#but i too often have to remind myself that me writing is supposed to be fun and not a fucking race

[lale-txt]

it's been over a week but i legit haven't stopped thinking about this

[euphorajeon]

if it's a dream (i'll come around)

— request: jeongguk + yes or no - jungkook

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff

— word count: 3.1k

— warnings/tags: idol!jk, college student!oc, best friend!jk, most likely inaccurate desc of new york, jk is still pining, jk orders food excessively (again), cliches (sorry)

— summary: something in the new york air makes jeongguk feel a rush: a rush to admit, a rush to tell, a rush to take a leap. he's just not sure whether you feel it too.

— author's note: it's finally here!! i'm sorry for taking so long to write this request. thank you areyousure!jeongguk for inspiring me to finish this request. hah. i hope you still enjoy!! (its unedited. maybe i'll come back someday to edit.)

a continuation of opposite of sun and light of the morning. please read the first two parts before reading this!

masterlist

Jeongguk never thought that it could be so hard to walk around New York.

There are people everywhere, going in a thousand different directions than him, and they walk so fast Jeongguk struggles to keep up even with his long legs. The shops he caught his eyes on were always full too, making him turn away from the door and look for other places that aren't so filled to the brim. Maybe he should’ve gone somewhere not as touristy as Times Square.

But above all, the hardest part of his stroll today is walking alongside you and having to feign nonchalance about it.

Jeongguk’s life as a singer doesn’t really allow him to have much free time, and even when he does, you either have work, class, or anything in between. As a result, the both of you can’t meet often. Jeongguk is so used to just seeing your face on his phone screen, talking to you via a video call connection, that seeing your form walking beside him throws him off balance.

It’s a good thing your face is mostly covered by the camera in your hands, otherwise Jeongguk would’ve spent the entire day with a blush dusting his cheeks just from holding eye contact with you.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Jeongguk squints his eyes past the camera lens covering your face, searching for your eyes which are shaded by the faded black cap sitting on your head. You only respond with a shrug, gesturing towards the camera as if to remind Jeongguk of its existence. He sighs, lifting your cap with a finger so he can look at your eyes. “Bun.”

“You’re not supposed to talk to me, you know?” you huff, trying to balance the device in your hand so Jeongguk’s face is still in frame. “I’m your cameraman for today, not your best friend.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Camerawoman,” he corrects, “and who says I’m not allowed to talk to you? Do you think I talk to myself the entire time I’m filming vlogs like this?”

“Seems like it,” you say. “Sometimes they’re funny, but most of the time they just make me think ‘what even is he saying?’”

A slow grin spreads on Jeongguk’s face, his eyes still trained on you instead of the camera. When you look away from the small screen of the device in your hand, Jeongguk feels like his smile could split his face into two, and it must look bizarre on camera, but he doesn’t care. What he does care about is—

“You watch my vlogs?”

Suddenly, Jeongguk feels like he is not a popular singer with fans all over the world who tune in to his regular vlog updates, but just Jeon Jeongguk, a boy with a crush to impress. The way you unintentionally confirmed that you watch his vlogs makes him feel all giddy inside that it slipped his mind that you already said the same thing this morning in his hotel room.

Maybe this is what people mean when they say love makes one stupid.

“Only to see what other stupid shenanigans you do this time,” you mumble, dabbing around your face with the back of your free hand. It suspiciously looks like you’re trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks, but Jeongguk immediately throws that thought away from his mind. It must be the New York heat that’s making your face hot like this.

“Just admit you enjoy seeing my face on your phone that much,” Jeongguk says cheekily, settling for a response that’s annoying, teasing, but familiar for the both of you. Maybe he’ll address the not-blush on the apple of your cheeks some other time.

“Where was this confidence about me watching your Times Square performance, huh?” You punch his shoulder lightly, which he’s sure makes the image of him on camera shake and blur. “Saying I ‘ghosted’ you because your performance is ‘bad’. What nonsense was that.”

“Hey, I was really worried about you, okay?” Jeongguk pouts. “Besides, I still need your opinion on my performances, whereas my vlogs are usually just me messing around. It’s different.”

Whatever response you have prepared in your mind gets interrupted by your phone ringing, which startles you so much you almost drop the camera from your hand. Good thing Jeongguk has fast reflexes, immediately enclosing his hands around yours before you could do any damage to the device. Upon checking the caller ID, your expression turns to one of worry.

Jeongguk takes the camera away from you. “Take the call,” he says. “I’ll just be here.”

While you step away to do just that, Jeongguk takes the opportunity to finally pay attention to the camera that he has been ignoring for the past few minutes, checking himself out on the small screen and running his fingers through his hair while holding eye contact with the lense. He goes on social media often enough to know that his fans will cut this specific clip from the vlog and fangirl over how good he looks while doing that.

Sometimes he wonders whether you see those clips and have the same reaction as his fans. Do you see them and scroll past them like they’re nothing? Do you scoff at his antics? Do you shake your head with a small laugh?

There’s also a possibility of you not even seeing those clips at all, but Jeongguk likes to think he’s popular enough that his clips can’t help but still end up in your feed. (Also, it hurts his little heart too much to imagine otherwise.)

You come back to him from your phone call with anxiety written all over your face. Jeongguk doesn’t even need to inquire before you squeak out your concern yourself.

“The deadline for my midterm paper has been moved. It’s now due in five hours. Jeongguk, what do I do?”

The both of you end up going back to Jeongguk’s hotel to fish out your brick-ass laptop from your gigantic backpack, the camera in his hands still recording. You’ve told him that he could continue exploring New York on his own, bringing the camera noona like the initial plan was, but Jeongguk insisted on coming with you instead. Why would he go with anyone else when you are here?

Still, though, because he doesn’t want to lose the sense of exploring a new place, he drags you to a dessert cafe near his hotel, offering to hold your laptop in his arms while you walk the short distance to the cafe. Despite your protests, Jeongguk manages to convince you to leave the camera on for the entirety of this laptop fiasco, capturing every moment from the laptop tug-of-war in Jeongguk’s hotel room to his grin in response to your sulking face when you’re both seated in the dessert cafe.

His video editor would hate him for this, but Jeongguk doesn’t care. You’re here, in New York with him, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try his hardest to preserve any memories you make here.

“I don’t understand why you’d rather be stuck here with me than be out there exploring sunny New York in all its glory,” you huff while waiting for your laptop to turn on. It takes a while, Jeongguk notices, but your pout prevents him from saying anything about it. “What idiot has free time in New York and chooses to spend it cooped inside some random cafe?”

Jeongguk pretends to adjust the camera sitting on the table—angled in a way that it captures his face only—so he doesn’t have to look at your face when he says his next words: “Your idiot, Bun.”

You level him with a flat stare. “So you admit you’re an idiot.”

If it means being yours, sure, Jeongguk thinks. He really should stop thinking thoughts like these lest he blurt them out in front of you, on camera.

“I’m gonna order, what do you want, Bun?” Jeongguk asks as an attempt to steer the conversation away from idiots with feelings.

You look up from your (finally on) laptop screen with your head in your hands. “Anything except americano,” you mumble. “Thanks, Jeon.”

“Sure, Bun.” Jeongguk stands up from his seat, grabbing the camera to bring with him to the cashier. “You sure you don’t want anything else?”

The way you shake your head dejectedly is so uncharacteristic of you, given you’re both in a cafe filled with the smell of baked goods—something that usually brings a light of excitement into your eyes. Jeongguk can only imagine how stressful it is being a college student and having your midterm deadline be moved to hours earlier, and to experience all this while being jet lagged from a 14-hour flight prior surely doesn’t help.

Jeongguk has to physically hold himself from ducking down to engulf you in a hug, squeeze his arms around your frame until your frown is turned upside down and he can bear witness to your smile once again. For now, he can only wish that the cafe sells the type of bread you like so he can at least alleviate some of your burden with the sweet treat.

When he goes to the cashier to order, his polite smile is responded with a gasp from the cafe worker, clearly recognizing him as the popular singer. His smile turns into something more genuine—albeit a bit shy also—when the worker mentions that she’s a fan of his. After exchanging some pleasantries with her, Jeongguk proceeds to order. He just doesn’t realize how many desserts and pastries in the display case he’s pointed at until the worker asks him a question.

“Are you here with your crews?” she inquires, still tapping away at the computer screen in front of her. When Jeongguk only stares at her with wide eyes, she continues. “We can provide individual utensils for each of you if you’d like,” she offers.

Oh. Oh. Jeongguk thought she was asking for conversational purposes. “Uh, just two sets would be fine. Thank you.”

Still, it doesn’t register in his brain that he’s ordered too many pastries for two people until he’s coming back to your table with only both of your drinks on the tray in his hands. He sets your drink down next to your laptop, on which you’re typing furiously like you’re a madman chased by a tight deadline (in a way, you kind of are.)

Only when three cafe workers come back to back to your table to drop off his order of various kinds of desserts and pastries does he realize that he might have gone overboard with his order. Jeongguk can only flash a guilty smile your way when you tear your eyes away from your laptop to gape at the array of desserts in front of you.

“Are you trying to feed an entire village?” you ask incredulously.

“Hehe,” Jeongguk offers. “I was thinking about you and how you looked so stressed out because of your deadline and I just … ordered pretty much everything … for you.” He scratches his head sheepishly while setting the camera to its initial position on the corner of the table. He hopes the camera doesn’t pick up the way his cheeks blossom with heat. Or if it does, he hopes the editor cuts this part out.

Jeongguk doesn’t know if he imagines this part or not, but your eyes soften at his words and your next words are more gentle in tone. “Thank you, but there’s no way I would be able to finish all of these by myself.”

“Did you forget that you have Jeon Jeongguk for a best friend?” There’s a smug smirk on his face now, replacing the sheepish one he was sporting a few minutes ago. He likes it when you’re soft with him, vulnerable in a way only he’s allowed to see, but that’s exactly the problem: you’re both on camera, and whether or not this gets shared to the world, it’s still not as private as he would’ve liked. So he’s back on his annoying best friend persona to stop your vulnerable side from coming out.

You roll your eyes at him, but there’s a sliver of a smile on your lips.

The both of you spend the next few minutes enjoying your desserts and drinks, with Jeongguk cutting the desserts into bite-sized pieces so you can eat them with ease. He also does not forget his job as an entertainer, showing each and every one of the desserts to the camera and making sure his delightful hums are loud enough for the camera to pick up. He’s humming along to the song being played in the cafe while chewing when it suddenly plays an intro of a song he knows by heart—and judging from the way you look up from your laptop, you do too.

“Did they know you’re here?” The smile on your face is teasing.

“The cashier recognized me, said she’s a fan,” Jeongguk explains, turning his head in the direction of the cashier, trying to find the aforementioned worker. Upon making eye contact with her, Jeongguk mouths a thank you! with a smile, which she responds with a thumbs up.

“You must have made her day by coming here. Her whole week, even,” you chuckle, going back to typing on your laptop. The smile quickly drops from your face as you’re forced to go back to thinking mode for your midterm paper. Jeongguk nudges a fork full of pastry into your hand, silently asking you to eat.

“Then would you still say I’m an idiot for choosing to be here with you?”

Jeongguk said he’d leave this topic alone, revisit it later when he’s got the courage to do so, but what can he do? Your presence here with him makes him overwhelmed with feelings that sometimes it slips in between his words.

The only response he receives from you is silence. Jeongguk doesn’t know whether it’s because you didn’t want to respond or you simply just didn’t hear him. It’s most likely the latter as any attempt he makes to make you eat the desserts are useless as you’re too immersed in your paper. He ends up just feeding you bites after bites of desserts, grateful and giddy that you take them without protests as you’re typing.

As he’s cutting up more pastries for you to eat, the song changes to ‘Yes or No’, the fifth track on his latest album that he performed live two days ago at Times Square. He remembers you telling him that your friend, Yeseo, became a fan after listening to this song. Jeongguk tries to suppress a smile by biting his bottom lip as he listens to the lyrics of the song.

Are you feeling the rush?

Are we falling in love?

Say yes or no

In an interview, Jeongguk told the public that no songs from his album are based on his personal life, although he hopes he still delivered the messages of the songs well enough. What he doesn’t say, however, is that he thinks of you whenever he listens to or performs this song. It’s a song about a person in love and still wonders whether the other person is feeling the same way. Sometimes he wishes he could be honest and sing the words to you, pour out his feelings along the way, and he wishes you could feel the same way.

Jeongguk stops his activities of cutting desserts into bite-sized pieces and leans his back against his chair, staring at you. You’re still hyper-focused on your paper that you don’t notice his gaze, typing away on your laptop without a care for the love pouring out of his eyes.

Jeongguk knows you love him.

You love him enough to answer his video call at two am when you were studying. You love him enough to sacrifice sleep to watch his performance. You love him enough to book a flight to New York immediately after even though you still have a midterm paper to finish. You love him enough to walk around JFK with a heavy backpack hanging off your shoulders. You love him enough to join him exploring New York instead of resting off your jet lag.

But does that mean you love him enough to return his feelings the way he wants you to?

As he ponders the answer to that question, his hand moves on its own accord to continue feeding you the dessert he has cut up. You continue accepting the food he feeds you, and Jeongguk thinks maybe he needs to stop being selfish and just be content with whatever he has with you right now: friendship.

Although, in this moment, feeding you desserts while you do your paper, he feels like your college boyfriend he wished to be nights ago when you were a mere video on his phone. He already dresses the part—jeans and oversized hoodie—and feels the part, but that’s the thing about parts, isn’t it? That they’re not real, that they’re only there in his head.

You have cream on the corner of your lips from a particular big cut of dessert Jeongguk just fed you, and it feels like autopilot when he leans forward to swipe the cream off your lips with his thumb. He slots the thumb in between his own lips, sucking the cream clean off his skin. The innocent round of his eyes are met with the shocked round of yours, unblinking as you stare at the thumb previously on your lips, now on his.

“What?” he asks dumbly.

You shake your head. There’s an unmistakable crimson on the apple of your cheeks. “Nothing,” you say, clearing your throat. The blush on your face remains, and if Jeongguk’s sight serves him right, deepens instead. “Just, remember that you’re on camera the next time you want to do that.”

“So I can do it again if I turn off the camera?”

Jeongguk surprises himself by how steady he sounds. A tad too serious, too, and if he’s not careful, you might take it that he really wants to do it again, for real. His heart hammers in his chest as his hand inches towards the camera, fingers ready to turn the device off.

“Jeongguk,” you say slowly in a warning tone. “Namjoon will kill me if you try anything funny.”

Letting out his signature big grin, Jeongguk retracts his hand from the camera.

“Sorry, Bun. I’ll let you finish your paper in peace now.”

If you have cream on your lips again, maybe he’ll swipe it off with his lips instead. Maybe later, when he has the courage to. Maybe later, when he’s let you know how he really feels.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

a/n: thank you for reading! i still have 1 (one) more idea for this couple pair of bestfriends but not sure if i have the brain capacity to actually write it out ahaha let me know if you want to see more of them though :D

[orionremastered]

hi! I was wondering how the bats would be with a reader who is disabled or has prosthetics? they're all just very protective of people they care about since...everything, and how maybe that could start to feel sufacating at some point? Or something, idk dude

(also-the way you write is realy cute and sweet for all of them, makes them feel a lot less heavy when they have someone to hold them <33)

Masterlist

Batboys with a Disabled S/O

Dick Grayson [Fully Deaf]

A gentle touch on your shoulder prompts you to slowly turn around, a smile stretching across your face when you realise your boyfriend's back from work.

You pull him into your arms, threading your fingers through his hair. Pulling away reluctantly, you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

But he's not smiling; only a sad smile that makes you tilt your head in a silent question.

Don't worry about it, he signs. Have a good day?

You nod, though your frown remains when he moves to the kitchen, always adamant that he cooks whenever he's home. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, frowning at the caller ID and puts the phone on speaker as he begins cooking.

Dick gets more and more angry as the conversation goes on, his hands waving wildly around the small kitchen, only stopping to return to the cooking.

Finally, he hangs up. You tap him on the shoulder and he turns, watching as you sign;

Who was that?

Dick's shoulders raise and drop. A case I'm working on. I'll figure it out.

You nod slowly, satisfied with his response.

Jason Todd [Fully Blind]

Mornings with Jason always start like this. They always start with you gently running your fingers across his face, mapping it out and imagining it in your head. Over his nose, his lips, his stubble.

"Did you clean the apartment?" you ask, lying on top of him as your guide dog sits next to you on the mattress. "I almost knocked one of your guns off the counter yesterday."

"I did," he murmurs. You rest your fingers on his lips and feel that they're stretched into a smile. "I'm sorry for letting it get messy."

"That's okay," you reply quietly, "Ollie picked it up before it hit the floor."

Ollie, your guide dog, makes a huffing sound beside you, causing you both to chuckle.

"Good boy," Jason says proudly, feeling him shift underneath you, mostly likely to pat Ollie.

"You're both good. Too good, maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jason asks.

"Hmm."

Tim Drake [Classical Ehlers-Danlos syndrome]

"Love? Can we go for a camping trip on the weekend with my friends?"

Tim turns his head slowly as he sits in his study chair. He taps the pen he's holding against his lips. "What happens if you get exhausted?"

"We can go back to the tent and rest."

"You can get bruises. A lot of bruises," he frowns, gesturing for you to walk to him. You comply.

"That's fine, they're just bruises," you respond, sitting on his lap. He begins gently drawing shapes on the bare skin of your thighs.

"You could dislocate something," he says to you, quieter now.

"You know how to put it back. You do it for me all the time."

Tim's brow furrows at the reminder of having to put back in dislocated joints more often than he'd like. "Fine. But if you even start to get a little tired, you tell me. Okay?"

You rest your forehead against his and murmur, "Okay."

Damian Wayne [Prosthetic Arm]

"I'll take those—"

"Damian, I love you, but I can put shopping bags into the car just fine." This and many similar conversations have been going on practically since the start of your relationship. And while you do find it endearing that he cares, sometimes you just want him to treat you like you didn't lose your right arm in an accident.

The man scowls. "But—"

"I'm not going to hurt myself, really."

He watches you warily, weighing the outcomes of the situation. "Fine. Only the lighter ones."

You suppose it's better than not being able to do any of them. Still, he watches you like a hawk as you put the lighter ones in the back of the car he bought you (you protested but that man has the most selective hearing).

He closes the trunk/boot after the bags are inside.

"Can I drive?" you ask, hoping you'll get luck there too.

"No."

"I know how."

"No."

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Hello!!! I have a request if that’s okay with you. 💕

Would you maybe write a Spencer x quiet!reader? Where she doesn’t have the courage to talk to him because she’s too shy?

I don’t really have a plot in mind so that’s up to you!! I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any ideas but hopefully it lets you write whatever you want. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And I read your other stories, you’re so underrated and amazing I love your wording when you write. 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi Mary!! Thank you so much for your kind words c:

I did my best c: I hope you like it!

Round Table (Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader (if not gn please let me know, but I'm fairly certain it is!)

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, but besides that none?

A/N: this was so fun c: i am really enjoying challenging myself with your guys' requests. hope you enjoy!!

------

You were an incredibly anxious person, which, honestly, was okay. You tried not to let your anxiety hinder your life too much, but like any other human being, sometimes it got in the way. It was frustrating, sure, knowing that a situation would be so much easier if you weren’t so anxious about it, but you reminded yourself often that you weren’t perfect, and neither was anyone else. 

Some people were afraid of heights, of the ocean, of needles. Some people had trouble going out into crowds or grew overstimulated in public places. 

You? You were painfully shy. There was always an adjustment period to being around new people.

Baristas, the bus driver, pharmacy techs, cashiers at the grocery store - you did just fine. But those were one-time interactions, brief discussions that you could compartmentalize. 

They came with a script to follow, with cue cards already queued up in your head as they occurred. You could put on an emotional mask for five minutes while the nurse at the clinic gave you a flu shot. You could smile and speak in your special voice labeled Getting Coffee, an octave higher than you usually spoke, in order to acquire your much-needed beverage. There was a clear goal in mind with each of these dialogues. Sure, you didn’t present as the most confident person in the world, but you always made it through conversations like these without stumbling over your words or being too terribly awkward.  

You didn’t succeed as much with deeper connections, with ones that took time to cultivate. You were a guarded person to begin with, with only a handful of people you felt truly close to. Vulnerability had always been difficult for you, but you supposed you were in the majority on that front. It took a while to become comfortable around coworkers, extended family, hell, even your therapist. You had to have time to adjust, to settle in. 

A lot of people in your life thought you were just socially awkward or even an agoraphobe, but you didn’t mind being around people. It was the intimacy, the connection, the having to give away little pieces of yourself, that made you anxious. It kept you from participating in conversations most of the time, usually only speaking unless spoken to. 

You liked your job as a linguistics and handwriting analyst in the FBI for that very reason. You didn’t have to say much  to people unless it was related to a case. With a clear goal in mind, a threat to neutralize, you could turn on that mechanical part of your brain that spouted off facts, information, theories. You didn’t have to tell anyone about your weekend, about your hopes and dreams or your favorite foods. 

You were consulting on a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit - a serial killer who stalked his victims months before their murders, sending handwritten letters and using poetry to taunt them. Your supervisor had asked you to collaborate with the BAU, sending you to the sixth floor on your own. 

For the last two days, you’d been working closely with Dr. Spencer Reid - Spencer, he insisted you call him. Just a couple of years older than you, but still very young for his role in the FBI. He was friendly,  and very smart, and he rambled on about all kinds of things - 

Everything, actually. The Chinese food you’d had for lunch on the first day? He explained the origin of fortune cookies. Did you know their first appearance in the US was in San Francisco in the late 1800s? 

Pointing out a Dickinson line in one of the UnSub’s letters? Did you know only ten of Emily Dickinson’s poems were actually published when she was alive and the rest were posthumous? 

You often just nodded along and smiled, occasionally throwing in an oh, that’s very interesting to appear as an active listener. And you were an active listener. You did genuinely think he was interesting, and you found his info dumps to be incredibly endearing. But your contributions to the conversation were abysmal in comparison.

Beyond discussing patterns in the UnSub’s letters and what it might mean for each victim, you had no other fascinating information to share. You didn’t do well with small talk, and Spencer didn’t ask you any overtly personal questions. 

It wasn’t until close to the end of the second day spent in the conference room of the BAU’s office that Spencer asked you a direct question about yourself. 

There were three evidence boards set up, all full of scanned copies of the letters, each one pinned up meticulously by you and Spencer the day before. The large round table in the room had letters stacked out all around it, each one bagged in protective plastic. 

Spencer was standing in front of the evidence boards with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the photocopies with his head inclined to the side. 

He broke the silence you had been slowly settling into the past two days. “Your supervisor said you had a specialization in poetry?” 

You nodded, stepping over to the table and carefully lifting one of the letters up. You liked how he spoke as if you two were in the middle of a conversation, when in fact, it had been totally silent for the past half an hour, save for the soft puttering of the air conditioning vent.

“Studied a lot in undergrad,” you squeaked out, clearing your throat as you held the letter up the fluorescent light above you to examine the stationary. 

“What university did you attend?” Spencer asked, and you turned your head to find him inclining his head to the side. He actually wanted to know? 

