#a friendship that's become something more

[hgfictionwriter]

Revelations: Part Seven

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: The distance between you and Jessie wears on you. There are layers to grief and loss. It's hard to keep moving forward, especially amidst flashes of your old life and what could've been.

Warnings: Angst. Language.

A/N: It’s a long one! Rest of the series is here.

Removing yourself from your relationship - and friendship - with Jessie, brought you some reprieve. However, it had its costs.

You didn't miss the tension, the longing, the anxiety and angst that had become the hallmarks of your dynamic with her the past few months, however that didn't mean that suddenly you were okay and things were better.

You didn't need your therapist to tell you you were depressed. But, as they - and your friends and family - said, you at least had a chance to move on now that there was space between you and her.

That said, despite the few weeks that passed, you couldn't deny that you still missed her tremendously. Nearly everything still sparked thoughts and feelings of her. It was unrelenting and oh so frustrating. Even without her presence in your life, she still held such estate. Try as you might, there was no real escape.

Christ, you even thought of Zoie sometimes.

And there was no one to blame but you.

The fact that you hadn't heard from Jessie during this time period made it that much more shameful and pathetic. No ‘How are you?’s. No ‘How is your day?’. No ‘What are you up to this weekend?’.

You’d laid down a line and she followed it. Even though it’s what you needed, the pain was incessant - this dull ache that flared with sharp peaks throughout various parts of the day and night.

You wondered if it was hurting her too or if she’d managed to forget about you. Even the mere thought of the latter nearly sent you to the brink of distress.

You got your answer when you received a package from her in the mail.

You'd not been expecting anything, so when you retrieved a box from the parcel unit in your building, you'd frowned in confusion though something in the recess of your mind twinged in recognition of her handwriting before the rest of your consciousness caught up and saw her name as the sender.

Your heartbeat began to thud loudly in your chest and you'd rushed back up to your apartment with the parcel clutched tightly in your hands. In the elevator, you'd turned it over and studied it, feeling weight and contents shift about inside of it as you did so.

Sitting down at your coffee table, you stared at the package a moment longer before picking at the tape of the neatly folded and wrapped kraft paper and gingerly took it apart.

You opened the box and a deep green envelope lay atop of a series of items below. The envelope again bore her writing, this time with your name written neatly in the center. Without thinking you snatched up the card and opened it.

Happy birthday, Y/N. I hope you have an amazing day and a great year ahead. You deserve the best.

Always,

Jessie

A small breath escaped you as you finished reading and you only belated realized all of the tension that was sitting in your shoulders and the way your hands felt numb.

You reread the card, wanting to experience that warm tingle in your chest once more.

“Always.” You hung onto that word as if it were a lifeline. One silly word soothed you so significantly that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Your thumb grazed absently over her handwritten name before you closed your eyes in a wince and shut the card with a curt shake of your head. You exhaled tersely, annoyance with yourself and your sentimentality beginning to build. You set the card aside and took another breath before peering into the box.

Slowly, you picked up and took in each item in the box. You took your time; relishing in each discovery.

The box was full of thoughtful, personal gifts. Some handmade, some store bought, but each meant something and you know she'd thought about each item carefully.

Jessie had always been an exceptional gift giver and always generous, especially when it came to you. It seems this remained true despite everything.

A flash of tightness formed in the pit of your stomach. You couldn't help but feel like you didn't deserve this. That after everything, you didn't deserve her care and attention - even like this.

That twinge of uncertainty and guilt was easily overshadowed by the warmth - and renewed yearning - you felt for her.

You picked up your phone and opened your conversation with her, ignoring the dull pain that formed as you had to scroll down your messages to get to her name now that you spoke so infrequently.

"I just got your package. Thank you SO much for the gifts. You are far too generous, Jess. Thank you. They're all great. The spa gift certificate is perfect timing lol."

You wanted to ask her how she was. How she was doing. Something inside you told you not to complicate things.

You stared expectantly at your phone, practically - stupidly - counting the seconds as you waited for a response.

Eventually your screen timed out and you came to your senses, embarrassed with yourself. Of course she wasn't going to respond s-

Your screen lit up with a message from her.

"You're very welcome! I'm glad it made it. And I'm glad you like the gifts. Happy birthday, Y/N. I hope you have a great one.”

A smile unknowingly crossed your lips as you read her message. You took a deep breath as you saw her typing another one.

"I hope you're doing well."

You expelled the breath in quiet disappointment.

You'd half expected her - hoped even, despite knowing you'd need to shut it down - to strike up conversation again. When she didn't, it made your chest tighten with loss anew.

You couldn't be upset. She was respecting the boundaries that you set. It was what you wanted. What you asked for. But that didn't mean it didn't sting like hell.

“Thanks Jess. I appreciate this a lot. Truly. I hope you, Zoie and Sara are doing well.”

It felt petty to specifically leave Sara out of it.

Jessie replied quickly.

“Zoie and I are doing well. Thank you - it means a lot.”

You wanted to inquire but knew you couldn’t. Shouldn’t.

“I’m really glad to hear that, Jess.”

You hoped you didn’t sound passive aggressive. You really meant it. You exhaled through your nose in a huff as you typed further.

“Thank you again. It made my day. Take care.”

“You too, Y/N. Happy birthday.”

And just like that, it was over again.

You wanted more, but knew it wasn’t fair or right. This interaction had reached its natural conclusion and you had to let it go.

When your phone lit up later with a text from Elysse, your pulsed quickened once more. All contact with the Flemings had ceased and it left a hole in your heart. They'd become like true family to you and to not have them in your life anymore added to the pain of this entire situation.

“Happy birthday!!! I hope you’ve had a day full of rest and relaxation (or maybe a lot of fun!). Miss you lots. You’ll always be a sister-in-law to me 😉"

You sighed a mixture of appreciation and grief. You stared at her message for several moments. You wanted to call her. Ask her how she’d been. What was new.

You wanted to hear about Jessie, too.

Instead…

“Thanks Elysse. I appreciate it a lot. I hope you and the whole family are doing great. Miss you all, too.”

—————

You looked at the date and time in the corner of your screen. While you should’ve been thinking about work, instead you were calculating how many hours until kickoff.

You didn’t have to be in Jessie’s life to know of the upcoming tournament.

And you may have been guilty of checking the national team’s social accounts the past couple of days to see if she’d arrived and been in training.

You hadn’t actively been looking originally. But this was a soccer town - you heard about all the big tournaments and you also knew timing from years passed.

A sense of hollowness sat in your chest as you’d indulged in viewing the clips of training - your thumb belatedly tapping to the next story after seeing glimpses of Jessie. It was a small reprieve, you supposed, that Jessie was so adverse to being in media otherwise you’d see her face plastered everywhere.

You always used to support Jessie during national duty, showing up for as much of the tournaments as possible, even if only for one match.

Memories of dinners and hang-outs with the team and staff, significant others and family, all came flooding back.

Memories of stolen moments with Jessie. Sneaking off to an empty room to find time together - to check-in, connect, and well, sometimes more.

You released a shaky breath as you pushed increasingly vivid images aside. Time to refocus.

Anxious thoughts pinged back and forth in your mind as you debated what to do. What to say. When. You tried not to lament on how you never had to worry about these things before.

Finally, you huffed in finality, hurriedly wrote out a message and sent it before you could slip back into self-doubt.

“Good luck today. You and the team are going to kill it out there. I’m rooting for you all.”

You didn’t expect to hear back from her anytime soon. Never mind the current circumstances of your situation, but also because she mostly stayed off her phone immediately leading up to a match.

You kept an eye on the clock and a twinge of anticipation hit you as your phone lit up shortly before warm-ups would’ve began.

“Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate that. [Opponent] is tough, but the team is ready to make them fight for it. Thanks again.”

You made a point of not watching the stream, but you did check the updates frequently. Canada won. You wanted to text her congrats, but it seemed like overkill.

Instead, you committed to texting her when the tournament wrapped or when Canada exited. Hopefully later rather than sooner, for her and the team’s sake.

Still, surprise swept over you when your phone lit up with a text from Jessie later that afternoon - evening where she was.

“The team says ‘Hi’.”

Nostalgia and yearning rushed over you immediately.

There were so many layers - losses - to all of this.

“Say ‘hi’ back, please! You all played great today. Hope you all get lots of rest before the next match. I’m sending you all best wishes and good luck. Take care out there. And tell Janine to go easy on you when you play Uno to kill time.”

You were only vaguely aware of the sad smile you wore as you sent your text.

“Lol I most definitely will. Thanks Y/N. Enjoy the rest of your day. Take care.”

Janine texted you shortly after.

“Miss you, buddy. And don’t worry. I’m taking care of her.”

You nearly choked up upon reading her message. You rest your head in your hand for a moment. There was so much you wanted to say.

You hearted her text and replied.

“Thanks Janine. Means more than you know.”

——————

You frowned as you searched for something on your phone as your feet carried you down the street and distractedly around other pedestrians.

A jolt ran through you when you faintly heard a small voice say your name nearby.

It snapped you out of your trance and your steps stuttered to a stop. You turned around to search out the source.

You narrowed your eyes as you scanned the crowds of people passing and standing around until you spotted a small finger pointing your direction.

The kid had their back to you, arm pointed behind them but as you quickly processed their profile, their hair, your pulse began to grow strong and fast as realization set in. Your breath caught as the child turned back towards you and it well and truly was Zoie.

She tugged on someone’s hand and smiled up at them while pointing back at you anew.

Your gaze followed Zoie’s and you locked eyes with Jessie who stood with a wide-eyed expression and soft frown of surprise.

Your jaw fell, words wanting to come out but failing and you looked about in mild panic. A flurry of thoughts and feelings clashed inside of you until the movement from Zoie giving you a shy wave broke you from your stasis.

A rush of breath escaped you and you smiled at her with a belated, stilted wave. Zoie waved fully now, going up onto her tiptoes briefly before looking back at Jessie excitedly, tugging on her hand furthermore while Jessie stood there seemingly just as shell shocked as you.

Your eyes drew up to Jessie and her posture straightened as her lips came together in a tight smile while she herself offered a feeble wave and looking so uncertain.

Your eyes panned left and right. You slowly registered that they were in a lineup for the ice cream shop. Your senses peaked in realization that there was no sign of Sara.

You weren’t sure what possessed you. Maybe it was Zoie’s reaction, maybe it was old magnetism still at play. All you knew was suddenly your legs walked you over to them, despite your mind struggling to reconcile this situation and catch up. Zoie smiled wider as you approached.

“Hi,” you greeted with another awkward, fleeting wave as you reached them both.

“Hi,” Jessie said in subdued surprise. Her expression remained unchanged until she offered you a flash of a smile. Her eyes were fixed on you, intense and curious for those moments before she was jostled by Zoie wrapping Jessie’s arm in front of her in a hug as she backed into Jessie’s legs and looked up at you with a giggle.

“Hi,” Zoie greeted, both smiley and bashful and bringing you back, things snapping into focus once more.

“I, um,” you closed your eyes briefly and shook you head with a faint laugh. “Um, it’s nice to see you,” you said as you looked between the two of them.

Your brain seemed to finally catch up with everything. You looked down at Zoie with a renewed smile.

“Zoie, it’s so good to see you,” you said warmly. You glanced up at the signage for the shop. “Is your mama treating you to some ice cream?”

Zoie nodded rapidly with a grin crossing her face. She giggled again, pulling Jessie’s arm tighter against her as she looked up at her.

“Yeah. She said I could have ice cream if I stayed for my dance class this morning,” she relayed.

“Oh?” You voiced as you glanced up at Jessie who let out a chuckle as her eyes flit away sheepishly. When she looked at you again she spoke conspiratorially.

“Someone really didn’t like their first class last week and, well, demanded to leave,” she said with a knowing glance down at her daughter. “However, I took her today and said it’s important to stick it out and really try it.” She gave Zoie a light squeeze and looked down to her as she spoke, “You don’t have to like it, but you do need to try.” The girl nodded wordlessly against Jessie’s forearm.

Jessie looked back at you with a faint smirk. “Ice cream for finishing today’s class. Trip to the zoo for finishing the full set of classes.” She winked at Zoie who laughed before glancing at you again. “Mild bribery,” Jessie whispered with a feeble laugh as she averted her gaze once more.

"And how was it?" You asked Zoie. She gave a faint nod and a shrug.

"It was okay," she said.

You could've said 'okay', wished them well and been on your way. Instead, you remained rooted to your spot and engaged further.

“Dance can be a lot of fun,” you told her reassuringly. “What don't you like about it?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Zoie pouted slightly. “Other kids know the steps and I didn’t.”

Your face fell into an empathetic smile for the poor girl. You leaned down slightly.

“I know how that is. I didn’t like dance when I first started. The other girls were older than me and it seemed like I was the only one who didn’t know what to do. But,” you glanced up at Jessie briefly, “my mom made me go back and, you know what, I practiced, and eventually I learned the steps too and I even made some friends. I ended up loving dance. If you give it a chance, maybe you will too.”

Zoie watched you quietly. It was a mannerism so much like Jessie and here they were both silently studying you. Eventually Zoie’s face broke out in a smile.

“Do you still dance?”

You laughed. “Well. No. Not anymore really.” Your mind cruelly recalled the last time you danced. Specifically, dancing with Jessie at one of her post-season team get togethers. Zoie looked expectantly at you and you tried to think of anything encouraging and ended up saying. “But it’s fun when I do.”

You cleared your throat and tried to settle your nerves.

“Anyway, I should-”

“What’s your favourite kind of ice cream?” Zoie inquired innocently, cutting you off and you rose your eyebrows in question.

“Um. My favourite? Oh. Um, I like many, but if I had to pick one,” you brought a finger to your lip as you contemplated, “[y/favourite flavour].”

Zoie looked up at Jessie.

“Can I try that one today?”

Jessie laughed and couldn’t help but give you an amused look before quickly ridding herself of it.

“If you want," she answered Zoie, smiling gently at her. "Or maybe I get it so you can try it, but you still get what you first wanted. Cause I'm not sure you'll love it," she added giving you a cursory, knowing look and you somehow found yourself having to stifle a chuckle.

The line had moved a few times as you talked and you'd absently followed along. When it started to move again, you went to speak up but Zoie beat you to it.

"But I thought you were getting cookies and cream and we were going to share," Zoie asked, looking up at Jessie with big brown eyes.

Jessie snorted a laugh. "And I thought you were getting cotton candy," she said amused.

Zoie looked unnecessarily crestfallen for a second before turning to you with bright eyes and a wide smile.

"If you get [y/favourite flavour] then we can all share," she suggested.

You froze at the sudden invitation and you belatedly realized you didn't exactly mask your shock.

"Y/N is busy," Jessie told Zoie as she leaned down slightly and spoke in a hushed voice, urging the little girl to look up at her. "We interrupted her. She was doing other things." Jessie straightened back up, offering you a brief tight-lipped smile before adding gently, "She was nice enough to stop and say 'hi', but let's let her get on with her day."

Against all logic, you felt a stinging sensation inside your chest at Jessie's dismissal of you. No, of course you shouldn't stay, but it still managed to hurt that she didn't ask you to.

You used to think you were a reasonable person, but the past few months really put that perception into question.

"But we haven't seen her in a long time," Zoie said, her disappointment plain and surprising you.

You were always kind to Zoie - and you prayed that during your times together before she hadn't picked up on any of your angst about the entire situation. Evidently, you'd done a good enough job because by some miracle this little girl seemed to like you. Not only that, liked you enough to care all this time later.

She really was sweet.

"Zo," Jessie said, her tone shifting. She was about to speak when the clash of feelings and energy inside your chest took over instead.

"I can stop for a bit," you interjected. Jessie's eyes snapped up from Zoie to you in sheer surprise. Your heart raced as you tried to discern if she was upset or annoyed, but something told you she wasn't.

While Jessie wore quiet shock on her face, Zoie clapped her hands excitedly, drawing both your attention.

Jessie began to stammer, her eyes flitting from you to Zoie and back again.

"A-are you sure? You really don't have to," she offered, showing her nerves slightly with her voice a bit quiet and breathy.

Doubt washed over you as you held Jessie's gaze and tried to comprehend what was going on beneath the surface.

"Oh, I, um, I definitely can go. I don't want to interrupt you two. I just - I'm the one who interrupted you. I'm sorry," you backtracked, feeling your face begin to heat up now.

"No, I-" Jessie started strongly, even extending a hand partially before retracting it and hiding it behind her while she reset. She offered you another polite smile. "We don't mind. I just," she took a breath, "don't want to impose." She continued to lock eyes with you, adding, "No expectations."

Now you were the one to stammer. You studied Jessie and the line moved again. You glanced down at Zoie who was watching you with anticipation. You fell into line beside them.

