It’s too late for that.”

Joel must make some kind of face because Tess sighs and re-words. “It’s too late to take her in because if we bring her to the hospital all they’ll focus on is her fever. They’ve put people down for way less. You know that.”

In your addled state, you wonder who they’re talking about. Your throat hurts to much to speak up though and ask. 

“The doc will give us the meds. We’ve bribed him before.” 

Tess shakes her head, “Antibiotics are on lockdown. Shipments have been delayed because of the weather. No one gets any without FEDRA knowing. Breaking in guarantees we get caught. We’re no good to her dead. ”

Joel scoffs, “So what do you suggest we do?”

“She rides it out.”

“She’s been ‘riding it out’ for two days. Look at her,” Joel’s voice gets closer as he peers down at you, “she’s fighting but she’s losing.”

Oh. Fever may have taken hold of you, making your brain fuzzy and concentration near impossible, but you understand now that you are the subject of their argument. For Joel to sound so forlorn you must look bad. 

If you’re dead soon, you want to let them know to leave it and just let you slip away. Your well-being means nothing if it puts them in unnecessary danger. Rule be damned, they’re your family now and you care about them. If you’re being honest, you’ve cared about them since you met them. It breaks your heart thinking you won’t be able to tell them that now. It nearly kills you right then and there to know you won’t get the chance to tell Joel you love him…

Opening your mouth to articulate all of that takes great effort and when you do try and speak, all that comes out is a strangled groan. The two rush over, Tess sitting down beside you. She takes your hand, an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. Yep, you’re dying. 

“You’re ok, kid,” she whispers, “you just have to hang in there.” It would be easy to ignore reality and blindly trust her. But you’ve always been stubborn and so you shake your head and continue trying to speak. Again, nothing comes out but garbled nonsense as you writhe around trying to make your limbs do what your brain wants. 

You must look a sight because Joel lets his anger overflow. “Maybe you can sit here and watch her die, but I can’t.”Heavy footsteps and Tess yelling are all that you can focus on as you fade back into oblivion. 

******

Living is hard and unconsciousness is addicting. Peaceful and cozy are feelings you can scarcely remember having. It would be easy to stay in that enveloping darkness but the feeling of the back of someone’s hand on your clammy forehead pulls you back to the realm of the living. You grumble weakly as you’re made to come to. 

Everything is painful. Stabbing jolts of electricity radiate up your leg from the cut. Your chest is tight, making breathing troublesome and your eyes can barely stand the dim, watery sun coming through the shades of the window. Someone places a damp cloth on your forehead to keep the fever at bay. Still out of it, you try and swat it away. 

A gentle hand grabs yours, shushing you. “It’s alright. It’s only me.” 

Joel. Maybe you have died and this is heaven. The man you love by your side, nursing you so tenderly. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for. This might be the afterlife believers talk about if only you weren’t in so much pain. The neurons in your brain begin firing more rapidly as your fever dies down. They remind you that you and Joel aren’t lovers. Your cowardice, disguised as intelligence, has kept you from telling him how you feel. 

“What’s happening?” Your voice comes out croaky and soft but at least it’s intelligible. The bed dips as Joel moves closer to you. As you peer up through barely opened eyelids you can see him leaning over you. His tired eyes look down at you as he caresses your hair. 

“You got real sick, honey. That cut you got festered and turned into a fever. We thought we were gonna lose you.” The slight falter in his voice makes your already tight chest contract. 

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. We got you some meds, though. You’re gonna be ok.” He says it firmly, which does some good in easing your worry. 

Trying to open your eyes a bit more you continue your questioning, “Where did you get the antibiotics from?”

Joel hesitates, “Bill and Frank had some.”

You try and sit up, angry that he made that trip and put himself in danger. Even now, you can see the snow whipping around outside your window. Knowing he made the trek there and back through that storm makes you curse. Joel tuts and puts a gentle hand to your chest, keeping you down and resting. 

“It’s done. No use getting angry about it now.”

You glare up at him even though you’re really just upset with yourself. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

His smiles peacefully down at you, exhausted but eyes bright. “We’re a team, remember?”

It’s too much for you to handle. You cover your face just in time to hide the angry, relieved and grateful tears that spring to your eyes. Silent sobs wrack your frame, making you seize with pain. 

Joel pulls you into him, shushing you as he resumes stroking your hair. You hide your face in his side, trying to regain your composure. Crying shouldn’t be something you feel the need to earn. But you’re all sorts of broken, so you take this rare opportunity to not judge yourself and weep with abandon. You almost died, for Christ’s sake. Surely that warrants some show of emotion.

After a few minutes, the tears stop and your breathing calms. Peeking up, you see Joel has his eyes closed. His face is the most serene you’ve seen it in ages, most of the worry lines softened. There’s still a few that refuse to relax, though. The crease in between his eyebrows remains stubbornly indented. You gaze up at him as he continues to run soothing patterns along your back. 

Feeling the weight of your stare, he opens his eyes. Coward that you are, you glance away. “Thank you,”is all you can mumble out as he gazes at you. After a moment, you add a shy, “I would do the same for you. You know that, right?”

Joel pulls you gently into him, almost to remind himself you’re still here with him and that the danger has passed. He nuzzles into your hair, murmuring an affectionate“I know, honey. I know.”

******

After a few more hours and another dose of antibiotics, you begin to feel more like yourself. Joel still won’t let you get out of bed yet, except for a trip to the bathroom for a quick shower. Even though you’ve been dead to the world for much of your ordeal, you’re quickly getting bored with bed rest. But you’ve learned long ago that resistance is futile with Joel. So you shower like a good patient, scowling as the water hits your scabbing cut. 

Once you finish, Joel hops in and washes the grime and worry of the past three days off. As you settle back in bed, you can hear him singing softly to himself. Through the patter of the water you can hear his soft rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird. It’s one of your favorites, too, and you hum along as you settle back into your pillow. 

After a few minutes, sleep still won’t come. You toss and turn as Joel finishes getting ready for bed. He comes in to find you still awake. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.” He says it like a loving mother gently scolding their rebellious child. 

You flail as you try and get comfortable. You shoot back a moody, “But I’m just not tired.” Joel chuckles as he sits down into the arm chair next to your bed. He smooths back his wet hair and gives you a faux stern look. “Your body’s been through a lot. You need rest.”

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

Joel looks confused, wondering what he did wrong. “Sorry I just thought I’d sleep here tonight in case you need anything. I can leave, though.” 

“No!” you yell out, completely abandoning any hope of looking cool. You give him an apologetic smile, “I want you to stay but you’re not sleeping in that chair one more night.”

Joel glances to the spot on the bed beside you, then looks to you for confirmation. He sighs, a smile playing at his lips. “If I stay will you promise to go to sleep?”

You nod very seriously. “Of course.”

Joel grins, knowing you too well to believe you. “Liar,” he chuckles but still gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed. You pull back the blankets so can get in, then cover him up. Settling on your side, you watch as he suddenly looks lost, unsure of what to do now. It’s cute, this powerful man rendered helpless by something as innocuous as sharing a bed. 

You can’t help but laugh at him and he looks down at you, eyes wide. Taking pity on him, you make a suggestion. “If you’re not tired you could read to me.” Joel opens his mouth to refuse but you blurt out a quick, “I did almost die, you know.” He glares at you but his lip quirks up. He grabs the book from the other room then flops back down in bed, opening to a spot in the middle. 

Frowning, you reach out to touch Joel’s arm. “Do you mind starting from the beginning?” He rolls his eyes but flips back to the first page. You grin triumphantly as you settle into his side. Joel places his arm around your shoulder as he begins to read. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…” 

His southern drawl mixed with the Romantic Era style of writing makes for an amusing but  pleasant combination. After a few chapters, your eyes get heavy and Joel feels you nodding off against him. Jane has just been invited to Netherfield Park but even that can’t keep you awake. Joel puts the bookmark in to save your spot and places the novel on your bedside table. 

You grumble in weak protest as he tucks you in and turns off the light. “We can keep reading tomorrow. But right now you’re going to sleep.” Joel lies down beside you and with the pale light of the moon through your curtains you can see him studying you. He caresses your face and you close your eyes, delighting in the sensation. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispers. 

You force your eyes open, needing him to see the truth of it when you pledge a soft,“I won’t. I mean it.”

Joel nods gratefully and you reach out for him. He slides into your arms and you rest your chin on the top of his head. He’s watched over you for long enough. It’s your turn to take care of him and reassure him that, in this moment, you both are safe. 

For most, an outright admission of affection is needed to understand how you feel about the other person. But you and Joel are cut from the same cloth, stubborn and slow to reveal your feelings. In this world, for people like you, ’I love yous’ are rare and replaced with actions and deeds. 

You realize that even though you've never told Joel that you love him, you’ve shown it. Joel has been showing you all this time too and you were just too dull to realize it. While you know you’ll long to say the words to him soon, for now it’s enough to have him in your arms. 

Joel’s breathing deepens and you feel him completely give himself over to sleep. Looking at his face bathed in the moonlight he looks like a new man. His edges soften and his vulnerability brims to the surface. It tugs at your heart and you understand how rare of a sight this is for Joel to allow anyone to see. 

Smiling sleepily, you close your eyes and nestle into him. This feeling coursing through you is something foreign but familiar, an old friend you thought you had said your final goodbye to long ago. The love you have for Joel will leave you vulnerable. But it’s a price you’re willing to pay a thousand times over. 

******

[thegoldencontracts]

Hi

What do you think about Self aware!Housewardens and what are your Headcanons for them HSBSJJAJAJAHA idk I've been into ddlc recently.

FELLOW DDLC + TWST FAN SPOTTED I MUST RAMBLE

I'm going to make more specific fics with this later because who doesn't like self-aware AUs? Probably someone but that someone is not me

Ignorance is Bliss

The housewardens of Night Raven College come to a crippling realization about the truth of their world. They all handle it in different ways.

Riddle, who knows he's in a game, that everyone here is fake. What did he learn all these rules for? What was the point of his suffering? He's just a character to be watched by others for amusement's sake. Was the Queen of Hearts a mere character too? Did any of this have meaning? But then he sees you. You're real, and he's enraptured. What are the rules of your world, the real world where life isn't some story to be played? Though Riddle can't help but envy you, he really does wish to get to know you better.

Leona is hit by the revelation after his overblot. Everything he's gone through was all a part of some game. Just a way to keep players entertained. You're real. You'll never have to deal with the crippling realization that everything you say's a part of some script, that whole life's a game you'll never be able to leave. More than anything, Leona hates the fact that he knows your kindness towards him is all fake, but he still can't help but be captivated.

Azul is envious, just like Leona. He's gone through all of this just for entertainment? His overblot, his family, his world- none of it was real? And you're there, watching his suffering like it's some game for you to play, because that's really all it is. A game. He's a character in a game. But, seeing how real you are, even if your words are conveyed through the black sprite of a self-insert protagonist, how genuine your kindness is - it draws him in. He's meant to be a cold, rational individual, but perhaps he can be a bit softer with you. You won't mock him. You won't leave. And besides, if this really is some odd game, can't Azul get more of your gems with gap Moe?

Kalim is rather accepting of his circumstances. Sure, he's heartbroken to see the truth - that his whole life's a part of some gacha game meant to make some massive corporation called Disney more money, but can he really do anything about it? Besides, Kalim has always been someone who believes in making the best of the terrible hand he's been dealt. He's stayed kind in the face on constant poisoning attempts, and he's kept his heart in a world where there was no one he could trust. And in his attempts to make the best of his situation, he can't help but get closer to you. After all, you're a real person, and you don't gain anything from turning on him. You appreciate his kindness, and even if there's a fourth-wall separating the two of you, Kalim's grateful.

