#and they have clearly realized that they have pretty heavy romantics feelings for each other

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Editor’s note: This hypothetically open letter was originally posted by its anonymous author on Medium and was rapidly removed as “hate speech.” We found it to be a refreshing dose of honesty, a charming and relatable open letter from one parent to other parents (not to the child, obviously!) about dealing with a challenging and dangerous moment in raising children, especially “weird” adolescents who search for their identities harder than others and risk making life-damaging mistakes in a way never before possible. We are reposting it here on New Discourses with the permission of the author.

--

By: Donna M.

Published: Mar 5, 2021

My dear, sweet, son,

I’ve got to break it to you: you’re not trans, you’re just weird.

This seems like a cruel thing to point out right now. Clearly, you are struggling and feeling pretty awful about things. I can see that you are in a rough patch, and one of the first rules of parenting is to not pile on. The world is pretty heavy on your shoulders. You’re fifteen. There’s a pandemic going on. But here I come anyway. I’m about to throw more on you.

When you were two ­– a happy, chubby, little tyke in pull-ups, you watched the world with wary eyes behind the thumb in your mouth. You leapt with joy in the rhythm of the toddle music classes. You chattered and shared stories about your stuffed animals. You loved your little sister. Enjoyed cookies and finger painting. That was all pretty normal.

But you also started to count to one thousand on our walks. And you started to call out the store names as we drove around. And you preferred reading books rather than playing with the other two-year-olds at preschool. And you hated sitting in the circle when instructed. And you hated the feel of blue jeans. And you threw big tantrums when you lost any kind of game. In other words, you started to show signs that you were… weird.

The grandparents were the first to notice. They said gentle things like “You oughta keep an eye on that one,” and sent us links to Wall Street Journal articles about child prodigies. And then the other parents in the play groups started to comment; “He’s pretty intense, huh?” And the teachers were on to it pretty quickly. They started to use fancy terms like “asynchronous development.”

By third grade, we realized you were different, but we still didn’t realize you were weird. Truthfully, we’re used to people like you. Our family is full of engineers, artists, musicians, computer programmers, and a lot of “free-thinkers.” Family gatherings always have chess, political debates, and quartets around the piano. That’s just us.

And besides, you had a small but solid group of friends. There was Pokémon, then Minecraft, then Magic, then Dungeons and Dragons, then Catan. You were never in the center of things, but you weren’t alone.

But then, in middle school, things started to change. By 7th grade, school finally started to require some effort, and it turned out you were pretty disorganized. People kept calling you smart, but the teachers were annoyed at your humor, and frustrated that you wouldn’t or couldn’t follow the guidelines for assignments. Classmates didn’t appreciate your frank (if accurate) descriptions of their efforts. I’ll admit, we got pretty frustrated with you, too.

And then puberty arrived, with its triple curse of acne, braces, and bizarre growth. The girls appeared to have it all together (I know they don’t, but they do appear that way). And the popular boys seemed to know exactly what to do. They can talk sports to each other, they brag about their romantic exploits. They never get in trouble for stupid reasons like forgetting an assignment three times in a row. Your anxiety started to kick in, and it seemed like you got smaller. And some of your guy friends moved on.

So you drifted over to the weird-o crowd. Well — I’m not sure what you call yourselves, but that’s what we would have called you back when I was in school. At different schools these are the geeks, or the theater kids, the math team kids, or the artsy-fartsy kids. This used to be where the gay kids ended up, but I think they’re more dispersed now. You get some kids whose parents are going through some rough times. Some girls with anorexia. A few boys who are edgy and angry. Kids with a great sense of humor and big hearts.

And some of these kids are really passionate. Just full of righteous anger about the injustices of the world. And some of them are dramatic. And truthfully, that looks pretty attractive to you. Because you share some of that confusion and anger about the world. And though you may not be sure what you think or what you feel, you are certain you don’t want to be on the bad side. You certainly aren’t like those popular boys with their suave charm and dominating manners. You’re not like them at all.

You’re actually more like those vibrant girls who can speak for hours about their ideas. Well, you would be if you could find the words to speak. And there is something so fascinating about those girls, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. You’d never think about talking to those girls anyway, because that’d be weird. Because you are weird. You’ve never been good at chit-chat, or eye contact. Or girls. And besides, you wouldn’t want them to get the wrong impression. You understand that your peers are starting to date, but you really don’t see the point. Sex is still gross and weird to you. It’s better to just call yourself “asexual” or “pansexual.” It’s like a get-out-of-jail-free card that helps you avoid the whole mess. And your group of friends tell you that you are super cool and brave for being able to say that about yourself.

But you’ve fallen into a funk. Anyone can see that. But computer games help. And there’s always trying to beat the speed record for that one game you’re kinda good at. And that one guy on reddit always has good tricks. And the people on that message board seem to get your humor.

So when one of them posts a meme about trans rights, it makes sense that you’d check it out. You’re curious! You’re a free thinker! You’re not like the normies. And the web quiz hits home. You do feel discomfort with your body. You don’t like sports. You do wonder what it would be like to be a girl. You’ve always felt like something was different about you.

You’re right. There is something different about you.

But you’re not trans, you’re just weird.

So we’re right here for you. We’ll always be here for you. But those online folks who urge you to “crack your trans egg” and rush to hormones and surgeries don’t know you at all. They don’t know that gifted kids and ADHD kids and Autism kids and Asperger’s kids are slower to develop emotionally and sexually. They don’t know that sexuality takes time and experience to figure out, and that the majority of trans teens seeking medical treatment haven’t even masturbated or kissed someone yet. They don’t know that 80% of trans children end up becoming comfortable with their birth sex if you just give them time. They don’t know that there are increasing numbers of desisting and de-transitioning people in their twenties. They don’t realize that hormones permanently stunt your growth, decrease your IQ, and can cause sterility. They don’t know that these hormones are prescribed off-label and there’s no research on the long-term outcomes. They don’t even know that the most recent research shows that short-term outcomes are clearly worse.

They don’t realize that you’re weird. But I do. You’re weird, kiddo. You’ll figure that out in a year or two. But that’s okay. We are all weird. And I love you anyway. You’re going to be just fine.

==

You always hear stories and justifications like, "she never liked wearing a dress," or "he always hated having his hair cut." This is post-hoc confirmation bias. Not only does this confirm everything critics say about this being a movement based on gross stereotypes, but they always leave out things like, "she refused to eat anything yellow," and "he was obsessed with elevator and crossing buttons and would cry if he wasn't the one to light it up."

It's okay to be weird.

[licorice-tea]

I’m A Ghost Of You, You’re A Ghost Of Me

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x reader

Content: right person wrong time kind of (but not angsty!), fire/bonfire, first meetings, pre-romance dawn era, reader has some lore/has a bow and arrow/is from a noble family!

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This is loosely inspired by “San Luis” by Gregory Alan Isakov (which is where I got the title from, too.) It also kind of sets up for when Zoro and reader could meet again, so let me know if you want this to be a series!

Part 2

You and Zoro had known each other for a year before Luffy even set sail to chase his dream. Being a bounty hunter lead him to having connections, albeit reluctantly, and a sort of network of people who could get him things he needed. Information, a place to sleep, whatever.

One such connection was to a mildly corrupt marine officer who had asked him to take on a few jobs in the past. This time, the swordsman/pirate hunter had been asked to take on a sort of odd job, and he agreed because of the promise of a hefty reward. He’d landed on an island with a heavy marine presence, but wasn’t technically a wanted criminal himself (yet), so he wasn’t nervous. The place also reeked of nobility, so it was no surprise when a marine officer approached Zoro with a task as a favor to one of the noble families of the island.

“The l/n family… their heir is, how do I say this politely…” the marine looks over his shoulder at your father.

“They’re difficult. And this isn’t the first time they’ve left home, but they…” he sighs and rubs his temple. “They won’t come back unless someone makes them.”

“How old are they?” Zoro asks, looking for information on your skill level, how strong you are, what kind of weapon you carry, etcetera.

“18.” The same age as him (at the time.)

Zoro shrugs and crosses his arms. “18 is old enough to leave home. Just let them.”

“Please! They-they can’t just leave. There are pirates on the seas!” Your mother cries, but honestly she seems more angry than truly worried.

Your parents are hiding something, he can tell. And, he intends to find out. “Fine.”

They hand over a quarter of the reward money for your safe return, and show proof of the rest. Satisfied, Zoro takes what little information they’ve given about you and sets sail.

He finds you on a neighboring island, dancing the night away at some sort of beach party. You don’t seem particularly threatening, but you don’t appear naive or weak either. You’re not even doing anything wrong; to him, it just seems you want to live your life. Still, he watches you for the better part of an hour (as it would make him naive to equate your joy to weakness.) He tries to insert himself into the party scene, walking along the shoreline until he’s a part of the crowd. You’re dancing around a bonfire with some other partygoers, and when you finally turn in his direction, he’s mesmerized. Zoro never really considered himself a love at first sight kind of guy, nor a romantic in any way, but god are you pretty. The glow of the fire behind your illuminates the contours of your neck and shoulders, and the moonlight from above seems to make your eyes light up.

“Like stars.” he thinks to himself.

The swordsman is so lost in you that he doesn’t realize he’s staring. And by the time he does, you’re making your way over with a smile. He seems familiar to you, and around your age, so maybe you’d met him on one of your… previous escapades.

You had walked up to him with all the poise of nobility, but no hint of a feeling of superiority. “Hi!”

“…Hi.”

“Wanna dance?” you extend a hand, offering friendship and possibly more to the quiet man.

Zoro snaps out of his trance and uncrosses his arms. “That’s alright.” He silently wrests a hand on the 3 swords hanging from his hip.

Oh. Oh.

“Ah…” you retract your hand awkwardly and take to cradling your arms while looking away, toward the sea. “You’re that bounty hunter, I recognize you from the newspaper… Are you here to take me back?”

You’d clearly done this before, he realizes, as your previously bright smile turns bittersweet. “Yeah.”

“Hm.” your sullen expression turns to curiosity. “And if I refuse?”

“I don’t carry these as accessories.” he taps the hilt of one of the swords.

You laugh, genuinely amused by his dry response, and your hand comes to rest on something hooked over your shoulder. He had mistaken it for the strap of a bag, but upon closer inspection it was a bow. “Neither do I.”

So that’s how you survived so long on your own all the times you ran away, and why your parents were reluctant to speak of your capabilities in front of a marine. You were practically an outlaw already, assuming you were as skilled with your weapon of choice as you were charming.

“I’m not looking for a fight tonight.” This is half true- he had come prepared of course, but now that he had met you… Well, he’d rather get to know you first.

“What?” he asks as you continue looking at him. No, not just looking- observing.

“Hm, sorry, I just- Well, usually my parents send marines to collect me.” You take a hand off your bow and seem to relax again.

“And you let them?” Zoro asks, surprised.

You shrug. “I go back with them or I end up on a wanted list for assaulting a marine. And I don’t think I’m ready to be a wanted criminal yet.”

This time, he’s the one observing you. Again. You’re just a teenager, really. The same age as him- but with none of the freedom.

“Then why do you keep running away if you know you’ll be caught?”

He can see the gears turning in your head as you look at him with surprise. Nobody has ever asked why you keep trying to leave, people usually assume you’re just rebellious.

“I…” you swallow thickly, suddenly nervous. You weren’t used to being known- or seen, rather- for who you truly are. “Well, I have a dream.” You say this with a raised chin, clearly more prideful about your aspirations than your noble upbringing.

“Yeah?… Me too.” his response makes you smile again.

“What’s your dream then, bounty hunter?”

Zoro thinks for a moment, then smirks and raises his chin as if he’s offering you a deal, “I’ll tell you next time we meet, and when you’ve gotten started on yours.”

Your face lights up once again in a smile. “Thank you.”

He nods, “Don’t mention it.” And with that, he turns and strides across the shore, going who knows where. You watch as he goes in the opposite direction from where he came, until he’s on the other side of the bonfire from you. The flame gives his already tan skin a warm glow, and reflects off all 3 of his earrings and swords.

You grin and laugh quietly to yourself- not because anything is funny, you’re just amazed. Despite the amount of money you knew your parents had probably promised him, he wasn’t going to try and make you go back. (Not that he necessarily could, either.) Instead, he’d respected your decision as someone else with a dream- and as his equal. How very noble.

“I hope we meet again!” You call after him, and he looks back briefly. He’s on the other side of the bonfire now, and it illuminates your face as you wave goodbye. Your eyes really are like stars; and the embers flitting off the fire dance around you like the flares on the sun.

“Hell,” he smirks to himself, “you’re a whole universe.”

He waves back silently, not quite knowing how to convey these sudden feelings for a near stranger, but hoping you understand that he also wants to see you again someday.

A few months later, Zoro would see your face on a bounty poster. There were no serious crimes listed, besides evading arrest and unlicensed use of a weapon, which made him chuckle. He thinks of you often; wondering if you’re following your dream now, and if it has anything to do with being an archer, or if you ever thought of him the way he did you. He really did want to see you again someday. For now though: he’d continue pursuing his dream to be the world’s greatest swordsman, and keep on with his “job” as a pirate/bounty hunter.

But your bounty? Well, he had no intentions of collecting it.

[queenofthearchipelago]

Hiya! I've been following your blog for a while and can't help but notice that we share at least two fandoms. As a fellow suffering soul at the mercy of GO's season 2 finale, how are you doing?

First of all, know this ask made me smile and thank you so much for asking that. It's not every day in fandom life that we get a finale as heartbreaking and devastating as that and I love the people who have asked me how I'm doing about it. I love that this is a fandom where we're all supporting each other through all the heavy emotions.

I'm... I'm okay. Mostly. Probably. I think?

If you don't mind, I'm just genuinely gonna tell you how I feel about it. (Edit from the future, this got long, I'm so sorry lol) I went into this season expecting quiet, gentle, and romantic, and therefore, on that first watch-through, I was looking for quiet, gentle, and romantic. I didn't know what the season was going to be about other than that. I thought I was looking for the ways in which Crowley and Aziraphale were growing closer, and they did! But in that, I didn't know I was also supposed to be looking at the ways that they weren't communicating. I didn't know I was supposed to be looking at all the ways they clearly haven't healed from their traumas.

And so, when we got to that scene in the end, I was incredibly confused by Aziraphale. Crowley has always been my favorite character in this story, I relate to him most and I feel I always understand him. So I pretty quickly got his side of things. But Aziraphale... it just felt out of nowhere (and a little bit, it was. The Metatron really did just kinda show up and offer Az all of that) and it felt like I'd been betrayed a bit.

I thought Aziraphale had learned better about all of this at the end of season 1. That Crowley doesn't need to be an angel, he doesn't need to change. That Heaven is just as bad as Hell. That Heaven isn't exactly a system one person can just... fix. And for the first 5 episodes of this new season, I didn't recognize him struggling with any of this in the present day. He was happy and in love and he was okay with moving on.

And I was so confused why he was considering this, especially after seeing Crowley's reaction. And then after the kiss, Aziraphale still didn't really want to go to Heaven, he was gonna turn back. And he didn't because the Metatron rushed him. He went too fast. And I was so pained by it. Michael Sheen just ripped me apart with how he portrayed all the emotions Aziraphale was feeling. The microexpressions moved so fast it felt like I couldn't hold on to any one emotion any better than he could.

And so my heart was broken for Crowley, and I was confused and betrayed by Aziraphale. But I binged the entire season in one night, it was early morning when I finished it. I was tired, and I watched the season not actually knowing what I should have been looking for. And so I knew that it wasn't that Aziraphale was suddenly a bad character or something. I'm quite shocked by the people hating on Aziraphale's character. My first thought after I finished the season was literally, "I missed something. It's not Aziraphale's fault that I don't understand where that came from. I'm gonna have to rewatch this entire season when I'm more rested and watch it much slower. I'm gonna have to read all the meta written by people who still love and understand Aziraphale after this."

And that's what I did. I haven't rewatched the season yet, but I have been reading a lot of meta about Aziraphale's character written by people who genuinely seem to understand him. It highlighted a lot of things I'd missed the first time. The parallel between Lindsay and Nina and Heaven and Aziraphale. The fear that Aziraphale has been living in ever since Job, where he thinks he's crossed the line and deserves to fall. How his greatest temptation, in the eyes of Heaven, wasn't the food or giving away his sword, or lying. It was his relationship with Crowley.

I didn't realize how the purpose of the creation of the universe scene was that Aziraphale saw how happy Crowley was. And that he's willing to risk everything, his freedom and his beautiful life in the bookshop so that Crowley can be happy like that again. Because Aziraphale spent 6,000 years watching Crowley reject his own kind nature, his own impulse to do good, for the fear of Hell's punishment. It's not exactly that Aziraphale wants to change Crowley. It's that if Crowley was an angel, he could go back to freely being nice, and doing good. They could be together because there wouldn't be the threat of the Other Side coming for them and ripping them apart.

Aziraphale doesn't want to change Crowley. He loves Crowley. But he is still scared of what Heaven thinks of it. Heaven still thinks that angels and demons can't be together because they're on opposite sides. And the powers greater than them who believe this will always try to rip them apart.

He just wants a better world for Crowley. He wants Crowley happy and safe. Is this the way to do it, no. I think Crowley is right that Aziraphale can't change Heaven. I think Crowley is probably scared out of his mind right now that Aziraphale is going back into the lion's den. Because Crowley watched for 6,000 years as Aziraphale was manipulated by Heaven, he saw how scared his angel was. And now he's going back under some misguided understanding that it'll be different this time.

I think that's what Crowley was thinking about in the car in the end credits. I think it was part "I can't believe he chose Heaven over me, because he wants to fix Heaven FOR me, the idiot." and part "He's gonna be manipulated again. And when he realizes it, he's gonna be so scared."

All Crowley wants in this world is for Aziraphale to be okay. Wants him to be free and safe. Free to eat whatever he wants without guilt. Free to do good because he wants to, not because he's had his orders. Free to dance with a demon. Free to be an us. Because he watched Aziraphle be scared of these things for millennia. He watched his angel think he deserved to be a demon for it. And he doesn't. And now Aziraphale's gone back to a place where there is no food, he won't have the opportunity to do clever good deeds in human's lives (he'll be running heaven), and Crowley simply can't follow him back there.

But then, I also believe the metas that have noticed that both plans are unsustainable. Aziraphale won't be able to change the system. And Crowley couldn't keep them running forever. They'll have to find the secret third option to be free to be together safely for eternity, and that's what season 3 is gonna be about.

So, to circle back to your question, I'm not okay lol. But I will be. I believe that this is one of the best stories ever told, and the more I understand Aziraphale and Crowley's characters, the more the ending makes sense, and the more intrigued I am about what else I might have missed that I'll need to rewatch to figure out. The kiss still breaks my heart, but I wouldn't change a thing about it because it makes sense and it played out perfectly for their situations and who they are. It's beautiful in a heartbreaking way.

And I do have a sense of peace about all of it. Even when I had just finished the episode, I knew it was all going to be okay because that divorce was literally about how much they love each other. Crowley loves Aziraphale unconditionally. Neither of them have much experience with that. So Aziraphale struggles to accept it, and he's scared to show it back because what if it costs them everything. But Crowley doesn't struggle like that. He's been left behind on earth, for now. But I have no doubt that as soon as his angel needs him, he'll be there.

Aziraphale will probably say he's sorry. And Crowley's just gonna give him a hug, tell him he loves him, that he's not gonna say I forgive you because neither of them need forgiveness. Not anymore.

It actually feels really good having written all this out like this, I've not talked about good omens much, even though I've been reblogging a lot. I'd love to talk to you more about all of it, if you want. And of course, I want to ask you how are YOU doing? What are your thoughts on all of this? How are you holding up? My ask box and my messages are always open!

[colbridgertons]

1x03||2x12 

Inspired by something I saw from @dorothy-williams and cannot for the life of me find again. Either way. this is your fault :) 

[watchmegetobsessed]

THE DEAL

a/n: i literally wrote it in less than a day because i was inspired by a movie... of god, i have issues, but ANYWAYS! this one is a classic friends with benefits to lovers story with so much angst and a grandiose love confession at the end so buckle up, you are in for a treat!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEASE give feedback if you enjoyed it!!

pairing: Harry X Reader

warnings: some, drinking, sexual content, a hell lot of it, angst and messy emotions, it’s a lot!!

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

If your life was some romantic comedy his would be the moment where the camera would zoom on you, your eyes blankly glued to the ceiling, makeup from last night smudged under them as a muscular, inked arm gets thrown across your chest, a snoozing man beside you as you have the internal little monologue.

“You’re wondering how I got into this situation, right? Completely naked with one of my best friends after a night spent with heavy drinking and ending up fucking in his apartment until we both fell asleep.”

Yeah, this is probably what the voiceover would say as the camera would slowly get farther from you, Harry’s sleeping figure coming into the frame while you’re still lying like a damn statue. This was not supposed to happen. Not that it was bad, because oh God! Harry really is as good as his ex-girlfriends gushed to you when you met them on night outs. You could never blame the women for falling for him, he has the charm, the personality, the humor and definitely the looks. If you weren’t you, you’d be one of those girls who would do anything to get his attention just for a split second. But you’re not.

Growing up with a single mother that was repeatedly fucked over by several men, you were taught to be the kind of independent woman who needs no man. Who only uses them for whatever reason and throws them away before they could even realize what’s happening. Feelings could never be involved in the equations, those are just not for you.

For a while you thought you weren’t even capable of feeling anything at all. But the way you cried when your hamster you got for your sixteenth birthday died changed your mind and you realized that you are just saving yourself the time of allowing people to make you develop feelings for them and then give them the chance to break your heart. You’ve seen that happen to your mother enough times to know that you don’t want to go through that. It’s not worth it and why would you risk it all when you could easily get what you need and move on to the next one?

Your friends always joked how you’re gonna be the single aunt to their children later who would take them to clubs and honestly? You’re just fine with that. Because you always thought that while your married friends will be busy with keeping their marriage together with whatever pathetic man they chose to marry, you’ll be living your best life without a worry on the world. That sounds pretty good for you.

There’s no need to make it prettier than what it is, you’ve had a lot of hookups the past years but you always tried to keep yourself in check, have some kind of rules to follow so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else in the process. One of those were that under no circumstances would you ever sleep with a friend. No matter how badly you want to, no matter if they are begging, it can never happen.

But you broke that rule.

Turning your head to the side you look at Harry’s sleeping face squished into the pillow and you almost wince, because you know that when he wakes up, this gonna hurt like a bitch. He’s gonna freak out, or what’s worse, he’ll want to take it further, take you out on a date… be in a relationship with you! And you’ll have to break his heart because none of those will ever happen.

You and Harry went to high school together and he is one of the very few people you stayed in touch after graduation. Though you grew a little apart when you went to different universities, later on you both somehow ended up in New York and while you’re working as a graphic designer at a magazine, Harry is making good money from writing music for other artists. He’s been one of your closest friends these past years and while you’ve always found him attractive, you should have never let this happen, because it will mess everything up and you didn’t want to lose such a good friend.

Harry stirs in his sleep next to you, his hand squeezing your side before his eyes blink open, green irises finding your wide eyes. He stops for a moment, looking around, taking in his surroundings before his eyes fall closed again.

“Wow, must have been one wild night?” he mumbles into the pillow before a raspy chuckle falls from his lips.

Last night, the two of you and a couple of your mutual friends celebrated that Harry has gotten his biggest deal so far, having to write an entire album for an up-and-coming artist, so you all got pretty wasted, especially you and him. It’s a little blurry how the two of you ended up like this, but you do remember wildly making out hidden somewhere behind the bar before he asked if you wanted to come to his place. You stupid little thing, should have said no…

Groaning, Harry rolls to his back, his arm falling from you as he lies sprawled out next to you.

“The tequila shots. Shouldn’t have had them,” you rasp out, a smirk tugging on his lips at your words. “So, um… we both can agree this was a one time thing, right?”

Harry peeks at you, pushing himself up a bit so his head rests against the headboard. The sheets slide down a bit lower on his body, revealing his toned chest and his several tattoos. Memories of you kissing them eagerly last night flash into your mind and you can only hope you’re not blushing like a school girl.

“What if I don’t agree?” Harry cocks an eyebrow and you almost groan. You knew this was going to happen!

“Harry, I’m not going out with you. You know me, I don’t do that. It’s nice that you think that it could work between us, but I don’t do relationships and I’m not changing my rules, not even for you.”