“I went to Bennington College to study poetry,” you said softly, suddenly finding it difficult to focus on the letter in your hand. “But I went to graduate school at Georgetown. Master’s in Linguistics.” 

“Really? That’s fascinating,” Spencer commented, which caught you by surprise, especially because he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. “That combination of degrees is exceedingly rare. Generally people who major in poetry often either go on to complete as far up as a doctorate in the subject or  they stop at a Bachelor’s degree. The latter statistically don’t end up working in a field related to poetry, either, so their degree is basically useless.” 

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended by that, so instead you just nodded your head politely. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip. 

“Can I ask you another question?” Spencer asked, and set the letter in your hand down on the table. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your shirt and nodded. “Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?” 

You shook your head. “No,” you said assuredly, and then, a little more hesitantly, “…why would you ask me that?” 

Spencer turned to face you. “You’re just very quiet unless we’re discussing the case. Which is fine, of course, but I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were annoyed by me or I said something to offend you.” 

You felt guilt spread over you and your cheeks turned pink. The last thing you’d wanted was to make anyone feel bad who didn’t deserve it. And the very kind, helpful, and adorable Dr. Spencer Reid was the furthest from deserving to feel bad. 

 “I just don’t talk a lot,” you tried to explain. Your hand rubbed the spot where the top of your chest met the skin of your neck, an anxious habit you’d had for years. “I mean, I do with people I know, and that’s not to say I dominate the conversation by any means, but I just…” you realized you were rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you added, your voice just above a whisper. 

“Thank you,” Spencer’s lips flickered into a straight-lined smile, one you had seen several times over the past few days, often when unintentional eye contact was made across the table. “For clarifying, I mean, that I didn’t offend you.” He cleared his throat, and leaned against the round table, standing just a few feet from you. Still a very professional and comfortable distance, but closer than he had been before. “So, does that mean that if we got to know each other, you’d talk more?” The corners of his lips spread out and his smile grew. 

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the letter in your hand, the protective plastic around it crinkling between your fingers. You weren’t actually looking at the letter, though. You’d just needed somewhere - anywhere - else to look. “That’s generally how it goes,” you murmured, biting your lip. 

“So, if I were to, for example, ask you to meet me for dinner sometime, could the getting to know each other happen there?” 

Your eyes fluttered over to Spencer’s and you saw him smiling. You could tell by how he looked at you, with his head inclined just slightly to the side, that he was being fully serious. You nodded, unable to control the small smile on your face. 

Spencer grinned, and you could tell he couldn’t resist when he spoke again. “So, is that a yes?” 

[unoislazy]

Hello ! Sorry for my bad English, it's not my first language I do my best

First of all, I love how you write <3

Second, my request would be Hiccup getting jealous and confessing to fem!reader by accident

That's all !

Thanks for writing so well, I send you a little kiss

Hello!

Congrats you’re my first request!

I hope I could do your request justice, enjoy

Just Talk To Me!

Hiccup x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k words

Summary: You and Eret have gotten pretty close due to your constant fighting practice. Of course, a certain chief isn’t too happy about it but he has a bit of trouble trying to tell you why.

————————————————————

“You’re getting better at this!” Eret praised, ducking under your fist as you swung at him. He continued to dodge your strikes as you smiled.

You both had begun sparring together a few months ago, after the whole Dragon War fiasco. You realized that without your dragon, you weren’t as strong or as agile as the other Vikings, so you asked Eret to help you train.

You swept your foot under him, finally taking him down and putting your foot on his chest, signifying that you had one the fight.

“Have I gotten better, or have you just gotten worse?” You asked teasingly, taking your foot off of him as he smiled up at you.

You held out your hand to help him up. He obliged, taking it as he stood up once again, wiping off his clothes from that dust that truly didn’t even seem to be there.

“You’ve certainly made improvements since day one. I can tell you that.” He said, stretching a bit. “You could definitely do well even without your dragon, if you’d ever need to.” He continued, looking back at both of your dragons who were simply chilling off to the side, as they often did when you two fought.

“Hopefully there never comes a time.” You said in a lighthearted tone, but you truly hoped there would never be a time where you’d have to fair without your dragon.

“I second that. It’s funny, I never thought I’d ever change my ways when it came to dragons. Yet here I am, looking after this beast.” Eret joked, patting Skull Crushers head lightly causing the dragon to groan and slightly shake its head in response.

“Well I’m glad you had it in you to change, who knows maybe I would’ve taken you down myself.” You gloated sarcastically, walking towards the pair as Eret smiled back at you, acknowledging your joke.

“Yeah you wouldn’t have made it even close.” He let out a chuckle as he watched your teasing smirk turn to a pout. You knew his teasing was all in good fun but realistically if it had come to it you would’ve taken him out if you needed to.

“Just cause I’ve gotten better doesn’t mean I wasn’t skilled to begin with.” You reminded.

“Fair. Now how about best two out of three?” Eret asked, getting into a fighting stance which you very quickly mimicked. Just as you both were about to start fighting you had heard a very familiar growl come from above. Your head shot up towards the noise and you spotted none other than Hiccup Haddock, the chief of Berk, flying above you.

“Guess not.” You joked, no longer standing in a ready position as you turned to face the aforementioned chief who had landed not too far away from the both of you. Hiccup hopped off of Toothless with ease, slipping his helmet off in the process, and walked over to the two of you with Toothless close behind.

“Morning you two.” Hiccup greated, earning a nod of acknowledgement from the both of you. “What are you guys doing all the way out here?” He asked but you noticed it wasn’t in the sense of his usual curiosity. There was an underlying tone that you could quite put your finger on so you figured you were just simply thinking too much into it.

You hadn’t really thought about it but you suppose you and Eret were more or less in the middle of nowhere in the woods. It was the most quiet place the two of you could find to practice in peace without going to the Arena.

“Eret and I have been sparring, I figured I should eventually learn how, considering most of my strength comes from them.” You said, gesturing to your dragon who was sleeping peacefully only to be startled awake by Toothless patting them on the head. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, Toothless always reminded you of a cat in a way, you found it adorable.

“Alone?” Hiccup asked, which honestly surprised the both of you. You looked towards hiccup in confusion only to see the shock he had on his own face. Clearly he didn’t mean to let it slip out but it was too late to take it back now.

“Well no… our dragons are here with us?” You stated but you were so confused about the reasoning behind Hiccups question that you couldn’t seem to phrase it as anything other than a question. You all fell silent as Hiccup swayed his arms in an awkward fashion, something he only does when he’s trying to avoid talking about something.

Eret looked between the two of you, realizing he had no part in the conversation he simply cleared his throat.

“I’ll just leave you two be, I have some… things to take care of..” He excused himself, quickly hopping onto Skullcrusher and exiting the awkward situation as quickly as possible. Once Eret had flown away you quickly turned back to Hiccup who was clearly avoiding even looking in your general direction.

“Spill it.” You said bluntly causing Hiccup to finally make eye contact with you. His face held a confused look but you both knew what you were talking about.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Hiccup said, again clearly avoiding the topic as he walked over to Toothless. “Have you seen the new addition I added to Toothless’s tail?” It was clear he was trying to think of anything to change the subject because obviously there was nothing different about Toothless’s tail and you both knew that.

You crossed your arms as you stared at the brunette before you, your face holding an expression that clearly said ‘seriously?’. He dropped Toothless’s tail with a sigh before getting up and walking towards you. Silence quickly swept over the two of you as you continued to wait for Hiccup to say something. You raised an eyebrow at him before he blurted out,

“Have you seen the new scale armor?”, giving one more quick shot to derail the conversation.

“Hiccup.” You said quite sternly. “Spill it.” You repeated, your arms still crossed over your chest as you watched the man nervously fidget. He may be the chief but he still held some of his nervous quirks. Sure he had the ability to look powerful and calm when his people needed their chief, but when he wasn’t the ‘Chief of Berk’ he was just Hiccup.

Just Hiccup.

And you’d be damned if you said you didn’t love him. Ever since you met hiccup you knew he always tried to meet everyone’s expectations only to have a long history of falling short. Hiccup as he was was always overlooked, everyone looked to him to be ‘the Chiefs son’ the ‘next chief of Berk’ and the one he really struggled with, was ‘Stoick’s son’. No one ever truly looked at him as just Hiccup.

Well everyone except you.

You liked him from the very beginning when he was just a scrawny boy obsessed with earning his fathers approval. Did you have the courage to say anything about the way you felt? No of course not, why would you? As much as you loved to see him as ‘Just Hiccup’ you couldn’t deny the fact that he was still pretty far out of your league, especially given his title of ‘The Dragon Master’. What title did you have? Nothing.

Well you had the title of being one of his closest friends so you stuck with that as being enough for you.

“I just don’t think you and Eret should be so far away while training.” He finally spoke up. It was clear he was still keeping something from you but at least he gave you something to work with.

“Why?” You asked, trying to nudge more out of him. He put his hands on his hips. As he began to pace slowly in a circle.

“I don’t know, I just think it would be safer if you-“ Hiccup began only for you to cut him off.

“Hiccup we have two dragons here, one of them being Skull Crusher. I’d say it’s pretty safe to say nothings going to attack us out here.” You argued, now mimicking his pose with your hands on your hips.

“Well still I just don’t like the idea of you guys being alone.” He said, looking up at you. You rolled your eyes in response,

“Hiccup I already said, we’re here with the dragons. We’re not alone.” You stated as if it wasn’t getting through his head. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he was trying to hint at a different concern and you were missing the point entirely.

Your response only caused Hiccup to groan as his hand shot up to his face. He dragged his hands down his face as he turned around, now facing Toothless who simply looked at his friend in utter confusion. The dragon looked from you, then to Hiccup, then back to you. You simply shook your head with a shrug of your shoulders before Toothless walked away, deeming him your problem.

“Hiccup I don't understand why this is such a big issue to you, we used to be in the woods alone all the time together. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.” You stated quite bluntly.

“That was different!” He shouted. His face had ever so slightly turned the faintest hint of red, but it was still enough for you to notice. He seemed almost exasperated as you continued to swim around the very vague point that he was failing to get at.

“How was it any different than what me and Eret are doing? If anything it’s safer now because we’re both adults. Granted we did have a Night Fury with us back then…” You began to mumble to yourself, accidentally going off topic. Hiccup sighed, walking up to you and grabbing you by your shoulders. He was stern but still managed to be gentle as he forced you to look at him.

“I can’t control what you do or who you spend your time with, but I just don’t like that you and Eret spend so much time together, so far outside of the village, alone…” Hiccup said, practically laying it all out for you.

“Hiccup?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not alone.”

Hiccup merely stared at you, eyes wide in shock as he tried to calculate your intelligence in that split second. He practically spelled it out for you and you still weren’t getting it.

What hadn’t occurred to him however, was that you had already caught on, you were just trying to get him to admit it himself. Granted, you had just caught on maybe seconds before, but you still thought it might be fun to mess with him a little. Besides, who were you to make the assumption that the Chief of Berk himself was jealous that you were spending time with another man. It could be considered a reach… Unless he just said it himself.

“Why don’t you want me to be alone with him so badly?” You asked, figuring you should try and at least break the loop that you two seemed to be stuck in.

“Because…” Hiccup began, trying to think of a way to phrase what he wanted to say. You waited patiently, just looking at him and occasionally switching your gaze over to the dragons who were chasing each other around.

“Because?” You repeated, waiting for his response. His green eyes staring back into yours. They looked almost as if they were trembling as they bounced between the features on your face.

“Why is it so hard to talk to you?” He shouted abruptly, quickly letting go of your shoulders and flung his arms into the air with an exasperated groan.

“If it was easier for you to tell me about the dragon you were keeping hidden from a village filled with bloodthirsty, war hungry Vikings, I’ m almost afraid of whatever this could possibly be.” You joked, trying to lighten his mood.

“It’s not the same thing.” He muttered in response as you laughed.

“How could anything you have to tell me be worse than that?” Hiccup sighed in response as he went back to pacing. Clearly it was his way of thinking about what to do next. It wasn’t a trait he often exhibited but you knew once he started pacing, whatever he was thinking about was pretty serious.

“It’s not about what I have to tell you, it’s about your response.” He finally said, you rolled your eyes lightheartedly. You’ve known this man for years, and in those years you’ve learned countless embarrassing facts about him that he had less of a problem about you knowing than ‘whatever he had to tell you’.

“What does my response have to do with anything? Hiccup, anything you have to tell me won't change anything.” You stated with a laugh as you tried to comfort him. You almost started to second guess what you thought he was going to tell you. If he was truly this worried about what he was going to say maybe it was actually a very serious matter?

“Ha, yeah you say that now.” He laughed sarcastically, quickly looking up at you before returning to his pacing.

“Hiccup, I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

If there’s one thing about Hiccup it was his stubbornness. Anyone would just shrug that off as a Viking thing but you knew if anything, it came from his father. As much as Hiccup would deny being able to compare to his father, he shared many similar traits with him. You knew it, his mother knew it, even Gobber knew it, but he frequently denied it.

Stubborn.

“Why are you so concerned about me and Eret in the first place?” You decided to bring up the last topic, because if he wasn’t going to get to the point, you were.

“Because…” He muttered quietly in response as if he was holding something back.

“Because what hiccup? Seriously, I know you have an issue with communication sometimes but you can't just keep dancing around the issue here-“ You rambled a bit but before you could continue, Hiccup interrupted you.

“Because I have feelings for you!” He blurted out suddenly.

You both froze. He turned away from you as you simply stared at him. He finally said it, he actually really said it.

“Hiccup…” You muttered quietly.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. The last thing he wanted right now was to turn around and have to face the potential of rejection.

“Hiccup.” You called out again, walking towards him and lightly placing your hand on his shoulder. He finally turned towards you slightly, but he still refused to face you all the way. “You’re serious?” You asked, to which he simply looked at you with confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“At least one of us finally admitted to it.” You joked. For some reason Hiccup had registered that you were making a joke, but not necessarily what you were joking about.

“Yeah okay, go on, laugh it out- wait.” Hiccup quickly turned back to you. You nodded with a smile, confirming his suspicion as he clearly thought he had misheard you.

“Wait but- for how long?” He asked excitedly, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Oh this is great! I thought you were going to hate me for even saying anything about it, but you’re not! You feel the same-“ He cheered, slightly beginning to ramble as all of his previous anxiety seemed to just melt away.

You smiled as you watched him celebrate before quickly planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

The man froze before you, clearly not expecting even such a small act of affection. You never knew him to be entirely bold, you always saw him as a very awkward man, but you watched as the awkwardness practically jumped out a window for a split second or so as Hiccup grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him.

He was the last person you’d expect such a smooth act to come from, and honestly you didn’t mind it. His eyes drifted from yours to your lips in a matter of seconds as if he was silently asking for your approval, to which you nodded.

Before you knew it you were kissing the literal man of your dreams.

It was wonderful.

It was a very soft kiss, the perfect kind to be shared for the first time.

Once you pulled away you looked to hiccup before dramatically gasping.

“What? What is it?” Hiccup asked, panicking that he had done something wrong.

“Does that mean… you were jealous of Eret?” You asked with a joking smile.

“Oh come on- really?” Hiccup said, jokingly pushing you away with a laugh.

Safe to say you never let him live this moment down, and much to his dismay you had excitedly told your friends about it not too long after.

[tsyvia48]

Author & Mensch: Reflections on the impact of @neil-gaiman on my life, in essay and doodle

As a woman of a certain age, I am a well-practiced overthinker. Nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual, the names have been biting or praise depending on who wielded them. They’re all true, and I embrace them. 

In the early days of adulthood, when I was a wee 20-something overthinking nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual (20+ years ago), I became deeply interested in image and text and text-as-image. While friends were watching and arguing over Survivor, I was obsessing over Peter Greenaway’s The Pillowbook and Prospero's Books and Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. (To this day my copies of the Sandman graphic novels and the English translation of The Pillowbook of Sei Shonagon are proudly displayed on the good bookshelves—you know, the ones I want people to peruse.)

Sandman isn't merely good storytelling and good art, it teases at some of the fundamental questions to which my religion-major heart was consistently and reliably drawn. It modeled a way of rendering the questions—and suggested answers—I would never have imagined on my own.

In those days, I created an artist's book: an altered gift edition of Hamlet. I explored Ophelia’s femininity and the inevitability of her break with her mental health, caught as she is between Hamlet and her father. I imagined her story if she’d had true agency. I investigated the way art (fan art?!) had shaped my understanding of the play and my relationship to it. I layered in my story—my resonance and dissonance with hers—and my art, along with images of famous and not-so-famous paintings of Ophelia. I proudly named Greenaway and Gaiman as influences. 

I imagined myself an artist. And, truthfully, I suppose I was one. 

I read Good Omens back then, too, delighting over the religious tropes and subversions, the humor, and the fundamental faith in humanity that shone through. 

In the two decades since then, below the din of “responsible” choices (that have mostly moved me away from imagining myself an artist) there has been a melody quietly bringing me comfort, shifting my perspective, and reminding me who I want to be. When I stop to listen for and name the music, I realize much of it generates from Neil Gaiman. 

The Graveyard Book gave me comfort and hope as a new parent. 

Ocean at the End of the Lane reminded me of the layers and the depths⏤the archetypes and metaphors⏤present in everything around me, if I am willing to seek them.

Neil’s anecdote about meeting Neil Armstrong has been a talisman against imposter syndrome. Or, more precisely, it has been a permission slip for forgiving myself when the imposter syndrome inevitably surfaces.

The episode of Dr Who he wrote (“the Doctor’s Wife”) changed the way I understand the entire Dr Who experience before and since. 

Lucifer (tv), which his work inspired, gave me joy, comfort and distraction through a tough time in my life. 

When, a few years ago, I realized he is Jewish, I had that swelling of pride and resonance that I always get when someone I admire shares that identity with me.

And now there’s the Good Omens tv series. It has opened something in me I didn’t realize was closed. Crowley and Aziraphale are helping me better understand myself, and love, and gender, and storytelling, and, believe it or not, Torah. I am writing again for the first time in ages. I'm drawing more often and with more joy than I’ve known maybe since childhood.

I’ve been getting back into my gratidoodle practice, drawing and writing what I’m grateful for. And when I decided to add Neil Gaiman’s face and some words about my appreciation for his work to my sketchbook, I realized he’s brought me full circle.

Text and image and text-as-image + Neil Gaiman + story is an old constellation for me. And once again, I find my thoughts dancing, shifting, blossoming to the quiet melody of (one of?) the greatest storyteller(s) of this generation. 

And now that I am actively engaging with other Gaiman fans, I see how responsive and kind and encouraging he is to those of us who love his work, and his name is permanently etched on my heart: a benefactor, a teacher, a role model.

How satisfying and fitting that such a powerful and resonant voice, miraculously, thankfully, beautifully, also seems to be a genuine mensch. 

B”H (thanks to God) that I am alive at the same time as such a one.

#I didn't realize I was going to write AND draw when I started this #but I felt I needed both #I wish I had a flatbed scanner #this photo doesn't do it justice #there's greater nuance in the color in person #Stories matter #Art matters #like, really matters #Neil Gaiman is a gift to this world #Good Omens #Crowley and Aziraphale #Ocean at the End of the Lane #The Graveyard Book #Neil Armstrong and imposter syndrome #The Doctor's Wife #So grateful for tumblr

[fictionalwh0ree]

Hi! May I please make a Billie request where Billie realizes she has a crush on her best friend and starts acting nervous and shy around her, and Billie decides to go live one day and fans are asking about reader since she's usually always around and Bil's like "guys she makes me nervous cause I think she's super pretty" and basically admits her crush? Thank you 🥹🤗

cocktail night- billie eilish

summary: you and billie became fast friends, but the celebrity lifestyle sometimes interferes with your plans. you two finally have a free night and decide to have a cocktail night. with alcohol flowing through her veins, billie can't help but confess her crush on you to the world.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: alcohol/drinking, mild swearing

billie eilish was easily your favourite person in the world. despite having met only eight months ago, you guys had developed a bond unlike any other, spending any free time either of you had with each other. you knew you could spend every waking moment with her, and if you could, you definitely would. however, the celebrity lifestyles often clashed and while there were weeks were you could spend every day with each other, there were times where weeks would go by and you wouldn’t see each other. now was one of those dry spells where you hadn’t seen each other in about two weeks. you planned a little cocktail night together when you were both free. the idea had been your suggestion as the last couple of times you had seen your best friend, she had been acting strange. she was flustered and more quiet than usual. you blew it off as some weird way of coping with the stress and work that goes into writing and producing a new album, but thought that a couple cocktails might help loosen her up a little bit.

finally, the night arrived. you unlocked her door with the spare key she had given you and were immediately greeted by shark, who barked excitedly at seeing you. you bent down to pet him as billie ran down the stairs to meet you. with almost as much excitement as her puppy, she wrapped her arms around you in a hug while a large smile adorned her face. once she pulled away, you followed her to the kitchen.

“soooo, whats new?” she asked you.

“billie, we were on call just before i left the house,” you laughed before stuffing a couple chips in your mouth.

“but actually, this guy cut me off when i was driving and the guy behind me honked at me. i was so annoyed. the only thing that got me through the drive was reminding myself i would be drinking soon,” you vented.

“the thought of seeing me wasn’t enough to get you through the drive?” she joked, placing her hands over her heart dramatically.

“nope,” you smiled.

she kissed her teeth and looked away in fake annoyance, but the large smile on her face gave it away. she looked back over at you, your eyes locking, but only for a moment before hers dropped to the ground.

“i did miss you though, for real,” you affirmed.

“i missed you too,” she said.

“stop being so busy all the time,” billie joked.

“says you,” you laughed.

“you know, i think it would save you a lot of time if you had a muse to write about,” you joked, snagging a couple more chips.

“oh really? and who should my muse be?” she said, raising her eyebrow.

“me, duh,” you smiled.

“you’re already my muse,” she said, sending an exaggerated wink your way.

“aww, shut the fuck up,” you said, shoving her playfully.

“okay, come on lets get to drinking,” billie said, switching the subject.

you nodded in accordance and the two of you worked together, gathering everything you would need. as you prepared your cocktails, you downed a couple of shots each, leaving your prepared drinks, which were supposed to be somewhat aesthetic, a very ugly and delicious hot mess. you took your drinks into the living room and billie put on a movie. the two of you were already tipsy before having even taken a sip of your cocktail, and the movie had become background noise amongst your lively conversation.

before long, the two of you decided it was time to change into something more comfortable. thankfully, you had come prepared with matching christmas pj pants which you had bought earlier in the day. you told her to stay in her place, and she waited eagerly for you as you retrieved your bag. you pulled them out with a ‘ta da.’ she matched your energy, shrieking in excitement. she ran upstairs to get changed and as did you. once you were ready, you met her back in the living room, about to sit on the couch before the alcohol finally got to your bladder.

“i’m gonna go use the washroom quickly,” you told her.

she nodded, fidgeting with her phone. little did you know, she was going on live. the alcohol in her system making it seem like a good way to share your matching pyjama pants. she turned it on and within seconds, hundreds of thousands of people had joined. her live had just barely caught the end of your sentence, leading her fans to question where you were. the comments became flooded with comments along the lines of “is that y/n?” and “where’s y/n?”.

“yes guys, it is y/n,” billie smiled, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks as she slurred her words slightly.

