#and you don't really have to do anything other than that. the twist and spin IS the characters

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Twisted

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

genre: fluff, smut, thriller

wc: 6.6k

synopsis: felix and you live a normal, happy life as a couple. until you start noticing little things that make no sense. felix calls you silly for thinking anything could ever be wrong in your perfect little world. is he being honest or harboring a bigger secret?

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, oral(f), two plot twists!!, dark ending!

a/n: i can't really put all of the warnings here bcs i would spoil the plot twist but i hope you enjoy this one hehehe🤭🫶🏻

divider by: @cafekitsune

~masterlist

There is nothing more beautiful than waking up next to the person you love.

Traces of last night's loving and passionate activities linger in the air all around you as your limbs are entwined with his, not knowing where you begin and where he ends; almost like you've merged into one person.

You stir a little, the warmness of his naked body pressed against yours makes your heart dance inside your chest and your core throb with the everlasting craving you have for Felix.

Your eyes flutter open and you look at him, his hair a royal mess, the strands falling over his forehead and into his eyes, where his eyelashes kiss his freckled skin, his plump lips slightly parted as he cutely drools on the pillow.

You chuckle a little and that stirs him up, he smacks his lips together as you lay on your tummy, facing him, his leg thrown over you.

Felix cracks one eye open and smiles instantly, his fingertips dancing on your back, all along your spine.

"Morning, sweets." his voice is even deeper when he wakes up, but still dripping with honey.

"Morning, love." you whisper and his smile widens, making him look even cuter to you so you lean in and press your lips to his forehead.

Your hand caresses his hair out of the way as your lips repeatedly collide with his skin, kissing his eyebrows, eyelids, nose, all of his starry freckles.

Felix giggles at the onslaught of love, giddy as his arm curls around your waist, bringing you even closer to him.

You enjoy the quiet moment before you have to get up and start your day, face the real world.

As your hands gently caress each other's skin, both of you become hungry for more, hungry to become one like you did last night, more than once.

Felix's breaths are shaky as he ruts his middle against your thigh, his hot leaky cock dragging against your plushy flesh.

You moan quietly as your hand explores his soft skin and Felix maneuvers you so your back is facing him.

"Wanna hold you." he murmurs into your hair, adjusting your leg before he sinks his cock into you easily, your cunt always ready to take him in.

Felix buries himself inside your warmth, holding you tightly as his lips attach to your neck and whisper words of love in your ear.

You melt into his embrace, letting him rock against you, his cock sliding in and out of your wetness in a steady rhythm, his arm wrapped around you as his fingers press on your clit.

Euphoria soon takes you both over as you spill into each other, all wet and warm, full of love.

"I love you, sweetheart." he kisses your shoulder and arm gently.

"I love you too." you turn to smile at him.

Yes, nothing is more beautiful than this moment right here.

-

"Lixie! Are you done getting ready?" you yell out from the hallway.

"Yes! I'm coming, babe." he yells back from your room before he comes skipping down the steps with a big smile on his face.

You chuckle at him as he jumps right in front of you, cupping your cheeks and pressing his lips into yours, a wet smooch sound echoing off the walls.

"You're so cute." your face is warm as you giggle at him.

"That's you." he pinches your cheek, making you whine a little.

"So, do you like my outfit?" he asks with a little spin, a bright smile on his face.

"Of course, you look very handsome." you giggle.

"Don't I always?" he wiggles his eyebrows and you roll your eyes at him playfully.

"Why is this new diner so special that you're sooo excited about it?" you ask as the two of you make your way out of your house.

Felix swings your linked hands and smiles.

"You'll see. I know you'll love it." his eyes shine as he beams at you.

"Fine, I trust you." you say and he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently.

It's another beautiful sunny day, the birds are chirping in the trees, there is no trace of clouds in the sky, everyone around you seems to be happy, wearing big smiles and saying a polite 'good morning' as you pass them by.

You smile too, enjoying the sun's warmth as Felix yaps about a new video game he discovered recently.

Come to think of it, you don't remember the last time it rained or snowed.

While you ponder this, Felix notices your absent-mindedness and nudges you.

"You're not listening to me." he pouts.

"Sorry, I was just thinking how it's been sunny for so long that I almost forgot what it's like when it rains." you chuckle and Felix's eyes widen for a moment.

"Oh- I mean, isn't that good?" he asks, licking at his lip nervously.

"Sure, but it'd be nice to get some rain now and then." you shrug, looking around.

"I'm sure it'll rain soon." Felix is more quiet than usually when he says that but you pay no mind as the mysterious diner he'd been raving all week about finally comes into view.

"Felix!" you exclaim, grabbing at his arm, a big smile spreading on your face upon seeing what all the rave was about.

Your boyfriend's demeanor changes instantly as he perks up, a big smile on his face.

"It's a space themed diner!" you clap excitedly as you near the entrance.

"Mhm. Just what you love." Felix's eyes sparkle as he looks at your face adoringly. "Are you happy?" he adds.

"Happy? I'm estatic!" you practically skip the rest of the distance as Felix trails behind you with a satisfied smile on his face.

Seeing you like this is the biggest gift he could ever have the honor to indulge in, it's all he needs.

To see you happy.

You hurry inside and the interior of the diner makes you gasp.

The walls are filled with beautiful space paintings and photographs, the ceiling is made of some kind of big screen that has an entire galaxy lighting up here and there, as if all the little stars are actually shining above your heads, spacecraft oval shaped chandeliers hang from the stars, the little lights inside them shining with different colors of the rainbow.

The whole diner seems to be presented as the Solar System, each booth belonging to one planet and designed according to colors and traits of the planet.

Everything seems shiny and sparkly, some experimental electronic music is playing from the speakers as the waiters rush around, all dressed in shiny suits, with cute space details sewn into them.

The place is packed but as if it was waiting for you, the booth inspired by Jupiter, your favorite planet, is empty.

"Shall we?" Felix smiles, reaching his hand out to you.

You nod fervently, still trying to process the entire design of the diner, your heart dancing inside your chest happily.

Felix chuckles and leads you to the booth and as soon as you sit down, an automated voice starts talking from the little speaker on the wall.

"Welcome to Jupiter, the gas giant of our Solar System! It is primarily made out of gases and liquids so your feet won't really touch any ground but that's okay, you can always float along! Just be careful not to get swept away by the famous cyclonic storm called the Great Red Spot, hehe! Fun fact: Jupiter has 80 moons!" the voice talks.

"Startled me at first." you chuckle. "Actually, Jupiter has 95 moons discovered, as of lately. I guess they didn't update the fun fact." you add and Felix frowns.

"Hm." he purses his lips and you giggle. "How could they not update it?"

"It's okay, it's not that big of a deal." you giggle at his pouty face.

Before he can answer, a waiter appears next to your table.

"Hello, my fellow space explorers! I'm glad to see you've chosen Jupiter as your destination today. Take a look at the selection on our menu, it's just out of this world!" the waiter laughs, putting down your menus and twirling around as he walks away giving you some time to decide.

"This place is so kooky." you laugh in delight and your boyfriend smiles at you.

"You like it, right?" he asks.

"I love it, Lixie." you confirm and Felix's face becomes brighter again.

"I wanna try the Milky Way shake." Felix says as he skims through the menu.

"Yeah, we can get a big one, share it?" you blink at him and he melts.

"Of course. What do you wanna eat?" he asks.

"Um- the trip to the moon pancakes sound yummy."

"Ooh, I will get the andromeda cake then and we can share and taste both."

After placing your order, you look around, marvelling at the way they thought about every little detail as whoever made this put a lot of thought into this diner and is obviously a space lover like you.

Your eyes fall to another booth, the Mars one, hues of orange and red swirling on the wall and the seats as your eyes follow the intricate design all the way to the woman sitting in the booth with another woman, perhaps a friend, perhaps her lover.

Something seemed off, though.

The woman was taking sips from her glass, but it seemed like no matter how many times she sipped, the liquid inside didn't move.

Again, she took a big sip and you could see her throat move as she swallowed but the same amount of red liquid with little golden sparkles inside it remained.

You don't know why you were fixating on such a little detail, but it was so peculiar.

"What is it? You like the Mars booth more?" Felix follows your eyes.

"N-no. Just... nevermind." you smile at him. "I'm just looking at the different designs. They're all so pretty." you settle on saying.

"I'm glad- I mean yeah they are." he smiles at you.

Your Milky Way shake arrives along with your food, and everything looks sparkly and delicious, decorated with little edible stars and edible glitter.

Felix and you talk about nonsense, relaxed and full of laughter as you share the shake, sipping from it at the same time.

The way he stares at you, his eyes dark and intense yet so soft and full of love, makes your stomach do backflips every time he's this close to you.

After the delicious brunch, the two of you decide to take a walk to a nearby park, wanting to catch some fresh air and stretch your legs.

Felix's arm is wrapped around your shoulders as you melt into him, your arm wrapped around his waist.

"Ugh Felix, what day is it today?" you suddenly feel confused.

"It's Thursday. Why?" he chuckles.

"Weren't you supposed to be at work?" your brain struggles to remember if he said he had a day off or not.

"Y/n, don't be silly. I have the whole week free, remember? We said we'd spend as much time as we can together."

"Right." you chuckle, your memory refreshed. "Silly me. Must be the Milky Way shake with the way I'm spacing out."

Felix laughs at your pun as you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

The world is so beautiful with the sound of his laughter gracing it and with his attention focused only on you.

With warmness in your heart, you return to your home.

-

You work from home, so as soon as you arrive back at your house, you sit down at your desk.

You feel bad for not helping Felix with dinner but he reassures you that he doesn't mind cooking a meal for the two of you, in fact, it makes him happy.

Retreating into your home office, you began working.

Exhaustion takes you over after a few hours, not even realizing what time it is until there's a knock on your door.

"Y/n, love? Dinner is ready." it's Felix's warm deep voice and you turn to look at him, a smile on your face instantly.

"Okay, I'll be down in a few minutes-"

"Babe, you've done enough. Come on, you need to eat something." Felix makes his way to you, his hand gentle on your upper back as he caresses you.

You melt into his touch instantly, thoughts of continuing to work disperse immediately.

"Okay." you chuckle as he leans down to kiss your forehead gently.

The food is delicious like always and as you keep eating, the sky outside darkens suddenly.

You squint your eyes, lifting your head up to look out the window.

"Oh!" you exclaim as thunder rolls in.

Felix turns his head towards the sound, seemingly unphased but there is a small smirk dancing on his lips that you miss.

"Looks like it's gonna rain after all." he says.

"Yeah." you quip, a weird feeling settling in your stomach.

You decide to ignore it, it's a coincidence that it started raining just when you thought about it, it's not like you predicted the weather or something.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" Felix smiles and you nod.

"Of course, it was delicious. I'm not letting you wash the dishes alone though." you point at him jokingly.

"It's fine, sweetheart." Felix is quick to shake his head as he starts cleaning out the table.

"No, you cooked. Let me be useful for something at least."

"You are useful."

"You know what I meant." you say and he nods, the two of you settling on washing the dishes together.

As you're putting the last plate in its place, Felix appears behind you, pressing his body into yours as his arms wrap around you.

He whines, nuzzling his face in your neck as goosebumps rise on your skin and you melt into him.

"Hello there." you giggle.

"Mm." his lips attach to your neck, leaving gentle kisses and you lean your head back on his shoulder, giving him more space.

"Let's shower together." you suggest and Felix hums against you with a smirk.

It's a daily routine you have, any moment you don't have to spend apart, you spend together including showering.

If someone gave Felix the chance, he would quit his job and just be your boyfriend.

He often thought about that, spending every second of the day with you, even while you work, he'd be content in sitting quietly next to you.

He'd have you all to himself, forever.

But, real life gets in the way but he concludes that that's what makes every moment you are with him even more precious.

"Let me help you, sweetheart." his voice drips with honey again as he turns your back to him while the two of you stand under the shower.

Shivers run up your spine as his fingertips slide on your back.

He grabs your shampoo, pouring it on his hands before he starts washing your hair.

You relax into his touch, loving the way he always takes care of you. His hands are gentle but firm as he massages the bubbles into your scalp before rinsing it off.

As you lean back into him, his semi-hard cock brushes against your backside and you chuckle.

"Someone's getting excited." you look back at him with a playful smirk.

"Can you blame me? My beautiful girlfriend is naked right in front of me." he smiles somewhat of an innocent smile, a contrast to the steamy atmosphere shaping between you.

His arms wrap around you as he pulls your body flush against his, making you shiver.

"I need you, my sweet." he whispers, bumping his nose with yours, lips brushing against you.

"Lixie." his hands roam on your body, as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "Let's go to bed, hm? I love the thought of shower sex but last time you slipped and almost cracked your head open on the tiles and I really don't want to go through that again."

Felix whines in embarassment, burying his face in your neck as he tightens his hold on you.

"That was one time. All the other times were fine." he pouts against your skin.

"I don't wanna see you hurting, come on." you say and he reluctantly follows you out of the shower.

After drying off, Felix whisks you away to your bedroom, almost throwing you down on the soft bed as you squeal, the room filled with laughter.

"My sweetheart." he coos at you, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb swipes on your skin.

Before you can say anything, his plump lips are on yours as he kisses you lovingly, passionately, possessively, his tongue pushing inside and swirling around yours, taking your breath away.

You clutch onto him as he lowers his middle into yours, grinding his hardening cock against your wet pussy.

He keeps kissing you and swallowing your moans, as his tip catches your entrance a few times but he keeps grinding against you.

"L-Lix, need you." you whimper in frustration, wanting him to fill you up.

"Yeah? My baby needs me?" he smirks and you whimper again.

"Yes, please. Need you inside me." you bat your eyelashes at him, trying to look as cute as possible even though Felix would kiss the ground you walked on if you told him to.

"Such a good girl. Asking so nicely." he keeps smirking before grabbing his cock and slowly sinking into your heat.

Both of you moan at the feeling as he slowly pushes in, bottoming out and fitting snuggly inside you.

Felix tries, he really does, he tries to be gentle but you feel so damn good clenching around him, keeping his cock inside you, your legs and arms wrapped around him as he fucks into your sweet spot.

"Ah!" you exclaim as Felix picks up his speed, his hips snapping into you as he presses your knees to your shoulders, coming down on you with all his weight.

Your eyes roll in the back of your head as he fucks you relentlessy, making you cum in mere minutes.

"Shit, baby you're so wet." Felix looks down at his cock, the white cream of your pleasure painted on his length.

He grunts deeply before fucking into you again, the squelching sounds making your face and ears burn.

Your boyfriend is like a bunny in heat, never stopping or slowing down, making his cock slip out of you on accident as he keeps wilding above you.

A little whimper escapes his lips, missing your heat immediately as he grabs his length and pushes back into you, resuming his ruthless pace.

"Mm, yeah, take it." he groans and all you can do is moan as you let him have his way with you.

"F-Felix!" you moan as he brings you to your second orgasm.

"Yeah, say my name baby." he smirks as he pounds into you.

You keep moaning his name as you climax, getting his cock even more wet which in return makes him even crazier for you.

You're sure the bed will break with the force he's fucking you with, his cock slipping out of you a few more times, making him whimper every time it happens.

He grips your hips, thrusting into you erratically as his cock twitches inside you.

"Gonna give you my cum." his voice is whiny and high-pitched, breathless from the exertion.

"Yes, fill me up, Lixie!" you whimper and he cums, buried deep inside you as your pussy milks his cock down to the last drop.

Felix collapses on top of you and you hold each other, as you listen to the sound of the rain hitting the glass.

"Isn't it weird that it started raining as soon as I mentioned it?" you swallow, staring out the window, your hands drawing random patterns on Felix's back.

You feel him tense in your hold before he lets out a chuckle.

"No, maybe you heard it on the news and subconsciously thought about it or something. Or maybe..." he turns to look at you, his cheek leaned on your breast. "Maybe you have superpowers and you can predict the future." Felix wiggles his eyebrows playfully and you let out a snort.

"Oh sure, that sounds highly likely." you shake your head as he lifts up and kisses you.

"I love you." he smiles after attacking you with sweet kisses.

"I love you, Lixie." you cradle his face.

"Guess we gotta shower again?"

The next morning, you were woken up by Felix's lips on your inner thighs as he made his way to your core.

"Lix..." you mutter half asleep and he only hums in response, lips ghosting over your panties before pressing a kiss to your cunt.

"L-Lixie!" you whine when his tongue darts out to lick at the damp spot on the fabric.

"Relax, baby, let me take care of you." your eyes flutter closed again as he slips off your underwear, his lips wrapping around your clit immediately.

As always, Felix is hungry for you, like he can never get enough of your taste and the way you feel against his tongue, the way you grip his hair or press your thighs around his head.

He ruts against the bedsheets as you slide your middle against tongue, gripping his hair.

He moans into you, the vibrations helping you get closer to the edge as he digs his nails into your plushy thighs.

Fireworks explode from the inside, spilling your sweet juices on Felix's tongue and chin.

"Mm, baby." he whines against your cunt, lapping you up and leaving more kisses on your clit and all along your folds.

"Sensitive..." you whimper and he leans back before lifting up and hovering over you.

"I couldn't help myself, you just looked so sweet while sleeping." Felix bites on his lip as he looks at you adoringly.

"Oh, I don't mind." you smirk. "Let me help you."

"Um..." his face becomes red suddenly. "I - erm, finished already."

"Oh. Oh." you look down at his boxers.

"Embarassing, really."

"It's not. I'm flattered actually." you smirk, caressing his face.

Felix chuckles cutely before leaning down to kiss you.

"What's the plan for today?" you ask against his lips.

"Well, I was thinking we could have a picnic. I mean, it's sunny again." he nods towards the window.

"Okay, I love picnics." you smile as he gets up.

"Actually, I don't remember when was the last time I went on a picnic." you purse your lips, sitting up.

For some reason, memories seem blurry when you start thinking about them, it almost hurts your brain to try and remember well; almost anything.

"We had one like a month ago. Remember? You cut up fruits in the shapes of little stars." Felix says, rummaging through his drawer.

It's as if it suddenly appears in your mind, the clear memory of you preparing for the picnic together with Felix, enjoying a sunny day in the nature.

"Right, I remember now." you chuckle nervously. "Why couldn't I remember that?"

"You just woke up, you need some coffee, my love." Felix comes up to you and kisses your head.

"I'm gonna go take a quick shower." he says and you nod, watching him leave to the bathroom.

You get up and make your way to the kitchen, making some coffee and toast for the two of you, before you start preparing snacks for the picnic.

While you're working on the sandwiches, you can't shake off the uneasy feeling that's creating a knot in your stomach.

When was the last time you went outside without Felix? When was the last time he walked out of the house to go to work? When was the last time you talked to your family?

You can't remember. None of it.

Before you start panicking, Felix appears in the kitchen, startling you.

"Oh, Lix!" you exclaim, your hand on your chest.

"What scared you? It's just me." he smiles sweetly at you.

You stare at him for a moment, could he be hiding something from you?

But Felix is always so caring and loving, he is the best partner you could ever ask for.

He always makes an effort, takes you out on dates, takes care of you when you're tired or sick, is attentive towards your wants and needs; he actually listens to you when you talk.

He loves you.

"Y/n?" Felix chuckles, waving a hand in front of your face.

"Ah, sorry." you laugh awkwardly. "Was just lost in thought."

"What were you thinking about?" Felix grabs one of the toasts you made and bites into it.

"You. How wonderful of a boyfriend you are." you settle on saying, because it is sort of true.

"Aw, darling. Only the best for you." he skips towards you with a big smile, enveloping you in a bone crushing hug as you squeal and grab at him, both of you laughing.

How could you even doubt him?

Felix helps you with the rest of the snacks before the two of you get ready and walk out into another beautiful sunny day.

The walk is short, as there is a park near to your house, your memory now refreshed as you see the tree you always sit under coming into view.

Felix and you race towards the tree, laughing and giddy like little children.

You almost get there first but his arms wrap around your middle and he pulls you back into him, making you almost drop the basket of food you were carrying.

"Lixie! That's cheating!" you put as he turns you around and touches the tree with his foot.

"I won!" Felix smirks.

You pout at him as he puts his backpack down and takes out the picnic blanket.

"Not fair." you whine and he chuckles at you, cupping your face.

"Fine, you won and I'm just a dirty cheater." he smirks and you laugh as he kisses you.

"There, is that better?" he rubs his nose against yours.

"Yes." you nod, making him laugh.

The two of you settle on the blanket, even bringing a speaker so you can play some music while you chat and eat.

After some time, Felix wraps his arm around you and leans on you so you wrap your arms around him as he settles on your chest.

It's quiet for a while and since your focus is not on Felix at the moment, you start looking around.

Cars roll in the distance, one, two, three, four, five, six, then again... It seems as if the same six cars keep passing by.

You stare in disbelief before your eyes fall near the pond where a man is throwing a stick to his dog.

It lands next to a tree and the dog runs to get it, bringing it back to its owner. Then it repeats, the man throws the stick, it lands next to the same tree, the dog gets it, the man throws the stick...

The stick keeps landing on the exact same spot next to that tree, the probability of that is too low for it to be happening repeatedly.

"Lix?" you swallow.

"Yes, sweets?" Felix looks up at you.

"Do you ever- do you ever feel like something is wrong? But you can't quite put your finger on it."

"What do you mean?" he lifts up to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

"Well... Look at that man and his dog." you point and Felix turns to look.

"What about them?"

"Watch where the stick lands." you say and Felix watches as it lands next to the tree.

And so it does again. And again.

"So?" he licks his lips.

"How is he hitting the exact same spot every time?"

"Good hand-eye coordination? Practice?" Felix says, a nervous smile on his face.

You sigh in frustration.