Harry starts laughing, as if you just said the best joke of the century, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You give him a puzzled look as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest.

“Who talked about dating, Y/N?” he then asks. “You said last night was a one time thing. We fucked last night. What if that wasn’t the only time we did that?”

You start to put the pieces together, though you’d definitely be sharper if you already had your first coffee of the day.

“Are you trying to start a… friends with benefits thing with me?”

“I mean, you could call it whatever you want. I personally really enjoyed last night and judging from the way you were screaming my name, you did too.” Now you’re for sure blushing. “Why not do it again?”

“This is not a movie, H. I don’t think it’s manageable without ruining our friendship.”

“Have you ever tried something like this?” You shake your head no. “Then how could you know?”

“Have you tried it?”

“Never,” he chuckles. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. We are both cool, smart people. I think we can give it a try and whenever someone is feeling like they had enough, we’re just gonna stop.”

“What if you catch feelings?” you ask, raising eyebrows at him.

“Oh, but what if you fall for me?” he throws the question back with a cocky smirk and you smack his naked chest.

“You know I never do that!”

“I don’t think you can just decide that, but alright,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. “I promise you I won’t catch feelings for you, Y/N. I swear on my…”

“Your mom’s and sister’s life!” you point at him. It’s clear that he thinks it’s silly, but you just keep staring at him until he gives in.

“I swear on my mum’s and my sister’s life that I will not catch feelings for you, Y/N.”

“Alright. And we can end it anytime?”

“Whenever you’ve had enough of me,” he smirks back, so pleased with himself that it’s clear he doesn’t think that could ever happen.

“If you keep that cocky look on your face it’s gonna be a very short deal, Styles,” you warn him, but he just laughs before he quickly pulls you back down to bed, getting on top of you, his hips sinking between your legs and you gasp when you feel that he is already semi-hard.

“Why don’t we get a head start on it then?” he offers, his lips crashing against yours before they travel down your body and soon enough he gives you something that’s a thousand times better than a coffee in the morning.

At first you’re clearly hesitant about it. Not sure if it was a good idea or you just ruined everything between you and Harry, but soon enough you realize that it wasn’t as bad of a decision as you thought it to be.

Harry is the one to call you for the first time, two days after the night you drunkenly hooked up. You’re just leaving the office when he hits you up, asking if you have plans for the night or you’re free to go over to his place. An hour later you find yourself pressed up against the wall of his apartment’s hallway, both of you eager to get each other out of your clothes. Now that it all happens without either of you being drunk, you actually have the chance to think about how good it is with him. He is just the perfect mixture of dominant and soft, knows when to be the boss and when he has to slow down a bit.

He makes you cum three times. Three mind-blowing times, and you also give him two orgasms. You try to make it equal and make it three, but he respectfully says no.

“If you touched my dick again I think I would start crying,” he chuckles jokingly, so you don’t even think about pushing it.

Instead, the two of you order Chinese, have dinner together, talking like you always used to before the deal and then you go home. There’s no awkwardness, no weird situations, not even when you leave. Harry leans closer and for a moment you think he is gonna be corny and kiss you goodbye, but then you feel him smack your ass before pushing you out the door, just like he always did before, joking about how he is gonna charge you rent if you stay any longer.

Nothing has changed, only that you now spend a good chunk of your time together naked, moaning each other’s name before you get back to your usual.

So after that you don’t shy away from reaching out to Harry as well. It becomes a regular thing, the two of you meeting up about two of three times a week. You fuck, hang out a bit and go your separate ways. Slowly, you start to forget about times when you stayed dressed up for more than ten minutes after meeting Harry.

You keep switching between your and his place, but sometimes meet somewhere in the middle. You’ve had sex in a restaurant bathroom, in his car in a parking garage and even in his cousin’s place in Brooklyn. That was a bit odd but still quite pleasing.

Tonight is going to be the first time you’re gonna be out with all your friends and Harry since the deal was made. No one knows about it and you intend to keep it that way.

Once you’re done at work you head home, texting Leticia, another friend from high school to meet you at your place to get ready together. She was Harry’s friend at first, what’s better, she openly hated you at first for some reason.

“You just had a punchable face at fifteen, you can’t blame me,” she used to tell you. It was actually Harry who made the two of you friends and you’ve been close ever since.

You get to your apartment almost at the same time. Leticia starts rambling about her asshole of a boss at the law firm where she works at as you open a bottle of wine to start the evening while you roam through your wardrobe for an outfit.

“Is Leo coming? I owe him a few bucks from last time,” Leticia wonders, digging into your dresser for a pair of tights she can borrow to pair with her leather skirt.

“I think he is, but he is going to be late. He is coming from Staten Island from his dad’s,” you muse, checking yourself out in the red dress you just tried on, not quite pleased with the look, so you quickly work down the zipper and look for something else.

“Um, whose is this?”

Turning around you see that Leticia is holding up a shirt Harry left at yours a few days ago. She is clearly confused about the men’s clothing between your stuff, because you are not one to steal them from the men you sleep with since you don’t really want anything from them to remind you of them.

“Oh, um, that’s… That’s Harry’s. He left it here a few days ago,” you shrug, not making a big deal out of it, but Leticia is nosier than that.

“And why is Harry leaving his clothes around your place?”

“Is that a crime?” you snort, trying to play it cool.

“No, but in what kind of situation did this shirt come off of Harry and end up in your dresser?”

You can’t think of a good answer that would stop her from interrogating you, and the way you’ve just gotten silent is telling her more than words could. She drops the shirt, eyes widening at you and it’s clear that she put two and two together.

“Oh my God! You’re sleeping with Harry!”

“No! I’m… I just—We…”

“You two are totally fucking! What the fuck!” she gasps in complete shock as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Let me explain it, alright? W-We hooked up on the night when we went out to celebrate his big album deal.”

“When I couldn’t go, right?”

“Yeah. So we were both very drunk and it just happened. And I really thought it would ruin everything but we somehow ended up making a deal.”

“Jesus, you guys are acting out the Friends With Benefits movie? Who are you, Mila fucking Kunis?”

“It’s not like that!” you defend yourself quickly, but then you realize that it’s just like that so far. “Well, it kind of is, but the ending won’t be like that.”

“Do you really think you can just do it with absolutely no strings?” Leticia sighs, her hands coming to her hips as she stares back at you.

“It’s been going great, so I really think it’s doable. And if any of us decides they had enough, we’ll just call it quits.”

“Yeah, because it’s that easy,” she rolls her eyes. “One of you will catch feelings and someone is gonna end up crying, Y/N.”

“No, that’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head stubbornly. “He promised it won’t happen.”

“Feelings don’t give a shit about promises! I hope you really know what you’re doing, because I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you,” she grumbles before throwing Harry’s shirt back into the drawer, grabbing the tights she’s been looking for.

Leticia doesn’t hold a grudge for the news she just found out, but she surely has gotten you thinking. Is it really gonna end bad? Why can’t there be a scenario where it goes perfectly fine and no one gets hurt? Harry promised it’s gonna be alright and he has been proven right so far, so why are you having second guesses now?

Arriving at the bar the majority of your friend group is already there, including Harry. You sit across him in the small booth, just exchanging a quick smile before the first round arrives and the evening starts. You allow yourself to take a better look at him while he listens to Mitch’s story and you can’t say that you don’t find him hot. He is wearing a vintage, floral printed shirt, the first few buttons left undone, so you have a nice view of his chest and his necklace you’ve felt under your lips so many times before when you were kissing down his body. He keeps twisting and playing with his several rings and it makes you stare at his hands for a tad bit longer than you intended to. God, he looks so damn good, you really just want to fuck him here and now.

You keep changing who goes up to the bar to order and the third round is yours, so sliding out of the booth you go to the bar and wait for your turn. A young, handsome guy is making the drinks and you clearly catch his eyes.

“And what can I get for you, beautiful?” he smirks at you when it’s finally your turn.

“Two vodka sodas, a martini and three vodka cranberries,” you smile back at him with a hint of flirting in your tone.

It’s kind of second nature to you, a few charming smiles and winks have gotten a lot of free things for you in your life and you never miss a chance to use your advances.

“All that for one pretty girl?” he teases you.

“I would be all over the floor if I drank all of it,” you chuckle, pulling your card out of your wallet, tapping it on the terminal as he finishes up the drinks, kindly putting them on a tray so you can easily bring them over to the booth.

“Don’t worry, I would surely pick you up then,” he winks at you, placing the last drink to the tray before you thank him and head back.

As you take your previous seat you notice that Harry is watching you intently.

“What?” you mouth him over the conversation at the table.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, turning his gaze away, grabbing his drink and focusing back on everyone else.

You go up to the bar two more times, once to ask for some chips and once for some napkins after a drink has gotten spilt onto the table. Every time you exchange a few words with the bartender and you have to admit, he has a great sense of humor paired with his looks.

Sometime later in the evening you decide to switch to water, so you go up to the bar a fourth time, the bartender coming to you right away at this point. As you wait for him to grab you your drink you feel a hand on your lower back. Turning to the side you see Harry standing next to you.

“Hey, want to come to my place after this?” he asks, leaning closer to your ear. His hot breath hits your exposed skin on your neck and a shudder runs down your spine, especially with his hand still on the small of your back.

“You want a rerun of your first time?” you smirk back at him, referring to the drinks you both have had, though it’s definitely not as wild as that night was.

“No, but this dress is making it hard not to want to rip it off,” he bluntly tells you as you glance down at yourself. At last you decided to wear a black bodycon dress that surely shows every dip and curve of your body and apparently Harry has been enjoying the show.

The bartender arrives with your water, his eyes falling on Harry and you see that he is a little taken aback by his presence.

“Hey man, can you get me another one as well? I’ll pay for both,” Harry nods at him and there’s something foreign in his tone that you can’t really put your finger on. The bartender just nods back and goes to grab another water.

“What if I wasn’t in the mood?” you tease him, continuing the discussion where you left it a moment ago.

“Oh, please!” he chuckles smugly. “I saw you eyeing me from across the table, Y/N. I know you are definitely in the mood.”

He is right. So damn right. You’ve been crossing your legs under the table for a while now, feeling your arousal growing every time you saw him run his tongue over his lips or whenever his finger played with the lip of his glass, imagining him doing the same with your body.

Biting into your bottom lip you need to take a deep breath, but when Harry sees your teeth digging into your lip, he loses his patience.

“Or we can just do it now,” he growls lowly, grabbing your hand before he starts pulling you towards the restrooms. You don’t even have the chance to protest, not that you want to.

He is quick to pull you into an empty restroom, locking the door behind the two of you before his lips attack yours, pushing you against the door with vigor and hunger. His hands are already bunching your dress up around your waist and you moan his name when your hips meet and you feel his hard length through his jeans.

“We have to be quick, so no one notices we disappeared,” he pants as he helps you up to the counter, your back hitting the cold mirror behind you.

“Then shut up and just fuck me,” you challenge him and it makes him absolutely feral.

You don’t have time to enjoy it the way you usually do in bed, but the excitement of the situation alone has gotten you so wet that you’re already dripping when he pushes your panties to the side with one hand while his other works on his own pants.

“Fuck, already so wet for me, huh?” he breathes out, his lips brushing against yours before they kiss you fully.

“Just like how you’re rock hard for me,” you grin against his lips, a hand wandering down to his cock as you pull it out of his boxers, stroking it a few times before he pulls a condom out of his back pocket and wraps himself up. “Were you counting on this quickie, Styles?” you ask when you realize that he just had a condom ready on him.

“I knew for sure I’m gonna fuck you tonight, but wasn’t sure how long I’m gonna last,” he grins, capturing your lips again before he pushes himself inside you with no warning, making you both gasp.

“Fuck! Harry!” you moan as he starts moving rapidly, definitely not taking his time like he usually does. He is pounding into you without mercy, panting against your lips as his ring clad fingers are digging into the flesh of your thighs.

“You like that? Like it when I fuck you somewhere public?” he growls, making your legs curl around his hips.

Your hands move up his chest and neck, fingers tangling into his curls and you give them a tug, earning an animalistic grunt from him as he starts going even harder and faster. You’re rapidly getting closer to your orgasm.

“You close?” he pants and you nod. “Come on, cum all over my cock, Y/N.”

A few more thrusts and your walls tighten around his dick, squeezing him as you gasp, riding your high, your head falling backwards, meeting with the mirror behind you. Harry follows you a few pushes later, moaning your name repeatedly before his movements come to a halt and you both take a moment to catch your breath.

When he pulls out you both just quietly clean yourselves up, fixing your clothes and hair so you don’t entirely scream sex with your appearances.

“My offer to come to mine after still stands,” he smirks, running a hand through his hair before you head out.

“Tempting, but I have some work to do in the morning, so no,” you turn him down, stepping out to the dark hallway that leads back to the bar. Harry grabs your hand and pulls you back, his lips smashing against yours, surprising you with his move. He kisses you deeply, sucking on your bottom lip hard before he pulls back.

“What was that for?” you ask out of breath.

“If you’re not coming over, I needed something to have a good night,” he shrugs with a smug smirk before you return to the bar.

You catch the bartender’s look as you finally get your waters and Harry pays for them. You catch the two men eyeing each other for a moment before you and Harry return to the table and you forget about the whole thing.

A Sunday afternoon you’re lounging at Harry’s. You jumped at each other’s bones when you arrived, but now you’re chilling on his couch, watching a series you both wanted to start so you decided to give it a go together. Your leg is lying across Harry’s lap, his hands absentmindedly kneading your thighs. It feels nice, like a massage, especially after how sore he made you earlier, stretching you out more than he usually does with a new pose you tried out.

Your phone chimes next to you and tearing your gaze away from the TV you check to see who just sent you a text. It was one of your coworkers, Anthony, he sent you a raging text about how he still has no idea what to wear to the company party that’s gonna be next Saturday and you realize that you totally forgot about it.

“Shit!” you curse under your breath.

“What?” Harry asks, pausing the show.

“I have this stupid work party next weekend and I totally forgot about it,” you growl, checking your calendar quickly if you can squeeze in a quick shopping spree before Saturday or you’ll have to find something in your closet.

“Aren’t those things nice with a lot of free food and drinks?” Harry wonders.

“Yeah, but I don’t like it, because all my colleagues bring their partners and I’m usually the only single one and they keep trying to set me up with someone,” you roll your eyes even at the thought of having to suffer through another one of those awkward conversations about your love life. Like it’s any of their concern!

“I can go with you if that helps,” he offers and you give him a look over your phone. “What? I’m sure if you brought someone they wouldn’t bug you.”

“But we are not together,” you remind him narrowing your eyes at him.

“They don’t have to know that. It’s a win-win, Y/N. Your colleagues would stop nagging you and I can eat and drink for free,” he smirks, clearly pleased with his little plan.

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” you sigh.

“See? Then it’s settled,” he pats your legs, smirking widely at you, but you’re still not entirely convinced. “Come on, Y/N. It’s gonna be fun!”

“This is so cliché, Harry!” you groan, your head falling back against the arm of the couch. “Pretending to be a couple? Straight out of a damn movie.”

Harry lifts your legs up so he can get out from under them, placing them back to the cushion before he climbs over to you, half of his body pressing onto yours as he squints his eyes at you.

“We can fuck in the bathroom, if you want,” he bluntly offers and you just start laughing at his dirty mind and technique of convincing you. “What? There’s literally no better offer out there. Free food, free drinks and free sex. Really good sex, if I may add,” he points out and you smack his chest lightly.

“Didn’t know you were thinking about charging me for the sex,” you joke.

“Might as well do, baby. Especially if it’s the best you can get,” he smugly huffs and you’d retort something funny, but you get caught up on the name.

“Baby? Since when are you calling me baby?”

“Since we are gonna be a couple next week. Gotta rehearse, baby,” he repeats the nickname and a foreign feeling bubbles in the pit of your stomach. Why is this one little word making you feel things you haven’t before? “And you know what else we can rehearse?” he continues, oblivious to your inner dialogue.

You don’t get to answer upon feeling his hand slide between your legs, fingers gently pressing onto your clothed clit and though you can’t stop a moan from slipping through your lips, you still grab his wrist and pull him away.

“My legs are too sore, I wouldn’t enjoy another round of you pounding into me,” you tell him and you can see the proud glimmer in his eyes that he was the one who got you into this state, though he luckily doesn’t comment on it.

“It doesn’t have to be pounding, then,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses you, taking his time as his hand frees itself from your grip and slides under your shorts and panties, fingers meeting your already throbbing bud.

He repositions himself so one of his thighs are between your legs, his lips never leaving yours as his fingers start drawing circles on your clit, sending pleasure down your body in waves.

“Fuck,” you breathe out against his lips when two of his fingers tease your entrance before pushing all the way inside, curling them between your clenching, wet walls.

“No, we are not fucking right now,” he smirks, never missing a chance to joke around and you want to retort to his comment, but words get caught in your throat when his thumb starts playing with your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“So, are we on for Saturday? It’s gonna be fun, hm?”

The little shit is using his fingers to convince you and he has the audacity to ask you questions when you are about to see stars. Sometimes you really do hate how big of a smug fucker Harry is, but it’s hard to feel hatred for him when he is about to make you cum again.

“I-I don’t… Harry!” you gasp when he abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, right when you were so close. “I was about to fucking cum!” you growl, raging eyes meeting his green irises.

“I know,” he chuckles. “Say that you’re in and I’ll make you cum.”

“You motherfu—“

You don’t get to finish, his lips smashing against yours as his fingers return, moving faster than before, quickly pushing you towards the edge again.

“Say it. Say it, Y/N,” he mumbles against your lips as your chest is heaving and you start buckling your hips to meet his movements.

“Fuck… Okay! I’m in, just please make me cum!” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders like your life depends on it.

“Good girl,” he smirks and finishes you off without any more teasing.

You cry out his name, fingers digging into his muscles as you push your thighs together, trapping his hand between them while he keeps fingering you oh so perfectly. He makes sure you ride out the last waves of your orgasm before he pulls his fingers out and without batting an eye, he just licks them and fixes your panties and shorts before returning to his previous position with your legs across his lap, starting the show like nothing really happened.

Saturday morning you’re able to quickly get your nails done and Leticia comes with you, the two of you having brunch together afterwards. You go to a new place near the nail salon and as the waiter arrives with your orders, you notice that he slides a napkin onto the table with a small smile.

Grabbing it you see a phone number scribbled onto it. Normally, you send back a smile and tug the napkin into your purse, but this time you just leave it on the table and decide to ignore it.

“What the hell is up with you?” Leticia asks and glancing up at her you see her gesturing towards the napkin. “You don’t seem too thrilled about the approach which is very unlike you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m just… not interested,” you shrug, reaching for your fork.

“Not interested? The dude looks like the lovechild of Chris Hemsworth and Johnny Depp. He is exactly your type, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just not seeking another hookup right now, that’s it.”

“Oh my God!” Leticia gasps and you give her a puzzled look.

“What?”

“You don’t want other men because of Harry!”

“What? That’s crazy,” you laugh, because she has clearly left her mind at the salon for even thinking that.

“Have you hooked up with anyone else than Harry since you’ve made your little deal?”

“I, uhh… Flirted with the bartender when we were out together.”

“Flirting doesn’t count, not even in relationships.”

“I don’t think many would agree with that, Tish,” you huff.

“Okay, but did you have any interest in fucking someone else?”

“I don’t get it why you are making a big deal out of it. Why would I seek anyone else if I’m perfectly pleased by him?”

“Honey, that’s like… how relationships work.”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head, though what would you know about relationships? Your first and only one was when you were seventeen and it lasted twenty-one pathetic days.

“Are you fucking with anyone else?” She asks, eyebrows raised at you as you shake your head no. “Are you fucking him?”

“Obviously,” you scoff.

“Do you spend time together that doesn’t include sex?”

You are almost quick to say no, but then you realize that would be a big ass lie. Every time he comes over to your place or you’re at his, it’s never just the sex. That’s always primary, but not everything you do. All the dinners, the movies and shows you’ve watched together, when you sit on your tiny balcony with a bottle of wine, talking and laughing like you always did before the deal, something always happens after the sex.

Your silence once again answers Leticia’s question. Reaching over the table she takes your hand in hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Girl, you are totally dating Harry.”

Leticia once again manages to put a flea in your ear about this whole Harry thing. You wish she didn’t say a thing, because now you can’t think of anything else than the fact that you really are doing all the things with Harry that people who are dating do.

You get so riled up that you almost cancel on the evening, but you’d hate to have to sit through the evening with your colleagues alone when you said you’d be bringing someone. That would make their usual nagging a hundred times worse. So instead, you suck it up and decide to ignore the issue just for the time being and you get ready.

You were able to find a new dress beforehand, the yellow dress is truly a sight to the sore eyes with the corset-like top and very subtle lace details here and there. It’s a little daring, but everyone goes all out for these parties usually and you definitely don’t want to be underdressed.

Harry texts you that he is in front of the building a little before seven, holding up the taxi he came with so you quickly grab everything you need and head out.

You’re the first one to see him through the glass entrance doors of your building, he is standing next to the car in a simple black suit and a soft yellow shirt underneath. It was actually your idea to match your outfits and he surely understood the assignment, especially seeing his also yellow nails.

Part of you is still hung up on what Leticia told you, but a bigger one is so excited to see him and also very into his look for the evening, that you push your doubts to the back of your mind and step out of the building with a shy smile on your lips as his eyes fall on you and you see his lips part.

“Wow! This dress is… wow!” he breathes out, his eyes raking your frame up and down shamelessly as you walk closer.

“Do you know any other words than wow?” you tease him, biting into your bottom lip.

“Yeah. How about: I would love to bend you over this taxi and take you here and now in this dress?”

Your face heats up immediately, slapping his arm, but then you leave your hand on his bicep and give it a squeeze as your answer: you’d definitely love that if it wasn’t kind of illegal to have sex out on a busy street.

The ignorance in you is so high that you don’t even mind how Harry keeps a hand on your thigh in the car, what’s more, you’re quite liking the warmth of his touch on you. His fingers are gently tapping against the music the driver is playing and he even hums a little along the songs.

“Hey, how is the album writing going?” you ask to break the silence a little.

“Great! They asked for fifteen songs until the end of August, so I have plenty of time, but I’m already done with six,” he beams, and you smile back at him proudly.

“That’s amazing. Can I hear any of them sometime?”

“I mean… if you buy the album?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes at him. “I’ll see what I can do about that,” he then adds, giving your leg another squeeze before turning towards the window.

The party is just the same as it always is. A luxurious evening to celebrate the company’s success in the past six months, a way to give back to the employees and make them feel appreciated with all the free stuff. It’s nice, but you don’t feel like it’s necessary, people would be happier with a raise after all, than one night of free food and drinks.

Harry holds your hand as you walk in, the majority of the guests already present, music playing and there are several open buffet tables and bars in the gigantic ballroom that was decorated in a forest-like theme just for tonight.

“So you did not lie about bringing a date!” Anthony beams as soon as he sees you, his boyfriend, Pete following him right behind, both of them wearing matching burgundy suits.

“Have I lied to you about anything?” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Plenty of times,” he points out before turning towards Harry. “Hello handsome, I’m Anthony, Y/N’s favorite coworker, and this is my boyfriend, Pete.” They all shake hands, Harry smiling back at them warmly before his hand finds yours again, his fingers lacing together with yours in an instant.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, I’m Harry.”

“Oh my! The accent!” Anthony gushes, clearly already a fan of Harry’s. “I was really afraid Y/N just said that she is bringing someone so we would get out of her hair this time.”

“I feel offended,” you give him a look, but he just shrugs it off, even though he is more right than he knows.

“Come on, let’s get you guys a drink, we are all sitting over there!”

Joining all your coworkers at the table, you get a head start on the food and drinks, not shying away from stacking everything you like onto your plate. Talking, mixing and mingling, Harry stays right next to you, charming everyone the two of you meet, earning you some approving looks from your colleagues that usually try to set you up with someone they know. This time, you’re left in peace the moment they see Harry with you, his hand always somewhere on you, holding your hand, the small of your back, your hips or waist or, your personal favorite, the back of your neck under your hair. His presence is uplifting already, but his tiny touches just warm you even more on the inside.

“I have to say, Y/N, you are absolutely glowing!” Dianne, one of the editors compliment you when the two of you are at the bar waiting for your drinks to be refilled. Harry stayed back at the table, deep in conversation with Pete about guitars, from what you could understand from their conversation.