“i came on here to show you guys our matching pj pants but she went to the washroom,” she continued.

her fans quickly picked up on the fact that she had been drinking and they had noticed the blush that got stronger with your mention.

“ouuuu she’s blushing,” one comment said.

“her cheeks r so red rn,” another one read.

“guyssss,” billie whined.

“who’s got you blushing like that 👀 👀” someone commented.

billie read it, mumbling the words slightly, before giggling.

“guys if i tell you this you can’t tell anyone okay?” she smiled, multiple fans agreeing and promising.

“y/n makes me nervous cause i think she's super pretty,” she confessed, giggling like a schoolgirl and throwing her phone. she shrieked into a nearby pillow, not fully recognizing what she had done. she picked up her phone hastily when she heard the bathroom door open. the comments were flooded with excitement and support from her fans, and of course, a lot of teasing as well.

“shhhhh, she’s coming back. remember the promise,” she said, turning back to see you a couple feet from the couch.

“what’re you up to?” you said skeptically.

“nothing,” she said innocently, widening her eyes at the camera to remind them to stay quiet.

“uh huh,” you laughed.

“i went on live to show everyone our matching pyjamas,” she said.

“well show them then,” you said.

she set her phone down against her empty cocktail glass and got up, standing next to you.

the two of you backed up until the camera captured you two fully donning your matching pants and white tank tops. she ran back to her phone and sat on the couch.

“why are you acting funny?” you smiled at her, tilting your head.

“i’m not,” she laughed.

“okay billie,” you laughed back.

you sat down next to her, setting your head down on her shoulder, causing her to blush again.

“my parents 😫😫😫,” someone commented.

“this is too cute,” another one read.

“billie u need to tell her,” one said.

“what’s up with your comments?” you asked billie, looking up at her.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, looking away.

you shook your head and looked back at the screen.

“billie said you made her nervous because she thinks you’re REALLY pretty,” a comment read.

you barely caught it as billie pulled the phone up above your face.

“you guys are snitches byeee” she said, ending the live hastily.

you sat up straight, looking at her in the eyes.

“i caught that, y’know?” you said.

“they weren’t supposed to say anything,” billie mumbled, a shy smile playing on her lips as her eyes locked on the couch cushion below her.

you laughed softly.

“so whats this about?” you asked gently, trying to coax her attention back to you.

“you read the comment,” she said, voice just above a whisper.

“say it,” you said, lifting her chin with your fingers, “tell me.”

she took a moment to meet your eyes, your faces now only inches apart as you leaned forward.

“i think you’re really pretty,” she whispered, “and i think i might like you, in more than a friend way.”

you finally leaned forward, linking your lips in a tender kiss. she leaned towards you and you leaned back until you were barely upright against the armrest. she pulled away for a moment, looking at you with a cheesy smile.

“you’re so stupid, y’know that?”

[pyramid-of-starrs]

hongjoong getting at us mad because we hung out with a different kpop boy group nsfw ?😭idk it came to me because of how atinys make the joke of hongjoong hating how we stan other groups-

Only look at me

Jealous mean Dom Hongjoong x Afab reader

Summary: You get caught by Hongjoong coming back to your home from a late night concert and he has to remind you who's fan you're supposed to be.

Genre: Angst and Smut

Warnings: Acts of possessiveness, begging, kinda toxic but like not really lol

Smut warnings: Rough sex, use of sex toys, oral sex (M recieving), gagging, choking, friends with benefits, mentions of punishment, punishment sex, use of consentual force (Y/N have a preestablished agreement), Mean dom Hongjoong, slapping, cum eating, throat fucking, condom sex, Sir kink??, pain kink??, Humilitation??, Degrading??

A/N: Idk what it is about Hongjoong but like, every fic I write about him he's getting his dick sucked, idk he just deserves that.

Minors dni

You walked into your loft around 3 am, you dropped your clear tote bag, and took off your shoes, the living room was dark, you turned on the light and were startled to see your best friend Hongjoong sitting on your couch with his leg folded over the other and his arms crossed.

"Jesus fucking Christ Hongjoong you scared the hell out of me, why are you just sitting in my house in the damn dark?!" You yelled, still shaken up while holding your fast-beating chest.

"You're coming home late." was all he replied, you didn't ask why he was here again because Hongjoong often randomly appeared at your house every since he got the spare key in case of emergencies.

"Yeah, I was out with my friends."

"Doing what?" He tilted his head slightly. "I'm your friend, your best friend to be exact, why didn't I know about this friend outing?"

"Uh- well, ya know it was... um... preplanned." You scratched your head then tried to slyly slide your clear tote bag behind you.

"That's not your normal purse, why the sudden change?" He questioned.

"Oh um, the place we went to searches bags so I figured I'd save myself the hassle, haha." You awkwardly giggled as you felt yourself caving under pressure.

"You still haven't told me where this place is Y/N." The look in his eyes were like daggers.

"Fine... me and some friends went to the Stray Kids concert tonight." you cracked.

"Oh! How fun! but it's" He checks his Apple watch. "3:47 am Y/N, in all my years of doing concerts I've never known them to end that late." He said sarcastically.

"Well...um." You stuttered and he rolled his eyes.

"Spit it out Y/N"

"Chan saw us in the crowd and remembered me from when you introduced us and he invited us out for drinks and food-"

"Ooooh drinks AND food, well damn you have had a full night huh?" The sarcasm was very evident.

"Hongjoong don't be like that."

"Like what? I just thought you said that you didn't need to see any other group besides Ateez since we are the best. Yet here you are."

"My friend bought the tickets." you sigh.

"And what did you do while you were out for food and drinks until 3 am." His eyes narrowed.

You stood there in silence choosing not to answer and avoid all eye contact.

"Come here Y/N." he stood up.

You walked over to him slowly then stood in front of him.

"Get on your knees." You stood there now listening for a moment. "Now!" You chose not to prolong it since he was already clearly mad, you got down and kneeled on both your knees on the cold hardwood floor, luckily you had on knee highs so it wasn't too bad. Hongjoong got closer to you and stood above you as he looked down on you with his arms folded you looked at him with pleading eyes hoping he would take a little mercy on you. "Get to it Y/N." you knew you were royally fucked. Though you two were only "friends" you and Hongjoong had a few established understandings, one of them being that you couldn't enjoy any other group except Ateez or he could punish you in any way he saw fit. At first, it was things like pinches or forehead flicks but then the punishments started to become things like standing in front of him with your clothes off or letting him edge you for hours on end. You weren't complaining, sometimes you would purposely get caught with another group's albums or merch so that he could punish you.

You started to undo his pants and zipper while trying to maintain eye contact, you pulled his hands down then his briefs to reveal his half-hardened dick.

"I'm sorry Jongie." you said still trying to get out of the punishment, he grabbed the base of his dick and the back of your head and shoved his cock down your throat causing you to gasp audibly, he held his dick there as it pulsed in your mouth.

"I don't want to fucking hear it." He had no remorse for you as he started to fuck your throat, you could feel his dick getting harder and harder as it became harder to breathe from your mouth the deeper he would go. "You shouldn't have done it if you were going to be sorry, now you have to pay the price." He lectured you as you continued to gag on his length while his hips never stopped, his thighs hit your chin, that's just how deep he was going.

"I won't do it again." was muffled from your very occupied mouth and it just irritated him more, he sped up the pace he was going, your throat was already sore from the screaming but him fucking it made it worse, the sting from your punishment was exhilarating.

He kept his grip on your hair with one hand then moved his other hand to your nose as he clamped it closed, cutting off your only airway left to use. "You promise you won't do it again?" he asked. You gagged more as you started to choke from your lack of air, he didn't care, he kept moving his hips to fuck his dick in and out of your throbbing throat. You nodded to his question and he released your nose, you thought you were in the clear until he cocked his hand back a bit and delivered a smack on your cheek, you whimpered around his cock and he returned his fingers to your nose to pinch it closed again. "I can't hear you." he said in a mocking tone. You muffled out a yes that was barely understandable as mascara tears started to run down your face, he released your nose once again and you started to take large breaths through it, he once again smacked your sensitive cheek, the sting was amazing.

"I said do you fucking promise?" He said as he pulled his dick from your mouth and looked down at you with a slightly scary face while he angled your head up to make sure you two made eye contact.

"Yes, I promise." You cried out, and he smiled.

"Good job, stick your tongue out." You opened your mouth wide then stuck your tongue out, he placed the tip of his dick on your tongue and stroked himself a few times before the hot ropes of his cum started to cover your tongue. "Now swallow all of it." You closed your mouth and swallowed every drop of his cum, even licking your lip gloss-covered lips to get the remaining off, you showed him your tongue to get his stamp of approval. "Strip and go to the bedroom, but crawl since you like to bark for other men like a horny little bitch in heat."

"Yes sir." You nodded then reached for your shirt to pull it off while he watched you slowly get naked to tease him, you stood there naked before getting on your hands and knees and crawling down the hall to your bedroom, Hongjoong watched you as he followed behind you, his eyes watching you made you wetter. Your slick spread all over your core and thighs, watching was making Hongjoong eager to drill you, once you reached the bed you sat on your knees waiting on his next command.

"On the bed dog."  he commanded, you got on top of the bed, sitting on your knees once again. "Lay on your back with your knees up." you laid back and bent your knees, Hongjoong removed the remainder of his clothes but walked over to the nightstand to get something out of the top drawer, before you could look over to see what he had he climbed on top on you and positioned himself between your legs, he ripped open a condom and you whined. "Shut up, cheater sluts like you don't get to get fucked raw." He didn't waste time and lined his tip up with your sex and put it in. You moaned as he pushed deeper into you, he held the back of your legs and you could feel him holding something hard as he kept a consistent pace inside of you.

"It feels so good Joongie." you moaned.

"Wanna feel even better baby?" He asked with a devious smirk on his face, though you didn't trust him you still nodded your head and closed your eyes to enjoy the feeling, you suddenly heard a loud buzzing sound and as soon as your eyes fluttered back open you saw Hongjoong was placing your vibrating egg right on your clit. By reflex your legs tried to snap closed and you yelped Hongjoong smiled watching you squirm about.

"Fuck, fuck, what, it's too much-" you yelled, he started to go faster while drawing circles on your clit with the egg and biting his bottom lip.

"Aw is that how you were screaming at your little concert?" Curse words and incoherent pleas fell from your lips as he pushed the egg further onto your clit, your head was all the way into the pillow. "What? You can't talk now huh? Spending all that time talking and laughing with them that you're too tired to talk?" He thrust harshly, the tip of his dick hitting your spot hard repeatedly, your fingers began to curl, and you could hear him laughing at you.

"Fuck Joong, Fuck." Was all you could say before your body started to shake, your eyes rolled back as you gripped the sheets hard, your pussy tightened around Hongjoong as liquid erupted out of you, Hongjoong smiled as he looked over the mess he made of you but he needed to push you more, punish you even further. Before you could catch your breath or get cleaned up Hongjoong turned the egg up to full speed and pushed it back onto your clit, you loudly moaned at the sudden fast pace vibrations on your already sensitive nub.

"Please- please, please, please, no more, no more." you pleaded you could hardly catch your breath, especially with his dick still inside you. He started to roll his hips into you until he was full-on fucking you again, you were fucked out and overstimulated as your clit began to ring, you placed one hand on his stomach and he shot daggers at you once again.

"Take your fucking hand away Y/N." He said in a stern and deep voice, you lowered your hand and sat there and took it, the sensation of his dick and the egg was overwhelming but felt amazing. "If you want me to stop, beg for my forgiveness."

"Pleeeease nghhh~ Please I'm so-rry, please, sorry fuck-" You fumbled out, he pressed harder and fucked you deeper by leaning closer, you gripped his back and pulled him closer while your nails dug into him.

"Louder." His thrusting began to get more aggressive as he pounded into you deeply while holding the egg sloppily.

"Please, please, I'm sorry, please forgive me Hongjoong, I'll only look at you forever, fuck everyone else!" You yelled into his ear, and you once again squirted on him and the bed, your tight abused pussy squeezing Hongjoongs dick and this time earning his cum that filled the condom, he cursed as he pulled out and turned the toy off. He rolled and took a seat on the side of the bed to return everything to your night stand then got up to walk to the bathroom to throw the condom away.

You were stuck in your position for a second, as your body came down from your high you slowly started to sit up in the bed. "It's not fair! You know I like it when you fill me up." You could hear the bath faucet turning on before he walked back in.

"Then stop being bad, that's the only time you will get rewards." he leaned over to give you a peck on the cheek before helping you out of bed so he could walk you to the bathroom so you two could take a bath together, he always acts so sweet after being a demon. You went in first to pee then swung the door open when you were done.

"I wasn't being bad, I was going to a free concert... then getting free food and drinks after." You mumbled the last part to not rub salt in his wound.

"Well it wasn't free since you had to pay the price with me." you rolled your eyes, he got in first then you got in after him, the hot water soothed your tense body and burned the new scratches on Hongjoong's back.

"Jeez talking like that like I belong to you Joong."

"You do, you belong to me and only me, so only cheer and look at me... and I guess all of Ateez... but I better be your bias!"

You chuckled at him. "Yes sir"

[matcha-milkies]

LIKE AN OLEANDER

Summary: Bill Cipher needs a footstool and a thoroughly Stockholmed Ford is happy to oblige.

Relationships: Bill Cipher & Ford Pines, Pyronica is there too

Content Warnings: Abuse, Master/Pet, Psychological Torture/Horror/Trauma, Stockholm Syndrome, Victim Blaming, Sensory Deprivation

Tags: Triangle Bill, Canon Divergence - Weirdmageddon, Bill Cipher Wins, Collars, Chains, Whump, Hurt No Comfort, Bill Cipher is a Jerk

Word Count: 1,306

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: Based on @jellyskink’s immaculate Domesticated Ford AU, in which Bill mentally breaks Ford in the 1980s and brainwashes him into an obedient and fawning pet. Weirdmageddon started early, and over time the weirdness bubble surrounding Gravity Falls naturally expanded to contain both California and Oregon. If you want to learn more, there’s a lot more tidbits on their blog, though fair warning it’s a pretty dark and sad AU.

Thank you, jellyskink, for giving me the green light to write a fic for this!

I saw someone say this au is “all pain, no sex” which is really at the heart of what I look for in fics, but is so painstakingly absent in most fandoms, so this is a godsend •⩊•

If you haven’t listened to “Oleander” by Mother Mother what are you even doing with your life /lh

Bill Cipher is in a particularly good mood today. He and Pyronica probably broke a record for largest bonfire in California, even counting all their previous antics over the years. Not the dream demon’s most creative endeavor by a long shot, but hey, sometimes you just gotta start a blazing inferno to let off some steam. Nothing wrong with a bit of simple, straightforward arson now and then.

It’s only when he returns to the Fearamid, practically glowing, buzzing and high off the screams of the innocent, that he remembers the state he left Sixer in.

The man is in a kneeling position, collared by the neck. His hair, fluffy and disheveled, feathers down to around his shoulders, brushing against the cruel blue metal. His twelve fingers twitch and grasp at nothing, futilely, as though groping for purchase on a rugged cliffside. His purple sweater is rumpled in places, like he had pulled and grabbed at that too, to no evident avail. He’s whimpering to himself, words that are at first indiscernible as Bill enters the massive chamber.

The scientist is tethered to a ring near the base of the Throne of Frozen Human Agony, staring vacantly into the middle space, unseeing. It’s not his fault. Bill severed all input from his optic nerves, so he literally can’t see. Or hear. Or feel. Yeah, he cut off those nerves too. It was supposed to be a punishment that lasted a few hours. And then Bill had left and gotten carried away with his fun, and well, it had been an entire day.

Whoops.

Make no mistake, he doesn’t feel bad about it. If anything, it’s kind of funny, like forgetting to feed your dog! Wait. Humans don’t find that funny. Well, who can expect them to understand the emotions of an all-powerful chaos god? He draws closer, and the previously indiscernible words sharpen into clarity.

“I love you, my muse. I love you.”

Repeated ad nauseam to the uncaring void.

“Aww,” Bill clasps his hands together and brings them closer to his eye. “He’s so pathetic!” Pyronica, who came in with him, nods her agreement and laughs along. This must be what it’s like to catch your puppy mid-dream, its little tongue lolling and leg kicking at nothing.

He can’t remember whether he instructed his pet to repeat those words or not. Honestly, it’s anyone’s guess. Bill’s will and Ford’s are so inextricable at this point that Ford often does things without needing to be told. Of course, they’re not entirely on the same wavelength, or else punishment wouldn’t be required in the first place.

“Eh, remind me to snap him out of it in another half an hour,” Bill says, settling himself on the throne. With a wave of an arm he summons a martini glass. “I’m gonna have myself a drink.”

“Sure thing, boss.” He summons a glass for her too, and hipshot, she accepts. “Hey, you think we should’ve put the fire out before we left?”

They both share a hearty chuckle over that. “Would be a shame if it all burned down!” Bill sighs as the laughter dies down. “Nah, but seriously. California will still be there for us to play with tomorrow. And if it isn’t, we can always just rebuild it! In my image! Ha!”

“Yeah. Technically the fires are my image though.”

“Touché!”

They talk for a while, maybe 20 minutes or so in this fashion, casually sipping time punch and discussing unnatural disasters like they’re music festivals. Ford goes completely untouched and unnoticed, until suddenly Bill returns his attention to the human, and a light bulb goes off next to his hat.

“Wait. Do you wanna see something hysterical? I have the best idea.”

Every sensation returns to Ford at once in a flood of color, touch and sound. Sometimes, when Bill is feeling merciful, he eases him back into it, but his merciful moods are few and far between. More commonly, he likes to toss the scientist in the deep end and watch him flounder, tears quickly beading at the corners of Ford’s eyes and spilling fatly over his cheeks. His body convulses in a singular, broken sob, and before he can finish another apologetic, “I love you,” Bill hits him with a hard command.

“Stanford! I need a footstool!” The demon extends his legs and wiggles his feet a little. He whistles as though beckoning a dog. “Come ‘ere!”

Despite his disorientation, Ford rushes to obey, lurching in the direction of Bill’s voice and falling flat on his face. Shakenly, he picks himself off the ground, letting loose a singular groan.

“I’m still waiting!” Bill sings, swinging his legs a little for effect. Pyronica snickers. Ford tries again, following the sound of his muse’s voice, although he is quickly dismayed to find that he’s already reached the end of his chain. He falls just short of Bill’s feet, and no matter how he chokes himself, no matter how hard he tugs at the collar or the chain attached, he can’t go any further than this. His distress is evident in the way he keens.

“What are you doing?” Bill demands, rolling his eye. “All I asked for was a simple footstool and you can’t even do that? Bad! Bad dog!” Ford sobs.

“I-I’m sorry, my muse!” he rasps, the cold metal of the collar pressing in on his windpipe as he strains to obey. “I’m so sorry!”

Pyronica is practically in stitches at this point, and Bill is a showman, a class clown ever chasing the next laugh. “Are you really though?” His eye wanes to an amused crescent. “Do you even love me, if you can’t even follow a command as simple as this?”

“Yes!” Ford insists with a cry. “Yes, my muse, I love you! I’m sorry that I’m so useless… Please, please forgive me…”

“Why should I? Do you think you deserve forgiveness?”

“N- No,” Ford sniffs, “but—”

“Alright, alright. Since I’m in such a good mood, I’ll give you a hand.” Bill waves his hand in a circle and the chain elongates, allowing just enough slack for Ford to crawl under his waiting feet. Bill settles them heavily on top of Ford’s back and sighs. “Ahh, that’s better.” The man shakes under the weight.

“Thank you, my muse,” he says. Normally, he would be a lot happier about serving Bill like this, but he’s clearly still torn up over his recent punishment and failures. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it, kid!” Bill rests his hands behind his ‘head,’ or rather, the tip of his topmost vertex. “Maybe after this, if you’re good, you can have a treat.”

“R- Really? Oh, thank you so much, my muse. I promise I’ll be good.” His voice is still wavery from the earlier-shed tears, but his cheer seems to be returning. It’s not difficult to keep the man happy when he’s so thoroughly and hopelessly smitten with his muse. Bill could have Pyronica drop-kick Ford off the top of the Fearamid right now and when he reached the bottom he would find a way to smile and thank Bill, no matter how many broken pieces he was in.

“Yeah. Now shut up while I get some reading in. Hasn’t anyone ever told you footstools don’t talk? Sheesh.” With a sigh, Bill summons an extradimensional magazine and floats it in front of his eye, every so often flipping through the pages. Pyronica says she’s off to see what Teeth and Keyhole are up to, and Bill acknowledges her departure with a little grunt and wave. Ford stifles a whimper. His back has already been giving him issues lately, and this definitely isn’t helping matters, but he soldiers through it for his muse. He’s determined not to mess up again. He’s determined to be a good footstool.

A/N: This is my first time writing from Bill’s perspective! I don’t usually write him this cruel, so it was a fun change of pace to lean full force into that side of him. Thanks again, jellyskink, I hope you liked this little installment!

[writingsfromhome]

Things to Learn II

A/N: I kind of love writing these characters? tsm for the love on the original I’m glad I got to dive back into their story again. I’m starting a taglist so if you’d like to be on it give me a shout :)

Part 1 / 2 / 3 /

————————————————————

Harry rushes out of the toilets so he doesn’t miss the opening scene and nearly crashes into someone standing around the corner.

“Sorry!” He says as he tries to rush on by.

“Harry!?” The person calls his name.

He stops in his tracks and takes a look at who he just bumped into. And of course, it would be her.

“YN,” he swallows the lump forming in his throat. “Hi-uh what are you doing here?”

“Watching a movie?” She raises a brow. Still the same attitude as before.

“Oh! Right. Yeah. Me too-“

“Which movie are you here for?”

“The Planet of the Apes reruns,” Harry points to the door he so badly wants to walk through. As much as he wanted to stand here and talk to YN, have her attention all to himself, he wanted to watch the movie he came here for more.

“Well I’m here for that new romcom but Raina ditched me to go to that riverbank bonfire bullshit everyone’s talking about. But I hate smelling like campfire afterwards plus I already bought popcorn-“

“Didn’t that movie start 15 minutes ago?” Harry notices she’s standing in front of the poster. Why was she hovering outside?

“Well yeah because I’m wondering if I should be the loser inside watching a romcom by herself.”

Harry doesn’t know if he should be offended—he regularly watched movies by himself during the summer when he had nothing else to do. But then he realizes YN and her opinions weren’t something he took offence to ever since he put down his intellectually superior flag.

“Well I’m here with Caleb if you want to-“

“Bloody hell I was waiting for you to get the hint,” she brushes past Harry and he trails behind, confused.

“You wanted to watch Planet of the Apes?”

“No! I just didn’t want to watch a movie by myself. And you were supposed to invite me.”

“Oh,” these were the social rules Harry often missed. It was sort of nice having YN spell it out for him. “You could have just said-“

“Shh,” she shushes him as they enter the theatre.

Harry was pleased at the way Caleb’s eyes bugged out of his head at the sight of YN.

“I thought you were going to the toilet?” He whispers loudly.

“I was but she-“ Harry cuts off as someone in front turns around with a dirty look. The movie hadn’t even started.

