#but his friends safety matters more to him

[wutheringwisteria]

Chapter 2

[ 1 ]

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Curly's sleeping schedule was a mess.

It has been five days since he dropped the bomb, and the Tulpar crew couldn't be any more awkward.

Anya was relatively the same, but became more saddened as the days go by. Swansea was still his gruff self, albeit a lot more harsh towards the intern, Daisuke. Daisuke, on the other hand, kept his smile up.

He still talks to Jimmy, because he's his friend and it was literally impossible not to since he's his co-pilot. But you... no matter how many times he tried to bring himself to do it—he can't.

Those little talks you both guys had in the past now reduced to little to no communication at all. And it was killing him. Sure, he'd only get a simple sentence and a flat tone from you—hell, maybe even a scowl if he's unlucky.

But he didn't mind, not at all! Showing anger or anything makes you human, after all.

His heart feels heavy when he walks past your quarters. Tonight was another sleepless night, and no matter how many tosses snd turns he does, the warm embrace of sleep could not reach him.

So he goes out for a small stroll on the upper deck.

He finds himself in the main lobby. From there, he could see another figure sitting on the long couches, staring up at the fake moonlight of the large screen.

Anya.

Wordlessly, he sits down. Just a few meters away from her.

"You doing okay?" He asked, voice soft.

Her dark gaze looks back at him. After a moment's silence, she speaks up. "Yeah. Can't sleep."

"I know how that is. I just toss and turn, or stare at the ceiling all night." Curly chuckled, but it was brief.

"I actually kinda like the night time window screen," replied Anya. She looks back up. "If you can believe it. So I just come look at it sometimes. If you look really, really close, you can see there's a dead pixel in the upper right corner."

"That so?" Curly blinked. He looks up at the giant screen, squinting his eyes. "Hmmmmmm..."

"Nope. Don't see it."

"In the back of my mind, it's always there."

Curly huffs, leaning back against the couch. "Now I'll go bonkers looking for it. Cheers." His eyes slowly travels back to the screen, a small smile making its way to his face. "...I don't think it ruins the illusion, though. It's peaceful. But maybe I'm just used at looking at the bigger picture."

Anya doesn't tear her eyes away from the screen. "How many days of transport do we have left?"

"Ah, let's see. Off the top of my head... around 237 days. Just under—"

"Eight months." Anya finished the sentence for him. But her voice gets quieter. Curly remains silent as the nurse finally looks back at him. "Hey. Why do you think Pony Express put a lock on the medical room door but not in the sleeping quarters?" She suddenly asked.

"Hmm." Curly thinks. "I suppose for the same reason they put a lock in the cockpit. Safety."

Anya pursed her lips together, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I see."

🫧

"I'm pregnant."

Two words. Two simple words was all that it took for your whole body to freeze, still as stone. You turned around slowly, folding the corporate's letter Curly had nights prior and placing it inside your chest pocket. "...Repeat that?"

Anya visibly tenses up, her hand finding its way to grab her sleeve. "I'm... I'm pregnant—for about a month now." The words felt like bile, waiting to be vomited out. She could feel your stare piercing through her skull, and the slightest part of her wonders if telling you first was a mistake. A grave, and horrible mistake that she just had made.

"For a mo—..." you trailed off, making your disbelief known. For a moment, you just stay still, trying to process what Anya just revealed to you. A lot of questions ran in your mind, but all you could utter was a simple, "Who?" You couldn't picture anyone else besides one person, and by the looks of it, it seems like it wasn't consensual.

Which made you even more angry.

But you kept calm for Anya's sake. To show that you have been working on your anger management. "Anya," you call her name with a voice more leveled this time. "I need you to tell me. Who's the father?" Who is he so that I can kill him?

She hesitates, her dark eyes casted downwards and glistening with unshed tears. You take a step forward and she flinches. Sucking in a breath, you took another step and wrapped your arms around Anya and giving her a much needed hug.

Anya couldn't contain it anymore. She sobbed, burying her face in your chest and letting her tears soak your uniform. All while you try to console her by patting and rubbing circles on her back. The nurse was trembling, it was now clear to you that she had been a victim of sexual assault.

And her abuser roams free on the ship.

"Shh, shh, it's alright, it's okay, I got you..." you whispered, your other hand mindlessly running through her dark locks. You feel every tear that escapes her eyes, every breath she sucked in, and every time her body shudders that's followed along with a sob.

"Just... just tell me the name, and I'll go tell Curly about it," you shifted slightly, pulling away and cupping her face. Anya meets your eyes once more, her lips quivering as she brings a hand up to wipe away her tears.

"It's... it's Jimmy..."

🫧

Daisuke peeks his head into the main lobby. No other people present, that's good. He slowly steps inside and makes his way over to the kitchen.

He had been watching the cake making process since Curly's birthday. If he could just operate it, he would be able to snag one of those sweet, sweet, sweeteners.

"Okay, so I just press this... and then this..." he goes around, pressing some buttons and just completely winging it. Daisuke didn't even take a time of his day to look at the instructions that were literally plastered in front of him.

After a lot more pressing, the food dispenser dinged and Daisuke immediately went over to it. "Haha, it worked!" he cheered. The sweetener was there, in all of its glory. He could practically taste the sugary contents in his tongue.

But before he could even rip the pack open, he was spooked by a voice calling him. "Daisuke,"

The intern whips his head around, almost breaking his neck. He frantically hid the sweetener behind him, forcing a smile. "Oh, hey, Y/N! What's up?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Do you know where Jimmy is?" You asked without a second thought.

"Jimmy?" Daisuke tilts his head, trying to think about where he last saw the co-pilot. "I think he went looking for something down on the lower deck. I don't really remember."

You nodded. "Okay, thanks." You left the main lobby without another word, leaving Daisuke a little dumbfounded.

"Okay, now where was I?" Daisuke turned his attention back to opening the sugar packet, only to jump at another voice calling him.

"Boy," Swansea suddenly appeared, panting heavily and looking like he ran a hundred marathons. "Where is she? Where did Y/N go?"

"Y/N?" Daisuke blinked. "She went to the lower deck, I think. She was asking about Jimmy."

Swansea cursed under his breath. "Damn it," he wasn't in his prime anymore. Running would only exhaust him even further. "Look, kid. Y/N just took the axe without asking. And if I know her well, she might just do something that'll get us all into trouble."

"What do you mean?" asked Daisuke. "I don't think I understand, boss—"

"I mean that she's going to try and axe Jimbo in the face!" Swansea brings up a hand to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. "Be useful for once and help me catch her before things get outta hand!"

Now that set alarms inside Daisuke's head. "O-On it! Oh, I didn't know she was going to kill Jimmy!" He was feeling guilty because he had just endangered his superior's life. He pocketed the sweetener and immediately ran out of the room, with Swansea following behind sluggishly.

Meanwhile...

"Hey, Anya. Have you seen Y/N? I looked everywhere but I can't seem to find her." Curly asked upon entering the medical room, where Anya was stationed at her desk and was reading over some papers.

The nurse puts the papers down and looked up at Curly. "No, I don't think so. Maybe you should ask Swansea—"

A blood curdling scream cuts her off. Anya flinches as Curly whipped his head around at the direction of the sound. "...What the hell was that?"

For a moment, Anya's eyes began to widen. No, you couldn't possibly...?

Curly looked back at Anya with a serious expression. "I'll go check it out. You stay right here, okay?"

He didn't wait for her response as he immediately turned on his heel and sprinted out the medical room.

Anya remains stunned in her place, her mind running with countless thoughts. Now that she thinks about it, Curly seemed unaware of her... situation. It only means one thing, that you didn't tell him. And it also means that... you took matters into your own hands.

"Oh, god..." She stands up in a frantic manner, her body inclined to follow Curly. "Please, please don't be doing what I think you're doing, Y/N..."

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Requested tags: @ninastasia0

[luneytodd]

I’m about to start fist fighting mfs in the mouthwashing fandom because everyone likes to give me shit when I say “Curly should’ve thrown Jimmy in the cryopod when he learned about what he was doing to Anya” BUT NOBODY HAS GIVEN ME A VALID REASON AS TO WHY HE COULDN’T HAVE

“tHeY nEeD a cO-piLoT” THEY HAD AN AUTOPILOT!!! One that seemingly worked pretty well too until SOMEBODY got his hands on it. Also you mean to tell me they had a gun on the ship in case of “unrest among crew members” but absolutely NO backup plan in case something happened to the co pilot?? I find that outrageously hard to believe.

“WhY WoUlD tHeY giVE tHe oNLy sUrviVAL pOd To a RaPiSt?” I’m going to spit in your face. I’ve heard this argument so many times it has actually killed my brain cells. So in case this wasn’t 100% clear for whatever reason my suggestion is that they would do this course of action *before* he crashed the ship when there were still (correct me if I’m wrong with this number cause I don’t remember the exact details) THREE working pods, not one. Ideally, Curly would’ve done this as soon as Anya told him about the abuse but the second best time in my opinion would’ve been when Jimmy went on the whole “kill everyone, leave us as martyrs” rant. I don’t give a single fuck what any of you dense motherfuckers say to me ever if MY FRIEND approached me and threatened not only my life but the lives of every single one of my coworkers I’d charge tackle his ass into the pod myself, or at least bribe Swansea to do it.

“tHeY wOuLdn’T gEt pAiD fOr tHe JoB bEcAuSE OF ThE uNNeCeSSArY pOd UsAgE” First of all, fuck you. Genuinely. Second of all, THEY’RE ALL FIRED!!! NO MATTER WHAT!!! INDUSTRY WENT BYE BYE!!! For all intents and purposes, that paycheck would’ve been the filler between this venture and the next. Would losing that be absolutely devastating for some of the people involved? It’s very possible. I don’t know their individual financial statuses and I’m not gonna stand here and argue “they all would’ve been completely fine without the money”. But you know what’s even more devastating than losing your financial safety net? LOSING YOUR GODDAMN LIVES!!! Also in general if you’re prioritizing your own financial interests over the health and wellbeing of the people around you, you are scum arguing for scummy shit and I reiterate my earlier “Fuck you” with an additional “go to hell” just for emphasis. I don’t think a lot of people are making this argument because I’m literally sourcing it from a few randos on tik tok but goddamn if your views align with these particular tik tok randos please for the love of god just block me cause I despise you and everything you stand for.

And like the thing I really want to get across with this entire rant is that I don’t think Curly specifically was an awful person for not taking the absolute most drastic measures every single time Jimmy said some fucked up bullshit. But I’m so so SO over the trend of people acting like he was perfect and there was absolutely nothing he could’ve said or done because Jimmy is this master manipulator who was pulling the strings the entire time cause I also think that’s also total bullshit. I think there were a lot of opportunities to recognize the red flags and I am so fucking tired of this fandom acting like he couldn’t have done something- LITERALLY ANYTHING to help.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

looks at u with sopping wet eyes.... can i request pest w/ a (nb) partner who is so patient w him despite him being an Ass... with kisses.. love him......... he is so evil and yet. i give him the world.

Of course. He deserves the world <3

...........

Who would've thought you could win the heart of a certain grumpy, thieving stag beetle?

Of course, you two had a rocky start, as Pest didn't like to make friends. He definitely didn't see himself having a partner any time soon.

No matter what, you've always been nice to him, asking about his day while riding in the elevator together (and somehow not taking offense when he tells you to stop bothering him).

You often gave him gifts you obtained on other floors, claiming you had no use for them.

You would even intentionally put coins just within his reach so that he can "steal" them from you, and you'd act surprised.

But Pest quickly catches onto your kind acts and assumes you wanted something from him...and he's right.

You only wanted to be his friend.

It took some time, but eventually he did warm up to you enough to invite you to his underground home, where you discover his coin collection, as well as all the mechanical trinkets and scrap pieces he's gathered over the years.

You liked hearing him explain his hobbies of building things, trying to assist in his construction of a robot.

One night, you went to meet him in the subway station to give him a part....only to trip and fall onto the tracks just as a train was passing through-

When suddenly Pest flew in and saved you from getting hit.

He rarely used his wings anymore, but he was genuinely worried for your safety in that moment. He didn't care that the useful mechanism you brought got destroyed. He could always find another one.

That's when you both realized..maybe he did care for you more than others.

Since that incident, you two have gotten close enough to be considered a couple (although it wasn't official, Poob ran off to tell everybody you and Pest were dating).

Pest was adamant about you actually liking him, thinking his irritable attitude would drive you away...but despite everything, your love, care, and patience for him persist.

Of course, he's not 100% ready to let his walls down yet. He still acts a little cold and sometimes annoyed when you give him kisses or hold his hand (especially in front of other people)...

But not even the sounds of the elevator could drown out the quiet purrs and happy chitters that come from the beetle.

Just like how he looked out for your safety that night at the train station, you've been looking out for Pest's safety as he went around scavenging on different floors.

Whenever he ran out to dismantle the gatling gun (Turret) or steal the ruby (Temple of Something), you'd keep a medkit handy in case he gets hurt.

He claims his exoskeleton is tough and doesn't need "pampering", but he won't complain if you insisted on patching up some of his cuts.

To your surprise, he actually enjoys dates at the Fishy Aquarium.

It's quiet and away from all the noisy people.

Although while you're admiring the fish, Pest is staring at the passing submarine outside the window, thinking of all the ways he could dismantle it for parts.

Too bad he's not a water beetle.

The others see a change in his attitude ever since you started dating him, noticing that he's been a little less rude while in the elevator with him.

He's kept his past with Folly and Dr. Retro a secret from you, not wanting you to get involved in his vendetta against the dream parasite.

You can tell he's hiding something, as you refuse to believe he was always this cold and irritable, but you won't pry unless he's ready to open up to you more.

It took a lot just to get him to befriend you, so you didn't wanna push any buttons you didn't have to.

[ceruark]

I had come to send an ask about Sunday because I’m obsessed with your Sunday writings but then I got distracted by the fact that you’re a Pokémon fan!! (Something that. honestly I should’ve assumed from your pfp/name) do you have any hcs about how N or Kieran would be as yans? (I’d ask about Volo too but I never finished PLA loll if you’d like feel free to talk about him though!)

yandere! kieran and N headcanons

synopsis: yan! kieran and N (separate) x gn! reader words: 1.6k cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking, manipulation a/n: i gasped so loudly seeing this ask that i physically hurt my chest,,, thank you for my life OP (and feel free to send that sunday ask! <3) i’ll hold off on volo for this ask since you haven’t finished PLA (highly recommend that u do though!!)

Kieran

“I’ll probably just get in your way if I stick too close, so I’ll just...follow you from a safe distance!”

If there’s anything the ScarVi DLC taught us, it’s that Kieran is an obsessive at heart.

Prior to the finale of Teal Mask, his obsession with you is rather innocent— that is, it’s certainly concerning, but it’s also not actively hurting anyone. He’s a massive stalker, but relatively harmless; he doesn’t have a Rotom phone so he can’t take invasive pictures or anything like that, and he doesn’t quite yet have the confidence to approach you. At this point, he’s content just observing you from afar and basking in any attention you do decide to direct at him.

“I was getting worried. It'd be so disappointing if you had gotten weaker.”

Things are much different post-Teal Mask, though. His insecurities are rampant and it would definitely affect how he treats his crush, whether you’re the trainer who caught Ogerpon or just some poor soul who attends Blueberry Academy.

He talks down to everyone, but he seems to take a special sort of glee in picking on you specifically. It doesn’t matter where you are— the Terarium, the cafeteria, an empty classroom, or some isolated and abandoned corner of the library— if you’re not in the privacy of your dorm room, he’ll find you, even after you go out of your way to change your schedule every day and take different routes to get places.

Ignoring him will only make things worse. He’s so high on his own power that he’ll see your attempts at brushing him off as a challenge. In his eyes, being strong means being desirable. He’s the strongest at the academy, so why would you possibly not want his attention? Who’s more worthy of your time than him? If you give him the silent treatment, any student you interact with will face his wrath in your stead, resulting in you being isolated. You’ll have to come to him if you have no one else to turn to, right?

He’s infuriated if you spend too much time with any of the Elite Four members. Especially Drayton. If you care about the safety of either of you, don’t even breathe in that boy’s direction.

Despite how cruel he can be, he still relishes your attention and praise, and giving it to him can help make him more tolerable. Tell him how strong he is after a Championship match or compliment a new battling technique before he can bring it up, and he’s putty in your hand. He’s wrapped around your finger, and it would serve you well to remember that.

“So do you think… we could start over from zero and be friends again?”

After the events of Area Zero, he becomes a weird amalgamation of his previous yandere sides. 

Though significantly less willing to openly act on it, he’s still as possessive and jealous as ever. He won’t try to isolate you like before, but he’s not above giving you a kicked puppy look if it means you’ll put off other plans to spend more time with him. He’ll heavily lean back into the innocent act if it means keeping you close.

Just because you’re allowed to have friends now doesn’t mean he’ll allow people to forget their place. If someone tries to pursue you romantically, they’re swiftly dealt with, threatened somewhere well out of your sight. He might feel like he doesn’t deserve you after everything he’s done, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to lose you.

The obsession is back in full force. Hidden beneath his seemingly endless notes on Pokémon battles, tactics, and stats is a similarly-sized stash of notes on you. Your battling style, your food preferences, your interests, stories about your past that you’ve shared with him… the list goes on. He has a phone at this point, and the only thing that rivals his impressive catalog of your entire being is his hidden collection of photos of you taken without your knowledge.

