#far far overdue but I always had the draft from when I made it just never posted it :(

[ghcstlykisscs]

@thesunandmoondreams

Gray Yeon / Sieun Yeon as the Nure-onna (濡女)

A Japanese yokai which resembles a reptilious vampiric sea serpent….With the lower body of a serpent and the upper body of a beautiful woman along with a forked tongue and long wet hair that sticks to their bodies. Their name comes from the fact that they always appear soaking wet.

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: Hitoshi has never been so annoyed by his new cat stealing your attention from him and ruining all your dates. A/N: I'M SO SORRY I LET THIS COOK IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG AND I GOT LAZY AT THE END @/katsukistofu anyways, actual A/N: the cat's name can be interpreted as a reference to the Apothecary Diaries or a pun on meowing or in Chinese literally catcat WARNINGS: Mentions of poop (it's cat, what'd you expect) and probably very OOC Hitoshi (forgive me I haven't finished MHA)

Hitoshi wanted to throttle everyone in the room and then himself. Not the best way to start your mornings.

“Everyone in the room” was actually just his cat. Of course you could count Eri and Aizawa downstairs but in truth the only one Hitoshi wanted to actually (not really) throttle was the cat. Possibly himself later too when you inevitably get mad/laugh at him.

He doubted the cat in question knew that though. Or if Maomao knew that she didn't care. Hitoshi side eyes her from the mirror, still in the process of getting ready. She continues her washing on his bed, either very obliviously or very smugly.

Hitoshi liked cats. Loved and adored them, in fact. But ever since THIS particular, traitorous feline waltzed into his life he might make an exception.

It probably started when he introduced Maomao to you. He'd been pretty worried to how his new pet would take to you, because if his beloved girlfriend and precious cat didn't get along he'd get another reason for insomnia. Thankfully however, you had immediately fallen for the innocent-looking Calico, getting on your knees at once to pet and coo and fawn over her. Maomao, in turn, ate it up and made a huge racket when you had to leave eventually. So far, so good - until Maomao decided to subsequently betray the one who had adopted her and be a gigantic (beep)block.

Only Eri believed him when he was complaining about how every time he tried to cuddle you, bam, Maomao was there to yowl and get in between. Wanna kiss? Um, no, Maomao just had to run into your legs and beg for head pats. Close the door and sleep without her? Nah, no, nope, she stayed outside wailing and scratching. Enjoy a movie night? Haha, Maomao thought not, so of course she tipped over the popcorn bowl on purpose, right?!

One time Hitoshi gave you a kitty plushy that resembled Maomao. The cat in question (jealously, he swore to the wide eyed Eri) stole it and it still hadn't been found; she took a dump right beside her litter box to be petty as well.

You ate it up. You succumbed to her cute, beseeching eyes to hug HER (and not him), let her get in the middle of you two on the couch (you even shooed him away to make room) and the audacity! You always complained if he took up most of the blanket you two were sharing, and when Maomao hogged up everything? You let her.

He couldn't believe how you utterly believed the cat's obviously jealous, possessive nature. The nerve of Maomao, to steal his girlfriend when he was the one to rescue her!

While Eri believed him completely, no matter how cute she was it wasn't going to give him much credibility.

Therefore, as Hitoshi suspiciously watched Maomao saunter out of his bedroom, he was going to come up with a plan to FINALLY get some long overdue kisses, dates and affection from you without Maomao interrupting.

STEP 1: Begin by showing the cat who's boss.

Hitoshi glared viciously at the creature who had first crawled in between you and him, therefore interrupting yet another cuddle session before demanding you to go get her some more treats as if he hadn't just fed her an hour ago. To top it off Maomao was now triumphantly meowing at him and pawing at the plushy you had gifted him.

“You're not getting that. You might have my own girlfriend wrapped around your paw but you and I know what you're REALLY like.” Hitoshi wondered if his mind control extended to animals, particularly the one now hissing at his reluctance to hand over the plushy.

“First you steal my girl and now you want my plush? That's low, even for you.” The cat's eyes widened innocently as Hiroshi's narrowed. “Let's not forget who rescued you from the streets, Mao. Or who's been changing your kitty litter, feeding you or bought you all those toys. Remember I'M the one paying for all your vet and grooming visits. So the least you can do is at least let me enjoy one movie night with my girlfriend, thanks, instead of hogging up everything.”

Huh. He didn't actually think that would work. Maomao looked disdainful but trotted away.

You reappeared, holding a bowl of popcorn and setting down a bowl of Maomao’s cat food. “Hey, where'd she go?”

“Somewhere.” Somewhere where she was probably throwing a tantrum, Hitoshi meant, but he grabbed you and managed to spend a pleasant two hours getting snuggled and teasing you about your overreactions to the movie.

Then Maomao jumped on him and spilt the leftover popcorn everywhere before walking off proudly.

STEP 2: Attempt to appease your feline by providing them with more affection, food and playtime. Your cat may simply be feeling left out.

In other words, bribery was his next method.

Bribery and spoiling, really. For the next three days Hitoshi did his utmost best - Maomao was fed nothing but her favourites, Hitoshi bought her a new toy which they spent countless hours playing with, he let her nap in his bed, Eri helped him pick out a new collar, blah blah blah. Everyone absolutely showered Maomao with attention and affection. So far she seemed very pleased with herself, strutting her around with her tail swishing and purring loudly for all to hear.

Surely, surely, she wouldn't mess with the study session you and him were going to have, right? Right?

Hitoshi was beginning to believe that as time passed; the both of your heads were bent forward, trying to make sense of maths. The click of pens, the flipping of pages, the crunch of your third bag of chips were the only sounds around. He wasn't worried about Maomao’s silence either - she couldn't possibly be causing trouble while sleeping in a patch of sunlight.

“I think we did a pretty good job, ‘Toshi.” You stretched your arms, yawning exaggeratedly. “Not to be lazy but I really want a snack. Something grape flavoured.”

Hitoshi raised his eyebrows, lifting his eyes away from his essay. “No.”

“Oh come on, don't act like you're not hungry, I heard your stomach growling-”

“No as in I know exactly what “snack” you want. Enough eating those grape gummies. You're addicted.”

“Hitoshi!” You whined. “Stop outing me!”

In the end you both compromised with a bag of sour cream chips each, no sharing. Well, no sharing from your end, really - Hitoshi gave in with a sigh as you leaned towards him with puppy dog eyes when your bag empties, feeding you the chips. Maomao awakens and decides to drop by, meowing for the crumbs as well. Hitoshi shoos her away from his books, informing her she’s already eaten and he wasn’t even sure if cats could eat sour cream. Maomao sulks when he gives the chip she wanted to you instead.

But it turns out it’s Hitoshi that’s left sulking as Maomao leaps onto the table and knocks over his coffee all over the desk and steals the chips. While he won’t admit it to you or Maomao or anyone - yes he’s concerned about the sour cream thing and wasted half an hour researching if his stupid cat was going to be okay.

STEP 3: If that fails try asking someone else to care for your cat while you both are away.

“Don’t forget to feed Maomao, she’s not supposed to have-”

“Hitoshiiii! I know!” Eri makes a face, hugging the cat close to her chest as she rolls her eyes and pouts. “Trust me, Maomao’s my cat as well!”

“Yeah, but you’re still taking her to your friend’s house, so I don’t want anyone getting into trouble.”

“Quit being a worrywart! Go have fun with your loooooooover!”

“You know what, the faster you leave, the happier I’ll be,” Hitoshi grumbled, pushing Eri out of the door gently to where Aizawa was waiting impatiently. “Shoo, homewrecker.”

“Bye, Hitoshi!”

“Good riddance.” He gives her a side hug anyway. Maomao hisses, annoyed she was being forced to leave. Hitoshi paid her no mind, seeing as she had been throwing hissy fits all day as if she knew you were coming and Maomao wouldn't be around.

You come over soon, exclaiming over the loss of his cat’s company, but you get over it quickly. You both have the house to yourself, after all, and the freedom to do whatever you wanted until Aizawa came back. Hitoshi's guardian needn't have been suspicious of you both getting up to no good however; you both wound up wasting most of your time making dinner - a shockingly complicated recipe you had insisted on.

“I'll bring the ingredients, you don't have to worry about anything!”

Pfft, yeah right, now he has to worry about the mess you’re - fine, you both are - making in the kitchen. The floor’s all wet, the sink is overflowing, it’s a literal water park. The recipe wasn’t even halfway done yet.

“You know what, I’m going to get a mop, you can continue with - whatever it is you’re doing.” Hitoshi pinches the bridge of his nose in mock exasperation. You roll your eyes but agree, huffing as you push your sleeves back again.

“By the way, where’s Maomao?”

“Eri took her to a sleepover. Didn’t think she liked that idea much though.”

“Real! Maomao only ever wants to be with you,” you laughed.

“Nah, more like you,” Hitoshi grumbled. “She’s never happy when she’s not there and you are.”

“Mhm, you’re-” You’re cut off by Hitoshi’s unexpected yelp and the clanging coming from the bathroom where he’s gone to go fetch the mop. Dropping whatever you’re holding you rush over there in a panic. “Toshi! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, that stupid cat took a shit here!”

“Isn’t she toilet trained? Did you step on- Oh god. You stepped on it.”

“Stop laughing at me!”

Even gone the blasted cat still managed to ruin a date. Hitoshi fumed silently.

STEP 4: Still unsuccessful? Try giving them a new friend, as they might be acting out from loneliness.

This particular method, unfortunately, quickly backfired on him.

“Aw look! They’re playing together, Jirou!”

“Huh, didn’t think Sora was capable of playing gently. She nearly gave Kaminari a heart attack jumping at him the other day.”

“Hey! Jirooooouuuuuu!”

“No, wait, Maomao, don’t do that!”

“Sora stop barking so loudly-”

Hitoshi’s overly exaggerated groan is barely heard over the din. His head lolled back, staring up at the sky. “Are we biking or not at this rate?”

Not that anyone heard him. You’re too preoccupied with cooing over Maomao, Jirou and her boyfriend Kaminari Denki trying to get their new puppy to stop eating rocks. It was supposed to be a biking-trip-at-the-park-double-date, for heaven’s sake, how did it spiral into this?

Maomao pawed at his leg. Hitoshi tilted his head back forward to glare half-heartedly at her. “You’re lucky you’re so cute. It’s your fault again.”

He’s even more offended when Maomao opts to sit in YOUR bicycle basket rather than his. Denki’s - traitorous friend that he is - snickering at him before Sora pees on his shoe.

STEP 5: As a last resort, consider punishing the kitten. Do not give them attention in any way. It is called the time out corner for a reason.

“Where’s Maomao?”

“Pay no attention to her.” Hitoshi burrowed deeper into your neck, his tone a request. “She’s being punished right now.”

“…for what?”

“A lot of things.”

“Like?”

“….every time you come she steals your attention. Just let me enjoy this.” Hitoshi’s voice holds the smallest hint of a whine. You mentally stored that away. “She was meowing at the door waiting for you at 3 in the morning!”

You twirl a strand of his purple hair, barely hiding your smirk. Ah, so all along…”Is that bad your cat loves me more than she loves you?”

“I adopted her!”

“Oh my god. You really are jealous of your cat.” You couldn’t help it. You collapsed on your side, crying with mirth. Hitoshi sits up straight, insulted, taking a cushion off the couch to smack you with.

“Stop that! I’m not!”

“Say that again; you’re not even convincing yourself!” Oh god, this made so much sense. You wiped at your streaming eyes, coughing up the last of the laughter. “No wonder you were - I can’t - this is too funny - I thought you were acting a little weird the past fortnight - oh my god -”

“Fine, fine, stop laughing! I was jealous! There, I said it, you happy?”

“But why?” You fondly pulled your dumbass of a boyfriend closer, squishing his cheek. Even sulky he was still cute.

“She keeps interrupting our dates.” Hitoshi’s voice is already muffled by your clothes but his muttering makes it worse.

“…”

“No.”

“….”

“STOP LAUGHING!”

“In all seriousness, Toshi, you could’ve just told me. We’ll remake all the dates without Maomao this time, alright? Swear on my life.” You even hold up a pinky.

His own grudgingly raises and locks it around yours.

“You can let Maomao out of punishment now.”

“Eh, no. She’s actually there because she scratched Aizawa’s car today.”

Alternatively, you could always just tell your girlfriend you’re jealous of the cat because the cat’s jealous of you both. She will immediately rush to reassure you and provide you with the much-craved, long-awaited affection you both had been denied by the cat.

Side effects, however, include providing her and everyone else with enough ammunition to tease you with for the next decade.

“Wait, Hitoshi was jealous of a cat?” Denki’s practically howling. Jirou sniggers quietly. “Does this mean he’s a pus-”

“Stop talking.”

Jirou nods appreciatively. “Now I wish i had mind control when it comes to this idiot.”

[yoimix]

genshin men + mutual pining

ft. childe, ayato

playlist. disaster - conan gray ; accidentally in love - counting crows ; love, or the lack thereof - isaac dunbar

note. this has been rotting in my drafts for too long i’m sorry anon :((

[ requested by anon! ; cw: suggestive, alcohol ]

✽ childe thinks of you far too highly to try his usual tactics. he’s known you for more than half his life now, and best friends aren’t exactly cutting it for him. you’re not children in snezhnaya anymore, holding a wedding ceremony for your snowmen or getting yelled at by your mothers to hold hands after a big fight. there are graver stakes now. and people change. when you disagree, childe can’t just laugh it off obnoxiously to see you steam from the ears. when you have a serious fight, he can’t just hold your hand and say sorry till you agree to talk to him. no, he’d get a glare and if he’s lucky, a punch to the gut instead. maybe you’ll even tell him to piss off. you give him no hint of affection, and he’s starving for it. despite the warmth of your skin, your gaze is cold and it sends him into overdrive. perhaps you too believe that romance is forbidden for vassals of the tsaritsa. or maybe he’s plain mistaken, and you’re not his after all. even so, you make his heart pump blood all the way to his fingertips, sparking with electricity. the rush is unmatched when you smile at him. the confession is overdue. spilling it with alcohol on his lips, however, was not his ideal plan.

“(name),” childe slurs, a blissful smile on his face. “just please look at me. oh my, you’re so pretty.”

“ugh, tsaritsa guide me. the stench of alcohol.” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “just because the wine was free didn’t mean you had to glug fifteen glasses of them! what will the qixing think?!”

“that i’m the pride of snezhnaya?” he laughs loudly. “okay, okay, don’t get mad at me. but did you see? i outdrank all of those old fools! ugh, the little lady seemed unimpressed but that hardly matters. who did she think she was anyway? the yuheng?”

“she was.”

“oh.”

he pauses to blink slowly, before turning to you with a boyish grin. it’s horrifying how it makes your heart flutter, and you might as well plunge into the chasm before you admit that. the rain outside the hotel gets louder, and you just want this night to be over with. when morning comes, you can pretend childe didn’t make it look like you’re on a honeymoon to the entire city of liyue and half your subordinates.

“well, at least the crowd loved me.”

“and you’re going to be throwing up all night,” you huff, pulling him up by his shirt before he leans too far and faceplants onto the ground. instead, he takes it as an invitation to wrap his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. you’re not sure when, in the transition to adulthood, it started bothering you. he’s the last person you should be thinking about like that.

“ah, i love it when you hold me,” he grins with the glee of a kid watching fireworks. “this is so much more comfortable than my coat. how do you always have warm hands?”

“and how do you always manage to embarrass me in the most ridiculous ways?”

he furrows his brows, plush pink lips forming into a pout. “what did i do?”

“what, pretend to profess your love to me in public and crash a dinner party? i get that everyone was drunk and saying stupid shit but you didn’t have to rope me into it!”

“please, it was hardly a serious matter.” he waves his hand dismissively. “a little coworker outing, if you will. it’s a coincidence some qixing officials were having a dinner party.”

“it got so loud we were kicked out of the restaurant.” you might as well be steaming from the ears now. “what do you think the qixing will do if they see snezhnayan diplomats making trouble in liyue? you’re lucky i talked it out with the yuheng but goodness, you made us- you made us look so silly!”

you say it with so much distaste, childe flinches. the blood rushes to your face at the memory of him clinging to you the whole time you tried to explain to keqing that snezhnaya is in fact not up to weird schemes or trying to drown the harbor.

“aww, you had fun too. you were all cute and flustered talking to the qixing girl.”

“that’s because you made us look like a couple, stupid!”

“what’s so bad about that?” he asks quietly.

“oh my god, they think we’re dating.”

“we could be,” he responds softly, a longing sigh following. 

you turn to look at his face, flustered. you can feel his breath against your cheek, his ocean eyes trained on your own. when did he lean so close?

“you’re drunk,” you state bluntly. 

“but the truth is...” he pauses to giggle. “...is still that i love you.”

you gulp. “liar.”

he lets out a dry chuckle, running the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. “don’t say that. i’ll just keep falling.”

“stop it, ajax.” a pang of hurt shoots through your chest, a wistful weed blooming between your ribs. he only wants you when he’s drunk, does he? you should’ve expected no better from mr casual himself.

“i know you think you’re smooth, but you’re taking it too far now.” you take a deep breath, trying not to get too upset. he’s just drunk.

“how far do you think i can take it?” he breathes over your skin, leaned far enough to kiss you if he wanted to, if you wanted to. the flush of his cheeks rivals his oh-so-pink lips, but it’s the vulnerability in his eyes that throws you off. you always thought they were starry like the reflection of the night sky over the ocean. the others, however, describe stormy seas, with no guiding light for miles. 

the consequences to mistaking his feelings is just too catastrophic for you to bear.

“(name), stop.” he comes to a halt abruptly, twisting his wrist from your grip to grab yours instead. you’re suddenly pulled into his chest, a surprised yelp leaving your mouth.

“let’s go home, ajax,” you press, impatient. you didn’t mean to say that, especially when it doesn’t make sense so far from home. you’re just used to saying that when he’s being difficult.

“i am home.” he frowns, gloved hands holding onto both of your wrists. his eyes are pleading, but for what you don’t know. “and did you miss my entire i love you speech or did i imagine saying that?”

“you’re drunk out of your mind and just saying—”

“i’m not. i’ll say it to you in the morning, i’ll say to you tomorrow and the day after and i’ll keep saying it till you just look at me.”

you finally meet his eyes—the intense azure you’ve known all your life begging for you to see him the way he does you. there were better ways to go about this. what did you expect from this walking disaster?

you hold his face between your thumb and forefinger, his cheeks puffing up. he looks too adorable and it’s pissing you off. before you can have any second thoughts, you quickly press your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. pulling back, you can only hold it in for two seconds before the expression on his face makes you burst into laughter.

“do that again,” he mumbles, a dazed smile on his face.

you grant him a quick kiss.

“again.”

kiss.

“and again.”

“you used to say three is the lucky number.”

he pouts. why did you have to fall in love with this manchild?

sighing, you grant him one final kiss, a satisfied sigh parting from his lips. “happy now? it’s time to go to bed, ajax.”

“woah, (name), is that why you wouldn’t kiss me? because you had other plans in the bedroo—”

“no. you’re going straight to sleep.”

he hums, smiling. “i love you.”

“mhm. i can tolerate you.”

“hey.”

“i love you too.”

✽ ayato’s self-restraint is the bane of your existence. he will look at you with his sharp lilac gaze, glance at your lips even, but he will do nothing more than a light touch to your hand or a flick to your forehead on certain occasions. it’s as though he’s aware of the rapid beating of your heart—but he refuses to be anything more than a tease. lately, he’s taken to leaning in closer than before when he pretends to not hear you during your evening walks. is he not aware you can feel his breath? and sometimes, he will place his hand on the small of your back to guide you. does he not know his touches light your skin on fire? honest to god, you hate him beyond measure at this point. when young love grows old, it’s only natural to harbor resentment too. you resent that teasing smile, you resent those playful eyes, you resent the mole by his lips you want to kiss so bad. and just like that, your heart is another piece he’s captured in this game of chess. in a way, though, you understand his roundabout ways of doing things. a man in his position ought to behave. for instance, right now, he shouldn’t be taking your hand outside a social gathering of inazuman elites, and running away like a schoolboy skipping class.

“are you sure you can do this?!” you huff, trying to keep up with ayato. there’s an idle sense of joy to his pace, his posture still elegant.

you, on the other hand, look like you just survived a dumpster fire. disheveled from the running, you finally catch a break once he stops by the torii gates of chinju forest.

“well, wasn’t that fun?” he asks, a smug smile on his face. “archons, the blabbering these men do. half a night and all i heard were complaints about their wives and their boring, unambitious ideas for inazuma.”

you whistle. “i never know how you handle your meetings. each one sounds worse than the last.”

“yes, but i can’t brute force my job like some people do.” he gives you a pointed look. 

you glare at him. “well, some occupations don’t require being a crafty, meddling rascal. you wouldn’t know.”

“i like that about you,” he says, quieter. his gaze is soft, like a field of blooming hyacinths. it catches you off guard. 

“w-well- i- uh i- i have a lot more likeable traits than you give me credit for,” you defend, unable to return his gaze.

“so do i,” he responds, a sly smile playing on his lips. “a lot more than you give me credit for.”

“i never said i didn’t,” you mumble in defeat. 

a firefly beelines for ayato’s shoulder but he gives no care towards it. instead he finally takes out the cup of boba tea from the little bag you’ve been carrying. the proximity of his face when he reaches, however, makes you hold your breath longer than intended. it’s so unfair that he’s this pretty. he smiles when he meets your gaze, taking out the other cup for you.

“you’re so easy to talk to, (name),” he sighs. there goes your poor heart.

you hum, tearing your eyes away from him. you’re hardly thinking as you blabber on. “you- you too. i... i don’t say this often but you... you’re a good person, ayato. i wish i could be with you forever.”

realizing what you said within the next fraction of a second, you straighten up, eyes widened in panic. it’s not the first time you’ve been reduced to a stuttering mess in front of the yashiro commissioner. curse your reckless tongue.

“forever?”

“i- i mean, i want to fall for a guy like you someday,” you laugh awkwardly, smacking his arm. what on teyvat are you saying? you have fallen for a guy like him and it is him. 

ayato presses his lips into a thin smile, eye twitching in annoyance.

“wh-what i mean is, it- it would be nice to be with someone like you,” you try to save and miserably fail.

you might as well get a shovel and start digging your grave right here in the forest. maybe the tanuki will dance over your dead body for entertainment. anything to get out of this situation that you, all by yourself, got into.

slender fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to the source of your misery.

“boba?” 

ayato looks at you expectantly, pressing the straw to your lips.

you nod, fighting the heat growing on your face. he’s too pretty.

“you know, i like it when you say these things to me.”

he’s always been a rude rascal. his smile is cheeky, yet it relieves of you any uncomfortable thoughts like rain on a hot summer day. i want to protect that smile, you thought to yourself once. it’s so rare to see him like this, as just ayato—your friend ayato who taught you to play (and lose) shogi, who gave you his best onikabuto whenever you sulked about yours, who smiled knowingly while you screeched about his awful cooking and showed him the directions again. how many afternoons had you spent with him till he was lost to the rhythm of life? if there really is a god to hear you, you’d pray for ayato to smile like this all the time.

“what do you mean?” you ask softly.

“you said once,” he muses, “that you want me to find someone who likes me for me.”

“i did?” you clear your throat. “i mean, i’d like that too. i- like- isn’t that what everyone wants? to be with someone who likes them as a person?”

“i like you as a person.”

you breathe in too hard, the tapioca pearls caught in your throat as a result. an ugly cough follows till ayato’s patting your back in a concerned motion. you finally spit out the boba, which unfortunately lands in a bush nearby, spooking some foxes.

“oh.” he looks like he’s holding in a laugh. “come now, this is no place to litter.”

“shut up.” you glare at him. “if you didn’t say things so suddenly—erm.”

you’re not sure how to explain yourself. his statement could be taken the wrong way, and you don’t want to be the first one to reveal yourself. if this is a game of shogi after all, you intend to win at least one against him.

“hm? is that what gets you so flustered? a few words from me?”

“you wish,” you huff. 

you feel his warm chuckle against your ear, and the warmth spreads down your neck. you turn to face him, feeling a bit stupid for reacting this way.

“what is it you want to say to me? hm? be honest, now. we're far past playing games, aren't we?"

"i don't know what you're talking about." you feign ignorance, hiding behind your fan.

you take a deep breath, hoping his presence will help you calm yourself. he's such a handful and you know it, but he also makes you feel so alive.

"oh? we can keep playing this game then," he hums, smiling. "you haven't won once against me, you know?"

"th-there's been several times i've beaten you in shogi," you huff.

"by cheating."

"i never cheat!"

“that smile is foul play,” he whispers. there’s barely a gap between your lips and ayato looks like he might just close it.

you feel panic rising. quickly, you press your palm to his mouth, effectively stunning him. it’s honestly cute to see him make this expression.

“we’re friends!” you blurt. “r-right? but god, there are things we can’t do when we’re just friends and you- you just keep testing my patience, ayato!”

a muffled response follows. you take a deep breath and remove your hand.