"It's a good day for ice cream anyway," you joked feebly.

Zoie began to talk excitedly and your mind whirred with a barrage of thoughts and concerns. Despite the sudden fog you were in, you became acutely aware of Jessie's watchful eyes on you. When you made eye contact with her she readily averted her gaze, determinedly looking elsewhere.

"So, uh, where's Sara?" You tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible, now you the one who purposefully studied all of your surroundings.

"I'm not too sure," Jessie responded and your head snapped back to her with a frown. If the reaction stirred anything in her she masked it well. "This little one's with me this week," Jessie answered, though speaking to Zoie and ruffling her hair.

Holy fuck. So they sorted out custody. You had a million questions and you opened your mouth to inquire when some part of your mind harshly reminded you that it was none of your business. Or your concern.

Soon enough the three of you were back outside of the shop, each with a cup of ice cream of your own. Zoie eyed your cup as you all found a spot to sit together.

"You first," you said as you held it out to her, sparking a beaming smile from her. She immediately grabbed her spoon and shoved it into your ice cream, mixing her colours and flavours with yours.

"Zo," Jessie chided with an exasperated laugh, but you gave a shake of your head in dismissal and mouthed 'It's fine'.

Zoie took a bite and you stifled a laugh at how her face slowly scrunched up, clearly not appreciating your choice.

"You don't have to like it," you told her. She frowned, giving you a ridiculously discerning look.

"I like mine better," she said through a look of mild disapproval as she dug into her own ice cream.

"And that's perfectly okay." You chuckled as she smiled once more as she took a bite of her own. You turned, feeling Jessie's eyes on you. The woman immediately looked down at her cup, taking a great interest in the ice cream before her, digging her spoon into it and just shifting it about in the cup.

Your compulsions controlled you and you found yourself holding out your cup to her. She blinked at you in surprise.

You'd always shared with each other, but, given current circumstances, you could understand her reaction.

Wordlessly, you held it out further and she eventually cracked a faint smile as she took a spoonful and ate it.

Your eyes were drawn back to Zoie who'd now stilled and was watching Jessie intently. Upon seeing how her mom didn't react anything like her to the spoonful, her gaze shifted over to your cup again curiously.

Again, you bit back a smirk and held out your cup to her once more. She looked between you, Jessie and the cup several times before tentatively reaching her spoon in. She spooned it into her cup and mixed it a bit with her own before taking a cautious bite.

You both watched her. You and Jessie locking eyes briefly with one another and shifting nervously upon the eye contact, before Zoie swallowed with a brief nod, eyes still trained on her ice cream and eating more.

"It's okay I guess."

You both laughed, catching one another's eye momentarily.

When everyone was finished, Jessie politely took all the cups and threw them out, leaving you with Zoie.

"Do you want to go to the park?" Zoie asked as she looked up at you, the sun now fully out and in her eyes. She squinted, holding a hand up to block the rays.

"Here," you offered instinctually as you took your sunglasses out of your pocket and handed them to her. Her eyes lit up as she took them and unfolded them to put them on. The larger size threw her off and she struggled a bit to align them properly. "Oh, uh, let me help," you said tentatively as you gingerly reached out - not sure if you were being presumptuous or not - and helped slide them on.

Jessie returned as you finished and Zoie spun around to her.

"Mama, look!" She exclaimed as she showed them off proudly.

"Oh, wow," Jessie laughed, clearly bemused. She glanced over to you with a smirk, but soon reached out for them. "Hon, you're gonna break those," she said and Zoie's hands flew up to hold the arms of the sunglasses in place.

"I like them," she protested.

"They're very nice. You look very stylish," she said patiently with another smirk. "But you have your own. And your hat," she went on as she retrieved said things from the backpack she wore. Zoie pouted as Jessie removed your sunglasses, but she didn't fuss.

Jessie folded them up and reached across the divide between you offering them back.

"Thank you," she said softly. You took them wordlessly, both of you seemingly very cognizant of where your fingers were during the handover to avoid any contact. You put the sunglasses on.

"I like them," Zoie repeated, a faint whine in her tone.

"I know, sweetie," Jessie continued patiently in amusement. "Maybe I'll get a pair for you like that someday."

Zoie perked up and tugged at the hem of Jessie's shorts. "You should take a picture so you remember. And then you can have a new picture of Y/N."

"Uh," Jessie cut in with a nervous look. "Zoie," she chided.

"You look at the same ones all the time," Zoie added innocently, clearly thinking she was helping.

Your eyes snapped over to Jessie and she clawed at the back of her neck anxiously while she stumbled over her words and face grew pink.

Your heart fluttered at the concept - not that you should want it. So she did miss you.

"I don't need a picture, Zoie," she said with a slight edge while she laughed awkwardly and tried to give a dismissive shake of her head.

"Well can she come with us to the park?" Zoie went on. She turned to you. "We can go on the swings together. I can go really high now."

Jessie let out an exasperated breath and shot you a look, muttering, "I'm so sorry."

"Honey," she said a bit more firmly, drawing the girl's focus, "Y/N is busy. She has her own things she needs to do today. That's very nice of you to invite her, but she probably has to go."

"I thought you missed her," Zoie protested in confusion.

"Zoie," Jessie said curtly, a stern frown on her face before softening, eyes nearly pleading. "Enough, please."

The conflicting jumble of emotions was back. You silently observed the two before you - Zoie confused and disappointed and Jessie suddenly looking so vulnerable and exposed.

You turned to Jessie, it plain how much she was struggling to meet your gaze in this moment. You tried to gauge her.

"Don't feel obliged to stay. Seriously," Jessie whispered, as though Zoie couldn't hear. She shifted restlessly and cleared her throat before adding, "But if you want to, you're of course welcome."

It felt like you could hear a high-pitched ringing in your head as you processed what to do. It was obvious what you should do. You had errands to run. Things to do. An ex and her daughter to forget.

"I-I could stay for a bit," you said.

'A bit' turned into 'a while', which somehow turned into the full afternoon.

It felt like you were having an out of body experience. Every time there was an opportunity to leave, someone said or did something that extended your stay.

And hanging out alone with Zoie and Jessie felt different. There were pockets of it before the breakup, but not quite like this. It felt so strange - like some weird time skip or an alternate reality. Where the bulk of the heaviness and drama of the past had mercifully - temporarily - been swept under the rug.

A very unsettling feeling was emerging and you refused to put a label on it because it felt something akin to 'normal'.

There was nothing normal about this.

And as much as you were enjoying living in this bubble you'd created for the day - a joy you'd pay for later, you were sure - you still knew enough to know that it wasn't real. Sara still existed. You had to remind yourself this wasn't your family. You shouldn't be lulled into thinking you weren't a third wheel.

As the sun began to set, so did this fantasy world.

"Guess we better get you to bed soon, hey kiddo?" Jessie said with a heavy sigh of regret as she glanced at the horizon. "It's been a big day."

"I'm not tired," Zoie protested as she now hugged herself against the back of your leg and peeked out from behind you at Jessie with a pout.

"Honey, it's been a very long day," Jessie spoke patiently as she set her hands on her hips and looked at her daughter. It really was so endearing seeing her interact with Zoie. "We still need to get home and you need a bath. You're more tired than you think. I promise."

"I'm having fun though," she pouted further and you felt her little hands clutch your leg tighter.

"Zo, this isn't a debate. You need to go to bed soon. We're eating into storytime," Jessie said.

"Well can Y/N come home with us?"

Jessie reddened and flashed you a look of apprehension.

"No. Sorry sweetie. That's not possible."

"Why not? It's her place too, right? You said she lived there," Zoie whined.

Jessie shot you an apologetic look.

"Not anymore, Zo," she said with thinning patience. "She's got her own place." You looked down as Zoie tucked her head into you with a pouting expression. Your attention was drawn back up at the weary sigh Jessie didn't fully stamp out. "We've talked about this," she emphasized in a measured tone.

"What about a sleepover sometime?" Zoie asked anew. "You know, like I do."

"Zo," Jessie said with growing sternness. She went on, gentle, but firm. "Come on. It's time to go."

You could probably help soothe Zoie by promising to have another day like this. That you'd see her soon. Sure - a sleepover sometime. But you didn't want to make a promise, especially to her, that you wouldn't keep.

Suddenly, Zoie began crying, her hands digging into your leg more as she clutched you. Panic overtook you as you glanced down to see tears already forming at the corner of her eyes and her face growing bright red. You looked back up to Jessie who gave you a panicked, but sheepish look of her own.

She knelt down in front of Zoie and went to gently grasp her arm, but the little girl wailed harder.

Your senses were overwhelmed as Zoie's cries filled your ears and Jessie tried to calm her down while you stood there stiffly.

A bystander. You felt like a bystander all over again, just observing a world of activity around you.

Until, you found yourself placing your hand softly on the back of Zoie's head and delicately extricating yourself from her iron grip to kneel in front of her.

The action immediately drew her attention and she looked at you, silent tears still streaming down her cheeks while she sniffled. You took your hair out of your ponytail, revealing your hair tie to her.

"Zoie, this is my lucky hair tie. It's very special. Whenever I'm upset or sad, it makes me feel better. And guess what? I want you to have it. You don't have to wear it in your hair, you can wear it around your wrist - like this, see?" You gently placed it on her wrist, her eyes watching you intently and her tears slowed. "Like a little hug for your wrist," you smiled.

"And even though I can't have a sleepover with you, you can have this and it's like I'm there in a way," you said. "And your mama is right, it's been a big day, even I'm tired. But you know what, I bet you're going to have such a good sleep and such great dreams tonight. Make sure to tell your mama all about them when you wake up - I always loved telling my mom about my dreams."

Zoie's shoulders bounced as she hiccupped, working through the last of her upset. She nodded at you.

"Sweet girl," you said as you kissed her cheek.

Only when you pulled back did you realize how Jessie was watching you. Your eyes flicked towards her and she averted her gaze automatically before looking back at you with an expression that made you feel like she was looking right into you. You almost couldn't hold her gaze it was so intense and made you feel so vulnerable.

You found reprieve when she seemed to snap out of her thoughts and offered you a subtle smile of appreciation.

"Sorry about that," she said quietly to you as she wrapped her arms around Zoie and picked her up. "She's tired."

"Not to worry," you dismissed as you stood to face them both, Zoie's eyes now heavy as she leaned her head against Jessie's. You smiled as your eyes fell to Zoie gripping your hair tie with her opposite hand.

"I," Jessie paused briefly and released a breathy laugh, "really didn't mean to take up your whole day. I, um." She stopped, again offering you a small smile, "Zoie had a great time. As you can see," she chuckled. "Thanks."

"Yeah, don't mention it," you said as your gaze fell to the ground and you idly began to dig the toe of your shoe into it. The tension that had been lurking beneath the surface all day began to bubble over. "Sorry I took over your whole day."

Jessie frowned at you and gave a disbelieving laugh. "What are you talking about?" She shook her head. "There's nothing to apologize for."

You looked at her and suddenly you felt dormant emotions rising up and threatening to make your eyes sting with tears.

"You guys seem happy," you tried to say very matter-of-fact, but instead your voice was soft. "I'm really glad."

You meant it.

She was quiet for several moments and eventually gave you another close-lipped smile. She spoke in a tone similar to yours. "It was really nice spending the day with you."

"Yeah," you breathed, hating how sad you sounded even though you'd forced a smile and a laugh. You scratched the back of your arm. "Okay, well, I better go. And you should too. You two get home safe."

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from Jessie's. You looked to Zoie who was basically asleep already. "Tell her 'sweet dreams' for me," you said with a soft laugh. Jessie chuckled and turned her head slightly to catch a glimpse of Zoie without fully waking her.

"She is out," she whispered in exaggeration.

You had an overwhelming urge to give Jessie a kiss on the cheek to say 'goodbye'. The moment was so bittersweet.

"Well, I guess you better get her home. Take care."

"Yeah," Jessie accepted as she held you steady in her gaze. "You too."

--------

By the time you got back to your car, your heart was still pounding. Add the ticket you found on your windshield and you couldn't help but feel like you were being punished for being so weak.

You got in and hung your head heavy in your hands.

What were you doing? You just undid weeks of progress. A frustrated sigh escaped you. What the fuck were you thinking.

The tears you'd fought off earlier sprang to life and you blinked through them.

Jessie and Zoie really did seem happy. And you didn't begrudge them that at all.

Custody sorted. Dance classes. School. Soccer. Jessie seemed - settled. Her life was moving on - with or without you - as it should've.

What about you? You turned a sharp, scrutinizing eye on your own life. Indignation and self-reproach surged through your veins.

You'd been coasting. Barely keeping your head above water. So woefully preoccupied with thoughts of Jessie and the life you'd had together.

You saw her today and immediately fell back to her side. Sara was absent so you slotted yourself in as if you belonged.

What the fuck, Y/N.

You blew out a harsh breath and pulled out your phone.

What was that dating app [y/friend] kept telling you to download? Right.

You looked it up, finger hovering over your screen for a second before banishing your hesitation and downloading it.

Jessie wasn't the only girl out there. You've been acting like she was and clearly your efforts to forget her had painfully lacklustre results.

You'd been holding on. Clutching tightly onto the threads of your old life; afraid to look at a new future for yourself.

You had to move on. You were going to make sure of it.

-----

A/N: Don't be too mad at me! lol.

Tag requests: @marvelwomen-simp @valuyhh

[premiumbitch]

۶ৎ DYNAMIC DUO: THE ULTIMATE FRIENDSHIP TO SCRIPT OR MANIFEST ˙⋆.˚

☆ A DUO THAT FEELS LIKE FATE ☆

Some people stumble into friendships, but you two? You were always meant to find each other. It wasn’t just luck—it was like the universe took one look at you both and said, Yeah, these two? They need to meet. And from that moment on, everything clicked.

You didn’t just become friends—you became a force. A unit. A perfect balance of chaos and control, strategy and spontaneity. One of you lays the groundwork, the other takes it and runs. One of you starts the fire, the other keeps it burning. Together, you’re sharper, funnier, and somehow even more dangerous.

People don’t just notice when you enter a room together—they feel it.

☆ THE ART OF BEING IN SYNC ☆

You’ve got that rare kind of connection where words aren’t always necessary. A glance? That’s a full conversation. A raised eyebrow? That’s an entire game plan. You could be on opposite sides of a crowded room, and with a single look, you both just know.

And when you do speak? It’s effortless. The timing, the flow—perfect. Your conversations feel like a script that was written for you both, except no one else could ever deliver the lines right. People try to keep up, to follow the rhythm, but they always fall behind. Because the thing is, your friendship isn’t just understood—it’s felt.

☆ INSIDE JOKES & YOUR LANGUAGE ☆

There are jokes that only exist between you two, and honestly, they wouldn’t even be funny to anyone else. It’s not just the joke itself—it’s the history behind it, the layers, the way it started from something small and became this running gag that neither of you will ever let die.

You could be sitting in dead silence, and all it takes is one memory—one barely noticeable thing—and suddenly, you’re both trying not to laugh. Everyone else? Clueless.

But that’s the best part. Because some things don’t need to be shared.

☆ LOYALTY LIKE NO OTHER ☆

There’s a difference between friends and allies. Friends are nice to have. Allies? They’re essential. And you two? You’re allies.

You don’t betray, you don’t compete, you don’t entertain drama. If one of you succeeds, the other is already paving the way for more. If one of you is struggling, the other is already fixing the problem before they even ask. There’s no need to question loyalty when it’s absolute.

And if someone has an issue with one of you, now they have to deal with both of you. You guys stick together like 'if they hate you, I hate them.' / 'if you hate them, I do too.'

☆ THE KEY TRAITS THAT MAKE YOU A DUO ☆

It’s the small things that set you apart—the things that, over time, became second nature:

A signature handshake no one else can get right.

A way of getting out of awkward situations together without a single word.

A code word that means we’re leaving, now.

The fact that people can’t mention one of you without the other coming up in the same sentence.

That one thing you both do—maybe it’s finishing each other’s sentences, or instinctively mirroring each other’s movements, or just having a presence that feels incomplete when the other isn’t there.

You didn’t plan on having a reputation as a duo so iconic. It just happened.

☆ THE LEGACY ☆

Some pairs just fit. It’s in the way your styles always unintentionally complement each other. The way you carry yourselves—like you know something everyone else doesn’t. The way you seem to move through the world a little differently than everyone else.

Maybe it’s how, without meaning to, you’ve created a presence that lingers. Maybe it’s how people talk about you even when you’re not around, how they tell stories about you like you’re characters in a novel, like they wish they had something that effortless.

Years from now, people will still remember.

Because there are plenty of friendships, but real duos? They’re rare. And you two? You’re unforgettable.