"What about the road? Look at the road!" you point again and Felix looks.

"The same six cars keep going round and round."

"They're not the same, it just seems so."

"Felix, something is wrong. I can feel it! Like how it started raining when I mentioned it. And the lady in the diner yesterday, she kept drinking from her glass but the amount of liquid stayed the same."

"Babe, that's silly. Nothing is wrong. I'm sure it just seemed so, maybe the glass was in the same color as her drink?" Felix places his hand on yours cautiously.

"Lix... I don't know, it's just that I can't remember certain things and it's bothering me."

Felix's eyes dart left and right, his lips pursed.

"Like what?"

"Like the last time I saw my friends or family. The last time you left the house. The last time I was home alone."

"We visited your family two months ago. You saw your friends last weekend. I left the house last week every day when I was working and you were home alone then." Felix frowns as he looks at you. "Baby, are you feeling alright?" he adds, touching your forehead and your eyes water.

"N-no." you whimper, feeling so confused and wondering what the hell is wrong with you.

"How about we go home and you take a nap? I promise you'll feel better after sleeping." Felix coos at you, caressing your face.

"Are you sure it's gonna be okay?" you hiccup.

"I promise, my love." he smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Felix takes you home, and you trust him when he lays you down and whispers how everything is going to be just fine.

You wake up from your nap feeling drowsy and slightly confused.

Felix is next to you, his arms wrapped around you as he breathes deeply.

You sit up, grabbing the glass of water he has left on the nightstand for you when you wake up.

After sipping on the refreshing liquid, you look outside the window and freeze.

"What the fuck?" you mumble to yourself, squinting your eyes as you get up.

"What the fuck?" you repeat, trying to process what your eyes are seeing and Felix stirs behind you.

"Babe?" he grunts a little as he sits up.

"L-Lix..." your voice is shaky as you start panicking.

Felix gets up as you keep staring out the window.

The void stares back at you.

There is nothing outside. No road, no trees, no supermarket, it's not the street you live on, it's one big nothing; just a white light.

"Oh, shit!" Felix exclaims as he sees what you're looking at.

"I told you! I told you something is wrong!" you turn to look at your boyfriend, tears sliding down your cheeks.

But instead of looking scared, Felix looks angry.

"Fucking shit!" his voice raises as his hands reach towards the books on your table, and in frustration he pulls on them, making them clatter down on the floor.

"Felix!" you exclaim as he starts raging, throwing everything on the table down to the floor in a wave of anger.

You've never seen him like this, panicking you step back, not knowing how to react to his outburst or what it all means.

Felix looks up at you suddenly, his eyes softening and filling up with guilt.

"I'm- I'm sorry, y/n."

"Tell me what is happening." you say and he shakes his head.

"Stay here." he says and you step towards him.

"No, tell me what's going on!" you demand and the scowl is back on your boyfriend's face.

"Stay right here and stop asking fucking questions." he says angrily, making you flinch before he leaves the room.

The door slams behind him and as you make your move to follow him, you hear the lock click.

"Felix?" you grip the handle, trying to open up the door. "Felix! You can't just lock me in here without any explanation!" you scream, rattling and kicking the door.

"Felix, please come back!" you yell, your fists pounding against the wood. "I'm scared." you add quietly as fresh tears spill down your cheeks.

Felix disconnects the VR set from his head.

How the fuck did this happen?

How come it didn't render the street as it always does? Why have you started noticing the little things you've never noticed before? Why have you started thinking about your past so much?

He opens up the code with a frustrated sigh, his fingers gliding against the keyboard.

Maybe the AI is getting stronger and more brainy the more he plays with it.

Felix's eyebrows knit together as he goes over the thousands lines of code, trying to figure out if there is some kind of mistake that the computer is not picking up on.

His stomach grumbles and he leans back with a sigh, the virtual food can only do so much.

Felix finally stands up from his table, realizing how long he must've been sitting there judging by the ache in his legs and back.

"I'll deal with you later." he waves his finger towards the computer before picking up his phone and ordering pizza.

He grabs a can of soda from his fridge and looks around.

It's eerily quiet in his apartment, save for the silent buzzing of his computer and the distant hum of traffic outside.

Felix makes his way to the big glass windows, staring down at the city before him.

He's gonna have to go back to work on Monday, knowing he can't spend as much time with you the way he wants to when his vacation days end, brings a sadness to his soul.

The 'you' who basically doesn't exist, you who is just lines and lines of code, a program, there only when he disconnects from reality.

If he could, Felix would disconnect from it forever just so he could be inside the damn device next to you, always.

And now since he made you upset, it's going to be hard to get everything back how it was before, under his control.

He gets angry at himself for not being more careful and adding in more details, all for the sake of just being with you the whole time, seeing you happy and satisified.

Yes, that's all Felix wants.

He wants to be the only one you smile at, the only one that gets to enjoy something so holy and beautiful like your love and your touch.

The doorbell snaps him out of his thoughts and after paying the delivery guy, Felix sits alone and eats his dinner while thinking of ways to correct his mistakes.

You were not gonna slip from his fingers.

This won't be ruined for him.

You open your eyes and turn to see Felix already awake, on his side, his head propped on his hand as he stares at you lovingly.

"Good morning, my angel." he smiles at you.

"M-morning. I- ugh... I feel weird. I think I had a nightmare." your throat is dry as you swallow and Felix grabs the glass of water, bringing it to your lips.

"What kind of nightmare?"

"Well, there was nothing outside- outside the windows. And you got mad and started throwing stuff around. You really scared me."

"Oh my love, that would never happen." Felix quickly wraps his arms around you. "Everything outside is fine too, look." he turns you both towards the window and sure enough, everything looks normal.

"I'm so glad it was just a dream. I never want us to fight or anything." you whimper and Felix shushes you.

"Everything is perfect, my love. And I will make sure it stays that way." Felix mutters into your hair before pressing a few sweet kisses there.

"It's my last free day before going to work. Let's enjoy it together, without you worrying your pretty head about anything, hm?" he adds and you nod with a chuckle.

Felix and you decide to go bowling and then out for lunch, topping the outing off with a nice walk near the beach and everything seems perfect again; nothing like the bad dream you had or the unsettling feeling in your stomach.

No, that feeling was replaced with butterflies as Felix smiled lovingly at you, telling you how much he loves you.

When you got home, you spent hours in each other's embrace, connected as one.

Everything was beautiful, the way it was supposed to be.

It's Monday and Felix makes his way to work.

The bell on the door chimes as he opens it, eyes looking up at him from the counter.

He smiles wide as he enters.

"Hi, Lix!" you smile innocently at him.

"Hey, y/n." he smiles back, the voices in his head telling him he's sick but he ignores them.

"How was your vacation? Did something fun?" you ask, always so sweet, so polite, so pretty.

"Oh yeah. It was amazing." he nods at you.

You smile, not wanting to pry too much, unaware of what Felix has been doing for almost two years since he started working with you.

As soon as he saw you for the first time, Felix swears he felt Cupid shoot his arrow right into his heart. You were so beautiful, so pure like an angel.

Always smiling, always nice with everyone. The sound of your laughter melodious inside the cafe, echoing off the walls.

You always gave extra sweets to kids.

You always stayed behind to clean up.

You always offered to help out.

He wanted to have you all to himself.

He wanted to capture your beauty and innocence and hold it in the palm of his hand, have it exist only for him.

Yes, Felix could've confessed or asked you out.

But then you would see how boring he is, how he has nothing to offer to you.

You'd leave him, you'd smile at someone else, your attention wouldn't be only directed towards him.

Felix started staying behind with you, under the guise of helping you out just to get more information about where you live, what you enjoy, what you dislike, what your hobbies are.

It wasn't enough.

He became obsessed.

Felix learned your schedule and started breaking into your house.

At first, he stole some panties and went through all your stuff, reading your diaries, going through your photographs, taking your privacy away from you without you having a clue about it.

But then it became worse as he would wait for you to come home, his body cramped under your bed.

He would watch you get undressed, listen to you touch yourself on your bed, his cock straining against his pants and he couldn't do anything about it except squeeze it occasionally.

Embarassingly, he came into his pants while only listening to you more times than he'd like to admit.

It wasn't enough.

Felix was hungry for more.

That's how he came to the idea to steal your dna and feed it to the new AI system he was working on in his spare time.

He had to collect enough of it to have the ai take on your personality, the one he loved and admired so much.

Felix spent hours and hours coding and working on the program, until finally he could use it.

It was everything he wanted and more.

You were happy there.

You were his there.

Here, in the real world, you were just coworkers and that fact started bothering Felix more and more.

Unaware of his intentions, you smiled at Felix and he smiled back at you.

It was time to take another step so he could have you for real this time.

Tonight, you were gonna become his and there was no way to escape.

Felix was gonna show you how happy he can make you, only him.

You're going to be right where you belong.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun

[superblysubpar]

steve harrington x you

2,676 words

warnings: SMUT (oral, reader recieving / public - not caught / a praise kink) | NSFW 18+

A/N: Okay, so this whole relationship has lived in my mind for a long time. So like, I don't know. I guess this is a part of another story I'd love to write, but I don't know if I ever will. But they're sort of rivals at work, sort of friends with benefits, sort of enemies, sort of lovers. They're a mess. But I really love them, and I hope you do too. | so sorry, I know I'm late with all of these, thanks for your patience! There is voting for tomorrow at the bottom of this one, it'll be combined with the other's posted today.

a blurb for the "Trick or Treat, Freak?" event - don't forget to vote for tomorrow's fic at the bottom of this blurb

“Lost?” Your pen clicks beneath your thumb as you keep your eyes on your notebook.

The scent of cinnamon lingers just to your left, the notes of coffee and caramel with it have you deciding it’s not his gum this time as he slides into the vacant chair next to you.

“What makes you say that?” His voice is low, though the level you’re on is a speaking floor, he knows you’ve got that furrowed brow and jaw set like you’re deep in something you can’t quite crack, focused.

A hum rumbles in your chest as you shift papers in front of you and tilt your head, like looking at the page from a new angle will literally help you find yours.

“Steve Harrington? In a library?” Your gaze flits over to him and his chest inflates from the eye contact, even if it is a little colder than it’s been lately.

“Ouch,” he pouts his lips, hand over his cream colored sweater above his heart. Green and gold disappearing as his eyes slit. “I come to the library all the time, actually.”

“Yeah?” Your body turns to face his more straight on, torso curled as you rest your elbow on the back of your chair. “For what?”

Steve’s arms shift on the back of the chair he was straddling, a pink tongue licks out over his bottom lip that twists in one corner. He shrugs his shoulders as he stares at your mouth.

“Research.”

A snort bubbles out of you as you shake your head and turn back to your papers, ignoring the way your stomach flutters at the word knowing full and well Steve doesn’t mean the kind of research you were currently doing.

Steve watches you shift on the wood chair in front of him, eager eyes following the way your fingers flex, the way you roll your neck. His swallow thick when you pull the sleeve of your sweatshirt down over your knuckles and spin the silver spoon ring on your index finger.

He clears his throat and gently sets the peace offering next to your stack of books.

“I’m not here for research-“

“I’m truly shocked,” interrupting him in a deadpanned sigh.

“I’m here,” he adds stronger, leaning towards you so he can softly finish, “To say sorry.”

The scoff you want to give his half-assed apology gets caught in your throat when his hand reaches forward. It’s swallowed down when his fingers tilt up your chin so you’ll look at him when he says, “That was really shitty of me last night. And I’m sorry.”

Steve stares at you earnestly, pink lips unsmirking, unsmiling, solemn and perfectly framed by the length and amount of dark stubble that drives you crazy.

In a good way.

The gold class ring on his middle finger glints in the lamp light of the desk as he drops his hand from your jaw.

“You…you don’t have anything to apologize for,” your shoulders shrug and you look anywhere but his eyes, settling on the freckle just to the left of his lips. “We said this was casual, right?”

Steve nods slowly, he clears his throat. “Right.”

“Besides,” you laugh quietly, you bite down on your cheek when your heartbeat feels like it’s trying to climb up your throat. “I hate you.”

Your gaze cuts to him to find he’s still staring at you, stealing your breath from your lungs and making you fall even further, sure to have injuries when you finally hit the bottom of whatever this is.

“Right. And I…” he trails off and shakes his head. Lips forming a soft smile as he stands up and pushes the chair in. “Enjoy the coffee.”

When you’re sure he’s out of sight, your head falls forward, a loud thunk accompanied by your sigh as you make contact with the wood.

Each breath in is a forced thing, like you’re reminding yourself how to breathe. Each exhale then a relief to something tight in your chest from the weight all of this is resting on you.

Eventually, you sit up, and grab at the coffee, spinning it in search of it’s lids mouth, but instead finding black sharpie scrawled on the side of the cup.

Steve’s handwriting so familiar to you now, it makes that tight feeling in your chest constrict.

Let me make it up to you?

Accompanied by a series of numbers your feet and heart know the way to before your brain can provide a logical list of reasons to not go to it.

Deeper and deeper into the library, up several flights and past crowds, then single studiers, than no one for a long time. The spines collect dust, lights aren’t quite as bright, and the carpet here is plusher than the more frequented stacks, muffling your steps as you grow closer.

Steve sits on the ground, wedged between a ledge of small windowsill and a row of books. His knee is bent, supporting a softbound leather journal against light blue Levi’s. One leg is kicked out, Nike adorned foot restless as his pen flows over a page, then another, furiously, and in a way you know yourself quite well. It means he got an idea for a story, means he can’t stop until he gets all the jumbled words out of his brain and onto the page. So you wait, until the pen slows and he blows out a breath while his eyes scan over what he wrote.

Your head knocks against the shelf, watching him silently and in awe. You’re not sure when habits of his like holding the pen between his lips as his fingers drummed on the page he was rereading or his knee turned from something that annoyed you to something that made the butterflies in your stomach really happy.

But it happened, and they are. Their wings flap around crazily when sunlight drifts in and hits the top of his hair his large hand is ruffling, catching blondes and caramels in the darker waves. They take flight when he pulls the pen from his mouth so it can smile at the page, proud of whatever he’s come up with.

They threaten to escape up through your chest and bust out with your heart when he looks up at you finally.

“Hey, Friday,” he says softly, fondly, a little surprised you came. He stands up and fiddles with the ties of his journal.

The butterflies are now in your throat, threatening to push out all the things you’ve been holding back.

For two people who love words and sure know how to use them, Steve and you seem to be able to say an awful lot without them.

He knows what you’re saying, as you take timid steps down the row to him, that you’re here for his apology though you don’t think he needs to give you one, as you already said, but it’s appreciated. He knows he does when he watches your gaze fall to the floor when his fingers circle around your wrist.

The tender brush of his thumb along your racing pulse, the gentle kiss that lingers in the same spot, and the way he pulls that same hand to rest on his chest, right above his own thumping heart tells you he’s just afraid of all of this as you are.

Steve’s head tilts the same time as yours, an unspoken agreement that, for now, you’re gonna let it go, because this is working, whatever it is. And maybe that’s scary, but neither of you have let your fears stop you before.

His lips hover over yours, bottom lip just barely between his as he murmurs, “I get to make it up to you now, yeah?”

Your head nods, tip of your nose knocking his as he exhales against your jaw. His hands find your waist, they guide you to rest on the ledge of the frosted window, so light can be let in but distraction can be locked out. Steve’s lips skate over and up your jaw, his mouth pressed to your ear. He breathes out, his smile a ghost against the shell of it when you shiver underneath his body leaning over yours. His lips move against your skin, words a whisper that goes straight down your spine and between your legs.

“I know this might be hard for you honey, but no noises. Got it?”

When you don’t respond, he pulls away, hands placed on either side of your hips on the ledge so he can be nose to nose with you again. His eyebrows raise expectantly, his nose taps yours.

“Say you understand.” Though his command is quiet, it’s strong, and unable to be argued with.

“I understand,” you swallow down the butterflies that are still incredibly worked up.

Traitors.

It’s not like you to like to be told what to do, but there’s something that falls away when you’re with Steve like this, like you’re the art that’s merely a hobby for you and he’s the artist. You’re looser, pliant, at the mercy of his hands to do what they want, trusting his vision more than your own.

Steve finally kisses you, though it’s over too quick as he pants out a quiet groan of, “Good girl.”

Your bottom lip wedges itself between your teeth at the praise, the butterflies take it and swoon inside of you.

He drops to his knees, slowly, his gaze never wavering on yours, amber and emerald hit by a band of sunlight just for you.

Steve pushes at your knees gently, his eyes do leave yours then, to follow his finger on its path from your knee, taking the hem of your little thrifted slip dress up with it. The skin beneath your black tights buzzes, making you wonder if a body could catch on fire from just a little bit of friction. If two people who make enough heat between each other…could they both burst into flames, be scorned by the thing they know is bad for them but can’t, won’t, stop.

His other hand joins the tantalizingly slow drag of your dress up, it pushes at your thigh until the maroon colored fabric littered with tiny florals is bunched at your hips indecently.

He leans down, his fingers curled into the dress and bruising at your waist underneath as his lips follow the same trail, up from your knee, stopping to place hot and opened mouthed kisses against your thigh that have your eyelashes fluttering.

Your hand curls around the ledge you’re resting on when Steve’s fingers drag down, following the crease of where thigh meets hip. His thumb’s massage lower and lower until his mouth is open over your center. He breathes out a low groan when his tongue flattens against the damp nylon.

Then his fingers tug, and a loud rip makes you jolt.

“Ste-“ Your hand smacks over your own mouth at the loud call of his name.

Steve’s smile presses to your cunt, as your pulse races. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as your eyes widen, waiting for someone to come around the corner and find you.

Especially when his tongue flattens again, this time in contact with your skin and your eyes practically roll back in your head. His stubble scratches at your skin in that way that drives you the good kind of crazy. Steve licks you once, long and lingering, dragging his tongue through your folds only to dive back down and do it again, and again, and again, and-

His thumb’s continue to massage next to his mouth, they hold you open for him and pull your skin taut so he can trace each curve, make sure no spot is left unkissed by his lips. He goes slow, ‘cause he knows working you up like this is gonna make you yell out his name no matter how hard you bite down on your tongue when you come.

He knows the slow way his tongue traces you like you’re a map he’s memorizing is making your stomach somersault and your chest heave. He doesn’t have to look up, but he does. He finds your head thrown back, your hand pressed to the wall next to you and your mouth parted in a gasp when he pulls one of your lips between his and sucks.

Your chin drops to your chest, a hand acts of it’s own accord when Steve’s gaze meets yours. His smile breaks his rhythm, but not for long when he nods and your fingers card through the top of his hair.

Steve’s hum rumbles against your core, the sound of his tongue against you pornographic, especially with how heavy your breaths leave your parted mouth as he goes back to the flat, broad strokes over and over again and that’s when you realize:

He hasn’t even touched your clit yet.

The thought makes the heat bubbling in your stomach, boil, a new wave of arousal gushes over his tongue and his licks pick up their pace, loving the way your thighs clench around his ears.

Your mouth gasps his name and you bite down on your bottom lip harder, and your hand pushes at the back of his head, fingers curling in the caramel locks as your other does around the lip of the ledge you rest on. Inside your converse, your toes curl as your hips roll against his face.

Steve strains in his jeans when you start riding his face, hips canting up in search of what he knows you’re ready for now. His nose hits it first and his dick twitches when a quiet ‘Yes’ falls from above him.

His lips follow, they press a kiss to your clit, his tongue traces it, and he sucks.

Your legs shake against his shoulders, and you’re seeing stars behind your now closed eyelids when his tongue starts prodding at your entrance, licks through everything you’re giving him and finishes it with circles of his nose to your vibrating nerves resting above it all. He does it over and over again and you could sob, you could beg, you could care fucking less if someone walked by right now.

The butterflies wreck havoc on your insides, pushing things out of place and making a mess so you don’t even know how to clean it all up. Unsure of how you normally breathe, how do your limbs properly function? How does your body do anything other than this with him every second of every day?

Steve knows you’re about to come when your hips shift, like they’re trying to pull away from him, so his hands are quicker, and they catch you and hold you still.

Yours grab at his shoulders as your body curls over him, the warmth in your stomach that had boiled over now floods your entire body, it flows over his tongue. He keeps going while you ride it out, rolling your hips and gasping his name a little too loud.

Steve doesn’t stop till you’re knees are pushing at his shoulders and your hand is back in his hair, lazily pushing it off of his forehead.

The sounds around him finally return, how hard he’s breathing, how hard you’re breathing. The low buzz and hiss of a furnace. A distant cough.

He pulls your dress down again and stands, knees aching a little, but he could care less.

Not when you smile at him all sleepy and satisfied and smitten with him, though neither of you will admit it.

His skin shines with sweat and you and he shakes his head like you’re ridiculous, like he doesn’t know what he’ll do with you, before his lips brush over yours far too soft and conveying quite the opposite of what you both know the other is about to say.

‘Cause for two people who really love words and sure know how to use them, neither of you have ever been great liars.

“I hate you,” you murmur as he leans in.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

I decided that for this one, I'll share a little snippet from some wips that may or may not have already been hinted at in this event. Have fuuunnn

*voting will close at 10am CST tomorrow, 10/10

[wheeboo]

run to you | lee chan

SYNOPSIS. in which your best friend picks you up in the middle of the night. PAIRING. biker!best friend!lee chan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, lil angst, best friends to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, implied that reader lives in a troubled household, lil description of a twisted ankle, kissing WORD COUNT. 2.7k

notes: finally have something written for dino!! i haven't written anything for him in a HOT min that this almost feels out of character for some reason 😭 anyways enjoy <3

Chan doesn't understand why simply the sight of your name lighting up his phone has his heart quickening, head spinning, and adrenaline rushing all in a single moment. But he doesn't give it much thought, his hand instinctively pressing the answer button as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

He brings his phone up to his ear, calling out your name, "Y/N?"