Vil is shaken by the revelation. This is all a game? You're just here to be entertained? But in spite of how worldview-shattering the realization that he's just a game character meant to Garner profit is, he can't help but he oddly comforted. Nothing's wrong with him. Neige 's performance was supposed to be worse than his, and the ordeal at VDC was just as unfair as he thought. Though Vil isn't exactly fine and dandy, he's not quite broken either. And, in the actual fanbase of this game he's in, people like him better than Neige? And you're one of those people? If it turns out you write fanfic or draw fanart of him, he'll be very appreciative.

Idia's shocked. His brother's death, his overblot, all the overblots, they were setups for him to be a character in some non-otome gacha game? It's weird. Idia's all too used to not being in control of his life, though. He just tries to cope in any way he can. He's definitely going to try and learn about his fandom, what type of ships and fanfic and fanart and the like are made about him. He's one of the most likely to try and ask you about the fandom. If you make fancontent for him, he's going to be especially interested. Be warned, though, he will nitpick your characterization of him so hard. At least your stats are better now, I guess?

Malleus is already an isolated individual, and now you're telling him what little connection to others he has is fake? In all honesty, he's definitely the most attached to you out of all the dorm heads. You're the only real friend he'll ever be able to have. The only real friend any of them will ever be able to have. He does find comfort in his massive fanbase, though. You're telling him all these people care for him, and because of the difference in the way time passes in game vs in reality, they won't die in a matter of what feels like seconds for him? As shaken as he is by everything, it really is a comfort.

[wonily]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀🎀﹕butterflies, butterflies!

♡ — giving enhypen butterflies

warnings : mentions of food & metaphorically passing out (ni-ki's part)

[ lily’s rambles : another repost from my old blog <3 this was one of my favorites and... i wrote it during my first period class ]

other members under the cut!

heeseung !

when heeseung put up an ad for a roommate (to split costs because he’s a broke college student :<) he did not expect a very, very cute person to see the ad. when he opened the door the day you were supposed to take a tour of the apartment, he did not expect to see a very, very cute person in front of him.

except he did :D and he forgot how to breathe. you were so cute !! and you were just smiling at him from his doorway with the biggest, kindest, brightest smile ever and he had to shake himself out of his trance to welcome you into his apartment. and that’s when he saw the steam rising and he could’ve sworn that his heart exploded.

you were holding a tray of ramen :( the same one he said he really liked on the ad he had posted. he had to stop himself from dramatically falling to his knees and clutching his heart because butterflies just exploded inside of him because wowie he thinks he just met the one, the only love of his life.

jay !

GAHH!!! you’ve broken him from the moment he laid eyes on you but he’s never going to let you know that. you were a new employee at the cute little dessert cafe he frequented and the moment he walked in, you took his breath away and replaced it with butterflies.

considering it was your first day, you didn’t know his usual coffee order so he took it as an opportunity to talk to you and when you told him it was your first day, he even asked you what your favorite dessert was !!

you shyly handed him his order and he retreated to the table that he always sat at (that was seemingly reserved just for him at this point) and his coffee tasted even better today because you had made it.

before he left, he bought the dessert that you had said was your favorite, smiled kindly, and handed it to you, now effectively leaving you flustered and, because he comes in everyday, him buying you a dessert became a tradition because he was still a little too scared to ask you out :< but it’s all worth it because the butterflies in his stomach go crazy around you.

jake !

he met you at the dog park while he was with layla :( layla was so happy to be running out and about, especially with her other friends that she had met the other times she’d come to this dog park.

but !! she spotted a new little dog shyly hiding behind someone (your) leg and immediately ran up to it and barked happily. the dog whimpered, still scared of its new surroundings and jake, seeing this, ran to tell layla to relax a little and he did, but he immediately closed his mouth after because he saw you and you were so cute :(

you giggled and assured him that it was okay and your dog would eventually warm up to layla and he just nodded because he was too scared to open his mouth, because he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from blurting out “YOU’RE CUTE”.

but he eventually started conversing with you because your dog was now besties with layla and they were practically attached to each other and then, he regained his confidence and asked you to go to the park again because layla would miss your dog :(((

sunghoon !

there’s no specific thing that you do that gives sunghoon butterflies… it’s more like your whole existence just makes his heart flutter. for example, when he first saw you outside the ice rink.

it was just a passing glance, he was just scoping out the area to make sure that he didn’t have to hide and the moment his eyes fell on you, he actually thought he was part of a kdrama where they play excessive music during an intense staring scene except he was the only one staring.

but of course, life is not a kdrama and he entered the ice skating rink. but, it turns out, he was absolutely positively wrong because his life is a kdrama !! he was just minding his own business, doing a little twirl in the air when he felt himself collide with someone and he immediately turned around to see you on the ice.

he helped you up, stammering apologies profusely and he was absolutely mortified when he realized that you were the very, very cute person he had seen outside. he was kind of frozen for a couple seconds as you assured him that you were fine and :DDD sunghoon’s back !! so what does he do? he takes on his ice prince duties and offers to buy you a hot chocolate (and when he doesn’t buy one for himself, he says it’s because he doesn’t like hot chocolate but that’s a lie !! he’s just feeling all warm and fluffy inside because you give him butterflies !!)

sunoo !

sunoo didn’t even realize he had a crush on you :< he’s always assumed that the fluttering feeling in his stomach when he saw you were simply friendly feelings because he’s always had such a bright outlook on life.

but oh, did he forget how to breathe when one day, you walked into class and gave him the brightest smile he’s ever seen. it was like fresh flowers were blooming out of his chest and butterflies were fluttering around in his heart and that was when he decided your smile was his happiness.

and from that day on, he tried his best to make you smile because the only thing that made him happier than your smile was the fact that he was the reason for your precious smile.

he literally lives for your smile :> if the two of you weren’t close before, you certainly are now because bit by bit you became friends and you, of course, have no problem with it because he’s literal sunshine !! and you smile whenever he smiles so :3 it’s a win-win for both of you– you smile and his heart goes boom boom !!

jungwon !

jungwonnie was just walking home one day from school when he felt raindrops starting to fall from the sky :( and he didn’t want to get wet so he zoomed into the nearest flower shop only to find himself face to face with the cutest person he had ever seen in his life (you, who quite coincidentally goes to his school & whom he’s had the biggest crush on for a good part of high school)

his cheeks went all pink, which is saying something because his cheeks are naturally rosy, and he stammered an apology. your smile made him so flustered and he was so scared that you’d think he was weird :( and he just zoomed right back out of there.

but then !! then !! he heard a tiny voice shouting back at him, “jungwon, jungwon, wait!!” and he turned around to see you running after him, with an umbrella over your head. you handed him the umbrella, flashed a smile, and ran back into the flower shop with your hands over your head.

jungwon just stood there stunned for the longest time before he realized he was soaked in rainwater because the umbrella you had given him was held loosely by his side. he ended up running home that day with your umbrella with the biggest smile on his face and that night, as he laid in bed, he couldn’t get your smile or your kindness or the way your hand brushed his out of his mind.

ni-ki !

it was a cold and windy day when he first felt the butterflies but it was a very welcome feeling because he felt like he was going to freeze into a popsicle while waiting in line for bungeoppang.

but when he walks up to the bungeoppang stall, he’s internally freaking out because oh my gosh !! the person working (you, a high school student in need of money) is so cute !!

his throat felt all dry when he tried to ask for one bungeoppang and when he finally did, you laughed and he nearly passed out from how pretty your laugh sounded. and then your hand brushed against his when you handed him his bungeoppang, which was bundled warmly in a napkin and he only managed to splutter a little ‘thank you!’ before practically zooming away, cheeks burning.

he came back every single day after that without a fail. he eventually got to the point of holding cute little conversations with you but it took some time because he was so shy :&lt;

he always managed to slip in a little joke in your conversations just to hear you laugh and warm happiness would bubble in his chest whenever you did. and don’t tell anyone but he was so glad you never really questioned him.

of course, you just thought he really, really liked bungeoppang and don’t get him wrong, of course he loves bungeoppang (especially now because it brought him to meet you) but he likes you so much more.

[perfectsunlight]

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟖𝐤

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨

know that i loved you so bad

i let you treat me like that

i was your willing accomplice, honey

you were in the middle of talking about your day on the phone with your girlfriend. the both of you went to the same school, but of course her idol duties put her out of the classroom all the time. you were no idol, naturally leaving you and minji with a bit of estranged distance since you rarely saw her.

“oh, and then one of the fire alarms went off–” “can you just stop talking?”

minji’s sharp voice cut you off mid sentence. the suddenness of her words left you stunned, the hurt hitting you like a swift blow to the chest. the silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, as if the weight of the unspoken emotions hung in the air between you.

your mind raced, desperately trying to comprehend what had just happened. this was supposed to be your moment, a chance to share your day with her, to bridge the ever-widening gap that her job had forged between you. 

and yet, here you were, your heart sinking as her cutting words echoed in your ears.

"i've had a long day, and i just don't really feel like hearing you ramble right now." the idol said monotonously on the other line, her words landing like a cold, heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. each syllable felt like a dagger, twisting and turning in the wound that was already so tender. 

it was as if the person you once knew, the one who used to hang on your every word, had been replaced by someone distant and indifferent.

your voice caught in your throat, the hurt and confusion making it impossible to form a coherent response. you had hoped that your words, your voice, could be a lifeline to bridge the gap between your worlds, but instead, they seemed to have driven the wedge even deeper.

the words hung in the air, the silence stretching out like an eternity. what had you done wrong? was it your fault that you couldn't understand the pressures of her life, the demands of her career? a sinking feeling settled in your chest, a mix of sadness and anger, a complex emotion that was hard to untangle.

you could feel your own heart squeezing in your chest, the vulnerability of the moment leaving you raw and exposed.

the person you loved, the one who used to make your heart skip a beat, had just dismissed you with a single sentence. the sharp contrast between the past and the present was a painful reminder of how much things had changed.

"i understand that you're tired," you managed to say, your voice trembling with a mix of sadness and resignation. "i just thought maybe we could talk, even if it's just for a little while."

the line remained quiet for a moment, the silence heavy with unspoken words. you could almost picture minji on the other end, her expression impassive, her eyes perhaps staring off into the distance, disconnected from the conversation. 

it was a stark reminder that you were now a secondary character in her life, a role you had never anticipated playing.