“Oh, thank you!” you chuckle softly.

“This man is for sure treating you well. It’s so great to see you finally finding your person.”

She meant well with her comment, but it’s what brings everything you kept hidden in the back of your head out to the front. Tonight was supposed to be all pretending, making everyone believe something that’s not even there, but then why do you feel like it’s real? Like you fooled yourself with everyone else as well?

Your eyes fall back to Harry at the table, who is intently listening to something Pete is telling him and as if he had a sixth sense, his eyes snap at you, a smile stretching across his pretty face at an instant that makes you stomach dance again, heart beating oddly fast.

What is happening to you? This cannot be real, you can’t be having feelings, especially not for Harry. No, you do not allow that for yourself, emotions are off limits for you, because if you fall for someone that gives them the chance to leave you and break you and you’ve seen what it does to a woman. You got enough of the suffering through your mother and you vowed not to let it happen to you. And not even Harry Styles will change that. This is about sex and nothing else, no feelings are involved and that will not change. You won’t let it.

Excusing yourself from Dianne you quickly go back to the table, the refills long forgotten as you take your seat next to Harry. His hand instantly finds your leg as he looks at you with a sweet smile at first that turns into slight confusion.

“Thought you went for a refill?”

“Forget the drinks,” you shake your head, leaning closer to his ear. “You promised me bathroom sex.”

You feel the shift in him right away, how he bites into his bottom lip, his bright green irises darkening at your words, his hold on your leg tightening. His gaze flickers to your eyes and you want to devour him, you want him to take you here and there to prove you that this is all it’s about: sex.

Clearing his throat he mumbles a lame excuse as he pulls you from your chair, tugging you towards the restrooms, you try to keep up with his pace in your heels, but you also can’t wait for him to slam you against the door and fuck you quick and hard.

As soon as you’re locked away from the party in one of the bathrooms, your lips collide with his as he pushes you up against the door, a leg coming between your thighs and you can’t stop yourself from grinding on him.

“Fuck,” he rasps out, hands cupping your jaw as he angles your head just right while your hands are already traveling down his body to reach his pants, eager to get them undone as fast as possible.

However the sudden rush and desperation catches Harry’s eyes and he grabs your hands, stopping you mid-action.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asks, out of breath, concern filling his eyes.

“I just need you to fuck me,” you bluntly reply, but he doesn’t move.

“Okay, but why do you look so shaken up? Did something happen?”

“Harry, stop babying me! I said I’m fine, I just want you to fuck me!” you snap, losing your patience. Not sure if it’s with him or with yourself though.

“You’re obviously not fine! You are snapping at me for being decent and making sure you’re okay!” Harry steps away from you, the moment completely ruined as all physical contact ends with him, his eyes staring back at you in disbelief and you feel like a ticking bomb that’s about to explode.

“It’s not your concern if I’m okay or not. We have a deal, just go with that and leave the rest to me!”

“But above the deal we are friends too. I’m not gonna just… fuck you senseless when you’re obviously upset about something. You’re not in the right mindset.”

“Oh my God, stop being so fucking nice! Stop making these grand gestures and stop pretending like you give a fuck!” You raise your voice and it surely surprises him, but he is still more concerned than angry at your outburst.

“What do you mean pretending? I do care about you! Is that a fucking crime now?!”

“It is because it is for the wrong reasons!” you retort, feeling your throat closing up at the same time. Oh God, you hope you won’t start crying, that will make it even worse. “I think you are taking this pretending a little too far tonight. We are not a couple, this is not real, Harry,” you remind him.

He stares back at you for what feels like eternity and you wish you could read his mind, because you can’t read anything from his eyes, he just stands there like a statue and you feel panic crawling up your spine, slowly digging its claws into your flesh.

And then he finally breaks his silence.

“And would it be so bad if it was real?”

You can’t help a sob that emits from you, feeling like your guts are in a tight grip by his words. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

“No, take that back!” you whine.

“I’m not taking it back! Y/N, what we’ve been doing these past weeks is exactly what a relationship is like and you didn’t seem to have a problem with it until a label was put on it. It doesn’t have to change anything!”

“But it is! And you know I don’t do this!”

“Don’t do what? Feelings? You don’t get to choose that!” he chuckles bitterly.

“I do! I fucking do! And I chose not to have them so… this is ending here, because you clearly caught feelings,” you pant in desperate need of getting out of the bathroom, but when you are about to open the door Harry’s hand snaps against it, keeping it closed. You rest your forehead against the cool surface of it, feeling Harry stand so close to you behind, his chest is touching your back.

“Don’t just walk away, we are in the middle of a conversation,” he growls, his voice filled with anger and warning.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you whisper, shaking your head as you turn around and face him, your back pressing against the door.

“But I do,” he simply replies. “Why do you think you can just run away from feeling anything for the rest of your life? Why would it be so bad if you fell for someone, huh? I know you do have feelings, I know you well, Y/N. You’re not some cold hearted jerk, you are a caring and loving person, so why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

“I am happy the way I am, have you thought about that?”

“No, you’re not. I’ve known you half my life, I know that you want to be cared for, you want to be loved and cherished, yet you push away everyone who wants to give you that.”

“Because it’s not that easy, Harry!” you snap at him. “It’s never just the lovey-dovey shit! Feelings come with hurt and pain and heartbreaks and I don’t need that! I can’t handle that!”

“It’s not always the case! But if you never put yourself out there, you’ll never find the happiness you’re seeking!”

“Well, for me, it doesn’t worth it! I don’t want to fall for someone, plan my future with them and open up to them completely only for them to fall out of love with me one day and decide they don’t want anything to do with me! I don’t want to give anyone the chance to hurt me like that, because I’ve seen what it does to a person! I witnessed it all, Harry! I will not be a victim to that!”

You’re full on shouting, tears rolling down your cheeks at this point. You are letting everything out that’s been bottled up deep inside of you all this time. Nothing can make you believe in the fairytale that will never become your reality and you rather save the time and pain than experiment with it.

What really hurts is that now you are losing your friend. Your best friend. Because the way Harry is looking at you makes it obvious that you’ll never be like before the deal. The hurt, the shock, the panic and the anger, it all mixes in his wide-eyed gaze and it’s like a knife into your chest.

“You promised me, Harry,” you sob, voice now barely more than just a whisper. “You swore you wouldn’t catch feelings but you lied!”

“I didn’t lie,” he simply answers clenching his jaw. “I said I wouldn’t catch feelings for you, but truth is… I already had them. I was already in love with you, have been for a while. And you know what? I think you love me too, but you’re just too afraid to admit it. I know it because I can feel it. The way you touch me, look at me, the way you talk to me, it’s written all over you, but you choose to ignore it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you shake your head vigorously. “You think you know it, but you don’t.”

“Stop denying it, Y/N! You can’t just switch it off! Loving is not as horrendous as you think it is! Yes, it comes with pain too, but the good is always there to make you forget about it. You have to give it… you have to give yourself a chance!”

“I don’t have to do anything, Harry,” you sass back, pushing him away so you have the chance to sneak out of the room before he could stop you. But he doesn’t let it end that easily. Running after you he catches your wrist before you could get out of the hallway, pulling you back.

“Don’t just fucking walk away, Y/N! We need to talk about this!”

“No, we don’t. And I’m done with this. Done with… you.”

It hurts. The words rolling off of your tongue hurt, but you choose to ignore it once again as you shake his hand off of yourself, marching back to your table to grab your bag and leave.

“What do you mean you’re done with me? Don’t do this, Y/N! Let’s just fucking talk!”

Harry keeps trying to stop you, but you’re determined to leave. Your coworkers notice the little scene, but you don’t pay it any attention as you head out of the room, knowing well they’ll talk shit about you behind your back as soon as you’re out of the building.

“Y/N for fuck’s sake just stop already!” Harry snaps, grabbing your arm once again when you’re outside, pulling you back, but you’ve had enough.

“No! I’m not stopping, you need to stop! Stop trying to make yourself believe this is anything more than just the deal we made! It’s not and it will never be, because you don’t get to have the privilege of hurting me, nobody gets to do that!”

“Who said I want to hurt you?! That’s the last thing I would want to do! It’s not as cruel as you imagine it, Y/N. I know that your mum had a terrible love life when you were younger, but that’s not the only side to love! There are so much good about it, so much to fight for and endure with the bad sides, you can’t just throw all of it out the window because you decided love is just not for you!”

“I can and I will. Watch me!” you bite back, tearing your arm out of his hold as you step to the side of the pavement and wave a taxi down.

“Please don’t get into that car, Y/N, let’s talk!”

“We talked enough,” you huff as the car stops in front of you and you hop inside, but just as you are about to close the door Harry once again stops you.

“Y/N, I love you. Please don’t do this!” he begs, so much sorrow and pain radiating from his face and for a moment you fall weak. You almost reach out to him, because part of you hates seeing him like this, especially knowing that it’s because of you. You just want him to be happy, but you know it’s not gonna be with you. You can never give him what he wants and needs. He’ll be better off without you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before pulling the door closed and the car drives away. Turning around you see him stand on the pavement, completely broken and shaken, his hands tangling into his hair as he angrily kicks at the dirt before the car melts into the traffic and he falls out of your sight.

You did it for your and Harry’s sake. It had to be done and you are both better off this way. At least that’s what you’ve been trying to convince you to believe.

But why does it hurt so badly then?

Harry tried you calling a million times after you left him at the party, he even came after you and banged on your door for thirty minutes straight, begging you to let him in and just talk, but you didn’t even answer him. Just waited until he left before you curled up in the shower and cried for about an hour.

The calls and texts kept coming in the next few days, but after a while he gave up. He got nothing but silence from your side and one last, long ass text that you didn’t even read because you knew you’d just start crying again, he finally gave up.

You were left alone with all the pain and emptiness and you realized how big part of your life Harry played before. Somehow, everything reminded you of him and you couldn’t do anything without wishing he was with you.

You truly believed that time will heal you, that soon you’ll realize that you made the right decision, but days turned into weeks and nothing changed, you just learned to live with the pain. You stopped going out with your friends and not just because you were afraid of seeing Harry, but because you genuinely couldn’t get yourself to leave the house. Your evenings consisted of binge eating all the ice-cream you could find in your freezer and watching reruns of your favorite shows, but nothing could really take your mind off of Harry.

Day after day you cancelled on Leticia as well until she had enough of your hermit life. She got fed up watching you sink into your pit of sorrow and decided to take things into her own hands and not let you run away from her.

A Friday evening you’re doing what you’ve been doing for weeks now, lying on your couch in sweatpants, scrolling through Netflix when there’s a knock on your door. You wait, hoping whoever it is will think you’re not home and go away, but another obnoxious knock rips through the apartment and you growl.

“I know you’re in there bitch, open the fucking door!” Leticia shouts from outside and you curse the day you became friends with her. Maybe you would have been better off as enemies.

“I’m busy!” you call out, but make your way to the front door anyway, opening it to reveal her.

“Yeah, I can see that. Busy with being a bag of trash,” she comments on your appearance, walking inside without an invitation.

“Jeez, you really did wake up today and chose violence,” you mutter under your breath as you shut the door closed.

Leticia is quick to turn the TV off and open up the windows as you just stand there, not sure what she is doing here.

“When did you clean this place? And when was the last time you took a shower?” she asks, her nose scrunching when she takes a better look at you.

“Okay, did you come here to offend me? Because I don’t need that so please leave.”

“No, I’m here to beat some sense into you.”

“Good luck with that,” you scoff, taking your spot on the couch once again. You reach for the remote with the intention of turning the TV back on, but Leticia stands in front of the screen, blocking the device completely as she stares down at you with a disapproving look, arms folded on her chest.

“You’re acting like a child, Y/N. Avoiding everyone and being mad at the whole world, are you an emo teenager now or what?”

“I’m not mad at the whole world!”

“Okay, then you’re mad at just Harry, still, it’s a mistake.”

“I’m not mad at only Harry either,” you admit truthfully.

“Who else then?”

“Myself?” you mumble, eyes falling closed as you slide lower down on the couch.

“That makes the two of us, but why are you mad at yourself?” she asks, finally moving from her spot in front of the TV as she sits next to you on the couch, crossing her legs as she waits for your answer.

“Because…” you start with a sigh, opening your eyes, but you avoid looking at her, instead, you stare at the wall across you. “Because I can’t fucking stop thinking about him,” you admit and your lips start trembling instantly, just like every time you think about him. “I miss him so fucking badly, Tish! I miss our conversations, I miss his stupid jokes, I miss him raiding my fucking fridge and I miss…”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to admit the next thoughts loudly. Because you miss kissing him, you miss holding him and be held by him. You miss sex too, but you miss the tiny things even more, the way his lips feel against yours, how he smiles against them when you whimper his name and you miss the awkward little things the most. When he accidentally bumps his head against yours or when say random shit right before he pushes into you just to make you laugh, or when he leans in for a kiss but misses it and ends up kissing your nose or just the corner of your mouth. You miss everything about him and you hate him for that, but you hate yourself even more. It feels like your own conscious has betrayed you.

Shutting your eyes closed you let the tears roll down your cheeks as Leticia scoots closer and wraps her arms around you, cooing soothingly at you.

“It’s alright. It’s totally normal, Y/N.”

“It is not! Not for me at least!” you protest pulling back, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands.

“Stop with the bullshit already!” she growls in annoyance. “You are not some kind of ice queen who is incapable of loving! You love me, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” you roll your eyes.

“Not really. You love your other friends as well, right?” You nod. “And you love your mom,” she adds and you nod again. “Would you do anything for these people?”

“Of course.”

“Do you like spending time with them? Do you care about them in all kinds of ways?”

“Yes,” you sigh, fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

“Do you feel the same way about Harry? Do you care about him, would you do anything for him to make him happy?”

“Yes,” you whisper truthfully.

“Then don’t complicate it. You love him, no big deal! And he surely loves you back, because he told you, right?” You nod. “Then pull your head out of your ass and just let yourself be happy for once.”

“Why are you coming with this too? I was happy on my own too!”

“No, you were getting by,” she points it out. “You were doing good, but you weren’t… a whole. Harry gave you everything you missed, but for some fucked up reason you think it’s the end of the world to depend on someone else partially when it comes to your happiness. Which can be a smart thing, it’s important to be your own person and be independent, but sometimes we need some help from others. From people that love us and we love them back. It’s not a crime, Y/N.”

“No, but it’s gonna end up with me being heartbroken.”

“You already are,” she ruthlessly replies, bringing your attention to what you’ve been trying to ignore all this time. “Hate to break it to you, but this is what that feels like. So why not just go with it, you already felt the pain, now you could go for the good parts as well.”

“I don’t know if I can do it, Tish,” you breathe out, resting your head against the back of the couch. “Even if I did it, I know I would mess it up and hurt him or maybe he’ll do something stupid and hurt me and I don’t think I can handle that.”

“So what? It’s part of the deal. And besides, you’re already hurting each other, so you better get your shit together,” she scoffs, poking your side playfully.

It’s part of the deal. Are you ready to make a new deal? One that you’ve been avoiding your whole life? Are you ready to cut yourself open for someone else and just hope for the best?

Probably not. And probably you’ll never be. But your tactics didn’t succeed so far, you still ended up in pain so why not give it a chance? Even if it’s gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done?

“Do you think he hates me now?” you ask quietly, peeking at her scared of her answer.

“He is a bit mad at you for shutting him out, but he could never hate you. That man loves you so much, it’s almost disgusting,” she admits, making you chuckle. “Just… be honest with him and talk to him. You need it. You both need it.”

Harry’s fingers strum against the chords again, trying to get the tune right, but he fails again, a frustrated growl leaving his lips as he lets his head fall forwards. He’s been trying to finish the song for hours, but it still hasn’t come together the way he imagined and his patience is running short.

It’s been hard for him to focus on writing, with you on his mind all the time, everything seems like a hard task. He has written plenty of songs since the night at the party, but he could never use them for his job. One, because they are so fucking sad and depressive and they asked for upbeat hits from him, and two, because they are all so personal, he could never give them to someone else. He can’t let anyone else sing the lines he wrote to you, but you’ll probably never hear them.

Giving up on finishing the song today, he puts the guitar aside and calls it a day. Walking into the kitchen he opens the fridge and realizes that it’s completely empty aside from a bottle of ketchup and a single banana. He’s been such a mess lately, he forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday. Huffing to himself he grabs the banana and reaches for his phone to order something right when his doorbell rings. He is not expecting anyone, but Mitch has been popping in every few days to check in on him since everything that went down with you, so Harry is convinced it’s him again.

“Great timing, do you want Italian or Chinese?” he asks, walking up to the door, but as he swings it open he freezes when he sees you standing on the doormat. “Y/N…” he breathes out as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Hi! I-I hope I’m not bothering you o-or anything…” you ramble nervously.

“No! No, come on in!” He snaps out of his trance and steps aside, letting you walk inside. A feeling of nostalgia hits you right away as you think back at the last time you were here. Just a few days before the party, when everything was different.

“I’m sorry I came without asking, I just… I would say I was nearby, but that’s not true,” you chuckle anxiously as the two of you walk into the living room. You notice that his place is a little messier than usually, but it’s not nearly as bad as yours was before you did a deep cleaning yesterday after Leticia’s comments on it.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What… What brought you here?”

“I, uhh… I’ve been thinking. A lot. And I have a few things I need to tell you.”

For a moment Harry’s stomach drops, because he thinks you came here to tell him off one more time for breaking your deal, for everything that happened at the party. He is already bracing himself to just let you lash out on him, but it never comes. And when you speak up again, he nearly faints.

“I love you.”

It’s a strong start, definitely a surprising one. Harry’s lips part and his eyes widen, his look almost comical, but you’re not laughing, not now. You have a lot to tell him and you can only hope he won’t throw you out after everything is said.

“I love you and I’m sorry it took me so long to stop ignoring it, but I promise you I’m done with that. And I’m sorry for everything I said to you that night, I was… mad and confused and I didn’t know how to deal with everything at once. I was delusional and ignorant and… a fool for thinking that I could just choose to never have feelings, especially for you,” you add with a tiny, nervous chuckle. “You were right. About everything. That I can’t live without ever putting myself out there and risking it. And I think deep down I knew that, but I was so afraid of getting hurt that I made myself believe I’m good on my own, but I’m not. Not entirely, to be precise. Because sometimes it is worth risking it and… and I realized that you are the person for me who is worth this risk.”

The tears are already blurring your vision, for the millionth time these past weeks, but it feels right now. Opening up to Harry and telling him all of this is hard, but with every spoken word you feel lighter and more relieved.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that I don’t love you, because I do. I really do. You are my best friend and these past weeks have been hell for me without you. I was so keen on avoiding a heart break that I ended up breaking my own heart,” you chuckle bitterly, the first tear running down your cheek.

Harry reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb and you involuntarily melt into his touch. You’ve been starved for it and now it feels like home. When you look up and your eyes meet his, you see that they are red too and it just makes you want to cry even more.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just thought that I was doing the right thing, but I was so far from that. So I’m really sorry and I understand if you don’t want to see me again for the way I acted. I was… a horrible friend and… an even worse girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah. Because you were right, we were more than just the deal and… if you choose not to throw me out after this, I would… I would love to give it a try with you. I want to be the girlfriend you deserve and though I’m sure I’ll mess it up a lot of times, I promise I’ll try my best, becau—“

He makes your rambling stop in the best way possible, lips smashing against yours as he cups your tear-soaked cheeks in his warm palms, pulling you close to him, your arms curling around his waist immediately.

Harry has kissed you several times before, but none of them compares to this. It’s messy and salty from both your tears, but you wouldn’t change a thing about it, the way his lips move against yours, tongues meeting, devouring each other, making up for the lost time and full of promises for the future. You hold onto his shirt at his back for dear life as he just keeps kissing you over and over again until you both run out of breath.

“So, does this mean you’re not throwing me out?” you joke, breaking the silence once you’ve pulled back.

“Fuck no,” he laughs, pecking your lips a few more times before his lips meet your forehead. “You are not leaving this place, ever. You’re trapped,” he adds to the joke and you break out in a relieved laughter.

“Wait, so I’m stuck with you now?” you whine playfully, but all you get is another kiss on the lips, hard and demanding.

“Yeah, forever, baby. You won’t get rid of me now, not after the speech you just gave me,” he smirks down at you, his arms coming to curl around your shoulders as he keeps you pressed against him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your heart soaring as you hear those words again from him, this time, not even trying to dodge them in any way. In fact, you just want to hear him say it every minute over and over again for the rest of your life. “And I’m happy to be stuck with you,” you add with a shy smile as his grin widens at your words.

“Yeah? So we have a new deal then?” he teases, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Absolutely.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[lovelybarnes]

stood up- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, anderson x reader (?) warnings: angst, getting stood up, language, unrequited feelings about: prompts (DA29) “i got stood up.” + (DF30) “i think you’re my soulmate.” +(DF41) “are you going to cry? please don’t cry. a/n: i love to hurt but dw it’s a happy ending, i actually like this fjsk, a the time i finished this, i just posted another imagine, so i can’t wait for you guys to read this one in a couple days

every passing second makes you hyperaware of all the sympathetic stares that are currently directed at you. the feeling of pity is enveloping you whole, wrapping you in a thin layer of shame that you think must be related to the careful makeup you caked on your face for this date. your recently manicured nails scratch at the tablecloth, trying to avoid your new expensive dress, deep midnight color clinging to your nervous self. teeth stress your dark wine bottom lip, anxious eyes darting across the restaurant.

with each face that enters the place, none of them being his, the presumption that he isn’t coming solidifies. with it, comes the embarrassment. you can feel the warnings of tears, already threatening to ruin the mascara you had applied so carefully, not bothering to choose the waterproof one because why would you be crying on your date?

you suppose it’s your own fault- how dare you attempt to get over bucky? how dare you trust the words of a shield agent? you pick at your nails, gathering up the courage to stand up and leave. your waitress, however, beats you to it, a faux apologetic look on her face. “oh, so you’ve been here for, like, half an hour and it seems no one is coming, and we kind of need the table, so…”

you hold back an uncomfortable cringe, nodding stiffly as you stand. “right. i’m sorry. i don’t need to… pay for the water, right?” you ask dumbly, ducking your head when she shakes her head condescendingly.

pushing the door open, you step into the brisk air of the night, clouded over with an uneasy disappointment that you’re sure is because of you. you stand for a second to look at the stars, realizing how pretty of a night this would be if you weren’t so damn frustrated. the upset hasn’t passed yet, although the beginnings of anger are peeking up in your stomach.

while you stare up at the moon, the universe decides your getting stood up wasn’t enough, choosing to gift you with cold droplets of water that make your mascara run. it’s unbelievable, you nearly scoff tearily.

you walk to your car then, the moonlight that should have been romantic when you walked out of the restaurant now only making you feel lonely. you don’t let the tears come yet, having enough pride to not let the smitten couples appreciating the romance of the rain see you cry, deciding to put that off until you’re in the quietness of your room.

you drive in the sound of the pattering rain, concentrated on keeping your breathing even so as to push back the tears, not wanting to have an accident on the way back home because your vision was clouded over with sadness.

-

the relief you feel when you arrive at the compound is immeasurable; the knowledge that all you have to do is walk quietly to your room, and you can release the pent up emotions that eat you whole is unbelievably satisfying. the horrible itching feeling that comes with the tears arrives again when you notice your reflection in the impressively clean windows of the stark compound. through the stains of your ruined makeup, you can see the remnants of how dolled up you were, how much time was spent with the intricate details that made you smile when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

you swallow back the painful lump in your throat, opening the doors and sniffling at the dimly-lit room. your heels click tiredly on the floor, precious bracelet lightly jangling when you move. you can’t find it in yourself to care when you realize you’re dragging water inside, resigning to letting stark lecture you in the morning.

as you stand in the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor, the emotions you’ve pushed so far down decide to spring back up in the form of an overwhelming dejected exhaustion that makes you physically slump. you lean against the cool of the metal railing, shutting your eyes hard to avoid looking at yourself. you only pry your eyes open when you hear the soft ding of the elevator, surprised and once again embarrassed to see bucky standing between the open doors.