"Hey, um..." Your voice is shaky on the other line, barely above a whisper, laced with something that sounds suspiciously like pain, and it sends a snake of worry up his back. "...can you do me a favour real quick?"

Chan glances at the time on his phone for a brief second, brows furrowing at the late time displayed on the screen. He sits up in bed, already somehow feeling more awake than just a few seconds ago. "Yeah, uh, what's up?"

Silence hangs heavy in the air, heavier than the late-night quiet pressing against Chan's window. He can almost hear your nervous inhale and picture the hesitant frown on your face.

"I left my... well, actually my entire skateboard bag... at your place," You admit quietly, sheepishly. "Could you possibly... drop it off at my door? It's really late, I know, but𑁋"

"Where are you?" Chan asks frantically and seriously that it cuts you off. He hears the way your breath hitches in your throat at the tone of his voice, and it only makes him more apprehensive and his heart hammering against his ribs anxiously. "Are you at the skate park?"

Crap, he knows. He always knows. "Look, I just... needed to clear my head and took a little fall. I'm fine, can you just𑁋"

"Stay put," he commands, leaving no room for argument. "I'm coming to get you."

"What? No, Chan, it's fine𑁋"

He cuts you off, refusing to hear your protests. "Don't move. I'll be there in ten."

He hangs up before you can utter another word, quickly tossing a shirt on and grabbing his keys, helmet (and a second one), and of course, your skateboard bag. As Chan throws the bag over his shoulder, a sharp pang of worry hits him. He knows you're downplaying the fall and everything else going on, but the tremor in your voice paints a different picture in his mind, and he seems to be listening to his heart more than he ever thought he would.

All he could think about is you.

Chan knows not to pry, but it isn't the first time this has happened𑁋where you 'clear your head' in the middle of the night and run away from home for a few hours. But the thought of you alone and hurt gnaws at him more than he cares to admit.

Pushing aside the questions and worries for later, Chan rushes out the door, the roar of his motorcycle echoing through the hushed night. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. As he speeds towards the familiar silhouette of the skate park, a million scenarios play in his mind, each one twisting his gut tighter. He forces them down, focusing only on one𑁋getting to you and making sure you're okay.

The wind whips past Chan's helmet, carrying with it the sting of the cool night air and the echo of your shaky voice. He rounds the last corner, the skate park coming into view, bathed in the dim glow of a streetlamp. He catches a single glance of your figure leaning against wall with your skateboard abandoned not that far away, and his heart jumps into his throat.

He throws the bike into a skid that leaves a dark streak on the pavement, the gravel crunching beneath his tires and the engine sputtering to a halt just beside you. You flinch at the sudden noise, looking up with wide, surprised eyes. Before you can speak, he's already hopping off and jogging towards you.

Something jumps in your stomach when he takes off his helmet, the streetlamp above illuminating the worry etched on his features and windswept, messy hair. Chan kneels before you, the gravel biting into his knees as his gaze takes note of the way you're gingerly clutching down at your ankle.

The concern in his eyes makes your defenses crumble. You open your mouth to explain, but he silences you with a gentle hand on your knee.

"Don't talk," he murmurs, voice surprisingly soft. "Let me see."

He gently pushes your hand away, his touch sending a spark through your already jittery nerves, calloused fingers lightly brushing against away the dirt clinging to your slightly swollen ankle. You wince at the contact, breath hitching at the unexpected touch. It's not painful, but it's strangely electrifying.

"It looks swollen," he states, carefully brushing his thumbs over the affected area. "Can you put any weight on it?"

You hesitantly try to wiggle your toes, wincing when a sharp pain shoots up your leg.

"Fuck, ow," You whisper, biting your lip. You feel the shame and embarrassment burn at your cheeks, making you want to sink into the cool concrete beneath you.

He's always right; you weren't fine. You hadn't been fine for a long time, but admitting it to yourself felt like opening a dam of emotions you weren't sure you could contain the longer you stay here, and you aren't sure if Chan being in front of you was helping with that or not.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Chan asks, voice a low rumble that vibrates through the gravel where he kneels. You can't help but meet his gaze, searching for judgment, but finding only concern and a hint of something deeper you couldn't decipher, or didn't want to acknowledge.

You shrug, hating how weak the gesture feels, pulling back your leg away from him slightly. "It's okay, just a twist."

Chan's jaw clenches, the concern on his face morphing into something else, something you couldn't quite place. "Just a twist? Y/N, it's the middle of the night, you're alone at the skate park, and you can barely stand. It's not okay."

You feel your chest tighten. "I told you I just needed to get some air. You didn't have to come if you didn't want to. I'm fine."

His eyes narrow, and you catch a glimpse of something raw and intense flickering in them.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he asks, coming out a bit harsher than intended. "What if you... what if something bad happened and you couldn't call for help? Do you think I wouldn't want to be the one to find you?"

His words hit you like a physical blow. You flinch, the vulnerability you'd so carefully guarded threatening to spill out. God, you hate that he could see through you, hate that he cares so much, hate that you couldn't hate it no matter how much you tried.

"No," You mumble, swallowing back the heat threatening in your eyes. "I don't think you're stupid. It's just..." Your voice trails off.

"It's just what?" Chan demands, voice tight. "Just another night where you disappear and leave me wondering if you're okay? I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you."

His words suspend heavy in the air, the only sounds coming from the occasional crickets and the rhythmic thump of your heart echoing loudly in your ears. You could only stare at Chan, his intense gaze boring into you, and feel a dam within yourself start to slowly crack.

Chan lets his eyes roam over you, and a twinge of guilt seems to twitch at his lips, his eyes softening noticeably, but barely. He lets out a sigh.

"Come on," he says firmly. "I can't let you stay here alone, not tonight. Let me take you back to my place, okay?" His eyes hold yours for a beat longer than necessary, a silent plea struggling beneath the surface.

He rises from the ground and offers you his hand. The heat radiating from his skin sends a familiar jolt through you. Hesitantly, you place your hand in his, his fingers warm and calloused as they intertwine together clumsily, like you're testing some type of waters. Then he lifts you with surprising ease, the sudden movement sending a fresh wave of pain shooting through your ankle, making you tighten your grip on his hand.

"Sorry," he murmurs, concern flickering in his eyes. "Let me know if it's too much."

You shake your head, unable to find your voice. You're a tangled mess of emotions𑁋relief, embarrassment, and a fluttering nervousness that you can't quite explain. He helps you onto the back of his motorcycle and secures the extra helmet around your head, before stepping away to collect your skateboard from the ground. Then you feel his hand cup over yours, bringing it to secure around his waist, the warmth of his body pressed against yours sending shivers down your spine.

"Hold on tight," he instructs. As the engine rolls to life, you feel the vibration through your body, and you scoot yourself impossibly closer to him, tightening your hold around his abdomen even more.

The ride to his apartment is a blur of streetlights and rushing wind. You cling to him even more, not entirely sure if it's for balance or something more, but it's awfully comforting and... intimate.

You lean your head on his back and breathe in the familiar scent of leather and warmth that seems to calm you more than it should. Shifting your eyes up, you steal a glance at Chan, the moonlight casting long shadows across his determined jaw and windblown hair. You can feel his muscles tense and relax with every shift of the bike, and a strange sense of safety washes over you. You feel a slight tug at your lips at the thought.

As the motorcycle comes to a stop outside Chan's apartment, you linger for a moment, the gentle rumble of the engine fading into the quiet night as he puts it into park. The warmth of his body still lingers onto yours as he takes off his helmet and hops off the bike, before turning around to help with yours.

The brush of your hands against each other sends a jolt through the two of you. Chan quickly pulls away, his hand hovering awkwardly by your helmet, but the heaviness in the air lingers. You look up at him, his gaze flickering between your face, before he fully slips the helmet off your head, hand lingering in the strands of your hair for a moment.

He clears his throat, looking away briefly before meeting your eyes again.

"I, uh... should get you inside," he finally says.

You only give a nod. But as you attempt to step off the bike, the pain in your ankle shoots up your leg, bringing a wince to your face.

"Here," Chan says quickly, kneeling before you again. "Let me help."

He carefully scoops you up in his arms, the familiar scent of leather and warmth enveloping you once more. This time, you don't try to pull away, your heart pounding against his chest as he carries you inside.

He takes you to his kitchen, helping you sit on top of the counter, and you can't help but let out a quiet, soft sigh of relief. As he draws away from you to rummage through the drawers, you glance around his kitchen, noting the small stack of dishes in the sink, the motorcycle magazines scattered across his little eating area, and an empty bowl of cereal𑁋a glimpse into his life you hadn't seen before.

It's silent when it all happens, almost too silent it's suffocating. But as Chan comes back to you with an ice pack and a bottle of pills, you could only watch him. The soft light from the hanging lamp above bathes his face in a warm glow, and you catch the way his gaze lingers on your face a moment too long.

He reaches out, gently placing the ice pack on your swollen ankle. His touch is light, almost tentative, yet the cold feeling makes you flinch, but Chan's hand rests gently on the skin above your ankle, the other cupping at your knee. There's a part of you that wants to pull away from him, from everything happening right now, but you don't. You don't want to. You can't. He's worried, frustrated, and maybe even a little hurt, and you understand why. You've pushed him away again, and he's tired of it.

"I..." You start, a tremor betraying your words. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Chan glances up at you. "But you did," he replies lowly. "You always do. And it scares the hell out of me."

The tension hangs thick in the air as Chan's words sink in.

"I-I'm sorry, I really am," You mutter, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "It's just... things are hard at home, and I don't know how to deal with it. Being away just seems to... clear it all up a little bit, you know?"

"Then why run away when you can run to me?" He's standing right in front of you at this point, one hand still on your knee.

"Why do care you so much?" You counter almost defensively, feeling yourself tense right under his gaze.

"Because the more this happens, the more I realise I don't want to be your friend anymore," he answers simply, then lowers his voice. "I can't be... just your friend anymore when I want to be the person you run to."

The world freezes. Everything freezes, and you could only stare at him with widened eyes and a pure look of shock. Nothing but silence stretches between the two of you, and the hammering in your chest only grows stronger by each passing second.

Chan lowers his gaze to the floor, taking his hand off your knee and running it through his hair. "Fuck, I shouldn't have..." He catches a glimpse of the bottle of pain medication right next to you. "Let me get you some water𑁋"

"No, wait." You grab at his hand, causing him to halt, and he looks back at you. "Don't... go yet, please?"

Chan hesitates, before giving in, finding himself standing right back in front of you, the two of you almost eye-level. Except you shoot a quick look at his lips, then up to his eyes, before letting the hand wrapped around his wrist pull him even closer to you, to the point where he's almost standing between your legs.

His breath hitches from the sudden closeness, but he shouldn't be like this right now. Not when you're hurt and vulnerable. He can't tell you that he wanted you the moment you met two years ago when you rolled past him one day on the way to the same skate park, can't tell you that he would choose you over everything else in a heartbeat.

But all those thoughts are pushed away the moment he feels your lips on his, and his hands come naturally to your waist, as if afraid you might slip away. His lips seemingly mold perfectly with yours, and you can feel the longing in the way his fingers seem to tighten its hold on your shirt.

Your lips part for a brief moment, and there's a long moment that passes before Chan leans in again, capturing your mouth a bit more fervently, a bit more passionately than before, yet nonetheless still sweet and tender. The world outside disappears, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, the soft hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the gentle glow of the kitchen light above.

When you both pull away, there's a breathless pause.

"Are you... are you okay?" he asks cautiously. "I'm sorry, it just..."

"No, I'm... I should say sorry for... everything," You cut him off. "I shouldn't have made you worried or... pushed you away. I'm sorry."

"All I ever want is to make sure you're okay, Y/N." His hand is back at your knee again, finger tracing reassuring shapes, easing the tension out of your body.

You let out a nervous, light-hearted chuckle. "We're not even together yet and I'm already causing you so much trouble."

Chan's expression softens, and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your skin.

"Who said I wasn't yours yet?" He leans back in, teasing his lips back against yours. "I can be, if you want me to be."

another note: ending is a lil rushed im sorry oops i wrote this rlly late 😭

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziees @mirxzii @bookyeom

[spoofymcgee]

She feels Hermes arrive more than anything; the flutter of his wings against her skin. He's picked her bad side to appear on, and she's not sure whether it's forgetfulness–doubts it, as Hermes is shrewder than he likes to appear, but usually more considerate as well.

He doesn't say anything, though, content to be a presence sitting next to her and another pair of heels kicking off the side of the cliff.

Ithaca has become something of a hotspot for gods these days, and she doesn't know whether it's because of herself or Odysseus. Telemachus, perhaps, finding wayward deities off on his journey and sending them home for her to deal with. If it is, she might have to shake him next time he comes back.

*He'd have been better as your student," Athena says, finally, once they've watched Odysseus fleece two more sailors cocky enough to challenge the king, and sneak four coin pouches, six hats and nine knives off the spectators in the process. He'll give them all back at the end, but he seems like he's enjoying the challenge, and Penelope sits a polite distance away chatting with the captains' wives and occasionally glancing over to grin at him.

"Who?" Hermes says, like the answer isn't obvious. "Oh, Odysseus? Darling, where in the world did you get that conclusion from? Does Persephone have a new sort of flower she's growing, and if so, where can I get some?"

"Don't be an idiot," Athena tells him, but it doesn't come out half as annoyed as she'd meant. Damn, she really is going soft. "I mean it. Look, he's perfect for you, and you wouldn't have led him astray like I did."

"Do me a favor and don't try and foist your pupils off onto me," Hermes says, checking his nails in the sunlight. He's been down in the Levant again recently, she sees; they're colored a faint orange with darker, intricate designs twisting up his knuckles.

"I'm not," she says, feeling the feathers framing her face ruffle in indignation. "He's mine for as long as he'll have me. I'm only saying, if things were different..."

"But they're not," Hermes says flatly, looking up at her. "We live here and now, dear. Besides, if he was my student he would have been even sneakier, and no one would have taken that well. He wouldn't have made it past the age of twenty, and he wouldn't have been brave enough or good enough to protect his family."

"You can't know that," Athena protests, though her hand drifts absently to the edge of her scar.

"And neither can you," he points out, pulling one foot up to tuck under the opposite thigh. "So stop trying. Odysseus is home, Athena. By the looks of it, you are too. You're not doing anyone a favor by living in the past."

She looks down at her hands, twisting in her lap.

"You're a warrior," he says, voice softening. "You've never given up in your whole life. Don't let yourself lose this battle just because you're fighting your own brain."

The breeze is cool on her face, and she grits her teeth as matching tears slip off her chin and land on her chiton. "Alright."

"Good," Hermes says, and hits the cliff with his heel hard enough to send him twirling into the air, sandals fluttering. "Now, take me to where the olives are, I'm positively starving." He holds his hand out like a princess waiting to have it kissed, the other wrist pressed to his brow with his head thrown back, and she can't help but laugh. He's kind enough to ignore how wet it sounds.

"We can't have that, can we?" she says, and launches herself past him fast enough to send him spinning, and doesn't need to look back to tell he's chasing her–the playful outrage is loud enough even for her to hear.

[heartfullofleeches]

[Request] Reader caring for a sick Remmy [Dollmaker Yan Oc]

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.1k

-

“Remmy isn't home right now…. Please come back later.”

Could this day get any worse?... Weeks, months even, building up the courage to ask you to hang out with him. It wasn't like he asked you out on a date or anything, not yet anyway. He still needed to test the water a little longer, make sure the signals he had picked up from you weren't figments of his imagination. All that time, all those embarrassing hours spent in front of the mirror practicing what to say given any outcome - flushed down the drain in one night. 

Remmy could hardly open his eyes the morning you were intended to meet. You didn't even recognize him over the phone at first. In his heightened state of delirium from the fever racking his weary mind, he hoped the same would happen as you continuously rang his doorbell - demanding in the softest voice you could manage for him to open up.

As if he could be that lucky….

“And where, pray tell, would someone hacking up a lung over the phonean hour ago be right besides the hospital? It's not that far away. I can head over right now and check.” 

….

“Open this door right now, Remiel. You're not going to flake on me twice today.”

Did you have to phrase it like that? Kicking a sick person while he could barely stand was cruel - even if you did come to check up on him. 

“O…okay…. Remmy is- I'm going to unlock the door, just…give me a minute to clean up my room. I have some stuff out I really don't want anyone to see…”

The muffled shuffling of plastic splices between the click of the lock as Remmy unlocks the front door. 

“60.”

“Crap.” 

Hobbling away from the front door, Remmy clings to the hallway walls as he makes a break for his bedroom. The straight path twists and bends as his stress levels skyrocket from the very real fear of you finding out what he had stored. There wasn't enough time for him to hide everything. His top priority were the worst offenders - items he couldn't excuse as being a result of his relatively harmless hobby. Doll clothing fashioned after clothes you'd yet to wear for the public eye. Others you never owned and probably would never wear, unless they were for a partner or to make yourself feel good. Pictures of you hung up on his walls. So much to bury in such little time. 

“They can't see that…That one either. God, they'd kill me if they saw-”

“Saw what?” 

A hoarse yelp claws its way out of Remmy's aching throat. Standing in his doorway, you balance two separate bags in your arms - awaiting his response. Remmy hurriedly pulls the corners of his blankets over the space beneath his bed. 

“I…threw up a bit ago. Guess I'm feeling worse than I thought when we spoke over the phone.” 

In the blink of an eye you're by his side. Remmy flinches as you press the back of your palm against his forehead.

“Oh, Rem….” Concern oozes from your words as you set your bags down, taking hold of his arm. You're burning up. Come on. Let's get you back in bed.”

“You don't have to go through all this for me, Y/n. Really, I'm-” His sentence falls short as you scoop him off the floor, sitting him up on his bed. Were you always this strong - or had he always been this easy to carry? In that moment, Remmy felt just like one of his dolls. His head spins at the very thought. You take the opportunity to gently ease him down against the mattress, rolling the discarded sheets up to his waist. You pick up the plastic bags, setting them on the small table in the center of his room as you rummage through them.

“Got some chicken soup from this dinner down the street. If you can't keep anything down, maybe the broth will be a good place to state. Oh!- picked up some ginger ale too. That might help with your stomach too. Cough drops, cough medicine…. Do you prefer liquid or pills?” 

Remmy turns his head away from you as he coughs into his fist. “...whichever…whichever you brought is fine.”

“Well,I actually bought both, but I can just return the other on my way home later. I'll go grab you a cup real quick.”

Heading for the door, Remmy’s meek voice calls out to you - barely about a whisper. “Y/n?”

Hand on the doorframe, you gaze over your shoulder at him. “What's up? Need something else while I'm in the kitchen?”

“No…” Remmy shakes his head, the pressure of a headache hammering at his skull. “Agh… Remmy… I just wanted to thank you…for this. You really didn't have to come over…” 

A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “Don't think I did this for nothing. Gotta make sure you're well enough for our date next weekend. The park is nice and all, but that's where we always go. I expect to be taken somewhere else for our first date.”

“Date?” He couldn't have heard you right. But, you said it - twice. You disappear down the hall before he can properly question you. Was this all a dream? The conjurings of his ill mind as the sickness took hold? This felt better than anything he could imagine- Your hushed voice as you reenter the room confirms it. You wiggle your arm behind his head, helping him sit back up just enough to place the cup to his lips without him choking while swallowing. A part of him wished this was a dream. One that he'd never wake up from if he had the choice. Another dream come true was waiting for him once he got better.

“Remmy?...Rem?”

Soda spills onto your hand as the weight of his head crashes upon your shoulder. Did he…. fall asleep? Just like that? You hadn't even given him his medicine yet. At least the sleep will be good for him. You should probably go put everything else you brought up to pass the time until he wakes up. 

“Mmm…”

Remmy’s face scrunches in discomfort as you part from his side, lowering his head onto the pillows as you stand. Your foot touches something soft beneath his bed. You reach a hand underneath - completely forgetting about his earlier warnings as your fingers wrap around the squishy item. A doll with instantly identifying features stares back up at you as you drag it from its prison. Funny - you don't remember wearing this shirt around Remmy. You only bought it a few days ago. You planned to wear it today before he told you the bad news.

Shrugging, you raise Remmy's arm - tucking the doll against his chest. His face melts into that of peaceful bliss, body curling around the doll as his other hand strokes its face as if on auto-pilot. You press a kiss to his forehead - shutting off the lights in his room as you depart for a second time.