If those close to him comment on the nature of his crush, he’s quick to deflect. It’s easy to guilt Carmine into dropping it by bringing up how she used to treat him, and Crispin’s easy to distract. Drayton, Lacey, and Amarys pose much more of a problem, but as long as you’re not in any distress, they really don’t have anything to complain about.

Just spend time with him and show him affection, and he’s pretty much harmless. If he knows he’s as important to you as you are to him, then there won’t be any need for him to act on his more… concerning tendencies.

N Harmonia

“The result was the same... But you... Who are you?”

As the resident N enthusiast, there is a pretty notable difference between yandere N before the ending of BW1, and after.

As the Plasma King, N is so caught up in his ideologies that he can’t recognize his feelings and actions aren’t conventional or healthy. I can’t imagine Ghetsis raised him to have a healthy concept or model for love, so any form of attraction he feels is something he has to navigate entirely on his own.

That being said, any of his yandere tendencies outlined in this post— both before and after his redemption— are completely unintentional and don’t come from a bad place. He would never be intentionally cruel or harmful toward someone he holds such precious and pure feelings for, even if it was for his own benefit.

Assuming you’re a trainer who opposes his beliefs, he finds himself in a place of great frustration. He despises the fact that you fight to preserve a world that he has witnessed create so much suffering, and yet he finds himself drawn to you. The key to understanding someone’s point of view is to understand where they’re coming from— their background, their upbringing, the very nature of who they are— and that’s how he rationalizes following you around and taking note of your encounters with others and who you choose to regularly associate with.

It doesn’t help that your pokémon speak so highly of you. They adore you, going so far as to say that they wouldn’t want to live a life where they aren’t at your side. You’re the walking contradiction to everything he stands for, the sledgehammer to the foundation of his world— is that why you give him this weightless feeling, like he’s floating?

His confusion manifests into a more intense version of the quiet rage present in him throughout the entirety of the first game. The words he directs at you have a harsh edge, and he presses you with questions on your worldview so much that it feels almost suffocating. And yet, he always seeks you out, seeming to only be a few steps behind or ahead of you at any given time.

“What? You're leaving at a time like this? My formula didn't account for this variable…”

If you’re affiliated with Team Plasma, though, a much different side of him is brought out, one that is more manipulative. 

As his ideals are dismantled right before his eyes, he’ll desperately cling onto something familiar, and that something is you. If at any point you show signs of losing faith in Team Plasma, it won’t be the Seven Sages who try to reindoctrinate you— it will be him. And with your king— who you so deeply adore— speaking to you directly, convincing you to keep fighting for him, how could you say no?

I feel like once he catches one of the legendary dragons, he’ll try to keep you by his side as one of the grunts who tend to him. There’s no longer a reason for you to leave the palace when his dreams are so close to coming into fruition. And when you inevitably get antsy and express that you want to leave, visit the outside world for just a day, he’ll hit you with the cold water. Why would you want to leave? You wish to give up on your shared dream, now of all times? If that’s what you truly desire, then you better be able to withstand living in disgrace in the eyes of your revered king.

The Shadow Triad gets utilized a lot more in both cases. If you’re a normal trainer, they’re “requesting” your presence more than just the couple of times that they do in the game, and if you’re a Team Plasma member, then you’re never out of their sight. Not for a single second. They’re always keeping tabs on you from the shadows, reporting back to N immediately if even one hair on your head is out of place.

“Making dreams come true is hard… I wonder if we will meet again…”

After the finale of BW1, though? He’s quite possibly the most harmless yandere out there. A declawed cat that just wants some headpats, if you will. 

I feel like even though it would pain him greatly, he’d leave his darling behind when he goes out to see the world beyond Unova. He has to pick up the pieces and become a better version of himself, and when he returns, perhaps he’ll be someone worthy of your love.

And when he does return, he’ll be relatively normal. He would never want to keep anyone chained to his side, and he wants you to chase after what makes you happy. Far be it for him to stand in your way.

The only thing that remains is the unintentional manipulation. You’ve always been very accommodating of him, and you’re always willing to cancel plans and return to the home you’ve made for yourselves on days where he feels like everything is just too much. And if he sometimes uses that to get you away from someone you’ve been giving a little too much attention— well, it’s not like it’s hurting anyone.

[bimrwolf]

Lines We've Crossed (Part 1)

sirius black x reader words: 9,550 warnings: angst??? kissy kissy ... yearning summary: Navigating friendship with Sirius Black has always been tricky—his teasing smirks, his easy charm, the way he always seems to be there when you need him. But lately, things feel... different. Unspoken feelings and jealous glances start to creep in, fueled by a tense confrontation and a heartache you don���t want to name. Between rainy Hogsmeade weekends, stolen kisses that weren’t meant for you, and sharp words you can’t take back, the bond you’ve shared begins to fray. As the shadow of war grows darker at Hogwarts, so do the emotions tangled between you and Sirius, forcing you to face the one thing you’ve been avoiding: the truth about how you really feel—and whether Sirius might feel the same. a/n: yeah so i said i'd never write HP fanfics.... here we are lol Part 1 | Part 2 (coming soon)

Thunder rolled and rain pelted against the stone of the Hogwarts castle. You sat in the Gryffindor common room, pouting as you stared out the window. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, but no one necessarily wanted to trudge through the cold, wet rain. A book you had neglected lay nestled in your lap, while your now-cold hot chocolate sat untouched beside you.

You tried to tell yourself it didn’t matter. That Rowan Fairfax canceling on you last minute wasn’t worth the way your stomach twisted every time you replayed the conversation in your head. He had been the one to suggest going to Hogsmeade together, even offered to buy you a butterbeer. But when you asked this morning if he wanted to walk there with you, he’d mumbled something about the rain and avoided your gaze entirely.

It wasn’t just disappointment. It was the way he didn’t even say, Maybe another time. It left you with the sinking feeling that he wasn’t interested anymore. Maybe he never had been.

The thought burned more than you wanted to admit.

You rested your chin in your hand, trying to focus on the rain instead of the sharp ache in your chest. Normally, you’d brush something like this off. But today, it lingered, twisting your thoughts into knots. Was it you? Had you done something wrong?

Your spiraling was interrupted by the sound of the portrait hole opening, followed by familiar chuckles. Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter sauntered in, their voices carrying through the room.

“There she is!” Sirius called, his voice breaking through your melancholy. You turned, startled, as he strode toward you with that same boyish grin he always wore, sliding onto the couch beside you and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

The contact made your skin prickle with warmth, but you quickly shoved the feeling aside.

“We were just talking about you,” Sirius added with a teasing smirk.

Despite yourself, you smiled. Sirius had been one of your best friends since second year. His presence was so familiar it felt like a safety net—steady, dependable, constant. But sometimes, especially moments like this, it felt like too much. Like you were hyperaware of him in ways you shouldn’t be.

James leaned against the back of the couch, grinning. “We were wondering why you weren’t with Lily at Hogsmeade.”

Your stomach sank again at the mention of Hogsmeade. You frowned, turning your gaze back to the window. “I didn’t feel like getting wet.”

Sirius tightened his arm around your shoulders in an exaggerated gesture, his tone full of mock disbelief. “You know there are these objects called umbrellas?”

You nudged him playfully, rolling your eyes. “To level with you, it’s not just the rain. I guess I’m not really in the mood.”

The boys exchanged looks, and Peter let out an exaggerated gasp.

“This is one of the last Hogsmeade weekends before the end of term!” Sirius exclaimed, leaning forward to meet your gaze. His pale grey eyes, always so soft when they looked at you, were filled with genuine confusion.

You tried to hold his gaze, but something about it made your chest ache. “I know,” you mumbled, shaking Sirius off of you. As you moved away from him, you ignored the way his expression faltered. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I’m okay. Really.” 

They all shrugged. Peter sat down and took out a fresh cauldron cake he must have bought at Honeydukes. You started to analyze them and their clothes. Then their hair. “You four came back from Hogsmeade just now?” 

“Yes,” they said. 

“Then how are you all so dry? You look like you haven’t stepped outside.” Sure there were drying spells, but you would still be able to tell they had gotten wet. 

They all looked at one another again, a silent agreement amongst each other. Their eyes wide in panic, clearly hiding something from you. Sirius looked at James, shrugging, but James shook his head vigorously, that if he said anything he’d be dead. 

It was always fascinating to see them communicate without words because James, Remus, and Peter decided to go up to their dorm, leaving you and Sirius alone. You didn’t know if Sirius had won the wordless argument, but he had gotten his way somehow. Sirius quickly changed the subject. “Come on. I’ll go to Hogsmeade with you. Let me buy you a butterbeer.” He had that cheeky grin that he always gave you when he tried to persuade you into doing something. You felt your eyes roll and cheeks heat up at his smirk. You were happy the other boys had left.

“Heard that one before.” You let out a sigh. 

“Huh?” 

You shook your head, kind of grateful he didn’t know. It saved you from embarrassment. “Doesn’t matter.” You bit your lip, looking over at him. “I told you I don’t feel like walking so far in the rain.” 

He smiled again, standing up, holding out his arm for you to take. “Do you trust me?” 

You raised a brow, scoffing. “Yes but–” 

“Then believe me when I tell you the way we’re going, you will not get a single drop of rain on you.” His smile was ear to ear. 

Since first year, Sirius was a mischievous boy. And it never helped that James Potter encouraged the behavior. So it really didn’t surprise you when he showed you the secret passage to Hogsmeade. Sirius made you swear never to tell anyone about it. Ever. 

The pair of you snuck out of Honeydukes, holding in laughter as Sirius had snagged a candy bar from the cellar you ended up in. 

The two of you ran to the Three Broomsticks under an umbrella. Sirius instructed you to find a seat while he retrieved the beverages, which you happily agreed to. You always loved the warmth of The Three Broomsticks. Secretly, you were happy Sirius offered to come with you because the more you thought about it, you’d regret not going. 

You found a table, making your way, smiling wide as you imagined the warm butterscotch. You admired the cozy spot you picked out. You felt better already even when you heard a shrill giggle a few tables over. You looked over, still smiling. You had looked away but looked back, doing a double take. Your face fell. 

It was Rowan Fairfax, sitting across from some blonde haired girl you’ve never seen before. Your eyes narrowed and you faced forward, fists clenched. Sirius noticed right away when he appeared with his hands carrying two pints of butterbeer. “Everything okay?” He set your cup in front of you, slightly startled when you grasped it aggressively, taking a large swig, wiping off the foam from your lip. He watched you in bewilderment as your chair scraped against the wooden floor. You stormed up to Rowan, arms crossed. 

“Not going to Hogsmeade, I see.” Your voice was cool and laced with tiny daggers. 

Rowan’s eyes were wide at the sight of you. He laughed nervously. “Oh… uh… it lightened up so I decided to come. See, I was trying to look for you because I thought maybe you still came but I–” 

You smiled sweetly at him, putting your hand up to stop him from talking. “Oh no! I understand, don’t worry.” 

“You do?” He asked, shoulders relaxing.  

Your smile turned icy as you looked the blonde up and down. “Absolutely! It’s not everyday you find a living thing out of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.” You felt bad, the girl looked nice, but you were fuming with rage. 

Rowan snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Funny. Seems like you’re managing just fine.” He glanced at Sirius behind you, who looked confused about what was going on. “I admit the rain wasn’t the reason I didn’t want to go with you. Maybe it’s because your hands are already occupied by someone else.” 

You furrowed your brows. “What the hell are you talking about, Fairfax?”

“Please,” he guffawed. “Don’t act obtuse. We both know I’m talking about Black! Everyone believes the two of you are already dating.” 

You didn’t expect him to say that. Your face softened but it didn’t stop you from feeling the sting of his words. He gave you a pointed look, smirking. “Or maybe you didn’t notice?” He leaned back looking again where Sirius sat. “You don’t really exactly stop the rumors, do you? Here with him alone and all.” 

Through clenched teeth you finally answered, “For your information. We are just friends.” The irritation in your voice was clear. “Everyone knows we’re only friends.”

“Not sure that’s true. Look at you. You didn’t even wait two minutes to drag him here. I guess you kind of enjoy it. Letting him be your bi–” 

You had had enough. You took the first thing you saw, which happened to be the blonde’s butterbeer. You dumped the rest of the contents all over Rowan. “What the–” The golden liquid ran down his face, soaking into his hair. The girl gasped, but you caught her hiding a smile behind her hand. The entire pub went silent as Rowan sputtered curses at you. 

You didn’t look at Sirius. You couldn’t. The only option you had was to storm out. 

The cool rain drops burned as it fell on your skin.You had your arms crossed against your chest, looking down at the ground. There goes not getting wet. 

It wasn’t long until you heard Sirius calling out your name, his voice was faint at first. He had always been a fast runner, quickly catching up to you. He was breathless but he had gently grabbed your elbow so you’d turn around. He had the umbrella sticking out, letting it shield you from the rain. 

He didn’t know what to say, you could tell. He gave you a small smile. “I promised you wouldn’t get wet…” He tried to joke but he frowned when your jaw ticked. “Listen, I don’t know what Rowan Fairfax said to you but… he’s always kind of been a pompous thickheaded toad.” 

He was only trying to help you feel better but in some way, he was making it worse. Your anger was bubbling again. Your eyes were locked on the ground. The storm inside you was wild as ever. 

“Sirius, I don’t need you to come to my rescue. Not now. Not ever.” You tried to keep your voice steady, and you achieved that by not looking him in the eye. 

He blinked, clearly confused. He looked unsure what to say. “I’m not trying to. I was only making sure you were okay…” 

Your frustration rolled out of you like thunder. “Why do you even care, Sirius?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “We’re not even a couple. You and me. Right?” 

He took a step back. “Of course we’re not. I never said we were. But it doesn’t stop me from caring about you.” 

“Oh sure,” you interrupted him. Your voice was sharp. “Have you ever thought about how many boyfriends I’ve had in all my years at Hogwarts?” 

“What does that have to do–”

“Just answer my question! How many?” You asked, your heart was pounding against your chest. 

He opened his mouth to answer, but quickly closed it. Your lip quivered, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Exactly. None. Not even one. Because apparently, anyone who has ever been interested in me backs off. You know why? Because of you, Sirius. Everyone assumes we’re more than just friends.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t that ridiculous?” 

You ignored how Sirius’ face dropped slightly at the last comment. “I never meant… I didn’t know.” 

You wiped your face. You weren’t sure what was rain or tears anyway. “I just want to be left alone, Sirius. Let’s just only associate with one another when we’re in big groups, okay? No more of… everything.” 

Sirius completely backed away from you. His jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything else to you as he turned back around to head into Hogsmeade. You were certain he was going to the secret entrance, possibly to get back to the castle sooner. You let out a shaky cry once he was gone from view, feeling more alone than ever. Something ached in your chest, like lightning cracking in your lungs. The storm didn’t feel like it was over. 

***

It wasn’t long for the group to feel the tension between you and Sirius. They quickly caught on to the way neither of you looked at each other anymore, how you never spoke directly to him, and how, most of all, Sirius wasn’t all over you. The absence of his usual teasing, his arm slung casually around your shoulders, or even the occasional stolen laugh between you—it was glaring.

They didn’t question it, but it was obvious.

It was the week of the Quidditch Final, and Gryffindor was up against Slytherin. The energy in the Great Hall was palpable, students buzzing with excitement. You, on the other hand, stared listlessly at your plate, poking at your eggs as you sat with Lily far from the boys. You knew they were at their usual spot, probably going on about strategies or Quidditch plays.

Lily was smiling softly, her eyes drifting toward James as she talked about how she had never noticed how fit he was.

You smirked, half-listening, watching the way her green eyes kept sneaking glances across the hall. “Can’t believe you finally caved,” you teased lightly.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone far too innocent as she blinked up at you.

“Please.” You gave her a knowing look. “You definitely fancy James Potter after all these years rejecting him.”

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she ducked her head, rubbing at her temple. “I do not... I mean...” She sighed, burying her face in her hands. “He’s not all that bad now. He’s less arrogant, and I don’t know... oh god, what am I going to do?”

You chuckled quietly at her melodrama. “Suppose you’re going to the game then?�� you asked, trying to keep the tone light.

“If it means watching Slytherin officially lose the House Cup, then yes,” she said, her gaze flicking across the hall to where Severus Snape sat, his expression sour as always.

Normally, Lily was the first to roll her eyes at the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry. But ever since last year—since Snape had called her that name—it felt like something fundamental had shifted in her. You could see it in the way she carried herself, the way her words were just a bit sharper when Slytherins were involved.

You sighed, glancing toward Sirius almost reflexively, even though you told yourself not to. He was on the other side of the hall, a boisterous ringleader as always, getting most of the Gryffindors to join in a chant encouraging James.

Lily smiled at the scene, clearly charmed by the way James tried to hide his embarrassment. Sirius, on the other hand, was utterly shameless, leaping onto the table with Peter and Remus, their arms slung around each other as they swayed to the beat of their own chant.

You couldn’t help but notice the way James’ face lit up when he caught Lily’s gaze. His grin softened into something more vulnerable, more genuine. And Lily, for all her teasing and denial, smiled back, her green eyes gleaming with a happiness you hadn’t seen in her for a while.

You realized, in that moment, that their relationship had shifted. And it would change everything.

You weren’t sure why that realization sat so heavily in your chest. Was it because you envied how easy it seemed for them now? Or was it the fear that everyone was moving forward while you felt stuck?

Your jaw clenched as your gaze fell on Sirius. He was still on the table, completely oblivious to the scolding look Professor McGonagall was shooting his way. He didn’t seem to care. He never did.