"i don't know what to say," she finally responded, her voice lacking any warmth or emotion. "i'm just not in the mood for this right now."

those words felt like a final blow, a confirmation that the divide between you had grown too wide to bridge. the tears you had been holding back now spilled freely down your cheeks, each droplet a testament to the pain that was too deep for words.

you wanted to tell her how much you missed her, how much you longed for the connection you once shared. you wanted to ask her if there was a way to mend what was broken, to find a way back to each other. but the weight of her indifference hung heavy in the air, suffocating any words that might have brought solace.

in the end, all you could manage was a whispered, "okay." and with that, you hung up the phone, the silence on the other end echoing the emptiness you now felt inside. 

and i watched as you fled the scene

doe-eyed as you buried me

one heart broke, four hands bloody

the next few weeks were a continuation of that one evening. minji stopped calling you, she left you on read often, and occasionally she wouldn’t even read it until the next day. this was not the kim minji you fell in love with.

no, this was entirely someone different. your minji would never do this to you.

the minji you loved always asked about your day, always called even just to say goodnight. 

the minji you loved always asked about your day, always called even just to say goodnight. she was the one who made you feel like you were the most important person in her world.

but now, that minji seemed like a distant memory, a bittersweet echo of a time that was slipping further and further away. the weight of her absence bore down on you like a heavy cloud, casting a shadow over every aspect of your life. the joy you used to find in the simplest of things now felt hollow, incomplete.

you found yourself constantly checking your phone, hoping for a message, a sign that she was thinking of you. each notification that popped up only brought a pang of disappointment as it turned out to be from someone else. 

you wondered if you were being too needy, too clingy, but deep down, you couldn't help but feel that something was fundamentally wrong.

nights were the hardest. 

the absence of her goodnight messages left a void that was difficult to fill. the empty space beside you in bed seemed to grow colder each night, a physical reminder of the emotional distance that had come between you. you missed the sound of her voice, the way she used to tell you about her day, about the small victories and the challenges she faced.

you began to replay that evening in your mind, searching for clues, for any possible explanation for the sudden change in her behavior. had you said something wrong? was there something you could have done differently? the uncertainty gnawed at you, feeding into your insecurities and amplifying your pain.

those things i did

just so i could call you mine

the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

one afternoon, you found yourself waiting in line at a fansign for new jeans. you didn’t tell minji you were coming, since you thought it would be a good idea to surprise her with your presence. it had been over a month since you had seen your girlfriend, and you were over the moon to just see her face again.

especially since you had found yourself ditching your last period of class to come to this event.

the atmosphere around you buzzed with excitement, the energy of the fans filling the air. the posters, the merchandise, the anticipation—it was all so overwhelming. as you inched closer to the front of the line, your heart raced with a mixture of nervousness and eagerness.

finally, it was your turn. you stepped up to the table, and there she was, looking every bit as stunning as you remembered. her hair cascaded in waves, her eyes sparkled, and her smile was radiant, lighting up the entire room. for a moment, it felt like time stood still, and all the pain and uncertainty of the past weeks melted away in the warmth of her gaze.

minji looked up from signing the album placed in front of her, her eyes widening in genuine surprise. "you?" she exclaimed softly, a mixture of shock and something else you couldn't quite place in her voice.

"hey," you managed, your own voice a little unsteady. "surprise."

a range of emotions seemed to play across her face—surprise, confusion, and something akin to disgust. but she quickly masked them, putting on a professional smile as she continued to sign your album. the brief interaction felt surreal, like you were strangers meeting for the first time, and the dissonance was almost painful.

"thank you for coming," she said politely as she handed the album back to you. you held onto the album, your fingers trembling slightly as you searched her eyes for a hint of the minji you once knew.

before you could respond, a staff member gently ushered you along, reminding you that there were other fans waiting. 

minji didn’t bother looking back at you, not even once.

and just like that, the fansign moved on, and you were left standing there, clutching the album to your chest. the encounter left you feeling both heartened and heartbroken, a reminder that surprises weren't enough to mend what was broken.

but maybe it was your fault for not understanding? minji was an idol. she was busy with her schedules and promotions. of course she isn’t going to have time to see you. surely you should understand that, right?

however, you couldn’t understand why she acted the way she did towards you. little did you know it would only get worse.

you used me as an alibi

i crossed my heart as you crossed the line

and i defended you to all my friends

“y/n, come on. you can’t keep defending her.” sullyoon said bluntly, pointing a finger in your direction as she glared at you.

your best friend had been present to witness yet another one of you and minji’s arguments. this time, you called your girlfriend asking for a day she’s free to hang out with you, only to be met with an argument with her.

minji blamed you for being late to her photoshoot because you called her at a bad time. she also blamed you for making her stressed out with all of your constant messages.

you sighed and looked down, the weight of sullyoon's words hitting you like a ton of bricks. she wasn't wrong, and deep down, you knew it. you had been trying so hard to defend minji's actions, to justify the distance that had grown between you, but at what cost?

"i know," you replied quietly, your voice tinged with sadness and frustration. "it's just... i love her, sullyoon. i don't want to give up on us."

sullyoon's expression softened, and she stepped closer to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "i know you love her, y/n. and i'm not telling you to give up. but you deserve someone who treats you with kindness and respect, who values your time and effort."

tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, your heart aching with the truth of her words. you had been holding onto the memories of the past, the love you once shared, but the reality of the present was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

"it just hurts, you know?" you admitted, your voice quivering. "to feel like i'm not enough, like i'm the one causing her stress and frustration. she’s an idol and i feel like i should understand better."

sullyoon pulled you into a gentle hug, offering you a source of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. "you are enough, y/n. relationships are supposed to be a two-way street. it shouldn't be one-sided, and you shouldn't have to constantly defend yourself." 

as you buried your face in her shoulder, you couldn't help but feel the weight of your emotions crashing over you. the love you had for minji was still there, strong and unwavering, but it was becoming painfully clear that love alone might not be enough to mend what was broken.

“and i’m an idol, too. but i still make time to talk to you more than minji does.” she added, patting your back gently. “she’s just making excuses.”

with a heavy heart, you pulled away from sullyoon's embrace, wiping away your tears. "i need to have a serious conversation with her, don't i?"

sullyoon nodded, her gaze filled with empathy. "yes, y/n. you deserve to be heard, and you deserve honesty. anything less than that is not enough.”

and now, every time a siren sounds

i wonder if you're around

'cause you know that i'd do it all again

after two months of not seeing each other, you and minji finally had arranged a time to see each other. it was actually minji’s idea to meet up and have lunch together. 

after two months of not seeing each other, you and minji finally had arranged a time to see each other. it was actually minji’s idea to meet up and have lunch together. the anticipation and nervousness you felt were palpable as the day approached. a part of you hoped that this would mark a turning point in your relationship, a chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

as the day dawned, you found yourself getting ready with a mix of excitement and trepidation. your heart raced as you drove to the restaurant you both had agreed upon. the familiar sights of the city felt almost surreal, like you were stepping into a dream. you couldn't help but replay the upcoming meeting in your mind, wondering how it would unfold.

when you arrived at the restaurant, your heart skipped a beat as you saw minji waiting outside. she looked just as stunning as ever, a mix of nerves and excitement in her eyes. for a moment, it felt like time had stood still, and all the struggles and pain of the past weeks faded into the background. it was just the two of you, like it used to be.

"hey," you called out softly as you approached her, a tentative smile on your lips. minji's face became visible as she turned to you, a half smile tugging at her lips. "hey," she replied, her voice a mixture of nonchalant and monotone.

the awkwardness that had been present in your recent interactions seemed to intensify in that moment. as you sat down at a corner table, there was an unspoken dynamic. minji was acting like an idol, not like your girlfriend.

the conversation started off hesitantly, with small talk about each other's lives. minji talked about her busy schedule, her recent projects, and the demands of her idol career. you sat and listened attentively, unsure if you should say anything yet about a breakup.

when there was a pause in her monologue, you took a deep breath and finally spoke up, your voice soft but determined. "minji, i think we need to talk."

she looked at you, her expression not changing much, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—maybe surprise, maybe annoyance.

"what's there to talk about?" she replied, her voice tinged with a touch of irritation.

your heart ached at her dismissive response, but you pressed on, knowing that you needed to be honest. "i miss us, minji. i miss the way things used to be between us. but lately, it feels like we're living in two separate worlds. your career, your fame—it's all so overwhelming, and i feel like i'm being left behind."

minji's gaze remained fixed on you, her eyes guarded. "you knew what my life was like when we got together. this isn't something new."

"i know, and i tried to be understanding," you replied, your voice cracking with emotion. "but it's not just about your career. it's about how we've changed, how our relationship has changed. i want us to be partners, to support each other, but it feels like you're closing yourself off from me."

minji's expression hardened, her walls going up even higher. "so, what are you saying?"

your heart ached as you looked into her eyes, searching for the minji you used to know, the one who would have listened and cared deeply. 

"i'm saying that maybe we need to take a break. to figure things out, to find ourselves again. i don't want to keep feeling like i'm fighting for your attention, like i'm the one causing you stress."

the silence that followed felt suffocating, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air between you. minji's lips tightened, and you could see a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. and then, finally, she spoke, her voice laced with anger.

"you're giving up on us just like that?" her tone was sharp, accusatory. "it's not about giving up," you said softly, your voice trembling. "it's about recognizing that we both need to be happy, that we both need space to grow."

minji pushed her chair back abruptly, her face contorted with frustration. "i can't believe you're doing this. after everything."

you reached out for her, your heart aching at her reaction. "minji, please understand. this is tearing us apart. maybe some time apart can help us find our way back to each other."

the restaurant seemed to fade into the background as minji's words pierced through you like a knife. her anger was palpable, her frustration a tangible force. you watched as she stood there, her eyes blazing with hurt and anger, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.

"i can’t believe i took time out of my busy schedule to come on a date with you for the first time in months and all you’re doing is this?" her voice trembled with a mix of emotions, and you could see tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

you swallowed hard, your own heart breaking at the pain in her voice. "minji, i didn't want it to be like this. i thought a break might give us a chance to work through things, to find a way back to each other."

she shook her head, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "you think this is what i want? you think i'm happy with the way things have been?"

the raw emotion in her voice cut through you, a stark reminder that this wasn't easy for her either. but her anger was so intense, so overwhelming, that it felt like there was no room for understanding or compromise.

"i don't think you're happy either," you said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. "i just thought maybe this break could give us a chance to heal."

minji's gaze bore into yours, her eyes blazing with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "you think i need healing? you think i need you to tell me what's wrong with my life?"

the accusation in her words stung, and you felt a mixture of guilt and frustration swirling within you. "no, that's not what i meant."

"of course it's not what you meant," she spat back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "you always know what's best, don't you?"

you closed your eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy burden. it wasn't supposed to end like this, with anger and accusations. 

but the reality of your relationship had become so tangled, so complex, that finding a way forward felt almost impossible.

“i'm not saying i know what's best," you said, your voice cracking with the effort to hold back tears. "i just thought maybe a break could help us both find some clarity."

she turned away from you, her fists balled as if trying to hold back the flood of emotions and her jaw clenched. "i can't do this right now. i can't talk about this."

you watched as she walked away, her steps hurried and determined. the restaurant felt cold and desolate, the aftermath of the conversation leaving you feeling hollow and defeated. 

it was supposed to be a chance to reconnect, to find a way back to each other, but instead, it had only driven a deeper wedge between you.

all the things i did

just so i could call you mine

the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

you didn’t really know what to call your relationship with minji after that. even though you were the one who tried to break up with her, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about it.

maybe you were wrong all along? what if it wasn’t minji’s fault, but rather your own? she was still trying, right?

in the days that followed your encounter at the restaurant, you found yourself replaying the conversation over and over in your mind. doubt gnawed at you, and you began to question whether your decision to suggest a break was the right one. 

after all, minji had come to meet you, she had taken time out of her busy schedule, and you had essentially rejected her.

seeing her upset and angry had left a pit in your stomach, a nagging feeling that perhaps you hadn't fully considered the consequences of your actions. the guilt weighed heavily on you, a constant reminder that relationships were complex and messy, and your attempt to address the issues between you had only seemed to exacerbate them.

as the days turned into weeks, you found yourself missing minji more than ever. the silence between you was deafening, and the space that had grown between you felt like an insurmountable chasm. you wondered if you had pushed her away for good, if your efforts to address the issues had only served to drive her further away.

you couldn't help but notice how minji continued to appear in the media, performing with her group, smiling for the cameras, all the while masking the turmoil that had once been so evident between you. it was as if she had moved on effortlessly, while you were left grappling with the remnants of a relationship that felt more shattered than ever.

the clock on your bedroom wall glared at you with the numbers 9:55 pm. minji was still awake, she always was at this time. you memorized her practice schedule during the talking stage with her.

it was a bit ironic that you remembered her daily schedule but you couldn’t seem to remember to eat or sleep.

the past few weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions, and the attempt to repair your relationship with minji had left you emotionally drained. you were trying to rebuild what was broken, and it was proving to be both challenging and rewarding.

but it wasn't easy. the memories of your arguments and the pain you both felt still lingered, and they often invaded your thoughts, especially during these quiet moments when the world seemed to slow down. the disparity between minji's public persona and the reality you both faced weighed heavily on your heart.

as you sat there, staring at the clock, a surge of emotions swept over you. you missed her more than words could express, and you longed for the love you once felt from the girl. 

yet, there was a lingering fear that the cracks in your relationship might be too deep to mend completely. the doubt, the insecurity, and the uncertainty gnawed at you, reminding you that love alone might not be enough to heal the wounds that had formed.

you picked up your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen. maybe you should send her a message, just to let her know that you were thinking of her. 

it's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do

'cause i was going down, but i was doing it with you

your fingers typed and erased over and over again, the indecision evident in your actions. the glow of your phone's screen illuminated the dim room, casting a faint light on your contemplative expression. the cursor blinked in the text box as you struggled to find the right words.