[sugar-omi]

[part 2/alt, fem/afab reader]

imagine deciding to lose your virginity to cove.

you're both eighteen, horny as shit, but you don't wanna give it up to just anyone. so it only makes sense to lose it to your best friend right? and not some college douche who'll only brag about popping another freshman cherry

cove's so flustered when the thought is put out there.

it doesn't even matter who asks first, because after the proposal is floating between you, neither of you can even think if you or him said it. the words, the idea. the thought of doing the act.

and when cove finally, but tentatively, leans forward to kiss you. it's all downhill.

it's a messy kiss, because even if you know how to kiss, you're both too excited to even bother worrying about making out like stupidly inexperienced teens, your tongues sliding along each other and your eyes rolling when cove sucks on your tongue, pulling at your clothes, flinging off his own clothes when you pull away to tug off yours.

you can hardly get your shirt over your head before his lips smash into yours, his body leaning forward, which forces you to lay back on the bed, arms tangled around his neck and cove's trailing from your jaw to neck, down your collarbone to your abdomen, leaving wet, dark hickeys along the way.

you can scold him later. but can you really complain since you've left your own set of hickeys on cove, some darker than others, sure to be evident for days

and even though it's his first time, he's a bit relentless. enthusiastically eating you out / sucking you off until you're begging him to get off, jumping and whining every time his fingers curl against your gummy walls

and when he finally sinks into you, he kisses your tears away, soothes you as he slowly sinks inside. he's trying to be patient. but his head is spinning and his senses are totally fogged up.

he's so sweet, really. holds your hand and everything, praises you, tells you he loves you. isn't even sure if he means it as a friend or as a crush, the lines of your friendship is blurred now. after this, it'd be way too awkward to go back to just "best friends", right?

but you trust him, you said so. both of you trust each other enough to at least not regret sharing your first time with each other

and even when his gentle, shallow thrusts turn into his hips slapping against your butt, his cock head bullying your sensitive cervix / prostate, even when you sob because you can't help but finish prematurely around his length, and locking your legs around him so he doesn't pull out.

can't even bring himself to worry about anything afterwards when you're making such a pretty face, hot and sweaty, your face twisted up with pleasure and you're clinging onto him for more

kisses you to muffle your moans, you're both far too loud, even if you have the house to yourselves right now. what if someone comes back?

it's so intimate this way. his arms wrapped around you, his dick lovingly stroking and hitting all those sweet spots inside you.

it's even intimate when he carefully cleans you up afterwards, as if apologizing for getting carried away, and audibly apologizing for biting your shoulder when he came

he didn't mean to be so rough, promises he won't do it again.

startles himself when he says it, he doesn't mean to be presumptuous! he doesn't expect this twice! but i mean.. there's time before you leave for college, so maybe a little more experience won't hurt..

[moonstruckme]

Congrats on 1k love!!! Im so happy for you, you deserve all the love 🩶

Could i request a ravenclaw!reader who's a little volatile (i suppose like dark acadameia) that the slytherins have kind of adopted (because shes volatile not violent and they think its cute). But shes been in a relationship with Remus on the down low and they realise at a halloween party?

I imagine Remus as an angel while reader is a devil and the slytherins were already concerned by the costume but then they notice you and Remus and just loose their marbles. Barty's having a meltdown, evans im shock and Sirius is cackling because Regulus is trying to stand tall but Remus is so much bigger than him its just impossible.

Anyway, tysm for your wonderful self and feel free to twist this however fits you, love!!

Hi lovely, thank you so much! I'm assuming you meant this to be for the Fade Into You part of the celebration since it's a specific reader, and also I don't know the Slytherin boys very well so I feel like my characterization could be wayyyyy off but I hope this is alright!

join the party

Remus Lupin x Ravenclaw!reader ♡ 930 words

You’re dancing with your friends when your drink is plucked suddenly from your hand. 

“Hey!” You spin around to find the thief, and then your tone changes completely. “Hey, Remus, you came!” You crash into him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Remus hugs you back the best he’s able, a drink in each hand. “And you wore your costume!” You grin as you pull away, resting a hand on either side of his face to admire how soft and sweet he looks in seraphim white. “Is that glitter on your cheeks?”

Said cheeks grow warm under your hands. “That’s Sirius’ touch.” 

“You look very pretty.” He grins, and you stand on tiptoe to whisper sweetly in his ear, “Now give me back my drink, pretty boy.” 

Remus’ smile doesn’t waver, but he becomes a tad more serious about the eyes. “How many have you had?”

“Oh, don’t be such a drag, Lupin,” Barty pipes up, coming up behind you to sling an arm around your shoulder. “She’s fine, and not that it’s any business of yours, but we won’t let anything happen to her.” 

“She just seems like maybe she’s had enough,” Remus replies, and his tone is far from unkind, but there’s an edge of admonishment to it that has Barty bristling noticeably. He turns back to you, voice softening. “What do you say, lovely, want to go sit down for a little while?”

You look at Barty, who raises an eyebrow at you. Behind him, Reggie stands with his arms crossed, looking bored with the whole thing.  

“I won’t be gone long,” you say in apology, and Barty scoffs disgustedly, but releases you. 

“Fine, go play with your costume buddy,” he says. “We’ll be here when you get sick of him.” 

You take Remus’ hand in one of yours, flipping Barty off with the other. 

“Are we really going to sit down?” you whisper hopefully, and Remus chuckles. 

“Yeah, we are. Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not exactly walking in a straight line right now.” 

You grin, tugging at his hand playfully. “That’s just ‘cause I’m a rebel. The boys would never let me hang out with them if I walked the straight and narrow.” 

“That so?” Remus hums, pulling you down onto a couch beside him. “Have I mentioned how nice you look yet? You really do.” 

“I’m not supposed to look nice.” You roll your eyes, shuffling closer to him. “I’m a devil, Rem. I’m supposed to look hot and salacious.” 

Remus graces you with a smile, brushing a piece of hair from in front of your eye. “You do look hot, but you look nice too. I don’t think you can help that one, dovey.” 

“Yeah?” You bat your eyelashes, moving into his lap. Remus’ eyebrow quirks up slightly, cheeks glittering with the movement, but he doesn’t stop you. “Is it just that I radiate sweetness?” You kiss his jaw. “And patience?” Remus’ cheek is faintly pink where you press your lips. “Innocence, certainly,” you tease, breath hot on his ear, “but what else?” 

“Dove,” he whispers, “I think your friends are watching.” 

“Hm?” You look up, and sure enough, Regulus, Barty, and Evan are standing just a few feet away by the punch bowl, expressions ranging from bewilderment to abject horror. “Oh. Oops.” 

“I—I can’t,” Barty sputters. “I can’t be seeing this. Are you plastered? Get off him.” 

You don’t, but Remus does it for you, standing and setting you on your feet as Regulus stalks forward. He stops with his arms crossed in front of the two of you. 

“Is this who you’ve been ditching us for lately?” he asks you. 

You start to reply, but Barty talks over you. “No.” He shakes his head. “No, there’s no way. There’s no way.” 

Others have started migrating toward you to watch the show, among them Remus’ friends. Normally you wouldn't care, but Remus is beginning to squirm, so you try to calm things down for his benefit. 

“You guys are overreacting,” you say, as peaceably as you’re capable of. “As if it really matters what house my boyfriend is in.” 

“Boyfriend?” Barty despairs, and you should have known better than to think anything could quell his dramatics once they’ve begun. “God, as if the costumes weren’t bad enough, you have to throw lovey-dovey terms like boyfriend around.” 

A peal of laughter sounds from somewhere nearby, and you look around to find Sirius, eyes already wet with mirth as he watches his younger brother. “Reggie,” he manages between giggles, “are you trying to look taller than him?”

Reg raises an unimpressed brow, and anyone who didn’t know him well might not notice the flicker of embarrassment in his gaze. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, but his posture is better than you’ve ever seen it, his neck elongated in an attempt to look Remus in the eyes without having to tilt his head. 

“Reg.” Sirius swipes under his eyes. “You may be taller than me, but you’re never gonna get all the way up there.” 

“Alright,” you say decisively, taking Remus’ hand and proceeding to push past Regulus’ stiff form. You shoot Evan a half-apologetic look as you go by, still standing frozen like he’s been stupefied, and Barty follows your movement with eyes blown wide. “Just for that, we’re going back to you guys’ dorm, Black. And we’re going to fuck, loudly, all night.” You shoot your most winning smile in his direction, even as Remus’ face takes on a fiery hue beneath the white glitter. “I wouldn’t recommend coming home. Goodnight!”

[forcebewitht]

Dorm leaders with an s/o that likes to randomly hug them out of nowhere?

Twisted Wonderland: The Huggy S.O. X The Dorm Leaders

🌹Riddle Rosehearts🌹

Honestly? I feel like it would come as a surprise to him

From what we know from this poor guy's past and stuff, boy probably didn't get hugs often

Most likely, it also depends on where or when you do it for him as well

If you hug him in the middle of, say, him talking to his dormmates or attempting to discipline someone????

You might either get a click of the tongue from him combined with a look

Or straight up possibly fussed out about interrupting him

However, if you do it in close quarters?

You'll feel him tense up for the briefest of moments, but he'll eventually lean into it a little

If he's really in a bad mood, he'll almost instantly lean his head onto your chest or shoulder

The tighter the better, most likely

He sometimes isn't sure how to fully give it back, so he'll just sort of pat your back or shoulder for a second

"Tsk...again with this, my rose? ...Oh, alright. I suppose I can allow this type of contact for now...just stay there, okay?"

🦁Leona Kingscholar🦁

For the love of the Great Seven, don't do it when he's napping-

Yes, I know it looks comfortable and I know he's insanely warm

But this man is going to probably open an eye and growl at you so fast-

Unless he is in a very specific sleeping position, then he's actually asking for you to act as a sort of secondary pillow for his form

Don't do it in front of his dormmates, they'll start attempting to tease him for the softness/it'll ruin his image

Other than that, he probably will sometimes attempt to be the first one to grab you himself

His little herbivore wants a hug?? Sure, as long as everyone sees him doing it and knows that you're his

Probably does it a lot to make sure his scent is prominent on you as well, if anything

If you're the one to start it, he'll most likely just sink into it (pray he doesn't fall asleep on the spot-)

"...Hmm? Does the little herbivore want to be near me again? Hah, you're so desperate to do that, aren't you? Sure~"

🦑Azul Ashengrotto🦑

He's mostly similar to Riddle- depends on where you are

If he's, say, in the middle of a most likely illegal very sound business transaction? He's going to smile and everything, but his eyes tell all-

If it's in the middle of him walking or say, the Monstro Lounge?

He's going to get flustered inside very quickly, but is easily able to mask that with a bright smile and embracing you back

He'll probably whisper a little warning into your ear or saying that it can be continued later on

If you're in close quarters? He's all over you.

I mean- probably literally all over you.

Especially after a hard day working or if a transaction didn't go too hot

You honestly kind of remind him of the pot he used to hide himself in when he was younger, so the pressure and being able to wrap himself around you is actually insanely comforting

He's the type to bury his head into your neck in these moments, keeping as close to you and your comforting body as possible

"Ah~? Did my little angelfish want yet another hug from her darling~? Alright, as you so desire, but make it quick- I have work to do, you know~"

☀️Kalim Al Asim☀️

Out of everyone listed? You already know Kalim's going to be all over you, too.

In fact, sometimes he does it to you before you can even notice he's there yourself-

He'll just spot you out of nowhere and make a beeline to you and yank you off your feet

He's a fan of spinning hugs the most, loving to laugh and smile with his lover at any point and make them feel like they're in a whole new world

He'll reciprocate any hug you give him instantly

So, if you're the one to hug first, he's already hugging you back tightly and peppering kisses all over your face, neck, shoulders- wherever he deems fit.

Just like Azul in close quarters, Kalim is all over you

He'll make sure that you both have the most comfortable set up ready for cuddle sessions whenever you like

Jamil gags in the background at the sugary sweetness, but that's okay

"Huh- oooohhh, ahaha! Hiiiii! Did you miss me? I missed you, too! Awww, don't worry, when we get back to my dorm tonight, you can cuddle me as much as you want, okay?"

👑Vil Schoenheit👑

He's honestly a mixture of Riddle and Leona-

For the love of the Great Seven, PLEASE don't do it if pictures are about to be taken or if he is modeling-

That would be an earful I don't think anyone would be ready for

But other than that, he'll tense up initially at the contact

He likes petting your head whenever you run up to him like that for a hug once he regains his composure (and gets over the shock)

He also enjoys lightly linking his arms around your waist and holding you there a bit

If he's in a good mood, he might even lightly dip you whilst you hug him

In close quarters, he's a lot more hands on than he is in public

He'll enjoy occasionally allowing his head to rest upon your lap as he discusses the day or goes through whatever is needed with Rook present

He also enjoys having his head rest against yours in side hugs upon his bed or a couch at times

"Hmm? Oh, sweet potato- you simply took me by surprise. Did you miss my touch, darling? Don't worry, I'll fulfill that need of yours for now."

💀Idia Shroud💀

Considering he's only ever in his room with the occasional sneak out? He'll get shocked initially, but-

Once that shock is gone, he's probably hugging you back, grinning like an idiot

He'll probably request that he lays in your lap and you cuddle him while he plays a game and you watch, if anything

The first few times you randomly popped in for a hug freaked him out, though-

He didn't know what you were "up to"

But once you (and probably Ortho) explained that you simply like hugs?

Took him a while to warm up to it, but he broke down overtime and now enjoys them

He never knows when to let go, though-

So you two might just be standing in his room, rocking back and forth for a while in a hug

"-Oh. Ehehehee~ heeeeeeyyy. Did your hug stats get lowered? Hope I was able to boost that by a few points. I actually have a game I thought you might want to watch me play....so, if you have time...let's do the usual...?"

🐉Malleus Draconia🐉

Good luck finding him, first-

If anything, you'd probably have to have some sort of tracker put on him to even find him in the first place for random hugs

That, or just follow a trail of seemingly spooked students

I feel like he'd catch on to you being the one to like random hugs, so HE would be the one to pop up out of nowhere to give you one

He's extremely tall, too, so he'll definitely have no problems scooping you up and holding you close

You always feel his warmth and the strength in his grip whenever he does so

Like Idia- he doesn't really ever know when to stop?

So, he genuinely might just start walking with you in his arms still hugging him

Like Vil, he also enjoys resting his head on top of yours during a hug, or occasionally will give a head pat or head rub

He's also a bit of a neck burier, so he'll just sit you both down on a bench or do it whilst you're walking

He enjoys every inch of your presence whenever he is graced with it, after all

If you somehow do manage to find and basically have to jump on this fae for a hug-

He's immediately perplexed, but he'll catch onto it just being you and will hug back

"-Firefly? Ah. Why, hello to you, too. Have I been missed today? Well...I suppose I shall hug you for as long as you so need, then."

~END~

(Long time no see, my dear Readers!!! IRL stuff has kinda been kicking my hindparts, so I am going to attempt to tackle these asks one by one as I so am able to. As for those asking about the Overblot writings- yes, they will be continuing further down the line!!! So, stay tuned~ and as always, hope you enjoyed ✨️💕)

[mockerycrow]

No cuz I'm totally having brain rot of reader and either Price or Gaz. The reader is such a control freak that they cannot justify letting anyone do anything that they don't agree with, until Price or Gaz just come in and fuckin manhandle the reader into submission or something. Bros, I... this got me feelin some type of way 😩

this is a ramble, but!!! my brain couldn’t stop. — PRICE X GN!READER!

[IMPLIED PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP + DOM!PRICE (DOM/SUB DYNAMICS). NO ACTUAL SEX BUT VERY SUGGESTIVE.]

You looked down at the unsorted papers across the desk in front of you, your nerves running high and your stomach twisting. “They never fucking listen.” You mutter, leaning down to write an edit to your newly formatted plan. You had suggested a near fool-proof plan to the team for the upcoming mission that’s happening in a week—it only had one flaw, but it was a flaw you kept insisting that could be overlooked! The building blowing up was not the worst case scenario—

You hear someone knock on the door to your barracks. “Come in!” You call without looking up from your papers. You hear your door swing open and with just hearing the hefty sound of a boot, you already know who it is. You don’t turn around as you sigh and toss the pen back down onto the papers. “John, I honestly don’t really know why you guys aren’t listening to me,” You begin to ramble. “Yes, a building blowing up is bad but is it the worst? I feel as if there’s other bad things that could happen, worse than the building blowing up—“

You gasp as you feel his warm body press against yours. His ungloved hand comes around and gently cupping your throat as his other hand grabs your hip and pulls your hips flush against his, making your head go fuzzy and your words stutter into a stop. Your eyelids flutter shut as you feel him press a kiss to your scalp before he leans in your ear. “Yeah, there you go. All settled down for me now, hm?” John murmurs, amusement lacing his tone.

You shiver when his breath hits your ear, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. Your lips part for you to speak but you quickly stop when John’s hand squeezes your throat in warning, making a pathetic whimper leave your lips, making him chuckle. It makes your face burn. “I think you’ve been worrying too much, sweetheart,” John retorts, making you lean over the desk, keeping his hips connected to yours. It’s taking every bone in your body to not roll back against him. “Thinking too much. It’s time to change that, don’t you think?”

You nod obediently, so instinctively in fact that you don’t even notice you’re agreeing with him. Your head spins, he lets go of your throat, and then moves his hand to the back of your neck—pressing your face into the desk. Your breathing stutters when his boot knocks your legs apart and the excited groan that leaves you is nothing less than desperate when John presses his crotch against you once more.

He hums in approval and one of his hands grabs your arm, pinning it to the flat of your back. John’s other hand grabs your hip and easily rocks you back against his cock, making your lower body melt. You must’ve made a noise that you don’t remember making, because you hear John tsk and squeeze your hip with a low voice saying, “Words, darling.”

Your eyebrows furrow for a moment as your lips part and all that comes out is a garbled, “please”. John laughs and moves his hand from your hip to your leg, lifting it and forcing you to put it on the table, exposing your clothed crotch to him—you don’t even whine about the crinkled papers, especially because you know by the time John’s done with you, they’ll be completely ruined. “Good pet.”

[tinytennisskirt]

The Thrash Particle

loosely based on the song 'The Thrash Particle' by modern baseball (don't let the song deter you! It's not a mandatory listen)

summary: art has loved you forever. but even in loving you first, patrick was first to date you. you're now single and still friends with both boys, but art's feelings never really left, even when patrick's did. Art loves you and you're all he wants, but he can't have you.

warnings: drinking, yearning, some fluff, mostly angst, jealousy, tiny hint of puppy!art MWAH

Art couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch Patrick’s game. Not when his serves used to be dedicated to you. Not when you grinned wide, perfect lips parting for perfect teeth on a perfect day. The sun was setting as Patrick continued to play. The crowd was loud and you were beside him, but he couldn’t do it. Art wondered if he could play sick and pretend he felt better for the party later. 

He didn’t want to leave you there in the stands but the way you cheered for him felt like kicks to the ribs. He usually never had an issue with it, he was over it, past it, beyond it. So you dated Patrick, and that was fine, you were his, and now you were nobody’s and there were no hard feelings. They didn’t exist and maybe that was the issue. Like a ball hits a racket, impact, he remembered sitting back in his dorm at MRTA and watching you kiss him, too high to mind being the third wheel. You kissed Patrick a lot then and it was hard to forget how you did so. Art wished it was him then the same way he still wished it was him in general. 

The problem became Stanford. The distance with Patrick on tour. And it ended mid-summer and apparently, it was mutual but the thing about a mutual breakup is that it didn’t crash and burn into nothing. It was still something and you were still friends and that was fine, on a normal day Art was completely fine with that. You three had always been friends. You just liked Patrick enough to date him and no matter what Art felt, he had to swallow that for the sake of his best friend. There was nothing he could have done back in high school and now you were single, there was still nothing he could do without ruining one friendship or the other. 

“My mom is calling,” Art lied, speaking over the roar of the crowd. Your eyes widened and you nodded, smiling at him too. “I’ll see you back at my dorm?” You shot him a double thumbs up and Art just nodded in return, getting up and leaving, the sun setting behind him, walking toward the night. He took out his phone as if his mom calling was something real and he stuffed it right back into his pocket, sitting at the base of a nearby tree. The dusk was warm and a cool breeze blew his curls around. 

He found himself fidgeting with his watch, twisting it around his wrist, thinking about you and only you. Fuck, the conflict of his feelings. The ones he used to feel so freely. Grade ten, liking you first, knowing you were perfect from the first time he saw you play, spinning in a circle when you won that game, jumping up and down, coming to find him in the stands the second you could. You’d been his friend before that moment. After that, you were everything. And it stayed that way throughout that year. You, Patrick, Art, best friends, always hanging out. Art would flirt, you flirted back but he never knew how genuine it was.

 He wanted to tell you how he felt, but he didn’t want to ruin anything by doing so. So at first, he stuck it out. Shrugged it off, and lived his life knowing he wanted to date you more than anything- pay for your meals and pick you up pretty necklaces from consignment stores and go to movies and have it all. Pretended like he didn’t think about it all the time. He knew it would fuck up your relationship with Patrick if he told you- if he dated you. He would wait it out for the perfect time. But Patrick didn’t extend the same courtesy. It was you and Patrick, over the summer between eleventh and twelfth and it was the first day of school, finding out you were dating. And had been for a month. Because you worked the same goddamn summer job and got to talking more seriously. So serving ice cream between tennis matches turned into something that excluded Art. And it just about crushed him then. 

It did get easier. You and Patrick had him around a lot, assuming that he didn’t mind that you were together. Hands intertwined, Patrick’s hands on your hips, telling Art about the first time you’d… It had ups and downs, he was never truly okay with it. He never truly got rid of the jealous ache in his chest, the ache he had for you, his best friend’s girlfriend. Because he had liked you first, you, young and pretty and spinning. Sparkly lip gloss and rhinestones on your jeans and knit sweaters with cats on them sometimes. The way you only drink tea from November 12th- December 31st because of something your aunt said when you were nine. How you tuck your hair behind your ears when you receive a compliment, how you fidget with your lower lip the same way he does, how you’ve never said no to coffee in all the years he’s known you. He liked you first and he watched you kiss his best friend and it did get easier, but never completely. How could it?

And when you dated it his feelings couldn’t just disappear. That wasn’t him, he couldn’t just turn that off, not when he’d felt this way for so long. So he stopped flirting for what he had control over- sometimes it would slip but you didn’t really seem to mind. And you didn’t seem to bring it up to Patrick and Art wasn’t a homewrecker, so he wouldn’t ruin anything intentionally but some part of him hoped it would end. He hated hoping for that, but what else could he do when Patrick swung around the corner while you two were watching tv and offered to grab you a cup of tea? It was all the hotel room had, but it was November 22nd. You said ‘no thank you’ with that perfect smile, fidgeting with your lower lip. 

