#but. well. a good vent does wonders sometimes

[re-discover-communication]

Did I waste half an hour making this yes I did am I procrastinating yes I am

[the-vibing-ghoul]

some people will be all about mental health awareness and leftist ideals of at least tolerating the mentally ill who show ''ugly'' symptoms until it's someone they know and ''care'' about having a bad day and acting like it in a way they don't find appealing

[feynavaley]

Ugh I've got such a disgustingly huge crush on a coworker of mine. Who is more than fifteen years my senior, I may add. (I didn't learn this until recently, though. I knew he was quite older, but I didn't think so much.)

I cannot even truly explain why, but I'm so smitten it isn't even funny. I'm thinking about him most of my free time. He just has to step inside my office to say hi, and it instantly brightens my day. He thanked me in an e-mail and I read it something like ten times, I was so giddy I had a really hard time focusing back on my work. I spend most of the day in anticipation for when he'll come to have a chat mid-afternoon (he often does) and I'm unreasonably crushed if it doesn't happen. I even caught myself considering working overtime even if I actually didn't need to just because he generally works overtime and that meant I would see him (I didn't, though. I have that much professionality left, at least.)

Readers, I'm in my late 20s. I'm a grown-ass woman. I thought I should have been way past behaving like a love-sick teenager and yet... It's honestly so pathetic, lmao. I can't wait to get over this. 😅

[lets-try-some-writing]

i love it when people apply the whole “humans are space orcs” idea to transformer humans.

jack, miko and raf just doing regular, average day things that make the bots both extremely worried and unsettled gives me so much brainrot.

I got you here. I love this kind of lore/reaction ask.

Each of the children have a particular habit that bothers the team more than anything else. Can it be explained? Not really. All humans do the things they do. But for the bots, it is strange and out of sorts all the same.

Miko always carries around a bottle of sparkling water. She adores the stuff. The team, despite knowing it is not what the name implies, are still horrified with her drinking habits. Not to mention, they can't help but wonder where all the liquid goes. She drinks up to three whole bottles of water a day. In her own words "Hydrate or die." That in it of itself is concerning since the team, while well aware that humans need water, do not know how much they need exactly. The team are down right terrified of her ability to down water like a dry sponge. How can such a small fleshy even consume that much? They aren't entirely sure. Not only that, but if she drinks that much, then are Jack and Rafael getting enough? They can't be.

Not only does Miko down water like a bone dry houseplant, she also drinks just about anything else too. The team have seen her chug sodas which contain Primus knows how many strange chemicals and compounds. They've observed her willingly drink things that no other would on bets, including food that has been blended and watered down just because Jack wanted to see if it was possible for her to down hotdog cafeteria milk cheeto apple slurry.

Yes the team are terrified of humans and their ability to put anything inside themselves and walk it off. But more than any other, they fear Miko. Who knows what she's consumed.

All the kids do it, but Jack is the most notable since when he needs to go to the restroom, he makes it loud and clear mainly so that someone knows to keep an eye on Miko. The team are aware that organics have a need to manually handle removing waste since their systems are rather inefficient, however there is a certain level of mysteriousness surrounding the restrooms. The bots don't want to watch or even know HOW the humans get rid of waste, but they do know that THINGS happen in the restroom that seem to either be painful, emotional, refreshing, or aggravating. No one can really be sure what reaction will follow those who enter the space. Sometimes Jack or one of the other kids will go in there seemingly to just be alone.

It is a strange and almost sacred location where strange happenings occur. Miko went in once with bloody clothes and emerged with a fresh set before Ratchet could figure out what was wrong in the first place. Jack went in once and came out an hour later looking like he'd gone to war after he convinced Arcee to let him stop and get takeout the night before. Rafael took his charger and computer in there and hogged the space for a while to get away from the others once. The team does not know what happens in there, but it is mildly concerning since it either repairs or breaks a person.

Bulkhead theorizes that its a pocket dimension like the shadow zone. Ratchet refuses to think about it. Optimus will say nothing about whatever he knows. Arcee and Bee assume its a safe haven or sorts and Wheeljack is almost certain they keep weapons in there. Ultra Magnus and Smokescreen both agree that the restroom is simply a quiet space where a human can deal with personal issues in peace.

No bot is willing to try and confirm anything since humans flip out at any attempts to view the supposedly sacred ground.

Rafael is generally pretty good about flying under the radar most of the time, but he has a habit that has caught the team's attention. Humans have been noted doing what they can to clean themselves on their own. Its rather ineffective to clean one's own venting openings with digits considering the sheer amount of germs involved, but it is not out of the question to do so when a cleaning cloth is not available. Rafael occasionally and quietly trying to clean his nose is not what bothers the team.

No what horrifies them is the goop that he pulls out after his attempt at cleaning. What Ratchet has studied states that the goop is referred to by a number names, but is commonly called snot. Its the natural germ catcher humans have, but it still unsettles the team whenever Rafael quietly blows a few or when one of the others grabs a tissue and makes a rather disgusting sound as they try to clear their airways.

The goop reminds the team of any number of horrible things. But the sheer amount of GROSS within a small amount of the stuff has left the team all gagging whenever they find the stuff around base. Rafael is usually good about being clean, but sometimes he gets lazy and will use his chair to hide his cleaning attempts. Bumblebee has almost purged a few times seeing the marks on the chair from where Rafael may or may not have wiped his fingers.

Is he twelve? Yes. Is he fully mature? No. That much is evident just by looking at his chair.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

How about headcanons for luci x reader and alastor x reader where they neglect reader and they have to fix it? I just need some fluffy diabetical sweet hurt-comfort xD if you could please 🙏 ☺️

WAP-BAP-BOOM ALAKAZAM here's a thing. I hope you don't mind I make it pre-relationship because I love me some pining

Lucifer x Reader, Alastor x Reader

Summary: Your friend has been avoiding you lately. You spiral and wonder what you did wrong.

Warnings: Anxiety go brrrrrr. Alastor is a low-key stalker, but not in a creepy way? more like a.... 'i adore you from afar' way. Luci disassociates hardcore. Reader does too.

ALASTOR

Alastor started drifting away when he realized he enjoyed having you around

He couldn't find a twisted justification for it and he just couldn't handle it

He didn't want your soul, he had no real use for you, and yet he wanted you with him

So he pushed you away without much thought.

With no explanation to you, btw

Deer boy mcgee wouldn't be (intentionally) rude or hostile towards you, but certainly more aloof.

Conversations turned into curt greetings and goodbyes

Times spent lounging around in the same room turned into a little wave here and there

Attentive listening to your venting shifted to a 'Well that's not good. Tootaloo!' before he left

The guy didn't even ramble about HIS stuff with you anymore

It hurt.

You didn't know why he was suddenly so distant with you. But surely you did something WRONG, right?

You always do something wrong

So you just had to fix it. But you needed to find out what 'it' was

When you passed by him in the hallway one day, he gave his increasingly-common wave before waltzing right by you-

"Wait, Alastor?"

He glanced at you, tilting his head at an unnatural angle. His smile was too tight.

"Did I....Did I do something wrong?"

His eye twitched.

Absolutely not, he'd think. You could do no wrong in his eyes (though his ethics were slightly askew so that might not mean much)

But you looked absolutely distraught

You were trying to cover it up - you always do - but he could tell.

He watches you a lot

"Of course not, my dear!"

"...why are you avoiding me, then?"

...

Shit.

He didn't have a lie ready and his usual quick wit appears to have failed him

Looking at your eyes. Your lovely, currently tearing up eyes-

No no no no no

He turned his attention to you fully, gently cupping the side of your face in one hand.

"Oh, my dear, no need for the waterworks. You did nothing wrong, I assure you."

"Don't lie to me, please. just- just what did I do? I'll fix it..."

He'd typically murder someone for making you feel like this. However, he was the one making you feel like this so that complicated things.

He leaned down, gently kissing away the forming tears at the corner of your eye.

"Simply...sorting some things out, dearest. You did nothing wrong. I just... Need some space."

Why were you staring at him like that?

Did he say something cruel?

Why was your face such a bright red-

OH.

OH

OH

"Well, i best be off! Let's meet for tea later, yes?"

You numbly agreed and he quickly said another farewell before shadow-travelling to who-knows-where

You gently touched the cheek had had been so gently holding earlier, a small, giddy smile on your lips

"Something to sort out, huh?"

Well. You couldn't wait until he finished that up.

LUCIFER

Lucifer had no intentions of being distant

Unfortunately...that just...kind of happens

Maybe that's why Lillith got sick of him

When you're older than all of humanity, time doesn't quite flow the same for him as it does for you.

Add his tendency to detach himself from everything and that gets even more complicated.

But he was doing so well for a while!

He'd leave his room often, he'd talk to Charlie and the other hotel-people, he'd like. Leave the building sometimes.

Maybe it was because he was doing so well that it seemed to you like he suddenly stopped caring.

Or maybe he was sick of you?

You could be pretty annoying sometimes...

You ramble and hyper-fixate and suck at emoting...

OH SHIT yeah he was...probably sick of you

Several days of being mopey later and Charlie ended up talking with you. When you told her what gives, she pretty much confirmed what you feared.

"AGH! He ALWAYS does this!"

"Hun, take a deep breath. Maybe something happened?" Vaggie said, putting a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder.

Charlie's words already had you spiraling.

He ALWAYS did this?

Was...Lucifer just like that?

Your Luci was like that?

Luckily Nifty happened by at that moment, sweeping up the floor with manic glee.

Her big ol' eye watched the scene and she casually stated

"His majesty hasn't moved for like, four days. I know, I dusted him. He's just staring at the wall like this."

Nifty made her eye go comically larger, mouth pressed into a firm frown. Then her usual expression popped back up and she went back to scrubbing everything.

"....oh." You murmured as Charlie was panicking and screaming how her father was dead.

Vaggie managed to calm her down enough for you to explain what disassociating was.

You had a good amount of experience with it

Charlie proceeded to put her face in her hands and feel horrible.

You went to comfort her, but Vaggie stopped you and motioned to the stairs with a tilt of her head.

Oh....Okay, she got the Charlie and you got the Luci

You scuttled away to Lucifer's room

Lo' and behold, the Nifty was correct.

Kind of.

He wasn't exactly sitting there staring at a wall, but he was hunched over his workdesk with his head in his arms.

You put a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades.

"You okay, Luci?"

It took him a moment to respond, but he did. Looking up at you with rather dull eyes.

Which suddenly turned comically large as he sprang up and flailed about, squishing your face between his hands.

His expression went from numb to panic to absolute rage in a span of a couple seconds and it was giving you whiplash.

"Who made you cry?" He growled..

Who...Oh

Oh yeah you were crying earlier

It was so horribly ironic you laughed, tears spilling down your cheeks. Luci blinked one eye at a time.

Adorable

You explained why you cried- that you thought he was sick of you.

He offered to punch himself in the face.

That made you laugh again and you hugged him without thinking, clinging onto the silly gnome-looking man like you'd be erased if you let go

He returned the gesture in kind.

Lucifer clung onto you, pressing his forehead between your neck and shoulder, laughing in shakey, watery breaths

"What are we even laughing about!?" You cackled, tears still rolling

"No idea but I needed it." Lucifer chuckled. He nuzzled your neck, his breath steadying.

"Thank you, starling." he really needed it.

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

Came across this in a fic again and I have to vent for a moment here: Ed's hair isn't unclean or not taken care of. Ever. Even at his lowest, in the first two episodes of season two, his hair is light and blows with the wind, it's got perfect waves, there is zero grime in it. Impossible Birds Ed hair has clearly been fairly recently washed, combed out and conditioned. Ed canonically loves soap, and you don't get that hair without owning a comb or brush and frequently working oil into it. He's at sea! The air is salty! It'll dry out your hair, but Ed's hair doesn't ever look dried out. The day he decides to commit suicide he puts his hair up into a lovely bun, with whispy stands framing his face. I have no idea what some people are watching, because Ed taking meticulous care (and most likely also putting pride and love) into his hair is clear, on-screen canon.

Like, if you want to write about how he was neglecting himself in his depression Kraken era? There's plenty there for you on screen as well! He sobs all night, probably sleeps on the floor if he sleeps at all. He doesn't wear his knee brace. He drinks and does drugs (and admits to that being poison to Frenchie!). He's pushing everyone away, he's pushing himself hard into a role that made him passively suicidal even before the breakup depression. He doesn't watch his back during raids At All. There's so much self harm there to address. If you want to, it would probably be plausible to add him not bothering to properly care for any wounds he might obtain during a raid. But he clearly doesn't neglect bathing and hair care. They're probably the only elements of self-care he actually still does during this dark time!

Even rock bottom Ed doesn't neglect his hair. And that says things about him! It's also something I'd love to see actually addressed in fic (will probably write it myself one of these days...): Taking good care of his hair, putting on jewelry, doing his makeup, these are things that seem to bring Ed joy or relief in his darkest moments. Where's my fic about these quiet moments of self-care being a straw he clutches to when everything else is terrible?

I love a good bathing together/doing each other's hair fic. It's intimate and loving! And Stede and Ed are prime material to write a mutual caretaking and bonding over it couple! Ed canonically loves soap and taking care of his hair! And Stede brought an entire fucking bathtub on a ship, the wonderful madman. S1 Stede's hair is always carefully curled, and we know that's not its natural state (it's wavy but not in this manner) from seeing him in S2, away from his certainly plentiful bath and grooming equipment. Stede probably has an hour of daily hair routine! We know he has nice smelling, probably expensive soaps. Where's the fic where they share in this?

There's so much potential! They can show each other their favourite care products! Sometimes they'll work on each other and sometimes not at all! Ed's rich hair oils will make Stede's hair all sticky and weird! Ed will think it's hilarious and adorable, he'll try to ruffle his hair and make it stick up worse and Stede will pout! 🥺 He'll look like this, just with weird spiky hair! One ill-advised day they try putting Stede's curlers in Ed's hair and then they almost can't get them back out because Ed's hair is so long and has lots of natural wave and it'll cling to the curlers and it's awful (they laugh about it afterwards, once Ed has very carefully brushed his hair out again and it no longer pulls at his scalp).

Makeup was a thing done by men and women at the time, especially for aristocrats (as seen in Episode 5), so Stede will know his way around hoity toity makeup, meaning rouges and whites (contained lots of lead, yuck!). Meanwhile Ed does pirate costume makeup for Blackbeard endeavours, that's a whole different thing. And both of these are makeups they don't actually enjoy doing (Stede avoids heavy makeup for the party, and Ed's Kraken makeup is part of his whole Everything Is Awful And I'm Making Myself Feel That look). But we see Ed do nice makeup that seems to be him! On his supposed to be final day on Earth, he cleans away all the Kraken coal, he cleans up his cabin, he gets rid of drugs, booze, Izzy (everything that was harming him), he does up his hair really nice and in a style that's very much Not Blackbeard, and he puts on a gorgeous bit of eyeliner that really brings out his eyes. And now that they're safe and happy together, when Ed decides he wants to look pretty today, not only can Stede lose his marbles over the look, Ed can also show him how to make his own eyes pop like that. They can stand in front of their mirror together, giggling and trying not to poke anyone in the eye.

Like. This is a fancy bathroom items for fancy bathroom items couple. They will bond over their love of bubble baths and nice smelling soaps and soft oils for hair and skin! They will learn each other's routines and how to do them just right for them. Let Stede learn that Ed loves his baths scalding hot (Stede has to wait a while for it to cool before he joins him in the tub because he'll get all pink and lightheaded). Let Ed learn how to put in Stede's curlers for him if Stede wants his hair to look extra fluffy the next day. Let Ed learn to massage Stede's back and Stede learn to massage Ed's knee. There's so much potential for loving caretaking with this ship. The trope doesn't at all require Ed to not know or not want to take care of his hair and hygiene. Fuck's sake.

[python333]

after hours — python³

― ― ― ―

synopsis you've been stalking ghost for a while now. the issue? you didn't even know you were stalking him.

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 4.02k

warnings usage of [name] as a placeholder for your name, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], ghost's pov, stalking, nonconsensual photography of ghost [nothing crazy, just taking pictures of him while hes out and about]

note i have a tummyache :(

You’re very troubled.

Bright red lights dull to a darker, velvety color as they reach a stark black flooring. They illuminate beige twine that’s strung over clean counters and square plates of clear water, twine that carries several photographs held up by clothespins. It’s very monochromatic, the color schemes in the room. The more vibrant, more lively colors are contained in developed polaroid film, labeled with dates, names, and locations. Your most recent one, labeled as 10/30, Riley, Heaton Park, was taken on the very date, in the very place, and of the very person you’ve labeled it with. Organization has always been very important to you.

It’s a weird contrast, your organization against your troubledness. On one hand, you like to keep everything in check, finding joy in having all of your belongings put together through some sort of connection they have―color, size, name―but on the other hand, something about that cleanliness throws you off sometimes. An unsettling ripple will center itself in your chest and create a circular wave that leaves the tips of your fingers tingling and your head a mess, your brain barely in control of your actions anymore, your hands somehow moving on their own and ruining everything you’ve organized. There’s been moments where your pictures have been ripped from the pins and thrown across the room, landing in water or on the floor or in the large vent in the corner of the room.

You’ve been able to keep it under control for a while, though. You haven’t had an episode in a while now. You scan the photos hung across the length of the twine, searching for a date, then finding one that sounds right. 08/17. So it’s been two months and fourteen days since your last outburst. A pretty good accomplishment, if you do say so yourself. 

“‘s been a while,” you mumble under your breath, your index finger and thumb pinching the bottom of the polaroid, observing it. This one is labeled with Riley as well, taken in a tattoo shop somewhere in Sheffield. It’s a long ways away from where Riley lives, funnily enough. The tattoo artist must be good for him to drive so far. You’ve only seen a few of his tattoos, and wonder if he has any that he’s hiding from you. From you, you mentally scoff, as if he’s thinking about you at all. 

He’s only seen you once. Riley’s a particularly mysterious character, at least to you. He only comes into the shop every other week, buying some variation of beef or pork. Two weeks ago he came in for pork belly, about two kilograms of it, and through some painful small talk, you learned he was making a pork dish for a gathering. He didn’t specify family gathering―he never does, which makes you think that either every gathering is a family gathering or no gathering is a family gathering―so you assume he’s talking about some kind of friend get-together.

Considering the dish he was making, all belly porchetta, you think he’s using around half a kilogram of pork belly per person, since that’s what you saw in a majority of the recipes you looked up. Assuming he did, you can guess that he had about three other people over, four if he didn’t make any for himself. You’re pretty confident that you know who the other three are. You’ve seen Riley around a few other people before, and it’s always the same three, and they have these weird nicknames for eachother. 

Or, at least, you used to think they were just nicknames. The more you heard them talk, though, the more you realized that they weren’t just nicknames. They were titles. Ranks, even. Riley is Lieutenant, or L.t., his friend Price is Captain, one of his other friends is either Gaz or Sarge, and his other friend Mactavish is Johnny. That, you think, is an actual nickname, but still. So they’re military. You’ve never dwelled too much on that fact, knowing that it doesn’t change much of what you already know about their friend group. 

You’re drawn to this friend group like a magnet to steel. You’ve taken a particular liking to Riley, though, who you’ve heard been called Lieutenant, L.t., and Ghost. Riley, who wears a black balaclava and has a blonde buzzcut that screams military so loudly you’re shocked you didn’t pick up on it earlier. Riley, whose dog tags hang on the coat rack near the front door of his flat, the black silencer around them rough to the touch. Riley, who chose the worst building to live in, considering the state of their locks. 

You release the polaroid and it sways a little where it’s suspended in the air, before stilling. You feel an itch. An itch that follows the lines of your fingerprints, swirling, a corn maze-like pattern being used as a guide for it. Your I-2 stays hung around your neck by a thick strap, and your hands go to it almost immediately, fitting in the worn grooves that your fingers have created over the years. 

Suddenly, causing you to lose your grip on the camera, the bell rings. Shit. Despite thinking about Riley, you forgot that this is his usual time. You take the camera off immediately and haphazardly set it down on the counter, dusting your hands off on your apron and rushing out of the room. The light outside is almost blinding, an ugly reminder of the outside world, and you squint for a moment to get past the too-white artificial lights and soon your eyes adjust to it. You walk up a few steps and open the door, walking a little further to get to the cash register, before seeing Riley patiently waiting near it. His card’s already in his hand. 

“Sorry about that,” you apologize for the wait, grabbing a pair of latex gloves from under the counter and putting them on, “what’re you looking for today?”

Riley hums and watches you put on the gloves, “‘bout two half-kilos of ribeye, if you’ve got any.” 

“We have exactly that much left, I believe,” you look up from your hands and give Riley a smile, “guess you’re taking the last few.” 

“Guess so.” He’s a man of few words, but you still savor every one he speaks. It’s satisfying, the sharpness of his tone; it almost reminds you of cutting the fat off of a slab of meat. A thin blade against fatty tissue, cleanly hacking away at the white flesh, though leaving rough marks at some points. 

You walk to the back, painfully aware of the window that allows Riley to see your every move, and see a partially butchered prime rib. There’s just enough for a ribeye and a rack of ribs, so you grab a clean meat cleaver from off the wall and chop off a good half kilogram of ribeye, laying the cut on a paper-covered scale and seeing that it’s just about half a kilogram. You trade off the cleaver to your non-dominant hand and reach for a sheet of paper, your gloved hand transferring the ribeye over to the brown paper and setting it off to the side. 

You repeat the process again until you have two half kilo ribeyes, both wrapped in butcher paper, and you take off your gloves before putting on a new pair, not wanting to get meat juice all over the paper. You stack one on top of the other and carry the papered ribeyes out of the room, the door opening and closing behind you as you walk over to the register and set the two down. Riley watches you intently. You revel in the feeling of his eyes on you.

“Date night?” you ask, curious. You wonder if there’s someone new you’ll be able to observe. Maybe someone who can help you learn more about Riley.

He huffs out a laugh, something that makes you hold back a smile, and shakes his head, “No, not a date. Just a night.” “Just a night…” you hum, not prodding further even if you want to, reminding yourself that you can’t poke too much or else he might never come back, “whatever you say.”

“I’m sure he wishes it were a date night,” Riley mutters, to which you let a smile crack through. 

“Good luck with your not-date night, then,” you bid him farewell and Riley nods, leaving you with a “have a good night”, the bell above the door ringing as he exits the room. You let out a breath. Jesus. 

— 

Ghost doesn’t think you know how obvious you are. Given your youth, he supposes he shouldn’t be shocked at this level of ignorance, but still. 

He’ll catch you in the corner of his eye. He thinks you think you’re being discreet, but that little camera you keep around your neck always seems to be swaying, and every time he looks a certain way, he can hear the small click and shutter of the camera. He can put two and two together. He’s not stupid, despite what you must think of him. 

Ghost keeps the packaged meat in his hands, not bothering to conceal them as he makes his way back to his flat. It’s a pretty basic building, with picked-to-bits locks and door hinges in desperate need of some WD-40, something he didn’t really think about too much until you started coming around uninvited. He’s not sure if you’ve noticed the various cameras set up around his flat. If you have, he isn’t sure why you wouldn’t take them out―he’s sure that you can. That you have the ability to. Or, he might just be overestimating you. It’s hard to tell at this point.

Ghost wants to confront you, desperately so. He wants to walk up to you in your own shop, wants to hear you greet him and ask him what he’s looking for that particular day, and wants to see the look on your face as he asks you to bring some lithium grease the next time you come around to rid those doors of their squeakiness. He hopes that you’re frozen when he says it, like a deer in headlights, unable to think until he asks you if you really thought he wouldn’t figure it out. It sounds a little cruel, but he thinks, given everything he’s experienced, he’s entitled to a little cruelty, especially if it’s towards his own stalker. 

You can handle it. He’s sure of it. He hasn’t been stalking you for as long as you have to him, but he’s essentially trained for this type of thing, so it comes much easier to him than he’s sure it does to you. As far as he knows, you haven’t gone through the same training as him. You don’t know what to look for. Given the inexperience you show in your actions, Ghost wants to assume that you’re self-taught, and picked this up recently. He doesn’t know if he should be flattered or not by the possibility of you getting into stalking because of him. Since, for some strange reason, he chose to go to your butcher shop instead of the one he would usually go to before the stalking. 

You’re young. Younger than him, at least, by a lot. You’ve never told him your age or anything, but it’s not too hard to tell by looking at you and seeing the way you talk to other customers. You always seem to be a little more polite around him, less joking, aside from today. You’re more laidback with other customers. He wonders if your stalking habits prevent you from acting normal around him, so you compensate for that by trying to act too normal. Except, it doesn’t work, because he can see how you act around other customers. He’s seen your normal. He knows it’s not what you act like around him. Sure, it could be that you’re only normal around him and no other customers, but he’s seen you outside of work too. The only other possibility would be that you only act normal around him specifically, but that just wouldn’t make sense.

Ghost wonders if you get something out of this stalking. He doesn’t look into statistics too much, so he doesn’t really know if stalking is just more popular among the younger generation, or if you’re just special in that way. It could be a hobby, but he’d think that you’d be a little more careful if it was. A little more experienced, even. It might be that it’s an addiction; maybe you feel ashamed of your stalking, but you just can’t help it. However, if you did, Ghost doesn’t think you’d be so obvious about it. No, he thinks that you’d hide it more, that you’d be more nervous around him. While you’re anything but normal in his presence, you can still make conversation with him, and try your best not to bring up things that you know about him that you really shouldn’t. If you felt any kind of shame about it, he thinks you’d slip up more, because even though you’re sloppy, you still managed to go unnoticed under his radar for however long until he caught you for the first time.

The only reason that he knows it wasn’t your first time when he caught you was because of something that you could’ve easily avoided. You tend to mutter to yourself, whether on purpose or on autopilot, and when you’re taking photos of him, you like cursing out the camera when it somehow malfunctions or whispering directions under your breath. Left, get that thing he’s holding, he’s heard you mumble, oddly loud for someone who's trying so hard to be discreet, right… down… good. 

It was disturbing at first. Ghost doesn’t find many things scary these days, but this came a little close to being scary; the thought of someone always watching him, documenting his every move, studying him like a researcher to a labrat. He’s never liked that caged feeling. Being unaware of your observation, not consenting to any of it, unable to consent to it because he’s not supposed to know that you’re stalking him at all. 

The worst part, he thinks, is that he feels a weird sort of sympathy for you. Again, you’re young, you sell meat for way too cheap despite its quality, you probably barely understand the severity of your actions. He doesn’t want to underestimate you. God knows he’s done enough of that. But, for some strange reason, he feels so strongly that you don’t grasp exactly what you’re doing. It makes him feel a little bad for essentially fantasizing about confronting you, knowing how conflicted you must feel, being so obsessive over someone as mundane as him. Truly, he hasn’t told you anything to pique your interest, so it has to just be something about him that’s got you so eager to witness every little thing he does.

He doesn’t know what it is. He hopes that he’ll find out soon. Maybe that confrontation shouldn’t stay a fantasy. 

Two weeks pass by like a short gust of wind. Quick, but still leaving Ghost a little disgruntled. He’s on his usual walk towards your shop, a small tingle on the tips of his fingers, an itch that won’t leave his palms, lingering on his hands like pins stuck in the cushion. The feeling is inexplicable, only noticeable by the time he had spotted the sign hanging over the red awning outside of your shop. He feels like he needs to grab something. Maybe he’s just that excited to get his hands on the pork tenderloin he intends to buy. Maybe he’s thrilled by the idea of asking you why he hears a camera shutter open every time he goes out in a relatively populated area.

The door bells ring as he walks in. You’re leaning against the counter, fidgeting with your gloves, your head whipping up when you hear the bells. You try to conceal it, but Ghost can see the ghost―haha, get it, ghost? Like his callsign? Oh, whatever―of a smile appear on your face. It should make him feel sick, but for whatever reason, it only makes the itch grow. Ghost looks around the shop, seeing the empty place, and walks up to the counter.

“Busy day?” he asks, making you breathe out a laugh.

“Very,” you reply, your words short but always having that sense of incompletion, “what’re you looking for today?”

“Half a kilo of pork tenderloin,” Ghost answers, leaning against the counter as you nod and head to the back. He watches you through the glass, biting his tongue.

There’s so much he wants to ask. 

You come back quickly, just a few minutes later, and Ghost finds himself face to face with a packaged pork tenderloin. You’re quiet as you type up his receipt, but he doesn’t bother to pull out his card. The itch is bothering him. The itch starts to crawl up his wrist, curling around it like a handcuff, running along his veins and making the hair on his arms stand up. It reaches his shoulder and hits an old scar from a fight a long time ago, then reaches his neck, manages to wrap itself around it like a rope, and suddenly―

“Why’d you take that picture of me?” Ghost’s voice interrupts the calm silence, replacing it with a sort of tension. He sees the way you freeze up, your head slowly lifting up, your eyes locking onto his, all confusion and nerves. 

He doesn’t repeat himself. He just waits.

— 

You blink. What? 

“Sorry?” you laugh nervously, but Riley doesn’t budge. He only stares at you. You’re tempted to utilize your right to refuse service, but he isn’t technically servicing you, only talking to you. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Riley responds, not getting threatening, but still leaning forward a bit and narrowing his eyes at you, “‘bout two or three weeks ago, Heaton Park?”

You stay silent, because despite your excessive planning, you never accounted for a possibility where Riley actually caught you. You guess you were so caught up in observing him that you never thought about what you would do if he ended up confronting you about it. You just didn’t think you were obvious. Maybe you aren’t obvious. Maybe Riley has developed a habit of being more aware of his surroundings or something after being in the military for so long, so much so that he was aware enough to detect your presence despite you keeping your distance.

Whatever it is, it has you choked up. You never imagined that you’d be in this position. It always felt like it’d be him who was confused, maybe even paranoid―but, surprisingly, it’s you.

When you don’t respond for a few more seconds, Riley doesn’t let up. He doesn’t go easy on you. He leans back but the state of his eyes don’t change, they don’t get any less skeptical or stormy, the gray-blue irises staring at you like two camera lenses. You swear you can hear a faint click every time he blinks, like he’s taking pictures of your every move, just as you had done to him. Like he’s observing you just as much as you observed him. You wonder, briefly, if this is how he feels when he senses your burning stare on him.

“Are you scared?” Riley asks, like an English Billy Loomis, “Did you ever think I was scared?”

You can feel a little sweat cultivating on your forehead. You’re sure Riley can see it too. His eyes flicker all over your face, and it feels like you’ve switched roles, with him being the researcher and you the subject. 

You can’t respond. How are you supposed to? You’re not scared, you’re dreadfully curious, wanting so badly to grab the camcorder you haven’t used in a good few years and just record. You want a stenotype and a chair, with a body double to act as yourself, to watch yourself have this conversation and take notes. You need order. You need a judge, jury, and executioner, to be allowed to be the reporter, to copy every word that exits Riley’s mouth. 

This is so out of his element. You knew he was confrontational, but―

“Do you never turn it off?” What? “The stalking?”

Stalking? “I think you should leave,” you force yourself to say, even if it leaves a suffocating feeling in your chest, forcing Riley away like this. 

“I’m not mad,” Riley tries to reassure you, “I’m a little disappointed, though.” 

“Disappointed?” you can’t help but repeat, despite your shock.

“Just a little,” Riley hums, so uncharacteristic of him, so unlike what you’ve seen from him. It’s so fascinating, yet horrifying. 

You’re quiet again. He’s disappointed? You should be more scared of the fact that he knows what you’ve been doing, the hobby that you meant to keep under wraps until you managed to get to a place where you no longer needed to participate in it, but you somehow find yourself more saddened by the fact that your subject is disappointed in you. It makes no sense. You can’t put it into one of the little boxes you’ve folded up in your head.

��Does it make you mad?” What? “Knowing that I know what you’ve been doing?’

You can’t find the words to respond.

“Do you understand what you’re doing?” Riley asks with a level of understanding you could never foresee hearing from him, especially directed at you, “Did you know that you were stalking me?”

That word makes you actually freeze. You stop breathing for a moment, switching from automatic to manual, all because of that word. Stalking? It feels foreign even in your mind, feeling so taboo just to think, the word barely a part of your vocabulary. You can’t recall ever using it to describe what you’d been doing. 

You don’t know if Riley senses this, or if it’s just the look on your face, but whatever it is, something seems to tell him that no, you weren’t aware of that. You don’t know how you didn’t know. Yeah, no shit, of course you were stalking him, how didn’t you know until now?

You genuinely don’t know what to do. Riley’s looking at you like you’re some kind of lost street dog, your palms are heating up, there’s a loud buzzing in your ears, and you think your voice box has somehow been turned off. You want to say something so bad. You want to apologize, even if you don’t entirely understand what you’re apologizing for. You want to defend yourself, because you weren’t aware of what you were doing. You want to do something. Anything.

“I’m gonna leave,” Riley sets a few tenners down on the counter, “but I need you to know that I’m not mad, okay?”

Oh, right. You’re not mad, just disappointed. Which is somehow worse than you being mad. “... Okay.”

Riley looks at you, scanning your face, searching you, “Okay?”

You nod and Riley exhales, picking up his pork tenderloin. “Have a good day.” 

When he’s gone, you feel a wetness on your cheek, and bring your fingers up to your face with furrowed eyebrows. You’re crying.

— 

Ghost doesn’t leave. He stays and watches you close up the shop, watching to see if anyone else stops by. He’s been doing it every few weeks after finding out about your hobby, always justifying it by telling himself he’s just looking out for you. It’s dangerous around here. It’s why he doesn’t live around these parts. You clearly don’t know that. Shit, if you were so unaware of your own stalking, how could you possibly be aware of the dangers around you?

You leave the shop and Ghost watches. You don’t even spare a glance in his direction, and that very fact tells him everything he needs to know. You’re vulnerable out here. You need his protection. You need it. 

Ghost gets up from his kneeling position and dusts his hands off on his knees. He can protect you.

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XXIV

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. Drinking is mentioned, and there is a bit of cussing. I'll admit Satoru does not look good in this one, neither does reader honestly, but thanks for bearing with me.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII

----------------------

Ping.

Satoru heard the notification sound from your phone, which had been left unattended on the table in the teacher’s lounge, but he did not pay attention to it.

Ping.

You had gone to the restroom, and he was watching videos on his phone. In fact, he had found a funny video to show you when you came back.

Ping.

Whoever it was probably had a lot to say though.

Ping.

Satoru took his eyes off his phone and looked at yours.

It started ringing, then stopped.

Could that be something urgent? Satoru knew how to unlock your phone; you had showed him. You could access his phone too, although none of your ever used each other’s phone without asking first, but if it was urgent, he should maybe take a look.

He grabbed it.

4 new messages. 1 missed call.

Haruki: I did not want to say anything before, but I’m sorry if I weirded you out last night when I called you. Haruki: I was emotional and talked too much. Haruki: The whole thing with my father makes me drink more than I should and do things I should probably not do, and it’s… well, you know. Haruki: But I don’t regret it at all.

Satoru thought he did not need to read that. It looked like Ikeda had some family issues he vented to you about.

However, even if he did not want to, he could almost sympathize with the guy.

“Is that my phone?” you asked, reappearing before Gojo.

He stretched his arm out so you would take the phone he was still holding. “It was ringing.”

A moment later, your words confirmed what Gojo thought. “It’s Haruki… His father has been bugging him for money, but he does not really want to see him again.”

Gojo recalled you had told him something about how complicated his relationship with his father was.

I guess it makes sense he wants a friend to call, someone who will listen to him.

Not that he could make peace with you being that friend just yet, but he knew better than to say that aloud, so he hummed in response.

“Must be tough for him.”

***

Now that he looked back on it, that had happened two weeks ago, the morning he had returned to Japan only to find out that you would be clocking in late that day.

He had wondered what your friend could have said to "weird you out". What was the thing he did not regret? Why had you left the room to give him a call after that?

Satoru had tried, really tried to live with the fact that Ikeda was your friend, a friend that might have called you being wasted out of his mind to complain about the awful father he had. That was the explanation he had given to himself.

He never imagined you would have gone out to drink with the guy, maybe even spent the night with him, and then what? Eaten breakfast at his place just before clocking in at work to greet your obliviously hopeful best friend, if he could still consider himself as such, as if nothing had happened?

To think Satoru, overworked and sleep deprived as he had been after that trip, had wanted to get back to work immediately to see you...

He felt stupid.

“Are you okay?” Satoru heard you ask hesitantly.

He took his eyes off his reflection to briefly look at you. “What are you doing here?” he asked, moving to wash his hands for the third time.

You watched him hold his hands underneath the water stream, not really moving them.

So he still does that.

When he was younger, Satoru sometimes did that as a ritual to calm himself when he felt anxious. You could not remember the last time he had done it in front of you.

“You did not come back to the table, and Shoko said you looked pale when you left.”

And I’m afraid I know why.

“If you want me to call her to check in on you, I’m sure I can convince her to come into the men’s restrooms.”

Satoru knew those words were only meant to try and walk around the elephant in the room, or should he say the elephant that was sitting back at the table?

He grabbed a paper towel. “I’m fine. You should go back.”

You were standing from a distance but still saw his jaw tighten. “Aren’t you coming back?”

“What for?” he asked, throwing the used paper sheet into the bin.

“They already served the dessert, and…”

“What am I doing here, [name]?” Satoru’s eyes connected with yours.

What do you mean? You asked to come.

That is what you were going to tell him, but he did not let you.

“Is it true?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing, the ghost of an expression he almost never showed to you. “That night you went drinking with him, where did you sleep?”

Now that was a tricky question.

“At his place, but…”

Satoru’s face contorted into a broken smile and the forced laugh that escaped his mouth echoed through the empty stalls. “Of course.”

“Let me expla-”

“And? Was the breakfast worth it?” His venomous tone was not something you were used to.

You frowned. Was he really implying that? Did he really think that was the kind of person you were?

“I get that what he said sounded weird, but that’s… I can’t believe you’re asking that.”

“I can’t believe you’re not answering,” he replied dryly.

You took a step closer. “Satoru, what do you think happened between him and me?”

“I have no fucking idea.” The sternness of his words made you take that step back. “Because you did not even mention going out with him while I was gone, let alone that you spent the night at his place. Oh, but I’m sure that whatever happened he does not regret it at all, because that’s what he told you, isn’t it?”

What was he talking about now?

“What do you mean? Why would you say…?”

“Is that my phone?”

“It was ringing.”

The realization left you stunned. “You read our conversation?”

You were not expecting that. Knowing that Satoru was nosy at times was one thing. That he had actually violated your privacy and read a conversation from your phone without telling you was another one.

“Can you believe I almost felt bad for him? But why should I? He has you to comfort him in his oh-so-many hardships. What a lucky bastard...”

“Gojo, stop right there.”

He wanted to. Satoru really wanted to stop talking now before saying anything that would hurt you both, but he did not think he could. He had held it in for too long.

“No, don't Gojo-me. You did not tell me to stop before.” His eyes were burning blue.

The blue part of a flame is the hottest spot.

You could not remember who had told you that, but for the first time, it made sense, because it felt like Satoru was burning you under his gaze.

“No, scratch that... You told me to stop once, and I was foolish enough to think you needed time, that I was rushing you, but that was not it, was it? You had already made up your mind. You just did not have the guts to tell me.”

This was a side of Satoru that you were not sure of how to handle; your arguments were never like this; they could be ugly, yes, but it was never him yelling and reproaching while looking this agitated. He usually kept his emotions in check; you just lacked the experience seeing him like this.

What was that thing Suguru said once? That those who felt deeply will love you and hate you the same? That their love and their wrath was equally dangerous, or something like that?

Satoru’s agitated breath was all you could hear for a second, but then, as if regaining strength, he continued. “Tell me, did you ever think of him when you kissed me?”

Even before he finished the question, you had started shaking your head. "Of course not! Satoru, just let me explain. It’s not what you think, and I’ve never…”

“Now you are talking!” He advanced quickly towards you. “Yes, please, [name], please do explain what’s going on.” He was not exactly yelling, but he had raised his voice again, more than in any other argument you could recall, but it suddenly dropped. “What’s this? You play house with me Monday through Friday and fuck him on the weekends?”

“We are not playing house,” You were trying to avoid shouting, but it still came out sharper than you had intended.

“But you are fucking him.”

“I’m not!” That was it, you could not avoid shouting at him anymore. “Stop, just shut up. You know it’s not like that. He’s my friend, and you…”

“Then answer me, what are we playing at? Because I’m also your friend, right?! But looks like that’s all I’ll ever be, the friend that has to sit back and watch the person he loves fall in love with someone else. What a freaking great game, but guess what? I don’t want to play anymore.”

He had it all wrong and that irked you that he did not want to listen, but at the same time, it was breaking your heart to hear him. Was that how he had felt all this time?

You tried to touch his face to wipe away the tear that was about to fall down, but he pulled back. “Don’t… Don’t touch me. Just pick. It's him or me.”

What?

One look at your expression, and Satoru understood why he had put off asking you for a definitive response for so long. Maybe, deep down, he knew you could not pick him; he was flawed, he was selfish, he was always too late.

When you were younger, you had not been able to pick his friendship over Ikeda’s. This was just the same, was it not?

No, this hurts much worse.

“Satoru, I…” you started saying, but he shook his head and interrupted you…

“You seriously can’t, can you? You know… You were right, I’m selfish” he pointed to the door, “I’m nothing like Mr. Perfection out there, with the magazine face, corporate job, and just mundane problems..."

At some point, Satoru had given in and tried to get some intel on who the great Haruki, who had had you head over heels, was, but what he had found was just an average man that was perfect in everyone's eyes. In a way, that was worse than finding dirt on him.

"He may be a fucking saint, and I’m selfish all you want, but you…” the finger that had been pointing outside was now pointing at you “You are cruel beyond repair, and I’m an idiot for falling in love with you.”

He had lowered his voice, but the atmosphere could be cut with a knife, and his words certainly sliced it through.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” a young man, a waiter called behind you. “I’m afraid your… Umm… conversation is preventing some customers from coming in. May I ask that you continue this somewhere else?”

----------------------

Note: No notes today, just my love.

Thanks for reading!

Next: Part XXV

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski @rosellerinfrost @catowru @bi-narystars @wondermilka @fortunatelyfurrygiver @shrxui

[rekino2114]

Mutli request: Charlie (Undertale), Sophie (Walten Files), and Marin (Dress Up Darling) with an S/O that starts to go through a self doubt cycle, feeling that he's not good enough for his girlfriend.

Chara,sophie, and marin with an s/o who thinks he's not good enough for them

Chara dreemurr

Chara kinda feels the same, to be honest. She's practically a demon who slaughtered thousands of monsters in different timelines it's a miracle that she still has a soul, and you're a really nice guy. she still wonders why you're with her sometimes

She'll take a while to notice what's wrong with you, but when she does, she immediately asks you who made you sad, and where can she find them. After you explained how you felt she was flabbergasted, you were crazy if you thought you weren't good enough for her. If anything, you were too good and she told you exactly that.

She tried to be more affectionate to you after the conversation (even if she still blushes a lot) she'll also remind you of how much she loves you and how you changed who she was completely, you both helped each other with your self doubt issues.

"Hey, y/n listen to me, how the heck did you start thinking that? Did somebody tell you cause if they did, I swear I'll......no? Alright, just don't think stuff like that anymore. You practically restored my faith in humanity. If anything, I don't deserve you"

Sophie walten

Sophie also feels like she doesn't really deserve you, but it's more because of what she puts you through, she vents to you about her trauma a lot,not to mention all the times you have to wake up to comfort her about a nightmare she had, she thinks she's pushing too much on you and that you're the best person she ever met since you didn't leave her because of that.

She noticed how you felt pretty fast, probably because it's the same way she feels. She was the one to comfort you this time around, hugging you and telling you how much you truly mean to her and how you helped her cope with everything.

She smiles more around you after, trying to physically show you how much you had a positive impact on her life. She also tries to rant less around you as she thinks it might annoy you. She'll always comfort you whenever you're down though, just like you do with her.

"Babe please don't say stuff like that, you're a great guy, and genuinely the best thing that ever happened to me, I.....don't know where I'd be If it wasn't for you, I love you so much please never forget that"

Marin kitagawa

Marin showers you in affection and compliments every 5 minutes, always calling you the best boyfriend ever and the light of her life, she makes you feel so cherished, but you still thought you didn't deserve that. She was so beautiful and nice and you were just an average guy, you thought you didn't deserve her.

She noticed almost immediately what changed in you. It was because you reacted to her daily hugs and kisses with less warmth than usual, so she decided to ask you what's wrong and not leave you alone until you told her the truth, your well-being is the most important thing in the world to her.

She was quite literally speechless when you told her the truth. How did you ever think about something like that? In her eyes, you're literally the most perfect person in existence, and you think you're not good enough for her? She can't have that. She will be twice as affectionate and loving to you after that (which is saying a lot) you'll never go an hour without hearing how awesome you are and how you always make her feel on cloud nine while she hugs you soooo tightly.

"W-wait, are you serious? Baby, pleeaaaaase don't say that. You're like the best. Have I not told you that enough? Cause I'll yell it at you until I lose my voice if that's what it takes. Literally every day I ask myself how I ended up with an angel come to heart, I love you so so so much and you are waaaaaaaay more than enough"

[passportclown]

Starscream x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence and threats, but nothing actually detailed or described in depth.

You and Starscream, just spending time together in a Forest.

Takes place during Season 2 of TFP

ao3 link

My Kofi if you feel like tipping!

Brush it Back

It has been a while since you first ran into Starscream. He's rude and loud. An overall foul individual. You normally wouldn't bother with such a person. Except.. he's also a giant supposedly alien robot.

Obviously, you kept coming back, if only to look at him.

You're pretty sure he was going to kill you the first time, but in a pathetic attempt to protect your life, you complimented him.

He liked it... you think.

He doesn't like you, you assume. Sometimes it seems like he does. But.. then he'll call you some sort of expletive in an alien language. So you're not too sure. But he doesn't kill you, at least.

Currently, you're sat on a large tree root as you watch him pace. He vents his troubles to you. Whenever you meet up, you can barely get a word in.

He doesn't touch you. He thinks you're sticky, squishy, or… something like that?

At times he switches to different languages to better express himself. You have no idea what he's saying, but it doesn't really matter. You feel like a therapy animal or something. Maybe that's what you are to him?

"Are you even listening, human?!" He flares up, his voice growing particularly nasally as he yells. That's another thing about him, he can speak totally ASMR worthy at times. But other times.. he sounds like this.

"Well?" He taps his pede, shaking the ground and causing you to feel slightly intimidated.

"I'm listening, I promise. You just switched to another language.. again.. so I couldn't keep up." You try to sound placating, so he doesn't throw a fit.

It seems to work because he just huffs and looks off to the side.

There's a few minutes of no movement and awkward silence, but then.. he bends down. You're not sure why at first, but then you see his large servo reaching for you. You yelp and quickly back up. "What are you doing?" You exclaim, unsure if you've upset him or not.

"Oh relax, pitiful mammal. Just hold still." He doesn't grab you, he just reaches for your bangs and flips them back with one of his long and sharp claws. When your bangs flop back in your face, he scowls.

It would've been sweet, or friendly if he weren't giant and scary at times. Sometimes he's funny, but he's still.. him. And rude.

"Why must these strands defy me.." He mutters to himself. You pretend to not hear it. Because the way he refers to your hair 'defying him' is.. absolutely hilarious.

"I can brush it back, next time." You offer, but his scowl just deepens.

"Don't seek to cater to me like some organic youngling!" He flares up, but then he slackens slightly. "That's not the point, fleshbag." He grumbles, almost a growl.

It makes you wonder if he just wanted to play with your hair. But you don't ask. You just sit and watch as he stands back up and wiped imaginary dust off of himself.

"You better not leave, got that human?" He sneers.

You're not sure if he cares or not. Maybe he's just lonely and desperate. But you nod, and that seems to be good enough for him.

[aclowntiny]

First ‘I Love You’ With Seventeen

Since Ateez got one & all! 😄 Warning: long post! 😂

S.Coups

Almost every time you spent time with Seungcheol and the guys, you ended up taking care of them somehow, breaking up spats or cooking for them or even just satisfying certain members’ desire for attention. Not that you were anywhere near a de facto leader- in fact, it was just like you were parenting them. And while that made Choi ‘Family of Six’ Seungcheol fall over himself, head over heels to show you appreciation and affection every time, sometimes he needed you to himself.

This was one of those times.

The jacuzzi water was warm as it bubbled around you two, arms hanging out the edge and glasses in hand like anyone high society in movies would do. Seungcheol nuzzled affectionately into your cheek, grinning at the way you giggled his name when his nose brushed your skin.

“This is nice, isn’t it? Just you and me,” he murmured.

“You and me and the moon,” you hummed cheerily, “it’s wonderful, not that I don’t love the guys, but this must be what parents feel like when they go on vacation together.”

So you saw it too? Cute. “They love you, you know. And I can see why. But I loved you first,” Seungcheol remarked, the words slipping out as he kisses your cheek, feeling whole right there with you at his side.

“Well, that’s good,” you replied, smile so beautiful Seungcheol didn’t even need to look at the stars to see a shine, “because I love them, but I love you more.”

Setting down his glass, Seungcheol swept you into his arms, pulling you for a real kiss as you both repeated your confession, warm in both the water and your embrace.

Jeonghan

Life was kind to you. You had the most loving and understanding boyfriend anyone could ask for. Jeonghan was the best listener you’d ever met, and while you were careful not to abuse that, he let you know time and time again that he cared, that you could talk to him.

So hesitant as you were, you had gone to him one night after a bad day at work, saying you didn’t want to dwell too hard but needed a vent, and all he did was pull you to his lap without another question asked. That day had brought dealings with a particularly rude person, someone who’d taken a low blow at your appearance and unfortunately chosen something you were sensitive about. As you rested with your head in Jeonghan’s lap, his hand playing with your hair, you sighed that though you had a lot of blessings in life, you just wish that one thing at least would go away.

“You know that says more about them than it does about you, right?” Jeonghan began softly. “You would never tear someone down like that, would you?”

“Of course not,” you replied instantly, no thought even necessary.

“That’s because you’re a nice person. You don’t feel the need to cover your flaws with someone else’s or feel better than them. Even if you are in my mind,” he joked, squishing your cheek and bringing your first genuine smile and giggle of the day out.

“Don’t worry about what strangers think, ok? Those things you don’t like about yourself? I think they’re beautiful,” Jeonghan peers down at you with a soft smile, dark eyes sparkling, “I love them. I love you.”

As much as people think of your boyfriend as some sort of jokester, you know he’d never joke about a thing like that. That fond look like he sees the whole world? That really is for you. He truly loves you as you are. Tears welled in your eyes, only to fall back as you reached up, hand brushing along the curve of Jeonghan’s cheek.

“I can say all the same to you, Jeonghan. I love you, too.”

Joshua

Joshua wanted to fall in love first. Wasn’t a fan of being flirted with, having passes made at him, anything that felt disingenuous. What he wanted was a reality, a friendship that carried through into the greatest of bonds, something that he found for himself.

He found you. Well, sort of. When he met you, you treated him like anyone else. Cared to ask him deeper questions, like what the meaning of music was to him or if he could have any one piece of knowledge, what it would be. Let yourself loose and were your silly, smart, kind self very quickly, and he admired your comfort in that side of yourself. Or the resistence to social inhibitions at least, even if it was a challenge.

He hadn’t even expected to really fall for you, but the more you spoke, the less he could help it. You two just made sense together, his energy calming you and yours encouraging Joshua’s fun side- anything to keep you laughing with him, and laugh together you did!

Selfish as it sounded, he didn’t want anyone else to make you laugh like that. He wanted your heart to carry him as his did you, so when you agreed to date him, confessed you’d love that, wore the bracelet he’d made you with his initial on it, his heart just melted. Much as you deserved your freedom, Joshua wanted to be a home to you, and now it was time to tell you that.

~

You notice he’s that much more loving to you by the way he looks at you, the way he rushes around to open the car door for you and the way his arm slides up and down yours as you make your way into the restaurant he reserved a nice dinner for you two at.

You know him well enough to recognize that he’s biting his tongue about something, like his whole mind is leaning on the edge of his seat as he listens to you, but you know he takes time sometimes to speak his mind- it’s just Joshua’s nature, and you can accept that. You love him, after all, and that’s part of that.

So you keep talking, joking around along with your boyfriend as he reminisces on something embarrassing that happened to him in high school you still joke about, and you remind him of that funny baseball game trip you took with your grandparents.

“I hope I’m as lively as my great-grandpa is at that age, the way he climbed over the bench!"

"Minus the mustard," Joshua chuckled.

"Minus the mustard," you agreed, "I'd like to be a mustard-free grandparent."

Grandparent. One word and flashes of imagination burst through Joshua's mind, wondering what you two would look like as the quintessential old married couple, how many grandkids you'd have- and here he thought he hated thinking like that.

“Ha, that's a great image- I can almost see it. I see a future with you, you know,” Joshua tells you, taking your hand in his, eyes locked on yours. They aren’t searching, though- all you can see is pure joy, reassurance.

You can’t help the warmth that rises to your cheeks. “And of course I can see you in mine,” you reply.

“I love you,” you both say at the same time, and that’s how Joshua knows it’s real- you’ve found it together.

Jun

Welcome to the longest day ever. As he trudged his way home, that was all Junhui could think. Travel was fun, but also so grueling between work, jet lag, and little sleep. All he wanted to do was eat something and crash. Then he’d sleep for eight to twelve hours and wake up grateful for all the experiences that were still a bit hazy in his mind.

As he opened the door, sweet relief flooded him, and yet it was the tiniest bit strange entering the solitude. At least until-

“Welcome home!”

He almost jumped, just barely managed to quell his nerves enough to remain steady. Turning, he saw you standing at the table, food laid out and even a little cake that said ‘Welcome Back Junnie!!! > ω <’ frosted on top.

He was grateful enough you’d taken care of things while he was gone, but making him a late dinner? That adorable cake? He wasn’t even upset by the break of solitude, he realized, because time with you was still going to feel like ‘me time’. And who wouldn’t be overjoyed to see someone stayed up late to cook just for you? No, overjoyed wasn’t it, he reflected as he fell into your arms, he was in love.

“I’m home,” he said, and as if it would make it real he repeated it, “I’m home.”

“It feels good to be back, huh? I knew a party would be annoying, but figured you’d need something to eat, so welcome home,” you told him.

As you separated, Junhui held you a bit closer than arms’ length, hands on your shoulders as he shook his head, chuckling to himself. “No, you’re home. It’s you I missed the most this whole time, (y/n). I love you.”

And the way your face slowly, beautifully drifted into a grin, your hands sliding back up to pull him in, Junhui sighed in relief and giggled with delirious, sleepless joy, knowing you’d found your home, too.

Hoshi

You and Soonyoung sat cuddled together on the couch, his arm around you as you chatted…or you had been, but that didn’t always last with you two. One of you- it was a toss-up on who, honestly- would inevitably say something that had you both laughing like fools, normal conversation and breathing alike almost completely abandoned.

Such was one of those times as you sat connected but folded as your sides were about to split in the kind of mirth that makes you feel worked out afterward. You often described it as the best feeling, so it was fitting to share it with Soonyoung, your frequently-cited other half. That was part of why you-

“I love you!”

It was as if he read your mind, the way the words fell so abruptly, spontaneously, wonderfully from his lips as you thought a near variant. You could tell by the sudden ‘o’ shape his lips took, followed immediately by the wide, adorable grin you loved so much, that Soonyoung hadn’t even known he was going to say it, it just slipped out in between laughs.

“Uh, well, that is, I mean-”

“I love you too, Soonyoung.”

“Ok, good, because I really actually love you a lot and-”

“I love you a lot too,” you cut off his stammering, hands cupping his cheeks and yanking him into a kiss that was also no laughing matter.

No flowers, no frills, but as you sat there making out with your favorite partner in crime on the couch, you knew you wouldn’t want your confession any other way.

Wonwoo

“Wow, this is beautiful! We’re really going out here?”

Out here, in this case, being the lake you rapidly approached, all but running down the dock to the little boat your boyfriend had rented. Trees surrounded the secluded spot, draping its reflections in green that reached endlessly for the sky.

“M-hm,” Wonwoo replied contentedly, expression bright as he followed behind you at a more normal pace.

"How romantic!" You gushed, taking in the sprawling water as Wonwoo extended a hand, gently taking yours in it as he lowered you onto the cushioned bench like a true gentleman.

"I know," Wonwoo agreed as he untied the boat, earning a chuckle from you, "I wanted a day with just us and nature."

Nature. Just like any life in earth, your relationship had taken time, nourishment, and care to grow. And being at Wonwoo's side was natural for you; his presence was calming, but not stifling. Joy, excitement, laughter all bubbled up, but not with the same tension, you reflected as you cut further across the blue expanse.

"What are you thinking about?" Wonwoo asks, a hand still guiding your vessel, palming the controls effortlessly. Not that you were staring or anything.

You lean on the side of the boat, watching the water ever so slightly part. "How you bring out the best in me."

"You?" Wonwoo breathed as you eased to a stop. "You bring out the best in me. Pull me out of my shell. Sometimes it feels easier to stay in the background, just take it all in. Sometimes I would wonder if I would ever truly catch the eye of someone who sees me. And when I'm with you, I feel interesting. I feel light. Happy, like everything around me is clear. When we're together, I'm whole, simple as that. I wanted to have this moment to tell you I love you, (y/n)." As he said 'this moment', his hand waved over the tree-lined horizon, emphasizing the pinkening sunset tinting the clouds like watercolor over the forest.

No rush had ever overcome your heart like that. You wanted to cut the tension with something silly, exclaim in surprise, but neither of you deserved that. This truly was a moment to enjoy, one of life's blessings to live in your heart whenever you needed gratitude, you thought as you peered into Wonwoo's eyes.

See? Totally balanced energy. Reaching over, you rested your hand over his.

"I couldn't agree more. I guess this is a pretty good moment to tell you I love you, too," you reply with a smile that only widens his.

Woozi

It was really such a surprise. Jihoon hadn't expected you to push your way into his heart, not when he'd thought those doors were still shut for a long time to come. And even just the way that he was, busy and not exactly of social personality, he hadn't exactly been planning on falling in love.

But that's the thing with love- one didn't exactly plan on it. You kept things up even when he thought he was being awkward, showed genuine interest in his passions, supported him, built onto it with small ideas that had him inspired even though they were just offhand comments to you. You could read him so well, even when he thought he needed to act. He didn't. You told him so. And being with someone so introverted, you learned well how to sacrifice big activities and nights out if you even wanted them that often.

"As long as I'm with you," you'd say with a smile, and that small, small phrase had looped its way around Jihoon's brain. Somehow, it said everything he wanted to say.

As long as I'm with you.

He didn't want to do it in the studio- you'd spent enough time there for him as it was. No need to do everything in his workplace, not when this was an us thing. So he went over to yours, the space that belonged to you and less frequently housed your time together for myriad reasons, though it felt right. He ordered your favorite for dinner, let you choose what you two would watch, correctly guessing it was going to be your favorite movie. Comfort movie, you always called it. Comfort person, he always called you.

You got the delivery, he threw the blankets down. You played the DVD, he laughed at every joking comment and impression you did even if you did them every time. Doing separate things, but you two were in total sync.

But finally, you spoke outside of the screen. "I-I really like spending time together here, too. I'm glad you were able to make it."

Your shy smile had Jihoon's heart doing loop-de-loops- maybe you were worried he'd think you were imposing? You were not.

"Of course," he replied, hand resting over yours as his eyes studied your beautiful features, features that had inspired more than a few lyrics, even if some got tossed in the end, "you do a lot for me, it's only right I do it for you. It's not always easy, but you're such a trooper. I love you, you know."

DK

It shouldn’t be a big deal. You could feel it already, right? Seokmin tried his best every day for it to show, to create a world where you could bask in the feeling of it like the gift you were.

So why did it seem so hard to tell you he loves you?

Maybe because of his personality- you had to know it was in earnest, not just a joke, not him trying to be cute. His heart beating faster whenever he saw you, the strength you gave him to do anything because you believed in him, and he wished you guys could swap eyes to see how beautiful and precious you were to him.

Wait, so just…say all of that? Maybe too lengthy despite its verity. Maybe something he could practice? No, no script for this, just his heart held out to you. And maybe, just maybe, you’d see he means it if he’s serious, if you’re standing in your favorite place as he says it, somewhere he’d go every day if it made you smile.

And so he takes you there, practically just waving a hand at the potential time and expense if you bring it up. You're worth it, he tells you. All he wants is to have fun with you, you know. To share in something that makes you you.

Your face lights up as soon as you set foot in your favorite destination. “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough! Why are you doing this all of a sudden?”

The look in your eyes as you swivel to face him unleashes something, a soaring in his chest that he can no longer ignore- he wonders how he could have for so long. Like a wave crashing on a sea-bound rock, the words burst forth.

“Because I love you.”

Seokmin just, just gets in a glimpse of the way your eyes widen, shine even brighter if that’s possible, before you’re launching into his arms, giggling “I love you, too”.

Mingyu

He wanted to tackle you. He wanted to scoop you up and fly you off to some private island and tell you it’s yours, he’d give you the world if he could. But that’s just how dramatic love made Kim Mingyu. As it was, not really an option. And he knew you- that’s not what you’d want, and this was one hundred percent beyond a shadow of a doubt all about you.

But that was it, the gloves were…well, on, actually, as Mjngyu made his way into the kitchen for something that would be much more your speed. Something that, funny as the mental image would be, would not earn him a smack on the chest or a complaint about time and money. Just the thought made him smile. Pretty much any thought of you made Mingyu smile, even on days he wanted to cry, days where being his kind self took work.

And that was how he knew.

~

“Alright, alright, let’s see!” You laughed as your boyfriend took you by the shoulders, practically jogging you down the hall in excitement that took over you like the happiest of viruses. “What is it? You’re acting like you won the lottery!”

“I did,” he murmured into your ear as you rounded the corner, taking in all that he had set up for you.

The table perfectly set, a gorgeous vase of flowers and two candles a respectable distance from them as centers. Plates, cups, a wine bottle, dishes all at the ready for the meal set just where you could see it- a favorite from your home, clearly handmade.

“Mingyu, you-”. Your voice failed you momentarily beneath your ballooning heart, “how did you know to make this?”

“Got the recipe from your family,” he replied, and you swooned even more with mirth at the pride you heard in his voice, envisioning it even before you turned around to take in the real thing. Just as you thought he was standing quite straight, shoulders out and handsome grin flashing in victory.

“All this for-”

“For you, yes,” he took your hand, gazing into your eyes in the blinding way that always made your knees a bit weak, “I hope it shows. I couldn’t think of a better way to tell you I love you. …And believe me, I thought about it a lot.”

And there he was, sweet and innocent and wonderful as ever despite the bravado that made you laugh, shaking your head in utter wonder as you fell into his arms, feeling them close around you and trace your back in a way that said I’m never letting you go.

“Mingyu, I love you, too. So much.”

The8

Love is something Minghao considers often. Platonic, familial love that keeps him moving forward when things get difficult. The special love he shares with his friends that can keep him smiling in a hard time, laughing at nothing on a fishing trip or bouncing on a stage with his dear bandmates no matter how hot the weather is. The love fans have, whether that's a real love or not- much contemplation went into that area, what was the feeling of possession versus what was love.

Romantic love? Sure, he thought about that, too, and the answer to any doubts on that subject was modeled by none other than his parents, the way they raised him and brought each other's spirits up with full hearts you could just see in their eyes.

And he saw it in his own when he was with you. It was a truth as evident as the nose on his face or the color of his walls, and it's within those walls that the words slip forth. During a simple moment at home, just seeing you standing in his kitchen cracking eggs into a pan in the morning and all feels right in Minghao's world. It was you he wanted this life with, this home, this synergy. And the thought of bringing up a little mini-you? He was surprised how fast his heart beat at the thought.

Shuffling in behind you, he wrapped his arms around your middle as you cooked, feeling your cheek rise in a smile against his head and smiling right back.

"Good morning," you said, "It's a new day."

And those words of yours were like divine intervention, just another piece of proof you two were operating on the same frequency. "Good morning. It is. I'm so thankful for this day, when I can tell you how much I love you."

Seungkwan

"The beach wasn't the surprise?" You burst out incredulously.

Seungkwan had already brought you to gorgeous shores, the sound of waves crashing washing away worry, faithlessness, restlessness from your heart. There you'd both strolled for who knew how long, chatting idly, trading seashells, laughing lots as always, not a cloud in your physical or metaphorical skies.

And then he tells you he has a surprise for you.

At your question, he shakes his head, smiling shyly. "No, but I wanted to have this day with you. To make you happy and have a beautiful place for it all.

"You're so sweet!" As is their habit, as if they have a mind of their own, your arms find their way around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

Seungkwan melts into your touch, leaning forward just so until your foreheads touch. He stays like that a moment, hands on you as well, as if soaking in your warmth to carry with him. Then his arms are sliding down, gently unlocking from the embrace, though his hand gives yours a squeeze on the way out.

And he starts singing. That voice of his- you could never get enough, your eyes fluttering in threats to shut in bliss at the sound of it, and yet you want to stare, to drink in the sight. The words are familiar as home even though it's been a while since you've heard them, and your face immediately goes alight.

"I know this song," you remark quietly with a smile, watching the corners of Seungkwan's lips rise happily as he continued pouring forth sweet words.

It's a love song, probably about ten years old, and boy does it bring back memories of a simpler time, of wild imaginings of love as only conjured by a blissfully ignorant, sweet innocent mind. Back then, love could be whatever you wanted it to be. And right now, that idea doesn't seem so far off. Not when you have someone as encouraging, as faithful, as comforting and completely in tune with you as Seungkwan at your side. The man standing before you truly believes you can be anything and will do anything to help you achieve it.

As the last notes resound across your heart like carven sheet music, you're almost frozen to the spot, bare feet starting to sink into the sand as you grin dreamily.

"You remember that song?"

"Remember it?" You light up further, hands clasped. "I love that song! I used to insist it would be my wedding song when I was fifteen!"

"I wanted to learn it for you," Seungkwan continues, rubbing the back of his neck shyly with one hand while the other grabs for yours, "to make a moment worthy of telling you I love you."

Seungkwan could have told you he loved you in a McDonald's parking lot and your answer would have been the same, but his heart, his eye for detail, his sheer showmanship and yet humility blew you away. Your heart beat faster just for him as you raised your joined hands to your lips, hoping he felt the flutter too.

"Well, today was perfect. And even if it wasn't, I would still love you just as much. Which is a lot."

You considered saying more, but all that escaped you was a yelp as Seungkwan's hands fell to your back, dropping you suddenly in a dip as he kissed you at the sea's edge.

Vernon

He was usually so low-key.

Such thoughts are all you have as Vernon spoils you with a rooftop dinner, visions of the city surrounding your solitary peak on all sides. Neither of you dressed up often, but there you were, up to the nines at this gorgeous place you didn't even know you earned. Not that that was a good way to think. Knowing him as well as you did, you could hear Vernon brushing off thoughts like that. Sure you did, he'd say, you worked hard and he always wanted to care for you if he could. He was such a sweetheart. You wanted to carry his burdens, too, felt lighter and calmer around him. You loved him, but would that be too intense?

Either way, you didn't let such musings color your date stiff. Vernon talked about a movie he had just watched with Jeonghan and Seungkwan, giving his critiques but ultimately praising the romantic plot, how the love was so pure.

"The main male lead? He'd do anything for his love interest. He's willing to give up so much for her, and when she's ready to do the same? It's corny, but there's something so human about it. You know?"

"I do," you nod, leaning your hand on your chin, forgetting anything about elbows on the table as you gaze fondly at the object of your affection. You loved how he talked when he gave his little movie reviews, the passion in his eyes, the flowers in his words.

"It made me realize I'd do the same for you," Vernon continued, dark eyes softening into yours, melting your entire chest cavity to joyous mush.

Unable to help it any longer, you lean forward, connecting your lips with his, which move just as eagerly. The kiss is fast, but sweet, gentle brushes speaking just as much as Vernon’s sentiments.

“I would do it for you, too,” you breathe as the two of you separate, grinning like adorable fools beneath twinkling white lights.

“I came up here tonight because I wanted to tell you something,” Vernon adds, eyes never leaving yours, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Dino

Googling romantic date ideas had hit a jackpot, Chan thought as he whipped his arms, spreading the softest blanket he could find down.

“Tell me when I can look!” You called from some distance away as he laid the basket gently, almost tenderly down, feeling tense and turning twice just to make sure it didn’t drop or tip. Everything had to be perfect.

“In a minute,” he called back, grinning widely with joy, anticipation, even a hint of pride, “I’m almost finished, ok?”

“Ok!”

Chan’s heart swelled. You sounded so excited, too, joyful in voice and mannerism as you waited on the grass, back turned to him as he propped up the finishing touches.

“Alright, come here!” All but jogging over to you, Chan slung a hand over your shoulder. “Turn around, gorgeous.”

“Chan!” You giggled his name, reaching up to his his shoulder. He didn’t always talk like that, but praise and endearment were all his brain could come up with. You made him giddy, and for once there was no one around to tease him if he looked like a fool. And love was certainly making a happy fool of him.

When you turned around with him, your jaw dropped, widening to a slack smile at the sight Chan laid out for you. Upon the soft blanket he'd placed not just a picnic basket, but a chilled bottle of champagne, twin glasses, a pair of cute little bright solar lanterns, and a freshly wrapped bouquet of flowers.

"You did all this for me?"

"And no one else," he replied, arm still around you, guiding you as you both lowered into seated positions on the blanket.

"I feel so spoiled," you gushed as he handed you the flowers, smiling at the way you cradled them with gusto.

"You should," Chan grinned, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "I love you."

Flowers, glittering lanterns, and even food and wine forgotten for the moment, you knocked him on the blanket for a passionate kiss that spoke it all back.

[igglemouse]

It's Friday and for some reason it feels a little peculiar, a little off. The air is a buzz with some kind of weird energy and I don't know why but I have feeling today will be a very memorable day. Just a feeling!

I told you today would be an odd day as Candela, yes, that Candela, texts me? My heart skips a beat as I read the message, confused at what I'm seeing as uncertainty kicks in. Could it be her? I thought I'd never see her again and while she's always been a close friend I wonder...do I want it to be her? Do I want that piece of my past dipping back into my life? Would I want her back in my life? Definitely, but I worry about how much of the past she might drag into my current mostly happy life. I tried to call her but I got nothing back. Maybe that is for the best.

I was ready to dwell on it maybe investigate it further but Pascal comes sweeping into the room, angry about something, likely his kick ball thing. It's always about futbol with him isn't it? I'm proven correct the moment he opens his mouth.

"It's the manager," he starts and his whole face is tinted with his anger. "I keep telling him he plays me too deep, I need to be up more, attacking more! We would have won if-"

"Pascal, my dear, I have no idea what you are talking about," I really have no clue.

"I'm trying to win games here and I'm not sure what he's trying to do? Prove a point? He claims we win the ball more when I play-"

"Pascal!" I reach out for him, my hands finding his shoulders and arms, squeezing, getting a handle of him because he is really worked up about this. "You are speaking another language right now!" I joke, hoping to add levity to our conversation.

"Right," he calms down at once, settling down just enough so that he could think clearly. "You are right. I just wanted to vent, can't vent to the team because that could cause issues you know-"

"Oh," now I feel slightly bad. I have been meaning to learn more about this sports ball game he plays but I've been so busy and tired and pregnant. "Well, yes, you can vent to me! I just want you to know you might have to do more explaining is all!" He really seems to like that and I love that I calmed him down!

Pascal goes off to work and that left me here cleaning which is fine since I feel like I'm really just passing time. I don't have a food stand anymore so for now I have shifted into the more domestic kind of role. I'm sure once I do officially become a mama I'll have less and less time so maybe I should just enjoy the time I have right now!

Despite my feeling that something special might happen today nothing does. It plods on as a normal day but at least Sara decides to stop by and has a new hairstyle as well? I think she looks amazing with it! I wonder if this is because of her new mysterious boyfriend in any way?

"I love it! It frames your face perfectly!" Doesn't it? I can't help but gush about her new style and the smile on her face tells me she's happy with it too.

"Yeah, I was skeptical right after but waking up in the morning and seeing my reflection? Yeah, yeah, I look good, don't I?"

I beam my approval, she does, she's always have. She would struggle with her confidence but you know ladies sometimes a new hairstyle is all you need. "Is the new mystery guy the motivation or?"

That question makes her look a little doubtful and maybe even slightly offended? "No, no, I think he liked my old style to be honest? I just felt like...it was time to change something up?" She seemed uncertain about it, maybe the change was just a whim she had and went with it. Sometimes you have to go with the flow.

"A change is all you really need sometimes!" I chime in to reassure her and she gives me a small smile. Just then, it felt like the right time to dive into her love life or more particular this mystery guy. I was just ready to open my mouth when she beats me to it.

"What about you and Pascal?" She asks, curious as always. "He's been having a rough time out on the pitch lately."

I'm ready to ask what's wrong but she's eager to explain, taking a long breath. "I think they just haven't found the right spot for him, the right space. Chemistry issues. He started the season blazing hot but has slowed down some. I think the defenses are starting to key in on him, getting rough with him, frustrating him-"

"Oh," and I was listening intently but again, she's speaking a new language to me, one I haven't even tried learning. "I wish I knew what you were talking about."

She chuckles and waves it off. "Ah, it's just a kids game, but I guess it is taken a little seriously?" She then looked at my belly which is now hard to ignore. "You are huuuuuge!"

"Yeah, I'm just ready for her to come out at this point," I give my belly a few pats and she responds with a kick, maybe she's ready too.

"I'm definitely not looking forward to that whole process myself!"

"Oh?" My eyebrow raises because I think this is the first time she's talked about becoming a mom. "Are you and ummm, your mystery guy, you two are serious then?"

"I...maybe? It feels right, you know? It just feels...right. He's a good man, dedicated, attentive, driven. It feels right."

I nod, even though I'm not sure I fully understand. This pregnancy was unplanned for me. I'm not saying I regret it, far from it, but life is certainly coming at me fast. So I find that my only reply can be "Sometimes you have to listen to your gut," but I also realize this is my chance. "This guy, who is he? Can I at least get a name?"

She chuckles softly. "Oh, yeah sure, I guess that isn't big deal! It's Simo-"

"Sara?!?!" I cut her off, I wanted to know, I did but... "I-it's go time! C-can you drive?!"

I am thankful Sara was there since I doubted Pascal could make it home in time. She was steady and serious and once at the hospital things really started to just...happen. Needles, nurses, doctors, all in a flurry. All moving in a practiced ritual and moving a sone as if they were a team that had done this hundreds of times before. Maybe they have. I knew I was in good hands but still that wouldn't stop the fear. What if something goes wrong? What if she's not...whole? What if she comes out wrong? What if...

"Don't worry Miss Varela, your vitals are good, everything is fine, she's going to be beautiful," the doctor tells me. I take a deep breath and calm down.

After the 'pre-game' it was time for the first kick. I'll be honest and say it was not fun. All I remember from it was pain and the mantra of push and breathe, push and breath, push and breath, push and breath, push and breath, push and breath, push and breath...

For a moment I wondered when it would end. Hours had passed, how many I could not be sure, but eventually magic begun and after crying and wailing and pain and blood and tears I was holding her. She wriggled and screamed her lungs out, my little Florencia.

Frida Varela - Next Episode 8.5

[justuraverageweirdo]

God au critters 3/4

Fun facts under the cut!

CraftyCorn

Crafty is the goddess of the arts. Theater, dance, crafts, painting, weaving, you name it.

Crafty’s fighting style is like a ballerina, let’s just say. She moves so gracefully, as if she’s dancing, before she suddenly makes a strike. I just love her so much she’s such a girl boss ahhh-

Huge introvert. Barely socializes unless she has to (or Bobby or DogDay or Picky make her)

She is EXTREMELY flexible. You’ll walk into her quarters and find her doing some ungodly yoga pose in the corner of her room. CatNap was the same way, and before everything happened, sometimes they’d be yoga buddies lmao

Speaking of CatNap, her and him were extremely close. Both had similar personalities and sheltered upbringings. They spent a lot of time together before everything. To Crafty, he was a shoulder to cry on.

She’s ace here. She wants to feel romantic attraction, but always feels like she’s physically having to force herself to have those feelings. So she just decided to not get involved in all that.

She’s very observant of her surroundings and can often easily tell when something is wrong. The others occasionally will come to her for advice.

She does have a small ability to be able to grow flowers. However, her flowers never look as though they were naturally created, always having some supernatural element to them. She doesn’t use that ability often though, as it’s hard for her to control.

Bobby Bearhug

Ah, the goddess of love. All different types of love, in fact. Familial, platonic, romantic, she knows it all.

She has a bow and quiver that had been passed down for centuries by different love gods in her line. There are different types of arrows. Arrows that can make you fall in different types of love, and arrows that can make you feel hatred. And then she just has normal arrows lmao.

You must be wondering if she returns Hoppy’s feelings for her? If so, yup, she does. However, despite being the literal goddess of romance, she has no clue that Hoppy returns her feelings. In all honesty, she thinks that Hoppy is too good for her, and way out of her league. Even though Hoppy literally blushes at every single word she says, this girl does not have a clue. And she then precedes to laugh about how Bubba is completely clueless about Kickin’s feelings towards him. It causes everybody in the room to facepalm.

Bobby has the power to charm anybody into doing her bidding. Flutter her eyelashes just a little bit and the mortals will be all over her. It even works on her fellow gods, although not even nearly as strong. She so takes advantage of this.

Bobby is the therapist friend. She’s extremely close with DogDay, as she’s the only one that he feels safe enough around to vent his frustrations. Well, and CatNap of course. All of the gods tend to come to Bobby for advice and love when they need it. Sometimes though, Bobby gets frustrated that she doesn’t get that kind of out in return. She thinks that she’s selfish for that though, so she tends to bury her feelings.

DogDay and CatNap are next!

God au critters 1/4 link

God au critters 2/4 link

[luffyvace]

Hello first of all- Omg my new fav author I LOVE UR WRITING SM LIKE ???? APBDISBRQKOZ

I found your blog form the author!Reader the anon who ask haz a creative mind I loved the 2 post sm I already got addicted to it I hope u Dont mind me requesting sm form it

Imagine Kusuo getting a notification (he seems like the one has his phone on dnd but has his notification open for his s/o in all media) of her post sm in one of there public social platform saying "I'm turning into my emo phase if this writer block doesn't move on form me " and when checking her private acc (the it's only access for him and her older friend) she is all memes about her writer block and her saying "if I stop writing I give all my books and series to you my friend" just her and overreacting to her block writer

Hiii!! THANK YOU CUTIE!! It always makes me so happy to hear I can share my hobbies with others <3 ahhh I see! Of course I don’t mind dear :)

ohh so if I’m getting this right it’s Saiki finding readers second blog (in which she mostly posts unserious stuff about her writers block) I believe I get what ya mean :}

*･..°•*:.｡:3･.｡.:*･..*°.･

Lol if feel like almost every writer has they’re side blogs or blog where they not a writer they just read other’s stuff

and to me this blog seems like a kinda funny vent blog where reader can just complain about her writers block whenever she has it

LOL imagine going inactive on that acc for weeks and saiki’s wondering if you forgot about it or forgot the password but you just simply have had a lot of motivation lately

then all the sudden you come back and your rebloging all types of relatable author memes and making posts about how ‘your going emo because you have writers block’

honestly it’s kinda ironic to him

he likes your posts on both accounts to support even when your do have writers block

cuz who’s likes a guy who ups and leaves when you don’t have motivation?

the first time you threatened to give your books away he knew you were joking but at the same time he was like ‘wait don’t give all your books away they can’t write it as well as you can 😀’

’kusuo I’m joking’

🧍

‘me too I knew that’

(“Thank goodness..her books were the only thing keeping me sane from those nuisances..”)

- In Saiki’s head

he doesn’t get all the writer memes bc he’s not an author, obviously he’s not stupid so he does find some funny

i feel he doesn’t post on social media but if a post of yours does particularly good he’ll repost it

i think I touched up on him being supportive before but yeah I’m gonna say it it again bc it truly is an honorable mention

‘(Name/pen name) has posted!’

- notification

👆💥📲

- Saiki

the emoji combo was terrible but basically that’s him about to break his screen from how hard he clicked

he’s always the first one on your posts and interacts every way possible

except comments..

which sucks cuz it boosts it a lot but he just doesn’t interact online 😭

if it’s a social media where you can see who liked, aiura and torisuka always tease Saiki for being the first like every time

“Dang your a real simp huh? Your the first like on her every post!”

- Aiura

”MAN! You don’t miss a beat do ya Saiki? I can never beat you to it 😭”

- Toritsuka

“wow..you beat me once again. The second the notification pops up you’ve already liked, reblogged and shared before I can even click on it. That’s impressive I must say, but it’s also quite annoying because I would like to be the first one to support (name) one day. In fact you do everything first! You get the books before they publish! You like all her posts first! Satire or not too!- yadda yadda yadda..”

- Akechi

“you don’t even respond to me that fast! Sometimes you leave me on read or delivered for 2 days before you answer me”

- Kaido

Saiki also sees that your friend likes your second acc too

which he would figure since you two are close

ehehe..a bit short dearest but I hope it brings you joy regardless~ 😅💞

I have much to get out..need to be more active..

[vaguely-concerned]

Silly Garashir ficlet, Teen and Up-ish, mostly banter! CW: copious amounts of blood but like. Purely in a comedy capacity (don’t worry none of it is Garak’s)

“Good god,” Julian breathed, unable to do anything but stare for a moment. 

“Oh, don’t worry, none of this is mine,” Garak said, dripping puddles of crimson onto the floor, calm blue eyes the only thing peeking out from the solid layer of blood covering his face and upper torso. “The gravest injury has been to my wardrobe, I assure you. As you might have gathered, I encountered our suspected evildoer as they sought to make their escape.”

“From the looks of things, I’d hazard it’s more accurate to say that they encountered you,” Julian said. He shook himself out of his momentary petrification and raised the medical tricorder to make sure Garak’s reports of being unharmed hadn’t been greatly exaggerated, as would sometimes be the case with him. 

“However you would prefer to frame it,” Garak said, dipping his chin modestly and blinking globs of blood from his eyelashes. “I’m sorry to say I couldn’t ascertain many details about them, neither in terms of species or other identifying details. They were masked and coming at me with a knife at the time, which in the moment tends to blot out other considerations in one’s mind.”

Despite himself, Julian grinned at the performative airiness of Garak’s tone. He did seem to be basically fine. “I think that’s understandable under the circumstances, Garak. Odo’s probably going to track them down pretty quick, if they’re leaving a trail of blood across the station. Do you, er… want a handkerchief or something?” 

“It’s very kind of you to offer, but I don’t think that’s going to do the job in this case.”  

“No,” Julian had to admit, “no, you’re — probably right. I’ll let you go for a thorough sonic and peace and quiet once I’m done with this. I’m sure Odo will want a word with you later, though.”

Garak parted his lips to say something, and grimaced. “Ugh. Well, if it’s any help in figuring out the identity of our culprit, that’s definitely the taste of Napean blood. As you mentioned there will of course also likely be other clues, like them bleeding profusely as they sprint across the Promenade, but I always strive to be helpful wherever I can.” 

“Garak!” Julian yelped, shooting him an alarmed look and continuing his inspection of the tricorder readings with renewed worry. 

“Hm? Yes? You can run whatever tests you want on it to be sure, of course, but I am quite certain in my conclusion. There is a… distinctive tang to —”

“That’s so medically unsafe, you can’t go around ingesting —” 

“Well, I hardly meant to ingest anything, Doctor, but it did end up all over my person in a way that makes it hard to entirely avoid,” Garak snapped, though he tolerated Julian going in for a second, even more thorough examination without complaint. “Maybe if this person hadn’t so rudely insisted on venting the contents of their arteries straight into my face during our tussle — ”

“Yes, yes, I understand, sorry, I wasn’t suggesting you did it on purpose or anything, but it does mean I really do need to monitor you for any allergic reactions or bloodborne… wait, wait, hang on, how do you even know what Napean blood — ”

Smiling in a way that aimed for beatific and missed it by way of too many bared teeth, in a manner that would probably be quite unsettling if Julian wasn’t so used to (so fond of, whispered a treacherous little voice in the back of his head) Garak’s face, Garak dabbed daintily at the worst of the blood dripping off his nose with his sleeve and said: “Do you really want to know, or is this your outsized curiosity running ahead of your better judgment again?”

“I’m going to be wondering about it all night, but no, I don’t think I want to know, actually. If I come back in a week and still can’t put it out of my mind, feel free to tell me, though. Or use that time to come up with a good story, I don’t mind.”

“Never any but the best for you, my friend,” Garak said fondly. 

[venomwrites]

Something about the dictator cape because her striding around in it like that is so fucking hot?

Vi’s world comes back in blues. 

Powder’s cyan splatters across buildings. It stains people’s hair and hands and billows into the sky through vents. It’s bright and loud and so hard to look at sometime. When Vi sees it all she hears is a scream. Like if Powder can just scream loud enough it will bring back their dad, Isha and Milo and all the others. Somewhere in that scream is Silco’s black-gold eye winks back. Nowhere in it is Caitlyn’s mom. 

Ekko’s turquoise cuts in the gaps. The tree is wilting and he’s nowhere to be found, but the Firelights flash out of her eyes sometimes. Still fighting, still holding onto what he was taught. It’s the closest echo of home Vi can find. When Powder vanishes again that’s where she shows up. They let her in with only a few questions asked. Vi pretends they don’t sting. Then she falls fast first into the softest cot she’s ever felt and sleeps for two days straight. 

Caitlyn wraps herself in midnight blue and blankets Vi’s world with it. Every time she goes outside she sees it hovering. Above the splatters and the dyed hair and all the chaos. For a moment Vi thought it was the blue of purpose, of belonging. But now things are right again. And it’s just the same blue that’s made her ache since she was a kid. Nothing good comes from that midnight shade. It’s just a bigger set of bars on a bigger cell that Vi calls home. 

Before when Caitlyn was pissed, Vi could content herself with ghosts. 

Now she won’t leave her the fuck alone. 

Every time she surfaces there’s someone there. An Enforcer who looks too long. A gutter rat whose dressed too well. She knows she’s been watched. They are running out of ways in and out. None of them come near the entrances and exits, but the speed with which they turn away is making people uncomfortable. 

“They cannot know about this place,” Chireen says.

“She’s already been here,” Vi points out. He gives her a hard look, “alright, alright. I’ll go talk to them.” 

She finds the nearest pretend gutter rat who immediately does the worst impression of a drunkard Vi has ever seen. Of course she’s something of an expert on the subject, but he’s particularly awful. Without any pretense she hauls him up and holds him against the wall. He is immediately in a defensive position.

“I need to see her,” she says. He nods and pulls out a pair of cuffs, “that’s a fucking joke right?”

“Protocol, I could—“

“Forget it,” she doesn’t have time for this Enforcer bullshit. She shoves her wrists out, “take me in.” 

There’s no color in Stillwater. 

Vi should have figured this would be how things play out. Naturally if there was a way to make Vi’s life suck more, Caitlyn was going to find it and make a protocol about it. Vi doesn’t even know why she’s surprised. At least this time she winds up in one of the interrogation cells that has a little sunlight and some stale but fresher than below air. There’s even a proper toilet and a chair and a cot. She expects to be there for a few hours since Caitlyn is so incredibly busy these days. But Vi’s barely made herself comfortable on the cot when commotion starts. 

She’s hopeful for a moment that it’s a riot. 

But it’s just Caitlyn. 

“You wanted to see me?” Caitlyn says and if Vi was wondering if she was still mad, she’s not anymore. 

When she first met Caitlyn in her blue uniform, Vi tagged her for a low level Enforcer. Sure the gun she was carrying spoke of wealth, but it wasn’t Enforcer wealth. That was family money. And even then given her willingness to break the law and run around the Undercity, Vi figured it couldn’t be that much. Not until she went to her house anyway. 

They’ve come a far cry from that. 

Caitlyn wears her wealth and influence now like she wears the cloak. She’s tall in a way that has nothing to do with her actual height. Her mouth is in a tight disapproving line and her blue eyes glare down at Vi. But it’s the cape that really sells it. It folds around her form like a barrier cutting her off from the rest of the world. She’s sure as shit the only Enforcer Vi sees wearing a cape. Even her hair is down which only serves to further make her look different. 

“You look like a statue I’d spit on,” Vi remarks. 

“What do you want?” Caitlyn repeats, her voice tighter this time. 

Yeah she’s really pissed. 

“Stop following me.” 

“I’m sorry I can’t do that,” Caitlyn says, “you’re a prime target.”

“I can take care of myself,” Vi retorts. Caitlyn just stares her down, “I’m going to lose my home.”

“Then you can come back to Piltover.”

“I’d rather stay here,” Vi shoots back. 

“As you wish,” Caitlyn says and turns on her heel. 

She’s dead serious, Vi realizes. Of course she is, Caitlyn always gets what she wants. And she gets pissed off when she doesn’t. Vi is learning that really quickly. 

“Wait!” She grinds out. Caitlyn stops, “how long are you going to punish me?” Vi demands, “I told you I was trying to save my dad.”

“With your sister!” Caitlyn spits, turning so fast the cape billows, “you forgot to mention that part.”

“Sorry I didn’t have time to go over every little detail with your goons about to invade!” 

“That is not a little detail!” Caitlyn counters. Vi knows she’s right. Caitlyn balls her fist, takes a breath and looks at her, “now you’re a target. The Noxians know how to navigate the Undercity. You cannot be left unguarded.” 

“So you just want me guarded but you don’t want to see me?” Vi demands.

“Exactly.” 

“Who the fuck put you in charge?” Vi demands. Caitlyn stiffens, “oh wait--“

“I suggest you do not finish that sentence,” Caitlyn says. 

“I suggest you stop putting guards around me. I’d rather take my chances with Ambessa. At least she looked me in the eye when she tried to gut me.” 

Caitlyn is suddenly too close and there’s a blue that Vi forgot.

She can never pin down the blue of Caitlyn’s eyes. It shifts from midnight to teal to cyan. Sometimes Vi thinks they are blue-grey, shades darker than her own. But they are always impossible to look away from. Sometimes its annoying. Right now it’s downright infuriating. But Vi’s already damned so she’s definitely not backing down from this one. Caitlyn stares at her long and hard, her eyes bearing down. Then she presses her lips tightly again and straightens up. 

“Guards or Piltover, your choice.”

“Neither!”

“Guards it is,” she says. 

“You and that stupid cape can’t ignore me forever!” Vi shouts after her.

But Caitlyn’s the General wrapped in the night sky, and as much as it pains her to admit it, Vi knows she probably can. 

&&&&

The guards start turning up drunk. 

They always stagger back, bottle in hand and eyes clouded with merriment. They sleep it off and wake with apologies and explanations. Neither interest Caitlyn. She knows this is Vi sending a message, even if they say sometimes it was a red head and sometimes her hair was black. Sometimes it’s blue. Those times infuriate Caitlyn the most. She’s knows Vi has been locked up for longer than she’s been free. She knows this is excessively reckless but also understandable. 

She also doesn’t care. 

At best Vi is going to get herself killed. Caitlyn doesn’t want to think about what the worst case scenario looks like. It’s so easy to picture Vi in that green tank. Caitlyn grinds her teeth. She will not let that happen. She’s a Kiramman for Gods sakes. Vi seems to be the only one who keeps her from getting her way. She’s not going to let Ambessa also have that distinction. 

“General? They’re back.”

“They?”

This time Vi and her guard come in arm in arm. Because this time Caitlyn sent Loris. Vi’s taken care to send her guards back very drunk but also safe. But she never goes inside. Loris though keeps his arm around her shoulders like they are old friends. Caitlyn straightens up as they come fully into the garrison. Vi glances around but Loris keeps a fist of her jacket as he steers them in. 

“Well look who it is, General sneers a lot and her stupid cape,” Vi slurs.

“Bring her—“

Loris heaves Vi forward and Caitlyn has no choice but to catch her. It’s almost automatic to sling one of Vi’s arms over her shoulder. Vi grips her ‘stupid’ cape and looks up at her, blowing a piece of red hair up in a way that would be almost difficult to ignore. If her breath didn’t smell like something that makes Caitlyn’s eyes water. She’s very, very drunk. 

“I gotta go back.”

“That is not an option tonight,” Caitlyn says. 

“You kidnapping me? Again?” Vi frowns, “lawbreaker.” 

Caitlyn ignores her and steers them up the steps and through the private entrance she rarely uses. Caitlyn’s a fool in many ways, but she’s not enough of a fool to trust all the Enforcers. There are definitely moles. Which is one of the reasons she implemented the protocols. If Vi comes up here she’s supposed to be in cuffs. The guards that watch her are ones Caitlyn actually trusts. And despite all of that Vi manages to saunter in without a second thought. 

“This is nice, this yours?” Vi says looking around the office. Some schematic draws her eye and she sets off, “what’s—“

“Would you sit down?” Caitlyn snaps, batting her hand away before she can pull the string pinned there. 

“Who are you tracking?” She asks and glances up at Jinx’s headshot. She snorts, “still?”

“Yes—“ there’s a sound of ripping, “Vi!” 

Vi fixes her with that hard grey stare and rips again. There are moments when longing for her overtakes Caitlyn’s senses. And then there are these moments when she never wants to lay eyes on her again. She has half a mind to throw Vi out and make her stagger back to the Undercity. But from the way Vi is looking at her, that’s what she wants. And Caitlyn would rather hang herself with her cape than give her that as she shreds months of work. 

“I’ll see myself out.”

“You will not!” Caitlyn storms over, “sit down.”

“Or what? You’ll make me?”

“Easily.” 

Caitlyn’s never been much of a brawler but Ambessa’s changed that. Vi gives her a hard, silent look. Then she drops the pages into the fire and walks over to the couch. Caitlyn watches the pages burn. The search for Jinx has been half hearted at best these past few months. There are other things to be concerned with. Ambessa, Jayce, the golden light Mel seems to conjure whenever she’s angry. Even though every flash of blue hair makes her want to redirect people, at the moment Jinx isn’t the priority for anyone else. 

“Do you know where she is?”

“Wouldn’t tell you if I did,” Vi says, her tone cutting deeper than Caitlyn wishes it did.

“After everything, you’re just going to walk away?” Caitlyn turns, “how?” 

It still hurts that Vi can just walk away. 

Caitlyn’s been here before. Torn between never letting Vi out of her sight and never setting eyes on her again. She’s not proud of how desperately she listened to the wind those first few nights. Just waiting for Vi to climb up her balcony and tell her off. Tell her she misunderstood something. Make it all make sense in that terrible, infuriating, brilliant way of hers. But Vi never came. One day Ambessa locked the window, posted a guard and that was the end of it. 

“You look like her,” Vi says. 

Caitlyn feels like she’s been slapped. 

“Sometimes she’s still that kid, too smart for her own good,” she throws an arm over her eyes, “still standing in that room with those things in her hand—.”

The comparison stings, the way only a truthful one can. Again. How many ways has she played it over in her head. All she had to do was pull the trigger. She had the shot. So many shots, the weight of that magazine was impossible. She could have emptied every one into Jinx’s chest. Jinx was evil back then, she deserved it back then. If she had taken the shot her mother would be alive. Piltover, the Undercity, they would all be different. Instead she hesitates and Jinx knocks her out and the next thing she knows her mother is dying a city away. 

“And yet you walk away,” she says.

“Leaders don’t get to be selfish,” she says.

Vi is drunkenly sprawled out on her couch, she doesn’t look like she’s leading much of anything. Caitlyn doubts those are her words. 

“You don’t know the first thing about leadership,” she says.

“No, but my dad did,” Vi says. 

Of course it would be her father’s words. The father Caitlyn led Ambessa right to. No-one knew they were down there, they had been manipulated into a trap. Or she had. Caitlyn doesn’t want to think too hard on it. If she does, she starts to consider that maybe Jinx didn’t know her mother was a Counselor. Didn’t know who she was aiming that rocket towards. And that makes it very hard to swallow anything, even her own spit. Behind her she hears Vi stretch out on the leather, perhaps she’s too drunk to reason this either. 

She pulls out a throw blanket she keeps for nights in the office and drags it over Vi. One of Vi’s hands catches her fingers. 

“Leave,” she says. Caitlyn frowns, “wherever you are, leave,” she drops he hand, “I hate it when you look like her.” 

&&&&

When Vi opens her eyes she realizes it wasn’t a dream. 

She’s in Caitlyn’s fancy office. She very clearly tore down some map she worked hard on. And she’s under a very fancy blanket that might be the warmest, softest thing she’s ever felt. Her mouth feels like sandpaper though and her head is definitely trying to crack open with every pulse of her heart. She shoves the heels of her hands into her eyes. Loris is the best and the worst drinking buddy a girl could ask for. 

“You’re awake,” Caitlyn says, stepping fully into the room carrying a tray with two steaming mugs and a plate of sandwiches.

“Yeah,” Vi says, pushing herself up.

Caitlyn presses her lips together and sets the tray down. She’s wearing her usual Enforcer gear, her hair is tucked into its usual bun. She’s still imposing but she doesn’t look comical anymore. It makes it easier and harder to sit next to her and take the mug she hands her. 

“It’s tea,” Caitlyn says, “I haven’t poisoned it.”

“I didn’t think you had,” Vi says quickly, “did I—“ she motions to the wall. Caitlyn glares, “sorry.”

“Was that your intention in coming here?” She asks. 

“Huh? No!” Vi is surprised that it kind of hurts to have Caitlyn look at her with such mistrust, “I wasn’t ‘intending’ to come here at all.” 

“Right,” Caitlyn says shortly pushes herself up, “you need to stop getting your guards drunk.”

“You need to stop sending them,” Vi retorts. 

“That’s not going to happen,” Caitlyn tells her, busying herself with some of the endless papers strewn about, “not until we defeat the threat.”

“Powder isn’t a threat,” she says automatically. Caitlyns’ eyes narrow. 

“I was talking about Ambessa,” she says, “Jinx isn’t a threat to you, she is a threat to Piltover.”

The name makes Vi think of that stupid party with those stupid chairs. When she told her she could have Powder back. When she chose to be Jinx after Caitlyn didn’t shoot her. She hates the thoughts of that room. But she refuses to linger in them. 

“She goes by Powder now.”

“Maybe to you!” Caitlyn says and the indignant anger is back, “to the rest of us she’s Jinx.”

“And what are you to them?” Vi demands before she can stop herself. Caitlyn stiffens and sucks in a breath. But if Vi’s going to stick her foot in her mouth, she’s going to get it all the way up there, “the people you swore to protect are afraid of you.”

“I know that!” Caitlyn argues, wrapping her arms around herself, “I hate it—“

“So change it!” 

“I don’t know how!”

Vi glares at her and walks over to the wardrobe, yanking it open and ripping down that stupid fucking cloak. Caitlyn watches her as she strides over to her and shoves the cloak in her face. 

“Start by burning this stupid thing and try being a fucking human being again!” she spits.

Caitlyn looks outraged but Vi doesn’t care. There’s so much shit going on but Caitlyn’s still hunting Powder. Still enacting martial law. Still traipsing around cloaked in Ambessa’s authority and her mother’s money. 

“I am,” Caitlyn says and Vi can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“Why am I wasting my breath? Of course you are,” she says, “General.” 

Caitlyn stares furiously at her in silence for a moment. 

“You don’t know me,” Caitlyn says. 

“And whose fault is that?” Vi throws up her hands,” you know what? Do what you want, I’m out.” 

She leaves before Caitlyn can say anything.

&&&&

 Martial law lifts the next day.

It’s three days before Vi wakes from her bender to find Loris back.

She lets him stay.

&&&&

She’s thumbing through her notecards for the morning speech, trying to find the right words.

“You’re sounding almost human again, Cupcake.”

Her fingertips tighten on the cards but she doesn’t dare turn around. It’s been a month since she saw her last. Vi eases herself into the room and approaches. Caitlyn finally lets herself appraise her. She’s wary but she’s here. The anger has a cautious edge. Her hair is long enough now to touch her shoulders on the side she grows out. The other side has been freshly shaved. She smells less like a bottle and more like a person. 

“That almost sounds like a compliment.”

Vi shrugs and walks over to the wall. Caitlyn feels the start of her own panic and shoves it aside. She doesn’t want Vi to see, she wants her stay. But she’ll see eventually and Caitlyn knows she’ll be more upset about the betrayal than the new map trying to track her sister. She lets out a deep breath. Caitlyn looks down at her notes. If they start to fight she’ll never have time to properly prepare. 

“What are you going to do with her?” 

The genuineness of the question makes Caitlyn pause. She would love to see Jinx dead. She deserves to see it properly. Finally. She’s seen Jinx almost dead. Seen her sprawled out completely still. And every time she does she sees Vi curled over her. She feels Vi shove her away to grab Jinx. The part of her that screams for blood is not one that cares about justice. That part of her screams in a child’s voice that she is a Kiramman. What she wants is the only thing that matters. She wishes it wasn’t so loud. She wishes she didn’t give in every time she sees the order to shoot her on sight.  

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says, “why?”

Vi leans forward and presses her forehead to the wall. 

“She’s getting bad again.” 

Caitlyn tries not to think about the room, the rocket, her mother. She forces herself to be grounded in the present. Vi still has her forehead against the wall. One of her hands curls into a fist. There are so many scars on her hands. She presses her knuckles into the wall. Caitlyn expects her to put her fist through it. Something sets in Vi’s shoulders and she turns around. Caitlyn’s aware of a paper fluttering to the ground but she just focuses on Vi’s clear eyes. 

“I want the same protections on her,” she says, “taken alive, that nice cell, only I get to see her.”

“You’e giving her up?” Caitlyn can barely hear her. 

“I don’t know where she is,” Vi says, “she keeps appearing and doing stupid shit. She won’t let me near her,” her fists ball by her sides, “she keeps trying to get shot. Your guys, suck by the way, but she’s not thinking.”

Caitlyn swallows against the tightness in her throat. Vi is asking her to protect Jinx. It’s a barbed compromise, one she never expected to be offered. Self loathing radiates off Vi. She’s desperate. Like she was back in that cell when she saw the drawing. Just like that she struggles for a mask of indifference. But it’s a poor one now. Caitlyn can see right through it. She commands Caitlyn’s attention and stares her down. 

“If you do it I’ll stay here with you.” 

The nausea steals her breath away. Something lights in Vi’s eyes and she steps forward. She’s offering what Caitlyn wants and all Caitlyn can think is if she vomits on her desk there’s going to be so much paperwork to redo. She clings to that thought as Vi takes another step forward. 

“I’ll say here and I’ll be an Enforcer again.”

“Stop!” Caitlyn tastes bile. Vi’s eyes widen and Caitlyn knows she’s thinking this is about Jinx. Maybe it is, maybe some part of it is. But all Caitlyn can think is that Vi would do anything she asked in that moment. And Vi believes it would work, “Just—“ Caitlyn scrambles for the order, for her seal. She can barely see as she scrawls out what Vi wants and seals it, “get out,” she says. 

“Huh?” Vi’s features twist.

“This is the order for her protection. Give it to the commander and just—“ her stomach rolls, “just get out.”

Vi’s lip curls but she takes the order. Caitlyn counts her breath until she hears the door close. Then she flies over to the bathroom and looses whatever she’s eaten that day. 

&&&&

Turns out, not everything’s blue. 

That’s all Vi thinks as she holds back Caitlyn’s hair while she vomits. She was fine five minutes ago and then she went pale and now she’s tossing her cookies. Vi keeps her hair back as she finishes, her shoulders shaking. She stiffens when she seems to realize she’s not alone. 

“Get it all out, Cupcake,” Vi says, trying for levity. 

“You thought I would take you for her,” Caitlyn says, finally looking up at her, “after everything—“

“Hey—“

“Do you really think so little of me?” 

Caitlyn appraises her as sharply as anyone can in that position and Vi doesn’t know what to say. Caitlyn interprets her silence as the complete answer, not the conflict. She moves away, straightening up and tugging her jacket back to perfection. Vi gets up but it’s not like it makes a ton of difference. Caitlyn rinses her mouth and pulls back her hair. She meets Vi’s eyes in the mirror, looking more collected than anyone whose been vomiting has a right to. 

“I don’t want you here,” she lies, her eyes narrowing at Vi’s scoff, “you don’t trust me to honor the order.”

“It’s not that simple,” Vi argues, unable to look away from Caitlyn’s gaze as her eyes harden, “Cait we gassed the Undercity. You were shipping people in trains off to Stillwater—“ she can see Caitlyn throwing up every wall until her eyes are flat, “yeah,” the truth tastes barbed, “you’re right, I don’t trust you to honor this.”

Caitlyn breaks their eye contact and leaves the bathroom without a word. So much blue covers her world, all of it is unyielding. Jinx think’s she’s fine and won’t let Vi within ten feet of her. Won’t let her touch her for anything. Caitlyn will watch her from someone else’s eyes and agree to shit she doesn’t want to, but she won’t let Vi be around. Vi knows the world kept spinning when she went away but she doesn’t get how she’s supposed to be around all these people who want her safe but don’t want her around. 

She forces herself out as Caitlyn sets down her pen and picks up her seal. She holds out the paper, though Vi is pretty sure she knows what it is. 

“Thanks,” she says, the words leaden in her mouth.

“I’ve kept my orders regarding you,” Caitlyn points out. 

Vi’s used to being short but she feels about ten inches tall. 

“Yeah,” she says finally. Caitlyn keeps staring her down. Like she’s waiting for something. Vi hopes it’s not an apology, she isn’t getting one, “still want me to—“

“Yes. Go.” 

&&&&

Caitlyn wears the cloak during her next speech. 

Vi is sober when she helps Loris back to the hideout.

&&&&

There is a lot of paperwork that comes with stripping someone of being an Enforcer. 

Caitlyn never got around to it. 

She couldn’t bring herself to put pen to paper and make things real. Then things got busy. It never seemed like it was ever going to be a problem, not considering how things occurred. At some point Maddie had filled out the forms and left them ‘just needs you seal’. She still didn’t. She just put them in the bottom of the pile and resolved to file them when she got around to it. 

It’s only when she comes back to Vi sitting in her office, rolling her badge across her knuckles, that she remembers where the papers even are. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says. 

“You know when I flashed this at the door, they just let me in,” Vi muses, “I was just going to take the win but then I scanned it,” her fingers close around the badge, “I’m still an Enforcer.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, there’s no point in lying about that, “I forgot to file the paperwork.”

Vi gives a purposeful look around her pristinely organized office. Caitlyn ignores it and walks over to the wardrobe, undoing the fastening and hanging up the cloak. Vi scoffs in the background. Caitlyn’s fingers tighten in the blue fabric. At the time she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Now she forgets why. It’s certainly not too late. 

“I will file it—“

“Remember when you said this doesn’t work if we don’t trust each other?” Vi says abruptly.

Back in the Undercity. Back with Vi bleeding out and throwing herself off of everything. Back when something made sense, even if Caitlyn was learning everything was a lie at the exact same time. But Vi was brilliant and brave and that made facing the impossible easier somehow. Now it’s just her and everything continues to be a lie, but there’s a coldness to it that makes her bones ache. 

“I think you were onto something,” she says. She walks over to the fire, pulls out the backup order and tosses it in. 

“I won’t rescind the order,” Caitlyn says. That should be the end of it. But Vi looks at her with her grey eyes and seems to cut through all her defenses, “but I don’t forgive her. I still want her to pay.” 

She expects Vi to explode but she just ducks her head and looks back at the fire. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you she was there,” Vi says, “I was just thinking about saving our dad.”

Caitlyn knows she has so much to apologize for. To so many people. Most of all to Vi. But she’s been trapped on the precipice while Vi just hurls herself off of it. Like it’s natural to apologize, dust yourself off and keep going. Caitlyn doesn’t know how Vi is so fearless. She always thought when she was able to see the real world, she would be as well. But she’s not. Her parents always showed her she could do anything, she deserved to do anything she wanted. Because she was a Kiramman. And yet it’s Vi whose brave and forgiving while she’s wondering how to be any of that. 

“I didn’t file the paperwork because I was hoping you would come back,” she says finally. 

“You can’t even look at me half the time,” Vi points out, something morose in her tone that guts Caitlyn. 

“It hurts,” Caitlyn admits finally, unable to complete the sentence. 

“Me too,” Vi says, her fingers curling against the mantle. 

She takes a deep breath and pushes herself away, moving towards the window. It’s hard for her to be there, it’s hard to watch her walk away. Caitlyn doesn’t know what possesses her to speak when they’ve only just managed to have something resembling a normal conversation. 

“I won’t wear the cape if you stay for morning drills.” 

Vi pauses and turns around. 

She doesn’t talk though so Caitlyn continues. 

“We fought well together.” 

“You mean when you saved my life and carried me off the battlefield?” Vi offers, but her hands are in her pockets and she steps forward. Away from the window, “Think you did most of the work there.”

“I usually do,” Caitlyn says. Vi scoffs, “it would be good to practice as—“

“A team?” Vi offers. Caitlyn nods. Vi considers her for a moment and then shrugs, “I could use a workout.”

Something in Caitlyn’s chest starts to flutter, even as she desperately tries to tamp it down. Vi walks over to the door. 

“Oh Loris is hungover, so go easy on him.” 

&&&&

General Kiramman and Enforcer Kiramman are blue. 

Caitlyn is red. 

Red like her sparring wraps, red like fire, red like a blush. Red like a memory. Red like blood. Red like the angry line that bisects her face from Ambessa’s blade. Vi finds her in front of the mirror, staring at her remaining eye. 

“I deserve this,” she says, like she’s trying to convince herself. 

“I’ve got those scars too,” Vi offers.

Caitlyn meets her eyes in the mirror, gasps and nearly topples over. Vi’s had her eye swollen shut enough to appreciate the loss of depth perception. Though she knows that’s not the only reason. She’s by her in a flash, steadying her quickly. Caitlyn tenses but doesn’t yank away. She just turns her head away. Caitlyn’s always looked pretty perfect, even running around the Undercity. Vi thinks the leg scar may have been her first one. This is a pretty spectacular second. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says quickly, “should you be out of bed?”

“I had to see,” Caitlyn says. Her eye scans across Vi’s face. Vi would look away but she doesn’t want to risk dropping her, “how long are your eyes going to glow?“

That makes her glance in the mirror. She doesn’t recognize the pink eyes that glow back at her. Not set in her own face anyway. The doctors said the glow should lessen as the drug works itself out of he system. Vi has no intention of becoming a shimmer addict. Even if the stuff saved her life. 

“A few days maybe,” she says, “docs say they might stay pink though. Is that—” Vi doesn’t know how to ask if that is something that’s going to rip them apart again. It’s not something she can change. 

Caitlyn motions vaguely at her missing eye. 

“I suppose both our eyes are different now,” she says, wincing when she tries to give a reassuring smile. 

“Let’s get you bandaged,” Vi tells her, “lean on me.” 

Caitlyn sits in front of her and lets Vi wind bandages over the cut. It will be a long road of healing but they are both alive. At the moment that’s the only fucking thing that matters. She tries to be gentle as she secures the bandage behind Caitlyn’s head. Caitlyn focuses on her with her remaining eye. The white threats through her hair but Vi can’t forget the red. 

“You’re pink,” Caitlyn muses. 

“Give it time, your scar will match,” Vi points out, “don’t try to smile,” she says when Caitlyn winces. There’s no shimmer Thank god, just those white tablets that take the edge off, “here.” 

Caitlyn takes them. Vi knows it’s darker in Cait’s canopy bed but it all seems the same as the shimmer heightens everything. She doesn’t know how any of this is going to play out. But some part of her and Caitlyn are painted with the same color for once. 

And somehow that’s all that matters.