[hotchnersangel]

Hi Hi! So i saw few of your Aaron fics were based off of songs and Ive wanted an I can see you by taylor swift fic for him for so long.

Specifically the, “I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note, saying meet me tonight.”

ITS JUST SO HOTCH CODEDD

okayyy thanks queen😋

I CAN SEE YOU

Aaron Hotchner

A/n: omg this is my first request so im screaming and kicking my feet right now, i hope i do you justice my love!!!!!!!!! ps, I LOVE TAYLOR AND THIS WAS MY SURPRISE SONG!

cw: implications of sex, dadbod!hotch, pining, kinda objectifying hotch but goddamn hes so hot, bau!reader probably some more but i cant think xxx

Finding your person was never as easy as it came across, in fact, you had a chronic fear that maybe that day would never come. The overriding question of if someone would ever be able to see you so deeply, so intimately and trace your being so intricately with nothing but the kiss of their heart. That was until Aaron Hotchner stood under a strobe light and shon a lifeline when you were in complete darkness, consumed by the ache of your despair.

The relationship between the two of you was… well, flummox. Especially recently; Aaron had become more comfortable around you and it was visible to a watchful eye if you studied every intricacy and atom of his being, which you did. Though, he never let his poker face fall in-front of the rest of the BAU. He was incredibly skilled at the art of deception, which made his yearning of desire towards you that much easier to conceal.

The feeling of his shoulder brushing past yours in the hallway sends one thousand hot electric bolts through your body causing a full body reaction to his touch. Your cheeks mirror a gentle shade of rose as you duck your head down, suddenly finding appeal in the stone flooring. Despite what feel’s like your obvious flirting, Aaron isn’t sure if his feelings were reciprocated. There was certainly a tension between the two of you, but of what nature led you to disclose such information. Was it simply lust, was it… friendship? Was it loneliness? Or simply, was it love?

The feeling that you get when he is near you sends goosebumps down your spine. The way your smile brightens just wide enough for it to not hurt when you smile when he is near, or when he cracks a joke which was awfully rare nowadays, though when it happens you feel a warm and fuzzy sensation inside your belly. He makes you feel a sort of creeping sensation… like something is crawling across your chest, maybe a feeling of a fly or nat, but no- realisation kicks in and you are simply faced with the love-bug.

He similarly feels an alike reception of feelings towards you, though verbally he fears he cannot communicate them with you in fear of getting a reply. He tried for so long to deny his feelings, deny deny deny that you even existed in a romantic sense- but everything he ever did led back to you. No matter how many times he ‘picked up’ a girl in a bar, how many times he was goggled by women around him, no matter how many times he found different ways to infiltrate you out of his mind, it would always run back to you.

You are currently sat at your desk, gazing at Aaron Hotchner as he is sat on his desk, filling out paperwork. The way his eyes skim the page so tentatively makes you wonder what they would feel like when they landed on you for a long duration of time… maybe in a scenario where you were alone in the tension between you- with nothing left to yearn upon apart from the worshipping of one anothers bodies. What would he do, if you went to touch him now? God, it’s all you could think about. The feeling of running your hands across his broad chest and big big arms. Those huge, delicious arms.

You can imagine the way his hands could hold you trapped to the wall while his body boxes you in until you have no option but to submit to him. Your eyes catch his as his gaze wanders away from his case files and back onto you. The feeling of drunken giddy fills both of your stomachs as you narrow your eyes daringly at him, a small smirk lifting the left side of his face. His eyebrow perches upwards as he inspects you, like he was reading every invasive thought going through your head and in return… he retaliates with similar thoughts. The way he could caress your body and how the small gesture could make him want you even more, which he never deemed as possible.

He wished you knew how you made him feel, how your cheeks may flush a little more deeper at the confession that he could see you. Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you smile, what each micro-expression of your face meant, what your movements implied about your mood, what you need in each and every moment. He saw everything. He saw you.

You see him walk out of his office, his very large and veiny hand holding a stack of files that would take you two to carry. He walks down each step like he was entitled to the world, like the sight of him in his suit and his necktie wasn’t driving you insane.

You couldn’t help but goggle at the sight of him. He always looked… beautiful but today, well today he looked scrumptious. Like he was sculpted by the greek gods and dressed in robes fit for roman emperors- with a little more coverage, unfortunately. The way his black suit hugged his bulky arms and larger waist made your mouth water. The quick glance over his neck tie was enough to send your mind spiralling into where else that could be used. Tying your hands together maybe? Please.

He walks up to your desk, stopping besides you, arguably closer than he should have. His knee was brushed against yours as you looked up at him through your lashes, your innocent eyes hiding the most hideously devilish thoughts of what you want to do to the man in-front of you.

“Your caseload.” He puts simply, placing the folder down in-front of you. Can he hear the way your heart is racing in your chest? Because you start to contemplate if you’re going through a severe heart condition like AF with this irregular pattern.

“Thanks.” You smile up at him, which he catches and nods in return.

“Oh,” he pauses as he turns to walk away, looking back in your direction and moving his hand on top of yours, the touch unraveling a relentless fire spreading wildly through your body- guiding your hand towards the file.

“Have a thorough read on page 3, there is some serious information.” He singles into you eyes, making the world around you spin. You nod, losing your words as you watch his lean figure clamber up the steps and return to his office.

You open the file, starting on page three- your eyes greeted by a small note written in his cursive hatching. ‘Meet me tonight.’

You stomach flips and suddenly, the rest of the day seems to fall into an extremely long and painful blur, over and over, constant reminders that you had to wait, had to restrain yourself to not climb onto hid body like a child in a wild play. Instead, you stayed composed for the rest of the day until the inevitable time occured and suddenly you wished it was a few hours ago, again.

You swallowed your nerves and followed him subtly out of the building, until he opened his car door allowing you to take a seat before heading to the drivers side. When he does, he looks over to you intently and smirks.

“You can follow my orders?” He speaks with a decided tone of smugness.

“When you have orders I agree with, yeah.” You shoot back, looking at him through your naturally glassy eyes. Your lips softly plumped with the lipstick combination defining them. Which, drove Aaron crazy. The urge to smother his body with your lipstick felt overwhelming but he simply just sat and stared.

“Fuck, I can’t do this any longer.” He sighs and looks at you intensely, his eyes singling onto you with intent.

“Do me instead.” You shrug casually and he lets out a strong sigh, moving forwards until his forehead rests against yours. A deep, breathy sigh escaping from his lips as his hand moves to cup your cheeks.

“Say the word and I will step back and let you out of the car.”

“You clearly aren’t very good at your job if you think that I don’t want this, Mr Unit Chief.” You tease him with a playful grin.

He tilts his head at you, hitting an angle that excites you deeply. The sight before you simply knocking you off your feet. Taking your breath away. All the clichè’s.

“I know you want this,” he repeats and finally attaches his lips to yours. Your body moving into a panicked state, flushed with excitement, nervousness, anticipation and lust. A soft shudder attacking your nervous system sending your body into overdrive, making you wonder if this is a dream or not. But, as you feel Aaron pull away, your lip between his teeth.

He looks at you and says, “I can see you, baby.”

And suddenly, the world around you stopped and the silence carried the passion between you and Aaron Hotchner.

[holyguardian]

Being draped by that extra layer of warmth was an immediate comfort that Aerith relaxed into. She gently pulled the thick wool closer — it was obvious she wasn't wearing an 'appropriate' dress for a Princess. But with the added layer, she looked barely any different to the female servants, or even some of the soldiers themselves when they weren't dressed for a battle, wearing more simple layers.

There was something she liked about not standing out. It was how normal must have felt like, she imagined.

Though Somnus didn't leave it at just that. He took up her hands, kissed her knuckles sweetly, and led her so gently to the balcony. Her smile was growing with each new step, especially when he twirled her close.

His hold was almost becoming familiar. Though it was still tinged by new-excitement, a feeling she selfishly hoped would never fade. "A-hah. The Princess will have to remember this is about relaxing and fun..." No, she wasn't that nervous. Queen's Blood just brought out something more competitive and passionate in her...

A feeling that almost compared to her husband's confidence. The way Somnus simply stepped up onto the balcony railing and leapt... he had no idea, how she wished she could have done that too. He sent them soaring over the wall and smoothly landed outside the barracks. She could have sworn he must have taken that path before, given how smoothly he guided them.

Blinking, Aerith found herself stepping a little closer to his side, one hand in his and the other touching at his arm.

She had been in the barracks before. Though that had been more official, in a way. Her father had taken her, in daylight hours of course, when there had been notice of her visiting... of course, that had been in the name of Queen's Blood too. It felt strange to visit so quietly in the dark of night now for the very same thing.

"... that was kind of you, to not use your friend against us in our kingdoms debates." she lightly teased, looking to him with a smile and a tip of her head. "I'll try to help you look." It was the best she could promise. She would probably get in the way a little, asking if this or that person was his friend, like some puzzle game.

There wasn't a deep silence as they entered. This wasn't an announced visit, and the soldiers weren't ones to turn and look at every soul that walked on in, maybe a few glanced, and fewer still nudged nearby others with widened eyes. But overall everything remained bustling with activity.

New introductions had been forged into new friendships already. For all the preparations for war, there was still room enough for a welcomed good night.

There were a few familiar faces to Aerith too. She didn't make a move to draw any attention to herself, but she did give a coy wave with her fingers wiggling when she spied Barret who looked ready to holler for her. Thankfully he chose his beauty sleep over chasing a damned Princess down.

It wasn't long before Aerith caught a glimpse of someone who kind of matched the description. She looked from the man, to Somnus, and to the man again who saw them both. He stood up with a wide, warm grin, and his arms opened in welcome. This had to be him.

"Look at what the chocobo dragged in. I'm sorry, I'm good with faces not with names. I feel like I have seen you before, Prince Someone?" Leander teased at his friend relentlessly, it had been a long time since they last spoke like this. He turned to Aerith, regarding her like any other person. "His mother tried to raise him well but he's stubborn. It's a pleasure to meet you, definitely-not-Princess-Aerith."

His mischief was mirrored by her. Another thing he so much enjoyed about Aerith. Expectations on them were high. And if she were more strict, more aligned with that prim and proper image of a Princess… he would be the same. They both had been raised in the public eye and learning the courts# very narrow rules by heart. And yet… to have her so simply join in this game of disobedience with him… it was still such a relief.

He had ended up with the perfect wife after all.

Proof of that was the growing grin on his face. She challenged him subtly. And he joined right away, stepping around her and pulling two of the thicker woollen cloths from the cupboard. One he slung around his own shoulders, while the other he laid over Aerith’s, all while stepping around her in a circle.

It was cold after all. At least in his perception. These lands would test him, he knew it.

His hand grasped hers, leaving a kiss on her knuckles as he bowed and started to pull her with him, towards this oh-so-fabled balcony.

“What a coincidence.”, he mused, “That really would be such a mystery if that happened. If the princess would have a relaxed and fun evening among those she will rule one day.”

It was like a small dance, twirling her close to him again. She knew this by now. This was not their first leap. And yet it was all the same fun once more. His warping causing the cold air turn into winds that whipped at their hair and clothes.

Launching over the wall… it was a new impression to Somnus, too. He never had been here. His eyes quickly darting over the grounds, looking for a good spot to target and warp to, as gravity slowly pulled them down again. One of the barracks. The plain wall. His sword lodged there, and they landed there a second later – Somnus slowly uncurling his arm and letting Aerith down to the ground gently.

Most barracks were still bright with flickering torches and fires. There was talking and laughter, some even had some singing and clapping going on, as smells of different drinks and food still lingered in the air. The Lucian soldiers obviously were greeted generously by the farmland soldiers. They got along mostly, as it seemed.

Smiling, Somnus offered his hand to Aerith. He knew this must be new to her. To him it was an ordinary occurrence. He had spent many evenings with his soldiers. To her, this was probably a first in breaking the bars of her gilded cage.

“Come… we will have to search a bit. But as I know my friend, he would opt for one of the barracks against the wall. He loves the little chaos of these evenings going on here, but he also values a good sleep and quiet at night. Black short hair, tan skin, warm brown eyes and a smile that could win over other kingdoms in debates.”

[ihatedtoadmit]

Too much

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: angst, comfort

warnings: self-hatred

word count: ~2.6k

summary: Loneliness is a silent killer, although when you notice its presence, you almost run into its blade willingly, had it not been for Chan to save you from yourself.

a/n: I know. Chan again. I apologise but he is my comfort place, in a sense.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

It was supposed to be a normal day, like any other, yet the weight in my chest only proved me wrong. It settled over me like a veil–, no, like chains, dragging me down to the bottom of the sea. Darkness enveloped me now, both in mind and in body, form hidden beneath the thick layer of my blanket. Even its fuzzy texture and soft fibres couldn’t comfort me, something I had thought impossible before.

Now, it was my reality.

I had woken up like usual, left alone in the shared apartment of my significant other. He worked hard, far harder than anyone I’d ever known, passionate about his job to a degree I could only ever hope to understand. My own work was remote, not needing me to leave the house much, if at all. Still, that had never stopped him from leaving me a message on my phone, always leading to us chatting until he got back home.

Until those messages had turned more and more sparse, comeback season having kept him understandably busy. It had always been a stressful season for him and the entire team, a fact I understood without a doubt.

Yet, on this particular day, a realisation had dawned on me: I relied on him too much.

For so long – practically between comeback seasons – we spent our days together, may that be through phone or not. And as he now worked away in his studio, far too busy to check my message, I’d realised how empty I felt. How my days were spent waiting for a notification, my heart caring too much about one person.

Talking with others didn’t feel the same, or at least those who understood me to a similar degree to him were just as busy, if somehow not more. I’d become isolated in this place, a prison of my own doing.

How I despised my heart for choosing who to trust the most, who to run to for attention when possible, like a touch-starved dog begging for headpats.

It was what had driven me beneath my blanket, curled up until my joints shifted and bones creaked, entirely too weakly body groaning in protest. I understood why it was screaming at me as it was I who had decided to lay there for hours, unmoving, on the verge of tears yet not quite letting them fall. Every single time my thoughts took a turn and over-analysed another interaction with someone, with him, my eyes turned glossy, imprisoning those crystalline droplets like my thoughts had imprisoned me.

I couldn’t believe how clingy I had become, how deeply it was embedded into my nature despite my endless tries to get rid of it, ever since I was a child. No human being could ever possibly give me this much of their attention, no matter how they said it was fine, as it was physically impossible.

I’d been hurt by those promises too much in the past to believe them again.

Yet, even now, I kept listening, breath stilling just so I could hear the soft buzzing of my phone: the telltale sign of a notification. None came, however, and I was left only feeling worse, like a leech that had somehow managed to deceive those around it. They hadn’t signed up for someone like me upon the beginning of our friendships; nobody would have expected to suddenly get a friend who needed attention practically all day and week.

My body shivered and I only curled up tighter, the day now gone with me having done nothing at all. No chores, no hobbies, nothing. I was lucky enough to have had today off work-wise, although perhaps it would have taken my mind off of this thing.

I wasn’t sure, although I would have had this realisation sooner or later anyway.

The lock turned and I froze, body straining to check my phone for a time. The sudden light blinded me and yet I powered through it, burning eyes confirming my suspicions: it was far too early for Chan to be home.

His steps had already halted somewhere in the living room, voice laced with worry as he called out to me. It was enough for me to know that I would be caught had I gone out to greet him, nowhere near a state stable enough to pretend I was fine. My glossy eyes only watered more from having checked my phone, sensitive to the bright light after being in the darkness for so long.

The door slowly creaked open and light poured in from behind me, yet I remained still, hoping he’d think I was asleep. It was strange enough I hadn’t greeted him back, tall form laden with comfy clothes and waddling out to greet him with an all-encompassing hug.

Now he only got a small lump under a blanket, still and unresponsive.

His voice was quiet as he called out to me again, gentle, as if speaking any louder would shatter me. The hand that now caressed my shoulder was equally gentle, if not more, careful to not put any pressure on me. Despite that I didn’t move, mindful of my breathing and keeping it steady.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Apparently I was much too late to pretend I was fine, easy to read like an open book.

“Are you having a bad day mentally, or physically?” – he tried again, that beautiful voice even more tender, just for my sake.

I shifted then, curling up even tighter, if possible, yet it wasn’t enough to break the connection we had. Chan’s hand remained firm on my shoulder, as if it was written in the fabric of reality to be so.

“How did you know?” – my voice was small, too small, yet he didn’t comment on it. “You only ever do this when something’s wrong. Besides, this is your comfort blanket, love. You use it when you want to feel cosy and whenever you’re in need of a hug. Don’t shut me out, please? We’ve talked about this. Let me hug you, let me take care of you.”