And it was a mutual ending and that was the problem. Nothing crashed and burned, it was all still very much existing in the past and you were friends, you were all still friends. And Art still fucking wanted you. It had been worse- the wanting- because you and Art were at Stanford together, and when things were boring, you were in his dorm room laying upside down on his bed talking about everything and nothing and you were close to him. Closer than you’d been allowed when you were with Patrick just for the sake of not coming off the wrong way. You were single and you were beautiful and every sentence spoken in the lamplight of his dorm room on a quiet, intimate Friday night threatened to spill his every secret. But no matter how much he continued to want you, he couldn’t have you. It was wrong to date your best friend’s ex.

Fuck. You were his every thought, all the time. 

He remembered when you were both younger and you’d kissed him on the cheek. Not just a peck either, you’d mushed your face into his cheek, your hand on his other cheek for leverage just because he remembered your birthday. Out of everyone who had forgotten, he remembered and he gave you some stupid gift, a pink tennis ball and you loved it so much because it was the only thing you’d gotten. Even Patrick forgot your fifteenth. It was okay, though. Just made you appreciate him more. And then there was the first time you hugged him, really hugged him, arms around the neck when he won a game. You smelled so sweet. And then there were those casual touches he had never forgotten, too many to count, even now, your hand over his when you spoke or on his knee, or fixing his hair… It never ended. And with you around, it never would. But he wasn’t supposed to feel the way he was feeling for you. It was wrong. 

Art met you back at his dorm. Patrick wasn’t there yet. You’d changed, you were in a pretty black skirt and a pale blue tank top and you looked… too good. You had clipped some of your hair up with little clips Art knew you kept from when you were a kid and you were just so beautiful it hurt to look at you. 

“Okay, so I have shooters and you have vodka and Patrick has mixers.” You worked out the alcohol situation for the party. “Plus I have vodka too, but don’t tell Patrick I’m holding out on him.” You tossed Art the little vodka bottle with enough for two. It was already half-gone and Art gladly drank the rest straight. “No mixer?” 

“No mixer,” he repeated. “How did the rest of Patrick’s game go?” 

“Pretty boring.” You replied. “He keeps trying to pull that one trick shot and fails, so he plays it off. It was just a lot of that for the rest of the game, he looked like he was practicing.” A smile crept up your lips, teasing. “I told him in passing that I would fall in love on the spot if I ever saw that trick in real life and not just on tv and he made it his goal. Back before we were-” you coughed. “But he started trying to master it and hasn’t stopped.” 

“That’s the one with the double fake-out and the back… underhand thing with the twist?” 

“Yeah! That one. Whatever it’s called. He looked dumb doing it, honestly. It involved a lot of twirling to play it off.” You added. Art chuckled, tossing the bottle into the recycling from across the room. “It’s the move from that movie we watched the day we met. You and me. The stupid low-budget tennis underdog movie, you remember?” 

Art laughed, remembering. He didn’t remember much about the day he met you. Not where or even when. but he remembered that movie and the fact he made friends with the girl who sat down with him to watch it on the boxy common room TV because that’s all the stupid VHS would play. Tennis movies. Apparently some MRTA alumnus had directed it. With some movie magic that move that Patrick had been trying to do was born. It probably wasn’t even possible. “I remember. That was the one with the guy whose cat choked on the tennis ball.” 

“Halloween costume idea number one,” you remarked, laughing. It was stupid. Things were always stupid with Art, from the very beginning. “Jesus, the budget was low but they still managed that one shot, that one move.” 

“He’s still trying.” 

“He’s never going to get it.” 

“You hoping that he doesn’t so you don’t have to fall in love with him?” Art asked. Mostly as a joke, but the small silence that came after was uncomfortable. It was only a few seconds. Your eyes met Art’s and you shook your head no, whatever that meant. “I’m sorry.” Even Art couldn’t escape reminding himself and you of things. 

“Why? It’s funny,” your smile broke through the clouds. “I’m confident in him never getting it. So I confidently say I will, in fact, belong to the first person who pulls that move in my sight.” 

“A gamble. What if it’s some old ugly guy?” Art held up his hands like the hands of a monster. Your grin was the most beautiful thing in the fucking world and it was almost heartwrenching to not be able to do something about it. 

You shrugged, just as Patrick knocked on the door. “I’ll just have to be his controversially young girlfriend then. And then marry him and take his money and make my own awful tennis movie.” 

Art smiled, getting the door. He let the conversation slip to something new as Patrick walked in with the mixers. Classic orange soda and for you, your favourite, cherry coke. At least Patrick remembered some things. The three of you talked about the game and you didn’t mention anything about him and his stupid attempts. There were certain things kept between the two of you that almost made up for certain other things.

Around nine, the three of you headed across and just off campus to where the party was taking place. It was a wonder how it hadn’t been shut down yet with the music audible from a street over. You were excited to go and urged the boys to pick up their pace. Art just smiled, trying to, but Patrick was still a little beat from the game earlier, so he wanted to go slow. Art kept pace with you just a few steps ahead. 

“He’s wearing his shirt backward,” you whispered to Art, giggling. 

Art looked behind him, laughing quietly. “Patrick?” 

“Yeah?”

“Your shirt is on backward, bud,” Art chuckled. Patrick looked down and immediately started turning it around. He looked back at you, continuing to giggle. You were so beautiful in the yellow of the streetlights. Art was glad that he wasn’t a bad-decision drunk so he didn’t have to worry too much about anything, taking another swig of the vodka as they neared the house. You snatched the bottle back and copied him, tossing the bottle back to Patrick, who had fixed his shirt now. 

You grabbed Art’s wrist gently, guiding him. You reached back for Patrick’s but he was a bit too far. Your hand then slid down his wrist and into his own hand. He pretended it was nothing, like his heart didn’t skip. “We’ll go around back so we don’t have to pay. One of my girl friends is dating one of the guys throwing the party so they know me. Just come with me. I promise it’s not too bad once you’re in there for a while.” Your fingers went so far as to interlock with Art’s. Art almost pulled his hand away just for the sake of Patrick, but you were only pulling him along, nothing crazy. He smiled, your hand was so soft for a tennis player. He was sure his hands were calloused… “You’re so slowww, come on, come on.” You urged both boys, Art’s hand in your own still, leading them up and around to the doorway. 

You stopped at the door and you pulled Art almost into you when you did. He had to brace his hand out on the doorframe above you to keep from crashing into you. You laughed at him and he just pressed his lips into a straight line. You didn’t even let go of his hand. Seemed the pre-gaming was pretty decent. Art didn’t let go either. Patrick already pushed his way into the party. You just stood at the door, still holding Art’s hand. “I promise it’s better inside.” 

Art laughed, “It’s you who won’t go inside.” 

“Pretty sure it’s you.” You replied, teasing little smile. Pretty. “I’m just. Waiting.” 

“For your friends?” 

He didn’t get an answer. He was only met with your hand slipping out of his as your friends came and grabbed you away, your laughter absorbed by the loud music. You were out of it, it was okay. Art just went to go find Patrick, grabbing the secondary bottle of vodka back from him, taking another swig, no mixer. And Patrick cheered him on. There wasn’t anything wrong with drinking heavily at a party like this. 

You were around, you passed Art a few times, asking if he was okay. You couldn’t hear his response, so you leaned in, asking him to speak a little louder. He told you was okay, noting your handle gently on his upper arm, how good you smelled in this pit of strong perfume and bad cologne mixed with the smell of weed and alcohol. You smiled and your palm grazed his cheek as you went separate ways again, you back to your friends and Art back to find Patrick. 

He couldn’t tell how drunk you were. You seemed about your wits when you found Art again. You were worried about how much he had, asking Patrick how much of the bottle Art consumed but failing to find out truthfully. Art would admit he was maybe just a little bit drunk. Just a little. The lights stretched and he could feel static in his veins but he hadn’t had enough to be drunk drunk. But he was very drunk. 

Art found Patrick, leaning against the wall by the stairs. He was talking to some blonde, Art was too out of it to care. “Do you get jealous watching Y/N talk to other guys?” He asked, filter off. Sober thoughts, drunk words. 

Patrick, also drunk, smiled. “Do I get jealous about the guys Y/N is talking to?” He gestured to the girl he was just talking to. “No, I don’t care. Why, is he ugly?” 

Art laughed, looking the other way. He didn’t see you with any guys, he only saw you with your girl friends. He wasn’t even sure what possessed him to ask the question, but Patrick didn’t care and that was the answer. “I wouldn’t know,” Art said. “Do you still think about her?” 

Patrick shoved Art playfully, “Huh?”

“I’m drunk I don’t know, man,” Art pressed his hand to his head. “I mean I’ve known her forever so it’s weird all around. I think about her.” 

Patrick leaned into Art, their faces close. He grinned at Art. “Yeah? What do you think about?”

“You and her.” He replied, bad grammar. He couldn’t feel much at all other than the buzz that warmed his skin in the already-hot house. “It’s weird seeing her with anyone who isn’t you. I mean, that was just a year and a half ago, right?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “I think about her in a friend way. I mean, she’s hot but I don’t want her anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.” Patrick was a little less drunk than Art. 

Art groaned, “I don’t even know what I’m asking, I’m-“ he leaned against the wall but the wall was a bit further than he thought. Patrick grabbed his upper arm to save him from crashing into that very wall and the boys just laughed at how drunk Art was. The small, weird conversation would haunt Art later when he was sober. For now, it was just really funny. And Art had more to drink from a random girl who poured some of her Smirnoff right into his mouth and he got a shot from another guy with a bong. He was so far gone. So drunk. He even smoked a little weed just for fun. You passed Art again, grabbing his arm so he wouldn’t walk past without noticing. 

“You are so so drunk,” you said, cupping Art’s face in your hands. He grinned wide, eyes shut, letting you. Your hands were soft and a little cold, which was refreshing. “You’re okay?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He replied, not even opening his eyes. Your thumb grazed over the left side of his cheek. He just hummed, which you couldn’t hear over the music. You were concerned for your friend who was usually the responsible one who drank the least just to make sure Patrick’s dumb ass got home okay. Art was a weed guy, Patrick was the alcohol guy. 

You smiled, hands leaving his face, sliding down both of his arms. “Let’s get some air, okay?” 

“Okay,” He replied with the will of a puppy training to be a good dog. He let you lead him to the back door and you helped him down the stairs with the help of one of the guys smoking on the back step. He was really fucking drunk. The backyard was mostly dark aside from the orangey light on the side of the house. He rubbed his eye as you helped him sit down on the swing bench at the edge of the lawn. It was pretty trippy for him to sit on a moving bench, but he was vaguely aware of your hand on his back and his shoulder.

You were sat on your knees, your feet beneath you and the way you braced him was a little bit hug-like, your one arm around him, hand running slowly up and down his back in a soothing manner. “We did not have enough with us to get this drunk,” you laughed gently. He just smiled. Even under the influence, he was a little scared to say something he’d regret when sober. “You promise you’re okay?” Your voice felt like velvet. He could feel it. It was a weird drunk superpower. 

“I’m okay, just had a lottt of vodka. And other stuff.” He smiled, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to look at you, you were so close that if he did, your faces would be too close. “I feel great.” 

“You don’t look great,” you said, tilting his head to face yours with a simple touch of your finger to the side of his jaw opposite you. He was putty in your hands, you could do whatever you wanted and he would let you. It wasn’t your intention, though he wished it was.  “Is something going on? I want to know. You never drink this much and I know your mom didn’t call earlier. Your stupid ringtone didn’t go off.” You knew this might not be the time to get an intelligent answer, but it might be that. Art’s face was so close to yours he could see every detail and speck of colour in your eyes. Even in the dim. 

“What was the question?” He grinned. You just laughed quietly, biting your lip. He was staring at your lips, he knew that. “I’m sorry…” 

“You have had too much. Way way way too much. I think we should get you home. Or even to my dorm. My dorm is closer.” 

Art tilted his head just a bit, soft smile on his lips. “I was thinking about the movie. The tennis one.” 

“Art…” you hushed, your face still close to Art’s. It was no wonder you dated Patrick, you had the same habit of talking way too close to someone’s face. “What about the movie?” 

“I think Patrick is gonna figure out the move.” He said, no meaning behind it. But somehow the words set up the perfect vision of the day he met you. Sitting on the floor. Only a few years ago but you were so cute then and you were so gorgeous now. 

“Really?” 

“Probably. With his luck.” 

“His luck?” 

Art just shook his head, he barely even understood himself. “Fuck, I think maybe I did drink too much.” 

“Yeah?” You smiled, continuing to try and ground him a little more. You’d signaled to one of the guys to grab you a bottle of water and you handed it to Art when you received it. “Can you sit here while I go grab Patrick?” You even unscrewed the cap from the bottle for him. He nodded and you gently pat his thigh, getting up in your little skirt to go find Patrick. He was glad you weren’t there because how would drunk Art hide his stupid fucking boner? 

You slipped into the house again and Art sat there thinking about you. Had he admitted to something yet? He wondered through the alcohol. Maybe he did and he just didn’t remember it already and maybe he wouldn’t remember it again. He hoped he wouldn’t. He drank the water in small sips, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees, shirt sleeves rolled up. He hated that you were off limits. He hated that he wanted you so fucking badly. He hated that in his head he could admit he was probably in love with you. How could he not be? 

Patrick came outside and sat on the swing next to Art. “Y/N is saying goodbye to her friends before we go.” 

“I need a babysitter,” Art chuckled, but the laugh died out. “I’m so fucked.” 

“You’re drunk, that’s what. I don’t know why she’s all worked up about it, she’s drunk too.” 

Patrick still didn’t understand you. Art found that a little funny. She wasn’t worked up, she was worried. And there was more to the story than Patrick could ever know. “It’s fine.” Art managed. 

“How long were you out here?” Patrick asked. 

“Fuck, I have no idea.” 

“Just you?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

Patrick was quiet, but he was smiling. “Uh huh… I know you like her, Art.” 

“I probably love her but it’s all fucked.” Art admit. Patrick’s smile didn’t waver one bit. He already knew it, there wasn’t any denying, he knew Art. And he knew Art loved you. It was easy to love you, your personality, the way you look. “I’m sorry, that is…” 

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re a good guy and it’s hard not to love her. I mean, I never could, not really.” Patrick was also drunk, there was space to be honest. Art just shut his eyes and took another swig of water. “She’s amazing.” 

“She is.” 

“And you’ve loved her forever.” 

“I think so,” Art replied. “Remember watching that tennis movie? The really shitty one? I watched that movie with her before you watched it with her. She watched it with me, then showed it to you.” 

Patrick nodded. He knew. 

And you hopped down the steps and back to the boys, asking if they were ready to go and Art was as ready as he could be. Both boys had confessed to something and now the real stuff was out of the way, you and Patrick tried to help Art walk back to your dorm. The stairs were harder than they looked. And your dorm room was small, but you let Art have the bed. He laid on his side with your trash can next to the bed in case he needed it. You made him drink another cup of water while you changed into your pajamas in the bathroom. Patrick made you a makeshift bed on the floor and you thanked him for everything, bidding him goodnight. Art was too out of it to properly say anything other than ‘goodnight, Pat’.  

Patrick went back to Art’s dorm to sleep for the night. You smiled, looking at Art on top of your purple sheets. He was still laying on his side, fidgeting with his hands. He was feeling just a little less drunk, but still drunk. You put your hands on your hips and he raised his head to look over at you. 

“Are you feeling better?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. 

“Enough to answer my question?” 

“Hm?” Art propped himself up on his elbow as you came to sit on the edge of the bed. You in your pajama shorts and your tank top, no bra. He did what he could not to look. But his focused stayed on you, perfect, concerned. He loved that you cared so much. 

You kept your warm smile on, “Earlier today, the game. You just upped and left and you weren’t being called. And then, maybe I’m reading into it, but you don’t usually drink that much… I just thought maybe something was up.” 

Art heard all of your words this time, noting the way your eyebrows furrowed. “No. Nothing, just two events.” He shrugged. He lied to you, which he hating doing because you were beautiful and he just never wanted to lie to you. But he had to because telling you the truth would be wrong. And would create a wreckage he wasn’t sure he would be able to clean up alone. 

“Art, I love you, but I’m not stupid.” You replied. “What’s wrong?” 

If he had words lined up to say, they were gone when you said what you said. He knew the context, but you did love him, regardless of platonic or not. As much as he wished it was different, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. He looked at you and he wanted you more than anything. He was young, but he’d known his future was supposed to be you. He wondered if he belonged in yours the way he knew you belonged in his. He looked at you, met your eyes, his mouth twisting to the side. He looked at you, wondering how it was possible to need you so badly, how Patrick had you and how he never could. It was unspoken. 

His heart ached. He felt it even through the buzz. His heart physically hurt looking at you. And you just looked back, your hand outstretching to take his. “Okay.” You said, smile still there. “You promise that whatever it is, it’s fine?”

The silence hung for another moment. “Yeah.” Art lied, feeling his chest squeeze just a bit. He wanted the feeling to pass again, he wanted this to be easier. He wanted you more than anything. You were all he needed, he knew there was nothing he needed more, he would give anything to be with you the way he wanted. Anything. Everything. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, I promise it’s okay. I was just worried. And I’m here if you want to talk or tell me… anything.” You grinned and Art grinned back, it was all he could do when you squeezed his hand. “I care.” 

“I know.” 

“Good. You should.” You said. “But you should finish your water and go to sleep. I’m scared for your hangover tomorrow.” 

“Me too.” He said, his chest constricting so much he swore he couldn’t breathe. You turned out the lamp, but the purple night light in the corner cast just enough light. Art’s hand was cold without yours. You got into your makeshift bed and said goodnight to him. 

The next few days Art took to himself. Said he was sick, then he said he had practice. He had a game in just a few days so he made himself busy because that night almost broke him. He needed to remember his place. He needed to remember that he couldn’t have you for a reason. Both him and Patrick forgot about their confessions, their understanding, lost to a night of drinking. You missed him, but you and Patrick understood. Saw him once that week in the cafeteria for lunch. 

And then there was that game. You made plans for afterwards, just you and him because Patrick had to get back on the road half-way through the game. He apologized, patting Art on the back before the game. You rolled Art’s sleeves up, folding them over instead of letting him just push them up.  “Good luck.” You said. And you smiled that winning smile. 

The game began and things kicked off pretty strong for Art. He always played better when you were around, it was just how things went. He played well- kicking the other guy’s ass. He could hear you and Patrick cheering, swearing and not meaning to. It was funny. And then he let it get to him after a week of trying to cleanse himself. It was you and Patrick. You and him, it would always be you and him because he never even got the chance and it wasn’t like he could still be jealous. His chest tightened and he missed the ball. And then it happened again and again and he tried to focus on you. Gorgeous, flawed but still perfect. Kind, caring, intuitive. You with your quirks and favourites and the things he loved about you, but he couldn’t say. He tried to save the game, but it was up and down. 

You watched him, not taking your eyes off the game, even when Patrick pat you on the shoulder and said goodbye. You said it, but Patrick, occupied with his phone didn’t notice that you didn’t look at him. You’d said proper goodbyes before anyways, it wasn’t a big deal. You sighed, watching him miss another ball. This was a game that would help him qualify for so much more… his backhand was off and he just seemed like he wasn’t there. There was only so much time left, so much left to play… He had only a few chances to fix this and you were on the edge of your seat over it. You cheered extra loud for him, crossing your fingers he would pull through. You missed him a lot the past week, you were excited to see him, but with everything that seemed wrong, this just went along with it. He had this game in the bag, he’d been practicing all week… 

He could keep the scales balanced but he couldn’t get ahead. He was so plagued by this thought of you, the twistedness of his situation, how completely fucked over he was. You were there and you weren’t his and you couldn’t, wouldn’t be. It was fucked. It was all so fucking stupid? What did you want? Was it always Patrick? Was it ever him? Could it have ever been him? 

He hit the ball back and scored another point and he just needed two more to win but two more to lose and fuck, he was stuck. The ball went back and forth, the rally having you on the edge of your seat, fully submerged in the game, wanting this win for him so badly. He worked so hard and he’d been so down lately, in his own head and he needed this. Another point was scored by Art. He just needed one more to win. The rally continued and it was increasing in intensity by the second to the degree that it was almost violent. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath at such a close game. 

Art glanced over at you, alone where you sat in the crowd, no Patrick in sight. Just you in the glow of the sun. An angel, a good luck charm, someone beautiful. And the ball came flying at Art in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It was as if time slowed down. Art stuck his racket out sideways to anticipate it. He then switched angles, going at it with an upright racket. A double fake out. Time stayed slow, the ball was still in air and Art stepped backward, twisting his arm around him and itself. The racket met the ball and it was propelled with a mix of an underhand and a backhand at the same time. His body followed through with the twist and his opponent, not knowing what the fuck that was, fumbled and missed. 

Everyone stood to cheer for Art, but not you. You stayed seated, looking at him in complete disbelief, eyes wide. He pulled the move. He did the move from the movie. Art just stood on the court, looking at you. His eyes said what he couldn’t. That he loved you. And you knew it. As if you were telepathic, you knew it. It’s why he practiced the whole week. He loved you and he said it through that one stupid move from that one stupid movie. 