“y/n?” he asks quietly. his demeanor immediately changes when he takes you in, body softer in the way it always is when you’re with him. his reaction makes you fall deeper, which reminds you exactly why you were going on your failed date. you straighten, clearing your throat, “um- i have to get to my room.”

your voice is thin, heightening his worries and stopping you with a gentle hand to your arm before you step off the elevator, “what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay?” he asks, and you nod blindly at all of his questions, realizing that the longer you stay with him- with his warm hand that you can’t help but lean into pressed against your cold arm- the more you really want to cry and scream because it’s not fair that he’s been given to you, yet you can’t have him, even if he has you.

“i’m fine,” you lie obviously, forcing your eyes again from his. “y/n, what happened? you’re clearly not fine,” bucky pushes, the hand on your arm beginning to rub stressed circles into your skin. you give up then, looking back at him. “i got stood up,” you say finally, words cracked. you shake your head, “and i just spent so much time on everything and-”

“that’s stupid. who would stand you up?” bucky interrupts, eyes genuinely confused while you scoff. “apparently anderson from security,” you respond bitterly, looking away. “he’s stupid, y/n. he has to be to not go to a date with you.”

you exhale frustratedly, “maybe not. maybe there’s something wrong with me and i’m the stupid one for even thinking someone would want to go out with me,” you countered. “hey, no, you are- you are amazing, y/n. amazing and stunning and intelligent and he missed his chance to be the luckiest guy in the world,” he insisted, gently pulling your attention back to him with a gentle hand on your cheek. you give him a watery laugh through the loud, unfair questions in your head: why don’t you love me like i love you, then?

you don’t realize the tears that run down the streaks of already ruined mascara until bucky points them out, wiping them away with his fingers, “no, no, don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he begs. you can’t help it, though, biting your lip to hold back your unrequited confessions of love.

“nobody wants me. i don’t even think i want me anymore,” you weep, oblivious to the breaking of bucky’s heart when he hears your words, pulling you flush against his chest. “don’t say that, doll. that’s not true-”

“it is. what other reasons can you think of that explain why i’m the only one that’s shown up to the rare dates i’ve been on? why have i had to go on those stupid dates just to forget how pathetic i am that i can’t get over you?”

you’re too deep in the ocean of your thoughts to realize what you’ve said, too little light available in the dark to let you realize the hints you have and will undoubtedly let out if you continue blubbering into bucky’s shoulder like the mess you are. your feelings are scattered, words so disorganized that any way you piece them together will be a mistake. “why else does the one person who i actually want to love me back not want me?”

bucky can make sense of the words you’re saying, the heavy weight they carry when he realizes exactly what they mean, and what you imply. he’s frozen, heart simultaneously fluttering at the mere thought of his feelings being returned and breaking at the cries you’re letting out because of him.

he’s refused to ever be the source of your pain, restricting his own poems of confessions because he didn’t want to hurt you, never wanting to be the reason you cried. he supposes now it was the wrong choice, one he needs to fix.

the bead of insecurity buried stubbornly in his mind shrieks, however, because he’s as clueless as you are and can’t possibly imagine someone like you- so kind and pure and good- loving him back. so he needs to make sure, needs to hear you say it in your voice.

“what?” you let out a watery scoff, full of embarrassment rather than annoyance at him, “don’t make me say it, bucky, please-”

“please say it- i- i need you to say it.”

a beat of silence passes before you sniffle, pulling away from the man you’ve called your best friend and wanted nothing but to be able to call him more. “i love you, bucky. in a way that makes me pretty sure you’re my soulmate because i don’t even believe in that but you make me feel like i should.”

bucky’s storm clouds lighten, doubts dissolving when he listens to what you said, tasting your words and examining each one just to remember it. he pulls your lips to his when they’ve barely processed. “you should,” he says when he pulls away for a second, only to make you lose your breath again when he aches for you immediately, kissing you again, “believe in soulmates.”

“why is that?” you ask breathlessly, letting him pull you back in because you both have been waiting- dreaming about this for so damn long, and he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to keep away from you now that he has you. he presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, so perfectly imperfect when your teeth clash and you both laugh gently, noses nudging each other when he leans his forehead on yours, “because we’re meant to be, y/n. in that way that soulmates are.”

[lollytea]

Interesting that no one has any issues with Amity's history of abuse in terms of Lumity, even though Amity has based her ENTIRE PERSONALITY around being Luz girlfriend, and pretty much nothing else.

I've already SAID that I don't believe in the whole "No girlfriends until you've healed from trauma" take so this isn't a critique on lumity. Obviously I adore lumity. But Amity Blight was an emotionally abused, deeply troubled and love starved little girl. At one point, after years of suffering, she eventually learns to stand up to her parents because she's inspired to be a better person by Luz. That being said, though she was implied to improve mentally after that, Amity still did not escape her abusive household. She was still in a terrible situation. Maybe a month later, she paired up with Luz. Where was the time devoted to processing her trauma and healing before she dove into such a taxing emotionally draining responsibility as holding a girl's hand and kissing her on the cheek sometimes? Where was the outrage when it wasn't shown?

I don't mind at all if you believe in the whole idea that Hunter needs time first before he starts thinking about a romantic relationship. Like to each their own or whatever. I'm just saying that it's hypocritical to preach it and not bring that same energy towards lumity.

And also this other idea that if Hunter were to pursue anything romantic with Willow, it would somehow stunt any further development on his part?? What?? he would be rendered incapable of discovering anything new about himself??? You want him to study and learn more about wild magic, you want him to strengthen his bond with Darius, you want him to go to school. Sure. Yeah. I want these things for him too. However because the poor idiot can only focus on one significant relationship at once, let's give his dynamic with Darius all of the focus. Because it clearly has the most healthy and conventional foundation.

(Again, you know I love Dadrius. Everyone knows this. I'm just saying that it's kinda insulting to shelf Hunter's dynamic with Willow in favour of it, if you're gonna preach about a healthy healing process. Of course Darius is gonna be an important part of Hunter's life. But you gotta acknowledge that Hunter's journey to recovery is just destined to be an unconventional one. And it's gonna involve the guy who started off by demeaning him and making him feel like shit. But dating would just be way too much for him to handle, right?)

But anyway, though being Luz's girlfriend became a significant part of Amity's identity, (Listen she's excited. Shes fourteen and it's her first gf. We will be nice to her. ) the relationship did not halt her character development. Admittedly, a lot of it was linked to their romance, though Eclipse Lake had an interesting angle of tackling Amity's trauma by relating it to her relationship with Luz. It was all about how being with Luz has not fixed Amity. However, overall, it's a very positive reinforcement for her.

And what makes it work is that it's never depicted as Luz's responsibility to make Amity better. But rather, it's the reality of having Luz in her life that encourages Amity to do the heavy lifting herself. When Amity realizes that she's not gonna be dumped if she doesn't come back with results, Luz is nowhere around. Luz wasn't even aware Amity was worrying. It was simply Luz being herself that brings Amity to be a better understanding of what love is supposed to be. Amity grows as a person because she wants to be better. And Luz just existing helps her to better understand how.

Beyond that, since she and Luz began dating, Amity has also had time devoted to establishing her interest in competitive brawling, how her dream of being in the EC has been squashed, and repairing her damaged relationships with her father and Willow. (Opinions on the writing of some of these aspects are irrelevant to this subject matter. The point isn't in how they were handled, it's just an acknowledgement that they were added to the show at all.)

Anyway, Amity's relationship with Luz was important to her character. But it did not stunt her ability to develop any further outside of that relationship. Luz did not fix Amity. Amity is working on fixing herself but having Luz around certainly doesn't hurt.

And yknow. Considering the viewpoint of the Hot Take that this discussion is all about. When Amity began dating Luz, she had nobody. She and Willow were still kinda awkward around each other, Alador was still distant. I suppose she had Ed and Em, which was probably the closest thing to a healthy dynamic, if you forget a few months prior when they were absolutely awful to her. Luz was the most positive relationship Amity had at the time. So you don't think there's an argument in here somewhere about dating her being a little unhealthy? Maybe a slippery slope towards the direction of co-dependence?? Maybe??

(Gotta establish AGAIN that I love lumity. You know the point I'm making here.)

Would Hunter have this problem if he were to date Willow? Honestly, it's very unlikely. From where he's at currently, Hunter has a far bigger supportive network than Amity did when she and Luz started dating. He has Luz, Gus, Darius, Willow, Viney, Skara , Flapjack ( Possibly Amity, Camila, Vee, Eber, Eda and Raine too. But we'll only list the ones we're certain of.) Willow does not consume Hunter's entire world. There is no reason for him to become dependent on her alone.

But if I said huntlow has the potential to have a more healthy foundation than lumity because of this point, would you even agree with me? Do I even believe in it? Not really. I dont believe in seriously measuring the level of "toxicity" in either of the ships. They're just kids who are exploring first relationship experiences. Like it's not that deep.

[quaranmine]

The Babysitting Game

They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well, Grian doesn't have a child but he does have an egg and a village. That’s basically the same thing, right?

Grian acquires an egg. His friends help him.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly fluff! Hermits: Grian, Mumbo, Pearl, and Scar. My first publish fanfic since 2016 and my first hermitcraft fanfic :D ao3 link and some inspirations to be linked in a reblog

Words: 2862

•·················•·················•

"What if I touched it really quick?" Scar asked.

"No, don’t-don’t touch the egg," Grian said seriously. "Look, I even made a sign! It specifically says ‘Do not touch.’" He gestured to the sign in question, but Scar ignored him.

"Can I rub it?" he said. The man leaned over it, studying the object carefully. Grian hadn’t known where to place the egg when he got it, and it was just sitting on an anvil for the time being. He didn’t even have a starter house yet, but clearly he was going to need something soon if he was going to protect the egg from some of the more . . . mischievous residents of their Boatem village.

“No, don’t touch the egg! Scar-” Grian walked closer, hands outstretched, just in time to see Scar reach out with his hand and pat the egg.

Vworp!

The egg disappeared into thin air.

Dragon eggs had a tendency to do that. It was a survival tactic--Grian didn't really know how it worked, but just as endermen could teleport away from danger, so could the egg if it were touched. Now whether or not Scar was dangerous remained up for debate…

Scar giggled. "Oh, where did you go?" he sang, hunting around the area.

Well, he COULD be pretty scary sometimes.

"Scarrrr," Grian whined, helping him look. "I told you not to touch it!"

"It's over here!" Scar shouted, finding the egg at the bottom of a small slope nearby. "Just one more time…." He reached out again.

"No!" Grian said, slapping his hand away. "Look, you've got to pick it up the right way." He demonstrated, carefully lifting the egg and placing it in a pouch slung over his back. He had hurriedly stitched it together not too long ago, worried that transporting the egg normally might break it. “If you do it roughly, you’ll scare it and it’ll teleport away again.”

"I see!" said Scar.

"Now, please, don't touch the egg.”

"Oh," Scar said. He straightened. "You're really serious about this."

Grian glared. "I am."

"I'm sorry, I just thought it was funny!"

Grian sighed. "It's okay, Scar. It's just--this thing is a baby, it needs to be handled gently! You can't just go around scaring it! What if it falls into a hole or something?" he hissed.

"Oh my god," Scar laughed, "you're its mother now!"

"No, no, I'm not!"

"You are!" Scar cried. He suddenly stopped. "Oh no, didn't you kill its mother?"

"Well it doesn't know that!" Grian snapped. "Truthfully I didn't realize there would be an egg! And I couldn't just leave it, you know! Here, look at this." Grian gently withdrew the egg from its pack, and Scar moved closer. He held it up to the sun. "Look at that."

The sun shined dark red through the deep purple shell of the egg, making it glow within. In the middle, the silhouette of a curled up creature was illuminated. Blood vessels radiated outward, and at the bottom there was a blank space that Grian assumed was air. The egg’s shell was too thick for any detail to be made out, but the processes happening within were clear. Grian was enchanted with it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

"Wow," Scar breathed. "There's actually a dragon in there! What're you gonna do with it after it hatches?"

"Well, I haven't exactly thought that far--I just want to worry about keeping it safe first. I mean, what do you even do with this thing?" Grian put the egg back in its satchel, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I suppose you keep it warm and safe but, like, I don't know what else-"

"I could help!" Scar said.

"You were just playing with it!"

"Hey," Scar said defensively, "that was before I knew more about it!"

Grian rolled his eyes.

“What are you guys doing over here?” said Mumbo, wandering over. Grian just knew he’d been up to something, and sure enough, there was a new tree next to his little collection of chests. Grian wasn’t very bothered by it, because he already had a plan to get Mumbo back for it.

“Grian is just showing me his new baby!” Scar teased. “He’s a mom now.”

“I am NOT its mother,” replied Grian tiredly, but he smiled at the sight of the other man.

“A baby?” Mumbo asked, choosing to ignore the rest of Scar’s statement.

“A dragon egg,” Grian answered. “I found it in the End.” He paused for a moment, feeling almost bad. “After I killed the dragon.”

“Grian! You’ve orphaned it!” Mumbo sounded scandalized.

“Why do you all keep bringing that up!?” he defended, glancing between Mumbo and Scar, who both gave him disapproving, albeit playful, looks. “I know you’re Mr. Peace, Love and Plants this time, but we’ve always killed the dragon in every new world!”

“Well, I guess that’s true, but it is a little sad isn’t it? You’re taking care of it but only because you killed its mum.”

“Yeah,” was all Grian said. The dragon always needed to be taken care of in each new world they visited, and while it was always a bit of a shame, he’d never really contemplated it that much. After all, he normally wasn’t the one who fought it--that last time in Evo aside. He didn’t really know what he had gotten into but he felt deeply like he needed to protect this egg. It was like a tug in his chest, drawing him into the egg and telling him not to let go.

“Show him the egg!” Scar said.

“You just want to see it again,” Grian replied, but pulled the egg out of the satchel again anyway for Mumbo to see. The surface of the egg wasn’t smooth, like a chicken’s egg, but bumpy. The purple spots almost seemed to glow, and occasionally little violet particles drifted off of it. Grian felt like he could stare at it in awe all day, and apparently his friends felt the same.

“How’re you going to keep it warm?” asked Mumbo after a moment of admiring it. “That satchel isn’t going to be enough, and to be frank, I don’t see you spending any time sitting on it, even if the mental image is pretty funny.”

Grian rolled his eyes at the comment, but thought about it. How would he incubate it? He may have had wings, but he didn’t know anything about eggs, other than that it was a safe bet to assume it needed to be kept warm. “I'm not sure, actually.”

“Hey, let me design something for you!” Mumbo said excitedly. “I could probably use some redstone and make an incubator of some sort for you.”

Grian smiled. “I’d really appreciate that.”

Asking Mumbo to create a contraption for him--what could go wrong?

•·················•·················•

“I’m not wearing this thing, you know.” Grian said, holding the contraption while Mumbo wheezed with laughter in the background. The design that Mumbo had come up with was essentially a backpack with heating elements strung through it, except for one thing . . .

“You-you wear it in the front,” Mumbo choked out, wiping a tear from his eyes.

“Yes, I see that,” Grian replied, unamused.

“Like a swaddle!”

“Yes, I see that.”

Mumbo laughed harder. Grian had to begrudgingly admit that it was well designed, however. It would fit the egg perfectly, keep it warm, and most important it was mobile to ensure that he could take the egg with him. It was thoughtful, especially since Mumbo knew Grian was quite protective of it.

“I’m not wearing this thing,” Grian repeated. “I’m not going to let you all laugh at me while I walk around the server with an egg swaddled to me!”

“I thought you’d say that,” Mumbo chuckled. “Here, you can switch the straps around and turn it into a backpack.” He unclipped the straps and moved them into the new configuration.

“Thank you, Mumbo,” he said gratefully. “This will certainly do the trick.”

“Glad to hear it mate,” Mumbo replied. “Now, while you’re here, may I ask why there is an incredibly tall tree on top of my camper?”

“Sorry, got to go!” blurted Grian, snatching the backpack from Mumbo’s arms and flying off in a burst of feathers.

“That’s unfair, I don’t even have an elytra yet to go chase him down with,” muttered the man as he watched Grian disappear.

•·················•·················•

Grian sat in the grass in front of his starter home and rubbed his eyes wearily. He was exhausted. Is this how all parents feel? he wondered. Was he just uniquely unqualified to be one? After all, this was only an egg! It hadn’t even hatched yet and he was already tired of keeping up with it.

Carrying it in the backpack was heavy, and Grian tired out quickly. It was hot on his back, and Grian found himself having to take breaks to avoid overheating. It was also cumbersome, and he found it difficult to build with as it shifted his weight. He almost fell off the roof once while building it! Of course, having wings meant that Grian could catch himself easily, but it had still given him quite the scare. Dragon eggs were pretty sturdy, and would teleport themselves out of danger if possible, but he was still so paranoid about breaking it. And now there was the Boatem Hole to worry about--what if it teleported itself into the void? These things kept Grian awake at night.

But if he left it...well, just like Grian had a tendency to lose items in his chest monsters, he also had a tendency to forget where he placed things. He had been forced to go back and rescue the egg from some place he’d left it more than once, which he wasn’t exactly proud of. What sort of parent forgot their child?

. . . He was definitely not admitting to being its parent.

Oh God, what did I get myself into?

“Hey Grian, what’re you up to?” came a voice, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up and saw Pearl standing over him. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and her hands were in her hoodie pockets. She took a seat on the ground next to him, and followed his gaze overlooking the Boatem village. “What’s on your mind?”

“This--this egg,” said Grian. It sat next to him in its backpack, still radiating heat. “I don’t know what to do with it. I’m just so tired of carrying it around!”

“I have to admit,” Pearl said, “I didn’t expect you to immediately adopt a baby dragon the very next time I saw you.”

“Yeah, well, it was an accident.” Grian groaned. “I don’t know what to do with it now, let alone when it hatches!”

Pearl thought for a moment. “You know, the rest of us are all here for you. The other hermits would be happy to help out, I’m sure.”

The other hermits . . . well of course they would. If it was one thing they were all good at, it was supporting each other. Scar had already taken a particular interest in the egg, although Grian was still a little suspicious of him scaring it again. Mumbo had specially designed an incubator for it. Pearl was visiting him to check up on him and offer help.

All Grian had to do was convince himself to let it go. To let them help.

“I know that but . . .”

“But what? Have you had any reason to believe they wouldn’t?” Pearl asked.

“Well, no.” He thought for a while. He thought of how his friends would lend materials when needed, or how they’d help replace someone’s armor and items if they were lost. He thought about the days where they all teamed up and chose one hermit to help out, and he thought about all the things they did for the good of the entire community without even being asked.

His desire to protect the egg was strong, and putting it into the hands of another person almost felt like simultaneously a betrayal of the egg itself and the biggest leap of faith he could take. But the hermits were good at leaps of faith, because someone was always there to catch you.

“You think it’d be okay?”

“I know it’ll be okay,” Pearl replied. “I haven’t been here very long but from what I’ve seen, I know they’d all help. They wouldn’t hurt it. They might be a little mischievous sometimes,” she said, glancing at Scar’s house, “but they know how important it is and would be happy to help. They helped you before, didn’t they?”

Pearl was right, of course. Nobody on the server had any desire to hurt the egg. He trusted that. If there was anyone that he could trust, it was them.

But how would he get them all to essentially sign up for babysitting?

An idea struck him, and Grian scrambled to his feet. “Pearl, you’re brilliant. Thank you!”

She blinked, a little startled. “Always happy to help.”

•·················•·················•

Grian stood back, admiring his work. A near perfect duplicate of the egg that was currently sitting in the backpack slung around his shoulder, but at a much larger scale. It was built out of obsidian blocks and crying obsidian for the spots, and if Grian was pretty proud of how it looked.

If Grian knew anything, it was that his friends loved minigames. And Grian was not above gently exploiting that fact to get a little help--just like barge game from the last world, where he managed to get his friends to help mine out the stone from next to his mansion. Just slap the title of “game” on something and you could get a hermit to sign up for anything.

“Now . . . I just have to write the signs on the inside.”

The game Grian had come up with was officially called Tegg--he needed to stay on brand with his tag games in every world--but he’d mentally been calling it “The Babysitting Game” for a while now. Because that’s what it really was--each hermit who signed up would also sign up to watch the egg and keep it safe. He set to work outlining the rules.

RULE ONE: Protect the egg and keep it safe.

RULE TWO: Keep the egg incubated or it’ll die.

RULE THREE: Keep a close eye on the egg.

RULE FOUR: Call Grian if it starts to hatch.

Satisfied, he wrote out the rest of the instructions. Because it was a game, he wanted to make it fun for the hermits too, so he’d decided to make it like a scavenger hunt. People were allowed to take the egg, provided they adhered to the rules, and were encouraged to hide it and keep it safe. Otherwise, someone else who wanted to have it could get it. The safer the egg was, the less likely for someone else to find it. The winner was whoever had the egg the longest when it finally hatched. Grian didn’t know how long that would take, but he didn’t want to miss it either, hence rule four.

Yep, totally outsourcing his babysitting onto his friends.

Grian squinted at his wall of signs, before placing one final sign at the bottom: Grian will track the game and has final say on points and rules!

“That should do it,” he mumbled. He still wanted to keep an eye on the egg, to make sure that he knew who had it and how many people’s hands it had gone through. After all, he was the one ultimately responsible for it.

Grian pulled the egg out of the backpack and carefully placed it on the ground. He’d somehow made a habit of just speaking to it every now and then--he had no idea if the little dragon could hear anything in there, but he liked to think that it could. “Hey there,” he whispered, and stroked the top of the egg. “Some new people are going to start taking you pretty soon, but it’s okay. They’re going to give me some help and make sure you’re safe.”

He paused, taking in the little room he’d made and the wall of signs he’d written with meticulous instructions for the egg’s care. It may have been the first thing he’d built for this egg, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be his last. A baby dragon was a commitment and for the first time Grian really let himself think about what that meant, beyond just an egg that he had to carry around. Would he house it? Train it? Let it stay by his side? Would he love it?

I think I already do, he thought.

He thought of the hermits--their mischievousness, their pranks, their hard work, their friendship, and their goodness at heart. They were his family, now. What was one more addition?

“It’s okay,” he whispered to the egg. “I trust them all with my life, but more importantly, I trust them with yours.”

[wildgreentide]

More thoughts on OFMD 1.09

OK, I need to talk about the kiss and what follows it, because I have Many Thoughts. Here we go:

This scene is a lovely moment, and the noises I made during the kiss are probably inaudible to the human ear, but as tender as it is, it’s almost more bittersweet than romantic. Ed and Stede are so clearly on different levels here: Ed is all in. He’s made his choice, he’s sick of being a pirate, and he loves Stede and feels like life is more interesting with him around, so any future with him is what Ed wants.

Stede, on the other hand, isn’t there yet. He returns the kiss, but chastely, uncertain of what’s happening. I think we can be pretty certain that not only is it the first time he’s kissed a man, it’s the first time he’s ever kissed someone he had actual feelings for, even if he hasn’t yet figured out what those feelings are. And then not only is Ed kissing him, but he wants to make a plan to run away together, leave their old lives behind, and it’s just too much for Stede to take in right now. He’s already abandoned his family and his old life once, and the thought of doing it again doesn’t have the same appeal anymore.

Something else that’s going on in this scene is that Stede is realizing how much Ed has changed during their time together, largely because of him, and even though Ed seems happy with those changes, I think Stede misses the idea, the thrill, of Blackbeard the pirate. The beard is the obvious visual symbol of those changes, and Stede’s reaction to its loss is telling. Maybe some part of him is even wondering who Ed is if he’s not Blackbeard. Does it change how he feels about Ed? He’s still working that out. On top of that, he’s worried that he ruined Blackbeard – that his influence has somehow diminished him (a fear that Badminton will perpetuate when he confronts Stede later that night).

That’s a lot for him to carry around, in addition to the burden of having left his family, which is also sitting heavy on him right now. So the thought of leaving it all behind yet again, though it’s exciting and enticing, doesn’t feel right to him. Maybe he thinks it’s just another fantasy; maybe he thinks Ed has an image of him that he can’t live up to. Stede’s imagination is one of the best things about him – it’s part of what Ed loves about him – but he also recognizes when the fantasy has run its course, and I think he’s afraid that this new life Ed is proposing will all fall apart just like his last one did, that he’ll turn out to be a disappointment. (Also, let’s not forget: he hasn’t realized yet that he loves Ed!)

What makes it all the more bittersweet is that Ed doesn’t recognize Stede’s hesitation. He’s made his move, Stede has reciprocated genuinely, if not passionately, and that’s all that Ed needs to start putting his plan into action. He doesn’t see how conflicted Stede is, maybe because he’s caught up in the fantasy too.