And yet, even as McGonagall reprimanded him and took points from Gryffindor, Sirius showed no reaction. He didn’t flinch, didn’t argue, didn’t flash the defiant smirk you’d come to expect from him. He just climbed down, brushing it off like it didn’t matter.

But what frustrated you most wasn’t his reaction—or lack thereof. It was the way he didn’t look at you. His eyes didn’t meet yours across the hall. There was no shared smile, no playful glint.

Instead, he laughed along with James and Remus as if nothing had changed.

Your blood simmered, the boil low and slow, until you realized your fists had clenched under the table. Why does it bother me so much?

You told yourself it was because he wasn’t the same Sirius anymore. He wasn’t your Sirius—the boy who had been your best friend, your anchor. The boy who used to make you feel seen.

It infuriated you because you didn’t even know why it hurt.

Without thinking, you stood up abruptly.

Lily jumped at the sudden movement, startled. “What are you doing?”

You opened your mouth, trying to find an excuse, but nothing came. Instead, you pressed your lips together, the words caught in your throat. “Save me a seat at the game, will you?” you mumbled, your voice tight as you grabbed your bag and scurried off before she could ask more questions.

As you left the hall, your thoughts churned like a storm.

You didn’t want to admit the truth—not even to yourself—but the ache in your chest wasn’t just frustration. It was jealousy, tangled up with hurt and longing in a way that made you feel exposed. Vulnerable.

And it was all because of Sirius.

***

You hadn’t realized Gryffindor had won. The entire game your eyes were glued to Peter who sat by Remus who sat by Sirius who had his arm around a fifth year Hufflepuff, Piper. Your chest felt as if it was collapsing. Your fists were clenched and you were certain if you turned your palms up, indents from your nails would be tattooed into your skin. 

Everytime a chaser from Gryffindor scored. But when James was the one to score, his friends would stand up and cheer. Piper would also stand, clapping her hands, a shrill cheer came out of her. 

The cheers of the crowd swelled around you, Gryffindor red and gold blurring into a sea of celebration. But none of it reached you. Your focus remained fixed, not on the players darting through the air or the roar of James Potter's spectacular goal, but on Sirius.

He was perched in the stands, his arm slung casually over Piper, his easy smile pulling a laugh from her lips. You hated the sound of it. Hated how easily he could charm her—or anyone, really. Sirius Black, the boy who could make friends with a stone if he tried hard enough, was just there, as he always was, and yet, it felt unbearable.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous. Why should it matter? You were upset about the tension between you, about the argument you’d had weeks ago. That’s all it was. Right? That was the reason your chest tightened every time Piper leaned into him, her blonde hair brushing against his shoulder, her laugh echoing in your ears like a mocking taunt.

But when his gaze flicked over to you, just for a moment, and his lips quirked in that familiar sheepish smile—the one that had always felt like it was meant for you alone—your breath caught. It was as if the world had paused, the noise of the match fading into the background. Your stomach twisted, a strange fizzing sensation spreading through you, warm and dizzying and utterly unshakable.

And that’s when it hit you.

You liked Sirius.

No—liked wasn’t strong enough. You cared for him in a way you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to understand before. It was the way your heart raced when he smiled, the way you felt seen when he met your eyes, the way you always seemed to gravitate toward him, even when you were angry.

It was why the sight of his arm around Piper burned like a brand, why your chest ached with a mix of longing and bitterness. You wanted to be the one sitting there, the one making him laugh. You wanted him to hold you the way he was holding her.

Your stomach dropped at the realization. You had been so careful to keep him at arm’s length, to shove those feelings into a corner of your mind and lock them away. But seeing him now, so carefree and entirely out of reach, made it impossible to deny.

The game continued in a blur after that, James scoring again and again, the Gryffindor stands erupting with joy. Lily jumped to her feet beside you, her cheers sharp and triumphant as she hurled taunts at the Slytherin team. Sirius, catching on, shouted something equally bold in her direction. “Hell yeah, Evans!” And she grinned back at him.

You forced a smile, even as your chest tightened. His pale eyes darted to you, his smile softening, like he was testing the waters between you. For a fleeting second, it felt like old times—before the fight, before the distance. But just as quickly as the moment came, it vanished, replaced by Piper’s giggle as she leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

Your heart sank, your fists clenching in your lap. The truth was undeniable now, sharp and unwelcome, but there it was: you liked Sirius Black. And he was sitting beside someone else, grinning as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

You turned your attention back to the game, blinking away the stinging in your eyes as Gryffindor clinched the victory. Around you, your housemates erupted into cheers, Lily throwing her arms around you in excitement. But even as you hugged her back, the ache in your chest refused to subside.

Everyone waited for the team back in the common room which had been decorated in celebration. Lily waited anxiously, hands fidgeting, peering over the crowd of people as the portrait swung open. As if on cue, Peter, Remus, and Sirius appeared with a crate full of butterbeers and sweet snacks. 

Sirius handed you a butterbeer, hands momentarily grazing when you took it… apprehensively. The look he gave you made you swallow the shared secret of how they even acquired a crate full of treats from Honeydukes. No one else knew. And you were sure you weren’t supposed to, but Sirius had trusted you. 

A pang of guilt washed over you. 

He smiled, teeth sparkling out the corner of his mouth. Maybe you two should talk? As soon as the thought crossed your mind, he had already left you, making his way handing out more butterbeers around the room. 

You chugged the glass bottle down, “Are you going to drink yours?” You pointed to Lily’s glass. 

She broke from her daze, staring at James across the room. She looked at the bottle in her hand, shaking her head and giving it to you. Her brows furrowed, concerned how quickly you drank her bottle too, wiping the fizz from your lips with the back of your hand. “Okay, what is going on with you?” 

You looked away, trying not to give away that your mind was occupied with confusing thoughts that you hadn’t figured out yourself. so you lied. “I feel like exams are looming over us.” 

Lily‘s eyes narrowed, scanning you up and down as if she wasn’t entirely convinced. “You do great in all your classes.” 

You hummed. You noticed her attention flickered back over to James. “Are you going to ogle him the entire night or are you going to go talk to him?” 

She frowned and you laughed at her reaction. “Will you just slow down on the butterbeers.” She commented after you had convinced Peter to give you another one. Her hand gently placed on the bottle. “You’ll outdrink the entire team.”

You waved her off, your cheeks flushing from more than just the warmth of the butterbeer. “It’s a celebration, isn’t it?”

She chuckled, removing her hand. “Fine, but only because I’m hoping you loosen up a little.” 

“Loosen up?” you repeated, slightly offended, but she only smirked and gave you a pointed look.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed. It has nothing to do with exams,” she said, leaning closer. “You and Sirius… something’s been off for weeks. Care to explain?”

You froze, your hand gripping the neck of your second butterbeer. “There’s nothing to explain,” you muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“Oh, please,” Lily scoffed, crossing her arms. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other when you think no one’s watching.”

Your jaw ticked, avoiding her gaze, bringing the bottle to your lips. Your eyes flicked to Sirius laughing, throwing his arm around James as they cheered. You could hear him telling the crowd a play by play of James. Your lips betrayed you, lifting into a small smile. Your stomach twisted when his gaze landed on you, returning the smile but it looked a little sad. Maybe you should talk to him. 

“Lovesick,” Lily nudged you. 

“Lily!” you hissed, glancing around to ensure no one overheard.

“Well, am I wrong?” she pressed, arching a perfectly manicured brow.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “It’s complicated. We had a… disagreement, that’s all. He’s just a friend. End of story.” Liar. 

Lily didn’t look convinced. “If you say so,” she said lightly, but the knowing glint in her eye remained. She glanced across the room at Sirius, who was animatedly recounting something to James and Remus, his voice carrying over the buzz of the party. For a moment, her gaze softened, and you could tell she wanted to say more. 

But she didn’t and eventually, she caved. Her and James had found themselves on a loveseat. His arm draped over the back, listening to her talk. You on the other hand, had managed to acquire more butterbeers. You weren’t drunk. You felt lighter. That’s what you told Peter who caught you when you tripped on a corner of a table. “Do… you know where Sirius is? I need to have a few words with him.” You stood tall, attempting to make a serious face. 

He looked around. “I’m not sure. He said he was going to get more snacks but that was ages ago.” He frowned, putting a hand on his stomach. “I was looking forward to some Cherry Tarts. I’ll let him know you’re looking for him!” Peter smiled bright at you. 

You couldn’t help but look disappointed. “It’s alright. I think I’m going to go out and get some fresh air.” 

He gave you a knowing look, patting you on the shoulder. As you weaved through the crowds you wondered if he saw right through you. It was impossible, you didn’t even know what there was to see. 

Someone grabbed your arm as you approached the portrait. The grasp wasn’t tight, but firm enough for you to stop in your tracks. Remus towered over you, his face shadowed with forewarning. “Why don’t you go to bed?” His voice was soft, mixed with something else you couldn’t place your finger on. 

“Why? It’s not that late.” You laughed. It was a lie. It was really late. Professor McGonagall would soon make an appearance to shut the festivities down. Or maybe she wouldn’t because Gryffindor had won the House Cup and the term would be over soon. 

He took in a sharp breath. “You look… will you just go to bed?” 

You pulled away from him. “I already told Peter, I’m not drunk. Okay, yes I had a few butterbeers but I’m not going to fall down the stairs or anything of that sort. I only want to feel the night breeze on my face.” 

Something was on the tip of his tongue, his lips parted but it stayed stuck there. He was hiding something. Which meant your curiosity was much more important than his concern for your wellbeing. You opened the portrait, not giving him another look as you left the tower. You had expected there to be something dangerous on the other side from his foreboding tone but nothing of the sort was lingering around. 

You strolled past different paintings, most of them asleep. You always loved the castle at night. You weren’t exactly allowed to be wandering the halls, but you weren’t planning to go far from the common room. You found a spot, a ledge of the castle where you could see the night sky. You sighed, leaning against the cool stone ledge, willing the breeze to clear your thoughts. It wasn’t as if Sirius hadn’t always been like this—charming, magnetic, always surrounded by people who gravitated toward him like moths to a flame. You had spent years watching it, laughing it off. So why now? Why did it feel like something sharp was wedged under your ribs every time Piper giggled at something he said?

Shaking your head, you pushed off the ledge and wandered back toward the common room, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridor. But as you rounded a corner, you froze. There they were, just ahead—Sirius and Piper.

Your first instinct was to turn back, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the way Piper leaned into him, her voice hushed and sweet as she whispered something in his ear. Maybe it was the way he smiled back at her, that easy, natural smile that used to feel like it was yours.

And then, before you could look away, Sirius tilted his head, his hands cradling her face as he kissed her.

The sight hit you like a Bludger to the chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You stood frozen, your heart racing, as a mix of emotions crashed over you. Jealousy, sharp and biting, surged to the surface, followed by an ugly wave of self-doubt. Why her?

Your eyes lingered on the way his fingers tangled gently in her hair, the way her hands gripped his arms as though he was hers to hold. He looked so... confident, so sure of himself. So completely comfortable in a way that made your stomach churn.

Had he ever thought about kissing you like that? The thought burned, and you hated yourself for letting it linger. But as you stood there, unable to tear your gaze away, you couldn’t stop your mind from spiraling.

What does she have that I don’t? She was pretty, of course. A Hufflepuff—bright and cheerful and bubbly in a way that made her impossible not to like. But it wasn’t just that. There was something effortless about her, something easy. She fit into Sirius’ world in a way you never seemed to.

You bit your lip, your fists clenching at your sides. You could feel the sting of tears threatening to brim, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, anger bubbled up, hot and unrelenting. You were angry at him for doing this—angry at her for being the one in his arms—and most of all, angry at yourself for caring so much.

I shouldn’t feel this way, you told yourself. He doesn’t even know. Doesn’t care. Why would he? Perhaps that’s why you were irritated that Rowan mentioned no guy wanted to be with you because of Sirius. No guy wanted to be with you, not even Sirius. You were undesirable. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of a giggle, and it twisted the knife deeper. Sirius leaned closer, his lips brushing against hers again, and you suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. 

You needed to leave. To put as much distance as possible between yourself and this scene.

But as you turned, you collided with something solid. Peeves.

“Peeper!” the poltergeist cackled gleefully, his voice loud enough to echo down the corridor. You stumbled back, wide-eyed, your cover blown.

Sirius and Piper broke apart instantly, both turning toward the noise. Piper flushed, quickly adjusting her jumper, her embarrassment clear. But Sirius’ reaction was different. His jaw tightened, his expression hardening as his storm-grey eyes locked onto yours.

You stood there for a moment, rooted to the spot, your emotions a mess of humiliation, anger, and something far too raw to name.

“Brilliant,” you muttered under your breath, cursing Peeves as you spun on your heel and stormed back toward the common room. Your footsteps were quick and loud against the stone floor, but they didn’t drown out the sound of Sirius calling your name.

You approached the portrait, clenching your eyes tight as you tried to remember what the password was. 

Tears brimmed the corner of your eyes, burning as you attempted not to let them fall. “Pickle Goblin,” you croaked. The portrait swung open. 

The party had fizzled out. James and Lily were still talking. Remus was on the other side of the room, reading. Peter must have already gone to bed. You stormed inside, ignoring a cheerful greeting from Lily. 

Remus quickly stood up, saying your name sympathetically. 

“Not now,” you choked. The portrait swung open, Sirius’s eyes wide. His hair was disheveled and the little hope you had wanted to believe it was from running after you. He was out of breath, but managed to call your name. You stopped at the door that led to your dormitory. 

Bystanders quickly scurried off to their own dormitories, only leaving you, Sirius, and your friends. You turned around, placing a pretend smile on your face. “Yes?” 

He swallowed, looking over at James, begging for help. “Are we okay?” 

You tilted your head, the smile on your face never reaching your eyes. “Are we okay?” You repeated the words to yourself, looking around the room as if the answer was floating in the air. Your voice was strained and dripped with incredulity. 

He didn’t flinch. His gaze held yours but you saw the flicker of regret. Or perhaps it was frustration, you couldn’t tell. “I mean…” he started, running a hand through his hair. “I just want to fix this. Whatever this is.” 

Lily started to approach you, but you held a hand up, stopping her. “Fix this? Do you even know what this is? You can’t even say it.” 

James shifted awkwardly, tugging Lily back gently by her wrist. "Maybe we should —" he began, but Sirius shot him a look that made him stop mid-sentence.

"Of course I know," Sirius said, his voice lower now, almost pleading. "You stopped talking to me. You-"

Your laugh interrupted him. Remus had stood up this time, saying your name in a warning tone. “Stopped talking to you? Sirius I only told you the truth and you refused to listen to me. I told you we couldn’t do this anymore. We couldn’t do this anymore.” 

“What does that even mean?” His voice got louder. He was frustrated. 

“Exactly! Don’t you see, Sirius. We’ve always been a this. Always close friends who were always together. Always a little too close always giving each other looks that we only know. But never a this that is anything more. And because of that, no one has or will ever see me as anything but your shadow. Not Rowan, not Piper, not even you. Maybe they’re all right. Maybe that’s all I am. In fact, I think you like it because you know that I will do all of those things with no benefits. ” You broke, and your voice quivered. 

Your words hung in the air, suffocating and bitter. 

His face shifted and the confusion left. It was unreadable but you noticed the birthmark above his left eyebrow, knowing it only appeared when he was angry. He answered quietly, “That’s not fair.” 

"Fair?" you repeated, letting out a humorless laugh. "Fair? You think this is about fairness, Sirius? It's about the fact that you're out there snogging Piper while I'm-while I'm-" You stopped yourself, realizing what you were about to admit, and shook your head violently. "You know what? It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" Sirius stepped closer, but you took a step back, your heart pounding.

"No, it doesn't," you said firmly, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Because nothing is going to change. You'll keep being you, and I'll keep being the person no one looks at twice. So, no, Sirius. We are not okay."

For a moment, he just stared at you, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he was holding back a thousand things he wanted to say.

But whatever they were, they never came.

You turned on your heel, your shoulders trembling as you climbed the stairs to your dormitory. You heard James mutter something under his breath, followed by Sirius letting out a frustrated growl.

But you didn't turn around. You didn't look back.

When you finally reached your bed, you collapsed onto it, letting the tears fall freely now.

Somewhere deep down, you had wanted him to fight harder. To say something, anything, that might have made this hurt less. But he didn't.

***

Much like you expected, end of year exams were dreadful. Time dragged on. Nothing was happening except the alarm that the dark wizard, Voldermort was apparently getting stronger and his army was growing little by little. 

There were hushed whispers and rumors that there were Hogwarts students that held allegiance to him. Most of them were Slytherins. 

You hadn’t really had time to even notice the lingering ache of unspoken words whenever you would see Sirius. The tension between you was thick, and if it weren’t for exams, you’d probably drown in it, smothered to death. 

It was easier to busy yourself with studying and homework. You would spend hours in the library, mountains of scrolls for each of your classes. 

Yet, Sirius still found a way to creep into your thoughts. He was unshakeable. It irritated you. Your absentminded tapping against a table forced Lily to stop studying with you.

It was late in the evening when you made your way from the library. You yawned, grateful tomorrow was your last day of exams. The hallways were quiet, and your footsteps echoed, bouncing off the stone wall. You had passed a few ghosts, mumbling about “They’re arguing again.” 

You thought it was weird. Anyone could be arguing but when you turned a corner, you stopped in your tracks. Low, heated voices caught your attention. Two figures were arguing near a tapestry. Sirius and his brother Regulus. 

Regulus looked much like his brother, dark hair, cool eyes. His robes were adorned in Slytherin green. 

Regulus stood rigid. Face stone cold. 

Sirius looked like a storm, hair disheveled, hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. ”I’m not returning and it’s final.” Sirius had run away from home in the middle of the summer holiday, before the school term began. You never saw Regulus and Sirius talk much since then. Only pointed looks full of disappointment from both brothers. 

Regulus crossed his arms. “Because you’re a coward. You’d rather be running around with your pack of strays. You ran away from your family and your responsibilities–” 

“My responsibilities?” Sirius cut in, his voice rising with incredulity. “You mean their leash, their expectations. Their madness. I’m not going to waste my life playing puppet to a cause I despise.” The venom in his tone startled you, even though you’d heard him speak of his family with bitterness before. This was different. It was rawer. More desperate.

Regulus’ face didn’t falter, but his hands clenched at his sides. “You think you’re better than us? That leaving makes you noble?”

“No,” Sirius said, his voice quieter now but no less cutting. “But at least I can live with myself.”

Regulus flinched, his composure slipping for a moment before his expression hardened again. “You’ll regret this, Sirius. You’ll see how wrong you are.”

With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, leaving Sirius alone.

For a moment, you considered leaving before Sirius noticed you. This was personal, a side of him he hadn’t chosen to share with you. But before you could slip away, he turned, his storm-grey eyes meeting yours. The air between you felt electric, charged with emotions you couldn’t quite name.

“How much did you hear?” he asked, his tone clipped, the sharpness in his voice not quite masking the exhaustion in his eyes.

You hesitated, unsure if honesty was the right move. “Enough,” you admitted softly. “Sirius—”

“Don’t,” he said, cutting you off as he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “Just... don’t. I’m fine.”

The lie was glaringly obvious, but his tone left little room for argument. Your chest tightened as you watched him, wanting to reach out, to tell him he didn’t have to go through this alone. But the wall he’d put up between you was unyielding, brick by stubborn brick.

“Are you sure you’re—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. His grey eyes met yours, but they weren’t soft or kind like they used to be—they were cold, stormy. “Why do you even care, anyway? I thought we weren’t even friends.”

The words hit you like a hex, stealing the breath from your lungs. You blinked, stunned, as the sting of his dismissal sank in.

“That’s not fair, Sirius,” you said softly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

“Fair?” he repeated with a bitter laugh, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You made it clear, didn’t you? You don’t want anything to do with me. So why start pretending to care now?”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, anger and hurt warring inside you. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” he shot back, his voice cracking slightly before he turned away, running a hand through his hair again. “Just... leave it, alright?”

The sharpness of his words sliced through you, leaving you frozen in place as he strode down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence. You stood there, alone and hollow, as the ache in your chest grew heavier, threatening to swallow you whole.

You couldn’t sleep. The dormitory had settled into a quiet hum of steady breathing but you lay awake, staring at the canopy above your bed. Lily had noticed you were upset, but you shrugged her off, pretending to fall asleep before everyone else. 

You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your place to worry. He didn’t want your help and pushing him would only make him more distant than he already was. It wasn’t that you wanted to stop being friends with him. You guess you just had realized you didn’t know how to be friends with him after learning your friendship was the reason boys didn’t want to date you. 

None of your racing thoughts stopped the gnawing worry, watching him argue with his brother, who you knew he was once close to. 

Finally, unable to take the stillness of your bed any longer, you slipped out from under the covers and padded down to the common room. You knew someone had the same idea when you saw the fire, low but still glowing, casting flickering shadows across the space.

Your heart skipped a beat when you recognized that person to be Sirius. He sat on the sofa facing the fire, his head resting against the back, his gaze fixed on the dying embers. His hair looked tousled, hanging over the edge. You considered turning back, afraid he might snap at you again. But something in the slump of his shoulders stopped you. 

You didn’t say anything, but you walked into view, offering him a half-hearted smile. His eyes, though tired, didn’t hold the same sharpness as before. His face softened, gesturing wordlessly to the spot next to him. You approached cautiously, sinking into the seat. 

The silence and tension pressed down on your chest, trying to decide what to say. 

“I shouldn’t have been harsh,” he said finally, his voice rough and low. 

You shook your head, your throat tight. “It’s okay. I was just worried.” 

He gave you a small smile, making you feel that weird fizz in you again. “I never told you why I ran away from home. Did I?” 

You shook your head. 

He let out a humorless laugh, looking back at the fire. For a long moment, he didn’t respond. He fixed his gaze back to you, eyes heavy with a pain you couldn’t describe. “She wanted me to take the Mark.” 

“What?” The air left your lungs in a rush, but your brows furrowed, somewhat hoping it wasn’t what you thought he meant. 

His lips pursed. “My mother,” he answered, his tone bitter. “She wanted me to bear the Dark Mark. Pledge my allegiance to V… the Dark Lord. Said it was my duty.” He paused, his hands clenching to fists. “That’s why I left. I didn’t even pack. I left everything. I didn’t even say goodbye to Reg and I know a part of him hates that I didn’t. But if I had… I don’t think I would’ve gone through with it.” 

He rubbed his face, sighing. “And now my biggest fear is playing out. Regulus is beginning to truly believe the lies of my family. I’m sure it’s my mothers doing.” 

Your heart twisted. “Sirius…” You placed your hand on his. He tensed for a second, and you felt guilty of the weeks you hadn’t been around him that even your touch was foreign to him. He glanced at your hand on his, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. For a moment, he looked like he might pull away, but then his shoulders sagged, and he let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Regulus... he’s my brother. And I hate what he’s becoming, but at the same time, I can’t blame him. Not entirely. He’s just... he’s stuck. Just like I was.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice. This wasn’t the Sirius who was loud and brash, always ready with a witty comeback or a rebellious grin. This was Sirius stripped bare, raw and aching, and it broke something inside you to see him like this.

“He’s not you, Sirius,” you said softly, your hand still resting on his. “He’s still young. He still has time to see the truth.”

Sirius shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You’re too optimistic for your own good, you know that?” He leaned into you playfully. Another beat went by, and the sadness returned into his eyes. “I don’t regret my choice to leave. But I miss him,” he admitted quietly. “And I hate that I do.” 

You swallowed hard, trying to choose your words carefully. “He’s still your brother, Sirius. That doesn’t just go away.” 

His lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

You smiled softly, the tension between you easing just slightly. For a while, neither of you spoke, the crackling of the fire filling the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It felt... safe. Familiar.

“I miss you,” Sirius said quietly after a while, his gaze fixed on the flames. 

You felt the heat in your cheeks rise and that heavy feeling be placed on your chest again. You swallowed hard. “I miss you too.” 

His eyes flicked back to yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of you. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something that made your heart race and your stomach twist with nerves. You looked away, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

As you sat beside Sirius in the dim glow of the fire, the tension between you seemed to melt into the warmth of the common room. Yet, the knot in your chest remained, twisting with every word, every glance he threw your way.

The air between you felt fragile, as though any sudden movement might shatter the moment. You tried to focus on the flicker of the flames, but your thoughts were a mess of questions you didn’t dare ask. What did all of this mean? For you? For him? For the strange push and pull that had lingered between you for so long?

Sirius shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing yours. It was such a small thing, but it sent a jolt through you, and you suddenly realized how aware you were of him—of his presence, his scent, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you.

Why is this happening now? you wondered, stealing a glance at him. He looked tired, his face shadowed with an exhaustion that went far deeper than the physical. His confession about the Dark Mark, about his family and Regulus, had cracked something open in you—a deep well of empathy and something else. Something warmer. Something you weren’t sure you wanted to name.

You studied his profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair fell messily across his face. He was beautiful. He always had been, but now, in this quiet moment, the thought struck you differently. There was something vulnerable about him tonight, something that made your chest ache.

What if you lose him again? The thought whispered through your mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The weeks of tension between you had been suffocating, but this... this felt like a fragile lifeline. You didn’t want to let it slip through your fingers.

Your gaze dropped to his hands, resting loosely on his knees. You thought about all the times those hands had brushed yours—accidentally or intentionally—how they’d tugged you along on one of his harebrained adventures or steadied you when you’d nearly fallen on the Quidditch pitch.

And now, as you sat here together, a thought crept into your mind. A thought you’d pushed aside countless times before, too afraid to confront it. What would it feel like to hold his hand and not let go? To know what it’s like to kiss him? Your cheeks flushed at the thought, and you quickly looked away, scolding yourself. Don’t be ridiculous. He was your best friend—or had been, before everything went sideways. This wasn’t the time for romantic fantasies, not when he was baring his soul to you.

But the thought wouldn’t leave. It settled in your chest, insistent and impossible to ignore. You had spent years brushing off the idea, convincing yourself it was nothing. A fleeting crush. A side effect of being so close. But now, in the stillness of the common room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than that.

“Sirius,” you said suddenly, the sound of your own voice startling you.

He turned to you, his brows lifting slightly. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, your heart hammering in your chest. Don’t do this. Don’t make it weird. He’s already had a terrible night.

But then his eyes met yours, and for a moment, you swore the world stood still. There was something in the way he looked at you, something that made your breath catch.

“Sirius,” you began again, your voice softer now, “have you ever thought about kissing me?”

The words hung in the air, and the moment they left your lips, your stomach flipped with a mix of dread and anticipation. You braced yourself for his reaction, for the laugh or the scoff or—worst of all—the rejection. But none of those things came.

Instead, he stared at you, his eyes wide and searching. “What?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

You laughed nervously, shaking your head as if you could erase the question. “Never mind,” you said quickly. “That was a stupid thing to say.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse roaring in your ears. “I don’t know,” you admitted, though it wasn’t entirely true. “It’s just... I don’t want to go into seventh year never having been kissed. And... I trust you.”

His eyes softened at that, his surprise giving way to something warmer. “You trust me?” he repeated, his voice quieter now.

“Yes,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “I trust you more than anyone.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the firelight flickering in his eyes. You could see the hesitation in his expression, the way he was weighing his words. And for a moment, you wondered if you’d made a mistake. But then he let out a breath, his lips twitching into a small, uncertain smile.

“You really know how to put a bloke on the spot, don’t you?” he said, his tone lighter now, though his voice was still tinged with something deeper.

You couldn’t help but smile, though your heart was still racing. “So... would you?”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you as if he were trying to figure out if you were serious. “Are you sure about this?” he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your throat tight. “I’m sure.”

Sirius hesitated, his eyes locked on yours, searching for any sign that you might change your mind. When he leaned in, it was slow, cautious, like he was giving you every chance to pull away. His hand brushed against your cheek, tentative and warm, as his lips met yours in a soft, chaste kiss.

It was simple, just the barest press of lips, but it sent a shiver through you nonetheless. His touch was surprisingly gentle, like he was afraid you might break. When he pulled back, he lingered close, his breath brushing against your skin.

“There,” he murmured, his voice low and almost teasing, though his tone lacked its usual confidence. “First kiss accomplished.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. Something unspoken lingered in the air between you, the warmth of his hand still ghosting on your cheek. The kiss had been sweet, careful... but it hadn’t been enough. Not for you.

“Sirius,” you said softly, reaching for his wrist before he could move away completely. He froze, his grey eyes wide and questioning as you tugged him closer again. “Wait.”

“What is it?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his for the second time. This time, the kiss wasn’t cautious or hesitant. It was fuller, deeper, and it carried all the emotions you hadn’t been able to put into words.

For a moment, Sirius seemed startled, but then he responded, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he kissed you back with more certainty. His other hand moved to your waist, fingers splaying lightly against the fabric of your jumper. You felt his thumb brush a slow circle there, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head slightly, letting the kiss deepen, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer. His lips were warm, soft but insistent, moving against yours in a rhythm that made your heart race. There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed—like he was pouring every ounce of himself into it, like he couldn’t get enough.

Your breaths grew uneven, mingling between you as the kiss intensified. Sirius’ fingers tightened slightly at your waist, and you felt the faint scrape of his teeth against your lower lip as he deepened the angle. It was perfect—messy, electric, and far more than you had expected.

And then, just as suddenly, Sirius pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as he broke the kiss. His breathing was unsteady, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

“Wait,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. His hands lingered where they were, one on your neck, the other at your waist, but he didn’t move closer again. “We should stop.”

You blinked, still catching your breath. “Why?” you whispered, your fingers still clutching his shirt.

“Because,” he said, laughing softly, though there was a tremor in his voice. “If we don’t, I don’t think I’ll want to.”

The words hung between you, heavier than they should have been. You nodded slowly, pulling back just enough to look at him. His cheeks were flushed, his lips slightly swollen, and there was something vulnerable in his eyes that made your chest tighten.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his hand brushing against your cheek one last time before he pulled away entirely. He stood, running a hand through his already messy hair, and gave you a small, lopsided smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, watching as he turned and disappeared up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

You sat there for a long time after he was gone, your fingers still tingling where they had touched him, your lips still warm from the kiss. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, but your thoughts were anything but quiet.

The ache that had lingered between you for weeks had softened, but it hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it had transformed into something else entirely—something that both thrilled and terrified you.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t over. Not yet.

[randomfoggytiger]

I don’t want to believe… You would think that Mulder would not blatantly give up searching for HIS SON, William, after he found out Scully had put him up for adoption. First reason why this doesn’t make sense: He spent 27 years searching for his sister. She was abducted by a shadow government group with lots of power to manipulate him and Scully, but that didn’t deter him from searching. So why stop with William? Second reason: Seeing Scully tormented by her decision—which in many fanfics caused their relationship to end—would have motivated Mulder to take action because he is very protective of her. Third reason: Although the LGM are gone (another bullshit concoction of CC to kill off beloved characters for no reason), it’s hard to fathom that Mulder doesn’t have other friends or allies who could hack into the adoption system to track down his son. I would love to get your thoughts on this. For me, the series ended in season 8, but they made season 9, IWTB, and the revival seasons so I have to ask… I love reading the different perspectives of how it all went by the many talented fanfic writers, but I haven’t read any that takes these points into consideration. Please point me to them if you know of any!

THANKS! =)

I think what CC was going for was a two-fold decision:

Scully lost faith in herself, and gave up William

Mulder lost faith in himself, came back to dead friends and his son gone, and resigned himself to execution

This doesn't work for a couple of reasons:

Mulder wouldn't have left in the first place, even if Scully had begged him (see Redux II, there are some things his conscience won't allow)

Scully wouldn't have given up her son through a private adoption, given Emily's history with adoption and the Consortium

Now, would Mulder have stopped the adoption? TLG were alive when it happened, right? But he wasn't told about William's placement until after their deaths and his imprisonment-- meaning, the only time we see him react-ish to his son's adoption was after he'd lost sight of himself and was sitting sadly waiting for execution (I think?)

On the one hand, TLG and Danny from the FBI were shown to be his only "get 'er done" contacts; and Danny wouldn't be an option after Mulder and Scully took to the road. However, that never stopped Mulder if he wanted to get information: he's more likely to break and enter than let the matter rest (his entire mission during Season 9, for example.)

My guess would be: he didn't retrieve William because he knew there was no life for his son on the run. How would he go to school? How would he get his necessary medical appointments? How would he make friends and live the life he needed? It would be different if they went on the run together, of course; but that didn't happen.

However, the above logical explanation doesn't take into account the fact that Mulder and Scully know their son's privacy would be invaded even if the adoption were closed. Just as I think Scully would have decided against a closed adoption-- she would've, at least, had TLG find her suitable parents on the down-low-- and just as I think Mulder wouldn't have left to begin with, so, too, do I think both would have heard information while on the run that made them double back to protect William's safety. Or Mulder would have anticipated it and told Scully, and both would have hoped their son would be okay. In that case, that anxiety would need to be addressed in IWTB and the Revival, i.e. Mulder finding a contact to trace the closed adoption and constantly checking up on his son (via computer) from the Unremarkable House. And Scully would have sanctioned these measures and been just as overprotective.

But guess what? IWTB throws a wrench in that plan: Mulder basically acknowledges the FBI knows where his hiding spot is (roughly) and decided to leave him alone for... five years? Why, then, didn't he try to get back his son? If he and Scully were on the road one year and in housing the rest... why not at least look into his son's adoption? Did he? If so, the writers neglected to mention that.

Here comes the sticky problem: I can see Mulder, unable to challenge the adoption (wanted fugitive, hello), having to resign himself to the hope that his son was happy after a few years. We see him let 'Samantha' go in Redux II-- back to the Cancer man, even-- because she chose to. He will let people do what they think is best, but he won't forget. And after 2012 passes, there's no way he stays away from his son (especially after the Revival practically states his depression wasn't linked to 2012.)

Realistically? William would have been snagged years before the Revival. And even though Scully thought she'd cured him with magic rocks (getouttahere), both she and Mulder know William is a liability (in S9) to all factions: one of them would have found and exterminated him, easily, just to tie up loose ends. Mulder and Scully would have to be profoundly stupid people to believe otherwise. Moreover, I don't think Mulder would be as trusting to William's safety after Skinner told him his son had been adopted: I think it would have made him paranoid, and snapped him out of his funk-- because even when down in the depths of the dumps, Mulder will set aside his issues to protect someone else. And William, per this information, needed to be protected. And let's say he pushes the issue: Scully either pushes back, and he respects her decision; or Scully gives in, persuaded by his arguments. Both are left up to the skill of the script; but logically his arguments would be pretty sound.

I'm sure I could come up with ten ways to Sunday how the adoption could have fallen out, so consider this one possibility. ;))))

[skittlesking]

Cross calm down

Nightmare talk about why he's here & then judge from there okay?, don't jump to conclusions just yet.

At least listen to what he has to say, it's the least you can do

Cross is a bit more understanding now. He won't let Nightmare off easy, but obviosly there are much more pressign matters

(also replies may be a bit slow. between the storm and me falling ill again. started this earlier but fell asleep my bad-)

[moonfurthetemmie]

Atrophy

Having a SIGNIFICANTLY better time! also i had to go scroll though my blog because I couldn't remember if I talked about Lucidity and his evil gay polycule here yet. I thought i did but i wasn't sure. and then they made me make and eat dinner

anyways perceive him again. look at him. ooo ahhh pretty man

No longer looks like a hobo. Probably helps that he's actively taking care of himself.

Uses Dream's signature weapon still

Actually quite likes himself, but also takes himself way too seriously sometimes

disrespect can result in anger or just a moment of utter confusion. what do you MEAN you don’t respect me?? (Nightshade is the only exception. but only because he knows Nightshade is doing it because he loves him)

Quite spiffy, I must say. Actually bothers to look presentable. Probably amenable to letting Nightshade pick out clothes for him, SOMETIMES. Not every day. Not every day Nightshade. put those away.

probably still wears stuff Nightshade got for him on a semi-regular basis, whether Nightshade says something or not

also since he doesn't absolutely despise the two that fused to become Him, he has no issues with looking like either of them. Some days he dresses more like on than the other.

Switches between Ani's charm and Obsidian's iconic necklace. Would wear both at once, but isn't sure how to do that without it looking weird.

Still kind of emotionally constipated. Nightshade’s gonna bully him (lovingly)

May or may not still have particular affection towards Jasper. If yes, I am fascinated by the implications. Also that probably means whatever is going on with Entropy and his version of Jasper is probably much deeper and possibly more concerning than it looks.

It's notably easier for him to come to a balance that lets him summon storms. he's totally normal about that. nightshade is also very normal about it.

some of the bits at the end i'm pretty sure hasn't been shared in the discord server yet. so. oopsies? there was another thing i was going to add to it, too, but i don't remember what it was now...oh well.

Atrophy is more affectionate than Shale, but has a harder time opening up than Lucidity. So he's like. moderately emotionally constipated

Also, Shale is very violent and rough, whereas Lucidity is generally more gently and chill. This makes for a very interesting combination when he’s doing stuff like, oh, spending time with Nightshade, trying to get Nightmare to stay in the manor with them…that sort of thing. Fighting’s more or less the only exception.

While he’s generally chill about the fusion thing, he still would like to un-fuse. But it’s more of a “Hm. Things were more fun when there were three of us.” Thing that absolutely despising both ‘halves’ of himself, and by extension his entire existence. Having said that, Lucidity and Shale would probably be amenable to fusing again; especially with how powerful they were

although the entire polycule is very curious if Lucidity and Nightshade could fuse

In regards to Nightmare, Atrophy is generally a lying bastard. Some of his promises he does somewhat intend on keeping. He promises to make sure no one will ever hurt him again, and that, if he can manage to unfuse, Nightmare and Lucidity can stay together prettty much forever. He promises that they’ll all make sure Nightmare never wants for anything again, never has to be on the run again, so on.

The thing is, Atrophy’s idea of hurting Nightmare, in this context, is only physical harm.

Mental/emotional harm by manipulation? Nahhh that’s not real (he knows it's real. But he’s pretending it isn’t, around Nightmare). Subtly/gently coercing Nightmare into doing something he doesn’t actually want to do? Well if he really didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t have said yes at all <33

He’s way too good at getting most of the desired reactions out of Nightmare, which is a combination of Shale being a manipulative little bastard and Lucidity having known Nightmare their whole lives. He would also let Nightshade gently push Nightmare into doing something

Fortunately (?) for Nightmare, part of the reason Atrophy’s trying to get Nightmare to say yes instead of just going ahead and doing things is because of how often Shale avoids doing certain things because Lucidity would be upset. Particularly in regards to Nightmare.

“Having some fun” with Lucidity’s childhood friend was never worth losing his boyfriend such a useful ally

Unfortunately, Shale’s influence is why Atrophy is pushing in the first place

Nightmare keeps freezing up instead of running when Atrophy tries to get him to stay at the manor. Cross and Error are slowly becoming Nightmare’s only reason for staying away; even if they’re not right there.

It still got steadily worse as Atrophy managed to get Nightmare alone more and more, but that also meant it was becoming increasingly clear to Nightmare that Atrophy did not like Cross and Error. At all. Like. Nightmare is genuinely afraid for their lives.

If he ever does start to cave, he’s going to make Atrophy do a few things for him before he comes to the manor.

Nightmare knows there’s several people in the manor who can’t leave, because Shale (and presently Atrophy) won’t let them. Nightmare needs to be able to leave when he wants, for whatever reason.

In no way can Atrophy be a reason why Cross and Error get hurt. He can’t hurt them himself, he can’t get someone else to do it, he can’t lure them into danger or danger to them, or anything else. Not intentionally, not as a ‘suggestion’, not a ‘ohhh nightmare said I can’t hurt Cross and Error. Be a shame if something still happened to them wink’. Nightmare tries to cover as many possible loopholes as he can, but he’s afraid he’s still missing some.

Atrophy has to prove to Nightmare that he can be trusted. which is going to be quite difficult. Especially since he’s hesitating to agree to Nightmare’s terms now that Nightmare told him to prove he can be trusted :3

Champ is SO confused for a while. who is this??? Why does he smell like Lucidity but also Shale but also not quite either??? What is going on where's his human*

Atrophy is just as affectionate with Champ as Lucidity was, which most of the rest of the manor is quietly snickering about. what was that about not liking the loud husky, Shale?

Also, since Atrophy's status as a fusion means that, technically, Lucidity and Shale do not exist while he is here, he kinda misses them. Which is a really weird feeling. He is them, but he also feels like some of the people he loves are Missing.

he expresses this to Nightshade, who bites his lip and goes "i wasn't going to say anything, but. same. it's a shame I can't have you and dream and obsidian at the same time." and then does an over-dramatic sigh

atrophy thinks this is very funny

*he's not human but y'all know that already

[localchocobomerc]

ULTIMATELY CLOUD IS A LONELY PERSON WHO FINDS PEOPLE TO LOVE, WHO LOVE HIM FOR REAL!!!!!

[multishipper-baby]

Lately I've been ruminating about my Eak headcanons some more and I'm trying to like... Manage the level of angst I want to work with.

[dutybcrne]

Something something, Kaeya developing a simultaneous pyromania-pyrophobia after Le Confrontation

[ambrosiagourmet]

I want to talk about why I think this is the one of the most important Falin panels:

So, Falin is really nice, right? It's one of the first things we really learn about her. She's kind even to the monsters of the dungeon - choosing to ward the party rather than fight spirits and cause them needless harm.

In the above early flashback in chapter 11, we see Marcille fawning over Falin's kindness, calling her an angel. Namari calls her soft-hearted. We see Falin choose not to fight even when a zombie attacks - instead she resolves the confrontation with a hug. After the flashback, the first thing Senshi says is that Falin "sounds like quite the person," which Marcille strongly affirms.

At this point in the story, all we have seen of Falin are these impressions; she is a healer, an angel, a caretaker with an infinite well of kindness towards everyone she meets - both friend and foe.

And honestly, that remains most of what we have to go by to understand her. The only times we get to see Falin on the page, alive and just herself, are in the opening and closing pages of the story and in the brief period of time after she is resurrected.

Nonetheless, we do have some more details to work with. For one, there is the scene that The Panel is from - a short memory in chapter 75, when Marcille flashes back to while she's dying. In that scene, Falin prepares to teleport them all out, and says that she's sorry "if there is a person at [their] destination." And that's when we get The Panel.

If you teleport someone or something into another person, the person teleported into is likely to be, at minimum, severely injured. They could die.

We can see a lovely little horrifying example of exactly why in one of the Daydream Hour doodles:

So, hmm. That's not... that's not SUPER nice. Certainly not displaying the same "kindness to all, friend and foe included" we saw represented earlier. On a basic level, this adds some nuance to Falin's kindness. We see it break a little, when pushed to the limit. We see her chose to protect the people she loves above all else.

Which makes sense! As Laios says when the Winged Lion accuses him of similarly being motivated more by his friends' safety than everyone else in the dungeon, "...most people, aside from virtuous do-gooders, would feel the same way."

So, we can take The Panel as simply showing a moment of weakness for Falin. A time when she was pushed to her limits, and that "most people" selfish side of her shone through.

However... I think there's a little more going on with Falin than just her being an angel 99% of the time, except just that once. I love The Panel because I think it helps us understand that Falin isn't just motivated by kindness - she also has a desire to avoid seeing people in pain.

Isn't that the same thing?

No, no it very much is not.

Let's look at a short comic from the Falin section of the Adventurer's Bible, because I think it illustrates this point perfectly. The group is complaining about how much Marcille's healing hurts, and comparing it to Falin's, which "doesn't hurt a bit." Marcille retorts with the following:

Now, the punchline of this comic is that, despite Marcille's sentimental assertion that she's "thinking of [them]" by letting her healing magic hurt, they all still prefer to be healed by Falin.

But hey, this wouldn't be the first time that Dungeon Meshi hides a very real character beat or insight in a gag, so let's think about this somewhat seriously.

If Marcille is right (and she knows a fair bit about magic, so we can assume that she has at least somewhat of a point), then what Falin is doing isn't kind. I suppose if someone specifically requested to not feel the pain, it could be kind, but that's not really what happened here. She is the one who felt badly about the others being in pain, and she is the one who decided, without telling them or giving them a choice in the matter, to take away that pain.

Both Marcille and Falin are healing the party, but Marcille is doing it in a way that accomplishes the task in the most straight forward way, without any additional interference. Falin is going out of her way to perform the healing in a way she is more comfortable with. A way that avoids pain.

Going back the The Panel, I don't think its a coincidence that the only time we see Falin (well, non-chimera Falin) willing to do something that could hurt someone is when any potential pain will be far away from her. If she got someone hurt or killed by teleporting the party to the surface? Not only would it be far out of her sight, but she'd be dead before she had to deal with any consequences of that action.

Falin is not a confrontational person. She doesn't push when Marcille won't tell her the truth about the resurrection, and she comforts Laios about her own death - both of those things happening in the only full chapter she is alive and conscious in the whole story.

We also know that she considered accepting Shuro's proposal, despite not having any special feelings towards him, and that Falin never explained to Marcille that she wanted them to share a meal together. When she brought Marcille various foods at the academy, she just accepted Marcille's confused rejection and gave up.

And lastly, we know that she is still in contact with her parents, despite the neglect and abuse she suffered at their hands. Although the way someone chooses to handle contact with abusive or bad family is a complicated topic, which I don't want to overly simplify, I do I think this fact gets at the heart of how she handles conflict.

So many people that Falin loves have hurt her. There are understandable hurts, like Laios leaving the village, or Marcille not understanding the food. And there are bigger, far less justifiable hurts - like her parents neglecting her throughout her childhood, and sending her away to be alone at the magic academy.

It doesn't seem like Falin has ever confronted any of it directly.

And the unhealthy aspects of this kind of avoidance of pain and confrontation is one of the things that the story of Dungeon Meshi is all about. We see Laios grapple with it before he goes to kill Falin, and we see Marcille acknowledge it at the end of the story, when she tells Laios that she has come to terms with Falin's death:

Eating is a part of life. Consuming other living things is a part of life. It isn't really possible to avoid that pain - you can only hide from the truth of it. You have to be selfish everyday. You have to eat - to choose to live. To choose to take up space.

And this is something Falin embraces, too. She comes back to life, after all.

We see her choose to come back to life.

And how does she make that choice? She eats. She consumes, and then she is asked a question by the manifestation of hunger itself:

Do you want to eat more?

There is a double meaning in the Winged Lion's final words on the next page.

When I first read this, I took it as him saying: life is cruel. You will suffer. You will feel more pain.

But perhaps, especially for Falin, this also means: you are choosing a path where you must cause pain. Where you must consume. Where you must take, and must be selfish. Because eating is the special privilege of the living, and it is their burden, too. In order to stay alive, she will need to keep eating.

And she chooses that. Chooses to be selfish. It's why her resurrection scene is so important, and it's why The Panel is so important. Because Falin coming back isn't the ultimate reward for all of the party's hard work.

It's her choice. Just like it was her choice that started everything in the first place. But this time, she doesn't choose to accept causing pain for the sake of Marcille and Laios. She does it for her own sake.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, unbalanced power dynamics, obsessive/possessive behavior, and manipulation.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's the best security you could possibly ask for. You've been told that hybrids aren't very good for protection, that you'd be better off just getting a regular dog or, better yet, not living alone in one of the sketchier neighborhoods of a notoriously unsafe city, but those people haven't meant your Kento. Stern, stoic, and loyal - he keeps you safe, helps around the house, and doesn't need (or want, for that matter) half of the attention a normal dog would need. Really, it's more like having a personal bodyguard than a pet. You're sure he'd prefer if it if you treated him more like the former than the latter, too.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who'd practically be human if it wasn't for the adorably pointed ears on top of his head, the wiry tail at the base of his spine, and the dull canines you sometimes catch a glimpse of during one of his rare smiles. It's clear that he doesn't consider himself to be like most hybrids, so you do your best to treat him like a roommate - giving him his space, making sure he has his privacy, constantly resisting the urge to run your hands through his hair and apologizing profusely when you inevitably fail. He claims he doesn't mind, not if it's you, but you've seen the way his lips curl when strangers so much as approach him, how he rolls his eyes when he sees other hybrids sitting on their owners' laps or begging for treats. You're not eager to get on his bad side, even if you do occasionally catch him slipping into your bed in the middle of the night.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's mistaken for your boyfriend at least once a week. It's your own fault, really. He likes to walk you to work, run errands while you're away, all the things a stay-at-home boyfriend would usually do if he were as loving and as attentive as Nanami. It's always embarrassing, even if all you have to do is nod to one of his less-than-human features to clear up the misunderstanding. Still, it happens so often, and you're not proud to admit that from time to time, you don't have the energy to do anything but smile and nod when your elderly neighbor compliments the 'hunk of a man' living with you.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's less naturally protective than you think he is. He's concerned with your safety, of course, but that's not a privilege that extends to the male coworkers he catches with a hand on the small of your back, to the friends who drag you out of your shared apartment and don't bring you back until the early hours of the morning. He spends more nights than he's proud of standing outside of your bedroom door, listening for any signs of life, waiting for an intruder, or a nightmare - any excuse to cross that unspoken boundary. It'd be more practical to spend his nights on the foot of your bed like every other drooling, filthy mutt hybrid, but that's not the kind of relationship he wants to have with you. Not if you have to think of him as a dog to get there.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who has to fuck his fist three times a day to offset his humiliating instincts. He tried for complete abstinence at first, not to think about you in that context at all, but there's only so many hours of his day he can spend with his knot pressed into his stomach, his cock twitching every time you bend over or brush against him. Still, it's far from a long-term solution. How could it be, when he still cums untouched every time you scratch the base of his ears?

Guard Dog!Nanami, who volunteers to take care of your household chores so he'll have an excuse to root through your laundry while you're away. He's surprised you haven't noticed just how much of your underwear mysteriously vanishes with every load, but even if you were less oblivious, he'd rather you be suspicious of him than ever find the hoard of tattered, stained, ruined fabric he keeps underneath his mattress.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who knows this can't go on for much longer. He loves you, and he respects you, and he knows that you'll never really see him as anything more than a pet, but he's can't seem to bring himself to see you as a master. And, when he's walking you home late at night after yet another unplanned bar crawl, when he's listening to you whine half-coherently about how hard it is to live with a hybrid that's so close to human, he may pass a darkened alleyway and listen to the long-buried, animalistic mind urging Nanami to claim what belongs to him.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who knows that you'll never make a very good master and he'll never make a very good pet. But, that doesn't mean he can't hope that you'll both be better off after your roles are reversed.

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine logan seeing you again

logan x reader

warning: some deadpool x wolverine spoilers. this takes place after the movie. under 1k words.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The apartment was packed jammed with friends and some foes of Wade Wilson. There might have been music playing in the background, but Logan couldn’t tell when his eyes locked with the figure walking through the front door. His heart dropped, he felt sick to his stomach as his eyes fluttered. It had to be a dream but then he quickly came to his senses.

This wasn’t his universe, his world. He was somewhere entirely new. He caught his breath as Wade shouted out an exclamation of joy. Logan watched as he drew up from his seat to greet you with an overzealous hug, pulling you toward the group at the table.  Wade held you rough by the shoulders and grinned. “Look who decided to come out of retirement, conveniently after we,” he pointed to Logan then himself. “Saved the fucking world. Avengers, who? Bunch of assholes, if you ask me.”

“You sound like a man scorn, Wade,” you teased, offering a wave of a hand to your friends. The idiot next to you was right, the whole superhero thing had been a thing of the past. You have been a regular civilian for a few years now and have been loving a more relaxed existence – not being threatened daily was like, nice. “Don’t worry, you’ll see all the details in the movie. Have you meant my little angry beaver, the Wolverine?”

Your head jerked to where the older gentlemen was sitting, and you grinned. “I haven’t had the pleasure. I never met this world’s Logan – we ran in different circles. It’s nice to meet you.”

His heart relaxed and he confidently held out a hand, ignoring the interested glance from Laura. “Nice to meet you.”

“Take a seat next to Logan,” Wade urged, winking over to his new hesitant partner. “I’m sure he can fill you in on all the fun we’ve had together. Tell her about the sex ramp we had in the car that one time.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Logan cursed, telling you to ignore him.

“I usually do,” you laughed, thanking Vanessa for the beer she slid over from her side of the table. Popping it open, you relaxed and asked Logan how this place was treating him. “Must be weird, coming here. It’s like your world, right? Just slightly different?”

“Something like that.”

“Did we know each other back there?”

Your question seemed so invasive and frank – it almost made Logan smile because some people never changed, no matter what universe. Back where he came from, you were such a firecracker little shit. He had his hands full dealing with your bullshit. You were always running towards danger with little regard for your own safety because you had him. He had always been at your side, or at least, trying to catch up but he had always been there for you.

Logan had loved you and you had loved him.

Two reckless mutants.

Then you died and that sent him straight down a barrel of alcohol and indifference, to everyone and everything in his world. Which led to his greatest shame of all, allowing his family to be murdered because he was too busy drinking his sorrows away. He had long forgotten what it felt like to see you smile or hear you laugh, to feel your fingertips on his skin. The weight of your head on his chest as you slept, he never could replicate that feeling and yet, here you were.

A different version of you but God, the same.

“We were friends, really good friends.”

The hint of sadness in his voice was enough for you to understand and maybe not truly, but something had happened. That much was evident and while it might have been silly, you wanted nothing more than to comfort this man next to you. The room seemed to fall quiet, but no one was paying attention, except the girl next to Logan. Your eyes met hers, but she just smiled and looked away. Logan’s eyes were focused on the beer in his hands, but his eyes jerked up when a gentle hand touched the top of his. Your skin ablaze his and it felt wrong to feel like he had once when he didn’t even know you. Not this version of you, a woman he knew nothing about. It didn’t feel right but he wanted nothing more to allow this to go on. To see who you were in this world.

Did he deserve that? After everything that happened.

“Were? I won’t pry but it seems like life has given you a second chance, Logan.” You smiled softly and removed your hand from his, lifting your beer can to him. “You guys saved this world; a second chance is the least the universe can give you. Why not take it?”

Logan chuckled lowly. “The version of you I knew also had a deficiency in reasoning.”

A hard smack landed on his chest, and he laughed, which made you laugh. “Yeah, well, at least I don’t look like that idiot.”

Looking over to where you pointed to Wade, who had decided to show off his hair piece, Logan smirked. “Yeah, that’s fucking terrible.”

The two of you smiled at each other and something clicked in that moment, leaving the both of you quiet until you broke the tension. “To not looking like Wade Wilson.”

Logan clicked his beer against yours and felt a settling in his heart. Maybe he did deserve a second chance, at least, he could start toward earning that second chance. “Amen to that.”

[aliteralsemicolon]

We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend

Part 1 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 2 | See part 3

You and Spencer have convinced yourselves that you’re only meant to be friends despite the strong tension between you two. It only seems to intensify the longer you ignore it, eventually reaching its boiling point and forcing changes in the friendship.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

(but no mentions of pronouns in this so it can be read as gn)

DISCLAIMER This story is SFW but it’s intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING Mentions of: Indirect peer pressure, alcohol/drinking/being drunk, very slight implicated SA (it doesn’t happen), serial killer, kidnapping, torture, murder, stalking, and threats. It’s all barely there and doesn’t really matter to the story tbh. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 9.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Being in love is hard. Being in love with your best friend is harder. It’s a merciless form of torture really, devoting yourself entirely to the person you hold dearest to your heart, but they aren’t yours. It was almost masochistic, standing by to serve him in whatever way you thought he needed. Luckily, you weren’t a masochist. 

Not entirely, at least. 

You were there for him when he needed, offering whatever you had to give, but there were parts of you that you kept guarded. To protect yourself, but more importantly, to protect Spencer. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hear that you were ‘too much’ from passing lovers in your life. A certain level of detachment was necessary to ensure the safety of Spencer’s friendship. He was the most important person in your life. 

Maybe it was the multitude of degrees as a result of his intelligence. He never let you feel stupid or any less intelligent. 

Maybe it was the way his whole body lit up when he shared information he’d stored in that beautiful mind.

Maybe it was the charm in how goofily he carried himself. The way his hands would flail around when he spoke to keep up with the speed his brain moved at. 

Or maybe it was how he made you feel seen. 

How he always knew what to say, what to do. How he remembered little details about you, like how you preferred the window seat on the jet. And how he went out of his way to accommodate the details, like giving up the window seat just so you could sit in it. He was an unusually thoughtful man, with everybody he knew. 

That’s something you had to remind yourself of often. 

He’s like that with everybody. He has an eidetic memory, of course he remembers the little details. 

If only you knew how wrong you were. Spencer was a thoughtful man, there was no doubt about that. Sure he was gifted with an arguably incomparable memory, but unlike all the things he had no choice in remembering, he chose to remember the little details about you. To him you were the closest thing to a real life angel. 

It was the way you were the only person he’d ever met, willing to sit there and listen to him talk for hours. You’d go out of your way to show interest in the things he’d share, even if you didn’t actually have any interest in it.

The way he could swear he saw stars in your eyes whenever he stole an opportunity to stare into them. They would burn brighter if accompanied with the sweet sound of your laughter. 

He felt compelled to accommodate you. Especially when you light up the way you do from such minuscule actions on his part. Spencer loved being the person to bring out your smile, taking any excuse to try and coax one out of you. Even if he’d slightly inconvenience himself at times. His convenience mattered little to him because he knew how much you did for him too. 

Every morning before work you’d make the trip to his favourite coffee shop, getting him scones and coffee exactly to his liking because you knew he had a tendency to skip breakfast. His favourite coffee shop was a fifteen minute drive from your apartment and an extra twenty from Headquarters. You went out of your way to deliver it to him, even reheating the coffee yourself before handing it over. 

Spencer wasn’t alone in recognising your generosity. The entire sixth floor had noticed how both of you subconsciously performed acts of service for each other, even if nobody had brought it up to your faces. 

“I know that look.” Rossi remarks, turning his head towards his raven haired co-worker, eyes on you and Spencer.

“Yea..I just wonder if they know.” Emily mirrors his actions as she gives her own comment on the sight just a few feet in front of her. 

Neither of you realise you have spectators observing your conversation. You’re in your own little bubble at Spencer’s desk, the resident genius seated comfortably with his gaze on you as he speaks. Your focus is entirely on the man across from you, leaning in slightly, perched on the wooden surface. 

“Because stomach acid in the human body is typically 1-2 on the PH scale, it’s capable of dissolving metals such as certain types of stainless steels. Razors for example! The Gastrointestinal Endoscopy journal shared that scientists found that the thickened back of a single-edged blade dissolved just two hours of immersion in stomach acid!” His voice went up a pitch as he spoke and you couldn’t help but smile.

“So theoretically, an unsub could use a razor blade as a murder weapon and potentially eat it to dispose of it?” It was a relatively dumb question, but you just wanted to keep him talking. 

“Well, it’s possible, but realistically I don’t think a razor blade-” 

“Sorry to interrupt my younglings,” A colourful Garcia appears in your bubble and cuts Spencer off, “but I am here to let you know that the team will be going out for drinks, on Rossi, tonight! No exceptions!!”

When your head swivels to Garcia, you also notice the gawking pair not far behind her, shuffling off when they realise they’ve been caught staring. 

“I’ll come, but I won’t be drinking.” Spencer says with an awkward smile. They shift their sights on you for your response. 

“Sorry guys…I already have plans for tonight.” You purse your lips together apologetically. 

“What no! No, no, no! You know how rare these nights can be!” Garcia frowns and grabs your shoulders pleadingly.

“I knowwww…I’m sorry!!”

“Fine, fine, but at least share what’s keeping you busy tonight?” The blonde pokes.

You shift your eyes to Spencer, who’s just staring at you with a curious look and then back to Garcia. 

“Well I have a date-” You begin, but are interrupted by a whispered squeal.

Garcia begins a response, but stops herself when she spots a nonchalant Derek Morgan heading towards the elevators. “We will discuss this in detail during Saturday’s girls night. For now I will accept your excuse and remind you to dress your sexiest! Now excuse me while I go and intercept my sweet chocolate thunder.”

She grips you in a tight hug and scurries off after Morgan. The atmosphere shifts slightly, as you meet Spencer’s eyes awkwardly. 

“You have a date? Why didn’t you mention that” Spencer titters.

“I’m sorry, it just didn’t occur to me.” You try to lie, but Spencer’s expression gives away that he doesn’t believe you. “Okay, okay, I just didn’t wanna say anything because the last time I talked about one of my dates you got all weird and I didn’t want to upset you again.”

“Upset me? I was not upset.” He protests and folds his arms across his chest. 

“Okay what would you call it then?” 

“I wouldn’t call it anything.” 

“Oh really? So you’re not upset that I’m going on a date?”

“Nope. Not at all. I’m interested actually, tell me about him.”

You eye him carefully, trying to figure out where his head is at. Spencer has a tendency to get sassy when he feels defensive. 

“You’re interested? To hear about one of my dates?” You question with playful caution. 

“Yes. I’m always interested in things about you.” He spills. 

Your reaction to his words is immediate, a surprised jump in your features, but you manage to mask it almost just as fast. Spencer’s just as surprised as you. 

“I-I just mean- you know? Because yo-you’re my best friend.” He tries to play it off. 

There’s no way. 

You think to yourself. Spencer definitely didn’t mean it in that way. 

No he definitely didn’t. He just said so himself. You’re his best friend. Spencer Reid does not feel the same way about you.

It stings to admit to yourself, but it’s for the best. Spencer is a smart, handsome, wonderful man with so much to offer. You’re too much work, come with too much baggage, just too much.

“Yea, we’re best friends.” An affirmation more for yourself than him. 

A silence looms as you stare at each other stiffly. 

“Anyways, my date,” you decide not to linger on it for too long, “it’s with that guy I told you about, Nathan.”

“Nathan? Didn’t you go on a date with him last time?” A casual inquiry. 

“Yea!” You squeak enthusiastically, grateful that he had reverted back to his light-hearted self. 

This was something you deeply enjoyed about your friendship. The fact the two of you could flow back into casual conversation no matter what.

“So it’s a second date?”

“Yes! The first one went really well, so I thought why not agree to a second when he asked?”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” 

His approval should feel better than it does. For some reason, it makes you uneasy. Almost as if you don’t want him to approve. 

He has approved though, meaning he isn’t against you dating other people. He doesn’t want you the same way.

“Really?” You want to be sure, scared that you might put him off again.

“Yes! Really! If you’re happy then I’m happy for you.” A fib that you were unaware of. 

In truth, Spencer would rather crawl on the office bathroom floor than see you with some other guy. Fortunately for him, he isn’t actually going to be there to see you with this ‘Nathan’. So he doesn’t need to submit to such an awful torture. Maybe he’s being dramatic, you aren’t his girlfriend. He has no right to feel such a heavy drop in his gut. 

Part of him really is happy for you. He wanted you to feel loved, even if it wasn’t by him. God, how he wished it was by him. If friendship is what he has to settle for to be near you, then so be it. Though at times it feels like it might kill him, you being the closest person in his life, but not close enough to the point where he could call himself yours. 

“REID!”

Spencer jumps at the sound of Morgan’s voice, finding it difficult to focus on his current surroundings. He missed half the team scattering around to different parts of the bar, Morgan now his only company. 

“What’s up?” His expression shifts to a tight-lipped smile.

“Where’s your head at man?” Derek probes.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean I have never seen you this zoned out before. You haven’t checked back in since you sat down.” 

It wasn’t intentional, but since you walked out the doors of the BAU all Spencer’s been able to think about was your date. You probably went straight home to get ready, pulling out all the stops to feel as beautiful as you are. For somebody that can never truly appreciate it, not like he can. 

“I guess I’m just not feeling well.” A pathetic excuse. One Spencer finds himself making whenever he’s pulled out of his thoughts about you. 

Morgan doesn’t believe him. Hell, Spencer doesn’t even believe himself. 

“Kid. You know you can always talk to me right? About anything.” 

“I know. I’m really just tired. Actually- you know what, c-could- could you just tell the others that I’m just not feeling great, I’m- bye Derek.” Spencer stutters as he rushes out of his seat. 

He doesn’t even give the man a chance to respond as he makes his exit out of the bar. He’s lacking the capability to force himself to socialise. The knowledge of you on a date with another man was something he’s been able to handle, but a second date with a man was harder to stomach. You must like him if you’re willing to see him again. 

The ride home feels longer than it actually is. How far had the date gotten? Were you enjoying it? Did Nathan make you laugh the way he could? Spencer might lose his mind. He wondered if you had given Nathan the privilege of touching you. Your skin always looked so soft, his heart panged at the thought. He felt sick. 

You were his best friend. You trusted him. He shouldn’t think this way about you, feel this way about you. Unreciprocated feelings were something Spencer was entirely used to. He’d perfected being able to put the person at the receiving end of his affections in the back of his mind. To ignore until it went away entirely.

Why was it so much harder this time? There is no universe in which you would ever return his love for you. Which is why he needs to force himself to love you from afar. It was a fact Spencer reminded himself of repeatedly. And he would’ve kept at it, if he wasn’t interrupted by the sight of you standing in front of his door as he stepped up his apartment stairs. 

“Hi!” His voice alerts you softly.

“Hi!” You squeak back, turning on your heel to face him. 

He can’t help but note how heavenly you look. It almost knocked the air out of his lungs, except he noticed the poorly wiped tears glistening on your face. He didn’t ask about it, immediately. Instead he just pulled you in for a hug, something he rarely did with others, and unlocked his door as he motioned for you to enter first. Another thing to love about Spencer Reid. 

You step inside, more than familiar with the deep green walls surrounding you. If the stench of liquor wasn’t enough, then the way you stumbled on your way to his couch was all Spencer needed to deduce that you had been drinking. A lot. He walks past you towards his kitchen, returning with a glass of water and painkillers you would definitely need later. 

“Have you eaten?” He asks softly, handing you the glass of water. 

“Um..” you take a sip and pause as you sigh, “yeah.”

The two of you just sit there, silently, stealing small glances at each other and averting your gazes before the other can notice. You know he’s waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to speak first. Except you don’t know what to say. You feel so embarrassed. He probably had better plans for tonight, but here you are, pestering him again. 

“How long were you waiting?” He speaks up once he realises that you aren’t going to.

“Not long, I had actually just gotten there, your timing was really good.” You mumble, forcing an awkward chuckle. 

“Did Nathan drop you off?” Spencer hopes that bringing up your date might give you enough courage to vent. 

“No. No, I walked.” A resigned smile creeps on your face, not wanting to talk about your journey here. “How was your night?”

“Walked?? Alone?? Drunk??” The words seep out of him before he can hold his tongue. “Why didn’t you call me?!”

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to bother you!” You defend. 

But you are bothering him. You’re bothering him right now.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back tears. Guilt creeps inside him. He knows that he’s not the source of your tears, but he didn’t want to make you cry regardless. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he takes hold of your hand and squeezes ever so gently, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Why don’t we play chess? You’re getting better at it, you know?” He adds, thinking of a quick distraction. 

Chess was a favourite pastime of yours with Spencer. You pull your hand out of his grip and use it to rub the opposing arm, his touch overwhelming you. He was too soft with you. You suppose it’s why you seek him out so often. Out of all the men you’ve ever known, Spencer was the only one who knew you. It felt so nice to be known. 

“Y-yea..yes. Please. Let’s uh- let’s play chess.” You stumble on your words, eager to think about anything else. 

Spencer retrieves his mini chess board from his satchel and prepares the board between the two of you. Neither of you utter a word as you play your moves. You appreciate the silence, because you know that you can’t say or do the wrong thing. 

“You’re going easy on me.” You break the silence anyway, scared that the silence might bore him. 

“You’re holding back.” He argues and you finally meet his eyes for the first time since you started the game.

“No, I’m just drunk.” You counter.

“I was the one at a bar but you’re the one who’s drunk.” It’s a stupid comment, slightly cringy even, but he earns a genuine laugh out of you. 

His dorkiness was part of his charm. Your laughter makes him smile. A comfortable silence fills the atmosphere as your eyes meet again. Spencer’s eyes were so beautiful, you could drown in them. Spencer in general was so beautiful, in every way possible. 

“It’s your move.” He has to remind you, worried that if he’s allowed to look at you for two long he might do something really stupid.

“I-uhm- I had a shitty date.” You owe him an explanation for ruining his night.

He doesn’t respond, not wanting to say anything that might make you close up again. He wanted to be the person you talked to about your problems. He wanted to be your solace. 

“It started really well. I thought I could see something more, but it turns out he just wanted the same thing as all the others. Thought that maybe if he got me drunk enough..but it obviously didn’t work” You try to lighten the weight of your words by laughing with them. “It’s probably for the best, you know? I don’t think it would’ve worked out regardless, I couldn’t stop-”

Stop comparing him to you. 

Normally, Spencer is the one with the tendency to ramble, but the alcohol wasn’t making it easy for you to shut up. You just hope he doesn’t realise where you were headed with that statement. You kept comparing your date to Spencer. Everything Nathan did today was a direct reminder of things Spencer would never do. 

“Check.” You choose to stop making a fool of yourself there.

Spencer’s breath hitches. Not because he picked up on what you hoped he didn’t, rather because he was concerned by the possible implications of what you said.

“Did he..did he try to-” 

“No. Oh my God, no!” You cut him off before he can finish the thought. 

His shoulders relax and the silence resumes. For the first time since he met you, Spencer found himself speechless. He didn’t know whether to comfort you or give you advice. Part of him felt selfishly relieved, at least he didn’t have to worry about some other guy anymore. The other part, the part that felt disgusted with himself for even thinking about himself right now, felt a mixed range of hurt for you. 

It started with resentment for the negligence Nathan displayed with you and ended with sorrow for how easily you brushed off your hurt. While he ran all the possibilities of the best thing to say, you ran all the possibilities of leaving his apartment in the least inconvenient way for him, interpreting his silence as irritation. 

He should be irritated, you’re disrupting his night. 

You need to leave before he can tell you to. Just as you’re about to mutter some bull-shit excuse, Spencer gently cups your hand with both of his hands and locks eyes with you. His voice is so painstakingly gentle, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Nathan and anyone else who has ever allowed themselves to be blinded by their shallow urges is an absolute fool. Idiot. Moron. There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how stupid they are for missing out on knowing you as you are. I’ve experienced a lot of good things in my life, none have ever brought me as much joy as you do. I can’t even begin to explain how deserving you are of love and it’s heartbreaking to see that you’ve convinced yourself of the opposite.”

It’s your turn to be speechless. Of the list of things you didn’t expect, this wasn’t even on the list. You should have expected it. It was in Spencer’s nature to prove you wrong for underestimating his tenderness. He felt perhaps he went too far. Said too much.

“I-I just mean-” 

“Why are you so nice to me?” Your heart feels like it’s lacking space inside your chest, tears threaten to build. 

“Because you’re my f-friend.” He struggles to utter the last word.

“Friend..” You nervously laugh.

The meaning behind his words don’t register in your drunken state. All your focus is diverted to the feeling of his calloused skin on yours. The liquor in your veins awakens dazed boldness. One you’d be too wary of displaying otherwise. You allow your fingers to dance against his, an act of intimacy not reserved for friends. He doesn’t stop you either. 

“You know…” 

it’s almost not even a whisper, 

“...if I wasn’t who I am…” 

but Spencer was an expert in tuning out everything else to focus solely on your voice,

“...maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

And the world, as Spencer knows it, stops. Your words ring in his ears and he’s sure his heartbeat has become audible. 

“Y-you love me?” He repeats, unable to suppress his need to hear those words again.

The validity of your confession doesn’t bear any weight until you hear it from him, your motions against his hand coming to an immediate stop. You shift line of sight to his face faster than you can blink, waiting for his reaction so you can scramble to save your friendship. 

Parroting your words wasn’t enough, Spencer couldn’t believe it. He had never considered it feasible for you to love him. He had spent so many sleepless nights tormenting himself over the fact. He wanted so badly to cup your face and tell you about all the thoughts of you that consumed his mind. To say those three words back. 

“You can’t love me.” Instead he said four words that strained your hope for salvation. He’d shoot himself if he had any realisation of what he had just done. 

“No, of-of c-course, I meant like an- a- amazing fr-friend. You k-know, like the kind of bes-best friend you only mean once in your lif-life.” And you unknowingly shattered that hope in him. 

Silence has never been more deafening. Neither of you can look away from each other. There’s so much to say but how can it be said now? 

“Right. No, yeah. Of course.” He forces out. 

A fake understanding between you two. The expressions canvassing both of your faces display anything but understanding. Though you’re no longer physically touching, you’re still holding each other in your view. A few moments pass and Spencer is the first to look away. 

“You must be tired-” He starts.

You were still disrupting his space.

“Right, I’ll go-” You stand, ready to rush out the door.

“No-no.” He sighs. “Stay please. It’s late and you’re drunk-”

“No I’ve alrea-” You try to protest, not wanting him to go out of his way for you any longer.

“Please. I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re safe.” He begs, not just with his words but his eyes. 

“Okay.” You murmur. “But I’m taking the couch.”

Under any other circumstances, Spencer would have resisted you taking the couch. Today? He was utterly drained.

“Alright. I’ll get you something comfortable to change into while I set up the couch. You know where the bathroom is.” He sports a weak smile, unable to meet your eyes again. 

He watches you disappear into the bathroom after handing you some spare clothes. He sets the couch with the pillows and blankets he’d reserved for you. He bought them after you’d slept over a few times at the start of your friendship, wanting you to sleep as comfortably as possible so you would keep coming back.

You’d just broken his heart into a million pieces, so fine that he’d never be able to put it back together whole, but he still couldn’t not exert the utmost care when it came to you. 

In the bathroom, you fight back tears again as you fumble into his clothes. You’d worn this particular sweatshirt before, because you didn’t anticipate staying the night. It was never planned, often you two just lost track of time because you spent too long engaged in conversations. After a while you started leaving things at his place so you had an excuse to keep coming back. 

You can handle just being his friend, but you don’t think you can handle not being anything to him. Was there something you could do so you didn’t have to stop coming back? 

When you came out and saw your makeshift bed for the night, you felt slightly fuzzy inside. Spencer had already gone to bed but he’d covered the cushions of the couch with a thick blanket and two fluffy pillows. A fresh glass of water was waiting for you on the coffee table with the pills from earlier. 

Maybe things were okay after all? Surely he wouldn’t have put as much care into your comfort if they weren’t. So why couldn’t you shake this feeling of dread inside you? Why did the air feel so thick?

You spend most of what’s left of the night awake, curled into yourself on his couch, muffling your sobs. You’ve ruined another good thing. Pushed away probably the most important person in your life. You knew he was too good for you, he could never feel the same way. You got greedy.

Just a few feet away from you, Spencer’s in the exact same position as you on his bed. No rejection has ever hurt as much as when it came from you. He knew you were drunk, he knew you could never actually feel the same way. But aren’t drunk words sober thoughts? Statistics definitely agree they are.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding headache. Then the dry mouth. Spencer had left a glass of water, painkillers and a bagel on the coffee table. You reach for the pill first, hoping that the faster you take it, the faster it kicks in. As you practically pour the water down your throat, you see a little note next to the bagel. 

“Paper work day at the office. Make sure to eat and drink lots of water. Will tell Hotch that you’ll be late/taking the day off. - Spencer”

Thoughtful as ever. The bagel was still warm so he must’ve left recently. It was strange that he’d left without waking you up like he normally does. Your first bite of the bread jolts the memories of the night before and it hits you harder than the headache. Your appetite faded and the remorse set in. 

Shit. 

You and Spencer have always been able to bounce back, but the damage you caused last night might be irreparable. Say Spencer does forget about it, can you? You always knew he couldn’t love you back, but you never imagined that he would forbid you to love him in the first place. As much as you didn’t want to face Spencer right now, work was the best place for you to be if you didn’t want to go mad thinking about last night. 

You’d have to change into appropriate work attire first, so a trip back to your place was warranted. The whole uber ride back to your apartment you think of things to say when you see him. Things didn’t need to change. You had to apologise, obviously, but there had to be some way of apologising while maintaining normalcy. The best start was getting him his coffee and scones like you usually did. 

Meanwhile at the office, Spencer was stuck on the same page of his file. It had never taken him more than a few seconds to turn a page, but he wasn’t actually reading the words. You took up every thought in his mind again. He wondered if you were awake yet, if you remembered the events of the night before. 

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he initially heard you say it, all he heard was that you love him.

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he said it out loud to himself all he wanted to do was tell you how much he does love you, but the chance was ripped away from him just as fast as it was given to him. Did you even care? Or was it just an insignificant event to you? It was a lot easier to accept that you could never love him the same way before he had a taste of what it would be like if you did. 

There was this moment, when your fingers were fiddling with his and you said those words, just a second where he experienced what it could be like. He can’t go back to how it was, not now that he knows how it could’ve been. In order to protect himself from unravelling completely he has to let you go. An impossible task, considering you work together. 

“I brought coffee.” Your expression is tentative. 

Spencer looks up to see you standing above him, holding his daily coffee and scones in hand. There are no traces of the night before to be seen on you. Your makeup is fresh and you’d clearly changed clothes. You looked perfectly angelic, as always. If it were any other day, your gesture would’ve made him feel like the most special person in the world. Today, it felt like the cruellest thing in the world. 

“Do you wanna come with me while I heat it up? Or should I just bring it back to you?” You prompt. 

“No.” He rises from his seat and pries it out from your hand. “I can do it. Thank you.” 

Before you comprehend what’s happened, Spencer’s walked away. You try to follow him to the kitchen, but when you get there he’s nowhere to be seen. This seems to be a trend for the next few days. You find some excuse to try for conversation and he shuts it down after about one sentence. That’s if you’re able to get close enough to him for that sentence. It’s becoming more and more obvious that he’s avoiding you. 

You decide to give him space after about a week of it, wishing everyday that you could go back in time and change things. Around the two week mark, he starts giving you the cold shoulder, not even so much as looking at you. He couldn’t look at you. It was taking everything in him to force himself away from you, but it was easier than being near you. You weren’t the only one who could feel this change in your dynamic, the team was just as confused.

They’d all tried to investigate the root of this shift, individually directing casual questions to both of you in conversations. You’d both just brushed it off, not wanting to be the burden of the topic. Spencer had been doing so well in keeping his distance, but eventually, Hotch made the decision that enough is enough.

The BAU was in Chicago this week, hunting down another unsub who thought he was too smart to get caught. This was one of those cases that would stick with you for a while, so tensions were already high amongst everyone. Nobody was more on edge than Spencer and now he was forced in a car with you, driving around the city, chasing leads. 

Rarely did he ever get behind the wheel, but he knew he would need any distraction he could get. Driving was supposed to mean he wouldn’t be stuck in the passenger seat, fighting the urge to stare at you. Now he was fighting the urge to stare at you from the driver's seat. He hated being in love. You were trying your best to stay silent and looking out the window at the passing buildings. 

“Are you hungry?” 

That’s the first time in a month that Spencer’s been the first one to speak. He tried not to. Like he tried not to pay attention to your routine. It wasn’t possible. No matter how hard he tried, there were just some things Spencer couldn’t not do in regards to you. The most important thing was that he couldn’t not care. 

He knew you hadn't been eating properly. You had a tendency to forget about your well-being during hard cases. You were probably hungry. Somebody had to take care of you because you most definitely weren’t going to. He was right. The thought of food made your stomach growl. It was wicked timing. 

“No, thank you.” You lie anyway, not wanting to inconvenience him further. 

“Why won’t you stop lying to me?” He mutters in annoyance. 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, turning to look at him. 

He doesn’t look away from the road, pretending to not have heard you. 

“Seriously?” You sputter. “You’re ignoring me now?”

You huff as you throw yourself back against your seat. He didn’t mean to ignore you, he just didn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.” You mumble. 

It was already daunting when he was barely acknowledging you, but refusing to acknowledge all together? When you were the only person next to him? That was just vicious. You knew you’d fucked up, but was this necessary? You had already spent so much of yourself trying to keep it together, being confined in this car with him would waste your efforts. 

“Pull over.” You say in the kindest way possible, which was immensely harsh. “Spencer Reid pull this damn car over or I swear to fucking God I am going to jump out of it.”

That definitely caught his attention. In all your time together, you had never spoken to him in that way. You had definitely never addressed him by his full name. He brings the car to a halt on the side of the curb and finally turns to face you. You push the door open and hop out, slamming it behind you. 

“What are yo-” Spencer starts, but you’re already walking away. He quickly gets out and follows behind you. It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you and he stops you by the arm when he realises saying your name won’t make you turn back around. 

“Don’t touch me!” You yank your arm out of his grip and keep walking. 

“Where are you going?!” 

“Anywhere you’re not.” 

He tries you by your name again, but when it fails again, he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You hadn’t noticed that you’d walked into an alleyway. 

“Get back in the car.” He demands.

“I am not getting in a car with you.” You have never been this upset with him before. 

“You’re being childish!” He snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Oh I’m being childish?! Spencer, believe me when I say I mean this is the nicest way I possibly can right now – FUCK OFF!” You push his hands off you and take a step back, but he just grabs your wrist.

“Listen to me,” he urges, “there is a serial killer that’s kidnapping women in broad daylight, torturing them and murdering them. And he’s threatened each of us individually during the course of this investigation. You cannot just be walking around alone, in a city you hardly know.”

“Don’t explain the details of this case to me, I’m well aware.” You snarl, your irritation increasing tenfold.

“Then why are you being so difficult?!” He screeches.

“Why are you–fucking hell, I cannot keep doing this. I’m not getting in the car when you won’t talk to me. Hell, you won’t even so much as look at me!” 

“Fine! You wanna talk? We’ll talk! Just–get back in the car. Please.” He sighs in defeat. You still don’t budge, so he pleads softer. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, stealing your wrist out of his grasp. Spencer doesn’t move until you do, both of you silently making your way to the car. 

You’re both silent initially, not knowing where exactly to go from here. There’s one thing you know for sure, you won’t be the first to speak. Spencer catches on to that fast. 

“What do you wanna talk about?” He snarls, shrugging his arms. 

“Cut the shit, I won’t get back in this car if I get out for a second time.” You’re not in the mood. The two of you had avoided this conversation for long enough, it was now or never. Some part of you wished for never. 

“Fine. Did you mean it?” He shoots, briskly. 

“What?” You didn’t know which part he meant. 

“That you love me specifically as an ‘amazing friend’, I believe was your wording.” His voice cracks and it causes a shift in his behaviour. He’s no longer hostile, just hurt. 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” 

In your rush to get him talking, you hadn’t actually realised that you weren’t ready to talk about this. You were stalling. 

“Answering a question with a question.” 

This doesn’t feel like a conversation. More like an interrogation, except you’re the unsub. He scoffs bitterly at your silence. 

“Spencer, don’t–” 

“No, you’re the one who wanted to talk! You were so insistent, in fact, that you would have rather made yourself a serial killer’s target then get in a car with me if I didn’t talk to you. And all of a sudden you’re speechless?” He snaps at you. 

“Yes! I was the one who wanted to talk! I just– I can’t understand what I’ve done to make you hate me so much? Was it because I said I love you? Did it really upset you that much?” You were both shouting from frustration. 

“You think I’m upset because you love me?!” Spencer scoffs in disbelief. 

“Aren’t you?!” You bitterly laugh. 

Spencer rubs his temples and squeezes his eyes shut, mumbling some under his breath. He’s genuinely never been this frustrated in his life. 

“Are you being serious?” His voice strains in pitch, as he tries to keep himself a lot calmer than he feels. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”

“Some sort of joke–”

“Do not interrupt me again. You wanna run away from this? Fine. But you will listen because I will not have this conversation again.” His tone is sharp, like a blade being held against your throat. It definitely shuts you up.

“Talk. Okay, let’s talk about how I have spent the last four years watching you allow undeserving men to walk all over you, letting them treat you like you’re worth nothing. I damn near drove myself insane trying to figure out why. Why is it something you accept for yourself? And then I realised– that’s how you see yourself. You actually hate yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself you deserve it! Do you realise how infuriating that is?!

Especially because it’s the furthest thing from the truth! Still, I watched you throw yourself into this vicious cycle over and over again. You gave yourself away to those idiots, knowing that they didn’t have good intentions, but you still hoped it would be different every time. I mean you’re a fucking profiler for God’s sake! How can you expect others to love you if you can’t even love yourself? 

That’s not even the worst part! You’re so desperate for their acceptance that you continuously neglect the acceptance you already have from the people who love you. People like Emily, Penelope, Derek– the team– people like– people like me. I mean I’ve always known that you didn’t love me as anything more than a friend, but your constant reminders feel like a punch to the gut! Is it that embarrassing for you to love me as anything more?

I’ve survived way worse things, but this is the cruellest thing I’ve ever been through. Because it’s coming from you! I just never expected it’d be from you.” He’s practically hyperventilating for air by the time his speech comes to a stop, the vein in his forehead more prominent than usual.

Your jaw is tense and restless, twitching from anger. Some part of you still wants to keep this friendship. The louder part knows that there’s no going back from this. You’re not entirely sure you want to go back. Your entire body is shaking from rage. The first rule of your friendship was no profiling. Not only did he break that rule, he used the profile against you as if you actually were an unsub he was interrogating. 

“That’s not fair”

His eye twitches at your response. 

“Not? Fair?” Spencer grumbles in pauses.

“No, that's not fair!” You cry out. “It’s your turn to listen.”

It doesn’t feel like there’s any oxygen left to breathe in the car.

“Self loathing? Spencer, that's your projection! You love too hard and nobody’s ever loved you back the same way. But just because you lack things you want in your life doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me! And all this talk about love, but none of it makes any sense. You think I’m embarrassed of loving you? Is that how shallow you think I am?! You’re the one who told me that I can’t love you. God, you are the most duplicitous person I’ve ever met! I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder because I love you as an ‘amazing friend’? Because you love me and you think I’ve been neglecting you?!”

You had never spoken to anyone this way in your life. There was so much truth to Spencer’s words, but he had no right. He’d touched every nerve in your body without ever laying a hand on you. Up until roughly twenty minutes ago, being seen by Spencer was your favourite thing in the entire world. Now? You’d never hated the feeling more in your life. 

Spencer squeezes his hand into a fist, knuckles going white and releases his fingers like if he were aggressively squishing a stress ball. If asked about a month ago, he would never in a million years think that your friendship would manage to dissipate in just a few seconds. He didn’t think he could associate the word love with you anymore.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I do not love you. I do not love anything about you. Actually, I hate you. I hate how sweet you pretend to be. I hate the stupid morning coffee you bring me, nothing tastes more bitter. I hate to admit this but you’re right; everything about you is a brutal reminder of all the good things I can never have and I despise you for it.” He spits his words out with extreme tension in his blood vessels. 

“I can’t say I’ve known what it feels like to truly loathe someone before I met you.” You fire back, breathlessly, not having it in you to spare any more words for him. 

You’re not exactly sure how long the two of you have been sitting there just glaring at each other. Only when Spencer’s phone rings do you two look away. 

“Reid.” He answers the call. “Yea, she’s still here. We’re on our way back now.”

The ride back to the precinct was silent. Even as you regrouped with the rest of the team, you acknowledged everybody but each other. The team was instantly alert to the change, but no one mentioned it at the time because of the high stress of the case. You wrapped the case up a few days later and only then did the questions start making their way around. 

“Is everything okay between you two?”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“What happened between you and Reid?”

“What’s up with Boy Wonder over there?”

You didn’t entertain any of them, Spencer had taken up enough time in your life. You refused to talk about him, look at him or acknowledge him at all. He shared that same incentive. Another three weeks passed as the team watched what was once the closest duo in the BAU, pretend that their counterpart didn’t exist. 

If one of you was in a room and noticed the other enter, you’d walk out without drawing attention to the situation. When leaving the room was not an option, you either went as far in the opposite corner of the room as you could or you’d simply pretend the other wasn’t present just a few metres away. You wouldn’t discuss intel with each other about cases, sharing your findings with anybody else. 

Since Chicago, Hotch only assigned you with Spencer once more, but quickly realised that wasn’t going to help when both of you begged to be assigned with someone else privately. If you were in a discussion with someone and they started talking about Spencer, you’d tune out entirely. After a while the hating game got exhausting.

Spencer hated pretending that he hated you. He felt an immense amount of guilt for the things he’d said, but it was too late to take it back. He thought it would be easier to deal with his feelings if he wasn’t around you all the time, but it was just as difficult as before. You still lit up the dull grey rooms of the building. The only difference was that now he had to watch you shine from afar. 

In truth, you didn’t hate Spencer either. What you actually hated was that you didn’t hate Spencer. You still caught yourself staring at him for long periods of time. There were days when you’d go to his favourite coffee shop before work and buy his order, only to give it away to somebody on the street because you didn’t want to ruin Spencer’s day with the bitterness of your coffee. 

By the fifth week since you had gotten back from Chicago, you and Spencer were no longer ignoring each other as much. You’d gotten into a routine of professionalism for the sake of the team, only talking to each other about cases when necessary. That didn’t stop you from subconsciously showing subtle gestures of love. These were a lot quieter than the gestures you showed when you were friends. 

You’d make sure that there was always a fresh pot of coffee in the office kitchen, so Spencer would have it ready to drink whenever he needed. He’d make sure that the snack cupboard was always filled with your favourite snacks because he knew you liked having something to munch on when catching up on paperwork. You’d keep extra painkillers in Garcia’s lair knowing Spencer would retreat there when a migraine hit.

He’d ensure the aircon was always set to room temperature, you get uncomfortable if the room was too cold. Both of you were aware of the little gestures too, no one else knew your truly niche preferences. Neither of you was brave enough to actually go up to the other, though. It was all too much for you. No matter what was said, he was still your thoughtful Spencer deep down and it killed you.

You’d tried to talk to Spencer a few times, building up the courage for days in advance. As soon as he noticed you heading in his direction, he nearly bolted in the other direction. His avoidance didn’t end at the office. You recently became aware that Penelope had been scheduling rosters to invite you and Spencer to outings, trying to ensure you were present for equal amounts of time. 

You were chilling at her desk in wait for her, when you noticed a little note with your name next to a date and time. Under that was Spencer’s name with a separate date and time. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” She greets you.

“I needed to talk to you…Penelope what is this?” You hold up the little pink sticky note.

Penelope sets her octopus mug down and takes the note from your hand. 

“This? This is nothing.” She fumbles a bit as she speaks.

“Garcia?” You purposefully speak with warning.

“Okay! Okay! But you didn’t hear it from me! We’ve kinda been taking turns hanging out with you and Spencer sometimes. But it’s because we love you and don’t want to make either of you-” She starts a panicked tangent.

“Garcia!” You interrupt her before she sends herself into a spiral. “There’s no need to do all of this. Yes Spencer and I aren’t close anymore, but you guys don’t need to go out of your way for us.”

“Well..” She grits her teeth and tilts her head.

“What?” 

“We didn’t really mean to. It’s just we noticed that Spencer would never come if you were going. And both of you just straight up refuse to talk about it, so this was the best we could come up with.” 

“Oh. Penny, I’m sorry that you guys have had to do that.” That was all you could say, your head hanging in guilt.

“Can you at least tell me why you won’t talk about it? I mean it makes sense for Boy Wonder, he’s always been stubbornly private, but you’ve never not told me anything!” 

You look towards Garcia again, thinking for a minute. You didn’t know exactly why you refused to talk about it. 

“I don’t know, honestly. I just don’t want to talk about it, if that makes sense?” You pull your friend in for a hug as an apology. 

You felt awful leaving her lair without giving her a proper answer or a resolution. It didn’t matter how professional you acted, this rift would always impact your friends and your work life. 

Spencer would always impact everything in your life. 

The guilt didn’t spare you that night, creeping its way to the forefront of your mind every few minutes. It had been four months since your last fight. It was the longest you’d gone without Spencer. This had to end for the sake of the team. That was how you found yourself standing at his door once again. After a few minutes you finally knock. You didn’t know what you were going to say, honestly you just wanted to run before he answered. You hear the locks being undone, but it’s not Spencer who answers when that door finally swings open.

“Yes?” 

It’s a woman, one you've never seen before. You’re taken aback and look around to make sure you got the right apartment. This was definitely Spencer’s apartment, you’d been here a hundred times before. And some woman was answering his door for him. Some very beautiful woman. 

“Can I help you?” She follows up, looking you up and down. 

“Hi, yeah, sorry, is–um– is Spencer here?”

“Who’s asking?” She’s definitely not very friendly. 

“We work together. Is he here or not?” You didn’t have the patience for this, annoyance seeping through your pores. 

“Who’s at the door?” His voice emerges from behind her and he finally shows up. “Oh.”

“Hey.” You glance away as soon as you see him. 

“Could you give me a minute?” He turns to the woman. She flashes a sickly sweet smile and kisses his cheek before disappearing inside. Spencer shuffles out to the corridor, closing the door behind him.

“That–uh–that was–” He stops himself, clearing his throat and switching to his professional voice. “What are you doing here?”

Cold.

“I was hoping we could talk.” You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to play off what you just saw. 

“What more is there to say?” 

“About the team. I came over to, um, apologise and maybe move past things for the sake of the team.” You were looking everywhere but at him. 

“Honestly?” His eyes are on you though. “I don’t care. And even if I did, I don’t want to hear it.” 

He starts to walk away, but turns back and mentions your name like it’s the most vile word in the dictionary. “Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

With that he re-enters his apartment, leaving you standing in the hallway. It’s hard to imagine that this man was once your best friend. If you didn’t know about all the good times, you wouldn’t have believed it. Every tear that your body could ever produce streamed out of you for the rest of the night. Once you had made it back to your apartment, they broke out in sobs. In your line of work, you had survived being shot at, almost blown up and even a kidnapping once.

The man you loved with every fibre of your being looking at you like you were less than filth under a person's shoes was your breaking point. There was no way you were going to face him again. You needed to forget about Spencer Reid, which meant a fresh start. This city was a constant reminder of his essence, you couldn’t stay. You plopped down on your bed with your work bag, reaching into it for your work computer. Hands twitching as you type. 

You remember being so proud when David Rossi recommended you for the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit. You were even more ecstatic when Hotch actually requested your transfer there. You had worked your ass off for it. It was there that you met the infamous Doctor Reid. He was much different than how you had imagined him. He was so charming, friendly and so down to earth, not liking him wasn’t an option. The two of you had so much in common, despite being so different, it was the foundation for your friendship. His caring nature pulled you in further, you soon found yourself deeply in love with him. 

Tears flooded your keyboard as all your memories with him flash through your brain. His friendship was a beautiful bonus of the job you once loved, you never thought that he would become the reason you’d leave it. Yet here you were, furiously drafting your resignation to Agent Hotchner. There were so many signals in your brain telling you to back off, to open a bottle of wine and drown your sorrows instead, but your heart didn’t feel like that would be enough. Your love for your job didn’t outweigh your desire to run.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and being in love with him is an excruciating torture. One that you can no longer endure. You had never been more sure of anything as you are at this moment and you weren’t going to give yourself time to change your mind. Your time with Spencer and, as a consequence, your time at the BAU had come to an end. Another memory flashes through your mind as you sign the letter off with your name. A case in Boston had gone wrong and you were really hung up on it. Spencer, in an attempt to help you move on, shared a quote with an author he had recently read. You bitterly chuckle to yourself at this recall and press send with no second thought.

 “Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” - C.S. Lewis.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, friends to enemies, mutual pining, hurt, angst no comfort, whump (maybe idk), Reader & Spencer are both idiots, they should probably consider therapy actually, Spencer is a sassy little shit, but really just needs a hug and a class on communication. 

AN - You’ve heard of enemies to lovers/friends, now I present to you the exact same thing in reverse (been done time and time again, I’m not in any way original <3). You can blame Ariana Grande for this one. Sorry that I haven't posted, I've had insane writers block. I might be slightly incapable of shorter word counts, I’ll try to improve that.  I apologise for grammar/anything that does not make sense, I am both an idiot and also was dealing with a bad case of the flu when I wrote this. I’d like to thank @reidmotif for curing my writer's block and inspiring me on the second half of this fic. Thank you @starstruckbambi for proof reading this.

Drop thoughts & feelings so I can ponder on them. Always remember that I’m in your walls. 

Thank you for reading!

[paarksunghoon]

Sunghoon trying to stay sane and respectful but your love for mini skirts and barely there tops are testing his patience day by day. He's not a horn dog but God when you press against him, so soft, so pretty and oh so naive..do you not notice your entire cleavage hanging out for his eyes to drink in, or the skirt riding up your luscious thighs as you rant about your day?

as someone who wears mini skirts all the time…nbgngngn. i’m also pretty high but reading this really put a number on me so sorry for typos lol

***

Sunghoon is a skirt chaser.

He’s always loved seeing girls wearing them since it made their legs look longer. It didn’t matter much to him—short girls or tall girls—he loved seeing ass peeking out from under the skirt and how they’d always tug at the hem to pull it down. Sunghoon doesn’t date much either (although that definitely wasn’t because nobody wanted him like that either; he wasn’t looking for that type of commitment).

He loved the kind of skirts that paired well for going out. Sure, the solid color staples pieces were cute. But the way silk touches the skin and how hips sway in these fabrics was enough to make his mouth salivate.

When you started wearing them, Sunghoon became perplexed.

You, his best friend since twelve, seemed to have ditched jeans and long dresses for short skirts and baby tees. In the past few months, he’s seen you switch up your wardrobe to the point where he was sure you had more than enough mini skirts to last you a lifetime. They came in all colors and styles, one for every color underneath the rainbow and then some. His friends all noticed this too, eyes following your ass every time you walked in front of them. That made him mad.

The thing is, you have an amazing ass and your tits always sit so pretty. He tries not to stare and gawk at you every time you wear these kinds of clothes. You keep it fairly tame when you’re in broad daylight and push the boundaries on a night out. You don’t seem to care that his friends stare at you every time you try to cover yourself up from a gust of wind or when you bend down. Sunghoon has probably seen your panties too many times.

He really doesn’t understand why all of these feelings are bubbling up. He’s seen you in bikinis and didn’t react like this. Sunghoon is confused but that doesn’t stop his dick from getting hard every time he pictures your outfits when he’s in the safety of his bedroom.

His favorite way to get off is by pushing his back against the bed frame and spreading his legs, holding his fist in a circle and he pumps himself up and down. Sunghoon pictures you riding him in one of your infamous mini skirts, looking up at the ceiling and imagining what you’d look like on top of him. He thinks about how he’d look down and the dirty affair would be covered by the fabric, as if thinking about fucking your best friend wasn’t weird.

Sunghoon is pulled back to reality when you squeeze his bicep in lieu of a greeting.

“Do you have our tickets?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. “Jesus, Y/N. You need to warn a guy before you creep up on them.”

“All I did was touch your arm!” His cheeks feel hot as you laugh. “Were you in deep thought, or something?”

His eyes flicker to the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you wear but scoffs, playing it off. “Nah. You’re as quiet as a mouse.”

“Well this mouse wants to go inside.”

You don’t wait for him to answer you. Sunghoon feels you tug him by the hand towards the security line in front of the concert venue. You’ve been a bit more physical with him lately, tugging on his arm and sifting your fingers through his hair whenever he’d lay his head on top of yours. He only ever means to for a brief second in the way friends do, but he hesitates to pull away once you tug at his roots.

The artist is a band you two discovered a few years back and he was in charge of buying the concert tickets for the both of you. Sunghoon sees the fruit of his labor pay off when you’re both standing inside after you both pass through security. The venue is crowded and small, but you’re sure everybody is too high out of their minds to notice people bumping into them anyway.

As the two of you walk closer towards the middle, it starts to get tighter. Sunghoon moves you in front of him and puts his hands on your waist to guide you and doesn’t mind that your arms are resting on top of his.

You don’t move away from him once you’ve joined others either. He noticed that you’re a bit shorter than everyone else around you. “Do you want to get on my shoulders during your favorite songs?”

“No, that’s okay. I want to dance.”

He looks down at your skirt. “Mhm, let me know if you change your mind.

The two of you wait until the show begins and you’re talking to him about how excited you are for tonight but all he can think about is how he could cop a feel if he really wanted to. The skirt you’re wearing provides him easy access to touch you but he refuses to act on his urges, often flexing his fingers to calm himself down.

Halfway through the show and everyone is having a great time. You’ve danced for an hour straight and feel your legs wobbling after jumping and screaming the lyrics to Sunghoon. He’s a bit taken aback when you rest your back against his chest but tries not to think too much into it.

But you stay like that for a while and he can feel the fabric of your skirt. He toys with it absentmindedly as he nods his head to the melody until he feels your legs tensing against him. When he looks down, your thighs are squished together.

Fuck. He wonders if you’re horny.

Sunghoon hooks his chin over your shoulder and peeks down below to where his hands graze the hem of your mini skirts. When you don’t motion for him to move away, he grunts when his hands start to disappear and moans directly in your ear when his fingers touch your panties. It’s only then does he realize how wet you are.

His other arm is secured over your waist and you grip onto him at the sudden contact across your blooming core. He swipes his index and middle fingers back and forth to gauge just how wet you’ve become, smearing it all over your panties. It brings a gasp out of you and he pushes his lap against your ass.

It’s too much and he’s too hard. Neither of you are paying much attention to the show anymore, too wrapped up in your own little world to focus on anything else. Sunghoon nearly moans out loud when he realizes you’re allowing him to hump you from behind.

“Are you trying to ruin this friendship?”

Sunghoon feels you nod against him and the two of you head out of the venue and into his car. He tries to keep it in his pants on the ten minute drive back to his apartment. You don’t fuss when Sunghoon shoves his hand between your legs and keeps rubbing over your pussy as he drives, one hand on the wheel while he plays with you. Your best friend bites his lip and tenses when arousal gushes out of you.

“Recline and open your legs wider, baby.” You do as he says and he pats your clit twice. “Good girl, listening to me like that.” He switches his ministrations and brings his thumb to rub over your clit in back and forth motions. “Need to make sure you stay wet.”

And stay wet you do. You’re wet all the way home where he locks the two of you in his place until he’s dropping to his knees and pushing your chest against the wall. Sunghoon puts his face between your legs and licks up the arousal clinging to your panties while spreading your cheeks apart with his big hands, squeezing when you yelp.

He pulls the pathetic fabric aside and sticks his tongue into you, prying yourself open for his viewing. His warmth breath fans over your core and it has you pushing back against his face until his tongue licks you up in repeated motions.

Sunghoon doesn’t really care that he’s too horny for foreplay and neither do you, apparently, because when you hear sunghoon unzip his pants and take them off, you’re taking your panties off and taking your shoes off too. He grabs himself and aligns his tip with your hole before pushing all of himself inside.

You’re so wet. It’s so hot. He fucks you like he’s got enough stamina to last a lifetime and your tits bounce against the walls at the pace he’s set. He pulls back far enough that he nearly slips out every time but without fail, Sunghoon will make sure his dick stays wet the entire time you’re with him.

He pulls you back onto the couch with his cock still lodged inside of you, manhandling your body until he’s got you on his lap and your feet are placed by his knees. Sunghoon pushes his hips upwards and fucks you like this, balls slapping your clit with every thrust. He moans when you moan, the emptiness of his apartment filled up by erotic noises that only spur on his orgasm.

Your release triggers his. When he feels your cum seeping down onto the base, Sunghoon shoots his thick ropes into you but doesn’t stop thrusting. Albeit lazier and more random, he keeps his frantic pace and lets you dig your fingers into him while you wonder how your best friend made you cum so fast.

“Fuck!” you moan when Sunghoon pulls out just to push himself back in once he’s made your body lay in front of him.

“You’re so fucking sexy in these things.” He acknowledges the skirt by flipping the fabric with his fingers. Sunghoon doesn’t give you enough time to reply but you’re too busy moaning to care about the consequences anyway. “Wear them more often and I’ll fuck you like this every time.”

Since when is your best friend so good at dirty talk?!

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