You just tilted your head and smiled. Isn't this what you wanted? And that smile of yours turned into a laugh. A gorgeous laugh that he could hear, even in the crowd. His eyes were soft and they were telling. He hadn’t intended to pull that move when he did. But you swore what you swore. In that promise you’d made, there was some truth. Words unsaid were murderous. Ruinous. You just got up and left. 

taglist: @swetearss @lalalandofive @xoxog0ssipg1rl @bayleequits @reallycreativeusername @kaaaiiaaa

[ryker-writes]

Sibling with a chronic illness (part 2)

This is a second part to one of my favorite things I've written! It's basically angst with the characters who have a younger sibling with a chronic illness and they keep it hidden from their older sibling because they don't want them to suffer more. The younger sibling ends up going into a coma and the doctor reveals to the character that they don't have much time left

First part here

Request rules and Masterlists

Characters: Riddle, Azul, Kalim, Vil

Riddle:

perfection

it was demanded of you from you and Riddle's mother and you were raised to eternally abide by that

anything less than the perfect life that your mother had planned was not accepted

but life always had a funny way of twisting things around

so when you got sick, you kept it hidden from everyone in fear of your mom finding out

and everyone included Riddle

you loved Riddle, and he was a very good brother, but he was...a lot like her and a natural worrier

Riddle had already been through so much with his overblot, and you didn't want to bring more negative feelings upon him

he deserved to be happy and you didn't want to disturb that at all

so you kept it from him

of course, it wasn't that easy

as time passed, you grew more sick, and even started coughing up blood

you were lucky enough that Riddle didn't notice how often you went to the bathroom to cough up blood

but he did notice once that you had a red stain on your clothing

Heartslabyul was often full of red paint for the roses and you were able to convince him it was just paint

it wasn't an act you could keep up forever

as the days went by, you could feel yourself growing weaker and weaker

the worst of it was at an unbirthday party

as usual, Riddle had pushed everyone to make sure this party was incredible

it was exausting, but you pushed yourself to get through it

...maybe you pushed yourself too hard

because when it was time to actually celebrate, the world started spinning and you felt your legs give out from under you before...nothing

Riddle nearly had a heart attack when you collapsed

of course, the party was immediately cast aside as he started shouting orders to the others before taking you to the infirmary

Riddle had never walked through the school faster, in fact he was running

A school rule was not to run in the halls, but right now, he didn't care

No one wanted to get in his way

but upon bringing you to the infirmary, he received the worst news

you were in a coma, and you were dying

Riddle felt stupid

how could he not know? How could he not see the signs?

His own sibling was dying and he couldn't do anything about it

he'd never felt so...helpless

his own mother was a doctor, he should've noticed sooner

he should've helped you

why? why would you hide it from him?

you two were supposed to be close and be able to tell each other anything

but you didn't tell him, and he could do nothing

Riddle had decided to remain by your side for as long as he could, even if it meant not attending classes

because you were more important to him than any rule could ever be

Azul:

Azul an you have always been very close as siblings

growing up, you were about the only one he had for a long time

you were his strength when he was sad and crying because of what others would say

even as you two kept growing and he grew stronger, you two were just as close as ever

he told you everything

you told him...almost everything

there was one thing you didn't tell him: you were sick

it wasn't any normal sickness either, this one won't go away

but you just couldn't tell Azul

you were his strength, and he had come so far from the octomer he used to be

he wasn't as sad anymore and he was doing really well for himself now

and you...you didn't want to ruin that

you'd hate to see him cry again

so you kept it to yourself and Azul was blissfully unaware

he never commented on how you would quickly run off to the bathroom to cough up blood

perhaps he was too buried in his work to even notice

not that you minded, it made it easier to hide

you just had to be careful around the observant eyes of Jade

he would likely report anything suspicious he saw about your behavior to Azul

since no one ever confronted you about it, you assumed that he didn't notice

however...there was no way Azul didn't notice when you collapsed onto the floor of the VIP room

it was right in front of him too

to say Azul was panicking when he saw you collapse was an understatement

he thought his heart nearly stopped, and he was desperately hoping that didn't happen to you

Azul was quick to abandon his current work to take you to the infirmary

it was there that he thought his heart actually did stop

the doctor told him that you had fallen into a coma after collapsing, and you didn't have much time left

he'd be lying if he said he didn't blame himself

you two were supposed to be able to tell each other anything, but you kept this big secret from him for who knows how long

now here you were, laying unconscious in the infirmary bed with Azul by your side

he wasn't going to leave your side, but he also wasn't just going to sit around and do nothing

the Monstro Lounge was being run by Jade during Azul's absence and Azul spent nearly every waking moment by your side studying and researching to find anything that could help you

he was determined there was some way to help you

the doctors just haven't found it yet

you were his sibling, and Azul needed you with him through everything

you were always his support, but now it was his time to be yours

and for you, he would pay any price and make any deal just for you to be awake again

Kalim:

Kalim was always so happy

Even as you two were growing up, his cheerful energy always brightened any room

he was an amazing older brother

whenever you were feeling down, he would do anything he could just to see you smile again

it was very rare to ever see him sad or upset about something

that's exactly why you couldn't tell him the truth

you were very sick, to the point that you were even coughing up blood

thankfully Kalim never seemed to notice

he was always lost in his little world, and trying to get others to join him

if you were being honest, seeing how happy he always was brought you comfort despite your illness

Kalim deserves to be happy

But telling him would mean getting rid of his smile, and you just couldn't do that to him

so you kept it hidden

Kalim was blissfully unaware of your growing sickness and how it seemed to get worse each passing day

even when you got to the point of coughing up blood, he never noticed

in a way you've very happy to have a brother who doesn't pay such close attention

but that would only last so long

after all, it's hard not to notice his sibling passing out at one of his own parties

and for once, the party was put aside regardless who or what it was thrown for

you were a bigger priority to him than any party

Kalim hated to leave parties, but he didn't think twice about it this time

he took you to the infirmary while Jamil handled the aftermath of panic at the party

the entire way to the infirmary, Kalim was fighting tears

he was just so worried

it only seemed to get worse once the doctor saw you, and gave Kalim the bad news

you had fallen into a coma, and you didn't have much time left

Kalim sat in disbelief for a few minutes after that

his sibling...was dying?

how could this happen?

how did he not know?

why didn't you tell him?

there has to be a cure right?

the doctor had told him there wasn't a cure, and Kalim was destroyed

Kalim was lost

he didn't know what to do, but he couldn't just carry on while you were there in a coma

so he waited patiently by your bedside for the day when you would finally wake up

he spent his days rambling to you about things he heard are going on around the school

and he spent his nights crying and quietly begging for you to wake up

Vil:

growing up as a Schoenheit, there was a certain pressure to always look and be your best outside your home

Your brother Vil, was always there to help you with that

he was always accepting of you and helping you whenever you needed it

and when you weren't your best in public, Vil always covered for you

even when you weren't in public, Vil was there for you

that's probably why it was so hard to tell him what the doctor said

the truth was that you were sick, and there was no cure

but how were you supposed to tell Vil that?

you knew that if he found out, he would deny that there's no cure and even cancel a lot of his appointments to find a cure or help you

those jobs of his and all his appointments...that's his career

it's what makes him happy

you couldn't bring yourself to tell him and put a stop to that

he would try to help you and take care of you all the time as kids, so you thought maybe this time, you can do what's best for him

but it was hard to keep it hidden

Vil was observant, and Rook being around all the time didn't help

you would often rush off to the bathroom only to cough up blood, but you had to be extra careful not to have a single stain on you or anywhere in the bathroom in case they notice

even if you were sure there wasn't a stain, one of them would often ask if you were okay

you were always quick to say you were, but you often wonder if they've caught on

maybe they should have

because as the days passed, your illness got worse

you could feel your body getting weaker, and everything seemed more bittersweet

something wasn't right with you, you could tell

and you should've said something

Vil had you come to his room like usual so the two of you could do his special skin care routine

it was usually a very nice time for the two of you to chat and hang out without other people staring at you

but Vil knew something was wrong the second your eyes started closing

"Are you alright? You shouldn't be tired so early."

Vil lightly shook you when you didn't respond before realizing that you were unconscious

without a moment of hesitation, he abandoned the skin care routine in favor of taking you to the infirmary

the students of Night Raven College were shocked

THE Vil Schoenheit was walking around with a halfway done skin care routine, and he looked slightly distressed

rumors were quick to spread, Vil didn't care

you were his priority right now

he didn't care what anyone was thinking, until the doctor revealed the truth to him

you were in a coma and you didn't have much time left

at that point, he only cared what you were thinking

how could you not tell him?

Why didn't you tell him?

He tried to think of many reasons, not a single one good enough

and how did he not notice?

Vil used to pride himself on knowing when you needed help and being there

it was part of your bond as siblings

but you needed help all this time, and he wasn't there

you kept him from helping

he was angry and heartbroken

even though you were unconscious, he spent a lot of time lecturing you about how stupid you were for hiding this from him

whenever Rook or anyone else was there to check on you or him, he would smile and calmly tell them that you were going to be fine

he didn't seem worried in the slightest

but it's only after everyone left that he held your hand and let the tears fall

he didn't care about the mascara running down his face, how his eyes would be puffy after, how horrible his posture is, or even how messy his hair and clothing looked right now

all he cared about was you waking up

[moonspirit]

Jealous aruani are fun and all, but...what if it's their friend that's the reason for the jealousy??? No love triangles.

Annie suddenly feels a twinge of irritation when she sees Pieck say something to Armin and they laugh together. Or maybe Armin overhears gossip about how Annie Leonhart and Connie Springer look so cute together. The next time he sees Connie, his stomach twists. And it's terrible!

Considering how Armin and Annie both have self-esteem issues...well, I can see how that could happen. Irritation, doubt, jealousy, and self-loathing for feeling that way about a friend. it's just painful, stupid and awkward. I have no idea how they will solve this😗

Hello jealousy anon! As promised, and thank you for the ask, it made me laugh xD

Because of-fucking-course there's nobody more capable of causing problems for Aruani off more than their very own family xD If you ask me, outsiders don't have the type of talent the other four have in creating misunderstandings and unnecessary chaos xD Plot-required-3rd-party-love-interest who? Move over, here's Connie the Springer man!

At first it's all quite unintentional. Connie spends time with Annie because Circumstances and Coincidence and hardly notices Armin's watery puppy eyes gazing at him from a depressing corner. It's not like Armin ever says anything out loud either because of course, he's happy! He's happy Annie has a silly friend that makes her laugh and forget that she's awkward and possibly frightening around people. He's glad Connie comes prepackaged with a whole lot of shitty jokes that happen to tickle her. He's really fucking glad Connie treats Annie like he treats everyone else!

But. Connie can also... dance. Really well. Like the guy's got those moves and can easily take Annie for a nice spin. He also... makes her laugh, like... a lot? A lot lot? Hm.. has Annie ever laughed like that with me? Uh... yeah, nevermind that, um- oh god, Connie's been looking pretty nice lately in those suits and he's rather good with the whole easy-fashion thing and uh- well shit, it's Connie, he's my friend, he's not- no, I mean, that photo in the newspapers was just an accidental shot, of course Annie was just laughing at his bad joke but well... she did look really happy with him and, oh shit--

Man.

Pieck on the other hand, doesn't fuck with people more than necessary. I don't actually see her getting *too* close with Armin but they do become very good friends! They have a lot in common, (for example music) and vibrate on the same atomic level of "yeah this is wrong and backhanded and probably will get us arrested in 18 countries but lets do it hehe". Hc that they probably get off to a slightly rocky start as Pieck doesn't put much faith in Armin's "naivete" and harbours resentment for his blowing up of Liberio's port, but as time goes by, they grow closer!

Maybe... too much closer for someone's liking 💀

Because okay? Annie gets it, she finds politics too boring and her takes end up being too cynical and skeptical in the room. Technically, she's glad Armin has someone in Pieck who will humour his ideas with a generous (but nice) dash of realism. Also, they enjoy picking out records together and she often finds them nodding their heads to a new tune once home.

She's glad, okay?

She is, she really is-

*sound of a thigh being stabbed followed by sounds of Reiner screaming*

Pieck is a cheerful girl tho 🥲

On a serious note, both Aruani are going to feel like total crap about this jealousy tho. Because as you said, it's their friends, their literal family who they share a lot of time and space with, and if anything could be clear it's that none of them want to see Aruani unhappy. So its not real, it's not anything to worry about, it's all just in their heads-

And yet.

Tbh the extra funny bit about this is gonna be when Connie and Pieck realize what they're doing to their poor lemonheads xD

"What! We're making you jealous?! wHAaT?? ... Hell YEAH, LET'S TURN IT UP!"

🥲🥲🥲🥲

I mean what else did you expect lol, Pieck and Connie are that duo who are going to derive more entertainment from their very own organic, homegrown family-drama than the moving pictures being shown in the town-square.

Suddenly it's all: "HEHE Armin, I bought Annie CAKES, see? FIVE Cakes! FiVE delICIOUS cakes and *I* am going to give it to her! Me!"

and: "Annniieeeeeeee~~ Oh no, why the long face this morning? Btw did you know Armin wants kids? Like a lot of kids? He told me- oh, he didn't tell you? Hehe I thought you'd be the first to know hehehehehe"

Their approaches to fanning this dumpster fire are different 😌

Their solution when things get too Sad?? Lock Aruani up in a room. Always ends well.

[guardiansvalor]

i think the faeries of cookie run kingdom in general are a waste and that's really sad </3

okay, face it. faeries are already a banger concept, and kingdom's twist on them is really unique! and very ironic — fae are often depicted to be allergic to silvers. really fun spin on it.

but god..... head in hands.... what did you DOOOOOOOO. it's no secret that the beast yeast arc was (and still is) a mess. but i think it's really sad how these sick ass concepts just.. get executed so poorly??

the thing is, in the 3rd anniversary, devsisters was trying to bite off more than they could chew. the introduction of the beasts was sudden, they felt pretty shoehorned in. i COULD say shadow milk is exempt from this — he's got some decent foreshadowing! can't say the others have it going for them...

okay, sure, introduce the beasts. introduce the faerie kingdom with them. these two things of course go hand in hand. BUT HOLD YOUR HORSES WITH THE BEASTS???

it's okay for crk to introduce new nations! but the faerie kingdom was out of the BLUE. nothing leading to it whatsoever. how are we supposed to deduce anything from what, white lily's prologue asset?

it's very possible to introduce a new nation and do it right. dare i say the créme republic? there were previous mentions and hints to it ingame, making its introduction decent. see — if executed correctly enough, the faerie kingdom may not have needed too much of that.

let's say.. i dunno... two beast yeast episodes are equal to two days of odyssey. in two days of odyssey past ch1, that'd give us enough about the créme republic and time to learn about it! the good parts, and the gritty. BUT in the 3rd anniversary they were obviously trying to make it a little TOO big...

it'd have been nice to see those two episodes focus around the faerie kingdom, its traditions, its denizens and general environment and culture. there could've been problems without too much of a big bad, hell we could've had an almost beast escape. but then again, it WAS the anniversary, but was releasing lily not enough?

now don't get me wrong here — shadow milk had a spectacular introduction! he kind of saved the story i can't lie LOL but was his releasing from the seal..necessary so soon? of course, we'd just be delaying the inevitable, but it'd be nice to just..explore our surroundings a little first.

most information on faeriewood and the silver kingdom are in the LIMITED artbook </3 which kinda. sucks.

we should've also had time to meet the characters more. elder faerie dying is chill with me, nice to know devsisters aren't afraid to kill someone permanently. the problem is, his death was notably supposed to have impact. but like most people felt nothing... because elder faerie is more or less a plot device. give him a character, traits we can attach ourselves to!

there's a Lot more i could rant about actually, but my wrist hurts and i'm tired. i've posted stuff about the silver knights before. just had to let some of this out. tldr the faerie kingdom and faeries are a cool concept but dear god they were executed AWFULLY

[writingdevil]

Tongues and Teeth PT.4 (STP)

(Fair warning-Cold is one of the two voices that I'm probably going to have trouble writing,so I apologize if I butcher his character)

*

Paranoid jumped off the rock,spinning around to try and spot the newcomer,useless wings wrapped around him for protection.He did a full rotation without seeing anyone,and he stopped,brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at the trees around him,until the stranger spoke up,"On your right."

He twisted his head to the right,the dimming of the sun making it hard to see anything,but when he squinted his eyes,he managed to catch a flash of movement.A blink.

That was when he realised that there was one of them here,leaning against a tree with his arms crossed,dark feathers blending perfectly into the growing darkness.

The bird tilted his head to the side as he said,"Hello there,"with frost exhaling from his mouth.There was only one voice that could be.

"Cold."

"Paranoid."

"How long have you been there?"Cold shrugged, and Paranoid asked,"Have you seen any of the others?"Cold took a second to think,then said,"I don't remember how long ago it was,but I did see Hero at some point."

Paranoid stepped forward in shock and longing, wringing his hands together,the ache in his heart growing bigger.Cold noticed,and only raised a brow at his reaction,but he couldn't help it.

He would only feel truly safe and okay once he found Hero.He couldn't explain it,but Hero just felt like safety,like nothing was beyond repair if he was there.It might have to do with the fact that Hero seemed closer to the Decider than the rest of them.

"Was he alright?Did you see where he went?"Cold shrugged,looking away."Not sure.He seemed to be in a hurry,but I decided that seeing what this new form could do was more interesting."Paranoid swallowed his scream of frustration,because this was just how Cold behaved.

He took a deep breath in."How are you enjoying your new form?"

"How are you enjoying yours?"

"It's awful,"he tucked his wings behind his back, hoping Cold didn't care enough to pay attention to it,"Now I have to actually worry about me,and the rest of you reckless idiots."

"I noticed Opportunist drop you here.You've been busy,haven't you?"He could've sworn that Cold's eyes darkened."Has he already tried one of his schemes on you?"

Paranoid clenched his fists,feeling Cold's eyes freezing him to the spot."We're just trying to gather everyone.There's me,Opportunist and Contrarian-and now you,technically."

"Oh?"Cold said,and finally pushed himself off the tree,strolling up to him in a relaxed manner,walking into the light so that Paranoid could see him better.He noticed that Cold's feathers were slightly on the thinner side,but not as bad as Paranoid's, and in the light,he noticed that the hue of his feathers actually looked a little lighter compared to everyone else so far.

He kept his arms behind his back,making Paranoid feel smaller than an ant as he said,"What makes you think I want to come with you?"Paranoid gulped, because he knew that convincing Cold to do something he had no interest in was an impossible task,especially now that they weren't simply voices fighting for control anymore.Cold could quite literally wander off to do whatever he wanted.

Paranoid chuckled,trying to come off as self-assured,but it only sounded anxious.He gestured around them."What?Is some dirt and trees enough to keep you in one place for this long?"

"Maybe."What?

Now he was really confused,because that didn't sound like Cold at all.There was no way that he was fascinated with the forest that much. Experimenting with his new body?Yes.Standing in a forest that they've seen plenty of times?No way.

Paranoid lowered his wings,trying to come up with a way to talk to Cold and get him to join them.But Cold had always been an enigma to Paranoid-their whole argument about pain was clear evidence of that.But Paranoid refused to give up-the thought of dying at the hands of her, was enough to send him snapping at anyone trying to make dumb and impulsive decisions.

But...none of that mattered anymore,did it?He could never successfully get the Decider to avoid all the horror that He went through,all the pain and trauma.Paranoid couldn't even escape from a monster without help now!

He wasn't as useful as he once was.Or had he ever been useful,considering all the agony they suffered?

"Oh,"Cold said,bringing Paranoid back to reality, "there's that look again.How odd.I don't think I've ever seen you look like that before."

Paranoid sighed,ignoring the comment."So you don't want to join us,I take it?"Cold hummed,then said,"Not right now."

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why?Tell me what's more interesting than watching us fumble around and try to get used to this new situation.I'd have thought that would've been perfect entertainment for you."

Cold blinked,silent for a moment,then let a heavy sigh out,cold air disappearing into the dying light. "Preferably,I would keep going until I found something that made me feel-something more,but it appears that solid bodies have...limits."

"Oh?So you're just tired?"

"I guess you could call it that."Cold backed away, until he was leaning against the tree again."For now, I'm happy to wait,until I get too bored again.Then I'll see what this place has to offer."

Paranoid made sure to not mention the creature he just encountered.

So Cold was just tired?He was just waiting for the energy to go out and try and feel something again?That was more understandable to him,but something in the back of his head was whispering doubts.Was Cold really someone to care about limits?He didn't even care about being killed by the Princess that much!

Paranoid took a step forward,and Cold didn't react. But he took another step forward,almost closing the distance between them,and then Cold asked, "What are you doing?"in that sharp yet soft voice of his,turning his head to look away from him.

But why ask?Why not see what Paranoid would do?Why was Cold-holding back,in a way?

Paranoid sighed in frustration,and that was when he noticed Cold's breath,thanks to the frost.He would've thought that Cold would be taking long, relaxed breaths,just waiting for the time to move again.But his breaths were coming out in quick, short bursts,as if he was trying to get to heart under control.But why would-oh.

That was when he realised-Cold wasn't bored and just waiting for something interesting to happen.He was overwhelmed,a feeling Paranoid was quite familiar with.

He once thought that Cold would love all these new things he got to explore-but perhaps he was wrong, and he wasn't as numb as he'd like to be anymore.

But the realisation must have shown on Paranoid's face,because Cold furrowed his brows,and without taking his gaze away from him,slammed his elbow into the tree behind him,causing an owl to cry out and fly away,and for Paranoid to yell out.

"Fucking hell!"he exclaimed,hands coming up to clutch at the feathers near his head,jumping back a good ten feet from Cold,who's smugness Paranoid could feel.

His body shook,and he placed his hands over his pounding heart,softly muttering to himself,"Heart, lungs,liver,nerves,"over and over again until he got his body under control and he no longer felt in danger.

At least his chant,despite everything else,seemed to be normal.

When he came to,Cold was giving him a curious look,and ignored Paranoid's glare as he said,"Tell me how you do that."

Paranoid sighed,but opened his mouth to explain it, a habit from teaching Hero,until an idea popped into his head.