They can’t see each other clearly. Not yet.

[n0bamak1s]

mutual - mai zenin x reader

request: “Could you write mai x non-binary s/o, where mai is realizing that she has a crush on s/o, it'd be funny to see her reaction when the s/o get asked by todo before they spar, abt the kind of woman s/o like, and s/o just shrug and answer 'mai, i guess'.” - @814519

summary: reader seems to take a liking to mai, who refuses to acknowledge her schoolgirl crush on them, and todo somehow manages to be the one to get them to stop dancing around their feelings for each other. (genre: fluff, mutual pining, slice of life-y)

warnings: swearing, mentions of fighting, mostly just fluff

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i’m sorry to take a long ass hiatus again but i have some fics i’m working on rn!! thank you all sm for being so patient with how slow i can be T_T btw this one includes some very mild miwa x reader as well just as a heads up lol!

when you first transferred schools in order to master your cursed technique, your first instinct was to raise an eyebrow at your classmates. the lineup of students in your school consisted of a boy who might as well be a bodybuilder, a blonde girl whose hair seemed to defy gravity, an awkward looking stoic boy clad in traditional clothing, a girl with a gun holster on the side of her baggy pants who wore a bored expression as her gaze met yours, and a normal looking blue haired girl standing next to some rusty looking robot. with all their strange hairstyles and odd clothing choices, combined with how nonchalant they were about their mechanical companion, they might as well be the cast of some forgotten sitcom from the 80s.

after introducing yourself to your stiff new classmates, you were whisked away to be led to your dorm by the blue haired girl (would you call her a “bluenette”?) who you learned was called miwa. as you walked, you asked her questions about her cursed technique, to which she sheepishly smiled and explained how she was the most “useless” of the students.

in response to her shameless self deprecation, you simply scoffed and sent an easy smile her way. “you really shouldn’t beat yourself up like that miwa, if you do it’ll be much easier for your opponents to.” despite the teasing nature of your words, you really did hope you’d managed to encourage her a bit.

miwa turned to you with bright eyes and a sincere smile. “that means a lot, really! it’ll be so nice to have an upperclassman here who isn’t so intimidating. i’m always so nervous to ask mai for help with stuff, so it’s nice to know you believe in me!”

her smile was infectious as you mirrored your junior’s facial expression. “there’s no need to be scared of them you know, believe me, just because they’re older doesn’t mean they have any idea what they’re doing.”

she shrugged in response. “i guess you might be right, this morning mai was practically shaking in her boots about getting to meet you, so maybe it’s all just a tough facade!”

you thought back to the girl who had introduced herself as mai.

what first caught your eye was the way she carried herself. while next to her other classmates as she introduced herself to you, arms crossed over her chest and back straight, as if it was an attempt to look high and mighty. rather than a proper introduction, she simply told you her name, before looking away boredly. the both of you chose to ignore the way todo teased her, before turning to introduce himself with a smug smile. he opened his mouth to seemingly ask you something, but was quickly cut off by mai stomping on his foot, sending him a harsh look. she glanced back at you with a slightly softer expression and a monotone apology for “his idiocy.”

you chuckled quietly at the idea of the girl who presented herself as so blunt and cold getting all nervous at the idea of your arrival.

breaking you out of your reminiscence, miwa waved her hands in front of her nervously as she turned to you. “just please don’t tell her i said that!” her guilty expression rivaled that of a kid who’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

before she could continue in her nervous exclamation about how intimidated she was by her senior, you grabbed her hands that had been motioning wildly to match her words. “don’t worry miwa, i’d never sell you out like that.” you let out a small chuckle as you examined the genuine worry on her face, to which she just sheepishly smiled. it was funny to you how scared she seemed of her seniors, but it couldn’t help you from getting an odd urge to want to protect the small girl.

“besides,” your smile turned sly “, if what you say is true, i bet mai would be too shy to even talk to me!” a loud laugh escaped your lips as you continued your way down the dorm halls with long strides. behind you, miwa sped up when remembering she was supposed to be the one escorting you to your dorm.

“come on, that’s not fair to hang it over my head like that!” she whined as she managed to match your pace.

as miwa trailed ever so slightly behind you, you caught sight of a newly familiar head of dark hair (under the fluorescent lighting you couldn’t entirely tell whether it was green or black.)

“mai!” you called out to the girl you’d been newly acquainted with, raising one hand in greeting and slinging the other around your very embarrassed looking juniors shoulders.

the girl you’d shouted to turned to you with heavy lidded eyes that gave her face a bored, almost annoyed, expression. her turning your way was quickly followed by todo, who you guessed had been standing next to her, glancing over the hallway corner to meet your gaze. those two made an odd pair, from what you could tell. in contrast to mai’s impassive greeting, todo had introduced himself with booming confidence, before going on to complain to utahime that he’d have to leave in order to make it back to his dorm to score tickets for a concert featuring takeda. in the moment, you had to stifle a laugh at the memory of such an intimidating looking dude having a huge crush on an idol with absolutely no shame about it.

mai opened her mouth to say something, but was quickly cut off by todos roaring voice. “hey new kid!” his demeanor had been as confident as you remember, despite the fact that you were pretty sure he’d forgotten your name in the short time from when you had left to see your dorm. you gave him a smile and a lopsided wave in response.

“did you snag those tickets you were worried about earlier todo?”

“easily.” he bragged as if you cared about getting a pair of tickets for yourself. “however, earlier i meant to ask you a question, but SHE,” he pointed a thumb annoyedly at his companion, “very rudely interrupted me by stepping on my foot.”

“todo…” mai’s tone seemed warning as her eyes flickered between you and him.

“as much as i would LOVE to hear what your question is todo, i really do have to go unpack” you smiled abashedly, pulling miwa to your side, who nodded with wide eyes at how unphased you were.

“it might be better to ask when we spar later.” he shrugged. “that way i can really hear your impulse answer.” he crossed his arms, clearly to look intimidating.

“works for me! i’ll see you then too, mai.” you winked at her as you tugged miwa along behind you. mai huffed at your embarrassing show of flirtatiousness, but you didn’t miss the slight flush of her cheeks as she turned from you while rounding the corner.

even as you were close to the door of your dorm at the end of the hall, you could still hear mai berating todo for how embarrassing he was.

“i think she likes me.” a cat like grin overtook your face as you stopped in front of your dorm.

“utahime said your uniform would be folded on your bed, once you’re changed you can join us for sparring.” miwa smiled bashful smile. she’d probably chosen to ignore your previous statement in hopes of not being dragged into any drama.

“thanks miwa!” you grinned and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder, to which she simply looked away timidly.

“it’s no problem, really.” she waved off your appreciation. “but between the two of us, i think you may be right about mai liking you.”

she bowed before running off, probably to get ready for sparring, leaving you grinning like an idiot in response to her revelation.

maybe the feeling was kinda mutual.

you were quick to change into your all black uniform pants and jacket, then breaking into a stride to the yard where sparring took place. that was, until you realized you were wandering rather aimlessly considering, you know, you didn’t really know where the yard was yet. peering around the hallway, your eye caught on an oh so familiar girl adorned in baggy black pants.

“hey mai!” you almost had it in you to feel bad for approaching her yet again.

almost.

“i’m kinda lost, d’you think i could walk with you?”

she nodded a yes in response, motioning with a hand for you to follow her.

after a one too many moments of awkward silence, you decided you’d have to be the one to bite the bullet and break it. “you know that thing todo was saying earlier about having a question he needed to ask me?” she looked up in a way that made her seem as if she’d just been brought out of being lost in her thoughts.

“what of it?”

“do you happen to know what it was? he seemed pretty serious about it.” well, as serious as todo could get.

to your surprise, mai attempted to stifle a chuckle, before a laugh managed to slip past her.

“it’s this totally dumb thing he likes to do.” she tilted her head slightly back so she looked at the ceiling as she talked. “to size people up, he likes to ask them what their type in women is.”

you let out a snort as you laughed, though you couldn’t say you were surprised.

“he seems like such a hopeless romantic, it’s hilarious.”

“yeah.” a soft smile painted her face. “but you’d better get an answer ready, if he thinks you’re too boring he’ll beat your ass.”

“really now?” you raised an eyebrow, to which she nodded in confirmation. “what does he classify as ‘boring’?”

she shrugged. “depends. whenever someone prefers personality he either beats the shit out of them or starts crying.” it was clear in her tone how exasperated her friend made her.

“what did you say? when he asked you?” you turned to face her fully, which made her realize how close together your faces were. for just a beat, she paused to examine your expression. despite your earlier teasing, you seemed sincere in your question. either you were oblivious to the blush spreading across her face, or you chose not to tease her for it.

before an answer could leave her parted open lips, she was interrupted by a voice calling both of your names.

“hey toshinori!” you smiled at the stone faced boy in front of you as you used mai’s shoulder as an armrest.

“it’s noritoshi.” the monotony in his voice made you stifle a laugh. “and you guys are running late for sparring, what were you even doing?”

her eyes glowered in his direction, clearly not in the mood to play hall monitor with him. “i was just being welcoming to our new classmate.”

he ignored her passive aggressive response and turned to you. “todo keeps asking where you are, so you might wanna hurry up.” with a swift turn, he began walking down the hallway with long strides.

once he seemed out of earshot, you burst into laughter, and from your arm you could feel mai’s shoulders shake from repressing a giggle.

“he walks like a goddamn penguin!” you referred to how his arms were wide at his sides and his stiff steps.

“him and mechamaru walk the exact same way, i’m starting to think he might just be a more advanced robot.” her dry tone was combatted by the way the corners of her mouth turned up in a lopsided grin.

“though, we should probably get going, even if i get a pass for being new here, i’m not sure how utahime would react to you being late.”

you didn’t notice how her eyes softened at your concern for her as you beckoned for her to lead the way.

“i don’t think she’d mind, after all utahime loves me for my pep and bubbly spirit.” her voice oozed with sarcasm while you smiled to yourself about how you’d managed to get her to loosen up.

the walk to the sparring field was quick, and it made you wonder how much time you two had taken just talking at the end of the hallway. you were greeted by the sight of your strangely styled classmates (plus the literal robot) beginning to split into pairs. before you could turn to mai with the question of partnering up, you were greeted by a todo with a firm hand on your shoulder.

“we’re partnering up, new kid!” it was more of a declaration than an offer. you smiled awkwardly as his shadow enveloped your figure, seeing mai be whisked away by momo out of the corner of your eye. if you’d looked close enough, you’d have been able to see the annoyed look mai sent at todo and the smug smile momo flashed at mai and her obvious display of jealousy.

you planted your feet on the ground that was caked in dust and prepared yourself into a fighting stance, with fists raised and legs steady. though it seemed you’d gotten prepared to defend from an attack that wasn’t coming. instead, todo marched over to you confidently. mai glanced over from her sparring, knowing exactly what was coming.

he called your name in his usual booming voice, which you were surprised he actually knew.

“what is your type in women?” he towered over you, his expression dead serious despite his absolutely ridiculous question.

feeling mai’s eyes trailing you, you glanced over to her. she mouthed something to you about not saying personality. you failed to hold back a chuckle, which seemed to snap todo out of his intimidating glower.

his gaze followed yours, which was still focused on mai for the briefest of moments.

“ohhhh i get it…you’ve got a thing for mai, huh?” he sounded like a child about to blackmail their sibling.

a furious blush overtook mai’s face practically instantly, while momo covered her mouth with a hand to suppress a laugh. you glanced between a boastful looking todo and a tomato looking mai.

“yeah i guess you could say she’s my type.” you shrugged nonchalantly, to which you could hear mai sputtering something about how you were just trying to embarrass her. miwa had a sheepish look on her face as she walked over to check on mai, though it only seemed to make her more flustered when miwa asked if she wanted to go to the nurse.

while witnessing the admittedly charming trainwreck happening in front of you, there was a moment for you to look back at todo.

“are you CRYING?”

“i have no shame in it. it’s like mai is my daughter and i’m walking her down the aisle at her wedding.”

“it’s absolutely nothing like that, todo.”

he ignored your blatant confusion at his reaction. “young love is so beautiful. you have my full blessing to date mai.” he sniffles and wiped his nose, then held it out for you to shake, to which you scrunched your nose in disgust.

“thanks for the ‘blessing’ and all, but now that we’re done with that, i think i should go spar with lover girl over there.” you threw your thumb over your shoulder to point to mai.

“you guys should join me and takeda for a double date! we can arrange a date once she finally answers my calls.” todo had a large grin, shameless about his tear stained cheeks.

“how about it?” you raised an eyebrow at mai, who had become significantly more composed in the time you hadn’t been looking in her direction.

“absolutely not.” she deadpanned, though her impassive look didn’t last very long as she leaned over to whisper in your ear, cracking a small smile reserved for you. “i’d rather we just hang out without that oaf, you know it’s embarrassing for them to see how you get me acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush.”

the moment paused for a split second for her to glance at todo, who was staring you down like a disapproving father.

“plus lord knows takeda isn’t answering him anytime soon.”

“I HEARD THAT!”

[forever-rogue]

Bitter

A/N: Pain? Pain? Did someone ask for some pain? No? Well, here’s some pain anyways! No happy endings in sight! Enjoy! Xx (also very loosely based on the song Bitter!)

Pairing: Javier x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: language, light smut (18+ only!)

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

He's here. Of course he is.

You were mildly surprised, but honestly, you'd have been more surprised if he'd skipped out. 

You clutched your glass of wine so tightly that it seemed to be a miracle that it didn't shatter into a thousand tiny little bits. Just like your heart had done. Because of him. Because of Javier.

You hated him. But in a sick and twisted way, all through how the universe seemed to work, you couldn't ever completely hate him. When you'd been good, you were good. Great even. But as soon as things turned sour, they'd gone bitter in a heartbeat. 

For a man that claimed he didn't do relationships, Javier Peña proved to be an excellent partner - a good friend, a caring lover, and a fun time. That was until he decided that relationships absolutely weren't his thing. Because everything had been a lie.

But maybe it had been you? 

Because for a man that claimed he didn't do relationships, he sure had liked it with you - until he didn't. Apparently he was willing to wager all of that again - or needed something else from someone else.

At least that's what you gleaned from the blonde that was hanging onto his arm and giggling at seemingly everything he said. It was enough to make you want to throw up then and there. 

You’d been at this silly little holiday party for long enough, you suddenly decided. Downing the rest of your wine, the slight buzz had set in but wasn’t enough to actually help to suppress your feelings, you resolved to make a few goodbyes and leave. Going home to an empty and dark apartment was better than staying here. 

“You might as well just shoot him,” Steve Murphy’s voice reached your ears and you tensed up before realizing who it was. The tall blonde was standing next to you, a drink in his own hand and a scowl on his face, “it’d be easier than glaring daggers all night.”

“Which is precisely why I’m leaving,” you took your empty flute and shoved it in his hand. You almost felt bad for snapping at him - almost. He’d been Javier’s partner and friend first and foremost, and although you’d come to know him as your own friend, it was still hard to separate the two of them. But he was a good man, and to be fair, he’d been almost as men to Javier as you had when it all went down. However, unlike you, he was stuck working with him. You were lucky enough to work for the CIA instead of the DEA, so you had the mercy of getting to easily avoid him.

“I’ve never seen her before,” he offered as if that was going to make everything better, “he’s probably-”

“I don’t care,” you insisted sharply, bitter venom lacing your words, “I really don’t, Steve. I just - I’m leaving.”

“Do you need me to-”

“I’m good,” you insisted. 

You were anything but. 

“Kid-”

“I’m good,” you repeated firmly as you pressed past him and headed for the exit of the stuffy hall. You didn’t even bother turning around to say goodbye to say or anything. You just wanted to get out of there and go home as quickly as possible. 

Fuck Javier Peña. Fuck him for making you fall in love with him, and fuck him for breaking you in one foul swoop. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You know, for someone that claims he’s not into the whole romantic relationship bullshit,” you grinned at Javi as you sat on his kitchen counter, swinging your legs back and forth as he prepared dinner, “you’re pretty good at it.”

“Hmm,” he mused as he took a sip of his beer before putting his hands on your thighs and stepping between your legs, “maybe your standards are too low, Dulzura.”

“Maybe you don’t give yourself enough credit,” you teased back, only to be silenced by Javier crashing his lips onto yours. You could already feel yourself melting into his touch, as his arms wrapped around your waist and yours around his neck, “Javi.”

Before things could go any further, the two of you were interrupted by a loud crackling from the pan. A heavy sigh left his lips as he pressed one more to your forehead before he turned back to the pan, “I will admit, I never thought I’d be here making you dinner.”

“Me specifically, or a woman in general?” you carded a hand through his dark locks before smirking at him.

“Both,” he admitted, “not a woman in general because like I said, fuck this romantic bullshit, and definitely not you, because we didn’t start on the best terms when you got here.”

“That was because you were an asshole,” you stuck out your tongue as he just laughed. 

“And you were a bitch,” you nodded at his assessment. Neither of you had been particularly kind to the other upon your first several encounters. Javier was stubborn and hard-headed, you were fierce with a lot to prove in a male dominated world. Opposites on an unwavering spectrum, and yet more alike than either of you cared to admit. That's probably why you'd both been at each other's throats time and time again - you insisted he was a chauvinistic pig; he swore you were an ice queen that just hated everyone.

One thing had led to another and eventually there was a singular moment that broke the proverbial camel's back. It had been a quiet evening with both of you trying to get work done that had led you to say something to Javier to which he had responded with a simple, but calculated, uh huh honey. 

You couldn't even respond with any words, funding yourself utterly unable, before you grabbed the collar of his slightly too tight pink button up and crashing your lips fiercely onto his. He'd responded in kind - eager and more than willing.

That night, which you'd both sworn up and down would be a one time thing, quickly turned into more. More turned into Javier dropping his nighttime visits to the brothels, and focusing on you. More had turned into this.

"I don't think we've really changed," you admitted as you reached for his beer and downed the rest of it in one go with a wicked smirk, "I think we've just come to realize we're good together. In case you haven't noticed babe, I still have to put up with so much shit. Have some tits and men find it fitting to treat you like a piece of meat."

“You know if anyone ever does or says another thing to you, I’ll-”

“I know, Javier,” you promised with a noncommittal shrug of your shoulders, "I just want to be able to do things on my own and be respected. Just like you and Steve and all the other men are."

"You outshine them all easily," he set the spoon down on the edge of the pot, crossing his arms over his broad chest, "they're idiots. You're not - never forget that."

"How very sweet," you rolled your eyes playfully at his dramatic words but you knew he was truthful, "a model boyfriend. You're better at this whole thing than you give yourself credit for."

"Yeah yeah,"  he snorted as he flipped you off, "don't get used to it - or tell anyone. Just for you, Dulzura."

"Don't worry, baby," you shot him a cheeky wink, "our little secret for now."

»»————-　♡　————-««

The door to your apartment was thrown open in anger as you stumbled in, trying to contain your tears of anger. Stumbling over your own feet, you kicked off your heels and cursed them before slamming the door shut and locking it. You weren’t drunk, nowhere near drunk to be honest, but gods did you wish you were. Anything to get the persistent thought of him out of your mind. 

He was the one that fucking cheated, and yet here you were, the one that was suffering. All while he seemed to be having the time of his life. 

A heavy sigh escaped past chapped lips as you dragged yourself to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. One look at the label caused you to audibly groan - even it had to remind you of him. It was his favorite kind, left over from one of the many times he’d brought take out and beer over for an easy dinner after a long day. 

Throwing it into the sink, the bottle shattered and the golden liquid rushed down the drain as you only cried harder. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You shouldn’t still care this much. But that was the root of the problem - you did care. Because you’d loved him, fully and completely and thought he loved you too. A silly, foolish thought. 

Dragging yourself to the couch, you flopped onto your back and covered your wet eyes with the back of your arm as you tried to calm yourself. But it only worked momentarily as you remembered all the times you’d been with him on this couch. 

How he’d pull you into his lap, and kiss you until you were both breathless. How he’d fuck you after a long hard day, coming in to find you ready and waiting for him. How he’d lay down and watch television with you next to him, a messy tangle of limbs and lips. 

How he’d said I love you for the first time on this very couch.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Javi,” your moan was like the sweetest music in his ear as he leaned down to pepper kisses along your neck and jaw. Your arms wrapped around him like a vice grip as you held his body close to yours while he thrusted into you, “right there, please. Yes.”

"I've got you, baby," he whispered as he dragged his tongue along your collarbone, continuing to meet the roll of your hips with slow thrusts, "you feel so fucking perfect."

"Right there," your eyes squeezed shut as your toes started to curl and your vision became hazy. That familiar warmth of your release washed over your whole body, "Javier."

"Fuck, Dulzura," he dropped his head and rested it in the crook of your shoulder as he felt your walls tighten around him. He moaned in your ear, low and sultry, as your huffed him to your body, "I- fuck - I love you."

And just like that it felt your whole world suddenly stopped. Your eyes snapped wide open as you tried to figure out if what you thought he said was actually said or if it was made up in your mind. But as you met his dark eyes, there was a nervous, panicked look in them. Clearly he hadn't meant to say them out loud.

"Javier?" you reached up and touched his cheek before gently brushing away a stray lock of hair. He keened into your touch as it was enough to push him over the edge and he spilled inside of you. He all but collapsed on you, suddenly boneless, the magnitude of his words not lost on him, "did you mean it? I-I don't want to hear it unless you mean it."

And then it was silent for a few moments as you tried to catch your breath.

"Yes," he finally broke the tension and slowly lifted off you. Pulling out in one fluid motion, he sat back on the couch and pulled you into his lap, "I fucking mean it. I've never said it like this before to anyone, but fuck if I don't mean it."

"Javier,” you leaned and crashed your lips against, hungry and wanting, just as needy as before he fucked you senseless. It was messy and hard, both of you fighting for dominance as his large hand found the back of your neck and he held you close to him, “you’re an asshole. But I love you too.”

“Dulzura,” his hands found your bum as he gave it a firm a squeeze and caused you to grind against him, causing him to moan into your mouth, “fuck me.”

“I plan on it,” you whispered with a smirk on your face as he practically melted into your touch.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You slid off the couch in a fit of your own tears and choked back sobs. How could you fall for such a lie; you felt so stupid, so dumb, so used. You worked for the fucking CIA, you should have been able to spot a lie from a mile away.  But this one, the one right in front of your face, whispered to you during an intimate and sacred moment, had blindsided you and played you for a fool. 

Javier Peña was a fucking liar. He did it for a living half the time; why should this have been any different? Apparently they weren’t. You were just another way for Javier to have control over something and get his pent up anger and energy. 

He had moved on, so easily, so effortlessly, all while you were here, falling apart. You’d never let someone in like this before, had never opened up to someone so fully and completely. 

This was a prime example of why you didn’t.

You pulled yourself up from the floor and wiped at your teary eyes and snotty nose and dragged yourself to the bedroom. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What are you thinking about, Dulzura?” his voice was still thick with sleep as he draped an arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest. You made a small sound of delighted surprise, but your eyes were still firmly closed. It was early still and the dawn’s morning light was just beginning to filter in through your sheer curtains.

“‘M sleeping,” you insisted groggily, barely able to contain your giggles as he pressed kisses to your shoulder. 

“Bullshit,” he whispered as you huffed in jest. He could always read you like a book; the truth was that you’d been up for some time, eyes closed as a million thoughts ran through your mind, “you’re much too quiet to be asleep.”

“You realize what you’ve said is an oxymoron, right?”

“When applied to normal people yes, but with you - no,” he called out completely and you slowly turned around so you were facing him. He was right - you tended to make some sort of noises or sounds as you slept. The fact that it was dead silent was a giveaway, “dime, Cariño.”

“It’s nothing important, Javi,” you insisted as you rested your head next to his on the soft pillow. He sighed dramatically as he traced aimless shapes into your back, his fingers surprisingly soft and warm, “in the chaos that are our lives, it’s absolutely trivial and silly.”

“I like trivial and silly - I like you,” he insisted as his soft brown eyes studied yours, “out with it, or it’ll kill me all day, baby.”

“I was just thinking about this,” you pointed to his body and yours, “us. What are we doing? What’ll happen to us when all of this is over and we can be...normal?”

“What do you want to happen?”

“I asked you first, asshole,” you laughed as he kissed your forehead, “I like this - us - but if this is all that there’s ever going to be, I kind of want to know that too.”