YN sits beside Harry and begins snacking on her popcorn. She hogs the armrest and he lets her, and when she pulls out her sweets and offers it to Harry and his friend they end up swapping most of their snacks. Despite being distracted at first he has a really fun time with the two of them.

Outside in the lobby after the movie is done, YN hesitates after throwing out her trash. It looks like she was wondering if she should stick around or not.

“Thanks,” she finally tells Harry. “Let’s not do this again though.”

“You joined us,” Harry reminds her. She eyes both him and Caleb.

“Yeah, exactly?” She says with a hand on her hip.

“I’m j’saying we weren’t the ones ditched here,” Harry says before he could stop himself. Her pleasant expression falls and Harry can see Caleb concentrate on something far away. Coward.

“Firstly I was invited to join the party but like I said I don’t like smelling like campfire. Secondly, just cuz I told you I was ditched doesn’t make you-“

“Um, I gotta go.” Caleb pipes in from behind. Both Harry and YN turn to him and he almost shrinks. “My ride is here um…”

“See ya later,” Harry cups his hand and Caleb bolts out faster than a cat seeing a dog.

“You were saying?” Harry turns back to YN.

“Look,” she points to the other theatre, the one she’d been standing in front of when Harry bumped into her. “The next showing starts in a bit.”

Harry stares, trying to figure out what she was asking.

“We could watch it?”

“I thought we shouldn’t do this again?”

“Shut up,” she starts walking away.

“Isn’t this illegal?” Harry catches up to her. “I don’t even want to watch this movie.”

“Actually you do,” she grabs his arm and pulls him up the stairs even though he’s following her anyway. Harry tries not to focus on the exact part of his arm she’s touching but it feels warmer than usual. “And secondly nobody is going to kick us out. It doesn’t even matter, do something illegal once in a while.”

Harry follows along with her and they end up having a lot more fun at the second movie. He actually finds it funny and it reminds him of watching these during the holidays with his sister and mum. YN leans her head on his shoulder during an emotional scene and Harry feels like he’s made of clay until she takes it off and laughs at the next scene.

“You had fun, admit it!” YN says as they walk out of the theatre. It was close to midnight now and Harry was planning on walking home.

“Maybe!” Harry doesn’t.

“Liar,” she skips ahead of him. “Secretly you thought my romcom was a lot cooler than your Ape movie.”

“Planet of the Apes, and you enjoyed that one.”

“I’m not denying it,” she shrugs. “C’mon I know you’ve got a sister don’t you watch romcoms with her?”

Harry seems disturbed by the idea, “Not that sort. We watch holiday ones during Christmas but-“

“Oh my god like the Holiday?”

“Yeah I’ve seen that a billion times. And there’s one with Keira Knightley-“

“Oh I bet there is,” she nudges him and Harry blushes. “She does seem your type.”

“Yeah and you probably love Jude Law in The Holiday.”

“Well yeah he’s alright,” she pouts her mouth and doesn’t finish her sentence.

“No way,” Harry laughs. “It’s not Jude Law.”

“You know who’s peng? Tom Hardy. There’s a man I’d watch in a romcom over and over.”

“What?” Harry didn’t know who that was but now he was curious.

“Yeah. You should look him up. Anyway, my ride’s gonna be here any minute so I’m staying here.”

“Oh. Yeah right.” Harry thought they were walking home together but she stays near the closest bus shelter. “Well bye.”

“Bye,” she waves him off.

He doesn’t think he’d see her again that summer. But the next morning she sends him a text saying it was fun and he should come over some time to broaden his romcom education. He thinks she’s joking but the following Tuesday she shows up at his house with DVDs and Percys and although Harry’s mum is surprised to see a girl friend at the house, she orders them pizza and his family gives him the den all to themselves.

After watching two movies back to back and feeling sick from all the junk they’ve consumed they lay on the floor. As evening falls through the wispy curtains of his front window Harry asks YN about her summer and uni. She’s cagey and likes to turn questions around on him but it’s nice talking to her like that with most of her guard down. It almost feels like they’re friends.

***

YN shows up at Harry’s house after dinner. His butt is glued down on his sofa ready to settle into a night of playing video games but the ringing at the door interrupts him.

“Harry!” His sister calls out from somewhere. He was closest to the door and on his way there he peeks through the curtains of the den to see a familiar head of hair. In a cap.

“Hey!” She walks right in.

“Hey…” Harry looks at her get-up: a tanktop and gauzy skirt paired with the trainers she always wore.

“Oh YN,” Harry’s mum pokes her head down from the staircase. “You haven’t been around in a while how are things?”

“Hi Mrs. Styles.” YN was always the perfect angel in front of his parents but his mum was right, it had been a couple weeks since she came by. “I’m good! I’ve been working a few shifts at the shop I do summers at. I had the day off I’m trying to convince Harry to come out with me.”

She was, Harry thought. And she had a summer job?

He’s reminded that no matter how much closer they got, she was always somewhat of a mystery.

“Oh where are you heading out?” Harry’s mum walks down a few steps and sits down.

“There’s a get-together of some of our school friends. Harry never shows up to these things so-“

“Harry,” his mum joins in. “You should go!”

“I never even said no, jeez!” Harry grows flustered.

“But he was totally going to,” YN says to his mum. She laughs and Harry feels peer-pressured.

“Fine! I’ll go.”

“Well be safe,” his mum gets back up. “Make good decisions.”

Harry glares at YN when his mum clears the area and she smiles sweetly back at him.

“Oops.”

“For the record I don’t want to go.”

“Exactly,” she smiles. “Now where’s your room we need to put you in something better than that.”

He was in very comfortable sweatpants and a tee. By the time he was leaving he was in was a short sleeved button-up layered over the same tee and shorts he didn’t even know he owned. She’d forced him to take his glasses off and wear contacts then ruffled his hear with gel and she’d been so close every one of Harry’s senses had been hyper-tuned to her. YN had been oblivious.

“I can’t find my phone,” Harry pats his pockets down as they go downstairs.

“Just leave without it! We’re gonna be late!”

“Can you just call it?” Harry’s halfway up the steps. “I can’t leave without it.”

YN rolls her eyes and calls it. It rings from the den and she walks towards it.

“Seriously?” She walks back out. “You never changed my name?”

Future Prime Minister YN with a heart. It had stayed the same since their group project.

“I guess not,” Harry suddenly feels even more self conscious.

“You can keep the heart,” she goes into his contacts after holding his phone up to his face.

“Hey I never said you could go in!”

“Shush!” She smirks as she updates her name. “There.”

“You don’t want to change the photo?” Harry asks and sighs at her new name: HRH 💖

“No time. Let’s go!” She pushes him out the door.

“I’m going I’m going!” Harry closes the door behind him and they set off down the road.

“You’re so lucky your mum’s so chill,” YN says as they walk.

“Where are we going?” Harry asks.

“My mum thinks I’m at Raina’s watching movies or some shite. Your mum actually like, encouraged you to go out. She didn’t even give you a curfew.”

“Well I never do this,” Harry replies. “What is this anyway.”

“Another bonfire-“

“Does Raina do those like every week?” Harry remembered something about this that night they bumped into each other at the cinema.

“No,” YN says, offended that he would criticize her friend in any way. “The guy she’s seeing right now knows a guy. They do them like a couple times a month. If they did it every week don’t you think someone would catch on?”

Harry shrugs.

“Anyway, you have a decent closet why do you always dress so…boring?”

“I don’t dress boring,” Harry shoves his hand into his pockets. “I’m just comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” she points out.

Harry eyes her outfit again, she looked nice and her legs looked particularly nice in the skirt. Harry looks up in the silence he’d just created to find YN staring at him with a raised brow.

“Had a good look?” She punches his arm.

“Ow,” Harry rubs his arm but he deserved it. He’d been oggling. But ever since she’d gotten into his face to run her gelled fingers through his hair, and the cloud of her shampoo or perfume whatever it was closed in around him he’s having a hard time not glancing at her every opportunity.

“Have you got anyone you’re seeing?” Harry asks.

“Nope,” she pops her p. “With uni starting I didn’t really want to let a guy distract me and fuck with my feelings.”

“Wow,” it slips out of Harry’s mouth.

“What?” She narrows her eyes. “And we’re going right here.”

They turn the corner and she asks Harry again what his reaction meant.

“Nothing. I’m just surprised you’re not having a summer fling or something.”

“God Harry, do you think I just date boys to get off or something? I’ve barely had a boyfriend-“

She cuts herself off.

“What?” Harry missed what happened.

“Nothing.”

“Aw c’mon you can’t say ‘nothing’ now,” Harry pushes. After knowing YN this long, she was still scary, but he’d learned where and how to poke at her to get more answers without getting his head bitten off. “You’ve dated plenty of guys.”

“For someone with his nose in a book all the time you claim to know a lot about who I’m dating.”

“It’s hard not to miss what everyone’s talking about.”

“So you believe all the rumours? In that case it’s probably true you cried your first time.”

“What?!” Harry flushes. “Who said that?”

“But rumours are true right?”

“Fine. You just always had one of the football blokes nearby I just-“

“So you just thought I dated the whole team?”

Fuck, Harry realizes he’d screwed up when she starts to speed walk away. He’d spoken before thinking about what it might sound like from her end.

She starts to walk ahead and Harry fastens his pace to catch up. He reaches out and clasps her shoulder. “YN wait I’m sorry. I didn’t think-“

“Whatever,” she brushes his hand off.

He felt awful. He tries again, grabbing her arm this time and she comes to a stop.

“I’m sorry!” He says again. “Just forget I said anything.”

He’s surprised to see her teary eyes when she turns to him.

“What?” She snaps. “Never seen a girl cry before?”

“No I just—I didn’t mean to make you cry-“

“Oh you didn’t make my cry don’t worry,” she huffs. “I just hate how everyone in school always judges me based on their own fucking insecurities.”

Harry pauses, it was true. And he knew YN was only as cutting as she was so she could be taken seriously—so nobody would walk all over her just because she was a girl. He shouldn’t have made that comment, he knew that. He knew better but apparently he still had things to learn.

“I shouldn’t have judged you like that,” Harry mumbles. “I knew better.”

Her mouth parts slightly, YN wasn’t expecting Harry to say a combination of words that actually sounded better than an apology. She forgives him, but she doesn’t let him know.

“Well…you can make it up to me.” YN threads her arm through Harry’s. At first he doesn’t quite know what to do—despite their budding friendship YN rarely showed any affection or even friendliness in public. This was different.

“How? That sounds a bit sinister.”

“You’re going to get drunk with me. I’ve never seen you drunk before, and I want to be able to have embarrassing pictures of you to use next time you make me upset.”

“No way!” Harry unthreads his hand, regretting the decision a little.

“So you’re just gonna go to a party and watch everyone else drink? Your mum would be disappointed!”

“Trust me my mum doesn’t want me to get drunk,” Harry corrects her. “And I don’t drink for a reason. It really doesn’t take much to get tipsy.”

“Really?” YN eyes him. “But you’re tall.”

Harry shrugs, suddenly his heart thuds in his chest as he catches sight of the smoke of the bonfire. This was real—he was actually going to a class party with YN as his company. He had no friends there. This wasn’t his scene. What was he thinking?

“Have we got to do-“

“We’re going,” YN takes his hand and drags it the rest of the way. “We’re going to uni next year and you’re not going to be a party virgin.”

“I’ve been to parties!”

“What? D&D parties?” YN snorts. “You’re going to an outdoor party with drinks and getting drunk. I want you to let loose. Show everyone Harry the nerd is kind of funny?”

“Kind of?” Harry tugs her hand back. “You snorted at my jokes a couple weeks ago.”

YN looks back at him and Harry’s breath is momentarily caught in his throat. The light of the bonfire reflects in her eyes that crinkle at the corners as she looks at him. She has an amused smile fixed on her face. She’s relaxed completely, unguarded.

He wanted more of that, he realizes.

“Oi it’s about time!” Someone notices YN and waves her down. Harry’s forced to follow. “Brought a date did you?”

“Not my date,” YN rolls her eyes.

The group, amongst whom most had been in a lot of his classes, simply stare at him expecting a name or something. Blimey, he realizes nobody recognized him. YN did a good job with her makeover.

“Good,” one particular bloke—tall with a shaggy overgrown mop of hair peels away from the group and slides his arm around YN. She distances herself in one languid move and continues on.

“Are you lot alright?” YN asks. “It’s Harry?”

“Hey Harry,” a few of them say with a removed friendliness. They still couldn’t place him. Harry would have been offended if this wasn’t the last summer he would see them all.

“Okay?” YN turns to Harry with her eyebrow raised and a joke in her eyes like they were on the ins of something together. It warms Harry’s chest with a gentle ease.

“Harry,” shaggy-hair says. “How d’you two know each other?”

“I’m gonna show Har to the drinks,” YN continues ignoring the guy. Harry’s dying to know who that is. “Anyone seen Raina?”

“She was over there a little while ago,” someone motions towards the fire.

This satisfies YN enough. She turns, “Drinks

“Yeah,” Harry feels lighter being here knowing nobody really recognized him. Like he could be anyone. Maybe he was getting a taste of what being at uni would feel like. He liked it.

He asks YN who that guy was when they get enough distance.

“Oh him? We went out a few times, hooked up at a couple parties. He seems to think that means I want him around at any given moment but he’s a bit clingy.”

A bit was an understatement but Harry stays quiet.

“He looks old.”

She laughs, “Yeah maybe cause he’s 21?”

“What’s he doing with a bunch of teens?” Harry asks, puzzled.

“Oh Har,” YN pats his shoulder and laughs. “Let’s get you a drink.”

“Just one drink,” Harry insists.

But after downing the disgustingly hoppy beer YN hands him Harry starts to feel even better being here. Nobody recognizes him, he has YN keeping him company (after she goes to Raina for a bit and comes back grumbling about her new boyfriend), and the energy at the party starts to really take off as someone turns on a playlist and people really start to mingle.

“So you excited about uni?” YN asks. They’re both sitting on a large rock. Yn has her knees tucked into her and her cheek rests on top. She seemed down after coming back from Raina.

“Yeah!” Harry says. “Finally get some bloody freedom, away from this place.”

“This place?” She slides her cheek across her knees to look at him. She looks beautiful, Harry thinks, before sliding his eyes away. It was still hard for him to maintain eye contact with her despite all the evenings they spent together.

“School. These people.”

“Hey they didn’t even recognize you today,” she chuckles. “I did a good job.”

She reached out and brushes one of his curls. Harry inadvertently leans in closer to her.

“I look the exact same,” Harry scoffs.

“No without those big ass glasses you actually look different.”

“Call me Clark Kent then.”

“Clark Kent.”

Harry looks at YN with an are-you-serious expression and she laughs.

“I didn’t actually mean to call me Clark-“

“I know,” she says softly. “I’m trying to annoy you.”

“That’s not hard to do.”

“Hey!” She punches him lightly. “That’s mean. You’re mean when you’re drinking.”

“No I’m not,” was he? He was just being himself here.

“No…you’re not,” she agrees. “But you’re honest. Anyway, you’re living on campus right? That’s lucky.”

“Why don’t you?” Harry asks.

“I can’t,” YN turns her face away again. “I’ve got to stay at home. Things are…complicated. So I’ve just got to commute.”

“Do you think we’ll hang out at uni?” Harry asks and then flushes as he realizes he said it out loud.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t we?”

Harry shrugs. “We don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“Look at us now,” she leans into him, nudging his shoulder, and the warmth of her pressed into him is a balm to his melancholy. “We’re not gonna have the same labels in uni. Nobody knows us. We just get to be ourselves.”

“I hope so.” Harry says. “Should I get another drink?”

“Really?” YN sits up. “You want another?”

“Yeah!” Harry suddenly feels energized. “Why fucking not?!”

“Alright!” She hops off and he follows. “You also swear a lot more when you drink. It’s funny.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes immediately.

“Don’t be, I like it.” She says and Harry’s heart skips a beat. He floats the rest of the way to the drinks.

He downs half of another beer before he’s recruited to do a keg stand. He’s pretty sure it’s YN’s pretty-boy that jostles him into that crowd. He’d never done one before and YN tries to pull him away but tipsy and brave he gets instructions and allows two strangers to hold him up while he drinks what feels like the equivalent to the Thames.

The boys standing around cheer him on when he stands back up with the longest time out of everyone tonight. If he was anything, Harry was a winner. And he feels powerful: he’s actually seen and celebrated tonight for doing something as stupid as a keg stand. Why didn’t he do this more in school?

“Make way for the goat!” One of the guys shouts.

“You’re all wankers!” Harry shouts. “I just owned you all!”

“Harry,” YN’s hand clasps his and while he shouts celebrations back to the guys he’s dragged away by her.

“It’s Harry right?” A girl he’s never seen before stops YN on her trek to get him far away from the drinks. “I’m Marva.”

“Marva!” Harry pulls his hand from YN and shakes Marva’s. “Nice to meet you…Mara.”

“Yeah nice to meet you,” she smiles. “You’ve got really nice eyes.”

“Thank you Mara. You have really nice teeth.”

“Fucking hell,” YN mutters then louder she says, “Sorry Marva we gotta go. Maybe you can catch up with-“

“Okay I just wanna say that was sick what you did,” Marva points to the keg.

“I’m king of the keg,” Harry says and YN mumbles something to the side but Harry’s too swept in winning, in getting attention from this beautiful girl, to hear.

“Yeah, uhm could I get your number?”

“Uh,” Harry tries to remember his number but it doesn’t come to him. He should remember his number. Why isn’t it coming to him?

“Or I could give you mine?” She says after Harry stands there silently for an uncomfortable minute.

“Yeah,” Harry hands his phone over but his mind keep trying to push through the slosh to remember his number. Soon enough he’s walking away with YN again. “Why is my number? It’s a set of numbers…”

He’s mumbling, an anxious feeling creeping up his chest as he tries to remember.

“Hey,” YN finally allows him to stop. She senses the panic rising in him and lays a hand on his chest. The buzzing stops immediately. “Harry look at me.”

Harry looks down at YN, she was one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. He wishes he could hold her face for eternity. He would live in peace.

“Hello?” She snaps her fingers. “You’re not blinking are you alright?”

“Probably not!” Harry laughs. “I just got hit on by a gorgeous girl did you see that?”

“Yes,” she rolls her eyes. “She was impressed by your ability to drink upside down. What a catch.”

“I am a catch,” Harry motions to the water behind them. “I’m a fish in the sea.”

“Oh my god,” YN laughs. “You’re ridiculous is what you are. That’s a river I thought you were smart.”

“I’m cool now.”

She brushes his hair again, “give a nerd a new hair style,” she drags her hands over his eyes, “put him in contacts,” she continues tracing her hand down his face to his chest, “put him in new clothes-“

She cuts herself off when Harry grasps her hand against his chest. He was sure she could feel his heart racing inside.

They stare silently at each other, the darkness cushioning them on either side until it feels like they’re the only two beings in the night. Like they’re drifting in the dark, tethered only by hands and gazes.

Harry tilts forward, YN doesn’t move back. So he closes the distance and presses his lips to hers, they’re as soft as he imagined. They’re the best lips he’s ever kissed.

Maybe he imagines it, maybe it was a drunk fantasy, but for a brief second she presses her lips against his; she closes her eyes and kisses him back.

The next second, she’s shoving him backwards and scrambling away. Her look of shock and betrayal cuts right through the fog in his brain.

“What the fuck?” She shouts. “Did-did you just fucking kiss me?”

“I’m sorry!” Harry feels his heart in his throat, why did he think she would ever want to kiss him? She was YN, he was just Harry. “I don’t-I’m not I-“

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She wipes the back of her hand against her mouth, adding assault to injury. “Why would you do that?!”

“YN,” Harry stumbles forward but she peddles backward. It’s another punch added, almost deflating him entirely. “I didn’t mean—I’m drunk I’m sorry-“

“Being drunk isn’t a fucking excuse,” she spits.

“I know! I’m sorry!”

“Goddamnit! You’re just like every other asshole of a guy. I thought we were friends! But of course you get drunk and try to kiss me-“

“It’s not like that!” Harry tries to tell her. He was just braver drunk but he’s been in love with her a long time. After hanging out this whole summer he just thought they had a moment there. He read the signs wrong; apparently a bookworm could read wrong.

Maybe he would never be good at this whole people thing.

“Then what?” YN seethes. “Then why the hell—why did you try to kiss me Harry? You don’t even like me why would you kiss me?!”

“I…” he doesn’t know what to say. Of course he liked her. He more than liked her; YN changed his life and he’s starting to like who she makes him be.

But nothing will make this situation better. And the worst part is he feels her slip away, right through his fingers. It’s like one of those jelly toys from when he was a kid; the harder he gripped the easier it slipped away.

“Get fucked Harry,” YN swears. She turns and leaves. She leaves him and he doesn’t think she’ll ever come back.

When the rush of adrenaline subsides Harry empties the contents of his stomach. With his head swimming he picks himself up and finds his way out. With a final glance at the party he’d just felt king of, he spots YN tucked into the body of shaggy-hair and his stomach turns. Why did he ever think she’d want him? Girls like her didn’t end up with guys like him. Why did he ever come to this stupid party in the first place and get drunk? This wasn’t him. Uni or not, maybe he was never meant to change all that much.

***

Harry looks around his half of the dorm he’s just finished putting together with a proud smile. At last the day had come, he had successfully escaped the shackles of school and all its taunting and made it to the uni of his choice. Despite only being a 1.5 hour train ride from home Harry chose to get the full uni experience and live on campus. His life was going to change, he could feel it.

That is, until his roommate walked in.

Messy hair, backwards baseball cap, crewneck and baggy jeans and massive headphones on. Harry already types him in his mind—how the hell did the dorm board pair the two of them together?

“Aw marra,” he holds his hand out sideways and Harry clasps his hand and lets his body gets tugged into his roommate’s bony shoulder. “Harry right?”

“Yeah,” Harry tries to find his balance again. “Roderick?”

“Just Rod yeah,” Roderick throw his duffel bag onto the bed and points behind him. “Give me a hand with the other bags?”

Harry wasn’t much for lifting heavy things but he didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with someone he’d be living with the next year. So he goes.

“When did you get here?” He asks.

“Last night,” Harry wanted to get in before everyone else and avoid the crowds of people. He knew it would be a good way to meet others and make friends—his sister told him the first week was when you made most of them, but he did what we wanted.

Rod barely hears him as they get the last of his bags. “It was packed to shite trying to get in here. Where’d you come in from?”

“London,” Harry answers.

“And you’re staying here? On campus?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to do the commute everyday. Felt like a waste of time.”

“Yeah that’d be crazy.” His roommate agrees.

“What about you?” Harry remembers to ask.

“Sunlun,” he replies. Harry hadn’t heard of it, and reminds himself to look it up later. “I was right ready to lose it driving here. My mam drove me-“

“Oh is she around?” Harry asks.

“No,” Rod laughs. “I’m not starting school trailing after her. But I promised her I’d have a meal with her after moving my—hey you should come!”

Harry has a hard time keeping up with Roderick, despite having longer legs than him he walks as fast as he talks and he talks with an accent that takes a minute to filter through for understanding.

“I couldn’t-“

“No you’re coming,” Rod claps Harry on the back. “She would love seeing that my roommate’s someone like you.”

Someone like you, what did that mean? But on some level Harry knows just by comparing Roderick’s outfit and Harry’s slacks and spotless crewneck.