Opportunist got Contrarian on board by poking at his ego,to make him want to be with them.Maybe Paranoid can do the same here.

So he looked Cold in his dark,unreadable eyes and said,"No."

For a brief moment,a look of genuine surprise came over Cold's features,before falling back into his usual blank mask.

"No?"Cold repeated,intrigue in his tone now."No," Paranoid said,crossing his arms and looking away, in the hopes that Cold didn't see the anxiety in his eyes."I don't think I feel like it."Then he shrugged, feigning indifference."You probably wouldn't get it anyways."

He held that position for a few seconds,until he felt footsteps approach him,and he took a deep breath, willing his worries to go away,and he turned just as Cold walked up to him.

He unfortunately towered over Paranoid.It was eerily quiet as they stared each other down, Paranoid having to crane his neck back to even properly look at him-so close that their chest feathers were touching

They held each other's gazes,and Cold didn't seem to blink,an intensity in his stare that had Paranoid's knees wobbling,but he held firm.

This should've been the moment that Paranoid turned around and left him wanting more,like with Contrarian.The longer he stayed there though,the quicker Cold would call his bluff,or give up entirely.

But at this proximity,Paranoid could clearly see the slight tremor in the other's body,the clouded, almost unfocused look in his eyes.Cold hid it well, but Paranoid knew when someone was overstimulated,from his own experiences and with helping Hero through his own struggles.

He couldn't look away,pretend to not care.He did care,even if Cold acted like he didn't,and he wouldn't feel right leaving him all alone in these woods.The thought made his stomach turn.

Cold may act numb,but a body doesn't lie.

"You're not as untouchable as you think you are," Paranoid said,clenching his fists tight to keep him on the spot.Cold merely leaned closer,and asked in a teasing manner,"What are you going to do about it?"

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds-until Paranoid sighed.

"Sit down,"he instructed,lowering himself to the ground.Cold looked at him for a second or two,then shrugged and sat down across from him.

"Give me your hand,"he softly ordered,holding his own hand out expectedly,palm facing up.Cold didn't tear his eyes away from Paranoid,yet still gently placed his hand in his.

"Are you teaching me your chant?"

"No."Paranoid closed his fingers around Cold's hands,immediately noticing how thin and bony they were,and he felt how they shook slightly in his grip.He was also freezing,but he figured that that was normal for the other bird.

"Close your eyes,"he said,and he waited until Cold obliged,before doing the same himself.For once, Paranoid actually felt sure of what he was doing as he said,"Take a deep breath in,hold it for four seconds,then breathe out for five seconds."He did it as well,and was pleasantly surprised to hear Cold copy him.

He rubbed a thumb over Cold's knuckles and whispered,"Now do it again."They breathed in sync, letting nothing but the sounds of the forest consume them,and Paranoid,even though this was for Cold,felt his own muscles relax and his wings lower to the ground.A part of him wanted to stay in this little bubble of peace forever.

But still,at some point,Cold's hand stopped shaking,and Paranoid whispered,"Open your eyes."

What he saw,was still Cold's blank face,but there was now a lightness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.He gave the other a small smile and said,"One day,I'll show you the chant,but right now you needed something else."

Cold said nothing,and Paranoid was about to let go, but before he could,Cold suddenly yanked him forward,and Paranoid yelped as their faces were now inches away from each other,and he couldn't bring himself to look away from Cold's intense stare.

Paranoid didn't dare speak-and then he felt a gentle squeeze from Cold.

A thank you.

Paranoid was too stunned to speak,as Cold let go of his hand and leaned back,content to sit there in silence.

However,Paranoid had too many strong emotions to speak right now.He thought that he was worthless in this new form now,no longer able to perform the way he used to,no longer able to protect the way he used to.But he was wrong.

He may be in an entirely new and unpredictable situation,and dealing with things that he never had to before,but he was still him.Just because he couldn't do certain things,doesn't mean that he can't do other things that are extremely valuable to his flock.The skills he has still matter,now more than ever.

A warmth spread through him at the realisation,and a soft smile was beginning to grow on his face when-

"Look out!"

Suddenly,a dark figure burst through the foliage, and Paranoid yelled out in fright,but still scrambled to his feet,with Cold in tow-although not as frantically.

The figure ran on all fours,running in circles around the area,until it stopped and pressed its back against a tree,and then Paranoid realised that it was Hunted.

His whole body was shaking violently,claws digging into the bark of the tree as his eyes darted around, never lingering on one place for too long,with his feathers sticking out in all directions.

Paranoid looked back to where he had emerged from,to find Contrarian had pushed Oppy to the ground,presumably to avoid Hunted,and a Stubborn looming above them just brimming with energy and aggression.

Stubborn looked to be as tall as Cold was,but where Cold was skinny,Stubborn was bulky,with sharp claws just itching to fight something.He was twisting his head around madly,a feral grin on his face as he said,"Where is he?!Where is that little pipsqueak?!"

"What is going on here?"Paranoid demanded,and Stubborn's attention immediately shifted to him, but his face twisted in disappointment."I'm looking for that little rat!Have you seen him?"

Paranoid knew he was talking about Hunted,but he didn't dare look over and give away his place in the shadows,the moon high in the air at this point.

"Why?Has something happened?"

"Yeah,and it's the fact that we haven't fought yet!"

"You want to fight Hunted?"Oppy asked in confusion,being pulled to his feet by an equally confused Contrarian.

Stubborn just gave them all a hungry grin full of teeth."Yeah!Now that I've got this body all to myself,I can really challenge it,and since the Princesses are gone and I haven't seen Hero boy around,that pipsqueak is the only worthy opponent left!"

"Did he want to fight you?"Oppy asked,and Stubborn sighed sharply."No!All he cared about was finding you lot!He wouldn't fight me at all!"

Contrarian snorted."So you decided to just chase him around?Him?Hunted?"

"Well what other choice did I have?"

"Leave him alone,maybe!"Paranoid snapped,and Stubborn just glared at him."Why?What else is there to do other than to fight to see what we can take?"

"So you just want to punch things again?How unoriginal,"Cold commented with a roll of his eyes, and Stubborn let out a snarl at him."Well I'm sure as hell not gonna sit around and do nothing with this freedom,am I?"Before Paranoid could speak,he waved them all away."Whatever.I'm off to find the little runt.Don't bother me until I've fought and beaten him."With that,Stubborn stomped away.

Everyone was too shocked to speak,but then Paranoid heard a small sound coming from Hunted, and when he brought his attention back to him, dread filled his chest and made him rush over to him,as he realized Hunted was having a panic attack.

"Hunted,"he softly called,kneeling in front of him, but Hunted wouldn't respond,his eyes staring into nothing as his breathing came out in short,painful looking bursts.

There was no way he could calm him down like he had with Cold.But there was one thing he could do.

Paranoid took a deep breath in,placing one of his hands over Hunted's rapidly beating heart,and directing Hunted's hand over Paranoid's own,and with that,everything else fell to black.

"Heart.Lungs.Liver.Nerves."

His head tipped back,and there was only the feeling of blood rushing and a heart full of fear,but not of his own.Hunted's fear was like the whipping of wind,crashing and flinging about everywhere, twisting and turning,but with nowhere to go.

"Heart.Lungs.Liver.Nerves."His voice was firm yet calm as he spoke,willing the fear to leave Hunted,to see that he was safe,his flock was here and they were going to protect each other now.

It felt like hours had passed,but with one last whisper of his chant,and a promise that the danger had passed,Paranoid felt Hunted calm down.

He sighed in relief,letting their hands fall to their laps.It felt good-in a weird way-to do his chant again,despite the tense predicaments that it's needed for.

He slowly lowered his head to face Hunted,to find him staring at Paranoid with an animalistic intensity,but he knew he wasn't in danger.

Especially when Hunted gently cupped his face,and pressed their foreheads together.

[prettyinpwn]

How Gravity Falls Could Have Been Better + Poor Ford and Wendy (GF Writing Analysis Pt. 2)

GF Writing Analysis Series: Pt. 1 - Ford Pines: A Masterclass in Writing a Good Flawed Character Praise the Axolotl, I feel horrible just writing that title. But let me preface this post with three statements:

I've been in this fandom since the first episode aired. I participated in this fandom while it was airing, and I will always cherish this fandom, those memories, and Gravity Falls itself even when I'm a crusty old lady in a rocking chair someday.

Gravity Falls is still my favorite show of all time, even as someone now nearing thirty years old. Nothing's ever topped it since in my mind, and I don't think anything ever will for me.

Writing and making a show is hard. It's easy for me to sit here and smash my little lady hands on a keyboard and criticize the Gravity Falls writing team's decisions. I'm sure if I'd been on that team, I'd have done a lot worse under that burnout and pressure, and I doubt I'll ever write anything anywhere near that critically acclaimed or beloved.

But... every time I've watched Gravity Falls from beginning to end, I've always felt that there was something off. And in recent rewatches, after I'd studied creative writing in college as a part of my minor, plus just having studied and done a lot of writing in my free time for years... I found out finally what it was:

The flaw, in my opinion, is the pacing. Gravity Falls is - and I mean this in the most respectful way to the writers, and I'm saying this as someone who will praise this show to my grave - poorly paced overall.

So what do I mean by that? Each contained episode is tightly written and nearly flawless in the pacing, but the overarching plot? I'll describe it like this: Picture a rollercoaster starting on a very, very slow incline. The scenery on the way up is gorgeous and entertaining to look at, but damn, you want to get to that peak that was teased in the advertisement of the ride. That first tease is what keeps you going on the slow incline. You know you're going to get there, but...

Okay, we're focused on getting accustomed to the seat, the people around us, how this rollercoaster feels, but... you check your watch. Are we there yet? What about that peak that was advertised? No, it's still a glacial incline. You inch upwards. It's godawful slow. You wait - and for those of us who watched when it aired during the hiatuses (which were more Disney's fault than the core team's, to my understanding) - it takes months to years.

Jesus Christ, you think. What about that tease? I want to know what's at that peak! Yes, I get tension and slow buildup, but this is taking FOREVER, and there have been no glimpses of the peak for eons. And then... suddenly, it gets more intriguing. There's a little bump. And another. And finally... there's another hint of the peak that you saw teased all the way back in the Stone Age.

Now, the ride consistently offers you little fun hills after that long, slow first incline. But seconds later BOOM! You skyrocket to that peak so fast your facial skin is flapping behind you. WOO! This is a blast! But holy hell, this is going a little fast compared to what it was like before. The last third of this ride must be MINDBLOWING, with lots of loops and spins and turns and even greater thrills, right?

And then the ride just drops almost face first to a plateau again. There are no more bumps, really. No loops. No twists. Just an almost straight, logical line back to Earth. Half the ride was pretty and made you laugh a lot despite how long it took, but the other half of the ride went so fast in comparison that it was just a blur. You're at the finish line now. Yes, it concluded like it was supposed to, but... is that it?

Rollercoaster metaphor over with, that's the pacing of Gravity Falls. For a more detailed visual example:

(Note - each episode is listed by their overall number. For example, 1 is Tourist Trapped, the peak at 31 is Not What He Seems, and the finale Weirdmageddon episodes are 38-40. Also, this is a rough, subjective view of the pacing tension, but generally... episodes that hinted or contributed to the overarching plot and tension earned higher points, and ones that added almost nothing besides comedy and character development that didn't necessarily add to the overarching plot were lower. The Weirdmageddon episodes are at a plateau since they - as finale episodes - serve to create as much tension as they do resolving it.)

Now, there are no hard and fast rules in writing, and every writer plots differently, but generally, this is the kind of pacing tension that's considered "good" (and that most common outlining techniques follow, just in different forms):

(Credit - please check out this page for a full explanation of each act.)

Generally, the trend is slow buildup. There's no plateau for eons, BOOM, then faceplant, like Gravity Falls. So that gets us to my main thesis of this post, building on what I bolded before:

Gravity Falls was too short because it's a three act story squished into a two act structure; the first season is paced like they were expecting three seasons - a season for each story act - and the second season is paced like they had to quickly fit the last two acts into one.

Why do I say this? Because there's a common writing plot point called the Midpoint / Plot Twist. So for those unfamiliar with writing techniques, let's explore what a Midpoint is:

"The Midpoint occurs at the 50% mark, halfway through the Second Act and (obviously) halfway through the book itself. Although many writers neglect the Midpoint in comparison to more noted moments such as the First Plot Point or Climax, the Midpoint is arguably the most significant beat within the story. It is what director Sam Peckinpah called the “centerpiece” of the entire story. Everything hangs upon it. In many ways, it is the moment that decides the ultimate fate of the story." "The Midpoint will feature at least one, possibly more, momentous revelations. Within the primary character arc and thematic exploration, the protagonist will encounter a Moment of Truth that forever changes his or her view of the story’s central philosophy. This revelation, perhaps in partnership with a further external revelation about the nature of the conflict itself, will forever evolve how the protagonist approaches the conflict—on both a personal and practical level. It signals a thematic shift from Lie to Truth (or vice versa) and an external shift from ineffective “reaction” to increasingly effective “action.” (Credit).

"But PrettyinPwn!", I hear you protest. "Gideon Rises is the episode smack dab halfway through the story and seasons! And that has a big reveal. And we learn a truth about Stan."

Yes, my sweet friends. Gideon Rises - and the reveal of what Stan's hiding in the basement - is a revelation, but the way the first season is paced, in my opinion it's what writers refer to as the First Act climax or Break Into Two. The Break Into Two is:

"Main character makes a choice and to go on the journey, and our adventure begins. We leave the “Thesis” world and enter the upside-down “Anti-thesis” world of Act Two."

(Credit).

Traditionally, this Break Into Two is literally stepping into a new world. Harry Potter getting to Hogwarts. Katniss Everdeen getting to the Capitol. Yadda yadda. But in Gravity Falls, it's more subtle:

We go from the "ordinary" world of Gravity Falls in Season 1 / Act 1 (which is anything but ordinary, but you get the point) where things are bizarre but lighthearted, to the "new" world of Gravity Falls in Season 2A / Act 2 where things are bizarre and definitely not lighthearted anymore. We've started to see the dark underbelly of this strange place and family, the seriousness ramps up, and... lo and behold... a B STORY pops up right at this point in full force, just like B Stories typically do right during or after the Break Into Two point. And that B Story? Is Stan's work on the portal and his search to find Ford, which was teased in the hook, all the way back at Tourist Trapped.

So no, Gideon Rises is not the real story Midpoint. The real story Midpoint is this nerd:

Let's look at those two plotline graphs again; Gravity Falls' and the typical one you see with three act structures:

Yes. Ford's reveal / Not What He Seems should have been smack dab near halfway through the series. But it's not. It marks the 75% point instead. Technically, if we follow the idea that the Midpoint should be roughly around 50% through the story, Not What He Seems should have taken place near where Gideon Rises is in the episode roster, and Gideon Rises should have been halfway through Season 1 (roughly near Fight Fighters).

So what caused this? Oh boy, I'm getting into speculation territory, and I know Hirsch has said it was meant to be this way, but based on the pacing flaws, here's my theory:

Hirsch and team wrote Gravity Falls Season 1 assuming there'd be three seasons; a season for each act of the story. They burned out, so compacted it down to two seasons, and fit all of Act 2 and 3 of the story into Season 2. That's why, at the time the episodes aired, Season 2 was referred to in two halves: Season 2A and Season 2B. Translation? Season 2A is Act 2 and what was supposed to be Season 2 but condensed, Season 2B is Act 3 of the story and what was supposed to be Season 3 but condensed.

TL;DR: In Gravity Falls, Act 1 = 50% of the story, Act 2 = 25% of the story, Act 3 = 25% of the story. AKA poor pacing. The equivalent in, say, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, would be if Harry spent 50% of the story at the Dursley's before getting to Hogwarts.

If Gravity Falls had had three seasons total, the slow buildup in Season 1 would be totally justified, as the first act of most stories takes its time to establish the characters and world. But we instead go from slow plateau to BOOM to faceplant, instead of a slow ride up to the top that consistently raises tension with a few peaks here and there, then a fun, bumpy ride of resolving the tension on the way down.

That's why Season 1 has a little hint of the overarching plot in Tourist Trapped with the Stan vending machine tease at the end of the episode - that's known in writer's circles as the "hook" or promise of the premise - and then literally almost nothing until the end.

I will reiterate: Season 1 is written like the writers thought they had enough time to pace Act 2 and 3 out over the same amount of episodes for each Act.

All this, combined with the fact that Season 2 has some very out of place episodes concerning the tension (*cough* Roadside Attraction *cough*, and no, I don't care that it was retconned later to have made sense), well... yeah.

But this didn't just affect the pacing. It also affected the characters' writing. Wendy barely got developed, Stan and Ford's backstory AKA the B plot got squished into two episodes, the government agents as an antagonist were "defeated" too soon to try to quick switch over to Bill Cipher for Season 2B / Act 3, and the most oof-worthy part? Ford got the short end of the writing stick.

I mentioned in another post that I think Ford is a fantastically written character as a concept, but unlike Stan, Dipper, and Mabel, his good writing relies more on subtext, rushed plotlines, and external materials (Journal 3, mainly). Thematically, as the show focuses on twins, parallelisms, juxtapositions, Ford should have had just as much "let's get to know this character!" focus and time to develop to the viewer as Stan did. But no, he got... what, roughly 4-5 episodes, some of them where his story was only the B plot? Literally, let's count:

Episodes with Stan plotlines: Tourist Trapped, Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel, The Inconveniencing, Dipper vs. Manliness, Irrational Treasure, Boss Mabel, Bottomless Pit, Land Before Swine, Dreamscaperers, Gideon Rises, Scaryoke, Soos and the Real Girl, Little Gift Shop of Horrors, The Love God, Not What He Seems, A Tale of Two Stans, DD&MD, The Stanchurian Candidate, Roadside Attraction, Weirdmageddon 1+3.

Episodes with Ford plotlines: A Tale of Two Stans, DD&MD, The Last Mabelcorn, Dipper and Mabel vs The Future, Weirdmageddon 1+3.

Ford feels like an afterthought. Dipper, Mabel, and Stan get 100% of the story to develop, and Ford gets less than 25%. Also factor in how Ford is the peak the viewer is waiting for, the whole mystery that keeps viewers on their toes for most of the story... and he gets ~5 episodes, and none of those are 100% focused on him.

It's like hosting a multiple course meal promising the main course - the steak - is gonna blow your mind. And then you get it 75% of the way through the meal and it's like... dime sized. It's a damn good little nerd steak, but it's so small, and we ate like three hundred Dipper and Wendy crush and Mabel crush and really well written and funny but effectively filler episode salads on the way here, including ones that weren't even canon (Bottomless Pit and Little Gift Shop of Horrors), interspersed with the occasional hint of steak with episodes like Dreamscaperers. Which would have been fine had there been an equal and increasing amount of steak, but no. To ask an age old question... WHERE'S THE BEEF?

A summary of Ford:

Worse yet, let's compare his introduction to Stan's introduction.

Stan (in Tourist Trapped): "Heya, I'm a grumpy old conman runnin' a tourist trap, and all I care about is money, but... hey, you kids want something from the Gift Shop?"

Ford (in A Tale of Two Stans): "Greetings, I just returned from sci-fi sideburn land, I'm just going to punch a character - my brother - beloved by the audience in the face after he did something very nice for me, tell my long backstory that kind of makes me look like a douche in multiple ways, plot convenience the antagonist away, then tell said beloved by the audience character / brother to get off my lawn."

No wonder why - after ATOTS aired - lots of people thought Ford was a Class A, prime US Grade, grass fed dick. And to this day, more people seem to love Stan over Ford in the fandom. We get context for his decisions later in... drumroll please... Journal 3. And subtext. Not even an episode.

We THEN understand that Ford punched Stan because of the thirty years of hell he went through, that he was just about to defeat Bill Cipher when Stan activated the portal therefore interrupting him, and Ford was upset that the Shack had made a mockery of his paranormal studies plus Stan had literally stolen his identity, completely turned his house around, and made him look like a conman... so we then have an 'OH!' moment and realize, "Hey, wait a minute, this guy has reasons for what he did. Maybe he was more justified than we thought, or at least as justified as Stan was.".

But not in the show. In a book released after. He is actually equally as well-written as Stan is, in concept. He's a great protagonist with realistic flaws and reasons. But he got a sad little salad in the writing department compared to Stan, Mabel, and Dipper's whole ten course caloric explosion buffet.

So what would have fixed this? Just like the overarching plot's pacing... another season. Season 1 + the first half of Season 2 could have been solving the mystery of Stan, and the second half of Season 2 and Season 3 could have been solving the mystery of Ford.

And that, my friends, is why Gravity Falls is too short.

~

Where does this leave us? Well, er... my next thought is... how would I have written Gravity Falls using the typical pacing progress?

Well, for starters, let's decide this: how many seasons do we want overall? The two options are...

A. Two seasons like it is now, but shorten each story Act.

B. Three seasons, each season is one Act of the story.

If Gravity Falls were just two seasons long in this hypothetical outline, this is what I'd do:

Take out the Dipper/Wendy love subplot. I'm sorry, we all knew while we were watching it that it would go nowhere. I remember watching it as a teen girl as the show aired and being so damn bored with it as a subplot. Especially because... as it stands, most of Wendy's purpose is as Dipper's crush. She never got her own episode.

Put Gideon Rises as Episode 10 instead of Fight Fighters. Make Not What He Seems as the Season 1 finale.