“What do you want?” he asked, suddenly adopting a serious, “do you want this? If you want this...I want this too.”

“Javier,” reaching up slowly, you placed a gentle hand on his cheek as you watched him for a few moments before placing a chaste kiss to his plush lips, “I want this...I want you. I’m all in.”

“I know it probably doesn’t seem like much, but you have me,” he promised, and you could feel yourself practically melting into him, “that much you never have to question.”

“I love you,” you whispered before closing your eyes and let him pull against him as you left call you back, “I mean it, Javier. I didn’t think I ever would love anyone, especially not you, but it’s true.”

“I love you too, Dulzura.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was all a fucking lie. Your chest rose and fell in anger as you grabbed the few pictures you had of yourself and Javier off of your dresser and smashed them onto the floor. The bed sheets were next, including the pillows that seemed to be doomed to smell like him for all eternity. Everything went into an angry messy pillow on the floor as you trembled with anger and upset exhaustion. 

“Oh god,” you whispered in a choked sob to yourself as you buried your face in your hands. How could it hurt this fucking much? All because of one man. 

Because you loved him so fucking much it made your heart physically ache. Because you loved him with every fiber of your being, Because you had loved him fully and fallen for every single pretty little word he offered you. Because you loved him completely and he had just dumped you as soon as you were no longer shiny and new. As soon as someone else caught his eye.

How easy it had been for him. All the while you had been an oblivious fool.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I’m going to go and start laundry,” the basket under your arm was full with a combination of your clothes. Javier had been spending more and more time at your apartment, almost like he lived there. And it was all terribly natural; a domestic bliss that effortlessly fell into place. 

“Need a hand?” Javier was busy in the kitchen making dinner for the two of you. There was finally some down time and you’d collectively decided to have a lazy, quiet weekend in.

“I got it,” you promised as you opened the door to head to the laundry, “be back in a few.”

He made a small sound of acknowledgment as you left. You hummed to yourself as you walked down the stairs and into the deserted open, grabbing the first washer you saw. Pulling out the clothes one by one, you placed them in, but confusion quickly hit you. Javier’s work shirts had a...different smell to them. Frowning, you brought the pink button up to your nose and took a good whiff. Immediately, your heart started to pound in your chest as you realized that it most definitely wasn’t your perfume or his aftershave on it. 

Quickly tossing the offending article into the washer, you grabbed another shirt and smelled it again, only to find the same thing. That’s when you realized - those were both shirts he had been wearing on the nights he’d come home extremely late, long after you’d been in bed. 

A sense of dread and doom washed over you like a tidal wave as you abandoned everything and ran up the stairs to your apartment. You burst through the door and Javier jumped at the intrusion as he looked at you with a surprised look on his face, “is everything okay?”

“I don’t know, Javier,” there was a shake to your voice as you closed the door behind you and looked him dead in the eyes, refusing to look away, “tell me - is everything okay?”

“Dulzura-”

“Your shirts,” your voice cracked as you realized you were about to hear the inevitable. You felt like you already knew the truth, but hearing it from his own mouth was what you needed, “they don’t smell like you...o-o-or me. What happened to your shirts, Javier? And you don’t lie to me. Don’t you dare fucking lie to me.”

“If you have to ask, then you already know,” how easily he steeled himself as he set his spoon on the stove and turned off the pot. No emotion crossed his face as he started back at you with a neutral mask; Agent Pena was in full force, “look, dul - what do you want me to say?”

“Something? Anything?” tears had already pearled up and cascaded down your cheeks as you started at him in awe, “tell me you didn’t fucking cheat on me and you’re being this causal about this.”

“Then I won’t say it,” he whispered as he took a step closer, “because you already know.”

“You’re not even going to try and defend your actions?” you felt like this must have been some sort of hysterical joke at your expense. Everything was crumbling down around you and he didn’t even seem to care, “Javier, I love you - I’m….I’m in love with you. Y-you told me you loved me too...that you wanted this.”

“For someone that works for the CIA you're not very observant sometimes,” he shook his head as he took a long breath in and out, “look...I’m not going to try and defend my actions or lie to you. I needed the information you could provide to me so I could get a leg up on your little department. This is a messy game, chiquita, a messy game where you can’t trust anyone and you need to watch your every move. In this game, you win or you die, there’s no other way to look at it. You gave me what I needed, so I gave you what you needed.”

“A lie,” your mind was reeling as you tried to make sense of it all and his words crashed around your ears. None of this was ever real….it was all a lie, a horrid, painful lie. At your expense, “it never meant anything to you.”

“I care about you,” he insisted as you scoffed between your sobs, “and I do want to keep you safe. I just...you had more insight than I could have imagined. It was a good thing while it lasted, right? Why look at this as more than it was?”

“Because I love you!” you shouted at him, “because this was real to me! Because I imagined a life and a future with you. How could you do this? You could have just been honest with me…”

“We both know that never would have worked,” he laughed bitterly, “but think of all the good times, they were real at the time, weren’t they? You were happy…”

“While living a lie,” you reminded him, “it was never real. You never...you never loved me. I should have known that none of this ever meant anything to you.”

“Listen-”

“When would you have told me the truth?”

“Eventually,” he shrugged as he stared at his feet, “we’re not alloted this type of life, this romantic bullshit - we’re just not. You have to accept and move on.”

“Get out,” you couldn’t believe that every good thing in your life for the past year had been a lie. Who else had known? Who else was in on it?

“I will keep you safe,” he promised but you weren’t even sure if you could trust that much. When did his lies start and stop?

“I said get out,” you threw open the door and pointed at it for him to leave, “I never want to see you or hear your voice again. If I do, it will be too soon. I loved you, Javier. I really fucking did. I can’t believe I actually pictured a future with you. I can’t believe I thought I meant a goddamn thing to you. Get out and leave and don’t ever come back.”

“I-”

“Get out!” you screamed as you rushed down the hall to your bedroom and slammed the door closed. You collapsed onto the floor into a fitful, sobbing rage. You heard him igh heavily a few times before the sounds of his retreating footsteps reached your ears and he left, closing the door gently behind him. 

You felt like a fucking fool. Used and hurt and worst of  - heartbroken.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Examining the mess on your floor, you gave it a good kick before leaving the room and your apartment all together. You quickly ran outside and down the few blocks to Javier’s apartment, clutching at the spare key in your pocket. 

You could see that his lights were off, and he likely wouldn’t be home for sometime. You jogged up the stairs and let yourself into his place, sighing at the familiarity of it all. 

It looked exactly like it had the last time you’d been there. Pictures of the two of you were strewn through and you still found your clothes hanging in his closet.

Just like you had done at your own place, you smashed each picture on the floor, making sure it was all utterly destroyed. Your clothes were ripped to shreds and joined the glass rubble. It was probably wrong, probably too childish, but in the moment you didn’t care. Your entire love, your entire future had all been a lie. 

When you were satisfied with your handiwork, you threw the key on top of the pile and walked out, not even bothering to slam the door. You walked back home slowly, soaking in the sights and sounds of the city at night. It was calming - grounding even - usually. But tonight it failed completely. All you could focus on was your ragged breathing and the blood pounding in your ears. 

It all served as a singular reminder.

You were stupid, foolish, and dumb. And now - bitter. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[desiredmalfoy]

You Walked Away From Me (Fred x Reader)

House: Left it for the reader to choose

Relationship: Fred x Reader (Draco x Reader friendship??)

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.4 K

I’m back with another more Fred Angst! I listened to drivers license by Olivia Rodrigo when writing this. It’s not really based on it but the song helped me get in that mindset. It’s such an amazing song! This is is in the same universe as the Dear Malfoy one I wrote. You don’t have to read it to enjoy this but I highly recommend that you do! No Voldemort in this universe. Italics are the readers thoughts. Also no Angelina slander! I had to pick a female character. 

Masterlist

Enjoy! :)

Falling out of love is expected, especially if two souls aren’t meant to be.

He had told me not to worry about her. She’s only a friend....

It was natural for Fred to be around Angelina Johnson. They were in the same year and she was the Gryffindor quidditch captain. It was only natural for their worlds to intertwine.  But that didn’t mean you didn’t worry about her being around your boyfriend. Every insecurity you’ve ever felt multiplied every time you saw her. She was tall like the models you saw grace the covers of the muggle magazines, she was just as pretty as them. Plus she had a good amount of the boys at Hogwarts vying for her attention. You felt so young and immature compared to her. Which was one of the reasons you refused to tell Fred of your constant thoughts of the insecurities you felt. 

You had no reason to be insecure about the time he spent with her. 

Because he had honestly not given you a reason to doubt him. He had never given you a reason to be suspicious of him. Your relationship with him had honestly been a dream until right now. He had asked you to the Yule Ball in such a simple and intimate manner. The whirlwind that was your fourth year also brought you love. You didn’t think you would ever find someone who truly loved you for you. But Fred showed you that he did. Someone who made every day worth it. During the summer you wrote to each other every day until he finally invited you to come over to the burrow. Your parents were hesitant to let you go at first since this year was different. You would around your boyfriend but you had managed to convince them after informing them that your Ginny and Hermione would also be there and that you had previously visited them already. 

He had even told you he loved you for the first time while you were there. You thought everything in your relationship was going smoothly.

This year was Fred’s final year at Hogwarts so it was expected for him to be much busier than usual. You would never hold that against him. He had spoken to you about his plans to open a shop with George after leaving school. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have to finish this year, Molly would not permit that to happen. But he still made time for you no matter what. He would look for you at every chance he had. You treasured each fleeting moment with the ginger boy who had stolen your heart. 

But things started to change slowly and you couldn’t help but notice.

Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to the changes you saw in him. The newfound lack of time he now had for you. The way you noticed he no longer looked at you the same way. When he no longer held your hand for long. The way he toned you out when you spoke to him about the newest adventure you had read. He had always asked for the book after you so he could read it for himself too. Slowly over time, he stopped asking what you were reading and wanting to be a part of your world. 

I wish I could’ve erased all our time together.

You were going to sneak into the boy’s dormitories to return to give Fred back his potions book he had accidentally left in the library when the two of you were studying. This was the first time in a couple of days she had even spent more than five minutes with her boyfriend. He had suggested that they study together and you had jumped on the opportunity to spend more time with him. Even if it was in silence but you were with him.

Normally she would’ve kept the book and just gave it to him in the morning. But with his unusual behavior as of recently, you weren’t sure you would even see him in the morning before class. Snape already had it out for Fred and him showing up without his potions book would definitely be costly for him. 

She was used to sneaking into the dormitory as she sometimes hung out with Fred in his room. She walked to the familiar door she was used to seeing. You stopped suddenly when she heard Fred’s voice. He was talking to someone and she wanted to make sure she wasn’t intruding into the conversation. Must be George or another dorm mate. 

That’s when she heard a female voice. Angelina 

“Fred are you sure what you’re saying”, Angelina said softly, you could barely hear her. 

There was a pause for a couple of seconds. What do they mean? 

“Yes”, Fred finally spoke. “I like you…”

“But what about (y/n)”, Angelina questioned him. You can hear that her voice had started to become shaky. 

You felt your heart breaking as if it was physically being shattered. It felt as if someone had torn it straight from your chest and now was mercilessly breaking your glass heart it into nothing.

You had heard enough and you pushed the door open without much warning. You startled the both of them as they jumped far away from each other. 

“Oh hey (y/n)...wha-what’s wrong”, Fred stuttered as he made his way toward you.

“You left your potions book in the library”, you answered showing zero emotion in your voice as you threw the book on his bed. It bounced off his mattress and landed with a hard thud on the floor. 

“I need to talk to you alone”, you said as you emphasized the last word directly at Angelina. 

They gave each other a look and Angelina exited the room. As she was leaving her eyes kept looking between the two of you. But you kept your vision trained on Fred and didn’t spare a glance at the girl leaving.

“Since when Fred”, you spoke coldly to him as soon as you heard the door close.

“I-I-I….please let me explain”, Fred said as he attempted to grab your hands. You pulled them away as if his touch was burning you. Maybe it did in a way.

“Then explain and no excuses.” Tears were already forming in your eyes.

“Since the end of October”, he said while looking at you.

“The more time we spent together, the more I realized my feelings were changing”, he continued to speak to you. “Things changed (y/n) and I’m sorry.”

“You said you loved me”, you cried softly as tears were now pouring down your face. Your voice betrayed what you truly felt. You wanted to yell at him until your throat got raw and could no longer yell at him. “I guess you never truly meant it when you said you loved me.”

“I did! I-I...thought I di-...the love changed from romantic to simply as a friend. I meant it when I said it”, Fred exclaimed as he ran his fingers through his hands. Completely frustrated at the situation before him that he created. “Please (y/n), I still love you and care about you as my friend.”

“Stop! You don’t get to call me your friend Fred Weasley”, you yelled at him. This outburst surprised him as he had never seen you act this way. “You lost that privilege.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you”, Fred said while looking into your eyes pleadingly. 

All that pent up anger and insecurities were finally spilling over. She was over this.

“Just shut up….you’re such a git Fred Weasley”, you said while angrily wiping the tears on your face. “It’s obviously over but that’s exactly what you wanted.”

“(y/n), please…..”

“Some Gryffindor you are, you’re nothing but a coward Fred Weasley.”

Wanting to get the final word in she quickly left his room and slammed the door. She hurried down the hall of the boys’ dormitories looking to get out of here as soon as possible. It felt like she was suffocating. 

She accidentally bumped into someone as she was exiting the common room. She threw out a lame apology and kept walking without stopping. She didn’t really care at this moment. She hurried down the school looking for a place that they wouldn’t look for her. She just wanted to be alone today. 

I wish I could turn back time to the moments we were happier. 

(Y/N) sat at the top of the astronomy tower with tears spilling from her eyes. At some point, she could no longer cry and just let the tears silently slip from her eyes. Her body felt heavy from the minutes she had already spent sobbing. Her eyes were swollen and all she wanted to do was close them and sleep. But she was outside right now and she honestly didn’t feel like getting up right now. (Y/N) felt pathetic at the fact that she thought Fred had ever truly loved her. He claimed that at one point he did but she couldn’t even be sure of that. The presence of the moon and stars that glistened in the sky brought some peace to her at this moment. (Y/N) was so lost in her thoughts that she failed to hear the footsteps coming up the tower. 

“(Y/L/N)? What are you doing here”, questioned a voice that (y/n) immediately recognized. 

Draco Malfoy.

She quickly whipped her head to face the boy who was making his way towards her. 

“Look Malfoy”, (y/n) responded with a long sigh. “I’m not in the mood today. So if you’re going to throw some insults my way…. just do it. I don’t care anymore.”

“You seem like a mess (y/l/n)”, Draco said as he sat down on the floor next to (y/n). He still kept his distance though. 

“You sure have a way with words Malfoy”, (y/n) said with an eye roll. “So charming.”

“I’m stating the obvious. What’s wrong?”

“Why should I tell you”, she responded defensively. “So you can go tell the rest of your friends and tease me about it.”

“Fine. Then don’t say anything.”

There were a few seconds of silence before he spoke again

“I wouldn’t kick you when you are already down”, Draco said so quietly that (y/n) could barely hear him say it. 

“Why wouldn’t you? You clearly hate me”, she scoffed at him.

“I never hated you (y/n). I just greatly disliked those you decided to make yourself an acquaintance with”, he said nonchalantly. 

“Well...you’re in luck because I definitely won’t be around them now”, (y/n) said simply as she stared at Draco. 

Draco only starred at her with a confused expression on his face. He honestly didn’t know what to say next.

“He cheated on me”, (y/n) finally said to him. She saw his eyes soften at her confession.

“And you know what’s worse? My supposed friends probably knew. George definitely did”, (y/n) said as she ranted to Draco. Someone she never thought she would even speak to unless it was to trade snide remarks. 

“Well if they never told you they were never truly your friend.”

“Plus he’s their brother and much closer to him. It’s only expected that I’m going to be the one pushed to the side.”

“Well if you need someone to talk to, I’m here every night.”

“Why are you being so nice to me”, (y/n) questioned him. They had never been on best terms but it’s because she had learned to ignore him and pay no attention to his remarks.

“Everyone needs someone to talk to and like I said I never hated you.” 

(Y/N) thought about this for a while. She was conflicted on trusting Draco, especially after their shared history. She was emotionally vulnerable at the moment and wasn’t in the best mindset to make a decision.

“It’s getting late, we should go before one of the prefects comes up here”, (y/n) said to him.

“Your right”, he said simply as he stood up. “The offer still stands (y/l/n).”

With that Draco Malfoy walked away from her and left her baffled at what just had occurred. 

Darling how I wish last night was just a nightmare…

(Y/N) had been trying to avoid her friends the whole day. She decided to not show up to breakfast and avoid the awkward situation. Plus they were her only friends and she didn’t really have anywhere else to sit other than with maybe Luna. She was more of an acquaintance but she knew that she wouldn’t deny her a spot. She had skipped any class that she shared with them and hid from the rest of the day. But she couldn’t skip dinner. She was hungry and her candy stash was depleting quickly. Plus she couldn’t live off sweets. She had to go.

As she walked into the great hall, she felt nervous about what she was going to do. She didn’t want to face this right now. She was going to just keep on walking and make her way towards Luna. But once she entered she only made it a short distance before her entire mind went blank when she made eye contact with Fred. Hermione saw her next and started to stand up to make her way towards her. She has to get out of here.

Maybe she could live off her candy for a couple more days. She turned around quickly and started to make her way towards the door. But someone grabbed her hand. Not right here.

“Come sit here (y/l/n)”, Draco said as she looked down at him. He was sitting by himself and that was unusual considering that his friends were always around.

“Your friends won’t mind”, she questioned him. She noticed that her friends had all turned their attention to her and Draco. They were all looking at them.

“It doesn’t matter what they think.”

She looked at Draco and then at Hermione who was still standing and assessing the situation. She took her hand away from Draco’s grasp and sat down next to him. She turned to look at them one more time. They looked extremely confused at her actions. Fred looked at her with obvious annoyance on his face. She couldn’t believe he even thought he had the right to be annoyed.

She knew she couldn’t run from them, but she would deal with that another day.

I’m thinking of maybe continuing this?? 

Reminder: None of my work can be reposted anywhere. It doesn’t matter if you give credit, please do not repost!

[eternally-writing]

splish splash | myg

genre : fluff

rating : G

pairing: Yoongi x reader

theme: idol!au, established relationship! au

word count: 2k

warnings: none

synopsis: After a long day, you and Yoongi try to take a bath together

This was a request from @gloryofroses19​ that you can read here!

–♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡–

“You look dead, babe”

Yoongi was standing at your door, knocking on your door instead of pulling out his spare key since he was so tired. He looked a little bit like a zombie, except a very handsome one.

He knew that you would always have his favorite snacks on hand so he could always come to your place after practice to enjoy some tangerines and get some time away from the dorms (after all, after 7 hours of practice with the boys he did need a break from him), and to be honest, with how tired felt he didn’t even know how he managed to drive himself over to your place.

“Oof, i need to sit down babygirl, today was brutal and my muscles are going to give out on me if I try to take another step”

He plopped down with a grunt onto your couch, pulling a pillow into his chest. He immediately sank like a heavy rock in the ocean into the soft material of your couch.

Shaking your head at your boyfriend clearly having overworked himself, you walked over with a plate of oranges and a glass of cold water.

“I can’t give you the same rant about not overworking yourself every week Yoongi,” you said with a slightly frustrated tone. You continued on to explain why he needed to take care of himself - all with love though of course.

Taking one hand to rub it through his hair, you sat on the arm of the couch beside him.

He couldn’t help the light moan that escaped his lips at your hands caressing his scalp. It was a sharp contrast to how his muscles felt a mere couple of hours ago at the dance studio.

Lightly grabbing your hand, he tried to move it away.

“Baby you have to stop, or I’m - “

He stopped partway to let you a big yawn, stretching his legs simultaneously. You could practically feel him unravel under your touch, voicing his reactions to you.

“What was I saying again? I’m gonna, I’m gonna fall asleep babe,” murmured Yoongi with half closed eyelids.

“Just stay the night, you look way too exhausted to even move,” you cooed to him, taking in his exhausting figure beneath you.

Yoongi groaned, wishing that he could accept your offer, but he knew he really shouldn’t (especially if he wanted to get to practice at 8am tomorrow).

“Trust me babe, I would, but I need to shower so badly. You and I both know that I stink right now.”

You laughed and hugged him tightly for effect.

“That’s a non-issue Yoongi. I love you, even if you smell like…”

You took a dramatic whiff in to smell your boyfriend.

“Sweat and tteokbokki and…” Your face turned in confusion as you tried to decipher the last smell. Yoongi jumped in to finish your sentence.

“Taehyung’s new cologne”

You repeated it affirmatively with a slight grimace painting your face. “Taehyung’s new cologne.”

To his dismay, you began to drag your boyfriend off of your couch and towards your bathroom, because you were not about to let your freshly-washed sheets pick up Yoongi’s scent.

--♡♡–

It didn’t take an engineer to see that fitting both you and Yoongi into your bathtub was going to be no simple task.

Your studio apartment was the perfect size for you to live in before you started dating Yoongi. Over time, Yoongi started by having a toothbrush in your bathroom, then his clothes started to form a small pile in your bedroom, then you cleared out part of a drawer for him. Somehow, your apartment seemed to grow to accommodate the two of you together. Correction: all of your apartment seemed to grow to fit the two of you except for your bathtub.

Until Yoongi came into your life you believed showers were just about hygiene, a quick 5 minutes to hop in, scrub down your body, and hop out. Yoongi on the other hand, found that baths were the biggest luxury he missed during all of his trainee days. One time when he took a bath at your place you put in a tangerine scented bath bomb you bought him for Christmas, and he swore he saw heaven with how relaxed the bath made him.

Although throughout your relationship Yoongi had managed to convince you to try many new things (like drinking a cup of water before every meal or watching Brooklyn Nine Nine), he had yet to convince you to try the so-called wonders of baths. That was at least until now.

Compromise was basically Yoongi’s middle name, as he conceded to your pleas for him to sleep over with the condition that you take a bath with him. He mustered up his last bits of energy to throw some puppy dog eyes at you that you knew you couldn’t resist. And the smile that graced his face after you said yes confirmed to you that you definitely made the right decision.

That brought you to here. You and Yoongi were just staring at your tiny tiny tub, wondering how this was even going to work. Putting the knowledge from your one high school physics class to work, you realized that you would need to fill the tub with less water than usual.

As soon as the tub was filled, Yoongi was quick to shed his clothes and hop in, immediately moaning in response to how the water instantly began to relax his muscles. He took a couple seconds to enjoy the sensation before beckoning for you to join him.

Still apprehensive, you hoped that you could back out of your deal and tried to make him settle for you just sitting on the edge of the tub, promising to wash his hair (and in the words of your favorite TV character Charles Boyle, it was the most intimate thing you could do to a partner with your fingers).

However, Yoongi started to splash some water like a frustrated child, begging for you to join him with his open arms. The sight of your boyfriend eager to spend time with you was something that you couldn’t resist. You started to peel off your shorts and sweater and then took your favorite place - right in Yoongi’s arms. However, you didn’t reach that without any difficulties, bumping your arm on three different places before reaching your man.

You hit a slight snag as you realized that your knees were barely extended away from your chest, unable to even stretch out your legs. Half submerged in the water, you craned your head around to give Yoongi a look that said “I told you so, this isn’t going to work”.

Not taking no for an answer, Yoongi pulled you closer to him in his lap, placing you on his thighs to give you a couple extra inches of leg room. His hands also crawled up to your shoulders, started to lightly massage the knots that had accumulated over time. The relaxation that overcame you was overwhelming - your head came to rest on his shoulder, letting his magic fingers work their way over you.

“Mmm Yoongi, I thought this was supposed to help you relax? And even though this feels amazing, I want to help you relax.”

Yoongi didn’t stop his ministrations, and he whispered in your ear.

“You’re another part of me, Y/N. Seeing you relaxed makes me feel even more relaxed.”

You grinned at his sweet words and wanted to give him a big kiss, but that proved to be a difficult task as you felt your knee collide with the side of the porcelain tub with a bang.