“it’s like you were going to kiss me,” you complain quietly, embarrassed.

he blinks monotonously. “but i did want to kiss you.”

your face heats up at an alarming rate. “huh? are you supposed to say that out loud?!”

“how else am i supposed to know?”

“know what?”

“if you want to kiss me or not.”

“i always want to kiss y—”

you clasp your hands over your mouth, embarrassed beyond thought. there is no way you said that out loud. the spark in ayato’s eyes only brightens to a more mischievous look.

“you said it yourself,” he says casually, “there are things we can’t do if we’re just friends.”

he takes a step closer. “and i want to do them with you, (name).”

you open your mouth but no response forms.

“so will you please let me kiss you?” he completes, the frustration built over the years finally fizzing out.

“yes,” you say, without thinking, admiring the beauty mark by his lips.

after all, in a sighing forest of promises unkept, who’s to tell of a nobleman’s kisses?

[saintship]

Hii! Can I request ghost x fem reader where the reader suffers with chronic pain as in struggles with walking and such? Also, if you don’t mind, could the reader be portrayed at pretty thin but ghost still loves her and her body? Ik the readers appearance is usually ambiguous but I struggle with weight gain due to my illness and being too thin is often something I’m insecure about. I’d really like to see ghost loving on that. But if you don’t want to give the reader more description I’m ok with that too! Thank you <33

I swear I posted this earlier today, go to check on it, and it’s sitting in my drafts

Anyway!

My inbox is exactly the place to get specific! I only do exclusively gender neutral when it’s just an idea from my own head, requests are geared toward the recipient apart from specific names so that no one is forced to put in a request to enjoy my blog

Hope you’re doing alright, and I hope you enjoy :)

There’s only like a one sentence mention of alcohol but this was the nicest gif I could scavenge that was relevant and didn’t have a person in it

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Falling through

Warm, summer nights like this seemed to slow everything down. Simon was situated in the kitchen pouring over some overdue paperwork while you folded your laundry in the bedroom, humming under your breath. You stood in front of the basket while you smoothed out each item and set it on the covers.

Suddenly, standing in one place for so long proved their consequences. Your joints cracked a bit as you lifted your heels, the popping of your ankles filling the quiet room. Sighing with a twinge of relief, you returned to folding Simon’s sweatshirt. It wasn’t as if it was shocking or concerning, the aching all throughout your body, yet that thought never seemed to ease the pain. You went for another sweatshirt in the basket, only for a particularly sharp tendril of pain to shoot up your neck and jaw.

You hissed softly through closed teeth, cradling the right side of your head. It wasn’t long before it came back; stronger this time, and stayed like a lingering smoke bomb. A quiet grunt escaped your throat as you lowered yourself to sit on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply with your eyes shut tight.

“What’s wrong?”

A voice at your doorframe caught your attention; you looked up to see Simon holding two glasses of amber liquor and a look of concern written into his eyes. He set the glasses down quickly, carefully taking a seat next to you.

You breathed fiercely through your nose—it was frustrating to feel this way, it made you look weak.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.” Simon urged gently. “Can I touch your hand?”

The skin there ached like the rest of your body, but not unbearably. You held it out to him, which he took so gently that you almost couldn’t believe those same hands did such violent things no longer than a week before his leave.

“Just hurts.” You managed, studying the seam of your sleep shorts.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was hardly a murmur, but you felt his breath on your skin before he pressed his lips to your shoulder. You wished you could indulge in the sensation, but he’d placed the kiss right over the end of that bone that felt far too exposed, and you unwillingly shrank away. He stayed still, watching with calculating eyes.

“What’s goin’ on in that head o’ yours?”

You’d always loved how his accent thickened as his voice grew quieter. Unfortunately the situation you found yourself in didn’t let you revel in the fact. A fresh wave of aching swept up your back, causing your breath to hitch. Your breathing quickened again, the pain flaring.

“Sh, sh..” Simon held your hand with both of his, soothing the skin with strokes of his thumb. “Breathe, sweetheart..”

Another frustrated grunt tore from your throat, your eyes beginning to sting. This feeling was hellish—the pain on top of the pressure weighing down to release the emotion you’d been especially avoiding since Simon had been home.

“I don’t like the way I look.”

And you’d said it. Your confession hung in the air like a long-lasting firework, smoking and glittering in the air. Simon sighed deeply.

“I know the feeling.”

You hadn’t expected such a response—you looked over to see he was now the one studying his sleepwear, lids hung low on sad eyes. “But it’s not true. You need to know that.”

His gaze returned to you as he spoke. “Every part of you is gorgeous.” He adjusted himself so he was facing you. “I love your strength, and your patience, I love the way you laugh, and, love, listen to me,” his words made you turn to face him.

“I love your body. Every inch. Every scar. Every hill and valley, every freckle..”

He lifted a finger to brush a smattering of delicate marks on your skin, making you smile.

“I know it’s not easy.”

His eyes held a wide space that told you what he said was true. Further, he likely never had a space to address those insecurities. A surge of affection and connection warmed your cheeks.

“Are you still sensitive?” He asked softly.

The aching was there, but not debilitating at present.

“No, I feel a bit better..”

“Can I show you what I’m saying?” His hand traveled up to rest behind your bicep, gently pulling you toward him.

“How?”

Instead of verbally answering, he took your waist and the underside of your knee in his arms, turning you in the air so you laid properly on the bed. Your yelp was overshadowed by his impressive sound effects, and your noise of surprise quickly transitioned to a laughing fit. Simon pulled back, grinning at his own antics, before leaning down to capture your lips.

He was especially touchy this time around; not one area of your body was left unattended to, or without praise. Eventually you lay in your shorts and bra, Simon hovering over your frame. You couldn’t help but watch the movement of the muscles in his back as he kissed down your neck for the umpteenth time.

“I love every part of you.” He whispered it into your sternum before kissing the skin there again, his lips soft and warmer than the June breeze.

He rose to sit against the headrest, situating you on his lap comfortably. You kissed him for a few moments before pulling back, studying the flecks of bright sapphire in his eyes.

“I love every part of you.”

You threw his words back at him, and he looked stunned. Kissing him again, you hoped to any god that would listen that your words stuck the way his did.

[doobnnoob-tf2]

I had the idea for this a little bit ago and had the basic outline for it in my drafts. finally decided to sit down and finish it

sorry that it's not the best! it would work better as a much longer thing, but I write better with shorter ficlets so I had to make do c':

==============================================

Scout broke the silence, bruised and battered, looking around at the pure carnage laid out before him. All thanks to the only other living man in the room. He looked at Spy's back as he stood over the body of the man who's throat he just slit. He was angry, furious even. But he had to know.

"Did.. did you mean that? What you said just then?"

Spy paused and turned, looking back at him. His face paled, the anger once there sapped from it in an instant.

Miss Pauling had shown up with a mission. Which wasn't unusual, nor was it when she asked for Sniper and Spy to come to the briefing room. What was unusual was Scout was asked to join them. It wasn't often he was asked to go on missions, period. And he certainly never was asked to go on one of their missions, no one was.

The mission was simple, but hindsight can only go so far.

Sniper was to be stationed on a building where he would have a clear view through every window. He was to be lookout. Keep Scout and Spy informed of every movement going on inside that building. Which wasn't the most exciting job, but he was certain used to it.

Scout's job was to be a distraction. Not too much of one to cause alarm. But enough of one to keep attention away from the main job.

Which was Spy's. To get in, make his way through the building, and get up to the target's room to steal some important paperwork for Saxton.

That was the plan. And everything started off smoothly.

That was until someone caught wind of a potential sniper on the roof around the same time someone realized Scout was not who he was claiming to be. He couldn't lie his way out of a paper bag, and instead it landed him being dragged off to an interrogation room.

And with Sniper no longer answering his radio, Spy was left to find him.

By the time he got there, he was furious. He'd already killed two guards, and incapacitated several more people. He was mockingly told exactly where "that brat" was. What they were doing to him. And he saw red.

So the moment he kicked the door in and saw one of the men in the room punch Scout in the gut, he didn't even hear himself as he marched over to end them.

"Don't you fucking touch my son."

Scout stood there, staring at Spy as he stared back at him. "Spy, answer me. Did you?" He stared at his face, watching the panic, the fear, the sheer dread wash across him. Each battling to take over. It was an answer enough. He dropped his gaze to the floor to think.

He was angry. He was hurt. He was.. confused. But he remembered one thing. One thing his Ma always told him growing up, something he can't ever remember her saying to any of his brothers. Something she'd tell him after he'd have an outburst, blaming his absent father for everything. She'd pull him aside and sit him down. He never understood it then, it only made him angrier.

He looked back up at Spy, who more or less appeared to completely check out, staring off. Scout felt his eyes burn with tears as he rushed over to hug Spy tight. "Ma always said you'd come back.."

Spy stood there, frozen, before he dropped the knife in his hand and clung to him just as tight. It took a moment before he found his voice again. "I may have broken many promises in my days.. but not that one. Never that one."

They stood there like that, silent. It was long overdue.

...

..

.

..

...

After a moment, Sniper dragged himself across the wall to lean against the door frame. Just as battered as Scout. Clutching a wound on his side. Knife in one hand. Glasses completely twisted and broken on his face and one lens missing entirely. He stood there, watching quietly, before clearing his throat loudly. "Yeah, don't worry, I'm okay too. Just in case anyone might've been wonderin'."

[haro-hawayu]

CCS: Clear Card Ch. 80

FINAL CHAPTER! I actually read this the day it came out, but didn't get to finish this post and it was sitting in my drafts for a few days TuT. This chapter can be found on CLAMP-net’s YouTube Channel. As always, please check out @meimi-haneoka's post on the latest chapter for EN-JPN translation differences!!

Links for previous chapter reactions can be found here.

Reading Reactions:

And for our final chapter, our wonderful protagonist/heroine, Sakura

Whoaaa, so did Sakura split the books in order to better hide them?

Fujitaka-papa so kind.

I also can't help but made me think of Yuuko's shop...

Eriol and Sakura keeping us readers up to speed on what's happened XD

WHERE IS MOMO???

Awww Flight is still there!!

UM, THE KEYS?? MORE TRC REFERENCES???

Touya is the same as ever haha~always teasing, but always so kind

Lol, love that we can see Kero-chan and Touya being in the same scene even when things are back to "daily life" things

SYAORAN

SYAOSAKU ARE SO CUTE GAHHH

I really love how Yukito's bonding with Nakuru and Spinel~

AKIHO TuT

I'm sad that she's transferring, but at the same time, am happy that she's happy.

WHAAA STOPPED TIME!! STOPPED TIME?!!

I wonder if one of the major factors of Eriol deciding to help them stemmed from Clow & Yuuko stuff... oof, not the TRC/Holic feels again

Yes, KEEP TALKING KAITO! So many overdued words!!

asdfjsldjfj REAL NAME REVELATION!

I'm SO HAPPY THAT THEY'RE TALKING!!! TUT

Annnnd they're still keeping a space for her (i.e. Eriol buying the house so Akiho's stuff remains, Akiho's room remaining as is in the Kinomoto home), even tho she's leaving, she has a place with the people she's leaving behind, a place to return to

Awww it's cute that the boys are talking ahahah--they can actually be friends!! They even exchanged numbers!!

asdfjslajlk AKIHO HAS A REAL NAME TOO

It makes so much sense too!! TuT

THE END (????)

~~

Wow, just wow.

I'm sad that we didn't get to see Momo returning... I'm hoping that the special chapter that's coming out next year will address this... is it too much to ask???

For the most part, I am satisfied with this ending. There are some hinted tie-ins with TRC (the tattoo, the wand), prob a bit more than I expected, so I wonder if TRC will uhhh get a little jumpstart, or if we can see what's been going on over at the other side of things... Clear Card arc's end leaves things very hopeful. Even though the way they talked about how Kaito's time being "stopped" makes me think about Yuuko, there seems to be so much more hope that Akiho & Kaito will be able to find a solution to this, whereas with Yuuko, there seemed to be so much regret and problems as a result.

Speaking of Akiho & Kaito (I'll still call them as such LOL, their true names can be just for the ones they shared with... like how TRC SyaoSaku will always be SyaoSaku to me even after their name revelation), I'm glad they were able to have that talk in the end. With Kaito apologizing for his actions, and knowing WHAT he did wrong. As sad as I feel about the two of them leaving their friends, the fact that they will be together makes me feel very happy. I found it so cute at the end where Akiho shares her true name with Sakura and not Kaito yet bc she's still a bit upset with him XD oh Akiho~

This is so surreal because back then, it felt like such a far-fetched dream for there to be a CCS sequel. I still remember when TRC was FIRST announced ~2003 (wow 20 yrs ago), I thought it was a sequel since it's featuring Syaoran and Sakura. And when it was addressed that it's not the SAME two, I was hoping we will at least find out what happens after end of CCS bc of CLAMPverse (what I called CLAMP's version of multiverse). Seeing an ACTUAL CCS sequel just made me so so happy (although a part of me feared: but at what cost??!!--I think this was slight TRC/Holic trauma speaking). There definitely were some dark moments, especially involving Akiho, but I'm glad it had a good end. The anime adaptation was great as well, so I really look forward to the continuation.

CCS was the first anime series that I watched (USA dub) that got me into anime; in fact, it's still my favorite anime series of all time! But I was a very immature fan back then and it's kinda embarassing to admit LOL. I used to really dislike Meiling back then and wondered why they had to create her at all when I found out she was anime-only character (I saw her as a threat to SyaoSaku relationship). I also did not like the idea of Eriol x Kaho because I liked Eriol x Tomoyo more (ET still has a very special place in my heart... being one of my earliest uhh... fanon ships)... it was also to the point that I kinda disliked Kaho, until I rewatched CCS series in it's entirety. I love both Meiling and Kaho A LOT now btw. But gosh, I was such a silly child then... cuz I literally was XD I guess my point is that I'm glad that as an older fan, I am still able to follow Sakura's journey and the "essence" of the series/characters has not changed even after all this time.

Until next time~

[howaboutcastiel]

That One Angsty Fic (Moon Boys)

Summary: It doesn’t always make sense, but some days are just bad ones. Sometimes you’re your own worst enemy, and it takes losing a battle with yourself to see that. Marc, Steven, and Jake are able to see it, even if you can’t at first. 

Author’s Note: This fic was originally supposed to end differently. Writing it was therapeutic for me, and the ending was also supposed to be, but revelations in therapy and changes in medications have made things different. Just… it exists. 

Content Warning: ⚠️ Mental illness, sensory overload, anxiety and panic attacks, self harm ideation, self harm (cutting), suicidal language/suggestiveness, kinda graphic depiction. Other stuff I don’t know how to tag, just generally take caution. Hopeful ending. 

Word Count 7.3k

Sometimes rabbit holes are hard to climb out of.

Sitting at your desk alone, waiting for your boys to come home, it was easy to dig yourself deeper. The cars on the street below you were too loud. The overhead lights were too bright and the draft from the windows was far too strong. The inclination to sink into your own thoughts was hard to resist, especially since you didn’t realize you were doing it.

Today really fucking sucks. I feel like I can’t do anything. I can’t eat right, I can’t sleep right, and I certainly can’t do my schoolwork correctly. I’m overdue on returning a library book and I haven’t scheduled that very important meeting with my advising professor. Everything is working out and my life is going dandy right now, but holy fucking shit do I feel like a massive failure.

They always say to reach out for help. The professionals say “you have people who love you, they want you to come to them.” God if that isn’t further from the truth. Sure, my mom told me she was proud of me yesterday, even after I told her I can’t graduate with honors like I planned to do. Sure, my friends tell me all the time that I’m funny and smart, but they’re just being nice to me. They don’t like making fun of people. Maybe my grandma cried the other day over the phone because I’m the only grandchild who calls to ask how she’s doing, but I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do.

I’m the bare minimum. I feel like I'm at the bottom of the barrel. I’ll never live up to my potential or to the expectations of the people that I love.

I don’t even think that I’m enough for Steven anymore.

If I’m not enough for him, then I really have nothing at all, don’t I? There’s no question either, if I’m too much of a fuck up for him, I’m certainly not good enough for Marc or even Jake. Hell, the way I’m performing right now, Jake Lockley probably wouldn’t even give me the time of day.

Rabbit holes are hard to climb out of, especially when you’re alone.

There wasn’t anything in particular that made today worse than any of the others. By some metrics, in fact, it was a very good day. You had gotten an A on your midterm exam. You’d found a twenty-dollar bill inside of your coat pocket. Hell, someone had even left your favorite dessert in the break room, and you’d gotten to eat a serving of it between class and work. It should have been a good day, but it just wasn’t.

That’s the thing that people don’t understand about being ill. It’s just that: an illness. It doesn’t matter how much you eat healthy, or how much you exercise. It doesn’t matter how much meditation you do or how much you write in your diary or how much you pray to God—sometimes a day is just going to suck. It’s not rational, or even understandable, but that’s the truth of the matter. Sometimes sick people just… feel sick.

Steven understood that. So did Marc, and so did Jake. If there was anything in this world that they did understand, it’s that sometimes a person can be their own worst enemy. They understood that it wasn’t your fault, and they understood that some days were harder than others. The compassion that you couldn’t have for yourself? Well, they somehow always managed to have it.

You were convinced, though, that they wouldn’t have it today.

This has to be the final straw for them, doesn’t it? They’re going to come home and the dishes won’t be done, the laundry will still be dirty, and there won’t even be dinner on the table for them to eat. I’m going to have to tell them I don’t have a reason for it. I didn’t get it done only because I’m lazy and the lights were too bright. They’re going to laugh at me. They’re going to hate me.

Steven Grant is going to hate me.

I think maybe that’s what I deserve. He's so much more than me, isn’t he? They all are. They’ve been through so much, and yet they’re so strong and so wise. Steven is so kind. But look at me. I’m not… any of those things, am I? I’m all the wrong things. Too big, too awkward, too stupid. I’m not enough for him. I’m not enough for any of them, and I think maybe today they’re going to realize that. I don’t know if I can handle that.

It was half-past seven now. Steven would be coming home from his shift any moment. Or someone would. Whoever was fronting tonight didn’t really matter. It was all going to end the same way, you were convinced. You moved from the desk, tired of the weight on your back, and curled yourself up on the floor of the study. It wasn’t exactly a screaming and crying kind of panic, but it was still panic.

Why can’t I just do more? Why can’t I get up and get all of these chores done, right here and right now? Nothing’s stopping me. I know exactly what to do, I’ve done all of this a million times or more. It’s the easiest thing in the world to do. Why can’t I just get up and do it?

It wasn’t just that, though. How much easier it would have been if it was, but it wasn’t.

Why can’t I do anything right? I can’t even be sad right. Why can’t I cry? Maybe they would understand if I was crying. God, what if they yell at me? I don’t know what to do if they yell at me. Please don’t yell at me. Just get up and do the damn chores. Just do something. Do something.

They’re going to yell at me.

This is all so pathetic. I’m being dramatic, but I don’t know what else to do. I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. I feel like I’m ready to explode or implode or just wither away. I feel like I shouldn’t be feeling like this. I can’t stop it, though, and it makes me feel like I’m insane. I feel like I’m out of control. I want to feel in control. I want to be in control.

I want to be in control. How do I take back control?

You heard the familiar footsteps coming down the hall, instinctively curling in on yourself a little bit more. You had memorized the sound and usually it brought you a warm and welcoming feeling. Today, though, it only made your pounding heart sink deeper into your chest. You braced yourself resignedly for the yelling and anger, or at the very least for the disappointment. Honestly, you didn’t know which one of them was worse.

It was Marc Spector who walked through the front door of the apartment. Admittedly, you couldn’t tell that he was at the front just by his body language, but luckily the boys were used to announcing themselves as they came through the door. It made things easier, and they knew that it comforted you.

“Hey, baby,” he started, the keys clinking in his hands as the door latched shut behind him. He was the only one who called you that. “I didn’t mean to be so late, but we got distracted on the walk home. Why’re you sitting in the dark? Are you here?”

You didn’t have the energy to answer him. Well, you had the energy, but you didn’t have the confidence. That, and you couldn’t really find your voice under all of the panic. Your tongue was too heavy in your mouth, and you were nauseous. You feared if you opened your mouth, it wouldn’t be words that came spilling out. Marc ventured further inside and finally spotted you, hugging your knees in the space between the desk and the wardrobe. He tilted his head and widened his eyes in concern, and you could feel the heat on your face.

“You okay?” He furrowed his brows when you didn’t answer him. You could only look up at him, breathing slowly around the lump in your throat, and you wanted to bury your head right back into your knees when you saw the look on his face. Of course he was going to be concerned, and you were going to have to tell him he had no reason to be. It didn’t make sense for it to be so difficult, though. Why couldn’t you just make yourself speak up? It was the simplest thing.

“Did something happen?” His voice was low and little, and you managed to shake your head at his question. Some other feeling was fighting the paralysis now that he was here, but it wasn’t a good feeling. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes. “No? Well, are you hurt?”

Again, you shook your head. It was technically true, right? You weren’t hurt. You couldn’t really even pinpoint what was wrong with you. He pressed his lips into a thin line, surveying your body for any signs of damage. He found none, so Marc brought his hand up to touch your arm and you instinctively cowered away. You felt guilty as soon as you did it, but you couldn’t bear the thought of the pressure on your skin.

“I don’t know how to help, baby.”

That was what made the tears start to slowly stream. You didn’t feel the need to sob or choke, just to press your nose between your knees and hide your face from him as it contorted into a crying mess. For him to understand, you knew that you had to say something. It was just so hard to get anything out.

“I didn’t do the dishes,” you mumbled. Your admittance confused him and he moved to sit down across from you. You fought back a sob that tried to erupt from your throat. Hearing it out loud, you could understand how your words didn’t quite clear things up for him. “I didn’t do the laundry, either, and I haven’t made dinner.”

“Okay?” He almost laughed, but he could see anguish that you were in, so he stifled it. Marc waited for you to explain yourself further. It became clear you were having trouble with that, so he began to think meticulously through his answer.

“I’m sorry.” A sob broke around your words, but they were still unmistakable. His face twisted again into confusion and something that looked like offense. You hoped it wasn’t that.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked. That was a hard question for you to answer.

“I should have done it by now. I should have finished it all. You should be able to come home to a clean apartment and a warm meal, and I said that I would do it. I should have done it.”

The self-inflicted misogyny aside, he was shocked by your statement. Marc understood the mindset of having to please your housemates. When he was a child, skipping his chores meant more than just a few words of disappointment from his mom. But this wasn’t that. Marc had never, never yelled at you before, and he certainly didn’t expect you to do all of his housework for him. You were partners. You shared the responsibility.

“Honey, they’re just chores,” he tried to explain. He couldn’t imagine exactly where you were coming from, but he’d talked you down from enough panic attacks to at least know where he should start. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal, and we can order take-out for dinner.”

You felt stupid. He wasn’t even mad, and you’d made such a big deal out of all of it. Of course he wasn’t going to yell at you. Marc would never yell at you. None of them would. You should feel relieved now, right? But you didn’t feel relieved. You just felt stupid.

“You with me?” He peered into your eyes with nothing but genuine softness. You couldn’t resist that look, not even in the state you were in. So, you pretended for him.

You nodded.

“Good. Come on, let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Marc took your hands into his and helped you to your feet. Your limbs were stiff from sitting like that, and your chest was heavy from all of the worry. He gently led you over to the couch, coaxing you to sit down and pulling a throw blanket from the shelf under the coffee table. You shuddered as he opened it and tossed it over you. He noticed that you were shaking.

“I’m gonna order dinner, okay? You need to eat something.” Marc moved to pull his phone out of his coat pocket. You didn’t really feel hungry, more nausea than anything filling your gut right now. “I think that you’ll feel better after that.”

You put on a brave, numb face for the rest of the evening. Well, for the next little while, at least. Marc ordered one of your favorite meals for dinner, making sure to buy so much that you would have leftovers. He wasn’t too great of a cook himself, so he was used to ordering out after a long or busy day. When the food finally came, you nibbled at it just enough to prove to him that you were trying. It tasted pretty good, but you couldn’t be sure you would keep it down, and the thought of swallowing just made you shudder some more.

After a while, Marc had decided that you looked calm enough. He let Steven take control of the body once he finished his meal, the tiring day having weighed on him, too. He made sure to warn his alter to keep tabs on you, noting how you seemed to be having a particularly rough day. Steven had no problem with that, as he was more than happy to give you his attention no matter the circumstances.

He didn’t exactly know what he was getting himself into.

When dinner was done and you’d convinced Steven that you really couldn’t eat any more, he packaged the rest of your food in heat-safe boxes. He also did the dishes, which he meant as a gesture of affection. Steven didn’t realize that his simple act of service would send you farther down the spiral.

Now you felt guilty. Not only had you failed to do the housework you’d promised you would, but now he was picking up your slack. To you, that was just unacceptable. I’m so much more trouble than I’m worth, you thought. Maybe they were just dishes, but they felt like so much more than that to you. They were a symbol of your failure, a symbol of all of the good things that he was and the bad things that you were, and why you could never be deserving of him.