"i miss you,” you typed and then hesitated, your thumb hovering over the send button. it was a simple message, but it held so much weight. would it be welcomed, or would it come across as too needy? you deleted the message and started again.

“how was your day?” you tried, hoping for a more casual approach. but as soon as the words appeared on the screen, they felt inadequate, empty even. minji deserved more than a simple inquiry about her day.

with a frustrated sigh, you locked your phone and placed it on the table. you leaned back in your chair, your thoughts a swirl of emotions. the turmoil within you mirrored the unease you felt about your relationship. it was as if your actions on your phone screen were a microcosm of the larger struggle you were facing.

part of you wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed, to show minji that you were still here, still committed to trying. 

but the other part of you was afraid—afraid of rejection, afraid of making things worse, afraid of being a burden to her busy life.

yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made

but i say that i hate you with a smile on my face

as the minutes turned into hours, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, a battle raging within you. the screen of your phone remained dark, untouched, a silent testament to your internal struggle. the clock ticked on, and the night grew deeper, but your heart felt heavy with the weight of indecision.

finally, you gave a resigned sigh, realizing that you couldn't keep grappling with this forever. with a determined exhale, you unlocked your phone once more. your fingers tapped out a message, slower this time, each word chosen carefully.

"hi minji, i've been thinking about us. i miss what we had, and i'm willing to work on things if you are. i don't want to push you, but i just wanted you to know that i'm here, whenever you're ready to talk."

you read and reread the message, the words holding your hopes and vulnerabilities. with a trembling hand, you pressed the send button, watching as the message flew off into the digital void. the anxiety settled in once again, the seconds stretching out.

the room was silent, save for the soft hum of the clock on the wall. the minutes passed, and you felt a mix of anticipation and dread. 

oh, look what we became

somewhere between now and the moment you had sent the text, you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. you picked up your phone again, only to be met with a blank screen of no notifications. 

all the things i did

just so i could call you mine

when you scrolled back to the conversation, you noticed your message didn’t say it had been delivered. confused, you decided to double check her schedule by looking online. was she flying somewhere right now?

as you searched for any information about minji's schedule, you felt a growing sense of unease. it wasn't like her not to respond, even if she was busy. and the fact that your message hadn't even been delivered left you feeling a mix of frustration and concern.

you clicked on various fan sites and social media platforms, hoping to find a clue about her whereabouts. but your search yielded no answers—no mentions of her current activities, no updates on her schedule.

the clock on your wall ticked away, and you found yourself trapped in a cycle of uncertainty. the more you searched, the more your anxiety grew. what if something had happened? what if she was in trouble or facing an emergency?

all the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

finally, after what felt like an eternity of scrolling, you stumbled upon a tweet from a fan account. it mentioned that minji's group finally had a break in their schedules for the first time in months.

your heart sank as you read those words. minji was still here in seoul. 

but if she was still here in the city, why wasn’t your message going through?

your favorite crime

moving to her contact once again, you about calling her. you missed her, you loved her, and you wanted to let her know that you were sorry for not understanding her.

even though none of it was your fault in the first place. 

your favorite crime

your thumb pressed on the call button and you brought the device to your ear. the sound of your heart pounded in your head and your hands shook.

would she be mad? would she be happy to hear from you? or maybe she would feel just as sorry as you were feeling right now? 

surely she can’t miss you less than you miss her, right?

'cause baby, you were mine

the number you have dialed is not in service at this time…

a/n: this was literally so rushed im sorry LMAOOO

[agi-ppangx]

💭let me help you

pairing: bang chan x gn!reader

word count: 806

tags: non!idol au, gn!reader, angst, fluff, pre established relationship

warnings: hospital, broken leg, a bit of crying

author's note: hiii, i hope yall are doing fine!! wrote this pretty quickly and its totally not proofread, so please dont mind any typos and mistakes </3 feedback and reblogs highly appreciated 🫶🏽

you tried calling your boyfriend several times now and finally, after what feels like forever, you heard his voice. "channie! hi, um… look, i'm really sorry, but we have to cancel our date tonight…" you said with a pounding heart. you felt guilty, knowing that today was one of rare times when chan could wrap up his work earlier and spend some time with you. "everything alright? you sound worried" chan asked, concerned about your well-being. you started to panic a bit, not wanting him to worry about your problem. "yeah, it's nothing, i swear it's just-" "y/n, what's going on?" he interrupted you, clearly lost in your rambling. you sighed and mumbled "i'm at the hospital right now. but it's fine! really, i'm fine, just won't be able to go to the movies later". chan didn't respond for a while, but you heard rustling and the door closing. "which hospital?" he then asked, his voice shaking. you knew it was useless to argue with him and you told him the address. "i'll be there in 20, wait for me, okay?" chan stated and you hummed, ending the call.

you and chan have been dating for a little over 2 months and throughout this time you weren't able to go on many dates, since chan's job was quite time consuming and your schedules collided every time you wanted to go out together. and today was one of the rare times when you could meet up. you two planned everything a week in advance, chose a movie you were going to watch and the restaurant you were supposed to eat dinner after it. but you had so much to do today before the date and in a rush your feet slipped on the stairs, causing you to fall down and break a leg. you were in a hospital for a while now, nervously waiting for your doctor to carry out essential tests and put a plaster on your leg. it felt like hours and you didn't know how long it would all take.

chan arrived pretty quickly, bursting into the emergency room and looking nervously around it. when his eyes finally met yours, he sprinted to your side and took a better look. "what happened?" he asked, his voice quiet and unstable. "i… fell down the stairs this morning" you murmured, ashamed that a grown up person could be that clumsy. "i'm really sorry channie, i wanted to run errands before our date and i just…" you sighed, pointing to your leg resignedly. you mumbled a quiet "i'm sorry" once again and looked down to hide the tears that gathered in your eyes. after a while, chan finally spoke. "y/n, you don't have to be sorry, you did nothing wrong. i was just really worried about you and for the whole drive here i was praying for you to be fine" he said, placing his hand on your cheek and wiping the tears from your face. "does it hurt?" he then asked softly, although he knew the answer. "it does, so bad, and i don't know how long i have to wait for the doctor" you whispered, sounding defeated, and more tears ran down your face. he kissed your forehead and then got up. you didn't know where he was going, but soon you saw him talking to the nurses and to your doctor. you didn't hear the conversation, but you saw that chan was impatient, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he was speaking. he returned to you after a while with a smile and a soft "they'll take care of you now". then everything happened really fast, the nurse taking you to examine you and within an hour you were ready to leave with a plaster on your leg.

chan offered to give you a ride, helping you to get to the car. "you'll spend a few days at my place, okay? i'll take care of you" he stated and you looked at him. "chan, you don't have to, i'll be fi-" you started but he interrupted you, "baby, you know your place is too cramped and complicated for you to get around with crutches. please, let me help you". you sat in silence for a while when you suddenly asked "baby?". it took you off guard, being in a fresh relationship you two didn't really use affectionate names yet, but you liked it a lot. you saw chan's face become red like a tomato and you giggled to yourself. "fine, let's go to your place, baby," you grinned. chan smiled to himself and then there was a pleasant silence between you. you wondered how you got so lucky to have chan in your life - someone who treated you with care and love and was there for you for good and for bad.

[hopelessromantic5]

Because that last one was so short, here’s a merthur clip with a hopeful ending for Morgana.

Morgana thinks she’s captured Merlin, when really he’s allowed himself to be captured so maybe Arthur would be smart enough to just stay away this time.

He was wrong. As is usually the case with Arthur.

Arthur knew he’d found the right place when he heard Merlin’s anguish audibly ground out of him, followed by Morgana’s cackle.

The shack was only a half days walk from Camelot.

How could she have thought Arthur would not find them?

Maybe that was the point.

“I don’t understand it, Merlin. You’re nothing but Arthur’s servant, yet time and again you’ve proven yourself willing to lay down your life for him. Why?” Arthur was inching closer to the broken window, not making a single sound. Not a rustling leaf or a toe scuff in the dirt.

He carefully peered around the window pane, only to be met with the most horrifying sight he’d witnessed in years. Merlin, hands chained to the roof, dangling there like a fish, was bruised and bloodied. But he was still Merlin.

Arthur almost vomited on the spot from relief at finding him alive, or from pure disgust and rage at the state he was in.

Arthur would never let that beautiful bumbling fool out of his sight again.

Suddenly Merlin jerked his head up, where it had been hanging low, eyes on the ground.

He spat, what looked like a mouthful of blood, in the direction of the Morgana, who was circling his body like a vulture waiting for its next meal to die.

“I preferred the beating to your incessant rambling.” He groaned out.

Arthur had never heard Merlin speak like this to anyone before.

The King Regent’s manservant was like the moon. And there was always a side that Arthur couldn’t fully see, he couldn’t get it into the light just right, couldn’t put his finger on it.

Perhaps this version of Merlin, is connected to that side of him.

The hair on the back of Arthur’s neck stood on its end.

Another cackle followed his statement.

“I rather think I’ve hit a nerve, dear Merlin. Don’t want me acknowledging your beloved Prince Arthur? I wonder why?”

She was playing mind games with Merlin, she’d done similar to Arthur when they were teenagers, he swore, at one point, that she could read minds.

Fortunately, Merlin is much wiser than Arthur gives him credit for. He doesn’t rise to the bait.

He chuckles low and deep, Arthur would be a bit scared if he didn’t know that a little bunny of a person lived in that same skin, in that same mind.

“That’s King Arthur, to you. Or haven’t you heard? Your invitation to the coronation must’ve gotten lost on its way.” He clicked his tongue, in that annoying, pestering way. “A shame really, it’s supposed to be the celebration of the century.”

Arthur almost wanted to laugh.

“My brother will get what’s coming to him. I’d bet my hands that he’s on his way here, now.” She smiled that sickly sweet thing with all her rotting teeth. “Stumbling around in the woods, calling out your name, and all he will find is empty air. And this quaint little shack.”

“If you think the son of Uther Pendragon is going to abandon his castle to come searching for someone like me, you’re sorely mistaken. As you said yourself, high priestess, I am nothing but his servant. Perhaps you should’ve strategized a bit wiser.”

“Your falsehoods cannot alter what I have seen with my own eyes. Arthur has never deigned to care about anyone, noble or peasant, the way he seems to care about you.” As Morgana spoke, she dragged the tip of a sharp dagger across his blood-muddied flesh. Shredding his tunic down the middle as she trailed its edge across the expanse of his chest.

“That’s not true, Morgana. He cared about you.”

Arthur nearly flinched, as he expected Merlin to get a nasty response. But it was almost as if something flickered. She froze, momentarily, staring Merlin directly into his eyes, yet seeing something else entirely.

As quickly as a little flame of home lit on his heart, it was snuffed out.

“Arthur is no different to his father, he cares only for himself!”