Take out a lot of the "filler" episodes in Season 1. I hate to say this, because I love a lot of the Season 1 episodes. But to pace it better, I'd say order the episodes in Season 1 like this: Tourist Trapped The Legend of the Gobblewonker The Hand That Rocks the Mabel The Time Traveler's Pig Little Dipper Boss Mabel Carpet Diem Land Before Swine Dreamscaperers Gideon Rises Scary-oke Into the Bunker The Golf War Soos and the Real Girl Sock Opera (Any of the "filler" episodes from Season 1 or 2 here) Blendin's Game Society of the Blind Eye Northwest Mansion Mystery Not What He Seems

And as for season 2:

A Tale of Two Stans Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons Then... Here we have a big gap, because we put many Season 2 episodes in Season 1. We squished all that plot into Season 1, so what do we fill episodes 3-17 of Season 2 with? I'll tell you what: More Wendy and more Ford. In this version of the outline, Dipper and Mabel are present characters in every episode, with a special focus on Stan and Soos to a smaller extent in Season 1. So to make it even, I'd make this version of Season 2 have a big focus on Ford and then Wendy to a smaller extent, mirroring how Stan and Soos are focused on in Season 1. And just like the antagonist of Season 1 - Gideon - with a little bit of the government agents, have this season have a few more episodes with the government agents and then Bill as the big final bad.

This gap here gives us ~14 episodes to develop these characters. I also think The Last Mabelcorn should be in here somewhere, so make that 13. If we parallel Season 1, then roughly... Bill should get two episodes as a main antagonist like Gideon did before his finale in Gideon Rises. Wendy should get two episodes as a deuteragonist like Soos did in Season 1.

The Bill episodes could hint more at his backstory like Journal 3 did, have him mess with Ford more and tease at Ford's "sing to me O Muse" backstory with him (because more Ford parallels with Odysseus are always welcome).

The Wendy episodes could delve into the same issues Soos' episodes did: Wendy Episode #1: Her dating issues, but instead of finding someone like Soos did, she's happily single at the end. I vote a plot where Wendy is ready to date again after the Robbie fiasco, Mabel tries to set her up with someone new, tied to a B plot with Ford where Mabel digs into his dating life, finds little to none, and then both Ford and Wendy realize at the end that it's okay to be single and not ashamed of it in a romance obsessed society (also Ford on the ace spectrum ftw, personal headcanon though). Better yet, have it have a kid friendly explanation that some people love differently; actually show that Wendy is Bisexual and Ford is - I'd argue - Ace (or straight or gay but just super bad at relationships because of pouring himself into his work and his other flaws, fear of sharing his baggage with others, etc). Not that Disney would have allowed LGBT+ at that time, because, well... Disney.

This would simultaneously make Wendy A. NOT just a crush figure tied to romance, as female characters often get relegated to, and B. help Ford parallel some insecurities about how he compares himself to Stan, just like Stan compares himself to Ford in the episodes that actually aired, especially if we keep The Stanchurian Candidate as one of the episodes but involve Ford more in it. Have Mabel pull a Jane Austen's Emma and learn to stop being a busybody matchmaker. This idea - in my opinion - is way cooler and less ethically ambiguous than The Love God.

Wendy Episode #2: Her family issues, AKA her dead mother. Make it real tearjerky with a B plot tie to how Stan or Ford never got to see their parents again after the portal accident and before their parents died, and parallel it with Wendy regretting something regarding her mother before she died. This would give us a chance to explore more about Wendy as a character, and both Filbrick / Caryn (AKA Stan and Ford's parents) as characters, as well. I would also lean more towards having her bond with Ford over Stan in this episode. Or, alternatively, you could tie this to Dipper and Mabel and their parents. Because you can't tell me that their parents did NOT have questions about what was going on after Mabel sent that letter home about her "two grunkles".

But why so many Ford with Wendy plots? Because Soos is already the Shack employee tied a lot to Stan, so to parallel, you could have Wendy bond more with Ford. At first glance, this seems like it'd be an odd duo, but Wendy probably could relate to Ford's experiences of feeling like the responsible one in the family, hiding how much they care about things under a more calm facade, the fact that Wendy's dad built the Shack for Ford, maybe add Wendy having an underlying interest in science or the paranormal that she deadens down to fit in that Ford finds out about and tries to encourage her to not hide anymore to tie in with his theme of "it's okay to be weird". You could do a million things with Ford and Wendy subplots.

So that leaves us with a total of nine other episodes to devote to Ford here in this season space. I mean, picture it... in my original counts of how many episodes Stan vs. Ford got in the real version of the show that aired, Stan had around 23 episodes that featured him.

In this version of the outline, Stan would get 14-15 episodes featuring him. Ford would get 14 episodes featuring him. CHEF'S KISS; EQUAL TREATMENT BY THE WRITING. But what would these episodes be about?

A. More bonding and arc between Dipper and Ford. Dipper would go from "notice me Ford senpai / hyperventilating" to "holy crap the Author is as awesome as I thought he'd be!" to "wait a minute, this guy's got some flaws" to "maybe this isn't who I want to become?" to make Dipper's rejection of the apprenticeship feel more natural and take the blame heat off of Mabel (as the fandom's been eager to place).

If Dipper's reasoning for rejecting the apprenticeship was not just "Mabel needs me" but a combination of "Mabel needs me, Stan needs Ford more than I do, Mabel was right and I don't need the Journals / the Author / Ford to be a hero, and I don't want to become Ford", it'd make a lot more sense. Because thematically, the plot of Gravity Falls resolves BECAUSE Dipper and Mabel don't become Ford and Stan; they avoid the mistakes they made, and in doing so, heal the literal and metaphorical rift. And it also makes more sense for Dipper's character arc, which was always about self-confidence.

That, and I think it'd have been great for Dipper to have had a trust - distrust - trust again arc with Ford like he did with Stan. "Oh, Ford's so cool" to "Ford lied to me about Bill!" to "Ford is flawed, but he's still the great uncle I love now". Put a Dark Night of the Soul in there, where Dipper literally 'Trusts No One!'. Not even Ford. Have him teeter on the precipice of going down Ford's dark path, but Mabel saves him from fully falling into it. And have Ford have a Dark Night of the Soul, where now even Dipper doesn't trust or like him, and so Ford feels totally outcasted by his family like Stan felt years ago.

B. Slower plot twist revelations about Ford's past with Bill Cipher. Start him out reluctant to talk about it, especially in front of Dipper, who views him as a hero that Ford so desperately wants to be. Explore some of his trauma, what his choices have cost him, etc. Hell, I'm pretty sure Ford's got some form of PTSD, so throw a plotline in there about Ford isolating a lot because of it. Of course, since kids are a primary audience of the show, you can't get too dark, but you can't tell me Ford didn't experience some messed up stuff on the other side of the portal.

C. Goddamn, take some of Ford's multiverse explorations from Journal 3 and make them actual episodes. What a wasted opportunity in the show. And it better have Jheselbraum in it, or I riot.

D. More Ford bonding with Mabel. Please, for the love of God, I know Dipper and Ford are nerdtopia buddies, but Ford and Mabel would get along so well. They're both weirdos at heart, sweater twins, the older twins, and love the odd and the artistic. Make a B plot with Stan and Dipper bonding, maybe even after Dipper's loss of respect for Ford, and have Dipper "side" with Stan while Mabel starts to "side" with Ford more, almost getting lost in Stan and Ford's rift themselves. Because goddammit, we're riding this juxtaposition and parallelism and thematic train into the Sun!

E. GIVE FORD MORE MOMENTS TO LOOK LIKE A CARING, SWEET GRUNKLE. Stan got a truckload of chances to shine and for the twins to bond with him. Can... can Ford have the same thing? Please? Here, elevator pitch: Ford being forced to put science away to watch the twins for a day because Stan's busy, he reluctantly agrees, and by the end he's just as much of a softie for them as Stan is. Or have Dipper and Mabel get in trouble, Stan and Ford have to work together to save them; have them sabotage each other, trying to look like the better Grunkle, but then pulling their heads out of their asses and working together reluctantly and realizing they actually have fun on adventures like they used to (which would foreshadow their choice to go on Stan-O-War II adventures later).

F. By God, I don't care if Gideon's already in jail by this point, plot-wise. This boy spent episodes chasing the Author's journals. I need to see the look on his face when he realizes the Author is his arch-nemeses' twin brother / great uncle. Please. Have him start a rivalry with Ford that goes as horribly as you'd expect because Ford would use 30 years of multiverse experience to punt this kid into the next dimension for multiple reasons, one of them being having summoned Bill Cipher, another being having used his journal for nefarious purposes.

G. Don't make the government agents go away so easily. Foreshadow Stan's return of memory in Weirdmageddon 3 with the agents remembering what happened before the memory gun wipe in Not What He Seems, not only to utilize them better as antagonists, but to increase the stakes, and also to make Stan's memories returning later seem more plausible. Have Ford play a part in getting rid of them as a threat.

Or have them switch from antagonists to allies once they realize Bill Cipher is the real threat, but have them fail to neutralize Bill to make him seem that much more insurmountable and the Pines' defeat of him that much more of a feat. To wrap up them as an obstacle, just have them thank the Pines at the end and then have them put forth the whole "Never Mind All That" act and keep the stories of the weirdness contained to Gravity Falls. Have them try to lock Stan and Ford up still, though, but realize that they're gone on the Stan-O-War II trip (which, if that story's ever made into a show, they could serve as continued antagonists chasing after the Stans).

H. More Pacifica. Make her redemption more believable. Give her another subplot in Season 2, maybe following the plotline she had in the Lost Legends comic side story with Dipper. In fact, give her a B plot episode storyline with Ford; have them bond over having had to be perfect golden children with a parent(s) that care way too much about money, and it gives Dipper and Mabel more context and understanding about Ford's struggles. There. It writes itself.

I. More McGucket. I want to see Ford angst more about what happened between them. Then, finally, after all these episodes with The Last Mabelcorn somewhere amongst them... Dipper and Mabel vs. The Future Weirdmageddon 1 Weirdmageddon 2 Weirdmageddon 3

And ta-da! You'd have a version of Gravity Falls with two seasons with more fair attention to Wendy and Ford, more evenly paced tension and plot twists, and an antagonist cycle that goes from town enemy to world enemy to multidimensional enemy. ~

As for a three season version of this outline, keep Season 1 completely as is, make Not What He Seems episode 10 of Season 2, and... this is a bold suggestion, but turn the Season 2 finale into Dipper and Mabel vs The Future and make the Weirdmageddon episodes into a whole season. Make the failure to stop the rift really hurt, and use the whole of Season 3 to have the Pines figure out how to stop the end of the world. Use some of it to rebuild the portal, explore some of the Multiverse to find a solution, have them try to find Jheselbraum to help discover more about Bill and his weaknesses and his previous attempts on Earth to break reality (like Modoc's story in Journal 3, in fact, have an episode where they time travel back to Modoc which would give him inspiration to have drawn the prophecy wheel on the cave wall that Ford found hundreds of years later), gather the whole gang and build the Shacktron, have it fail and have to use the prophecy wheel... But wait, it fails, too, and Bill scatters everyone involved across the Multiverse instead of making them into banners - while also destroying the portal - to buy himself some time to get Ford to give up the solution to breaking free from Gravity Falls. Explore the Multiverse more to gather everyone again, use each episode to devote yet more time to developing each character, parallel Ford's journey in the Multiverse for 30 years. Maybe even have a bit of a subplot where Ford breaks from Bill and tries to rebuild the portal to get everyone back, paralleling Stan's struggle to get him back for 30 years.

Learn more about who Ford was those thirty years he was gone. Use the Multiverse episodes to make Stan sympathize more with what Ford went through for thirty years. Have Jheselbraum reference the whole "you have the face of the one who will destroy Bill" to Stan instead of Ford like she did in the past, and have Stan be confused at first, thinking Ford will be the hero again. Dark Night of the Soul up in this season, man, and make the prophecy wheel fail again, and Stan realize yep, time to brain zap, Jheselbraum was right, but HE'S the one that has to stop Bill, not Ford. And THEN try Stan's conman trick to trap Bill in his mind.

And that's how I'd rewrite Gravity Falls as three seasons.

~

I'll say this: after all that criticism I just laid out, you might think I hate Gravity Falls as it is now. No. I love this show. It won't leave my brainspace and lives there rent-free, like Bill does in Stan's mind. And I will say, I understand 100% why it was written the way it was. They seemed to have had a plan in Season 1, switched gears between seasons, and tried to wrap up two seasons of plot in one season for Season 2.

And they did it with little to no flaws in terms of the overarching plot. They told the story they wanted to. They pulled a Stan and took some shortcuts, but had good intentions and got the job done. And the show is still like... an A- to solid A grade show even with these flaws.

But it could have been nearly flawless and A++ had they either planned for two seasons from the start, or powered through the burnout to make three whole seasons (which is easy for me to say, as someone that didn't have to live through what must have been hair graying levels of stress).

All in all, I'm curious to hear others' thoughts on my critique, or if anyone would like to add more about what they'd put in this hypothetical Season 2 or 3. Or if you'd prefer the two seasons still as they are, or as I hypothetically rewrote them, or as the three seasons idea I explained above. Or if you think I'm just crazy, and that Gravity Falls is perfect as is.

[aebeism]

it's time to go — bada lee

synopsis : stress takes over your brain, to the point where you wander through a world you can’t remember much about. while your memories are gone, bada, love and sadness are the only things you carry with you for a while — as well as your limitations in having and offering each.

wc : 2.1k

warnings : angst, ex!bada, reader suffers from temporary memory loss, homophobia, clichés, mention of reader as y/n, lowercase intended. inspired by paris, texas by lana del rey.

'how long would it take for you to forget me?' you would ask. 'a lifetime wouldn't be enough' bada would always say, without fail. it's been months since you last saw your ex. or smiled. and you're back in the country, nervous to see her again, when she insists on taking you for a walk, which seems to be going smoothly . . until she gets weirded out by all your questions and the fact you seem genuinely lost at everything.

but, even though you're not together anymore, she cares a lot for you, enough that she doesn't mind retelling bibles and bibles of the endless moments you spent together. that is, until your eyes light up at the map you come across on her phone case.

"we've been to france before, haven't we?" your voice echoes through the place you're in, the moonlight shining through bada's blonde strands as she seems to glow softly, as a whole.

she only seems to be able to whisper, as if that’d keep her feelings suppressed well enough. "we have. paris, with barely anything but a suitcase" she slightly smiles at the memory. "i'd take you there again, if i could."

silence floods the air around you.

"why can't you?" you stare at her face, intensely, waiting for her answer as you clench your hand into a fist.

"you know why" she says, and your heart aches at the familiarity of her look. "because i loved you, so i can't anymore. and you remember i hardly ever change my mind, don't you?"

“i do” you nod, even more confused, eyes stuck on the map that she had let you take from her hand. the tiny map tucked inside her phone case is covered in doodles — lines and hearts mark so many places. "why does spain have a heart?"

"that's where we performed together for the first time" she sounds happy until you question further.

"you still love me, right?" your voice is soft, you don't raise your tone, nor did you try to force the sentence into her head. yet, bada seems like she was struck by a thunder right next to her ears.

it's no surprise that bada was caught off guard, her head tilted from an angle that would make her eyes stare at yours directly. "why ask that?" she says, her voice a bit shaky.

"hm . . you said that in the past. and you still keep this thing, with hearts on both countries."

"ah. yeah" bada shifts her attention back to the paper, her eyes slowly direct themselves to your shaky hands and your shivering body, and it makes her question why you're shaking so much even though what surrounds you is a warm summer breeze. she gives you a look, her eyes taking a peek at your face as she slowly says the next sentence. "for the memories. i don’t know about now. people never really understood our love, y/n. all of my friends could show off their lovers, and some were more loved by people than others, but you always had to be my secret just because we're both women. . and i hated that."

you don't seem to recall that, you can't seem to remember what she's talking about. yet, for some reason, as painful as a heart-wrenching breakup could be . . it still burns all over your chest; the pain seems to spin, and twist your insides, in flames. perhaps, the pain was made from acid and was turned into acid as it burns your whole body. your eyes water for a second, and you frown. your expression shows that you're a bit too lost by your own emotions.

"the more they knew, the worse it got. we've been over this, y/n, don't cry" bada's words seems to pierce your heart, they make your stomach churn as you stare intensely down to the ground beneath you.

the new sentence only adds to your confusion, and although you understand every single word, you don't even know why you're here anymore, or why it hurts so much, why a woman so pretty remains by your side. it feels like your brain is trying to reconnect to reality in the middle of the night but can't catch up on anything.

“this isn’t funny” you mumble, your hands shaking, and your jaw closes up as you furrows your brows. your brain tries to work to its max as you try as hard as you can to figure out what's going on.

"it really isn’t. i proposed to you here, in venice, not long after you joined our team. and we broke up in california, remember?" she shows you the circle around italy and a small dot in the united states. "it was sweet while it lasted, though, wasn't it? our friends would get drunk on any shit they could get their hands on and pass out, and you'd just be talking and dancing with me. my memories of you are really pure, y/n."

her tone is warm, her words are just as lovely, her eyes still sparkle whenever they glance at you. but there's something so heavy behind all of that, that knowing her, you can feel it even though you can't tell what it is.

"but it really was time to let you go" bada says, a deep sigh leaves her mouth as she shifts her gaze up to look at the sky, and you think you can see the corner of her eyes starting to turn red as her eyes sparkle so brightly.

while your mind remains empty, malfunctioning even, you stare and stare as it starts to get a bit too hazy. bada's mind, in another case . . is running through all the flashbacks of the flight you two took together back home, the time when you had to leave as you two were breaking up, the many times she agonized as she wanted to call you but knew she shouldn't, she let herself sink into her own loneliness . . everything burns behind her eyes. and staring at the pain she possessed hurts you just as badly.

if you could remember all the good things she did to you right now, at this moment, you think you wouldn't be able to live with yourself anymore.

. . but, in reality, you really can't live with yourself. because you do remember.

that's why life's been so stressful. that's why suddenly your memory has a gap.

"i hope you can forgive me for that" bada says, her tone ever so softly as she still looks up at the sky. her face lights up a smile, so, so bitterly.

your brain unwires slowly as she speaks and you're met again with that look on her face, one that could make your heart ache and your stomach churn from the pain it feels. bada's watered eyes make your cheeks wet unintentionally as you dodn't realize how a cheeky tear softly rolls down the surface of your skin.

"and i'd rather you didn't ask me about love anymore, if you could" bada speaks up again. this time, she turns her head to look into your eyes, and you feel like she's begging you with how intense her gaze is.

"but our love is so sweet, why wouldn't i?" you say, your hand raises up to wipe the tears that are waiting to sneakily roll down your cheeks once again before you clench your hands into a fist, as an attempt to hold your tears back. "people don't understand it, but does that really even matter if we understand each other?" your voice is yet again so soft, unlike how determined bada sounds like when she asks you to stop asking about your relationship. you don't know why you clenched your hands, or why you cried, you don't even know why you asked bada that question, but you eagerly wait for her answer, like a puppy waiting for a treat.

the bitterness in bada's stomach feels like it's climbing up her throat and staying stuck in the middle of its way, her eyes are burning as they bore into yours, and perhaps the pain she's feeling has taken its toll on you as you can feel your heart drop for a split second. you never really want to know why you're feeling her pain, you just always do.

. . but you're content with feeling that pain, because that's the closest you can get to her heart now.

"didn't you just hear me?" bada says, her voice cracking as her eyes water once again. it's as if she's taking all her will power to hold back the tears in her eyes. it's as if she could breakdown at any moment if she let her guard down.

yet, it seems like everything suddenly goes away; you can't recall why bada is crying, and a confuse look displays on your face.

"not sure i did" you blink, your head tilted as you see the map in your hands once again, a glimpse of a memory brings you back as you quickly say . .

"oh, that's cute. we've been to france before, haven't we?"

“i just told you, y/n” bada's voice is shaking as she stares at you, her brows furrow as she starts to think that this is some kind of joke; a sick joke that you thought of to make her feel embarrassed, to remind her of how sweet you two were, and how she can never achieve what she had always wanted with you.

bada stares intensely into your eyes, she tries to get pass your facade. she wants to rip off that mask, that unfunny joke that you're trying to make. she wants to scream to your face that this isn't funny. yet ,your innocent look and your sweet smile catch her off-guard as you still wait for her answer. you even have a confuse look on your face, as if you don't understand a single word she's saying.

. . as if . . she's the mad one.

"you really don't . . know?" bada asks, worried. "do you even remember what we are?"

you nod, a weak smile on your lips as you sound way happier than you should, even though tears stream down your face just because they're streaming down on bada's face. "girlfriends."

even when bada's panicking slightly, her pretty presence still glows, and it's distracting enough. she rushes to get you in her car and you don't understand a thing, yet you let her do whatever she wants. and that's how your first hanging out in months ends.

while you're in the passenger seat, your eyes scan her whole being. and your chest does flips as you stare at her form.

"why are you so worried?" you ask. "where are we going?"

"we need to get you checked out, y/n."

you go quiet for a moment, not enjoying the concerned look on bada's face, not enjoying something despite not being able to tell what it is. you feel uncomfortable, your head's light as a feather, and the pain is spreading and slowly taking over your whole body on its own will. "ah, maybe. maybe . . everything feels . . fuzzy" you mumble. her hands grip the steering wheel harder as she speeds up. "don't worry, though. it's fine. i'm fine" you reassure bada, a weak smile shows up on your face as you hold your head.

that reminds her of how she died a little inside every time you'd say that, whenever she'd see your suffering. it doesn't help how you'd say that so many times whenever you'd both be upset about how others seemed to hate seeing you together, and the way you're saying it now only reminds her once again that her heart still aches for your words.

it reminds her that she can't put you through anything as heartbreaking again, it doesn't matter if she still cares enough to keep you alive in her memory.

letting you go was the right thing to do, and when she's right, she's right. even when she's wrong.

and she feels at home when she's alone, anyway.

© aebeism 2024