Hearing you groan in pain, Yoongi immediately scooped you closer into his arms, bringing your knee up to be inspected by him. With his self-learned medical knowledge, he declared that the bump was nothing a little kiss couldn’t fix, and he began to pepper kisses all over your knee, getting distracted as his kisses also started drifting upwards on your thighs. The scenario seemed all too silly and domestic, and it made you both laugh harder than you should. You pulled his head away from your body, knowing that he was far too tired to get through anything but that he would get caught up in his ministrations.

After you both resumed your original positions, Yoongi swept a hand through his hair and pulled you closer to him. He leaned closer to whisper in your ear and you expected to hear him whisper sweet nothings to you - instead in Yoongi-fashion, he had instead blurted out -

“Should we put some bubbles in here?”

Instantly, you chuckled. Still not receiving an answer from you, Yoongi continued on.

“You keep telling me that you haven’t had a bath since you were little - and who doesn’t like bubbles?”

Yoongi had a great point, and your next question of “where are we even going to find bubble solution” was quickly answered by your boyfriend pointing to a gracious welcoming gift that had been collecting dust on a shelf in your bathroom.

--♡♡–

For most couples, a romantic bath probably meant that there would be candles and rose petals, but you and Yoongi didn’t need all that. Each others’ presence was all you’ve ever wanted and all you’ve ever needed (although the bubbles were a nice addition).

You felt Yoongi’s fingers tapping on you on the shoulder, gesturing for you to attempt to turn around to face him.

You were met with the sight of Yoongi piling bubbles onto his chin to create a faux beard. He was unable to stop his giggles from bubbling over, making the bubbles on his face fly off into the air.

“C’mon, give it a try Y/N”.

His hands were full of bubbles and he began layering them on top of your head, making something that one could only assume was a party hat created out of bubbles.

“That’s my pretty girl”

No matter how many times Yoongi said that to you, it still brought a blush onto your cheeks. You leaned in to give him a peck on the lips, only to grimace as you were met with the taste of soap in your mouth.

With more stolen kisses, some light shoulder massages, and a couple bumps and snags as you navigated your tiny tub, you and Yoongi managed to relax and unwind after a long, tiring day.

“I love you Y/N”

You smiled and let yourself relax further into his hold.

“I love you too babe, always”

“Enough to clean up all the water that we’ve spilled out of your bathtub by now?”

You playfully splashed your boyfriend, tickling his sides slightly to make him squirm before you settled back into his hold.

“Oh shush, that’s a later problem, just let me enjoy cuddling with you for now. The smell of Taehyung’s new cologne is finally starting to fade.”

Maybe baths weren’t so bad after all.

–♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡–

If you like what you read please make sure to interact/follow! Thank you for reading ♡ - Emily

[dreamingofaizawa]

Powerful Ch. 4

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: A little fluff, misogyny (not from Shouta), descriptions of body part removal, blood, a teeny bit of gore (sort of), violence, a dagger, reader is a little bit crazy, so is Shouta tbh, there's a tiny bit of spice (it's like two sentences idk), swearing

Word Count: 4.2k if you read the violent part, 3.3k if you don't.

Author's Note: Okay, so I decided to make this a full part with the option of skipping the kinda graphic part. Yes, reader is a little insane here, yes, this reflects my level of crazy. HOWEVER, the only reason it's like that is because the man being de-tongued is a piece of shit and deserves everything that came to him.

ANYWAY, enjoy~

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

*

*

*

As the months pass you’re getting more comfortable with Shouta, more comfortable with the physical touching and the closeness that comes with the relationship. He’s always on you, a hand always on your lower back, around your waist, he’d even begun holding your hand. You appreciate this side of him that only you are allowed to see, the soft beneath his rough, calloused exterior.

So far you’d attended at least six more meetings, only one ending in another incident. It was you that made the final threat, this time without unsheathing the dagger. The tactic seemed to be working, there were less men outwardly demeaning you and your assigned title has been the only one you’d heard when being addressed.

The power trip is honestly a little intoxicating, knowing that more began to respect you and the ones that don’t have fear in its place. Knowing that you have the freedom to tell off overly rude men, can wave your dagger at whoever dares touch you and have Shouta backing you always.

And you know Shouta will back you up. You may be on a bit of a power trip but you still have your wits about you. Both of you know you’ll never step out of line, never needlessly flaunt your power or antagonize for no reason. Shouta understands that whatever you do, it’s for a reason. Because that’s just how you operate.

Logic resides over most anything else in your brain, which is why you’re so good at concealing your emotions. Before the engagement, your family’s success depended heavily on wits and intelligence rather than sheer force. Having been taught all your life to use your brain and logic to help you in and out of situations, logical thinking has become a habit, as subconscious and natural as breathing.

Of course, that doesn’t mean everything you do is logical. You’ve had your fair share of rash decisions and emotional slip-ups. And you’ve learned to sharpen your words, make them sink deep and tear at your target’s weakest points, or even their strongest points, making their argument and resolve come tumbling down like a rockslide. Needless to say it’s immensely satisfying to see someone get so thoroughly humiliated by your words alone.

You have to admit to yourself sometimes, you can be a cruel motherfucker.

* * *

You’re woken up by movement. Your eyes open just as Shouta is leaning over you, carefully pulling his arm from beneath your shoulders as you’re placed on your back. When his eyes meet yours he sighs through his nose, he was clearly trying not to wake you. Calloused fingers brush a few stray hairs from your forehead before he leans down and presses a kiss there.

“Go back to bed, little one. I’ll wake you up in a few hours.” Your eyebrows knit together and you let out a small groan.

“What time is it?” His soft hum nearly lulls you back into dreamland, but you manage to keep your heavy eyelids open.

“5 am. Sleep.” He kisses your forehead again before slipping out of bed and disappearing out the bedroom door. You do try to go back to sleep, let your eyes close and snuggle up in Shouta’s leftover warmth. But then you smell coffee. You take a deep breath, soak in the scent, and suddenly you’re not tired anymore. With a new motivation you get up and make your way to the kitchen to find a shirtless Shouta pulling a mug from a cupboard and taking out creamer and sugar. You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his trim waist, pressing your cheek into his back.

“I thought I told you to go back to sleep, little one.” You hum, squeeze him tighter.

“I smelled coffee.” The muscles under your palms jump with his deep chuckle, and he takes out another mug for you. The two of you work in comfortable silence, savoring each other’s company. You sit at the dining table first, watching the man as he returns everything to its place. You can’t help but admire his form, how every muscle ripples under his inked skin, how calm and graceful his movements are despite his rough-cut reputation. You can’t help when your gaze drifts south, gray sweatpants sitting low on his cut hips, and your face burns as you realize exactly what you’re looking at before ripping your eyes from him.

He joins you at the table soon after with his mug held in one large hand. There’s still only silence, and you keep your eyes locked on your own mug, occasionally bringing it up to your mouth and taking sips of the hot liquid. Shouta’s eyes are on you, watching every small movement and sigh that escapes you after a sip of coffee, how your mouth turns up after your tongue peeks out to lick your lips, the flutter of your lashes as you savor the taste of the bitter drink.

You don’t notice until your eyes flick up and meet his, and you freeze in place for a moment, confused as to why he might be looking at you. He thinks you look so cute, your doe eyes big and round and your head tilting to the right. Do you even know you’re tilting your head like that? His heart nearly bursts in his chest when you blink a few times and nibble at your lower lip.

“Shouta?” He hums and averts his eyes, resting his elbow on the table and his head in his hand.

“I apologize for staring, little one.”

“It’s fine. I’m just not used to the attention, that’s all.” An eyebrow raises, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips.

“Really? A pretty little thing like you, not used to attention?” You blink. Is he….flirting? You can’t stop a smile from working its way onto your face, your eyes dropping to focus on your coffee that was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. A man had never done this before, you never had any romantic attention because you were never allowed to date. Something warm settled in your stomach, making you feel a bit fuzzy and happy. Is this what butterflies are supposed to feel like? Shouta speaks in your flustered silence.

“Well it isn’t my fault I’m the only one with an amazing taste in women. At least now I know I won’t have any competition.” You had to stifle a giggle at his antics, shooting him a sceptical look.

“Shouta Aizawa, are you flirting with your fiance?”

“If I were, would you say it’s working?”

“That answer will depend on the end goal.” He hummed, glancing up at the ceiling as if it held the answer.

“I’d say the end goal is to get my fiance to like me back.” You cross your arms over your chest, faking a pout and turning your head away in false disgust.

“Well then it’s failing. Miserably, at that.” He places a hand on his chest, furrowing his brows in mock offense.

“Now why would you say that?” You stand, taking your mug to the sink with a playful swing of your hips and a dramatic lilt in your voice.

“She is unhappy, your fiance. You’ve neglected her!” With the mug in the sink you lean back, throwing your head back and placing your hand on your forehead, closing your eyes for dramatic effect even though your back is to him.

“She is hungry, Shouta! There is no food in her stomach!” Without a sound he’s suddenly behind you, pressing his chest into your back and leaning over to place his mug next to yours. You’re a bit shocked at the sudden proximity, jump just a bit when an arm wraps around your waist and he grabs the hand that was on your forehead. His breath is hot on your neck, voice soft and sultry in your ear.

“Well she’s not the only one that’s hungry.” Teeth nip at your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and heat to your belly.

“But we can fix that pretty easily, don’t you think?” He leaves a searing kiss beneath your ear before he’s releasing you, cool air washing over you where his body had been pressed only moments ago. You’re left flustered, breath stuttering and skin hot. It’s almost laughable, the reaction he’d pulled from you. He asks what you want to eat, says he’ll have it brought up so the two of you can relax until the meeting at lunch.

But you aren’t really listening, still trying to calm yourself from what he’d just done.

____

When you don’t answer him, he peers over at you still standing at the sink. At first he’s confused, not sure why you’re so still and unfocused. But then he watches as your chest rises and falls just a tad faster than normal, lower lip tucked just barely between your teeth and your body very stiff in the same position he’d just left you in. You’re either extremely flustered or very uncomfortable with what he just did. Before he can apologize you suddenly turn on the sink and splash your face with cold water.

“Are you okay?” It’s cute, how you jump at the sound of his voice. It’s almost like you forget he’s there, too focused on whatever had been swirling around in that beautiful mind of yours.

“Yeah, I uh...I’m fine.” The nervous little chuckle you let out said nothing of your emotional state. He’d have to ask himself.

“I apologize if that was too forward, little one. I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.” You waved your hands in front of your face, eyes going a bit wide. It’s odd, seeing you outwardly, and frantically, expressing emotion like this when you’re usually so calm and rational.

“No, not at all!” You stopped, dropping your gaze and clasping your hands in front of you, your voice getting softer as you speak.

“I mean, I wasn’t, really. I… didn’t hate it so… yeah.” Ah, so you’re flustered. It makes sense, seeing as you said you aren’t used to receiving attention. The real question is why you hadn’t gotten attention from potential suitors. You’re a beautiful woman, a goddess in your own right, and on top of that you’re intelligent and flexible, easy to get along with. Were you just surrounded by extremely stupid boys your whole life that couldn’t tell the difference between a rock and a diamond if it were sitting in front of them?

Well it doesn’t matter much anymore, because you’re his now, and he’s not going to let you go.

____

Ultimately, the two of you decide on a simple breakfast, eating and relaxing afterward just as Shouta wanted. Soon you’re both standing outside a large hotel, the restaurant at the top serving as today’s meeting venue.

You’re greeted at the door by an escort, a woman in a beautifully tailored suit, who then guides you through the hotel and to a secluded elevator and up to the restaurant. The entire floor remained empty and silent, save for the one chef and waiter and the ten other Yakuza men seated at a large round table.

At this point you’ve gotten used to the sudden silence as you approach and sit at the table with Shouta. For the past few meetings that’s the only real acknowledgement to your presence aside from the occasional headbow and a quick address to both yours and Shouta’s titles. It’s a small step forward, recognition, and it’s better than you had expected by now.

However, it becomes obvious that the recent halt in outwardly opposing voices were only the calm before the storm. Nothing you’d seen or heard yet matched what happens next.

“Shouta, old friend, why have you brought a woman to this meeting? Or any meeting for that matter?” Well shit. Someone really wants to die today. Shouta doesn’t seem to move at all, though his eyes flicker over to the man who had spoken. He seems around Shouta’s age, light brown hair short with an undercut and deep brown eyes. A scar cut through his face, from his right temple through his eye and across his nose to his left cheek.

The fact that he’d addressed him so casually meant he must have a rank close to Shouta’s, there’s no possible way he was a real friend. Shouta makes his viewpoints clear, the only person you’d see him refer to as ‘friend’ is Hizashi Yamada, who’s just as much of a feminist as he is, though the loud blonde is radically louder and more flamboyant than Shouta.

“You are not my friend, nor I yours. We may have known each other for a long time but that does not change how much I despise you. You’re lucky I don’t carve your tongue out for what you just said, so I suggest you be extremely cautious choosing your next words.” The man doesn’t seem affected by the threat, but you know Shouta’s tone of voice. He’s dead serious. The brunette only succeeds in digging himself into a deeper hole.

“Oh don’t be like that. You know as well as I do you can’t do anything to harm me for no real reason. Besides, it’s obvious she doesn’t belong here. She probably has close to no experience with such power, let alone being able to keep up in a meeting of this caliber. You’ve chosen poorly, my friend. My sister would have been a much better match for your wife.”

Now you’re seething. He’s openly insulting you, which is plenty grounds for Shouta to react negatively. Shouta’s word is law after all. Of course, he waits a beat for you to react first, and you do, speaking with a venom reserved specifically for assholes like him.

“‘She’ has a title, and you’d be wise to use it.” Shouta leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as he watches the events unfold. The brunette only scoffs.

“Like I’d use such a ridiculous title for you. Being Shouta’s fiance doesn’t change your rank at all, you’re inferior. Even disregarding rank, you’re a woman, you don’t belong here anyway.” You’re still deadpanned, only a single eyebrow raised.

“As far as you’re concerned I do belong here. And the title is anything but ridiculous. By refusing to address me at all you’re disobeying Shouta’s direct order. I wonder, what kind of punishment does that entail?” You look over to Shouta, who opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by the other man. All the while the other nine men sit back in silent horror as he digs his own grave.

“No punishment at all. A bitch like you is hardly worth a title, let alone be addressed by name. You’re lucky I’ve even allowed you in this meeting.” At that you stop, letting out a low ‘ah’. Shouta is smirking, an evil thing that you had never seen up until now, but you know what it means all the same. It means you get to have fun. You take your dagger and slide it across the table to the man, who looks at it with confusion.

“Cut out your tongue.” Your words catch him off guard, his eyes wide before he starts laughing.

“You really think you can do that? Shouta, put her in her place will you?” Shouta only gives a dark chuckle.

“You heard her. Pick up the dagger and cut out your tongue.” He scoffs, clenching his jaw.

“That’s nonsense. You can’t do that.” Shouta stands, beginning to remove his tie.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want, Masa. Now, you either pick up that dagger and slice your own tongue off or she can do it for you. You’ve disregarded my explicit order to refer to her with her assigned title, and then you insulted her directly. A woman above your rank commands more respect. On top of that, you’ve failed to address me with my title after I’ve told you to do so several times in the past, which is grounds enough for you to lose several teeth.”

Shouta stands behind him now, and you’re making your way over as well.

“Now, what’s it going to be, Masa?” You fully expected him to drop to his knees and apologize, beg for mercy, because it would be a damn pain to clean up the blood after taking out someone’s tongue. He only sat there and scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest in a show of defiance. Looks like he’s losing his tongue.

“Alright, then,” Shouta speaks louder now, addressing the entire room, “Let this be a lesson well learned. Masa here has refused to obey my order, and then continued to insult my wife. For his transgression, he’ll lose his ability to speak for the rest of his life.” Shouta grabs his collar and rips him out of his chair, manhandling him and tying his hands behind his back with his necktie. You make a mental note that he called you his wife just then.

Meanwhile you go over to the chef and ask him and the waiter to lend you their largest apron and a pair of gloves. Once you have them you ask them to have someone bring up a small tarp or something to cover the floor, and not to return to the floor for the rest of the day. It’s only a few minutes later you’ve got an apron over your dress and latex gloves on, a small blue tarp on the floor and a stack of towels on the table.

**The chaos starts here, so if you’re not all that crazy or averse to blood you can just scroll down and skip it**

You grab the dagger and waltz over to where Shouta has Masa on his knees, Shouta’s hand yanking his head back by his hair and the other hand squeezing his cheeks, forcing his jaw open. Shouta raises an eyebrow at you.

“What’s with the doctor’s getup?” You playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Blood is hard to get out of clothing and the smell of death is rancid. I really don’t wanna deal with the cleanup this is gonna involve. I’ll try not to get it on your suit, too.” He shrugs.

“I can pay for another suit. Don’t worry about it.” You pout.

“But I like that suit. It looks nice on you.” He groans, a very faint blush on his cheeks and at the tips of his ears. It’s rare to see, but it makes you giggle every time.

“Just hurry it up. We still have a meeting.” You nod. Poor Masa is now starting to thrash, and the other men are either shaking their heads in disappointment or looking down at him with little more than disgust. He must have been quite a douchebag to earn the ire of this many high-ranking Yakuza.

You peer down at him and brandish your dagger, reaching down to pull his tongue out. He starts trembling, shaking his head and garbling out something that sounds like ‘please’ and ‘no’ and ‘don’t do this’. You almost pity him, and being as merciful as you are you release his tongue.

“Why are you so afraid, Masa dear? I was under the impression you wanted this to happen, considering your attitude earlier.” His words were slurred with Shouta’s grip on his jaw, but they were coherent enough.

“No, no, no I didn’t I swear! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean any disrespect!” You coo down at him, crouching and cupping his face in your free hand.

“Oh sweetie, I think you did mean to be disrespectful. You see, we had warned you, and you didn’t take that warning to heart. Looking down at your hands now, I can see you’re missing the pinky and ring finger from your left hand and the pinky from your right as well. You must be in serious debt to several oyabun right now, so I have no idea why you’d be so careless. You clearly haven’t learned your lesson, so now it’s my job to teach you isn’t it?” He thrashes some more, shaking his head as much as he can in Shouta’s grip.

“No! No please! I promise I’ve learned!” You coo again.

“Aw, sweetheart. You want to keep your tongue? Is that it?” He nods furiously, tears beginning to prick his eyes. You look up to Shouta, who looks incredibly amused at the scene unfolding.

“Oh Shouta, don’t laugh at the poor thing. He wants to keep his tongue, you know. He looks desperate.” Shouta rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah right. Stop toying with him. You’re just being cruel at this point.” His voice is playful, and you can’t help but playfully scoff at him.

“Rude! I’m not that cruel. It’s fun when they get desperate. Besides, I’m not completely heartless. Adrenaline helps with the initial pain, so it’ll hurt a bit less. What better to get the heart pumping than some false hope and then ripping it away?” The brunette, whose face still sits in your palm, nearly growls.

“You’re fucking insane, woman.” You look down at him, slightly shocked that he’d just said that and subsequently dug himself into a deeper hole. Then you giggle, almost maniacally.

“Why thank you, dear Masa. You know what they say, all the best people are crazy~”

With that you reach into his mouth and grab his tongue, quickly slicing it off. There was little resistance thanks to your dagger being as sharp as it is, and there was a moment where everything was still. The sound of his severed tongue hitting the tarp rang loud through the room, then the bloodcurdling scream sent everything back into motion.

Shouta released him and he doubled over, blood spilling from his mouth like a waterfall as he hacked and tried not to choke on it. You grabbed Masa’s bloodied face and tilted his head to look up at you, then grabbed a towel and stuffed it in his mouth before cleaning up his chin.

“It’s over, Masa dear. I’m sorry I had to do that, but you just refused to listen. Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson now. Try not to upset anyone else, okay?” Shouta untied his hands and you stepped away to let him take care of his wound.

You remove the bloodied gloves and apron and wipe the dagger clean with a towel, discarding them onto the tarp before grabbing Masa’s phone and holding it out to him, having him dial his own medical team and explaining the situation to them. They arrived shortly after, taking the bloodied tarp and everything else with them as they tended to Masa’s wound.

**The morbid ends here**

When all is said and done the meeting carries on as normal. Afterward you and Shouta went home, got comfortable on the couch in pajamas and turned on a shitty romcom. It really was pretty shitty. You turn to Shouta, who had started munching on popcorn.

“You think he'll be okay?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Who? Masa? That prick will be perfectly fine. He might have to learn sign language being unable to speak and all, but he dug himself into that mess.” You hum and nod.

“Why are you worried about him?” You hum again and think about the answer to that question.

“Well I’m not really worried, just more curious I guess. I have no clue how a wound like that is supposed to heal so I guess I just wanna make sure I didn’t kill the guy by accident.” Shouta’s chuckle is low, his chest and stomach bouncing as he laughed.

“At least now I know you can take some blood. Remind me to let you do the dirty work from now on.” You groan.

“Oh come on, Shouta. That shit takes forever to prep and clean! I don’t wanna have to do that a lot, it takes so much energy and time.” He scoffed at you.

“It took less than five minutes to have the tarp down and you completely decked out. That’s not ‘forever’. You’re just lazy.” You roll your eyes.

“Yeah? And so what if I’m a little lazy? A girl can’t take a break?” He chuckles.

“Don’t be like that. We both know you enjoyed removing his tongue.” You sigh, then lay down and put your head on his lap.

“Fine, you caught me. I did like it a little.” He chuckles a little, but doesn’t say anything else on the subject.

“What do you say we get to bed, little one?” You peer up at him as he brushes hair from your face. He’s so gentle with you it’s hard to believe he’s the same man from earlier. Though you’re sure he could say the same about you. A completely different side of you emerged today, the side that craves violence and relishes in bloodshed. You always knew it existed, but you wondered if it was just in your mind or if you really did want to be able to do that sort of thing. Turns out it was the latter.

You smile up at Shouta, and he gives a small smile back.

“Sure. Let’s go to bed.”

[plume-pigmented-pili]

Hey hey! here’s a little something I wrote for Eli a few months ago. They convinced me i should post it, so here i am lol

———

Tw: Descriptions of a Cold, sickness (non graphic), feelings unwanted, coughing, headaches, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort. Let me know if I need to add more!

Words: 5.2k

Pairing: Prinxiety (Written as Romantic but could be read as platonic i guess)

“Virgil is miserable. Its the middle of the night, and Virgil is stuck in bed, unable to sleep, with a horrible cold. The actual cold isn’t why he’s miserable, though.

Is it selfish to want to be cared for?”

—

Through Sickness and Health

Virgil could hear the clock on the opposite wall ticking just a tad too fast, and didn’t need to even look over at it to know it was way too late to be awake. Sure, he didn’t have the best sleep schedule, but at least he was usually enjoying himself when he stayed up, and it was rarely this late. It wasn’t even his fault this time.

But here Virgil was, laying in bed curled under all the blankets he owned, wishing he was dead. On paper, that sounds a lot worse than it really was, but who could blame him? The sweet release of death sounded like heaven compared to suffering here any longer. His throat was sandpaper dry, nose clogged with snot, and what felt like a small bomb went off in his skull with every movement.

That, though, wasn’t the main reason he was suffering.

He’d been sick before, he knew it would be over soon, but no physical pain could compare to the hurt he felt, knowing that the others knew of his illness, and didn’t give a single damn.

There was no way they didn’t know what was happening - even if he’d tried to hide it, which he hadn’t, it’s not like acting was ever his specialty - but not a single one of them had batted an eye since he came down with this stress induced cold.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. Patton had asked if he was feeling alright on day two, when Virgil had shuffled downstairs around three in the afternoon to grab a snack, hoodie flipped up as he dug around, his hands clearly shaky from fever yet he’d been too tired to try and hide it. He’d told Patton, in the least shaky voice he could muster, that he just wasn’t feeling very well.

In hindsight, it had probably been incredibly selfish of him to expect Patton to come to his aid and comfort him, maybe offer to tuck him in on the couch and make him something healthy to eat. He’d seen Patton do just that plus more when Logan or Roman were feeling under the weather after all. But despite knowing it was selfish, he couldn’t help the disappointment and sinking feeling he’d felt when Patton had simply responded with a gentle, almost pitying, “I’m sorry kiddo, thank you for telling me.” before walking away rather hurriedly, leaving it there.

The conversation rolled around in his head, as it had been for the past 5 days. Nobody had come to check on him, not even the resident fatherly side to see if he was feeling any better. He’d been downstairs one other time since that little exchange with Patton, but when he’d walked in on Roman and Logan talking casually in the living room, they’d both given him short, obviously forced smiles, and sunk out. That’d been on day three, and Virgil hadn’t gone back down there since. He wasn’t that hungry anyway.