Harry has no choice but he gets a free meal out of it. Roderick’s mum is sweet and by the end of the meal he understands his roommate a lot better, knows everything about where he’s from—Sunderland, and is invited to “drop by for tea” anytime he’s up north.

Roderick invites Harry to a get-together for first years happening somewhere off campus but Harry feels sensed out and tells him he was calling it a night. Rod looks disappointed but leaves without him. Harry almost feels disappointed in himself. He was supposed to have a different life being in uni, but he didn’t want to make old mistakes and try to be someone he wasn’t.

***

Freshers week is both invigorating and exhausting for Harry as he tries to navigate all of the personalities and social groups without falling back into his usual ways. He attends the talks and the tours, one in which he meets Mikey who was also planning on joining debate club. Harry goes to mixers and breaks so much ice he’s sure he could get a part time job as an ice sculptor.

Harry also attends the workshops and he meets a few more friends there, but mostly when he signs up for clubs he’s interested and goes to their mixers he finds people he clicks with very easily. He doesn’t spot Rod once or anyone else he would have known from school.

On Thursday Harry heads to Newsroom Society Club which was a fancy title for the uni’s reporting club. He has a few new friends he’s made, Florence from one of the workshops and Gabriel who lived in the same hall as Harry as well as Mikey. They were all interested in being part of reporting—the newspaper or the podcast.

Harry stumbles into a projector when he spots her.

“You alright?” Gabriel grabs Harry’s jacket to hold him steady. All eyes are on him as the slideshow on the wall tips off balance and he’s bright as a tomato.

“Yeah I didn’t see that there,” Harry lies.

“Kinda hard to miss,” YN pipes in from where she stands.

Looking at her reminds Harry of the summer. It felt like a dream looking back on it, how they became friends and then quickly drifted off after he stupidly misread her cues and tried to kiss her. Although it was one of the few times he had gotten drunk and he was out of his depth when it happened. But YN had avoided him after that. He knew they were going to the same school but he didn’t think he’d see her this early on.

Harry’s new friends eye YN, assuming she was being rude just because. But when Harry acknowledges her they settles down.

“YN. Hi.” Harry waves awkwardly.

“Harry,” she says coolly.

“You’re here for the paper?”

“The show actually,” YN nods. The girl she’s talking to touches her arm and motions she was heading elsewhere.

“Oh me too,” Florence pipes in. “I’m Florence by the way.”

“I’m Mikey,” his other friend says as if Flo opened a gateway to YN. “I’m also interested in it. Not sure if I’m staying though.”

YN eyes his friends and returns her gaze to Harry. “Neat. I’m YN.”

“You two know each other?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah,” Harry says as YN says “Unfortunately.”

There’s an awkward beat as the group tries to figure out if she’s joking it not. When her lips curl into a small smile and they take the cue to laugh. It amazed Harry how well YN could command a group. Even now.

“Are you going for any other clubs?” Flo continues asking YN.

“I was thinking tennis, I used to play.” YN says and Harry’s surprised to hear that. He’s reminded he didn’t know her much—he never really got to know her that well despite all the time together. She was a closed book on a lot of things. “How about you?”

“Yeah I’m thinking of joining the volunteer committee!”

“Yeah what do they do?” YN asks. “Obviously volunteering but like-“

She doesn’t need to correct herself any further as Flo launched into a onboarding speech about volunteer committee. And Harry’s mesmerized by YN as she listens to Flo attentively, it’s different to the way she interacted with him or Mikey or a lot of people. When she feels him staring her eyes flick up to meet his and then back to Flo. She does it again and he takes the hint, looking away.

He flushes remembering the summer, how things started so well and ended so terribly.

YN ends up sticking to their group as the club organizers gather everyone to do a small introduction of the Newsroom Society. When it ends and they’re left to mingle Harry’s friends ask him what they were going to do for lunch.

“I’m easy, we can go anywhere.”

“I wanted to catch the fencing match they have going on at 2,” Gabriel says. “I might stay behind-“

“Let’s just do the caf.” Harry decides.

Florence turns back to YN who’s with her friend again. “Hey we were gonna grab lunch in the caf would you want to join? Both of you?”

YN meets Harry’s eye and an awkward energy sizzles between the two. It happens so quickly.

“Soph?” YN asks her friend.

“Eh,” she shrugs. “Okay. I’m Sophie by the way…”

Introductions are made all over again and YN and Harry are left herding the crowd from behind at the end if it.

“Hi,” Harry says as they fall into step.

She eyes him first before responding, “Hi.”

Silence as the group ahead chatters away.

“How’ve you been?” Harry attempts small talk.

“Fine.” She replies without returning the question. Harry gets the hint and grits his teeth. It was frustrating knowing she had glued herself shut and it would require a tool he didn’t have to get her to open again.

At lunch she continues to gloss over anything he says and talking with everyone enthusiastically but him, making him feel like he was in secondary all over again.

“We should do this again,” Florence suggests. “You guys are fun.”

Harry thinks Flo just liked having girls to talk to since most of the friends she’d made so far had been Harry and his.

“Yeah,” Soph agrees. “Maybe we’ll all make the Newsroom Society. Flo I think I’ll come to the volunteer thing with you next week just text me when it is.”

Somehow Harry’s friends intermingle with YN’s and by the time classes actually starts he’s seen YN socially more often than he had in secondary.

“YN,” Harry catches her walking out of their international business course. He’d found they had two classes together despite deciding different majors.

She glances up at her name and upon seeing Harry continues walking.

“Hey YN,” he walks ahead enough to stop her.

“Hey. What?” She asks.

“Can we talk?”

She raises a brow.

“C’mon,” Harry turns and hopes she’ll follow. She does. He leads them to a seating area for students in the building’s courtyard. “We should talk.”

“About?”

“Us.” Harry fidgets. “Look, I know what I did last summer wasn’t right. And being drunk wasn’t an excuse. I…I misread the signs and I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to betray your trust like that and. Yeah. I’m really sorry. If we’re gonna hang out and be mates, it’s weird when you’re always mad at me.”

She stares at him for an uncomfortable period and Harry can’t hold eye contact the whole time.

“How many times did you practice saying that?” She asks with a straight expression.

He laughs, “A few times.”

Like the sun after a thunderstorm, her smile slowly brightens the rest of her face as it stretches over her face.

“For the record, don’t ever try to kiss me ever again.” YN lists on her fingers. “Secondly, there will never be signs between us as anything more than friends so just…don’t look for them. We’re just friends.”

“Got it,” Harry mock salutes.

“I’m not done,” she holds up three fingers. “Thirdly, it’s nice seeing you be less…secondary Harry.”

“What?”

“Y’know like, bookish awkward nerdy Harry. You’ve actually got friends, I saw you at a couple parties. It’s nice!”

“Oh,” Harry didn’t think YN thought about him at all. He thought he went back to being a nobody but she was still noticing things about him. Things he thought only he had picked up on.

She was right—he felt more himself the longer he was at uni. It wasn’t easy but he found it easier to make decisions about people and friends, emotions and conversations when the pressure to fit into a box fell away.

Of course, Harry still struggled connecting with his roommate. After declining his initial invite to a party Rod mostly kept to himself and sometimes Harry was asked to give him privacy a few hours some evenings. Harry usually obliged, wanting to still be friends with Roderick.

One of the parties YN saw him at must have been one Rod invited him to. It was the first time he’d really spoken to him since that first day. And Harry had gone to the party just to reduce the friction with Rod. It went over well, he’d even chatted up a girl.

“Anyway,” YN hitches her bag onto her shoulder. “My next class is much later in the day so I’m gonna find a place to crash until then.”

“When is it?”

“Like, 5?”

“Shit, you commuted for our 10 and have to stay that late?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “It was the only way I could fit both classes into this semester.”

“D’you…” Harry reconsiders the rules she’d given him. He didn’t think this was breaking any. “D’you want to come go my dorm? You could…nap or something.”

Her face lights up, “Wait really?”

“Yeah?”

“Um yeah? If that’s alright if-“

“Yeah,” Harry’s pleased to be able to offer something that’s made her light up. “Yeah c’mon. My roommate should be out. My next class is at half past 1 though.”

“That’s enough time for a nap,” YN says as she falls into step beside him.

“You don’t have to leave.” Harry tells her. “You can stay while I’m in class.”

That’s how Harry finds himself walking out of his dorm quietly so as not to wake a sleeping YN. She had knocked out soon after getting into his sheets, and he’s thankful he’d just washed them over the weekend after accidentally spilling tea all over them.

He felt bad that she had to commute for nearly 2 hours and stay the whole day for an evening class. He gives her an open invitation to use his dorm as a hotel when she wanted. She’d corrected him it was more like a motel, and then said his bedsheets smelled surprisingly nice for a motel.

Harry has a smile for most of his walk to class.

Near the end of class his phone vibrates with a text.

Roderick: there’s a girl sleeping on your bed?

Shit, Harry didn’t think he’d be back before him.

Harry: that’s just YN, sorry hope you don’t mind.

R: nah I just wasn’t expecting it lol

H: she’s just crashing

R: she single?

H: what happened to the girl you were hooking up with last week?

Despite not talking a lot, Harry still had the lowdown on who Rod was hooking up with because of the revolving door of girls.

R: mate. That was last week.

Harry rushes back from class but to his surprise he finds YN sitting in bed braiding her hair while Rod leans against his desk explaining something about Sunderland.

“Oh hey Harry,” YN says when he walks in.

“Hey,” Harry tries not to sound too out of breath. “Uh I see you two’ve met.”

“Yeah. YN’s pretty cool, where’ve you been hiding her?”

“I’m not-“

“Ew,” YN cuts him off. “Do they not teach manners in Sunderland?”

Harry watches, for the first time since he’s met him, Roderick stammer and look uncertain.

“Anyway,” YN gets off the bed and adjusts her clothes. “Thanks for letting me crash.”

Harry watched Rod get a hold of himself and YN put her bag back together again. That was the privilege of being so beautiful, she could shame guys like Rod into behaving themselves.

“See you Friday?” YN tells Harry. They had a Newsroom Society meeting. Harry ended up making the cut for the paper along with Gabriel and Flo. YN had made it for the podcast and this week was when they first got assignments.

“Yeah,” Harry says. YN walks past him, squeezing him arm and walking out.

“Marra,” Rod blow the air out of his cheeks. “She’s….something. You should invite her to the party Friday if she’s on campus.”

“Yeah I’ll ask,” Harry says. Weird how the tables have turned, he thinks. Here he would be, inviting YN to a party.

***

Harry doesn’t get a chance to catch up with YN until after Newsroom. He asks her if she was doing anything afterwards.

“Nope,” she rubs her temple. “I have a Saturday shift to work so I was just gonna head home after this.”

“Oh.” Harry says. He forgot she worked. “I was gonna invite you to this party-“

“You?” She points to him and laugh. “You’re inviting me?”

“Erm yeah?”

“I love it.” She says seriously.

“Yeah,” a smile tugs at his lips. “I know. But if you’re busy-“

“Oh no. I’ll show up to a party you’re inviting me to, where is it?”

Harry gives her the place. She tells him one of her friends was trying to get here there too.

“Whatever, I’ll just suffer the consequences tomorrow. Although I’m not dressed for a party at all.”

Harry eyes her hoodie and jeans. Even he knew YN dressed up more for parties.

“Too bad you’re not a girl,” she sighs. “I could just borrow something from your closet.”

“How about the friend you mentioned?”

“She lives a town over so she commutes. Wait, let me see your closet maybe we can make something work.”

“Don’t you make fun of my closet?”

“No I make fun when you wear it. It might look hot on me.”

The idea of YN looking hot in his clothes forces the blood to rush to his head and he has to take a few deep breaths before trailing behind.

Rod’s nowhere in sight when they get to his dorm. Harry unloads his backpack and splays out on his bed, tired from the day and really not wanting to go to any parties.

“This could be cute,” YN unhooks a plain white tee from his closet and throws it on his bed. She picks up a sweater and a short-sleeved button up. She holds them up to her and instructs him to turn around while she tries it on.

Harry’s so tired that turned around he ends up falling asleep, half his body still dangling off the bed.

While uni was really fun for him, and getting to explore different sides of him and learn a whole lot, it was a constant rotation of something. Sometimes he wondered if he should drop a class or a club just to give himself some breathing room. Or sleeping room. But Harry wasn’t a quitter. Instead he was tired a lot of the time and felt like he was constantly catching up.

“Hello,” Harry’s woken by a vigorous shaking. YN peers down at him, lashes long and coated in mascara probably. Her lips are painted a deep pink and she’s put her hair down.

“How did you…” Harry blinks at her.

“I had some makeup in my bag, I just touched it up while you slept.” She sits down beside him. “Now what are you wearing and when are we leaving?”

“I’m just wearing this,” Harry motions to his jeans and hoodie. She raises a brow. “Wait what are you-“

He notices what she’s wearing. His white tee that hangs loose on him has been tightened into a single point on YN’s ribcage, baring her midriff. She’s kept her jeans on but somehow despite only swapping out one item of clothing she looks magnetic.

“Wow.”

“I know right,” she gets up to allow him the full picture even though he didn’t want to ogle any more. “I just went with one of your tees, used a hair tie to style it. I’ll wear my bomber on top. And you can change your hoodie at least. You’ll look like a slob in that, it’s not going to impress any girls.”

“What if I don’t want to impress any girls?”

“Don’t forget I caught you flirting with Sophie last week.” She warns him.

It was embarrassing, Soph had been talking through one of the articles they were assigned to think about for Newsroom and it had turned flirty when Sophie started teasing him. Harry had recently felt more confident in the girl department and he’d flirted back until YN had dropped into the conversation pretending to gag at Harry.

Harry wondered if Sophie would be at the party. He should have texted her to ask.

“Let’s not talk about that.”

“I would actually love to talk about that,” she grins. “But I do want to head out. So wear this and let’s go.”

She throws Harry a crewneck and taps her foot. When she doesn’t make a move to look away he changes in front of her and doesn’t meet her eye.

“You’ve got a tattoo?” YN sounds surprised as he gets his arms into the crewneck.

“Huh?” Harry realizes she’s staring at his ribcage. He forgot he had a tattoo, not often looking at himself naked in the mirror. “Oh yeah. Caleb and I got it for our 18th before we went to uni. He’s moved to Canada for uni so-“

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you.” YN says in a quieter voice than usual. Harry’s hands are still trapped in his sweater, halfway to his head, when she steps closer and traces her hand over the numbers. Her hands are cold and unexpected and he gasps.

“Sorry,” she looks up at him but he can barely look at her. She was touching his bare torso. “Was that cold?”

“Yeah,” Harry clears his throat.

“Any others?” She asks.

He shakes his head, his voice sticking in his throat. He couldn’t move, he was too busy concentrating on breathing.

He slowly pulls his jumper on the rest of the way and only when they head out does he feel safe enough to talk. He tells YN how he planned on getting more tattoos eventually, once he figured out what he liked. It was a bit scary being so permanent but he liked the way he could express himself or hold memories on his skin.

They talk about it until they reach the dorms the party was at.

“Catch you inside,” YN says as they enter. “Don’t get too drunk.”

“Never again” Harry shouts after her. She waves without turning around.

He thought they would hang out here together but he finds himself wandering the dorms until he spots Mikey. He becomes absorbed in Mikey’s group of friends and forgets he’d been here with YN.

At some point Harry finds himself the centre of attention of a girl from his intro to biology class. Mary. She’s cute with a shoulder-length brown hair and animated eyes. When she smiles at Harry he feels his heart flutter.

“What about weirdest?” She asks Harry. They were talking about their shared interest in cults.

“Raelian,” Harry responds. “Have you heard of them?”

“Ooh no tell me about it,” she shuffles closer to him in the stranger’s room they were talking in. Harry had been nursing his drink for the last couple hours and he’d nearly made it look like it was done.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he ignores it. When it goes off again Mary raises her brow.

“D’you need to get that?”

“I dunno,” Harry pulls out YN flipping him off on screen. He still hadn’t changed her photo.

“Harry!” He hears his name shouted from the hall just as the call ends.

“Is somebody actually calling you?” Mary furrows her brows.

“I don’t-“ his name is shouted again but louder.

The two of them shuffle to the hall and YN’s unmistakable face comes into view.

“Harry!” She says in a loud and happy tone. “I found you!”

“YN,” Harry glances at Mary nervously. She seems concerned. “What happened?”

“What didn’t happen amirite?” She elbows him. “Anyway. I don’t feel well and I am going home.”

“Drunk?” Harry scratches his head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You’ve got like nearly 2 hours on the train.”

“And?” She shrugs. “I’ll sleep it off.”

“You can’t do that.” Harry insists.

“Well good thing you’re,” she points her finger into his chest and tilts forward. “Not the boss of me. Oh hey. We haven’t met!”

She spots Mary beside him and she bows to her.

“Heh. Harry. And Mary.” YN points between them.

“D’you need help?” Mary asks. “With her?”

“I don’t need help!” YN shouts. “I’m cool. I’m fun. I’m totally alright.”

“You’re really not,” Harry grits his teeth. He was finally hitting it off with Mary and of course YN had to go and get drunk and ruin it.

Technically he did invite her to the party though. Did that make her his responsibility? Harry wasn’t too sure about that sort of thing.

“I did an amazing job at Ring of Fire,” YN slurs. “Phe-nnnnn-omm-enal.”

“I am going to get her out of here,” Harry tells Mary. He twists his mouth to the side and hopes he looks as sorry as he felt. “I invited her so…”

“That’s alright! That’s what friends are for right?” She smiles. “I’ll see you in class?”

“Yeah!” Harry nods. “I’ll see you.”

With a final exchange of smiles Harry grabs YN by the shoulders and gets her out of the building. The whole time she talks about random things from the night that Harry couldn’t care less about.

“YN why did you get so bloody drunk,” Harry says outside his building. It was a co-ed so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for both of them to go in but Harry wanted to sneak her into his room.

“I didn’t mean to,” she says. “I wasn’t even gonna stay this long.”

Her voice pitches down and she becomes droopier in Harry’s arms. His arms hurt; he should use the gym on campus more often.

“What happened?” Harry continues to entertain her.

She doesn’t say until they reach his room. He prays Rod would still be at the party and breathes a sigh of relief when the other side of the room is empty.

“Sit here,” Harry places YN on his bed and finds a water bottle for her. “Drink.”

“I can’t, I need to piss.”

Harry groans. “Why didn’t you say earlier?”

“I forgot,” she whispers. “Sorry.”

He points the toilets out to her and leaves the door open a crack so she can find her way back. Her mascara’s running when she gets back.

“Were you crying?” He asks.

“No! I tried to take this stupid stuff off.” She sighs. “It really is waterproof.”

Harry shakes his head, YN was a right state and he didn’t really know what to do. She’s always the one in control and in command. He remembers his sister using makeup wipes but he didn’t have any. He improvises with kleenex but she complains that it hurt. He tries dousing one in water but the makeup barely budges.

“Just let me sleep in it,” she complains.

“And get it all over my bedsheets?” Harry shakes his head. “No way.”

“Oils,” YN leans back in his bed anyway. “If you’ve got oil. Or balms. Whatever.”

Harry rummages through the room and manages to find a hair product his sister bought him with oils. He puts some on the kleenex but YN is snoring in bed by the time he gets up to her.

“C’mon,” he taps her face. “Did you seriously fall asleep already?”

“No,” YN cracks an eye open. “I’m up.”

“Good. Here use this.” He offers her the wipe but she whines until Harry gives in and helps her wipe it off. It makes his heart race and he tries not to breathe her in too much. Despite smelling like a brewery, underneath that she smells like YN. The one he knew last summer.

“You can’t sleep in my bed with this on.” Harry complains. Who knows where those jeans have been.

“M’not sleeping in my underwear,” she mumbles. “You wish.”

“Trust me I don’t,” Harry didn’t even sleep in his underwear. “I’ll give you some sweatpants. Please change into them.”

“You’re the worst,” she whines. But does as he says, moving like a sloth. She peels off his tshirt and slides into his sheets and Harry avoids looking at her in her sports bra. At least it wasn’t a lacy one.

She was just a friend. They had both made an agreement. Friends slept in the same bed. He’d probably shared a bed with Caleb before—this was fine.

Harry creeps under his sheets and tries to keep space between YN and himself but she tucks herself into his side and is out like a light.

***

Harry wakes to a shock of cold on his thigh. His eyes rip open and he yanks himself away from the freeze.

It takes him a moment to register YN giggling beside him.

“What the fuck!” Harry groans and turns on his back. At some point he’d turned towards YN and they’d probably slept facing each other. It was better than any other alternative he figured.

“Sorry,” she says without sounding a single bit sorry. “I just had to do it.”

“I literally let you crash in the same tiny bed as me and you repay me like that!?” Harry says to the ceiling. Sleep still tries to pull him back in but he fights it—with YN up he probably wasn’t going to get any more sleep.

“Okay no I shouldn’t have done that sorry.” She apologizes. “You wouldn’t happen to have like paracetamol or-“

“It’s in the desk drawer—what are you—ow!”

YN had started climbing over him as he answered and nearly kneed him between the legs.

“Sorry!” She whispers. Harry glances at his roommate to find him sleeping in his bed. He hoped Rod was too drunk to notice YN in his bed when he came in.

Harry decides to just get up then and eventually he walks YN to the bus terminal both of them full on caf coffee and breakfast. She was going to cut it close for her shift but she didn’t seem to care.

“Thanks for taking care of me last night,” YN says as the bus comes into view. She doesn’t look him in the eye as she says it and he can barely look at her saying it. “You didn’t have to and you did.”

“It’s nothing,” Harry says, equally uncomfortable with YN’s vulnerability.

“I saw an ex,” she meets his gaze. “I didn’t think I’d run into him after all this time. That’s kinda why I drank more than I intended. I wasn’t supposed to inconvenience you—hey, weren’t you talking to some girl last-“

“Yeah,” Harry hoped Mary wasn’t too weirded out by YN. “It’s fine. I’ve got class with her.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” she slaps her hand to her forehead. “I hope I didn’t make things weird. I owe you.”

“It’s alright,” Harry finally meets her eye and realizes it was alright. He could be friends with YN and maybe this could work. “It’s what friends do.”

“Really?” She asks.

He nods. “I’ll help you home from any party.”

“Awww,” she wrings her arms around Harry’s neck and he takes a step back to steady her. He forces his brain to think only friendly thoughts, and not how steady his hand feels on her lower back or how nice her hair smells, as he returns the hug. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

She leans back and pats his face. “You’re growing up so much. Look at how much nicer you are.”

Harry blushes and she laughs at him as she runs to catch the bus. He watches the bus wink out of sight and sighs.

It was in part thanks to YN he’s grown so much, she forced him out of his shell and pointed out all the ways his intellect can get in the way of being a nice person. And being out of school helped the rest of the way; Harry’s contemplative on his walk back home.

***

“What about orange juice and biscuits?” Mary asks.

Harry thinks about it before shaking his head, “No. it doesn’t make sense.”

The two were having dinner together in the caf. Ever since the party last month they’ve spent more time together in between classes. They weren’t dating but there was a heavy chemistry between them. Harry didn’t realize, Mary was just waiting for them to make the first move.

“Crisps and jam?”