His words were met with silence, although my lower lip was trembling as the coil within my chest was wound too tight now. He didn’t see it, of course not, it was physically impossible. I’d positioned myself to not be seen, ashamed of myself and who I’d become, who I truly was.

The hold on my shoulder tightened ever so slightly, worry no doubt coursing through Chan’s veins at my lack of response. It was extremely rare for one of us to do this, to go completely silent; we’d laid down some rules in our relationship long ago, just so there wouldn’t be any hurt feelings over misunderstandings. But I couldn’t speak now.

Not when doing so would break the dam inside my heart, letting everything ugly I’d kept inside spill out and taint this wonderful person.

Chan didn’t speak again as he instead let his actions do all the talking, the bed dipping behind me as he laid down. I wasn’t engulfed and I wasn’t moved; he simply had that hand on my arm now, thumb going back and forth in a comforting motion I didn’t deserve. He didn’t know how it only made me feel worse, to receive comfort when I was the one supposed to be giving it.

To be so weak and dependent on someone who was already dealing with too many things, it disgusted me.

I disgusted myself.

I wasn’t sure how long we had remained like that, just him quietly laying behind me as I fought against my tears. Eventually I failed, the droplets spilling forth and leaving behind glistening trails on my skin. A soft sniffle escaped me without my consent, causing the hold on my arm to tighten, yet Chan never pressed for a response or explanation.

He knew it wouldn’t work, knew it would only cause me to shut myself off.

Instead the sheets rustled as I moved sluggishly, limbs aching and joints popping. I could already see the grimace on his face at the sounds, knowing not all were natural but due to the state of my withering body. No matter, it wasn’t important right now.

“Channie, be honest. Am I too much?”

I watched as his expression shifted, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. He probably didn’t expect such a question without warning, although to me, its presence made complete sense. This gaping emptiness in my chest perhaps hadn’t formed today, but I finally noticed it and things couldn’t stay the same. Not anymore.

I couldn’t keep being this dependent on a few people, on him all alone.

“What? Where did you even get this idea? Of course you’re not. You’re my baby, my love, my everything. Did someone comment something like this again?” – his voice was rushed, firm, as if in a race to reassure me.

I shook my head, denying his claims.

“Then what happened? Where did you get that stupid idea from?”

My eyes momentarily closed as his hand slid up to my face, wiping a few tears away, only to have more in their wake. He didn’t stop though and instead lingered there, the missed warmth of his hand slowing the droplets’ descent.

“I just realised some things now that you’re busy. Nobody said anything to me.”

Those warm orbs twisted at my words, turning darker and pained. Both his hands held my face now and with so much affection I felt like I was robbing the man, feeling a twist in my stomach at just how worried he seemed now.

“And what did you realise?” – his voice was smaller this time, as if afraid to ask, to know.

A deep inhale expanded my chest forcefully, yet once again not enough to sever our bond. His hands remained firmly in place, thumbs catching my ever-falling tears, causing my chest to tighten impossibly more. The ends of my lips dipped the moment I could feel the dam cracking within my heart, within my soul, disgusting tar and sewage leaking out through the thin openings.

And he stood at its foot, arms open, ready to let it wash over him.

“How can you tolerate me? I yap and whine a lot, even when I know you’re busy and stressed. Even now, I should be the one comforting you and yet here I am, breaking down, again. This isn’t fair towards you, to have someone so demanding as me as your partner. Or as someone in your life in general. I’m clingy and can easily overthink things, needing constant reassurance that nobody has the fucking time or energy to give. Of course they don’t, it’s physically impossible, so why? Why do you look at me like this, as if seeing me in pain hurts you?” – my voice died near the end, cracking from the unbearable weight of my emotions.

Chan didn’t hesitate.

Steady arms pulled me close and buried me into his chest, as if he was openly offering the place for me to live. His heart beat strongly in its cage, and I didn’t doubt that he would have scooted it away just to give me space there. It was such a Chan thing to do, to give without needing anything back and it only drove that self-inflicted knife deeper into my own chest.

“That’s not true. Maybe you don’t believe me right now, but none of what you said is true.”

His hold on me only tightened as he muttered those words into my hair, holding me so tight it felt as if he thought I would disappear otherwise.

“First of all, you take care of me plenty, my love. You always check in on me, leave me something each day to enjoy. Sometimes it’s a small note with a doodle and a short, but sweet message on it, other times it’s some cookies I can take in and eat with the boys. Just the other night you held me like this, lulling me to sleep with your gentle touches and humming.”

A violent sob tore itself out of me at that, two sides of my mind warring against each other. One wanted to believe Chan’s words, that I had some worth and wasn’t just some greedy bastard, while the other was incapable of accepting such things. They fought against each other in a violent battle, rendering me a sobbing mess in someone’s arms who I didn’t even think I was deserving of.

Yet, Chan’s arms remained around me, as if saying ‘You do deserve it’.

“Secondly, you always do your best to respect my space out of your own volition. I’ve never had to ask for it, because whenever you know I’m at work or stressed, you keep to yourself a bit. Only when I replied or I’m obviously free do you bombard me with messages or cutely start rambling about a new hyperfixation of yours. And I love it when you do that. I love seeing you be so excited about something that you nearly burst at the seams, and even be more excited to tell me about it.” – his voice was tender, so sure in itself even in its wavering state.

I didn’t react, overwhelmed by the emotions wrecking my body from the inside, despicable and ugly.

Yet, he still loved me like this, and I couldn’t understand how.

“You’ve never been too much, love. It’s okay to feel lonely at times, to feel more comfortable with certain people than others. That’s why I and your closest friends are here, and I’m sure they’d say the same. We love you both when you’re quiet and more reserved, and when you can barely contain your excitement over wanting to share something.”

A hiccup escaped me at that, and I just knew I’d tainted his t-shirt, terribly so.

“But you’re busy and stressed, and also have to take care of the boys besides yourself. I don’t—I don’t want to add onto that by being clingy. I hate that I feel the need to do so.” “You wouldn’t, my love. Never. But to make you feel better, how about I’ll put my phone on don’t disturb when I’m busy, hm? Then you can message me whenever you want, and when I’m free, I’ll reply shortly. Would that make you feel better?”

I nodded into his shirt, although that solution was a mere bandage to an open wound. Blood kept gushing from it as the plaster could do nothing against its force, only time and self-reflection able to heal it, if anything.

My knuckles turned white from the force I held onto him, greedily basking in his warmth despite knowing I shouldn’t.

“Please don’t ever keep it in if you ever feel like this again. I’m always there for you, my love, always. And you should know by now, silly,” – his voice gained a certain lightness to it, desperately hoping to lift this heavy atmosphere in the room – “I love nothing more than taking care of the boys, taking care of you. It’s what drives me to be better, to always be there for you in case of anything.”

His lips pressed into the crown of my head, sending warmth gently crawling down my spine, easing the knots in my stomach and the tense state of my muscles.

“You give so much yet ask for nothing, deriving yourself of even your basic needs.” “Perhaps that’s why Seungminnie said you’re dating a version of yourself.”

A chuckle blossomed in Chan’s chest at that, brief but sincere all the same. I smiled at the sound, unable to keep it in when it was one of my favourites.

“Can we stay like this for a little bit longer?” “Always, my love. Always.”

[hivemuthur]

Tightrope - Ch.2.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!, frenemies/academic rivals to lovers, modern university AU. This is part of a request for @pxszels

Ch.1. | Ch.3.

word count: 5,4K

tag: #tightrope

summary: You and Viktor are tethering the line between friendship and rivalry, Jayce being one amongst the few common factors you both acknowledge (of course more is there but for the smart people you are, you tend to be very stupid about things). Oh, and you have to do a project together.

author's note: okay, things escalate, all I'm gonna say :v Very dubious science warning and thank you @rennethen for beta reading!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

A lot of intrusive thoughts clatter through your mind as you glare pure death at Viktor, sitting two chairs away from you. Jayce—a buffer that protects the both of you from yourselves.

Strangulation is the first, most obvious one, but it dangerously quickly turns into something borderline erotic when you watch Viktor’s neck. And you really stare at it—the sharp angle of his jaw turning into the smooth column, porcelain skin interrupted with freckles, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he speaks out his infuriating truths. Ugh, since when is this happening?

The second, also obvious, is electrocuting him—just successfully this time. But then again, an unbidden image breaks into your mind’s eye: Viktor’s startled expression, his hand clutched to his heaving chest, hair tousled from the electric current, cheeks a bit flushed under your palms cradling them.

The heat on your own face almost betrays you, but fortunately, the picture of Viktor’s mouth saying I could make you gag gives you a comfortable explanation for the roses blooming across your cheeks—you are just really, really pissed.

You’ve been at each other’s throats for over a week now, and each encounter has been a small battle to win. So far, as expected, it’s a tie, but you are determined to stomp his head into the ground, his ear in your teeth.

You’ve just sat through Viktor’s answer to Heimerdinger’s conundrum:

"Given the choice between a platinum-based catalyst and an experimental cobalt-nickel alloy for an industrial hydrogenation reaction, which would be the superior option in terms of efficiency and long-term viability?"

"If the goal is efficiency, the answer is already clear," Viktor says in a flat tone, and you almost break your pencil. You parrot his voice in your head, your face doing a tiny, mocking expression—one that Jayce immediately counters with puppy eyes.

"Platinum’s catalytic activity remains stable across multiple reaction cycles, and its surface energy allows for consistent molecular interactions," Viktor continues, his posture so unbothered it’s as if he’s already won. "Even if alternative materials show potential, they introduce variables that compromise long-term reliability."

"You're focusing on controlled lab conditions, but industrial applications aren’t perfect systems," you mutter, leaning over your desk and addressing the entire thing to Heimerdinger. "In real-world settings, we need materials that are adaptable, not just reliable in a vacuum."

Your tone becomes more passionate, encouraged by Heimerdinger’s eager nodding. "The alloy has a wider range of operating conditions and costs significantly less—why cling to a metal that’s prohibitively expensive when there’s a viable alternative?"

"You're assuming ‘viable’ just because it works in some conditions," Viktor counters, his voice clipped, clearly irritated. "There’s a difference between potential and actual applicability. Platinum has proven efficiency—your alloy is a gamble."

You huff, leaning forward and turning to face Viktor this time, as Jayce slowly sinks into his chair. "And you're assuming ‘superior’ just because something is well-documented? Science doesn’t advance by relying on what’s already been done. You can’t just dismiss an emerging material because it makes you uncomfortable."

Viktor’s lips curl slightly in that way that always makes you want to throw something at him. "Uncomfortable? No, I simply prefer optimised methods over—what was it—guesswork?"

Your jaw tenses. "Right, because clinging to the safe choice is the height of scientific innovation."

"Optimisation and recklessness are not the same thing," Viktor snaps.

"No, but stagnation and cowardice are pretty damn close."

That’s probably what prompts Heimerdinger to finally step in.

"As fascinating as it is to observe your ongoing academic duel, might I remind you that this is a classroom, not a battleground?"

The words should sting, should make you shrink into your seat, but the bemused glint in his eyes softens the blow. Viktor, ever the picture of self-restraint, merely tips his head, as if the interruption is a minor inconvenience. You, on the other hand, can’t quite suppress the triumphant curve of your lips as you lower yourself back to your seat.

Heimerdinger sighs. "If either of you would like to continue this discussion, I suggest you do so after my lecture."

You don’t quip a single sound throughout the rest of the class, and Viktor doesn’t either. You can feel his eyes on you periodically—or rather, you can see them in the corner of your eye when you try to make it look like all your focus is directed at Heimerdinger’s blackboard.

By the time you get to worrying about how your afternoon project session with Viktor is going to go this time, the class ends, and Joe picks you up for breakfast. A brief reprieve is interrupted by Viktor’s dry, “Don’t be late this time.” But before you can poke his eye out with a pencil, he passes right by you without even sparing a glance.

All that tension dissolves into laughter when Joe makes fun of your miserable crossword choices.

“Aren’t you supposed to be ridiculously smart?” he teases, tapping his finger against the newspaper. “Why the hell did you put 'Beethoven' for ‘Famous deaf baseball player’?”

You groan, snatching the booklet back. “I was in a rush!”

Joe smirks. “The answer is Dummy Hoy, by the way. Actual deaf baseball legend. Try to keep up.”

“Well, excuse me, smartass!” you say, flashing a ludicrous grin as you hurriedly scribble over the letters. “Huh, okay, it does fit. Words are not my strength, what can I say.”

Joe hums, watching you with an easy smirk as he takes a ridiculously large bite of his apple. “What are your strengths, then?” he asks, chewing thoughtfully.

You tap the end of your pencil against your chin. “Huh. Engineering, I suppose. And I’m a pretty okay friend, I’d like to think.”

Joe raises a brow, amused. “A pretty okay friend? I’m not sure I can resist such attractive advertising.”

“Oh, shut up,” you scoff, nudging his arm. “I’ve had some bumps in my record recently.”

Joe’s smirk softens into something more genuine. “As I said—I probably won’t resist.” He leans back, tossing his apple core into a nearby bin with practiced ease. “And speaking of being good friends, since I do aim to become one, I should probably drop you off at the lab?”

Your stomach drops. “Oh, shit, yes. If we want me to live, definitely yes.”

You shove a chocolate bun and all your other things back into your bag and urge Joe to move faster, which prompts him to pry whether the skinny guy glaring daggers at you in front of the classroom can really do any significant damage. He demonstrates a few rugby pacifying moves, which you try to take with a straight face—but you burst out laughing when, just as you reach the lab’s door, he tells you, “Remember the dump tackle.”

And you have no idea where the urge to hold your breath as you enter comes from but releasing it upon seeing that your two favourite buffers—Jayce and Sky—are there to ease any blow coming your way makes you feel somewhat lighter. They sit hunched over their notes, so you only wave hello and approach Viktor, who is leaning over the intricate layout of books and papers splayed across the workbench.

"Glad to see you on time for once," he mutters, not even bothering to spare you a look.

"I tried very hard," you sigh, dropping your heavy bag onto the floor. "For you."

He smiles. Odd. The smile vanishes as quickly as it appears, and Viktor is back to his stuck-up self when he turns and says, in a tone seeping with boredom, "Alright. I rewired the band properly while you were gone. It's time to discuss the possible power supplies."

Properly, huh. "What do you have in mind?"

Viktor straightens, gesturing vaguely to the mess of notes sprawled across the workbench. "A micro thermoelectric generator would be the most efficient choice. Converts body heat into electrical energy—self-sustaining, minimal maintenance, and no reliance on external charging."

You arch a brow. "Efficient, sure. If you ignore the fact that it's highly dependent on temperature gradients. The output fluctuates, and if the user isn't generating enough heat, the power supply suffers. You'd be relying on biological inconsistency."

He hums, noncommittal. "There are ways to stabilise it. A supplementary capacitor—"

"Which introduces another point of failure," you cut in smoothly. "Supercapacitors have high charge cycles, but they degrade. If we're adding redundancy, why not go with something that guarantees a steady output?"

Viktor glances at you, unimpressed. "And what would you propose?"

"A miniaturised kinetic energy harvester." You lean forward, tapping a finger on the notes in front of him. "Energy is gathered through natural movement—walking, gesturing, any kind of physical motion. The output is consistent and doesn’t rely on external conditions."

"Consistent, yes, but also inefficient in comparison." He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. "Kinetic harvesters require constant motion for optimal performance. What happens when the user is sedentary? The energy reservoir drains, and there is no backup supply."

You purse your lips. "Then integrate both. A hybrid system—kinetic as primary, thermoelectric as auxiliary. Movement generates most of the power, and any residual body heat supplements it. Redundancy without overcomplication."

For a moment, Viktor is quiet, his fingers idly tapping against the workbench. Then, almost reluctantly, he gives a small nod. "A reasonable compromise."

You blink. "Did you just agree with me?" Unthinkable. But you do have witnesses.

He exhales sharply, picking up a pencil. "Do not make me regret it."

Before you can fire back, Jayce, having had enough, loudly shuts his notebook and stretches. "Alright, I am starving," he announces, shooting a meaningful glance at Sky. "Lunch?"

Sky, who has been keeping her head down and very obviously pretending not to listen, perks up immediately. "Oh, yeah. Definitely."

Neither of them waits for an answer before standing. Jayce claps you on the shoulder as he passes, his voice overly casual. "Try not to kill each other before we get back."

"Can’t promise anything," you mutter.

Sky just snorts as she follows Jayce out, leaving you alone with Viktor, making the forced civility even a bigger challenge. He writes down your ideas on the board, when a loud growl of your stomach makes him pause.

“Haven’t your himbo—erm, sorry, Joe—fed you properly?”