Maybe they didn’t want to get sick? Or maybe they thought he was gross, and didn’t want to be near him. Did they think he would be rude to them?

All this thinking was making Virgil’s head hurt more. And it really didn’t matter the reason. They didn’t care, they clearly wanted to avoid him.

It hurt, worse than his actual sickness, having to stay away from everyone for days on end. It reminded him of the old days before he was accepted, when he wasn’t welcome anywhere else but the confinement of his room. He missed Patton’s warm greeting each time he walked into a room, or the rants Logan would get lost in that were strangely so calming. Most notably, though, he missed Roman.

He missed their stupid banter that always left him feeling more confident, and the never ending singing that Virgil pretended not to adore. Hell, he missed just talking to the creative side. He’d give anything just to have a conversation with him, just to lift his spirits a little. He longed for one of the warm, solid hugs that only Roman could give.

He would probably even give up his Disney posters, his entire MCR song library, or get banned from every Hot Topic in the country, just to be held and cuddled right at this moment. To be held in warm, secure arms, wrapped in the scent of cinnamon and roses, and drift to sleep knowing he wouldn’t be alone in the morning.

That last one had about a zero percent chance of happening, even if he wasn’t sick and contagious, but Virgil’s sleep deprived, fever ridden brain had decided to be sentimental, and Virgil couldn’t even stop it. At least he wasn’t gone enough to consider asking for any of that comfort he craved. it’d be easier for everyone to just wait in his room until he was better. Then maybe things would be normal again.

And that was his plan, until someone knocked on his door.

The anxious side’s gaze shot over to the clock, grimacing when the quick movement made his eyeballs throb. Who the Hell was knocking on his door at nearly 3:45 in the morning?

“Who-“ Virgil cringed at how his gravely voice broke, cleared his throat, then tried again. “Who is it?”

“I knew you were awake!” Romans voice, surprisingly enough, came from the other side of the door. He was clearly trying to stay quiet, but for some reason, he sounded really… relieved, and chipper. A second later, the Prince added a bit more bashfully, “Uh, unless i just woke you up by knocking, and if that’s the case I sincerely apologize, I didn’t mea-“

“No, I w’s already awake…” Virgil interrupted with a slight slur, groggy brain trying to keep up with what was happening. Being the embodiment of Anxiety, though, meant he didn’t get to stop being anxious just because he was sick. Why was he here? Was he angry? Virgil couldn’t recall doing anything that could offend anyone since he’d been self-quarantined, but then again, he couldn’t really remember his last name at the moment either. He mumbled to himself as he untangled his legs from the covers, cursing the universe under his breath because his head felt two times it’s normal size. Then he took a deep breath and sat up. He didn’t want to make Roman uncomfortable or grossed out seeing him all sick in bed, cause holy shit would that be embarrassing. He still didn’t look great, but it was a small step. “Come in Pr’ncey.”

The door swung open, revealing a timid, bed headed Roman, who seemed to relax a little when noticing Virgil sitting up in bed. “Hey there.. sorry to barge in, I hope i’m not bothering you.” he said, voice still lowered and really quite gentle as he shut the door behind him.

Virgil went to shake his head, but stopped himself before he could cause himself fucking brain damage and just shrugged instead. “ y’re not both’ring me. ‘sup?” yikes, all this sitting up and trying to look presentable business was making him realize how exhausted he was. His eyelids felt heavy already.

Roman took a few steps forward, keeping his eyes steadily on Virgil like he was waiting for him to keel over and die, or cough on him. It seemed pretty damn dramatic, even for Roman. “I… just wanted to check on you. I’ve uh, been a little worried about you, and i couldn’t sleep.” The Prince said, hesitant as he lowered himself on the foot of the bed.

Virgil blinked a few times, curling his legs up so his knees were to his chest to make sure Roman wouldn’t touch his feet under the 5 layers of blankets he had over him. Or maybe it was the sudden, treacherous hope that was rising in him, a hope he was trying to stifle. Roman was… worried about him? Roman of all sides? I mean, he wasn’t surprised that he cared, he and Roman were friends now after all. Virgil was just surprised he cared about this. He thought they were all in agreement to avoid him or something.

Virgil was about to open his mouth and say… something - he didn’t really know what he was going to say. It felt like his train of thought was chugging along through molasses - but he was interrupted before he could get any words out.

“Dude… no offense, but you look like actual death. And why in the name of Hades are you buried under so many blankets?” The Prince asked with what sounded like genuine confusion, at least for the second part.

Virgil huffed and pulled the blankets tighter around him, the movement causing him to shiver. He couldn’t decide what to focus on; The cold air on his back, the rising sensation of relief knowing Roman cared, or how weird that question had been. Quite honestly, Virgil wasn’t offended because he knew he looked like shit. he was just a little confused. He thought Roman would have known he’d look like shit. “What do you mean why do I have so many blankets. I literally feel like ’m freezing to death. ’s part of the package, shouldn’t you know this?” He practically deadpanned, not even for the snarkiness like usual. His speech was just dull.

But that only left Roman looking more confused, and probably a good deal more concerned if his expression was anything to go by. “I-... I didn’t know that, no.. I’m sorry. Do you want another blanket or something…?” he asked carefully, still awfully and almost painfully cautious.

And Virgil… was at a loss for how this could possibly be new information to Roman. it was pretty common knowledge even if you’ve never had a fever before. But instead of dwelling, Virgil once again stopped himself from shaking his head, sighing instead. “No, it won’ help.” he said shortly. The effort would be futile, but it was endearing that Roman at least asked. “Thanks though. That’s.. really nice of you t’ offer.” The anxious side offered a bit more quietly.

There was an awkward silence that followed, Roman shuffling his feet against the carpet slightly as he looked around the room. Virgil saw the other’s eyes catch on the pile of used tissues in the floor, another bout of confusion flashing in his bright green eyes, but he didn’t mention it this time. Maybe it was a lack of sleep making the Prince act so clueless at the moment. “I… I guess i’ve just.. i don’t know, everything is more boring without you around. Nobody to insult without actually offending them.” Roman spoke again after a moment, sending a half smile in Virgil’s direction.

A little smirk matched with a snort is what the Prince was rewarded with, Virgil's spirits lifted regardless of his misery. It felt nice knowing he was missed, and it made his chest warm knowing it was coming from Roman. For some reason, knowing he could make things more bearable for his counterpart was.. rewarding, in a way. And Roman looked proud of himself, before he continued a bit more solemnly. “You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, like what, 5 says now?”

That got Virgil to sigh, and maybe there was some defensiveness laying beneath the surface, made worse thanks to being miserable, but all he managed was a mildly annoyed side eye to Roman as he responded in a mumble, still doing his best not to run Roman off. “‘t’s not my fault.”

Roman was quick to shake his head, slight guilt in his expression. “I know! I-I’m not trying to make you feel bad, i guess i just- i don’t know, i’m just talking out loud… sorry.” Roman’s voice had quieted, eyes trained on the floor somewhat shamefully as he seemed to search for his words. “I just.. I just wish…” but once again, he trailed off, shaking his head and seeming to give up. “I’m sorry.”

“‘s fine, Princey.” Virgil mumbled back, eyes dropping to his lap where he picked at a loose string on his bedspread. Another silence followed, Virgil trying to sniffle as silently as he could. Despite how weird this interaction had been so far, and how slightly awkward it’s gotten, Virgil was honestly just trying to soak in the mere presence of another side while it lasted. He’d never liked being alone for so long. His stomach was starting to hurt for a reason aside from sickness. This sure was a good way to get Roman to leave early, the others were probably right for leaving him alone so far.

Suddenly, Virgil squeezed the blankets in his fist to try and stop a sudden tickle in his throat, the sensation coming out of nowhere. Unfortunately though, his instincts won out just seconds later as he was forced to cough, the sound gargled and gross even when he covered the whole bottom half of his face with his covers. Dammit, dammit, stupid fucking cough. And Roman just got there too. He wasn’t ready for the creative side to leave again yet.

“S- Sorry, sorry ‘bout that. Shit.” He mumbled rather quickly, hoping to by just a few minutes longer of the creative side’s company before it was taken away again for who knows how long. His head felt like it was being split open, no thanks to the effort it took to cough. Who the Hell’s idea was sickness? They should be fired.

Much to his surprise though, when Virgil hesitantly looked up to gauge how put off Roman was by his display, he only saw an overwhelming about of worry, but even more importantly, alarm.

“Apologies, but is this like- normal??” Roman asked with eyes noticeably wider, studying Virgil's pained expression, hunched over posture, the mess of dirty tissues around, and the way the bright numbers of his digital clock on his nightstand was covered carefully, with a washcloth no doubt.

Virgil drew in a deep, slow breath through his nose as he rubbed on his temples to try and alleviate some pain, eyes closed and head tilted down. Roman’s ridiculous questions were just making his headache worse, and honestly he didn’t even understand how the Hell he was so confused. Was this his plan? To come in here and confuse Virgil and his already incapacitated brain? ‘Cause if so, he was doing a brilliant job. “Roman, what the hell are you talking about.”

It came out less like a question, more like a very tired statement, but he was answered with confused stammering, Roman gesturing almost desperately to Virgil and his state. “What do you mean what am I talking about?? Dude, you’re clearly not doing well. I mean, I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but you’re sweating like a sinner in church, you’re covered in a thousand blankets, you were just hacking up a lung and you’re barely able to speak right from, what i’m assuming, is a nose full of mucus!”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. I look like shit, Pr’ncey, enough said.” Virgil snapped, glaring up at Roman and accidentally moving his head up to look at him too fast, sending a flare of agony through his skull. He cursed under his breath and winced, but powered through it even as Roman lifted a hand to- to what, help? It didn’t matter, Virgil moved away from the effort. “No, don’t touch me, alright? I don’t wan’ your pity.”

Virgil knew all of this was coming out more aggressive than he ever would allow if he was feeling himself. Hell, even now he was begging himself to just shut up and stay calm. But after almost 2 full days with no sleep, and 5 days of nonstop pain, coughing, being unable to breath properly, the feeling of fire in his throat every time he tried to eat, and then on top of that, being shunned by the 3 people he wanted- needed, more than anything. Well, he really couldn’t stop his composure from cracking and shattering.

Roman looked ready to respond, seemingly struck with more pity than before, but Virgil’s hand shot up to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it, Princey. Why the Hell are you even here anyway? If you’ve missed me so much, why did you wait 5 f’cking days to come see me? T’ come ‘check on me’? And, by th’ way, so far you’ve really only been fucking with me and making me feel worse, so in reality it probably would ‘ve been better had you just kept up your streak of avoiding me like ev’ryone else!”

Virgil was breathing heavily, head pounding and lungs burning after raising his voice just a bit too much at the end of his rant. He replayed the words back in his mind, heart sinking when he realized how aggressive he’d gotten. He couldn’t slow down his breathing, why couldn’t he slow his breathing?? Jesus christ, he wasn’t about to break down on top of all that other shit he just unleashed. Perfect, he was just proving the other side’s point for them.

With his body now starting to shake, jaw clenched to hold back tears because this week has been bullshit, and he felt like curling up and disappearing, if not to escape his aching body then to at least escape the anger he knew would result from that whole verbal meltdown he just had. Obviously Roman would be leaving, but would he yell first? Tell him how annoying and selfish he was, and how he didn’t get to be a huge asshole just because he was feeling a little under the weather? Or would he leave in silence, just exit the room with that silent, cold anger that Roman only showed when he was really upset.

Maybe he’d tell everyone else what happened, how he’d tried to extend an olive branch, test it out just to see if maybe his illness hadn’t made him into a pathetic prick, but Virgil lashed out as expected and ran him off. Would Logan and Patton get mad at him too? Come in and tell him off for being so horrible to his own family, that he couldn’t even be a decent person for 5 minutes.

Maybe things wouldn’t go back to normal even after he’s recovered, all because he couldn’t just control himself.

“Virgil, what are you talking about?” Roman asked exasperated, and Virgil dragged his hands down his face. He meant to make more of a growl in frustration, but it came out closer to a pained whine. His eyes stung for a new reason now. He just wanted this to stop. Why wouldn’t Roman just stop?

“What. What am I talking about what. I can’t do this- this whole vague shit righ’now, jus’ spit it out.” He hated how short tempered he was sounding, but Roman didn’t seem to be fazed. Virgil could see the Prince waving his hands around in his peripheral, looking tongue tied.

“The- The part where you think i’m fucking with you?? Why you think we’re avoiding you?? Why you’re so-... so….” Roman trailed off, a look of realization crossing his face, which quickly turned to horror and guilt. “Wait a… w-wait a second, Virgil, are you- are you sick??”

To say Roman sounded appalled would be an understatement, his eyes wide in shock, brows drawn, mouth slightly agape. Virgil’s head spun, suddenly dizzy as his brain tried to figure out why Roman sounded so horrified- why he sounded so surprised. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t understand what was going on. He felt nauseous and he just wanted to sleep. Before he knew it, tears were trekking down his face, thick tears springing from his eyes making the pressure behind them even more unbearable. A sob tore painfully from his throat, instantly catching the Prince’s full attention.

“Oh my… Virgil-“

Virgil shrunk away from the Prince’s voice, curling up once more into a ball, trying to hide from everything. His lip wobbled, he could feel it, but he was too tired to be embarrassed or feel pathetic. He pulled the covers closer around him. “R-Roman, please jus’-“ He hiccuped on a sob, hissed through his teeth as the action sent a sharp pain through his lungs. “I don’ know i-if you’re tryin’ to joke ‘r somethin’, but— but ’s n- not funny, o-okay?”

Instead of speaking clearly at a normal volume, Virgil was nearly mumbling the entire time he was speaking, slurring through words even worse than when the conversation started. Was it just him, or was the room spinning? “Please, i… i need you t’...” Virgil huffed for breath, exhaustion wearing on him like a switch was just suddenly flipped. It nearly took all his energy to try and get a deep breath.

“Ro…”

Virgil was met with a warm, broad chest, and strong arms wrapping around him before he even knew he was slumping forward. His ears were ringing, drowning out what sounded like a familiar voice speaking to him. They sounded distressed, he hoped they were okay. What was combing through his hair? He couldn’t quite remember what was going on before then, but all he knew was, he was safe now.

Then, the world went dark.

———

Virgil came into consciousness a little while later, his brain the kind of blissfully empty that only comes after passing out, apparently. He couldn’t grasp where he was before, existing in a reality where there is no past for a few moments. His head was vaguely aching, like a dull throb faded into the background, and his lungs stung only a little when he breathed in deeply. In his sleepy state though, Virgil didn’t concern himself with those feelings.

Virgil couldn’t see anything, he noticed not long after, but he could hear murmuring and the distant sound of water running.

Next, he realized he knew he wasn’t in his own room anymore, both because this wasn’t his mattress, and the room didn’t smell like his own.

He could smell.. cinnamon… and peaches… and ink. Somewhere in his groggy brain, Virgil recognized the smell, but at the moment it was just out of his reach. It didn’t bother him, though, not when he was so relaxed and calm. He felt like he was one with the bed, and the soft, fluffy sheets encasing him.

A few more seconds of coming to, and Virgil realized his eyes were covered with something damp, and cool… soft too. It felt amazing against his warm skin. oh right, i’m sick, a thought entered his mind gently.

Then, a lot less gently, the events from before he passed out rushed to the forefront of his mind, practically smacking him in the face. Because yes, he’d passed out, right in front of Roman like an idiot, oh shit, why isn’t he in his room, where is he-

“Virgil? Hey woah, calm down buddy- here,” Virgil heard someone quickly cross the room, and tended his body for all of two seconds before the washcloth over his eyes was being lifted.

Virgil blinked blearily, squinting his eyes even though the room was almost completely shrouded in darkness, save for a thin line of light coming from the cracked bathroom door. Someone was sat beside him on the side of the bed, but he was too blurry for Virgil to make out details.

“There you are. Hey Hot Topic, how are you feeling?” the person asked, speaking more gently than anyone had spoken to Virgil in a long time. Strangely though, Virgil wasn’t upset by it. It was.. nice…

Wait a minute, he knew that voice.

“R- Roman..? I.. Where…?” Distantly, Virgil knew he sounded like shit, which meant he probably looked like shit, and directly after asking that half assed question, he realized he had to be in the Princes room. “Oh.. fuckin’- I passed out on you..” he groaned, moving his hands up to scrub the blurriness from his eyes.

It worked, surprisingly, and now that Virgil could see, he realized that yes, Roman was the one sitting next to him, and yes he was in Roman’s room, in Roman’s bed. He also noticed how tossed Roman’s hair was, and the bright red with little snowmen pajamas the Prince wore. They were really adorable.

“Yes, I’m afraid you did.. and I’m also afraid that I am partly to blame for it.” Roman sighed, casting his eyes down as he pressed his lips in a line.

Virgil’s brows drew together, and, because he was so delirious, he reached out to grab gently at Romans sleeve. “How is it your fault that I passed out?” he asked incredulously. At least he could speak properly now. Now? Now since when? Oh geez, “Wait how long have I been out? A few hours? Days? Years?! Did I fall into a coma?!”

The corner of Roman’s lip lifted in amusement, and he gently lay a hand over Virgil’s, on his sleeve. “No, no nothing like that, Dark Knight. It’s only been an hour or so. I.. hope you don’t mind, but I had to bring you in here. Your fever was… really high.” The Prince of Creativity said, solemn by the end.

“I think i’ve managed to get it down, so it’s not so dangerous anymore, but Logan will definitely have to keep an eye on it today.”

That got Virgil's attention. “Wait- Logan? Uh.. yeah, not to burst your bubble Princey, but I doubt that’ll be happening.” There was a slight bitterness to his tone as he wrapped his free arm around his midsection, and though there wasn’t as much bitterness as there usually would be, Roman still picked up on it loud and clear.

He inclined his head, as if in agreement, and Virgil stomach only sunk a little bit before Roman was speaking again.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Virgil. You see, there seems to have been a grave misunderstanding. This is how I’m partially responsible for your passing out, same as Logan and Patton are also partly to blame.”

Virgil’s eyes widened, breath hitching at the sheer ridiculousness of that suggestion. No!! How could it be their fault? He’s the one that got so sick and couldn’t keep himself healthy enough not to fucking pass out. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Roman held up a finger before he could get out a single word, silencing him.

“A few days ago, 5 to be exact, it came to Patton’s attention that you weren’t feeling yourself. He told me and Logan that you told him you weren’t feeling very well, and that we should all give you some space the next few days.” Roman said carefully. Ah yes, that conversation. The one that’s haunted Virgil for nearly a week. Virgil remembered it well.

With a hesitant, still very lost nod from Virgil, Roman continued. “It seems that Patton, and in turn, Logan and I, assumed that your strange behavior was linked to.. well, anxiety.” He gave Virgil’s hand a light squeeze, any sign of a smile gone and replaced with pained regret. The Prince swallowed, just as Virgil pieced it together.

“Because of these more stressful times Thomas is experiencing, we wrongly thought that you were having a rough week, leading to worse anxiety. So… we’ve been leaving you on your own, thinking we were helping you..”

Virgil.. didn’t know what to say. He looked up and found Roman’s red, sorrowful eyes. When he focused, he could see they were just a little bit bloodshot, even in the dark. Proof that he had previously cried, no doubt about this. When Virgil didn’t speak, still too shocked as his slowed brain processes this, Roman continued, quietly choking back a sob just after he averted his gaze to the floor.

“V-Virgil-“ he voice cracked. Virgil’s heart was sinking in his chest. Roman had never looked so heartbroken. “Virgil I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were sick, none of us did! I-I swear I didn’t know, I would have never left you alone if I had, Virgil, Star, i’m so so s-sorry,”

Roman was practically full on crying by that point, though he clearly tried to keep it to himself and stay quiet. Virgil was grateful for the effort, but there were much more important things to focus on at the moment. He may not be completely himself, but he still couldn’t let Roman be so sad.

It was because he wasn’t completely himself that Virgil automatically sat up (taking his time to do so, trying not to upset his head), and leaned himself right against Roman, chest to chest, looping his arms around to loosely hold Princey in a hug.

It all made sense now, why he’d been ignored all week, and why nobody came to check on him or try to help. He felt a little (read: a lot) stupid for thinking that anyone in his famILY would do anything but show him the upmost care and attention when he needed it. They thought they were helping, and honestly, had he in fact been having a bad week of heightened anxiety, giving him space would have been the right thing for them to do.

Roman was quick to return Virgil’s hug, though to his credit, his hug was a lot stronger and more secure than Virgil’s. He buried his face in Virgil’s hair, a steady stream of teary apologies spilling from him. A steady stream that Virgil hastily tried to end.

“Roman, it’s okay… i’m not upset, I promise it’s okay. I know you were doing what you thought would help me. Please don’t cry, Princey.” He said softly.

It might have been a few more minutes, or a few hours, that the two sides sat together in each other’s arms. Roman’s cries and apologies slowly quieted to a stop, though the gentle combing of fingers through Virgil’s hair only continued as they sat.

“Hey… Roman?” Virgil whispered after a few more moments, the whole mindscape quiet, save for the quiet sniffles from both Virgil and Roman every once in a while.

“Yes, sweet Midnight?” came an equally gentle response. Neither side moved, Virgil too content with his face snuggly buried against his counterpart’s shoulder, and Roman too content with having Anxiety safe in his arms.

“Would… well, you can say no, but would you mind.. if I stay in here..? I don’t… really want to be alone…” a hint of Virgil’s usual anxious tendencies showed itself despite the tiredness that was starting to cover the darker side. Instead of head-swimming exhaustion though, this time Virgil felt pleasantly heavy and relaxed.

Without uttering another word, Roman pulled them both down to lay their heads on the pillows, lifting one hand to gently flick his wrist and manipulate the covers around them. The light in the bathroom turned off with a soft click of Roman’s fingers, one that Virgil hardly registered as he shuffled somehow closer to the Prince, still tucked safely in his arms.

As he fell softly and smoothly into the first restful sleep he’s had in days, Virgil noticed that he wasn’t freezing cold anymore. The dull throb in his head had gone away almost entirely, and it felt that much easier to breathe. But most importantly, Virgil felt less alone than he had in a long, long time.

Needless to say, Virgil was feeling better already.

[highflyerwings]

"I’m so so sorry to anyone who went into Beyond Evil expecting it to be The Devil Judge. You were wildly mislead, and that severely affected how you saw the show." This. I never understood why the hell they would compare the 2 dramas. BE is such a good drama, beautifully written and executed but of course it's going to fall short if people expect a TDJ copy ¬¬ (it pisses me off because BE is still underpreciated and things like that don't help)

Beyond Evil is the show that reignited my love of kdramas. I was experiencing major kdrama burnout before I found it. They all tend to be a little too formulaic, and generally (het) romance focused. And while that may be an oversimplification of the genre, it’s not entirely inaccurate. But Beyond Evil was completely new.

I will not lie, the relationship between the two male leads is what caught my eye. I saw people shipping them and thought they sounded interesting. But pretty much immediately with the first episode you realize it’s so much more than “the ship.”

It’s a beautiful narrative about trauma, and pain, and victims, and family (both blood and found). It’s written and directed by women. And the beautiful thing is, there’s no romance at all. One can argue the technicalities of Dongsik and Juwon’s feelings for each other all day, are they in love or not — and it’s not forced or unrealistic at all to say they’re in love with each other (even the writer and cast clearly lean heavily towards romantic love, rather than platonic) — but bottom line, you are not going to be forced to watch a het love story at any point in the show.

I understand people’s comparison to TDJ lies heavily with the two male leads of each show. “If you like [this pairing], you should watch [this show].” And that’s not wrong necessarily. I see the very basic similarities (older man and his younger counterpart have a tense and volatile relationship that ultimately ends in trust and love), but Dongsik and Juwon are not going to give you the same thing that Yohan and Gaon do. I love all four characters. I even have a running headcanon that Dongsik and Yohan were friends (or lovers) at one point. I love the dynamics of each pairing and how they compare and contrast one another, but if you go into either show looking for the similarities, or expecting one to give you the same energy as the other, you will be sorely disappointed.

In any case, I appreciate the attempt to get people interested in Beyond Evil, but making such heavy comparisons to The Devil Judge was the wrong way to do it.