“Why?” Harry scrunches his face imagining the weird food combination. Mary was reading off an article she was reading when he sat down at her table.

She shrugs, “Apparently it’s moreish.”

Harry liked Mary a lot but he sometimes felt he paled next to her, like if he asked her out and she really got to know him she might not like him as much. So he kept her at arm’s length.

“What’s more-ish is the bile coming up my throat thinking of that.”

“A lot of these are pregnancy cravings!” Mary says. “What do we know?”

“Who’s pregnant?” Flo asks as she sits beside Mary. Mikey joins the table too.

“Nobody’s pregnant,” Harry corrects. “We’re just reading an article.”

“No actually, the computer science prof that everyone hates is pregnant. She’s not teaching next semester anyone who’s interested should take it then.” Flo informs the group.

“Can you imagine?” Mary turns to her. “Being so hated that the one semester you’re not teaching there’s a massive waiting list on your course?”

The group begins to discuss this particular prof and Harry fades into a listener. Mary catches his eye a few times and sends a bright smile his way and Harry keeps it tucked within.

Now a couple months into uni Harry was starting to find a rhythm that he was able to ride. He had more friends than he’s ever had, regularly went to parties and hung out with them, Rod and him were good friends by some way of YN, and uni challenged Harry’s brain in a good way.

Him and YN didn’t hang out very much but he often saw her at parties, in the Newsroom, or if he came back to his dorm while she napped. If had become part of their regular schedule for her to use his dorm to nap and Harry was more than happy to let her. Rod was too—even happier than Harry sometimes.

“Are you going to the Halloween thing Harry?” Mikey asks.

“Huh?” Harry had zoned out. “Uh I think so. Yeah. Why not?”

“Awesome,” Flo says. “We should go together.”

“We’re not doing matching costumed Flo,” Harry says for the tenth time this month.

“Why not?!” She cries. The table becomes noisy again as they argue the same thing they’ve argued since October started. Harry feels at home.

***

Just finished my mid-term, Harry texts Mary. We should celebrate with drinks later.

Yeah after I finish mine later today, would love to. Mary texts back.

Harry smiles at his phone and switches chat to YN.

Are you still at mine?

She doesn’t reply and Harry figures she’s either sleeping or maybe writing a mid-term. He knew she had one later this afternoon—the same class as Mary.

Uni turned out to be a small world, he’d found a few people he already knew in these halls and somehow new friends and old acquaintances had all mingled together.

The good thing was now that he regularly wore contacts and started putting in some effort in how he looked, a lot of his old classmates either walked past him with no recognition or spoke to him like they weren’t the reason he had one friend in secondary.

It still took some adjusting to: here he was, bottom-rung at his old school, asking someone at the top rung if she was still sleeping in his bed. It was mad.

Harry turns the key of his door and freezes at what’s before him.

His roommate Roderick sits on his bed with his back to the wall and someone looking very much like—no it was YN because her jacket lay on his bed, straddling his lap. YN and his roommate were making out.

“What is this?” Harry asks when his senses return. “What’s going on?”

“Oh hey Har,” Rod looks past YN. He was so casual, Harry felt a little crazy at thinking this was a big deal.

“Oh,” YN turns and unhooks her legs from around Rod. “You’re done your exam. How was it?”

Were they insane it was he just a prude? Harry’s roommate was making out with his friend. That regularly crashed in his room. Has this been going on for a while?

“Good. Fine. YN can we talk?” Harry asks.

“Sure,” YN climbs off the bed and fixes her lipstick whilst passing the mirror. Harry nods to the hall and she steps out. “What’s up?”

“What…what’s going on there?”

“What? Rod?”

“Obviously!”

“Oh my god Har, it’s nothing serious we were just making out.”

“For how long?”

“I dunno? Why do you want to know?”

“No like how long have you two been hooking up?”

“We were just making out today why’ve you got your panties in a twist?”

“So this is the first time?”

“No…we made out at a party last week. Anyway I was just studying on your bed after getting a nap in and he walked in. It got flirty, one thing led to another-“

“I’m not comfortable with this.” Harry clenched his teeth. He didn’t know why but it felt wrong they were doing this in his room. After he’d opened it up for her to give her a break from the constant commuting. What if things go sour between them and Rod takes it out on him? What if she ruins the vibe of their dorm?

“Harry,” YN lays a hand on his shoulder with a serious face. “You know I’ve kissed boys before. Done even more than-“

“This isn’t a joke,” Harry brushes her hand off. “I don’t feel comfortable with you doing…that in the room.”

“So now you’re deciding who I can see-“

“No!” Harry shouts a bit too loud and someone on the other end of the hall looks up. “No. You know that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t care who you hook up with YN. Just not in my room with my roommate. Do whatever you want with him at parties but not in my room. I don’t care what you do. Just…not in my room.”

Harry shuts up once he realizes he’s repeating himself. He hopes she understands.

“Fine.” She does her classic move. She shuts down. “I’ll be a devout virgin in your room. Outside I’ll be the wild child I am.”

“YN don’t twist this,” Harry sighs. “Why do you do that?”

“I’ve got an exam in a couple hours.” She opens the door. “I should go.”

“Already?” Rod says as they walk in.

“Harry’s made a request about us,” YN shoots him a look and Harry wants to take that look and throw it back at her. He was going to break it to Rod differently knowing how tenuous the balance of their friendship was. But now she’s just dropped it like a bomb in the middle of their dorm.

“What?” Rod looks at Harry.

Harry flushes but he tries to look at Rod when he tells him, “I think it’s weird you two making out here. You can do that anywhere just not here. My roommate and my friend…it’s weird.”

Rod blinks, Harry thinks he’s zoned out until he shrugs. “Nee bother. I respect it Harry. I’ll catch you out there then YN.”

YN looks between the boys, her hands holding her bag are curled into fists and with one last angry look to Harry she exits the room.

“Doesn’t look like she’s too chuffed with you man.” Rod pipes in from behind.

She wasn’t chuffed with him half the time, Harry was now used to it.

***

The Halloween party is packed like sardines and Harry considers leaving. Mary had come down with a flu and she’d also been avoiding him the last week. Gabe said she’s probably tired of him not doing anything about their mutual crush, Flo thinks she needs space, and YN says she found someone new to fantasize about but Harry thinks the last one is mostly to get under his skin.

Ever since that day in his dorm YN’s gone back to being bristly with Harry. It doesn’t bother him most days but it does frustrate him on a few.

“Harry!” A familiar face waves him down. The party was in off-campus student res and it was decorated like somebody had gone batshit on Amazon. Just walking toward Sophie, Harry had gotten a faceful of smoke, fake cobwebs, and bubbles for some reason.

“Soph! How’s it going?” Harry hadn’t seen Sophie since she quit Newsroom a few weeks ago. With midterms and club deadlines clashing she decided she couldn’t do both and left the club.

“So much better,” her brightened eyes and large smile fixed on her face clued Harry in that she’d already started drinking. “But I miss the Newsroom crew. How is everyone?”

“We’re fine—you know you could still hang out with us? We’re around.”

“Ugh I know,” she sways towards him. “But I feel like I hardly have time to be social. Social. Does that sound weird—so-shul?”

“I think you’re a bit drunk Soph,” Harry points to her cup.

“Oh yeah,” she laughs. “What about you? You don’t even have a drink!”

“I…I was gonna go get one.” Harry lies. He was actually gonna go home.

“Okay! Someone had shots going.”

She grabs his hand and it tingles. She races around until she finds the half-empty vodka and demands Harry do shots with her. He nearly chokes on it and coughs uncontrollably which sets Soph off.

“Are you alright?” She slaps his back harder than she looks like she could. “You need a chaser hold up!”

She disappears behind the table and pulls out lime wedges from god knows where. She instructs Harry how to do it even though he didn’t want any more but she doesn’t relent.

The second time is a lot smoother but Harry realizes he really did not like vodka either.

“Soph! Har! You two know each other?!” Roderick suddenly walks in on them, crashing the two with an arm around both. “Small worlds!”

“Hey Rod,” Soph’s glow dims a little.

“Now what kind of hello is that? And what are you supposed to be?”

“Scream queen right?” Harry asks as Soph says “Scream Queen duh?”

Rod frowns and takes his arms down. “Well I can make you scream, qu-“

“Alright,” Harry and Soph eye each other. Harry has been to enough parties with Rod to know what level of drunk meant what level of no filter. And it was best they left him alone now. “We’ll see you around mate.”

“Thank you,” Soph whispers in his ear as she loops her arm and they walk away.

“What’s going on with you two?” Harry asks. He’s learned enough to know Sophie soured at the sight of him.

“Really?” She asks.

“Really—what?”

“Him and YN were hooking up a few weeks ago. He was just…ekgh.”

“That’s not a word,” Harry laughs.

“I know!” She throws her hands up, one of which holds a knife.

“Alright,” Harry holds his up. “It’s a word.”

She throws her head back and laughs, then wields the knife against his throat.

“Woah, Soph.”

“It’s fake!” She laughs again.

“Yeah thank god,” Harry lowers it and she tumbles into him with the pressure she had put on it.

“Oops,” she smiles up at him. “Hey how d’you know Scream Queens?”

Blood rushes to Harry’s head as she looks up at him through her lashes. Soph was beautiful—she always had been. But tonight she looks particularly beautiful. It could be the vodka. But he wanted to kiss her.

“I watched it over the summer with…” Harry had watched it with YN. This was YN’s friend. Maybe he shouldn’t kiss her.

“Hm?” She inches her arm up and loops it around his neck. Her head tilts to one side and Harry feels the vodka flood his brain while his blood rushes another direction. “You’ve got really nice eyes.”

“So do you.” Harry barely gets out.

“Our babies would have amazing eyes.” She says with complete seriousness. Obviously she was drunk.

“Yeah. Uhm,” Harry tries to push her away. He does, or he tells himself that. But when she stands on the balls of her feet Harry felt it was rude to not meet her halfway. Not press his lips against her strawberry-flavoured plush ones. It felt amazing.

“D’you wanna go somewhere?” She whispers in his ear.

Harry doesn’t want to. He just wants her to shut up so they can keep kissing.

He leads her gently to the wall and continues kissing her, displaying what he’s learned in his two months at uni. And the noises she makes does unspeakable things to Harry.

“C’mon!” She urges to him. “Surely one of the bedrooms are free!”

At the thought his mind clears for a single moment. Should he be doing this? Was his first time really going to be at a Halloween party with Soph?

“I don’t have any-“

“That’s alright!” She tugs him back to her. “Let’s just see where the night takes us.”

“You’ve got to lose the knife though,” Harry says against her lips.

She laughs and tucks it into his back pocket. “Okay?”

Her laugh scatters away the remaining rational thought and he follows her wherever she takes him.

***

“Alright team,” the head of Newspaper stands addressing the crowd. “This has been an incredible year of reporting. I think we’ve done a fantastic job and I want to commend you all on your efforts and time lent to our humble club. Our final edition is going to print today, and the year’s final episode releases this Friday. So do give it a listen. Next year we’ll be back invigorated with more stories to tell. Have a great holiday all!”

Harry’s eyes roam the room, feeling content at being part of this hard-working group.

Despite only a semester on the Newspaper Harry felt really bonded with everyone. The team was big, split into print and podcast and yet despite not knowing everyone, the passion for stories and reporting was palpable. Especially release weeks.

Over the semester Harry had gotten even closer to Florence and Gabriel, it made Newsroom feel even more collaborative. And they often grabbed a bite after Newsroom or they would sometimes go to Gabriel’s and play video games. YN would join occasionally.

YN, only being a first year, was often frustrated being sidelined by seniors. Her friends often heard about it after particular Newsroom meetings. Still, YN on the podcast team made waves and Harry knew because her name was often on a lot of projects or on the lips of a lot of seniors. It made him proud to be her friend, often it reminded him of how he used to think about her. But Newsroom was a perfect example of how they both had separate strengths and how they flourished in each of them. He’s glad he realized that last year.

Harry’s eyes continue to dart to the door, checking his phone. It was weird y/n didn’t show up today when she should have. Especially the final meeting.

When the group goes for dinner in the caf Harry spots their friend Sophie.

What started as hooking up at Halloween ended in a few other hook-ups over the last month or so. Each time Harry felt incredibly guilty but Soph was really nice to him and nice to kiss too. Plus, Mary had stopped hanging out with him without another word and he wasn’t exactly sure what he did for that. So he’d given her space.

“Y/n wasn’t at today’s meeting, shame.” Flo says to Soph. “D’you know where she is?l

“No, that’s strange. I saw her earlier today?” Soph looks at the group.

“Me too,” Gabe adds. “She’s around.”

“Yeah it is strange,” Harry comments. “She’s usually on time, or at least sends us a text if she can’t make it.”

“I hope everything’s okay,” Flo scrunches her brows.

“I’m sure it is.” Sophie reassures her.

She turns to Harry with a secret smile, one hand sliding onto his thigh. “Any plans after this?”

“Oh!” Harry startles as her hand slides higher up his thigh. This was so…public. “Maybe. Uhm. Soph can we talk?”

He’d wanted to talk to her all week but had been so busy with exams. He thought about it a lot and really didn’t think sneaking behind y/n’s back with her friend was right. Especially after he asked her not to hook up with Rod in his room and she stopped.

Sophie shrugs and follows him off to the side.

“We need to talk,” Harry starts, he waves between both of them. “About this.”

“Yeah?” Sophie asks.

“Yeah. And. About Y/n.”

Sophie just notices the serious tone to Harry’s voice. She stops playing with her hair and stands taller. “Okay. What about her?”

Harry takes a deep breath, trying to articulate his thoughts. “I’ve just been thinking with us being her friend, she doesn’t know about us. I don’t want to sneak behind her back give her another reason to have trust issues—she’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah,” Soph agrees. “Y/n’s strong. She’s got like, that tough quiet strength she just exudes it always. I admire that about her.”

Harry nods, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Exactly. She’s really loyal to her friends, and I don’t want to screw anything up. I just…don’t think she’d approve of this.”

Sophie’s eyes soften with understanding. “Oh.”

“What?”

“You…care about her don’t you?”

“Well uhm yeah she’s my friend I-I yeah-“

“Like care about her.” Soph cuts off Harry’s stuttering. He felt like an idiot.

“Uhhh…”

“Be honest,” Soph curls the side of her mouth. “It’s not like we’re dating I don’t like care if you do.”

“Yeah fine. More than I probably should yeah,” he sighs. “But she’s made it clear we’re nothing more than friends. And I’m fine with that but we go way back and she’s helped me though a lot. I just don’t want to lose her. As a friend. But you’re a really great person too Soph I don’t want to lose. And I don’t want it to get complicated here.”

“I get it,” Sophie shrugs. “But it doesn’t have to be complicated. Or a secret. We’re just having fun!”

“Yeah I just don’t want to jeopardize anything.”

Unbeknownst to Harry and Sophie, y/n enters the caf then and spots the two before spotting their usual table. She heads towards Harry and Sophie first, curious as to why they were separated in what looked like an intense discussion.

“Fine. I get it!” Sophie continues.

“I’ve screwed up with her enough.” Harry says as y/n gets within hearing distance. “I hate feeling like I’m walking on egshells around her.”

“YN’s a tough cookie,” Soph agrees. “I’d be scared to be on her bad side.”

“I’ve been on it. Kinda made my life hell. It’s like facing a lion with just a stick.”

“You poor thing,” Soph touches Harry’s cheek and laughs just as her phone vibrates. “Oh that’s Emmy hold on.”

Harry smiles as she steps away but it dies as y/n steps into view.

“Oh y/n…how long-“

“Walking on eggshells? Didn’t realize being around me was such a burden-“

“No y/n that’s not the-“

“Save it Harry,” her eyes flicker with hurt.

“No seriously!” Harry tries to explain. “I wasn’t saying it like that!”

“You compared me to a fucking lion!”

“Let me explain-“

“After everything I told you about me I thought we got each other Har-“ Y/n cuts herself off as her throat closes with tears. She was not the type to cry in front of anyone, especially a boy. She waits for the feeling to subside. “It’s pretty clear where I stand. And by the way, talking me down isn’t going to make you look good with Soph.”

“Y/n please,” Harry feels her slipping away again and he envisions taking her by the shoulder and giving her a good shake. He hated when she did this, like the tides at a beach she retreated so quickly all he was left with was sand. She never left enough time for someone to grab her.

“Just…whatever Harry.”

With that she turns on her heel and walks away, the noise in the caf suddenly comes roaring in on either side of Harry. He wants to turn the volume dial all the way down and run after her but he knows neither are possible.

“What was that?” Sophie reappears.

“She heard the wrong end of our conversation.” Harry says with dread. “I didn’t mean for her to hear it like that. She must think…I don’t even know what she must think.”

“Mmm,” Sophie squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “Just give her space. I’ll ask her what she heard and explain don’t worry. She’ll come around.”

Harry wasn’t so sure.

***

Harry watches as Mary enters the bar and looks around. For a moment he can just be another bloke seeing Mary for the first time wondering what she’s like with her cropped hair and animated brown eyes. He feels his heart picking up speed the longer he watches her—he can’t believe it took him this long to ask her out officially.

Although it wasn’t entirely his fault.

Harry didn’t think Mary would ever be interested in him on a deeper level—he definitely wouldn’t date himself. And when Mary began to make excuses about hanging out last year, Harry took that as a big glaring sign he was right, instead of just asking her outright.

Then there was the tryst with Soph. And the fallout with y/n who cut him out of his life like she was scissors through wrapping paper. Harry acted like it didn’t hurt him but it did; after all the time they spent together he didn’t know how y/n could be so cold with people she called her friends. She didn’t even care about his explanation.

But Harry’s sister had given him an earful one night during Christmas break, about dating the girl he was really into and not being such a coward. It took him a whole month to work up the courage but on Valentine’s Day he’d asked Mary to be his. It was cheesy but she loved it. They’d hung out a few times and last week Harry asked her to be his girlfriend. He was officially in a relationship!

Mary catches his wave from the front and she breaks into her toothy smile that squeezed his heart every time it was directed his way. Falling in love made the whole world feel soppy. Harry’d never experienced something like this; in a world of learning and achievements this was one he felt really proud to get to.

“What are you smiling so hard about?” Mary teases as she reaches him. Harry kisses her and keeps her hand in his as they sit.

“Just this girl, can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Must be a lucky lady,” Mary grins. She was head over heels too.

“Nah I think I’m the lucky one.”

“God,” Mary pulls her hand away and presses them to her blushing cheeks. “You’re damn charming when you want to be Harry.”

That wasn’t a word anyone would ever use to describe him. Yet Harry feels over the moon to hear it. Here was proof he was changing—he was finally growing up.

The new couple have a few drinks with their food, they talk about school, friends, and the upcoming Easter Break.

“I’m heading home too,” Mary was originally from Liverpool. “My mum’s sister’s coming in from Australia for Easter. She’s got these little rascals I haven’t seen in years so I’ll have to see how big they’ve gotten now.”

“Are those the rascals who stole your Taylor Swift poster?”

“Signed poster,” Mary corrects him. “And yes. As payback because I caught then stealing their dad’s smokes. It’s been 3 years and I still haven’t gotten that back.”

“You really think they kept it?”

“Well we’re gonna find out,” Mary grinds her knuckles into the palm of her other hand. “I’m older and stronger now I can take them.”

Harry laughs, he loved seeing Mary when she was joking like this. Otherwise she was a bit like him when it came to studying and being serious.

“Well you’ve got a boyfriend now. I’ll make the trip if it means getting that poster back.”

“Would you!?” Mary reaches out to him. “That’s actually so sweet.”

Harry’s chest fills with warmth as she kisses him, and that sparks a different hunger. They pay their tab and head out hand in hand back to his dorm.

Rod isn’t in and they take advantage of that.

Roderick and Harry had continued their friendship despite y/n disappearing from his dorm. They’d gotten to the point where Harry declined a couple parties and Rod didn’t take it personally, and Harry actually helped Rod out with some of his studies. They worked out together and there was a better balance.

He did see y/n at parties sometimes. A couple times with Rod too. He tried to talk to her the first couple times but she always danced away just as he got to her. So he stopped trying. She was frustrating.

“Hey,” Mary kisses his jaw. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry,” Harry had gotten lost in his head again. “I think Rod’s gonna be back soon-“

“Oh,” Mary sighs. “Okay. My roommate’s a shut in, too bad we can never go to mine.”

“If I asked him to not come home he wouldn’t,” Harry realizes Mary wanted to cross some bases too late. He really should stick to being in his body more often. He should have messaged Rod as soon as they headed here.

“Maybe next time,” Mary smiles sweetly. She wipes the side of Harry’s lips with her thumb, that’s when he realizes she was wearing lipstick. It was a subtle colour but not as much when it’s smeared on her chin. Something about seeing it like that feels endearing to him.

“Until then,” he pulls her back to him and kisses her hard, she responds in kind. Just as Harry slips his hand below her tee the doorknob jiggles. He sighs, “Fuck.”

“It’s alright,” Mary whispers below him. “That was fun.”

He peers back down at her, her lipstick is even worse but she’s looking up at him like she’s seeing him for the first time. Note to self show Mary how much I like her, Harry realizes.

This time he uses his thumb to swipe at the smudged lipstick. She smiles at him like he hung the stars.

***

Harry would have taken the train home last night to avoid the crowds but it was his last day with Mary before being apart for 2 weeks and he wanted to make the most of it. So now he pays the consequences with a packed train and barely any leg room.

The guy next to him plays some video game on his phone, the person across from that guy is already napping with her mouth open. Harry waits to see who takes the seat across and his heart drops when they finally take the seat and look up at him.

“For fuck’s sake,” she mutters.

Y/n. Of course it would be her. She’s cut her hair since the last time he saw her—now she has a fringe and he’s pretty sure layers with how much they flick outwards from her face.

“Y/n,” Harry greets her. This was going to be one long train ride. Although he wasn’t sure what she was doing here—did she move on campus this semester?

“Harry…” she says with a studied coolness.

“Nice to see you.”

“Is it?” She asks. “Look I’ll just find another-“

She gets up but Harry’s faster. He stretches out his long leg to block the corridor. She’s stuck within the 4-seater.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you in,” Harry says with a small smile. She would be forced to sit in front of him, he would finally be able to get her to talk.

“Harry don’t be so immature move your leg.”

“That’s your seat just take it y/n.” He motions to it.

“Harry!” She tries to climb over it but Harry just raises his leg and it throws her off balance. She nearly falls backwards but Harry springs up fast enough to balance her. That’s how he finds himself standing in her personal space, one hand on her lower back and the other clutching her arm.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Get. Off of me.” She replies.

He lets her go and she actually sits back down. Harry glances around and flushes as he realizes everyone around them had started staring.

“Nice hair,” Harry tries again as the train leaves the station. By then they’d been sitting in silence for at least 15 minutes.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Y/n brushes her bangs.

“So are you on campus now?” Harry continues casually.

This both surprises and irritates y/n. Usually he was very sensitive to when she was being a bitch to him, but now it seemed he was getting some enjoyment out of talking to her despite her attempt at staying cold; something had changed with him.

“No.” She answers as clipped as possible.

“So you’re taking the train home today because…”

“God Harry,” y/n sighs. “I had my last exam and stayed out too late. Now stop asking me questions like I’m in a bloody interview. Leave me alone!”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing the last couple months,” Harry grumbles. The look she gives him could cut him in half.