The familiar urge started to bubble in your chest. You knew you should have said something the minute you felt it, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to, not in the middle of the spiral that you’d already begun. It always started as a spike of energy, an ironically paralyzing energy, and a buzzing in your skin. From there, it would grow and evolve and mutate into something else. It was an urge to self-destruct, to punish yourself and gain control. It didn’t make any sense, not in the slightest, and it surely didn’t make sense now, but such was the nature of being ill.

It didn’t have to make sense. It just had to be.

You felt the heat draining from your body as you watched him pass the plates from the sink to the drying rack. The shivering was only beginning, and you knew already that nothing would help you get warm. Not a blanket, not a hug, not a piping hot cup of tea. This was the kind of chill that ran further than skin-deep. The sensation grew outward from your chest. It made you want to press your palms into your eyes and scratch at your skin until it was raw. A lump was starting to thicken in your throat, your saliva becoming too thick to swallow.

I can’t believe I’m letting them baby me like this. I should be taking care of him, not the other way around. They must be so tired of coddling me like this. I wonder if they think I’m too sensitive. They must think that. I am too sensitive. It’s a matter of time before they get enough of it and kick me to the curb. It must be. I just wish I could stop. I have to stop.

Steven was turned away from you, intently focused on the task at hand. He didn’t notice how you had gone pale. He had a chore to complete. He wasn’t one to leave a dish half-washed, so he had to meticulously scrub each plate until he was sure it was clean.

He’s even better than me at this. What else do I have to offer him?

You pulled yourself up from your seat at the table, making sure to drag the legs of the chair against the wood just enough to alert him to the movement. You shuffled over to the couch as he finished up at the sink. When you clicked the power button on the TV remote, it flashed on to reveal some old sitcom you weren’t interested in seeing. It would look normal, though, when Steven dried his hands and emerged from the kitchen to join you. He would think that you were okay, and that was a good thing. You didn’t want him to think that you weren’t okay.

“Can I join?” Steven meekly asked as you scuffled to one side of the couch to make room for him. He was wearing a soft expression that made you feel like he saw you as fragile. He looked away from you as he sat down. “I think I might stay up a bit tonight. I want to read this new book I got about Neferefre.”

“What is that?” You prompted him, knowing you were opening the conversation to a classic Steven Grant infodump. If you looked interested and you got him to start talking, he wouldn’t even notice how much of a mess you’d been today—and how much of a mess you were now.

Steven began his little spiel. The man he spoke of was apparently one of the pharaohs of Egypt, a prince who ascended to the throne and died young. You watched his face light up as he told you about the man. It wasn’t uncommon of him to lose himself entirely in his little stories about ancient Egyptian history. He would speak for hours if you let him, which was a relief, because you certainly didn’t know how to fill any gaps of silence. Steven’s eyes widened and glistened as he went on, touting knowledge to you that would impress even the most prestigious academics of the subject. 

His smile was such a pure and innocent thing. Steven was proud of himself, as he very well should have been, and he was happy that someone was here for him to share his knowledge with. It put into perspective for you just how much you didn’t compare. He was a living, breathing encyclopedia. A life-long researcher who would pour his heart and soul into the subjects he loved. In contrast, you were just going through the motions. You had reached your last semester of your undergrad, but you had no passion at all for your major anymore. Maybe you would get some fancy latin honor at your graduation, but you were by no means a good student, and you sure as hell weren’t an expert on the subject. 

Why can’t I just stop myself from spiraling? Why can’t I just be someone that he deserves?

It was getting to the point where you were afraid that the feeling in your chest was going to start boiling over. Your skin was on fire and you were covered in a thin layer of icy sweat that did nothing to calm you. You wanted to curl into a ball and rip out your hair. You wanted to rock yourself back and forth with your head between your knees, and you wanted most of all to take yourself apart piece by delicate piece. 

The urge was almost overwhelming. You had managed to hide this part of yourself from them for your entire relationship up to this point. Marc had his suspicions about your behavior in the past and Steven had noticed your sensitivity and lapses in communication, but neither of them had ever been there with you when you had an episode of self harm. You’d been in recovery when you first started dating them, and you’d only broken your clean streaks on occasions where they weren’t around. They didn’t really know what to look for and they didn’t know how close to the edge you really were. 

You were very, very close to it. 

Steven blinked at you confusedly. He’d asked you a question, apparently, and you’d failed to hear it over the pounding thud of your heartbeat inside of your ears. There was no denying that you’d spaced out while talking to him, no pretending your mind wasn’t clearly somewhere far away from here. He raised his eyebrows at you as you widen your gaze and pressed your lips together, pulling yourself back to him. 

“Sorry, I just have had a long day, love,” you tried to deflect his unyielding inclination to peer into you. Steven Grant was a caregiver, an innate protector of those who were mentally vulnerable, and you certainly fit that category right now, but you would be damned if you let him baby you. Or, god forbid, worry about you. “I wanted to hear about your Pharoah guy, but I think I’m too tired to take it all in.”

You hoped he would ignore the fact that, despite your words, you seemed to be vibrating with nervous energy. The last thing you’d ever want to do was make Steven worry. You hoped to God that he couldn’t see the panic rising within you, stirring up the familiar frenzy in your limbs and enticing you to have a rendezvous with your razor in the bathroom. 

He scooped you into his arms, pressing around you with a calming strength that almost touched the chill underneath your skin. Your body was half-limp as Steven encased you in a sturdy hug. He nuzzled his face into your neck and he breathed you in with an exhausted sigh. 

“It’s alright. I’ll talk about him later.” Steven hummed into your skin, no doubt just as tired as Marc had been. “I’m sorry about your long day. It’s okay now, though. You can just relax with me.”

Guilty. Stupid. 

“Okay. Thank you, baby.” You swallowed hard and dipped your head into his chest. Steven’s grip around you was strong, but casual. To him, as far as you could tell, you appeared to be doing just fine. A little tired, a little shaky, but overall just fine. That was a good thing, right? You were glad to not be worrying him. But some primal part of you was screaming to tell him you needed his help. You suppressed that part—it was bound to make things worse for you both. 

There was silence for a little while. The television droned on, drawing small, breathy laughs from Steven and smiles from you in response to his laughs. The beating of his heart against your ear served to chip slowly away at your unease, dampening the pounding in your head. The pressure in your chest released bit by bit. The unspeakable urge fizzled out from your hands just a little. You finally were starting to feel like you could breathe normally, when a stray thought drew Steven away from the telly. 

“When you did laundry today,” the words shot hot iron spikes through your ribcage. You froze in place, “did you happen to see my green button-up? The one with the stripes. I was going to wear it tomorrow to the museum holiday party, but I couldn’t find it when I looked this morning.”

How could you respond to him? You’d have to tell him it wouldn’t be clean in time for the party. You hadn’t washed it. You had not even touched the laundry today, in fact. You’d come home from work a few hours ago and plopped right down at your desk, wasting the evening away instead of doing the chores that you’d promised. 

“I’m sorry,” you began. His lips turned downward into a puzzled grimace. “The laundry isn’t done. I don’t know if your shirt is in there, but if it is, it’s not clean. You won’t be able to wear it tomorrow.”

“Oh.” His face remained as puzzled as it was, now tinged with disappointment as well. You couldn’t live with his disapproval, no matter how much your body and mind seemed incapable of performing correctly. 

“But I can go wash it right now! It will be ready by morning if I start a load—”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it, darling. It’s late, and it’s just a shirt. I can wear something else to the party. God knows Donna won’t appreciate the effort I put into my outfit anyway.” He bore an uneven smile and grazed the back of your neck with his hand, pushing your head back down to rest on his chest. 

The coil around your heart re-tightened. 

You laid in his arms as long as you could manage to sit still. Soon enough, the shaking of your bones and the pounding in your chest was so strong that it would be noticeable if you continued to sit in his grasp. So, with a shy cough and a fake, lopsided smile, you excused yourself to the bathroom. 

Stupid. 

Stupid. Stupid! Stupid! You couldn’t believe the way you were behaving. Why couldn’t you just be normal for one single day? Why did you have to worry your boys, why did you have to be so miserable, and why did your heart still threaten to beat right out of your chest even though Steven had held you in his arms and told you everything was okay? Stupid. So fucking stupid and pathetic and whiny and stupid. 

You could feel the ice trickling down your spine, sinking into the curves of your ribs and clenching your muscles tense. The heat of your anger—at yourself and at the world, but mostly at yourself—did nothing to warm the deep chill in your bones. 

Be fucking useful for once. 

The sound of the electricity was too loud, the light coming under the door too bright. You banged your open palms against your head, curling them into fists and pounding harder when the noise only grew more irritating. Your breathing was rapid and empty, silent tears streamed down your face. Your knuckles drummed against your skull forcefully, over and over and over again, until the action was automatic and numb. 

Stop being a burden. Stop being stupid. Steven has been through more shit than you ever will have gone through. You’re a useless fucking partner to him. Stop wasting space. 

The dull knocking against your head wasn’t nearly enough. The seething inside your bones demanded something more. Something urgent and strong. You grew tired of the motion and lowered your hands, leaning into the dizzying soreness at the sides of your scalp. Your heart began to calm, unbeknownst to the agony in the rest of your body. 

Stop wasting space. 

You clutched the vanity. Your now-raw knuckles were white and the room was spinning. Maybe if you’d eaten more, you’d feel the need to throw up. 

Stop taking up space. 

The way that your hand rose to the medicine cabinet made you feel like an observer inside your own skin. For a passing, ever-so tiny moment, you wondered if this was what Jake felt. What Marc felt. Was this what Steven Grant felt when he wasn’t in control?

No, surely not. This was you taking control. 

You weren’t one to show yourself mercy. Even in something like this, where mercy was a severely relative term. The thoughtful thing to have done would have been to grab your razor from the shelf, or taken one of Steven’s replacement razors from the pack beside the mouthwash. A sharp, unyielding weapon for a clean, quick punishment. You didn’t want to cut yourself open, though. That would be too generous, too easy. 

You didn’t want something smooth, something to leave  pretty and even stripes in delicate skin, like guiding lines on an empty notebook sheet. No, you didn’t want to cut yourself deep. This was visceral, personal. You wanted to rip yourself apart. 

From the top shelf, you grabbed the old and rusty scissors that you had left in the bathroom for your spur-of-the-moment haircuts and for cutting tags off of new clothes. They were dull and awkward and hardly able to cut warm butter at this point, which is exactly what you were going for. 

Stop. Being. Stupid. 

You didn’t know if it made you feel better or made you feel worse, but it made you feel. Digging the blade into your skin, jabbing the open edge into your thigh after pulling parallel strokes on your forearms, it made you feel more in-control than you had all day. It was intoxicating. It was all-consuming. Before you knew it, you had fallen into a trance of sorts and the repetition was only halted by the realization that you had to breathe eventually. 

A sharp breath in. Pain. A slow, shaky exhale. Stupid. A stifled cough, a desperate sucking in of air. Useless. A wheezing huff, like a deflating balloon. 

Tired. 

The blade slipped away from your hand and clattered unenthusiastically onto the floor. There wasn’t nearly as much blood as there could have been. Your teeth chattered, and now, despite having barely grazed dinner, you feared that you might up-chuck. A low groan tumbled out of your lungs as you crouched over the toilet bowl, thick red streams trickling down to the creases of your skin. You heaved once, then twice, then the vague remnants of your dinner were out of your stomach and the pressure against your chest forced a cry from your lips. 

You sighed, flushed, and slumped into a weak puddle on the tile. There was a knock at the door. 

“Darling?”

No. No. No no no nononono. What did I do? Your mind was racing and your heart had re-started its blunt assault on the inside of your ribs, but your limbs were like jello. Your tongue was like sand. He can’t see me like this! 

“You sound like you’re sick. Was it the dinner, love? Let me hold your hair back, at least.”

He can’t see me like this. I can’t do that to him. But you couldn’t move, either. You could barely keep your eyes open. You tried to yell at him to go away, but your lungs were too heavy to muster more than a hoarse whisper. That was if you could even get your lips to part. 

Guilty. 

You could hear Steven’s breath rattle on the other side of the door. “You’re worrying me. I’m going to open the door now, yeah? Don’t mean to pry, of course, but sure as I don’t, you’ll have hit your head on the sink or something and be out cold—”

He’d turned the knob on the bathroom door—the stupid old thing never did lock correctly, you’d been meaning to get that fixed—and pushed his way inside, only to stop dead in his tracks the moment he saw you. 

Your pale and shaking hands clenched your knees, blood lazily tricking into your elbow’s crease and tapping the floor in a steady drip. It wasn’t nearly an amount of blood loss to be worried about, but that didn’t matter to him. There was blood dripping onto the floor, and it was coming from you. Steven’s color drained from his face as he watched the forming puddle for a moment. He didn’t move, his eyes wide and his mouth agape, and his hand still lingering on the doorknob. After a few seconds, he gathered a shaky breath and broke his gaze away. 

“What happened?” 

His voice was whining, panicky. You could see sweat beading on his forehead as he knelt across from you. He trailed his hand up your arm, looking for the incisions that were causing the flow. His fingers were careful not to touch the long, parallel slits that ran up toward your wrists. You heard a breathless whimper leave his lips as he pulled your arms up, revealing the jagged, shallow puncture wounds in your thighs that looked just as bad. 

“Darling, what happened?” He was more urgent now, his voice louder and demanding. “Are you hearing me?”

He grabbed the nearest towel from the shelf under the sink, wrapping it around the wrist closest to him and pressing the other one underneath. Steven’s breathing was shallow and his eyes danced rapidly between your forearms, your thighs, and your face. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your eyes focused on him. It was all that you could do to keep them open at all. He continued pleading with you, but his voice was distant in your head. 

Tired. 

“What have you done?” You didn’t know if his intention was for you to answer. “Why did you—what did you do to yourself? I don’t understand. I don’t… I don’t…” 

His breath was quickening. You tried to pull your head together, to ignore the pounding in your skull and force your eyes to work. Weakly, you wiggled your fingers. If they could move, perhaps the rest of you could as well. Your tongue was as heavy as lead in your mouth, but you forced it up anyway. The wheezing breath you drew caught his attention immediately. 

“I’m sorry.” The tears that had welled in his eyes began spilling over, painting his cheeks as he tried desperately to blink them out of the way. Steven wrung a towel under the sink as you drew another gasp. “You weren’t supposed to see.”

“Why?” He scoffed and you shook your head. The dull thump in your head was winning out. Words were failing you. Apparently they were failing him to, as he couldn’t muster much more than “I don’t understand.”

You had done this enough to know it would take a few minutes for the bleeding to stop. Nothing was deep enough for stitches, though the divots on your legs would threaten to scar for sure. Steven grew more distressed, though, as the seconds ticked forward and the wounds refused to wipe clean. Firm and steady pressure seemed to be too slow a solution and panic was painted plainly on his face. 

You felt the need to explain to him. You had to make him understand. 

“I had to do it.” He held his breath as you began to speak. Steven looked terrified. “I deserve this. It feels… right. I had to. I had to.”

“No, you didn’t,” he insisted. “You don’t deserve this. Why would you deserve this? Is it because of the laundry? You can’t have done this because of a load of clothes…”

“Not the laundry,” You breathed, interjecting. “It’s everything. I’m not good enough. I can’t do anything right. I’m a waste of space. I have to stop taking up space. Your space.”

“You're not.” He uttered immediately. Steven seemed to be choking on his next words. He stared at the blood soaking through your bandages. “You’re not… you’re…”

He pressed his eyes shut and your voice was loud in your head as you let your own heavy eyelids flutter closed. He’s finally getting it, isn’t he? I’m no good for him. This is the final straw. 

More trouble than I’m worth. 

Stop wasting space. 

You resigned yourself to the damage you’d done to him. The three of them were better off without you here. You’d leave them alone now. They’d kick you out and you’d move back in with your mother. At least she was used to being disappointed by you. You could handle her disdain, but not theirs. 

So fucking tired. 

“You’re not a waste of space.” His voice broke you away from the deep crevice in your mind that you’d sank into. “Mi Tesoro, how could you ever think that about yourself? You are plenty good enough.”

Jake unwrapped the wounds that Steven had dressed so haphazardly. If medical training was a contest between the three of them, Steven was certainly in line for the bronze, while Jake could perform surgery with kitchen utensils if prompted to. They had finally stopped bleeding, but the cuts needed a layer of antibiotics if they had any chance of healing right. Especially considering the rust on that gross pair of scissors.

“I scared him.” You didn’t need to elaborate. The absolute mess that you’d made of yourself had thrown Steven into a panic, sending him so far back in the headspace that Jake Lockley was forced to come out to take the reins. 

“Yes, you did. But he’ll be alright.” Jake’s voice was steady and smooth, and he was finished with your bandages before you even realized it. “You’ll be alright, too. Just try not to mess with these.”

“You’re never going to look at me the same. Any of you.”

“Maybe that’s true,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t matter. You can’t scare us away that easily.”

He lifted you by your shoulders, helping you stand against the bathroom wall. The floor was riddled with blood and towels and bandages, and your shirt and pants were far from clean. Jake was careful not to put pressure on your wounds as he supported your weight. You started toward the living room. 

“I would guess that you’ve done this before.” He guided you step by step to the couch. You say gently against the cushion, curling back into a ball as your eyelids gave up altogether on staying open. “But not since I’ve met you. Why did you start this again tonight?”

“I deserved it,” you repeated. There was no other way to explain it, or rather, no explanation you had the energy for. “I needed it.”

“We’re going to talk about this later.” He knew that you didn’t have the energy for a conversation right now. That didn’t mean that he’d save his ultimatum, though. Just because you couldn’t talk didn’t mean he couldn’t. He placed a blanket over you, leaving for a few moments to grab some water and painkillers. Plus, a package of crackers that he would force you to nibble on later. 

“You didn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve it. There’s nothing you could ever do to make you worthy of something like that. I can’t speak for the other two, but I’ve never met someone so loving, so wonderful. Eres la mejor persona que he conocido. There’s nothing you’d ever do to make you deserve that.”

Silent tears slipped down your face as he continued, and his voice wavered as he spoke. You assumed, though your eyes wouldn’t open, that we was fighting tears as well. 

“You really scared us, but we’re not angry at you. We’re not scared of you. We just can’t bear to see you hurt yourself. You know that you can’t be in pain without us hurting, too. We’re scared because we don’t know how to help. You have to tell us what’s wrong, so we can make sure you don’t hurt anymore.”

“But I need to.” I need to hurt. How else am I going to stay in control?

“No, chica, you don’t.” The cushion shifted underneath you, indicating that he’d sat down beside you. “You need help. Not this. Nothing good comes from this. We don’t want to see you like this. Not ever again.”

How else am I supposed to stay in control?

“Please promise me you’ll talk to me about this, alright? I want to hear all of it. I want to know why this is happening.”

“I don’t want to bother you.” Sleep was weighing on you by now. Thoughts drifted out of your lips without restraint, but they threatened to cease altogether as your limbs grew heavy. 

“You won’t bother me. This bothers me. Nothing that you could say would bother me. I want to hear about everything. Every thought that leads to this, you say it to me first.”

There was a pause that almost let you drift off completely. 

“That goes for the others as well. We all want you to talk to us. No matter when, no matter where. Okay?”

I can’t put this burden on them—

“Promise me!”

You pried your eyes open one last time. Jake’s gaze was pleading and tears were streaming down his face. He looked plenty burdened already. He was right. Nothing could be worse than this. You couldn’t ever hurt them more than this. And now that the urge had come and passed, the dull ache in your arms and the stinging in your thighs was a sore reminder of how little it was worth it. Not to mention the pain in your head. 

“I promise.”

Sometimes, when you say something out loud, you realize how ridiculous it sounds. It helps to keep you in check, and it keeps you from being your own worst enemy. If nothing else, it gives you perspective and keeps you from forgetting your voice. And before you ask, no. I’m not okay, but I am in therapy and on medication. Take it or leave it.

p.s. I started this fic obviously in a bad mood, and then I wrote most of it when I was no longer in a bad mood. For that reason, it may be gibberish. Don’t think of the reader as yourself. That’s probably unhealthy. Thank you to my beta readers, @moonmoonboys and @rmoonstoner

[lavenderbexlatte]

shameless ch 3: careless

stray kids 5.1k words female reader insert Reader x Lee Felix NSFW

🖤 warnings: realistic idol!au, questionable power dynamics, idol/fan interactions, unresolved tension, deep/mature themes, one very passive-aggressive bang chan, vague dom/sub dynamics, voyeurism, explicit sexual content! 🖤

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🦋 him 🦋

It doesn't look that bad. Not really.

But in hindsight, looking at his camera roll with fresh eyes a few days later, Felix can see why his manager is so angry. It’s not that bad, but it’s bad enough.

He'd been long overdue for a post on the group's Instagram account, according to the detailed and ruthless social media schedule. And with nothing good from official shoots or appearances waiting in the drafts, Felix had given up and taken a selfie on the spot to throw online with a lukewarm caption and a few emojis, to tide the fans over.  

It's second nature of working with social media to check for personal items or unsavory details in the backgrounds of the pictures, and usually there's a manager around to double-check the draft before it goes up. But Felix was so late for his post, and so done with being asked to do it over and over, so he published the post himself. Check it off the list, get it off his mind.

Usually, that's no big deal. But Felix actually really gets why he's in trouble this time.

The photo is gone now, of course. As soon as someone with the proper authority noticed, it was removed.

Because while Felix made sure he didn't leave any dirty laundry or random brand names in the photo, he failed to remember which side of his throat was work-appropriate. The side that's normal. Not the side with a brand-new, deep purple hickey, admittedly satisfying but absolutely not safe for work as an idol, the perfect size and shape of her mouth.

He didn’t even think about it, since they’ve become so commonplace. The hickies.

It's been nearly three months since Felix met her and finally, as winter peaks, things are heating up.

Not that Felix hasn't been enjoying everything so far. Even the casual dates are exciting and amazing and fun. But after that first kiss, the dam broke, and now some of the more intimate perks of a relationship are coming into play. It's been slow progress, but progress nonetheless, and now they're at a place where innocent movie nights become more, and trips out are more frequently being replaced with evenings in.

He's not the first idol to show evidence of being anything but pristinely celibate, but he's definitely the first one in his group, and that spells big, big trouble. The tone of the texts he's been getting from his managers for the past three days says as much.

it's just a bruise. if anyone asks. and they better not fucking ask. you're so lucky dispatch didn't pick this one up and you're never posting anything without supervision again, understand me?

So, yeah. The photo is gone but the trouble's just begun.

Mostly because from that moment on, Felix can't seem to do anything right. People always seem to be watching him when he's at work, as if they're waiting for him to fuck up on the spot, as if she's going to materialize by Felix's side and wreak havoc on their brand reputation if he's left alone for too long.

Today is a day like that. He comes home after a long day of constant supervision at the company only to be grabbed by one of their newer staff managers on his way out of the dorm. The guy is a little younger, a little less sure of himself, and since he's the lowest ranking one on their management staff, he's been deemed the unofficial bearer of bad news, lately. So Felix is less than thrilled to see him, as mean as it sounds.

"Just the guy I was looking for," he says, with an overfriendly grin.

"Yeah, hyung, what's up?" Felix asks dutifully.

"Hyungnim had something he wanted to tell you, but he's busy, so..."

The manager tilts a paper tag toward Felix, and as Felix peers inside, he's met with a flash of pink and a pair of familiar shoes, a toothbrush-

Oh no.

He seems like he's apologizing, but the words are firm. "There's - there's too much stuff, Felix. Here. There's too much stuff here, it doesn't look super great and hyungnim thinks..."

Too much of her stuff, he means. Felix gets it.

"Look, you know what my personal policy is, in general. If I don't see it, it ain't my problem," he says. "But all this stuff? I can see it. Everyone can. And I can't stick up for you if hyungnim or anyone else really has a problem."

Wryly, Felix wonders if one of the guys complained. The managers don't usually make a habit of digging through their bedrooms, probably too afraid of all the stuff they'll find if they go looking, so Felix can't really think of a reason they'd find the spare clothes she'd stashed in his room, the shoes she'd left last time. And if the guys did complain, Felix wonders who it was. It's not like they have any room to talk, not with the stuff that they get up to. It's not like Felix is the only one.

But what Felix says to their manager is, "No, hyung, I get it. I'll...give the stuff back, I guess, and get it out of the way."

He relaxes, as though he was expecting Felix to put up a fight. "Thanks. Seriously. Just...you know. Out of sight, out of mind, right?"

The manager stares at Felix, a probing gaze that's confusing until Felix realizes he's not-so-subtly trying to get a look at Felix's neck, to see if the infamous hickey is still there. The idea that he might have been tasked to do that, as well, makes Felix irrationally annoyed.

It's been days. It's mostly gone, faded to a pale yellow, but it is there, and Felix slaps a hand over the mark peevishly. The manager seems to realize he's been caught, flushing before he gives the paper bag to Felix.

"Thanks," he says again, "Have a good night, Felix."

"Yeah."

None of their staff trust him and he's being watched all the time like some kind of flight risk. Felix thinks it's gonna be pretty hard to have a good night.

-----

Days later, enough days that the run-in with their manager has faded a bit but not long enough that it doesn't still sting, Felix gets yet another undesired wake-up call. A message drops down over the video that Felix is watching, lounging in bed, and the preview makes him pause it in concern.

Minho doesn't text Felix outside of the groupchat or the dance line groupchat very often, so when he does, Felix pays attention.

This message is only one line long, only a few words.

vlive now, sorry in advance

Minho also doesn't apologize often, especially not preemptively. Something must really be going on, then.

So Felix dutifully opens V Live, finds their channel, and unsurprisingly seeing as it's a Sunday evening without anything on the schedule, gets the notif that Chan is live. Apprehensive, Felix clicks onto the stream, laying on his back on his bed and holding the phone up over himself.

The video stream loads, and Felix tries not to look at how many other people are watching.

"-I'll keep trying," Chan is saying, grinning sheepish and theatrical into the camera, glancing down to one side. "I mean, every member should only do what's best for the group, right? What's best for Stay?"

For a moment, Felix thinks he's talking badly about himself. They all have their moments, of course. All of the members are only human, and sometimes a public sounding board and the immediate gratification that will come after are just too tempting. It's too easy to ask for validation, and sometimes they do. Chan, specifically, has a talent of acting like he's not even asking, of stating complaints and insecurities like facts and redeeming the compliments just the same.

Felix thinks he's being self-deprecating on live again, and he's halfway through a text telling him to knock it off when Chan continues on.

"I mean...we have to be responsible, all the time. We have all of you to take care of."

Responsible, huh?

"And more than anything, our job is about the team, right?" Chan is saying, and there's a tense tic in his jaw that makes Felix feel just a bit queasy. "Even if - even if you're really popular, even if you're a member that everyone loves, you need to keep a good image."

Chan pauses, scrolling on his phone.

"Yeah, exactly. We always have to make good choices. Never wanna upset anyone, yeah?" Chan mutters. "Make good choices."

Another moment on the phone.

Chan's tone is firmer and icier still when he continues, "All kinds of choices. What we say...what we post online...people see everything, you know? Stay sees everything. We know that. You know that. I would never want a member to do something that upsets Stay, especially not on purpose."

Oh.

"Yeah, I mean - 'who's upsetting Stay?'" Chan reads, "Doesn’t matter. It's not just about that, either, it's about respecting the team dynamic, too."

It's a smooth deference, but the fans are never as easily redirected as anyone wants. When Felix sees his own name begin to fill the comments, he closes the app.

It was vague, but Chan is always vague. It wasn't a direct callout, but Chan rarely ever does that, even in real life. He prefers this route. The parental guilt-trip route. The I'm-not-angry-I'm-just-disappointed route.

Felix is shocked to find himself angry. And he is so, so angry. His grip on his phone is tumultuous because his hands are simply shaking too hard to hold the damn thing. He drops the phone to his chest, and brings his hands down to cover his face.

This is the worst.

This is beyond the worst.

Felix isn't the same as Chan.

That was established a long time ago. It was obvious when Chan was the company's golden boy of nearly a decade and Felix was one grammar mistake away from the threat of being cut from the group permanently. And it's obvious now, when Chan is the one who constantly sexiles Felix and Changbin as he chases a cool girl with a precarious career of her own to protect, but Felix is the one who gets monitored by the company and shit-talked by his own leader on V Live.

Sure, Felix isn't as perfect as Chan, with his flawlessly-hidden nighttime endeavors and golden public image, but he’s doing good enough.

He's trying.

🕷 you 🕷

You seem to have become some kind of magnet for trouble, because all at once, you can’t seem to stop running into the one person you never want to see again.

Per usual on a weekend with nothing else planned, you're on your way to meet Felix. It's annoying that the route to the dorm has a transfer in the middle at a big, busy station, but it's a necessary evil, and you're trucking it through the maze of clothing boutiques and drugstores in perhaps the least comfortable slingback mules you've ever worn.

You've almost made it, too. You're approaching the turnstiles when you see her.

She's already inside the barrier, about to head down the stairs to the platform for trains going the other direction, and you're hoping that you can get past unnoticed since she's so far away. It’s not the first time you’ve seen her in public, and the last time it happened you managed to escape.

But today she looks up, as direct and alert as if you've called out to her, and when she sees you, she pauses. She beams, you can see it right up to her eyes. And she waves to you.

Cool Girl waves at you, and you hesitate as you look at her.

She's wearing the same shirt as you.

The same skirt, too, though yours is black and hers is khaki green, and the padding coat wrapped around her shoulders might even be the same brand.

But she's persistent, waving harder as if maybe you didn't recognize her, and so, chagrined, you wave back. She gives you a little nod, and sets off down the stairs and out of sight.

Felix calls her Cool Girl. You'd asked about her, that first time you'd met at the dorm, and he didn't tell you her name then. You get the feeling that he doesn't know it, but you don't need to know it, either. Cool Girl suits her. You'd always envied girls like her, with that effortless vibe.

That's the vibe you're after.

🦋 him 🦋

It's not the most graceful way Felix has ever asked for something, but it does the trick.

She'd arrived a while ago, in one of those outfits that's now become her usual, the little skirt and the fast-fashion dress shoes and the blouse, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Felix had asked what was wrong, but she had no answer for him, and the wisest thing at that point was to let it go.

Besides, Felix is thinking about something different.

"No one is home," he says.

She makes a face. "Good?"

"No, I mean, like. No one. And they won't be. For a while."

"Sounds like you have a plan," she teases.

"Well, I mean. That depends on a couple things," Felix answers, words a lot more confident than he feels.

He's nervous, of course, but that just means that he needs to rely as much as possible on that charisma he knows he has inside, the stuff that he brings out for shoots and stages. Even if it's just a thin veneer of courage, it'll help.

"Like?"

Like if she's ready to put the empty house to good use.

"Whatever you wanna do tonight," he says, instead.

Her smile is slow-spreading and knowing. "Like I said. It sounds like you have a plan."

"Well," Felix says again, "D'you wanna hang out in my room, this time?"

She's still never been into his bedroom, not even now that so much time has passed. It's one line that hasn't been crossed. They go to her place so much more often, where there aren't any roommates or managers or passive-aggressive leaders to worry about.

And she would usually shoot him down right away, anyway, if he offered the relative privacy of the bedroom, even for innocent things like movie nights without disruptions.

Not this time.

"Sure."

"Yeah?" Felix asks, dumbfounded.

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Okay."

He's the one who asked, and he's the one who really wanted it, but Felix can't help but feel like a schoolboy bringing a crush into his room for the first time. With the added embarrassment of it being a room that he shares with older brothers, no less.

But she comes into the room without hesitating, following him right in and sitting down on his bed when he offers it to her.

"Crowded," she teases, as she takes a look around.

"It's three guys in here, less than ideal," Felix replies.

"At least your bed is freestanding."

She's right about that. The bunk bed set that Chan and Changbin share is hanging on by a thread, already a precarious online-order model before it was put through its paces for several years by two men in their twenties. How Chan manages to have so much sex when he's a grown man who sleeps on the top bunk, Felix will never understand.

"Yeah," Felix says. "I mean, it's still kinda just shoved in here, y'know?"

"I think it's fine," she grins.

As if she knows exactly what Felix has in mind tonight - and let's be real, she probably does - she falls lazily back onto the mattress, spreading her arms out to the sides and stretching out. One person almost fills the twin bed, as it is, but Felix is determined to at least try and fill it up more.

"Comfy?" he asks, grinning.

"Not bad," she answers.

"You look pretty comfy."

She folds her arms behind her head, now. "Kind of lonely, though."

That's a suggestion if Felix has ever heard one. He takes a step forward before his nerve abandons him, and stops just shy of her knees. The angle she's at isn't particularly suggestive, since her feet are still on the ground and her skirt falls daintily to cover everything, but Felix's heart is pounding in his chest.

"What are you scared of?" she asks suddenly.

"I'm not scared."

"Don't lie. You don't need to lie," she shrugs, the motion stifled since she's still laying down. "It's just me."

There's something in her face that captivates him. Intensity in her eyes, a glimmer of something beneath it. She's always demanded all of Felix's attention, the way that she talks, the way that she carries herself, but there's an aura in this moment that's completely different. He kind of feels like he's drowning in it.

He's answering her before he's even thought about it. "Getting caught, for one."

She smiles. "You said everyone's out."

"They are, but c'mon. That would be the worst."

"Wouldn't wanna put on a show?"

"Not this time."

"Is that it?" she asks, shifting a bit.

She parts her legs the slightest bit more, and Felix notices. She notices him noticing, too, if the way her smile curves up even more is any indication.

"Because you said everyone's out. I trust you. If we have some time alone, we might as well use it, huh?"

"I've never done anything in this room before," Felix says.

"No?"

"Not with anyone else."

She laughs. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

"I think it would be...you know. Kind of..."

"Weird?" she suggests, but Felix shakes his head.

"No. Hot."

He needs her to just understand, to just let him live this one time. He doesn't really want to explore why he thinks that, but God, does he. It would be so hot to get to mess around with someone in here, to bring something so contrary to work into this place that work pays for, that work maintains for him.

To this room that he shares with his hyungs.

To this room where at least one of his hyungs-

"Hot, huh?" she repeats, like she's tasting it.

Felix takes that last step forward, and tentatively reaches out. Her legs are spread just enough, on either side of his own, bracketing him as he leans in to rest a palm on each of her thighs.

They've done this much before. They've done quite a bit. But Felix wants...he wants...

"Do you just want to fuck me in your dorm, Felix?"

It's like she's pulling the words right out of his brain and throwing them at him, and it wipes away all rational responses. Felix just gapes at her. He didn't know she could talk like that. That she would. That she would want to. It's fucking good, but it's sent him reeling.

The silence stretches on while Felix tries to plug his brain back in, and in the meantime, she sits up, bringing her face right up close to Felix's where he stands, frozen.

"Maybe that's too big of a question," she pouts. "Okay. Felix, do you want me to kiss you?"

Now that, he can handle. "Yes."

She does, and if she was tasting his earlier confession, she's devouring him now. Her arm thrown over his shoulder, her hand in his hair, guiding his lips against hers like she thinks he wouldn't know what to do without her. Or maybe like she knows it.

"Here?" she continues, hot against his mouth. "Is it that different from doing it at my house?"

"So different," he breathes.

"Why?"

The words pour out. "Because at your house I'm just...Felix. Here, with the rest of the members, at the d-dorm, I'm-"

"You are," she agrees.

Slowly, she lowers herself back to the mattress, bringing him with her. Felix lets himself follow, draping himself over her body as she settles. Even from below him, she looms.

"Do you want me to touch you, Just Felix?" she asks.

"So much."

"Where?"

He's blunt. "Everywhere."

She grins. She dazzles.

She snakes a hand to the hem of his oversized tee, and shucks it over his head before he can even feel self-conscious.

"Is this okay?" she asks.

Felix nods.

She's doing everything, she's setting the pace, but Felix thinks he needs that. The last thing he would want is for her to feel rushed, or stifled, or uncomfortable at all with the ways things are going. Felix wants her so badly he can feel his chest aching, and with no way to see inside her head and make sure she feels the same, the least he can do is let things move the way she wants.

"That's kind of dirty, you know," she says.

"What...what is?"

She shrugs again, petting that free hand down Felix's bare chest. "Wanting to fuck in here. You share this room. Kind of naughty."

Her words are careful, like she's testing the waters. Felix appreciates it, but he knows that she can feel the way he's twitching in his joggers, hard against her inner thigh. Far from embarrassed, now, Felix just wants her to keep fucking talking.

"I do want it," he says.

"You want to think about the things that we've done, every time you're in here?" she asks. "When the guys are here, too?"

Felix lets out an undignified whimper, but he's too far gone already to care.

"Or do you just want to think about me?"

"As if I don't already," Felix murmurs.

"Do you?" she asks, amused.

"How could I not?"

How could he not imagine what she feels like under his hands, completely bare and all for him? How could he not want her here, beneath or above him, always?

"Okay, then," she says.

Her eyes are dark, her voice is darker, and Felix is briefly concerned that he's not going to survive if she's like this.

"Come on, Stray Kids Felix, if you wanna fuck me, then fuck me."

🕷 you 🕷

When you come back to Earth, the energy is so surreal that you're not even embarrassed about how you acted.

The things that came out of your mouth...you didn't even know that you were into things like that. Talking like that. You didn't think you'd be into pushing Felix around like that, teasing him and pulling all of those embarrassing (hot...extremely hot...) confessions of intimacy out him. Maybe this counts as a kink of some kind? You're not sure. It wasn't premeditated, that's for sure.

You knew what Felix wanted right away, of course. You've been wondering yourself when that moment was finally going to come, when one of you would finally ask the other to cross the line and finally, finally have sex.

That moment came, and Jesus Christ. Given everything else about Felix, you'd expected a sweet and simple first time together. What you’d gotten was a lot more.

He seems to have enjoyed it, though. You can assume as much from the way he's sprawled on his back beside you, flushed and breathless, one arm over his eyes as he calms down. You certainly enjoyed it.

But for now....

"I'm gonna go use the bathroom," you tell him.

"Sure thing," he mumbles, "Put some clothes on."

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't," you tease.

Felix laughs, deep voice even deeper from wear. "People live here."

You do pull your skirt back on, despite your words, and when a quick glance around doesn't yield your blouse, you pick up a random discarded t-shirt from the floor and put that on, too. Undergarments are too much of a bother just for one quick trip to the bathroom.

"Hurry back," Felix pouts.

He's still not looking at you, eyes half-hidden beneath his arm and a faint smile playing over his mouth, freckles standing out starkly on his pink cheeks. It makes you strangely proud that you did this. His content and his exhaustion, his pretty flushed face and the faint fingernail marks fading on his shoulder, are all because of you.

You blow him a kiss as you sneak out the door.

And you run smack into Bang Chan.

Literally. You turn around, and you collide with a firm chest just inches outside the door. You stumble, and a quick glance confirms it.

“Chan!” you gasp.

"Whoa!" Chan exclaims, catching you by the shoulder as you regain your balance. "(Y/N)! Sorry!"

"No, no, I'm sorry," you sputter, "I should have looked where I was going."

"No, I'm the one who-"

Chan cuts himself off suddenly, and he lets go of your shoulder as if it's burned him. He's looking pointedly at some fixed spot just behind you in the hallway. Something wrestles with the gentle surprise on his face, and after a moment he just smiles blandly.

It's that moment that you become very, very aware of the fact that you have absolutely nothing on under these clothes.

"Sorry, really," he says.

"No...no problem."

His face is flushed. You'd forgotten how good he looks when that pink tone takes over his ears and the high points of his cheeks. Dazed, you move toward the bathroom door, and you're mortified when Chan takes a step in the same direction.

"You - oh. Go ahead," he says.

"It's your house," you reply, "If you need-"

"I insist."

You smile in spite of yourself, in spite of this absolutely ridiculous situation you've found yourself in. Absently, you try to smooth your hair back into place. Your priority should be getting away as fast as you can, but you can't seem to make your feet move. Surely it can't be too much trouble to talk to Chan for just a minute longer...

"I was just gonna shower, anyway. I can wait," Chan says.

You glance over his mussed clothes, the towel thrown over one shoulder.

"Gym?" you guess.

"Ah, I've been trying to get back into the routine, yeah," he says, with a real smile this time, one that makes his dimples pop.

"I can tell."

His ears flame darker pink, and a wave of satisfaction crests in the pit of your stomach, warm vindication. You trudge into the bathroom, determined to leave this social interaction on a high note.

"Hey, (Y/N)?" Chan calls, as you're closing the door.

You freeze.

"Yeah?"

You can't see him, but you can hear his sheepish smile in his voice as he says, "Are you gonna keep borrowing my shirts every time you come over?”

🐝 him 🐝

The things that he's hearing from inside his shared bedroom are stronger than he ever imagined words could be.

Because they're doing actual damage inside his head. They must be. They're ricocheting around his skull, knocking the edges off his judgement and chipping away at his restraint, changing him into a person he barely recognizes in this moment. That must be what's going on.

That's the only possible explanation for why he's still standing here.

And then he hears her voice, low and firm and sensual.

"Come on, Stray Kids Felix, if you wanna fuck me, then fuck me."  

That.

That's the final blow, and he can't even decide what piece is worst.

Maybe it's Felix's name. It's a name that he knows and says and loves, that he shortens and tosses around because that's one of his favorite people in the whole world, and such a wonderful name attached to such a wonderful person shouldn't sound like that-

Maybe it's the profanity, sharp sounds warping the intention and the sound in a way that renders the entire sentiment alien.

Or maybe it's their name. The team’s name. Their title, their distinction, wielded like an insult rather than the badge of belonging that it's meant to be. Their name, thrown into the ring like it's nothing.

The sentence all together is more than he can handle.

He's shocked, and more than a little embarrassed that he's walked into a moment like this, but more than that...

On top of that...

He's. He's hard.

Felix chooses that horrific moment to answer, voice so low that it's almost lost through the buffer of the closed door.

"God, I'm fuckin' gonna."

And his hand flies down to press over the undeniable erection in his loose shorts, equal parts shame and deep intrigue. He should be running away, stopping himself, going in there, fucking anything other than exactly what he's doing. But he can't seem to unfreeze his feet from this very spot.

A gasp.

A moan.

A high-pitched noise that's so breathless and desperate, it could equally be either Felix or her. His Felix, his favorite person, or her. That girl.

He closes his eyes for longer than a blink, steels himself, and just for a moment, just for as long as this lasts, slides a hand into the waistband of his shorts, and indulges.

-----

After what seems like an eternity, they've finished.

He hasn't. He didn't let it go that far, though he did enjoy himself. He stands, slightly weak-kneed and extremely empty-headed, leaning against the wall just to feel the cool paint against his side.

And then that girl runs right into him.

How he didn't hear the door open, or hear any of the conversation that must have happened on the other side, he'll never know.

She's just there, suddenly, walking straight into him and gasping out his name.

"Chan!"

"Whoa!" he hears himself say, "(Y/N)! Sorry!"

He steadies her with one hand on her shoulder.

"No, no, I'm sorry, I should have looked where I was going."

"No, I'm the one who-"

Chan can feel any chance of getting out of this situation with his dignity intact dying as he looks at her, apprehensive anyway, and notices what she's wearing.

It's a t-shirt. It's his.

This one is nothing special, just like the last one, but Chan's stomach twists unpleasantly as he looks at her. It's another one of their old shirts from album promotions, worn-out to the point that Chan's kept it only out of nostalgia, kept only for sleeping and gym sessions. And apparently, to be borrowed by the girl that Felix is fucking.

No, by the fan that Felix is fucking.

The fan.

He's been silent for much too long by now, just staring. All he can imagine, as he looks at her, is the sound of her voice.

"Come on, Stray Kids Felix, if you wanna fuck me, then fuck me."  

But as the memory echoes, as he looks at her in the borrowed Yellow Wood shirt, some of the ambiguity falls away, leaving the one thread that runs through this entire tryst as he understands it. The thing that makes this girl stand out as a risk, as a red flag dressed in Chan's t-shirt with the faint imprint of Felix's teeth on her throat beneath it.

Stray Kids Felix. Fuck me.

Stray Kids.

[pogueit]

P.H: Confession #39209

Pairing: Pope Heyward x reader

Summary: All the pogues are going away to college but will your feelings for a certain human secretions specialist go away too?

Songs: That Summer Feeling by Jonathan Richman, Gloves for garbage by Damaged Bug, Friends of P. by The Rentals

Warnings: alcohol, drug usage, swearing, going to uni, a sandflea? If there’s anything you guys would like me to take let me know!!

WC: 3,183

A/N: This is extremely overdue (this motherfucker has been in my drafts for a WHOle YEAR!!! I hope you enjoy it as always!! I appreciate feedback and requests!!!

It was the last big party before all the pogues go off to college. Sadly, the group was finally being split up, but hopefully not forever. You decided to send your ass off to go to art school in Chicago, Kie was accepted to Standford, Pope is flying to Boston University, JB is attending a community college in North Carolina, and hell they even managed to get JJ into a local trade school. It had been the best summer of your entire life, but there was one thing that weighed on your heart, you were madly in love with Pope and you've never had the guts to tell him. 

You had known each other since the third grade. You became acquainted in the principal's office after you beat the shit out of Topper for slapping a book out of Pope's hands. Both of your parents managed to hit it off too and would lend their child labor, you, to the Heywards and the Heywards would lend their child labor, Pope, to your parents whenever they needed help. You two were practically conjoined at the hip. No one ever saw one without the other. It was always Y/N and Pope or Pope and Y/N. Pope would later introduce you to JJ and John B and you would introduce all of the meatheads to Kiara. After the gang was officially formed, that's when all the mischief began and that's what you guys were known for. Always fucking shit up or blowing shit up or bringing shit to life.

You made multiple attempts throughout the summer to confess your feelings, but the boy was still as clueless as ever. Sometimes you just wanted to grab him by his shirt and scream it in his face but when you would take the first steps to do it the nerves would hold you back. Every instance always ended the same. The light would be hitting him just right or he would just be warmly staring up at you. You'd always start it off with "I have a confession to make" and you would be able to see the intrigue light up in his eyes and he'd say something along the lines of "Oh really? What is it?". You then would barf up a lame answer of "Remember when-" and continue to tell him you caught his favorite hoodie on fire and replaced it or how you'd been the one stealing his lunch that one week a hundred years ago. 

"So... Are you gonna tell 'em?" Kie asks as she tossed herself down on your bed full of clothes. She has been egging you on since summer started and has become even more persistent as summer is coming to a close.

"Please, tell me you are!" She pleads, grabbing your arms and pulling down with her onto the crummy mattress. 

"Ugh, Kie, you already know I won't" you sighed, pushing yourself into a sitting position with your legs crossed underneath you. Kiara rolled her eyes at you and mimics the same position you are in and begins tugging at the clothes she was on and folding them before she placed them in the suitcase.

You had been stalling on packing all week and now only had a day before your departure to get everything stowed away. Now, seeing your relatively empty bedroom, you started to regret your decision about going so far away. From now on everything’s going to be different and everyone’s going to change. Even the ones that say they won’t always come back a little different whether it be a new haircut or clothes you never come back exactly the same. Seeing Kiara’s concerned face you shake the feeling from your mind and begin to get to work.

After you and Kie manage to shove all your clothes into the suitcase, you motion for her to jump onto the suitcase so you can attempt to close it. 

"This is your last chance! You just gotta!" Kie followed your orders and threw herself onto it, but before you can reach for the zipper she grabbed you by your shoulders and added "You have to tell him tonight!" 

"You are supposed to be helping the pack, not annoying me!" You playfully shoved her off the suitcase and onto the bed once you seal it shut. She feigns distress, something you can only roll your eyes at.

"Whatever, loser, we have to go help the knuckleheads set up anyways" Kiara jumps off the bed and pulled you along with her to go see the boys. 

When you two got to the Boneyard it was a mess. The boys were terrorizing each other with sand and the twinkie has yet to be unloaded. 

“Guys, what the fuck!?” Kie shouted at them using her “mom” voice and they all froze in place, even you. This voice was reserved for only true fuck ups and it was the most terrifying thing anyone could ever hear. The boys exchanged questionable glances to one another before Pope started running towards JJ again, with something obviously in his hand. JJ with wide eyes booked it, running right for you and Kiara. He immediately grabbed you and used you as a human shield against whatever the hell Po was holding. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You tried to break out from his grasp as he maneuvers your body to block Pope. 

“Tell him to get the fuck away from me!” JJ cowers behind you when Pope stuck out his hand right in your face to reveal a sand flea. 

“Oh, fuck” You immediately threw yourself backward into JJ and begin to fight over who’s going to be the human shield. Both you and JJ had a fear of these little creatures, because of JJ’s dad. He told you that they will crawl into your head through your ears and eat your brain and that was enough to send you two spiraling in fear. Also, they looked gross. 

“You gotta be kidding me!” Kie huffed and left you two fumbling on the ground to go start unloading the van. 

“C’mon Pope, it isn’t funny” JB grabbed the sand flea from Pope’s hand and tossed it to the side. Finally, allowing you guys to relax on the sand.

“Or is it?” JB still had the flea and threw it at you. He doubled over in laughter watching you leap into Pope’s embrace. 

“It’s not on me is it?” you whimpered hugging him tighter. 

“No you’re good” He chuckled looking you over and dusting some sand off your back.

“You sure?” You looked up at him still not letting him go.

“I promise” Pope reassured you rubbing your back soothingly to calm you down. At that moment it came up again, should you profess your undying love for your best friend? No one was around, the waves calmly lapped against the sand, and the sun was beginning to set behind him creating a halo effect. You could feel the courage strong in your chest and you were finally ready.

"Pope, I have a confession to make" you pull away slightly so you could get a better look at his face.

"If it's that you have been stealing my--" 

“No, just listen to me, please” You promptly cut him off as the sudden courage could wear off any second. As soon as you opened your mouth to continue, Kiara’s exasperated voice rang out.

“Pope go help JJ and Y/N come here right now!” 

All the confidence you had deflated immediately.

“We’ll talk later okay?” Pope promised and you weakly nodded your head, as he gave you a quick hug before leaving reluctantly. 

Kie put you to work immediately and you were semi-grateful as it helped take your mind off of Pope. Yet, you couldn’t help but think maybe it was a sign from god to keep interrupting you in the midst of confessing your feelings? Should you just get over it and grow up?

The persistent questions weighed heavy on your heart.

“I’ll take that!” Pope swooped in and snatched the case of shitty beer from your grasp.

“Jesus!” You nearly jumped out of your skin at his sudden appearance. 

“Not him but close” He gave you a cheeky smile and you playfully rolled your eyes at him. 

“Whatever, at least let me help” You held out your hand and did the grabby hand motion. Pope skeptically thought about it for a second before nodding his head and letting you hold the other end of the beer case. On your walk back to the party, Pope told you about some of the people who showed up and who’s going to what university. Between his little quips and watching the sea of people interacting with one another, a familiar uneasiness washed over you. 

“Is it too late to go to school here?” You stopped in your tracks, suddenly, as the feeling became overbearing. 

“Woah, Woah” He took the end that you were holding and set the case down on the sand “What are you talking about?” His hands landed on your shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know I just---” You could feel your heart rate start to pick up and your breathing becomes more distressed. 

"You're gonna kick ass in Chicago, Y/N'' Pope quickly regained your attention and pulled you into his signature "Security Hug" to ground you. He'd been the one to encourage you enough to actually submit your portfolio to them in the first place because he knew how much you wanted to go. All you needed was a little push. You were glad that he did, but now seeing everyone for potentially the last time had sent you into a spiral. He rubbed your back in slow circular patterns while whispering reassuring words into your ear. 

“Thanks, Po” you smiled at him. An overwhelming urge to kiss him suddenly settled within you.

“No worries, that’s why I’m here” the way his face scrunched up into a smile made the feeling intensify and you finally decided to let your actions speak for themselves. You were halfway into connecting your lips to his when a whirlwind of guys from his AP Chemistry class pulled him away and left you awkwardly leaning forward with slightly puckered lips. He caught your eyes and gave you an apologetic look. You were riddled with embarrassment and now you could only hope that you could wash it away with a couple of hundred shots.

“Did you tell him yet?” 

You were downing your third cup of god-awful beer when the voice startled you. It made you accidentally inhale the remaining liquid which promptly sent you into a coughing fit.

“Oh my god! John B!” You finally managed to say after the coughing and his amused laughter subsided. “And no I didn’t-- How did you--” You could barely finish your sentence before you both shared a knowing look.

“Kiara,” you said in unison and buried your face into the beer-infused palms of your hands. JB threw an arm over your shoulders and roughly brought you closer to him.

“There, there, kid. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s actually kinda cute?” 

“I’m older than you” You try, to no avail, to break away from his sweaty embrace “You think anyone else knows?” you stood crushed to his side.

“Oh yeah, the whole island has known since like… Forever” He chuckled and you couldn’t help but groan.

“Does he know?” He loosened his grip around you and reached around you to get himself another drink. 

“Fuck no, he knows shit but he doesn’t know shit, y’know like me or J” He surveyed the crowd. You could tell he was looking for a distraction. The poor boy was taking the breakup with the kook princess pretty hard.

“Smooth, JB, smooth” You rolled your eyes at the brunette and gave him a playful jab with your elbow. His gaze was soon caught by a girl with faded purple hair and you knew you already lost him. 

“Just take your time and only do it if you’re comfortable, yeah?” His voice became distant as his mind was already somewhere else. The girl dared JB to make a move and with that, he gave you a half-hearted pat on your shoulder before trailing after the vacationer.

“Thanks a lot, bird shit” you called after him and he flipped you the bird without sparing you a second glance. Asshole. You had hoped that the alcohol would have kicked in by now, but you were still painfully sober. The alcohol in your system did nothing to soothe your nerves so you sought help from your favorite salt-lifer. 

The sun was almost gone now as you fought your way through the crowd. The only remnants of the sun left were barely visible in the glowing water. You didn’t think looking for him would be difficult but you were always out to disappoint yourself. The search for the golden boy got increasingly confusing as each person you asked about JJ’s whereabouts pointed you in a new direction. Out of frustration, you let yourself slump against one of the many logs that were strewn about. Your eyes lazily moved from one vaguely familiar face to another. It wasn’t until a while later that you caught sight of Pope. He sat on top of a pile of trees as he talked at length to a girl sitting too close to comfort next to him. You could feel the familiar pull at your stomach as you watched his face contour into laugher at whatever the girl said. It was only for a second though as a wave of determination washed over you. It wasn’t strong enough to send you marching over there, but it was enough to spring you into finding JJ again. This time it didn’t take long. He was cooly leaning against one of the dead trunks trying to act nonchalant while he chatted with a cute redhead.

"I need a hit" you mumbled in JJ's ear. You cowered behind his massive frame to try and not distract him too much from his ongoing conversation. Yet, the touron he was talking to still did not seem pleased at your sneaky attempts.

"What for?" He quickly whispered back trying to keep most of his attention on the person in front of him.

"I'm nervous" you wring your hands in an attempt to ease yourself.

"About what? Wait are you--" he quickly spun around shifting his entire attention to you and away from the touron.

"Yeah…” You kick around some of the sand at your feet failing to meet his gaze.

“Oh my god! Dude, Finally!” JJ laughed and threw you into a hug. He seems to be giddier about this than you were. “God, I’m so proud of you right now!” He continued and pulled away from you to rummage around in his pockets. The touron made a sly attempt to regain JJ’s attention but failed miserably. You gave them an apologetic glance, but they only rolled their eyes at you. Once he found his trusty vape pen, that you all collectively deemed the “flash drive”, he tossed it to you. The inhaled smoke in your lungs felt familiar yet foreign as your lungs grew to accept each new puff. You could feel the pit in your stomach relax by your last puff and you handed it back to him. 

“I just saw him head over to the twinkie, so you better go make your move, shithead” He put the flash drive in between his lips as he quickly straightened your shirt and tousled your hair.

“Thanks, dude”

“Whatever, now go make us proud” and with that, he pushed you in the twinkie’s general direction.

When you finally fought your way through the crowd you saw Pope sprawled out on top of the vehicle. 

"Hey, Poe" you greeted him once you got yourself on the roof of the van. He gathered his limbs and scooched over to make some room for you to lay down. The cool metal arose goosebumps all over your bare skin as you laid down. While the flash drive immensely drove away the nerves, you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You didn’t want to see his face when he tells you he doesn’t feel the same way.

“I, uh, have a confession to make and I promise this is the last one” you kept your eyes focused on the abyss that held the night sky.

“Yeah? What is it this time?” He rolled over to face you; he sounded tired from the Boneyard party. You took in a deep breath and prayed to your ancestors that you weren't about to make the biggest mistake of your life.

“I fucking love you. I have loved you ever since we got sent to the principal’s office in the third grade and--- and I felt like I needed to tell you before I leave tomorrow.” You could tell he was expecting something humorous as he laid beside you wide-eyed. His silence was overbearing and was beginning to fray away at the little confidence you had the longer it went on. 

“Like, I totally get if you don’t feel the same I just...” You cut yourself off when the view of the stars above you was blocked by Pope as he leaned over you. He then tenderly connected his lips to yours and you more than eagerly kissed him back. Your hands immediately went around his neck to bring him closer. It was sweet and delicate. It was something you longed for and it was absolutely everything you could have even dreamed of. It was cruelly interrupted though by the bickering that surrounded the twinkie. 

“Can you see anything?” JJ’s voice rang loud and clear.

“Shut up!” Kie hissed back at him and they still had the audacity to act surprised when your and Pope’s head came into view on Kiara’s phone.

“What the fuck you guys!” You shouted exasperated at them for ruining the idyllic moment that you’ve waited so long for.

“What? We just wanted to see if you made your move, but I guess---” You cut him off by throwing your jacket at him.

“I can’t believe you guys would stoop this low” Pope scoffed as he jumped off the roof of the van. He quickly turned around and helped you get off safely. 

“Whatever, love birds” Kie snickered and tossed your jacket back to you before she ran off towards the party with JJ. Pope pulled the van’s side door open and plopped himself on the carpeted floor.

"Y’know, I did think all those confessions did mean something” he chuckled as he leaned against one of the back seats.

“Yeah, right!” you rolled your eyes with a smile before crawling over to Pope and making yourself comfortable on his lap. “How about we give this another shot, shall we?” you continued and wrapped your arms around his neck once again. Pope answered by eagerly rolling the rusted door closed.

[leviiattacks]

CASHIER LEVI AND LIKE THE READER IS THE CUSTOMER AND IT’S LIKE THEY HAVE A CRUSH ON EACHTOHER

author note :: honestly not my best at all..... like at all..... this was actually pretty good but the entire draft got deleted and i just lost all my effort but i felt bad for starting it and not completing it for anon so you may take whatever i have managed to salvage. i hope u enjoy it :’( i am extremely sick rn and yeah writing is the only break i am currently getting from anything :-) SO AGAIN I’ M SORRY ANON..... i may write a 10k + word fic on this though so i can redeem myself bc this is just disappointing 😭

word count :: 3.3k

every single thursday you stop by ackermart. maybe it’s because the day is convenient for you or perhaps it’s because of a certain cashier that works the evenings...

HAHA it’s got nothing to do with a cashier why would it have anything to do with a cashier? :-)

today is like any other. you walk through the fresh produce aisle then proceed to make your way towards the bakery section picking up a loaf of bread

it’s stupid, you know it is but... you think you’ve worked up enough courage to speak to him today!!

and who is him you may ask?

levi at till number four. his tired eyes always happen to pierce into yours and his calloused thumbs brush past your skin when you hand him your rewards card

levi is what his bright red name tag says and although he doesn’t look like a levi you’d like to think your crush isn’t stealing someone’s identity so you believe that it’s his real name

anxiously fiddling with your basket you’re beginning to think this was a horrible idea

the girl ahead of you is flirting up a storm with him and although he’s not reciprocating it by any means you still feel deterred

levi bags the last of her groceries and looks up at her when she asks for a way to contact him. he doesn’t look mad... just bored?

“ma’am. this is an ackermart i don’t think it’s appropriate you ask me for my number. the customer service line is listed on our website.”

the woman raises a brow looking completely flabbergasted. okay, if everything before this wasn’t a warning THIS sure was

she stomps off when she realises levi isn’t kidding and you think you’d feel bad for her maybe if she was more respectful about it

“next customer.” levi calls over his shoulder and you shuffle forward pretending to be engrossed in your phone

“cash or card?” he asks plainly.

you hear the BEEP of your groceries being scanned and think on it for a while before replying with “cash”

you’re clearly pretty good at your pretend to be totally into your phone act because levi tries to get your attention but you don’t hear what he has to say till the third time he repeats himself

but even then you’re still unsure what it is he’s said????

looking down you see his hand is stuck out in front of you and now you’re even more confused

faltering for a second you look at his palm and then speak

“um, i guess your hand is nice? it’s pretty big compared to the rest of you actually.”

“i was asking for your cash?” he says and now you look at his palms in mortification

gasping you yANK your hand into your purse as you laugh awkwardly fishing around to find your money

“oh, OH i knew that. just kidding!! i mean- i meant that thing about your hand?? but i thought it was- i funny? yes the joke funny? i’m-”

he leans back into his spinning chair and sighs contently. “you’re not making much sense peaches.”

“pe- peaches??” you repeat. no way you’ve heard that correct

levi lazily points at the abundance of the aforementioned fruit in your grocery bags

“you must love em.”

“i, well yeah i do like peaches but i also like...” um??? what food would make you look sophisticated and professional?

OH YEAH

“FRENCH CUISINE :-)!!!!” you say rather proudly

“...cool. i guess.” levi hands you your grocery bag which is basically an invitation asking for you to get out

he doesn’t seem mad but he’s definitely going to look back at this encounter and laugh his ass off at how stupid you are

hanging your head down low in embarrassment you make your way out towards your car

there’s always next time!! maybe you can practice in the mirror yeah that does sound like it would help!!!

okay so.

it is officially next time.

actually you never got the opportunity to practice in front of the mirror because you chickened out of looking like an idiot even if it was in the privacy of your own home

but!!! you did try to practice some cool pick up lines because who doesn’t like a good pickup line or two??

the two mini milk cartons in your hand and the pack of doughnuts you have tucked under your arm aren’t too heavy so you aren’t too worried about having to wait in the line

for some reason the guy in front of you keeps turning around and glancing at you as if you don’t even exist

you are not casper the ghost

also casper is a little boy and you definitely aren’t a little boy

finally after a good five minutes the man ahead of you is having his stuff scanned but he’s STILL doing it. even levi notices and gives him an odd look which borders annoyance and anger.

“can i pay for your groceries? maybe walk you to your car?” the stranger asks suddenly

so that’s what this is, he’s simply taken an interest in you

my god this is new but it is uncomfortable and you’d rather say no

“oh, i actually walked here and no thanks i can pay for my own. enjoy the rest of your day!!” you hope your white lie is enough to fool the man but instead of agreeing as any other person would he looks majorly deceived

“i saw you in the parking lot.” ok this is getting a bit too uncomfortable for your liking

“c’mon i’m offering to buy your shit too?”

his voice is raising and you’re not sure what exactly you can do but thankfully for you the manager steps in and takes him away before any more threats can be made

the man had taken up so much of your attention you almost forgot levi was even there until you turned back around

“do you want a member of staff to accompany you to your car? it’s getting dark out.” levi’s comment helps ease your nerves and you try to laugh off what just happened

“i’m good :-)” you say shaking a little. you’re unsure if it’s the cold or the fact you still haven’t completely calmed down

“you sure peaches?”

“i haven’t bought any peaches this time.”

“you’re still peaches to me.” your cheeks flush at his confidence

wait, maybe this is your chance. you’re the last person in his line and they’re closing up for the day so...

“could you walk me to my car?”

and to your surprise even before you can take back what you’ve said levi agrees

it stays like that for a while.

every thursday levi walks you to your car by the end of his shift, all the while the two of you exchange a few words together

like last week you asked him what his favourite colour was (he said purple) you’ve learnt about his hobbies (he’s a decent cook), you’ve even found out about some of his own personal problems. he had mentioned suffering with insomnia in passing.

to be honest each and every time he walks you to your car he has to notice that you begin to park further and further away from the front entrance. but if he does notice he doesn’t say a word about it

“is that all you’re checking out?” you ask with a cheeky grin plastered across your face

looking down at your new dress your lopsided grin is far from fading away any time soon. you especially picked this one out after asking levi what his favourite colour was last week

god. this is so embarrassing but never actually have you had a crush this huge

levi who’s sat behind the counter shoots you a look which almost seems to be on the verge of uninterested. he isn’t entertaining this at all or this is just his typical bored face, you can’t really tell

BUT..... you still have a huge crush on him and you aren’t one to give up this easily

for the record you don’t harass him or anything, just the occasional hint is thrown around but he’s either really dense or doesn’t care

his expression does you no favours, you can’t tell what he’s thinking half the time

“you’re always buying energy drinks... might want to cut down on those they’re no good for you.”

warmth blooms in your chest. he’s just saying it to make small talk but the fact he even thinks to bring that up has your heart fluttering

“i- well- yeah i will!! just have a few overdue essays to get over with :-)” twiddling your thumbs together you think that makes your nerves too obvious so you begin to scratch at the back of your neck

if anything is a dead give away it’s your constant neck scratching, thankfully levi hasn’t picked up on it

“so you wore purple today?” his eyes linger on the thin straps of your dress and you feel the goosebumps rise up onto your skin immediately

“oh yeahhhh-”

“did i tell you yellow was my favourite colour last week?” he asks holding up a neon yellow pack of crisps and for the first time you see him smile

he looks so ?!|>\€|^ pretty ?!/)/&

wait?? yellow??

“didn’t you say purple?”

“no?” he crosses his arms playfully over his chest thinking for a bit

“maybe i did but no it’s really yellow.” he says as he hands you your bag

nodding your head you smile “yeahhhh sure it is.”

damn, now you’re going to have to find a yellow dress just to make him revert back to purple because who even likes yellow?? that’s a deal breaker right there??

update

it’s been two weeks!!

and a yellow dress has been found and secured B-)

it’s been a pretty rough day at work and you need to desperately collect a pack of green tea and get going

you don’t know when exactly being a secretary meant you had to babysit your boss’ children but that’s what the last week has entailed

being made to work overtime to this extent has had an effect on you and you’re ready to head home as soon as you swing by ackermart

not seeing levi for a week made you a little :-( because to be honest he’s the highlight of your thursday evening BUT!! you’ll be able to see him today at least

walking in through the entrance you’re met with connie smiling right at you, he holds the door open for you and smile back greeting him

“so you didn’t come last week...?”

it’s weird for him to ask that, after all you don’t really speak to anyone here apart from levi, you’re surprised you’re enough of a regular to be known by name

“oh i didn’t think anyone would notice? but yeah i had to work overtime you know what boss’ are like.” groaning you crouch down and look at the pot noodles on display

“i didn’t notice it. boss man did.”

“boss man?” you ask feeling out of loop

“levi.” connie answers as he hops into the backroom

????

isn’t he just a cashier??

“you still look confused.” connie remarks as he heads back out with a cardboard box full of pringle’s tubes

“levi’s the boss man, this is his store. he literally only ever mans the cash register on thursday evening because of you.”

at that you start laughing because it makes no sense at all to you

there’s no way connie is being serious

“good one.” you say as you stand up with a chicken flavored noodle in your hand

“i’m not kidding?”

turning around you give him a skeptical look

he sighs and shakes his head.

“listen. me and the part timers are tired of making bets on when he’ll give you his number and i bet that it would happen today so if you could confess to each other that would be perfect!!!”

“who said i like-”

“anyone with a brain can tell you both like each other.” he’s rolled his eyes so far into the back of his head you begin to take him a little more seriously now

“i... did i make it that obvious??” you’re directly facing him trying to get out as much information as you can

“yeah. very. at least levi wasn’t as bold.”

“i think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick he definitely doesn’t like me.”

connie gives you an “are you fucking with me?” look and you look away trying to distract yourself with the the canned goods lining the shelves

“he was worried sick when you didn’t come in for the entire week. he even asked me if he scared you away.”

“maybe i’m just his favourite customer?”

“favourite customer my ass he has a crush on YOU. confess.”

playing around with the ends of your sleeves connie sees he’s fighting a losing battle unless he gives you definitive solid proof

“please... i’ll get free barbecue if i win the bet and i’m kinda broke rn :-(” okay, you do want connie to eat well and be treated and maybe this is a good thing. if levi doesn’t like you then you can move on!!

“i’ll think about it.”

before connie can continue talking you make a beeline towards the tea aisle whilst throwing a “see you next time!” over your shoulder.

by the time you’ve gathered all of your groceries your basket is full to the brim. you’ve been lingering as much as you can out of fear but you think you’ve collected just enough courage to ask for his number

looking at the cash register levi is sat there and your shoulders slump. he’s probably going to say no and you’re going to look like a huge loser.

right as you’re about to take a step towards him levi finally spots you and gives you one look before standing up from his seat

“hi!” you wave at him

“...hey!” he smiles wide but he bites it back pretending it was never there in the first place

placing your basket in front of him he eyes what you’ve got

“hm... lots of peaches as per usual peaches.” the nickname that rolls of his tongue makes you tremble a little. will he call you that after you fuck everything up with this stupid confession?

his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek when he gets to the heart shaped box of chocolates

“a gift for a friend? didn’t know you had those?” he teases as he scans the barcode

“gift for a crush!” you reply back enthusiastically as you dig through your wallet looking for your card

levi doesn’t respond for a few seconds and an awkward silence fills the air. you glance up to see him looking at you open mouthed in shock

“good luck.” he murmurs under his breath he’s not even returning your gaze at this point and is hurriedly scanning through your barcodes

“you okay?” you ask worrying about his mood

“yeah, yeah. great.” he’s quieter than usual.

the rest of your encounter is the same, levi silently bags your groceries and you can’t tell if this is a good or bad response.

just as he’s about to place the heart shaped box into your plastic bag you lunge forward holding his wrist to stop him

“no i don’t need those.”

he cocks his eyebrow upwards trying to analyse your expression and gain an understanding of your thoughts

“don’t tell me you’re chickening out. whoever it is will say yes.” he scoffs as he places the chocolates into the bag handing them over to you with a warm smile

there it is again. the fear returns and you swipe your tongue over your slightly dry lips.

no way.

is he telling you to confess to someone now? so he must not like you?

taking the bag away from him you scratch your neck out of habit and huff feeling frustrated

“he keeps giving me mixed signals.” you say hoping he catches your drift

“give him the chocolates and let him put two and two together. don’t even say anything.” his advice would be great if he weren’t the guy you were trying to confess to in real time

nodding you reach into the bag and bring the box back out before gently placing it in front of levi

“are you serious?” he asks and your face drops seeing the possible displeasure in his eyes

great, connie and the part timers just over analysed he doesn’t like you, obviously he doesn’t like you, why would he like you?

without looking back you hurry out, the embarrassment is eating you away now and the thought of ever returning to ackermart isn’t even feasible in your mind

at this point you may as well change your name, identity, dye your hair, have a few children and wear sunglasses the next time you come back so you look like a soccer mum and not the foolish y/n who thought they had a chance with their cute CASHIER???

god, you probably look like a creep

the sound of footsteps can be heard behind you and labored breaths follow before levi calls out for you

“please wait up.” he grumbles. slowing down your pace you let him catch up to you. he grabs at your wrist and sighs in relief

turning you see him savour the air

is this the part where he confesses he likes you too or—

“your receipt you forgot it.” he gasps as he opens your hand for you and places it into your palm

oh.

fingers clasping shut onto the paper you feel the humiliation seep into your pores

this.

is.

the.

worst.

moment.

of.

your.

life.

“open it.” he offer you a boyish smile and your nerves don’t let you find comfort in it

you grimace as you fold it open, you’re imagining he’s charged you an extra £100 for having unwanted feelings for him and if that’s the case you’ll die on the spot

but instead your eyes light up in joy. you’re pleasantly surprised

...

inside of the receipt is his phone number haphazardly sprawled across in black biro - you even double check by comparing it to the number for the customer service helpline

hello??

HELLO.?.!/)£ HIS NUMBER???

“if you just wanted to return the chocolate this is embarrassing.” he’s the one who’s now scratching at his neck and you find that he’s endearing this way

the streetlight from above illuminates him, the shadows cast over his face and his brows aren’t furrowed as they usually are

you open your mouth to reply but connie cuts you off unintentionally. he can be heard YELLING into his phone ecstatic that his plan has worked out

“I WIN!!! HA BBQ’S ON YOU JEAN!! MUST SUCK TO BE YOU.”

you and levi look at each other and laugh, reassuring the other of what has just happened.

well...

you guess this is the start of something new? maybe??

:-)

[honeypiehotchner]

illicit affairs (Spencer Reid one-shot)

This is wayyy overdue! It’s just been sitting in my drafts, waiting for me to edit her, but she’s finally here. This is very loosely based on Taylor Swift’s song of the same title. And it’s 100% me writing out some feelings through fanfiction, so it’s also loosely based on true events. Enjoy!

Summary: You and Spencer have been “dating” without a label for a few months now, until you witness something that has you wondering if it was too good to be true (as always).

Warnings: it’s so dramatic. Angst with a happy ending!

Spencer has no fucking clue what he did.

Well, to be more accurate, Spencer has no idea if he even did anything at all.

One second the two of you were acting as normal as ever, attached at the hip and nothing less, and the next you’re barely able to look at him. You won’t speak to him, you insist you’re fine, and you ask him to leave you alone -- please.

A new case comes and he thinks things will fall back into their rightful place. He expects you to sit with him on the plane, but you choose the farthest seat away from him. He expects you’ll be paired with him when he says he’ll go to the local station to work on victimology, but instead you agree to Morgan’s offer to look at the crime scene.

He’s desperate. He’s a so-called genius, and he’s losing his mind.

“Morgan, help me out here, man,” Spencer pleads, cornering Morgan when he’s getting a coffee. He’s just returned from the crime scene with you, but of course, you’ve ducked away from Spencer.

Derek’s eyebrows raise. Slowly, he turns around, eyeing the desperate genius. “You’re asking for my advice?”

“She won’t talk to me,” Spencer whispers, eyes cutting to you, but only for a second. He doesn’t want you to think he’s creepily staring at you all the time. So far, you haven’t caught him (that he knows of).

“Well, what did you do?” Morgan asks like the answer should be blatantly obvious.

“I don’t know!”

“Alright, let me rephrase that for you,” Morgan’s tone is bordering on teasing, but he can’t help it. The resident genius of the BAU is having trouble talking to a woman. Who knew? “Have you done anything that would lead her to believe you’re not interested in her anymore?”

“What? No!”

“Think, Reid,” Morgan replies, tipping his cup of coffee in the air. “And when you figure it out, apologize.”

He leaves without another word. Morgan joins you and Emily back in the room where the team has set up base. You share a particularly heated look with Morgan, but he shakes his head, letting you know he didn’t betray your confidence. You relax.

Spencer doesn’t know this, but earlier when you were riding with Morgan to the crime scene, you confided in him.

It had been completely accidental. Something about car rides brings out the need to ask for advice. Maybe it’s the fact that there’s the road to focus on, or the case to segway into, you don’t know. But what you do know, is that when you confided in Morgan, he shook his head, and called Spencer a dumbass.

“Hypothetically,” you had begun, and Morgan remembers wondering if you were going to talk about the case, but you didn’t. “If you’ve been talking-- flirting with a guy and going on a few dates over the past few months -- but there’s no label -- but so if you’ve been doing all this and then you suddenly see him outside his apartment hugging another woman -- like arms around her waist kind of deal, face in her neck...what does that mean?”

Morgan had nearly slammed on the brakes. Reid? A two-timer? He never would’ve guessed. The kid could barely get his words out when he first met you, and now he’s playing you?

“Well, hypothetically,” Morgan played into your game. “I’d be suspicious. Personally, I don’t just hug any woman like that if I don’t have other intentions,” he shook his head. What you’re describing is intimate, especially for Reid. “You’re right to think something else is going on.”

“Who said it was about me?”

Morgan looked at you with his usual knowing stare. Sometimes you forget you’re all profilers. You’ve made deals not to profile one another, but you’re sure it still happens. You all have another silence agreement to never voice it aloud, unless needed.

“Fine,” you caved, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know, I just-- I was going to drop off his stupid jacket that he left in my car the night before, and I saw him hugging her right on his doorstep and she kissed his cheek and I just-- I bolted. I don’t know.” You had let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought he was different.”

“If it helps,” Morgan shrugged, “I’ll kick his ass.” He might protect Reid like a mother hen, but he’s not afraid to give him a hard time, either.

“No, no, don’t,” you groaned. “I’m just gonna keep my distance. No sense in putting effort into something that clearly is never going to happen.”

“Oh, come on, don’t talk like that,” Morgan said. You used to talk that way all the time when you first started at the BAU, but it slowly died out the more you hung out with Spencer. Morgan connected the dots, but never told you.

“You know I’ve never been in a relationship?”

This time, Morgan did slam on the brakes.

“What?”

“Never,” you shook your head, motioning for him to keep driving. “Not one. They all fall through. I started thinking something was wrong with me, you know?” Morgan gave you another look, his sad, big brother one this time. “But then Spencer and I started getting closer, he took me on what I thought, I guess, were a couple of dates. I mean, he paid and drove and walked me to my door and all that cute shit. That’s a date, right? I mean, he never kissed me on the lips, but it’s Spencer.” You didn’t even look to see Morgan’s reaction, but he was nodding. “I started to think maybe it was never me, maybe it was the guys--”

“It was the guys,” Morgan argued. “Alright? You’re amazing. Anyone would be lucky to have you. It would be a damn honor. Don’t let that head of yours convince you otherwise.”

You shook your head, the crime scene rapidly approaching. “I’m not so sure anymore.”

You were out of the car and introducing yourself to the police on the scene before Morgan could even blink.

Morgan can only hope Reid had a good reason for having a woman at his door and hugging her, and letting her kiss his cheek. Reid doesn’t give hugs to just anyone, let alone accept a kiss, so whoever it was, obviously she was more than a friend.

The thought of Reid being a player makes Morgan smile. On the one hand, he’s a little bit proud. On the other, he’s pissed. It’s one thing to have one night stands with women who are into that sort of thing, but it’s another to drag someone along -- someone like you, someone who is too good, who deserves better than that.

Morgan had thought about telling you to just talk to Spencer, in hopes that there was a good reason for what you saw, but you’ve made it painfully clear over the past two weeks that you’d rather keep your distance instead.

So, he lets you. He can’t say that he blames you, really. Not after what you told him. He can only hope Spencer will figure this one out before it’s too late.

+++

After the case is closed and you’re back home, you immediately head for the shower. Cases are exhausting enough, but avoiding Spencer made it worse. Going from being attached at the hip to trying to be anywhere except in the same room as him took a toll on you. Not to mention, dodging everyone else’s worried looks. Morgan is the only one you’ve confided in, but that hasn’t stopped Hotch, Emily, JJ, and even Garcia from constantly asking if you’re alright.

Once you’re finished showering and in your pajamas, you head back to the living area. Spencer’s forgotten cardigan lays on the arm of your couch, lonely.

You know you shouldn’t, but you shrug it on anyway. No harm in wearing it. Not like he misses it. He probably has a hundred others.

You head to the kitchen to make yourself some tea, hoping it’ll soothe your nerves and help you drift off to sleep before your mind has the time to make you think of Spencer.

Too late.

Sighing heavily, you place the kettle on the stove. You hum a song while you’re at it, knowing that you’re being endlessly dramatic.

It’s not like you had sex with Spencer. Hell, the most the two of you did was hold hands and you kissed his cheek. He kissed your head once, though you think it was an accident.

Still, there was never a label. Why are you so upset?

Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby/Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

It’s stupid, really, how hung up you are over this. A few dates don’t exactly mean anything at all. Flirting nowadays can mean nothing, too. You don’t understand any of it.

You cup your cheek gently, foolishly wondering what it would feel like if Spencer’s hand was there instead -- maybe even as he kissed you, but you don’t want to get too carried away. It’s not like anything will ever happen now.

And you know damn well/for you I would ruin myself/a million little times

Maybe you just need more time. This was the first time in a long time that you had let your guard down, let yourself go on dates. So many times it had all gone wrong, so you closed yourself off and focused on your career. You thought since you were stable at the BAU that now it was okay.

You thought Spencer -- Spencer Reid, of all people, you really thought he would’ve been different.

Maybe it’s just your type. Maybe that’s who you attract. The men who don’t want anything serious and never will. They’re stuck in Peter Pan mode. You must be Wendy. It must be a curse.

The kettle boils and you cut the burner off, fixing your tea.

You’re just walking back to the living room when there’s a knock on your door. You freeze, your panicked mind expecting the absolute worst, until you hear Spencer’s voice.

“Y/N?” He calls out. “It’s Spencer-- You probably knew that already.”

You smile into your tea, but you make no move for the door. You want-- no, you ache to let him inside, but you know it’s a bad idea. He’s probably here to ask if you’re alright, and you don’t have the energy to answer him. He’s probably going to go back to his girlfriend after this. You really don’t know that you can handle a face-to-face rejection.

“Y/N, please,” Spencer says again, pleading. He knocks once more, quietly. “I see lights are on, so I’m just going to...assume you can hear me.”

You walk a step closer. You don’t want to let him inside, but maybe you can listen. That won’t be too bad, right?

“Y/N, I’m...I’m sorry.”

Oh, tears. Stupid, stupid tears. You wipe them on the sleeve of his cardigan, glad that they’re at least falling quietly right now.

“I don’t know what I did, but I’m...I’m just sorry and I miss you and it’s killing me that you won’t even look at me. I…” Spencer pauses, and you walk closer, biting on the sleeve to keep from letting out a sob. “I’m sorry, I don’t… Please, just tell me what I did.”

You press your back to the door, sliding down until you hit the floor. You keep your knees against your chest and set the mug of tea down next to you. The noise causes Spencer’s ears to perk up.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yeah, Spencer,” you barely speak loud enough for him to hear. “It’s me.”

“Please, tell me what I did,” he pleads, voice breaking. Is he crying, too? “I don’t know what it was, but I’ll fix it. Or I’ll try-- Please, let me try.”

“Spencer…” You sigh, tears falling down your cheeks with no restraint. “Be honest with me, are you seeing someone else?” You pause, choking on a sob. So many times you’ve had this conversation, the rejection, finding out you weren’t the one they wanted. Too many times. But none of them ever hurt this bad. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” Spencer nearly falls over. Why on earth would you think that? “What are you talking about? Of course not.”

“Don’t lie to me, please,” you groan, pressing your hand to your forehead. This is pathetic. You shouldn’t be showing him how upset you are. And through a door, no less. Can you get any more dramatic?

“What are you talking about?”

“I was at your apartment, Spencer,” you mutter, wiping angrily at your cheeks. “I went to drop off this stupid cardigan of yours and you-- You were hugging a woman outside your door and I saw it and I saw her kiss you--”

You cut yourself off, choking on another sob, and Spencer sighs. He understands now.

“Open the door. Please,” he says.

“Why?” You reply quietly. “If you’re just going to reject me, please, just do it through the door.” The last thing you want is for him to see you like this when he tells you he’s seeing someone else, that he didn’t even know you liked him, and so on.

“I’m not rejecting you,” he says softly. “Please.”

You know it’s a bad idea, but how much worse can things get?

You stand to your feet and open the door, careful of the mug of tea on the floor. Spencer’s heart drops at the sight of you. Tear stains on your cheeks, red eyes, your quivering lip as you try to hold things together, and...his cardigan hanging off your shoulders. Somehow the last tops it all off, sends a strike of pain right to his heart.

You wipe some more tears away with the sleeve, motioning for him to start talking. “Go on.”

“She’s an old friend. We did kiss before, once. But she’s not my girlfriend. She was in town and wanted to stop by to tell me she’s getting married...to her girlfriend of three years.”

You nod slowly. For some reason, that doesn’t even make you feel better. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Spencer asks, hopeful tone and all. “Are we okay?”

“What are we, Spencer?” You ask, eyes still watering. “I can’t keep going on the way we were going, you know? It’s agonizing, I just want to know what’s going on in your head.”

Spencer smiles softly. “I want you to...to be my girlfriend.”

Your ears are deceiving you. They must be. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I thought it was obvious,” he chuckles. “That’s one of the things I talked to her about -- her name’s Jess. She invited me-- us to the wedding. I was gonna ask you to be my girlfriend-- I still want to, I mean, if you’ll have me.”

More tears spring to your eyes and Spencer’s heart jumps, thinking he did something completely wrong.

“What happened? Did I say something?”

“No,” you shake your head. “God.” You wipe at your cheeks before turning and retreating back into your apartment. Spencer has no choice but to follow you.

He spots your mug of tea and places it on the coffee table as he shuts your front door gently with his foot.

“I’m so...stupid,” you mutter, jumping when you see he’s followed you inside. He’s not unwelcome here by any means, you’re just an idiot. A huge idiot.

“You’re not stupid,” he argues. “I wish you would’ve talked to me.”

“Would you believe me if I told you this has happened to me before?” You murmur pathetically, propping your body against the arm of your couch.

Spencer’s heart breaks more. You won’t look at him again.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, clasping your hands together, fighting the shakes. “I should’ve talked to you, I just-- This has happened before and those times it was… Well, you know.” You finally look up at him, tears falling. “The first time the guy didn’t even try hiding it. The second one did, but not very well because I still found out. The third wasn’t even aware that he was flirting with me, I guess. I don’t know how you can take someone on dates for months and not be aware, but he said he wasn’t.” You pause, looking away again. “I just saw a pattern and I freaked out and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispers, even though you still feel like it’s not.

You shake your head.

“Y/N, it is,” he presses on. “I should’ve...talked to you about how I’m feeling, but I was scared. You’re the first girl that’s-- I don’t know, liked me for me, I guess. Dorkiness and all.”

You chuckle, and Spencer nearly grins. He got a laugh. That’s something.

“How about we both make a deal to communicate better?” He offers. You nod, so he keeps going. “I’ll go first. I really want you to be my girlfriend.”

You can’t help but smile now, all dumb and trying to hide it in the sleeve of his cardigan. “I’d really love to be your girlfriend.”

“Yeah?” He asks, almost like he wasn’t even expecting you to agree, but you nod, confirming it for his genius brain.

The kiss the two of you share is a long time coming. It’s gentle and warm, relaxing your muscles and easing the tension you’ve held in them for the past two weeks. Spencer gathers you in his arms, keeping you close, with zero intent of ever letting you go.

+++

When you walk into the BAU the next morning, you are painfully reminded that you are surrounded by the best profilers in the country.

It’s no secret that you and Spencer have been “dating” for a while, but you never showed PDA -- partly because the two of you were fumbling around your true feelings, and partly because you’re not too sure how relationships stand with protocol here.

Apparently, despite coming in fifteen minutes apart from one another, everyone can see right through you both.

Morgan is the first to say something. He catches you when the elevator doors open and you have Spencer’s cardigan hanging over your shoulders. In your defense, Spencer forgot to grab it when he left your house sometime this morning, so you were just trying to return it -- again.

“Late night?” Morgan raised his eyebrows.

Realizing your mistake, your eyes widen. “Shut up.” You step off the elevator and point a threatening finger in his face. “Not a word.”

Morgan’s hands raise in surrender, but he still has that goddamn smile on his face. “Might wanna take off that cardigan, sweetheart. You’re too obvious.”

Angrily, you shrug it off and walk into the bullpen.

Spencer is at his desk, so you shove his cardigan into his chest. “You forgot this.”

Upon seeing that it’s you, Spencer’s lips stretch into a grin. “Thanks.” He pauses, folding the cardigan over his arm. “I was kind of hoping you’d keep it,” he whispers, eyes darting around to be sure no one is listening. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. “Give it to me tonight, then,” you wink, earning a light blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

Hotch watches this encounter from the railing and smiles. He’s sure neither of you will do anything to warrant him giving you a stern talk about relationships and work, so he won’t mention anything for now.

Instead, he retreats back into his office, glad you’ve finally gotten over yourselves.

Garcia catches on when you come to visit her in her office only to find Spencer already standing there. He’s animatedly talking about Doctor Who, but stops abruptly when he sees you. It doesn’t take a profiler to understand the glances, the smiles, and awkward goodbyes that were shared so you could ask Garcia a question.

Prentiss is just glad the two of you will look at one another again, but the way you keep glancing over her shoulder to see Spencer is more than obvious. It’s so obvious that Prentiss and JJ share a knowing look, but say nothing. They should’ve placed bets.

You and Spencer catch each other’s eyes more than a dozen times every hour, and he follows you to the break room to conveniently get a coffee at the same time as you.

Yeah, you’re not being obvious at all.

Neither of you notice that the team has caught on, so you take your chances when you find yourselves alone in the break room. You can practically hear the conversations the rest of the team is having out in the bullpen, so you let Spencer pull you into his arms, his chin resting on top of your head.

This is a lot for Spencer, and you too, if you’re honest. Hugs are something you never found yourself enjoying, but when you’re tucked into Spencer’s chest, you never want to leave.

You’re both too busy holding one another to hear Hotch’s footsteps as he enters the room. The clearing of his throat is what finally breaks the two of you apart.

“Agent Hotchner,” you blurt, straightening yourself and taking one too many steps away from Reid.

Hotch smirks. You haven’t called him that since your first day. “New case. Looks like a short one. Conference room in five minutes.”

And he leaves as quick as he came, chuckling under his breath.

You and Spencer share a look before dissolving into laughter and fixing your coffee. You don’t try to walk out of the break room separately, knowing that there’s no use.

Especially not when you get cold on your way to the conference room, and Spencer promptly wraps you in his cardigan.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird, “A Preoccupation with Death.”

Hope you enjoy :)

Analysis By Dr. Krill MD

Humanity’s preoccupation with death has always fascinated me: I say fascinated because to say that it disturbs me would be rather unscientific, and I have been attempting to reign in my anger… I have had some… complaints over the last year about the unprofessionalism of my previous papers. The GA community does not appreciate, and I quote, “Excessive swearing, and screaming” in virtual reports, so today I will attempt to be calm and relaxed as I explain to you, common human traditions based around death.

Now you must understand, from my perspective these practices are quite bizarre. Vrull have no rituals associated with death. The Vrull are disposed of and their bodies are incinerated. The ash is then disposed with by mixing into the soil to produce needed plants on the planet surface. There are no other options, and no other arrangements are made.

However, I am told that funeral rights with humans are, often, more to do with what the living need than what the deceased do. However, there are some funeral rights believed to be required in certain human cultures, so that rule does not always hold completely true.

I will begin from the moment of death.

Unlike the Vrull humans do not know their exact time of death. Granted this is not because the Vrull have a set clocking system in their bodies which sets the time in which we die, but because our society sets forth a time of our usefulness. No one knows how long a Vrull can feasibly live because no one has tried it before. I myself might plan on finding out, as I have no intention of returning for my scheduled termination, which is already a year overdue.

Humans, like most other species die in several different ways, accidents, sickness, or the sudden failure of the body due to old age, the final one generally happening peacefully and in their sleep.

However this is where humans tend to diverge from their inhuman counterparts, in that they are very social creatures, the death of a human is usually witnessed by multiple family members and friends, in the case of sickness, and is mourned many weeks after because the death of someone in your social circle changes that circle forever. Social bonds are cut and entire social lives are upended. Humans bond so heavily with each other that the loss of one of their own can lead to mental and emotional trauma extreme enough to require medication and hospitalization.

Humans plan their deaths months to years in advance. In certain instances, their jobs force them to plan their death in advance in case something were to happen. Decisions need to be made about who owns their property, where it goes, what happens to their dwellings, and how the surviving members of their family will be supported. Sometimes they plan this due to terminal illness which they knew will lead to their deaths, otherwise they might just do it out of precaution.

There are many different ways of disposing of a corpse. First of all, you must determine if any of the human parts are recyclable: this being the very morbid idea of taking someone else’s organs and giving them to another person. Now with the advancement of this technology, organ transplants from donors is not as common as it once was seeing as they can now 3D print organs. However, this method is not time effective and is very costly, in some cases leaving the harvesting of deceased human organs to be the only viable option.

Yes, they take organs from dead people… the doctor and surgeon in me admires that thought process, but the thinking breathing creature inside of me recoils heavily at the idea.

Assuming that no one requires your organs, or if you have especially requested for your organ not to be used  than there are other questions that need to be addressed. There are humans who have jobs especially in the business of taking care of dead bodies. They are generally moved in special containers and placed in refrigerated units to slow decomposition while the relatives determine what they want to do with the body.

In certain cases, where the death is suspicious, as related to murder, there are, in fact, humans who specilize in determining the cause and time of death based on the decomposition rate of a body and the stiffness of the flesh itself. This is a semi-common practice across the galaxy, and I myself have performed one or two autopsies since my professional career began though they are far more common for humans.

I find that the most humane method of human enterrement, and the one that makes most sense to me as a Vrull is the idea of cremation. The body is taken and placed in a furnace that is then heated enough to turn the body to ash leaving only bone fragments and the occasional mineral deposit. The ash may then be given to the family members or disposed of accordingly. Some humans find it comforting to keep the remains in some sort of container.... A fact which I find morbid but, we have proven in abundance that I find much of what humanity does, rather morbid.

It is only going to get worse.

The other method of disposal, popular through human history, however made someone obscure in recent centuries due to the proliferation of human burial sites…. The common north american and European Burial and funeral rights went as follows. After death, and freezing in the morgue, a special human with the job of mortician is called in to prepared the body for burial…. This is where it gets very morbid.

The body is drained of all of its fluids and then pumped full of preservatives to slow down the process of decomposition. The faces are then painted with makeup to give the corpse the appearance of sleep rather than death. The body is dressed in fine clothing and placed inside a coffin or casket: these in themselves can cost thousands of dollars as the family members decide what materials the box should be made out of and lined with, precious metals, woods like oak or steel, and the inside lined in velvet satin or silk. The body is placed inside with the person dressed in a finely tailored suit before a hearse: a special vehicle designed to carry caskets is brought to the place of mourning, generally a curch or a funeral home.

Many times the body is then put through a “viewing”.... It sounds just as bad as I make it seem, when the humans come in…. In large groups…. To stare at their dead relative. Just…. Stare at their rotting corpse before it is hauled away and lowered into an six foot hole in the earth. A decorative rock is then place on top of that inscribed with the deceased’s name so that everyone knows where to find their moldering corpse….

….

….

I am told this provides a lot of closure for family members, though I have yet to understand why staring at a painted corpse would be helpful.’

Unfortunately, with humans, this isn't the most gruesome method they have of corpse disposal, nor the most involved 

You may also chose to donate your body to science…

They might hand your bod over to a medical school, where aspiring doctors will, in groups, dissect your corpse slowly over an intervening few weeks or months. It is… gruesome, but a necessary part of the learning process. Your skeleton might even be recycled for use as a tool to demonstrate the skeletal structure to those very same students.

Perhaps your body will end up in a museum, where they will encase your nervous system in plaster and place it on a wall for school children and visiting day travelers to view.

Perhaps you might donate your body to…. A body farm. A palace where scientists will toss your corpse out into different elements to observe the rate and change of decomposition based on different dump sites. They will examine the decomposition, the moisture loss, and the bugs which take to eating your body. This research will then be used to determine the cause o death for other corpses disposed of by murderers or in similar fashion.

It is gruesome, but I suppose…. It is useful for scientific efforts.

These aren't the only methods of body disposal.

Bodies have been tied to the top of large towers

Thrown into the woods to be eaten by animals

Dumped into pits.

And in a couple of cases, launched into the vacuum of space.

Different rituals require family members to spend more or less time with the body, to wrap it in special cloth, or to anoint it with certain oils. 

The Egyptians were widely known for their complex and involved enterrement rituals commonly known as mummification.

The body was first embalmed

The brain was removed

The organs removed and placed in specialized canopic jars 

The body was then dried

Then wrapped which continued to help in the drying process 

Then the body was finally entered, and due to the sandy heat of the desert, the body was often preserved to a great and surprising degree. Egyptians believed that those things you had in life would come with you after death, and so egyptian rulers were entered with great riches and inside grand palaces 

Then of course there is the last ritual which I learned about just recently.

Certain tribal societies will….. Eat…. their dead….

They will eat them….

As in the entire village will get together and consume the corpse in a feast, believing that without this they cannot enter the afterlife.

…..

…

…

…

…

I am going to draft a proposal to the GASC that screaming and profanities should be considered scientifically appropriate when in regards to humans

[tommybaholland]

Hiya! I was wondering if I could request a one-shot with Sugawara where the reader is his best friend and secretly loves him but he doesn’t know? Then maybe another person catches his attention and the reader starts to distance themselves from Suga to try to spare themselves the hurt? Then maybe turns out the other person was just using Suga/wasn’t serious bout him and he realizes that the person he really loves is the reader but now they’re staying away from him and just angst and fluff and dramatic confessions?? Sorry if it’s far too much detail, I get carried away. Your writing is amazing, keep up the fantastic work!

somebody, some body

featuring: sugawara 

goddddd i’m so sorry i am late with a post AGAIN. this has been way overdue to be posted actually, and last night i finished it and was almost done with editing but accidentally lost everything i added and edited in the draft :// so thank you for being patient with me! this ended up being pretty long, so hopefully that makes up for the wait :) anyway, i really liked this idea! i have a little personal experience with this kind of situation, so it was fun to explore those feelings a bit. thanks for requesting and enjoy!

you didn’t always know that you would be in love with koshi sugawara. your dynamic was always friendly, and nothing more. so where did you go wrong?

when you think back to your history with suga, you could never find yourself resenting any time you spent with him. it all started when you moved into his neighborhood and as a shy child, you didn’t have the easiest time making friends. but he was a kind boy who was around your age and made it easy for you to form a bond with him. after all those years, neither one of you had changed that much. you were still reserved at heart but, he was the one who pushed you to things that you both could enjoy. 

one is joining the high school volleyball club together. you weren’t usually one to go outside of your comfort zone, but with him, you felt like you could do anything. he had you fuel your enthusiasm and you had him to thank for that. volleyball ended up being a great idea because it was quite a versatile sport that anyone could play. you found that you were quite athletic and took a liking to the libero position. there was just something exciting about digging a ball off the ground and rolling on the floor to get back up again. also, it looked pretty cool. 

so that was great until you hurt your shoulder during a game, which ended up being more severe than it seemed. now you couldn’t lift your left arm very far over your head unless you wanted to dislocate your shoulder again. it was already a tough recovery period because all you wanted to do was get back to the game. 

he was there with you for the entirety of it and even though he mostly encouraged you, he had to make sure you knew you wouldn’t do anything to hurt yourself. you felt helpless. it was the lowest he had ever seen you and he did everything he could to lift you back up again.

that was something you could never take for granted with him. 

the thing about you and suga is that you were in constant contact, especially during school. if it wasn’t sending each other funny memes or tiktoks, you were either on snapchat with each other or texting. sometimes simultaneously. 

are you alive?? 

yeah i’m awake, unfortunately

what do u want sugar-wara 

whoa how are you up this early lol and sugar is my thing ok

let’s go get sweet buns before class

ur right, it is ur thing. ur sugar-wara

okay i’ll meet you by the light in 15 

there was a lonely intersection in your neighborhood with a red stoplight that seems to have malfunctioned and now the light never stops blinking. you and suga lived on the same street, with the intersection being a perfect place to literally meet in the middle. 

“hey, sugar-- uh oh. someone doesn’t look so sweet today!”

he was always so peppy in the mornings. 

“yeah, well, maybe if someone didn’t wake me up with their annoying texts..”

“if you really don’t want to be woken up, you’d put your phone on do not disturb. you can thank me later for being your alarm clock.” 

he gave you a bright smile and a few head pats before you set off down the road to your favorite bakery which happened to be on the way to school. you didn’t go every morning, but most days it was necessary for you to start your day off right. 

“how’s the team looking this year, mr. vice captain?”

“pretty good, actually! four first years joined the team and one of them’s over six feet tall. our blocks will be unstoppable!”

 there were several things you loved about suga but, if there was one thing you enjoyed most, it was hearing him get psyched about volleyball. even though you couldn’t play anymore, his undying enthusiasm for the sport made you feel like you were living through him vicariously. 

“and there’s one who’s on the shorter side, only a little taller than noya. but he seems to have so much energy and drive, it’s just-- i don’t know, i have a feeling we could actually make it to nationals this year.” 

“wow, that’s great!” 

“you should come to practice and see them! also we just got asahi back so i need to make sure my sets really land.” 

“kou, you know i love watching you guys but isn’t that what kiyoko’s there for?”

“well, yeah, but you know how i play best!”

“yeah, sure. it’s not like i have anything better to do.” 

“you never let me down!” 

 his smile never let you down. 

it was your senior year of high school and it felt like things were going to be nothing but great.

“so...speaking of you knowing me best,” he started rather hesitantly.

“what would you do if i...made you dinner?”

“i...what?”

“oh, uh, oh, no. not, like, i make you dinner but, like...rei finally agreed to come around tonight and i thought i’d make something for them.”

“oh, um,” you tried to force a smile. “yeah, i think they’d like that.”

“yeah? you don’t think it’s too cheesy or anything? we haven’t hung out very much but i’d thought it would be a nice way to show them that i mean what i feel, you know?”

“yeah, yeah! that sounds perfect, kou..”

if only they knew that they were so lucky. 

you knew about this person, rei. they were your teammate and even a friend at one time. they transferred to karasuno during your second year and you bonded over your shared interest of the libero position. they didn’t get to play much that season until you got injured and had to quit playing. 

to see them fill that position so easily, it made you feel so type of way. a way that suga couldn’t know because even though he was there for you, he couldn’t deny his feelings. you remember when he told you that he liked them. about how he’s liked them ever since they came to karasuno and about how he was nervous to talk to them. 

and guess what?

you encouraged him. you encouraged him to try to pursue someone who you knew and liked, so now you had to hide that you were envious of both their position on the team AND the fact that your best friend is in love with them. 

at first, you tried to look at it as a positive point. you were still friendly with them, but volleyball was the only thing that connected you so you didn’t talk to them that much anymore. but now that suga, the person you’re closest to, was talking to them, it opened up the possibility that you would be able to reconnect with them. you had to be supportive. you were his friend, his closest friend, after all. 

-

the next morning you didn’t wake up from a text from suga. no, it took several snooze buttons to wake you up, which already put you in a bad mood. 

it’s ur turn now. are u alive??

i actually woke up to my alarms, how weird. u must be dead lol 

also have you done the english assignment yet? i need serious help >_<

you weren’t afraid to double, triple, even quadruple text him because more often than not, he did that to you. sometimes he’d even send longish paragraphs as he did later that day when classes had already started. 

hey sorry today has just been filled with fun and thriving and good stuff! rei asked me if i wanted to meet up with them before school last night and they made me some sweet buns and they were soooo good. i think we’re going to eat lunch together with some of their friends from vbc. ugh english sucks for me too. idk why you think i’m good at it

you almost jumped at the gesture to reply. it was never this long that he would go without text you at least one dumb thing. 

haha it’s okay don’t be sorry! so i guess last night went well?

also ur great at english sugar-wara what r u talking about??

it surprised you how quickly they seemed to become so friendly. it was kinda weird that he would already be spending a lot of time with her and now meeting all her friends. he probably already knew of them though, with volleyball and everything. the thoughts of how long you would have to wait for a reply crept in your mind, but that was quickly erased by an elapsed period of only a few minutes. 

yeah it went great! they had never had someone cook for them before, so they really liked it. this morning they told me they’d show me how to make fried eggs bc i said i dont know how to use a stove lol 

wait you made a whole meal for this person and u don’t know how to use the stove??

i used a crockpot and microwave ok :// don’t make fun of me dingus 

well a stove would definitely broaden ur horizons lmao that’s nice it went well though 

thank you i hope its going well 

that conversation was truly the end of the beginning. 

Every day after that seemed to happen the same way. you’d wake up, no text from suga. he hadn’t even replied to what you last said the previous night. you didn’t see him much either, but you knew who he was with probably. you would still stop by at volleyball practice where you did get to see him but they were there also. so you found yourself dipping out a lot more. 

it just felt weird. seeing him talk to someone he didn’t even know before. they didn’t even know him. even when you two were on the team together, they never once showed much interest in him and now it just seemed strange that they would. 

the transition was particularly difficult for you, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. one night you were so overwhelmed with work because you had waited too long to do it. frantically texting suga was an understatement. 

you knew you couldn’t put all your reliance on him but it was weird that he wasn’t replying on a school night as he was just as much a procrastinator as you. you dragged yourself through the night, trying to put together a somewhat coherent speech for english the next day. which, again, started as it had for the past few weeks. you still hadn’t heard from him, but it doesn’t even matter anymore. by the time he replied, it was almost embarrassing on your part. 

oh my god y/n i’m so sorry i didn’t reply sooner. i tried to get all my work done early so i could hang out with rei last night and i was asking my mom for advice and she told me to just pay attention to them as much as possible so i just wanted to be with them, you know? but i really hope you didn’t beat yourself up too much about it and that you got at least a little sleep. i’m sure your speech went well :) 

you sounded desperate for his help and meanwhile, he’s genuinely trying to show someone how much they mean to him. could you look any more stupid? 

you didn’t even want to reply but you felt like you had to. 

no don’t be sorry koshi! if anything i’m sorry i was just super frustrated in the moment and didn’t know what to do. i managed to pull something halfway decent together i think so it’s all okay now 

was it okay though? 

that was when you realized that things would never be the same. you’re his best friend and that’s simply it. you mean something to him, but not the same something that they mean to him. you couldn’t go to him when you help because then you’d be taking his time away from someone who wanted to feel that special meaning. it was a hard pill to swallow, for sure. but there were still several questions that lingered in the potential of what your relationship could be.

isn’t it possible to be both a best friend and a partner at the same time? you didn’t see any problem with it, so why couldn’t it be true? 

-

two weeks past and suga, your best friend, decided to let you in on some news. 

going up against all these powerhouse schools is definitely tough but it’ll help our team in the long run. we’re really amped to play seijoh soon but also i have an s/o now who can come and cheer us on 

WAIT you guys made it official?? when?

haha we’ve been official for like two weeks now 

oh well that’s great! 

(what the actual hell.)

months went by and you saw suga maybe two or three times. and only saw him, usually with the rest of the volleyball team or with rei and their friends. you texted now and then but it wasn’t the same. you had to accept that it wouldn’t be the same, so you did. you had a good group of friends who you spent more of your time with, as well as trying to focus as much as possible on school. entrance exams were coming up and you couldn’t let this be your downfall, even though you and suga had previously talked about possibly going to the same college together. but that wasn’t important anymore. 

you had your priorities and suga had his. 

which was the biggest reason why you decided not to go to the game against aoba johsai. you told him that you would try to make it, if schoolwork and college prep courses would lend you the chance. you were just trying to focus on yourself and work hard in on your own. you still texted him just to show that you still cared. 

sorry i couldn’t make it to the game! how did it go?

we lost :’(( we were so close too 

oh no :( i’m sorry kou. but i know you guys will get them next time!

he never replied, which only made you want to grow further from him. 

summer vacation rolled around and it was about a month out from suga’s birthday. a strange text appeared from someone you didn’t expect. 

Hey so I wanted to get manga for suga for his bday but I cannot for the life of me remember which ones he has so can you try to casually ask him which ones he has? like the next time you guys talk about manga or something?

you felt weird that they were asking for your help, considering that they now spent more time with him than you did. but you weren’t going to completely ignore them either.

to be honest we haven’t talked a whole lot lately but i’ll try to subtly ask him 

Okay awesome thanks!

what were you thinking of getting him?

Deathnote lol nothing original

hmm maybe the new aot volume? 

Yeah, that’s a good one. Or maybe BNHA

yeah that too! do you still want me to ask him? 

Yeah could you? 

yeah sure!

Yay thanks! 

okay i’ll let you know what i find out

going through with this was even worse. if it were you, you’d take him to see his favorite artist in concert. he wasn’t never much of a concert guy but he would talk about how badly he wanted to go see them live. or a more lowkey and personal option would be to customize a crewneck for him. you had a knack for designing and decorating plain-looking clothes and he would try to do it himself but would always remark how much better yours always turned out. 

but this time you’re simply the messenger and wouldn’t get that chance to get him something you know he’d love. not that he wouldn’t like manga, but it just seemed like they weren’t putting a ton of thought into it. maybe you couldn’t blame them though, it had only been a few months that they had been dating. 

that conversation honestly seemed more out-of-the-blue than anything, but you were hoping that suga would be as oblivious as ever. it didn’t even matter in the end because he never even answered your subtle way of asking. you didn’t feel like double texting because a.) you hadn’t done that in months and b.) it seemed too obvious. 

in the end, you did all that you could do and told rei that you had no information to provide, even after a week had passed. that was your, now monthly, interaction with suga that month. 

but it wasn’t like you weren’t thinking about him. 

your interactions moved from text to strictly snapchat, where you would hold streaks for considerable amounts of time. but every time you seemed to break contact with him, you found yourself blaming them. but you couldn’t blame them. they were with him, dating him. they had a right to claim a spot by his side. you had learned to pull back and just live your life. 

but life didn’t want you to have a great time either. albeit through a simple app like snapchat, he was the one asking you if you were okay. at this point, you would probably just deflect but somehow, you found yourself telling him about how you didn’t do so well on your entrance exams, despite having done what you could to prepare for them. you just thought you were so focused to do well, but maybe it was too much focus. you told him it would be alright. another notification came through.

snapchat from sugar wara  

you opened it to a selfie of him, one that was angled upwards to position him looking right up into the camera, his wide hazel eyes being the centerpiece of the photo. the caption simply said, “promise?”

and that was when it happened. you felt something different in your heart like it was knocked around in your chest. you smiled at the simple response and replied, “yeah i promise!!” 

it felt strange, but you finally admitted it, 

you were in love with koshi sugawara. 

timing was, without a doubt, a demise in all of your previous relationship endeavors. you could never seem to get that part right, also coming in too fast or not knowing if you should wait. you had only hoped that someone you liked would like you just as much. so catching feelings for someone, strong feelings at that, was not part of your current life plans. let alone with suga, someone you were, at one point, extremely close to. 

you know so much about him and what scared you was that your confession would be the only one that could mess up whatever relationship you had left with him. why couldn’t you just enjoy where you stood with him? why should your selfish feeling have to get in the way? 

stupid was an understatement as you how you felt. he was still dating rei, and that didn’t look like it was going to end anytime soon. you didn’t know what to do or how to cope. you can fight your feelings, but they can’t change right away. and for as long as you’ve known suga, the history you’ve shared with him, it seemed like these feelings weren’t leaving anytime soon. 

you spent the next couple of weeks trying to get everything out, while simultaneously trying to forget. you vented about it to your friends and while most of them offered advice, you stuck with just remaining stagnant. one of them suggested that you confess to him but that was what you feared most: that your feeling would become so overwhelming that you had to do something impulsive to relieve them. he would probably never talk to you again. there was nothing you could do. he was in a relationship with someone he really likes. why would you try to ruin that for him? 

you didn’t go to any of the preliminaries, mostly because of prep courses and trying to prepare for the next round of entrance exams. you still kept up with suga and saw that they won in the game against seijoh and we now going to the finals against shiratorizawa. you swiped up on his story and typed a simple, “omg that's amazing!! see I knew you guys could do it.” you continue to scroll through your phone, not thinking that much about it until a notification popped up.

sugar wara is typing…

snapchat from sugar wara

yeah it was great! Wish you could have been here though :(

me too! college prep courses seem to have been taking up all my time :P

is there any chance that you could try to find time to come to finals? 

we've been trying to get all the support that we can

plus it would be nice to see a familiar face there :) 

yeah i'll see what i can do to try to be there!

 wymd a familiar face? hasn't rei been going to the prelims?

they have been but we actually broke up about two weeks ago

i sort of initiated it but i promise it's okay

your eyes almost fell out of your head when you read that 2 weeks ago you were talking about how you were in love with him and were and decided to accept that it wasn't going to happen. now you're hearing that at the same time they had broken up? It seemed odd and... bittersweet. 

oh no i'm sorry kou :(

you bit your lip as you couldn't help but ask.

wdym you initiated it tho?

so kageyama has been killing it as our setter especially with his quick attack move with hinata 

rei was worried that i wasn't being treated fairly bc i'm a senior and vice-captain and all that. i tried to reassure them that i just want to see our team thrive and go to nationals but they still were worried about it and would talk about how they would go to games and never see me play once

it's been hard especially that it happened right before the seijoh game and now before finals

yeah i'm sure it's been difficult 

but don't beat yourself don't blame yourself so much! the team needs your support just as much as it needs players. nobody could replace that :)

thanks y/n :) i appreciate you so much

although you thought you would be happy, you can’t help but still feel weird about this whole thing. you felt like the ball was in your court but your bum arm couldn’t receive it properly. your feelings for him had been strong and you felt like you had to pack them all the way so now it just felt wrong to let them flow out again. but now that there was no conflict of interest, did you have to hide your feelings? 

it was more complicated than it was before. you didn't know how anything was going to play out at all and that kinda scared you. you did know one thing though, and that was how to be a loyal friend to suga because that's all you ever were from the start and that's what you could and would be for the future.

-

it was the friday before the finals game. 

you decided to stay late after school to maximize your focus on studying. it seemed to have worked because the sun was going down before you knew it. you wanted to get ahead on work so you could go to the game tomorrow. you and suga had been talking more recently and while it wasn’t as much as it used to be, it was more than it had been in the past several months. 

you quickly gathered up your things and left school for the night. the pretty orange and pink sky lit your way home through the quiet town and into the residential parts. at that point, the dark had met and light and-

“y/n! hey, wait!”

you turned to see none other than suga, jogging up behind you to catch up. you smiled at his sudden presence, looking past him to see the small group of the rest of the team. 

“hey! funny seeing you here.”

“yeah, haha,” he chuckled, catching his breath from suddenly running a considerable distance. “are you going home?”

“yeah.”

“can i walk with you?”

“of course.”

great! so i’m guessing you stayed late at school? you’re still wearing your uniform.”

“oh, yeah,” you affirmed, looking down at your monotonous outfit. “i just wanted to be all caught up on work and studying so i could go to the game tomorrow.”

“oh, yeah? that’s good to hear! yeah, we were-- we just had a late practice. coach left before us but we wanted to stay a little longer.”

“i hope you guys win tomorrow, it seems like you’ve been working really hard.”

“yeah, i hope so too. we’ve come a long way in such a short amount of time, it just feels like we can’t stop now.” 

you nodded in agreement. there was a beat of silence just then, and while it wasn’t awkward, it felt like something was lingering in the air.

“so, um,” he spoke up after several seconds. his eyes met yours and you felt that pang in your chest again, quickly looking away. “it’s been a while, huh?”

“yeah. yeah, it has, i guess,” you laughed lightly. you reached the intersection with the never-ending blinking stoplight and you turned around to face him.

“but i guess i’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“yeah. yeah!”

“okay, get some sleep. goodnight.”

he nodded and you grinned at him before turning around to walk the rest of the way home until his voice stopped you again.

“hey, y/n?”

“yeah, kou?”

he looked down and all around, anywhere but your face.

“i, um, i know things have been kinda weird between for a while but it’s made me realize that i missed you, a lot.”

“yeah, i missed you, too.”

“but it’s also made me realize that i enjoy spending time with you and talking to you. like, even now, just talking to you makes me feel-- i don’t know. it makes me feel at ease like i’m home. and i’d really like to spend more time with you because i, um, i really like you.”

“you, you what?”

“i really like you, sugar.”

in all the ways you had imagined this happening, you never thought that you would feel your face fall to a frown, your heart beating in your ears. something just didn’t sit right with you about it.

“i, i, i don’t know what to say...”

“it’s okay if you don’t! i just wanted to tell you.”

“but why are you telling me this now?”

“do you-- do you not feel the same?”

“no. no! i’ve been wanting to hear you say something like that for so long, it’s just. you broke up with rei not too long ago and-- i don’t know. something isn’t right about it.” you shook your head, unsure of what you were trying to say.

“it’s how i feel,” he shrugged. “i just wanted to tell you and have a good feeling to hold onto to make tomorrow a little easier.”

you looked at him in disbelief.

“oh, so you think you can confess all that to me right before this big game and that i’ll automatically reciprocate those feelings when you just broke up with someone not even a month ago? i’m not a second choice--”

“no, sugar, listen, that’s not how i meant it at all--”

“no sugawara.” those words made him go quiet instantly. you never used his full name, there was always some sort of play on it, so this was serious. 

“maybe that’s not how you meant it, but that’s how i’m taking it. i’ve been wanting to tell you for so long how i felt but i wanted to respect your feelings so i didn’t. so please, respect mine. i’m not the good luck charm that you can just confess to and expect that it’ll all be okay. this just isn’t right. i’m sorry, koshi. 

your voice broke as his name left your lips, tears beginning to fall. you didn’t even give him a chance to respond, a rush of adrenaline telling you to quickly turn and get out of there. 

-

you didn’t get much sleep that night. 

it was hard not to think about your conflicted feelings over suga’s confession. you had hoped for that moment for a long time but the timing simply wasn’t right. how funny and ironic is that? you thought your timing was off. maybe you were meant for each other in that way. you couldn’t help but let your feelings get the best of you and you were beginning to become what you feared most from him. you thought he would immediately reject you and make you feel bad about ever saying anything about how you felt. but the roles are reversed and that was the part that blindsided you the most. 

you didn’t think that how you reacted was wrong but you also couldn’t imagine how he was feeling right now. he just wanted to feel good right before a big game but that backfired right in his face. some might call it karma, but part of you thought he didn’t deserve it. 

the pressure was setting in as the game went into the fifth and final set. what made it worse was kageyama wouldn’t be starting that set, his nose bleeding from the spike he took to the face. suga was genuinely thrilled to be a teacher, a mentor, and a support system for his fellow teammates. he didn’t mind that another, rather talented, setter had joined the team because that meant he wouldn’t have to worry about passing the position over to someone who he thought didn’t deserve it. 

he almost forgot he was actually a player on the team when everyone looked to him to fill in. this was his moment and it just happened to be at the most overwhelming part of this game. Both teams were tired while simultaneously running on pure adrenaline to see who was going to come out on top. 

suga had an opportunity, not only to start the set but be the trailblazer for their success. 

the nerves set in as he held up the paddle with the number nine on it, kageyama holding it up with him for a moment. It was symbolic in a way. suga always thought he’d be passing the baton to him, his successor as karasuno’s official setter, but this felt just as sentimental. Suga hadn’t played much this season but he got to watch the team grow into something that it once was: something great. They’ve had their share of loss and strife but it finally seemed like they had come so far and the only direction they can go is up. 

the nerves set in as he looked around, anywhere to ease them. His eyes automatically went to the team banner, black with the simple word ‘fly’ written over it, where all the school and their supporters were watching. he went down the line quickly but the wave of a hand caught his eye. his eyes shifted back and felt that familiar grin on him.

it was you. 

“c’mon suga! You can do it!”

and so he did. 

once the final ball hit the ground, the room was quiet with shock. it had been tight for most of the game but no one really expected this outcome. they were going to nationals. daichi, suga, and asahi embraced, taking in the satisfying feeling of victory. 

after the awards ceremony, you were buzzing with excitement for them, trying to calmly follow the rest of the crowd out of the gym. you could tell they were somewhere along the hallway as another crowd formed to congratulate the winning team. you weaved in and out of it, even getting on your toes to see if you could spot a familiar head of gray hair. 

you finally caught a glance at him from afar, his smile growing as his eyes locked onto yours.

“y/n!”

you mimicked his expression and found your feet moving quicker than your brain could process. he put in the same amount of haste to meet you in the middle. you both stopped at about an arm’s length away from each other. his flushed cheeks and slightly red but glistening eyes held your smile as you decided to speak first. 

“hey, kou.”

“hey, sugar.”

another minute couldn’t be wasted as you finally crashed into one another. it felt better to hold somebody that you knew and genuinely loved. you could be sure that he felt the same way as he held your body tightly against him. 

heyo haikyuu night! send any requests right here..

[fannishcodex]

So I love @revasnaslan 's Where One Fell Verse, a SPOP AU. :D (Will add a link to the fic series in a comment or reblog below after remembering that tumblr sometimes has issues with embedded links, I think.)

Like, I really love it a lot, it borders on self-conscious "am I being too much, will this for some reason bother the fic writer??" And really, I’ve realized, no way, it won’t, especially since I write fic too and know I would be delighted if my fic got that reaction; but I think this may be more part of my self-consciousness and shyness. In any case, my affection for these fics is on hyperfixation level. I'm in the WOF Verse fandom. It's a thing I've been thinking about in some way since I found it late last year via @cirusthecitrus, it's one of the things that cheers me up these days. I struggle to articulate my pleasure with this fic, but I want to try to do it more.

This fic is a wonderfully character-driven story.

Fic spoilers under the cut, so recommend reading Where One Fell (fic 1) and Everything But A Door (fic 2) before this--and also, just, this fic has my deepest rec and everyone should check it out:

But, another different note first, even more self-conscious on my part: me writing about this fic more feels long overdue, but I really do struggle to sometimes articulate even my positive feelings about a thing because I want to get it across well--but I'm trying to more just spill it out now instead of trying to refine it more; and just also other things have been...a lot, there's been a lot (good and less good) that's pulled my attention in other directions too. So, long overdue, I wish I could've done more earlier, but I still just want to...gush about the fic; but I get self-conscious and worry about, like, "I don't want to end up pestering/pressuring and asking for immediate gratification for a new chapter/I don't want to guilt-trip for an update especially since I feel like I understand because I write fic too and I write slow and it's hard"...but I still want to gush about WOF verse, especially since it's like any other story I enjoy. I like gushing about the stories I enjoy.

So, again, this fic is wonderfully character-driven, which I love.

I'll bring up some canon for obvious reasons, but mostly in terms of contrast. One of the ways WOF Verse felt refreshing and drew me in was that after SPOP canon--well, in some ways SPOP canon feels like a wasted ensemble show; like many other things SPOP doesn't pull off, it doesn't pull off an ensemble show (especially when it ends up sidelining a bunch of characters that should've been prioritized more instead of a very mishandled character), and it kinda feels like it ends up having too many characters/like it starts feeling like too many characters if some are sort of just there and not really used (and I have my thoughts on who should've been prioritized, but that's another post; though granted I think my interest in this fic really indicates some of the characters I would've prioritized more).

So, I enjoyed how WOF Verse focuses on a smaller cast, giving them more attention and exploring them more. The general summary of the fic immediately drew me in, because I'm a sucker for family themes and dysfunctional families and familial love getting messy and complicated in fiction, and I hadn't realized I needed clone Hordak and his genetic template/progenitor Horde Prime shifted to them being literally brothers, plus the added twist of having Horde Prime actually care for his brother, but Prime's become thoroughly twisted in how he shows that affection and protectiveness--didn't know I needed that until I found this fic. And oh do I enjoy how this fic opened up the original '80s She-Ra/MOTU up to me more, because I just thought "wow, Hec-Tor Kur is a good made-up alt name/'real-ish' name with a last name for Hordak in this AU, and Anillis Kur just sounds cool and it just feels like it fits as an alt name/real name for Horde Prime when he's not always using that title," and I thought making them literally blood brothers was just a neat twist on them being clone and genetic template/progenitor. But nope, apparently Hec-Tor Kur and Anillis Kur are their real alt names from the original '80s canon which also heavily implies they're brothers, and that's really cool. (And I think it would've been really interesting if spop/the latest reboot had actually just explored that more, explored them more as brothers and siblings.)

Again, WOF is very character-driven, and I love that. And I enjoy how this feels like it also fits the story and world of the fic, which involves Anillis Kur/Horde Prime going into Extremely Overprotective Brother Mode and confining his sickly younger brother Hec-Tor (Hordak) to the Velvet Glove because he's that paranoid about anything happening to his brother due to a lot of family trauma that happened before Hec-Tor was even born/when he was just a baby (and baby Hec-Tor himself almost succumbing to illness and dying did not help with Anillis's issues), not to mention that controlling; so much of the fic so far is in a closed world, it adds to the hyper focus on the characters in that closed world. I appreciate how at times the fic really does have this claustrophobic feeling. I like how it sometimes makes me think of like a one-setting/limited setting play on a multi-chapter scale.

And of course, I like the specific characters getting this sort of hyper focus, and WOF makes me enjoy them even more. I love Hordak, his character, his voice, his design, etc. Horde Prime also has such a cool design and again that same cool voice, I adore Keston John's voice acting and his range in it. Canon S5 doesn't give him enough internal depth or character though, and ultimately makes him too much of just an obstacle and symbol/too much of a plot device in the show and a wasted opportunity for a more interesting character. That becomes even more apparent in contrast to WOF Verse, because Anillis Kur/Horde Prime is so much more interesting!!! Like Anillis/WOF!Prime is so much more interesting, it makes me realize how canon Prime is lacking in character/interest.

Ohman, this Prime. Prime has a great design and a great voice, and WOF has an interesting personality to match those elements in quality. There's so much fascinating contrast with him in WOF, and it makes him feel like a more unsettling villain. We've seen him care, and so it feels more frightening when he turns more aggressive and ruthless and cold. WOF's opening scene really effectively sets that contrast with him; it starts with him exhausted but having a really sweet moment with a very young Hec-Tor, and then not long after that when Hec-Tor's asleep in his arms it's a very unsettling mood whiplash with how Anillis coldly treats the clone attendant; it's even very effectively distilled and crystalized even further with the image of Anillis holding a sleeping Hec-Tor in his arms while glaring daggers at the clone attendant, that contrast of love and threat. Like, definitely a character that can do Both and I love that. And contrast adds layers to Anillis, it renders him in even more emotional dimensions, he can be multiple things at once.

And I rather love that he's far less...touchy, with everyone; it more finally struck me that he's rarely negatively touched anyone until a pivotal scene, and it being a rarity made the scene pack more of a punch, and then I looked back and realized he just doesn't do that often, there's another earlier scene that also feels shocking because it's another rare use of explicit touch, his touch is more targeted--he doesn't need to constantly do it to feel threatening at all, and is in fact much more threatening and unsettling without it. (I literally had to pause some instances because I was nervous about what Anillis would do next.) It's so fascinating to watch Anillis steadily grow worse and to watch Hec-Tor gradually have the dawning realization of what Anillis is really doing and the truth of his situation. It's interesting to see Hec-Tor gradually realizing that what he's lived with his whole life and what has felt normal isn't a good thing, it's not acceptable.

And I really do like that familial love is such a motivating factor for Anillis, and that it's something that feeds into a lot of his ruthlessness and villainy; and it feels like something I still don't see enough in fiction. And it just feels more believable, more consistent. Anillis acts horribly, is abusive, but it still feels like what he does is out of love for his brother and he really is blind to what he's actually doing to his brother, that it's the opposite of what he wants, it's not protecting him like he believes. I like that level of character believability/consistency, and part of that also involves how it's overall framed, and it's still framed as pretty terrifying; Anillis cares about his brother, but his methods are twisted.

And my gut feeling does...well, feel connections between canon and this AU--and that may be obvious as source material and fic based on it, but I mean--it's as if canon were the very rough first sketch/draft, and WOF is the fully realized version of the character, plus the change of shifting his brotherly status into a brother that actually does care but goes about it in a horribly twisted way. WOF takes parts and pieces and little details from canon and fleshes them out into something more fully dimensional and more interesting. Like the trace of canon Prime's collection with plants/other things and even arguably the imagery at the end with his ship the Velvet Glove becoming a tree feel connected to a more fleshed out version in WOF where Anillis keeps a garden. And there's so much meaning that can be pulled from his garden--it's another reflection of his controlling behavior with the way he controls/manages the garden; on the flip side, it feels like it further reflects the contrast/dichotomy in his character, as gardens can still have positive connotations too--it can reflect the potential Anillis had (may still have?) for genuine good/for genuinely nurturing care. And it also does more explicitly point to Anillis's affection for family since his late father had kept a garden too and Anillis's own garden on the Velvet Glove still has his father's plants. There's so much done with Anillis's garden.

And with his backstory and the contrast in his character, just his...everything, I also want to know more about Anillis, I'm curious for even more of his backstory, even going more into "why are you like this?" Like this is a genuinely fascinating, charismatic, threatening, multi-faceted antagonist right here.  

And I can go on about Anillis, but I love Hec-Tor/Hordak in this too. I love Hordak, and I enjoy how this still feels so much like Hordak, but with a different life; I feel like there are commonalities that remain from canon within him combined with differences based on the AU he's in and the different experiences he's lived with. Like, there's such an interesting detail with Hec-Tor's growing anger issues that remind me of Hordak--it's there, but different because of their different lives, Hec-Tor's developing because of his isolation but still quieter, simmering, because his brother only has his best interests at heart, he shouldn't act like this... And then it’s so nice to see Hec-Tor be even more talkative about SCIENCE because he does have more space to be a bit more open about his passions in this AU/different life situation. And it's all like another AU I didn't realize I wanted until I saw it--I really dig seeing Hordak/Hec-Tor as a baby, as a little kid, getting to have a childhood and get to have more typical developmental stages and to have more familial experiences, albeit twisted ones. And I love how the story has shifted to Hec-Tor more, love his POV and following him on his journey.

And the clones! The clones are great in WOF and give me feels too. I love how more of them are focused on as individuals, and that we get to see more of their characters and glimpse their differing views. And when Etherian characters join in, they're as well written and interesting too (the Entrapdak is so good). I just like WOF's cast, and the line-up plucked from canon and how they adjust to the AU; this ensemble just feels better, and it's utilized and treated better than canon.

And the worldbuilding with Anillis & Hec-Tor’s race and the clones and their world is so good and seamlessly interwoven with story and character, enhancing the whole thing even more and making things even more interesting.

I just...really love these characters and this story. They have a lot of heart and intrigue.

(Disclaimer: I definitely ended up having trouble figuring out tags for this. Especially since I think only the first five tags actually show up at first? And I think last I checked tumblr freaks out over dashes within a tag so while “hec-tor kur” probably fits better, I don’t think tumblr can handle that for some reason so just going with “hordak,” which also really still just fits.)

[rataltouille]

HOUSE PLANTS, UPDATE 1

this has been long overdue. typical, really. [novel intro found here.]

the story is currently eight chapters in but it's also a very strange eight chapters. i’m not really happy with half of these words because they're unnecessary ™ and dull ™ and serve no purpose whatsoever ™. i’m simply choosing to ignore that i need to cut them out. :’] here’s a note i made that perfectly captures my feelings so far:

before we go into the excerpts, i want to talk a bit about how house plants is structured because the format is whack. each chapter ranges from 3000-4000 words. A few vignettes, around 500 words, are sprinkled between these chapters. the chapters narrate events from the fictive past, while the vignettes are snippets into the fictive present [the point from where lilith is retelling the story]. additionally, an important plot thread is told entirely in the form of an epistolary [through letters] and so there's a bit more of confusion to navigate through. fun times.

and now for the excerpts. they're from the first three chapters and are very weird out of context. i think that each update will feature excerpts from three consequent chapters, but that may change as we get closer to spoiler land.

excerpts:

chapter one

the novel kicks off with an odd vignette featuring an unhinged willow and an innocent lilith. chronologically, this is set way back, the earliest scene ever, around when lilith was ten or eleven. it’s meant to establish a sense of unease and to thread the unsettling undertone i’m going for. it's also major foreshadowing but we don't talk about that here. i’m not giving away much because there's not many excerpts to scrape out from a dialogue-heavy vignette like this.

”Here, let me help, mother.”

I tried guiding your palms to the rim of the pot, but you moved them away. From the brief touch, my fingers came away with moisture. On second glance, your knuckles were bathed in sweat. Your veins pulsed and your hands shivered. You gave me a wide-eyed glance, dumped the plant atop the brown, and stood up. You wiped the dirt away on your jeans. From below, with sunlight teetering over your golden hair, you were a personification of God. But were you, really? Does God fear their children? Does God volunteer to garden? I didn't know what God truly meant. I don't now either. But I’m certain it wasn't you.

”Sorry, Lilith. My pollen allergy is acting up.”

It's stunning how it ran in our blood, lying effortlessly.

chapter two

immediately after this we’re pulled off into the linear non-vignette chapter thing, aka the second chapter. [god what am i doing with this structure]. it starts with a soft little reminiscent bit about juniper?? i’m exploiting the tense a lot but it's been fun. (:

The first time she smiled at me is knit into me, like I’m not myself without it. I’m not. She breathed change and I ran with it. Whenever she gazed at me, with sunset dripping behind her head, or with rain clouds dotting her hairline, she’d smile. It was the sound of a ukulele in a winter draft, the kiss of dew on my favourite hemlock, the fond mythical curl of my father’s arms around me. There’s a phantom of love everywhere, and I almost caught it sneaking around her. Even now, Juniper dozes so soundly; she’s replaced everything I wanted you to be and everything you never were. You’d know, of course. You always have.

willow is officially introduced soon after, and so is one of the major plot threads, i.e. lilith’s correspondence with her dad. this excerpt is to show how the family feel about each other became, like i mentioned, there’s a lot of tea to be split here. not gonna lie, this paragraph reads as kinds pure.

You— the town called you Wistful Willow, but they did so behind your back and on postcards to neighbours— had a special lilt in your tone every time you spoke his name. ”Isac,” your lips would curl, almost a smile, and I’d smile back. You loved it, the sound of his name. It had become a ritual for us, pouring our sorrow and joy and unrest and comfort into those two syllables. A fallback plan, I suppose; there was always father to rely on amidst chaos.

willow is constantly at home and she’s probably not seen the outside world in a million years. she either cooks, reads, sits in a bathtub, or does everything at the same time. not odd at all.

The bathroom door, thick oak painted ivory, was right across where I stood. The house was large and empty, and I had three places— study, bedroom, garden— to myself. I lived only with you, so it was mostly quiet, except on Saturdays when we got father’s mail and watched TV together. That Saturday we had seen an old movie from the 70s, a random romance that neither of us cared for, but watched out of duty.

The door was shut. From it came the sound of pages rustling, not unlike a delicate breeze playing with the fronds of croton plants. I knocked softly.

”Come in, ” you said, a splash of water punctuating your voice.

I entered to find you half-immersed in the bathtub, one hand holding a novel, the other limp across the rim. There lingered the scent of soapy water, rose-tinted, and all over the tiled walls was the water’s reflection, a glow of opulence. You were half-naked, your garments drifting like algae. Your habit of reading in the bathtub had been increasing lately. You looked at me, questioning.

there’s also the introduction of lilith’s best friends marcy and faun, where they lay down in the middle of a field after a tiring cricket match and banter all through the evening. i’m really enjoying the trio’s friendship; it's both fun to write and they’re just so pure.

”If you insult Henry one more time, Marce...”

”He actually named the butterfly.” Her eyes were wide and amused; she dug up mud with her nails and flicked it upwards, glanced at me. ”Lilith. He named his fucking butterfly.”

”Faun, it's dead. You keep it in a box, ” I said.

”The dead don't magically lose their names, ” he countered.

Our laughter drafted into town. I don't think it heard.

chapter three

this is kind of uneventful but it sets up some major subplots. i might push it to later in the book, but i’m happy with where it it's right now. lilith randomly keeps reminiscing throughout so that’s convenient. this excerpt is about willow and thus is unreliable as hell. willow ain't good and lilith ain't 100% sincere narrating this right now, so don't let its pureness fool you.

People in town, I’d hear, found you odd and unsociable, cold and distant. I always scoffed when they told me so. They only knew the Willow who never attended community gatherings, who’d gaze out absentmindedly from the porch, who’d more so see than observe, hear than listen. They didn't know the Willow who was my mother, who hated loud noises, who loved her novels with a passion, who spoke so serenely— and rarely— that you hung onto her every word. Only I saw this side of you, and that suited me just fine.

there’s a scene where lilith [accidentally] spies on marcy and another guy. their conversation makes lilith tangent off in her head.

Marcy spoke detachedly, like she was speaking through a filter of not caring. I worried for her and her charade. It didn't help that scented letters confessing love often found their way to her locker, or that roses were shoved in her face as if her admirers loved her so much that they forgot she was allergic to them. Idolisation and adoration took extreme forms; she was stalked for a month and sent death threats. She would put on a disguise of indifference and seem unbothered, but at night she’d soak her pillow and lose sleep, then inform us the next day about her insomnia so casually that we almost forgot how easily she hurt.

i’m not going to lie, the last line in this excerpt was just me indulging myself with the knowledge of the climax. i need to stop slipping in random tone changes like this lol.

My walk home finished quick, though my feet expressed exhaustion. I was right on time, too; you were sitting by your coffee table, glasses crooked upon your nose, a new novel— this one a bright red sky, gold print, gauzy— resting beside warm coffee. You barely smiled, but that was because you were daydreaming. I was familiar with every tell: your eyes would tilt towards my forehead, your lips would stretch, your fingers would drum on whatever you were holding. I’d always let you be when you drowned into your head. Did you ever notice that, Mother? Have you ventured out of your mind to witness my efforts?

and finally some food for thought. yes, that pun was intended. i’ll see myself out.

”Dinner’s ready, dear,” you called. I groaned out my fatigue and left my room, hoping to abandon my unflattering thoughts. In the kitchen, I helped you set the table. Soon we were both sipping hot carrot soup with a side of breadsticks. You were already invested in the novel. I held the spoon, the heat barely registering, and watched you drift through fiction and reality like a will o’ the wisp. Maybe I could read for escapism, too. It would do me good.

that’s all for today! thanks for reading so far; support is, as always, appreciated. hope you liked these excerpts ✨

[imaginationintowords]

Falling

Harry Styles x Famous!Reader angst

[Plot: inspired/loosely based on Harry’s song Falling. Harry and his famous ex sit down to talk, for the first time since their breakup years prior.]

[hope you guys like this. Started drafting this last month after I first heard Falling. Let me know what you think!]

To support my ko-fi

When Y/n was approached to do this interview she had agreed to do so, with an open mind. She was finally in a place where she could talk about what had happened without breaking down or feeling any kind of negative reaction. She had finally healed, properly in private over the past few years. She had finally moved on, found someone who treats her as their equal. But something stilled seemed off, it wasn't until her therapist brought up the idea of finally getting closure. Closure. She would finally be able to ask the questions she had let go, the insecurities that sometimes still loomed over her current relationship. So she agreed to do this artist on artist interview when approached by Variety.

Yes it was a way to promote the new movie that she is not only staring in, but co-wrote with one of her best friends. A movie inspired by heartbreak. She didn't do it for the promo though, the movie was already generating Oscar buzz. She is doing it for herself, to finally close this chapter once and for all. Once it was closed for good, everyone would stop hounding her about what had happened, and if there was any hope for reconciliation, even though she herself has been in a committed two year relationship. She needed to do this to show the world that she is more than just this person's ex.

She was more surprised to hear that he had agreed to do it. There was no one more private than Harry Styles.

This would be the first time they have seen and talked to each other since their breakup in December of 2015. The producers had asked if she wanted to meet him before they started shooting, she declined. If she was going to do this she was going to do this all the way.

The producers decided on having Harry waiting on set in front of the cameras, then Y/n would walk in and greet him. They wanted to keep it as natural as they possibly can in a room filled with cameras and people. The setup was perfect for an intimate one on one. No one off camera was going to be allowed to give any input. It was all on Harry and Y/n to keep the conversation going. Last minute they decided to only have a limited of people in the room, to respect the two artists who were about to bare it all out. So in the end it would be two camera guys, the director, one producer, Harry and Y/n's manager, Harry's mum Anne, who had decided to come last minute, and the two main acts.

"You ready?" Cat, Y/n's manager, asked her as the sound guy finished putting her mic on.

"Yeah. I am." Y/n nodded, looking at herself one final time, before they began the short walk to set.

When Y/n walked in she was greeted by the director and producer, politely shaking their hands. She immediately felt his eyes on her from where he sat in front of the cameras, patiently waiting for her. For once in her life she actually wasn't nervous, she had been nervous the last couple of weeks leading up to this, but right now as she listens to the director explaining what's going to happen, she feels a sense of relief, to finally get the closure she deserves.

Harry on the other hand was a bundle of nerves, he hasn't been able to sleep properly since he agreed to do this. He had only agreed because he wasn't expecting Y/n to agree to do it. She had kept his name out of her mouth in the media since the day they broke up. He had a feeling she and her team also had him blacklisted, any media outlet forbidden to ask Y/n questions about him and their failed relationship.

When he had heard she agreed to do it, he could have sworn his heart stopped for a second. He was actually going to have to do this. That scared the shit out of him. He would have to be vulnerable in front of not just the world, but the girl that he had broken. The girl that still to this day occupied his mind from time to time. The girl that he couldn’t help but compare all the other girls after to. The girl that he still wrote songs about to this day. The girl that just by being in the same room as her had him falling in love all over again. 

The second he saw her enter the room, his heart stopped, his breath got caught in his throat. Everything just stood still. She had always had that affect on him. Making him fall just by the sight of her. He was finally able to see her beauty again in person, photos online didn't do her any justice. She was what the media called, "the girl next door" beautiful, everyone adored her, everyone wanted a chance to be with her, and yet she was oblivious to it all. Never truly believing she was as beautiful as everyone made it seem, and in some way that was probably his fault, for not making her believe she was truly that beautiful.

It took everything in his power not to go over to her and embrace her. He had to will himself to stay in his seat, until she approached him.

She finally made her way over to him, well more to her seat across from him.

Harry had started to get up, until he realized he wouldn't be getting the same greeting that everyone else got, so he sat back down, slightly embarrassed.

"Hi." She softly greeted him, as she sat in her seat.

"Hi." Now that she was in front of him, he had no idea what to say or how to begin all of this.

"Nervous?" She asked him.

She always did know him so well.

"Very. You?" He lightly laughed, making eye contact with her for the first time in years. Just like that he can’t help himself but to fall for her 

"A little. More curious than anything." She honestly answered, willing herself to forget about the cameras around.

"Really? Why so?" Harry asked, taken back by her answer.

"There's a lot of unanswered questions between us and I think we owe it to each other to find those out. So I'm curious to see what your take was on everything."

"Right." He started to get more nervous.

This was going to be a very emotional hour, for the both of them.

There was a beat of silence, then Y/n took a deep breath and began.

"How about we start easy then. How have you been? And don't give me that politically correct Harry Styles bullshit. Truthfully how have you been?" She asks, which causes Harry to let out a snort laugh.

"I've actually been good. Finishing up this new album. Working my ass on it. But I'm very proud of it. Really let my guard down this time."

"Difficult isn't it? Having to let your guard down, afraid of what everyone is going to make of it. But I guess that's why we do it, huh." She states.

"Exactly. I mean an album is nothing compared to writing a whole feature film. Talk about being vulnerable. I can't imagine doing that." Harry praises her. He remembers when she had told him years ago, during the first year of their relationship, that she and her best friend were writing a movie together.

"Yeah. That wasn't easy. We went through many, many drafts. Originally we wanted to write a romantic comedy. It wasn't until-" She stops herself, forgetting for a second who she was talking to.

"Until?" he presses her to continue, having a feeling of what her answer was going to be.

"It wasn't until we broke up that we decided a romantic comedy wasn't what we needed to write. I couldn't write one, not after that." She honestly answered.

"Why is that?"

"Because after our break up, the only thing I could write about was heartbreak. And not that cheesy sugarcoated shit, the real honest truth heartbreak. It just started to flow out of me, as soon as I started to type, that's what came out. So that's when we decided to change the idea of the movie. If we were going to put out a movie about breakups, it was going to be about great big breakups. Not just the bad ones. Not just the good ones, if those even exist. The ones that change a person. The ones that shake you to your core. The ones that don't seem possible to recover from. The ones that have you questioning, how can you ever fall out of love with someone you had planned to spend the rest of your life with. Those kinds of breakups. The everlasting ones." Y/n felt her eyes began to tear up as she described her inspiration. She took a breath to calm her nerves.

"Wow." Harry responded, feeling himself get choked up.

"I'm sorry." he apologized.

"For what?" Y/n asked, taken back by his apology. His long overdue apology.

"For the way our relationship ended. I'm sorry." He tearfully apologized.

"Our relationship was long over before we ended it. We should've ended our relationship before it got bad, but I think we were both holding onto something we both thought we could salvage. But we were just too far gone. We were just too young. I loved you, I was scared."

"Selfishly I didn't want to let you go, because I couldn't bare the thought of you loving someone else. Selfishly, I still can't bare the thought of you loving someone else." He truthfully tells her.

"That's unfair of you."

"Do you hate me?" Harry asked, the one question he's been dying to ask. If he didn't ask it now, he wouldn't have the guts to ask it later on. Better to just rip the band-aid off.

"Hate is such a powerful word. Small, but powerful. But I did. Not anymore. But yeah, I hated you. I think you know, slash, knew that. I wanted nothing to do with you. The way we ended, it shattered me. Then to see the pictures of you with another girl less than a month later. I wanted nothing but to hate you."

The answer knocked the wind out of him a little, he always assumed she hated him, but the confirmation just broke him.

"In the past almost four years, I've learned a lot about myself. Who I am without you. Who I was with you. Looking back on it, I didn't like who I was with you. I loved you so much, that I would do whatever you asked of me. Looking back, I don't even know who that girl was. I can't even fathom that i was like that. I was more mad that I had let myself become like that. I had always prided myself in being an independent woman, especially back then. But that definitely wasn't the case. I had lost myself to you.

Looking back on it now, it wasn't real. Who we were in public versus who we were behind closed doors.  We would be all happy out in the world but the second we got home, and those doors closed behind us, we just shut each other out. You shut me out. You were seeking comfort from other. When I should have been the one you ran to. You had written songs about being able to run to me for anything, but that wasn't the truth. It became pretty clear that we weren't happy anymore. That you weren't happy anymore in the relationship."

"I was." Harry retorted, feeling upset that that's how she felt.

"No you weren't. If you were, you wouldn't have done what you did. You wouldn't have said what you said. I wouldn't have left in such a haste that final night. You weren't happy. Neither was I. And it's okay to admit that." She calmly said.

Her calm demeanor was starting to make him a bit uncomfortable. He definitely wasn't expecting her to be so calm about this all. Especially since the last time they talked was a screaming match. But then looking back on it now, it was just a one person screaming match, and that ball laid on his court.

"You don't talk about me." He states, trying to regain his composure.

"No, I don't. I couldn't because it was too hard. Especially at the beginning. So I just had any talk of you blacklisted. It was better that way. It isn't the world's business to know what happened. At least not then." she softly laughs signaling to the cameras.

"It's what I needed to heal. Now if someone mentions you, I don't feel the same as I once did. It doesn't break me. Truthfully, until someone mentions you, I kind of forget."

"Sorry." she apologizes, when she sees his reaction to her answer.

"Have you listened to any of my solo stuff?"

"No. I couldn't. And as time went by I didn't feel the need to. I think it's better that way."

"Didn't you ever get curious?"

"No. My friends told me about it. Even said you slipped my name in one of the songs. Which I think, at the time, just added more fuel to the fire."

"Really?"

"Not everyone is going to find that endearing, Harry. Especially not with the way we ended. I didn't want to hear you playing the victim." She explains to him, a little offended by his reaction.

"I wasn't." He defended himself.

"Right. We were both at fault, but last time I checked you were the one moving on after a few short weeks. At that moment, when I heard you name dropping me, and then to see the comments online, it made me so mad. And it was a set back to my own healing. Here you are telling the world how heartbroken you are, but then you are just out in the open with a new girl, no worries on how that would make me feel." she emotionally tells him, with tears in her eyes.

"Which took me some time to realize that you didn't owe me anything. We were no longer together. You were free to do whatever you pleased, with whoever you pleased. I had to accept that I had no right in the decisions that you made post-us." she calms down.

"We were never meant to last forever. I see that now." she expresses what she had learned years ago, the revelation that finally allowed her to move on.

“You’re going to need to stop doing that.” she tells him, he could feel the pity.

“Stop what?”

“Writing songs about me. You need to let me go.” she informs him.

"Do you ever regret our relationship?" he bluntly inquires.

"No. It taught me some valuable things about myself, and about relationships. Do you?" she asks back.

"Never." He says.

There was a moment of silence. No one sure if the conversation is over, as it had already been an hour since they began. The director was about to call cut, when Harry spoke up.

"I'm scared that you'll never need me again." he truthfully says, tears brimming his eyes.

"That shouldn't scare you. You should want nothing but the best for me, like I wish nothing but the best for you." she explains, her eyes matching the same emotion as him, feeling the end of the conversation close by.

"Are you happy?"

"Truthfully? Yes."

"Do you see us ever getting back together?" his bottom lip trembles a bit.

"No." She truthfully answers, a few tears escaping.

"Does he make you happy?"

"Yes." she smiles, at the mention of her current partner.

"Is he the one?" he asks as the tears fall down his cheeks, afraid of the answer that's about to come out of her mouth.

"Yes. He's the one." she bites down on her bottom lip to keep herself from crying out.

"I still love you." he confesses, crying.

"I know." she bittersweetly discloses.

She gives him one final smile, before she gets up and gives his hand a comforting pat, as she makes her final exit out of his life for good.

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