“Get lost,” you counter stupidly, rummaging through your bag for your safety bun. You tear off a piece with exaggerated nonchalance, throwing Viktor a shit-eating smirk. “He fed my soul.”

Viktor rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Good for you,” he grumbles, turning back toward the board, but you catch the briefest flicker of something—mild annoyance, maybe—as he refocuses on his work.

Viktor taps his fingers against the edge of the workbench, gaze fixed on the equations scrawled across the board. “The issue with the stability of the connection isn’t the materials themselves,” he says, his tone clipped with focus. “It’s the uneven current distribution. If we integrate a secondary regulator—” He gestures to a hastily drawn diagram, circling a particular point with the chalk. “—we can stabilise the output without overhauling the entire circuit.”

You exhale sharply, arms crossed. “That’s just putting a bandage on it.”

“It’s refining, not patching,” Viktor corrects, finally glancing at you. “A full redesign would be unnecessary, and we don’t have the time for it,” he mumbles, less sure of himself and you take a note of his brows furrowing.

You linger on the rebuttal, but ultimately, you step forward, coming to stand beside him. Your eyes scan the board, taking in the schematics, the modifications—annoyingly, frustratingly sound. You rub at your temple and sigh.

“Okay. Okay,” you state firmly, staring at the board. “I will admit the superiority of your idea over mine, because I am decent.”

You turn to Viktor, for once glad to admit defeat with such grace—only to catch him outright staring at you, his eyes almost absent. It usually doesn’t take him that long to formulate a comeback that is supposed to land like a slap but of course bounces off and figuratively flares up on his cheek instead.

No slapping this time, though.

“What are you looking at?”

“You have a—” he says quietly, pointing at the corner of your lip.

Your hand flies to your mouth, wondering how long you’ve been walking around with a chocolate moustache before he noticed. You nag at the spot with your fingers, but Viktor scrunches his eyebrows, looking almost pained when he whines, “God, not here.”

“Well, you showed me there!” It’s ridiculous, but you actually laugh, still trying to blindly locate whatever food dirt clings to your mouth after eating that cursed bun.

“Ah, damn, not here—here!” Obviously, you’re doing a poor job because Viktor huffs, half-annoyed, his lips turning into a pitying smile. “Ah, just—” He sighs, exasperated, then finally—oh.

He licks his thumb, stills you with a hand on your shoulder, and leans in. “Let me,” he murmurs, swiping his wet thumb over your skin.

“Oh.”

Viktor does such a great job of not looking at you while performing his little mercy that this gesture—almost sweet, if you two weren’t dangling from that tightrope right now—might have had a chance of passing as friendly. Maybe—if his touch resembled that of a mother cleaning dirt off a child’s face. Maybe—if his thumb weren’t caressing your lip with lingering tenderness, as if trying to memorise the order in which your mouth would wrinkle were it to come to kiss his.

He’s possibly, most likely done at some point, and you should be all cleaned up. But he doesn’t stop. He takes in your face—chin tilted up, leaning into his touch. Eyes hooded, defenceless. Such a gentle, fragile picture before him, so different to the way your mouth twists into a groan when you see him or the way you smirk when your insult lands on a fertile ground.

A calloused, trembling thing keeps swiping over your lips, and you inhale sharply. His hand shifts from your shoulder to your neck, and your eyes fall closed.

And then, oh, he still doesn’t stop.

His hand is shaking, breath held tight in his chest. Quivering fingers—index and middle—ghost over your upper lip, and for the love of everything sacred, you have no idea what overcomes you. When you part your mouth.

Viktor has a faint idea of what possesses him when he accepts the invitation and slides his fingers inside. It’s that nagging, ever-present thought—or wonder, rather—of what this mouth feels like from the inside. He’s thought about shutting your yapping mouth many times before. He just didn’t know his fingers would do as good a job as his tongue.

For a moment, it’s so insanely erotic that your brows scrunch. He pushes in and out, glides over your teeth and tongue. It’s all quiet, just the soft clicks of your make, until—

“Oh, fuck,” Viktor exhales, his thumb swiping beneath your jaw.

You hold him firmly between your lips and, at one point, even hum softly as his fingers part and graze the inside of your cheek. With a sharp exhale, he retreats, dragging your spit over your skin before cupping your face.

Your eyes open, and he’s so close you can taste his breath. An impossible moment.

You don’t think. You just do.

You let your face be pulled closer and closer until you think his mouth almost brushes yours—when your eyes meet. And then Viktor looks to the door.

His expression changes. A spatter of darkened gold flicks between the entrance to the lab and you, back and forth, before suddenly—he withdraws. His hands leave you in an instant. He rushes away, drops onto a stool, grabs a notebook, and starts scribbling as though nothing happened.

And you barely manage to take a ragged breath before the door swings open, laughter spilling inside—Jayce’s, loud as ever, followed by Sky’s.

Jayce looks around, eyebrows raised. “Huh. Nothing’s on fire for once.”

He passes you, and you can only bulge your eyes out to yourself, the only silent embodiment of the shock coursing through your veins. And goddamn it—Sky fucking catches it.

“Are you okay?” she asks, stopping in her tracks, eyeing you from head to toe.

First, you nod. Many times. Smiling like an idiot, completely fake. “Yes.”

“What was that then?” She mimics your expression, and it looks so fucking stupid you almost snort—but unfortunately for you, Jayce sees what Sky is trying to express, and now his attention is on you.

Quickly, you turn back to your previous position, lean on one leg, drill your eyes into the board, and a half-smile onto your face.

“I’m just… thinking. With my face. About this,” you gesture vaguely to whatever Viktor managed to cross out and write over in your split second of focus.

“Just some internal monologuing. In fact,” you say, slapping your thighs. “I need to… excuse me for a second—” is the only thing you manage before turning on your heel and rushing out.

Jayce immediately turns to Viktor. “What did you do?”

But you don’t hear the answer. You let your face twist and turn as you walk fast through the corridors, bumping from door to door, praying that one of them will be unlocked—some classroom or a janitor’s closet good enough for you to hide and slam your fists against a wall.

Finally, you find one—a small storage room stocked with backup sanitary items for disinfection. You barge in, leave the door ajar, and begin your dance.

You fall into a crouch and contemplate whether you could scream. You probably can’t, so you just hide your face between your knees, bury your hands in your hair, and mouth, What the fuck?

You take a couple of breaths. Stand up, take a few steps. A thousand expressions fly across your face as your mouth falls open and closed between cut whispers, crumbs of your thoughts. No and what and oh, God fall out, barely audible, as you gesture wildly with your hands and walk around in a tiny circle.

You try to jump it out, kick something that’s not there, before muttering, fuck. What the fuck. Then, a long exhale, and your hands just fall to your sides.

Fuck, again.

You press your lips into a thin line and breathe heavily through your nose, eyebrows all scrunched.

“Are you alright?” Viktor’s voice startles you.

He is standing in the doorway—for God knows how long—and you just clutch a fist to your chest, still unable to speak.

He stares at you, half-smiling at this display of internal conflict. He looks like he wants to say something. Or like he wants you to say something. You have no idea.

The longer you don’t speak, the more worried his face becomes. You take two steps toward him—then turn again, leaning over a small table. Then straighten back up, mouth something at him, but it’s impossible to say what. Chew on your cheek to the point of drawing blood.

As you get closer and closer, something breaks within you. Your hands reach for him—then retreat again. One more step, and one more.

And Viktor is stuck in place in the doorframe, having not even the faintest idea what to do.

Finally, you’re so close you could touch him. And you nod, as if to yourself, as if admitting some kind of defeat—when your hands cup his face, and you close the distance between his mouth and yours.

Just one kiss. Deep but fleeting, no tongue.

When you break away, you lick your lips and look at his nose. You make a tired, strangled sound, but Viktor doesn’t let you back away further.

He hooks his cane over his forearm, hands come to grab your waist and your neck, and he kisses you back—this time with tongue. Walks you inside, breathes through his mouth into this kiss that is neither fierce nor gentle. It’s just… so wanting, his moans are almost cries.

And you, too, want him to the point of crying out, when your hands don’t calm down with his touch—simultaneously mussing his hair and tugging at the collar of his shirt, signalling you want it off, you want to feel more of him. You slide your fingers underneath, nails scratching his collarbone, and he releases a low growl into your mouth.

It must look absolutely idiotic, when you bend backwards and pull him with you, making him hunch to not lose your lips, and Viktor stumbles, almost knocks you over before using your body for balance. You wrap your arms around his neck so tight his head almost snaps off and he responds with an equal strength of his palms crushing your ribs.

Hoarse breathing and little needy cries fill the tiny space, and you almost rip the shirt off his back, until—

The sound of your name echoing down the corridor startles you.

And then—

“Viktor!” Jayce calls. Behind him, Sky calls yours.

You detach from each other, panting, pure peril oozing between you.

“I’ve messed you up,” Viktor says quickly, adjusting your shirt back into your skirt. You could smile at the sweetness of the gesture, but—

The voices—closer, and closer, and closer.

“God, your hair,” you whisper, hands flying up to smooth down the strands you’ve mussed with panicked fingers.

Viktor’s hands drop from you. He lets you fuss over him but the more you touch him the more distant his expression grows. You almost deem your work decent, when he leans back in and shoveshis tongue into your throat again, as if he can’t stay away.

“Viktor, no, they will—”

You get cut off by a firm push to the table. He steps between your legs, yanks the door closed with his cane, and clasps a hand over your mouth.

“Quiet,” he pants. “They won’t.” And then he licks your neck, and your legs kick around him, thudding against the table leg.

“Shh, quiet,” he whispers between breaths. Bastard drags his tongue up your neck again, his free hand coming to pin your wrists together on your stomach. A kiss under your ear, a gentle suck of his lips gets your thighs clenching, trapping him between your legs and he has the audacity to smirk against your skin.

The sweet torture continues, when, feeling your fidgety hands grow pliant he releases you, only to use the newly gained freedom of his arm to slide a flat palm up your back, between your shoulder blades, all the way up so his fingers brush under your hairline before grabbing a fistful at the base of your skull. Have you known any better, you would bite the silencing hand, but you moan into it instead.

The moan dies into a whine, when Viktor’s tongue abandons your neck, and he comes back to look you in the eye all serious, then kisses the knuckles of his own palm as if they were your lips. “I meant it when I said I could gag you,” he hums and either he is not ready to see your eyes rolling to admire the insides of your eyeballs or the mere thought gets him to turned on his lids shut involuntarily.

And when Jayce and Sky clearly trot right next to the door that is now holding a secret dearest to your heart, you both freeze and keep your eyes shut, following the moronic rule of if you can’t see them they can’t see you either.

“All right, I’m ready to give up,” Jayce says, and Sky responds with nothing, but you can see her nodding in your mind’s eye. “Let’s just hope there aren’t any bodies lying around come morning.” That, Sky dignifies with a chuckle.

You both listen to the sound of their chatter and steps descending down the corridor in complete stillness, and when he is absolutely certain you are now truly alone, Viktor releases your mouth, its tender flesh pulled with his retreating hand, a quiet sticky sound follows.

He bites on his lower lip and stares at the glistening inner side of his palm for a moment and you wonder if he contemplates whether to lick it or wipe it into his pants. Then, he looks back at you, unsure and searching and you take one more step toward utter insanity, wrapping your legs around his and fisting his crumpled shirt.

“Is that a yes?” he asks against your mouth, cane comes to rest by the table and needy hands accept the invitation before his brain does as they cup your ass, pressing you against him. The feeling of his cock, hard between your legs and straining in his pants sends a cramp all the way to your core.

“A yes to what?” you bounce the question off as your tongue darts to lick his upper lip.

“To gagging,” Viktor still tries, but the chuckle gives him away.

“You’re disgusting,” you snort, nearly into his mouth. He swallows it in another kiss, prettier than the last one, gentler. Deeper as well, when he cups your face and licks into you through pleased hums, his eyelashes brush underneath yours and you can smell chalk and paper on him.

Of all people, Viktor giving you kiss so full of emotion, is not a thing you would bet on. But you accept it, messing his hair back into the state from before you licked it down with your palms, soft strands fill the gaps between your fingers as you flex them to tug, pull, and scratch your nails on his scalp and as you crack your eyes open, goosebumps rises and falls in waves down the taunt skin of his cheeks.

“For fucks sake touch me,” he rasps, showing you his underbelly. “Please.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say this word to me,” you tease him, licking into his mouth and shifting your hips so that your clothed cunt would press on his crotch. He groans your name out in a warning and doesn’t let you win this one, biting your neck, almost unhinging his jaw in the process.

You don’t retaliate either. Shaky fingers come to undo the first few buttons of his shirt, and you caress his collar bones before placing a soft kiss in the pool where they meet. Viktor’s head lulls back on his shoulders, hips roll into yours and mouth moans out the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Ah, fuck,” you hiss against his skin despite yourself. Very reluctant to let him know how hot you find him right now, you drag your tongue up his neck to shut yourself up. Viktor, obviously at the edge of his patience, grabs the back of your neck and collides your mouths back into another greedy kiss, making you almost, well, gag, on his tongue.

“Yes to gagging, then,” he says triumphantly. Tired with waiting for your hands to touch him where he wants it the most, he slides one palm under your skirt, pressing on a thin, wet barrier of your knickers and hums, pleased that he is not alone in his overwhelming want.

“Ah!” A gasp escapes you when you feel how desperate his touch is. “So, there is, fuck—” you stutter at the feeling his fingers sliding the material to the side and finding your clit. “Kindness in your touch after all.” Your hands already fumble at his belt and Viktor smirks at the stark contrast between the overall cockiness of your message and a very poor delivery not backing it up.

“Only kindness,” he whispers and there is honesty within him you’ve never seen before. He sinks two fingers inside you, thumb fixed where you throb and pulse, and you almost lose his cock from your hand at the stumbling realisation of how good he is with his hands. You brace yourself with a firm grip on his shoulder, your free hand spreads the beads of precum over his head and Viktor exhales a shuddery breath. You give him a couple of experimental pumps and decide to push him further, retreating your touch only to present him with your palm open, waiting below his chin when you say, “Spit.”

“Who’s disgusting now,” he chuckles but obeys. Soon a warm wet splash lands on your hand, and you cannot take your eyes off his lips when his cheeks hollow out and tongue rolls to gather his spit for you. You’ve never seen him doing it either. The movement of his fingers doesn’t waver for a moment, and you have to use all of your massive brain power to not get distracted between your own pleasure and his cock.

You grasp him at the base and spread the slick all the way to the top, rolling your fingers on the sensitive spot under his head, to which Viktor replies with a firmer rub against your clit. The more you edge him, the more he coms forth, curling his fingers inside you, making you scowl and lose your rhythm on his cock and he’s willing to make this little sacrifice only so see how lovely your face contorts the closer you are to falling apart.

He defeats you almost entirely when a third finger gets introduced to your hole and all you can do is just hold him in your palm, your other hand slides back up his hair and you tug him close to taste his lips again and send your groan into his throat. Finally, you come in a couple of clenched out spasms, losing control of your mouth as you press yourself into him and Viktor gulps down your moans, humming and smiling with something clean and genuine.

Your legs go limp on his sides, forehead comes to rest on his shoulder, and you allow yourself a couple of shuddery breaths before moving your hand again. You lift your head to look at him, face all pink and covered with a sheen of sweat and his lips part sweetly when you resume languid rolls of your wrist.

Viktor braces himself on the edge of the table, hands come to grip on each side of your hips, his knuckles pale, and he leans in, holding your gaze. Utters a quiet fuck when you smile at him, all blissfully complete and you suddenly find yourself wanting to make him feel just as good. So you pump his cock faster, taking cues from the way his cheeks flare up, eyes flutter and breath hitches. He grunts and moans and pants and you record each and every one of those sounds in the grooves of your brain.

When’s he’s becoming unbearably hot and twitching in your palm, his hands crawl back to cup your face, and he kisses you deeply, soft tongue invading your mouth again and you know his almost there, so you pull your skirt up and make him paint your inner thighs with cum. Heat spreads across your skin when Viktor shakes out the last spasms of his orgasm, your lips still glued together.

“Who knew you are such a sweet creature,” he mumbles hotly between kisses, his softening cock rolling in his own cum on your thigh.

“It’s a secret, don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, reaching blindly to the shelf above your head to grab a roll of paper towels. You hand it to Viktor, and he tears off a piece and sets the roll outside of your reach. With a protest already dangling off your tongue, you let it crawl back into your throat when Viktor wipes himself off your thigh with tenderness and care that gets you borderline embarrassed.

Then, he cleans himself up and you watch him with wide eyes as he tucks everything back into his pants, throws the cum-stained paper into the bin and leans back to kiss you, as if something just got established.

“A compromise agrees with you,” he says, resting his forehead against yours. “You too,” you reply stupidly, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. And you wonder—how long is the fall off this tightrope going to be? When will you crash into the ground and break your neck?

[https-kittyx3]

pls pls pls could you write a poly!odypen x reader? I really loved your Telemachus story!!! :D

we will fall in love with you again

TEEHEE thank you very much, i wasnt so proud of that so i'm glad you loved it!!

also poly odypen request???!?!? YES. UESUESUEUSEUSYESUEYS i really really want more Epic requests aaahh i am obsessed with writing stuff about it. i have multiple hermes fics i started and never finished lmao

btw i swear i've seen you in the tags before, you should totally write epic the musical fics!! i'm curious about the one you said you have based on your self insert >:3

also this is kinda angsty i think? but it leads up to fluff!! i promise i won't break your heart <3

not proofread at all, excuse is in the tags lolol

lowercase intended || art cred

all throughout your life, you would have never expected what kind of relationship you'd have in your adulthood. younger you would imagine settling down with someone you fell in love with, living in a house together and spending the last of your days side by side.

the idea of having two lovers was the last thing you'd think about. it wasn't even something you knew you were capable of — loving two people at the same time? wouldn't it be unfair if you ended up loving one more than the other?

as much as that worry was understandable, it'd never end up becoming a problem; odysseus and penelope both earned your affections equally. they've both been your friends since what felt like the beginning of time - you never kept anything from each other, always made time for one another, and never had trouble speaking your minds... until things became complicated.

you tried so desperately to ignore it—the growing feelings you felt towards both of your best friends. it was anxiety inducing, especially since it was overly clear that the two were interested in each other. no matter the way it went, someone was going to be heartbroken. someone was going to be sad and the three of you could never be the same. it was agonizing to think about, to imagine the outcomes - you adore them both, to lose what you have would be your biggest regret.

ignoring your feelings seemed like the best bet for the longest time, but there was always that pang in your chest every time they'd talk about each other to you that reminded you of your own heart.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"it's endearing how awkward he gets," penelope airily chuckles as she folds strands of her hair over and over in a pattern to create a braid, "sometimes, it's like he can barely form words around me... i wonder if that means he feels the same."

you feel yourself biting the inside of your cheek, carefully braiding the other side of penelope's hair for her. it was a mindless action the two of you fell into as you chatted together. all you manage to give her is a hum, your heart growing a tad heavy once again. penelope shifts, almost as if she senses your hesitation.

"is something the matter?" she questions with concern, tying the ends of her hair together to keep the braid from coming undone. penelope's always been the one who can read your emotions — it's one of the many things that made you fall for her. she's gentle, earnest... there isn't a chance in the underworld that she'd ignore your sadness. as your friend, she's here for you. she always has been.

you gaze at her slowly, almost afraid to look her in the eye - you could break at any moment, admit everything you're feeling, and ruin all you're familiar with. you don't want that, even if it leads to an eternity of heartache.

"of course! i apologize, i'm just distracted..." you sheepishly admit, finishing the other part of her braid. you let your hands fall away and sit in the grass below, a few strands nestling between your fingers. you grip onto them, pulling blades from their roots.

penelope sighs, having heard this time and time again over the course of your friendship. it wasn't uncommon for you to dismiss her concern, just to pop up later needing to vent - she understands it, even. so, she picks at the grass with you, but instead grabbing a flower that grows in the grass beneath you both.

she leans over you, gently placing the flower's stem behind your ear with ease. penelope then places her palm against your cheek, directing your gaze towards her with a soft touch. you feel yourself flush under her eyes and touch, your cheeks warming against her palm — part of you wonders if she notices the way you react to these small touches, and if she knows how you feel underneath your veil.

"you know you can talk to me about anything," penelope whispers with softened eyes. behind that kindness lingers her own conflict, confusion, and fear - but it wasn't known to you in this moment. in hindsight, perhaps it would've been more obvious if you looked deeper. if only you had talked to her then and there, taking up that sincere offer, things would've been more simple.

instead, your lovesick-ridden mind came up with the silliest thing you could have said;

"penelope, you're so sweet i could kiss you." you speak before you're able to think about how that sounds. you mean it as a joke... mostly, but in the moment it was meant as a way to accentuate how kind she is. instead, and with the amount of passion you spoke those words, it came off as a genuine confession.

and it's clear that penelope took it that way, with how quickly her cheeks darken in red. you pull back immediately, throwing in an awkward laugh as you gently push her hand down.

"i'm kidding! you're just... so kind. i don't know what i'd do without you."

inwardly, you sigh in relief as you watch her relax. crisis averted, you think. penelope responds with a laugh — a genuine giggle, a jingle of joy — it warms your heart faster than your face.

"likewise." she speaks with a gorgeous smile.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"i just... i don't know what to say to her!" odysseus rambles on and on about penelope, occasionally asking for your thoughts on what he should do or say, all while swinging a stick at a tree as if he were fighting a massive creature. at the same time, he paces back and forth while looking up at you from where you sit on that same tree. your legs dangle from the lowest branch, hands gripping it tightly so you don't fall. it's a rather sturdy tree - an olive tree, specifically. the one where the three of you tend to spend your spare time together, though these days it's more often just two. becoming too busy is inevitable, after all.

this day was not one of those, however. penelope is to meet the two of you any minute now, though it's becoming apparent that she's been swept away by something or other - leaving you, odysseus, and the complicated feelings within.

even though you have feelings for both of them, having only one or the other around stresses you out. you're so unstable with your feelings and thoughts that you barely trusted yourself to stay quiet about them.

"what would you do?" odysseus tosses the stick to the side, plopping down against the trunk right under the branch you sit on.

"what would i do about what?" you question, not realizing that odysseus had been talking on and on as you zoned out from above. at this point in time, you were being no better than a certain goddess who was hopeless when it came to love advice. odysseus raises a brow up at you, "about... confessing your feelings?"

"oh!" you sit up straight, a panicked look on your face that is almost comical, "what feelings? i don't have any feelings for anyone!"

odysseus snorts, resting his head against the trunk, "i was talking about confessing my feelings for penelope, but... now it sounds like you might fancy someone." odysseus teases you, but it's not so clear in the moment — you feel caught, like all your thoughts had been read and exposed. your heart picks up in pace as you shift awkwardly, trying to think up any excuse to get out of this topic, before you realize that you're leaning on nothing but air.

you fail to catch yourself before you're falling backwards towards the ground, letting out a scream as you brace for impact. you're lucky you're only so far from the ground, because any further would've been death for you.

odysseus catches you swiftly, feeling lucky that he was right below you. he didn't even have to get up to snatch you from the air — all he had to do was lean forwards and pull you against his chest to cushion your fall.

and cushion, it did. your head falls against his collarbone, and your back lands right against his torso. his arms are wrapped securely around your chest, holding you up as you lean your head back to take a look at his face.

"looks like i fell for you, heheh..." what an awful joke for an awkward situation. odysseus does the same as penelope had done — he takes your joke as a poorly veiled confession, and as much as it may be, it's not something you want to admit right after he finished talking about his feelings for someone else. that 'someone else' being your mutual companion, your third member. your best friend.

ugh. what a situation to get yourself into.

odysseus' eyes are wide and cautious, but not for long as you sit yourself up with the dismissal wave of your hands, "no, no... that came out weird! i was doing a joke, but it was bad timing..!"

oddly enough, you see odysseus' face fall into a neutral expression for a faint moment, before glowing up and into a hearty laugh. similarly to penelope, again, it warms you to hear him laugh so sincerely. he finds you funny, and that brings you joy.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

despite all the signs of the mutual feelings between the three of you, it'd be a good while before things are finally shared. the next few years are spent pining after each other, battling that inner anxiety, and finally... admitting it to yourselves.

your heart is big enough for both of them, and it's something you have grown to come to terms with. all of that confusion and inner conflict subsided into an understanding, regardless of how anxiety-inducing it all still was. penelope and odysseus were simply just the most open about their feelings for each other at first. it took you a bit more time to finally open up, but once you did, you were surprised at how open the both of them were to you.

it was exciting to finally be able to express your feelings to them, to finally be able to tell them how in love with them you are without being afraid of losing them.

unbeknownst to you, it was an internal battle for the two of them as well. that feeling of loving two people at once, yet not knowing what to do about it for the fear of losing both of them.

the three of you, now together as one, share more love between you than anyone has ever seen. even athena, whose lifespan escapes the confines of time, has never witnessed such an incredible bond as yours. she's also heard endless stories about your romance from odysseus, who can't find it in him to stop talking about you and penelope — but who can blame him? he's blessed with two of the best partners he could have asked for.

even as you three grow older, take over more dire responsibilities, and marry one another, your love never wavers.

even after penelope bears a child, after the dread of a war looms ever closer, and odysseus is swept off to save the lives of many — your bond is true.

it's ever lasting.

he'll come back to his spouses and son, whether the gods want him to or not.

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. “ you're coming with me ” : 

﹙ yandere demon x gn reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . valerius ariti x gn reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ demon lord ˖ rhytaari character ﹚

you catch the eye of a demon. it's more than that. it's obsession. so much so that he intends to drag you down to hell itself with him.

﹙ cws ﹚: dark content ˖ yandere tendencies ˖ forced kissing | wc : 0.8k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: some sides tp valerius that you should see <3

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

When light knows dark for long enough, it may see it long enough for itself to become the abyss it has stared at for centuries

It feasts away at anything that comes into contact with it. The shine of stars, the shimmer of light that lives way below the surface and inside of the soul.

The prince of failure knows such concept better than anyone. One as himself, who faced rebirth in the darkness and feasts away at it like the rest of the devils and gargantuans that haunt the grounds of the abhorration.

Pure light like you. . . Oh yes, a taste of the ages that he loves to savour and corrupt slowly, and ever as sweetly at times. He's drunk on the taste of your skin, the feel of your body against his. Demonic urges be the winner of him. You are someone who he has to have.

A pretty new gem to his collection of broken lovers and pretty past time worshippers that have come far and wide to see themselves with the prince who has discarded them long ago and left them nothing but devotees and advocates of his causes. Spreading his cult across different lands like the plague.

You weren't aware of his obsession towards you.

All but a mere inhuman artist in the vast world of 781. A 3rd year attendee of the ECU, with the art class major. His infatuation had grown to grave lengths after conversing with you.

There was something about you. Touch, voice and laugh. Why, they were each and on their own enough to make the flowers of the earth sigh in refreshment. And whenever you walked away from him in the hallways to get to your other classes, he felt this need to reach out and grab you. Preventing you from making another move.

That would not be enough, and he would not wish to damage the foundation of friendship the two of you had built. He craved for something more, however, and his urges got him before sense did.

Such is the life of a rhytaari, who dwells the grounds of the abhorration as not only a demon but a man who strives to have back something pure in his life each time the old breaks.

"Valerius—"

Delicious. . . The panic in your voice was absolutely delectable.

Gently, his knuckles made long strokes down your cheek, to soothe and reassure you that you were going to be alright. You'd looked so beautiful in your sleep, and he was able to be quiet for the most part as he drew the circle around your bed to open a portal straight to his temple in the realm of the abhorred.

He could have taken you simply, sure. With the possibility of dizzying you at the sheer amount of power he uses normally to teleport himself from place to place.

A portal would be easier. Less straining and worrisome on your soul.

"Shhh,"

Shivers shoot up your spine. Nausea cranked up to a max in your gut. Every part of your intuition is screaming at you. About how none of this is normal, about how you need to get up and run.

But run where?

Gods of the realms might as well come laugh you into your face at the notion of trying. You're not getting out of this regardless.

"It shall be alright, I will take care of you."

You thought you knew the man in front of you. Yet from now to when you last saw him. His entire appearance has changed. Gold litters every part of him, be it jewellery or makeup. His hair floats in the most enamouring manner possible. Yet you find yourself too disturbed to care much at the very moment.

"I don't want to do what you want." You let out. Regretting it instantly, as his eyes go from having hopeful glee in them, to darkness that pitted the deep vapour of the abyss.

"You will do what I am doing for you. This is for you." He calmly responds, as his hand shoots up to take hold of your jaw in a firm grasp. It brings you forward into a kiss. Golden lips drunkenly feeding off of the small cries and sobs you let out. The fear makes him feel high.

"You're hurting me—"

"I would never put you to any harm, stop crying." He sneers against your lips, teeth grazing against your bottom lip to bite at it. Your body stiff and for his taking the second his left arm swoops you into it's hold and he tilts back into the portal.

As the both of you fall through skies of red, skies of the damned, he grins at you like a madman. Hearts in his eyes as though you are his most beloved.

You are, to him. Why can't you accept that? He just wants to love you.

"Mine." He cries out in glee, clawing golden wounds into your skin. "All mine at last,"

"None will hurt you here."

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[supansa4s]

When Friendship Becomes Love

genre : fluff

You always knew Lee Minho before the world did. Before the sold-out concerts, before the flashing cameras, before millions of fans screamed his name, he was just Minho, your best friend, the boy who always stole your fries and made you laugh until your stomach hurt.

It all started in high school. He was the talented dance prodigy with dreams too big for your small hometown, and you were the one who swore you’d always support him. When he left for Seoul to train, you stayed behind, keeping in touch through late-night calls and inside jokes that never got old.

Even after he debuted as Lee Know of Stray Kids, he never forgot you. He still texted you memes at odd hours, still called when he was stressed, still made time for you in his rare moments of freedom. But something had changed, not in him, not in you, but in the way your heart reacted whenever his name lit up your screen.

You ignored it for years. Convinced yourself it was just admiration, just pride for your best friend who had made it. Until one night, when he showed up at your doorstep unannounced.

"Minho? What are you doing here?" You blinked at him in disbelief, still in your pajamas, holding a half-eaten bag of chips.

He shrugged, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. "Had a few days off. Thought I’d spend them with my best friend."

Best friend. The words stung more than they should have.

The next few days felt like old times, movie marathons, late-night walks, and laughter filling every quiet moment. But there was something different in his gaze, a lingering touch when he passed you the popcorn, the way his fingers brushed yours and neither of you pulled away.

Then came the moment everything changed.

It was the last night of his visit, and Minho had insisted on taking you somewhere special. He blindfolded you in the car, ignoring your playful protests, and led you carefully down a path. When he finally removed the blindfold, you gasped. You were standing in the middle of a quiet park, fairy lights strung between trees, casting a golden glow over the picnic he had set up just for you.

"Minho... what is this?" You turned to him, eyes wide with disbelief.

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. "Just thought I'd do something nice before I go back. You always said you wanted a fancy picnic, right?"

Your heart clenched as you looked at the setup, plush blankets, your favorite snacks, even a small speaker playing soft music in the background. But what truly made your breath catch was the small box he pulled from his pocket.

"I got you something." He handed it to you, eyes flickering with uncertainty. "Open it."

You lifted the lid to reveal a delicate silver bracelet, a tiny charm in the shape of a cat dangling from it. It was simple but beautiful, and so unmistakably Minho.

"I saw it and thought of you" he admitted, voice quieter now. "So you'd have something from me, even when we're apart."

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes as you ran your fingers over the charm. You wanted to say something, to tease him, to tell him he was being too sentimental, but all you could do was stare at him, heart pounding.

Then, he spoke the words that changed everything.

"I think I’ve been in love with you for longer than I want to admit."

Your heart stopped. "Minho—"

"I don’t want to be just best friends anymore," he continued, voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. "Not when I know it could be more."

And in that moment, with the stars above, the soft music playing, and his hand reaching for yours, you realized, maybe you'd been waiting for this all along.

Maybe Lee Minho wasn’t just your best friend.

Maybe he was your something more.

[butch-king-frankenstein]

What didn't you like about poly life?

where to start

I did my best to make this list out of things that I genuinely believe are trends within the community and not just annoying traits of specific people I dated, but maybe I'm wrong. anyway here are the things I did not like about trying to be poly

the way that so many poly people talk a big game about "not believing in hierarchical relationship practices" while also clearly having a mental list of their romantic/sexual relationships from most to least important

relatedly: the way some people claim to believe in "relationship anarchy" while having a partner who would clearly just be their husband/wife/singular-monog-partner if they were willing to close off the potential of sex with their friends

the devaluation of any friendship that doesn't become sexual

the tendency of poly people to overextend themselves by picking up too many partners, leading to them allowing their lower-priority relationships to collapse in a way that inevitably hurts everyone involved

the way that poly people are expected to only feel positively about their partners acquiring other partners/new hookups/etc., even when those new relationships demonstrably lessen the amount of effort their partners put into their relationships with them

the way that no one actually wants to deal with their partners' feelings of jealousy in any kind of healthy way, and instead wants to just go "it's natural to be jealous sometimes :)" and then have the conversation stop

how the idea that "no one person should be responsible for all your needs" gets weaponized as an excuse for emotionally neglecting one's partners

similarly, how the concept of "personal autonomy" gets weaponized against anyone who actually wants their partner to do something for them

the potential for selfish individualism it holds! and the way people act like it's inherently some kind of community-building principle, when it can just as easily be about assembling a group of people who will fulfill your needs while refusing to give back to them

more broadly, I suppose, how polyamory is treated as this inherently radical thing, when it's actually just another way that you can structure a relationship, and talking about it like it's some kind of great leap forward is reductive and shortsighted and very very silly

[sanesaviour]

Spidey🕸️🕷️

yea, it’s head cannon time:

1. at fist he doesn’t get along with team, they are pretty weak team due to lack of teamwork but after fist year Peter becomes really good leader, he knows everyones strong side and how to push them to do their best

2. only team member who isn’t afraid to argue with Fury

3. Peter feels guilty about everything that happened to Harry, the whole Venom incident messed them up but even after Harry stopped talking to him Peter never really stopped seeing Harry as his closest friend (he always stares at him when he sees him in hallway and thinks about what could he done differently)… MJ tries to make them talk about it even tho she really don’t know what happened between them

4. when he get’s higher score on test than Ava he pretends he doesn’t had to study at all (even tho he studied all night long) just to annoy her,… even tho they are good friends they never study together due to their academic rivalry… also Ava is probably only one who can keep Peter in line besides MJ and aunt May

5. genuinely likes to spend time with Danny because he finds him so calming, even more after his and Harrys friendship fell appart. also when Peter found out that Danny is insanly rich he was angry about all the time he let him buy food without anything in return when they were hanging out (before that Peter thought that he is just teenage boy who have 0 knowlage about concept of money since he spend most of his life in k’un-lun)… also Danny is only one who doesn’t get annoyed with Peter’s jokes

6. Sam and Peter have most chaotic team ups, whether they work together on mission or school project it’s guaranteed to end in something exploding, a crazy amount of collateral damage or Fury looking so done

7. always gets post battle snacks with luke, they have tradition of hitting up fast food spot after mission, Luke always orders enough food for three people while Peter scarfs down with ridiculous amount of fries (when others are with them sam usually tries to steal some, but Luke blocks him)… also Peter likes to annoy luke just for fun, he likes to make terrible puns or tries to web Luke’s snacks away, he finds it hilarious when Luke gives him that deadpan “really?” look

8. Peter is low-key jealous that MJ is so effortlessly cool while he is sometimes human disaster, she is his best friend and he starts to value their friendship more after that incident with Harry… and no matter what, MJ and Peter will be always friends first even if things gets sometimes bit complicated

9. he refuses to swear, instead of cursing he says something like what the web lol and accidentally called Fury “dad” several times

This took me way too long to write… Anyways feel free to ask anything ;))

[drdemonprince]

A little positivity for your inbox :). I'm a queer, autistic generally gender-fucked individual and I wanted to share how much your posts ab building community and putting yourself out there have helped me. I moved to Chicago 9 months ago and felt like the most miserable version of myself. I had like 1 friend and felt too socially inept to pursue any other connections. My anxiety had me locked in a state of inaction. Seeing you post about the merit of just GOING to things, just putting yourself in spaces helped me feel like that was something I could do too? And so I did. I would go events (with my 1 friend) I never really knew what to do with myself I would just kind of...be there. And for a while it was really uncomfortable and I would freak out afterwards. Like every time. But it felt good to be doing SOMETHING to improve that part of my life. It was one of those things that sucked until it didn't I guess. Cut to present day and I'm a version of myself that I didn't know I could be? I go to parties where I know almost no one and I talk to people even when I'm a little scared to approach them. I have so much confidence?? I have to acknowledge that this was more attainable for me than some because I'm an autist who's able to mask. Even still, I was able to find people like me who I can unmask around by venturing out a little. It is possible. My friendship circle has grown into this beautiful collection of neurodivergent weirdo freaks who I never would have known had I kept to myself day in and day out like I wanted to. I'm also not someone whose body meets most standards of desirability, it made it harder but not impossible. Anyways, thanks for being loud and obstinate and also hopeful! You make people's lives better by doing these things. I hope you have a wonderful weekend and enjoy the little bit of sunshine being thrown our way ♥️♥️♥️

Yay thank you. I most want to share this ask so that other people can see it and think about whether your experience could be relevant to their own lives. A WHOLE lot can happen just from showing up to things a bunch of times, getting a little *less* uncomfortable being there (even if you always feel kinda uncomfortable forever, i still do!), participating in what you can, becoming a familiar face, talking to people, and seeing who you vibe with. that's the work. that's everything. and you can do it being shy/anxious/awkward/having highly particular needs/being visibly othered/etc. It's HARD and not everyone is gonna be your people but it is possible. It's a lot of work but it's worth it.

[yey56]

LEITH PIERRE X PSYCOLOGIST READER

(complicated feelings, un-required love, Leith getting his hopes up and later destroyed. Mainly Leith's pov of chap 1 and before of that).

Since the moment you started working at playtime co you were like a fish in the sea. You adapted quicky in your position and as time passed by, your job as a clinic psychologist expanded to the head psychologist in the company. Then you became closer to the rest of the executives and important charges at the company.

That position had it's ups and downs. Your favourite benefit was the chance to work with the innovation and design department. There you met Leith Pierre, head of innovation.

You both got along right from the start, both of you were good at knowing what people wanted and you shared the gift of creativity so Leith and you were made friends very fast.

He was pretty friendly with most of the staff but sometimes he had his rage moments (like for example when an employee took him by suprise and scared the hell out of him after passing through a door)

As a joke, you made him a poster that specifically instructed the visitants and the staff of the factory to not hide behind door because Leith will get startled.

Deep down, that kind of sense of humor you had made him like you even more. You both were competitive in your works but always maintained a playful banter. A silly battle of subtle little insults will always start when you were together in the same room. Never aim to really hurt but rather to annoy and tease.

He would often frequent your office and talk to you about the last models of toys he was designing, always focused on listening to your opinion and how certain factors of the design might attract more clients.

If he ever catched you in the middle of an appointment with a child he would wave and wait outside until the child finished.

You also noticed he was a very physical man. He was always touching everyone's shoulders or backs as a way to appear closer or warmer. You assumed he had his businessmen methods on appearing more appealing to the public.

Pierre was getting more attached to you by each year that you worked on the company.

He even tried to get closer to you by directing himself the commercial of the toy you design yourself, Piannosaurus.

"So, what do you think... Come one, we both now it's amazing!!" He said excited as he extended his arms and grabbing your shoulder in the process.

"Certainly not bad... I would've made it better but not bad for being you" you chucked playfully. Leith had taken you out of your work hours to show you this commercial.

You appreciated the effort, of course but your mind was occupied by something else or maybe someone else.

A few months ago the project Bigger Bodies started and at the lead was Dr Harley Sawyer. Leith didn't get along with Sawyer and neither did you at the start.

In reality, you didn't care much about Harley at the start apart from being a capable Dr and later someone who you respected professionally but Leith seemed to have some kind of mistrust against him.

He always wore tense smiles around him and didn't seemed to trust him much.

Eventually you started becoming more involved with the project, obsessed even. You were most of your time in the lower levels performing experiments and treating the toys and kids down there.

Pierre always knew you as someone very comprised with her work. You loved what you did and you made it known.

The problem was that you barely seemed to remember others existence apart from yourself and the person you were down there with. Sawyer.

Your relationship with the doctor had developed into some sort of friendship. Your ideals were very similar and since you both always insisted on staying down personally supervising the experiments you ended up interacting with each other a lot.

One day he got tired of waiting for you to seek out so he did it himself.

"Good morning sir" greeted the guard responsible for the labs.

"Where is Dr (Y/L/N)?" He asked directly.

"Sir, Dr (Y/L/N) and Dr Sawyer are in lab 007 performing an experiment on one of the toys."

He was certainly irritated that Sawyer was the one getting your time, but of course you were the only two ones demented enough to stay down there for more than required.

Some deadlines on his department had been missed because your lack of assistance didn't gave the inversors the security to invest in the toys.

He had suggested Ludwig to make your intervention in innovation required at least twice a week but the man was still revising the schedules and contracts.

Irritated, he arrived at the handrail you and Sawyer were at. You were taking notes and commenting on the behaviour and cognitive abilities of a nightmare creature. This one was bigger than the others, a black sheep.

His blood boiled when he saw Sawyer so close to you. He had been made aware that there were complaints about the Drs lack of respect for boundaries and personal space.

If Harley didn't knew how to maintain some healthy physical space that was his problem.

Forcing a smile he approached the pair, putting a hand on Harley's shoulders.

"Sawyer! (Y/L/N)! It's been quite sometime since you had seen the sun" his attempt at humor was met by the disgusted face Harley gave him.

The Dr moved his shoulder harshly so Pierre's hand would fall from it.

"Working, the experiments require time" he responded dryly.

"Sawyer the investors are waiting, I'm sure you both are working yourself to the bone to get a result out of the experiments but I need to give something to the guys funding us" he turned to you "(Y/N)!, I'm sure you understand that this project is very risky. We are putting so much on the line" he now grabbed your shoulder.

You were still writing in the report the last notes about the experiment "Of course I do understand Leith, but you need to comprehend that precisely because this is a risky project we cannot allow ourselves to make any mistake" you finalised the notes by signing them.

"Would you be so kind as to give this report to Dr White? He will need to make some adjustments in his next patients. Harley and I have been noticing some patterns on the experiments that can be corrected if we are careful enough" Oh! Now you called him Harley. How sweet. He though while you passed him the notes. He held on the subtle contact you fingers made.

Harley seemed annoyed merely by Leith's presence. He was already used to you being there with him. He had accepted you as part of his space.

You could peacefully exist in his office, in the labs he was in and anywhere near him but any other person who should not be there that was somewhat staying more than needed was met with a glacial look from the doctor.

"Pierre, as I'm sure you understand I have more surgeries to perform and (Y/L/N) needs to run some more test on 1888." Sawyer looked coldly at Leith and left the lab while putting on his lab bat.

Leiths tense smile dropped the moment Sawyer got out of the area and he quickly turned to you.

You were putting away some documents on the bookshelves on the wall, archiving the remainder of the experiment.

"You know, you could get out of here sometime. The innovation team is a disaster without you doing their works" he joked trying to fix the tense atmosphere that had took over the room.

You stretcht, groaning before facing him. "Yeah sorry, this is just so fascinating.... And I need to lead the other psychologist, the experiment are quite picky." You laughed

"Don't worry, both me and Harley are required in the executive meetings. The next one is on Tuesday right? After that I will go to you office and we can settle whatever problem you and your team have" There it was again, that stupid name. He sighed annoyed and rolled his eyes. He took a look at you.

You look tired, exhausted but the light on your eyes, either by the caffeine or by the excitement made it worth it going down here.

The weeks turned into moths and even though you fulfilled your statement and spent not one bit two entire days reassuring the investors, analysing the latest trends preferences and assisting on the designs, sensory materials etc.

This appeased Leith but it irritated Sawyer. He had already his routine. You would perform your interviews and consulta, him his surgeries and later on you would both discuss the experiments and their development, sometimes even going as far a having dinner together in silence or with you ranting about some recent studies you had read.

He had heard you talk a lot about how music affected kids and how Pianosaurus was a great stimuli for the kids and a great way of stimulating the mind and creativity.

You were specially proud of that damned dinosaur and Harley knew it (mainly because you talked about it a lot)

Therefore, after getting acostumed to you and even enjoying your presence and monologues, he felt absolutely enraged that Leith was going out of his way to take you away from your responsibilities and workload. (And him of course, though he would never admit it).

He had already confronted Pierre telling him to stop making other workers lose time just because his team wasn't productive enough.

Of course this caused that the Ludwig himself had to intervene and stablish some legal rules. Re-establishing all of your contracts.

Leith should do his work with his team and since your importance in the project was essential, he should ask any other psychologist of your team if he needed help.

The resentment on Leith's part keep growing and growing just as the complaints about Sawyer.

It got to a point that even other executives as Stella had complaint about him being insufferable.

This got to a point in which the three of them started to plot how to deal with him until they got to a common ground

We could always 'deal with him' " Rittermann suggested "it's not like we haven't done it before"

"Either way, what do we do about (Y/N) she also seems pretty involved with the project. Do you think she might be a threat?" Stella quickly denied that, she wasn't really on board with the idea of dealing with people and also she didn't have any problem with you, you did your job well and treated the children with respect and that enough for her. "No, that would be just unnecessary she had done nothing wrong"

Leith was quick to agree with her "yeah, and some of the experiment are already attached to her, some of them are even refusing to be treated by other psychologist as far as I've been informed. She hasn't done anything wrong, I'm pretty sure we can just do this privately and get going."he finalised, settleling the plan

He felt relieved when the rest of them agreed. He didn't think he would have the guts to give you as a meal to Boxy Boo.

But before he could get out of the room he heard an impact on the floor. The three executives went out of the room and found the guard they had assigned to guard the corridor with his club high.

Leith looked at the floor to see who had the guard hit.

He saw you body and your belonging spilling out of a box on the floor. He knelt to your level and took you pulse. After realising what he had done, he quickly ordered the guard to take you to another room and to cuff you on a piece of furniture.

He then went away of the room, accompanied by Stella, to personally give the order of dealing with Sawyer and ascending Dr White as the new head of the surgeons.

He was completely unaware that after leaving Rittermann alone, he had given the order of dealing with you the same way as with Sawyer.

He was made aware of your fate when your anesthesia had already kicked in. He saw through the glass your unconscious body, he regretted not insisting more to Elliot about moving you upstairs again or to Home sweet Home instead of letting the situation get out of hand.

He personally chose one of your discarded designs as your new body. One you knew you would like, or at leat hate less...

A white manikin with only two black eyes. That toy you designed was destined to potentiate creativity by dressing it with accessories made of either doe or other manipulable materials...

This had gone so far tot he point he couldn't stop it, but at leat he wasn't going to lose you completely. He was a creative man, he would work something out.

He didn't realise everything would go wrong when the anesthesia didn't really worked out.

He receive a call from one of the surgeons in charge of your surgery, shouting desperate something about you waking up and stabbing his assistant with a scalpel. He faintly heard your voice on the background and later the sound of someone being shot.

Scared of what you might do, he ran to one of Sawyers screens.

"where is she??!!" Leith asked desperate

"Mmm, an why would I tell you Leith" his bitter voice was evident even though the static that now surrounded it.

Leith grabbed the sides of the TV "Listen to me you good for nothing system, either you tell me where she is or she is going to get shot by a guard!!" The seemed enough to convince Harley.

"Control room" after that he turned himself of.

Again Pierre started to run to the control room and when he reached the end of the corridor he saw you banging on the door, still in the medical dress you had for the operation.

He shouted you name and when he was already close enough to reach you, the door suddenly opened, letting you in. He knew it had been Sawyer. Only people with executive access could enter that room.

He desperately tried to reason with you, he could already imagine what would you do.

"(Y/N)!! Stop this. You are not thinking straight! They will kill you, all of us!!!" He said completely desperate, attempting to convince you to stop whatever you were planning, banging on the door even harder.

The red lights started illuminating the whole compound. That only meant one thing, you had opened the cages "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!- WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!" He kept banging on the door out of desperation and fear" Nonono-"he murmured. Suddenly he hear you stared talking so he stuck his head to the door, trying to hear you.

You were also leaning on the other side of the door, with the look of a madwoman on you face.

"Actions have consequences Leith, sooner or later both you and I were going to face them, I just accelerated the process." you said with a mocking tone that brushed insanity"Im just helping you learn how to take responsibility for your actions."you finished with a harsh tone in your voice that expressed resentment and betrayal.

He was going to keep arguing with you, still not giving up but he heard the screams to pain and horror of the other workers so he just run and by sheer luck managed to escape the factory, not without being injured in the process. One limp leg was his price to pay.

He knew some experiments had became attached to you such as Doey, or Kissy Missy hell even Pianosaurus only gave any glimpse of response to you... He knew you would not immediately die there but you were now right at Harley's arms.

When all of the authorities arrived and he gave his testimony, obviously false and manipulated.

Years passed by and he didn't have any news of you or if you even where alive. He had founded his own new company, similar to playtime but way more discreet and simple. With no horrific experiments and most importantly not you.

One day, while cleaning his apartment he found s photo of Elliot Ludwig, now dead and the other executives. In that photo you were in between him and Sawyer. You looked calm and healthy. No like his last memory of you in which you looked exhausted, disoriented and frantic.

That made him do something he never though to do. He decided to contact an ex employee and ask for him to go to the factory. To search for the secrets of playtime urging him to discover what happened (what happened to you).

Little did he knew that that letter would change everything inside of the abandoned factory...

I redesigned Leith Pierre (I'm awful at the first version of the designs) and gave Y/N an appearance. {You can imagine Y/N with whatever characteristics you want, I did the drawing based on an oc}

Leith showing (Y/N) the Pianosaurus commercial (he's very proud)

-Unedited fanfic-

[gin-juice-tonic]

Not to talk too much about it, but when I was younger I made a new friend. We got close fast and spent a ton of time together. We were always drawing things for each other and passing notes back and forth in class. We emailed back and forth nearly 24/7. She would tell me serious things about her life and I was the only one who knew them. We were best friends.

Except there were times where suddenly she'd just drop me. Say she didn't want to be friends anymore. Ignore me in public, not respond to my emails (I didnt have a phone). Speak callously to me when she did talk to me. I can't say what it actually was that made her decide when to do this, but when she was over at my house it seemed like the minute I was unable to entertain her that switch would be flipped. Suddenly she'd want nothing to do with me. I felt like I had to become more and more entertaining. I always had to have something planned to do. I always had to have something to talk about. I always had to make her smile. Or I'd run the risk of being dropped.

I was used to this idea. For the neighborhood kids I grew up with, if I wasn't able to make them laugh on my own, I would be used to make them laugh. They'd make fun of me till I ran home crying. About anything. For existing. I was always forced by my parents to go back out and apologize to them for ruining the fun. I knew how it went. I knew it was my fault.

To return to my best friend, I remember we sat next to each other at lunch. On one of the occasions where she was treating me coldly, she sat next to me but only talked to everyone at the table except for me. I cried at the table. Nobody there cared. This would repeat in other settings. At home. In the classroom. Wherever. I cried. Nobody cared.

She never re-joined the friendship on her own. I always had to get her to come back. Beg her to come back.

Something she used to say to me was "I wish I was somebody's favorite person." I'd tell her "You're one of my favorite people!" (I had another best friend at the time, so there was no number one slot). My response didn't matter. Or maybe i didnt matter. It felt like she was wanting me to say she was my absolute favorite. And I spent so much time trying to appease her it probably seemed that way. And it really did separate me from my other friend for a time.

This went on for several years.

Ford and Bill admittedly shoot me back to this time.

Getting sucked into a desperate bid to keep someones favor to the extent where you lose yourself can happen to anybody in any kind of relationship... I just wanted to share that. I know I talked too much about it in the end.

[doublescittker]

ᴛʜᴇɴ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪʀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ᴏɴ.

toxic yaoi is back yayyy /sar

A quickie before I head to bed, just dumping out what's in my notes app..

---

The world had come to an end.

At least, that's how it felt for Truthless Recluse—once known as Pure Vanilla. The name, a whisper of who he had been, was now a bitter reminder of what was lost. In his heart, the earth had collapsed beneath him, leaving only an abyss. What did he have left now?

His kingdom, once vibrant with hope, was nothing but dust. His friends? They were nothing more than fractured memories, shattered by the choices he had made. Every day, he trudged through an endless cycle of servitude to Shadow Milk Cookie, a creature whose very existence repulsed him. And yet, here he was—bound by a promise, bound by an unspoken need for validation that he could never quite place.

The suffocating weight of his failure was unbearable. He had been the one to fail. The kingdom had crumbled, his friendships had decayed, and the one person who he had once trusted—who he thought might save him—was now the very cause of his destruction. And yet, here he was, serving the one who had taken everything from him. A fool. His heart twisted with the bitterness of it. How had he let this happen? How had he allowed this jester to seep into his world, twist it, and destroy it piece by piece?

Truthless Recluse had always been a god of truth, a being who prided himself on his ability to forgive, to see past the sins of others. But no more. The simple act of forgiving had become a cruel joke, one he had long outgrown. He had forgiven White Lily Cookie for the destruction of his beloved kingdom. He had forgiven those who called him weak, who mocked him, who turned their backs on him when he needed them most. He had smiled, moved on, tried to understand, even when his heart had broken with every step.

But now, he realized the truth. Forgiveness had only made him weaker. And there was one thing he had never been able to forgive—himself.

The idea gnawed at him endlessly. He had failed, and there was no escaping that fact. He had failed his kingdom, his friends, and most painfully, himself. The weight of that failure pressed down on him, suffocating him, until it became a living, breathing thing. Every corner he turned, every glance he cast, reminded him of what he had lost. The jester, Shadow Milk Cookie, the one he had once pledged his allegiance to, had become the final nail in the coffin.

And now, Truthless Recluse was left alone with his guilt, his rage, and the eerie feeling that the world had abandoned him altogether.

The twisted corridors of the fortress were silent, but they echoed with his thoughts. A massive spiral of stone, unyielding and cold, stretching endlessly upwards. He had never liked it here. The walls seemed to close in around him with every step, and the darkness felt alive, watching, waiting for him to falter. The very air in the place felt thick with shadows, each turn threatening to pull him deeper into despair. He could hear the voices in his head, the whispers of those he had once known, accusing him, blaming him for everything that had gone wrong.

It was his fault. He had promised to stay by Shadow Milk Cookie's side forever, but that promise felt like a shackle now. The weight of it was unbearable, suffocating him from the inside. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape it.

Hatred. It was a feeling he had never fully understood before, but now it coursed through him like fire. He had always been a being of understanding, of reason, of truth. But now, as the darkness spread within him, hatred seemed like the only emotion that made sense. It was easy to grasp, easy to embrace. It gave him something to hold onto when everything else slipped through his fingers.

As he walked, his thoughts consumed him. He had forgiven everyone, but it had never been enough. White Lily Cookie, his closest allies, the ones who had once stood by him, all of them had turned against him. He had forgiven them, tried to understand them, but all they had ever done was reinforce the idea that he was weak. That he was nothing. Even now, as he served Shadow Milk Cookie, he could feel the burn of that failure—of that rejection—coursing through his veins.

The feeling of being unwanted was like a wound that never healed, and Shadow Milk Cookie, the jester who had once been a friend, had become the source of that wound. Truthless Recluse couldn't escape him, no matter how far he tried to run.

Hatred. It was the only thing that felt real now. The only thing that kept him going. It was so easy to let it consume him, to give in to it completely. He no longer cared about being the better person. He didn't care about forgiveness. All he cared about was making the jester feel the weight of his actions.

"Vanilly!"

The jester's voice echoed down the hallway, pulling him from his thoughts. Truthless Recluse's eyes snapped upward, and there stood Shadow Milk Cookie, a mocking grin plastered across his face. Truthless Recluse's heart twisted with disgust. The sight of him, the way the jester seemed to take so much joy in his misery, sent a sharp pang through Truthless Recluse's chest.

"Still up so late?" Shadow Milk Cookie asked, his voice dripping with mockery. "Why can't you sleep?"

Truthless Recluse couldn't respond right away. His breath caught in his throat, and he fought to keep the surge of emotions at bay. He wanted to scream, to rage, to tear the jester apart. But he kept his composure, as he always did.

"Aren't you going to answer, Vanilly?" Shadow Milk Cookie cooed. "Something on your mind?"

That name again. Vanilly. Truthless Recluse had never wanted it. It made him feel small, like a joke. He was not some sweet, innocent being to be coddled. He had been Pure Vanilla—something more than this.

Truthless Recluse took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. "I don't adjust well to new spaces," he said, his voice flat, emotionless.

Shadow Milk Cookie's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Aww, really? How adorable! But something tells me you have more than that on your mind, Vanilly."

Truthless Recluse felt his patience snap. He had had enough. He had been patient long enough, and the anger that had been bubbling beneath the surface finally spilled over.

"You act as if you didn't do anything at all to keep me here," Truthless Recluse spat, his voice growing sharper with each word. "You act as if I'm the one who's the problem, when you are the one who destroyed everything just to earn my obedience. My friendship. My loyalty. All of it was a game to you."

Shadow Milk Cookie's grin faltered for a moment, but it quickly returned, a sharp edge to it. "Excuse me?" the jester sneered. "You think your accusations mean anything? You think your words will cut me, Vanilly? I'm not some mortal, weakling like the ones you surrounded yourself with before. You think I'll be moved by your silly depression?"

Truthless Recluse's hands clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms. "You think this is all my fault?!" The words erupted from him like a burst of flame, his anger igniting with every syllable. "You think I'm the problem? You're the one who came into my life, took everything from me, and expect me to just... accept it? To just forgive you again?"

Shadow Milk Cookie's face twisted with cruel amusement. "Oh, but that's just it, isn't it?" he mocked. "You're so desperate for someone to blame. Well, I'm sorry, Vanilly, but you brought this upon yourself. You became me in the end. I didn't make you what you are. You did that all on your own."

Truthless Recluse's heart pounded, and the pressure in his chest threatened to crush him. His skin began to crack, like a shattered mirror, as his body trembled with the force of his emotions. The black, twisted mass of anger and despair that had been brewing inside him for so long erupted in a violent explosion. His form stretched, distorted, breaking apart, and from the cracks in his skin poured a dark, shadowy substance—his rage taking physical form.

"You think I've become you?!" Truthless Recluse roared, his voice now like a thunderclap. "No, you are nothing but an abomination! You should never have been created. You have taken everything from me, and now you expect me to simply accept it?" His voice grew louder, his body shifting more grotesquely with each passing second.

The darkness that began to writhe and free itself from his body pulsated with hot rage, the shackles of the promise, the vow he made, breaking with each piece of dough that turned into the creature he was slowly turning into. Shadow Milk Cookie backed away in disgust in fear, ready to fight at any given moment.

But it was far too late to suppress anything. The cookie-body Truthless Recluse once possessed was now a body of hate.

The Embodiment of Anger. Of Blame. Of Envy. It was incomparable, uncomprehendingly terrifying.

The creature that Truthless Recluse had become towered over Shadow Milk Cookie, its form pulsating with dark energy, eyes that were all too many, all too wide, staring at the jester with nothing but contempt.

The jester's face twisted in fear. He staggered back, his eyes wide, as he realized the true extent of the transformation before him. The creature that stood before him was no longer Truthless Recluse. It was the embodiment of all the hate, the pain, and the despair he had buried inside himself for so long.

"Then become the dirt I walk on," the creature whispered, its voice low and chilling, reverberating through the very air. "Become nothing."

And with that, Shadow Milk Cookie's world began to crumble, his entire existence swallowed by the darkness that Truthless Recluse had become.

It seems that everyone has consequences to pay. 

Even the God of Truth had his own secrets.

--------

guess how long that story was in my notes app for. GUESS.

2 months and I don't even like it all that much.

[justcallmemrslupin]

My problem with the Marauders fandom

I usually say that ATYD was the worst thing that ever happened to Potterheads ("Harry Potter" fandom) and specially to Lupin Lovers (Remus Lupin fans). I don't actually think it is the worst, but you know what I mean. And it's not just ATYD, but most of Marauders fanfiction (well, they're mostly ATYD fanfics, to be honest).

It really disturbs me, because that's NOT Remus Lupin at all:

Lyall Lupin being an abusive father and Remus being raised in an orphanage or whatever that was? No!! Absolutely not! Lyall and Hope were loveable parents, who did everything they could for their son. They became outcasts because of his lycanthropy, and that's the reason behind Remus putting people at arm's length and feeling unworthy of love. He knew what would become of anyone who was too attached to a werewolf.

Remus being assertive and exploding at his friends. Uh... Nope. He was a boy who'd never had friends. Having friends had always been his biggest dream. So, he didn't agree with many of the things they did, but he cut them an awful lot of slack because he didn't want do lose them. It was the only time when he felt happy before "Prisoner of Azkaban" - when he had friends. Dumbledore made him prefect so that he would control them, which he didn't! He even remained friends with Sirius after he used him as a weapon against Snape! (Well, maybe he wouldn't remain friends with him if it didn't mean losing James and Peter's friendship too, but that's just a theory.)

‌Remus being a walking time bomb before the full moon. Remus? Really? Remus Lupin, the most self-controlled of all "Harry Potter" characters?! The guy always tamed his human form because he couldn't tame his wolf form. The moon only affected him when it was actually full.

‌The whole Wolfstar thing... Okay, I admit I don't like non-canon ships in general, except when one of them is an OC (most people hate OCs, but I love them, I read most anything Remus/OC - and write it). And as a woman, I mostly have no interest in Slash (M/M) - I do love Grindelore, but that's because it's Canon and their story fascinates me.

But my problem with Wolfstar is more than just a personal inability to like non-canon pairings. It's the fact that I can't get pass the fact that Sirius never cared much for Remus. He was his friend, sure, but he didn't act as a person in love, not for a second:

1. He wished for a full moon when he was bored. Of course Remus answered "darkly". He felt bad for him wishing it. And he suggested that he studied with him, but Sirius dismissed him.

2. The so-called prank (the biggest problem of them all): okay, I can't even begin to say how problematic this is even for a friendship, but for a couple... It would be extremely toxic, don't you think? Do you really think that a teenager in love would reveal his love interest's biggest secret to their worst enemy? And that was the least of it. He didn't care about what would become of Remus had he attacked Snape. The least that could happen would him being expelled (and knowing how society felt about werewolves, probably Remus would end up being executed). Of couse Sirius didn't think of it. But he definitely would if he was in love with him. It was something really cruel to do with a friend, but with a boyfriend... I don't even have the words to describe how toxic it would be to use your significant other as a weapon and expose their biggest secret.

3. He didn't leave him anything in his will. Anything. Even knowing that he was living in extreme poverty because of Umbridge's law against werewolves working. Sirius knew about that. It was Sirius himself who told Harry about it - and Harry was mad, because Lupin looked more ragged than ever. Now, I can understand that Sirius would forget about his friend - it's bad? It is, but it's on character. -, but about a lover? Never! Sirius was too intense for that. He loved James with all his heart and would do anything for him. But nor for Remus. Oh, by the way, James helped Remus financially when he couldn't work after finishing Hogwarts. Yep. He did it. Sirius didn't even leave him anything in his freaking will!

4. They didn't trust each other. They were supposed to be friends, but Sirius literally told James not to trust Lupin and to trust Pettigrew instead. Again, would he do that if he was in love with Remus?

Plus:

- Sirius was always much closer to James than to Remus. They are always described as always being together (even by the teachers and Madam Rosmerta. Not once is Remus mentioned.) and Harry had the impression that he was the only person who could make James change his mind;

- Dumbledore referred to Harry as the person Sirius loved the most. Harry. Not Remus. Harry.

- Sirius was the walking stereotype of the "bad boys" from the 80's/90's: long hair. motorcycle, ignoring the girls who were swooning for him, posters of girls in bikini in his bedroom (even when he grew up and Remus was actually a guest in his house), arrogant, popular, reckless... Totally "alpha male" and "heterotop" vibes.

- It's stated in Lupin's biography on the official "Harry Potter" website that he had never fallen in love before falling for Tonks.

- It's also said there that Sirius "always got the women".

But it's not just Remus. They made everyone act off-character: they made Sirius feminine, James soft and Peter a sweet boy who was forced to betray his friends. Not to mention poor Lyall Lupin and even Dumbledore. And what's with the obsession about making everyone queer? It was the 70's, for Merlin's sake! Not the 2020's!

My biggest problem is not the fanfiction per se. Fanfiction exists to make fans happy, I also read and write them. The problem is the fandom, trying to shove it down everyone's throat, pretending it's canon and even spreading fake news about the actors who played Sirius and Lupin, being aggressive to anyone who doesn't agree with them, and saying things like: "Lupin and Tonks had a lavender marriage" (yeah, because in lavender marriages one gets depressed over the other's rejection, leaves her newborn baby and runs into a war because she couldn't stand not knowing if her husband was dead, or - this is awesome - an unplanned pregnancy! LOL), "Tonks morphed into Sirius" (really? She never morphed into a man in the books, the furthest she went was disguising herself as an old lady, do you really think she even could morph into a man?), or - this is my favorite - "J. K. Rowling accidentally wrote them as a couple"! LOL This is hilarious. How can anyone "accidentally" write something?

And then, there are the people who choose to ignore canon. Okay, that's a valid option. Just don't go around saying that you like "Harry Potter". You don't. Your fanfics are about ATYD, not "Harry Potter" at all, because those characters are NOT from "Harry Potter", they only share the same names.

I could go on forever about this. But I won't I can't afford a lawyer. :P

The thing is: Marauders fanfiction is not "Harry Potter" fanfiction anymore, it's ATYD fanfiction. Only the names are the same, but those characters are definitely not from "Harry Potter", they're just all OCs.