She studies him, what’s changed she wonders. He still didn’t meet her eye completely but he was challenging her a lot more. She wouldn’t have minded it as much if she wasn’t recovering from a killer hangover.

“So won’t be hard to continue.” She glares.

And that’s how the remaining hour or so is spent sitting across from his friend or ex-friend, whatever. In silence. Apart from a few glances her way he buries his nose in his book and texts Mary as she boards her own train.

Of course, they get off on the same platform and when Harry’s mum catches sight of y/n she insists on giving her a ride home since y/n was just going to take the bus. The two of them sit in silence as Harry’s mum asks them a dozen questions. The ride ends with an invite for dinner and a non-committal yes from y/n.

“You guys get into a fight or something?” Harry’s mum asks as they drive to their home.

“Or something,” Harry mumbles.

“It was like the the bloody DMZ in here.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s just y/n being y/n.”

“I saw her a couple weeks ago at M&S,” Harry’s mum continues. “She didn’t look so good I offered her a ride but she said she was waiting for her sister to finish her shift. D’you know what’s going on with her?”

Harry thought about it but couldn’t think of a single thing. Y/n kept her cards very close to her chest.

“No. She doesn’t share much.”

“Well do you ask?”

“No but even if I did she would just shut me out,” Harry suddenly feels defensive.

“It’s still nice to be asked,” his mum says. “Knowing someone cares enough.”

Harry looks at his mum, the words she’s saying makes sense. But it surprises him to hear them and realize just how much it made sense. How come he’s never realized that?

Maybe he was a shittier friend than he realized.

So Harry gives it a few days and shows up at y/n’s house. This time he knew exactly where to find her.

“You are?” One of y/n’s brothers answers the door. He was a couple years older than them.

“Harry I uh-is y/n home?”

“Maybe,” his brother continues to scrutinize Harry until he squirms. “Wait here.”

He waits for an eternity, sitting down on the stoop while he does. Finally the door opens behind him and y/n joins him on the stoop.

She’s in a blue sweater and pyjama pants. Harry’s surprised to see little powerpuff girls all over them. His sister used to watch that Friday evenings.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I just want to talk y/n,” Harry had practiced looking her in the eye. Just talking to her like a friend. He looks at her now. “You’ve been icing me out for months now it’s unfair. Sophie told me she told you what we were talking about, how you walked in when it sounded wrong and you’re still mad about it?”

She stares at him for a beat before sighing.

As she exhales she grows smaller in front of him until she’s drooped over, her arms circle her knees, and her head rests atop them—she’s the size of a pumpkin.

“I’m not mad at that,” she admits. “Sophie explained you didn’t mean it like that. I was more offended just at the fact that you two were talking about me. But I didn’t realize you two were close…”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that-“

“That,” she cuts him off. “Is mostly why I was upset with you. You made such a big deal that I was hooking up with Rod meanwhile you were banging one of my friends? Behind my back?”

“We weren’t-I wouldn’t say bang-“

“Doesn’t matter Har!” Y/n sits up again and Harry feels the clouds break for a sec as she uses his nickname. “That wasn’t a great way to find out. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Harry didn’t know. Or he did: he didn’t think him and Soph were going to be more than a one time thing and when it was, he was ashamed a bit. He didn’t think he would go to college and have a casual relationship as his first one. It wasn’t something he necessarily wanted public knowledge.

“Maybe I was scared. I dunno. I just know I’m really sorry.”

They sit in silence for a few seconds, Harry hears the hoover turn on in yn’s house.

“Why’ve you got to be so fucking honest for,” y/n finally says with a sigh. “Makes it so hard to be mad at you when you’re all sincere and vulnerable.”

“Sorry,” Harry repeats.

“Stop it!” YN exclaims.

“Fine!” Harry’s heart pounds. “I don’t give a fuck about how you felt. Happy?”

Y/n freezes and slowly turns to stare at him. A smile ever so slowly tugs at the corner of her lips. She almost looks proud?

“Harry!” She grins. Then she punches him square in the bicep. Then gasps. “Have you been working out?”

Harry had been; in between class and clubs and dating, he started working out last winter with Rod.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me y/n,” Harry jokes and y/n snorts. The two look at each other at the sound of it before bursting out in laughter.

“I don’t know where that came from!” Y/n says through laughter. “I literally snorted!”

“You sounded like Peppa Pig,” Harry also has tears in his eyes. He missed hanging out with y/n.

Once they get ahold of their laughter Harry bumps his shoulder into hers. “It’s nice you’re talking to me again.”

She looks like she wants to say something to Harry, her eyes grow intense as she fixes onto him, her chin wobbling, but then it passes. Harry ignores the spark of disappointment.

“Yeah we’ll see.” She says with a half smile.

All was right in the world again, Harry thought.

He should have known, though, being friends with y/n would never be that simple.

*

TAGLIST: hmu if you want to be added

[gingiekittycat]

I miss the narrator

This may be an unpopular opinion, but I miss the narrator from Good Omens season 1.

I will admit, when I first watched the show it threw me a bit. Sure, the narrator's jokes were funny, but I thought that as a story-telling device it was distracting. There was just so much of it all the time, and it often felt out of place. And when I went to look up reviews online, it seemed a lot of people agreed: if there ever was a season 2, the narrator had to go.

But THEN.

THEN.

Then I read the book.

And I realized: the narrator is the footnotes. It's the little jokes in between the plot. In descriptions, in metaphors, in transitions. The narrator is what makes the magic of the novel.

The narrator is the authors.

More specifically, the narrator is Terry.

Terry's influence on the novel, on the story; Terry's influence in the way he and Neil wrote the book. Neil has said before somewhere (I will find the source eventually and add it) that he was writing in Terry's style when he co-wrote the novel. And it shows; to me, when I read Good Omens, I was reading a Terry Pratchett novel. At the time, I had no previous experience with reading Terry's work, and the only novel I'd read of Neil's was American Gods. And in my opinion, Good Omens reads nothing like American Gods.

In subsequently reading more of Terry's work, it became even clearer to me that the narrator in the show was Neil's way of keeping Terry in the story. And maybe it WAS clunky in a visual medium, maybe it WAS distracting, jarring. But it was also hilarious, and whimsical, and playful, and fun. And I don't see how Neil could have done without it and still stayed so true to the novel. The jokes, the metaphors, the descriptions, the footnotes; this is what makes Good Omens what it is.

There was no narrator in season 2.

I will say up front that, overall, I enjoyed season 2. It had so many funny moments, and so many thought-provoking, poignant moments too. It used some dialog from the first book (looking at you Resurrectionists minisode) to remind us why Good Omens is not just a romp between an angel and demon, but also a philosophical, thought-provoking piece of media. It had a lot of Pratchett-esque moments; the Job minisode stood out to me here. The end was, of course, emotional and gutting, but I like emotional and gutting (anyone who has read my fics knows this). But... I found myself missing the narrator. 

I missed Terry.

And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was even on purpose. Maybe the lack of narrator really is illustrating the fact that, when Terry died, he left a hole in the world that can never be filled. You can't make the same show you would have made had Terry been alive. You can't even try. You can make your own thing, you can make it amazing in its own right, but you can't make it the same. And, all said and done, I think that's a very important commentary on grief. When you lose something, or someone, you're not the same as you were before; and it hurts, but you change, you adapt, you grow. Eventually, you make something new.

So... do I want there to be a narrator in season 3?

That's a good question. I think I would accept both outcomes. However, knowing that season 3 is supposed to be the sequel Neil and Terry plotted, I think it would be appropriate to have a narrator this time around. True, we have no novel to base it off of; we don't have any of Terry's footnotes, his metaphors, his jokes. But we have Neil, whom Terry influenced while writing the original novel; we have Neil writing in Terry's style, putting himself in Terry's shoes for a moment (his hat, his scarf). We have Neil, who loved Terry, who has in part made this show as a labor of love, because he promised Terry he would, and he's going to keep that promise. We have Neil to remind us why we love Good Omens in the first place.

And I think having a narrator in season 3 would be a wonderful way to illustrate that. 

[sleepynoons]

akaashi x gn!reader, sfw

cw: mentions of skin picking (akaashi picks at his fingers)

notes: sorry for being afk lol was moving back into college, and now that i have settled back in, here's my obligatory, written-in-30-minutes college!au akaashi bc he is The College Au. happy that i'm beginning to write for hq characters bc they all mean so much to me. also requests/suggestions are closing this weekend, so pls drop by my ask box by then if you want smth!! feel free to drop by for no good reason, too!

THE TWO of you don’t even have to say anything. one glance at each other, and you both shut your eyes and exhale deeply. 

to be fair, neither of you are surprised either. the two other students in your project group are notorious for skipping classes and buying homework answers off of other students. it should have been a given they wouldn’t help out on this presentation either.

the grandfather clock against the adjacent wall is an old thing, really – wood faded and paint chipped off –, yet the ticks of its hands click crisply in contrast to the soft sounds of laminated textbook pages flipping and footsteps rubbing against carpet. just like an old grandparent would, every tick of the clock is a nagging reminder directed at you and akaashi: “that’s one less minute you have to work on that project! oh, and another! are the two of you ever going to get started?”

you pull out your chair and sit next to akaashi, who looks more exhausted than he usually does. there are dark, dark shadows under his eyes, and there are swollen cuts around his cuticles from where he tugs on petty, persistent hangnails.

you shove a hand into the back pocket of your pants. i thought i had one on me, you think, pouting slightly as you continue to feel through crushed receipts, loose threads, and whatever other junk you crammed in back there. finally, you feel the familiar papery texture. there it is!

“akaashi, here.” you slide it over to him, and he glances at it before focusing back onto his laptop screen. it’s almost like he doesn’t recognize the object as he says nothing for a few moments, but then, he looks back and purses his lips, his best attempt at a grateful smile in his current state.

“thanks for the bandaid,” he mutters as he begins to open up the packaging.

you shrug your shoulders and furrow your brows. “i should’ve brought more,” you say. “that’s on me.”

he shakes his head as he wraps the bandaid around the knuckle of his thumb – the most tortured of all his fingers. “don’t apologize. i should be the one taking care of myself anyway.”

“i doubt a single college student can take care of themself, let alone a project meant for four people,” you groan. 

“they don’t count as people,” he deadpans.

you choke a laugh. “akaashi, don’t be mean.”

“i’m only stating a fact.”

at this point, akaashi has already returned to working, typing away and switching tabs every so often. you, too, grab your things to contribute.

the project is more tedious than anything, and luckily, the two of you had completed your respective one-fourths of the work ahead of time. however, the two of you were hoping – naïvely, might you add – that your other teammates would pull through, so you had procrastinated on finishing their parts until the day before the deadline.

and things continued downhill from there. you and akaashi were supposed to meet in the morning to dedicate the whole day to completing and revising the presentation. however, his research advisor emailed him last-minute to help with some urgent manuscripts, so the two of you delayed until 4pm. but then you got roped into a club event, which included dinner and a drinking afterparty, and not wanting to cause a ruckus with your seniors, you obliged. needless to say, it’s now 9pm and there is a whole half-empty presentation waiting to be filled.

at least the one thing that is working in your favor is your mechanical teamwork. you work on a section, akaashi on another, and when both of you are done, you switch to polish each other’s works. akaashi is also a fantastic writer and critic, so not only do you feel like you’re learning from his suggestions, you’re also not devastated in the process. even with potentially very shallow questions, he’s patient.

about an hour in, you mumble, “wait, i’m not sure if this makes sense.” you turn your computer towards him, and he leans forward, slightly in front of you, to see clearer.

from this proximity, you notice the way his nose twitches, along with the way his lips form a pout, as he readjusts the bridge of his glasses. you can also trace the curvature of his ears, following the round of the helix down to the lobe. and his eyebrows –

then again, these are things you’ve known for a while now. you’re just taking note of details you’ve already memorized. you’ve come to terms with your crush on akaashi since the second week of the fall term, truly having experienced love at first sight. but you’re too tired for a relationship, and if you’re exhausted, well, akaashi is probably having a worse time.

and by the looks of it, akaashi suddenly sniffles. you pull out a tissue immediately.

he chuckles as he takes it. “that pocket of yours is pretty handy.”

you frown. because you did miss a detail.

akaashi is flushed from his cheeks up to his temples and ears. and upon reflection, his voice sounded more gravelly, without its usual snark, when he was making the jab at your project mates earlier.

oh. 

“are you sick?” you ask.

the first time he doesn’t hear you, intently reading through your write-up. you ask again, this time also tapping his shoulder.

“sorry, what?” he mumbles.

“akaashi, i said, are you sick?”

a confused expression flashes across his face before ot returns to its typical unbothered look.

“don’t worry about it,” he grunts,

“you should get some rest,” you insist.

“and what about the project then?”

you really shouldn’t be doing this to yourself because it would mean pulling an all-nighter, but you also don’t want akaashi to work while he’s under the weather. “i’ll just do it myself. i’ll send you everything by the morning, so you can take a look over it when you wake up, and then we can submit it by class time, yeah?”

he gawks at you, terrified at your proposal. he shakes his head, adamant when he says, “there’s no way i could let you do that. you need to rest, too.”

“not as much as you,” you argue back. “if you’re not too sick, then you can sleep it off and wake up early to help. but right now, you need to go back to your dorm.”

he fights back, trying to convince you of otherwise, but you’ve already crossed your arms across your chest firmly and are staring at him with a quirked eyebrow, visibly unimpressed.

akaashi can only roll his eyes at your stubbornness.

as he packs his things, he looks over his shoulder at you and asks, “is there anything i can do to make it up to you?”

“akaashi, are you being serious? you don’t need to make up anything. just feel better for me, alright?”

now he’s looking at you like you’re a total idiot.

you just sigh.

“fine, just treat me to a meal or something, alright? now go.”

“i was going to take you out for dinner anyway, but fine. i’ll pay for lunch tomorrow.”

“yeah, sounds good. now go!”

akaashi leaves, and you return back to your work.

the hours fly by. other students begin to filter out, and by the time it’s past midnight, you’re only accompanied by a night-shift student librarian and the grandfather clock. you lean back into your chair, taking a quick breather.

you think back to your conversation with akaashi before he left. gotta finish the project before he wakes up, only six more slides to go, i wonder what we should have for lunch, he did say we’d get to eat together another time –

you jolt. sitting upright, your eyes widen slowly as you recount akaashi’s words. he said he would take me out anyway.

are you hallucinating? so delusional that you can’t tell between fantasy and reality? he said those exact words, right? did he mean it the way you think it means?

the clock chimes loudly as a new hour begins. you’re thrown back to work, but really, you don’t even know how you managed to finish the assignment because, the entire time, you kept thinking about akaashi and his intentions.

what does he mean?

[alicerosejensen]

I love your page so much omg. I‘m literally obsessed with your work😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Also I have this imagination in my mind going on about how Leon would try to help his girlfriend from recovering from her mental health issues since she’s always helping him. I was recently thinking about how he would react finding her not moving on the bathroom floor and trying to bring her back! I rewatched American horror stories and the scene with tate and violet in the first season episode 6 (ig?) is always in my head. I‘m still recovering from my past and my unhealthy habits and tbh recovery never felt better.

If this is too much for you or triggering please ignore this.🫶🏼❤️

I had a terrible period in my life when I was a few steps away from doing something like this in my life and unfortunately this shit often comes out. I'm not sure that such texts help me work through my psychological traumas, which were, in fact, inflicted on me and continue to be inflicted by close people who do not consider me a person, but at least such works help me to vent my pain, which I cannot permanently bury in myself.

I have been postponing this request for a long time because I was probably waiting for the right moment to write this text.

There are mentions of suicide, psychological trauma, severe self-doubt and anxiety, so if this is not acceptable to you, then please just block it.

Perhaps there is a similarity with my previous texts, but I am writing this with strong emotions now that I am trying to cope with it again.

the text is chaotic, I repeat, written while I was under the influence of strong heavy emotions. Maybe I'll delete it later, when my brain gets back to normal a little bit.

If a songbird doesn't sing well, they wring its neck.

Maybe it was the costs of Leon's profession and the result of his constant missions, after which something human is gradually dying in him despite the constant struggle to save everyone. Raccoon City was supposed to teach, if not to survive, then make him begin to understand that some are doomed to die.

Leon Kennedy was taught not to offend, but to protect the weak, especially weak women. But it is difficult to calm the flow of disordered thoughts and put aside the fear that has seized him in order to clamp bloody wrists and apply something to them to stop the blood. Leon knew many strong women: Ada was perhaps the first among them, he did not know either her past or her real name, only the present that pushed their foreheads against each other; Claire, a fighting friend of misfortune that he met in that ill-fated city; Ashley, who turned from a baby eagle into a proud eagle; Angela Miller and others…

Your strength dissolves in the water, coloring it scarlet while your heart stubbornly still beats, let the rhythm noticeably shorten.

In truth, over the past few months it became clear that this was the only way out. When even your loved ones considered you an expired product and did not hesitate to remember this and remind you every time. In the end, their words turned into an obsessive worm that settled in your head, slowly day after day, month after month, devouring you and the circumstances seemed to be not in your favor. Instead of support, you somehow faced reproach, as if the universe was screaming that you were an wrong person, nature's mistake who had no right to live.

Escape attempts were doomed to failure. At first you tried to suppress it in yourself, helping Leon, because, in your opinion, he was the only one who had the right to complain about life, although he did not do this in front of you, because everyone said that you had no problems: you have everything limbs, there are no fatal diseases, all loved ones are healthy and there is a roof over your head, as if this is enough to not fall for nonsense and not walk around forever with a sad face.

This was the last time you shared your experiences. You didn’t even bother telling Leon, but everything inside was torn from constant pain. The feeling was as if you were being beaten by two extremes that led you to the edge of an abyss where you ultimately voluntarily jumped.

no, you really loved him, it was just other people’s words and your own speculation that convinced you, despite your strong relationship with him, that Leon would find someone better, someone more confident in himself, someone who would not be you because you had already missed the chance for a good life because it moved too slowly. Ultimately, a couple of sips of alcohol with sleeping pills and a sharp blade in his hands simply promised to correct the mistake in the form of you with your own hands.

You didn't have the courage to do it any other way.

But you really didn’t think that if you could try to open up to your loved one, you would meet support and not condemnation. Perhaps in a mad world he would be the only one who would heal your wounds as you healed him in your time. Leon clenched his teeth, feeling tears flowing down cheeks, seeing these crimson stains, when he pulled your body out of the bath, holding you close to him, repeating “I’m holding you. It's allright"

He so carefully laid you on his lap, managing to pull out a first aid kit and then bandages to tightly, albeit carelessly, wrap them around your wrist in order to somehow stop the bleeding. At least you were still breathing, thereby giving him hope that everything could still be fixed. the darkness and emptiness came to life, calling in a whisper to dissolve into eternal silence where there is no pain or condemnation. Your body will be in a grave under a gray stone, while the remains of your soul will float like a small grain of sand in infinity.

For Leon, everything happens in a fog; he tried more than once to save people, but he had no right to lose in this battle, even if you yourself surrendered to death. Shaking his head, brushing away the tears, he wrapped your body in a large terry towel, kissed your temple and picked you up, trying to somehow warm you, pressing you closer to him. the ability to provide first aid in the field and pull suicides out of the other world is not the same thing. Leon would have thanked God if he had believed in him, convinced that blood loss was the least of the evils that you had caused yourself, until he saw the remains of some substance at the bottom of the glass that stood on the table along with an almost full bottle of alcohol.

You really didn't give him a chance.

The ambulance took several minutes, which seemed like an eternity. In fact, Leon wasn't sure if it was worth trying to make you vomit when you'd already lost so much blood that it was already seeping through the bandages. Surely you would need a transfusion and Leon is ready to give you all his blood if only you would wake up. Holding his breath, he carefully looked at your chest, watching whether you were breathing and fortunately, your heart was still beating, slowly, but it was still fighting for life.

He stroked you on the head, kissed you, promised that he would take you somewhere else, quiet, where no one would dare to offend you, even if it was your family. You could have just asked him for help, just cuddled up to him and he would have protected you from other people’s attacks, but you preferred to remain silent. Kennedy was tired of waiting for the medical staff to let him in, although relatives should be allowed to see the patient first, but the position of a government agent sometimes had its advantages, and they concerned not only the high salary. When he was let in to you, it seemed to him that you had become half your size while you were lying on the bed, curled up under the blanket. It didn’t work out to pull off a beautiful suicide, which meant that soon angry relatives would come here with new sweat of bile especially for you. They won’t care about your feelings, but Leon sat down next to you, trying not to intrude too much into the space in which you imprisoned yourself, as if this blanket cocoon could be a separate world where you could hide. He spoke to you carefully, hating himself for not being able to understand in time what was wrong with your behavior; perhaps if he had been more attentive to you, the incident could have been avoided. You would see a psychotherapist, take a course of medication, and your environment would definitely be taken care of.

You cry, not letting him come to you, hating how you weren't just left to die and how much you hate this world. Hysteria after hysteria, nervous breakdown after nervous breakdown, in the hospital you repeatedly tried to commit suicide, but the attentive staff managed to prevent this before you inflicted fatal injuries on yourself, and if after some time Leon still managed to carefully break through your armor, then your loved ones This did not concern relatives in principle. You only allowed one person to visit you while you were undergoing psychological treatment and you behaved calmer and calmer, listening to the velvety words that soon all this would be behind you.

“We’ll go home soon,” Leon smiled, gently holding your hand and kissing your forehead, just glad that you’re alive, that you’re breathing and that your psycho-emotional state is slowly but improving. “You know, I have a surprise for you, I think you’ll like it when we get home.”

Soon what happened will become another nightmare in his life, a blessing with a good ending, but for the sake of this happy ending, Kennedy is ready to descend into hell at least every day.

You nod at him and smile a little, fearing that the gift is some kind of party on the occasion of your discharge. In fact, the last thing you want is to see someone’s faces, especially those who diligently hammered into your head how insignificant you are. Why do you even hope that the doctor will postpone your discharge, but the plans for your further treatment were completely different.

On the other hand, after taking antidepressants and psychological help in a special medical institution, how many men are ready to stay with their girlfriends who have been there for several months? For Leon, it seems this was not a significant problem, or he simply carefully did not show it. However, there were no parties, no calls, you simply returned now to his home where there were new interior items. it became somehow more comfortable... but something else surprised you.

Puppy. A small puppy of a couple of months old ran towards you and Leon to meet both of them, but stopped and began sniffing your shoes, while something thawed in your heart.

“Animals seem to help us well, They feel when we feel bad, it seems to me a good idea to get us a little companion,” Leon said quietly, stroking your back while you were busy with the puppy, rejoicing at the little living soul who will love you with the same pure and devoted love.

Ultimately it should have a happy ending too. Leon is ready to go to great lengths so that his beloved songbird starts smiling and singing happy songs again, even if it is necessary to remove other birds from her family who sleep and see how to pluck all her wings again.

You and he also have a chance for a happy ending.