“Well now you’re just contradicting yourself, my lady.” Even from the distance, Arthur saw the look appear upon Merlin’s face. He was puzzled, eyes narrowed and calculating as he tried to figure out the problem. Maybe Merlin sensed exactly what Arthur had always felt upon meeting his sister in the last year, that she was not his sister. Not entirely.

“Morgana would know better than that. Madness or not. You are not Morgana are you?” Merlin peered at her, if you looked close enough, you’d see the golden burning in them. But Arthur decided that it was a trick of the light, as he had every other instance accidentally witnessing Merlin’s magic. He took a big deep breath and wordlessly thanked the gods it was him that saw, and no one else.

“You-“ Morgana was startled, stumbled back and fell on nothing but air.

“Yes. And you are a nothing but an empty shell that’s been filled with your sister’s hate.” The chains holding Merlin to the ceiling fell away, he fell to his knees, legs too weak to hold him. Arthur wanted to run in and help him but he wanted to see what Merlin was planning.

“She’s locked your humanity away in the dark. Hidden from you.” He shook his head. “I am sorry I did not see it sooner. I might’ve saved us both heartache.” Slowly, he reached out and gently took her hand. To Arthur’s surprise, she did not pull away.

“Will you allow me to help you?”

The air was thick for three heartbeats before she nodded, Arthur could tell that something, in that moment, was purely Morgana. The Morgana he had known since he was eleven years old. It had emerged from its hiding place long enough to go willingly. Perhaps Merlin had found a weak link in the chain and pecked at it, metaphorically speaking, until it broke through.

“This may…I am not sure it will be painless. But you will be you, again.” With a deep breath, eyes constantly glowing were hidden as he closed them. Arthur held his breath; waiting, hoping.

[sugurumybeloved]

⤷ I can be better.

masterlist! | previous post!

synopsis: coming to Yuji's with a broken heart, he definitely changes your mind on dating again.

pairings: yuji itadori x reader ! :D

warnings: um not that I know of 🐥.

Tears stream down your face as you run through the neighborhood. Some  drivers honk at you rudely and you trip a couple times but you made it to his house. Your balled up fist knocked harshly at the door as you waited for Yuji to answer.

When the door opened, your eyes fixated on him. His hair was a messy mop of pink strands. He looked down at you with heavy eyelids and a confused smile.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” He asked confused, leaning on the door.

“Just open the door, please.”

Yuji wasn’t good with reading cues, or understanding cues. Being the sunshine person he is, he accepted, letting you in.

“So, uhm, what’s wrong?”

A low, shaky breath draws from your lips as you blink back more tears. Yuji hesitates to ask again, stepping back from you.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

His shoulders started to slouch as he looked for ways to help you. You did just walk in his house without saying what’s wrong anyway.

“Y/N, come.” He calls you over gently. You walk over to him, where he pats the seat of the couch next to him. You sit, leaning on the back of it. He noticed how your normal bubbly demeanor was gone and you seemed distressed. His lanky fingers outstretched to your hand, covering it.

“If you’re worried to tell me, it’s fine. But I’d like to know before you leave, please?”

You feel a burning sensation in your eyes as you blink fast again. You hate when people can see you like this, but what’s the point of coming over and not talking?

The pink haired boy waits patiently as you sit there, watching you.

“So, uhm, remember when we went out with (boyfriends name)?”

He nods, with a smile on his face. “Yeah! The guy who paid for all our stuff from the mall, right?” 

“Yeah, he-“  “And I remember that photo he showed us of you!” He rambled on, almost like he couldn’t stop. “It was so adorable-“

“He cheated on me.”

Yuji was stuck between silence and words, his expression too difficult to read. He wanted to say something so bad, but he was too shocked. Soon, he felt Sukuna switch in, those familiar black lines fading in his face. 

“He did what?”  Sukuna’s menacing voice sent shivers down your spine. Him and Yuji were very distinctive now.

“Yeah, and he told me he didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean it? Obviously he did. His loyalty is as shallow as his morals.”

 You giggle a bit, your hand covering your mouth.

“That wasn’t supposed to be funny, brat.”

“I thought it was!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, looking down at his nails. He looks back at you with a grin.

“Are you going to be like those other amusing humans and get revenge?”

“No, I think I’ll just be on my own for a while.”

Something sparks in Yuji, as there’s an abrupt switch. He pants, wiping his forehead. 

“You said you’ll be single for a while?”

“Yeah, why?”

You see him suddenly smile, him scooting closer to you.

“How about you give me a try?”

Your eyes widen and you deeply blush. His eyes search yours again, waiting patiently for your response.

“Is that a yes?” He says, his thoughts almost contradicting him. Even with his smile, he hopes that you say yes.

“Well, I’m not saying no, but don’t you think it’s too soon-“

Yuji’s rosy pink lips smash onto yours, cutting you off. The kiss feels so rushed, but so right. There’s a sense of euphoria in the air as you return his kiss. His fingers find their way in the nape of your neck, traveling to your hair. Your hands cup his face, the pad of your thumbs on his plump cheeks. After about a minute or two, you both part away, breaking for air. Your lips tingle, still feeling the remnants of his pair. As you look at him, his signature smile returns, shyly scratching his forehead. 

“Can we kiss again?”

~

[BONUS!]

Sukuna sits with his leg crossed in his chair, listening to the scene unfold from Yuji’s head.

“Ah, two brats falling in love.”

dt list: @1-800reki @ashlovelys @crowatemitsuri @psuedosugu @starykari @pinkbowwhitebow @kitkat-moon @ilovelinkk @stillnotherapy @suguvanilla @istanstraykidss @zellons @misthashiragf @mjustag1rl @stantengenandhisflashywives :3

works by sugurumybeloved©.

[maxwapan]

☆彡The sky longs to see the sun go down

Title from Fly by Bloodwitch

Summary: It’s a hot day today, but not hot enough to get a handjob from a certain best friend!

Notes: Is a crack fic supposed to be written this seriously. Forgive for some of the rambling and rushed writing it’s 4AM and I am running on sparkling water and belvita snacks. This was just for funsies ▼・ᴥ・▼

Cw: Male/Male, reader has cock and balls, some noncon mention, humiliation mention, sexuality denial, misoginy in one sentence, mentions of Ashley and Ada, OOC cause Leon’s a perv, mentions of fisting? Lol

Wc: 1,872

You tug at the hem of your sweater self-consciously, the combination of sweat and oil making you shudder. It’s gross; makes you feel like you spent hours stuck in a locked car without the windows down or proper air conditioning. Kind of like a dog or a baby, except it must be worse for them. It’s not like you’re actually trapped somewhere after all— not permanently. It’s just that your room’s AC is broken, and you lack the balls to call up a repairman due to fear of judgement.

What? It’s a scary thing. What if with one good look they take off running for the hills? It’s a possibility. One in a million, but still a possibility. Still, it’s so damn hot in here that you consider going through with it. Anything is better than sitting in your personal hell— even calling someone through the phone. Maybe if you still lived with your dad, he could have helped. Mom would surely say “do it yourself” and leave you hanging. It’s not like she knows anything about that stuff anyways, she’s a woman.

Sitting up with a groan, you pass a hand over the bed sheets you were just laying on, cringing when moisture collects on your skin. It’s even worse when you look back and see the massive patch of sweat in the shape of your body on the bed. It’s like a crime scene. A nasty, sweaty crime scene. Enough is enough. You really can’t take much more of this. You feel like you’re dying, and no it’s not an exaggeration. This is why you prefer winter over summer. Sure, it gets cold, but honestly you’d rather freeze than melt into a puddle of goo.

First your sweater goes, then your shirt, then your pants, then your socks and shoes. You strip it all until you’re standing completely naked in the middle of your room. It’s not like your roommate is here. Well, he is, but he’s showering. Asshole got to the bathroom first before you could. The water has been running for at least thirty minutes now, and it bothers you more than you’d like to admit. Whatever though, right? Leon is Leon. He’s a greedy bastard, no matter how much he denies it. It’s like, just because you’re friends doesn’t mean you get to be pushed around and shit.

Just ‘cause it gets your heart fluttering and your blood flowing to places that are better left unnamed doesn’t mean you like it. (read: yes it does).

Somehow, it’s only getting hotter in here now. Getting somewhat desperate, you walk over to open the window beside your bed with a huff, having to crawl over the mattress to do so— which leaves you in a rather suggestive position. One that, due to your focus on the heat, catches Leon’s attention as soon as he walks in. Maybe you’d have focused more on the sound of the shower turning off if you weren’t so damn busy. Anyways, Leon isn’t so dignified either. He wears nothing but a thin towel around his waist, skin glistening with water droplets and moisturizing lotion. It’s not a gay thing, he promises that. Can’t men look good too?

The first thing his eyes land on is the way your ass juts out, back slightly curved as you used whatever strength you could from your upper body to slide the window up. Although he’s never particularly been interested in men, you’re his best friend. That’s different. He’s been friends with you since like… childhood. That’s enough time to make him forget about the junk between your legs. Though, it’s pretty hard to do that now when he’s staring straight at it. At least your cock is smaller than his. He’s just been standing there staring like a weirdo with nothing better to do. He gets an idea when his cock starts to kick, blood rushing to the thick length, making it stand tall at attention. He’s always wanted to try anal.

You finally get that window open after some grunting and huffing, hoping the small draft of fresh air would be enough to cool you down. With a sigh of relief, you turn only to come face-to-face with your best friend. Leon watches with a subtle smirk as you yelp and scramble to shield your bare body with the blanket left draped over the bed. It’s almost pitiful. And somewhat offensive? You’ve been friends for years, but you can’t even stand being naked around him? Some friend you are.

He snatches the blanket away with a quick hand, the movement making the towel around his waist fall and bunch around his legs. Now they’re both naked. “What?” He huffs, “Never seen a guy’s junk before?”

He knows that’s not true. You know that too. You’ve seen a guy’s junk before. Just not your best friend’s. Confused and embarrassed, you still try to cover yourself up with your hands, cupping them over your crotch. “What’s wrong with you?” You glare, shooting Leon a scowl. “You couldn’t have knocked or something?” You try not to stare, you really try. But it’s staring right at you. His dick. Uncircumcised and honestly a decent length. It’s not like it’s monstrously big or something, that’s ridiculous. Not that you’d mind if it was. Death by huge cock would be a nice way to go.

Leon rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s acting so damn nonchalant, as if his dick isn’t twitching against his tummy, begging for attention. “Really? I could have sworn this was my place too.” He doesn’t hide his staring, not at all. You can see as clear as day that his eyes are looking directly at your crotch, examining closely. It’s a stare that could almost come across as judgmental, and that makes your cheeks heat up with humiliation. Sheepishly, you shut your thighs, dipping your chin so you could peer up at Leon through your lashes.

“Yeah, well…” You trail off, unsure of what to say at this point.

“You know,” Leon butts in before you could even finish your train of thought, “you have a nice cock.”

“Huh?” You stammer, mouth dumbly shaping an ‘O’ out of shock. Did he really just say that? Were your ears deceiving you? Well, obviously not, since he repeats himself without a care in the world.

“I said you have a really nice cock.” Leon nods, as if he were some sort of penis reader or something. It kind of reminds you of those competitions they would hold at fairs. What pig is bigger? Well, in this case, which cock is nicer? Now vote! Honestly, it brings you an odd sense of warmth knowing your best friend would vote for you in that case. Enough about cock comparison and voting though, you’re snapped out of your thoughts when you feel warm hands grab onto each of your thighs. What the fuck is he doing now? You don’t think your best friend would touch you without your explicit approval (not that you’d mind), but he’s getting oddly touchy.

“You know,” Leon clears his throat awkwardly, struggling with social ineptitude just as much as you were. “I hear guys touch their friends sometimes… just for fun…” As he speaks, his hands gently push yours away from your crotch, the thick pad of his thumb running a slow line towards your penis. Immediately, your heart jumps so high you swear you feel it in your throat. You wouldn’t say no to this. Not really. It’s a tricky situation, but who wouldn’t want their dick rubbed by their bestie? Especially one known for his good-looks. A few seconds of thumbing at the base, and he finally wraps a hand around your length, squeezing lightly.

“Woah!” You gasp, breathing coming out hitched and ragged. It feels good, so good. The combination of adrenaline and pleasure might be too much. Honestly, you’re way more worried about what you’re saying. What kind of imbecile says ‘woah!’ while getting a handjob by their best friend? You, that’s who. Judging by the slightly amused look on Leon’s face, he thinks you’re an idiot. But you’re the idiot he’s jacking off, so who’s really the embarrassing one here? All you can hear is the slow schlick schlick schlick of his fist pumping your meat, the noise wet and sticky due to the amount of precum you had produced in a short amount of time.

Yeah, you’re not lasting at all. Who fucking cares? You’re getting your dick beat! By your best friend!

You groan into the palm of your hand, pathetic moans and whimpers escaping you within every second. Man, you’d be a good pornstar. Maybe you should consider it; college debt would be paid off much easier. Hips tilting forward for more, you watch intently, taking in every detail. Leon’s no different, he’s just as enthralled. Dare he say he’s finally getting what he’d dreamed of. Assuming dreaming about jacking your friend was normal. Maybe he’d try sticking this same hand up your ass later. He dreamt about that too at some point. Maybe he just likes you or something. That thought is weirder to him than all the other ones though.

His arm is starting to get tired, but he doesn’t slow down or anything, he just picks up pace. Fisting your cock is just as straining as when he lifts weights at the gym, and he considers doing this instead of working out every weekend. Easier to do and cheaper. Sure, he’s got all the money he could possibly need, but $30 for a gym membership that he has to pay for monthly is too much, even for him. He tightens his grip a little, squeezing rhythmically once he feels your cock starting to twitch and jump, signaling oncoming orgasm.

“Ah! Fuck! There… there!” You practically whine, back arching and hips bucking weakly, the muscles in your belly tightening and relaxing as wave after wave of pure, unbridled ecstasy washed over you. Who knew a handjob could feel this good? From someone else, that is. The ones you give yourself don’t match up. Leon obliges, continuing with his set pace and watching as thick spurts of cum splashed onto his hand, the enthusiastic bursts soon turning into lazy, creamy drools down the slit of your cock. He thought it’d be kind of gross to get someone else’s cum on him like this, but seeing how dazed and disoriented you looked made him smile, and that’s what counts. It’s not all that bad.

Curious, he brought his cum-coated hand up to his face, tongue lolling out to lap up one swipe of the mess. It smells musky, and tastes… peculiar. Not bad, so that means your diet is good at least. Just kind of salty and sticky, if sticky were a taste. There’s no other way to describe it really. He had remembered the taste of Ada’s cum and Ashley’s from when he had eaten them out before when they were dating (separately), but theirs also had variety. Anyways, instead of thinking like some cum connoisseur, he waits for you to finish panting and whimpering like some overheated dog before speaking.

“So, my turn?”

[milfp1lled]

Hi! Can you do Shiv Roy x fem!reader angst? Leaving it up to you what about

“I always want you when I’m finally fine”

pairing: Shiv Roy x fem!reader

summary: After you confessed that you loved her, Shiv had all but told you not to call her…ever. So you’re thrown off guard when you get a phone call from her at 3 am.

warnings: 18+ sexual themes,angst, toxic relationships, strong language, alcohol use

word count: 5574

notes: obviously this fic is inspired by the song, listened to an entire mitski playlist as I wrote this so do with that info what you will haha.

You were always a worrier.

Constantly fearing and expecting the worst-case scenario, a request for a simple conversation suddenly had you feeling like you were about to get horrific news and a late-night phone call usually had you spiraling.

So that’s why you’re surprised at yourself when your phone starts ringing at God knows what time, and you immediately stretch your arm out with a groan to quickly press decline. Despite not knowing whom the call was coming from, you roll over onto your side with a silent promise to chase it up in the morning.

You’d been practicing doing that recently: ‘protecting your peace’, is what the overly chipper, new-age psychologist whom you’d recently started paying thousands to “fix” you called it.

Then the vibrating starts up again…you’re not happy.

Muttering expletives under your breath you snatch the phone from your bed stand before raising it up to your ear.

You’d been tossing and turning all night and had just managed to fall asleep but of course, someone had to wake you the moment you had dozed off. You say a silent prayer at the fact that you had tomorrow off from work or else you’d be downing cups of coffee all day to have some kind of semblance to a functioning person.

"Uh-huh?" You hum, eyes half-lidded as you already start to nod off again.

"...hey, uh...I'm outside, can let me into your building?"

The voice is slurred and rambling, but you recognise it all the same, suddenly wide awake as you scramble to your feet, phone pulled away from your ear in disbelief to squint at the name on the display:

'Shiv🥕🔝'

Huh.

"What? Siobhan...It’s 3am"

Not to mention you didn't want to see her.

 …You shouldn’t want to see her was probably closer to describing it.

You peer down from one of your windows and sure enough, she is standing there, arms folded across her chest and that bored look on her face, breath catching in your throat at the mere sight of her. You look for any sign of another party near her, eyebrows furrowing at the fact there is no car black car parked outside one of the neighbouring houses.

Where was the car that had dropped her off?

This was anything but the first time you'd been summoned for a classic Shiv Roy booty call. But usually, it came in the form of a "come over?” or an “I miss you” text when you think she was feeling extra mean. You'd drop everything like the pathetically devoted follower you were, opting instead to spend the rest of the night swallowing the feeling of self-loathing as the two of you would fuck each other into oblivion.

You knew the rules: It was always at some 5-star hotel; never at yours or any of her many homes- that was too personal. You were never supposed to linger after. Shiv Roy was straight to the point, and concise, she didn't do pillow talk.

One time she’d seemed particularly stressed out and you'd tried to ask her if she was okay and in turn, were promptly put in your place and shown the door. You didn’t have access to or get to see that part of Shiv (if she even still existed) anymore.

Safe to say you didn’t bother trying to fill the cold, endless silence after that.

To her credit, she would always call you a taxi, or get one of her drivers to drop you off the moment you were done, and you'd sit silently crying in the car on the way home, clasping the broken pieces of your heart in your hands, trying to hold yourself together until Shiv decided she needed you again.

Waiting for her to call, to touch you and make you whole. To make you mean something.

So naturally, of course, you were shocked to see her outside of where you lived again.

You think back to the only other occasion she’d been at your apartment, your birthday a year ago. She’d come to collect you for one of your “meetings” and had surprised you by coming equipped with your favourite vanilla bean cake from Magnolia Bakery. She seemed unusually light…happy (and definitely a little bit drunk) and even sang you an out-of-tune rendition of happy birthday that made your cheeks hurt from smiling. You’d put your favourite record on and asked her to dance with you in your kitchen and she’d rolled her eyes claiming she didn’t listen to music, you’d laughed at how ridiculous that sounded (she was always such a fucking cliché), but she’d danced with you anyway.

She’d touched you and had seen you, really seen you…but the moment was fleeting, the same cold no nonsense Shiv the moment you left for the hotel. Sometimes you think you’d imagined that day.

You’re surprised she even still remembers your address now.

“Please?” she sighs out softly

You could never say no to her.

Well-trained, you obey, buzzing her in with a sigh of resignation.                                                                    What were you doing?

Moments later, Shiv twirls out of your lift into your condo with a giggle and you realised dreadingly that she's wasted. Not even the standard Shiv level of buzzed that you’d seen her at.

She looked frazzled and her hair was slightly askew, and she had one of those almost fake-looking wide smiles on her face.

“Hey Honey”

Were you having a fever dream? Maybe you’d lost it.

"These are killing me!” She groans taking off her heels and tossing them onto the floor of your foyer behind her-making herself right at home besides the fact this was her second time even being in your loft.

Actually Maybe she’d lost it.

You keep your mouth closed, not quite of what to say.

"I was at Ken’s birthday...and it was...a shit show." She explains stumbling into your apartment.

"But, I was dancing you know..." she uncharacteristically giggles, leaning in to whisper to you conspiratorially, despite there only being two of you in the entire loft.

You could smell the tequila on her breath.

You ignore her but she doesn’t seems to notice,

"In the middle of the dancefloor too”.

Shiv ,unprompted, then proceeds to give you a demonstration, not receptive to the fact that there was no music playing. You have to turn away, unable to stop yourself from cracking a small chuckle at her performance. Drunk or not, you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

"See? Just like how we used to back in our London days...Do you remember the raves and house parties we used to go to?” she exclaims unusually animated. You weren’t us yes to hearing her speak without that usual apathetic Shiv drawl.

You turn to pour yourself a glass of water, anything to keep your hands busy, not even attempting to pick up the bone she just so eagerly threw your way.

Making a forbidden reference to your past and she actually seemed to look back on it fondly? A couple of months ago, before that night, you probably would’ve chased after said bone that’s been thrown your way, practically fawning at her feet.

Was this a trap?

This inkling doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering in your chest though.

"Why are you here Shiv?" You question after a while, eyes narrowing, already knowing you were wasting your time trying to have an effective conversation with someone this drunk.

The heiress smiles sadly before throwing her hands in the air blasély,

"You called me a vampire...they can't be out in the day...can they?"

You try your best not to wince at her words and immediately fail.

"...I went to Kenfest…and not that I was looking or anything, there were so many people…but I noticed you weren't there…”

Sure, you’d received an invite to Kendall’s birthday party. But that wasn’t really your scene anymore.

"I know you Naomi are friends...I thought you’d be there but…but you didn’t go. Why not?” she rambles manically,

“I don’t care or anything, but… Kendall put you on the list s-”

"Is that why you came here at 3am? To lecture me for skipping out on "Kenapalooza?" you interrupt massaging your temples,

She at least has the decency to pretend to look embarrassed.

"I just…I miss you" she stutters, nonchalant as though this was just a standard afternoon, and you were two busy friends who’d just happened to bump into each other.

Missed you.

That dreaded feeling of realisation slowly creeps through your body.

So that’s why she was here.

What this was really about.

Fucking.

Everything was always about fucking with Shiv. Getting fucked over by her family or some other corporate big wig. Fucking you both physically or metaphorically. Fucking with you.

You feel yourself starting to get angry.

“Yeah? I’m not in the mood to be in the same room as you, let alone a quickie so your luck’s all out.”

Shiv balks at the accusation,                                                                                                   “What? Fuck you Y/n, I’m being serious…I mean it.”

You let a laugh in disbelief,

“Oh, you mean it do you Shiv? Fuck me? Fuck you.”

"We don't have that or any kind of relationship with each other anymore...you made that very clear... "

Her jaw sets and she looks away from you, fiery stare instead directed at the pillar in the middle of your living room. You think it had the potential to snap it in half

"Oh, get off your moral high horse-you gave just as good as you got that night... " she laughs, tilting her head to the side even though none of this was really that funny.

Your blood runs cold.

You'd bared your soul to her that night. You told her you loved her, and she’d gotten angry at your confession and had shot down you in classic Roy fashion. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t have time for this. The two of you already had a good thing going but you were weak and now you had ruined it.

She was vicious.

You just weren't good enough. You never would be.

A rat backed into a corner, you’d lashed out at her, desperately hurling insults, and a couple of cruel truths at her to see what stuck. Anything to try and hurt her the way she'd hurt you.

You’d called her a megalomaniac, an emotionally repressed vampire.

"Do you remember? I know I do."

Shiv smiles a twisted grin at the haunted look in your eyes, a deer in the headlights, and smelling blood she zeroes in on your exposed weakness. Anything to get a show of emotion from you.

Sure, Shiv lived up to her name, tongue as sharp as her namesake. But she was a mean drunk and could quickly turn downright fucking cruel after a couple of shots, you knew and had seen that first hand, the fact that she'd been dancing and singing in your kitchen moments ago didn't save you from that.

She licks her lips, a predator ready to sink its teeth into her prey,

"You begged on your knees for me to change my min-"

"Just stop, Shiv. Fuck!" You yell, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and the both of you jump, the latter looking taken aback.

You never yelled. Never.

For just a second there, she looks like the scared, sad little rich girl you’d first befriended at high school and your heart sinks.

Was it worth it?

“I’m sorry.” You murmur placing your head in your hands,

Only 10 minutes into conversation, and you were already cracking under the weight of her words. You really were weak y/n.

You'd known Shiv for years now and were more than familiar with her acerbic tongue but regardless she always knew the right thing to say to push your buttons, even after all this time,

"I don't want to rehash this with you...so just go and be with your fucking husband whom you love so much Siobhan," you mumble, unable to look at her.

This time it’s her turn to wince.

"Fine." Shiv stumbles to her feet again taking an unsteady step towards your door,

“Are you not gonna call your driver to pick you up?” you ask chewing on your bottom lip,

“Why, do you give a fuck now?” she pouts mockingly,

“No, I sent him home for the night…I’m walking…just like I did to get here” Shiv hums matter-of-factly as she attempts to put her shoes back on, failing spectacularly.

She could not be serious.

Your loft was in TRIBECA... Shiv lived on the other side of Manhattan.

You think back to looking for a car that wasn’t there when she’d first arrived at your place.

Okay, so maybe she hadn't taken a car…you knew she wouldn't be caught dead riding the subway...which meant she had in fact walked.

How had she not gotten mugged?    

Daughter of one of the richest men in the world roaming alone in New York?

You couldn’t let her go back out there.

You look over at the redhead and she’s still struggling to do the buckle of her shoes.

It was getting painful to watch.

“Sit down” you sigh, and she shoots you a look,

“No…you don’t want me here.” She replies tersely,

“Just… fucking sit-down Siobhan...please" you sigh, turning around to place a slice of sourdough bread into your sandwich press when she obliges, clumsily sitting herself down at your kitchen island.

If she was going to stick around, you needed her to be soberer than this. 

She drums her fingers on the countertop, those beautiful blue eyes dancing around the room before she begins to spin herself around on the stool she’s sat on, a shit-eating grin spread across her face, your previous exchange of words clearly  already forgotten.

She had to be,at the very least a solid 5 cosmos in.

The sight is jarring in comparison to the full corporate dinner get-up she has on, but you also can’t help but acknowledge it’s the most carefree you’ve seen her look in a while. The redhead usually had that faraway look in her eyes, like she was thinking about 20 different things at once.

She watches you cut her toastie up into squares in silence, and you reach across the table to place the it in front of her.

She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at you.

"Eat up." You state simply sliding the plate closer to her,

Shiv peers at the plate in horror, and anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you'd tried to serve her a turd on her plate, before she pushes it away from her like a petulant child, those piercing blue eyes giving you a look that could kill.

She used to love your classic grilled cheeses.

"It's not caviar or a prime cut of wagyu from Le Bernardin but I promise it's not going to kill you." You nudge teasingly, your attempts at negotiation falling on deaf ears as you’re rewarded with a scoff.

Fuck it. You press your lips in a straight line leaning down to be eye level with her, attempting to give her your own take on the classic Shiv Roy death glare.

"I’ll make you something else If you want but if you don’t eat at least something I’m going to kick you out of my apartment and onto your ass Siobhan.”

The heiress blinks a couple of times, nonplussed at being told by you of all people what to do and begrudgingly she eats up, the alcohol clearly making her more compliant than usual.

You let out a discreet breath, glad she didn't call your bluff.                                    

The truth was that you loved Shiv so ardently that even if the circumstances were different, you wouldn’t even dream of doing that.

The last time you'd spoken she'd pretty much gutted you like a fish, letting her in your apartment was literally going against everything your brain and your therapy sessions told you to do, yet here she was.

You’d do anything for her and that was scary.

There was never any logic, or acknowledgment of your boundaries and wants when Shiv was around. That was you; Y/N the people pleaser.

But how could you help it?

Your love for her was so heavy you could feel its weight on your shoulders as you walked, it sat in the back of your mind like a stone, it clouded your lungs as you breathed...and you eventually couldn't take it anymore. You were choking on it.

You'd coughed it all up and Shiv took one look at you, at all that love, and she’d turned her nose up in disgust.  It came down to it and she didn't choose you. You just weren't enough. You never would be.

You used to think about what it would be like to have her here all the time; Shiv in one of your old T-shirts, perched on the countertop cracking one of her sardonic one-liners as you cooked but you scold yourself immediately, waving the thought away with a wave of your hand.

You watch her in silence as she slowly eats, satisfied as you notice her eyes were less bleary, and she was slightly more subdued, her chaotic and abrasive drunkenness seeming to have mellowed out to her just being slightly tipsy. You could relax in the fact that you likely wouldn’t be cleaning her vomit off of your mahogany floors tomorrow morning at the very least.

You rise to your feet, wordlessly turning to head to your room, and she takes the hint and follows you.

It wasn’t like your place had a guest room anyway.

You watch her in silence as she wipes off her makeup then slowly begins to take off her bracelets…then earrings and necklace, pausing when she gets to her watch.

"…It’s been 5 months y/n…were you just...never going to call me again?" She eventually asks hesitantly, voice small.

Oh.

She didn't exactly make it seem like she wanted to hear from you.

What did you say to that?

How were you supposed to lay out a decade and a half of hurt in one sentence?

You shrug, unknowing of the answer yourself.

"We already did it enough as teens and in our 20s, so I just…I didn't feel up to playing 'friends' again with Mrs Roy-Wambsgans..." you stare at your hands so that you don’t have to look at her,

You hear her take in a shuddering breath.

"I'm not trying to be a cunt...but that's the reason why I didn’t. And our last conversation really did a number on me...after we spoke I was just so...."

Shiv nods, swallowing deeply, before turning her back to you, moving her hair to the side.

You take the hint and help her unzip her dress.

"I'm sorry..." she murmurs tears welling in her eyes as she climbs out of it, the soft green fabric falling to the floor, leaving her in her underwear.

"I know..." you breath out in exhaustion, handing her a pair of your satin pajamas.

You were so tired. Tired of hearing sorry. Tired of feeling sorry. Tired of being in love with a woman who didn't want to give you the time of day unless you had something she needed. You were tired of giving. You had nothing more to give.

"Do you remember, the night before my wedding?"

"Please don't do this to me again, Shiv." You beg in anguish,

"What you said..."

"I just said don't."

She opens her mouth again, eyes glistening,

"I begged you not to marry Tom..." you interrupt, hoping hearing the story from your own lips would make it hurt less,

"You said that I could do so much better than him...that he didn't love me as much as you did" continues Shiv

"And maybe that is true... maybe I can do better...maybe he can do better." Shiv's chest shudders and she presses her eyes tightly shut,

"But...most of all you can do better than me."

"you're selfless and compassionate...and I don't know if I can love you in the way that you want the way that you say you lov"-

"But do you?" You croak out, voice breaking,

"Love me, I mean"

Shiv falters,

"Well…what difference does it make..." she sighs dejectedly.

You slowly walk toward her, hand slightly raised like you were approaching a dangerous animal as you look into the shorter woman's eyes.

"Shiv…do you love me?" You whisper again voice catching after each word.

Shiv opens and closes her mouth repeatedly, and you wait for her to say something as she searches for the right words.

…they never come.

She looks at you, that same vague look in her eyes, lifting her hand as though reaching out to touch you but she pauses halfway, opting to put her thumb in between her teeth, biting as though physically retraining herself.

You didn’t really know her anymore, but you still recognised her tells, the puckering of her lips when she was trying to stop herself from saying something, the biting of the tip of her thumb when she was anxious.

You watch taken aback, as her face starts to twist with emotion.

You'd never seen Shiv truly lost for words like that.

She rakes a hand through her hair in exasperation.

"I...fuck" she grunts, retreating from you, as she turns to angrily wipe away a stray tear with the back of her right hand,

"You're good...too good." She sniffs eyes red rimmed,

"I'm....not a good person y/n, I don't want to tarnish you with my...me."

You look at her with a sigh before letting out an empty chuckle, looking upwards as you feel the tears, you'd been holding in start to stream down your cheeks,

Maybe it was too late for that. The damage had already been done.

Shiv suddenly turns around to look at you, eyes hardened with resolve as she quickly stalks across the room, before she straddles your lap, pressing her forehead against yours.

She leans forward, gently leaning in to kiss your tears away in a silent apology and your eyes flutter closed at the sensation, trying to burn the feeling of her touch into your memory.

She places a feverish kiss against your cheek. Then your wrist.

Then another wet kiss against that soft spot below your jaw that she knows drives you crazy and you melt into her as you reward her with a needy moan, goading her on, once again.

You just couldn't help yourself.

"Fuck...Shiv..." you mewl, arms draped around her neck,

"You like that...right?" She whispers, her tone sultry and slow but, but her movements contrastingly hurried.

Why did this feel like a test.

She knew you did.

"only thing sweeter than the sound of those moans you make is how you taste..." she husks,

"We shouldn’t..."

No matter how much you really wanted to.

"Please" she gasps in between trailing kisses down your neck,

"I want to give you everything you deserve...”

“…so much...I really want to try but don't know how."

"You were right about what you said...last time...All I do is take and take and take but it's because I don't know how to give." continues the heiress, voice wobbling.

She was crying.

"Just let me give you this..." she continues in a ragged breath, hand reaching under your top to palm one of your breasts, gently pinching your nipples and you squeeze your tear-filled eyes shut as you can’t help but find yourself arching into her touch.

"Just tell me what you want me to do to you...I just...want to make you feel good" she rasps but it’s off, her voice sounds shaky...desperate,

“This is the only way I know how”.

Sex with Shiv always was always so good, but you always found yourself feeling worse off after. You were greedy. You wanted more. More of Shiv. You wanted all of her-but you'd settle for this, doing anything to have her close.

But the want was eating away at you.

Chipping at you bit by bit until there was nothing.

Sometimes you felt like that'd already happened. Like there was nothing left to you anymore, you were just a black hole and you and your thoughts were just all Shiv.

This was a bad idea.

“I don’t know Shiv…” you sigh suddenly, begrudging pushing her hands away from you, despite the fact that they felt oh-so good on your body.

Shiv pauses, tear stained face frowning at you in confusion, as she tries to figure you out

“O-Okay well…how about…you can just do whatever you want to me?” she suggests frantically, guiding your hands under her shirt, you can feel her trembling slightly beneath your skin,

"Let just leave it.” You sniff,

She jumps out of your lap as though burned.

Sometimes your relationship with Shiv felt like a wound, and she was a vampire; that maybe she couldn’t help it, but the moment she smelt blood she'd feast on you, your affection, your infatuation. She’d always be gone the moment there was nothing more of you to devour. Each time you were left behind, desperately still clinging onto the bloody remains of the love you still had for her despite her shredding them between her teeth.

You'd been periodically drifting in and out of each other’s lives this way for the past 17 years.

First, you were 15, the quiet new girl at Sacred Hearts who'd been plucked out of obscurity to be best friends with Shiv 'the queen' Roy. You remember ducking under the bedsheets at a sleepover with her exchanging kisses and giggling, a private and exciting secret between the two of you…you were her dirty secret, even now it felt like you always would be. Then you were the 20-something London party girls who were joint at the hip: appearing oddly close to others but nothing more than friends who just happened to secretly sleep with each other sometimes.

Then there was whatever this was. 

This Shiv wasn’t really your friend, or even your “lover” anymore, sometimes the term felt too warm to describe what you were doing together. This Shiv was worlds away from the one you once knew; she wore turtlenecks and silk blouses and had a sharp blunt cut bob and the insults to match.

What had happened in the years you’d been away from each other?

Who’d made her this way?

You wanted to hug her. To hold her close to you and huddle under a blanket like you had as kids for as long as she’d let you. You wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to put on the armour anymore, that you were safe, and that she could be vulnerable with you without any ulterior motives.

But now you were asking yourself whether there even was any armour to take off anymore. maybe this was just Shiv now. But then on the occasion there were those odd moments, those slithers of light, where you saw glimpses of the Shiv you once knew again; how she’d often make teasing jokes with that old sparkle in her eyes, the way she giggles, ticklish when your fingers ghost past her waist in bed, the way she’d kiss you sweetly in the moments after…how she looked at you in adoration when you came undone.

You’d realised after that that you loved her anyway. Shiv Roy: jaded rich private school girl, party girl socialite, ruthless Waystar-Royco successor…you loved them all.

But the thing was didn't know if you had it in you to keep on doing this. If your heart could take any more of this.

"So…what, are things just never going to go back to the way they were before then?" Shiv asks evenly, the youngest Roy hunching over herself as she cradles her elbows close to her sides, looking off into the distance-unable to meet your eyes.

Before what? Before she broke your heart? Before you'd kissed for the very first time? Or before you told her you loved her?

You close your eyes a sob wracking through your body, before you shake your head,

"Maybe... we need to cut our losses here...maybe this is wasting our time, and this isn't what either of us needs."

Maybe the problem wasn't other people...but just you and Shiv. The two of you weren't meant to be in each other's lives. No matter how much you loved her it wouldn't be enough.

Shiv was assured, practical, cautious and calculated: almost everything she said  and did had a motive or thought  behind it, even her marriage had logic and purpose and some kind of benefit driving it alongside the fact she loved him.

Shiv worked and strove toward power.

You on the other hand wore your heart on your sleeve when you were upset or emotional you cried openly and unabashedly. You drifted through life trying to find an identity for yourself outside of your rich family…you were always trying to fix things and people that couldn’t or didn’t want to be fixed, trying to worm your way into Shiv’s heart when she didn’t want you to.  

You were a liability.

It was never going to work. She was never going to pick someone like you.

Shiv blanches,

"Okay well...I need you." She grits out tensely, fists tightly balled by her sides. You could see her eyes were watering again.,

She needed you.

 But maybe it wasn’t in the same way you needed her. You wanted her. You wanted her with every fibre of your being.

"I need you." sniffs Shiv, so quiet and wavering you have to strain to hear her, grabbing onto you as though you might disappear,

"But you don't love me" you weep, crumbling at the realisation that she was never going to see you the way you saw her.

Shiv doesn't say anything, but you think that's all you need to hear.

She crawls into your bed, maintaining her silence as she lifts the blanket for you to climb in after her. You slide in beside her, at first back first pressed against hers, but eventually mentally talking yourself into turning to face her.

You inch forward until your noses are touching staring into those expressive steely blue eyes; cold at first glance but always swirling with emotion beneath the surface...she'd become an expert at making sure you could never tell which ones.

You think you’d memorised every inch of her face by now high apple cheeks,those long translucent eyelashes,and the freckles beneath the usual layer of makeup that you never got to see.

She was beautiful and she knew it.

Once when you were kids, you'd stared at her during the entirety of a study group, counting all of the freckles dusted on her face, and when you'd told her afterwards what you were doing she'd rolled her eyes and kissed the thought away from your mind.

You'd do anything to get inside of her mind. To know what she was thinking. Whether you truly ever meant something to her.

"My sweet, Sweet y/n." She whispers, but it a voice in the back of your head tells you it feels mocking, then suddenly you're unable to tell if her voice was dripping with sweetness or condescension.

Sweet, Sweet, stupid Y/N. Willing to risk it all for someone who would never love you back.

She was right in saying you were hers. Your heart did belong to Shiv. But Shiv wasn't yours. She never was, and she never would be.

She cups your face in her hands, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks before she pulls you into a sweet kiss that seems to go on forever and you revel in the feeling of her lips on yours, grasping onto her as though she might disappear until the kiss tastes salty from both of your tears.

It felt like a farewell.

You don't let go of her, wanting to keep the feeling of the soft warmth of her skin against yours, fingertips slowly raking down her arms, starting from her shoulders, taking time to map out each and every beautiful blemish on her skin on the way down. It reminded you that Shiv was in fact still human.

You nick your finger on something sharp and quickly retract your hand hissing as you look down to see the glimmering emerald of a ring sitting on her finger; a reminder of who you really were to Shiv: someone to pass the time with when her husband the man she chose over you, was gone.

She moves her hands out of your reach.

"You just...keep on hurting me" you whisper out dejectedly through your tears.

You felt like you'd never forgive her for coming here and making you experience this all over again. You’d never forgive yourself.

Sure, Shiv was laying in your bed...in your arms but nothing had changed.

She presses her forehead against yours, and you reach a hand up to touch her cheek, to check if she was still there physically, despite the cavern of circumstances separating you from each other, despite the emotional gap she’d intentionally forged between the two of you.

“i know…”

You let out a shaky sigh “I…I don’t know if it’s doing either of us any good to keep seeing each other.”

"I know..." Shiv wobbles out, finally allowing herself to cry freely,

*

You hated her. You loved her. You wished you'd never met her. You didn't quite know how to live your life without her looming presence in it.

With a chaste kiss against your collarbone, she presses her face into the gentle curve of your neck, and you wrap your arms around her to pull her against your chest.

You exhale shudderingly and press your lips to the top of her head, taking a deep breath to inhale the scent of her coconut shampoo one the last time. Eyes snapping closed you mumble a silent mantra into silky strawberry-blonde locks:

Love me, Love me, Love me.

Maybe in another life.

____

You don’t allow yourself to feel surprised as you wake up the next day and Shiv is gone.

This is one occurrence of many that you have been left reeling by the hurricane that was Shiv Roy, but it still hurts just as much as it did the first time as you feel your heart cracking.

[computed-dear]

Ramblings about Spuhura in AOS (this got a bit long)

I thought I didn't really mind Spuhura in AOS, but I think it really messes up the characterisation of Spock. They just didn't have a plan where to take that relationship. I feel like the extent to their thinking was well Uhura is hot and people will be surprised to see repressed Spock in a relationship, but they didn't want to flesh out her character. And they (rightfully) made Kirk and Spock have the most important relationship in the movies, so Uhura is supposed to be important to Spock, but we rarely feel the weight of that.

So in the end Spock kind of looks like a bad boyfriend, because his most important emotional scenes, the moments he loses his control are all with Kirk. Which is great because it reinforces Spirk, but Uhura just stays an afterthought and they could have done so much more with her character. I saw this interview where Zoe Saldana seemed glad that Uhura and Spock had broken up in Beyond because he had been her teacher and maybe she had outgrown that relationship. I mean even the actor thought more about this than the filmmakers!

And how does it reflect on Spock that he chose a relationship with his student? I know me too hadn't happened in 2009, but in TOS in the 60s they managed to make Kirk a compelling character by making him not sleep with his subordinates. And showing this impossibility to find personal happiness at his job as a struggle for him. Which makes him likeable.

I think they didn't understand what the relationship between Kirk and Spock really symbolizes, how it outweighs every other connection. They just wanted to build on something that already existed and took it for granted.

And yes, this is an alternate universe, but if you reboot Kirk and Spock, it needs to be done right. And isn't the beauty of it all that Spock learns about emotions from Kirk, this open minded, kind hearted man, that does not judge him. And for that you need to have Spock start in a place of relative isolation. There are alternate universes and then there is misunderstanding characters to a point you are losing their essence.

[feathered-yelloweye]

About Oktavia von Seckendorff

There's a lot to say about Oktavia (personally I'd say it's the easiest to find interesting stuff about her out of all the witches) but here's some stuff I've been thinking about.

(I'm aware that most of this has probably already been pointed out by someone at some point, I just want to ramble)

Her name

Oktavia is more obvious. Oktavia -> Octavia (latin, "the eighth"). In music an octave is an interval of eight whole tones (it's the same note in a different pitch, I don't know if people who don't care about music know this stuff).

Sayaka and Oktavia are both music themed I don't have to explain the connection, but I also find it interesting to note that Oktavia's first appearance is in the eight episode of the anime.

The interesting part is von Seckendorff, I know. Karl Siegmund von Seckendorff (26 November 1744 - 26 April 1785) was a German poet and composer (and military officer, which doesn't seem relevant right now but considering the knight elements in Oktavia's design that might have played into it?).

I'll be completely honest, he has very few creations and I cannot get access to any of them (he really was not relevant enough, I suppose) but Wikipedia lists one of his works as Das Rad des Schicksals, oder die Geschichte des Thoangesis, which directly translates to the wheel of fate, or the story of the Thoangesis(??). I do not know what is in that text, I can't even get an e-book of it. However, the title alone reminds me of the many wheels in Oktavia's labyrinth and other depictions of her.

This is going to sound like I'm reaching but the name von Seckendorff can also be connected to Kriemhild Gretchen (Madoka's witch). Karl Siegmund von Seckendorff found inspiration in Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, translated one of his novels and composed music for some of his poems. Goethe's Faust seems to inspire aspects of Kriemhild Gretchen, and considering the inherent connection between Sayaka and Madoka I feel like this is worth mentioning. (I might elaborate on this separately but the basic connection between Madoka and Goethe's Faust is: girl named Magarete loses her innocence/purity and becomes trapped and destroyed — from that point on is referred to as Gretchen. Being a witch is loosing your innocence freedom etc, being a witch turns Madoka into ((Kriemhild)) Gretchen.)

Von Seckendorff was never really successful when pursuing the arts, by the way. (I mean, people barely know him.) There's something to be said about Sayaka's whole story, about her being destined to always turn into a witch and never "succeed".

Her design

Most people are somewhat aware of the whole little mermaid thing, but I'll mention it again just in case. Sayaka's story greatly resembles that of the little mermaid (not Disney), which could explain Oktavia being referred to as the mermaid witch (and literally being a mermaid, she has a tail) as well as the general water/ocean theme both her and Sayaka have. You can read it yourself if you're interested, but long story short the little mermaid wants a human soul and a prince's love and exchanges her tongue (yeah) for legs with a sea witch so she can be on the surface, though she can't speak. (So still similar to the Disney version) The Prince does not fall for her, she dies of a broken heart and jumps into the sea, dissolving into sea foam.

The mermaid makes a great sacrifice for her wish and the love she desires and ends up not gaining anything from it, instead loosing her life as her soul withers away in the sea. Very Sayaka.

Okay this one seems weird but I thought of it when rewatching the series again.

In the first episode Junko (Madoka's mother) notes that pink ribbons will attract affection/attraction from men. Sayaka only became a magical girl in the first place because she desired Kyōsuke's love (and Octavia is destined to appear in every timeline that Sayaka makes a pact with Kyubey in, so you could argue that the desire for love is a direct reason for Octavia's existence.) (Oktavia is stated to be all about love/falling in love so I guess that's canon.)

I think the ribbon could just be there because of the school uniform, but I don't think that's the case (or at least not the only case. Design choices can have several inspirations) When witches take inspiration from their respective magical girl's designs it's usually about the actual magical girl clothes and not casual/school clothes. So yeah, I like to think it's meant to represent Oktavia's desire to love and be loved.

There's probably a lot more to say about her but these are some of my thoughts :3