[themoonsbride]

After Dark | Albert Aretz x Reader

summary; Albert and Reader watch a movie together after he spends a long day filming for his channel .

warnings; none

notes; sorry I've been so inactive, I've been busy and haven't had motivation, hopefully I can start posting more often now . ♡ (sorry this is short)

(edit 7/19/23); lmao ty all for the likes even though it's short hehe, lmk in my inbox if I should write another albert scenario <3

°.•♡•.°

I've been scrolling through my phone for awhile now, mindlessly liking tweets and Instagram posts, waiting for albert to finish filming. He told me he'd finish around 7 pm, but it was now 8, and he seemed so occupied he wasn't even able to come out of his office to eat dinner.

I didn't want to disturb him so I just let him in his office and waited, and waited,, and waited. I think he's filming with Kaden because it's sounded like he's been talking to someone else.

"KADEN NO" I suddenly heard albert scream from his office, I almost dropped my phone onto my chin from the sudden alarm. Suppose I was right, I've met Kaden a few times before in the past, and he's really nice. I like his red hair, it's so bright red it reminds me of a tomato. I've also met some of Albert's other friends too, like Denis and Dani (Polarclub) and Temprist. They're all very nice people outside of their work, me and Dani are actually pretty close friends, and Denis is nice to talk to aswell, and his girlfriend is the sweetest.

"KADEN I TOLD YOU TO JUMP" Albert yelled, I sigh and find myself quietly giggling a little. Turning off my phone screen I decide to turn on the flat-screen TV that was kept sat on the black TV table across the king sized bed Albert and I shared. watching one of my favorite shows on a low enough volume for it to not disturb Albert's filming but loud enough for me to hear.

After what felt like the time span of 3 days, Albert finally entered the bedroom, looking worn out. "Hey" I speak softly, smiling at him. "Hey, did you make dinner earlier?" He asked, he probably felt like he was starving since he didn't eat, maybe I should've told him that I'd made food after all. "Yeah, but I didn't wanna be a bother so I just left it in the fridge for you." I reply, a hint of guilt clouds over his eyes as he sits next to me on our bed. "You never bother me, I wouldn't have care if you came in, my editor would've just clipped it out." His voice was slow and quiet. "I know, but I still would've felt bad." I responded as I slowly sat up, facing him properly.

"If you want I can go heat it up for you?" I say, in a question like manner, he smiles warmly at me and places a soft, long kiss to my lips, and I can feel it make my cheeks glow pink. I pull away and begin to stand and exit our bedroom.

When I enter through the doorway, warm porcine plate in hand with Albert's dinner, he's already lay in bed, the comforter pulled up to his biceps with a movie prepped on the TV screen, the lights dimmed lowly. I give him a small smile as I hand him his plate carefully. "I was hoping we could watch a movie together." He whispered down to me, pressing play. "I'd love to watch a movie with you." I mumble, kissing his cheek and snuggling myself into his side, attempting to be cautious of his food at the same time.

[kosmicdream]

Please don’t think of me as a male artist.

..is what i used to feel, for many years, even when I finally came out as trans. In a way, its one of the factors that kept me from pursuing HRT (which im so glad i finally did.) After only one year, my feeling on this hasn’t evaporated completely but i suppose I kind of don’t care anymore about how I am interpreted, as a person/artist, ect.. It isn’t something i can be in control of anyway, which upsets me less than it used to.

Sometimes in the past, the way i write characters has often been analyzed by the gender I am, or appear to be - that my male characters were written like how a woman writes men (too emotional/vulnerable, ect) , or how my female characters are written thoughtlessly- like how a man would. (too horny, stupid, violent, ect.) Its not a new way to analyze a story but I can’t say that it doesn’t annoy me. It could still be true that my characters/writing could fall into sexist/problematic archetypes, but gendering my work based on the way my characters act always reminds me of the “you draw like a girl/boy” comments, which used to be more frequent when i was a teen.. But the idea that boys = angular, good at cars! Or something and girls are, i dunno, gonna draw sexy anime men or something. Even as a teenager, i hated this idea that my art was “girl art.” Truthfully, i always viewed my art and myself as an artist as genderfluid, maybe even a type of drag performance, where i can explore any gender and not be limited by my body, it was my escape from that. Which naturally, it became my place to explore gender presentation and eventually helped me “crack my egg” of realizing i was a trans man.

I do think its important to reflect or regard my work as the art made by a trans man, or transmasculine person. I feel more and more just like “just a dude” these days. I am also a gay man. I think those things are important to my work. I think that the analysis of my work in regards to my identity as a person is important to reflect on. I also think the steps I took to get there were important, that transformation and my continued exploration of my older selves and more “label-less” self in the art i make. That’s a private space for me, that I happen to share with the world too. I feel the audience is part of my work too, I welcome it even. I have become part of the audience too and I look at my work as if I’m also a stranger. The older my work gets, the more of it I can study, the more I can see plainly how I got here and also it feels so confusing how it did. I try to study my art to help me find where I want to go to next, a map to guide me. 

In some ways, I feel more lost than I did before, where all my instinct was pushing me was just to grow and explore as much as possible. Now, I don’t have that same type of energy that I used to. Its not a bad thing, its just different. There’s a sense of duty and commitment and a sense of dread of the time it takes to do what I feel compelled to do on this step of my journey. I am trying to focus more on the things I used to think I was incapable of before and I’m trying to remember the things I used to think were so effortless. I can tell my art is sharper but it feels almost like a mimicry of my older selves - at least when I revisit old work to continue its journey past where its been frozen in time. Comics take a long time, after all, it's normal that after a few years - a story might be yours, but it feels like it belongs to the past of you too, maybe more than it does in the present. I like the commitment I have to my comics though, its not a burden to me. The feeling is strange anyway. 

I tend to think that 1-3 years of a project being made, those are the honeymoon years of the relationship. But you hit a wall in 4-5 years and sometimes you’re in denial about it, you try to keep the dreams and feeling alive as you drag it forward, and sometimes the project really reaches its end around 8-10 years and it becomes a type of empty promise to return to it. Not that this is true for every artist, every project, ect. But I think its a natural lifespan for comics that I’ve observed, and it's because it is uncomfortable to face morality and the morality of our own art. Art is this escape, and when it becomes a job - or an uncomfortable mirror into these things about ourselves, about our failures and promises we couldn’t manage to make, the pressures of the audience, the boredom of the task if you have already told yourself the story a thousand times and you have no longer a desire to continue it, ect - its a normal and natural feeling to want to drop it off a cliff. Blow it up, start over fresh - I know the feeling! Its happened many times. But its kind of temporary? Then, it cycles back to nostalgia - and the desire to create and recreate and reform the past to something tangible again.. uh

Sorry, sorry.. I am getting far from the point I started with. Not that any of this makes too much sense, I feel like writing it anyway. It bothers me that the fantasy of art to me, is the ability to dissolve yourself and stop existing, you are the creator creating. You don’t need to be confined by, really anything. It is in “your control” now, and you surrender your own control by falling into the art and letting it “lead you” places. This is a very seductive process and while it might temporarily be fulfilling (even when done for a lifetime) cannot really.. What.. completely fill the void of whatever you’re chasing down there? Its nice though. At least, when I think about when i first started drawing comics, it was to draw Vash the Stampede (from the original 98 anime series, i hate the new one. We’re not talking about there here) coming out of my television after a thunderstorm and he had to just live in my house now. It was the closest thing I could do to actually manifesting that as reality, of making this amazing anime husband come to life to just like live with me now and be my boyfriend. In a lot of ways I don’t see my pursuit of writing ocs, specifically male ones, really much different from this same desire of like “i can just make my perfect boyfriend!” born out of the loneliness I felt in my heart, and the fear that there is no boyfriend out there for me so i need to frankenstein my own - and this boyfriend will be poifect in every way. Or like, crafting the perfect “relationship” in replace the lack of one, or just the fantasy of watching very abstract extremes come to life in various puppets i crafted, beating the shit out of each other for entertainment. But to subject all these.. Abstract Internal conflicts as simply like a “boy author thing” or “girl author thing” is like.. Tiring. Are we really not past that? (Of course not.) 

Like there’s some hidden truth to the way someone might write/draw, the way that “makes sense” in retrospect once the identity of the author is analyzed and discovered.. How can you make sense of the self, let alone the other .. and In a way that’s permanent? And gendered? Does art now have an inherent sex characteristic? But I cannot deny that I do want my art to look and feel like part of who I am, what I have chosen to sexually identify as - a transgender, a man, a faggot. I DO identify as a sexual deviant, but that is hilarious because I have been single for so long at this point I can’t even remember in a tangible way what that felt like and I question if I ever felt it or experienced it “for realsies” because of the experiences I have had or havent didn’t feel very fulfilling or romantic, despite that being something I desire so much - and so I feel like a failure. And to create art just based on the fantasy of desire rather than the lived reality, can it even really display what that would actually be like. So its embarrassing, right? 

I have worked on my art a lot and I have often thought, or come to the conclusion (true or not) that my singleness is the result of my pursuit and dedication to art - which is the pursuit of self isolation and protection from harm. From influence, from acknowledging that life can exist and someday end. And when you work on projects for years and years, the pride/shame dichotomy only gets more.. Weird. It gets weird, guys! It always was weird, but.. I just think about so many my heroes, my art inspirations, working decades on their art.. I follow in their footsteps too and it feels scarier and lonelier than I expected it to be. And the more and more I realized that as a reality, as my 20s faded away, the more I kept walking. I wasn’t gonna stop now, even if I could, I don’t want to and its not hard to do other things too. I have a slower pace than I used to (thank god) and gets slower but I’m still moving. 

I don’t post or write my little art journals as much as I used to. Mostly cause I don’t really have anything good to say and it kinda feels embarrassing to post them too LOL. But.. whatever!! Its been a weird four months of me being off work and I’m about to go back to being a normal working person again.. But its like, its weird to tell people about your art when they ask about what you do. Its like “oh yeah, i draw webcomics” and they wont get it, you’ll say - “yeah its 8,000 pages long” and they’ll say, “thats a lot!” and it is. They’re very nice about it, but there’s a lack of satisfaction there with what that means. I don’t expect it, that’d be dumb as hell. Its nice to take a break from it too, to discover other sides of myself I never let shine because i stayed indoors for a decade, but its a weird feeling too. Like, what will it mean in the end? I don’t really know. 

I don’t think I need “success” to feel like this was worth it, its not like a trophy is gonna come in the mail for the good workTM I’ve done - there is no closure to the work I make even when a story finishes. I have to keep going regardless of that, and its strange to know it won’t ever feel done. But I am so thirsty for that temporary itch to be scratched, it keeps me working every day for the “maybe” of what that might feel like. Kinda silly, really. Is it my “male” pride that demands recognition? Would respect be given more freely if I had “remained” to be perceived as a woman, for subverting the expectations for what a woman can/can’t write? (lol) Is my value as a person determined by that sort of thing in my art? I don’t think of my pride as gendered, but I know its there and I know because of who I say I am, my pride will be gendered by others. I think when I was a woman, that pissed me off more than now because.. Well.. I wasn’t even living as the way i wanted to. I still don’t really live as the way I want to, the way I want to be perceived, but even being on HRT for a little more than 1 year, without much else lifestyle changes, I feel a little more at peace not mattering what others will take away from me or what i write about. I have a lot of my own expectations for myself and what i write about and that concerns me far more. 

I don’t really know how else to end this, I’m going to eat chocolate now. Oh, to answer your question (?) if you might have this one: can I think of you as a male artist, kosmic? sure. I am one after all.

[velvetures]

Can we please have a cute gaz fic where they are pining on each other and everyone on base is naturally done with their shit ;))

Take It Easy

A/N: This isn't exactly... "spicy", because I used a trope that shot myself in the foot. Anyway, I hope you're happy with how this turned out. If not, let me know. I really love writing for Gaz, and I'd like to get more practice in and feel his character out to where it's more accurate. :) HE'S SO DAMN CUTE IN THIS PIC!!!

Summary: You've always had a thing for Gaz... and he's felt the same way. Everyone else knows it, but it takes a little shock for you both to figure it out.

T/W: injury description, some heat but no spice, suggestive content, Price being a mood-killer, not proofread.

Kyle Garrick is well known as a man of few words, but immense power of action. He’s typically not going to have a handful of words on any topic at one time, and if he does, it’s definitely worth listening. Getting his point across isn’t hard though. Between his very expressive face and the far more interesting use of his hands and touch. Gaz very often employs the use of pats, nudges, hugs, and the occasional slap to ensure you’re on the same page with him.

The problem is, that it made your crush on Kyle that much harder to cope with. You spent so much time around him that it was almost impossible to go more than a couple of hours without touching him in some way or another. By it his knee up against yours sitting on a couch, a hand holding to the back of your parachute before a jump, or putting an arm around your waist to yank you out of harm's way. Rationalizing that he did it for nothing other than practical purposes helped take the edge off. Yet a small crack in your heart deepened when you had to remind yourself that he probably didn’t mean anything by it.

From the first week you met him, Gaz instantly had you wrapped around his finger without even trying. Just seeing him smile at one of Soap’s jokes or hearing him laugh practically melted you down into your boots. Even in his less-than-sweet moments, that little voice in the back of your head and the pulse between your thighs got heavier when you saw him coming out of a mission; dirty as fuck and panting, a hardened look in his eyes and sweat dripping off his face. Perfection, in your opinion, fell short when describing Kyle. Unbeknownst to you, there were plenty of reasons for him to be just as nervous around you.

Smart, skilled, and downright sexy… it was a total package for Gaz, and he always felt like attempting to make a hint or ask you out on a date just to see what your reaction would be. Talking wasn’t his best skill though, and when he was around you there wasn’t a single thought in his head that didn’t revolve around a subtle scream of frustration that he couldn’t just get you alone for more than a couple minutes. He loved how affectionate you could be after working in the same footsteps as himself and the other guys. Plenty of reasons and experiences to leave you jaded or downright pissed off with the world. Managing to keep himself from falling into that same trap got a lot easier after you came around. And maybe it was self-serving, but Kyle liked the idea of keeping you for himself so he’d never have to feel that way ever again. Admittedly, he thought about it a lot. Being a lot more than just a partner.

Through a few mistakes on paperwork and simple logistics, you’d been asked to stay behind for a mission. The 141 had not been expecting the loss of a teammate, but you’d been very quick to reassure them that before you’d come along, they managed just fine and this time would be no different. Besides, it wasn’t supposed to be more than a capture and kill of three terrorist organization leaders causing a bit too much trouble and making everyone nervous. All the intel was vetted multiple times, and you’d even been able to sit in on the briefings up until the last minute before they left. So it was a shock when they came back dirty as hell, half of them covered in blood -not their own- and Kyle hardly able to walk on his own two feet with a massive hole in his t-shirt soaked thoroughly in blood -of his own. You couldn’t have been out of your seat any faster, pushing right past Cap and Soap, shouldering Ghost’s massive body out of your way and staring up at Kyle with wide eyes and a worried look.

“What the hell happened to you, Gaz?” Instantly your hand was pressed softly against the hole in his shirt, feeling thick bandages taped up around the area just left of his abs and below his chest.

“Jesus... you got fucking shot?”

Your mind was already spinning, trying to figure out why he wasn’t in the hospital or at least in the medical wing of HQ getting professionally looked at, instead of standing here like a used gun range target. Kyle watched you with a bit of surprise, looking over your head to see the others staring with wide grins and Ghost shaking his head disappointedly. There was no denying that they all knew how he felt about her, but this was a lot more attention than he was used to getting. Not that he didn’t enjoy it. He huffed a little, putting his hand over yours and taking as deep of a breath as he could manage with bruised ribs and internals.

“Nothing awful, small round,” He attempted to soothe you, but apparently hearing what kind of round wasn’t what you wanted to hear. Your face twisted in anger and hurt, and you looked up at him like a kicked little puppy. It made his heart clench, and not because of his injury.

“Easy… my vest stopped the majority, okay?”

With that, he pulled up the hem of his shirt just enough for you to see that there was minimal blood soaking into the gauze and padded patch over him. It made your cheeks heat up, seeing him quite like that right in front of you. But you tried to swallow down your nervous energy and nod. Kyle just smiled, pulling you just a little closer to him with an arm wrapped around your shoulders, burying his face in the crown of your head with a stiff sigh. You were always so damn sweet… worrying about everyone but yourself. But this felt a little different than normal. He didn’t know why, but that feeling alone possessed him to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, lingering there just to make sure you knew exactly what he was doing before pulling back.

“No more missions without me,” You say quietly, hand fisting in his shirt. “I mean it, Kyle.”

You saying his name was new too.

You hardly ever called him that, and when you did there was a damn good reason for it. He’d always found it endearing realizing that you saved his actual name for occasions when a nickname didn’t feel personal or affectionate enough. Although you didn’t have a call sign like the rest of them, he just murmured your name back into your hair, rubbing one hand over your head softly. Gaz understood that even though he’d not meant to, him coming in without warning of what happened actually scared you quite a bit, and it made him feel really guilty for not thinking that it could affect you any more than it did him. Fuck. He was still alive, and walking… There wasn’t much else to be worried about in the grand scheme of things. Yet feeling you cling to his shirt helped him come to see that it might not only be him who had feelings deeper than two regular operators might share.

“I promise, love.” He squeezed you affectionately; Both of you knowing damn well he’d told a lie just to ease your upset. Yet that was exactly what you needed, and Kyle couldn’t think of anything more he wanted to give you. Well… maybe a couple of things crossed his mind. But that could wait for later. At least until he could actually sit down and stand up without his whole torso burning. He kissed the top of your head again, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo and feeling a touch of dampness like you’d not been out of the shower very long ago. It settled in his mind and bones, helping take the edge off of a long day and the remnants of adrenaline still rushing through his blood.

“Hate to interrupt the party,” The Captain’s dry and somewhat flat tone reminded the both of you that you weren’t in a private room. And that everything had been said under Price and Soap’s watchful eyes. Ghost was long gone, already knowing damn well what was going to happen. He’d already seen it long before either of you quite recognized it, and didn’t feel like staying for the re-run. “But if you don’t mind… finish that shit somewhere else. I’d like to drink my whiskey without all the extra… affection. If you don’t mind.”

Gaz stiffened, and you couldn’t help but blush. It’d been nothing short of instinct, seeing him visibly the worst off of the squad. And now that you were sure he was going to be okay, it had made a lot of little questions in the shape of missing pieces suddenly snap right into place. Unfortunately, it appeared everyone but you and Kyle were already more than finished with the topic and were honestly just hoping you’d figure it out. Price definitely didn’t think it would take Garrick getting shot for you two to stop running circles around each other, but now that was taken care of. So he didn’t have to be so subtle anymore. And neither did Soap, who gave a deep whistle and wink before shoving his hands in his pockets and disappearing down the hallways towards his own room.

“Come on,” Kyle nudged you gently. “Got a couple things I want to talk ya about.”

Walking sheepishly past Price, who’d already poured a few fingers of whiskey shot a somewhat dryly amused look in your direction before settling down in a chair with his feet propped up and a cigar pinched between two fingers. You expected Kyle to ease up a little once around the corner, but he was still hot on your heels with a hand lingering on your lower back, silently guiding you in the direction of his quarters. Patiently, he whispered the code to his door in your ear and waited for you to open it, holding it so he could go inside without having to put too much weight on his ribs or upper body.

He apparently, had different ideas though. The moment the door shut, you were up against it, and Kyle’s chest flush with yours.

“Question one,” His breath had gotten a little heavier, fanning against your mouth and a hand sliding down from your waist to the swell of your hip. “How long?” You couldn’t help the sensation of heat that wavered up through your body, knowing exactly what he wanted to know. It would be hard enough to lie and give a respectable answer, but telling the truth could be just as nerve-wracking to admit.

“Day Two,” You answered back quietly, looking up at him a little timid. “When you showed me around the base. Thought you were so damn hot… You were wearing that grey and white three-quarter-length t-shirt and jeans…” The image was fresh in your mind, and damn if you still didn’t get excited when he wore that same outfit. Gaz gave a breathy sigh of amusement, grunting a little when he leaned a little too hard against you.

“Fuck… wanted you since Somalia,” He panted, nose brushing against yours and his breathing getting a little more labored. “Couldn’t stand everyone staring at you walking down the street after the mission. Knew everything they were thinkin’… Cause I’d already thought it. Wanted to take you right then and there, show them you were mine.” His hand on your hip tightened, pulling you flush against him and the other arm putting a deep arch in your back. Needing every inch of your body against his despite the discomfort in his ribs rising. He tried lifting you, but quickly grunted lowly out of frustration, pausing your shared excitement as you held your hands against his sides protectively.

“I’m not going anywhere, Kyle…” You whisper, raising up on your toes to meet his height a little easier. “Let’s just take this slow… alright?”

You pressed your lips to his, smiling happily when he began trying to take over. Pushing, pulling, whining, and desperately wanting to handle you a bit more but is very restricted by his own injuries. It was hard balancing the desire you knew he had and keeping him from hurting himself even more than he already was. It was a tedious process, but one you utterly lavished in, and hoped would never end. He just felt like everything you’d dreamed of and more. Tasted like honey and brown sugar with a voice that got more whiney and soft with each kiss and gentle touch. You didn’t know how long you’d been wrapped up in his arms and exploring every inch of him you could when he finally pulled back with a raspy groan, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip with a rich chuckle and smile.

“M’not gonna be able to handle much more tonight, love,” He rolled from his uninjured side onto his back, pulling you along with him until tucked tightly against his side with your head resting on his shoulder. From this angle, you could see him staring up at the ceiling with a hardened, and somewhat embarrassed expression. No doubt upset that he couldn’t deliver at least a little bit more. But you couldn’t even begin to accept him pushing through any amount of pain for something that could wait even one more day. Carefully you rubbed your fingertips over his chest, tracing outlines of muscle and feeling little patches of hair on his chest and lower stomach. It felt like a fantasy, actually touching Kyle Garrick… You felt a little guilty for not paying more attention and limiting just how much you’d been physical. But for the most part, you’d been the more concerned with his pain tolerance while he just kept nonverbally complaining that everything he’d been wanting to do was being unfairly taken from him in a cruel stroke of bad timing and a lucky shot.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper, kissing his cheek and nuzzling the curve in his neck. “Should’ve stopped you sooner. I don’t want you hurting, Kyle. I care care about you too much.”

Kyle laughs, a little too hard for comfort, and holds his ribs with his free hand. “Love, you couldn’t have stopped me. I’ve waited too fucking long, and I don’t have much patience left. I just can’t even breathe hard… and nothing we could do wouldn’t make me… excited.”

Your cheeks went hot with embarrassment, hearing his voice lower at the thought. You hadn’t the slightest clue of exactly what he had in mind, but it was for sure that you wouldn’t be doing much of anything but getting your fill of Kyle Garrick anytime you could get your hands on him, and attempting to keep him from going back to the doctor again; having to explain how he re-injured himself. You giggled to yourself at the idea, and it caught his attention. His eyebrows raised in question and you bit your lip, trying to decide if it was worth telling him. You figured at this point, there was no use in not.

“I was just trying to imagine what you’d say if you needed to go back to the doctor… you know, if you hurt yourself with me.”

A devilish smirk plasters itself to his lips, and he shifts over just enough to have his lips brushing your ear. “You know I don’t talk much… I’ll let ‘em guess just what I was doing to you. I’m sure it’ll be more fun that way. Besides, you’ll have plenty of proof on you that I didn’t go easy.”

fuck i love gaz <3

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated